#I’ve got the same thing with my older sister | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tteokdoroki · 1 year ago

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IF IT’S ONLY A TOUCH…AITA? - satoru gojo.

✩ — about. “but one day, she just grew up…and i haven’t been able to look at her the same.” satoru gojo never meant to fuck his best friend’s little sister. he never meant to make her fall in love him. he never meant to fall in love with her. satoru doesn’t want anyone to know, suguru has no idea and she wants to tell the whole world…does that make him the asshole? … ( 46.5K )

✩ — warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! nsfw, smut, angst with a bittersweet ending. college!au, age gaps ( reader is 22, satoru gojo is 27 ), forbidden romance, toxic relationships, situationships, co-dependency ( on suguru geto ), controlling older brother, panic attacks, violence, fight scenes, arguments, alcohol mentions, smoking weed, manipulation, gaslighting, three smut scenes, spit, praise, dumbification, fingering (f!receiving), hand jobs (m!receiving), pussy jobs, dry humping, hold the moan, light!choking, light!oral-fixation, public sex, bathroom sex, clothed sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (f + m!receiving), overstimulation, orgasm control, multiple orgasms, creampies, adopted geto!reader, fem!reader.

✩ — things to note. my entry for @ohkento ‘s reddit collab ! i’d like to thank everyone for their patience with this labour of love. it was first a silly idea that blossomed into something more complex and beautiful. i love this fic so much and i hope you do too!! special thanks to @todorosie for beta reading n all your encouragement!! and to @rinhaler for the sukuna reference hehe <3 - m.list ⋆ playlist ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪𖤐₊ ⊹

AITA (27M) FOR FUCKING MY BEST FRIEND'S (26M) LITTLE SISTER (22F)? hey reddit. i’ll get straight into it. i met my best friend, we’ll call him S, when we were kids, as young as five i guess, and we’ve been inseparable ever since. he was there for me at my lowest, and right by my side at my highest. i’ve never been the greatest person…but there isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for me and vice versa. that’s why i feel so bad. he’s got this younger sister, i used to find her so annoying, but one day… she just grew up and i haven’t been able to look at her the same. we started fooling around two years ago around the time she’d settled into college but decided to keep it a secret from her brother. now she’s graduated from college and wants to take the next step… TLDR: we’ve been fucking around for two years but now she’s graduated and is ready to be more serious with our relationship. she wants to tell her brother — i’m unsure. AITA?

coming back home after four years of brutal education, late nights studying and heavy textbooks feels… almost comforting.

sure, you’ve been home for the holidays before, and sometimes between semesters when things got a little bit rough. but this time around, being home feels more like a relief — an aura of permanency surrounding the occasion. at home, there’s home cooked meals instead of stale take-out and the house you’ve been raised in smells of warm spices rather than the unpleasant combination of old beer and dorm parties.

there’s peace in being at home instead of college after four long years. it’s rewarding almost, to know that you’re welcomed back into the arms of the people who love you most after years of blood, sweat and tears. you’ve made it. you’re on the other side. you’ve got a degree under your belt and a bright, prosperous future ahead of you.

letting out a determined huff, you throw your suitcases down onto the end of your bed — pushed up against the window of your childhood bedroom. the walls are a colour you no longer like (lime green… what were you thinking?) plastered with posters from groups you no longer listen to and movies you would only watch for comfort now that you’re a little bit older. nostalgia is warm under your skin as you look around at your teenage safe space, until your big doe eyes land on your sticker covered closet.

being home for just the weekend, you thought you’d kill two birds with one stone. unpack the clothes you no longer need at your college dorm whilst joining your parents for a celebration. they had wanted you to come down from your university town in order to commemorate the end of your degree, since they’ll be abroad on business for your graduation ceremony in a few months time. not to mention, the outstanding job offer you’d received not long after being awarded your final marks.

your brother, suguru, would be joining you for the weekend as well. temporarily taking up space in his own childhood bedroom just across the hall — the keep out sign with black and yellow restricted tape still hanging from the white wooden door. geto had long since moved out of your parents place, what with him being five years older than you. he now had a job in the city as a big shot lawyer with hardly any time for his little sister anymore. so the fact that he was making the trip down just to celebrate you meant more than you could put into words.

he hadn’t arrived yet, however, and your parents were busy downstairs sorting out your favourite home cooked dinner (oxtail, a favourite) to care about what you were up to — leaving you to unpack in comfortable solitude. you decide to start with your night clothes, the darkness of the winter’s evening starting to bleed into the purple painted sky. you’ll be sleepy soon, no doubt.

turning your back on the window, you move to set your toiletries and a fresh pair of pyjamas on the back of your desk chair — hardly noticing the way the window panes creak open, accompanied by the chill of a light december breeze. the gentle tread of footsteps across your carpeted floor go without attention as well, you’re too occupied with sorting through your things to pay attention to anything. not until it’s too late.

“boo!”

large and possessive hands on your hips make you jump in fright, relaxing only when you hear the familiar teasing baritone against the shell of your ear. “did you miss me?” gojo purrs, using his hold on the flesh at your waist to spin you around to face him. your palms settle on the broad spread of his sturdy shoulders while his fingers dip into the back pocket of your low-waist jeans — leaving very little room between your bodies.

“satoru!” you exhale sincerely with the wisps of a smile spreading across your lips and twitching at the corner of your mouth. “what are you doing here? when did you get back?” like butter in a heated pan, you melt into the man’s arms, those same arms wrapping around your waist fully to pull you further into him. you feel dumb and lovestruck, tucked into the plushness of gojo’s chest as if you’d never left.

“i couldn't miss my special girl’s special weekend, now could i?” the toothy smirk satoru gives you is enough to make your knees knock and you’re reminded that you’re lucky enough to be held up in his arms. happiness simmers hotly through your veins at the thought. a million and one girls would kill to be in your position, to have a man as handsome as the satoru gojo in their bedroom, all alone, sapphire blue eyes honed in on you and only you.

he’s unlike any man you’ve ever met before. he’s so beautiful, not just anyone will do if it ever came to replacing him. he’s tall enough to tower over you, and make you feel small in a way that isn’t terrible at all. his hair is as white as winter frosts and unfairly soft for someone who probably doesn’t take as much care for it as he should. his lashes flutter against your forehead, long and to die for. satoru gojo is a beauty if you ever saw one — and you find yourself grateful to keep him all to yourself. in this moment. of course.

the look he gives you itself is enough to keep you alive, make your cheeks tingle with heat just under the skin, make you feel like a schoolgirl about to give a note to her crush. but a million and one girls don’t have to hide their crushes or keep them secret, their relationships probably aren’t as complex or confusing as your own with the man before you.

things with gojo have always been weird…ever since you were young. he found you annoying and whiny, back then, he along with your adoptive brother would pick on you until your eyes were big and shiny and your nose a little snotty. in those times, suguru (who babied you too much for your own good on occasion) often followed his best friend’s lead, maybe because satoru was older (despite them both being five years ahead of you in age) and the more dominating personality of the two best friends. it was easy to think that he might have even despised you then, or to imagine that suguru would grow up adoring you. yet, for satoru, it all changed one summer after your eighteenth birthday, when you just… shot up. you filled out, your demeanour changed, you became everything that he ever wanted.

satoru was spoilt. he always had been, even from childhood. the gojo clan had built an empire and he was right at the heart of it as soon as he left college. the white haired man with the dazzling rows of perfect teeth had all the money and power in the world — right in the palm of his dangerous hands. obtaining what he wanted was as easy as snapping his fingers, and in an instant he could have all the booze and babes he desired. whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. the issue with being a man of satoru gojo’s calibre is the difficulty in drawing a line in the sand and knowing when to stop. men like him have everything, but only desire what they can’t have.

he only desires you.

see, early on in his friendship with your brother, suguru had given satoru one plain and simple rule. one that he could never break so long as he walked god’s green earth and breathed fresh air into his lungs.

suguru had made him promise never to go near you, sexually or romantically.

they’d known one another their entire lives, been together through thick and thin, ups and downs. if anyone knew what the real satoru gojo was really like… it would be your brother. he had seen every arc of gojo like the phases of the moon up above. satoru was a partier, he drank until his veins were 50% alcohol and poured the bourbon until all of his organs were burned black. he smoked away his burdens, numbing his brain with whatever he could get his hands on. people, back in college, were just as disposable to gojo as his father’s income and even now, with his position at the heart of Gojo Corporations — satoru was no more stable than a drowning child, struggling to keep his head above the water and air in his scarred lungs.

he was in no position to look out for you like suguru did. to the older geto, you were a prized possession and a treasure to be cherished. his innocent baby sister who was too sweet for the hard liquor gojo drank by the gallons and the papers that knew to tear him apart by name. you needed someone to rely on, someone to look out for you when the world gets tough and the rose tinted glass ceiling shatters down on you. suguru had tried his hardest to shield to growing up, becoming partly responsible for your dependence on him.

he learned how to braid your hair and cook the foods you liked before moving to japan for your adoption. when he wasn’t being mean to you along with satoru, suguru cared for you deeply. he was a good adoptive brother.

so, it was a wonder how you even managed to get into and go to university all on your own — without your older brother’s watchful eye to keep you safe from the dangers of men, sex and money.

and gojo, being gojo, was never a stickler for the rules. he’d innocently reached out to you once you’d settled into college, under the guise of checking on his best friend’s little sister. much to his amusement, you’d already broken out of the safety net your brother had cast over you — you were more brazen and adventurous, sleeping around between study sessions and partying when you’d told your family you were tired from the week’s work.

before anyone knew it, you’d become the college girl who liked to be wined and dined by older men — presenting the perfect opportunity for satoru to sweep you off your feet.

texts to check on you every once in a while became calls to ask about your day and wish each other good morning and good night. these little things, as sweet as they might have seemed, snowballed into something bigger. something more. at least to you. you were falling in love with satoru gojo, and fast. it was the first time you’d ever felt like that towards someone, and he’d gotten you right where he wanted you.

it wasn’t long before you were paying off your dorm mates to keep quiet about having an older man over, no less gojo. you were naive but not stupid, it wouldn’t take an idiot to know that geto had people keeping an eye on you nor that money was what made the world go round — people would do anything for a hefty price or designer bag. they kept their lips sealed each and every time gojo swung by your dorm to pin your knees to your ears and fuck you raw until your voice was hoarse and there was a dent in your wall from the force of his thrusts against the bed frame.

satoru had been the one to take your virginity, of course. suguru would have had an aneurism if he ever found out.

and while you loved the thrill of sneaking around with someone older, someone who seemed to know the world better than you ever could, someone who excited you — there were times where you wished your heart hadn’t chosen the enigma that is satoru gojo. your relationship with him ruined the little time you had to explore yourself in college. he knew all of your friends, he knew all of the boys in your classes and the ones that dared to hang out with you outside of them. he sometimes paid them off to break your heart or cheat on you just so that you’d go running back into his arms — bleary eyed and emotionally drained.

satoru knew about your every move — the parties you went to and the socials you attended. you were never able to mess around with people, not with the tabs he had on you. silly little you, don’t you know? you’re satoru’s property.

the worst thing he could have done to you is fail to put a label on your relationship. you were never his girlfriend and he would always dance around the question like he was avoiding a bullet to the chest. ‘what are we?’ you would ask, and like always, satoru would grin lazily and slowly — in the way that brews a hazy fog over your mind and respond with. ‘whatever you want me to be.’

what you wanted was something official. not to be satoru’s little pet, hidden away from the rest of the world while in private he promises you that you’re the only girl he’s ever loved. it hit hardest whenever you would go to visit him, noting another’s car in the driveway that wasn’t yours or satoru’s. you knew that you never meant much…but in actuality it was slowly killing you now. he gave you comfort, gave you warmth but whenever you woke, he was gone by the morning. that’s how it always was.

a piece of you threatened to crumble each and every time your lover was plastered over the tabloids and gossip magazines with another heiress. you wanted to tell the world that you were his and he was yours. you wanted suguru to know too.

oftentimes, satoru would ease your worries with a simple toe curling and mind numbing kiss to your butter-glossed lips, uttering the words ‘but, wouldn’t that ruin our little secret?’

the very secret made you feel dirty and used.

if satoru didn’t let you, then you could never bring yourself to tell suguru. it would break his heart, his entire soul to know that his angelic little sister was taking her eyes off of the very expensive prize of her university degree. and so, the track of your fragmented relationship (situationship?) with your mischievous white haired lover replays over and over again like a broken record — scratched and scathed.

satoru comes over, you fight or cry, and he ends up balls deep inside of you — creaming your little cunt in a hotel off campus or paying off your friends to spend your night in your dorm again.

when you finally graduated, you remember one of said friends asking. ‘will you ever go public with that… guy you’re always fucking? i mean… he practically lives with you.’

at the time, you’d pressed your lips into a thin and telling line. you couldn’t. you wouldn’t. they’d laughed about it then and you knew what conclusions were running through their minds. what a dumb, naive little rich girl, for thinking she was anything more than a sidechick.

if only you could just show them the lengths satoru would go to be with you in the secrecy of your own little bubble.

like right now.

“sweetheart, where’d you go?” cocking his head down at you, satoru’s sugarcoated, sickly sweet coo runs through your ears like molten sugar and drags you from the depths of deep thought. he clicks his teeth, using a thumb and forefinger to tilt your head up in order to face him — positioning you like his own marionette doll. “came all this way to see you, only for you to get lost in that pretty little head of yours.”

it’s patronising, the way he speaks to you as if you’re a child — but it’s all you’ve ever known. being babied by your lover and even your brother. “s-sorry! i was just… thinking…” you supply as a meek excuse, shuddering when gojo slips a thumb over the slightly cracked skin of your bottom lip. the impending winter’s cold had been nipping at it in his place.

“about me?”

you scoff playfully, begrudgingly pulling yourself from satoru’s grip before he makes your brain too overcast to even focus about unpacking. “about graduation. i can’t believe it’s all over.”

returning to unfolding some casual wear left in your bag, your mind begins to wander if satoru misses you as much as you miss him whenever you’re not touching. your skin feels alive, teaming with life, whenever he’s nearby — as if two magnets that couldn’t be more different have attracted one another instead of repelling. it’s like you need to be near him in order to breathe, to feel, to exist.

your…boyfriend? makes himself comfortable on your bed, trailing his index finger over the pink patterned sheets. you realise then, that you’ll never truly understand what’s going on in his head.

“i am proud of you, yanno.” gojo comments casually. he man-spreads across the edge of your bed, leaning back against his elbows as if to draw your eyes to the treasure between his thick jean-clad thighs. “not every day my pretty baby graduates with honours. such a smart little girl, hm?” it’s cruel really, how dumb he makes you out to be — but in a way, it makes your insides twist and a flutter make its way up to your chest.

you shrug as if it’s nothing, hanging your clothes up in the closet before you return to the bedside. “it’s a wonder i managed, ‘toru. you were always distracting me,” memories of your illicit activities on nights before papers were due or exams were to be taken flash behind his vibrant azure eyes, and satoru grins mischievously as his strong arms snake around your waist — his head pressed against your smooth tummy. “i have to unpack.” you remind him gently.

but then he looks up at you, like a sweet pet that begs for food, dragging you into the shining blue pools of his eyes that you can never seem to escape. and before you know it, you’re drowning in gojo’s attention once again.

“did you miss me?”

satoru let’s his fingers slide under your loose top and gives your hips a possessive squeeze, watching you with baited breath.

“‘toru, you’ve asked me that already.”

he squeezes again, harder, the rough pads of his fingers sinking into your mid-section, all needy like. he’s desperate to know that you haven’t found anyone else. “i missed you,” satoru quips in place of your silence. “i hate being away from you for so long, work sucks.”

as if he ever did any real work. satoru was just the pretty poster boy for his dad’s company — it worked out well though, you’d seen the amount of zeros in his bank account yourself. “i’ll be getting a job too, did you know that? at that big fashion editorial. you know the one, Heavenly Pact magazine. it’ll be in the city too so we can be closer together. it’s why suguru is taking us to dinner.”

satoru finds your gushing adorable, pulling you to stand between his legs as you go on and on.

“and where d’ya think suguru got that idea from?” he coos. “i had him set up a reservation at that place you like… yanno, the one where we spent our two years. something about the sushi there. you liked it.”

satoru talks about the day as if you were really dating. two years. seven hundred and thirty days spent fawning over him and chasing the white haired male like a lost puppy. you couldn’t even call it an anniversary, not when you weren’t official. though, he’d taken the time to spoil you — he dressed you in diamonds and designer, picked you up in a fancy car that probably cost more than your rent, booked out the whole restaurant and filled it with your favourite flowers. gojo had made you feel like you were special, something special to him, and as usual you fell for the smoke screens and mirrors that masked how he truly felt.

how he wanted to own every part of you.

you’d wanted to celebrate two years being tied to one another and he let you, because in order to take — you have to give a little.

gojo somehow feels closer than before, his lips treading lightly over your supple stomach while his thumbs trace circles over your hips. you preen into his touch, love bristling in your chest and replacing the heaviness that weighs it down. “you’re coming?”

“wouldn’t miss it for the world, baby.” comes his husky, breathy whisper — uttered against your warm skin like a promise of love and support. satoru presses a wet kiss just above your navel all while slyly tugging your shirt further up, distracting you from the task at hand (folding clothes).

something stirs within your lower tummy, a blistering hot sensation spreads from your core to your chest, your mind and all four of your limbs as if someone’s thrown gasoline onto a fire. gojo’s curious silver tongue travels further — tracing over the saltine droplets of sweat on your skin while he licks up to your rib cage. every twist of his pink muscle against you makes your breath catch in the ridges of your throat and your entire body wrack with a case of the shakes.

still, you continue to unpack, struggling with the items in your grip as large palms claw up your back and force you down into satoru’s widespread lap, not that you mind — being pressed up all against him. “oooh, that’s cute,” satoru taunts you playfully, pulling back from the love marks he’s painted where your breasts meet your ribs. he blinks over at the article of clothing between your nimble fingers, white flashes tickling your skin as he does so.

his scent is so overwhelming you can’t even think, not at all what one would expect. it’s fresh, almost cold to inhale, like peppermint, pine and cool air from the highest peak of the mountain.

you look down at gojo dumbly, earning yourself the sound of his melodious laughter. in response, he juts his head in the direction of your hand. “your bra, you gonna wear that for me?”

shifting your gaze over to the baby blue lace, you grin and toss it aside — using your free hands to push satoru back against your sheets.

“maybe, if you’re lucky.”

he growls in reply, predatory and playful all at once, lifting his head, with his pool of silver-moon hair rising from your bed, to capture your lips in a slow, spit-swapping kiss. he allows you to pin his wrists above his head, barely putting up a fight as you swallow him down and devour him whole — your tongues clash for dominance, slipping and sliding over one another while your hands do the same to the silver roots of his hair.

one of your hands travel down to cup his cheek, tilting gojo’s head up just a tad more so that you can pour more of your passion into him. the kiss becomes, in the only way that you can describe it, hurried and hungry — the more of yourself you give to him, the more satoru becomes filled with your love and innermost parts of your soul. you give and give and give until his glass is full to the brim.

you grow weaker by the second, falling victim to the predatory, hot mouth of your lover and your grip on his wrists loosen just enough for his calloused fingertips to fluidly cascade down your body — finding purchase in the loops of your pesky jeans, tugging them away from your marred flesh and soft ass. once he’s bored with toying with your clothes, the silver haired man uses his reach on your ass to push you closer, kiss you harder, grind his swelling erection into the gap between your plush thighs.

the two of you can’t be closer, noses knocking against one another clumsily and breath becoming scarce as your lungs ache and burn for a fresh in-take of oxygen between drooly lip locks. it’s messy, you’re both messy — your relationship always has been. but in this very moment, you can’t find it in yourself to care, addicted to the weight of gojo’s tongue in your mouth and the way his smooth, glossy lips feel against your own. both of your chests heave, your bodies growing hotter and tenser each time you swirl your hips down onto him or he bucks up into you.

“baby,” satoru sighs airily, twitching underneath you — all restless and impatient. “you’re so pretty like this, on’top’a me,” his crystal blue eyes have darkened to a midnight blue, almost black with a list that makes his pupils blow wide. you’ve seen this change too many times to be unfamiliar with what satoru wants. that very thing being you. “smoke with me a little?” his plea barely covers up the low moan that escapes him as your hips jerk against him. his touch scorches through the all-too-tight denim hugging your waist, leaving burn marks at your tail bone. he’s desperate for this, desperate for you.

how can you say no.

your face splits into an angelic, agreeable grin. just what satoru likes to see. “c’mon then, where’s your stash?” in reply, he lifts his hips higher from the bed — nudging the thick outline of his cock against your sensitive clothed pussy.

“sorry.” he lies easily. “back pocket.”

moving to dig around in said pocket, you pull out gojo’s tiny baggy of weed — noting the joints he’d probably rolled up prior to coming here. sometimes, you had the nagging thought that your man always loved you better when you were a little bit high. you gloss over the idea, however, reaching into your nightstand nearby for your sanrio lighter while you toss gojo the bag. he picks out a blunt for you to share and you trigger the flame.

you take the joint between your lips, plumped up from all the kissing you’ve been doing, and let satoru wrap a bulky arm around your middle — pinning you to his larger-than-yours frame. his chest is plush, warm, and you can feel your heartbeats beginning to sync up beneath your clothes. you hold the lighter to one end, bambi eyes reflecting the orange yellow flame that sets the wrapper alight and hum in content whilst you inhale.

you hold. exhale. and when the smoke clears, gojo is looking up at you as if you hold the entire universe in your gaze.

“you’re so fuckin’ pretty.”

that sweet giggle of yours rings out into the night air. you take a hit before you press your mouth to satoru’s — breathing the smoke into his lungs.

you’re spoiling him. he knows you don’t really like to smoke, but you’re always sweetest when he gets you a little fucked up.

“so you’ve said, ‘toru.”

he swipes the blunt from your grip and takes a drag for himself, tapping the ashes out against your sheets as he picks up the salacious motions of his hips again. and like the obedient little thing you are, you grind against him, mewling into his milky skin that’s illuminated by the shy slither of moonlight that peeks on you both through your curtains.

“i mean it, sweet thing,” another hit, his voice even huskier from the aromatic fumes — even as he gripes lowly into the shell of your ear. “fuck, you’re so perfect like this. grinding on my lap like a needy little girl, hm?”

whining out for him, you let satoru stick the blunt back in your mouth and sit up — bucking down on his hard, heavy erection as if you’re riding his cock like you usually do. “satoru,” you purr while the weed begins to take residence over your brain, take its effect. you recognise that the supply is from sukuna, the older brother of a boy you knew from college. yuuji itadori, was it? you’d always found him cute but he had a girlfriend and gojo told you to stop worrying about him a long time ago. the very thought sparks something in the back of your mind — at war with giving into satoru’s touch and how it makes its way underneath your clothes to thumb at your pebbling nipples. “‘toru…when are you going to tell sugu about us?”

the mention of your brother should be enough to kill the mood, but you’ve been away from gojo far too long. he’s already got his sights set on ruining you for some fun tonight, pushing his luck by slipping his fingers past your tight waistband in order to mess with your slick pussy folds against your panties.

“do i need to?” he drawls, laughs a little, voice breaking through the thick barrier of ardour built up in his throat. “s’not that important. telling him. we’re having fun, right? things are good the way they are.” gojo sticks his tongue out in concentration, fumbling between layers of clothes for your cute little clit and grinning ear to ear when he finds it — watching you quiver and fail to hold yourself up above him as he presses down on the nub, hard. “what good would it do, telling him?”

you could think of a million reasons why, but all of them fail to rush to the forefront of your mind — blocked by desire and the lingering weed in your system. “i…i want to mean somethin’ to you,” comes your babyish voice, hurt and whiny through your pout. satoru takes the blunt from you, rubbing your cunt through your words as they catch in your throat. “wanna be serious with you. want something more. i-i’m a proper adult now… i deserve — oh fuck!”

you don’t even know why you bring the fact up. that you’re an adult, that you’re grown now. because you’re still a naive little thing who wants so much more from someone older and more experienced. because you’re still suguru’s younger sister to satoru, not his girlfriend. just his forbidden plaything.

satoru smiles wickedly again as you fail to express yourself, becoming a pliant sticky mess all over his fingers while their tips graze your clit over and over again in rough circles. “‘m sure you are, my big girl yeah?” he’s so cruel to you, talking down on you while he plays your sopping mound like a fiddle. pinching and pulling at your folds and your poor little clit. “you’re so close, aren’t you? think you might cum from a couple’a fingers ‘n a bit of weed…”

heat brews under the surface of your skin, most hot at the centre of your face where you start to feel humiliated and embarrassed. even more so because you like it, when the silver haired man is mean to you like this. “satoru…t-that’s not what i meant—“ you try, gushing and crying. “s-satoru i’m g-gonna—!”

knock, knock, knock.

“hey little one, i’m home!”

the pair of you jump apart at the smooth sound of suguru’s calm and timbre voice.

it’s like a shock to your system, like being doused with cold water or waking up from a hangover after one too many shots. with wild eyes you look from your half-hard boyfriend to the open window — immediately shoving up and pulling his hands from your pants. “g-get up!” you seethe, teeth and tongue, all of your syllables rushed.

“was that suguru?” gojo asks, voice elevated with panic while he puts the blunt out against your windowsill.

you nod vigorously, using your shaky limbs to push satoru back out the way he came. “yes! now go!”

“hey, little one? it’s me, suguru..”

he scrambles to climb back out the window and you lean over the edge to watch him go — accepting the chaste kiss he gives you on the way out. the second that gojo is out of view, you chuck the half-smoked joint into your trash can and kick the rest of sukuna’s supply underneath your bed to cover up the evidence.

“c-come in!” you finally squeak, putting on your best smile for your adoptive older brother.

your bedroom door swings open, revealing a tired suguru with tousled clothes and sleepy dark eyes. he looks older, maturer, but he’s still the same brother you love and grew up with. “there’s my little princess,” he cheers, tying back the dark tresses of his (much) longer hair before he opens his arms wide to give you a hug.

you quickly accept, nuzzling your cheek against suguru’s firm shoulder (also wiping your tears on him). “sugu! when did you get back?”

“not too long ago. i tried calling, but you didn’t pick up.” his voice is laced with suspicion and you swear you hear him sniff the air from above your head — close to catching the traces of weed on you.

“i was… unpacking!” stepping back, you stumble over to your toiletries that you’d begun to unpack earlier and eagerly (a little too eagerly) spritz some of your expensive perfume into the air. “s-sorry! i’m the thinking of wearing this scent to dinner on sunday…any thoughts?”

you swear you hear gojo groan from outside, no doubt listening in on your conversation with his best friend and your older brother — no doubt finding your excuse flimsily and unbelievable. suguru, despite it all, takes the bait or chooses not to bite any further — his eyes no longer narrowed and his face relaxed.

“speaking of things to wear for sunday night…” he begins, digging deep into his left pocket for a small red velvet box. “i got you a little something, as…congrats for all of your hard work recently.”

suguru reaches forward to take your hand in his, turning it over so that he can place the box in the centre of your palm. you glance up at your older brother hesitantly, but he only gives you a warm reassuring smile — gesturing for you to open it.

you do we told, the box creaking open at his hinges to reveal a real diamond necklace with a beautiful, dazzling sapphire pendant at its centre. just by looking it at it, you know that the sapphire and silver combination will contrast decadently against the deep, sun-kissed tones of your skin.

“o-oh sugu, you shouldn’t have!”

“but i did, think of it as my parting gift to you.” the older geto sibling explains kindly. “you’re going out into the world to do something special, to help people. you deserve to be spoiled before you get there.” his gentle hands close the box for you, setting it aside on your dresser before suguru links your fingers — staring down at you wistfully. “everything out there is dangerous. people will try to take advantage of you and your kindness. but like gem stone in hard shell rock, you must preserve that little shine of yours…” you let him brush at a dry tear mark on your cheek, your fingers slipping down to his wrist to hold them tight. “i will always be here to look out for you, no matter what. but i won’t always be able to be by your side.”

the seriousness of the conversation overwhelms you with a weighty guilt. suguru has always looked after you and done his best to keep you away from any harm. you imagine that satoru would be right in how destroyed your brother would feel after finding out you ran into the arms of the biggest danger of all.

his best friend.

so you suck it up, mask your guilt and press a kiss to your brother’s cheek — hoping that he’ll forgive you if the truth ever surfaces.

“i know, thank you sugu,” comes your simple, appreciative reply. “i’ll always have you, and satoru too.”

he laughs and kisses your forehead “that you will. but don’t get too close to him okay? he’s trouble. i wouldn’t want him to mess things up for you.”

“i know, suguru.”

the exchange is left at that, with suguru patting your shoulder as he bids you a goodnight. your entire body sags with relief once he’s gone, similar to that of a snake shedding its skin. you can’t keep lying to him like this but you don’t want to break his heart. maybe satoru was right. maybe you were wrong. either way, you feel conflicted and torn between two.

when you go to close the window, satoru is still waiting for you — safely on the ground below. his blue eyes beg to come back inside, to be with you, but you’ve danced with the devil too much tonight. gojo won’t take you seriously. he might ruin things for you, just like your brother said.

“call me when you get home safe, okay?” you murmur to him in order to make sure you don’t get caught.

you latch your window closed right after, not even bothering to wait for gojo’s reply.

either you’ll keep sneaking around with him or you’ll eventually give him up, but for tonight — you decide that you’ll just shut the silver snake out.

“i’ve never known you to like the colour blue so much.”

the day before your fancy and celebratory dinner — suguru geto decided that his spoiled little sister isn't quite spoiled enough. growing up, he’d bring you toys from his shitty part time job at the department store on weekends or food from the chef’s at satoru’s place after hanging out with that loser all day.

in college, it would be magnets or posters or big, surprisingly well-made hoodies from the campus gift shop because suguru would always tell you that his little one would be going to university too — that you’d do him proud and achieve big things. you were destined for so much more and had every ounce of support in your corner. from your brother, your parents…there’s always been a pressure on your shoulder to make something of yourself, become someone worthy of their support.

by the time suguru had graduated and landed his own job — the little gifts he’d gotten you became pricier and more luxurious. your brother had called them items of encouragement, a taste of what was to come once you made it out into the real world. not that he would actually ever let you spend a dime of your own, big brothers were supposed to be there for sweet little sisters like you to fall back on. he wanted you to know that he would always have you covered, have you spoiled with everything you’d ever wanted — mostly to keep your standards high, ensuring that you never settled for anything less than what your older sibling could provide you with.

that’s how days like today first came about — you called it sibling bonding time.

first on the agenda was breakfast at the humble little bakery your parents often treated you both to after a batch of good grades at school. it wasn’t too far from the house and you use the walk to catch up, bouncing excitedly by your brother’s side while he gushed to you about highly classified information from his line of work. there was always something to admire about suguru, how dedicated he was to keeping you safe and making a name for himself outside of the shelter of your home.

in some ways, you wanted to be just like him. it could've been that you admired suguru too much or leaned on him even more. interdependency as some would call it.

that didn’t matter to you though, your relationship with your brother has always been precious to you and that’s all that matters.

the rest of your early morning was spent with a pampering session, manicures, and pedicures and makeup testing — even a trip to the hair stylist who happily braided your bountiful curls into your favourite look.

next, was a late afternoon shopping spree. suguru drives you into the fanciest mall he can think of to spend the day. the elitist of the elite. designer stores were plotted at every corner, stocked to the brim with luxury goods that wouldn’t even put a dent in your brother’s salary nowadays. if you wanted it, you got it — without a word or question against you. suguru let you fill your basket with a purse and bag for the evening ahead, and right now, the last thing on your agenda would be the perfect dress to wear to your dinner.

that’s what had brought you to this very moment, the one where you completely blank on your brother because he’s noticed something different about you.

something akin to a nuisance of a crush on gojo satoru.

blinking once, you turn on your heel to face suguru and snap out of your distant thoughts. “i-i’m sorry, what was that?”

the older, raven haired man smiles at you as if you’re being silly — as though there aren’t any thoughts up in that pretty little head of yours. “i said, you’ve grown awfully fond of the colour blue recently.” he keeps his voice soft and comforting while speaking to you, avoiding any accusatory tones that might set his sensitive younger sister off. “it’s not even your favourite colour.” geto adds, approaching you by the clothes rack in what seems to be your fifth designer fashion store.

you may be spoilt but at least you have taste — the number of zeroes on the price tag was never an issue for your brother anyway.

he gestures down at the items folded over your crossed arms — the ones you wanted to take to the back and try on. heat flashes under the surface of your skin when you realise suguru is in fact right. there’s a plethora of fabric bundled in your arms with only one thing in common.

they all share the shade of a baby powder blue.

it’s the type of blue that reminds you of the sky on days where the weather is just right — when the sun is able to pierce through the veil of fluffy white clouds and shine down on you. the type of blue that hides behind lilac and orange when the sun rises at dawn. the type of blue that sometimes reminds you of clear winter skies after snowfall and drawing shapes in your condensed breath on the glass.

it’s the type of blue akin to satoru gojo’s brilliant eyes — the ones that look as though they hold unseen stars or undiscovered galaxies, the secrets of the universe yet to be known by mankind. oh those eyes, they’re so dreamy that you could get lost in them for a milenia and never be bored.

to anyone who knows about the two of you — it would make sense for blue to have become one of your favourite colours. it is the embodiment of satoru, everything down to loving him is blue, and bleak and beautiful all at once.

yet, suguru could never know that. it would ruin everything.

“i just…i just think it’s pretty!” internally, you feel yourself cringe and the weak excuse — threading your fingers through the dresses in your hold. “don’t you think the colour would like nice on me, sugu? if not, i can put them back—“

your older brother grabs at your wrist before you can even think to commit such an action — stopping you from putting anything back onto the clothes rack. “you’d look pretty in anything you wore, little one.” he lets out a nervous chuckle, moving to pet your head softly. “i just imagined you in something a little more—“

“blue. it’s perfect — isn’t it? it matches my pendant too…” spinning around to face your brother, you hold a beautiful cupcake styled tulle dress to suguru’s gaze, and dawn over its gemstone sweetheart necklace that has a twinkle bright enough to rival satoru’s eyes. you wonder how he’ll look at you once he sees it on you, contrasting perfectly with your warm complexion. a secret, not so innocent part of you hopes that satoru will just rip it off of you. the other, wishes you’d calm down and behave.

suguru offers you a wavering smile, before relenting. “if that’s what you want, sweetheart.” he hums, gesturing towards the fitting rooms. “how about you try it on, see how it looks?”

nodding your head, you shove your discarded choices into his arms and disappear into a booth — excited to see how the article of clothing looks on you. you strip easily, kicking off your jeans while suguru wanders around impatiently outside.

“so…is it a boy that you’re wearing this for?” comes his deep voice through the curtains, lifted in tone only by its teasing lilt.

when you were younger, you would always gush to suguru about your crushes — whether he cared or not, your excited and love-struck musings always struck his ear. you remember being in his room while he studied or gamed, tucked into his side or braiding his luscious black hair while telling him all about how much you loved this one boy in your class. suguru would tell you to mind your heart and keep her safe, a boy who couldn’t buy you diamonds and make you laugh wasn’t the right boy for you.

you would hate to hear what he thinks about gojo then. a man who buys you diamonds, makes you laugh, fucks you good and breaks your heart all at once.

hugging your discarded t-shirt to your chest as if to protect the beating organ, you frown. “it isn’t! why would i dress pretty for some boy?”

“good. boys are dangerous,” clothing ruffles over the sound of suguru’s voice as he reminds you of the lesson he’s taught you many times over the years. trust no man, except for your brother. “i won’t always be here to keep an eye on you or keep you out of said danger. so just…focus on making a name for yourself. especially after you’ve worked so hard to graduate from uni.”

you scoff and grab the dress — debating whether or not you should step into it or pull it over your head. “i’m not a child anymore, sugu. i don’t need you to watch out for me… i’m old enough to make my own choices. i’m responsible too.”

he watches your feet peek out from under the curtains as you mess with the dress and attempt to pull it on. geto’s senses jump to high alert listening to you struggle and shuffle to pull it over your head, resisting the urge to jump in and help you. “don’t pull it over your head when you’ve just gotten your hair done,” he grumbles in light annoyance. “step into it, little one.”

“yeah, i got it!” comes your snappy voice in return while you readjust and try again.

suguru leans against the nearest wall, crossing his arms over his chest — he slips into silence as you slip into your dress. “i know you do, you’re a smart girl.” you get the feeling he’s not talking about how you try it on anymore, and your stomach turns as you adjust the skirts. “but that doesn’t mean i don’t worry. once you lose your focus, everything comes crashing down. that’s what happened to satoru. i wouldn’t want you to end up like him.”

again, your tummy lurches in the worst of ways at the mention of gojo and how much geto hates the idea of the two of you ever getting together. sure, satoru was childish and irresponsible — refuting the orders of the higher ups in his family… he could be disappointing at times too, with questionable loyalty. yet sometimes… sometimes satoru could be so good and stable, oftentimes reminding you of why you wanted to be with him in the first place.

he is special to you, in so many ways that is beyond the web of human comprehension. you love satoru gojo so much that your lungs burn with the need for air whenever he’s not around for you to breathe in.

the idea of not having him around often because of your brother is like oxygen deprivation itself.

“satoru isn’t that bad.” you counter, toying with the beading at your neckline while you inspect yourself in the mirror. he would love it on you. “don’t you think you’re being a little harsh on him? he is your best friend after all.” it takes your all not to bust out and tell your brother all about your relationship with said best friend, even if it kills him and ruins the rose tinted glass above his head.

pushing the curtains open you step out just as geto starts to scold you again. “satoru gojo is lazy and hardly competent, he wouldn’t be right for you and you know that— oh.”

he stops speaking when you step out to show him the dress, your eye bright and doe-like, almost pleading — while the fabric sticks to all the right curves, making you look stunning. making you appear more mature. “help me do the zip f’me, suguru? i can’t reach.”

“come here, i’ve got you,” suguru whispers in quiet awe, turning you gently by the shoulders to do the honours of zipping you in at the low back of the dress. “you look perfect, give me a twirl, hm, little one?”

twirling as told, suguru watches proudly as your skirts flail about the place — it’s sparkle catching on the UV light up above. you’re the perfect angelic picture of his little sister…he doesn’t know how he’ll ever let you go.

there’s still a pout on your lips undoubtedly from what he’s said about gojo and as much as suguru finds your defensiveness for him weird — he hates seeing you upset just as much. “hey, how about we go pay for your dress…” he calls your name and you tilt your head up just a touch, giving your brother your attention unwillingly. “and since we’re here at the shopping centre, we might as well get dinner. my treat? i’ll get you some of your favourites. perhaps boba and we’ll stop by the stuffed animal store on the way out—“ suguru trails off to see if you’ve taken his snare and got stuck in his trap, he knows you can’t resist being spoiled at the end of the day.

you nod faster than your pretty little head can catch up. “sounds like a plan, sugu!”

“i knew you’d say yes,” he snickers proudly, petting your head softly for the second time that late afternoon. then, geto carefully nudges you back into the changing room, patiently waiting for you to remove the dress so he can pay for it while you switch clothes. “i think you made a good choice today. with the dress,” he adds, drawing the curtains for you kindly. “who knows, maybe satoru will even take his head out of his ass to pay you a compliment, admire the colour. he’ll like it for sure.”

you flinch behind the curtains when they close, trying to keep your voice even. “i-i can’t say i’m hoping for it!” to which suguru laughs heartily, accepting the dress as you chuck it out to him.

but what you’re really hoping for, is for him to not connect the dots.

to not find out about yourself and gojo until you’re ready for him too.

the first rule of a situationship, is to never answer the phone after the first ring. that's rule number one for satoru gojo.

it gives the girl the impression that you’re interested in something more than just fooling around, that you want more than the benefits of a relationship while sticking to the talking stage.

but gojo has never been one to follow the rules, not even ones he sets for himself…because when you call, he answers in a heartbeat — just to hear your sweet little voice relaying his name over your tongue and the way you giggle like a darling when he compliments you.

satoru gojo likes you a lot more than he lets on, he misses you even more so. that’s why he answers on the first ring, practically kicking his feet in his king sized bed — he hasn’t heard you say his name since the night you kicked him out, and for good reasons too.

hiding his presence from suguru.

“hi ‘toru.”

“hi gorgeous,” you can practically hear your lover’s smile through the crackling static over the line. “missed you,” gojo slurs lightly, of course, is high by no means other than sukuna’s supply of the good stuff — inhaling it leisurely through a nicely rolled joint while he listens to you call out for him. your voice is so inviting… so angelic… and if satoru shuts his pretty eyes and tries hard enough, he can just about imagine the way you’d sigh for him as his fingers slip right inside of your sweet little pussy—

“i almost told sugu about us today.”

that makes satoru jump upright, choking on a deep inhale of cannabis tainted smoke. his lungs ache from trying to recover and the pain spreads to his toned thighs when he’s realised that he’s dropped the roll up in shock, the lit end burning through the grey sweatpants he wears. “fuck. shit… that hurts. idiot.” the silver haired man curses to himself, forgetting you’re still on the line.

“who me?” you simper a little on the sad side, seemingly shifting in your own bed.

satoru instantly picks up on the pouty twinge to your voice and if he hadn’t been burning to death (dramatic much?) he knows that his cock would have twitched to life between his legs at the dulcet sound. “fuck baby, no not you,” he says, words rushing from his mouth as he reassures you. “why would you tell him? did he figure us out?”

you hesitate with your next words. “w-well, um…not exactly…”

“come on baby, you can say it. s’just me, satoru,” gojo goads you with a condescending echo to each of his words, not putting too much pressure on your sweet and empty little head. “don’t think too much. just be good and tell me.”

while he waits, the man fumbles his way out of bed and stands — somehow managing to tuck his splif between slightly chapped and pale pink lips. he tugs off his shirt, suddenly feeling too hot under the collar, and stalks his way over to his large, wide windows — looking down onto the bustling city below.

it’s kind of funny, how noisy it is down there, creating almost as much of a ruckus as the racing thoughts in satoru’s brain.

“i wanted to tell him…because suguru doesn’t think that you deserve me.” you finally say, submissively telling gojo what’s on your mind. it hurts like a bitch to hear, it stings at every unresolved trauma and open wound that he has — not because it’s a lie, but because gojo doesn’t want to accept that reality.

a reality where he can’t have you, because he could never be someone who meets his best friend’s standards and expectations for you.

be someone that you deserve.

gojo exhales the smoke through his nose, letting it sting at his nostrils while he decays from the inside out. if this were any other drug he’d have smokers lungs by age twenty-seven. “well ain’t that the truth.” he mumbles, grim.

“now satoru, why would you say that?” you sound like you’re about to cry.

“because, it’s not far off is it?” gojo really doesn’t mean to snap. after all, he is high, and this topic could have him spiralling into a really bad trip — but it’s not your fault that you love him, that you want him so bad you’d deny all of your brother’s wishes. that’s on him — he made you that way, and these are simply the consequences of his own action. “fuck… baby. sweetheart, you know you shouldn’t even be with me,” he starts, tucking his blunt between two fingers while running the same hand through his moonlight-kissed hair. “i’m way older than you, i’m hardly ever serious about you when i should be like you want…and hell, your brother sure as fuck doesn’t want me near you. you deserve better, and that’s the truth.”

he hates saying all that shit to you, projecting his insecurities and inability to properly love someone onto the girl he loves…but gojo does it anyway, as if he can’t control the acid in his stomach — throwing it up everywhere or otherwise it’ll burn him from the inside out.

“but i don’t want better…i want you.” comes your quiet sob, so tiny and pathetic. satoru resents himself for making you that way — pale white lashes fluttering shut and locking away his murky ocean blue eyes. he tries to picture you happier, instead of crying over the call like you are right now.

“i want… i want you too.”

“then…then let’s tell him! together! he’s my brother… and you’re his best best friend. he might understand, if you prove to him that this is what you want. that i’m what you want.” you're perkier when you speak again, and satoru (still high as a kite) wonders if he’d said that just to appease you or if he really meant it.

a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts.

except gojo isn’t drunk.

he will admit, he’s pictured the day where you both come clean to the older geto sibling almost a million times. in his mind, satoru’s seen every reaction and emotion possible play out of his best friend’s face — he’s seen them in real life too. yet, the only prevalent expression on suguru geto’s face when anyone ever spoke of you in a nasty manner.. was red hot rage.

suguru would become another man, one who wasn’t afraid of murder, whenever it came down to you. countless individuals over the years had tried and failed at winning your favour from suguru — as if you were a princess in a castle. each one of them would regret trying for the rest of their lives.

and each time you remained none the wiser to how bad suguru really was and the lengths he’d go to keep you his innocent little sister.

gojo didn’t want that for himself, to face the wrath of his best friend.

but maybe he could try to withstand it, for you.

the girl he might actually love, after all.

“we can try…i’ll try for you.” he mutters quietly over the line after sometime. satoru sounds neither hopeful or hopeless, but either way it does the trick for you. you laugh for him, airily and bubbly, it makes the man smile around the blunt resting between his rows of perfect teeth. your happiness is enough to be his happiness.

he wished he allowed himself to feel that way about you more.

“and i for you, ‘toru. we’ll be together openly someday.” you gush.

the two of you chat for a little while longer until you adorably fall asleep on gojo and his blunt finally ends…but by the end of it, he can’t help but get this sinking feeling. where anxiety fills the cavity in satoru’s chest and drowns his optimistic heart in worry — slowing down its steady beat.

things won’t be as happy as he wants them to be.

and he doesn’t quite have the heart or guts to tell you that.

satoru gojo has always been afraid of love.

it’s not an emotion that comes easy to him — like the second nature of most human beings. there’s no innate need to love someone for satoru, there’s no urge to be tender or to hold someone in high regard because of the way he feels about them. love is not something that’s bound to his DNA or feeling he’s known since his very conception. or perhaps it was the environment in which he was raised, the way that his father was never home and his mother was always crying — her choked sobs only increasing in severity when she cast her gaze upon her only child.

that white hair and those blue eyes reminded her way too much of the man who couldn’t love her back.

perhaps that’s why he’s afraid to open up his heart, bordering up with layers of concrete and brick to protect it from the harsh reality of the world. the organ beats, it pumps blood around his body and keeps satoru alive — but it doesn’t carry an ounce of love. it’s as if he’s incapable. all he feels is resentment, towards his father and towards his mother — towards the people who did nothing but try to show him that he was worthy of warmth and intimacy.

he hates them because he doesn’t deserve it. satoru is nothing but a cold husk of a human being, a shell long since abandoned by its owner or inhabitant. there’s nothing to care for behind the walls of human flesh and tissue, no open heart to hold between one’s fingers with the promise of keeping it safe. satoru gojo doesn’t love because he’s afraid and it makes him feel like he can’t.

the people who love you always leave. to gojo, that’s a proven fact. his memories tied the emotion are never fond — his mother left him for a better life and better family with another man. his father left him for the company and late nights at work, a glass of brandy in his right hand. all satoru knew growing up was the cold, empty silence of his childhood home that should have been filled with happiness, laughter and warmth.

the people who love you are supposed to come back. for gojo, no one ever did. no one cradled him when he cried, no one held his hand through the scariest moments of his life. no one came back for him.

how could a man like that ever learn to love someone outside of himself?

how could a man like him make anyone happy?

satoru thinks that he would be a miserable addition to anyone’s life, a thick smog that hides the brightness from the world and blocks out any sunshine. no one around him deserves to be happy, it’s why he so selfishly and recklessly tears them apart in front of the media or acts rebellious to tarnish his family’s infamous reputation. his actions have no consequences, he hurts no one he loves because he loves no one.

no one except for…

“master satoru,” the matured voice of his personal driver interrupts the deep pool of thoughts gojo drowns in. “we may be slightly late for dinner with the getos. with your permission, perhaps i can make a detour? it’s not the safest route in town but it would get us there faster—“

no one except for you.

satoru sits up straight in the back seat of his expensive, sleek black car as if he’s been hit with the realisation that you exist. that you’re still here and still made to be loved. the man doesn’t believe in soulmates, or red strings of fate or happily ever after’s, yet — in the short two years that he’s been fooling around with you, satoru has somehow managed to fall deeply and irrevocably in love with you.

by all means, it doesn’t show — hell, you probably don’t even know how satoru really feels about you. he’s terrible at being genuine and hides behind a porcelain mask that only shows you the worst parts of him, that the entire world takes pleasure in seeing…but it’s true. he loves you. against all odds, the very feeling has managed to take root in the white haired rich boy’s chest, like the smallest flower blooming in the harshest of tundras. there’s something satoru didn’t know, that love has resistance, and no matter how hard he tries to act like he doesn’t — it will always find a way to thrive.

satoru might love you so much it makes him physically sick — one look at you and he’s rendered weak in the knees and short of breath. you’ve got a smile full of sunshine that warms satoru even with the bone chilling air outside. your eyes are enticing, deep pools of chocolate and hazel notes that drag him in like a fish on a line. your lashes are always soft against his skin, long enough to rival his even though you comment about how much you adore his every time you’re together.

you’ve got the man under a fucking spell and he’s not sure he ever wants it to be broken. at first, you were just something sweet to snack on, someone that gojo couldn’t have which only made him want you more. you’d be his pet — nothing more. he’d keep you at arms length until he was bored and could toss you away. however, over time, gojo’s want grew to love and even now, you’ve no clue how much you affect him, he regrets not showing that to you more.

he still treats you like you’re a child, a naive little thing because he’s terrified of opening up to you, frightened by the mere thought of you running for the high hills once you see what the man who loves you is really like.

satoru takes to adjusting his tie as the car switches lanes into a less polluted route — avoiding the evening traffic so that he can get to the destination faster. for some reason, anxiety spikes gojo’s blood stream with nervous hormones clinging to each red cell. the car becomes too enclosed, too compacted and the dark night outside doesn’t help him much either — it’s as if he’s lost in the void of space trapped with his own feelings.

his tongue darts out to wet the seal of his pink lips and his twitching fingers pull at the stupid necktie his PA had picked out for him tonight. there’s one thing that he’s forgetting, one thing that’s worse than loving you — a guilt that sneaks up on gojo when he’s truly alone with his riveting thoughts.

the man lets out a shuddering breath. “fuck. me.” he says quietly, the two words colourful on his tongue.

there’s suguru too.

and the betrayal he’ll feel when he finally realises that satoru gojo is fucking his little sister.

gojo loves getou. though it’s a different kind of love in comparison to what he wants to share with you. it’s brotherly. friendly. and it goes back years beyond the situationship the white haired man has trapped you in. it would absolutely kill your brother if he ever found out, ruining the supposedly unbreakable bond they’ve developed over the time that they’ve known each other.

a flash of pain flashes across gojo’s chest as if he’s been slashed with a knife — he grips the car handle tight, his knuckles turning white with how forceful his grip is. you and suguru are all that he has. the only family who ever truly cared for him and treated him like their own. of course his selfish actions and self-centred mindset would find a way to come between you both. he would be sure to kill the delicate sibling bond you have, satoru is an asshole like that.

it’s why he can never tell suguru about the fooling around you’ve done over the last two years — he would lose his one and only best friend. in the same breath, he could lose you too. you’re a smart girl, you’ll learn to leave him eventually and spread your own wings with pride.

the both of you were better off without him.

satoru was nothing but a chaotic storm that left nothing but wreck and destruction in its wake. it was an absolute guarantee that he would tear the two of you apart, create more than surface level crack in the crust of the world you two have created together. he’s just no good, nothing good ever comes of him.

but the love he has for you, building in slow stacks between the gaps in his rib cage, is addictive — much like that buzz from weed or the stale taste of a cigarette on his tongue. he’ll never have enough of you, and that very fact is what makes satoru gojo the most vile human he’s ever known.

he’d rather die than give you up. rather tear you apart from your brother than let you go.

the admission to himself makes the play boy’s stomach turn and twist wrongly, the air in his lungs turning bitter and clogging up his throat. gojo’s hand slams against the door of his car, fumbling to wind down the window and feel the cool bite of cold against his skin.

“p-pull over,” satoru whispers, more so to himself in the back of the vehicle than to anyone else. his nails dig into the rough skin on his palms, and the blood rushes through his ears — louder and louder. painfully so.

the driver looks to his master in the rear view mirror — concern sketched upon his features. “but master satoru, we’re just a few minutes away—“

“i said, fucking pull over!” gojo damn near screams in reply, throwing a piercing blue gaze at his poor driver. his head throbs heavily with guilt so by the time the car comes to a screeching halt, satoru’s close to throwing up on the sidewalk. “s-shit.”

the bile tastes like soured guilt in his mouth — but nothing comes. he’s sure he looks like a fool, half hanging out of his mercedes, pale as the silvering moon with the indication that he’s going to be sick.

“satoru,” his driver speaks to him tenderly, like a loving father would to his child. a comfort gojo never had the luxury of. “it’s not too late to go back home, i can have one of the maids ring suguru to let him know you won’t be in attendance. you don’t look your best.”

the white haired man’s ragged breaths as he stands hands on knees in the middle of the road accompany the late night ambience — rushing cars and sirens, heels clattering against concrete pavement and groups of people laughing away. the sounds ring loud in his ear, overloading gojo and his guilty conscience until there’s a warm hand on his shoulder.

his driver, reassuring him once again.

“it’s okay, satoru. just breathe.”

the statement somehow brings him back to present day, along with a heavy breath of frosty air. his driver rubs his back in smooth circles until satoru is able to stand to his full height — less queasy looking than he was before.

“i’d like to go,” he clears his throat, replacing his woozy expression with his signature bright eyed, sparkly-white toothy grin. “i made a promise, to the people i love.”

with a firm nod and gentle smile, satoru’s driver gives his employer one last firm pat on the back before returning to his position behind the wheel — ready to make the rest of the commute to the restaurant.

it takes a moment for satoru to slip back into the car — and during that time, he reflects. he may be selfish, he may be an asshole, he may be sick and twisted right down to the core. but at the centre of all that, is his compassionate love for you and he would do anything to prove it.

even if it means losing it all, just to be with you in the way you’ve always wanted.

satoru gojo is not as brave as he thought.

the rest of his car ride to the restaurant is uneventful — aside from the silver haired playboy’s random musings. the pep talk he gives to himself while tugging at the tight loop of his neck tie. everything will be okay.

it’s just dinner with you, and dinner with the getos. an event that he’s attended dozens of times over the years because suguru is his best friend and your parents love him.

except this isn’t just dinner.

this is make or break.

should he choose to make things official with you, it would shatter the very foundation of his relationship with suguru. the same if satoru chooses to ignore what you’re asking of him.

the nerves unload on satoru as he jogs up the smooth marbled steps at the forefront of the restaurant — hesitating when the concierge on duty holds open the mahogany framed and glass panelled door. he can’t bring himself to go inside and face the consequences of his own actions over the last two years.

just as he spins on his heels to run away, chelsea boots clicking against with every step — the sky starts to rumble and unleashes its heavenly tears upon the land below. rain.

gojo’s car has long since vacated the fancy premises — leaving him with no true escape home. he could just call a cab, call his driver, but duty and respect for his family away from family, for you, roots him to his spot outside of the restaurant.

he spends the next twenty minutes with a rolled up joint between his ever glossy, plush pink lips.

the weed does nothing to mollify gale force winds and torrential downpour set heavy over gojo’s mind. his entire body is tense with apprehension, spreading cold from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. the weather itself causes gojo’s fingers to go stiff as he inhales the addictive fumes, a burnt amber crowning the other end of his blunt.

“since when did you smoke, satoru?”

satoru coughs and the smoke goes down wrong, he looks up at his intruder with bleary eyes that soften once his gaze lands. “started two years ago,” he says to suguru as his smile turns wistful. “couldn’t find a real reason to quit.”

the reality of his words are masked by the sound of heavy rain hitting the ground, the tops of cars and the restaurant’s outer steps. it’s you, that satoru can’t seem to quit.

if he dares to stop, he’ll go mad with withdrawals and a nicotine patch won’t fix him.

“you really should stop getting addicted to the things that are bad for you.” suguru scolds his best friend, sidling up beside him.

like you, his sister?

satoru doesn’t deserve the aura of his warmth as they stand with one another. “yeah? no shit.”

the younger of the pair holds his hand out for the joint, which gojo passes easily. the city bustle fills up the silence between them — occupying every particle of air that buzzes with kinetic energy in that very same space. silences shared between gojo and geto were not uncommon, they were the type of friends who could communicate a million words to one another in a blink of an eye. but tonight’s soundlessness feels tense, thick with an uncomfortable awkwardness that neither of them know the source of.

be that as it may, satoru has always been able to mask his true feelings from the world and so he turns to his old friend slyly, giving him a casual punch to the shoulder while they smoke their worries away.

“what’s got you so wound up, suguru?” satoru asks, playing coy and covering up.

beady, blackened and tired eyes settle on his taller frame — trying to read the small print that codes each and every one of satoru gojo’s actions and behaviours. to the untrained eye (or anyone who hadn’t been practically raised by his side) gojo’s being his normal and cocky, maybe even obnoxious, self. though, to suguru — a man who’s been beside gojo through it all… there’s something missing.

a puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit.

suguru plays along, moving his chess piece along the board of the game satoru is playing. he’ll figure it out eventually.

letting out a puff of glacier grey fumes — the older geto sibling shrugs and taps the ashes onto the floor. narrowly missing gojo’s expensive patent boots.

“she’s grown up so fast,” he admits slowly, with a husky chuckle — probably from the smoke. “i’m scared she won’t need me anymore.” suguru’s voice is usually so full of endearment and pride when he speaks of you but this time, all dazzling and pure emotion seems to be lost on him.

the very notion scares satoru.

he swipes the splif back to relieve the queasy feeling stirring deep in his gut once again. “she can take care of herself.” gojo mutters, coolly.

“i know that.” suguru replies, smoothly and icily. “but if she doesn’t need me anymore, she won’t listen to me anymore. there’ll be no one to warn her of the people who’ll take advantage of that. her ability to care for herself. i set a high standard for her, i don’t want anyone to claim they can do a better job than me.”

your brother is protective above all things, he’d rather kill a man than let you get hurt. satoru finds the sentiment both admirable and terrifying all at once.

“you’ve done enough, man, how about you let her go?”

suguru turns snarky in response, teeth bared like a wild animal protecting its young. “maybe you’ll never understand the fickle connections of love…but adopted or not she is my little sister.” he asserts, glaring daggers into satoru’s skull as he smokes with a hand covering his mouth nonchalantly. hiding the quiver of his lip that shows how much he cares about this. about possibly screwing your life up. “i’d rip the heavens apart for her if she asked, i love her that much. i often wonder if any person would do the same for her.”

little does suguru know…satoru would do the absolute same for you and more. he would kill, he would die, he would destroy all for you. until he was bloody and raw. anything it took for you to keep on smiling up at him like that, he would do. and suguru would never know, because he’d end the world if he knew it was satoru that had defiled you.

satoru is such a coward.

neither of the men most important in your life speak after that, though, they continue sharing the joint until it’s nothing but burt orange ashes and fumes laying across their minds. the concierge does butt in at some point, kindly (and with a tight lipped smile) pointing out that the restaurant is three michelin stars and that smoking isn’t preferred.

satoru hates rules, so he spits on the steps and chucks the blunt to the floor — stomping it out.

suguru only chuckles at his best friend’s antics, smacking him upside the head as he jogs up to the grand entrance — gojo’s hands in his pockets, his once crisp tuxedo messy with burnt ash and rain water. gojo stops just shy at of the sleek, pearlescent moulded handles and throws his mop of silver hair back over his shoulder.

“are we doing this thing or what, suguru?”

they share a familiar, all knowing smile.

“yeah, satoru. let’s do this.”

without even knowing, that everything is about to change.

you’ve always been a little nervous, especially without a grounding presence beside you.

for many years… your brother, suguru, was that presence. he knew all the best ways to keep you calm — like that little tune he taught you to tap onto your desk during quiet exam hauls, or that method of breathing so your lungs were so full of air and you stopped holding it before public speaking. suguru always knew best.

but nowadays, you don’t find yourself seeking serenity in him. as if you were at a crossroads, your head always turns in the direction of someone you love with almost every corner of your heart. that someone being satoru. he may use you, he may fuck you and fling you to the side when he’s done but he grounds you. even when he isn’t trying to. in the subtle way that he toys with the beads braided into the ends of your hair while you sleep over at his place, or grabs at your waist in public spaces so that you don’t get lost or bullied by paparazzi. in the way that gojo makes you breakfast after bruising you and breaking your back beyond belief the night before — just to make it up to you.

satoru cares, even if it doesn’t look like it, he does.

and it almost makes you sick to your stomach — the thought of you craving his attention to that level.

your dainty fingers and blush-tone acrylic nails toy with the heavy pendant draped around your neck — the one that suguru gifted you. he had told you it shines under every light at every angle possible and you’re sure with the crystal chandeliers above, it’s blinding.

“stop that,” your mother scolds you warmly, in her own charming way of easing your nerves. “you’ll break that big expensive gift from your brother.” you cast a glance upwards from its fixation on the pearl white tablecloths and glinting silver table settings to focus on your parents. as per usual, your father is too engrossed in reading every detail of the menu to notice your discomfort and nerves, while your mother can’t seem to look away. reading you to filth, much like suguru does.

her efforts do nothing to help calm you down.

your hand shifts, taking to twirling the cutlery instead. she sighs, and you shrink in on yourself — trying to take up as little space as possible. “‘m sorry,” comes your hushed little bleat.

“never you mind.” she comments, giving you a once over before digging through her purse for a napkin — no doubt to dab at the corner of your mouth like a mother usually does. “i don’t know why you’re so skittish. your exams are over and you’ve graduated! tonight is about celebrating you! it’s just your brother, his friend, and us.”

that’s just it. it’s your brother and his friend. neither of them are aware of what might go down tonight.

you wished you hadn’t told satoru that you want his commitment — maybe then you wouldn’t be scared shitless in a tight dress at an upscale restaurant downtown. maybe then you wouldn’t be dreading satoru’s decision or suguru’s reaction to that decision.

you only wished you weren’t so selfish, to crave love from more than one person in two completely different ways.

the love from your brother should be enough, he’s only gone and done so much for you.

but it isn’t. and that makes you feel sick.

you want to be loved in the way that plays out in movies. where the guy chases the girl through an airport just to confess how much he needs her. or stands in the thunderous rain to tell her how sorry he is.

you want that from satoru. deep down, you know he wants it too.

the only thing that stands in your way is the affection that radiates so strongly off of your brother — like an umbrella protecting you from heaven’s downpours.

it’s been almost twenty minutes since your brother left his seat at your side to retrieve satoru from…well, wherever he is — like a stray cat picked up by a caring and kind-hearted stranger. you don’t know how’ll act when you see them together, side by side but you do know that ever second ticks by has you angstier and angstier.

the waiter has come by at least four times, asking if you’re ready to order, ready for drinks, ready to be served. “no,” you mumble politely on his fifth return — anxious to the point where your grip on your sterling silver fork has your knuckles turning white. “we’re waiting for two others, we’re waiting for—“

“there you two are! we were starting to think the wind had swept you up!” your mother coos as she always does whenever she sets her sights on her favourite two boys. she stands, immediately moving to wrap her arms around suguru’s taller, broad frame as if she hasn’t seen him in a millennia. “suguru! you had your poor family worried sick.”

your father doesn’t look up from the menu and you’re sure that you look a frazzled mess — but all your brother does is offer up his signature, delightful closed-eye smile, squeezing your mother back in reply. “sorry, ma. i got caught up with looking for this one.” he says warmly, jabbing a thumb into satoru’s side.

satoru hasn’t looked away from you since he’d arrived at the table. his gaze even follows you as you stand.

he can’t help it, you’re beautiful.

the dress that you wear hugs every dip and curve of your body, the satin material of your corset and tulle of your skirt in a shade of baby blue to rival his eyes contrasting perfectly against your deep skin. you’ve done your hair in the way that he likes, curled the ends of your braids with loose ones framing the roundness of your youthful face. if you were the last thing satoru gojo ever saw, surrounded by angelic light, he would be happy. he would be content.

for you, satoru looks like a god amongst mankind. even though his clothes are askew and lightly washed with rain, he’s still perfect to you. pearlescent droplets coat is luxurious white lashes as they flutter against his pale ivory cheeks. his air, all the same, is pushed back from his forehead — exposing those dreamy eyes to you. they hold so much love, interwoven between each greyish-navy fleck dotted against his pupils. love that is all saved up for you.

a bright and angelic grin breaks out across your hot chocolate fenty glossed lips — almost blinding to the regular man but the most beautiful thing to satoru. the waiter prompts you, asking if you’re ready to order once more, to which you respond without looking “yes, thank you.” in a breathy, wispy tone.

jumping between both yours and gojo’s line of sight, your mother pops the bubble that you’re both in. “satoru gojo! is that you?” she squeals with a fond tone. “why do you look so skinny? have you been eating properly?”

your lover squirms like a child being picked apart as your mother reaches up to pinch his cheeks.

“leave the boy alone, dear, i’m sure he’s been eating just fine.” comes your dad’s uninterested quip. “satoru my boy, how have you been?”

you sink back into your seat patiently while satoru greets your parents — the charm rolling off of him in radiating heat waves. “i’ve been eating ma, though i think you’d have a fit if you saw what i was eating,” he kisses your mother’s cheek softly while she laughs so hard you think she might pop, and sets a firm hand on your father’s shoulder. “i’m good old man, thanks for askin’! hope you’re cutting back on the liquor.”

“oh son, you know i don’t do any of that anymore!”

satoru scoffs kittenishly, gesturing between your dad and himself. “yeah, and i’ve stopped being the family disappointment!”

your parents love satoru. you can tell by the way they helplessly fall for his bravado and charisma. he’s magnetising — it’s hard not to fall for satoru in all of the ways possible to mankind. if he wasn’t so afraid of taking you seriously, you can’t help but think that he’d fit right into your family unit of four. it would be perfect, he would be perfect…as your boyfriend. your man. always by your side without hiding in and calling for you from the shadows.

if only you weren’t such a coward.

if only he weren’t so afraid.

if only…

suguru clears his throat in faux annoyance, pushing his best friend down by his wide-spanning into an unoccupied seat at the round table so that he’ll stop making a scene — despite how cheery it is. “behave yourself satoru! at least until i order the drinks.” your brother laughs, ruffling the moonlight locs on gojo’s head. he turns to you, face so bright and full of love. “any preferences, little sister?”

“moscato!” you nod without hesitation. you like things on the sweeter side.

“i knew you’d say that,” suguru affirms, taking his leave from the table. “i’ll see if the staff have anything special for you in the back.”

if only suguru wasn’t your older brother.

maybe then you wouldn’t feel such nauseating levels of guilt as gojo swaps chairs to be one closer to you. maybe then you wouldn’t have to keep your face plain and your body rigid as familiar, pale and slender fingers danced up the inner thigh of your dress — beneath the cupcake skirt, to settle comfortingly and dangerously on it’s apex. maybe then you wouldn’t have to try so hard to control yourself around satoru and especially in front of your parents — who have taken to digging through the fancy menu together while the buzz of the table dies down in suguru’s absence.

you’re so nervous that you fear someone might hear the loud thump of your heart against its cage and the blood rushing through your ears — you don’t even want to look at satoru because you know that with how close he is, you’ll fall apart the minute that you do.

but then he squeezes your thigh, in a tender and affectionate gesture — tracing a heart over the blistering hot patch of your beautiful brown skin just to calm you down. because satoru gojo knows you like no other man. better than anyone, better than your brother even.

“you look…” he starts, his usually husky voice barely above a whisper. the words coagulate in his throat — held back by tethers of spinelessness and debilitating fear. “you’re stunning, sweetheart.” gojo compliments you quietly, the sweet string of words nipping at your ears softly — his long, lavish lashes tickling at the crown of your head from how close he’s gotten by leaning down.

if you turn your head now, you might even kiss him and every fibre of your being prickles with anticipation — desperate to do so. “you’re not so bad yourself, satoru.”

his laugh fills your lower tummy with warmth. your heart rate picks up too.

“i mean it,” gojo reiterates. he’s desperate for you to look at him, for you to touch him. instead you bury your nose in an à la cart menu that you’re not even truly reading because the circumstances don’t allow for kissing, and holding and touching. not until satoru grows a pair and tells suguru the truth about your relationship and his feelings for you. “i’ve never seen anyone more beautiful.”

you can feel the heat from his breath coast across the surface of your cheek like a condensed mist over the warmed layer of seawater. it caresses you softly, sending shivers down your spine. “you look rather handsome too, satoru.” you joke, poking the hungry bear in its den by tilting your head ever so slightly in his direction.

he smiles like he always does right before he kisses you, slow and sexy, but the sweet moment is interrupted by the sound of heavy glass borderline slammed on the table — right into the crevice between yourself and gojo.

you dart apart, hearts racing and mind frazzled, only to find that suguru has returned with the wine he requested specifically for you. his face is hard set when you look up at him, his obsidian eyes darkened with suspicion and fear strikes you in the chest — he knows something, he suspects even more.

“sugu what are you—!”

your older brother lifts his chin with narrowed, cat like eyes. “i want to make a toast.” he announces, slicing through your words with a butcher's knife so sharp it makes both you and gojo squirm uncontrollably. like children being scolded for breaking the rules.

both of your parents put down their menus, excited, happy to be with the children they raised (including gojo) — they mistake your brother’s interruption for enthusiasm to celebrate your achievements.

“suguru, we’ve hardly ordered anything!”

“it’s never too late to start the festivities, ma.” he responds with a sly tone and slips into gojo’s previously empty seat to open the bottle of pink moscato. the cork popping makes you jump skittishly, and gojo’s hand slips away from your thigh underneath the table.

the loss of his touch reminds you that as long as your brother is around, you’ll never be anything more than a little secret to satoru.

liquid gold in the shade of dusted rose pink is passed around the table in crystal glasses — raised in honour of you. suguru says your name, the bulk of his voice full of pride.

“a toast to you, my little sister.”

you smile, tight lipped but warm — the guilt rushing back you.

but then gojo’s hand returns to the apex of your thigh, smoothing over the skin under your dress to calm you down once more.

“and everything that you have achieved. congrats on graduating, squirt.” satoru finishes suguru’s toast lovingly, approved by your parents who break out into a round of applause before flagging down a waiter to get the real celebrations underway. they tell you to order whatever you would like, but you take to downing the crisp, sweet flavours of your wine first.

you chug the beverage like it’s cheaply made beer from the college parties you’d been to — the ones satoru stopped you from going to, the ones that you avoided out of loyalty to him where you sought out the commitment he wasn’t ready to give you, a light buzz simmers over your brain, dulling down your high-alert senses and you hope that the alcohol makes you feel anything but present in the moment so that you miss the tense look that gojo and geto share beside you.

suguru is politely seething and satoru is playing pretend — acting as if there’s nothing wrong or nothing between you. your lover swirls his wine around in his glass, the pink tinted elixir sloshing over its edges before he takes a casual slip, ignoring your brother’s obvious dissatisfaction with satoru’s little addition to his toast.

“satoru.”

you gulp and fixate your gaze on other happenings deeper into the restaurant. your parents make their order. satoru squeezes your thigh once more.

“suguru.”

could this be it? the moment that gojo tells the truth and the moment that your eldest sibling accepts what you have with his best friend? you twitch in your seat as the confrontation brews and the thunder of their clashing personalities and morals begin to strike. all suguru has to do is ask if he suspects something, and all satoru has to do is confirm the truth. say that he loves you, that you’re his girlfriend while your brother accepts it and is happy for you.

you wish. that would be an ideal world.

“you’re in my seat, satoru,” is what geto settles on, the crescendo of their confrontation falling flat — missing a key note. “you’re sitting next to my sister. i was supposed to sit there.”

“really?” all satoru does is grin, and if you looked close enough, you could see the mischief dancing between the navy flecks in his stunning eyes.

the waiter comes to take yours, your brother’s and your lover’s orders (after tending to your parents for most of the interaction) — not giving suguru any time to protest his best friend’s faux confusion.

gojo takes to swirling his moscato once more — daring to look your brother in his eye over the rim of his crystal glass.

“i hadn’t even noticed.”

the rest of the actual dinner seems to go smoothly after that.

your boys tone down their bickering in favour for scaring down tiny Michelin star starters — micro herbs and all. they’re still so childish, even as they sit either side of you, picking from one another’s plates in the same way that they did back when you were kids. you find yourself relaxing as the night progresses too — maybe this isn’t so bad and things could work out between the three of you. suguru and satoru have been joined at the hip for as long as you can remember, a girl (one that they both knew), let alone suguru’s sister wouldn’t come between the bond that they had.

by the time the main dishes are served, you have enough alcohol in your system to feel nothing but a pleasant buzz in place of the nerves that once contaminated your bloodstream. you had nothing to be worried about, everyone was getting along, laughing and smiling while your parents indulged the three of you in drunken repeats of famed moments from your childhood.

you do your best to listen in, though the story about how suguru and satoru pulled out one of your wobbly teeth in third grade is one that you’ve heard too many times to count. it’s sweet though, that your parents are able to reminisce like this while you’re all together…especially since suguru works long hours so far from home and you’ll be off to a new city by the time the month ends.

even just having satoru there makes the night feel complete. there’s so much love to go around.

there would be even more love if suguru knew about how you and satoru truly felt for one another.

you’re only sucked back into the bustling conversation when geto pinches your side — jutting his head in the direction of your mother so that you can give your attention to her next story. “oh honey!” she coos and you cringe, chugging back your latest glass of wine in order to prepare yourself for whatever embarrassment is about to come next. “do you remember when your poor brother threw his white laundry in with those cute red undies you brought — suguru was wearing pink for months!”

the whole table bursts into obnoxious laughter, and you sink down into your seat.

“mom! oh my god!”

“i remember that,” your brother comments casually, gaze slinking over to his best friend in amusement. “satoru wouldn’t let me hear the end of it, told me i looked like a barbie doll. what were you even doing with underwear like that anyways.”

“sugu, not you too!”

“now i remember the pink shirts but… the underwear? i would have loved to see the culprit.” safely says with a voice as sultry as it is silky smooth — sending a jolt of electricity down your spine until it fizzles out at your tailbone. he gets scolded by your parents (more so by mom) and earns himself a harmless glare from geto who’s been loosened up by alcohol but from you — you’re furiously humiliated.

under the table, you lift a foot to stamp down hard on his own with your heel, but gojo is quick to react — instead dragging his foot up the length of your calf, inciting you to join him in an enticing game of footsie.

you slam your hands down on the table in surprise causing everyone to look your way before you sheepishly wave them off. “stop it, gojo.” you snarl through the cage of your gritted teeth.

he clicks his tongue, delighted by how flustered you are. “i’m not doing anything, pretty girl,” he purrs shallowly into your ear. “c’mon now, pay attention to the story.”

“it was a frilly little thing, far too inappropriate for someone her age.” your dad chimes in and gojo nods — lifting his foot higher and higher until you’re shuddering all over. you don’t even think to stop him.

“mom, dad. please stop before i end it all.” you struggle to place your words in the correct order, distracted by gojo’s touch. you place your hands under your thighs, keen on controlling your squirming as they squish together ever so slightly. you just know that satoru is enjoying this and if you looked at him you’d see satisfaction evident all over his stupidly handsome face. he likes knowing how much of an effect he has on you, that it’s easy to make you writhe all for him.

“sorry sweetheart, but they really were cute! i know you were just trying out new things. starting to act mature for your age.”

satoru chimes in again, leaning in a little closer so that his breath just tickles the shell of your ear. “bet they looked even cuter on her.”

squeaking in embarrassment, you kick your chair back until it screeches loudly across the floor in a weak attempt to put some distance between yourself and the man who’s practically torturing you. of course, your escape plan doesn’t work, because satoru keeps a strong grip on the bottom of your seat — dragging it forward, back under the table, and closer to him, that same hand now resting on the wooden frame beneath your locked knees.

coughing to cut up the tension growing between the two of you, suguru cuts in. “not as cute as her diaper phase!” from there, everyone is distracted by gushing over even more embarrassing childhood memories of you as a baby. obviously, leading to some tears from your parents’ end — you’ve grown so much, come so far. it’s only natural that they’d be emotional on a night like this, one meant to celebrate your achievements.

what isn’t natural, is the fact that you’re three seconds away from jumping satoru gojo’s bones right in front of them.

god, he drives you fucking insane. just from messing with you under expensive linen tablecloths too — his thumbs brush over your knees, your feet tangled together and if he leans over you anymore you might just turn your head and kiss him.

you fight that urge to do so by grasping at the cool silver pendant around your neck — tapping your acrylic jelly nails against the fat sapphire gem at its centre. the jewellery feels like ice against the temperate surface of your skin, a dirty need starting to bubble and brew beneath it hotly. one that can only be satisfied by satoru gojo.

the heat spreads to the back of your neck and under the collar of your dress, even warming the chain that hangs loosely around it. it could just be the alcohol, but you know it’s something more. it’s an itch you can’t scratch on your own and a fire you can’t put out without help. suddenly the metal of your pendent is warm to the touch and slippery between your fingers whilst you continue to play with it in newfound sweaty hands.

a subtle gasp slips past your chocolate glossed lips when the chain snaps somewhere and the rest of the metal slides between your buttery fingers, your pendant gathers at your bosom before dropping to the floor with a clatter. feeling around your neck for your precious gift, you let out a louder whine upon realising where it’s gone. suguru spares you a moment of his attention, concern drawn against the gentle slopes of his features.

“you okay, little one?”

“y-yeah,” you exhale slowly, trying to calm the anxiety that fires across your neurons. “i think i um… i dropped my necklace under the table.”

an award winning beam slots itself perfectly on your brother’s lips as he chuckles under his breath. “you’re so clumsy, need my help?”

“just keep mom and dad distracted for me? it’s just under the table, i’ll be back for their next story before anyone notices.” you attempt to joke in order to appease him, you don’t need suguru to get a closer look at how wildly turned on you are nor the fact that gojo is sitting comfortably with his hand between your knees — inches away from where you need him most, where he’s been so many times behind your brother’s back.

not to mention the fact that you’re still fucking playing footsie.

suguru shrugs and drops the subject, tuning back into your father’s rendition of your first skatepark experience. the one where you’d tried to copy satoru and suguru and attempted a trick on your chunky bratz scooter and went flying off the ramp. ouch.

you dip beneath the table cloth like you’re diving back under the surface of water, fishing around for your lost and precious pirate’s treasure. you can’t tell if satoru’s moved his hand, you don’t feel it slyly ghosting over the insides of your thighs while you lean forward and search for your necklace… not that it should matter, it’d be far from appropriate to have his long, slender fingers brushing up against your panties from under your skirts. it wouldn’t be right for that to escalate, for said fingers to push past your entrance and brush up against the spot satoru knows is guaranteed to make you scream. it would be immoral for you to even think about him sliding his cock into your wet, needy cunt too. somewhere secret, somewhere—

oh!

you giggle with triumph when your fingertips graze the cold metal decor of your necklace… however, when you move to grab it, you touch something else. something warmer. you touch him.

with baited breath, you let your bambi eyes carefully trail up to gojo’s face — drinking in the hazy look that he gives you, the swirl of desire taking a flame in his brilliant, cerulean eyes. just by being under his gaze you feel as though you’re drowning and burning alive all at once. satoru is the one who moves first, taking your smaller hand in his large one before he turns it over — palm facing the sky and places your sapphire pendant inside of it.

then, one by one, he closes your fingers around your brother’s gift and then brings your closed fist up to his plush lips, pressing a wet kiss to your knuckles as you gasp. “quiet, baby. wouldn’t want anyone to know what you’re up to down here…”

his words die off, licking his lips slowly, stare predatory while it trails all over your body. “but ‘toru,” you mewl enticingly, keeping your tones hushed under the table. the sweet, dulcet sound makes his eyes flutter shut and body quiver with a wave of hunger, his sexual appetite for you growing by a tenth fold . “i need you.” you never make this easy for him. if someone were to take a peek beneath the table cloth, they would see the tension brewing between you both and put two and two together.

you’d be discovered before having the chance to tell everyone yourself.

time is ticking, your guests might start to grow suspicious if you don’t make a move and goad satoru into solving the ache between your thighs. so you jump the gun, grabbing his collar and tug him forward for a sly, sloppy yet quick kiss. “i won’t say it again after this, ‘toru,” comes your cheeky pant. “i need you.”

satoru chokes.

with that, you withdraw from your scared little bubble below the table and stand straight up — a dazzling and guiltless gin on display for your entire family to see. “i’m going to the bathroom,” you explain sweetly. “need to fix my pendant ‘n powder my nose. i’ll be back.”

your family stops chattering briefly to acknowledge your wish, but as you leave — suguru stands too and grabs your wrist. “need me to help? i know the clasp can be finicky. i should have gotten you something easier to use—“

god bless suguru, your loveable brother, ever the cockblock.

“that’s alright man, i’ve got her covered,” satoru suddenly appears behind you, the sweltering heat of his heaving chest singeing through the fabric of your dress. he places a hand on the small of your back, grinning with a charming spark to his eyes — deliberately masking “you should keep an eye on your parents, you know how they get when they’ve had too much to drink.”

now, it’s not that geto doesn’t trust his best friend… after all, gojo has been a constant presence in your life ever since the three of you were kids. it’s just that sometimes, a feeling of unease stirs within suguru at the mere thought of you being alone together — it’s like one of those gut feelings you get before something goes terribly wrong.

yet, as usual, satoru is right. if no one keeps an eye on geto’s parents, who knows what trouble they’ll get into on their own.

“alright, fine. just don’t take too long, there’s only so many stories they can tell before dessert.” suguru reminds you plainly, as if not to assume the worst. he gives you both an approving nod, before letting you go. “and satoru, wait outside for her?”

the white haired man snickers, a languid and jeering smirk slowly tugging on the corners of his mouth. “you got it, suguru!”

he even adds a salute for effect, allowing you to lead him away from the table and towards your gateway of sin.

the uneasy feeling in suguru’s stomach intensifies as he watches you both walk further and further away.

they say that a mirror is the window to your soul, reflecting how you truly feel on the inside.

the girl staring back at you in the squeaky clean glass looks nothing like the little girl suguru helped to raise. her soul is impure, blackened by sin and the dark desire for human contact — the salacious dance and ritual between scorching hot bodies and saliva tainted tongues. she laughs at you over rushing tap water from the bathroom sink and calls to you like a siren’s song, inviting you to give into her — let her take the lead on the temptations plaguing your mind.

why did you even suggest this?

you’d been bold, hinted to satoru that you wanted him to devour you, ruin you in the bathroom of the restaurant your loving, kind older brother had picked especially to celebrate you. you knew better than this, you wanted better than this. you no longer wanted to be just a quick fuck to satoru gojo.

you wanted to be his girlfriend.

that’s what you’d asked him to do tonight. to make you his in front of everyone who loved you. but here you were, slutting yourself out for him like you always do.

over the water pouring down the drain, you pick up on the sound of knocking at the bathroom door — prompting you to twist the tap and cut off the flow of water. unlike the flow of lustful hormones that shoot through your bloodstream and straight to your clit.

a new kind of excitement blossoms in your chest once you turn around to unlock the door — suguru would hate to see you so thrilled at the concept of doing something so wrong. you return to your position in front of the bathroom sink before your lover enters, toying with the silver chain on your pendant again — ignoring the burning feeling you get as it weighs down your palm.

the burn of underlying guilt.

“i can help with that.”

satoru purrs seductively as he enters the bathroom, gesturing to your pendant. you don’t turn to look at him but keep your eyes trained in his movements in the mirror. even when he isn’t touching you, you feel like you can’t breathe. his presence overshadows your own, shrinking you down into a tiny toy that sings oh so pretty for him whenever he wants.

you hear the lock click shut behind you. anticipation hums through the air like an electric current.

“the clasp is a little tricky,” comes your dreamy sigh, high pitched and needy — earning you a choked groan from your lover. “i can’t do it on my own, not without help.”

the next time gojo speaks, he’s right behind you — chest pressed to your back, arms either side of your hips and large hands on the bathroom counter, his head practically nestled into the junction between your shoulder and your neck. wisps of snowfall like hair tickle at your bare skin while warm breath causes goosebumps to rise across its surface.

“then let me fix it for you,” satoru suggests enticingly — keeping up this little act, pretending to be raunchy strangers, while your fingers brush against one another and he takes the jewellery from you. you straighten your back, hold your breath and nod cautiously as he brings it up to your neck from behind. your eyes catch each other’s in the mirror, his darkened with devoir all while he offers you a enthralling, toothy smirk. “relax, pretty girl. i don’t bite…”

except he does. if satoru is a hunter, a lion, then you are nothing but a sacrificial lamb that serves to be his prey. if he really wanted you, he could take your dainty neck between his vicious jaws and snap it — you wouldn’t even mind…because you’d let satoru do anything to you so long as it meant having all his focus be on you.

“lift your chin for me.” he commands you huskily, nipping at the shell of your ear. “good girl.” satoru continues to drawl, extending the ‘o’ sound in his words when you follow his instructions obediently — tilting your head back so that he can adjust your necklace to sit perfectly in place. “such a good girl f’me.”

when his fingers fix the clasp and touch teasingly at the nape of your neck — you find yourself instinctively pushing back against gojo’s lap, the curve of your fleshy ass sweeping over the slight tent beginning to form in his expensive designer slacks. slacks that you know you’re going to destroy before the night meets its end.

“t-there we go,” gojo doesn’t dare step back after finishing up with your necklace, enjoying the sight of you slightly bent over the counter as you grind your hips back on him painfully slow — testing the waters. “fuck lil’ lady…what’s this all about, hm? tryna thank me for doin’ such a good job, helpin’ you out?” his hands slip over your own as they rest by the sink, lacing your fingers together while satoru puts some weight on you — looming over you as he starts to rut forward and meet you in the middle of this raunchy bump and grind. “s-shit…keep…keep throwin’ it back on me like that.”

“we don’t…we don’t have long, satoru. hah, fuck!” you sigh breathlessly, rocking back and forth on your man eagerly and clenching around nothing when his erection catches on your budding clit. satoru’s lips ascend on your neck with careful thought, using their plumpness to shift the strap of your dress to the side and reveal more of you to his greedy, deep blue eyes. they’re wet on your skin, perhaps he’s been licking them in anticipation, hot at the very tip of your cervical spine — but he can’t leave marks, not unless he wants your brother to see.

satoru trembles behind you, lazily dragging his tongue to the sweet spot just behind your ear — leaving a shimmering trail of possession across your skin. “i know baby, i know,” he says almost instantly, delayed by tasting you on his tongue. suddenly, you feel a wetness against your cunt that isn’t your own — you’re already so wet that the seat of your panties are practically glued to your fonts, but this… this is satoru. his dick dribbles pathetically with precum, gearing up to fuck. to breed. satoru grows angstier by the second, one hand letting go of yours to manhandle you back onto his stiff hard on, his breath much heavier against you than before. “but it feels so good doesn’t it? just wanna keep…my cock…nestled against you like this.”

pride flutters through all four chambers of your heart simply because you know that you’re the only one who can get satoru gojo to act like such a slut. he’s so desperate for your pussy it doesn’t even matter how he takes it, just as long as it’s his.

only you get to reduce gojo to a needy mess, soft pink fanning across his nose and cheeks as he humps you from behind like a wet, mangy dog in rut. he circles his hips, pushing them forward so that his throbbing length meets your sticky, fat panty clad folds in a constant motion — his needy moans like music to your ears.

“i wanna fuck you,” you huff impatiently, using your strength to push gojo away from you just long enough to turn around. he follows your lead, hiking you up to sit on the bathroom counter before you wrap your legs around his tiny waist and squeeze him close. “gonna fuck me, ‘toru? or do i have to — fuck…do it myself.”

now that you’re facing each other, you can see just how wrecked the man is. his eyelids grow heavy, long and lavish white lashes weighed down by mirth. gojo pants, his tongue doused with spit lolled over his bottom lip with a hankering urge to kiss you. “jeez,” he simpers in awe, impressed with how controlling you’re being this time around — squeezing your hips to control the flow of you grinding back and forth on him. “at least kiss a guy first.”

grinning, your fingers surge upwards from the counter and into the depths of white rooted hair. you tug gojo down to meet you halfway and before he can even register it — your lips are roughly slotted together, bruisingly close and your tongue laps tracks into the hot cavern of his mouth. the kiss quickly turns sloppy, needy, spit is easily exchanged between synchronised moving lips while your noses become neighbours and your lungs burn from how desperately they need oxygen.

you don’t want it, you think. you don’t need it, you say to yourself — hardly pulling away from gojo as you both suck in a much needed breath. you’re back on one another in a heartbeat, drowning in one another while his practised hands traverse up the curves and dips of your body. they settle at your throat, a thumb gently pushing against its centre just to test you. a dark chuckle reverberates in satoru’s chest when you whine, back arching up to meet him and your eyes growing misty.

“how’s that for a kiss?” you whine against his wet mouth, yanking at gojo’s roots again. the action earns you a grunt in response — blissful, low and predatory. his hips jump up too, tucking his swelling cock into the snug pocket of your puffy folds.

“think i want another,” he muses out loud, the chocolaty octaves of satoru’s voice making you shudder — liquid gold beginning to gather between your ravaged pussy lips. using his grip on your throat, the silver haired man pulls you closer — his perfect white teeth sinking into the delicious swell of your bottom lip before he tugs it away from you salaciously. it’s barely enough to quell the spark of hunger spreading throughout all four limbs of his body, hardly calming down the blood that rushes to his achingly hard dick as he rubs it against your increasingly soaked mound.

when your lips find each other again, they’re swollen, cherry red and raw — smacking against one another loudly over the sound of rustling clothes while you buck into one another. everything is so hot and heavy, you’re so wet and so sticky for satoru and your little rendezvous has barely begun. the way he sucks on your tongue, let’s you push it down his throat while his clothed seedy tip nudges your clit over and over again has you bouncing off the walls in your mind. you can’t think without thinking of all the ways to fuck satoru gojo.

he’s on your mind all the time and you’re not sure if you want that to change.

“can…oh man—can feel how wet you are through your fuckin’ clothes…” satoru hums in astonishment, releasing you from the prison of his lip lock with pretty pink swollen lips, allowing his head to drop to your shoulder in favour for sucking on it to pacify himself. he keeps his tip on your pleasure bud, revelling in the way you keenly pulse at the sensation. “oh fuck…so sticky.”

your pussy flutters at his observation, even more so with how cute satoru sounds when he’s so needy for you. “satoru…” you mewl, stroking back tufts of his sweaty pale hair — though it hardly distracts him from feverishly fucking you over layers of fabric. “wanna suck you off, gojo. can i? wanna have you in my mouth.”

satoru pauses, his breathing uneven and pulls away from his safe spot in your neck. “fuck…really? now?”

you nod, tiny hands forcing their way between your heated bodies to toy with his belt, unbuckling it with practised ease. “right now.”

“okay…fuck, okay.” satoru steps back and uses a grip on your hips to help you down onto your feet, watching with pride as you slowly descend to your knees in front of him. “oh baby. you’re so dirty. such a dirty little girl, mmm?” he grins, a little twisted. “show me how pretty you look on your knees for me.”

you sit back on your haunches as satoru adjusts himself to lean back on the counter — looking up at him with sweet shiny eyes which occasionally shoot down to his throbbing hard cock as he manspreads in place. the sight makes your mouth water and

“you’re staring, baby. go ahead and open your present.” he tilts his head with an air of condescension about him — teasing and taunting you through a faux pout, making you simper out for satoru. “come on now, what happened to my brave little girl? you wanted to suck me off so bad, where’s all that big talk now, huh?” satoru continues to leer down at you, his eyes darkening malignantly — the sapphire shine within them dimming with a raging storm cloud as if to block out the sun. “open that cute little mouth, lemme see it. don’t disappoint.” he cups your cheek, entire body bristling with joy and underlying pleasure when you keen into satoru’s touch like a good girl.

obediently, your lips part and mouth falls open — revealing ropes of saliva that tie your tongue to the roof of your mouth. it does something to satoru, it’s like a power trip to have you on your knees for him. you’ve got love in your eyes taking the form of heart-shaped pupils, as you admire him like he’s your god. and you want that god’s cock stuffed into your waiting, drooling mouth.

you shouldn’t adore satoru, treat him as if he’s your lifeline. he’s the whole reason your family might fall apart, he keeps you hidden as if you’re a treasure only he is worthy of seeing. he doesn’t show you off, he chooses to use you for his own gain, he chooses you when there’s no one else left to turn to. your relationship with satoru has never been stable, but even now when he’s hanging above you — rosy cheeked and starry eyed about to fuck you in some bathroom, you still want him. you still love him.

“don’t get lost in that pretty little head of yours baby,” gojo leans forward and brushes his thumb under the well of your wet lips and over your Cupid’s bow — smudging what's left of your gloss. “‘m gonna need you to think for a little while. only ‘bout me ‘n my cock. yeah?” his free hand that once had been abandoned on the countertop takes yours — guiding it over the bulge in his crisp dress pants, hissing when you start to rub at it on your own, your mouth still wide open for him. “you’re so pretty. feel that? you make me so hard that it hurts.”

you find yourself dazed and enchanted — panting, chest heaving as your hunger for him grows. “feel it, want you, ‘toru.” satoru thinks you’re so cute, cupcake dress poofing up against the cold floor as your tiny hand paws at him back and forth, back and forth and the little smile you give him when he pulsates beneath your talented little fingertips would be nearly enough to make him explode.

“of course you do, baby. you want your reward.” gojo relents, giving in to you. he swoops down to give you one last kiss, barely ghosting his lips over your swollen ones to keep you on the edge — craving just a little bit more. he dangles the static pleasure of a kiss that you get over your brain in front of you like a carrot in front of a horse. he knows that if he keeps you that way, you’ll stay desperately in love with him, malleable into the perfect girl for him.

it’s selfish and both of you know that.

you rub harder and harder at the outline of satoru’s shaft and scoot closer to rest your chubby cheek on his firm thigh. he sees the way your own squeeze together from under your dress, probably in an attempt to keep your arousal at bay while your hole slicks itself up — but he can smell you, sweet and potent like a flower in bloom. if he were to pull you up to his height and take you now, satoru is sure your panties would be soiled, ass cheeks and pussy lips coated in a layer of your opaque, honey-like arousal while it oozes directly from you.

that’s just how you are, a candied little mess for satoru gojo. it’s almost a fact and the very notion should be humiliating for you, should be shameful to you. if your brother were to ever find out how weak your resolve is when it comes to satoru, how you fall to your knees so easily for him — then you might never be able to look him in the eye again.

but isn’t that what you want?

to have suguru know just how badly you’d fallen for his best friend?

how you might fail to live without him?

all night all you’ve been thinking about is satoru telling your brother the truth — but here you are, locked in a bathroom ready to worship this man while you hide from your entire family. from reality.

because you’re happiest in this bubble with gojo and you’re sure he is too — he can have you in all the ways he’s ever wanted and you’d let him do it all to you too. yet again, you remain entirely unaware that from gojo’s point of view, you’re more than a pretty girl about to suck his pretty cock. you’re everything to him.

“come on baby, stop playin’ with me. baby please.” satoru whines petulantly into the sex tainted air that fizzles with suspense. his skin buzzes with every touch you give and a wicked chuckle resonates deep within his chest when you scoot closer on your knees — dragging the tip of your tongue over his dick print hesitantly. though the sound is cut short when you give his hard-on a tentative squeeze to text the waters, opaque and runny white smearing against the inside of satoru’s underwear.

you adore how much he trembles, gripping your shoulder to steady himself since knows that you don’t like the idea of your head being pushed down on. even if it’s torture for him to be so patient — he’d never do anything you didn’t like.

but it really is killing him, and you’re fully aware. he deserves to be punished like this, after everything he’s put you through — it doesn’t mean you’re not suffering yourself. circling your hips into the cold bathroom floor to get some friction yourself, beyond turned on at the sight of a breathless satoru gojo above you.

“say that again.” you moan.

gojo’s head drops and he lets out a shaky breath as if he’s about to cry. “w-what?”

“beg me again, then i’ll suck your cock.” you sneer up at your silver haired lover evilly just as your mouth meets his sticky clothed cockhead, the spit and heat from your mouth seeping through the layers of fabric in your way. “i wanna hear you moan for me, ‘toru. like you love me.” you press, switching to taking the man’s zipper between the rows of your teeth.

satoru gojo has never been a stickler for the rules, whatever he does is usually for his own personal gain…but when you command him like that, he can’t help but to blindly stumble after you, hanging onto your every sugar-coated word. “fucking hell, please baby. need to feel your mouth on me…fuck, your tongue,” gojo rambles on weakly. “please, please, want it so bad i might fucking die.” he does some of the work for you, shedding his belt and causing it’s buckle to clink satisfyingly against your ears.

satoru’s eagerness sends a shockwave of pleasure straight to your clit. your patience seems to be wearing thinner than his, for you jump forward like a cat on the prowl and peel back the remaining layers of satoru’s clothes without mercy for any of the fabrics. his gasps and muttered pleas coax you into the dark, addictive enigma that is satoru gojo — clouding your mind whilst setting your body on fire with hell flames.

you kiss at satoru’s slender hips the more his pants and boxers come down, twirling your tongue into the tufts of silver hair that form his happy trail too. a soft, honeysuckle chuckle from you resounds in the bathroom’s echoing chamber when you finally reveal enough of gojo’s cock for it to spring free — twitching as it’s exposed to fresh air. satoru is longer where he might lack thickness, though he’s chubby enough to keep you plugged full of his cum usually. his balls are plump and pink, heavy with a load that’s just waiting to be spent on you — evidence of his arousal taking the form of opaque pearls set at the tip of his dick.

speaking of, gojo’s cockhead burns bright red and shines as if it’s glossed and sticky like your lips — blue pulsating veins spiral around his flushed shaft, rivalling the shade of his eyes as he observes your next moves. you’re sure to make your touch tender as you take his entire length between your fingers, smoothing the supple pad of your thumb over his sensitive tip and rubbing the precum into it sweetly.

he smells so good, the musky scent of satoru’s cock and his arousal act like the fumes of a drug you know all too well — it takes over your consciousness and stream of thought, controlling your actions from then on. you feel everything all at once, your tongue writhing in place at the bottom of your mouth, satoru’s thighs trembling lightly and his cock throbbing while blood rushes through it. a haughty moan scratches at the ridges in his throat when you finally grip him properly — soft little hands dwarfed by his sheer length, palm brushing over the flushed forked veins that separate at the base. “j-jesus, beautiful,” satoru hisses, lips between his sharp white teeth. “you gotta give a little…drivin’ me insane with these little touches. please just suck it…please i’m beggin’ you—“

the air in his lungs grows thin like that at the peak of a mountain when you finally give in, dragging your lips over the cream gathering at his mushroomed cockhead before kitten-licking through its seedy slit in order to tease him a little more. opening up your mouth, you prepare to swallow satoru down, just as you have done many times before. you know everything he likes, what makes him tick, what has him cumming in seconds…however, just as your warm breath coasts along his shaft — he pulls back from your hold.

“wait,” he says through a shudder. “you wanna smoke?” satoru pulls a joint from his crumpled pocket, licking his lips as he searches for its partner in crime — a lighter.

you frown, choosing to palm him instead of taking him into your mouth just yet. his cock jumps at the simple movement, leaking milky white against your knuckles, tainting your skin. “we’ll get into trouble, ‘toru.” you state like it’s obvious, speaking over the slick sound of your hand gently pumping satoru. your movements are aided by just how wet his cock is, fingers slipping and sliding up and down his girth whilst being guided by the thick globs of precum beading at his tip.

“s-since when did you care about the rules? you’re fucking me here, aren’t you?” his breathing falters as he shakily attempts to set the end of his joint alight. you don’t dare stop pleasuring your brother's best friend, even if there’s a nagging voice at the back of your head telling you that this is bad, that it’s all too much. “help me out for a sec, beautiful? hold this in your mouth while i light it.” satoru’s voice drops an octave as he shoves the splif between your arousal glossed lips (replacing the fenty that once spread their shine across them) — he stares you down through his long, white lashes as he flicks the lighter at the end, setting fire to the rizzler. “thank you, little one.”

the pet name makes your skin crawl and the weed in your mouth only amplifies that voice in your head. you should quit while you still can, you might be able to cope with the withdrawals then, and spend the rest of your life making it up to suguru for leading him astray. little one. the nickname he’d so fondly called you quickly becomes something you hate. it’s meaning changed easily by none other than satoru gojo.

his power over you is still so strong despite his cock being at the mercy of your feather light grip and plush lips. once you set a steady rhythm to jerking gojo off and the joint burns dangerously close to your nose, he takes it from you and lovingly pats your cheek — placing it between his own lips before blowing a ring of smoke into the humid air.

satoru’s head collapses back against the mirror, his moonshine hair perfectly tousled despite being out of place. his locks stick to the icy surface of the glass, brought on by the cold sweat from your temperate mouth. the pair of you share a harmonious tune of wet whimpers and gargled gripes when you take your lover down your throat, sinking down on him until your nose nudges the prickliness of his happy trail.

you flex your tongue, letting it swirl around satoru’s girth from the base to the tip. “o-oh fuck, baby!” he exclaims through a hybrid sound, a cross mix between a raspy chuckle and high pitched moan. shakily; satoru takes a puff of his joint as if to calm himself down. he looks down at you with a lustful, love laden gaze, dropping a hand to the top of your head — careful not to push on it as you work your mouth down on him. “don’t worry… ‘m not gonna fuck your mouth. know you don’t like that, just wanna…touch you.” it nearly kills him as well, the way you look up, with shiny eyes and full cheeks. “god, you take it so well, huh?”

of course, satoru had been the one to teach you how to suck dick back when you first started messing around two years ago. he’d coaxed you through it, teaching you step by step so you could get him off just how he liked. he made it so that you wouldn’t ever want to please a man the same way you pleased him — rewiring all the nerves in your brain to make sure it was only gojo that you wanted to deep throat.

so you nod diligently in reply, swallowing down on gojo and letting out a gentle hum that causes dopamine to crackle along the insides of his skull. hollowing your cheeks, your throat contracts around his thick length until you feel his bulbous tip dragging over your uvula — testing your own talented mouth. he’s so glad that he taught you how to do that, you down on your knees, entrapping him in the searing heat of your hellfire mouth. if suguru could see you now, he’d only be able to picture the spawn of the devil and it’s cruel how you don’t even care. after everything he’s done for you.

your eyes flutter shut at the heaviness of satoru’s dick on your tongue, forcing you to taste the viscous precum that oozes down your throat in slow waves. the flavour is just as addictive as the scent of weed tangling with sex in the air — you don’t see yourself going to rehab either.

eventually, you decide to pull off of satoru with a lewd pop, filling your lungs with the oxygen they so dearly missed. you find yourself light headed for deep-throating him for that long but you also find it to be completely worth it — especially because of the look of pride satoru gives you. “such a pretty little cockslut,” he sucks his teeth, petting your head and brushing his hand over the square partings of your braids. “you look so happy sucking on my cock, baby. didn’t think you were gonna come up for air.”

in place of your mouth, your palm starts to stroke satoru at a steady pace — slickening up the centre of your hand. he’s so big between your hands you can only imagine how he’ll feel stretching you out later tonight, causing drool to pool in your mouth like a hot flash flood as you catch your breath. vivid azure eyes flutter at the salacious mix of pain and pleasure when you give satoru’s shaft a teasing squeeze, using your other hand to give the same treatment to his plump, sore balls.

somehow, he manages to continue on muttering taunting you. “cause i’m the only thing you need, right? who needs air to breathe when you have me feeding my cock into that hot, wet open mouth.” he drags a thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down as he looms over you — breathing a cloud of cannabis smoke into you. shot-gunning you while you continue to jerk him off, it tastes of him and the alcohol in his breath and the weed on his tongue. he looks so good above you like this, hooded eyes and rose tinted cheeks. satoru is the perfect picture of god’s work and you’d be foolish to pretend that the sight of him didn’t make your cunt throb and a familiar feeling begin to stem in the pit of your stomach. “good fucking girl.”

he thrusts shallowly through your closed fist matching his rhythm to the tune in which you flick your wrist. you waste no time in working up a pace fast enough to have your lover melting like putty in your hands — literally. you miss his cock in your mouth, how heavy it makes your tongue feel and paw at his spit slicked erection like a puppy begging for treats.

“when you t-touch me like that…” satoru drawls, notes of praise layered over his whiny voice makes your own juices gather at the crotch of your panties, makes your head spin but that might just be the weed. “i could fucking cum, baby.”

sweat beads in large, fat droplets at gojo’s hairline, darkening the bright colour of his hair. the liquid soaks through his white shirt too, showcasing how fucked out he truly is. he thrusts again, and again, and again, chasing the high your hand gives his creamy aching cock. “then let me make you cum,” you giggle, dropping your head slightly to make out with the sloppy tip of satoru’s dick, lapping happily at whatever he gives you. “let me taste you.”

a dirty laugh rings in the buzzing air and gojo throws the burly arm that holds his joint over his wet face, wiping it clean of all the sweat. in the next moment, he cups the youthful roundness to your pretty face — calloused fingertips digging into your baby fat cheeks and sun-kissed skin. “that’s cute, but i’m not quite done with you yet, gorgeous.” still hunched over you, gojo finds the milky trail his cock has left over the seam of your lips and kisses you — dangerously slow. he simpers at the taste of himself on your lips, tangling with the plastic-like taste from the remainders of your gloss. he licks the sweat from your Cupid’s bow as well.

he sucks the precum from your tongue and licks harsh stripes into your mouth — reaching further back to cup the back of your head, keeping you pressed against him. the both of you moan like idiots into one another’s mouths, drinking down the song of blissful laments and greedy gripes. the kiss seems to last forever, going on and on until you wince at the slight burn of satoru’s joint against your cheek, but you never stop jerking him off — slick and dewy sounds of skin meeting skin providing the adlibs to your nasty, sex song.

only then does satoru let you go, though, his hips continue to dart forward and ram into your closed fist — they contradict with his words. while gojo wants so much more, they chase his innate desire to cum. paint your pretty face or your talented tongue. their rhythm is assaulting and aberrant.

“but you’re so close…” you tempt him with your silky voice, dipping your head and bobbing it once more to encompass his lengthy girth into your heated mouth again. dopamine sparks like explosions across the synapses in his brain when he witnesses your cheek bulge from the force of taking his tip in, his slit rubbing deliciously against the soft epithelium there. gojo doesn’t know how he’ll survive after tonight, when you force him to confess to your family and everything blows up in his face.

oh how he’ll miss your cute little mouth sucking down his cock like your life depends on it.

“you’re right, shit…you’re right, princess,” satoru pants avidly, taking another drag of the joint nestled between his shaky fingers — he throws his head back as the grey smoke hits the fresh hair, tainting it with the scents and flavours from the kiss he’d given to your sinful mouth. “i think i might…ohhhh ohhh. i really wanna—“ he throws his head back and you can tell that your lover is really trying to stave off his orgasm to make this last forever.

you still in surprise when he jams a boot between your soaked thighs from underneath your dress. “‘toru!” comes your little gasp, grinding down on the cold leather if his shoe instinctively. he used the toe of his chelsea boot to pull back the hood of your clit, pressing down on the swollen bud to stimulate you. w-what are you doing?”

“g-gotta make you cum before i do,” he offers as a weak explanation all while spreading your puffy pussy lips apart.

you lavishly run your tongue through the opening of satoru’s cockhead, moaning at the taste and texture but continuing to hump his foot happily. “s’a bit late for that, baby.” you say with a sultry voice, low and sexy. “you can just eat me out afterwards.”

“do we even…? o-oh, okay. ‘m there… i-i’m close,” he trips and stumbles through his words, losing control of his taut hips that batter your poor, dripping fist while you spit down onto him. the frothy mix slides down and catches on the prominent veins spiralling around his dick to the base. which you give a squeeze. “do we even have time for that?” gojo asks, struggling to breathe through the smoke from his joint.

“i guess you’ll just have to hurry up ‘n cum for me. be quick, and we’ll see.” you glance up at him, so debauched yet so innocent. like a pretty flower tended to and cared for (by suguru) except you have prickly, threatening thorns.

gojo’s release starts to sneak up on him, senses heightened by the recreational drug coursing through the healthy blood in his veins. “y-you’re so bad. h-how the fuck did i get involved with you?” he laughs loud and menacingly, whilst looking completely and utterly deranged. gojo doesn’t let up on stimulating your pussy, humming around the spliff tucked between his perfect lips when you gush in response to him. dirty, depraved little girl. “g’na cum. g’na cum! let me cum. fuck, where do you want it?”

“i can swallow, satoru. give it to me.” your mouth and wrist begin to hurt — but you find it all worth it to have satoru collapse above you, lose to the snap of the thin thread of his sanity. he grabs ahold of his own dick, taking over from you, and smiles brilliantly when you stick out your tongue just for him. it rolls over your pretty lower lip, cherry red from your ministrations and slightly swollen from it all.

one. two. three.

he taps his soiled cockhead against the slobbery palette of your tongue — feeding you the last stream of his precum right before his big release. you press a hand to gojo’s tummy, feeling it fight and contact against your touch. he can’t hold back anymore, everything is too hot and too tight and too much. the roll up of weed between his teeth is gone, his beautiful eyes are hidden away from the world and before either of you know it — his high is hitting him like a tonne of bricks.

just like that, gojo loses the steady stream of his hips and his orgasm rips through him, warm and viscous seed floods your mouth — even seeping out at the corner of your bruised lips. it spurts copiously from his ravaged cock, painting your throat a shade of white too.

“h-holy shit!” satoru cries out loudly, tears springing to his eyes and gathering in his lashes. you don’t stop pumping at his dick until he’s done cumming, catching any misfires of his arousal with your tongue. you swallow in satisfaction and take to leaving small kisses against his tummy and hip bones until he stops trembling and returns to earth from the bright, silver moon that blessed his hair.

he quickly abandons his joint.

even though his legs are shaky and he can hardly breathe, static ringing loudly in his ears — satoru finds the strength within himself to pick you up from the floor and manhandles you against the bathroom door. a streak of excitement courses through you while you set your palms flat on the surface, allowing satoru to squish your left cheek against it too.

you’re barely able to turn your head back to look at him, a shy and coy smile spreading across your lips when you catch a glimpse of the dark expression coasting over satoru’s handsome features. “oh? what’s gotten into you?”

“you think i’m just gonna let you make me cum like that, and i’m not gonna get you off?” he answers your question with a question, growling out the syllables of each word impatiently. “i wish i could just rip this damn dress off’a you. it’s such a shame we have to go out there and say hi to your family afterwards.” using his foot, gojo kicks your ankles apart so that you’re nice and spread open for him — he inhales nastily while pushing your skirts up to sit at your hips, breathing in the scent of your gooey cunt as it cries for him. cries to be filled up by him. if asked, he could recognise the sweet aroma from your sex like a bloodhound chasing after a target. he’s got you committed to memory, he loves you that much.

the tulle of your dress rivals the colour of his eyes even when darkened with debauchery — it turns him on to know you wear his colour so proudly even in front of suguru. his hands shake as he messes with the fabric and you can just tell he’s fighting off the urge to tear it away from your body. if only you had the time. if only you were the only two people in the world.

without suguru, he could love up on you for hours with no issues. without suguru, you could perhaps be together without having to hide. without suguru — well, you hate yourself for even thinking that way. he’s your brother… and you need him. but clearly not as much as you need satoru to fill you up with something — tongue, fingers, cock. you’d take it all right now. take all of him.

you’re distracted by the feel of your lover’s searing lips against your naked shoulders, swooping down to place kisses on them tenderly. they’re more fluid, softer as satoru’s fingertips trickle over your breasts and pinch your pebbling nipples from over the bust of your dress. they cascade down to your waist next and suddenly your dress feels all too tight around your hips. your panties too sticky between your folds. you want them both off, and fast.

“s-satoru,” you murmur needily, arching your back into his broad chest — shivering at the roughness of his shirt on your skin. “satoru, please.” you add, hissing when his curious fingers delve beneath your skirts to press into the seam of your underwear, getting a feel for your wetness and how ready you are for him.

he shifts his fingers upwards, working them up to massage your clit in warm and rough circles — distracting you from giving gojo a proper answer so he can play with you a little more. “hmm?” comes gojo’s lazy reply. his head drops to your neck again and his tongue leaves a snails trail of saliva over the path of kisses he’s left on your skin “what’s the matter, baby? what do you need?” he mumbles in a lower octave right into your ear, tufts of white hair tickle your skin, only causing goosebumps to rise across it in a ripple effect.

pouting, your hips rise enough for him to possibly stick his hands down your panties to touch you properly — but satoru chooses to be mean, moving up to rub your tummy teasingly. “for you to… mph, please.”

“come on now little one. what is it that you’re after?” he scolds you playfully, toying with the little ribbon on the scalloped edge of your panties. you hate that him teasing you only serves to make you hush and turn you on more, a small trickle of your arousal running down your inner thigh. “use your words, be my good little girl,” pinging your waistband against your stomach, satoru adds to the seed of desire growing there — helping it to grow and nurturing it. “my fingers? my tongue?”

“t-tongue!” you squeal at the painful sting, not in pain — because you like it when gojo hurts you a little bit. it’s like a punishment for betraying your older brother.

“thank you for telling me, baby, your wish is my command.” at first, satoru doesn’t make a move to eat you out — instead, forces his hand deep into your panties to touch your clit, nice and raw. the silver haired man grins at the way you clench around nothing as he circles your tight little entrance and squirt small dribbles of your juices for him. “fuck, you’re so fucking wet for me, even now. even after sucking my cock and grinding on my shoe. if only suguru could see how nasty you are right now.” he could, at any moment geto could knock on that door and see you dripping on his best friend’s hand. the sentiment shouldn’t make you more aroused, you should make you feel horrified.

but as gojo dips a finger into your greedy little pussy, you realise that you’re just as depraved as him and that in the moment — you really don’t care.

because all you feel is ecstasy.

pushing back onto the sole finger squirming about against your squishy insides, you decide that you’ll deal with geto and the consequences of fucking his best friend later — rather, choosing to focus on how satoru immediately finds your g-spot because he knows your gummy, rippling walls like the backs of his masterful hands. the same hands and digits that skilfully trace the letters of his name into your pulsating clit.

“mmph… oh fuck. f-fuck you!” reaching between your soiled thighs and underneath a plethora of tulle, you grip gojo’s wrist to keep him in place, locked between your legs with his fingers stuffed in your cunt.

“fuck me, baby?” he coos to you in a patronising tone. “oh, sweetheart. i’m about to fuck you. gonna make you cum so hard. make you see stars…no, galaxies.” satoru pulls his finger out and nudges your sticky thighs apart again just to make sure that he has the space, enough room to cup the entirety of your sopping mound from over the fabric. so hot and filthy and sappy for him. satoru laments in satisfaction, yanking your panties down in one fail swoop and watching with perverted cobalt eyes as strings of your slick tie your honeyed sex to the material.

sniffling, you turn your head back as far as it’ll go to stare down your boyfriend with big, wet eyes and a blubbering voice. “please... i can’t wait anymore…” you hiccup like a petulant child who had their favourite toy stolen. pleading for something, anything to alleviate the unbearable yearning twisting in your gut.

your lover tsks in response, slowly descending to his knees behind you while his fingers coated in your succulent nectar grasp and knead at your fleshy ass — streaking it with clear marks. “okay, okay…poor baby.” gojo says airly in an attempt to console you like a mother would her crying infant. “you’re so needy, pretty girl. if anyone walking by could hear you, they’d think i weren’t fucking you right.” that’s far from true and the both of you know it, satoru is the only one who could appease you, take care of all your sexual needs — outside of that…you’re not so sure. you’re then reminded that suguru wouldn’t want satoru taking care of you ever. it makes your stomach flip with a confusing mix of lust and guilt.

“you want it that bad, don’t ya? you wanna feel good.” the man purrs from behind you, salacious voice a breath’s width away from your cunt while he licks a trail up your inner thigh. the vibrations reverberate through your skin, dancing right up to your swollen, unattended clit. “promise i’ll make you feel so, so good.” you’re almost embarrassed at how much you throb against gojo’s lips when he shoves his face into your pussy from behind, nudging his nose over your pleasure bud in circles until you open up for him like a flower in bloom.

you grind back against him passionately, rubbing your luscious and drenched folds all over his handsome face in an attempt to tame the itch of bliss that spreads through each and every one of your limbs. you’re tempting him but your sweet little whimpers and circling hips hardly coax satoru away from what he’s planning. his tongue doesn’t fuck it’s way past your quivering entrance like he’d said, but instead is replaced by a heavy hand smacking down hard on your pussy.

“satoru!” you cry out in an awful mix of delight and shock, sounding a little unhinged. “y-you promised!”

“yeah, yeah. i know… couldn’t help it. i just love it when you cry for me.” juices run down his forearm as if he’s bitten into a ripened peach and satoru gets the perfect view of your juicy ass jiggling for him too. he amorously slurps up the trail, leaning forward with an appetite to eat you out for real this time and nestled his tongue between your twitching, titillating folds.

he repeats the process again and again and again, smacking your poor pussy until you really are crying — chest heaving while you sob from both ends, tears ruining your perfect baby blue eyeshadow for the night. not having gojo’s mouth on you is like hell on earth, being spanked until you’re raw is torture too, especially when you’ve been holding back an orgasm for at least fifteen minutes. nevertheless, it all feels so fucking heavenly.

you search for a vice, something you can ground yourself with and settle for scraping your nails along the doors. satoru chuckles, tapping your sticky ass lovingly and even going as far as to kiss you there. “alright, i’ve had my fun and i’m done messing with you baby,” he hums sweetly, “lean back for me, put it on me baby. let your man eat you out.”

wrapping a strong arm around your middle, gojo pulls you back onto his awaiting, eager mouth. the first thing he does is slot his mouth against the entirety of your soaked slit, moaning loud and tugging at your heartstrings while the vibrations send you spiralling. the very tip of his tongue slips past your entrance with slight resistance from how thick it is, wriggling about in order to search for that special spot that makes you see stars. he press kisses, wet and sloppy, miscalculated, between your swollen folds and slurps up whatever you leak as if you’re drooling valuable liquid gold.

not a drop can be or will be wasted on satoru gojo.

keenly, your hips canter back onto gojo’s face — your plush ass cheeks jiggle with each thrust onto his tongue as though you’re reverse riding his cock. it fills you up just as nice too, warm and slippery against ecstasy inducing pinpoints along the ridges of your sluice walls. he can’t help but whine loudly at every roll of your pussy over his face, you taste so fucking good and he’ll drink you in as though you’re a tall glass of water. between sucks and slurps, your lover kitten licks at your core animalistically — lascivious sounds from between your thighs topping off the air in the bathroom.

your cute little clit, prominent and hard because of blood rush and it’s burning desire, is next on satoru’s bucket list. the sharpness of his teeth latch onto it, rolling it between their two sets roughly until you’re clawing at your own throat for air — trying your hardest not to scream and frighten the poor passers by. you’ve become such a mess and it pleases the white haired man, to see you gushing like a fruitful stream straight into his thirsty mouth, down his chin and cheeks — even over his bobbing adam’s apple.

your hands leave a track of sweat as they slip down the door you’re plastered on and your chest rises and falls rapidly while you’re tongue fucked by your boyfriend. there’s no room to breathe or to cope, satoru’s tongue pinned to your clit like a moth to candle flame — drawing rough shapes on your clit before sweeping downwards just beneath your clenching hole to catch what oozes from it before it can hit the ground. oh, if only you could see him, his bright blue eyes just as watery and lovesick as your own and his face pink with a sun-burn type of blush from how hot he is for you.

if you tried hard enough, to listen in over the sounds of your wet pussy being sucked on for dear life as well as satoru’s content gripes and laments — you can just about make out the vehement and delectable noises of him avariciously jerking off his pre-cum flowing cock while he prepares it to fuck you later on.

“y-yeah…oh my god, satoru. satoru don’t stop!” the words feel tacky in your mouth as you try to get them out, communicate to gojo how good he makes you feel. he likes it when you’re vocal with him, and you the same, it makes you both feel heard and happy to know that you’re pleasing your partner. though, it’s a little difficult for you, when you’re so dizzy you don’t know what’s up or down and you can’t help but to cream around the base of gojo’s tongue while it twists against your lush and gushy inner walls.

briefly, your brother’s best friend pulls away from your cunt — remaining connected to you by a rope of clear elixir leaked from your tight hole. “wouldn’t dream of it, pretty girl. god… i just wanna fuck you up. make you scream a little more…” he snarls like a beast, his big hands roughly grabbing your ass as he spreads them — watching the webs of arousal form while he peels each cheek away from one another. “fucking hell… you’re drenched. but we can’t be too loud, don’t want someone to hear.” there’s a higher pitched lilt to gojo’s sacchariferous mithers as he delves back under your skirts, bobbing his entire head to drag his tongue between your fat pussy folds.

jolting at the sensation, which provides a welcome distraction from the fact that your family…your brother, are waiting obviously just metres away, your hips begin to chase the high you’ve been holding back for what seems like hours now. viciously, you ride satoru’s tongue like it’s a perfectly plump cock made to plug you full. “uhuh, oh…fuck yeah. ride it for me, pretty girl, ride my t-tongue. m-make yourself feel good. fuck my face…please, please, please.” gojo begs you, even though most of his speech is muffled and you’re the one at his mercy.

shame should be running through you, not hunger for gojo, you shouldn’t want to drive your hips down onto his face so hard that his nose prods your clit over and over again. you’re so dirty, filthy and nasty for doing this…here of all places. but you can’t help the way gojo fucks you nor the way gojo feels. you don’t think you want to give that up for your brother. even if it costs you.

you can’t imagine a life without hearing satoru’s needy groans between your legs, the ones that set fireworks off at your tailbone — where all of that unreleased pleasure builds up.

“you’re gonna cum…” he sighs dreamily. “want you to cum for me. let it go, let it all out f’me.” gojo adds and from then on — his mouth stays married to your needy cunt, focused on working you right to the edge and pushing you over. he licks you up and down, anchors you to his face with that same arm snaking its way around your waist again — mostly to hold you up because you’re so shaky from the ecstasy in your veins that you can’t do it on your own.

the whole ordeal is sickening and beautiful all at the same time — no one knows your body like satoru does. no other man has any idea how to please you in the way that he does. they don’t know that you like it when he flicks his tongue against your sluice and sweet sex with an open mouth just so you can hear him eat you out. they have no idea about how sensitive you are when you’re close, that brushing up against your g-spot with the tip of gojo’s tongue is enough to have you spewing a fresh wave of your essence from your pathetic hole.

the delirium and rapture that mounts within you, like bricks stacked in bricks, becomes too much for you to bear — some of your release already starting to trickle out of you in clear streams. “‘m cumming, ‘toru!” you warn him in a high pitched squeal before it’s too late, white noise filling your ears as you succumb to a powerful orgasm.

satoru gojo thinks that if he died right here, right now, he would be happy — he wouldn’t even care. what, with the way you gush into his mouth like tidal waves of a wild tsunami, guilt flushed out of your system by tonnes of arousal. you clamp down on his tongue and practically suffocate the man, humping weakly at gojo’s face until your entire body is limp and you have absolutely nothing left to give.

once you’ve made it through the aftershocks of your high, satoru slowly retreats from between your thighs and makes his way to your body, spinning you around and capturing your lips in a delicately placed kiss before your brain has the sense to wake up. the night should end here, you should push him away and fix yourself up in a good enough state to return to suguru and the rest of your family to enjoy dinner…stop the guilt from bubbling up.

but satoru has always had a way about charming you.

“we’re not finished yet…” he whispers to you passionately, his own hips pinning you to the bathroom door so you can feel his second erection rub against your tummy. “there’s more of you to ruin.” he continued to lament, his lips stained with your arousal grazing your own before he licks into your mouth so you can taste what he tastes too. automatically, your body bows into his — ready to have what he’s got waiting for you.

perhaps your mind is still lagging, because you feel it before you see it — the tacky love taps of your lover’s cock against your stimulated sex, the lewd squelch that comes from gojo’s cockhead poised and ready to jut forward past your fluttering entrance. “i want you so fucking badly, i gotta… need to be inside you…” he moves to hike your thigh up against his slender hips — preparing to bottom out inside of you, but you stop him just before then with your nails digging into his sweat laden dress shirt.

“can i ride you?” you ask him hazily.

“what?” gojo bleats, confused and enamoured all at once.

swallowing thickly, you repeat your words — leisurely rolling your hips back and forth in a premature pussy job. being sure to rub yourself back and forth against the length of satoru. “can i ride you?”

“fuck me,” he sniggers breathlessly and says your name. “aren’t you just full of surprises tonight? you can do whatever you want to me, baby. i can take it.”

with his permission, you undo the last of gojo’s buttons and smooth over the expanse of his place flesh, thumb at his budding pink nipples and then, form a necklace around his unmarred throat with your hands. he coughs and splutters in surprise but allows you to walk him backwards until the backs of his knees hit the toilet and he topples onto its seat in a sitting position.

your hand moves swiftly to cup gojo’s jaw as you look above him and stand between his thighs that instantly manspread to make room for his pretty little baby between them. one of your perfectly manicured nails drags down his bottom lip, then becomes a finger that delves deep into the heat of his mouth. “you’re… you’re beautiful,” he gargles around the digit, staring deep into your soulful brown eyes. “and i adore you.” it’s true. you’re the most perfect thing he’s ever seen even if your braids are askew and your dress is ruffled and your makeup is almost entirely gone.

even when you have satoru gojo in a choke hold like this you’re still stunning to him. not one thing could tarnish such rare beauty that you posses. if the end of his life came in this moment, he wouldn’t even mind. he wonders if you’re aware of that fact or still believe the little voice in your mind telling you that he’s just using you.

gojo was bad with words, he knows that. he often got timings wrong and said things at the wrong time (like now when he tries to tell you that he loves you but in his own words, hence ‘adore’) but he always means them. he can tell that you’re getting in your head right now, standing above him — trying to decipher if he’s telling the truth. if he wanted you, you wished he’d say he wanted you. explicitly.

he wished that he could tell you explicitly, but he’s so fucked up in the head that he struggles.

so instead, satoru takes your hand in his (the one in his mouth) and moves it far back enough so that he can kiss your knuckles sweetly. a gesture to prove his truth to you. one to prove how much he loves you.

the hard expression on your face softens and you drop to satoru’s lap — straddling him so that his girth presses directly against your juicy cunt like before and your thighs are either side of his. “then make love to me,” you goad him, circling your hips and chasing the delicious burn of his dick pressing into you — a feeling that you miss all the time but can never get used to. “love me like you mean it.”

it’s not long before satoru is at your neck again, leaving a trail of gentle kisses along its plaines. “i can do that. i can give that to you. do you think you’ll be able to take it?” he questions lightly, a large hand splaying across your back — prepared to guide your movements.

“y-yeah… ‘m ready.” you exhale carefully, your mind pleasantly fuzzy as gojo grabs onto your ass and encourages you to raise your hips for him. the other hand now holds onto his dripping dick to position it at your entrance — he runs it through your soaked folds a couple times and dips in and out of your hole. you make such a cute little noise when satoru starts to push into you, sucking him in so well and clenching around the circumference of his bulbous tip as if to trap him inside before you’ve managed to sink down on him. it continues like that for a little while, satoru holding you up by your ass or your thighs while he patiently waits for you to take him the rest of the way.

he fucks you gently with the tip at first, getting you used to the delicious stretch to your pussy — despite the resistance he meets from how tight you are.

“there you go baby…you can take over now. sink down on me when you’re able to, kay?” satoru peppers your face in amusement while he watches you try to stabilise your breathing. there’s a long way to go and you’re still so sensitive from your last orgasm. “hm, you’re so fuckin’ cute.” he muses, nipping at your cheek without any real bite.

“s-shut up,” you state through a pout, controlling your tears which only make your love snort affectionately. crescent moons from your nails take their shape in satoru’s milky shoulders, leaving pink indents in place as you slide further down his cock, taking inch by inch until you’re comfortably nestled at his balls. “satoru…why’s there so much of you?” in reality, you’re not actually complaining — content with your ribbed walls kissing the prominent veins on his shaft. you clench around him experimentally, sending a ripple of desire through the man at your mercy and finally let him bottom out inside of you as your juices run down him.

he does nothing but smile lazily up at you, taking your wrists and coordinating them to rest on his chest for you to use as more comfortable leverage. as much as you like the way he’s pressed up against your insides — you find the strength to peel your hips away from satoru’s clothed thighs and thrust back down with a resounding, wet slap that echoes throughout the restaurant bathroom.

it should be criminal, maybe even illegal, how warm, tight and wet you are — as if you’re a virgin who’s never been fucked before. he splutters and stammers as his overstimulated cockhead nudges against your silken walls and they quiver around him feverishly. he could charge you with a life sentence, keeping him jailed in your pretty pussy for life. “i know i said i’d let you ride me but god,” he whispers, trailing his fingers up the front of your dress. just as ice cold and ringed fingers circle your areolas from over the fabric, satoru thrusts up into you — driven insane by lust and desire, his eyes disappear onto the dark night of his skull. “cant help it… i wanna make you feel good. wanna fuck you.”

there’s no time for you to respond, no chance to wrack your brain for a witty comeback because you’re too busy focusing on trying to keep yourself seated in gojo’s lap. your eyes become misty and satoru’s voice becomes murky, breaths of exertion coasting over your lips and your skin as he sets a constant, almost bullying, pace to his slender hips as they barrage into your sex. it’s hard enough to pull squelching sounds from your messy pussy, and enough for the sound of his breeder’s balls to reverberate between your working bodies.

in this position, satoru is able to hit deep — churn your gummy insides up and hit every pleasure spot your tiny fingers can’t reach. you’re a slumped and helpless mess in his lap, pathetic, since you were the one who wanted to be on top in the first place. but neither of you mind it, satoru likes being able to take care of you like this, watch every contortion of your angelic face and twitch of your lips and flutter of your lashes as he pounds into you from below.

“that’s it… that’s it pretty girl,” he coos to you so softly, glancing up at you with massive silvery-blue eyes holding pure fixation for you. “you want it so bad, letting me have you like this. i love it, i love yo—” he cuts himself off with a deep growl and reaches around the meat at your waist, your soft tummy as well as your plentiful skirts to graze your clit as arousal pearls over it — each brush at the swelling nub is calculated and catered exactly how you like, especially after falling into sheets with him so many times over the last two years. his touch treads softly on your body while he takes it slow, passionately ruining your insides.

you hiccup and a light sparks behind the sapphire frame of your lover’s eyes. he repeats the action, only this time pinching your clit before he carefully pulls you close and angles his hips into your g-spot a little more — worshipping your body like a queen on her throne. “listen to that baby, your pussy sounds so pretty taking all of me.” gojo punctuates his words with deep, purposeful movements that have his achingly hot cock repeatedly jamming against that one particular spot. “you need it like this, need me to always take the lead, hm? you act like you’re such a big girl, but really you’re just my needy little one.”

satoru feeds you a mix of praise and light condescending remarks, keeping you under his spell just like always has. as if he were a pied piper using his darling moans to draw you in. he keeps you pacified like a baby with languid thrusts and sloppy kisses all over — barely giving you a moment to think independently. the hand wrapped around your waist keeps you anchored to gojo, teaching you dance in a sensual sticky grind that only lovers know how to do.

dropping your forehead to rest against his, you let out a blissful whimper. “s’not fair, you always… ah f-fuck! you always take control from me,” you’re supposed to be the one using satoru. using him to take your mind off of suguru while you remind the man of all the reasons he should love you openly and publicly. but, like always, you fall victim to the touch which causes you to blossom above satoru and the candied voice he uses that make sweet nectar pour from your abused little hole.

“it’s cause you adore me,” gojo tells you in a rough voice. states it like it’s fact written in a history book for lovers. you can’t and don’t have time to deny him — managing a weak whine of annoyance when his lips attach to the cliffs of your collar bones. his tongue rolls saliva over the area where he can’t leave a physical mark, knowing that the white hot sensation will stick with you all night — making it just as good as any other forbidden hickey or stolen love bite. “you love me, don’t you?”

“g-god yes!” neither of you have any idea what exactly it is you’re saying yes to — whether it be the way he pounds at your puffy, swollen mound or saying that you love him, it doesn’t really matter. you’re both too far gone. you finally start to grind down on him again, using all of your strength to push past your overstimulation and match satoru’s toe-curling stream of thrusts, syncing up your cantering hips. every stroke of his cock within the depths of your silken, pulsating cunt earns you a muffled whine from him.

a fresh red tint begins to glow under the surface of your lover’s pale skin, the blood coursing through his veins and coagulating at his cheeks is dotted with love and lust hormones just like your own. the fact that he’s barely able to pull out of your selfish pussy means that there’s a shine to his polyester clad thighs from your juices — the glisten barely catching under the artificial light in the bathroom.

everything overwhelms you, you feel like you’re drowning. fat beads of precum between your sore thighs begin to form because you’re clenching down on gojo so hard, his cock even fights it’s way to pull out of your addictive heat. you can’t let him go, your body won’t let him go, dragging him into the routine of crazy intense and creamy sex — bulbous and purpling cockhead consistently digging into your g-spot. everything is so wrong but it feels so right — it doesn’t make any sense but you feel so nice.

“yanno…” satoru slurs over the heavy weight of saliva spreading through his mouth while he runs it. “‘m so fucking lucky… to be the only man who gets to see you like this. whining so sweetly, legs all shaky, pussy so fucking wet.” appreciatively, his cruel cerulean gaze drops to where his milky cock disappears into your fat pussy and his digits move from your clit to spread your netherlips apart, putting the glaze of your essence that coats his rock hard girth on display.

gojo truly is so very lucky, to be the only man with the pleasure of jackhammering into you to his hearts content. he’s so lucky that there isn’t anyone else you want aside from him, that all you want his for him to be better for you. he really should work on that. especially if he wants to be the only one who lives and breathes you for the rest of forever. on the contrary, you hate that he only sees your worth to him while fucking you — it makes bitterness simmer underneath the absolute depraved ecstasy you feel.

but you’re not giving satoru gojo up. not in this lifetime.

taking advantage of your hands planted firmly against gojo’s broad chest — you peel your sweaty thighs away from gojo’s trembling ones, his cock being tugged away from the snugness of your oozing, sopping mound. an incredulous gasp lays wet on the seam of the silver haired man’s lips. he misses you. he wants you so bad and there’s no greater relief than when you slam back down onto his cock, hips cantering down so fast that he easily hits your womb. the force makes you both drool and you throw yourself forward to capture gojo in a messianic kiss between two lovers.

euphoria chillingly slips into your veins while you rock yourself against gojo feverishly, both of your chests heaving erratically from your love making. “you…you talk too much,” you mumble into his mouth, tongue rolling over his as if to swipe the words from his tongue. if he says anymore you won’t last any longer. you lick the salt from his lips, an obsessive glint in your eye — because satoru gojo is all that you want. “talk way too much…just love me, just fuck me.”

satoru wants to love you, it’s like he’s genetically coded to. he can’t imagine being this in love with anyone else aside from you — but there’s a selfish mental block on his mind that stops him from giving you the commitment you need. right now, in this moment, he’ll give you the pieces of himself that he can. he’ll make love to you, he’ll make you see stars and galaxies, he’ll do whatever he can to make you happy right here, right now.

sweat from the exertion of rutting into you pins his silvering locks to his forehead — it drips down the side of gojo’s face which you lovingly lick. your lover wraps both of his arms around your waist and pulls you in so that you nestle on his chest — giving you the leverage you need to pound yourself on curve of his cock, seeping viscous honey down his shaft. the scene is obscene, but there’s love and adoration buzzing between your tangled limbs.

hearts sprinkle themselves amongst the flecks in your eyes as you look up at gojo and your pupils dilate at the chorus of skin slapping on skin, the pap pap pap of your swollen mound while your lover buries himself deep in your warmth — pulling unholy sounds from your angelic body. the toilet he sits on creaks beneath the force of your ministrations, threatening to break just like you might on top of your lover.

“i’d do anything for you, a-anything you wanted,” gojo counters, quivering beneath you with his hair sticking to your sweltering skin. it’s true, he’d rip stars from the sky and skyscrapers to the ground. his heart chases after your every desire. between frenzied bucks and mismatched smooches, the man swipes his fingertips over your pulsating clit — rubbing fat droplets of creamy precum into your folds and the sensitive nub. the whole time, he keeps you stuffed full of his cock, hardly pulling out each time you lift and drop yourself on his dick.

mewling like a pornstar, your hands shoot upwards and wring themselves in moonlight hair — a tell tale sign that you’re getting closer and closer to reaching cloud nine. “y-yeah? then make me cum, l-let me make a mess on your cock. please.” you plead, the back and forth of your cunt over gojo’s lap tampering with your system by sending orgasmic shockwaves through you.

“i gotcha, anything for you, beautiful. s-shit!” using his free hand, gojo grabs at the fat of your ass and pulls you up and down on his girth — giving him the room to pummel your pussy hard and fast. “you squeeze me real tight when i act all desperate for you.”

“a-aren’t you? o-oh ‘toru, right there!” you exclaim and ask all at once in one high pitched moan, failing to press for an answer while gojo bullies his way through your walls and right up to your womb. your clit smears over his hipbone, painting him with tube dulcet juices.

gojo builds up momentum inside of you, dragging his seedy tip along your ravaged walls from how deep he’s able to get inside of you. “i am… only god knows that i am. fuck, i wanna be yours, want this to last forever,” white starts to froth at the base of his dick, streaking all over your soiled folds as your cunt squirts copious amounts of essence each time his balls clap against you. “think i’m gonna fuckin’ cum, might be inside.”

“satoru please…” your hips stutter above his, choking out gojo’s cock for fear life in an attempt to get him to fill you up to the brim with his seed. you tear up and he barely lets you off his twitching erection.

“i know baby, i fucking know — i’m right there with you. hold onto me. my fucking baby.” with the last of his energy, satoru assaults your pussy with a barrage of desperate thrusts, jerking you about in his lap. that’s all either of you need before you’re thrown over the edge, rendering you limp, cum soaked messes in one another’s arms. the ropes in your lower tummy, that have been burning this entire time, finally begins to unravel.

the world around you blurs, your brain fucking lags and you actually fucking squirt. a scream rips through you and burns at the edges of your voice, following through your uncontrollable shakes. clear streams of arousal shoot from your sloppy, dirty cunt and pool in satoru’s dress pants — soaking him to the bone.

“that’s it baby, give it to me. all of it, make a mess — want it all over me.” satoru goads hoarsely, losing control of his thrusts until they become uncoordinated and lackadaisical. “a-ah! oh! holy shit, mmm ‘m cumming baby. f-for you…” the aftershocks of your high and little twitches from your heavenly hole trigger the white haired man’s orgasm. right before his release, his hand reaches up from toying with your sex to grab at your sapphire pendant — using the chain to yank you up into a sensual lip lock that seals his fate, practically pulling it off of you while you make out through his high.

hot, sticky and thick ropes of white seed spill into you — there’s even so much of it that it overflows from your tiny entrance and oozes against your raw mound. you’re still cumming, forcing satoru out of you while he continues to flood your womb — what doesn’t make it is left to smear over your thighs and poofy dress, glazing you in viscous cum.

still releasing in spurts, satoru carefully pulls out of you and leans back against the cool tile of the bathroom wall so that you slump against his chest — relaxed. warm content simmers in the air between your maze of limbs and you leak against one another sweetly.

“so much for fixing your necklace,” satoru jests over the static itching at your brain while you come down from your earth-shattering high.

you offer him up a dopey smile, all of the tension from earlier on in the night melting away when you look at him. “we’ll have to hide it from suguru, so he doesn’t notice. we’ve been gone for a while too.” no matter what gojo puts you through, it’s always worth it for the way he makes you feel after sex.

warm, cherished and cared for.

just like suguru would want you to be.

“well, whose fault is that, little one?” a chaste kiss is pressed against your hairline as satoru helps you to sit up in his lap — drawing back slightly to give you a once over and mirroring the way you grin at him with a toothy smirk. “little miss ‘we don’t have time.’ — i’ll have to fix your make up, can’t have you walking back out there like i’ve just rocked your shit.”

despite his crude words, satoru’s gesture makes your chest bristle with happiness. “you’re an idiot, satoru gojo.”

“an idiot that you adore. an idiot who you like way too much,” he fires back childishly. “c’mere, let me get rid of the mess i made of you.”

you do, like him too much, a little too much for your own good.

it’s twisted, the mere fact that satoru has such a hold on your heart that you can’t seem to escape no matter how hard you try— and it only worsens when he’s good to you like this. so good with the way he helps you clean up, tends to your ruffled dress, redoes your smudged makeup and jokes with you while he dries his sex stained pants under the hand drier before you go back out to meet your family.

you’re a love sick fool when it comes to him.

and you have no idea how much that’s going to change.

suguru geto was not an idiot.

his numerous academic accolades are enough evidence of that. in highschol he graduated with a GPA of 4.0% which only escalated by the time he got to college — which was like a breeze to him. by the time he’d finished his four year degree, there was an industry opportunity waiting for geto on the other side of all of his hard work and efforts.

it pleased him to know that people thought highly of his skills, appreciated the knit and grit and blood, sweat and tears he put into his work. he had a passion for seeking the truth, discovering the reasons and meanings for people’s actions — it was suguru’s calling. that’s why he became a criminal defence lawyer.

why do people do what they do? why do people lie? why do people run and hide?

with all of suguru geto’s smarts and analytical skills — his ability it to think critically, you would think he’d have it all figured out by now.

suguru geto was not stupid.

so why is it that he can’t figure out what’s wrong with you? why you’ve been so skittish and why this entire night? he knows you, his baby sister, like you were his own flesh and blood. like you were the back of his slightly calloused and hard working hand. you may have been adopted, you may not share the same DNA but suguru has lived with you and been raised with you long enough to know how your genetic code reacts to certain pressures and scenarios and situations.

you’re his little sister for christ’s sake.

as you make your way back to your family’s designated table, weaving between pedigree bred children and their families, waiters and waitresses working tired on their feet — he notices how the tension you’d been experiencing the whole night has suddenly dissipated from your body as if it were never there. your shoulders have dropped, your movements flow as loosely as your baby blue cupcake dress does, your eyes are bright and full of an energy suguru has only seen once in someone else.

another soul he’s grown up with.

the very idea makes him feel ill, the food on his plate suddenly becoming unappealing and bitter against the insides of his mouth. you’re not… you would never…

“hi,” you greet the table tentatively, the corners of your cocoa painted lips quirking up into a small smile. “did i miss anything?”

suguru forgoes answering you to ask his own question. “where have you been?”

the chatter at your table dies down only just as your parents register your presence with the group once more — joining in on your conversation with your brother like a car merging lanes.

“oh! i was just in the bathroom… you know, girl stuff. powdering my nose.” you offer up as an excuse, twirling the end of your curled braids between your gentle fingers. a habit your brother knows you’ve picked up when you’re shy, yet, content. “you know how it goes.”

his dark eyes sweep over your face. suguru doesn’t know much about make-up, just that you like doing it. he had been the one to get you your first eyeshadow palette in your teen years but that’s as far as he goes. everything seems to be in place, perfect, you’re beautiful as you always have been.

but there’s a slight smudge to your lip combo that bleeds just past the curve of your cupid’s bow — out of place enough for geto to notice. the colour is different too. black instead of brown, as if you’ve mixed up the lipsticks in a rush.

suguru tries not to dwell. he really does. dropping the topic and retreating to his dinner plate while you idly chat to your parents about your new job but something in his gut stirs — he remembers something.

gojo is nowhere to be seen and your pendent is missing.

you can’t. you’d never…

as if on cue, the moonlight man returns to the party, loudly pulling out his seat and taking his place next to you once again. gojo’s hair is a mess, much messier than it was before… as if someone had roughed it up with desperate fingers. your chocolaty lip colour is smeared along his neck in deconstructed lip prints as if he’d tried to wash them away, dotted along the collar of his crisp white shirt too. the contrast of the colours make it blatantly obvious what’s been going on too. the silver chain of your necklace hangs freely from his pocket.

“did i miss anything?” he asks casually, despite how not-put-together he looks — much less in comparison to you, who’d returned to dinner first.

it makes geto’s skin itch and crawl, the similarity between your words and gojo’s. he can’t even think to reply, yet the words come tumbling out before he can stop them.

“wouldn’t you like to know,” suguru snaps callously. “where have you been?”

“wanted to see if the little miss made it back to the table alright.” gojo lies smoothly, resting a large hand on your shoulder. geto notes the way he strokes your neck with his thumb. “you know how she is, clueless without suguru, right?”

your parents and gojo burst out into charmed laughter, adding to the bustle and ambience of the restaurant. suguru’s face only sours as your father chime’s in next. “this one probably raised her better than i did. he was so excited to have a little sister, wouldn’t go anywhere without her.” it’s the alcohol that causes your father to blurt out the embarrassing memory — it’s sweet and cherished, but does nothing to help ease your brother’s boiling fury as he’s patted on the back by his dad.

pet like a dog getting a treat.

a reward for taking care of you all these years.

“yeah, raised her to be smart and proper. that’s why she’s a graduate and not mooching off of us anymore.” geto seethes from your left.

from your right, satoru reaches for his crystal glass for a drink — only to realise that it’s empty. he next reaches for the bottle of moscato ordered for the table, and pours some for himself until it levels out at the rim of his glass. “ouch suguru, way to hit a man where it hurts,” your ‘boyfriend’ whines petulantly, sipping the surface of his drink. “you know i work for dad now, you’d be so proud. still making money, not mooching off of his.”

you fiddle with your cutlery, the silverware awkwardly clattering against your plate while you finish off the steak you’d ordered. then, your mother breaks the tension.

“does anybody want to order dessert?”

satoru is quick to jump on her distraction train — enthusiastically nodding his head with silver locks flying about the place. “oh you know me, ma. i love a sweet lil’ thing, got a huge sweet tooth.” satoru chirps excitedly — as chipper as can be.

“that you do dear boy, pick out anything you’d like.” your dad says in turn.

the silver haired stray at your table pretends to ponder before clapping his hands together — causing both you and geto to jerk at the sound.

“daifuku!”

“oh, that’s been a recent favourite of our little girl’s, hasn't it darling?” mum gushes proudly. “reminds me so much of her.”

the anxiety in the back of your mind spikes to an all time high as your dragged into the conversation once more — suguru hot on your trail, close to uncovering it all. you shrink under the burning gazes of everyone at the table — your lover, your parents and your brother. satoru, of course, takes amusement in knowing you crave his favourite sweet even when you’re apart. geto is less than impressed.

you nod and gojo lets out a laugh that sets your soul alight and sends a shiver down your spine. “that’s right, our girl is just the sweetest little thing.” he praises you, resting his cheek on a closed fist, gojo’s elbow sitting comfortably on the table while he stares over at you dreamily.

suguru geto was not a fool.

he could see right through the happenings before his very eyes. the way you looked up at satoru, your expression docile and pure, dark eyes glimmering and brimming with so much idolisation and worship for satoru, it was a look suguru had seen many times before. it was a look previously saved only for him — from little sister to older brother.

you stare up at gojo like he holds all of the world’s secrets, like he could keep you safe from any and all types of harm, like you love him.

“i’ll have what he’s having,” geto hears you murmuring airily, but there’s static ringing in his ears and red flashing before his eyes — he’s that pissed off at his sudden realisation.

it’s only when his gaze flits to his best friend, his one and only, satoru gojo that the dam breaks and all of suguru’s emotions and epiphanies from the night come bursting out in shades of white hot fury. because satoru matches your expression, his blue ocean eyes drown you in love and he looks as though he’s won the fucking lottery. hazily and smugly grinning at you while the table discusses desserts.

the final puzzle piece that suguru has been looking for clicks into place.

it all hits him like a truck.

“oh you slick motherfucker…” suguru growls slowly, his words fighting through their prison of his gritted pearly white teeth. the syllables and their sound contrast heavily with the abrupt way in which your darker haired sibling stands from his chair — almost sending it flying to the floor as he slams a fist down onto the table. his other hand points accusingly towards your lover, and everyone’s attention falls on him.

“suguru what are you—?”

“you fucked her. didn’t you?”

expressions of incredulousness morph on the faces of your dinner guests ( yourself included ), shocked by geto’s bellowing voice and stone cold glare. not to mention the callousness of his words. he knows. and it’s like you’ve been doused in a bucket of ice water. he knows what you and satoru have been up to, the smoke has cleared and you can no longer hide from him.

“suguru geto, mind your manners!” one of your parents snaps, but you can’t quite place the voice — every sound in the restaurant blurs into one and your head swims with a dangerous mix of panic and alcohol. he knows. your mind screams, the pink and squishy organ dully thumping against it’s calcium cage — your skull.

“fuck manners,” he barks, suguru’s mouth beginning to froth like a dog rabid with rabies. his face hardens as if it’s been set in stone, while a storm clouds geto’s previously welcoming eyes. “answer my question, satoru.”

innocently, yet with an air of confidence and patronisation, gojo tilts his head to the side like that of a puppy — his bright white teeth put on display as he smiles slow and softly as if to diffuse the situation with his charm. “i don’t know what you’re talking about—“

“bullshit!” suguru fires back, his wrath beginning to boil over the edge like the restaurant’s signature slow cooked stew. he begins to roll up the white sleeves of his dress shirt — as if he’s preparing for a fight. one with his best friend. once the material is snug around the bulge in his bicep, your brother slams his hands down on the table once again, causing heads to turn and cutlery to clatter about the place. “that’s fucking bullshit satoru and you know it. i can see it on you. i can smell it on you.”

in all your years of living with the geto family, becoming a part of it and finding your sense of belonging with them — you’ve never seen your brother this angry, let alone see such red hot rage directed at someone he cares about. someone you care about too.

“sugu,” you whimper and stand, trying to direct his attention away from your lover boy. “suguru it’s okay. it’s not what it looks like—!”

another slam of his hands on the table slices through your meek words — causing you to jump out of your skin.

swirling black eyes hideous with anger and upset switch their attention to you — tearing you apart underneath their judgemental gaze. suguru has never looked at you like that. he’s always been so good to you, never been mad at you without cause or at least let you seen so. that was until today.

“i wasn’t fucking talking to you. sit down and keep quiet. let your big brother handle this.” geto spits, the pain of his worded venom shooting painfully to your heart — causing tears to sting at your waterline.

“don’t fucking talk to her like that.” satoru keeps his voice low, in a tone you’ve only ever heard him use with the guys hitting on you at college. it’s dark and threatening, but most of all, protective. protective over you. you never thought it would be thrown at suguru. he stands up too while you sink back down, catching a glimpse of your parents’ worried stares from across the table.

onlookers in the restaurant are no different.

“so, you think you can speak for her now? since when did you two get so close, hm? did you two fuck? did i hit a sore spot, gojo? ” a rich, sarcastic laugh reverberates from geto’s vocal chords. the whole scenario is…entertaining to him. his best friend, his brother of all people, fucking with his little sister — knowing how it would make him feel.

there’s a beat of silence across the dinner table, consisting of nothing but death glares and heaving chests.

but then all of a sudden, satoru leans forward with his palms pressed flat against the table’s surface — a sick smile twisting on his ever-soft and glossy pink lips as he jeers back at the younger male, taunting suguru.

“oh i’ve been hitting her spots alright.”

you feel like you’ve been doused in cold once again, the blood that had been flushing to your face, now freezing in your veins. the fact that satoru would reveal intimate details of your love or sex life to the light of day (let alone your older brother) should make you fall ill. yet, in some sick and twisted way it makes butterflies flap their dainty wings in your lower tummy.

because he’s admitting it, that he wants to be with you, to suguru’s face.

“we’ve been closer than you could have ever imagined, suguru. nice and close, she outta have been swallowing me down.” satoru doubles down, because once he starts running his mouth, he can never stop.

stopping them both now would be futile. but your parents are watching, other guests and staff are watching. it’s humiliating. having the two men you care about most go at each other like this. “satoru!” you squeal, desperate.

“oh you nasty motherfucker. so you did sleep with my sister.” geto growls before turning to you, furious. “how long? and don’t you dare lie to me.”

“s-sugu, please. not here.” you start with a trembling voice, tears slipping down your cheeks freely while you look between the two men.

“i said how long!”

the way your brother raises his voice at you causes you to flinch back into your shell and for satoru to push his way between you both protectively. he would never let you get hurt, he had promised you that. even if he had done so himself. he wasn’t about to let suguru wound you too.

“y’got cotton between your ears or something, suguru?” satoru makes himself tall and intimidating, towering over suguru. it was something that worked with everyone, scared them off from the person that was his and the one that he loved — you. but suguru wasn’t buying that act. “i said. stop. fucking. talking to her like that.” each of his menacing words are punctuated by a shove to your brother’s chest, each one taking a swing at your heart. you hate to see them hurting each other, you hate being in the middle of it all. suguru takes it all, as if he’s numb from the news, staggering back into another family’s table — causing their glasses and dishes to collide and clatter about until it stops and gojo grabs at the collar of geto’s shirt. “if you’re gonna be mad and yell at someone, be mad at me.”

satoru adjusts his grip on your brother, but his blue eyes beg for him to let it go. for you to all go home and figure this out somewhere else.

suguru just can’t. his mind can’t wrap around the idea that you’ve been leaning on someone else this whole time — using someone else. sleeping with his best friend all this time. it’s not in his nature to be violent, geto has been perfect all his life and never veered from the correct path. he would never hit anyone. he’s never felt the urge to put his hands on someone, unlike satoru. but in that moment, looking at his best friend and feeling the blood pour from the open wound in his chest.

exasperated by the stab wound to the back, from both you and satoru.

“you’re right,” the words taste like acid on suguru’s tongue as he grasps at gojo’s own collar with his green hand. never in a million years did he picture himself hating someone he loved with his whole heart. it physically pains him to even think about resenting you. it makes his vision shake and bleed with a dark red, he feels so irrevocably angry that he might hurt someone. “it’s you i should be pissed with.”

geto moves without thinking, every fibre of his being reverting back to man’s natural instinct as his fist connects harshly with the underside of gojo’s chin. the taller of the two stumbles back in shock — thick and temperate scarlet coating his pearly white teeth from where he’s bitten down on his tongue along with the force. satoru barely has time to react not before suguru is on him again; landing another punch square in his face — accompanied by a sickening crack.

your brother grabs at your lover, shaking him by the lapels of his now bloodied suit and you scream loud enough to lower the temperature of the dining hall and fill it with chills because suguru has always told you to look away from violence. and this time you couldn’t.

you couldn’t bare to look away from those beautiful blue eyes as they took a hit for you.

satoru sways backwards and forwards, clearly stunned at the force behind his best friend’s fists. he damn near collapses into the table behind him, causing the onlookers to yelp and cry out at his injured state. he’s got a busted lip, bruised cheeks and nose and he’s still the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

“fuck, suguru!” gojo’s voice wobbles, he sounds wounded. both inside and out. “what the fuck?” eventually, he grounds himself, tongue darting out to lick the patch of crimson at the corner of his lip. he swipes his bloody nose on the back of his hand too — steeling his already hard, azure eyes.

“you deserved it. pulling this shit with my sister? are you fucking insane? you could have had anyone else—“ suguru cracks his knuckles, shaking them out.

you feel as though you’re in the middle of a battle — one for your honour. words that leave battle scars are thrown from both gojo and geto on each side, swords of male ego clash at the centre and you’re nothing but a defenceless damsel in distress. what could you possibly do against the both of them? you think to throw yourself in between the two men as gojo stalks his way over to your brother in three scarily short strides…but your mother quickly wraps her arms around your shoulders and hugs you to her chest — keeping you away from the fight.

your father takes a stance in front of you both — he would interfere, but he’s not as young and as agile as he used to be. he’d get his teeth knocked in if he did.

“stop it! p-please! satoru don’t—!” you screech and wail to him over the commotion of the gathering crowds. he ignores your calls, acting on his free will as satoru’s throws his own punch — another scream tears through the chamber of your chest just from witnessing suguru’s head snap to the side from its power. “suguru!”

“fuck. you, gojo.” your brother slurs, wiping his own bleeding nose on the sleeve of his white shirt.

“fuck you right back, geto.”

you did this. you caused this. if you had just heeded your brother’s advice, he wouldn’t be losing a friend. you wouldn’t be losing someone you loved. you should have stayed away, you should have—

“i should have never trusted you!” comes your brother’s vicious snarl, somehow managing to squirm free of satoru’s grip and using the last of his strength to push the silver haired male to the smooth marble.

satoru doesn’t move, just barely managing to protect his head from the fall. he’s still bleeding, light headed but powered by his desire to protect you. kill for you. “i know! but we couldn’t help it! it just happened!”

suguru turns to you. “did he take advantage of you? ever? how long has this been a thing?”

“n-no! never! s-satoru would never!” you gulp back a choked sob, hoping to put an end to the madness. stop the shattered glass and the people staring and the punches being thrown. you’re a terrible liar, geto knows that. he can see right through your thinly veiled lies — satoru isn’t the type to just want someone. it comes with a price, the pieces of your heart worth more than gold to your brother. of course… at first it had been that way, satoru took what he wanted. but nowadays it feels different. feels like more.

“t-two years. it was…it was all me. i-im the one who said i liked him first. i always have.” you continue slowly, hoping for the smallest twinkle of mercy in geto’s eyes. “please sugu…please. this… this is enough. just leave him alone. i’ll never talk to him again just…stop.”

throughout your whole speech, tears and all, suguru remains towering over your boyfriend with both of their chests heaving, both of their shirts ripped and bloody. you think, for a moment, he might leave it at that — suguru will take your hand, lead you out of the restaurant and that’ll be it. satoru will be spared and you’ll have sacrificed your feelings for him to save their friendship.

however, the tears that drip down the apples if your cheeks and streak through your makeup aren’t enough. they’re not enough to provide a barrier to gojo’s selfishness — even at his lowest, quite literally (lying weakly underneath suguru), he still thinks he can have it all. both you and his friend.

“t-that shit’s not true. she was a game to me at first—“ he begins to say, causing hurt to flash across your chest and for you to fall to your knees despite being in your mother’s unsteady grip.

he doesn’t get to finish for geto takes the opportunity to straddle gojo — unleashing hit after hit on him like a meteor shower of pain. you don’t think he’ll stop until his knuckles are split.

“suguru! s-stop it!” you cry.

people scream just like you but don’t interfere. you don’t even care that they’re staring, you don’t care what they think, all you care about are their well-being.

to your relief, satoru finds an interval — latching onto his ‘ex’ best friend’s wrists with the last of his energy, effectively stopping him from landing anymore punches. “c-christ suguru, let me fucking finish,” satoru gargles on the blood pooling in his perfect, chatty mouth — using his grasp on suguru to push him into sitting on the floor too. “maybe if you did, you wouldn’t have missed this part,” the older of the two, gojo, spits the nasty mix of spit and blood at the younger’s feet — using a second to regain his breath. he spares a second to look at you, shaking on your knees desperate to touch him and see if he’s okay. you don’t know. you still don’t know just how much satoru gojo is willing to sacrifice for you. you have no idea how much he loves you. so he says it. profoundly and loudly.

“… missed the part where i fell in love with her. hard and fast. couldn’t even tell i was falling.”

geto slumps back on his knees, dropping his bruised and cut up knuckles between them with defeat. your entire body sags in relief, until you’re a mess of crumpled clothes, bones and tears.

he’s never told you that before. that he loves you.

“god, satoru…fuck!” suguru exclaims, clearly exasperated. his rage has simmered to a stop, with only angst and anguish filling the air in his lungs. he’s realised now what this means. he’ll never look at you or the satoru the same. the two people he loves most on this god forsaken earth. “she’s my little sister!”

he sounds like he’s about to cry.

“i know.”

“you watched her grow up! we grew up together!”

“i know.”

“you’re five years older than her!”

“i know, goddamn it!” satoru finally breaks the loop, his voice heavy with pain and exhaustion. “but i love her and i can’t help that. neither of us can.”

in the moment of silence that passes, where the audience calms down and suguru steps away from a bloody and beaten satoru — you rush to his side, sliding across the marble floor in your pretty dress to help your lover sit up properly. suguru looks down at you in desolation, his brows creased in the centre of his forehead unhappily. the expression makes you hug gojo’s head to your shoulder tightly in your own protective stance — crimson bleeding across blue fabric like ink in water, forming a hollow shade of purple.

“she’s my little sister…” geto repeats solemnly, as if he’s watching your child-like innocence fade away in real time. he’s been looking out for you for so long that he’s failed to see what an adult you’ve become. it doesn’t make the betrayal hurt any less, though. “she’s…she’s still a kid.” he adds, swallowing the lump in his throat. “and now you’re fucking her?”

satoru shakes his head, easing himself from your grip as though to show you that he’s strong. strong enough for the both of you. “it’s not like that, and she’s not a kid anymore. she’s twenty two, suguru! she doesn’t need you watching over her like some fucking hawk anymore. she can fuck me or whoever the fuck she wants.”

and even though satoru is right — you hate that they both talk about you as if you’re not even there or autonomous enough to defend yourself.

“but you know better.” geto goes on, his own defence becoming weaker and weaker — disintegrating like paper in water.

“we both do!” finally finding your voice, you stand up from your position on the floor cradling satoru and move to stand in front of your brother — grabbing his hands with pleading doe eyes and tears on your cheeks. “w-we’re both adults who made the mistake of getting involved with each other behind your back. but we don’t have to fight this out like children…please just give us a chance, sugu. talk to him. talk to me. y-your little sister…”

geto sags again, he looks tired, but accepts your affection without a trace of doubt or hatred. he thumbs the backs of your hands, dark obsidian eyes gazing into your soul like a galaxy of black holes. your deep chocolatey eyes are met with a stare full of trust and admiration — something familiar, something that fills you with temporary relief.

you like to think that you know suguru geto.

he’s the smartest and most rational man you’ve ever met. your brother has always been kind and tender, takes the time to really listen to people and think things through step by step. he never acts on instinct or brashness. those are all things you know about him.

you like to think that your older sibling knows you too.

that he would look at you and see your truth, how much you care for gojo and how you didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt.

clearly, neither of you know each other as well as you once thought.

he sees gojo from over your shoulder, and the same sense of white hot betrayal washes over the dark haired man like an acid bath. he rips his hands away from yours as if he’s touched molten lava and you’ve scalded the palms of his hands in which he used to love you, care for you and raise you.

a pained sound gargles in your throat as geto pulls away from you — his own mature, handsome face, equally as distraught. “i can’t,” he mumbles quietly. “not right now. i’m sorry.” his warmth is gone before you know it and he’s grabbing his belongings from your dinner table, bowing in apology to guests and staff and your parents.

“suguru!” you gasp, tears stinging at your eyes once again. “suguru wait!”

geto presses his thick, black leather wallet to your mother’s chest as he passes your parents, his suit coat half slung over his shoulder. “use the black card to cover the bill for dinner and pay for the meals of the families who’s tables we destroyed. i’ll take care of any damages too — the owner was a client of mine.” he tells her softly, kissing her forehead.

“suguru— your sister!”

he doesn’t turn back as he pushes his way through the crowd in order to reach the exit. “she’s old enough to look after herself, right?”

“suguru please.”

you will yourself to chase after him, every cell in your body screaming at you to move while your heart and mind long for you to stay by satoru’s side.

you’re conflicted, you don’t know who to choose.

and maybe it’s satoru’s selfishness, maybe he’s the one to blame for the rift in yours and suguru’s relationship — because when he succumbs to the bleeding and the injuries, and someone aside from you screams for an ambulance, you can’t bring yourself to leave him.

like a bird in a cage, you’re trapped by satoru’s love.

or perhaps he was just taking advantage of your weak little heart like always.

being at home is supposed to bring you comfort, there’s nothing like it.

your home is like a safe, full of precious memories locked away with a key that only you possess. if you push through the door you’re met with a gust of nostalgia — the sounds of childlike laughter as undertones to scolding parental voices. as you drift down the halls there’s works of art made with crayola ink on the walls, and sometimes there’s tears in that one little spot at the top of your stairs.

spices from your favourite home cooked meal burning on the stove top usually waft throughout the place, calming you down and filling you with warmth. you can’t remember a time where the smells and aromatics of your home have failed to bring you back down to earth. they trigger waves of fondness and flashbulb memories of your father teaching you and suguru as siblings how to cook whenever your mother fell ill.

your home not only hosts heartfelt conversations between four people who love each other, but it speaks too. it would creak and groan and squeak with every step you took deeper inside, with each time you ran through it while being chased by your brother.

every single one of these moments, these sounds and scents they’re all part of a precious network that make up the foundation of your home. plaster made of love and bricks born from happiness, all glued together by layers of forgiveness in the form of concrete. it’s a house full of happiness, your home is. made by your parents, suguru and you.

but right now you feel as if the roof of your home has caved in.

you’ve been sitting outside of suguru’s bedroom for hours now. your pretty dress soaked in blood and your face in your own tears. you can hear him on the other side of the door — he’s talking to someone, no doubt looking for last minute flights or begging for one of his client’s private jets. and you’re terrified because if he leaves like this you might never speak to one another again.

you don’t want that, you can’t have that.

you wonder where he might go — if it’ll be some place you always planned to visit together when you were old enough. a trip abroad was something geto had promised you if you graduated. now here you were. graduated but without your big brother by your side. Paris, London, New York — all places you were meant to explore with your eldest sibling by your side.

though at this very moment, he was all the way on the other side of a door he had no intention of opening.

it’s like the entire world has collapsed and caved in on you — there’s a hole starting to form in your heart that only suguru can fill and until today, as he begins to pull away from you, you hadn’t realised how much space in your life he had occupied. you leaned heavily on your brother, he shielded you from experiences like this time and time again, and all you could do in return is fuck his best friend.

some grateful little sister you are.

your face burns with a fresh set of tears, hot at the centre and underneath the fat of your eye bags. you’re so dependent on him, you wonder how you’ll cope when you move cities and start a real life outside of the shelter your brother had worked so hard to build for you. the very idea makes your insides twist and stomach turn. you’re not even sure if geto will want to keep in touch with you once either of you are gone.

leaning against his door, you paw at your wet face — hoping and praying that he’ll hear you out. that he won’t leave you, because without suguru you have no one.

wait… that’s not true.

there’s still satoru. if he even wants you after all of this. if you even want him.

why is it that he chose this way to confess his love for you? why is it that he dragged you away from a family dinner to fuck you instead of just being honest? why was satoru so selfish?

he hurt you over and over again — left mental scars on you and treated them like open wounds, adding salt and citrus and whatever would sting just to make sure you kept on needing him and only him. he hurt you to make sure you loved him back and you’re sure he had no idea. there’s an underlying guilt coursing through the blood in your system — guilt in letting satoru take all of the blame for falling out with suguru. especially when he defended you against your brother’s switch up and acidic, toxic words. especially when he’s posted up in a hospital bed for his battle wounds — split lip, possible concussion, bruised eye sockets.

your white haired lover had tried to be brave for you when you’d left him at the hospital to come home and change. there was terror evident in each dark blue fleck in his baby blue eyes, anxiety wrapping around his heart at the idea of you just leaving him there. he thought you would be leaving him forever.

fuck. gojo was good to you, in so many bad ways. you wished that you’d never met him, that you’d never fallen for him either.

before your mind is fully able to slip away to your lover boy, the door to suguru’s bedroom clicks open softly — forcing you to scoot away from him so that he has room to step out. neither of you move — frozen in time like marble statues carved millennia ago. you look a mess and suguru looks like a clean slate. where your dress is blood and snot stained, your makeup smeared and eyes puffy — your older brother has been washed free of tonight’s grime, his cuts are plastered over and his knuckles bandaged. not a single dark, obsidian tendril of his hair is out of place either — perfectly tied back into his signature bun.

most importantly, there’s not a trace of bitterness on his face — almost as if the events of tonight never even happened.

as if you never ruined his friendship with gojo or ruined his perception of you — his little sister.

yet, there’s a glum sort of gleam to his dark eyes, he’s tired — he’s been thinking too hard, going through every step over and over again trying to piece together what he missed. why would you hide this from him? you hate how lost suguru looks. that you did this to him too.

he doesn’t want to fight, not with you. not after satoru.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper, shifting to sit on your knees in front of him — as if you’re about to bow for geto’s forgiveness. “i should have never… i didn’t mean to—“ you pick at stray pieces of skin by the bed of your nails, flailing for words as you slip under the surface of your painstaking emotions. “i’m…i’m…”

geto crouches down to your height, using one hand to wipe the tears from your big bambi eyes and another to tilt your chin up towards him gently. “sorry.” he finishes for you, flashing you his classic, loving smile. “it’s okay…just give me time.”

you nod shortly, your features twitching as you fight back the urge to cry again.

the older male clicks his tongue and shakes his head, the pad of his thumb swiping under your eyes gently. “oh no, none of that, don’t cry for me.” as always, suguru comforts you and tends to you like a flower in need of nurture. “i’m sorry too, little one.”

“a-are you leaving?”

“for a little while.”

your face crumples once again. “suguru—“ comes your childish huff as he stands — but before the elder geto can get very far, you latch onto his wrist in one last clingy attempt.

suguru shakes his head one more time, more vigorously as if he’s trying to get rid of his own tears — knowing that if he lets you continue and beg him to stay, he won’t have the chance he needs to heal. “i can’t. i need time,” your brother says firmly, almost as if he’s scolding you. “you can’t expect me to get over it just like that. it’s not fair.”

you’re fully aware of that, selfishly choosing to ignore the fact — just like satoru would. life isn’t fair, so you suppose this is life’s own way of punishing you for hurting your brother and causing him grief.

“sugu, please don’t go.”

“give me a few weeks, a few months even, and i’ll come back. i promise.” he sighs in response, practically begging you at this point. it kills him to leave his younger sibling just as much as it kills you to see him go. however, every time suguru lays his eyes upon you, all he feels is betrayal and loss. all he can see is his best friend’s hands ruining you. corrupting you. it almost makes suguru resent you, for taking a bite of an apple from the snake he’d warned you about. hating you is the last thing suguru wants. “i can do that for you because you’re my little sister. because i love you and deep down, you’re everything to me. but i just need to get over this first.”

it’s because you’re his little sister that he’s even able to look at you. if you were anyone else, if you were satoru, dinner would have been it.

“‘m sorry,” you whimper for the millionth time, in defeat, weakly allowing suguru to help you onto your feet. every fibre of your being tingles with the need to hug him, soothe him in the ways he would do for you — though you know better. that’s not what he needs right now. geto needs you to let him go.

“i know,” geto hums sadly. he tucks your braids behind your ear, thumbing your cheek affectionately “you should go to bed, it’s getting late.”

he presses a lingering kiss into the baby hairs on the crown of your head as he softly grips your arms — using them to rotate you both until his back is to the door and yours is to the looming hallway.

“goodnight,” you sniff meaningfully. a nostalgic feeling rushes over you, a sense of déjà vu — reminding you of the time when suguru first left for college.

suguru smiles again, disappearing into his room with a whispered. “goodnight, little one.”

and with that, he’s gone.

you only hope that he’ll make good on his promise, forgive you and come back.

because as the saying goes — if you love someone let them go.

and if they come back to you, then they’re yours.

after a hot shower, you find yourself taking heed of suguru’s advice and retreat back to the confines of your bedroom.

childlike walls covered in ugly green no longer make you laugh or provide you with an uplifting and evocative solace. instead, you feel more cold and alone, desperate to leave this life behind and move on to bigger and better things.

things that suguru had helped you to achieve.

while the scalding hot water had washed away any bloody stains from the night, any tears left on your cheeks — it did nothing to get rid of the slimy, gross feeling that you couldn’t seem to reach. it spread underneath the surface of your skin like wildfire through a forest, over each crack and crevice in your mind, slipped through the gaps in your rib cage to target your lungs like a respiratory attack. it was the shame, the guilt and the grief for someone you’d lost who was still alive. all three emotions plagued you.

once safely behind your own bedroom door, shutting out your feelings about the night (after only half of them had swirled down the drain), you rest against its wooden frame — watching the droplets that were clinging to your supple skin drop to the ground as if they were the tears you didn’t feel like crying anymore.

the towel around your exhausted frame drops to your ankles as you lethargically search your dresser for your favourite cocoa butter moisturiser. you work in silence, soothing the night’s wounds as you prepare for bed like your bother had said. you slip on a set of pyjamas, tie your braids back with silk scrunchies and just as you hit the lights — there’s a knock at your window.

you don’t move, waiting to see if it’s your imagination or your mind playing tricks on you again.

but then, there’s another dull thud and you whip around from your dresser to meet a pair of clear-sky blue eyes that catch light under the shining moon does enough to illuminate every curve and slope to his dainty features. gojo looks a little compared to when you left him in the hospital — whatever fluids they’ve given him have helped with the hollow, purple-ish dark circles under his eyes. a few cuts still litter the angelic curve to satoru’s face,

clutching the centre of your chest from under your sweatshirt (in an attempt to calm your beating heart) — you rush towards the source of the noise, tugging the latches of your window open. “satoru,” you breathe, your entire body going lax once you realise who it is.

“hey you,” he grins, holding onto the upper body panel of the window while he waits for your permission to come in. even though your room is dark, painted with tendrils of pitch black, the silvering moon does enough to highlight each cut or slash across his pretty face. “missed you.”

slowly, you reach out to touch him. a single fingertip slides across gojo’s sharp jaw, so sharp that it could cut diamonds, before you angle his head from side to side — inspecting the injuries that hardly do anything to dampen his beauty.

“can i come inside?” gojo asks cautiously. “it’s kinda cold out here.”

blinking, you snap out of your reverie and shift backwards on your bed to make space for satoru to come through. he crawls into your room quietly like he’s done many times before, sneaking over to see you during your breaks from university, and shuts the window behind him.

the both of you stand still in the dark, hardly able to see each other, hardly able to tell what the other is thinking. satoru wonders if you hate him, if this is it for you and he. should he touch you? would you let him?

and as for you, you’re stuck between a rock and hard place. your body, as always, calls for gojo — yearns to be near him as if you haven’t seen one another in a millennia. you know that he’s right there, you can hear his shallow and ragged breathing (probably from climbing up to your window) just centimetres away. he’s done so much to hurt you, ruin you… and yet you can’t seem to resist him or stay away from him when you know that you should.

“i figured you’d want this back, that’s why i came.” gojo mumbles, dangling the chain of your necklace in front of you. you reach out to take it and your boyfriend lets go, but the jewellery hits the ground and you ignore it’s metallic clatter.

“satoru gojo…” you whimper, instead, taking a step forward into the void — your hands touch on his tiny waist before travelling upwards over his creased button up shirt to settle at the silver haired man’s broad shoulders. he groans low at the feeling of your nails raking across them from over the fabric, reaching higher to scratch at his scalp through the baby hairs on his neck. even though satoru remains stiff and hesitant at first, it’s an intimate moment, you’re hardly able to see each other while being pressed so close together — desperate and longing. gojo finally relaxes and grabs the fat at your waist, pulling your hips flush against his own.

you stand on your tiptoes and use your grip on his hair to tug gojo down to your height — your lips a breath’s width away from each other. he’s so close that you can feel his breath coast along the seams of your lips.

“what have you done to me?” you finish, whispering.

god, satoru wishes that he knew. he has no idea himself, the kind of power and hold that he has over you. “i don’t fucking know,” he finds himself saying, meeting you the rest of the way as he leans down to capture your mouth in a messy, searing hot kiss. “i don’t wanna know. just let me kiss you.”

“mhm,” you all but whine in reply, wrapping your arms around satoru’s neck as he feverishly licks into the hot, wet cavern of your mouth. he feeds you his moans, one by one, pouring his apologies and unspoken words past your lips and into your soul. gojo can’t speak with your tongue in his mouth, he’s spent all night plagued by thoughts of you — wondering if he’d done the right thing by telling suguru, if he should have kept his mouth shut and his hands off you. if he should have done it properly.

he fucks everything up — especially the things that he loves. gojo wouldn’t be surprised if you were done with his bullshit now. he’d make the most of what you’re willing to give him for the moment.

your lips grow sticky with the layers of spit swapped between you and you can taste him on you. in your mouth, on your tongue. he tastes like cold peppermint and wisps of pink wine. he feels like heaven under your fingers, his hair soft like the feathers of god’s favourite angel. you inhale the hint of his aftershave from his clothes, let it drift over your mind as well. he’s toxic, bad for your lungs like a vape or the chemicals from something else addictive. perhaps you’re smelling gasoline, the kind that satoru uses to start a fire in your lower belly.

you shouldn’t be doing this, not again, not here, not with suguru across the hall about to leave you. but you can’t help it, satoru’s become your everything and you feel that you might not be able to live without him too. “satoru,” your arm shoots to wrap around his neck, hardly allowing the man to pull away from you and breathe. your movements are so fast that gojo stumbles and holds you tighter to catch his balance. though it might be because he’s afraid you’ll disappear. “satoru, satoru, satoru please…”

you’ve no idea what you’re even begging for, just chanting his name between bruising kisses, his tongue sloppily gliding over yours while he fights to pull away from your intoxicating lip locks. “don’t beg, baby,” he grunts hot and heavy, dragging a thumb over your swollen lips. “god, please don’t fuckin’ beg. you have no idea what it does to me.”

“but i need you,” closing your lips around the tip of his thumb, you suck gently and it causes satoru to grow weak in the knees — dizzy from the sensation. “and i love you…”

“fuck, i—“ gojo swallows thickly, watching you like a hawk as you suck on him salaciously. “i’m right here…love you too. now jump for me, baby.” comes his loving command, pulling the digit from the prison of your hot mouth. if he could, he’d take a life sentence to stay between your lips.

following gojo’s lead, you leap upwards into his hold — allowing satoru to grope at your fleshy ass as he hoists you up. a pathetic bleat escapes his saliva laden lips when your thighs wrap securely around his waist, pussy slotting against satoru’s crotch while he carries you to sit on your dresser.

after setting you down, satoru places a palm on the mirror above your head, steadying himself as lust and love for you and only you overwhelms him until he’s nothing but a shaky mess. a man that could be brought to his knees with just one look from you. his head drops to your neck, breath balmy against the surface of your skin, long white lashes tickling you there too.

he grows enchanted by your steady pulse, pulled in my each of your little whimpers. a mop of silver hair descends upon your flesh, the taste buds on satoru’s pink, eager tongue mapping out your taste to commit to memory. he wants to remember your flavour forever — treating this as if it’s the last time he’ll ever touch you.

“you…you asked me what it is that i’ve done to you. ‘n i told you that i… fuck, that i didn’t know,” gojo pants, a rosy blush spreading across the bridge of his nose and cheeks. one “but i can tell you exactly what it is that you do to me...” your lover looks down at you like a man drunk or high, facing an addiction he won’t be able to quit. it does something to you, drags crazed sex hormones from your brain right down to your pulsating clit.

the temperature in the room rises, boiling and bubbling — the particles in the air teaming with so much desire, buzzing around with an equal amount of kinetic energy. “you’ve ruined me,” he mumbles wistfully, a man charmed. gojo leaves a wet trail over your pulse point, slowly sinking his teeth into the area. there’s a gentleness to the way that he leaves his mark on you — panting like a wet dog as he does so. “you make me want to take care of you. you’ve got me so fucked up that i can’t tell what’s up or down….” he moans into the sweltering ambience of the room.

satoru forces himself against you and you gasp, head hitting the mirror because you can feel how hard he is against the crotch of your night shorts. “i want to be your everything,” his selfish tendencies seep through into his actions, love bites gojo works against your neck become more prominent and harsher — as if to get his point across or through your head. he wants you to know how much he wants you. “just like i know that i’m yours.”

it’s true. he is.

the very phrase make your hips buck up into his, a wave of slick pooling between your folds as they catch on the print of gojo’s dick. “f-fuck…” the tail end of your words end in a lost whine, too turned on by gojo’s desperation for you. only you.

“i love you,” he whispers, voice silky smooth while continuing to ravish your neck and collar bones with shades of deep purple and blue. gojo’s large hands sneak down to your waistband to pull your shorts off and on instinct, you do the same — a nagging craving for more of him taking over you once again. “like no one before. dunno why i didn’t say it earlier, don’t know why i didn’t wanna show you off.”

satoru tugs your panties to one side, wedging them behind your swollen pussy lips and exposing your quivering mound to the night air. even though the room is dark, he can still see the glisten of your arousal and whines wildly from deep within his chest at the sight — urging you to yank down his boxers too.

circling your hips up to meet his, the both of you hiss in unison as your leaky, sopping sexes come into contact for the second time that night. it feels right. just having the length of gojo’s heavy shaft nestled between your sticky folds — it’s natural, as if you’re made for one another despite fate not wanting you to be together. his tip spurts early traces of precum against your slit in another form of marking, hot and creamy against you while the scent of sex begins to waft through the air.

it’ll never matter how much you try to resist satoru, for as long as he’s around, you’ll fall into this twisted little routine — a repeat offence of betraying your brother. your nails come up to dig crescent moons into his milky toned and strong arms, gritting your teeth at the pleasure beginning to wash over and drown you. “s-shit baby—“ gojo mewls through a pout, finally giving up on biting and sucking at your neck to rest his sweaty forehead against your own. “just wanna be good to you…wanna be enough for you. p-promise i’ll give my everything just t’be the one takin’ care of you.”

satoru slurs his words but the very promise sounds like a dream for you. it’ll be everything you’ve ever wanted out of the man, all you’ve ever asked for in all these two years of fucking around. to be equals, to be his partner for the world to see. although, a tiny seed of doubt begins to sprout in the back of your mind — you’re not even sure if it’s true, if satoru’s just making empty promises to get you like this, to manipulate you into staying after messing everything up with your brother.

could he take care of you like suguru did? could you trust him to do that?

your jaw goes slack as gojo drags his hips back and forth, back and forth, the pretty blue veins wrapped around his cock running over your clit — stimulating you into a weakened stupor. milky droplets of pre glaze the length of your dripping cunt, satoru rubbing it in the more he grinds into you.

the dance of your bodies is toxic and never ending, the way you rock into each other in perfect harmony causing your dresser to delicately thud against your bedroom walls. “d-do you promise, ‘toru?” you gasp, biting down on your lower lip hard enough to draw blood, as though to stop yourself from crying out loud from the electric current of pleasure he gives you. “y-you have to promise me.”

silvery white brows knit together in the centre of satoru’s forehead, making him look pathetic. his hand forces it’s way between both of your tight and tangled limbs to grab hold of his bright red an, bulbous cockhead and circle it against your pulsating clit — dragging it up and down until it grazes your hole.

he damn near chokes on a glob of spit when you unconsciously clench around him — a loud simper bubbling up on the edge of his pretty pink lips. you’re quick to lean forward, practically slamming a hand over satoru’s eager mouth to keep him quiet.

“p-promise me.” you repeat wetly, panting out the syllables as his dick slots perfectly against your wetness — both of you move with vigour and hushed whimpers and moans, satoru chasing after your soused sex like a hungry animal. you feel like you’re going fucking insane beneath him, watching as his tie to sanity starts to dissolve into thin air just from the way your pissy drips all over him with treacle-like juices.

no one on this earth could make satoru gojo give this up. give you up. not your parents, not his, not your brother. he’d rather die than let another person have you in the way that he does right now, where you rut your hips into his in one fluid motion. even if his heart breaks and his muscles ache — he can’t…he won’t stop giving you his all, won’t stop making you see fucking stars.

a pressure begins to build just above your pelvis — brought forth by gojo bullying your pleasure nub with his sopping dick. it’s obvious how close you’re getting, your puckered hole gushing all over him and clenching on nothing. but it’s not like the man above you is in a better state — you’ve wrecked gojo, sent the man to high heavens and brought him back down to earth all at once. you’ve shown satoru that he’s worthy of being loved, that he’s capable of doing the same. the realisation only adds to the intensity of your sinful movements underneath the watchful eye of the moon.

tears spring to his brilliant blue eyes, another clamorous sob breaking free from your hands over his mouth — making you clasp him tighter. everything is so intense and emotional, pleasure mounting like bricks for both of you. you’re shaky in one another’s hold, sticky against each other while your arousals lube everything up and make the whole ordeal wetter. it really does feel like a crescendo, the highest point of an orchestra’s song — where your bodies are the instruments played by one another.

“satoru,” you repeat his name, warning him, begging him to focus through the thick fog of love, lust and desire clouding his brain.

“i-i—“ gojo chokes down his feelings, slamming his other hand on the dresser behind you to trap you in underneath him — his hips never let up, however, roughly snapping into yours. “i promise. i promise, baby — always will, fuckin’ swear it.” he mumbles under his breath against the palm of your hand.

and that’s all either of you need to hear for the dam to break.

gojo’s rhythm falters, his hips stuttering as he succumbs to you and he hits his high. he lets out a cry of your name so genuine it pulls at your heart strings and you slip under the surface of ecstasy’s ocean — letting it fill your lungs as you cum too. you screw your eyes shut with the white light that blinds you through your orgasm — afraid of what may lie on the other side of this world-ending sensation. you don’t want the reality that awaits you. you don’t want to have to wake up from this little dream you’ve created with satoru.

speaking of, the white haired man collapses over you in a fit of shakes and shivers — ropes of his white seed coating your aching mound. there’s so much for it, all caused by and for you. he doesn’t stop rutting into you, even though it’s sensitive, but wraps his arms around your head just to comfort you through it. hugging you to him while you both come down.

he’s good to you, so good in this moment, but you have no idea if this will translate past tonight.

“can i fuck you?” he asks through ragged breathing. “just a little bit, won’t be long. just wanna make you feel good again, you’re so pretty when you’re moaning and feeling so fucking good on my cock.”

you wince with overstimulation as satoru starts to rub his shaft against you all over again, working it up to another ripe and pulsating erection just for you. earlier, you had wished the night would last a little longer, so you could love him a little harder and here satoru gojo was — making all but one of your dreams come true. “h-hurry,” you whinge into his shoulder, your teeth sinking into the milky flesh as though to keep yourself quiet. “don’t make me wait.”

“never baby, you’re too pretty for me to be patient,” in one fail swoop, satoru nudges his tip inside of you — instantly filling you to the brim with sticky, sloppy cock and drawing a needy gasp from you. “yanno, you’re so cute when you take my dick, such a beautiful baby. no one compares to you.”

you know that he might just be running his mouth to fuck you sweet again, telling you all of the things you want to hear — but you can’t help but want gojo closer and wrap your legs around his waist, using the heels of your feet to push him closer to the point where his cum-covered cockhead is brushing against your womb.

with fluttering eyelashes, your mouth falls into an ‘o’ shape and a silent mewl escapes you — it doesn’t take long for your partner to fall into the perfect pace, fuelled by his desire to make you both cum again and his need to chase the stinging, delicious pain he gets from chasing overstimulation. “d-did you get tighter baby? you’re fuckin’ choking me out here,” satoru grunts against your sweaty hairline, ramming his hips into your clenching cunt that practically squirts a crude mix of your remaining orgasms. “you gonna milk me? make me fill you up again?”

“y-yes! please satoru…don’t stop!” you whine in harmony with his moans as they rise in pitch — higher and higher until they’re whistle tone, scratching tigers marks down his muscled back. the touch drives gojo insane, activating something primal in him to the point where you once again have to cover his mouth with wet kisses. if he didn’t love you, then the simple gesture wouldn’t cause him lose his tether to the real world fucking you like this.

if it was only a touch, why did it ruin him?

juices and thick waves of cum that had once coated your throbbing cunt now slosh over your dresser that dully thuds against your bedroom wall — over and over again the faster gojo’s hips pound into yours. the sound of skin on skin overwhelms all of your senses, you’re stimulated beyond belief and you’re crying from multiple places…it’s almost too much for your poor ravaged body to handle.

“i’ll n-never stop…fuuuck baby, as long as i’ve got you. ‘m never stoppin’…never stoppin’… n-never—“ your man chants, crying into your mouth and the hot lustful buzzing hair between you when grab his ass so that he can fuck you deeper. the slit at his cockhead is overloaded with viscous precum, smearing it along your inner and gushing ribbed walls — claiming your insides for the second time that night.

your hips run from the pleasure that you crave and that satoru gives to you — cross eyed and panting from above you like a wet dog. there’s no need for him to run from you though, you won’t let him, not when he needs to be loved by you. someone who cares for satoru gojo despite all of his mistakes.

a creamy ring begins to form at the base of satoru’s swelling cock, all white and frothy from where he’s been churning your guts up lovingly — pounding his earlier orgasm inside of you as if to make it stick. your clit grinds against his smooth pelvis, dragging you by the ankle to another world-altering orgasm and his balls slap wetly against the curve of your fleshy ass.

satoru adjusts your body against the dresser so that the curve of your spine rests on the table and he’s able to hike your legs over his shoulders so he can bully that one special spot only he can reach. your knees meet your chest, breasts bouncing beneath them from the force of the white haired man’s chest. “g-god, you’re…you’re fucking me too good,” you gargle, hands in his sweaty mass of silver hair as you tug gojo implausibly closer. “i wanna cum…are you there? c-can i cum, ‘toru?”

pressing his forehead to yours, satoru nods feverishly. “right behind you, baby. where do you want it?” there’s a fluid roll to your man’s hips, his cock dipping in and out of your fluttering entrance so fast and so good that you’re sure you’re about to lose consciousness. “how about inside? how ‘bout you lemme leave somethin’ with you?” clear, thick strings tie your clenching pussy to satoru’s cum glazed shaft — glistening under the night’s natural light. you can’t wait for there to be more of him inside you. “touch your clit for me baby, make yourself cum on my dick.”

you do as your told, fumbling between your salt-licked entangled limbs for the little nub between your swollen folds. immediately pressing down on it, you find yourself tightening around gojo while he grinds harshly against your g-spot and moans breathily against your Cupid’s bow since your foreheads are still pressed together.

“s-sa…satoru! ‘m…i’m cumming!” one look at him, completely destroyed by you, is all it takes to send you flying to cloud nine — your stomach lurches and your eyes roll back into the dark depths of your skull as you cum one more time for your lover. clear streams of your essence squirt steadily from your cunt, bathing satoru in your orgasm while you succumb to overstimulation.

his tummy and thighs are doused in your precious liquid as you quietly scream his name — all of these senses serve to trigger his own orgasm. “c’mon, that’s it little one. give it to me, i gotcha. want it all over me,” gojo smirks against your lips, peppering them with soft kisses while he wrecks and bullies your insides in an attempt to cum himself. “oooh, fuck. i love you, i love you, i love you.”

just like he promised, satoru gives you another hot load — failing to stop fucking you through either of your highs. he loses control of his hips, allowing them to languidly and uncoordinatedly rut into you — pushing his seed further up your silken walls until your cunt is covered in a layer of white. there’s so much of it that white drips his balls and inner thighs, as well as down to your puckered asshole. maybe it’s a little crude if him, but satoru’s lengthy fingers gather what you leak and smears it against your lips — kissing you there, sucking your mixed flavours from your eager mouth.

it’s only while you calm down from your orgasms that things start to change…drastically.

even as satoru kisses your hairline and whispers praises against it, rocking you back and forth as you twitch with the aftershocks of your orgasm — the fear comes rushing back.

the post-orgasmic clarity hits.

the tears start flowing once more and you realise that you’re so, so tired of it all.

yellow and artificial light from down the hall seeps through the gap underneath your door, accompanied by footsteps. you’ve no doubt that someone in your home is awake, maybe your mum going for her late night glass of water, your dad for the loo or maybe even suguru. for his flight. the light is glaring and illuminates your room — highlighting the night’s mistake. satoru.

when the footsteps recede and the light dims down, you let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding — your silent tears blooming into quiet hiccups that you have no control over. “h-hey,” he cups your face, wiping at your eyes just like your brother had done before shutting you out. “hey pretty girl, what’s the matter? did i hurt you? was that too much—?”

slicing through gojo’s words, you find the strength to speak even if it hurts to reveal the truth. it’s like ripping off a bandaid, “how do i know that you really mean all this? that you’re going to keep your promise, ‘toru?”

“w-what?”

“i can’t do this!” you snap as loudly as your voice will allow you to. you don’t want to wake anyone else up nor get caught by your brother with your pants down for the man who betrayed his trust. not to mention, nearly getting him to hate you. “you promised to take care of me. just like suguru would, while we were basically having sex — how am i supposed to trust that?” it sounds crazy coming from your mouth, doubting satoru even after the intimate moments that you’ve just shared. however, you’ve been around this block with him too many times, you know the signs off by heart, you’ve memorised the cracks in his resolve as if they’re those in the pavement. the ones people tell you not to step on to avoid bad luck.

you feel unlucky, you feel played and naive. you saw all the warnings and wilfully ignored them because you liked the way satoru loved before he knew the weight of the word. “how am i supposed to trust you?” you add, voice wavering.

satoru can’t seem to find an excuse — maybe because his brain is too fucked out or maybe because he’s shocked that you’re not just blindly trusting him anymore. he always thought things would be easy with you, that this nightmare would be over quick… and you’d take him back just like that. perhaps the dinner was your wake up call. “i don’t… i don’t know, i just…” he selfishly expects you to believe him. “you know me. you love me and i love you, can’t that be enough?”

“you’ve never given me enough, satoru! it’s only now that you’re realising you want me as more than just your… your plaything! when i’m all you have left and suguru is gone with the wind!” you want to push him away but satoru is rooted in front of you, his presence sturdy unlike before. “you say that you love me, and i think i believe it…but it’s so hard to trust you. to not think that this is just an impulse.”

“i’d wanna be with you even if suguru stayed, i always do. it kills me to be away from you!” satoru fires back, scrambling for something…anything that’ll make you see just how badly he means it when he says he loves you and wants you. that it’s not because he’s afraid of being alone. “i fucked this up, with you and with suguru. but i’ve known for a long time that i’ve wanted you, needed you to be mine and more than just a fling!”

you look away, face twisting with pain. “i…i don’t believe that.”

“then let me prove it,” the words rush right out of gojo’s mouth, faster than his brain can catch up — his anxiety spiking at the thought of you abandoning what you have together. abandoning him. “move in with me, come with me. i’ll get us a place in the city where your new job is, i’ll get my dad to transfer me to a closer branch of Gojo Corp… just let me show you how much i want to make this work — even if it means losing suguru.”

satoru grabs your chin and tilts your gaze back over to him — but you can’t even look him in the eye.

instead, your face burns, hot as your vision swims with another wave of tears. “i need your honesty, satoru. no more empty promises, no more false hopes.” he can see it in you now, how exhausted you are with the game of cat and mouse you’ve been playing all this time. you just want to be loved without constraint and satoru comes with so much baggage he’ll only weigh you down when you try to fly from the nest. it wouldn’t be fair. “i need you to choose. would you really give it all up for me? your reputation, your lifestyle, your best friend?”

satoru’s wants to be selfish, desperately so. it’s all he’s ever known. taking and taking until his partner at the time is nothing but a husk of the person they once were. the difference this time is that he actually loves you, cares for you and would kill for you. he’s already taken so much from your youthful bright eyes.

he would hate to take your spark too.

so satoru gojo decides to weigh up his options.

either lose it all and keep you as his or lose you while the wounds he’s inflicted on everyone else heal.

if you love someone, then let them go. if they come back to you, they’re yours.

“then… then i’m sorry. for not being more honest. you’re right in every sense of the word…i can’t give this up,” gojo says simply, watching the light and hope in your eyes die out. “i think it’s best if we end it here and i let you go.”

so reddit, AITA?

UPDATE - AITA (27M) FOR FUCKING MY BEST FRIEND'S (26M) LITTLE SISTER (22F)? hey reddit. long time no see, i got a lot of attention on this post and undoubtedly you all decided that i was the asshole. i’ve done some work on myself and now i see that i was 100% in the wrong. i’ll spare you the boring details, because i know that’s not what you’re here for. i didn't want to leave anyone hanging, so here’s a quick update on where the three of us are at, one year later. i’ll start by saying — we broke up. i made the call so now she’s seeing someone else, and it’s serious.

in another lifetime, satoru would have chosen to be with you.

he’s certain that in another wonderfully weird and wacky universe — nothing would have stopped you from being that happy couple you wanted to be so badly. suguru might have even accepted your relationship, or maybe he would have died and his final wish would have been for the white haired man to make you happy.

that is something satoru will never know. the idea comforts him whenever he’s left alone with his thoughts for a little too long.

however, this isn’t another lifetime. this isn’t a different universe. this is the reality where satoru gojo had broken up with you right after your graduation.

he did it so that he wouldn’t come off as selfish — so that you had a chance to fix things with his ex best friend (and your brother) before it was too late. it was the least he could do after taking advantage of you, corrupting you against all of suguru’s wishes — but that didn’t make gojo any better of a man nor a knight in shining armour. he was still a shifty guy.

still selfish, though, the decision was made with satoru still in mind.

the night he’d broken up with you obviously ended in tears. to you, it was the end of your life — losing your first love, and you couldn’t even be blamed. you were only twenty two, your reaction was justified. suguru had been right in that sense, you were innocent and your heart needed to be protected, satoru had definitely taken advantage of that.

you were kind enough to let your then ex stay the night — as long as he was back in the hospital and gone by the morning. satoru never knew what transpired the next day, as you were quick to block him on everything, and you had every right.

he made his choice and his bed, now he had to lie in it too.

geto did leave, gojo knows that much, having seen his best friend take up work at a law firm in the US. geto had since been low contact with him. as did the rest of your family. again, it was for the best — even if it did hurt and cause gojo to bury himself within his father’s company, working himself to the bone every day just as a distraction.

through the grapevine of CEOs and higher ups, satoru learns that you’ve followed in your brother’s footsteps and made your way over to the land of the free. the magazine you worked for, Heavenly Pact, was getting ready to start an american edition and word had travelled that you were going to be the head of their new office on that side of the pond. gojo was proud, excited for you — you were excelling in your career all on your own, he was glad that he hadn’t ruined that for you too.

being in the states from time to time, satoru often wondered if there would ever be a time where he ran into you. would you be happy to see him? would you even want to talk? what would he even say?

‘i’m sorry for fucking you for fun and fumbling the bag — almost destroying your relationship with your brother when i caught feelings’ wouldn’t exactly fly well with you, he was sure.

it didn’t end up mattering anyways, because when gojo does eventually bump into you during business hours — he almost doesn’t recognise you. he’s in New York for some big, fancy corporate meeting about mergers and acquisitions, whatever his father had put into the file gojo was skim reading on his phone at the last minute, right before making his way up to the conference room.

the elevator taking him there stood about six floors shy of satoru’s destination and a young woman enters like a hurricane — bringing with her a whirlwind of paperwork and notebooks. “i-i’m sorry.” the young woman stutters from behind her pile of belongings, out of breath from seemingly running for the elevator. “could you press the button for my floor? i would do it myself, but…”

there’s a strain in her voice that makes gojo chuckle to himself, reaching past her so that his fingertips brush over the cool and luminous buttons for each floor. “are you going up?”

“down actually… you?”

“up ‘m afraid, but headed to the top floor. so this elevator’s probably going to head straight down to wherever you need to be afterwards.” he offers up apologetically. he swears the tonation to her voice sounds familiar, it’s soft and sugarcoated notes stirring up a warm feeling in gojo’s tummy.

“that’s fine by me, i’m running ahead of schedule anyway. floor eleven for me, please.”

gojo does as he’s told, pressing the button for the eleventh floor — he has to reach past the woman in order to do so. his vigilant blue eyes catch a glimpse of the fashion photography stacked in her arms amongst sketches and other designs while the scent of her perfume strikes a dizzying recognition within the white haired man. undertones of vanilla with subtle floral scents make gojo’s stomach turn and light bulb memories of those precious two years flash behind tired cerulean eyes.

he knows you, he thinks, all too well.

he says your name under his breath as though he’s keeping a secret and you freeze — no longer sorting through the papers flying about the place. when you look up and your eyes meet, you feel like the world has stopped spinning and that it’s just the two of you, frozen in time.

“satoru,” you breathe and quite plainly, as if you’re holding back any emotion you feel towards your ex…but then you smile, and it’s so vibrant satoru feels like he might go blind. not a trace of resentment in those big, beautiful brown eyes. “it’s been a while.”

you’ve changed a lot in only a year. while your face still holds its youthful innocence, except your eyes reflect growth and maturity — perhaps a little bit of exhaustion from how hard you’ve been working on your new job. you’re still as beautiful as the day gojo left you, but perhaps even more so. your light glows instead of dulls, most likely because you’re free. he’s no longer holding you back with a jail sentence of his selfishness. you’ve been able to live your life properly, just as someone your age should.

it would be wrong for him to interfere with your newfound happiness.

turning on his heel, satoru faces forward and avoids your gaze — continually repeating the mantra ‘she’d be better off without you.’ to stop himself from reaching out and touching you like he so desperately wants to. he misses you, that much is a fact, but that doesn’t mean he no longer craves to be with you, breathe you in, be by our side.

satoru had let you go three-hundred and sixty-five days ago with the hopes of you coming back to him.

maybe this was it.

you don’t take kindly to being ignored, leaning forward with your papers and files tucked securely against your chest in order to garner his attention. satoru adjusts his dress shirt, plays with his cuffs, inspects his surroundings — anything to avoid you and make a fool out of himself. or worse, mess everything up for you. his therapist had called his previous and past behaviours a self-destructive tornado — destroying everything in its path without regard.

he couldn’t go back to that.

“gojo, don’t pretend like i don’t exist,” you pout in annoyance — reminding your ex all too much of the times you spent together at your dorms. “i see you and you see me. we’re adults, surely you can handle a conversation.” it’s your teasing tone that finally makes gojo cave, sparing you a starry, blue eyed glance.

he can’t help the cocky chuckle that escapes him, almost slipping back into his old and familiar ways with you. “you wanna talk to me that bad, huh? did you miss me or somethin’?” it’s a condescending and patronising thing to say — almost as if he’s treating you like a child.

that makes you stand up right, heat rising to your cheeks at the familiar feeling — you’re not mad though. “i see you’re still as full of yourself as ever.”

it’s satoru’s turn to pout this time, shifting his focus to a corner of the rising elevator . “h-hey! i’m working on it!” you’ve never seen him so nervous, not in your entire life of knowing him…but you suppose a lot can change in a year. you’re sure he’s different, just like you are. “yanno…therapy ‘n stuff. it helps. helped.”

“oh yeah?” you hum curiously, knowing that he’s making reference to your break up, losing suguru. you don’t dare to press further, though. “me too.” the pair of you fall silent for a moment, sitting with the unaddressed awkwardness, the tension and unresolved feelings. “how…how are you? how’s things?”

he’s surprised that you’ve even asked, let alone want to talk to him after everything he’d put you through. it’s weird but also clear that you’d been working on healing too — what’s a conversation between two adults then? “good,” satoru starts, though he’s being far from honest. he misses you. “i’ve been working to finally take over dad’s company. old man’s retiring, so i thought i’d play my part and be responsible for once.”

you grin warmly at the news. “it sounds like you’re doing well, toru.” he nearly jumps at the familiar nickname, choosing not to respond. “not that you asked, but i’m kind of in the same boat? they’re putting me at a deputy manager’s position for my magazine’s new branch. i’m excited.”

“i’ve heard,” the words rush from satoru’s mouth before he can stop them, feeling sheepish as you raise a brow at him. “not that i’ve been stalking you or anything! you hear things when you’re at the top!”

“yeah, sure.” you tease, enjoying watching gojo squirm.

a question he’s not sure he’s allowed to ask sits on the tip of his tongue and satoru pushes it around in his mouth hesitantly. “how…how’s suguru?”

you perk up, tentatively choosing what to say next. “o-oh…he’s good? we’re…our relationship is better now. it took a lot of work, but he’s healthy and happy. i… i think he misses you sometimes but, he’s still not ready yet.”

gojo nods once and chooses not to press about his ex best friend further. “and how are you?”

“m-me? i thought we’d just went over that—“

your ex turns to face you fully, a pleading look on his face that shocks you out of your casual stance. you can still see how much he adores you and cares for you, as if it never left his nature to want the best for you.

“are you happy?”

he asks the loaded question like it’s easy to answer and you do have to think about it. are you happy? you’ve been putting in the work to feel like that again, after breaking it off with satoru you were low. almost rock bottom. it was your first ever break up and it hit hard — not to mention you didn’t have your older brother to fall back on at the time. you knew it was time to stop depending on others, it was time to grow your own spine. you took to therapy, you learned your triggers and icks and red flags. it took time and patience with yourself, but here you were, a year later and a little happier than when you saw satoru last.

“yeah,” you confirm with a shy nod, taking interest in your feet while you hide your smile. “i’m happy. with myself, my work and my partner—“

partner?

“—you’re dating someone?” gojo quips as the elevator dings for the floor just before his.

“ahh yes! it’s still new but… he makes me happy. yuuta okkotsu, you might have seen him around? i hear his family’s company and yours have done some work together.” you seem bashful as you talk about yuuta, someone you met through work, someone your age. a sense of pride in being together taking over you. you show him off and boast about him in a way that you wished gojo would have done for you.

the revelation nearly kills satoru — it’s like a bullet to the chest or a knife to his heart. envy bleeds from the open wound, pours down his front and taints his blood stream. it fucking hurts to know that you’ve moved on to someone who treats you better than he ever could…but you deserve it. you were so good to him and to the world that it would seem like a crime for you to end up with someone who didn’t love and appreciate you in the ways that they should.

that doesn’t make him feel any better though, it makes him feel as though he might die.

when the elevator reaches the gojo’s floor — he falters in stepping out without saying goodbye or replying to you. he would be doing it to hurt you, and to be spiteful or petty. just like back then.

there’s still so much that he wants to say to you — so many things he wants to fix but he can’t shake the feeling that this was it. this was closure for the both of you.

as he exits, he whirls around with enough time to spare before the doors close on you, and this chapter of both of your lives — just catching your bewildered expression. “thank you, for everything,” gojo calls to you fondly, watching your previous expressions morph into something soft and appreciative. “i…i really did love you, and if i could go back and do those two years over again. i’d be better, for you. i’d love you, properly.”

the doors to the elevator slowly begin to close and satoru steps forward at the same time as you — it feels like you’re sharing one last goodbye.

“i know,” you say without a trace of malice, a wistfulness in your voice. “i’m thankful to have been with you, because you taught me so much in such little time. i’d do it again, if we were better.”

a sad smile tugs at the corner’s of gojo’s pink lips. “in another life?”

“in another life.” you confirm, mirroring his smile as the elevator finally seals itself shut — leaving him with his reflection on it’s cool, metal doors.

it’s a shame that you only have one life, and that there aren’t any do overs. that way, everyone could live a life without regret — because gojo has his regrets, where he wishes that he loved you better, harder, more…so that you’d come back to him and you would be his.

always.

so redditors and other losers lurking on this thread. that’s my update. i already know a lot of you are going to say that i deserve this — and i do. but i’m happy for her, for both of them and i wish them both all the best. whaddya say, am i still the asshole?

END.

9K notes · View notes

heesdreamer · 8 months ago

Text

FIRST SUMMER

PAIRING ➩ heeseung x reader

SUMMARY ➩ you and your bestfriends brother (possibly your mortal enemy) are both given the task of renovating your childhood lake house during the final summer before it’s sold

WARNINGS ➩ light smut, heeseung and reader aren’t super nice to each other most the time

WC ➩ 14.5k

AUTHORS NOTE ➩ Well.. officially out of retirement with this one I hope! I started this august of last year and abandoned it during my hiatus so picking up where I left off was a bit difficult and I apologize for any changes in writing styles. This isn’t my favorite thing I’ve written but I hope you guys enjoy it, thank you always for waiting for me. NOT PROOFREAD NO PART 2

You wondered if Lee Heeseung had been put on this earth for the sole purpose of making your life more difficult.

He’d probably argue this assumption with the fact he had been born before you, his main reasoning behind his many claims that you were the one copying him and making his life a living hell and not the other way around. He was a measly two years older than you but never failed to bring it up and use it against you.

Heeseung had been in your life for as long as you could remember and you absolutely never got along.

It wasn’t a big issue at first considering you were kids and had no real need to be around each other. The playgrounds were big enough for the both of you and your parents saw no reason to force a connection between the two of you, despite the fact you were neighbors and the two pairs of adults actually got along quite well.

Similarly to you and Heeseung’s little sister, a small girl who was born in the same year as you but nearly your polar opposite in personality. At first you’d been hesitant when she started to show up to play with the older boy, knowing him by now as the enemy and assuming she was going to be just as wicked and terrible. It only took watching her push him down onto wood chips once for you to decide to be her best friend.

The boy had scowled from his place on the ground, grumpily picking pieces of the wood from the fabric of his sweater and watching the two of you run off together towards the swings.

He’d failed to understand the power of your friendship in that moment and now 15 years later he was still paying the price, stuck with the two of you constantly. You and Jiwoo almost seemed more like siblings than they did, attached at the hip and never going too long without talking to each other.

Which is why it was all the more annoying that you and Heeseung could never seem to get along, reverting right back to being two kids arguing on the playground every time you saw each other, which was quite often. You’d practically moved into the Lee’s house next door during high school and you were even a frequent guest on their family vacations, their mom booking a place with an extra bed for you before she even asked if you were available.

You weren’t exactly sure why the two of you didn’t get along. He was nice enough to other people and sometimes he cracked jokes that nearly made you laugh, only nearly. For some reason he just brought out a terrible side of you that you didn’t really understand and you were certain you did the same for him.

It was easier now that you were out of school and entering adulthood, not having any major reasons to constantly see each other and his parents didn’t have to force him to drive you and Jiwoo around places now that you had your own cars.

He was definitely still around though and you were trying your best to act civilly despite that inner part of you always preparing for an argument to break out between you.

Especially right now considering the fact he kept kicking your leg underneath the table at the restaurant both your families were eating together at. The Lee’s cousin was in town and you’d always been particularly interested in him, being a total sucker for an accent and a good beach tan.

You sent a glare to your right in Heeseung’s direction when he kicked you for the third time and jammed your heel against the bone in his leg, ignoring the grunt of pain he let out as he bent slightly forward to grab onto his shin. His mom sent him a concerned glance before remembering who he was sitting next to and rolling her eyes as she looked away from the two of you.

You were watching Jake as he talked animatedly about his life guarding job back in his hometown, leaning forward and resting your chin on your palm to show your interest despite the fact you weren’t fully listening.

It was difficult to considering the constant distraction sitting beside you, another kick being sent to the leg of your chair so you jolted slightly to the side. You whipped your head around to look at him again, immediately replacing your interested and awed look with one of hatred and disgust.

“What the hell is your problem?” You were spitting at him in a low whisper, grateful the table was big enough that the others weren’t really paying attention to you. Although they had to have expected an argument eventually considering they sat the two of you together, breaking an unspoken rule that had been built up throughout the years.

“Stop trying to seduce my cousin.” He was spitting back and his eyebrows were pulled down tight in a sharp glare, keeping eye contact with you in an attempt to intimidate you.

“Mind your own business.” Your response was quick and tight, slightly embarrassed he’d caught you staring but too angry to care.

You turned back to try and focus in on the conversation again but now you were suddenly overly aware of the fact Heeseung was sitting next to you and watching what you were doing, looking for any opportunity to tease you and start up an argument. You sighed softly and leaned back in your chair with crossed arms, keeping a scowl on your face and letting the dinner pass by without speaking again.

“You know, I figured the two of you would eventually start getting along once you became adults.” Your mothers tone was laced with lighthearted disappointment after the dinner, walking ahead of you on the rock path leading up to your front door.

You could hear your father laughing softly in front of her at the idea of your life long feud being laid to rest, a frown instinctively coming up on your face at their inside joke.

Glancing over to the side, looking past the small stretch of grass that separated your pathway from the Lee’s, you saw Heeseung sporting a similar dejected expression and you wondered for a second if he was hearing the same lecture you’d been getting after dinners for as long as you can remember. Then he was looking over towards you and meeting your gaze in the low light of the summer sun setting, eyes immediately hardening into a glare that you quickly returned.

It was hard not to think about it later on in bed, eyes trained on the old plastic stars on your ceiling that didn’t glow anymore. Your hands were folded on your stomach and you were tapping your thumbs softly on the smooth skin in contemplation.

Sometimes, although you’d rather die than admit it to anyone, you also didn’t understand why you and Heeseung didn’t just stop fighting.

He was kind to Jiwoo in a way that always made you envy having siblings and despite his constant teasing he never declined driving her places or picking up food for her when she didn’t feel like going out. And he was even kinder to your parents, treating them like his own and having manners enough for the three of you growing up.

It was like you were dealing with a completely different person, him falling into that same angry glare the moment you’d step into a room. Sometimes he’d be mid story with a group of friends, being charming and funny as he recanted something and exaggerated moments to get a few more chuckles. You’d watch from a far for a bit and then slowly approach and every single time he’d pause for a moment, looking completely thrown off by your arrival, and then tensing up and losing track of what he was saying.

Your presence just seemed to bug him and as the two of you got older it affected you more. You didn’t mind the fact he wouldn’t play with you when you were kids, never dwelled over him saying you had cooties or getting dirt on your favorite stuffed animals.

But the fact he still continued to hate you as you aged and matured, settling into your respective personalities and lives, you couldn’t help but be offended he disliked you so much.

“He’s just weird.” Jiwoo had explained to you once when you were both seventeen, sprawled out on her bed and flipping through a magazine as she addressed you. “You shouldn’t think too deeply about it.”

Heeseung had just graduated high school and you’d all attended the ceremony, both families getting reserved seats per his request.

It had actually gone well for once, he didn’t seem upset that you were there and he had even hugged you alongside your parents when he came off the stage and your mother handed him a bouquet of celebratory flowers. Mrs. Lee had shot you a surprised glance and then a supportive thumbs up and you gave her a soft smile in return, figuring he was just so excited to have graduated that he was managing to tolerate you being there.

The Lee’s had taken advantage of the fact your backyards combined into each other, no fencing between them, and the two pairs of parents had decorated the space for a small party for the older boy.

You were excited to go, especially since Heeseung hadn’t demanded an explanation for your invitation, and you even managed to make some good amount of conversation with a few of his friends.

The conversation was swiftly interrupted when you felt a hand wrapped around the middle of your arm, tugging you a few inches backwards to get your attention. You whipped around to see who it was and you were met with an angry looking Heeseung, looking more familiar to you than the smiley version of him you’d seen earlier.

“Why are you talking to my friends?” His voice was accusatory like you’d done something wrong and he sounded so upset that for a second you felt like you had.

Your mouth had parted in confusion, fumbling for words and coming up short from the shock of his sudden confrontation and also the embarrassment of the situation considering he wasn’t exactly being subtle with his anger and the boy behind you could definitely hear every word he was saying.

“Chill out Hee, we were just making simple conversation.” Jay proved you right by speaking from over your shoulder but you didn’t bother looking at him, keeping your eyes locked on Heeseung and wincing softly at the way his face hardened at his friend defending you. “Cmon man, I know better than to-“

“Do you know better? Because it doesn’t seem like it.” Heeseung was cutting him off at the same time he was removing his gaze from yours, breaking you slightly out of the worried spell you were under as he looked at his friend from over your shoulder.

You weren’t exactly sure what they were talking about but you assumed Heeseung had warned his friends against speaking to you. It took you back a bit, despite knowing he didn’t like you.

The two of you definitely didn’t get along but you were still very close regardless if you liked it or not and you spent a lot of time together, so it hurt you more than you expected it to that he hated you enough to actively try and keep his friends from interacting with you, enough to the point he’d embarrass you and cause a scene at the sight of it.

“Hee I’m sorry.” His eyes snapped back down towards you at the sound of your quiet voice, completely out of character for you to not be fighting back or making a snarky remark.

It seemed to throw him off enough that his anger faltered for a second, looking concerned for a moment as he stared down at you before his jaw was tightening again and his face hardened back up.

You weren’t sure why you didn’t bother to snap back at him, if it was from the embarrassment of being ripped out of a conversation and scolded like a dog who’d gotten into the trash or if it was actual disappointment at his behavior despite the fact you definitely should’ve been used to it.

“I think you should head home. Parties almost over anyways.” He was eventually saying and it was directed towards you although his eyes had dragged back over your shoulder to look at Jay.

You figured he had looked away because he was feeling slightly guilty for embarrassing you and not being fought back in return, or maybe he was disgusted with you and didn’t want to look at you.

Still, his tone wasn’t as angry anymore although just as hard and stern, and you nodded softly before stepping sideways out from between the two tall boys. You knew he was lying about the party being over soon but it had ended for you anyways and you had no issue leaving it and going to the safety of your bedroom.

Jiwoo had caught the end of the encounter and caught up with you as you speedily walked away from the boys who had started to angrily murmur at each other, hence leading to the conversation about her brother in your bedroom and her explaining he was just being weird.

“Jay is a total playboy though, you should steer clear of him.” Her nose was curling up in disgust as she made the casual comment but a small pout formed on your face, wondering if Heeseung thought you were going to hookup with his friend and that’s why he was extra aggressive about it.

Eventually you let it pass from your mind to become just another bullet point in the long list of things Heeseung had done to show you he truly disliked you.

It was a lot easier to start to dislike him back, easier to fight with him and snap insults rather than get confused and sad about why he treated you so differently. So your routine was set in stone even deeper and neither of you ever faltered, not during birthdays or relative weddings or even your own graduation two years later.

So it wasn’t exactly an easy thing to handle when your parents and the Lee’s were sitting you all down to explain that your family lake house was going to be sold at the end of the summer.

“Wait why would you ever sell it?” Jiwoo was blurting out before they got the chance to explain and you had a permanent frown on your face as you waited to hear their response.

You watched your dad and Mr. Lee exchange a heavy but meaningful look, like there was something they’d already discussed amongst themselves in regards of how to tell you. You were sat on the left of Jiwoo, Heeseung on her right and for some reason you had to resist the urge to lean forward and see what his expression was.

“We’ve decided, now that you three are all grown up, it was just time. We figured we’d use the money to travel during the summer or save towards retirement.”

It made sense as your dad started to speak but you felt a weird clenching in your stomach at the thought of not having the lake house to go to anymore.

Realistically he was completely right and you’d started to neglect the yearly trips out there, taking them for granted and not appreciating the time you got to spend at the house. You didn’t even go at all the last two years, finding yourself too caught up with things so unimportant you don’t even remember them now.

The lake house was a tradition that was instilled before any of you were even born, a collaborative effort of your parents to try and bring some fun and adventure to your summers since you grew up so close to the city.

“So it’s just gone?” Heeseung was speaking for the first time since the meeting was called and you were surprised to hear how thick his voice was with upset, clearly more affected by the breaking news than you and his sister. You caved to the urge and leaned forward a bit to try and get a look at him but Jiwoo shot you a sideways glance and you quickly sat back in place.

“Well not exactly.” Mrs. Lee’s voice was soft as always and you watched as she reached across the small space between the seven of you and gently rubbed her sons knee, giving him a soft smile and an encouraging nod. “We will have one last summer with it, mostly for renovations before the new owners come to look at it.”

You knew exactly what she was talking about when she said renovations, hearing your dad complain about the rotting in the deck and the holes in the inside walls for years now but never making the time to fix them.

But you weren’t fully understanding what they had planned for the three of you yet and you wished you had in that moment so maybe you could have come up with an excuse faster. They explained to you softly, attempting to lessen the blow, that you would have to go and stay at the lake house for a few weeks and fix up the place to make it look brand new for the new owners.

You weren’t at all against getting to be up there one last time, breathing in the clear air and having campfires on the sand, but you definitely didn’t want to sign up to spend your summer doing free manual labor.

Your parents left no room for argument and you could see the prepared disappointment on their faces so you offered no reason for it to escape, hesitantly agreeing with the plan and waiting to hear what the siblings next to you had to say about it. Jiwoo was stiff beside you and staring forward at the ground like she was in deep thought, a bad feeling washing over you at her expression.

She proved your suspicions right when she started to explain in a meek voice that she had already made plans for the first month of summer, having completely booked and paid for a vacation near the sea.

Her eyes shifted towards you as she told your parents this and you immediately furrowed your eyebrows in annoyance, knowing right away she was lying and making up an excuse so she didn’t have to come with you until the second half of summer and by then the house would be mostly finished already.

To make matters worse, you didn’t even process the fact Heeseung would definitely not decline considering how much he loved the lake house and that would leave the two of you alone up there.

He seemed to piece it together a few seconds before you did and you saw the realization settle over your parents faces too.

“Woah woah wait, there’s no way I’m going with just her.” He was quick to shut down the idea, sitting up straighter and shaking his head dramatically.

You didn’t say anything in response surprisingly despite the fact everybody in the room tensed up in anticipation for a fight to break out between the two of you. You were a bit dazed from the news of losing a big piece of your childhood and you were also just tired from the day over all, already knowing Heeseung was going to reject before he’d even opened his mouth to do so.

Mr. Lee was sighing and beginning to lecture his son on being an adult and putting your differences aside for something this important but Mrs. Lee was silent and giving you a curious look that you were too afraid to try and decipher.

Eventually it was decided that the two of you would either suck it up and go to the lake house together and work on it without killing each other or you’d face the wrath of four disappointed parents. You didn’t say much about the agreement either although Heeseung had plenty of comments to make and Jiwoo was finding the entire situation pretty hilarious from an outside view.

It had been about an hour since the family meeting and you were still in the Lee’s house, leaning your hip against the counter in the kitchen and mindlessly peeling some potatoes for the stew their mother was making for dinner.

The air was hot and dry like it always was during the beginning of summer, not bothering to creep up anymore and instead it just seemed like one day it was cold and the next you could barely sleep without waking up in a puddle of sweat.

You could hear the bugs outside from the open window, loud and alive with excitement for the new season and the breeze was just barely cooling off your damp skin. Normally this would bring you the same feeling summer always did, a lightness in your chest and a heavy sense of nostalgia everywhere you went.

It wasn’t hard to guess what was dampening your mood and leaving you feeling a bit shut off, the source of the weird emotions just a staircase away upstairs in his room playing video games.

Mrs. Lee was walking into the kitchen and pausing when she saw you although you only met her eyes for a split second before quickly focusing back in on your peeling and chopping. She cleared her throat softly and came over towards where you were leaning on the counter, placing down some lettuce and starting to chop besides you.

“Something put out your fire tonight?” She was asking it casually and her voice was as soft as ever but you immediately understood what she was implying.

You glanced at her from the side of your eye before shaking your head. Mrs. Lee had a certain aura about her that always made you feel like a little kid again, vulnerable and sensitive. As much as you loved your own mother, you always envied your neighbors for having her so close growing up.

“Sometimes it just isn’t worth the argument.” Your words weren’t the least bit convincing considering how forced they sounded coming from your mouth, paired with the fact you’d never once backed down from an argument and they all seemed to be worth it to you up until this point.

You could hear her take a deep self calming breath and your hands froze where they were chopping slowly, bracing yourself for whatever she was planning to say next.

“He means well honey he just… isn’t sure how to get through to you.” She somehow sounded as certain as she did hesitant and you could feel her gentle hand patting the side of your arm softly, leaving you with your poorly sliced vegetables and dimmed fire.

——

Throughout the entire process of packing your bags and mentally preparing yourself to head up to the lake house, you’d completely forgotten the fact you’d have to ride with him the entire five hour car ride there and then back again once it was all over.

He definitely didn’t seem to miss this fact considering he was standing outside leaning against the car with a nasty scowl when you came out, dragging your suitcase behind you and nearly tripping over the step off the porch from its wobbling weight. Your mother was trailing behind to say goodbye but not offering much help when it came to loading up your stuff.

Heeseung luckily didn’t say anything to you when you were approaching, greeting your mom with a gentle but annoyed good morning and staying on the side of the vehicle when you started to attempt to load your stuff inside the trunk.

After a few groans of annoyance slipped out of you, due to the fact your bags kept tipping over back out towards you and refusing to stay still in the neat tower of things Heeseung had packed for himself, he was sighing and making his way back towards you.

You glared at him when he circled around the car, not in the mood to be berated or rushed so early in the morning, especially right before you were stuck in a car together for the entire first half of the day. Your harsh facial expression faltered a bit when he was rolling his eyes and tugging your suitcase out of your grip.

“Just go and get in the car already, you take too long.” He was spitting it at you and harshly side eyeing you before starting to load your stuff up but you didn’t bother to argue considering the gesture was nice enough if you ignored the attitude he always carried.

“Well that was sweet of him.” Your mother was whispering the words to you in a dreamy voice, nudging you softly with her elbow and eyeing Heeseung through the windows.

You paused and glared at her in confusion, a dumbfounded expression and a sneaking suspicion starting to arise considering how weird both her and Mrs. Lee have been acting in regards to the two of you and your complicated, but mostly aggressive, relationship.

“Are you kidding me?” You settled on a bewildered statement instead of grilling her about her weirdness, knowing she wouldn’t give you an answer anyways.

She had given you a shrug that you assumed was noncommittal and then hugged you tight, tighter than she’d ever had and you tensed up a bit at the embrace.

You’d gotten into the passenger seat of the car and tried not to think about how weird the dramatic send off was, tried to focus yourself on keeping calm and not letting Heeseung get to you too early on in your time being forced together. You weren’t exactly sure why you were trying to be the bigger person lately but you chalked it up to being exhausted with the back and forth.

“You’d think she was sending you off to war.” He’d made the comment as he put the car into drive and you glanced over at him, staring at the side of his face, both confused and relieved by the fact he had noticed your moms weird attitude.

“She might as well be.” You didn’t mean to sound so snippy but it was your default setting when replying to him and he didn’t seem to mind the tone, chuckling dryly under his breath and shaking his head in annoyance before focusing in on the road.

He didn’t attempt to talk to you again for another hour or two and you were grateful for the silence, giving you another opportunity at being less confrontational. It definitely wasn’t for his benefit or to be kinder to him, you just didn’t want to constantly be exhausting your energy with the effort it took to keep up with whatever set him off.

Eventually he was pulling off of the main highway and turning into a gas station that was almost completely barren, stuck in one of those sections of a road trip that was basically just fields followed by more fields.

He was getting out of the car and shifting through his pockets for his wallet before sighing and glancing at you in the passenger seat, watching him from the corner of your eye so it didn’t seem like you were staring.

“Want anything to eat or drink?” He was asking in that familiar reluctant tone he always had with you and for a second you wanted to snap at him and decline his offer, tell him to just hurry up and get what he needed so you could get back on the road.

You took a small breath instead to steady your emotions before nodding. “Yeah I’ll just… I’ll take a-“

“I know what you want.” He was cutting you off and closing the car door before you could say anything else, leaving you with parted lips and annoyance starting to simmer in the lowest part of your stomach.

You scoffed even though he wasn’t around to hear it and leaned back in your seat, crossing your arms and scowling as you waited for him to return. You highly doubted he knew what you would get from a gas station, knowing he never paid attention to you or your interest outside of finding something to fight about and it just aggravated you further that he would go as far as to ask like he cared just to not let you answer.

He didn’t take long in the gas station luckily or else you’d overthink too much and be on the verge of exploding, sniffing slightly when he slid back into his seat and passed the bag with the snacks in it.

You paused for a second to glare at him before you were taking a look into the plastic and pausing when you spotted your favorite drink and a snack you commonly ate whenever you were stressed out or particularly craving something, mixed in with things you knew he enjoyed.

“What?” He was asking from the drivers seat and he sounded weirdly awkward underneath the familiar attitude. “Is it not right or something?”

“No it’s… it’s right.” You cleared your throat and nodded softly, sitting back in your seat and closing the snack bag after you grabbed what you wanted out of it and balanced it on your lap. “Thanks.”

“Yeah whatever.” It was muttered in his low tone but you caught it anyways, finding it almost as weird as the fact you had thanked him. He was finally starting the car and starting to pull out of the gas station much to your relief and you focused back on looking out the passenger window.

The heat was reaching the point where the low quality AC in the car wasn’t doing much to cool either of you down and once he rolled his window down instead, you took the silent cue to do the same to yours.

It was still pretty dry in the air and the sweat was really starting to make you itch and worsen your mood so you were hesitantly unbuckling your seatbelt so you could sit up more in your spot and pull your sweater over your head, leaving you in just a tank top and you sighed softly in relief as the air immediately cooled down the wetness of your sweaty arms.

You could feel Heeseung’s stare from your left and you glanced at him with furrowed eyebrows, rolling your eyes when he quickly scowled in return before snapping his gaze back onto the road.

It was pretty quiet for the rest of the drive, Heeseung playing the same music you often heard coming from his bedroom or his headphones when you were forced to sit close to each other in a car so you were actually able to recognize them and sing along.

Neither of you said much even when getting out of the car and starting to bring your things in, exchanging quick glares when you reached for the same bag or got in each others way but for the most part you were too relieved to finally be back somewhere that always caused your stress to melt away.

This time wasn’t any different and you took a second before you went inside with your things to take a deep breath, letting the fresh air fill your lungs and listening to the sounds of the water against the shore just off in the distance.

You couldn’t see the lake from the driveway as clearly as you could from the other side of the house where the deck was located but it was just one of those places where you could actually feel the difference in the air and the atmosphere.

“Can you hurry up? There’s plenty of time to stop and do nothing later.” Heeseung was griping at you as he passed by with another load of bags and you scowled at his back, completely removed from the peaceful moment you’d been having.

You decided to just leave it be and finish unpacking, flopping onto your back on your designated bed and panting slightly from the effort mixed with the heat once you were completely finished. Your phone had been abandoned against the span of your stomach but when it started to vibrate, you immediately knew who it was.

“So how’s it going? Have you killed my brother yet?” Jiwoo’s amused voice did nothing but amuse you further although you were struck by how much you missed her teasing.

You could hear the sounds of waves in the distance through her side of the phone, envy settling deep into your gut despite the fact you were also near water. The small lake was a lot different compared to the endless sea she was currently vacationing at, having a nice time with people who cared about her versus you being stuck with her older brother who couldn’t bother even being kind to you.

“We surprisingly haven’t really fought yet.” It came out of your mouth in a hefty sigh and you absentmindedly played with the string of your pajama shorts, pressing the phone tighter against your ear. “Think he’s downstairs getting ready for dinner.”

“Are you going to eat with him then or just hide out in our childhood bedroom?” She was asking it like it was a question but you both knew the answer already, the same accusatory tone that she always had heavy in her voice underneath the knowing smile you could practically see in front of you. “He’d probably secretly like it if you ate with him you know, I always did figure he had a crush on you.”

An automatic eye roll came over you at the sound of her baseless teasing. She often made jokes about Heeseung secretly liking you growing up, coming to the conclusion that was the reason he was always so harsh towards you.

You’d told her countless times that that was absolutely ridiculous and there was no way Heeseung liked you, let alone that he was the type of person who thought being mean to somebody was going to get them to like him back. You had seen the types of girls Heeseung brought home occasionally and he definitely knew better than to resort to elementary school level flirting methods.

She was eventually hanging up once one of her friends started to call her name, inviting her to come and swim with them.

You laid in bed for a while after the call went silent, feeling struck again with that weird lonely and nostalgic emotion that you couldn’t quite understand. It wasn’t normally this silent in the lake house, typically filled with doors opening and closing and the sounds of your mothers rushing around the kitchen as they cooked and your fathers cleaned.

As much as you didn’t want to, you couldn’t help but wonder if Heeseung was feeling just as weird about the whole situation as you, if he was downstairs just as lonely and unnerved by the fact it was only the two of you this summer and then nobody ever again. Your mind stuck on that thought process when you started to smell food drifting its way up the stairs and going straight to your empty stomach.

You’d planned to avoid the older boy as much as you could, especially during the first few days, but you were beyond hungry by now and you couldn’t help yourself from standing out of the bed and making your way downstairs.

He didn’t notice you for a few seconds when you first hit the bottom step, watching him for a beat as he casually moved around the kitchen and diverted his attention to three different pots and pans. He was listening to music again, something low playing from the old radio that sat in the lake house year round, and you realized how often you associated him with something soft playing.

You were completely ripped from your thought process when he was turning around and letting out a loud shriek when he saw you standing at the bottom of the stairs, dropping the bowl that was in his hands and doing a little scared hop.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He was spitting out and your mouth parted in surprise, not expecting such an extreme reaction or how loud it suddenly got. “Why are you just standing there like a weirdo?”

“What? I was not, I was just..” You started to defend yourself loudly but gave up midway and let out an annoyed grunt, knowing he wasn’t exactly wrong about what you were doing and you didn’t necessarily have an explanation. “I was just coming to see what you were cooking dickhead.”

He stared at you for a few seconds with a look on his face that you didn’t really understand before he was stepping to the side and revealing the plate with a handful of burgers on it.

You looked at it before you were meeting his stare and a weird feeling passed through you while holding his gaze, not something you often did- especially not willingly. He had cooked enough for the both of you despite his attitude when you’d came down and you weren’t sure if it was intentional or just habit but the act struck you.

The two of you ended up sitting at the table and eating in awkward silence, directly across from him but feeling like he was miles away considering he hadn’t even acknowledged you being in the room once.

You couldn’t help but be hyper aware of the fact you were very rarely alone with Heeseung and this was about as alone as any two people could possibly be. He was a lot less defensive when it was just the two of you and if you didn’t know any better you’d say he almost seemed shy, making you think about the jokes Jiwoo often made.

It’s not like Heeseung was at all ugly, you’d never stoop low enough to make fun of him for something that was so clearly not true.

Especially within the last year or two, he’d completely changed both in build and confidence and you were extremely glad you didn’t have to be around him as much as you did growing up. You disliked him as a human being but you were still a person in reality and he was almost unnaturally attractive.

“Why are you staring at me again?” His voice was low across the table, speaking in an awkward mumble as he started to push what was left of his food around with his fork.

You didn’t bother denying the fact you were watching him even though you hadn’t really realized you were doing it, completely zoned out again. You figured your time in the house together was already going to be awkward no matter what so you might as well ask him what you were thinking about. “Jiwoo says you have a crush on me.”

He completely tensed up for just a split second before he was quickly switching his demeanor and letting out a heavy scoff like he found you ridiculous. You caught the small reaction and your interest peaked, sensing an opportunity to get under his skin.

“Jiwoo also watches too many romance movies.” He was quickly disregarding what you had said with a casual and bored tone but you could tell that he was clenching his fork a little tighter, avoiding looking up from his plate all together.

“So you’ve never once found me attractive?” It rolled off your tongue easily, like you were asking him something as simple as to pass the mashed potatoes, but you gave him a knowing glance from under your eyelashes.

He finally looked up at you once you said this and he seemed taken back by the way you were watching him, the expression on his face telling you he thought you were absolutely crazy for even asking this.

“What? Are you kidding me, of course I haven’t.” He was quick to deny it and you could tell he was getting irritated, hand tightening around his silverware and that familiar clench of his jaw showcasing how much your questions were bothering him. You couldn’t tell if it was because he felt embarrassed or disgusted.

You let out a soft hum of understanding and let the silence sit for a few breaths, watching as he slightly relaxed under the assumption you were done saying weird things.

“I think you’re attractive.” He had been mid bite when you finally spoke again and his body lurched forward almost like he was choking, covering his mouth when he coughed and quickly taking a sip of water to try and force down whatever he had put into his mouth before you nearly killed him.

After he calmed down he was shaking his head at you again although not looking at you, staring down at his plate like he was thinking deeply about something and for a minute you wondered if he was going to take the bait like always or if he was going to just brush you off, making your stay much more awkward.

“My sister put you up to this?” His voice was stone cold now and he clearly was slowly losing his resolve, similarly to you considering what he said had completely thrown you off.

What did Jiwoo have to do with any of this and why would he automatically think that?

“No.” You shrugged like it was a casual conversation but your heart was beating a bit faster now, sensing genuine anger from him and not just annoyance. “I just don’t see the point in lying just because we don’t like each other.”

“You think I’m attractive?” His eyebrow was quirking up now and he was narrowing his eyes, leaning forward in his seat.

He’d finally put down his fork and stopped pretending to be focusing on the food he had barely eaten, elbows on the table and his full attention on you as he waited for you to reaffirm what you had said so confidently a few seconds ago.

The confidence had definitely left your body as soon as you’d said it and actually got his attention, feeling similarly to how you did when he embarrassed you at his party despite the fact the two of you were alone.

Very alone.

Still, you held strong and pushed through the conversation and if your stomach turned at his head tilt when you gave him a small quick nod, you’d pretend it didn’t. There was no going back now and you weren’t sure what direction this scenario was heading towards.

On one hand, you knew Heeseung had to be lying. You definitely weren’t unattractive and he clearly had eyes, ones that settled on you more times than you’d wished you had noticed so he wasn’t oblivious to this fact either regardless if he wanted to pretend he was. He was a teenage boy at one point and you were prancing around his house in short skirts and bathing suits.

And on the other hand, you didn’t think it necessarily mattered.

If Heeseung found you attractive he didn’t have to say it and this would be the ultimate time to completely embarrass you, humiliate even. If he rejected you here, you’d never live it down and he’d forever hold this over you as the time he utterly destroyed your ego in one fell swoop. Plus a large part of you was hoping he wasn’t planning to do that anyways even though you weren’t exactly sure what you wanted out of this.

You had hated the boy across from you for as long as you’ve known the power of the emotion and you’d never let him and his tall build and cute hair distract you from this fact.

But you also weren’t stuck seeing him everyday now. He didn’t live at home and you rarely came around unless you were forced beyond what you could deny so the stakes were a lot less high if he reciprocated what you were saying right now.

“You’re going to have to say it.” His low commanding tone was enough to stop you from overthinking the fact this was a bad idea, an absolutely terrible idea.

It was also enough for you to shift in your chair uncomfortably so you could better squeeze your legs together, watching the way Heeseung’s eyes darkened at the movement even though there was no way he could see what you were doing underneath the table.

“I think you’re attractive Hee, don’t be weird about it.” You were pulling yourself together and standing from your seat then, completely popping the bubble of tension that had started to suffocate you.

He didn’t say anything, thankfully not correcting you on the fact you had definitely been the one who made things weird, but he watched you with a heavy expression as you hurriedly cleaned your plate and disappeared up the stairs with quick footsteps.

——

You were coming to terms with an unmeasurable amount of regret now that a few hours had passed.

The bed had become your official moping place and you stuffed your face so far into the pillow you could barely catch your breath, possibly a self punishment for your humiliating behavior. You’d given up on attempting to sleep and you couldn’t rely on Jiwoo to entertain you considering she was probably busy and you were fearful you’d slip up and confess your sins to her the second she answered.

How do you explain that you’d nearly, just barely, flirted with her brother?

If you could even call it that considering the fact he looked like he was just on the verge of throwing his plate at you the entire time. Still, it had been weird and far too bold on your part and you were strongly regretting your life decisions up until this point.

Eventually you decided that sleep was useless and not coming anytime soon and you might as well make use of the fact you were at the lake house, suddenly remembering the hot tub that was placed around the side of the large deck. It didn’t take long for you to change into your swimsuit and start to head outside but you froze up right outside the slider door.

Considering how cruel the universe had been up to this point, you should’ve expected the fact that Heeseung was already occupying the small pool of water.

You were just starting to take a step backwards with the plan to retreat back upstairs and change again into your pajamas when you decided against it, taking a deep heavy breath before pulling the door open and simultaneously alerting the boy of your presence.

He was nearly all the way in the bubbling water but you could tell he was shirtless, something you’d normally be unaffected by if it wasn’t for the conversation you had. The steam from the hot water mixing with the cold night air was covering his face for the most part but you could see him enough to tell his face had hardened at the sight of you.

His gaze was locked on you for the duration of your walk towards the tub, stopping right outside of it and taking another subtle breath to try to calm yourself down.

“Mind if I join you?” Your voice was rougher than you wanted to be, nearly giving up the fact you were affected by the awkward tensioned air and the way he was watching you still.

He made it worse by not responding out loud, giving you a subtle nod of his head that made your heart rate increase. Still you were following through with the initial goal and climbing over the side of the tub before settling down into the hot water, letting out a sigh of relief and sinking into it until only the tip of your shoulders were above the surface.

Heeseung was still watching you and you were avoiding looking at his side completely, although that didn’t help much considering you could feel his stare on you.

“I’m sorry for making shit weird.”

Well apparently your mouth was planning on getting things out of the way before your brain was.

You looked up just in time to see him cock a brow in your direction, an expression on his face you couldn’t read and you almost groaned in annoyance from how calm he was being about the entire thing. You kept waiting for him to lash out at you and yell about your weirdness, maybe even call your parents and demand Jiwoo came instead of you.

“I don’t think it’s weird.” Instead he was saying this and shifting so his arms were resting on the back of the tub, lifting his torso out of the water more and giving you a better view of the wet streaks going down his neck and past his adams apple. “Unless you didn’t mean it.”

“I meant it.” Your voice was coming out rushed and your eyes were widening a bit, mentally cursing yourself for being so eager to reassure him.

He hummed softly like he had earlier and your stomach flipped again with nerves.

It wasn’t missing you that this was completely out of character for you and totally ironic but you were only human and as much as you disliked him as a person, you couldn’t deny how good he looked with damp hair and his tan skin lit up by the LED’s of the hot tub. He was sexy and always had been despite how much you wished that wasn’t true, and now you were alone.

So you tried to ignore your long history with him as you shifted through the water so you were closer to his side, only a quarter of the way to him now instead of being directly across from you.

He watched you silently for a few beats before he was scoffing and shaking his head like he was judging you, causing your eyebrows to furrow tightly as you stopped moving closer to him.

“What?” You felt embarrassed suddenly at your assumption and prepared yourself for him to make fun of you again, scold you for ever thinking he’d want you closer to him just because he hadn’t made you feel weird about your admission.

“Nothing. I just should have known you liked me.” He was laughing to himself slightly like it was the funniest thing in the world, not at all discouraged by the glare you were sending him. “You totally followed me around all the time, plus you always had that look in your eyes.”

“I do not have a look.” You hissed at him with a sharp voice and this seemed to amuse him even further. “And I never said I liked you don’t be stupid, I just think you’re hot.”

His eyebrows raised up high and his eyes widened in amusement, catching your slip of the tongue as you aggressively spat the words at him. “Oh see you said attractive, didn’t know you found me hot too.”

He was clearly having fun with the whole embarrassing situation and you gave up quickly, leaning against the back of the tub behind you and frowning with your arms crossed under the water in front of you. You stared ahead of you at the bubbles and tried to tune out his low chuckles.

“Don’t get pissy about it.” His voice was filtering over the running jets again and you glanced at him from the side of your eye, surprised to see something that slightly resembled guilt on his face. “If it makes you feel any better… I think you’re hot too.”

This made the corner of your lips turn up into a small smile,something very rarely ever sent in his direction from you. You turned your body to face him again and leaned forward with interest.

“So you lied earlier.” Your voice was more excited than you wished it was but you didn’t fully care, sitting up on your knees a bit. His gaze was dropping down to your chest before meeting your eyes again, losing all traces of humor now that more of your skin was visible.

“Yeah. I lied.” He confirmed in a lower tone and your smile fell slightly, suddenly nervous again. You were used to how he was acting a few seconds ago, making fun of you and feeling angry and embarrassed around him but this was a side of him you had no history with outside of watching him flirt with girls at parties Jiwoo forced him to bring you both along to.

That didn’t stop your body from naturally moving closer to him, drifting along the bench until you were right beside him and you could feel his thigh pressed up against your knee.

Your mouth was parted softly to try to keep breathing around the hot steam and his eyes were seemingly transfixed on it, watching your lips as you wet them instinctively and remaining on them even when your tongue was slipping back into your mouth. You could feel his breath on your face and it struck you that you’d never been this close to him before.

His face was leveled with yours for once since you were still perched up on your knees and he was sitting normally, minimizing the usually very apparent height difference.

He hadn’t touched you or even moved at all but you could feel his skin next to yours and you were hyper aware of his every movement, the subtle rise and fall of his built chest and the way his throat moved with every deep inhale he took. He seemed to be showing some restraint and that made you shift impatiently, teetering towards him until your shoulder was brushing against his.

His eyes shut tightly for a second when he felt your bare skin touching his, mumbling something under his breath before he was looking at you again.

This time his gaze was going all around your face instead of just focusing on your lips, even dropping back down to your bare shoulders and the way your wet hair was sticking to the skin of your neck. He scanned down past your chest to where the rest of your span of skin disappeared under the water.

“Hee.” Your voice was breathy as you finally spoke and instead of cutting the tense moment, it only worsened it and you felt your thighs pressing together again like they had at the dinner table. This time he could clearly see the movement past the bubbles and he stiffened a bit. “Can you touch me Hee?”

You watched him tense even more at the sound of your whiny voice using his nickname, one you didn’t say nearly as much as your friends and family.

He didn’t reject you even though you were starting to think he might considering how restricted he look, instead he was lifting his hand out from under the water and cupping it around your jaw softly. You could feel his thumb rubbing along your cheek, the water from his arm rolling down your neck and disappearing back into the pool of it.

It was almost embarrassing how much it affected you to be touched by him so intimately and the urge to kiss him was too overwhelming, a dizziness settling in from both the heat and the longing sitting harshly in your stomach.

You were so close to each other that you could feel his lips brushing against yours, not quite kissing considering he was rocking softly backwards every few breaths and holding your face tightly so you couldn’t surge forward and get it over with.

Heeseung definitely wasn’t letting go of his habit of teasing you but this felt particularly cruel and prolonged.

“That what you want? Want me to touch you?” His tone was meaner than you expected it to be but you didn’t exactly mind, at all apparently considering the shiver it sent down your back. He was clearly making fun of you and your desperation but if he touched you, you knew you wouldn’t be able to find it in yourself to care.

So you took a deep shaky breath and nodded your head as much as you could while he still held your face, moving your hand so it was touching his bare knee.

Your action took him off guard enough that he lessened his grip for a split second but it was long enough for you to lean forward and press your lips against his for just a second, barely feeling them on yours before he was pushing you back again and your hand was impatiently squeezing his knee.

Another embarrassing whine came from deep in your throat and his eyes flashed with something for a second before he let out another soft hum.

“Can’t do that baby.” He was so close that his lips pressed against yours as he spoke and you completely froze up once his words made sense to your lust dazed brain, just barely processing his rejection before he was letting go of your face and leaning away from you.

You did nothing but watch him in horrified shock as he stood out of the water and left the hot tub, weirdly calm even when your gaze was locking on his bare torso.

He was leaving casually like he hadn’t just did the worst thing you could possibly imagine and you felt hot wet tears of anger spreading rising quickly, completely humiliated and swiftly reminded on why you hated Lee Heeseung so much.

——

As the days continued passing with awkward avoidance on both of your ends, you were struck with the fact that maybe you didn’t hate him as much as you always thought you did.

You’d actually admired Heeseung at points considering he was the oldest out of the three of you and continuously setting a good example despite all the pressure. Some nights you’d leave a heated argument with him and head back inside your own home, laying on your bed with a racing heart and a scowl fixed in your features.

Then you’d hear the strumming of his guitar coming from his house, window wide open and directly across from yours.

The first few times you’d put in your headphones or let out an annoyed shriek as you slammed yours shut, trying your best to tune him out and erase his existence from your mind ; out of sight out of mind.

Eventually you got tired of pretending you weren’t impressed by how smoothly the chords carried over to you, how swiftly he must be moving his hands to produce something so soft and gentle. You’d let it carry you to sleep and for a moment you felt like you were experiencing something together.

You were more naive then, tricked into thinking he ever cared about you enough to even know you were listening, childish and stupid to possibly hope he might’ve been playing for you.

Some sort of apology.

He never was and he made that very clear to you and eventually your embarrassment and shame turned to hide behind anger. It was easier to fight with him, to scream and yell, than to admit that he was hurting your feelings and lowering your ego everytime he treated you so harshly.

The entire situation was extremely frustrating and annoying, almost (but not quite) as annoying as the continuous banging happening directly under your head for the past hours.

With a loud groan, you were getting out of bed and deciding to end your moping abruptly, heading downstairs to see what the workers Heeseung had hired were doing that made that much noise. You slowed your steps as you descended down the stairs, realizing there was a lot more men in your second home than you’d originally expected and they were all moving around at a fast and busy pace.

You’d just barely managed to dodge one of them, carrying a large amount of… something, as you reached the bottom step but in your attempt to move out of the way you were running into an abandoned tool box and spiraling in the other direction.

Your eyes had squeezed shut and your body tensed bracing for an impact that never came, instead feeling yourself smack into someone’s strong and sturdy frame.

“You alright?” You quickly shot open your eyelids to see who it was you’d fallen into, turning red in the face at the concerned look the man holding you was sending down in your direction, still holding you softly and giving your arms a slight squeeze like he was trying to get you to focus.

He watched as you nodded your head softly with wide eyes, helping you steady yourself back on your feet but still holding onto your upper arms like he was worried you’d fall again.

You took the opportunity to scan over his body and your face flushed a bit more at the sheer size of the man and his extremely toned arms, looking away quickly to focus on his feet between yours instead. Heeseung was definitely a large guy too and nearly towered over you but you imagined he’d look tiny in comparison to the one in front of you.

“You sure you’re okay? You look a little red.” He was speaking again in a soft voice that directly opposed his look and you snapped out of your random thoughts about Heeseung.

“I’m okay I promise.” You were nodding quickly and giving him a soft smile, hoping you were convincing enough to make him believe you definitely didn’t need any type of medical attention just because you’d tripped over a box. “Just startled me a little. Thanks for catching me….”

You trailed off while watching him and it took him a few seconds to understand what you were looking for, a bright smile on his face once he realized and filled in the gaps. “Namjoon.”

“Well thank you Namjoon.” His name was rolling off your tongue smoothly and his smile suddenly looked a lot more like a smirk making you a lot more aware of the fact he was still holding onto your arms and standing close to you.

He didn’t get a chance to reply considering the loud sound of someone aggressively clearing their throat was coming from next to the two of you, both your heads turning to see who it was and it was almost comical the way you froze up in sync with each other.

“Shouldn’t you be getting back to work now Kim?” Heeseung’s tone was stiff but you could feel the underlying threat in his words and the man across from you definitely could considering he was immediately letting go of you and taking a few rushed steps backwards, mumbling a goodbye to you before he was disappearing into the kitchen to find a task to complete.

Your shoulders slumped at the interruption but your heart was beating fast looking at Heeseung next to you, recognizing the expression on his face even though it was subtle.

He was absolutely furious, the type of anger that typically caused you to end arguments early or completely stay out of his way. When he got like this you knew it wasn’t the time to poke fun at him or start up any banter, his entire aura becoming a lot darker and less forgiving.

You’d fought with him like this a few times, realizing a little too late that he was in one of his moods and it was those times that he had said the worst things. Things that made the family and friends around you gasp even though they were used to your rivalry, things that caused tears to spring to your eyes as you stormed off to a different room.

“Let’s go.” He was saying it calmly but you felt a chill run over you as he stared at you with fury and disgust, reluctantly following behind him as he left the main living space and entered a small hallway just next to it.

You hadn’t even gotten the chance to explain before he was abruptly turning around and facing you, taking a few harsh steps in your direction until you were backing up and slamming into the wall behind you. Your eyes widened in surprise and slight fear, not understanding why he was suddenly cornering you.

Heeseung moved forward until he was pressing against your body and now your emotions were abruptly changing as you realized what was happening, a wave of heat rushing through you at the feeling of his front leaning onto you.

You were slightly embarrassed he most likely could feel how fast your heart was beating but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care once he was reaching up to grip your face, a lot less gentle than he had earlier in the week when you thought he was going to kiss you.

“So I don’t give you the attention you were begging for and now you’re flirting with the first guy you find?” His voice was low and harsh, completely demeaning you and still watching you with hatred in his eyes.

You hated how much this drove you crazy, the urge for him to berate you and make you apologize for what you had accidentally done arising quicker than you’d even knew had existed and you were a bit dizzy from how much you wanted this.

“Please.” It was rolling off your tongue before you’d realized you were saying it and you barely recognized your own voice, breathy and begging for something you didn’t even understand. His eyes got even darker, if it was even possible, and your stomach lit up with a desperate heat.

“Pisses me off so bad when you do that.” He was practically hissing it at you, voice a low whisper and his hand around your jaw tightened, leaning in so he was speaking to your ear. “Stop being so fucking dumb and use your words.”

You tried to get ahold of yourself enough to find the right sentence to tell him what you want but your mind was completely blank, instead deciding to just arch your back off the wall so you were pressing tighter against him.

Heeseung faltered a bit and his eyes dropped down towards where your stomachs met, watching as you tried your best to roll your hips up to meet his but failed to actually get any sort of relief for yourself.

“Just fucking touch me.” You were finally gasping the words out through clenched teeth and he didn’t waste any time thankfully, surging forward and surprising you by kissing you deeply.

His tongue was pushing into your mouth before you even processed the fact he was actually kissing you and you were letting out a satisfied groan against his lips, letting him lick into your mouth softly and play with his tongue against yours. His hand was wrapping around your lower back and tugging you forward so you were pressing against him the way you wanted to.

A wave of desire ripped through you feeling that he was hard against you and you snuck your hand in between the tight space of your bodies and palmed him through his shorts, smiling at the way he sucked in a sharp breath and stopped kissing you for a second.

Your smile was dropping when he was meeting your eyes and looking ten times more deadly than he did in a daily basis, still glaring at you like he always did but with tenfold the usual fire and tension. That didn’t stop him from pushing his hips against your seeking hand for a few seconds, eventually stopping and letting out a groan as he snatched your wrist off of him and pinned it against the wall behind you instead.

He was rutting into you so hard that you were almost worried the rough materiel of the wall behind you was going cut your back, completely forgetting about it half a second later when he was pressing himself perfectly against your sensitive lower half.

“Keep your fucking mouth shut.” His voice was dangerously low in your ear and you could feel him taking heavy breaths against your neck, panting to try and keep himself quiet.

You were nodding quickly at his command despite the fact he couldn’t see you, curling your hand tightly in his hair and spreading your legs wider so he could continue to slot himself between them and give you just a taste of relief. He immediately took the silent invitation and shifted his hips against yours more, almost bordering painful if it wasn’t so addicting to feel him this way.

Heeseung was clearly struggling to control himself and you couldn’t recall ever feeling this needy for anybody before, something about how forbidden the entire situation was mixed with the life of tension and anger was driving you absolutely insane and you didn’t seem to be alone in it.

“You want me to fuck you here?” He was picking his face up out of your neck to look down at you and check your reaction, his eyes hazy and dark with his lips parted and swollen like he’d been chewing on them. “Where anyone can hear you begging for me?”

“Who said I’m going to beg?” You were trying to snap back at him but your voice came out weak, nearly a desperate whine that got louder when he was shifting against you again.

“Sure seems like it, the way you’re spreading your legs for me already.” His big hand was sliding down past your waist and cupping underneath your bare knee, hiking your leg up harder and rolling his hips against you so deliciously you nearly collapsed as a stuttered moan ripped through you.

You immediately took your hand out of his hair and covered your mouth with it, eyes rolling back a bit at the feeling of him shifting his hips against you and practically dry humping you right there against the wall.

Knowing that the house workers were only a few feet away and walking around completely clueless about what they might walk into was only making you more desperate for him and you didn’t care how out of character it was for you. At this point you would be willingly to let him take you in front of anybody who wanted to watch, leave you shaking and crying for him in public.

He didn’t need to hear you say it to know this, a cocky look on his face underneath the fucked out expression he already had.

“Always running this pretty mouth.” He was speaking again in that same low tone but he seemed completely out of it, almost like he was talking to himself and not you. His free hand was gripping your face, squishing your cheeks together so your lips were puffed out and your eyes were wide. “Should’ve known you wanted me to stuff it.”

An embarrassing wave of want washed over you again at his words, nearly drooling at the thought of him shoving his cock in your mouth to get you to stop back talking. It would’ve felt more humiliating if it wasn’t for the way his eyes were completely frozen on your mouth like he was thinking the exact same thing.

You couldn’t resist the urge to tease him more and your tongue was sticking out softly before you’d even realized you were doing it, causing him to loosen his rough grip on your face a bit to allow for it to push past your lips. You were staring up at him with big wet eyes and your tongue on display, silent waiting and begging for something you hoped he’d understand.

Thankfully he did and he was only hesitating for half a second before he was picking his head up more and spitting down into your mouth.

Heeseung didn’t even give you a chance to swallow before he was following the spit with his tongue, licking along yours and cleaning up his own mess before you were pulling him back into a kiss and sucking him deeper and deeper into your mouth. It was completely filthy, the nastiest kiss you’d ever shared with somebody and you were terrified you’d become addicted to the feeling of his spit on your chin.

“Please Hee.” You were gasping out into his mouth, reaching up to tug on his hair again and get his attention locked on you and your request. “Need you to fuck me.”

For the first time since you’d started, he actually looked hesitant. He glanced down the hallway towards where the dozen of workers were and your heart dropped to your stomach thinking he was going to stop what you were doing, even if it was just to take you upstairs to a bedroom. You couldn’t handle the idea of separating for even a second and you were spreading your legs impossibly wider and touching his face with your shaky hand.

He glanced back at you in question and his eyes darkened again seeing the pure disgusting need on your face.

“You’re stupid if you think I’d fuck you like this.” He was shaking his head in anger and taking a step away from you, one that immediately had your body tensing and your heart aching in upset.

You were instinctively reaching out to try and grab onto him, just about ready to get down on your knees and beg him not to leave you at the peak of your high like that. But the empty look in his eyes made you rethink that decision and you just stood there in shock as he gave you one more angry glare before he was exiting the hallway and leaving you alone inside of it.

It was even more pathetic considering the way your entire body slumped against the wall before sliding down it and ending up on the floor with humiliation completely smothering you, knowing you only had a few breaths to wallow in your embarrassment before needing to get up and go back to your room.

—

You’d completely retracted back to your bed again after that and this time not even the smell of food or the sound of annoying construction could get you to go back downstairs and risk running into him.

Jiwoo had called you three times every hour before she finally gave up and instead sent a thread of text messages that you promptly ignored. You were overly paranoid that she’d find out what had happened, like even the sound of your voice would give away the fact you’d made out with her brother since she last heard from you.

If you hadn’t hated him fully before than you definitely did now because there was no way you’d still want Lee Heeseung after he embarrassed you like this.

You didn’t think he would tell anybody considering he’d get just as much heat for it as you would, if not worse since he was older and supposed to be taking care of you and his sister at all times in your parents minds. But the interaction staying a secret was almost worse in your mind, a private thing between you and him.

Nothing could have convinced you to leave the comfort of your familiar bed until the wind of the sea lightly blew back the curtains and gave you a small glimpse of the sunset raging outside.

You let out a big breathy sigh, realizing now how much time you’d been wasting moping around about a stupid boy when this was your last summer ever getting to experience sunsets this bright and air this fresh. Heeseung definitely wasn’t sat in his room caring about you and how he hurt you so why should you be?

It was almost completely dark by the time you made it down to the beach but you didn’t regret coming, the lake looking long and endless now that you couldn’t see the other side.

You remember it seeming a lot scarier when you were a kid, before you’d ever seen the real sea and back when you and Jiwoo used to dare each other to swim out as far as you could before seaweed grabbed at your ankles and spooked you back to shore.

Your heart ached with how much you missed her and you were pulling your phone out of your pocket and putting it to your ear without another breath, playing in the sand with your free hand while you anxiously waited for her to pick up and talk to you. You didn’t have to wait long considering she was answering after the second ring and you let out a breath of relief.

“Finally, I was starting to think you’d really killed eachother.” Her voice was sweet as ever and a wave of fondness and nostalgia hit you even harder, laughing softly but not fully answering her yet.

For some reason the sound of her light joking mixed with the waves from her side of the phone was bringing tears to your eyes and you didn’t need to say anything for her to understand you were feeling something heavy. You both stayed silent and you hoped she figured you were just upset about leaving the lake house behind and didn’t create her usual conspiracy theories.

“You okay over there? I can come early if you need me to.” Your friend was doing her best to reassure you without knowing why you were upset and you wiped your now running tears with your sleeve.

“I’m alright, just feeling a lot of things right now I think. Are you having fun?” You weren’t exactly lying in your answer which was good considering you didn’t want to lie to her anymore than you already had to.

“I’d be having more if you were with me but you already know that. Can’t believe my brother gets to spend more time with you than I do.”

Your heart sunk a little at the mention of the exact reason you were crying and you were sure how to respond to her without giving too much away. She could read you even over the phone so you knew she might’ve felt the energy shift now that she’d brought her brother up, sniffling a bit and letting the sand run through your fingers.

She talked a bit more about her vacation and how much fun being at the sea was after so long and you listened to her excitedly chatter, letting out soft hums every once in awhile to assure her you were still listening.

You actually were but a large part of you was still thinking about Heeseung and what he might be doing back up the hill inside the lake house. You wondered if he felt guilty for you hiding in your room or if he had even realized you weren’t inside anymore.

Jiwoo was eventually bidding you a goodnight and making you promise to answer her the next time she called on the first ring, sounding a bit heavier when she was saying goodbye and hanging up the phone. You hated that you didn’t feel the typical happy buzz that your bestfriend typically brought and more tears made their way down your cheeks.

You sat like that on the shore for another hour, watching the waves roll and crash onto the sand just a few feet away from where you were sitting.

It was putting you in a sort of trance, so many thoughts running through your head that you weren’t even able to pinpoint where one started and another ended.

You were so deep in your own head that you didn’t at all hear the calls of your name from up the hill, starting off mildly confused and concerned but escalating to full on desperate and panicky shout when they were met with no response. You certainly didn’t hear the footsteps coming down the large wooden steps from the back deck or when he breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing you on the beach.

“There you are.” Your back tensed at the sound of his voice and the soft tone in which he mumbled the words. “I thought for a second you’d gone back home.”

He was coming to sit beside you on the sand, just close enough where you could feel his body beside yours and the wind carried over his familiar scent but still too far to touch.

Which was for the better in your opinion.

You ignored him even though you could sense his stare on the side of your face and embarrassment was hitting you in rough rolling waves, hoping that the moonlight wasn’t quite bright enough to give away the large tear streaks down your cheeks or how red your nose had gotten from crying.

“Hey, I’m sorry about earlier.” His voice was still soft which was doing absolutely terrible things to your heart and you shook your head slightly, pulling your lip between your teeth to stop yourself from letting out another sob. “I’m sorry about everything in general.”

He was turning to face you more and you braved up enough to spare him even the slightest glance, seeing pure guilt and turmoil on his face.

Meeting your gaze was enough for him to realize how upset you truly were and he was sighing before scooting closer to you in the sand and putting one of his warm hands on your bare arm, now cold from sitting out in the wind for so long. You instinctively leaned into his touch and his other hand gently gripped the side of your face so you couldn’t look away again.

It was such a jarring difference from how he’d touched you earlier, from how he touched you your entire life actually.

“I didn’t mean to be so mean so you or leave you there like that I just… I just panicked I think.” He was rambling now and stuttering through his words, something you knew he often did whenever he got in trouble when you were younger. “You think about something happening for so long and then it actually does and it’s so much more different than you thought, n-not that it wasn’t good I just mean that…”

He trailed off and sighed again and you squeezed your eyes shut to try and ignore the desperate urge to just kiss him and shut him up.

You knew you needed to hear whatever he had to say and he definitely needed to say it, he long overdue owed you a few hundred apologies and it was a lot more than the fact he’d left you high and dry earlier.

It was all the times he glare at you and stolen a smile off your face and every argument you ever had that left you stricken with angry tears and storming out of a room, the embarrassment of being told off at his graduation party and even worse the fact he didn’t kiss you until he was driven by jealously.

“I’m just so sorry.” He seemed like he was ending his monologue there and you gave him a heavy look, slightly nuzzling into his hand before placing your own over it. “Say something please?”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.” Your words were more honest than you expected them to be but his eyes softened when your voice came out weak and croaky, the full expanse of your hurt getting more obvious by the second. “I’m just confused.”

You were turning slightly so you were facing him more and you were certain the two of you looked a bit ridiculous, sitting criss crossed directly opposite of each other with your knees touching and his hand holding your face still, only moving to push some of your hair out of your face.

“I am too.” He was whispering now and you felt the full effect of it low in your stomach, a soft smile on his face now that you were opening up to him a bit more.

Heeseung had never left your life and it was a lot easier to list out all the terrible moments you’d had with him over the softer times, glimpses of days where he’d had a smile just like this wether it was in your direction or not.

He’d been there every time you called for a ride even if he complained about it most of the way home and you’d never stopped listening in extra hard whenever you heard his sweet dorky laugh coming from a few rooms over. You must have been blind to what your mothers had clearly started seeing a long time ago but little things this summer had made you reconsider how deep your dislike for each other goes.

You’d long hesitated to fight with him, starting to rethink your quick jabs and your constant attitude whenever he walked into a room and clearly he’d picked up on more than you ever realized, obvious by him so easily knowing your comfort snacks or the way to calm you down.

“You know,” Your eyes snapped back up to his when he started to speak in a low voice as you waited to hear what he had to say. He looked a bit nervous, like he was about to confess something and you gave him your full attention. “When we used to fight as teenagers, I’d always feel so terrible for making you storm home. Even started playing guitar with my window open so you could hear it.”

Your entire world view shattered just off of that simple admission alone and a heavy sob interrupted whatever else he was going to say, his eyes widening in surprise for just a moment before you were leaning over onto him fully and throwing yourself into a tight hug.

He eagerly accepted although not understanding the true weight he’d just released from your shoulders and you felt him let out a big breath of relief now that you were in his arms, his hands rubbing up and down your back as you cried softly.

You didn’t need to hear him say that he felt the same way that you did, as confusing and scary as it was after projecting your anger onto each other for so long. Your heart tore up thinking about that young girl in her bedroom just holding onto the silly childish hope that the boy next door was actually playing for her, now knowing it wasn’t foolish at all and he’d been right there hoping she was listening.

It hurt you to think about how much time you’d wasted carrying on a childish feud and how whatever this was had started off being such a disaster of jealously and toxic back and forth.

But you were immediately soothed by the never wavering feeling of his arms wrapped tightly around you and the gentle sound of the waves crashing on the shore, spending one last summer on the beach that raised you and creating your first one with the boy you loved.

#enhypen #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fanfiction #heeseung x reader #heeseung smut #enhypen smut #heeseung au #enhypen au #heeseung fic #lee heeseung

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d-targaryenshoe · 5 months ago

Text

Books And Looks - Luke Thompson

Word Count: 1006

Summary: Some say even well-known actors can have a crush on authors, can they not?

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the city as the cast of Bridgerton wrapped up another long day of filming for season four.

Jonathan, Claudia, and Luke Thompson found themselves at their favorite pub, unwinding with drinks in hand.

“To another successful day!” Jonathan cheered, raising his glass.

“To another successful day!” echoed Claudia and Luke, clinking their glasses together.

They settled into a comfortable silence, the camaraderie of their shared experiences providing a soothing backdrop to the evening.

After a few sips, Jonathan leaned back in his chair and sighed.

“It’s going to be strange going back to normal life after this,” he mused. “I’ve gotten so used to the hustle and bustle of the set.”

Claudia nodded. “I know what you mean. There’s something about the energy here that’s hard to replicate in the real world. But I am looking forward to seeing my sister again.”

“You have a sister?” Luke asked, intrigued.

They’d spent so much time together on set, yet there were still many things they didn’t know about each other’s personal lives.

Claudia smiled warmly. “Yes, she’s a few years older than me. We’re very close, even though she’s quite the introvert.”

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. “An introvert? Doesn’t sound like anyone in your family.”

Claudia laughed. “You’d be surprised. She’s a famous author, but she avoids the spotlight as much as possible. Her books have a huge following.”

Luke’s ears perked up at this revelation. “A famous author? What’s her name?”

Claudia hesitated for a moment, then said, “Y/n Jessie Peyton.”

Luke’s eyes widened, nearly spilling his drink in his excitement. “No. Are you serious? She’s one of my favorite authors in the world! I’ve read all her books at least twice.”

Jonathan chuckled at Luke’s sudden burst of enthusiasm. “Looks like you’ve got a superfan on your hands, Claudia.”

Claudia shook her head, laughing. “Luke, she’s very private. She doesn’t like the spotlight, and she doesn’t do meet-and-greets.”

Luke’s expression turned pleading. “Please, Claudia, you have to introduce me. I promise I won’t make a scene. I just want to tell her how much her work means to me.”

Claudia sighed, seeing the sincerity in Luke’s eyes. “I can’t make any promises, Luke, but I’ll talk to her. We’ll see what happens.”

Over the next few weeks, Luke didn’t let up.

He would bring your name up in conversation whenever he could, his admiration for your work shining through.

Claudia found it endearing but was also protective of your privacy.

One evening, after another long day of filming, Claudia received a call from you.

You chatted about your lives, and inevitably, Luke’s name came up.

“Luke Thompson?” you repeated, surprised. “The actor?”

“Yes, the very same,” Claudia replied. “He’s a huge fan of your work, y/n. He’s been pestering me non-stop to introduce you two.”

You laughed softly. “Well, that’s flattering. I didn’t realize my books had such an impact on people. Maybe… maybe we could arrange something. A small, casual meeting. No big deal.”

Claudia smiled. “I think that would make his year, y/n. Let me know when you’re free, and I’ll set it up.”

A few days later, Claudia walked onto the set in full 'Eloise' with a secretive smile.

She had arranged for you to visit, and she couldn’t wait to see Luke’s reaction.

As they broke for lunch, Claudia spotted Luke and Jonathan chatting by the catering table.

“Hey, guys,” she said, trying to keep her excitement in check. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. “A surprise? What kind of surprise?”

Before Claudia could answer, you walked onto the set, looking slightly out of place but wearing a warm smile. Luke’s jaw dropped as he recognized her.

“No way,” he whispered, his eyes wide. “Is that…?”

Claudia grinned. “Luke, Jonathan, this is my sister.”

You stepped forward, extending your hand. “Hi, Luke. Claudia’s told me a lot about you.”

Luke shook your hand, trying to keep his composure. “It’s such an honor to meet you. Your books have had such a profound impact on me. Thank you for your incredible work.”

You blushed slightly, clearly not used to such direct praise. “Thank you. It means a lot to hear that.”

Jonathan, sensing the significance of the moment, clapped Luke on the back. “See, dreams do come true, mate.”

You all laughed, the initial tension easing into a more comfortable atmosphere.

You spent the rest of their lunch break chatting about your books, the writing process, and life on set.

Luke found himself captivated not just by your words but by your presence.

There was a quiet strength to you that drew him in, and he could tell you felt a connection too.

As the days passed, your visits to the set became more frequent. You and Luke would steal moments to talk, sharing stories and laughter.

It was clear to everyone around you that there was something special brewing between you two.

One evening, after a particularly long day of filming, Luke and you found yourselves alone on set.

The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over everything.

You sat on a bench, enjoying the peaceful silence.

“You know,” Luke began, “I never imagined I’d get to meet you, let alone spend so much time with you. It feels like a dream.”

You smiled, your eyes reflecting the fading light. “Life has a funny way of surprising us, doesn’t it? I never thought I’d enjoy being on a set, but here I am.”

Luke took a deep breath, gathering his courage. “Listen, I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but I’d love to get to know you better, outside of all this.”

You looked at him, your expression softening. “I feel the same way. I’d like that very much.”

You shared a smile, the unspoken promise of something more hanging in the air.

As the first stars appeared in the night sky, Luke reached for your hand, and you didn’t pull away.

#benedict bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict x you #benedict x reader #benedict bridgerton x reader #luke thompson x reader #luke thompson #luke thompson x you #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton netflix

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hearts4chriss · 8 months ago

Text

Slice of Pizza.

Horny!Chris + Jake’s!little sister

prompt: your filming with ur brother Jake and the sturniolo triplets ur meeting for the first time, you and Chris had already been secretly talking behind their backs, he finally gets to meet you in person. After the videos over he offers to take you home and he can’t resist

Contains: public teasing, horny Chris, pet names (ma, mama, sweetheart??, baby, good girl, my girl, princess), m!oral receiving, unprotected sex ( wrap before u tap ), doggy , dirty talk, phat ass reader, creampie yktv

a/n- a lot of ppl wanted this one hope u like :)) ALL CREDS DUE TO ANYONE WHO INSPIRED ME ILYSM !! ( tags ran out )

fuck fuck fuck fuck

Today was the day.

My brother Jake and I were collaborating with the sturniolo triplets, and I was so so nervous.

The main reason is that I was talking too one of them, Chris sturniolo.

We’d been talking for a little over a month and I was actually gonna meet him, but the thing is.

His brothers and my older brother Jake have no idea we’ve been talking.

let alone how much of a freak he is, as well as I am.

We’ve sent each other, images and texts and said things but I was going insane over meeting this man.

I had decided to reach out to one of my brothers friends and ex Tara fucking yummy.

my baby💞🫂

Tara help me, yk how I’ve been talking to Chris?

I’m fucking meeting him tdy bc Jake and I are collabing w the triplets.

taraa💋

baby you’ll be okayyyy

he wants you so bad trust

Chris is gonna beg to fuck you js wait 😛😛

My cheeks grew a pink hue just thinking of that, it was obviously Chris is very attractive and I’d love to have him fuck the absolute shit out of me.

so there I sat in my room wearing this outfit praying too impress him.

A white mini skirt and a fitted skims crop tank pushing my tits up even more highlighting my figure as I threw a grey zip up over it.

I walked downstairs being greeted with my brother.

Finally, took all day. Jake rolled his eyes and I stuck my tongue out

shut up come on I wanna meet these kids. I chuckle and he raised an eyebrow at me but didn't utter a word as we hoped in the car and began driving too the location.

We got there pretty quickly and I thankfully hadn't seen a text from chris today which calmed my nerves, but it was until I saw him standing outside of my car along with matt and nick.

I quickly got out the car.

holy- shit. was all I could utter under my breath at the 3 same faced men.

Matt had tattoos which i'd always loved and he was fairly attractive.

Nick also had tattoos and he was absolutely adorable I could see us becoming close.

Chris.

The one of three i'd been "sexting" and oh my fuck he was so attractive.

He had a small stubble but not too much, his pink plump lips i'd been dying too kiss and lord the all grey- I could see his dick outline was he not wearing boxers??

wow kid ur short. Chris chuckled reaching in too give me a hug

hey baby, I finally get too meet your fine ass. He whispered low enough in my ear so I could feel a wetness grow in my panties seeping from my cunt.

Hey chris! we wanna hug her too! Nick rolled his eyes pulling me in for a hug.

ur so pretty holy shit- nick said softly and i smiled giving him a thank you.

Why am I last? Matt rolled his eyes playfully and I gave him a tighter hug than the rest.

Alright, can I have my sister back? My older brother basically emerged from his tesla and they all gave me a smile and we piled into the car as we pulled out foods from, McDonalds, a pizza place, Wendy's and more.

I sat in the passenger seat and Chris in the driver whilst nick matt and jake were in the back and he started the intro

“Hey guys welcome back to another video, this time I’m actually In my car, I’m joined by…”

Y/n Webber, the better sibling. I give the camera a wave and Jake rolls his eyes at me

“And also this collab was highly requested so…”

“Nick, Matt and Chris are with us today the sturniolo triplets!” As we all clapped for a bit.

"So today we are gonna be eating a bunch of our favourite foods and just talking and yeah that’s it!" I smiled.

"McDonald’s first?" Chris asked and everyone nodded as we each grabbed fries.

The video was super funny, Chris kept making me and everyone else laugh as well as nick and Matt attacking him it made the whole thing better. Until…

"Alright last thing?" I asked and everyone nodded

I opened the pizza box letting everyone grab a piece, I watched how Chris’s almost slipped so I helped him.

"They weren’t wrong, you are the clumsiest one". I let out a soft laugh and he rolled his eyes

"Yeah yeah". Chris chuckled and I held up the pizza for him as he looked me in the eyes, god I felt something. As he shook his head slowly trying to get a bite he managed to do so after about 7 seconds.

"Is it good bro? "Matt asked him and I let out a laugh as well as nick and my brother

"Shut up Matt". Chris spoke in a monotone and everyone laughed at that as if he wasn’t just fucking teasing me, so I decided to get him back.

"Guys it’s kinda hot-" I say unzipping my jacket Chris’s eyes follow my hand on the zipper

"Right I was gonna say".. Nick chuckles eating his pizza.

I take off my hoodie leaving my tank top as is my tits sitting perfectly upright and I noticed Chris’s eyes and I smirked continuing to eat my pizza occasionally licking the grease off my fingers looking him in the eyes.

Paybacks a bitch huh

little did I know, Chris was a fucking freak

"what did you say too my brother to even allow me to be alone with you". I let out a laugh and he chuckled pulling me onto the couch.

"Im good with words baby. He gave me a small wink before pulling me onto his lap for a kiss".

"Mmm this was well worth the wait". Chris mumbles in between kisses before grabbing my ass making me gasp as he slipped his tongue into my mouth as they played together.

He moved me on his lap, groaning as my clit rubbed on his growing boner.

"Fuck- I need ur mouth so bad" - Chris rested his head on my shoulder before tapping my ass signaling me to get up.

I got on my knees and leaned up pulling down his sweatpants along with his boxers watching his cock spring out and my eyes grow wide.

The length of it wasn’t even describable, let alone the girth, the tip was a dark pink and the veins going up the side had my panties dripping.

"you gonna suck me off or keep staring because I love the sight baby". Chris smirked biting his lip down at me and I wrap my hand around him and he moaned softly.

"baby.. please I need you- been waiting so long for you to do this" - he pleaded, almost in a whiny voice of need for me and I’d been waiting to do this.

I kiss his tip first before spitting on his cock stroking him and he throws his head back on the couch cushion.

I wrap my lips around his cock hollowing my cheeks as I began to suck him off sloppily and his hand gravitated towards my hair.

"oh fuck- just like that" - he moaned softly his eyes fluttering shut his mouth slightly agape as his chest heaved as he felt my plump lips wrap around him beginning to deep throat his dick

"oh shit ma- feels so fuckin good" - he shudders on his words as his eyes open looking down at me sucking his cock, the sound of my gagging on him were enough to make him squirm, Chris’s large hand on my head guiding me while running it in my hair.

Sucking Chris off was an experience I’d never forget and the fact I was making him feel so good whilst doing it only made my thighs clench together with anticipation, needing his cock buried inside me.

his hips occasionally thrusting allowing his tip to hit the back of my throat aggressively knowing I’d be sore tomorrow.

"F-fuckk love that pretty mouth on my dick" - he shudders when my nose presses against his lower abdomen as I deep-throat him having to hollow my cheeks due to his size.

Chris always told me he loved sloppy head and that’s exactly what I was giving him, salvia and his pre cum was running down my chin whilst spit bubbles formed on the corners of my mouth and my mascara was sweating off from the tears in my eyes.

"God you look so fucking pretty sucking me off baby" - he praised, breaths in between each word pulling on my hair slightly tighter as we made eye contact and he moaned at the sight.

"there’s my girl, keep ur eyes on me, wanna see that pretty face- shit" - Chris tried to maintain eye contact with me as best he could, but the way I was looking at him alone made him cum deep in my mouth filling it to the brim and a deep moan as he came.

Chris’s cum smeared along my lips as I swallowed it and getting up off my knees and he smiled.

"C’mere, I gotta stretch you out". Chris’s fingers pressed against my panties and I moaned softly at the touch and he chuckled.

"Hold on baby, you’ll thank me later, trust me". He smirked sliding two of his fingers inside my sopping cunt making me squeal.

"Shit Chris" - I moaned as he held me by my waist on his lap stretching me out for a bit.

"hold on ma, I don’t want you to get hurt". He kissed my cheek curling his fingers making me moan in his ear.

"You feel stretched out?" He rubs my back and I nodded

"I need words princess". Chris spanked my ass and I jolted.

"Yes yes! I do, please Chris- please fuck me" - I beg and he halts his movements sliding his fingers out of me.

"On all 4s for me and strip". He taps my ass and I do so getting on the couch pealing my panties and skirt off along with my tank top allowing me to be bare for him.

"Your so beautiful, gonna fuck this pussy so good" - he pulled his sweats down fully positioning himself behind me rubbing his cock between my folds making me whimper with frustration and his hand came down smacking my ass.

"Patience baby, such a needy girl". Chris shakes his head before gripping my hips pushing himself inside me making my back arch at the girth and sudden sharp pain from the stretch.

"Chris I-it’s not gonna fit" - I cry out and he massages my hip reassuringly.

"shh it’s okay just tell me when, take ur time". He whispered, I took some deep breaths as I felt my body finally adjust to him.

"Y-you can move now" - I sigh deeply and he holds my hips beginning to thrust slowly at first.

"Oh fuck- m’faster" - I moan peering behind my shoulder and he gives me a sly smile before picking up the paste making my jaw hang open as his hips came in contact harshly with my ass.

"shit- ur so tight ma" - Chris groaned his hands grip my ass occasionally letting go to give it a slap rubbing over the soft skin.

"oh god- ur so deep Chris" - i drop my head breathing heavily before he grips my hair thrusting harder.

"huh? I wanna hear that again". He holds his grip firmly waiting for me to respond as I’m dazed out on his cock.

"f-fuck! Your so- deep" - I moan in between words shuddering in his grasp as he releases his grip from my hair gravitating towards my hips again.

"that’s a good girl" - Chris praised rutting his hips into mine, the sound of our bodies connecting and my moans and heavy breathing along with his filled the empty room creating a sex aroma

"shit Chriss" - I dragged out moaning as he arched my back making his cock reach depths I don’t think we’re possible before he paused.

"W-what are you doing?!" I whimper in frustration and he shushed me.

"I wanna watch you fuck yourself on my cock can you do that for me?" He whispers into my neck, tickling my skin, his raspy voice going to my core.

I positioned myself on my forearms arching my back beginning to move my hips back and forth on his dick and he moaned in response holding my hip for comfort.

"fuck- keep throwing that shit back on me ma" - Chris shuddered, biting his lip at the sight, my moans shooting to his throbbing cock as well as my moans fueling his ego and filling his ears

"fuckk yes- feels so good- I cried out". clenching my fists at the pleasure and the angle his dick was hitting, the tip feeling on my g spot made me shake each time.

Chris was in heaven, just the sight of this could've made him cum inside me.

"shit- there you go baby- love that ass" - he lets out a deep groan laying a smack across my cheeks making me squeal as he rubs over the soft skin as I continued fucking myself on his cock, picking up the pace, our breathing syncing picking up.

"oh shitt- yes yess!" I squirm and shake ever so slightly as his tip kisses my most sensitive spot.

"Looks like I found it". He mumbles to himself before grabbing my hips beginning to thrust his own into mine making my jaw hang open whilst only heavy breathing comes out

"shit- fucked you speechless?" He lets out a breathy moan and I can’t help but mimick his actions because he quite literally fucked me speechless.

"God you take me so well" - sound so pretty on my cock- he lays a harsh smack to my ass making me squeal out as I close my walls around him.

"Chris I-I’m gonna cum" - I turn my head to the side seeing his facial expression as my breath picks up fists clenched as his hand rubs my clit.

"come on baby give it to me" - he praises his fingers play with my pussy overstimulating it as I cried out Chris’s name repeatedly until I creamed his cock.

He pulls out painting white ropes on my back giving me a second to catch my breath.

"You okay?" Chris pants pulling me onto his lap.

"yeah I’m okay- that was- well worth it". I smile pushing the hair sticking to his forehead away.

All over a slice of pizza huh.

Shut up Chris. I roll my eyes as he presses kisses to my shoulder

@mattsleftnipple03 @bernardsleftbootycheek @sturniolopowers @gdsvhtwa @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @worldlxvlys @chrisslut25 @princessbetsy123-blog @mattslolita @guccifrog @blahbel668 @mattsneezing @trickywritters @hearts4chris

@nonamegirlxsturniolo @luvmxtt @theyluv-meee @hoesformatt @luv4kozume @kikisturnioloo @itzdarling @pepsiimaxx @babyddolly @iiheartstef @junnniiieee07 @vicsguitarr @ast3ro1dzz @sturniolowhore @st7rnioioss @emma4eva @braindead4l @ihearttsyouu @kqyslyho3 @imaslut4kehlani @sturnsfav @sunsetsturniolos @sturniololoverr @gamermattsgf @lilyloveschris @dlyansworld @chrisloyalgf @soimightlikeoldmen69 @abbie13sworld @ineedchriscock @sturniol0s @luhsexcbihh @nicksmainbitch @rubyjaneaxx @love4chris @hysteria-things

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #hearts4chriss #neveahandchris4life

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nataliasquote · 23 days ago

Text

Double the trouble | Switch Up | n romanoff

Double the trouble AU

Summary: Yelena is back, the twins are older, and her scheming ways do nothing but backfire. a mother always knows…

Age: 8

Warnings: none

wc: 3.3k

note: hello! I’m back with another little oneshot for DTT. I’ve missed writing tbh and although this isn’t the best, I’m pleased to finally write. I’m sorry for keeping you waiting!

-⧗-

Leaving the twins with Yelena was either the best idea or the worst idea Natasha had ever had. But with Wanda away visiting her brother, Natasha didn’t really have much of a choice. Work didn’t allow her to take time off like this, so she turned to the next best thing.

The blonde was as grumpy as anything until she was faced with the two bundles of joy that were her nieces. She hated kids, but Isla and Y/n were an exception. She opened the door with a huge grin as the twins came barreling towards her, crouching barely over the threshold to collect them in a hug.

Natasha hovered back by the stairs with a soft smile tugging at her lips. Despite having a rocky patch, she truly loved Yelena with all her heart. And seeing her girls happy was all that mattered. She wished she could stay, but with new development plans happening at the studio, she had to oversee the final meeting.

“Are you staying all day?” Isla asked, peering round to look at Yelena’s truck parked in the driveway. “Where’s Fanny?”

“I’ll get her out in a minute, and yes I am, lucky duck.” The twins cheered at her response, their chatter tumbling over the top of each other as they bombarded their aunt with questions. Natasha quickly stepped in, taking them by the hand so Yelena could finally enter the house. After sending her girls over to the couch, Natasha pulled Yelena to one side, whispering in hushed voices.

“It shouldn’t take long, but in case I’m held back, there’s boxed mac and cheese in the cupboard and the girls made cookies last night so they’re in the green jar.”

“Mac and cheese, green jar, got it.”

“Please don’t give them too much sugar,” Natasha warned, knowing her sister’s tendencies, “and they have been arguing a lot, so good luck.” She didn’t really need to tell Yelena what to do, she’d babysat since they were really little, but it gave Natasha a piece of mind to know they were well looked after.

“Natasha, they’ll be fine. Don’t you trust me? Yelena asked with a grin.

“Absolutely not.”

Yelena rolled her eyes, stuffing her hands into her pockets. “So who’s the troublemaker this time?”

“Y/n has been in a mood for the past few days, so it’s currently her. Apparently Isla's existence annoys her.” As if on cue, a yell sounded from the living room and Natasha inwardly groaned. A moment of peace was never on the cards.

As she went to sort out whatever argument was occurring with her eight year olds, Yelena let Fanny out of the car and watched the Akita bound up the front steps, her tail wagging frantically. Any normal person would feel bad about the amount of hair she shed, but it only made Yelena laugh. She truly made every place her home.

The scene in the living room was absurd even for Yelena. Natasha was scolding a pouting Y/n whilst Isla cried in her arms, clutching something hidden behind her hair. Yelena hovered awkwardly, unsure how to approach, and Fanny did the same. It was almost like she could read the room.

Natasha, breathing a sigh of relief, gestured for Yelena to approach, to which she did. A sniffly Isla was pushed in her direction and the young girl lunged at her aunt, clinging to her waist with a sob.

“What happened?” Yelena mouthed, her eyebrows shooting up as Natasha held up what looked like a barbie doll. “Where’s the hair?”

“This one got scissor happy,” Natasha said exasperatedly, jabbing her thumb in Y/n’s direction.

“She stole my barbie!” Y/n protested, folding her arms across her chest in a huff.

“No!” Isla burst out,” that’s mine!”

“Well I don’t care, I was playing with it!”

“Get your own!”

Above their heads, Natasha gave Yelena a look. This is what she had been dealing with since Wanda left and although she hated leaving her kids, the bickering was starting to wear her down. It was Yelena’s turn to handle it for once. She just hoped the house would still be standing when she got back.

“Girls, please,” Natasha sighed, standing up with the barbie in her hand. “Mama has to go in a minute, and I’m not having you acting up for Yelena.” She used her stern mom voice and Y/n paled, hating being told off. “Y/n, can you apologise to Isla please.”

“No.”

Natasha may have a soft spot for her youngest but the glare that crossed her features made the little girl’s eyes well up and she hung her head in shame. “Y/n…” Natasha warned, knowing what came next if she didn’t start behaving.

“Sorry,” Y/n mumbled, suddenly very interested in the sleeve of her pink sweater.

“Good,” Natasha stated, brushing off the dog hair from her sleek black suit trousers. “I want you two on your best behaviour, and Yelena will tell me everything that happens. If I find out that you’ve been disrespectful and naughty, I will tell Mama. Okay?”

The girls mumbled in chorus, with Isla still clinging on to Yelena and Y/n standing by herself. It was just a phase, Natasha had to keep reminding herself that, but it certainly felt as though it was going to last forever. She wasn’t the bad mom, but Y/n’s behaviour had been so bad lately that not a day went by where she wasn’t being told off. It hurt her to see her daughter so upset, but Natasha stood strong. It was her own kindred spirit that she saw in Y/n, and now she understood why she was such a difficult child sometimes.

“We’re going to have fun, right guys?” Yelena asked with extravagant enthusiasm, although the responses she got were far from it. “You can go and do your boring adult stuff whilst the cool kids do… cool kid stuff.”

Natasha anxiously glanced at her kids, a wave of doubt washing over her. “Are you sure you’ll be okay? I can cancel-”

“Natasha, go, I’ll be fine. They’re angels with me and I’ve got Fanny with me if it all goes wrong.”

The dog in question gave a small woof and Natasha eyed her warily, far more a cat person than a dog person. She wasn’t totally convinced, but motherhood had made her anxious so she straightened out her jacket and nodded, psyching herself up.

“I’ll be back by 5, 6 at the latest.”

“Have a good day Mama,” Y/n said quietly, trying desperately to get back on her good side. Having Wanda mad at her was bad enough, but having Natasha was the worst thing she could think of. And when her Mama crouched down and opened her arms, Y/n took her chance to get to the hug first, muttering another ‘sorry’ to try and make amends.

“Be good, girls. I’ll be home soon.”

‘Aunty Lena, does Mama hate me?” Y/n asked as the door closed. The blonde frowned and turned to her niece, her large green eyes piercing into the Russian’s soul.

“Of course not, little bug. But you have to start being nice to Isla, okay?”

“I know,” Y/n replied. “She just really makes me mad.”

“That’s what sisters do. Your mama and I used to fight all the time.”

Y/n’s eyes lit up. “You did?”

“It’s totally normal, little bug. When your mama had blue hair, I used to tease her about it all the time.”

Isla’s head perked up at that. “Mama had blue hair?”

“Has she never shown you pictures?” Yelena asked in disbelief. Both girls shook their heads and Yelena grinned. “I’ll make some hot chocolate and I can show you. Your grandma put all our photos as kids in an album.”

The twins cheered loudly and ran to the kitchen, laughing with each other. It was such a stark contrast to earlier that Yelena had to do a double take at what she was witnessing.

“I’m glad you’re not this much work,” she muttered to Fanny, who barked happily at the noise. Kids really were hard work.

~~~

“Lena, kick it!” Isla yelled across the garden, dancing around the goal whilst her aunt really took her time. She was doing it purely to mess with her niece, and it was working perfectly. With another yell, Isla sprinted out of the goal in an attempt to tackle, but Yelena took her chance and sent the ball flying into the goal with a thud.

“That’s not fair!” She cried, running over to retrieve it.

“Another point to Aunt Lena!” Y/n announced from her place at the side before launching into another back walkover. She’d only recently learned the skill at dance and was more than happy to do acro tricks whilst they played. As long as she kept score as promised.

“No! That doesn’t count,” Isla protested, one foot propped up on the ball. “She cheated.”

“I didn’t cheat, you just have no patience,” Yelena said sassily, propping a hand up on her hip. “You’re not going to make a very good goal keeper.”

“I hate soccer anyway,” Isla grumbled, kicking the ball as hard as she could in Yelena’s direction. “It sucks.”

“It’s only because you’re bad at it,” Y/n piped up, now sitting on the porch steps after exhausting herself from cartwheels.

“You’re worse!” Typical comeback but Yelena had had enough. With a roll of her eyes, she marched towards the goal, giving Isla a bump with her elbow as she walked past.

“New game, I’ll be in goal and you have to work together to score. Deal?”

Isla shook her head. “I’m not playing with her, she can’t even kick a ball!”

“I can too!” Y/n protested, sprinting up to her sister. “I’m better than you and I don’t even have lessons.”

“That’s so not true. You-”

“Guys!” Yelena shouted, her Russian accent thickly coating her words. “Do you ever stop this fighting? It’s so annoying!”

The twins went silent, an uncommon phenomenon. Y/n muttered something under her breath but Yelena didn’t have it in her to care anymore. Every time she babysat it made her more and more impressed at how Natasha did it. A true saint.

“New rules. You have to pass it to each other before trying to score. If you don’t, the point goes to me. Okay?”

“Fine!”

Surprisingly, very few fights broke out over the course of the game. Isla did most of the scoring after Y/n well and truly botched her tries. But in her defence, her legs weren’t made for kicking the shit out of a soccer ball.They were made for cartwheels, which Isla soon got fed up with.

After far too long outside, Yelena rounded them up and herded them back inside after teeth started chattering and Y/n’s soaked trouser legs from falling over were turning her lips slightly blue.

After a quick bath she sat them both on Isla’s bed and dug through her closet for some comfier clothes. After a few minutes she sat back on her knees, her mind racing.

“Do you guys match anymore?”

“Ew,” Isla said, her nose scrunching. “Never. All Y/n wears is pink, and I hate pink.”

“You also hate dresses too.”

Yelena was quiet for a moment, the cogs in her head turning. She turned around with a sheepish smile, almost shaking with excitement.

“I have an idea, but you need to cooperate… okay?”

~~~

Natasha sighed as she stepped out of her car, her breath forming a small cloud in front of her. It was far too cold for October and she rushed up the front steps to get inside. The building work was looking amazing and she knew Y/n was itching to get back to the studio just as much as she was (there was only so much kitchen ballet they could do).

It was eerily quiet as the front door opened, only her heels sounding on the wooden floor as she approached the kitchen. She wasn’t met with a pile of bodies throwing themselves at her, which was probably more strange than the silence. Had she trusted Yelena too much and her sister had kidnapped her children and ran off to Russia? Honestly it wasn’t such a surprising theory.

Empty kitchen… empty living room… this was weird. But the sound of giggles couldn’t be hidden and Natasha kicked off her heels at the bottom of the stairs and took the stairs two at a time, her trousers straining around her thigh muscles. Isla’s laugh was the most distinguishable and she pushed the door open slowly, trying not to startle anyone.

The wholesome sight of the three of them sitting on the floor surrounded by stuffed animals was enough to melt Natasha’s heart and she smiled softly, leaning on the doorframe waiting for someone to notice her. And strangely it wasn’t Y/n but Isla who jumped up first, almost stumbling over Fanny to get to her Mama with a shriek.

Natasha caught her daughter in her arms and pressed kisses all over her face, warmth flooding her body. She would never feel complete when she was away from her girls.

Y/n quickly joined in, wanting the same cuddles. Natasha crouched down and stroked their cheeks before pausing slightly, squinting. Something wasn’t right and Yelena’s overly wide grin didn’t help her suspicions either. She stroked Isla’s hair with a chuckle and straightened up, her back aching from bending down so much.

“Did you girls have a good day?” She asked, watching as Y/n settled back on the floor beside Fanny. “You both look happier than when I left.”

“We played soccer and beat Aunt Lena!” Y/n piped up. “I scored all the goals.”

“No, I helped too!”

Natasha didn’t miss the way Yelena nudged her nieces or how their eyes went as wide as saucers. But the redhead just chuckled and took a seat on Isla’s bed, her legs slightly aching from standing all day.

Isla stood in front of her, clearly torn with where to go. Natasha knew she wanted to sit on her knee but watched as she settled beside Yelena again. It was impressive, Natasha gave her that much. Very dedicated to the cause.

“You did? Well done baby. Have you behaved today?”

“They’ve been angels, sestra, as usual. It’s only you they are bad for.” Yelena had a shit eating grin and it took everything in Natasha not to launch a pillow at her head. But she could not condone aggression around her violent children anyway before Y/n got any more ideas.

“Is that right?”

“Mama you had blue hair!”

If looks could kill, Yelena would be well and truly dead. If there was one thing Natasha hated, it was pictures of her younger self. She made far too many questionable decisions and went through one too many boxes of hair dye, so seeing pictures was a no no. Not even Wanda had seen many. And now her daughters had seen the worst ones which she was never going to live down.

“Yelena Belova… what did you do.”

The blonde just shrugged and jumped up, causing Fanny to do the same. The queen of avoiding things. “Who wants Aunt Yelena’s special mac and cheese?”

The twins both cheered and raced out of the room after their aunt, leaving Natasha slightly bewildered in the blue and white room. There were times where Natasha convinced herself that Yelena wasn’t all that bad, and then she pulled stunts like this and put herself back on top of Natasha’s hit list. But that was never going to change.

“What else did you show my kids, Yelena?”

No reply. Typical.

Natasha truly was outnumbered when her sister was around. But then she remembered what was really going on and a small laugh escaped Natasha’s mouth. Adorable, really.

Y/n and Isla helped as much as they could to make dinner, including standing on a chair to stir the boiling noodles and dumping the cheese packets in when instructed. Natasha was banished to setting the table after Isla gave her a lecture about her inability to cook, clearly something else she’d picked up from Yelena. But Natasha yielded, setting the cutlery down with a shake of her head. The longer it went on for, the more she tried not to laugh. And the more slip ups she noticed.

Like how Isla wouldn’t stand on the chair because she was scared of heights, even though yesterday she climbed the largest tree in the backyard. And how Y/n stood still when waiting for her turn, when she’d usually be twirling around with her apron. Natasha could only watch as Yelena heavily emphasised their names and the twins burst into giggles whenever they answered her. It was adorable to see and she couldn’t wait to tell Wanda.

They ate in silence, which was usually the case when mac and cheese was involved. And the girls did very well, Natasha gave them that, until she pulled an admittedly evil move.

“How about cookies?” Yelena asked once plates were cleared and the table was wiped down.

“It sounds good to me,” Natasha agreed, grabbing the tin and sitting back at the table. “One each, you too Yelena. And Y/n, you know the rules. You got in trouble today so you don’t get a cookie.”

She slid the tin to Isla who happily reached in until a protest sounded from the girl next to her.

“That’s not fair! That’s my cookie!”

Isla had already shoved her cookie in her mouth at this point, the crumbs sticking to her cheeks and the front of her shirt. She grinned happily, thankful she agreed to Yelena’s scheming plot.

“Mama! That’s mine!”

Natasha shook her head. “No Y/n, those aren’t the rules, you know that.”

Isla smacked her palm against the tabletop. “I’m not Y/n! She is!” She pointed at her sister harshly, who was licking the crumbs from her fingertips. “We switched!”

“Isla!” Y/n whined, “You weren’t supposed to spoil it!”

“I’m not losing my cookie, give it to me!”

“No,” Y/n said with a grin. “Mama said you can’t have one, so you can’t.”

“I hate you!”

Natasha watched the scene unfold, with Yelena looking more and more concerned. The blonde turned to her sister for help, but was met with only a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

“Do something!” Yelena hissed, but Natasha shook her head.

“Absolutely not,” Natasha said, leaning back in her chair. “It’s your mess, you fix it.”

“Tell her Aunt Lena!” Isla cried, tears threatening to spill. “Tell her I’m Isla! I’m not Y/n.”

Whilst Isla was nearing a breakdown, Y/n’s mean streak thickened. “These cookies really are good.”

“Mama please!”

Natasha rounded the table and placed a kiss on Isla’s forehead before passing her the biggest cookie from the tin. “Here baby, you’re okay,” she soothed, gently wiping her tears. “But your Aunt is an idiot. I did know it was you all along Isl’s, I’m sorry baby.” She picked her daughter up and set her on her lap, holding her close as she ate her cookie.

Yelena’s mouth fell open. “You knew?”

“From the moment ‘Isla’ ran to me first.” Yelena hit the table, muttering ‘dammit’ under her breath. “A mother always know, Yel. Always.”

#double the trouble au #natasha romanoff #marvel #fanfic #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fic #natasha romanoff daughter #natasha romanoff x daughter!reader #wandanat x daughter!reader #wanda maximoff x daughter!reader #wanda maximoff #yelena belova

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msschemmenti · 1 month ago

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emily (derogatory) 🐮

jemily x reader

a/n: short and sweet lil drabble because i’ve got baby fever

“yeah?” y/n answered the phone distractedly.

jj and emily frowned in confusion as the younger woman’s voice filtered though the cell phone. her voice almost cartoony as she spoke. “baby? is that you?” jj asked.

“uh huh, what’s up?” y/n continued in the same voice.

“um, we just got back from the case and were about to head home.” emily supplied.

“yeah, do you need anything?” jj asked.

“oh yes! would you guys stop by the store and get me some baby wipes and a pack of pacifiers?” y/n asked sweetly.

“sure baby.” jj agreed, still very confused.

emily, forever direct piped in next, “is this some new kink youre exploring? we’ll get it but i’ll be honest i don’t know if i can get down with the whole little girl thing.”

the line went silent for a second before y/n scoffed in disbelief, “em honey, i mean this in the nicest way possible. shut up.” y/n heard the older woman huff and jj’s laugh. “it’s not for me, it’s for my niece who im watching this weekend.”

both women ‘oh’ in understanding and emily very sheepishly apologizes but y/n just shakes her head and bids them farewell. she looks down at the baby in her lap and grins before tickling her belly. “auntie’s girlfriend is a little crazy!” she cooed causing her niece to giggle.

when y/n swung the door open, both jj and emily’s hearts nearly melted at the sight of the baby resting on her hip. the littler girl was nestled into their girlfriends side, her tiny fingers wrapped around the necklace on her neck. the sight was absolutely adorable. “hi,” y/n smiled, turning to walk back into the house.

jj was the first to follow, itching to get her hands on that baby. “well hello there. who is this angel?”

emily closed the door and followed both women to the living room and fell into an arm chair across from the couch and watched.

“this is charlotte, but i call her lottie.” y/n grinned down at the baby, turning her to face both jj and emily. “isn’t she just the cutest?”

“oh she sure is, she’s got a head full of hair! gosh i bet your sister had crazy heart burn.” jj cooed reaching out to tickle charlotte’s stomach. the baby giggled and smiled at the blonde fondly. “she’s just about as cute as her auntie.” jj grinned allowing the baby to wrap her cubby hand around her index finger. it wasn’t long before charlotte was leaning her head toward jj and it was taking everything in her not to completely melt into a puddle.

y/n chuckled taking the hint, “lottie, i get it i get it i know she’s pretty.” y/n peaked around her niece’s head to check to see if jj was okay to take the baby and when she saw the way she was cooing and nodding at charlotte she extended her arms softly— passing charlotte over.

jj instantly melted against the back of the couch, attention fully capture by the baby. y/n watched, very familiar with the power little charlotte yielded. “oh charlotte! you are just so perfect.”

emily watched the scene fondly, she’d always loved watch jj with children and she wasn’t surprised that that had extended to y/n. jj so easily slipped into the high pitched baby talk and charlotte was in love. y/n rose from the couch and draped herself over emily’s lap with a soft kiss. “hi.”

emily tore her eyes from jj and the baby and squeezed y/n’s waist affectionately, “hi yourself.” y/n pressed a kiss to emily’s cheek before leaning into her side comfortably.

“hope you guys weren’t hoping for a wild and crazy weekend in the streets, my sister’s husband is having some sort of procedure and she’ll have to take care of him for the next couple days. and i’m obviously lottie’s favorite so im a mother for the weekend.” y/n explained.

“when do we ever have crazy weekends in the streets… now had you said sheets,” emily teased with a knowing smirk.

“god, if you weren’t so hot i’d wonder how you pulled any women being that dorky.” y/n teased causing emily to poke her side playfully.

“i am hot, aren’t i?” emily grinned.

“yeah and dorky as hell.”

emily pinched at the younger woman’s side and turned to reply but both women froze under jj and charlotte’s gaze, “look charlotte, your auntie and emily are being very naughty right now, aren’t they? i’m sure they don’t want me to separate them.” jj warned with a smile causing both y/n and emily to sink back into the chair sheepishly.

somehow, emily had been left to sit with charlotte while she finished her nap. jj had run home to collect appropriate clothes for the weekend and y/n was showering for bed. charlotte was laying on her back on the floor surrounded by pillows and blankets. and emily, well she’d started off lounging across the couch but charlotte had made a weird noise and somehow emily had ended up on the floor right next to her. watching her chest rise and fall attentively.

being that close and paying that much attention means when charlotte’s eyes suddenly twitched and her mouth twitch, emily’s eyes widened. the shower was still running and she knew jj wouldn’t be back soon enough. so when charlotte’s eyes locked on emily’s they both just stared a bit. emily had experience with children from the job but she hadn’t had to put anything she knew into practice in quite some time.

“hey.” she spoke staring down at the baby. no baby talk in sight. charlotte, as if she understood, groaned back her own greeting. “your auntie and jj are busy so it’s just us for right now.” charlotte huffed and emily too that as a response of course. “huh, you’re pretty smart. beauty and brains. definitely got that from your auntie.” emily brought her hand up to adjust the huge bow y/n had insisted on putting on the baby but charlotte caught her finger easily and pulled it toward her mouth. “nope, you can’t eat people. your auntie is really scared of cannibalism and i think she’d be really upset if she found out you tried to eat my finger. she really likes them.” emily monologued and tried to pull her fingers away from the baby.

charlotte didn’t like that. she didn’t like that one bit and when her face started to contort emily sighed and gave in to the big brown eyes staring back at her. “fine fine, no need to cry. you can have my pinky— we don’t get much use out of it anyway.”

after a while charlotte started losing interest in her fingers and reached for the necklace hanging from her neck. and then somehow emily had started making noises to entertain charlotte. she’d stumbled on animal sounds at some point and that turned out to be her biggest mistake.

“what does a cow say? you probably haven’t even seen a cow yet. just know they sound like this—“ emily leaned over and ‘moo’d’ quietly at charlotte. charlotte’s eyes widened and her tiny little lip trembled and before emily knew what was happening she was wailing. and of course like some sort of mothers intuition both y/n and jj suddenly appeared rushing to soothe the baby.

“emily what happened?” jj asked as she ran a hand over charlotte’s head while y/n bounced her against her chest.

“did you know if you moo at babies, they’ll cry?” emily shrugged sheepishly up at the women from the floor.

“emily…” both of her girlfriends groaned shaking their heads.

#criminal minds #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds x reader #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau x reader #jennifer jareau #jemily #jemily x reader #msschemmenti

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minkieater · 2 months ago

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three fates ⟶ khj ⋆ ★

p. kim hongjoong x f!reader w. lots of drug use, and i mean a lot, so please if u don't like drugs don't read this !! 18+ there's smut too, minors dni PLS addiction, consumption, sex while intoxicated, age gap (18 and 22/21 and 24) lemme know if i missed anything!! wc. 13.6k <3

she's finally here <3 my baby!! i am in love with this, this is my favorite thing i've written, city boy joongie is my heart and soul. takes place in the same world as luck & carousel, but none of the characters we've met so far are here !!

♫ — one of these nights, the eagles “i’ve been searching for the daughter of the devil himself i’ve been looking for an angel in white i’ve been waiting for a woman who’s a little of both i can feel her but she's nowhere in sight”

hongjoong is an artist, a creator. everything he’s ever seen, touched, smelled or heard, every little thing he’s ever come in contact with could and has been used in his art in one way or another. he couldn’t help himself, he saw the beauty in everything, from the gloaming atop the horizon of the hudson river on the third day of his bender to the massive rats playing tag in the subway station in downtown brooklyn.

his clothes, his jewelry, his music, his apartment, his friends… everything and everyone is gorgeous, it has to be that way. the well of his creativity never runs dry, not living in this city, not with the life he’s created for himself.

coming from a small brownstone in brooklyn, he lived with his parents and younger sister, a quiet girl that was nothing like him. he was always the rambunctious older brother, could never keep his grades up, couldn’t go a week in school without getting in trouble. she, the scholar, was his parents’ shining star, as well as his own. he hoped she wouldn’t be anything like him, anything like their father.

he’d never compared himself to her, he knew he was just wired differently, a chemical concoction in his head that made him who he was and he loved it. he couldn’t picture his life, himself, any differently. he could never stay focused on one thing, always moving to the next project, always bouncing from opportunity to opportunity.

when he got into high school reality set in of where he lived, who he surrounded himself with, what exactly was accessible to him at all times. from alcohol to drugs to shows to backstages to underground raves, hongjoong learned very quickly the different paths he could take, the routes his life could go in.

he was a junkie, a junkie for adrenaline, for excitement, for anything this godforsaken city had to offer him. so he experimented.

his friends were just like him — loud, outspoken, covered in piercings and tattoos, much too young to have gotten them done professionally. they looked for nothing but a good time, they didn’t care about school, didn’t care about their futures, they cared about a sick guitar riff and how much their dealers were charging for an ounce of weed.

like his father, they introduced hongjoong to good music. growing up he listened to all his father’s favorite bands, from alice in chains to black sabbath to pearl jam, it set a tone for his future, laid the grounds for what the following decade of his life would look like. he spent weeknights, weekends, every night he wasn’t watching his younger sister he’d be at a different show in the city. no name bands, ones that were trying to get a foot in the door to the music industry to DJ sets at underground raves, blinding shows with flashing lights and a thumping bass he’d end up rolling at every damn time.

hongjoong’s friends introduced him to many, many things, but his favorite would have to be cocaine. feeling on top of the world, like he can accomplish anything and everything, hongjoong adored the white powder he often sniffed with a crisp dollar bill. his personality alone was akin to it, he bounced off the walls all by himself, but during a night of drinking the main thing that kept him going, pushing through until sunrise was the bag full of blow in his back pocket.

it got him through high school, it made him pay attention, it made him ask too many questions in class. it gave him confidence, he felt like the most attractive person in the world, like he was at the top of the food chain. it made him optimistic toward his future, he knew he’d become successful no matter what he did whenever he was at the peak of his high.

what he despised about blow was the come down. from feeling untouchable to drained of everything he was worth in about all of forty five minutes, that he couldn’t stand. the one solution, the only solution that every single one of his friends had given him: “joong, you just need to do another line.”

so he did, he always did more, but one thing about cocaine is that you never feel as good as that first line, the one that makes you untouchable, unstoppable, unkillable. he never thought he’d feel that again, that beautiful, unique euphoria, until he was a freshman in college, at a grimey city nightclub’s show of your band’s debut.

he watched you in awe, blown pupils taking in every last detail of you strumming your guitar. how your fingers moved from string to string, black painted fingertips going white from the pressure. how your hair flowed in the air as your head banged to the drums, how your red lips stained the microphone when you sang into it. he grew up listening to music, he spent years listening to great bands and really terrible ones, by now he knew the difference.

he knew then and there what field his career would lay in. dirt caked the floor he stood on, posters and receipts and papers of the sort covered the walls, the disgusting nightclub he now owed everything to offered him two things, you and the chance to make something of himself.

he knew your band was special, knew you had the raw talent to make it big. he wanted to see it, he could picture it now, your faces stretched across a billboard in times square. it was exciting, this feeling that flushed through him, knowing he was watching celebrities perform before they had their break, their break that would come soon if they just had someone to sign them.

he did everything in his power to wait diligently for your set to be over, already knowing that he and his friends would make it backstage, a routine for them every time they came to these shows. his head nodded along to the music, a can of beer in his hand, his hair tickling the back of his neck every time the main singer hit a note he himself couldn’t.

when your band finally made their last bow, thanking the crowd for their attendance and cheers, hongjoong felt the adrenaline in his fingertips. he was so, so close to meeting you, telling your band what he thought, buying you a drink. so close to taking you back to his dorm, untying your skimpy black bikini top, learning your tattoos to memory.

he usually went for the drummer — that he knew by now. after a few lines and a six pack he would ache to be bent over, or be the one bending someone over, that didn’t matter to him. what did matter was that he wanted a good fuck, he planned on it, he craved it, from trial and error his eyes always landed back on the drummer. it hasn’t failed him yet.

he wasn’t sure what made you different, why you caught his eye on the small stage, what stopped him from eyeing up the green haired drummer he couldn’t place. you were magnetic, with your bulky boots, revealing clothes, intriguing tattoos and piercings all up your ears. he wanted to smear the lipstick you wore down your chin, wanted to see it all over himself, prints of crimson running down his torso. he shivered, desire crawling up his spine when he pictured it, it was too easy, your stage presence was like no other.

when he got backstage and first saw you sitting on the torn up couch, handheld mirror in your grasp with three perfectly parallel lines laid across the glass, the confirmation was instant. you had a debit card on your lap, a rolled up dollar bill, sunglasses and that very lipstick he was fantasizing about laid across your thigh. a smile broke out across his face, one wicked and knowing, one that told everyone in the room hongjoong had found his game for the night.

you looked up to him from the amber colored couch, patches of questionable browns and grays mimicking a pattern across the rough material. your pupils were blown, huge and empty, matching the ones that stared back into them. the room backstage was small, a space he deemed claustrophobic, much too boxy for the amount of people occupying it. a mirror, a clothing rack and a couch, not much for a band to prepare for a show. he was impressed to say the least that a band of your aptitude had put on such a good performance in these conditions.

his friends went around the room in commendation, giving each member their own praise, complimenting the band as a whole. hongjoong was excited to do the same when he was in the crowd, but being back here with the adrenaline from the show being thick in the room, a voice told him to stay quiet, something that was close to impossible for him.

“you,” you began, and hongjoong’s neck snapped to you, greeted with a finger pointed directly at himself, “where did you get your jeans?”

“diesel,” he looked down to the ripped denim hugging his skinny legs, “vintage, i thrifted them from the shop on sackett.”

he watched as the eyes he couldn’t see the color of glanced up and down his figure, taking in every detail of his outfit, his body. you glanced back down to the mirror in your palm then back up to him, “you want a line?”

hongjoong’s feet were moving before he nodded yes. he sat down next to you on the decrepit couch, seated on the cushion in the middle. your hand moved under his chin and he could see his reflection in the glass below the lines, rich chocolate blending in with pupils, too wide to be able to tell where they started or ended.

he took the dollar from your raw, discolored fingers and sniffed, taking the line closest to you on the end. he was wide awake then, energy flooding his veins like he’d just slept for fourteen hours and drank three cups of coffee. his smile returned as he glanced at you, watched you do the same, took in every detail.

your hair, tucked behind your ears, laid in front of your shoulders far past the string of your bikini top. your lips were in a tight line, a streak of blood red below your nose, which had the rolled up bill just beneath the surface of your right nostril. he watched you sniff once, twice, both lines disappearing from the glass in your palm, your head tilting back with an additional sniff and a knuckle to your cupid's bow.

he watched in awe, a sparkle in his empty pupils, a flare in the sea of vast darkness. his dick twitched in his pants as he lost himself in the moment, his fogged up yet crystal clear head morphed you into some kind of seductress, a succubus, he had no chance of getting out of whatever spell you put him under, not that he needed one. all he could do, all he wanted to do is succumb.

succumb he did when you pressed him against the front door of your apartment, grabbed him by the throat and took him for everything he was worth. you were nonstop from that moment on the couch all the way to your apartment in queens, hands exploring and lips touching, tasting, giving, taking, there was no moment of question. no time to waste, not a fact to be shared, just a carnal desire that poured out of himself and into you, into your veins, into the blood that shared a color with your lipstick smeared onto hongjoong’s jaw.

he smirked knowing he got what he wanted, knowing he always gets what he wants, he was just that kind of person. shrouded in luck, like he had a guardian angel who refused to leave his side. from where he’s been to what he’s done, there was no way he should be alive, the chances of survival for a guy like him are slim to none.

the first time was in the bathroom of that club, where he pushed you into a stall and bent you over the toilet, your hands gripping onto a wall that you were sure had never been cleaned. markings of sharpie covered every inch, lewd and crude sayings, initials in hearts, phone numbers of random people who wronged the person that wrote it. you took every inch of him proudly, lifted your leg onto the toilet seat, ushering him to hit deeper, to empty himself inside you.

you left that bathroom in heavy breaths and lust darkened eyes, only for the two of you to last one more drink and another key bump before you were below the ground, on the subway to your apartment.

you didn’t get any farther than the entryway where you grabbed him by the throat, ushering for him to give into you, a power he didn’t just give away to anyone. he chuckled darkly and switched your bodies quickly, pressing your face against the art covered wall instead of the front door, smacking your ass with a force that made you cry out. he knew what you were, he could see it when you were onstage, nothing but a pain slut that let him fuck you in one of the dirtiest bathrooms he’s ever seen.

a low laugh left his lungs when he felt your core, fingers slipping through your release and his own cum that you’d been saving for later. he was immediately on his knees, eating it out of you, tasting the two of you mixed into one. the second time was in that very entryway, where he took you against the wall once more, this time with a low dim light peeking through the windows and a clear scent of fresh laundry and vanilla floating through the space. much cleaner, much sweeter, the opposite of what the two of you had endured just an hour earlier.

he ended the night in your bed, where he took you for a third, fourth and fifth, neither of you sleeping a wink. with the sunrise coming in through your half open window, sounds of sirens and cars passed by, drifting through the translucent rose colored curtains making them ruffle and bend to the noise. you had a cigarette between your lips, a tray with four more parallel lines sitting at the foot of the bed. you were naked, your tattoos your only blanket, hongjoong the same beside you.

“can’t believe you’re a fucking freshman in college,” you laughed through the smoke leaving your lips, a saccharine sound mixed with the smell of tobacco and menthol, “please tell me you’ve at least turned nineteen.”

hongjoong nodded, letting his fingers continue to trail your thigh, tracing the outline of the dragon that was soaring through the skin of your hip, “i’ll be twenty in november.”

a lie, one he knew would be believed, one that allowed you to sigh out in relief. he’d slept with much older, your measly twenty two was nothing to him, just another thursday night after a show, another experience to add to his arsenal.

“you said you go to NYU right? what’s an NYU student doing in brooklyn?” hongjoong smiled at that, he loved when people knew absolutely nothing about it him, made assumptions based on one thing they’d heard. he could make up anything he wanted, he could be whoever he wanted to be, not that you’d ever find out the truth. you’d never hear from him again after he stepped foot onto the sidewalk outside, back to his dorm, back to his roommate who would be waiting to ask him a million questions about his excursion.

tonight he was hongjoong, the nineteen year old that’d fucked you five different times in nine different ways, snorted countless lines of blow and hungout with a band he knew would make it. he wasn’t eighteen year old student hongjoong who was going to NYU because his parents were pushing him into accomplishing something, anything, trying relentlessly to get him out of the city’s gutter.

“to be fair, we’re in queens,” he cracked a smile, the corner of his lips lifting, “i grew up in bushwick, i come whenever i can. got lots of friends that still live around here.”

he didn’t know why he was being honest, this was his favorite part. maybe a small part of him was tired of lying, even if he’d done it already, he was ready for truth, ready for it to be laid bare for him, ready for it to point him in yet another direction. he didn’t care which direction it would send him in from your dingy apartment in queens, he just hoped it was upward, to something better than what he came from.

“why aren’t you guys signed yet?” there it was, the question that’s been clawing at him all night, sat fresh on his mind even when he was buried inside of you. the one truth he wanted to know, not your name that he already couldn’t remember, your age that’d already become irrelevant, or your address that he’d never even learned.

you sighed again, running a hand through your hair, collapsing into the plush pillows beneath you, “a few agencies have tried, none have been worth it. contracts are too strict, we won’t get paid enough, the companies aren’t popular enough. yasu handles all of that, i’m just told what we do or what we don’t do.”

“so if the right label approached you, one with money and connections and a contract that was perfect, you’d sign with them?” hongjoong asked, letting his eyes flutter shut, not that he felt tired. he’d need at least twenty milligrams of valium for that and even then it probably wouldn’t lure him to sleep, just enough to take the edge off, to let his head lie still.

you laughed, a bitter chuckle, “like who? republic fucking records? we’re performing in run down clubs across the city, we have miles to go before an agency worth anything takes an interest in us.”

hongjoong smiled through his eyes that stayed closed, that same smile he wore last night, the one that was both wicked and knowing. he could see it in front of him, an idea, a dream, a career. if he didn’t feel like shit he’d call up his parents and thank them for sending him to NYU, thank them for the opportunity to do something right with his life. his roommate would get a kick out of this.

he sat up on the bed and leaned forward, pulling the silver platter on his lap. he picked up the dollar bill that was slowly losing its shape with every sniff and lifted it to his nose, railing two lines from the tray. he tilted his head back and shook it, giving one last sniff before he was off.

“i have class,” he said as he searched for his pants around your cluttered bedroom before remembering he’d undressed in the entryway. you sat up with wide eyes, blinking at his sudden departure after a night of wild sex and snorting all of your coke.

“wait,” you called after him as he nearly ran through the bedroom door, “i want to give you my number, call me if you ever want to come see our show again, or if you want to do this again.”

he smiled from the open door in which the frame towered over him, shooting you a finger that said wait before he went in search of his clothes, phone, and wallet. he returned and saved your number in his phone, leaving the contact name as tattoo girl. in the moment it’d seemed easiest to remember you by.

he never ended up calling you, never ended up seeing another show that you mentioned. he went back to his dorm, to his life, and changed his major with a speed he hadn’t experienced before, despite his whole life being quick. he ate quick, he thought quick, he grew up quick, he learned quick, he did everything at such a rate he’d never experienced whiplash. this was normal.

music technology classes were not easy, but he thought himself lucky for the brain he was born with, his ability to adapt. for once in his life hongjoong wasn’t just good at school, he was excelling.

the connections he formed, his ever growing ability to network himself, show off his extensive knowledge of music itself, its history, the music scene in the city. never in his life had he thought he was born for something, never thought he had a purpose, just thought of himself as an open minded creative person who loved a good time. as he got deeper into his major which he thankfully didn’t change again, he realized there was one thing that remained constant all throughout his life, one thing that stayed with him through every phase, got him through every hump in the road.

when he came home that morning with pupils swallowing his eye color whole and lungs that had no breath left in them, he told his roommate he was changing his major and mingi was relieved. he was relieved and grateful, smiling because the first friend he made at NYU was going to be beside him for more than just sleepless nights across the dorm, letting out a sigh he kept trapped in his lungs because now could keep a better eye on hongjoong. the night before he was worried out of his mind, even if he knew hongjoong was born and raised in the city, mingi was raised in south korea.

mingi was told since he first started mentioning new york city to his friends and family to be careful, he had all of the horror stories told to him in depth, used as a weapon to scare him out of coming to the states. he never thought twice about it until he got here, stood face to face with hongjoong, and learned every dirty secret he had to offer. then he believed the horror stories, he believed that the city’s wretched dark side could really kill someone dead, even hongjoong who had become a good friend to him.

that fear was short lived, it was cut short the moment hongjoong took him to his first show in brooklyn. hongjoong could see the excitement in his eyes, that same adrenaline rush hongjoong considered himself addicted to as he watched mingi snort his first line of blow. he felt prideful, like he’d taken mingi under his wing and rebirthed him into a weapon the city couldn’t touch, couldn’t harm. he offered mingi the city’s beauty, the bright lights of the buildings at night, the pleasure of a woman he’d just met mere minutes ago.

the two of them became a pair, and hongjoong had grown to love the friendship, love the closeness that came with it. he wasn’t used to sharing so much time with one other person, he kept to himself if he wasn’t with his group of friends, even when he still lived at home he didn’t see the need for having one person to put all of his trust into.

mingi taught him a lot of things, the first being how to keep his head on straight and screw it tight. he kept hongjoong grounded, kept him centered around his music, kept him looking forward and never backward. he kept hongjoong flowing, retelling stories of nights they’d gone out together when hongjoong was feeling himself hit a creative block. mingi pulled hongjoong out of his hole when he’d snorted one too many lines, he’d put him in the shower, force feed him valium like it was candy.

it wasn’t until hongjoong was sat on a wooden stool in the soundproof booth of his school’s recording studio two years later that he’d be reminded of you again. strumming along to into the void by black sabbath, a song he loved since he was young, getting frustrated when his fingers slipped up around the bridge, they always slipped up at the bridge — the chords were so close together, it was ironic that something which took speed would trip him up.

“joong!” mingi called from outside of the booth, turning the microphone on, ripping hongjoong from his frustrations. “i got accepted! you need to check your email now.”

hongjoong left the booth in a rush, swinging his guitar back into its stand haphazardly, pushing the microphone he was keeping close to his lap back into the open space of the recording booth. he grabbed his phone and opened the email, relief washing over him like the stream from his apartment’s moldy shower head when he read we have selected you to join republic records as a production intern for the spring term.

hongjoong looked to mingi with wide, disbelieving eyes, unable to form a single reason why one of the biggest record labels in the city would accept him, choose him. hongjoong had been more than proficient in his work, with his grades, with forming relationships with big names in the industry — but at the end of the day, when he looked at himself in the mirror, all he saw was the same sixteen year old boy from brooklyn who’s only future was spent on the sidewalks of manhattan, maybe a shelter if he was fortunate enough. not a cent to his name, barely any clothes on his back, spending his adult years asking faceless people for a couple dollars just to buy himself a burger.

it was his parents’ biggest fear, it kept his mother up all night in her queen sized bed, his father no doubt already passed out drunk beside her. she laid there with wide eyes listening to his snores, staring at her cracked ceiling praying for the day she gets to watch her son walk across that big stage, graduation cap flattening his shaggy haircut. she smiled at the thought, but the severity of the situation hit her much deeper, it wiped the smile right off her face. hongjoong was a wild card, she never knew what to do with him, how to keep him walking in a straight line, her last attempt was sending him to such a prestigious college. she begged him to see the value, see what she was sacrificing to send him there, see the desperation she slipped over her head like a uniform when hongjoong was at the ripe age of twelve.

“you’re in production?” mingi twisted his neck to look over hongjoong’s shoulder, the height difference making it easy for him, “i’m in artist relations.”

“what’s artist relations?” hongjoong asked while lifting a brow, looking up to the phone his lanky best friend held tight in his hand.

mingi moved the phone lower, closer to him, sharing the screen to read the email word for word, “interns work closely with signed artists to assist in their day-to-day needs, organizing promotional activities, tours, and managing communications between the artist and the label.”

hongjoong laughed at that, his head tipping back, his eyes fluttering shut in hysterics. mingi’s cheeks flushed, his mouth shut tight and lips lifting at the edges ever so slightly, a mixture of embarrassment and amusement. it took hongjoong a moment to get it together before he said, “so you’re someone’s personal assistant?”

“no!” mingi’s voice was raised, he took a breath, “yes, maybe, i guess so, whatever! i’m still interning at republic and a hierarchy is something to climb no matter where you start.”

hongjoong laughed again, clutching his stomach that had a slight ache in the pit then looked down to his lit up screen, “i’m assisting with music recording, mixing, and mastering. may help in studios, learning about the technical side of producing records, blah blah blah. i got the good one.”

“shut up,” mingi grumbled, locking his phone and shoving it in his pocket, “asshole, they're both good, i was excited. don’t ruin it.”

“i’m just fucking with you, ming, you should be excited. being a personal assistant means you get the inside scoop,” hongjoong smirks, “plus we can tell each other about our jobs.” he lifts his index finger, already thinking of what comes next, “we’re gonna learn every inch of that place and every job before we even get hired, we’ll be behind the big desk in no time.”

mingi nods as if hongjoong’s strategy had planted itself directly into his head through shared brain waves, “you’re right, you’re so right, holy shit you’re so right.”

hongjoong’s eyes go wide again, the realization settling in, “we’re interns at republic records.”

it brought him back to that night, you with your husky voice and tattooed legs and piercings that shone in the path of moonlight through your bedroom window, the cigarette you held between two dainty fingers … you that brought him here, you that handed him this idea along with four white lines on a silver platter.

pieces started falling into place, everything started to click, he remembered just a month ago he saw an advertisement for your band, a black piece of paper stuck to a light pole, performing at the red lion in greenwich village. he didn’t spare it a second thought, didn’t even process that he knew you when he saw it, too engrossed in how he was rushing to a class he was late for and the music in his headphones and the redbull he was juggling between his phone and laptop and keys.

he didn’t think much of it again until he was two months deep in his internship, walking through the dim hallways of republic records with two cups of coffee in his hands, one for himself and one for the producer he was working next to that day. he walked by one of the practice rooms, door shut with a square window in the center, he caught nothing but a glimpse of your hair but it was enough to make him stop in his tracks, to feel the coffee in the confines of their cups threaten to overflow their lids.

he stopped there for a moment, peered through the glass box, let his brain backtrack to that fall of two years ago. god, what the hell was your name again?

he couldn’t hear a note yet he longed for the main singer’s mellifluous voice to kiss his pierced ears, he could see you working the crowd in his memories when you were performing for nothing but a blank brown wall, he let his eyes drift to the green haired drummer. what could have been.

he pulled himself from the trance you had pulled him under again, much similar to when he first met you. hair cut shorter, edgier, more ink filling spaces in your soft skin that were empty the last time he saw you, much more clothing on your body this time around. at this point you must be twenty four, hongjoong himself just twenty one, just legal to drink in public, not that his age had ever stopped him before. it didn’t stop him from doing anything he wanted.

he kept walking, beckoning his legs to push one foot in front of the other before he arrived back at the studio he was in for the day. he felt cloudy, like he needed a line, something to pull him out of his head, but he needed to reminisce. he remembered your conversation even in his coked out state, the way you laughed at him for suggesting such a perfect label to exist, the way republic records slipped off your tongue like it was nothing but a pipe dream you stored in the darkest corners of your head.

hongjoong believed in fate, he always told himself there was no other reason for his life to be the way it is. hongjoong had experienced plenty, he’d woken up on too many stoops in neighborhoods he started the night across from, had one too many syringes full of narcan shot in his arm when his cocaine was cut with fentanyl. he’d survived to tell the tale, not just survived but he kept living, what else did he have to thank?

sheer luck, a guardian angel, fate, whatever it was he was thankful it stayed with him for so long, perched on his shoulder when he’d do the same things that made the front page of the new york times. there were too many lines in his life that crossed, too many threads that webbed for there not to be some external force, something he didn’t have a hand in. when yours and his threads crossed, got tangled that one night in the pits of brooklyn, he couldn’t help but think that the two years he’d spent his life up to this moment was the untangling.

as mingi stood in their shared apartment later that night, telling him about his day, talking about the band he was assigned to, hongjoong couldn’t believe his ears when the word clotho left mingi’s lips. out of all the interns, all the employees in that massive building, all of the record labels in the city, you signed to the agency he worked for and mingi was assigned to assist you.

he let him speak, let him complain about listening to your harsh demands, your continual need to practice the same song until they got it right, the way you flirted with mingi and how mingi ate it up. he let mingi speak with open ears, normal sized pupils and a nasty drip sliding down the back of his throat before he had enough. pulling the bag of his coke from his pocket he grabbed his favorite tray he kept right on the coffee table, spread the snow and cut it with a card from his wallet and sniffed. no dollar bill, no straw he sliced in half, just a finger pressed to his pierced nostril leaving the other one raw and full of blow.

“christ, joong, it’s eight at night on a monday,” mingi shook his head at his friend, “do you really need to be railing lines right now?”

“i fucked her,” hongjoong admitted plainly, crossing his right leg back over his left knee.

“what? who?” mingi asked, his eyebrows reaching his hairline, leaning over in the recliner in their shared living room.

“the guitarist from clotho, the one who’s name apparently neither of us know,” hongjoong chuckled before shaking out his arms, shaking off the discomfort of a possession he had no right feeling, “i fucked her.”

mingi sat there, blinking, not a word leaving his lips for moments before his brain turned back on, “i won’t- i didn’t know- when did you even?”

hongjoong waved him off with ring clad fingers before standing, walking towards his bedroom, “do what you want with her, just figured i’d let you know.”

hongjoong never had a girlfriend, a boyfriend, a relationship that lasted longer than one drunken night. even when he was younger he’d never experienced the puppy love all of his peers got themselves into, the only desire he felt was the rush of getting away with something, he’s craved that since before he can remember. possession wasn’t an emotion he was used to, one he rarely experienced at all, he couldn’t pinpoint why that spark of control showed itself when talking to mingi of all people.

he left your apartment in a race that night, he couldn’t of cared less about you in the moment, he never thought about you again until two months ago, over two years after he slept with you in the first place. he thought you special maybe, a fucked up train of thought when he couldn’t even remember your name, special despite how utterly ordinary that night was. special because he had you to thank for the path he was on now, what he's accomplished since that night with you. maybe it was gratitude, adoration, maybe just someone to look up to if he considered your success comparable to his own, he didn’t know and it was driving him insane.

his night with you was nothing out of the ordinary, he did nothing with you that he hadn’t done with tens of other people, yet the pedestal still remains tall. he tried to think about it in his sleepless night yet he got absolutely nowhere, no resolution, no explanation for the whirlwind he’d put himself through over hours. he sat up in his bed and sighed, a cold sweat lingering on his tanned skin, then he grabbed the guitar from beside his bed.

he let the feeling consume him that night, let it pour out into every note his painted fingers strummed along the guitar. as the sun peeked through his bedroom window the next morning he decided that one night of thinking was all he could handle, he chose to let the feelings be what they are and put them on the old metal rack along with his guitar.

he didn’t see you through that window to the practice room again, and he’d purposely walked by plenty of times in the weeks to follow. coming into mid march, for some reason the company was busy. hongjoong was keeping up, of course he was, juggling the workload from the producer he worked with and then everything else that was added to his plate by numerous other producers of the company. hongjoong was famous in that building, he was a dream intern, every person of a higher rank in that building wanted him for something.

hongjoong loved it, he loved the attention, he loved being depended on, he loved being busy most of all. reaching deadlines, bouncing back and forth between different artists and their own genre of music, hongjoong was nothing but a sponge in the ocean that was republic records. he soaked everything in, he learned everything, he remembered everything, he loved that his extensive knowledge was only ranging farther.

when he woke up that morning to the sunrise and a clear head after playing acoustic versions of rock songs all fucking night, he did exactly what he told himself he was going to. even if he wanted to think about you again he didn’t have a moment to himself to be able to, his internship was taking up so much of his personal time most days his homework wasn’t even a priority. the internship told him when he started to let them know if the workload was too much, if it was affecting his studies, but in what world would he do that? after leaving his bubble of adolescence of being a regular college student and entering the adult world, his career, why would school come first? he was already doing it, already loved by so many people, it was only right that hongjoong would fixate on what was working.

“we’re recording today,” jag, the producer he worked with, didn’t even have the decency to greet hongjoong with a hello. so backed up, so overworked, jag looked like he hadn’t slept in three days.

“with who?” hongjoong paid no mind to his unpleasant greeting, setting a coffee down right in front of him. jag’s eyes widened, a sparkle shining through the deepest of browns, he immediately brought the cup up to his chapped lips. jag’s favorite, this hongjoong knew by now, he also knew how jag worked, how to put him in a better mood even on his worst days.

“clotho,” jag said after a refreshing sigh, pleased with the hot drink he was gifted, “they’re finishing up their album, they’ve been working with max for majority of the recording. max called out sick, so they’re with us.”

hongjoong’s eyebrows raised, his mouth opening ever so slightly. jag caught on to the surprise, much like how observant hongjoong was, jag also paid a lot of attention to the boy with the sand colored mullet. jag snickered, “you have the same look on your face as when you slept with anitta and we had her in the booth the next day.”

“you know me too well,” hongjoong sat down in the chair beside him and let out a noise of relief as he got comfortable, cracking his knuckles as he spoke, “i fucked the guitarist.”

jag laughed, a belly laugh from the pit of his stomach, “which one?”

“the lead guitarist, the one covered neck to toe in tattoos,” hongjoong brings his attention to the monitor, an entirely different project jag was working on spread across the screen.

jag rubbed his face with his hands, “do we need to get every artist an STD test? i’m starting to get scared you’ll cause an outbreak.”

hongjoong rolled his eyes before responding with a playful smile, “you know i’m clean.”

their small talk didn’t get much further before your band was barreling through the studio, yawns and huffs of air being thrown about the space. hongjoong kept it professional, he kept his focus on the mixing board, the monitor, pulling up the file to the tracks that they were working on that day.

you looked… tired. no makeup, guitar case strapped to your back, tattoos hiding under the cotton of your sweats. it was early, the company had them working not just at dawn but also on the weekend, two things that weren’t normal for scheduling or recording. you didn’t notice him yet, or you were ignoring him, hongjoong wasn’t sure but he also didn’t care. he needed to get you in that booth, get the recording done as fast as possible so he could meet his friends at baby’s all right later.

at the start of the first track on the album they’d record that day, hongjoong knew the moment you saw him, the second you recognized his pierced nose and shaggy hair that was much longer now than the last time you’d seen him. he could see it in the way your eyes widened and the pause you took before you took your pick from your lips, he watched the gears turn in your head, he watched every memory play out in your eyes from that night two years ago. jag seemed to notice too by the way his palm slapped hongjoong’s knee under the desk, a breath of amusement leaving his lips.

your movements were slowed, it took you entirely too long to shift the microphone so it stood correctly in front of you, but you shook yourself out of your thoughts as the rhythm guitarist played the first few clean, arpeggiated chords. this song… hongjoong recognized it immediately, the memories once again flooding back to him.

once you got through the haunting intro, through the slow burn build into heavier, distorted riffs, hongjoong thought that you might be a siren, too. instead of a melodic voice, it was the resonance you played through the strings under your calloused fingertips hooking him, once again pulling him into a trance, a spell you weren’t even conscious of casting. when it got to your solo in the middle of the song, backed up with an underlying chord progression from the rhythm guitarist and a deep bass line, he could feel it from head to toe. the entrapment, the sight in front of him that he couldn’t bear to look away from. the back up instruments set a platform, a center for you to take the stage in the small recording booth, for the focus of the listener to hear you, focus on you.

he had a job. he had buttons to press, things to adjust, he had to listen with an assessing ear, he had to snap out of it. he watched as your chipped nail polish slipped from string to string, the other hand clenched tightly around your guitar pick. he watched as you nodded along to the drums, eyebrows furrowed in focus of following the mid tempo groove, listening to the song as much as you were playing it. he knew that feeling, that multitasking, listening and doing and following and evaluating all at once.

he blinked a few times before directing his focus to the monitor instead of watching you shred in the booth, he fell in and out of focus for the entire session between his eyes being locked on you and making sure your song was being recorded properly. he thought he’d let go of what he felt, laid his feelings to rest in his favorite instrument beside his bed, but as he watched you strum along to the fourth track they’d record that day he decided maybe there was a reason your paths crossed once again.

just like that one night spent with him and his music, the feelings he didn’t want to address, he spiraled into yet another torment of not being able to process anything. all he had was this unidentifiable emotion, a pang in his chest, he didn’t know what to do with it or how to address it properly. he looked at from all sides, contradicted himself, tried to unpack it for exactly what it was, but he still felt himself unable to move from square one.

by the end of the session hongjoong’s brain was on backwards, he was barely of help to jag the entire time you were in the booth. jag gave him a pass even if he was entirely confused as to why hongjoong was acting so fucking weird, he’d never acted so out of it, even during the session with anitta. jag chopped it up to the fact that hongjoong was probably overworked much like himself, even if something tugged at him, telling him there was more going on in hongjoong’s head than just exhaustion.

the rest of the session went a lot easier than hongjoong thought it would based off of the insight he’d gotten from mingi, but he guessed he shouldn’t have assumed how you’d act from just one conversation that was ages ago. mingi hadn’t mentioned you or the band again since that night, deeming it a sensitive topic, one he’d like to avoid since him and hongjoong kept the people they fucked very separate, except for those they shared. you were rather quiet towards hongjoong, only what was necessary for getting the recording done, he couldn’t pull anything from you except for eyes boring into the back of his head from across the room and a short snap of a complaint when he noticed a bleed from the microphone.

hongjoong was exhausted beyond belief by eight o’clock yet he still had an entire night ahead of him. he packed up his bag and slung it over his shoulder, relieved he was about to go drink away the new emotions he’d encountered.

“you alright?” jag asked, a weird question coming from jag who usually kept their conversations light hearted, he rarely picked hongjoong apart.

“‘m fine, just tired,” hongjoong waved him off with a smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. jag lifted an eyebrow, too curious but too scared to ask. him and hongjoong’s relationship was specific, a teacher and his student, despite the not always innocent conversation that sometimes felt like it was between two friends. he didn’t find it his place to intervene on the conversation that’s been going on for hours in hongjoong’s head, better to let hongjoong come to him if need be.

“see you monday,” was all jag called after hongjoong who had already left the studio’s door, an echo through the heavy wood.

hongjoong didn’t expect to turn and see you pressed up against the wall, guitar encased at your side, the sleeves of your sweatshirt rolled up to your elbows. you smiled, an eerie smile, one that told hongjoong everything he was feeling earlier was about to be intensified, amplified, much like the sound of your instrument.

“you didn’t think to tell me you worked here?” you tilted your head, the smile of a cheshire cat sitting wide on your cheekbones.

“and how would i do that?” hongjoong grabbed your guitar case from beside the wall and began walking, ushering you to follow along. if you were going to talk, it should be away from jag’s curious ears.

“maybe make use of the phone number you’ve had in your phone for two years?” it sounded like a question but hongjoong assumed it was more of an instruction, a curious sentence that left much to be dissected.

hongjoong laughed a soft chuckle, “i didn’t think it was necessary.”

“well that’s rude,” you scoffed, grabbing your guitar case from his hand and swinging it over your own shoulder, “this is the last place i would’ve expected to see you.”

“and i feel the opposite,” he turned to look at you, almost his height in your platform sneakers, “you laughed at me when i knew exactly where you’d end up.”

“ah, buttering me up now, are we?” you smirked, “didn’t know you thought so highly of clotho.”

“why else would i sleep with the lead guitarist?” hongjoong joked, his own smile growing wide, the fog he felt in the studio was long gone by the time you reached the end of the hallway. entering the space just before the elevator to take them down to the lobby, hongjoong pressed the button and faced you.

“that’s fucked up,” you said between your giggles, “you wanna be my groupie now?” you shifted your weight to one foot, making yourself just smaller than the man before you. “i’ll allow it, i guess.”

“who said i wanted to do it again?” hongjoong’s mischievous smile was permanent across his cheeks now and you gasped, slapping his bicep. the elevator dinged and opened quickly, an empty dimly lit space demanding you to continue the conversation.

“what are you doing later?” you asked as you stepped inside, leaning against the bar that was fused against the wall opposite of hongjoong.

“going to baby’s all right with a couple friends,” hongjoong answered plainly, ignoring the voice tugging at him to ask you to come with.

“got room for one more?” you beat him to it, you’ve been bold since the day he met you, he didn’t know why it took him by surprise.

he stuttered a bit in his agreement and you told him to meet you at your apartment, a new one in brooklyn, not the one you used to occupy in queens. he didn’t have the strength to tell you he grew up in the same neighborhood, he knew your address like the back of his hand, that this is yet another thread sewn into the web. hongjoong believed in fate and he believed in signs, it seemed that every one was pointing in your direction. he trusted the signs, trusted in luck, trusted in fate, trusted in whatever kept itself on his shoulder that this path he was taking was the right one.

he never cared much for right and wrong when it came to anything, especially entertaining the idea that his own actions would change how his life would turn out. hongjoong never had any goals or expectations for his life, he assumed how he’d turn out before the age of fifteen, he was careless unless it benefited him to put in an effort for anything yet he never considered that might put him on the wrong path, it just was what it was. from stealing a twenty dollar bill from his mother’s second hand coach bag to working alongside one of the most famous music producers in the city, before two years ago when hongjoong actually felt that he was moving upward, he never took into consideration that maybe his actions did have consequences, maybe he chose what path his life went in by the smallest of decisions.

he showed up to your apartment late, much to your dismay, even if you were also late yourself. you took about ten more minutes after he’d buzzed up to your apartment to let you know he’d arrived, leaving him to his own devices on your stoop. when you’d finally walked out of your front door hongjoong’s right nostril twitched, he was used to only one thing giving him this kind of rush, this sensation he felt at every nerve ending. you were fucking breathtaking with your microscopic skirt and shirt so small he didn’t know if you could consider it anything other than a bra. makeup dark and sultry, lips so red he had flashbacks to when he scrubbed smudges of it off of the base of his neck. your hair was down and straightened, framing your cheekbones so beautifully, the shadows it created made you look like a creature of the night in the most dangerous way.

he felt like he was looking at you for the first time all over again, the last two years had done you well, all of the coke and drinking and partying hadn’t aged you in the slightest. it was rare that excessive consumption didn’t affect one's appearance, most of his hometown friends had begun to resemble zombies years ago, you seemed to be immortal. the walk to the bar was short, less than ten blocks away, and hongjoong was grateful. he was using tonight for release, he needed to let go of everything he’s been responsible for, take a night to forget everything and just be. of course, out of all nights, someone who he worked with just a few hours ago would be accompany him, but at least it’s you.

“have you been to this place?” you asked, the innocence in your voice contradicting the heaviness of your boots hitting the concrete.

hongjoong nodded, his hands shoved in his pockets, “many times.”

“we performed here a couple months ago i think, i don’t really remember it much, i got hammered as soon as we got off the stage,” you were talking mindlessly, just sparking up a conversation so you weren’t walking silently beside each other.

“it’s cute, less grungy and dirty and more..” he racked his brain for a way to describe it, falling into a momentary silence, “picturesque for the instagram models of the city, i guess?”

you laughed at that, “then i’ll put your hands to good use and you can be my personal photographer for the night, my followers will be grateful.”

hongjoong’s lips grew into a smirk, “there are better ways to put my hands to use.”

“we still have a whole night to get through before i can attest to that,” you raised a finger towards him in protest, your own smile growing, the two of you falling into easier conversation once the flirting started up again.

“we’ve only walked a block, we can easily turn around,” hongjoong came to a stop, looking back to the stretch of ground they had just hiked, eyes full of amusement yet he was also dead serious. there are plenty ways to let off steam.

you rolled your eyes, “normally i’d agree, but i’m in the mood to party and if you’re anything like you were two years ago i don’t think you’re capable of a quickie.”

the two of you fell into stride again, “i can say with confidence that i am not fond of quickies.”

you brought up work after that, talked about the album, compared recording with hongjoong and jag to max. hongjoong half tuned out at that, he answered where he needed to but he was over the work talk, he needed to get to that bar now.

you met up with his hometown friends once you got there, people you slightly recognized from backstage two years ago, but there were a few hongjoong had to introduce you to. once you mentioned clotho you had more to talk about with the group of people, being the lead guitarist of a band signed by republic records was always a great conversation starter.

hongjoong kept his tab open, let you order whatever you wanted on it for the night, to you that was an invitation to get fucked up as much as it was payback for snorting all of your coke two years ago. you were intrigued at this point, not just by hongjoong himself but about what was going on in his head. you’d assessed the situation while you were getting ready as much as you wanted to leave it at a free night of partying, but you couldn’t shake the curiosity that came along with the presence of kim hongjoong.

after he had left your apartment two years ago in such a rush, you’d hoped he’d call you for at least two weeks after. even a text, whatever you could get from him was enough, because you’d never had a night like that with anyone, the sex being something that no other person you’d invited to your bed could compare to. everything about him physically, the shared interests, the banter, the easy conversation. you were coked out of your mind yet you still remember every detail of that night, even almost a thousand days later hongjoong had left his mark on you without it being intentional.

then you saw him again, and he was working for you. he was sitting behind the mixing board with headphones on, looking unbothered as ever, you wondered if he even remembered you, if that night stayed with him the way it stayed with you. once your eyes met and you could feel the knowing shared from a single, too long stare through the glass, you had to talk to him, had to pick his brain, had to insert yourself into his life like what you shared wasn’t just one night so you could do it again.

you took his invitation and drank to your heart’s content, and he did, too. both of you ended up in the cramped crowd of the DJ, so unlike hongjoong, very much like you, drowning in a swamp of sweaty bodies. everyone was jumping, arms swinging to the beat, phones with flashes on all pointed towards the stage. hongjoong was gone as he planned, his mind forgetting everything except for the beautiful woman beside him, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. watching you as you jumped in the air, swaying to the music, everything bouncing to the bass, he was getting impatient and his dick could feel it.

he needed a bump to take the edge off, reset him so he didn’t rush you out of your fun, he enjoyed seeing you so carefree. in your monologue about your album you’d seem stressed, hongjoong assumed you needed to get away for a night just as much as he did.

“i need a bump,” he yelled over the music, grabbing your forearm that you kept at your side to get your attention, the other one hung above your head.

“me too!” you yelled back, looking up to him with those big doe eyes, there goes his reset. he didn’t think you’d come with, too wrapped up in the set the DJ was playing, but he stupidly thought wrong – you were just like him, after all. your hand latched onto his and he lead you out of the crowd, through the crowded bar, and then outside to the sidewalk of broadway. he nodded his head to the bouncer and wrapped around the building that still had a line outside the door to somewhere quieter, where people would be less likely to interrupt you.

“joong, i think we could’ve stayed in front, it’s not like he cares,” you pointed out, referring to the bouncer as you finally turned the corner, pulling your box of cigarettes from your purse.

he pulled the baggie from his pocket along with his keys, splitting them until he found his apartment key that had old coke lodged into the rivets of the metal, “excuse me for not wanting to share.”

you giggled, stumbling a little bit over your feet when you tried to light the cigarette, “wanna go soon?”

he looked up to you with eyebrows raised as he brought the key up to his nose, “yeah? you ready?”

“want you already, tired of waiting,” your legs instinctively crossed, thighs pressing together as you pulled from the cigarette, the tip burning a bright orange.

his smile returned, the devilish one that he seemed to only wear around you, “what? you don’t wanna party anymore? that’s the only reason we’re here, baby.”

your thighs flexed below your skirt at his words as he brought the key up to your nose after your exhale of smoke, smirking as you sniffed, “don’t call me baby unless you’re fucking me against the wall.”

he laughed at your body reacting to his words, something that came so naturally to him throwing you for a loop, the thought crossing his mind just for a moment that maybe he should’ve done this a lot sooner. he let you burn down half the cigarette before he was feeling the same level of impatience and you were starting to look even sexier, the rush of the bump coursing through his blood and sending all of it straight to his dick.

“let’s go say bye and then i’ll fuck you stupid at home, no bathroom this time,” he grabbed your hand again instinctively, leading you back inside the club, letting you throw the still lit cigarette to the busy street.

he found his friends quick and said bye even quicker, his pants started tightening the moment you crossed your legs and they weren’t getting any baggier as time went on. the walk back to your apartment reminded him of the subway ride from the last time, each block you walked had you pressed up on a random stoop, hongjoong’s tongue in your mouth and hand sliding farther and farther up your skirt with each stop. you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other, too needy, too impatient, a feeling you kept passing back and forth through spit and moans on brooklyn doorsteps.

you didn’t let lust take over in the entryway this time, hongjoong quickly learned this apartment wasn’t just your own but instead shared. a man’s jacket sat hung on the coat rack on the foyer, three pairs of men’s shoes shuffled about the floor. that possessiveness returned, coating a thick layer over him before he looked up. your apartment was massive, no way you were affording this on your own even in brooklyn, maybe you had two roommates. the apartment was decorated less cozy than the last time he was here, more like your band’s style, rough and dirty and dim. it didn’t smell of vanilla but instead mahogany, a hint of bourbon, so much more masculine than he’d expected.

hongjoong’s gut twisted with the information and he pushed it down, ignored it, pretended you shared the space with a ghost instead as you lead him through the apartment and to your room quickly, pushing him against the door the second you heard the latch enter the door frame. you were on your knees in seconds, not wasting any time, only enhancing hongjoong’s need to have control as you unbuckled his belt and pulled his jeans down.

“been dreaming of having this dick again for years,” you mumbled absent mindedly as you finally got him bare, naked and leaking, eyes wide and blown not just from the coke.

“should’ve came and got it then,” your revelation didn’t sink in, didn’t seem to click in hongjoong’s brain, too fucked up to think of anything other than fucking your throat as he finally got the wet heat of your mouth around him.

your nails clawed at the skin of his thighs as you bobbed your head, taking him deeper with each stroke, gagging yourself but pushing through nonetheless. hongjoong had his fingers tied in your hair, the back of his head pressed against the door, low groans leaving his lips with each tighten of your throat.

“so fucking good, missed that mouth,” drawled out of his lips as you worked him faster, wetter, your saliva beginning to run down his thighs. he loved it messy, dirty, you were taking him in his favorite way. he was in heaven, but the impatience was only growing. he needed you loud, screaming, cumming around his dick over and over again.

“should’ve came and got it then,” you shot back as you pulled off of him with a pop, catching your breath. tears laid in your lash line, lipstick so smudged and faded hongjoong wondered if it made a ring around the base of him.

“on the bed,” he ordered before you had the chance to take him in your mouth again and you were on your feet in a second, ripping your clothes off before you nearly jumped on the bed, greeting him with all of your limbs planted on the mattress on all fours.

“impatient,” he mumbled as he undressed himself, crawling onto the bed behind you, leaving a rough smack against your ass.

you moaned in response as your body jerked forward, legs spreading further in response. he loved that about you, the pain slut that lived inside you even if you tried to put up a dominant front. you weren’t shy about what you wanted, what you needed from him, always so responsive. maybe you were his favorite.

he slipped inside you with ease, you were wet enough to take him, you’d been waiting for this for hours. he set a brutal pace immediately, pounding into you leaving you a loud, crying mess. it wasn’t long before your arms gave out below you, sending your face flying into the comforter, definitely leaving streaks of black from your eye makeup. hongjoong couldn’t wait to see the mess you’d made.

“such a perfect pussy, like it was made for me,” his voice was slurred and low, close to babbles as he spoke deliriously between thrusts, he felt fucked out too, entranced by your pussy that was sucking him in.

“‘t was, it is, it's yours,” your voice matched his, cheek pressed to the mattress, one hand clawing behind yourself and another at the sheets to grab something, anything for leverage, “don’t stop, so good.”

he didn’t indulge in your grabs as he felt himself getting close, he definitely wasn’t lasting as long as he wanted to, but after a small break and another line he’d be roaring to go again. he wrapped an arm around your torso, middle finger finding your clit, circling it steadily. you cried out, jerking against him, thighs starting to shake under him.

“gonna cum!” you cried out, the strain in your voice let him know the tears that were in your eyes earlier had fell. he kept at his rhythm, fucking into you at the same pace of your circles and you tightened around him, letting go, crying out with no remorse for anyone who might also be here. as you grabbed at his hand and forced it off of you he let himself focus on his own orgasm, fucking back into you at the pace he knew would have him letting go in seconds.

“inside, joong, please,” you begged, voice rough and raspy, not giving him the chance to ask you where you wanted him. he indulged, emptying himself inside you with a groan, stilling as he leaned over the two koi fish swimming up your back.

your legs gave out after he pulled out, falling flat against your stomach, legs still twitching against the cotton. you moaned at the emptiness, the release, and hongjoong laid himself beside you. you stayed in silence for minutes, breaths of air occupying the air, the only thing you could hear in your bedroom. you had 80s thrash metal posters all over your walls, different paintings, things he recognized from your old room. it made him smile, knowing he was back here again, a different apartment yet the things he pointed out last time were still here. two years have gone by yet some things just don’t change.

“gonna have to show me your place next time,” you finally spoke, turning your head to face him, pulling your arms under your face to rest on.

“next time?” hongjoong asked, raising an eyebrow, “what makes you so confident that there’ll be a next time?”

you rolled your eyes, “you have no choice, there’s no way in hell i’m letting you get away from me again. and you’re putting your number in my phone before you go.”

you didn’t know that he had every intention of seeing you again, of showing up whenever you called, of doing whatever the hell you wanted him to whenever you wanted him to do it. he didn’t know that those calls would come quicker than he thought, he’d take you time and time again, these visits becoming more frequent the more time you spent together. he decided the feelings he harbored didn’t need to be unpacked, he could leave them unaddressed if that meant he could see you, be with you, get himself inside you after a long day. for the months to follow he stood by that, he didn’t think much of your relationship other than the fact that you had one, unlabeled and undisclosed.

he left your apartment the next morning slowly, much unlike last time, almost as if he didn’t want to leave. but you called him later that night, asked him if he wanted to come over, and of course he said yes, he hadn’t said no to that question yet. he found out you lived with two of your bandmates, yasu, the leader and the green haired drummer he learned was noa. they were both just as cool as you, that much he knew from the recording session you’d spent together, and hongjoong got along with them just as well as he got along with you.

he’d spent many nights partying with you and your band after shows or on random weeknights, just as much as you spent time with hongjoong and his friends from brooklyn, or even nights with just himself and mingi. you got to know each other on a level he hadn’t expected you to, one he didn’t necessarily allow you to, including that you found out his real age, you didn’t speak to him for an entire night of drinking after he’d told you the truth. you let it go later that night when he had you pressed against the wall, outside, behind the bar you were at, fingers scissoring into you for ignoring him, denying you release for the following hours to come.

hongjoong was at all of your recording sessions, he helped with marketing your band, helped other interns and even your manager with scheduling performances, interviews, you started to bleed into every part of his life, every aspect of his job. you found out about his laziness with schoolwork, you denied him the pleasure of being inside you until he got his shit together before the semester ended, it was a long two weeks for him, his fist and his coke dealer.

hongjoong was enamored by you, your lifestyle, your entire being. he didn’t ever think about what you were, he kept his thoughts about your relationship very surface level, terrified as to what would happen if he looked any deeper than that. he didn’t even take the time to consider whether or not you were exclusive, he didn’t let himself think about what you’d look like under someone else and how that made him feel, he didn’t need to. neither of you had any time, you were always with him, he was always with you if he wasn’t busy with the company or what was left of his junior year, you were too wrapped up in one another to think about anyone else.

somehow hongjoong was one of the last people to find out about your first tour, a quick four months across north america over the summer, ranging from june to september. he was ecstatic when he was told by his superior, he couldn’t wait to talk to you about it, the celebratory party to follow, just the fact that you were growing, making it just like he knew you would.

the label had you in a quick meeting when he found out, thirty minutes you spent inside the room with frosted glass windows, hongjoong spent his lunch break waiting just outside the door. the more time he spent tapping his foot, bouncing his knee, the more his brain started to think. you’d known about this for a month now, sitting on the information, not sharing it with him when he thought you shared everything. it became the longest thirty minutes of his life, he hadn’t felt this way in a long time, the drop of his stomach was such a rare occurrence he couldn’t remember five other times it’s ever happened to him. why hadn’t you told him sooner?

it terrified him, enough to leave his spot outside the door, to go all the way outside the building until he was greeted with the scent of summer in manhattan. he paced up and down the length of the building, racking his brain for why this was happening now, after he’d spent so much time with you, after he’d gotten completely comfortable around you, after he’d sank way too fucking deep. why hadn’t you told him sooner? it was as if his world was closing in on him, he hadn’t even felt this way when he was on the brink of consciousness before narcan was shot into his bloodstream, he’d never felt an attachment to someone let alone having it on the brink of being ripped away from him. this was betrayal.

it was only four months, but that was almost double the time you’d actually spent together. he felt himself walking on a road the past two months, a tunnel that had something unknown at the end, something totally new to him. he allowed it, he was blissfully ignoring his discomfort, the unknown, embracing this new type of relationship, this type of closeness with someone. he’d only gotten this close with mingi, only just allowed that type of friendship, he hadn’t let anyone else in since then, not even jag who he spent most of his time with other than you and mingi. he wouldn’t allow himself to bleed so freely, to show himself so naked, to give anyone else the opportunity to know him or hurt him. he kept everyone at arm's length for a reason.

hongjoong assumed this was the end of whatever was perched on his shoulder as he looked up to the clear, bright sky beyond the buildings, that was the only explanation he could muster up. he said goodbye, he thanked it for being with him all this time, for keeping a watchful eye, keeping him above the water. he wished it well.

he sniffed a bump and walked back inside the building with a distant cloud looming over him, a stoic look to his face, a carelessness that draped over him like your bedsheets in the early hours of the morning. he wouldn’t let you see him in such a state, you’d seen enough of him, more than you were ever supposed to.

hongjoong has never believed in regret, he’s a firm believer that everything happens for a reason, everything you go through is to teach you something. from overdosing on more than one occasion, it taught him to not do someone else’s coke, to know his dealer on a personal level, to know what his drugs were cut with. from disappointing his parents time and time again, it taught him to get sneakier, not give them hopes that he could shatter. from turning in weeks worth of homework late and only just passing his last semester of his junior year, it taught him to stay on top of his studies or he could easily lose everything he’s worked for. from sleeping with the lead guitarist of a random band in brooklyn and ending up an intern at republic records, it taught him that purpose and opportunities are everywhere if you’re keeping an eye out for them. from getting into something that’s the closest thing to a romantic relationship he’d ever experienced with the woman of his dreams, it taught him that if you leave your feelings exposed, someone is able to betray them, take them in their hands and toy with them, crush them if they wanted to.

he thought himself naïve. he wouldn’t allow it to happen again.

with a quick fifteen minutes and still not a word to you, he put his walls back up, higher than they’d ever been before, he was sina, rose and maria. he was aurelian when he walked straight past you in the lobby, hadrian when he walked past your bandmates who whipped their heads around to watch him walk to the elevator, jericho when he slipped inside the thankfully open door. he went back to the studio where jag was waiting for him, who playfully asked him if he was fucking his girlfriend in the bathroom and if that’s why he was late.

hongjoong snapped, told him to fuck off and jag listened. he didn’t ask any questions for the rest of the session, they went through the motions, got their workload finished for the day and went their separate ways. jag knew, of course jag knew, jag knew hongjoong like the back of his hand by now. since january, five months the two have been a pair, close without being close, jag is an observant man and hongjoong is not good at hiding his emotions.

hongjoong didn’t answer your calls, didn’t answer your incessant rings of his doorbell, ignored your begs at the door of the recording studio, it didn’t take long until everything stopped. you got on that bus headed straight to florida and he couldn’t stop the slip, the easy slide of becoming the eighteen year old version of himself again.

he turned his brain off outside of the music he made, the paintings he created, the drawings that now littered even the floor of his bedroom. the label was busy, he immersed himself in his work, he didn’t even have school to keep him occupied until august, he let every ounce of his energy go into republic records and substances. after work he was in the pits of brooklyn, seeing every show he could, in every club in the city, taking every drug he could get his hands on. his friends were happy to have him back, to have the fun hongjoong in the mix for their benders, another body to sleep with at the end of the night.

mingi forced him out of it before school started up again, telling him to get his shit together or he’d really lose everything this time. hongjoong was malleable by now, brain so fried from his summer that he just nodded at mingi and tried to set himself up. mingi helped him, basically set hongjoong up himself, enrolled him in his senior year and chose his classes. hongjoong didn’t care, he wished he could do it himself, wished he could think for longer than two minutes without your name crossing his mind. for someone who couldn’t remember your name for the life of him, it was the only thing he could think now, it wouldn’t leave him the fuck alone.

at this point hongjoong thought you a phantom, that night he saw you as a creature of the night would really come true — you invaded his dreams, his nightmares, his trips when he dropped acid. you were everywhere, you were everything, he didn’t know how he could ever come back from this, he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to.

as he sat on the balcony of his apartment in mid august with a joint between his fingers, hours after vomiting up the oxy one of his friends had slipped him, he decided he had enough.

hongjoong is a lot of things. he’s obsessive, he’s a wild card, he’s an addict, he’s a hard worker, he’s a partier.

but first and foremost, hongjoong is a creator.

he creates art, he creates music, he writes, he draws, he paints. he recites songs from memory, he plays them on the guitar after hearing them just once, hongjoong is gifted. hongjoong created himself, he created this life, he created every path he’s ever walked on. fuck luck and fuck fate, hongjoong created every situation he’s ever been in, created every opportunity for himself, created the name that gets passed through every ear of republic records.

hongjoong created himself, and he’d burn the world down before someone could ever take that away from him. by september he’d become a junior producer, crossing the line of intern to employee in just nine months, faster than anyone else in republic record’s history.

he just hoped his resolve stayed intact when you finally stepped off that tour bus and walked back into republic records, ready to begin recording your band’s second album.

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barbiexgirl · 26 days ago

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Anorexia is the patriarchy’s perfect way to make you lobotomize yourself.

It puts the blame on you, you’re weak for letting the standards break you and you’re doing it to yourself. No one forced you to starve right? Those beauty standards are coming back for a reason. If this is your first run with eating disorders let me tell you you’re just as lifeless as a woman who went through lobotomy. I wasn’t able to study, I lost all my friends and I wasn’t able to enjoy a single thing in life. I was full of rage and hatred towards the world and myself but nothing else.

I struggled my whole life, thanks to my mom I got the “Eastern European special” growing up. I developed anorexia when I was 11.

“I wish you had your dad’s blond hair and blue eyes like your sister. You should dye your hair. You look better than your other sister tho, she just looks too much like her dad. (She has a different dad.)”

“Your sister is so much taller than you.”

“I was only 45kgs when I was pregnant with you.”

“YOU BETTER EAT SOMETHING, WHAT ARE PEOPLE GOING TO SAY ABOUT ME IF YOU DIE YOU STUPID BITCH???”

Girlie even kept the receipts, and showed me that she really was that thin. She ate less than what a toddler needs her whole life, she wrecked her hormones and her body by the time she was 45 and let me tell you she didn’t stay beautiful. This “slavic doll” trend is disgusting and it actually ages you rapidly. Kids who follow this new pro ana content are obliviously just as troubled as I was but god you really don’t want to grow up with these standards. Not like patriarchy spares you but a mom like this is just an added bonus on the mental illness lottery. We did the same thing with kpop idols but they’re abused as well to look like that. Funny how the inspiration always comes from countries like South Korea or Eastern Europe where patriarchy is absolutely thriving.

It’s all fun and games until your hair is falling out in chunks or you’re still doing this at 25. Your body just doesn’t take it as easy at it used to. When I recovered this time stomach acid burnt my throat and my vocal cords when I started eating, I wasn’t able to talk for days.

Back when I was still in my teens I never understood why older women just “get ugly as time goes on” and I promised myself that I’d “never let myself go.” Now that I’ve been recovered for a few months again I see that they’re not getting ugly, they were never ugly. They just know something you don’t. That you are so much more than your beauty, “beauty” that’s not even real. It’s all photoshop and botox and plastic surgery. Your body’s main job is to keep you alive to be able to ACTUALLY LIVE YOUR LIFE. To eat healthy food, to have fun with your friends, to study, to be a smart woman who knows herself to the core and doesn’t let stupid ideas break her.

#eating disoder trigger warning #disordered eating mention #radfemblr #radfeminism #radical feminism #radical feminist community #radical misandrist #radical feminist safe #radical feminists do interact #radical feminists do touch #trans exclusionary radical feminist #antikink #radical feminst #tw eating issues #ed but not ed sheeran

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itsravenbitch · 1 year ago

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hey yalllll! this is a quick follow up on this ask

i’m not gonna make this an in depth post because, baby, ion got the time for that. but lemme go ahead and tell y’all, my babies, how i just got new family members!! now, i know that sounds like i just went to target and bought them but y’all know what i mean😭 so bear with me, please and thank you.

so for some backstory: i originally come from a family of 5 including me, my mama, my daddy, and my 2 sisters. my dad is a hypocrite and a yeller (can’t stand a yeller). my mom likes to gaslight, my older sister also likes to gaslight and is one petty mf. and my little sister always tryna act like she older than me and ion like that cause, sweetheart, i’m twice your age.

so what’s new?

their personality and looks—they’re completely different people. i only wanted to change their looks because it was weird to imagine them as these new personalities because, their faces are just so deeply associated with those old personalities. so i was like lemme alter them according to these new personalities.

how?

the same way you manifest anything else. decide, accept, and persist.

the execution.

as some of y’all may or may not know, i live in a different state than the rest of my family because of college. but i’ve been coming back to texas this summer quite frequently to visit them and my childhood friends. i fulfilled my imagination before i got on the plane to houston, literally while in the airport, so when my parents picked me up that’s when i physically saw they had reflected my imagination. and i later on saw my sisters too.

when?

this happened within 5/6 hours. and i was not in the slightest bit shocked. when i saw my parents the first thing that popped up in my head was “oh okay rae! we materializing shit quick i seeee” 🤣 the thoughts i be having, you’d think i was talking to someone fr. i really am my own best friend😂 i love it here!

end.

feel free to ask questions, i’ll probably get to them in a few hours. i’m bout to take a nice lil nap. i just wanted to proofread and post real quick cause it’s been in the drafts for a week and a half now. and my drafts just keep on getting bigger, further burying this post.

love y’all

— raven😘

#i have about 180 drafts….#neville goddard #law of assumption #success story #success stories #states #imagination creates reality

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domripley · 3 months ago

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Our Own Summer

pairing: sam carpenter x reader; past quinn bailey x reader

warnings: camp counselor au, mean dom sam, daddy kink, rough sex, rough face fucking, rimming, finger sucking, face slapping, reader is a bit of a little shit, tara & reader friendship, strapon use, begging, verbal degradation, sam's been waiting to do this for awhile-, jealous!sam, she’s a bit toxic but she takes accountability.

summary: sam always found you annoying, but now that you were working as a counselor at the same camp as Sam, she finds you to be even worse.

edited by my lovely girlfriend @specialinterestshows 🥰🩵

word count: 10.3k

“Welcome! I’m Sam, and I’m the head counselor here at Camp Crystal Lake. We’re going to have a few days before the campers get here, so that will give you some time to learn the layout and ask for help with whatever you need. Does anyone have any questions for me right now?” Sam asked, looking around at the new and some returning counselors. You smirked as her eyes locked on yours, holding eye contact with you for a few seconds before shaking her head.

You could tell she was annoyed by your presence, having been at her house enough times to know how she acted when she was trying to pretend you weren’t getting on her nerves. Now that you were working at the camp she was in charge of for the whole summer, you were only going to make things worse.

“Dude, stop eye-fucking my sister,” Tara whispered as Sam started to answer your new coworkers’ questions.

“What? I- I wasn’t eye-fucking nobody, but especially not your sister,” you said, biting your lip as you realized that wasn’t believable.

Tara rolled her eyes, “Yeah sure.”

“Honest!” you try to argue, but Tara wasn’t having it.

You both knew you had a crush on her older sister since the moment you and Tara became friends. There were many sleepovers the two of you had had while Sam watched you, while her family was gone. Tara and you had been friends since the seventh grade and now that the two of you were adults, you wished Sam felt the same way towards you.

Since you didn’t think she would ever feel that way, annoying the fuck out of her was good enough. Sam didn’t own the camp, so she couldn’t fire you - in your mind that meant you were able to push her buttons more than usual. Of course, you never did it in front of Tara, considering she knew about your crush on her older sister for the longest time.

“(Your Name),” Sam called out, causing you to jump, “Come here.”

You did as you were told, getting closer to her as the counselors moved to get their stuff. You had zoned out, thinking about Sam so much that you didn’t realize she was handing things out to everyone.

As soon as you walked up to her, she smirked. “Good girl. Here’s your supplies for your campers when they get here. You’ll be in cabin two.”

You looked down at the ground, eyes widening as you noticed the black boots Sam was wearing. Between being called a good girl and seeing her boots, all you could think about was grinding against them while she praised you.

Shaking the thoughts of your head, you sighed, crossing your arms, “Samantha.”

Sam glared at you, “Stop calling me that.”

Bringing your hand up to your chin, you tapped it with one finger playfully, “Mm, no.”

You grabbed your stuff and walked away before she could say anything. Without looking at Sam, you knew she was still focused on you.

“Are you done doing that for today? It’s bad enough we’re going to be here all summer,” Tara complained as she sat her stuff down to get a drink of water from her bottle. “Instead of annoying her and poking the bear, why don’t you just make a move?”

You gave Tara a surprised look, “Make a move? What, so she can laugh at me and say no? I’d rather keep annoying her.”

Tara shook her head, “How do you know she would laugh at you?”

“She just would,” you sighed, “Would you like some help carrying your stuff to your cabin?”

“I’ve got it,” Tara said, picking her stuff back up. “Plus, Sam put me in cabin thirteen which makes no sense. What cabin are you in? I didn’t hear her when she said it.”

“Cabin two.”

Tara nodded, “You do realize Sam is in cabin one, yeah?”

“I figured, what about it?” you asked, unsure as to why Tara would bring it up. It didn’t matter to you if Sam was in cabin one or cabin twelve, you were going to annoy her just as much.

“You do realize that cabin one and cabin two are connected?” Tara informed you.

“Oh? I- well, I mean that’s fine, I’m confused as to why you’re pointing it out, to be honest.”

Tara sighed. “I just… I know you like to annoy her and we’re best friends, but she’s my sister.”

You gave her an odd look, unsure of what she was getting at. Yeah, you annoyed Sam a lot, but you genuinely did like her. “What are you trying to say?”

Tara got a bit closer to you. “I just don’t want to see her, or you, hurt.”

“Tara,” you started, “Me hurting her? I would never.”

Tara’s facial expression was unreadable when she spoke up again, “Then try not to annoy her more than what you already do. I don’t think you would intentionally hurt her, but after Richie… she puts up a big front.”

“Do you know something I don’t?” you questioned.

Tara tried her best to hide the smirk that was threatening to show, and if it was anyone else, she would be able to get away with it. Not you though, you knew the moment you asked her that she was fighting the urge to smirk.

“Got to go get set up, talk to you later,” Tara said, chuckling as she walked away.

You stood there for a few more minutes, trying to decipher what Tara was trying to get at, but you soon let it go - for now - as you headed towards cabin number two. You decided you were going to take a nap once you had your clothes and such all put away. You had a few days before your busy summer started and getting familiar with the camp could wait. Sleep could not, especially when all you could think about Sam – as well as what Tara was saying. Did Sam feel the same? Or did she know that Sam did not feel the same? You loved Tara like the sister you never had, but sometimes you wished she wasn’t so secretive when it came to important things.

“Hey, (Your Name), wait up!” a voice called out to you, causing you to stop in your tracks. You turned around, a smile spread across your face as both Chad and Mindy rushed towards you. You dropped your bags as soon as they got close enough to hug you. Chad went first, hugging you tightly and then as soon as he let go of you, Mindy gave you an even tighter hug.

“How have you been, babe?” Mindy asked as she let go of you.

“Pretty good, I’ve just been busy working and writing the book I started a bit ago,” you smiled. “How about you?”

“You still at that one place?” Chad asked.

“I’ve been good, movie theater has been doing good, I was surprised that they let me have the whole month off to do this,” Mindy said.

“I’m glad! And yeah, I’m still at that one job,” you groaned, “But honestly, I might quit when I go back home.”

“I don’t blame you, really,” Mindy said. “Well, if there’s a killer out in the woods with us and you die, then you wouldn’t have to quit!”

Both you and Chad glared at her.

“You know Sam wouldn’t let anything happen to (Your Name), the killer would be dead so fast,” Chad laughed.

Mindy hit his arm hard, glaring at him while you looked at both with confusion written all over your face. You now wondered if everyone knew something that you had no clue about. Tara was one thing – she’s Sam’s sister after all – but the twins? You were missing something and as much as you had your suspicions on what it was, you didn’t want to guess and end up wrong; you wouldn’t be able to look Sam or any of your friends in the eyes after that.

“Ow! What did you do that for?!” he whimpered, rubbing his arm.

“Ignore what he’s saying, he knows nothing,” Mindy rolled her eyes.

You sighed, wanting this conversation to end. You loved them, but all you really needed was to lay down and try and forget about the day. Looking at your watch and then back at the twins, you spoke up again, “Hey, I’ll talk to you guys in a bit, I have a bit of a headache and I’m going to be laying down for a few hours.”

Mindy and Chad said their goodbyes before they turned around. You had assumed they had already gone to the cabins they were staying in, since they didn’t have any of their stuff with them when they came up to you.

As soon as you got to the cabin, you dropped your bag on the floor before sitting on the nearest bottom bunk. You felt bad for lying to Chad and Mindy, but you were so overstimulated from everything going on so far. You got up once more to grab your pillow from your bag before laying down.

You awoke when a door was slammed shut. “What?! What's going on?” you shouted, sitting up quickly.

“You do realize there’s a room in between the cabins for the counselors to sleep and live in right?” Sam asked.

Her arms were crossed and you could tell she was annoyed. Unfortunately this time you weren’t even trying to annoy her, so it wasn’t fun for you.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

You cursed yourself for getting so shy when you were overstimulated. You looked down at the ground, refusing to even look at her.

“Oh,” Sam sighed. “You weren’t doing this to annoy me, were you?”

You shook your head, eyes still glued to the floor. The room was filled with an uncomfortable silence, but before you could say anything, Sam came up to you. Placing a hand on your shoulder, she rubbed it gently before sitting next to you.

“I didn’t mean to snap at you about it. Let me help you carry your bags to the room I was talking about, okay?” Sam spoke softly.

You nodded. “Okay.”

You stood up at the same time Sam did. You grabbed your backpack and your pillow while Sam grabbed your duffle bag.

“How did you carry this all the way here? You should have asked me for some help,” Sam sighed, grabbing the bag.

You followed her into the counselor’s room, setting your stuff down and she spoke up and pointed to the bed that was empty. “This is your bed, and over there is where you can put your clothes.”

“Thank you, S- Sam,” you said, finally making eye contact with her, “I appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem, really. We’re going to be here the entire summer, so I’d rather help you out now so I’m not worried about you the rest of the summer,” Sam explained herself, which made your heart drop.

A part of you wanted her to worry about you - attention from her was something you’d always craved. Now was no different from back then, other than the fact that you were an adult now.

“You have a point,” you sighed. “Is Quinn working here this summer?”

Sam gave you a dirty look. “Why? I mean, yes, but why?”

“Because I haven’t seen her in a while? We’re friends?” you said, unsure as to why she was asking that.

Quinn and you had dated for a short time, and although things didn’t work out well between the two of you, you were still really good friends. You figured she was just worried that you’d run back to Quinn after spending countless nights at Tara and her house after she had left you randomly. You were over the redhead, finally realizing that your crush on Sam was still present once you got over your first real heartbreak.

“Mhm,” Sam hummed, seeming to accept your response. “Anyway, I’m going to make sure everyone is settled in and that they don’t need my help. You can take a nap because I can tell you’re tired, and I won’t come in here as loud as I just did.”

“Thank you so much.”

Sam walked out with her clipboard and sunglasses and as soon as you knew she was gone, you put your things away in the drawers. Grabbing your stuffed animal, you put it at the head of your bed before you laid down.

You couldn’t help but think about how good Sam looked in her tank top. With her muscles on display, all you could think about was her pinning you down on the bed and fucking you over and over while you begged her to keep going.

You sat up and grabbed your MP3 player from your backpack before putting your headphones in. Once you were all situated, you laid back down with music blaring in your ears. You took a deep breath, slipping your hand into your shorts. You closed your eyes, moaning when you felt how wet you were through your underwear.

You ran your fingertips lightly against yourself, enjoying how good it felt. “Fuck, Sam, please don’t tease me,” you whimpered, unaware that Sam had already ducked back in to get her water bottle. She wasn’t trying to look, especially since you weren’t aware that she was there - that is, until she heard you moan out her name.

Finally, after a few minutes of teasing yourself through your underwear, you pushed your hand into them. Rubbing your clit lightly, you imagined Sam touching you whenever she wanted to.

“Please, Sam,” you moaned, “I’m yours.”

You sped up your movements, finally bringing a finger down to your entrance. You took a deep breath, trying to spread your legs, but your shorts weren’t allowing you to. Pulling your hand out of your pants, you quickly pulled them down, followed by your underwear. Kicking them off just as Mascara by Deftones started to play.

You spread your legs, bringing your hand back down to your pussy. You kept your eyes closed as you slid a finger inside yourself. You would normally work yourself up a bit more, but you were already so wet, all you wanted was to make yourself come a few times before Sam got back. The last thing you wanted was for her to see you like this, moaning her name when you weren’t even sure if she liked you. The last thing you needed was to make things awkward for the both of you the whole summer.

You added a second finger, curling them as you began to fuck yourself. “Faster, please, Daddy. Please, wan’ to come for you,” you cried out. You opened your eyes as you heard someone come up the stairs, pulling your hand out and pulling your pants and underwear up as quickly as you could.

Sam opened cabin one’s door and you used that time to make it look like you weren’t doing anything. When she opened the door to the counselor’s room, you opened the book you had brought, wanting her to not question what you had been doing while she was away. You turned your MP3 player off and set it on the nightstand.

“We’re going to be having dinner around seven-thirty, so you’ve got a few hours of free time to explore,” Sam informed you, smiling softly.

“I mean, if we have a few days before the campers even show up, I can explore tomorrow,” you sighed. “I’m so exhausted.”

Sam smirked, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, I bet.”

You gave her a confused look, but deep down your heart had just dropped. “Wh- What’s that supposed to mean, Samantha?”

You knew she hated it when you called her that, so you did, trying to get her to think that everything was okay. Sam’s smirk turned into a frown as she stood there – her eyes burning into you. You turned your head, realizing she was still staring at you and it made you nervous.

“Are you going to be a brat this whole summer, (Your Name)?” Sam asked, getting closer to you.

“What? I’m not being a brat?” You weren’t sure where this was coming from – for years when you annoyed Sam and pushed her buttons, she would just ignore you or make a petty comment back to you. But here she was, snapping at you.

“Stand up,” was all Sam said, but she gave you no room to not listen. She grabbed you by the arm, forcing you to stand up. “We’re going to get something straight here. You will behave this summer or you will not get anything from me, do you understand me?”

You nodded, getting the feeling as if Sam didn’t want you to talk at the moment.

“That means if I ask you to do something or anything, you will not call me Samantha, you will not talk back and for the record, between the two of us – you will not touch that pretty little pussy without my permission again. Got it?” Sam snapped.

You nodded in understanding, but that wasn’t good enough for Sam. Grabbing you by the throat, she squeezed lightly, before saying, “You can speak now, puppy.”

“Y-Yes, Sam, I got it,” you swallowed, licking your lips.

“Now, for years you’ve been annoying me with little things, poking the bear and then backing away, and for years I’ve been allowing you to do so. At first, I thought maybe you didn’t like me, but that wasn’t true because Tara would have dropped you the moment you said something to her… Then I got to thinking that maybe it was a crush you had and I had to make myself not believe that, because why would you have a crush on me? A few people told me you had feelings for me, but I couldn’t get myself to believe it… until today when you thought I wasn’t here, and you were masturbating. Granted, I had come back for my water bottle, and I was going to leave to give you some space and the privacy you needed,” Sam paused, getting closer to your face. You felt your cheeks heat up, hating how shy she was making you feel. “But then you started to moan my name, and I knew that this wasn’t just a one-sided thing, because if I didn’t have feelings for someone, I sure as hell wouldn’t be moaning their name. Am I wrong?”

“N- No, you’re not wrong,” you whispered, not wanting to keep her waiting for an answer from you.

“Good girl. See? It’s so much better when you behave, don’t you agree?” Sam asked.

“Yes, Sam,” you licked your lips.

“Now that we've discussed that part, tell me what you were thinking about when you were touching yourself,” Sam said, letting go of your neck to sit on her bed. She looked at you, waiting for your answer. “Well? Don’t keep me waiting. Tell me. Now.”

“You using me however you want while we’re here. Also obviously after the summer. I wanna be yours,” you admitted, keeping your eyes down onto the ground.

“Eyes on me, you look away and you’ll be going to bed with nothing but a sore ass and frustration,” Sam threatened, smirking as you shot your head up instantly without any hesitation.

“Good girl! Such a good girl,” Sam praised.

On instinct, you squeezed your legs shut, the ache between them was growing stronger. You weren’t sure how much of it you could take. Sam was actually into you, and although you were completely clueless, the more you thought about it, the more you knew you should have seen it. Between all the times Tara would smirk at Sam when she’d refuse to give you eye contact. Or how Sam would put up with you for the longest time when she could have easily told Tara to cut you off. Their relationship was extremely close, and you knew for a fact Tara would end your friendship if Sam didn’t like you.

“Aw, do you like being praised, baby?” Sam hummed, mocking you a bit to see how you’d reacted.

You bit your lip, trying to contain the moan that was fighting to come out. Her tone of voice and facial expression was not helping the ache between your legs and you needed her now.

“Please,” you whimpered, watching as Sam grabbed her backpack that had been on the floor. “I don’t think I can take any more. M’need you now, Daddy.”

Sam stopped her movements, taking a deep breath and you knew the effect you had on her. You tried your best to contain the smirk that was forming - not wanting to risk not getting anything from Sam. One thing you always knew about her: she always kept her word.

“You need me now, yeah?” Sam teased, bringing her hands to her belt buckle. “How do you need me?”

“Want you inside of me, want you to fuck me as hard as you can for all the times I’ve annoyed you. Please, Daddy. I can’t wait anymore, I’ll do anything,” you begged, hoping Sam would give in and give you what you needed.

Sam sighed, standing up from her seat to show you that her belt was unbuckled. She sat down next to you and you turned to face her.

“Yeah? You’ll do anything?” Sam questioned.

You nodded, watching Sam’s hand come up to you. “Suck” was all Sam said, bringing two fingers up to your mouth. You wrapped your lips around the digits, closing your eyes as you focused on getting them wet.

“Mm,” Sam hummed. “I bet you’d be so good at sucking cock huh?”

You smiled with her fingers still in your mouth, flinching a little as Sam wrapped her free hand around your throat. You continued to suck on her fingers, running your tongue through them.

“God I want you on my cock so bad,” Sam sighed, squeezing your throat lightly. “I brought one with me just in case, didn’t know you’d be this easy, but I kind of love that about you. You’re a whore, just a set of holes waiting to be filled by anyone.”

You shook your head as best as you could, trying to say “no,” but with her fingers in your mouth it was too hard to do so.

Sam pulled them out of your mouth before asking, “What was that?”

You took a deep breath, “N-Not anyone, just you. Want you to be the only one to fill my holes. Please, please just… please fuck me. I want you.”

“Aw, but I thought you needed me, baby?” Sam teased, smiling as you whined.

“I do need you!” you cried out, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.

“But you’re so pretty when you’re all desperate for me, I think I’m going to keep you like this for a while. Now stand up and get your shoes on, we’re going to explore the camp so you know it by heart before the campers get here.” Sam stood up, a smile on her face as she made her way to the bathroom to wash her hands.

You sat there, trying your best to catch your breath and calm down before you could get up. You were stunned - unsure as to why Sam wanted to keep you waiting, but you knew you couldn’t argue with her.

You stood up slowly, grabbing your shoes as you tried not to think about Sam’s fingers inside of you. They felt good in your mouth and you knew they were going to feel so good when they were in your pussy. But for now, you kept quiet, slipping on your shoes while Sam grabbed her clipboard and water bottle.

“I’m ready,” you said, grabbing your own water bottle. The last thing you needed was to be dehydrated, especially in this heat.

“Good girl,” Sam praised, causing you to bite your lip. You wish she had just fucked you - until she would, you were going to try and be on your best behavior. “If you’re good for the rest of the day, after dinner I’ll fuck you.”

“You promise?” you asked, eyes wide as the two of you made your way through the cabin.

“I promise,” Sam said, “And I will keep my promise, as long as you keep yours to be a good girl and behave.”

When the two of you left the cabin, you ran into Quinn for the first time in a full year. She stopped the two of you, smiling at Sam before pulling you into a hug.

“Hey, (Your Name), how’s it going? I haven’t seen you in a bit, you look so good!” Quinn said, finally letting you go. You were too busy focusing on Quinn to notice the glare Sam was giving you.

“We should hang out soon, after the summer is over. Maybe catch up with dinner and a movie?” you suggest.

“I’d love that! Alright, I’m gonna go take a walk around the whole camp before dinner, I’ll see you two then!” Quinn said as she walked in the opposite direction that Sam and you were going.

“You realize you just asked her on a date, (Your Name)?” Sam asked as the two of you continued to walk.

“I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” you said, realizing that you had fucked up. Quinn was your ex-girlfriend, but she was still your friend. So in your mind, you thought you were just asking her to hanging out like friends do.

“I’m not upset with you,” Sam reassured you. “I know how you are sometimes, so I know you didn’t mean it like that.”

You looked at her. “But?”

“But it also means that I get to remind you that you belong to me,” Sam hummed.

”Oh,” you gasped, her words going straight to your pussy. You knew it wouldn’t have affected you that much if she hadn’t just worked you up before denying you even a single touch. At this point, you thought if Sam just touched you once you would come.

Sam ignored you as the two of you made your way around the corner. You sighed, putting your hands in your pocket, slightly jumping when Sam spoke up.

“So, what are you into?” she asked. Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment - you weren’t expecting her to ask you right there and then. You stayed quiet for a few minutes as the two of you continued to walk.

“Well,” you paused, taking a deep breath, “I haven’t done too much, but I know I like being choked, slapped, and spanked. I also like being face fucked and… well… I like anal, as well as being degraded.”

Sam smirked, looking down at the ground. “That’s very good to know. I’m into those things as a domme, and a lot more that I would love to try with you, if you want to. Doesn’t have to be now or during the summer; you’re more than welcome to come over. Even if Tara isn’t home, okay? I know this is a lot to take in and I do really like you, so I would love to spend time with you outside of sexual things too.”

You nodded, “Thank you for letting me know.”

Sam took your hand in hers, “I’ve liked you for a long time and I know we can’t do anything here, but I want you to know that I really do care about you…”

“I know you do, so why are you saying all of this?” you asked.

Sam pulled her hand away, bringing it up to her forehead to wipe the sweat. She turned to look at you once more and said, with a straight face, “Oh, because I plan on fucking you as if I fucking hate you, and I want to make sure that you know that I really do like you.”

Your eyes widened, quickly turning your head so Sam couldn’t see the look on your face. You knew you shouldn’t have been surprised, and yet, here you were.

“What?” Sam asked, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“I- nothing, just-“ you began, but she cut you off.

“Oh I know what it is,” Sam hummed. Her confidence was making things worse for the ache between your legs. “You love the idea of me using you roughly, making you feel as if all you’re good for is being a set of holes for me. But after, you can’t wait for me to hold and cuddle you and praise you for being such a good girl for me. Am I wrong?”

You shook your head, whispering, “No, you’re not wrong at all.”

You stopped walking, trying to catch your breath as you took a drink from your own water bottle. Dinner needed to get here sooner; you were hoping that after that, she would give you what you wanted.

“Do you need to sit down? We can rest for a bit if you need to,” Sam said, watching as you nodded.

She helped you sit down on the ground and then sat down next to you. Sam took a drink from her water bottle and when she sat it down, she turned to you.

“Pull your shorts down,” Sam said, watching as you nervously looked around. The two of you were tucked into a corner and even though no one could see you, you were terrified that someone might walk by. Especially Tara.

Although Tara seemed to want the two of you to be together, you were worried that she would be angry if she caught the two of you fucking. It was a silly thought, really, but as Sam tugged at the waistband of your shorts, you focused back on her instead of your anxieties.

“What… what if someone catches us?” you asked, still nervous.

”No one is going to catch us. And even if they did, I would make sure they didn’t say anything to anyone else. Do you trust me, (Your Name)?” Sam asked.

You nodded, “Of course, Sam.”

“Then pull your shorts and underwear down and I’ll give you a little something to keep you going until after dinner,” Sam said.

You did as you were told, pulling both down as you refused to look at Sam. When they were around your ankles, she pushed your legs apart, giving you a look to silently tell you to keep them open. You bit your lip as she wasted no time, bringing her hand between your legs.

“God, you’re so fucking wet. And it’s all for me, yeah?” Sam asked, even though she knew the answer to it.

“Y- Yes, only for you, Sam,” you whimpered as she rubbed at your clit as softly as she could. She was still teasing you, but you were just glad she was touching you.

“When I’m fucking you, you’re to call me ‘Daddy,’ understood?” she asked, pulling her hand away from you.

“Please-“ you began just before Sam spat on her fingers, bringing her hand back to your pussy.

Sam rubbed faster this time, not giving you a chance to ask for more when she slipped a single finger into you. She curled it, fucking it in and out of you. You bit your lip, trying to focus on not coming so soon - having been worked up for a while, you expected it, but you were still embarrassed by how close you already were. Sam noticed, still her finger inside of you mid-thrust.

“You’re so pathetic,” Sam laughed, slipping in a second finger, “You’re already so close and I’ve barely touched you… makes me want to keep you waiting even more.”

“No!” you cried out, “Please, Daddy, please don’t stop. I can’t take anymore teasing. Please.”

Sam shook her head, pulling her fingers out of you. You watched as she brought them to her face, taking both into her mouth. You let out a whimper as she sucked on her own fingers, humming at how good you tasted.

When she pulled them out of her mouth, Sam licked her lips. “You’ll take what I give you because I’m giving it to you. You’ll be a good girl and take it all, because that’ll make me happy. And you want to make me happy, don’t you?”

You nodded, “Yes, Daddy, I do… but-“

“No buts,” Sam cut you off rather quickly.

You sighed, pulling your pants back up. Before you could stand up, Sam stopped you.

“Sam,” you whined, your eyes widened when she grabbed your forearm, “Please stop teasing me.”

Sam’s smile grew wide, “No, I don’t think I will, baby. It’s too much fun.”

You rolled your eyes, frustrated with how close you were. You were desperate and you knew you weren’t going to be able to make it through dinner, let alone wait until tonight. Sam let go of your arm so she could stand. She stuck her hand out to help you up and you took it with no hesitation, despite how desperate you were. A part of you thought she was just doing all of this to fuck with you, and that at the end of the night, she was going to tell you that she had no feelings for you at all.

“Thank you,” you said, picking your water bottle up off the ground. You took a few sips before the two of you continued to walk.

”That building with the red roof is the arts and crafts room. It’s a single room that they used to use for storage, but decided it would be a better fit for something else with how big it is,” Sam pointed out. When you nodded, she continued. “The other building next to it is empty and is never used. We’re also not allowed to use it, but I go in there sometimes at night when I want some alone time to think.”

”It seems like a good spot to clear your head after a stressful day,” you agreed.

Sam seemed ready to say something else when Chad and Tara caught up with the two of you.

“Hey Sam!” Chad smiled, pulling her into a hug, “I see you two are getting along.”

You looked down at the ground in embarrassment, knowing that if Tara could see your face then and there, she would know something was up. The last thing you needed was for Tara to ask you a bunch of questions, because at the end of the day, you were horrible at hiding things from her. She was good at getting information out of you and you were sure she was going to want to know what was going on between you and Sam.

”Yeah, we had a bit of a talk and we’re now on the same page,” Sam said.

You could hear the smirk in her voice without even having to look at Sam, and you knew she was teasing you. You looked up at Tara, instantly regretting it when she gave you a knowing look. I’m so fucked, you thought to yourself as Chad nodded and went on to talk with Sam some more as the four of you began to walk together. You knew that the moment Tara got you alone, she was going to ask you what Sam meant by “being on the same page.”

Did Sam do it on purpose, to make it so you had to wait even longer? Or did she not mean for it to happen? You couldn’t really believe that she didn’t mean to do it, because she knew how her sister was.

”I didn’t realize how hot this summer was going to be,” you complained.

You were relieved that the building you had assumed to be the dining hall was approaching. You wanted to sit down in some air conditioning, and this was your chance to get it before dinner.

”Well, I’m gonna go and get changed for dinner, Tara, you coming?” Chad asked.

Tara smiled at him, “No, I think I’m going to stay with Sam and (Your Name), but I’ll see you when it’s dinner time.”

Chad walked away from the three of you. You felt the awkwardness when you all made it to the dining hall, unsure of what to say or if you even wanted to say something in fear that Tara would ask you questions in front of Sam.

“We can hang out here until it’s time for dinner,” Sam said as she opened the door, letting both you and Tara in first before she followed behind.

“The air conditioning feels so nice,” you groaned, sitting down at one of the tables.

“I agree,” Tara nodded.

“You two get comfortable, I’m going to see how the cooks are doing,” Sam said, patting your back before walking away from both Tara and you.

You started to play with your nails, wanting Sam to come back fast. Tara cleared her throat, causing you to jump.

“So I noticed that you and Sam are getting along better, and this is the longest you have gone without annoying the fuck out of her,” Tara commented, taking the seat next to you.

Suddenly you felt as if the walls were closing in on you, the anxiety making it harder to breathe. “Yeah, w- we, uh-“ you began, but she cut you off.

“I know you’re hiding something and that’s okay, I’ll figure it out, don’t worry,” Tara smirked. “I love you, (Your Name), but whatever the two of you have going on, please don’t fuck it up.”

You have her a puzzling look, “Why would I fuck anything up? If, you know, there’s something there… which there isn’t.”

“You’re such a bad liar,” Tara rolled her eyes. “I’m not supposed to say anything, but you are my best friend. Sam… ever since Richie… she’s been different when it comes to dating. Maybe me saying ‘don’t fuck anything up’ is the wrong word choice, so I apologize for that. She… I don’t know how to explain it.”

You looked down at the table, unsure of how to respond to that. You bit your lip, wanting Sam to get back to the two of you faster than she was.

“Please don’t let that be your reason for not trying,” Tara said, and you thought it was because she sensed your anxiety. “Also don’t tell Sam I said anything, she’d kill me.”

You looked up at Tara with a small smile. “You’re right about that.”

You weren’t entirely sure what she meant, but for the time being, you decided not to question anything. You were stuck at Camp Crystal Lake for the whole summer and the last thing you needed was to fuck everything up and have to deal with things being awkward for three months.

Of course, after the first camp week was over with, you could ask to change cabins. Tara would be the most up to doing it, you were sure of it. But you didn’t want that - you had been wanting Sam for years and you weren’t going to ruin your chance just because you wanted to ask questions. You and Tara sat in silence, waiting for Sam to get back. Finally after what felt like a full hour (but was really only about fifteen minutes), Sam appeared again.

“Sorry about that, Quinn and I were talking about a few things,” Sam said, trying to hide the irritation in her voice. You and Tara knew her too well; she was doing such a terrible job.

“Are you okay?” you asked without thinking.

“Yeah. Everything’s fine,” Sam snapped, taking a seat next to Tara instead of you. You knew you shouldn’t have been surprised - she was her sister - but you were a little hurt.

You frowned at Tara before looking back down at your hands. You hated feeling as if you had done something wrong, but you also knew Sam wasn't trying to make you feel that way.

You wished you had your phone so you could distract yourself from the thought of Sam being irritated with you.

“Hey Sam?” Tara asked, causing you to flinch a little.

You refused to look up, not wanting to see Sam glaring at you.

“Yeah?” Sam asked, her voice calmer than it had been.

“You need to lower your tone. (Your Name) was just asking if you’re okay because she cares about you,” Tara snapped, making your eyes widen. You had never heard Tara stand up to Sam like that - especially not on your behalf.

Sam took a deep breath, “I’m sorry, (Your Name), Tara is right. You were just asking out of concern and that’s on me.”

“It’s okay,” you said, finally looking up at her.

“Are you sure?” Sam asked.

For the first time, you saw real concern on her face and it melted your heart. You couldn’t believe that all of this was happening.

“I’m sure,” you nodded, “But please, try not to snap at me again. We just started talking and I want this to continue.”

“I’ll try my best, but I promise you did nothing wrong. Quinn just made a comment and it irritated me. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you when you were just worried,” Sam admitted.

“Thank you.”

Finally, the other counselors flooded in; it was time for dinner. You were relieved, realizing that you were starting to get hungry. You took your place in line and as soon as you got your food, you sat back down at the spot you were in before. You breathed a sigh of relief when Sam sat down next to you.

“Make sure you eat as much as you can,” Sam leaned in and whispered, “You’re going to need all the energy you can get. If you still want me to fuck you, that is.”

You nodded frantically, “I- I still want you to fuck me. More than anything.”

Sam smirked, “More than anything?”

You nodded again, “Yes, Daddy.”

You went straight to eating your food, not wanting to say anything more to Sam, fearing that someone might overhear. When Tara and Chad sat down across from you and Sam, you began talking to Chad about your favorite TV show. Sam stayed quiet, occasionally looking at you while you talked, in awe. You only noticed once Tara started to smirk at you.

When you were done, you excused yourself. Throwing your trash away and returning the tray, you made your way out the door and toward the cabin. You needed to change into something more comfortable, having walked around in the heat for most of the day.

You changed into pajamas and laid down in bed, deciding that you were going to try to take a quick nap before Sam got back to the cabin. Closing your eyes, you pictured how Sam was going to fuck - if she was going to fuck you, at least. You were still worried that she was only playing with your feelings as payback for how much you had annoyed her purposefully over the years. Although, if Tara and Chad both knew something positive, you don’t think they would let you think she was being honest if she wasn’t.

You couldn’t sleep, too excited to see what would happen. Just as you sat up, Sam came into the room. You watched as she sat her water bottle down on the nightstand next to her bed. She pulled her shirt off, revealing the black tank top she had underneath. You licked your lips, the sight of her muscles making you ache to see more.

”I can feel you staring, and if you want something, you need to ask,” Sam said firmly. “I’m not going to hand you anything, baby. You’re going to have to earn it.”

”Sam,” you whined, causing Sam to turn to you.

”Yes?” she responded, a mocking tone in her voice that made goosebumps form on your skin, “What would you like?”

”I…” you trailed off, the words refusing to come out right away.

“Use your words. Or did you forget how to use them? Hm?” Sam teased, getting closer to you. When you looked down at the floor, Sam grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up at her. “Oh I see what’s happening. When that pretty little pussy of yours gets all wet, you get fucking stupid. Is that what it is, pretty baby?”

You closed your eyes, “Yes, Daddy. Can’t think when I’m horny.”

Sam smiled, letting go of your chin. “Good girl. Don’t you worry about having to think anymore - I can do that for you. Now tell Daddy what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

”I want you to fuck me, I’ve been wanting it for so long,” you admitted, “Please, can’t wait any longer.”

Sam moved back to her bed, sitting on the edge while she raked her eyes over your body. “Strip for me.”

You did as you were told, pulling your shirt off and throwing it onto the ground. You then pulled your shorts down, kicking them off you as quickly as you could.

“Stand up and c’mere,” Sam ordered. You did as you were told, getting up quickly and moving towards her.

Sam placed her hands on your hips, turning around so your back was facing her. “You’re so fucking sexy,” Sam hummed, unclasping your bra. “I can’t wait to fucking ruin you.”

Sam hooked her fingers underneath the waistband of your underwear, slowly pulling them down. You bit your lip as you tried to be patient. Sam was taking her time and you hated it. As soon as your underwear was around your ankles, you kicked them off. Without a word, you turned around to face her.

“Did I say you could turn back around?” Sam asked, slapping your thigh hard.

“No, but-“ you began, but Sam cut you off with another slap in the same spot. You whimpered, watching as Sam licked her lips.

“So if I didn’t tell you to turn around, what should you do?” Sam questioned, crossing her arms over her chest as she waited for you to do what you were supposed to do.

You turned back around, your back facing her once more. Sam guided you to move a little bit before she stood up. You turned your head as best as you could, but Sam slapped your ass. “Did I say you could look at me?” she asked.

You turned your head back to look straight ahead, not wanting Sam to drag it out any longer than she had already. You closed your eyes as Sam began to grab your ass - whining when she removed her hands.

“Stay still,” she warned, standing up behind you. She pulled her tanked top off, then her shorts and underwear. “Bend over your bed for me.”

You were a little confused. Was she going to fuck you now? You’d think she would at least take a little time getting you ready. Despite your confusion, you did as you were told, bending over your bed right in front of her.

“Fuck,” Sam breathed, coming up behind you, “I want to fuck your ass so badly, but that can wait for different day.”

“D- Daddy,” you whined as Sam brought her hand down to your pussy.

“What is it?” Sam asked, slipping a single finger inside of you. When you didn’t respond, she spoke again, “Come on, answer me. Just because I’ve got one finger in you, doesn’t mean you’re allowed to be stupid.”

“M’need more,” you whispered.

Sam sighed in faux irritation. “You need more? Because it seems to me that you could come with me just fucking you with one finger, considering how much you’re squeezing.”

You cried out, “Please, Sam!”

“Fine,” Sam said, pulling her finger out of you. She brought it to her mouth, cleaning it off with her tongue. Pulling out from between her lips, she spat on her fingers before bringing them back to your pussy.

Sam slowly rubbed at your clit as she moved to sit on her knees behind you. She leaned in as she slipped two fingers into you, biting your ass before trailing her tongue all the way to your asshole. She tested the waters, circling her tongue around your entrance before pushing it in just a little.

“Oh- that’s,” you moaned, gripping the sheets. Sam’s tongue on your ass felt strange in the best way and you wanted her to keep going.

As Sam continued to fuck her tongue in and out of you, she kept the same pace with her fingers. You were usually shy the first couple of times you had sex with someone new, but everything felt too good for you to really care.

“D- Daddy,” you moaned. Hearing Sam chuckle against your skin brought you closer to the orgasm you were trying to fight off. “Please- Please, I’m so, so close. Please let me come.”

Sam pulled her mouth away and hummed, “Go ahead and come for your Daddy.”

You bit down on the sheets on your bed as you came, not wanting to be heard by anyone passing by. Sam pulled out her fingers, smacking your ass with the hand that was just inside of you. “Get on your knees,” she demanded.

You quickly obeyed, looking up at Sam with wide eyes. “Open,” she said, and you did as you were told. Opening your mouth as wide as you could without hesitation, you had no time to react as Sam shoved two fingers into your mouth. You gagged around them, trying your best to suck when she was pushing them deeper down your throat.

“God, you look so fucking pretty with tears in your eyes,” Sam praised, leaning down over you. “Close your eyes.”

You weren’t sure why she was telling you to do that, but you closed your eyes - doing as she had ordered. You flinched, pulling your mouth off her fingers when Sam spat on you.

“You want something else in your mouth?” Sam asked, smearing her spit across your face.

You took a deep breath, opening your eyes once you felt comfortable enough. You nodded and without a word, Sam gripped the base of the toy and brought the tip to your lips. You welcomed the toy into your mouth, pushing inch by inch until your nose touched her stomach. When you pulled off the toy, a string of drool was left connecting your mouth to it.

Sam jerked the toy off, spreading your drool all over it. “God you’re so fucking pretty. Come on, get back on my cock.”

You leaned back in, taking the toy in your mouth before Sam grabbed your head with both of her hands. She kept you in place while she began to fuck your face at a slow pace. You looked up at Sam, trying your best to suppress the gag reflex that was threatening to act up. Sam sped up her movements as she kept a firm grip on your head.

You gagged, causing your eyes to water - which made Sam pick up her pace. You breathed through your nose, trying to relax as she pushed you down further on it, making you gag again.

“You’re such a filthy fucking whore for me, letting me choke you with my cock when anyone can just walk in. I bet you’d like that, huh?” Sam teased.

Sam fucked your face harder, letting one of her hands come down to pinch at your nose. You pushed at her thighs as you tried your best to stay relaxed. Finally, Sam let go of your nose to slap your face as she continued to fuck your mouth.

Sam pinched your nose closed once more, this time she stopped thrusting to hold you down on the strapon. You gagged again, not once, but twice before Sam pushed you off her. You gasped for breath, as you wiped the spit from your mouth with the back of your hand.

“On my bed, on your back,” Sam said, grabbing her water bottle and taking a sip. As you went to lay down, Sam handed it to you. “Take a few sips - you’re going to need it.”

You did before handing the bottle back to her. Sam smiled, “Good girl.” She sat it down on the nightstand before climbing into the bed and between your legs.

“Spread your legs. Wider,” she said, reaching over to open the nightstand drawer to grab a bottle of lube.

You watched as she squeezed some onto her hand. Bringing her now-lubricated hand to your pussy, she rubbed it into you, causing you to whimper. “Now this is your first and final warning: I’m going to fuck you like you’re nothing to me and I want you to know that’s not the case. Okay?”

You nodded, “I understand. I want it, want you to put me in my place, Daddy.”

Sam rubbed the tip of the toy against your clit and through your folds. “You stop me at any time if you need me to, okay?”

“I will, I promise.”

“Good girl,” Sam said as she pushed the strapon all the way inside you.

You let out a pained cry as Sam fucked you at a bruising pace. You brought your hand down to rub at your clit, but Sam smacked it away.

“You don’t get to touch yourself, fuckin’ greedy whore,” Sam spat, bringing her hand up to wrap around your throat. She squeezed hard, causing you to choke as she continued to fuck you.

“Nothing but a set of holes for me to fuck,” Sam grunted, letting go of your throat. “If I knew how easy you’d be, I would have done this so much sooner.”

“Fuck, S- Sam,” you gasped.

“Shut the fuck up,” Sam growled, glaring at you.

Sam slapped you across the face, using her free hand to keep herself balanced. You whimpered, feeling yourself getting closer to your orgasm. You figured Sam sensed it as well, pulling out of you.

“What the-“ you began, but Sam slapped your pussy as hard as she could.

“How many fucking times do I have to tell you that toys don’t fucking talk?” Sam asked, shoving the strapon back into you. “You really do like to be treated like you’re nothing, huh? It’s really fucking pathetic.”

Sam picked up her pace once more, not saying a word as she focused on fucking you.

“Pleasepleaseplease,” you begged. You were once again on the verge of an orgasm, but Sam ignored you. ”Daddy.”

”Pleasepleaseplease, Daddy,” Sam mocked.

Sam brought her hands up to your nipples, pinching them as hard as she could. It sent you over the edge and - to your surprise - she fucked you through your orgasm, not stopping. Sam didn’t let up, she continued at the same pace.

“I- I’m coming aga-!“ you cried out, but Sam covered your mouth.

“I’m going to have to teach you to shut up, don’t I?” Sam moaned, feeling her own orgasm approaching. “Go on, come for me, my pretty little fleshlight.”

You came, this time unable to cry out as she continued to cover your mouth. Sam stopped for a moment, leaning over you and taking one of your nipples into her mouth after moving her hand away from yours. She bit down, pulling it between her teeth.

“Fuck, ow,” you whimpered.

You kept grinding against Sam while her strapon was still inside of you. Letting go of your nipple, Sam asked, “You want to come again?”

You nodded, “Yes.”

Sam licked your nipple before sitting up straight again. “Do you think you’ve earned it? You already came twice. I’ve got a greedy set of holes here.”

Sam slowly pulled out halfway, looking down and letting spit fall from her mouth and onto the toy. She pushed the strapon back inside of you, beginning at a slow pace this time.

“All you’re good for is being my fucktoy, yeah?” Sam questioned, holding your thighs in place. She didn’t trust you, knowing you would try to close your legs when she wasn’t paying attention. “Repeat it back to me, you stupid slut.”

“I- I’m only good for be- being your fucktoy, Daddy,” you repeated, earning a satisfied smile from Sam.

“Yeah you are,” Sam laughed, picking up the pace, “Is that why Quinn fucked you last week? Hm? Are you a set of holes for her? Are you?”

“I-“ you began, unsure of how Sam would know that or why she would bring it up.

It was true, Quinn had called you over to hang out like the two of you normally did, but as the night went on, with the way Quinn was looking at you, you caved and ended up letting Quinn fuck you. You just weren’t expecting Sam to know about it. Then it clicked - that’s why she was annoyed when she came back in from talking to Quinn.

“I- it just happened, fuck-“ you cut yourself as Sam brought her hand down to rub at your clit, “It won’t happen again, D-Daddy.”

“No, it won’t, because you’re mine,” Sam snapped, pulling the toy out of you.

You cried out, unsure why she did that. Sam crawled up the bed so the strapon was right in front of your face.

“Clean up your mess, whore,” Sam said, watching as you strained your neck to get the toy into your mouth.

Sam grew impatient, fucking your face at a rough pace. You gagged as the tip of the toy hit the back of your throat, making you cry. Instead of stopping for a moment, Sam continued to fuck your mouth at a rough pace.

“God, I can’t wait to use you anytime I want. And you’re going to let me, right?” Sam asked.

When you didn’t answer, Sam stopped mid-thrust. “I asked you a question and I expect an answer. Or should I go tell Quinn that you want her back?”

“Mm hm mm!” you tried to say, but it was difficult to speak with your mouth full.

Sam knew what you were trying to say, smiling down at you before she continued her thrusts again. You looked up at her again, your vision blurry from crying.

“You’re so fucking pretty when you cry,” Sam moaned, coming as she fucked your face with the strapon.

She took a deep breath before pulling out of your mouth. Sam wiped your spit from your mouth, rubbing it all over your face as you whimpered.

“Get on all fours,” Sam ordered.

You did as you were told, getting on your hands and knees as Sam got off the bed to grab something.

“Has Quinn ever fucked your ass?” Sam asked, grabbing a condom from her backpack.

“N- No, Daddy,” you whimpered, stopping yourself from turning to look at her.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt the dip in the bed. Sam was behind you, running her hand against the small of your back.

“Are you lying to me?” Sam asked.

You looked back at her, “I- I would never lie to you! She’s never fucked my ass because… well…”

“Because?” Sam pushed.

“I wanted you to be the one to fuck my ass, if there was a chance that you liked me,” you admitted, looking back down at the sheets. You were embarrassed, unsure of what Sam was going to say.

“You were waiting for me to be the one to fuck your ass, yeah? Am I hearing you right?”

You took a deep breath. “Yes, you heard me right.”

“Has anyone fucked your ass?” Sam asked, her voice much softer than has been all night.

“No.”

Sam took a deep breath before getting off the bed. “Then we won’t be doing anal at all this summer. I’m not going to be rough the first time with you. Okay?”

“Okay,” you said, getting out of the position to sit at the edge of the bed, “Are you upset with me?”

“Oh no,” Sam said softly. “Why would I ever be mad at you?”

“Quinn… A week ago I didn’t know this was going to happen between us, but I promise, I only want you,” you reassured her.

Sam sat down on the edge of the bed with you, wrapping her arm around you. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” Sam asked with a concerned look on her face.

You shook your head, “Not at all, I had a lot of fun.”

“I’m so glad,” Sam smiled. “You were such a good girl for me, y’know that?”

You bit your lip as you felt your cheeks heat up. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Now let’s get you all cleaned up.” Sam stood up, grabbing a washcloth from her drawer. She walked into the bathroom and came back out.

She helped wash your face off, then your thighs, occasionally leaving soft kisses on your arm and shoulder.

Sam threw the washcloth on the floor and you assumed she was going to get it later. “Would you like to wear something or would you rather sleep naked?”

“I’ll sleep naked,” you said. “Can we cuddle?”

Sam laid down on the bed, patting the space next to her. “Of course we can.”

You laid down next to her on your side, closing your eyes and smiling to yourself. You weren’t sure how you got this lucky, but you were glad that you finally got what you had wanted for years.

“I’m sorry if that killed the mood,” you said.

Sam wrapped her arms around you. “Nothing you did killed the mood, I could just tell you needed a break. Plus, I’m in no rush considering we have all summer and after. I would tell you if you did something to kill my mood.”

“Okay.”

You quickly fell asleep, feeling safe in Sam’s arms.

#sam carpenter #sam carpenter smut #sam carpenter x reader #x reader #scream #scream 6 #my writing #mine #smut

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