#I bet you read it in his voice

[fan-of-a-lot]

Everytime I hear or read “he/she” or “his/hers” or just any variation of that in the middle of a sentence, I think of James Acaster “he OR SHE I didn’t say they couldn’t I got it in before the next word you’ve got nothing on me”. And tbh I love it

[13eyond13]

underrated funny thing about lawlight is they never actually did get to confirm that 100% of the time they were basically thinking exactly what the other person thought they were thinking every single time

[volivolition]

suggestion do you have... any wants? like obviously you do but like? suggestion my guy my ourple boy. both the easiest and hardest to write. you need a skill to say something to move conversation along but it doesn't fit any skill in particular? about 80% of the time you can have suggestion say it and it will make sense. but like actually characterizing him... how do i define you dude... what makes your character tick... urgh. i dont get you yet. im trying to understand but you are difficult.

[pinacoladamatata]

"if you fancy Astarion, you might want to consider therapy. He's so damaged I must have him! Enjoy the fantasy and then call a therapist. It's a two step thing and it's very important you do both." - Amelia Tyler what do your narrator eyes see? 😂😂😂

[chaos-good-life]

Yes I read this in Daniel Craig’s Keentuckeh fried drawl.

[sttoru]

sukunas fav concubine being bullied by the other concubines?? maybe they push her into the fountain 👀👀👀

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. being bullied because you’re sukuna’s favorite concubine is nothing out of the ordinary. when sukuna finally notices the harassment you’re going through, he doesn’t hold back.

wc. 2.2k-ish

tags. true form!sukuna x concubine! female reader. fluff, angst (hurt to comfort). heian era. bullying. one mention of d.ecapitation. vile language. reader gets called ‘brat’. beta reading? what’s that

“she’s got nothing going on for her,” “right? i don’t get what he sees in her,” “tch—he’s only using her for her body anyway,” “duhh. he can’t be pleased by her looks. i mean, she’s really ugly. i bet he thinks of her as just ‘nother hole to use. . .”

and the shushed gossips continue. the concubines hanging around the garden have noticed your arrival, though do nothing to stop badmouthing you. they couldn’t care less if you hear what they say.

you’re used to it by now. you’ve adjusted to this life of yours as one of sukuna’s concubines. his favourite at that—which automatically makes you a victim of verbal (and sometimes physical) harassment. the other women in the ruthless sorcerer’s harem can’t stand you.

your eyes are glued to the path you’re walking on. your lady-in-waiting doesn’t utter a single word as well, holding her head low as she follows behind you. you know that the concubines will immediately pick on you if you make eye contact with one of them.

it’s moments like these where you actually miss sukuna. his intimidating presence and (in)direct threats would immediately make the others fall silent. you wouldn’t have to hear them call you nasty names.

though, unlucky you, sukuna’s out on business. uraume is left as a temporary supervisor of the entire estate. to make sure nothing goes wrong. despite all of that, you still find yourself in an unfortunate predicament.

“hey. we’re talking to you,” a female voice rings from behind you. it isn’t your lady-in-waiting, but the brown-haired woman whom you recognise as one of sukuna’s concubines. her name. . . you can’t recall.

she forcefully pushes your shoulder with two fingers. you stumble backwards, nearly tripping over the material of your kimono. you look down at the hem and notice a subtle muddy stain on the cloth now that you’ve accidentally stepped on it.

you curse the woman out under your breath. the kimono is one of your favorites since sukuna had it made and tailored to suit your taste.

“my apologies,” you mumble politely. you do not wish to make a scene as much as you want to defend yourself. not in front of those poor servants who are simply minding their business and tending to the garden.

the lady scoffs. another one joins. soon, four of them surround you, leaving you no place to escape the situation. with every step you take back, they take one forward. it’s intimidating, though you try to make it seem like you’re not afraid of their words.

“tell me,” the blonde one speaks up and her hand trails up your arm. she twirls a strand of your hair around her index finger before harshly tugging at it. you wince, but she doesn’t budge, “tell me what sukuna sees in a worthless slut like you.”

it’s about sukuna every time. you’re getting sick of the way they treat you because of something you can’t control. you don’t know why he favors you out of all the other women at his service. the way you’re treated because of something that you cannot change is getting frustrating.

the brown-haired woman follows the other lady. she pushes you until the back of your shoe bumps against the edge of a fountain. the grande fountain in the yard that you always love to admire.

the tugs at your hair get stronger. your patience is wearing thin. you take some time to reply to the other concubines, hoping to silence them for now.

you look up at the group surrounding you—a grin tugging at your lips as you decide to taunt them. you scoff, “hah. you cannot blame me for satisfying my lord better than all of you could do together.”

audible gasps sound from the group of concubines. they can’t believe you had the audacity to talk back and be disrespectful about it. the comment you made clearly struck a nerve. or in this case multiple.

“oh, you slut!” the blonde one shrieks, clearly more than upset by your doubts about her services as a concubine. in a flash of rage, she gives you a firm push, sending you backwards until you fall into the fountain with a loud splash.

your lady-in-waiting is the one gasping this time. she looks at you with great worry in her eyes, not knowing if she needs to go fetch uraume or not. she doesn’t have much say in the matter either way.

you’re humiliated by this. you can feel the water seep into the robes of your kimono, staining the beloved material. your hair is wet as well, the water droplets falling off the ends of your locks.

“pah, you look pathetic,” one of the lower ranking concubines chimes in—giggling at the unfortunate situation you got yourself in. the others follow with their own high pitched laughs, “serves you right.”

you don’t even know what you should do. your body feels heavy because of the water wetting your clothes. your nails drag along the fountain’s surface, trying to compose yourself before you do anything irrational.

you grit your teeth and take a deep breath. you’re shaking, both because of the cold settling over your body as well as the anger simmering inside of you. you open your mouth to say something, only to be interrupted.

by someone you didn’t expect to see any time soon.

“enough.”

the deep tone sends chills down your spine. the volume of the male voice nearly shakes the ground. it’s powerful, dominant and quite aggressive. as if the owner of the voice is pissed. no, more than that.

the group of concubines freeze, not even daring to turn around and face the unexpected visitor. you notice your lady-in-waiting immediately falling to her knees, bowing at the man whom you know very well.

“my lord,” you stammer out, being the first to speak up and address him. you’re surprised to see sukuna back this early from his business trip. he normally stays away from the estate for days on end.

sukuna’s footsteps are heavy. his strides are menacingly slow. the aura surrounding him makes the others shake—one concubine being smart enough to bow to him. the king of curses is not one to be messed with, especially when he’s angry.

“tsk. have you lost all your respect while i was gone?” sukuna growls, seeing how the group of concubines are frozen in place with fearful expressions on their faces. the fact that they’re not bowing before him worsens his temper, “kneel.”

he raises one hand and they all knew what was going to happen. you squeal and shut your eyes, hearing that familiar and dooming sound of slashes around you. it doesn’t sound like they’ve hit anything, so you peek through your eyelashes.

you see how the group of women have dropped to their knees the instant sukuna raised his hand in that specific manner. everyone knew just what that meant; death to anyone who’s got their head held high in his presence.

you’ve all seen enough people get decapitated by that same action to know that the sorcerer was not playing around.

sukuna scoffs. he walks up towards you, ignoring the pleas of the other concubines that are begging for his forgiveness. his bottom set of eyes look down at them with disdain before focusing on your figure again.

he silently stands still at the edge of the fountain. his large frame looms over you and you find yourself struggling to get up from the water to bow at him as well. you keep your eyes on your lap, “i’m sorry, my lord.”

sukuna hisses at your apology. a warning for you to shut your mouth. you’re apologising when it’s not your fault and that irritates him more than anything. two of his strong arms reach down to pick you up from your vulnerable position.

the king of curses hoists you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing. he’s not bothered by the fact that you’re dripping wet. in fact, both of his left arms wrap around your torso in attempt to warm you up.

“stay. you’ll all be dealt with accordingly when i return,” sukuna harshly orders your aggressors as he turns around and walks away from the group. he carries you in his arms, not sparing a single glance at his concubines.

he doesn’t even care that he stepped on one of the women’s hands as he passed by. the high pitched shriek only serves to annoy him, which you notice by the way he squeezes your waist in response.

it’s silent between you two for a bit. sukuna steps inside of the estate, his ominous aura making you hesistant to speak. you decide to stay quiet for the sake of keeping the peace. for now.

sukuna’s breathing is a little heavy. he’s trying not to lash out or say anything hurtful. he doesn’t like raising his voice at you—but sometimes he feels like he needs to. especially when you land in situations like those.

“how long has this been going on?” sukuna asks through a heavy sigh. his red eyes are focused on the end of the hallway, where his chambers lay. the veins in his neck look like they could pop out any second now, “and don’t you dare fuckin’ lie to me, y’hear?”

you gulp. you’ve never been so nervous to answer him, ever. you attempt to respond, “uhm, for quite a while, my lord.”

sukuna breathes in sharply at the revelation. the fact that you did not specify your answer only made him think that it’s worse than you’re making it out to be. he stops in his tracks, two hands on your waist as he forces you to face him.

your body dangles in the air as sukuna makes you look at him from up close, showing you that dangerous look in his eyes. you do not dare to avert your gaze from his as he speaks.

“you should’ve told me the moment they started disrespecting you like that,” sukuna grunts. another big hand grabs your jaw firmly, squeezing your cheeks together. you whine as it hurt a little. he scoffs and releases your jaw with a light push, “pathetic.”

you feel your body get thrown into your original position once more. your head is upside down and your legs hang limply over his shoulder. you try to defend yourself in a quiet tone, “i thought you were too busy. i didn’t want to bother you with such unimportant matters.”

it’s true. as much as you wanted to tell sukuna about the mistreatment you were receiving, you knew how busy he was attending to more urgent business. you didn’t want to annoy him with your own problems that you could easily solve.

if only you could stand up for yourself.

“nonsense,” sukuna raises his voice in a moment of weakness, though remembers that you’ve probably been through enough for the day. he doesn’t need to add to that by treating you like shit as well.

he simply sighs it off, “unimportant, huh? ‘s that how you think i view you?”

you raise an eyebrow at sukuna’s last sentence. you’re at a loss for words. you know sukuna values you more than any of his other concubines—it’s the main reason you’re getting bullied for—yet you never heard him speak to you in such a surprisingly soft way.

almost like he’s disappointed that you don’t realise the extent of his favoritsm. he cares about you more than you actually think he does.

“i-i’m sorry, my lord,” you stutter. you really do not have a clue about what to say. all you can do is apologise as you’re left overthinking that one little sentence he said.

“what a brat,” sukuna quickly regains his usual stoic and stern composure. he reaches his chambers and enters his personal bathroom before putting you down on your feet. he looks down at your short stature, feeling the warmth of your body leave his skin once you’re separated.

sukuna watches you shiver. he wants to get angry at you for not telling him about anything that’s been going on while he’s not present, though he simply cannot at the moment.

he’ll let you off the hook for now. but, he’s surely going to give you your own special scolding after he’s taken care of the other concubines. the man grabs a large towel from nearby and messily wraps it around your upper body.

sukuna turns around to walk out of his bathroom, looking over his shoulder once more, “get dressed into something else before you catch a cold.”

he calls for a couple servants to tend to you while he’s away to take care of those deviant concubines. sukuna watches the three maids rush to your service, preparing you a new set of clothes as well as trying to dry you off.

his gaze lingers on you for more than is necessary, his jaw clenching at the sight of you trembling from the low temperatures you’re experiencing. sukuna’s going to make sure those other women pay for what they’ve done to you.

he leaves the bathroom after that, though not without leaving you an order to follow;

“you’re staying in my chambers tonight.”

[sunderwight]

Headcanon that Shen Yuan was hotter than Shen Qingqiu, actually.

Like yeah SQQ being a cultivator gave him a boost to enough attributes + being in a stallion novel where everyone is either unrealistic hot or dog's butt ugly got the Shen Qingqiu body extra points, and he wasn't bad looking to begin with. Plus not being ill is vastly more important to the new Shen Qingqiu than those extra hotness points (Without a Cure notwithstanding). But part of the reason why he's kind of like, meh, at least I'm not hideous or anything, is because Shen Yuan's original body was a knock out.

I also like him as chronically ill, and, as many people know, beauty standards and sustained suffering are not as incompatible as they should be. Shen Yuan was conventionally attractive in part because conventional beauty standards seem to want everyone slowly dying all the time. But even setting that aside, the man had flawless bone structure, an appealing figure, captivating eyes, and the kind of voice that stopped people in their tracks.

All of which was a contributing factor to his antisocial lifestyle, actually. Despite the fact that Shen Yuan does enjoy company and requires a certain baseline of social enrichment for his enclosure, his internalized homophobia and closeting did not play well with overtures from interested parties (regardless of gender). The only way to minimize the odds of him being asked out on dates was to essentially become a shut-in, especially since even Shen Yuan can only make so many excuses before he himself starts to notice that he's going to a lot of effort to avoid specifically that avenue of socialization. Far better to just remove himself from any risk of it, and then vocally lament that oh no he's just too much of a nerd to get anywhere with women!

Anyway this largely doesn't matter much outside of sheer comedy potential for any situation where SY gets his old body/life back. Like imagine a reveal scenario where the System is going to transport them back to their old lives.

Shang Qinghua: well bro I guess this is gonna be the ultimate test of love, right?

Shen Yuan: what do you mean?

Shang Qinghua: our husbands are gonna see what we looked like back before we were glorious cultivators! they're going to have to track us down in our mundane, kinda shitty pre-transmigration lives! it's gonna be at least a little embarrassing, right?

Shen Yuan: *gets his old body back*

Shang Qinghua, normal human with average looks: ...

Shen Yuan, exemplary 11/10: ?

Shang Qinghua: what. the fuck?? bro what the fuck why are you hot???

Shen Yuan: don't make it weird

Shang Qinghua: make it weird??? why were you sitting at home reading my shitty novel when you could have been out there building your own harem???

Shen Yuan: stop exaggerating

Shang Qinghua: oh my god you've always been like this. this is it, isn't it? it wasn't even brain damage from the transmigration or something--

Shen Yuan: hey

Shang Qinghua: --you've just always been completely unaware, haven't you? every time I wrote a beautiful woman who didn't know her own appeal you'd be jumping down my throat--

Shen Yuan: because that's a stupid trope--!

Shang Qinghua: --JUMPING DOWN MY THROAT EXACTLY LIKE THAT but this whole time THIS WHOLE TIME it wasn't even a glow-up issue, you've just been that, personified, yourself--

Shen Yuan: look I know I'm not ugly but I'm not I'm hardly that good-looking

Shang Qinghua: YOU ARE NEVER ALLOWED TO CRITICIZE THAT TROPE AGAIN! oh my god. how many broken hearts did you leave behind when you died?!

Shen Yuan: none, I wasn't even seeing anyone--

Shang Qinghua: yeah full offense but I am nottt taking your word for that. I bet you had a harem you didn't know about in this lifetime too. I bet you had a fan club, like an anime prince

Shen Yuan: *mumbling*

Shang Qinghua: what was that?

Shen Yuan: I said... only in high school...

Shang Qinghua: oh my god

Shen Yuan: it wasn't a big deal!

Shang Qinghua: *frantically trying to see if he can find any trace of it on the internet now*

[lovelybucky1]

Ain’t as Good as I Once Was

warnings: old man!logan x AFAB!reader, riding, bratting, dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, age gap, punishment, degradation, 18+ minors dni, divider from @strangergraphics

“C’mon, girlie, if you want it, you’re gonna have to take it yourself,” Logan’s gruff voice says from below you.

You’re sitting on his lap, trying desperately to fuck yourself on his cock as he sigs back and watches you. Despite your begging, Logan refuses to do the work for you.

“I’m too old for this shit. If you’re that fuckin’ horny, you can take care of it yourself,” he told you smugly.

You sank down on his cock and have been trying to bounce on it, but the strain on your thighs is too much to reach a satisfying pace.

“Please, Daddy, can’t you just fuck me?” you whine pathetically. Logan smirks a bit and chuckles through his nose.

“I ain’t as good as I once was, dollface. I doubt my old bones can fuck you the way you want me to,” he says, not seeming apologetic in the slightest.

You know he’s full of shit. He may be old and gray, but his healing factor keeps him in peak condition. He’d be able to fuck you just fine, he’s just a crotchety old man who wants to see you suffer for his entertainment.

He places a large hand on your hip and starts gently guiding you, urging you to rock back and forth. You follow his movements and while it’s better than what you were attempting, it’s still not what you want.

“You’re a spoiled fuckin’ princess, that’s the problem. So used to Daddy takin’ care of ya, you forgot how to ride, is that it?” Shamelessly you bite your lip and nod.

You wouldn’t call yourself spoiled. Well cared for is a better term. Logan never lets his girl go to bed unsatisfied, and now he’s suffering from the consequences of his actions.

“C’mon, flip me over and fuck me,” you say.

Logan raises an eyebrow at you.

“Who do you think you are, givin’ orders? If I want you to ride my cock, then that’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna fuck that pretty pussy with it until she’s had her fill.”

Logan lets go of your hip but you keep up with the same pace he set. With his hand now freed, he reaches over to the nightstand to grab his cigar and lighter. He lights up and smokes it as if he were at the bar, not in bed, deep inside his girl.

He looks up at you, bored, as smoke pours out of his mouth. You’ve been riding the edge of just enough for the past fifteen minutes and you’re getting increasingly frustrated with Logan’s lack of help. You briefly consider being more of a brat in hopes of egging him on enough to punish you with a hard fuck, but with the kind of mood he’s in, it’s likely that the punishment would be stopping entirely.

You let your head hang down as you brace yourself with your hands on his chest. The solid muscle covered in gray hair is hot, unnaturally so, under your touch and you desperately want to feel that heat on your back while he fucks you from behind.

“Daddy,” you plead quietly.

“What’s the matter, dollface?” he asks, playing dumb like the tease he is.

“I can’t do it.”

Logan smirks around his cigar like you just said the magic words he’s been waiting to hear this whole time.

“What’re you saying?”

You pout down at him. “I can’t make myself cum. I need you to do it for me”

Logan, surprisingly, grins at you. “Bet you regret calling me an old man now, huh?”

You furrow your brows in confusion, but you quickly realize what he’s talking about. Before this all started, you pounced on his lap and asked him to fuck you. He told you he was busy reading his book, and in your usual bratty fashion, you replied, “What, you can’t get it up, old man?”

“I didn’t mean it, Daddy,” you whine. “I swear, I was just teasing you.”

Logan hums but makes no effort to move. “Guess you better start behaving if you want something from me.”

“I promise I’ll be good. I won’t talk back anymore,” you attempt to bargain.

You both know that’s about as empty of a promise as you could give, but Logan doesn’t seem to care. He prefers when you’re trouble anyway; it’s the game you play. He’s the grumpy and mean and you’re the spoiled, demanding princess.

Logan stubs his cigar out in the ashtray on the nightstand and places both hands on your hips. He lifts you off of him with ease, something that never fails to amaze you, and sets you on the bed next to him.

He moves so he’s kneeling between your legs and holding them up around his waist, his cock lined up at your entrance.

“Spoiled fuckin’ rotten, you are,” he mutters as he pushes inside.

Logan always makes sure his girl goes to bed satisfied, no matter how much of a brat she is.

[infictionalwonderland]

all the bau meeting spencer’s badass gf who drives a motorcycle, has tattoos, dresses like a mob wife!!!! pls pls pls i need to read their reactions to bby boy pulling us

i can definitely do that for you !!

“You have to be nice.” JJ stared imploringly at Derek who looked back at her in shock across their booth in the bar, falling dramatically back into his seat.

“Nic—I’ll be more than nice.” He assured with the beginnings of a mischievous grin, only for Emily to slap him across the back of the head. “Hey!”

“I bet she’ll be so cute! Like a mini female Spencer all bundled up in fluffy cardigans and—aww I bet she’ll have big adorable glasses.” Penelope gushed excitedly, practically bouncing in her seat.

The sound of a motorcycle roaring distracted them and they all looked out of the window in that general curiosity that people get upon hearing a motorcycle, who was the potential hottie driving it.

Penelope gasped loudly, her drink splashing as it clanked against the wooden surface. Emily and JJ’s mouths dropped open, eyes popping out of their skulls dramatically. Derek genuinely felt lightheaded as he watched the scene before him—grasping desperately at the edge of the booth. Rossi’s eyebrows arched and he shook his head, chuckling slightly to himself. Hotch merely stared, though a smirk was twitching at his lips.

“Absolutely not—“

“What? HOW—“

“It’s a clone. An alien!”

The team’s startled chatter broke off as Penelope shushed them all loudly: everyone watched as their Spencer, boy genius, Reid got off of the back of the motorcycle, removing his arms from around the waist of the breathtakingly gorgeous girl. He offered her his hand as he stood in front of her and she rolled her eyes fondly at him, taking it. When she stood, he unzipped her motorcycle jacket for her and eased it off her shoulders—revealing a silky black halter dress, her arms scattered in tattoos, as were her thighs. Hoops dangled from her ears, red bottoms on her feet, nails manicured and hands adorned in rings.

Derek literally flopped back into his seat, starstruck.

All of them watched, heads turned accordingly to never stop looking at the pair of you (mostly you), as Spencer folded your jacket over one arm before taking your hand in his other as you both walked to the entrance—they could see he was rambling and you stared up at him, a charmed smile on perfectly painted lips.

“I—“ Emily sucked in a breath, flustered, “they’re coming now—act natural.”

At her hiss, Penelope purposefully fell back into what she thought was a more relaxed position, fluffing her hair. JJ awkwardly straightened out her clothes, leg bouncing. Emily leaned over the table ‘casually’ swirling her drink and Derek positioned himself with a broad arm flexed on the windowsill, looking out the dirty screen of the bar window with a smoulder.

Hotch looked at them all and silently shook his head, Rossi chucked silently at his face of disappointment.

The team heard the click of your heels approaching and vague remnants of your conversation with him that led Spencer to giggling.

Shocked looks were exchanged and Penelope looked like she was going to melt into a gooey puddle of awwwww.

“Hello everyone!” Spencer chirped as he reached their table, happier and more relaxed than they’d ever seen him be. “It’s nice to see you all—this-this is my girlfriend, Y/N.” 

“Hi.” Your voice was silky smooth and Penelope eyed your immovable un-smudged lip-combo with admiration. “It really is a pleasure to meet all of you.”

“The pleasure is absolutely all mi—“ Derek stopped, his sentence turning into a series of harsh wheezes as both Emily and JJ elbowed him in either side.

You blinked at them.

“It’s lovely to meet you.” He continued in a pained voice, collapsed dramatically into his seat.

JJ and Emily rolled their eyes.

“Hi! It is so so so cool to finally meet you—I’m Penelope and you are even prettier than Spencer described and, believe me, your doctor man used every ounce of this thick vocabulary to compliment you.”

You quirked a grin at the excited redhead in front on you, looking teasingly over at your boyfriend who was blushing bright red but he grinned shyly back at you.

“David Rossi.” The Italian introduced himself formally as you and Spencer sat down in the booth, opposite him. “I always knew Spencer was a man of good taste.” He gave you a mischievous smile.

“I would argue that we both have great taste.” You winked back, settling into your boyfriend’s side.

The team watched the easy way that Spencer allowed you into his space, the way in which he wrapped his arms around your waist with a comfortability they’d never seen before and the urge to smile was simply too much to ignore.

“I just want to say, If the genius ever messes up. .” Emily trailed off, making a phone with her hands and holding it against her ear, she mouthed ‘call me’ at you.

As laughter left your smirking lips, you looked up at your boyfriend who shook his head playfully down at you—you turned your head to kiss his cheek briefly, smiling up at him.

“I’ll be sure to give you a ring.” You promised her as the laughter around the quietened slightly.

“And me!” Morgan piped up happily only to groan unhappily again as JJ slapped him over the head.

“Don’t call Morgan.” JJ advised, leaning across the table as though to confide a secret in you, voice lowering to a mock whisper, “he’s got an STD he refuses to get rid off.”

“LIES AND SLANDER.”

“Not on his good name.” Penelope joined in, giggling all the while.

“It’s nice to finally meet you—I’m Aaron Hotchner.” Your boyfriend’s boss introduced himself to you as everyone got sucked into taking the piss out of Derek.

“It’s lovely to meet you Hotch.” You replied kindly, taking the name you’d heard them all call him.

“Please,” Aaron paused briefly, glancing at Spencer with a minuscule smirk, “call me Aaron.”

You nodded with an unaware smile but Spencer’s mouth dropped as his boss to a sip of his drink to hide his smirk, not him too.

[currently-becoming-potatoes]

List of words for the computer:

LONG POST- more under the cut

STANFORD- Pulls up a file on Stanford Pines, written by an unknown scientist. It discusses his extra finger and praises his intelligence, as well as calling him the “next evolution in the human species”.

BILL CIPHER- Takes you to the Wikipedia page for the Eye of Providence. Also took me to a Sesame Street video about a Jazzy Triangle and a Square. Not sure what prompted the change.

STANLEY PINES: Takes you to a list of EBay listings for brass knuckles.

FIDDLEFORD: Takes you to the music video for Cotton Eye Joe by Rednex.

SHERMIE: Nothing. I sure do wish we got some lore about Grandpa Pines.

GRAVITY FALLS: The text on the computer reads “never heard of it” and the red light on the bottom turns green.

ALEX HIRSCH: Leads to Google Images for “flannel”. Huh.

WEIRDMAGEDDON: Pulls up an article from the Gravity Falls Gossiper about how nothing happened at all and there was no apocalypse.

DISNEY: Screen reads “rat.gif censored for your protection”

SOOS: Leads to a page of writing from Soos himself, referencing many things (including Tad Strange being gay and madly in love with Woodpecker Guy. Love wins!!!)

DIPPER: Leads to a creepy yellow parchment with a message from Bill Cipher himself trying to trick Dipper into blinding himself by staring at the sun for 13 hours straight! Silly! (Also if you keep clicking on it, the page gets darker and blurrier until it implies we've gone blind)

MABEL: Causes stickers to appear on every available surface. Clicking it enough times leads to message “lab now fully Mabelized”.

WENDY: Leads to a note from Wendy that mentions a way to ward off evil triangles written in the bottom corner of the book.

GIDEON: Makes a web recording of Gideon scatting play. It ends with “I love you forever Mabel”. Please shut the fuck up you little creep.

TAD STRANGE: Plays a video of bread with smooth jazz in the background.

TOBY DETERMINED: Leads to a Google search for a restraining order. Holyyyyy shittttttt

WHO ARE YOU: “I could ask you the same question”

SEASON 3: “Season Two”. I guess that’s that lol

This was about all I could find. Please reblog with anything else you can discover! Thank you, fellow Gravity Falls enjoyers!

And make sure to give some love to all the wonderful folks down in the comments! Many of these answers and tips come from what they've found. I can't list everyone, unfortunately- I didn't expect this post to get popular- but, to everyone who's helped out, THANK YOU.

FURTHER EDITS:

BLIND EYE: Pulls up an optometrist’s eye exam. Each line reads “WKHBOOVHH”. Too lazy to translate atm.

PIÑATA: Bill Cipher getting beaten to death /hj

MASON: A note from Dipper listing several anagrams of Gravity Falls characters’ names. You can check in the comments for the answers.

AXOLOTL: “You ask alotl questions”. Thanks for the pun, Alex, but I’m kind of losing my mind rn

MYSTERY SHACK: Leads to a Google search for Confusion Hill, the real-life Mystery Shack!

MYSTERY: “?”

MONSTER: Leads to several YouTube videos for “There’s a Monster at the End of this Book.”

VALLIS CINERIS: Leads to an analog-horror-esque video of Baby Bill and his parents, who have been blotted out by static, and a voice repeating “WHY DID YOU DO IT” over and over again until you stop the video.

PORTAL: “Portal.exe has been deleted. I bet you could build a new one.”

GIFFANY: You need to put it in multiple times. Several warnings about breaching firewall, followed by a message from GIFFANY saying “SOOS! I still love you!” or smth like that, and then GIFFANY herself briefly appearing onscreen. Trying again after that summons her more. Also lets you download some ZIP files.

DORITO: Summons an image of a spinning Dorito, followed by the most cursed image of Bill Cipher I have ever seen.

GOD: A short video of an axolotl in a tank with a Bill Cipher statue plays. This is Alex’s axolotl, shown in the Book of Bill countdown.

REALITY: “Is an illusion”

FILBRICK: “I’m not impressed”

CARYN: “I knew you were gonna write that”

GLASS SHARD BEACH: Leads to an image of the New Jersey Hell Hole.

ANY CUSS WORD: Pulls up a paper reading “NOT S&P APPROVED. WASH YOUR MOUTH OUT WITH SOAP” with an image of soap below.

MATPAT: Leads to a video of MatPat next to a conspiracy board, holding the Book of Bill. He tells us we’re on our own.

BABBA: Plays an audio recording of Dipper singing BABBA. Not Disco Girl, a different song.

CRAZ: Leads to the Jem and the Holograms theme.

XYLER: See above.

AD ASTRA PER ASPERA: Shows us two new journal pages from Ford and Mabel, studying the Cipher statue. They’re definitely worth the read, I teared up looking at them.

ANSWER: “Question”

QUESTION: “Answer”

SEASON ONE: “Season -1: Antigravity Falls”

SEASON TWO: “Season 1” …maybe scratch what I said about Season 3. Or don’t. Things are starting to damage my brain.

CURSED (got from @slimslamflimflam decoding the candle! Thanks!): Shows two pages talking about the dangers of drawing triangles, with the bottom of the second page showing several drawings of Bill and the words “HE IS COMING, RUN”

THE UNIVERSE: “Hologram”

RIZZ: “Life privileges revoked. Now releasing poison gas.” This response is repeated if you type in SKIBIDI or FORTNITE.

BABY: Shows an ultrasound of a fetus Bill Cipher, captioned “Look at what’s growing inside you! See you in nine months, papa!”

JOURNAL 3: “The Journal for Me”

PACIFICA: Leads to a note from Pacifica calling Bill Cipher “ick” and telling us to follow her on social media under “Platinum Paz”

PLATINUM PAZ: Pulls up an image of Northwest Manor with the llama symbol overlaid and a “NW” logo beneath. There's also a short story beneath!

LOVE: Leads to an audiobook of “The Love Triangle”. Need to read later.

BLENDIN: “The time agent lost and presumed incompetent”. Uh…?

SCARY: Leads to another audiobook of a cheesy Goosebumps-esque horror novel written by Bill himself, apparently.

DIVORCE: Shows you the logo of the bar Bill went to after his fight with Ford… Billford bitter exes confirmed

ROBBIE: Leads to the cringiest messages ever. He’s such a failure I love him

CONSPIRACY: Leads to a video of a man losing his mind over the countdown counting up. I feel so seen. (I have been informed that his name is Charlie Day, he's an actor from It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia and that one meme, he had a quote on the back of the Book of Bill, thanks to everyone who explained that to me, I'm sorry, I'm uncultured)

RAT: “Thurburt’s number?”

BLANCHIN: Leads to a YouTube video on how to blanch vegetables.

TJ ECKLEBURG: “Never mention that name again.”

NOTHING: “Something”

SOMETHING: “Nothing”

BURNSIDE: “Burned inside.” Well… at least we know what happened…

WADDLES: Leads to the pig placement network!

THERAPRISM: Pulls up a sign from the theraprism regarding an emergency situation. The code reads "THE OLD ONE".

SHAPE: Pulls up an article on Plato, triangles, and Ancient Greece. This article is presumably written by Bill.

LLIB and BILL: THIS leads to the Sesame Street video every time.

WEIRD: Shows a video of a frightened Weird Al panicking about being trapped in a computer. Sorry, man...

CLONE: Pulls up an image of Paper Jam Dipper, a warning about not getting him too close to liquids, and an option to print.

TRIANGLE: ")" or "Tri harder."

THEYLLSEE: "Is seeing believing?"

DEER TEETH: "For you, kid!"

LIFE: "Life: 72% complete. Now loading: death."

DEATH: "Life's goth cousin."

PINES: "A good family tree."

OWL TROWEL: A slab of hieroglyphs, translating to an ancient ad for an owl trowel.

SCALENE: "Life form not found." EUCLID has the same outcome.

WELL WELL WELL BEING: Some assorted notes from Bill's Theraprism file. These include his greatest love and fear, his art therapy notes, and notes on his phobias. Three clicks is required to read them all.

BOO BERRY: Offers a poem on the meaning of life! Wow! I feel so enlightened!

LOVE YA BRO: Shows us a doodle from Stan of one of his and Ford's Sea Grunks adventures, and another code on the back. It translates to "Kings of New Jersey." I've been told it lets you download the code as a font.

SORRY: Reveals the repaired Backupsmore photo, with a note from Fiddleford about his and Ford's growing friendship. Fiddauthor fans, we are eating well tonight!

HORROR: Pulls up an image and report on The Always Garden, which is essentially a cheap Italian restaurant hidden in the backrooms.

HOLOGRAM: "Universe."

NAITSUAF: Pulls up a page that looks like it would be from the Book of Bill, in which Bill tries to convince us to sell us his soul. Clicking "ARE YOU READY?" pulls up a contract where we can sell our soul to Bill (with an alarming amount of coded fine print. Will need to translate later). You can print this document out, back out, or sign it right there on the web. Hitting "SIGN" causes the words "PLEASURE DOING BUSINESS WITH YOU!" to appear, and the document to close. In other words, I no longer have a soul.

IMSTILLONYOURMIND: Plays a recording of the ocean, with Stan faintly talking in the background. Poor Ford ain't quite over the divorce yet...

HOTXOLOTL: Pulls up a "MOST WANTED" doc on the henchmaniacs.

SEVENEYES: Pulls up a faded polaroid of The Oracle with text on the back that reads "LEAVE HIM. Escape to dimension *blurred out*. It's against the rules but it's the only reality where you'll be safe from him." The code at the bottom (once again decoded by the powerhouse that is @slimslamflimflam) reads "Set a course for Dimension: R34LITY." Is another Cipher Hunt in the makes? Only time will tell, hehehe.

JUST FIT IN: Plays an old commercial with a few moments of speech in the glitches at the end.

EVEN HIS LIES ARE LIES: Shows a transcript from a therapy session at the Theraprism. Bill discusses his relationship with Ford and cuts off the session when someone brings up his parents.

NOT A PHASE: Shows a Google search for "black hair dye stained an entire bathroom."

PAPER IS BOOK SKIN: Instantly downloads a page of fleshy pink paper with the word "ENJOY" written on it!

SHAVE YOUR GRANDMA: Pulls up a few more pages about the human life cycle.

LIES: Pulls up an image of "The Game of Lies" board game, with a long stretch of text from (I assume) Bill, ending with "LIE UNTIL YOU ARE NOT LYING ANYMORE." Someone has some issues...

SAY BAAAA: Pulls up a neat little rhyme about being Bill Cipher's obedient flock of sheep. The code at the end translates to "Black Sheep."

ONE EYED KING: Plays a video of a hypnotist's spiral, with Bill proclaiming "YOU WANT TO PLEDGE YOUR SOUL TO BILL CIPHER" in the background. There is also morse code that translates to "NAITSUAF", leading to a previous discovery- the soul contract.

TANTRUM: Pulls up a transcript of a spat between Bill and Time Baby.

TITANS BLOOD: "HOOT HOOT! Password please!"

CURSE WITTEBANE: Pulls up an image of a Bill Cipher ouija board.

FORDTRAMARINE: Pulls up several rejected files from Ford trying to convince us Fordtramarine exists.

SUCK IT MERLIN: Pulls up a tapestry of Bill riding a unicorn. The code at the top reads "DAY MARE VS NIGHTMARE."

HEY NERD: Plays a commercial advertising things such as a Bill Cipher calendar, the Scrubba-Bill, a severed hand, and the entire Cygnus-XIII galaxy. Half of the image can be found in the Book of Bill.

DESTRUCTION IS THE FORM OF CREATION: Pulls up a frantic page of notes from post-portal-shit Fiddleford. A sticky note at the bottom has a code that reads "Unreality."

RUBBERHOSE: Plays "The World is Small Ever After for All."

IRREGULAR: Shows us Bill's mugshot in color. The code below reads "No prison or attention span can hold him."

UNREALITY: Offers a guide by Bill on how to become immortal.

GUN: "Oh yes oh yes oh yes they both."

ABUELITA: Leads to a video on vacuuming the walls.

YES: "What's McGucket's favorite soda?"

NO: "Your loss..."

REPEATEDLY CLICKING STAN: This stuff deserves a section of its own, away from the OG Stan stuff. It takes you through several Ebay listings on various Stan-ish items until you get to a page written by Bill about Stan's secret shames. "Ex-wives" further confirms our theory on Stan and Eda's relationship, as well as revealing many other bits of lore. "Fears" is somewhat goofy to be honest. "Secret Shames" reveals that Stan is a fanfiction writer and that his mother is the only member of his family who truly loves him outside of Ford and the kids. "Unreported Crimes" is somewhat goofy as well. "Failed Products" basically confirms that Stan is that world's Alex. "Lowest Moments" is genuinely depressing, and "Darkest Thought". Well. I'm not spoiling it lol. And the bit on "How He Beat Me" causes Bill to get more and more frantic/angry the more you click it! Comedy GOLD!

DIPPY FRESH: Leads to a Reddit post of the Burger King Kids Club.

MEOW: Leads to a TikTok of a man playing the Gravity Falls theme on that cap keyboard.

HELP ME: Pulls up another video of Alex's axolotl and the tiny statue. Rip Bill ig :/

R34LITY: Pulls up several photos of the henchmaniacs in live-action, captioned "They found a new home."

JOURNAL 1: "The journal of fun."

JOURNAL 2: "The journal for you."

FBI: "Your webcam is on. We are watching."

BURNED INSIDE: Shows an image of a charred Oregon Parks badge and nametag on the ground.

HECTORING: Plays a silly little country song!

OROBOROUS: Pulls up two journal pages about Fiddleford buying Ford an axolotl to keep him company, and Bill subsequently telling Ford to get rid of him. There's also some code on the first page that reads "CHONKY BOY." Ford, you wonderful dork.

[i2sunric]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐘 (l.hs)

PAIRING: heeseung x reader (f)

SUMMARY: due to a storm, his parents are stuck in a motel for the night while you are stuck at his house. with wi-fi not working, heeseung can’t think of anything better than recreating the scenes of your smutty books.

WARNINGS: established relationship, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy!), fingering, standing sex (?), missionary, pussy eating, masturbation, dirty talking, blowjob, oral (m and f receiving), rough sex, chocking, i lied about the doggy style, pet names (angel, baby), lmk if more, NOT PROOFREAD.

PUBLISHED: 13th August 2024

WC: 3.7k

TAGLIST: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @strawberrhypen @heeheeswifey (oneshot) @trizdoniki @love4hee @strayy-kidz @baribaaari @shirizula @astratlantis @jaeyungxrl @heestarry @heeseungismymanz @mitmit01 @rayofsunshineeee @heesexual74 @deezbin @jakeswifez @nikiswifiee @hqqj @diorfmu @isa942572 @yjwluvs @norihoyeon @starggukies @shiningnono @sunpov @iamliacamila @strawberrhypen @gnvi-eve @wildflowermooon @kaykay11sworld @erenswifesposts @star-hoon @aubaee @lvnglysunoo @heebear @enhypenlovre BOLDS COULD NOT BE TAGGED.

a/n: honestly the intro sucks and so does the outro but i swear the smut is GOOD. literally 3k words of filthy porn ngl. enjoy lol. please LIKE & REBLOG to spread and let me knows your thoughts 💗

What was supposed to be a cozy Thursday night ended up in you being forced to stay at Heeseung’s house for the night.

Forced? Not really, you enjoyed the excuse of spending more time with your boyfriend. Because of a flooding caused by the storm outside, you weren’t able to go back home.

But neither were his parents, who were supposed to have a nice date and ended up being blocked by the horrible weather.

The sound of the raindrops tapping against the window filled the room as Heeseung turned off the shower.

You were laying on his bed with your back to the wall as you peacefully read your book, thankful that your sixth sense made you bring it.

Heeseung entered the room with only a towel wrapped around his waist while he used another to dry his damp hair.

“Reading still?” He asked, nudging the book with toe. “Ew.” You stated, pushing his foot away “And yes.”

Heeseung just chuckled and moved to get his clothes from the drawer “Heard from your parents?”

He hummed “I called them before showering, they said they’ll stay at a motel,” He put his boxers on “But before they could say more, the line cut off.”

You threw a glance at the window “This storm is going to destroy a lot of things.”

Heeseung struggled to put on shorts and then rounded the bed, the mattress lowering where his weight was.

“I bet they’re having some wild sex right now.” You joked, flipping another page of your book.

Heeseung pinched your side “Ew? I don’t really want to think about my parents going at it.” He laughed, laying down beside you.

“Careful, you might have a brother soon.” You joked again, earning another gentle pinch.

A couple of minutes passed by and Heeseung groaned “Wi-fi doesn’t work.” He threw his phone at the end of the bed. “I can’t play games.”

“Poor you.” You cooed, caressing the hand he had placed on your hip, his chest pressed against your back.

“Can’t you put your book down and give me attention?” You could hear the pout in his voice “No boy, I’m at an important point.”

“Evil.” Heeseung murmured as he settled into a more comfortable position, strangely not going anywhere to do something else.

You felt his hand on your side, relaxed as well as his breath even. ‘He must’ve fallen asleep’, You thought, as you flipped another page of your book, unable to stop your eyes from reading the scene unfolding before you.

If Heeseung was to casually open his eyes and read even one line of the chapter, he would certainly make fun of you.

Who even reads smut in their boyfriend’s bed?

You felt his hand flex on your stomach but you didn't really mind, he would always move uncontrollably when asleep— sometimes, even kicking you.

As your mind proceeded the words written down on paper, your body reacted to it, almost unconsciously.

You could feel your core pulse in need, your body temperature raising and at the same time goosebumps appeared on your skin.

It always happened, you couldn’t help the way your imagination wandered with the characters of the book, the tension and the way they cared for each other. It was all too tempting, you could feel your stomach fill with butterflies.

But your boyfriend was sleeping and you didn’t want to disturb him, knowing he already had troubles falling asleep — the reason why he always stayed up late to play games —, so you kept quiet.

You felt Heeseung shift behind you, the hand on your stomach circling your waist until he was able to pull you against his chest, his breath hot against your ear.

You held your breath as he changed position, not making any sudden movement while he used you like you were a teddy bear.

Gulping down, you waited a few beats before focusing your attention back on the chapter.

It’s not like you and Heeseung had never gone further than third base, but it was always so… vanilla.

You longed for someone to use you for your own pleasure, to talk you through your multiple orgasms, to mark you up and manhandle you like a doll.

But you would never have the courage to confess that to Heeseung.

Yes, you two had been together for almost a year and half though you weren’t ready to open up to your contorted fantasies. Afraid that he may run away, you loved him too much for that.

So, you hid in your imagination, burying your nose in books that filled the void inside of you.

Letting out a quiet sigh, you tried to calm the fire igniting your bones, but your hips shifted uncomfortably, the ache between your legs too strong to be ignored.

Suddenly, Heeseung spoke to your ear, voice low and husky “You want to show me too?” You jolted and closed the book, catching your finger in middle, hissing at the pain.

You turned your face around and caught his gaze, something different inside it. Something primal.

“I-I thought you were sleeping.” You said, blinking faintly and Heeseung smirked, “I was reading with you.”

He reached the book from your hand and like a fool, you let him take it. He opened the page where you had left your finger in and cleared his throat “He looked at her with a strange urge, his attention gliding to her face,” He started reading.

“His voice was low when he said ‘Show me, show me how you touch yourself when you’re alone in the middle of the night’.”

The heat that was once in your stomach moved to your cheeks, embarrassment coating your expression.

“It’s just a chapter, I was skipping it.” You tried to reach back for your book but he held it up, sitting “Ah, lying is bad, Y/N.”

Heeseung’s smirk was cocky “You seemed pretty into it.” You scoffed, “Give it back.”

Your boyfriend was clearly enjoying it, the way you blushed and the flustered look on your face. He licked his bottom lip and eyed you up and down.

Only when you lowered your gaze, unable to meet his, did you notice the hard-on he was sporting. Was he enjoying it the same way you were?

“There’s no wi-fi.” He stated, “And my parents aren’t home, don’t you think we should occupy our time?”

This side of him was something you had never seen, perhaps, had he the same hidden likings as yours? Looked like you were about to find out.

“How?” You asked, your voice hoarse, barely yours. Heeseung glanced back at the page and said “Take off your shorts.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, “W-What?” And he just chuckled darkly “Do you think I didn’t notice your body language, mh? Do you think I didn’t see how you were craving… this?” He raised the book.

“Now, take off your shorts or I’ll have to do it myself.” Normally, you would comply, but you were feeling bold, adrenaline shooting in your veins, so you said instead, “Make me.”

His eyes darkened, his brow raised. He placed the book on the bed and crawled towards you as you backed away until your back hit the headboard.

He kept eye contact while his fingers hooked around your shorts, and instead of his usual slow pace, he yanked them off.

You gasped at the sudden force, soon enough your shorts were laying on the floor “Isn’t this what you want?” He questioned.

“You want someone to dominate you, uh? To show you what’s your place?” Your whole body shivered from his words as you mindlessly nodded.

“All this time I’ve been gentle, afraid to make you uncomfortable,” He gripped your panties “But all you wanted was to be fucked, hard, isn’t it?” He ripped them off you, the sound of fabric stretching making you gasp again.

He smirked and threw the messy fabric on the floor, with your shorts “So, I’ll follow what you like.” He pointed at the book resting on the duvet “Play with yourself.”

You widened your eyes. Heeseung’s behaviour was different from his usual one, though you couldn’t say you didn’t like it. Lord, you were drenched just from his words and he could see it, the way your juices coated your pussy, spread in front of him.

You gulped and slowly moved your hand down, reaching your clit which you started circling.

A soft hum escaped your lips at the sweet feeling and you watched him, his gaze so primal and full of lust as he took in the sight of you touching yourself.

Just a few beats passed before he asked “You know what she does now, right?” And you nodded, lifting your hand up to his lips. He hummed and took them inside his mouth, his warm tongue twirling around your digits.

The taste of you, even if it was just brief, was enough to make his head spin, so delicious and intoxicating.

You removed them “Let me watch while you fuck yourself.” He said and was suddenly aware of your position. Of how open you were in front of him, your folds clenching around nothing.

Heeseung raised an impatient brow and you hurried to coat your fingers in your juices, rubbing them against your entrance before thrusting one inside.

You moaned, your fingers brushing against your g-spot right away, given all the times you’d done this.

Heeseung licked his bottom lip, the taste of you still lingering in his mouth, on his tongue. He could feel his shorts grow tighter by the minute, his desire for you overtaking any rational thought.

“One more baby, I know you can take it.” He urged and you complied, adding a second digit to your ministration.

Heeseung let out a groan, his eyes locked on you as you brought pleasure to yourself. He quickly took the book back in his hands and flicked the page, a wicked smile on his lips.

“Yeah, bet you’ll like this.” He said as he pushed himself down the bed and took you by the back of your thighs, tilting your body until it was pending at the edge of the bed.

You stopped your movements and pulled your fingers out with a ‘POP’ sound, resting on your elbows to look down at him “Hee?”

“Don’t worry, angel.” He pried your legs open, his breath fanning on your cunt, making you squeeze your eyes “Just need to taste your sweet pussy.”

And then you felt it, the swipe of his tongue across your folds, your mind clouding from the pleasure as soft gasps escaped your lips.

Heeseung ate you like a starved man, alternating sucking on your clit and fucking you with his tongue, his strong grip prevented you from squirming around.

You rocked your hips against his mouth, needing to chase the pleasure building inside your lower belly.

You reached a hand and placed it on his head, your fingers tangling in his locks, “Mh, that’s it, angel.” He murmured, “Fuck my tongue.”

And so you followed his orders, moving with deep and slow thrusts, just enough to send jolts of pleasure through your jody as Heeseung stuck his warm tongue inside of you.

Soon, your movements grew sloppier and faster, your lips parted “I’m— I’m gonna—“ And before you could even finish your sentence, your orgasm hit you, making your back arch off the bed, your legs shaking.

“This was so hot, baby.” Heeseung pressed a few more kitten licks on your clit before raising himself, caressing your thighs with his thumbs.

You looked up at him, your breath still uneven from the great amount of pleasure he had put you in.

He gave you a small smirk before reaching behind you and taking your forgotten book back. He flipped the pages “Spoiler, she gives him a BJ.” He said.

You chuckled, your body now recovered as you sat up “And you don’t want it?” You batted your eyelashes.

Heeseung took a steady breath. “Don’t tempt me.” He quickly searched further one the book, scanning lines and as he found something he liked, he pointed at it, a small laugh escaping his lips.

“As much as I love feeling your mouth around me, I want to feel you whole.” He murmured.

You sat up, crawling towards him to the edge of the bed “Maybe I want to.”

His breath caught in his throat, your vicinity and your words going straight to his cock “The way she does.”

Heeseung went back to the chapter where it all started, scanning the lines until he read “After making her see stars, he quickly unbuttoned his jeans, his gaze dangerous. ‘Your moans were so sweet, darling.’ He murmured, lowering his jeans and boxers, his cock sprung free.” He paused to gulp.

“He took the back of her head and moved her ‘till her neck bent in an awkward position, his red tip brushing against her lips.” He lowered the book.

“Is this how you want it? Rough?” Heeseung questioned and you nodded “Might as well follow the script.” You shrugged.

A low groan built in his throat, you tugged the hem of his shirt “This off?” Your eyes glistened with fake innocence.

Heeseung swiftly worked his shirt off, throwing it on the floor. It’s not like you had never seen him without a shirt on, you were used to him during beach dates or pool parties, but it was always so breathtaking.

Heeseung smirked, noticing the way your hungry stare was studying his chest. In the blink of an eye his shorts joined his shirt, his cock hard and angry, some pre-cum smeared over the tip.

“Be a good girl and open up for me,” He murmured as he climbed on the bed, his hand clutching the headboard to keep himself steady.

You quickly laid down, his hips hovering on your face. You looked up at him, doe-eyes looking ever so pure… And then you took him all in your mouth.

Heeseung threw his head back at the feeling of your tongue swirling around his cock, your head bobbing back and forth.

“Fuck,” He breathed out, his eyes meeting yours “So good, always so good.”

He caressed your cheek, his thumb grazing gently your skin as his hips bucked, meeting your pace.

He then pulled out, making you frown which was soon transformed when his lips met yours.

You could feel his cock twitching between your breasts, one of his hands squeezing it as his lips claimed yours.

The kiss was sloppy and messy, both of your tongues moving together, his spit down your throat.

He was delaying his orgasm, you noted, because he would’ve cum just from a few licks of yours.

And then he pulled his lips away from yours to thrust his throbbing length inside your mouth again “Mh… Yes— Shit. You’re so good, angel. Mouth made just for me.” He praised as he moved.

You hummed, sending waves of pleasure all through his body.

You gripped his thighs, bobbing your head faster, desperate to bring him the pleasure he deserved.

Heeseung understood and gripped the headboard with both of his hands, his hips thrusting inside of your warm and wet mouth. He hit the back of your throat, making you gag “I’m so close.” He breathed out.

At his words, you ignored the burning sensation building in your throat and hollowed your cheeks, with a few more thrusts he was emptying himself with a groan.

When he pulled out, you licked any drop of cum that spilled out your mouth and hummed happily.

Heeseung chuckled, leaning down again to capture your lips in a messy but loving kiss.

You playfully bit his bottom lip and he pulled away, yelping “Brat.”

You smiled at him and sat up, your voice just briefly hoarse “What happens next?”

Heeseung’s gaze darkened but his words were serious “You sure you want to continue?” He sighed softly, “Baby, I don’t want to hurt you.”

You smiled reassuringly and beckoned to the book “Time to change chapter.”

Heeseung let out a quiet groan, his cock visibly twitching “He fucks her against the wall.” He narrated what he had read “Hard, hand around her throat… is that what you want?”

Just the idea of doing it that way had you drenched down there, a shiver ran along your spine “Yes, Hee.” You breathed out, and to emphasise you add “I need it.”

“My nasty girl.” He practically growled as he got up from the bed, taking you with him and slammed you against the wall of his bedroom.

You yelped when your back hit the cold surface, the tapping of the raindrops on the window your background music.

Heeseung claimed your lips again as one of his hands snuck to squeeze your backside, his fingers kneading it.

You could again feel his hard cock pressing against your stomach, its warmth infecting your core.

“I’ve always wanted to fuck you,” He whispered on you throat “To have you milk my cock as I take you so hard you can’t say a coherent word.”

You rocked your hips against his, a clear effect of his words, your arms wrapped around his neck.

As if you weighed nothing, he raised you and you wrapped your legs around his sculpted waist.

Without any warning except for the aligning of his cock, he slammed deep inside of you, making you moan out.

Heeseung wasn’t the biggest cock you’ve seen, but he surely was the longest. You could feel him so deep, he could probably even reach your stomach if he tried hard enough.

You gripped the back of his neck like your life depended on it as he moved without any mercy, pulling all the way out until the tip just to slam back in, knocking the air out of your lungs.

He snuck one hand between your breasts and reached your throat, wrapping it around it. He gripped, not enough to choke you but good enough to make you light-headed.

His cock pounded hard into you, driving your brain into nothing but a puddle of his name, the one you screamed and moaned.

Your nails dug into his shoulders and he grunted, rewarding you with a deeper thrust, one you can almost feel in your centre, where the familiar knot was tightening.

Your eyes rolled back, just moans and whimpers escaping your lips.

Heeseung removed the hand from your throat and gripped your neck instead, letting your lungs that were screaming in protest fill with air up to their capacity.

He moved so your forehead pressed against his, both of you panting in each other’s mouth, your pussy clenching around him.

He groaned, he put one of his hands on the wall to steady himself as his hips kept bucking fast on yours, the sound of skin slapping mixing up with the rain’s.

“Is this what you like, baby?” Heeseung asked, moving his face to gently nip on your neck.

Your whole body felt sensitive from the attention he was giving it, from his small hickeys to the way he kept hitting your sweet spot “Y-yes.” You croaked out “Feels s’good, fuck.”

Heeseung grinned and stilled, twitching inside of you with a groan.

Before you could even comprehend it, he had you with your back on the mattress, never pulling out of you.

Your legs spread open, eager to feel him in you, to let him claim him.

“Fuck,” He grunted out, his pace never once faltering as he gripped your thighs to help himself, surely there would be marks the next day “Feels like heaven inside of you.”

You answered with a muffled whimper, not sure if your brain could even form out a word anymore.

He leaned on you, chest pressed against chest as he hid his face in the crook of his neck, his hot breath hitting your skin.

You rolled your eyes back, the pleasure building inside of you almost unbearable “Hee..” You breathed out, gripping his forearm to warn him where words couldn’t reach.

“I know,” He murmured, “Me too, baby…”

You cried out as you tried to delay your orgasm the same way he could do, but the pleasure was too much and before you could even try to resist more, you saw white.

Your back arched off the bed and squirmed around, your walls clenching tight around Heeseung who, despite your state, never stopped thrusting.

“Shit— Where do you want it?” He asked, because it was in some ways a first timer. First time going rough, first time going raw.

You couldn’t find your voice, your eyes watery from the impact of your orgasm, so you wrapped your legs around his waist, trapping him.

He frowned “Are you— Fuck.” You felt his cum filling you up to the brim, the sensation so sweet a gasp left your lips as he rocked slowly, adrenaline lowering.

After a couple of minutes where neither of you had the energy to move, Heeseung raised himself and offered you a warm smile “How was it?” He questioned as he stood up.

The sight of you, sprawled on his bed with both your seeds running down your thighs was enough to make him pop another boner, which earned him a side eye from you.

“Don’t worry, baby.” Heeseung chuckled, opening one of the drawers to retrieve one of his shirts and helping you in it. He then carefully cleaned you up, dried the sweat running down your forehead and after putting back on his shorts and underwear, he laid beside you.

One of his arms snuck around your shoulder, he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead “You’ll have to go commando, since I ripped your panties.” You giggled, hugging him tighter.

“I really enjoyed… this.” Heeseung smirked, “I bet.” He glanced at the book, now resting on the bedside table “Come to me when you start another book, yeah?”

Heeseung absentmindedly squeezed your breast through the shirt “I’ll make sure to recreate it all… even may steal some of the lines.”

Content that he wasn’t going to judge you for your strange likings, rather supporting them, you let yourself be held as the storm outside slowly died, the breeze hitting your skin as you fell asleep, safe in his arms.

[ddejavvu]

more best friend james with no boundaries headcanons please 🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽 like sirius and remus definitely side eye the two of you but they don’t ever make it noticeable 🫢 they’re just waiting for the two of you to finally get together 😵‍💫 like james definitely rests his hands in between your thighs when he’s cold and remus is always muttering to sirius how that is definitely not best friend behaviour

Sirius and Remus stop in tandem, beat up shoes stomping to a halt in the middle of the floor. It would be comical if their gazes weren't so scrutinizing and judgmental towards you where you're curled up in James's bed.

"Are we interrupting something?" Remus raises a brow at you where you lay pressed to James's chest, his hands wrapped around your waist and tucked into the space between your thighs. He'd been griping about the chill of the air against his hands after realizing they wouldn't stay tucked into the sleeves of his sweater, so when he'd pried your thighs apart to slip his hands between them, you'd let him get his fill of your body heat.

"Jus' the most boring book I've ever read," James drawls, popping his head lazily off of the pillow to stare at his friends, "Don't even know why she reads this shit, anyways."

"I read it because I like it," You hum, used to James's disdain of your more 'boring' (read: not dangerous, reckless, or foolish) hobbies, "But I'm more curious as to why you read it over my shoulder, James, if it's so boring and awful."

"Not much choice," He reasons, but you both know he could shut his eyes if he wanted to be free from your novel, and you squeeze your thighs together in hopes of pressing his hands painfully together as a reprimand.

James makes a sort of stunted groan as his knuckles scrape painfully together, but when you release your grip, he doesn't pull away. He merely settles his head back against the pillow, eyes sneakily roving over the page you're reading.

"Remus, a word." Sirius grabs the man by his right scarred hand, tugging him towards the closet. They disappear inside together, and when the door shuts behind them, and Sirius manages to swat the sleeve of his leather jacket out of his face, he stares at Remus with wide, urgent eyes.

"Did you see that?" Sirius gawps, as if maybe Remus hadn't noticed James's hands resting inches from your core, "That is not normal friend behavior?"

"I bet two galleons they kiss within the month," Remus wagers with a smirk on his face, and the expression is contagious where it transfers to Sirius right away.

"Within the week," Sirius solidifies his stance, holding a hand out for Remus to shake, "You've got a deal, Moony."

--

The moment the closet door shuts behind Remus and Sirius, you crane your neck to look backwards at James.

"They're not even trying to hide it anymore," You breathe, keeping your voice low so that the two boys can't hear you, "What do you think they're doing in there?"

"Kissing, probably," James snorts, "Pulling someone into a closet by the hand is not normal friend behavior."

"When are they just gonna give it up?" You scoff, twisting back around to resume reading, "They're so obvious."

"Dunno, love." James hums, leaning forwards to press a kiss to your shoulder where your tank top has slid off of the skin there. He readjusts his hands between your thighs, nestling them imperceptibly closer to your heated core, "Some people are just oblivious."

[rottenfyre]

⸻ ʙ ᴇ ʟ ᴏ ᴠ ᴇ ᴅ⸻

Pairing: Damian Wayne x Fem Reader Part 2

Headcanon: What if Damien's obsession continue even after you broke up with Dick? What if his obsession grow as he grow up?

Note: Reader is the same age as Dick. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

You never thought your life would look like this. Working in a small flower shop wasn’t what you dreamed of as a bright-eyed twenty-something in Gotham, but it was peaceful. You’d long since left the chaos of capes and vigilantes behind, including a certain acrobat who never could hold onto a girlfriend.

Now, at 33, you felt invisible. Your reflection in the mirror wasn’t what it used to be, and time had stolen some of the confidence you once had. You didn’t mind, though. You had your flowers, your little corner of the world, and the belief that love belonged to someone else’s story.

But then, there was him.

The first time he walked into the shop, you barely noticed him. Just another handsome guy buying flowers for some lucky person. It wasn’t unusual—flower shops brought in romantics, after all.

But then he came back.

And again.

And again.

Each time, he would only take flowers from you. If you weren’t behind the counter, he’d wait patiently, pretending to browse until you returned. If you were busy, he’d stand to the side, quiet and stoic, as though he had all the time in the world.

It became routine. He’d show up every Wednesday like clockwork, always choosing something simple—a bouquet of daisies, a handful of roses. He rarely spoke more than a few words. "I’ll take those." "How much for this?" "Thank you." His voice was low, smooth, almost hypnotic.

You didn’t think much of it. Maybe he was just particular. Maybe he liked the way you arranged the flowers. You didn’t dare entertain the idea that he might like you.

One day, as you were arranging tulips, your coworker Hannah nudged you with a mischievous grin.

“Have you noticed how Flower Guy only comes in when you’re here?”

You blinked. “What?”

“You know, the tall, handsome guy with black hair and green eyes? He’s got the whole brooding vibe going on. Like a tortured poet who secretly reads love sonnets at night.”

You laughed. “Hannah, please. He’s just a regular customer.”

“Oh, sure. Because regular customers stare at you like you hung the moon and only buy flowers from your hands. Totally normal.”

You rolled your eyes. “He doesn’t stare.”

“He does, though. It’s kinda romantic. Maybe he’s secretly in love with you.”

You snorted. “There’s no way. He’s probably got a girlfriend or a wife. Guys like him don’t…” You trailed off, shaking your head. “Anyway, I’m too old for him.”

Hannah scoffed. “You’re 33, not 83. And you’re gorgeous. I bet he’s into you.”

You brushed it off, but Hannah’s words stuck with you.

One Wednesday, he came in as usual, dressed in a worn leather jacket and dark jeans. His hair was slightly tousled, and he looked… well, annoyingly perfect, as always.

But this time, something was different. He didn’t just take his flowers and leave.

As you handed him a bouquet of sunflowers, he paused, his green eyes locking onto yours.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

You frowned, tilting your head. “Should I?”

He hesitated, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face. “No. I suppose not.”

There was a long silence, and then he said, “Would you have dinner with me?”

Your brain short-circuited. “Excuse me?”

“Dinner. With me. I’d like to take you out.”

You blinked, genuinely stunned. “I… don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“I mean, you’re—” You gestured vaguely at him. “You. And I’m—” You gestured vaguely at yourself. “Me.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t follow.”

“You’re young. And handsome. And probably have women falling all over you. Why would you want to go out with someone like me?”

His jaw tightened. “You don’t see yourself clearly, do you?”

You laughed nervously. “Look, I appreciate the offer, but I’m not looking for anything. Thank you, though.”

He didn’t argue. He just nodded, took his flowers, and left.

He didn’t stop coming. If anything, he doubled down.

One week, he showed up looking disheveled, his jacket frayed, his shoes scuffed. When he handed you the money for his bouquet, you noticed it was crumpled, like it had been fished out of a couch cushion.

“Are you okay?” you asked, genuinely concerned.

He sighed heavily. “It’s been… a rough few months.”

“Oh?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, his expression pained. “Kicked out of work. Rent’s overdue. Been crashing on a friend’s couch.”

Your heart ached for him. “That sounds awful. I’m so sorry.”

He shrugged. “It’s life.”

You couldn’t help but feel bad for him. Maybe that’s why, when he asked again if you’d have dinner with him, you hesitated before saying no.

But Damien was nothing if not persistent.

Eventually, you gave in. Mostly because he wouldn’t leave you alone.

“Fine,” you said one day, throwing your hands up. “One date. Just to get you to stop asking.”

A slow smile spread across his face. “I’ll pick you up at eight.”

That night, he showed up dressed sharply but not overly flashy, carrying a single rose. He held it out to you with a small smirk. “For you.”

The date was… perfect. Annoyingly perfect. He was charming, attentive, and surprisingly funny. He made you laugh more than you had in years, and by the end of the night, you found yourself wondering why you’d ever said no in the first place.

He never told you who he really was. Not that night, not the next, and not for months. But eventually, you pieced it together.

It happened when you were flipping through an old photo album, reminiscing about your time in Gotham. And there he was. A scowling 13-year-old boy glaring at the camera.

“Oh my God,” you muttered. “It’s him.”

When you confronted him about it, he didn’t even try to deny it. He just smirked, leaned back in his chair, and said, “Took you long enough.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “You knew me this whole time?”

“Of course.”

“And you didn’t think to mention it?”

He shrugged. “You didn’t remember me. I wanted a clean slate.”

You wanted to be mad, but the truth was… you didn’t regret giving him a chance.

By the time he kissed you for the first time, you realized that maybe, just maybe, love was still a part of your story after all.

Part 1. Part 3.

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ.

[amethystarachnid]

BET

⤷ JAMES B. “BUCKY” BARNES

ᯓ★ Pairing: James B. “Bucky” Barnes x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, angst and fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: not requested but taken from MARVEL bingo

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 10k (damn this surprises me too)

ᯓ★ Summary: When Bucky Barnes suddenly starts talking to you you don't think much of it and when he asks you out on a date you couldn't be happier, Bucky truly is everything you could ever want in a man, a man that really loves you...At least that's what you thought until you discovered that it was real all just a bet.

ᯓ★ TW(s): mentions of virginity and virginity loss, small mentions of a smut scene

ᯓ★ AU: college au

ᯓ★ Request: not requested

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests closed)

ᯓ★ Masterlist

ᯓ★ If you are a Charles Xavier fan click on this link!

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language and this isn’t proof read

The music is loud, pulsing through the walls of the frat house as Bucky sits slouched on a couch, one arm draped lazily over the back. The night is already wearing on him, but he knows he’s going to be here until Sam and Steve call it a night, which—based on the collection of red solo cups by their feet—might be a while.

They’re all trading stories from the semester, voices buzzing with that blend of laughter and cheap beer. Sam is in the middle of recounting his latest dare when he nudges Bucky’s arm, catching his attention.

“Bet you couldn’t last a month with someone like her,” Sam says, nodding toward the corner of the room.

Bucky glances up, following Sam’s gaze until he spots you. You’re perched near the bookshelf, alone and fidgeting with your drink as you flip through a book someone left behind. He’s seen you around campus before, usually with your nose buried in a novel or surrounded by a pile of textbooks. There’s something unassuming about you, something quiet and untouchable. His friends know he’s more the type to go for a party girl—someone loud, someone who doesn’t ask too many questions.

“What, the bookworm?” Bucky scoffs, raising an eyebrow. But his friends don’t let up, and soon Steve and Sam are egging him on.

“You’re always chasing the same type,” Steve chimes in. “What are you afraid of, that she’d actually challenge you?”

Bucky laughs, rolling his eyes. He knows he should shut it down, but their teasing digs at him, scratching at that competitive edge that’s always lurking just beneath his smirk.

“All right,” Bucky finally says, shrugging. “I’ll do it. One month.”

His friends exchange knowing grins, slapping him on the back. But as soon as the words leave his mouth, Bucky feels a strange knot settle low in his stomach—a feeling he’s not used to. He brushes it off. It’s just a game, a challenge. It’s not like he’s actually going to care.

The next day, you’re tucked into your usual corner in the library, surrounded by a fortress of books. You barely notice him when he walks up, leaning against the edge of the table with a casual confidence that doesn’t match the usual quiet of the space.

“Mind if I join you?” His voice is smooth, low enough that you almost have to lean in to hear him clearly.

You glance up, surprised to see Bucky Barnes standing there, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. You’ve seen him around campus—he’s hard to miss with that leather jacket and effortlessly messy hair, the type of guy who always has someone laughing beside him.

“Sure,” you murmur, unsure of what else to say as you move your books aside, offering him a seat. You’re used to people mostly ignoring you here. It’s your refuge, your sanctuary. So when he sits across from you, stretching out as if he belongs there, it feels jarringly out of place.

“You look like you’re buried in work,” he observes, nodding at the mountain of papers in front of you. “What’s got you so busy?”

You hesitate, but something in his easygoing manner convinces you to answer. “Just…assignments. Trying to keep up with everything.” You give him a small smile, your guard still up but feeling oddly curious.

“What’s your major?” he asks, and the question catches you off guard. Most people don’t bother to ask; they assume or don’t care enough to wonder. He listens as you talk about your studies, nodding, asking small questions. Before you know it, you’re telling him more than you intended, falling into an easy rhythm that surprises you.

It becomes a pattern. Over the next few weeks, he finds reasons to run into you—at the coffee shop, in the library, even in the quad between classes. Each time, he stays a little longer, asks a little more, his eyes holding yours with that subtle intensity he wears so well. At first, you’re wary, cautious of his attention. But Bucky is good, easing his way in like he has all the time in the world, his jokes and questions slowly weaving a thread of trust between you two.

And Bucky? He’s surprised at how much he finds himself drawn to you. Each time you laugh, he catches himself watching, feeling something strange and warm unfurl in his chest. There’s a gentleness in you, a quiet intelligence, that keeps him coming back even as he reminds himself this isn’t supposed to mean anything.

But the longer he spends time with you, the more he feels the weight of what he agreed to, creeping up on him every time he catches your smile, every time you look at him like he’s someone worth knowing.

He tells himself it’s just part of the bet. But deep down, he knows he’s starting to cross a line he never meant to touch.

It’s been a few weeks since Bucky started spending time with you, and against every reminder he gives himself, he’s found himself looking forward to it more than he wants to admit. He tells himself it’s harmless—he’s just getting to know you, just finding ways to pass the time. But he knows he’s lying, especially when he starts finding excuses to see you outside of the library or when he catches himself glancing at his phone, hoping for a text from you.

One night, back at the frat house, he’s lounging with Sam and Steve again, half-listening to their conversation when Sam nudges him.

“So, Barnes. How’s it going with the bookworm?” Sam asks with a knowing smirk. Bucky rolls his eyes, trying to brush it off, but Sam isn’t so easily deterred. “Don’t tell me you’re catching feelings.”

Bucky scoffs, forcing a laugh to keep the truth buried. “It’s going fine. Like I said, a month’s no problem.”

Sam exchanges a glance with Steve, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Let’s make this interesting then. If you really want to win this thing, you’ve got to take it further.”

Bucky’s jaw clenches. “Further?” He has a bad feeling about where this is going.

Steve raises his eyebrows. “Come on, Buck. You’ve been hanging out with her, sure, but we’re talking about actually making her fall for you. Ask her out, and, you know—” He raises an eyebrow meaningfully.

“Sleep with her,” Sam adds bluntly, laughing. “Seal the deal, and there’s two hundred bucks in it for you.”

Bucky hesitates, that uncomfortable knot tightening in his stomach again. He tells himself it’s just a stupid bet. He’s done things like this before—gotten close to people just to prove he could, had plenty of meaningless hookups that never meant a thing. He’s Bucky Barnes, the guy who doesn’t do commitment or complications. But for some reason, picturing it with you makes him feel…off.

“Fine,” he says after a beat, his voice steady, betraying nothing of the uncertainty he’s trying to ignore. “Two hundred bucks. Done.”

The next day, he texts you, his fingers hovering over the keys a little too long before he finally sends, Hey, you free Friday? Let me take you out somewhere nice.

When you see his message, your heart skips a beat. It’s been a while since anyone has asked you on an actual date, and even longer since you’ve felt genuinely excited about someone. Bucky’s been different from the start—warm, attentive, and surprisingly easy to talk to. You’ve caught yourself looking forward to his company, replaying the moments he laughs at one of your jokes or leans in close enough for you to catch a hint of his cologne.

After a second, you type back, Yeah, I’d love to! You add a smiley face, feeling almost giddy as you press send.

The days leading up to Friday drag by, each one marked with bursts of nerves and anticipation. You spend a little more time getting ready than usual, finally deciding on a simple but pretty dress that makes you feel confident. When Bucky picks you up, his usual leather jacket replaced with a dark button-up, you feel a thrill of excitement. He looks genuinely happy to see you, his eyes scanning over you appreciatively as he gives you a lopsided grin.

“You look amazing,” he says, his gaze warm. There’s something softer in his eyes, something that makes you blush.

“Thanks,” you mumble, smiling as you walk beside him. He leads you to a small Italian place tucked away from campus, the kind of cozy, dimly lit restaurant you wouldn’t have expected him to know about. The conversation flows easily between you two, laughter spilling out as you talk about classes, hometowns, and childhood memories.

The night feels magical, almost surreal, and you start to wonder if maybe, just maybe, there’s something real here. Every time his hand brushes against yours, a spark shoots up your spine. And when he reaches across the table, fingers lightly grazing your wrist as he laughs at something you said, your heart flutters in a way that’s both thrilling and terrifying.

After dinner, he suggests taking a walk, and soon you’re strolling through the quiet streets, the chill of the night air making you shiver just slightly. Without a word, Bucky slips his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. It feels so natural, like you belong there.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been on a date this nice,” you admit, smiling up at him, your voice soft.

He chuckles, though it sounds slightly strained. “Really? I find that hard to believe.”

You shrug, trying to brush it off. “I guess I’ve just never…met anyone like you before.”

There’s a flash of something in his eyes—guilt, maybe, or regret. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced with that charming grin. He steps closer, his arm slipping from your shoulders, and you hold your breath as he cups your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

“You’re pretty amazing, you know that?” he murmurs, his voice low.

You feel like the world has stopped, your heart pounding in your chest. This is the moment you’ve been dreaming of, the moment where everything finally falls into place.

But for Bucky, something sharp and painful twists inside him. He can feel the weight of what he’s doing pressing down on him, can see the way your eyes look at him with such unguarded trust, and it’s enough to make his stomach turn. He’s never felt guilty over a stupid bet before, but right now, the idea of hurting you feels unbearable.

“Hey,” he says softly, his hand still on your cheek. “You trust me, right?”

Your eyes widen, and you nod slowly, too caught up in the moment to notice the tension in his gaze. “Yeah,” you whisper, a small smile forming on your lips.

He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours as he takes a steadying breath. “Good,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady. Because if he’s going to go through with this, he tells himself he has to believe that none of it matters—that he won’t let himself care. But even as he kisses you, his lips soft and warm against yours, he knows he’s lying to himself.

The days after that first date drift into a series of moments that feel surreal, almost like they’re happening to someone else. You find yourself checking your phone at odd times, waiting for his texts, smiling down at your screen whenever his name lights up. Bucky is a part of your routine now, and it feels strange, thrilling even, like there’s this magnetic force that draws you to him despite every bit of caution you try to hold onto.

Every time you’re with him, the outside world fades. He makes you laugh with stories about his friends, leaning in close, his voice warm and low as if he’s sharing some secret just for you. You catch yourself stealing glances when he’s not looking—at the way his jaw clenches when he’s lost in thought or how his eyes soften when he looks at you, a mix of curiosity and something you can’t quite name.

It’s after one of your study sessions at the library that Bucky invites you over to his dorm room for the first time. He tells you he’s got some old movies you’ve probably never seen, and, honestly, he’s right—you’d never pictured Bucky as the type to own black-and-white classics, but that’s exactly what he has, a surprisingly large collection lined up on a low shelf near his TV. He insists you pick one, and soon you’re sitting side by side on his couch, your legs tucked up beneath you, feeling almost shy in the soft glow of the screen.

The movie starts, but his arm stretches along the back of the couch, barely brushing your shoulders. The faintest touch sends electricity through you, but you stay quiet, not wanting to ruin the moment. Then, halfway through the movie, he shifts, glancing at you.

“You can get closer, you know,” he murmurs, his eyes glinting with something mischievous yet gentle.

Your heart flutters as you scoot closer, until you’re tucked into his side, his arm draped around you in a way that feels possessive yet comforting. He smells faintly like cedar and something distinctly him, a scent that’s becoming familiar. Before you know it, your head is resting on his shoulder, his hand absently tracing patterns on your arm, and you feel like you could stay there forever.

Time slips by in a collection of small, perfect moments. There are more dates—little coffee shops tucked away from campus, a bookstore where he buys you a copy of a novel you mentioned in passing, a late-night diner where you both end up after laughing so hard that you can’t breathe. You never expected him to be so attentive, so eager to listen to your stories and learn every detail about your life. He even surprises you with your favorite snack on study nights, tossing it to you with a grin before leaning in close to steal a bite for himself.

One evening, after a long day of classes and a surprise text from Bucky inviting you over, you find yourself curled up on his couch once again. This time, he’s stretched out beside you, one arm tucked under his head while the other rests around your shoulders. His fingers brush against your arm absently, and you can’t help but notice how natural this feels. It’s terrifying, too, the way he seems to melt into your life so effortlessly, as if he’s always been there.

You glance up at him, catching him mid-laugh as he recounts an embarrassing story about Sam, who apparently tried to show off on a skateboard and ended up with a sprained ankle.

“You’re terrible,” you tease, nudging him with your shoulder, though you’re laughing too.

“Oh, come on. It was hilarious,” he insists, grinning down at you. He tilts his head, his gaze dropping to your lips for just a second, and your laughter fades as something shifts between you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask softly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He shrugs, the corner of his mouth twitching in a faint smile. “I just…can’t believe you’re real sometimes.”

The words catch you off guard, and for a moment, you’re too stunned to reply. But then he leans down, his lips brushing yours with a tenderness that makes your chest ache. The kiss deepens slowly, each touch feeling like a promise, and you lose yourself in the warmth of his embrace, forgetting every doubt, every insecurity that ever kept you guarded.

As the weeks pass, you find yourself falling harder than you ever expected. Bucky seems to find every crack in your armor, every scar and hidden fear, and instead of pulling away, he draws closer, listening to your stories and letting you into his own in ways that leave you breathless. He’s there to listen on your tough days, wrapping his arms around you and murmuring words of reassurance. He’s there on your good days, too, laughing with you, pressing kisses to your forehead as if he can’t believe his luck.

One night, you’re back on his couch, cuddled up under a thick blanket as a storm rages outside, the rain tapping against the windows. You’re nestled against him, his arm holding you close, and he’s quiet, his fingers tracing patterns along your shoulder absentmindedly.

“Bucky?” you ask, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Hmm?” he murmurs, his gaze dropping to yours, his eyes soft and warm in the dim light.

“Thank you,” you say, your voice barely a whisper. “For everything.”

He frowns slightly, shifting so he can look at you fully. “You don’t have to thank me for that,” he says, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Being with you…it’s the easiest thing in the world.”

You smile, warmth spreading through your chest, and he kisses you again, slow and soft, like he’s savoring every second. It’s moments like this that make you feel like maybe, just maybe, you’re finally safe with someone, that this is something real.

But for Bucky, each moment with you is a double-edged sword. He’s never felt this way before—this calm, this…connected. Every time you laugh at one of his jokes or lean against him, trusting and unguarded, he feels that awful twist of guilt, the memory of that stupid bet lurking in the back of his mind.

He’s supposed to ask for more. That’s what Sam and Steve were expecting, weren’t they? They wanted him to win the bet, to seal the deal and prove he could pull this off. But every time he thinks about going further, about pushing this relationship into a place where he can’t turn back, he feels that nagging ache, that quiet, gnawing feeling that he’s crossing a line he can’t uncross.

He knows he needs to tell you. He needs to come clean, but every time he opens his mouth, the words get stuck in his throat. You look at him with those bright, trusting eyes, and he can’t bring himself to shatter the way you see him. So he holds his silence, hoping that somehow, he can bury the truth forever, that maybe you’ll never have to know.

One evening, as you’re lying together on his couch, you let out a contented sigh, resting your head on his chest as his hand traces lazy patterns along your back.

“Bucky?” you whisper, your voice soft.

He glances down at you, his fingers pausing as he meets your gaze. “Yeah?”

You hesitate, then take a steadying breath. “I…I think I’m falling for you.”

The words hang in the air, vulnerable and open, and for a second, his face goes still, his eyes widening just slightly. Then, his expression softens, and he tightens his arms around you, his hand coming up to cup your cheek.

“You have no idea how much that means to me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. But as he kisses you, the warmth of his touch hiding the flicker of guilt behind his eyes, a single thought haunts him.

She deserves the truth.

That night, Bucky barely sleeps, lying awake with the knowledge that he’s in far too deep to ever come out of this unscathed. Every soft breath you take beside him reminds him of how much he’s risking by staying silent. He knows he has to tell you, but he’s terrified—terrified that this fragile, beautiful thing you’ve built together will shatter, that you’ll look at him with betrayal instead of trust.

In the morning, he makes a decision. He’ll find a way to tell you, he promises himself, but he wants one more day, one more memory before he risks everything. Just one last perfect day where he can pretend that none of it was ever a lie.

So he takes you out, leading you down to the pier just as the sun begins to set, casting the sky in hues of pink and gold. You laugh, leaning into him, and he wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur, watching the waves lap against the shore.

“Yeah,” he replies, his voice soft. “It is.”

But as he stands there, holding you close, he knows that the beauty of this moment is fleeting, that the truth waiting in his chest is too big to ignore. And tonight, when he finally gathers the courage to tell you, he knows there’s a chance he’ll lose you forever. But for now, he lets himself savor this last quiet moment, memorizing the feeling of you in his arms, the warmth of your laughter as it fills the air.

For now, he holds onto the hope that maybe, somehow, you’ll understand.

The sunset fades, leaving the world painted in muted purples and blues, but neither of you seem ready to break away from each other. Bucky holds you close, feeling the steady rhythm of your breath against his chest as if it’s his own. He knows he should say something—that he needs to say something—but the words seem so impossible now, tangled up in his chest. The truth would ruin this moment, shatter whatever he’s built with you. And so, he tells himself it can wait just a little longer.

As the evening slips into night, Bucky leads you back to his dorm room, his hand intertwined with yours. You can feel the heat of his palm, the way his fingers wrap around yours as if he never wants to let go. The air feels charged, every touch electric, each shared glance simmering with something that feels fragile and exhilarating. Neither of you says much, as though speaking would break the quiet spell between you.

Once you’re inside, Bucky hesitates. He turns to you, his expression vulnerable, softer than you’ve ever seen it. "You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand.

“I want to,” you say, the words escaping before you can even think. There’s no hesitation in your voice, only a gentle certainty that makes his chest tighten. The way you look at him, so open and trusting, makes his heart ache with a mix of guilt and longing.

Bucky’s eyes search yours, lingering for a moment that stretches into forever. He reaches up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before his fingers trail down to your jaw, cradling your face as if you’re something fragile and precious. Slowly, he leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s softer than any before. It’s unhurried, tender, as if he’s savoring every second.

The kiss deepens, and you can feel yourself melting into him, your heart pounding so hard you think it might burst. His hands move to your waist, steady and grounding, and he pulls you closer until there’s no space left between you. You can feel the strength of him, the warmth radiating through his clothes, and it makes your head spin.

Before long, you find yourselves tangled together on his bed, the world outside fading into nothingness. Each kiss is deeper than the last, each touch laced with a longing neither of you can deny. There’s a gentleness to Bucky’s movements, a quiet patience as he explores the curve of your shoulder, the softness of your waist, as if he’s memorizing every inch of you. He’s slow and careful, constantly looking at you as if to make sure this is what you want.

“Are you okay?” he whispers, his voice rough with barely-contained emotion.

You nod, feeling breathless but certain. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

His eyes darken, filled with a tenderness that makes your chest ache, and then he’s kissing you again, deeper this time, his hands skimming over your skin with a reverence that leaves you feeling cherished. You lose track of time, surrendering to the way he makes you feel—safe, wanted, like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

When you finally fall back against the bed, your bodies wrapped around each other, you’re exhausted yet filled with a warmth that feels all-encompassing. The reality of what just happened settles in, but instead of feeling nervous, you feel at peace, secure in the quiet intimacy that has grown between you.

Bucky shifts beside you, pulling you closer until your head rests against his chest, his arm draped protectively around your shoulders. The steady thump of his heartbeat lulls you into a peaceful daze, and you feel his fingers trace small circles on your back, soothing and grounding.

You’re both quiet for a long time, the silence comfortable as you bask in each other’s presence. Eventually, though, you feel a need to tell him something you’ve been holding back, something you hadn’t planned on revealing but that feels right to share in this moment.

“Bucky,” you begin softly, lifting your head to look at him. He gazes down at you, his eyes warm and attentive, as if you’re the only thing he sees. “I…I want you to know that this was my first time.”

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, you’re afraid he’ll pull away, that he’ll think you were too inexperienced or that you should have told him sooner. But he doesn’t flinch or hesitate. His hand moves up to gently cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin.

“Your first?” he echoes, his voice filled with a mixture of surprise and something that sounds almost like reverence.

You nod, feeling your cheeks heat as you look down, suddenly self-conscious. “Yeah…I wanted it to be with someone who made me feel safe. Someone I trusted.”

Bucky’s chest rises and falls slowly as he takes this in, his expression softening. He seems almost humbled, like he’s just been given something rare and delicate. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead before resting his own against yours.

“You have no idea how much that means to me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. There’s a vulnerability in his gaze, as if he’s holding back a hundred things he wants to say but can’t find the words for.

You smile, the last traces of your nervousness melting away. “Thank you, Bucky…for making it so special.”

He pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you like he’s afraid to let you go. “I’d do anything to make you feel special,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin.

You nestle into his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, feeling safe and cherished in a way you never have before. And as you lie there, drifting between sleep and wakefulness, you wonder if this is what it feels like to be truly, deeply in love.

But as you fall asleep in his arms, Bucky lies awake, his heart heavy with the weight of everything he’s kept from you. He knows he should be content, that he should just let himself savor this night and the closeness you’ve shared. But the memory of that stupid, careless bet gnaws at him, a dark cloud looming over everything.

He runs a hand through his hair, staring up at the ceiling, feeling torn between the desire to protect you from the truth and the fear that he’s already crossed a line he can’t uncross. The realization that you trusted him enough to give him something so deeply personal makes the weight of his lie even heavier, almost unbearable. He swallows hard, tightening his hold on you as he resolves to tell you the truth—soon, somehow, even if it means risking everything.

But tonight, he lets himself stay silent. He closes his eyes, breathing in the scent of your hair, the warmth of your body against his, and allows himself to believe, if only for a moment, that this can last.

The morning sunlight filters softly through the blinds, casting warm, golden patterns across the bed. You stir beside him, your movements gentle as you wake up, and Bucky watches you with a quiet awe, his heart racing as he takes in the peaceful expression on your face. For a moment, it feels like he’s exactly where he’s meant to be.

You blink up at him, your face lighting up with a sleepy smile that makes his chest tighten.

“Good morning,” you murmur, your voice soft and a little shy, as if the night is still too fresh, too beautiful to fully believe.

He grins, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Morning,” he replies, his voice low and warm. His fingers trail down to your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, and you squeeze back, a shared moment of silent understanding passing between you.

The morning stretches on in a gentle haze of quiet touches and soft words. Bucky makes you coffee, insisting you stay curled up under his blanket while he brings it over to you, and you laugh, watching him with a mix of affection and disbelief. This side of him—the playful, thoughtful side—is something you never expected to see, and it makes you fall for him even harder.

You’re both lounging on his bed, your legs tangled together, talking in low voices about everything and nothing. He tells you stories about his childhood, tales about him and Steve getting into trouble, and you share your own memories, laughing as he reacts with wide eyes and exaggerated shock.

It feels so real, so natural, that you almost forget about everything outside this room, about the possibility that this could be something fleeting. You feel like you’ve found a place that’s safe, a person who makes you feel more like yourself than you ever have before.

But in the quiet moments, when you catch him staring at you with that far-off look, you wonder if there’s something he’s not telling you, a hesitation lurking behind his gaze. You don’t press, not wanting to shatter the peace between you. But part of you wonders if you’re seeing a glimpse of something deeper, something you’re not yet ready to confront.

As you leave his dorm room later that morning, he kisses you softly, lingering as if he’s trying to memorize the taste of your lips, the feel of your hand in his. There’s an unspoken promise in his touch, a silent assurance that this isn’t the end.

Later that afternoon, you make your way back to the frat house, humming softly as you climb the steps to Bucky's door. You left your notebook there, a little blue book you’re pretty sure you’ll need for your upcoming assignment. You barely slept last night, too caught up in the warmth of his touch, the memory of his whispered words that lingered long after you left his dorm this morning. You’re nervous, too; you feel so much for him that it scares you.

As you approach his room, laughter drifts out into the hallway, low voices filtering through the partially open door. You recognize Bucky’s laugh, the familiar sound stirring warmth in your chest, but the laughter feels different, carefree and loud. And then you hear a familiar voice—Sam’s—cutting through, low and joking.

"Guess she fell for it pretty hard, huh?" Sam’s voice sounds amused, lighthearted, as if he’s talking about something trivial.

You freeze, your hand hovering inches from the door. Something about his tone makes you hesitate, a strange, unsettling feeling creeping into your chest.

"Come on, Bucky," Sam presses, “don’t act all innocent now. I saw you this morning, looking like you just won the lottery.” You can hear the grin in his voice, a laugh bubbling beneath it. “So? How was it?”

Bucky laughs, the sound uncomfortable, but he doesn’t argue. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, his voice casual, light. “It was… good.”

You feel a stab in your chest, a faint panic that tells you to leave, to walk away before you hear any more. But your feet don’t move, and you find yourself listening, every word driving another splinter into your heart.

Steve’s voice joins in, chuckling. “Well, you earned it, man. She had no clue, huh?”

“No clue,” Bucky murmurs, his voice softer now, almost unreadable. You can picture him there, maybe rubbing the back of his neck the way he does when he’s nervous. But the words are there, undeniable.

Sam laughs again, louder this time. “And hey, bet’s a bet,” he says, and then there’s a pause before you hear the unmistakable rustling of bills being exchanged. “Two hundred dollars, as promised. Can’t say you didn’t earn it, though—you even managed to get her into bed. Didn’t think you had it in you, but here we are!”

Your vision blurs, the words echoing in your mind, distorting into something raw and jagged. Every affectionate touch, every gentle kiss, every whispered promise from the past few weeks twists into something ugly, something unrecognizable. You feel sick, the image of Bucky’s earnest smile, his soft words about wanting to make you feel special, tainted beyond repair. Everything you felt for him, the trust you’d handed him so freely, crumbles beneath the weight of their laughter.

Slowly, you turn and leave, gripping the strap of your bag tightly as you make your way out of the frat house. You don’t let yourself cry, not yet, not when you still feel the echo of his betrayal throbbing in your chest, too raw, too painful to acknowledge fully.

Hours later, you’re back in your dorm room, your heart aching as you sit in silence, the truth settling over you in waves. Part of you wants to believe it was a misunderstanding, that maybe there’s an explanation you’re missing. But the memory of their laughter, the casual way Sam handed him that money, makes the truth impossible to ignore.

A knock on your door interrupts your thoughts, and your heart skips a beat as you hear Bucky’s voice calling your name softly from the hallway. It’s just him now, his voice hesitant, almost as if he senses that something’s wrong. You take a steadying breath, steeling yourself before you answer the door.

When you open it, Bucky’s eyes light up, and he steps forward, a soft smile on his face as he reaches for your hand. “Hey, you,” he murmurs, his voice warm. But when he sees the look on your face, he pauses, his smile fading. “What’s wrong?”

For a moment, you can’t bring yourself to speak. You can only look at him, trying to reconcile the gentle, caring person you thought you knew with the man who took a bet to seduce you. You pull your hand away from his, ignoring the confusion in his gaze as he watches you.

“Were you even going to tell me?” Your voice comes out quieter than you intended, a dull ache threading through every word. “Or were you just going to take the money and pretend it never happened?”

Bucky blinks, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Tell you what? I—I don’t understand.”

A bitter laugh escapes your lips, and you look away, wrapping your arms around yourself as if it’ll keep you from falling apart. “Don’t play dumb, Bucky. I heard you. I was at the frat house earlier, and I heard everything.”

He freezes, his face going pale, and you see the truth in his eyes, clear as day. He opens his mouth, stumbling over his words. “Y/N, I—I didn’t… I didn’t mean for you to find out like this.”

The admission twists the knife deeper, and you feel yourself trembling as you look back at him, tears stinging your eyes. “So, it’s true, then? All of it? This whole… this whole thing was just for some stupid bet?”

He reaches for you, his expression desperate, his hands hovering just inches from your arms. “Y/N, please. Just let me explain. It wasn’t like that, I swear. It started that way, but then… then it became real. I fell for you, okay? Everything we did, everything we shared—it was real.”

You shake your head, pulling away from him, the anger and betrayal simmering beneath the surface. “Real? You think that makes this okay? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Your voice breaks, and a tear slips down your cheek before you can stop it. “I trusted you, Bucky. I thought… I thought you cared about me.”

His face crumples, and he takes a step closer, his hand reaching out as if to wipe away the tear on your cheek. “I do care about you. More than anything, Y/N. That’s why I wanted to tell you, I just—”

“Wanted to tell me?” you interrupt, your voice shaking. “When, Bucky? After you cashed in your winnings? After I found out on my own?”

The silence stretches between you, heavy and unbearable, and Bucky’s shoulders sag as he looks away, guilt etched deeply into his face.

“Do you even realize how humiliating this is?” you continue, your voice a mixture of anger and heartbreak. “I trusted you with something… something I’d never given anyone. And the whole time, it was just part of a game to you.”

His eyes snap back to yours, filled with anguish, his voice barely a whisper. “It was never just a game, not after the first night. I swear, Y/N, I was going to tell you everything. I just… I didn’t want to lose you.”

“You didn’t want to lose me?” you repeat, laughing bitterly. “You lost me the moment you made that bet. You had no right to… to play with me like that, to make me believe that any of it was real.”

He looks at you, his blue eyes full of desperation, his voice breaking. “Y/N, please. I know I messed up. I know I hurt you, but I need you to believe me when I say I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“Just stop,” you whisper, the weight of it all crashing over you. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to make me feel sorry for you when you’re the one who lied.”

Bucky’s face falls, and he drops his gaze, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I know. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But please, just… give me a chance to make it right.”

Your heart aches, torn between the memories of every gentle touch, every whispered word, and the undeniable truth of his betrayal. Part of you wants to believe him, wants to believe that somewhere in all of this, there was something real. But the pain is too deep, the wound too fresh, and you don’t know if you can ever look at him the same way again.

“I can’t do this,” you say, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I can’t just forget what you did. You hurt me, Bucky. And right now, I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

He flinches, as if your words physically hurt him, and he nods slowly, a look of resignation in his eyes. “I understand. I’ll… I’ll leave, if that’s what you want.”

You nod, wrapping your arms around yourself as he takes a step back, his gaze lingering on you one last time before he turns and walks toward the door. Just as he reaches it, he pauses, his hand resting on the doorknob as he glances back at you, his voice soft, broken.

“For what it’s worth, Y/N… I love you. I know I don’t deserve to say that, but it’s the truth.”

You don’t reply, staring at him with tear-filled eyes as he finally steps out of your dorm, the door closing softly behind him. The silence that follows is deafening, and you sink to the floor, the weight of everything crashing down as you realize that the person you thought you loved never truly existed.

The days blur together in a haze of heartbreak and emptiness. You go through the motions, attending classes, completing assignments, and showing up to study groups, but it all feels mechanical, like you’re on autopilot. It’s as if something inside you has shut down, leaving only an echo of who you were before you met him, before he became the center of your world.

It doesn’t take long for your friends to notice the change. They ask if you’re okay, if something happened, if maybe you just need a break. But you give them the same answer each time—a nod, a small smile, and an assurance that you’re just tired. It’s easier than explaining the mess of emotions tangled inside you, the hurt that seems too big to fit into words.

Late at night, lying alone in your dorm room, you can still feel the warmth of his arms around you, the softness of his voice in the quiet hours when he’d whisper promises you thought would last forever. The memory feels cruel now, tainted by the knowledge that it was all built on a lie. And yet, despite everything, you miss him. You hate yourself for it, but you miss the way he looked at you, the way he made you feel safe, special, as if you were the only person in the world who mattered.

Bucky isn’t doing any better. In fact, he’s a mess. Days have passed, but the guilt, the emptiness—it lingers, gnawing at him, refusing to let him move on. He can barely sleep, haunted by the look in your eyes, the betrayal, the hurt he put there. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees you, hears the way your voice cracked when you told him you didn’t know who he was anymore. And the worst part is, he doesn’t blame you. He knows he did this, that he ruined everything, and now he has to live with the consequences.

Sam and Steve notice almost immediately. Bucky, the confident, charming guy they’d known for years, looks hollow, as if he’s carrying a weight he can’t shake. He barely speaks, keeps to himself, and they rarely see him at the frat house anymore. Instead, he spends most of his time shut up in his dorm, a shadow of the person he used to be.

One evening, as the sun dips below the horizon, Sam and Steve exchange a glance, silently agreeing that they need to intervene. They knock on his door, and when he doesn’t answer, Sam pushes it open, finding him lying on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

“Hey, man,” Sam says, stepping inside. Steve follows, closing the door behind them as they both approach Bucky’s bed.

Bucky doesn’t react right away, his gaze still fixed on the ceiling. But eventually, he sits up, running a hand through his hair, looking exhausted and defeated.

“What’s up, guys?” he mumbles, though his voice lacks any real curiosity.

“We should be asking you that,” Steve says, his tone softer than usual. “You haven’t been yourself lately. Ever since things ended with Y/N, it’s like… you’re a completely different person.”

At the sound of your name, Bucky’s face falls, and he lets out a long, shaky breath. “Yeah,” he says quietly, almost to himself. “That’s because I am.”

Sam frowns, studying Bucky’s expression, the guilt etched into every line of his face. “Look, man, we didn’t mean for things to get this serious. But if you cared about her, really cared… why didn’t you just tell her the truth from the start?”

Bucky shakes his head, his hands gripping the edge of the bed so tightly his knuckles turn white. “I don’t know,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “I was scared, I guess. I knew I’d screwed up, and every time I tried to tell her, I just… couldn’t. I thought I could fix things, somehow, make it up to her without her ever finding out.” He lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Stupid, right?”

Steve sighs, sitting beside him on the bed. “Not stupid, just… a mistake. A big one, yeah, but you’re not the first guy to mess up. You’re just… Bucky, this isn’t like you. I’ve never seen you like this over anyone before.”

Bucky looks away, a sad smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That’s because I’ve never felt this way before. Not like this. I love her, Steve. And I threw it all away over some stupid bet that meant nothing. I hurt her in ways I can’t even fix.”

Sam places a hand on his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. “So what are you gonna do about it? You can’t just sit here, wallowing. If she meant that much to you, then maybe you owe it to her—and to yourself—to try and make it right.”

Bucky laughs, but it’s empty, hollow. “And how am I supposed to do that, Sam? She told me herself she doesn’t know who I am. She doesn’t trust me. I don’t deserve another chance.”

Steve exchanges a look with Sam, and then he says, “Maybe. But you can’t just give up without trying. If you really love her, Bucky, you have to prove it. Show her that you’re not just the guy who hurt her, that you’re willing to fight for her. And if she doesn’t take you back… at least you’ll know you tried.”

Bucky sighs, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stares at the floor. “I don’t know if she’ll ever forgive me. I don’t even know if I deserve it.”

Sam crosses his arms, his expression softening. “Look, man, I get that you’re hurting. But don’t you think she’s hurting, too? She’s probably out there feeling just as broken, wondering if anything between you was ever real.”

Bucky swallows hard, his chest tightening at the thought. He knows you’re hurting, knows you trusted him with something precious, something he didn’t deserve. And knowing that he’s the reason for your pain… it’s a feeling he wouldn’t wish on anyone.

Over the next few days, Bucky wrestles with himself, caught between the fear of making things worse and the desire to show you that he’s truly sorry, that he wants to be the man you thought he was. He writes and rewrites texts he never sends, shows up outside your dorm but never works up the courage to knock. He’s terrified, but he can’t ignore the way his heart aches for you, the empty, gnawing feeling that only seems to grow with each passing day.

Finally, he decides to try one last time. He doesn’t know if you’ll listen, doesn’t know if you’ll even give him a chance. But he has to try—to give you the truth, no matter how painful it might be.

And so, as the evening sun begins to dip below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over campus, Bucky finds himself standing outside your dorm, his heart pounding as he gathers the courage to knock. He knows this is his last chance, that this is the moment that will decide everything. And he only hopes, as he takes a deep breath and raises his hand to the door, that you’ll give him the chance to show you that he’s not the man who hurt you—that he’s ready to fight for you, no matter what it takes.

The knock on your door is soft, almost hesitant, but it’s enough to pull you from your thoughts. You’ve been lying on your bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to find the strength to move forward, to somehow patch yourself up after everything that happened. When you open the door, you see him standing there, his eyes filled with an uncertainty that’s almost heartbreaking. He’s gripping a small notebook in his hands—your notebook, the one you left in his room—and his gaze is fixed on you with a desperation you’ve never seen before.

“Hi,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You don’t reply right away, the sight of him dredging up the familiar ache in your chest. Part of you wants to slam the door and hide, to keep yourself safe from any more hurt. But you don’t. Instead, you meet his gaze, forcing yourself to remain steady.

“Hi,” you reply, your voice guarded.

He shifts on his feet, glancing down at the notebook before offering it to you. “I, uh… you left this. Thought you might need it.”

You take it from him, feeling the familiar weight of it in your hands. “Thanks.”

A heavy silence hangs between you, one that neither of you seems willing to break. Bucky swallows, his face creased with an anxious, uncertain look that makes him seem vulnerable in a way you’ve never seen before.

“Can we… can we talk?” he asks, his voice almost pleading. “Please. I know I don’t deserve it, but I just need to say a few things. If you don’t want to listen, I’ll understand, and I’ll leave you alone. I just… I need you to know the truth.”

You hesitate, but finally, you nod, stepping back to let him into your room. He steps inside, closing the door softly behind him, and takes a seat in the small chair by your desk while you remain standing, arms crossed protectively over your chest.

For a moment, he just looks at you, his gaze heavy with regret. Then he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“I know you have every right to hate me,” he starts, his voice barely steady. “I know I messed up in ways I can’t even fix. And I know… I know what I did was horrible. I just—” He swallows, his throat tight. “I just need you to know that it wasn’t all a lie. When we started this… when we first got close, I didn’t expect any of this to happen. I didn’t think I’d feel the way I did.”

You look down, his words stirring a fresh wave of pain in your chest. “But it was a bet, Bucky,” you murmur, your voice trembling. “You… you did all of that just to win some money. To you, it was just a game.”

He flinches, guilt flashing in his eyes, and he nods. “I know. I won’t make excuses for it—I was stupid, and I hurt you. But somewhere along the way, it stopped being about the bet. It stopped being a game. And I started… I started caring about you, more than I’ve ever cared about anyone.”

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you force yourself to keep your voice steady. “Then why didn’t you just tell me the truth?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair again, his expression tortured. “Because I was scared. I was terrified that you’d look at me the way you’re looking at me now, that I’d lose you. I know that doesn’t make it better, but it’s the truth. I tried to find the right time, tried to find the right words, but I kept putting it off, thinking maybe… maybe I could make it up to you before you ever found out.” He looks down, his voice breaking. “But that was stupid. I should’ve just been honest with you from the start.”

You take a shaky breath, feeling the full weight of everything he’s saying. Part of you wants to believe him, wants to forgive him, but the wound he left is still fresh, still raw. “I trusted you, Bucky,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “I thought… I thought what we had was real.”

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with a desperate sincerity that takes you off guard. “It was real. For me, it was real. And I know that doesn’t change anything, but I need you to know that. I never meant to hurt you, and I’ll spend as long as it takes to make it up to you if you’ll let me.”

You study him for a long moment, searching his face, trying to find some indication of sincerity, something to show that he’s truly sorry. And when you see the remorse in his eyes, the sadness that mirrors your own, you feel something in your chest soften, just slightly.

“Bucky,” you begin softly, forcing yourself to stay strong, “I can’t just go back to how things were. I can’t pretend this didn’t happen. You hurt me more than anyone ever has, and it’s going to take time for me to get past that.”

He nods, his expression resigned, but he doesn’t look away. “I understand. And I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. I just… I just want the chance to prove to you that I’m more than the guy who hurt you. Even if we can’t go back, I want to be there for you, even if it’s just as a friend.”

You let his words sink in, feeling a flicker of hope amidst the ache in your heart. Part of you still longs for what you had, for the closeness you shared, but you know that you can’t rush back into it. If Bucky truly wants a second chance, he’ll have to earn it, piece by piece, day by day.

“Maybe…” You hesitate, feeling vulnerable but determined. “Maybe we can start as friends. Just… friends. No promises, no expectations. If you’re willing to do that, to rebuild things from the ground up… then maybe, someday, I’ll be able to trust you again.”

Relief floods his face, and he nods, a small, hopeful smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll take that. Anything you’re willing to give, I’ll take it. I’ll prove to you that I can be better. I’ll prove that I’m worth your trust.”

You give him a tentative smile, and for the first time in days, you feel a flicker of hope. It’s small and fragile, but it’s enough to remind you that maybe healing is possible.

Over the next few weeks, Bucky becomes a constant but careful presence in your life. He shows up when you need help with an assignment, offers a listening ear when you need to vent about a long day, and joins you for coffee on campus, keeping the conversation light and easy. He respects your boundaries, never pushing for more, never expecting anything beyond friendship. You’re surprised at how attentive he is, how willing he is to wait, to prove that he’s serious about making things right.

Slowly, the walls around your heart begin to crack. You start to feel comfortable with him again, to let your guard down, if only a little. You catch him glancing at you sometimes, a soft, almost wistful look in his eyes, as if he’s seeing something precious he thought he’d lost forever. It’s in these moments that you remember why you fell for him in the first place, why his smile used to make your heart race, why his touch felt like home.

One day, as you’re both sitting on a bench by the campus pond, he turns to you, a hesitant smile on his face. “I know we’re just friends right now, and I’m okay with that. But I want you to know that I’m grateful for every moment I get to spend with you, even if it��s just like this.”

You feel a warmth spread through you, a sense of peace you haven’t felt in a long time. “Thank you, Bucky,” you say softly. “For not giving up. For being patient with me.”

He reaches out, hesitating for a moment before resting his hand on yours, his touch warm and steady. “I’ll wait as long as it takes. I’ll prove to you that I’m here for you, no matter what.”

And as you look into his eyes, you feel a flicker of something you thought was lost—a tentative, fragile hope that maybe things could be different this time. That he could truly be the person he’s trying to be, the person you wanted him to be all along. And though you know there’s a long road ahead, you’re finally willing to take that first step with him, trusting that maybe, this time, he won’t let you down.

The night is alive with music and laughter as you step into the crowded frat house. It’s your first time back here since everything happened, and you can’t deny the nervous flutter in your stomach as you take in the familiar scene. But tonight feels different—Bucky is by your side, watching you with a gentle smile as he guides you through the chaos of people, his hand warm and steady on your arm.

Over the past few weeks, things between you and Bucky have been slowly mending. He’s proven himself time and time again, showing up when it mattered, respecting your boundaries, and never pressuring you for more than you were willing to give. He’s become someone you can lean on, someone who’s earned back your trust bit by bit. And, to your own surprise, you feel something new blossoming between you—something deeper, stronger, and more genuine than before.

When you reach the main room, you spot Sam and Steve near the keg, both of them giving you a thumbs-up as soon as they see you with Bucky. You laugh, rolling your eyes, but Bucky just grins, shrugging as if to say, They’re harmless.

“Glad you came tonight,” he says, leaning closer so you can hear him over the noise. “I was worried you might skip.”

You shrug, glancing up at him. “Well, I figured it was about time I faced the frat house again.”

He chuckles, a warm, rich sound that sends a spark of something familiar through you. It’s the same feeling you used to get when you first met, when you were just getting to know him, before anything got complicated. Only now, it feels even better—because you’re finally on solid ground with him, without secrets or lies standing between you.

As the night goes on, you find yourself enjoying the party, laughing with friends, and even dancing a bit. Bucky stays close, his presence a comforting, steady anchor amidst the noise and chaos. He’s attentive, offering you drinks and glancing over every so often to make sure you’re comfortable. And every time you catch his gaze, you feel your heart race just a little faster.

At one point, as you’re talking with a friend, you feel Bucky’s hand gently touch your arm, and he leans in close, his voice soft and intimate against your ear. “Want to get some air?”

You nod, letting him lead you through the throngs of people until you step out onto the back porch. The cool night air is a welcome relief from the warmth inside, and you breathe deeply, taking in the quiet calm of the evening. Bucky leans against the railing, watching you with a soft, almost nervous smile, his hands tucked into his pockets.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you something,” he begins, his voice low and steady, as if he’s thought about this moment a thousand times. “I know we’ve been rebuilding things, and I know you wanted to take it slow. But, Y/N… being with you these past few weeks, even just as friends, has been everything to me. And I can’t stop thinking about you. About us.”

Your heart stirs at his words, and you feel a warmth spread through you, a sense of longing that’s been building quietly since the day he asked for a second chance.

“Bucky,” you say softly, stepping a little closer. “I… I feel the same. It’s been hard, letting go of the past. But I think—no, I know—I’ve forgiven you. You’ve shown me who you really are, and… I like that person.”

His eyes brighten at your words, and he reaches out, his hand brushing your cheek as his thumb strokes gently across your skin. He leans closer, his gaze searching your face as if to make sure you’re truly ready for this.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers, his voice barely audible in the quiet night air.

You feel your heart skip a beat, and you give him a small, almost shy nod, your pulse racing as he leans in, closing the distance between you. The moment his lips meet yours, it’s like the world melts away, leaving only the warmth of his touch, the softness of his mouth against yours. It’s gentle at first, tentative, as if he’s afraid of breaking the spell. But as you respond, his hand slips to the back of your neck, pulling you a little closer, deepening the kiss with a quiet, aching intensity.

When you finally pull away, he rests his forehead against yours, both of you catching your breath, sharing a smile that’s equal parts relief and joy.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice full of warmth, “I promise, I’m not going to mess this up again. I want this with you—for real, no games.”

You smile, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. “Good, because you’re stuck with me now.”

He laughs, pulling you into a tight hug, and you bury your face in his shoulder, feeling a happiness you haven’t felt in a long time. You’re finally ready to move forward with him, to start fresh, knowing that this time, it’s real.

maybe I should've made it more angsty? I love angst, request angst people! lol

[slytherinslut0]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 28th. theodore nott. lorenzo berkshire — humiliation / degradation

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. | 2024.

summary: never let enzo berkshire find out about one of your kinks. unless….

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNI, halloween ghostface costumes, threesome, fwb!theo, bestfriend!enzo, reader is involved in a bet unbeknownst to her, mask kink, humiliation on high, degradation, fingering, denied orgasm, oral m!rec, PIV, dirty talk, manipulation.

"Black cat mask?"

You shake your head, barely sparing the thing a glance.

"Mm, no. Too unoriginal."

"Right," Enzo sucks his teeth, tossing the mask back into the bin you're both half-heartedly rifling through. "Orange cat, then? That's far more fitting for you anyways."

"Enzo—no cats, please," you mutter, running a hand through your hair, staring down at the disheveled heap of plastic. None of it catches your eye, none of it sparks anything. "It's Halloween. I want something...scarier."

"Of course. Only day of the year you get to pretend you're as terrifying as me." He croons—half-laughing through the words. The tease itches in your mind, and you're halfway to some retort when he's already holding up another mask. "How about this one?"

You glance up, ready to dismiss whatever nonsense he's holding this time, but the sight of it stills the air in your lungs. A Ghostface mask. Stark white, hollow eyes staring back at you—it's grimace cast in a faded glow under tired shop lights. It's nothing—just a mask, just a piece of cheap plastic in Enzo’s hand—but your heart skips, stumbles, clutches at your ribs, and you can't look away.

And there's no goddamn reason for it, no logic—but you're already seeing it, aren't you? Your current fwb—Theo, standing over you; his face hidden, mask in place of those half-lidded eyes that you’ve learned to read so well. And you know—you know the thought is fucking absurd—yet, it knots something in your stomach, spreading heat like a fuse just lit.

"You alright there?" Enzo's teasing pulls you out of your thoughts, and you realize he'd been staring at you that entire time. "You're looking a little...hot."

Hot. Right. Of course he'd notice—of course your best friend would notice the way you went still, frozen in place as if someone struck you with Glacius. You're no good at lying to him, not even on a good day—and right now, your mind is in shambles, already too far gone into the fantasy and—

No. No more of this.

You tear away, fumbling for the edge of a cloak that suddenly seems like the most fascinating thing you've ever seen, your fingers tracing the fabric as if it can save you.

"It's...fine—it's nice," you blurt out, too quickly, too forced, the words tumbling over themselves. "Just—no, not really my thing."

But Enzo knows better. He can spot your lies from miles away. You hear him shift, the quiet rustle of the mask in his hands—and then, he's pulling it over his face, tilting his head just to spite you.

You don't have to look to know he's smirking behind it.

"Bullshit." He steps closer, casually closing the distance, but you know it's deliberate. "You're into this, aren't you?"

The warmth on your face feels like fire now, prickling heat across your skin. He shifts closer again, and for a moment you consider jinxing him—mind scattering into dark, unbidden places—filthy, wild things, flashing behind your eyes, too real. Enzo tilts his head the other way now, letting the mask catch the light, letting it grin.

"Should I get it?" He asks, as innocent as a serial killer. "For Nott, of course."

"No."

It scrapes out of your throat, barely audible, far too small to hold truth. You’re sure he can read you right now—all your depraved thoughts in the rasp of your voice, painfully transparent.

There’s a huff, a snort of sorts. "Are you sure? I think he'd love it."

Despite his insufferableness, he’s probably right. Theo has never shied away from indulging your kinks before. That’s what no strings is about. Maybe he would love it, you know you certainly would—gods how you’d love it—even if you’d rather die before admitting it.

The cloak—you focus on the deep purple velvet, the dark lace edging. "I'm sure. Put it back."

"You don't sound so sure." Gods, he's such an asshole—point only proved further as he takes another step closer. "Does this...does this turn you on?"

"Enzo—For Godric's sake, stop." The humiliation is suffocating. This is just a glimpse at your future should you ever decide to disclose this information to him. Relentless and bloody insufferable. "Let's just—pick something and go. Please?"

A pause, then, and you don't dare look up. The mask slips from his face with another soft, satisfied hum—you don't need to see him to feel the damage done. He knows.

"Sure, angel," he says, trailing as he turns. "Whatever you want."

————

"Matt—have you seen Theo?"

"Uh—not since earlier." Mattheo replies without even looking up, his focus on pouring another dangerous looking drink rather than on you. "He's probably just out for a smoke."

Yeah. Right. Forsure—because his smoke breaks last all bloody day. Doubt twists your stomach, but you nod anyway, grabbing your own drink—something bubbling, far too bright a green to be safe, but it burns down easy all the same. The room spins in a foggy haze, lights bleeding together over costumes, wizard and Muggle and something in between—and you struggle to tell who's who.

Theo had refused to tell you what he was dressing up as—claimed he wanted it to be a surprise. Now, that surprise is nowhere to be found.

"What are you supposed to be?" You raise a brow at Mattheo's striped inmate costume. “Your future?"

Riddle's eye flash as he pretends to be offended for about two seconds until his gaze drops to your own costume and his tongue darts over his lips, taking it in. Beer-maid, tight bodice, shorter than preferred. It's not what you were going for, not in the slightest, but it's all Pansy had in her closet to save you after you and Enzo failed to find anything interesting at the shop the other day.

"Maybe. But you definitely aren't dressed as yours." His attention shifts back to the crowd, a failed attempt at hiding his grin. "Way too much fabric."

You scoff, but that's just how Mattheo is—always a sly comment, always pushing. You roll your eyes and swat at him, but he sticks his tongue out at you and steps back, slipping off into the crowd with a final goodbye wink—and just as you lose track of him, Draco saddles up next to you, prattling on about something you don't care to listen to.

Great, that’s two annoying Slytherins accounted for. Where the fuck is Theo?

Five seconds into pretending to be interested in whatever Malfoy is babbling on about, you give up, turning back to the drink table and skimming over the options when someone new brushes up behind you—

"Enzo told me," the words barely register before you feel it—a hand settling low at your hip. "About your kink."

With lightening speed you twist your neck, glancing over your shoulder—only to fucking gasp at what you find there. That mask. The mask. The Ghostface one from the shop; the one Enzo hasn't let you forget, hasn't stopped teasing you about—you blink, your heart barrelling out of the room, fingers tightening around your cup until it hurts—

The mask tilts, just slightly. "Looks like he was right."

"Theo—"

"Go." His voice is muffled, but sweet Merlin—the sound of it makes your knees threaten to buckle right then and there. His hand slips lower, teasing against the ruffles of your dress. "Run, Bella. Let's play."

Your body locks up, muscles tense and poised on the edge of something feral. You can't look away. Can't think. Can't breathe. His fingers slip lower, lower, until you feel it—cold leather against the heat of your skin and your throat tightens, words dying dead on your tongue.

Run.

A slight lean, and the mask brushes your neck. "Now."

He steps back, a slow retreat, but it feels like he's tugging you with him. You spin to face him, smirking, your voice barely above a whisper—

"And when you catch me?"

"Find out." His head tilts toward the door. It's your cue.

Your feet move before your mind even catches up, slipping through the rowdy crowd, darting through the half-drunk revelers in their costumes—everything blurring into an afterthought as you push past the cobwebs, pumpkins, fake spiders, all the other Halloween decor filling the fogged ballroom. Your fingertips buzz from the adrenaline—pulse echoing in your ears as you dart down one hall after another, not quite sure where you're going, but knowing you need to keep moving.

Theo told you to run—so you run.

You sprint through the castle, the corridors empty save for your hurried footsteps and the scattered Halloween decorations lunging at you from the shadows. You round a corner, making for the dungeons. It's as good a place as any, right? Dark, quiet, somewhere to hide.

Few more minutes and you make it, lungs burning as you stumble into the dreary main hall. You realize the detention room is empty—and it's perfect. You take two steps inside, already thinking you'll be able to catch your breath when—

You slam headlong into something solid.

Head swirling, your vision barely refocuses before you feel a grip on your wrists, pulling you forward with enough force to make you gasp. Everything happens so fast you don't have enough time to process what's occurring before you're forced to focus on the thing you're seeing—ghostface. Staring down at you with those empty, gaping eyes. Unreadable.

It's then that you realize you're caught.

Something shifts behind the mask, an almost imperceptible movement of his head. You'd almost think you imagined it but given that there's nothing else to look at you know it's impossible. The silence is ballooning and you wonder if this is part of the game, if Theo is just savouring the moment, relishing in your reaction. The way you're trembling, your breath stuttering, the way you've gone still—waiting.

You swallow, throat drier than the Sahara, but something about this has you emboldened, the fact he's playing into your fantasy like this—so you decide to tease him, breaking the silence with a soft, breathless laugh as you pull one of your hands free from his grip.

He wanted to play. It's your turn to act the part.

"Looks like you caught me...Mr. Ghostface..." you purr—the silence sticks heavy, making the space between you feel thick, electric. All you can feel are his eyes devouring you. "And now...now that you've caught me...what are you gonna' do with me...hm?"

Gods—the thrill of this is so real, one your certain is more addictive than any drug. An adrenaline rush—not knowing what he's thinking, what he's about to do. Not being able to read him like you normally could. It makes your thighs quake—and there’s half a second where you wonder how much Enzo would pay to see this, how much he’d fucking taunt you for it.

But just as quickly as it came, you shake that thought—focused on Theo, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth and sink to your knees, fingertips teasing from his chest to his abdomen, tilting your head to look up at him through your lashes.

"...please don't punish me." You giggle—and the debauched absurdity of it all makes you nearly choke. "I'll be so good—I'll do anything, Theo—"

You feel him huff, tense, and when your fingers graze the front of his pants—just barely touching his crotch— his hand snaps down like a vice, gripping your wrist, stopping you dead in your tracks.

And then, you hear it. "Salazar sakes—shit—"

Your heart plummets. That voice—it's like being thrown into ice-cold water. No, that's not—it can't be—

"Enzo?"

Your voice cracks as you all but screech, your head whipping up so fast you feel dizzy. No, no, no—

Enzo, who you previously thought was Theo, pulls the mask off and all but verbally confirms it. Your nightmare born to life. Spooling to fruition right in front of you. He smiles, lips curled into something thoroughly entertained, and gods, how his eyes glint with pure assholery—you could fucking kill him.

"Enzo—" you stammer, horror flushing through you, burning through the mortification lodged in your throat. "Gods—what the fuck—"

"Surprise," he breathes, like this is the most casual thing in the world to him.

You scramble back, knees scraping against cold stone—mind spiralling in every direction at once—shame collides with shock and it all burns under your skin, the kind of heat that never settles. You know Theo's voice. You could never mistake it. You know for a fact that was him back at the party— but this, this makes no sense.

"What...what the hell-" your voice stumbles like you're trying to outrun the words. "Why would you—what were you—"

"Relax," he is all too fucking calm. "It was a prank."

"A prank?" You're still on the floor, and for some reason that makes everything worse. "You call that a prank? A—a funny little joke?"

"That's usually the definition—"

"No." You hiss between clenched teeth, anger strangling any hope for composure. "What were you doing in here? This— this isn't—you were trying to-"

"Trying to what?" He sounds so goddamn innocent but you know better. He's toying with you, making sure you know it. He's been your best friend since you were kids but you never said it was by choice. He steps closer. "I was trying to what, angel?"

Your blood boils, the heat spreading fast—pooling low in your core against all specks of your sanity. He's relishing this, drinking in your mortification like it's fine wine—and for some reason, it makes you weak.

"You—" words die with another one of his steps, the toes of his shoes brushing against your skin as he crouches down in front of you, elbows resting casually on his knees. You sit back, ass meeting cold stone. "Enzo—"

"Yeah?" He cocks an eyebrow. "You just gonna' parrot my name all night? Maybe you're too embarrassed to speak?"

The constant mocking feels like ice and you want to slap that smug look right off his face but instead your fucking thighs tense. You have nothing to say—can only stare at him, lungs seizing further as you notice the smirk fading from his lips, something darker replacing it—

"You didn't even know who was under that mask, and you were ready to suck me off," he's whispering, but he may as well be screaming. "You'd do anything for anyone with a mask, huh? I wish I knew about this kink of yours sooner."

He leans in closer, his knees pushing yours apart—you and Enzo had never been strangers to toying the line of friendship one too many times while drunk, but this—

You blink. Staring at him. "You...you're enjoying this way too much."

"Guilty as charged." His smile spreads wider, cockier, his eyes dipping to your lips, then lower. You shiver involuntarily. "I know I should have stopped you sooner, but seeing you on your knees...in front of me...I just..."

He shakes his head before he slowly stands back up—and his eyes flicker to your chest, lingering on your fucking tits and not even trying to be subtle about it.

Then, there’s a sound—the sound of the door creaking open.

You barely hear it, the faint shuffle of footsteps, but it's enough to pull the grin from Enzo's face as he looks up. You're not sure your heart can handle anymore of this—plummeting to the stone beneath you as Theo steps into the room, dressed just like Enzo—black robes, black gloves, Ghostface mask.

"Nott." Enzo's voice is too casual, too easy. "Great timing, mate."

Theo’s silent as he takes in the scene. You—still on the floor, dress hitched up, legs spread. Enzo standing over you, smug, unbothered. Theo's presence fills the room as he shuts the door behind him and locks it, stoking your humiliation into something even hotter, something impossible to escape.

Theo's voice is flat, his tone too even. "Looks like you got caught."

Wait—

"You—" your gaze jumps between them, a wild panic bubbling up inside you. You're so fucking confused. "What is this? You two—"

"Like I said, a prank." Enzo says as he steps toward Theo, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "A bet, really.”

Theo doesn't respond. He doesn't move. He doesn't look away from you.

"A bet?" You choke out, trying to piece everything together. "What bet?"

"Well, you see, angel," Enzo pushes away from Theo and slumps down into a chair just off to the side of you. You feel the dread rolling in like a storm. "I bet big Theo here you'd get so weak in the knees over the mask, you wouldn't even notice the switch. As usual, I was right."

Andddd, there’s the dread. Yup. As expected whenever Enzo is fucking involved in anything.

"Oh, wow—" you'd laugh if you weren't this utterly mortified by the entire situation. "You guys are—gods. You’re going after a whole new high score in the prick olympics, aren't you—"

"Oh, I don't know if you believe that, topolina...I think you're just being shy." Theo cuts through your rambling and you flinch at the sound of his voice. "It's clear this is a fantasy of yours."

Your head tilts up, eyes widening as they meet the empty, hollow eyes of the mask drawing closer.

"I bet you're just embarrassed," Theo's pressing—he's fucking pressing and you don’t think you’ve breathed since he walked in. "Embarrassed that you got on your knees for your best friend...or maybe you're afraid I'd be mad." He pauses, and his gaze sweeps down over you. "Which, to that I'd have to say, I'm far from."

You swallow hard, your mouth dry. "You're...you're not mad?"

Perhaps you were afraid of that—even if you and Theo are unofficial in every aspect.

His answer is instant. "No."

He crouches in front of you, gloved fingers finding your chin, tipping your head up so he can look at you— really look at you.

"In fact...I think you should let him watch..." his thumb ghosts over your lower lip, so soft, so slow—without thinking, your tongue flicks out, barely grazing the leather covered tip, and you hear the soft exhale he releases in response. "After all, this was his idea. He deserves some fun too, don't you think?"

Heat floods your cunt, your stomach tightening at the suggestion. You glance at Enzo, sitting back now with his mask on—legs spread wide, leather hands clasped, calm—you wanted to kill him five minutes ago, but now—

Oh gods—you're really losing it.

"Yeah," you whisper, barely managing the word. "He probably does."

Theo's hand slides down to your thigh, leather fingers curling into the soft skin, pulling your legs open further.

"Mhm." He mutters. "You like being watched, don't you?"

Your breath catches, your pulse thundering in your ears as you nod, your eyes glued to Enzo. "Yes..."

"Say it." His fingers trail higher, teasing the soft skin beneath your dress, fingertips grazing closer—too close—just below the lace hem of your panties.

Salazar save you.

You bite your lip, and the air between you feels like it's thickening, growing too dense to breathe in. That fucking mask. You've fantasized over it. And now, there's two of them. Two sets of eyes—faceless, emotionless, and watching you. It's like something out of your fucking dreams.

"I—I like being watched," you manage to whisper, voice breaking between building lust.

"Louder," Theo growls this time like he's pulling it from somewhere deep in his chest—it sends liquid heat spilling through you. "Louder, topolina. He can't hear you if you're whispering."

Your heart stutters in your chest, and Enzo—gods, Enzo is still watching—stays silent, the mask concealing whatever reaction he might have, but his posture speaks volumes. Stillness, dark fabric of his trousers tight across his thighs, a coiled tension that radiates off him, permeates the space between you.

"I—fuck—" a breathless moan cracks through your words as Theo's leather-clad fingers slip under your panties, grazing your slick slit. "—love it. I love being watched."

Theo hums, the sound vibrating low in his throat, and rewards you by pushing two fingers into your dripping heat. So slow, the pace of his strokes torturous—slick sounds of leather working you open filling the room, mingling with your quiet, shuddering breaths. His thumb brushes your clit, teasing over it until you moan—hard and shameless—

"So loud," Theo mocks, your spine arching into him as his fingers curl inside you. "Eager, filthy little thing. You love being on display, don't you?"

A whimper catches in your throat, your gaze still locked on Enzo, watching him watch you.

You're shaking. You're close. Too close.

Your voice cracks again, nothing more than a whisper caught in a moan. "Theo...fuck—"

"You're so wet, bellissima," Theo breathes behind the mask. You're burning, every nerve sizzling. "You want to cum, don't you?"

You can't speak. Words don't exist anymore, only the pressure—only the way Theo's fingers curl inside you, the way your thighs tremble and ache from holding yourself open, from being watched, from being this goddamn humiliated.

"Y-yes," you choke out, desperate. "Yes, please, I—"

"Ask him." Theo's cuts you off. "Ask Enzo to let you cum."

The room spins. The air thickens into something cloying.

Ask him. Ask Enzo—

You swallow hard, your eyes darting between the two masks. Enzo is silent, still motionless, but he tilts his head slightly, the only indication that he's heard. That he's waiting.

"Please, Enzo—" the humiliation is sickening but you force past it. It’s a broken prayer, vulnerability in verbal form. "Please...let me cum—please—"

Time stretches. It feels like hours, an eternity where nothing exists but the weight of their hidden eyes on you, the way Enzo's fingers twitch, curl over the thick ridge at his crotch, leather knuckles tensing as if he's restraining himself from something primal. You're being devoured whole by this moment—by the unbearable tension, by Theo's fingers inside you, relentless in their assault, and gods—you're going to die if they don't let you—

"Yeah," Enzo finally murmurs, breaking the silence. Theo's gaze flickers to him, waiting. "Yeah, you can cum, angel…”

But as he says it, he shakes his head, and Theo—the absolute bastard—pulls his fingers out without a word.

"…just not yet." Enzo finishes.

The sound that leaves your throat isn't even human, some guttural, helpless whine torn straight from your throbbing, empty cunt. Theo shushes you.

"You'll get to cum, Bella," he coos, standing up slowly. "It'll be soon."

They're toying with you, playing you like a goddamn puppet on strings and it's infuriating in its deliciousness. You've known these men for years, yet it's almost laughable—the way they feel so foreign, so terrifyingly new.

"Oh, Enzo," you sigh, feeling your arousal cool, your body suddenly aware of the icy stone beneath you, of the wet heat slicking down your thighs. "I'm going to kill you tomorrow."

Enzo snorts. "You're welcome to try."

Theo exhales a half-chuckle, helping you off the floor and onto a desk, his hands firm on your thighs as he spreads you open like he's done a hundred times within the last few months.

A moment passes before he moves to loosen his belt and you realize just how close Enzo is now—his chair right beside the desk, his hand palming the bulge in his pants, shameless in his observation. The sight makes you fucking dizzy with filth. Surely, you've lost your mind. This is madness. Every line between friendship and lust—between restraint and indulgence—has blurred and bled into something you can't define, and the thrill of it is intoxicating.

"This is insane," you hiss, breathless, feeling the way Theo's gloves scrape over your skin, two thick digits dragging in your slick. "You're both fucking insane."

"Too much talking," Theo mutters, so infuriatingly calm, even as he drags the head of his dick over your folds, teasing your clit. "So much attitude for someone dripping down their thighs. You want to stop?" The silence stretches, your eyes locked on his, and you can feel the smirk behind the mask. He nods. "That's what I thought. Now shut up and let me fuck this wet cunt."

His hands grip either side of the desk, his body looming over you—the scene from your fantasy you've envisioned a million times. Ghostface—dominant and rough—gods, you want it. So bad it fucking hurts.

Your head lolls to the side, eyes immediately finding Enzo's again—forgetting for half a second that he was even there. His jeans are unbuttoned now, his hand moving rhythmically beneath the denim, mask locked onto you with a single-minded focus that makes your breath stutter.

"Enz-ohhh—" you go to say something to him, but then Theo pushes into you—no warning, no slow build—just a deep, unforgiving thrust that knocks the breath from your lungs, and your voice cracks on his name, the syllables lost in the moan that spills out of you.

"Shit." Enzo groans in response. "Did you just—"

"She did," Theo snarls, his grip on your hips punishing as he slams into you again, harder this time. "The little slut just moaned your name."

There's cursing, from both of them, but it's all a blur in your ears, drowned out by the sound of Theo's hips slamming into yours, the fevered slap of skin on skin, the obscene sounds you can't help but make—

"Yeah, I noticed," Enzo mutters, and fuck, he sounds ruined, completely lost in the sight of you—his best friend, getting fucked by his other best friend. "Fuck."

Theo's hand finds your jaw, forcing your head back to face him, Ghostface mask looming above you like a delicious nightmare.

"Who's fucking you?" His voice is caught somewhere between a snarl and a purr. "Is it Enzo?"

"N-no—" you manage, trembling with every thrust.

"Of course it's not," Theo hisses, driving into you with punctual thrusts to make you feel him, making you cry out when he slams your cervix. "So why'd you moan his name? When it's—fuck—my cock inside you?"

"I—I didn't mean—" you whimper, eyes squeezed shut, but there's no escape. Not from the relentless pace of Theo's dick, not from the way Enzo's eyes never leave you, burning into you like fire. You can't form words.

"Mm—don't be shy now, topolina," Theo purrs, his voice thick with effort. His hips snap forward, and your back arches, a broken sound escaping you. "I think you just love having him in your mouth—his name, his—"

"Fuck, Nott, shut up," Enzo cuts in, his head thrown back, chest tense. "I don't want to hear your voice—"

You can hear the strain, the way he's barely holding it together—

"Look at him," Theo ignores Enzo's words. He lets go of your jaw. "He wants you. He's always wanted you."

Your eyes dart between them, head spinning, unable to form a coherent thought—Theo's fucking relentless, pushing you closer and closer to the edge—and every time you glance at Enzo, you see the way he's breaking, hand moving faster, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths—

"I never knew you were such a voyeur, Nott," Enzo spits, trying to sound casual. "Never took you for being such a filthy bastard."

"What can I say?" Theo groans in response, propping your legs up over his shoulders to drive into you deeper. "Just discovered a new interest, you should try it sometime."

They're still bantering, like this is some kind of fucked-up competition, like you're not about to shatter into a million fucking pieces while your best friend watches—after he got you here and humiliated you with a fucking bet—gods, you'd laugh if you weren't so utterly lost to the pleasure ripping through you.

"And watch you get off on it?" Enzo spits back, voice rough. "I'll—"

Theo snorts, cutting him off. "I think there's more than one person getting off on—"

"Shut the-fffuck up—please-" you manage to moan, the words barely intelligible. You look to Enzo, eyes wide and pleading. "Enz...come here."

"Yeah...?" Enzo breathes out, his voice catching, tipping his head back forward to look at you. “What?”

"Come here," you moan again, trembling, fraying under the pleasure that's building inside you from Theo’s insistent dick. "Let me help you."

For a moment, he hesitates, and you can’t tell what he’s thinking because the goddamn mask hides everything. He's always been the calm one between you—always stopping your drunk kisses, always refraining from taking things too far. But tonight, there’s no more of that calm left in him—

He stands.

Each step he takes feels like a lifetime, but when he's standing next to your head on the desk, towering above where you're laid out like a feast, you don't know whether it's the mask or the situation itself that has your pulse racing. Erotic and terrifying, the not-knowing—a power exchange in its purest form. Theo growls infront of you, his thrusts growing harder, more vicious, as you reach out to pull Enzo's hips closer.

You're already eyeing the throbbing bulge in his jeans, your mouth practically watering as you stare.

"Go on," you rasp, lips parting as you look up through your lashes. "Take it out."

The breath Enzo sucks in is sharp, a hitch in the darkness. His fingers tremble, just barely, as he pushes his pants down his thighs, and the noise that escapes him when his cock slips out and smacks his stomach—low, strangled—makes you moan and clench in response—he's huge.

Your breath catches, a soft exhale of, "oh, fuck."

And the words are barely out of your mouth before both Theo and Enzo respond—low growls and breathless groans that echo in the shadowed room, vibrating through you like electricity.

"Open your pretty mouth," Enzo whispers and you obey without hesitation, tongue slipping out, wanting, eager. His breath shudders, and you wish you could see his eyes. "Good girl."

And then he's pushing into you, sliding hot and thick over your tongue, and at that exact moment, Theo thrusts harder, deeper, and suddenly you're overwhelmed—both of them inside you, filling you, consuming every breath. Moans ripple through the dungeon air, a chorus of sin, and you shake with the sheer intensity of it all.

Theo's thumb finds your clit, starts swirling over it, and you keen—eyes rolling back in your head, Enzo’s leather hands in your hair to hold you still. Tears stream down your face as you gag, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth, but neither of them stop—if anything, they're both lost in it, in the wrecked, messy beauty of it all. Your hands claw at the desk, desperate for something to hold on to as the pleasure builds, tightens, spirals out of control.

Time collapses. It's been moments—it's been hours.

And then it happens—all three of you tipping over the edge at once, crashing into a release so fierce it shatters you. Your climax rips through you, violent, leaving you shaking, milking Theo until he's spent—until he's pouring his cum deep inside your cunt at the same time Enzo groans deep and spills his own over your tongue. A moment passes, and then Theo is the first to pull away, panting, tearing off his mask and dropping into the chair beside the desk, and Enzo follows, tugging his jeans back up before slumping into another chair, mask still on—

Both of them are sprawled there, utterly spent, just as wrecked as you.

And then, after a few long, tense moments, you hear it—the clink of Galleons exchanged. You don't even need to look up for it to register. Theo tosses the coins into Enzo’s greedy palm because he was the true fucking winner here. The sound cuts through the stillness, and with it, that smug, unmistakable sneer in Enzo's voice.

"Told you she'd love it."

Asshole.

You roll your eyes. Your limbs feel like they're moving through molasses as you stand, your hands mechanically fixing your costume, adjusting the fabric against your thighs.

"You know, Enzo, if you wanted to watch Theo fuck me that bad, all you had to do was ask."

"What can I say," he shrugs, lazy, like he's discussing the weather. "I enjoy a bit of gambling."

Theo snorts, adjusting his collar, as if none of this fazes him. His eyes flick from you to Enzo. "Next time you'll be paying me."

"Next time?" You cock an eyebrow. "How generous of you."

"There will be a next time," Enzo says, flipping one of the Galleons between his fingers, that same smirk playing on his lips. "And I'll get my turn."

Your pulse quickens at the sheer arrogance of it, the way he says it like it's not even up for debate. You hate how much you like this side of him.

"Maybe next time you should."

They nod, both of them wearing their smirks like crowns. "Until next time, then."

[satowooo]

I said "I love you."

you say nothing back

Falling in love with Gojo Satoru was as easy as reading the pages of your favorite book, not until you reached the very end of the chapter and the author just loves to twist the story.

contents: it was all a bet trope, angst lol, fluff, hurt!gojo, groveling, satoru gojo x fem!reader, college AU, playboy!gojo, comfort

credits to @/toOOfu for the art above!! ^^

***

September 1, 2023

"She looks like an easy target," Satoru chuckled as he watched you walk over to your friend, Utahime Iori, in the school cafeteria. It was one of those days when he would joke with Suguru and Shoko, with Suguru always making sure Satoru gets riled up by his joke.

Suguru simply told Satoru that girls may swoon over him, but he's sure that they're some others who probably would find him annoying, someone like you. That statement made Satoru cocky, and as prideful as he was, he made it into a bet that he'll make sure to make you fall in love with him by the end of December, enough time to swoon you over.

"We'll see about that, Satoru." Suguru smirked. "The end of December, you say?"

The latter nodded his head, a wide and annoying grin on his face. "Watch and you'll see, Suguru."

The catch? Nothing, just plain fun and feeding his ego.

"Satoru!" Oh, and here comes one of his girls. His flings.

September 2, 2023

Satoru wastes no time. The next day after making their bet, he quickly made advances towards you. After seeing you in the lockers first thing in the morning, he walked over and leaned to the locker right next to yours. And when you turned, you found him there with a smirk on his face.

"Hey, darling..." He said, almost seductively, if not only for the furrowed eyebrows in your face.

"Excuse me, who are you?" Your soft voice echoed in his head.

Now that hurts his ego. Satoru Gojo. Gojo Satoru. The handsome Satoru. The greatest. The flirt. The smartest. The playboy. The Gojo Satoru. The damn Gojo Satoru who you didn't even know who.

His mind was floating elsewhere after hearing your question. As unbelievable as it may sound, you were, unfortunately, serious about not knowing him. And guessing by the look in your face, he definitely was not making a good first impression.

First attempt: Failed.

But he's not the Gojo Satoru for nothing. No, he won't give up just yet.

So he straightened his composure, faking a cough as he flashes his smile that makes all his girls go crazy, and lowers his head to show you his ocean blue eyes underneath his glasses.

He definitely made sure you won't forget his name as he asks forces you to walk you into class, blabbering nonsense by your side.

You were just too nice to tell him to go away.

September 16, 2023

Gojo Satoru was persistent. Walking you to class, even waiting for you outside the door when he was vacant, disturbing your quiet study session at the library, sitting with you at the cafeteria table when Shoko or Suguru was not there. You definitely didn't forget his name this time as he became the annoying Gojo Satoru who's becoming a nuisance to your somewhat quiet life turned into a roller coaster.

During those days, Gojo found out things about you. You were studying at the architecture department, you like arts and coffees as for what he noticed when you were at the library, you were at the top of your class, and you have a few admirers that you turned down in a nice way possible, just like how you were turning him down too.

He also took note of the fact that you were introverted, and a little shy with people so he might just go easy on you. You had a soft voice, however, you weren't as innocent as you came out to be. You are honest with your words, so when you say you're not interested in him, then you're truly not.

You weren't an easy target after all. But Gojo Satoru loved the thrill, you challenged him so much that he wasn't about to give up now that you intrigued him. He wanted to prove to himself that he can get anyone, he can have whatever he wants, and he definitely will.

"It's raining, it won't hurt to get in my car, princess." He said nearly in your ears. You pushed his face away with a look of disgust.

"No way, Gojo. You probably took so many girls in there already, and how can I be so sure you won't do anything bad?" You frowned at him, shoving his chest away as you stand outside the doors of your building, waiting for the rain to stop. You were angry, but damn you can't even raise your voice at him.

Soft. Too damn soft. Can he break you?

Through the days that he came by to woo you, it didn't matter anymore what words came out of your mouth. People may see you as the shy type of girl, but you're not afraid to voice out your opinion, and your somewhat intimidating face speaks a lot for you.

"Jealous?" He laughed when you glared at him. "Princess, I can assure you I haven't taken anyone inside my car. Plus, I can even buy a new one exclusively just for you if it bothers you too much." He grinned, annoyingly.

You gave him a moment of silence, and that sparked a new hope in Satoru's ego that you might be considering his offer now.

"Well... no."

Oh.

But he could only smirk, assuming you were only playing hard to get. Girls always liked when boys chase after them, no?

"I'll walk you home then."

You shot daggers at his back as he ran to his car, and came back with an umbrella. His shirt got a bit soaked, hair a little wet after running to the car, but damn, he still got that annoying smirk on his face.

You sighed, how annoying.

September 29, 2023

He never gave up despite how you rejected him multiple times. He stuck by your side even though you don't want him to, and he was somehow getting into your system. He carries your bag when he walks you to class, or just about anywhere, and you didn't even give your bag to him—he practically forced you. He'd buy you coffee in the morning, making sure he gets the right order, and when you give money to pay, he'd refuse and shove the money back in your wallet. Sometimes, he'd give you sweets even if you don't ask him to, giving you the flavors that he likes the most.

Funny how you can't even get him to stop whatever he's trying to do. No man has ever pursued you like he does.

"Gojo–"

"That's Satoru for you, love." He cut you off with a playful smile. "Haven't I told you already?"

"Gojo." You repeated seriously. His eyes glinted with interest as he waited for your words. "Get lost, please."

How nice of you to say please.

He laughs. He had the audacity to laugh. "You know, you're really cute."

"Look," you sighed tiredly. "Whatever this is you're trying to do, stop. I'm not interested. If you want to get into my pants like you did to those other girls, that's not going to happen."

With one look at him, you snatched your bag from him and walked away with your heart beating loudly. Your face was heating up after saying each word, and never in your life have you turned someone down so harshly.

Satoru watched as you walked away. Sure, that hurt his pride, but he can't let his ego step on so easily.

He left you alone during the day, just giving you the space since he seemed to have pushed your buttons a bit. Plus, he was busy with basketball practice since his coach was already nagging him for not attending their training.

However, your assumptions were only proved to be true when you caught him with a girl at the parking lot the same day. A cheerleader, stroking his chest as if she was comforting him as her other hands wiped his sweat with a towel. You looked at his physique, Satoru Gojo was in his basketball uniform, showing a lot of his biceps. You watched as his adam's apple protruding as he drank his water.

You felt annoyed. Your eyes turning red when you see just how he didn't mind the cheerleader. Of course, Gojo Satoru was a playboy.

Who cares? You definitely didn't.

That's what you thought.

You walked in the opposite direction, just so you wouldn't cross paths. But of course, Gojo Satoru will always see you. After all, he was at the parking lot waiting just for you, and only you.

"Wait up!" You heard his voice from behind, and you didn't even look back, thinking he wasn't calling out for you. You wished he was calling for you.

Satoru grabbed your wrist, and forced you to look at him. "Hey!"

Your brows furrowed, trying to yank your wrist away at his strong hold. "What do you want?"

"Woah... slow down." He said as he grasped your elbows with both hands. His eyes searched yours, his piercing blue eyes staring at the raging fire burning in your gaze. "What's wrong?"

You swear, your brows almost met each other at him. But you didn't want to burst. At least, not in front of him. "Go back to your cheerleader, Gojo." You frowned at him.

He observed you for a minute, then a small smile crept on his lips. Realizing just how much he's finally having an effect on you.

"Sorry," he chuckled.

"What?!" You almost shout at him in annoyance.

"I said, I'm sorry, princess." He repeated. "I didn't think of you as the jealous type. Plus, she was just helping me."

"Help you what? Wipe off your sweat? Since you don't have the hands to do it for yourself?" You glared at his annoying handsome face. "You playboy. I knew you were just trying to play with me." You said, pushing his chest with your pointer finger.

He pursed his lips as he caught your wrist, stopping you. "Now, now, don't think like that." He chuckled. "I'm sorry, I'll be sure to push those girls away so you won't be mad at me anymore."

And damn, he was true to his words. He didn't know what got into him, but he definitely started rejecting every girl that came his way. He didn't even feel sorry, and he even stopped calling those poor girls with sweet endearments as he rejected them.

Gojo Satoru was slowly starting to feel something for you. But he doesn't even know it just yet.

In a span of a month, he successfully got into your system.

October 6, 2023

"How's the deal going?" Suguru asked as they walked together to their class.

"Poor girl, I heard from people that she's nice." Shoko added, shaking her head at them. "Though people may see her as intimidating, they said she's really kind. A soft voice, and all that. Shouldn't you stop, Satoru?"

"Nah, I think I'm enjoying this." Satoru shrugged.

Of course, Satoru definitely felt something tugging at his heart. He definitely liked having you around, since you were giving just the right thrill to rile him up, he loved every rejection, and every attention you gave him. But somehow, he was feeling a little guilty. But he's too prideful to even admit that.

"Plus, she's friends with Utahime. That girl hates you a lot, Satoru." Shoko said. "You wouldn't want to hurt her best friend."

October 13, 2023

"Didn't I tell you to call me Satoru?" He raised his eyebrows at you as he accompanied you in the library, placing a coffee and a small cookie right next to your books.

"We're not friends, Gojo."

"Right, since you're going to be my girlfriend."

You shot him a look, sighing as you turned the pages of your book. "What do you want this time?"

"Nothing, I just wanted to spend time with my favorite person." He smiled, opening his books too. "I'll study with you. I promise, I'll be quiet."

You didn't respond to that, just expecting him to keep his words. And when he did stay silent like he promised, you were already thanking god for having to hear your prayers.

As the hours went by, you slowly fell asleep, your head resting in your arms as your books laid discarded. Satoru looked at you, a small smile crept on his face as he gently stroked your hair.

He stood up, organizing your books in a pile, taking your pencil case as he shoved your pens in them and putting it inside your bag, he got the empty cup of coffee that he got for you and threw it in the trash can, and he did it all so as to not wake you. He waited for a few hours, tenderly watching you doze off, before he tapped your shoulders to wake you up so he could take you home.

October 18, 2023

Maybe Satoru felt guilty now.

He twists and turns in his bed, thinking of you and how you put up with him everyday. And everything you do, never escape in his eyes as he finds himself memorizing you.

You'd smile at him nicely, despite how your eyes show how annoyed you were.

Your feet would tap the floor when you get too nervous.

You don't even know but you unconsciously hold a piece of fabric in his shirt when it gets too crowded, hiding behind him when there's a lot of people.

He notices how your hands move gracefully as you trace your art project, eyes furrowed and focus on getting your work done.

Truthfully, he adores your smiles. The way your eyes would squint every time your lips stretch in delight. He held your hands once at his attempt of flirting, and it was so soft that he couldn't even get himself to let go. He loved playing with your soft, silky hair whenever you fell asleep in the library, staying by your side until you woke up. He also loved your silence, the comforting atmosphere that you give off seems to calm something in his heart. When he manages to get a proper conversation with you, he just wants to melt every time he hears your sooting voice.

And nervously, he thinks he's starting to like you.

October 23, 2023

Slowly, Satoru became a part of your day. Somehow, he managed to finally be friends with you, and still, you refused to call him Satoru, indicating that you still cannot allow yourself to be casual with him.

That's fine. He can settle for whatever you can give him. For now.

"Baby, there's a basketball game coming up this Friday..." Satoru trailed off. You were almost going to point out his endearment, but then again, it's Satoru, and you were slowly getting used to him.

"What?" You asked. "So?"

"I bought you tickets so you can watch. It's two tickets, so you can bring your friend."

He didn't even ask if you wanted to, but then again, for a hundredth time, it's Satoru. He wanted you to watch his game, nonetheless.

And you did. Your seat being close to their benches so he can see you easily.

October 27, 2023

"Seriously? I'm about to watch our school's basketball game, because Gojo Satoru invited you?" Utahime said annoyed as you both sat at your assigned seats.

"Well... yes..." You said shyly, looking around at the amount of people in the stadium. "You know, we've been hanging out a lot–"

"I told you, he's bad news." Utahime cut you off. "How am I supposed to get that in your head?"

"I know, I know... But he's actually been nice. Haven't you notice?"

Utahime thought for a moment. Of course, she noticed some changes. Gojo Satoru seemed to be spending his time with you lately. He didn't even care about his ex flings, or his admirers, he was solely focused on you. Usually, Gojo would take a girl wrapped around his fingers in a day, and then disposing them just as quick after he got what he wanted. He looks like he's not like that to you, Utahime thought. Though, she hated his guts, Utahime knew you were enjoying having him around.

She sighed, "Just... don't get hurt, okay?"

You chuckled at her. "Why would I?"

After the game ended, with your school cheering loudly at winning, Utahime said she had to go home quickly, so you were left alone.

You didn't know what to do, or where to go. Satoru was busy with his teammates, talking and congratulating each other. Satoru wanted to go to you quickly, but his fans surrounded him, stopping him from going your way as they celebrated their victory.

Satoru knew too well that you didn't like the crowd, so he was trying hard to escape from it.

Your eyes watched as his fans congratulated him, asking for pictures, and even giving him gifts. You sighed, texting him that you'll be going home since he wasn't about to finish anytime soon.

You understood that he was famous, and all that. He's Satoru Gojo, after all. And it's another part of him that you're still not used to.

A part of you was proud of him. And you couldn't possibly be selfish about him, especially if you only recently got to know him.

Satoru hurriedly ran away from the crowd, excusing himself politely as he saw you walking through the exit doors. He got his bag, and ran to catch up to you.

Thanks to his long legs, and his intense basketball training, he was able to catch up to you quickly. "Hey!" He called.

You turned as you heard his voice, seeing his disheveled hair and sweaty forehead as he ran to you. "Gojo, hey, I texted you and–"

"Hey..." He greeted, panting heavily.

You pursed your lips, getting a handkerchief from your pocket so you can wipe the sweat off his face. "Why did you leave them? Everyone was celebrating with you."

"You weren't there." He frowned. "What's the point of it..."

Satoru was tired after the game, but he was regaining his strength once he saw you.

"Nonsense." You chuckled, in which he frowned even more.

"I'll take you home." He said as he holds your hand to his, leading you to his car. "I invited you anyway, it's my responsibility to take care of you."

You nodded, getting in his car since you had been tired from all the crowd.

When he reached your home, he quickly got off so he could open the door for you.

Oh, the little things that he does.

You both stand outside of your house awkwardly, both trying to find the right words to say. You looked away, tapping your feet nervously as Satoru watches you.

"Congratulations... Satoru."

Satoru... Satoru... Satoru... His name never felt so good until you said it. It was like an achievement, a big prize that he won in his life. And his heart was almost about to explode when you finally called him by his name.

Satoru almost stuttered thanks to you. Slowly, he was approaching you until your back leaned in his car.

He closed his eyes, as his head fell on your shoulders. "Say that again... please?"

"Huh?" You were confused, your face blushing at the proximity. "Congratulations?"

"No... say my name... please, baby?"

His voice was so soft, desperately asking you to say the words he longed to hear from you. Satoru felt weak in his knees.

He looked up at you finally, his eyes searching your soul. Despite the darkness of the night, his eyes were glowing brighter than the moon.

"Satoru?"

"Fuck..."

Satoru Gojo knew he's in danger.

The moment he locked eyes with your eyes, looking at them until it darted on your lips. Before he knew it, he was leaning down for a kiss.

And fuck it, just how dangerous it was that you weren't even pulling away.

October 28, 2023

You were confused when you saw Satoru at your front door the next morning, his hands holding a bouquet of flowers. He looked absolutely handsome in his shirt, his sleeves tucked until his elbow.

You blush when you remember what happened last night. "Satoru, what are you doing here? It's a Saturday."

"I know," he said, handing you the bouquet of tulips. "I missed you."

"H-huh?"

"Will you allow me to take you out on a date?"

His heart was at bliss when you said yes to him. It was a simple coffee shop date, but you felt so happy as he made sure you were also comfortable and having fun. Having casual talks with you, but this time, there was a lying affection between you two.

And when he took you home, he slowly sealed your lips in a kiss. Exploring your mouth gently, smiling as he pulled away.

October 30, 2023

Satoru finally told Suguru he wants to stop whatever game they started with each other.

"Just about time you do."

Satoru swears he felt his ears heat up when Suguru said those words with a teasing grin. Shoko was laughing at his flushed state, clapping her hands in delight.

"Ah! I knew it!" She exclaimed. "Knew you were going to fall on your own trap. Well, that's actually good."

Satoru blushed even more. Finally, he can admit that he was starting to like you. Love you even.

In all honesty, he felt like he couldn't even live without you in his life. He felt like every moment with you was precious, and he was desperate to make you his, seriously this time.

All those times that he accompanied you to class, were influenced by his own choice. He could've just left you alone some days, but he didn't even know he was doing all those things unintentionally. Buying you snacks, and your coffee, he could've easily stopped that after every rejection, but he chose not to.

Gojo Satoru wanted to always be a part of your day. He was already a part of your present, and he wants to be there in your past, and still be in your future.

November 3, 2023

Satoru, as usual, was eating lunch with you in the cafeteria. Everyone in the school knew by now that he was not entertaining anyone anymore, just you. And he made it that obvious, looking at you so lovingly everyone who passed by would've looked at you in envy.

"Why aren't you with Shoko and Suguru?" You asked as you take a sip of your coffee. You looked over to the table where his friends sat, both busy at whatever conversation they had.

"They don't mind." Satoru replied, scooting closer in your seat. "You should get used to it by now."

"To what?"

"Sitting with you during lunch." He smiled when you looked away. "I like being with you."

Your mind wandered off somewhere when he said that. Does he like you or does he like the company that you give?

November 10, 2023

Satoru was frowning at you when he saw you sitting with another guy in the library. At your usual spot, in his seat, in front of you. He was annoyed that someone even had the guts to make a move to you.

Slowly, with heavy steps, he approached your table, sitting at the vacant chair next to you. His hands wrapped itself between your waist, as his jealousy pulled him to kiss your cheek in front of your innocent classmate.

"Baby..." He whispered closely in your ear. "I was looking for you."

He looked in front to shoot daggers at the guy you were with. The innocent stranger blushed as he looked away, "Uh... I guess I'll see you tomorrow. I'll message you if I need help."

The guy hurried on his feet, stumbling as he exited the library. Satoru's arms tighten on your waist and you looked at his angry face.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Who is he and why is he going to message you?" A frown was evident in his face, and he was getting a little too close. You had never seen him this intimidated.

"That's my partner for a group project, idiot." You muttered the last word. "You scared him off."

Satoru pulled you close, nuzzling his nose against your temple. "It's annoying..."

"What's annoying?"

Satoru cursed under his breath, "Come on, I'll take you out to dinner."

But while he was driving, it was painfully silent. You're not used to this kind of mood, he was always playful and teasing, but now, he was glaring ahead at the car in front of him, as if the car did something wrong.

His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, and for some reason, you find yourself putting your hands above his, running circles on his tensed ones.

His hold loosened up a bit, and he sighed heavily.

"Tell me, what's wrong, Satoru."

Satoru pulled over to the side, facing you with a nervous face. "I'm sorry..."

"For what?"

"I was... jealous." He answered truthfully. He frowned, not liking the feeling twisting in his stomach. "I've never felt this before, baby. I want to keep you to myself, to always have you by my side and not anyone else, and it's so selfish that I hate myself for it. You're driving me crazy, and fuck it, I love you. I love you for making me like this. You don't understand... I'm head over heels–"

You interrupted him with a kiss. Satoru didn't even realize that he was already confessing, not until he felt your mouth against his.

It felt like there were fireworks exploding in your surroundings. Feels like he was finally breathing for the first time ever. Like the summer melting his winter.

"I love you too, Satoru."

He felt like dying right then and there, cupping your cheeks in a hungry kiss. Pulling you to his lap as you both make out in his car.

"Can I be your boyfriend?"

How can he be so cute, muttering those words weakly underneath you?

His question was not even a 'will you be my girlfriend' but a 'can i be your boyfriend?'

It was so cute. He was asking you your permission, he was asking to be yours.

He was... surrendering his heart to you.

And who were you to deny him?

November 20, 2023

You found out Gojo Satoru is a clingy man. It was obvious, the first time that he never left you alone, but this time, it only got worse, in a good way though.

He holds your hand when you're together, not even caring when girls would look at the two of you jealously. He doesn't care if a teacher sees him snuggling his face against your neck, he just wants to be that close to you. He will ask for a cuddle every time you two spend your time in your house. He would dart his tongue out teasingly at Shoko and Suguru when all of you sat at the same table, and he was hugging your waist and leaning his head on your shoulder. And when you two are in a private space, especially his car, he'd pull you in his lap for a long make out session.

You weren't even complaining, since you loved him just as much.

"Utahime!" You smiled when you saw your best friend in the cafeteria. "Haven't seen you in a while."

Utahime gave out a tired sigh. "I know, the professor is always giving out so many tasks, I might pass out anytime soon." She chuckled. "How are you? You and Gojo? He's like a lovesick puppy always sticking by your tail."

You chuckled. "That's so exaggerated, Utahime... But I'm really really happy."

Utahime was glad to hear her only best friend was this happy. She was thanking god that Gojo finally decided to be serious over a girl for once, and if he ever just breaks your heart, she'd be so sure to be the first to kick his ass.

December 4, 2023

"You're still with her?" Gojo's ex flings, Jia, asked him during his basketball training. Jia was the cheerleader girl that you saw him with in the parking lot, the fling that Satoru had for a month, longer than usual. He already rejected her, but she's still desperately trying to get with him.

"Of course, I am." He muttered, annoyingly. He snatched the towel that she was holding, her attempt to help him wipe his sweat. "Jia, I already told you–"

"Isn't she just a bet?"

Satoru froze, as if a bucket of ice was dropped all over his body. Her voice rang in his head, and he blinked furiously a few times.

"She's not–"

"But I heard you and Geto." Jia smirked, knowing she was just pushing the right buttons. "Come on, you were at the cafeteria, were you not expecting someone to hear you? I was pitying her when I saw the poor girl slowly starting to–"

"Whatever you heard, Jia, is none of your business." Satoru said in a cold-hearted tone. "I love her. Get that in that little brain of yours." He scoffed, walking away.

Jia was furious, her eyes turning black in anger. Oh, she wanted to hurt you. She was the last fling of Satoru, and just because of you, he was acting like this. She didn't like the fact that you easily stole him from her.

December 13, 2023

The fall. The breaking point.

Suguru was having a party in his house, a public year-end party with a few of his college friends and blockmates, everyone was invited to have fun. Satoru took you with him, making sure to just stay by your side so you won't get lost at the sea of people.

"How are you two holding up?" Suguru approached you two, handing a cup to Satoru. "You two having fun?"

You nodded your head quietly. "Yeah... there's a lot of people. Are they all from our university?"

"Some are outsiders," Suguru chuckled. "Satoru, we're about to play by the pool. We'll wait for you there."

Satoru nodded, pulling you by the waist as Suguru left. "You okay, baby? Do you want to go home?"

You shake your head, "No, no, it's fine. We can stay a bit more."

"Mhmm, just tell me if you get tired, okay?"

You two walked together to the backyard, where the swimming pool was at. It was a bit crowded, but definitely fewer than inside Suguru's house. Shoko was there, a few of Suguru's friends, and Satoru's basketball teammates. They were all passing out their drinks, mixing whatever liquor was there.

Everyone said hi to Satoru, even to you. You watched silently as a few of his friends talked to him.

"Satoru, I'll go to Shoko first." You whispered above the noise. He turned his head at you, stopping his conversation with his friends.

"What? I'll go with you then–"

"No, it's fine, Shoko's just there." You said, pointing at Shoko who was lighting a cigarette right next to Suguru. "Don't worry, I'll be fine."

Satoru nodded reluctantly as he let you approach Shoko and Suguru, turning back to his friends, glancing at you once in a while.

But when he wasn't looking, Jia just had the perfect timing to enter the scene, stopping you midway.

"Oh, it's Satoru's little toy." Jia slurred her words. You looked at her confused as she looked at you judging. "He's still not breaking up with you? He wants to hurt you that bad, huh?" She chuckled.

You were trying to assess her words. You recognized her as the cheerleader Satoru was with last time, and her aura and words were making you nervous. What was she trying to say? What did she mean by that?

Satoru saw you, and his breath hitch when he saw who you are with. He looked over at Shoko and Suguru, who both stood up to approach you, but Jia was already taking advantage of you being alone.

"Poor girl," she frowned teasingly. "I'm pretty sure Satoru didn't want to go too far with the bet."

"Bet?" Your voice came out hoarse. You looked over at Jia's shoulder, where Shoko and Suguru stood frozen in their spot, their eyes widened in horror, and it gave you just enough explanation about what's happening.

"Oh, they were just betting about how Satoru can make you fall in love 'til December." She laughed wickedly. "I'm sorry, honey, you had to find out this way, but really, I was feeling sorry that I have to tell you–"

Her words were cut short when you felt a hand on your wrist. And you turned to see Satoru, his eyes red and shaking, "Baby..."

"Satoru? Was that true?" You looked into his eyes, hopeful. Your eyes welled up in tears, and his silence just made it worse. His hold on you was trembling, and he couldn't even say the right words out of his mouth.

You looked at Suguru and Shoko, your eyes pleading. "Shoko? Suguru?"

Another silence. It's like something was pulling the strings of your heart, threatening to cut your lifeline. And it hurt so much when they couldn't even say something.

You heaved a gasp, trying to stop a sob to escape your lips. But you failed miserably as Satoru tried to pull you in his embrace. "Let me explain–"

You pushed him away furiously, eyes angrily glaring at him. "Explain? Explain what?! That what she said was true?!"

Satoru's hands balled in a fist, and he felt his eyes burning as you pushed him away from his touch. His heart aches when you look at him full of hatred, and hurt. He felt his world slowly crumbling apart when you ran away in a hurry.

You quickly called Utahime, asking her to pick you up as soon as possible. While Satoru stood there helpless, his feet glued to the ground. He looked at Suguru, his eyes searching for help.

All of you were equally shocked, and nervous.

"Fucking go after her, Satoru!" Shoko shouted as she pulled Jia's hair. "Fucking bitch!"

The latter cried, but Satoru couldn't care less as Suguru pushed him to move. As fast as he could, he ran outside the door of Suguru's house, walking past every dancing body, he didn't even care if he crashed into someone, he just wanted to get to you.

And when he found you walking by the sidewalk, his heart started crying at your panicked state. He approached you, holding your wrist to stop you from walking any further.

"Satoru!"

"Let's talk, please–"

"Let go of me!"

"Let's talk, baby. Let's talk this out." He pleaded desperately, hands grasping your shoulders to stop you from moving.

Your body trembled against him, hands covering your face as you tried to stop your tears from falling continuously. "I hate you."

"I know you do–"

"Fucking jerk."

"I know, I know–"

"Don't touch me!" You burst, pushing him away harshly. His heart crashed into pieces, his breath coming out shallow and slow. Just like you, he was crying just as bad. "I knew! I knew from the very start you were up to no good! Utahime warned me, my friends warned me! But fuck you! I thought you actually cared! I thought you loved–"

"I love you, baby..." He said, weakly.

"You lying skim! I thought you changed!"

"Please, baby, let's talk about this when we're not angry? Please?" He tried to reach out for you, but his heart felt like it was losing its strength when you back away.

"I don't want to see you–"

"N-no, you don't mean that..." His voice came out as a whisper, a desperate plea for you to listen to him. "I'll take you home, we'll talk, okay? I'll explain and–"

"There's no use, Gojo."

Cruel. How cruel of you to say his last name so coldly. It was a sign that Satoru refused to look at. A sign that you were tired, that you want to let this go already.

His beautiful blue eyes seemed to lose its life, the same way that he was losing you. One moment, you were there by his side, and now... you looked at him as if you wanted to get him out of your life.

And it hurt so bad. It hurt so bad when he tried to touch you, but you still furiously backed away.

"I love you." His voice cracked, looking at you weakly. His hands shake by his side, fighting the urge to reach out for you.

You breathed heavily, shaking your head at him as you said nothing back. You clenched your teeth, not wanting to let him hear your sobs. You're starting to pity yourself, of how stupid you had become. You should've listened to Utahime the first time.

December 14, 2023

Satoru had never felt this lifeless before. Even Shoko and Suguru couldn't help him as he refused to talk to any of them.

His eyes were searching for you everywhere in the cafeteria, but to his dismay, you never showed up the whole day, not even in your classes. He wanted to ask Utahime when he saw her walking down the hallways, but the girl only glared at him as she walked passed. And Gojo was just as helpless as ever.

He messaged and called you a few times, but you didn't answer. He wanted to go to your house, but he can't even find the courage to do it.

December 15, 2023

Satoru finally saw you after a day of absence. You looked tired, and he was mentally cursing at himself for making you like this. He was starting to hate himself, and he's not going to forgive himself anytime soon.

Satoru tried to approach you, but you didn't even dare look him in the eye. He bit his lower lip, trying his hardest to stabilize his breathing. Just like he usually does, he walks you to class, only a few steps behind this time.

Fine, he'll settle for this. He'll give you the space you needed first before anything else.

At the cafeteria, he didn't see you once again. That worried him as he left Shoko and Suguru to look for you. The first place he thought of was the library, and he was glad to see you there.

You glanced up from your book, feeling someone staring at you. And you were right as your eyes met with Satoru, and your heart ached as your brows furrowed at him.

You looked away, trying not to be affected.

All throughout the day, Satoru thought of you and your last interaction. Every time the memory flashed in his mind, he wanted to punch himself. Hurt himself twice as much.

He fucked up so bad, and he wanted to make it up to you.

So he finally had the courage to wait outside your classroom's door after his class, waiting for the professor to dismiss everyone. He didn't waste anymore time as he got by your side quickly when you walked out the door.

Your name rolled out his tongue slowly, and you stopped dead on your track.

"I'll t-take you home..." He stuttered, his eyes searching yours for any emotion. But your eyes were dead, not even a single anger, or love for him in there.

"I'm fine, Gojo. You can go away–"

"I'm not going away."

You turned to him furiously. It was like you two are back to square one, to the first time you two met, and no one should ever forget that Gojo Satoru was persistent. But this time, two hearts were breaking and in a need to mend.

"P-please, let's talk–"

You didn't respond as you walked away fast, but damn his legs for always being able to keep up with you. Despite how Satoru took the hint that you don't want to talk to him, he still didn't care. It didn't matter to Satoru if he couldn't take you home with his car, he'll walk with you instead, like how he used to.

He'll be quiet. He just wants to be with you.

December 16, 2023

You hated Saturday classes. And you hate it even more that Satoru Gojo was tailing you behind. Trying his best to get you to talk to him.

"Baby–"

"Don't call me that."

He coughed awkwardly, blinking his tears away. "You didn't eat lunch today again, let me take you–"

"Cut the crap, Gojo."

He gulped when you looked at him, with hatred in your eyes.

Maybe, just maybe he can settle for this. Look at him. Just look at him. At least look at him, even if you don't want to love him anymore. It's fine. He understands. Just look at him.

"Stop with the act already. I'm so tired of it. I'm so tired of you."

"I'm sorry..." He muttered against his breath. "But I can't. Not until you listen to me." Not until you take him back.

"There's nothing for you to explain anymore, Gojo. I've had enough, and I get it. I understand as bright as day that it was just a game–"

"It's fucking not." He gritted his teeth. As much as he didn't want to be harsh, he was so desperate in wanting you to lend your ears to him. "It wasn't a game for me. And I did love you. I fucking love you still. Yes, it was a bet at first, but I told Suguru that I wanted to stop. He knows just how much I love you. Shoko knows. Fucking everyone knows at this point. Why can't you just listen to me?"

He catches his breath as he finishes voicing out his words. But no, you were a little hard in the head. You wouldn't believe him that fast. You didn't want to hurt your heart again.

"I don't love you."

You didn't know what gave you the urge to say that. It wasn't really true, but the wrong words seem to be the only right words to cut it out.

If Satoru's heart is already breaking, he was sure it is now turning into ashes. You're a liar, he tried to convince himself. You love him, and he's not about to give up just yet.

December 18, 2023

You can hurt Satoru how much you want, but that will never stop him from loving and chasing after you.

Another frustrated sigh came out from you when he left a cookie on your table to your first class, with a note saying, 'I love you. Don't forget to eat.' with his name underneath and a heart. You didn't even know how he managed to put these on your table so early in the morning, and your heart just wants to surrender.

But no, you're not.

So, even if it comes out too heartless, you offered the cookie to the person next to you as you crumpled the note, throwing it away inside your bag so no one would see it.

During lunch, Satoru saw you at your usual table, and tried to sit with you. But you got up in a hurry, pulling Utahime who just got back from the bathroom with you.

Being angry at him is one thing, but avoiding him? No, he can't take that. He'd rather have you stay mad at him, scream and hurt him verbally, even slap him if you want, but giving him the cold shoulder was you telling him that he doesn't exist in your world anymore. Satoru's heart is barely living at this point.

Satoru cursed to himself, standing up and going back to Shoko and Suguru who looked at him with a sad smile.

"Give it time, Satoru."

But time doesn't seem to be on his side.

And fate doesn't get along with you on your most desperate days as you watched the rain poured down once again. It was like deja vu. Standing outside the building, waiting for the rain to stop so you can go home.

But the rain was falling a little too harsh, and you know it's not about to stop anytime soon. It was like the rain also had a turmoil within itself, crying heavily just the same way your heart did.

You hate yourself for always forgetting an umbrella as you take a step, lifting your bag to your head, as you let the rain soak your clothes. It's the last day of school today anyway, you're finally taking your Christmas vacation tomorrow, and it wouldn't hurt to get sick for a few days.

Unbeknownst to you, Satoru comes to the rescue at the right time.

He held an umbrella as he ran after you, being careful as he strides so he won't trip on his feet.

He called your name, stopping shortly when he finally got you under the umbrella and pulling you close by the waist.

"I'll take you home." He shouted above the rain.

Your body trembled in the cold, and Satoru was embracing you like he used to. He didn't even mind if you got his clothes wet. But you still have the guts to push him away. "No! I can go home by myself!"

"Stop being stubborn!" Despite holding you with one hand, his other hand holding the umbrella, he still managed to keep you on your feet, his hand squeezing your waist tightly.

"Gojo–"

"Stop it!"

"Let go of me!"

"You're going to get sick!"

"I don't fucking care!"

"No, I'll take you home–"

"Gojo Satoru!"

Satoru gave up as you writhed from his embrace. He dropped his umbrella, using both his hands to grab your waist, and kissing you in the rain.

His tongue was invading, seeking every corner of your mouth desperately. Fuck, he missed this. He missed you so much. And he didn't even care if the rain was slowly ruining his hair and clothes, as long as he had you right here in his arms.

It was a dangerous dance underneath the cold waters beneath the rain. Two lovers, hopelessly trying to heal their broken hearts. Their lips tangled together like it was their last chance to be like this again.

"Satoru..."

"I'll take you home..."

How did you let yourself become weak for him?

You handed him a towel as both of you entered your home. Despite how upset you are with him, you couldn't possibly just leave him wet by the rain and catch a cold. You were just being nice, you said to yourself. It's not because of your affection towards him, you're just being a helpful woman who still has a heart so you invited him into your house. Thats it, that's all there is, perhaps.

Before you can leave him, Satoru holds your hand, electrifying the two of you to stop you from your tracks. You tried to look at him in the eye, but it was impossible. Satoru doesn't even try to hide how much he's hurting in front of you, and that just doubles the pain that you're feeling right now.

"Let's talk..." He said weakly. "Please? I'm not leaving if we don't talk."

"Satoru, please, just let it go..."

"No," he shakes his head stubbornly. "You mean so much to me."

Your breath hitched as he pulled you close, cupping your cheeks with both hands as he leaned his forehead against yours.

"It's true, we did make a bet..." He closed his eyes, the words falling in his mouth felt like daggers shot straight to his heart. "And I hate myself for it. For being a prideful jerk who wanted to prove he can have whoever he wants, and hurting you in the process..."

Satoru breathed heavily, his hands rubbing circles on your cheek. "Before I knew it, I was down badly on my knees. I wanted you. I love you. I wanted to spend each and every waking moment with you. And I told Suguru, and Shoko, that I wanted to stop whatever game we agreed upon, so I can start loving you truthfully..."

"Satoru..."

"And I felt so alive, baby. When you told me you love me too, when you let me be your boyfriend, when you finally accepted my love for you. Fuck, I can die a happy man. I just... love you. I love being loved by you. I love it when you let me love you. I love it when you do nothing and it just drives me wild. I love it every time I see your eyes looking at me. I love hearing your voice, seeing you smile, and love it even more when you let me hold your hand! I love every single piece of your soul, and I want you. I want to always be with you. My heart aches for you, baby... please..."

He was crying. Oh, god, he was crying as he confessed everything to you. And you swear your heart wants to come out from your chest.

Your heart was swelling, he was mending your bruises, healing your scars in every word he uttered. Your tears were falling nonstop, and your hands quiver to place it above his.

"Satoru..." You sobbed, looking at his helpless blue eyes who'd been crying buckets as well. "I hate the fact that I love you so much."

Satoru heaved a gasp as he pulled you to his embrace, sealing you in a wet kiss. Somehow, it didn't even feel cold anymore now that you have your arms around him again.

His face settled on your neck, and he was catching his breath. He ran his hands in your hair, holding you tight as if he was afraid to let you go.

"Don't leave me again..."

"I won't. I promise." You let out a low chuckle. This time, you cupped his cheek so he could look at you. "I love you so much, Satoru. I'm so sorry for hurting you."

"I deserved it." He smiled. Finally, he was smiling at you. "And I love you more."

Satoru made sure he's not letting you escape this time. Everyday, he's going to make it up to you. He's going to tell you how much he loves you, and he's going to make sure you'll never even forget it until you fall asleep. He's going to love you like it's breathing, and he promised to himself he's going to love you until the next lifetime.

***

i know i said I'll do the part 2 of my Suguru fic, but im so sorry this was in my head for ages 😭 i promised ill start part 2 in a while... anyways, thanks for reading! its not proofread so im sorry for any typographical errors and spelling ^^