#He’s literally just looking out the door why | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cuntyji · 2 days ago

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hello my name is kashika aka cuntyji and here is my official review on user norikuna's choso fic. i have two tabs of the same fic open as i simultaneously write down my thoughts which is why it probably will be all over the place. thank you for reading.

can i first start off by saying i was genuinely so surprised when i got this notif !! i remember being asked about what tropes & fics i'd like with certain characters and i just brain dumped it all....i didn't expect pookie to turn it into a whole fic (she is so real....that's my wife right there. we are actually married and i swim everyday across the ocean/s to meet her in australia)

He’s (gojo) officially dead to you, figuratively, of course. Unfortunately. ➜ DAPH YOU’RE SO MEAN WHY WOULD YOU SAY IT LIKE THAT !! my husband……even if he is dead we fanfic writers have developed twenty other plot lines where you are happy. i would quote a lot more but im loving gojo and reader’s friendship so far. AND THE IMPLIED STSG I LITERALLY SHOT UP FROM MY SEAT AND SALUTED MY SCREEN

And yes, your type has turned out to be greasy Tim Burton reject loners who wander around school in faded Lord of the Rings hoodies. ➜ no one laugh but my current sort of crush is kind of like that minus the loner but he looks like a tim burton character and he is such a big band nerd and UGH OKAY ANYWAYS BACK TO THE FIC

Your Prada loafers click against the polished floor, before you kick them off. ➜ i’m sorry but the minute i read prada i shot up straight because for a hot minute i forgot we’re the rich baddie archetype….reading this fic locked in now

“Uh, hey,” you manage. The picture of eloquence, the master of the verbose elite. ➜ i don’t blame her if i opened the door to choso kamo himself i’d piss my pants i mean kiss him i mean UHHH/??

Never let anyone tell you that teenage love is simple, or wholesome. Full of first crushes, and sweet moments. Because this? It feels like someone ripped the floor out from under you, the air yanked from your lungs, leaving you stranded. ➜ sat here holding my head in my hands because this sentence HURTTTSSSS. HURTED. HURT MY SOUL. this whole scene from reader asking him to him saying the truth oh god my face has morphed into a perpetual sad face

choso leaving the house is making me make a face….i’m staring at the screen gaping. i’m not used to reading him like this OOOWEIIIEEE

GOJO CALLING HIM JUGHEAD JONES LMFAOOO DAPH I LOVE UR MIND they are literally the same person and i had the BIGGEST crush on him….no wonder i love choso too.

But to borrow a line from Bangtan Sonyeondan, life goes on. ➜ daph you’re making me get war flashbacks. literally got up and saluted my screen. im so sick right now. heaving and throwing up

The next few months slip by like the kind of indie film that you’d see at film festival. It’s bittersweet, and there’s a melancholy that everyone can taste in the air, especially as you all realise that this last blue spring of youth is slipping through fingers like sand. /// Spring arrives like a first kiss. It’s hesitant, not rushing in. Just tiptoes around you, tentative enough as it coaxes you out of winter’s gloom. ➜ I AM SICK. SICK YOU HEAR. IM GOING THROUGH EVERY SINGLE EMOTION RIGHT NOW BECAUSE I HATE HOW THIS IS MY LIFE RIGHT— *GUNSHOTS* the below meme is me right now

Satoru grins, all teeth and lazy confidence, “Yeah, what? You’re going to start running a pyramid scheme cult?” ➜ the canon references….i am so sat right now. daph this is why you’re leader of geto-ville.

Once, he was Choso Kamo — the quiet boy you liked in school. Then, he became Choso from the café. Soon, he'll be someone whose name you won't even remember in a few years, someone who's path you'll probably never cross again. ➜ why am i paying internet bills…..yea……..to cry……..that’s whats up

CHOSO QUOTING LEGALLY BLOND AND WE CHEERED !!!! THAT IS MY BABY OH MY GOD DAPH IM SMILING SO HAR =D ROGHT O WU HAVE NO DEA IM ACTUALLY CRYING ON MY BAYBY

sukuna mentioned and i shot up staight and clutched my chest and took in deep breathes i am feral for this man i genuinely think i have tunnel vision when it comes to him.

nevermind i read ahead and want to beat him up. when i read a fic and am forced to choose between canon inspired sukuna versus my baby choso (i jump out of the window)

Half a grape travels down Satoru’s windpipe, “The villain!” ➜ MY SAME REACTION BECAUSE WHAT THE FUCK YA ALLAH I SWEAR IF ITS YUKI IM GOING TO

THE KISS WAS SOSCUTE IM CHEESING OH TO BE LOED LIKE HOW CHOSO LOVES HER OH MY GOD IM BANGING MY HEAD AGAINST THE WALL

WHAT A FIC !!! WHAT A DAY !!! i need to write more for choso bcs the last time i did it was a psychological horror one that #FLOPPED (fragmented you will be missed....) THIS WAS SO STINKING CUTE DAPH I LOVE YOU !! THANK U FOR WRITING THIS THIS WAS SO SWEET I WENT THROUGH EVERY HUMAN EMOTION ON THE AUTISM SPECTRUM EVER !!! YOU'RE LITERALLY ONE OF THE BEST WRITERS I KNOW HOW U BALANCE TRUE HEART WARMING WRITING AND CONSTRUCTIVE WRITING UGH I LOVE U !!!

WHAT? LIKE IT'S HARD? ✶ choso kamo

abstract ✶ there are six physiological stages of having a crush. you just wish that you didn't have to learn this through first-hand experience. everyone said that choso kamo was a loser in high school, a quiet kid who haunted the campus with no friends. sure, he was brilliantly smart, but he dropped out in senior year. he even managed to break your heart, the glittering prom queen, with the world at your fingertips. imagine your surprise three years later, when you find yourself stuck with him in med school. what's worse? he's actually super hot now!

PART II. of the new years letters, a series of fics dedicated to some of my lovely mutuals! 🎁

pairing. choso kamo x afab!reader genre tags and warnings reader is practically a blair waldorf prototype (filthy rich, a bit bratty, spoiled), bestfriend!gojo, background gojo x geto, mentions of blood and injuries, med school, MISCOMMUNICATION, angst and hurt, fluff, kissing and making out. sukuna and yuuji cameos.

word count. 17.5k! song inspiration. crush culture — conan gray

a/n. shameless med student insert i rlly projected my full heart and soul into the anatomy lab ick. art belongs to all respective artists [will add credit!] crossposted on ao3 💖

dedication. for my dear kashika, first of all happy (belated) birthday @kasukuna 💗 wanted this to coincide with ur day but i'm late, i fear!!! you hype me up so much, send the sweetest asks and you're so damn talented that i'm left begging for an ounce of your creativity and amazing mind! your fics are so witty and well thought out and i like to think that you've spawned an incredible dumbass!bf sukuna renaissance on jjk tumblr 😭 idk if you remember but i sent you an ask on creamflix so long ago like the start of december asking you to choose between characters and au's so i tried lifting this as verbatim as i could from ur answer <3 hope you had the most amazing day ever!!

mp3. ✶ crush culture makes me wanna spill my gut out, i know what you're doing! tryna get me to pursue ya <3

You refuse to speak to Gojo Satoru ever again. Not today, not tomorrow, not in this lifetime nor the next. He’s officially dead to you, figuratively, of course. Unfortunately.

The moment he stops cackling like a deranged hyena in the middle of your bedroom, you’re going to shove him out the door so hard that he’s going to see stars. You’ll block his number, you’ll delete every photo of his smug grin, and you’re going to hire an exorcist to cleanse his essence from your life.

Except right now, your best friend is sprawled across your bed, practically writhing as he gasps for air in between bouts of ridiculous, chipmunk-like squeals. He’s still in his uniform, having crashed at your place after school, with his white shirt untucked, sleeves pushed to his elbows and his tie dangling uselessly around his neck.

“You are such a child,” you grumble, shoving your sticker-laden journal off your lap with a huff, just so you can aim a precise kick at his ribs. Satoru wheezes dramatically, clutching his stomach like he’s just been mortally wounded in battle.

“It’s -” he’s snickering, slapping the fine-thread sheets with the fervour of one trying to summon a higher power, “It’s just too good. I – oh my god, I really can’t breathe! I think I’m going to pass out.”

Satoru’s rolling over dramatically, dark-tinted sunglasses slipping down the bridge of his hawkish nose, leaving him to look like a cherubic bird with a bad attitude.

“If only,” you mutter darkly, arms crossed over your own blazer as you glare daggers at the white-haired boy, “It’s not that funny.”

But Satoru just doesn’t listen, of course. His grin is wide enough to split his face in half, and every breath that he takes is another affront to your polished dignity, and every stupid wheeze is a reminder that you made the colossal mistake of trusting this man with classified information.

“Keep laughing,” you say, your tone low and menacing as you snatch your phone off your nightstand, “And see what happens when I play offence.”

That gets Satoru’s attention, as he freezes mid-snort. Grin faltering just enough to make you feel a small and petty thrill of satisfaction, “You wouldn’t.”

“I would,” you say, already tapping away on your phone, scrolling past the ninety-nine notifications clogging Instagram. A certain raven-haired boy’s name hovers in your mind, one who shares the same initials as Gojo Satoru.

You’re not above sending a risky message.

Hey! Gojo’s been totally obsessed with you, ever since you bashed his head in with a spiral notebook back in seventh grade, and called him a spoilt, rich kid. He draws love hearts around your name every night. Just thought you should know, XOXO.

“Wait!” Satoru bolts upright so fast that his sunglasses fall into his lap, his grin morphing into a scowl as panic flashes in his too-blue eyes, “That’s playing dirty. Totally unfair.”

“You’re the one who laughed like a lunatic,” you say sweetly, tilting the phone towards him as if you’re about to hit send.

“You can’t be serious!” Satoru points a long, accusatory finger at you, his dramatic outrage undercut by the way his lips keep twitching, “I mean -” Another snicker escapes him as he buries his face in his hands, shoulders shaking again, “Like how? Of all people, you really have a crush on that guy.”

For a fleeting moment, you wonder if it’s too late to enrol in witness protection. It was clearly your mistake, deciding to tell Satoru critically sensitive information. Revealing the name of the boy that you were crushing on.

And yes, your type has turned out to be greasy Tim Burton reject loners who wander around school in faded Lord of the Rings hoodies.

You’re just totally head-over-heels for Choso Kamo.

“Whatever,” you snap, shoving your phone into the pocket of your school blazer with as much dignity as you can muster under the barrage of Satoru’s relentless cackles, “You wouldn’t understand?”

“Understand?” Satoru shifts himself with all the casual arrogance of someone who, unfortunately, has never been truly humbled in his life, propping himself against one of your enormous plush pillows.

The velvet squishes beneath his weight, gold embroidery bunching, but he’s utterly unbothered. “Enlighten me, we’re talking about the same Kamo right? The guy who sits behind you in class, and doesn’t so much blink in your direction? The one who looks like he’d rather gargle glass than talk to you?”

Another pillow sails across the bed before you even realise that you’ve hurled it. It strikes him square in the face, with a satisfying thwump! Muffling his laugh as he flails, tangled in thick, down stuffing.

“He’s just shy!” You insist, your voice rising as you get up to pace. Your Prada loafers click against the polished floor, before you kick them off. “And he only acts like that when others are around, by the way. He talks to me when it’s just us.”

“Oh, sure,” Satoru sits up, wrestling the pillow aside with a theatrical groan. His snowy hair sticks up at angles, like he’s been electrocuted, “That’s probably because he’s plotting his escape route while you corner him, like a lion closing in on its prey. Poor Kamo’s the gazelle.”

“Just know that I’m blowing you up in my mind.”

Satoru huffs, “So, what is your plan now? Are you going to ask him to prom? Are we going to see a proposal for the ages?”

You pause mid-pace, fighting the hot flush that creeps up your neck. It burns brighter as you glance towards the gilded vanity mirror, for that is exactly what you had wanted. You just needed to hear someone’s validation, “Should I?”

Satoru’s grin falters for a second, replaced with a look of sheer disbelief, “You’re kidding, right? That kid hates social events. You think he’s going to go with you?”

“Why not?” You’re fiddling with the crystal perfume decanters, the bottles of skincare on your vanity, “I’ve been dropping hints, okay? Subtle ones, all that manifesting shit.”

“Subtle?” Satoru snorts, “You mean letting half the football team pile bouquets into your locker? The locker that’s right next to his? Oh, yeah. Super low-key. Very humble.”

“At least I have options,” you snap back, flicking on the lights as the sun begins to sharpen its afternoon glare. Warm golden light spills across the room, catching on the ceiling-length silk drapes, “Meanwhile, I hope you end up alone at prom. Making ugly, kissy faces at Geto Suguru, while he’s with someone else.”

Satoru groans, like you’ve truly pierced his heart, “Cruel. So cruel when provoked,” but he’s propping himself back up on one elbow, “But hey, if you really do like Kamo, you know that makes him my future brother-in-law or something. That’s cool.”

Your gasp is sharp, scandalised, “Excuse me?”

“But think about it,” Satoru continues, ignoring your sputters, “You’re practically confirmed to be Prom Queen. Do you really want to drag that guy up on stage with you?”

“I think you’re being judgemental,” you mutter, tugging the drapes close and blocking out the faint twinkle of the city skyline, “He’d have to be insane not to say yes to me.”

“Someone is going to deflate that big head of yours one day,” Satoru says, and his voice has softened just enough to make you glance back at him, “You do know he cuts class a lot, right?”

“What’s your point?”

“I’m not being a bitch, I swear,” Satoru holds up his palms defensively, “He shows up for only half the month, you might want to check on your boy.”

You flop onto the chaise lounge, throwing an arm over your face tragically, “This isn’t the inspiring pep talk that I need right now.”

Satoru leans lazily against the gilded frame of your canopy bed, “Hey, it’s not my place to tell you what to do. But if you are that into him, then fine! Just ask him to prom and see what happens. And tell you what? If you ask Kamo, I’ll ask Suguru.”

You narrow your eyes, “Wow, this must be serious if you’re out here wheeling and dealing like this. Are you feeling okay?”

Satoru presses a dramatic hand to his chest, his grin morphing into something faux-solemn, “Cross my heart. I’m making a binding vow, like, it’s unbreakable. Life or death.”

“Deal,” you quickly say, ignoring the sudden leap of your pulse, because there’s no way that you’re letting him see how the sudden time-pressure is making your stomach twist into ugly knots. You point towards the door with a flourish, “And as much as I love our time together, I need to get ready. So…out! Chop-chop.”

Satoru groans like you’ve just asked him to drag a boulder uphill with his teeth, slumping off your bed in exaggerated defeat. He sluggishly reaches for his discarded backpack from the floor, slinging it over his shoulder, “I still don’t get why you bother with working. You and I both know that we don’t need it,” he mutters, as if the concept of responsibility personally offends him.

“It’s just babysitting,” you gently correct, shrugging on a cashmere cardigan from the back of your chair, “And anyway, you know I need a well-rounded list of extracurriculars for Pre-Med.”

“I’d rather eat my sunglasses, one lens at a time,” Satoru shoots back, adjusting said sunglasses squarely over his face, “Instead of being stuck babysitting brats all evening. We’re not meant to be saints.”

“It’s just one kid tonight. New family, new house,” you reply, grabbing your bag where it rests by the vanity, “Anyway, I expect a full report on your prom date by tomorrow, Satoru. I’m not forgetting that vow.”

Satoru pauses in the doorway, with the edges of his grin sharpened into something that makes you pity Geto Suguru in advance, “I never disappoint.”

You had finally managed to shove Satoru out of the doorway, his obnoxious laughter echoing faintly down the hall. The quiet that follows is a relief, albeit short-lived. You’re left standing in the stillness of your room, phone in hand, thumb hovering over the text with the address of tonight’s gig.

Honestly, Satoru might have a point. You, the only child of one of the country’s most obscenely wealthy families, babysitting? It’s not like you’re chasing pocket money or trying to build character. But medical school applications don’t only care about your bank account, there’s so many extra boxes to tick. Factors like being selfless or dedicated to the community.

The request had been odd from the start. Some child had called you himself, and normally, it’s the frazzled parents who handle that kind of task. His voice had been small, but determined, saying that his brother was out, and he needed a sitter for the evening. Something about the earnestness of it had softened you, though, now you were starting to regret the whole thing — seeing how far out this house was from your own penthouse.

Showing up in the Bentley with tinted windows and your chauffeur had felt a little off brand for this role. So, in the name of relatability, you had popped a piece of cherry gum and a book, taking on the bus. The sticky seats and questionable patrons had almost been enough to make you reconsider, but the suburb itself offered a strange charm.

It was quiet here, too quiet, the kind of place that might have once been picturesque, but it had gone soft around the edges. The homes were older, cozy but tired, with paint peeling in places and lawns that were overrun with weeds. You wrinkle your nose as you step off the bus, weaving through tufts of stubborn greenery and abandoned toys in the yard.

The house that you’re looking for stands a little crooked, but sturdy. It’s faded shutters are barely hanging on, and a basketball hoop leans precariously over the driveway. There’s a small, red toy car that’s entirely faded and scratched, sitting forgotten near the porch steps.

Just as your knuckles hover over the worn wood of the front door, it swings open with such force that you nearly stumble backwards. A blur of motion catches you off guard, and you’re suddenly face-to-face with a tiny, pink-haired whirlwind.

The boy’s grinning up at you, wide and gap-toothed, with big golden eyes. His hair is wild, a fluffy crown of rosy strands over a dark undercut, and his scraped knees are haphazardly patched up with dinosaur bandages.

“Wait here! I’m going to get my brother!” He chirps, his voice bright and slightly whistly, thanks to the missing tooth. Before you can get a word in, he’s gone, sprinting back inside with the energy of an overeager puppy, leaving you stranded on the porch.

You shuffle awkwardly, glancing down at the scratched paint on the doorframe. There was something endearing about the child, and you’re starting to feel less apprehensive. That is, until the door opens again, and time slows.

Your heart stutters, skips, and then plummets. As if someone’s dropped you into an industrial freezer. Standing there, with one hand resting lightly on the kid’s shoulder, and an expression that’s one part confusion and one part disbelief, is Choso Kamo.

It’s as if the universe has conspired against you, playing its most cruel and ridiculous joke yet. Tall and broad, with tired eyes that sweep over you in slow recognition. Dark mark twitching across his face, like a deliberate smudge of ink.

Choso’s blinking, startled to see you here, though his usual stoic expression has yet to crack. Meanwhile, your inner monologue is screaming a symphony of pure panic. You can already heal Satoru’s stupid squeals in your head.

The pink-haired boy tugs on Choso’s arm, “See, I got a babysitter! Isn’t that cool?”

Choso glances down at the kid, then back at you, his lips parting as if to speak.

“Uh, hey,” you manage. The picture of eloquence, the master of the verbose elite.

It strikes you, with almost absurd clarity, that you’ve never seen Choso outside the campus bubble. No dim library corners, no lab tables cluttered with textbooks, or heavy beat-up laptops parked in front of him. Gone are the oversized hoodies thrown over his school uniform, or the baggy jeans he dons when he forgoes the dress code entirely. Instead, he’s here, standing in the soft glow of the broken porch light, wearing a loose black tee and dark track pants.

His chestnut hair is free from the two greasy, spiky knots that he favours on his head, falling softer around his face. Your traitorous heart lurches, feeling a sharp pang of betrayal.

“You’re the babysitter?” Choso’s voice cuts through your spiral. Raspy as always, roughened like rock salt, but there’s something else threaded into the question. A flicker of irritation, and confusion. As if he’s struggling to reconcile you, with the person standing on his doorstep.

“You didn’t know when you booked?” You shoot back, aiming for casual indifference, but landing somewhere closer to petulant. Your eyes flick to the box he’s holding, with contents that glint faintly in the light. Suspiciously metallic, as if he’s cradling surgical tools.

Choso follows your curious gaze, exhaling sharply, and shifting the box to a nearby table, just out of your line of sight.

“I didn’t book,” he grunts, “Told Yuuji to check the ads, and pick one.”

“And I picked the best one!” The delighted chirp comes from behind Choso, as Yuuji reappears, practically bouncing with a sunny grin. His golden eyes are locked on the ribbon-wrapped box in your hands, and his expression is lit up with unabashed glee.

You glance down at the box, containing an array of decadent artisan doughnuts. Saffron glaze, coconut cream, pistachio and chocolate. All from that impossibly chic Swiss patisserie downtown. You ignore the dull ache building between your eyes, smiling as you hand the box over, “These are for you, little man.”

Yuuji’s already snapping his hands for the box, as though you had just delivered a treasure chest of gold doubloons, “Can I have one? Please? Pretty-please?”

Choso glances down at him with a long-suffering look that somehow manages to carry an undertone of fondness, “Just one,” he warns, his voice dry but warm, “For now.”

Yuuji doesn’t need to be told twice, bolting towards the kitchen and clutching the box to his chest like a sacred relic. The faint sound of icing being smacked off fingers echoes from somewhere around the corner.

Choso watches him go, before turning back to you, his posture easing slightly. “That was nice of you,” he says, his voice softer now, almost tentative, “But he’s going to crash hard after that sugar high. Good luck.”

You wave off his scepticism with a breezy smile, “I’m good with kids. I’ll manage.”

For a moment, the boy’s expression shifts. Something fleeting and unreadable flickers across his face, a hint of thoughtfulness or something heavier.

Another thought gnaws at the edges of your mind, a tiny spectre of dread wrapped in Gojo Satoru’s smug grin. Two hours ago, though it feels like a lifetime now, you made a pact.

You ask Kamo, I’ll ask Suguru.

At the time, it had seemed like an impossible bluff. But the thing about Satoru is that he’s infuriatingly reliable when he sets his mind to something. No matter the cost.

Which is why you’re here now, sweating under your cashmere sweater. The fabric is suddenly too soft, too warm, clinging to the nape of your neck. You, with half the school population ready to pen sonnets just for a chance to take you to prom. Jocks, debate captains, the crème de la crème of eligible dates. All overlooked in favour of the quiet boy that no-one seems to notice.

The boy whose locker was assigned right next to yours, empty and cold steel. While yours was glittered with Polaroids, and pastel sticky notes, and the occasional folded love letter. The boy that everyone said had no friends, but he was easily the uncontested valedictorian. The boy that you desperately wanted to ask to prom.

Choso is shuffling papers on the table, avoiding your gaze like it’s a laser beam. His movements are slow, and deliberate, but there’s an edge of tension in the way his fingers linger on a set of silver keys, before he slips them into his pocket.

“What?” His voice breaks the quiet, low and rough like gravel underfoot. It startles you out of your spiralling thoughts.

“Nothing,” you blurt out, far too quickly. You’re grasping at straws to keep the conversation going, “Where are you headed?”

Choso hesitates, a slight hitch in his movements, picking that cardboard box again. For a moment, you think he’s going to ignore your question, but then he mutters, “Work.”

You tilt your head, your curiosity outweighing your better judgement to never press Choso Kamo for more than two sentences in a conversation.

He shifts uncomfortable, and you catch a glimpse of latex gloves tucked neatly inside before he angles it out of view, “I…clean up things,” he says finally, his tone clipped as though every word is a concession, “Errands. I’m a cleaner.”

The kind of response that’s designed to kill conversation in its track. It’s vague, annoyingly so, but you let it slide, “Oh.”

You’re this close to spontaneously combusting. The pact, the reason that your hands shake when you catch yourself staring at Choso Kamo for just a second too long. It’s either now or never. Rip the band-aid before your central nervous system completely betrays you and implodes.

Objectively speaking, you’re a real catch. Second-best grades in the cohort, from an old business dynasty that rivalled the Youngs from Crazy Rich Asians, two-time prom queen with med-school practically knocking on the door. Yeah, a dream. College applications adored you. Surely, Choso would have had to be running on a clone’s brain stitched into his head to say no.

Yet, somehow, it doesn’t make your heart beat any less erratically. It doesn’t erase the hollow pit that’s clawing at your insides. And now, you’re wishing that you had asked for advice from someone with an ounce of finesse. Like Shoko, or Utahime. Not your best friend who called himself The Honoured One.

You clear your throat, the taste of artificial cherry gum still lingering, “So, are you going to prom?”

Choso snorts, the sound entirely dismissive. But he seems to realise that you’re not joking, flicking you a glance, like he’s deciding to humour you, “What’s it to you? Need me to vote for you to be prom queen?”

You roll your eyes, fighting the flush creeping up your Burberry sweater, “Didn’t I already ask you to do that, like, two months ago?”

His lips twitch, barely, like he’s holding a smile back under layers of indifference, “Yeah. You pestered me three times. And I actually did it.”

You latch onto the softer tone in his voice, “So, are you going to go, then?” You’re watching him, almost desperate for a sign, for anything other than no.

Choso’s shoulders tense, “Can’t.”

“Can’t?” The word slips out of your mouth before you can stop it, incredulous, “What do you mean can’t? Why? You need to study or something?” You’re trying so hard to sound indifferent, like you’ve got a roster of dates lined up. And well, you do. But this is the only one that you want. The panic creeping into your voice betrays you before you even realise it.

“No,” Choso replies, his tone quieter, “I really just can’t go.”

A weight drops in your stomach, heavy and cold. Is this what rejection feels like? The thought hits like a wave, leaving you breathless. Your heart’s flipping in your chest like it’s teetering on the edge of cliff, seconds away from freefalling into nothing.

You inhale sharply, steeling yourself for the words that are about to spill out.

“I want you to be my date for prom.” “I can’t go because I dropped out.”

The words slam into each other, and for a moment, everything freezes. Choso’s mouth has fallen open, the curve of his lips slack with shock. As though as someone’s hit the pause button on him, mid-thought. You blink at him, your brain becoming a skipping CD. Round and round, never quite catching the beat.

“What did you just say?” Your brows knit together in a sharp pinch, like your face can’t decide whether to wince or frown. But Choso just grimace, lips curling into a tight line as his shoulders stiffen.

“You first.”

Your fingers fidget around the cream Van Cleef that rests on your throat, tracing the cool edge of the pendant. It’s one of your mother’s newer gifts, the kind that comes with all the frills and none of the warmth. Her true transactional brand of maternal affection.

“I wanted to ask if you’d go to prom with me, as my date,” It spills out of you in a jumbling mess, like you’re tripping vowels and consonants over each other. Choso’s eyes widen, but you barrel on before he can interrupt, “I mean, I get it if you think it’s lame or boring, or you just don’t want to go. But I promise my friends are actually really nice, and you can sit with us.” The rest of your monologue trails off, crumbling to dust, “I just really wanted to ask you.”

You wish to sink into the floor, like the soft earth will swallow you whole. You can almost picture Satoru’s ridiculous proposal to Geto Suguru, no doubt involving fireworks or an airplane trailing a banner.

The air is so still, you can hear the faint crackling of Yuuji’s incessant doughnut quest from across the small house, his movements clumsy and unintentionally loud as he rips open cellophane for more than one sweet treat.

Choso’s shifting slightly, and there’s a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks. The pink hue is a stark contrast to his usual sickly pallor. Even his ears are a shade darker, and his jaw tightens like he’s chewing on something bitter and struggling to swallow it down. It’s hard to tell if he’s upset or just lost. Or somewhere in-between.

“You wanted to go with me?” His voice is low, hoarse, like the idea is too outlandish for him to even process. You don’t know whether to laugh or apologise.

“Mhm.” It’s all you can manage, your throat suddenly dry and tight.

“I dropped out of school two days ago,” Choso mutters, as he runs a hand through his dark hair. He’s glancing at you, with the ghost of an apology flickering across his expression, but the shock that you can’t seem to mask makes him wince, “Look, it’s not a big deal. And it’s nice that you asked, but…”

“Dropped out? Like, entirely out of school?” Your voice cracks, each word climbing higher like you’re stepping on a broken escalator, “Why? What happened?”

Never let anyone tell you that teenage love is simple, or wholesome. Full of first crushes, and sweet moments. Because this? It feels like someone ripped the floor out from under you, the air yanked from your lungs, leaving you stranded. And it’s not a pleasant feeling, being denied something that you want, for the first time in your life.

Choso shrugs, like he’s been answering this question a thousand times already. Though, you’re sure that this is the first time he’s said it to out loud to anyone, “Family stuff. Just had to.”

You try to piece this together, for this house does smell faintly of stale coffee, and the worn leather of the couch has clearly seen better days. You can tell, on some level, that something is off. That there’s no parental figure in sight for little Yuuji, just the harsh edges of whatever it is that Choso seems to carry on his own.

You can feel the words bubbling up again, stupid and reckless, “But you know you just can’t leave. You’ve got the top marks in the class, Choso. And you know that you were on a scholarship, right? For one of the most elite schools in the country? How are you ever going to get that again?”

The second they leave your mouth; you hear how self-righteous and insensitive you sound. You already regret it, almost reaching up to slap your hands over your face.

Choso’s expression darkens, his face tightens. Like a storm cloud rolling in, as his lips pull into a tight and angry line, “Back off,” he snaps, voice suddenly sharp enough to cut, “You don’t know a damn thing about my life.”

His sneer twists, not with malice, but something deeper. Harder, like he’s being chewed up by all the things he never got to say before, “Don’t worry, though. I’m sure they’ll make a big, shiny tiara for when they name you valedictorian. Maybe, it’ll match your prom dress.”

“Hey!” Your eyes well up, stupid heat of tears prickling behind your eyes, and swelling a thick lump in your throat, “That’s not what I meant.” You cannot believe that you’re tearing up, over this. Over wanting something that you can’t have, and someone who seems to have more to lose than you ever thought possible.

Choso’s lip curls into a half-sneer, but there’s a flicker of something else there. His posture shifts, as if he’s trying to fold in on himself. He lowers his voice, still low and uncomfortable, but careful. Careful, because his little brother is just down the hall.

“I don’t need your pity, okay? Or your help.” His fingers grip the metal of the net door, “I have to go now. Just look after Yuuji.”

The heavy clang of steel on mesh echoes in your ears, sharp and final. The sound lingers like a ringing in your skull as you stand there, utterly paralysed as your mind scrambles to catch up with the wreckage of what just happened. Your five-year crush crashing down in five minutes.

Your feet move, and you find yourself in the bare dining room. Yuuji’s perched at the table, with a doughnut half-eaten in his hand, a mess of pistachio cream smeared across his chin like a brave trooper. There’s an iPad, an old, scratched model, with a silicone tiger case, propped up in front of him. The screen is flashing with something, like blueberries. Bouncing in time with some peppy tune.

“Did Choso leave for work?” Yuuji asks, utterly oblivious to the emotional landmine that his brother left in your hands. His eyes are wide, curious, the innocence of a kid who still thinks the world works in neat, little boxes.

“Yeah,” you say, forcing a smile, “He works a lot, huh?”

“Oh, yeah,” Yuuji mumbles through a mouthful of pastry, sugar clinging to his lips, “He always gets upset when Uncle Kuna’ calls him in. Even after school.”

Choso has never mentioned an uncle. Or a brother, for that matter. But then again, why would he? You had never even asked for his number, never bothered to learn anything beyond what was right in front of you. You realise, with a strange pang of guilt, that you’ve built your entire image of infatuation with Choso, from incomplete sketches. Filling in the blanks with whatever fits into the tiny box you’ve kept him in.

“Hey, do you have Netflix?” Yuuji’s voice cuts through your thoughts, bright and eager. “I want to watch How to Train Your Dragon. It’s Fushiguro and Kugisaki’s favourite movie!”

The names are unfamiliar, but Yuuji’s excitement is infectious. You cannot help but smile at the boy, his messy hair and too-big shirt. It’s hard not to be fond of such a kid. You take the iPad from his sticky hands, logging into the app. All the while, chasing yourself around mentally with a baseball bat for the biggest fumble of the century.

If last night felt like a disaster, this morning was just the encore performance. And you were the unwilling star. Just the effort of peeling yourself out of bed felt like an Olympic event. And facing your reflection of swollen eyes and blotchy skin felt like punishment for sins that were way out of your paygrade.

Reluctantly, you’re tugging on your blazer, and clipping a barrette into your hair. There’s a sparkling, diamond tennis bracelet fastened around your wrist. All little things that you need to don like armour, to face your senior year, the student population and the empty locker that would remain untouched next to yours.

Satoru and Shoko are the first faces that you spot in the crowd, and Satoru’s practically bouncing down the hall, “Oh, yeah, I got it locked in,” he announces, cheeks flushed with an absurdly boyish grin, “I got it in the bag.”

He’s sliding his sunglasses down just enough to peer at you, wordlessly handing you his coffee cup, as is your morning ritual. The overly sweet, creamy warmth does nothing to ease the ache in your chest, and your lip-gloss stains the edge of the paper.

“What about you, eh?” Satoru chirps, but you must look blatantly devasted. Because your best friend’s grin falters, the corners of his mouth pulling down.

“Wait, you’re joking right?” His voice is marred with disbelief, and his eyes scan the hall like he’s trying to spot someone’s dark head of hair, “Where is he? Jughead Jones lookin’ ass? Shoko, do you know where Choso Kamo sits? Because I’m going to give him a real piece of my mind and —”

You cut him off, abruptly shoving the coffee back into his warm hands, “It’s fine. He dropped out school, anyway.”

Shoko hums beside you, her fingers absentmindedly twirling a strand of cinnamon-brown hair. The chipped polish on her nails catches the fluorescent light, “Prom queen and valedictorian in one year? Not a bad run for you.”

You glare at her, and Shoko’s doe-eyed expression softens. The breeze from the open window catches her sleek hair, making it sway gently, and she shifts. Voice dropping to something quieter, more thoughtful, “That really does suck, though. Sorry.” She sounds like she means it now, her usual flippancy up in smoke, “I didn’t even know you liked him like that. Not until Gojo told me, like, two hours ago.”

Your eyes snap to Satoru who, for once, has the good sense to shut his mouth.

Shoko’s voice is subdued, “I wonder if it had anything to do with him being called into admin.”

“Wait, when?” Satoru interrupts. He’s taking another long slurp of his sweet mocha, the froth giving him whiskers.

“Three days ago,” Shoko shrugs, “Some big guy rolled up to the office. Demanded to see the principal. No idea who he was, but he was important. And rich. Like you need to be super wealthy to call the shots in a school for the children of the top one percent.”

You must look tragic, because even Shoko pauses mid-chew. Her lollipop moving from one side of her mouth to the other. She looks at you, really looks at you. You can see the careful shift in her demeanour, as though she’s considering the most diplomatic answer that she can offer you to avoid making things worse.

“Well, you don’t have to go to prom with anyone, right?” Satoru says, the words hanging awkwardly in the air like a balloon that’s just lost its helium. His consolation is well-meaning, but a bit clueless. But now, his sunglasses are perched atop his head now, leaving his eyes exposed. Icy blue, framed by lashes so long that they practically flirt with his eyebrows. For once, there’s a flicker of real concern in them, clouds passing over clear skies.

“I know,” you gripe, your voice flat as you find yourself glaring at a group of juniors who are skipping by, with their phones out in unison, clicking away like it’s a competition. Fantastic. You can already see the gossip Instagram stories by lunch, wondering what happened to you. Rumours milling about the reason for your glum expression.

Shoko shifts her heavy bag onto her shoulder, patting your arm. “I’ll see you at lunch. My treat,” she says, turning her heel for the Chemistry building. Leaving you alone with Satoru, as Shoko quickly picks her pace up to catch her Honours class.

“So,” you start, keeping your eyes on him out of the corner of your vision, watching how his fingers twitch around the coffee cup, “How did it go with Geto Suguru?”

Satoru’s shifting, as though he’s trying not gloat, but clearly bursting to tell you, “It was nice,” which is an unusually subdued, sensitive explanation from Satoru. The one who can take five hours to tell a story that you could wrap up in ten minutes. “He was really friendly. More than I thought he would be.”

“That is nice.” You’re forcing some perk back into your voice, but it comes out rather weak, “Like, genuinely.”

Satoru crumples the empty cup in his hand, tossing it into a nearby trashcan. Then, he shoots you a sharper look, “Did you actually talk to Choso, like, in-person? How did that go?”

You exhale, “Turns out I was babysitting his little brother,” and Satoru’s eyes widen slightly, “He was fine. And then he wasn’t. I asked him to be my date, and told me he dropped out. I said something…stupid. And now he’s going to hate me forever.”

Satoru stares at you, his gaze sharp, as though he’s dissecting you. And you swear that he can see right through your skin, right into your bones. It’s moments like this that make you feel like maybe your best friend has a sixth sense, some secret radar for picking up on these things.

“Wow,” he murmurs, a touch of something in his voice, “It really got you bad, huh?”

You bristle, a mix of annoyance and embarrassment flooding your chest. You’re straightening your shoulders, but it’s all too obvious and so fucking frustrating, “Yeah, well, I don’t even know why it matters so much.” The bite in your voice is more directed at yourself, than him.

Satoru doesn’t flinch, just tilts his head, and he’s quiet. It’s a weird look on him, soft concern, “You genuinely really liked him that much?”

The truth sticks to your throat as your chest tightens, and your eyes blur. It would be nice to tell Satoru that you didn’t really care that much. That it was never fully that serious, but the lie won’t leave your lips. The lump in your throat is palpable, and all you can do is sniffle, “Yeah. I did.”

“Do you want to cry?” Satoru’s voice is gentle enough to catch you off guard.

You open your mouth to retort, something sharp and defensive. But before you know it, tears spill as your chest constricts. It’s sudden, like a storm that breaks on the horizon.

And just like that, your best friend pulls you into him. For once, the wild energy that crackles off him is gone, replaced by something quieter and more unwavering. You can feel his shoulder under your cheek, soft and warm, salt staining the expensive fabric. And if anyone does see you sob into Gojo Satoru’s arms, while the white-haired boy pats your back, no one says a word.

But to borrow a line from Bangtan Sonyeondan, life goes on. The next few months slip by like the kind of indie film that you’d see at film festival. It’s bittersweet, and there’s a melancholy that everyone can taste in the air, especially as you all realise that this last blue spring of youth is slipping through fingers like sand.

In this haze of time, you discover a few things that you didn’t expect. For instance, Geto Suguru is, in fact, far more than the tall and brooding figure that you once shrugged off. He’s the stillness to Satoru’s sharper teeth, the quiet that counters the blue eye of the storm. He’s soft-spoken, with an easy patience that tempers Satoru’s edges. He’s become a bit of a constant presence, as they always bicker and makeup in a sort of perpetual cycle.

Spring arrives like a first kiss. It’s hesitant, not rushing in. Just tiptoes around you, tentative enough as it coaxes you out of winter’s gloom. Before the flurry of sparkly gowns and speeches, there’s Utahime’s birthday to celebrate. It’s supposed to be a relaxed affair, she insists that she has no desire for fuss. But you all show up anyway, surprising her with a giant, pastel cake that takes up nearly half the table.

Her laugh is loud, and carefree, mixing with the salt of the ocean breeze on this beach trip. Her black hair whips around her face, even as she blushes at the attention. She’s protesting, but it’s swallowed by laugher, by the sound of waves breaking against the shores.

The awards and titles are all well and good, prom queen and valedictorian. A shiny, little stamp on your high school resume, a golden ticket to the next chapter of your life. But when anyone brings it up, or someone presses too hard on the subject, you shift uncomfortably, your fingers toying with the edge of your pre-med acceptance letter like it just might tear under the pressure of your grip. No-one talks about how you’ve been visiting your locker less and less.

Satoru, of course, loudly denies crying at graduation, even as salty, shiny tears tack to his cheeks. They’re practically immortalised in every digital snapshot that you take. But for now, he’s too busy wrapping everyone in a bear hug, clutching the group that it’s the last time he’ll ever see them. Nanami’s already peeling him off, shaking his head with a worn sigh.

It's late in the morning after the graduation ceremony, as you all pile into cars, driving to a riverside café. It’s one of those places where people with money go to prove that they have money, to prove that even their breakfasts are above the meals of the common folk. But you all sit there, with the graduation ribbons still pinned to your lapels. There’s the debate over who cried the most during the ceremony (Gojo, easily, though Haibara is a close second) and who’s the one who peaked in high school. Everyone unanimously votes for Geto, who sulks as he tosses his hair out of his face, ever the drama queen.

“Bullshit,” he’s grumbling, “Just you wait. You’ll see what I accomplish in ten years.”

Satoru grins, all teeth and lazy confidence, “Yeah, what? You’re going to start running a pyramid scheme cult?”

Utahime’s voice cuts through the chatter, her white ribbon flouncing as she leans towards you, blinking at the empty space in front of you, “Where’s your food?”

You wave her off with a smile, “It’s fine. You guys can go ahead and start, I’ll just go and check.”

You hear Satoru choke around a mouthful of food, already bulldozing half his way through his plate like a bottomless pit.

There’s a pretty glass display at the front, filled with delicate chiffon cakes that glisten in the soft light. You wonder if you should have just ordered one, perhaps to share with Nanami. You know he likes desserts like this.

“Can I help you?”

Your pulse stutters as you bite your tongue, heart crashing against the rocks. You soothe your tongue over the tang of iron that blooms in your mouth from the stupidly familiar voice.

Choso Kamo.

You’d like to say that he looks good, but the truth is, he doesn’t. The hollows beneath his eyes are far more accentuated than you remember, and his hair is pulled back into a messy knot at the back of his head. Even his pale skin has taken on a sicklier pallor than usual.

“Hello?” His voice cuts through the silence, sharper this time, carrying an edge that takes you by surprise.

“Oh, uh, hey. Choso. Just wanted to check on my order,” you say, like it’s a poor prelude to small talk. It sounds far too chipper, almost artificial.

Choso’s expression tightens immediately, in an ill-omen. It’s as if he’s irritated that you even have the nerve to recognise him, to stand there in his space. He doesn’t meet your gaze, his attention flicking back to the screen in front of him with a quickness that almost feels deliberate.

“Hello.” He’s muttering back, more out of obligation than any real interest. Like it’s a formality.

The sharp, hollow feeling in your chest expands, deeper than you’re willing to admit. The last time you saw him, you had been standing at his door, and he had slammed it in your face.

“What are you doing here?” Your question is clumsy, hanging in the air, and far too intrusive for a stranger.

“What?” Choso doesn’t even look up. But then he does, just briefly, his gaze flicking to yours with the same disinterest. He shrugs, as though the query is too trivial for any answer.

“It’s just…it’s been a while, yeah?” You’re not quite sure how to word and I want to know how you’ve been.

“I’m fine,” Choso replies quickly, dismissing your question with a wave of his pale hand, “Just working around here and there.”

It’s offbeat, landing wrong. You don’t think it’s unfair to think that everyone expected more of him. One of the smartest, most brilliant minds in your cohort, who had been a shoo-in for medicine, alongside you.

The bustle of patrons behind you intensifies, but you stubbornly dig your heels into the polished tile, “How’s Yuuji?”

The mention of his younger brother softens him, just a little. A small, bashful smile tugs at the corner of Choso’s pink lips, hesitant, like he doesn’t quite know how to let it show, “He’s good. Says you were the ‘bestest’ babysitter that he ever had. Even asks about you sometimes.”

You fight the urge to smile too openly, not wanting to seem too affected by the gentleness that suddenly lingers in the space between you two, “I’m glad. And…are you still working for your uncle?”

It’s as if you’ve thrown a switch, causing all the warmth to evaporate from his features. His jaw tightens, as his brow furrows. Settling a coldness over his expression, “Who the fuck told you that?”

You blink, surprised at the sudden harshness of his words. “Yuuji mentioned it,” you murmur, quieter now, careful. The hesitation in your voice isn’t feigned, and you realise you’ve broken the golden rule of ‘never push Choso Kamo about his personal life.’

Choso doesn’t seem keen on letting you explain, as his glare cuts through you, “If you wanted to snoop into my life, just ask me your stupid questions, okay? Don’t drag my little brother into it.”

The accusation lands like a slap, stinging you more than you expected, “What? I wasn’t snooping,” you insist, defences flaring open, “He told me that himself. I didn’t even ask him anything, and I didn’t ask anything else!”

He just stares at you, eyes burnished and unreadable, but he seems mollified by your answer. Like he knows that your explanation is sincere, but the chasm is nigh impossible to bridge, “Sure. Okay.”

You don’t know how to respond, opening your mouth to ask what on earth has made him so unreasonable. To dig the tips of your almond nails into his long sleeves, and demand that he treats you as adoringly as everyone else in your life does. But he interrupts you first, “Your order’s coming.”

Choso’s tone is clipped, colder. As though he’s already moved on, “And I’ve got a lot of other customers to serve. Nice seeing you again, or whatever.”

A dismissal, if there ever was one. The embarrassment rushes up your neck, hot and insistent, but you bite your tongue. You let your heels clack a little more loud than necessary, as you stomp away. You’re swivelling your head to deliver a final, withering stare but his gaze is no longer on you.

Choso’s looking at the table where everyone is sitting. Where your friends are laughing, leaning into one another as they snap their final graduation photos. Where Geto has his lips pressed to Satoru’s cheek in a rare display of affection, arms linked with Shoko and Utahime. Where even Nanami’s smiling, the sunlight leafing through his golden waves of thick hair.

There’s no anger in Choso’s eyes, or even that solitary, brooding stare. He looks almost…sad. Profoundly sorrowful, in a deep and aching way that makes your anger dissipate.

He’s looking at your friends, at their graduation certificates stacked in sleeves on the table, as though he’s lost something that he never had. It aches your chest tightly, a knot pulling at your heart.

You find yourself blinking furiously, feeling as though you've just lost something yourself, but you fight back the salt that threatens to blur your vision before your friends see.

THREE YEARS LATER.

Your day had started off deceptively well, like a glass of water poured perfectly. Clear, refreshing, with no chance of spilling. The sun was shining, your skin looked like it was having its best day, and there wasn’t a cloud in sight. But of course, it didn’t take long for things to spiral, as they tend to do.

It was like playing a real-life Sisyphus game, except instead of a boulder, it was a series of small, dumb annoyances that you couldn’t dodge fast enough.

First, Satoru had texted to cancel lunch. And to be fair, you weren’t that bothered. He had been talking all week about a world-renowned professor dropping in on his fourth-years Honours class, something about nuclear engineering. And you knew that Satoru lived for anything involving theoretical mass and explosions.

Then, your favourite tote bag had decided it was done with you. The strap had snapped off with a surprising, sudden violence. Your beautiful new water bottle had hit the floor with a sickening, metallic thud. Pens rolled across the tiles like little soldiers. You had been kneeling, already late for class, muttering curses under your breath when your phone had rung.

Your mother.

And you already knew that tone well enough, that voice that could cut through steel.

“You missed the charity dinner? You know how embarrassing it is for your father and I to come up with excuses, just to explain your absence —”

Yeah, like you had personally insulted her by choosing to study for your exams, instead of milling around an event hall. You tried to explain, but it was like trying to explain Satoru’s quantum physics to the wall. Totally pointless, and not worth your time and energy. And naturally, her tone escalated, because that’s what she just tended to do. Nevermind that she was calling from some ritzy hotel in Europe, crackling over the phone.

And then, just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, the course coordinator paged you in for a meeting. You were still in your first few weeks of medicine, so you had been scratching your brain for what he could have possibly wanted, snapping gum as you rushed and clacked up stone steps, breezing through campus.

Now, here you were. Standing in front of his desk with your arms crossed, almost petulantly. The room smelled like old coffee, and expired textbooks as the man coughed, leaning back against his desk, littered with academic transcripts and stacked envelopes.

“Look, there’s no denying that you’re one of our most brilliant students. All the tutors and lecturers admire your work ethic,” and the professor stopped, and you grimaced. Ah, here it comes.

“But, you’ve chosen Ieiri Shoko as your partner for the past three years, am I correct in saying this?” His dark eyes are narrowed behind wiry glasses, as you frowned.

“Yes.”

Shoko had practically excelled in Pre-Med alongside you, surviving late night study rants, extreme caffeine dependency, and textbook-induced breakdowns.

“You work together well,” the coordinator adds, looking like he was trying to make this sound like a compliment, “But you need to branch out. Develop your versatility. In a noble field, such as medicine, it’s important to be able to work with others. Not rule and conquer.”

You blink at him, “Branch out? I don’t know how else to say this, but I don’t like anyone else in my class. And Shoko and I are easily the best.”

He ignores your comments, “So, I’ve thought it better to move you to a new stream. Instead of Tuesday’s clinical practice, I’ll have you attend the Thursday session, starting today. There’s a new partner for you, and I assure you, he is just as competent as Ieiri Shoko,”

You doubt it. No-one can handle the sight of infected perineum stitches like Shoko can.

It seems there’s only one card left for you to pull, “My grandfather paid for this entire wing of the building. His name is on the plaque outside.”

The coordinator doesn’t even budge, “That may be true. But you still need to grow. You will never learn if you just continue to stick with what is familiar.”

You leave the office with a sour taste in your mouth, clutching the crisp sheet of paper that’s already being emailed to your student account, no doubt.

“Collaboration,” you’re muttering under your breath, “Building character, my ass.” You’re squinting at the page, trying to decipher the name of your new stream partner, but it’s obscured by a hastily scribbled note with your classroom change.

The faint ache in your neck refuses to budge, and you roll your shoulders with a sigh. Pushing through the double doors to the anatomy facility. Immediately, the frigid air bites at your cheeks, sharp and unwelcome. These buildings always feel like high-tech mausoleums, with tables lined up like gleaming altars. Surfaces cold enough to numb your fingertips if you’re careless.

The faint, cloying scent of formaldehyde hangs in the air, sharp and chemical. It’s supposed to preserve the cadavers, but it has the unfortunate side effect of making your stomach growl at the worst times. Hunger, and embalming fluid. A combination so disgusting that you try not to dwell on it for too long.

Your lab coat is rubbing uncomfortably against your arms, and your Loewe sweater is bunched awkwardly around your elbows. It’s a long-suffering sigh that echoes the hall as you shove the heavy barred doors to the classroom.

The tutor is a stalk-like man, with perpetually knitted brows, glancing up at you as you enter, “Ah, yes. The transfer,” he’s brisk with it, “Got the note about you moving to my Thursday stream. Just sit over there, for now. Yeah, there. Your partner should be along soon. If he’s a no-show, I’ll reassign you to a different table.”

You nod wordlessly, scanning the room as you head to your non-descript, assigned corner. The faces at the other tables blur together, some curious and others indifferent. Most focused on pushing worksheets under steel clipboards.

Great. A room full of strangers with all the warmth of wet cardboard.

Sliding into your plastic seat, you pull your notebook out and flip it open, the pages crinkling and echoing in the too-quiet room. It’s a minute, maybe two of shifting uncomfortably in your chair, feeling the awkward hollowness of sitting alone at a two-person station. But the door swings open with a groaning creak.

“Perfect! Full class today, that’s what I like to see. Just head to your usual spot, and I’ll start passing the models around.”

You glance up, squinting at the figure who’s broad enough to cause a solar eclipse of the fluorescent light.

“Get out,” you blurt.

“This is my class,” Choso Kamo stares at you, equally bewildered. His bronze eyes widen briefly, flickering from your face to the lab tables, to the unaware tutor.

“Don’t care. Get out,” you scowl, speechless for a moment, “No. Don’t sit. This is my assigned stream. Don’t tell me that you’re my —”

“Partner?” Choso finishes for you, deadpan.

“Of all the people in this entire school —”

“I’m starting to feel offended,” Choso cuts in, already pulling out the chair beside you, and slinging his bag down with an air of resignation.

“What are you doing here?”

Choso’s lips twitch, but he doesn’t quite smile, “I’m getting an education. Obviously.”

Your gaze flickers away from his unfairly handsome face, following the motion of his hand as he shifts. There’s a single black hair tie, looped around his wrist.

But something just does not add up for you. This isn’t just any medical program. It’s the kind of rigorous, cutthroat, soul-consuming degree that requires three years of a top GPA from Pre-Med. It’s designed to weed out the faint hearted before the first semester is even over. Graduates here don’t just get jobs. They get titles, and invitations to Westminster where the British monarch probably bestows them with Dame, or Sir, or some other archaic title.

And Choso Kamo is a high school dropout, with nary a certificate to his name.

“You got into medicine?” It’s as blunt as you can get.

“What? Like it’s hard?”

“Don’t quote Legally Blonde at me,” You snarl, wordlessly taking the tray of silicone gashes from the tutor.

Choso blinks, as though he’s truly stumped by your hostile reaction, “Then don’t ask stupid questions.” He seems…different now. Sharper, and less apologetic. There’s a streak of confidence that’s as unnerving as it is infuriating. Is he taller? He seems taller.

You exhale sharply, a sound between frustration and resignation. It’s not like you can go up to the course coordinator now and say, ‘Oh, sorry! I can’t be in this stream because my new partner is the boy who broke my heart in high school. I cried and threw up on my best friend’s blazer for three days.’

But you’ve definitely given the group chat enough material to fuel their devious amusement for days, even weeks. You’re practically writing the jokes for them.

With a defiant swing of your arm, you hoist your bag onto the desk. The soft leather tanking against the sterile surface, like a gauntlet being thrown. You slide it firmly into position, the strap dangling just enough to make a point. That this is your line in the sand.

“Don’t move one centimetre over your side of the desk.”

Choso just rolls his eyes.

“They…modify bacterial ribosomes.”

“Wrong.”

You sigh and tap the edge of your notebook with the tip of your mechanical pencil. The rhythm is irregular, your thoughts too scrambled to produce anything like a steady beat.

“They inactive carbapenems,” you try again, your tone pitched with the kind of hope that knows it’s already on life support.

“Nope.”

Choso’s shaking his head, the movement loose and lazy, and it sends strands of his chestnut hair tumbling into his face. The harsh fluorescent lights above make his hair shine with an almost metallic lustre, and as he tugs a thick sweater over his broad frame, your gaze drifts.

The fabric of his white top is riding up, revealing a pale stretch of skin. There’s the faintest dusting of dark hair trailing downwards, and your eyes snap back to the textbook. Your cheeks flushed, for the briefest second as your resolve breaks.

“Just tell me the answer.”

Choso exhales, in a soft and patient sound, sliding the textbook your way. He’s tapping the page with his finger, his blunt nail landing on the highlighted sentence.

“Extended-Spectrum Beta-Lactamases hydrolyse a wide range of beta-lactam antibiotics, including third-generation cephalosporins. This contributes to antibiotic resistance.” His voice is smooth, but it carries that faint rasp that always makes it sound like he’s just woken up.

“I was close.”

“Close doesn’t get you any marks,” Choso replies, deadpan.

Your retort dies on your glossy lips, when a sharp shhh cuts through the air. You glance up, spotting a student two tables away, glaring at you over the rim of her stylish tortoiseshell glasses.

Your next sip of coffee is deliberate, making an obnoxious gurgle as you drain the bottom of your cup. Choso’s eyes flick to the order scribbled on the side, Caramel Crunch Latte, Extra Whip. His lips twitch, but what can you say? Satoru’s dropped a habit or two on you over the years.

This has become the routine over the past few weeks. The outright disdain you had initially felt had eroded, once you had realised that you were truly stuck with the man. It had become something closer to a begrudging truce, but ‘truce’ may be too generous a word.

The two of you found yourselves studying together. Regularly. Choso needed to interact more with people, and less with his old, dusty laptop. And you needed a study partner that could match your wits. Unfortunately, Choso seemed entirely oblivious to the reason you nursed an ancient grudge against him, choosing to accept your bad attitude in stride.

It doesn’t help that Choso is, well, hot now.

In high school, he had always been cute in that underdog way. Endearing, if not exactly the type to inspire confidence. He had been the subject of your sweet trope-like fantasy that you would nurture during long, dull classes.

You, the radiant prom queen, standing under a canopy of glittering lights, extending a perfectly manicured hand to him. The shy, awkward loser who’d clearly underestimated how gorgeous his messy hair and tendency to trip over his own words were. Ugh, now you’re not sure who had been the bigger loser.

But three years had passed, and the Choso that sat across from you now bore only a passing resemblance to that daydream. Time, it seemed had been suspiciously kind to him. Unfairly, even. His frame was lean but undeniably defined. His shyness remained, because you knew that he refused to correct the woman at the food trucks whenever she got his name wrong, but it had softened into something less clumsy, and more self-contained. Far less teenage angst.

The dark violet smudges beneath his eyes were still there, giving him that haunted and sleep—deprived look. And his hair was still the same stringy, chestnut mop that you remembered. But it was more of a deliberate statement now, instead of an oversight. It hung just over his shoulders, and you had heard many a passerby giggle and whisper about hot emos on campus. Like, get in line.

“What are you doing next weekend?”

The question comes so abruptly that your head snaps up like a spring-loaded trap.

“Huh?” You blink, the tip of your pencil teetering dangerously close to snapping against the page.

Choso stares back at you, his expression maddeningly neutral, “Like, are you busy?”

“It’s my friend’s birthday on Saturday, we’re going out at night,” you’re narrowing your eyes at him, already feeling your composure fray.

It’s Suguru’s birthday, and Gojo’s gone full-out with a surprise planned at some five-star restaurant. You managed to get your hands on a vintage vinyl turntable for him, courtesy of a Sotheby’s auction.

Choso nods, like he’s filing that away somewhere, “What about Sunday?”

“Sunday?” You repeat, dragging it out, “I’m free, I guess.” Against all reason, you find yourself answering honestly, even as some internal voice is screaming at you to lie and make up an excuse.

“Do you want to study at my place?”

There’s a pause, long enough for the air to grow heavy between you two. You wonder if he remembers the last time that you asked him to go out with you. Your eyebrows shoot up, and your mouth must be twitching in something close to incredulity.

Choso notices, for his ears go pink first. Then his cheeks, like someone’s spattered him with a splotchy watercolour paint. The flush sits pretty, just under the dark mark that crosses the bridge of his nose, “No, I mean, like really study. Just studying. It’s easier than being here…” He twitches, looking anywhere but you, “Yuuji would be happy to see you again, and stuff.”

And stuff. How ridiculous that two words make your heart trip over itself. Your three-year resolve to keep him firmly in the do not touch zone has basically cracked wide open. There’s a traitorous smile tugging at the corner of your lips, but you manage to suppress it. Barely. Playing it off with a nonchalant hum.

“Hmm. Sure, I’ll think about it.”

Choso lives in an apartment now. Not a polished high-rise with sleek fixtures and panoramic views, but a tired and unremarkable building with flickering yellow lights that cast long and ominous shadows along the stairwell. You clutch the slip of paper that he scribbled his address on, squinting at the nearly illegible scrawl. It’s barely decipherable, a penmanship perfect for prescriptions and indecipherable notes.

In your other hand, you balance a box of cream rolls from the bakery that Nanami swears by, their golden horns stuffed with airy dairy and dusted with cinnamon sugar. The smell is warm and sweet, a sharp contrast to the questionable stairwell.

The ascent feels longer than it should, each step accompanied by the faint swing of those tired lights overhead. But you bite back any judgement, you’ve made that mistake before.

Someone else is already there, a tall figure that knocks on Choso’s door with wide, lazy knuckles. Once. Twice. The man huffs, pocketing his phone and pulling out a key. There’s a practiced ease to the way he clicks the lock open, and for a moment, you hesitate, wondering if you’re witnessing a breaking-and-entering type of situation.

But there’s something familiar about the muted shock of rosy, pink hair that spikes over his head.

“What are you doing?” His voice is rough, deep, with an edge of irritation that makes you stand a little straighter. He looks over you once, and his eyes fall on the box of pastries in your hands. Disinterest giving way to a little bit of curiosity. It reminds you of Itadori Yuuji.

“Uh,” you clear your throat, “Choso invited me.”

The man’s eyebrows lift in surprise, and you’re fascinated by the tattoos that curl around his face. Even running along his jawline, and down his neck. There are silver studs littering his ear, and if you didn’t know better, you would say that there are real precious stones scattered among them.

“Didn’t know he had a date.” The man seems gruffly amused, and you stomp your heels, the sound snapping off worn walls.

“It’s not a date. We’re studying.”

“Don’t care. Didn’t really ask.”

With that, he swings the door open, stepping inside before you can. You linger in the doorway, before hesitantly following him, watching as he kicks the door shut with his heel. He seems to be making himself at home like he owns the place, peering through an empty fridge and rifling through cabinets. All before collapsing on the sagging couch like it’s his throne, sprawled out as he starts scrolling through his phone again.

You just perch awkwardly on the edge of a cold chair, as the space suddenly feels oddly claustrophobic. Your fingers toy with the edge of your notebook, as you wonder whether you need to call Choso, to see if this was all a mistake. Instead, your gaze flickers over to the man sitting opposite you.

You’re sure that he comes from money. You’ve spent enough summer holidays backstage at Milan and Paris shows to recognise the season’s latest pieces. And the crimson racing jacket on his shoulders is definitely a Dior piece that costs more than what you assume is the rent of this entire apartment complex. Plus, you had spent enough time flicking through Van Cleef’s catalogue to recognise the whirring, high-jewellery piece that sat on his wrist. A watch with an eye-like mechanism, studded with Burmese rubies. Easily the price of your penthouse.

“So, you friends with Choso?” He asks suddenly, lowering his phone. His eyes are sharp russet, locking with yours.

“We know each other from high school,” you say, trying to keep your tone neutral. It’s best to leave it at that, it’s safer that way. You’re playing Choso’s game, the one where you don’t share a thing about your personal life.

“Hmph,” The sound is more of a grunt than a response, and it makes you bristle. Why bother asking a question if you’re not interested in the answer?

“Did I leave the door unlocked?”

You hear Choso’s faintly bewildered murmur, almost to himself, before he catches sight of you. It’s cute, how a bashful smile creeps over his face again, almost embarrassed at the sight of you. But it darkens instantly, sharply. His bronze eyes are fixed on the man that loiters on his couch.

“Get out.”

The man is unfazed, “Why? Am I interrupting your date?”

“It’s not a date. We’re studying.” Choso’s mirroring your exact, previous words. His tone is stiff, like you’ve never heard it before. A snarl, with irritation bubbling underneath the surface.

“I don’t know how else I can stress this enough, brat. But I really do not care what you do to get off.” The man drawls, pushing himself off the couch. He’s absurdly tall, easily the height of the ceiling. You catch a glimpse of the tattoos trailing up his forearm, dark ink that winds around his wrist. A startling splash of red staining the sleeve of the pristine jacket. It’s dried up now, crusting the edges of the fabric. Sort of like…

Weird. And impossible.

Choso grunts, “Fine. Get up. Go,” and he’s gesturing towards a door leading into another room, his jaw clenched tight. The muscles in his neck are taut, the apology in his expression at you somehow mixed with a faint flicker of regret, like he wishes you weren’t here to see this.

What happens next is an absolute masterclass on being nosy. You’ve edged closer to the door, shifting on the couch so you’re practically perched on the armrest. You can hear the muffled thrum of Choso and the stranger’s voice through the door, but it’s not enough. Curiosity is clawing her sharp nails at you, and you wonder if you should text Satoru. Or maybe drop a quick message in the group chat.

You end up leaning in closer, ignoring the way that you’re teetering on the very edge.

The conversation is low, like the rumble of thunder in the distance, but the voices are gradually building until —

“What? You did not just fuckin’ throw something at me!” The man’s voice booms so loud that you almost jump out of your skin, “What is wrong with you? Can’t even have an honest conversation these days?”

Choso’s response is tight, simmering with frustration that you don’t understand, “Nothing you do is honest. And don’t break into my place then!”

“Your place?” The man’s scoff is almost a sneer, like he’s amused at the mere thought, “Brat, let’s not forget all the favours I’ve done you.” There’s a crash, something hitting the floor with a thud, and the man’s voice bellows again, “Oi! Put that down right now. Don’t you dare throw something else at me. Fuck, you’ve got good aim, I’ll give ya’ that.”

You can hear Choso shuffle, spit something sharp in response.

“You’ve done all these things for me before, eh? Why the hesitation now? Got tired of cleaning it all up?”

Choso’s response is firm through the thin walls, “I’m done with doing your dirty work all the time.”

The silence that follows is thick, suffocating, punctuated with a low and disbelieving laugh.

“You said that last time. But you came crawling back when you couldn’t handle looking after the kid all on your lonesome.”

“Leave Yuuji out of this!”

There’s another muffled scuffle, a loud thud that makes your heart race as the stranger growls, “Can’t believe you bit me.”

The door swings open with a suddenness that almost knocks you off your seat. Choso’s practically putting his entire back into shoving the man out with a sharp grunt, like he’s had enough.

The stranger turns, giving you a lazy, bored wave. Like he knows that it will simply irk Choso off even more. And he’s right. Choso, not having it for a second, snaps at him, “Get out. And don’t come back.”

The man rolls his eyes, but not before pulling out a pricey Italian wallet, slapping a wad of thick bills down on the kitchen counter, “That’s for this month. I’ll send a cheque next month for the little brat’s birthday.”

Then he’s gone, muttering something about bitchy, little bastard children, born on the wrong side of the sheets, with sharp teeth.

Choso’s whirling around to you, his expression unreadable and blank. Like the surface of still water that refuses to betray even a ripple of emotion. You school your features, meeting his gaze with a look of equal, quiet disinterest.

“Friend of yours?” You ask, your voice cool. But there’s questions dancing on the tip of your tongue, and you can taste them in the air.

He doesn’t answer right away. He’s flicking through the thick stack of bills that the stranger left on the counter. The sound of cash shifting in his hands is oddly loud, and you whistle low, almost involuntarily. It makes Choso look up, catching your appreciative gaze. His fingers tighten around the stack, his jaw clenching, as if to keep in whatever thoughts or words are threatening to spill out.

“Don’t say anything.” His voice is a low mutter, hard.

“I didn’t.”

Choso looks at you again, his hazel eyes softening just enough that you catch the flicker of something unsure. He lets out a low sigh, “But you want to ask.”

“Will you let me ask?” You’re pushing, your voice a little softer and coaxing than you intended. You can already see the signs, the slight stiffening of his shoulders, the way his gaze flickers to the door as if he’s considering an exit. Choso’s like a clam, snapping shut, as if there is a pearl that he’s not ready to share.

“What do you want to know?” He’s saying this like it’s a chore, as if it is the last thing he wants to do.

You make your way to the kitchen counter, “What will you tell me?”

If Choso is irritated by the vague, passive nature of your questions, he doesn’t show it. He simply tugs his purple sweater down, sharply. “Yuuji will be sad if his uncle didn’t send him money for his birthday. He turns ten next month.”

“So that was…Uncle Kuna,” you ask, murmuring more to yourself than to him. But Choso’s sharp gaze flicks to you, a faint confirmation in the nod that follows.

“Mhm.”

And just like that, something clicks in your brain. A conversation that you had overheard once, perhaps a year or two ago. A rare moment that both your parents had been home, still too distracted to realise that you were listening. The realisation hits you hard, like a small shot of adrenaline, “That’s not Sukuna, is it? Ryomen Sukuna?”

Choso’s amber look is like fragile glass now, “Yeah. How’d you figure?”

In a world such as yours and Satoru’s, it’s quite hard to avoid gossip, and whispers that float around in the backrooms of business meetings, or in the too-quiet halls of private clubs. For all the older business-clans, Sukuna is quite the upstart. A man who clawed his way to the top, not just content with money, but power and influence as well. Apparently, he made quite the name for himself, building an empire with wealth beyond measure.

And all at the low price of being wanted in more than thirty-five countries and territories. A businessman, a crook and a criminal. Your father said that Ryomen Sukuna’s ledgers were written in red ink, fresh blood for both personal and financial debts that were owed to him.

“Why did he say that you came crawling back to him?”

Choso’s eyes flutter shut, and you can see that he’s calculating whether it’s worth the effort to respond.

“He’s the reason I dropped out of school,” Choso mutters, the words low enough that almost don’t catch them. They land with a soft thud, the kind that makes your pulse stutter. You stare at him, with the kind of look that people give when a ticking time bomb has just been dropped in their lab.

Choso scoffs, eyes darting away, “Yeah. He’s always been sending money for Yuuji. And I was stuck doing his…favours.”

Suddenly, you’re back in high school. On Choso’s doorstep, watching him try to hide a cardboard box of surgical tools. There’s a little corkboard map in your head connected with red strings, as you pin other things on there. The latex gloves in the box, Choso’s general lack of squeamish misery when it comes to the stickier parts of medicine, and the bloodstain on Ryomen Sukuna’s Dior jacket.

It’s almost odd, in a morbid way, that a crime boss chooses the latest Vogue streetwear, instead of a dark Godfather suit and a cigar.

Your expression must betray the pieces that you’ve put together, because Choso’s eyes widen, like he can see the cogs turning in your brain. “Look,” he stammers, voice rougher now, with a nervous edge, “I didn’t do anything wrong. Never saw what he did. Not really. Just —”

You shush him gently, a hand reaching out to land on his, a little too quickly and a little too hot. The instant your skin brushes against his, there’s a sharp feeling. Like you’ve touched something that burns beneath the surface. His face flashes a faint pink, muscles stiffening as though your touch seared him in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

“Go on,” you hope that your tone is reassuring.

Choso swallows, his throat bobbing as his fingers suddenly curl around yours, “Anyway, I got tired of doing his dirty work, you know? Thought that if I dropped out, I could get a job. Work enough to support myself and Yuuji, without taking a single dollar from him.”

“But he’s your uncle?” Your question is tentative, like you’re testing the waters of a deeper pool, “Wouldn’t he support you, too?”

Choso’s sigh is deep and weary as he gently corrects you, “He’s Yuuji’s uncle. Yuuji’s my half-brother.”

Suddenly, Sukuna’s comment about ‘biting bastard children’ snaps into place with clarity. Oh.

You’re not sure what to say now, what words could possibly fill the emptiness that lingers between the two of you. What a misery it would have been. Being a teenager with such potential, forced to close off your own future for the sake of family, and those that you love.

You remember Choso’s face that day, after graduation, with his hollow expression as he watched your friends celebrate their youth. There’s a bitter lump in your throat, but for once, you keep it down. This really isn’t about you.

You frown, the thought sneaking up on you and settling in your chest like a splinter you can’t ignore. “He said you owed him favours.”

Choso exhales sharply, his shoulders stiffening as if bracing for something unpleasant. His voice is low, bitter. “You think high school dropouts pay their own way into med school without a benefactor?”

Right.

“So?” Choso’s voice cuts through the fog of your thoughts, and you blink at him, startled.

“So, what?”

Choso shifts, unease seeping into his posture. His calloused fingers are still curled tightly around yours, like he’s afraid that you’ll pull away and slip past him.

“Are you angry?”

You’re not sure whether to laugh, or sigh, “Why would I be angry?”

He’s hesitating, dark hair falling loose around his face, “I was a jerk to you.” The words come quietly, like they’ve been gnawing at him, biting at the edges of his thoughts, “At the time, I don’t know, I guess I was just angry. Everything felt unfair, and I didn’t want anyone else to be involved.”

You frown, not fully understanding what to say, “You were still a teenager,” you say slowly, like you’re trying to convince both him and you. You hesitate, unsure whether you’re underplaying things, so the worlds come out a little jagged, not quite as comforting as you wished. “I guess…” It feels weak as your words suddenly stagger off.

Choso’s eyes flicker to yours, searching, like he’s trying to figure if there’s something else, you’re not saying, “What?”

You can practically hear Satoru’s voice in your heard, groaning and whining about screwing the long game. But you puff a breath through your cheeks, worried you’ll lose the nerve, “You know, I really liked you, right, Choso?”

Choso’s mouth drops open, as his face flickers with disbelief. The same way it had three years ago, “Like, really?”

You nod, a smile tugging at your lips without even thinking, “Yeah. And you know, everyone else thought I was being, like, silly. But I really liked you. I just never knew what to say to you.” It feels so stupid, and obvious now. But back then, it had been a great chunk of your world. You force yourself to hold his bashful gaze.

Choso’s quiet for a moment, before he admits, “I couldn’t believe it when you asked me to be your date. I thought it was just a game you were playing, or there was no-one left to ask.”

And then, after a beat, “Who did you go with?”

You snicker, a little too bitter and honest, “No-one.”

Choso’s quiet, relieved ‘damn’ makes you laugh even more, threading your fingers with his.

“I just can’t believe he’s in your classes. What are the odds?” Satoru mutters, abandoning his sunglasses for the evening, his bright eyes flashing like sunlight refracted on water. He claims that his eyes are less sensitive today, but you’re certain it’s an excuse for him to freely rifle through your kitchen without obstruction. In the living room, the rest of your friends hover like a pack of starved hyenas, waiting for the snacks that Satoru is currently monopolising.

“I’m telling you, when I first saw him, my heart dropped straight to my ass,” you say, tearing open a bag of sour cream crisps with more force than necessary. The chips tumble into the earthenware bowl in a noisy cascade.

Satoru snickers, expertly arranging small platters on a big, oaken serving board, “I pity the lack of cushioning it got.”

You flick a stray crisp at him, the chip bouncing off his shoulder with a gratifying crunch. For a moment, his grin is steady, but it quickly turns rueful. That slight furrow in his brows, the way the corner of his mouth twitches downwards. There’s something else simmering under that veneer of carelessness.

“You’re not happy, Satoru?”

His expression hardens slightly, plucking a cluster of wine-red grapes, twisting them off their stems with methodical precision.

“Well, yeah,” Satoru admits after a beat, his tone uncharacteristically sober, “I’m glad that he’s, like, nice now or whatever. But he basically broke your heart, didn’t he?”

You glance away, your fingers tighten on the corner of another snack bag, “He had his reasons.” Your flat reply avoids his curious gaze, perceptive and knowing. You hadn’t filled him on the Sukuna-lore. You’re not sure what it is, but there’s bad blood between the Gojos and Sukuna, and you’re not keen to exacerbate it.

Oh, hey, Satoru! So, Choso is like Sukuna’s adopted nephew. And I think Sukuna forced him to like clean up people’s chopped fingers and arms, or whatever. But I have a big crush on him, yep. Right after I said that I wouldn’t catch feelings again.

Satoru scoffs, wagging a long finger at you. A glistening droplet of grape juice clings to his thumb like a ruby bead, “Don’t make excuses for someone hurting your feelings. You know better than that.” His tone carries the same theatrical lilt as always, but it’s underpinned with something firmer, genuine.

Before you can fire back, a new voice meanders into the kitchen, soft and unhurried, “Who hurt your feelings?”

It’s Suguru, propped lazily against the doorway, choppy layers freshly framing his sharp features. The dim kitchen light catches on the faint sheen of his silver rings as he crosses his arms.

Satoru grabs a bag of pretzels, lobbing it towards him, “Choso Kamo. Remember that emo guy I told you about?”

Suguru catches the bag with practised ease, without looking, his mauve gaze flicking to you. You silently curse Gojo Satoru for broadcasting your love life, or lack thereof, to what feels like half the city.

“What’s he look like again?”

You narrow your eyes at the tall man, “He was literally in our grade.”

Suguru shrugs, his palms raised in mock innocence, “I never saw him, okay? He was quiet as hell, never had classes with him.”

“He wasn’t that quiet,” you protest, but your words are drowned out by Satoru’s triumphant declaration.

“Hold up! I got visual aid.”

He’s whipped out his phone, unlocking it with a brief glance of his face, before shoving the dimmed screen inches from Suguru’s puzzled face. The photo, a grainy yearbook photo of Choso in junior year, gleams under the kitchen lights. You wonder if you’re going to need to fight for your life on the frontlines again.

For a moment, Suguru’s expression remains neutral. Unimpressed even. Then, as if someone’s flipped a switch, his eyes widen with dawning recognition, “This is Kamo? His girlfriend’s my neighbour.”

Half a grape travels down Satoru’s windpipe, “The villain!”

Your best friend’s exclamation ricochets off the kitchen walls, loud enough to silence whatever protest was forming on your lips. Not that you had much ground to stand on. How would you even know? Choso had talked to you about his family, not his love life. You saw him a few times a week, and then the two of you would drift away, back to your own orbits. And he was a grown man with a life that had surely moved past you.

You had told him that you had liked him, and he hadn’t said a word back that hinted at any mutual connection. How had you missed that?”

Satoru is still recovering from his near demise at the hands of fruit, “What girlfriend? You’re sure, Suguru?”

Suguru raises an eyebrow, looking like he regrets ever opening his mouth, “Hey. Don’t pin this on me. But he comes by, with a little pink-haired kid. His brother? And she’s like talkative,” and he gestures vaguely above his head, “Like, really tall. Blonde.”

Your eyes had drifted to the unopened case of vodka sitting on the counter.

Satoru clocks you immediately, “Don’t even think about it. We’re going to handle this like mature adults.”

“We?”

Satoru nods solemnly, looping his arm through Suguru’s leather jacket, “Yes. Your Choso loss is my Choso loss,” and he pulls Suguru closer, “Our Choso loss.”

Suguru sighs, not shaking him off as he looks at you sympathetically, “Why am I a part of this? No offense. You could skip all this misery, and I don’t know because I’m just spit balling here, ask him?”

The dark-haired man continues, “Or, and I know this is radical for two divas like you, you could just let it go and spare yourself the drama. If you’re going to be working in the same field, wouldn’t professionalism be better?”

Satoru scoffs, “Or! We do some reconnaissance. I mean, you’re the girlfriend’s neighbour, Suguru. Go snoop around.”

“Why is it always me?” Suguru’s pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Because it is always you. You’ve got the best sneaky liar face I know,” Satoru replies breezily, ignoring how Suguru mutters about the love he feels in this kitchen, “And you need to do this for the greater good. All that noble shit.”

Suguru shoots you a half-hearted glare, as if this is somehow your fault, and not Satoru pulling every string. You’re one more inconvenience away from slumping onto the counter, head in hands, a shot glass by your side.

Your mind flickers to the hair tie that Choso always wears on his wrist. It could be innocuous, sure, but the green-eyed monster claws itself up in your chest. You imagine this faceless girlfriend passing it to him, like an intimate, inside joke.

“What am I supposed to do? Corner him in the break room on placements, and interrogate him? Should I pull out the clan funds, and pay him to date me?”

“It’s what I did with Suguru,” Satoru quips, not missing a beat.

“Now who’s the liar,” Suguru murmurs.

The hospital’s looming ahead. A hulking mass of glass and steel that outline the bleak sky. It’s a bitter Monday morning, the kind that bites at your cheeks and sinks into your bones, no matter how tightly you bundle up. The drive has been long and so utterly tedious, the pale sunlight doing little to brighten the cityscape as you crawl along congested streets.

Now, on the far edge of the suburbs, you’re left squinting and fuming as you circle the parking lot for the third time. The situation is grim, spots are scarce, and every turn feels like an ill-fated gamble that only ends in someone else’s bumper.

You mutter curses under your breath, the heater in your car doing little to thaw your mood.

Choso’s already there, not a massive surprise, for his apartment is far closer than your waterfront residence, smack-bang in the city’s central district. His dark hair is loosely tied back, and he’s thrown an old hoodie over his scrubs. There’s a clipboard tucked under his arm, and a coffee cup in the other.

He extends the cup towards you without preamble, “Want it?”

You blink, catching on the incongruity of the gesture. But Suguru’s intel still echoes in your mind, he has a girlfriend.

You furrow your brow, the cup hovering between you, “Where’s yours?”

Choso shrugs, “I don’t drink coffee. Makes me jittery.”

This answer irritates you for no logical reason. Who doesn’t drink coffee? It feels like some fundamental character flaw, and you snatch the cup from his hand. Doing your very best not to unfairly glare at him, for the sole crime of having a life outside of you.

It’s hard to focus when he’s nailed your exact order. You lower the cup, the warmth seeping through the cardboard sleeve and into your fingers, doing little to melt the icy knot that sits in your chest.

Choso seems almost unnervingly chipper this morning, a far cry from his usual brooding demeanour. There’s no scowl etched on his handsome face, no trace of his typical stoicism. Instead, he wears the faintest trace of a smile, a subtle and almost tentative thing that pulls at the corners of his mouth as he glances over a nearly printed itinerary.

The sight throws you further off-kilter. It’s rare to see him like this, easy and unguarded, and you can’t help the way your lips twitch, the barest hint of a smile threatening to escape before you smother it.

“We’re starting in the ER for two hours,” he reads aloud, voice steady, “then, the paediatric unit.” He pauses to flip the page, his expression shifting to mild exasperation, “And then, paperwork in the break room.”

“Figures,” you grumble, tucking your hands into your coat pockets, “Free labour from the students, yeah?”

Choso glances at you, from the corner of his eye, an unimpressed but faintly amused look on his face, “Thought that you would start the day with a more upbeat attitude.”

You grunt in response, which only earns a shake of his head as he folds the itinerary back into his clipboard.

A beat of silence stretches between you, only punctured by the sound of light metal snapping as you clip a badge to your pocket, but he’s speaking again.

“You good?”

His bronze eyes flick to yours, clearly searching, and your pulse stutters, “Yeah. Obviously.”

Choso takes a deep breath, his chest rising and gearing up for something monumental. The way his fingers fidget against the clipboard betrays him, they tap out a staccato rhythm. There’s a flush creeping on the back of his neck, subtle but unmistakeable.

“Want to get dinner tonight?” He blurts, the words tumbling out so fast that they barely sound like a sentence.

You blink at him, confused, “Bless you.” Your automatic response, because he spoke so quickly that it sounded as though he had sneezed.

Choso’s scowl is immediate, “No.” He says it firmly, drawing out each word in exasperation, “I asked if you wanted to get dinner tonight. After this.”

Oh. Oh.

The realisation hits you like a jolt, and for a second, all you can do is gape at him. He’s looking at you now, an almost defiant sort of expectation in his gaze, as though he’s worried that you’re going to laugh at him. But before you piece together a coherent response, there’s a sharp rap-rap-rap of knuckles on the doorframe.

The ward manager is here, her expression brisk and no-nonsense, gesturing for the two of you to begin your shift placement.

Your head snaps back at him, mouth moving before your brain diplomatically catches up, “I don’t think that’s fair to your girlfriend, do you?”

Choso’s brows knit together, his expression shifting to something startled and indignant. Irritated, even, as you push past him.

He’s trying to speak to you. It’s painfully obvious, as he’s got that mildly dazed look. All that awkward, earnest attention is squarely focused on you.

You’re having none of it.

He steps to your side as you shuffle through patient charts, his broad frame taking up more than his fair share of narrow space, shadowing your elbow as you scribble furious notes. His mouth opens, probably to say something that you don’t want to hear, but you’re faster.

“Hey, Choso, what’s her blood pressure?” You interrupt, not bothering to look up from the faintly lined paper.

There’s a second of hesitation before he answers, “120 over 50. Just write that down. Got it? Okay, yeah, can you stop moving for a second and —”

You squint at the chart, cutting him off again, “Hmm, don’t you think that the diastolic is a little low?”

His shoulders slump, “Yes, but the doctors already know that. She has hypothyroidism, you told me that when you interrupted me like half an hour ago. Can’t you just —” Choso stops mid-sentence again, muttering a resigned oh my god, when you pivot away and head to the next room without so much a glance back.

It sets the tone for the rest of the shift. You make a sport of avoiding him, weaving through the emergency department like a fish slipping upstream, leaving Choso stranded in your wake. He follows, persistent in his mild-mannered way, but you’re relentless.

“Can you hand me that chart?” He’s trying again, as you’re elbow deep in filing.

“Oh, this one?” You sweetly ask, holding it just out of his reach, before conveniently remembering that you need to double-check something on it. He just huffs at you.

By hour three, it’s clear that Choso’s patience is wearing thin, and fighting a war against his professionalism. He corners you near the supply cart while you rummage for gloves.

“There you are.”

“Oh, are we low on size medium?” You cut in, loud enough to catch the attention of a passing manager, “Should we restock?”

Choso inhales through his nose, “We’re not low on gloves. We’re fine on gloves. Can you stop talking about gloves for one second?”

You flash him a smile that’s all teeth, “Gloves are important, Choso. Hygiene is crucial.”

This time, you see him run an exasperated hand over his face, before realising that now he’s just contaminated his own pair of gloves. Snarling at you as he rips the blue latex off and reaching for the size large box.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, once and then twice. Then thrice, as if whoever’s contacting you as something urgent to say. You ignore it, you’ll check it after placements.

The hours tick by, and your strategy remains the same. Stay busy, stay distant, and stay unreachable. Don’t make it seem like you’re irrationally bothered by Choso having a life of his own and having a girlfriend. Or that you actually had hope that this time round, his feelings for you were requited.

By the time you both stumble into the break room, Choso looks as if he’s experienced the full emotional spectrum, like he’s been knocked through the five stages of grief and landed somewhere in the resigned space of acceptance. He looks as if he’s clearly preparing to lecture you, to tirade you on professional conduct and —

Without warning, his phone buzzes.

You don’t even look up from cracking open your water bottle, the sound of plastic barely crinkles louder than the dull thud of your own heartbeat. Choso glances at you out of the corner of his eyes, a flash of alarm crossing his face, before he draws his attention back to the screen of his phone.

You hear the faintest scoff from his direction, and he’s shaking his head as you watch in mild interest.

“What?”

Choso doesn’t answer immediately, still scrolling through his phone.

“I’m not dating Tsukumo Yuki.”

Your mouth goes dry. You blink rapidly, wide-eyed as if he’s just spoken in an ancient, dead language.

“What?” You manage weakly, “Who? What? —”

There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, and you fear the cause of this slow and curling chest is a meddling duo of two men, one with dark hair and the other with snowy-white.

Choso doesn’t even glance up at you, his voice tinged with something incredulous now, “Why is Gojo Satoru texting me? He says that you’re not replying to his or Geto Suguru’s messages. And apparently, this is super urgent, and he feels like he must do his divine duty by interfering before you do something stupid.

Choso pauses, finally looking at you as if he’s truly baffled, “And you all thought that I was dating Tsukumo.”

You’re crafting a list in your head. Twenty creative ways to kill Gojo Satoru and not land in prison afterwards.

Maybe you should ask Choso for Ryomen Sukuna’s contact.

“That’s crazy,” you say, the words tasting thin and hollow in a bitter, embarrassed lie.

Choso shakes his head at you, some dark strands of hair falling across his eyes, “She looks after Yuuji sometimes. I take him over to her place because Yuki’s adopted a kid, Todo. The two of them are friends.”

“Uh.”

Choso turns back to his phone screen, scrolling through whatever nonsense Satoru is feeding him, “Have you being icing me out all day, because you thought I had a girlfriend?”

“Will you hate me if I say yes?” You’re looking anywhere but him, focusing on the chipped, lilac paint on the break-room door. Or the slightly off-centre light bulb flickering above. Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you’re adding Geto Suguru to your kill list.

Choso’s voice is softer when he answers, almost too quiet, “Hey. You know I couldn’t hate you if I tried.” But there’s a strange mixture of amusement and disbelief in his voice, a bemused chuckle that lingers in the air, “Wow. Just wow.”

You grimace, fingers toying with the edge of the water bottle as you wrangle your thoughts into words, “Are you mad? I mean, look. I told you I liked you. And then you held my hands, so I thought you liked me back. And you got me coffee. But Suguru said you had a girlfriend, and you can’t blame me for being — Oh my god, I’m going to stop talking, you’re looking at me like I’ve gone crazy.”

Choso’s expression shifts, just staring at you. You don’t more than a split-second to process his strangely intense look. There’s no time to recover before he leans down, his hands surprisingly warm and gentle as they cradle the side of your face.

Your breath hitches, but before you can form another thought, his lips are on yours. They’re warm, deliberate and surprisingly firm. The scent of crisp green apples falls over you, as his hair envelops your face.

He pulls back just enough to study you, “Was that okay?” he asks, his fingers still lingering at the curve of your jaw, like he can’t believe he just kissed you. You can feel the sharp blush sting your face, as your heart practically goes into cardiac arrest, nodding quickly.

“Uh, I’m not really an expert in this field,” Choso murmurs, “But I can’t believe that I waited this long to do that.”

“You can do that again,” you say. Wondering if you should buy Satoru and Suguru a bouquet of flowers instead.

Choso, predictably, blushes deep enough that it nearly looks like he might combust. His eyes flicker away, avoiding your gaze in that way he does when he’s trying to sort through his emotions. But it’s hard to miss the warm flush that’s firmly planted on his neck.

“Can I do it over that dinner?” Choso murmurs, his voice dipping lower, before he quickly rephrases, “I obviously do want to kiss you now, again, that is, but if they catch us in the break room —”

You suddenly beam up at him, patting him on the cheek, “You can kiss me as much as you like over dinner.”

Choso looks as though he’s been struck with a metaphorical thunderbolt, as if he didn’t expect you to agree so straightforwardly. And then, as if he can’t help himself, he presses a quick and soft kiss to your forehead. For the briefest second, it feels as if you’re a teenager again, caught in the whirlwind of something simple and so sweet.

“Okay. So, is that a yes?” He asks, a little breathless, as if he’s not sure what kind of confirmation he’s just gotten but needing it to hear it anyway.

“If it’s a proper date, it’s a yes.”

Choso mutters under his breath, “You know Geto Suguru texted me with a five-paragraph apology, something about sneaking around my apartment. Stalking me this morning,” and here, he looks at you, utterly exasperated but fond, “Something about checking to see if I had a girlfriend. I mean, I don’t even know the guy. We never talked in school.”

You loop your arm with his, pulling him in slightly, “See, I always did say my friends were super nice. They’re going to be super nice, and normal. Trust me.”

ONE WEEK LATER.

“And to my brother-in-law, my brother-in-arms, my brother in the Constantinople Crusades of 1204,” Satoru hiccups, his words slurring together in a rambled mess, as he sways over the edge of Suguru’s arms, and for a split second, you’re worried the white-haired man is going to tip over entirely, “My new brother, Choso. We always knew it was going to happen, eh?”

Choso’s cheeks turn a faint shade of crimson in the sudden spotlight as everyone cheers, and he shifts awkwardly. Suguru’s shooting him an apologetic look, the corners of his mouth twitching as he props Satoru up, “He’s a lightweight. And we watched a historical movie last night.”

“I can tell,” Choso grumbles, his face flushed now as Satoru’s monologue drifts like an aimless plastic bag in the wind, his words growing nonsensical as you reach over to pinch at his cheeks. He yelps but continues to babble on about how he and Choso are going to be best friends now, and they’re going to go shopping together, and ice-skating, and fruit-picking. All nonsense burbles being strung together by the tequila shots that Satoru swore he could handle an hour ago.

You glance over at Choso, faintly embarrassed, but he just laughs, a sound that’s unexpectedly light and unguarded. His fingers slide into yours once more, and the motion is gentle and natural, as though this, you, are exactly where he’s meant to be. And he drapes the wide expanse of his aviator jacket over your shoulders.

Meanwhile, Suguru is wrestling with Satoru, pushing him back down from his impromptu toast to your boyfriend, before the bartender can usher you all towards the exit. The burly man is already giving Satoru’s drunken proclamations a nasty look.

Shoko, of course, is grinning at you, a tankard of beer glimmering in front of her. Her eyes gleam with the sharpness of someone who’s won a decent amount of money in a bet. And Utahime is standing back with a faintly judgemental expression that only veils her gossipy curiosity, and a glum look as she passes wads of cash into Shoko’s waiting hands.

“They really do like me,” Choso murmurs, his voice low and almost carrying the undertone of vulnerability, alongside some quiet self-awareness.

You laugh, brushing your thumb over the back of his hand, leaning in to press a quick peck to the dark mark that streaks over his face, “They all have no choice. You’re my boyfriend now.”

The words slip out effortlessly, and for a moment, they hang between you like something solid and unspoken, as though saying it aloud has made it feel real in a way it never quite did before. Choso’s eyes flick to yours, and something shifts in his expression — just a slight softening around the edges.

Then, without warning, you lean in, closing the distance between you, and kiss him. It’s slow, deliberate, with none of the frantic energy of your first kiss but instead the quiet certainty of something just beginning to bloom. You feel the faintest sigh from Nanami in the background, the sound of Geto groaning as Gojo whoops with drunken delight.

The noise from the bar fades into nothing as you focus entirely on the warmth of Choso’s shy lips against yours, the gentle pressure as he presses more into you, the soft thud of his heartbeat where your hand rests over his chest. For that moment, it’s just you and him, and everything else is an afterthought.

“Okay! I’ve had enough of the lot of you snogging and yelling in my bar! And take stupid Jack Frost out with ya’!”

#recs ★

533 notes · View notes

sturnslutz · 3 days ago

Text

matt assigns you a specific job.

heh. dilfceo!matt dare i say? lowk long fic to make up for lost time of matt and bee. im sorry if this is horrible it took me 6 hours to write it☹️ fluff and smut.

it was another day at work for you. come in, work on whatever you needed to, and see your oh, so favorite boss. matt and you continued seeing each other secretly but never actually fucking. it mostly consisted of dirty words getting passed back and forth, you giving him blowjobs, and kissing.

sure, you loved it all. but you just couldn't seem to get the fact out of your mind that matt hasn't actually pleasured you, once. he acts like he wants to, but in all seriousness you both really haven't had the time, and from his words, he wants to "take his time with you."

you weren't sure what he meant, but you weren't hesitant on waiting. just becoming more impatient by each day passing.

you were in the middle of writing some email when you got a text. you were allowed to be on your phone while working, but you just preferred not to, and your friends were aware of that so they knew not to text you unless it was an emergency.

so when you got the notification, to no surprise you were confused. you stopped typing and picked up your phone and looked at the name. 'Matthew Sturniolo (work ;))'

you looked at your phone even more confused as you open up the text.

"Come to my office when you can."

you weren't necessarily busy, so you just decided to go now. sure, you guys do something almost everytime you go into his office, but other times, he did actually need something from you as his assistant that didn't consist of getting his dick sucked.

you knocked on his door softly, waiting for his response. you heard a simple, "come in." and you walked in with a certain caution you rarely get. not because of matt, but because he texted you. even coming from him, the guy who made you suck his dick the first time meeting you, it seemed "unprofessional" to him.

you walked to his desk as he doesn't take his eyes off his computer. "sit, it won't take long." you sit in the chair across him and he finally lets his big blue dark eyes look up at you through his glasses. "are you good with kids?" he states calmly, but almost making you choke on your own breath from the abrupt question.

"a-am i what?" you state, looking up at him with the most confusion all day. why is he asking you this? "good with kids. you got any siblings or anything?" he says again, calmly, taking his glasses off so he can get a better look at your expression.

"um, no. i don't have any siblings, but i have babysat a couple times. wait- why are you asking me this? matt. are you asking because you think im pregnant?" you whisper the last sentence as if anyone else is in the room, cautious of what he might say, despite never fucking once so there's absolutely no possibility you're pregnant.

"what? no. we haven't had sex, bee. you wouldn't be able to be pregnant unless you were seeing someone else. besides that, i'm asking because i need someone to watch my 6 year old daughter tomorrow night. i'm going out with a couple friends and my brothers aren't available to watch her, so i'm asking you, the next person i trust."

your jaw quite literally dropped. "matt, you just dropped some crazy info to me. you've literally never told me anything about your family before! when the hell did you get a daughter, you have siblings, and you trust me? wait, im gonna need to take a breath. but i don't know i'm not seeing anybody else i just panicked!" you rant to him with your questions.

he chuckled softly at you. "yes, bee. i trust you. and yes, i do have a daughter. her mom and i broke up about 2 years ago, when i was 26 and now it's just me and my girl, amelia. i also have 3 brothers, 1 of them being my half brother, but the other 2 and i are triplets. my half brother is justin, and my brothers are nick and chris. you'll probably meet them one day."

you nod, taking in all the information and calmed down. "okay.. um, i think i can tomorrow. would you want me to stay the night with her also?"

he shrugs. "i'm not sure yet. i'll probably leave around 6 and possibly be back late. if you wanna stay after she falls asleep, you can sleep in my bed. i'll pay you anyways. she's a really chaotic kid so you might fall asleep right after she does." he laughs at the memory of his daughter being so energetic.

"you don't have to pay me, it's fine, really." you say, trying to reassure him. sure, you needed the money and would love to make some especially as a college student, but you didn't want him to feel obliged to.

"don't worry about it, bee. i know you need it, and it's the least i can do if i haven't fucked you yet after you've sucked me off multiple times." he says with a certain calmness and smirk. "don't think its not happening soon though, kid."

you nod, smiling and looking down at your palms, unsure of what to say. "i'll text you the address and everything she needs. i'm sure she'll like you." he reassures you. "you can go on your lunch soon and get off early, i don't need anything else done today. just finish whatever you were doing before and go on your break."

you nod again, looking up at him. he had a very calming demeanor today which helped a lot with your worries. "c'mere, kid." you stand up and walk to him and he turns his chair, facing you as he looks up and grabs your jaw and kisses you softly. "you're gonna be great, bee." he mutters against your lips and kisses you once again before patting your cheek and you pull away.

you couldn't deny the heat rushing to your face at the kind words, something you rarely see out of him. it's not like he's ever mean to you, he just usually as a more professional, non-smiling side around others, even you sometimes. you notice that demeanor polishing off him once the conversation directed towards his daughter.

you walked out of the office and finished sending a couple emails, and leaving for your break. you go to a cafe you and matt have visited a couple times and order your usual. you quickly texted him if he wanted something, to which he reacted a thumbs up to. it wasn't much, just a plain black coffee and blueberry scone. you got everything and sat down near the window, watching the buzzling city just outside.

you got back to the office and clocked in, and knocked on his door once again and walked in, delivering his coffee and scone, to which he kissed you again and said thank you.

you got back to work, not having too much to do and clocked out once again about an hour later and head back home.

the next day, you walk into the office and knock on matt's door, just like usual. he lets you come in, and he looks up. "good morning, bee." you smile softly at him as you walk up to him, rubbing his shoulders from behind his chair and kiss his cheek.

"morning. so, i checked my plans and i'm free tonight for amelia. so, do you want me to come in around 5:30?" he nods, "yeah, 5:30's fine. it gives me time to show you where everything is and for you girls to get to know each other a bit before i leave. i'm telling you, i think she'll like you especially because you're younger than everyone else around her, besides her friends. me and my brothers are 28 and the other 35. her mom's 27 too."

"i'm not that young, matt. i'm only 22." you roll your eyes. he always loves getting a tease of you being younger than everyone at the company, despite also being one of the smartest there. "i know baby, 'm jus' teasin'," he says as he kisses you softly, smiling against your lips. "i'll text you everything when i'm done with all this and then you can just head out again whenever you're done and get ready."

with a final couple words, you leave and begin working on whatever needed to be done. you clocked out about a couple hours after that, not even taking your break so you wouldn't be missing too much.

you went home and got a text from matt which just gave the basics. his address, the time, and stating how you can bring pretty much whatever you would like to keep you busy when amelia and you weren't too busy.

you got ready into some basic clothes, something matt hasn't ever seen you in. you drive to his house and notice how big and extravagant his house is compared to your small apartment. you knock a couple times, waiting for the man to open the door, but instead was met by a little girl, no more than 3 feet with brown curly hair and big blue eyes just like matt.

"hi! you're bee, right? daddy said you were watching me tonight!" she says, smiling up at you with her big, pearly white teeth. you nod, already overwhelmed by how cute she is and she looks almost identical to matt.

"hi, yes i am. you must be amelia, right? such a pretty name for such a pretty girl." she nods and giggles as she opens the door wider for you. you walk in, and step out of your shoes and see matt appear from around the corner. he was wearing his familiar glasses he usually wore, but he was wearing a white long sleeve and a pair of black sweatpants and smiled softly at you.

"hey, bee." you smiled back at him and close the door as amelia rushes back to the couch. you walk up to him as he kisses your forehead sweetly. "c'mon. i'll give you a tour before i go." he takes your bag and sets it down on the couch and gives you a small tour of the house. he shows you where amelia's room is, where all the snacks are, where his room is and all the other basic stuff.

once it was time for him to go, he brought you both back to the living room to say bye to amelia. "lia, c'mere." he says as he stands next to the couch, grabbing his bag and adjusting his clothes. she plops off the couch and runs to him, gripping onto his leg as he lifts her up and kisses her cheek. "i'll be back late, tonight, okay? be nice to bee, and don't break anything. same rules when your uncles stay with you, okay? be good." he kisses her forehead once again and she nods as he sets her on the ground.

he looks to you, and kisses your forehead while holding your hip tightly as amelia runs back to the couch, not wanting to miss a moment of her precious bluey. "jus' give her food at around 8:30. there's some leftover food from last night, but if you don't want it, you can order food to the house or make some, whatever you prefer. she usually lets me know whenever she's tired so just let her eat and watch tv and she'll probably be passed out after. if you stay the night, let me know."

you nod at everything he says, and he says his goodbyes and walks out. you plop down on the couch next to amelia as she starts ranting about whatever her 6 year old self has to say. you listen intently, even if some of the things she says doesn't make sense.

once she relaxes a bit, you ask if she wants some food, and get up and warm up some of the leftover food they had. you made some for yourself, and brought over a couple snacks for the two of you and watched some more bluey.

you finally notice her getting a bit more tired, so you bring the now empty plates to the sink, and make a mental note to wash them after she falls asleep. "bee.. im tired." she mutters as she rubs her eyes. "let's get you in bed, baby." you say softly as you pick her up and carry her to her room. you don't turn on the big light for the sake of yours and her's eyes, so you walk over to her bedside light and turn it on, the soft, warm light radiating throughout the room.

you set her down on her soft bed, as she rubs her eyes again. "where are your pajamas, sweet girl? which drawer?" she opens her eyes faintly and points to the middle one of her 3 tier pink and red dresser. you walk over and grab out a soft, light blue matching set which had a mermaid on it.

"do y'like this one?" you hold it up for her to see and she opens her eyes again and nods. you walk back over and help her get changed. you toss her worn clothes into her hamper. you turn her around so her back is facing you, and grab her brush that was on her bedside. you take out her well-done braids and brush her soft brown hair while humming a soft melody.

she practically falls asleep at this and when you're done, you help tuck her into her bed. she laid on her stomach, so you sat in a criss cross position and scratched her back and head softly so she could go to sleep while still humming the same melody.

once you heard her soft snores, you rubbed her back a couple times more to soothe the scratches, and stood up and turned off her light. you closed the door quietly and made your way to the kitchen and began washing the dishes.

you obviously knew you didn't have to, but it felt the best to do. once you were finished and put the dishes in the washer, and tidied around the house a bit, you washed your hands and made your way to your bag. you planned on staying the night as you didn't feel very comfortable leaving amelia all on her own, so you brought some extra clothes. you made your way to matt's bathroom and washed your face and got changed.

you noticed a couple tampon boxes next to the toilet which were half full, but brushed away the weird feeling you got, as it's probably matt's ex girlfriend's. you knew it wasn't right to feel jealous over some guy, who was more importantly your boss, whom you sucked him off a couple times.

you finished getting ready and made your way to matt's room. it was dimly lit with an identical light to amelia's. you set your bag down on his desk, and noticed how clean his room was. the faint smell of his cologne lingered around and filled your nostrils as you took a few, calm breaths.

you made your way to his bed, and pulled out your phone to let him know everything.

"hey, i hope you're having a good night. just to let u know, im staying the night if that's alright. i fed lia and put her to sleep, she was an angel all night. i ate some of the food i warmed up for her also. i washed the dishes btw, it was no biggie. im prob heading to sleep soon."

you typed out while you set your phone to the side as you turned on his tv to watch something before you sleep. about 10 minutes into watching, you heard a text emit from your phone.

"Hey, everything's great, thank you. You're more than welcome to stay, don't worry. I'm glad she was good, and I'm glad the both of you ate. Bee, you know you didn't have to wash them, but thank you. I'll honestly probably be home soon, maybe in like an hour. I'll see you."

you heart his message before turning off the tv and calling it a night. you knew you would probably wake up when matt gets home. deep into your sleep, you couldn't hear the soft opening and closing of the front door. matt had walked in with such quietness, you would need to be right next to him to hear it.

he set his stuff on the table, and noticed how much cleaner the house was than before he left and cursed himself for allowing you to do that. on the way home, he just couldn't take his mind off you. he remembered the conversation you guys had the day before and how he noticed your shyness towards him when he mentioned how the two of you never had sex.

of course he wanted to, but he felt like he wouldn't be good enough for you since he hadn't fucked a girl in 2 years. but he decided to truly go ahead with his words and give you the pleasure he and you both realized you should be getting in whatever the two of you were, even if it wasn't a relationship.

once he dropped his stuff down, he made his way up the stairs and walked into amelia's room to check on her. he opened her door and noticed how her clothes were changed and how again, the room looks tidier.

he closed the door and made his way into the bathroom to get ready for bed. he noticed the lingering smell of your perfume and couldn't tear his thoughts away from you, and neither could his growing hardness. he scoffed at himself and finished getting ready.

once he was done, he quietly entered his room, and noticed you sleeping peacefully. he got into bed and rubbed your back. "bee, it's me." you hummed and rubbed your eyes, looking at him. "oh hey. how was your night?" you say, your voice scratchy. he laughs softly at this as he brushes a few hairs out of your face.

"it was good, baby. i couldn't tear my thoughts away from you though, the whole night." he says smirking. "oh yeah?" you say with a newfound confidence. "what were you thinking about?" you say as you turn onto your elbow, looking up at him.

he tsks teasingly. "mm. too dirty to say. maybe i should show it instead?" he says, rubbing your cheek. "matt, amelia's right next door." he shrugs. "so? we'll be quiet." you sigh, a smirk forming on your lips. you start putting your hair up, thinking it was going to be the usual blowjob, but his hand stops you. "no, no. i would love that, trust me. but, i wanna fuck you instead, if thats okay."

your eyes widen at this. "w-wait. are you sure? we don't have to. i mean of course it's okay, and i would love it but-" "yes, bee. i feel like i should be the one worrying about all this." he laughs.

"are you a virgin?" he continues and you shake your head no. he nods and kisses you softly. as time goes, and breaths get heavier, most of the two of yours clothes have been discarded onto the ground, leaving you in your bra and panties, and him in his boxers.

he's painfully hard right right now and you straddling him with your wetness isn't making it easier for him. you're grinding yourself on him as you both kiss each other deeply, your tongues intertwining."mmph- bee, stop. needa fuck you." he says, muffled as he can't tear his lips away. he reaches around, undoing your bra and pulling his lips away so he can see your tits pool down.

his eyes fill with lust as he latches his mouth around your tit, making you moan softly. he reaches his hand down, rubbing your clothed clit, eliciting another moan from you. he pushes aside your panties and slips his fingers inside you. you let out a high-pitched squeal and bury your head into his shoulder.

his fingers slip in and out of you effortlessly as he finally pulls his mouth away from your right tit and moves to your left, sucking and licking on it. as you get close to your release, he goes faster and pulls his mouth off your chest. "go 'head, baby. cum all over my fingers." with a final muffled moan into his chest, your juice gets all over his fingers as he slows his movements, riding out your high as he pulls them out, and brings them to his mouth and licks them clean and groans.

"fuck, you taste amazing." you look up at him with a flushed face, mascara already dripping down your face. his cock was painfully hard and twitching even inside his boxers, waiting for release. you moved your hand down and latched your fingers into his waistband and pulled it down, letting his long length hit his stomach.

he groans softly as you lift yourself on top of him, wasting no time to sink down. the both of you moan deeply as you lower yourself, inch by inch, until you sit fully on top of him. his fingers are gripping into your hips so hard, you're sure it'll leave marks.

"take your time, baby. get adjusted." he says through a groan. as much as he would love to fuck you reckless right now, he knows you need a bit to adjust, and the two of you need to be quiet for dear amelia right next door.

you nod and start moving up and down him slowly, your fingers gripping into his shoulders for stability. he helps you move and watches the way your pussy swallows him completely like he was made for you.

your movements grow faster and your moans increase. the headboard hits the wall continuously so you slow your movements so it doesn't hit too hard.

he can tell your getting close again by the way you hold your breath and the way you dig your nails into his shoulders. he's close too, so he forgets about the cautious movements and halts your body and thrusts into you, the wall sure to have marks.

"matt!" you say, squealing again. "shut up, bee." he says, drilling into you. he didn't mean his mean words and you knew that, he was just so focused on the two of you getting your release.

"fuck- matt i'm cumming!" you say, clenching up as he nods, groaning and halting his movements, filling you with his release to the brim. once he was finished, he pulled you off him, letting you fall back into the bed carefully.

he had some tissues next to him so he leaned over and spread your thighs open, cleaning you carefully as you wince. "i know, i know. 'm sorry, baby." he throws them on the ground as he grabs some more and cleans himself up, and then drags his boxers back up.

he notices the distress in your face as your panties were now dirty, and he stands up and grabs a pair of his boxers and hands them to you. "y'can have tomorrow off, so you can rest by the way." he says as he lays back down.

"yeah, thanks boss." you laugh as you toss your shirt back on. he rolls his eyes and smirks as he grabs a waterbottle next to him and hands it to you. as you drink it, your movements are halted by a few gentle knocks on the door. "daddy?" a small voice is said from behind the door. you and matt look at each other as he tosses his shirt back on and cover the two of you with the blanket.

"yes, lia? you can come in baby." he says, rubbing his face. the door opens and a small figure walks in with her holding her stuffed bear and her hair going in every direction. "are you guys okay? i woke up from banging on the wall and i heard bee screaming." his face drops as he realizes he actually woke his daughter up. "yes, we're okay baby. 'm sorry we woke you up, c'mere." he gestures for her to get closer to the bed as her feet patter against the ground and reach the bed.

he kisses her forehead and rubs her head as he whispers reassuring words into her ears. he looks over at you for your response as her big eyes look over. "yes, lia. i promise i'm okay. im sorry we woke you up also." she smiles softly. "it's okay." matt gives her one last kiss on the forehead before she walks out and closes the door.

he huffs and falls back on the bed. "sorry i woke her up." you mutter softly and he looks over, his face softening. "don't worry about it. we both did, actually. and she falls asleep fast, i guarantee you she won't remember in the morning." you nod as you take a deep breath.

"y'alright though?" you nod again to his question. "jus' tired." he nods. "me too. let's get some sleep." he kisses your lips one last time before you rest your head on his chest and fall asleep.

this took WAY longer than it needed to. started writing at 8:30pm, it's currently 2:18am. so if this is horrible i apologize.

@muwapsturniolo @lovergirl4gracieabrams @m4ttg1rl @lypsiiii @tyummyz @sturniqlo @emely9274 @shadowthesim @mattsobvimyfav @sturnl0ve @wastelandzella @fallininlust @chrisslut04 @sophand4 @vainilladollie @slutforchrissturniolo2 @ncm9696 @snoopychris comment to be added or removed.

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #ceo!matt #assistant!reader #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader

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uracutieraka · 3 days ago

Text

When did you get so pretty

Pt. 1 // Pt. 2

Keigo x Younger!f!reader

SMUT!, yearning, dirty talk, needy!hawks

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

synopsis: You've missed Hawks the past few weeks. But you don't know if he's even missed you. Why has he been borderline ignoring you?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The night after the gala, Hawks had to leave early in the morning.

Hero work and what-not.

You weren't unfamiliar with him getting so busy you only see him in passing at the agency, but you were unfamiliar with these past few weeks behaviors.

Hawks had been distant.

Unable to hold eye contact with you, nor a conversation even.

Anytime you tried to talk to him it had seemed he would get a phone call and have to fly off somewhere.

You had grown bored of being alone in your apartment. At your life. Being single.

You had gotten a sweet, sweet taste of what it was like to be in love and now you just couldn't seem to feed your insatiable cravings for it.

You literally had the hawks begging for you.

What are you supposed to do with yourself after a high like that?

Go back to normal? Hell no.

On the other hand, Hawks was your boss, and close friend.

Maybe he regretted it?

He was drunk after all.

Maybe he changed his mind about not caring what people would think.

After all he had a reputation to uphold.

You had been in your room for hours, overthinking every interaction you'd had with him since that night.

A loud buzzing broke you from your thoughts.

You grab your phone off your desk and pick it up.

'Hey' a quick but simple word had your breath caught in your chest.

'Hey' you finally huffed out.

'Can you come to the office? I have some paperwork I need help with,'

you felt kind of disappointed with his mindless nature of the things he says.

'And, I hate to admit it, but I miss you.'

It was like a new life had been breathed into you.

'I missed you too Keigo.'

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

45 minutes go by and you find yourself entering the familiar work place, pushing the top button of the elevator you make your way to the floor with Keigo's office on it.

Finally the elevator stops, and you couldn't be more eager to get off it and go fill out paperwork.

And speak to him.

Pushing open the door youre welcomed by a warm light filling the room, recognizing it as his lamp your eyes scan across the papers strewn across the desktop.

He looks up at you, smiling a bit before he pushes himself out of his seat.

Moving about the room he retrieves the all too familiar seat youve spent more late nights in than youd ever admit to, helping him fill out paperwork, just chatting on your rare and few slow days of work, or waiting around for him until the early morning hours, just to make sure he came back alive and okay.

“Here,” he motions toward the seat. “Sit down. Get comfortable.”

And you do.

He retakes his seat and hands you a few papers. You naturally put your head down and get to work filling them out.

Time seems to slip away on nights like this.

Hours and hours of paperwork work go into running a successful hero agency, and you knew that.

It also meant hours and hours of time you got to spend with the man.

Finally you look up from the papers infront of you, trying to initiate any kind of conversation.

After a second Keigo looks up, locking eyes with you. He takes a breath in and pushes his pile of papers away from him.

He puts his elbows on the desk and dramatically drops his face into his palms, sighing loudly.

Looking up he finally speaks.

“Look, about that night,” he starts but you dont think youre ready to hear what words inevitably are going to leave his mouth, so you cut him off.

“Im sorry if i made you uncomfortable! Or ruined our friendship! I understand that you want to keep things casual!”

He looks at you in shock.

“W-what? I was going to say I really enjoyed it and wanted to know if you did too?”

You now look back at him, your eyes are so wide you look like a scared cat.

“Huh?” You grumble out, embarrassed at your lack of a filter a few seconds before.

“That night? Did you have fun?” He pops a sarcastic brow at you, giving you a devious smile. Now hes just doing this to be a brat.

You take a deep breath in, finally going to speak.

“Yes.,” You say, its quick and embarrassingly needy.

He hums as if hes looking to find the right words.

But before he can you speak again.

“But, why have you been avoiding me?”

Keigo clears his throat and readjusts in his seat, not expecting a serious question.

“I uh,” hes looking anywhere but you. “Ive had some things going on that im not allowed to talk about. And uh, a villian brought your name up so i had to stay away from you for a while but we got him.”

The way he admits to this secret is so shy and awkward. Like he was a small child admitting to eating the last cookie.

You stare at him blankly. Not expecting him to behave like he is.

Youre used to his goofy and weird side, not his shy and embarrassed one.

“Oh.” Is all you manage to say.

“Yeah. Im- look, im uh, really sorry for not saying anything, like not even giving you a hint or anything. I just couldnt risk this guy finding out, or finding you.”

You knew these things would come with being close to him, but normally since you two were so close, it was someone else that would be brought up in threatening manners by villians.

You two were side by side and had been for a few years, so normally villians just targeted both of you.

But now there was a new found since of, pride?

Like youre really so important to the Hawks that if a villian even mentioned you he would do anything he could to protect you, even if it meant hurting your feelings temporarily.

A sly smirk overtook your face and you gave him a familiar but challenging look.

“So, im really that important to you that villians use me as leverage? Ha! Thats a new one!” You swing your legs over the arms of the chair, putting yourself in a bridal position with the piece of furniture.

Hes silent for a moment, processing the sudden 180° in your behavior before giving you a similar look back.

“You are. Y’know, its honestly really annoying.,” he stands from his spot behind his desk and makes his way so hes behind your back. Your neck leans back to look up at him, and hes already looking down at you, hands on his hips.

“You know why its annoying?”

“Why?” Its a meek whisper almost.

He leans down, putting his rough hands on your shoulders for support.

“Because when I had to stay away from you for so long, all I could do was think about you.”

Hes now rubbing his thumbs in circles on the base of your neck.

“Whys that annoying?” You couldnt hide the bit of nervousness in your tone, scared maybe he really didnt like you.

“Because when all i can do is think about you, my mind starts to wonder…” hes running his hand lightly down your shoulder, than your arm, and tracing it back up again to start over.

“Wonder what?” You are now purposefully whispering.

He moves to be infront of the chair normally, grabbing your ankles and pushing them off the arm rest, signaling for you to sit normally.

You move and sit facing him.

He leans down be in front of you.

He’s so close you can see the faint scars you recognize from past fights. Now healed. Its almost symbolic.

The pain and hurt a person goes through can just fade away to seem like it almost never happened.

You find yourself lost in this train of thought, so much so, that you dont even realize youve lifted your hand to cup his cheek. Its almost as if it was a reflex, or maybe a way to prove this was actually happening, who knows.

He leans into your palm and lets out a small sigh, as if maybe hes doing the same as you, trying to figure out if all of this was really happening.

Its interesting, just a few years ago you were some total fan girl and now here you are, in his office in the late hours of the night, with him literally in the palm of your hand.

“Y’know,” he speaks up. “Before a few weeks ago i didnt even notice.”

“What?” Its as if he only said half a thought out loud, which is something he tends to do often.

“That I was actually in love with you.”

You move at the sudden admission of romance.

In love with, you?

Keigo ‘Hawks’ Takami just said hes in love with you.

“You- you- HUH?!” You move so now youre standing up hands waving around in the air.

“Is that not what this is?” Hes now standing as well, a look of hurt is on his face.

“No it is. It definitely is. Im just,” you breath in and now stand straight looking at him. “Im caught off guard is all.”

His face eases for a second before he changes to a quizzical one.

“Im confused.”

“Youre confused?” You ask.

“Yeah, because obviously youve been in love with me since however long because i saw the posters in your room, and we spend almost all our time together, like you even come into the bathroom with me when i shower, and yet i dont know why i didnt know sooner.”

Hes dead serious.

This man is just now figuring that out?

And hes a prohero?

Gods, help us all.

You deadpan at him now, throwing a hand on your hip sassily.

“It took seeing some old posters in my room from like 5 years ago to figure it out?”

Hes now giving you a shocked expression.

“Well its not like you said anything!”

“Out of respect for you! And anyways i should be the confused one! You spent 2, nearly 3 weeks, basically avoiding me, which i now know why, but then you call me to do paperwork and confess your love for me!”

“Well I’m just figuring it out since that night!”

Its an argument, but theres no ill-intent, you know that, he knows that, you guys do this often enough.

“What?”

He now looks embarrassed, a blush is on his face.

“I think that maybe i’ve felt like this for a while but I just didnt realize this is what i felt. Ever since i saw you all done up that night and relaxed, i guess it just clicked? I guess?,” he clears his throat. “Like that ive felt like this for a while.”

“Well ive known how i feel.” You feign arrogance, to lighten the mood.

He chuckles a bit, stepping towards you.

He closes the distance.

Pushing some of your hair behind your ear he whispers to you. “Yeah? And how exactly do you feel?”

You give him a small smile.

“Im definitely in love with you.”

A soft chuckle leaves his mouth, hes so close you can feel it on your skin.

“Good.”

He closes the distance, his lips meeting yours.

Its hungry and desperate.

You feel a primal like desire rising in your belly, reaching up your hands find their way to sit on each side of his face, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss.

A slight moan leaves his mouth at the sudden movement.

He backs up until you hit his desk.

He leans down grabbing the underside of your thighs, then hoists you up onto the tabletop.

He readjusts to stand between your legs, restinf his forehead on yours he breathes out a few words.

“All that thinking i did, fuck, i need you so bad y/n.”

Hes so desperate for you it makes you weak in the knees.

You chuckle slightly and pull his face back to lock lips with yours again.

After a moment you whisper in his ear.

“Not as badly as i need you keigo.”

He gives you a wide eyed look before you see something in him completely change.

It's as if something in him snapped, he grabbed your face pulling you back in once again, harsher and more hungry.

He pulls you to the edge of the desk, so you and him are flush against each other.

your arms are wrapped around his neck and his hands are on your thighs, he glides them up to rest on your hips.

He grinds against you, slowly, almost like he's making sure it's ok too do it.

You grind back on him, letting him know its ok to do so.

He begins, slow, honey like movements of his hips, and you do the same, matching his pace, rocking forward into him.

Your tongues clash in each others mouths, soft moans leaving the both of you.

You can feel him through his pants, and it's not like you really needed any more proof of how big he was, you had already gotten an idea a few weeks ago before your last heated make out session was interrupted.

He pulls away, breathing hard.

"Can... can I take your clothes off?"

It's shy and sheepish, surprising coming from the man who was so eager and bold just minutes ago.

"Please."

He licks his lips before moving to pull your shirt off.

He then unbuttons your pants, pushing them down to your knees, you make haste to step out of them fully.

Lastly he reaches behind you and unhooks your bra clasps, stepping back slightly he pushes the straps forward, letting the bra slide off your arms and onto the floor.

You're now only left in your underwear.

He looks down, then up, then down, almost like he's taking a mental picture, but it doesn't make you feel any less awkward. You bring your hands up to cover your chest.

He quickly pulls them off and shakes his head 'no'.

He grabs your hand and brings it to his belt clasp, you take this as a hint to undress him.

Doing so you unbuckle his belt, then undo his pants. pushing them down, keigo kicks them off to the side.

You then lift the bottom of his shirt, in a slight way to let him know you want him to be the on to take it off.

He does.

Now you're both In the same predicament you were in at your apartment.

Underwear was the only thing separating you from him.

He walks forward, quickly closing the gap again.

You guys are standing in his office almost completely naked, kissing, he's running his hands all over you, you're doing the same to him, grabbing his biceps and running your hands up and down them.

He lifts you up setting you onto the desk again.

He drops to his knees and pulls your underwear down until they're hanging off one of your ankles.

Pushing your legs apart, He groans burying his face into you.

His tongue circles your clit a few times before he finally locks onto you.

He's eating you out like a man who's been starving for years.

You're moaning and tugging his hair between your fingers, holding the loose strands out of his face.

After a few minutes of this he stops, standing back up he wipes his face.

Leaning down he kisses you again.

You move your hand forward and tug at his waistband on his boxers.

He pulls them off quickly.

You break the kiss to look down and finally see him fully.

It's big, like you predicted.

You reach out and touch it, wrapping your fingers around it, you look back up at him to make sure it's ok you're even doing this.

He kisses you.

You kiss back and begin pumping his length for a moment before scooting forward to the edge of the desk.

You run his tip up and down yourself for a minute, using the wetness as a lube.

You finally line him up to your entrance, rocking your hips forward it pushes in a bit.

He hisses and you moan a bit.

He moves to be closer to you, pushing himself in further and further until he's all the way in.

You both moan when he does.

He's still for a moments so you decide to speak.

"Keigo. Need you to do sum'thin' please." Its breathy and sounds so sweet and pretty coming from your mouth.

"Sorry pretty girl, j'st needed a second."

His voice is strained and gravelly.

He begins moving at a steady pace, not too slow nor too fast.

You throw your head back and moan softly.

Keigo can't believe his eyes.

You are the most gorgeous woman he's ever seen.

You looks so pretty under him too.

He feels like he's being baptized in your beauty.

a sultry and soft call of his name breaks him out of his trance like state.

"Keigo, f-faster."

He picks up the pace and wraps his hands around your thighs, pulling them up around his waist.

you lean back so you're propped up on your elbows.

"F-fuck! Feel s'good Kei."

"A-ah!"

Moans, and cries of the mans name fill up the room.

He stops for a moment, pulling you off the desk before he bends you over and pushes you back over the top of it.

Your feet are on the ground still, but now you're ass up for the man.

He moans loudly before speaking.

"God damn, you're so fucking sexy baby. Gonna make you mine."

You wimper pushing yourself back in a pathetic attempt to get him back inside you.

He takes the hint and pushes himself back in.

He reaches over, wrapping your hair around his hand, pulling back he forces you to arch in a 'c' like shape, your head is on his shoulder, while he's still in you.

He moves his hand to wrap around your throat.

He kisses your jaw as he begins moving his hips.

Slowly at first, but then his hand gets slightly tighter around your throat and he suddenly begins thrusting faster and faster.

you move to drop your hands on the desktop.

His arm extends with your movements, as his had that was on your throat now makes its way back into your hair, yet again. He's still thrusting in and out of you hard.

He continues the same pace for a moment before yet again pulling out of you.

He guides you towards the large window in his office. It overlooks the city down below.

"What- What are you doing."

"Gonna show everyone what's mine."

You go to speak again but before you can, he pushes back into you. Simultaneously pushing you against the window. He has your cheat pushed against the cold glass.

You know from this height nobody could actually see you without binoculars.

But the thrill of getting caught like this made it all the more alluring to you.

He is moving a a fast pace again.

Slapping and squelching is ringing in your ears.

He's moaning loudly, as his strokes are getting sloppier and sloppier.

"Im- Im gonna cum."

"D-do it.," you reach under you to touch yourself while he's pumping in and out of you. "M'gonna- cum too, fuck kei!"

"Good- good job baby, a-ah! Fuck cum- cum for me." he's breathless and his words are broken up through choked moans.

"M' summing!" you chant out.

He pulls out of you, pumping himself briefly before moaning your name loudly followed by a "Me too baby!"

He slowly stops pumping himself and his breathing gets heavier.

You stand up, on shaky legs and turn to face him.

Your eyes scan over the office, clothes are every where, papers scattered on the floor.

You look down, a huge stain on his carpet from the messes you two had just made.

You wrap your arms around your chest and move away from the window.

"So, uhm, this is a huge mess."

He now looks around the room.

"Yeah..."

"Well I guess we better get cleaned up!"

He stares at you blankly for a moment.

You speak up.

"Then maybe you'd want to come over? And stay the night at my place? Maybe we could shower?" A devious grin spreads on your face and you wiggle your eyebrows at him.

A similar grin fills his face too.

"I mean, if that's an invite, who am I to turn it down?"

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Omg y'all sorry it took me so long to do this second part!

taglist

@asteruuu

@ava-cjkk

@gotacoinslot

#x reader #mha #fanfic #mha x reader #hawks smuh #hawks smut #mha hawks #mha smut #bnha #my hero academia #my hero acedamia #boku no hero acedamia #mha fanart #mha liveblog #boku no hero academia

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glossykissies · 2 days ago

Note

no one can tell me scott's solution to an attitude problem isn't an orgasm!!! worst mood ever and he's already backing you against wtv surface and lulling you into it with his voice - 🍓

okay but this with babydaddy!scott.

your one free day, and you’ve had one million things to do — most of them going wrong in some way, costing you money or just plain stressing you out. it’s times like this you dwell on not being in a relationship with scott, living together. yes he works alot, but he’d still be able to help you out — and at this point you would have taken anything. oh well, you’d made that choice.

evening falls, and speak of the devil — the door bell is ringing.

scott stands alone at the door, looking casual if not tired himself — and revved up from the day, you don’t even give him a chance to speak.

“wheres the baby? scott where is my baby— i told you not to leave her in the car so she better not be—” you go to shove past him, body on high alert and he effortlessly grabs you by the shoulders, rolling his eyes as he walks you back inside.

“shes with my mom, remember? i mean i did literally tell you.” he’s sassy with his response, letting go of you to close the door behind him with his foot and rubbing a stressed hand over his face. you relax instantly — despite everything, scott’s mother was good. you could tell she’d been waiting for a baby to come around, a toss up between scott and his younger siblings all similar in age. she was alot gentler in nature — it was his father that scott was more alike. strict, business-minded, sarcastic.

“right…” you sigh, wiping your hands down your clothes. “so what do you want? why are you here?” it comes out snappier than intended yet again, and scott blinks. it wasn’t often he was thrown off guard, usually able to take whatever attitude you throw at him and double it — but this wasn’t like you. you were soft, sweet, polite. he takes the moment to eye you, stress in your body language, shoulders tense, clothes and hair a little disheveled. you were still beautiful, but you didn’t look like you were doing too good.

“asked me last week to fix that bathroom cabinet. i’m here now. ring any bells?” he shakes his head and you fiddle with your fingers, breathing all heavy. you didn’t even look like you heard what he just said, just blinking as he watches the cogs in your brain turn, mind in a million places.

“uh…” you’re distracted, trying to shake yourself out of it and he sighs.

“are you gonna tell me what’s wrong or do i have to pull it out of you?” he deadpans and you swallow, resolve crumbling a little as your posture shrinks.

“i’m fine. just tired. baby was up all n—”

“you’re stressed. you keep clenching up your fists, your jaws all tight, could probably crack a walnut between your ass cheeks right now. why didn’t you ask me to help?” he folds his arms, accusatory — brows raised and expectant. your fists only clench tighter and your knee wobbles like you want to stomp your foot petulantly.

“i don’t need it.” your voice cracks a little.

“you need a break.” he tells you off, louder than you, sternly and you pout, eyes on his shoes. “when was the last time you touched yourself?” his voice quietened once more, and he asks like it was a regular question — like he was asking when the last time you ate was.

“wh— scott?”

“tell me.”

“i dont — when i was pregnant? maybe? i don’t see how that’s —”

scott sets his bag down, before walking at you, gently backing you up until your ass hits the little table that held the lamp beside the couch. “so too long?” he shrugs, mouth turned downwards as he starts to work at tugging up the sundress you just tugged on this morning.

“scott!” you whine, and you try to sound defiant — but it’s the whinyness in your tone that tells him everything. that lilting, high pitched mewl that he missed hearing — telling him just how badly you needed to cum.

“dont wanna hear it. you know you could have just called. i would have fixed that attitude while the babies down for thirty.” he shakes his head, rubbing his fingers familiarly over your comfy, mesh, baby pink panties— arousal already beginning to smear through the gusset just from his stern-talking-to at the door. “yeah. there you go.” you clutch his biceps for support, table wobbling under your ass as you melt— a whimpery sigh deflating from your chest.

that big hand of his slots itself inside the material, rough finger tips working you over and pushing inside after spreading your arousal and you groan, your big, tall babydaddy practically holding all your weight without breaking a sweat as he presses his lips together in concentration, trying to find that spot. “mmph— scotty!” it slips out, the affectionate rendition of his name you’d always call him when you were together. his heart skips a little and cock chubs against his thigh.

“feeling better already, aren’t you? atta girl.”

#🍓 anon #s.m ♡#scott miller prompt #babydaddy!scott #twisters ✮

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precupid · 2 days ago

Text

like a fool ─── (eleven.)

HEESEUNG IS AWOKEN BY RAPID KNOCKING ON HIS DOOR.

The clock reads 8:14AM. There is no way his friends would knock on his door and there is no way his mother would be here. Which leads him to the only other possible conclusion: you.

He drags a hand through his hair and pushes himself off his bed, still half asleep as he walks towards his door. When it swings open, Heeseung is surprised by your appearance. You aren’t done up like always — instead, you’ve got skincare patches on your cheeks and your hair is tied up in a loose ponytail. Your pajamas are covered in Chiikawa characters and Heeseung can’t help but feel a little flustered. First thing in the morning and you’re making him this shy already? Since when was he the shy one?

“Good morning,” you greet. There’s a smile on your face, but you still can’t meet Heeseung’s eyes.

He looks at you anyways, smile on his own face mirroring yours as his mumbles your name, “Good morning. Did you wanna talk?”

“Yeah,” you reply. “I tried texting you, but you didn’t reply.”

“I’m usually not awake at this hour on Saturdays,” Heeseung chuckles. He opens his door wider, “Come in.”

You take small steps with Heeseung trailing behind you. Maybe it’s a little hot in his room, maybe he’s sweating because it’s getting hotter out due to climate change, or maybe he’s just nervous because it’s your first time in his bedroom. Nonetheless, he follows you to his bed, watching as you take a seat as if you’ve been here before.

Your eyes travel the expanse of his Toy Story rug and you bite your lip. “It’s my first time in here.”

Heeseung can only chuckle at you. “Yeah. It’s pretty much a loser’s room.”

He watches as you finally lift your head and let your eyes roam the walls that crowd around you. Posters of League characters, Toy Story merch, and photos of his loved ones litter his room. For some reason, Heeseung is scared you’ll point at his Hatsune Miku figure and laugh, but instead you point at her and mumble, “She’s so cute. Your room is so cute, Heeseung.”

The tips of his ears burn with embarrassment and there’s nothing he can do to hide the shyness evident on his face.

“Your room is so you.”

And if he couldn’t get any shyer, he does. It almost makes him wish his heart would stop racing.

“Thanks. What did you wanna talk about?”

You look at him, small smile still playing on your lips and eyes meeting his, “I was wondering if you wanted to go ice skating with me on Tuesday.”

Heeseung blanks. For what reason, he doesn’t understand, but five minutes probably passes before he even answers you. You’ve began to pick at your nails, and Heeseung pulls one of your cold hands into his as he answers you, “Yes. I would love to go ice skating with you on Tuesday.”

Shit. You’re literally just asking him to hang out. Why did he grab your hand? Why is he suddenly thinking of you like this?

Your eyes become brighter as you smile at Heeseung, “Really? I can’t wait!”

You pull yourself out of his grasp and run off into the apartment, and Heeseung can’t help but miss your cold hand and your pajama-clad self.

(ten.) / masterlist / (twelve.)

summary. who cares if you’re desperate? who cares if you’re pathetic? who cares if you’re a loser? pay them haters no mind, because your roommate, lee heeseung, is gonna fall for you one day! fortunately for you, that day may be sooner than later.

taglist. @heesexual74 @tynlvr @wildtigerlili @pshfan0812 @aewon @heelovesmeknot @nicoleparadas @celli-ohs @beijinkaoya @tkooooop @enhypenlovre @rairaiblog @hexnoia @sucrosxi @heeheesang @mariwasneverthere @mwahvvis @starry-eyed-bimbo @leehsngs

#happy new year!! new update :3c #enhypen au #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen smau #enhypen x reader #heeseung au #heeseung imagines #heeseung scenarios #heeseung smau #heeseung x reader #꒰ mari writes ꒱

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weirdgenetic-fuckup · 1 day ago

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okay this is the first time ever requesting anything EVER! But I love ur writing so I had to. I’m think a three way between the reader, James and Dave. But it’s like they’re fighting over who’s doing it right? And the reader is kinda innocent and has no experience. And they end up fucking her, taking turns like a competition bc they both in love w her? And, idk, maybe they met her bc she works for a catering business so they both know her? Idk if that makes sense lmaoo. Obviously only if ur comfy w it, but I beg!!!!

A/n: I will never not be mad that my computer glitched AFTER I FINISHED THIS and none of it saved so I had to start from scratch all over again 🥹 I WAS LITERALLY ADDING THE TAGS kill me 😩

Two days later and I’m still mad IT WAS PERFECT I genuinely think I peaked with that one 😫

Warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), slight breeding kink, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

“What-what do you want, Dave?” You asked, struggling to bite back moans as James curled his fingers at just the right angle.

Dave could picture you now, doing everything you could to get off on your fingers without him there to help you. “I was just checking in, see how you were doing in the new place.” He said, twirling the phone cord in his fingers. “Didn’t realize how needy you were, want me to come over?”

“What’s he saying?” James asked, barely pulling away from you, his hot breath fanning over your cunt. His fingers didn’t stop, still thrusting into your tight hole to prep you for him.

Dave heard James over the receiver, anger already boiling in him. “Who’s that?” He asked, struggling to hold back to venom in his voice. “Are you with someone?”

James took the phone from you and hung up on Dave, going back between your trembling thighs. "Don't think about him, just think about me." He said, flicking your clit with his tongue. "Let me show you what you've been missing with Dave."

You wanted to get him to stop, you knew you should've, but you couldn't. His tongue, his fingers, he felt so good. Your head fell back and you reached down to him, fingers lacing through his hair and pulling him closer.

You’d just moved to L.A. not long after your tour with Metallica. They weren’t the first band you’d gone with for catering and such, organizing dinners whatever. First you went out with Megadeth where you met their lead singer, Dave Mustaine.

He seemed to have a thing for you, you didn’t catch on right away but he didn’t make an attempt to hide it.

Dave was great and helped you move into your apartment, it wasn’t far from his place which was why you gave him a key. Now you were regretting that decision.

Your moans filled the room, echoing off the walls. Still, you heard the keys jingling in the door, followed by Dave storming over.

He stormed into the room, swinging it open and stopping dead in his tracks at the sight. James between your legs with a firm hold on your hips as he thrust in and out of you at a brutal pace.

“What the fuck.” Dave hissed, pulling his shirt off over his head and making his way over to you. By the time he got to the bed he was just as naked as you and James.

Dave reached over for your head, turning you to him as he stroked his semi hard dick. He lined himself up with your bruised lips but James pushed him away before he could really do anything.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He demanded, unable to take most of his attention off of you wrapped around him. "She-she's never done this before, Dave, you can't just-just choke her."

Dave stared at James who was abusing your hole right now with his thrusts that lacked any rhythm. He was so close, he tried to push it off but he couldn't help the high that he was so close to.

Dave rolled his eyes and looked back to you, he knew, as much as he didn't want to, that his former bandmate was right. Your lips parted, moans left you, but you could barely handle this, let alone any more.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipped under his weight. Dave brushed your hair out of your face and cupped your cheek in his hand so you could look at him. He smiled down at you so warmly it distracted you for a moment from James brutal thrusts. "You're doing so good, darling." He purred. "You look so pretty like this."

"So fucking breedable." James grunted, his hand pressing down on your stomach where a bulge had formed from him. A soft gasp left you, Dave's eyes shot up to James, glaring daggers into him.

With a few more thrusts James came, painting your walls with his cum. He pulled out of you, letting his cum drip down your ass as he laid down beside you.

James wrapped an arm around you and pulled you to his side, letting you rest your head on his arm.

Dave scoffed. "Couldn't even make her cum."

James shot him a look. "I made her cum."

"Not with your dick, you didn't." James rolled his eyes at Dave's words. "You fuck like a bitch in heat."

"At least I fucked her." Dave had to stop himself from punching the blond.

He moved to kneel between your legs, looking over you a moment and running his hands along your sides with a featherlight touch. "Not good enough, obviously." He muttered. He leaned down, kissing your cheek and jaw, nipping at your earlobe. “Sweet thing needs it soft and slow.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt Dave’s cock push between your wet folds, bumping your clit. Dave let out a low groan as he pushed into you, feeling your walls around him squeezing so deliciously.

Dave paused to let you adjust even though there wasn’t much difference between him and James, as much as he hated to admit it.

Dave started rolling his hips, watching your reactions closely until his dick was angled just right inside you. You squeaked, eyes shutting tight.

Your legs wrapped around him, pulling him impossibly closer to you. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” Dave asked, giving your hip a gentle squeeze. “You look so pretty like this, taking me so good.” He cooed, smiling warmly down at you.

Not wanting to lay there uselessly James traced shapes on your stomach, hand moving lower until his rough, calloused fingers found your clit, rubbing it in pace with Dave’s thrusts.

His attention was on you the whole time, James hated that he wasn’t the one making you feel this good. He hated that it was Dave, of all people it had to be Dave. He made you cum on his fingers and he’d be damned if he couldn’t do it again.

Dave kept his rhythm, rubbing your thighs and sides, trying to ignore James’s fingers bumping his groin every few thrusts.

Your mind was a muddled mess, eyes fluttering in pleasure. You couldn’t focus on anything but the way they were making you feel, the way the veins on Dave’s dick dragged on your gummy walls, the bulge that came with him fucking you so deep. James’s fingers rubbing you smoothly, jolts of electricity shooting through you.

“That’s it, darling, just relax.” Dave purred, letting you come undone from every little sensation. You head fell back, back arching off the mattress as you came on Dave, walls fluttering around him and he followed suit not long after, filling you to the brim with his seed.

A low groan left him, his hips jerking a last time before he pulled out and laid down on the other side of you.

You shifted closer to James, the two mens cum mixed together with your own juices as they spilled out of you.

“Are you kidding me?” Dave demanded. “After that, you go to him?”

“Dave.” James said, rubbing your side and squeezing your waist. “Look at her.” He rolled you onto your back, letting Dave see the glazed over look in your eyes, your lips parted slightly with heavy breaths.

Dave couldn’t exactly be that mad at you now, not when you were so out of it. “Fucked dumb, huh?” He cooed, kissing your temple. “Just sleep now… I’ll kick James out later.”

The blond rolled his eyes and pulled you closer to him, taking you for himself while he could.

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peachhcs · 1 day ago

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Samy does the trend where she wipes off the kisses that will gives her

i love that trend it's always so funny. samy's never wiped will's kisses off before so when she does it he's very shocked and immediately thinks he did something wrong. surprisingly someone else JUST about this so i’ll post it now :)) i wrote up so many of my requests last night to clear out my inbox but this was super fun!!

au masterlist

samy set her phone up while will was in the bathroom finishing getting ready. she saw the trend after scrolling through her for you page all morning and of course, she had to join in. pranking will was literally her favorite activity and it was payback for him spitting all of his water into her face the last time they made a tiktok together.

she pretended to be doing something on her computer while she hid her phone behind one of the potted plants on the counter. the bathroom door opened a few minutes later and samy could hear will's footsteps.

"hey, i'm gonna leave now. are you gonna be all good by yourself for a few hours?" will asked as he came up to her chair.

samy nodded, "yeah i'm gonna be fine."

"i'll be back at like 3 probably," the blonde leaned down to press a soft kiss to her cheek. samy immediately wiped her cheek when he removed his lips and will quickly made a face.

"what?" he grew confused.

"what?" samy played dumb.

"you just wiped off my kiss," will pointed out.

"i didn't," samy gaslit him and the blonde swore she did.

he decided to kiss her again this time on the lips. samy copied her exact movements from before and will definitely wasn't seeing things this time.

"does my breath smell bad or something? i brushed my teeth," the hockey player didn't know why she was wiping his kisses off.

"it smells fine," samy hummed and will stood above her staring at her confused.

he began wracking his brain of something he might've done wrong in the last few days, but when he couldn't think of anything, will was even more confused than before.

"are you mad at me or something?" he asked.

"no, why would i be mad at you?" samy finally caught his gaze and she had to stop herself from laughing when she saw her boyfriend's pout.

"because you're wiping off my kisses. did i do something wrong?" it was so hard keeping the bit up when he looked at her like that.

"no, you didn't. i'm just doing school work," samy said and that didn't answer any of will's confusion.

"you've never wiped my kisses off before?" the blonde pouted even more and samy couldn't keep it up. she bursted out laughing and poor will just stood beside her in confusion.

"it's a prank, baby, i promise. i love you," samy grabbed her phone and showed him the camera that was recording. the hockey player quickly rolled his eyes and gently shoved her.

"you're so mean to me," he mumbled as he went to grab a water from the fridge.

"i'm sorry, baby. it's payback from you spitting water in my face a few weeks ago," samy half joked.

"whatever. it was funny. that wasn't funny. i thought i did something wrong," will complained and samy got up to bring him into a hug.

"i'm sorry, you didn't. i love you. have fun," she kissed his lips to make up for the prank. will kissed her back, glad she didn't wipe her lips off after this time.

"i love you too. i'll see you later," he pecked her cheek and then finally left to go hang out with some of his teammates. he just knew he was about to get roasted in those comments whenever samy posted the video.

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yunazxxx · 2 days ago

Note

gp daniela x manon 🙏⁉️

pairing ≫ meret manon x daniela avanzini

content warnings ≫ best friends to lovers trope , g!p daniela , unprotected sex , slight getting caught , manon has a situationship but hes hella irrelevant.. , drug usage (marijuana) ,, etc maybe??

word count ≫ 2.7k

author talks ≫ happy new years my lovessss !!! i would love to start off this year strong with this danon fic which i hope you all + my lovely anon here who requested it, will enjoy it. and yeah, enjoy the read !! — ps not very proofread so ntm.. — this has hella fillers that probably arent relevant but i dont care…

—

"he still hasn't responded" the brunette repeated for the sixth time within the last three hours, she was over at daniela's place for the month as they usually would just come live with one another. there were no issues with manon's current living situation, she just wanted to go over dani's for a while.

daniela sighed while she was tying her hair up, "put the phone down girl" and manon looked up at her, "come on, then he'll text once that happens" and daniela just looked at the brunette, "come onnn, at least have some fun."

and manon shut off her phone, putting her hands up, "phone's off" and daniela took her hand, "you won't be needing it today" and she slid the older's phone in her purse. she walked with her out of the room, leaving out to the garage to her car.

daniela had plans set with her friend, they actually had been together for a while but they failed to execute because of manon's boyfriend, or more so situationship/boytoy. daniela really had a distaste for him, he was, really fucking weird.. daniela couldn't figure out why though.

the more time daniela spent with manon and this guy, she began to think that maybe he wasn’t the only problem. this dawned on her when she would see them kiss or be affectionate towards each other, it made her sick to the stomach.

sometimes when she would be drunk at a club, or bar, with manon and the guy she’d be all over manon kissing her, and even when manon would be the one to initiate the kiss, daniela would pull the doler by her waist and grab at her.

it was then and there daniela realized she had feelings for her, but obviously she’d just have to play it off, never knowing how to exactly say it to the brunette.

after daniela started her car, she began blasting a random playlist she had been on for a while, a song coming on called “better than the boys” which she just let it play and acted like it wasn’t there for a obvious reason.

while the pair drove along the highway, daniela was speeding, literally fast enough that it could get her a ticket or in a accident but almost no one was out right now because it was business hours. the pair were making thier wway to this meet up thing that they were invited to an outing with their friend group.

while daniela drove down the empty roads, the windows were down while they blasted music. manon practically hung out the window while they sung along to this song, but as they reached their destination, she went back in.

daniela parked her car and manon got out, daniela sat inside and turned off the car, turning around and seeing her friend making funny faces in the car window. daniela laughed while she opened the door and got out, her and manon walked to the building together.

they walked inside and were imidiately met with their friends hugging them, it had been months since they last met up so finally having this time to just, have a breather out meant the world to them. they were at the mall, pretty much just shopping at random stores and joking with one another, as they usually do.

they went into a jewlery store, since they made customs and daniela and manon wanted to get somethng for one another. the group split into twos, daniela had a few of their friends with her while manon did too.

everyone had their own little job, but soon the girls got distracted and kind of forgot what they were supposed to be doing but daniela and manon were able to make the jewlery they knew the other would like, or more so love.

manon had purchased daniela a necklace with both of their initals and a heart between them, and even had a handwritten note for the blonde, while daniela also made manon a necklace with a special charm and had got her some extra things.

it was a new years tradition for their friend group, it worked like secret santa really, they'd be given paper inside of a box or bowl, even a hat with their names on it, and kinda similar to last year, they got each other.

after the mall trip, they headed to the second oldest in their friend groups house, sophia's. they all gathered in the living room and revealed who they had, they had the most random order, going from first letter in their last names.

daniela walked over to manon, giving her the bag and turning to go sit back in her seat, but manon pulled her shirt and handed her the bag, and winked at her. daniela went to sit, yoonchae stood up giving lara a heavy, ass box, which lara almost dropped.

"what the heck is in here?" lara asked, "oh my god" you could hear someone exclaimed, yoonchae giggled going back to her seat, sophia walked over to megan giving her another heavy ass box — which the ginger just laughed at but setting it on her lap.

lara put the box beside her, standing up and giving three different little boxes to sophia, confusing the black haired woman, and finally megan handed yoonchae a small, box? which she just kept smiling reallly big about.

daniela opened her bag first, seeing the necklace and screaming out of joy, running over to hug the brunette while also prompting her to open hers but manon shook her head, "there's more in yours" and daniela opened it more, and saw the paper, and read it almost tearing up, she looked at manon, "i'm gonna get you later"

making the group burst into laughter, "lets hurry it up we got stuff to do after thiss!!!" sophia yelled, and so all the girls opened their gifts, but yoonchae because megan told her to wait, that very heavy ass box that lara got from yoonchae not only had legos but also other things she wanted and had been talking about for months.

the other gifts were pretty much the same for the other girls, the tiny box yoonchae had still confused her, even asking megan "what could fit in here?" and when she opened it, it was a pair of keys which she just looked at megan, and they went outside together and thats when you could hear yoonchae scream.

the younger girl ran inside of the house, she looked so energetic. megan came back in, laughing her heart out but the two girls soon explained why she was reacting like that, it was pretty much after this were all the girls had a random energy burst and they were all playing around and just enjoying quality time.

daniela and manon broke off from the other girls, going upstairs together because they needed to "refresh" themselves, which was really just code for they needed to smoke. they were inside of sophia's room, and cracked a window, daniela pulled something from her jacket pocket, a blunt, handing it to manon.

since the brunette was sitting closest to the window, she took the first pull of it, daniela just watching her in awe. "why are you looking at me like that?" the brunette asked, "ah, um.. nothing" daniela softly whispered when manon passed her the blunt.

daniela took her pull, but moved closer to manon, grabbing her face and blowing the smoke in her mouth, after doing this daniela pulled her into a kiss, which manon responded to. but this kiss wasn't a small peck, or just a few seconds, the kiss grew deeper overtime and so did the need for each other.

manon broke off the kiss, looking into daniela's hooded eyes, and sheeh chuckeled, "that was crazy" she said before taliking another pull of the blunt, daniela licked her lips, looking at manon. "could we do something more, fun?" manon looked at the blonde, taking another pull of it before putting it out, "what's on your mind?"

daniela smiled before taking manon's hand and tackling her to the bed, she held the older's wrist together, using one of her hands while the other cupped manon's cheek while she kissed her, daniela's knee resting between manon's leg.

daniela's kisses quikly made manon feel enchated, like she was stuck under a spell by her friend. manon whined into the kiss, causing daniela to break it, "ah ah ah, stay quiet" and she kissed down the older's neck.

she left hickeys, even a special heart one where daniela loves to kiss her sometimes. the older woman tried moving her hands but failed, her body reacting to daniela's movements almost like she was perfectly made for daniela's touch.

manon whimpered and whined, almost getting loud enough that could bring someone to the room, which happened. a knock came at the door, since it was locked, "manon? are you okay?" you could hear sophia asking, and daniela didn't stop so manon could reply, she instead kept moving down.

she slowly removed pieces of manon's clothing, "a- yeah, i'm good soph" manon was able to get out before quietly moaning daniea's name, you could slight uncertainty in the black haired woman's voice when she replied, "okay .... uh is dani in there?"

daniela, again didn't reply nor stop, she made her way back up to manon's exposed chest, that's only covered by her bra, and she started back kissing, mumbling against her soft brown skin, "you're so perfect" she trailed her free hand up manon's thigh, caressing her.

"f-fu-ck, y-yeah, she's in here" manon got out between choked moans, "can i come in and grab my phone?" sophia asked and daniela got up, throwing her own hoodie on to hide her already messy hair, grabbing the filipino woman's phone and bringing it to her.

daniela opened the door sightly, only enough space so she could snake her arm out and give her the phone, sophia looked at daniela's eyes and noticed the redness while also smelling the marijuana.

"did you two smoke in my room?? oh my god" sophia asked while looking at daniela, "only a little! don't worry, we got the windo open and we'll spray it so it can go away" and sophia nodded, "come down soon, we'll be at the movies, just text when you're ready."

"mhm, byebye now" daniela said, shutting and locking the door, she turned around and saw manon's was squeezing her thighs together, biting her lip while her beautiful eyes were looking at her, you could hear a low "please" come from the brunette.

daniela walked over to her, “we have an hour at most so i'm gonna play with you a bit" daniela said while she pulled manon's panties down, she kissed her inner thighs while slowly inching closer to her aching heat.

"need you so bad" manon mumbled, "what was that?" daniela asked, she heard her the first time, she just wanted her louder. "i-i.." manon could barely get out feelin daniela's finger sliding deeper inside of her.

"uh huh?" daniela looked her inside of her brown eyes, watching them grow with need. daniela curled her fingers, pushing them in and out at a slow pace, manon's hips bucked, which made daniela chuckle, "so needy, aren't you" manon just nodded, making daniela stop.

"you were asked a question baby" daniela kissed her clit, before gently sucking on it, "w-wait.. dani" manon said, but daniela continued, pushing her fingers deep inside the brunette, "fuck fuck fuck fuck" manon moaned out, dani only sped up, loving how manon sounded.

daniela continued this same process until manon came, the brunette's thghs claming shut around daniela's face, the blonde forced them back opened and continued eating manon out, making the older grab at her hair.

daniela sighed against manon's clit, making the older shiver, and daniela finally broke off. she finally payed attention to the erection of hers, but manon had already pushed her on the bed, getting down to her knees.

she fondled with he drawstring for a bit, before just reaching her hands in and pulling daniela's dick from her boxers, watching the way her eyes filled with excitement, all the lust very evident.

she slowly stroked th blonde's cock, she glided her hand along the full length, stopping at her tip each time to caress it. soon she leaned down, staring slow, she took her tip in her mouth, with slow licks and small sucks soon turned to her taking more of her cock in her mouth, fully swallowing around dani.

she only broke off for some air, an adorable line of spit connected daniela's pink tip to her lips. she was only off for a few seconds, before trying to deep throat her again, the brunette drooling all over her cock, she held her head down, allowing her groans to finally spill out.

she let daniela use her throat, and while she thrusted into manon's mouth she could feel her tongue sliding along her entire length. she started to moan around it, bringing much more vibrations and pushing dani closer to her orgasm.

she sped her hips up, the girl held her mouth open, allowing daniela to have free access. soon she came down her throat, groans and small whimpers spilling from her.

daniela pulled out, wiping the access cum that dripped down her lips. she picked manon up, and put her back under, this time slowly slipping herself inside of the brunette.

she started off slow, easing her cock inside of her cunt, the girl felt like she was being torn in half. "tell me when to stop" the blonde gritted out, it was hard to penetrate the girl without the fear of hurting her by accident.

soon she tapped her, saying it was too much so she stopped, she was only an inch from being completely inside of the girl. she lifted her thighs, the bulge of her dick being seen through the older’s abdomen.

she couldn't help but find it adorable, and soon she began to thrust slowly, dragging her cock out of her just to slowly push it back in, this rhythm drove the girl insane, she wanted more but fuck she was so full. she was stretching her out so well but she was also able to reach her cervix, the girl completely lost it.

her once low moans turned louder, they filled the room, the lewd words that would spill from her throat all bounced off the four walls. daniela soon grew tired of this, slow ass pace.

so she forced manon’s thighs open again, and she fucked into the girl at an insanely fast pace. she held her hips as she pistoned into her, her walls clenched around her m way tighter than she'd expected, her orgasm catching up to her faster than she thought too. manon would bucked her hips each time daniela’s hips would meet hers.

soon her thrusts became sloppier, her moans picked up, while daniela’s did also, soon they came together. she continued to slowly thrust inside of the older, dragging the orgasm out much more, her load painting the girl's womb white with her seed, and she soon pulled out, her load leaking down onto the bed sheets.

daniela stood up, going to get something to clean manon up, but once her hair touched her back she could feel a sting, checking in the mirror and seeing that manon had scratched her back, it wasn't like she cared, she found it cute.

soon she returned with the warm towel and cleaned manon up and kissed her, she gently slipped manon back into her clothes and held her hand while they walked downstair only to see lara and sophia standing their with their mouths wide open.

"in my ROOM????" sophia yelled at them and went off on them about how they could've picked ANY other vacant room in her house but they chose her room, lara didn't even know how to react, just there frozen.

#kpop #girl group smut #kpop smut #r talks #katseye #spotify #katseye imagines #manon katseye #manon bannerman #meret manon #daniela katseye #daniela avanzini #daniela

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inu1gf · 18 hours ago

Text

you won’t be able to take your eyes off me

characters: gen narumi & soshiro hoshina (separately)

sypnosis: combination of two songs (miniskirt by aoa and give it to me by sistar)

a/n: my first fic so any constructive feedback would be much appreciated!! sorry if they seem a bit too ooc i tired staying in character as much as i could without going too flowery and corny >_< hope you like it and if you have any requests, send them in! and ty to soshiros bbygirl for beta reading;*

never did you think you could capture his attention, the difference not only in rank but raw power they held compared to you should’ve deterred you away but when the attention was reciprocated, you didn’t want it to end. dancing around each other, tiptoeing around the line not knowing if you should push the boundary, to see where this could lead.

as time goes along and seeing no change in this dancing routine that was set between you two, it started to weigh on your heart. does he just want to someone to occupy his time with? is he just doing it to mess with you? to waste your time? to have fun and see what he could do without crossing the clear line between you two. you can’t have that. that would just mean what you thought was a genuine connection, he thought it was a game. you weren’t just gonna stand by, wait for him to come back, and have the cycle repeat again.

out of sight. out of mind.

now what was just a slight peek between the curtains between the two of you, were just closed and locked windows. he wasn’t gonna be able to see that side of you no more. not a moment longer were you going to think of him anymore.

it took a while and you had to show that you were no longer occupied, you finally landed a date. you honestly didn’t think of it as anything serious. just a a little toe dip into the dating pool once again. even though you were ready for a new thing, you literally just got out of a one sided situationship so diving in head first on the first date wasn’t really a smart idea.

going through the process of aligning schedules, making plans, and deciding on the time, and with a little bit of help with outfit planning and a bit of confidence boosting, you were ready for a night out. now you just had to report to your higher ranking officer to give additional notice that you were spending your off day off base.

even if you weren’t on duty or in uniform, it felt a bit weird to not straighten out your clothes and posture before needing to make your presence known.

knock knock knock

“state your name.”

“it’s officer (y/n) reporting.”

“come on in.”

when you opened the door should’ve had a feeling that he’d be in the room…

expecting to see vice captain hasegawa at his desk, you were not sure why the two-toned-haired idiot you were trying to avoid was seated in a place like it was his office. then again you weren't all that surprised when seeing a stack of files on both sides with vice captain hasegawa standing behind him keeping watch.

upon entering both turned your direction to you, different expressions but it was all the same to you since you decided he was just captain narumi to you now and not gen (is what you told yourself but your heart felt like it was going to jump out your chest and land right in front of him for him to sign his name right on it).

“sorry to interrupt captain narumi and vice captain hasegawa. just wanted to report that i will be heading off base, can’t give a specific time but i will be back and i will be present for morning training.” in salute position trying to maintain being fixated on the wall behind both men, you couldn’t trust yourself to not have your expression change if you made eye contact nor could you stop your thoughts from crushing the confidence pep talk that kikoru and rin gave before leaving your room.

what you didn’t notice was the look over gen gave you when you stepped through the threshold nor could you have noticed the fast-paced heartbeat and heated ears that donned him once he saw how breathtaking you looked. having only seen you in either your regular civies or defense uniform, it would’ve made him beamed with pride had the change in clothing style been for him, but seeing as you haven’t even spared him a glance in a matter of weeks, he was happy to at least be in the same room with a good 6-foot distance separating you two.

as of late the only time, you would even allow yourself to be near him (at a wide distance but still being in the same room) is if it’s he finally decided to grace the first division with his presence and oversee training, or he’s dragged to a meeting and scuffed at the neck like a kitten by hasegawa. as if a switch flicked in your head, one day you couldn’t help but be next to him no matter the time or place, and now you couldn’t be in a room with him unless you had to.

he doesn’t even know why he is having such a hard time bringing up the situation or just speaking to you in general. this isn’t him. sure he can’t stand when his vice captain talks to him as if his title as captain of the first division doesn’t exist but with how you two danced around the line he didn’t know whether he should make his move or even how he should do it. like come on, holding his rank as both captain of the first division and japans strongest anti-kaiju combatant, and he doesn’t mean to brag (he totally does hope it wows you even more) most if not all, hold him in high regard and entrust the safety of the entire freaking country and defense force to him. this should at least boost his points with you. its not like you don’t know what he can’t do having been on the battlefield together. his speed and durability. his strength and endurance. his skilled martial arts mastery and intellect. never been one to shy away from flaunting his abilities that clearly sets him ranks above the rest (okay big head we get it you’re the best at what you do), it should show that what he can do and has to offer can push you more to him. so why is it that you are trying to pull away from him?

“…captain. captain narumi? CAPTAIN NARUMI?” finally registering that it was you who was calling him back off of whatever cloud he seemed to have found himself on since you came in, he looks at both you and hasegawa in confusion.

“yes, do you need something from me?” trying to make himself look like he wasn’t just spiraling into a hole of turmoil trying to see what could he have possibly done to have you in front of him dressed up so attractively appealing for someone.

“nothing sir. just wanted to wish you both a great night. hopefully, my intrusion didn’t slow down your progress on your work. i’ll get out of your hair and be on my way out.” with a quick salute, you leave straight away not wanting to waste anytime to get to your date (you may not truly like the guy but it’s not like you’re so cold-hearted to just leave him standing after all the planning that went into this date even if you don’t feel like going out now).

with your uver estimated time being 5 minutes away, you tried to speed walk as fast as you could to the entrance doors while simultaneously trying to keep the miniskirt kikoru slipped you in from riding even further up than you could handle. now just hearing the clacking of the high heels, you couldn’t focus on the sounds around you, trying to make it to the exit as fast as possible. nothing could have prepared you for the sudden pull on your arm into the quiet and empty hallway, would anything have prepared you for the sharp deep red eyes that you have been trying to avoid looking at for weeks.

“so what the first time in ages that you speak to me and you can’t even look at me and ‘captain’ or ‘sir’? haven’t heard you call me that since you first arrived. what happened to just narumi? what happened to gen? what’s with the sudden name change? sudden change in everything as a matter of fact? what happened? just tell me what went wrong!” a frenzy of questions snowballed right at you giving you no time even react to the first one. you couldn’t even look away from him when his presence and energy was just demanding your full focus and attention on nothing and no one but him.

“i can’t do this right with you, captain. my ride is going to be here in less than 4 minutes. as of a few minutes ago, i’m not on duty to have my off time disrupted. if that was all you had to say, please let me go. i have a date i can’t miss.”

date. (what?!)

a date. (where?!)

you’re dressed nice and pretty for a date. (why?!)

you’re dressed up nice and pretty because you’re going to a date. (when was this decided?!)

you’re dressed up nice and pretty because you’re going to a date thats not with him. (with who?!)

as he spiraled down his flurry of emotions that seemed to show on his face and eyes even with his mop of hair practically covering a good portion of his face, you were able to bear witness to each one. one right after the other tugging at your heart. making your brain go into its state of unraveling on the tight knot it held on your feelings for him begin to rise its way back out. you just couldn’t hold back on what you had been holding onto.

“please captain just please let me go. please don’t hold onto me anymore. please stop practically taking all my attention. please just stop giving me hope in whatever you lead me to believe this even is.” from the tight hold his eyes held onto yours to trying to focus on the high ceilings to blink away at the tears that threatened to fall and make a mess at what took hours of your support team working on to make sure that even if you were suited up in your usual uniform, you’d be able to battle anything that came your way. yet you seem to be losing the one you started one-sidedly.

“you want me to let you go after you walk in, looking smoking hot by the way, and finally talking to me after weeks of no response from you, only to find out you are going out on a date with some random who probably doesn’t know you as well as i do? i don’t care if i have to throw you in my office and break the handle to keep you in there, you will not be leaving my side. especially for some date with someone that’s not me. when did this even happen? how did this even happen? i’m pretty sure i’ve been dishing out more duties to you just to keep you occupied until you finally had enough to just come to yell at me about it.” he’s been dumping workloads on you on purpose? “anyways you’re not leaving. you are not leaving me. you understand that? now what’s this about ‘me giving you hope’? why would i stop? i thought what we had was something. im into you. you’re into me. why stop that? why try to go on a date another some other guy when that’s the step we’re supposed to be on? cancel that uver. they could be outside right now for all i give a crap. you’re sticking with me and we’re hashing this out. now.” not even letting you fight back, he starts to pull you into the familiar direction where his room is. one that you thought you would never be in again.

the closer you get, the more erratic the pounding in your chest, and the more your mind races having you think it was just the cycle repeating itself.

finally deciding to drop your weight in the opposite direction he was pulling you to (didn’t really do much in all honesty) does he decide to finally look at you again, seeing you in the heart-wrenched state he put you in. “i’m dressed for a date not a situationship lecture from the one who i was in a situationship with. so unless you’ve decided to actually take my feelings for you seriously then i won’t be going in there.”

“give me 30 minutes. i’ll take you on the best date you’ll ever have. by the time it’s over, you’ll never think about being on anyone’s side but mine.”

you didn’t even realize you were standing outside his door, until he faced forward opening his room, having you sit on his throne as he gathered his clothes and such, making the light bulb in your head come to light as you realize that you’re going on a date with gen. not the poor guy who has now been waiting for a response to his texts for the past 15 minutes.

wc: 1.8k

it shouldn’t have surprised you that he’d be here with captain ashiro, it really didn’t phase you as much as you thought it did. not wanting to show how it affected you, you fixated your gaze onto captain ashiro herself, but it was like he was invading your sight everywhere you went. with his back towards you not even wanting to acknowledge your presence, the clenching around your heart was a dull ache, but it was nothing new. you’ve already steeled your nerves when you decided that if he wasn’t going to do anything with what you thought was something good between you then you weren’t gonna waste your time.

“sorry to disturb you, captain ashiro and vice captain hoshina. the officers advised me to give notice just in case so i wanted to report that i would be off base for a few hours.” you didn’t know if it was because you were standing under an air vent or just your nerves running rampant, but it was just making the chills drive up your legs that not even the stockings covering your legs could provide a small ounce of warmth.

“it’s just us here so you don’t have to call me captain. you look pretty by the way. where you going?” it wasn’t known to most of the division that you and ashiro were friends. after a run in at the convenience store for some dried shredded squid where you both reach for the last one in stock, it sparked a quiet friendship between you two, and leading to you both meeting a few times cooking dishes for her, where you would use the shredded squid, after finding out she can’t really use a kitchen knife to save her life.

having heard his captain compliment someone out loud, soshiro doesn’t fully turn to you but just half way so he can see you in his general peripheral vision, and what his captain said was no lie at all.

now standing in a common hand-on-hip pose just seeming more slightly relaxed, he starts his trail at your black red bottom high heels that make the sheer black stockings that hug your legs in a way that has him weak in the knees, having to hold onto the desk he was starting to lean on, paired with a miniskirt and blouse that accentuated the lovely curves he can’t help but fantasize about when he’s alone with nothing but himself and his thoughts.

what pulled him out of his current position was your response.

“just a date with someone from the operations department.”

just a date.

JUST A DATE.

“what the fuck.” who said that? did he say that? he didn’t mean to say it out loud, but as quick as he said it he masked his surprise, in case it slipped off him, and adjusted himself since he started to feel two sets of eyes on him. he could feel them burning on his side.

“this section on the report is wrong. i’ll go check it out to see how to fix it. I’ll leave yall to it.” giving this the only time to be able to turn himself facing to you, he got to see you in your full glory. you look as beautiful as you always do everytime he sees you.

Just as he gets ready to salute his captain, you salute back to him and start to head towards the door before him.

“I’ll let you know how it goes, shiro!” with a little wave to both captains, you rush out the doors and zip through the halls making it in time outside as your uver driver arrives.

if the drive didn’t feel like it had gotten you to your destination too fast, then it was the date that felt like it went painstakingly slow. all they did was talk about themselves, how they had done this and that, and how if they were given the chance, they would’ve done this better than hoshina. hoshina. how you honestly wished it had been him here, instead of the self absorbed person who’s done nothing but waste about 3 hours of your time.

you would’ve left halfway through but if it wasn’t for the gnawing ache in your heart of having to accept that even if you try to be with someone who wasn’t him, you wouldn’t have been able to open your heart to them the way you bore your heart open to him.

it seemed like you didn’t have to sit and suffer in silence any longer because it seemed like even thought they couldn’t get enough of hearing the sound of their our voice, they hated that you didn’t egg them on to continue their endless stream of compliments they wanted to shower themselves in. just slapping a few bills on the table, they left without so much as a glance to you, but you weren’t going to complain about it either. sure it was possibly the worst date you’ve ever been on, but at least you can finally get yourself out of this outfit. sure it was the best thing you’ve wore out since joining the force, but to have it wasted on a date as horrible them, all you could do is hope that whoever decided to take you out next will be worth the amount of effort you put in dressing yourself for.

who were you kidding? as if you’d ever subject yourself to another one like that ever again. sure they may not all be self absorbed and do nothing but waste your time, but at least after each date it wouldn’t have you feeling guilty for wasting theirs as well because no matter how many people you choose to be with, they’ll never be able to occupy the empty space in your heart that he decided to make his place in.

making your way back to base was easy enough if it wasn’t for man himself standing next to the entrance doors.

“well wasn’t that quick. what’d they do? stand you up?” as if that was the greatest joke he ever heard, he couldn’t help but do that cute laugh that he does, clutching at his sides while little by little slightly bending at the knees.

“ ha ha ha! laugh it up. and for your information, he didn’t stand me up. we had a nice time.” lie. “, and he treated me to that restaurant i’ve been wanting to go to.” half lie. “i see the promise of a second date in our near future. so laugh it up while you can. save it for someone who can’t get a date. wait a minute… isn’t that ‘someone’ you?” thinking that should have at least stunned him, you started to make your way past him, but what you didn’t count on was the sudden grip and spin you got in return now having to face the man himself. eyes open and fixated on yours. unmoving. it was a test checking to see who would make the first move…

but you’ve had enough with games.

enough with the side glances.

enough with second too long stares.

enough with the unmovable mocking grin he seemed to give anytime you were caught looking in his direction.

enough with the flirty inside jokes.

enough with the flushed face when he pays just a little more attention to you than he did with others.

enough with waiting.

enough of tail chasing you seemed to be doing just to get him to look at you the same way you look at him.

enough with just being strung along.

enough with him.

“if that’s the case then, why would you be with him and not me?” it seems like today was just full of surprises. there was no way those string of words came out of his mouth. however, if that question didn’t throw you in a loop then the second one did the trick.

“what can i do to make you stay with me?” you couldn’t even back away. with the tightening grip he had on you as if you were just going to sprint in the opposite direction if he were to weaken his hold on you and in no way would you have stayed as well.

did it really have to take him seeing you actually going on a date for him to finally make a move?—but again, if you wanted to hear anything on a already bad day after a bad date, then might as well have it done now.

“are you fucking serious right now?” you don’t care that you are about to get disciplinary action for what you just said to your superior, but who wouldn’t react that way when it was what you needed to hear a few weeks ago for the man himself. no longer were you just going to hide behind the little actions you’ve been doing to keep distance between you two. no not anymore, and if you had to hash it out in from of the division building then so be it. already too frustrated from the crap date and crap ride back just to be stopped by the problem itself only to be landed right back where you started, you just need the weight to be lifted off your chest so you can finally just breathe.

“what do you want? what is it to you that i went out on a date or that ill be going on more? who are you to tell me anything? if anything, you don’t get to dictate what i do outside of my duty to the squad. i’m pretty sure for someone who’s as intelligent as you then you should know how i feel about you and if you anything about me, you should know im not going to wait around anymore just for you to make a move so if you are done with whatever you have right now then just leave me alone” tone getting louder and louder, you don’t seem to notice how his hands went from your shoulders and gently sliding up to hold the sides of your face.

you only notice it when you feel a cold pressure on your lips and then seem to move on their own as they continue to lock with his. heart feeling fuller and your chest feeling lighter. you couldn’t help the tears that started to glide down your face and he couldn’t help himself when he felt them on the pads of his thumbs.

there was no stopping them. what had you agonizing for weeks came to a stop with just one kiss.

apologies coming from him just seemed to make the tear come in steady streams and when he saw that maybe they wouldn’t stop for a while, as if he was holding something so precious (in his case he was), you felt the bottom of your feet lift from the ground and he started to move. to where? you didn’t know. all you can see is the red tint on his ears and feel the tightening grip under your knees and shoulder.

it wasn’t until he adjusted his grip did you glance around to see where you were at.

vice captain hoshina soshiro

he was leading you into his office.

it wasn’t a new place to you. many times you’ve been in here. either waiting out the time as he completes his paperwork so he can give you some more pointers on your swordsmanship (you figured that if there was anyway to get closer to him, it was to learn the craft that he cherished deeply) or just to be in his presence as you helped him with whatever he needed from you (he always made up tasks just to have you around him just a minute longer).

you expected him to just sit you on one of the chairs he has in front of his desk. what you didn’t expect him to do was make his way around it and feel him sit down on his chair with you still in his arms. you didn’t expect him to adjust you so that sitting in his lap. you didn’t expect him to cradle you closer as if he was trying to meld you into him. you didn't expect the small featherlight kisses he lays on your face to get you to calm down.

there were many things you didn’t expect for him to do.

if only those were the only surprises he was going to lay on you, but nothing topped what he said next after resting his forehead onto yours.

“look i know it’ll take a lot to trust what i have to say and i don’t expect you to make it easy. if you can give me time, i promise ill be able to show you just how much you mean to me. i want to be able to make you see that i am yours. that i will always be yours. i hope that you can see just how much i want you to be mine.”

a/n: literally listened to miniskirt by aoa and give it to me by sistar while writing this.

#kaiju no 8 x reader #kaiju no. 8 x reader #kn8 x reader #kaiju no 8 x you #kaiju no. 8 x you #kn8 x you #hoshina soshiro x reader #hoshina soshiro x you #soshiro hoshina x reader #soshiro hoshina x you #gen narumi x reader #gen narumi x you #mari’s fics

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punkrockmlchael · 3 days ago

Text

Bandmates

Masterlist

Gareth Emerson x Fem Bandmate!Reader

Modern AU; Enemies to Lovers (Both Gareth and Reader are in their early 20s)

Warnings: 18+ mdni, Verbally Fighting, Mature Language (Swearing), Sexual Tension, Cocky/Arrogant Gareth (He still asks for consent though which is key! But he's also lowkey a dick.. sigh), Use of Pet Names (princess, angel, baby girl), Smut: Oral (Fem + Male Receiving - Gareth is a head pusher!), Fingering, Cum Eating, Unprotected Sex, PinV, Creampie, afab reader

Synopsis: You're the bass player in the infamous music group, Corroded Coffin. You get along extremely well with Eddie and Jeff, the two guitarists. But, when it comes to the drummer, Gareth, you literally can't win. Everything you do is just wrong and nothing you do will ever be right in his eyes. He constantly mocks you and reminds you that you "suck" at what you do and you've finally had enough, making tonight the night you confront him about it.

This is something I originally wrote and didn’t like so I’m revamping it; sorry not sorry! I think it's better and smuttier than before hehe thank you @keeryhours for proof reading some of this because I felt like I just couldn't anymore.

Word Count: 5.5k

"Great show, guys!" Eddie exclaimed as the elevator door of the hotel shut, enclosing you and the three boys inside the small space.

"Yeah, pretty kick ass. Anyone down for drinks?" Jeff asked, pressing the button for the bar.

"Hell yeah," Eddie replied. He then turned his attention towards you, calling your name. "What about you?"

You shook your head slightly and leaned against the wall of the elevator. "No, I'm probably going to shower and head to bed, I think. But, thanks though; remember to be smart, stay safe and have fun guys." You giggled slightly.

"Lame. Gareth, you?" Eddie asked, directing his attention to the drummer of the band. Gareth shook his head as well.

"Nah, not right now. I'll probably catch up with you guys later, though." Gareth replied. Jeff and Eddie smiled and nodded at you and Gareth as the elevator doors opened. The pair stepped out of the elevator and ran straight for the bar to likely drink for the remainder of the night.

After Eddie and Jeff were out of sight, you took a half step forward and hit the number 4 button on the wall, watching the doors slowly shut in front of you. You crossed your arms over your chest and put all your weight on your right foot, standing as far away from Gareth as humanly possible in the tiny elevator. "Why am I always stuck with you?" You huffed, avoiding eye contact with him.

"Believe me, I was wondering the same thing." He responded. He mocked your stance, leaning on his left foot away from you. "But hey, at least you were in tune tonight. That's a plus." You shot him a glare in reply.

"Oh yeah, too bad you were off beat, though," you retorted back, smirking slightly.

"You fucking wish, princess. You know I'm always on beat, perfectly might I add."

"Someone's fucking cocky. And wrong. You're never on beat." He shook his head at your response, clenching his fists at his sides from anger.

"At least I can actually play an instrument. You can't play the bass to save your fucking life, you know that? I don't know why Eddie ever suggested letting you join the band, all you've done is hold us back this whole time." He spit out.

"You're right," you said softly, looking at him. "All I do is hold you guys back. Too bad I can't hold back your mistakes. And, at least my solo was on time tonight, unlike yours." You added, watching the elevator door open. You stepped out and walked to your room, Gareth hot on your tracks.

"My solo tonight was perfect!" He yelled, following after you.

You stopped in front of your hotel room and turned to him. "Shut the actual fuck up, Gareth; it’s late. People on this floor are trying to sleep, they don't want to listen to you trying to prove yourself to a woman you don't even like." You scoffed, fishing your room key out of your pants pocket. You placed the card to the door, opening it slightly.

"You started it." He responded, watching you step into the room. You tried to shut the door behind you but he stopped you, shoving his foot in the door. You groaned in annoyance and looked up at him.

"I didn't start shit." You growled. "You always fucking start shit like this and continue to blame me, and frankly, I'm done with it. You're literally a fucking asshole; you don't care about anyone but yourself and it shows. Now, I swear to god, move your foot or I will break it so you can't play the fucking drums anymore." You added, trying to shut the door on him again.

"I don't always start shit." He said, pushing the door open before he squeezed his way inside of your hotel room. "And, I don't only care about myself." The door shut behind him as he stood there in your room.

"Yes you fucking do! You're literally an ass to me, and I'm so sick of it. What did I ever fucking do to you?" You shouted, not caring about how loud you were now that the door was closed. "I've been nothing, nothing, but nice to you since I joined the band. Which, by the way, was only like a month after it started, remember? It's not my fault Grant didn't want to play with you guys anymore but if this is how you treat your bass players, then I'm not fucking surprised. Gareth, get off of your fucking high horse. You are not the lead of this band, hell, neither am I. But, at least I respect everyone's role in this band, including yours." You stepped towards him and huffed, poking his chest on the last word. "You're just so," you groaned and looked at him, trying to hold in your anger. You let out a deep breath and clenched your fists before they fell to your sides. "Just get out of my fucking room, now." You raised one arm and pointed towards the door behind him. "Now."

"I do respect your role. In fact, I respect everyone's role." He said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yeah, well, you don't fucking show it. It's always 'you're off', 'your solo was too late', 'your bass isn't tuned right'; why is nothing I do good enough for you?" You questioned, standing close to him, your arms crossing over your own chest.

"Why do you feel like you need to prove yourself to me?" He responded, moving his face closer to yours.

"I don't feel like I need to prove myself to you, but sometimes some encouragement and praise is nice and needed, from all of your bandmates." You said, your face now inches from his. "If we're all in this together then you should fucking show that you care."

He narrowed his eyes and looked at you. "So, then, what do you want?" He asked, smirking slightly. "Oh, your solo was so amazing tonight, oh your bass sounded so in tune tonight, oh you sounded so perfect tonight and it was so hot when you jumped around in a circle with your bass during the last song." You looked at him, a soft blush creeping over your cheeks as you heard the words come out of his mouth. You tried to keep the pink tint of your cheeks out of his view, but it was clear he saw.

"Oh, Gareth, your drum solo was so on point tonight, you actually sounded really good tonight, and that little head nod you do while drumming, oh my god, I'm totally swooning for you." You replied. He smirked, moving his face closer to yours, his lips almost touching yours.

"Yeah, that’s better, princess; that’s exactly how it should be.” Gareth paused slightly before staring into your eyes, “also, who the fuck said that I didn't like you?" A confused look fell over your face after hearing his question. "Earlier you said people on this floor don't want to listen to me trying to prove myself to a woman I don't even like—who said I didn't like you?"

"You. You have told me that you don’t like me multiple times."

"No, I've never actually said that to you, or to anyone for that matter. Because technically, the problem isn't that I don't like you, the problem is that I like you a lot." He said those words and your heart jumped in your chest, a shocked look growing on your face. "Look, do you know how hard it is to be behind you on stage every night, watching your every move? You're so fucking hot. Jumping around in your little mini skirts and all those tight pants. If my solo is ever off or if I'm ever messing up the beats it's your fault. You're to blame because all I'm doing is fucking watching you during the show, instead of focusing on my drum set."

"I don't believe you." You said truthfully, looking up at him. His face was still inches from yours, both of you staring into each other's eyes. "I feel like this is all a game to get inside my head and make me mess up every single show." He smirked softly, towering over you.

"Is it really that easy to get inside that pretty little head of yours?" Gareth asked slowly, moving his hand up to your face. He held your face softly and looked at you, the redness now growing more prominent on your face. He tilted your head up gently, forcing you to look up at him. "You're literally so fucking hot, the fact that you're still single blows my mind. And, honestly, the fact that Eddie and Jeff don't get distracted like I do while on stage with you is also mind boggling to me. I mean, yeah, I'm behind all of you so I see everything, but you walk over to Jeff all the time and distract him while Eddie is singing and he smiles along and goes with it, never missing a chord. If you ever came over to my drum set I think I would actually forget how to fucking play; the sticks would just sit in my hands motionless." He moved his hand down to the side of your neck, holding it carefully before he leaned in slowly, his warm breath hitting your lips. "Ever since you joined the band, ever since that first band practice with you... all I've wanted to do is kiss you so fucking hard and find out what's actually under all these mini skirts and crop tops you always wear." He mumbled, his face so close to you that his lips were almost touching yours. "I've just wanted to pick you apart piece by piece for my own personal pleasure."

"Then do it." You replied, watching him smirk. "What's stopping you?"

He didn't hesitate after hearing your answer. He crashed his lips into yours, kissing you roughly. His hands found their way to your hips, gripping them tightly as he pulled your body towards his roughly.

You groaned when your body hit his, your arms moving to his neck. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, deepening the intense kiss between you both. You pulled away slightly and looked at him, smirking to yourself. "You know," you started, "I've always wanted to do that to you too; find out what's under these lame band tees you wear all the time." You admitted to him, looking down at his Metallica shirt.

"Maybe we should just find out then, huh?" He asked, kissing you again. You pulled him over to your bed and stumbled slightly on your way, never breaking the kiss. You stopped when your legs hit the mattress and Gareth pulled away from the kiss to push you down gently onto the soft hotel bed. He slid off his flannel and pulled his t-shirt over his head, throwing both to the side of the room. He crawled on top of you and looked down at you, smiling a little. "Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked, his eyes scanning your face carefully.

"I've never been more sure," you replied as you returned the smile. He kissed you again, his hands tugging at your crop top. He pulled it up, breaking the kiss to get your shirt up and over your head. He looked down, seeing your bright red lace bra. His left hand made its way to your left breast, squeezing it gently through the lace fabric.

"Mm, you're wearing my favorite color. And it looks so fucking good on you." He kissed your neck slowly before he kissed down your collarbone and chest. He bit the skin above your bra softly, sucking at the spot. You moaned softly, watching him. He kissed down your stomach, stopping right above your black skinny jeans. He undid them and slid them off slowly, revealing your matching red lace thong. "Matching today, are we?" Gareth asked, sitting up slightly to get a better look at your body in your matching set.

You giggled slightly, looking up at him with a wink. "Yeah, my tradition has always been to wear matching sets on performance days. I think it helps me perform better," you admitted, his eyes scanning back up your body to meet yours.

"Well, I think that's really fucking hot." He undid his own jeans, sliding them down. He crawled on top of you in his boxers and smiled, before he kissed you again.

You pushed him over and pinned him to the bed, now taking the spot on top. You crawled on top of him and straddled his waist, leaning down to kiss him again. He groaned into the kiss, his hands grabbing your hips as he moved against you slowly, creating friction. You moaned softly and pulled away slowly, kissing down his neck to right above his collarbone. You bit the skin softly and sucked on it, creating a pink mark that would soon turn into a bruise.

You smirked at the mark and looked back up at him. His bright blue eyes now dark as they watched you on top of him, craving more from you. You reached behind your back and undid your bra, sliding it off of your shoulders before you threw it to the side of the bed. His eyes met your breasts, staring at them before he moved his hands up to them; he held them in his hands carefully, squeezing them softly, which caused you to groan. You groaned loudly and moved your hips down again, rubbing against him.

"Fuck, baby,” he groaned, squeezing your breasts harder. "You're so fucking gorgeous," he breathed, looking back up at you. You blushed at his words, moaning softly as he continued to squeeze and massage your breasts.

"Fuck," you breathed, looking at him. "You know, you're not too bad yourself," you smirked. You leaned in and kissed him again, receiving a groan back from him. He moved one hand down your chest and stomach, stopping right on the front of your panties. He rubbed you softly and slowly through the thin, lace fabric, receiving a whine back from you. "You…You can't tease me..." you said softly, pulling away from the kiss slightly.

"And why not?" He asked, continuing to rub up and down your folds softly and slowly. “I think it’s fun,” he muttered as he looked up at you, leaning in to kiss you again. His lips pressed against yours roughly, kissing you intensely. You sighed into the kiss, moving against his hand to try and create some more friction for yourself.

"Eager, are we?" Gareth grinned into the kiss, pulling back to look up at you again.

You rolled your eyes slightly, a bit embarrassed that your body and moves were giving you away but you really couldn't control it much anymore. "Don't let this go to your head," you sighed, kissing him again. He chuckled softly, moving his hands to rest on your hips gently.

"Too late," he mumbled, rubbing circles on your hips gently. "You're boosting my ego more than I'd like to admit," he adds, looking at you. "But, then again, I guess having a beautiful woman in your lap, almost naked, begging for your cock does that to you."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes at him. "Hey, I am not begging!" You argued, crossing your arms over your chest while you grind against him, creating friction. He groaned softly and threw his head back against the pillows, tightening his grip on your hips.

"Not directly," he replied, "but this," he said, looking at you. "Totally means you want me." He smirked, moving his hips up gently, his rock hard bulge hitting your clothed core.

"Okay, okay, fine," you whined, kissing him again. "You win," you mumbled against his lips.

He smirked into the kiss and repositioned you back on the bed, laying you down on the blanket. Pulling away from the kiss, Gareth kissed down your body, stopping on your lower stomach above the hem of your thong. He kissed over your clothed core gently, glancing up at you as you moaned softly. He pulled your thong down slowly, leaving kisses over your inner thighs as he did.

“Fuck, Gareth,” you groaned, your fingers moving to his curls gently as he left more and more kisses on your inner thighs.

“Yes, angel?” He asked, looking up at you as he placed a soft kiss over your clit gently. You tugged on his curls gently, whining as you looked down at him.

“What’re you doing?” You asked, watching him as he licked a stripe up your folds.

“Mm, tasting you; I’ve always wondered what you taste like. Is that alright?” Gareth asked, sucking on your clit gently.

“Fuck, more than okay,” you sighed, pulling on his curls harder. “You’ve wondered what I taste like?”

Gareth hummed against your clit, looking up at you. “Yeah, but don’t let it go to your head,” he said softly as he sucked on your clit harder, his fingers teasing your entrance.

You moaned softly, looking down at him, “too late.” He smirked against your clit softly, pushing his pointer and middle fingers into you slowly. You moaned louder, tugging on his curls as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out of you. He placed soft kisses on your clit, pumping his fingers faster as he began to curl them slightly.

His tongue flicked over your clit a couple of times before he pulled his fingers out of you. He moved his hands underneath your thighs, lifting them up gently as he licked up and down your folds again, his tongue now teasing your entrance.

Whiney, needy moans left your mouth, your back arching off of the bed gently as you tangled your fingers deeper into his curls, pushing his head down gently so that it was closer to your core. Your hips moved up slightly as well, grinding against Gareth’s tongue and he continued to lick up and down your entrance.

“One second she hates me, the next she’s pushing my head down to eat her out,” Gareth commented as he looked up at you, kissing and sucking your clit again.

“God, you’re so arrogant,” you mumbled back, pushing his head back down again to get him to shut up. “God, you’re just, fuck,” you added, closing your eyes as your thighs squeezed together against Gareth’s head.

He moaned against you, his tongue moving back to your entrance. He darted his tongue in and out a couple of times as his nose pressed against your clit, adding pressure there while he ate you out. His hands squeezed your thighs gently, pulling you closer to him until there was no room left.

He could barely breathe, but he continued to eat you out sloppily as you moaned louder and louder beneath him. Your back arched more, and you tugged on his curls harder as you felt yourself getting closer and closer.

“Gareth,” you moaned, looking down at him. He looked up at you, making eye contact with you as he stayed stuck between your thighs. “Shit, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you warned, squeezing your thighs around his head tighter.

He groaned against you, darting his tongue in and out of you faster. He moved his head slightly, adding a different feeling of pressure onto your clit with his nose causing you to moan his name again as you released onto his tongue and face. You whined, pulling his locks tightly as you moved your hips against him, riding out your high.

Gareth moaned as he licked you clean, licking it all up greedily. You sighed, laying back on the bed as your body relaxed fully. Gareth placed more kisses on your inner thighs before he pulled away, his mouth and chin glistening with your juices.

“Still hate me?” He asked with a cocky grin as he wiped his chin off with his arm gently. You looked at him, rolling your eyes as you sat up gently.

“Somehow, I hate you more,” you teased, standing up slowly.

Gareth placed a hand over his chest, feigning hurtfulness with a soft gasp. “You wound me, princess,” he mumbled, placing his hands on your hips as you stood in front of him. “But, your moans and whines for me say otherwise.”

“God, you’re so cocky,” you mumbled, sinking down to your knees in front of him. “Let’s see if I can make you moan and whine for me now,” you added, playing with the waistband of his boxers. You looked up at him as you tugged his boxers down gently, a gasp escaping his lips as the cool air hit his rock hard cock. He groaned and took a step back, stepping out of his boxers before sitting on the edge of the bed.

You crawled towards him on your knees before you wrapped your right hand around the base of his cock, placing soft kisses on the tip of his cock. “Well, shit, never thought I’d see the day that you were on your knees for me, but, here we are,” Gareth smirked, running his fingers through your hair as you looked up at him. You wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock, taking some of him in your mouth slowly. “Well, fuck, that’s even better,” he added, “you look so pretty with my cock in your mouth, and look at that! It makes you shut up.” He smirked, pushing your head down, forcing more of his cock into your mouth.

You groaned loudly, gagging slightly as Gareth continued to push your head down more and more. You looked up at him, groaning around him as his fingers tightened around your locks of hair. He pulled your head back gently before he pushed it back down, groaning himself as he bucked his hip up into your mouth.

“God, angel, you’re so good with your mouth,” he said, watching you as you continued to gag around his cock. “Taking me so well, letting me fuck your face, made so perfectly for me.” He sighed, pushing your head down more until you were a gagging mess, taking all of him in your mouth. “It’s okay baby girl, breathe through your nose,” he said softly, letting you adjust to the feeling of his cock hitting the back of your throat.

You did as he said, breathing through your nose as you looked up at him, tears brimming your eyes from the feeling. He pulled you back by your hair slightly before pushing your face back down onto his cock. You groaned more and more as Gareth basically used your mouth and face fucked you.

Tears were spilling out of your eyes as you looked up at him, watching him smirk back down at you. “That’s it, princess, just like that, fuck, you’re being so good; letting me use you for my own personal pleasure.” He groaned out, moving his hand to push your hair out of your face. “Aw, what’s wrong?” He asked, moving his other hand to dry the tears from your cheeks gently as you continued to bob your head up and down. “Can’t take it?”

You tried to pull back but he stopped you, pushing your head back down. “You’re doing so good, angel,” he sighed, bucking his hips up again as you gagged yet again. “Mm, so good, so perfect, so pretty, so fuck,” Gareth moaned your name loudly as he bucked his hips up again, pushing your head down as he came inside your mouth. He moaned your name again and again as he shot ropes of his release into your mouth and down your throat. “Fuck, take it, swallow it all, I know you want to.”

You moaned around him, swallowing every last drop that the cocky drummer left in your mouth. You bobbed your head a few more times before he released his grip on your hair, groaning as you pulled away from him. You sat back on your knees and coughed slightly, trying to catch your breath. After a few seconds you looked up at him, sticking your tongue out at him like a child.

“Still hate me?” You asked breathlessly, winking at him.

“You’re a grade A bitch, but, fuck you’re good with your mouth,” he said, pushing your hair our of your face yet again. “Too bad you can’t sing like you suck dick,” he added, smirking at you.

“Yeah, too bad you can’t sing like you eat pussy,” you replied, standing up. “Good with your mouth but you don’t shut the fuck up, and you always need to have the last word, always.”

“Hey! I do not always need to have the last word,” he argued, standing up with you.

“Yes, you do,” you replied, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Do not,” he said, wrapping his arms around your waist. You rolled your eyes and leaned in, kissing him roughly to try and get him to shut up. He smirked into the kiss, kissing you back eagerly. He ran his tongue along your lower lip, sticking it into your mouth after you gasped. He groaned into your mouth as he tasted himself on your tongue, leaving you to moan and groan as you tasted yourself on his tongue as well.

He pulled you closer to his body, his cock springing to life again as it poked at your thigh. You moaned, moving your right hand from around his neck as you trailed it down his body. You ran your hand over his bicep muscles, his chest and stomach muscles before stopping at his cock. You wrapped your hand around his gently, squeezing it before you started pumping it slowly.

“Fuck,” he breathed, pulling away from the kiss. “Look, I’m sure your hand is great, but, I think I’d much rather fuck your pretty little pussy,” he looked at you, trailing kisses down your neck and chest as you squeezed his cock again. “That is,” he sighed, “if you think you can handle my cock.” You looked at him and rolled your eyes.

“Mhm, sure I can. What makes you think you can handle my… pretty little pussy?” You asked, kissing his neck softly.

“If I can handle being in a band with you, I think I can handle anything,” Gareth groaned as you left more and more kisses on his neck. He wrapped his hands under your thighs and lifted you up carefully, before he pinned you to the wall of the tiny hotel room. “Especially your pretty little pussy,” he said, kissing your lips again.

You groaned, wrapping your arms around his neck as you kissed him back. You played with the curls at the base of his neck as your lips moved against his. He repositioned himself slightly, rubbing the tip of his cock against your folds. You gasped at the feeling, resting your head back against the wall.

“Gareth, please,” you sighed, looking up at him.

“Please what, baby girl?” He replied, looking at you with that same cocky grin he always wore.

“Please fuck me,” you answered, trying to move your hips closer to his. “Please, just, fuck me against this wall. I need you inside of me,” you whined. He smirked, pushing the tip of his cock inside of you slowly.

“Is that really how you feel, baby? You want me to fuck you against this wall? I thought you hated me?” You groaned, closing your eyes as he sunk more and more inside of you. Gareth moaned your name, now fully inside of you. “Shit, you are so tight,” he mumbled, kissing and nipping at your neck. “Seems pretty accurate, though. Of course you would be tight, you’re stuck up and rude as hell; it just fits.”

“Yeah,” you moaned, adjusting to his size as he began to thrust in and out of you slowly and deeply. “And you’re so big, which makes sense considering you have a cocky ego the size of,” you were cut off by a moan as he bit on your neck harder and thrusted into you faster.

“My cocky ego is the size of what, angel?” He asked, leaving marks on your neck.

“Hm?” You asked, completely losing your train of thought as he was thrusting.

“Aw, baby girl, are you drunk for my cock?” He smirked, moving to leave kisses on the other side of your neck.

“Maybe in your dreams,” you moaned, your fingers scratching down his back as he thrusted harder and deeper. “Hm, wow, ironic, you do know how to be in rhythm?” You groaned out, digging your nails into the flesh on his back. You wrapped your legs around his waist, trapping him against you.

“Pipe down, princess,” he groaned out, kissing up your jawline. “Actually, you could probaby just fuck off.” He kissed your lips again, thrusting deeper and deeper with each thrust. You moaned into the kiss, whining against his lips as you felt your second orgasm build for the night.

“Fuck, Gareth,” you said softly, “I’m gonna cum,” you added, looking up at him.

“Cum for me, baby. Cum on my cock. Show me how much you love getting fucked by me and my cock,” Gareth replied, leaving soft kisses over your chest. He thrusted up into you again, hitting your sweet spot before you moaned, your legs tightening around him. You clenched around him, moaning his name as you came for the second time that night, something that Gareth was probably never going to let you forget about. You bucked your hips up and continued to release around him, completely forgetting where you were.

Gareth helped you ride out your high, thrusting slow and steady as he kissed your lips softly. He moaned against your lips, cock twitching inside of you as he moaned your name. He thrusted deeply one last time before he came deep inside of you, ropes of his cum coating your walls. You groaned at the feeling, sighing as he rode out his high as well.

He sighed, trying to catch his breath as you kept him pinned against you. He rested his forehead on your shoulder slightly, his fingertips grazing up and down your thighs gently. After a few minutes he pulled out of you, wincing at the feeling while you whined at the loss of him. Gareth walked to the bed and set you down gently, your body relaxing as it hit the soft mattress.

Walking to the bathroom quickly, Gareth came back with a towel. He looked at you and smiled a little, an actual smile, as he cleaned you up gently. He threw the towel on the ground before he crawled on the bed next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist gently. His head nuzzled into your neck as he left soft and sweet kisses over the marks he had left earlier.

“Hm, are you okay?” He asked softly, looking up at you, his baby blue eyes back to normal as they shined in the light. You nodded, smiling a little as you pushed his hair out of his face.

“Mhm, perfect. You?” He nodded back, smiling at you.

“I’m wonderful, thanks to you.” You closed your eyes, cuddling into Gareth more as you relaxed. You jumped slightly when you heard a knock on your hotel room door, Jeff and Eddie calling your name from the other side with drunken giggles thrown in.

You groaned and jumped up from the bed, scrambling to find clothes. You found Gareth’s Metallica shirt and his boxers, sliding them both on as you fixed your hair gently. You looked at Gareth and threw the blanket over him to hide him.

“Hey!” He mumbled into the blanket, poking his head out to look at you. You moved your finger to your mouth and moved towards the door quickly, opening it to reveal a very drunk Eddie and Jeff.

Eddie and Jeff smiled at you, giggling your name. “Have you seen Gareth?” Eddie asked, looking at you.

“Yeah, he said he’d catch up with us but he’s not in his room and he’s not answering his phone.” Jeff added, looking you up and down with a small raised eyebrow.

“Nope,” you lied, “haven’t seen him.”

“Interesting,” Jeff replied, looking at you. “Well, if you see him, can you let him know we were looking for him?” You nodded quickly and began to close the door slowly.

“Yeah, will do, bye guys!” You said as you closed the door in their faces, locking it.

“Dude, she just got laid,” you heard Jeff mumble from the other side of the door. Eddie gasped and looked back at your door.

“No fair! Lucky,” Eddie muttered.

You groaned and walked back to the bed, flopping down next to Gareth.

“You haven’t seen me, huh?” He smirked, moving towards you again. You hit his arm gently and smirked back.

“Eddie and Jeff are looking for you,” you giggled, looking at him.

“Yeah, they can wait,” he smiled, leaving another soft kiss on your lips.

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