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norikuna · 2 months ago

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BED CHEM— geto suguru minors dni. art by to00fu !

welcome to the christmas tour ! take a seat in section (b) and let the show begin !

prologue. → ditching your friend's christmas condo party for your scrumptious, needy boyfriend? yes please!

want to try sitting somewhere else ? take a look at the ticket chart again !

pairing. geto suguru x afab!reader

warnings+. awful usage of brainrot slang to weird geto out (mission successful), making out, messy sèx, crèampiè, nothing crazy !

word count. 5k! song inspiration. bed chem — sabrina carpenter

a/n. happy 1 month birthday to this blog!!!!!! 😭 kind of fitting that i celebrate with a geto fic <3

mp3. where art thou? why not uponeth me? see it in my mind, let's fulfill the prophecy !

"hey," you say, holding up the dress and crinkling the red satin in your fingers, "what'd you think of this one?"

it's a gorgeous number, a sheer, corset bodice with a daring thigh-high slit, all set to softly drape off your shoulders. the kind of dress that screams 'sexy without trying too hard' and 'television heroine vampire heiress'. your goal in life.

geto doesn't even glance up from his latest obsession, crouched by the kitchen counter. he's eye level with a pavlova, drizzling raspberry glaze over it like he's performing surgery. without missing a beat, "it's cool. for someone desparate in witness protection," he deadpans.

you scoff, clutching the gown like the aforementioned television heroine, "you just say weird shit sometimes. what does that even mean? and a day one hater, didn't even look up..."

"and yet," geto mutters, still hyper-focused on his dessert, "i know i'm right."

you throw the dress onto the couch dramatically, "suguru, you bought this dress for me."

that gets your boyfriend's attention and he looks up, catching the gleam of familiar red satin, and visibly gulps, "oh. my bad. it's, uh, hot you'd look hot, i mean."

"nice save, baby," you arch a brow.

he tosses his inky black hair back, some of it falling right back into his face, "what's it for?"

you sigh, propping your legs up on the worn couch, "that big party, remember? my friend who got married and had a kid last year, y'know her right?"

geto hums, popping a fresh blueberry into his mouth, without taking his eyes off the pavlova, "mmph," he says through a mouthful, "the one who married the guy who cheated on her like thrice?"

you grin, delighted he remembers the gossip you've spoon fed to him over time, "yeah, well, apparently he tried making it up to her by buying her an entire condo."

geto wrinkles his nose in disgust, "tacky. ya' just can't buy class."

"totally," you sigh, "but it's so nice in there. and when she hosts parties there, i can't really complain. it's like, so gorgeous."

then, you glance back at your focused boyfriend, watching as he artfully arranges more berries atop the meringue, "mhm, speaking of gorgeous, are you gonna stand there making love to the pavlova all night, or are you gonna help me accessorise this thing?"

geto glances at you, his violet eyes narrowing playfully, "why so needy? jealous of whipped egg whites and sugar?"

you flop your arms to your sides with a dramatic sigh, "what if i am?"

geto exhales as though you are his most tiresome, and favourite thing in the entire world. grabbing a silver spoon from the cutlery rack, and dipping it into the sticky-sweet raspberry glaze. he's striding towards you, and there's that signature air of both exasperation and amusement, "open."

you comply, simply because dessert trumps dignity, and not before biting down on the spoon with unnecessary force just to mess with him. the glaze simply melts on your tongue, and you smack your lips, "mmm. wait, this shit's really good. what's it for?"

geto laughs, stepping closer to swipe his warm thumb across your bottom lip to catch a stray bit of glaze, "for us, jus' us. thought we'd have something sweet for christmas."

you clutch your chest like a damsel, "i thought i was your sweet thing for christmas."

your dear boyfriend rolls his eyes, swatting your arm lightly with the sticky spoon, leaving a smear of glaze, "tch, what am i gonna do with you?"

you gasp in mock outrage at the sensation, but geto's expression shifts, softening as he swings a knee up onto the arm of the couch, "wan' me to come with ya?"

you blink, thrown off from his hauntingly beautiful features that you'll never get tired of, "come with me where?"

"that party, love."

your jaw practically hits the floor, "wait, really? you actually want to? thought you hated these things?"

geto's lips quirk upwards, shrugging a shoulder, "the things i do for my pretty girlfriend."

cue the squeal. exaggerated just enough to irritate him, just a bit. you clutch his arm, bouncing slightly, "aw! you really do love me!"

geto's exasperated look cracks, softening into something far more quiet and fond. he places a hand on your head, ruffling through your hair just enough to make you scowl at the mess, "don't push your luck," he warns. but his tone betrays his amusement, "i just feel bad i haven't gone to any of the others with you."

"i'm glad you said that, though, suguru," you start, already scheming as you lean forward and rest your head on his knee like its the most natural pillow in the world. he lets out a soft puff of breath, almost instinctively leaning down to press a kiss to your temple.

"remember those high-waisted pants i said would look really good on you?"

geto frowns, "the ones you said made me look like a...and i quote, a slutty mushroom?"

"bingo. you should wear them. the world deserves to see your delicious gyatt —"

your baiting words are accentuated by a pinch to the back of his dark sweatpants but cut off by his sharp exhale, and the way his fingers, which had been lazily tracing the curve of your ear, freeze mid-motion.

"my what, love?" geto asks, his tone a mix of suspicious and the kind of dread reserved for people who know they're about to regret asking a question.

"gyatt," you repeat, completely unrepentant, no shame nor misery, "it means —"

"i know what it means," geto cuts in, deadpan with a faint and tell-tale blush creeping onto his tan skin, "i'm cutting off our wifi. all our electricity actually."

you laugh, patting his muscular thigh lightly before squeezing it again for good measure, "oh, so you do know what it means. that's embarrassing for you, babe."

"and yet, somehow, i still have the moral high ground," geto grouches, pinching the bridge of his nose, "and you say that i say weird shit. now you're bringing gojo's tiktok fuckery into my own home."

"first of all, it's our home," grabbing the red dress and standing, almost knocking him off the couch's arm, "second of all, my big and tall and beautiful boyfriend is such a cutie patootie when he's embarrassed."

geto groans, tilting his head back, "stop. you're emasculating me."

you pause in the doorway, "you cry everytime we watch strawberry shortcake. you do that shit to yourself."

"that was one time!" geto protests, but you can hear the smile colouring his voice.

"two times."

"the mermaid episode was emotionally poignant. power of friendship and moral honesty despite the promise of treasure," he calls after you, "you wouldn't get the timeless themes!"

well, mission accomplished. the dress fits you like a second skin, hugging all the right places. and you're not even ashamed of how long you spend admiring yourself in the mirror. the way the corset lifts your chest, well, it's definitely giving hot and sexy vampire now.

you delicately pat a glitter bomb compact over your skin, letting the soft shimmer catch the light on your collarbones and shoulders. it's a fine balance, you think, but you know there's a fine line between 'faintly glittered-up' and looking like 'fenty beauty just projectile-vomited rosé rave' all over you.

"suguru!" you call out, expecting a snarky reply but hearing nothing. typical. "suguru!" you yell again, just because you can. you wander out of the bedroom, only to find him already in position: stretched across the couch, legs draped lazily over the armrest.

and fuck, he looks good. wearing those wide-legged pants you suggested, and obviously, you were right about them. a crisp white top with the sleeves rolled up just enough to show off his forearms. geto's hair is pulled back into that high, slightly messy knot he's so fond of, but a rogue and choppy strand has escaped, brushing against his cheek.

the whole look screams 'effortlessly hot' and you can imagine how smug he'd be if he knew what you were thinking.

"oh. hey, love," he greets casually, scrolling through his phone and still draped over the couch like a catalog model who knows all his angles. but then geto looks up, and the phone nearly slips out of his hand.

"uhhh, hey," he says, his eyes widening as he takes you in, and his rosewood lips part, as he says it again, clearly dumbfounded, "hey."

you laugh, crouching down next to him, amused by the way he's visibly short-circuiting, "not bad yourself," you tease, "what were you looking at?"

before he can stop you, you lean in to peak at geto's phone, pressing yourself against his side. glitter from your collarbones transfers onto his skin, but you're too busy laughing at his dimly lit screen to notice.

"suguru!" you gasp, your shoulders beginning to tremor, "fuckass yahoo answers, of all places. wait — i can't believe people still use that. stop moving your phone, let me read!"

is it good or bad if my girlfriend says i have a gyatt?

geto's ears turn deliciously red, and he locks his phone with an exaggerated click, "okay. nosy mcgee," and he's grumbling, "makin' me sound like a loser."

you pat his cheek lightly, grinning like a cheshire cat, "it means i think you're scrumptious," you say with mock seriousness, "like top-tier snackish. like, as in, i like your ass."

geto huffs, his lips twitching despite himself. and then, leaning forward, he presses a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. you wrinkle it instinctively, thinking of all the concealer and powder you had layered earlier.

"well," he says, as he brushes a strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear, "i think you're pretty too."

you sigh dramatically, "just pretty? why did i end up with a nonchalant man?"

geto gasps, his mauve eyes widening in mock offence as he juts his lip forward, "hah, 'scuse me. i'm not nonchalant. i'm like the total opposite of nonchalant. i'm like...chalant."

you snort, catching his stray fingers as they linger close enough to your lips for you to playfully nip at them, "yes. you are. my very chalant boyfriend. what a hero."

geto rolls over to his side, so he's facing you. absolutely wrinkling his white shirt, "thank you for recognising my efforts."

but then his tone shifts, his gaze running over you, "but seriously, you look hot. like crazy hot. like wow, my girlfriend is insanely hot," and he leans in slightly, "and i jus' can't stop looking at your two, beautiful, perfect..."

it hits you that his gaze has dropped to the swell of your chest.

"suguru! my eyes are up here, you dog."

"shit, been caught." and he's still laughing at your grumbles, grabbing your wrist and gently pulling you up in one swift motion, dragging you alongside him towards the bedroom.

"hey!" you protest half-heartedly, trying to dig your heels into the carpet, "the front door's the other way, genius. we're gon' be late."

geto doesn't stop his stride, glancing back at you with a pleading look that's also smug at the same time, "yeah, but you're the one who looks like that. don't think i can function. i need a minute."

"geto suguru, everybody. one-minute wonder. all he needs to finish."

you hear your boyfriend's scoff, as a teasing laugh escapes him, "hah, can't help being like this, can ya? got a gold medal when it comes to pissing me off."

you smile sweetly, "it's because i love you."

geto rolls his rich-plum eyes, his hand guiding you towards the bed as he shakes his head, "you know i love you too, right?"

"duh."

"good," geto says, and with that, he's leaning in. pressing a hot kiss to your jaw, then moving to your waiting mouth. it's messy, sloppy, the kind that makes your pussy clench a bit. sue you, eh? it's just the effect that geto suguru has on you.

you let out a soft whine as his tongue smears across your satin-finished, ruby lips, perfectly lined not ten minutes ago. but then geto's pulling away, circling his finger lazily in the air. a wordless demand that leaves your thighs clenching in anticipation.

you playfully huff, but spin yourself away from him. planting yourself on all fours, hearing geto grunt as he seems to appreciate the view. tsk, your predictable, eager boyfriend.

his large hand is running slowly down your spine, like he's savouring the way the satin clings to you. it's sending shivers down your body, and you're certain that if geto were to push your dress up and cup your core with a large hand, he'd pull it away wet and dripping.

"ah, pretty. so pretty, aren'tcha?" and his fingers are tugging taut at the ruched dress, like he can't quite believe you're real and his. despite three smooth years of professing your love to one another.

"suguru," you protest, "y'know 's not a cheap dress, babe."

you can hear the amusement tinging his smooth voice, "i know. i bought it, remember? don't want you worryin' your pretty lil' head over it."

you let out a soft sigh as you feel him entirely lean his weight over you, enveloping you in that heady scent of leather and cardamom. scooting your ass back, so tight satin would faintly drag across his very pronounced erection.

"f-fuck," and geto's laugh is sharp, disbelieving. half a huff, and half a chuckle, but entirely in awe. broad, warm hands are gliding over you before the gentle press of his palms come to rest on your hips. he's sliding your dress up, letting satin rustle with a soft, whispering sound. leaving your skin exposed to the sudden and sharp kiss of the christmas air.

"wow," geto whistles quietly, appreciatively. he seemed to be enjoying the sheer red thigh-high tights that clung to the plush of your thighs like a second scarlet skin, and you gasp as he hooks a long finger underneath the lace border, snapping it once briefly in a mild sting.

his hands are so close to where you need them most, and it's so utterly infuriating. he's practically dancing his finger tips over your inner thighs, ghosting so close to your underwear. panties that were surely languid, weighty by now. you could feel the damp cotton growing far more slippery and tacky as geto suddenly ran a finger over your clothed cunt.

and you can hear the elation in his voice as he lifts a finger up to his mouth, swirling his tongue around your syrupy taste, "hah, you're practically a super-soaker. that's pretty cool."

you scowl, fighting the urge to swivel around and pounce him in retribution, "y-yeah, thanks," but the bite in your words is tempered by the lazy heat that coils in your stomach, "but you're taking too l-long, baby. can't you jus' -"

and you're deciding to take matters into your own hands, as geto seems fascinated by how thin, clear strands create small bridges between his fingers. you reach for the waistband of his high-waisted pants, running your own hand down his absurdly slender waist, right over a godly chiselled torso.

"y'got impatient, didn't you, love?" and now geto's scowling, hauling your wrist back to pin it behind your back like you foretold. but not before planting a soft press of lips to your inner arm, gentle and tender.

but you flex your fingers behind your back, stretching them out, groping at the air. your boyfriend must have noticed, almost immediately because of course he does, and you can hear a soft, knowing coo from behind you.

"ah, 's what you want, right?" he teases, sliding his cool, slender fingers over yours, intertwining them effortlessly, "just wanted me holdin' your hand, how cute."

"maybe i was j-just stretching," you huff, but squeezing his hand tighter.

geto hums, unconvinced, as his thumb brushes lazily over the back of your hand, and you can hear the sound of fabric rustling behind you, "sure. totally not begging me to hold your hand like some lovesick, little dove."

but any retort falls away from your tongue, right when you feel something heavy, and hot smack against your tailbone, leaving a faint, moist kiss that feels cold when it patters off, "now pay attention."

you muffle a small, desparate whine, as geto has one hand tangled with yours and the other being used to hold and smack his thick cock once more over the base of your spine, "hope s-she's ready f' me now."

you feel as though all the air has been utterly pushed out of you, just from geto practically splitting you in two. you don't even have to look at geto to know that he's absolutely wrecked already, just from the throbbing, curved tip of his cock pushing past your tight walls, snagging with only the mildest resistance.

you can almost see it in your mind's eye, picturing it all just from his low curses and gasp.

how his chin must have tucked low enough to kiss his sternum, feathery strands of hair spilling over his forehead. those inky lashes fluttering in disbelief and surrender over hazy mauve eyes.

"s-she's always so eager to take me," geto croons, and his eyes are practically glued to the way your puffy folds bulge and drool over his shaft slowly feeding inches into you, "almost there, love."

"look at, hah, t-that," your boyfriend drawls, but you can hear how entirely undone he is, that tremour cutting off the end of his words in a sharp gasp as you arch yourself into him, letting that stretch take you so deliciously.

"keep your back arched like that, love," geto murmurs, and his hands are guiding you, pulling your hips back in a gentle, rhythmic push-and-pull over his cock. leaving you to feel his girthy shaft rummage and jostle around your insides, leaving a hefty divot at the edge of your cervix in a way that has you suddenly keening out a faint moan, "doing s-so well for me."

and fuck, the sound of his groin smacking wet kisses against your ass has you feeling like your head was going to explode, and your heart was going to give out, pressing right up into your throats. but you can tell geto is pleased, ruined even as he slowly drags his cock out of you at a filthy, slow pace.

if only to make you feel every throbbing vein on him, and how it imprints on your gummy walls.

there's something just so right about him being in you like this, having his pretty love bent over and absolutely stuffed full of his cock, something that just makes sense.

and right now, nothing else in the world matters save for you, and geto can't bring himself to even care about deadlines, or a decent and sensible christmas dinner, or some stupid party. not when he's letting his weighty, drooling tip loll out of your folds.

thick and heavy like a heated rod in the cool air of the evening, as he pushes two long fingers to spread open your syrupy folds, running the angry-red tip over your gloss, before finally pushing himself back inside.

"i w-was gonna say it was this dress, love," geto stammers, swirling his hips around, trying to rustle right into you, "but i think it's just you. ya know w-what you do to me right, hah, don'tcha, pretty?"

oh you are more than aware. and that heightened sense of perception is only exacerbated by how the thick curve of his cock is bruising into you. slamming into you with a heavy smack!

geto's world tilts, leaving him teetering on the edge of an embarrassingly early orgasm. but he feels little shame, not when his head is so heavy and his lips sting, caught under the desparate press of his teeth. every shallow breath he takes feeling like it's just unravelling him further, circling the tips of his fingers over your clit, just so you can whine and arch yourself into him more.

geto decides to play that card more, wrapping a thick arm around you to pull you into the air slightly. that faint increase in angle making you buckle as his weeping tip pulls symphonies of thick, angry squelches from your sensitive cunt. each jostle of his sharp, staccato hips feeling more and more shaky.

"not too much, r-right?" geto's breath hitching in uneven bursts, caught somewhere between delirious laughter and incredulous, overstimulated sobs.

that sweet, and unsteady wheeze results in tears pricking at geto's eyes from the delicious heat of your pussy, falling over the feverish nape of your neck, "know you wanted to go o-out, wanted to wear this pretty dress but i think 'm gonna d-die if i stop now, 's okay with you, yeah?"

"not t-too much, suguru," you hiss, feeling crystalline tears pool in your own lashes, just from pure please, "f-fuck, 'm already so close."

and you truly are, he's drilling himself into you at a beastly place, jostling a large hand over your chest, brushing over the lace lining the corset bodice, as if he's desparate to get his hands into your dress, to brush his thumbs over sensitive nipples.

his cock leaving searing trails of precum against your drooling, fluttering walls, leaving behind a wet trail that almost burned you. the force of his crashing hips leaving stamps in their wake, and geto's gasping and groaning at the faint cling of your dewy pussy, snatching him in quick, forceful bursts.

you shuffle precariously, still jostled against him, as you push down the bodice of your dress. probably damaging the framework a bit, but it's so worth it to hear geto almost sigh in relief, letting his hands run over the fat of your tits. pinching, swirling his fingers over the soft skin.

geto thinks he might just collapse over you in a weak heap when he hears your whine, "wan' more, s-suguru."

yes, more. that's exactly what geto wants to give you. he wants to see you milk him dry from the heavy balls swinging against your skin, wants to see you heave breaths of air as his seed drips out of you. wants to have you pressed against him for hours on end, to flip you over so your ankle lock behind his neck.

his imagination must have been working overtime. for like the peak specimen of male virility that he is, geto suguru just ends up cumming instead.

and with an embarrassing, heady grunt from him, geto's pulling his pulsating cock out of your folds, doing his best to keep himself steady enough to use his other hand well.

to keep running his fingers in tight circles around your clit, while he lets his spurting cock pump load after load of translucent, white fluid paint your spine a pretty pearly sheen. coming right on you.

it's so messy, it's so filthy and geto feels mildly numb as he decides to push his still throbbing cock, one that is still spurting right back into you, as he pushes his weight onto you, taking care not to force you too harshly against the crumpled sheets.

and geto just can't help himself, can't stop himself from leaving sloppy, wet kisses to the back of your neck, to your cheek. can't help himself from tilting your face back so his mouth can meet yours, and he can taste that raspberry syrup from earlier on your tongue, sweet and tangy.

and geto doesn't even care that he sounds ruined, raw and brittle. absolutely tattered as he whines, "we d-don't have to go to that party, right? hnngh, jus' need to hear you say that we don't have to, i think 'm gonna need some more of her. milking me so w-well."

he doesn't hear much apart from your gasps, your short cries like a mantra of "ah, ah! suguru!"

you weren't even sure how much time had passed, an hour even. or more. and you vaguely wondered if your friends were still there. sitting at some christmas party in some luxury condo, whispering over flutes of champagne, wondering about where you were. unaware that your adonis-esque boyfriend had been pounding himself into you, stretching you out over his cock until you were seeing heavenly stars.

until you were feeling thick ropes of white paint your insides once more, and streaks of dark dimmed your vision, and mauve and violet flashed behind your eyes.

you're tugging at the hem of your dress, still laughing fondly as you watch geto. his tousled, choppy hair falling out of its knot, and his eyes half-lidded and blissed out. his crumpled white top clings to his lean frame, and he's propped up lazily against the headboard with his other thick arm slung back behind his head.

"give me another hour, and we can do it again, love," geto huffs, his voice still a little raspy from earlier.

you shake your head in amusement, despite the mildly uncomfortable feeling of slick sticking beneath your thighs, splattered over your beautiful dress, "mhm, what a nice way to spend christmas, huh?"

geto stares at you adoringly, and his eyes are heavy with contentment, like he can't quite believe that you're here, and for a second, you think maybe the world would stop right there, in this perfect moment.

he runs a thumb over your face, pressing down on your lower lip, "i think it's better than some party," and geto's tone is dreamy, lazy, "no offence to your friend."

you snicker, thinking about whether you're going to need some well-thought excuse for your dear friend. or whether you're going to spill the whole truth for her.

but just as you're about to pull geto's plush mouth into another lazy kiss, his brow furrows. a sudden, concerned shift in his expression.

"hey," your boyfriend mutters, reaching to find his phone, "what's the humidity like tonight?"

you blink, caught off guard, "humidity? what's it matter?"

well, your skin feels unusually sticky, like the air itself is clinging to your sweat-dampened skin. despite the cool air of the december night. and there's that sweet, pleasant tiredness settling into your bones.

geto's suddenly sitting up, his eyes wide with realisation, "wait, love. fuck," he's muttering, scrambling up to his feet, "the kitchen!"

before you can process what's happening, he's racing for the door, and you stare at the empty spot on the rumpled sheets where your broad boyfriend was sitting not ten seconds ago.

"what is wrong with that man?" you murmur, but you hear a panicked cry from the kitchen, something about that damned pavlova going limp and soft with the heating on.

you bite back a small comment about something else going limp and soft, deciding to save that one for later when he's back in bed.

#geto suguru #geto x reader #geto smut #geto suguru smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto #suguru geto smut #suguru geto x reader #geto x you #works #daphworks

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wttcsms · 3 months ago

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⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ keep it on the low !!

ᝰ.ᐟ if there's one thing every celebrity needs to master, it's the art of the soft launch. building up the anticipation by teasing your fans, leaving little easter eggs that only the two of you could possibly pick up on, playing coy whenever questioned about your relationship status... looks like you and him could write the how-to guide on this art form. alternatively: a headcanon post on how the two of you soft launch your relationship. ( sfw + fem!reader )

features osamu miya, kiyoomi sakusa, wakatoshi ushijima, tobio kageyama, tooru oikawa author's notes blue lock version!

౨ৎ OSAMU MIYA. you are: a famous influencer notorious for being bad at cooking. you could burn water at this point. it's okay, though, because at least your makeup tutorials and your day-in-the-life vlogs are always entertaining and fun. you always joke that you feel bad for your future husband, convinced that a life of takeout and restaurants is the only sustenance your future family is going to know. you posted: a tiktok of a man cooking in a kitchen that isn't the familiar one your fans have seen from your vlogs. he's wearing a black apron, a black t-shirt that hugs his biceps, and the veins in his forearms pop out as he quickly dices the vegetables on the cutting board. you don't show his face, but you do caption the video when he tells me it's okay i can't cook <3. suspiciously enough, the owner of onigiri miya has his own tiktok page where he posts cooking videos, and his kitchen looks exactly like the one you're recording in. matter of fact... osamu miya always wears that plain apron, too...

"thank you for the meal!" your feet don't hit the ground when you're sitting on this stool, and you're literally kicking your feet as you stare down gleefully at the plate of food he's prepared for you. the meal is great, and for dessert, you decide to read the flood of comments tagging miyaosamuofficial on your latest video. you won't confirm or deny, but when osamu convinces you to stay the night, you know that you'll be more than happy to share a when he cooks you breakfast <3 video next.

౨ৎ KIYOOMI SAKUSA. you are: a cheeky pop princess. with your promiscuous persona, your flirty songs laced with sexual jokes, and your minidresses that you flounce around in while on stage, you're the girlie that has parents gasping when they take their daughters to one of your shows. while there's been speculation that you're already in a relationship, since clearly there has to be someone inspiring all these ovulation songs, you've never confirmed anything. you performed: a special dance routine at your latest concert. while you normally wear extremely bright colored bodysuits or pastel babydolls, tonight you're dressed in a sparkly black and gold getup. all your male dancers are wearing fitted black shirts with three golden scratches down the back, and you make a show of grinding against one of the dancers, running your nails against his back. you're staring into the crowd, smiling cheekily. that same night, grainy footage is captured of kiyoomi sakusa standing in the crowd, watching the whole show. the mask he's wearing covers his facial expression, but he barely blinks throughout the entire show, as if he doesn't want to miss anything.

"and there's a special guest here tonight." your chest is rising and falling from how out of breath you are after an hour and a half of nonstop singing and dancing. this is your ending speech for the concert, and the crowd is going insane. "i really hope he enjoyed tonight's show as much as i know all of you did. the love songs... they all are about him." the screams from your fans are deafening, and kiyoomi's glad that his mask covers the blush that creeps on his face as he hears your confession.

౨ৎ WAKATOSHI USHIJIMA. you are: literally ushijima's wife. you're a fairly private person to begin with, and it's not like you two have been married for long. you've been engaged for nearly a year, and you do attend most of his games, but ushijima specifically requests that the suite you watch him from doesn't get filmed. he wants to protect your privacy as much as possible, until you're okay with being shown to the public. he posted: a picture of you smiling on christmas day as you open up a gift from your husband. the boulder on your finger can be seen from a mile away, and as dorky as ever, ushi captions the photo with a happy wife happy life 👍🏻

"what does this mean?" ushijima shows you his phone screen, and you squint at it before laughing. one of the tweets tagging ushi reads leave it to ushijimawakatoshi to fucking hard launch his wife one random xmas morning. "it means you posted about our relationship out of the blue. usually people soft launch before they confirm anything." "soft launch?" his eyebrows furrow adorably as he tries to piece together what you just told him. "like, if you were to soft launch us, you would post a picture that maybe doesn't show my face but people might infer that you're in a relationship based off the photo you took." "that's dumb." he says, in his familiar ushijima cadence that had you falling for him. "i'd never take a photo of you without showing your face. why would i want to hide you?"

౨ৎ TOBIO KAGEYAMA. you are: japan's favorite nepo-baby model. with a face card like yours (and connections from your parents), it's no wonder why you're gracing every billboard in the city, and you're the spokesperson of a premier skincare brand. your fame gets you international publicity, and you're selected for the latest skims campaign. with an entire country in love with you, it might be a hard pill to swallow for your intense fanboys when they find out you're in love with japan's best setter. he posted: so many reposts of your campaigns. tobio still wants to support you, even if he knows that you two can't go public with your relationship just yet. he's actually branded (and sometimes mocked) as one of your biggest fanboys, and it doesn't help that during your skims campaign, he reposted every single ad featuring you.

"tobio, baby, you're so sweet, but you don't have to repost every ad." you tell your boyfriend, watching as clicks repost to yet another one of your photoshoots. "but i want to." he says. you kiss his cheek happily. "and that's exactly why i stayed back and did some extra photos on the skims set, just for you. these are pictures you might not want to repost, though." tobio isn't sure whether his eyes should stay glued to the personal photoshoot you did just for him, or to the real life you who's ready to show him what the set looks like in person.

౨ৎ TOORU OIKAWA. you are: currently visiting your beloved boyfriend in argentina. people know that you two are together, even though neither of you have confirmed it explicitly. it's pretty obvious, though, considering you're constantly seen with him, and he talks about how lucky he is that his girl is his number one supporter. someone posted: a viral video of a toned man wearing aqua blue swim shorts taking pictures of a beautiful girl laying down on a beach towel. not only are the two of you so hot that you look fresh out of a perfume ad, but to have a boyfriend so devoted to getting your best angles? iconic, truly. fans don't even realize that it's you and oikawa until someone points it out.

"tooru, are you taking multiple photos or just one?" you try not to move your lips too much when you speak, uncertain of when he's going to snap a pic. "you trained me well." tooru whines. "obviously, i'm taking several at once." "and make sure the lighting is good!" you remind him. "it doesn't matter how i take the photos, baby. you're still going to look good in them, regardless." "aw... are you sweet talking me because some of the pictures are blurry?" when your boyfriend starts showering you with more compliments, you know the pics are definitely not going to be instagram-worthy. he's lucky he's so cute.

#osamu miya x reader #kiyoomi sakusa x reader #wakatoshi ushijima x reader #tobio kageyama x reader #tooru oikawa x reader #osamu x reader #sakusa x reader #ushijima x reader #kageyama x reader #oikawa x reader #hq x reader #hq headcanons #haikyuu x reader #fluff #drabble #hq imagines #hq scenarios

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missdynamighttt · 2 months ago

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ITS STUCK IN MY HEADHAHDHAHDA

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ i think we all collectively agree on katsuki taking music lessons as a kid. we see him do the drums but im SURE he plays other instruments too (like the guitar, in the official art where hes wearing a red jacket with a black polo?)

justjusjutsjutjdut hear me out.

BF! KATSUKI PLAYING THIS??? FOR US???? (credits to leonnsash please go follow him)

"no," katsuki scowled at you. "i'm not a damn performing monkey you can just order around."

"c'mon, please!" you hold onto his arm, shaking it. "you sound so good when you play."

"no."

"i'll do anything! i'll cook!"

"no. you'll just burn the kitchen down."

"that was one time! i'll do the laundry! for a whole month!"

"no. you'll just turn my damn socks pink again."

"again, one time! i'll give you cuddles!"

"no, sweets. you already do that."

you glare at him, huffing.

"what, want me to give you my first born?"

katsuki raises an eyebrow at you, a small smile creeping on to his face. obviously he wouldn't be opposed to it, but-

"no."

katsuki shrugs with a shit-eating grin on his face.

"your loss."

you exhale out of frustration, looking at him with a narrowed gaze, pouting at him.

an idea pops into your head, smiling up at him.

"i mean, if you don't want to play it because you think its so hard, i won't push you..."

katsuki twitches an eye, glaring at you. he stood up, walking slowly to face you from across the couch.

without a word, he grabs your chin with his palm and leans closer towards you, giving you a mindblowing kiss.

when he pulls away, his glare still remained.

"... let me get the damn guitar."

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

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luvwestwood · 10 months ago

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❝ SAVE A COW, MILK THE ...!? ❞ - Choso Kamo

— (18+) .. SEEMS LIKE THE LOCAL MILKMAN HAS A DIFFERENT TYPE OF MILK IN STORE FOR YOU.

ᯓ★ warnings. (18+), milkman! choso, msub to mdom, overstimulation, titty jobs, p in v, resolved sexual tension, oral (m rec), squirting, slow burn, praising, slight? creampie, suggestive language and actions

ᯓ★ notes. I made choso soo whiny in this I fear.. please beware, there is a LOT of irony in this LMAOO.. plus I need him real bad I think u can tell, anyways hope u all enjoy, this was my 1.4k gift <3

4,862 words (17m read)

please check out and support the actual artists piece on twt!/ig, - @/iamdebruh! + art (center of heading) is by @/yunonoai on twt.

Eggs, sugar, heavy cream, flour, vanilla extract and.. and..?

You analyse the countertop carefully, eyes flickering over each ingredient you had pulled out of the grocery bags less than a minute ago.

"Let's try this again.." Sticking a finger out, you point at the produce one by one, performing a routine of a silly head-count. "Okay- eggs, sugar, heavy cream, flour, vanilla extract and…" Your index finger lands on an empty space that was yet to be filled, and finally, it registers into that brain of yours.

"Oh, how could I possibly forget the milk?!" You cry out in pure distraught, scanning the other countertops in hopes of accidentally misplacing it somewhere instead. Pretty useless though, as no sudden miracle was to be found anywhere.

Groaning, you bury your face into the palm of your hands— mentally cursing at yourself for forgetting one of the vital ingredients for the cream pie, how could you?

Hissing as you pace around the kitchen, you open the fridge with brutal force, head close enough to imploding as you rummage inside for a drop of milk to be found.

"There's no way I'm making a second trip. Not with these gas prices." You whisper to yourself, drawing your head back from being stuck deep inside the fridge, using the curve of your ass shut the doors.

Nibbling on your fingernails, you take one more glance at the ingredients on the counter; contemplating whether you should head back, give up fully and try another day, or….

ding dong!

Hand on hip, your head darts to one side, towards the sound of the doorbell. Who could it be?

Dragging your feet to the front door, you reach over by your side to the console table; digging your hands into the glass bowl for your keys.

Another knock sounds from the door, a deep voice speaking from behind it. “..Delivery!”

As you fiddled with the lock, you glanced over to the clock on the wall; reading exactly half past four in the afternoon. You weren't expecting anyone, really. You usually kept to yourself on Fridays, just to relax from a week’s worth of busy work.

Taking a swift look into the peephole, you could only see the glass covered with white— it seems that whoever is outside is clearly blocking the view.

The door opens widely, revealing a familiar figure you tend to see a few times each week— the milkman. You take note of the few beads of sweat glistening on his forehead, unable to be hidden by his cap. Did he.. run here?

Dark brown hair, tickling the top of his shoulders; cap embellished with "Milkman" just before the brim. Covered in white, bar his black pants. You recall that he goes by the name Choso, a piece of valuable information you managed to pull out of him during an interaction only a few weeks ago.

You must admit, your milkman was quite decent looking for someone with a position like his, and the cute bow tie encircled around his neck depicted him to look sweet and dandy. Wait, there's no way I'm swooning over my local milkman right now.

"Oh, Choso- How could I forget?!" You chirp, seems as if he came at the most ideal time you could possibly think of. "What a coincidence, just in time for my cream pie!"

His biceps scream against the fabric of his short-sleeves, begging to be let out as he tightens his grip around the neck of the glass bottle. "I-in time for your what?" Ears painted with a tinge of red, he looks shocked, more on the flustered side.

Letting out an anxious giggle, you point back behind you with the use of your thumb. "Sorry- I meant I was just about to bake a cream pie right now, and I realised I forgot the milk." Looking over your shoulder, then back at him, he smiles back; clearly flustered over the misunderstanding.

"R-right, I apologise, it's been a really long day.." He hands over the bottle, slightly crouching down to pick up his carrier that rested at his feet. "You're actually my last delivery today, they let me off early cause of the work I've done this week."

Holding the door open with your foot, you carefully place the jug on the same console table behind you, smiling to yourself as he went on a tangent about all the things he had accomplished this week— as if he was expressing genuine content rather than boasting.

"Well someone has been a good boy this week, huh?" You innocently beam at him, Choso's knuckles growing white as he clenched the carriers handle. He seems appreciative of the comment, but looks as if he wasn't used to receiving any.

"..Yeah.." Diverting his gaze away from you, he decides to stare down at the top of his shoes, until something you say has his eyes darting back up at you in a split second. The air so thick with tension, the two of you suddenly stay silent.

Humming before you speak your words, you ponder and wonder if your offer was a bit out of line. "..Would you like to come in for a bit? I could really use some help in the kitchen," Not hearing an immediate response from him, you add on, "You could have some of my cream pie afterwards. It would be a workout going down all those steps again, I assume!"

Choso reaches a free hand behind his head, scratching at his nape in contemplation. He knew that you were referring to the endless flights of stairs that were nothing but a nuisance to him as he tried to get to your apartment.

The fact that you had been the only customer in this entire apartment block, didn't have any effect on him though— as it was you he was looking forward to see each time he's out on the job.

Each time he dropped the same jug of milk at yours, only meant that his low lying interest in you would continuously grow, to the point that he couldn't think of anything else, but you. The man was whipped.

He wanted to get to know you better, but couldn't muster up the courage. He felt as if there never an appropriate time to do so, and the fact he landed a job as milkman, the guy assumed that you thought of him very little.

“I.. don’t know if I should..” He mumbles, anxiety and hesitation written all over his face— so easily read.

You roll your eyes, now leaning a shoulder against the doorframe, Choso slightly taking a step back to refrain from crossing a certain line with you so up close. “Come on, it’s not like I’ll get back to your boss with this!”

Crashing at yours for a bit meant that he'd finally have the opportunity to spend some time with you. Little steps, am I right? He couldn't miss out on something like this. Only a fool would do so.

"..I-I'd love to help you with your cream pie." He blurts out, lips parted due to solely being mesmerised. The two of you gawk at each other for longer than intended, but it doesn’t allow things to turn awkward. Was it the choice of words? The tone? What was it, really?

You blankly stare at him for a second longer than he did, nodding in approval. You had very little hope in him actually saying yes. "..Alright, come in." Beckoning at Choso, you step aside, noticing how he hesitates for a moment, just before he enters at his own will.

You watch as he walks further into the apartment, stopping considerably at a point just to not go out of bounds.

Your own eyes trail down his back, surprisingly so broad, that was now facing you. Having to peel your gaze away, you safely lock the door, dropping the key back into the dish beside you.

Grabbing at the jug, you make your way past Choso; taking yet another glance behind your shoulder for reassurance, just to see him trailing behind you like an obedient puppy.

"Make yourself feel at home, don't be shy!" You remarked, stepping around the kitchen island as you gathered the ingredients back onto the counters; Choso stopping just by the stools in front of you. He seemed all quiet and timid, even doing a double take before he decides to place his carrier on a stool beside him.

He sets aside his cap, politely tucking it away into his carrier before calling for you from across the island. “So.. Is there anything I could help with..?” Extremely eager to assist you in your endeavours, he found it so absurd that he was literally with you, right now, in your own apartment.

“I’m okay for now, just relax for the time being.” Your tone reassuring, you continue your current task as soon as you flash him another smile.

Swiftly putting some ingredients into a bowl, you still occasionally glance up at Choso— the second time round, you didn't even notice that he was already situated beside you, his hands gripping at the edge of the counters as he watched your every move.

"..Hmm, you ever made a cream pie, Choso?" You blurt out, carefully sieving the flour into yet another bowl. You must admit, your words intentionally had a different meaning to them. It was funny, and you knew he would flip out; his burning gaze at the side of your head being unavoidable.

His cheeks flash hot, words stumbling after one another. "I uh, haven't, no.." His voice growing small, you were right in thinking that he thought of a different kind.

Choso mentally argued with himself for doing so, as now wouldn't be the best time to feel his cock strain against his pants. He had to immediately swat the thoughts away, as they were already tight enough. "..Have you?"

His sudden reply had your sieving come to a halt as you slowly looked up to him next and you; just to see that he was still doing the same. Staring into his eyes, you try to think of an answer, swallowing the lump in your throat in the midst of it all.

"..No, I haven't." Your words come out in a whisper, noticing how his eyes alternate between yours and your parted lips. "I've never made one.. It's my first time today." Blinking slowly, you grow timid, your eyes making its way back to the bowl.

Resting your two hands flat down on the counter, Choso's breath hitches— his finger reaching down towards your chin. Guiding you to properly look up, he slightly crouches down to close the space between you two, and in a split second, your lips latch onto each other.

Eyes squeezing shut, you melt into the kiss, wrapping both arms around his neck to bring him closer; Choso letting out a subtle grunt as he hesitates about where to place his hands.

"I.. wanna touch you,” Resting his forehead against yours, his voice trembles, finishing with a helpless crack. Choso was practically begging you, and something about that just had you over the edge. "You don't know how much I've been wanting this.. I need you.. please..”

And he wasn’t lying. He wondered how your soft skin felt to his touch. He always wondered whether he would ever be able to have the chance to make you feel good.

Breathing heavily against his lips, you just nod hysterically, and in less than a second he slithers both hands under your ass, hoisting you into his embrace as he gently places you on the counter beside.

Your lips crash onto each others once again, Choso feeling up and down your body, his demeanor showing how much he's been wanting this for ages. He couldn't even believe it himself. You? Allowing him to have you? Is he dreaming?

A mewl escapes your lips as he cups your face into his hands, his ticklish kisses eventually moving down to your neck, the way he touches you seem so tender, and genuine, Choso didn't want to rush anything. He wanted to savour you.

He anchors himself between your legs— chest heaving so intensely from pure excitement. Meanwhile, you strip your top off, Choso swallowing a lump as he processes the fact that you had nothing else underneath this whole time.

He wastes no time, eagerly latching his mouth onto a breast, groaning as he firmly shuts his eyes, tongue relentlessly swirling around your nipple. His free hand fondles with the other as you comb your fingers through his hair, caressing it gently to let him know he's doing a good job.

You let out a string of breathy moans, a pop sounding from his mouth as he lets go. Pausing for a moment, you try stabilise your breathing, confusion written on his face.

"The sofa," You pant, Choso doing more so the same; his brows furrowed in despair as he yearns for more of you. "Let's move to the sofa.."

And he nods, beckoning you to wrap your legs around his torso once again, your arms being used as support to cling to him. You rest your head against his chest for a split second, allowing you to hear the ecstatic pace at which his heart was going at.

His feet stops just before the sofa, giving you the opportunity to drop back down, in which you suddenly grab his hand and pull him along. Choso seems perplexed, until you gently push him down onto the sofa by the chest, and he could do nothing but stare at you in pure adoration.

"Just relax yourself, okay?" Your voice soft, you kneel after he nods obediently, more than happy to agree with whatever you say.

You don’t dare look away, fingers toying at his belt buckle; which soon enough you end up undoing. Choso was about to lose his mind, and it took a lot in him to not leak right here, right now.

Tugging on the waistline of his pants, the man shifts his hips around to allow for more leeway. His mouth remains open as quiet, irregular huffs slip out, so eager to experience the very next thing you'll be doing.

Stopping as soon as his pants met his ankles, you smile, noticing the wet spot that had formed on his boxers— your hand gently rubbing up and down his protruding bulge. A whimper chokes out of him as he shuffles around a bit more, causing him to bite down on his bottom lip to suppress any more moans. He was too afraid to admit that anything you do has him melting.

All he could do was look down at you between his legs in bliss. Choso just couldn't believe it, and this was definitely not how he expected to end his evening.

His boxers follow after his pants, feeling him shudder under your touch as he comes into contact with the cold air. You shift around upon seeing his throbbing, leaking tip; not letting anymore time pass as you wrap your mouth over it, your satisfied humming sending vibrations to and through him.

Looking up to observe a reaction, Choso only slaps a hand over his mouth, groaning into it as his face returns to the same, crimson red; his other hand shaking as he tries to rest it on the back of your head.

Your head bobs up and down, cheeks hollowing and a free hand kneading at his balls for extra stimulation— Choso endlessly whimpering into his palm as his head falls back into the cushions, eyes eventually closing as he floated around in a pool of pleasure.

Buckets of spit trickled down your chin as you continued sucking him off, Choso squirming in the seat from time to time, his legs unable to stay still. You decide to take another peek, looking at him one more time, and thought to yourself; he seemed cute with the bowtie still on, his actions causing a flutter in your abdomen.

"Mmh," Muffled, as he was too busy suppressing a loud moan, he gives up, hand leaving his mouth to grab onto the sofa behind him. His other free behind your head tightens its grip, Choso suddenly fucking his hips up from the sofa, his teeth gritting as helpless grunts try to slip out. "Cu.. I'm gonna.. Uh.."

Your two hands suddenly place flat onto his thighs as he fucks into your throat, Choso's array of whines intensifying as he feels his balls contracting constantly, his face so warm to the touch.

So helpless, his two hands sets its place into your scalp, Choso bottoming his cock into your throat as he lets out a lengthy moan as a familiar feeling he had never felt washes through his body.

Tears welling up in your eyes, you mentally note to yourself to continue breathing through your nose, Choso’s prolonged groan causing a pool between your legs. You feel a rope of warm fluid shoot down your pipes, your hands repeatedly slapping at his thighs for a sliver of air.

His head hauling back down, he didn’t look the same as he did a few minutes ago— Choso’s eyes low and dark as he pulls you off his cock, a questionable grunt coming from him as he takes note of your fucked up face.

He tried his best not to laugh as you shot him a deathly glare, and of course failed. His smile fades, turning into horror as he watches you slide his cock in the midst of your cleavage, lip quivering as you drop an orb of your own spit on his tip that was slightly peeking out.

Choso’s hands grip at a cushion nearby on the sofa as you began to clamp your breasts together around his cock, moving them both up and down— throaty whimpers instantly emitting from him as you reinforced the stimulation on his still sensitive girth.

“Nghh—,” He cries out, mouth left gaped as he felt yet another foreign knot forming in his stomach; somehow identical to what he felt before orgasm, but just stronger.

“It’s too.. too much,” His words come out in a whisper, Choso’s let’s stamping the sides of your arms as you were anchored between them— his whiny voice trembling as he felt yet another impending orgasm that was about to hit him even harder.

A devilish smile plasters onto your face as you occasionally stuck a tongue out to chafe over his throbbing tip, Choso only able to let out deep grunts this entire as he occasionally looked down at you in a state of euphoria.

“Agai-n, I’m.. cum..” Incapable of finishing a sentence, his tit engulfed cock twitches, much thicker ropes of white shooting up into the air, dropping back down into your chest as it splatters droplets everywhere.

Choso’s head feels heavy at this point, his eyes lazily scanning his surroundings as he spots you decorated with the white drops that somehow managed to make its way to your face too.

Getting back to his senses, he attempts to sit up, legs still weak but with enough strength, his first instinct was to tend to you; the same hands clawed in your scalp making its way back to your cheeks as he kissed you so lovingly, his teeth nipping at those lips that were wrapped around his cock a few minutes ago.

Him being the first to pull always, it seems Choso has a request of his own. “..Get on the sofa,” he instructs, no sign of a stutter left to be heard within his words.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you beam a sinister smile as your aching knees rise off the ground— followed by you throwing yourself onto the sofa beside him.

You watch as he slightly jerks his cock, his eyes watching you take your turn obey orders. Raising your hips slightly to make things easier, you stripped the last of your garments; kicking away your underwear to the other side of the room.

Choso mirrors your actions, kicking off his shoes and trousers as he follows with his knee settling between your legs. You look up and survey his every move as his fingers yank at his bow tie, loosening it overall— his hands still trembling as he attempts to undo all buttons of his shirt.

You giggle, reaching down playfully toying with yourself as you place a foot on his bicep, shamelessly exposing your pussy even more to him as he peered down at you in utter silence.

Finally stripping away his shirt, the bow tie keeps its place and hangs around his neck— your impatient self subtly grinding against his thigh— your slick evidently leaving a mark on his skin.

“Just fuck me, Choso..” You whisper, sticking a finger into your leaking hole that has been that way ever since you made out with each other. Your words examined his ability to maintain his composure, Choso felt that it was time you did the things he wanted you to do.

His breathing hitches, Choso sucking in a breath as he leans in closer, as he guides the tip of his cock to align with your hole. An unoccupied hand grabs your legs, hoisting both on each of his shoulders.

Folding you into a mean mating press, your arms encircle his back, your moans tickling the shell of his ears as he slid himself in— throaty grunts also sounding from him.

Choso begins to move his hips slowly, your mouth gasping at his girthy cock stretching you out completely— his face buried into the crook of your neck as his hot breath fanned against your skin.

“Faster.. faster Choso..” You plead, his hips immediately snapping into you at a faster pace, his lowly grunts returning to the familiar whimpers as your gummy walls wrapped around his entire length. Feeling him in your gut, you chant his name like a prayer, Choso doing his best to fuck you in all the right spots.

A loud moan slips past your lips, your manicured nails scratching at his chiselled back like a kitty and it’s scratch post. As he fucked you into the sofa, something similar to a growl was heard from him as you dragged your nails down his entire back; surely leaving an evident trace of you behind.

Seemingly not enough for him, he uses his knuckles by your sides to prop himself up- Choso grabbing your ankles into the grasp of one hand and pushing them down further and infront of him this time.

On the verge of losing his mind, Choso’s hips brutally fuck into you, his cock deeper than ever— a white, creamy ring forming at his shaft.

His heart races at the sight of his thick cock disappearing in and out of you down below, Choso almost hypnotised at the sights as if he were eyeing a pendulum. His hand lets go of your ankles, grabbing for the edge of the sofa above your head— cock drilling you mercilessly into the cushions.

You mewl and whine, utilising maximum strength to keep your eyes open and hold a good view of Choso, his free thumb reaching down to swipe a stripe on your cheek as he coos a few praises at you.

The position you were in as of now had been churning both of your minds, Choso admittedly finding it difficult to continue fucking into you as he was about to cum at any given moment.

“Fuck,” he sucks in a breath through clenched teeth, eyes looking into yours as he studied your facial expressions, “So pretty,” Your cheek eventually fits into his palm as he fluctuates the pace at which he was fucking into you— nothing but satisfaction and adoration to be seen in his eyes.

His hips rut into your hole slow and deep, your hands grabbing at his wrists as you felt him bullying your cervix— cock endlessly rubbing between your walls, tip seldomly hitting against your sweet spots.

The legs of the sofa creak against the floor boards, eventually beginning to scoot itself to another side of the room. You couldn’t care less about consequences you might face with the downstairs neighbours tomorrow.

Strands of his hair stick to his forehead and temples, your fingers hooking around the strap of his necktie to pull in him closer, your lips yearning to have his on yours.

Your walls uncontrollably clench around his length, Choso’s head falling back in bliss; his mouth emitting short, overwhelmed breaths for a few seconds.

Your tits press against his chiselled chest as he fucks you silly, almost as if it was payback for treating him like he was clueless. Did you really think he’d let you boss him around?

Choso’s leans down once again, mouth sucking and leaving marks all over your breasts as he feels himself coming to one of his many orgasms today— buckets of sweat glistening over his physique like a glossy finish.

You grab at his bicep, slapping it repeatedly to give him notice of your impending orgasm— Choso planting a wet kiss on your lips to quickly swallow the ‘O’ your mouth had formed.

He instantly slides his cock out of your hole, taking his length into his fist as he pumps himself slow. His fingers fan over your clit as he ushered you to orgasm and make a mess, so desperate to have you cum all over him. Alternating between sticking his middle and ring finger inside, Choso curls his digits up as he jerks his fingers inside of you.

Your head peers down to see his forearms flexing with his every move, your eyes rolling to the back of your head; squelching noises coming from your pussy.

“Don’t…don’t do that-“ Your brows furrow, lips returning to its O shape as you attempted to hold his wrist as he continued to curl his fingers into you. He knew what he was doing. Choso wanted to make you squirt.

His pleas fucking your mind to an extent, it felt like a mixture of bliss and torture— your eyes struggling at this point to remain open.

“..Come on,” He urges, so needy as he strokes his cock as in-front of you as he watches how you unravel underneath him; Choso slapping his heavy length on your inner thigh whenever he has the chance. “Come on pretty, let go—“

“O-oh, Choso—“ You squeal, fingers reaching and scraping at his pelvis as he got back at you for fucking him up to overstimulation. Your nipples sore and perky, he had to resist the urge to suck on them again.

He spits out his words closely together, pressing his forehead against yours for the second time as you peered your eyes up into his.

“Come on, come on- that’s it,” Choso cooing at you as you released your juices all over his fingers, a sob could be heard from you as a hot flush rushes through your body.

His hand absolutely soaked as he pulls out, Choso nonchalantly wraps his mouth around his fingers, sucking on your slick— his saliva mixing in with the shining fluid that covered his hands.

Pulling you closer to his pelvis by hooking his two hands around your thighs, Choso slips himself back into your hole— your inner thighs soaking with juices.

A mutter of curses under his breath, Choso absolutely loved your warm walls taking his cock whole, his girthy length moving with ease due to the present slick.

Choso was on the verge of losing his mind once again as he realised that he literally got you to squirt less than a few seconds ago, his cock desperately throbbing all over again.

His cock fucks in and out of you, this time cautiously slow as he made sure not to cum inside of you— your clenching walls making it a difficult task for him.

Too sensitive, Choso pulls his cock out with haste, slapping his tip against your clit as he released his own load just outside of your pussy. His entire face flooded with rouge, cock profusely leaking; his grunts in synchronisation with his throbbing balls.

With the use of his tip, Choso pushes the load back into your hole, his cock completely stilling inside for the time being.

Your mind in a daze, you let out a sigh, Choso’s hand caressing up and down the side of your legs as he remained anchored between them.

“We literally just fucked off with the baking. Went and did a whole other cream pie…” You scoff, hanging your head off the sofa, an upside down view of your kitchen filling your vision— everything still left exactly how it was on the countertop.

Silently laughing, Choso takes your leg into his grasp, his head turning to the side as he plant a kiss on your calves. Bringing a hand down to your hole, he stuffs a digit or two in, scooping a few beads of his cum allowing it to coat his fingertips before moving his hand closer to your lips.

“..Milk delivery,” Choso chimes, mimicking his first words from outside your door earlier.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ © luvwestwood ‘24 . all works are owned by me, and originally come from my own head. please do not repost on a third party platform.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ as always, thank you for the love on each and every one of my posts! it means the world to me. ily all soo soo much!

[luvwestwood masterlist]

#choso kamo smut #choso kamo x reader #choso smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #choso kamo #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso kamo x female reader #choso x reader

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sonicandvisualsurprises · 2 months ago

Text

December 12, 1982

The Raincoats' 'No One's Little Girl' from The Kitchen Tapes is a beautifully authentic moment of feminist post-punk brilliance.

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lavenderprose · 8 days ago

Text

At some point, for some reason, Rook had misinterpreted the term 'letters'.

Perhaps it was because Bellara had said it so breathlessly--though Bellara says lots of things breathlessly, given she speaks at about the speed of magic itself. Perhaps it was the smile she'd used when she said 'the Professor'. But Bellara smiles most of the time. In the end it doesn't matter how it happened. The result was the same: Rook heard Bellara talk about these letters, this necromancer she was writing to, and figured they were passing love letters. Odd, very lingo-heavy love letters that contained a lot of side conversation about magical artifacts and the stability of the Veil, but love letters nonetheless.

Rook meets Emmrich and hears him call Bellara 'dear' and knows it must be true. Rook also meets Emmrich and wants to climb him like a tree, but she's always been into that kind of academic, willowy, never-met-the-sun kind of look. Necromancers. Rook's always been into necromancers. She is one. It's pretty normal.

"You must be excited to finally meet him in person," Rook says to Bellara while they're following Emmrich through the Shrouded Halls. Emmrich extols the wonder of life and death in between completely demolishing Venatori in a way that feels bone-shatteringly powerful.

"Oh yeah," Bellara says, and grins. "Arlathan is pretty far from Nevarra, so I didn't think we'd ever actually meet, but it's pretty cool that we did! Professor Emmrich is really knowledgeable, not just about the Fade, but music and art and--"

"Hmm neat!" Rook says, instead of Alright girl keep it in your pants because she actually really likes Bellara and she can't blame her. Emmrich Volkarin is six-foot-three, hazel-eyed and has a voice like candlelit red wine. He'd be a dream come true for any young mage with a little too much to say and a few too many nights alone in their recent past.

Of which there are two in the room.

Anyway.

It's not a big deal. The others don't really seem fussed over the fact that Bellara has brought her sneaky link into the fold and Emmrich is bonkers capable, so it doesn't really matter whether or not he's sourced from some horny letters. He also comes highly recommended from the Mourn Watch, and that's enough for Rook.

They keep things pretty subtle too. Rook never sees them kiss or even really touch, and Bellara seems too busy with the archive spirit to do much other than tinker with it outside of missions. Emmrich always seems to have something to be doing as well. If anything, he seems to spend more time with Rook than Bellara--and this is the source of the issue.

The spark of attraction in the Necropolis grows to nothing short of a blazing inferno. Emmrich invites Rook to the Memorial Gardens, performs the rituals with her, calls her recitation of the rites masterful. He takes her arm in the crook of his own as they walk the paths. He finds her in the kitchen in the evenings and sits next to her, legs crossed in that neat and proper way, and she sits there and lets the heat of his thigh burn into hers until she has to get up and go find something to occupy her hands. He does everything short of lay his jacket over puddles for her like some prince in a storybook--though even that, she wouldn't put past him. She sees him staring at her during a soaking downpour in Minrathous one time, but it's always raining in Minrathous.

Jealousy is an insidious emotion that the Mourn Watch warns against specifically. It will make a monster of the most benevolent, if it takes hold. Rook struggles not to let it. This gets harder and harder, the more time she spends in Emmrich's company and the more he seeks her out. He'll say, "I'm so pleased to have a fellow Watcher to talk to, Rook," and she'll smile and pretend she isn't actively resisting the urge to stare at his lips. He'll say, "I am continually impressed by your keen skills of observation, my dear" and she'll only be capable of nodding because she's trying to clear a daydream from her head. Something about him and one of the geothermal underground pools in the Necropolis and a mysteriously disappearing set of clothing. He'll say, "I find myself continually waiting for the next time we'll have one of our chats, Rook--they're becoming something I find great comfort in," and Rook won't even hear what he's saying, because she's trying so hard to shove him, the concept of him, into a little box in her head labeled Bellara's--Do Not Touch.

It gets a little ridiculous. She stops taking them on missions together, because the sound of them chattering on about Fade harmonics behind her makes her want to absolutely chew glass. On the off chance she sees one of them come out of the other's room, which does not happen very often at all but has, on a handful of occasions, she'll turn herself around and sit herself down on Solas' stupid fuck-ugly green meditation couch until she feels a little less like her head is going to pop off. One time, she falls asleep while doing this and has to deal with a particularly weird conversation with Solas where she's too keyed up to do much more than grunt along to his typical long-winded pontification and he ends the conversation with something along the lines of, "Perhaps you should reexamine some details of your situation that you have taken as fact. You may find them not so."

"Could you just say something that's not buried under five layers of innuendo," Rook thinks, and unfortunately also says out loud, because she's not actually allowed to think just in her head in these Solas-dreams. He scowls at her and rolls his eyes. They're both doing the Fade-space equivalent of blowing raspberries at each other by the time she wakes up.

It all comes to a head in Arlathan, because they've camped with the Veil Jumpers for the night and Rook needs to ask Bellara a question. She thinks nothing of whipping open the flap to Bellara's tent, because Bellara is almost always awake until the stars have been overhead for hours and Emmrich--who was obliged to come along, just this once, because they're in Arlathan specifically for haunting-related reasons--is visible across the camp, wiggling carrots through the bars of Gus the Nug's cage. There is a small, tender smile on his face as he listens to the nug snort and whuffle. Rook suddenly remembers the story about the pig he used to hug as a kid, and then her heart jumps a little, and--

Well, anyway, there shouldn't be a reason not to let herself into Bellara's tent.

There is, in fact, a reason not to let herself into Bellara's tent.

That reason is named Irelin, whose body Rook now knows about in much more expansive detail than she did a few minutes ago. Bellara's too, though most of that was covered by--well, by Irelin.

"Maker!" they all three scream in unison, and Rook all but sommersaults back out of the tent.

"Sorry," she yells through the flap. "Sor--sorry, I didn't--"

"It's fiiine," Bellara yells back. Her head pokes through after a minute. Her hair is down and disappears somewhere back inside the tent. She looks like an almost completely different person with it framing her face like that. "Hey, um--you could, like...knock next time? I mean, I know you can't really knock on a tent--"

"Everything alright over here?" Emmrich has appeared, and Rook's tongue seems to grow three sizes in her mouth.

Oh shit! is all her brain will supply, so she doesn't really respond. She thinks she's willing enough to respect Girl Code, such as it is, that she won't tell Emmrich about the whole Irelin thing. Because maybe that's how their relationship works, or maybe Emmrich already knows, or maybe it's none of her business--

Or maybe something really weird is happening, because Bellara looks at Emmrich and her expression does nothing but get a little more annoyed, and she sighs, "It's fine. No worries, Professor. Just, could you guys--y'know, privacy?"

Then Irelin makes a noise from inside the tent, and it's pretty clear at that point what's just happened, but Emmrich just blushes a little and says, "Ah," and then wraps his hand around Rook's arm and leads her away, back towards the cage with Gus.

"Okay," Rook says, as Gus sniffs her boot on the off chance it contains carrots. "That was weird."

"I fear there are bound to be clashes when multiple cultures blend, my dear," Emmrich tells her, a low murmur directly into her ear. "We in Nevarra, especially amongst the Mourn Watch, are slightly more--shall we say, open? Don't take it personally that Bellara withheld the information of her liaison with Irelin. I don't think it was done maliciously."

"No, I mean--why aren't you--upset?"

Emmrich's brows furrow. "Whyever would I be upset? I'm hardly a prude, Rook. These are difficult times, and any small piece of comfort one can find should be readily taken. A tent in the middle of a busy camp is an...interesting location, but I understand our dear Bellara has history with Irelin, and should the object of my affections be willing--"

"No, no, I mean--you're not--are you okay with this? You and Bellara have some kind of..." Rook scrambles about for an accurate word. "Agreement? About this kind of stuff?"

Emmrich's eyebrows do an odd, fluttery sort of thing that reminds Rook of a puppet she once saw being manipulated by a group of playful wisps. Sort of like his face is trying to show half a dozen emotions at once.

"Why on earth would Bellara and I have ever spoken about her sex life," he says flatly, and far more bluntly than Rook is used to him being. Heat floods her body as she realizes that she has, somewhere along the way, wildly misunderstood something.

"I," says Rook, "have made a mistake."

"Rook," he says, with a voice like he's trying to diffuse a spell primed to explode, "Darling. If you thought Bellara and I were involved, would you mind enlightening me exactly as to...what you think my intentions were when I took you to the Memorial Gardens."

Rook wonders if Gus the nug could be persuaded to eat her whole.

"Enrichment?" she mutters.

"Enrichment," Emmrich sighs under his breath.

There is a long, gravid beat of silence.

"That clearing we passed earlier," Rook mumbles under her breath, once the world is done tilting on its axis. "Looked enriching."

"Quite," Emmrich says promptly. He grabs her by the hand and only grins a little when she releases a frantic, giddy giggle as he pulls her away from the camp.

#Emmrook #Emmrich Volkarin #DATV #Dragon Age #Rook: God of COURSE he's taken. He's a dream come true. Anyone would want him.#Literally everyone else: Your experiences are not universal.

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machveil · 5 months ago

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if you're still taking blurb requests could you maybe do octopus hybrid könig who thinks he's doing a great job at hiding his secret of being an eldritch horror (he isn't) x roommate reader who knows but doesn't care? like they're both chilling on the couch, watching a movie, and reader subtly nudges a tentacle back under his hood after they caught it poking out. basically just könig being a goofy idiot:)

(König x Reader sketch at the end♥️✨) König, bless his heart, was confident in his ability to keep his eldritch appearance under lock and key. to his credit, he’d never had a roommate - it was muscle memory to perform certain tasks with the help of an extra arm.

when you moved in he was inwardly cocky. you’d never know that you were sharing an apartment with an eldritch nightmare of a man, what a silly little mortal! König was just too good at putting up a facade, his mask concealing tentacles that would no doubt alarm you.

to be fair, it did freak you out when you first saw them. it was just out of your peripheral, light reflecting off the glistening appendages. König, stood in the kitchen, idly washing dishes. two hands washing and rinsing ceramic plates, two tentacles drying them and putting them on a rack.

it was muscle memory for him, completely unaware of your presence and simply doing chores with extra help. caught up in his own world, you stood frozen, but ultimately decided he seemed harmless. you had been living with him for a month, and he was polite, always paid his half of the rent…

why mess up something good? if he didn’t bring it up, neither would you.

a year easily passed by, König’s well hidden secret never mentioned. he was so pleased with himself. you were none the wiser, right Maus? just his innocent little roommate, treating him like a normal man. he didn’t need to know about how you caught him carrying in groceries by himself five months ago - hands full, two tentacles easily carrying in the other bags. he didn’t need to know you saw him through the crack of his bedroom door two months ago, folding laundry while a tentacle was tucking his bedsheets in. he didn’t need to know that he had a tentacle out right now.

it was a lazy, stay-in-your-pajamas sort of night. the living room lights flicked off while a documentary played (König insisted that “this documentary is good, Maus— look, they talk about different species of mollusks.”). he was completely focused on the screen, relaxed against the couch and zoned in. so relaxed that a tentacle had slipped past the hem of his mask.

you didn’t think much of it, you’d grown accustomed to seeing his tentacles. that said, you’d never been so close to one. eyes flicking up towards his face, your hand slowly moves up. his gaze, completely on the tv, gives you the smallest bit of confidence to poke at the appendage. he didn’t seem to care, only when you finally moved it back under his hood did he glance down at you, an exasperated little sigh leaving him.

looks like you finally caught him.

(thank you for the inbox! I loved the idea so much - I hope the art is okay! I kept it sketchy and had fun drawing it🎀✨ I haven’t legitimately written anything since, like, sixth grade so I hope this wasn’t absolutely terrible lol)

#art #sketch #doodle #fanart #konig #könig #könig cod #könig x reader #monster!könig #monster!könig x reader #könig fanart #könig x you #könig call of duty #hit post

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chibinasuu · 1 month ago

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Sanji x Reader ― snowstorm; cuddling

part of the cozy holidays event

🎁 ― anonymous tags: sfw, fluff, GN!Reader, no use of y/n, the straw hats are cock blocks

Lazy arms wrapped around Sanji’s waist from behind, and the corner of his mouth turned up when a tiny kiss landed on his suit-covered shoulder.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” said Sanji, turning his face to place his lips gently on the top of your head, “Did you sleep well?”

“Mm-hmm,” you nodded, “Would’ve been better if you were sleeping next to me, though.”

“Sorry, darling.” He chuckled and added half-jokingly, “Should I beg Franky to build us a private suite?”

You scoffed amusedly, continuing to watch him as he placed an onigiri on a platter, lining it up with the others that were already neatly arranged there.

The reddish rays of the rising sun had seeped in through the kitchen windows, coating the space in a warm glow and bringing a subtle comfort to your skin amid the low temperature.

The Thousand Sunny had entered a winter island’s climate, according to Nami, which had the Straw Hats scrambling to bust out their thick coats and sweaters from the depths of their drawers. Chopper was especially stoked by the news, thrilled to be feeling some cold air upon his thick fur.

Sanji dipped his hand into a bowl of water, then grabbed some salt and rubbed it all over his palms. He took some rice, put a generous pinch of salmon flakes in the middle, then started expertly molding it into a triangle, rotating it a few times and squeezing it gently to give it that perfect, firm shape.

Watching Sanji in the kitchen was like viewing a performance art. You could never get tired of the way his fingers moved – so precise and delicate – and the way his lips were always fixed in a faint smile.

It never failed to warm your heart – watching someone you loved doing something he loved.

“Those look delicious, Sanji.”

“Why, thank you, dear. Care to taste-test for me?”

You shook your head, “I already know they’d taste perfect. I’ll wait to eat them with everyone at breakfast.”

You unwound your arms from his waist, your fingers lingering for a moment before reluctantly letting go to start setting up the dining table.

Sanji stopped you with a hum, puckering up his lips in a blatant request for a kiss before you left his side.

A small laugh escaped you as you reached up to cup his cheek, leaning in to grant his wish. You gave him a small peck, but Sanji let out a whine of protest and chased your lips, stealing a proper, longer kiss.

His hands itched to go around you, but alas, they were still coated with the sticky residue of rice and salt.

You tilted your head, seeking to deepen the kiss, when suddenly,

“Sanji!” Your Captain’s voice reached the kitchen before he did, “Is breakfast ready yet?”

Sanji sighed, giving you one last peck right as Luffy came barging in, “Let’s continue this later, shall we?”

“Later” ended up being all the way until the sunset.

The cook has always been the busiest among the Straw Hats, with barely any downtime in his schedule. After breakfast was lunch prep, then came the afternoon snack, then on to dinner.

You loved to accompany Sanji while he cooked, just chatting, doing your own things quietly, or occasionally lending a helping hand, but the kitchen was not exactly the best place to get some alone time.

It seemed that every few minutes, a different crewmate would come sauntering in, looking for a drink or a snack, seeking refuge from the cold, or simply wanting to spend some time with you and Sanji.

You loved your crewmates to pieces, but sometimes, you wished you could get more than just a few stolen moments with your lover.

One of the rare breaks the cook had was the narrow window between afternoon tea and dinner.

The meat was marinating in the fridge, the pizza dough was on its final proof, and Sanji was leisurely trailing kisses down your neck.

You and Sanji loved spending this quiet time at the aquarium bar, sipping on one of his delicious mocktails – or cocktails, depending on your moods – while enjoying some much-needed privacy.

His slender fingers deftly undid the top two buttons of your shirt, giving him access to mouth your collarbone languidly.

Your back was flush with the velvet couch, and you sighed as you played with the golden strands of his hair.

Soft jazz music flowed from the Tone Dial sat at the bar top. The dim room, lit only by the blue glow of the aquarium lights, emboldened Sanji to dip his hand underneath your shirt, the fabric trailing up and exposing your skin as his fingers crept higher and higher…

Bang!

The door being slammed open made you both jump, drawing your sights to the intruder.

“Oi, Mosshead!” Sanji shouted as he shielded your figure, his hands frantically fixing your shirt, “Don’t you know how to knock?!”

“It's common space, Stupid Love Cook!” Zoro yelled back, “I don’t need to knock to enter a public area in my own ship, do I?”

Sanji scowled, not wanting to admit that the moss-for-brains was right, “What do you want?”

“I’m looking for some sake.”

The blond man sighed, disentangled himself from you, and walked to the liquor cabinet. He took out a bottle of cheap sake – not that Zoro would complain – and threw it to the swordsman.

“Now, piss off.”

“Gladly,” Zoro smirked, popping the bottle open and taking a swig before sauntering out the door, “Try a room with a lock next time!”

You still couldn’t quite meet Zoro’s eyes without your cheeks heating up, but otherwise, dinner was your typical, everyday affair – full of chatter and laughter, and occasionally some indignant shouts as rubber hands shot out to steal from unattended plates.

“Ah, right,” Nami began, swallowing her bite of grilled prawn before continuing, “A snowstorm’s coming tonight. It’s gonna be a big one.”

“Uh-oh, who’s on night watch?” Usopp asked.

You raised your finger, “I’m on the first shift.”

Sanji similarly raised a hand, “I’m on second.”

The navigator frowned, “It might be hard to change shifts tonight – too dangerous to climb up and down the crow’s nest during the storm.”

“I’ll take the whole night, no problem.” Sanji volunteered.

He always ended up staying awake the whole night anyway whenever the two of you had back-to-back shifts, choosing to sacrifice his rest for a few more hours alone with you.

“You just rest tonight, dear,” he said, smiling sweetly at you.

He rose from the table and stretched his arms, “I’ll prepare something for breakfast in case I get stuck up there till morning.”

Before long, the fridge was stocked with cold tuna sandwiches, overnight oats with a side of crunchy granola, slices of fruit, cheese, and cured meats. The cook also made sure to leave the boxes of each member's favorite cereal on the counter.

After he freshened up and took his nightly shower, Sanji changed into some comfortable pajamas and went up to the crow’s nest to begin his watch.

He had barely settled down when he heard a knock on the metal hatch on the floor.

He opened it to reveal your smiling face, your hair sprinkled with powder of snow.

“Sweetheart? What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for my night shift, of course.”

“Didn’t you hear what Nami said? A snowstorm’s coming!” His brows furrowed, “You won’t be able to go back to your room once it picks up.”

“Whoops, too bad.” You shrugged, grinning playfully as you climbed fully into the crow’s nest and closed the hatch, “Guess I’m stuck here with you until morning.”

“And if we can’t leave…” You waggled your eyebrows suggestively at him, “Then nobody could get up here either.”

Sanji’s eyes widened, a blush rising to his cheeks once he caught on to your cunning ploy.

His laughter that followed – a mixture of joy, shyness, and excitement – was as sweet as honey.

“Well, come here, then.” He opened his arms wide, “Better make good use of this time.”

You pushed him gently to the floor and straddled his lap, then crossed your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, clinging to him like a koala.

Sanji sighed blissfully at the feeling of your body against his, his arms circling you to pull you in even closer.

The raging wind and snow grew increasingly stronger, making the windows rattle furiously amid the otherwise quiet room.

You buried your hand in Sanji’s hair, relishing the way the soft threads enveloped your fingers.

Sanji’s digits ghosted back and forth on the straight line of your spine, causing goosebumps to appear all over your skin.

You both stayed like that for a while – eyes closed, hands roaming lazily, bodies pressed together.

“I love you.” Sanji suddenly said, the three little words always succeeding in making your heart skip a beat, no matter how often he said it.

“I know.” You kissed his cheek, “And I love you, Sanji. Always.”

Tears pricked Sanji’s eyes as he hugged you tighter, burying his face into your neck.

How undeserving he was of your love.

When he first confessed to you, he could hardly believe that you could possibly return his feelings, but thankfully, you reminded him that you did every single day.

You two ended up sprawled on the floor, limbs entangled, with your head upon his steadily – but rather rapidly – beating chest.

Not for the first time, you found yourself looking forward to the day when you could fall asleep against him every night and wake up in his arms every morning.

The muted howls of the winds and the warmth of Sanji’s embrace made your eyes grow heavier and heavier.

Sanji stayed awake – he was technically still on night watch, after all. He flared his observation haki outward every now and then, though he doubted anyone or anything could attack them in the middle of this snowstorm.

He smiled to himself when you snuggled closer to him, unconsciously seeking his warmth.

As he stroked your hair and admired your peacefully dreaming face, selfishly, he thought,

He didn’t want this storm to be over just yet.

a/n: soft sanji is my kryptonite

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊ main event page || event masterlist ₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

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#sanji x reader #sanji x you #sanji x y/n #sanji #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece fluff #one piece fanfic #op fanfic #sanji fluff #chibinasuu fics

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sanakiras · 1 year ago

Text

BLOOM FOR ME

PAIRING — finance major!mingyu x law major!reader

WORD COUNT — 18.1k

SYNOPSIS — even though you and mingyu share the same friends, there’s a clear distance between you. when you make a drunken mistake, he suddenly becomes increasingly aware of your lack of a relationship with him, and he takes on the challenge of changing it — not expecting to fall for the ice princess who turns out to be less cold than he thought.

TAGS — college au, slice of life, strangers to fwb to lovers, angst, fem!reader, slowburn-ish, rollercoaster of somewhat unrealistic events, minor use of the fake dating trope, not proofread, explicit sexual content, inexpressive!reader, fear of intimacy, once again a fic that seemed better in my head than the finished product but idc!

♪ — pearly drops - bloom for me,, kid cudi - kitchen,, the fugees & ms lauryn hill - killing me softly with his song

NOTE — sooo this fic is pure self-indulgence because i wrote mc as a character very similar to myself! some of these scenes are based on my own experiences :D my personality type is intj which i incorporated a lot here, do with that what you will x

you and kim mingyu just don't work.

to be honest, you don’t think you’ve ever met anyone who didn’t like him or get along with him. most people on campus either wanna be him or be with him — which makes sense, ‘cause he seems to have it all. he’s smart, talented, and awfully good-looking.

and in hindsight, you have no clue as to how or why you landed in his little clique a few months ago, which is composed of a bunch of guys who appear to have very little in common.

all you remember is how joshua, a pre-med student with a soft voice and a passion for playing guitar, introduced himself to you as you were both assigned to help out with student orientation week at the start of the new academic year, and the rest became history.

you’re not sure how he managed to wiggle his way into your personal life, or why he seems so goddamn keen to be there for that matter. the same goes for his friends — chan, seungcheol, soonyoung, minghao, seokmin and mingyu. you’re closest to joshua and seokmin, though you get along well with most of the group.

soonyoung is pursuing performing arts, and he’s loud — extremely loud. you like his sense of humor though. chan does theatre and has mentioned he wants to have his own dance studio later in life. seokmin also does theatre and is arguably the biggest ray of sunshine you’ve ever met. cheol is a business administration major, a great debater, has quite the fire in him, and he looks great in a suit. minghao is more reserved — a psychology major. very sweet and polite, likes to meditate and is surprisingly good at martial arts as well.

and then there’s mingyu.

he studies finance, though he’s considerably less obnoxious than most of the students who pursue said degree. from what you’ve gathered, he has quite the range of talents, which, in all fairness, is pretty impressive.

the guy might as well be the complete opposite of you. he’s popular, loud, outgoing, smiles a lot, known to have a real heart of gold. an entertainer.

you find yourself at the other end of the spectrum. much more on the quiet side, usually only speaking up if you deem it necessary with a sarcastic quip, more often skipping social gatherings than actually attending them.

yet in spite of your closed-off nature, the majority of people closest to you are extroverted, always trying to pull you with them in their adventures, though remaining respectful and understanding when you don’t come with — because that’s just the way you are.

perhaps that’s the sole reason why your relationship with mingyu can easily be described in a single word.

non-existent.

neither of you have anything against each other — it’s just that, out of the group, you seem to have the least of a connection with him. you certainly never do anything together or talk to one another when you’re not with the rest of the guys, and even during the moments you are, saying you’ve had a proper conversation with him would be an overstatement.

for the most part, aside from saying one-worded greetings and goodbyes, you pretty much just disregard the other’s existence.

or, well — that used to be the case.

because there’s this dirty secret the friend group doesn’t know about — and that’s that you and mingyu slept together.

it happened only a few weeks ago. it was supposed to be a simple, fun night dancing and letting loose at soonyoung’s party, which he hosted right after midterms were over. everyone got drunk, including you — way more drunk than usual, it was terrible — and the only thing you remember is waking up in a room you’d never seen before, a bed that definitely didn’t feel like the one you wake up in every morning, your clothes discarded on the floor, and his warm body next to yours.

had you been even the slightest bit sober back then, you absolutely wouldn’t have gotten into bed with him.

it’s not that you don’t find him attractive. on the contrary. he’s sex on a stick, with his strong arms, small waist, sharp jawline and beautiful tan skin — it’s no surprise he’s done several modeling jobs for some extra cash.

but despite all of that, casual hook-ups with people in your circle are not your thing. they’re not his either.

neither of you remember much of that night. you two are rarely ever alone together, so it’s practically been impossible to talk to you about it, and you’ve never been close enough with one another to even text or meet up.

after the incident, you just continued living your life like everything was the same as before. honestly, for the most part, it was.

but mingyu likes to take risks in life. that, and being open about his feelings is just who he is. so he wants to talk to you, privately.

when he finally does manage to catch you alone, which happens to be right after you’ve walked out of your criminal law class, you’re not exactly welcoming to him.

“what are you doing at the other side of campus?” is all you greet him with.

“i’m good, thank you for asking.” he jokes in an attempt to make things more light-hearted, but you don’t pull a single muscle, face remaining the exact same, so he swallows and clutches the strap of his shoulder bag a little tighter. “i, uh... i felt like we should talk about what happened the other night. soonyoung’s party.”

“what’s there to talk about?”

“what we did. together.”

“we fucked. so what?”

oh. that’s a much more blunt response than he expected, even if he is used to those kind of remarks from you.

“well—” he cuts himself off, really cursing himself for not properly thinking of what to say to you before showing up outside of your lecture hall all of a sudden, “don’t you think it’s something we gotta discuss?”

“you want a professional analysis about how much i enjoyed it or something?” you ask with a furrowed brow. “not that i’d be able to give you one, considering it was all just a blur.”

“yeah, i can’t exactly remember much of it either. look, i... i don’t usually hook up with people i’m friends with—”

“except we’re not friends. i don’t think you’ve ever said as much to me as you have in this conversation.”

even though it’s true, it does feel like a slap across the face for a reason he can’t pinpoint. he’s aware you can be blunt sometimes, but this is more than people usually get out of you.

“fine. we’re just acquaintances. but we do share the same friends.” he says after a moment of awkward silence, his tone sounding a little colder than before, subconsciously trying to compensate for your unwelcoming attitude. “doesn’t that matter to you?”

sucking at the inside of your cheek, you sigh. “did your roommate notice me?”

his roommate being jeon wonwoo, the cute computer science major who likes to spend his free time working out and playing video games, always walking around campus with headphones stuck in his ears and a pair of glasses up on his nose. he and mingyu are both on the football team, you’re pretty sure.

“no. he didn’t see a thing. not as far as i know, anyway.”

“good. so that means we can both just pretend it never happened, yeah?” the smile you put on your face is so painfully fake that it makes him clench his jaw.

“yeah.” he mumbles bitterly, and you move away from him, going down the stairs, and mingyu rests his head against the wall, huffing in annoyance and embarrassment.

to be completely honest, he’s not sure why the whole ordeal bothers him so much. what you said was all true, even if you could’ve worded it differently.

many, many questions pop up in his mind. do you have something against him? do you not like him? if that’s the case, why? has he ever said something that caused you to get a bad impression of him? what do his friends have that he doesn’t, aside from considerably shorter legs?

he’s not sure what it is about you he finds so weirdly intriguing, but whatever it is, he’s discovered a fresh determination in him to find out.

mingyu is unsure of how to handle the situation with you. every time you look at him, all he sees is utter disinterest, though there’s very little he can make out of your facial expressions in the first place.

he finds himself seated at a table in the library with minghao, seungcheol and chan, pondering over the exam he’s got coming up at the end of the week, said thoughts coming to a halt once he spots you at the other side of the hall.

his gaze involuntarily follows you as you appear to be scanning a few bookshelves.

if he’s being honest, he’d already noticed you before the drunk-sex incident. he always thought you were pretty, and based on your your vocabulary and the way you spoke, he figured you were intelligent as well, so he silently admired you from afar.

and now, those feelings have only increased.

his eyes linger on your figure. it’s such a fucking shame he doesn’t remember his hands on your skin, the touch of your lips — he could actually cry just imagining it.

then he feels he’s getting too far in the sexual innuendos in his head, so he tells himself to stop right the hell now before his excitement starts to show in his pants.

god, he’s never like this. why is it irking him so much?

it’s chan — the youngest of the group — who grabs your attention, beckoning for you to come over to the table.

when you move to sit down on the empty chair between him and seungcheol, they begin to talk about how the shitty assignments they’re working on are so not worth their time, how one of cheol’s professors didn’t bother showing up for his lecture yesterday morning, and minghao mentions something about a new group project of his—

—and the whole fucking time, you feel mingyu’s gaze burning on you.

it both confuses and intrigues you. what the hell does he want now?

then when two of the boys get into a discussion, you stare right back at him, almost as if to tell him you’re aware of him watching you and you’re watching him as well, and a very thick yet silent tension rises between you.

he swears he catches the smallest glimpse of amusement in your features before you get up and tell them you’ve got to go to your lecture.

cheol raises his thick brow at his friend. “you’re uncharacteristically quiet.”

mingyu shrugs as he watches you walk out of the hall. “yeah, sorry. been a little preoccupied.”

“i can tell, ‘cause aren’t you supposed to be starting football practice right now?”

that snaps him out of it. he checks the silver watch sitting on his wrist, cursing to himself before grabbing his things and hastily throwing them into his bag before sprinting to his dorm.

the following day, as he’s working on his assignment, he decides to take out his phone, typing your username into the search bar on instagram.

your social media profile is as mysterious as you are. zero posts, some pretty aesthetic pictures found in your highlights as well as one or two with you on it, though blurry or with your face partially hidden.

it’s usually much easier for him to get close to people, yet with this, with you — it feels like the way is blocked, and he doesn’t know where to start.

tapping his finger on the table, he tells himself to make some kind of conversation with you the next time he sees you.

which is several days later, when the friend group is meeting up at a restaurant for dinner and drinks.

by the time he arrives — later than planned due to a study session running behind — everyone is already seated, including you. he’d hoped to secure a spot next to you for once, but you’re seated between joshua and seungcheol instead. the only vacant spot is at the other side of the table.

well, shit.

the worst thing is that you don’t seem to spare him a single glance. every time he looks your way, you’re either zoned out or intently listening to the boys around you as they tell their stories, with you throwing in a sarcastic little quip every now and then, making them laugh.

what he doesn’t notice is that you do look at him — he’d be surprised by the amount of times your eyes wander back to him, subtly observing him from a distance when he rambles about something his professor did during class or what went down during football practice.

he’s so handsome that it almost gets annoying to look at him.

it’s an hour before midnight when you decide to get going — you have an unnecessarily early class tomorrow and still gotta get back to your dorm. so you grab your coat and bag, announcing you’re leaving, after which they say they don’t like the idea of you going back on your own, but you refute it and tell them you’ll be fine like always.

“i can take you. i just remembered i gotta catch up with some things anyways before class tomorrow.”

mingyu’s sudden statement makes you blink at him a few times.

it’s not that he’s never offered to take you home before, ever the gentleman, but the situation always ends up with you either going home on your own with them keeping an eye on your location or one of the other guys taking you back, so his sudden eagerness to escort you to your dorm catches you by surprise.

it’s mainly joshua and minghao who catch onto your slight change in demeanor, but their puzzled looks are gone as soon as they came. they’ve had quite a few drinks, after all, and you’re pretty sure soonyoung is so drunk he’s on the verge of tears at the other side of the table, distracting them.

both you and mingyu say your goodbyes to the rest of the group before exiting the restaurant, embracing the fresh air outside.

it’s early october, your favorite time of year. you’re fond of the cloudy skies, the temperature right between warm and cold, and the leaves changing colors.

mingyu walks next to you on the sidewalk, his hands shoved into the pockets of his dark denim jacket.

“i’m sorry for being rude the other day,” you speak up, breaking the silence, “i have a habit of being too straightforward for my own good.”

oh.

he didn’t expect this from you, but it’s a pleasant surprise, even if you’re not looking him in the eye at all.

so he shrugs. “it’s okay. looking back, i didn’t really know where i wanted the conversation to go, anyways.”

“i assumed you were just gonna ask me to keep it between us.”

“i didn’t even think about that, to be honest. i just don’t do stuff like that with friends, so... i guess i was just curious about your thoughts or something.”

you bare your teeth in a bitter smile, still refraining from looking in his direction when he’s clearly looking at your face. “you called me your friend again.”

the comment doesn’t sit right with him. “do you mind me asking why that bothers you?”

“it bothers me ‘cause it’s not the truth.”

god, you certainly do not sugarcoat things.

“do you... is there anything i did to make you dislike me?”

mingyu watches the way you clench your jaw at his question. it intrigues him. “i never said i disliked you, mingyu. i’m just picky about who i consider close to me and i don’t want anyone to get the wrong impression. sharing friends doesn’t make us friends.”

“not even a little bit?”

you chuckle again. he wonders what he’d have to do to elicit a real, genuine laugh from you. “name one of my hobbies. something i like to do in my spare time. the basics don’t count.”

he eagerly starts his sentence. “well, you like to... y’know... hang out with us.”

“i said no basics.”

“okay. fine. you got me. but, to be fair, you also gotta admit you don’t exactly share much.”

“you know who i do share things with? my friends.” you tease him, after which he laughs. you like the sound of his laugh.

“you’re evil.”

“thank you.”

he turns around, walking backwards in front of you so he can face you, finally getting the eye contact he’s been waiting to get. “i wanna be friends.”

“congratulations.”

“oh, c’mon. work with me here.”

“i would if it wasn’t so much fun to see you acting like this.”

mingyu feels a certain excitement rushing through his body when he sees how you look at him. “let’s get to know each other better. how about twenty questions?”

“oh, you mean like a conversation?”

he chooses to ignore your sarcasm for now. “i’ll go first. what’s a hobby of yours?”

“such depth,” you snicker, “i like to ice skate.”

“really? that’s cool.” he smiles, tilting his head. “okay. you gotta ask me a question now.”

“which of your friends is closest to you?”

yeah, he should’ve seen something like that coming. of course you wouldn’t go for small talk.

he ponders over the question before giving his answer. “minghao.”

“hm. interesting.” you just hum, clearly having no intention of explaining it, so you gesture for him to come up with another question.

“do you think you’ll ever be close with me?”

“no.”

“why?”

“not your turn.” you tell him, simultaneously trying to find out how far you can take this. “how many girls have you slept with?”

“four. why do you think we won’t ever be close friends?”

“because we’re too different. you can’t stand the fact that i give nothing away, i can sense it a mile from here.”

“it’s not that.”

“what is it then?”

“i’m… i don’t know, a people person. i want to get along with everyone, want everyone i like to like me. maybe that’s selfish, but… yeah. i like you and i wanna be your friend. it bothers me that you don’t.” he feels the words suddenly tumbling out of his mouth are taking the conversation elsewhere, so he tries his best to not come across as too intense. “i’m sorry for pestering you about it, i’ll just... walk you to your dorm and leave you be.”

he wants to increase the distance between you, but you don’t let him. your hand moves to his upper arm, touching him, but it’s gone before he can even look at it.

physical touch has never been one of your strong points, despite craving it at the same time. “i’m gonna say it one more time and that’s it — i don’t dislike you. maybe… i don’t know, maybe we could have a strong friendship, who knows. if you wanna prove me wrong, be my guest. i won’t stop you.”

“okay. anything i should know?”

you pout your lips as you think of things to mention. “i’m not a huge fan of texting. i prefer calling or meeting up in person. i’m more of a listener than a talker. i’m also a bit of a control freak so i’m not big on surprises. that’s all you’re getting for now.”

he thinks over your words and smiles. “i can work with that.”

not much later, you arrive at the university campus, and you use your card to enter your building, walking out front.

mingyu clearly feels it’s mandatory to follow you all the way to your door.

once you’ve arrived at your dorm, you lean against the doorpost. “thanks for taking me home.”

“you’re welcome. see you tomorrow.” he says. normally he’d give his friends something like a hug when saying goodbye like this, but he has a gut feeling you’re not very fond of physical contact with people who aren’t close to you, so he lets that go for now.

“bye.” the playful smile is audible in your voice before you close your door, and mingyu leaves your building with a sickeningly nice feeling in his stomach.

and he remains on your mind, especially once you watch him walk towards his own dorm from behind the window, unaware of your gaze.

it makes you scoff to yourself. you’ll give it to him — he’s sparked your interest.

“hey. mingyu.”

he’s roughly pulled from observing you in his secure spot in the university library by jeonghan, his partner for a project he’s working on. “what?”

“what’s going on? you’re awfully distracted.”

“it’s—nothing.” he responds, voice an octave higher. maybe he should quit this habit of looking at you every time he comes here.

“has anyone ever told you you’re a shitty liar?”

“many times, actually.”

“good. ‘cause you are.”

jeonghan is shorter than he is, with more of a lanky physique and slightly longer hair. he’s also the most annoying little shit mingyu knows — despite the guy being older than him — because he somehow. knows. everything. all the time. he knows things about mingyu before he knows them himself. if anything, it’s a talent.

“so who’s the girl?” jeonghan then asks in a more hushed tone, using his pencil to point at the girl in question.

mingyu looks in your direction again, taking notice of how nice you look today, and he just gives in to his friend, not even bothering to try and act stupid. “friend of a friend.”

“what does she do?”

“law.”

“she nice?”

“to a specific group of people, yeah.”

“oh, she’s a little mean to you, huh?”

“not mean. just distant. very distant.”

“that’s new.”

“what is?”

“you going for girls like that. it’s refreshing.”

“yeah, well—she doesn’t go for guys like me.”

“what do you mean?”

“i’m pretty sure she doesn’t like me at all. she’s wildly unimpressed by my presence, anyway.”

“how do you know?”

mingyu sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “she’s very close with joshua and seokmin, likes the rest of the guys too, but me… i don’t know. we’ve been in the same friend group for a year, and it’s like i’m the only one she doesn’t feel comfortable with. bothers me.”

“you’ve known her for a whole year and it’s only bothering you now?” jeonghan senses there’s more going on. “what led up to this? got into an argument?”

the younger of the two scoffs. “not at all. the contrary, actually.”

jeonghan jokingly throws in the first thing he can think of. “what, did you accidentally kiss her when you were drunk or something?”

“not entirely. we were both drunk, for starters.” mingyu comments, the next sentence muttered much more quietly. “and we had sex.”

a scoff of surprise leaves jeonghan’s mouth. “you slept together? when?”

“soonyoung’s party.”

“that was weeks ago. haven’t you talked about it? at all?” he asks, clearly invested in the story now.

“i brought it up, she brushed it off and said it meant nothing. told her i wanted to be friends with her a couple days later, but she said she doesn’t think we’ll ever be good friends ‘cause we’re too different, and it’s fucking killing me for some reason. she still said she was… open to friendship though.”

“ah, you like her.”

“yeah, obviously. problem is that she hates me.”

“no, i mean, you like her. you don’t just want to be her friend.”

mingyu is somewhat taken aback by his words. “i don’t have a crush.”

“don’t fool yourself. you’d never get this worked up over someone not wanting to be friends with you — you’re worked up because you wanna get to know her better and she doesn’t seem like she wants to get to know you at all.”

“i can’t be in love with someone i hardly know.”

“debatable. you still have a crush on her.”

“fine. whatever. say that were the case — purely hypothetical of course — what should i do to get her attention?”

jeonghan has that knowing smile on his face, the one that makes him look like he’s up to no good. “you gotta get a little selfish.”

“could you be a little less vague for once in your life?”

“create a circumstance where she spends time with you without it being planned.” he shrugs, as if that answers it. “something like getting stuck in an elevator for a few hours. you know what i mean.”

“well, unless you were planning on hijacking the elevator somehow, i don’t think i have all that many options.”

right there and then, the two recognize another student from their statistics class sitting a few tables further. she’s giggling to her friends about something, hesitantly looking their way, pointing at them.

“speaking of crushes, she’s got one on you.” jeonghan mentions, raising his brow.

it doesn’t interest mingyu all that much. “yeah, she asked me out a while back. i told her i was busy. didn’t have the heart to flat-out reject her. in hindsight, maybe i should’ve, ‘cause she acts like that every time i see her around.”

jeonghan can’t help but take advantage of the opportunity currently presenting itself like a fucking birthday cake. “are you thinking what i’m thinking?”

“probably not, since i have no idea what you’re getting at.”

he leans a bit closer to his taller friend, speaking in a more hushed tone this time. “you could reject her — subtly.”

mingyu frowns at that. “how?”

and jeonghan smirks a little to himself before he’s about to tell him his plan. “you’ve heard of fake dating before, right?”

the following day, you find yourself in the library of the law faculty, reviewing the slides of the lecture you didn’t feel like attending this morning.

someone drops their bag ever-so-subtly on the table at the empty spot next to you, and when you look up from your notes, you recognize your dearest acquaintance.

you huff, removing one of your earbuds to engage in the conversation you didn’t ask for. “what do you want?”

“you have got to stop saying that when you see me.”

“no, i like it this way.”

“of course you do.” mingyu merely scoffs at your words, sitting down next to you. “you look busy.”

“gee. it’s almost as if i am busy.”

“what’re you working on?”

“undoubtedly nothing you have any knowledge of.”

he rolls his eyes when you grin at him, clearly ready to dodge his questions with more of your sarcastic comments.

“are you always this much on edge?”

“mhm. i hope you are too — otherwise you’re taking up too much space.”

the comment has him frowning at first, and then he gets it, making him let out a vaguely impressed scoff. “you’re cute.”

“not exactly the word i would use.”

“really?” he says, taking the cap off his water bottle, “i think it suits you.”

you squint your eyes at him, finally taking the bait. “what do you want? seriously.”

he shifts in his seat, clearly happy you’re finally going along with him here. “you know the senior gala on thursday, right?”

“yeah. i’m not attending.”

“okay. here’s the thing — i kind of have this girl in one of my classes who won’t stop bothering me about going out on a date with her and stuff.”

“gosh, poor you.”

“i’m serious. it sucks.”

“what does this have to do with you bothering me?”

“well, i figured if she finally saw me with someone else, she’d back off.” he explains, leaning a bit closer to you. “meaning i need a plus-one who’s willing to play my girlfriend for the night.”

“so?”

“so, i’d like you to be my plus-one.” he grins.

“why?”

“why not?”

“you’re saying you wanna pretend to be dating?” you ask, and when he nods, you shake your head. “no one’s gonna believe that.”

“yeah, they will. it’s perfect. same friend group, completely different majors so she probably doesn’t know you — c’mon, consider it.”

he’s surprisingly convincing, as if he already knows how to crack your demeanor. you remain stubborn, though. “out of all the girls you’ve got in your contacts, you’re asking me?”

“you’ve made it clear we’re only acquaintances — i wanna change that. become friends. just like i told you.”

you finally lock eyes with him again, taking your pen away from the paper, refusing to back down once you notice how close he is. “i don’t know what you’re expecting, but you’d get nothing out of a friendship with me.”

he keeps his eyes on yours. “i’ll be the judge of that.”

when you roll your eyes at him, he can tell you’re considering it. “when does it start?”

“ten.”

“dress code?”

“go for a cocktail dress.”

twisting your lips, you push your tongue against the inside of your cheek, and even you are a little weak for those big, brown eyes of his. and you said you’d give him a chance, after all. “fine.”

“great!” he nearly jumps in excitement. “text me when you’re ready and i’ll come and pick you up.”

“yeah, yeah. now go. i got shit to do.”

and once you’ve watched him cheerfully skip out of your sight, the tiniest smile rises to your face, after which you chuckle to yourself.

mere days later, on thursday, mingyu finds himself at your doorstep. it’s not like him to feel nervous — so why the hell is he this time?

you open the door hastily. “hey. you can come on in, i’m all ready except for the pair of earrings i can’t seem to find.”

he watches as you search through small drawers in the cupboard by the wall. maybe he should be glad you’ve got your back faced to him, because he’s subconsciously staring at you, checking you out.

the velvet red one-shoulder dress hugs your features just right, and he’s stunned in his place before you notice he still hasn’t closed the door behind him. “mingyu. the door.”

“uh—yeah. sorry.” he stumbles, stepping inside, doing as he’s told before his eyes wander around your room. “don’t you have a roommate?”

“i used to have one, in my first year. got a single room after.”

“must get quiet after a while.”

“i like it that way.”

your words remind you of his roommate, wonwoo. he figures you’re someone who prefers solitude after a day of being around others, which he keeps in mind.

once you’ve found your earrings, you’re putting them in, and you notice him stepping closer to you. he actually looks criminally good in the black suit he’s wearing, his half-long hair sitting just right. the fucker might as well be a real-life prince charming.

you’re glad you went with smokey eyes. your look compliments his.

as you subtly watch him in the mirror, he comes to stand behind you, holding out the modest bouquet of red roses he’s been holding behind his back. “these are for you. i appreciate that you wanted to come with me tonight.”

the gesture makes your eyes soften. “thank you. oh, they smell nice.”

mingyu feels a little giddy inside when you give him a little smile before putting the flowers in a vase with water. it might be the first time he’s seen you give one that is genuine.

the gala is taking place at a fancy hotel close to university. the walk there only takes a few minutes. once you're nearing the entrance to the party, dimly lit chandeliers catching your eye, he gently puts his hand on your back, just underneath your shoulder blades. you raise a brow, looking over at him, and he shrugs. “i’m your fake boyfriend for the night, remember?”

which has you chortling for a second. “that’s not where to put your hands if you wanna make this believable.”

before he can change the position of his hand, you’re already doing it for him, pushing his hand lower with yours, watching the way his face drops when you allow him to go lower than your hips, breath hitching in his throat.

“that’s better. you can hold me and kiss me on the cheek if you have to. not too much, it’s not the right time and place for it anyways.”

“noted.”

once you’ve arrived inside and given your coats away, you notice most people here are strangers to you, anxiety kicking in, internally wishing you’d consumed some alcohol before coming.

and your companion takes notice of this from the way you’re suddenly squeezing his hand, which you’re undoubtedly not doing on purpose.

“you okay?”

“sure, i’m fine.” you faintly smile back at him.

he’s honestly considering saying fuck it, ready to ask you to just get out of here with him and go anywhere else instead — that is until one of your friends comes up to you.

“am i imagining things—”

“we’re fake dating, josh.” you answer him, increasing the distance between you and mingyu as if to emphasize your point. “his idea, not mine.”

joshua appears all kinds of confused. “okay. um… just—why?”

mingyu presses his lips together. what he said about the girl bothering him was all true. could he handle it on his own? probably. is fake dating slightly unnecessary and a little dramatic of a solution? undoubtedly.

but he just wanted you as his plus-one so bad. he saw it as an opportunity he couldn’t miss out on.

what can he say? jeonghan is weirdly persuasive.

“there’s this classmate of mine who won’t get off my back about dating, so i figured she’d quit if i showed up with a girlfriend. girlfriend being her.”

in spite of the explanation, joshua still looks at the two of you with a frown. “right.”

“i’m gonna go get us a drink. be right back.” mingyu says, almost regretting doing so when he realizes he has to take his hand off your back.

you watch him walk off to the bar, suddenly hearing your best friend chuckle softly next to you. “can’t believe i never considered you two before.”

“what are you talking about?”

“you and him. you’d be a nice match.”

“what, me and mingyu? we’d be a disaster.”

“why?”

“we’re too different, josh. and don’t even try to give me that opposites attract crap.”

his soft facial features melt into a smile that gives off the impression he knows something you don’t. “i think you’d be surprised. that’s all.”

whatever the fuck that means.

your fake boyfriend returns not much later with a drink for the two of you. despite your clear disagreement with joshua’s words, you just can’t help but think about what he said, especially when mingyu’s arm remains looped around your waist for quite a while as the three of you discuss the whereabouts of your friends.

the worst thing is that you don’t even mind him touching you. you’ve always been picky when it comes to the people who are allowed to as much as stand close to you, and mingyu was not one of those people until you grabbed his wrist after he took you home from dinner, which was only last week.

and that’s not the only thing you’re becoming increasingly aware of.

mingyu’s popularity is a bigger thing than you thought. either that, or half the people here are from his faculty. which is highly unlikely.

being as observant as you are, you’ve noticed several girls as well as guys pointing your way, making you feel uneasy.

so your hold on him tightens as you stare back at them, as if to silently tell them to fuck off and focus on someone other than your fake boyfriend.

you’re not actually jealous. no, that’d be ridiculous. you can’t be jealous of others wanting something you don’t even have in the first place.

chan and seokmin arrive half an hour later, having pretty much the same reaction to the situation as shua. but they play along.

though not without noticing how comfortable the two of you are together.

after several hours of drinking, dancing and socializing, you feel in need of a break. “hey, i’m just gonna get some fresh air outside, okay?”

mingyu’s lashes flutter as he nods. “would you mind if i came with?”

you gesture that you’re okay with it, so he takes your hand to guide you through the mass of people without losing you, the littlest of touches sparking an indescribable feeling in your stomach.

the air feels much colder now that you’ve been inside the warm hotel for several hours. you sigh, leaning back against the brick wall behind you, the surface feeling slightly uncomfortable on your one uncovered shoulderblade.

mingyu takes fake dating very seriously, as it seems. he’s practically been unable to keep his hands off you, and you’re going to indulge in it for however long it lasts.

as you’re standing outside together, you notice he’s loosened up more around you, not hesitant to get close either. he’s certainly not afraid to put his hand on your thigh, and you make zero effort to push him away.

his lips ghost by the skin of your neck, alcohol clouding his thoughts. “it’s nice to have you here. i wasn’t all that excited about going at first.”

“yeah, yeah. i made your night ten times better.”

he snickers. “you hear that often?”

“every now and then. don’t sound so surprised.”

“it doesn’t surprise me. i was just hoping i was special compared to the others.”

“doesn’t everyone?”

“you’re a little cryptic, anyone ever told you that?”

“maybe.” you respond, chuckling, allowing his lips to touch your bare skin.

mingyu bites his lower lip, not afraid to look you in the eye to match your playful gaze with a similar one. “do you not remember a single thing from the night of soonyoung’s party?”

he almost smacks himself for asking the question, seeing your expression falter a little. “no. neither do you, as you’ve told me.”

“no, i don’t,” he says firmly, mentally trying to slap himself for consuming so much alcohol that it makes him say things he usually wouldn’t, “but i kinda wish i did.”

“why?”

when he remains quiet, still trying to figure out the best way to respond, you gently take a hold of his chin to lift it up, making sure he keeps his eyes on yours. playing with him is fun.

“i...” he tries to utter the words, but god, he might as well be hypnotized.

before he can give his answer, seokmin loudly stumbles out of the building, catching your attention. he’s clearly had a bit too much to drink, his boisterous laughter echoing through the courtyard. seungcheol follows closely behind, a hand on his shoulder.

whatever moment you and mingyu were having is gone in an instant. cheol spots you, keeping his friend somewhat upright in the process.

“i’m gonna go take him home, couldn’t find the other guys. i think soonyoung might be next, though.” he says, doing his best to keep seokmin upright in the process.

so mingyu nods. “okay. i’ll go check.”

they say their goodbyes, after which he proceeds to looks at you again. you let your head rest against the wall again. “you go ahead. i’ll meet you back inside in a few.”

he silently agrees, returning to the people inside. you appreciate the silence, mentally drowning out the sound of people talking and cars driving into the background.

it’s then that some girl you’ve never seen before walks up to you. “hey. you’re mingyu’s new girlfriend, right?”

the crease between your brows becomes apparent. “have we met?”

“no, no. i’m in the same faculty as him. i was just curious. didn’t know he was dating anyone.”

she’s clearly had a bit to drink, though not enough for her speech to be incoherent. you’re not sure what to give her other than an awkward smile that looks anything but genuine.

but either she’s too far gone to catch the hint or she simply doesn’t want to. “was kinda surprised to see him end up with a girl like you.”

and since she’s probably not gonna remember this conversation tomorrow, you decide to engage in it for once. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“i don’t know, ‘s just... you seem a little distant. just different. he’s never really gone for someone like you. no offense or anything.”

you keep your composure despite a certain emotion brewing hot inside you, whatever the hell it may be. the sheer audacity of some people to stick their nose in business that’s not their own. “gee. hard to fathom i landed a guy like that, huh?”

the sarcasm dripping from your tongue finally seems to get it through to her that her opinion is anything but wanted, so she mumbles something about going back inside, after which you lean back against the wall, closing your eyes for a moment.

worst thing is that she’s probably right.

you and mingyu just don’t work.

and you don’t even have feelings for the guy, so why does it bother you?

the whole thing upsets you enough for you to go back inside, rushing to find him to tell him that you don’t feel like staying.

when you return to him, he’s so used to his role that his hand finds your waist and his lips touch your cheek, but you smoothly back away this time. “i’m gonna go back to my dorm. you guys have fun.”

even over the noisy music and chatter in the background, he notices the change in your tone and behavior, which gives him the hint that something has upset you. “why? is everything okay?”

“i’m fine.”

“i’ll take you back.”

“i’d appreciate it if you didn’t.” you tell him, sounding harsher than intended. again. god, you keep messing up. you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose for a moment. “i’m sorry.”

mingyu is still processing your words as you’re leaving him behind.

then when you’re walking towards the exit, a girl accidentally bumps into you, spilling her drink over your dress.

goddamn. you wonder what the fuck you did to the universe for it to give you a night as shitty as this.

she begins to profusely apologize, very obviously sincere, but you just curtly tell her it’s fine, annoyance rising.

mingyu notices the situation from afar, deciding to go after you when he sees you walk to the bathroom instead of the exit.

the bathroom is awfully fancy, but it seems only fair for a hotel like this. clenching your jaw, you grumble while getting some paper towels, hiking the dress just a bit upwards.

god, you’re never agreeing to do that fake dating shit ever again. what a joke.

you huff as you keep trying to get the now barely visible stain out of your dress. you’re rubbing over the fabric on your thigh when someone walks in.

of course it’s him.

“any luck getting it out?” he asks, and you clench your jaw, throwing the wet paper towels into the trashcan beside the sink. your hands hold onto the cold surface, knuckles growing white as you focus on them instead of him.

“why am i here?”

“what do you mean?”

you turn your gaze to him, abandoning your quest of getting the stain out of your dress, annoyed that he’s acting like he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. “why did you invite me here? out of everyone you could’ve gone with, why did you wanna go with me?”

“are you angry at me?”

“answer the question.”

“i just…” he trails off, trying to think of the right words. “i just figured it was a way to become friends.”

you’re actually going to lose your shit if he as much as utters the word ‘friend’ to you one more time. “oh, jesus. cut the bullshit. why do you wanna be friends with me so badly?”

“i don’t know, because… because it occurred to me — y’know, after the party, after what we did — that we have little to no relationship and i wanted to change that.”

“oh, right. you just had to sleep with me before thinking of that.”

“no, i didn’t. i just haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that night, and i—”

what the hell is he even supposed to say? he’s not even sure what exactly it is he wants from you. sure, he wants to be friends — but god, he spends so much time wishing he remembered what it was like to touch you that night, what you looked like underneath your pretty little dress, what you sounded like.

you’re quiet for a second before your whole demeanor changes, agitation shifting to intrigue. “so that’s what this is about.”

“well—what?”

“if you wanted to fuck, you should’ve just said that. instead of dragging me to this shit.”

“i—” he suddenly feels suffocated by the small size of the room and your body getting closer to his, backing him up against the door. “that’s not why i—”

“does it matter?” you ask, and he tries to hide his ragged breathing now that you’ve pressed your front against him, clenching his jaw.

it doesn’t help that you’re watching him like a hawk.

“not to repeat myself all the time, but i—i normally don’t do this with friends. i don’t want you to have the wrong idea of me.” he exclaims, cursing himself for looking down at the way your red dress is accentuating your curves so well.

so you begin to unbutton his shirt, and he breathes heavily because of it. “well, i guess you’re in luck. ‘cause we’re not friends.”

he’s about to tell you that he genuinely wants to be when you finally kiss him. it’s fast and intense and hungry.

whatever he expected, it wasn’t this — but he can’t find it in him to not give in.

his hand moves to the back of your head, pulling you closer, then proceeding to help you with unbuttoning his shirt, all without breaking the kiss.

mingyu shivers when your cold hands finally touch his bare chest, the faintest hint of your sharp nails nearly making him beg for you to dig them into his skin until he bleeds.

there’s a shift in control when his feet no longer feel locked in with the tiled floor, his hands trailing up your legs, fingers gripping the skin of your thighs. he lifts you up, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist, only to have him pushing you up against the door, pressing his body against yours.

you’re rubbing your front against him, taking notice of the hard bulge in his pants, nearly crying out from his sheer size.

holy shit. no wonder you were sore after you slept with him — he’s fucking huge.

“gyu,” you break the kiss, “can i suck you off?”

the way you breathily call him by his nickname for the first time is nearly enough for him to bust in his pants. “wanna taste you instead. please?”

with your back resting against the surface behind you, you watch him as he sinks to his knees, kissing the inside of your legs, goosebumps erupting on your skin.

“are you sure?”

“yeah. please let me.”

“okay. just make it quick.”

in hindsight, maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say.

because he’s diving in faster than you can comprehend, lace panties pulled down in less than a second, making you gasp in surprise. your fingers grab onto a few strands of his hair, accidentally tugging on them, only to have him moaning in response, which is most likely the best thing you’ve ever heard.

your teeth sink into your lower lip as a way to suppress your moans, only deeps hums and groans escaping you, much to mingyu’s annoyance, because he wants to hear you.

his fingers slide into your dripping wetness, your muscles tightening up from the sudden intrusion. he looks up at you while kissing the inside of your leg, a sight that’s so fucking hot that you have to tell yourself not to get lost in it.

another surge of adrenaline rushes through you when he spreads your legs even wider, causing you to let out a broken moan, much to his satisfaction.

“you can pull on my hair. i like that.” he breathes out with a genuine smile and lust-blown eyes, refusing to wait for your reaction and getting right back to what he was doing.

it doesn’t take him long before he’s got you squirming above him. tugging his hair really does get him going, but you’re nearly at your limit, feeling the familiar feeling building up in your lower belly.

“gyu—fuck, ‘s too much, too much—” you try to push his wrist away and make him look up at you again.

you swear you might lose it when you see he’s actually pouting over the fact that you’re pulling him away from something he clearly enjoys doing.

“but, baby, i wanna make you cum.”

the pet name turns you on even more. “you can. i just want you inside of me, right now.”

he’s rising to his feet, towering over you with his tall frame as you push him back against the door, kissing his jaw, neck and collarbone while undoing the buttons of his white shirt.

mingyu is surprisingly vocal, which you thoroughly enjoy. his lips find yours again, relishing in the remaining taste of you on his tongue.

“god—want me to fuck you?”

pulling your dress over your head, you’re left in your matching set of lingerie that you just so conveniently put on tonight. “are you seriously asking me that right now?”

“fine. bend over the sink, then.”

the difference in his tone and words makes you shiver with excitement. once you do as he says, a new shot of adrenaline courses through your body — because you completely forgot about the mirror that’s now right in front of you.

so you’re able to watch him push his pants down, positioning himself behind you. his big hands are warm on your skin, the silver ring on his finger making you shiver.

his shirt is half unbuttoned, his hair a mess, trousers down to his ankles — but none of that matters now that he’s got you bent over in front of him, fingers trembling in excitement as he takes the condom from his pocket to slip it on.

all he can do is hiss and groan when he feels your heat wrap around him so nicely as he pushes into you. “you’re so tight, jesus—”

you huff. “not my fault you’re so big.”

it makes him laugh and simultaneously turns him on. “you’re all bite, even when i’m trying to fuck you.”

“don’t act like you don’t like it.”

he then finally bottoms out, both of you moaning, and he chuckles. “never said i didn’t.”

god, he’s so fucking attractive. he bites his lower lip as he throws his head back, his strokes slow but hard.

his girth feels so good inside you — and his touches are electric on your skin. his hands go from your ass to your hips, your stomach, everywhere.

and he’s certainly not afraid to get loud. especially when he feels you’re pushing your hips back against his. he’s convinced this is what heaven feels like.

“gyu, a little harder, please.” you plead, slightly beginning to struggle with holding yourself up by the edge of the sink.

“how hard d’you want it?”

“as hard as you want. i can take it.”

he gestures for you to turn over, lifting you up and pushing you up against the wall, burying himself inside you again before you can even comprehend it.

his fingers feel almost painful on your thighs with the way he’s digging into your skin. he’s sucking and biting right above your collarbone, leaving some pretty marks that will definitely be visible tomorrow.

you push his jaw upward so you can kiss him, and he sighs into it, tilting his head to get better access.

it’s like he’s trying to match his thrusts with your heartbeat at this point. pressure builds in your stomach when you whine his name. “oh my god—gyu—”

“i love it when you call me that,” he breathes out, so into it that he’s confessing everything on his mind, “you don’t know how much i’ve thought about this — been fantasizing about this for ages.”

you hold onto his shoulder blades, nails digging into them. “then you better make it worth my while.”

“such a brat.” he teases, a moan slipping out right after when you use your legs wrapped around his waist to push him deeper into you.

mingyu’s stamina is admirable — but he’s a simple man. you’re so hot and you just feel so good around him, and he knows he’s getting close to his release already.

you notice his pace becoming slightly uneven, his breaths erratic, a layer of cold sweat forming on his back.

he’s doing his best to hold out for you, to make you hit your peak first, but you actually need to see him come undone first.

“are you gonna cum, gyu?”

you have to refrain from biting your lip when he’s stuttering out a response. “n—no, not yet—”

“i want you to.”

“jesus, don’t say that—”

oh, he’s cute. he’s responding so well to your words, so you indulge in it a little bit more.

“wanna fuck me again later? without a condom? you can cum inside me. i’ll let you do anything you want.” you tease — your words being the complete truth, because if he’d want to fuck you again, you’d sure as shit let him.

his brows scrunch upwards while he lets out another whine. “anything?”

“mhm,” you nod, “anything.”

his fantasies about you, the way you’re looking at him, the things you’re saying, the way you suddenly clench around him — it’s all too much. his release spills into the condom, his muscles flexing from the sudden rush of adrenaline shooting through him.

it’s enough to make your legs tremble, and you reach the climax you’ve been aching for.

he’s still coming down from his high, face buried in the crook of your neck when he hears you chuckle. “so much for being friends, huh?”

he then smiles as well. “are we close enough for you to consider me as your friend now?”

“you’re quite literally inside me.”

“knowing you, that doesn’t really have to change anything.”

“oh, is that so?” you retort at his cheekiness. “sure. you’ve made it to friend level 1. congrats.”

“great. level 2 is next, then.”

“god, forget i said anything.”

“no going back now. you’re stuck with me.”

something’s very clearly changed between you since that night. mingyu has, in a certain way, changed your relationship.

because you’ve successfully upgraded from strangers to fuck buddies.

and truth be told, he wants to rip his fucking hair out.

the sex is great. there’s something thrilling and exciting about your secret relationship, both of you skipping lectures and sneaking away after classes with no one around you having a single clue.

and yet he’s come to the conclusion that this isn’t what he wants.

he wants you. all of you, completely. but every time he tries to get even remotely close to you, you somehow manage to dodge it and change the topic.

it bothers him. but he’s scared to just put all his feelings on a platter — because he doesn’t want to lose whatever he has with you.

something he’s also discovered is how utterly weak he is for even the slightest bit of your attention, the smallest of touches.

so when he’s typing away at his laptop in the study hall, noticing the screen of his phone light up as a message from you comes in, he can’t bring himself to ignore it.

20:23: you look cute when you’re focused

the message makes him frown, and he looks around, trying to figure out where you are, since you’ve clearly got your eyes on him.

so he texts back.

20:24: i always look cute ;)

tapping his fingers on the table, he waits for your response. the three buttons that indicate you’re typing suddenly go away, and he pouts, only to then be greeted by your voice close to his ear. “bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?”

“fuckin’—” it almost makes him jump and screech out of shock. “christ, don’t sneak up on me like that.”

you chuckle at his high-pitched reaction. “bad conscience?”

“no. you’re just scary.”

“thank you.” you grin with pride, moving to sit on the table, right beside his laptop. “you busy?”

“just going over some older lecture notes to prep for an exam.”

“wanna come over to my dorm?”

“fourth time this week. what’s gotten into you? well, aside from me, obviously.”

“hilarious. really.” you remark, watching him laugh at his own joke, unable to help the smile rising to your cheeks. “what can i say? it’s a great stress reliever.”

“i know. give me a sec and i’ll pack my things.”

as he closes up his laptop and textbooks, you look around the other tables — which are mostly empty, except for the one by the window, which is where you notice a girl shooting you a bit of a weird look once you make eye contact with her.

“mingyu.”

“hm?”

“the chick by the window with the shitty earrings. you know her?”

he subtly looks into the direction of said window, recognizing the girl from his advanced statistics class. “yeah, i have a class with her. can’t really remember her name though. why?”

“she likes you.”

“oh.” he just shrugs, continuing to zip up his bag, standing up from his seat. “i didn’t notice.”

“sure.” you chuckle sarcastically.

that makes him raise a brow. he feigns shock, causing you to look at him.

“what?”

“you’re jealous.”

“excuse me?” you monotonously ask, brows furrowing in disdain.

“it’s actually kinda hot.”

“oh, please. i have nothing to be jealous of.”

“and yet you are.”

“either you shut your ass up or i’ll find someone else to relieve my stress, kim.”

he laughs and you roll your eyes. then he slings his bag over his shoulder, his hands in his pockets as he follows you out of the study hall.

as soon as you’ve entered your dorm room, he’s got you pressed against the wall, nipping at your skin. he makes you feel sickeningly good, putting your former boyfriends to shame — you’re certainly not complaining.

once he’s done with you and you’re completely worn out, you lay with your head on his chest, his fingers softly stroking your naked back.

you seem more on edge than usual today. less playful. tired, even. his voice sounds hesitant when he speaks up. “is everything okay? you look stressed.”

“i’m fine.”

he figures you either don’t want to open up or you simply don’t feel comfortable doing so with him, so he chooses not to pry, opting to let you know he’s there for you. “okay. well, if you need anything, someone to talk to, you can always come to me.”

you frown a little. refusing to act impulsively, you swallow your words, not saying a thing.

mingyu takes your silence as his cue to leave you be. a feeling of unease creeps into his body, and the room suddenly feels smaller than before.

so he gently moves away from you, sitting up to put his clothes back on. “i should probably go. wonwoo will be pissed off if i don’t have the kitchen cleaned up once he gets back.”

he’s buttoning his jeans when you speak up behind him, admitting your reasons for feeling more stressed than usual. “i’ve got two exams next week. they’re extremely important, i have to pass them, i just… i can’t focus for some reason.”

when he turns around, you’re not facing him. he leans against the tabletop, looking at you. “anything in particular that’s bothering you?”

“i don’t know. it’s just…” you shrug your shoulders a little, unsure of how to explain it, “i guess i haven’t been feeling great in my own skin lately, even though i don’t actually have a reason for it.”

“maybe i can help you study. could work as a nice motivator.”

“gyu—” you chuckle a little to reject him politely, but he sees it coming at this point, persisting.

“why don’t we just try it? if you don’t feel like doing it again, then, fine. we can always just restrict our activities to solely physical stuff again.”

“do you even have the time to help me?”

he’s smiling, able to tell you’re thinking about it. “are you kidding? i can do anything.”

“always so humble.”

“yeah, that’s why you like me so much.” he laughs. “that’s why i’m your friend.”

“whatever makes you sleep at night.”

mingyu wasn’t kidding when he said he wanted to help you, nor when he mentioned he wanted you two to be closer.

he’s putting in effort to make you like him, that’s for sure. buying you coffees and snacks, offering to study with you whenever you mention difficult topics you have to cram for exams — he’s certainly establishing his presence in your daily life.

and you hate how easily you get used to it.

for whatever reason, you haven’t had sex since that day either. you’re pretty sure he wants to prove that he likes you for you and not just your body.

which is sweet. but you also have needs, and they’re worse now, knowing he can fulfill them extremely well, as he’s proved many times at this point.

so you text him to ask if he wants to come over later.

as he’s seated at a picnic table on the campus square, he notices your text, grabbing his phone to respond to you.

“your girlfriend texting you again?”

mingyu looks up at joshua, who’s sitting across from him with a pen in hand. he shakes his head. “not my girlfriend.”

“she might as well be.”

“she doesn’t like me enough to be.”

shua wouldn’t call himself nosy, but he’s determined to get a better idea of what exactly is going on between you. “what’s up with you and her?”

“it’s complicated.” his friend responds, eyes narrowing from the rays of sunlight. “i’m not even sure, honestly.”

joshua has this ability to pry people’s hearts open and let their feelings pour out without breaking a sweat — how easily he does it should be studied.

“are you friends with benefits or something? situationship?”

ironically, those words are the complete opposite of what you and him are. mingyu huffs out of frustration, voicing his thoughts. “she doesn’t like it when i call her my friend, she appears to have an exceedingly low daily quota of emotions, i’m busting my ass off to get my own assignments done and spend as much time with her as i can and i’m pretty sure she doesn’t even like me. at all. worst part being that i like her, shua. i like her.”

“have you told her you like her?”

“sort of. in a friendly way. she just glared at me.”

joshua finds mingyu’s inner torment a little amusing, but he feels for him. “maybe she’ll warm up to you. give it a while, she’s a tough nut to crack.”

“is she open with you?”

“sort of. i don’t think there’s a single soul out there she’s completely open with.” he sucks on the inside of his cheek for a second. “she has mentioned in the past that she’s actually very sensitive but just doesn’t, like, really express it. and you gotta keep in mind that people show love and affection differently. give it time.”

mingyu takes a breath as he thinks over the words.

give it time.

which he does. he notices you’re gradually getting closer to him over the course of time, still not showing too much — but it feels different. you choose to sit with him more often than not when you meet up with the other guys, you’re spending a lot of time with him, and you’re showing initiative to make time for him. every time he lands in your bed, it feels more intimate than ever.

you’re starting to make him feel like he matters to you. his crush on you is getting out of hand to the point he needs to stop himself from gazing at you every time you look him in the eye.

just like right now. you’re smiling at him over something he can’t remember — it’s a genuine smile, he cherishes those every time you flash him one as they’re rare — and you just look so pretty.

a text message from one of the guys on the football team pulls him out of it. which sparks an idea in him.

“hey, i have a football game coming up this saturday. do you wanna come? you could finally see me in action.” he asks. when he notices the puzzled look on your face, he tilts his head. “oh, come on. friendship works both ways, you know that, right? team effort and all that jazz.”

his wording makes you chuckle. “fine. i’ll be there.”

“you won’t regret it. our team is great.”

“really? then you better prove it. can’t be cheering for the losing team.”

with a raised brow, he points at you. “wanna bet?”

“what do you have in mind?”

he considers his options for a moment. “if my team wins, i get to choose what we do in bed next time. as long as you’re into it too, obviously. if the opposite team wins, you get to choose.”

now that’s an offer you’re certainly not gonna reject. taking on the challenge, you nod. “alright. deal.”

he shakes your hand ever so professionally, gathering his books since he needs to get to class. “oh, and, just so you know — my team’s won regional championships for the past two years in a row. i’m just saying.”

you tilt your head. he winks at you before walking away from the table, and you smile to yourself.

damn that asshole for making you like him this much.

saturday arrives, and you find yourself walking by the green football fields, surprised by the amount of people who showed up.

mingyu mentioned he was heading here earlier so you just told him you’d be there, sitting with the crowd.

it seems like it’s going to be a cold-weather match today. it’s already dark out, and the rain just started coming down from the sky. you’re glad the bleachers come with shade canopies so at least you won’t be soaked by the time the game is over.

your eyes are fixed on mingyu’s back as he stands by the sidelines with the rest of his team, enthusiastically discussing what’s most likely gonna be their strategy for the game.

then he turns around, still very engaged in the conversation, the wet strands of his hair framing his facial features. gosh, he’s incredibly handsome.

before running out onto the field, he looks back at the bleachers, scanning the masses before his eyes lock with yours.

he ever so dramatically makes a little heart with his fingers, teasingly motioning it towards you, and you put your middle finger up, making him laugh.

mingyu’s a real sweetheart, you have to admit. he’s growing on you.

watching the game is more fun than you anticipated. despite not being into football all that much, it’s great to watch the boys work together as well as they do.

you’re certainly not complaining when mingyu throws his vest on the bench halfway through the match, leaving him in a black compression shirt, emphasizing his strong figure.

shit. maybe you should watch him play more often.

it’s his team that seems to be on the winning side tonight — until the opposing team scores ten minutes before the end. both teams have the same score now, which is bad. ending with a draw would suck.

you’re now completely sucked into the game like the rest of the audience, desperate for mingyu’s team to score another goal.

the universe must be on their side today, because they do. three minutes left on the clock and none other than jeon wonwoo himself is able to kick the ball into the net, escaping the hands of the keeper.

it’s all yells of happiness on the field.

the referee blows his whistle to call the end of the game. everyone at your side of the bleachers stands up from their seats, yourself included, to cheer and clap for the boys, happy that they won the game.

you watch them congratulate eachother, some of their friends walking onto the field to do the same.

following the masses, you also leave your seat in the bleachers, walking down the stairs.

mingyu notices you coming his way and runs over to you, surprising you by lifting you up, giving you arguably the best hug you’ve ever had in your whole damn life. he holds onto you so tightly, his big arms and tall frame caging you in — in the best way possible.

when he gently puts you back down, his one hand briefly finds your cheek, which catches you off guard, but you don’t shy away from it.

he’s so tempted to just say fuck it and kiss you right now. you look so pretty, and your eyes — your eyes. he could stare into them forever and love every second of it.

but there’s too much at stake to get impulsive. “thanks for coming.”

“you’re welcome.” you blankly respond, making him smile a little.

“how did i do? good enough for your standards?”

you shrug at him, taking a brief look at his teammates celebrating in the distance behind him. “i was mostly focused on wonwoo, actually, but you were doing a good job too.”

he rolls his eyes before making a sarcastic comment. “you’re hilarious.”

“something i’m very aware of.”

he fake smiles at you, and you reciprocate the gesture, patting him on the shoulder.

“wanna go catch a drink with me?”

“don’t you wanna celebrate with the rest of the team?”

“not tonight.” he shakes his head. “i just gotta go get my bag. come with me?”

he intertwines his fingers with yours and you hardly notice it. which is bizarre if you consider how you had no relationship with him to begin with several months ago. “okay, yeah.”

you head to the men’s locker room with him, which is dark and empty. all the other guys are still out on the field, as you noticed when you were walking over here.

“the lights haven’t been working since yesterday, so watch your step.” mingyu tells you. the rays of moonlight coming through the high windows are enough to at least light up the room enough for you to see where you’re going.

you suddenly get an idea. “do you think the guys are gonna be out there for long?”

“they usually do. ten minutes, give or take.” he answers absentmindedly while taking his black duffel bag out of the locker with his name on it.

once he turns around, you push him back against the locker, taking him by the surprise, your finger pulling at the elastic waistband of his pants and boxers.

“i give credit where it’s due, you know.”

oh. oh. he only then understands what you’re getting at.

you always manage to make him a little nervous somehow — he lives for it. “in public? here? we could go back to your—oh, shit—”

you make him stutter the moment your hand moves underneath his clothes to take a hold of his dick. “but you’re already hard, gyu.”

christ. you’ve got some nerve, putting up that soft and sweet voice as if you’re not fucking responsible for getting him hard in the first place.

he doesn’t protest when you sink to your knees in front of him, pulling his boxers down his thick thighs, his cock springing free.

you grin a little to yourself before taking him in your mouth. he’s so hot like this, all hard and panting and begging.

“h—holy shit, that feels good.” he gasps, the warm sensation of your mouth making him go dizzy.

his hand moves to the back of your head. you take him as much as you can, using your hands for the part you can’t take. he slowly becomes a mess, his head resting against the locker.

you look up at him when he’s shamelessly moaning at the feeling of your tongue swirling around him, his hands subconsciously pushing your head just a little bit forward, making you take just that little bit more of his cock.

arousal begins to pool between your legs, and you suddenly curse yourself for choosing to wear jeans instead of a skirt tonight.

“fuck, fuck, baby—”

you release him with a pop, a mix of spit and his arousal coating your lips. “wanna taste everything. can’t make a mess here.”

it’s such a shame he’s still wearing his clothes. his stomach caves in so nicely whenever you’re sucking him off — like he can’t catch his breath. it’s the best thing you’ve ever seen.

his legs are trembling, and he’s embarrasingly close to his release already. “you don’t—ah—have to do this here if you don’t want to—”

“‘m not leaving ‘til you cum down my throat, gyu. you can do that, though, right?”

he nods, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, his voice all soft and submissive. he can’t help it. “yeah, yeah, i’ll do whatever you want, baby.”

“good boy.” you tell him, entirely unaware of the effect it has on him.

the moment you hollow your cheeks, it’s over for him. the salty taste of his release sits in your mouth before you swallow it, and his chest heaves while he pulls himself together.

both your eyes widen when you suddenly hear the voices outside getting closer, and mingyu knows it’s time to get the fuck out of here. he quickly pulls his pants back up, his bag in his one hand and your hand in the other as he drags you with him to take the back exit before anyone can notice either of you.

you both take a breather outside as you lean against the wall of the building before you burst into laughter together. he feels on top of fucking cloud nine, if he’s being truthful.

“you’re insane.” he laughs, looking to the side to find you laughing and blushing at the same time. “you’re blushing? after doing that? wow. who are you and what have you done with my friend?”

“you’re getting special treatment, you know. i don’t suck off my other friends.” you tease, shrugging your shoulders.

maybe he should consider pursuing a theatre career with the way he dramatically puts his hand over his heart. “does this mean i made it to friend level 2?”

“you did. now you’ve been downgraded back to level 1, though. what’re you gonna do about it?”

he plays along with you. “well, shit. can’t have that. we can go get a burger with fries at that place near campus. my treat?”

“sounds good.” the words have left your mouth and that big smile is right on his face again. you playfully push his shoulder, cheeks hurting from the smile on yours.

he’s getting closer to you than you anticipated, and that’s not a good thing, but for now, you tell yourself it’ll be fine. how much closer could he possibly get?

another month passes by when, for the first time in a while, mingyu doesn’t drop by your dorm. he doesn’t text, doesn’t call — and you find yourself worried about him.

it’s been nothing but complete radio silence from his end, which isn’t a good sign.

you’ve already left him several voicemails when chan lets you know he’s been having a terrible fever for the past two days. it leaves you with the urge to go and check up on him, so once you’ve had all your classes for the day, you find yourself knocking on his door.

it takes a moment for him to answer it, wonwoo seemingly not present in the dorm.

when mingyu opens the door, surprise is painted across his face, the heavy bags under his eyes making him seem awfully tired. shit, you hope you didn’t wake him. he’s wearing a plain white shirt with thin black pyjama pants, his hair an utter mess.

the surprise on his face is gone once you open your mouth. “you look like shit.”

he snorts at your words. “would you say that to me if i were on my deathbed, too?”

“absolutely.”

he smiles at your attitude, finding it strangely refreshing. “wanna come in? i promise i’ll stay at a distance so you won’t get it.”

you didn’t think he was going to invite you in, but you accept the offer nonetheless. “i was wondering why you didn’t call. then chan told me you were sick.”

he shuts the door behind you. “yeah, i’ve been sleeping, mostly. watched some netflix too but it quickly gives headaches. i’m sorry for not letting you know — didn’t think you were worried.”

you pause for a moment. “well. you thought wrong. friends worry, don’t they?”

the words make him smile. he didn’t think you cared all that much about him for some reason — this changes that. “fair. what’s in the bowl?”

he’s referring to the black bowl covered in foil you have clutched between your arms. you shrug. “soup. i don’t know if you already had some, but it worked wonders for me when i was sick a while back, so… yeah. i figured you could use it.”

his face lights up when he realizes you went out your way to make this for him. with gratitude, he accepts the bowl. “thank you, i appreciate it. looks really good. you can sit by my desk if you want to, by the way.”

as he’s walking across the room, you notice the mishap in his steps, like he’s about to lose his balance. “are you okay?”

“yeah, ‘s just—i’m a little dizzy.”

your hands find his shoulders — a touch that feels heavy compared to the usual skin-to-skin contact you share with him — to put him down on his bed. “don’t force it. if you’re about to faint, you might as well be lying down.”

his lids hang low, eyes nearly closed when you pull the covers over his body. you touch his cheeks and forehead with the back of your hand to get an indication of his temperature.

as soon as you’re about to tell him he probably has a light fever, it seems he’s already half asleep. you pull the covers up to his chest to ensure he’s comfortable.

you gaze at him for a moment as he snores softly, biting your lip as you curse yourself for giving him a treatment he doesn’t deserve.

maybe mingyu likes to think he doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, but that’s far from the truth. even you have noticed he’s been looking at you a certain way recently, and that’s saying something.

one look at him and you’re already feeling like a big softie. it’s ridiculous.

you’re scared of what you feel for him, but as long as you can keep your relationship like this, it’ll be fine.

now that he’s asleep, you wander around his room. you know wonwoo must be at football practice, since mingyu is normally there with him at this time of the week.

you usually take him to your dorm, so you’re not in his all that often. your eyes rake across the framed pictures of his friends, family, loved ones, memories he’s made.

they stop, though, when recognizing yourself in one of the pictures. he promised you he’d frame one up as a way of ‘solidifying your friendship’ as he so politely put it.

still, you didn’t think he’d actually do it.

smiling to yourself, you proceed to notice his laptop screen is still on. he must’ve been working on something when you knocked on his door.

out of curiosity, you check the screen, figuring he was working on the essay he’s been postponing for two weeks because he had difficulty getting started.

you take a look at the assignment and decide you’re gonna try to do it for him. luckily, the necessary paragraphs that ought to be studied beforehand and referenced in the essay itself came with the mail, so that makes everything a lot easier.

when mingyu wakes up hours later, he finds himself alone in his room. you’re gone, though he notices the glass of water on his nightstand has been refilled, his laptop is flipped open, and there’s a sticky note attached to it.

slowly, he rubs his eyes and moves toward the desk to grab the laptop before sitting back against the pillows.

you must’ve written something on the note, he figures.

‘hopefully the essay is up to the standards of your class. i did it in a separate document so you can just get rid of the whole thing if it’s not what you want it to be. let me know if you need anything else. x’

he frowns, turning the device on to see what you worked on — and the screen lights up, only for him to realize you wrote the essay due for tomorrow. and with a few of his own additions here and there, it’s good enough to submit, which is impressive for someone who’s not actually taking the class.

and right now, all he can do is smile at his screen like an idiot.

you’re at the university skating rink when you hear someone calling your name from the bleachers.

looking up with a frown, you suddenly notice a tall man sprinting your way, so you skate towards him. “mingyu, what the hell are you doing here?”

“i got 87/100 for the essay. for the one class i hate. you’re a genius.” he exclaims, absolutely beaming at you.

you suddenly remember doing the essay for him, snorting at his reaction. “so i’ve heard. good to see you’re doing better.”

“is there anything i can do in return?”

“don’t worry. i like writing essays. besides, you already helped me out plenty of times. it was the least i could do.”

the words coming out of your mouth hardly match your facial expression, but he finds he’s gotten used to it now. he understands you better than ever before. “you know how you said i’d get nothing out of a friendship with you?” he recalls, biting his lip for a moment, “you were wrong.”

a mere chuckle escapes you. “right. you get top-notch essays and bowls of chicken soup.”

your comment was sarcastic, but he remains serious. “you’re wonderful, you know that?”

it’s not often people use a word like that to describe you. it feels weird hearing it, but your attitude remains the same. “am i?”

“yeah, you are,” he nods, pushing out more compliments, “and i’m glad to have you in my life.”

the playful expression on your face falters — like a glitch occurring in your system. mingyu is starting to break through your hard exterior remarkably easily, and that’s beginning to scare you a little.

he leaves without saying another word, but the look on his face is enough to tell that he’s feeling the tension too. whatever relationship you have is becoming more intimate by day, most definitely passing the friendship it was supposed to be, and to you, that is very alarming.

and you suddenly refuse to let it go any further.

whenever he texts you, you either tell him you don’t have the time to come over or nothing at all. you avoid him like the plague, ensure not to go to social gatherings if he’s going be there and stay well away from all the places you and him studied together. it hurts, because you do miss him, yet you manage to keep it up.

but you can only do so much. unfortunately, mingyu is smarter than you hoped.

after two weeks of you avoiding him, he decides he’s had enough.

when you’re almost about to leave the dorm for your lecture, you hear someone knocking on your door. you open it to find him standing there, and he walks right by you, not bothering to ask whether he can come in.

“why have you been avoiding me?”

“i gotta leave for my lecture, i don’t have time for this.”

“so make the time.” he says sternly, jaw clenched. “answer the question.”

“i haven’t been avoiding you.”

“sure. so it’s a coincidence you suddenly stopped talking to me?”

you huff in frustration and close the door, leaning with your back against it. “no, it isn’t.”

he raises his hands in defeat. “so, why?”

“it’s been fun. i don’t know. but you’ve proved what you wanted to prove, so… good for you. we can both move on now.” you shrug, hardly sounding convinced of your own words.

“you’re lying.” he breathes out, scoffing to himself. he’s baffled that you think he’d consider it believable at all. “four months ago, i would’ve bought that. but not now.”

“believe what you wanna believe. i don’t really care.” you give him the cold shoulder, attempting to open the door so you can leave, but he immediately shuts it to stop you from doing so.

“don’t bullshit me. you care. i don’t know why the fuck you’re so hellbent on not admitting that, but it’s the truth.”

he’s beginning to get on your nerves. “what fucking answers are you even here for? since you claim to know everything that’s going on inside my head already.”

it’s then that he starts to show how genuinely upset he is at you pushing him away. “what makes me so different from the other guys? joshua, seokmin, chan—all of them. why is it so easy for you to be close with them but not with me?”

“because you keep trying to get closer to me! from day one, you’ve been saying you wanna be friends with me like the rest of them, but your actions don’t line up with that.”

“so what? i like you and i’m pretty damn sure you like me too.” his voice is softer, face closer to yours, those brown eyes of his working their way straight to your heart. “what are you so afraid of?”

either you’re imagining things or he’s leaning in to kiss you. his lips are so close before you feel them on yours, a sensation you missed like nothing else.

your fingers touch the back of his neck. it’s hard not to get lost in the feeling of his mouth on yours, the smell of his cologne making it even harder.

kissing mingyu is the closest you’ll ever get to heaven, but right now, all it’s making you feel is guilt and shame.

so you pull yourself away from him, breaking the kiss, hands feeling heavy on his chest. “close the door on your way out.” you whisper, leaving him alone in your dorm.

he stands perplexed in his place for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose, processing what just happened.

“fuck.”

it’s been a week, and he hasn’t called nor texted you since that conversation. you assume that he’s decided to move on.

which is understandable. if you were him, you’d be done with it too.

it feels strange to be going about your day without him dropping by or talking to you. like he left a void you’re unable to fill. and it hurts — you miss him.

you’re having lunch with seokmin and minghao in the cafeteria when he’s suddenly standing in front of you by the table. “i just got a call from the gallery manager — we’ve got it to ourselves this friday evening!”

minghao smiles widely, the sweet sound of his excited laughter intriguing the rest of you. he turns his head to explain. “me and mingyu have been trying to rent the gallery to put our work on display. apparently, it was just confirmed we managed to pull it off.”

hao is a passionate painter — mingyu a photographer. their love for art is one of the things that binds them together, and they’ve mentioned wanting to have their own exhibit for a few months now. despite the things that have happened, you’re happy for them.

“that’s great! we can come, right?” seokmin asks, already grabbing his phone to put it in his agenda.

“yeah, you guys better.” minghao answers, his gaze shifting to you. “you have to come too. you’re free, right?”

he’s aware of things between you and mingyu being tense right now — though he doesn’t know why — but he still thinks it’d be good for you and him to see each other.

your eyes meet mingyu’s for the first time since your last conversation a week ago, and hao follows your actions, looking at him as well.

mingyu subtly looks away, hoping his friend didn't catch him staring at you. before he can utter the words he wants to say, you tilt your head, already speaking up. “sure. i'll be there.”

he unintentionally gives you a puzzled look, and you pop a piece of gum in your mouth, looking at your wrist as if there’s a watch there.

there isn’t. “won’t you look at the time. i’ll see you guys later.”

they briefly say bye to you, very much used to the way you dismiss yourself, and mingyu watches the interaction as if it’s the first time witnessing it — as if he hasn’t known you to be like this for several months.

he watches you walk out of the cafeteria, confronted by his two friends staring at him. “what?”

“you’re deep in it.” minghao remarks. “when are you guys finally gonna admit that you wanna be together?”

“it’s not that easy.”

seokmin frowns, connecting the dots before gasping. “wait. you and her are a thing? since when? why didn’t anyone tell me this?”

the other two just deadpan a stare at him.

on friday night, you attend the art exhibit. you know he’s been working hard on the collection, and you certainly figured you were gonna be confronted with mingyu as well, but this is one gathering you couldn’t afford to miss. so you choose to try and forget the drama for one night.

you’re wearing a little black dress with lacy tights and sleek ankle boots, an outfit you feel nice in.

the gallery is buzzing with friends of the artists as well as people who frequent the place whenever a new exhibit is up. perhaps some pieces will be sold tonight.

as you’re passing some of mingyu’s framed photos, you hear his familiar voice behind you.

“i was surprised when you agreed to come.”

when you turn your head, he’s standing there with his hands in the pockets of his fitted black pants, the deep cut of his white blouse exposing just a bit more of his upper chest than usual, a silver chain sitting all pretty on his neck and collarbones.

personally, you find it’s relatively rare to find men with good taste in fashion, but he’s definitely got it. he looks good. really good.

biting your lip, you give him nothing but a cool response. “came to see if you were any good.”

“and? what’s your judgement?”

“haven’t made up my mind yet.” your tone turns into a more teasing one, seeing as he appears considerably less hostile than you. “does my judgement really matter that much, though?”

he nods so quickly, almost as if he were hypnotized by you. “more than you know.”

him showing you affection actually makes your heart shatter. he’s so genuine in it too — and you just don’t know what to do with all that love he so easily gives you.

people pass you left and right, completely unaware of the heavy feeling currently bubbling inside your chest. you’re crumbling under his gaze and he fucking feels it.

and this situation is precisely the one thing you were so afraid of. you know he knows how to poke into your heart, he knows when you’re lying to him, he knows when you’re upset or hurt — and the idea that there’s someone out there who can see all of that just by looking at you utterly terrifies you.

in moments like these, your expression doesn’t gradually change. it falls hard and quick, sometimes very visibly, just like right now. the blank stare is gone, your lips parting, eyes blinking erratically — it’s like you received a slap to the face.

“your photography is beautiful, mingyu. you’re talented, but you didn’t need me to tell you that.” your voice breaks in the middle of your sentence and you leave him behind, heading into the ladies’ room, hoping he won’t follow you.

you exhale when he doesn’t.

knowing it’s way too early to leave, you pull yourself together, and once you get out of the bathroom, you make it your mission to avoid him for the rest of the night. if that means talking to god knows how many new people, so be it.

minghao’s paintings are beautiful. you’re in awe of his talent as you walk past his artworks, admiring each of them.

as the evening nears its end, the artist himself comes up to you with that gentle smile he often wears. “so, what do you think? do i have potential?”

“are you kidding? you’ve got more than just potential. these are gorgeous. you should be proud of them.”

he thanks you, his hands sitting in the pockets of his trousers. “what’d you do to mingyu?”

you cross your arms over your chest. “why’re you assuming i did something?”

“because he’s been looking like a kicked puppy for the past few weeks, and i heard you and him suddenly stopped hanging out, so...”

taking a deep breath, you shake your head to yourself. “honestly, i’m not even sure what happened between us. it came out of nowhere.”

minghao keeps his eyes on you even when you look away. “he came out of nowhere and you started liking him.”

the comment makes your eyes widen, but you don’t bother hiding the truth from him. he might be the most trustworthy guy you know. “yeah. so i pushed him away.”

he’s aware of your fear of letting people in beyond a certain extent. “what did he do?”

you could cry, honestly. your face is blank — your voice trembles. “he said he was happy to have me in his life. god, i’m so fucking insecure.”

hao softly rubs over your shoulder blade for a second, a gesture you appreciate. he shrugs. “you’re not obligated to do something you don’t wanna do. but talking about it is better than leaving it unsaid. gyu’s a good guy. he’ll understand it, but only if you give him the chance to.”

with that sentiment, he leaves you be, and you rub your arms, staring at the painting that’s currently in front of you, only to realize it’s about two lovers.

there’s a thin line between laughing and crying. you feel like you’re somewhere in the middle right now.

“christ, i need a fucking drink.” you mutter to yourself, running a hand through your hair.

“mind if i join you?”

of course. why are you even surprised?

without looking him in the eye, you respond to his question with one of your own. “sure you want my company?”

“beats going drinking alone.” mingyu shrugs next to you.

you let out a sarcastic chuckle at that. “whatever you say.”

luckily for you, the nearest bar is around the block. the walk there is quiet. you’re not sure what to say to him, and you feel him subtly looking your way.

he holds the door open for you to go in first. the place is not all that crowded yet, only a few tables occupied, probably because it’s still relatively early in the evening.

since no one else is seated by the bar top, you choose to head to one of the high stools there, ordering two shots of vodka before even sitting down.

the bartender puts two shot glasses in front of you and pours the liquid in both until they’re completely filled. mingyu looks at you as he picks up the small glass, and you just lightly tilt your head as a toast.

his facial expression is as bitter as the alcohol burning in his throat. he hates the way you look at him — like you don’t give a fuck about him.

you look down at your glass. you still haven’t exchanged a single word since leaving the gallery. what the hell are you even supposed to say? you didn’t want to be here with him in the first place.

liar. the little voice in your head creeps in.

the silence feels as painful as trailing your nails down a chalkboard. surprisingly, it’s you who ends up speaking first.

“if you’re trying to make the situation more awkward, you’re succeeding.”

“i’m just trying to find the words. don’t know where to start.”

your voice is hostile and sharp as a blade. “then don’t.”

of course you’re aware you’re being mean. but it’s to serve a purpose. every time you show this side of you, people always leave. better sooner than later, right?

mingyu, instead of feeling insulted by your attitude, looks at you as if he’s deciphering a puzzle. “i will. because i care.”

that makes you remain quiet. you just scoff instead, not knowing what to say next. he shifts in his seat to be able to look at him better — you do the exact opposite, turning your face away from him.

“can i ask you something?”

you don’t actually respond, save for the blank stare you give him. which he takes as a yes.

“you not showing much… is it a front you put up or something you just do?”

an interesting question — one you actually have to think about. “the latter. having a resting bitch face doesn’t really help my case, i guess. but i also enjoy keeping people in the dark a bit. can’t have everyone showing everything.”

“why not?”

blinking at him for a moment, you gently smile at him. it’s not a genuine one. “do you wanna know why you feel at a disadvantage right now?”

“because your alcohol tolerance is better than mine?”

“because you can’t tell what i’m thinking.”

he then puts his chin up to look at you better. you tilt your head a little, as if you were following his gaze, and he feels like he’s on the right track here.

“maybe i kinda like that disadvantage.” he suggests, but you shake your head knowingly.

“no, you don’t.”

“how would you know?”

you suck at the inside of your cheek for a moment, taking a breath. “my mom once said to me that it bothered her she couldn’t tell what i was thinking.” you pout your lips as if you’re thinking about it. “i told her i liked that. being an open book is my worst nightmare.”

“why?”

“putting your thoughts and feelings on display make you vulnerable. being vulnerable makes you weak.”

“so you think it’s better to isolate your feelings completely — discuss them with no one? ever?”

“unless it’s necessary, yes. besides, feelings aren’t black and white. do you know how difficult it is to convey them through words, let alone getting the person at the other end of the line to actually understand them?”

mingyu looks—no, gazes at you. “how will you know if you don’t try?”

“how do you know i haven’t? you think you’re the first person who’s tried to get close to me like this?” you ask, tilting your head. “speaking of which, i’ve been having a real hard time trying to figure out what it is you want from me. i’m not buying the whole ‘i-just-wanna-be-friends’ façade. never did. i thought it was the sex, but i initiated it more often than you did.”

“it wasn’t for the sex.” he shrugs his shoulders. “i like you.”

“so you’ve mentioned. since when?”

“since… always.”

“we never even talked before soonyoung’s party.”

“no, but i liked you.”

“bullshit.” you fire back at him, scoffing sarcastically. “i’m hardly likeable — nothing i’m insecure about. just a plain fact.”

“and yet i like you a lot. must be shocking.” he jests, the vaguest hint of a rising smirk on his face. “do you like me?”

“i can’t stand you,” you reach out to push his chin upwards so he looks up at you, only realizing how physically comfortable you’ve become with him after doing so, “but at least you’ve got a pretty face to make up for it.”

it’s unbelievable, mingyu thinks to himself. the way you keep teasing him, keep being a little mean to him, and he just eats it all up.

every moment he spends with you has him wondering what on earth it is about you that draws him in so much.

but, fuck, he just can’t get enough.

another shot is poured into your glasses, which you take between your thumb and index finger, nodding at him so he’ll take his.

the liquid burns in his throat, making him feel hot, and you get awfully turned on when you notice the way he wipes off the drops that accidentally ran down his chin.

“i think i’ve got you all figured out.”

his bold statement and matching attitude has you raising your shoulders. “oh yeah? go on. try me, i’m curious.”

the words tumble from his lips as if they’re part of a monologue he’s been rehearsing for weeks. “you feel so much, express so little. i bet it must be hard to keep up with your own mind sometimes. i think you often feel judged and misunderstood because of your attitude, but you don’t mind that much, since you prefer a smaller circle anyways. you simply don’t like wearing your heart on your sleeve, but it’d be a big mistake to think you don’t have one — and honestly, i’d do anything to be close to it.”

it’s not often you’re speechless.

he describes you almost perfectly, and your body language subconsciously changes, confident and playful demeanor gone — the cold and distant side of your personality coming out again.

“good job,” you tell him softly, moving to grab a few bucks from your wallet to pay for the drinks, “i guess i should say congratulations. you know what makes me tick. that means we’re done here, right?”

he finally spots the shift in your behavior. “wait—”

“have a good night, gyu.”

you curse yourself for accidentally using the nickname as you walk out of the bar, putting your coat on, feeling raindrops on your hair and skin once you get outside.

as you’re trying to make yourself remember where the nearest metro stop is, you hear him utter your name behind you. “what did i do? was it something i said?”

letting impulsivity get to you for once, you scoff, muttering a response. “it was everything you said.”

“why?” he asks, the tension running thicker. “why won’t you just let me in, for once? just this time?”

you hate how desperate he sounds — you hate how much it’s tugging at your heartstrings.

“why do you even want me to?”

“‘cause i like you.”

“no, you don’t. you just like whatever chase this is, just a little fun to keep things interesting for you.”

“has it ever crossed your mind that maybe i like you for you?”

“i’ve given you no reason to like me.”

“what, you think that no one out there will like you unless you act differently?”

his words feel like a growing tear in your heart. your self-esteem is so ridiculously low that it makes you believe no one would love you if you were to be unapologetically yourself — and hearing someone say it out loud hurts.

mingyu watches as the emotion flashes through your eyes, one of the few glimpses of what you feel underneath that cold exterior.

“it’s not true,” he says before you attempt to answer, “because you… being around you makes me happy. when i’m not with you, i think of when i’ll see you next. you matter to me.”

you’re not sure what’s worse — the fact that you reciprocate his feelings or the words that are coming out of your mouth.

“you’d do best to try and get rid of that feeling.”

but he knows there’s more lingering behind your words. “tell me you don’t feel the same way.”

“what i feel means nothing.” you state, voice laced with hurt, though not from his words. “let it go.”

“why don’t you wanna try?”

“because it’d be a disaster. for both of us.”

“c’mon,” he pleads, gently touching your fingers, “please don’t push me away.”

“god—i have my reasons, mingyu.”

“then explain them to me!”

“i can’t give you what you want!” you cry out, needing him to understand you. “someone like you just doesn’t work with someone like me. it might sound stupid, but it’s the truth. i wouldn’t tell you i love you, i’m fucking—bitter and cynical, if not misanthropic, i like my own peace and quiet, i fucking hate talking about what i feel — and you are the complete opposite. i’d make you miserable. you’d grow to hate me.”

“no, i wouldn’t.”

“you would. you... i do like you. i don’t know what the hell you did, like—it’s bizarre how much i’ve grown to like you. but at the end of the day, we’d never work, because i cannot give you the love that you deserve. i know you. you want someone spontaneous, easygoing, sociable — those are all traits that i don’t have. i wish i did, but that’s just how i’m engineered. we wouldn’t work.”

“how do you even know that?”

“i’ve had two boyfriends before this. both broke things off with me ‘cause i didn't show love the way they were used to, and even when they called it quits, i didn’t show a thing. because i don’t do that. no matter how often i say it, no one ever appears to understand what they’re getting themselves into when they get close to me, so i’m telling you now. this? you and me?” you ask, finger pointing between the two of you. “we’d be idiots to try.”

“fine. then consider me an idiot.” he breathes out, just barely registering how close he’s standing to you. “i’m willing to try. please.”

the crease between your brows is the sign of your inner conflict. “i’m sick of getting hurt. sick of people making me feel like my feelings aren’t valid solely because i don’t like expressing them.”

“i’m not gonna hurt you. we can take things slow.”

“gyu—” you plead, almost like you’re begging him to stop tearing your walls down despite knowing he won’t.

and perhaps the other part of you does want to let him in. it’s so scary, so tempting.

“i don’t wanna lose you.”

he adores you so much — it’s ridiculous. “you won’t lose me. please…” he touches your fingers so gently, getting closer to you as you barely make an effort to push him away, “please let me in.”

his heartbeat rises when you look him in the eye — he wonders how the hell a person so strong can look so afraid. but he’s determined to show that you have no reason to be anymore.

it’s raining even harder now. instead of backing you up against the wall, he takes a few steps away from you as if he’s leaving, only for him to turn around and gesture for you to come with him.

mingyu’s smile shines even in the heavy downpour — a bright light that balances out your dull one.

he extends his hand, and you finally get over the edge of your fear, finally able to take control of your own body and slide your hand in his.

you and kim mingyu shouldn’t work — perhaps that’s exactly the reason why you do.

thank you for reading. let me know if you enjoyed it x

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

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