#THE WAY HE STOPS AND LOOKS AT HER FACE AND THEN CLOSES HIS EYES BECAUSE HE'S NOT GOING ANYWHERE!!!!!

[callsign-fox]

Distract Me - Bob/Robert Reynolds

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/Sentry x Fem!Reader/Superhero

Warning: 18+ / Foreplay / Sex

Y'all definitely wanted this, so here you go! More to come because I can't seem to stop.

Thank you for all the love! xo

Y/N entered Bob’s room without knocking, the soft creak of the door the only sound to announce her. She didn’t need to ask—she knew he’d be here, stretched out on the bed, staring at the ceiling like it held answers only he could see. And there he was, headphones in, still except for the slow rise and fall of his chest.

She lingered in the doorway, heart heavy. He’d used his powers today—again. And again, it had been for her.

She hated it. Hated what it did to him. Every time he tapped into it, the Void stirred, threatening to take him from her. It left him drained, quieter, the light behind his eyes a little dimmer each time. She was always the first to say no when the others asked. The one who stood between him and danger if it meant keeping him from turning.

But he did it anyway. Not for glory.

For them.

For her.

She closed the door softly and crossed the room. He didn’t look at her, but his fingers twitched—he knew. She slipped off her boots and socks, letting them fall quietly to the floor, then climbed into bed beside him. The silence between them wasn’t empty; it was thick with unspoken things—gratitude, frustration, fear.

She reached out, and her fingers brushed his—warm, steady, familiar.

He turned to look at her, his eyes glowing with that unnatural, golden-white light. It was still there—burning, dangerous—but dimming, as if her presence was pulling it back, grounding him.

“How are you doing?” she asked gently.

Bob took a slow breath, but the lines in his face didn’t soften. “I’m fine.”

She didn’t believe him. Her heart ached at how far away he seemed, even lying right beside her. But she didn’t look away.

“I’m here if you need me. If there is anything I can do…”

He hesitated before answering, voice low. “Distract me. Somehow.”

She nodded, a quiet decision settling in her bones. They hadn’t been intimate—not yet. What they had was slow and tender, full of stolen glances and careful touches, like neither of them wanted to risk breaking something fragile. But tonight, that caution felt distant. He needed her, and she needed him to come back.

She climbed over him, straddling his hips with deliberate care. The hem of her skirt brushed his thighs as she leaned in, taking his hands in hers.

Bob didn’t resist, just watched her closely. 

Wordlessly, she guided them to her bare skin, placing them on her thighs—warm, soft, grounding. Her fingers didn’t let go, urging his touch higher, coaxing him gently back to her, to now.

“Is this okay?” She asked softly. 

He didn’t speak. Just nodded, slow and sure, like any words might break the moment.

She kept her eyes on his as she moved his hands higher, slipping them beneath the edge of her skirt. Her breath caught as his fingers brushed over the thin fabric between them. She could feel him beneath her, already hard, already aware. Still, she guided him, rolling her hips just slightly, showing him exactly where she needed him most.

His touch was tentative at first, as if he was still afraid he might hurt her—or worse, lose control. But she didn’t let go, guiding him with gentle pressure, rocking her hips in time with the slow, steady movement of his fingers over the thin fabric.

A soft sigh escaped her lips, her head tilting back just slightly. It wasn’t just the pleasure—it was him, still here, still hers. She could feel his heartbeat through his fingertips, see the golden glow in his eyes flicker, weakening, retreating.

They stayed like that for a moment, the room wrapped in silence but thick with tension—his hand moving in slow, careful circles, her thighs tightening around him. He watched her with awe and something deeper, something broken and tender all at once. It made her breath hitch, made her chest ache in the best and worst way.

But then something shifted in him—some tether snapped. Maybe it was the way she moaned his name so quietly, or the way her body arched into his touch like she trusted him completely.

He exhaled sharply, then moved.

In one smooth motion, he flipped them, pressing her down against the mattress, his body settling over hers. She gasped, breath stolen by the sudden change—but her hands gripped his shoulders, grounding herself in him.

He hovered just above her, eyes wide and human again—clear blue, no trace of gold. Just Bob.

He stared at her like she was a lifeline. “You brought me back,” he murmured, voice rough. “You always do.”

He hovered over her, breath ragged, eyes searching hers as if still trying to believe this was real—that she wanted this, wanted him. She reached up and cradled his face, thumbs brushing across the sharp edge of his cheekbone. He leaned into her touch.

“I’m right here,” she whispered, soft and sure. “Stay with me.”

Something in him broke then—not in fear, but surrender. He dipped his head and kissed her, slowly, like he was memorizing the shape of her mouth, the way she tasted, the way she breathed into him like he was something worth saving.

His hands moved to her waist, sliding beneath her shirt, warm and calloused as they explored bare skin. She arched into him, welcoming the heat of his touch, the way he handled her like she was something precious. When he finally lifted her shirt over her head, it was with careful hands, taking a moment to admire her like she was the most breathtaking thing he’d ever seen.

She helped him out of his shirt too, fingertips trailing along his chest, feeling every muscle twitch under her touch. He was warm and solid beneath her palms, familiar in a way that made her heart ache. 

He took his time, fingers brushing along the insides of her thighs, making her breath catch. When she was bare beneath him, he just stared for a long moment, eyes dark with awe and restraint.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, voice hoarse.

She reached for him, undoing his belt with shaking fingers, and he let her. Let her take her time. Let her feel him, like she’d been waiting to do this forever. When they were finally skin to skin, nothing between them, he paused—forehead resting against hers, breathing hard.

“You sure?” he asked, voice barely a whisper.

She nodded, pulling him closer. “I’ve never been more sure.”

He entered her slowly, gently, every movement unspoken but full of meaning—trust, want, something deeper they didn’t have to say out loud. He kept his eyes on her, watching the way her breath caught, the way her fingers gripped his arm like she was holding onto something real.

Their bodies moved together easily, instinctively, like they’d been made to fit this way. Nothing rushed. Nothing forced. Just the quiet rhythm of two people who had been waiting for this without realizing it.

Y/N’s nails scraped lightly down his back as he kissed along her jaw, his breath warm against her skin. 

“Bob.” She whispered his name again, softer now, as if the sound alone steadied her.

Time didn’t feel like it mattered anymore. The world outside faded into the background, quiet and unimportant. It was just them—skin, breath, a shared warmth that pulled them closer with every slow roll of their hips.

It was just them. 

And when they both came undone, his face buried in her neck, murmuring her name like a prayer—his eyes were still blue.

They lay tangled together, their breaths slowly returning to rhythm, skin damp and flushed from everything they’d just shared. Bob had one arm wrapped around her waist, holding her close like he wasn’t ready to let go, not even for a second. Her fingers traced slow, lazy patterns along his chest, while her lips brushed softly over his. 

Then, a knock came. 

Both of them froze as a quiet voice came from the other side of the door.

“Bobby… you doing okay?” It was Walker.

Y/N blinked, then looked at Bob, whose eyes had flown open. He let out a barely audible groan, burying his face in her shoulder while she bit back a laugh.

Then, without raising her voice, she called back toward the door— “he’s perfect.”

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

@debs171110 - because you asked nicely :)

[kjhbsies]

Say It Loud

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join my 500 celebration!

James Potter x Slytherin!reader

synopsis: James Potter is in a secret relationship with Y/N, but things spiral when someone mistakes Regulus Black for Y/N’s boyfriend and spreads the rumor around Hogwarts. How far will he go before he can’t take it anymore?

wordcount: 2,624

note: 16+ fluff. last part for this series. kudos to this request.

part I. part II.

James Potter stumbled down the Gryffindor boys' dormitory staircase like he was half-dreaming, half-dazed, and one hundred percent very recently kissed stupid. His tie was hanging through the collar of his shirt loosely, hair even messier than usual, and there was a pink flush creeping into his neck that no amount of cold morning air could erase.

Remus was waiting in the common room with a book tucked under his one arm and a cup of coffee in his hand, looking put-together as usual. His eyes were trained on James before his eyebrow slowly shot up.

James didn't notice. He was too busy suppressing a moonstruck grin, humming something off-key under his breath.

"You look different," Remus deadpanned once James was beside him.

James looked at him. "What?"

"You're glowing."

"I am not," James replied, voice suspiciously high-pitched.

"You're literally blushing."

James coughed and tried to compose himself. Putting on his best neutral face, but it still didn't work. Remus was about to add something when James immediately cut him off.

"Where's Pads and Wormy?"

"Already outside, waiting for your arse to come down."

James rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks deepening to a red hue. "Overslept."

"Hmm," Remus nodded while sipping his coffee. "Overslept or... overloved?"

James almost choked on the air. "What?"

Remus simply smirked. "Nothing. Just wondering why you're walking like your knees don't work."

"Because I almost tripped on the chair!"

"Riiight," Remus drawled. "Must've been a hell of a staircase."

James grumbled and busied himself by fixing his tie. The two began walking towards their classroom, and James tried not to think about what Remus had said earlier, but he still couldn't stop taking glances at him from time to time.

Remus noticed, and his smirk widened.

James's brows furrowed. "What?"

"You look like a lovesick fool."

"I do not," James muttered, straightening up his posture like it would do something.

"Evans finally said yes to a date?"

"I didn't ask her out."

Remus blinked. "Really?"

"Yeah. I don't know why everyone keeps assuming that!" James threw his hands in exasperation.

"Maybe because you spent years infiltrating her?"

"So?" James huffed. "Is it unbelievable that I just... stopped?"

"Yeah, Prongs. Very."

"Well, she isn't the reason why."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"So... was it Y/n, then?"

"Yes!"

Silence.

The two stopped dead in their tracks.

James froze as if he had been hit by a full-body Petrificus Totalus. His eyes went wide. His mouth opened and then closed. Opened. And closed it again.

"...Moony."

Remus sighed deeply. "Since when?"

James stammered. "Six— six months ago— how did you—?"

Remus slung an arm over his shoulder, guiding them back to motion. "Did you know your ears go bright red when you're jealous?"

"They do not!"

"And your wand hand? Twitchy. Like it's about to launch a full-scale magical assault every time someone mentions Regulus Black."

James groaned, stopping again from walking. He buried his face against his hands. "I— I proposed it, you know? Keeping it a secret. Thought it would be easier that way. House rivalry and all that. But Moony... I love her."

Remus offered a tight-lipped smile. "You know, Prongs, for what's it worth, I was more surprised that you lasted six months keeping it hidden when we know your mouth is relentless."

James grumbled. "I don't even care that she was a Slytherin. Didn't matter when I met her. Didn't matter when she was in the same house as that slimy, smelly, Snivellus or that platinum-haired Malfoy.. And I know we vowed to make the Slytherins' lives miserable but— she made me realize how stupid that was. And I'm just... scared, mate. Scared of what people will say. Scared she'll be the one getting crap for it. What if Sirius finds out and gives her a thirty-minute dramatic monologue about betrayal?"

"Pads does have a thing for theatricals."

"I just— I just want to tell people, but I don't know how."

Remus turned, offering a warm smile. "You're the bravest person I know, Prongs. The same bloke who challenged seven-year Slytherins to a duel because they said McGonagall played favorites. The one who tried riding a Hippogriff during Care of Magical Creatures class because 'you felt a connection.'"

"That was one time."

"My point still stands. Don't worry about us. You're our mate, and we'll stand by you. Pads will be mad for like... 3 hours. 5 hours max. Then he'll get over it."

James nodded slowly, thinking about it. And the two started walking again.

"Besides, if you don't say something soon, someone will ask her out. Like Regulus. Again."

James immediately frowned.

"I hate that smug little—"

"Then act like a Gryffindor, mate. Stake your claim before someone else does."

Just as James puffed his chest like a man preparing for war, Sirius and Peter came bounding down the hall, both looking disheveled and full of chaotic energy.

“What’s taking you two so long?” Sirius barked.

“You two planned a prank for Snivellus without us?" Peter asked.

“We didn't." Remus calmly grabbed Peter by the collar and started dragging him down the hall. “You’re on a roll today, mate. Let’s save that energy for class.”

“Wait— what? Moony, I can walk!”

James stared after them, then turned back to Sirius with determination burning in his eyes.

“I’m telling her today,” He said.

Sirius blinked. “Telling who what?”

"Her." James ignored him and marched off, heart pounding, tie still a disaster.

Peter nudged James in the ribs for the third time in under five minutes. "She's looking at you again," He hissed, barely masking his grin.

"No, she's not." James quipped, not even looking up from his parchment.

"She is," Peter insisted. "Left corner, three rows down, red hair— ringing any bells?"

"I don't care," James grumbled under his breath.

"She's twirling her hair."

"Maybe it's her habit."

"She's twirling it while looking at you. And she just bit her lip."

James groaned and finally looked up, just in time to catch Lily looking away, a pink hue dusting her cheek.

"Mate. She wants you."

Sirius, who had been fighting sleep next to Remus, yawned and leaned forward to join the conversation.

"Who wants who?"

"Lily," Peter whispered too loudly. "She's looking at Prongs like she wants to tutor him. If you catch my drift."

Remus rolled his eyes. "Please shut up."

"Well, well. Look who's finally getting attention from his lifetime crush." Sirius grinned.

"Was." James corrected immediately. "Was my lifelong crush."

Peter gawked at him. "You're moving on?"

"Moved."

"With who?" Sirius asked, suddenly alert. "Do we know her?"

James coughed. "Focus. Minnie is watching."

But that didn't stop the torture.

Once McGonagall dismissed the class, James immediately stood up, with three boys trailing behind him. Just as they were about to round the corner, Lily immediately showed up.

"Potter," She said, immediately stopping them dead in their tracks. "Can I talk to you for a sec?"

He stiffened. But before he could answer, Sirius was dragging Peter and Remus by their collars.

"We'll be waiting there." He said, smiling sweetly.

"Is this about Head duties?" James asked.

"Oh, Merlin, she's talking to him." Peter whispered, elbowing Remus, as they all peek out their heads to look at James and Lily nearby.

"No— no," Lily huffed out a smile while shaking her head softly. "I was just wondering if you're planning to go to Hogsmeade this weekend? You usually go with your friends, but... thought maybe you'd want a change."

James blinked. Wait— what? Was this Lily Evans asking him out? Oh, no. It's too late because he already had a perfect, lovely, incredibly sexy, secret girlfriend who just last night—

"I'm actually... not available this weekend." He said, glancing down his parchment.

"Oh." Lily's face fell. "Got plans?"

James coughed. "Yeah, plans. Private plans. Secret ones. Very private. Very secret."

Peter and Sirius's faces contorted into a confused one as they watched Lily's smile faded. Remus sighed, clearly knowing what was the reason.

Lily blinked, trying to regain her composure. "Well... let me know if anything changes." She said before turning away.

James shrugged before going to where his friends were, and Sirius wasted no time in grabbing the back of his robes and cornering him to the wall.

"What the bloody hell was that?!" Sirius asked, throwing his hands in the air.

James blinked. "What?"

"Evans was flirting with you!"

"I... noticed."

"And you turned her down?!"

"Why not?"

"Why—" Sirius closed his eyes and tried to calm himself for a second. "Why not?!"

"Prongs... are you sure you're okay? I mean, that was Evans. The love of your life—!" Peter added.

James frowned deeply. "She's not the love of my life!"

Sirius's mouth opened. Then closed. And opened again.

"Okay, what?" He asked.

James looked at Remus for silent help.

"Prongs here... wants to tell you guys something." Remus walked beside James and patted his shoulder for encouragement.

James sighed deeply. "I've been dating Y/n."

Silence.

More silence.

"Slytherin Y/n?" Sirius clarified.

"Yes."

"Hot, terrifying, definitely has-a-dagger-in-her leg, Y/n?"

“Yes.”

"Intimidating-walks-like-a-queen-and-slays-men-with-her-eyes, Y/n?"

"...Yes."

Sirius looked at him, bewildered. "And you didn't tell me?!"

"I thought you'd be mad!"

"I am mad!" Sirius yelled. "Mad that you pulled a Slytherin goddess and didn't give me any heads up?! What kind of best mate are you?"

"What—"

"You, a certified tosser, bagged someone like her?"

"I am not a tosser!"

"You are a first-class, deluxe tosser with curly hair!"

"I am very hot, thank you very much."

“Hot? HOT? Prongs, you look like a broomstick that rolled through a pile of dung and developed a personality.”

James lunged, and within seconds, he had Sirius in a headlock, aggressively messing up his already disheveled hair.

Peter clapped and smiled widely. "Yeah, get him, Prongs!" He cheered.

“Take it back!” James shouted.

“Never!” Sirius wheezed, struggling against James. “You're a mediocre seven at best!"

“I’m an eight point five! And my mum thinks I’m handsome!”

Remus, who thought this would be a calm conversation, shook his head and left them alone. "I hate my bloody life."

The Great Hall was in its usual evening chaos— floating candles, plates clattering, murmurs and laughs flying in the air. You sat at the Slytherin table, elegantly picking at a piece of corn while Narcissa talked about her love adventures. Both of you two refused to eat without Andromeda, who had been late because she's tutoring a third-year student.

"I've already picked a location," Narcissa gushed. "The Astronomy Tower at sunset. I know it's going to be good. And Lucius said he has a surprise planned. Can you believe that?"

"A surprise? What's he going to do? Part his hair in a different way than usual?"

"Hey!" Narcissa lightly slapped your arm. "You take that back. Lucius is thoughtful, romantic, and regal."

"He's got an emotional depth of a teaspoon." You reminded her.

"Well, at least someone's taking me out on Valentine's Day."

You frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're seeing someone, aren't you?" Narcissa's eyes narrowed at you. "I've seen the way you disappear after curfew hours and then go back the next morning with that dazed, post-snogging look. Is it Regulus?"

You choked. "What the hell are you talking about?!"

Narcissa shrugged. "I just assumed because he's your type."

You opened your mouth to say something, but someone caught your line of vision. From across the hall, sitting at the Gryffindor table, was James. James, who had been looking at you with such intensity that it made your stomach flip.

You offered him a smile— a barely noticeable one from the eyes of the masses. But it still made his heart flutter. That small act from you seemed to relax his nerves, the tension from his shoulders lifting off slightly.

At the Gryffindor table, Remus had also noticed it. He gave James a subtle nudge. "Go on, mate. It's your time. You should ask her out now."

James blinked. "Right— right now?"

"Go on, it's almost Valentine's Day. Go full cliche like the man you were."

James chewed on his lips, clearly nervous. He had been doing this for years with the wrong girl, and he should've been used to it. But right now, almost all of his courage was gone, which was shocking because he's James bloody Potter.

"Five o'clock," Peter whispered dramatically. "Baby Black has entered the scene."

"Bloody hell," Sirius's brows furrowed. "He's holding a flower. What the bloody hell is he doing with a flower?"

"Where would he go— ooohh— is he going for Y/n?" Peter asked gleefully, too happy to stir the pot.

James didn't waste a second. He stood up so fast he almost knocked Peter out of the chair.

The entire Great Hall paused, but James didn't care. He walked— practically stormed— towards the Slytherin table.

Time went slow around him, and the background faded into a blur. All he could see was you looking at him with wild, confused eyes and a small plate of corn in your hand.

Be brave, James. He told himself. Be brave.

Once he reached the Slytherin table, he could feel his heart thrumming against his chest, that he almost thought it would burst right there and then. People were staring at him like he was mad— and maybe he was utterly, truly, mad for you. Even the professors craned their necks, and Dumbledore had even paused mid-sip of his tea, clearly entertained.

Narcissa was the first to break the silence.

"Can I help you with something, Potter?" She asked, placing a hand under her chin.

James stammered. "I— I need to talk to your friend."

You blinked. "James— I mean, Potter— what are you doing?"

"The right thing." He said, sighing deeply. He turned to examine the room, whose eyes were placed on him like hawks. He dramatically placed his hand on his chest. "I have something to say and it's very important!"

Everyone fell silent.

"Yes, I'm a Gryffindor. Yes, I don't like most of the Slytherins. Yes, I said I'd rather kiss a Niffler than a snake..." James inhaled deeply. "But life is weird. Love is weirder. And sometimes you fall for someone who threatens to hex your eyebrows and steals your pudding without asking."

You couldn't help a wide grin breaking at your face despite the whispers around you.

James pointed at himself. "So, yes. That's right! I'm a big dork and I listen to emo muggle music..." He turned, tugging you lightly and wrapping an arm around your shoulder. "...And I'm dating her."

Chaos erupted.

Regulus stepped forward, flower forgotten. "Potter— what...?"

James shot him a glare. "Do you have a problem with that?"

Regulus blinked. “I—”

“She’s mine.”

“You’re—”

“MINE.”

James wrapped a possessive arm around your waist like he was claiming treasure. Then the two of you walked from the Great Hall despite the loud whispers and eyes around you.

“I think I need a drink,” Sirius muttered.

“Can we all pretend that never happened?” Remus sighed.

Andromeda, who just walked in, cluelessly pointed at the two of you. "What the hell was that?" She asked Narcissa.

In the corridor, you turned to James, pouting. “Love, I really appreciate your whole dramatic, publicly-declared love monologue thing. It was very sweet. But I haven’t eaten yet.”

James grinned, smug. “It’s okay. Moony packed us food in the kitchen.”

Your eyes lit up. “Really?”

“And,” James added, pulling you closer, “Maybe after dinner… we can do what we did last night again? Hmm?”

You laughed genuinely, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Then you kissed him so hard it stole the air from his lungs.

Somewhere in the castle, Sirius Black screamed into a pillow.

©kjhbsies

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[hhoneylemon]

‘cause i lo-lo-love the chase

summary: you finally kiss your best friend after burgers and slushies. he’s ecstatic. 2k words.

inspired by this song and post

mark is sick to his stomach.

he feels like a pervert. every time you hang out, he’s watching you. he watches the way your face lights up as you laugh, how you apply lip balm every now and then, the face you make when you focus on the show playing on the tv.

his crush on you is embarrassing. could he even call it a crush at this point? he’d throw himself in front of a car for you. you probably wouldn’t even feel special if he said that, he’d do that for any civilian to make sure they were safe. feelings suck.

is it enough that he waits when each seance dog episode comes out so he can watch it with you when you’re free? he stays off of social media until then, opting for going flying, studying extra, watching random shows he’s never heard of. the gritting feeling of want and anticipation are almost unbearable. note the word almost; the way you ask him to explain something to you, listening to his dorky ramble, the way you sit side-to-side with him on the couch while watching, the way you give truthful opinions about the episode you’d just watched with him. you make it all worth it.

he loves you. he realized he did a long time ago, then decided to hold that in him and ‘wait for the right time.’ he regrets that sentiment when he watches you go out with other guys, a harsh grip squeezing his heart just to throw it to the ground and stepping on it repeatedly.

at least the relationships never lasted. at least he was always there to pick you back up with a hug and the offer to watch a terrible movie to get over it. it’s never failed to work.

now, mark sits on your bedroom floor as he scribbles down the answers to your current homework assignment. you sit on your bed, hands thrown up as you complain about one of your teachers. he’s only half listening, trying to focus on the work to complete it.

“and she lost the paper, but somehow it’s my fault? now i’m knocked down a whole letter grade because she isn’t good at her job. i literally have a witness who saw me turn it in.”

mark nods in response, finishing his paper. he leans his head back onto your mattress, looking up at you. he offers a dopey grin. you offer a small smile in exchange before sliding off the bed and sitting beside him on the floor.

“sounds shitty. i hope you can do make up work to bring it up.”

“yeah.”

you murmur in response, grunting in annoyance. mark takes a moment to soak your image into his memory. the setting sun is casting a golden glow onto your skin, illuminating and shadowing the right parts of your face. he finds his mouth has gone dry.

“it’s almost dinnertime. you might wanna get home to your mom, mark.”

you twist to face him better, a kind warmth appearing on your face. he nods, almost disappointed. he grabs his school bag, standing with a little grunt of effort. you stand and follow him to your window, unlocking it for him as he slips into the straps of his bag. he smiles at you with a sickening sweetness.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”

you nod as he climbs out, watching him with quiet fondness. the way the soft breeze ruffles his hair has you in a chokehold, the puppy-like look on his face as he debates leaving or staying longer in his mind. he hovers off of your room, feet kicked behind his thighs as he looks at you.

“yeah. burger mart, right?”

he grins, nodding. the way his eyes crinkle at the corners has your heart beating a little faster. 

“yep, sounds good. bye!”

mark takes off into the sky. you watch him until you’ve lost sight of him. that’s when you close and lock your window, sitting on your bed and pulling out your phone while waiting until you hear your mom calling you to come eat dinner.

( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

mark hates his life.

he kept you waiting! he got sidetracked stopping a bank shooting as invincible. he was twenty minutes late as he jogged into burger mart, scanning the tables to try and find you.

you sat alone in a booth in the far corner, sipping on a slushy. he slides into the seat across from you, offering an apologetic look.

“sorry, i was superhero-ing.”

“all good.”

you grin, biting at your bottom lip. a few chuckles escape you as you point at him.

“your, uh, shirt is backwards.”

mark looks down. the pattern of his tee was missing, not to mention the tag sticking out of his collar. he sighs, ears turning red in embarrassment. he then struggles with sliding his arms into his sleeves and turning the shirt around, fixing it. you smile in amusement the whole time, holding back a laugh. he was cute. and a loser.

“ugh. whatever. what do you want to eat, i’ll pay for it.”

your eyes widen at his words, shaking your head.

“you don’t have to, it’s okay.”

you begin standing, only for him to hold up a hand. he rises to his feet and shimmies out of the booth, already pulling his wallet from his back pocket.

“no, it’s okay. i don’t mind, really.”

you nibble on your bottom lip, but give in anyways. you tell mark your usual order and he walks to the counter to order. he comes back in a few minutes, an exasperated look on his face.

“i’m so glad i don’t work here anymore. the cashier looked like her life was sucked outta her. i know the feeling.”

you laugh in response, relaxing into the booth. you forgot what it was like to hang out with mark.  it was like a warm hug; comforting and safe, you could tell him anything and he would only mildly judge you, then he would offer terrible advice after.

one of the employees beings over a paper bag that contained your food. the two of you spend a long time chatting in the booth, long after you finish eating. mark only ushers you out after he noticed his old manager had clocked in.

“i wasn’t done my slushy.”

you complain, walking beside him down the street. he offers an apologetic smile.

“we can get one from somewhere else. there’s a 7/11 a few blocks down?”

“sounds good.”

he nods, the two of you falling back into a comfortable silence. you travel downtown, finding the 24 hour store that hides with a few unused buildings. a nail salon sits beside it, currently closed after a villain was thrown through one of the walls. across the street is a parking garage, presumably for the places people work at down the block.

mark grabs your wrist, pulling you into the 7/11 with a laugh.

“what’s so interesting about the parking garage? you scared tether tyrant is hiding in there?”

you playfully roll your eyes, following him to the slushy machine. the blue raspberry is out of order, as always. the revelation makes mark groan and clutch his forehead, as if his two other favorite flavors aren’t in stock.

you grab a medium cup and reach for your favorite flavor, causing his nose to shrivel.

“be adventurous. get the root beer, it’s so good. trust.”

“i will not trust, mark.”

you laugh at him, filling the cup halfway. just to make him smile, you fill the other half with root beer. you get the desired outcome, mark’s face housing a gentle smile as he reaches for his own cup to fill.

when you got to the cashier, he cheated. he murmured something about tether tyrant in the parking garage—of course you looked outside, nervous, as though a superhero wasn’t standing right beside you. you looked back to berate him for tricking you, just to see he’s already paid.

he walks you outside with a grin, sipping from his slushy. you reach over and nudge his shoulder with your own, rolling your eyes. 

“you’re insufferably a gentleman.”

he raises an eyebrow, a his grin turning teasing.

“such big words coming from you.”

you groan and massage your temples with your free hand. he’s such a dork.

the two of you lean against the wall of the 7/11, making small talk as you sip from your slushies. he had gotten mountain dew and cherry, his other two favorites. they stained his tongue a weird shade when he sticks it out at you after you poke fun of him. you smile weakly in turn.

maybe this would be your end. the sunset illuminating his features, him animatedly talking about who knows what, smelling like citrus and mint and something so incredibly mark.

you nervously fiddle with the pockets of your pants as you walk to the nearby trashcan. you throw your cup away before mark’s right at your side, throwing his away as well. his mouth is still moving, though you’ve long lost what he’s been saying. the two of you walk into the parking lot while he continues talking, and them he smiles.

oh, it’s devastating. your heart stutters in your chest. your brain stops working. you do something stupid.

your hands find his cheeks. his eyes widen and his mouth finally stops moving, his cheeks turning pink. you pull him close and your lips meet.

it’s slow, soft. his lips are cold from the slushy. he tastes like mountain dew and cherries. you feel him move, so you open your eyes and part your guys’ lips. mark’s eyes open in confusion, only to widen when you begin laughing.

“oh, mark.”

he’s confused. but, oh, are you shorter than usual? he looks closer and—he’s not even on the ground. his entire face flushes as he touches back down, hands gently resting on your hips.

“god, that’s embarrassing.”

“do i kiss that good? you gonna fly away if i do it again, fly boy?”

he averts his gaze for a moment, shutting his eyes. he can’t believe you’re bullying him over this—

“do it again?”

his eyes fly open and he turns to look at you. your own eyes widen in response, a tad of uncertainty appearing in your eyes and creeping around in your brain.

“shit, sorry. i won’t do it again, sorry, i just—“

mark leans in, lips pressing softly to yours. he gently sighs against you, savoring the flavor of you. he loves root beer.

he pulls away when he needs air, eyes fluttering open to take in the sight of you. you’re beautiful. he smiles big, happiness radiating off of him in waves.

“i can walk you home now.”

“alright.”

you walk beside him, walking the few blocks to get back to your house. he walks you all the way up to tour door before stopping you, grabbing you by the wrist. he offers a gentle smile.

“hey. i hope this means something. like—i can take you out soon?”

a smile hints at your lips. you nod, arms wrapping around his neck.

“sounds good.”

mark leans in and kisses you for a third time that night. this time, his lips can’t help but form a smile. he can’t help if he lifts off the ground again, either. he also can’t help that he brought you up with him, slowly spinning the two of you together.

he drops back down, thumbs gently rubbing against the flesh of your hips. his forehead finds yours as he bites his bottom lip.

“same time on friday?”

you snort, fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck.

“sure thing, fly boy.”

masterlist

[remmicksmuse]

remmick is obsessed with reader once she’s on her period

knock knock! you weren’t expecting remmick to come around you once your cycle started because you thought vampires hated the smell and the blood coming from you overall. once you opened the door, you could barely see his face since it was at the dead of night. the only thing you could see was in glimmering, red eyes. “hey baby, gonna let me in?”he cooed with sense of hunger in his voice. of course you would let him in, you always did. you loved the way his head would always find it’s way between your thighs in an instant, in any situation. you welcomed him in and he hummed in satisfaction. you watched his face expression to see if he knew you were bleeding. his big hands clasp the back of your thighs & lifted you up to straddle his waist and carries you upstairs to your bedroom. before he gets to your bedroom, he kissing you all over face & neck, enjoying the feeling of you squirming in his arms. he pushes the door open with his leg and shuts it behind him.

you felt a sudden pain in your tummy and it made you wince. he gently places you on the edge of the bed and kneels in front of you, rubbing your knees. you breath quickens because you’re worried to let remmick see you like this. his rough hands glide up your pretty blue & white dress. “w-wait remmick, you can’t” you stopped his head from diving in by putting your hand on his chest. he looked up at you with confusion and concern, “what’s wrong baby”. “i’m on my cycle right now” you looked at him with guilt and hoping he wouldn’t leave you disgusted. a scoff leaves his mouth and shakes his head, “i know that, i smell your leaking pussy from a mile away, darlin’ and i bet it taste even better with all that blood coming out of ya’”. you couldn’t help but gasp with surprise, “b-but that’s so nasty-”. he cut you off in an instant, “well i’m nastier so lean back”. you were hesitant but still laid back in your soft bed. his hands lifted your dress all the way up to your neck so he could give you’re desperate tits attention as well. he stood up and crawled above so he can suck & swirl his tongue your tit, fiddling your other nipple between his fingers. all the attention on your chest made your back arch. once he got you worked up and your pretty tits had marks all over them, he placed himself back between your legs. he pulled your bloody panties down and pushed your knees to your chest. he wanted to take his time since he’s never tasted you while you were bleeding and made sure you enjoyed this as well as he did. he gave you hot kisses in your inner thighs, working his way up to your heat. once he reached where you needed him most, he made a sloppy & slow kiss to your clit. he felt your hips stuttering into his mouth and reach for more. he dragged his tongue all the way from your hole to your bud. his tongue already made you twitch and threaten to close your thighs because your cycle is making you more sensitive. he felt your shaking thighs clench around his head as he lapped at your clit and snuck his big hands between them & shoving them open so he could shove his tongue deeper inside you. you felt you getting closer every time he flicked his tongue over your sensitive bud. he puts his hand over your tummy and presses down, trying to make you squirt all over his blood-covered face. the pleasure starts to get too much and you try to move his hands & head off you without shaking and whimpering under him. he slides in his thick fingers and curls them, pushing you over the edge and your cum all over his face, leaving you heaving. you sit up on you’re shoulder as you catch a glimpse of his licking his fingers clean. he whipes your blood mixed with cum on his palm and licks it off his head. the sights leaves you dizzy and you flop back into your bed, the orgasm leaving you exhausted. remmick stands up from the ground and lifts you into his lap before sitting on the bed. he pulls your dress back down for you and lets out a chuckle from your worn out expression. “next time you’re pussy’s bleeding, holler my name and i’ll clean it all up for it.”, that’s the last you hear before falling asleep in his big, warm arms.

[mrsbarnesblog]

i've got you

masterlist

summary: after getting a terrifying message from you manipulative ex, you lock yourself in the Camerons’ guest bathroom, spiraling into panic as everything starts to fall apart. what you don't expect is Rafe walking in and completely losing it when he realizes what’s going on.

word count: 2k

warnings: SA (non-consensual recording and sex while being drunk), blackmailing, panic attack, protective Rafe

The guest bathroom in the Cameron’s house felt like the safest place at the moment, and the second you closed the door, you collapsed on the floor, constantly buzzing with your phone still in your hand. 

It’s been like that for the last hour—endless messages from your ex, Ethan, who hasn’t wanted to leave you alone since you two broke up a few weeks ago. But when you were sitting with Sarah in the kitchen while she was cooking something on the stove and your phone lit up with a message, a video of you from him, your heart dropped to your stomach. 

Your hands started shaking violently, tears blurred your vision, as you couldn’t believe what you saw. It was just a preview, just a few seconds, but it was enough to understand. It was you on the bed, the dress from a few months ago when you went out with Ethan and some friends was gathered around your waist. You remember being drunk, barely conscious when he took you home, and then the next morning with pain all over your body. 

You didn’t remember having sex.

Sarah was oblivious to your breakdown, and you quickly managed to slip away from the kitchen, mumbling to her that you needed to use the restroom. 

You sat on the floor, back against the wall, staring at your phone screen with your heart thudding so hard it echoed in your ears. A consuming panic washed over you when messages kept coming from him.

Ethan (1:08 PM):

You really think I won’t do it? You think I won’t show them what you let me record? And i have more

Ethan (1:09 PM):

You looked so sweet in that video. Moaning for me like a slut. I bet Sarah’s brother would LOVE to see it.

Your blood turned to ice.

You don’t remember agreeing to anything. You would never have let that happen. He must’ve taken the pictures and videos without you knowing. You’d trusted him, loved him, been so fucking stupid—

It must be a nightmare. It should be, right? Ethan was bothering you, trying to convince you to go back to him, but straight up blackmailing you? You curled into yourself tighter, digging your nails into your thighs, as hiccups and cries shook your whole body. You couldn’t catch your breath, couldn’t stop your mind from racing because there was nothing you could do. No one who could help. And if those images were released? If they were sent to Rafe? You would be done for. 

The door cracked open before you could even register it, and the person whom you wanted to see the least in that state stood in the doorway. 

“Yo,” Rafe said casually. “Sarah said you were—“ Your head whipped up in panic at his voice, eyes growing wide, before you started desperately wiping at your face to hide the flow of your tears. But he froze when he saw you on the floor, looking so small and helpless. 

“The fuck—“ He muttered, stepping inside slowly, cautiously. “Hey, what the fuck’s goin’ on?” 

“Nothing.” You croak, voice raspy. “I’m fine. Just— just leave, Rafe.” 

“You’re crying. You don’t look fine.” 

“I said I’m—” You started to snap, but your voice cracked halfway through, and then you choked back a sob, curling in again.

“Fuck.” He muttered again under his breath, kneeling in front of you. “What happened?”

You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut, as if it would make the situation not real. But you couldn’t hide the way your face scrunched as if you were in pain or hide the bubbling feeling of pure panic, and Rafe saw that. “It’s nothing. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Who hurt you, hm? You can talk to me, I promise.” His voice was smooth and soft as never before. When he raised his hand to softly brush the side of your face, it was slow and cautious to not scare you even more. You open your mouth to lie, to say that it was just stress, or your parents, or your period, but your phone, lying face up on the tiles, lit up with another message, and your whole body went rigid.

Rafe’s eyes flicked down, instantly seeing the name, then looked back at you with curiosity and a hint of defensiveness. He knew the story between you and your ex. He saw how he treated you, saw you struggling to keep it all together, and he was the first one to congratulate you when you finally announced your breakup. 

So seeing you react like that told him everything he needed to know. 

“Let me see.” It was not an order, but his words were firm as he took hold of your wrist. You shook your head violently, wanting to hide your phone and downplay everything. 

“No— Rafe, don’t look!” 

He snatched your phone away before you could even process it, fingers moving quickly to unlock it. 

The heavy silence filled the room when his eyes scanned your screen, seeing the message you didn’t even read yourself. “What. The. Fuck.” He looked up at you, jaw clenched, eyes wide with barely contained rage. “Is this real?”

He suddenly stood up, his actions almost frantic and panicked, and you jump up from the floor right after him as if automatically. You wanted to rip your phone away, but there was no point anymore—he saw everything, and you were way too tired and exhausted to fight anyway. 

The silence that hung in the bathroom was suffocating, crushing, pulsing with the weight of everything that had just been revealed. Rafe stood there like a statue, gripping your phone so tightly his knuckles turned bone white, and his chest rose and fell with each sharp, shaky inhale, like he was barely containing an explosion. His jaw was clenched so hard you thought he might grind his teeth to dust. You could see the way his whole body was vibrating with fury, and when his eyes lifted from the phone to meet yours, they weren’t just angry. They were wild. Dark. Protective in a way that made your throat close up.

“What the fuck is this?” He spat, low and dangerous, his voice barely more than a growl. “What the actual fuck am I looking at right now?”

You couldn’t answer. Your lips parted, but nothing came out. You weren’t even crying anymore, you were just frozen. Humiliated. All you could do was curl your arms around your body tighter as the shame flooded you, soaked into your skin, and made you want to disappear. Rafe’s eyes dropped back to the screen, and you followed his gaze as he was staring at the first image. It was you, lying on Ethan’s bed. Your head turned to the side, half-lidded eyes, a soft expression that you now recognized as tipsy, barely coherent. The straps of your tank top were pushed down around your upper arms. No bra. The thin sheet pulled across your body did nothing to hide your exposed chest. One of the other photos was taken from behind with you on your stomach, bare, the lower half of your body completely visible, the shape of your thighs and your ass captured without any shame.

“I didn’t know.” You whispered, your voice cracking and dry, and it felt like you couldn’t even breathe properly. “I swear to God, Rafe… I didn’t know he took them.” You didn’t look up, feeling shame and embarrassment washing over you. “H-he sent me a video.” You whispered so quietly you weren’t even sure if you said it aloud at first, your eyes zeroing on the floor as your whole doby went numb. But Rafe heard you. He tensed instantly, hands stiffening around your phone still in his hand.

“A video?” He repeated, slowly. Carefully. His voice was like the calm before a hurricane. “What video?”

You nodded, trembling. “Of us. Of me, mostly. I—I was drunk, and he filmed everything. I don’t even remember it, but h-he sent it to me today.” 

You broke again then, sliding down on the floor, helpless, sobbing so hard your body curled in on itself, your hands covering your face, unable to bear the thought of Rafe picturing you like that—not just naked, but used. Taken advantage of. 

For a long moment, Rafe didn’t speak. He didn’t move. He just stood there, chest rising and falling with rapid, shallow breaths, phone still gripped in his hand like he was about to smash it against the wall. Then, slowly, he lowered it on the countertop, and something in him cracked. Your cries, how desperate and sad they sounded, made him lose his mind, made him want to destroy everything and everyone who hurt you. 

His hands ran through his hair roughly as he looked away, trying to keep it together, despite fuming from the inside. But it wasn’t working. His entire body was tense, like a live wire ready to snap. He pounded his fist into the bathroom wall so hard that you heard a crack, and you jumped from the loud sound. The last thing you wanted was for him to hate you or to see you in a different light after those pictures.  

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” He said immediately, his voice breaking. He dropped to his knees in front of you, fingers twitching like he didn’t know how to touch you to not scare you even more. “I’m not mad at you. I swear I’m not. I’m just—I’m losing my fucking mind here, baby.” That word slipped out like it was natural for him, and your breath hitched. Rafe’s hands cupped your cheeks, his blue, wild eyes looking for yours, while he tried to wipe your tears.

“That motherfucker is dead.” He hissed, voice rough with emotion. “I’m not even fucking joking. I will kill him. He touched you when you were barely conscious? He fucking recorded you? Sent that shit to you as a threat? Threatened to show me?”

“He knows what you mean to me. He wants you to see me that way so I wouldn’t have any choice but to go back to him.” You whisper. “I didn’t want you to see me like that. I just—fuck, Rafe, I feel so ashamed. I feel disgusting. I didn’t want you to see this version of me, not through his eyes.”

“You think I give a single fuck about how you look in those videos or photos? About what you did with him?”

You looked down again, shaking, unable to meet his eyes.

“I do care.” He said, softer, lifting your face up again. “But not because you were naked. I care because it wasn’t your choice. That wasn’t you, baby. That was him taking advantage of you. And that makes me want to destroy every bone in his fucking body.”

You finally met his gaze again. His jaw was clenched so tight you could hear it grind, and his eyes were glistening with the kind of rage that came from caring too much.

Rafe leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours. His hands were on your thighs now, still shaking slightly. “You’re mine. Even if we’re not together yet. ” He said, barely above a whisper, like it was a truth he hadn’t even realized until that moment. “I wanted you for too long, let that scumbag treat you the way you didn’t deserve. But you’re fucking mine, and I swear to God, I’m not letting anyone hurt you like that again.” You closed your eyes, a tear slipping down your cheek.

“I’m gonna take care of this.” He muttered, so close you could feel his breath. “You don’t have to do a thing. You don’t even have to see that piece of shit again. I’m gonna make sure he never gets near you, never gets the chance to make you feel this way. Nobody will ever see that stuff, you hear me?”

“Rafe…” Your voice cracked again, barely holding together, tugging him closer by the shirt, seeking more comfort.

“Shh.” He whispered, brushing your tear-streaked cheek with his thumb. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you. I’ve fucking got you.”

[yukioos]

hiii, can you wirte something about megumi and reader going out with nobara and itadori, and them start asking questions about their relationship and start teasing them (idk if that makes sense, english is not my first language, i love your writing!! 😅🫶)

you and megumi go on a double date with yuji and nobara

“come on, megumi! you and y/n should go on a double date with me and nobara! it’ll be so fun, we can just go out to lunch or something—“ yuji exclaimed, waving around his hands and balling up his fists with a proud smile.

megumi kept a blank expression, but was nearly glaring, “we’re not on a first name basis, itadori.” he crossed his arms, looking down at the shorter boy.

he, in return, laughed, “oh, come on megumi, you know we are! stop trying to change the subject!” his eyes widened and he smiled, waving to someone behind the darker-haired boy. he shouted, “hey, y/n, come here!”

megumi turned his head, and his expression softened once you walked over to him, and gave him a big fat kiss on his soft cheek. he interlocked your pinkies and gave you a small smile, softly trying to pull you back due to how close yuji’s face was to yours.

yuji was right up in your face, causing you to tilt your head back, as he had no concept of personal space. he asked, “do you wanna go with me and nobara on a double date?”

you glanced at megumi, hoping he would answer, but he didn’t. he stared right at you, depending on you to respond for the both of you. eventually, after some thinking, you answered, “sure, why not?”

yuji rejoiced, “yay, it’ll be so fun, trust me! does tomorrow at two in the afternoon work for you? ooh, we should go to that soba restaurant you both like! nobara really likes it too, she always orders this one meal—“

a hand collided with the back of the boy’s head, causing him to groan and whine. megumi stated, “you didn’t even let her respond.”

you chuckled, “two in the afternoon works for us both, and i’m sure the two of us are fine with soba.”

yuji rubbed the back of his head, and he winced, “right, great! i have to be somewhere though, so see you both later!” he quickly scattered off to god knows where, tripping on his way to his room, letting soft curses spill from his mouth.

you spoke before you thought, “can you help me pick out an outfit?” and glanced up at your boyfriend, who stood tall next to you.

he nodded, and the two of you headed towards your room. once you had found an outfit, and a day had passed, the two of you were sitting in a booth at a soba restaurant.

nobara placed her elbow on the table, and her chin on the palm of her hand. your and megumi’s knees touched, a slight reminder of his presence and love, although he didn’t show it in public often. yuji smiled and sat across from you, holding his cheeks in his hands.

the boy spoke, “you know, i was up all night thinking about how megumi must really love you.”

you tilted your head in confusion. where was this coming from?

yuji turned his head to nobara, who immediately turned hers to his, showing a grin. he stated, “you know, i was talking with y/n about all the plans and stuff, then he slapped me on the back of my head and was like, ‘you didn’t even let her respond.’”

the brunette tilted her head back, and asked, eyes focused on megumi across from her, “yeah, it seems like you show her subtle love and stuff. it’s clear the two of you are in deep, but do you not like physical touch or something? i see a lot of couples showing pda to each other but not you. why is that?”

“that’s none of your business.” megumi coldly replied, glaring at nobara and yuji.

“hey, hang on, i saw the two of you basically holding hands yesterday though!” the pink haired boy furrowed his eyebrows. he paused, “it was like the first time i saw the two of you put your hands on each other. do you not show pda often because you’re embarrassed? actually, i don’t believe that. you don’t show affection much in public because you want her all to yourself, right?” yuji ranted.

nobara bellowed, “oh, that’s definitely the reason! do you see how the two of them look at each other?”

“‘oh, y/n, i love you soooo much but i’m so nervous to show it to you!’” yuji teased, deepening his voice to act like megumi.

the dark haired boy frowned, trying to hide his face in his coat, “shut up,” he mumbled, “you guys are so embarrassing.”

his cheeks became warmer, and you rubbed his muscular arm, “oh, come on megs, that’s exactly how you sound!” you joined in on the teasing, causing him to glare at you too, but there was no hatred behind his eyes.

the couple across from you laughed, and as they held onto each other for dear life, you placed your hand on megumi’s cheek. you softly pushed your lips against his, running your hand through his soft hair. he let out a soft sigh and placed his hand on your waist, nearly smiling into the kiss.

you didn’t notice the way the two students’ laughter died out, and nor did megumi, but he sure noticed when he heard a click from a phone and a phone right in your faces.

the two of you pulled away from each other, and he reached for the phone, “delete it, itadori!”

he laughed, “absolutely not! the two of you look so cute here!” he turned around the camera, capturing a moment of intimacy between you and your lover. the two of you looked calm, and at peace, which caught megumi off guard.

he stood silent for a couple of seconds, eyes a bit wider and mouth slightly agape. he then averted his gaze at the table, then murmured, “whatever.”

you giggled, “send that photo to me, yuji.”

of course, megumi rolled his eyes, but a slight smile appeared on his face. he was glad to have such an amazing partner like you and great friends, although they annoyed him sometimes.

sorry this took a while to post, hope you like it! also thank you so much for 2000 followers and 3000 reblogs! i’m so glad to have so many people who love my work, and i hope they will continue to bring you joy

[rrysbabydoll]

Busy

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

CW: Explicit sexual content, dominant/submissive dynamics, spanking, power imbalance, emotional vulnerability, mild humiliation, tears, aftercare, consensual BDSM with soft limits.

Synopsis: Y/N gets bratty after Harry ignores her for a week.

You had a bad idea.

Not just any kind of bad idea, but the kind of bad idea that your sweet, sensitive self wouldn’t normally even think about acting on. Except… well, it had been a week.

A full, torturous week of Harry holed up in the studio, headphones half-off and hair a mess, obsessing over the final mixes of his album. He came home late. Ate silently. Fell into bed next to you smelling like vanilla and frustration. Every night, you’d curl into his side like a good girl, hoping he’d roll over, mouth at your shoulder and pull your panties down.

But every night?

Nothing.

So now, here you were, standing at the doorway of his at-home studio in your little sleep shirt, barely-there fabric, hem riding up every time you shifted your weight, sleeves falling past your knuckles, pouting so deeply your lip trembled. But not in the soft, sniffly way he was used to. No. You were being a brat.

"You're obsessed with that stupid album," you muttered, arms crossed.

Harry didn’t even flinch. He turned a knob and scribbled something on a notepad, his back to you.

You scoffed. “You're honestly being such an asshole.”

That did it.

His head turned, slowly. He looked over his shoulder, hair a little messy from running his hands through them over and over again.

“Come again?” His voice was low. Calm. But not amused.

You shifted on your feet, unsure now. This wasn’t your usual tone with him. You were the sweet one. The cry-easily one. The soft girl.

You swallowed. “Nothing.”

He leaned back in his chair and spread his thighs a little wider. His eyes dragged over you. “You’ve got about five seconds to come in here and say what you meant.”

You squirmed. Your plan hadn’t gone much further than this.

Still, your feet moved. You padded in, heart pounding. “I just meant… you haven’t touched me in days, Harry.”

He nodded, once. “I know, sweetheart. I’ve been busy.”

“That’s not fair,” you huffed, suddenly brave. “You always say that when you're working. What about me?”

He raised his eyebrows and didn’t blink. “What about you?”

You stared at him, the flush creeping up your neck. “I’m—I need you. But you don’t care.”

His jaw ticked. Slowly, he stood.

You watched him walk around the desk. He didn’t stop until he was in front of you, and still, his voice never rose.

“Let me get this straight,” he murmured. “You storm into my studio. In your little shirt. Acting like a brat. Talking back. All because I haven’t fucked you in a week?”

You bit your lip, nodding.

He tilted his head. “You think I don’t care about you because I’ve been finishing an album I’ve poured years into?”

That part stung. You didn’t mean it like that. You looked down.

“I didn’t mean—”

“No, baby. You did,” he said, quietly. “You meant it. You wanted to hurt me a little. Thought if you poked me hard enough, I’d snap.”

“I—”

“Be quiet.”

You closed your mouth.

He stepped closer, chest brushing yours. His hand found your jaw, not rough, but firm. His thumb pressed against your lower lip.

“You’re usually such a sweet thing,” he murmured. “What’s gotten into you, hmm?”

Your eyes welled up. Instinctively, you tilted toward him.

“I missed you,” you whispered.

“I know you did,” he said. “But that’s not how you tell me.”

“I’m sorry…”

He hummed. “You will be.”

Your stomach flipped.

He took your hand and walked you to the edge of the couch in the studio, small, low, the one he sat on between takes. He sat first, then pulled you over his lap, face-down, ass up. His hand ran gently down your back, toying with the hem of your shirt.

“I try so hard to be patient with you,” he murmured. “You’re usually so good for me. Sweet little thing. So why do you act like a brat when you know I’m barely holding it together?”

His hand smoothed over your ass once, then landed a sharp, open-palm slap that made your breath catch.

“Count for me.”

“O-One.”

Another. Firmer.

“Two.”

“You looked so pretty standing in that doorway,” he murmured. “So pretty, even when you’re being a little mean.”

Three. Four.

You gasped, hips twitching in his lap.

“Harry—”

“No talking,” he said gently. “Keep going.”

Five. Six. Seven.

Your voice trembled.

“Eight…”

By ten, your legs were shaking. You buried your face in your arm.

When he finally stopped, his hands smoothed over your warm skin. “That’s enough.”

You breathed in sharply, then again, like you were about to cry. But he gently moved you to stand between his legs.

“Take your shirt off.”

You blinked at him.

“I said take it off.”

You pulled the sleep shirt over your head, bare underneath, your nipples pebbled from a mix of cold air and nerves. He looked you over, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek.

“Get on the couch.”

You obeyed, knees sinking into the cushion.

“On your tummy.”

You froze.

You hesitated.

“I don’t want to,” you said softly. “I wanna look at you…”

His expression didn’t change. But his jaw clenched slightly. He moved closer.

“No.”

Your lip trembled. “But I just—”

“No,” he repeated. “You don’t get that tonight.”

You blinked fast. “Harry…”

“Get on your tummy.”

When you didn’t move right away, his voice came again, soft but unmistakably stern.

“Now.”

You turned, heart in your throat, and laid on your front. Your cheek pressed into the pillow, and tears began to slip down without permission.

He knelt behind you, strong hands parting your thighs. You whimpered, wanting, needing, his touch.

When he eased into you, slow and deep, you gasped sharply.

“You’ll take it,” he murmured. “You’ll take it and remember not to act out next time.”

You cried softly, face buried, hands curled in the pillow. Your hips twitched toward him, needy, even as your body quivered.

Halfway through, when you felt overwhelmed and aching and emotional, you reached behind blindly, searching for his hand.

He caught your wrist. Held it firmly.

“No touching.”

You sniffled. “I—I’m sorry…”

“I know,” he whispered. “But you still need to learn.”

You nodded into the pillow, crying quietly as he drove deeper, relentless but not cruel. You wanted to see his eyes, to see softness return, but he wouldn’t let you. He stayed behind you, keeping the space between you firm, no matter how much you squirmed.

When you came, it was with a sob in the pillow.

He pulled out slowly, breathing heavy, and tucked himself back into his sweats. The room fell quiet, save for your soft sniffles.

Then…

His hands—warm, wide, familiar—slid under your body. He lifted you gently and turned you over onto your back, then pulled you into his chest like you were made of glass.

His voice, finally, was soft again.

“Oh, baby…”

You curled into him immediately.

“I didn’t mean it,” you whispered, fists in his hoodie. “I missed you. I just—I don’t know what came over me—”

“I know, lovie. I know,” he whispered, kissing your temple over and over. “I shouldn’t have let it get this long. That’s on me.”

You clung to him, breathing in the familiar scent of his skin.

“I just wanted you to look at me,” you mumbled.

He pulled back, tilting your chin.

“I always look at you,” he murmured. “Always. Even when I’m tired. Even when I’m busy. You’re all I see, baby.”

You hiccuped.

“I didn’t like not touching you...”

“I didn’t like saying no,” he whispered. “But I had to. You needed to know you crossed a line.”

You nodded, eyes glassy.

“I was bad.”

“No,” he said firmly. “You’re never bad. Just a little bratty sometimes.”

You smiled through your tears.

He kissed your nose.

“You’re still my sweet girl.”

“Even when I make you mad?”

“I wasn’t mad,” he said. “Just… frustrated. And maybe a little hurt.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know.”

He rocked you gently, murmuring against your hair.

“Let me take care of you now,” he whispered. “You were good in the end. So good for me.”

You nodded, already dozing off in his arms.

He reached for a blanket and tucked it over you, laying back into the couch and holding you like you were the only thing he needed in the world.

And really, you were.

[sixxels]

babydoll

frat!gojo x shy!fem reader !!

part 1 ! part 2 ! part 3 !

final !!

wc : 11.8k (haha)

disclaimer !! SMUT FINALLY. slight sukuna x reader, slow burn, fluff, angst/comfort, yearning satoru, whipped satoru, satoru is just so enamoured with reader omg. follows the ‘was i just a bet?’ premise!! reader is implied to wear very cutesy kinds of clothings and enjoys very girly and feminine things !!

the party was booming.

music thumped through the floors, bodies moved in rhythm, and laughter spilled from every room. lights danced across the walls in a kaleidoscope of red and gold, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you belonged. not because you fit in, but because gojo satoru made it feel like you did.

you were tucked into his side on a battered leather couch, sipping from a red cup that had long since gone flat. his hand rested on your knee, thumb brushing gentle arcs against your skin as he talked with someone from his econ class. you weren’t really listening to the conversation. you were too busy soaking it in, the way his laugh rumbled in his chest, the way he glanced at you every few seconds like you might disappear if he looked away too long.

occasionally he'd lean over and kiss your forehead, a gesture that was becoming pretty common for the two of you, never on the lips, but still just as sweet.

it felt real.

it felt safe.

until the front door slammed open like a gunshot.

you flinched.

the music didn’t stop, not right away. it dimmed only when the shouting started.

“yo,” someone jeered from the entryway, voice loud and slurred. “what the hell? no invite for us?”

you felt gojo go still beside you. his hand left your knee and curled into a fist as he stood, gaze narrowing.

a ripple of silence spread through the crowd as heads turned toward the intrusion.

there, standing under the dim porch light like a devil in designer, was sukuna.

his bleached pink hair was messy in that practiced way, a silver chain clinking around his neck. tattoos snaked up his arms, ink stark against skin, and his smug grin curled like smoke.

flanking him were a half-dozen beta tau guys, all posturing and laughing, like this was their turf too.

“great,” gojo muttered, barely audible over the silence. “this fucker.”

sukuna's eyes scanned over the crowd, smirking as he saw you. you didn't look, you just kept your head low.

“gojo,” came a new voice, toji, black shirt half-unbuttoned, eyes storm-dark as he pushed through the crowd. “you wanna tell me why beta scum is breathing our air?”

“relax, creatine,” sukuna sneered, lifting his chin. “didn’t know we needed permission to show up at some busted up house party.”

toji grinned, all teeth. “funny. you don’t need permission to show up, but you sure as hell need it to stay.”

sukuna took a step forward. “you trying to start something, fushiguro?”

“what if i am fuck face?”

the crowd shifted, some people backing away, others watching with wide eyes like it was a sport. tension coiled like a loaded spring.

suguru appeared beside toji, brows furrowed, calm but ready, putting a hand on toji’s massive arm. “this isn’t your scene, sukuna. you should leave.”

but sukuna only laughed. “you alpha boys always get soft when there’s girls around. is that what this is? a little date night for gojo and my left overs?”

your body tenses at that, shit, he saw you.

toji’s hand clenched at his side. “watch your mouth.”

“oh?” sukuna turned to him, smug and taunting. “don’t tell me you’re playing guard dog for her too. what, she making rounds through all the frats now?”

before anyone could move, toji closed the distance and shoved sukuna back a step.

“say it again.”

sukuna’s smirk turned feral. “you gonna hit me, asshole?”

toji leaned in, voice low and lethal. “i’ve been waiting to. since the day i watched you drag her out of the kappa mixer like a caveman.”

‘oh, so it was you.’ gojo thought, how did toji know that of all people?

that wiped the smile off sukuna’s face.

he straightened, eyes burning.

“she was mine.”

“no,” gojo said suddenly, voice cold and steady as he stepped between them. “she was never yours.”

sukuna turned to him, expression flickering.

and that’s when it happened.

he looked past gojo. past the crowd.

right at you.

it was like all the air got sucked out of the room.

his eyes, red and sharp like broken glass, locked onto yours, and for a second, you weren’t in the alpha phi house anymore. you were back in his car, staring at the dashboard while he screamed at you. back at that beta tau party, clutching your phone while he pulled you through the hallway like you were furniture. back in his room, being thrown around and told to strip. 'just take it and shut the fuck up.'

you froze.

heart in your throat. nails digging into your palms.

you hadn’t seen him in months, but just like that, the fear came flooding back.

like your body remembered before your mind did.

his mouth moved into something that might’ve passed as a smile to someone else. but you knew better. it wasn’t warmth, it was possession.

“hey, y/n… look at me.”

gojo’s hand touched your back. gentle. grounding.

you blinked.

he had moved back to you, eyes soft even as his jaw was tight. “you okay?”

you swallowed hard and nodded.

but your hands were shaking.

gojo turned back toward sukuna, something deadly in his voice now.

“don’t look at her. don’t talk about her. you don’t even think about her.”

sukuna rolled his eyes. “she’s not yours, dick head.”

“she’s not yours either,” gojo snapped. “and she never fucking will be.”

sukuna’s gaze darkened. “so this is the game now, huh? you’re playing boyfriend?"

gojo’s voice dropped an octave. “no. i’m being a decent person. and if you don’t walk out of here right now, i won’t stop toji from knocking your ass into next semester, regulations be damned.”

the tension was a wire about to snap.

sukuna looked around the room, at toji, suguru, the other frat boys who were closing in, all watching him like a lit fuse. he smiled.

sukuna’s eyes flicked from gojo to you.

that smirk didn’t fade, it sharpened.

“cute,” he sneered. “she’s hiding behind you now. bet you think you’re special.”

toji’s laugh was cold as he stepped into sukuna’s line of sight to obscure his vision of you. “nah, but i know you’re still a pathetic little bitch.”

the room snapped like a tensioned wire.

sukuna’s gaze shifted, deadly now, locking onto toji like a predator who’d just spotted something worth hunting.

“funny,” he said, stepping forward. “you still mad i fucked your girl, or should i say ex?”

toji didn’t respond. he just moved.

in a blur, he grabbed sukuna by the collar and slammed him into the wall. the entire party jolted as the drywall cracked.

“watch your mouth.”

“make me.”

the first punch landed with a crunch, toji’s fist slamming into sukuna’s jaw, hard enough to echo. sukuna staggered, then retaliated, kneeing toji in the ribs before throwing a savage right hook. the force sent toji stumbling into the snack table, knocking red cups and bowls everywhere.

and then it was on.

chaos detonated.

a beta tau brother lunged toward toji from the side, but suguru intercepted, grabbing the guy mid-charge and flipping him over the arm of the couch with a loud thud. another tried to tackle suguru from behind, but choso clotheslined him mid-run, beer bottle still in his other hand like a trophy. (🫦🫦🫦)

gojo’s head snapped around, eyes narrowing as the entire alpha phi living room turned into a war zone.

sukuna and toji were trading blows in the center like heavyweight fighters, each punch drawing blood or bruises. toji’s nose was bleeding now, and sukuna’s mouth was split, but neither was backing down. they circled like rabid dogs.

suguru shoved off another attacker, ducking a wild punch from a tattooed beta tau called shiu. “you guys came here to start shit?” he barked. “seriously? didn’t you get wrecked enough last semester?”

“you talk a lot for a guy who got benched half the season,” shiu hissed, lunging.

suguru cracked him across the cheek with a swift elbow, then ducked to avoid a flailing swing. “still scored higher than your gpa.”

in the corner, nanami had joined the dismay, elegant but deadly, blocking two punches like he’d done this before. “please refrain from bleeding on the rug,” he muttered, landing a clean, punishing jab to someone’s gut. “it’s antique.”

somewhere behind you, you heard glass shatter.

choso yelled something about the tv.

someone screamed “yo! get the baseball bat!—”

you flinched, ducking behind a tipped-over armchair. the room was spinning with bodies, noise, fists, and swearing.

you spotted itadori trying to pull guys apart. “dude, chill—CHILL!” he shouted, physically yanking a beta tau and alpha phi apart. “this is so not frat regulation!”

“frat regulation?” todo huffed, bear pawing someone across the chest. “those fuckers threw that out the window the second they stepped foot in here!”

meanwhile, gojo’s eyes stayed locked on sukuna.

he didn’t even flinch as someone swung at him, he ducked effortlessly, then shoved the guy aside, cutting through the disarray like gravity bent around him.

toji was on the defensive now, blood dripping from his temple. sukuna laughed, manic, high off adrenaline. “thought you were tough,” he goaded, grabbing toji by the hair and trying to knee him in the face.

gojo saw red. toji was his brother, and sukuna was playing dirty.

he moved.

sukuna didn’t even see him coming.

gojo grabbed him by the shoulder and ripped him away from toji, slamming him into the nearest wall so hard a picture frame fell.

“you want someone to fight?” gojo said, voice ice. “try me.”

sukuna spat blood. “finally.”

he lunged.

the two of them crashed into the coffee table, splinters and glass flying as gojo ducked the first blow and returned a brutal one to sukuna’s ribs. they rolled across the floor, fists slamming into flesh, grunts and swears flying.

gojo was everywhere, dodging, striking, blocking with clean precision. sukuna was wilder, bloodier, all rage and ego.

gojo’s knuckles were split. his lip was bleeding.

but he didn’t stop.

“dont even think about laying a hand on her you fucker,” he snarled, slamming sukuna’s head against the floorboards.

sukuna wheezed, grinning through the pain. “so that’s what this is? you fighting for your little toy? mad i fucked her first?”

gojo punched him in the gut.

“she’s not a toy,” he growled. “she’s a fucking person. and you treated her like fucking trash.”

sukuna tried to twist out of his grip, but gojo was faster. he pinned him down again, forearm to his throat.

“look at her,” he hissed. “go ahead. look at what you did.”

sukuna’s eyes flicked toward you.

you were crouched behind the chair still, shaking, pale, your eyes wide and glassy. you weren’t the same girl he’d dragged around like an accessory. you were trembling now, but not in the way he remembered. there was fear, yes.

but there was also disgust.

that finally did it.

sukuna’s grin cracked.

gojo leaned in close. “you don’t scare her anymore. you sicken her.”

the beta tau boys were pulling back now, dragging sukuna off gojo, yelling things about lawsuits and retaliation, but none of them had the stomach for a second round. their leader looked worse than he ever had, bloody, bruised, humiliated on the floor of a rival frat house.

and as gojo stood, breath ragged, fists still curled.

everyone saw the shift.

this wasn’t just a frat brawl anymore.

this was a line being drawn in blood.

suguru was the first to break the silence, glaring at sukuna and his lackies.

“come into our frat uninvited again and you’re getting put on a shirt.”

~

the beta tau boys scrambled out like rats, half-carrying sukuna, who kept swearing and spitting blood between gasps. one of them shouted something about calling their president. no one cared.

the front door slammed shut behind them.

silence fell like a dropped curtain.

a beer pong ball rolled slowly across the floor and bumped against someone’s shoe.

toji wiped his nose with the back of his hand, blood smearing across his cheek. he was breathing hard, leaning on the wall, chest heaving. suguru stood next to him, knuckles raw, eyes still hard. nanami had already pulled a tie from somewhere and was cinching it around someone’s arm like a tourniquet. choso was picking glass out of his palm and mumbling about his jacket.

“well,” todo grunted, brushing off his shirt. “that escalated.”

gojo didn’t move at first.

he stood in the center of the room, shoulders tense, hands still curled into fists. his lip was bleeding, and one eye was already starting to bruise. he looked like he was barely holding himself together.

until he saw you.

you were still crouched behind the armchair, arms wrapped around yourself, eyes wet.

gojo’s expression cracked.

he crossed the room in three long strides, dropping to his knees in front of you. “hey,” he said softly, voice rough from screaming at sukuna. “sweet girl, you okay?”

you nodded before you even thought about it, but your eyes were trembling.

“look at me.” his hand cupped your face, gentle even though his fingers were scraped raw. “you’re safe. he’s gone. he’s not gonna come close to you ever again.”

you nodded again. but the tears had already started.

he pulled you into his arms.

you went willingly.

the moment you were against his chest, it all broke loose,sobs wracking through you like a wave crashing into shore. you clutched his shirt, buried your face in his neck, and cried like your body had been holding it in for too long.

he didn’t say anything. he just held you. nothing else mattered anymore. not the bet, not sukuna, not anyone. only you.

arms wrapped around you tight, one hand cradling your head, the other stroking slow circles on your back.

“i’m sorry,” you choked. “i didn’t mean to—”

“don’t,” he said immediately, pulling back just enough to look you in the eye. “don’t apologize. none of this is your fault.”

“but if i hadn’t—”

“no.” he kissed your forehead, the gesture becoming common nower days. “don’t. he’s the problem. not you.”

you didn’t have the words.

but he didn’t need them.

across the room, suguru was already barking cleanup orders to the uninjured alpha boys. toji was still glaring at the door like he might chase sukuna down the block. nanami was helping itadori corral people who hadn’t left yet.

and in the middle of it all, gojo stayed with you.

sure he was the president, supposed to be helping out, but you were more important to him right now.

his voice was quiet now, just for you. “i’ve got you. okay? nothing’s gonna hurt you. not while i’m here.”

you believed him.

for the first time in a long time, maybe ever, you really, truly believed someone would fight for you.

and he had.

bloody knuckles. bruised lip. rage in his voice.

gojo satoru hadn’t just fought for you.

he’d drawn a line.

and he was standing on your side.

~

the house was quieter now.

not silent, too many people still muttering, too many footsteps creaking on stairs, but the chaos had passed. the storm was over.

gojo didn’t say much as he led you upstairs.

his hand held yours the whole time, warm and steady. a grounding anchor. he opened the door to his room with a wince,his shoulder was already stiff from the fight, but he still managed to flash you a small smile.

you were no stranger to his room by now.

he helped you sit down at the edge of the bed.

“stay right there.”

you watched as he disappeared into his closet and came back with a hoodie, one of his favorites, oversized and navy blue, worn soft from too many washes.

“here.” he held it out. “you’re probably cold.”

you took it with a quiet thank you and tugged it over your head. it smelled like him too. familiar and safe.

gojo crouched in front of you again, reaching out gently. “can i?” he asked, nodding toward your face.

you nodded.

his fingertips brushed your cheek, tucking hair behind your ear. “you’re okay,” he murmured, more to himself than you. “you’re okay, you’re okay…”

you caught his hand before he pulled away. “you’re hurt, satoru.”

he blinked, then looked down at his knuckles like he’d forgotten. they were raw and crusted with blood, split open in places. his lip was cracked, too, and a bruise was starting along his cheekbone.

“i’ve had worse,” he said with a shrug. “toji once clocked me so hard i couldn’t chew for three days.”

you didn’t laugh. your fingers tightened around his.

he sobered instantly. “i’m okay. swear. just a little bruised.”

“you didn’t have to do that,” you whispered. “not for me.”

he sat beside you, close enough that your knees touched. “yes, i did.”

“but—”

“he hurt you,” gojo said quietly. “and i saw it. i saw what it did to you. how scared you were.” his jaw clenched. “you’re the strongest person i know, but no one should ever have to be that strong just to survive someone asshole like him.”

your throat tightened.

“i couldn’t stand there and let him scare you again. not after everything.”

he looked down at his lap, hands resting there, flexing absently. “i’ve never wanted to hit someone so bad in my life, and i know the others hate him too, okay? this is not your fault.”

you leaned into him. slowly. carefully. until your head was against his shoulder and his arm curled around you instinctively.

he held you like that, quiet, steady, heart still racing under his ribs.

“thank you,” you said.

“you don’t have to thank me for loving you,” he said, barely above a whisper.

your heart stopped.

had you heard that right?

was he really talking about love?! you weren't even dating!

you looked up.

he didn’t flinch. didn’t backpedal. just looked at you with that same open, raw expression he always gave you when he meant something with his whole chest.

“i know it’s early,” he said, lips quirking into the tiniest smile. “but i don’t really do the whole slow-burn thing. when i feel something, i feel it all the way.”

your breath hitched.

“so yeah,” he continued. “i love you. and if that means punching my way through a room full of assholes to make sure you’re safe, i’ll do it. every time.”

before your eyes could tear up again, you kissed him.

gently.

like you were learning what softness could be again.

he kissed you back, careful and sweet, one hand cupping your cheek like you were something precious.

when you pulled away, he smiled.

“let’s get some ice on that bruise,” you said, brushing a thumb over his cheek.

“yes ma’am,” he grinned. “but only if you stay and watch the lion king with me.”

“deal.”

you curled up in bed together, legs tangled, your head on his chest, a bag of frozen peas balanced on his face, and a disney movie playing low on his laptop.

safe.

finally, finally safe.

~

the aftermath hit like the hangover no one wanted to have.

by monday morning, the entire campus was buzzing with one thing and one thing only, the alpha phi party that turned into a free for all.

it was in whispered conversations in lecture halls. it was in blurry snap stories that got deleted after campus admin flagged them. it was in the instagram group chats, the anonymous confession pages, and even the comments section of a rogue post on the university subreddit titled “gojo v. sukuna: ultimate frat showdown (ft. toji ‘breaks drywall for fun’ fushiguro).”

everyone had an opinion.

and no one really knew the full story.

but that didn’t matter.

what mattered was the image: blood on the floor, gojo stepping over sukuna like a final boss, and the way you, silent, shaken, but still standing, had stared down the monster everyone thought was untouchable.

you heard the rumours, but your mind was only filled with what gojo had said to you that night. how he held you in his arms after telling you he loved you. and god, that was all you needed. nothing else mattered,

until it did.

the next morning, sukuna didn’t show up to class.

but that didn’t mean he wasn’t scheming.

in the darkened interior of the beta tau house, sukuna sat with an ice pack pressed to his jaw, eyes unfocused.

he could still feel gojo’s fist in his ribs. still taste blood in the back of his throat. he hadn’t been humiliated like that since—well, ever. not publicly. not in front of half the greek system and the girls who used to throw themselves at his feet.

now?

now he was the villain in everyone’s story.

and he hated it.

“yo, you good?” asked jogo, dropping onto the couch with a protein shake in hand.

“no,” sukuna snapped. “fuck off.”

“dude, we tried to tell you, alpha phi doesn’t fuck around.”

sukuna ignored him.

he needed leverage. a way to claw back what was his, not the frat clout, not even the fear. you.

you had looked at him like he was nothing.

and that cut deeper than any punch gojo could throw.

he stood, ice pack hitting the floor. he needed air, or maybe just silence. something to stop the buzzing in his brain. he headed toward the back patio, lit a cigarette he didn’t even want, and stepped into the cold.

that’s when he heard it.

voices, just beyond the hedges by the fire pit.

two guys walking past to the gym situated next to the beta tau house.

toji’s voice, low, unmistakable, smug.

“—i still can’t believe you let that shit get out. gojo bet on her dude. 2000 dollars. now he’s head over heels.”

a scoff. choso.

“i don’t think gojo was thinking straight. he wasn’t supposed to fall for her.”

sukuna froze.

toji again. “yeah, well, now he’s acting like she’s the love of his life. not just some stupid bet.”

sukuna stepped closer, just behind the stone column.

choso grunted. “shit was supposed to be a joke. he was supposed to bag the shy girl, throw her a bone, and dip. i didn’t think he was even interested at first.”

“until she got cute.”

“yeah, or until sukuna started sniffing around.”

toji laughed. “classic gojo. can’t let anything belong to someone else. i like y/n tho, she's cool. got that whole girl next door thing going, didn't mind gettin abit bloodied up over her.”

sukuna’s hand curled around the edge of the wall.

there it was.

the angle.

the weapon.

he didn’t need fists. he didn’t need revenge porn or threats or violence.

he needed truth.

or what sounded close enough to it.

~

by mid-week, the whispers about the fight had started mutating.

what started as 'gojo beat sukuna’s ass for being a creep' turned into 'gojo’s just territorial' and then warped into 'gojo and sukuna fought over some bet girl.'

sukuna was playing his cards well, whispering things to all the sorority chicks that still hung around him. he knew how they liked to gossip.

'gojo bet on some girl?'

you weren’t even the first to hear it, from yuki. she had sent you a post from a confession page of your university.

'i heard that gojo was only with that girl at the party because he bet $100 on her. that’s rough!'

another one stated.

'i knew gojo didn’t actually turn soft for some quiet wall flower. i mean come on, he’s a slut, that was never a thing.'

you swallowed as you read some more.

'yep, 100% a bet. and he’s winning so far, she seems like a clueless fucking idiot, still walking around with him like some lost puppy.'

you felt suffocated, your world was slowly darkening as your eyes went dull. of course this wasn’t real, he wasn't real. of course.

you shut off your phone, ignoring the sweet messages gojo was sending you. maybe that’s why he hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend yet, he was never planning on longevity. he told you he loved you to keep you on your toes, and god damnit it worked.

you weren’t going to be strung along any longer. you promised yourself you were going to stop hoping for a change in men, especially ones like satoru. the heart break you were feeling wasn’t anything like when you were sukuna. it was more crushing, more defeating. like you were really just some stupid idiot who got played by the notorious satoru gojo.

one thing you knew for sure, you were done with satoru gojo.

~

the rumors were like weeds.

and gojo could feel them curling around his ankles.

every hallway he walked down came with a wave of hushed tones. every class, every lunch line, every stop at the rec center. he could see it in the way people glanced at him, more curious than impressed now.

he didn’t care about his reputation. he cared about yours.

and when he caught two girls in the library whispering your name followed by the words 'pity project', he saw red.

he slammed the book in his hands shut, making them jump.

“is there something you want to say to my face?” he asked, calm but dangerous.

they didn’t. of course they didn’t.

but the damage was done.

he needed to find suguru.

~

suguru was in the alpha phi common room, looking worse for wear, one knuckle taped, a gash on his jaw.

he looked up when gojo stormed in.

“yo.”

gojo didn’t respond right away. he just threw a screenshot down on the coffee table.

it was from an anonymous confessions page.

'the only reason gojo’s simping over her is cause of some bet. sucks she thought it was legit. pretty brutal.'

suguru stared.

then sighed. “fuck.”

“yeah,” gojo snapped. “fuck.”

“i didn’t say anything. i swear. neither did nanami or choso. i—I don’t even think toji would’ve. not to sukuna.”

gojo’s jaw ticked. “someone did.”

suguru was silent.

“do you know how this looks?” gojo hissed. “she was scared, suguru. she saw that bastard’s face and shut down. and now she’s the one being dragged for it?”

“i know.”

“she’s not even talking to me.”

suguru blinked. “what?”

gojo dropped onto the couch, ran a hand through his hair. “she won’t answer. i’ve been texting her since sunday. she's left me on read.”

“shit.”

gojo stared at the floor.

“i never really thought about that bet,” he muttered. “i never even thought about her like that at first. i didn’t even want to be part of that stupid shit.”

“i know you didn’t.”

“i thought if i just stayed quiet, it wouldn’t touch her. but i was already in too deep.”

suguru nodded slowly. “and now sukuna’s using it.”

“yeah.”

silence.

then suguru stood. “we’ll fix it.”

gojo looked up.

“you’re not the same guy you were when you shook on it. she knows that. she’s just… scared. and not just of him. she’s scared of being played again. of being humiliated.”

“i would never—”

“i know. but she doesn’t. not completely. not yet.”

gojo swallowed. “so what do i do?”

“tell her everything. the whole story. before that bastard sukuna does.”

~

sukuna didn’t go for a direct attack.

no.

he started planting seeds.

a stray comment at a mixer: “gojo really did that, huh?”

a post on his burner account: “it’s crazy how guys can fake a personality just long enough to win a bet.”

and then the cherry on top: a note slipped under your dorm door.

no name. no return address.

just a single sentence:

ask him if you’re worth $2000.

you read it twenty times, hands trembling.

you didn’t know what it meant in this context, but you knew who “him” was.

and suddenly, the rumours, the whispers, the edge in toji’s voice the night of the party, it all clicked into place.

you’d been a bet.

a checklist item.

you had guessed as much, but this note seemed to really put things into perspective…

you had never felt so humiliated, so torn.

~

about two weeks had passed.

the weight of it hit him hardest in the quiet moments, when his phone buzzed and it wasn’t you. when he passed your building and saw your window dark when he'd go on walks at night around campus, when his own reflection in the mirror stared back hollow-eyed and bruised, with no one to hold his jaw and tell him to sit still while they pressed frozen peas to his face.

gojo had never been afraid of much. not pain, not humiliation, not even losing. but the thought of losing you? of you thinking even for a second that he’d played you, used you, humiliated you? that fucking petrified him.

he sat at the edge of his bed now, elbows on his knees, fingers laced and red from stress. the party lights, the noise, the crowd’s laughter, they were all static now. all he could think about was how soft your voice had sounded when you said he didn’t have to fight for you. and how wrong you were.

he had to fight. because he’d failed you once already, the moment he’d let a stupid, careless bet ruin the bond you two shared.

the more he learned about you, the less he could stomach the bet. you made him want to be better. softer. real. you didn’t give a shit about clout, didn’t care about who he was to everyone else, you looked at him like he was just a guy. and for the first time in his life, that was all he wanted to be.

just your guy.

but now you were gone. and he didn’t blame you, how could he?

what he’d said the night of the fight wasn’t a performance. it wasn’t just adrenaline. he meant every word. he loved you. loved the way you spoke when you finally let your voice rise. loved the way you always folded your hands in your lap when you were nervous. loved how fiercely you loved, even when you were afraid to.

now he had to prove it.

~

step one: own it. no dodging. no half-truths. if he wanted to make things right, he had to be honest, about the bet, about how it started, about when it stopped being a bet.

he started with a letter.

not a text, not a dm. handwritten. honest. the kind of vulnerability he used to flinch from.

he didn’t overthink it. he just wrote.

' hey,

i don’t even know how to start this. i’ve written and rewritten this stupid thing a dozen times... every version sounded either too rehearsed or too pathetic. but i guess when you screw up as bad as i did, there’s no pretty way to say it.

you deserve the truth. the real one. not the half-story people are whispering about. not the twisted version sukuna is spreading. and definitely not the one where you end up painted as a joke.

so here it is.

when i first asked for your number, that wasn't the first time i had seen you. it was actually a few days before and you were sitting alone under an oak tree at the cafe we had our first hang out at. you looked so fucking breathtaking y/n. never in my damn life had i looked at someone and felt that captured by them. you just existed in your own quiet world, and somehow that made me want to crash into it.

but i didn’t. not right away.

because i didn’t know how to approach someone like you. someone real. someone who looked as fragile and beautiful as you. so i just ignored it, ignored you. it was easier than being the guy who gets too attached, who feels too much. the guy who ends up caring more than he should. and god, i thought about you all day, and my friends were starting to notice.

then came the bet.

it was stupid. it started as a joke between suguru and choso. something like, “gojo is thinking too heavy about this girl he hasn't even made a move on yet, how comical.” i laughed it off. i always do with them. but then it became a thing. they threw money down, $500. said i couldn’t get you to sleep with me.

and i should’ve shut it down. right then. i should’ve said no, sweetheart. i should of said no.

but i didn’t.

i quadrupled it. because i felt my whole take a hit. it's so fuckijg stupid, i know. i said 2 grand says i can sleep with her by the end of may, and me and suguru shook on it.

i did it because part of me was curious. not about winning, about you. the bet was just a personal excuse to get myself to actually work up the nerve to speak to you.

so yeah. that’s the ugly truth.

it started with a bet.

but that’s not where it stayed.

because from the moment i actually talked to you, really talked to you, i felt like an idiot. you weren’t some game or conquest. you were funny in this adorable, shy way that made me want to cradle you and keep you in my arms forever. you said what you meant, in the most sincere and honestly cute way. you made me want to be quiet just to hear what you’d say next.

and somewhere in there, i forgot about the bet.

it wasn’t important anymore. it wasn’t even a thing in my head. not when you smiled at me for the first time. not when you let me walk you home. not when you touched my hand like it meant something, when we spent all this nights curled up on my bed watching movies together.

i never told you about it because i was ashamed. because i didn’t want that to be the lens you saw me through. and maybe that was selfish. maybe i should’ve come clean earlier. but i kept thinking 'i’ll tell her tomorrow. i’ll tell her when she knows me better. when she knows i’d rather bleed on a frat house floor than see her scared again.'

but then, somehow sukuna found out.

and i knew it was only a matter of time before it all came crashing down.

he got his ego stomped on when the fight broke out and he weaponised what he heard to the max. spreading the rumour like wild fire.

that note he left you? yeah, i knew the second you got it. yuki called me and screamed at me for hurting you so bad. you didn’t answer my texts for two days after, and i felt like i couldn’t breathe. i know that sounds dramatic. but you don’t understand, you were my air. the first thing i thought about when i woke up, the last before i crashed at night. every time you touched me, i wanted to ask if i was dreaming.

and now? i’ve lost the right to even text you without a response.

so here it is. all of it.

i didn’t kiss you because of a bet. i kissed you because i was falling. hard. i told you i loved you that night because i meant it. i would’ve said it again the next morning. and the one after that.

i didn’t ask you to be mine yet because i was scared. i know, me, satoru gojo, scared. but i was. you made me want things i never thought i could have. a quiet morning. a bond full of love and trust instead of a fling full of lust. a life that didn’t revolve around proving anything to anyone.

and i thought maybe i had time. time to earn your trust. to show you i wasn’t just another frat guy who got lucky with a pretty girl.

but i don’t have time anymore, do i?

because now you think i lied to you. played you. used you like some kind of trophy.

and maybe i deserve that, because it's true, and i know how fucked uo what i did was.

maybe i’ll never be able to wipe that stain from us.

but i needed you to know it was real. you are real. every second i spent with you, every laugh, every night we talked until your eyes drifted closed against my chest, that was mine. that was ours.

i love you.

not because you’re the kind of girl a guy wins bets over, but because you’re the kind of girl a guy loses them for.

and i would lose that bet a hundred times over if it meant i got to hold you once more.

if you never want to see me again, i get it. i do.

but if there’s any part of you that still believes in me,still believes in us, then come to me.

even if you don’t show, i’ll sit and wait. for as long as it takes.

—satoru '

~

he folded it carefully, wrote your name on the outside, and dropped it at your dorm with the gentlest knock he could manage.

he went to yuki. he apologised for the way this all dragged you through the mud. asked her, quietly, if she’d let you know his letter was waiting. not to pressure you, just so you knew.

then he called in a favor from shoko, who ran the school’s unofficial gossip-stopper group chat. a screenshot from her burner account landed on every platform within hours.

'bet or not, gojo’s been yearning for this girl for weeks, defending her name even after everything came out. maybe ask why sukuna’s the one pushing the narrative so much? is he jealous? vengeful after his beat down the other night?.'

it didn’t make the problem go away, but it made people pause from the constant gossip.

gojo knew it wouldn’t be a single moment of redemption. no one cheers for a frat boy with a redemption arc. and that was fine. this wasn’t about them.

he still brought you a cup of your favorite coffee the next morning. left it outside your door with a napkin under it.

he wrote: 'still here. still yours. —s.g.'

he still paused outside your classes, just to make sure you were getting in okay.

he still left you space.

because he knew this was going to be on your terms now.

he had made damn sure of that.

and if you never opened the letter, never texted back, never looked at him again, then he’d carry that.

because the only thing worse than losing you was knowing he’d made you feel small. made you feel like a bet when you were the best thing that had ever happened to him.

but if you did open that letter… if there was even a chance you’d let him say it all to your face, he’d be waiting. always.

because loving you wasn’t a game, it was the end of one.

and the start of everything else.

~

you read the letter once.

then twice.

by the third time, your tears were soaking into the ink.

your chest hurt, tight and aching, like it might collapse in on itself. because this—this—felt more honest than anything you’d ever been given before. raw and bleeding. scared and unfiltered.

the silence in your dorm room was thick.

you reached for your phone with a trembling hand.

it had lit up earlier with his name, his sweet messages, each one ignored in your panic and heartbreak. you hadn’t even read the last few.

now, you scrolled through them with a new lens.

gojo: hey. i miss you.

gojo: please just let me explain.

gojo: i didn’t mean to hurt you. i swear.

gojo: you’re not some bet. you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

your heart cracked.

you grabbed the note again, fingers brushing the last line: even if you don’t show, i’ll sit and wait.

it was nearly 9:30pm, you didn’t even think, you just moved.

sweatpants. hoodie. the jacket he once draped over your shoulders without asking.

you left your dorm and ran, not because you forgave him. not yet. but because something deep inside you, some aching, lonely, tender part, wanted to believe that love could still be real, even after it started wrong. and maybe, just maybe, gojo satoru was brave enough to prove it.

~

you didn’t knock.

you couldn’t.

your hands were trembling too hard. your thoughts were a storm, your pulse a drumbeat in your throat. you stood outside the alpha phi frat for longer than you cared to admit, the cold biting at your fingers, that letter clenched tight in your hand like it might vanish if you let go.

you didn’t know what you were expecting.

fireworks? rain? a crowd?

maybe you thought he wouldn’t be here.

but when you opened the door (it was always unlocked), quiet, slow, he was right there.

sitting on the steps inside the house, elbows resting on his knees, head bowed like he’d been carved from stillness.

like he’d been waiting.

you didn’t say anything at first.

just stood in the entryway, frozen, every breath in your lungs trying to claw its way out.

he looked up.

his eyes met yours.

and your whole world stopped.

his lips parted, like he wasn’t sure you were real.

like he’d imagined this moment too many times, and now that it was happening, he was scared to believe it.

“hey, y/n,” he said, voice low, soft.

barely a whisper. barely air.

your throat closed up.

you should’ve had something prepared. something biting, something powerful, something that would make him feel everything you’d felt, betrayal, grief, confusion. but all of it collapsed in on itself the second he looked at you like that. like you were everything.

you swallowed.

“satoru... can we? talk?” you whispered.

his eyes burned.

“anytime,” he said. “always.”

he stood, slow, like he didn’t want to spook you. like one wrong move might send you running again. he gave you space. didn’t step too close. didn’t reach for you, even though you could see the tremor in his hands, he wanted to.

he just didn’t think he was allowed.

you looked around. the common room was empty, the TV still glowing with some paused menu screen. papers were scattered on the table. a water bottle. someone’s hoodie.

so normal. so stupidly normal.

your gaze snapped back to him.

his face looked worse up close. the bruise on his cheek was fading yellow now, and there was a scratch just beneath his jaw that looked like it hadn’t healed right.

he didn’t say anything. just watched you, waiting.

you lifted the letter. “i read it.”

he nodded once, slow. “okay.”

you searched for words.

but your chest was full of thunder and broken glass, and everything that wanted to come out was a sob or a scream.

“was it true?” you asked, finally.

his eyes didn’t leave yours. “every word.”

you clutched the paper tighter.

“you bet on me,” you said. “you made me into some stupid game.”

his breath caught.

“i didn’t know you then,” he said. “i didn’t—i didn’t even want to be part of that shit. i just—i was trying to keep things easy. and then you walked into my life and everything stopped being easy.”

you blinked hard, trying to hold back the tears building behind your eyes. “so you just… forgot to tell me?”

he flinched like you’d slapped him.

“i was scared,” he admitted, voice breaking. “i didn’t want to lose you. i thought if i never brought it up, if i just showed you how much i cared, then maybe it wouldn’t matter.”

“but it does matter,” you said, finally letting your voice crack. “it matters so much, satoru. i trusted you. you were one of the only people i could actually talk to without getting choked up and nervous..."

he nodded. once. hard.

“i know.”

“i let you in. i—I believed you when you said you loved me.”

“i meant it,” he said, desperate. “i still mean it. i love you. i didn’t even know it was love until it was too late and i was already in too deep and—”

you stepped forward. “you don’t get to say that just to fix it.”

he stopped.

you were close enough to touch now. your fingers ached to reach for him, but your heart couldn’t move.

not yet.

“you don’t get to write me a beautiful letter and stand here and wait and think that’s enough.”

he swallowed, throat bobbing.

“it’s not enough,” he said. “i know that.”

you looked at him, really looked at him.

the boy with the cocky grin and stupidly beautiful eyes. the boy who wore his heart like armor until he ripped it open for you. the boy who bled for you. fought for you. lied to protect a truth he didn’t know how to tell.

“i thought you were different,” you whispered.

“i am,” he said. “because of you.”

you shook your head, blinking back tears. “you hurt me.”

he stepped forward this time. just one pace. close, but not too close.

“then let me fix it.”

your bottom lip trembled.

he reached out, slow, trembling, and took your hand, folding it gently into his.

“please,” he said. “i know i don’t deserve a second chance. i know i fucked this up. but if there’s even one part of you that still believes in what we had—”

“have,” you said quietly. “not had.”

his breath caught.

your voice was shaking. “i don’t want to stop feeling this. i don’t want to pretend you don’t mean something to me. i just, I need to know it’s real. that i wasn’t some project. some stupid fucking conquest for your frat friends to laugh at.”

he stepped in.

this time you let him.

his hands cupped your face so gently it almost undid you his soft fingers cascading over your delicate cheeks.

“you are everything to me,” he whispered, forehead leaning into yours. “this isn’t a game. it never was. not after i met you, sweetheart.”

your breath hitched.

“you made me want to be better,” he said. “and i know that’s such a tired fucking line, but it’s true. you... you saw something in me no one else ever tried to. and i want to spend the rest of my life earning that.”

you closed your eyes.

and the tears slipped out anyway.

he kissed them away, feather-light, mouth trembling against your cheek.

“i’m sorry,” he breathed. “for the bet. for the silence. for letting someone like sukuna get in your head. i should’ve protected you better. told you sooner. i should’ve told the world you were mine and never let them question it.”

“i’m not yours,” you whispered.

he froze.

but you lifted your hand and pressed it to his chest.

“not yet,” you said. “but i want to be.”

his breath left him like he’d been shot.

and then he kissed you.

not with hunger, not with fire—but with devotion.

soft and slow, like a promise being made with lips instead of words.

you kissed him back, fingers curling into his hoodie, anchoring yourself in the only thing that felt steady.

him.

when you broke apart, he pressed his forehead to yours again, both of you breathing like you’d just run a marathon through hell.

“so,” you said, voice wobbling, “this is the part where you ask me to be your girlfriend y'know..."

he laughed, breathless, eyes wet. “fuck, no. i’m way past that.”

your brows rose as you looked up at him through your pretty lashes.

“i’m asking you to let me start over,” he said. “properly. no bets. no lies. just… me. loving you. no matter how long it takes for you to trust me again.”

you stared at him for a long moment.

then: “okay.”

his breath caught.

“okay?”

“yeah,” you said, smiling, watery but real. “okay. one slow start.”

he laughed again, and it broke open something beautiful in your chest.

and when he hugged you, arms around your waist, your face buried in his neck, you held on like maybe, just maybe, this time love was something worth holding onto.

~

later that night, you sat curled into him on his bed, still in your hoodie and sweats, with a bag of chips between you and the Lion King playing very quietly in the back.

he had one arm around you, the other lazily twirling your hair.

“i was going to show up outside your dorm like a rom-com loser,” he mumbled.

“you kinda are a rom-com loser,” you teased, leaning into him.

he grinned, that stupid, perfect, heart-cracking grin. “yeah, but i’m your rom-com loser now.”

you rolled your eyes, but didn’t deny it.

because yeah.

he was.

your eyes softened as you curbed into his touch.

"i missed you, toru."

he let out a soft laugh. "toru, huh? only suguru calls me that. it's cute coming from your pretty little mouth."

you giggled and kissed his cheek.

'god, this is bliss.' he thought.

he finnaly had you. all to himself. no stupid bet hanging over his head, no sukuna swimming around in the shadows waiting to pounce, and no expectations.

just you, and him.

~

you don’t know when the laughter fades.

you’re still curled into him, your head resting on his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek. the ice cream’s melted, the movie’s long since ended, but neither of you moved, not really. just soft touches, occasional whispers 'i love you', the silence warm instead of heavy.

his fingers trace lazy shapes against your back.

your hand plays with the hem of his shirt.

and somewhere between a breath and a heartbeat, everything shifts.

his touch lingers a second longer. your fingers slip beneath the fabric, barely there, but enough to make his breath catch.

he tilts his head, just enough to look down at you.

you meet his gaze.

and the air between you thickens.

your lips part, but you don’t say anything. don’t need to. not when his eyes are already dropping to your mouth, like he’s waiting for permission.

you give it without a word.

his kiss this time is different.

not soft. not slow.

hungry.

like the dam finally cracked and all the restraint he’s been holding back with both hands floods loose.

your hands slip up his shirt, palms skating over warm skin and muscle, and he groans against your mouth, low and wrecked, like he’s been dreaming of this.

he pulls back, just enough to search your face.

“are you sure?”

your heart stutters.

you nod. “i want you, toru.”

his expression twists, like that means more to him than it should.

“you have me,” he says, voice rough, reverent. “every part.”

he kisses you again, and this time he lays you back, gentle but firm, like he’s terrified you’ll vanish if he isn’t careful.

and when his mouth trails down your neck, hands slipping beneath the hem of your hoodie, he looks up one last time,

waiting.

you nod again.

this time, he doesn’t stop.

his nips became focused, pulling adorably pornographic moans from your sweet mouth, groaning himself at the sounds.

he made his way down your neck and whispered the softest, sweetest words you'd ever heard during intimate moments like these.

'god, y/n you're perfect sweet heart...' 'you look so pretty baby girl.' 'so sweet for me'

he gently lifted up your hoodie, removing your clothes like he was worshipping a goddess. he feathered his fingers over your skin, taking in your half naked body with hungry yet appreciating eyes. you stared at him as if you were waiting for him to hurry up and tear your underwear and bra off, but he didn't. he traced his fingers up and down your sides.

"are you comfortable taking these off baby? we can leave them on if it makes you feel better."

your eyes almost welled over with tears. almost.

because it wasn’t the question itself, it was the way he asked it. like it mattered. like you mattered. like your comfort was just as important as his desire.

you nodded slowly, shyly, a little embarrassed by how much that question meant to you.

“yeah,” you whispered, barely audible. “i want you to see all of me.”

his eyes searched yours for a beat longer, just to be sure. then he leaned down and kissed your temple so gently it made your chest ache.

“thank you,” he murmured, brushing your hair back. “for trusting me.”

you couldn’t look at him when you slid your underwear off. not at first. heat burned at the tips of your ears, your throat going tight as you lay back against the pillows, arms twitching with the instinct to cover yourself.

but then you felt his hand slip into yours.

“hey,” he said softly, coaxing your gaze back to his. “you don’t have to hide. you’re… god, you’re beautiful.”

you swallowed hard. the raw way he looked at you made you feel fragile, but not in a bad way. in a held way. like he wasn’t going to break you. like he’d never even try.

“it’s okay,” he added, brushing the backs of his fingers along your cheek. “i know it’s different. i know he—” his jaw twitched, but he caught himself. “you don’t have to be scared of being touched anymore. not like that.

you blinked up at him, breathing shaky.

“it wasn’t always rough with him,” you whispered before you could stop yourself. “at first, he made me feel wanted. and then… he started pulling away. touching me when i didn’t want it. saying it was my fault if i wasn’t in the mood.”

gojo’s expression darkened, but he didn’t interrupt.

“he said i was cold,” you added, eyes fluttering shut. “and selfish. that if i really cared, i’d let him—” your voice cracked. “so i started pretending to want it. just to make him happy.”

you waited for disgust. for pity. for him to recoil.

but all you got was a fierce, aching tenderness.

he kissed the center of your chest, right over your heartbeat, and stayed there for a long moment.

“you never deserved that,” he said finally, voice thick with emotion. “none of it. you weren’t selfish, you were scared. and he used that. twisted it.”

his hands cupped your sides, warm and steady.

“i’m not him, y/n. and this isn’t about proving anything. it’s just us. just this moment. and if you ever want to stop—if you even flinch—i’ll hold you and we’ll watch cartoons instead. deal?”

you laughed, choked and watery, but a real laugh all the same.

“deal,” you whispered, threading your fingers through his messy white hair.

he kissed you again, slow and sweet and grounding.

and as his lips moved back down your body, there was no rush. no pressure. just love, in every brush of his fingertips, in every kiss he pressed to your bare skin, in every gentle whisper that reminded you this time was different.

because this time, you were safe.

this time, you were wanted, not as an obligation, or a trophy, or a conquest.

but as you.

and god, gojo satoru was going to make sure you never forgot it.

he too took off his clothes, peeling back his shirt along with his sweat pants. your eyes blew out at just how gorgeous he was. he was smooth, pale, clean. like his body was sculpted up in the heavens by an old greek-man. he was a stark difference to sukuna. he was leaner, prettier. no tattoos to hide a fragile ego behind, no flashy clothing. just him, and the delicate silver chain he always wore that seemed to perfectly reflect his persona.

you found yourself running your hand over his chest. he smiled and cupped your cheek. with the both of you now naked, satoru had you pulled right against his body as he kissed every naked inch. he made his way down to your adorably perky nipple, taking one into his mouth, and rolling it on his tounge, earning a long drawn out whine from you. he could feel his cock ache with each little moan, every little twitch of your body.

he trained his tongue down your torso slowly until he was down by your heat. he looked up at you, smiling softly as he slowly prayed your legs open, holding your lower calf and kissing the inside of your ankle.

'you're perfect.'

you were starting to get embarrassed at how sensual he was being, but god did it feel good. you couldn't help the groan that escaped your mouth when he started massaging the plush skin of your bare thigh, his eyes locked on your dripping pussy.

"awhh baby, you're so wet for me. didn't know something as cute as you could get so messy." he teased, moving his hands higher and higher up your thighs until his long finger tips were brushing over the skin of your labia. his fingers were like electricity. he hadn't even gotten to the sweet part yet but you could feel a tight coil tightening in your stomach. he was going tantalisingly slow, licking his lips as he ran his fingers over everywhere but your clit.

you looked up at him with shy eyes, like you wanted, needed to ask him to keep going.

he just smirked, looking down at you with eyes full of a bubbly kind of lust, he was high on the moment.

"what is it baby girl? you need me to do something?"

you covered your mouth out of habit, nodding shyly as you fought the urge to just grab his hand and place the pads of his fingers over your clit yourself.

''oh yeah? what is it sweetheart? you seem a bit hot and bothered. want me to touch... here?" as soon as the words left his mouth his middle finger pressed down hard on your clit, finally letting you release the choked up moan you were holding in. he smirked even wider as he started rolling the sensitive bud under his finger. "you look so fucking cute... squirming around just from a little pressure? wonder what you'll do when i actually slam my cock into this pretty little hole..."

you almost choked at how vulgar he suddenly got, nothing like the soft satoru you were used to but god, it was hot. all sense of slowness disappeared after that moment, and satoru, without warning, slammed two of his long thick fingered up into your tight little hole.

"f-fuck! t-toru oh my-"

you couldn't finnish, strangled moans was all that came out of your mouth as he pumped his fingers in and out with precision and skill. "gonna make you feel so good honey. so fucking good."

he curled his fingers, hitting that spongy spot deep inside your cunt making you gasp and grab at his navy bed sheets. he moved his head down and begun to suck on your clit with his long tongue rolling it backwards and forth. you were shaking from the pleasure, right coils about to burst inside your stomach were becoming harder to ignore as you moaned louder and louder, the shy girl everyone knew was long gone as your silky voice became wracked with pretty moans. satoru lied into your pussy as he felt you start to get closer and closer, he missed your clit and picked up the pace with his fingers, making you groan and cry out. 'toru- you're hah amazing... holy shit you're so- fuck- good!"

his eyes rolled back at the sound of your voice, slamming his fingers deeper inside, finger fucking you so good. "s-shit toru! i'm gonna- i'm gonna!"

he didn't let you finnish, he sucked harder on your clit and fucked his fingers impossibly deeper, finally, you came undone all over his chin.

he looked very pleased, still staring at your cunt with heart eyes.

he was quick to lap up every drop, sucking your entrance with a satisfied groan.

"shit- y/n... your pussy is so perfect baby. you're so fucking perfect. need to fuck you honey- so bad."

as you caught your breath, body slightly shaking beneath him, you watched as he sat up, pulling off his boxers to reveal the most perfect cock you had ever seen... it was long, with a red angry tip already covered in translucent pre. he smiled as he watched you stare with wide eyes.

"think you can handle it sweet thing? if it's too much we can always-"

"no! no. i want you toru. i want you so bad, please fuck me."

the look of disbelief on satoru's face was priceless. never in a million years did he expect such a blunt statement from the shy girl he grew to knew, but holy fuck, was his cock 10x harder now.

"as you wish, precious."

he took his position back inbetween your legs, hovering over you. he placed one hand beside your head, the other on his aching cock.

"i'll go slow baby. just relax for me sweet girl, i'll make you feel so good."

he was honest, he slipped the tip in slowly, you let out small moans as it stretches you out, he kissed your temple as he whispered reassurance in your ear.

'you can take it baby.' 'you can do it y/n'

he slid the rest of his length in, bottoming out with a deep groan.

"so fucking tight."

you could only manage hiss through clenched teeth, you felt so deliciously full. he looked into your eyes for permission to move, and the look of pure lust he got in return was all he needed before he started to slowing thrust on and out of your perfectly tight heat.

your hands gripped the sheets beneath you as he pushed his hips down further and further into you, pinning you down in a mating press. you could form no words as he picked up his pace, the only noise coming from your mouth was strings of moans, 'nnnghh- toru!' 'f-fuck- so good- i-'

he held your hips as he pounded deeper and deeper, holding you still as he abused your g-spot. your velvety walls clenched around his long cock, making him grunt with each thrust. "holy fucking shit y/n hah, so good for me, so fucking good for me baby. holy fuckkk you're so goddamn tight- hah!."

he slammed into you at a feverish pace, you could feel your world dizzying as his movements fucked into you in all the right places. he was so dominant, yet so gentle. his pace was controlled, his hands didn't grip you crushingly, and he peppered small kisses over your forehead as he thrusted in and out. it was perfect.

"baby- fuck- you're so pretty like this honey. so cute looking so fucked out for me- hah-"

you bit your lip as you tried to respond, but your climax was coming too quick, you couldn't even think. a hand flew to his shoulder as you squeezed tightly. satoru could feel your walls closing in harder on his cock, and he smiled knowing you were close. he rutted his hips deeper, faster, chasing your high like it was the only thing that mattered, because to him? it did. your pleasure was the only thing concerning him.

he looked into your eyes and saw them dilate, you were right on the edge.

"cmon baby. you can do it sweetheart- cum for me- cum for toru baby. you can do it-"

his words sent a shiver down your spine as you let out a loud and very sexy moan, your high crashing over you like a tidal wave. satorus came not long after, he pulled out quickly and stroked his length, coming undone onto your lower belly.

you were too fucked out to notice, you had just revived the best dicking down of your damn life.

before he had a chance to calm down, satoru was already grabbing for wet wipe beside his bed to clean you up. he wiped the cum off of your body and kissed your forehead softly.

"sorry for not cumming in a tissue baby, i just-"

"shh toru. it's fine, it's fine, i'm on birth control you could of just finished inside."

you smiled up at him as his sorrowful expression faded. he chukled and kissed your cheek. "i'll keep that in mind sweetheart."

he rushed off to grab a hot cloth and came back, tenderly washing off your body as he whispered sweet words into your ear.

'you were so perfect baby.' 'that was so perfect.'

~

your head was tucked under his chin, your body still humming from the moment you’d just shared. the room was dim, washed in gold from the lamp on his desk. the covers were tangled around your legs, your skin still warm where his hands had touched you like you were something breakable. something precious.

you were quiet, heart pounding against his ribs like it was trying to break free, like it didn’t quite believe it was safe yet.

gojo’s fingers traced idle patterns along your back, slow and feather-light, like he didn’t want to disturb the silence but still needed to be connected to you somehow. his other hand was curled around yours where it rested between your chests, your fingers interlocked like the spaces between them had been made just for this.

“you okay?” he asked softly, breath warm against your hair.

you nodded.

then, after a moment, you whispered, “i didn’t know it could be like that.”

his hand paused, then resumed its path over your skin. “like what?”

“gentle.”

your voice was so small, so fragile, he almost missed it.

gojo’s chest rose and fell in a slow, steady breath. “was it too much?”

“no,” you said quickly. “no, it was… it was perfect.”

you pressed your face into his chest, ashamed of the tears building in your eyes. you weren’t supposed to be crying right now, not after something like that. but you couldn’t help it. your body was still trying to reconcile softness with safety. intimacy with kindness.

his arms tightened around you instantly.

“talk to me,” he murmured.

you hesitated. “with sukuna… it was never like this.”

gojo didn’t speak, just waited, patient and still.

“it was always rough. like he didn’t care if it hurt. like he wanted it to.” you swallowed hard. “he used to tell me i was lucky he even wanted me. like i should be grateful.”

gojo’s jaw clenched under your cheek, but his touch never changed. he didn’t pull away. didn’t interrupt.

“he didn’t see me,” you whispered. “not really. not like you do.”

gojo kissed the top of your head, long and slow. “i see you,” he said quietly. “i see everything. and i want all of it.”

your throat tightened.

“you’re not something to be tolerated, or controlled, or used,” he said. “you’re not here to make someone feel bigger by making yourself smaller. not anymore. not with me.”

you clutched his hand a little tighter.

“you don’t have to thank me for being kind to you,” he added after a moment. “that should’ve been your bare minimum. and i hate that it wasn’t.”

his voice cracked at the edges, like he was holding something in.

you looked up slowly.

his eyes were red-rimmed, glassy with unshed tears. “i hate that he made you feel like you were hard to love.”

your chest broke open.

“you’re not,” he said. “you’re easy to love. so easy, i don’t even know when it happened. it just… did.”

your lip trembled. “i was so scared to want this. to want you.”

“i know,” he said softly. “but you’re safe now. i promise.”

he kissed your forehead, then your cheek, then the tip of your nose—each one slower than the last, like he was memorizing you piece by piece.

“you can be quiet,” he murmured. “you can be shy. you can be soft, and unsure, and afraid. i’ll still be here.”

you let the tears fall then. not because you were broken, but because you were healing. and healing always hurt a little.

he wiped them away with the pads of his thumbs, then pulled you even closer, if that was possible.

“do you want to talk about him?” gojo asked gently. “or anything else?”

you were quiet for a long time. then, your voice barely audible:

“there was this one night… i said i was too tired. it was finals week and i hadn’t slept in two days. i could barely keep my eyes open, and he just... he laughed. said, ‘too tired? who the hell do you think you are?’ and then he grabbed my arm.”

gojo didn’t speak, didn’t even breathe too loud.

“he didn’t hit me,” you said quickly. “not that night. but he left bruises on my wrist from how tight he held me. and after… he made me apologize. said i was being dramatic. that i needed to learn my place.”

a sound tore from gojo’s throat then, low and wrecked.

your breath hitched, embarrassed suddenly, but he leaned in, touched his forehead to yours.

“you never had to earn love,” he said fiercely. “and you never deserved that. not ever.”

you looked at him, eyes shimmering.

“you’re not dramatic. you’re not wrong for needing rest. or comfort. or boundaries.” he touched your hand where it rested on his chest. “you don’t ever have to explain why something hurt. if it hurt, that’s enough. that’s valid.”

your lips parted, stunned by how simple he made it sound. how obvious.

“i’m so sorry you went through that,” he whispered. “but you’re not alone anymore.”

you nodded, voice thick. “i know.”

“you can tell me every memory, every scar. i’ll hold them all.”

you curled in tighter to him, face pressed to the curve of his neck. “i think that was the worst part. not the bruises, not the yelling. it was how small he made me feel. like i was disposable.”

gojo’s voice was hoarse. “you’re the most irreplaceable thing in my life.”

you blinked up at him, heart cracking wide open.

“i love you,” he whispered. “so much it hurts.”

your breath caught.

“but i’ll wait until you’re ready to say it back. no pressure. no expectations.”

you squeezed his hand.

and for the first time in a long time, you believed it, fully, wholly, in your bones.

you were safe.

you were seen.

you were loved.

and for the first time, you weren’t afraid to be soft.

"i love you too, satoru. so much."

RAHHHH CHAT MY FIRST LONG FIC DONE WAS THAT GAS?!🫦🫦🫦

seeing the sweet comments literally made me giggle and kick my feet i love you ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

[heavenlybodies333]

Jealousy is a Hell of a Drug - S.R

Spencer Reid x jealousgf!reader

You didn’t plan on drinking tonight.

Honestly, you thought it’d just be a casual get-together—Emily had called it “team bonding,” and Rossi was buying, so who were you to say no? Spencer hadn’t been able to stop rambling about this new book he’d read, you’d teased him for talking through the appetizer menu, and everything had been perfect.

Until she walked in. Dr. Madison Keane. Nuclear physicist. MIT doctorate. His “joint dissertation partner,” whatever the fuck that meant. All you knew was she was tall, gorgeous, and practically hanging off of Spencer’s arm like she belonged there.

“Oh my God, Spencer?” she gasped, her hand finding his bicep. “I didn’t even recognize you without the curls!”The rest of the team greeted her, cordial and curious. Spencer was glowing—introducing everyone, detailing exactly how he and Madison had co-authored some impossible dissertation about nuclear subparticles. And when his eyes finally turned to you, “This is—”

You didn’t let him finish. You looped your arm through Emily’s and flashed him your sweetest, fakest smile. “We’re getting a drink.” Two absinthe shots later and you slammed the glass down and glared at the mirrored wall. “Do you like her?” you asked Emily, too loud.

She choked on her shot, laughing behind her hand. “Is this a trap?”

“She’s not even that pretty,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “And what kind of bitch doesn’t understand personal space why is she touching him like that?”

“She probably earned it,” Emily teased, nudging your shoulder. “Co-writing a dissertation’s practically marriage.”

God that made you angrier, “She talks to him like I’m not even real. Who even says 'nuclear physics' at a bar?” Emily patted your back. “The kind of girl who wants to fuck your boyfriend.”

“Exactly!” you said pissed off. You turned around. They were still talking—too close, too intimate. You saw Madison’s fingers trail down his arm again, and that was it.

You stormed back to the table with an empty smile and a new drink. “So how do you two know each other again?” you asked, cutting Spencer off mid-sentence.

He blinked at you. “She’s from MIT. We—”

“Oh, right. Nuclear physics,” you said, taking a long sip. “Because quantum entanglement just isn’t sexy enough at parties.”

Madison laughed politely. “It’s more fun than it sounds, I promise.”

“Sure,” you smiled tightly. “I’m sure you two had so much fun.”

Her voice sweet, her smile practiced. You knew girls like her. Hell, you used to be girls like her. Overly confident. Insecure in the worst way—like she needed you to know she had history with Spencer. “You must be his… coworker?” she asked, voice sugar-laced poison.

You smiled back tightly. “Girlfriend.”

Her mouth twitched. “Oh! I didn’t realize…”, eyes flicking up and down like she was scanning for weaknesses, and said sweetly, “It must be so nice dating someone so smart.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, completely ignoring her. You looked her up and down. “You still in academia?”

She smirked. “Of course. Published just last month, actually. I’m surprised Spencer hasn’t mentioned it. But then again… maybe he’s just too busy.”

You tilted your head, biting your cheek.

“I mean, I can’t imagine it’s easy to have a relationship when one person’s reading quantum mechanics before breakfast and the other’s... tagging along.” You lasted another 30 seconds before she leaned in to whisper something into Spencer’s ear, fingers still on his sleeve, and that was it. Your drink flew. Straight into her smug face.

You didn’t wait for the gasp or the splash or Spencer’s stunned voice. You just turned on your heel and walked out the front door, head held high, fury burning behind your ribs like napalm.

Behind you, you heard him—“Madison, I’m so sorry, she’s—” You heard him apologize to her—apologize to HER—and your stomach flipped with betrayal.

Fuck him.

You were halfway down the block when you heard his voice behind you. You didn’t slow down. Not until his hand caught your wrist, pulling you gently but firmly to a stop on the sidewalk. “Baby wait—”

You yanked your arm free. “Go back to her, Spencer.”

“What? No. No—fuck—don’t do that.” His voice cracked with confusion. “Why did you throw a drink at her?!” You ignored him, continuing to walk away from him, tears welling up in your eyes.

“Stop walking! Jesus—would you please talk to me?”

“Talk to your dissertation partner!” you snapped, spinning to face him. “You two can split atoms together and jerk each other off over how smart you are!”

Spencer blinked. “Are you seriously mad that I ran into a colleague?”

“You apologized to her,” you hissed. “She had her hands all over you—”

“She hugged me—”

“She touched your bicep, Spencer!”

“I didn’t ask her to!”

“But you didn’t stop her either.”

Silence.

“I don’t like her. I don’t want her. I want you,” he said, voice low, pained. “God, baby. I didn’t even notice she was touching me. I was trying to introduce you.”

You turned around and wouldn’t face him, arms crossed and as you went to sit down angrily on the curb you lost your balance falling back on the sidewalk right on your ass.

Spencer’s mouth opened and closed. “You’re drunk.”

“No.” you answered hotly.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “Let’s go home.”

“I’m not done yelling at you.”

“You can yell at me all you want. Just not in the middle of the street.” He stared at you, jaw clenched. Then he pulled out his phone and ordered the Uber without another word.

You didn’t speak again until you were inside his apartment, shoes off, arms crossed, fuming. “I hate her.”

“She’s not important.”

You turned to him. “Then why did you defend her?”

“Because she didn’t deserve to get humiliated in public.”

“What about me?” your voice cracked. “Do I deserve to feel like I’m second best?”

His expression softened instantly. “No. God, no. You’re not—”

“I can’t believe you apologized to her.”

“I had to,” he said tightly. “You threw a drink in her face.”

“She deserved it.”

“She didn’t.”

“She was all over you.”

“She was being friendly. She was an old colleague.”

You scoffed, turning away. “Right. Another genius. Maybe you’d be happier with someone like that. Someone who understands your fucking dissertations.”

Spencer didn’t reply. He came up behind you instead—his hands sliding around your waist, his voice soft in your ear. “You’re the only one I want baby, I promise. And I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to understand every part of you—because every time I do, I fall in love all over again.”

You let him guide you to the bed, fingers pulling your dress up as he kisses down your thighs. Gasping as he pulled your panties down, lifting one of your legs over his shoulder. When his head dipped between your thighs, he held your legs open, eyes locking with yours.

“Let me make it better,” he said. His fingers dug into your thighs to keep you in place, and he moaned against your cunt like he needed this, needed you. His mouth was heaven—soft, insistent, relentless. He licked and sucked like he had all the time in the world, humming when your thighs clenched around him, praising you between licks.

“God, you’re so good for me. So sweet when you’re not being a brat.” He grinned against your skin. “My perfect girl.”

You whimpered. “Don’t think about her,” he said, tongue circling your clit. “She’s gone. Only you now.”

“Spence,” you moaned. He flattened his tongue, slow strokes that made your head spin. Your fingers tangled in his hair as your head tipped back, heat coiling in your belly. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I was so—”

“Don’t,” he said gently, curling one finger inside you now, his mouth still relentless. “You don’t ever have to apologize for loving me like that.”

You cried out, hips twitching, the world melting into the feeling of his mouth, his hands, his praise like poetry spilling from his lips.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he moaned. “Give it to me, baby. Let go. That’s my good girl.”

Your hips bucked. “Spencer—oh—fuck.” legs shaking, thighs clenching around his head.

When he pulled back, lips glistening, he pressed soft kisses to your thighs and looked up at you with those impossibly kind eyes. “I don’t care how many dissertations I wrote with her,” he went on, his thumbs brushing your cheeks. “I love you, I love how you dont like pickles with anything and always give me your extra one, I love how your favorite things to collect are those little teacups, I love getting to cook for you, I love that you’re smart in ways that can’t be measured with letters after your name. I love you now and forever. ”

You finally exhaled. “I love you too.”

He was yours. Nuclear physics bitch be damned.

a/n: okayyy papiiiichulo

⋆•★⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆★•⋆

[thestarsaboveme]

this was a request from a kind anon.

summary: angst with comfort, reader and lads men having a misunderstanding because reader is overthinking that they’re cheating on her with the mc since they always spend time with the mc and spending less time with the reader.

xavier ver. | rafayel ver. | sylus ver. | caleb ver.

zayne x reader | angst/comfort

It started with unanswered messages.

Then missed calls.

Then the quiet shift in your routines. Zayne showing up later, leaving earlier, his brow constantly furrowed voice always tired.

You told yourself it was just the workload. He was a doctor, after all. A man carrying the weight of every life that depended on his hands.

But lately…he'd been carrying that weight with someone else at his side.

MC.

And you couldn't stop the spiral that followed.

-

''Patient priority,'' he'd said the last time you made dinner. ''MC and I are working together all week. Critical cases.''

He barely touched the plate you'd made him.

You nodded and smiled, like you always did, telling yourself not to be petty.

But how could you ignore the fact that she was always there? That they moved like two parts of the same instinct in the hospital? That when he finally did respond to your texts, he'd said things like ''MC just understands.''

As if you didn't.

As if you weren't enough anymore.

The worst part? Zayne wasn't the type to flirt. He didn't slip up. So if he were developing feelings for MC, it wouldn't be obvious. He'd just…pill away.

Like now.

Like this.

Your hand hovered over your phone as you sat curled up on the edge of your bed, cold dinner on the nightstand beside you.

You typed the message three time before finally sending it.

I need to see you tonight. Please. It's important.

His reply came twenty minutes later.

I'll be there in an hour.

You weren't sure whether the ache in your chest was relief or dread.

When he arrived, the weight of his presence filled the room the way it always did. Like quiet thunder wrapped in a white coat and tired eyes.

He removed his glasses silently, posture taut. ''You sounded upset.''

You nodded, swallowing the knot in your throat. ''I am.''

He studied your face for a moment, sharp eyes scanning like they always did in the emergency room. Searching for signs, symptoms, the source of pain. You wondered if he'd even recognize that the wound this time was him.

''I need to ask you something,'' you said, barely above a whisper. ''And I need you to be honest.''

''I always am.''

''Are you cheating on me…with MC?''

The words fell like stones into a bottomless well. Heavy. Final. Loud in their simplicity.

Zayne froze.

Not visibly. But you knew him too well. It was in the slightest shift in his breathing, the way his shoulders straightened a fraction too sharply.

''No,'' he said, voice even.

''Then why does it feel like I'm losing you?'' you whispered.

His jaw clenched. ''You're not.''

You stood up, heart pounding. ''Then explain why you're always with her. Why your attention's always on her. Why when we do speak, all you talk about is MC. Her instincts, her decisions in the field. It's like you admire her more than me. Like I've become…invisible.''

Zayne looked at you like your words had struck deeper than any scalpel ever could.

''I didn't realize you felt that way,'' he said.

''That's because you've been somewhere else, Zayne. You've been hers. Emotionally, mentally. And I'm here, sitting with every meal you missed, every plan you forgot, wondering what I did wrong.''

''You did nothing wrong,'' he said. Sharper now, not with anger, but something more desperate. Urgent.

You looked away, blinking against the sting behind your eyes, ''Then why does it feel like you don't want me anymore?''

A long silence followed.

Then.

''Because I'm afraid I'm going to lose you.''

Your gaze snapped back to him. ''What?''

Zayne stepped forward, closing the distance with the same quiet certainty he used in the OR when time was running out.

''I've seen what happens when someone becomes your everything,'' he said. ''When you stop thinking clinically. When fear clouds your judgment. When love makes you hesitate. And that hesitation costs lives.''

You blinked, stunned.

''I thought if I kept things efficient,'' he continued, ''if I buried myself in work and leaned on MC for tactical decisions, maybe I could keep you at a safe distance. Protect you from this life. From me.''

You stared. ''You were pushing me away on purpose?''

''Not to hurt you,'' he said, softer now. ''To protect you. But I see now I've only hurt you more.''

You shook your head, stepping back. ''You don't get to make that choice for me. You don't get to decide I'm better off without the truth.''

Zayne's voice cracked, barely, but enough.

''I didn't mean to make you feel like you weren't enough. You are. Every time I see you, it's like the noise in my head quiets. And that terrifies me, because if I lose that…''

He couldn't finish.

''You thought loving me made you weaker,'' you whispered.

''I thought loving you made you a liability,' he said quietly.'' he said quietly, ''Not because you are. But because I am. Because I'd choose you over protocol in a heartbeat. And people get hurt when you put your heart before your duty.''

You let out a shaky breath. ''MC isn't the one I'm jealous of because she's special to you. I'm jealous because she gets the part of you that I'm supposed to have. The honest part. The present part.''

Zayne stepped closer again, his hand rising, but stopping just short of your face. Hesitant. As if he thought he'd already lost the right.

''You're right to be angry,'' he said. ''And you have every right to walk away.''

You searched his eyes. The same eyes that used to make you feel safe. Now, they look tired. Scared.

''Is that what you want?'' you asked. ''For me to leave?''

''No,'' he said immediately. ''But I'll accept it if it's what you need.''

The silence stretched between you.

''I don't want to leave,'' you said at last. ''I want you back. The man who used to stay up with me after long shifts, who whispered about what constellations mean in ancient texts. The man who looked at me like I was worth fighting for, even when he had nothing left.''

Zayne closed his eyes for a moment, like your words were a wound he'd been waiting to feel.

Then he reached for you. Slow, reverent.

You didn't move away.

You leaned into his touch, letting the warmth of his skin soothe the cold that had been in your chest for days.

His fingers brushed your jaw, then settled there gently.

''He's still here,'' he said, voice thick with emotion. ''No more protecting you by erasing us.''

''I don't need you to be invincible, Zayne,'' you murmured. ''I just need you to be you. With me.''

''I can do that,'' he whispered.

And when he held you this time, it wasn't as a doctor shielding someone from pain.

It was a man choosing to stay.

To feel.

To love.

[tinylilacbun]

can you write one where little! reader is being extra bratty and fussy today and rafe has had enough and puts her in time out and threatens with another punishment or something but then sofia notices that the readers cheeks are all flushed and she’s curling up like she’s cold and sofia takes her temperature and she’s like “that’s why you’ve been fussy, you’re sick” and then rafe feels awful about punishing little! reader?

i love your stuff!

You already woke up with an attitude and a slight pounding head, not wanting to change out of your jammies at first, then you didn't want to eat breakfast, later on as you're relaxing on the couch you whine when Rafe turns the TV off and claims that you should go find some other kind of entertainment because you've been watching cartoons for a while now.

"Don' wanna." You huff, moving onto your stomach to hide your face in the cushions. "Wanna watch movie."

"And I want you to go do something else." He says, placing the remote on a high surface you can't reach. "Or I'll take you upstairs to nap, your choice."

"Noooo!" You whine, kicking your legs in frustration as your body starts to heat up again.

"Listen, I've been real patient with you today, so if you don't change your attitude right now I'll-" He warns you, pointing a finger at you as you suddenly say something he never thought you would dare to, especially while being little.

"Shut up..." You mumble but Rafe heard you crystal clear.

"What did you just say?" He asks, his eyes narrowing as he takes a few steps closer to where you're laying. "Care to repeat that, young lady?"

You sit up on the couch, glaring at him defiantly. "I saids shut-"

Before you can even finish Rafe's hand shoots out to grab your wrist, pulling you up to stand in front of him, towering over you. "If you're not sitting in the corner in the next ten seconds, I'll make sure you won't be able to sit for a damn week."

You gulp, quickly regretting your choice of words even though you can't help it with how you're feeling right now.

Rafe doesn't even notice your flushed cheeks or how warm your skin feels, too infuriated with your behavior to catch onto it.

When he lets go, you pad over to the corner, plopping down on the ground and face the wall, only hearing Rafe's footsteps disappear to what you can only assume must be the kitchen.

On his way there he crosses paths with Sofia who just finished taking a shower, her hair still slightly damp as she places her hand on his bicep to stop him. "What happened?" She asks, nodding towards you sitting in time out.

"What's been going on the whole day and I'm tired of it. She's in time out for how long I see fit." He explains, almost relaxing when she stands up on her toes to kiss his jaw.

"Okay, I'll try and talk to her." She says, making her way to where you are leaning with your side against the wall, your body shivering as she kneels on the ground beside you. "Angel?"

You don't respond, feeling too nauseous to even move a muscle and only answer with a quiet whimper.

"Hey..." She coos, taking a better look at your face, her brows furrowing with concern as she notices how flushed your face is and the way your eyes flutter close from time to time. "Are you alright, sweetie?"

She reaches out to feel your forehead, then moves her hand to your cheek and the back of your neck, frowning as she realizes why you've been behaving differently all day.

"Oh, baby, that's why you're so fussy, hm? You have a fever." She observes, moving some of your hair from your face, calling out for Rafe.

"What?" He asks with slight irritation, entering the living room again and sees how Sofia helps you to stand up on rather shaky legs. "Babe, I just told-"

"She's sick." She quickly retorts, leading you back over to the couch and makes sure you lay down comfortably, grabbing a blanket and drapes it over your shivering body.

Rafe's whole mood shifts from frustrated to slight guilt, rubbing the back of his neck as he finally sees in what state you're actually in, watching Sofia tucking you in and standing up again. "Mama is getting you some medicine, okay?"

You just nod in response, wrapping the blanket more around yourself as she walks off to get everything you might need right now.

Rafe eventually moves over to you, sitting down next to you he lets out a sigh as you shuffle to snuggle against his side, wrapping an arm around your body to keep you close.

"I should've noticed sooner..." He mutters mostly to himself, feeling your forehead with his other hand.

You only hum, closing your eyes as your cheek is smushed on his stomach. A few minutes later Sofia returns, carrying a tray with medicine, some soup, your favorite stuffie, and a pacifier in case you regress even smaller.

She smiles at the sight of you and Rafe cuddling, knowing how sorry he must feel, he doesn't even need to say it as his actions speak volumes, the way he holds you and rubs your back, whispering sweet nothings to you.

[bettelaboure]

⊹Tell Me To Stop⊹ | Choi Seung-Hyun

seventh part in series "Course in Chemistry"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

⊹ Pairing: Choi Seung-Hyun x Reader

⊹ Warnings: sexual tension, explicit sexual content, embarrassment, mature language, peer pressure, and high school dynamics involving gossip and judgment

⊹ Summary: Y/N helps Seung-Hyun explore his sexual curiosity through an intimate and consensual encounter that begins with erotic media and leads to mutual physical exploration

⊹ Author's note: This one is a bit bit longer, full of shit show, so grab popcorn and let's go! we are nearly at the end

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"Urgh! I can't do this!" You threw your hands in the air and slammed them onto the floor, burying your face in your palms.

Jae-mi looked up from her bed to see you sprawled out on her bedroom floor, surrounded by textbooks and notes, clearly overwhelmed by the complexity of Present Continuous.

"Do what?" she asked, shutting her Spanish textbook, eyeing your frustration with a mix of concern and amusement.

"This." You gestured to the textbook in front of you. "It's all so..."

"Boring?"

"Complicated," you huffed, rubbing your hands over your face. "Why can't they just make it like a fun story or give step-by-step instructions that make sense?"

"Because it's a textbook, not a bestselling novel," Jae-mi teased as she joined you on the floor. She glanced at your notebook. "What's that?"

"A snowman eating its own nose," you muttered.

"Nice," she said dryly.

You groaned and slapped the book closed. Stupid book. Whoever created textbooks should be jailed for the mass destruction of teenage happiness.

"Are you and Choi Seung-Hyun seriously done?" Jae-mi asked, her voice softer now.

You rolled your eyes. "You say that like we were ever in a relationship."

"You kind of were," she said, shrugging.

You shot her a glare, and she lifted her hands in surrender. "Okay, more like in a weird tutor-student-situationship-friends-with-benefits vibe."

You chuckled, exhaling. "Please. Seung-Hyun and I were never friends." Were you? Did he think of you that way? You spent a lot of time together, after all.

"You did spend a lot of time with each other," she echoed your thoughts. "And you both saw each other in... personal ways."

Very personal. You gave him a hand-job and he saw you naked. That was hard to ignore.

"Look, all I'm saying is maybe you should talk to him. You clearly need him."

"I do not need him!" you snapped.

"Okay!" she backed off with raised hands. "But then how are you going to get your grades up?"

Good question.

"Maybe I'll drop out and become a stripper," you mumbled.

Jae-mi gave you a deadpan look. "You can’t even touch your toes. How would you do the splits on a pole?"

"I can learn!"

"You can also learn how English sentences work," she said, tapping the textbook.

You groaned again. Why was she always right?

Back in class, you were calculating how many minutes were left before you either escaped or hurled yourself out the window. Mrs. Arakaki had been glaring at you like you’d insulted her ancestors. Her constant nagging, condescending tone, and unfair callouts made it impossible to behave.

You’d once gotten a week’s detention for threatening to paint the classroom red because she wouldn’t let you go to the bathroom during your period.

"Y/N," she called, eyes narrowing. "今日はどうですか?"

Oh, for fuck's sake.

"今日は元気ですか?" Choi Seung-Hyun, seated behind you, gestured for you to respond.

"Are you on drugs?" you muttered. He raised a brow.

"Seriously?" he pressed. "How are you today, Y/N?"

What was he doing?

"Fine. I got shampoo in my eyes this morning, but I’m still alive."

He chuckled, leaning back.

"So... good? Say it. '良い.'"

"良い," you tried. He nodded encouragingly.

"So, 今日はどうですか?"

You smiled, something clicking.

"良い," you answered again.

The look on Mrs. Arakaki’s face dropped. You never responded in Japanese, and your tiny victory made you glow with pride. You wanted to rub it in her face.

You actually got something right.

Because of him.

Damn it. No, not because of him. You don’t need him. You told him that. And Y/N doesn’t go back on her word.

The cafeteria hadn't changed much since the Se-mi disaster. She hadn’t shown her face since, and neither had Jun-ho. Drama queen.

Jae-mi was deep in her history notes, preparing to destroy Young-bae in their next class.

"You know you’ll look back and wonder why you were so obsessed with beating some guy," you said lazily.

The glare she shot you could have killed.

"I will revel in it. He's Satan's twin, and I will vanquish him."

"Maybe you two should just have angry sex and get it over with."

Now the glare had grown murderous.

"That’s the most horrifying image I’ve ever imagined," she hissed.

Please. If only she knew.

"Suit yourself," you murmured, stabbing your salad.

Later, standing at your locker, you fixed your hair and tried to remember what had possessed you to make a deal with Choi Seung-Hyun. What were you thinking?

How could someone so disinterested in school thrive with a tutor like him? And how could you turn someone like him—a total newbie to sex—into anything remotely confident? The plan had been doomed from the start.

You turned around—and there he was.

Leaning against the wall, book in hand, he was staring at someone else.

Se-mi.

She came back to school.

With her blonde hair glowing in the light, flute case in hand, she looked like an angel. Everything you weren’t. Innocent. Sweet. Happy. She was the type of girl who looked like she erased the darkness from a room.

Kinder. More genuine. But with a biteful tongue.

You watched his eyes follow her like she was the only thing that existed. You wondered what he was thinking. Was it about her? About the date he had planned? About the books he read?

Was she the one he pictured?

When you kissed him, when you touched him, when he whispered beautiful against your skin—had he meant you?

Or had he meant her?

The question echoed in your mind, pounding like a second heartbeat.

You were so lost in it that you didn’t notice the jocks approach.

One of them slapped the book from his hands. Another shoved him.

"Weirdo," one sneered.

You clenched your fists.

You wanted to say something.

But before you could, the PA system crackled:

"CAN MISS KIM JAE-MI AND L/N Y/N PLEASE REPORT TO THE PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE. THANK YOU."

Silence.

Everyone turned to look—including Seung-Hyun, Se-mi, and the jocks.

Your heart dropped into your stomach.

Oh god.

What now?

The last thing you expected to see in the Principal's office was Jae-mi sitting anxiously across from Mr. Park's desk.

Mr. Park always carried himself like he had a permanent stick lodged somewhere unfortunate. He wasn’t just strict—he was insufferably smug, and while you usually admired people who owned their power unapologetically, with him it was different. He was the kind of authority figure that made you want to rip your own ears off just so you wouldn’t have to listen to his self-righteous, monotone squawking.

"Y/N," he acknowledged dryly as you walked in. "Sit."

You didn’t protest. You weren’t even entirely sure why you were here, and antagonizing Mr. Park was only going to make it worse. You took the seat beside Jae-mi, whose face was pale and tight with worry. She wasn’t used to being summoned for anything less than praise.

"I’m sure you’re both aware of the diary pages that have been circulating around school," Mr. Park began.

Your eyes met Jae-mi’s. Shit.

"And I received a very concerned call from Dr. Kang regarding the vulgar invasion of his daughter’s privacy."

Here it comes.

"I have strong reason to believe you two are behind this," he continued.

"And what makes you think that?" you asked, arms crossed, tone defiant.

Mr. Park smirked with satisfaction as he rotated his monitor toward you both. "I’m so glad you asked. Vice Principal Seo installed new CCTV cameras around campus recently. A very wise move, it turns out."

Your jaw practically hit the floor. There you were on the screen—both you and Jae-mi—tossing printed copies of Se-mi’s diary into the air like flower petals at a wedding.

Well, shit.

"Do you have CCTV everywhere, Mr. Park? Even in storage closets? What’s next, hidden mics in the locker room?" you muttered under your breath, your sarcastic smile barely hiding your panic. Mr. Park had always shown a little too much leniency toward the football team, especially Jun-ho.

"I’d be careful with that tone, Y/N, unless you want your punishment doubled," he warned before turning to Jae-mi. "Miss Kim. I expected better from you. You can kiss “Best Student” award goodbye."

"Jae-mi didn’t do it!" you burst out. No way were you dragging her down with you. She had worked too hard for too long for this to be the reason her shot at that award was taken away.

"Y/N, it’s clear—"

"I made her do it!" you blurted. Jae-mi whipped her head toward you, eyes wide. "I thought if the perfect student was involved, I’d have a better shot at avoiding punishment. I told her I’d spread a rumor about her hooking up in the boys’ locker room if she didn’t help."

Mr. Kim's eyes narrowed as he turned to Jae-mi. "Is this true, Miss Kim?"

You kicked her ankle beneath the desk.

"Y-Yes, sir," she stammered, eyes downcast. You knew it killed her to lie.

Mr. Kim sighed dramatically, tapping his foot. "You may go, Miss Kim. I apologize for the trouble."

She glanced at you, conflicted, but you nodded, silently telling her it was okay. The moment the door shut, Mr. Kim locked his death glare on you.

"In all my years, I’ve never seen such a vile act of bullying—"

"Bullying? That’s a reach," you scoffed. If anything, Se-mi was the queen of emotional terrorism. She looked like angel, but she wasn’t a less bitch than you.

"You’ve humiliated that poor girl and tarnished this school’s reputation. And to blackmail another student? Frankly, I’m not surprised. You’ve been a handful since day one."

"You’re welcome," you muttered.

"So here’s your punishment. Luckily for you, both of Se-mi’s parents work at the hospital, and they’ve generously agreed to offer you community service there."

Your mouth fell open. "Community service? What do I look like, a criminal?!"

"It’ll look far better than suspension on your college applications. Which, I’ve heard, are not going too well."

Damn it, In-su.

"That’s none of your business," you grumbled, slumping back in your chair.

"Perhaps not. But I’d hope you take this as a chance to grow."

What was this, a sermon?

You didn’t have a witty comeback. Honestly, you didn’t want your parents hearing about this. Or anything else, for that matter.

When you were finally dismissed, Jae-mi was waiting outside, chewing on her lip.

"What happened?!" she whisper-shouted, dragging you into the corridor. "You shouldn’t have done that! I didn’t ask you to—"

"It’s fine," you reassured her, holding her by the shoulders. "I didn’t even get suspended."

"What?"

"Yeah, I got community service at the hospital instead. Apparently, Se-mi’s parents work there."

Jae-mi blinked. "Community service? What are you, an inmate?"

"That’s what I said! But hey, better than suspension."

"And it’ll look better on your college applications," she said pointedly.

"Don’t remind me," you muttered, eyes scanning the now-empty halls. "Where is everyone, anyway?"

"We missed last period. They’ve probably gone home."

Great. You finally started trying to do better in school, and Mr. Park decided the best way to reward you was to drag you back to rock bottom with a lecture and hospital labor.

Awesome.

"Hello again, Y/N."

"In-su," you reply, narrowing your eyes with spite.

You still can’t believe he snitched to Principal Park about your college situation. And being in the guidance counselor's office? Still feels like punishment.

"I'm sure you know why you're here."

There are so many reasons you could be here, you might as well reach into the grab bag of disaster and see what flavor of hell you’ve drawn today.

"You found the bag of crack in my locker?"

In-su’s eyes go wide, and you chuckle. "Relax. It was a joke."

"You shouldn’t joke about those things, Y/N," he says sternly.

"And you shouldn’t be spreading my private business to Principal Park," you fire back. Checkmate.

In-su sighs, folding his arms. "I have to put all your info on ProMonitor. Only me and Principal Park have access."

Great. That... actually makes sense.

You groan. "Then what do you want now?" If he’s gearing up for another inspirational speech, you're going straight through the nearest window.

"Mr. Kim reported that Choi Seung-Hyun is no longer tutoring you."

You blink. Huh. You figured Seung-Hyun would quietly ghost the tutoring agreement, not actually file it with the administration. Weirdly official. Weirdly painful.

"Yeah, so?"

"He told Mr. Kim you weren’t doing the work."

Snake.

"And?"

In-su leans forward, resting his forearms on the desk. "Y/N, right now it’s really looking like you're repeating the year."

"What?!" Panic shoots through your chest, even though you knew this was coming. You thought maybe you could wing it alone. "I can do this on my own!"

"Then let me ask you something." In-su adjusts his glasses—purely for aesthetic, you’re sure. "Tell me something in Japanese."

You squint at him. Is he serious?

"Um, what?"

"Say anything. In Japanese. Go ahead."

You wiggle uncomfortably in your seat. "Uh... 私の名前は—"

"Something complex, Y/N."

"Well, I don’t know anything complex!"

"Okay. Chemical symbol for gold?"

"Gd—"

"What form do muscles store glucose in?"

"Square—?"

"Two examples of collecting data?"

"Uhhh..."

"When did the World War II end?"

"1940...?"

In-su gives you a look. You sigh and throw your hands up. "I don’t know, okay?!"

He smiles like he’s just checkmated you in 3D chess.

"I’m gonna be real with you, Y/N."

"You always are," you mutter under your breath.

"I really don’t want you repeating a year," he says. You open your mouth, but he cuts you off. "Believe it or not, I want every student to succeed. But you? You're not even trying. No effort, no graduation."

You glare past him at the tacky motivational poster behind his head. "You don’t succeed," you say flatly.

"Exactly!" In-su beams.

Someone, somewhere, cue the funeral music.

"Now, I don’t know what happened between you and Seung-Hyun," he continues.

Clothes happened. That’s what. And Se-mi.

"But I suggest you talk it out and get back on track."

"Can’t I just get another tutor?" you groan.

"Choi Seung-Hyun is one of the best students here. Mr. Kim specifically matched him to you. His advice? Worth taking."

You snatch your bag. "You really enjoy making my life hell, don’t you?"

"At least I’m making a difference!" he chirps, giving you a thumbs-up as you storm out.

"Déjà vu," Jae-mi whispers beside you as you crouch behind the library shelves.

You know exactly what she means. It feels like forever ago that you cornered Seung-Hyun here and begged him to tutor you. Now here you are again.

"You got a game plan?" she asks.

Not exactly. You run through possible intros.

Hey Seung-Hyun, remember when I called you a dick and said no one would ever like you? Let’s be friends again, yeah?

No.

Hey, remember when you called me pathetic? Well, you were right.

Definitely not.

If you don’t tutor me, I’m going to jab my pencil through your eye socket.

Okay, dial it down.

"He’s moving!" Jae-mi hisses.

"What?"

Before you can react, she shoves you into the next aisle—right into Seung-Hyun’s path as he slides a book back onto the shelf.

You smooth your skirt, run your fingers through your hair. You got this.

You grab the closest book and approach him.

"Hey," you say sweetly. "Can you put this back for me?"

He turns, eyes as cold as steel, and brushes past you without a word.

Okay. You don’t got this.

Pull yourself together, Y/N.

You chase after him. "Look, Seung-Hyun, I know our last talk wasn’t exactly friendly, but I really think—"

He turns the corner, ignoring you.

"Hey!" You jog after him. "Seung-Hyun!" You catch a glimpse of Jae-mi peeking from behind a pillar with a helpless shrug.

"For God’s sake, I’m talking to you!" You grab his sleeve.

"What?!" he snaps, spinning around.

Whoa. Okay. Not expecting that.

"I need to talk to you," you say more softly.

He stares, annoyed. Waiting.

"I need you to tutor me again."

He lets out a low, bitter laugh. "Yeah, right."

You block his path. "Look, I know we’re not exactly best friends right now—"

"Understatement of the century."

"—But we both need something. So let’s make this easy. You keep helping me study, and I keep helping you... y’know. Sexy-sexy time? Deal?"

You flash your most hopeful smile.

He eyes you critically. You hold your ground.

"You really want to know what I think?" he asks.

You nod.

"I think you use people at your convenience."

"Excuse me—"

"You think I was desperate to have you back?"

"I’m not—"

"Face it, Y/N. Your whole life, people bend for you. But that’s not real. And I can’t trust you."

"Wait—what?"

"I can’t trust you, Y/N."

You scoff. "Are you kidding? I’m the most trustworthy person I kn—"

"The deal went both ways," he says, stepping closer. "I helped you with school. You helped me with sex. But I told you from the start—I needed you to meet me halfway. And you didn’t."

"I—"

"You did nothing. And that’s why this is all on you."

He pushes past you, leaving you stunned and speechless. Jae-mi rushes over.

"So...?"

"I’m fucked."

"Fucked metaphorically? Or—"

"Jae-mi."

"...Metaphorically. Got it." She stares down at her shoes.

You groan, kicking the bookshelf in frustration.

And to make it worse? That’s when you remember:

Your English essay is due tomorrow.

And it’s 11 p.m.

On a Wednesday.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you mutter, tearing through your room in search of a pen.

Mr. Kim swore you'd fail the class if this essay didn’t land on his desk by morning.

And that is definitely not on your to-do list.

Your conversation with Choi Seung-Hyun still bubbled in your brain—and boiled your blood. What made it worse was the fact that he’d been right. You hadn’t even tried with the tutoring part of the deal. You’d agreed to help him with schoolwork, but instead, you let the whole thing turn into a crash course in sex education—and you’d completely ignored your end of the bargain otherwise.

Now, it showed.

You scrambled to find a pen and notebook, finally yanking them out from under your bed. Thank God. You threw yourself into your squeaky desk chair, wincing at the sound. You hated that damn thing, but it was better than sitting on your bed and inevitably wrapping yourself in layers of blankets like a burrito, only to fall asleep halfway through whatever you were meant to do.

Jae-mi, the absolute angel she was, had let you borrow her history notes a few days ago while you were "studying." You say "studying" because you’d actually spent that time doodling Santa hats on every historical figure you could find. Abraham Lincoln looked like Santa Claus on a juice cleanse, and it cracked you up.

Focus, Y/N.

What was this essay on again?

Oh, right—World War II.

Why the hell Mr. Kim wanted your essay on history? 

Half an hour passed, and you glanced down at your notebook only to find… not an essay. Nope. What you had was a passionately aggressive letter addressed to Anthony Marwood and Stephanie Callington, the sadistic authors of this torturous textbook. You were now referring to it exclusively as Satan’s Bible.

Okay, it wasn’t too extreme—just an “I hope your children suffer just as much as I have these last thirty minutes” and a casually slipped in “don’t be surprised if your houses get set on fire.” But hey, what could you do?

Twenty more minutes passed, and you were spiraling.

You have to actually have wits for them to end, Y/N.

If only textbooks weren’t so damn boring. Maybe if someone made them into cool TV shows—

"It’s a history website. They make documentaries in the style of American TV shows. The acting's a bit bad and questionable, but it's entertaining nonetheless."

Seung-Hyun's voice echoed in your brain like a mini divine intervention. You practically launched out of your chair and started digging through the laundry-pile disaster that was your floor, searching for your school bag. After throwing pencils and highlighters across the room in a frenzy, you finally found it.

“Bingo,” you whispered, then bolted back to your desk, turning on your computer and typing the website link from his neat handwriting into the browser.

It was a long shot, and it was late. Nearly midnight. Your eyelids were heavy, fingers sluggish as you typed D-Day into the search bar. You rubbed at your eyes and scrolled through until you found a video that looked like it covered the basics for your essay.

Then you hit play.

It was around nine when you woke up the next morning, your essay stuck to your face and your hair a complete disaster—a lopsided topknot that had somehow turned into a bird’s nest. If it hadn’t been for Jae-mi calling to complain about Young-bae stealing her parking spot (again), you wouldn’t have woken up at all.

You sprinted down the school hallways with your essay in hand, trying not to trip over your own feet from lack of sleep. You’d been up until 3 a.m. watching that documentary, and credit where credit's due—Seung-Hyun had been right. It was entertaining. You hadn’t written that much in your life.

Your English class had just emptied out as you ran up to the door.

You were definitely late, but at least you could still turn in the assignment.

“Mr. Kim!” you called, breathless, as you entered the classroom.

He didn’t even glance at you. “I’m not giving extensions on the essay, Y/N. You know the rules—”

“I have the essay!” you held it up triumphantly.

Mr. Kim turned slowly—either out of old age or total shock. “You’ve what?” he blinked.

“I’ve... I’ve done it,” you said, holding it out. He stared at the pages like they might disintegrate in his hands, flipping through them, holding them up to the light like a detective analyzing a forged check.

“These are three double-sided pages,” he muttered in disbelief.

“I know,” you replied. You’d earned every word on that paper.

He rubbed a wrinkled hand down his face and whispered, “Well, I’ll be...”

“Is—Is it okay?” your confidence faltered suddenly. “Did I do it wrong? Is it too much? What if—”

“No, no,” he waved his hand to cut you off. “It’s absolutely fine. I’ll get this marked and back to you by Monday.” He was still staring at your work, stunned.

“Oh... okay.” You chirped, spinning on your heel to head out.

You did it, Y/N. You actually did it.

You were so proud of yourself. The high from that moment carried you through the whole day. You told Jae-mi about your victory during lunch, and she’d looked just as surprised as Mr. Kim—but even more thrilled.

Well, she would have been more thrilled if she hadn’t gotten crushed by Young-bae again in that Physics pop quiz during first period. The look on her face—pure rage, tinged with betrayal—was legendary. You swore her hair was about to twist into little snakes and turn the whole gym to stone.

“This whole ego complex he has is driving me insane,” she muttered during stretches. “If I hear one more word about how he likes to fuck girls standing up because it gives him a ‘better angle,’ I’m shoving a pencil up his ass. That’ll give him a better angle.”

You choked back a laugh.

Honestly, you couldn’t wait for high school to end, mostly so this bizarre, eternal rivalry between Jae-mi and Young-bae could finally burn out. The girl spent so much time plotting his defeat—scribbling vicious little stick figures of him in her notebook, dreaming up creative insults like it was her sport.

Then again, no one got under her skin the way Young-bae did.

After last class, the two of you walked back through the halls, headed toward her locker, when a familiar 6’2" brunette stepped into view.

Seung-Hyun.

You wondered what he’d say if he knew you’d actually handed in your English essay.

He rejected you, remember?

Still... he'd be proud.

What’s the point of him being proud if he doesn’t even like you anymore?

But... he’d be proud.

“Hang on a sec,” you told Jae-mi, jogging ahead.

“Hey!” you chirped as you caught up to him.

Seung-Hyun glanced your way—and rolled his eyes before turning back to his locker.

“Guess what,” you tried again, bouncing slightly. You couldn’t help it. You were excited. You wanted him to be proud of you.

“I don’t have time for this, Y/N,” he grumbled, pulling books out and shoving them into his backpack.

“No, no! You want to hear this!” You waved your arms a bit, hoping he’d look at you.

Nothing.

So you rushed ahead anyway. “I—I handed in my English essay! Three pages. Double-sided!”

He slammed his locker shut, your smile faltering as the sound echoed.

“Cool. Whatever.” He sighed, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

“But… I did the… I thought that... w-what?” You could barely form a sentence. The wind was knocked straight out of you.

“I’m really not interested, Y/N. See you.”

And with that, he turned and walked away—leaving you there like a complete idiot.

Jae-mi appeared at your side, wincing.

“That was harsh.”

You frowned, eyes glued to your shoes.

You just wanted him to be proud of you.

Before you stood a large, dimly lit room. The walls were raw brick, the floor polished black concrete. Scattered throughout the space were worn pieces of gym equipment: treadmills, bench presses, pull-up bars, elliptical trainers, rowing machines. Yoga mats were laid out across the floor, surrounded by tires, skipping ropes, and stacks of barbells.

A makeshift gym.

What the hell was Choi Seung-Hyun doing at a gym?

You knew about dance practices, singing lessons, even rap sessions, but gym?

The place wasn’t exactly crowded, but it wasn't empty either. There was a secretive air to it—as though only a certain few were in on it—and those who were treated it like any other gym. You realized instantly how out of place you looked in your heels and miniskirt, surrounded by people dripping in sweat and dressed in proper gym gear.

How the tables had turned. Now you were the outcast.

You walked in slowly, your arms wrapped around your books, eyes scanning the unfamiliar space. You flinched when a tall, broad man approached. He had a friendly, welcoming smile—and a burn scar tracing the side of his neck.

“Are you okay there?” he asked, his tone soft.

“I… erm… I’m looking for someone,” you said, trying not to sound awkward. You could practically hear your inner voice cringing.

“That’s okay,” he replied with a charming smile, folding his arms over his chest. “Who are you looking for?”

A flash of Seung-Hyun filled your mind. You blinked and looked at the man again—now picturing him in full military uniform.

“You’re Seung-Hyun’s dad,” you blurted.

He raised an eyebrow, surprised by how quickly you'd identified him, before his expression softened.

“Erm, yes. And you are?”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N…” he repeated, clearly thinking. Then recognition sparked in his eyes. “You’re the girl he’s been tutoring.”

“That’s me.” You smiled. So Seung-Hyun never told his dad he wasn’t tutoring you anymore?

Interesting.

“My wife’s mentioned you before,” the man continued. “She said you were a lovely girl.”

You found that strange. You’d only met Seung-Hyun’s mother once—or twice if you counted the jewelry store. Yet apparently, she had nice things to say. “You must be looking for Seung-Hyun,” he said, gesturing to the books in your arms.

You nodded quickly, and he smiled warmly.

“Come on, I think he’s down this way.”

You followed him across the gym, eyeing the equipment as you walked. Was this his dad’s place? You remembered hearing he’d left the military—it seemed likely.

“I’m Min-sang, by the way,” he added, offering his hand. You shook it.

“The owner of the gym,” he said with a grin.

Mystery solved.

At the back of the warehouse stood a boxing ring. Inside, a guy with dark brown skin was throwing powerful punches at training pads held by another man. Sweat slicked his sculpted chest as he ducked and weaved, nimble on his feet.

“Hey, Se-hoon!” Min-sang called out.

The guy stopped and looked over, eyes flicking briefly to you before refocusing on Min-sang.

“Any idea where my Se-hoon is?”

See-hoon removed his gloves and vaulted out of the ring in one smooth motion.

“No clue. He’ll probably be out soon.” He slung a towel over his shoulders, then turned his attention to you. “Who’s this?” he asked, eyes raking over you with a teasing glint.

“Y/N,” Min-sang answered. “The girl Seung-Hyun’s tutoring.”

Se-hoon smirked knowingly. “Y/N,” he said, his voice full of implication. “I know all about you.”

Heat rose to your cheeks.

“If you wait here, he’ll be out in a few minutes,” Min-sang added.

“Out from what?” you asked, still unsure what was going on.

Se-hoon sat beside you on the bench. “You’ll see,” he said with a grin.

You huffed and sat down, clinging to your books. You crossed your legs and rested your chin on your fist, bored out of your mind. Where the hell was Seung-Hyun?

Jae-mi was still waiting in the car—probably indulging in her latest obsession with all things BDSM. She likely didn’t want to be disturbed anytime soon.

Then you saw him.

A figure walked to the bench press, landing beside Min-sang. His back was to you, muscles flexing with every movement. Blue gym shorts clung to his thighs, and his brunette hair sparked instant recognition.

When he turned, your jaw nearly dropped to the center of the earth.

Choi Seung-Hyun.

And he had a goddamn six-pack.

“Don’t drool, sweetheart. Where are your manners?” Se-hoon teased.

You turned to him, eyes wide. He leaned back against the wall, sipping from a fancy sports bottle like this was no big deal.

Seung-Hyun didn’t notice you. He cracked his neck, and layed down on the bench. Min-sang stood behind him to spot. 

You couldn't tear your eyes away.

Your gaze roamed over every inch of him: every muscle, every ripple, every bead of sweat rolling down his chest.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “He’s got this.”

And he did. Every bench—he was in complete control. You���d never seen him like this. Gone was the shy, socially awkward boy. In his place stood a man full of confidence and primal strength. His biceps tensed with each bench, veins pulsing under flushed skin. 

It was the hottest thing you’d ever seen.

You stood slowly as Seung-Hyun got up from the bench. His chest heaved with exertion, his entire body glowing with sweat. He ran a hand through his damp hair. Your mouth went dry.

When he finally noticed you, he stopped cold.

His chest rose once.

Twice.

A third time.

“…Y/N?”

“Hey,” you said, trying to sound casual despite the fact you were actively trying not to melt on the spot.

“What… what are you doing here?” he asked, grabbing a towel from the bench and wiping his face.

“I needed to talk to you.”

He blinked, thrown off by your unexpected appearance. Then his eyes drifted down your body—your heels, bare thighs, miniskirt. The flicker in his eyes was unmistakable.

“Now?” he asked, a bit breathless.

“Yes,” you replied, your voice firmer.

He nodded, trying to regain his composure. “Okay… locker room’s this way.”

You followed him down a narrow hallway. The air was cooler back here, but you felt no relief—your skin was already burning. You passed a couple of closed doors before he pushed one open and motioned you inside.

It smelled of sweat and soap. Two rows of lockers lined the room, and a bench ran down the middle. A shower steamed in the corner, still running from someone who’d just left.

Seung-Hyun grabbed a clean towel and draped it over his shoulders, still shirtless, still gleaming. He turned to you, arms crossed.

“So… what did you want to talk about?”

You set your books down on the bench. “We need to clear some things up.”

“Okay…” he said slowly. “About what?”

You walked up to him. “About us.”

His brow furrowed. “There is no ‘us.’”

“Not yet,” you replied.

He blinked.

You didn’t give him time to respond. You reached out, fingertips grazing his chest. He stiffened but didn’t stop you.

“Y/N…” he warned.

You looked up into his eyes. “I saw the way you looked at me just now.”

He swallowed hard.

“I’ve never seen you like that before.”

“That’s because I usually have clothes on,” he said dryly.

You smirked. “You should take them off more often.”

“Y/N…” His voice dropped. “Don’t play games with me.”

“I’m not playing.”

“You’re not thinking straight.”

“No,” you said, stepping closer, “I’m thinking very clearly.”

You reached for the waistband of his shorts, fingers brushing the skin just above them.

He grabbed your wrist. “Don’t.”

You met his eyes. “Why not?”

“Because I won’t be able to stop.”

You tilted your head. “Good.”

He stared at you like you’d just punched him.

Then he kissed you.

Hard.

His hands gripped your hips, pulling you flush against his body as his mouth claimed yours. There was no hesitation, no gentleness—only hunger. He backed you into the lockers, lifting you slightly until your feet left the ground.

You wrapped your legs around his waist as he pressed you against the cool metal, his lips moving down your neck, nipping at your collarbone.

“Tell me to stop,” he growled against your skin.

You tugged at his hair. “Don’t you dare.”

He kissed you again—hot, desperate, consuming—while your hands explored every inch of his back, every line of muscle.

Your hand slips to his waistband, fingers brushing the heat beneath as he helps you strip him down. His cock springs free—hard, heavy, and flushed—and your mouth waters at the sight of it. You wrap your hand around the base, stroking slowly, deliberately, watching his jaw clench as he leans back against the lockers for support.

Then you sink to your knees.

The tile is cold, but you hardly notice. You start with a kiss—just a soft press to the head, tasting the salty bead of precum there. He groans low in his throat, and you feel his fingers thread through your hair. Encouragement. Control. Both.

You take him deeper, inch by inch, letting your lips stretch and your throat relax around him. His breath stutters as you hollow your cheeks and start to bob your head in rhythm. Each glide down brings a new curse from his lips. Each flick of your tongue along the underside has him twitching in your mouth.

“Fuck,” he whispers, one hand gripping the edge of the locker behind him, the other tightening in your hair. “You’re gonna make me come if you keep that up.”

You hum in response—deliberate—and the vibration makes him jerk against your tongue. But you don’t stop. You suck harder, deeper, your pace unrelenting until you feel him throb fully in your mouth. That’s when you pull back, slowly, lips slick, a thin strand of saliva still connecting you to him.

He looks wrecked. Eyes dark, chest rising in ragged breaths, cock still rigid and glistening from your mouth.

Then it’s his turn.

He pulls you to your feet and back to the bench, his hands firm on your hips as he lays you down again. You feel the cool press of the wood under your back, the air sharp against your flushed skin as he peels your underwear away. His fingers spread you open, slow and reverent, and the first touch of his tongue is light—almost teasing.

You whimper.

He flattens his tongue and licks a long, slow stripe from your entrance to your clit, then circles there, soft at first. Then firmer. Deeper. Your thighs twitch around his head, but he holds you steady, arms locked around your thighs to keep you open for him. Every motion is focused, deliberate—like he’s memorizing the way you taste, the way your body arches at just the right angle when he suckles your clit hard.

Your hands find his hair, fingers digging in, hips lifting to chase every wave of pleasure as he devours you like he’s starving.

And when two fingers slide inside you—curling just right—you know you're not going to last long.

Your back arches off the bench as his fingers move inside you—slow at first, then curling, pressing just right against that spot that makes your whole body clench. His tongue never lets up on your clit, flicking in firm, deliberate strokes that sync with the rhythm of his hand.

Every nerve in your body feels like it’s lit from within.

“Seung-Hyun,” you gasp, your voice shaking.

He hums against you, the sound vibrating through your core. You buck against his mouth, helpless to the pace he sets. One of your hands clutches the bench for something—anything—to ground you, while the other stays tangled in his hair, tugging without realizing it.

You can feel it—tight, building, inevitable. That climax, thick and molten, coils deep in your belly, and the way he’s fucking you with his fingers while sucking your clit with that unrelenting pressure pushes you to the edge. Closer. Closer.

Your thighs try to close around his head as the tension snaps.

You come with a sharp cry, back bowing, thighs trembling, hips jerking up into his face. He doesn’t stop—not until you’re whimpering from the aftershocks, from the way your body shudders beneath his tongue.

Only then does he slow down, lips soft now, trailing kisses across your inner thighs as you come down from it all—panting, ruined, bliss-drunk.

He rises between your legs again, mouth slick with your arousal, and leans over you. His eyes are dark and heavy-lidded, but there's the faintest, teasing smirk on his face.

“Taste yourself,” he murmurs, and kisses you deep—wet, filthy, perfect.

Taglist: @petersasteria @redhoodedtoad @mirahyun @sherrayyyyy @sherxoo @dilfismz @breakmeoff @janie-osuih @forevervibezzzz1 @kuinnoa @juliskopf @maskedcrawford @szonyix6277@ldydeath

Series taglist: @1950schick @zaaraaax0 @tabibabib @sofiaaaah @pepsicolapussi

[lovethroughteeth]

⠀͏⏝ི𓏶 CHAPTER 000. ─── 𝓟 𝗥𝗢𝗟𝗢𝗚𝗨𝗘

𝖭𝖤𝖷𝖳

tw: bruises and mention of blood, kinda toxic situationship

wd: 300

The smell of blood was the first thing he noticed when he opened the door. The silence always followed after, like a loyal shadow. And in his office, too dark for the time of day, he saw her: curled up on the couch, face buried between her knees, her back trembling under an oversized sweatshirt.

Baekjin stopped. His jaw clenched. One beat. Two. Then he stepped in slowly, as if even the slightest noise might make her vanish.

“Do you have any idea how stupid you are?” his voice was low. Sharp. Not cruel- just heavy. Heavy with everything he didn’t know how to say.

She didn’t respond. Barely lifted her face. Her lip was split, one eye swollen and bruised. A deep purple mark ran across her cheekbone. Baekjin moved closer, careful. His hands stayed in his pockets, hiding the fists he was clenching far too tightly. The anger inside him ran hotter than he’d ever let show.

“Did anyone see you come in?” he asked. She shook her head. “I waited until no one was around. Came in through the back.” “Good.” He turned toward the desk, exhaling through his nose. “If someone saw you... it wouldn’t just be your problem.”

She looked up at him, not with desperation, but with that quiet kind of stare that only asks to be left alone. Or maybe understood. Just not with too many words. “I know,” she murmured. “But I didn’t have anywhere else to go. No one should see me like this.”

That hit harder than everything else. Not as the blood, neither as the marks lying on her face. But he didn’t show it. Only the rhythm of his breathing changed, barely noticeable.

Without saying a word, he sat beside her. Not too close. Not too far. He didn’t touch her. Didn’t speak. Because the way he cared about her was always just a little bit wrong. But it was the only way he knew how.

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Didn’t Know, But Never Forgot

Pairing: Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x Reader

Warnings: One night stand, implied smut (fade to black), alcohol, strong emotions, surprise baby, heartbreak, soft reunion

Author's Note: I had read a fanfiction that inspired me to write this, but it was with Simon instead I can’t remember who it was that wrote the fanfiction of someone knows what fanfiction I’m talking about. Please go ahead and tag the person in the comments or find the fanfiction and link in the comments or DM it to me so I can add it on here!

Summary: Soap never expected to see you again after your one-night stand. He definitely didn’t expect to see you holding a baby… that looks just like him.

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The door chimed. Warm air rushed out to meet him as Johnny stepped inside. Soft jazz played over low conversation, the smell of espresso thick in the air. He had no reason to be here—just a random stop on a morning walk during leave.

But fate had a cruel sense of humor.

Because there you were.

By the window, sunlight haloing your face. Your hair was a little longer, your features more mature, more tired—but you were still you.

And in your arms… was a baby.

His heart stalled.

You looked up. Eyes met. Your smile faltered. And the moment cracked like glass.

Flashback – That Night, 10 Months Ago

The bar was dim, noisy, crowded. One of those places with sticky floors, neon signs, and cheap whiskey. Johnny had come out with Gaz and a few others, blowing off steam before deployment.

He hadn’t expected to meet anyone. He’d told himself he wouldn’t.

But then you laughed.

It cut through the noise like a melody—full, free, just drunk enough to be careless. You stood at the far end of the bar, holding a drink with a cherry in it, talking with friends. And when your eyes met his, it wasn’t shy. It was bold. Curious.

He gave a crooked smile. You raised a brow, challenging.

He made the first move.

"Can I buy you another one of those?" he asked, nodding to your glass.

"Only if you promise to tell me what kind of accent that is," you said, smirking.

The conversation flowed like whiskey. You were sharp. Funny. Gorgeous in that magnetic, too-good-to-be-real way. He couldn’t stop looking at your lips. You told him your name—he gave you “Johnny.” Not “Soap.” Not MacTavish. Just Johnny.

Hours blurred.

Laughter in a booth. Sharing fries. Sitting too close. His knee brushed yours—and neither of you moved away.

One drink turned into two.

And suddenly, you were in his lap in the backseat of a cab, fingers tangled in his short hair, your lips tasting like cherry and sin.

Flashback – The Apartment

He remembered your place. Tiny, warm, a little cluttered. You kicked off your shoes and pulled him inside like gravity itself was on your side.

Clothes scattered. Breathless laughter. Kisses that landed too hard.

In your bed, he memorized every inch of your skin like he was afraid it would vanish by morning. It wasn’t just sex. Not with the way you held him afterward—or the way he couldn’t stop brushing your hair back, staring at you like he’d found something he didn’t know he needed.

He’d almost told you.

Almost said, I’m leaving tomorrow. I want to stay. I wish I met you sooner.

But you were asleep.

And before dawn, he slipped out.

A note on your counter: Didn’t want to wake you. You were perfect. — J

Back to Present – The Café

“I didn’t know how to reach you,” you said quietly. “Didn’t know if I should.”

He swallowed. “I would’ve come back if I’d known.”

“I didn’t even find your last name until after she was born,” you said, glancing down at the baby. “Then I found some records. Photos. Your name came up next to Soap. That’s when I figured it out.”

His gut clenched. “Christ…”

“I wasn’t going to track you down and throw a baby in your arms, Johnny. I just wanted to know. For her. For me.”

You looked away then, blinking fast. “You left before I woke up. I thought it was just one night to you.”

“It wasn’t,” he said softly.

You didn’t respond.

Isla—that’s what you called her—babbled gently, nestled in your arms. Johnny looked at her like she was made of glass and gold. All the fear, the guilt, the regret—it swirled inside him, heavy and choking.

“I want to hold her,” he said.

You blinked, surprised. “Are you sure?”

He nodded. “I need to.”

You carefully transferred her into his arms. He held her like she was the first good thing he’d ever touched.

“Hey, wee one,” he whispered, eyes wide. “I’m your da.”

Isla cooed, reaching up and catching a fistful of his hoodie.

He laughed, startled and breathless. “You’ve got a grip on you already, don’t ya?”

You smiled for the first time in the conversation—soft, but real. “She does that when she likes someone.”

“She likes me?” he asked, and even he could hear the wobble in his voice.

You nodded. “She should. You’re her father.”

Johnny swallowed, emotion thick in his throat. “I want to be here now. In her life. In yours. If you’ll let me.”

You looked at him for a long, long time.

“She deserves to know her dad,” you finally whispered. “And… I think you deserve to know her too.”

Johnny reached across the table with one hand, gently resting it over yours.

“I’ve been to hell and back, lass. Thought I’d lost the only good thing I ever stumbled into. But you’re here. And she’s here. I won’t take that for granted.”

You blinked back tears. “Then stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Flashback – One Week Before This Day

Johnny stood in front of your building. He’d been back from deployment for a few days, and the memory of your face wouldn’t leave him alone. He didn’t even know what he was searching for—maybe closure. Maybe hope.

But he hadn’t knocked.

Not yet.

Now, sitting across from you, with his daughter in his arms, he silently promised he’d never hesitate again.

The Park, Later That Day

The three of you sat on a bench under the first blue sky of spring.

Isla giggled as Johnny held her above his head, making silly faces. You watched him, hand wrapped around a coffee cup, heart in your throat.

He looked over at you.

“What?”

“You’re good with her.”

He shrugged with a grin. “She’s brilliant. Gets it from her mum.”

You flushed. “She’s stubborn. Gets that from her dad.”

You sat in silence for a beat.

Then he leaned toward you and whispered, “Do I get a second date? One that doesn’t end in deployment?”

You bit your lip. “Only if you promise to stay for breakfast this time.”

He smiled. And for the first time in months—you smiled too.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[elliespassagerprincess]

Idk if you're taking requests but if so can you write a kinda angsty fanfic where the reader is insecure asf about her looks and is jealous of bestfriend!Ellie because Ellie is so pretty. And as she's gotten older the reader has learned to be less jealous (or just suppressed the feeling) but like one day her jealousy is revealed when her and Ellie are drinking together and like ellie is shocked because she's always found the reader cute. THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME 😋

Drunk Words, Sober Eyes - ellie williams x reader

Hi anon!! this idea sounds so cool!! i went back and forth between giving it a happy ending or a sad one. I wanted to kill off a character honestly. But on this rare occasion, let me write something happy lmao. lmk if you want another version:)

Pairing: ellie x fem!reader

requests are open! send me your silly thoughts

Warning: a little angst

Summary: in which you confessed

materlist

You’d never really hated Ellie.

But sometimes, being next to her felt like standing beside a lit match—close enough to burn, too far to be warm.

She was everything you weren’t. Confident. Effortless. The kind of pretty that people noticed without her trying. When you walked into a room together, you disappeared behind her glow like a shadow behind sunlight.

She didn’t mean to make you feel small.

But she did.

“God, you’re so dramatic,” Ellie laughed, flopping back on the couch with her third drink in hand. “I did not flirt with that guy.”

You rolled your eyes and took a long sip. Your face burned. “He literally tripped over his words when he saw you. I don’t blame him.”

Ellie raised a brow, cheeks flushed. “You’re being weird tonight.”

You forced a smile, eyes on the floor. “Just tired.”

That was a lie. You weren’t tired—you were cracking.

Cracking under years of silent comparison.

Of wondering if she ever looked at you the way you looked at her.

Of trying to be fine with being the best friend.

Three drinks turned into five.

And five drinks turned into the kind of honesty that stung more than alcohol ever could.

You were lying on Ellie’s floor, legs tangled in a blanket, the moonlight filtering through the half-open curtains. She was beside you, laughing at something stupid, lips glossy with whiskey and chapstick.

You watched her laugh and felt it again—that ache.

And this time, it didn’t stay quiet.

“You ever get tired of being... the pretty one?” you slurred, staring at the ceiling.

Ellie blinked. “What?”

You swallowed hard. The words came like a flood.

“I mean, I don’t blame anyone. You’re fucking gorgeous, Ellie. Always have been. It’s just—"

You choked out a laugh, bitter and small. "It’s hard sometimes. Being the... invisible one next to you.”

The room fell dead silent.

You didn’t dare look at her.

Ellie sat up slowly.

“You think you’re invisible?” she said quietly.

You shrugged. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t ask to be… perfect.”

“Jesus, I’m not perfect—”

“But you don’t get it,” you snapped. “You’ve always been the one people see. Even when you’re quiet, they feel you. I’ve spent years trying to be okay with being the second choice. The backup. The ugly friend.”

You buried your face in your hands. “God, I can’t believe I said that out loud.”

Ellie didn’t respond for a long moment.

And then—gently, almost shakily—she said, “You really think I don’t see you?”

You looked up, eyes rimmed with salt.

Ellie was staring at you like she’d never really looked before.

“I’ve had a crush on you since we were seventeen,” she said flatly.

Your heart stopped.

“What?” you breathed.

“I thought I was being subtle. I figured you weren’t into girls, or you just didn’t see me like that, so I never said anything.”

You stared at her, stunned. “Ellie…”

Her voice dropped, softer. “You’ve got this way of... pretending you’re fine even when you're screaming inside. You think no one notices, but I do. I see every flinch. Every forced smile. And I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever known.”

Your eyes welled up again—but this time, not from jealousy.

From shock. From relief. From finally being seen.

The next morning, your head throbbed, but your heart felt light.

Ellie made you coffee. She was quiet, her usual sarcastic wall softened.

“Do you remember what you said?” she asked, gently, sliding you a mug.

“Every word,” you admitted, clutching the cup. “I’ve never felt so stupid.”

She tilted her head. “Why?”

“Because it’s embarrassing to want something you thought you could never have.”

Ellie walked around the table and crouched beside you, hand on your knee.

“You already have it,” she said softly. “You just didn’t know.”

You blinked at her. And then—finally—you let yourself believe it.

It wasn’t all easy after that. You still had bad days. Still saw someone in the mirror who didn’t feel enough.

But Ellie never let you spiral alone.

She kissed your forehead when you hated your body. Held your hand when you felt like disappearing. Told you she loved your laugh, your eyes, your stupid sarcasm.

And every time she did, you started to believe her.

Little by little. Step by step.

Until the mirror didn’t feel so cruel anymore.

Until “pretty” didn’t have to mean her instead of you.

Until you stopped being jealous of Ellie…

And started being in love with her instead.

<3

[ilyprs]

P I S T A N T H R O P H O B I A | s.geum

───𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐮𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛───

pistanthrophobia : the fear of trusting people, forming close romantic relationships, and being vulnerable in interpersonal connections

' in which she can't escape her first love

•seong-je x reader

•part 1. (part 2 is out on my profile !!🩷)

ׂׂૢ་༘______________________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

▶︎•၊၊||၊|။||||။၊|။•✩♬ now playing: moon |[G-IDLE]

"So, how was my performance?"

"Terrible! I feel like my ears are about to burst! Please never sing again."

"Yah! You asshole," Baku shouted before suddenly chasing Gotak around the small karaoke room where the three teenagers were hanging out. The girl sitting on the couch just sighed in annoyance, took another sip of her drink that sat on the glass table surrounded by snacks, and grabbed a handful of popcorn while watching the drama unfold between the two boys. She wasn't worried—it had become a daily routine and was nothing new to her.

"Serim, back me up, just this once!" Baku yelled again while trying to catch the fleeing Gotak who was laughing at him.He struggled because the small room was cluttered with all kinds of stuff, and Gotak was moving quickly and skillfully through the mess.

"Nope. I'm staying out of your nonsense," she said, continuing to shovel popcorn into her mouth with enjoyment and a grin on her face now.

"That's so unfair of you! I always protect you!" Baku said, clearly offended, looking at the girl. He wasn't entirely wrong, but she just shrugged lazily and kept watching the two idiots go at it.

While Baku was looking at Serim, Gotak used the distraction to escape his grip. Once he had created some distance, he looked at the time on his phone.

"Shit, it's already 5:56 PM. We've got 4 minutes to get out of here," he warned his best friends and started making his way to the messy table to throw away the empty snack packages from the karaoke table. Baku also looked away from the girl and began cleaning up. In a rush, the friend group tidied up the room before quickly heading outside.

⸻

"When can you finally come back to school, Hu-Min?" Gotak broke the silence as the three walked toward the next convenience store. The weather was still relatively chilly at night, so Lee Serim hid her face in her fluffy scarf to stay warm. She looked at the mentioned boy with interest—it had been a while since he'd last shown up at school. There was a serious reason why the eldest had been suspended, but the group never liked talking about it, so it remained unspoken between them. Everyone respected each other's boundaries. They all walked at the same pace, enjoying the cold air and the quiet of nature.

"Ah, you'll find out soon enough, trust me!" Baku said with a laugh, leaving the other two confused. Serim rolled her eyes in annoyance at his secrecy.

"Stop being so mysterious and just tell us when you're coming back, you jerk!" she snapped and gave the taller boy a gentle kick in the butt. He suddenly dropped dramatically to one knee and started yelling in mock panic. Lee Serim's eyes widened and she quickly knelt in front of him to look him in the eyes. Gotak could only laugh loudly.

"OMG, cut that crap out before someone actually believes you and comes over here!" she scolded him angrily while Hyeon-Tak watched the scene with amusement. The three had been best friends for years, and Baku's dramatic antics were nothing new. Their friendship had started shortly after Lee Serim had transferred to their school, and from day one it had felt deeper than any bond she'd ever had before with any of her old friends- which weren't many.

Baku burst into laughter when he saw the girl kneeling in front of him. She only rolled her eyes again and gave him a final smack on the head before standing up and offering him her hand. Grinning, he took it, and the three continued their way to the store.

"Did you hear? I heard there's going to be a new student at our school," Serim said, glancing at the two boys beside her. It had become a habit for Serim to always walk between the two—just in case anything happened, they could protect her. She had argued with them often, saying she was more than capable of defending herself. Her father hadn't been a famous MMA fighter for nothing—he had taught her plenty. She trained four times a week at his gym, which the boys now also attended thanks to her. Still, the boys refused to back down and were firmly convinced that she was safest walking between them. Eventually, she gave up arguing and just automatically got in between them.Even if she didn't the boys always switched places so she could be between them.

"Really? I'm curious. What kind of idiot transfers to this psycho school voluntarily?" Gotak asked, laughing.

He wasn't wrong. The school was total trash, and no one in their right mind would go there willingly. Serim hadn't transferred by choice either—it had been due to an incident at her old school. Even though she'd found her best friends there, she still hated the place with a passion. It was full of idiots who did nothing but pick on weaker students to boost their fragile egos.There were many instances where she would get in trouble for sticking up for the weaker students, even getting into multiple physical fights.

"Lee Serim transferred voluntarily," Baku commented with a grin before getting smacked on the back of the head again. He quickly apologized when he saw her angry glare, and they continued walking.

⸻

"Do you guys want anything else?" Serim asked the boys before grabbing the drinks and paying. With a bag of drinks in one hand and a lollipop in the other, she stepped out of the store. When she reached the boys, she held out the bag, and each took their respective drink. Serim popped the lollipop in her mouth, grabbed her sugar-free Red Bull, and handed Baku the bag so he could throw it away. Re-energized, the three continued their walk home—until the girl suddenly turned around in panic.

"Fuck! I forgot my wallet at the store!" she cried and quickly shoved her drink into Gotak's hands.The boys looked at each other and sighed- it wasn't anything new to them, Serim constantly forgot stuff and they always had to remind her.She ran in the opposite direction, lowering her scarf so she could see better.

"Yah, Lee Serim! Should we come with you?" Baku called after her, but she waved him off and kept running. It wasn't far to the store, so she wasn't too worried. When she arrived, she saw a group of teenage boys standing in front of it, and her stomach turned. Of course it couldn't be that easy. No way she could just walk in and grab her wallet without trouble. Internally, she cursed her luck and prayed none of the Union guys recognized her. Keeping her head down, she walked past the group and into the store.

Once inside, she took a deep breath—no one had said anything. But in the next instant, her breath caught again.

No, no, this can't be happening. Not today...

Standing at the register was the reason for her breathlessness. When the bell above the door chimed, he turned slowly to face her, locking eyes. Wordless, Lee Serim stood frozen as a thousand thoughts ran through her mind—but not a single one escaped her lips. All she wanted was to turn around and leave, to walk away and never look back. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she feared it might leap out. His face also changed instantly as he recognized her familiar eyes, and his well-known smirk spread across his lips. His gaze through his glasses was intense and intimidating, but Serim knew better. He was desperately searching for a reaction from her. Any emotion—he'd take whatever she gave. Seconds passed, feeling like hours, before he broke the silence.

"Well, look who it is," he said playfully, his smirk growing wider. Serim was still frozen in place but forced herself to take one step forward. The faster she moved, the sooner she could escape the situation. Without giving him another glance, she approached the register and looked at the cashier, completely ignoring the boy who had stepped closer.

"Excuse me, I think I left my wallet here. Have you seen it by any chance?" she asked, trying to hide the tremble in her voice to deny the boy any satisfaction. The cashier looked at her curiously, but she just gave him an impatient smile. He turned around and began looking.

Meanwhile, Geum Seong-Je reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Serim instantly slapped his hand away and turned to face him closely for the first time in ages.

Seong-Je only grinned stupidly and said, "When are you finally going to give in and talk to me again?" As he tried to reach for her again, the girl grabbed his wrist—this time, not letting go. She stared into his eyes furiously, unable to avoid his intense gaze. There was a time she had loved looking into those eyes—so full of love, comfort, and safety—but that was long gone. Too much had happened between them to forget so easily. His glasses slid slightly down his nose, and she had to restrain herself from pushing them back up like she used to. His expression softened for a moment—they were thinking the same thing. But she quickly dropped his wrist when the cashier returned. Clearing her throat, she looked at him and saw her pink wallet in his hand. She thanked him quickly and ran out of the store as fast as she could. Too many thoughts overwhelmed her—she needed to get out, to leave Seong-Je and all their memories behind.

Lost in thought, she didn't notice bumping into someone until she heard swearing at her feet.

"Ah! You stupid bitch! Are you blind or what?!" a teenage boy yelled angrily, getting up. Serim could feel his rage as his friends began circling around her.

"Watch how you talk to me, you bastard," she replied coldly, trying to push past him—but to no avail. She was getting impatient because the last thing she needed was to spend even more time near that guy who was still inside the store, probably watching her.

The boy shoved her back roughly and called out to his friends:

"Did you hear that? I think this chick needs a good slap to learn some respect." His friends clapped and cheered, supporting their idiot friend. Lee Serim looked at them with nothing but annoyance. Guys like them didn't scare her. She knew most of them were all talk and would run at the first real hit. Silently, she counted them—seven boys, some shorter than her, most looking pretty inexperienced. She could probably take them down, but she wasn't in the mood. She didn't want to dirty her clothes in this weather, and her friends were likely already looking for her. Thinking of them made her curse again—they'd definitely be worried and probably already on their way. She didn't want her friends to run into these jerks—it would only end in another bloody fight.

Still deep in thought, she caught the boy's movement from the corner of her eye as he lunged. She dodged easily, causing him to lose balance, then kicked him in the back, knocking him down. Just as he tried to get up and strike again, a familiar voice interrupted him. Serim's entire body had a physical reaction to his voice and she tried to ignore it.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, asshole?" The voice was unmistakable, and a few of the boys gasped. They knew they had screwed up and would pay for it. Lee Serim looked up toward the kiosk and met his eyes again. This time, they weren't playful—they were furious. Before things could escalate, Serim heard a voice from farther away.

"Yah, Serim! Where are you?" Baku's voice rang out, and she swore under her breath. Fuck! If Baku and Gotak ran into Seong-Je and the Union guys, it would be a disaster. She quickly gathered herself and ran out of the circle, heading for her friends. The boys quickly avoided her and let her get through without even looking at her.

"Don't tell me those were Union assholes," Baku said in a dangerously quiet tone when she reached them. They looked furious, and Serim knew she had to act fast before the evening turned into a bloodbath.

"Yes, but nothing happened—really," she said quickly and panicked, grabbing both their hands and pulling them behind her. They tried to protest, but she didn't stop. Just as they turned the corner, she dared a final glance back—meeting the intense eyes of her first love, who was staring at her with full attention. In front of him, the boy who had attacked her was now kneeling, and she saw Seong-Je holding his hand. The last thing she heard as they turned the corner was the painful scream of the poor boy.