#Cross Over AU Series | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

minisugakoobies · 9 months ago

Text

Cross My Heart | KMG

Pairing: Mingyu x GNReader (afab)

Genre: smut, porn with the barest of plot, friends to lovers (?), non-idol!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: pussy drunk mingyu, late night texting, biting/marking, fingering, lots of flirting, lots of teasing, grinding/dry humping, dirty talk, cunnilingus, face sitting, come eating, hand job, mingyu's a messy boy, OC is needy and mingyu loves it, mingyu has maybe the tiniest bit of a praise kink, use of pet names - pretty, mingyu requests death by pussy

Word Count: 5.2k

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own SVT - they just inspire me

Summary: Your crush Mingyu wants (to eat) you.

Text Prompt: You: I can’t stand you Mingyu: Then sit on my face

A/N: Hiiiii I'm writing for svt now and I'm starting with Mingyu because he's driving me insane. This is actually the first in a planned series of 13 svt fics based on text prompts. I'm fully in my self-indulgent era, so this is for everyone who, like me, needs some munch 'Gyu right about now 👅

Unbeta'd as usual. If you like this and want more svt fics from me, please let me know! I'd love to hear what you think (but please be kind I'm fragile 🥺) 💕

SVT Masterlist 💜 Main Masterlist

It’s finally here. After months of planning, you and your friends have flown halfway around the world for a week of vacation. The six of you arrived just a few hours ago, and after the long flight, the long wait at the airport for your luggage, and the long drive to the hotel, you’re exhausted.

Well, mentally you’re worn out, at least. Your body? Is still on your old timezone, where it’s currently tomorrow morning. So it thinks that you need to be awake, even though it’s night where you are. You had stayed awake the entire flight here in order to avoid this very problem.

Fucking jet lag got you anyway.

Unlike you, Seungcheol and Vernon are having no issue sleeping. The three of you are sharing one room, while Minghao, Wonwoo, and Mingyu are sharing another. You glance over at the two lumps tucked in their beds, snoring away like you would be if your body wasn’t so confused.

Because you’re trying to be a good friend and let them sleep, you’re lying on your bed, scrolling lazily through your various social media apps. You could watch something, but you don’t really have the focus right now. Yet you want something pleasing to look at. Something to mindlessly enjoy while you wait for exhaustion to overwhelm you.

So, naturally, you turn to your favorite nightly pastime - scrolling through your social media apps, looking for any new posts from Mingyu.

It’s an addiction, borne out of your raging crush on your friend. Well, really, he’s Minghao’s friend, you don’t know him as well as you do the others, but still. You’re friendly enough around each other. Which is because Mingyu is so nice, such a sweet and funny guy who always makes you feel more than welcome whenever he’s around.

He’s also a blatant flirt. At first, his cocky smiles and playful words made you think he might be interested in more than just being your friend, but it wasn’t long before you realized he’s like that with everyone. So you tamped down the hope that burned in your chest, leaving only a simmering crush to smolder forever.

It’s morning back home, where most of your friends have barely started their days, so your feed is fairly dead. There are a few photos from Wonwoo from the flight, including one of Minghao sleeping with his mouth open that you immediately save to your favorites, a couple from Vernon, and, of course, several from Mingyu. You tap into his page.

Mingyu’s an avid photographer, particularly of beautiful things - breathtaking landscapes, delicious meals, himself. Mostly himself, to be honest. Not that you’re complaining. It’s maybe the most mutually beneficial relationship you’ve ever been in. Mingyu loves to provide pictures of himself. You love to admire them. A win-win all around.

You tap back to home and refresh your feed. A new post appears, from Mingyu. The jet lag must be getting to him, too, if he’s awake and posting right now. The photo is another selfie, this time of him lying in bed, one arm resting behind his head, showing off a perfectly sculpted bicep. God. Could he be more gorgeous?

Clicking into his page again, you rub your thumb over the screen to make his photos flip by in an endless parade of hot Mingyus. It’s ridiculous, you muse, watching picture after picture roll by, to think about how much time Mingyu must spend on these photos. Making sure he’s got the perfect lighting to bounce off his muscles just right in those gym selfies. Or figuring out the best angle to show off that sharp jawline of his. Just ridiculous. And yet, every second isn’t spent in vain, considering how the photos drew you in like shiny trinkets to your magpie eye.

It would be so easy to think of Mingyu as a modern day Narcissus, endlessly snapping selfies, drowning in his own reflection on his phone. But he’s never struck you as conceited. It’s something else - a desire for connection, perhaps. A need for-

A tiny heart floats up your screen and you gasp. Shit. You just liked the post the scroll stopped on - one of his many gym selfies, frame zoomed in on his torso, his hand clutching the bottom of his shirt to show off his rippling abs.

Your eye drifts to the date of the photo. Posted eight months ago.

Quick as lightning, you hit the screen again, shattering the little heart icon. Your pulse is beating too fast. There’s no need to panic. He couldn’t have seen that. Maybe you’re overreacting, but no one needs to know you’re lurking in his profile in the middle of the night, especially not him.

A notification drops down over Mingyu’s face. A message.

Mingyu: Someone’s up late.

Ah, damn. You were too slow. And now he’s in your DMs.

After taking a moment to shriek quietly into your pillow, you write back.

You: Can’t sleep

Mingyu: Same. Jet lag’s got me fucked up

Mingyu: You know what always helps when I can’t sleep?

You: What?

Mingyu: Creeping through someone’s old photos

Even though he’s not here looking at you, your neck flames with embarrassment anyway. You could play it cool. If only you knew how to do that.

You: Shut up

Mingyu: It’s ok, I’m flattered

You: Oh fuck off

Mingyu: No really, I am

Mingyu: I like that you want me so bad

Pressing your mouth firmly into your pillow, you swallow another screech. Here we go. Right into the flirting. You can’t handle this right now.

You: Idk what you’re talking about

You: It was an accident

Mingyu: Oh you were accidentally admiring me?

You: How did you even notice? Are you just staring at your phone, waiting for attention?

Mingyu: I mean yeah

You snort.

You: You’re ridiculous

Mingyu: Maybe. But I’m honest about it

You: I’ll give you that

A few seconds go by, then a minute, then two. Maybe you’re boring him. Maybe he’s found something else to entertain him. Or someone else.

When the next notification comes in, you jolt a little.

Mingyu: What else will you give me?

And now your heart does a funny jump as you stare at his words. God, what a question. How you wish he were asking for real, and not just being playful, like he always is.

Would it be too real to reply with the truth? “Whatever you want?”

You: I don’t know

You: What do you want?

Mingyu: What if I say you?

Suddenly you don’t understand words.

You: Why would you say that?

Mingyu: Because it’s my answer

Mingyu: I’m being honest again

You: That’s the jet lag talking

Mingyu: Oh come on

Mingyu: You really don’t know?

You: Know what??

Mingyu: How I feel about you

Is he being serious right now??

You: If this is a joke I don’t get it

Mingyu: Not a joke

Mingyu: Hold on

The notification icon on your app suddenly lights up. One heart. Two. Three four five. You open your notifications and immediately start laughing. Mingyu’s going through your oldest photos and liking them, one by one.

Mingyu: See? I’m obsessed with you

Seungcheol grunts in his sleep, and you press your arm harder over your mouth, trying to muffle yourself better.

You: You’re so annoying, oh my god

Mingyu: So annoying that you can’t stop looking at my photos at 1 am?

Mingyu: Or flirting with me?

You: Is that what’s happening? Are we flirting?

Mingyu: Ok don’t act like you don’t know

Mingyu: I flirt with you all the time

You: You flirt with EVERYONE all the time

Mingyu: Yeah but I only mean it with you

Like any other time this happens, any time his words make your head spin, you put on the brakes, stopping before you start to believe you might have a chance.

You: You’re so dumb

Mingyu: Are you really going to pretend you’re not enjoying this?

You: Who said I’m pretending?

Mingyu: Me. I know you’re loving this

Mingyu: Because you want me soooooo bad

You: Shut uppppp

Mingyu: Go on, yell at me

Mingyu: You’re cute when you’re mad

You: No really

You: I can’t stand you

Mingyu: Then sit on my face

Your mouth falls open, an amused huff of air escaping in a befuddled laugh at his unexpected response.

You: What?

Mingyu: Come shut me up. Sit on my face.

You’re blinking so hard, you can hear your eyelids clapping together.

You: Fuck off. Stop playing.

Mingyu: Who’s playing? I’m serious

Mingyu: Smother me with those gorgeous thighs of yours. I’ll go out a happy man.

Your gorgeous thighs? He’s never said anything like that before. What the fuck is happening.

You can’t help but picture it - him lying on his bed, you kneeling over him, fingers tangled in his dark hair as you ride that pouty little mouth of his. It’s not the first time you’ve fantasized about it, but it’s the first time the vision has felt… possible.

Mingyu: No response? You’re just gonna leave me hanging like this?

You: Don’t tease me

Mingyu: Trust me, there are a million ways I’d love to tease you, but this isn’t one

You lay down again, rolling onto your side, curling in on yourself, like you’re trying to contain all the excitement rushing through your veins, keep it from spilling out and over into the room where your friends are still sleeping.

You: You’re really serious?

Mingyu: Cross my heart and hope to die

Mingyu: Between your legs

Again you laugh.

You: You’re such an idiot

Mingyu: Does that mean you’re not coming over?

You: Like right now??

Mingyu: Why not?

Mingyu: Wonwoo and Minghao both slept on the plane. They went out exploring

Mingyu: I’ve got the room to myself

You bite your lip, a little harder than you normally would, the sharp sting confirming that you are not dreaming and this is, in actual fact, happening right now.

You: I guess if I’m not sleeping anytime soon

In the dim light from your phone, you eye the path to the door. You can easily make it out of the room without waking anyone. Should you so decide.

You: I could come over

Mingyu: I promise I’ll make it so good for you

Mingyu: Eat that pussy like you deserve. Make you cum on my tongue over and over

You inhale sharply. He’s definitely never talked about your pussy like that before. Reading his words has you positively throbbing.

Mingyu: Please, just let me taste you

What else is there to say to that but -

You: I’m coming over

It’s a short walk to Mingyu’s room. A rush of anticipation hits you as you raise your hand to knock. It doesn’t take long for the door to open, bringing you face to face with the man whose social media you can’t stop stalking. Mingyu’s shirtless, grey sweatpants hanging alarmingly low on his hips, and if you weren’t already planning on crushing him with your thighs, this insta thirst trap of an outfit would push you right over the edge.

“That was fast,” he laughs, stepping aside to let you in. “Did you run down the hall?”

“I thought I told you to shut up,” you shoot back.

“And I thought I told you to make me,” he smirks, reaching for you at the same time you reach for him, practically mashing his teeth against your lips as he pulls you in for a kiss. Despite what he just said, he’s kissing you, too eager to wait for you to do what he demands.

It’s rough and messy, all teeth and tongue, both of you doing your fair share to keep the other silent. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say speechless, because Mingyu’s definitely not being quiet, moaning into your mouth, and you’re certainly whining loud enough for the other rooms to hear you.

He presses you back into the door, chest to chest, hip to hip. You tilt your head and he follows, chasing your mouth, as if he’s needing another taste. Your hands roam over his biceps, his shoulders, his neck, covering every inch of warm skin that’s exposed, and he slips his arms around your waist, holding you impossibly tight. Not for one second do your lips part. This is the type of kiss you’ve always read about in your favorite stories - the one that makes your knees weak, makes your head float, makes you forget everything but Mingyu.

It’s delicious. It’s amazing. It’s every superlative you can think of. But it’s not enough. You want more. Part of you wants to tell him to get on with it, take you to bed, because you’re here to make him eat his words by eating you, but the other part isn’t about to quit kissing him any time soon.

Thankfully, Mingyu takes care of your dilemma by eliminating the choice. Without warning, he bends his knees and lifts you, big hands secure on your thighs to hold you close to him. Okay, now it’s like one of your stories, the way he lifts you like you’re lighter than air. You’d swoon if you weren’t so busy licking into his lips. All that time in the gym is really paying off

He carries you to his bed, displaying his impressive thigh strength by slowly lowering himself into a sitting position, bringing you into his lap. You loop your arms around his shoulders, desperately seeking his mouth, as if the 0.2 seconds between kisses might kill you, which, honestly, it feels like it might, and you’ve never been in this situation before, making out with the man of your dreams, so for all you know, it will, so why risk it?

“Stop me if I’m going too fast,” he says between kisses.

“You can go as fast as you want,” you reply, without even a second’s pause. “Just don’t stop.”

“Damn, and here I was worried I was coming off too excited,” he grins, face lighting up in delight. Then he kisses your cheek, whispering against your skin at your offended huff. “It’s okay, I like how needy you are for me.”

“Shut up,” you groan, but you know he felt the way you shuddered, so you give up the weak protests and start kissing him again, twisting your fingers in his hair to keep him close.

Mingyu finally stops laughing when you take his bottom lip between your own, sucking and licking at the plump skin. With a groan, he digs his fingers into your sides, and he starts to guide you back and forth, rolling you over the eye-catching bulge in his sweatpants. It’s a sight that makes you clench, thinking about how much you want to sit on it now, just pull him out and ride, too needy to feel him inside you to even take your clothes off.

But again, you want more. You want what he’d promised earlier.

He nips his way down your throat until his mouth latches at the base of your neck, sucking and biting, and you whimper, squirming in his hold. “

‘Gyu, please!”

“Please what?”

He doesn’t lift his head, too absorbed in sinking his vampire-like canines into your soft skin, not sharp enough to pierce, just hard enough that you know you’ll have bruises blooming there tomorrow, little souvenirs of this moment.

Please everything, you think. You want it all, whatever he’s willing to give, you’ll take. You’re feeling greedy as fuck right now.

“I want what you promised me.”

“Hold on,” he intones seriously, right before laving his tongue over a fresh mark. “Let a man at death’s door enjoy his last moments.”

“Oh my god, you’re so stupid,” you groan, grabbing his face and smashing your lips together. He’s just - just such an idiot, such a stupid sexy idiot and you want him more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your life.

“Fine,” he says after a few minutes of frantic making out, a cheeky grin spreading across his face, hands circling around your ass, squeezing as he pulls you closer. “Time for my last meal.”

He kisses away your embarrassingly pleased moan, and then he maneuvers the two of you around so he’s lying on the bed on his back and you’re straddling him. As he watches with rapt attention, you peel off your shirt. Since you’d been dressed for bed, you hadn’t bothered to throw on a bra. Judging from Mingyu’s expression, you made the right call.

“Pretty,” he breathes out, wide eyes finding yours, and you have to take a beat, have to take a moment to sit and let the reality of the situation wash over you. The two of you are here, together, in this hotel room half a world away from home. Both wanting this. It’s clear to you now just how eager Mingyu’s been since you walked in. He wasn’t lying - he wants you just as much as you want him.

With this new understanding, you stand up to slide your shorts and panties off in one go, before straddling him again, and lowering yourself for another kiss. Immediately, his arms are around you, gliding down your back, all the way to your bare ass, taking the biggest handfuls he can.

“You drive me insane. So pretty, so hot.”

Mingyu’s words kick the simmering heat in your gut into a full blown fire. You moan into his kiss, grinding yourself against him. One of his hands grips your side, helping you chase the friction, while the other slips between your bodies. When his fingers brush your inner thigh, he lets out a strangled groan. “Oh fuck, you’re so wet.”

“Your fault,” you gasp, lips fervently pressing against his, licking at the seam of his mouth until he allows you in, so you can roll your tongue over his like you roll your hips.

“Then allow me to make it up to you,” he grins, long fingers cupping your mound, trapping the heat there in his palm as he rubs it against you. You keen, thighs already twitching. You’re going to lose your mind before you even get to his face.

You’re not alone in that feeling, as he suddenly reaches for your thighs, urging you to crawl up his body. “Get up here, please,” he begs, flat out begs you, and you slide forward as fast as you can. You need his mouth, right now.

Hovering over him is a little surreal - MIngyu’s big brown eyes are gazing up at you in a perfect replication of your favorite daydream, only it’s so much better than you’d ever imagined, because the expression he wears is one of complete awe, like he’s the one living out his fantasy. Again you feel bold, so you run your fingers through his hair, nails lightly scraping over his scalp. He moans quietly, low in his throat, like he’s trying to hold it in, and your mouth quirks in a half smile as you kneel.

“Nice knowing you, ‘Gyu.”

He hums a happy note, lips vibrating lightly just as your cunt reaches them, and you moan quietly. You don’t settle all the way down, because as much as you were playing along with this whole death-by-pussy dream of his, you are slightly worried that you might actually suffocate him, if not because of your weight than because of your dire need, that you might get too lost in the aching desire that’s building inside you, spurred on by the way he’s brushing the lower half of his face and down your folds, just breathing you in, teasing you with his touches but not giving you what you so desperately want.

“‘Gyu,” you whine, tilting your pelvis forward, to catch his tongue as he traces your inner thigh, leaving a trail of saliva behind. He blows a puff of air across the wetness, sending goosebumps running at the cooling sensation.

When you try to shift again, he’s quick to wrap his hands up around your hips, holding you still. Not hard enough to hurt, but strong enough to let you know - he’s in charge now.

“Stay still, pretty,” he murmurs, tenderly pressing a kiss into your skin. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep my promise. Cross my heart, remember?”

With that reminder, he pulls you down further onto his face. His tongue slides into you, nose bumping your clit, and you whimper, hands flailing at your sides, seeking something to cling to, finding nothing but the warm air around you. The pressure on the sensitive bud combining with the wet hot muscle plunging between your slick folds is overwhelming in the best way.

“‘Gyu, oh, that’s so good!”

Mingyu nods his head vigorously, nudging his nose around, letting his tongue drag up and down your slit. It almost feels like he’s agreeing with you, backed up by the way he grunts brokenly, this deep rumble in his chest that gets strangled halfway through his throat.

You’re not sure at what point you start thrust your hips. Mingyu helps you find the right pace, big hands guiding you forward and back, forward and back, until you feel the rhythm all the way from your ears to your toes.

As his mouth slides up to suckle on your clit, his left hand also snakes upwards, cupping your right breast, thumb rolling over your puckered nipple. You shudder, nerves sizzling like power lines, lit up by his every touch.

“‘Gyu…” Mingyu’s mouth pulls another whine from you. You glance down, catching the furrow in his brow, the sweat dripping down his temples. “Oh my god.”

“Mmmmphf,” Mingyu agrees, or so you assume, unable to understand anything he might be mumbling into you. A particularly sharp suck on your pulsating clit makes your back arch, and Mingyu’s hand falls from your chest, disappearing behind you.

The sudden rustling of fabric draws your attention. You glance over your shoulder, only to whimper when you catch sight of Mingyu’s hand stroking his erection, band of his sweatpants hastily shoved down, stiff cock so flushed it brings a matching heat to your neck.

If you were more limber, you’d reach for him, give him a helping hand, but you can’t stay twisted around for long, not when Mingyu’s tongue makes you refocus on his mouth. It’s too difficult to think about anything else right now but the way he keeps plunging inside you, using the thick muscle to fuck you shallowly.

You can’t stop mewling like a cat in heat, rutting back and forth over Mingyu’s tongue. Even in your daze, it doesn’t escape your attention that Mingyu’s absolutely pussy drunk at this point, depraved moans buzzing endlessly against your most sensitive spots because he refuses to detach his mouth from you long enough to let them escape. Every muffled note reverberates deep in your core, joins the tense chord that’s building inside you to a crescendo.

“‘Gyu, please.”

At the sound of your plea, Mingyu stops stroking himself, bringing his hand around to find your clit, middle finger drawing circles around and around and around.

When you double over, hands sinking into the plush bedding on either side of Mingyu’s head, he grunts, tipping his head to the side so he can speak. “You okay?”

“Fuck, Mingyu, ‘m good,” you giggle, suddenly hit by a burst of glee, perhaps due to the lack of oxygen in your head, since all the blood in your body is concentrated in your clit right now. “I’m having an amazing night.”

Mingyu hums again, sounding very pleased, and you meet his gaze, and suddenly you wish his phone was nearby, so you could snap a photo, because this look - hair mussed and clinging to his forehead, pupils blown, nose to chin coated in your glistening wetness - this is a look worth capturing.

“Yeah, me too,” he says, chest heaving as he catches his breath, and the sincerity in his voice steals your own away. If you had any nerve, you’d confess something right now, something you weren’t planning on telling him tonight or tomorrow or maybe ever. But you keep silent, only breathing a tiny exhale of surprise as he slides out from under you, and nudges you onto your back.

Mingyu folds you in half easily, because you’re giving no resistance, letting him shape you the way he desires, and then his mouth is on you again. Now that he's lying facedown between your legs, he’s able to get some much-desired friction without using his hands, grinding his neglected cock into the bed as he concentrates on you.

His tongue glides over your throbbing nub again, and then his right hand ghosts over your slit. You whimper a soft “Please,” and that’s all he needs to slide his finger inside. The intrusion has you squirming, urging him silently to go deeper, and to your relief, he obliges. But he also locks his other arm over your legs, holding them so you can’t keep bucking your hips up.

“I said, stay still,” he mumbles, with no anger or heat behind it, just amusement, laced with a slight tinge of cockiness. He knows he’s frustrating you, judging by the curl of his lips as he plunges his finger in and out slowly, way too slowly, teasing you with what you need most. You try to press your hips down onto his hand, to make him glide faster, but he just leans into you slightly, big arm stopping your movements.

Your whine is beyond petulant. “Don’t tease me!”

“Pretty, I promise you, when I tease you, you’ll know.”

And then he adds his middle finger, curling both, pressing on the most sensitive spot on your inner wall. Over and over, his fingers flutter, massaging until starlight bursts behind your eyelids.

“It’ll be something like this.”

He withdraws his hand.

“Gyuuuuuu.”

If he was slightly cocky earlier, he’s fully arrogant now, face breaking into a wide grin while he laughs. “Wow, so whiny. You do want me bad.”

“I swear to god if you dohhhhHHH-”

You break off in a moan when he lowers his face again, loudly lapping at your wetness. Clever fingers alternate between scissoring and stroking, following the changes in your breathing, and you hope that he’s close to being satiated, because you’re teetering on the edge of your climax, only the slightest bit more stimulation necessary to push you over.

“Mingyu. Mingyu, I’m gonna cum.” You open your eyes, raising your head enough to look at him, to watch with a dropped jaw as he buries his face in your cunt, his own eyes closed in ecstasy, and oh, that’s it - “Oh god, I’m gonna cum!”

Your warning cry - though clearly appreciated by Mingyu, who groans in answering refrain, hips humping the bed furiously - is ultimately unnecessary, given how hard your walls suddenly clench around his fingers. He doesn’t stop his ministrations, fingerfucking you through your orgasm as your lower half trembles beneath his heavy arm. He holds you in place as best he can, sweetly kissing your clit, while you wail and writhe, pressing your palm into your mouth to keep your cries from waking the rooms around you.

Eventually your tremors slow, turning into occasional twitches, before your body finally relaxes. Mingyu continues to lap at you, every pass of his tongue getting lighter and lighter, until he lifts his head. He’s the perfect image of lust, eyes dark and desirous, and you claw at his shoulders, needing him close again.

“Kiss me.”

He wipes his face with the back of his hand, smearing you over himself more as he rises up to meet you. His cock is hard between you, and you moan, knowing that you did that, that he got this turned on just from eating you out, and extend your fingers to wrap around him.

The unbidden sound he utters when you take his cock and slide it through your soaking folds, coating it in your wetness, is the filthiest sound you’ve ever heard.

“Careful, pretty,” he pants, looking down at your hand. Under his close gaze, you circle the head of his cock before rubbing your thumb over and around the slit there. “‘M close.”

“Wanna make you come, ‘Gyu,” you tell him, and he hisses, hips bucking into your grip.

“Fuck.” His long fingers cover yours, guiding you into a faster pace. “But I’m gonna make a mess.”

“Do it. Make a mess.” The need to make him completely fall apart takes possession of you, makes you say things you’ve never said to anyone else. “Come all over me.”

Mingyu whines, chin dropping to his chest. He’s barely blinking as he stares at your entwined hands.

“Pretty… don’t say that….”

“Please, ‘Gyu.” All shame has fled your body. “I want it.”

No further encouragement is needed. Mingyu grunts a few times before he’s painting your stomach in so much white, in little drops and big splashes, doing exactly what you told him, eyes rolling back in his head as he does.

When his high abates, he sits back on his heels, gazing at the mess he created, all the sticky sweat and semen that covers your body. A delirious thought comes to you. Is the sight beautiful enough for him to want to take a picture?

“Wow,” he murmurs after a moment, shaking his head. “You’re even prettier when you’re covered in me.”

His dead serious expression is enough to break the haze of lust hanging over you. You throw your arm over your face, too flustered to look at him. “‘Gyuuuuu!”

“Changed my mind, I’m calling you ‘whiny' from now on.” The bed shifts as Mingyu rises. He laughs all the way to and from the bathroom, laughs even harder when you glare at him, reaching for the towel he holds. He surprises you by nudging your hand away. “Let me.”

His touch is so gentle as he wipes away his mess, then your own. When you’re both clean enough, he lays on his side, draping his arm over you. “Think you can sleep now?”

Oh, you can sleep. You’re feeling satiated in a way you haven’t for a long time, and now that the rush has worn off, you could knock right out. You should probably go back to your room, ride this calm wave right into sleep, not let yourself get too excited at the thought that this vacation might be the best one ever.

Instead, you grin, sliding your fingers through the hair on the back of his neck. “Yeah. But I don’t want to.”

“Oh?” Mingyu’s smile mirrors yours. “What do you wanna do instead?”

“I might have some ideas.”

He lets you pull him down for a kiss, humming eagerly.

“Tell me what you want, pre-”

A sharp rap on the door startles you both.

“Dude, don’t you dare!” Minghao hisses through the wood. “We’ve been out here forever!”

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whorelaud · 2 months ago

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OFF LIMITS – rafe cameron ¡ (06)

social media & irl AU !

pairing brother's best friend!rafe cameron x brat!reader summary you slide into a random boy's dms on instagram, anything but expecting him to end up being your brother's best friend, let alone the person you'll be spending your summer vacation with. while resisting Rafe and his lingering gazes was an option, you found yourself in the constant loop of crossing the line; said line being your brother. ch content fluff, suggestive (sorry...) unresolved tension, a slight panic attack (nothing too serious!), confrontation, lil angst?!?!

NAVIGATION. series masterlist | 05 ! 06 ¡ 07

rafecameron

WY@ - brent faiyaz

liked by sarahcameron, ryanontop and 1,982 others

rafecameron Doing shit I really shouldn't do for real 🤷🏼‍♂️

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yourusername nice post g ↳ rafecameron Thanks g ↳ yourusername you're welcome homie 💯 ↳ rafecameron I’m not your homie ↳ yourusername alr bro 😎 ↳ rafecameron 🤐

yoursername rafe cameron is never beating the slut allegations ↳ rafecameron I'll take that as a compliment thank you! Learned from the best 😊 ↳ yourusername Are you slut shaming me right now ↳ rafecameron WHAT NO I’m just saying like you know ahah Ahaha fuck ↳ yourusername yeah right ↳ popeheyward This is gross by the way ↳ yourusername shut up

sarahcameron put that cigarette down little boy ↳ rafecameron Did bug give you the ‘little boy’ virus… ↳ yourusername it's not a Virus. Embrace it 💜 ↳ rafecameron Okay 💜

sarahcameron you forgot the #aimed ↳ rafecameron Shut up Sarah ↳ yourusername LMAO

yourusername watchu know about brent ⁉️ ↳ rafecameron I love Brent ↳ yourusername hmm 🤔 ↳ rafecameron Are you doubting my music taste right now? ↳ yourusername Yes

ryanontop Shii baby you look fine asl 😍 ↳ rafecameron Stawp! 🙊 ↳ jjmaybanks Awh fawk nah

popeheyward Yooo 🫡 liked by rafecameron

user1 Nah who got my dawg posting song lyrics ☠️

user2 Bro’s pussy whipped

user3 who hurt you bae ❤️

user4 may god bless me with your genes ↳ user3 ?? what ↳ user4 im saying iw ant to have his kids 😊

user5 bismallah my body had a reaction to the third slide ❤️

user6 this is fucking insane go fucking kill yourself you fucking manwhore stop fucking posting shit like this ↳ yourusername this is so real you go user6 ↳ user6 thank you 😇 someone needed to say it ↳ rafecameron Uhhh

user7 i told my parents about us

kelc3eee Fit is hard 🔥 ↳ rafecameron Thanks

It’s been three days since you last kissed Rafe, and yet, you still couldn’t get the thought out of your head, reminiscing over the memory each time you strived to distract your mind from it.

Waking up the next morning was like a punch to your stomach, your hopes of it being a dream instantly destroyed with the harsh reality of kissing Rafe. You ended up practically locking yourself in your room, too afraid Rafe might say something, address the said kiss and stupid mistake of reaching for his face in the first place.

To your surprise, Rafe did not bring it up, greeting you with a sheepish grin once you joined them downstairs. It puzzled your brain, as it filled with a million questions over why he didn’t make an effort to bring it up. It was slightly disappointing, even if it was a mistake, he had every right to sort out the situation, pull you to the side and remind you how wrong it was to kiss him, knowing well aware that he was forbidden to the touch.

But he didn’t, and if he did hint it, you definitely chose to look past it, brushing it off everytime you found yourself alone with him, choosing to avoid the situation and feign ignorance to the way your heart would stupidly flutter.

Now, three days have passed, and things are, well, they’re normal. Your friends were surfing, while you sunbathed on the shore, not in the mood to get yourself wet. Rafe, of course, never left Ryan’s side, messing around with your brother to get him riled up, knowing how mad he easily got.

Their giggles echoed through the distance, tugging a faint smile on your lips as you admired from afar, squinting your eyes due to the bright sun beaming through your skin, blocking your vision even with the pair of sunglasses you had on.

Your arms plopped up against the towel beneath you, supporting your body from giving out, even after maintaining the same position for over a while now. The smile on your lips faltered at the sight of Rafe exiting the water, straightening up when you noticed him strolling in your direction.

Heat flushed your face as you caught sight of his bare chest, waterdrops running along the sunkissed flesh, leading down to his drenched shorts, as they hung low around his hips. Your throat ran dry when your gaze halted just beneath his bellybutton, the trail of hair leading to under the fabric of his bottoms leaving little to the imagination. It drove you crazy, eager to see where it guides, head wandering with sinful thoughts every time you caught sight of it.

You cleared your throat, busying yourself with something else, fearing Rafe would catch you practically thirsting over him. The latter however, didn’t say much, dusting the sand off the towel beside yours, before he sprawled himself next to you, crossing his legs to mimic your position.

“Why aren’t you joining the rest?” Rafe questioned, cutting through the comfortable silence.

“Not in the mood.” You replied, keeping your answer short, afraid your voice would crack if you further spoke.

“‘S that so?” He shot back, nudging your foot with his knee. “You’re boring.”

“Boring?!” You muttered with defense, offended by the remark. “Take that back.”

“Hmm…” he trailed off, squinting one of his eyes, blinded by the scorching sun. “No.”

“You’re such an idiot.” You scoffed, stifling out a laugh. “Are you not going back in the water?”

“I am,” he exclaimed, now turned in your direction. “Can I borrow these real quick?”

“Borrow what?–” Your question was cut short, as Rafe’s hand came in view, not giving you a chance to process his action as he snatched the sunglasses off, causing you to yelp with surprise. “What the hell?!”

“Oh, these are nice.” He mumbled, adjusting them around the bridge of his nose. “A bit small, but ‘s fine.”

“You’re stretching them out!” You gasped, reaching for them back, merely for the boy to dodge your hand, tilting his head down with a mischievous grin smeared all over. “C’mon, Rafe, don’t be like this.”

“Like what?” He cocked his head to the side, observing you through his now tinted vision.

“Rafe!!” You cried out, fully sitting up now. “I spent my hard earned money on these, I’ll kill you if they break.”

“Your hard earned money?” He repeated, further teasing you with his comments.

“Okay, my dad got them for me, but–” you started, growing a bit embarrassed at the admission.

“I’ll give them back,” he hummed, taking them off and folding them in place. “Only if you join me, though.”

“I’m not going in the water.” You refused, dismissing his attempt with a nod of disbelief.

“Why not?!” He cooed, “Come on, it'll be fun.”

“Are you crazy?” You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth. “I’m not getting my hair wet.”

“Please?” He further pleaded, jutting his lips into a pout. “Ryan left, who am I gonna be with, now that he’s gone?”

Your head shifted back to the water, merely to confirm his statement. And true to his words, Ryan was no longer in sight, having probably disappeared back into the house in the short while you and Rafe were arguing.

“Hang out with the rest.” You shot back, addressing your friends, as they messed around with each other. “They’ll keep you company.”

“Have you seen them?” Rafe’s face twisted with disgust, his lips forming into a frown. “They’re eating each other’s faces, God knows what they’re doing in that water.”

“Okay, that’s enough.” You replied, disregarding his statement, and looking past the last sentence he muttered. You saw your chance, and took it, contemplating before you snatched the pair of glasses from his hold, muffling your next words with haste. “I’ll kill you next time you steal my stuff.”

“Is that a yes?” Rafe perked up with excitement, taking your silence as a yes before he shot up, instantly offering you a hand. “Let’s go.”

“What?” You angled your head back, locking your gaze with his, slightly taken aback by the hand he offered. “I don’t recall agreeing to this…”

“Well, you’re obligated to join me now; don’t give me false hope then back down when I urge you to do it.” He started, his words somehow foreshadowing a deeper meaning to the teasing statement. Rafe bent down, just enough to take his hand in yours before he pulled you up, a screech of surprise rattling out of your throat.

“Rafe!” You chanted with disbelief, stumbling over your own feet in the process of running, unable to catch up with Rafe, who hurried his way to the water. “Slow down!”

He replied with a chuckle, a rush of adrenaline pumping through your veins as the water touched your feet, engulfing your legs with each step you took, halting when it was just above your knees.

“Wait– fuck, it’s cold.” You started, hands grabbing Rafe’s forearm for support, a mere attempt to stop him. And it did, with the boy pausing to steal a glimpse in your direction. “Let me get used to the water temperature.”

“You’ll get used to it in no time.” He rolled his eyes, though he slowed down his pace, walking leisurely for you to adjust to the cold.

Rafe chuckled as a wave came crashing against your bare torso, stiffening in your spot as a shiver ran down your spine, causing goosebumps to break out across your arms. A deep sigh tumbled past your parted lips, finger nails practically digging into Rafe’s arms everytime a wave would hit.

Your friends greeted you from afar, not questioning the fact that you were alone with Rafe, a big distance separating you from the rest. Deep down, you speculated the fact that they knew, choosing to avoid the topic every time Sarah would ask about Rafe, or whether there was any progress in whatever you had; which you’d dismiss, telling her it was nothing.

“Can we stop here?” You questioned, when the water barely reached your chin, now standing on your tippy toes to keep yourself steady with the flowing water.

“Here?” Rafe repeated, brows knitting with confusion. “Why, are you scared?”

“Slightly, yeah.” You admitted, pursing your lips into a thin line to avoid water from entering your mouth. “This is the deepest I’ve been without a life jacket.”

“Wait, you’re serious?” Rafe’s expression coiled with concern.

You nodded, angling your head up, not risking how rocky the waves get.

“Don’t worry,” Rafe suddenly spoke, earning your attention when his arm sneaked around your waist, ceasing some of the distance separating you from him. “I got you.”

“Nope, that’s it, I’m getting out.” You muttered, turning in his arms, in an attempt to walk back out, merely for Rafe to tighten his hold around you, with your back now pressing firmly to his broad chest.

Your breath caught in your throat, suddenly very aware of his presence, and the mess you got yourself into. For some reason, this felt oddly intimate, despite the boy’s pure intentions, striving to convince you to continue on with him, in spite of you refusing to.

“I’ll hold you.” His voice dropped barely above a whisper, turning you back around, all while keeping himself steady. “Don’t be scared.”

“But I am scared,” you replied, emphasizing the ‘am’ in the process. “Sure, I know how to swim, but what if you get a cramp, and I try to save you, then both of us drown?”

“Come on, I’ll be your life jacket.” He grinned, deliberately dragging you deeper into the water. “Are you doubting my skills?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” You uttered, eyes widening when your feet could no longer reach the ground. “My parents will kill you if something happens to me, I swear to god.”

“Then I’d have to get rid of both of us.” He joked, halting when you were far enough from the shore, stilling you with the arm sturdy around your waist. “How is that? Wanna go deeper?”

“No!” You quickly shot back, hands flying to his shoulders, holding onto them to keep yourself from sinking. “This is good.”

“If you say so.” He chuckled, ignoring the way his pulse quickened when your hands made contact with the skin around his shoulders, your nails lightly dragging over the flesh. He rubbed soothing circles to your side, the gesture a mere attempt to ease you up. “Relax, nothing is gonna happen to you.”

“I’m relaxed.” You lied through your teeth, avoiding Rafe’s gaze, and instead admiring the view surrounding the rocky path leading to the mountains. “It’s so pretty from here.”

“It is.” Rafe mumbled, attention fixed on you. “Super pretty.”

Your lips tugged into a smile at his words, head shifting back in his direction, where he was shamelessly staring at you, not even failing to hide it. You dusted your face with your fingers, flashing Rafe a confused look, as to question why his gaze burned through you.

“Is there something on my face?” You asked, coming to a halt when he shook his head. “Then what is it?”

“Nothing,” he stifled out a laugh, the corner of his lips curling into a smirk. “You’re jus’ pretty.”

“What?” You choked through a breath, growing flustered from the sudden compliment. “What was that for?”

“What?” Rafe’s tongue darted out, coating his lips with a glossy layer of spit. “I said, you’re pretty. Is that not allowed?”

“Shut up.” You shoved his shoulder, laughing off your embarrassment, though your ears burned with heat.

“You know,” Rafe swallowed, admiring your surroundings. “I heard there were sharks in this area.”

“What? Where?” You shouted, heartbeat quickening as panic settled in. “Don’t fuck with me, Rafe!”

“I thought you liked sharks.” His voice lowered with suspicion, eyebrows arching in a teasing manner.

“Not as they’re about to fucking eat me.” You replied, fully ceasing the distance as you wrapped your arms around Rafe’s neck, pressing your chest close to his. “Get me out of here.”

Rafe took your horror as a chance, the hand on your waist trailing up your back, until it settled just beneath your bikini top. “Relax, it was a joke.”

Your head turned to face him, ready to scold him before you noticed how close he was, nose tulling to brush over yours. A shaky exhale stuttered out of your throat, shivers running down your spine when you caught Rafe’s gaze flickering to your lips, the action so subtle, you would’ve looked past it if he wasn’t mere inches away.

Rafe’s lips slightly parted, tongue fidgeting with the roof of his mouth, fingers squeezing around your side, striving to hold himself back, and not kiss you right then in there. You were close, a little too close for comfort, he wanted nothing but to fuck the barrier Ryan created for you two, dive in and hope for the best.

His thoughts were interrupted when you shoved his shoulders, eyebrows furrowing as your lips jut into a pout, one evidently displaying your distress. “That wasn’t funny! Why would you joke about that?!”

“Chill, I’m messing with you.” Rafe snickered, eyes glued to your face, well aware he’d betray himself if he let his gaze wander past your neck.

“By telling me I’ll get eaten to death by sharks?!” You huffed, pausing as you angled your head to the side. “Wait– how’d you know I like sharks?”

“I have my ways.” He cooed, pupils dilating with glint.

“Mhm, yeah right.” You rolled your eyes, figuring it was either Sarah, or your brother. “Let’s head back.”

“But we just got here!” Rafe protested.

“I don’t trust you.” You defensively shot back, shuffling around in his hold.

Rafe chuckled, abiding to your order. He swam back, with you clinging to him for dear life, not daring to risk it and let go. Though, of course, that wasn’t the end, as Rafe suddenly froze, groaning while his face twisted in pain.

“What’s wrong?” You immediately asked, concern washing over your expression.

“I think– fuck.” He groaned, arms loosening around your waist. “I think my leg is cramping.”

“Wait what?” You frowned at his statement, eyes widening with shock when his figure disappeared out of sight, suddenly struggling to level himself with you. “Are you serious, oh my god, should I call for help?!”

You nearly submerged under water when your arms reached for the latter, struggling to drag him up as he sailed down, your hold the only thing keeping him from sinking further into the deep sea.

Wasn’t it easy to drag weights in the water? So, why was it so difficult to get Rafe to the surface?

“Don’t fucking drown on me, Rafe, please.” You muttered with frustration, heart welling with fear, as your vision blurred, the corner of your eyes brimmed with tears. “Somebody help! Please! It’s an eme–”

Your words cut short when Rafe came in sight, water splashing everywhere with the force of him exiting the water. Your mouth gaped to speak, met with utter silence in return, observing as Rafe chuckled at your reaction, feigning ignorance to your panicked state.

“Did that get you?” He erupted into a fit of giggles, wiping the water from his eyes.

“Are you serious?” Your tone washed with disbelief, heartbeat so loud you could hear it thumping through your ears. “Why would you joke about that?”

“Take a joke, it’s not that serious.” He stated, the smile smeared on his lips fading when he noticed how upset you visibly looked.

“A joke is supposed to be funny, dickhead.” You fluttered your eyes, unable to manage the tears rolling down your face. “What if something actually happened to you?”

“Wait, are you crying?” His breath hitched as he let realization sink in, chest swelling with discomfort at the consequences of his actions. You weakly punched his torso, fleeing from the touch when Rafe attempted to inch closer to you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

His hands cupped your face, resting just above the curve of your jaw as his thumb wiped away your tears, now mixed with salt-water. He repeatedly rubbed his finger over your cheeks, striving to calm you down with the subtle gesture.

“It won’t happen again,” he started, tilting your head with the hands engulfing your face. “I didn’t think you’d take it so seriously.”

“Whatever,” you dismissed his apology, though deep down it softened your heart. “It still wasn’t funny, I was scared you’d actually die.”

Rafe’s lips twitched into a smile at your statement, unable to contain the laughter bubbling through his chest. You looked absolutely adorable, leaving him speechless as his action spoke for his affection. He moved forward, leveling your head down before he ceased the distance between you two, and capturing your lips in a soft peck that lasted a near of five seconds.

Your body stiffened at the gesture, so taken aback you almost choked on your own spit in the process. The plush of his lips brushing over yours felt like feathers, as the warmness of his mouth engulfed your skin. It made you yearn for time to stop, enjoy this while it lasted, even if it was for a short moment.

“There, it’s completely my fault.” He whispered once he pulled back, face mere inches away from yours, you could feel his breath fanning over your nose. “Does that make up for it?”

Your gaze seeked his blue eyes through the small distance separating you, finger nails lightly grazing over his arms. Silence heaved the air, as the atmosphere filled with unresolved tension you’ve both been avoiding for the past few days, weeks, even.

Rafe kissed you, and it’s not some stupid joke to get you riled up, or mess around for a reaction out of you. He did it because he wanted to, completely looking over the fact that you were his best friend’s sister, let alone someone he craved in the dimness of the night, somewhere hidden, where no one would judge him for it.

Rafe has been dying to confront you about the kiss, turning into a giddy mess every time he would reminisce over the memory of your lips softly brushing over the corner of his mouth. And though it was small, barely a peck, it drove him insane.

That night, Rafe chose to ignore the guilt rising through his chest as he got off to the thought of you; being able to touch you though he knew you were far out of his reach, not for his gaze to admire. His chest burned with forbidden desire, growing aroused every time he caught you in none but your sheer sleeping shorts, covering nothing and leaving little to the imagination.

“You know,” Rafe muttered through a ragged breath, “About that ni–”

The palm of your hand instantly found Rafe’s mouth, covering it before he could further speak. You knew exactly what he was planning to say, but you weren’t ready. Not right now, still flustered by the kiss he so casually planted to your lips.

Addressing the kiss from three nights ago in the middle of the water, mind you, in an area secluded from everyone else? Yeah, no. That wasn’t quite what you had in mind, Rafe left you no choice but to shut him out.

“Hmm?” You hummed, trying to change the topic.

“What?” Rafe muffled, lips barely moving due to your hand covering his mouth.

“We should leave,” you fluttered your eyes at him, “The sun is setting.”

“Right,” he spoke, eyes shifting down to your digits yet engulfing his chin. “You can let go of me now.”

“Oh,” you swiftly retrieved your hand, clearing your throat as you turned around to avoid meeting his gaze. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Rafe scoffed, following in your steps as you struggled to swim back, breaking into a grin when your arms pushed through the water, slightly splashing the latter with the gesture. “Here, let me help you.”

“I’m good!” You dismissed the suggestion, letting out a sigh of relief when your feet eventually reached the ground, ultimately approaching a safer zone. “I can handle myself.”

Rafe’s giggles seeped through the silence, watching with a glint of amusement as you aimed for the shore, running your way back to the house when you did so. You gave him no chance to confront you about the situation, though the suspense was killing you, it was just not the right time, nor a good place to do it.

Freaking out felt like an understatement for your emotions, letting out a silent scream as soon as you approached your room. Fuck, this wasn’t the first time you’ve been kissed, so why did it feel like you were in middle school, sneaking around the playground to kiss your crush?

It was humiliating, to say the least. Rafe kissed you, and it did nothing but make you grow more fond of him, increasing your affection for him. Butterflies seeped through your stomach, unable to suppress the smile forming on your lips, letting yourself go now that you’re alone.

Your shower filled with giddiness, as you sang along to the lyrics playing in the background, too caught up with the act to realize you’ve spent the majority of the evening in there. You continued getting ready, doing your skincare, and technically everything you would do on an everything-shower day.

A loud ping caught your attention as your gaze trailed down to your phone, eyebrows knitting with puzzlement when it continued buzzing with notifications. You adjusted the pearl necklace around your neck, fastening your pace when curiosity got the best of you, as you instantly aimed for your phone, heart skipping a beat when you read the contact name of the sender.

It was from Rafe, multiple messages, at that.

rafe 👍: Hey

rafe 👍: Come eat

rafe 👍: We got takeout 🥡

A laugh bubbled out of your throat at the emoji, the invitation silly, yet tempting.

You: im not hungry! go ahead and eat without me :)

rafe 👍: No

You: boy… wdym no

rafe 👍: Come down and eat

Your eyes quirked with suspicion, puzzled over why he was insisting despite you refusing.

You: did you poison my food

You: why are you insisting…

rafe 👍: Damn… I can't even invite you to eat without you making me out to be a dick

You: i mean you are what you eat 😇

rafe 👍:😐 Quit it

You: mb boo

You: is this a date

Rafe’s bubble appeared and disappeared off the screen, the amount of time he took concerning you for a moment.

rafe 👍: Could be one

rafe 👍: Only if you want it to be

Your fingers hesitantly hovered over the keyboard, staring at the message, as if doing that would make the keen in his statement disappear. You swallowed around your dry throat, setting your phone down, merely to process your emotions.

A date.

He can’t say shit like this and expect you not to like him.

At this point, he was playing with your feelings, and that thought alone had your heart breaking to pieces. It’s only been a month, and yet, you were this infatuated with him. Bearing to cross the line for Rafe spoke to you like no other, breaking the unspoken boundaries you set for each other.

You don’t know when it started, from lingering gazes turned into subtle touches, eventually oscillated to heated moments smeared with desire. Wanting each other, not being able to do anything about it because it was wrong. It all fuzzed up your brain.

Rafe was testing you, with each time he threw a hint in your direction. Hell, he should know not to confuse you, as he already went down the rabbit hole of why he couldn't date you, with Ryan warning him every time he’d joke about being into you.

Enjoying it wouldn't hurt, right? Choosing to push the guilt down and let your heart bloom with joy every time Rafe is around was okay, right? Because it’s human nature, how were you supposed to ignore him when his mere presence was so tempting, making you nothing but crave him more.

Guilt was temporary, but regretting this? It was going to haunt you forever, tulling you with decisions you hesitated to commit, afraid they would hurt others, fully abandoning how you felt. Those were your emotions, though, your needs, you had every right to take the risk.

With that, you typed a playful ‘shut up’ back, before heading downstairs, instantly letting puzzlement settle in when you spotted only JJ and Kiara, sitting along with Rafe, who perked up at the sound of your steps.

“Where’s the others?” You questioned, wrapping Kiara in a swift embrace, before you seated yourself next to her.

“John B and Sarah went out for dinner, and I saw Ryan leave with your dad.” She explained, chewing down the mouthful of food. “I have no idea where Pope and Cleo are, though.”

“Oh, they said they’re grabbing booze.” JJ stifled out a laugh, eyebrows quirking in a teasing meaning.

“For what?!” You asked, offering Rafe a tight-lipped smile when he passed you your plate.

“Shut up, JJ.” Kiara rolled her eyes, fixing her attention back on you. “He’s messing, don’t listen to him.”

“I’m not lying–” his words cut short when Kiara kicked his knee, the gesture earning a breathy grunt out of the latter. “What was that for?”

“To keep your mouth shut.” The girl replied, forcing a fake beam across her lips.

Rafe snorted as they continued bickering throughout the whole time you joined them. He flashed you an apologetic smile, not aware of the chaos awaiting you two. Fortunately, JJ and Kiara excused themselves once they were done, informing you they’d be chilling by the shore for the night, leaving you all alone with Rafe.

The air heaved with tension, the atmosphere filling with unspoken confessions you both oughted to address. Rafe’s been full, using the food as an excuse to enjoy your presence for a little longer.

“‘You ignorin’ me?” Rafe started, scraping his fork against the veggie pieces splayed on the plate.

“What?” You shot back, frowning at the sudden assumption. “Why would you think that?”

“Well, it’s just that,” he tilted his head to the side, putting the utensil in his hold down. “You seem uncomfortable.”

“Well, I’m not.” You mimicked, playfully rolling your eyes. “Besides, we don’t even speak for me to ignore you.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” He nodded his head, gaze glued to his arm plopped on the table. “You’d rather kiss me instead.”

“What?” A choked cough barely exits your throat, eyes widening with shock over Rafe’s statement. That caught you off guard, even more when Rafe maintained a blank expression, offering you a glass of water to down the rest of your food.

“Are you okay?” He asked, “Do you need more water?”

“Why would you bring that up?” You brushed off his concern, his words echoing over and over in the back of your brain.

“You kissed me,” he repeated himself, stating the obvious. “Did you not?”

“I did, but–” you stammered, face flushing with heat. “I didn’t mean to?–”

“You grabbed my face, leaned forward, then proceeded to kiss me.” He muttered, reminiscing back to the memory. “What about that did you not mean?”

“It was a mistake!” You hurried to respond, stumbling over your own words in the process. “I was drunk, out of my mind–”

“Oh, so it’s a mistake?” He snorted, straightening up in his seat. “You go around kissing people when you’re drunk?”

“Okay, why are you being a dick?” Your nose scrunched with frustration, exploding in the latter’s face. “And if I do? Then what, you’re gonna do something about it?”

“I’m trying to make sense of the situation here,” he shot back, his arm moving in front of his chest. “I’m not fucking around, okay? I’ve been dying to speak to you, but you never gave me a chance to explain myself.”

“What’s there to explain, Rafe?” Your voice lowered in tone, taken aback by how fast the conversation took a turn. “I’m like Sarah, huh? Then you go n’ fuckin’ kiss me?”

“Why are you switching the–”

“No, let’s discuss the incident from earlier, since we’re fucking talking.” You cut him off, jaw clenching to prevent yourself from breaking down. “You keep pulling these stunts on me– first in the grocery store, then in the car, and earlier in the water– what is it that you want? You know Ryan won’t be happy if he found out, so why do you keep– why do you keep fucking confusing me, Rafe?”

“I–” Rafe’s words caught in his throat, hands clenching into fists.

“Forget it.” You clicked your teeth, grabbing your phone as you stood to your feet, streaking your way past Rafe, with the intentions of reaching the stairs.

Rafe called out your name, voice breaking with despair. “Where are you going?”

The way your name rolled off his tongue made your heart skip a beat, letting your eyes force shut as you feigned glancing back, afraid you’d give in if you caught sight of his expression.

You entered one of the guest bathrooms, locking the door behind you before you immediately dialed Cleo’s number, impatiently clicking your fingers over the phone as you waited for the girl to pick up.

A sigh of relief escaped your throat when she did, a bit of shuffling going on her end.

“Hey Cleo,” you muttered through a breath, taking a deep inhale, as your thumb pressed to your bottom lip. “I– sorry, I know you’re out with Pope, I jus’ really needed to talk to someone and I–”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Cleo spoke, interrupting your rambling. “Take a deep breath, I’m not going anywhere, I’ll be here.”

“Okay,” you nodded, though she couldn’t see you, obliging to her orders. “Sorry, fuck–”

“Why are you apologizing, girl?” She shot back, attempting to soothe away your worries. “Now slowly, tell me what’s bothering you.”

“I kind of, uhm…” you trailed off, fidgeting with the ring hugging your finger. “I fucked up, Cleo. I got ahead of myself, and ruined everything.”

“No you didn’t.” Cleo assured, “What happened? Don’t panic, okay? Everything will be alright.”

“Alright, I didn’t mean to keep this from you, I thought it would be a fleeing moment, but I guess not?–” You hesitated, nervously biting your lip as you prepared yourself for the confession. “I kissed Rafe, and while it was somewhat, he tried to confront me about it, and I panicked!”

“Okay, woah, woah.” Cleo uttered, disbelief visible through her tone. “When did that happen?”

“Three days ago, after the party.” You huffed, angling your head back with a pout. “I’m such an idiot, why am I acting like something happened between us? I lashed out on him and stormed off, what if he regrets it?”

“Well, you’re the one who kissed him.” Cleo clarified, “Why would he regret it?”

“Actually– something sort of happened earlier…” you mumbled, clearing your throat.

“Don’t tell me he fucking kissed you, Bug.” Cleo took a guess, making you freeze in your spot, not denying her suspicions. “He did? What the hell, and you didn’t say anything?”

“Listen, I barely got time to process it, I was planning on telling you eventually.” A sigh stuttered out of your throat, crying out loud. “I’m so dumb, why did I get mad at him? It’s not even his fault!”

“Calm down, baby, it will be alright.” Cleo secured, “I’m sure he understands, this is probably bothering him as well.”

“What if he thinks I’m childish?” You questioned, “I felt so guilty, Cleo, I don’t want his friendship with Ryan to fall apart ‘cause of me.”

“That won’t happen, trust me.” Cleo advised, her tone soft. “It’s obvious that you’re both attracted to each other, Ryan will have to accept it, he can’t interfere jus’ cause he doesn’t want you dating his friends.”

“But he’s right,” your shoulders relaxed with disappointment, already imagining the scenery Ryan would put out. “And Rafe doesn’t like me, trust, I’m like ninety-nine percent sure he doesn’t.”

“Ninety-nine?” Cleo cooed, earning a chuckle out of you. “Okay, come on, have you seen him? Pope told me about what happened on the way back, don’t tell me this man is not head over heels for you.”

“Why’s Pope snitching?!” You scoffed, sniffling as you rolled your eyes. “Okay, maybe he might like me, he keeps dropping hints, but I don’t know?”

“What hints?” Cleo’s tone glinted with curiosity, waiting for you to further speak.

“He texted me earlier, and I was messing around but instead of brushing it off he went with the flow?” You explained, your words coming off as a question. “Maybe I’m misreading the situation, but let’s say he did like me, then what? What do we do, will we keep things a secret because of Ryan?”

“Why are you thinking about that?” Cleo giggled, ridiculed by how much you were overthinking this. “Enjoy it, okay? You like him, go for it, don’t hold back.”

“And if he doesn’t like me?” You stifled out a laugh, leisurely fluttering your eyes shut. “I don’t know, it started off as a joke, but I’m starting to for real like him, Cleo. I’ve never felt this way about someone before.”

“Okay, there you go, you got your answer.” Cleo chanted, making you shake your head. “Now, I don’t mean to be nosy, but it’s your fault for mentioning it.”

“God, what is it?” You rolled your eyes, already expecting what she was about to say.

“What did he say in those messages?” She asked, earning a chuckle out of you, as you moved the phone from your ear, already pulling up Rafe’s contact.

You screenshotted the conversation, Cleo’s voice muffling through the speakers of your phone, her words fully incoherent. “Hold on, I can’t hear you.

Cleo remained silent, waited while you cropped the screenshot, before bringing the phone back to your ear. “Alright, what did you say?”

“I said hurry up!” She chimed back.

“Okay, someone’s curious.” You teased, pressing on the photo icon, before you selected the image and sent it over, waiting for Cleo to receive it. “There.”

“You sent it?” She asked, humming as she pulled up your messages. “I don’t see anything.”

“What? But I sen– oh.” you halted as you let realization kick in, immediately reaching for your phone, hoping your suspicions might be wrong. “Fuck, Cleo, I sent it to Rafe.”

An audible gasp escaped Cleo’s lips at the statement, words going unnoticed as Rafe’s text bubble appeared on the screen, not giving you a chance to delete it before he saw it.

rafe 👍: ???

“Oh my God, he saw it.” You whispered, “Wait, let me go back to my room.”

You creaked the door open, instantly shutting it when Rafe came in sight, heart thumping loud with panic. Your eyes widened a bit, when footsteps echoed through your ears, knowing the owner behind the noises.

“He’s heading upstairs,” you informed Cleo in a hushed tone, “What do I do?”

“Where are you?” She asked.

“I’m in the upstairs bathroom, the one down the hallway.”

“Okay, wait ‘till he leaves, then go back to your room.”

You nodded, even if the girl couldn’t see you, too nauseous to comprehend normal words out. Hell, that probably weirded him out, what will he think now?

However, despite how nervous you grew, Cleo stayed on call, assuring you that it would be alright, even though you knew deep down, it wasn’t.

“Alright, I’ll go now, it’s quiet,” You sighed, breath shaky with anxiousness. “We’ll talk when you’re back, I’m sorry for taking up your time.”

“Are you sure?” Cleo questioned with concern, “I can stay on call until we’re back, I don’t mind.”

“No it’s okay,” you insisted, “Besides, I’m tired, I’ll see about this tomorrow, it’s too much to process right now.”

“Alright,” Cleo exhaled, “Let me know if you need anything, we’ll be back in a bit.”

You bid your goodbyes, putting your phone down as you aimed for the door, peaking your head out to check whether the coast was clear. Your shoulders relaxed when Rafe was nowhere in sight, tippy toeing your way back to your room, making sure to be as careful as physically possible.

Barely escaping the situation, your heart sank to your stomach when you unlatched the doorknob, now greeted with Rafe seated on the edge of your bed, perking up when you made your presence known.

“What are you doing here?” You mumbled, feeling your throat run dry.

You wanted the ground to split and swallow you whole, unable to bear the embarrassment of facing Rafe, now a few feet away from you.

“You know…” He trailed off, getting up with a groan. “I was plannin’ to give you space, talk things out when you’re ready, but…”

Your fingers clutched to the doorknob when Rafe walked in your direction, towering over you and cornering you against the door, as it leisurely closed within each step you took back.

“God, you’re killing me.” He whispered, gulping as his gaze flickered to your parted lips, coated with a faint layer of spit.

His fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt, hesitating before pressing his hand to your hip, his hold burning holes through your flesh. Your eyes remained on his face, watching as his expression changed into something serious, stirring up your insides with a rush of adrenaline.

You stiffened under the touch, slightly taken aback by the bold move, even as your body leaned into it, chasing after the sensation of his fingers marking your skin. ,

“You know how much you’re affecting me, don’t you?” He hushed out, digits dragging up your side, and tumbling just beneath the material, his touch welcoming the warmness of your skin. “The amount of times I had to control myself, and respect the boundaries I set with Ryan.”

“Rafe.” Your tone lowered to match his, an inaudible gasp exiting your parted lips when he pinned you to the door, fingers squeezing the plush of your flesh. “What are you doing?”

Rafe stuck to answering with his actions, bringing his other hand to your face, and taking the curve of your jaw in between his fingers. His thumb pressed to your chin, using it to angle your head up, striving to study your face up close.

“You’re breathtaking, you know that?” He whispered, smearing your glossed lips with his thumb, the gesture causing you to part your mouth in a sigh. “God, you know how difficult it was? Telling myself you’re off limits; when you’re all I think about, twenty-four, seven; always on mind.”

“You’re ridiculous.” You exhaled through your mouth, vision going blurry as Rafe leaned his forehead against yours, his hot breath fanning above the bridge of your nose. “We shouldn’t be doing this, Rafe.”

“I was barely holding myself back,” He muttered, trailing light, open-mouthed kisses to your lips. “It’s your,” a kiss, “fault,” and another, “for tempting,” he paused, “me.”

That was the only sign you needed as you moved forward, letting your guilt wash with new found desire when you captured Rafe’s lips in an eager kiss you’ve both been dying for.

Rafe’s arms sneaked to your sides, locking you in place as he ceased the distance separating you two, though that felt impossible, as he licked and nipped at your lips, suddenly feeling drunk on your sweetness.

You tasted amazing, way better than what Rafe had imagined, leaving him craving more as he angled your head to the side, with the intent of deepening the kiss.

In that moment, you didn’t care whether this was a dream, or reality. In fact, you wanted to wake up the next morning with the same giddiness filling your insides, Rafe being the reason behind it.

You wanted Rafe, the kiss merely proving the yearn tulling your insides, till you no longer were able to bear it.

Fuck it, you chose to take the risk, let yourself enjoy this while it lasts, knowing that eventually, you’d need to put an end to it; hence Rafe is off limits.

a/n all support is v much appreciated! pulling my hair out i forgot how to write. SORRY ik i didnt do the kiss justice but i just wanted to get the kiss out of the way... dont get bored of me yet i promise theres so much more to squeeze in the next four chapters theyre just entering their situationship era 🙈 ALSO IK I SAID THERE WILL BE TEXTS BUT I LIED next one 100% though!!! anyways yeah i hope you enjoyed, lmk ur thoughts!!!

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#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x brat!reader #rafe cameron smau #rafe cameron social media au #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron smut #rafe obx #outer banks #drew starkey

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risuola · 9 months ago

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ENTRY #11 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU // I starve for your touch yet fear to savor it.

contents: arranged marriage!au, nudity, reader discretion is advised — wc. 1690

a/n: there was no way i wouldn't write a fic based on this picture. just no way.

series masterlist

Satoru loves to sleep naked.

The beauty of his innate technique, the blessing that he mastered to no end, has stripped him off one of the most basic human needs — touch. He wasn’t missing it that much, he thought, but there was something in letting go of everything and allowing himself to be wrapped in the silky layers of bedsheets that made his body crave the feeling.

He has always picked expensive garments, the ones with soft fabrics and luxurious feel, despite everyone telling him it’s unreasonable to spend so much on a shirt or a pair of trousers, but to him, it did matter. To him, that was the only thing touching his body when a thin layer of infinity effectively forced everything else back. To Satoru, touch was forbidden, threatening. It was a vulnerability that he, the strongest, couldn’t afford.

But that until he’s met you. Until he’s married you.

You were one of not many people he’s made an exception for. You were able to touch him whenever you wanted because the protective surface of endless matter let you in. Because he himself altered his technique to make you capable of laying your hands on his body.

He longed for your touch. So soft, and delicate, and warm. He craved more of it and yet, despite being shameless and confident, he has not allowed himself to sleep bare even once since the day you and him were bound by the knot of matrimony. It would cross boundaries he wasn’t sure you’d wish to cross; it would make you uncomfortable, awkward maybe — and he liked the way your relationship looked like now. He liked the late evenings you talked quietly, alone and intimate in the warm embrace of sheets and your own house.

For you, he let go of the way he used to sleep before because you were worth the sacrifice, but now, you were gone for few days. You were sent on a mission away from Tokyo and the hours Satoru spent alone in bed, thinking of nothing more but your fingertips on top of his skin, made him desperate — and so, he allowed himself the comfort of soft cotton and silk.

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

You were tired. Exhausted even, by the intense fight you had to pull through, by the uncomfortable nights spent in the dingy hotel room, by the humid weather and rains. In moments like this, there was nothing you envied more in the world than your husband’s ability to warp from one place to another, but you got lucky. Incredibly so, because Ijichi offered you a ride home two days earlier than you were supposed to head back and you thanked all gods and devils for that man’s kindness. He was willing to put on some more road just to get you home.

“Thank you so, so much, Ijichi,” you kissed his cheek — a ghost of a peck that made him all red and steamy and you felt giddy for a moment, seeing the tips of his ears turn crimson. Adorable. You liked him, he was dutiful, polite, trustworthy and constantly terrorized by your husband, so you were determined to at least be the Gojo he likes.

“You’re very welcome,” he mumbled and fixed the frames on the bridge of his nose, pushing them up with the tip of his pointer finger. “Have a good rest.”

“You too, Ijichi.”

Then, he was gone and you were stepping into the house with a deep sense of relief washing over you. Home sweet home. If you were to guess, it was most likely somewhere around 4 am, way too early for anyone to be up — especially your husband — so you gave it your all to stay as quiet as possible. The sun was just showing its first rays from way below the horizon line, crawling up with golden hues and breaking the nightly, navy darkness.

On your toes you moved across the house. It seemed as if Gojo was spending his time alone quite ordinarily — you saw a modest stack of empty takeout boxes, much less humble pile of candy wrappers and his uniform jacket thrown over the couch backrest, along with few other little items that you struggled to differentiate in the nocturnal haze.

You put down your bag, hung up your coat and pushed off the shoes. Ghosting your way towards the bathroom, you were desperate to wash away the combat residuals. You lathered up the shower gel in a rush, desperate to rest and sleep in the comfort of your own bed and then, wrapped in the towel, you tippy-toed to the bedroom, but—

“Came back earlier?”

—you truly didn’t expect to be met with a sight like this. Your husband was awake, just barely, most likely awaken by the water running in the bathroom. His eyes were closed, hidden underneath his forearm and shielded from the lights that were slowly creeping inside, between the dark curtains and onto his face. His body seemed relaxed between the sheets. The softest, gentlest lines of golden glimmer that painted its patterns over his uncovered chest and leg, his hip and one of the muscular arms. The duvet was covering less than half of him, hiding a part of his stomach, the other leg and—

“You’re staring.”

Satoru didn’t even have to look at you to know that your gaze was lingering on his frame. On his very, very naked frame, just barely concealed by the comforter.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, feeling the heat creeping up your cheeks and reaching the tips of your ears and you thanked the darkness for hiding it away. You walked around the bed, hoping to find your pajama where you left it and trying to force your head out of the gutter. You heard your husband letting out a deep exhale and then, a soft hum. His voice was as melodic as always, though you could tell how much sleepiness was laced into it.

Satoru should’ve notice you when you entered the area of your house, but he didn’t. Tired by his own job, by the classes and all of the meetings, he allowed himself to lower his guard and when he realized you’re home, he contemplated for a moment getting up and dressed, but he just didn’t want to.

“You’re exhausted, screw pajamas, just come here,” he said before he managed to think twice about it. It was a daring offer, inappropriate even and he opened his mouth to apologize for it, but then, you rendered him speechless.

Your weight felt good on top of him. You lay your body over his own with feathery gentleness and carefully maneuvered your way to rest on his chest completely. The touch of your skin flush to his own made his brain to short circuit, it felt divine, too good to be true and just so very right, he couldn’t say a word.

“Is that alright?” You asked quietly, pressing your ear right above his heart and letting out a breath that you held for a little too long. Your face felt hot, you were flushed and flustered but also oddly at ease with the current position and you wondered for a moment if it was the tiredness that made you so bold.

“More than that,” he replied, pulling the covers to hide you beneath them. He allowed one of his arms to snake around your waist and his lips to kiss the top of your head. “Rest. Sleep well, wifey.”

“Good night.”

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

10:19 AM

Satoru thought he was dreaming, but the weight on top of him felt too real. The soft scent of citrusy shower gel that lingered on your skin filled in his lungs each time he took a breath in and there was a tickle, he realized — every time his chest raised, a strand of your hair seemed to be moving against his jawline. You were not a dream.

He opened his eyes, blinking few times, adjusting them to the bright light that forced its way into the bedroom and then, he looked at you. You were still very deep asleep, he could tell based off the long inhales you were taking, slow and relaxed, fanning against his peck rhythmically. Your body was mostly on top of him, you were on his chest, your leg was between his and only your hips were resting on the bed. He still had his arm around you, as if making sure you were as close as possible.

It felt incredible. Intimate. It was everything he could have wished for. A touch, skin to skin, so intense it almost took his breath away. He felt nauseous at the thought, realizing that it’s the first time in his life, he’s that close to someone. So impossibly close that just a little bit more and you’d become a part of him. His heartbeat quickened.

It was so right. So awfully correct and at the same time, so very threatening. He felt helpless. Vulnerable. He was at your mercy, he was robbed of everything what made him the strongest, because at this very moment, he was bare. Uncovered before you, wrapped in an embrace that felt loving, that felt soothing, addicting, but if you only wished to hurt him, you’d—

You moved, shifting your weight a little bit, adjusting the position and the way your hand run down his side made him shiver. A soft sound escaped your throat when you let out a deeper exhale. He felt your fingers squeezing the flesh above his hip and then, you relaxed again.

“Your heart is beating so fast,” you whispered, not bothering to open your eyes, and Satoru held his breath. “Relax…”

And he chuckled. His chest vibrated below your ear and the adorable sound of displeasure you let out made him lose all of the tension. He turned, twisting his body inside your embrace to face you fully and he squeezed you with both of his arms, pulling you close. So impossibly close, and you whimpered, suddenly enclosed in a tight hold of your husband’s limbs. That was it for your sleep.

You could get used to it.

taglist: @kinny-away @anan-baban @lotomber @netflix-imagines @kawliflo @nishloves @ghostfacefricker6969 @thejujvtsupost @yozora7154 @cherrycolabarbedwirebedpost @stuckinmoilalaland @ae-mius @ropickle @chokesonspit @lansy-4 @mo0sin @just-pure-trash @foliea @bakarinnie @big-booty-joe

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ervotica · 9 months ago

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you’re an angel, i’m a dog — a.donaldson

pairing; older!art donaldson x fem!reader

warnings; roughly written, badly edited, not beta’d (because when is it ever?), allusions to smut, implied age gap (reader is early 20s, art is early 30s), slight tashi x fem!reader if you squint, infidelity (but tashi is kinda cool with it), just some thoughts about older!art and his pretty girl

a/n; this concept has been eating at me for daysss so i had to write it at least roughly! should we make this a series? (maybe get patrick involved?🫢) let me know what you think! ART & CHALLENGERS (poly!art & patrick) REQUESTS ARE OPEN! any questions / conversation starters about this particular au are highly appreciated and encouraged!! please come to my inbox 📥 <3

older!art is fucking obsessed with you— you, who comes to every one of his matches, who sits next to his wife in those adorable little tennis skirts you sport just for him, who whoops and cheers from the stands whether he wins or loses.

you’re forbidden fruit. so, naturally, he adores you.

tashi knows, because of course she does. she never pries, never so much as spares you a second glance when he wraps his arms around you and buries his face in your neck and huffs hot air against the shell of your ear. she doesn’t care — you’ve made art better at tennis.

his confidence has skyrocketed since having a pretty thing like you cheering him on, his biggest and most enthusiastic supporter. he plays better, he second guesses himself less, he’s more relaxed.

you’re what’s been missing. the last piece of the puzzle.

an obedient little thing, glued to his side, wagging like a dog at his every command.

he fucking loves it. loves having someone relying on him for love and validation. loves the way you preen under his fervent gaze and flutter your lashes at the slightest touch.

when tashi asks you to join art’s team officially, you almost keel over.

“look, i don’t care that he’s fucking you… or that he’s in love with you. he has a shot at the us open this year, and he needs you by his side to do it.” she says. you’re quick to agree, ever obedient and desperate to please.

“he’s in love with me?”

she scoffs. “you’ve seen the way he looks at you. he almost creams his pants every time you’re in the same room as him.” she tilts your chin upwards with a crooked finger, giving your cheek an affectionate - albeit condescending - pat.

“you two can have your fun— but he has to win this year.”

art’s perched against the doorframe when you turn, corded forearms crossed over his chest. you scrunch your nose, pushing back a smile that crinkles at your eyes despite your efforts.

fucking smitten.

tashi rolls her eyes, a half smile tugging at the corner of her lips, and she nudges you towards him.

“go on.”

he opens his arms in greeting and you’re quick to fall into them, your fingers knotting in the shorn hair at his nape. his chest expands beneath your own as he takes a long breath, and he presses his nose to your pulse point, shuddering.

“love you.” he murmurs into your skin.

“love you more.”

he could cry; he doesn’t remember the last time someone told him they loved him and meant it. you’re obsessed with him, almost as much as he is with you.

at his next match, you carry his rackets and send him off with a good luck kiss that has him breathless, grinning as you roll his wad of gum between your teeth that you sucked right from his waiting mouth.

he wins.

how could he not with his pretty girl watching?

and that night, he rewards you with a thorough fucking, whispered love confessions against your lips, and a breathy moan as he cums that you won’t be forgetting anytime soon.

so, yeah. maybe this life isn’t so bad, after all.

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edenesth · 3 months ago

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By Order of the Black Pirates

An 'Ice On My Teeth' Comeback Special Series

"N-No, please! Spare me! I was wrong! I swear I'll never do it again!" The man's voice cracked as he grovelled on the damp ground, tears carving paths through the grime on his face. His trembling hands offered up the tiny diamond he'd been foolish enough to steal—his last-ditch effort to appease the eight figures towering over him like shadows of death.

He'd heard the whispers, the warnings: Never cross the Black Pirates. Never touch what belongs to them. Never even think of betrayal. Yet greed had blinded him. Now, staring into their cold, merciless eyes, he knew his regret was far too late.

The leader of the gang stepped forward, a smirk tugging at his lips as he tilted his head, studying the pitiful man like a cat sizing up a doomed mouse. "Didn't I ask you to screen these rats better?" he drawled, casting a sideways glance at the eldest among them before shifting his focus back to their prey. "No time to waste. Finish him."

A low chuckle echoed through the tension-filled night as the gang's usual executioner, a broad-shouldered figure clad in his signature fur coat, stepped forward, his grin as sharp as the blade in his hand.

"Sorry, buddy," he mused, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "This will be the night you take your final breath—by order of the Black fuckin' Pirates."

ـــــــــــــــﮩ٨ـ

Watching the harrowing scene from a distance stood a figure with crossed arms, his voice low as he muttered to his right-hand, "Every man has a weakness. Find the Black Pirates', and we'll knock them off their high horses."

"And if they have none, sir?"

The figure's lips curled into a dark smile. "Then we'll make sure they do."

Pairing(s): gang members!ateez x fem!reader

AU: gang au

Summary: One by one, the Black Pirates uncover their greatest weakness. But when the cracks begin to show, will they stand firm or let their vulnerabilities bring their empire to its knees?

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Trigger Warnings: violence, torture, abuse, blood, murder, language, contains dark themes in general

A/N: Credits to the wonderful @sundaybossanova for giving me the idea of something Peaky Blinders inspired. Thank you so much and ily💖

**Dearest readers, please note that all chapters are interconnected. You're advised to read them in order.

ATEEZ MASTERLIST

Hongjoong

‣ The Captain

The Captain of the Black Pirates—respected, feared, and unmatched in strategy—lives by his sharp mind and unshakable resolve. But his carefully constructed world begins to crumble when a grave mistake leads him to torture an innocent suspect nearly to death. Haunted by guilt, his quest for redemption takes an unexpected turn, awakening a part of him he never thought existed: a desire to protect and care for someone.

Seonghwa

‣ The Gentleman

The Black Pirates' poised diplomat, celebrated for his refined demeanour, sharp wit, and unmatched negotiation skills, is always in control. But his composure falters when he encounters an unwilling captive trapped in the Red Room—a ruthless training ground for spies. Driven by an unexpected urge to save her, he finds his carefully maintained boundaries beginning to unravel.

Yunho

‣ The Enforcer

The towering enforcer of the Black Pirates, both disarming and deadly—his easy charm capable of winning over enemies, while his legendary fury dominates the battlefield. But his unbreakable facade begins to crack when he meets a psychologist during a mission—someone who can see through his carefully crafted mask, just as he can see through hers. Beneath her confident exterior lies a frightened soul lost in a dark world, and for the first time, he finds himself compelled to protect someone in a way he never expected.

Yeosang

‣ The Phantom [Coming soon]

Mysterious and elusive, the Black Pirates' intelligence expert is known for his sharp instincts and unparalleled skill in espionage and reconnaissance. But when he crosses paths with a woman who surpasses him in both skill and wit for the first time, his confidence begins to waver. As she outsmarts him at every turn, he finds himself unexpectedly drawn to her, eagerly anticipating each challenge—because the thrill of being near her is something he never expected to crave.

San

‣ The Tempest [Coming soon]

The Black Pirates' most unpredictable force is a whirlwind of fiery passion and unbridled energy—always the first to leap into action when chaos erupts. But his world tilts when he stumbles upon a woman who, unlike his victims who always begged to live, is on the brink of ending her own life. Upon discovering she's terminally ill, he finds himself gripped by an unfamiliar and urgent desire to save her, igniting a battle within himself unlike anything he's ever faced.

Mingi

‣ The Firestarter [Coming soon]

The Black Pirates' wild card is notorious for his fiery temper and even more explosive schemes—a dangerous yet irresistibly charming presence. But his confidence takes a hit when one of his near-disastrous plans is salvaged by an unlikely passerby: a composed and resourceful former aristocrat, exiled and stripped of her wealth, now navigating the world's harsh realities. Her icy demeanour and unshakable poise captivate him, leaving the ever-impulsive man unexpectedly drawn to her.

Wooyoung

‣ The Charmer [Coming soon]

The Black Pirates' negotiator and master of distractions is renowned for his confidence and flirtatious charm, which can sway almost anyone. But his ego is severely wounded when he encounters the loyal bodyguard of a high-profile target, someone completely immune to his usual tricks, during a high-stakes mission. Frustrated by his failure yet captivated by her unwavering resolve, he finds himself unable to stay away, drawn to the challenge—and to her—in ways he never expected.

Jongho

‣ The Anchor [Coming soon]

The steadfast foundation of the Black Pirates is renowned for his unfaltering strength and calm under pressure. As the gang's moral compass and protector, he's always put duty above all else. But when a rival gang's attack threatens the life of their kind-hearted hired doctor, he begins to realise that his priorities extend beyond just his brothers. Torn between his loyalty to the gang and his growing feelings for her, he faces an agonising choice: protect his family or save her.

Voila, my loves! As promised, I finally managed to come up with a little something for this comeback teehee. I hope you're as excited about this as I am! Truthfully, I just returned from a 10-day trip in Shanghai and am back to work on Monday already - which means I might not be able to write much until the following weekend but I will do my best to get the parts out ASAP!

Super excited to hear your thoughts on the concept! Do let me know which member's summary enticed you the most!✨ and of course, just leave a comment if you'd like to be tagged for when the parts are released!

General ATEEZ Tag list:

@aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01

@evidive @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @ho3-for-yunho

@the-kpop-simp @itstheghostofmypast @vantediary @green-agent @skzline

@sharksandminhos @writingwieny @heyitsmetonid @tinyteezer @hollxe1

@pandabur666 @vampzity @tournesol155 @lilactangerine @oddracha

@haven-cove @idfkeddieishot @vic0921 @vnessalau @apriecotte

@bangtannie7 @vtyb23 @khjoongie98 @scuzmunkie @anxiousskylar

@bunny4yungi @zl-world @bethelighthalazia @tsunchani

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR OTHERWISE REPURPOSE ANY OF THE WORK HERE.

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gravegoer · 2 months ago

Note

possible royal au with sevika?? her as a knight, bodyguard.. etc .. 🩷

also you are lowkey THE sevika writer ..

Royal Blood — 🜲

thank you, anon. i appreciate that ! also, i might make this a series (send in an ask if you are interested) summary: sevika might have a little crush, but it's so immoral— i mean, you're a royal !! also i dont use any physical descriptions in ANY of my stories unless specifically mentioned i have 20 asks in my inbox atm and i promise im getting to them (esp pirate ones) masterlist

Your parents hired you a guard despite your constant complaints. You didn't need a man to watch over you in place of them. It wasn't your fault they could never be home for you.

You are the princess, so you needed to be put in line, no more walking out alone at night, no more hanging out with friends at bars, etc. Your parents wanted to put a stop to it all.

When you were introduced to your bodyguard, it was a pleasant suprise that she was a woman. Sevika. She had dark scarred skin, a showcase of her past on her body, and a prosthetic metal arm that caught your eye immediately. But that didnt mean you liked having a bodyguard any more than you did before.

And as always, your parents planned to leave for weeks on "business" having Sevika watch over you in the mostly empty castle.

Although your parents ordered you not to step foot out of the castle, you needed fresh air badly. Opening the windows to let the breeze in was no longer enough to satisfy you. You felt like a rat trapped in a cage that desperately needed to escape.

It was the late hours of night when you decided that Sevika would most definitely be asleep, giving you the opening to sneak out. You didn't bother to change out of your ruffled night gown and sleep tights before stepping out into the hall. Your feet that were covered with thin fabric protested the coldness of the tile as you continued down the west wing.

It was definitely chillier than your warm room. goosebumps littered your arms before you attempted to rub them away. The moonlight cascaded in a film over your body, peeking through the many windows in the hall.

You turned, curiously, to the window, and the stars illuminated your irises. Putting your hands to the glass you peered at the garden, fireflies were swarming the flowers and fluttered around the fountain. You smile at the sight and suddenly become more enthusiastic about your trip.

Your excitement was soon interrupted by a husky (but loud) voice, "And where do you suppose you're going, princess?"

"I told you not to call me that," You frowned and turned away from the window to see Sevika approaching you with crossed arms.

Her heavy boots thudded on the tile, contrasting with your daintly socked feet. She stopped in front of you to look you up and down, "What? Were you in a rush to sneak out and didn't dress for the weather?" She teased.

You shook your head and looked away, "No, i wasn't sneaking anywhere.. I just wanted to get some air."

"Crack a window, princess." She directly ignored your previous order, "I can't let you leave until your parents return."

You scoffed at her strictness, "I just want to take a walk in my own garden. Can't you spare me that much?"

"What your parents say goes, now don't argue with me."

"This isn't your job—" You instantly start to argue, "Your job is to protect me not to control me!"

"You're wrong there," She stepped closer to you. "My job is to protect you and control you. Your parents ordered me to do so, so that's what I intend to do."

At that, you got angry, "Would you please just be lenient? All I ask is for a walk."

She ran a thick finger over the crease between her brows, and you took notice of the dark circles under her eyes.

"You can't just do whatever you want. You have responsibilities, and one of those responsibilities is to abide by the rules."

You scoffed and started back to your room before she added, "And tomorrow morning, I want you in my sight, no more funny business."

Leaving her without any confirmation, you slipped back into your room and slammed the door, throwing yourself back into bed. You grumbled to yourself about how this castle is a prison and buried your face into the pillows.

For the next hour, you were tossing and turning and eventually pacing around your room. Looking at the clock, it read: 12 AM.

Fuck you needed to get out.

Going on your second attempt to sneak out, you creaked the door open, slower than the first time. You were immediately met with a dark form standing outside your door.

Sevika.

She caught sight of you through the small crack, gaze cold, and confused. She raised an eyebrow, and you saw her eyes rake down your body before quickly darting back up.

"Again?"

"Why are you at my door," You huffed, now opening it fully as she had already caught you.

"I'm on duty," She stated bluntly.

"No, you just want to catch me leaving my room."

"That's called being on duty, Princess."

You ran a hand down your face, feeling the pieces of stray hair that stuck to your cheeks and brushing them away.

"Sevika, I can't sleep," you admitted, although reluctantly.

"I'll grab you a blanket or a cup of water?" She suggested while tilting her head.

"No, I have all of that. I just feel so alone here without my parents," You leaned against the doorframe, now being sincere with her.

She was caught off guard by your honesty and cleared her throat, "I'm sorry— I mean about the whole.. situation you're in"

The only reason you messed around outside the castle and refused to follow the rules is to forget about the emptyness of your own home. Sevika was beginning to realize this.

"Can you help me fall asleep," You stated, catching her off guard once again.

"Miss, I dont think thats appropriate"

You laughed at her instantly, pulling out the formalities when she got embarrassed. "Please, this is an order from your princess."

Her eyes widened at the tone in your voice and the way you looked at her when you pleaded for her company. Finally relenting, she swallowed the lump in her throat and slowly stepped into your room past you.

Your room was most definitely large, with a king-sized bed in the middle, covered with pillows and expensive silks. There was a large curtained window facing your bed that let some light through. She didn't even hear you shut the door behind her before you stepped past her, and ran to flop into your bed.

She eyed the way your nightgown lifted a bit when you jumped up but quickly cleared her thoughts. She stood stifly in the middle of your room before you sat up to pat the spot beside you.

It was hard not to stare at the way your skin tone contrasted the sheets while she walked up to you and sat beside you. (Moreso on the edge).

You chuckled at her nervousness of being in your room and scooted up to the top of your bed, feet behind her back.

"C'mon, get comfortable," you tapped her with your foot, "I didn't invite you in to make you guard my bedside"

She scoffed, and you moved your legs, planting your feet flat on your bed to make room for her to scoot back. She did so enough for you to be able to see the side of her face. There was a flicker of something unreadable in her expression when she looked over at you, eyeing the way you were displayed for her.

Ignoring her expression, you sat your legs in her lap and scooted down so that your butt was pressed against the side of her thigh. Your head was nuzzled comfortably in the pillows and you sighed at her warmness.

"Tell me a story."

You could see her expression, but you would like to imagine her face was flushed and embarrassed. But unbeknownst to you she was looking down at you with a smirk, knowing you couldnt see her face.

Of course, it felt wrong to have the princess splayed out on her bed in front of her, soft legs over hers and hands behind her head, but what could Sevika do, she wasnt invincible.

For a few minutes, she was caught up in a story about something that you thought was dumb. Talking about the woman she served before you, and obviously, you didn't care. You were more entranced with the way her toned thighs felt against the back of yours and the way her calloused hand brushed over your knee.

You had contemplated her attractiveness in the past but opted not to act on your desires, as she seemed very adamant about being professional. You couldn't ruin that for her.

Although tonight, she wasn't denying any of your actions.

You interrupted her story by sitting up, "Mmm, I feel tired already.. Or maybe that's the bordem."

You mumbled that last part.

"Okay, what more could I possibly do," Her grip on your knee got more intense.

You scooted forward, now sitting in her lap, "Just shut up and let me sleep."

You leaned into her.

This was a really bad idea. Sevika thought to herself, hands now hovering over you, not knowing what to do. She almost pushed you away but stopped herself upon feeling you snuggle closer into her chest.

She hoped you couldn't hear her heart thumping against her ribcage. To add to her already racing thoughts, she couldn't even fathom how your parents would react to this.

She would be fired immediately.

Yeah.

This needs to end.

You looked up at her, wondering why you didn't feel the pressure of her hands on your body. Her face was contemplative, eyes locked into a random spot in your room.

You spoke, just above a whisper, "I need this, Sevika."

Fuck your parents.

She wrapped her arm that was closest to your knees around your body to the back of your neck, holding you to her. Her thumb brushed against your cheek comfortingly.

She didn't exactly know what it was like to be in your position, but she knew she wouldn't like it. Her metal arm was wrapped around your back, hand softly on your hip. You could almost feel the coldness through your nightgown, but you barely minded. Her face was pressed into the top of your head, inhaling your scent.

From this night on, she was no longer just your protector, but also your caretaker. She told herself she would be there for you at any moment of need.

Sevika no longer needed to suppress her feelings of want towards you, and this was all the comformation she needed that you felt the same way.

its a bit short but im having the most insane writers block right now, i have so many stories i want to complete that i end up doing none of them... whoops.. but asks are still open it might just take longer

#arcane #sevika #sevika x reader #sevika arcane #arcane sevika #sevika arcane x reader #arcane netflix #lesbian #wlw #royal au #bodyguard #princess au #bodyguard au

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svtiddiess · 3 months ago

Text

Sex Education

Synopsis: In all your years of education you learned that there are many methods to study: flashcards, study groups, the pomodoro method etc. But you find that practice is better than theory. And what better way to study Biology than practice with your study buddy?

Pairing: loser!virgin!med student!Mingyu x afab!med student!reader

Genre: smut, slight crack, med school! au, mini-series

Rating: mature

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: pet names (puppy), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don't do this!), creampie, size kink, choking, loss of virginity, sub!Gyu, big dick!Gyu, loser!Gyu, riding, masturbation, lemme know if I missed anything!

Note: Thank you so much for helping me with the synopsis my twin @tomodachiii! As promised, here's sub!Gyu.

Thank you so much to @onlymingyus for beta reading!

Read part 2 here!

Click here to join my taglist!

Read on ao3

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ

Mingyu.

That's the only thing on your mind right now—nothing else, just Mingyu. You should probably be paying attention to the lesson, but how could you, with the hot nerd sitting right within your line of sight? Okay, maybe you chose this seat specifically so you could look at him without getting caught, but still! He’s a distraction you’re more than happy to have.

You rest your chin in your hand, sighing as your eyes trace over his figure. He’s built like a Greek god—strong, tall, with perfectly styled black hair, and his large square glasses barely hide his handsome, tan face. Oh, what you’d give just to see him without those glasses on.

You’ve known Mingyu since middle school. You never really interacted, but you definitely noticed him around. Back in school, he was known as the nerdy kid with glasses and a scrawny, lanky frame to match. Shy and awkward, he was an easy target for bullies. But over the years, his muscle mass increased, and his frame filled out. It seems he’s been putting in serious hours at the gym, and it’s definitely paid off.

Although he’s the most handsome guy in med school, he’s still incredibly shy and reserved, keeping his circle small and close-knit. Despite numerous people, especially girls, trying to get closer to him, he just pushes them away. That’s why, despite your massive crush, you haven’t made a move. You’re too scared he’ll shut you out and avoid you for good.

You can't help but bite your bottom lip and squeeze your thighs together as you rake your eyes over his bulging biceps, his shirt barely able to contain the muscle. Just one chokehold; one chokehold is all you're asking for, really. You sigh once again, knowing that you'll never be able to have him.

Your train of unholy thoughts is abruptly interrupted by the sound of your professor calling your name. Startled, you sit up and look towards him.

"Miss Y/N, are you even paying attention?" Prof. Choi huffs, crossing his arms.

"Of course I am, professor," you reply, flashing the sweetest smile you can manage.

"Then, for the third time, please answer the question on the board," he says, gesturing to the problem.

"Uh…" you trail off, completely lost.

Prof. Choi sighs and tells you to see him after class, to which you reluctantly agree. You sink into your chair, dreading what’s to come. Shaking your head, you let out a sigh and shifted your gaze back to Mingyu, watching in awe as he effortlessly answered the very question you stumbled over. Tall, muscular, hot, and smart—he really is the perfect guy.

You grumble as Prof. Choi calls your name, sabotaging your plan to slip out of class. Sighing, you drag yourself over to his desk, only to be surprised when Mingyu joins you. You glance between Mingyu and Prof. Choi, waiting for an explanation.

"Y/N, I’ll get straight to the point—you’re failing this class," Prof. Choi says. "At this rate, I’m not sure you'll be able to move on to the next year."

Well, it’s not your fault that a hot distraction named Kim Mingyu exists.

"That’s why I’ve assigned Mingyu here as your tutor to help you pass," he says, nodding toward Mingyu.

Your eyes widen, and you struggle to suppress a smile. Mingyu tutoring you? Spending time alone with him? This feels like a dream come true. You silently thank both Prof. Choi and the heavens for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Mingyu gives you a shy smile. "I hope we can get along well," he says, extending his hand.

You gratefully take it, noticing the blush coloring his cheeks.

"Please take good care of me, Mingyu," you say, beaming, already looking forward to your tutoring sessions.

You smooth out your skirt one last time before opening the door for Mingyu. You made sure to wear your sluttiest outfit today. After insisting that your brain works better when you study in your room, Mingyu shyly agreed to hold the tutoring sessions there.

You smile and step aside to let him in, watching as he sheepishly steps into your house. Making sure your ass is sticking out, you made him follow you upstairs to your room.

You sat down on your bed, subtly raising your skirt, and gestured for Mingyu to take a seat next to you. He awkwardly took his seat and started pulling out his notes.

He keeps his eyes on his notes as he starts explaining today’s lesson—something about the Krebs cycle, though you’re not really listening. You’re too busy admiring his handsome face. You twirl a strand of hair and blink sweetly as you ask (hopefully relevant) questions, but he barely glances at you while answering.

After what feels like hours of studying (it’s been 30 minutes), you whine and beg him for a break, and he blushes as he agrees.

"Would you like some snacks? Or maybe water or juice?" you ask, perking up.

"Just a glass of water is fine," he mumbles, still focused on his notes.

You nod and grab a glass of water for him and a snack for yourself. Returning, you hand him the water with a smile, which he accepts with a quiet “thank you,” while you peel your banana for your snack.

You lick the tip of the banana before biting down on it, smirking when you see Mingyu gulping at your actions. Noticing you looking at him, he blushes and quickly averts his gaze.

"Want a bite?" You offer him with a sultry smirk.

"N-No, thank you," he mumbles, his ears turning red.

You giggle as you finish your banana and scoot a little closer, prompting him to continue the lesson. But he’s a stuttering mess, tripping over his words and repeatedly asking for more water to soothe his suddenly dry throat.

After stuttering his way through, Mingyu finally managed to finish the lesson. Sore from having hunched over, you stretch, not so subtly pressing your chest against his arm. Mingyu flushes, quickly gathering his notes and mumbling something about being late for a gaming session with Wonwoo.

You see him out, throwing in a wink and waving goodbye. You watch as he stumbles a bit while getting onto his Vespa and driving off. Chuckling to yourself, you can't help but smile at how cute he is.

The rest of the tutoring sessions go the same way: you not-so-subtly flirt with Mingyu, while he either purposely ignores it or remains completely oblivious. You even try to out-slut your outfits with every tutoring session, but nothing seems to work.

One night, after yet another session, you lie in bed, frustrated that Mingyu isn’t picking up on your very obvious hints. Who knew the loser nerd would actually turn out to be a huge loser? You sigh, but him being a huge loser is what you find most endearing about him.

You bite your lip, remembering what he wore today—a black polo that stretched perfectly over his muscles, jeans that hugged his thighs just right, and of course, those thick black frames.

You can't help but sneak your hand down your torso as you remember how his arm felt pressed against your boobs. They felt so strong and firm, you bet that he could easily carry you and fuck you mid-air.

You shiver as your hand sneaks under your panties. You circle your pussy, collecting your arousal before pushing a finger into your hole, sighing at the slight stretch. You moan at the thought of Mingyu's fingers being way bigger than yours. His fingers would stretch you out so well before he finally fucks you with his huge cock.

You insert another finger and start thrusting your fingers, moaning out Mingyu's name. You imagine him hovering over you as he relentlessly thrusts into you, groaning your name right beside your ear. He'd growl as your fingers rake his back, leaving angry red marks. You'd wrap your legs around his hips and push him in deeper, making him breed you.

Your other hand circles your clit as you feel yourself getting to the edge. You imagine him thrusting from behind as his large bicep chokes you, putting just enough pressure to heighten the pleasure. He'd whimper and moan in your ear, letting you know how good you feel wrapped around him. He'd fill you up with his cum, again and again, and again, until the sheets underneath you are soaked with your mixed fluids.

Your breath hitches as you cum, whispering his name like a prayer, hoping that if you say it enough times, he’ll appear before you and make your dreams come true.

But he doesn't, and you're left lying in bed, sticky, sweaty, and alone.

You yawn for the umpteenth time as Mingyu drones on about anatomy; you're sure your brain has shut down by now. You sigh as you lean back onto the bed, too tired even to sit up.

"Mingyu, can we please take a break? I don't think my brain can take any more of this," you groan, resting your arm over your eyes.

"U-Uh, yeah, sure," Mingyu mumbles, fiddling with his notes. "We could always switch to a different topic if you want a change of pace…"

"What's the next topic?"

"The reproductive system."

Your eyebrows shoot up, and a smirk paints your face as an idea pops into your head. You sit up and grin at Mingyu.

"Sure, let's learn about the reproductive system."

Happy that you're finally interested in a topic, Mingyu gathers his notes and starts to explain. After about 15 minutes of explanation, you put your hand over his and gently push away his notes.

"Mingyu, I don’t understand the topic at all," you say with a pout, shifting to sit directly in front of him. His face turns bright red, clearly flustered. "I think it would help if we put the theory into practice so I can learn better," you purr.

Mingyu stumbles over his words, stuttering, his brain clearly short-circuiting. You giggle at his flustered state and shift to sit on his lap, your legs on either side of him.

"Will you let me use you to put the theory into practice, Mingyu?" you ask, tilting your head with a pout as you gently cup his face.

"I-I’m not sure h-how…" Mingyu stammers, swallowing hard.

"Oh, you poor thing," you coo. "It's okay, I'll guide you, puppy. Will you let me?"

He licks his lips and lets out a shaky breath before giving a small nod.

"Don't worry, puppy, I'll make sure to take good care of you," you hum as you gently remove his glasses.

He blinks and looks up at you, lips parted and cheeks flushed. You take a moment to admire his handsome face without the glasses. Cupping his face, your eyes trace over his features—his strong jawline, his parted lips, and the small mole on the tip of his nose. Unable to resist, you lean in and place a gentle kiss there, making him shiver.

"Can I kiss you, puppy?" You whisper.

"P-Please," he whimpers, and you can't help but smile over how pathetic he sounds.

You lean in and press your lips against his, and he kisses back desperately, hungry for your lips. You chuckle into the kiss, his inexperience showing with every hesitant movement. When you pull back, he leans forward, chasing your lips and letting out a soft whine when you don’t return the kiss.

"Puppy, if you don't behave, I will punish you," you scowl, furrowing your eyebrows.

"'m sorry," he mumbles with a pout.

You plant a soft kiss on the tip of his nose, then slowly run your hands down his torso, gently squeezing each muscle through his white polo. He moans and shivers under your touch, his eyes squeezing shut.

"Puppy works hard in the gym, hm?" You giggle, squeezing his chest slightly harder, eliciting a gasp from him.

You giggle, then start slowly dragging your hands to his arms, squeezing his biceps.

"God, your arms are so big and strong," you moan, squeezing him hard. "I want you to choke me, puppy. Can you do that for me? Choke me with your biceps?"

Letting out a shaky breath, he nods. You shift, pressing your back against his chest. He gently puts you into a chokehold and squeezes his arm slightly. Your eyes roll back, and a moan slips from your lips when you feel his biceps push against your throat.

You can't help but feel small in Mingyu's hold; he's just so big and beefy. You grind your hips against him, and you feel his grip faltering. He whimpers and pushes his erection against your butt.

"P-Please, I can't. I-It hurts," he whimpers against your ear.

You sneak down your hand and palm him through his jeans, making him groan and buck your hips against your palm.

"Need me to take care of your problem puppy?" You giggle, palming him roughly.

"Please," he strains out, choking back a moan.

He releases you from the chokehold, and you quickly clamber over to grab the bottle of lube you've stashed on the side table. You look over to see that he's already pushed his jeans and boxers down and freed his aching cock.

"Impatient are we now, puppy?" You chuckle, making his cheeks heat up.

Locking eyes with him, you give him a sultry look as you slowly peel off your panties but keep your skirt on. He gulps hard, shifting in place, anticipating your next move.

Biting your lip, you slowly crawl back over to him. You pour lube all over his cock and give him a few pumps, he whines your name and bucks his hips, making you giggle.

"Gonna make you feel so good, puppy," you whisper as you shift to hover over him.

You grab onto his shoulders and slowly sink onto his big cock, the stretch making you moan out loud. Mingyu whines and groans under you, his hands fly to your hips, fingers digging into you.

"F-Fuck," he groans, squeezing his eyes shut as your warmth slowly envelopes him.

Your mouth goes agape, and your eyes roll back when you feel his tip kiss your cervix.

"M-Move, please move. I-I can't," he begs, muscles straining under you.

You slowly lift yourself and slam back down onto him, making the both of you moan out loud. Slowly picking up your pace, you start riding him. He becomes a blubbering mess under you, moaning your name and whining at how good it feels.

"Look at the mess we're making, puppy," you pant out, lifting your skirt and showing him the sticky mess forming at the base of his cock.

He looks down at where both of you are connected and moans. He starts picking you up and slamming you down at an animalistic pace, his hips meeting you halfway. You squeal at the feeling of him rutting into you.

Unable to hold back any longer, he cums hard, filling you up to the brim with his seeds. Desperate to reach your high, you continue to ride him despite his chokes and whimpers. You capture his lips into a messy kiss to distract him from the overstimulation.

"C-Circle my clit," you mumble in between the kiss, and he complies, his hand immediately sneaking down and rubbing your clit in circles.

You yell his name as you cum around him, squeezing every drop of cum out of him. Mingyu moans, and a few tears slip from his eyes at the feeling of you squeezing him with a vice-like grip.

You both take a moment to catch your breath, your head resting on Mingyu’s shoulder as he leans back against the headboard. Licking your lips, you cup his face and look into his dazed eyes.

"You did so well, puppy," you coo, watching him blush and give you a fucked-out smile.

"But I don't think I've fully understood the topic yet. Maybe we should go over it again, just to be sure," you say before smashing your lips on his again.

Taglist: @tinyelfperson @gyuguys @stay-tiny-things @unlikelysublimekryptonite @miyx-amour

@iamawkwardandshy @codeinebelle @brownbunnyb @do-you-remember-summer-127 @sclovreina

@theidontknowmehn @aliiikareed @jennwonwoo @toplinehyunjin

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alygator77 · 3 months ago

Text

ᰔᩚ motherhood and matrimony I ch 7 ᰔᩚ

ꨄ︎ pairing. au ceo! satoru gojo x single mom secretary fem! reader

ꨄ summary. satoru gojo, the arrogant and irresistible heir to a billion-dollar corporation and the son of your boss, the ceo... but when satoru’s father dies unexpectedly, his inheritance hinges on a stipulation: he must marry and have a child, but the child doesn't necessarily have to be his, right? together, you strike a deal: a fake marriage that promises financial stability for you and corporate control for him. as the lines between business and emotion blur, you must decide if your partnership is purely contractual or if it could evolve into something real.

ꨄ︎ warnings/tags. 18+ MDNI, nsfw, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, fake marriage, slow burn, smut, fluff, bit of angst, reader is single mom who recently broke off her engagement, satoru being a cute step dad, naoya is your crappy ex, some triggers of domestic abuse » 【note, this chapter contains heavy triggers of domestic abuse and explicit sexual content (dry humping, grinding)】

ꨄ words: 21k (i'm so... so tired guys...)

ꨄ a/n. happy thanksgiving! sorry this took so long—this chapter has a lot in it. i'm laying down a lot of ground work for what's to come so... this is kind of a unique chapter, and it didn't feel right breaking it up. anyways, here ya go! also, happy birthday @gojoslefttoenail ♡

ꨄ taglist: closed (ao3)

♬ playlist

series masterlist ꨄ︎ previous chapter ꨄ︎ next chapter →

ch 7 // the road ahead

Stepping out of the suite’s bedroom, raindrops cling to the large windows—a warm glow radiating over the common area as each shimmering bead catches delicate streams of morning sunlight, but the only thing that draws your attention is Satoru.

Sitting casually on the plush couch, one of his arms is draped lazily along the backrest, his long legs stretched out as though the world couldn’t faze him. He looks utterly at ease, but as soon as his eyes meet yours, everything shifts. His expression brightens instantly, his features softening into a boyish grin, and those brilliant blue eyes of his twinkle with a warmth that feels like it’s meant for you alone.

“Mornin’ sleepyhead. Ready to get going?”

A soft smile tugs at your lips as you meet his gaze.

He never fails to make your heart skip a beat—every single time. But now, your heart flutters differently. There’s a gentle intimacy in the way he looks at you—something that is much more than casual affection.

Nodding, your fingers absentmindedly tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear as you begin to cross the room, closing the distance between him.

“Yeah,” you murmur, reaching for your purse on the coffee table, then sliding it around your shoulder. “Let’s go home.”

Stepping out of the suite together, it’s almost like the quiet click of the door feels like the closing of a chapter, and the beginning of something new.

You both begin to make your way down the hallway towards the elevator, and without a word, Satoru reaches for your hand, his fingers threading between yours in a way that feels so natural, so right, like they were always meant to fit together this way.

Looking up at him, he flashes you another one of those disarming smiles while offering your hand a reassuring squeeze.

Your stomach flips—but why? This isn’t the first time you’ve held hands—far from it. You do it all the time in public, in front of others. So why does it feel different now?

Ah…because this is real.

There are no cameras. And there is something different in the way he holds your hand—it’s more deliberate, more certain, as if the invisible wall that once stood between you has finally crumbled.

That realization alone sends a warmth flooding through you, spreading up your chest and into your cheeks, leaving you flushed with a delicate shade of pink. But it’s not just the hand-holding—it’s everything. The look in his eyes, the warmth of his touch, the way his presence makes you feel cherished in a way you’ve never felt before.

For the first time, you know for certain that you’re not just pretending.

And despite being able to walk beside him in comfortable silence, you can’t help but feel a little nervous around him now. Everything is different…and that’s exciting, but also terrifying in its own way.

Familiar, but new.

A subtle tension begins to coil in your chest, and then, your stomach betrays you with a low, unmistakable growl. Its soft rumble breaks the quiet moment—catching Satoru’s attention.

“Hungry?” he teases.

“Yeah… I could really use something to eat…” you mutter, almost to yourself, a faint blush creeping into your cheeks.

Satoru’s eyes glint with amusement, and he hums thoughtfully, his thumb tracing idle patterns on the back of your hand.

“Y’know… I should’ve ordered us breakfast in bed. One call, and we could’ve had pancakes, coffee… the works.” Tilting his head, he lets out a playful sigh. “Just think—pancakes and cuddles.”

The thought sends a shiver of warmth through you. His eyes flicker to yours—meeting you with a smirk, and you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face. Nudging him gently with your elbow, you let out a soft, breathy laugh.

“Mmm, that does sound tempting…” you pause, letting the image linger, but then your smile fades slightly—tempered by a tug in your heart.

Haru—is she okay? The wind had howled so fiercely through the night, and you weren’t there to comfort her.

“But… we should get home to Haru…” your voice softens as the concern creeps in, despite your best efforts to hide it.

The teasing gleam in Satoru’s eyes soften into something warmer, more tender.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he murmurs, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “Can’t keep the little princess waiting.”

Once you approach the elevator, Satoru reaches out to press the button. But as you stand there for a brief moment of silence, he glances at you from the corner of his eye—catching sight of your furrowed brow, your lips pressed together in a thin line. Thoughts of Haru cloud your mind—weighing you down. You’re anxious to get home to her.

He leans back against the wall beside the elevator, and then with a subtle movement, you blink as he gently pulls you into his chest.

As his warmth envelops you like a soft blanket, he intertwines both of your hands, holding them between your bodies.

“So…” he sighs, looking down at you affectionately, “pancakes or waffles when we get back?”

The question, so simple yet so thoughtful, pulls you out of your reverie.

“I could definitely go for pancakes,” he adds with a slight grin, leaning in closer, “but I think Haru’s more of a waffle girl, right?”

His thumbs brush gently over your knuckles—a wordless reassurance—and the tension within you slowly begins to fade as you relax into his warmth. Your heart swells that he has caught onto such a small detail regarding Haru.

“Yeah… definitely waffles,” a slow smile spreads up your lips. “She thinks pancakes are too mushy.”

Satoru’s face immediately falls into an exaggerated frown, his lower lip jutting out in a dramatic pout.

“Seriously? Too mushy? Aww man… what kind of taste does she have?”

You can’t help but giggle at his expression, but before you can respond, he doubles down on the silliness—his voice dropping into an absurdly serious tone.

“Tch… waffles are just pancakes with abs.”

The deadpan delivery of his words catches you completely off guard, and before you know it, a burst of laughter escapes your lips and Satoru’s grin widens, clearly pleased with himself—soaking in the joy he’s managed to spark.

“See?” he teases, soft but triumphant as he unclasps your hands, only to wrap his arms around you. “Can’t be stressed when you’re thinking about pancakes with abs.”

“How do you even come up with these things?” you shake your head, still smiling.

“What? You know it’s true,” he declares.

His fingers absentmindedly rub against your lower back as he leans down to place a tender kiss upon your temple.

“But I’ll win her over one day. Pancakes will prevail.”

As his words settle, you feel a warm realization blooming in your chest.

Was… he trying to cheer you up?

Leaning into his embrace, you feel the last traces of tension melt away, replaced by a quiet gratitude that fills every corner of your chest. For once, you don’t feel the need to hold everything together alone. With him, it’s safe to let go, to simply be.

Suddenly, the soft ding of the elevator breaks your thoughts, pulling you back to the present—and as the door slides open with a quiet swoosh, you both step in together, welcomed by its faint hum.

After pressing the button to descend, Satoru’s arm slips around your waist, drawing you back against the warmth of his chest. Your heart skips a beat as his hands move slowly across you—gliding up your hips until they settle on your stomach—his fingers splayed gently over the fabric of your dress.

He nuzzles into the curve of your neck, and ripples of pleasure course through your body as he exhales deeply—basking in your presence.

“Satoru…” you whisper, but his name falters on your lips as he dips his head lower, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder and trailing soft, lingering kisses up your neck.

“Mmm?” he hums against your skin, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

A quiet, airy laugh escapes you, and you tilt your head slightly, granting him better access.

“What… what are you doing?” you ask breathlessly.

“Just… enjoying this moment,” he murmurs through kisses—inhaling deeply. “Is that okay?”

Oh… this is new. He’s so… affectionate.

“Um… yeah…” you whisper, “it’s… more than okay.”

A deep, contented groan rumbles from his chest, and you feel his hands slide to your sides, his thumbs brushing slowly over your hips in a rhythm that’s both soothing and exhilarating.

“Good…” he exhales, a hint of tension in his voice. “’Cause… I can’t seem to keep my hands off you today…”

A pleasant shiver runs through you as his warmth surrounds you—the solid press of his body so close that it’s all you can feel, all you can breathe in.

Heat floods your cheeks, and just as you’re about to say something, he lets out a shaky sigh—his forehead coming to rest gently against your shoulder—his arms easing into a softer, more measured hold.

“Fuck… sorry,” he breathes. “See what you do to me?” his words come out in a quiet, almost desperate groan. “You drive me insane…”

Your heart races at his admission, and a light, breathless laugh slips from your lips.

“Do I?” you glance back at him.

The moment you catch that look in his eyes, dark and intense, a slow, deliberate smile curves up his lips—something wild simmering beneath the surface.

“More than you know,” he murmurs.

Tilting your head, you hold his gaze—a spark of mischief lighting your own as you manage a small, daring smile.

“Well… maybe I like driving you a little crazy…”

A low groan rumbles in his chest as his grip on your hips tightens with a restraint that feels as delicate as a thread.

“Oh, you’re trouble,” he murmurs, “I’m trying to be respectful here, but you’re really not making it easy.”

A thrill courses through you at his words—your heart racing in your chest. For a brief, dizzying moment, you wonder what it would be like to let him lose that last bit of control.

But…

“We’re… we’re in an elevator Satoru,” you exhale with a growing smile. “And… there are cameras, you know?”

Drawing in a slow breath, his eyes drift shut for a moment—as if gathering himself. Then, he presses a lingering kiss to your shoulder, soft yet intense—leaving a warmth in its wake.

“I know, I know,” he mutters reluctantly, “I’ll behave...”

You arch a brow, the faintest smirk touching your lips.

“Really?” you tease, tilting your head. “Because you don’t exactly feel like you’re behaving.”

A deep, rich chuckle escapes him, reverberating against your skin as he leans in.

“Believe me,” his tone dips to a hushed promise, “if I wasn’t behaving… you’d know.”

“…is that so?” you challenge, just above a whisper.

“Oh, sweetheart…” he whispers, lips brushing against your ear. “I’d pin you against this wall and kiss you senseless if we weren’t in public…” his fingers trace slow, deliberate circles on your hips. “But for now, I’ll settle for this…”

A flush of warmth spreads up your cheeks—his words unraveling you on the inside. You manage a small, steadying breath, clinging to your composure as best as you can.

“Good to know you have some self-control,” you sigh breathlessly. “Although… I didn’t ask you to hold back… entirely.”

A spark of mischief lights his eyes, and in one smooth motion, he loosens his grip on your hips—pulling back just enough to shift the energy. His hands slide down to capture yours, and he spins you around to face him with a gentle tug—interlacing his fingers with yours.

“Don’t tempt me,” an exasperated laugh slips through his lips. “C’mon now… that’s really not fair. I’m seriously hanging by a thread as it is.”

His laugh is contagious, and it pulls one from you, breaking the tension just enough to leave you both grinning.

“Since when did you become such a risk-taker, Mr. Perfect?”

He chuckles, shaking his head slightly, almost as if he’s surprised himself.

“Since you started driving me out of my mind,” with a soft sigh, his voice lowers as he brings his forehead to rest gently against yours. “You’ve got me breaking all my rules.”

A warmth blossoms in your chest, his quiet admission stirring something deeper within you.

“I guess… I’m breaking my own rules too…” you admit quietly.

ꨄ

As the limo door closes and the car pulls away from the hotel, you let out a deep, satisfied sigh, sinking back into the plush seat. Stretching your legs out, you slip off your heels with a soft groan of relief, wiggling your sore toes and savoring the freedom.

“Finally,” you murmur, leaning your head back against the seat. “I’m so ready to go home.”

Beside you, Satoru watches—a lazy, amused smile tugging at his lips as he crosses his arms and leans back.

“Mmm... I suppose it was a long night, huh?”

You respond with a dramatic groan—tilting your head back against the seat and letting your eyes flutter shut. The exhaustion from the previous night still lingers—a subtle ache in your muscles.

Will these events ever get any easier? You seriously doubt it.

“That’s an understatement,” you sigh. “No more charity galas for a while, please. I need a serious break.”

A low chuckle escapes him, and you feel the warmth of his hand as he reaches over, his fingers finding yours in a gentle squeeze.

“Oh?” his thumb brushes softly against your knuckles. “Well, well… and here I thought you were starting to enjoy the glamorous life, Mrs. Gojo.”

You open your eyes, turning to give him a look of pure disbelief.

“Enjoy?” you scoff, letting out a soft, incredulous laugh. “Satoru, my feet are still killing me from last night, and my face actually hurts from all that forced smiling. I’m serious. Please, no more galas for a bit. I’m begging you.”

Pressing your hands together in a dramatic plea, your exaggerated gesture pulls a small smirk to the corner of his lips.

“So… you’re telling me you didn’t enjoy the endless small talk, the flashing cameras, the unsolicited life advice?” his tone drips with feigned innocence.

You snort, rolling your eyes as you lean your head against his shoulder, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle over you. With a tired sigh, you murmur,

“If I have to hear one more person ask when we’re expanding our family, I might actually lose it.”

His smirk deepens, a mischievous gleam flickering in his gaze as he leans in a fraction closer.

“Well…” his voice drops to a low, intimate murmur. “I’m more than happy to help with the ‘expanding’ part.”

A flush of warmth rushes to your cheeks—your eyes widening as his words sink in. You lift your head to meet his gaze, but the intensity in his eyes only makes your blush deepen.

“S-Satoru!” you stammer.

He laughs, rich and unrestrained—clearly delighted by your reaction. His eyes glint with mischief as he leans back—stretching his arm along the back of the seat in a languid, confident gesture.

“What?” a wicked grin tugs at his lips. “Just trying to be a supportive husband.”

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, still feeling the warmth on your cheeks as you nudge him with your elbow—a reluctant smile creeping onto your face.

After a moment, you clear your throat, shifting the conversation.

“Speaking of which… Mr. ‘Supportive Husband’… you really threw me off during the interview last night, you know that? Changing the script at the last second?”

He crosses his arms, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Oh, come on. You handled it perfectly. I was impressed.”

Raising an eyebrow, you give him a pointed look.

“Impressed or not, that doesn’t mean I wasn’t panicking. I had everything planned out, rehearsed a dozen times, and then you just… decided to go off-script.” Shaking your head, you sigh in exasperation. “I mean… you know how much I practiced those responses.”

His expression softens, the playful edge fading as he meets your gaze.

“I couldn’t help it. I just… wanted to be honest.”

The words come out quietly, and for a moment, the sincerity in his voice makes your breath catch. You swallow, your mind flashing back to last night.

“Well…” you manage—voice softening as you feel the blush return to your cheeks. “A little warning would’ve been nice. I was just standing there, trying to keep it together while you… well…”

A smirk tugs at his lips as he leans in closer.

“Oh? Did I make you nervous, sweetheart?”

You roll your eyes, though your heart flutters at his infuriating charm.

“Just… try to give me a heads-up next time you decide to profess your feelings in front of an audience.”

He chuckles again, and this time, his hand finds yours—intertwining your fingers in a gentle, reassuring hold.

“Fair enough,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb softly over your knuckles.

But as his fingers linger, his gaze shifts to the window, his expression tightening ever so slightly. You follow his line of sight, noticing the way his eyes narrow, his jaw setting in subtle concentration.

“Satoru?” a touch of concern creeps into your voice. “Is… everything okay?”

Before he can answer, the driver’s voice crackles through the intercom—calm but cautious.

“Mr. Gojo… I believe we have a vehicle following us. They’ve been on our tail since we left the hotel.”

Satoru’s jaw clenches slightly, a flicker of irritation crossing his face as he narrows his eyes—focused on the dark car trailing a few lengths behind.

“I’m already aware,” he mutters, almost to himself.

Glancing over your shoulder, your eyes land on the vehicle in question—a sleek, shadowy figure weaving through traffic, keeping pace with the limo’s every turn. A prickle of unease begins to settle in your stomach.

“Who are they?”

“Probably just paparazzi. It’s nothing new, trust me. Annoying, but they usually give up after a while.”

But as he says this, his expression betrays a hint of tension—a subtle tightness around his mouth and eyes that doesn’t quite match his nonchalance.

You shift in your seat, feeling a mixture of curiosity and unease as the car continues to follow behind, relentless in its pursuit—clinging to your trail like a shadow.

“And… if they don’t give up?”

A flicker of amusement dances across Satoru’s face, though there’s a guarded glint in his eyes. He lets out a low chuckle and his smirk returns—something unreadable lurking beneath the surface.

“Then Ichiji gives them a little… tour of the city.”

As if on cue, Satoru leans forward, pressing a button on the console to speak to the driver.

“Ichiji,” he calls, “think you can lose our friend back there?”

“Understood, sir.”

The limo surges forward, weaving through the road as it picks up speed—the cityscape flashing by in streaks of light and shadow—side streets you didn’t even know existed.

Satoru’s hand tightens on yours as you feel the controlled chaos of the limo dipping and swaying with each sharp maneuver—slipping through intersections just before traffic lights change.

Ichiji’s skill is apparent as he navigates the city’s maze. Yet, each time you risk a glance over your shoulder; the dark vehicle remains close, mirroring every twist and turn with an unsettling persistence.

Satoru catches your glance, and despite the tension etched into his features, he offers you a small, reassuring smile, though a flicker of irritation sharpens his eyes.

“Don’t worry,” he gives your hand a comforting squeeze. “Ichiji’s handled far worse. It’s just a nuisance—probably some rookie who thinks they’ve found their big break.”

You nod, taking solace in his confidence, but the tension in the car is thick, wrapping around you like a shroud.

After slipping down another narrow street, there’s a fleeting moment where hope blooms—you think you’ve finally lost them, that the shadow has fallen away.

But just as you start to relax, a chill races down your spine. Glancing over your shoulder again, there it is—the dark car, reappearing like a phantom.

Beside you, Satoru’s demeanor shifts, his usual light-hearted smirk fading into something colder, more resolute. He’s not just irritated anymore; he’s assessing, calculating.

“Sir,” the intercom crackles to life—Ichiji’s voice breaking through with a note of frustration. “They’re persistent. I’ve tried several routes, but they’re still on us.”

Satoru’s jaw tightens, though his voice remains calm, almost casual—a stark contrast to the intensity in his gaze.

“Keep going, Ichiji. Let’s see if they’re just stubborn… or genuinely serious.”

The limo surges forward—Ichiji pushing the car into tighter turns.

As the narrow roads and sharp angles blur past, your body sways, and you find yourself slipping into Satoru’s side—his arm instinctively wrapping around you to steady you.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of winding detours and narrow escapes, Ichiji makes a bold maneuver—a sudden, sharp left down an alley barely wide enough for the limo, followed by a swift merge onto a bustling main road.

With the limo straightening, he picks up speed as it merges seamlessly with the traffic—the dark vehicle disappearing into the distance—swallowed by the sea of cars.

Relief washes over you as you look back, and the tension in your body slowly unravels as you sink further into your seat, exhaling a shaky breath.

Satoru lets out his own small sigh, his shoulders loosening as the hard edge in his expression softens slightly.

“Persistent, but not persistent enough,” he mutters, casting a final glance out the rear window before finally turning his full attention back to you.

A relieved laugh slips past your lips—a blend of amusement and exasperation. You quirk a brow and give him a wry smile.

“So… is this, like, the VIP experience of being married to you? Complimentary car chases and all?”

Satoru snorts—a smirk breaking through his calm facade as he chuckles.

“Only the deluxe date package, sweetheart. I aim to impress.”

“Well, mission accomplished,” you shoot back, rolling your eyes with a grin. “What’s next? Parachuting out of the jet?”

“Not today,” he lets out a dramatic sigh. “But if you ask nicely, I might arrange it for our next outing,” he adds with a wink.

A soft laugh escapes you, but as the humor fades, a comfortable silence settles between you. The adrenaline from the chase lingers, slowly dissipating into a shared quiet that feels strangely intimate.

Settling back into his seat, Satoru’s gaze drifts to the window—watching the city blur past with a distant, almost contemplative expression—absently tracing gentle patterns on the back of your hand.

You take the opportunity to study him, observing the subtle lines that have eased from his face—for although his hand, still entwined with yours, feels relaxed, there’s something lingering in his eyes.

A guarded look, a shadow of vigilance—as though he’s still braced for the next challenge, the next threat lurking around the corner.

You can’t help but feel a pang of empathy, a longing to understand, to somehow lighten the burdens he doesn’t speak of. And as you sit there, your hand in his, the question rises to the surface, soft but insistent.

“Does it ever get… easier?”

He blinks, pulling his gaze from the window to look at you, a faint surprise flickering in his eyes as he considers your question.

“Easier?” his voice lowers, softened by a hint of weariness. “I guess… you learn to live with it,” his gaze drifts again. “The constant attention, the expectations… it just becomes a part of you, like background noise.”

With a subtle pause, a quiet sigh slips from his lips, barely audible.

“Perhaps it only gets easier to pretend it doesn’t bother me.”

As his confession hangs between you, your heart aches for him—for the weight he’s constantly been forced to carry in silence.

Gently, you give his hand a reassuring squeeze, and feeling a surge of tenderness, you shift closer—resting your head against his shoulder in a gesture of quiet support.

“That must have been… hard to grow up with, Satoru.”

A wry smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, his gaze dropping to where your hands are entwined.

“Well… when you grow up in a family like mine, you learn early on that everything comes with a price. Privacy, peace, even… happiness.”

He pauses, the faintest shadow crossing his face. You feel his hand tense slightly in yours.

“My father… he was very clear about what he expected, what he considered acceptable.”

A flicker of vulnerability passes through his gaze, and for a brief moment, he seems to struggle, as if wrestling with the decision to reveal more or to keep his past guarded.

His jaw tightens, as he reluctantly mutters, “…and if something threatened that image?”

Tilting your head slightly, your heart aches as you sense the struggle behind his words.

There’s a part of you that dreads the answer, that fears what he might say, but another part—the part that trusts him, that wants to understand—urges you forward.

“What would he do… if something threatened it?”

The silence feels heavy, and Satoru’s gaze grows distant—his eyes unfocused, as if he’s looking at something far beyond the present.

“He’d… handle it,” he pauses, hesitating. “He had a way of making problems… disappear. It didn’t matter what—or who—got in the way.”

A chill runs down your spine, his words settling over you like a shadow. And then, like a whisper carried in the wind, another voice intrudes, one you’d rather forget—Naoya.

‘The Gojo family isn’t as squeaky clean as they’d like everyone to believe’

Swallowing, the knot in your stomach tightens—uncertainty and unease churning within you.

‘Corporate malpractice. Insider trading. Swept under the rug.’

Your mind races with questions, possibilities—fragments of a puzzle that feel just out of reach.

But as you look at Satoru, his profile softened by the passing streetlights, his expression seemingly relaxed yet shadowed by an inner turmoil—you feel an undeniable urge to understand, to know the truth—not from anyone else’s lips but his.

What’s his side of the story?

You chew on the thought, and the question sits heavy on your tongue—tangled with hesitation and a nagging curiosity that prickles under your skin.

Part of you fears what he may reveal; wonders what will come to light if you dare pull back the curtain. But you’ve already made your choice—you have placed your trust in him, and now, it’s time to act on it.

“Hey… Satoru?”

At the sound of your voice, his expression softens, his gaze shifting from the window to meet yours, a faint smile touching his lips

“Hmm?”

Hesitating for a heartbeat, you gather your courage—finding your words.

“There’s… something Naoya said that’s been bothering me.”

Satoru’s brow knits, his relaxed posture shifting as a flicker of apprehension crosses his face. He leans in, subtly closing the distance between you.

“…what did he say?”

You swallow, steadying yourself.

“He mentioned… a court case. Said it was ‘swept under the rug’ by your family.”

At this, a faint tension settles over him, and he glances away—his gaze clouding as though he’s sifting through memories he’d rather not confront.

“Well… Naoya’s not entirely wrong,” he hesitates, a flicker of something heavy in his eyes. “There was a case… years ago, before my father passed. I… wouldn’t say it was ‘swept under the rug’ though.”

Sensing the reluctance in his words, you shift closer, letting your hand rest lightly on his arm—a quiet reassurance that he doesn’t have to face this alone.

“What happened?” you ask gently.

There is a beat of silence—his eyes flickering to yours as he lets out a deep sigh.

“Look… my father was a powerful man,” he begins, low and guarded. “He would do whatever he thought was necessary to protect our family’s legacy. But… at some point, having power like that attracts attention from people who want to exploit it.”

With a subtle pause, he holds your gaze, gauging your reaction—almost as though he’s afraid of what you might think. You offer an encouraging nod—silently urging him to continue.

“They were… dangerous people,” he continues. “At first, they saw my father’s influence as something they could control—a tool to serve their agenda. But when he refused to play along…” his voice trails off, and his lips press into a hard line. “Well, let’s just say they didn’t take it well. The retaliation started subtly—small threats, quiet warnings—but it didn’t take long before things began to escalate.”

A prickling unease creeps up your spine, the revelation unfolding an image of his family’s past that you’d never envisioned.

The Gojos? Entangled in the underworld?

It seems impossible—absurd even. Yet, as you watch the subtle tension drawing across Satoru’s face, the disbelief gives way to a somber realization. His family’s legacy, so polished and prestigious, carries a dark weight that’s been carefully hidden.

A thousand questions rush through your mind, but one stands out, pressing at the forefront.

“These people…” your fingers brush over his arm in a silent promise of support, “who were they?”

His hesitation stretches, the tension deepening in his face as his eyes darken. Swallowing, his gaze drops for a moment before he finally murmurs,

“The yakuza.”

A soft, involuntary gasp escapes you—your breath catching as the gravity of his words sink in.

“The yakuza?”

You stare at him, searching his face, trying to fully comprehend the magnitude of what he’s revealing—though all he offers is a nod, his expression grim.

“I… I had no idea it was that serious,” you stammer. “I… I thought… maybe it was just business rivals or… or people with grudges. But… the yakuza?”

“Yeah… they approached my father, tried to pull him into their world. He resisted… but with people like them, ‘no’ isn’t an option. So, they went after what he valued most—his reputation. That’s why they took him to court.”

As his words sink in, your heart races, a new fear unfurling in your chest, cold and insistent.

If they were willing to tear Satoru’s father down so publicly, to ruin him in order to make a statement, what would stop them from going after what Satoru values most now? The thought sends a ripple of dread through you, heavy and unsettling.

The memory of the car that had tailed you earlier rises unbidden in your mind. Was it really just… paparazzi? Or could it have been something more sinister? The possibility claws at you, leaving a hollow ache of unease that tightens around your chest, raw and suffocating.

And then, almost as if summoned by that fear, Haru’s innocent face flashes across your mind—her bright eyes, her soft laughter. The mere thought of her being anywhere near this kind of danger wraps around you like a vice, filling you with a terror that threatens to spill over.

“Satoru…” your voice trembles, the panic creeping in as you whisper, “If they were willing to go to those lengths… what does this mean for us? For Haru?”

Noticing the anxiety bubbling within you, Satoru’s expression softens as his hand finds yours—warm and steady, a reassuring grip.

“Hey… you don’t have to worry about that. Not anymore,” his thumb brushes over your knuckles in a soothing rhythm. “My father… he dealt with them. He put their kanbu—Toji Zenin—in jail. Since then, they’ve kept quiet.”

Toji Zenin…

As the name rolls off his tongue it lingers in your mind, echoing, triggering something faintly familiar.

“Zenin?” you repeat, eyes widening as the realization dawns. “Did you say… Toji Zenin?”

He blinks, a flicker of surprise crossing his face as a faint crease forms between his brows. Nodding slowly, his gaze is steady but laced with quiet concern.

“Yeah… Toji Zenin. Why?”

The pieces fall together in a chilling clarity—a cold, uncomfortable realization settling over you like a shadow. Your pulse pounds in your ears, and your mouth goes dry.

“Satoru…” you inhale sharply. “Naoya’s last name… it’s Zenin.”

A heavy silence fills the car, pressing in from all sides, suffocating in its intensity. Satoru’s eyes widen, a crack in his usual composure—a flicker of shock as he absorbs the implications of your words.

“Naoya… is a Zenin?” he murmurs, barely above a whisper.

Leaning back, he releases a sharp exhale as though the weight of this new knowledge has landed squarely on his shoulders. His gaze shifts, unfocused, as he absorbs the impact.

“Well,” he mutters, almost to himself, “that explains a lot...”

But his reaction only sharpens the tendrils of fear coiling around your heart, constricting until it’s hard to breathe.

Your thoughts spiral, slipping beyond your control—images of Haru’s innocent face, of your family thrown into turmoil, of everything you and Satoru are trying to build, crumbling under the threat that looms over you.

“Satoru… this… this isn’t just some family feud, is it?” you struggle to keep your composure. “If Naoya’s related to Toji, he won’t just… let this go. Oh god… what are we going to do?”

Satoru’s expression softens at the panic rising in your tone, and without a word, he shifts closer, reaching out to anchor you. One hand finds yours, wrapping around it in a steadying grip, while his other rises to cradle your face, grounding you in his touch.

“Hey… shhh, look at me,” his thumb traces a gentle line down your cheek. “I will handle this. I won’t let anything happen to you or to Haru. I promise.”

Searching his face, you are drawn to the quiet intensity of his eyes—the fierce protectiveness simmering beneath his calm demeanor. Despite the fear gnawing at you, there’s a flicker of reassurance, a warmth spreading from his touch—one that eases the tension in your chest.

“I know this feels overwhelming…” he soothes, “but I guarantee you, whatever Naoya or his family think they can do, they won’t succeed. Not while I’m here. I don’t care who Naoya is or what he thinks he’s capable of. He won’t touch you. He won’t come close to Haru. Not now, not ever.”

The calm certainty in his voice wraps around you, dispelling the worst of the shadows lurking in your mind. Drawing a shaky breath, you nod—clinging to his steady presence as his words sink in.

He leans forward, resting his forehead against yours.

“You’re safe with me,” his gentle breath fans your face as he caresses your cheek. “No matter what happens, we’ll face it together. I’ll protect you… protect our family. I need you to trust me on this sweetheart.”

You squeeze his hand, finding strength in his resolve, in the steady rhythm of his breathing—and for a moment, enveloped in his warmth and the comfort of his words, you allow yourself to believe—if only for a little while—that you’re safe.

ꨄ

As the door of the Gojo estate clicks shut behind you, the hurried patter of small feet echoes down the hall. Haru rounds the corner, her small frame skidding slightly as she sees you—eyes wide with relief but a little red-rimmed.

“Mama!”

Her bottom lip quivers as she reaches for you, and her little arms are stretched out as far as they can go—desperate and open.

Dropping to your knees just in time, she crashes into you—her small hands clinging desperately to your shoulders as she buries her face in the crook of your neck.

“Oh, sweet girl,” you whisper, pressing a gentle kiss to her head. “I missed you too, baby. It’s okay. Mama’s here.”

It’s all you can do to hold her close, stroking her back in soothing circles as her quiet whimpers are muffled against you. Then, lifting your gaze, you catch the nanny’s gentle, sympathetic smile from where she stands nearby—watching the reunion with soft eyes.

“How was she?” you ask quietly.

The nanny gives a small, reassuring nod.

“She was very brave,” she says kindly. “The storm shook her up a bit, but she’s been a trooper.”

Stepping beside you, Satoru’s comforting hand rests on your shoulder as he listens—his gaze softening as he looks down at Haru nestled against you. He turns to the nanny, and offers a grateful smile.

“Thank you for staying with her through the night. We really appreciate it.”

The nanny smiles, her gaze flickering to Haru, who is now sniffling quietly in your arms.

“Of course, Mr. Gojo. She’s a sweetheart.” Leaning down, she pats Haru’s head gently and whispers, “Bye Haru. Take care, little one.”

With that, she gathers her things and quietly slips out, leaving the three of you in the quiet of the entryway.

But as the door clicks shut, Haru’s small hands cling even tighter to you, showing no signs of letting up. Her hold is firm, as though she’s afraid you’ll slip away the moment she loosens her grip.

Kneeling down beside you, Satoru reaches out a tentative hand, brushing his fingers gently over her hair.

“Hey, Haru,” he clears his throat softly. “I’m… glad you’re safe. You had me and your Mama worried, you know.”

Haru shifts a little but keeps her face buried against your shoulder, her grip on you unwavering, causing Satoru’s hopeful smile to falter just a touch. He glances up at you, searching for reassurance.

Your heart swells at his expression. This is uncharted territory for him, and though his effort is sincere, there’s an unmistakable hint of awkwardness, a subtle vulnerability as he tries to connect.

But you’re grateful he’s trying, grateful for the patience he’s showing even when Haru’s response isn’t what he hoped for.

Offering an encouraging smile, you squeeze his hand briefly before looking down at Haru.

“Haru,” you say softly, rocking her slightly, “Satoru’s here too. And you know what? I think he missed you a lot.”

Haru’s little arms only tighten around you in response, her small face nestled firmly against your neck. There’s a hint of a pout in her expression as she stubbornly clings to you, seemingly unimpressed by Satoru’s efforts to engage.

With a soft sigh, Satoru’s shoulders slump slightly as he scratches the back of his neck.

“Guess I’ll have to work harder to get on her good side today…” he murmurs, trying to mask the slight discouragement in his voice.

“She’s just a little shaken up,” you reassure him, giving his hand another gentle squeeze. “She’ll come around.”

Determined not to give up, Satoru’s expression shifts, a glint of playful determination lighting up his gaze.

Leaning in a little closer, his voice softens, adopting a gentle, almost sing-song tone as he tries again—this time with a different approach.

“Haruuu~” he coaxes, drawing out her name with a gentle smile. “What if we make waffles for breakfast? Would you like that?”

At the mention of waffles, Haru’s grip loosens ever so slightly. Slowly, she peeks out from the safety of your shoulder, her wide eyes darting toward Satoru with a mixture of curiosity and caution. Her little brows knit together as she seems to weigh her options, the slightest glimmer of interest flickering in her gaze.

Satoru notices, his eyes lighting up with a renewed sense of hope. Seizing the moment, he leans in a little closer.

“We can make them together. Extra syrup, extra whipped cream… just how you like it!”

Haru considers this for a moment, still clutching you but her gaze locked on Satoru—deciding whether his offer is worth leaving her safe place. Then, her small voice, barely above a whisper, asks tentatively,

“…with strawberries?”

Satoru’s face brightens, a wide smile breaking across his features as he nods enthusiastically.

“With as many strawberries as you want,” he promises. “We’ll pile them up nice and high. Just for you, princess.”

ꨄ

In the cozy warmth of the kitchen, the scent of waffles and melted butter fills the air. Satoru—who hasn’t spent much time at the stove since his first impromptu cooking session with you—fumbles slightly with the waffle iron, his fingers awkward as he glances over at you for guidance every few seconds.

“Careful,” you murmur, stepping forward just in time to guide his hand as he nearly overfills the iron. “Remember, less is more.”

Satoru huffs out a laugh, scratching the back of his head with his free hand.

“Right. I was just… testing the limits.”

Rolling your eyes, you nudge him gently with a grin.

“Uh-huh. Sure you were.”

“I wanna put the toppings on!” Haru chimes in excitedly, bouncing slightly on her toes as she stands beside him on a step stool—a can of whipped cream clutched in one hand and a bowl of sliced strawberries in the other.

“Hold on, little chef,” Satoru grins, gently steadying her, a hand on her back. “We gotta make sure the waffle’s just right first. Can’t rush perfection.”

Puffing her cheeks, Haru lets out an exaggerated huff as the waffle iron starts to hiss and steam.

“It’s taking forever,” she complains. “Mama doesn’t take this long.”

Satoru arches a brow in amusement, and you chuckle softly from the counter where you’ve discreetly started mixing a separate batch of pancake batter.

“That’s because Mama knows what she’s doing,” you tease, glancing over your shoulder at Satoru with a smirk.

Clutching his chest, Satoru gasps in mock offense.

“Wow. Betrayed by my own wife. Right in front of our sous-chef.”

Haru giggles at his exaggerated reaction.

“Mama’s the boss,” she declares confidently—holding up her can of whipped cream like a trophy.

“You know what?” Satoru sighs, his grin softening. “You’re absolutely right. Without her, I’d probably burn this whole kitchen down.”

You chuckle, stepping closer and leaning in to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

“You’re sweet,” you say softly. “But I trust you to handle this. I’m gonna prep something else over there.”

He blinks—a surprised but pleased smile tugging at his lips—eyes glimmering with amusement.

“Wait, you’re leaving me in charge? Bold move, Mrs. Gojo.”

“Very bold,” you reply with a smirk, backing away toward the counter. “But I have faith in you. Just keep an eye on the steam. You’re in charge of waffles and keeping Haru entertained. And don’t let her eat all the toppings before the waffles are done.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies with playful seriousness, saluting you with the ladle.

As the waffles cook, you finish mixing the pancake batter and quietly heat the pan—keeping an ear on their conversation. Satoru is showing Haru how to hold the whipped cream can steady, but Haru protests the second he sneaks a strawberry slice from her pile.

“Hey! Those are mine!” she pouts, reaching out to swat his hand away as she clutches the bowl protectively against her chest.

“Quality control,” he argues, popping the strawberry into his mouth. “Someone’s gotta make sure they’re not poisoned.”

“No stealing!” she declares, shoving her own strawberry into her mouth with an exaggerated defiance.

Shaking your head, a quiet laugh escapes you as you pour pancake batter onto the hot pan. The soft sizzle of batter meeting the heat blends seamlessly with the chatter and laughter filling the kitchen.

A few minutes later, Satoru triumphantly announces, “Waffle’s done!” as he carefully lifts the golden creation from the iron and places it on a plate.

Haru squeals with delight—already reaching for the whipped cream as he sets the plate in front of her.

“Careful, careful,” Satoru warns, steadying the plate with one hand while Haru applies a generous swirl of whipped cream, her tongue sticking out in concentration.

“There we go—masterpiece in the making.”

While they’re distracted, you quietly finish stacking a plate of pancakes, adding a pat of butter and just the right drizzle of syrup—exactly how you know Satoru likes. The warm aroma wafts upward as you carefully carry the plate to the table, setting it down without a word.

Haru, oblivious, is busy adding strawberries to her waffle with a proud grin, but Satoru’s sharp eyes catch the movement—he pauses mid-motion, his attention snapping to the pancakes. As his eyes widen slightly, his expression shifts to one of boyish delight.

“You made those?” he asks, stepping closer to the table.

You smile, wiping your hands on a dish towel. “Well, someone mentioned earlier that they were more in the mood for pancakes.”

A slow grin spreads across his face as he steps toward you, his hands settling on your waist as he pulls you into a gentle hug from behind. His chin rests on your shoulder, and his voice softens.

“You spoil me, you know that?” he murmurs.

Tilting your head slightly, a soft laugh escapes you as you glance at him.

“Mmm… well, someone has to keep you in line.”

Haru, catching the exchange, glances up from her waffle with a small pout.

“Hey! What about me?” she asks, holding up her masterpiece. “Look at my waffle!”

Satoru straightens up, feigning shock.

“Oh, wow, Haru! That’s the most beautiful waffle I’ve ever seen. Way better than mine, for sure.”

Her pout shifts to a triumphant grin.

“I know,” she says, plopping a strawberry into her mouth.

ꨄ

The sound of the doorbell echoes through the estate just as you’re finishing your last few bites of breakfast. Haru, seated on her highchair, barely glances up from her waffle masterpiece—her tiny hands busy scooping up a dollop of whipped cream.

You glance at Satoru, curious.

“Are we expecting someone?”

He straightens in his chair, casually wiping his mouth before tossing his napkin onto the table with an ease that feels practiced.

“Yeah, I called him first thing this morning.”

Your eyes narrow on him as he rises from his seat.

“Called who?”

But before he can answer, Ichiji steps into the kitchen doorway, his posture as poised as always.

“Mr. Gojo—Mr. Geto is here to see you.”

“Suguru?” you tilt your head, and your fork clinks softly against the plate as you set it down—muttering softly, “I didn’t know he was coming today.”

“Figures,” a familiar, exasperated voice chimes in. “That’s because someone didn’t give you a heads-up.”

Turning towards the kitchen entrance, you spot Suguru Geto stepping into view. He’s every bit as composed as you remember—dressed sharply in a tailored black suit that perfectly complements his tall, lean frame—though his polished appearance doesn’t disguise the easygoing air he carries.

His leather briefcase dangles casually from one hand, and his eyes flicker to you—a polite smile tugging at his lips.

“y/n, nice to see you again.”

“Likewise,” you reply, matching his smile with your own.

Then, Suguru’s attention shifts seamlessly to Satoru, his expression sliding into something closer to feigned annoyance.

“Well,” he exhales dramatically, running a hand through his loosely tied-back hair, “I see you’re wasting no time dragging me into your messes, huh?”

“Our messes,” Satoru corrects smoothly, leaning back against the counter with a grin that radiates shamelessness. He gestures toward the table, a silent invitation for Suguru to join you. “I thought we agreed—you’re part of this circus now.”

Arching a brow, Suguru shakes his head in amused resignation as he steps further into the room.

“Oh, is that what we agreed? Must’ve missed the memo.”

As he approaches the table, his gaze slides back to you, softening slightly.

“And how are you holding up, y/n? Still surviving the whirlwind that is Gojo Satoru?”

A chuckle escapes you as you wipe Haru’s syrup-sticky hands with a wet napkin.

“Barely, but I think I’m getting the hang of it.”

Suguru hums thoughtfully, nodding with approval.

“Good,” he says with a wry smile. “You’ll need to keep up that resilience.”

Setting his sleek briefcase down on the counter with a soft thud, his tone shifts ever so slightly, as he steadily says,

“I’ll be representing you in court.”

The weight of his words settles over the room, a sobering reminder of the battle ahead. Yet, as Haru swirls her fork eagerly through her syrup and giggles softly, her blissful innocence seems to lighten the tension just enough.

“Thank you,” you say earnestly, your gaze meeting his. “I… really appreciate it.”

Suguru offers a confident smile, his presence radiating assurance.

“Don’t mention it,” he takes a seat next to you. “We’ll go over everything. There’s a lot to cover, but we’ll take it one step at a time. I’m here to make sure you’re prepared.”

From his spot against the counter, Satoru chimes in, his grin practically glowing.

“See? I told you he’s the best.”

Rolling his eyes, Suguru’s fingers deftly adjust the cuffs of his sleeves.

“Flattery won’t make this any easier, you know,” he quips dryly, though the hint of a grin betrays his amusement. “But I hope you realize you owe me for this. This isn’t exactly light work. Maybe start with some coffee.”

Satoru laughs, stepping over to clap a hand on Suguru’s shoulder with playful force.

“Anything for my favorite lawyer.”

“Favorite?” Suguru deadpans, arching a skeptical brow. “I’m fairly certain I’m your only lawyer.”

“Details,” Satoru quips, his grin widening. “Besides, no one else could handle me.”

Suguru sighs, shaking his head in mock defeat as a small smirk pulls at his lips.

“On that, we agree,” he mutters dryly.

ꨄ

The Gojo study hums with a quiet tension, but the rustle of paper punctuates the stillness as Suguru methodically spreads neatly labeled folders across the polished desk.

In the distance, Haru’s delighted laughter echoes faintly through the halls, a gentle reminder of her presence as Ichiji keeps her entertained—a task assigned by Satoru to ensure your conversation remains undisturbed.

Leaning against the desk, stands Satoru—arms crossed over his chest. But the absence of his trademark smirk is striking, replaced by a rare focus.

His crystalline blue eyes are sharp, intent, as they flit to you, then to Suguru.

“I appreciate you coming on such short notice,” he begins, low and unusually steady. “Look… there’s a lot we need to get ahead of…”

Suguru waves off the gratitude with a flick of his wrist, flipping open a folder.

“No problem. I’m used to you dragging me into your messes, remember?” His lips tug into a faint smirk. “Besides, this one’s actually important.”

Sitting across from Suguru, you shift in your seat, your hands clasped tightly in your lap. The weight of uncertainty presses against your chest as your eyes drift to Satoru, who stands as if bracing himself to deliver a blow.

“Suguru,” he begins, tone sharpening, “we found out something big. About Naoya.”

Suguru’s brow arches in mild curiosity, but he continues thumbing through the documents, waiting for Satoru to continue.

“He’s a Zenin.”

The folder in Suguru’s grasp stills—freezing mid turn. His dark eyes flick up, recognition flaring in his gaze, followed swiftly by something colder, heavier.

“A Zenin?”

“Yup,” pushing off the desk, Satoru leans forward to plant both palms on its polished surface. “He’s got more resources than we thought. We’re not just dealing with some rich, bitter ex—we’re going up against the yakuza.”

Suguru exhales sharply, leaning back in his chair as his fingers rub at his chin. The lines of his face sharpen, his usual easygoing demeanor slipping into something far more calculating.

“Zenin… Naoya Zenin…” he mutters, almost to himself, then, a wry smile ghosts across his lips, void of any warmth. “Of course, it’s him. I knew the name sounded familiar.”

You lean forward slightly, soft but urgent.

“You know him?”

As Suguru’s gaze flickers to you, his expression darkens—he nods.

“We went to the same law school. Different years, but our paths crossed a few times.” Shaking his head, he lets out a low, humorless chuckle. “He’s… not exactly the type you forget.”

Your breath hitches as you glance at Satoru, who straightens slightly—a glimmer of curiosity breaking through the severity in his expression.

“You’re kidding…” his head tilts as he studies Suguru. “What was he like?”

Suguru snorts softly, but the sound carries no humor.

“Arrogant. Ruthless. He’d throw anyone under the bus if it meant getting ahead—professors, classmates, even so-called friends. And he did it with a smile, like it was a game. He was top of his class, but not because he was the smartest. No, Naoya Zenin was the most cutthroat. Every victory he claimed was calculated, every move designed to humiliate someone else.”

Satoru’s jaw tightens at the description, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the edge of the desk.

“Sounds about right,” he mutters under his breath.

But as Suguru’s dark eyes sharpen, a flicker of protectiveness flash within them as he turns to you.

“If he’s tied to the yakuza, we need to be strategic. This isn’t just a custody battle anymore—it’s a power play. He’s going to use every trick in the book to undermine you, y/n.”

The knot in your stomach tightens, your hands clasping harder in your lap as you force yourself to speak.

“…what do we do?”

Leaning forward, Suguru rests his elbows on the desk as he fixes you with a steady gaze.

“We build your case airtight. Document everything—your role in Haru’s life, your finances, your relationship with Satoru. We highlight what’s best for her, and we get ahead of whatever dirt he’s going to try to throw your way.”

Satoru plops down in the seat beside you—a casualness that doesn’t quite match his intensity. As he kicks up his feet, his lips twist into a determined scowl.

“And if he steps out of line,” he grits, “we make sure he regrets it.”

Suguru raises a brow at Satoru’s bluntness but doesn’t refute him. Instead, he turns his attention back to you, his expression softening slightly.

“If Naoya’s involved, he’ll stop at nothing to win. But that also makes him predictable—at least to someone who knows how he operates. And fortunately for you, I do. His yakuza connections might make him dangerous, but they also make him vulnerable if we play this right.”

Nodding slowly, the steady conviction in Suguru’s voice grounds you, even as the gravity of the situation sinks in. But then, as your gaze shifts to Satoru, you catch sight of him, leaning back further—his hands clasped behind his head as a faint smirk tugs at his lips.

“Well,” he exhales with a playful glint, “if anyone can turn this into an advantage, it’s you, Suguru.”

Arching a brow, Suguru’s lips curve into a wry smile.

“More flattery, huh? You must really want me to win this.”

Satoru’s grin widens, his signature charm slipping back into place as he shrugs.

“Hey, I’m just giving credit where credit’s due. Besides, I’m kind of depending on you here.”

Rolling his eyes, the faintest trace of a smirk lingers on Suguru as he settles back in his chair.

“Don’t worry,” he reassures. “By the time I’m done, Naoya won’t know what hit him.”

The moment feels lighter, more hopeful, but it’s short-lived as Suguru turns his attention back to you. The weight of his gaze is discerning, his tone shifting into something sharper, more direct.

“All right, y/n,” he begins, flipping open a folder and grabbing a pen. “Let’s get into it. I need to know everything about your history with Haru—how long you’ve cared for her, the kind of stability you’ve provided. What does your day-to-day with her look like?”

You blink, caught off guard by the abrupt shift in tone, but you clear your throat and nod.

“Right… um, well, I’ve been her primary caregiver since she was born. I—”

Suguru lifts a hand, halting you mid-sentence.

“Actually, let’s start from the very beginning. What were the circumstances that led to Haru? Your relationship with Naoya? The more details, the better.”

As the question lingers in the air, you hesitate—your gaze dropping to your hands while your fingers twist anxiously in your lap.

Talking about Haru is easy—she’s your light, your joy. But the road that brought you to her… that’s where the cracks lie.

With a deep breath, you’re unable to meet Suguru’s steady gaze, so instead, you glance toward Satoru.

He’s leaning forward now—elbows resting on his thighs, watching you intently. There is an unwavering reassurance in his soft expression, urging you to continue.

Holding onto that look for a moment, you let it push you forward.

“Haru wasn’t planned,” you admit quietly, voice trembling slightly. “At first, it was… okay. Naoya was never exactly hands-on, but he wasn’t hostile either. I think… back then, maybe he thought Haru might be useful to him someday.”

Suguru’s pen doesn’t pause as he scribbles notes, his eyes briefly flicking up to meet yours.

“Useful? In what way?”

You shift uncomfortably—your hands continuing to twist in your lap.

“To him, it was always about control,” the words come slower now, as if you’re piecing them together. “Having a child—especially one he thought he could… shape—meant he could use her somehow, like leverage. But when he realized Haru was… more work than he expected, he just… started pulling away.”

Satoru’s jaw sets tightly, his lips pressing into a thin line. Leaning back slightly, his fingers drum sharply against the armrest of the chair as Suguru presses gently.

“Pulling away how?”

You hesitate, your voice quieter now.

“He started coming home less… and when he was home, it was like walking on eggshells. Nothing was ever good enough—how I held her, how I fed her, how I…” Drawing in a shaky breath, your voice wavers slightly. “How I was raising her. He had an opinion about everything. I couldn’t do anything right.”

Suguru’s pen stills, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he listens intently. Across from you, Satoru’s posture stiffens further, and you can see his knuckles whitening where they grip the armrest.

“I was young and scared,” your voice wavers, tinged with a quiet shame. “And I thought… I thought I could change him. That maybe things would get better.”

Your gaze drops to your lap again, your fingers twisting together so tightly it feels like your knuckles might split.

“But… they didn’t. If anything, they got worse. He would question every choice I made as a mother. And when I tried to stand up for myself…”

Trailing off, the memories send a familiar shiver down your spine—your body trembling slightly as you attempt to take in a deep, shaky breath.

“y/n,” Suguru’s voice pulls you back gently, and his gaze is steady, though there’s a slight edge of concern to it. “This is important. Was there ever any… abuse? Emotional or otherwise?”

Unable to look up, you can feel both men’s eyes on you—Suguru’s sharp and calculating, Satoru’s burning with barely restrained anger. Cautiously, you take in another shaky breath.

“It… depends on what you define as abuse. He never hit me, if that’s what you mean. But he didn’t have to,” pausing, your hands twist tighter in your lap. “There were times… when he’d get angry, really angry, and he’d slam things—doors, tables. It was enough to make me… worry about pushing him too far.”

The room is suffocatingly silent as your words hang in the air.

As the pressure builds in your chest, the shame coils tighter with each second that passes. Speaking the truth aloud feels like ripping open an old wound—exposing the raw, aching parts of yourself that you’ve worked so hard to keep hidden.

For a moment, you wish you could take it all back, swallow the words and let them die in your throat. But then you think of Haru—her tiny hands reaching for yours, her laughter echoing faintly through the estate.

This isn’t just about you anymore. It never was.

But as the trembling in your fingers begins to spread to your shoulders, you force yourself to breathe, to focus—though the weight of their stares only crush you further.

Is this what it feels like to be seen? To have someone actually listen?

“Is… is that enough?” you whisper, the question trembling as it leaves your lips.

“Oh, it’s enough,” Satoru’s voice cuts through suddenly, snapping your eyes up to meet his. The restrained rage is radiating off him like heat. But then his gaze softens—just slightly—and when it meets yours, you see something else beneath the anger.

Something quieter, deeper. A promise.

“More than enough…” he murmurs.

Swallowing hard, you’re unsure if the tears welling in your eyes are from relief or the overwhelming vulnerability coursing through you.

You’ve handed them a piece of yourself you’ll never get back, and yet, for the first time, you don’t feel entirely alone in carrying it.

“y/n,” Suguru begins, leaning forward slightly, “what you’re describing… controlling behavior, intimidation, emotional manipulation—that is abuse.”

There’s a quiet emphasis in his words, as if he’s trying to make sure you truly hear him.

“Even if he didn’t put his hands on you, using fear and control to keep you in line is just another way to break someone without leaving a mark.”

His acknowledgement is both freeing and suffocating—and as the truth of his words sink in slowly, for a moment, all you can do is nod—your throat too tight to form a proper response.

“I think we’ve covered enough for today,” Satoru says suddenly, leaving no room for argument. He rises from his seat. “We can pick this back up tomorrow.”

Opening his mouth to protest, the words are poised on the tip of Suguru’s tongue, but Satoru silences him with a single sharp glance and a slight shake of his head—not aggressive, but firm.

“She’s been through enough for one day,” his gaze flickers to you, and the edge of his earlier anger melts away into something gentler as he murmurs, “let her breathe.”

Suguru hesitates, studying Satoru for a moment, before letting out a sigh. He leans back in his chair, snapping his folder shut with a quiet click.

“Alright…” he concedes, “We’ll pick this up tomorrow.”

The tension in the room eases slightly as Suguru begins to gather his papers, but your body remains taut—like a string pulled too tightly.

Managing a small nod, gratitude blooms in your chest, though you’re not sure how to voice it. Your lips part to say something to Satoru—anything—but the words refuse to come.

Stepping closer, Satoru reaches your side, and he crouches slightly, bringing himself closer to your eye level. As he lifts his hand, his fingers graze your cheek, softly tucking back a loose strand of your hair.

“Come on,” he whispers, “Let’s get out of here.”

And for the first time since the conversation began, you feel like you can finally exhale.

ꨄ

After Suguru leaves, Satoru doesn’t say much about your conversation in the study. There are no heavy discussions, no probing questions. Instead, his actions do the talking—offering a steadying presence that words could never match.

He eases you into a rhythm that feels unhurried and safe, and at the center of it all is Haru—her bright energy pulling you both into her orbit like a tiny sun—melting away all lingering shadows of worry.

It’s just the three of you—embracing the gentle cadence of togetherness—the hours blurring into a soft haze of tender moments, strung together like beads on a necklace.

Though what surprises you most, is Satoru.

He’s not the detached observer you’ve come to expect but something entirely different—present, engaged, and effortlessly intertwined in the fabric of the day.

Perhaps it’s the shift in your relationship—the silent understanding that this isn’t a charade anymore. Or maybe it’s his resolve to carve out a meaningful connection with Haru, to find his own place in her world.

Whatever the reason, he is there, fully and completely.

When Haru launches into a vivid narration of her stuffed animals’ daring adventures, Satoru listens with rapt attention, as if each word holds the weight of an epic tale.

Later, when she declares it’s time for an impromptu tea party, he folds his tall frame onto the floor without hesitation,

The sight is almost absurd—this man, so completely out of place yet so effortlessly part of it all. And as the day fades into evening, his presence remains constant, even as the tempo slows.

With bedtime arriving, he follows you and Haru to her room, lingering in the warm glow of her nightly routine. It’s the first time he’s joined you, yet there’s something achingly natural about it—him sitting cross-legged on the floor as you read her favorite story—the three of you together in that small, cozy space.

It’s almost as if this is how it’s always been, or perhaps how it was always meant to be—because now that the facade has fallen away, there’s a quiet sincerity in the way Satoru moves through this new dynamic, as though he’s made the deliberate choice to truly belong to it.

But when Haru’s eyelids grow heavier, her small body relaxes in your arms, and Satoru suddenly rises to his feet.

Glancing up at him, a question flickers in your gaze, but he only steps closer, slow and unhurried.

“I have to take care of something,” he whispers quietly, leaning down to brush a featherlight kiss upon your temple. “Finish up here. I’ll be waiting downstairs.”

Arching a brow, you study how his lips curve into the faintest smirk—but not wanting to disturb Haru’s peaceful state, you simply offer him a subtle nod as he quietly steps out of the room.

The door closes with a soft click, leaving you alone with Haru—and the room feels a touch emptier without him.

Focusing your attention back to her, you hum a quiet lullaby, feeling her breathing grow deeper, steadier, until at last, she’s fully surrendered to sleep.

Slowly, as not to wake her, you rise from your seat and carefully lower her into her bed—smoothing the blanket over her small frame and pressing a kiss to her forehead. Her peaceful expression tugs at your heart, and you whisper a soft goodnight before tiptoeing to the door.

Closing the door gently behind you, the soft click of the latch settles into the stillness of the hallway, and for a moment, you linger there, exhaling deeply as you close your eyes briefly—letting the day’s weight slip from your shoulders.

It’s been quite a day… and this is only the beginning…

But once you turn to head down the hallway, something catches your eye—something unexpected.

Just outside Haru’s door, lies a delicate trail of flower petals—soft pinks and whites, scattered purposefully across the floor, stretching out before you like a whispered invitation.

You blink, your brows furrowing in curiosity as you step closer. The petals wind down the hallway, forming a path that seems to beckon you forward.

A small, amused smile tugs at your lips as a thought flickers in your mind.

What on earth is Satoru up to now?

Following the petals, your bare feet pad lightly against the polished wood, and eventually, they lead you to the top of the staircase—cascading down the steps in a soft, scattered rhythm.

You move forward—descending the stairs, pursuing the trail that spills into the expansive space of the Gojo estate. The petals seem to playfully weave through the living area, pulling you deeper into the quiet elegance of the house.

But as the trail leads you through the kitchen, where the petals curve gently around the island in a playful arc, your gaze follows the path to the French doors, slightly ajar at the far end of the kitchen.

The sheer curtains ripple softly, brushing against the doorframe as the night breeze slips through, and with it, the breeze carries a faint crackle of fire—tugging at your curiosity.

Your heart quickens in anticipation as you step closer, nudging the doors open. The cool air greets you first, but as you step out onto the deck, the sight before you takes your breath away.

The space is utterly transformed.

A canopy of fairy lights stretches overhead—draped elegantly between tall, polished beams that frame the space in a way that feels both intimate and magical—as if the stars themselves have been drawn closer just for this moment.

And at the heart of the deck, a sleek fire pit burns steadily—its flames dancing in a quiet symphony of amber and gold. The flickering light spills across the rich wood of the deck, and the plush outdoor seats—casting shadows that sway with the rhythm of the fire.

To your left, the gentle bubbling of a hot tub catches your attention.

Steam rises from its surface, curling into the night air in lazy spirals, before dissolving into the cool breeze. It’s nestled into a private nook, bordered by sculpted planters. Small lanterns are tucked among the foliage, creating halos of warmth—a secluded sanctuary.

To your right, the deck stretches out toward an infinity pool that gleams like liquid glass under the fairy lights.

The water ripples faintly, mirroring the twinkling canopy above the deep indigo sky. And as the pool’s edge vanishes into the darkness, it blends seamlessly with the garden’s manicured hedges and flowerbeds.

But your gaze is inevitably drawn back to the center of the deck—to him.

Satoru.

Illuminated by the flickering firelight, you catch sight of him leaning casually against one of the polished beams—a picture of effortless elegance.

His white hair shimmers under the canopy lights, and beside him, sits a low coffee table. A bottle of champagne rests on the surface, nestled in an ice bucket, and a tray of chocolate truffles lies alongside it, arranged with deliberate care.

With one hand tucked in his pocket, his posture is relaxed—exuding that effortless air of confidence. His other hand cradles a champagne flute, dangling it delicately between his fingers.

Then, as you meet his gaze, his lips tug up into that faint lopsided smile—the one that always seems to hold a thousand meanings—none of which he’ll ever fully explain.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “Took ya long enough.”

The hand in his pocket moves toward the champagne—his fingers brushing the neck of the bottle with an idle, almost careless grace. Tilting his head slightly, his eyes catch the light while his smile deepens.

“Was starting to think you got lost.”

The familiar humor in his tone pulls a soft laugh from your lips, but it’s the look in his eyes that makes your breath hitch—soft, unguarded, and entirely yours.

As you step forward, your feet brush against the soft petals, scattered across the deck.

“What’s all this, Satoru?”

His eyes soften, though the playful curve of his grin doesn’t waver. With a smooth motion, he uncorks the champagne—the quiet pop breaking the stillness.

“Mmm… just something you deserve.”

Pouring the champagne into both glasses, his eyes flick up to meet yours, a playful glint sparking in their depths.

“Lately, you’ve been carrying the world on your shoulders. Tonight… let me take a little of that weight.”

You blink, his words settling heavily in your chest as he steps closer, holding the glass out to you. As you take the glass from him, your fingers brush his briefly, and the simple touch sends a shiver skimming across your skin.

“You… didn’t have to do all this.”

His expression softens further, and his free hand reaches for yours—a touch warm and steady as your fingers gently intertwine.

“I know… but I wanted to. You’ve had a hell of a day, sweetheart. You deserve something special.”

Your lips part as if to respond, but the words catch in your throat—stolen by the sincerity in his voice and the way his thumbs brush softly over your knuckles. His gaze makes it impossible to think, let alone speak.

Tilting his head slightly, his grin widens, and that spark of playfulness returns to his expression.

“C’mon now,” he murmurs, a soft drawl, “are you gonna let me spoil you? Or are you planning to argue with me all night?”

A quiet laugh escapes you—breaking through the lump in your throat as you shake your head lightly, bringing the champagne glass to your lips.

“Oh, I don’t know… arguing with you is kind of my favorite pastime…”

His brows lift, amusement flickering across his face as he leans just slightly closer.

“Oh, is that so? Well, sweetheart, I hate to break it to ya, but you’re not winning this one.”

“Fine,” you sigh, smiling. “But… only because you’re impossible to argue with when you look at me like that.”

His grin deepens, a flicker of triumph lighting his expression as he gives your hand a gentle squeeze.

“Smart choice,” he winks, tilting his head toward the seating area. “Now, c’mon. Let’s sit.”

Leading you towards the fire pit, the moment you both reach the couch, he releases your hand—gesturing with a playful flourish.

“After you, princess.”

Rolling your eyes, you sink into the cushions. The heat from the firepit warms your skin as he settles beside you, close enough that your knees subtly brush.

For a moment, the world feels smaller—just the two of you, the crackle of the fire, and the faint hum of the night. Sipping your champagne, the bubbles fiz gently on your tongue as you glance sideways at him.

He leans back, draping one arm along the back of the couch, his posture relaxed but his eyes focused solely on you.

“So…” he starts, voice softer now, “I think Haru was warming up to me today. Did you see the way she handed me her Pikachu like it was a peace offering?”

A soft laugh escapes you, and you nod, relaxing further into the cushions as the warmth of the fire wraps around you.

“I did. Pikachu is her most prized possession, you know… she doesn’t hand him over lightly.”

Satoru raises a brow, his grin widening with unmistakable pride as he leans forward to grab a truffle from the platter.

“Ahhh, so I’ve officially been accepted into her inner circle?” He pops it into his mouth, chewing slowly before pointing a playful finger at you. “That’s a big deal, right?”

“Oh, it’s huge,” you tease lightly, swirling your glass as you watch him. “Haru doesn’t trust just anyone with Pikachu. You should consider yourself lucky.”

He chuckles, turning to fully face you now as he shifts his weight, resting his elbow on the back of the couch and propping his chin in his hand.

“I do. But now I’m wondering…” he pauses, his eyes widening dramatically with mock seriousness, “Oh god… have I peaked? What comes after Pikachu? Do I get a spot on her bedtime story roster?”

You laugh softly, shaking your head as you lean forward to grab your own truffle, popping it into your mouth with an exaggerated chew.

Swallowing, you mirror his position, your elbow resting against the back of the couch as your fingers absentmindedly toy with the edge of your glass.

“Nonsense, you’re already on it. Didn’t you notice the way she was sneaking glances at you during her book tonight? She was practically daring you to jump in.”

His brow arches in surprise, and his grin softens as he watches you, lingering as though memorizing the curve of your smile.

“Really?” he murmurs, sighing softly, “Damn… missed my chance. I guess next time, I’m doing all the voices for her.”

You share a quiet laugh, and the sound seems to stretch between you, filling the space with a lightness that feels almost fragile. The firelight dances across his face, painting shadows that soften the sharp angles of his features and highlight the lopsided curve of his smile.

As he shifts closer, the fabric of the couch creaks softly, and his knee brushes against yours again, the subtle contact sending a quiet jolt through you. He settles directly next to you now, close enough that the warmth of his presence mingles with the heat of the fire.

For a beat, he just looks at you, his expression unguarded, the teasing edge in his smile replaced by something deeper. The crackle of the fire fills the quiet space between you, and his voice dips lower, softer.

“You know… I think the real challenge isn’t winning over Haru though. It’s keeping up with you.”

You raise an eyebrow, but the weight of his gaze makes your chest tighten, a warmth spreading through you. A shy smile tugs at your lips, and you lower your eyes briefly before meeting his again.

“Oh, stop it…” you murmur, edged with a breathy laugh. “You’re keeping up just fine.”

Tilting his head slightly, he studies you, the firelight casting golden highlights across his face. As his grin softens, the shift in his expression draws you in, your pulse thrumming faintly in your ears.

“I don’t know about that…” he murmurs. “You set the bar pretty high. You’re… really amazing with her, you know that?”

The sincerity in his tone disarms you, stealing the words from your tongue. Glancing down at your glass, your fingers trace the delicate stem in a deliberate motion now.

But the quiet heat of his gaze pulls you back. It always does.

“You make it look so easy,” he continues, quieter now. “The way you handle everything—it’s like… second nature to you.”

You shrug lightly, though the weight of his words stirs something deep within you, curling around the parts of you that often feel worn and stretched too thin.

Exhaling slowly, a faint smile flickers across your lips.

“It’s just… what you do when you’re a parent. You just… figure it out as you go, I guess.”

He watches you for a moment longer, and then his lips curve into a small, lopsided smile.

Lifting his champagne to his lips, he takes a slow sip, his eyes never leaving yours as he leans back slightly.

“Well…” he says, his eyebrows raising as he sets the glass down on the table. “I’m figuring out that bribery works. Waffles for the win, huh? Glad she let me in today. Even if I had to work for it.”

Your laugh comes easily, shaking your head as you set your own glass aside.

“Come on now. It wasn’t just the waffles,” you counter, meeting his gaze fully now. “You’re good with her, Satoru. She sees that. And so do I.”

His grin falters slightly, softening into something quieter, more vulnerable. The playful edge that feels so naturally him gives way to an expression so raw and genuine it almost takes your breath away.

Shifting again, he leans just a little closer, tilting his head as his eyes search yours.

“You… really think so?” he whispers, a quiet thread of uncertainty lacing his tone.

Your chest tightens at the openness in his expression, the way he’s looking at you as though your answer means everything.

Slowly, you reach out, your fingers brushing lightly against his hand as you offer him a small, reassuring smile.

“I know so.”

Your fingers move slowly, languidly against the back of his hand, both deliberate and tender, and he responds with his own subtle movement, interlacing his fingers with yours.

“She doesn’t warm up to people easily, but with you…” you pause, searching his gaze as the firelight casts golden reflections in the depths of his eyes, “I think… she feels safe.”

He exhales softly, his gaze dropping briefly to your joined hands, his thumb brushing against your skin in a slow, thoughtful motion. The quiet crackle of the fire fills the space between you before he finally speaks.

“That’s all I want,” he murmurs, and as he looks back up at you, his expression is raw with sincerity. “For her to feel safe… for both of you to feel safe.”

His words settle over you like a weight, soft but heavy, pulling your thoughts to a place you’ve tried to avoid. The sharp edges of Naoya’s threats resurface—the dangers of the yakuza.

Satoru’s gaze sharpens instantly, as if he can sense the shift, the way your fingers falter against his. His grip tightens slightly, grounding you before the spiral can take hold.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his tone low and steady, pulling your focus back to him. “She’s going to be okay, you know. Haru. She’s got you.” He pauses, his eyes softening as a faint smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “And… she’s got me too.”

The sincerity in his voice pulls at the tight knot in your chest, loosening it just enough to let a quiet breath escape. His hand squeezes yours, gentle but firm, and the steadiness of his presence wraps around you like the fire’s warmth.

“C’mon,” he adds, his tone lightening, playful now, “no worrying tonight, alright? Just… let me take care of you for once. Relax. Let me spoil you.”

The corners of your mouth lift despite yourself, and your gaze shifts toward the bubbling water of the jacuzzi in the corner of the deck, steam curling into the night air like an invitation.

“Well…” your voice lilts teasingly as your eyes flick back to his, “I was eyeing that jacuzzi…”

His grin widens instantly, the familiar spark of mischief returning to his expression.

“Oh, were you now?” he drawls, already standing and tugging you gently to your feet. “Guess I better make good on my promise to spoil you, then.”

Leading you to the edge of the jacuzzi, the bubbling water shimmers under the soft glow of the fairy lights, and the quiet hum of the jets fill the space between you.

But as soon as he releases your hand, his attention shifts to the buttons of his shirt. With deliberate, unhurried movements, he pops the first one open, instantly drawing your gaze like a magnet.

You blink, your breath hitching as his shirt falls open—the fabric slipping off his shoulders, pooling at his feet to reveal the smooth, toned planes of his chest. The firelight catches the lean lines of his frame and the faint gleam of his skin.

Tossing his shirt casually onto a nearby lounge chair, his grin turns devilish as his eyes meet yours.

“What?” he teases, entirely too smug. “Figured I’d lead by example.”

For a moment, he stands there, utterly composed, as though he knows exactly the effect he’s having on you. Which, of course, he does. The subtle curve of his lips, the relaxed angle of his stance—everything about him radiates confidence.

You huff softly, though the heat rising in your cheeks betrays you, and as your gaze flickers to the water, you shuffle slightly—nerves fluttering in your stomach.

Bathing suits hadn’t even crossed your mind tonight, let alone his, and now… now you’re standing there, knowing what comes next but feeling completely unprepared for it.

The thought of stripping down in front of him? Oh god… it makes your stomach flutter with anticipation.

“I-I…” you stammer, biting your lip as your fingers fidget with the hem of your shirt. “Um… I wasn’t exactly prepared for this…”

His grin softens, though his playful tone remains.

“What, nervous? It’s just me.” He gestures toward the jacuzzi with a slight tilt of his head. “C’mon, your turn. Unless you’re planning on soaking fully clothed?”

Your lips part to protest, but the words catch in your throat. The warmth creeping down your neck has your pulse thrumming, and you quickly avert your gaze.

“Turn around…” you mutter finally, barely meeting his eyes.

He chuckles, low and warm

“Really? After everything?”

But as you give him a pointed look, his amusement softens into something gentler.

“Alright, alright...” he turns with a mock sigh, hands raised in exaggerated surrender. “I’ll behave.”

True to his word, he faces the firepit, though you catch the playful tilt of his head as he calls over his shoulder, “Just don’t take too long. I’ll be claiming the best spot for myself if you do.”

Rolling your eyes, the faintest laugh escapes your lips despite your nerves. But as soon as you hear the soft clink of his belt buckle, your heart leaps, and you quickly turn your focus to your own clothes.

Your shirt comes off first, followed by the rest, peeling them off piece by piece. But for a moment, your fingers linger at the clasp of your bra, and your gaze flickers to his back, broad and steady in the firelight.

Oh god… should you?

Before sitting on the thought for too long, on a whim, you unhook it—slipping it off and setting it down with the rest of your clothes. The cool air kisses your bare skin, and you cross your arms instinctively over your chest, feeling exposed yet exhilarated.

Left only in your panties, you step toward the edge of the jacuzzi, the steam curling against your skin like a whispered invitation.

As you dip a tentative foot in the water, behind you, Satoru shifts slightly. He’s stripped down to his boxers—an easy confidence radiating even as he waits.

“You okay back there?” he calls, light and teasing. “Not chickening out on me, are you?”

“I-I’m fine,” you reply quickly, the quiver in your voice betraying you. “Just… wait.”

Slowly, you sink into the bubbling water, the warmth melting away your nerves as the jets hum softly against your skin. The water laps at your shoulders as you settle into a corner, your gaze flickering to him nervously.

“Okay… you can look now.”

Satoru turns, his gaze sweeping over you briefly, a triumphant grin curling upon his lips before he steps into the jacuzzi. His broad frame settles into the water with a quiet sigh, and the firelight dances along the droplets clinging to his skin.

Sliding into the spot beside you, he stretches his long arms along the edges of the tub while he sinks back, but there’s a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he stares at you, one that instantly puts you on guard.

“What…?” you glance at him sideways, raising an eyebrow. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Oh, nothing,” he drawls, his smirk widening into a full grin. “Just wondering how I got so lucky to share a jacuzzi with such esteemed company.”

Rolling your eyes, you exhale with amusement.

“You’re ridiculous,” you mutter.

“Mm, so I’ve been told,” he quips.

As he leans his head back against the edge of the jacuzzi, the firelight casts golden highlights across the sharp angles of his face. Tilting his head slightly, he lets out a theatrical sigh.

“Well, well… look at you, finally relaxing. Didn’t think I’d ever see the day.”

Your smile softens as you close your eyes briefly, letting the warmth of the water and his teasing words melt away all the lingering tension in your chest.

“Well, the hot tub helps,” you admit, glancing at him again. “Gotta say, this was a good idea.”

The water ripples softly between you as he shifts, leaning closer—his arm sliding along the edge behind you. The proximity makes your pulse stir faintly, though you try not to let it show.

“I’ll take partial credit for that,” his grin widens, triumphant and full of mischief. “After all, this was my idea.”

“Your idea to spoil me, you mean,” you counter, raising an eyebrow. “My idea for the hot tub.”

Satoru hums thoughtfully, tilting his head toward you, feigning consideration.

“Technically,” he begins, holding up a finger, “Who was it that brought you out here, hmm? The petals? The champagne? The fire? You wouldn’t even be in this hot tub if it weren’t for my setup. So, really, it’s all connected to me.”

You scoff, though the laughter bubbling up in your throat betrays you.

“Oh, is that how it works now? You’re just taking full credit for everything?”

“Not taking full credit,” he corrects. “Just… connecting the dots. It’s a chain of events, sweetheart. Genius-level planning, if I do say so myself.”

Shaking your head, you laugh as the water ripples softly around you.

“Careful, Satoru. Your ego’s showing.”

“My ego? Sweetheart, this isn’t ego—it’s confidence.”

“Oh, my god,” you laugh, sending a playful splash of water his way. “You’re absolutely impossible.”

He gasps dramatically, clutching his chest in mock outrage.

“Did you just assault me? In my own jacuzzi? The audacity.”

“Your jacuzzi?” you tease, arching a brow. “Pretty sure it’s our jacuzzi now, buddy.”

“Oho, is that right?” he murmurs, grin widening into something sly. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’re the one trespassing.”

Before you can retort, his hand dips into the water, sending a small wave your way in retaliation. The warm splash catches you off guard, and you let out a startled laugh, lifting your arms defensively to shield yourself, but careful not to expose your chest.

“Satoru!” you protest, but he’s already closing the distance between you, the playful challenge in his eyes unmistakable.

“You started it,” he teases.

Moving closer with a daring glint, his knee brushes against yours beneath the water. The contact is subtle, but it sends a ripple of warmth through you.

��Satoru…” you warn again, lacking any real bite.

Pressing closer, his arm comes to rest along the edge of the tub behind you, caging you in with a mix of ease and intention. The bubbling water hums softly against your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat radiating from him now.

Your pulse quickens and you press your back slightly against the edge. His proximity suddenly becomes overwhelming as he brings his face mere inches from your own.

“Hmm?” his head tilts slightly and the damp strands of his hair fall just over his brow.

Your lips part as his gaze drops briefly—tracing the soft flush in your cheeks and lingering on the delicate curve of your lips—before returning to your eyes.

Suddenly, you feel his hand move beneath the water, brushing lightly against your thigh in a way that feels far too casual to be accidental.

“Something wrong princess?” he murmurs, low, velvety smooth.

Your breath hitches, your throat tightening under the weight of his gaze. The bubbling water ripples softly as you shift, your cheeks burning.

“N-no… nothing’s wrong…”

For a beat, he doesn’t move—his face close enough that you can feel the faint warmth of his breath mingling with the rising steam. His smirk softens slightly, and his eyes darken with something deeper—the tension in the air almost tangible.

Then, as his gaze dips once more, for a moment, you swear he’s about to close the distance entirely—to capture your lips in a kiss that would leave you utterly breathless. But just as quickly, he seems to catch himself.

Pulling back ever so slightly, his jaw clenches faintly and his eyes flicker with restraint.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he sighs, the teasing lilt returning to his tone as he settles into his seat beside you. “I was just enjoying the view.”

Swallowing hard, the tension still hums through your veins as you glance away briefly, focusing on the way the steam curls into the cool night air.

Breaking the silence, his voice is softer this time as he murmurs,

“Speaking of amazing views… look at that.”

Tilting his chin up at the sky, you follow his gaze, your eyes drawn to the endless expanse of stars glittering against the inky blackness. Lifting his hand, water drips from his fingers as he gestures upward.

“See that there?” he murmurs. “That’s Orion. You can tell by the three stars in the middle—Orion’s Belt.”

Your eyes flicker to him, and a boyish smile spreads across his lips as he continues.

“Orion was this great hunter in Greek mythology. A giant, actually. Depending on the version you hear, he was either killed by a jealous goddess or a scorpion—hence why Scorpius, the constellation, is always opposite him in the sky.”

Leaning forward slightly, you trace the constellation with your gaze.

“I… never knew that,” you admit softly.

Shifting again, he leans closer to you. His hand lifts up again—this time pointing to a different part of the sky.

“And there… that’s Cassiopeia. It’s shaped like a ‘W.’ She was a queen, but apparently, she bragged a little too much about how beautiful she and her daughter were. The gods didn’t like that, so they stuck her up there—forced to sit upside-down half the time as punishment.”

You can’t help but laugh quietly at the irony.

“A queen with a bit of an ego, huh? Sounds like someone I know.”

His eyes flick back to yours, his grin widening.

“Hey, if the gods want to immortalize me for my confidence, I wouldn’t say no. But I’d at least negotiate for better seating arrangements.”

Shaking your head, you smile.

“Of course, you would.”

A low chuckle slips through his lips, and as his gaze lingers up again, you catch sight of the shimmer of stars reflecting in his eyes.

“But… you’ve got to admit, she’s got a better view than most.”

His expression softens as he looks back at you—fingers brushing absently along the edge of the hot tub.

“It’s kind of funny, though. These stories… they’ve been passed down for centuries, and they’re still here. Still lighting up the sky.”

The wistfulness in his voice catches your attention as you hold his gaze—a small smile tugging at your lips.

“You really know a lot about this. I didn’t know you were into constellations.”

He smirks faintly, his voice taking on a playful air again.

“What, you think I’m just a pretty face?”

Rolling your eyes, you laugh softly, but the quiet vulnerability lingering in his expression doesn’t escape you.

“Well now… I didn’t say that.”

Leaning back slightly, the bubbling water hums softly against your skin as he looks up at the stars again—his expression becoming retrospective.

“Truth is…” he starts, voice dipping lower, “I used to sneak out on my balcony when I was a kid. We had this old telescope, probably the only thoughtful gift my dad ever gave me, and I’d spend hours just… staring at the stars. Learning their names, their stories.”

Tilting your head slightly, the quiet shift in his tone sparks your curiosity.

“Why the stars?” you ask softly.

He exhales a quiet laugh, though it’s laced with the weight of something long buried—devoid of any true humor.

“Because… they didn’t expect anything from me,” he admits, gaze fixed on the constellations above. “Looking at the stars…. made everything feel smaller. They didn’t care about who I was supposed to be or what I was supposed to accomplish. Up there… it was just space. Quiet. Endless.”

“So… the reminder of something bigger was an escape for you?”

Glancing at you, a small, almost sheepish smile tugs at his lips.

“Maybe. I guess I’ve always been drawn to the idea of infinity… something that can’t be controlled or contained.”

As his words linger, you can’t help but think of how beautifully they echo the person he is now—brilliant, unpredictable, and endlessly complex.

“Well… I never would’ve guessed,” you murmur, your gaze flickering upward to the stars he’d named for you. “But… it also makes sense. You’re always reaching for something bigger, aren’t you?”

His smile softens, a flicker of vulnerability slipping through as he admits,

“Yeah… guess I can’t help myself.”

Nodding quietly, the bubbling water hums between you as a comfortable silence stretches—charged with something unspoken.

You glance at him, and his profile is softened by the fairy lights—the damp strands of his hair curling against his skin, wet droplets sliding along the line of his jaw.

“Do you still?” the question slips out before you can stop yourself. “Look at the stars, I mean.”

Scratching the back of his head, a wry smile tugs at his lips.

“Mmm… not as often as I used to. Life gets in the way, you know?”

Another quiet pause lingers between you, and your heart aches at the tenderness in his expression—the bittersweet look in his eyes.

For all his teasing confidence and easy smiles, there’s something almost fragile in the way he speaks about this, as if the memory of that boy stargazing on a balcony still lingers—a deeper part within him.

It’s almost unbearable, the way he seems both so close and so far away in this moment, and all you can think about is the need to close that distance. The desire to touch him, to draw him back into the present—it becomes impossible to ignore.

Slowly, your hand moves, almost on its own, your fingers brushing lightly against his arm beneath the water. He looks at you, a flicker of surprise at first, but it softens, quickly giving way to warmth.

“You should,” you whisper. “If it makes you feel that way… then you should make time for it.”

Your fingers trail absently against his arm, the gentle movement sending ripples through the water, and your gaze drops to the curve of his lips before meeting his eyes again.

“Yeah, well…” his voice drops as he shifts closer to you in the water, “now I’ve got something even better to escape to.”

Moving beneath the water, his hand brushes lightly against your thigh—a touch that pulls at something deep within you—soft, deliberate, yet somehow still electric.

“And… it’s not up there.”

As his hand shifts, trailing lightly up your hip, your heart races. His touch urges you to close the distance—pulling you steadily like gravity itself.

Without thinking, your fingers glide up his arm, lifting to his cheek. You brush away a stray droplet of water from his jaw, and his eyes flutter shut briefly at the touch—a soft exhale escaping his lips.

Your breath hitches, and as his eyes slowly open again, they’re filled with something raw and unguarded—a depth that steals your breath away.

Lifting his own hand, it comes up to cover yours, holding it there for a moment as he leans into your touch. And then, slowly, he turns his head, pressing a soft kiss to your palm—so gentle, so reverent, it leaves your chest aching, aching for more.

Your fingers slide further, lacing between the damp locks of his silky hair, and he shifts, leaning in just slightly until his lips ghost yours.

The warmth of his breath mingling with yours is enough to unravel you, and slowly, tentatively, you brush your lips against his—a featherlight touch that sends a spark of pleasure down your spine.

Instinctively, he leans in, deepening the kiss, and his hand slides to the small of your back—steadying you as the water begins to ripple softly around you.

But it’s the faint rasp of his breath that draws you in further. Your own hands move, sliding from his hair to his shoulders, your fingertips tracing the contours of his damp skin.

Suddenly, his lips part slightly—inviting you to explore more.

And the moment his tongue brushes softly against your bottom lip, it flares into something else—the kiss shifts, no longer soft and tentative, but filled with a hunger that neither of you can seem to deny.

Your hands find their way to his chest, and you feel his heartbeat against your palm, strong and steady as he hums in your mouth, breathy moans through each movement of his lips.

Without thinking, you shift in the water. The bubbling warmth ripples against your skin as you move closer—settling your legs on both sides of him, straddling his lap as you press your chest against his.

Everything stills.

His breath stutters, his lips faltering against yours for the briefest second. His eyes flicker open to meet yours, and you see the exact moment it clicks—the moment he feels your bare chest. Freezing slightly, his hands grip your waist with just enough pressure to ground himself.

“You’re not…” he starts, voice hoarse as his gaze dips, taking in the bare skin of your shoulders, the way the water laps teasingly against the curve of your chest.

His throat bobs, swallowing hard, and when his eyes snap back to yours, they’re darkened with desire—flickering with a restraint that’s fraying at the edges.

“Fucking hell…” he mutters under his breath, exhaling heavily as his head tilts back slightly. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

The rough, almost reverent sound of his admission sends a shiver racing through you, emboldening you, and leaning forward, your lips graze the exposed line of his neck.

Groaning softly at the contact, his hands tighten their grip on your hips as you trail tender, deliberate kisses along his skin. Your chest presses closer to him, molding against his as one of your hands slides up to cup his jaw, keeping his head tilted back for your exploration.

“S-shit,” he breathes unsteadily—a quiet, guttural moan escaping him as you brush the base of his throat.

A jolt of heat rushes through you as his hands shift lower, smoothing over the curve of your ass—kneading the flesh as if he can’t help himself.

Instinctively, you shift in his lap, but the moment you feel the firm, unmistakable hardness of his cock pressing against you, a moan slips past your lips—your kisses faltering against his skin.

Your thighs immediately tighten around him, and something snaps in him. A low, desperate groan tears from his throat, and his hands slide back up to your waist—guiding you against him with an increasing boldness.

“God, you’re driving me fucking crazy,” he rasps, thick with desire. “Do you even realize what you do to me? How badly I want you?”

Pulling back to meet his eyes, your breath hitches at the unfiltered need blazing in his gaze.

“Maybe…” your fingers tangle in his damp hair, pulling him closer until your lips hover just above his. “…but why don’t you tell me Satoru?”

His breath stutters, the tension between you crackling like electricity.

“Oh, sweetheart… you’re dangerous,” he mutters, low and wrecked, brushing against your lips with every breath. “Dangerous, and so fucking tempting…”

His mouth crashes against yours, urgent and consuming, his restraint dissolving as his tongue slides against yours with a fervent desperation. You whimper softly into his mouth, your fingers tightening in his hair as your hips continue to shift instinctively against his cock.

Every movement is amplified by the bubbling water, ripping against your skin as his lips claim yours over and over again, but it’s his hands—wandering and deliberate—that make your cunt quiver.

They’re everywhere—sliding up your back, tracing your waist and gliding up to your chest. His palms cup the soft curve of your breast, and when his thumbs roll over the hardened peaks of your nipples, a soft, muffled cry spills from your lips.

Oh, your sound undoes him.

His hips buck up reflexively, grinding his rigid length against your core with a desperation that suddenly sends the water churning around you.

“Fuck… shit—I’m so fucking hard for you,” he groans against your lips, trembling with want. “Baby, I can’t—can’t fucking get enough of you.”

Biting your lip, your hands slide from his hair to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin, gasping against his lips while his cock rolls underneath you.

“Been wanting you for so fucking long…” he grunts, dropping his head to drag his lips down your neck.

“Satoru…” you breathe, trembling against him as his tongue flicks against your skin, sucking the sensitive hollow above your collarbone.

“You don’t even fucking know,” he mutters, gripping you with a bruising intensity. “I stood outside our bathroom door…” he rasps, punctuated with another thrust. “…listening to the water, imagining you in there, naked and soaked. Fuck, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

His lips trail up, grazing your ear as his hands drop lower, gripping the curve of your ass and pressing you flush against his throbbing cock.

“Had to touch myself,” he groans, “my hand wrapped around my cock… thinking about pressing you against that tile. F-Fuck… about how fucking tight you’d feel around me.”

A strangled whimper slips from your lips, the filthy image his words paint setting your body on fire.

“God, baby…” he rasps, his lips ghosting along your jawline as his hands guide your hips in perfect rhythm against his. “I came so fucking hard just thinking about you, sweetheart. Fucking my own hand. Thinking about being inside you… stretching your perfect little pussy, making you mine.”

But then something shifts.

His breath stutters against your skin, and suddenly his hands still on your hips. His body is trembling, his head dropping to your shoulder as a low, guttural sound escapes him—half frustration, half restraint.

“Shit…” he mutters, his voice breaking as he shifts beneath you.

Before you can process, his hands grip your waist firmly, guiding you as he adjusts your position, spinning you gently until your back presses against the curved edge of the hot tub.

He cages you there, his arms braced on either side of you, his body hovering so close that the heat radiates between you. For a moment, his head drops, his forehead pressing against yours as he exhales shakily, the tension in his body almost unbearable.

“I can’t…” he starts, voice strained and wrecked. “I—fuck—I’m about to lose it, baby.”

He groans, low and rough, pulling back slightly as his hands slide to your waist—a grip firm but steadying.

“You said…” he mutters, voice softening, “…you said you wanted to take things slow. And it’s been one day, sweetheart. One fucking day, and I’m already losing my goddamn mind.”

His words hang in the air, raw and vulnerable, as his chest heaves with every labored breath. His eyes close briefly, as if trying to gather the strength to pull himself back from the edge.

“I want you so fucking bad,” he admits, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You don’t even know. But… I don’t… I don’t want to screw this up.”

“Hey…” you whisper, cupping his cheeks, your thumbs brushing gently against the rough edge of his jawline. “We’re figuring this out together.”

Leaning into your touch, his eyes slowly open as his breath fans against your face—letting the tension ebb just slightly.

“You’ve got to help me out here,” he murmurs, voice soft but laced with a thread of desperation. “What does ‘taking it slow’ even mean? Because right now… all I can think about is you, and it’s killing me, sweetheart.”

You hesitate for a moment, his question hanging in the air, and the way his eyes search yours—pleading, vulnerable—makes your chest tighten.

“Taking it slow… doesn’t mean I don’t want you, Satoru. I do. So much that it scares me a little...”

His eyes blink open wider, his expression softening as he absorbs your words.

“Scared?” he echoes. “Sweetheart… I’m fucking terrified. I’ve never wanted someone the way I want you. And that terrifies me because honestly, I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

His words settle between you like a confession, raw and unguarded, and for a moment, you’re both quiet—the bubbling water lapping gently against your skin as you process the weight of his admission.

With a quiet breath, your fingers brush along his forearm, sliding up to rest lightly against his chest.

“I… don’t want to lose you either,” your voice trembles slightly as you peel back a layer of your own walls. “Satoru… you’re important to me. And maybe that’s why I want this to be different.”

His brows draw together slightly, a flicker of confusion crossing his face as he tilts his head in question.

“Different… how?”

Biting your lip, your gaze drops momentarily to the rippling water as you gather the courage—trying to find the words.

"Different because… it feels like, for once, I’m not rushing into something just to fill a void. I want to savor this… savor you. I’ve never had the chance to do that before."

His gaze softens further, and the vibrant blue of his eyes darkens under the pale glow of moonlight. You allow the steady warmth of his thumbs brushing absentminded circles against your waist, to keep you grounded—letting the words spill out, your own quiet confession.

"I guess… for once… I… want to enjoy every moment of falling for someone instead of wondering when it’s going to fall apart.”

Satoru pulls you closer, his eyes holding your gaze with a quiet tenderness. Then, after a beat, his lips quirk into a soft, lopsided grin, one that makes something flutter in your chest.

“Well shit,” he exhales, a playful edge creeping into his voice. “I think you like me.”

The unexpected shift in tone catches you off guard, and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up, light and genuine, shaking your head at his ridiculousness.

“Oh, you think?” you tease, rolling your eyes at him.

“I meeean…” he drawls, his teasing grin widening. “All this talk about savoring me? Falling for me? Sounds like you’re pretty smitten, sweetheart.”

Your laugh turns into a wry smile as you shake your head, nudging him lightly.

“Okay, fine. I like you. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” he replies smoothly, his grin turning downright triumphant.

As his face softens slightly, he leans forward, brushing the tip of his nose against yours as he murmurs, “You know… I’ve never really had that either.”

“Yeah?” you ask gently, your fingers moving without thought, brushing against the damp strands of his hair.

He nods, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“I’ve always moved fast, maybe because I didn’t want to feel… too much,” he admits, his tone quieter now.

Tilting your head, your fingers brush along the sharp line of his jaw, encouraging him to go on.

“What’s different now?” you ask softly, the question slipping out before you can stop it.

“With you…” his hand comes up to cup your cheek, tracing a slow, deliberate line. “It’s like… I want to feel everything. Every single moment.”

Your breath hitches at his words, and he leans in closer, lips hovering just above yours. The heat radiating off him mingles with the steam curling around you.

“Hmmm,” you murmur, grinning as you playfully nudge your nose against his. “Well… I think you like me too, Satoru Gojo.”

His brows shoot up in mock indignation, and he huffs out a laugh, his hands tightening slightly on your waist.

“Oh, you think you’re clever, huh?”

Before you can respond, his mouth crashes against yours, cutting off your laugh with a kiss so consuming it makes your head spin. Pulling you flush against him, his lips move in a fervent desperation—his teeth capturing your bottom lip, his tongue stroking against yours in a heated dance.

You gasp softly in his mouth as your hands wrap around him, the bubbling water lapping against you as his hands explore once again—sliding to your breasts, twirling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

A soft whimper escapes you, and he hums in your mouth—pleased and unrestrained—but just as you feel yourself melting completely into him, surrendering to the pull of his touch and the weight of his kiss, he pulls back.

His gaze is heavy-lidded and dark, his pupils blown wide with desire. Yet there’s something maddeningly smug about the way he’s looking at you, his lips curling into a slow, insufferably cocky grin.

“Hmm…” he hums thoughtfully, brushing his thumb against your swollen bottom lip, eyes gleaming with mischief. “I quite enjoy getting you worked up.”

Your cheeks burn as your eyes narrow, and for a moment, you’re too stunned to fire back. He takes full advantage, leaning in close, his lips grazing the shell of your ear as he whispers,

“If you want to take it slow, sweetheart, that’s fine. But I’m turning it into my own personal game.”

You blink, his words swirling in your mind as the heat of his lips shifts to the curve of your neck—pressing open-mouthed kisses against your damp skin. Tipping your head back involuntarily, his lips blaze a trail along your collarbone.

“A game?” you manage, breathlessly.

“Mhmm,” his lips ghost along the line of your jaw. “And I’ll have you begging for me by the end of it. Count on it.”

His voice is dark—rich with confidence and something wickedly seductive, and the heat of his promise sends a jolt of need shooting through you. When he finally pulls back, his insufferably cocky grin is enough to make you want to throttle him—and kiss him senseless all over again.

It’s infuriating. It’s intoxicating. It’s Satoru.

With an exaggerated sigh, he settles beside you in the hot tub, the bubbling water rippling against his toned chest as he leans against the curved edge. He’s infuriatingly casual, the image of smug satisfaction as he reaches for his champagne flute resting on the side of the tub.

Taking a slow, deliberate sip, he casts you a sideways glance, his grin widening when he catches the heat in your gaze still lingering.

“What?” he asks innocently. “You look like you’ve got something to say, sweetheart.”

With a pointed look, you roll your eyes—settling beside him.

“Oh, nothing,” you exhale with a smirk, mirroring his casual tone as you reach for your own glass. “I’m just thinking about how funny it’ll be when this little ‘game’ of yours backfires Mr. Gojo.”

His grin widens in amusement as he leans back further against the jets—an arm draping along the edge of the tub behind you.

“We’ll see about that,” he murmurs, lifting a brow and clinking his glass against yours.

But then, his gaze shifts, flicking just past you toward the estate’s edge.

At first, his expression doesn’t change, his teasing grin frozen in place—but as his eyes narrow slightly, for a fleeting moment, his jaw tightens.

“Satoru?” you ask, tilting your head as you take another sip of champagne. “You okay?”

He blinks, his gaze snapping back to you, and his easy smile returns almost instantly.

“Hmm? Sorry, what was that?”

“You… zoned out,” your brow furrows slightly as you study him. “Something on your mind?”

“Oh… just strategizing my next move in our little game,” he says smoothly, his grin turning playful again, though his eyes flick briefly toward the edge of the estate once more. “Gotta keep you on your toes, sweetheart.”

Narrowing your eyes slightly, you sense there’s something he isn’t saying, but before you can press further, he shifts closer, his arm brushing yours as he leans in conspiratorially.

“Speaking of toes,” he murmurs, low and teasing, “I think we’ve spent enough time in here. Don’t want you turning into a prune on me.”

For a moment, you pause—considering whether you should push him further. But instead, you let out a soft sigh.

“Aww, man…” you pout playfully. “I was really enjoying this hot tub, too.”

Satoru’s smile softens, but there's a flicker of something protective in his eyes. He shifts closer, his arm brushing against yours as he gently leans in.

“Well… we can come back again. It is our hot tub, after all. Remember?”

Raising an eyebrow, a half-smile tugs at your lips. Despite the shift in the air, you nod, choosing not to press him.

“Right...” you mutter lightly, “our hot tub.”

Satoru stands, offering his hand to help you out of the water. Pulling you up gently, the cool night air kisses your skin as you step out—the warmth of the hot tub already fading.

He’s quick to wrap a towel over you—his hands gliding across your skin as he subtly dries you off. But the way his gaze flickers towards the trees again, leaves you slightly unsettled. Though, a moment later his smile returns—almost like he’s trying to shake something off.

“Let’s get inside,” he murmurs, carrying an edge that wasn't there before. “It’s getting late.”

As you follow him, you glance back briefly toward the estate’s edge, where the shadows of the trees sway gently in the wind.

But… whatever had drawn Satoru’s attention earlier remains a mystery, tucked away in the dark beyond the gates.

A mystery that perhaps… you’d rather not know the answer to.

ꨄ

The heavy thud of binoculars clatters against the wooden table—Toji slamming them down with a careless flick of his wrist. Catching a dim light, the lenses slide to a stop, and Toji pulls out a chair—leaning back while plopping his feet up.

"Almost blew my cover," he mutters, exhaling in annoyance. "Satoru's more perceptive than I gave him credit for."

Naoya’s eyes flicker toward the binoculars before his gaze settles back on Toji. His fingers drum impatiently on the table—a rhythm quick and sharp.

“What do you mean? He didn’t see you, did he?"

Toji waves a hand dismissively—unfazed, but calculating.

“Nah… didn’t actually spot me. But he kept looking in my direction. I could tell. It’s like he felt me there. That gut feeling, you know?”

“Of course,” Mei-Mei chimes in, smooth and tinged with affection.

Leaning back in her chair, a slow, fond smile curls upon her lips. She twirls her drink languidly in her glass—crossing one leg over the other.

“That’s Satoru for you, isn’t it? Always a step ahead of everyone. It’s honestly incredible how sharp he is.”

Sighing dramatically, she sets her glass down on the table with a soft, deliberate clink. Then, leaning forward, she props her elbow on the table, resting her chin in her hand.

"He always did have that uncanny ability,” she drawls, dripping with admiration. “It’s just another reason why he’s so... impressive."

Naoya rolls his eyes, his frustration building. His fingers tap a rapid rhythm on the table, betraying his growing impatience.

"Jesus, not this again,” he mutters. “Focus, Mei-Mei. We're here to deal with this situation, not to fawn over Gojo."

Mei-Mei flicks a quick glance toward Naoya, her smile widening just slightly. She runs a finger lazily along the rim of her glass.

“Oh, I am focused, darling,” she purrs, smooth and teasing. “Perhaps this means it’s time to speed things up.”

Shifting to Toji, her voice becomes more calculated—a quiet edge of authority seeping in.

“We’ve played around long enough. Naoya’s plan needs to be put in motion soon. Before Satoru gets… too comfortable.”

Toji chuckles darkly, low and mocking—a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Yeah… well… about that…” he pauses for a moment, glancing towards Naoya. "You sure your intel’s still solid ‘cuz?”

Naoya’s eyes narrow just slightly—his fingers stopping mid-tap on the table. There’s a shift in his posture, a subtle tightening around his jaw.

“What do you mean?”

Toji shrugs nonchalantly, the grin on his face widening.

“After what I saw tonight... I’m wondering if things are a bit more complicated than we thought."

Naoya’s brow furrows, confusion flickering for a moment, before irritation flares up again. He leans forward, his eyes locked onto Toji as his fingers tighten into a fist.

"What the hell are you talking about? What did you see?"

Toji’s smirk stretches—predatory and full of amusement.

“Saw the whole damn thing. They’re not just playing house. I watched them in the hot tub, and I’ll tell ya, that make-out session wasn’t for the cameras. Hell, they almost fucked right there, in front of me. I practically got a show.”

The room falls into an eerie silence. Mei Mei’s expression shifts, her interest piqued, though she masks it with a slight tilt of her head. Naoya’s face twists in frustration, his breathing shallow—the air around him thickening.

"No… no, that can’t be,” Naoya grits, the words slipping from clenched teeth. Leaning forward, his voice trembles with the weight of his disbelief. “She’s just a pawn—he’s using her. There’s no way he’d get attached to her."

Mei-Mei scoffs softly, laced with both frustration and longing. She sets her glass down delicately on the table—her eyes glinting an unsettling mixture of envy and disdain.

"Tch… I never understood why Satoru chose someone like her. He deserves someone who can match him, not... her."

Naoya’s anger erupts, boiling over into a loud, harsh growl. His eyes burn with fury as he slams his fist onto the table again, causing the wood to shudder under the force. His voice cracks with intensity, raw and full of rage.

“This wasn’t part of the plan!” he spits. “I’m not letting that bastard keep her!” His eyes flash with dark intent as he leans forward, hands clutching the edge of the table, knuckles turning white. “He won’t have control over her! I won’t let him.”

Mei-Mei raises an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth curling into a wider, almost cruel smirk as she watches Naoya’s outburst. The tension in her body relaxes, but only slightly, as she takes a slow, deliberate sip from her glass.

"Oh… you poor thing," she coos, dripping with sarcasm, "how cute. It looks like you really did lose your toy, didn’t you?”

Naoya’s glare sharpens, his face darkening with even more rage, but before he can snap back at her, Toji clears his throat—cutting through the tension like a knife.

“Alright, alright. Relax. Both of you.”

Leaning back in his chair, the smooth wood creaks beneath him as he stretches his legs out lazily, exhaling slowly through his nose. His expression shifts to one of cold calculation, his eyes locking onto Naoya with an almost imperceptible smirk.

“This just changes the plan, that’s all. No need to get all bent out of shape over it.”

Naoya’s eyes narrow further, the lines around his mouth deepening into a hard, angry frown.

“What do you mean, ‘changes the plan’?” he spits through clenched teeth.

Toji’s grin turns sharp—his tone dropping to something more dangerous

“Common now, ‘cuz… is your toy making you lose your edge?” he pauses, letting his taunt hang before continuing. “Think about it. To bring Satoru Gojo down, we’ve gotta go after what’s most important to him, right?”

The silence is thick—Naoya’s brow furrowing as the meaning of the statement slowly sinks in. His breath hitches slightly, his mind racing as the pieces fall into place.

“Before, we thought it was his precious reputation,” Toji continues, “—his image as the untouchable, perfect heir. But now…” he trails off, a malicious gleam in his eyes. “Now we’ve got a much bigger target.”

Naoya’s eyes narrow even further, a flicker of realization creeping into his expression as the truth starts to dawn on him. His hand moves to rub the back of his neck, the tension in his body building as he mutters under his breath,

“You’re saying… her?”

Toji’s smirk deepens, turning positively devilish as he leans forward.

“Bingo,” he mutters, a low chuckle escaping his lips. "Satoru’s attached to her, whether he wants to admit it or not. That’s the leverage we’ve been missing. Forget the public image—if we take y/n out of the equation, he’ll break. His whole world will collapse."

A tense silence falls over the room, everyone holding their breath as Toji’s words sink in. Then, after a moment, Mei-Mei hums softly—sweet but carrying an edge of approval.

“Well, well… not bad, Toji. I suppose jail didn’t take the fight out of you after all.”

Toji’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, the smirk on his lips fades, replaced by a cold, hard edge in his eyes.

“Jail didn’t make me soft. It just made me more… determined,” he growls—dripping with resentment. “The Gojo family—they think they can lock me up and forget about me? Tch… I’ve got a score to settle, and this... this is just the beginning.”

Naoya’s eyes flash with a bitter, twisted smirk—his frustration mixing with simmering excitement as he shifts forward in his seat.

“Great. We go after her. If Satoru thinks he’s got control over her, he’s in for a rude awakening.” His voice drops to a low growl as he mutters, “If I can’t have her… then no one can.”

Mei-Mei smiles serenely—cool and calculating.

“And after we destroy everything he cares about,” she murmurs, “Satoru will have no choice but to fall into my hands."

Toji leans back in his chair, folding his arms with grim satisfaction. His eyes flick between the two, the corners of his mouth curling into a slight smirk—one that speaks of cold, calculated victory.

“That’s right. Once she’s gone, Satoru’s nothing. And when he’s broken, we’ll take him down, piece by piece.”

a/n. oh wowee, hi guys. i wanna thank you all so much for your support with this fic. every kind comment really puts a smile on my face :') i know you all waited a bit longer than usual with this chapter, but thanks for your patience! life is kicking my ass lately, but i'm almost done with this school semester 😭 there's a lot going on in this chapter. the yakuza coming into play—satoru trying to connect more deliberately with haru—suguru joining the battle—and satoru and y/n exploring their new relationship together! a few of my favorite things to write this chapter: satoru and suguru interacting together. i just love their friendship in the canon story, so i always have fun writing it (without suguru going genocide crazy, lol). another scene that was my fav, was in the hot tub, where satoru is talking about the constellations 💕 and when satoru realized y/n didn't have her bra on 🤭 hehe. the scene where y/n is sitting in the study with both satoru and suguru... that scene was really tough to write... very emotional 🥺 if anyone has ever been in a position like y/n, don't hesitate to seek help. emotional manipulation and physical intimation is indeed a form of domestic abuse. i also had a lot of fun writing the last scene, with toji, naoya and mei-mei. it was a nice change up! fyi, ya'll will be getting a satoru pov chapter in the future (soon-ish?) huge thank you as always to my friend @strychnynegirl for helping me immensely with this chapter 🥰 she is literally incredible. anyways, hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and i hope you have an amazing thanksgiving 🫶🏻 much love! -aly💕 → onto the next chapter ꨄ

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