#EDIT IN THE TAGS: hi i think i worded this in a confusing way | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

digiflora · 11 days ago

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𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐘!

ꪆৎ choso ⸝⸝ sukuna ⸝⸝ gojo ⸝⸝ ino wc.

summary. life as a streamer creates all sorts of potential interactions- whether between other creatives, or just some random person in a csgo lobby...

contains! ꪆৎ streamer au ⸝⸝ cosplayer reader (choso) ⸝⸝ some suggestiveness + downbadness lmfao ⸝⸝ nerdjo my beloved

𐔌 gia's notes! ☆⌒(ゝ。∂) woioi chat. i've been on such a 2020 first lockdown nostalgic kick recently im ngl... hence the title of this fic LOL. and lowkey the content too 😞 you can kinda tell that i ran out of steam while writing this... but o well

streamer!choso [@/ch0k4m0] who is relatively well known- technically, for his gaming abilities, though what solidified his online fame was his rather candid commentary, with seemingly no filter between his thoughts and the words that come out of his mouth. that, and his looks which had broken the internet when he had face revealed, catapulting him from a fairly unknown but well loved streamer to regularly getting hundreds of thousands of views on his streams.

his current streams mostly consisted of him working his way through resident evil. viewers could expect to see a decent progression within each stream due to choso not being completely useless at playing the game, alongside his dumb comments diminishing the fear factor of the franchise ever so slightly. and of course, his ever so subtle crush on the character ada wong.

'chat oh my GOD i've never been so in love with some pixels before'

'ada baby please, just one chance. i know that i'm 3d and you're 2d but we'll make it work'

every time a cutscene of her plays, there's an absolute torrent of messages and donations teasing him for his poorly hidden crush, ones that choso takes the time to properly read through during his breaks in the stream. such an occasion happens now, with choso reading out some random comments when a new donation rings out, the text to speech voice that comes with it bearing a demand

'choso you need to look up this account RIGHT NOW and look at the video they just posted'

his brow furrows as he reads the username, deliberating on whether he should actually follow those instructions or if his viewer was just trying to mess with him. ultimately, he conceded to his chat's wishes and opened a new browser window, typing it in.

a mere few hours later after the stream, you found your notifications to be blowing up more than usual. you had posted a new cosplay video earlier today, but even then there was a little TOO many notifications to be your usual audience. you noticed that you had been tagged in an edit, inclining you to click on that before wading through the likes and comments. every time that you received one it was a special kind of joy, with the knowledge that someone enjoyed your cosplays enough to inspire them to make something. you hear the music begin to fade in once the edit loads, though the intro clip has you confused as you don't think that you've seen it before.

obviously, you recognise choso, the handsome and funny streamer who got really popular recently, and one that you have unfortunately joined many others in appointing as your resident e-crush. you weren't big on watching streams, but every time a clip of choso appears when you scroll, you can't help but watch the whole thing, partially for its entertainment value, and partially because of just how cute the guy looked on your phone screen.

so really, it was quite the surreal experience to hear your username fall from his lips as the clip plays on your phone, and you watch the edit in disbelief

'am i spelling this right, chat?'

'and the latest video, right- oh it's, holy fuck-"

the beat then kicks in. clips of your ada wong cosplay flashing across the screen, one final flashbang of choso's face as he watches your video with an almost comical expression of awe. you're left absolutely flabbergasted as the video begins to loop, clicking on the comments to see what the hell was going on

'get in damn line choso 😩'

'BROOOODJFNSJG I WAS WATCHING THE STREAM AND I JUST KNEWWWWW SOMEONE WAS GONNA MAKE AN EDIT WITH THAT CLIP 😭😭😭'

'the stream was like 2 hours ago this edit was so fast wtf'

'it should have been meeeeeee ughhh'

'the way choso scrolled thru her ENTIRE account and then followed her... that man's finally got a crush on a real personnnnn'

that last comment captures your attention specifically, and sure enough, you see his username amongst your many new followers. it pays to get noticed by a popular streamer, you suppose.

and then, to your utmost surprise, you also see his name pop up within your dm requests

@/ch0k4mo: sooo are you in need of a leon kennedy by any chance

the dm isn't exactly suave, but it has its intended effect as you blink at your screen as you process it, finally letting out a squeal of excitement, screenshotting the message shamelessly. your friends are not gonna believe this. and then, only after running laps around your room and waiting for your erratic heartrate to return to a normal tempo, you type out a shaky response.

@/yn: funny that you ask that, cos i had a few video ideas in mind ;)

you can only hope that on the other end of the line, choso is having a somewhat similar reaction to yours.

streamer!sukuna [@/kingkuna] who is notorious for causing chaos online, whether on fps games such as cs and valorant, or even on the more inane roblox games where he makes a living off of terrorising little kids. actions speak louder than words, though the streamer is quick to utilise both when instilling terror on whichever server has the misfortune of having him

'i do this for the love of the game, chat'

'well, that, and because bullying little runts is fun'

all of these actions, streamed live every wednesday and friday, helped to garner sukuna a rather.... distinct reputation.

despite being considered an asshole for all intents and purposes, sukuna had somehow amassed a following, all from his persona of being an online troll.

so this week's particular stream was especially shocking to his fans for all of the wrong reasons.

it started off like any other stream, sukuna casually reading off the odd message in his chat whilst preparing for the stream, retorting some snarky comment that has the chat getting more and more riled up, all with a shit-eating grin on his face.

it was more or less a love-hate relationship between him and his chat, though everyone seemed happy with the dynamic, expecting no less from the streamer.

this stream in particular was particularly anticipated, if the steadily increasing viewcount in the corner was anything to go off of, probably due to the fact that this wasn't quite like his other streams. despite the countless hours of his content, very little was known about sukuna, and as a 1 million subscriber goal, the man had acquiesced to people's demands for a q&a.

it started off as well as it could have, with rather generic questions rolling out. but of course, knowing sukuna's audience (and his lenient moderators), some raunchier ones started to worm their way through

'does it... jiggle when i walk? mods, get this clown out of here'

sukuna rattles through the questions, his fans clearly revelling in his embarrassing childhood stories, in the knowledge that his hair is not dyed, and how he views his streams as training to continue defeating his nephew in fortnite whenever they play together.

and then, finally, the fated question

'kingkuna i have to know for all the ladies out there... do u have a gf??'

it's a special donation message, one that rattles off loud and clear in a way that absolutely cannot be missed, though with the amount of time it takes for him to respond, he may as well have.

'hm, wouldn't you like to know?'

there's a torrent of outraged messages, before a deep booming laugh emits from the man.

'ehhh, i'm just fucking with you. of course i do, she's my forever girl.'

there's another torrent of messages in chat, though they're now oohing and ahhing at just how uncharacteristically sweet the streamer is being. his eyes flit over the incoming messages, his grin widening as his gaze lifts to somewhere beyond the webcam's reach.

there's a silent exchange, no words needed before sukuna reclines back in his chair, his legs spreading as he makes room for whoever's coming into frame.

'she's right here, too. everyone say hi to y/n'

and when she situates herself right on his lap and his arm wraps around her waist, the chat goes crazy. the streamer seems to remember his regular image, cackling at the desperate onslaught of messages eager to get even a morsel of information about the two of you, instead starting to click away at the preparations needed before he ends the stream

'oh would you look at the time, looks like i'll be having to end the stream now. see you suckers on wednesday'

'byeeeee!'

you can't help but chime in, giggling and waving right at the camera before the stream shuts off, and you feel sukuna begin to truly relax into his chair, shuffling you impossibly closer to his chest, hugging you to him and burying his face against you.

'aww, you big baby'

'dunno what you're talking about'

you giggle at your boyfriend's antics, though definitely used to them by now. instead, you get comfy, letting sukuna use you as his personal pillow as you card through his hair with one hand, the other unlocking your phone and you begin to scroll through twitter. #kingkuna1m was already trending thanks to the premise of his livestream, and you can't help but click on the tag, looking through some of the most recent tweets.

'never would i EVER have expected SUKUNA of all ppl to be relationship goals'

'praying on his downfall fr 🙏🙏🙏 he doesn't know how good he has it'

'he's so EVIL for ending the stream like that omfg'

'the way he looks at her IM SICKKKKK ☹️☹️☹️☹️'

that last one comes with a video, a hasty screen recording of those last few moments of the stream as you wave at the camera, though you're focusing on the shamelessly lovestruck expression on sukuna's face as he watches you. it's enough to have you giggling and kicking your feet right in his lap, and he grumbles, his spare hand catching onto your flailing ankle

'quit squirming, brat'

'but you're just so cute, kunaaa'

you show him your phone screen, and it's your turn to study his face as he looks at the video impassively, though he can't hide the little twitch of his lips.

'my camera must be faulty, gotta get a new one'

streamer!gojo [@/sago] who is affectionately known by his fans for being a big fat nerd. it's not like he tries to hide it, the background of his setup decorated avidly with all sorts of posters and memorabilia from his favourite shows and games. compared to other streamers, too, gojo wasn't one to particularly shy away from details of his personal life, his laidback and easygoing persona making it easy for people to become regular viewers of his streams.

on said streams it was commonplace for his chat to ask him questions about himself, and more often than not he would give them an answer- and on one of these such occasions is when he let slip the fact that he had a roommate. and that in itself isn't anything too worldbreaking to hear, but it's the way he almost lights up as he mentions your name that has his fans intrigued.

even more interesting is gojo's reluctance, for lack of a better word, about relinquishing more information about you. how quick he is to change the subject, or act as if he never read the original message at all.

and in an impressive effort which has the streisand effect in strong contention to be renamed to the gojo effect, this only further instils a need for his fans to know everything that they possibly could about you.

it's arguably one of his most well-loved bits with an incredibly long longevity, with a large amount of fanmade compilations of him at least alluding to it

'who's my roommate? i'll let you know when i find out'

'come back with a warrant, fed'

'that's some very personal information there which i would be hesitant to spread online. what do you MEAN i was telling you all about where i grew up 2 minutes ago-'

(you get the picture)

therefore, it's a rare and delightful treat whenever a new tidbit about you is let slip by the streamer. the day that your name got accidentally revealed by him on stream was a day for the books. and of course, since gojo's fans were deranged, your insta account and subsequent face reveal were soon to follow.

and once the cat was out of the bag, gojo seemed to begrudgingly relax about your secrecy. you started popping up in streams a bit more often, usually just a face peeking in to the room of gojo's setup, a sneaky wave that satoru would notice later and grin to himself about. he's got a highlight reel of your appearances on his twitch profile that he likes to rewatch more than he cares to admit.

one time, he even had you sat next to him during a just chatting stream, the two of you shooting the shit. his fans were quick to point out how red the tips of his ears were throughout the whole stream. and how he looked at you like you hung the moon and stars whenever you spoke. and how he kept looking at you like that even when you weren't speaking.

it was never official, but satoru's feelings for you were.. rather obvious to anyone with the time to tune in to his streams. his touchiness regarding you seemed to make a lot more sense now, and became the newest aspect of satoru's life for his chat to ruthlessly mock.

today was just a regular stream- some mindless shooter game that satoru was way too invested in, no mentions or guest appearances of you. until now.

the door opened in the background of the stream- satoru's eyes flick up just before the door even moves, as if he had a sixth sense just for you- and you storm into the room, closer to annoyed than your usual cheery self.

'toru, you forgot to take out the bins. they're being collected tomorrow so don't leave it too late

and just like that, you're gone again. there's not even an ounce of hesitation before satoru is getting up from his desk, headphones coming off despite the yells of his teammates for him to stop fucking around and help them rush a.

chat is making their usual comments, a spam of their love for you and excitement that you've made an appearance. a few keener watchers were geeking over the toru nickname that's sure to make their way into the next y/n and gojo compilation video.

and despite all of this, satoru's heading out of the room.

'my girl's mad at me guys, i gotta go fix it'

and he's only gone for a few minutes, at most. but it's like an implosion of oncoming messages, all scrolling past his screen with no eyes to see them.

gojospinkietoe: FIRST TORU THEN MY GIRL!!!???? OHHHH MY GOD 🥺🥺🥺

iwatchmen: the gojoyn fans are gonna loveeee this

gojoyn5evrrr: SOMEONE CLIP THAT

funnily enough, satoru doesn't even realise the slipup until he's almost back to his room. at least he can blame the blush this time on having to have gone outside very briefly.

it's not exactly the same as his usual slipups when it comes to you- usually, there's at least an element of truth to them, but this appears to be sourced from somewhere deeper in his brain, a lot more of a subconscious desire that he hoped wouldn't breach into the conscious realm.

not until he was ready, at least.

streamer!ino [@/yunglean4ever] who's more of an up and coming streamer.. but he's slowly and steadily making his way up the rankings!! his game of choice is usually an fps, with his default usually being csgo. or something like that. he enjoys the straightforward nature of it. and teabagging his opponents when he's in the mood to be a little shit.

during these livestreams he's met many a different player, some friendlier than the regular silence or automatic irritated mood that most seemed to have- or some russian guy screaming words into the mic that was anyone's guess as to what it meant.

and while interacting with said teammates is always a promising aspect of entertainment, ino wasn't one to remember most of these interactions, save for a few especially distinct ones.

one such occasion is when he meets you. you've got your mic on, which is always more appealing for ino than having to communicate via typing or reading chats, and even better is the almost instant connection that the two of you make. you giggle at his silly username, he indignantly defends his love for drain gang, and the rest is history.

one match played together turns into a friend request, which turns into becoming a party, which turns into playing duos, which turns into goving each other your discords, which turns into many more rounds which extend way after ino ends his stream.

it was merely a start to this new... something, but with the way that ino caught himself laughing a little too hard at your mildly funny jokes, he had a feeling that it would turn into something much more.

so when he boots up his pc the next day, it's not much surprise to him that there's some giddy emotion that he feels when he says a message from you

'wanna play? had a lot of fun last night w u :D'

he couldn't type out a response fast enough to contain his excitement.

⋆˚࿔ jjk masterlist

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ ... or, try reading hopelessly devoted to you

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mauvecherie-writes · 1 year ago

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save a horse, ride a driver: l.hamilton

pairing: lewis hamilton x black!reader

summary: there was no way you were letting lewis leave the hotel room looking the way he did without taking a spin first. [shoutout to my fren for this summary 😂]

tags: 18+ NSFW, MDNI, sexual content, pwp, oral [m] receiving, unprotected penetrative sex, dirty talk, spanking, slight choking, slight dom!lewis, breeding kink if you squint.

notes: today really ruined me guys 🫠. I wrote this in a few hours lmao. This is for the nasty girls like me going through ovulation and were left feeling wrecked by this man. NOT EDITED

w.c: 1.8K

reading list: @queenshikongo3 @dhlfastestlap @saintslewis @serpenttines-library @saturnville @hopefulromantic1 @cocobutterqwueen @bluesole16 @chaneajoyyy @emjayewrites @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @sapphireheaven @olyvoyl @lewisroscoelove @lh44adore @hellomadamebutterfly @scorpiobleue @qveenmelanink @tremendousstarlighttragedy @bekindbecoolbeyou @greedyjudge2 @itsapurrfectstorm @createdbylivingclocks @samiwzx @omgsuperstarg @peyiswriting @miyuhpapayuh @blowmymbackout @purplelewlew @henneseyhoe @xoscar03 @perfecttrashface @saturnville

Having some time off from work, you had decided to join your boyfriend in Monaco for the long race weekend. It was only Thursday so there was no need for you to accompany him to the trac with him. You were going to stay at the hotel and utilize their spa facilities before preparing for dinner with Lewis later.

As you finished using the bathroom, you could hear his team packing their belongings and leaving the room. Lewis had about another hour free before he needed to leave for the circuit if he wanted to be on time. This was the time, if you were together, you would share breakfast.

You walked out to the living room area and stopped dead in your stride when you saw Lewis standing in front of the mirror as he fixed his braids into a low bun.

“Holy shit.” The words slid out of your mouth as you gaped at him. He was dressed in an extremely low v-neck pale blue cashmere cardigan which left the golden brown of his tattooed chest exposed paired with wheat coloured waist fitted linen trousers. He wasn’t wearing the custom Dior sneakers just yet but the jewellery that had been laid out last night were now in the right places.

Lewis was a man of fashion, a common interest that had connected the both of you but it was days like this that reminded you how a well put outfit enhanced his beauty to another level. It amazed you how much his dress sense managed to raise your arousal.

He turned around to face you with a genuine smile that quickly transitioned into a smirk when he saw the glint of lust in your eyes.

”Hi baby.” He greeted you before walking to sit on the couch.

“Where do you think you’re going, looking like that?” You asked as you crossed the room.

“Like what?” He chuckled as he furrowed his eyebrows in slight confusion.

“Like a slut! Who are you tryna get, looking this good.” A deep laugh burst from his chest as a light rosy tint touched his cheeks. He was used to your peculiar way of complimenting him but there were times where the comment would make his insides melt. He was a grown man and you still had the ability to make him weak in the knees with your unbridled attention.

“This is only for you baby.” Lewis spoke, gesturing to his body. “I’m all yours and only yours.”

“Looking like a five course meal and I’m ready to eat.” You said licking your lips before you dropped to your knees in front of him, between his legs. He looked down at you as you looked up at him, massaging his thighs and he knew what you were intending to do.

“Sweetheart, you know I need to be leaving soon.” He mumbled as he leaned down and pecked your lips

“Being late has never stopped you before.” You were rubbing your palm against his hardening dick beneath the fabric of his trousers. Lewis’s eyes fluttered close as he tried to be rational. You knew that he didn’t need to be so early, the circuit was a team minute boat ride - if need be, they’d wait for him.

“I’m not letting you leave this room without a taste. Let me enjoy you first before anyone else.” Whatever front that he had been attempting to put up, fell.

“You’re such a spoiled brat.” He sighed as he leaned back and placed his right arm on top of the couch. His other hand came to stroke the side of your cheek. He gazed down at you as he pressed his thumb against your lips. Once he slid his thumb into your mouth, you didn’t hesitate to wrap your tongue around the digit and suck on it hard.

Your eyes never left his as you moaned around his thumb, suctioning your cheeks as you would around his cock.

“Look at you, my pretty girl. You want it bad huh?” He softly spoke but the flare of his nose and the hardening of his dick under your touch showed how he was really feeling. Your arousal and raw desire for your man was causing an uncomfortable dampness in your underwear.

“Take my dick out.” The command made your body tremble with excitement as you unbuttoned his trousers and pulled him out. Seeing you hold him must have done something because, suddenly he leaned forward, curling his ringed fingers into your coils before he placed his lips over yours - bruising them in the process.

“Open your mouth.” He told you. And as you opened your mouth, he said. “Suck your dick, baby.”

You whimpered before you placed a soft kiss on the tip and caressed the rest of his length. You looked up at him as you slowly took him into your mouth until he was lodged at the back of your throat.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty with my dick in your mouth.” With one hand, he took your hair into a ponytail as he determined the speed. You placed your hands on his thighs to steady yourself as he fucked your face - thrusting into your mouth as he pushed your head down on his length bringing you closer to his pelvis.

Your eyes were brimming with tears as you struggled for breath gagging on his dick. And you loved every second of it.

“You okay baby?” Lewis asked. His voice breathless but laced with concern at the state of tears staining your cheeks. You nodded your head and quickly drew him back into your mouth with your hand wringing his girth. You raised your eyes to meet his as you let him hit the back of your throat once more. The choking sounds you made had him twitching in your mouth.

“Goddamn, this fucking mouth.” Lewis hissed as you sucked on his tip causing the base of his spine to tingle. You made a swallowing motion which stimulated your throat to contrast and tighten around the tip of his dick.

“Fuuuucckkk me.” He groaned as he threw his head back, pushing you away.

You giggled as you pressed your hands onto his thighs and stood up. You placed your legs on either side of his hips and took his dick into your hand and the other hand moved your panties to the side. You rubbed his tip against your wet centre until he was drenched. Your eyes locked and despite his well put together outward appearance, you were unraveling him with your continuous teasing.

Lewis leaned forward and tugged at your thick coils in his hand to hoist your head backwards. The sting of the pull caused you to hiss.

“Don’t fucking play with me, YN. Ride this dick.” He sternly told you as he dragged his mouth down the column of your neck before biting onto your exposed shoulder. You moaned as you finally pressed the head of his dick on your entrance. You couldn’t stop moaning as you rotate your hips on his cock. Lewis’s hands came to your waist, guiding you down slowly on his thickness until he was nestled in deep.

He groaned, feeling your warmth all around him. He smacked your ass causing you to gasp. “This is what you wanted right? So take it.” He harshly whispered before he pulled you closer by your neck and captured your lips. No longer caring to be gentle, Lewis demanded. “Ride me.”

“Baby, you’re so big, wait -.” You pleaded but he slapped your ass cheek again, causing your pussy to clench around him.

You began to ride him. Hard.

You mashed your hips against his, rolling your waist back and forth so that he was touching every part of you intimately possible. Your eyes fluttered close as you arched your back as your walls rhythmically clenched around his dick. A guttural moan left your mouth as Lewis’s fingers dug into the flesh of your ass and fucked you harder.

“Fuck yes! Just like that!” Your voice quivered as you placed your hands on his shoulders. You started bouncing up and down his cock which left his eyes rolling to the back of his head. Every time you came down, Lewis would thrust his hips up - making your orgasm quickly rise within you.

“Don’t stop!” He breathlessly moaned. You shook your head before you leaned down and drew his bottom lip into your mouth before kissing him passionately.

“I won’t.” You whispered. You increased your speed. The sound of your flesh clapping - along with your moans echoed across the room. Sweat was beginning to line his forehead and roll down the sides of his forehead. The smell of your sex taking over your senses.

Lewis slammed into you with a desperation only you would know. His arms wrapped around your body and you dropped your head into his neck. Your teeth trapped his skin in between them as the familiar hot tingle at the bottom of your spine rose.

“I’m about to come baby. Fuucck, sweetheart I’m gonna come” He whispered, whimpering as you bounced harder.

“Come with me. Come inside me.” The accumulation of his dick pounding your sweet spot with your clit constantly brushing on his pelvis along with the commanding nature of his tone, you were done for.

Your nails painfully dug into his shoulders as you screamed, tensing as your climax erupted. Lewis’s mouth parted into a silent moan, pushing his face into your chest as you milked him for everything he had. Your breaths were ragged as Lewis collapsed back into the couch with you in his arms. You sighed into his chest before you turned your head and laid kisses on his damp skin.

“Fucking hell, sweetheart.” He mumbled as he rubbed your back beneath your nightie. The both of you laid there, your bodies feeling like melted butter. You didn’t need the spa anymore, you were taking a nap as soon as Lewis left.

“If you didn’t look so good, I wouldn’t have needed to ride you like this.”His laugh vibrated through your body.

“So it’s my fault now that you got turned on?”

“Yes! Next time wear a burlap sack or something. You know what, no - you’d somehow make that look good too.”

He chuckled and pressed a kiss on the side of your forehead. “I apologise, I’ll be more ugly next time.”

INSTAGRAM |

therealyn

liked by lewishamilton, f1wags, and others

therealyn Save a horse, ride a driver or whatever was said 🥵 and my mannn, thank you to my mannn.

view 2,344 comments

user818 This is so real of you actually 😂🤭

user121 Ma’am, this is a wendy’s

lewishamilton Can you stop🧍🏾

⤷ therealyn lewishamilton But if I remember correctly, you were telling me not to????

⤷lewishamilton therealyn 🤦🏾

user619 not them basically confirming what we’re all thinking in the comments 😩😫

user444 No because if Lewis Hamilton was my boyfriend, I would be behaving like this too.

charles_leclerc Now we know why he was so happy in the paddock today ..

⤷ therealyn charlesleclerc Happy to be of service 🫡

lewishamilton therealyn When I get back, I’m locking your phone away.

⤷ therealyn lewishamilton as if 🙄🤚🏾

user788 the fact you can see in the video when he’s in the garage, the exact moment he saw this post 😭.

ru’s letter💌: this is probably one of the fastest I’ve written and uploaded something 😂. I have such a thing for eye contact during sex I’m noticing 🤭.

#mauvecherie writes #save a horse ride a driver one shot #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton x black!reader #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton fanfiction #lewis hamilton fic #sir lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton #lh

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ghoulishhx · 3 months ago

Note

hii how ya doin! idk if anyone's asked for this yet but I'd LOVE to see nr 8 from the smut prompt list with frank!!

much much love from vienna, big fan of your work!! 🖤

8.) oops, we were just hiding in this closet, but then the close proximity get us too turned on not to fuck

heyy bestiee, im so glad you like my work mwah im obsessed with you. i really hope you like this one too!!

edit: my dumbass had this tagged as number 4 this whole time when it is actually number 8, I'm sorry for the potential confusion LMAO

18+ MDNI !!

My Masterlist!

──── ୨୧ ────

Pairing: Frank Castle x FemVigilante!Reader

Content Warning: SMUTTT, enemies to lovers type beat, fingering, squirting, oral (m!recieving), doggyy, kinda rough frank, dirty talk, praise, spanking, a little slappin' and whatnot, swearing, mutual pining

Wordcount: 3.5k

──── ୨୧ ────

✦ be quiet

“For fuck sake, what are you doing here, Castle?” you groan, noticing the dark figure in the corner of the barely lit room as soon as you enter through the fire escape. You hear him let out a deep sigh, acknowledging your presence as he turns on his heel to meet your eyes. The annoyance oozing out of his stark, chiseled features. Nostrils flaring, lips turning white from strain. As if this night couldn’t get any worse, you think to yourself.

“What am I doing here?” he lets out a laugh, as if your question was insulting. “You should be askin’ yourself that sweetheart, not me. This is my case, I don’ need to be babysitting your ass all night. Hurry on home doll, I got it from here.” you scoff at the patronising tone his words carried, anger boiling your blood as you stand staring at him dumbfounded.

“I’m not your fucking sweetheart, Frank,” you spit at him, chest heaving with annoyance. God, did Frank Castle know how to push your buttons. “You know damn well I work this territory, scurry back off to Hell’s Kitchen before I drag you there myself.” you puff your chest out subconsciously like a fucking bird, making yourself appear big and scary when in fact the man you were trying to intimidate stood over a foot taller than you.

“Nice try darlin’,” he mumbles, shaking his head as he darkly chuckles at your feeble attempt to get him to back off. “You don’t scare me in the slightest.” He leans down, whispering in your ear. The feeling of his breath hot on your neck, causing goosebumps to erupt across the back of your neck. You take a deep breath, inhaling his scent. A mix of gunpowder and whiskey sits present in your nose and you let out a shaky breath.

Why the fuck, how the fuck is he eliciting this reaction from you? You resent this man, the way he’d always show up in your fights, finishing your jobs with that cocky smirk across his face that drove you insane. Of course it was always bound to happen, New York is a huge city with an even huger crime rate, two vigilantes bumping into each other and sticking their noses in the other’s work is expected. But it was almost every time you were on patrol, it would always end with you and Frank at each other’s throats. You started to think he was doing it on purpose, intentionally trying to rile you up, feeding off of your uncontrollable rage.

“Cat got ya tongue, doll?” he teases you, noticing the way your face instantly grew red at the sudden close proximity between you both.

“Shut up.” you state between gritted teeth, moving your head from his, avoiding his eyes. He chuckles, and from the corner of your eye you watch him look you up and down, the action so quick you believed you imagined it.

“Y’know, the more we bump into each other like this.. I’m startin’ to think you’re obsessed with me or somethin’ angel.” he inches closer to you, his face so close to yours, making your heart beat so hard out of your chest you’re worried you might have a heart attack.

“You wish Castle, dream on.” you scoff, finally turning your eyes back to his, matching his intense gaze. His pupils are blown with an unrecognisable emotion, the sight making a wave of arousal crash through you.

“Maybe I do.. Listen I-”

He’s cut off by the sound of boots outside the door of the apartment you had both snuck into. You pull away from each other as you glance towards the fire escape, thinking to yourself you could make it to the window in time before the footsteps come through the door. Before you have a chance to bolt for the exit, you feel yourself being dragged from behind, Frank’s large rough hand covering your mouth, stifling the noises as he drags you both into the closet behind you both.

“What the fuck Frank?” you hiss, grabbing his hand from your mouth and pushing it back into him, keeping your volume low knowing you two were no longer alone.

“Shh.. won’t ya shut ya fuckin’ mouth for once. They’re coming in.” he whispers back as you hear the door to the apartment swing open. You hear at least 3 men come into the room, slurring their words and laughing amongst themselves heartily. They were obviously intoxicated. Your source told you tonight would be the best chance to hit the place as there was absolutely no way anyone would be in. ‘Thanks a lot Lieberman, last time I took your word’, you think to yourself.

Only now do you realise how close you are to Frank, barely inches apart from one another, your chests pushed together, his hands either side of your head resting on the closet behind you, trapping you in. You feel his chest heave against yours, your breathing deep and synced with each other. He absentmindedly takes one of his hands from the side of your cheek, and brushes your hair out of your face. You two have never been as close to one another as you are now, and you take the time to analyse all of the features on his face. His furrowed brows and dark eyes staring deep into your own, his freshly shaven face enhancing his jaw line, his nose. You can’t help but let your eyes travel all over his features, taking them all in, memorising every single bump and crevice. He does the exact same, staring you down with no shame. You two were always arguing and he never allowed himself to realise how gorgeous you were, those soft plump lips, the fullness of your cheeks. His eyes rest on your lips, imagining what they taste like, how they would feel against his own.

Without thinking, he closes the gap between you both, giving in to his desire to have you. You reciprocate, instantly becoming addicted to his taste and touch. He moves his hands down to your hips, gripping them so intensely you’re sure they will be bruised by morning. He pushes himself into you even closer and you feel his hard bulge through his jeans rubbing into you. Moving his lips from your mouth to your neck, sucking and nibbling on the sensitive skin, you can’t help but let out a small moan. Looking up at you, he takes one hand from your waist and wraps it around your mouth.

“Ya gotta be quiet baby, you think you can do that f’me?” he lowly whispers, his words deepened with arousal. You desperately nod your head. “Good girl.”

He carries on the assault of your neck with his rough hand clamped around your mouth, subduing any noises that attempted to escape. His free hand roams all over your body, feeling your curves through your latex purple and black suit, hungrily grabbing at you. You reach down to palm his bulge, the need for him possessing you. You hear his breath deepen as he pants into your neck at the sensation.

“God, you don’t know what you do to me when I see you in this.” he grips at the material of your latex suit as his hand travels to your breast. “Been dyin’ to know what you feel like.. Taste like..” he trails off as he resumes kissing your neck. You moan into his hand, grinding yourself into his crotch. If you told yourself 10 minutes ago you would both be in this situation, you would’ve laughed. He was your least favourite person on earth, the mere thought of him being in your proximity other than right now made your skin crawl. That's probably why this felt so good, all that pent up emotion for one and other coming undone through each of your touches.

All patience leaves your body in a flash, and you’re reaching down to unbuckle his belt, your movements fast but quiet, the knowledge of the three men outside the closet door mere meters away is prevalent in your mind, but you know if you can’t have Frank now you might explode from horniness. He welcomes your gesture as he begins slipping off your body suit in return, slowly peeling the fabric from your body to expose your chest and the tiny lacy bra covering your pebbled nipples. A low groan emerges from his throat at the sight, as he takes you in.

“You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous doll, shame ya never gave me the chance to tell ya earlier, always too busy runnin’ that bratty mouth off at me.” he whispers, flashing you his signature cocky grin in the dark. You roll your eyes and begin to offer him a remark back but you’re interrupted with the feel of his tongue swirling around your nipple, taking the bud in between his teeth and biting softly, making you jerk in a delicious mixture of pain and pleasure. You have to hold your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from screaming out his name. You buck your hips into his, chasing any sense of friction. He notices your pleas of desperation, moving one of his hands down to your panties. “Fuckin’ hell doll, you’re fuckin’ soaked.. All f’me?” he softly utters in your ear, rubbing his fingers through your folds and drenched underwear.

“Only you Frank, fuck please fucking touch me.” you hush, surprised at the words coming out of your mouth. You can’t lie to yourself anymore, you’ve wanted him this entire time. As much as you hated him, you wanted him just as bad. Frank pushes the soaked garment to the side, coming into contact with your bare pussy. His calloused fingers run over your engorged clit and you almost cum instantly. The air in the closet was thick and electrified, the energy emitting from both of your bodies was intense, the movement of your bodies so close together was addicting. He begins flicking at the bundle of nerves, as your knees begin to buckle beneath you. It takes every bit of power you can muster to stay quiet, his skilled fingers bringing you closer and closer to the edge with every swipe. He replaces his fingers with his thumb, slipping the now free digits to your entrance, rimming the opening with his middle and index.

“Shh doll, really gonna need ya to shut up now ok? Even though all I want is to hear ya scream my name, that can wait till later.” he gives you a quick wink as he enters you with his fingers, capturing your gasps and whines with his mouth, shoving his tongue deep into your face as the two muscles dance among one another, collecting each others’ tastes. He pumps in and out of you in a bruising pace, pushing so perfectly against your songy spot. You feel your release around the corner, about to take over you until you hear a voice outside the closet.

“You guys hear that? Someone in here?”

You and Frank freeze, his fingers still inside you as he fulls his mouth from your tit, putting his hand back over your mouth, staring you down with his lust blown pupils. You stay like this for a few minutes while you hear the men shuffling around outside the closet. He begins slowly pumping his fingers inside of you again, slyly smirking as he watches you go insane. You glare at him, shooting daggers into him as he torments you, knowing the effect he has over you.

“Nah man I think you’re goin’ insane, ain’t no one here but us.”

Your shoulders drop, visibly relieved you weren’t caught but that was too damn close. Frank begins the pace, harder and more intense this time and its mere seconds before you cum around him, your walls clamping around his fingers like a vice.

“That's it doll, let it all out. Good fuckin’ girl, stayin’ so quiet f’me.” your eyes roll to the back of your head and knees threaten to give out beneath you, but his strong arm wraps around your waist, holding you up before you crash into the wood beneath you. Despite cumming as hard as you ever have before moments ago, your arousal crashes through you, watching him remove his fingers from your pussy and take them into his mouth, sucking your release from his digits, revelling in the taste. You start reaching down to give him attention too. He can’t help but throw his head back as you move to your knees as carefully as possible to not make noise or rock the closet too much. Your face is met with his cock, impossibly thick and long, leaking pre-cum from the tip. You almost drool at the sight, and wonder how on earth it will fit inside you. You place your tongue on his tip, collecting the juices leaving his member, the salt making you salivate more. You begin bobbing your head slowly, taking as much of him in as you can. You can’t get enough as your eyes well with tears not even being halfway down. He takes his hands and laces his fingers through your hair, gripping harshly as he makes a fist with your hair. Frank begins guiding your head up and down his length, jaw slack and mouth agape at the feeling of your hot mouth around him.

“Just like that sweetheart, fuck just like that..” he darkly whispers, as if he was trying to stifle the noises erupting in his throat. He starts fucking into your mouth, pushing himself so unbelievably deep inside of you,

“Needed to punish that fuckin bratty mouth of yours.. Fuck, the way you’ve been speakin’ t’me these weeks and you expected me not to fill it? Dirty fuckin’ girl needed a big cock to finally get her to shut up.” you moan around his cock at his lewd words, as he lands a soft slap to the side of you face.

“If you can’t be quiet doll, imma have to stop, ya don’ want that d’ya? My little slut can’t get enough of my cock.” you shake your head, meeting his eyes with a pleading gaze because the thought of him stopping right now was not even an option for you. “That's what I thought. Attagirl” he rubs over your cheek where he struck you, contrasting from the previous sharpness with his comforting touch.

“Alright, we got what we need. Let’s go boys, boss wants us to meet him at the bar.”

The footsteps outside of the closet move through the room, towards the door as you hear the door unlocking and them pass through.

They’re gone, and you and Frank are now alone, his cock still twitching in your mouth.

You look up to him and smile around his girth as he smiles back.

“Fuckin’ finally,” he exhales, relieved, grabbing your elbows from your side and pulling you up to match his height. “I don’t know if I could’ve handled fuckin’ ruining ya in here, unable to hear you scream my name.”

He steps out the closet, taking his gun in his hand to make sure there was no one outside. You couldn’t help but giggle at the sight, his messed up hair, flushed cheeks, clothes rustled as he steps out with his hard cock first and jeans undone.

“It's all clear doll, come out.”

You leave to join him, as you peel the rest of your suit off of you while stepping towards him. He takes you in a firm embrace and pushes his lips on yours as he sheds the rest of his clothes. Running your hands all over his toned chest, feeling every indentation of his abs as he does the same, cupping your breasts and kneading them like dough while fucking your mouth with his tongue.

“Bend over the couch f’me doll, be a good girl yeah?” you nod, turning away from him as you push yourself down the arm of the couch, wiggling your hips at him. He lets out a primal groan, the sight sending him over the edge. You feel a harsh slap ring across your ass. You yelp in pain laced with pleasure as he slaps you again once more, followed by a couple more. Your breaths are hiccuped, as you whine and push your ass into his crotch, dying for any sense of friction.

“God dunno how much I’ve been wantin’ to do that, spank this perfect ass for all the times you’ve misbehaved. What’s up doll, cat got ya tongue?” he says, reaching down to cup your jaw and angle your face towards him.

“‘M sorry sir, I’ll be good from now on, I swear.. Please Frank I need you so bad.”

“Need me to do what, sweet thing? Use ya big girl words f’me yeah? Know ya can.”

“Fuck Frank, please. Please just fuck me. Need to feel your big dick inside me- oh!” your words are cut off as he pushes himself fully into you, the stretch of your walls burning so good as he gets situated inside of you.

“Fuck darlin’ you’re so fucking tight. I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin ya.” he begins thrusting into you with a harsh and passionate pace, his heavy balls smacking off your clit. Pleasure coarses through your veins, the feeling unlike nothing you have experienced before, with either yourself or anyone else. His tip repeatedly kisses your cervix with every thrust. The noises erupting from you are sinful, you shamelessly cry out as he grips onto your hips, keeping you firm in place.

“Fuckfuckfuck Frank right there don’t stop don’t you fucking stop. ‘M so close.. Fuck please ohmygod.” you say through strangled sobs, your moans are borderline pornographic.

“Let it all out babydoll, milk my fuckin’ cock. It’s all yours darlin’” he reaches down to your engorged bud, flicking it hurriedly. It’s not long until your release, forcing his cock out with the sheer power of your pussy clamping and the long stream of squirt leaving your sex.

“There she goes! Atta-fuckin-girl doll, mess up that pretty pussy.” he replaces his fingers with his tip as he rubs it across your throbbing clit, prolonging your orgasm for as long as humanly possible, feeling the gush of your sweet release on his cock. “Fuck doll, you look so perfect cummin’ for me.”

He pushes his cock back inside of you, grabbing your hair into a fist, pulling you back as you arch further into him. “My fuckin’ girl, who does this pussy belong to sweet girl?”

“You sir, all you. I’m all yours.” you say through strangled sobs, putting your hands beneath you to balance yourself.

“Damn fuckin’ right it is princess. You belong to me.” he growls as his pace quickens, chasing his own release. It’s not long before his thrusts begin to falter, as you feel his dick twitch inside of you.

“Fill me up sir, please I wanna feel it. I wanna feel you.”

“Don’ have to tell me twice, every drop of my seed belongs in your sweet cunt. Ya gonna be feelin’ me for days baby girl.” Frank groans, dropping his hand full of your hair to your hips, as he grips you in his large hands drilling into you. You wish you could’ve somehow recorded the noises he made when he emptied himself inside of you. You could’ve sworn you heard him whimper along with saying your name and chanting curses like a prayer. The feeling of his member throb and twitch inside of you is something you never want to forget.

Reluctantly after a few minutes, he removes himself from you. He stands back as he watches your mixed juices flow from your hole, evidence of the previous events dropping onto the hardwood floor beneath you. He can’t help but push his finger back inside of you, forcing his cum back. Your overstimulated pussy weeps with the action, making you whimper once more.

“You look so pretty, stuffed full’a me.”

He pulls away and places a kiss to your shoulder as you turn onto your back, sprawled out naked for him, your lips flushed and swollen from his kisses, hickeys beginning to form on your neck and your dripping hole instantly make him hard as a rock once more, after fully unloading himself in you minutes prior. You notice, and offer him a playful grin, moving your hands back down to your sex, swirling the juice with your fingers. He lets out a groan at what his eyes are seeing.

“Dirty fuckin’ girl, just got stuffed to the brim but still needy? I’ll take care of ya doll, let Frankie take care of ya..”

You fucked three more times that night, all over the apartment. Luckily the drunkards who forced you into this predicament were long gone, probably passed out in an alleyway somewhere. But you couldn’t give less of a fuck, there was only one man on your mind for the rest of the night.

Frank fucking Castle.

──── ୨୧ ────

a/n: i hope you enjoyed ml, im honestly quite proud of this one, so obsessed with frank dirty talkingg it makes me feral

my inbox is open!

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sixeyesonathiel · 2 months ago

Text

love thy neighbor — chapter one.

pairing – boy next door! gojo x fem reader

summary : you grew up with the boy next door, the one with wild white hair and a grin too sharp for someone who always left dirt on your doorstep. satoru lived to rile you up, stealing your snacks and outrunning you in backyard chases, weaving himself into your life despite every glare you threw. through the chaos of shared summers and endless spats, he became a constant you couldn’t quite escape.

college stretched you apart, states away, the silence of distance swallowing your usual bickering—until summer drags you back. nothing’s the same. the air feels heavier, the days stranger, and satoru’s still all smirks and sly glances, but his eyes linger now, carrying a quiet ache you’re only starting to notice. college has you questioning everything, and he’s waiting, like always, for you to catch up to something you’re not ready to name.

tags –> fluff, tiny bit of angst later, eventual smut, neighbors au, childhood frenemies to lovers, suburban warfare (moms edition), mutual pining, domestic in the pettiest way possible, slow burn, growing up together, long term pining, yearner satoru, summer vacation tension, alternating POVs.

a/n : releasing this as series with four chapters that will have 10k+ wc per chapter instead of a oneshot out of draft jail because i overyappped once again, i’m really sorry for second guessing and hesitating so much, making u all wait TvT

collection m.list. | series masterlist. | playlist. | next ch.

the neighborhood was perfect.

white fences, manicured lawns, and an unspoken rule that everything must remain picturesque. but beneath the surface of perfection, an ancient war raged: your mother versus satoru’s. it was a battle fought with gardening shears and passive-aggressive remarks, masked by polite smiles at neighborhood events.

your mother, ever the strategist, sipped her tea with a dramatic sigh whenever satoru’s mother so much as stepped onto her porch. “oh, did you see the way she over-fertilizes?” she mused, her voice dripping with feigned concern. “poor plants, suffocating under all that desperate effort.”

meanwhile, satoru’s mother, arranging her hydrangeas in full view of your living room window, would hum thoughtfully before muttering, “i’d be embarrassed if my hydrangeas were that dull. not that i’d let it happen.”

the tension was palpable, woven into every stolen glance and whispered insult disguised as gardening advice. neither woman ever admitted the rivalry outright, but the perfectly pruned rose bushes and the carefully curated window boxes spoke volumes.

their husbands, however, lived in blissful ignorance. every weekend, they could be found on the golf course or clinking beer bottles over the backyard fence, chuckling about how “our wives are gonna kill each other one day, huh?”

the rivalry simply amused them.

but you and satoru? you were casualties. you were dragged into their war from the moment you could walk, coached into side-eyed glares and dismissive huffs whenever the gojos were mentioned.

when your father first introduced you to satoru at a neighborhood barbecue, he did so with the same pride as a general uniting two warring factions. “this is satoru, gojo’s boy!” he beamed, clapping his friend on the back.

but instead of an instant friendship, all satoru got was a glare and the words your mother had fed you over breakfast that morning.

“we don’t talk to people who use fake grass as a lawn substitute.”

you said it with the confidence of someone who truly understood what that meant, though in reality, you weren’t entirely sure why fake grass was so offensive. satoru blinked at you, mouth slightly open, his white lashes fluttering as if he hadn’t processed what just happened.

“...huh?” he finally said, voice trailing off in confusion.

your dads laughed, the kind of laugh that men share when they think their kids are just being silly. it wasn’t silly. it was war. and from that moment on, satoru gojo was your enemy, whether he wanted to be or not.

the first time you’re sent outside to water the garden, you don’t think much of it—until you see satoru stepping out of his house at the same time, dragging a garden hose behind him. he’s still in his pajamas, some silly blue set with little clouds on it, his white hair sticking up in messy tufts, like he just rolled out of bed.

he’s wearing slippers—bunny slippers, to be precise—but what really catches your attention are the socks. white with tiny little blue stars, pulled up just past his ankles, the kind of socks that scream these are my favorite and if anything happens to them, i will never recover.

you freeze, fingers tightening around the nozzle as he glances at you, then at his own hose, then back at you. for a second, neither of you speak. but you both know. your moms, pretending to be absorbed in their baking and magazine-reading inside, have timed this on purpose.

“pure coincidence,” your mother had said, the corners of her lips twitching in barely concealed triumph, and you—foolish, naive—had believed her.

satoru, being satoru, tries to be friendly at first, tilting his head as he watches you water the tulips along the fence. “your tulips are kinda nice,” he says, casual, like he’s just making conversation, like he isn’t the enemy.

you whip your head toward him so fast your hair smacks you in the face, eyes narrowing, scoffing as if he’s just insulted your entire bloodline. “don’t lie. your mom says they’re ugly.”

his jaw drops, scandalized, and you swear you can hear the dramatic gasp of betrayal in the air. “well, your mom says our garden looks like a plastic factory exploded.” he crosses his arms, standing his ground, his voice rising slightly like he can’t believe you just threw that at him.

you stare at him.

he stares at you.

the hose in your hand drips onto the grass, but you’re too busy processing his words to care. your mother had what ? you had been raised on the belief that your family had the superior garden, the most elegant flowers, the healthiest grass. and now, satoru gojo, the enemy, was claiming that your mom had been talking about his garden?

your lips part in slow betrayal, nose wrinkling in distaste, and you take a slow step back. he mirrors you, blue eyes narrowed in suspicion, his fingers twitching against the hose. neither of you say another word. but you both know what’s coming next.

the next day, war begins. it starts simple—satoru ‘accidentally’ sprays you with his hose while you’re carefully pruning the roses, his grin widening when water soaks into your shirt. you shriek, stumbling back, clutching your watering can tighter like a weapon. fine. if that’s how he wants to play, then so be it. you take a step, then another, before gasping dramatically and tripping—the entire can of water spilling directly onto his feet.

he lets out a scream, the most theatrical, over-the-top wail you’ve ever heard, jumping back like he’s been set on fire. “MY SOCKS!” he yells, staring down at them in pure horror, his slippers useless against the water seeping in. his hands fly up to his head, gripping his white tufts in agony, eyes squeezed shut like he’s in a tragedy film. “they’re wet! my favorite socks are WET!”

“oh, please,” you huff, rolling your eyes even as your own shirt clings uncomfortably to your skin. “it’s just water.”

“IT’S IN MY SOCKS.” he’s pacing now, hands on his hips, face twisted in pure devastation. “DO YOU KNOW HOW GROSS WET SOCKS ARE?!”

the next thing you know, you’re both storming inside, loudly declaring your grievances to your fathers.

“she did it on purpose!”

“he started it first!”

you both jab fingers in each other’s direction, demanding justice, your voices overlapping in a chorus of whiny accusations. satoru’s slippers squelch with every step he takes, which only makes him angrier, which only makes you smugger. but your dads, ever the peacemakers, just chuckle over their beers and wave you off. “just work it out, kids!”

useless. completely, utterly useless.

you and satoru glare at each other from across the room, still damp, still fuming, both of you knowing, deep in your little childish hearts—whether you like it or not, this is only the beginning.

days slip by, your damp glares hardening into a silent pact—every sprinkler twitch, every sidelong glance a spark for the next war. your moms, oblivious or scheming, sip lemonade on the porch, their laughter sharp as pruning shears, while you and satoru circle like cats, waiting for the other to pounce.

it appears overnight.

one day, your mother’s pristine front yard is free of any unnecessary clutter, and the next, it’s there—perched right at the edge of the gojos’ flower bed, staring directly at your house with its beady, unsettling eyes.

the ugliest garden gnome you’ve ever seen. its paint is chipped in places, its smile is a little too wide, and its hat is a garish shade of red that clashes horribly with the hydrangeas behind it.

your mother nearly drops her morning tea when she spots it through the kitchen window.

“oh. oh, that woman wants to play dirty.”

she sets her cup down with the grace of a queen preparing for battle, fingers tightening around the delicate porcelain like she’s contemplating war strategies. her brows draw together, lips pressed into a firm line as she leans closer, scrutinizing the gnome like it personally insulted her taste in home decor.

by the end of the day, a stone fairy statue sits on your side of the fence, directly facing the gnome. her expression is serene, her wings spread wide, and her hands clasped together as if in prayer—yet something about her placement feels pointed. deliberate. a silent declaration of superiority in the war of aesthetics.

you and satoru meet at the line that divides your houses, staring at each other over the ridiculous decorations your mothers have so proudly planted in the soil. it’s early afternoon, the sun casting long shadows across the grass, and the air is thick with unspoken tension.

satoru stands lazily with his hands in his pockets, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, the summer light catching in his white hair and making it look almost silver. his eyes, bright and sharp, flit between the fairy and the gnome before settling on you, amusement flickering in their depths.

“so,” he drawls, rocking back slightly on his heels. “admiring the superior piece of art?”

you don’t answer. instead, you take a single step forward and flick his forehead, hard. his head jerks back slightly, his smirk faltering for half a second before he recovers, blinking at you like you’ve just committed a grave crime against his entire bloodline.

“your gnome looks like it crawled out of a swamp.”

satoru’s jaw drops, a scandalized gasp slipping past his lips. his hand flies to his forehead, rubbing the spot you flicked like you just inflicted some kind of irreversible damage.

“you—” he sputters, shaking his head as if in disbelief. then, with the precision of someone who has been waiting for this moment his entire life, he flicks you right back, his finger striking the center of your forehead with surprising force.

“your fairy looks like it belongs in a cemetery.”

you don’t know who lunges first, but suddenly, you’re both on the ground. hands grasping at arms, legs kicking up dirt, your yells and shrieks breaking the peaceful afternoon air.

satoru pulls at your sleeve, so you shove him, and he shoves you right back, his stupidly strong grip knocking you off balance. the scent of freshly cut grass fills your nose as your back hits the ground, satoru’s weight pressing down as he tries to pin you, but you twist, rolling and taking him with you.

“get off me, you overgrown ferret!” you hiss, your fingers grasping at the fabric of his shirt in an attempt to push him away.

“overgrown?” he scoffs, despite being half sprawled across the dirt, panting. “you’re literally—ow! stop pulling my hair, you gremlin!”

grass sticks to your clothes, dust clings to your skin, and the world tilts as you both roll across the lawn like a pair of feral raccoons fighting over food.

from the porch, your mother gasps, her hand flying to her chest in horror. satoru’s mom, less dramatic but equally exasperated, calls out something about ruining the flowers, but neither of you hear her over the sound of your bickering.

your fathers, however, are the last to react. one second, they’re sipping their beers on the porch, talking about some old golf game, and the next, their precious children are rolling in the dirt like a pair of rabid raccoons.

both men jump up at the same time, eyes wide, jaws dropping in comical horror.

“oh my god, they’re fighting.” gojo’s dad sounds genuinely distressed, like he’s just witnessed the betrayal of the century.

your dad nearly trips over the porch step as he rushes forward, his voice heavy with disbelief. “this is a disaster! we raised them better than this!”

it takes all their combined strength to pry you and satoru apart. you’re still kicking, your hand tangled in his stupid white hair, while he’s gripping onto your sleeve like he refuses to let you get the last hit. dirt smudges both your cheeks, grass stains your clothes, and the once-perfect garden is in shambles around you.

satoru’s mom lets out a horrified gasp, clutching her chest as she surveys the battlefield that was once a pristine lawn. her manicured fingers tremble, eyes darting between the trampled flowers and her son’s dirt-streaked face like she’s witnessing the collapse of civilization.

your mom, on the other hand, stands tall with her arms crossed, head tilting ever so slightly as a slow, satisfied smile curls on her lips—like a queen who just watched her heir claim victory in a brutal duel. her gaze flickers to you, pride gleaming in her eyes before she speaks, voice low and laced with amusement.

“you see?” she murmurs, just loud enough for her husband to hear, yet dripping with the unmistakable venom of a well-placed jab. “this is what happens when you let your daughter socialize with bad influences.”

she doesn’t look at satoru’s mom as she says it, but the weight of her words lands squarely where it’s meant to.

satoru’s mom bristles, her grip tightening on the pearl necklace resting against her collarbone, but she holds her tongue—for now. the war between them is long-standing, fought with polite smiles and passive-aggressive flower arrangements, but today, your mom has landed a solid hit.

your dads, however, are too emotionally wounded to acknowledge their wives’ ongoing cold war. your father looks at you like you just kicked a puppy in front of him, his hands shaking slightly as he runs them through his hair in utter disbelief.

“you’re best friends!” he exclaims, voice cracking like his entire world is crumbling before his eyes. “this—this is not how best friends act!” his horror is genuine, as if the mere thought of you and satoru, the lifelong duo, turning on each other is an omen of the apocalypse.

satoru’s dad isn’t faring any better, hands braced against his knees as if steadying himself for what might come next. he exhales, long and pained, shaking his head like he’s about to mourn the loss of something sacred.

“we failed them,” he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper, but heavy with grief. he looks at his son, at the tangled mess of white hair and stubborn defiance, then at you, covered in dirt and glaring daggers at his boy.

to him, this is a tragedy beyond comprehension.

for a fleeting moment, the sheer devastation in their eyes almost makes you feel bad. almost. but then you glance at satoru, and he’s already looking at you with that same ridiculous, half-offended, half-smug expression, a silent dare in those too-bright eyes.

the pity shrivels and dies instantly, replaced by a renewed wave of annoyance. because, honestly, why does he look like he won? he didn’t win.

“you’re gonna apologize and shake hands,” your dad says, attempting to sound firm despite the evident emotional turmoil in his voice.

you and satoru both freeze, breathing still uneven from the scuffle, before simultaneously turning away with identical scoffs. the idea of making peace with each other so soon, especially under adult supervision, is downright insulting.

“absolutely not.” the rejection comes in perfect unison, as if you rehearsed it beforehand.

but then satoru’s dad straightens up, shoulders squared, and fixes you both with a rare, serious, dad look—the kind that demands obedience without words, the kind that even satoru, with all his stubborn arrogance, hesitates to challenge. suddenly, rebellion doesn’t seem worth the trouble.

grumbling under your breath, you stomp forward, satoru mirroring your reluctance with a dramatic sigh. your hands clasp together with the enthusiasm of someone being forced to shake hands with a venomous snake.

and then, just because neither of you can ever let the other win, you squeeze. hard .

satoru winces first, barely, and your lips twitch into a victorious grin. but then he recovers, tightening his grip just enough to make your fingers ache, and a smirk creeps onto his face. across the yard, your dads, completely oblivious to the ongoing war happening in your clasped hands, wipe fake tears from their eyes, murmuring about how balance has been restored.

but nothing has been solved. nothing at all.

the forced peace lasts exactly three days before you're elbowing him in the ribs for hogging the watering can. he retaliates by “accidentally” spraying your shoes.

you step on his foot.

he tugs your hair.

you pinch his arm when no one’s looking—fingers darting quick, nailing the soft spot under his sleeve. he yelps “ow!” under his breath, swatting back with a pouty glare. by the time the roses are watered, you’ve racked up twelve secret scuffles—stealthy masterpieces hidden from the kitchen windows where your moms sip grudges with their brew.

he trips you into a rosebush with a sly nudge—smug grin flashing, all teeth and blue-eyed glee. you lob a fistful of fertilizer like a prank grenade. it dusts his face gritty brown. he sputters “gross!” and wipes it off with his t-shirt hem.

your cackle cuts the air when dirt clumps in his perfect white hair. he shakes it out like a wet dog, strands spiking like a porcupine. then he shoves you—hands fast on your shoulders—sending you splashing into the birdbath. water soaks your shorts.

“jerk!” you hiss, scrambling up, nose scrunched in fury. he giggles “serves you right!” and dodges your swat, slippers squishing on the grass. it’s exhausting—this endless tug-of-war. arms ache. slippers muddy. but stopping? not an option. you’re magnets, doomed to clash.

the backyard brawl simmers all week. each morning brings sneaky jabs and muffled yelps. roses and hydrangeas stand as silent witnesses.

your dads catch on eventually—dirt-stained clothes you try to sneak past the laundry, faint bruises on your knees, satoru’s slight limp after you “accidentally” drop a watering can on his foot. they’re done. sick of scuffs. sick of whining.

sick of their wives’ icy fence-side stares—each blaming the other’s kid, their garden rivalry now a cold war over mulch tips and pta brags.

one afternoon, mid-scuffle—over who stepped on whose garden bed and if that’s an act of war—you’re shoving his chest, his elbow jabs your side. your dads roll in like tired storm clouds.

“enough!” yours barks, arms crossed, flannel sleeves rolled up, face etched with exhaustion from your week-long nonsense.

satoru’s dad nods, rubbing his temples. “you’re driving us up the wall—cut it out or you’re grounded ‘til christmas.”

“he started it!” you snap, pointing at satoru—your pout deepens, your muddy slippers leaving a smudge on the patio as you cross your arms tight.

“she pinched me first!” satoru fires back, his voice high and whiny as he jabs a finger at you, his hair still dusted with fertilizer flecks, his blue eyes wide with mock innocence.

“that’s it,” your dad says, rubbing his temples like this is physically paining him. “you’re best friends now. deal with it.” his voice is firm, final, like a judge handing down a life sentence.

satoru’s dad stands beside him, nodding like he’s just made peace with some deep, personal tragedy.

“if you’re gonna keep fighting, you might as well do it under supervision,” he adds, voice hollow with defeat. “playdates. every day. no exceptions.”

you and satoru freeze, eyes locking in an unspoken moment of horror. playdates? every day? with him?

“no,” you start, shaking your head as panic sets in, “no, no, no, i refuse—”

“you can’t make us!” satoru cries, taking a step back like he might actually run for it.

but your dad is already walking away like the matter is settled, and satoru’s dad claps a heavy hand on his son’s shoulder, muttering something about “team bonding” before disappearing inside.

betrayal. this is betrayal of the highest order.

you whip around, jabbing a finger into satoru’s chest, voice dripping with accusation. “this is your fault.”

his jaw drops, indignant. “my fault? you’re the one who threw the first punch last time!”

“because you called my hair stupid!”

“it is stupid!” he fires back, arms flailing as he gestures wildly toward your head. “it looks like a mop!”

you take a deep, dramatic gasp, clutching your chest like you’ve been personally wounded. “oh, yeah? well, at least i don’t look like a walking snow cone!”

his mouth falls open, blue eyes wide with pure, unfiltered rage. for a moment, he just stares at you, like he can’t even process what you’ve just said.

then, with the air of a man who has lost everything, he lets out a long, exhausted sigh and stomps away, muttering under his breath about how this arrangement is going to kill him.

good.

you hope it does.

the next day, you arrive at his house with a plan. if you’re going to suffer through this nightmare, you’re dragging him down with you.

so you stride through the front yard like a queen arriving at her court, the tiny porcelain tea set clinking in your bag with each step. a plastic crown sits atop your head, slightly askew from the wind but still regal in its defiance.

your expression is the picture of authority as you set down your things, the miniature table unfolding beneath your hands with all the grandeur of a royal banquet being prepared.

“sit,” you command, voice dripping with the kind of entitlement that demands obedience.

satoru, standing barefoot in the grass with his wild white hair falling messily over his too-blue eyes, just blinks at you. then he tilts his head, gaze flicking between you, the tea set, and the absurd little chairs you’ve arranged.

“i’m not drinking imaginary tea,” he says flatly.

your smile is slow, syrupy sweet—too sweet, the kind that signals incoming disaster. “oh, but you are.”

he narrows his eyes, arms crossing over his chest. it’s a battle of wills, a silent exchange where neither of you so much as blink.

then, with the exaggerated sigh of a man facing his own execution, satoru flops onto the tiny chair, legs sprawled out, arms still folded like he’s being forced into some great injustice.

you nod in satisfaction, pouring the invisible tea with practiced elegance, your pinky raised just so. the delicate porcelain cup is extended toward him, an offering of peace—or, more accurately, an invitation to his suffering.

he takes it hesitantly, fingers curling around the dainty handle like it might shatter under his touch. then, in the most over-the-top display of mock refinement you’ve ever seen, he lifts it to his lips with the grace of a nobleman.

“ah, yes,” he drawls, eyes fluttering shut as he tilts his chin upward. “delicious. simply divine.”

your hum of approval is sharp as you sip from your own cup, matching his theatrics with an air of superiority. “good.”

the corner of his mouth twitches, his eyes peering at you over the rim of his cup, and you know—this isn’t over.

revenge comes swiftly.

the moment you step through the door, satoru is on you like a storm, all grabby hands and reckless energy, fingers locking around your wrist before you can so much as take off your shoes.

he yanks you forward with the force of a battlefield general rallying his troops, pale strands an untamed mess, sticking out in wild tufts like he’s been plotting for hours. there’s an unmistakable glint in his too-bright eyes, something electric, something that makes your stomach twist with impending doom.

you try to plant your feet, to demand an explanation, but he tugs harder, practically dragging you down the hallway like a man possessed.

“sit,” he commands, throwing his arm out with a flourish the second you cross the threshold into his room.

your gaze sweeps across the floor, and your stomach drops. an army—an entire army—is laid out before you, meticulously arranged in tight, strategic formations.

tiny soldiers stand at attention, their weapons poised for battle, knights lined up with their plastic swords raised high, towering mechs positioned like silent sentinels at the edges.

even a couple of dinosaurs lurk ominously in the back, their beady little eyes trained on the battlefield as if waiting for their cue to wreak havoc.

you swallow, suddenly aware of the tiny doll clutched in your hands—a delicate princess with golden curls, her dainty features carved into a permanent, gentle smile. she does not belong here.

satoru turns to you, the grin stretching across his face so wide it practically glows. “war,” he declares, voice heavy with self-satisfaction.

your fingers tighten around the doll. “… war?”

he nods, far too pleased with himself. “yeah. your princesses are under attack. they’re defenseless.” his head tilts, expression shifting into a mockery of pity, but the gleam in his eyes betrays him. “tragic, really.”

your lips press into a thin line, suspicion creeping in. “what happens if they lose?”

his grin sharpens. teeth. teeth everywhere. “they get executed.”

your gasp is immediate, theatrical, hands clutching your chest as if he’s personally driven a dagger through your heart. “executed?!”

satoru shrugs, the picture of nonchalance. “war’s brutal.”

your grip on the princess tightens, rage curling in your chest like a wildfire. the urge to flip his entire battlefield, to scatter his perfectly aligned soldiers like fallen leaves, is almost unbearable. you could end this before it even begins.

but then satoru smirks, slow and confident, tilting his head in that infuriating way that makes your blood boil. and just like that, losing is no longer an option.

and so, the war rages on.

tea party chaos one day, epic war games the next.

you haul out fancy tea sets, doilies, and plastic tiaras, daring him to squirm. he counters with action figures, spinning tragic tales to pin their doom on you.

you snatch his favorite snacks, munching with a glare; he traps you in marathons of your least-liked cartoon, smirking at every grimace.

playdates turn into battlegrounds, a clash of stubborn wills. you bake fake cookies; he chokes theatrically, flopping to the floor. he stages a war; you parade your princess dolls, decreeing peace to ruin his plans. neither of you yields.

yet somewhere amid tea-sipping and battle cries, the venom softens. it’s still a fight, but now it’s about who cracks a smile first. the worst days are quiet ones, no one to spar with. it’s not fun, but it’s not awful.

and maybe you don’t mind the challenge.

not that you’ll say it.

it hits like rain on a sunny day—sudden, uninvited. you didn’t plan to enjoy satoru’s chaos. but between the shouts and shoves, you laugh. he laughs too, not smug, but real, and your stomach flips, like maybe—maybe you didn’t hate him as much as you thought.

but your mom notices.

she always notices. when you come home from his house, she watches you extra close, her eyes sharp like when she’s trying to catch you sneaking extra cookies before dinner.

that night, when she brushes your hair, she doesn’t say it right away. her fingers are careful, gentle, but her voice is not. “remember, sweetheart, we don’t get too close to them.” it’s not a question. it’s a rule. the same kind of rule as don’t run with scissors or don’t talk to strangers—except this one hurts.

so the next day, you fix it. it should feel like something big is happening, like the sky should turn black and lightning should strike right between you, like the world should know this is the worst thing ever. but no. the stupid sun is still shining. the wind is still blowing. and the ugly little garden gnome by satoru’s front steps is still sitting there, laughing at you. it makes you want to kick it. but you can’t, because you have something more important to do.

“your hair is ugly.”

satoru’s head snaps up so fast you think he might get dizzy. “huh?!”

you cross your arms, lifting your chin like you totally mean it. “it’s so white. it looks like bird poop.”

there’s a long, long silence. satoru’s mouth hangs open, like he’s waiting for you to say just kidding! but you don’t. his hands ball into little fists at his sides, his face going all red—not the angry kind of red, but the kind that looks like he just swallowed a rock. “why are you being so mean?”

you look away. your chest feels all tight and weird, like when you’re about to cry but you can’t, because if you do, then it’s over. your mom’s voice rings in your head again— we don’t get too close to them. “ i was just bored.”

and just like that, everything breaks.

he stares at you like you just kicked his puppy. his stupid blue eyes get all shiny, like he might actually cry, and that makes you feel even worse. “but… but yesterday—”

he stops. his lips press together, and he swallows really hard, like there’s something stuck in his throat. then, before you can say anything else, before you can even take it back—he steps away.

“fine,” he says, and his voice sounds wobbly, like a popsicle stick bridge that’s about to snap. “i don’t care, anyway.”

but you know he does. because satoru always cares—loudly, annoyingly, in ways you don’t even understand yet. and for the first time ever, he turns away first. doesn’t yell, doesn’t push, doesn’t try to win.

he just leaves. and for some reason, that makes you want to cry more than anything in the whole wide world.

satoru didn’t talk to you after that day. not in the loud, teasing way he usually did, not in the begrudging, petty way you’d come to expect. not even when your dads gathered for the weekend barbecue, laughing over beers about how their kids had finally made peace.

you could feel his glare from across the yard, burning into your skin like a laser beam, but the second you turned to look, he was already stomping away, white hair bouncing with every step.

you’d won the war, hadn’t you? you should’ve felt victorious, you should’ve been skipping circles around him just to rub it in his stupid face. but instead, your stomach twisted up all weird, like you swallowed a rock—or maybe a whole pile of them.

and then, as if the universe had personally decided that your life wasn’t miserable enough, disaster struck.

the evening air was thick with the smell of damp dirt and fresh grass, but all you could smell was your impending doom.

your mother loomed over the flowerbed—or what was left of it. crushed petals and snapped stems lay scattered, a wreckage you caused. the porch light stretched her shadow, sharp and accusing, across the dirt. her arms were crossed, lips a thin line, but her eyes—piercing, soul-searing—made your stomach plummet.

you swallowed, glancing at the ruined flowers under your shoes. you’d only chased a butterfly, but—crunch—they were gone, and you were doomed.

“look at what you’ve done!”

your hands balled up, body rigid. “i’m sorry,” you mumbled, voice small, but she didn’t flinch.

she sighed, pinching her nose like you were her endless headache. “i work hard on this garden, and this is how you repay me?” her head shook, disappointment stinging like a slap. “these plants are my babies, and you trample them like you don’t belong here.”

…oh.

your breath snagged, heart stuttering. her babies? your chest clamped tight, ears buzzing, and it clicked—too perfectly. your mom’s lawn obsession, how you didn’t quite match your parents’ looks, your weird food quirks, her sighs, heavy with unspoken weight when she bragged about you to neighbors.

this was it.

you were adopted.

panic flared, wild and sharp. if she knew you’d cracked her secret, would she… return you? like a mismatched shirt shoved back to the store? would she ship you to some grim place where unwanted kids ate cold broccoli forever, no cookies, no warmth? no way. you wouldn’t let her.

you had to run.

before they could box up your stuff, before their soft, syrupy voices cooed, we’re sorry, sweetheart, it’s just not right. you’d need clothes, snacks, a flashlight—money? (where did money even come from?)—maybe a blanket. you could live in the woods, charm squirrels, nibble berries.

or you can find your real family.

maybe they were out there, longing for you. maybe you were a lost princess, a royal carriage just waiting to whisk you to a castle. maybe your true parents, rich and heartbroken, ached for their stolen kid. maybe this was your big break.

you had to get out.

you scanned the room—not yours, not anymore. glow-in-the-dark stars speckled the ceiling, stuffed animals slumped in the corner, soon someone else’s, someone who’d fit this family better. your throat tightened, but you shook it off. no time for tears. you had a mission.

you grabbed your pink backpack, stuffing it fast—three snacks, a hello kitty juice box for style, a flickering flashlight, and your stuffed bunny, because even runaways need a friend. it was heavier than you thought, tugging at your shoulders as you crept to the window. you nudged it open, wincing at the frame’s squeak. night air slipped in, whispering of adventure, maybe a real home.

but doubt crept in too.

not about running—that was still the plan. but the actual escaping? harder than it looked. your grand exit felt shaky, and you wondered if you were really built for this runaway life.

now, for the hardest part: actually leaving.

you climbed onto the windowsill, fingers gripping the edge as you looked down. it wasn’t that high… right? you just had to dangle, drop, land, and run. simple. foolproof.

you sucked in a breath and shifted forward, lowering yourself carefully, your feet searching for the ground—but it wasn’t there.

your legs kicked uselessly, toes barely brushing the wall, and for a humiliating ten seconds, you dangled there, flailing, before gravity made the decision for you.

with a yelp, you plummeted straight into the bushes, a sharp rustling of leaves accompanying your graceless fall. a dull pain shot up your arms, the sting of scraped skin making your eyes prick with tears, but you bit them back.

a true runaway does not cry! with all the dignity you could muster, you pushed yourself up, shaking off leaves and twigs, ready to make your grand escape—

“you look like an idiot.”

your breath caught in your throat. your stomach dropped.

oh no.

slowly, you turned your head, dread curling in your chest. and there he was, perched at his own window, elbows resting on the sill, white hair catching the fading sunlight. gojo satoru.

he had the nerve to look completely relaxed, chin resting in his palm, his stupidly bright blue eyes filled with unmistakable amusement.

he had been watching you.

“what are you doing?” he asked, voice laced with barely-contained laughter.

you straightened your backpack straps, shooting him a glare. ”leaving.”

“leaving where?”

“away.”

his head tilted slightly, studying you like you were the most ridiculous thing he’d ever seen. “that’s not an answer.”

ugh. always so annoying. always questioning everything. wait—why is he even trying to get you to explain yourself to him? this wasn’t his business!

you huffed, turning on your heel with a dramatic flip of your hair. "none of your business, satoru. goodbye forever."

you had barely taken four steps before the unmistakable sound of feet landing lightly on the pavement made you freeze.

your eyes widened. you turned back just in time to see him straightening up, brushing invisible dust from his pants, completely unbothered—because unlike you, he hadn’t fumbled his escape. no flailing, no tragic bush landing. just an effortless, cat-like jump from his window, as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

you clenched your fists. of course he made it look easy.

he fell into step beside you, hands buried deep in his pockets, his pace maddeningly unhurried, like he had nowhere else to be but right here, ruining your night.

it was infuriating how effortlessly he matched your pace—never rushing, never struggling, just there, lingering like an annoying ghost you couldn't shake in the darkness.

“you don’t even know where you’re going.”

his voice was light, almost teasing, but you caught the undertone of amusement laced beneath it.

you spun around so fast your backpack nearly smacked you in the face, eyes blazing as you glared up at him. “yes, i do.”

he didn’t even blink, just tilted his head, one white eyebrow arching with skepticism. “oh yeah? where?”

your mouth opened—then promptly shut. under the weight of his expectant gaze, your mind scrambled for an answer, something grand, something impressive, something that would prove you weren’t just some clueless kid storming off on a whim. but all that came out was a very unconvincing:

“...the forest.”

satoru pulled a face like you had just suggested something utterly pathetic. he actually wrinkled his nose. “lame,” he declared flatly. “if you’re running away, at least go somewhere cool.”

your eyes narrowed dangerously. “oh, and where would you go, genius?”

his expression shifted instantly, brightening with exaggerated thoughtfulness as he tapped a finger against his chin. he dragged the moment out, milking the attention for all it was worth, before finally grinning. “probably the moon. or mars. as long as it’s on space.”

you rolled your eyes so hard you nearly saw the inside of your skull. “be serious.”

“you be serious.”

“i am serious.”

“then why are you running away with just a backpack?”

you froze, shoulders snapping rigid. your fingers clenched around the straps of your backpack as heat crept up your face.

right. that.

you knew something about your plan felt slightly underdeveloped, but it wasn’t like you were going to admit that. you forced your expression into something defiant, lips parting to throw back a retort—but nothing came. because, well... he had a point.

“why do you even care?” you snapped instead, turning the conversation away from your failure. “just go back inside and leave me alone!”

he shrugged, completely unaffected by your growing irritation. “nah. watching you fail at running away is way more fun.”

your jaw clenched so tight it ached.

you should have known he’d be a problem.

but you were determined. you were going to run away, and there was nothing gojo satoru could do about it.

you slung your backpack higher, stomping down the street, ignoring the patter of footsteps dogging you. maybe speed would shake him, but no—satoru’s smirk followed, wide and smug, like your escape was his evening show.

you sped up. he kept pace. you crawled; he mirrored, whistling a tune that clawed at your nerves.

hours dragged—maybe two, but each step burned eternal with him bouncing beside you, white hair aglow under streetlights, practically engineered to irk you. at first, you’d burned with purpose—flee your mom’s scolds, her heavy sighs, and start fresh, maybe in a city, baking in some cozy shop.

now? your legs screamed, feet pulsing. regret piled high, and you just wanted to collapse.

“i’m hungry,” satoru whined, his voice grating, lips twitching with mischief.

you groaned, dragging slower. “shut up, satoru,” you muttered, exhaustion coating your words, shoulders slumping.

“no!” he snapped. “this is your fault! you should’ve at least rode a bike if you were gonna run away like a loser!”

“i’m not a loser!” you shot back, voice wobbling, defensive. your glare faltered under his teasing glint.

he sidled closer, face moonlit, mischief dancing in his eyes. “you kinda are. only losers run away and don’t even know where they’re going.”

your cheeks flared. “i do know where i’m going!” you insisted, but doubt gnawed. the dream of running was souring fast.

he arched a brow, smirk widening. “oh yeah? where?”

you froze, scanning the dark—nothing. words failed. “…” you mumbled, purpose fraying.

satoru’s smug hum stung, his grin widening as he stood, hands on hips, relishing your fluster. “exactly. loser.”

you huffed, stomping toward the park’s swings. “whatever. let’s just sit.” annoyance masked relief as you sank onto a seat, sighing into the quiet night.

satoru flopped beside you, stretching with a groan. “ugh, finally. thought my legs were gonna fall off.” his white hair spilled over the swing’s chain, catching moonlight like a mocking halo.

you rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt, the swing creaking under your shifting weight. “stop being so dramatic.” your fingers gripped the cold metal chains, grounding you as a breeze rustled the leaves overhead.

“says the one who ran away over some flowers,” satoru shot back, kicking his legs lazily, bunny slippers scuffing the dirt. his smirk glinted, sharp in the dim light.

“says the one who followed me,” you snapped, arms crossed tight. damp grass and metal tinged the air, his stare prickling even without a glance.

he grinned, shameless, leaning to sway the swing. “well, yeah. what else was i supposed to do? let you get eaten by raccoons?” his brows wiggled, voice thick with fake worry.

you stiffened, rigid against the creaky seat. “…there are no raccoons here.” your tone held firm, but your eyes flicked to the shadowy bushes, doubt nibbling.

“are you sure?” he tilted his head, blue eyes twinkling, finger tapping his chin to stretch your unease.

you froze—breath catching. the night yawned wider, leaves rustling too lively.

he leaned closer, voice a mock whisper. “you know, i heard they sneak up on dumb kids who run away.” his breath grazed your ear, swing rocking as he shifted.

your fingers clamped the chains, knuckles pale. “you’re lying.” your voice wavered, small against the vast park.

he gasped, clutching his chest, eyes wide with fake shock. “why would i lie to you?” he flailed, nearly tipping the swing, slippers flopping.

“because you’re you!” you shoved his shoulder, steadying the creaking metal. an owl hooted, siding with you.

“fair point.” he shrugged, grin lazy, settling back as the swing slowed. crickets hummed, playground groaning softly.

you kicked his shin—hard. “ow—hey!” he yelped, rubbing it, hair bouncing as he glared.

“you deserved it.” you huffed, chin high, swing swaying gently, cooling your flush.

“did not!”

“did too!”

“did not—ugh, whatever, i’m too hungry to argue,” satoru groaned, flopping against the swing, hand splaying over his stomach. “feed me.” he batted his lashes, moonlight catching his mischief.

you scrunched your nose, leaning back. “excuse me?“

“you packed snacks, right?” he flicked a finger at your bag. “hand ‘em over.” his palm opened, expectant.

“why should i?” you hugged the bag tight, zipper glinting.

“because i followed you and kept you safe from raccoons.” he puffed his chest, slippers swinging with smugness.

you scowled, lips thin. “you were literally just saying you wanted me to get eaten by them.”

“so? didn’t let it happen.” he shrugged, teeth flashing, chains rattling as he leaned in.

“ugh,” you groaned, yanking the bag off, unzipping it sharply. “fine, only so you shut up.”

you pulled out a biscuit, fingers brushing his as you dropped it in his palm. he stared at it, then you, jaw dropping. “…are you serious?”

you smirked, leaning back. “take it or leave it.”

he grumbled but bit in, crunch loud in the stillness. silence settled, heavy, until he swallowed. “gimme another one.” crumbs dusted his fingers, eyes glinting.

you scoffed, loud and dramatic, head thrown back like he’d demanded your soul. “absolutely not.”

“c’monnnn, i’m starving.” he whined, slumping forward, elbows on knees, white hair flopping over his pouty face, moonlight amplifying the ridiculousness.

“too bad. should’ve brought your own food.” you shot back, sticking out your tongue.

“i would’ve if you actually planned this runaway properly.” he muttered, crossing his arms, mimicking your huff.

“ugh! just be grateful i even shared at all!”

“pfft. what else do you got?” he asked, leaning toward your bag, curiosity undimmed.

you glared through the dim light. “nothing.” your lie was sharp, hugging the bag tight, the hello kitty juice box now a state secret.

satoru’s grin turned wicked, teeth glinting. “liar. you have a juice box, don’t you?” he leaned closer, breath teasingly warm.

your fingers dug into the fabric, heart tripping. “no.” your voice wavered, face turning away as the swing creaked.

“you totally do.”

“do not.”

“you do.”

“do not.”

“oh yeah? then what’s this?” he lunged, snatching your bag and unzipping it in one swift move.

“hey!” you yelped, diving, but he twisted away, laughing as he held it high.

“aha! knew it!” he crowed, waving the hello kitty juice box like a prize, pink design flashing in the moonlight. he leaped from the swing, chains clattering.

your face burned, horror spiking. “PUT THAT BACK!” you shrieked, lunging, but he danced away, cackling through the empty park.

satoru spun, keeping it out of reach. “oh? what’s wrong? embarrassed about your cute little juice?” he taunted, dodging your flailing hands.

“shut up! give it back!” you swiped, slippers skidding, but he sidestepped effortlessly.

“hmmm… nah,” he said, popping the straw in with flair and sipping dramatically. “mmm, tastes like victory.” he leaned against the swing pole, smirking.

you gasped, betrayal hitting hard. “YOU. DID. NOT.” your voice shook, fists clenched.

“i did,” he smirked, sipping again. “mmm. strawberry.” he twirled the box, straw bobbing.

rage narrowed your vision. “GOJO SATORU, I HOPE YOU CHOKE!” you roared, tackling him off the swing, both crashing to the dirt.

satoru yelped, hitting the ground with you on top, a tangle of fury. “OW—YOU MANIAC, GET OFF ME!” he flailed, slippers flying, juice box rolling free.

“GIVE IT BACK, THIEF!” you snarled, pinning his arms, reaching for your prize, hair falling in your face.

“I HOPE YOU CHOKE, SATORU!” you yelled, snatching at the box as he squirmed, laughing through indignation.

“JOKES ON YOU, I ALREADY SWALLOWED!” he wheezed, bucking beneath you, hair now dirt-dusted.

“YOU’RE A MONSTER!” you shrieked, shoving his chest, betrayal stinging sharp.

“AND YOU’RE A GREMLIN!” he shot back, twisting, nearly toppling you, voice cracking with laughter.

“THAT WAS MY JUICE!” you wailed, grabbing the box, clutching it like a lifeline, breath heaving.

“IT’S OUR JUICE NOW!” he argued, propped on elbows, grinning like he’d won. your elbow accidentally jabbed his ribs.

“OWWW!” he howled, flopping back, clutching his side theatrically, rolling in mock agony. “THIS IS IT. I’M DYING.”

you froze, juice box dangling, blinking down. “…what?” your voice softened, anger fading.

satoru whimpered, curling up, eyes squeezed shut for effect. “you got me. this is the end. tell my mom i love her. tell your mom i don’t love her. tell my dad he owes me twenty bucks.” he peeked one eye, gauging you, breath hitching.

your heart stuttered—he was faking, clearly, but doubt whispered: what if? tears pricked as you sniffled. “satoru, you idiot!” you choked, voice wobbling, “you can’t die! who am i gonna fight with if you die?!” you dropped beside him, dirt cold.

“i dunno…” he groaned, head lolling, faint and pitiful. “maybe get a pet goldfish. name it satoru junior.”

“but i don’t want a goldfish!”

“too bad… this is fate…” he wheezed, going limp, playing dead.

“shut up! shut up, stupid! you’re not allowed to die!” you cried, throwing yourself onto him, hugging tight, tears soaking his shirt.

satoru wailed, chest shaking, real tears mixing with fake. “ow, ow, ow! you’re squishing me!” he pushed at your shoulders.

“I’M SORRY, OKAY?! I DIDN’T MEAN TO KILL YOU!” you sobbed, hugging harder.

“YOU’RE KILLING ME RIGHT NOW! STOP HUGGING ME SO TIGHT!” he wailed, kicking, feet smacking dirt.

“DON’T DIIIIE!”

“I WON’T IF YOU GET OFF ME, YOU GREMLIN!”

“PROMISE?!”

“YES! I PROMISE!” he shouted, hoarse, flopping back in defeat.

“PINKY PROMISE?!” you pressed, holding out your trembling pinky.

“I CAN’T PINKY PROMISE IF YOU’RE CRUSHING ME, LOSER!” he snapped, tears streaming, hair sticking to his dirt-smeared face.

eventually, your sobs calmed into sniffles—your grip loosening as exhaustion took over. satoru’s cries faded into tired little hiccups, his chest still rising and falling fast beneath you. the playground settled back into quiet, the night wrapping around you like a heavy, damp cloak.

you fell asleep with him right there, sprawled across the cold playground floor, too worn out to move. you curled up against satoru, your face smushed into his shoulder, your breath evening out into soft, snotty snores. satoru, despite all his whining, let an arm flop lazily over you, his own snores mixing with yours as drool pooled between you.

your dads found you like that, a tangled heap of dirt and tears under the moonlight.

“oh, for fuck’s sake.” your dad muttered, rubbing his face with a tired hand, his voice rough with exasperation. he stood there, hands on his hips, staring down at the mess you’d made of yourselves.

“wait, wait,” satoru’s dad whispered, already fumbling for his phone, a grin tugging at his lips despite the late hour. “we have to take a picture.” he crouched down, angling the camera to catch the full disaster—your drooling face, satoru’s sprawled limbs, the abandoned juice box lying pitifully in the dirt nearby. the flash went off, immortalizing the chaos, and the night carried on, oblivious to the two little warriors who’d fought themselves to sleep.

the morning after your playground disaster hits like a dodgeball to the face, jolting you awake with your dad’s laugh booming through the walls, drowning out the birds chirping meanly outside. you blink against sunlight stabbing through your blinds, legs caught in sheets, and stumble out of bed in messy pajamas—one sleeve drooping, hair a wild puff.

you shuffle downstairs, steps creaking, eyes gummy with sleep, and freeze. there, on the mantle, sits the awful proof—you and satoru, a muddy pile under broken monkey bars, drool on your face, his arm flopped over you, both smeared with dirt and chaos.

your dad’s laugh erupts again, shaking the couch as he slaps his knee, grinning huge.

“look at you two! thick as thieves!” he hollers, wiping a tear, his flannel stretching tight.

you squeak—a whiny, horrified sound—hands flying to your face. “it’s so gross!” you wail, voice muffled, peeking at the photo—your drooly cheek squished against satoru’s shoulder—and step back, foot scuffing the floor. “burn it, pleeease!”

“oh no you don’t.” your mom snaps from the kitchen, stirring coffee like she’s brewing a curse, burnt toast smog around her. her glare could zap you dead. “running off over flowers—with that gojo boy? you’re lucky you’re not grounded forever.”

you cringe, twisting your fingers, shoulders curling.

“aw, honey,” your dad chuckles, sipping juice, all calm. “she was just eloping with satoru a little early—gotta practice for the real thing!”

“don’t encourage her!” your mom barks, slamming her mug, coffee splashing, eyes flicking to satoru’s mom’s smug hydrangeas outside.

you whine, flopping against the wall. “i’m running away forever!” you mumble into your sleeve, sun warming your pout as your mom mutters—“that boy’s trouble”—her spoon clinking angrily..

next door, satoru’s trapped in his own morning horror, stomping into the kitchen, fuzzy blue slippers squeaking on tile. he freezes, blue eyes popping wide, and jabs a finger at the framed photo wobbling by the toaster—same drooly wreck, same muddy faces, a twin to your nightmare.

“rip it up!” he wails, voice cracking like he’s auditioning for tragedy, arms windmilling wildly, nearly toppling a mug. “i look like a zombie!”

his dad leans back in his chair, coffee mug in hand, completely unmoved, a lazy grin tugging at his lips as he reaches over with a broad hand.

“aw, come on,” he chuckles, ruffling satoru’s already doomed hair until the strands rebel further, flopping into his face like a snowy avalanche. “you two are inseparable—gonna tell this story at your wedding one day.”

satoru shrieks, staggering back, knocking a spoon to the floor with a clatter. “noooo! she tried to murder me!” he howls, clutching his head like it’s about to explode, hair flying as he thrashes.

his mom sips tea at the sink, sunhat tilted primly, lips smirking sharp. “if he even survives her chaos,” she murmurs, swirling her tea with a clink, “she’s a tornado.”

satoru wails louder, flopping against the fridge, face squished in despair. “my life’s ruined!” he whines, kicking the floor, sock drooping, as warm bread’s scent mixes with his sulky gloom.

satoru groans, long and dramatic, dragging his hands down his face until his cheeks puff out, his slippers scuffing as he spins to glare at the photo again—his drool-glossed lips parted, your muddy handprint on his shirt—and flops against the fridge with a thud.

“i’m never living this down,” he mutters, voice muffled as the fridge hums behind him, the scent of warm bread from the toaster oven curling around his misery while he kicks at the floor, his sock slipping further down his ankle.

outside, the hydrangeas bob in the breeze like they’re in on the joke, a silent audience to the disaster unfolding on either side of the fence. watering plants shouldn’t be this chaotic, but with satoru involved, everything turns into a summer storm—the air already thick with cicadas and the sharp, damp scent of upturned earth.

your mom shoves the hose into your hands, coffee sloshing dangerously as she snaps ”don’t let him ruin my tulips” before vanishing inside, the screen door slamming behind her like a warning shot.

you trudge out in your slippers—ratty pink ones with a half-peeled bunny face—squinting against the sun as it beats down, smug and unrelenting, like it’s waiting for you to crack first.

and there he is.

satoru slinks across the yard like a villain caught mid-scheme, dragging his hose behind him, the green coil snagging on every patch of grass. his eyes—bright, sharp, unfairly blue—lock onto yours over the fence, mischief sparking in them like a lit fuse. his hair’s a mess of white strands flopping over his forehead, one fuzzy slipper kicking at the dirt as he straightens, grin already in place.

“your dad’s a jerk for framing that,” you snap, twisting the nozzle with a jerk—only to spray your own shin, cold water seeping into your pajama pants. you scowl.

“yours too, idiot,” he fires back, voice dripping with faux innocence as he angles his hose, misting your toes with deliberate precision. the droplets glitter like tiny knives in the sunlight. “now everyone’s gonna think we’re friends.”

“jerk!” you yelp, and retaliate, your aim wild but effective—water arcs straight for his chest, drenching his stupid oversized shirt until it clings to him, fabric going sheer in patches.

he barks a laugh, half-shielding himself with the hose like it’s a sword, free hand swiping wet hair from his eyes. “hey! watch it—”

the air crackles with spray and tension, the sun casting long, warped shadows of you both across the grass. your mom’s voice slices through from the porch: “keep it civil!”—coffee cup in hand, frown sharp enough to cut.

his mom’s shout follows, sunhat bobbing as she leans over the railing. “watch my sod!”

“like i’d ruin her precious grass,” you mutter, rolling your eyes as you redirect the hose toward your tulips, water pooling around them like a makeshift moat.

“you would if you could aim,” satoru taunts, leaning forward, smirk widening as his hose dangles, dripping onto his already-wrecked slipper.

“shut up,” you hiss, flicking another spray—just enough to make him hop back with a squelch.

“oi!”

you bite your lip to hide the grin, turning away before he sees it.

later, through your window, the day fades into gold, and you catch him pacing his room, backlit by the dying light like some dramatic silhouette. he flips you off—long fingers splayed, wrist twisting with unnecessary flair—before yanking the blinds shut, hair flopping like a defeated flag.

you press your nose to the glass, fogging it with your breath as you stick out your tongue. “loser.”

outside, the cicadas drone on, relentless. across the gap, you can feel him glaring at his own window, probably plotting his next move—all sharp eyes and slouched shoulders, one slipper abandoned in defeat.

you wouldn’t expect anything less.

somehow, that’s the point.

summer lingers, sticky and slow, your mornings a ritual of traded barbs across the fence—his smirk sharp, your eye-roll sharper. but the days stretch, and the battles blur, until the leaves hint at gold, and your dads' voices boom, calling you both to the yard like it’s time to rewrite the rules.

then—almost without warning—the air turns crisp. the hydrangeas fade from vibrant blue to dull brown, their petals curling like old paper, while the maple out back erupts in flames of red and orange. one morning you wake to find the grass glittering with frost, your breath fogging the window as you peer out at the changed world.

fall sweeps in with crisp air nipping at your cheeks, golden leaves crunching underfoot like nature’s tiny applause, and the dads declare it barbecue season with all the gusto of backyard kings.

they drag mismatched lawn chairs—wobbly legs and faded stripes—into your yard, smoke curling from the grill in lazy spirals, the scent of charred burgers doing a clumsy tango with your mom’s lavender bushes, their purple heads bobbing in the breeze.

you step outside, the grass cool against your slippers, and spot that cursed photo—yes, that one—propped dead center on the picnic table like a first-place ribbon from your playground disaster, its tacky gold frame glinting in the late afternoon sun.

your dad chuckles “look at our little warriors!”—his voice a rumble as he clinks a soda can with satoru’s dad, the aluminum clank sharp against the fire pit’s crackle. he leans back in his chair, flannel stretched tight over his belly, grinning like he’s just told the joke of the year.

satoru’s dad nods, sipping his own soda with a smirk. “bet they’ll run this neighborhood someday,” he says, his laugh booming over the snap of burning logs, the firelight dancing in his glasses.

your mom’s mouth thins into a tight line, a silent protest as she crosses her arms, muttering “over-fertilized nonsense” at the hydrangeas peeking over the fence like nosy neighbors. her eyes narrow, sharp as the lavender’s scent, while satoru’s mom hums louder—a smug little tune—pruning her bushes with a snip-snip of her shears, each cut a tiny victory carved into the air.

you and satoru are squeezed onto a rickety bench, paper plates wobbling precariously between your knees, the wood creaking like it’s begging for mercy.

he elbows you hard—his bony arm jabbing your side—making your soda fizz over the rim in a bubbly hiss, and you scrunch your nose, glaring at him through the corner of your eye.

“this is your fault,” you hiss, shoving him back with a quick nudge, ketchup smearing your fingers like war paint as your plate tilts dangerously.

“nah, yours framed it first,” he retorts, flicking a fry at your face—his long fingers quick and precise, his blue eyes glinting with mischief as it sails through the air.

you catch it mid-flight with a snap of your hand, popping it into your mouth with a defiant crunch. “good, hope they frame it in the hallway,” you snap, your pout deepening as you chew, glaring at his smug face.

“hope you get detention,” he mutters, leaning closer, his white hair flopping forward like a messy curtain, a lazy grin tugging at his lips.

“hope you get ketchup in your eye,” you fire back, flicking your stained fingers at him—he flinches just a bit, his smirk faltering for a split second.

you shove him again, a quick push with your shoulder, and he shoves back, his slipper brushing your leg—your plate flips onto your lap with a sad plop, ketchup splattering your shorts like a crime scene.

“ugh, you’re the worst!” you yelp, smearing a dollop of ketchup onto his arm—his t-shirt sleeve now a canvas of red streaks—and you pout harder, lips trembling with mock fury.

“you’re welcome!” he laughs, snagging a fry from the mess on your lap with a quick swipe, popping it into his mouth with a grin that shows too many teeth, his cheeks dimpling.

“quit stealing my food!” you snap, swatting at his hand—your fingers barely graze him as he dodges, leaning back on the bench like he’s king of the chaos, his fuzzy blue slippers swinging lightly.

“it’s payment for sitting next to you,” he says, stretching his arms behind his head, his t-shirt riding up just enough to show a sliver of his stomach as he smirks, daring you to argue.

your mom’s glare from the porch could melt steel—she stands there, arms crossed, a shadow against the sunset—while his mom’s pruning pauses, her shears glinting as she shoots you both a look that screams behave, her sunhat tilting like a crown of judgment.

you huff, plotting to fling a pickle slice at his head, your fingers itching to grab one from your ruined plate. but the dusk sky turns orange behind your petty war, painting the yard in a warm glow, and you settle for glaring instead, your slippers scuffing the grass beneath the bench.

you slip away to the tire swing after dinner, the oak’s gnarled branches casting long shadows across the grass. the rope groans under your grip as you push off, bare ankles brushing cool blades of grass. the distant crackle of the fire pit fades behind you, replaced by the whisper of leaves overhead.

of course he follows.

pebbles skitter against your shins, each one a tiny declaration of war. you don’t have to look to know he’s smirking—can picture the way his slippers scuff against dirt with deliberate laziness. when you finally glance back, the dying light catches in his eyes, turning them electric. his hair glows like embers, white strands lit from within.

“quit it!” you snap, swatting at nothing as another stone finds its mark. your fingers tighten around the rope, knuckles going pale.

“make me,” he dares, and suddenly he’s there, long fingers wrapping around the rope. the world tilts violently as he spins you, your stomach lurching into your throat. his laughter cuts through the dizzying whirl—bright, sharp, dangerous.

“you’re gonna kill me!” the words tear free as colors blur into streaks, one slipper dangling precariously from your toes.

“maybe then you’ll stop hogging the swing!” the rope slips from his grasp, sending you wobbling to an unsteady stop. He rocks back on his heels, hands shoved deep in pockets, grin wide enough to split his face.

you’re moving before the world stops spinning—launching yourself at him with a wordless shout. you collide in a tangle of limbs, rolling through crushed grass and fallen leaves. the earth smells rich and damp beneath you, filling your lungs with each gasping breath.

from the porch, your dads’ voices carry across the yard, “there they go again!” their applause ringing through the twilight. firelight dances in their raised soda cans, painting their grinning faces in flickering gold.

your mom’s groan cuts through the celebration. “not again.”

satoru’s mother’s shriek follows, “not my sod!”

you come to rest with him pinned beneath you, knees digging into soft earth. “say sorry!” you demand, hair wild around your face. your breath comes in quick puffs, stirring the strands that have escaped into your eyes.

“never!” he gasps between laughter, his whole body shaking with it. one blue slipper hangs half-off his foot, swinging uselessly as he squirms. his eyes crinkle at the corners, bright with challenge even as he lies trapped in the grass.

later, when the fire’s burned low to embers and your dad shoves a half-melted popsicle between you with a gruff “sharing’s caring,” you could scream.

satoru takes the first bite—obnoxiously loud, teeth cracking through the ice—and his mouth goes instantly blue. “tastes better stolen,” he declares, tongue swiping at a drip sliding down his wrist. his hair’s a mess of white strands falling into his eyes, backlit by the dying firelight like some kind of haloed menace.

“you’re disgusting,” you mutter, yanking the popsicle back. the cold burns your teeth when you bite down, but you force your scowl to stay put, even as your slippers swing uselessly from your toes.

“and you like it,” he sing-songs, leaning in so close you can smell the sugar on his breath. his tongue’s still stained, lolling out in a way that should be gross but just makes your fingers itch to shove him.

so you do.

one sharp push to his chest sends him sprawling into the grass with a soft oof. “dream on,” you snap, but he’s already laughing, arms splayed like he’s making snow angels in the dirt, gaze fixed on the purpling sky.

dusk settles around you both, thick with woodsmoke and the lazy chirp of crickets. your pout falters—just for a second—when the popsicle’s sweetness hits your tongue again. across the yard, the fire pit’s glow paints long shadows that dance over his grin when you sneak a glance, already scheming. always scheming.

by the time you drag yourself inside, the night’s gone quiet save for the memory of his laughter, clinging like burrs to your thoughts. the stars blink down, sealing your truce—or your war—in their cool, indifferent light.

the years blur like a popsicle melting under a summer sun, sticky and sweet, your battles with satoru piling up like crumpled homework in a backpack—each one louder, messier, sharper.

sixth grade drags you into school’s squeaky halls, where lockers slam and whispers sting, and satoru’s there, always, his white hair flopping, his lanky frame shooting up overnight like a weed that won’t quit. he towers over you by spring, his sneakers scuffing the linoleum as he leans too close, smirking “shorty” while flicking your forehead—his voice cracks mid-taunt, a squeaky betrayal that makes you cackle, water spraying from your bottle like a victory fountain across his shirt.

you chase him through the cafeteria, trays wobbling, your laughter bouncing off the walls as he trips over his own gangly legs, his blue eyes wide with mock outrage. your moms’ war rages on—hers with her smug wind chimes, yours with that chipped gnome glaring from the lawn—while you and Satoru hurl insults over the fence, hoses flailing, your shadows tangling longer now, stretching into dusk like a sloppy braid that won’t untie.

but the walks home, your backpacks swinging, his slippers squishing, carry a rhythm neither of you name—a truce woven into scuffs and shoves, your glares softening when no one’s looking, the cicadas humming like they’re in on it.

middle school crashes in like a rogue wave, and satoru’s growth spurt turns him into a walking skyscraper, his arms too long, his grin too wide, his voice settling into a teasing lilt that makes your stomach flip in ways you won’t admit.

you’re still elbowing him in the ribs, still dodging his paint-flecked flicks in art class, but now he’s stealing your fries at lunch, his long fingers snatching them with a lazy “tax for sitting here” while you kick his shin under the table.

the block parties keep coming, your dads clinking beers and shouting “teamwork!” as you and satoru spill lemonade, tumble into grass, and wrestle over the last popsicle—his blue-stained tongue lolling out as he pins you, your shriek loud enough to scare the crickets.

yet something’s shifting, soft as the breeze rustling new leaves—you catch him staring once, his ears pink, his smirk faltering when you shove him off the tire swing, and your own cheeks burn when he lingers too close, his shadow swallowing yours. through your glass window, he’s still tossing that rubber ball—thunk-thunk—his frame filling the frame now, his grin flashing across the gap like a sparkler you can’t look away from.

you mutter “he’s so annoying” into your pillow, but your lips twitch, your glow-in-the-dark stars winking above, and the night hums with a truth neither of you will say: you’re magnets, doomed to clash, bound to stick, your war softening into something that glows brighter than the summer sun.

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itostea · 1 year ago

Text

my first & last love (gojo x reader)

satoru realizes he's in love with you after you suggest he set you up with suguru

tags: fem! reader, Gojo praises you like A LOT! slight miscommunications, childhood friends to lovers, reader gets drunk & satoru helps, he's a lovesick idiot & dramatic, both yours & his pov, gojo’s implied to be taller than reader, slightly suggestive bc it’s gojo, slight angst

word count: 11k

The first time Gojo Satoru learned true, unadulterated jealousy was on a Friday night out in his sports car–the crickets chirping to the melody of a random song.

It was real jealousy—not just simple, petty envy. Not like the envy he felt when someone got to taste the limited edition cupcakes at the bakery before he did or the envy of studying hard and getting a lower score than someone who didn’t (which is a lie because Gojo was that very person who was effortlessly good at everything he did).

Either way, he’s never felt the bite of jealousy, breaking the flesh as blood drips slowly, lingering as if it could never be washed away from his skin. Never felt it smother his throat with needles and leave him with a metallic taste in his mouth. That is, until today.

It was colder than usual but he still insisted on grabbing some ice-cream from the local convenience store, declaring it was his your reward for putting up with the party Sukuna hosted–the same party that ended in your dress being soaked in vomit. The atmosphere was perfect for sentiment, for talking–for confessing.

You’re humming to the beat of the song, licking your lips clean of the ice cream you just ate. “Satoru,” you murmur his name softly, staring at him through your lashes.

“Yeah?” His eyes drink in the sight of you: your droopy eyes from sleep, the faded lip tint on your lips, the hoodie he let you borrow that’s obviously a few sizes too big on you. There’s hardly any light coming in but he can still feel your eyes on him, the tension so thick he thinks he might suffocate from it.

For a moment, he’s scared, fearful of what you were going to say because he knows this silence. This is the very silence that happens before someone confesses to him, the same suspense that he has to mentally prepare himself for since he knew he was going to break another heart. And he’s terrified that he might have to do it to you–his friend, his neighbor, someone who he’s known for a very long time.

“I need to tell you something,” you start and he winces, shifting uncomfortably on the driver’s seat.

“You do?” He mutters. You’re nervous. He can tell because he’s known you long enough to understand what you’re feeling–long enough to know that your eyes are darting from place to place, a habit of yours.

His chest squeezes when you take a deep breath just as he exhales, already making his mind to grant you a swift rejection. He hopes you can forgive him after this.

“--I like Getou and I need your help.”

“Listen, I’m sorry but I just don’t see you that way–”

He blinks, wondering if he heard you right or if he was drunk (he didn’t drink at the party because he was your ride home). “Wait what?”

It was your turn to blink now. “I like Getou and I–”

“I heard you the first time,” he cuts you off hastily, clearing his throat to play it cool. He runs a hand through his hair, grazing the side of his undercut. “Okay wow.”

Gojo mentally curses himself for not knowing what else to say other than humming pensively, busying himself by mixing the ice-cream in the tiny container. He still needs time to process, to mentally upload your words to his brain. You like Getou and not him? He pauses, repeating that thought again.

You like Getou and not him. Part of him tells himself that this is exactly what he wanted since your friendship wouldn’t go to ruin. You managed not to catch feelings for him–managed not to fall for him like many others. Yet, he’s confused when another part of him doesn’t respond too well once he realizes that this was you he was dealing with.

“That’s not weird right?” You question, bringing your knees up to your chest and propping your chin atop of them to watch his reaction–reminding him to keep it cool.

“Nah it’s not weird at all,” he said, not thinking straight when his next words escaped his lips. “So why Suguru?” And not me? Though, he keeps that last part to himself.

“Well isn’t it obvious? He’s tall, handsome, and has a good personality.”

Am I not that? He asks himself, not bothered by how stuck up he may seem. “That’s not very specific from someone who likes him.”

You huff and he can tell you’re narrowing your eyes at him. “I know you don’t wanna hear me yap about the specifics, Satoru.”

“I do.” He says quickly.

You make a noise of surprise, looking interested in his sudden intrigue. “Well okay… Suguru’s very caring and attentive. Being around him makes me feel warm inside you know? I’m not sure when I started liking him but I just know that I just really want to be closer to him. And it doesn’t help that he’s just so smart and nice. And his looks are just a bonus.”

“Oh,” he utters, not even bothering to curse himself for his lack of response. He tries a weak smile. “You must really like him.”

Gojo can’t help but furrow his brows at the semi-embarrassed expression you wear—as if you were flustered at the mere thought of having a crush. “Oh, was I that obvious?” You ask, not even bothering to deny the fact that you were undoubtedly head over heels for his best friend.

Oh god, he thinks he might be sick and he doesn’t know why.

“Are you going to help me?” Your voice cuts him out of his reverie and he’s cut back into reality–the reality being the anticipation in your eyes. Did you always look this pretty?

Gojo nearly flinches at the thoughts that cross his mind, blaming the unprocessed shock for being the cause of these obscure ideas. He coughs. “Hold on. So you don’t like me right?”

“What? No I–” your eyes widen in understanding. “Oh so that’s what that was all about. You thought the person I liked was you! How cocky can you be to think everyone’s in love with you?”

“It’s not cocky if it’s true. I’m just really lovable y’know?”

You let out a sarcastic laugh. “That can’t be true since I’m not everyone.”

I know, he thinks to himself, staying silent as he watches you shuffle in your seat. He didn’t just dislike this idea you proposed, he hated it. It wasn’t hard to just decline and keep it like that–let you figure your feelings on your own.

Yet, something about the near-pleading look in your eyes made him reconsider and it filled him with an urge to smooth the wrinkles on your expression. He sighs loudly, rubbing the invisible crease in between his brows. “Well I guess you came to the right person because I’m an expert at this. 5 star ratings and all that. But what makes you think I’m going to do this for free?”

“Uh the goodness of your heart?”

“Cute,” he laughs. “But no. I want a coffee from the place everyday for a month.”

“What?! Are you insane? That means I’d have to wake up early everyday to get in line!”

He shakes his head, waving his finger around with a disappointed expression. “A small price for love.”

“I don’t understand why you even need me for that. You can buy the whole shop yourself, ass,” you whisper the last part behind your palm, making his eyes light up in amusement.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Actually you know what? Fine,” you huff. “You’re right. It is a small price for love. But I’m not walking back and forth around campus to deliver your coffee.”

“I got that covered,” he grins, already coming up with a plan in his head. He likes this, the banter you two typically enjoyed. It made your duo, a duo. In a normal situation, he’d relax and continue bothering you. Still, the feeling of dread gnaws at his throat and he tries to swallow it–tries to ignore it by pretending to be the same, goofy Gojo you’re used to. And he’s starting to think it’s hard to do that when you look up at him with such genuine gratitude.

“Satoru.”

“Hm?”

“Thank you, I mean it.”

Gojo feels that emotion again, that visceral feeling where he might go sick and vomit all over the car. “Yeah.”

He thinks he would’ve preferred if you confessed to him instead.

Gojo wonders if stress (if you can call that) is enough to make someone wake up with a hangover the next day. He didn’t drink last night but he thinks he might have–considering the headache that was interrupting his morning.

He’s in the middle of downing a glass of water when his phone buzzes, your name popping up as a notification.

(Name): i’m gonna get ur coffee pls come

Him: come ??? cum

(Name): it’s too early to be doing this

He sees the bubbles appear before they disappear for a while, only popping up again when he’s in the middle of cracking an egg over the pan

(Name): SATORU

(Name): OHMYGOD SATORY SOI SOS

Him: WHAT

Him: HELLO???

(Name): GETOUS HERE OMG IM GONNA

(Name): HE SAID HI TO ME

(Name): WHAT DO I DO?

Gojo grips his phone a bit tighter, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. He sighs.

Him: say hi back

Him: and then go PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

(Name): no wtf and i meant what do i after this silly

(Name): i don’t know what to do im literally an npc rn

(Name): jk he just said bye :(

Him: should’ve done what i told u to do

Another name pops up from the top and his eyes scan the name, his brows raising in curiosity. He huffs at the message, feeling a wave of nausea cross him.

Suguru: You’re close friends with (Name) right?

Him: yeah why

Suguru: Nothing

It’s silent for a few seconds and Gojo’s back to eating his eggs, tempted to pop a Tylenol to ease the growing headache. Contrary to popular belief, he was against the reliance of pain-relieving meds, opting to let his body figure things out on its own. Luckily for him, having food in his stomach was enough to relieve the headache.

His mind wanders back to the night in the car where you told him to help you with your crush on his best friend–not fully coming to terms with the fact that he wished you liked him instead. Since when did he start feeling this way and why did he need another man to make him realize he liked or even loved you? The thought of anyone having you for themselves was like hearing the sound of nails against a chalkboard and he was jealous. He finally admitted it.

Gojo Satoru wasn’t an idiot when it came to his feelings and he’d be a fool if he kept denying his undeniable irritation that came with your crush for Suguru. He places the unwashed dish atop some other bowls and utensils, reminding himself to get to that later since his priority was not to keep you waiting at the coffee shop.

Another buzz and Satoru nearly trips over his feet at the dread he gets from seeing his best friend’s message. Are you kidding me? He thinks to himself as he reads the message again.

Suguru: She’s cute

Yeah, he thinks he might be sick again.

Music’s playing in the background to substitute the sound of chatter that’d usually fill the room if Shoko were here. It wasn’t rare for Shoko to not flake on parties and it was even rarer for you to leave your comfort zone and go to one–especially the last one hosted by Sukuna; but this one was different. Suguru was the host and you’d be an idiot to miss it.

You flinch at the feeling of your mascara poking the inside of your eye, cursing quietly as you take a q-tip to fix the mistake.

The buzz of your phone makes you freeze.

Gojo: omw to ur house

Gojo: ill be there in 10

You: wait satoru don’t get mad but what do i wear

Gojo: …

Gojo: YOU DIDNT LIKE THINK ABOUT THAT AN HR AGO?

You: I WANNA STAND OUT TO ATTRACT THE LOML OKAY?

You: so i need ur opinion

Gojo: dude

Gojo: ok

Gojo: just wear whatever u want it’ll be fine

You: yeah but what specifically?

Gojo: not smth that makes you look like a grandma

Gojo: like that dress u wore to the last party

Gojo: no offense

You: but i liked that dress :((((

You: was it that bad?? I mean i had to throw it out bc of the vomit anyways

Gojo: it made u look like a grandma but in a good way

You: wow okay thanks

Gojo: you looked nice

Gojo: ANYWAYS

Gojo: a pair of jeans

Gojo: and that light blue long sleeve that shows ur shoulders

You: really?

Gojo: yeah and i’m leaving my apartment now so hurry up

You like the message, tapping your lips to even out the lip tint before you rush to put on the shirt and jeans. Doing a quick double-take in the mirror, you spin once and prop your hands on your hips, snapping a few selfies to commemorate this day.

You’re not sure how much time passes until you hear excessive honking outside, the sound of your phone buzzing as you see Gojo’s caller id. It’s enough to make your eyes roll as you grab your bag–leaving the door locked and the lights off.

Gojo’s grin is boyish and teasing as his eyes scan you from top to bottom. “Oh look at you,” he coos. “You’re actually wearing what I told you to wear.”

“Well I felt like listening today,” you murmur, feeling a small ripple of embarrassment pass you.

“Atta girl.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, feeling a grin form when you hear him chuckle. He puts his car into reverse mode, propping his arm on the top of your seat. Up close, you can get a stronger whiff of his cologne–its musk and earthiness slowing your heartbeat, calming you. Your eyes scan his outfit: a black pullover layered atop white t-shirt, paired with a pair of pants that were on the edge of being joggers and trousers.

On anyone else, the outfit wouldn’t have done them good like it did with Gojo. To your displeasure and awe, he looked effortlessly classy. And if he noticed your lingering gaze, he didn’t mention it.

“What’s your game plan?” His voice draws you back to reality and you watch as he sets the car back into drive mode.

“Game plan?”

“That’s right,” he glances at you, his shades sliding lower on his nose bridge. “Your plan to seduce the love of your life.”

“I’m not going to seduce him!” You gape, narrowing your eyes at his widening smile. His hand reaches down to turn the volume of the song a bit louder, stopping at the upcoming red light.

“I’m just joking with you,” he laughs, his eyebrows furrowing slightly before that smile returns to his face, not quite meeting his eyes like it usually does. He sighs before breaking into a laugh that almost sounds bitter. “I’d pay to see that though.”

At the party, you’d imagine yourself “mingling” with the crowd and letting loose–being the life of the party. Unfortunately for you, your feet are still stuck on the kitchen floor and you’re glued to Gojo’s side. You’d like to blame it on the vomit incident from Sukuna’s party and you’re fortunate enough to not be known as the “girl that someone threw up on.”

Either way, you weren’t especially fond of the fact that you were keeping Gojo from having fun somewhere else. Like in one of the unoccupied rooms upstairs or in the living room playing some drinking games. It’s enough to make you feel somewhat guilty and suddenly regretful that you even came to this party.

You tap his shoulder in the kitchen, offering him a reassuring smile. “Satoru. You don’t have to stay with me. I can manage myself!”

“That’s what you said last time,” he chuckles, rummaging through Getou’s fridge to search for something sweet, frowning when he sees traditional Japanese snacks that his grandparents would eat. “What the hell?” He murmurs to himself.

“I mean it,” you say, taking a few steps back. “You have some fun. I don’t want to bother you too much.”

“You’re not–”

“Satoru. (Name),” a velvety voice greets, all too familiar. A warmth spreads over you. “You made it.”

“Getou,” you murmured to yourself, glancing at Gojo who was already staring at you.

For a second, you see a subtle tick in his jaw, a sight you blame on the lighting since he’s back to normal the moment he turns to face Getou. He grins that teasing smile of his. “Suguru.”

“You looking through my fridge again, Satoru?” The brunette huffs, kicking the fridge’s door shut lightly–exchanging the grin with his friend. Your heart squeezes as he casts a lingering look at you, his smile polite. “Hey (Name). Good seeing you here.”

“Huh?” You perk up. “Oh you too?”

You inwardly curse at yourself for how awkward you were, giving Gojo a scathing look as he hides his laughter behind his palm. Luckily for you, Getou’s sweet and he was also good at redirecting topics. “You want something to drink?”

“Oh sure,” you blink, offering a thankful smile. “Thank you Getou–”

“Suguru.”

You pause, cocking your head to the side in confusion. “Sorry?”

“Call me Suguru,” he hands you a red, plastic cup–his smile pretty enough to make your breath hitch. “We’ve known each other long enough.”

You feel your heart race as he looks at you expectantly, as if you knew what he wanted you to do next. You fidget, suddenly more bashful at the attention he was giving you. “Thank you Suguru.”

“No problem,” he smiles and you like how he looks satisfied with you. He hands another red cup to Satoru who stood beside you, the sarcastic grin of his returning. You take a tentative sip of the booze, watching curiously as Satoru and Suguru talked amongst themselves–reconnecting despite seeing each other only a day ago.

You observe the two of them, mapping the details of Suguru’s face before your eyes land on Satoru–suddenly aware of the fact that the boy you spent most of your youth with grew up. Sure, you know that his face attracts attention from everyone but that was a token from childhood. It just didn’t hit you that he matured, grew up to be the man most would dream of dating. The realization is to make you wonder if Gojo ever registered the fact that you were growing too.

Slowly, you take another sip of your drink, blinking slowly as the alcohol settles in your system. Gojo’s the first to notice when you stumble, how your skin seems to heat up. “Hey hey,” he holds you by the shoulders, his voice soft. And if you paid closer attention, you would’ve seen the way Getou’s brows raised at how gentle his friend was acting towards you. “You okay?”

Amidst your drunken state, you realize that Gojo didn’t bother drinking any of the liquor in his cup during his conversation with Suguru. And Suguru. Sweet Suguru who puts the pieces together and confirms that you’re a lightweight, the guilt evident in his expression. “Oh shit. I forgot how strong this liquor is.”

“I’m okay,” you mumble and step forward, ready to excuse yourself to the restroom. Gojo looks like he’s about to say something until a group of unfamiliar faces barge into the kitchen, their faces bright as they greet Getou and Gojo with intentions to keep them occupied. Among the chatter and crowd, you find it easy to slip away–rushing to find a restroom.

The first one you went in was already used by a couple that you remembered mumbling apologies to. The others were either locked or used. At some point, your gut told you to go upstairs and you staggered into an unoccupied bathroom where you splashed cold water on your face–sighing at how nice it felt against your skin.

The music’s only a fraction of its noise from up here and you’re surprised that there’s not much of a group upstairs. There’s a funny feeling in your stomach as you crouch slightly, mentally cursing yourself for downing the whole cup so quickly, ruining your chances to talk with Suguru–coherently at least. Part of you wants to sulk over your spoiled opportunities but another part of you just wants to crash on the tiled floor and sleep–rest your eyes for a bit.

You’re thankful your mind was still conscious enough to rationalize the unsanitary conditions of the bathroom floor, opting to curl up in one of the hallways instead–shivering at the feeling of cold marble beneath you. Your eyes droop, a yawn escaping you. And you’re almost certain you would’ve fallen asleep if not for the gentle shaking of your shoulders.

“Stop,” you whine softly, your vision blurry as you catch a glimpse of hair the color of snow and a pair of worried filled blue eyes. Your protests turn quickly to bemusement. “Satoru? What are you doing here?”

You think he smiles as he kneels down on one knee to be eye level with you. “How about I get you off the ground first?”

“I don’t wanna. Let me sleep here,” you shake your head, ignoring how your body felt warm at how softly he treated you.

“C’mon,” he chuckles. “The ground’s dirty. Let's get you to a bed at least.”

In your drunken state, your mind still decides it favors a soft comforter over cold marble and you see his eyes soften when you go limp in his arms–letting him lift you from the ground. “Good girl.”

Your mind goes fuzzy at the sound of that and you’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or something else that makes your temperature rise. In that simple moment, you let his arms wrap around you, cradling you to his chest as he makes his way downstairs. All your thoughts stop as your eyes close, drowning the sound of the party out as you permit sleep to take over. His hands give your thighs an occasional squeeze, the gesture oddly intimate yet you don’t bother questioning it or objecting to it.

Even with the veil of sleep dropping on your form, you still recognize Suguru’s voice as he tells Satoru to take care of you, his tone apologetic–having been the one to give you the liquor. They talk for a bit and once more, you feel the bounce of each step as he carries you out the house.

You’re barely awake when Gojo puts you in the passenger seat and you feel disappointment wash over you when he stops holding you. You’re not sure when you grabbed onto the sleeve of his shirt, your eyes half-lidded as you peered up at him. “Don’t go.”

A noise of protest escapes your lips when he removes your cold hand from his shirt gently, rather taking it in between his warmer ones. “I won’t.”

“Satoru.”

“Hm?”

“I like when you compliment me.”

“Oh yeah?” He says, laughing a bit. “It’s hard not to.”

The music and cheers in Suguru’s house are still audible even in Gojo’s car, your vision getting darker and darker with each blink. Still, you can still feel Gojo’s hand gripping yours–his thumb rubbing circles on the skin as you invite sleep back in, taking deep breaths as you breathe in his cologne.

And as sleep came to life, you allowed the dreams to live as well.

Was there such a thing as a relationship between dreams and memories? In moments of delirium, you can’t single out what’s real and what’s not–was it a dream or did it actually happen?

But now that days have passed and you’ve given yourself more time, you’re certain that Gojo was the one who carried you out of the house and spent his night caring for you. So you ruled out the possibility that the night was a dream, rather a memory that made you feel soft inside–grateful yet unsure. And if you wanted to ponder harder, you would’ve done so if not for the hell you were experiencing this week.

Forgetting the content during a quiz. Getting yelled at by your boss. Having stepped in bird shit. Waking up late nearly every day because you’d forget to put your alarm on.

If that wasn’t enough, you got in an argument with your parents over the phone. It was about something stupid and you were so frustrated that you ended up walking to some 7/11–buying yourself an ice-cream to cheer yourself up. The argument was so dumb and you weren’t even sure what you guys were even arguing about. All you knew that you should probably call them later to talk it out; you also knew that this week couldn’t get any worse.

What was Satoru doing right now? You think to yourself, pulling out your phone to check your messages–frowning when you saw none from him. Your eyes land on a message from Suguru, seeing the link he sent you to some video he found funny or intriguing. After the party, you were shocked to see an unknown number texting you, claiming it was Suguru and that Satoru gave your number to him. The day that happened, you texted him using exclamation marks and thanked him–smiling at your phone as you two exchanged witty messages with one another.

You sighed, unlocking your phone and clicking Satoru’s contact and phoning him. You almost hang up after several rings but you hear his voice after the nth ring. “Hello?”

“Satoru?” You say, your voice cracking the second your lips part to speak. You weren’t expecting to cry and neither did Satoru–though you can hear the concern laced in his voice as he questions your whereabouts.

“Where are you sweetheart?” You hear rustling in the background amidst his voice and your sniffles. “I’ll pick you up. Your location’s shared with me right?”

“Mhm,” you wipe your eyes, fidgeting with the hem of your hoodie.

“Okay just stay there and don’t go anywhere. I’ll be there in a few. Don’t cry (Name).”

You think you might cry harder with how sweet his voice was.

Satoru thinks he might be the only one who notices the rift between you and him. And he’s not sure if he’s the one causing it or if it’s you. But after that night with you (in his car again), he’s been thinking about how soft you were in his arms; how he liked the way your head drooped against his chest. Or maybe he likes you but he’s not going to think about that unless he wants another headache.

Regardless, he finds himself looking at his phone sporadically, subconsciously eager to see your name pop up unexpectedly–eager for things to go back to normal. Even though you two still speak, he’s almost sure that he’s not imagining the awkward tension in the air.

Was he too intrusive when he carried you out to his car? Were you mad at him because he didn’t leave Suguru and you alone in the kitchen? It was a selfish thing to do, he admits. His original idea was to leave you alone with Suguru so you’d get to chat with him–get to know him like you intended to do at the party; but seeing Suguru give you that sly smile of his was enough to make Gojo ditch his plans of playing Cupid.

If Gojo was a good man, he’d feel happy that you were getting what you wanted since he knew you weren’t the only one interested. Like with the message Suguru sent to Satoru and how he eyed you at the party; how he called Satoru over for a bit and told him that he understood why people liked you or found you attractive; how he commented on how the shirt you wore suited you.

No shit, I picked it, he thought to himself as he recalled that night. Satoru always knew you were beautiful and he hated that everyone else knew too. You weren’t even his yet but he didn’t want to share you–to let anyone else hold you or have you. Seeing you blush and smile shyly at his best friend made him want to puke—made him want to claw his eyes out. That should be him and god he wishes it was.

He was selfish yet he never promised to be good. Yet, this was for you. He wanted you to be happy, is what he told himself whenever he saw you and Suguru talking.

His phone buzzes and it’s almost embarrassing how quickly he snatches it, the anticipation in his eyes fading when he sees that it’s Suguru messaging him about the party today. Satoru sighs, rubbing the spot between his brows as he leans on the kitchen counter, suddenly reminded that he planned a party at his place today. It was an impulsive decision to forget about the tension between you two and Satoru’s kinda wishing he took the time to talk it out with you rather than planning something else.

He invited a good amount of people and was going to invite you as well to give him a reason to call you. But lucky for him, you made things easier for him by calling him. Satoru thinks it’s not healthy for his blood temperature to rise just at the sight of your name on his phone and he’s already grinning when he picks up. “Hello?”

“Satoru?”

Oh. He pauses, his brows furrowing at how your voice cracked as you tried to hide your sniffles. His first thought was to wonder who made you sad and he thinks it’s scary how hearing you cry was enough to send his emotions in a frenzy. But you needed him and he didn’t want you to be alone. “Where are you sweetheart?” He asks, the nickname flowing off his tongue before he can stop. “I’ll pick you up. Your location’s shared with me right?”

“Mhm,” You mumbled back and his heart nearly snapped in two with how dejected you sounded. He frowns, grabbing his jacket and his keys–rushing to slip on his sneakers.

“Okay just stay there and don’t go anywhere. I’ll be there in a few. Don’t cry (Name).”

You make a sound of understanding and he hangs up, his finger tapping to click on Suguru’s contact. Satoru hears other familiar voices in the background but he doesn’t pay much attention to it.

“What’s up Satoru–?”

“Party’s off.”

“What? Wait what are you–”

“Sorry something came up. I’ll tell you later,” he says, hanging up before his friend can say anything else. He knows he should feel bad for flaking out last minute but his list of priorities had you at the top of it. And he really didn’t care if anyone else would understand.

You’re regretting the choice of shorts in the chilly night air and the ice-cream you ate wasn’t helping you shiver any less.

The way Satoru sounded made that warm, fuzzy feeling settle in your stomach again. He sounded like he would drop whatever he was doing just to get to you and it made you feel special. You think back to the sound of “sweetheart” from his lips, shaking your head when you feel your blood get warm.

“(Name)?” Satoru’s voice startles you from your thoughts and you think the sound of it could erase all your troubles. “You alright?” He asks, shrugging the jacket off his shoulders and draping them over your legs, kneeling down to see your face.

You only nod. “I want to go home.”

“Yeah I can take you back–”

“No,” you shake your head. “Back to your place.”

For a moment, you’ve stunned him but that surprise left as fast as it arrived. He sighs, tapping your knee with his finger. “Usually dinner comes first–”

“Not like that you idiot,” you kick him lightly, a grin forming on your lips. “Your methods of comforting are weird.”

“Yeah?” He laughs, the sound blending with the wind. “Well maybe I’m not trying to comfort you,” he eyes you with a teasing glint in his eyes and flashes a lopsided grin. He looked almost sweet as he did sly, the blend making your heart pick up in pace.

You squirm, mustering a tone of nonchalance. “I changed my mind. I’m going back to my place.”

This time he chuckles, his eyes narrowing in amusement. “Nuh uh. It’s my job to wipe that frown off your face,” he says, the corny phrase making you roll your eyes. “C’mon, I’ll be good to you.”

You pretend to think, ignoring the attentive expression he wore. “Fine. I guess I’ll let you take me home.”

“That’s my girl,” he grinned, standing up to his full height. You beam at him, matching his steps as you two reach his door. By the time the two of you were settled at his place, you already spoke to your parents in private–clearing up the misunderstandings like Satoru reminded you to do. You were glad you had him and even more glad that things were falling back to place.

Your eyes scan your surroundings, noticing how he must’ve tidied things up. “Did you clean your place?”

“Hm?” He grabs two mugs from the cabinet. “Oh yeah. I was going to have a party here.”

“Today?”

“That’s right,” he drawls, glancing at you from the corner of his eyes. “I was going to call you to see if you wanted to go.”

“Really?” That was a shock to you. “Are you still gonna have one today?”

“Nah. Canceled it last minute.”

You pause, raising your brows as you try not to jump to conclusions. “Why’d you cancel it?”

“Had better things to do. I'd rather hang out with you anyways,” he says casually, smiling when he finds the packets of hot cocoa. “Found it!”

Did he cancel the party for me? You think to yourself, a bit surprised that you came to that conclusion; but if you were right and he did, you wouldn’t know what to feel other than appreciation and maybe something else. Whether that was true or not, you know that you should be feeling guilt and not giddiness from having him prioritize you. Was it normal to feel this way for Satoru? You’re about to let your thoughts fill your head but you feel your breath hitch at how he seems to lean closer to you.

His hands move you by the hips, the touch barely lasting five seconds. “Sorry I gotta get the spoons,” he murmurs, paying no mind to how you hold your breath. Your eyes fall to his biceps, swallowing a gasp as you see how the black material of his shirt moved with every movement he makes. There was no way he was human when he looked like that.

Oh my god, you think to yourself, suddenly mortified at the fact that you were checking him out. What was wrong with you right now? You always knew Gojo was attractive but you didn’t think he was this attractive. And if he had any idea of your internal conflict he didn’t pay it any mind.

“Can you go get the movie ready for me?”

“Uh huh,” you nod immediately, quickening your pace as you try to distract yourself. By the time he sits next to you, the blankets and snacks are already placed neatly on the living room table. You smile and mutter a thank you when he hands you the mug of hot cocoa.

“Feel better?” He asks, propping an arm on the head of the couch once you’re halfway through the movie: a random romcom you picked to cheer you up. Even as someone who claims he’d rather watch a movie with more action, you think the drama that comes with romcoms intrigues him–much more than he’d like to admit.

You take a sip of your drink, your eyes flitting to him. “Much better.”

“I bet,” he murmurs, his eyes glancing at the way your knees touched. The scene panels to a teary confession the female lead does, the music dramatic with strings in the background. You watch intently, observing the expressions both characters make on screen.

“Y’know, I never understood how they can always come up with a speech like that on the spot,” Satoru comments, plopping a few gummy bears in his mouth. “Isn’t that unrealistic?”

“It’s a movie,” you point out, watching as the male lead hung onto every word the female lead had to say. “It’s not supposed to be realistic.”

“I guess you’re right. But that stuff apparently happens in real life right?”

“Wouldn’t you know? You have people confessing to you all the time.”

“I don’t give them much time to continue speaking,” he shrugs.

You don’t like how uneasy you feel after he says that. “Well, maybe it’s love that makes this kind of stuff happen.”

This earns you an amused snicker. “Of course you’d say that. You gonna do that with Suguru? Confess to him from the bottom of your heart?”

You roll your eyes. “To do that, I’d have to be in love with him.”

“Are you?”

“No,” you give him an incredulous look. “I hardly know the guy. I just really like him.”

He makes a sound of understanding but you feel as if you’re deluding yourself when you see the look of relief cross his face. You turn to him, the movie forgotten all of a sudden. “Would you do that?”

“What? Confess to Suguru with the bottom of my heart?”

“Yeah sure. That’s what I meant.” you huff, seeing his teasing grin form. You sigh. “No like…confess to someone you love.”

He’s quiet, the faraway look in his eyes confirming that he’s deep in thought. You’re not sure why a pang of irritation hits you when you realize that there might be someone Satoru’s in love with. And you’re not sure if it’s because he’s not telling you or because you want to be that someone. You go with the former because you’re supposed to like Suguru.

His eyes wander to meet yours and the tick in his jaw makes you nervous–makes your palms sweaty because he’s never looked at you like that. You’re not even sure words could describe what emotion he had on his face. He smiles–not the smile that’s crooked and boyish. It’s the smile that’s sharp and makes his eyes narrow. “I might.”

“You might?” You ask, hating how breathless your voice sounded to your ears–something that he notices with the way amusement practically glimmers in his eyes. You swallow a gasp when his gaze falls to your lips, quickly flying back to your eyes.

“Maybe,” he whispers and you can’t help but wet your lips, feeling faint when the bright blue of his eyes darkens to black. You don’t flinch when his head tilts, his arm coming to the side to trap you between the couch. His cologne overwhelms you, makes you drunk on him. He’s so close that you can feel his breath hit your face.

“Satoru–”

The sound of your phone buzzing crushes the tension quickly and you let him lean back–looking as if he had more to say. You feel a smidge of disappointment as you grab your phone. “It’s Suguru,” you say and you’re not sure why your inner voice begs Satoru to tell you to ignore the phone call–to act like he cares more.

“Shouldn’t you answer it?” He questions and you hate that sinking feeling in your stomach when he doesn’t even spare a glance at you–as if acting like he wasn’t about to kiss you seconds ago. You can only frown, nodding as you watch him stand up–still not offering you one single look. “I’ll clean up.”

As you glance at your phone, at the name of Suguru appearing on your screen, you hope for the slightest bit of joy–that lovesick feeling you get whenever you’d see him. Yet, it felt wrong. This felt wrong. And apparently, Suguru could tell from your voice that there was something bugging you.

“Is everything alright? You don’t sound too good.”

Your eyes linger on Satoru’s figure moving to the kitchen. You think Suguru mentions something about a date but you don’t pay much attention, not feeling all that bad as you drown out his voice. “Yeah. I’m fine. What were you saying?”

“I was asking if you wanted to go to dinner with me tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at 7 and we can–”

“Sure,” you say, trying to ignore the way your body lurches at your response–as if it didn’t want this. “Sure. I’ll see you at 7.”

You don’t catch what he says when he hangs up, only thinking of how Satoru looked at you when he was leaning closer. The thought doesn’t horrify you as much as it should but you think that if he had kissed you, you probably would’ve kissed him back.

If someone told you a month ago that you were going on a date with Suguru, you would’ve cried tears of joy and celebrated. But now, you’re almost undeniably feeling a wave of indifference hit you and it feels awful. Suguru’s perfect–his sharp features and his charming smile that’d send anyone into a frenzied mess. Or maybe most tend to fixate on how suave he is with his words–mixing the subtlest of flirtations with simple compliments.

He’s everything you could’ve asked for. Yet, you find yourself missing the ruthless beauty you saw in Satoru–the striking blue of his eyes and the rare color of his hair. You find yourself missing the rasp of his voice, how it’d soften that night when he comforted you; you find yourself missing his warm and strong embrace as he took care of you in your inebriated state; you find yourself missing how close he was that night on his couch and how he looked at you.

At some point, you found yourself replaying that scene over and over again. The first few times, you were giddy with hormones as you imagined him leaning closer and kissing you. After a while, you wanted the image gone because it didn’t happen. He pulled away. He let you pick up the call from Suguru. He acted like nothing happened when in reality, a lot did happen. You two were finally breaching the line of friends and he knew that.

So why? That question plagued your mind for days after and every time you think you forgot about it, the memory of him would remind you all over again. And when he only congratulated you when you told him about your date with Suguru you felt betrayed. Why don’t you care? You almost blurted out but technically he did care. After all, he was the one who was trying to set you guys up so why did you suddenly want to change your mind?

You think you might hate him a little for being so good at acting like everything’s normal and you think you might hate more for making your heart beat so fast. Things weren’t supposed to end up like this. You weren’t supposed to imagine your best friend kissing you breathless or taking you on a date.

Everything’s going to fall into place, you tell yourself. You’ve already dolled up and were in the middle of spraying your perfume when Getou messaged you that he was already here. He’s relaxed in the car as you enter the car. This scene feels the same, you think to yourself, recalling the way Gojo greeted you the last time he picked you up.

“You’re wearing the shirt you wore to the party,” Getou points out and you look down at your shirt, gaping at the revelation that you’re wearing the same top Gojo told you to wear. Even with the company of another man, your subconscious still wishes he was here.

“I didn’t even notice,” you mumble, smiling at the brown-haired male as he drives. The small talk is all natural as you two make your way to the restaurant and you’re grateful that Suguru’s such an easy person to talk with. He’s nice. Really nice and you feel almost guilty for not being as enthusiastic as you wanted to be.

It’s only when you’re midway through the meal that he mentions it. “You’re not here.”

“What?”

“Here,” he shrugs, glancing at you with an empty smile. “You’re thinking about something else aren’t you?”

“I’m not–”

“Don’t worry I’m not mad,” he says and you know he’s telling the truth. “I’m curious. What are you thinking about?”

This makes you squirm in discomfort, a bit uneasy at how perfectly he read you. Satoru’s always made comments about Getou’s intuitive feeling for emotions and you’re starting to think he wasn’t exaggerating. “What if I don’t wanna tell you?” You joke.

“Then you’d leave me to assume,” he answers easily, the corner of his lips curling upwards. “I’m not an idiot (Name). I know when a lady’s thinking about someone else in my presence.”

When you try to protest, he only smiles. “Is it Satoru?”

Your silence is enough said. You want to deny him–want to shake your head and utter a firm “no.” But something about the question makes you lose your sense of thought and Suguru understands that too. “Are you in love with him?”

This catches your attention. “No. I like you not him.”

“Aren’t we well past the point of lying now?” He gives a good-natured chuckle. “If you liked me then you wouldn’t have looked at your phone so many times as if you were expecting a call.”

You widen your eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to–”

“Nah I’m really not mad,” he sighs. “But I’m interested in why you didn’t decline my offer for a date.”

You’re silent for a while, musing over his words. “When you called me, Satoru and I were about to kiss. Or well–at least I think we were about to kiss.

“So why’d you pick it up? I know Satoru enough to know that a call from me isn’t enough to make him stop with whatever he’s doing,” he raises a brow and you catch a roll of his eyes as he remembers something.

“It’s because he was the one who was setting us up together.”

Suguru makes a sound of confusion, nodding at you to continue. You take a big breath. “I asked Satoru to help me get with you.”

Getou makes a “o’ with his mouth, nodding in consideration as he processes your words. His pity makes you feel small and you’re finally experiencing the impact tenfold. “Oh (Name).”

“Yeah,” you shrug. “So now I’m pretty sure I messed up the friendship because I was stupid and he’s never gonna like me back–”

“That’s not true,” he stops you, taking a sip from his wine. “Satoru’s different around you.”

“Well that’s because I’ve known him for a while now.”

“Maybe. But he doesn’t go out of his way to help people like he does with you. Even an idiot could notice that.”

“That doesn’t mean he likes me back–”

“You don’t know that yet,” he retorts, that smile of his returning again. “Just like I didn’t know you were in love with my best friend the entire time.”

You wince, swallowing as you peer up at him. You know he didn’t intend for the comment to burn but a small part of you thinks he did it on purpose. The sight of you sulking brings a wider grin to play on his face. “Relax. I’m only playing with you,” he pauses. “I’m a bit jealous that Satoru's got such a cute girl in love with him though.”

His teasing makes you laugh. “What if he doesn’t love her back?”

“Then he’d be an idiot,” he says, giving you a look as he asks for the bill. “If he breaks your heart you know who to go to. I’d be happy to have you for myself.”

You roll your eyes, smiling softly when he coyly smiles. Suguru was kind enough to offer to drop you off at your place but you told him you wanted to see Satoru—bringing a surprised look on the brown-haired male’s face. You’re not sure how apparent it was, but you reeked of anxiety and Suguru was quick to point it out.

“I’ll wait for you,” he says nonchalantly, shooing you with his hand once you stare at him in bewilderment. “Go. Just do me a favor and message me when you guys are gonna get uh intimate.”

“We’re not—“ you click your tongue at his grin. You thank him, rushing to Satoru’s flat—the sound of your heels clicking against the floor.

If you were in a movie, there would be dramatic music playing in the background—perhaps orchestra or a sappy love song. The scene was so cliche but you’re understanding why the protagonists always ran: it was love. You were in love with Gojo Satoru.

You ring his doorbell, fixing your hair as you ready yourself to see him—mentally preparing the script of your confession. Please be home, please be home, please—

The door opens and a plethora of blue looks back at you, the surprise evident in them. You visibly brighten, smiling as you see him. “Satoru I—“

“Satoru?” another voice says from behind him—the voice evidently female. You freeze, feeling as if this image was in slow motion as you see a glimpse of a girl behind Satoru. Your eyes flit to both of them, the speech you prepared in your head drying up like a sore. “Who’s this?”

You hate that you can only watch. “It’s just a friend. Why don’t you go back inside for a bit, yeah?”

She’s so pretty, it hurts. There wasn’t a speck of imperfection on her and the need to curl up in a ball never felt stronger. The girl nods at Satoru, glancing at you in curiosity as she leaves you two alone.

You think you might hate a little bit for looking at you in concern. “Is there something wrong? Are you okay? If something—“

“No. Nothing’s wrong I’m just—“ you say, wishing your voice was louder at this moment. You avoid his eyes, fearing that you’d end up crying in front of him if you continued to stare at him. “I need to go.”

“What? But you just got here—“

“I don’t know why I came here. This was a mistake and I—“ you sigh shakily, turning on your heel to leave.

Satoru grabs you by the wrist, his gaze soft as he shakes his head when he sees you try to pry his hand off of you. “Just tell me what I can do—“

“Suguru’s waiting for me,” you say quickly, ignoring the way his face drops. “He’s outside right now.”

You hold your breath the moment his hand slowly slips off your wrist, taking a few steps back as you make your way outside. Not once do you turn back as you try your best to hold the tears in—ultimately failing as they fall as quickly as they appear.

By the time you reach Suguru’s car, your make-up is already ruined. At first, he snaps his head back at you with a smile, the curve of lips quickly disappearing as he sees your lip trembling. “No?”

“No,” you confirm, sitting back into the car and wiping your tears with a tissue he hands you. There’s no words spoken between you two as he starts the car, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. Ironically, you listen to the soundtrack of “The Other Woman” playing in his car and he’s quick to change the song. He clears his throat.

“I didn’t think he was that stupid,” he says after some time, signaling right as he reaches the stop light.

“He wasn’t,” you murmur. “I was the stupid one for thinking that we could be more than friends.”

After the ordeal a couple nights ago, you’re not even ashamed that you’re blatantly avoiding Gojo like the plague. You even turned off your read receipts for him which you would’ve found so petty if you didn’t feel so frantic at the sound of his name. Originally, you thought he’d put up more of a fight and be more persistent in getting your attention–only you were proven wrong when you didn’t see any of his attempts increasing.

Disappointed, you were caught in a dilemma. You wanted this distance but craved his presence. At some point, your thoughts ran dry and you were in a slump. Were you always this bad at making up your mind?

No. You weren’t. You didn’t think excessively hard when you decided you liked Getou and when you stopped liking him. Nor did you think super hard about your other crushes. Gojo made your brain hurt and if this was love, you’re not sure you really liked it; but it felt so nice to think about how it would feel to be loved by him–to have him kiss you.

Which is why you thought it was a great idea to avoid him because surely time makes the feelings fade. And you hope they fade fast–especially after you saw him with that girl. You bite back your jealousy at the thought of what they did together. Today was supposed to be a mental health day. It was if fate allowed you to have little to nothing to do and you were going to take advantage of it.

The coffee house was ambient with the occasional loud laughter from groups of friends. You were halfway through your book, taking a sip from your drink as you flipped the pages. This was what you were meant for: reading novels in a cafe, keeping a low profile, and protecting your peace.

You’re about midway through the big plot twist until you hear the sound of a chair scraping and your heart freezes in your chest when you see Gojo stare back at you. Only this time, he looks serious and even annoyed.

“I knew I’d find you here,” he begins, tapping his finger nails on the wooden table. You don’t miss the way a few people take a few double-takes when they walk past him. So much for keeping a low profile.

“Gojo,” you acknowledge him awkwardly, fidgeting with the pages of your book.

Your stomach does a flip when his jaw twitches and his eyes cross your face. He sighs, leaning back and adjusting his seating position. “Are you mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“You literally just called me Gojo,” he said and if you were more rational, you would’ve laughed at how childish he sounded over you not using his first name.

“A lot of people call you Gojo,” you point out, still not meeting his eyes.

“You’re not just ‘a lot of people.’ And you always call me Satoru,” he murmurs.

You tense up. There he goes again: treating you like you’re special. It makes you confused and makes your heartbeat skip. You clear your throat. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Then why are you avoiding me?” He says, a bit loudly at that. It was unlike Gojo to attract attention to personal matters in public and the guilt hits you. You were so caught up in your own feelings that you completely ignored how he would’ve felt. Even if he only thought of you as a friend, anyone would’ve felt mad if put in the situation you put Gojo in.

You glance at the curious gazes in the cafe, grabbing him by the hand as you pull him outside to a secluded area. You quickly drop his hand, a bit surprised that he let you even hold it. “What are you talking about?” You ask, not sure why you’re playing dumb.

“You’re avoiding me,” he says, staring down at you. Sometimes, you forget how tall Satoru really is and how his gaze can make anyone feel small. “Did I do something to make you mad?”

You think back to him and the girl. “No you didn’t do anything.”

“Then what the hell is it?” He says, sounding more mad than you initially thought. His eyes scan over your face–observing your pursed lips and aversion from his eyes. He clicks his tongue. “Is this about the other night?”

You really wish you didn’t snap your head so fast to meet his eyes. The other night could’ve meant many things but you knew he was referring to a specific one. “No,” you say and you already know he doesn’t believe you.

“(Name),” he says softly. “Were you jealous?” Hearing him saying it out loud makes you cringe. You shake your head adamantly, trying to muster up the courage to not break eye-contact with him. You wonder if he could hear how loud your heartbeat was. “I’m not jealous. Why would I be jealous?”

“You tell me,” he voices in that tone that tells you that he’s already figured it out. For all the years you’ve known Gojo, you’ve become well-acquainted with his habits and his mannerisms. And you knew him well enough to realize that he wasn’t going to stop with the questions until you told him the truth.

He always did this. Always made sure to pummel the truth out of you and it didn’t matter how dirty he played. “Then why did you go to me in the first place? Didn’t you have Suguru outside waiting for you?”

“I–”

“What was so important about what you wanted to tell me that you left Suguru waiting for you? What was it and why are you so scared that you’re avoiding me?”

“It’s because I like you!” You finally say, knowing that he bested you in this game of his. The regret hits you so hard you feel like running away again. Only this, he doesn’t let you when he pulls you by the shoulder.

“What?” He says breathlessly, his eyes wide with wonder. It’s over, you think to yourself. He’s going to hate you after this because you ruined the friendship.

“I avoided you because I like you,” you admit quietly. “And because I saw you with that girl the other night.”

“(Name)...”

“Stop,” you murmur, feeling the tears form. “Stop. I already know what you’re gonna say, okay? It doesn’t matter anymore.”

You shrug him off, wiping your tears with your sleeve. The plans for “protecting your peace” almost seemed silly now because you couldn’t rewind time and undo all of this. You don’t bother saying goodbye to Gojo as you take your chances in leaving. And you desperately wonder how you were going to move on from this.

Gojo thinks he’s in a fever dream. Your confession stunned him into oblivion and if it weren’t for your tears, he thinks he might’ve stayed in one spot for hours on end. The night you came over, Gojo already had enough on his mind. Seeing you in the flesh made him lose the logical side of his brain and his mind just replayed that night you two nearly kissed.

He remembered being able to taste how nervous you were–how you found purchase on his shoulders as he tried his hardest not to pin you to the couch and kiss you stupid. He remembered how soft you were and how that thought would torture him for days on.

Gojo knew what he did after was an asshole move but he thought the phone call from Suguru served as a reminder that he couldn’t have you. You two were best friends and to ruin that because he wanted you was selfish of him. He was already selfish enough to want to keep you for himself but you wanted Suguru.

That’s why when you came to his place, he was confused. Gojo did something stupid and didn’t want the thoughts of you to keep popping up. He recalled dialing the number of some girl he stopped talking to ages ago just to not have you occupy his mind.

When he saw your brows furrow at the sight of her, he was surprised to say the least. He ruled out the possibility of jealousy early on and just kept it as that. But now, on this chilly afternoon and in some secluded corner, you were confessing to him.

You like him. You like him back. Sure, you didn’t love him like he loves you (or at least he thinks so) but that's besides the point. He collects himself the moment he sees the tears forming in your eyes, panic coursing through him.

Did his silence make you misunderstand? Did you know that he was ready to scream and tell the whole world that he finally got the girl of his dreams? How he was prepared to pull you into a crushing hug and hold you like he had heaven in his arms?

He forgot you weren’t a mind reader and it dawned on him that he caused your tears. He doesn’t want to be the guy who lets misunderstandings marinate nor does he want to be the cause of your fallout. He was going to fix this.

If you thought he was going to let you go that easily then you severely underestimate him. Because Gojo Satoru was willing to fight for your love.

You think you’re in some sappy k-drama when he grabs you by the wrist the second time. If you weren’t crying your eyes out, you would’ve laughed at him and he would’ve laughed with you. But there’s only a wave of frustration when he doesn’t let go. “Satoru let me go–”

“No,” he says with a deadpan and you almost think he sounds desperate. You’re about to say something but he only steps closer. “You can’t run away like you did before. That’s the easy way out–”

“I’m not–”

“You are,” he interrupts. “And I’m not gonna let you because you’re gonna listen to what I have to say.”

You’re almost reluctant to stay silent but you give in when he squeezes your wrist–as if begging you to stay. You sigh. “Fine.”

“Good,” he whispers, racking his brain for what to say. He takes a deep breath. “A while back, I said I didn’t understand how the characters from romance movies always knew what to say in moments like these. You know those super long speeches? It seemed unrealistic to me but I think I understand now.”

You let him continue, clinging onto every word that falls from his lips. “It’s so easy to say stuff like this. When you’re in love with someone, you notice the little things about them. I noticed you and you were the only thing on my mind. You still are the only thing on my mind. Do you get what I mean?”

You watch in awe as he continues, stuttering over some of his words which was so rare for him. “The night you told me you liked Suguru I was so annoyed. I’ve never gotten jealous of Suguru or anyone but I wanted to be the one that you liked. I wanted to be the one that you dressed up for and the one you smiled at. It drove me insane when you went on a date with him and I hate that I didn’t just say fuck it and steal you away sooner.”

He takes a chance to catch his breath, ruffling his hair as he finally flashes you a crooked grin–a mix of embarrassed and boyish. “That girl you saw me with…I never did anything with her,” he admits and you think you might fall over from shock. “I couldn’t. I just kept thinking about you and I wanted you on my mind all the time. I didn’t want to think about anyone else and didn’t want anyone to take your place–”

“What I’m trying to say is that I’m in love with you,” he finally says. “I already said that earlier but I want to say it again. I think I’ve always loved you–even when we were kids. I think little kid me always wanted your attention. I just never knew what I felt until I realized that you weren’t mine–not mine to love. And I don’t think there’s nothing in the world that I want more than you.”

At this point, your mouth is already ready to catch flies as you listen to his ramblings about his affections. You think you might cry. Gojo’s usually not good with words but you can tell how genuine he is–how much he meant this. “Then all those times you helped me with Suguru?”

“I hated doing that,” he huffs. “I swear I was about to punch Suguru every time he called you cute.”

You laugh, feeling jittery all over. “Would you?”

“I’m a bit worried that you like that idea a bit too much.”

You grin, shrugging. “Maybe a little. I guess I should tell you that I really wanted you to kiss me when we were on the couch.”

“You did?” He practically beams, cupping your face with his hand. You feel your stomach do twists when his thumb grazes the skin of your cheek softly, as if this was always normal.

“And I should probably tell you that I love you too,” you say firmly, gaining a rush of confidence. “And you should probably kiss me right now.”

The smile on his face might just be the prettiest thing you’ve seen in the world. He leans in, cupping your face as he presses his lips against yours. The way he holds you makes you feel safe and you think you might love him a little more when he moves his hand to your neck.

You break the kiss. “Does this mean we’re dating now?”

He laughs. “Do I need to kiss you again for you to say yes?”

When you nod, he pulls you in again and again. And if this was his way of asking, you’d say yes each time.

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #satoru gojo #gojo satoru x reader #jjk #fluff #angst #satoru x reader #satoru x you

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pedrostylez · 3 months ago

Text

Dare

Summary: Will dares you and Frankie to have sex

Rating: 18+ please control your experience on this platform

Word Count: 1.9k words

Warnings: dare to have sex, love/hate relationship, drinking, fingering, hand job for a second, piv w/o condom (don't do that), some praise, dirty talk I guess

A/N: Just something quick to get those writing vibes flowing. I've been struggling to write some and Frankie is a comfort character so...I've literally not edited it don't hate me.

You and Frankie had never gotten along, as far as you were concerned.

But here and now, it didn’t seem to matter. With his hand sliding up your thigh, your eyes wide and staring into his asking silently if it was okay with both of you, you couldn’t think about how just earlier that evening you were arguing with him about “which cheap beer was better”.

And you thought that it was clear that you mutually didn’t like each other, with how often the two of you argued.

It was a stupid dare, that you weren’t going to back out on; and it didn’t seem like Frankie was either.

“C’mon, you’re telling me you haven’t even thought about it?” Benny had called from across the table, squishing Frankie into the corner of the booth, you on the other side with Santiago to your right.

You both had scoffed in unison, one of you rolling your eyes and the other shaking their head. “I know the type of girl she is.” Frankie had babbled loudly, irking you.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” You spit back, taking a sip of your cocktail, courtesy of Will.

Frankie had leaned forward, shrugging his shoulders at you. “Too stuck up, for me.”

Santiago had sucked air in through his teeth harshly, knowing Frankie would regret saying that. As if you hadn’t been friends with Santiago the longest out of all of them, able to tag along and fit into the group relatively seamlessly because of your childhood friend turned military advisor. As if everyone but Frankie had gotten to know you to the point that you were able to spend time with all of them separately. “C’mon now, Fish that not–”

“I think,” Will interrupts, clearly more drunk than the rest of the group. “They are secretly attracted to each other.”

Now you groaned out loud, blood rushing and hiding your face in your drink to where you gulp instead of sip. Benny laughs, elbowing Frankie. “That true?”

“No! Fuck no–”

“I dare you to have sex with each other and not get attached!” Is Will’s final exclamation, before his eyes begin to droop and he’s suddenly resting his head on the table. Santiago clicks his tongue at him, shooting you an apology glance before sliding out of the booth. “Benny, let’s get him to the car.”

And then suddenly you and Frankie were alone, staring at each other and mulling over what Will had said. Somehow Santiago had come rushing back saying he had to leave right then, it was urgent, and Benny was driving Will home.

Frankie had glanced at you and offered you a ride home since you had originally come with Will and Benny. And what you had thought would be awkward was more peaceful, Frankie’s steady eyes not leaving the road as if he had nothing to drink at all.

But what confused you more is how neither of you discussed what Will had said, had only let Frankie into your apartment, and were now hands on legs deep into each other. “We don’t have to go through with it.” Frankie husks, snapping you out of your own thoughts.

You find yourself shaking your head no, without considering more. “I didn’t say I didn’t want to.”

You can hear Frankie breath steadily out, his fingers squeezing into the thickness of your thigh. “It’s just a dare.” He laughs, eyebrows raising as his eyes look down to where his hand is.

“If…if you don’t want to–”

“I didn’t say that.” He rushes out, his other hand coming up to cup the back of your neck, pressing his forehead to yours. “Didn’t say that at all.”

You hum, letting your tongue slip out to lick at your dry lower lip and his eyes hone in on it, tilting his head one way and then the other and lightly pressing his lips to yours.

It’s quick–nothing to write home about. But the shock of it pushes both of your heads back to stare at each other, frozen in time for only a second before colliding back together in a frenzy of teeth and tongue and heavy breathing.

And maybe its the swim of your brain from that cocktail, or the smell of the cheap beer on Frankie’s breath, but you feel heat drifting down from your face to your stomach, creeping lower and lower.

Frankie’s hands feel like a fire on a winter’s night, sliding up and down your legs until they find home on your hips, pulling you toward him. Seating you on his lap, groaning into your mouth, he moves your hips just once so you can feel him hardening beneath you.

“Baby–” It’s practically a whine, coming from his lips and puffing against yours before he pushes his tongue into your mouth. You squeak when his hands move to your ass, pulling you closer, closer, closer until you’re flush against him.

You lean away even though he tries to follow, laughing a little and seeing his eyes open when he realizes how desperate he looks. He begins to blush, his lips lifting into a smirk when you lean far enough back that you can lift your shirt over your head.

You might care that your bra and underwear don’t match, or that they aren’t even your good ones, if you liked Frankie, but you don’t. You might even care that his eyes widen in lust at the sight of your chest in his face, or how his hands drift up to touch you, but you don’t…right?

Your breath comes heavier as he touches you, his thumbs brushing against your nipples over your bra and you close your eyes at the feeling. Hands in his hair, knocking off his hat that he always seems to be wearing, it seems to jolt him to lift you, flipping your positions and practically tossing you on to your own couch.

You look up at him, shocked at the speed of his movements, his own shirt flying across your living room and his fingers unbuttoning his pants. “Take ‘em off.” He nods to you, your own hands finding the zipper of your jeans and sliding them down your thighs like his hands had earlier.

He groans when he sees your underwear, green flowers littering the fabric that embarrasses you momentarily before he’s on his knees, his boxers taunt around his growing member. You lift your hips when his fingers begin tugging on the fabric, quick but gentle sliding down your legs to your ankles to drop your panties to the floor.

He’s slower when he brings his fingers back up, tickling at your knees to encourage them apart, eyes locked with yours when his fingers reach the apex of your thighs and slide to where he somehow knows it will be wet.

You bite your lip in anticipation, the calluses on his fingers spreading you apart just enough to touch your clit, jolting your teeth deeper into your lip to where you taste blood. Frankie leans forward, pressing a kiss to your breast before enveloping your nipple again and swirling his tongue just so.

A gasp escapes your lips, watching him, feeling his fingers, overcome with the want to touch him too. You attempt to reach him, pushing at the elastic band and bringing your foot up to push them down further, his cock springing up against his lower stomach. Your fingers barely brush him, a moan vibrating against your chest at the feel of you, and you’re able to barely wrap a hand around him from the awkward angle.

You pump slowly, matching the pace of his fingers circling your clit, only speeding up when he lets them drift down to press one finger into you. He pulls away from your chest, eyes coming up to yours to say, “You’re sucking just the one in, how are you going to take me?”

It’s then that you raise your eyebrows, muttering out, “Magic.” That makes a full blown smile spread across his face, a quick laugh shared before he’s gently pulling his hand away from you to position himself.

A tense silence falls between you, your eyes watching the head of his cock weeps against your hole before he presses forward, just a couple inches, his eyes shooting up to your face to watch your jaw drop.

You moan “More, Frankie.” to encourage him, his hips canting toward you and his hands pressing into the cushions by your head. It’s a cage around you, your own holding your legs apart and his hips stilling once he’s fully seated.

Deep breaths and a groan, his chest is slick with sweat from him holding back before you nod at him. He takes his cue to begin a slower pace, angling his hips up at the end, the hair at the base of him rubbing against your clit deliciously.

You let go of one leg to hold on to his shoulder instead, your nails digging into his skin so harshly he hisses. He picks up speed, grabbing your hand that is locked on his shoulder and bringing it to his lips to press a kiss to the knuckles, resting your palm against his chest. “So fucking good.” He breathes, looking down to where you both connect and groaning. “How do you feel this good?”

You wonder if he’s actually asking, or if he’s talking to himself, but you can’t answer because he lets his hand drift to your center again to feel how to pumps in and out of you. It’s intoxicating, the press of his hips, the way his fingers glide around until the find home on your clit again, circling tightly.

You cry out, unexpected to feel so good so quickly, bringing your eyes to his. “Frankie, I–”

“I want to feel it.” He says darkly, his eyes closing for a moment before looking back down again. “Want to see you squeeze me. Go on, baby.”

It isn’t much longer until you come, nails digging into his chest where he left your hand, head thrown back to expose your neck for him. He leans forward, continuing his hips and fingers and pressing delicate kisses to your skin. He encourages and pushes through, losing himself to his own words and pulling out abruptly, finishing on your stomach.

You both breathe harshly together, his eyes on his spend dripping down your skin before locking with yours. He’s waiting for you to say something, not wanting to be the first.

“Well…” you clear your throat, unable to pull your knees together still, fully exposed to each other. “That was–”

“Amazing.” He finishes, resting his hand gently on your leg again. It’s not the same heat as it was before, but comforting all the same. “It was amazing.”

You nod, agreeing. “Amazing.”

When he’s satisfied with your answer, he goes to stand. His knees crack as he stands to his full height, walking blindly through your living room and without asking, finds your bathroom. You hear the water running, standing up yourself as he walks back down the hall, a rag in hand.

The fabric is warm as he presses it against your skin, wiping away his spend from your stomach. “That was some dare Will had, huh?” He chuckles, keeping his eyes on his working hands.

You give a light giggle, nodding. “Yeah, some dare.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #frankie morales #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales x you #frankie morales smut

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tune-on-in-folks · 9 months ago

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Day 11. Yet again I had to force myself to stop editing and rewriting this one. If things seem a little out of place, that's why. Haha. Something about the deer-man has me rewriting over and over. Anywhozle, enjoy a rut fic with the Radio Demon!

Tags/Warnings: fem!reader, deer!reader, p in v sex, top!Alastor, rut, heat, mating, kinda A/B/O because of that, creampie, chasing, blood consumption, marking, biting, reader is very confused. Word Count: 3,550

It was mid-October and the Hotel was alight with activity. Charlie had decided that the Hotel needed to be decorated from the highest floors to the ground-floor lobby. It was one of her latest plans to help with team-building. And who didn’t enjoy Halloween or decorating? Alastor had withdrawn himself from the activities, not giving a really solid reason to why. But since he often didn’t indulge in the activities of the Hotel, Charlie freed him from his duties as hotelier for the time being. And for once, Alastor was thankful to be free of work.

He had been in Hell for many years, so he was well aware that every year, around mid-October, his rut started. It was an unfortunate side effect of being a deer demon. Each season was different as well, sometimes the lust that his rut brought was easily manageable. Other times it nearly suffocated him. He refused to indulge in the primal urges of his body, never once, in all of his years in Hell, taking a mate. This year, he planned to do much of the same. Tuck himself away in his room, relieve the rut himself for as long as it would last, and be done with it.

He didn’t account for you.

You were a deer demon like him, which lent itself to a sort of camaraderie between the both of you. He enjoyed your presence more than he was willing to admit, and found himself caring for you. You softened his edges, made his heart skip a beat. You were intriguing, enchanting, you drew him in. You were a weakness that he refused to disclose to anyone, you included. Alastor knew you were fairly new to Hell, but hadn’t expected you to be clueless about your own nature. About what your very presence would do to him, come mid-October.

A few days ago, Alastor had started to avoid you. Which had hurt, even though you were certain it was unintentional on his part. He was busy, you knew that, and you couldn’t expect him to spend every waking moment listening to your silly stories. But how you missed him. You were thoroughly unaware why he was avoiding you. Unaware of why your very body seemed to crave his presence more than usual. You adored the Radio Demon. While most at the Hotel feared him, you sought him out, wanting to be near him. Everyone else avoided him, which meant he was typically always free for you to pester while helping him with tasks. Your feelings of wanting him near just intensified as mid-October rolled around. And you were starting to get annoyed that he was avoiding you. Your first thought was that he was busy, but then you started worrying that you had done something wrong, maybe insulted him accidentally. You were prepared to make it up to him.

You awoke early in the morning, sweat sticking your hair to your face and a low arousal building in your stomach. You didn’t think too much of it, having woken up much the same, the last few days. You were unaware that you were entering your first ever heat-cycle. So you got up, made sure you looked fairly presentable, and headed out of your room. It was extremely early, no one else was up. The Hotel was eerily quiet, but peaceful nonetheless. You made your way to Alastor’s bedroom, knowing that he rose before the sun most mornings. It was the perfect time to approach him. In the privacy of the early morning, you were certain you could speak to him about why he was avoiding you. You knew he was busy, but hoped he’d spare a moment for you, especially first thing in the morning.

You arrived at his door, raising your hand up to rap your knuckles gently against the wood. The sound was surprisingly loud in the quiet stillness that covered the Hotel. You wondered for a moment, if perhaps Alastor wasn’t up at all, if you should come back later. But then you heard shuffling, your ears twitching as they picked up the sound. The door opened a crack a moment later and Alastor appeared. You took in his appearance, feeling yourself blush at his level of undress. He was in pajamas, the shirt unbuttoned and hanging loosely from his frame. It felt almost scandalous seeing his chest and stomach exposed when he typically wore layers. He froze, his smile straining as he took in your similar appearance. Shorts that were high above your knees, and a shirt that was cut much too low- exposing quite an expansive amount of your cleavage. He shifted forward, aware of your scent, the pheromones rolling off you in thick waves. At the same time he moved forward, your sharp nose picked up his scent. A mix of his cologne and something that was uniquely him. Just the whiff of him had more heat pooling between your legs. Much to your annoyance and confusion.

“May I help you, my dear?” His voice was hoarse, sounding strained as his claws dug into the edge of the door.

“I…” You begin, swallowing as more arousal flooded through you. “I wanted to see if you were alright.”

“Fine.” Was his curt reply, his ears pressed flat against his head as he struggled to maintain control with you so near.

You were in the beginning of your heat and here you were coming to his door, flaunting your scent around him. He had never once smelt something so enticing, something that had his cock twitching to life in an instant. His body craved release, craved to give into his rut. Into the primal side of his nature and breed, much to his annoyance. He was startled by how intense his rut got with you being so near. It was taking everything in him not to pull you into his room and fuck you against the door.

“Is that all?” He asks, moving to close the door.

“No, I wanted to speak to you actually.” You take a step forward, your eyes catching on the sweat on his brow, his typically perfect hair was messy.

A flash of concern runs through you, you wonder if he was getting unwell. You take another step forward, your body responding to his presence, to the scent rolling off him in thick waves. You didn’t understand why he smelt so good, better than usual. You didn’t understand why you were so wet, so aroused. Why you wanted Alastor to pin you against the wall and fuck you. You were completely clueless, banishing your thoughts as best you could. It wasn’t the first time such fantasies crossed your mind, so you thought nothing more of them.

“You look unwell, Alastor.” You say softly, reaching your hand up to brush against his forehead, his skin scalding beneath your touch.

He flinched at your touch, his hand grasping your wrist tightly, pulling it away. Guilt flooded you as you realized what you had done. You were typically so careful, being respectful of his boundaries, and never touching him without his express permission.

“I’m sorry!” You exclaim, face flushed in embarrassment.

Your mind was torn between being apologetic and the distracting feeling of his hand encircling your wrist in warmth. Why did just a simple touch have more heat pooling between your thighs? You needed to get a grip on yourself before you did or said something embarrassing. Alastor’s lips pulled back into a slight snarl, his control over his body slipping. He yanks you closer to the door, closer to him.

“Ah! Al!” You object as he opens the door further, pulling you into his room.

The door slams shut behind you, the lock clicking a moment later. For the first time since you had met the Radio Demon, a cold fear runs through you as you tumble to the floor. You turn around, watching him approach you. His eyes were dark with a predatory look that had you shivering, arousal cutting through your fear.

“You wanted to speak to me, so speak!” He demands, his smile straining.

“I-Alastor, are you okay?” You ask, pushing yourself to your feet, concern for him overriding everything else.

Static picks up around him, the sound deafening as he attempts to control his instincts. “I’m beginning not to be. Pray tell, what are you bothering me for?”

You swallow nervously, ears pressing down against your head as discontent swirls in your stomach. You didn’t like his sharp tone or the fact that he was clearly very annoyed by your presence.

“You’ve been avoiding me. I wanted to know if I’ve done something wrong.” You finally whisper, looking away from him.

Alastor laughs, sounding almost gleeful. The sound startles you enough to look back at him.

“Do you know what you’re doing to me?” He asks, voice strained, radio effect in full swing.

“What?” You ask, head tilting to the side in confusion. “What are you talking about? Have I done something wrong?”

He advances on you, each step full of intent. “My dear, I knew you were new to Hell, but not this new. Are you unaware of what season it is?”

Your brows furrow as you take a step back. “It’s October.”

He laughs again, eyes crinkling with mirth. “Yes, my dear, it is. And what happens to deers in October?”

You frown. “They mate? What are you getting at?”

Alastor stops in front of you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you against him. “You truly are clueless, my little doe.”

“What?” You ask slightly insulted.

“You.” He gestures to you as if that would explain everything. “My dear, are in heat.”

“I’m in what now?” You respond, head tilting in confusion once again.

He tilts your chin up with his thumb and pointer finger, correcting your head tilt. “Heat. You’re aroused right now, wanting, craving. Desperate and needy.”

You flush at his words, a bit embarrassed that he managed to see through you so easily. “H-how did you…?”

“Know?” He prompts, his mouth grazing against your lips teasingly. “Because my dear, I’m in the midst of my rut myself. And you smell divine.”

His lips brush against your neck, his nose bumping against your ear. You squeeze your eyes shut, your breath hitching at how close he is. With Alastor this close you can really smell his cologne and that musky scent beneath it. It does nothing but fan the flames rapidly building in your gut, your arousal growing. His hands find your hips, dragging you closer.

“Alastor?” You whisper, swallowing thickly as his mouth trails against your neck.

“Yes, my dear?” He asks softly, his tongue running along your sensitive skin.

You shiver at his touch, not having realized how feverish you felt until the touch of his mouth cooled your flushed skin.

“What’s happening to me?” you ask, a soft whimper falling from your lips as you pressed against him. “Why do I feel like this? Why do you make me feel like this?”

He chuckled, the sound low and baritone, sending more arousal pooling. “I told you, my dear. You’re in heat. Your body is craving a mate. To be taken, fucked, filled. Bred.”

You gasp, a soft, breathy moan falling from your lips as he kisses up your neck.

“And unfortunately for you, you came to me. So now I’m going to do just that.” He promises.

Your eyes flutter open at his words, at what that means for you. His words were not completely clicking yet, your arousal clouding the logical side of your mind.

“Alastor…” you breathe, meeting his gaze as he pulls back.

His eyes shone with an unnatural light, intensifying the reds and pinks. Alastor turns you around so that you’re facing the pocket dimension in his room, grinding his hips against your lower back. Your breath catches in your throat at the feeling of his erection.

He whispers in your ear, his breath fanning over the skin, making you feel both feverish and freezing all at once. “You’re going to run my dear. And when I catch you, I’m going to claim you as mine. Mate you.”

You feel Alastor take a step back, releasing his hold on you. You glance back at him, a mix of emotions warring within you. It was quickly becoming apparent that perhaps seeking Alastor out wasn’t such a grand idea. Especially when you didn’t exactly understand what was happening to you. Why you felt so feverish, why his scent alone was making you so aroused. He had mentioned deers and their mating season. It clicked in your mind then.

“I’m in heat?” You ask.

He meets your gaze, his smile softening despite the almost feral look in his eyes. “Yes, my little doe. An unfortunate side effect for us. A season you will go through every year around this time. Now do get running, you are wasting precious time.”

You face back towards the pocket dimension. The idea of running from Alastor, of him chasing you and catching you, was just making you more aroused.

Your feet moved on their own, propelling you forward as you set off. You tried to pace yourself, wondering just how long this chase could go on. You knew you wanted him to catch you, to pull you down into the mud of his bayou, and fuck you sensless. You took a shaky breath, turning abruptly to the left, weaving past trees, jumping over roots. You let the primal side of you take over, knowing your instincts would lead you when your logical mind was still grappling with the fact that you were in heat.

“Here I come, my little doe!” Alastor’s voice rang out, far too cheerful and full of promise.

His voice surrounds you, as though he was right behind you. You speed up, a thrill running through your entire body. Unfortunately for yourself, your body was quickly wearing down. You can feel yourself slowing, the adrenaline you'd started with faltering. At the sound of branches snapping underfoot, you glance behind you. You gasp, seeing Alastor closing the space between the both of you effortlessly. You were breathing hard, your muscles burning with the strain as you ran. Yet he barely seemed to be breaking a sweat. You look forward again, in enough time to barely avoid running straight into a tree. You stumble over a root, barely able to catch yourself. Your stumble is enough for Alastor to close the distance between you totally. He tackles you to the ground.

A fresh wave of adrenaline pumps through you, your body writhing beneath him as he pins you down. You attempt to kick his legs only for him to pin them beneath his. His knee spreads your legs, bumping right against your sensitive core. He pins your hands above your body, his face burying against your neck.

“Got you.” He whispers, rolling his hips against you.

You whine, the fight immediately leaving your body completely as desire replaces your adrenaline. Alastor shifts above you, his claws gliding seamlessly through your shorts and panties beneath. Your clothes fall from your frame in shreds, a gasp spilling from you. The cold, autumn air of the bayou fans over your hot core, only adding to your desire. He shreds your shirt next, his mouth finding yours as he frees his throbbing cock from his sweatpants. You moan as he nudges the throbbing tip of it against your entrance. Alastor sits back, running his cock through your slick folds, bumping into your clit.

“I’m going to mate you, my dear. Make you mine completely.” He presses the tip against your entrance again, rocking his hips forward.

You whimper as he nudges your entrance open, already stretching you with a delicious burn. You try to pry your hands free from his grip as he presses inside you. You wanted to grab ahold of him, to brace yourself as he began to enter you. He was thick and long, much bigger than you had ever taken before.

“Alastor!” You moan, thrashing against his hold. “You're so big!”

He smirks, his ego clearly being stroked, he leans down to capture your lips as he slid deeper inside you.

“That’s it my doe, you’re taking my cock so well. Just a little more to go.” He praises, continuing to push inch by inch inside you.

You gasp, your back arching in an attempt to pull away from him, while also rolling down onto his invading cock. “Too much! Alastor, it’s too much, you’re too big. You won’t fit!”

He chuckles, his mouth trailing kisses and nips all the way down your neck. “I assure you, darling. I’ll fit. And you-” He thrusts forward, raming in completely. “Will take me all.”

Another gasp falls from your lips, your hands twisting in his grasp as he bottoms out. His cock is pressed deep inside you, deeper than you thought was possible. His cock-head rests against your cervix, pressed right against it. His length feels impossibly hot, warming you from the inside out against the chill of the bayou. Alastor slowly withdraws his cock, leaving the tip inside, before he thrusts back into you. His hips snap against yours, causing you to cry out in both pain and pleasure. He repeats the movement, the time between each thrust shortening, until he’s fucking you hard and fast. The ground beneath the two of you depresses from your combined weight. Every thrust moves your body an inch or two away from him, only for Alastor to drag you back down against him. You moan loudly, cries filling the air and drowning out any sounds of the surrounding nature.

“That’s it.” He praises, “Taking me so well. You look absolutely darling on my cock, dear.”

Alastor drags your body up, shifting back on his haunches and bringing you up with him. The change in position allows him to fuck up into you, his cock sliding deeper. Breathless moans fell from your mouth, loud and wanton.

“Alastor-” You gasp, barely able to get out his name with how much pleasure you were feeling. “Please.”

He chuckles, twisting your hands beneath your back. It was unfair how unaffected he looked, as though he wasn’t also getting off to fucking you.

“What is it, my little doe?” He murmurs, pressing kiss after kiss against your neck, rubbing his scent against you.

“I’m so close-” You manage to say, eyes rolling back into your head as he bounces you on his cock.

Your body felt like it was on fire, every touch of his cooled you down while also stroking the arousal in your body. He presses forward, his pubic bone pressing against your clit with every thrust.

Alastor lowers his mouth to the crook of your neck, licking away the salty sweat of your skin. “Then cum for me.”

As though he had complete control over your body, your orgasm rips through you. You yell out loudly, your walls squeezing around his cock. Your release coats your thighs and his lower stomach. The sensation of your walls squeezing around his cock is too much for him. Alastor bites down on your shoulder harshly, drawing blood, marking you. He pulls you down onto his cock as he thrusts up into you, hips stuttering as he spills his seed inside you. Hot ropes of cum spill into your waiting, fertile womb. Your body shivers at the intensity of your combined pleasure. Alastor keeps rolling against you, gently thrusting as he fucks his seed deeper inside you.

“Ah- Al-astor!” You whimper, your body overly sensitive to his every touch.

He slows to a stop, buried balls deep inside you, his teeth still deeply embedded in your shoulder. He pulls away, releasing your shoulder from his mouth. Fresh wells of blood spill from the wound that he quickly laps up. The image of him lapping up your blood, his face covered in it, while his cock was buried inside you, was sinful. You shivered involuntarily, his cock remaining hard inside you.

You swallow down another whimper and voice the question you were dreading asking. “How long does this last?”

Alastor meets your gaze, his expression softening. “The rut lasts about a month, and breeding you can last anywhere from forty-eight to seventy-two hours. But worry not, my dear, I’ll make sure your every need is taken care of for the entire month. You’re my mate now, after all.”

You feel your blood drain from your face as the length of time clicks in your mind. If that was the case then you and Alastor would be locked together for days on end. You adored him, but that was a lot.

“I don’t know if I can do that.” You whisper, your body already feeling sore from just one round with him.

He leans forward, capturing your mouth with his as he kisses you deeply. You can taste your blood on his tongue and are surprised by how much it turns you on. Alastor pulls away a moment later, resting his forehead against yours.

“Fret not, my little doe, you can.” He whispers, his voice dropping an octave lower than you were used to. “And you will.”

You shiver, you were in for a long month.

#Alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #alastor x y/n smut #alastor x you smut #alastor x reader smut #alastor smut #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #tuneonins kinktober #fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfiction #my writing #smut

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networklovemp3 · 2 months ago

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3:33am ⏾

joshua x (gn) reader tags: 18+ MDNI, nsfw, not super explicit (m.) masturbation scene, used panties, fluff, silly sweetest of all time shua word count: 1.78k words an: my first time writing and posting something smutty!! please be nice and lmk how it is, i wrote this way too late at night but tried my best to edit it. likes and rbs and any other timestamp thoughts/requests are appreciated! i'd love to write more!! <3

after you both fell asleep earlier than usual, joshua wakes up in the middle of the night, mouth dry and feeling hot everywhere. there's a terrible ache in him, a want, a need, but he looks to his side and sees you're sleeping soundly one pillow over.

sighing a frustrated but quiet breath, joshua knows himself enough to know he won't willingly wake you from your sleep that you desperately needed. instead, he carefully peels himself away from you and the bed, and heads for the bathroom across the room. the door barely clicks shut, one of your night lights glowing on the wall, and he is alone to deal with himself.

joshua thinks about calming himself down so he can just go back to bed. he thinks about distracting himself. he thinks he should have better self control than this. he thinks about taking a cold shower, if only he could without waking you up. he thinks about you. he thinks about you. your warm skin back in bed, the way you snuggled into him before falling asleep, one of his t-shirts hanging off your shoulders... fuck.

so maybe the self control thing isn't working for him. he might as well get this over with as quickly as possible before you wake up and start to wonder where he is. he's already reached past his boxers and has one hand on himself, the other white-knuckled on the counter, when he spots the laundry basket in the corner of the bathroom.

he knows it's kind of gross, and probably disrespectful on some level, but before his blood can reach his brain to think it through joshua has your silky blue underwear in his hand and then wrapped around himself. it's so cooling and soft and smells like you and... oh. he presses his lips together to contain the noises that wish to escape and squeezes his eyes closed so tight they almost hurt.

it feels so, so good and he was already so pent up that the race ends almost as quickly as it starts, finishing all over the blue fabric as he fights for any sense of control. after his muscles start to relax, joshua allows himself a minute to control his breathing and to clean himself off, then he's rushing to get back into bed with you. he slips under the covers, this time wrapping himself against your back with much more relief settled into his bones.

"...shua?" he hears you murmur and his heart stutters with a brief flash of irrational panic. "i'm sorry, baby, did i wake you?" joshua places a soft kiss on your neck, trying to calm himself down. you sigh at the sweet brush of his lips, turning around to blearily blink up at him once, twice, three times. "no, just felt you coming back to bed," you whisper back to him. he presses another kiss to your forehead, and one on your nose, and you smile up at him so warmly.

you're placing your head back on his chest and sliding your hand innocently down his bare waist and across his stomach when joshua catches his breath involuntarily, still sensitive enough from moments ago when your fingers glide just above his waistband. suddenly, your eyes are shooting back up at him with an accusatory and confused look. "what did you do?" you ask, and joshua closes his eyes for a moment.

"i..."

"you just jerked off, didn't you!" you breath out all at once. "how could you possible know that!" joshua stares back at you in shock, doe eyes wide in the dark. "i know you only jump in your skin like that when i touch you after you've just finished," you roll your eyes knowingly, "now why did you do it without me?"

"i didn't want to wake you, you were so tired earlier. i just took care of it quickly by myself." he explains gently, but you still pout up at him. "i wouldn't have cared, shua, seriously, you can just wake me up next time. i wish you had." you place your hands gently on his shoulders. "oh... do you want me to....?" misunderstanding you, his eyes trail downwards meaningfully, with that concerned crease you love between his scrunched eyebrows.

"no, joshua, not right now," you sigh in affectionate exasperation, "sometimes... sometimes, i just want the opportunity to please you."

"you do please me though, like, all the time?" he blinks at you, still in confusion. "i know, i just mean... i mean pleasing you and that's it. sometimes i just want my boyfriend's dick in my mouth and that's all!" breathing out the last part all at once, you realize you had been keeping that thought in for quite a while. after all, you really do enjoy pleasing him.

"oh, um, i.... didn't know that's something you wanted," joshua looks utterly taken aback that you'd been wanting that, and that he has played a part in keeping it from you. after a pause, he smiles a slow, sinister smile down at you. "i think we can manage to arrange that in the future though, if it's what you really want."

you smile back at him and nod, feeling pleased to be on the same page finally. he pulls you close to him again and you both melt back into a comfortable, if slightly charged, silence. it doesn't last long before you think of something else.

"were you thinking of me, before, in the bathroom?" you whisper shyly into the base of his neck. you can tell he's smiling when he responds, "yes, of course. i'm always thinking of you. actually... i might've used your panties to help me out too."

the gasp you let out is playful, and you try to pull back to look at him again but he stops you in his tight hold. "i didn't know you were dirty like that, shua!" you tease, and joshua can feel his ears are turning cherry red. "you don't think it's kind of... weird and gross?"

"no, to be honest, it's kind of really hot... maybe along with my idea you should let me watch sometime..." you trail off in thought, and joshua lets out a strangled groan above you as if you physically harmed him.

before you know it, the entire conversation is being laughed off with many future acts in mind, and the two of you slip back into sleep before the sun rises.

#moongirl.writes ⏾#seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #joshua hong x reader #svt x reader #seventeen drabbles #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #svt smut #svt fluff #joshua hong smut #joshua hong fluff #hong jisoo smut #hong jisoo x reader #thank you svt and other writers for curing my writers block #thank u joshua for being so hot

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sevgilimsatoru · 2 months ago

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Error: 410 (Self Aware!AU Caleb Edition) Part 12

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 A/N

Summary: A self aware!AU with Caleb and NonMC! reader.

Tags: Caleb x reader, Caleb x NonMC! reader, Caleb x fem!reader, angst, fluff, Stressedout!reader, Hypersexual!reader.

Word count: 902

Inspired by: @ittybittyfanblog

A/N: Sorry, this isn't really a good chapter but I'm kind of sick and I have an important exam in a week. I haven't studied anything at all so I'm nervous about that too. It'll be fine. Take care ya'll. Have a good day!

"If you bled, I'll bleed the same if you're scared, I'm on my way

Did you run away? Did you run away? I don't need to know. If you ran away, if you ran away; Come back home

Just come home"

Caleb sat in his office, looking through reports. It was way past midnight; he should've gone home long ago but he couldn't. He was unable to find a way back to you.

He groaned, his gloved hand coming up to rub the bridge of his nose, closing the file. Nothing—nothing at all. He had looked through every restricted piece of information he could find in the logs of the fleet.

He could recite the words in his sleep, considering how many times he had read the same reports trying to find something.

Caleb needed to look elsewhere. Linkon City, DAA records, N109 zone, Onychinus, aether cores… deep space… whatever it took. No matter how long he'll keep searching.

But he'll have to be careful in using his influence. He couldn't gamble with the possibility of Ever finding out about his intentions. Caleb rolled his neck as he stood up, picking up the few files that might be of some importance.

He'll need to meet with a few old friends.

Returning to his apartment, Caleb booked the first flight to Lincoln City. He changed out of his colonel uniform, laying down on his bed. Putting on a song that you both used to listen to, he hoped that it would lull him to sleep and he'll dream of you tonight.

Caleb had gotten MC's new address; he had apologized and let her go, soon after he started realizing that keeping her with him wasn't doing either of them any favors.

Caleb stepped into the elevator, and a guy followed behind him. Pressing the button of the floor above MC's. Caleb's lilac eyes flickered down to look at him.

Silver hair, blue eyes, a few inches shorter than himself, fit. Wearing a white sweater and dark pants.

The guy seemed tired.

Caleb sighed, rubbing the exhaustion out of his eyes, leaning back against the elevator wall, and putting his hands inside his pockets. "Late night?" He asked, waiting for the guy to reply.

It took a moment for him to reply, shrugging. "You could call it that." He said, making Caleb smile slightly.

"Not the kind you are thinking of. I was working."

"Ahh… right. What do you do"? Caleb asked, silence falling between them.

"I'm a hunter." He replied, letting out a sigh. As if this conversation was making him exhausted. Caleb could feel his eyes on him, expecting an answer in return.

"I'm a DAA pilot," Caleb said, the lie slipping out as easily as breathing. The other guy didn't reply. Caleb didn't mind stepping out when the elevator dinged and the door opened.

Caleb walked over to MC's apartment, knocking on the door as he waited for her to open the door. MC was surprised when she saw Caleb; she knew he was going to visit, but not so soon.

She welcomes him inside, closing the door behind him. "I need a few favors." Caleb said, looking back at MC.

"What is this about? We haven't talked for months, and the first thing you ask of me is a favor? Really, Caleb?" She said with a scoff, walking up to him.

"It's a long story, I'll tell you. Just listen, Pipsqueak." Caleb said, watching as MC reluctantly sat down.

It took Caleb over an hour to recite almost everything. He didn't tell her a lot of things; that was for the best, and by the end of it. MC wasn't sure if she was more confused or concerned.

"So, you mean to tell me that you fell in love with a girl from some other universe and you want to find a way to go to her world so you can spend your life with her?" MC said, rubbing the back of her neck. She honestly wanted nothing more than to call Zayne and put Caleb in a psychiatric hospital.

She was sure he had lost his mind, but he seemed so sincere, to the point he came to her for help.

The Caleb she grew up with, who never cried, never needed help, and always had everything under control, was practically begging her for help.

It was weird and unsettling. The only person who was never swayed by anything looked like death trying to find some girl who didn't even exist.

"You'll do anything to find her?"

"Anything."

"I'll help you. If she makes you happy, then I'll help you go to her. I can't stand to see you like this. It's off-putting."

Caleb couldn't believe her words. She'll actually help him after all that he had done.

"Thanks, pips. I'll be in your debt for this."

"There is no need for that. Just go and get some sleep. And take care of yourself. You look like a walking corpse." MC said, picking up her phone. "There are a few people that I can ask..." she said, trailing off.

"Hello, Sylus?" Caleb heard her say into the phone. He just grunted, walking over to the couch and falling back on it. Things like these will take time, he knew.

But he can wait—he can wait for an eternity and more if it means he'll get to see you again, feel your warmth, and feel your heartbeat instead of just watching you and dreaming about you.

Caleb closed his eyes, watching MC look at him, her conversation on the phone blurring into a distant hum. Soon enough, he felt the warm embrace of sleep.

Tag list: @beewilko @browneyedgirl22 @aneertawrites @etsuniiru @demon-master-zero @angstylittleb1tch @mcdepressed290 @ittybittyfanblog @winwinwrites @alifyairl @huhleighna @calebsbeanpeeler @bookworrm1999 @mentaltrouble2201 @noxus123 @babyx91 @multisstuff @beomluvrr @sunnylittleapple @lunia-likes-pomegranet @imhere2dosomething @lostpsycho13 @april-likes-smut @calebsbabyapple @mephisto-with-a-knife @wooasecret @anatherone

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fixyourwritinghabits · 4 months ago

Text

Editing Part ????: Final Steps (That You'll Repeat)

HI THIS POST WAS SUPPOSED TO GO UP IN JANUARY. Uuuh things. Are happening. In the US. Alas.

ANYWAY, to wrap up our editing tips. Some of this you'll do on your own, some of it you'll need feedback on, a lot of it is going back and forth between various edits. It is a process.

Tone and Voice

In review, is your character's voice consistent? Do they remain solid as a character, or do they wildly change in how they speak and act in the middle of the book for no reason?

When it comes to tone, are you writing with a consistently used vocabulary and structure? I'm not talking about dialogue - does your story feel the same, no matter if it's in third person or first?

A tonal shift or word change might happen if you've been working a long time on a project, and that's just a matter of going back through the book to make sure things match up.

Tension and Pacing

Does the action rise and fall naturally? Are your characters given room to breathe when appropriate?

Have you resolved (or addressed) all your subplots? Did you leave any romance or relationships dangling? Are there any chunks of your book that feel like a side-quest that doesn't contribute to the rest of the plot?

How is your scene pacing? Like your book, your scenes can't be 100% tension - they need to rise and fall. Fights and action should build naturally. If you're dropping a character into a situation with no foreshadowing, or if they obtain some new nifty power without really earning it, you might be throwing the pacing off.

Again, this just takes going back over to see what little things you need to set up to make the pay-off worth it.

Line Edits

Hopefully you've saved this for last, I know you won't, I know I won't, but fiddling with the language is going to be better done at the very end. Look out for:

Overused Words and Phrases - I find with each project, I become overly fond of one particular word. It's useful and fantastic until it pops up a little too often, and then I need to work on changing it up. Same with phrases - if you're brain is like mind, it'll find a neat little turn of phrase and repeat that six or eight times when you only needed it once.

Hedging Words - Almost, nearly, not quite, seems, appears, etc - these words are perfectly fine in academic writing, but they weaken your descriptive work. Instead of saying "he almost hit me" for example, describe the motion and the character's reaction. If someone seems upset, how can you describe that through their body language?

Dialogue Tags - You can use fun dialogue tags, and you don't have to delete every -ly abverb attached to "said." However, as boring as it seems, keeping it simple with mostly using "said" and "replied" will do most of the job.

Re-Checking Sentence Structure - If all your sentences within a paragraph follow the same structure, your reader is likely to start to skim. Change things up with shorter sentences paired with longer ones. Chunk actions scenes with short, punchy sentences, make sure descriptive paragraphs don't have sentences that go on for way too long.

Feedback

There's no easy way to find a good critique partner. I wish there was. You can and should join writer's groups and offer exchanges, be they online or in person. Sometimes you can love someone's work, but you don't mess with them as a critique partner. It happens, keep trying.

When you do find a critique partner, it's always good to give them guidance on what you're looking for. Some good questions:

Pacing - When did they put the story down? Why?

Consistency - Was anything confusing? Did the character's choices make sense?

Plot - Where there any twists that were too obvious? Did the stakes feel important? Was the plot satisfying?

A Note on "Predictable" Plot

There is a consistent argument about predictive plots versus originality, but thinking too hard about it may lead you astray. Certain genres have expectations - cosy murders will be solved, romance will end with the leads getting together, etc. Readers often go into stories wanting some predictability, because it's the journey of the story that matters the most. Making sure the story is engaging to read is far more important than trying to be original.

That said, you'll find in your second and third drafts that you will be able to put your own design on familiar stories. Treading familiar ground in the first draft is common, but when taking another crack of it, you can raise the stakes and make that ending much more satisfying.

Good luck!

#editing #writblr #writing tips

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puripurin · 1 year ago

Text

— "What the fuck." You started at the merman who wriggled around for space. His eyes looked at you in fear as he saw you, before a blush had spread across his face.

Up until 30 seconds ago, you had lived a normal life, well, except for the obscene amount of work you were stressed out with. So you hopped on the boat your parents had gifted you some years ago and sailed into the sea. The feel of the ocean breeze hitting your face was a familiar sensation to you.

This was because your parents were fishermen and loved to eat seafood, and naturally, you had gravitated towards seafood, but with prices these days and your never-ending workload, it didn't allow you to do anything without setting you back on your tight deadlines. Until today.

You had gotten a whole week of paid vacation because a coworker was threatening to bring them to court for a long list of harassment. So they gave the people who worked the most a one week paid vacation. Though, to her, it wasn't enough, so you're getting a paid vacation week while they are still going to get sued. Whatever, its their fault either way.

Anyways, how did you reel in a merman that shouldn't even exist? Frankly, you don't know either. You had accidentally started to daydream, which turned into you not realizing something was caught, so instinctively, you were able to reel in a merman.

"H-huuuumann?" His deep moss green eyes stared at up at you with interest whilst you nearly got blinded by the shimmering gleem of his scales that were scattered across his cheeks. He stopped his advancements towards you until it was difficult to hold up his neck to see you.

"Erm... sorry for catching you, I was daydreaming. I'll unhook the fish hook attached to you..." You apologized and went down to unhook him, only for him to pull down your pants and underwear down, making you fall on the bench below you and stuffing his face in your genitals.

"Hey! W-what are you doing?" You pushed his face away, to which he pouted to. He sat there for a while as you tried to push him off the boat, to no avail.

"I... Accceppt thhis marrriaage!" He excitedly said as he tugged on your pants to gently pull it off again, but you held on tightly to your pants.

"What marriage? I didn't propose to you?" You evaded from his pulling hands in confusion.

"Whennn youuu reeeeledd mmeee inn dummmyy!" He slurred his words once more. "Shtop! I waant too tasstte you firrst beeforrre you tassteeee mee!" He huffed before his nails turned into sharp claws that shreaded your pants, then pulled down your underwear again and happily stuffing his face and licking your crotch with his tongue that felt rough.

Once more, you tried to move away but only ended up moaning at the feeling. Your face was slightly hot as you looked away but was swiftly pulled back in for a kiss, tasting your own fluids.

"Ah... finally... now it's your turn, cutie pie. We have to go to my hometown to get married <3"

"WHAT!?!? Firstly, no! Secondly, i will drown!"

"... Who said you can say no? When you reeled me, it was akin to a marriage proposal. Also, that's why you suck my dick and kiss me <333"

"WHAT--"

Was supposed to be posted yesterday, but when i saved a portion of it, i didn't see that i was save so i went back in to edit it to see what's rong before i saved it and for a slpilt second i saw the rest of it before it saved, so i lost majority of my work.

So now it looks like tjis. Womp womp. I think tjis is an afab reader? But i tried to make it gn as possible but i wannted a weird ass mermaid culture where to speak another's language, you gotta eat them out/suck them off before kissing person to speak. At first i wanted him to just kiss in order to get the language js like starfire but i was like,, so what do i do with him tryna eat you out??,, then boom yeahh.

Also, yo quero voy en me casaaaaaa *cries pathetically* No me gusta Español :((((((( not proofread. L

Edit: i forgot about tags. Mb.

#yandere #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere monster #yandere monster x reader #monster x reader

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daisynik7 · 2 years ago

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Teach Me, Senpai!

Pairing: Ino x f!reader x Nanami

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~2.6k

cw: smut - threesome, spit-roast, PIV sex (doggy style), blow job, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, Nanami is sorta a perv oops, Ino calls Nanami senpai, a hint of a breeding kink, use of pet names, everyone is an adult here in case that doesn’t come across clearly

Summary: Takuma Ino is your silly, golden retriever boyfriend who brings you along to meet his mentor, Nanami Kento. You’ve heard a lot about him, mostly because your boyfriend constantly praises him for being so amazing. You underestimate how close their relationship is until Ino starts asking his "senpai" for pointers on how to spice things up in the bedroom. What better way to learn than to demonstrate, right?

Author’s Note: I'm currently in heat, can you blame me? I tried my best to edit and proofread, sorry if there are any glaring grammar mistakes or typos, please ignore! Tagging @todorosie @crazychaoticizzy @gojoloves @brightnessemma @batafuraikisu (I know you didn't ask, but I'm tagging you anyways bc ily and I think you'd like this lol). I'm sorry if I missed any tags, Tumblr wouldn't let me tag you! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciate, thank you for reading! MDNI divider by @/cafekitsune.

“You’re going to love him, I swear!” Ino insists, dragging you down the hallway of the office building, past empty cubicles. It’s past five and all the employees are out for the remainder of the day.

“I just don’t see why I have to meet him,” you argue, following him reluctantly.

“Because he’s important to me! He’s my mentor, my senpai! I have the highest respect for him, and I think it’s cool for you to finally put a face to a name. Aren’t you curious about the guy I’m always talking about?”

“Not really,” you answer, rolling your eyes. Honestly, you’ve grown sick of hearing your boyfriend gush so much about this Nanami fellow. You’re starting to feel jealous about how highly he thinks of this other man. “Why are we even here? This seems like a very random meeting spot.”

“We debrief here sometimes after our missions. He used to be a salary man, so I guess they still let him use the office.” They arrive at a closed door at the end of the hall. Ino knocks twice, a bright smile on his face, a little too excited for this.

A well-built blonde man answers, donning a blue dress shirt and spotted tie. You immediately notice how large his hands are, clenched to the door frame, staring at you from behind steampunk glasses. “Hello.”

“Nanami! Hey! This is my girlfriend, the one I’ve been telling you about.” You introduce yourself to him with a handshake, confirming that they are indeed very big compared to yours. You feel guilty noticing something that can be misconstrued as inappropriate, even lewd in most cases, so you quickly let the thought fade, stepping inside the room.

It’s a normal looking office, quite barren, except for the few papers stacked on the desk and a map posted on one of the walls. There’s a single chair facing the table, so you take that as Ino stands beside you, arm around your shoulders. “Thanks for letting us stop by. I really wanted to introduce you two to each other.”

Nanami nods curtly, leaning on the edge of the desk in front of you. Your eyes almost drift toward his crotch, curious about his size, but you resist the temptation, ashamed of yourself for even imagining something so completely wrong, especially with your boyfriend right next to you. “You said you wanted to speak to me about something,” he says, focusing on Ino. He removes his glasses, tucking them in his breast pocket.

“Ah, right! Well, I’m a little shy to ask, especially since I haven’t mentioned it to her yet…” Ino scratches his nape nervously, tugging his beanie to cover his reddening ears.

You look at him, confused. “What are you talking about?”

He bites his lip, choosing his words carefully before speaking. “Well, you know how you and I have been…you know, having some trouble in the bedroom?”

At that, you immediately freeze, gaping at him, shocked. A strangled noise comes out of Nanami’s throat, equally jarred.

Ino continues. “I want to get some advice from someone I really trust, like Nanami.” He glances between you, waiting for a response, an uneasy grin on his face.

You’re stunned, heat surrounding your entire body now, mortified that your boyfriend would casually bring this up without any warning whatsoever. It’s no secret to either of you that your sex life has gotten a bit lackluster recently. Besides missionary and the occasional blowjob, there isn’t much else that you’ve tried in the bedroom. Neither of you are that experienced to begin with, and you both lack the confidence to initiate something different, something new. It’s a matter that you’ve been meaning to resolve privately. Or so you thought.

No one speaks for what feels like an eternity. You’re tempted to grab your boyfriend and haul ass out of there, hoping this entire conversation can be forgotten or played up to be some kind of cruel, sick joke. However, you remain seated, curiously anticipating Nanami’s response. After all, you haven’t flat-out refused yet, and neither has he.

Nanami clears his throat. “What kind of advice do you need?” You’re surprised that he’s even entertaining the idea.

“I just want a few tips on how to spice things up,” Ino answers. “Make it more enjoyable for her.” He puts his arm around you again, squeezing your shoulder. You don’t know whether to punch him or kiss him; the arousal growing between your legs says the latter. The thought of another man who’s practically a stranger instructing your eager boyfriend on how to pleasure you is titillating and definitely something different, something new. You won’t deny it: you’re intrigued.

Nanami crosses his arms over his chest, avoiding either of your gazes, focused on the floor instead. “I will help, if you both consent to it.”

Ino turns to you with puppy dog eyes. “Babe, you cool with this?”

Too invested now to refuse, you reply, “Sure.”

Your boyfriend lets out a sigh of relief, the tension relaxing in the air surrounding you. “Sweet. Me too.” He looks at Nanami, a bright smile on his face now, clearly thrilled about this. “What’s first, senpai?”

Nanami clears his throat again, standing up straight, taking a step towards you. “Well, foreplay is always a good place to start.”

Ino sticks his finger up. “Right! Foreplay. Uh, do you have a pen and paper so I can take notes…?”

“You don’t seriously need to take notes on foreplay, do you?” he snaps. “It’s as simple as kissing and touching on all the right spots.”

“What spots are those?”

“It’s probably better if you ask her.” Nanami points to you, making direct eye contact. “Where do you like to be touched?”

You swallow hard, timid from being put on the spot like this. “Just the normal places.”

“The two of you have to communicate better if this is ever going to work out,” he says, a hint of impatience in his tone. “Show him.”

Committing to this fully now, you stand up, grab Ino’s hand and brush it against your lips. “I like it when you kiss me. And when you touch my lips.”

He smiles at you. “That’s good.”

“You can also put your fingers in my mouth every once in a while. If you want,” you suggest, licking the tip of his middle finger.

He smirks. “Yeah. I definitely want that, too.”

“Sometimes, it’s better to learn by doing it,” Nanami interjects, watching the two of you carefully.

You gaze at Ino’s lips, then into his eyes, nodding. He leans in, kissing you slowly. He’s always been a good kisser, a great one, actually. The problem is that he’s too gentle with you.

“Kiss her neck,” Nanami orders, arms at his sides now, hands clenched into tight fists.

Ino follows, trailing down your chin until he’s at your neck, sucking on your skin.

“Put your fingers in her mouth. She said she likes that, right?”

Ino hums, tracing the outline of your lips with his thumb before pushing it in. You surround him, using your grip to pump him in and out of you. His other hand drifts to your waist, teasing the elastic of your pants.

“Are you getting wet, sweetheart?” Nanami’s voice is low and sultry; the use of the pet name has you unraveling much quicker than you expect. Without thinking, you breathe out, “Yes,” pushing his fingers deeper down your throat.

“Fuck, baby,” Ino moans, hot on your ear. “Where else do you want to be touched?”

You pull him out, swallowing your thick saliva, placing his hand between your legs. “Touch me here.”

Ino, eyes glossy with lust, slowly shimmies your pants down your legs, revealing your soaked panties. “Oh shit, you really are wet, fuck.”

“Eat her out,” Nanami demands. There’s a desperate gruffness in his voice that’s undeniable now, and one glance is all it takes for you to realize that he’s hard, an impressive bulge strained in his slacks. He shoves all his belongings off the desk, making room for you. “Here. Do it here.”

Ino curses under his breath, cock stiff in his sweats, leading you to the table, where you sit at the edge, spreading your thighs open for him. He slips your panties off, licking his lips before diving into your arousal, tongue pressed firmly on your clit. “Fuck,” you moan, squirming from the sensation.

Nanami walks to the other side, near your head, staring at Ino’s face buried in your pussy. Instinctually, you reach for him, pulling him by the belt, tongue hanging out. His eyes flit to yours, surprised when you say, “Touch me, senpai.”

Ino moans into you, clearly turned on by it. Obliging, Nanami hoists your shirt off, leaving you in just your bra, which he hastily unhooks to bare your chest. Bending towards you, he wraps his lips around one breast, suckling at your teat, his hand working the other nipple, pinched between his fingers. You’re close to your climax; you just need a little bit more. As if he can read your mind, Nanami releases you with a pop, saying, “Suck on her clit until she comes. Fuck her with your fingers at the same time.” His sudden vulgarity spurs you on, grinding your hips against your boyfriend’s face, pulling Nanami back to your tits.

Ino muffles, puckering his lips around you, sliding his middle finger inside you. You throw your head back on the desk, ecstasy rippling through your entire being, knees shaking with sensitivity.

“Yeah, she likes that,” Nanami purrs, flicking his tongue on your peaked nipples. “Put another in. One at a time, until she’s full.”

Ino manages to fit three of his digits inside you before you orgasm with him latched to your swelling bud, coating him in your slick. He doesn’t stop licking until you’ve come down from your high, pushing his head away, overstimulated. Nanami removes himself from you, unbuckling his belt, watching intently as your boyfriend slips his wet fingers inside your mouth. “Taste yourself babe. You’re so fucking good.” You slurp your own juices off him, pussy throbbing, aching to be fucked.

“You like that, don’t you, sweetheart?” Nanami murmurs, shimmying out of his pants, erection protruding from his briefs. He palms it, rubbing his thumb over the wet spot oozing from the tip. “Ino, tease her a little bit.”

“Yes sir,” he salutes, pulling down his bottoms, cock sprung against the hem of his sweater. He taps the tip of his dick on your puffy bud, smiling wide as you writhe for him. “Damn, baby. I’ve never seen you this wet before.”

“It’s a good thing you came to me then, isn’t it?” Nanami mentions, wiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. “Now turn around for us, princess. It’s going to feel so much better for you like this.”

You obey, readjusting your body to bend over the desk, ass pushed towards Ino, desperate to be used by them both. Your boyfriend positions his cock at your entrance, huffing, “You ready, baby?”

“Yeah. Fuck me, Ino,” you moan. “Fuck me hard.”

He glides in slowly, stretching you out little by little, easing into you. Once he’s all the way in, groin pressed to your ass, he starts thrusting at a steady pace. It increases gradually until he’s pounding away at you, hitting that sweet spot over and over until your eyes glaze over, in a total state of bliss.

Nanami studies you, enjoying the show until he notices you staring at the bulge in his briefs, tongue lolling, practically begging for him. He smirks at you. “You want all your holes stuffed, don’t you, sweetheart?”

You nod, drool leaking from the sides of your mouth, eyes weepy, peering up at him. How could he resist such a cock hungry slut like you? Especially when you look at him like this?

“I’m going to give you my cock then. Think you can take it?” he asks, shoving his underwear off, cock flopping against his abdomen.

“Oh yeah, she can fucking take it,” Ino grunts, hands gripped to your hips, still fucking you with fervor. “Right babe?” He delivers a fresh slap to your ass, which echoes off the walls of the office.

“Yeah, I can take it,” you mumble, gulping down the spit collecting on your tongue.

Nanami hums, satisfied with your answer, inching his dick closer to your mouth. “Open up for me, sweetheart.”

You do, swallowing him until he bottoms out to the back of your throat, testing your gag reflex. He stays still, staring at you, relishing this lewd sight. “Ino, your girlfriend looks so pretty with my cock in her mouth. Don’t you agree?”

“Fuck, yeah. So fucking hot how she just takes it. She’s a good girl, always has been,” he says from behind you, spreading your cheeks open to watch himself disappear into your pussy with each thrust.

“You’re a lucky man,” Nanami mutters, tipping your chin up, gazing into your eyes. “And you’re a lucky girl, aren’t you? Getting fucked by your boyfriend and his senpai.” Nanami begins to move, pumping himself in and out of your hungry mouth, your tongue running along the underside of his dick.

Ino shrugs his beanie off, running his fingers through his hair, damp with perspiration. “Oh fuck, baby, you’re taking us so fucking good.”

“Like a proper slut,” Nanami adds, tracing the outline of your lips, glossy with spit, stretched around his shaft. “Do you suck his cock as good as you suck mine?”

You nod, swallowing your gag reflex as the tip of his dick hits the back of your throat with each solid thrust of his hips. Your second orgasm approaches quickly, your pussy clenching Ino’s cock, though you can’t say anything while gobbling up Nanami’s cock, so you let it be, continuing to be spit-roasted over the desk, thirsty for their cum.

“Fuck, I’m going to come soon,” Ino says, slowing his pace. “I’ve never…I’ve never come inside her before.”

Nanami, still relishing his blow job, asks, “Why not?”

“Too scared to get her pregnant,” he admits. It’s true; Ino always pulls out, even when you beg him to finish inside you. You appreciate that about him, but in this moment, you want nothing more than his cream pie filling you up.

“Is she on birth control?”

“Y-Yeah.”

Once again, as if psychic, Nanami responds, “Then I’m sure she wouldn’t mind getting your load just this once. Right, sweetheart?”

Your words are muffled. Nanami pulls out, cock wet with your spit, stroking it in his fist. “What was that, princess?”

“I said yes! Give it to me, Ino!” you whine, shaking around him.

“Fuck, are you sure, baby? You sure you want it?”

“Give it to me. Want you to breed me,” you blurt out.

“That’s it, that’s a good girl,” Nanami coos, slapping the head of his cock on your tongue. “How about here? You want it here too?”

You glance at Ino, who’s watching. He nods, licking his lips. “Yes. Want your cum inside me, senpai,” you reply.

He smirks, pushing himself back inside you, his length sliding on every inch of your tongue. “Good girl.”

It doesn’t take long for both men to come, Ino shooting his seed deep into your womb, stuffing you full, Nanami spurting ribbons into your mouth, guzzling down each drop. They pull out slowly, cocks sensitive now from the stimulation. You roll over onto your back, catching your breath, looking up at them with a satisfied smile on your face.

Nanami cups your cheek in his hand, thumb brushing delicately against your skin. “Such a messy girl. I think she needs a few more lessons. What do you think, Ino?”

Your boyfriend’s eyes are blown wide, staring at the lewd sight before him, your pussy leaking with his cum, your mouth drooling with Nanami’s. “Yeah. Definitely needs more, senpai.”

#nanami kento #nanami kento smut #nanami smut #nanami x reader #ino x reader x nanami #ino takuma x reader #takuma ino x reader #takuma ino smut #ino takuma smut #ino x reader x nanami smut #nanami kento x reader #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami smut #nanami x you #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut

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smartkookiee · 6 months ago

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Wounds We Never Show // Ch.6 — jjk.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・ ❥pairing: Jungkook x Reader (she/her, afab) ❥genre/rating: 18 +explicit content, enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers, enemies with benefits ❥chapter warnings/tags: More of a funny chapter, some fluff, Taehyung being the biggest menace on the planet, Some touching (Not sexy touching sorry lol, its worth it), hella tension, dirty thoughts hehehehe, more confused feelings, stress, yoongi mentioned, seokjin continuing to make vics life hard, Jungkook is bad at feelings, drinking, swearing, smoking, y/n continuing to be the biggest avoider of the century, they are getting better just trust me, healthy communicating??? Ji-eun continuing to be my fav ❥word-count: 11.6k ❥Series Masterlist Previous Chapter ||❥|| Next chapter ❥Playlist fic is cross posted to ao3 send an ask or comment on post to be added to the taglist! a/n: This is like 85% edited right now so sorry if there are mistakes but I wanted to get this chapter out as soon as possible! So enjoy and if you see a mistake no you didn't and Happy Holidays! .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・

Five years ago

“Come on! Let me take you out. You don’t even have to think about the breakup anymore,” Taehyung called out, trailing after Jungkook as he moved from his bedroom to the kitchen, then back again.

Namjoon had texted Taehyung earlier, saying Jungkook had been sulking around the apartment for days. The breakup was mutual—or so Jungkook claimed—but it was still a gut punch. He and his girlfriend had been together since the start of college, and the shift from something so constant to nothing at all wasn’t easy to navigate. Jungkook hadn’t gone into much detail, just muttering something about them not wanting the same things anymore.

His silence, though, was worrying his friends.

Jungkook barely acknowledged Taehyung, focused on shoving notes and books into his backpack. “I can’t, Tae. I have to meet my project partner.” he muttered, his voice laced with mild frustration.

Taehyung leaned casually against the doorway, arms crossed, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “The one who already doesn’t like you? Sounds like a good enough excuse to put it off.”

“I can’t,” Jungkook said, sharper this time. “She already doesn’t like me, so being late will just make it worse. I’m barely tolerated as it is. We’ve been working on this for weeks, and it’s been nothing but cold shoulders and annoyed muttering.” He slung his backpack over his shoulder, heading for the front door.

Taehyung wasn’t giving up so easily. “So...is this the same partner you were complaining about before?”

“Yes.” Jungkook groaned, not breaking stride.

“Well, maybe I should come along. I’m great with people. Could smooth things over—”

“No,” Jungkook cut him off, opening the door. “Anything connected to me seems to make it worse.”

Taehyung kept pace, still grinning. “But you’re already late. What’s five more minutes? I can be a neutral third party. Mediate, make her laugh, maybe even—”

“No.” Jungkook protested again, but Taehyung followed him. Then kept following him all the way to the library.

Once inside, Jungkook scanned the study area. He spotted you almost immediately at a small table in the corner, papers spread around you like a protective barrier. You were frowning, your hand moving quickly across a page as you scribbled something down, a furrow of frustration etched between your brows.

“Alright, time for you to leave.” Jungkook hissed, spinning around and shoving at Taehyung’s shoulder.

But Taehyung wasn’t going anywhere. He caught sight of you, and his playful expression shifted to one of delight. His mouth fell open, and then a slow, mischievous smile tugged at his lips. “Well, hello, gorgeous.” he muttered under his breath.

Jungkook frowned. “What?”

“You didn’t mention she was hot.” Taehyung said, his grin only widening and a wiggle to his eyebrows. “I can work with this.”

Jungkook groaned, grabbing at Taehyung’s arm to stop him, but Taehyung sidestepped him easily, practically skipping as he made his way over to you. You were deep into some calculations for your math class and you felt like you were going insane when someone sat across from you, you peered up to see a stranger swiftly pulling out another chair at your table.

“Hi.” He said warmly, tilting his head as if he’d just stumbled into a casual coffee chat.

Raising an eyebrow to him, you blinked, your pencil pausing mid-air. “Hi? I’m sorry, do I know you?”

Taehyung shook his head, “No, I’m Taehyung.” He held a hand out to you to shake.

You hesitated for a beat, then placed your hand in his for a quick, polite shake. “Nice to meet you, Taehyung. I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m actually waiting for someone.”

“Ah, don’t worry. I won’t take up too much of your time.” Taehyung said smoothly, leaning back in his chair. “I’m here on a mission.”

You let out a heavy sigh, “If it’s to ask for my number or anything like that. I’m not interested.”

Taehyung waves you off, not that he would mind slipping you his number, “Nothing of the sort… I mean unless you like what you see.” Taehyung leans back posing in his chair, and you can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of him. “I’m actually here to get some information.”

“Okay?” You cross your arms over your chest, an amused grin on your face. Jungkook from a small distance amazed you haven’t bitten Taehyung's head off.

Taehyung nodded gravely, but his eyes sparkled with mischief. “I’ve come on behalf of my dear, troubled friend, Jungkook.”

Your polite smile faded instantly, replaced by a tight line of irritation. Casting a quick glance past Taehyung. Sure enough, Jungkook was standing a short distance away, half-hidden behind a bookshelf. His expression torn between embarrassment and dread. “I have to apologize Taehyung–”

“You can call me Tae.” He grins with a wink, and you roll your eyes.

“Okay Tae. I don’t know you well enough to get into all those details.”

“How about we have dinner and discuss it then?” Taehyung scoots his chair closer to yours leaning his arms on the table. Just at that moment a hand comes down on Taehyung's shoulder, he glances up to see an annoyed Jungkook towering above him.

“That’s enough.” Jungkook wants to avoid your annoyance at him increasing any further by Taehyung's antics.

“You’re late,” you said pointedly, your tone icy as you picked your pencil back up and focused on your notes. Refusing to look at Jungkook.

“Can you see why?” Jungkook gestured to Taehyung and took another seat at the table. Taehyung rubbing his chin glancing between the two of you with some amusement.

“Wow, there really is some hostility here… almost electric.” Taehyung leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as his gaze shifted between you and Jungkook. His grin was as sharp as a knife, cutting through the tension with deliberate ease. “For the sake of Jungkook’s sanity—and mine—I have to know. Did he ghost you? Forget a birthday? Sleep with you and never call you again?”

Your eyes widened, disbelief freezing you for a beat before your voice finally squeaked out, “Excuse me?”

“Tae.” Jungkook kicks his leg under the table and Taehyung winces.

“I was just curious!” Taehyung raises both of his arms up in surrender, “Seriously, what did he do?” He pressed, eyes sparkling with mischief as he ignored Jungkook’s obvious irritation.

You shifted in your seat, feeling caged in under their expectant stares, but your posture stayed composed. You refused to let them see you squirm. “I thought I already said I don’t know you well enough for the details?” You replied coolly, hoping to deflect.

“Well,” Taehyung said, clearing his throat as if settling in for a monologue. “I’m Kim Taehyung. I’m a Capricorn. I enjoy wine and find most other alcohol kind of overrated. Jungkook’s one of my closest friends, like, ever. I love dogs, but I have a massive respect for cats. See? We know each other better already.”

His brazen confidence was so unexpected it caught you off guard, drawing a small laugh from your lips despite yourself. “That’s all fine and good,” You said, shaking your head, “but this is personal, Tae.”

“Can I at least put in a good word for him?” Taehyung raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow, gesturing toward Jungkook like he was trying to sell a piece of furniture.

You hesitated, glancing at Jungkook than back to Taehyung. “Alright.”

Jungkook was surprised you were even entertaining his theatrics. Taehyung’s face lit up in triumph, and he shot Jungkook a smug look before leaning in like he was about to share a juicy secret. “Okay, listen. Whatever he did to earn this… frustration from you, I can guarantee it wasn’t on purpose. Either that, or he’s completely oblivious. Probably the second one, honestly.”

You tried not to let his words affect you, but the sincerity in his voice was hard to ignore. He didn’t seem like he was messing with you.

“Here’s the thing,” Taehyung continued, his tone dropping lower as if the next part was especially important. “Jungkook’s one of the best people I know. Seriously. He’s somewhat dumb sometimes, sure, but he’s also loyal and… well, kind of a big softie. I think whatever’s going on here is probably just a huge misunderstanding.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the honesty in his words.

Then, as if he couldn’t resist, Taehyung grinned again and reached over to pinch Jungkook’s cheek. “Plus, he’s a big baby and such a cutie, right?”

Jungkook groaned, swatting Taehyung’s hand away. “Stop.”

“No, seriously,” Taehyung insisted, turning to you with exaggerated curiosity. “He’s cute, right?”

You froze like a deer in headlights, eyes darting between them. “I mean… he’s alright, I guess.” you said, shrugging in an attempt to play it cool. It wasn’t like you hadn’t noticed Jungkook’s looks, they were hard to miss, but you weren't really on the market these days.

“Okay, but what about me?” Taehyung tilted his head, all innocent. “Am I more than just ‘alright’?”

“Goodbye, Taehyung.” Jungkook stood abruptly, tugging Taehyung up from his seat. “We’re leaving.”

Jungkook got up from his seat trying to pull Taehyung away from his own. Taehyung resists for a moment, snatching your pencil to quickly scribble his number down on a blank piece of paper you had out.

“Call me.” Taehyung lifts his hand up to hear ear to motion for you to call, as he is getting dragged away by Jungkook. Far out of your sight from your table. You glance down at the number, it was poorly written but you could still make it out.

You knew you wouldn’t call but Taehyung's genuine honesty and unabashed personality was a breath of fresh air. At least you could really only hope everything he said was real and not him covering for Jungkook.

After a minute Jungkook returned to the table, annoyance written all over his face. He took his seat again with a heavy sigh. “Sorry… about him.”

“Oh, it’s okay. I could tell he meant well.” You brush him off and continue to write something in your notebook. “Seems like a good friend.”

“He is.” Jungkook nods, finally taking the time to pull out his own books and notes. “Just a tad nosy.”

“You think?” You raise an eyebrow with a small smile, presenting the phone number. “Severely cocky too.”

Jungkook laughs, shaking his head at the horribly written numbers on the page. “Yeah, you’re welcome to burn that.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・

Present Day

Taehyung had always been nosy, maybe even intrusive at times. He really just liked being in people's business and being in the know. This time though, he just happened upon this information and wasn’t really trying to be involved. He really couldn’t help himself in this case.

“If you tell me what’s going on with you and Y/N.” Taehyung said, propping his chin in the palm of his hand. His elbow rested on the table as he studied Jungkook with a knowing glint in his eye.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, his voice steady, though a flicker of unease slipped into his tone. He casually raised his drink to his lips, taking a slow sip as if the conversation was of no consequence.

Taehyung grinned wider, his head tilting. “Oh, come on. Don’t play dumb. I saw you.”

Jungkook frowned faintly, still feigning confusion. “Saw me what?” Jungkook didn’t react—not outwardly, at least. Years of navigating intense courtroom scrutiny made him a master of keeping a cool exterior. But beneath the surface, his pulse quickened.

“You and Y/N. Leaving together after emo night.”

Jungkook blinked once, twice. “Okay?”

“Okay?” Taehyung repeated, drawing the word out mockingly. He leaned forward just enough to make Jungkook feel cornered. “Y/N wouldn’t share a fry with you, let alone a ride home. It doesn’t add up. So I started thinking.” He paused, tapping his fingers rhythmically on the table, each tap feeling like a provocation. “At first, I let it go. People share cars sometimes, sure. But then Jimin mentioned you’ve been acting... off. Quiet. Weird.”

“It’s called maturity,” Jungkook quipped dryly. “You should try it sometime.”

Taehyung snorted, leaning back in his chair. “Maturity? You? The guy who stress-ate three bags of gummy worms during trial prep and then tried to convince us it was a ‘tactical’ decision?”

“They were sour gummy worms,” Jungkook shot back defensively. “Completely different vibe.”

“Sure but you’re usually unbearable before a trial.” Taehyung raised a brow. “Pacing around, running through every tiny detail like your life depends on it. Hell, last time you made me and Namjoon sit through your entire case just to ‘practice.’ You even roped Melanie into being the jury. Still can’t believe she ruled against me.”

“She has great judgment,” Jungkook quipped, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Taehyung rolled his eyes. “Sure, sure. But here’s the thing: this time? No pacing, no rambling, no pestering me to play the opposing counsel. Just radio silence. It’s weird.”

Jungkook shrugged, his shoulders stiff with tension. “Maybe I’ve gotten better at managing my stress.”

Taehyung snorted. “Yeah, right.” He turned in his seat to face Jungkook fully, his expression sharpening. “When Jimin said something, I started piecing it together. Thinking on the last few weeks. I thought maybe it was family related but, you hadn’t mentioned anything recently. So then I thought, who’s the only person who throws you off your game? Y/N.”

Jungkook’s stomach dropped, but he kept his face neutral. Barely.

“I also thought it might have just been the forced proximity. You two always go nuclear when you spend too much time in the same 500 yards. Except I remembered how weird you two were acting at the wedding, and how you guys disappeared for a while during the rehearsal dinner.” Taehyung continued, his voice dropping just enough to feel like a warning shot. “You think I didn’t notice?” He tilted his head, his gaze cutting. “So, one more time—what’s going on with you and Y/N?”

A silence hung between them in quiet confirmation. Jungkook's face was hot and he was flustered, but also… filled with relief? Like a weight was lifted? Jungkook hadn’t told anyone what had been going on with you two but Taehyung figuring it out made it suddenly so easy. It had all gotten him so wound up and freaked out that he hadn’t realized how much he really wanted to talk. Talk it through, you certainly weren’t going to want to discuss it.

Taehyung’s face morphed into a relaxed and understanding grin, clearly reveling in his own detective work. “Hey, listen. If you’re not ready to talk about it… whatever! I think it’s great. Whatever it is, friendship, relationship, sex. You’re both adults. Have fun.”

Jungkook let out a breathless laugh, adjusting in his seat. “I don’t even know what’s going on. Definitely not a relationship, I’ll tell you that much.” His lips curled into a shy smile, but his voice carried an edge of uncertainty.

Taehyung nodded knowingly, leaning back in his chair. “Well, start by telling me how this all started.”

Jungkook hesitated for a moment, organizing his thoughts. “What’s weird is that, thinking about it now, it feels… insane. We fought at the rehearsal dinner. Like, properly fought. Then we went outside to cool off, and I don’t know—something shifted. We started talking about how we’re terrible at communicating. Like, talking has never worked for us.” He paused, running a hand through his hair. “So, I said maybe we should try something else. Something physical.”

Taehyung’s eyebrows shot up. “You suggested that?”

“Yeah. Why is that surprising?”

“Because Y/N would never suggest that, and you’re usually too uptight to even think about it.” Taehyung took a long, deliberate sip of his drink, clearly enjoying the moment. “So you guys…?” He trailed off, leaving the question hanging even though it was painfully obvious.

Jungkook sighed and gave a reluctant nod.

“Oh my god,” Taehyung said, leaning forward with wide eyes and a grin. “I knew you two had chemistry.”

Jungkook frowned. “No, you didn’t.”

“Did too! The first time I met Y/N, it was so obvious. Sure, she was silently plotting your demise, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t heat. You can have tension and attraction, you know.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at his lips despite himself. “You’re delusional.”

“So,” Taehyung pressed, clearly not planning to drop the subject anytime soon, “How does Emo Night fit into this?”

Jungkook leaned back, exhaling slowly. “Honestly… it’s kind of a blur. We were fighting, then we weren’t. Then we were laughing, and the next thing I knew, we were going back to my place.”

Taehyung let out a low whistle, giving Jungkook a congratulatory pat on the shoulder. “Wow. Good for you. It was only a matter of time.”

Jungkook blinked at him, confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Taehyung shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I mean, come on. You’re both hot. You’re both single. Nothing wrong with playing around and seeing what happens.”

Jungkook hesitated, his expression shifting. “I don’t think it’ll happen again.”

“Why not?” Taehyung asked, his tone light but his gaze probing.

Jungkook shifted uncomfortably, his hands fidgeting in his lap. “I don’t know. Every time it’s happened, I’ve felt this… weird sense of guilt afterward. Like I’m doing something I shouldn’t. It’s hard to explain, but it’s like I’m not even living in my own skin.” He hesitated, then added, “I’m not the type to just hook up, you know that. I don’t have the time or the mindset for it.”

Taehyung tilted his head, studying him thoughtfully. His voice was softer this time, almost careful. “Do you feel guilty because you think you’re not supposed to? Or is it because it actually feels good, but since it’s with Y/N, you’re telling yourself it shouldn’t be happening?”

The question caught Jungkook off guard. He blinked, his brow furrowing as he thought about it. “I… don’t know.”

Taehyung chewed on his lip for a moment, his expression pensive. “If I’m not overstepping,” he said cautiously, “I think you are enjoying yourself. And sure, I know you only like to sleep with people if you’re considering a relationship—”

“That’s the thing,” Jungkook cut in, his tone sharper than he’d intended. “I’m not looking for anything right now. Let alone with Y/N.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Taehyung held up a hand, his voice calm but insistent. “I’m saying maybe… let the chips fall where they may.”

Jungkook frowned, his confusion evident. “What do you mean?”

Taehyung leaned back in his seat, his fingers drumming lightly against the tabletop as he chose his words. “You’ve had so much going on in the last year. Maybe this—whatever it is—is happening at the perfect time. It doesn’t have to mean anything. It doesn’t have to be forever. But maybe it’s exactly what you need right now.”

Jungkook snorted, shaking his head. “I’m not like you. I can’t just sleep around. Plus, work takes up all my time.”

Taehyung laughed lightly, a teasing lilt in his voice. “Oh, I’m not saying with just anyone or all the time. I’m saying just whenever it comes about naturally… with Y/N.”

“No way.”

“Yes way,” Taehyung said, grinning now. “Funny enough, I think Y/N is perfect for this. She’s not going to get attached to you, and you already know you have chemistry. It’s like the universe handed you the ideal situation on a silver platter.”

“No,” Jungkook said firmly, shaking his head again. “It’s too complicated with Y/N. It shouldn’t happen again.”

“Why not?” Taehyung pressed, his teasing grin fading into something more thoughtful. His voice softened, but the curiosity behind it remained sharp. “Have you even talked to her about it? Like, actually talked?”

Jungkook let out a dry laugh, the sound short and humorless, as he rubbed his chin. “Sort of. Not really. We talked about the wedding for about five seconds, and then we fought about… well, the last time.”

Taehyung snorted, propping his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward. “Wow, groundbreaking. Gossip of the century. You and Y/N fighting? Stop the presses, I’m shocked.” His voice was thick with sarcasm, and the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth made Jungkook glare.

“You act like conversations come easy for us,” Jungkook shot back, his tone defensive.

Taehyung tilted his head, his expression shifting to something softer—almost amused. “You know,” he began, his voice thoughtful, “I’ve gotten to know Y/N pretty well over the years. She’s not as stubborn as you make her out to be. If anything, she’s way softer than she lets on.”

Jungkook looked at him sharply, his brow furrowing. “Okay?”

“It means,” Taehyung said patiently, “you should at least try. Y/N is actually pretty reasonable once you sit down and actually talk to her.”

“Talking to her isn’t as simple as you’re making it sound,” Jungkook muttered, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie.

Taehyung raised an eyebrow. “You talk to people you don’t even like all the time at work. How is this any different?”

“Where do you think I got all that practice?” Jungkook retorted dryly.

Taehyung let out a bark of laughter, his head tilting back briefly before he fixed Jungkook with a pointed look. “Fine. You’re going to Namjoon’s tomorrow, right?”

“Of course.” Jungkook said, crossing his arms like the question was ridiculous.

“Perfect,” Taehyung said, clapping his hands together. “There’s your opportunity. Just try to have a normal conversation with her. Just… be casual. You can do that, can’t you?”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow. “Do you even know me?”

Taehyung ignored the jab, waving a dismissive hand. “I’m serious. You don’t have to solve the world’s problems tomorrow. Just talk. And for the love of all that’s holy, keep your clothes on. Since that seems to be difficult for you two now.”

“Alright I’ll try.” Finishing off his drink, Jungkook stood. “I should go now. I need to get some more work done tonight.” Jungkook started to leave when Taehyung called after him.

“Hey!” Taehyung called after him as Jungkook made his way to the door. “Just think about it, alright? You might even realize I’m right. It happens more often than you’d think!”

Jungkook just waved to him as he left. He was going to make his way up to his car but he paused. Pulling out a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. Taking one and lighting it. He hadn’t been smoking as often lately, but he felt he deserved one after the success of the week. Jungkook took a long drag letting the smoke fill his lungs before blowing it out through his nose. A small buzz washed through him, cigarettes didn’t really have the same hit these days but couldn't quite kick the habit.

He knew the smell would stick to him, would linger and cling to these clothes. He started to walk up the street to his car. Just finishing off the cigarette slowly and making sure he was more than safe to drive. Thinking about what Taehyung told him, he hadn’t thought he had been so stressed. Hooking up with you continuously was just a recipe for disaster, it had to be. He was just asking for something to go wrong and you two were always on thin ice as it was. Not that Jungkook would ever bring up any of Taehyungs advice to you… again.

Last time was the last time, a very specific set of circumstances had to come together for the last two times to even work out.

All though Jungkook had become the furthest thing from your mind this evening. You were entering the hospital at the ungodly hour of 10:30pm because you decided yeah I can totally switch shifts this weekend! I haven’t done a night shift in a while so this will be fine! You are majorly regretting it now. You had slept most of the day but you were still somehow exhausted.

“Good morning beautiful.” Vic greeted you as you trudged your way to sit next to her at the nurses station. You shot her a glare sitting down in your chair pulling out one of the tablets.

“I hate the night shift. Why did I agree to this?” You groan, typing your password multiple times and failing.

“Because you are lovely and wonderful and Maya really needed the switch.” Vic stood up and behind you and rubbed your shoulders. “You can do this, it’s pretty simple at night anyways.”

“Ugh please don’t jinx me. You’ll say that and suddenly everything’s gonna go wrong.” You lay your head back looking up at her with a small pout.

“You’ll be just fine, plus Yoongi is here all night with you. He’s fun to torture during the night shift.” Vic patted you before she grabbed her bag and rounded her way to the elevators.

“Have a good night.” You call out to her but then dive your head into your work. Since it was so easy going you knew this would be a good opportunity to finish up paperwork. There was always plenty to catch up on, you could maybe even get a medication inventory count done tonight as long as everything goes smoothly.

You spend the next little while just working. Yoongi came and joined you after a while and you both just made small conversation here and there. The two of you had actually gotten closer in the time you’ve been up here. He’s actually super nice and much funnier than anyone gives him credit for. The quiet exterior thing was mostly a professional front but when he’s around you and Vic he loosens way up.

Once one of the other night nurses, Kay, had arrived you stole him away to help you with meds.

“Okay would you rather broadcast your thoughts to everyone around you at all times or never be able to think in words again?” You ask as you write down some notes about things that need to be ordered.

Yoongi thought for a moment as he is opening up a box to inspect the contents, “Can I think in pictures?”

“Hmm I’ll say yes but you can’t imagine pictures of words.” You tap your pen against your mouth.

“I’ll never think in words again. I don’t need everyone knowing my thoughts.” Yoongi says and you nod. “What about you?”

“You know what, I agree. I don’t need everyone knowing how often I think about quitting.” You snort under your breath. Yoongi smiles amused.

“We all know, you don’t need your thoughts broadcasted for that.” Yoongi teased and you push his shoulder.

“I’m quitting right now.”

“Right.”

You sigh looking around. “Well we’ve barley made a dent. I’m going to going do a loop and check in, will you see if Kay needs anything?” You hand him the notepad you had been making notes on.

“No problem, and we can totally finish this tonight. Plus we have like 10 more hours.” Yoongi points around the room. It’s true you guys just needed to stay focussed.

“Nah you have better things to worry about tonight. I’ll just force Wendy to help me when she gets in.” You wave your hand back and forth, leaving the closet.

You make your way up and down the wing. Most patients were asleep and you would slip in just to make sure there was nothing you guys were missing or not being alerted about. You had pretty good systems and alarms to make sure that didn’t happen but you always liked to check just to make sure. Everyone seemed in good shape for the night, you decided to ends your rounds with checking in on Ji-eun. You poked your head into the room to find she was in fact awake. She was looking at something on her Ipad. The light dimmed.

“What are you—” You step into the room, Ji-eun's attention pulled to you. At that moment your attention is immediately pulled to the couch that came into view. Someone was asleep there with blanket pulled over them and they were facing away. You drop your voice to a whisper. “Oh my god I’m so sorry. I didn’t know someone was here with you.”

You try to backing out of the room, but Ji-eun waves for you to come back. Her voice also a whisper, “No no no come back in. I’m happy to see you, you’re never here this late.”

A sigh of exhaustion leaves you, “Yeah one of the girls needed to switch shifts due to an emergency. So here I am.”

“That’s nice of you. I can’t imagine overnight shifts are at all easy.” She gives you a sympathetic smile, setting her iPad to the side.

“It’s alright. Dr. Min and Kay are good company.” Your attention is pulled back to the figure on the couch that shifts slightly. Maybe it was Ji-eun’s husband? You hadn’t had a chance to meet any of her family yet. They were never here when you usually worked. “Is that your husband?”

Ji-eun looks over and then back to you with a shake of her head. “Oh no, this is one of my boys.”

“Oh! How sweet he’s here with you.” You glance over and then back to her.

“Yeah he must have arrived just barely before you. He’s had a long week and hadn’t been able to stop by. Then he fell asleep.”

“Is this his first time coming to see you? Since you got here?” You found your curiosity peaked.

“Oh no no. He was with me the day I checked in and then he’s been here several times since. Always late like this.” She glances over then back to you. “I hope it’s okay he’s here.”

Technically you really shouldn’t let family stay over night but it wasn’t a rule. More frowned upon due to some incidents in the past. “Usually we try not to allow it, but I’ll let it go for now.” You give her mischievous grin, and she laughs to herself.

Ji-eun had an operation schedule for two weeks from now for the tumor in her leg to be removed. She was in high spirits about it. Removing that tumor would officially bring her back down to stage 3. The hope was that they could remove the whole thing.

Dr. Kim took a new biopsy earlier in the week and you learned this tumor was completely unrelated to the liver cancer, which was the original belief. Since the tumor had gotten down almost to the bone she would be off her feet for some time. She also will have to stop chemotherapy for a while until she heals from this operation. So mostly good things but concerning in terms of her cancer and how aggressive her case has been.

The current treatment hasn’t shown any signs of improvements to the tumors on her liver. It was still early so it was inconclusive. You could tell from the way Dr. Kim and Yoongi had been speaking about it that they were hoping for more improvement. Ji-eun hadn’t lost her spirit though. She was still so cheerful everyday you saw her and always had a story or smile to give. She’s made the weeks up here easier. In the time you’ve spent up here you have seen a few patients pass. Two just this week. You didn’t know them well but it was still tough. Especially because they were cases that had much better odds than most. Needless to say it weighed on you, so talking to Ji-eun made it easier.

Vic and Yoongi had also done a good job at showing you how they handle it. In other specialties you don’t spend as much with the patients, little easier to become impersonal. Up here you have people who are here for weeks or months so you learn about them. Which makes it worse if they don’t pull through.

“Why are you up so late?” You sit on the end of her bed, “You just had treatment on Tuesday, you need rest.”

“Just a touch of nausea it’ll pass.” She pats her stomach.

“Are you finally admitting to feeling it a little?” You say, talking about the chemo. Ji-eun had been doing well on this one and not shown any major symptoms yet. At least, that is what she was telling everyone.

“A little.” She huffed, “Nothing serious. It’ll pass soon.”

“I can get you something if you need. You don’t have to just tough it out, even though I know you try too.” You lean on one of your hands, your face falling into slight concern.

“I'm tougher than you think. No chemo can get me down. Now you go. I’m sure you have plenty of work that needs to be done.” She tried to wave you out of the room, but you roll your eyes.

“I’ve got a minute.” You glance over to her ever updating pile of crochet projects. “What are you working on right now?”

Ji-eun glances to her pile. “I know it’s a big cliché, but I’m working on a few things for you and Victoria, and the docs.” She pull over some of her stuff, “It’s just scarves.”

She pulls out one that looks to already be complete that is green and blue and red stripes. Another that is all red.

“The stripped one is for Dr. Kim. The red is for Victoria. Felt fitting since she is so fiery, and Dr. Kim is so flamboyant.” She held them out to you, they were very well done. She picked a very oft thread for them as well so they were nice to touch.

“Oh these are lovely.” You fold them and lay them back down on the bed. “Dr. Kim will love his, I assure you.”

“And this,” She reaches down on the side of the bed, “will be yours eventually.” She pull out a dark blue scarf that had stars being stitched throughout. It was still a work in progress, maybe about half way done? It was truly lovely so far. “I think it looks pretty good!”

You give her a happy pout looking at it, “I love it. It’s so cute. I can’t wait to wear it.”

“Well I better hurry up and get it done!” Her voice was a little louder than she intended, and whichever of Ji-eun's sons was on the couch stirred. “Whoops too loud. Can I get your opinion for Yoongi? I want to make him one but I’m not sure.”

You thought for a moment if you should tell her to give him something outrageously bright just to see him feel forced to wear it. You decided against it though. “Probably something neutral. He’s not the flashy type. Maybe a black or grey.”

“Awe I was hoping maybe he had a colorful streak hidden under that quiet exterior.” Her face twisted in annoyance, “Neutral it is.”

You get yourself off the bed. It was time that you got back and continued your work. It was a nice little break but there was a lot left to be done tonight.

“I must leave you now. If you need anything you know where we are.” You take a step towards the door.

“I’ll try.” Ji-eun huffs with fake annoyance in her tone like you were a mom scolding her.

You roll your eyes knowing she’s just going to continue to be tough about it. You turn to the door before something catches your attention before stepping out. It was subtle and you hadn’t noticed it before but you definitely smelt it now.

Just a faint smell of cigarette.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・

After a long and grueling night. Your shift was coming to an end. You and Yoongi, with the help of Wendy another night nurse, you managed to get a good jump on inventory. The rest of the night you mostly just did paperwork and bothered Yoongi when you could. No major issues except you were not really built for a night shift. About an hour ago you took advantage and stowed yourself away to get a tiny bit of rest in an on call room. With your slumber abruptly interrupted.

“Rise and shine baby girl!” Vic hit her leg on the side of the bunk you were sleeping in. Rattling it and you awake.

With an angry grunt you rolled over to look at her. “You’re so obnoxious.”

“I’m here to relieve you. Get up.” She holds a hand out to you to help you get to your feet. “How was last night?”

“Not bad.” You yawn and stretch your arms straight into the air. You fill her in on some other details and you both leave the on call room and walk back to the nurses station. Giving her some updates on what you and Kay did in the night.

You collected some of your stuff from the desk when you overheard some of the other girls you worked with talking.

“Okay but like you saw him.” Lana, a new hire here, leaning on both of her hands swiveling from side to side in her chair. Dramatically star struck.

“You were right, hot.” Angel, another girl who usually works opposite shifts of you. So you haven’t gotten to know her much.

“Ladies,” Vic interrupted arms folded, “I think we have better things we could be doing?”

“Yeah but Lana’s crush was here. So she’s all distracted now.” Angel rolled her eyes, nudging Lana to come out of her dream state. You laugh under your breath.

“Who’s her crush?” You breath, balancing your stuff in your arms. Looking between the two of them.

Lana groaned, “I don’t actually know his name. I’m just pretty sure he’s Ji-euns son. You had to have seen him Y/N, you’re on her case.” She looked to you, her pupils practically turning into little hearts.

“I actually haven’t met any of Ji-eun’s family. I’ll see what I can find out.” You yawn thinking back on it. Sad Ji-eun’s been excited to introduce you to her family and you just barely missed him. Maybe next time.

“Get his name as soon as possible please. So Lana can bug you about it instead of me.” Angel got up from the desk, walking away as quickly as she could. You and Vic watch her go in her annoyance and you both have amused smiles.

“I’m sure you could just ask. Ji-eun uses any opportunity to talk about her family.” You pat Lana on the shoulder, “Hope he’s everything you hope he is.”

“Me too.” Lana gets up as well taking a tablet with her in a day dreamy walk.

“Don’t encourage her. She’s new so she doesn’t need to get her hopes high. ”Vic nudged you. She was mostly teasing.

“Hey, we need some new entertainment around here other than Yoongi. I’m just sad her crush isn’t on him so we don’t get to tease him about it.” You laugh, just then Seokjin and Yoongi were rounding the corner.

“Good morning my wonderful staff.” Seokjin beamed between you and Vic. Vic narrowing her eyes at Seokjin already. Oh he’s in for a long day.

“You didn’t sign your charts last night.” She taps her finger impatiently. Yoongi trying to hide. “Yoongi this goes for you two, and you have no excuse you were here all night.”

You place a hand on her, “To be fair he really helped us out with the medicine and inventory count.”

She huffs, “Okay fine you’re off the hook. You sir,” pointing back to Seokjin. “You’re gonna sit and do it before you do anything else today.”

“What’s with the hostility? To think I bought treats for you today and this is the thanks I get?” Seokjin sniffs and fake wipes his eyes.

“I’ll be less hostile when you sign your charts.” She barks.

You decide you need to slip out now before the blood bath begins. You made your way home in record time. You were desperate to sleep in your own bed because you were finally going to see Melanie tonight. You were so excited that her and Namjoon were back, and tonight would be all in good fun. Or at least you hoped it would.

Jungkook's annoying presence would certainly be something to handle… considering.

You couldn’t even think straight as you crashed on your bed. You didn’t even bother to change, just letting the weight of the night overtake you. It felt like a blink of an eye though as it was suddenly 6 pm. You needed to get up and get ready for sure now. You had roughly about an hour before you needed to be getting out the door. So you shower the night off and dress casually, you had a feeling you may be crashing there tonight so you didn’t need to look amazing.

You certainly didn’t feel too amazing, exhausted really.

After too long you were arriving and knocking on the front door. Namjoon and Melanie had a very nice townhome, it wasn’t decorated in a typical fashion. It was always very warm and welcoming and homey. You tended to hang out here a lot because of how good of a job they did at making it so nice. Unfortunately that did involve many night where you, Ash, and Melanie overtake the house and Namjoon is left sleeping in the guest room or downstairs. He really didn’t mind but you always felt a little bad.

With a swift swing open of the door Melanie was who you came face to face with. “Finally! My knight in shining armor has arrived!” Melanie swooned against the door frame.

“My darling I’ve return from war!” You step inside and are immediately enveloped into a hug. It was so nice to finally have her back. You didn’t want to bug her with anything while her and Namjoon were away but now it was free game. “I need to hear every detail about your trip.”

“Oh trust me I’ve got a whole presentation prepared.” She keeps an arm around you as you enter the house.

The entryway was a long hallway with tall ceilings, stairs lined one wall, with entrance to the living room first and then just up the hall entrance to the kitchen. A small bathroom tucked under the stairs.

“Oh I can’t wait.” You giggle and rub your hands together, “I need something to eat though I’m starving.”

“Oh there’s plenty of food so help yourself. We’ve got all night.” She pulled you into the living room where you were greeted with Ash and Namjoon in a heated debate about what looked like a just finished match of Mario kart. Taehyung was sprawled out on the couch, looking like a kicked puppy. Melanie sat down on the opposite love seat leaving you standing,

You squat down to Taehyung's eye level, “What was it this time? Eleventh or twelve?”

He fakes sobs, “If there was a thirteenth place they would make it for me.” You snort and ruffle his hair.

“You’ll get him next time.” You sit down on the love seat with Melanie laying your legs across her lap.

“You don’t want to sit with me?” Taehyung sat up on the couch with a puppy dog look in his eye.

“I need some Melanie time tonight. I’ll give you my attention another time.” You say but Taehyung still played sad.

“Mel! Back me up! He so cheated!” Ash erupted between the three of you, pointing to Namjoon accusingly.

“I did not!” Namjoon quipped back, “She’s the one who was trying to shove me the entire time!”

“I’m not getting in the middle of you two and your stupid Mario kart rivalry again! I made that mistake once and I almost got my head bitten off for it.” Melanie grumbled in annoyance at the two of them. They both deflated but still were annoyed.

“You know how competitive they get, why let them play?” You ask, raising an eyebrow to Taehyung and Melanie.

“I left the room for five seconds and suddenly they were deep into it by then.” Melanie raised her hands in innocence. You believed it, Ash and Namjoon had a years long running tally of Mario kart wins. They always stayed neck and neck and it was very serious for them. You were okay at it, always coming out somewhere in the middle.

“Well I need a drink if this is how the night is going to continue.” You get back up from your seat.

“There’s tons of wine please drink it.” Namjoon called after you, you gave a thumbs up behind you in response. Heading down to the kitchen.

Rounding your way into the in there really was tons of snacks and food at the ready on the island counter. You imagine Melanie had meant to bring it into the living room but got sucked into the game with the others.

You pick a random bottle, opening it and pouring yourself a glass. It was pretty good for a random pick. You balance your glass, the bottle, and a armful of snacks bringing them with you to the living room to lay them out on the coffee table.

“Oh thank you.” Melanie beamed, taking a bag of chips from you.

“I figured they got left behind in the gaming escapades. This wine is also nice.” You take another sip from your glass, setting the bottle down.

Melanie takes the bottle holding it up to Namjoon, he also looks at it, “Joonie, where did we get this one?”

“Jungkook got it as a gift.” Namjoon nodded when seeing the bottle.

Taehyung dramatically held onto the nearest object. You gave him a funny look.

“Sorry Jungkook's name was mentioned in your presence. Thought I should prepare for a disaster.” He teased, you hit him on the shoulder.

“I’m not that dramatic.” You settle down on the couch next to him. “Here I’ll give him a compliment right now. He can pick out a nice wine. Let’s hope it’s not poison.”

“Wow,” Taehyung deadpanned, clutching his chest. “Don’t strain yourself.”

“Anyways, what’s going on with you these days.” You look at Taehyung. “I haven’t seen you since the wedding.”

“I tried to catch up with you at emo night but seems you got stolen away.” Taehyung says and it makes you take a slight moment of pause. Taehyung said it that way on purpose. Knowing what he knows, “You know cause you went home early.”

You nod, playing it cool. “Yeah I had too much. It was good I called it early because it could have gotten messy.”

“Probably smart, a little too much to drink can make us do some questionable things.” Taehyung says it almost with some suggestion, like trying to point to a certain subject. It didn’t slip by you, it felt too intentional.

“Yeah, I guess?” You play it off, “Anyways, any new girl I can hear about as of late? Any crazy stories you got for me?”

Taehyung shakes his head, “I’ve taken a little break lately. Trying to be serious.”

“Really? You?” You cock an eyebrow.

“Nah,” He smirks, “What about you? Anyone wrapped around your finger at the moment?”

You narrow your eyes at him, Taehyung had a way of trying to subtly gets answers. Him asking about your love life never comes without a catch. Last time it was a blind date he wanted to set you up on. “No. I’m not really looking right now.”

He slowly nods his head, his stare a bit too intense for comfort. “Very interesting.”

“Okay what are you planning? If you're planning on giving my number out to someone can I at least know who and why?” You groan, leaning your head on the back of the couch looking up to the ceiling.

“No I wouldn't do that to you… again. I’m just confirming a solution to a problem I’m working on.”

You wanted to probe further into what Taehyung was talking about, but decided to just leave it. Whatever he had cooking up in his mind could not be good. Better to not indulge him.

The night buzzed with the hum of wine-fueled laughter, the clink of glasses, and a playlist that had long since fallen victim to the chaos of too many requests. You were tipsy, just enough to feel bold and carefree, your giggles blending seamlessly with the chatter around you.

Ash, Melanie, and you had claimed the big couch as your domain, limbs tangled in a haphazard heap. Your head rested in Ash’s lap, where she was absently braiding and unbraiding sections of your hair, likely creating a disaster you'd deal with tomorrow. Namjoon and Taehyung had been exiled to the love seat and the floor, making them easy targets for your drunken commentary.

This was how these nights always went—wine, games, and an inevitable retreat to Namjoon and Melanie’s room, where the three of you would indulge in a late-night slumber party like teenagers.

Just then a ring from the doorbell sounded through the house. Announcing the arrival of the demon spawn. Namjoon sprung up from his spot and trotted to the door. You could hear a few voices echo in the hall before Namjoon and Jungkook reentered the room with some laughs.

“Golden boy finally arrived.” Taehyung held his arms up in celebration. The wine in his glass almost flinging everywhere.

You rolled your eyes so hard you were sure they’d get stuck. Melanie wiggled her way out from under your legs to give Jungkook a hug, which he returned with genuine warmth. You looked away, muttering under your breath, “Great, now we’re all blessed by his presence.”

Melanie beamed, entirely ignoring your sarcasm. “Okay, now that everyone’s here, we can finally show pictures from the trip!” She dashed out of the room and returned moments later with her laptop, bounding around everyone and hooking it up to the TV.

“Oh you actually had a presentation prepared?” You laugh at her and Melanie rolls her eyes.

“Yes,” Melanie retorted, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “You’ll like it. Now, everyone, sit.”

Melanie urges Namjoon and Jungkook to sit back down. Namjoon took the available spot next to Taehyung, which left the spot your legs currently occupied the only place left.

The command turned the room into a musical chairs scramble. Namjoon reclaimed his spot by Taehyung, leaving the couch seat you were sprawled across as the only one open.

Jungkook eyed the seat with a smirk and crossed his arms. “Guess you’ll have to move.”

Without budging an inch, you waved dismissively at the floor. “There’s plenty of space down there.”

Jungkook, tilted his head, tongue in cheek. He should have expected the immediate annoyance he would get from you being here. Taehyung watched from the other couch with bated breath, sipping on his wine.

“Oh this looks like such a comfortable spot though.” Without warning Jungkook places his butt right on top of your legs. Sighing joyfully, it was not comfortable but the face you were making was worth it.

Ash immediately burst out laughing, her hands still tangled in your hair. “I mean, he’s not wrong. You’re pretty cozy.”

“Get off.” You groan, tugging your legs out from under him and sitting up straight.

Jungkook stretched out leisurely, claiming the newly vacated spot with a satisfied smirk. "Ah, much better."

You narrowed your eyes at him, resisting the urge to shove him off the couch entirely. Taehyung, still observing from his perch with an amused glint in his eye, raised his glass in toast. "And just like that, our main event is underway."

"You're enjoying this way too much," you snapped at Taehyung, who simply shrugged and sipped his wine.

Melanie clapped her hands, reclaiming everyone's attention. "Alright, children, settle down. You're distracting from my masterpiece here." She gestured to the TV, where the first picture from their trip was already displayed: a stunning view of a mountain range bathed in golden light.

The room collectively oohed and aahed, and Melanie launched into a detailed explanation of the hike they had to endure to get the shot. Namjoon chimed in with a few quips about Melanie nearly slipping on a rock, which earned him a playful swat on the arm.

Ash, kept you grounded in your spot so you didn’t push Jungkook away. He didn’t try to antagonize you again. He stayed settled to his spot and his attention on Melanie. Staying engaged with everyone except you. You got another drink into you during the presentation and so did Ash. both of your giggling every now and then on your side of the couch. Entertaining yourselves thoroughly.

Jungkook just stayed as far on his side as he could. Didn’t mean something else was happening. Because Taehyung was texting him.

Tae: So are you going to talk to y/n tonight??????

Tae: I think you should ;)

Tae: Remember just keep it casual!!!

Tae: Could lead to… well you know… again ;)

Tae: I’ll even break the ice

Tae: ;)

Tae: Should be an interesting evening

Jungkook would look every once in a while and not dignify Taehyung with a response. Jungkook could feel Taehyung’s eyes also boring into the side of his head in anticipation. He was looking for that spark, maybe there was something much more going on here.

After a little while, the wine was really getting to you. As well as your messed up sleep schedule making you fuzzy. Warm. You were watching Melanie talking about some trail her and Namjoon followed and got lost along as your attention was caught to Jungkook moving his hand to run through his hair. Settling it back down into his lap. It caught your attention for a moment and it felt like it moved in slow motion. Then without even realizing you were staring at his hands in his lap.

He was fidgeting with his fingers. Probably mindlessly playing with them. Your mind began to drift though, because you know those hands now. You know they are much softer than they initially look. They were warm and strong. His fingers are long and slender, pretty even. Pretty in an artistic way, almost. A memory of them running all over your body imprinted on your mind. Being pulled to the surface.

Almost too quickly you felt like your face was on fire. The memory coming in small flashes. A laugh to a messy drunken make out in a fluorescent bathroom. Your lips finding their way to his skin. Then being in his apartment and stripping down together. Then suddenly being laid back. First his fingers and and then his tongue painting you with pleasure. You could see his hands in your mind so clearly, then suddenly his eyes. Looking back at you, while he took you over the edge.

You need to stop. You shook your head and adjusted in your seat almost too quickly. You cannot be thinking about this right now. What is wrong with you? It had to be the wine, you always got somewhat horny when you drank wine. You settled back into your spot, playing it cool. Your eyes danced around the room for a moment. Pulling yourself back down to earth. Keep it together, you are better than this.

Your eyes glanced at Jungkook for one second. Not even trying to look but you caught him right as he was playing with his lip ring with his tongue. Forcing your eyes to look back to Melanie and the screen.

Pay attention to the presentation.

Your foggy conscience easily betrayed you though. This time, quiet and patient kisses in an elevator. Then a dark hotel room. An image of Jungkook standing above you saying please. Then him placed behind you, slipping himself inside–

You take in a sharp breath in through the nose. You begin to pick your own nails. Surely if you keep your hands busy you can keep your mind distracted. Yes you were a little tipsy and you were having flashbacks but you can fight this. Remember he’s gross, awful, and has said horrible things to you. He drives you insane.

You will not let your tipsy mind flow to... Jungkook.

You decided you needed to get some ice cold water. The pictures wrapped up, Melanie’s enthusiastic commentary dwindling to polite applause as everyone shifted back to casual conversation. You decided it was the perfect moment to escape, slipping away toward the kitchen with quick, deliberate steps. The quiet was immediate and welcome, wrapping around you like a shield.

Getting yourself a glass and getting some water from the sink. Sipping it quickly, letting the coolness slow your mind.

The reprieve didn’t last long.

You heard the floorboards creak and glanced up just in time to see Jungkook stroll into the kitchen. His presence was impossible to ignore. He didn’t look at you at first, but you felt him there, his every move trying to pull at your attention like a gravitational force.

Your grip on the glass tightened reflexively.

“Jungkook.” Your voice was flat, carefully devoid of emotion.

“Y/N.” He mimicked your tone, brushing past you to grab a glass of his own. His voice carried a teasing edge, but there was something else—something softer underneath.

The silence that followed was sharp and deliberate, the air thick with unspoken words. Jungkook could easily toss out some snarky comment to rile you up, it was practically his trademark, but he didn’t. Not this time.

Instead, he lingered, standing just close enough for the faint scent of his cologne to drift your way. Cedarwood, or something like that. It was annoyingly intoxicating.

You busied yourself with your phone, scrolling aimlessly. A quiet laugh escaped you at something you saw, but it felt too loud in the stillness, too revealing.

Clearing his throat, Jungkook finally broke the silence. “How are you?”

You blinked at your phone, unsure if you’d heard him right. Slowly, you glanced his way. “What?”

“How are you?” He rubbed the back of his neck, his movements almost shy.

“Why?”

“I’m making conversation.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s what people do, Y/N. They talk.” His tone had a touch of exasperation, but his lips curled into a faint smirk. “Just answer the question. You’re not going to combust if you do.”

You hesitated, the urge to deflect warring with the odd sincerity in his gaze. “I’m good,” you said finally, though it felt like pulling teeth. “Exhausted, but good.”

“How come?”

You narrowed your eyes, trying to read him. Was this a setup? “I worked an overnight shift last night,” you said cautiously. “So my sleep schedule is all over the place.”

“Overnight shift, huh?” Jungkook turned to lean against the counter, crossing his arms as he studied you. “And you still showed up tonight?”

“Yeah.” You shrugged, suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was. “I missed Melanie and Namjoon. We usually crash here after these things.”

“Crash?” He raised an eyebrow, the faintest hint of a grin tugging at his lips.

“Yeah.” You smiled despite yourself. “Mel, Ash, and I take over Namjoon and Melanie’s room after too much wine.”

Jungkook let out a low laugh, the sound unexpectedly warm. “That explains it. Namjoon was muttering about an invasion yesterday. Makes sense now.”

You laughed lightly, the tension between you softening for a moment. “Yeah, invasion is probably accurate. If you and Taehyung weren’t here, the living room would already be in ruins.”

Jungkook moved then, stepping toward the sink to fill his glass. The motion was smooth, casual, but you couldn’t ignore how close he came, the heat of his body brushing against yours. The scent of his cologne floating your way one more time. You took a small step to the side, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened.

He seemed to notice your shift but didn’t comment, his gaze flickering to you for a split second before returning to his glass.

You cleared your throat, your voice quieter than you intended. “How are you?”

Jungkook stilled, glancing at you with something like surprise. For a moment, he didn’t answer, his dark eyes searching your face like he was trying to decide if you meant it.

“I’m alright,” he said finally, his tone subdued. “Busy, though. I’m in the middle of a trial.”

“Right,” you said, nodding. “Lawyer stuff.”

A small, wry smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah, lawyer stuff.”

“What kind of trial?” you asked, surprising even yourself.

He hesitated, as if weighing whether to tell you. Finally, he said, “It’s a class-action case. Workers suing their company for unpaid wages. I’m representing them.”

Your eyebrows lifted, genuinely impressed. “Wow. Didn’t expect you to be on the workers’ side.”

Jungkook tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “Why not?”

“I don’t know.” You gestured vaguely. “Knee jerk reaction. I typically expect the worst from you. Most people would go for the big paycheck.”

A low chuckle escaped him, warm and deep. He couldn’t blame you for jumping to a conclusion after all these years. “Fair enough. It was the right thing to do though.” Jungkook rubs on his neck another time. You noticed it, he had done it a couple of times tonight. Almost like it was bothering him.

“What’s wrong with you?” You tighten your eyebrows together, Jungkook’s eyes meeting yours for just a moment before darting away.

“Oh,” He twists his neck trying to relieve the discomfort. “My neck is just hurting. I think I slept wrong.”

“You could take something, or there are some stretches I know that can help.” You begin to look around the kitchen seeing if you can find some ibuprofen. Your hurriedness surprised Jungkook. Threw him off balance.

“I already took something but didn’t seem to help. Still some pain.” His eyes tracked you round the kitchen as you continued your search.

“Well I’ll show you the stretches then, grab a chair.” You exhale, nodding your head to one of the chairs at the dining table.

Jung walked over and pulled one of the chairs out and took a seat. You hesitated for a moment before you stood right behind him. Your hands hovered hesitantly above his shoulders. What the hell were you doing?

“Are you okay if I just do it… t-to show you how?” You say hesitantly.

Jungkook doesn’t look back to you but finds himself rather… nervous even. Had you gotten him in the perfect position to actually just strangle you out? Were these his final moments?

“Just don’t kill me… but yeah go for it.” He nodded, not looking back to you.

“Okay. Just relax.”

Jungkook feels you place one hand on his left shoulder, making sure his posture stays back and your other hand resting on the top of his head gently pushing it forward. Jungkook could feel a small pull in his neck stretching it out. The pain was on the right side so this was too bad. Your hand on his shoulder was touching some of the skin on his neck and it felt like it was burning into him. It was quiet, just your quiet breathing filling the room.

“So you lean your head forward and then you roll your head side to side,” you murmured, guiding his head gently to the left Your voice was softer than you’d intended, the quiet of the kitchen making every word feel heavier.

Jungkook’s breathing hitched slightly, though you weren’t sure if it was from the stretch or the weight of your hand on his shoulder. His skin was warm beneath your touch, and you realized with a jolt that your fingers lingered longer than necessary.

“You should feel a pull right along here.” You hovered for a second, but drew a line along his neck where the muscle was tense. Trying to focus on the task and not the way your voice seemed to tremble.

Your touch made Jungkook want to wiggle away from you. So light but almost electric. His mind drifted away somewhat, almost remembering last week but he kept himself grounded in the present.

“Yeah,” he replied, the pull was slightly painful but felt good. “It’s… helping.” His words were simple, but something about the way he said them made your stomach flip.

You adjusted your hand, sliding it to the other side of his head to tilt it gently to the left. “And this?” You kept your eyes focused on the wall now, You had already spent too much time looking… and thinking about his hands tonight. You didn’t need to think about his neck.

Jungkook exhaled, a slow, deep sound that felt too intimate in the quiet space. “Better,” he said, his voice quieter now.

“It also helps to roll in circles slowly too. Trying to stretch those muscles as far as you can. You want to feel the pull.” You remove your hand, but keep them on his shoulders as he rolls his head around in slow circles.

The kitchen, bathed in the soft glow of the overhead light, felt suspended in time. The sounds from the living room—muted laughter, clinking glasses, the occasional burst of louder conversation—faded into the background. It was just you, Jungkook, and the lingering ghost of your touch on his skin.

Your hands had rested on his shoulders longer than they should have. Neither of you had acknowledged it, though Jungkook had noticed. He couldn’t stop noticing. The weight of your touch, light but grounding, had felt entirely different from the energy you normally exuded around him.

Gentle.

It made his pulse quicken, a response he tried desperately to suppress. But his mind betrayed him, conjuring thoughts he had no business entertaining such as your hands moving from his shoulders, sliding down his chest, fingers tracing his jawline—

He swallowed hard, forcing himself back to reality. Because that feeling was there again, that small guilty twist in his stomach. What he had been telling Taehyung about bubbled up. He still couldn’t name it, because guilt didn’t feel right. It wasn’t that but it felt so strange. What was that?

Almost like the universe had heard his struggle, Taehyung appeared in the doorway, a wide grin already plastered on his face. His eyes scanned the scene quickly, locking onto Jungkook still seated and you standing just behind him.

“Oh my god it’s finally happening. Y/N is going to strangle you out!” Taehyung gasped and threw his hands over his mouth dramatically, “Y/N please spare him! He’s a good boy!”

You laugh to yourself, stepping back from Jungkook letting your hands fall away from him. The absence of touch is almost louder than the conflict itself. “I’m not strangling him,” you said, crossing your arms and giving Taehyung a look. “This time. Now roll your shoulders back.” you instructed Jungkook, stepping even farther away as if to reestablish boundaries.

Jungkook complied without a word, rotating his shoulders as you’d shown him. He tilted his head from side to side, testing the stretch. When his gaze flicked back to you, a faint smile tugged at his lips. “You’re good at this,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost thoughtful.

“I do it for patients all the time, the hospital beds are notoriously uncomfortable.” You replied, shrugging as if it were nothing. Your arms stayed crossed, a subtle shield against the shift in energy between you. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It doesn’t feel like nothing,” he said, his words soft but lingering. His eyes stayed on you a fraction too long, enough to make your chest tighten and your cheeks warm.

Taehyung, clearly enjoying himself, stepped farther into the kitchen. His smile widened, but he kept his tone light. “What exactly were you doing?”

“I slept weird last night,” Jungkook interjected, standing up from the chair and adjusting it neatly back under the table. “My neck’s been hurting all day. Y/N was just showing me some stretches to help.”

Taehyung hummed, unconvinced. His gaze darted between you and Jungkook like he was piecing together a puzzle. “Right. Stretching. Sure.”

You decide this is your chance to escape out of here. You pick up your glass and exit the kitchen quickly to rejoin the others in the living room. The kitchen was quieter now that you’d left, though the tension you’d unintentionally abandoned seemed to cling to the air like static. Taehyung leaned against the counter, his grin infuriatingly smug as he watched Jungkook refill his glass of water, the younger man pointedly ignoring him.

“If I had shown up even a second later, you two would’ve probably stripped naked,” Taehyung said.

Jungkook groaned, turning his back on him to hide his flushed face. “We were only talking.”

Taehyung nodded sagely, his expression far too knowing. “Oh, sure. Just talking. Nothing else. Completely innocent. Two people practically pressed against each other in a dimly lit kitchen, having a totally platonic chat.”

Jungkook shot him a glare. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Of course I do,” Taehyung replied smoothly. “But it’s part of my charm. So, what was it really? A nice heart-to-heart, or were you two silently fighting like usual?”

Jungkook paused, his hand tightening briefly on his glass. “No… no, actually. It was just a conversation. Awkward, but… maybe the most normal we’ve spoken to each other in years.”

Taehyung’s grin widened as he pushed off the counter, his eyes alight with mischief. “Told you.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m always right and you know it.”

“No you’re not.”

“She was sweet, though, wasn’t she?” Taehyung continued, his voice quieter now, his teasing edge softening. “Almost shy? Kind, even?”

Jungkook hesitated, his gaze fixed on the countertop. He hated how easily Taehyung saw through him, but there was no use denying it. “...Yeah,” he admitted grudgingly, barely above a whisper.

Taehyung clapped him on the shoulder, his grin shifting into something genuine. “See? Progress. Keep trying.”

Jungkook sighed, rubbing the back of his neck where your touch still lingered faintly. “Yeah. Easier said than done.”

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