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caitlinbueckers · 4 months

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take care.

caitlin clark x reader type beat PART 2!!!!!!!!

6.2k (what the fuck)

ok. Listen!!!!!! This is long time coming and also is a disgusting amount of words and dialogue and like weird subtextual angst masked with smut honestly it’s pure delusion on a page also ending only slightly abrupt bc it was unfathomably long sorry

wasn’t gonna make the sequel so in depth like ??? How’d this one shot turn into a fic 😐 no Clue but all i know is that insecure sort of self deprecative caitlin clark with this soft dominance of a reader combined with two bitches who won’t admit their feelings is my crack!!!! let me know if a part 3 is even needed or if yall even care teehee

no beta simply just vibes

ANYWAYYZZZZZ love u guys sorry that i suck!!!

two weeks.

it had been two weeks since you’d texted that number with your name, a simple contact, and she’d liked the message, and that was it.

it wasn’t like things immediately changed— you still, somehow, made your flight despite the throbbing headache that reverberated in your skull, and you still were able to make sure you didn’t leave a toothbrush or a stray apple watch charger in the hotel room but, miraculously, you find a way to not mention a single thing about your one night stand until you touch down at home; manchester, connecticut.

you tell your friends all about it— probably missing some implied understanding about nda’s— and pretend like it isn’t that big of a deal that one of the biggest basketball players for women’s college wasn’t knuckles deep inside of you only the night before.

but it’s a big deal. and you know it is.

like her breath, fierce and rampant with each spellbinding curl of her fingers, wasn’t startlingly still replaying in your mind, her mouth soaking in each warm, huff of air that you expelled in the form of a moan. like she hadn’t watched as she fucked you, dark eyes somehow impossibly darker as her biceps flexed, the line of thick, corded veins that traveled her muscular arms somehow jumping with each pump of her fingers inside of you.

that the same, somehow blushing girl that stood in the elevator had regarded you like something to be challenged, like something she could fight for. something she could win.

you didn’t forget a single thing. not in the way she leaned down over you as her fingers quickened their pace, the force of it eliciting grunts from caitlin’s mouth as she tore you apart, piece by piece, licking the remains as her teeth grazed over a nipple, the sensitive jut of your collarbone.

“so pretty,” she’d murmured against your skin, almost absently, like she didn’t even realize she’d said it. “you like that?” obviously, it went without saying that you did (very much), but really, you’d learned that she wanted to hear you say it. it was in the same way that - as she’d recounted to you drunkenly in a hotel bar that night - she needed to hear the audience cheer. that the fans hollering and shouting was when she felt like she was on fire. it was the external validation that urged her forth, amped her up, kept her alight.

somehow, you could see exactly how it applied to her then, her eyes quick to scan over your face— your lips, to kiss them, before she’d ask again, urgently, “you like how i fuck you? huh? tell me.”

you’d nodded furiously, words tumbling past your trembling lips, “y-es, fuck, yes—“ god, it would’ve been impossible to pull more than a few words from you with how wrought you are, body unrelentingly tense, shaking and weak until she’d coaxed another orgasm out of you, her name sounding broken on your tongue as her fingers slow, the unrelenting grind from the heel of her hand finally relaxing to ride you through it.

she was unforgivingly good with her fucking hands, you’d come to realize.

and yet, beyond all of that, much to your friends dismay, you don’t call her.

no, in fact, you mute her name on twitter and block the IOWA womens basketball page because it becomes suddenly like a frenzy. she’s everywhere, more than usual, like some sick sign from the universe and as much as it seems almost the complete opposite of how you really feel, you decide that you can never see her again.

it’s not like the sex wasn’t phenomenal, or that when it’s late and your hand sneaks into your pants, your imagination doesn’t always seems to conjure up tall, pretty girls with brown hair and green eyes, or that she didn’t completely captivate you from the moment she’d looked at you, dumbfounded and sheepish in an elevator with a blush staining her cheeks.

it wasn’t that. in fact, it was the complete opposite.

it was because the moment you’d seen a picture of her online after the fact, looking tougher than you knew she was, you’d realized that the last place you’d seen her was from between your legs, and it felt like a fucking soul crush.

because she was beautiful, and smiling, and playing up that celebrity, all-star mentality that you knew she could back up, but that you realized wasn’t her in the slightest. because now, you knew her— sort of— and saw her in ways that nobody else had— that you knew of. more so, that she’d learned your body in the span of a night and then just left, and somehow that just wasn’t fucking fair.

there was a shroud of mystery that surrounded her, even if she belonged to the world, to her supposed boyfriend, to everyone, really— way more than she ever belonged to you, even if just for a night.

so you go on about your life, and you pretend you don’t notice the draft is coming, or that soon, the already well known athlete was gonna be world renowned, taking her biggest leap to play professional, and you’d be nothing to her, nothing but the girl she’d screwed in a hotel room when she’d gotten too drunk after the final four.

and sure, you find solace in it. but there’s also this lingering, nagging feeling of being unfinished, like there’s still more. there has to be more.

so, no, you don’t call her.

but, somehow, you find last-minute tickets for the draft— which, in the grand scheme of things isn’t completely selfish. the moment you’d seen nika muhl and aaliyah edwards up for the league, you’d known that you were going to try for tickets. you just, probably, maybe, weren’t actually expecting to hookup with the projected top number one draft pick, either.

but you did, so, you buy them anyway.

you let your friends tease you for picking a dress that’s sorta slutty and for spending more time than you should doing your makeup at whatever hotel you picked in boston, only a few blocks from the draft.

all in all, it goes exactly how you expect. caitlin gets number one draft, which only slightly makes you antsy in your seat, thinking about the fact that she doesn’t know you’re there, that she doesn’t know you saw her win big and that she possibly could’ve been thinking about anyone fucking else. your favorites, nika muhl and aaliyah edwards, get teams that you’re more than happy to celebrate, and watch paige bueckers and azzi fudd get shoutout after shoutout. it’s good, it’s fun— but fuck it.

you think you miss her. maybe just her fingers, or her mouth, but you realize in a weird swell of recognition as the guests are ushered out, your head spinning back every few moments to see if you can catch a glimpse of her, that you do.

you miss the cait you’d met— you just didn’t know the one that sat in the room now.

then, it’s all sorta funny, in a way, considering the situation you find yourself in once everyone begins to disperse, limos and SUV’s pulled up and parked outside of the venue, crowds of fans standing around the barricades to sit for their favorite athletes to pile out of the doors, to go to some super elite, exclusive party that you knew you had no place at.

you don’t expect any special treatment, and you don’t expect a text or a call— which is good, because they don’t come.

no, actually, they don’t come until later.

later, after you’d spent the rest of the night in a nearby bar with a couple of girls you’d met leaving the draft. they’re funny and they’re nice, gushing about the picks, talking miles a minute about all their favorites and making you pretend that the tequila doesn’t burn just a tiny bit more when they mention caitlin’s name.

it doesn’t come until you’re showered, dressed in sweats and pleasantly drunk, scrolling through the shitty channels when your phone buzzes once, then twice, then three times and it almost makes you click the lock button, shove it over in assumption of your friends bothering you about an unsuccessful night to woo a pro athlete— but then it happens again.

you can’t really decipher what makes you look at the random assortment of numbers and it suddenly click. maybe it was because you’d spent the past few weeks in a complete back and forth, scanning over a crumpled napkin with the name ‘cait’ and these specific numbers beside it.

you know who it is, and despite yourself, your heart catches in your throat.

“hello?”

“you made it.” her voice is deeper than you remember, and it doesn’t fail to make your cheeks burn almost immediately. fuck.

“huh?” you play dumb, mostly because it’s more embarassing to admit that you’d came all this way for this, for the slim possibility that she’d fucking notice.

“tonight, i mean. you- i didn’t know— i didn’t know you were coming.” you stay silent, because what else is there to say? had she seen you?

but she continues, “you should’ve told me.” and then, “i, uh— i would’ve liked to see you.”

she’s pathetic, and so are you. a hand comes up to shove back your hair from your face, breath increasing only slightly. “i have a hotel, like, smack in the middle of boston if you’re… like, if this is an offer.”

now, she’s silent. there’s a shuffle on the other end, a murmur of a voice that you don’t recognize, before she’s back, her voice closer, softer. “yeah. yeah, i’d, uh, i’d like that.”

you open your mouth to say something, probably alcohol fueled and embarassed, but she’s speaking now, a bit quicker, “just text me, yeah?”

then the phone clicks, and for half a second, you stare at the home screen as if this couldn’t possibly be fucking real.

but it is, miraculously, and god, it makes you kind of fucking horny to think that she’s willing to see you at half past three in the morning, so your fingers fly over the keyboard in record time— a pin being dropped through imessage with a confirmed ping.

it’s fucking go time after that.

you find the lacy, practically nonexistent underwear you’d brought, forgo a bra entirely, and try to find something a little less boring than your sweatsuit, before you realize with a sickening realization that the revealing dress you’d worn for the draft was the outfit you’d expected to see her in, and as much as you cared, you kinda fucking didn’t— she’d been inside of you, by now. clothing didn’t seem as pressingly urgent as it would otherwise.

it’s only about twenty minutes before she texts you, a simple ‘here’. you send a brief message, just the number of your hotel room, and pretend like your heart doesn’t practically pound out of your chest for each passing moment, eyes flickering from the door, to the window outside, the city bustling even at a time like this.

she knocks only twice, and it startles you enough that it takes your breath away.

the moment the door swings open, it’s like a wave of calm washes over you, a weird sense of solace that you hadn’t realized she could offer, mostly due to the fact that before you stood the caitlin you’d remembered from all those weeks ago, after final four. not the exquisitely dressed, superstar you’d seen earlier that night, in shades and clothing that you could never afford with an attitude you didn’t recognize.

instead, she stands before you at her startling height, in sneakers, sweats and a windbreaker, a hood over her head and her hands tucked into her pockets. once again, looking impossibly small for someone of her stature and it takes all that’s within you to not kiss her right there.

“you got here quick.” you mention, still only slightly breathless as she offers a smile that resembles more of a smirk than anything else.

“i was scared you’d fall asleep,” and it sounds as sheepish as it makes you feel.

you step back, let her walk in and inhabit the space, only slightly making your palms sweat to have her here, in front of you again.

you decide to take the initiative to plop onto the bed, looking up at her as you toy with a stray string from your hoodie, “i wasn’t gonna fall asleep,” you retort, looking up at her, catching a glance that you don’t break, “congrats on top draft pick.”

now, she’s blushing, shaking her head and pursing her lips, “still feels unreal, dude.” she murmurs, looking down at her feet before slowly, her movements unsure, she sinks onto the bed next to you. “you’re unreal.” you say quietly, smirking at her, because you know how she’d cringe at it, scrunches her face before shaking her head. “god, not by a long shot.”

you open your mouth to say something else, maybe tease her about it, but she clears her throat quietly, “but i don’t, uh- wanna talk about that right now?” she offers a mirthless laugh, “is that stupid?”

she turns to look at you, and it happens to only be a couple centimeters from your face once you look up, shake your head “then we don’t have to.” you agree quietly, and it’s impossible to miss the way her eyes flicker down at your lips, back up to your face, and it’s equally as impossible to ignore the flip you get in your stomach before you surge forward to kiss her.

she kisses the same, tastes like what you remember, if not marked by whatever cocktails she must’ve had, whatever liquor still sat on your own breath, and it washes over you greedily that you do fucking want her— more than whatever you tried to convince yourself of during the past two weeks, more than what you’d downplayed to your friends.

“been thinking about you,” it comes out rushed, murmured against caitlin’s lips, shakily from your own mouth as she lets out a slow, wanton breath. you turn to crawl up on your knees, swinging over her hips to push her back against the bed.

she makes a noise like it stems from disbelief, almost like denial, but doesn’t pull away, not even once as her hands, fingers long and palms wide, spread beneath your sweatshirt, span across the expanse of your back and grasp.

“i did,” you insist between breathless kisses, foreheads pressed together hard as her hand races up the front now, over your stomach, palm your breasts and elicit a pitchy gasp from the immediate contact of her cold hands to your sensitive nipples, “every fucking day.”

“shut up,” she denies it again, which only slightly irks you because as cliche as it felt to say during a makeout, it’s not like you would lie about how much you’ve craved this— or more specifically, her.

you try to really expand on the thought, but it becomes almost impossible when her lips attach to your jaw, suckling until her teeth are teasing the sensitive, thin skin beneath your ear, and you make a noise too embarrassing to recount before you can gather your words. “…missed you.”

caitlin makes a noise in her own throat, something between a growl and a groan as she arches her hips up slightly to press against you, before she shakes her head, pulling back only to look up at you from your position on her lap with this sick, almost torturous gaze. her eyes are lidded and feverbright, cheeks pink, and lips glossy, kiss-bitten.

“you shouldn’t think about me.” it comes out quick with her breath, her thumbs still slow in the circles they rubbed around your nipples, making your head arch back with a whimper before you swallow hard, her words almost too quiet to hear, “not worth it to think about.”

the admission surprises you, “fuck off, clark.” you snort, the words fall lazily out of your mouth, “so humble, huh?”

she gets hot at that, and you can tell from the way her face is pressed into your neck, the way a heat radiates from her cheeks right at that moment that makes your stomach swirl, your own hands coming up to tangle into her hair.

“…i‘m serious.” she insists, still mouthing against the same area of skin that you knew would be bruised, and pretend like her totally incognito, self deprecative words weren’t somewhat confusing and worrying you.

she was fucking perfect, didn’t she realize that? how could she not when practically everyone else in the world thought the same? maybe you were being dramatic or maybe you were just horny, but it felt achingly real in the moment that she knew that, even if she wouldn't listen, even if you'd have to show her instead.

“cait, i’m fucking serious.” you counter now, using the hands in her hair to tug, exploring the reaction that it elicits, which is something that apparently caitlin enjoys by the soft whine that jumps from her throat, the way her breath quickens, the wide eyed look she gives you.

it makes your head spin, your thighs clench involuntarily. she seems so fucking innocent, and yet, all knowing at the same time.

“is that… bad?” you continue, your own head ducking to latch your lips against her neck, feeling her pulse jump beneath your teeth, “that i… touched myself and thought of you?” maybe it was the cocktails or the fact that this could be the last fucking time you see her, but it’s like word vomit— every thought and emotion that comes to you is spoken without hesitation, and apart of you wonders where you’d gotten such newfound bravery.

caitlin must be wondering too.

“not bad,” it comes out of her weak, weaker than she is right now, melting under your mouth and the tight grasp you have on her dark hair, the way each strand twines around your fingers to where even the most minuscule move of your fingers elicit a huff or a sigh, “it’s… fucking hot, what the fuck.”

it fuels you, in some way, to hear her validation. for some reason, you don’t try to hold off much longer— your own sweatshirt is being pulled off in record time, tangled in your arms momentarily and flung across the room as you go to reach for hers, “off?” you hum in the midst of the movement, to which she nods, quickly, obedient and yet, so unruly.

she was a dichotomy of everything she stood for. a shy girl pretending to be a superstar, and yet, even in moments like this, quiet and intimate, it felt like a superstar pretending to be shy. you knew just how easily she could unload, dominate the situation— pin you down by your wrists and eat you out within an inch of your life, because she had.

but now, she’s relenting, and it makes something within you burn, strengthening wildly to try and tame that beast that you knew sat fervent beneath her skin, to try and prove that caitlin didn’t always have to be caitlin clark, she could just be this.

just a pretty girl you wanted to fuck.

besides, maybe you were making up for lost time, returning favors you’d been too drunk and blissed out to give the first time around when she’d finished you off with fucking ease.

as soon as she’s exposed, her black sports bra yanked off with little effort to reveal her breasts beneath, pale and dotted with freckles, a red line from the band of it standing starkly against it, you find your mouth lowering to suckle on a spot near her nipple, teasing against the bud and licking gently at the skin until you hear her breath increase, breaking only slightly into a whine that makes you swallow hard.

you pull away, just to look at her— dark eyebrows furrowed, focused in a concentration that you can only discern as someone fighting for the need to control, to dictate, to display the same use of her strategic authority that she’s used time and time again on the court.

you decide in that moment, that you won’t let her.

“let me take care of you?” it comes out softer than you mean it to, and you can see the trust building within her, slow to register as safe— and you don’t blame her.

you both are practically strangers, knowing nothing of each other than drunken conversation that had turned too deep, nothing but the sound the other made when they came, the faces they made. it was intimately unfamiliar, and perhaps that’s where caitlin had found the solace.

maybe she knew that at this point in her career she wouldn’t have normalcy. it was practically impossible for any person knowledgeable in sports to not know her, or even just of her. to a further degree, even most, with the exception of being well versed in women’s sports, had at least heard of her, and that was simply a piece of herself that had been taken, one she’d never be able to retrieve.

but this, this might be the one standing, single piece of lucidity and realness that was hers— locked away in a hotel room in a city unfamiliar to the both of you, and it’s enough.

it’s enough for now.

“you wouldn’t even text me back.” she counters, but it’s clear in her tone, regardless of how ragged, that it’s to prod at you, and it works.

“shut up.” you murmur as you press your hands to her shoulders, push her back against the bed to straddle her fully as you brush your thumb over her abused nipple, reddened and too easy to bruise. she moans when you press on it, and it elicits a smirk to your face that’s impossible to hide. “you’re here now, aren’t you?”

for some reason, it causes a sad sort of smirk to her face that’s impossible to miss, regardless of how quickly she covers it with an exhale of want, one that you know isn’t feigned, “where else would i be?”

there’s a million answers to that. press, interviews, sleeping, with her fucking boyfriend, but you settle for a small smile, “good point.”

you hope it centers her a little when the bruising press of your fingers translate into something gentler, more of a caress against her chest that you trail up to her face, and it almost twists something inside of you to see the way her face relaxes, leans against it as if it was some type of treatment or medicine to some ailment you weren’t aware of.

you go to pull away, to begin working at the ties on her sweatpants to unwravel her even more, lost in the softness of the moment and yet still blinded by the hazy lust until she speaks, quiet and barely there.

“did you really think about me?”

it stuns you for half a second, because the simple confession hadn’t registered to you as something she’d recall, something she’d look to expand upon.

but you’d always been honest, brutally so.

“yeah,” you say it as if it was obvious, when truly it wasn’t, and more so, probably wasn’t reciprocated, “i had fun,” a gross understatement, a weak replacement for all that you really wanted to say. then, if not a bit more revealing of your inner voice, “didn’t you?”

caitlin makes a noise that resembles a huff, but it’s not impatient, it’s honest. you wonder how often she gets to do that. “you know i did.” it comes out like an admission of guilt, under her breath, yet her eyes are unrelenting as they are sincere and it makes your eyebrows lift.

it makes your breath halt slightly, “is… not having fun in your contract or something?” you lace it with a quiet chuckle, mostly because you don’t want to make it too deep, too revealing to ask, but part of you thinks it’s expanded beyond that already, had been since she'd called you at three in the morning, just to say that she'd seen you, that she wanted to see you again.

her hands rise from her sides to rest against your thighs, and the touch is welcome, one that you relax into before she manages a half smile, “might as well be.”

but then, you see that surge of confidence again, something in her eyes glimmering as she squeezes at the skin of your thighs, hard, but your eyes remain fixed, even as hers drop, almost shy in her show of strength. “it’s why… i’ve thought about you like, everyday since... final four?”

that certainly makes your breath halt, invoking a reaction in your stomach and between your legs that you choose to ignore as you swallow, thumb still slow in its brush against her cheek.

“yeah?” it comes out of you rough, and she grants you with a nod as a response, then, after only a moment, she whispers, an echo to your words from before. “so... is it bad that i missed you too?”

“god, shut up.” you repeat again, as if somehow that was a valid response to being told such a thing by a girl you’d only had met twice, by a girl you knew nothing about.

you wanna ask her a million questions, know anything and everything: ask her if she’s actually into girls, if she’s actually into her boyfriend. mainly, if she’s actually into this pedestal that she’d been thrust into, if the fame was too much, maybe if it was never enough.

but you settle for shutting her up for now, because you can see the way her chest rises and falls rapidly, can hear the strain that it took to admit, and you realize, selflessly, that maybe you won’t let yourself ask for more.

not now, anyway.

instead, you lean up, uncharacteristically tender as you slide your lips against hers, feels the way she relents against you, slow and subservient.

“can i show you how bad i missed you?” your fingers tease the edge of her sweatpants, and she lets out a creaking groan, head tilting back and eyes closing as if in exasperation, before she nods. “please.”

you get right to work.

it takes only a little bit of adjustment to get her pants off of her long legs, to reveal the simple pair of black boy shorts that she wore, before you can finally tease a finger against the soaked fabric, reveling in the wetness that you knew matched your own.

her hips jump up, caged in only by your legs as you arch your middle finger, riding the knuckle against her heat, watching the way her face twists only slightly, lips parted in silent noises that you wish you could beckon out of her.

it is fun, you realize in the back of your mind, to pull her apart like this. without the inebriation clouding your mind from the last time, you feel almost startlingly cognizant of your own movements, of her reactions.

when you finally pump your middle finger into her, you notice the way her stomach and abs flex involuntarily, the way her voice pitches up and almost keens in her throat, catching with every stuttered inhale.

when you lean down to press your lips against the slickness of her cunt, press the pad of your tongue to her clit, she says your name— loud. it’s something mixed between a whine and a plead, long, dexterous fingers tangling into your hair and holding on tight.

you devour her, tongue slow to slide against her slick folds, to feel the surge of wetness spill out around your fingers, mixed with your own saliva. you drink her in like she’s a potion, or an elixir, something that you swear you can find and savor if you just go deeper, harder.

it isn’t until you feel her thighs tense, clamping around your head as she lets out a sound close to a gasping breath, marked with a moan that makes your head spin— she sounds so fucking desperate, and you’re bound and determined to give her exactly what she wants. what she deserves, really.

she comes on your fingers, in your mouth, and you relish every bit of it, quick to clean up the excess with fervor. she’s sensitive still, her breath huffing out whenever you breach too close to her clit, but you’re gentle. that’s what this was all about, right?

it’s quiet after the storm, your wrist sore and mouth wet as you sit up a bit, eyes careful to observe how hard her chest rises and falls. the way her hair, having fallen from its loose bun, sat in messy waves around her face, nothing like the impeccably straightened strands you’d seen at the draft, and it sort of makes you smile in an off handed way that you can’t explain, especially not when she opens her eyes finally to look at you.

“quit.” she says, and there’s a smile, tired and breathless, teasing at her own mouth as the hand that had fisted your tangled locks finally released, dragging down the side of your head to push your chin away lightly,

you can’t help but snicker, raising a brow, “what?” she rolls her eyes, and you repeat yourself, this time with a snort, “sorry, you’re just— you just look pretty like this.”

it’s hard to pretend that something inside of you doesn’t wince when her smile drops slightly, and you pretend like it isn’t uncommon to compliment the stranger you just ate out with such sincerity and honesty.

she’s slow when she says it, “...you always look pretty.” and it sounds wistful, murmured in a way that you can’t help but flush a bit at, as you roll your eyes now as if to return the favor, “you’ve only seen me twice, drunk, in sweats.”

but for some reason, that makes her smile return and for half a second, you let yourself pretend.

that maybe, this random series of hookups between you two weren’t fueled by some weird attraction slash escapism slash secret infidelity that had to be shared between you, or tucked away from the world. for half a second, she wasn’t caitlin clark, women’s basketball superstar, future member of the indiana fever.

she was cait, a girl you’d met at a bar that you’d hooked up with who just happened to see you again, and maybe, if you were a little dumber, and maybe a bit drunker, you’d admit to yourself that there’s a part of you that likes her, and each time you’d thought about her in the past few weeks, it had become achingly apparent.

but, you’re smarter than that, and definitely not drunk enough, so you pretend that her next words don’t make your heart skip multiple beats, as if it doesn’t cause a flutter in your chest.

“still,” she scoffs, and she’s sitting up a little, her hand having laid lazily against her stomach, reaches over to grasp your wrist, almost absently, “plus, i saw you earlier tonight, in that dress?”

it shouldn’t make you almost stunned into silence, but it fucking does.

“sorry— not to like, be weird and say i was looking for you but, i dunno, i just— i remember you saying something about UCONN, so i just assumed you'd be ther—“

you’re kissing her before even you can register what she’s saying, or why she says it all in this shy, almost sheepish tone that fills you with a flood of endorphins, butterflies being set alight inside of you.

“god, you’re so…” you’re not sure where you’re going with it, but you can’t help the way your hand comes up to hold the side of her face, dip your thumb against her bottom lip as if to make her taste herself, all as your eyes watched, lidded and fixed.

then, you exhale, only a whisper, “i’m gonna get you in trouble.” you manage to say, despite the very obvious fact that watching her suck on your finger is doing unspeakable things to you, before you drag the wet digit out, her bottom lip pulling only slightly.

“with who?” she says it almost as if you both know the answer, both thinking about the multitude of bigger names and bigger people who had long since been the determinant in caitlin’s career— at least from the little that you knew— and it lapses you both in a measured silence.

until she speaks, and it’s quiet, and sincere. “you’re just like… the only thing in my life right now that has nothing to do with basketball.”

it's a compliment, wrapped up in something a lot more sad, a lot more sincere. it shouldn’t make you want to hug her, but it does, so, you do.

your arms twine around her neck slowly, your face lowering to bury against her neck, just beneath her chin, and you can feel her chest vibrate slightly with a chuckle or a laugh, before her arms are around you, squeezing you tight, “don’t go all sappy on me, dude.” she murmurs, but it’s present in the way she doesn’t pull from it, or really, the way she fucking clutches onto you, almost desperately, that you pretend once again that this doesn’t mean anything. that this is traditional, hookup behavior, and that once she leaves this hotel room, everything will shift right back into place.

a place where caitlin clark gets to be caitlin clark and you get to be you, and there’s no overlap.

except, that doesn’t happen.

no, instead, once you pull away from the hug she kisses you again, hungrier this time, her hands sliding from your back to your hips so she can hook fingers in the edge of your panties, urging you to sit up on your knees so she can pull them down.

instead, she lets you ride her thigh— both hands firm and strong, her own biceps lfexing to keep you glued to her thick, muscle corded thigh, your cunt unforgivably wet as she dragged your hips down, over and over.

your head tips forward to press to her forehead, and she kisses you through each desperate cry that escapes your lips, the friction and slide becoming wetter, slicker by the moment, drawing these high pitched noises from your throat that you know caitlin is drinking in, all while she murmurs to you in this soft little voice, “show me good it feels, lemme hear you.”

in the end, you both pass out there, somewhat in a laying position as caitlin lays on her back, arms loosely wrapped around you, who’s laying stomach down atop of her, a thigh lazily hiked up to hang against her hip, your face pressed into her neck.

it’s fucking bizarre when you think about it.

how you both had talked more than you ever had before, and when you look back on it in the morning, nothing but a ghostly reminder of her presence by the sheets that lay strewn about, the undeniable smell of sex and sweat that still hung in the air, you pretend like you don’t realize just how little you still knew about her, and just how much that you wished you knew.

you also pretend like you don’t miss her, or that when you’re gathering your clothes to check out, a soreness in your body unlike one you’ve really ever felt, you’re practically stunned to see her faded, gray, IOWA shirt, thrown lazily over the desk chair that makes you wonder just how accidental it was for her to leave it.

you wear it anyway,

it isn’t until you make it back to connecticut, making up some excuse for your friends as to how you hadn’t been able to meet up with caitlin, how she’d been too busy anyway and you’d spent the night drinking at a bar, that maybe, just maybe, there was a part of you that wanted to keep her protected, confidential.

maybe it was the post-sex fueled lust that wanted you to keep it close to your chest, a dirty secret only for you to enjoy, or maybe it came from somewhere softer, somewhere that remembered how caitlin had such little privacy, that it almost hits you like a pang just how much you wanted her to still have that, even if it was at the expense of not seeing your friends faces when you told them that you guys had hooked up, again. even if she'd never know that you didn't say a word.

fuck it. it’s the least you could do.

you try not to think about her for days really, not until you’re doing laundry and come across the grey t-shirt, deciding only then that you’d pull up your goddamn bootstraps and finally send a message.

it’s cheeky, the wrinkled t-shirt thrown on over your underwear, leaving your thighs on display and the peek of a hip that you know is intentional before you snap a picture, sending it with little hesitation, and subsequently throwing your phone afterwards at the bed.

“you left something”

cc loved your message, “you left something”

“i know”

“guess i’ll have to come get it back”

it’s stupid, you know it is, but it makes you smile, typing with an urgency only known when texting back the pretty girl you like, before you send it, bottom lip teased between your teeth.

“how close are you to connecticut?”

#caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark smut #wcbb x reader #guys is this gonna become a series #im scared #caitlin clark

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steddieas-shegoes · 2 years

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Wayne first saw Steve Harrington when he was on a class field trip to the plant. He couldn’t have been older than 9. Eddie hadn’t come to live with him yet.

He only saw him for a minute, but it only took a minute to see that the boy had dark circles under his eyes that rivaled his own.

It took him a while to forget about the exhausted child in front of him and how much he reminded him of his nephew.

*****

He attended one of the Hawkins High basketball games during Eddie’s first senior year, took the night off for it, even. Eddie was never one for sports, so the fact he agreed to play with his band during their halftime was something Wayne couldn’t pass up watching. It had to have meant something to his boy for him to even mention it, so he played the part of proud parent and sat through the first half of the game.

But when he saw Steve Harrington out there, he couldn’t help but check for those dark circles or the same exhausted slump he saw in a child much too young to show physical signs of exhaustion.

He appeared to be fine, though Wayne couldn’t help but notice how he kept searching the stands for something or someone during every pause in the game.

Wayne had a gut feeling he knew who he was searching for, and an even stronger one that he wouldn’t find them.

After the game and the show, Wayne helped Eddie pack his guitar and amp into the back of the van.

“Hey, you ever talk to that Harrington boy?”

Eddie’s face was answer enough.

*****

To know Eddie was alive wasn’t enough for Wayne, he needed to watch him breathing, watch his fingers twitch while he slept. He needed to know that Eddie was real, was safe, was right in front of him.

But apparently Steve Harrington needed the same reassurances.

Steve had been by Eddie’s side since they let visitors into the room. As far as Wayne knew, he’d only left once for an hour to visit that Max girl’s room.

He was hesitant to say anything beyond kind greetings and goodbyes when he had to head to work. Steve looked one second away from breaking down.

He held Eddie’s hand like it was a lifeline, and maybe it was for him. Whatever they’d been through was serious, proof of that being the injuries they both were dealing with and the fact that Eddie hadn’t opened his eyes yet.

As much as Wayne wanted explanations, he wanted Steve to find comfort in being with Eddie more.

The dark circles under his eyes remained.

Wayne watched the way Steve would stare at Eddie, wordlessly begging him to open his eyes, and wondered what had changed between them. Was it just the trauma of the situation or something else?

He’d known Eddie liked boys for years; hard to hide when you get caught sneaking out of the house to go to a “special” bar in Indianapolis on a school night. He hugged him, told him he loved him no matter what, and offered to drive him out there himself the next weekend he had off if he promised to not go alone on a school night.

But Steve didn’t seem the type. Wayne had learned how to spot them, mostly so he could protect Eddie, and Steve had never seemed like he’d strayed or even thought about straying from girls.

He shouldn’t assume, though.

He knew how Richard Harrington was.

So he sat silently, guarding the two boys who needed it most.

On the sixth day, Wayne asked a nurse if Steve had left the hospital at all.

“No. Poor boy’s been glued to his side. The doctor had to stitch him up in the room because he wouldn’t leave.”

“Stitch him up?”

“Oh, yes! He had a large wound on his side and his chest had a few areas that needed stitches. He wouldn’t let anyone bandage his neck, but they prescribed him penicillin to try to prevent infection.”

Wayne shook his head. So Steve was a self-sacrificing idiot. Time to address that.

“Thanks, Janet. I owe ya a coffee for takin’ such good care of Eddie.”

Janet blushed. “Stop it! I’m just doing my job.”

Wayne smiled at her before making his way into Eddie’s room.

As usual, Steve was in a chair by his bed, hand in hand with Eddie.

The unusual part was that Steve was fast asleep, head nestled against Eddie’s leg.

It couldn’t be comfortable, but going off of how Steve had looked the day before, he was probably too tired to care about comfort.

Wayne looked at the scene in front of him.

Something else was different, too.

Eddie’d moved.

Only someone who’s been in this room for hours on end every day would have noticed it. Eddie’s head was turned towards Steve, and his other hand had found it’s way to Steve’s hair.

Oh.

So it was like that.

Wayne let out a shaky breath, too many emotions trying to escape at once. His boy had woken up, and had found comfort in someone who hadn’t left his side for almost a week. He couldn’t ask for more.

He slowly made his way out of the room, catching Janet just as she was passing to check on another patient.

“Did Eddie wake up?”

Janet’s eyebrows furrowed. “No, Steve hasn’t come to get us. Why? Is everything alright?”

Wayne nodded. “Everything’s fine.”

She smiled at him and continued on her way.

Wayne smiled to himself as he made his way down to the cafeteria to get Steve some food.

It looked like Steve Harrington was finally getting some rest.

Supportive Uncle Wayne Series Part 2

#steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #steddie #idk I just think Wayne Munson would have adopted Steve the second he could #headcanon #tumblr drabbles

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ariestrxsh · 2 months

Text

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚_____________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ⁭ ⁭

⁭ ⁭⚠️ content warning: ⚠️ smut, lap dance, role play, fingering, oral, unprotected sex, praise, pussy worship, pussydrunk!matt, softdom!matt, exchange of money for sex

✍️ Summary: ✍️ You've started a job at a strip club in your town, and while you're on stage, you notice none other than Matt Sturniolo, a good friend of yours, watching you in the crowd. Neither one of you expected to run into one another here, but he approaches you as a customer and pretends he doesn't know you.

if you're looking for a chris version with a similar storyline, you can read it here 💖

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚_____________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

It took me a few weeks to get comfortable dancing in my heels, and a month before my legs weren't sore after every shift. Having been here a little shy of six months, I was making enough money to spend on even sexier lingerie so I could bring in even more tips. I was also learning new tricks on the pole.

Taste

I had just recently started my job at a local strip club, and because I was new and unsure about how the people in my life would react, I opted out of telling my friends and family about it, so instead I told everyone I got hired at a bar, which wasn't entirely false. We did serve alcohol.

I liked my job honestly, and I didn't feel like there were many people who could say that. I liked the work, I liked the women I worked with, I got paid well, and I even liked a lot of the customers. I had fun teasing men and spending my time with them while they gave me money and attention. It was a nice exchange. And I felt like I was genuinely getting to know some of them, even though they weren't exactly getting to know me. I was putting on a persona, and it was usually catered to the person I was servicing at the time, but it's not like it wasn't me. It was just only one aspect of me that I amped up and played heavily into. But I loved it. I loved dressing up and playing a role that was so different from my everyday demeanor and being what these men wanted me to be. In my everyday life, I was reserved, introverted, and kept to myself most of the time, but when I was dancing, I was an exaggerated version of who I was when no one was looking. My fantasies, my sexual desire, an alter ego if you will.

It was almost my time to go on. I reapplied my body glitter and made a few finals tweaks to my outfit. I was wearing a white sparkly corset that pushed my breasts up nicely and a matching thong as well as glass six inch heels. I had my hair down but out of my face and curly. "Give it up for Mary Jane," the announcer came on. I didn't want to use my real name at my work, so I decided on Mary Jane because it was innocent sounding and was also nothing like my real name. 'Taste' by Tyga and Offset played over the speakers, there was a spotlight on me and other lights around me flashed and changed colors, and I seductively strutted towards the pole in front of me, gripping it with one hand and doing a little spin around it. I slowly descended down the pole with my back to it until I was in a squat, looking out at the crowd of men who were eager to see my body and what it could do. I came back up and hooked one of my legs around the pole, doing a ballerina spin around it. I could feel all these eyes on me, and I gained even more confidence as the dollar bills started raining at me feet.

I made eye contact with a few customers I recognized, men who were regulars. Then my gaze scanned across a familiar face that wasn't one I usually saw in this setting. Matt Sturniolo? In a strip club? This was not his scene at all. We were decently close friends, but I certainly hadn't told him I applied here, and I didn't think it was necessary considering I didn't think I'd ever see him here. He appeared to be alone. No one I recognized was near him. And when we made eye contact, he was looking at me some sort of way I'd never been looked at by him before, like he was hungry for me. He had to have recognized me, right? I may look different with my tits pushed up to my chin, but not that different.

I focused my attention back to my dance, manipulating the attention of every man in the room, contorting my body in ways that had every man wishing they were the pole between my legs. I finished my song, collected my ones, tucked them into my corset, and carefully got down from the stage.

Once I looked up from watching my feet as I stepped off the stage, I saw Matt making his way over to me. I was really nervous about what he might say. If he'd be mad that I didn't tell him I was working here or if he'd tease me. Instead, he looked me up and down with his lust-filled blue eyes and licked his lips. "How much for a dance from you?" He asked me, smiling. He couldn't be serious. I hesitated for a second. I had never been put in a position where someone I recognized outside of the club came in and asked me for a dance.

On some level, it felt inappropriate. On another level, it felt like a bad business move to not take him up on it. "$100 for three songs," I responded nonchalantly. He casually took a $100 bill out of his wallet and tucked it into my corset with my other money. I liked the way he did that. Then he grabbed me by the waist and started walking with me towards the back of the club where he could sit down. "So, Mary Jane, did they say?" Matt asked as he sunk into his chair and looked up at me, almost as if studying the way I was gonna respond.

Was he going to pretend he didn't know me? Was this part of the fantasy, acting like we were two strangers who just met in a strip club when we're actually pretty close friends outside of this. I nodded. I turned around and began grinding on him, and he grabbed my waist in response, slowly running his fingers down my curves. "How long have you worked here, Mary Jane? Matt asked me. "Nearly six months," I replied while I shifted my weight so I was resting right against his half-hard cock. He let out a groan in response. "It's a shame I've missed you any time I've been in here," he answered. "You come here often?" I asked, it sounding like a bad pick up line in my head. "Sometimes, depends on what's going on in my life. Depends on my needs at the time," he told me. I didn't know that about Matt.

There was something about being on his lap, brushing up against his hardening member in his pants that was turning me on more than I thought it should be. I had given men lap dances before that I'd found attractive, and it definitely left me a little wet a few times. But this was different. I definitely had always found Matt attractive, and there was an extra layer to this, Matt and I acting like this was our first time meeting. The way his demeanor was different in this setting and the way mine was too. I was beginning to wonder if I was starting to enjoy this more than he was.

"I wanna see your face," Matt growled into my ear, and I obliged by turning around and straddling him. I went back to basically riding him with our clothes on while we looked into each other's eyes. Matt's hands almost immediately found their way to my ass. "You have an incredible body, you know that?" Matt commented. "You're not so bad yourself," I smirked at him. Matt's hands moved from my ass to my breasts. The way he handled me was gentle but with purpose and demanding at the same time. I loved the way his hands traced my body while I continued to grind against him. "Fuck, I wanna kiss you so bad," Matt responded, staring at my lips. "You can if you have another $100 on you," I replied. No matter how badly I wanted to kiss him, I made it a rule that I'd always charge for intimate touch like that, because the men had to know it was transactional. I didn't want to make anyone feel lead on. This was my job, and this was a sale.

Matt shifted my hips so that I was straddling his knee now instead as he reached for his wallet in his pocket. I found myself holding my breath as his leg rubbed up against my already wet cunt and caused friction that sent a shock of pleasure through my nerve endings. It took everything in me to keep from riding his thigh while he pulled another benjamin out of his wallet and tucked it into the bra of my corset. I leaned in to kiss him. His lips were soft and pouty. His kiss was gentle, the same as his touch. His tongue slowly slipped into my mouth and brushed against my own. It was wet and velvety. While he passionately kissed me, his hands made their way to my face, softly cupping it. I pulled away, looking at him with a deep desire.

"Your three songs are almost over," I whispered, maintaining control of the situation. "I can pay for another three songs," Matt said, about to shift me onto his knee again. "Matt, please. As your friend, I can't let you do this. $300 is a lot of money to be spending at a strip club," I lectured him, breaking character. "Mary Jane, tonight I'm just another customer. I make my own money, I can spend it how I like," Matt bit his lip at me. "I wanna spend it on you, baby. I wanna spoil you," his words sent more waves of ecstacy through my body.

"Alright, another three songs," I said putting out my hand to accept another bill. "Actually, how much to take you to the private room?" Matt gestured towards the more intimate spaces where no one could see us. "All that you have in your wallet," I said jokingly, making a gun with my hand and jabbing it into his chest, but he took me seriously. He pulled out his wallet, grabbed a wad of cash, stuck it in my g-string this time, and tipped his wallet upside down to show me it was empty all while he smiled. I reached down to the money he'd put in my panties. "Only catch is, I want you for the whole night. Until the club closes," Matt growled while I counted the money. There was almost $1000 in my hand. I was shocked that Matt had this kind of money to blow at a strip club. And the fact that he did this semi-regularly? Matt was very quiet about how much money he had and about what a freak he was, and I liked that.

I thought about declining his offer and telling him I couldn't mix business, friendship, AND pleasure. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I'd be dumb not to. He was hot, he wanted me, and I'd never made this much money in one night before. "Deal," I said, tucking the money into my corset. Matt grinned at me. "Follow me," I said, leading him back.

I'd taken men into the private rooms before many times, and I liked it. It was quieter, away from all the noise. There was a bed and a couch. Usually, men would take me in there because they wanted more privacy. I'd never slept with a customer, no matter how much I'd been offered, but there were a few times where I'd definitely maybe crossed an ethical line that could technically get the club in trouble, but I'd never tell. I was good at keeping secrets. There were a few men I'd given handjobs to, one john who had taken my tits out of my bra and teased my nipples with his tongue, and one guy who rubbed my clit over my panties until he made me cum. I remembered being so embarrassed and blushing after that encounter, but that was the most money I'd ever made in one night. Until tonight.

"Why don't you take that top off?" Matt inquired when we were alone in the room. I smirked at him as I pulled all the cash out of my bra and set it next to my shoes I'd slipped out of to get more comfortable. I was nervous for him to see me like this, but it was just business. I started undoing the clasps on my corset when Matt came up behind me to help me. When all the hooks were undone, Matt slowly slid my straps down my shoulders one by one. He let my corset slowly fall to the ground, and when it did, he took both breasts into his hands and looked at them in awe. "Shit," he whispered to himself, fondling them, brushing up against my sensitive nipples.

Matt made his way to the couch and comfortably sprawled out, taking up space and licking his lips while his eyes studied my every curve while running his hand along his hard dick in his pants. "Come here, princess," Matt said, rubbing his leg and patting it, motioning for me to sit down, so I did. Once I leaned back into him, he played with my nipples some more, teasing them, pinching them, sucking on them. His hands slowly moved to the front of my panties, rubbing me through the fabric for a few minutes, and moved my thong aside while I sat on his lap. "Your pussy looks so pretty with your panties all pushed to the side like that," Matt complimented me in a voice that was barely above a whisper as he reached for it. When he started moving his fingers in circles skillfully around my clit, I let out a soft moan. "Oh, you're so wet, darling," Matt observed, exploring me with his hands. I loved sitting on his lap like a giddy little girl. His touch felt amazing. He slipped a finger inside of me and then another one while he looked down at my entrance, enthralled by how much wetter he was making me. "Oh, Matt," I whimpered as I started to get close. "Come on pretty girl. Cum all over my fingers," Matt smirked. I couldn't believe I was hearing these words leave Matt's mouth, but I took them as a command. I came unraveled while I sat on his knee with his fingers pumping in and out of me. I felt my body tense up and tremble for a few seconds, and then a glorious release.

"Good girl. You think I could make you cum again?" Matt cooed, licking his fingers while I tried to catch my breath, but I nodded and smiled. He lifted me up off his lap, revealing a wet spot on his pants under where I was sitting, and Matt seemed turned on by it. He sat me on the couch and got down on his knees on the floor between my legs. He pulled my panties to the side again, and I felt his hair tickle my thigh as he leaned it and attached his lips to my vulva. He teased me by kissing and licking everywhere but my clit while he looked up at me, smiling. "Please Matt," I whined, tugging at his curls, trying to bring him closer to where I wanted him to lick me, but he was doing it on purpose, making me beg for it, and he loved it. "Your pussy is so pretty up close and personal like this. Let me take my time with her," he smirked, teasing my entrance and kissing the insides of my thighs. He finally gave in after a few more minutes of my relentless pleading, manipulating my sweet spot with his tongue. He started moving it faster and more enthusiastically. It felt so good, I found myself sliding down on the couch, slowly but surely inching my pussy towards his face. He grabbed my hips and held me in place while he passionately moaned against me, sending shivers through my body. Matt was surprising me by the minute. He was certainly a jack of all trades, and I was learning I didn't even know a lot about him at all, only the parts that he wanted me to see. And the more I saw, the more I liked.

I started digging my nails into his shoulders as he continued to eat me like a mad man, running his hands and his tongue anywhere he pleased, and every time I was responsive to the way he touched me, he moved more eagerly. I was a moaning, writhing wreck under the flick of his tongue the carress of his fingers. I had never let a customer go down on me before. There were a lot of ethical boundaries I was willing to cross at this point for Matt. It just made it even hotter that we were playing into this fantasy that we didn't know each other and that he was just paying for a stripper - and at this point, basically a prostitute. I liked that Matt was paying me to eat my pussy. What a dream. And he was so wonderful at it too. Such attention to detail. So thorough. So restrained yet so urgent. I couldn't get enough of how much he wanted me.

"I'm so fucking in love with your pussy, I could eat you for hours," Matt mumbled in between licks. He closed his lips around my swollen bud and gently sucked on it until I was trembling and nearly screaming his name. "Yes, pretty girl. Make a mess on my tongue. I know you can do it," he cooed. His encouragement along with his skillful mouth had my second orgasm hitting me even harder than the first. I couldn't keep my hips from grinding against Matt's tongue while I twitched and whimpered obscenities, gripping the back of his head.

"Oh my fucking god. Where did you learn to do that?" I smiled down at him once I started to recover from my intense climax. "You're the one who basically showed me what to do with your body language. All I had to do was listen," he smirked. His answer was as hot as what he had just done to me. I liked the way Matt was in tune with my body, and the way he was trying things out to see how I'd react and then doing the things I loved over and over again. It was similar to how I behaved with my customers.

"Have you ever gone down on any other women in these clubs?" I asked him. "No, not ever. This was a first for me," he confided in me, which made me feel special. "First for me too. Guess it wouldn't hurt if we went further.." my voice started to trail off. "Say no more, princess," Matt said, finally taking the time to take off my panties instead of just moving them to the side again.

He unbuttoned his pants, pulled down his boxers, and entered me with no warning. I felt myself invite him in easily, and he started pumping in and out out of me aggressively. I loved the way he filled me and the way he spoke to me. I loved the way his lips parted to let out a stream of moans and the way he looked at me with his glazed over blue eyes, letting me know he couldn't take it much longer. His cock repeatedly hitting my pleasure spot was sending me over the edge again. I throbbed around his thickness as another wave crashed over me, and I got lost in it for a moment. All I could feel was endless pleasure, and there was a ringing in my ears that lasted for several minutes after I came. Matt loudly groaned "Oh, fuck," while he pulled out, leaving a mess on my pussy, and we both watched as his cock twitched and released his sticky white substance. He smiled down proudly and in awe of the way his ejaculate glistened on my womanhood.

He collapsed on the couch beside me after it was all over. "You're so much different at work as opposed to the shy girl I see every day," Matt nudged me. "Not shy, just keep my cards close to my chest," I corrected him. "But yeah, you're so much different as well. Who knew you could fuck like that?" I said, licking my lips, and he grinned as I complimented him.

"I've gotta go, sweetheart. The club is closing in ten minutes, and I've gotta come up with something to tell Chris and Nick about why I've been gone for several hours," he laughed. He leaned down one more time to stroke my face, and he gave me a sensual, slow, deep kiss. "Matt, seriously, come again. I loved doing business with you," I smiled up at him, not wanting him to leave. "I'll be back darling. Don't worry. I'd pay a million dollars if I had it to drown in that sweet pussy again. Just promise me, it'll be our little secret."

#sturniolo smut #sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #Spotify

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st4rd0lly · 7 months

Text

𝐂’𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐏𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐘!

cw: dog!reader (as in ears and tail) , ruts / heat , SMUT , written with AFAB reader in mind but no established genitalia or gendered pronouns/words regarding reader, slightttt corruption kink? if u squint, dom dazai, sub reader, obvi MDNI

just imagining being dazai’s puppydog coworker and oh is he so mean.

dazai, who teases you relentlessly at work, playing with your ears and messing with your tail till you turn around and start scolding him only for him to say he only hears barking right now

dazai, who riles you up on purpose just to hear you slightly growl at him but not miss a chance to poke fun at you for your tail giving you away by wagging it ! he takes it just as a sign of excitement and endearment

dazai, who leans down really close to your ears and whispers the most suggestive sentences ever to watch you freeze and squirm slightly but then pull back like he said nothing

dazai, who learns about your rut / heat cycles through “accidentally” eavesdropping on yosano speaking to you about them and how she might not have the meds to suppress them in time

dazai, who jumpstarts your rut / heat cycle early just because of this ! He amps up the teasing and flirty words and he watches how you squirm under any of his touches, how you breathe a little more heavy when he’s near, how you keep having your eyes wander to him. how they keep trailing from his eyes, to his neck, to his hands and sometimes his crotch

dazai, who watches you excuse yourself from work in a hurry much to the office’s surprise ! he offers to go check in on you like the good coworker and friend he is

dazai, who stands in front of your door with his ear pressed up against it. hearing you whine out desperately, and judging by the sounds of moving fabric, he assumes you’re humping a pillow. his hand wraps around the door knob and twists it, knowing that you were distracted and knowing that you forgot to lock the door

dazai, who knocks on the door and asks you if you’re alright which makes your hips stutter slightly. you try to tell him that you’re alright and that you just need some time to rest

dazai, who enters your apartment and sees you on the couch with your knees sinking into the cushions as you rut against the pillow. your tail was wagging and your ears were twitching

dazai, who helps you through your rut / heat like a good coworker and friend <3

“Oh f-fuck ! i-i’m sorry dazai—” You tried to apologize, your head was too dazed to even think properly but you were too focused on catching your pleasure. You figured you’d catch embarrassment pretty soon regardless, you couldn’t even continue to look him in the eye after turning your head around to see him.

“Now isn’t that a sight to see… My, it must be my birthday because this feels like a gift more than anything.” He cooed out loud, shutting the door behind him and locking it. Though, the idea of leaving it unlocked and having the possibility of a person walking in did leave him tempted.

He walked over behind you, his hands firmly stopping your hips abruptly. The feeling of his touch felt cold compared to the heat you were feeling. You had stripped yourself bare, only leaving your underwear on, soaked with slick. You let out a whimper at this action, lowering your head in defeat and embarrassment with your hands in front of the cushion to support you. Your tail kept thumping against the couch.

“Poor little puppy…” He chuckled, one of his hands traveled up your body before brushing your shoulder and then lifting your chin up to look at him with a gentle force. He couldn’t rough you up just yet. “Look at you, your skin feels so warm. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve assumed you were sick-“

“Dazai…” You whined, blinking slowly. God how you wanted him to fuck you right now. Treating you like a little toy, pressing your face down into the mattress while pounding into you. The ache between your legs was fucking unbearable, everything felt too hot and he was the only source of coldness.

“You want me to help you?”

Those words felt like cold water splashed to your face. Your eyes widen in eagerness and your body heats up more with shame and arousal. A smirk tugs at his lips, seeing even your ears perking up at this offer. You were too cute for him to handle.

“I-I’ve never…done it before.” You admitted, and he swore his heart was about to cave in. You really were too cute for him to handle. Regardless of whether or not you’ve slept with someone, it didn’t matter to him. But the thought of him being the first and only one to make you mess?

His hardened cock strained against his pants uncomfortably even more now.

“And yet you’re humping a pillow like you’ve fucked yourself on a dick before.” The brunette teased, looking closely as you get shy.

“Why don’t you tell me everything you’ve been thinking about when you looked at me today? Trust me, I could tell.” Dazai grinned, his hand trailing down to your neck and rubbing the skin beneath his thumb. He leaned down closer.

“I guess I have to take responsibility for putting you in this predicament in the first place… so just tell me everything you’ve thought of me doing to you ‘kay? And I promise I’ll be better than what you imagined, oh-

—and keep your pretty eyes on me pup.”

#dividers by : @/cafekitsune #. . . words of the crimson moon —✫・゜・。.#bsd smut #bsd x reader #dazai smut #dazai x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs smut #ヾ(。＞＜)シ i hope im writing dazai at least decently #hes one of my fav characters so !!#first actual real writing post gahhh

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apomaro-mellow · 4 months

Text

This was such a cute mermay idea I had to do it

Nancy watched as they took the first mer out of the tank, nicknamed 'Billy'. His tail was a deep blue but she knew better than to attach too much connection between the coloration of the tail and their personality. He was anything but calm and soothing. If anything, she would call him a brute, but it was hard to even say that regarding an animal.

Sometimes fish could be aggressive. And clearly putting two males in one tank had amped up that aggression. Poor Steve had yet to leave his cave after Billy's last attack. They'd need a diver to help coax him out and tend to his wounds.

It takes a couple of weeks for him to recover and in that time, the team brings in a new mer, another male. Robin was vehemently against putting him in the same tank as Steve.

"He just got over what happened with Billy. What're you gonna do if this one tries to fight him again?"

"Steve isn't totally helpless", Nancy said, remembering the wounds inflicted on Billy as well. "Besides, we need to figure out if it really is just instinctual, territorial stuff or if there's something else going on."

And so the second male was put into the same tank as Steve's. At first, he was appropriately cautious, as was the other mer. They both kept to opposite sides of the tank. Then Robin began to notice some odd behaviors in them.

The new one, dubbed 'Eddie' by his wrangler Wayne, would sometimes poke and prod at Steve. He would do so and then immediately swim away, like he was bold but shy at the same time. Steve didn't lash out the way he had with Billy, so perhaps it was some form of play? It was times like these that she wished they knew more about these creatures.

Then Steve did more than just not lash out. He appeared to be playing along. Steve had never engaged in play. Honestly, to Robin he seemed a little haughty, like a prima donna of a fish. The gossamer frills of his tail, almost like a betta fish, gave him that look of someone above it all. But when he played with Eddie, he looked, well, goofy.

But he seemed happy. Healthy even.

Then, one day, while passing by on her lunch break, Robin noticed something she had never seen Steve do before. Eddie floated nearby while Steve swam in an alluring display, his tail undulating in a way that made Robin feel like she shouldn't be watching. So she didn't stay for long. There were always cameras on the tanks just in case something happened while no one was around anyway.

But she brought it up to Nancy immediately. Because if her suspicions were correct...

"It looked like a mating dance to me, Nance."

"Don't be silly, they're both males. And if that was possible, then why didn't Steve perform for Billy?"

"Uhh, he kept biting and clawing at him? Not very romantic. And let's not pretend homosexuality is a purely human invention", Robin pointed out.

Nancy was still skeptical. "Well, even if they are engaging in courtship, the fact remains that they can't reproduce together."

Unexpected babies could complicate things in the tank when they knew so little about mers to begin with. How did they even raise their young? It was the kind of question they'd learn the answer to sooner rather than later.

A few days after Robin took notice of the supposed mating rituals, a diver noticed that Steve's belly appeared to be a bit more full. They tried to get closer to inspect but in his first act of aggression, Eddie pounced with the intention to bite their head off. Thankfully, they were fully covered and got away with just a chunk taken from their goggles. Unable to inspect up close, the research team chalked it up gaining weight. It could either be from preparing for winter or having less stress to effect his appetite.

About a week after that, during a routine clean up, Nancy saw that the moment a diver went into the water, Eddie stood sentry at the cave and Steve was nowhere to be seen, presumably inside. Not wanting to agitate him, they waited until he was asleep to send a camera down. Through its night vision lens, they saw the two adult mer and what appeared to be a clutch of about five eggs, the size of grapefuit settled between them.

When the evidence came back, Nancy pointedly kept her gaze from Robin's 'I told you so' face.

"Don't look so smug unless you can tell me how this happened", Nancy said.

Robin shrugged. "I have theories."

It took about three weeks for the eggs to hatch, after doubling in size. The team kept their distance as Eddie's territorial streak rivaled Billy's when his mate was in a vulnerable state. But they checked in whenever they could. Only two of the eggs grew to full term and hatched, the other three deflating not long after being laid.

Nancy chalked it up to it likely being Steve's first mating and having come from a stressful situation. She was proven correct when a year later, he laid again, six this time, and they all made it to full term. She and Robin watched as Eddie and Steve floated together, tails in a twist and holding hands, letting the current carry them as their eight children chased each other around.

Robin nudged her partner. "We're gonna need a bigger tank."

#kinda wanna write steve/eddie pov too #apo writes #stranger things #steddie #mermay #mpreg #robin buckley #nancy wheeler

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prettyboykatsuki · 1 year

Text

HOW TO BE A DOG. | S. GOJO | PART 2

⊹ general tags ; fem + afab!reader, reader presents femininely and has some specific character traits (i.e. personality traits, nothing physical), reader is shorter / smaller than gojo but nothing specified, reader is a teacher, gojo carries reader at some point (but he is canonly able to do very insane things physically so)

⊹ content warnings ; dead dove. do not eat, yandere gojo satoru, manipulation, stalking, obsessive behavior, delusional behavior, workplace harassment (not from gojo), victim blaming, canon typical violence, graphic depictions of murder, minor character death, excessive religious imagery, coercion, gaslighting, abuse of power, something akin to stockholm syndrome, graphic depiction of noncon / sexual content, forced intimacy, fingering, hickies / bruises, begging, edging, loss of virginity, size kink, 18+.

all sexual content present in this part.

MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING FOR GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF NONCON, COERCION, AND SEXUAL VIOLENCE.

⊹ wc ; 18.4k / 36.1k

link to extended authors note | ao3 | how to be a dog, by andrew kane.

LINK TO PART ONE.

⊹ a/n ; here's part two!! miss ame has read it so im all good to post. i will upload to ao3 as soon as im awake i promise lol. hope you enjoy the fic and please heed the tags. likes and rbs always appreciated. also the last part is, relatively tame. the crazy gets amped up to ten so be careful.

⊹ synopsis ; with six eyes to see it becomes clear, you are being watched.

"You must learn, once you have sampled the freedom of a life without a chain, that it is better to return and be chained again. Or you may learn that it is not—a fugitive is also a kind of dog." - andrew kane, how to be a dog.

⊹ PART TWO : SOMETHING TAKEN IS BORROWED. SOMETHING RUINED IS YOURS.

Snow is falling outside. The world is covered in white.

Gojo Satoru sits on his hands and watches the blizzard outside from his window. His apartment is dark and there’s frost on his window. He can hear the wind from inside, and can feel the cold chill of glass as he stands close to it.

Snow is falling outside. The world is covered in white. Spring feels like an innocent century ago.

Nothing’s changed, but everything is different. It’s starting to feel comedic. It’s so cyclical. He has two states of being. Being with you, and not. It dictates his internal world. He functions the same as usual. Repetition. Working, coming home, and waiting.

Gojo feels like he’s waiting. Perpetually waiting for time to set again so he can see you. There’s something in him only you can fulfill - an itch only you can scratch. Gojo is drawn to irreplaceable people, so perhaps it’s no surprise that he’s latched onto you this way.

There’s nothing to call it other than greed. Sometimes love, but mostly greed. A habit he can’t break free from. Gojo wants to see you. He doesn’t know why either. There’s not any particular reason. Or if there is, he hasn’t examined it too deeply. Gojo has always known in some innate way that he’s lonely. That his loneliness makes him untouchable - but not in the same way it might make a God.

The thought of doing anything without you makes paranoia creep up in his throat like bile. Gojo is that sort of lonely. Is it too much to ask to be next to someone, who never goes anywhere he can’t see? Monopolizing your time and all the ways to do it best take up most of his energy.

When was the last time anyone made him feel warm, in the cold white of winter? He thinks maybe he realized it too late, that he cares about you this much.

The reality is that Jujutsu Sorcerers are better off learning how to cut their losses. You love people and they die. You like people and they die. Gojo doesn’t think he can accept that from you so easily. He doesn’t think he should have too.

Does he need a good reason to want to keep you?

Gojo doesn’t want to make you hate him. He just wants to make sure you’re alive even if it means you might hate him. You might never understand either. Because you are still foolish, naive and human. Is that really asking for so much?

It makes him hesitate from the call to action. That instinct in his bones. He sees having met you as a blessing from the Heavens who’ve banished him. Gojo Satoru is not god. He understands God, but he’s not God.

No matter how much Gojo reaches for omnipotence, his long fingers can’t stretch towards it. Godliness is uninhabitable, an abandoned house. If Gojo casts his eyes on you for more than one second, he can do nothing but long. How can God long? Perhaps if he were more godlike, he could treat your inevitable death like a sacrifice. A martyrdom, or proof of your undying love for him.

Despite that, he understands how God's love can reach. Inciting violence to bring you closer to him is merciful. It’s only then you’ll come to understand it to the highest extent. That Gojo loves you after all, more than anything mortal in his world. He can hold all of you in his hands, keep you safe for the rest of your life. It’s what he wants so badly. If you just give him the chance to protect you - he could do it so easily.

Religion can be so much like a dog and its master. Maybe, you could understand Gojo’s feelings if you saw it as an animal instinct to protect you. Even if it’s a falsity, a fictitious tale, detached from what's true.

He doesn’t want you to hate him. He’s your watch dog, your keeper, your divine love. He needs you all to himself and he needs you to understand that you’re his reprieve. That in a universe decided by fate, the two of you are also red strings knotted together perversely.

He needs you. He needs you. He needs you.

Snow is falling.

Come Saturday, Gojo receives a knock on his door.

He’s usually sleeping in on the weekends, so he’s startled by it. School doesn’t start till later and if it was an emergency relating to sorcery - Yagi would’ve dialed him personally. He answers the door with sleep still in his, rubbing his eyelids as he yawns. He’s dressed in his P.J.’s with his hair messy and mind jumbled.

He’s not unhappy though, when he opens the door up to see you. You’ve got something in your arms, a bag it looks like and a look on your face that Gojo can’t decipher.

“Oh,” He says after registering who he’s talking to you “What’re you doing here so early?”

You sigh, deeply, rubbing your arm. That anxious little habit again, your eyes darting every which way.

“A pipe broke in my apartment. Like, flooded the whole thing. Spent the whole morning scrounging my stuff together a-and I called maintenance but they won’t be here for a while and.” You stutter as you explain yourself and Gojo stares at you in confusion “I need a place to stay but going back to my parents right now is gonna be so hard and plus there’s work,”

Gojo soothes you silently, putting a hand up.

“Hey, calm down,” He says first, smiling up at you. He reaches out to pat your head “I’m here. It’s okay. Slow down and tell me what's wrong?”

You sigh, closing your eyes and bracing yourself.

“Would it be alright if I stayed with you? Just for a few days, until I figure this all out?”

If God exists, maybe this is his way of giving Gojo grace. Gojo takes a minute to pretend, leans against his door frame and watches you fidget anxiously. He blinks at you, the way your teeth are pressing into your lip. You fold underneath the pressure of his gaze easily. He hums and haws.

“Hm,” He says, leaving you uncertain for as long as he can before you try to react. He’s memorized all your tells by heart “Well, there’s no reason not to, right? You’ll have to sleep in my bed though.”

He half-jokes, but not really. He waits on your reaction.

“Oh, uhm, then,”

He interrupts just then, raising his voice. You jump back.

“Just kidding! Of course you can stay with me. I’ll take the couch for a few days so don’t worry your pretty little head about it, okay? Stay as long as you like.”

You look relieved. It makes Gojo smile a bit watching you take a deep breath, leaning on the door frame as he stares.

“What?” You ask when you notice. He shakes his head.

“It’s cute when you get nervous,” He says, inhibitions lowered. You pout at him and Gojo has to stop himself from reaching forward to grab your face in his hands.

“You’re so mean,” You say with a sigh, arms crossed over your chest “I was really freaking out just now,”

“I know, I know - but it’s kinda fun watching you fuss. Dunno. Maybe it’s cause I’m sleepy,”

“You're wide awake right now!” You point out. He snorts.

“Noo, what? I’m half-asleep right now,”

“Gojo,” You whine, and he has to stop the blood rushing through his body “Let me in? Please?”

“Try Satoru. Sa-to-ru,” He says. You frown at him, sighing as you rub your face.

“Satoru,” You say, hardly getting the syllables out “L-let me in,”

He pats your head one more time as your frown deepens.

“Good girl,” He purrs, before switching his tone to a more lax one as he welcomes you “Come on in!”

Another sigh of relief. Gojo finds it fascinating that you can find relief in his presence. It speaks to how well he’s been doing to make sure he’s acting in accordance to expectations. Despite how easy the opportunity has fallen into him, he doesn’t think it’s time yet. You’re still skittish.

Still, he should get something out of your stay here. And he will, but he should let you settle in first. He gives you a hum as you shuffle inside, standing awkwardly in his living room. He shuts the door behind you and locks it up.

“Don’t be so stiff,” He says, waving a hand in the air before yawning “My home is your home. Be comfortable. Is there anything you need or wanna do?”

“Could I borrow your shower?”

Gojo feels something pressing into his ribs at the idea of you using his things - sharp and sinful.

“I was gonna shower this morning but, y’know.” You gesture vaguely. He’s quick to agree of course, nodding his head as he points in the general direction of the bathroom.

“Pretty sure our places are built the same so you should know where it is. The towels on the rack are all clean. Feel free to use anything in there and uhhh,” He scratches his head unsure of what else he needs to add. Though he’s certain he’s missing something “Oh, and I’ll give you some clothes,”

You flush at the sentiment. So maybe you do know what this seems like, at least on the surface. Gojo peers at you as you turn his words over, interjecting before you have a chance to refuse.

“Don’t say no,” He says, voice sing-songy. watching your expression morph into something nervous again. Maybe you caught it, because you certainly jump in your skin, but he switches into himself with ease. Over and over and over - startling you never gets less fun “Let me play out my domestic fantasies a bit as compensation,”

“That’s a bad joke,” You say, throat thick.

You want to trust him don’t you? He wants to praise you for that.

“Aw, c’mon. It’s lonely. Let me indulge a little,” He begs with enough lightheartedness that you don’t run away.

“Geez. I thought you were popular with the ladies,” You try and joke back, though it’s stilted and awkward. He can tell you’re getting prepared to squeeze to the bathroom before the conversation is too much.

“Old ladies do love me,” He says contemplative. You elbow him lightly.

“Stupid.”

He gives you a soft smile as you pass by him.

“Is there anything else that you need while you’re in there?”

“I don’t think so,” You reply back. Gojo watches you disappear into the hall, trailing after you silently. He waits, listening carefully for the sound of the shower to turn on.

When the water rushes, he follows you.

He almost has a conscious standing in front of the closed door. The water pressure in his apartment is a little higher than it’s supposed to be. The closed walls keep all the noise inside them, making it almost impossible to hear what’s going on outside. Even with heightened senses like him.

For someone like you, it’s probably impossible.

It’s knowing that he follows behind you, lying in wait. He counts up to 5 minutes as he waits, letting you settle into it before he puts his hand on the door knob. He finds it unlocked. He’s pleased with that.

You trust him, or you try too.

When he feels certain you’re relaxed, he opens the door. He could teleport in but it’s noisy. Steam plumes outward as the door opens. He looks around the bathroom. Your clothes are folded neatly, with your pants hanging on the rack next to you.

He stares at the fabric for a long time, contemplating what he has time for.

Ultimately, he suppresses whatever urges come up to do what he came for. Too many to count and even more that are risky to act on. Instead, he checks the tags of each piece, committing it to memory. After, he stares at the shower curtain until he’s sure he overstayed his welcome.

He leaves right after though, shutting the door just as quietly as he opened it.

The less you know the better. Gojo makes his way back into the living room.

He sits on his couch when he’s back. The sun hasn’t come up yet and he’s only turned on a single lamp for light. It’s hard for him to describe how he’s feeling. Things have been different for weeks now, but proceeding normally hasn’t caused him too many issues. Strangely the sense of routine has been grounding.

He’s been dealing with it better than he expected. For all of that restraint to unravel so quickly is funny.

But, Gojo thinks, that everything leading up to now must’ve been a sign. There are so many instances that befall him that feel aligned with fate. He’s naive in thinking you're different. He’s the only heir of the Gojo clan, the only one with the Six Eyes for nearly 400 years. He hears the water rush faintly through the walls of his apartment, picturing you trapped in those four walls. He thinks of how you met. Your proximity to each other.

It’s only now and in such circumstances does he think that you’re the due that the universe is paying back to him. Robbed of everything, of every joy he’s ever had - it’s both righteous and fair to take you. Gojo doesn’t want you to hate him. Not necessarily.

But they always say in sickness and in health. Through the best of times and the worst. If you were made for him like he suspects (like he knows, believes deep down) then he thinks it’ll be fine. As long as it's you. As long as it’s yours. Even if you cry or scream, what matters to Gojo is that it’s yours. That he’s yours.

Holding back is starting to be too much. Gojo’s never been the type to sit on his hands and wait. Being scared is so much like starving. Deprivation like that always threatens to turn Gojo to ruin.

But like anything he does though, he can’t take the easy way out. There’s a method to the madness. An order even among his most disorderly actions, there’s things that need to be done the right way for the best possible outcome. On less of a whim than it seems, Gojo decides that he’ll do his best to make that reality happen.

The thought settles in his body and suddenly he’s present again. He feels a pang of hunger in his stomach, causing him to stand to his feet. He feels lighter as he waltzes into the kitchen, whistling to himself on what he should make. Maybe crepes? He’s not a skilled cook but he’s pretty good at making those.

At the very least, he thinks you’ll like them too. He proceeds into a normal-ish routine. He follows the motions of making breakfast as he hums to himself silently. Grabs a bowl from the cupboard, eggs and milk from the fridge, and flour from the pantry.

He thinks to himself, immersing himself in the practical ritual. His comment from earlier about domestic fantasies was a half-joke at best. Gojo really does want to do this kind of thing with you, and he doesn’t want to miss the opportunity to play the part either. Even if it’s temporary. He’s giddy at the thought of doing this with you everyday, a warm fluttery feeling spreading through his body.

He grabs a whisk off of the wall as he dumps everything into an empty bowl, turning the heat of a non-stick low. He whistles a song he can’t remember the name of, cracking an egg on the metal edge.

Despite living in a nicer part of Tokyo, Gojo has yet to have an induction stove top. It’s not uncommon to have gas for smaller, cheaper apartments. Most of the stovetops in the Jujutsu Tech dorms are gas and Gojo has no issue using them. He doesn’t cook for himself often in the first place, so he’s never thought to complain about it or get it changed.

Maybe he should. Once you live here, it might get inconvenient. The thing about gas stoves is that they never heat evenly. It’s not impossible to work with, and the heat is easier to control - but induction lets every inch of the pan get hot the same way.

( He often thinks of the analogy for boiling a frog. If you put anything living in heat too directly, it’ll jump to save itself. But if you keep the heat tepid, gently raising the heat till it boils - it’ll let itself stay in the treacherous waters until the very end. It’s best to keep the heat even. It’s best to fix it sometime soon. )

The whisk makes a pleasant sound as it hits the bowl, metallic scratch softened by the presence of batter. He picks the whisk up and watches the yellow liquid drip off the edge, a hand over the pan. Still too cool to the touch, he clicks his teeth.

He waits, idly. The shower turns off, he hears, and feels his breath hitch. He has to steel himself, curb his enthusiasm.

Too much heat, and you’ll jump to save yourself.

Once the pan is hot enough, Gojo busies himself with cooking. It helps him distract himself, the monotony of pouring and flipping and waiting. He gets through almost 6 before he hears your feet pad gently across his hardwood floor, slipping into the kitchen with a towel wrapped around your neck.

You’re wearing what seems like the only clothes you managed to bring. Gojo wonders how long it’ll last you. Despite it, he notices the way you smell. How you smell like all of his fancy bath products and soaps. There’s a twitch in his sweats that he barely gets under control. He lowers the heat and turns to you.

“Morning,” He says. You giggle a little.

“Morning. Are you making breakfast?”

“Yes ma'am. The only thing I know how to make but,” He puffs his chest up “Pretty good, I’m told.”

You roll your eyes at him, but smile anyway

“Guess I’ll be the judge of that,”

“The audacity,” He says, full of theatrics “I’ll knock your socks off,”

“Oh, I’m sure you will,” You say, flippant and giggly. Gojo decides then, maybe, in its entirety. That he’ll have all of you and soon “Can I help with anything?”

“Get started on some coffee maybe,”

You nod your head and yawn.

“Sounds good to me,”

You decide to stay for a week.

More precisely, Gojo convinces you to stay for a week. That’s how long it will take for your apartment to get fixed completely. Concerned about inconveniencing him, you initially suggested 3 days - insisted you could find somewhere else or pay for a hotel for the rest of the time.

But Gojo insisted too. A week is more than fine (even longer would be better) and there’s no reason for you to go out of your way. Hotels are expensive, your parents live out in the countryside, and it’s not like you can’t board with a friend for a few days right?

But won’t that trouble you? Of course not. Gojo doesn’t mind at all. It’s like having a week-long sleep-over.

I don’t have the stuff I need. That’s fine. Gojo can take care of it. He already bought some clothes for you, an act of kindness. He can get the rest too. You can consider it a favor, if you really want to be sure.

Are you sure? Of course he’s sure. More than sure. You’re doing him a big favor, he assures with nothing but affection. Being alone at home is pretty boring, anyways. What’s sleeping in the same room when we’re neighbors?

Even with your unease, you agree to stay the whole week. You’re weak to being convinced, and hard-pressed on not fighting about things Gojo is adamant on.

(He’d be stupid not to notice how your earnesty makes you easy to exploit. It’s a good thing it’s only Gojo who knows.)

The first day passes quietly. You and Gojo go to your respective jobs and greet each other when you get home. At home, things are simple. Domestic. There’s no other way to view it. You graded papers and looked over lesson plans in the living room while Gojo got in his daily sets - TV playing in the background with neither of you particularly tuned in. Gojo sleeps on the couch.

(He doesn’t make it a day without touching himself. The proximity is too much, too stimulating, and even with all of the restraint in the universe - it’s hard for him to stave it off. What you don’t know can’t hurt you. Alone under the moon, he thinks of what you look like when you’re embarrassed and spills into his hand.

Eventually, he’ll graduate to watching over you. You leave the door unlocked because you’re naive and Gojo stands with his cock in his fist, watching intently. You squirm in your sleep but you sleep deeply - because despite all the noise, you don’t stir one even once. He stops it from touching you, so close to your mouth, to your skin. )

On the second day of living together, the clothes Gojo bought you come to his door. You’re not home when it arrives, so he waits until you are home to open it with you. You come home a little later than usual (parent-teacher conferences, apparently).

(“I have a surprise for you!” Gojo says, as finally comes back into the living room. You’ve returned from your shower, on your last pair of PJ’s. You blink at him softly, tilting your head to one side as he hands you a package.

“For me?” You ask. Gojo nods, grinning.

“For you,” He confirms. He walks with you as you set the box onto the coffee table. You stare at it for a minute, glancing up at Gojo. Your eyes search for your keys. Once you find them, you take the sharpest key and rip through the tape on the top of its sides. An unceremonious krrk sounds through the room, echoing in the dimly lit living room.

The clothes are wrapped in white, plastic packaging. You pick them individually, examining them closely. You look at Gojo again, more uncertain than before.

But Gojo shakes his head, nudging you towards opening the packages themselves. A promise to explain afterwards, silent in the air. You nod, confused, but do as he suggests. You rip the top open, dropping the thin plastic onto the table. More bags, this time clear. You repeat the action until the material flounces in your hands. You undo the careful folding for a minute, then stare at it.

“...Clothes?” You repeat.

“Surprise!” He says with his usual silly cadence “For you, free of charge.”

A lot of things pass over your expression. Gojo watches each of them carefully, amused. He wonders what you’ll do. What you’re thinking, it’s a shame Gojo can’t read your mind.

“How’d you know my size?” You say first, inquisitive but not accusatory. Gojo shrugs.

“Guessed. We’ve spent enough time together,” He says noncommittally. Your face changes, like you don’t quite believe him. But there’s not enough there for you to question him either. He can almost hear you narrate it in your head. The heart you wear on your sleeve, tender red and bleeding, thumps anxiously as you try to get a read on him. It’s not a sound he dislikes.

He’s been good to you. He’s just being nice. You shake your head, regretful of your own doubt for a minute. You force a smile, and Gojo doesn’t hate it even though he knows where it comes from.

The power of love, he thinks almost whimsically.

“This is a big box. How much stuff did you even get?” You repeat, noticing the contents are up to the top. He feigns indifference. Pretends not to know that he spent countless hours looking over it.

“Mm, dunno. Just whatever I thought you’d need.”

“I’m only here for a week, Gojo.” You mutter, hands grazing over the cardboard edge.

“So? Maybe you need a lot of stuff. I don’t know what women go through.” He says with a pout, lips together. Joking with you to lighten the mood, which makes you huff through your nose.

“You’re so dumb. It’s too much stuff,”

“I already bought it and I don’t feel like returning it,” He tells you, making it clear he’s not going to negotiate “Just think of it as a gift from Santa Claus.”

You snort.

“You even have the hair,” You reply. Trying to make yourself feel better in the process, Gojo gives you a half smile “Still. I feel like I’m really indebted to you, lately.”

“Yeah? You can count this week as one big favor, if that makes it easier.”

“I don’t remember Santa doing favors for people,” You quip. Gojo laughs.

“Change in management,”

You laugh a real laugh at that, and Gojo watches you turn the situation over again and again.

“Well. Thank you. Might as well look through the rest of it, huh?”

“Take your time,” Gojo says, before checking the digital clock on his wall “I need to go get something from the store. Just leave the empty stuff next to the trash and I’ll take it out tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah. I’ll start on dinner. See you, Gojo.”

“Yeah. See you” )

If you notice all the clothes come in shades of blue, you’re smart enough not to say anything.

The third day passes in a blur. Nothing notable, but he’s content. You wear the clothes Gojo bought you and he’s careful not to stare while you know. He takes it upon himself only to do it when he knows you’re asleep, his nightly routine staring over the bare inches of your body in a dark room being a reprieve of his other desires.

On the fourth day, he doesn’t have the restraint not to touch you. Too many days in the same room and he wants access to everything already. He hates being patient more than he thought, but there’s a method to this - he has to remind himself.

Like taking out his aggression, he decides he needs more relief. Something to scratch the itch. With his infinity, you can’t feel his fingers ghosting over your legs. He checks if you’re wearing the other stuff he bought, settled at the bottom of the box. Not lingerie, but panties. Plain and cottony - white over your cunt as you sleep with your leg hiked up. Gojo knows you can’t feel him now, but part of him wants you too. He wants to know why you’re wearing them despite yourself. Gojo realizes too late that he’s interested in your misery just as much as he is everything else, and so far - that discovery has made everything all the more difficult.

On the fifth day, things proceed the same. There’s a routine you’ve settled into together despite the time limit on it. That night over dinner, you and Gojo spend time together. There’s not really much to do - it’s a Friday. It’s the first time neither of you are completely occupied with any one task.

You get to talking like that. On the fifth day, Gojo gets as close to opening up as he’s ever gotten in his life. Part of him isn’t sure why he does it. He thinks he’s seeking confirmation for something, but what that could be is lost on him.

(“So, you’re the only person left in your clan?” You ask, half-way through a glass of tea he’s sure has gone cold by now. The T.V. is on but muted. Gojo looks at you in the low lights, fighting his own sleep.

“Mhm. Technically, I’m the sole heir.” He replies.

“...Is it okay to ask what happened?”

Gojo laughs at you. You really can’t help your curiosity, but he still finds it amusing.

“It’s not a pretty story,” Gojo says honestly.

“That’s okay,” You say, voice filled with an air of innocence that Gojo has a hard time wrapping his head around.

“Most of them were wiped out. We had a lot of enemies, me included. A lot of them are dead, the remaining are somewhere far-away and have no combat abilities.”

“You included?” You pick up on, naturally. Gojo nods and smiles a little.

“Once I inherited my technique it was pretty commonplace. I went through a lot of assassination attempts,” He yawns in between, because this is an old, boring story “It took a lot of time for me to get strong enough to where I am now. But I got there eventually.”

“You say that so easily,”

Gojo peers at the frown on your face and laughs quietly to himself.

“It was a long time ago, now. I never really had a lot to mourn, except for when I was a teenager. I’m used to it.”

For a long time, you remain completely silent. Gojo almost thinks you’re going to cry. He doesn’t know how to feel about that. It’s proof of something. Of his ambivalence towards the idea of sympathy. Sure, it’s meaningless now for someone to feel bad for him. It’s a pointless endeavor, because Gojo is a selfish dick and the strongest - and he knows both of those things intimately. He accepts them as part of himself in the same way, he doesn’t know what he’s like without being frivolous. Without being the strongest. The line between misery and character is paper thin and Gojo hasn’t known it since he was born.

It’s especially pointless for you to feel bad for him, because he’s going to ruin that very innocence you hold in your heart before the week is over. He’s going to do it with purpose and conviction. He won’t feel remorseful about it at all.

There’s an irony to it. A dramatic irony that brings him closer to Godliness than he’s ever really been. Because Gojo knows that this conversation is confirmation that he needs you, just as much as he knows he’ll do anything to have you even if it means you can no longer look at him like this.

He wonders how long you’ll hold sympathy for him. He decides for now, there’s no reason to not lean into it. It makes him happy that you care enough to feel sad. Even if it’s pointless. He doesn’t remember the last time someone did.

Maybe when he was 17.

“You look like you’re gonna cry.” He says lightheartedly. Sincere in a way he hasn’t been in very well over 10 years. You sniffle.

“How are you not crying?”

“I never cry.” Gojo says smoothly, not blinking “I’m a heartless bastard.”

“That’s not true.” You say, almost exclaim, turning yourself to look at him so seriously. It’s cute, he must admit, that you’re so sure on his character “You’re not heartless,”

“But I am a bastard,” He clarifies, mischievous. And you pout, less eager to correct him on that

“...You’re not heartless. Clearly.” You say again. Gojo laughs, a real laugh. He can feel it preemptively, how much he’ll cherish every minute of this conversation. He hums.

“Oho, you almost sound like you’re defending me.”

“From yourself, I guess. I know you’re not heartless,” You say, with some kind of clarity that you have him figured out. Maybe you do. It’s a little shocking. It’s not usually how this goes “You’re…weird. But you care”

“That’s true,” Because it is, and Gojo has no reason to lie to you right now. “More than that, I’m hung up on the idea of the future.”

“Isn’t it usually being hung-up on the past?”

“Right? Usually, that’d be the case,” Gojo says, unsure of what to express “But the past is the past. I can’t go back to it. My technique is infinity. It means I can see infinite realities.”

You sound like the winds been knocked out of you “That’s terrifying,”

“It is. But you know, even in those realities, the past is the past. There are places where the past hasn’t happened. But it can’t be changed. It becomes part of infinity, when events occur. The only thing that can be changed is the future,” Gojo explains, though he leaves out so many intricacies “There’s a future I want to see. I’d like if my students could see it too,”

“Because of your friend, right?”

Gojo smiles.

“Because of my friend. And for less selfless reasons.”

“Like?” You ask, curious.

“I like being able to do whatever I want, without consequences. Being strong lets me do that. For now it’s up to me, but eventually, I can raise strong comrades.”

You’re silent for a while, again.

“Seems lonely,” You say, simply. Easily. It’s true, and he knows that. It’s the most obvious thing in the world, and you’ve said it with little regard for anything. Almost mindlessly, a natural response to such a sad story.

Gojo feels it again. Those stifling, pesky emotions that linger in the cavity of his ribs. He can’t bring himself to be honest, because when does he ever? But he does smile again, a little more melancholy than usual. You notice, certainly, but you have the courtesy not to say a word.

“You think so?” Gojo says, passive and wilfully ignorant “Does it make you wanna hug and console me?”

He offers it sarcastically, but you don’t tear your eyes away from him. It’s almost enough to shake him. Almost.

“...A little? You feel like a sad dog in the rain.” You say, too honestly.

“Jeez. Maybe you just miss Pokupan. Thinking about another man right in front of me. I can’t believe I’m the other woman,” He says, with a faux pout.

You laugh, though it’s laced with sympathy. Gojo can tell you want to fuss. That you want to admonish him for being the way he is, and he’s almost willing to let you. That’s just the thing.

You see Gojo as human, still.

Gojo Satoru isn’t God. But he isn’t human either. If you want to know how God lives, asking Gojo is always viable. But you shouldn’t mistake false omnipotence for forgiveness, like you are now. You see Gojo for all of his humanity, but you're blind to his divinely violent tendencies. You will be until it’s too late.

So, Gojo doesn’t think you need to comfort him how you’re thinking you should. Gojo wants you to depend on him. Because coveting you is an affair distinctly inhuman and crueler than even the heavens could be and he believes that you’re owed to him.

Gojo wants to protect this version of you, even at the sake of corrupting it. He doesn’t want to let you go ever, for any reason. And he wont.

He turns the heat up gently. You’re none-the-wiser. The night swallows you both, but Gojo will remain untouched. He’ll hold you when it inevitably spits you back out. When reality washes into you, you should’ve trusted your gut after all.

For now, he smiles at you.

“If it’s any consolation, I’d be very sad if you disappeared.” Which Gojo hopes you can interpret without his interference. It seems like you do, because you smile to yourself.

“Me too,” You reply. Gojo knows he’s going to ruin you. “I’d be really sad if you disappeared, Gojo. So, don’t, okay?”

And if Gojo were an honest person, or a good one - he’d tell you you’re the last person who should worry about missing him. That you’ll be seeing him for a long time.

But he’s neither, just like he’s not god or man. He lightens his tone and holds out his pinky, which you link with his.

“Scouts honor,”

When he’s ready to look away, you pull a bare thread from Gojo’s clothes. Frowning at him, as you dust away the fabric with your hand. He stares at you.

“What was that?”

“You had a thread loose,” You say simply, unconcerned with anything “I just pulled it off.”

Gojo stares.

“Yeah. Thanks.”)

The sixth day passes quickly. Gojo doesn’t think there’s anything worthy of saying. By then the routine is so practiced and so constant. The sixth day passes like a shadow in the night, disappearing through the woods before morning comes. A stepping stone.

Today is the 7th day.

On the 7th day, things are different. The same but different as they so often are. You don’t have work today, so you do what you’ve been doing. You and Gojo work in proximity to each other, share meals, and idly watch T.V.

Night falls on the 7th day.

Gojo wants to take part in the act of creation, as the sun dips below the horizon. He’d set this in motion when the week started and now that it’s here - the anticipation is too much to bear. When Gojo Satoru sets himself out to be conqueror, the universe trembles at the sight of him. There’s no sound at all. The night reeks of death, in Gojo’s presence it trembles. Too fearsome to speak.

Night falls today. Gojo starts his usual routine with less caution than he’s had the previous six. Where he usually bides his time and enters the room carefully - today he merely enters. He places his hand on the silver handle and pushes it open. A breath rushes from his lungs, adrenaline entering his system as he steps inside. His room has felt so unfamiliar to him lately, but like this - a sense of serenity washes over him.

He stares at you. With his Six Eyes, with vision clear as ever, Gojo looks onto you as you are now. You can never reconstruct a flower crushed under steel boots. You’re not mud or earth, not adaptable like the sea. From the moment he’s met you - Gojo has known you to be so much like a flower. Gojo has never wanted to take the petals off of something so much in his life.

And Gojo is in this instance, a natural disaster ready to pluck the root of you up from the ground. He’ll pick you up in a storm but return you to his feet. There’s a method to this. Gojo stares at your silhouette wrapped and tangled in his sheets, body so loosely dressed. Your visible figure rests easy.

The night is glorious and silent. Gojo watches on in some cross of indifference and utter starvation. He blinks, leans on the wall.

Like a call from fate, you start to stir awake.

Gojo moves towards you. He decides it might be easier just to join you in bed, so he gently works himself into the sheets.. He creeps towards you slowly, and re-familiarizes himself with the feeling of his bed. It’d be lost on him for a week, but your presence in it makes it feel especially brand new. The bed dips under his weight, creaking. You shift lethargically, turning your head to look at Gojo.

You look startled once you realize. For the first time in your entire relationship, it seems to dawn on you that something is wrong. Just a minute too late. He gives you a second to wake up. Your breath hitches, a stifled gasp as you greet Gojo’s expression.

The hunger in his stomach is gnawing. Gojo feels like he’s starving. He thinks doing this will only half-way relieve the urge. This part of Gojo is inhuman as the rest of him.

Gojo’s presence suffocates you so much in the moment, you can only barely open your lips to say your next words.

“What are you doing here?” You sound still innocent. Gojo smiles briefly, under the glow of the moon. He can see your expression clearly. Sleep in your vision. A sheerness to your skin that comes with rest. Your bags are packed, and your things are cleared from his bathroom. You’re still wearing the clothes he bought.

He knows he shouldn’t think it, but some part of him is vindicated. You’re leaving him today and Gojo finds abandonment to be the highest betrayal of them all. So, he’s vindicated. He licks his teeth, usual mirth coming back to him.

Then he talks, his voice tender.

“Getting my debts repaid,” And he means it, more than he’s ever meant anything he’s said “You owe me one, remember?”

It dawns on you. Realization flickers in your eyes before it twists into fear. Gojo wants to encourage it. A curse starts to form, like tendrils around you. You’ll leave it here when you’re gone in the morning and Gojo will have a piece of you left with him.

“W-what are you…? What do you mean?”

He’s shrill, almost, leaning close to you. His sudden proximity makes you freeze. You know better, know so clearly it stops you from running. Gojo is tempted to see if you’ll do it. If you’ll run or if you’ll thrash or if you’ll fight. He’s not particularly sadistic, but he likes you - and he’s curious to know what your reaction will be to something like this.

He eases you into it, He brushes his knuckles over your cheek as your heart sky-rockets like you’re being hunted. Gojo thinks he ought to be gentle with you. Regardless of how this is happening, it’s your first time together. Your fingers tremble as you reach up to grab his wrist. It seems like you’re trying hard to pull him off, and wiggle away from his grip. You ready yourself to give him push back and Gojo times it so that it seems like you’ll be able to break free.

But Gojo is strong. Stronger than you by a lot, and you know that by now. When he finds that you’re trying to escape him, he’s quick to grab your wrists with his hands. They both fit perfectly in his palms. He pulls them up over your head and your eyes widen as you feel his grip - near bruising (though he is trying so hard to be gentle) on your body. He stares down at you.

You look so frightened.

“Wh-what are you..?”

“You owe me one for letting you stay here, right?” He asks enthusiastically, licking his teeth. Your eyes widen “I’ll take this as compensation, okay? It’s a good deal for us both I think,”

“I don’t,” You squirm underneath him “I don’t—I,”

“Shh,” He quiets you, humming softly “Don’t overcomplicate it. Just wanna see you,”

Gojo watches you turn it over in your head. He was wondering about this. What’d you do in these circumstances. If you’d act like you always do, pleasant and pliable trying to do what's best. Damage control for what's coming.

Gojo pulls his hands away to undress you and yours fly to his shoulder blades. You heave as you push, mumbling something about how he doesn’t need to do this. Your expression is grief-stricken. Gojo soothes you.

“You can bite, scratch, kick, scream - whatever works,” Gojo says, communicating his affection as best he can. He drives his hands under your shirt, laying his palm flat over the skin of your stomach. He runs his thumbs over your sides, committing every inch of you to memory. Without his infinity, Gojo feels every part of you “It’s not gonna hurt me,”

You look like you’re at a loss for words. He gives you a warm grin.

“Maybe we’re going about this all wrong,” Gojo says after some thought “Is this your first time?”

You whimper, nodding meekly. Gojo groans against your skin. You flinch.

“Fuck, course it is. Shoulda known. Such a sheltered girl like you,” He adds the last part with a hint of condescension, watching your face curl up into a frown.

“Didn’t say it was a bad thing you know,” Gojo is careful as he pulls your shirt higher and higher. Your breath is being held, afraid of what’ll happen if you let g.o “We’re tied together like this. Isn’t that nice?”

“Gojo,” You say, swallowing something. Words that threaten to bubble up that you can’t find the strength to say. You’re not wearing anything underneath and Gojo feels a chill in his spine “Please,”

“Not wearing a thing even though you’ve been sleeping at a man's house all week,” He reprimands. He lets the material sit over the swell of your chest, just under your neck where it stays. He can see the outline of your tits clearly now, just enough light from the open window to illuminate your skin. Your nipples are hard, heaving. Gojo can hear your little heartbeat thump against your ribs “I’m not telling you off you know? I’m glad you trust me. Great job, on that really. But you really should be more careful.”

“Gojo,” You plead again, throaty. The sound goes through his system, sends blood rushing to his cock.

“Satoru,” He insists on, knowing it will take more than that to convince him “I’ll try and listen to your requests if you say Satoru,”

He doesn’t promise to stop, because he doesn’t think he’d be able to follow up on it. Still, with the level of desperation you show - Gojo thinks it’s worth it to gain something out of. You follow up his request almost instantly, lips wrapping around the syllables with a weak breath.

“S-Satoru,”

He gestures to take your shirt off. You’ve become more pliable, if only a little, letting Gojo see all of you completely bare as he tosses his clothes somewhere onto the floor. Shameless in viewing you, your instincts kick in to cover your chest. He clicks his teeth, pushing your wrists together again over your head.

“That won’t do,” He coos at you softly “I wanna see you. All of you,”

You hiccup, sobbing, Gojo reaches his palms towards your breasts, cupping them gently. Your nipples rub against his palms and he groans feeling how soft you are.

“So pretty,” He admires you. Means it. Gojo lets his gaze catch on the edges and curves of you with enthusiasm. Your chest is sensitive to his touch, thumb and forefinger tweaking and teasing your nipples as you remain underneath him obediently. Your eyes look so watery, soft like lilies in freshwater “So cute,”

“Satoru, please, I don’t—don’t want—”

“So ungrateful,” He tsks. He smacks your chest lightly, enough to make you squeal “That’s the only request I can’t listen to,”

You hiccup, looking away. Gojo hums as he hovers over you, seated over your figure. He pulls his mask off from his eyes, material falling into his fingers. Grabbing your wrists with his palms, he wraps the material around them - tight enough to keep you but with enough room so it doesn’t hurt. He places your hands over your head gently, kissing your covered wrists.

“Don’t squirm too much, ‘kay? Stay like that. I’ll make you feel good.”

“I don’t,”

“Hey,” This time he’s stern, and you slink back into yourself. It’s the first time he’s had to use this tone on you and hopefully the last “What’d I say? You owe me this much, don’t you think? After everything I’ve done for you, the least you can do is not turn me away. It’s not like I wanna do anything bad with you, y’know”

A pang of guilt passes through you. You stop squirming. Gojo keens, baring his teeth as he smiles.

“Good girl.” He dips his head to kiss the place under your ear, where your neck meets your jaw. He scrapes his teeth on the skin so you can feel his teeth over your pulse “You learn quick.”

You keep your arms over your head like he’s asked, hesitant and stiff. Gojo can work with that at least. He leans towards you, tipping your jaw so you’re forced to look at him. Tear-eyed and whimpering, a shudder passes through him.

“So pretty,” He mumbles. He leans forward, presses his lips to yours - hand resting on the base of your neck. You make a noise of indignance but Gojo keeps you there. He eases you into obedience, forcing his tongue in your mouth, grazing the inside of your mouth.

He swallows every sound you make. Distress and frustration and reluctance lend themselves to giving in easily. Your body is sensitive to touch, a trail of goosebumps where his hands touch you. On your waist, trying to ease you into it.

He pulls away from you, a string of saliva connecting you.

“First kiss?” He asks. You shy away, clamping your mouth shut. Gojo chuckles, teeth nipping at you “Didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

You remain silent, so Gojo fills the space.

“Mm,” Gojo presses kisses down the curve of your jaw, all the way down your neck where he stops and bites - hard enough for something to be there tomorrow. He undresses the rest of you. You try to resist this time too, but Gojo doesn’t bother putting up a show. It’s easy to overpower you. He tugs your shorts off with your panties and tosses them somewhere. Unceremonious and uncharacteristically impatient.

He takes his time now that you’re all naked. It’s thrilling to watch distress fill your lungs, a ballooned breath and muffled protest. Gojo sucks hickies into your bare skin. It’s only fair to give you something to look at while you’re departed. Your blood rushes, capillaries breaking under the hardness of his incisors - ridges pushed against your delicate skin. He licks the bruises afterwards, kisses them tenderly.

“Gonna be a little sore for a while,” He says warmly. You’ve hit the stage of grief where you’re angry and resilient again but one look from Gojo is enough to make you slink back “Might as well enjoy yourself.”

Despair flashes in your expression.

“I mean it, you know.” He offers, stating it like he’s trying to appease you “You should relax a little, let it roll off your shoulders.”

It seems like you register that Gojo is teasing you. He does mean it, about thinking you should enjoy it. Everything else is deliberate and you know as much. It’s good you’re starting to understand him a little better.

“Why are you doing this to me?” You ask hoarsely. Gojo is surprised by your question.

“Ah, it’s a secret, so you can’t tell,” He starts. He squeezes the fat of your chest in his palms, silver tongued and playful “I like things that I can keep.”

A flash of true horror washes over you and you almost go ragged in realization. Weakened in your resolve once glimmering so brightly, Gojo takes the opportunity to please. He kisses down your sternum, runs his hands across the sides of your chest. He presses this thumb against your hardened nipples, rubbing lightly. Gojo takes them into his mouth. He bites then licks like he licks a wound

It pleases him immensely when you respond. When you gasp in a helpless sort of way and go to cover your mouth in shame. A sense of delight washes over his body and he does it again and again. He teases, changes from sucking harshly to lapping oh-so gently on the skin. Over and over until your voice can longer be contained no matter how hard you try - sharp gasps and cries of desire filling the air.

When he thinks you’re worked up enough, he slots himself against you and nudges your legs apart. He can feel the heat from your bare skin against his body, clothed. How you tremble underneath him. He eases his hand down gently, fingers trailing down to your pussy.

You hiccup. A sob of defiance stifled with obvious arousal, forced from you so easily. Gojo laughs.

“You don’t wanna?” He pricks, intentionally. Gojo lets his middle finger ease along your slit, dragging his digits up and through - catching on your achy clit “Are you sure?”

It’s torture for you. Of course it is. A pretty, sheltered little thing. It’s your first time with something like this and he’s sure all this is too much for you. Even if you tell yourself you don’t want it, your body can’t refuse him. You can’t either, try as you might. That’s why your legs are spread and why you’re practically dripping for him. Gojo thinks of it as admission. Your clit is hard underneath the pad of his middle finger, as he rubs too light and too gently.

You cry out, pitchy and broken. Gojo laughs.

“You need it here,” He punctuates, adding enough pressure that you gasp “Need me to touch you here, hm?”

You shake your head at first. Gojo tucks himself against your chest, sucking the skin gently.

“Be more honest.” He encourages a mockery as he so barely presses his finger inside of you - threatening to touch but never doing it “What do you want?”

“Don’t, I don’t.” You say, or you try.

“Liar,” He snips playfully against your clavicle “Your pretty little pussy is dripping wet and you want me to believe that?”

Gojo smacks your cunt softly. Once, then twice, then three times for good measure as you cry.

“C’mon,” He encourages meanly “Tell me what you really want.”

It’s a sick little mind game that Gojo is having too much fun playing with you.

“P-please,” You stutter, so unbelievably broken with so little done to you at all. Gojo will take all of you at a later time. When you’re thoroughly pliable and broken and so beautiful all for him “Please.”

So dependent like Gojo always thinks you should be.

“Please what, hm? What are you asking for?”

You swallow thickly. All your dread and doubt and disbelief gone as a sense of real and true need ignites within you. Of course this is too much for you. Gojo overwhelmed you like this on purpose. The resentment of wanting despite it all, despite how miserable you are makes for something so tragically Gojo’s. Whatever you have in your heart will always be for him. Good or bad, ugly or beautiful - like this you are all his and so perfectly too. It’s titillating, the sensation of control that wisps around him. It strikes him like a hammer on hot iron.

Gojo wants you to say it. Wants your selfless little heart to beg for his mercy this once. You’ll understand some time later, that this is how Gojo loves. Selfish and twisted. Cruel. Intimate beyond mortal comprehension. All of him just for you, just like this.

Strangely, it's perfect. Gojo teases you some more. Toys with your clit and feels a pool of arousal rush and drip from your sore cunt. He hits it with the palm of his hands as you try to form the words. You tremble in his arms, a vestige of your will to resist.

You want to resist so badly, he can tell. But it hurts now to leave it alone and you want it despite yourself. It makes you so frustrated you cry. Limp, crystal tears down your face that Gojo licks up nearly immediately. Salty and bitter. Gojo kisses the apples of your cheek, nose nudging your skin.

“So cute when you give up.” Gojo praises sincerely. You sob somewhere deep inside of your “Be good and be honest. I’ll reward you, hm? How’s that?”

Gojo can feel the moment you give in completely. When acceptance settles over your hazy and contorted mind. You let the tides take you, curling into yourself. A sound like you’re in pain even though you’re not hurt.

“Please touch me.” You whisper, hoarse and defeated. Gojo laughs airy, peppering your face with kisses. You wince.

“Good girl.” He coos, dipping his fingers down lower and lower. Heel of his palms pressed into your swollen, needy clit “That’s all you had to do. Easy, right?”

You scowl at him (you try too).

“Open your legs, baby,”

You listen this time, opening your legs wide enough for him to touch. Your pussy is so wet for him. Sticky and soft like you’ll fall apart, Gojo thinks it feels divine, wants to squeeze and grope and touch until you’re disintegrated. He likes feeling you like this. Vocal chords strung tight, all the noises throaty and gone. You throb against him like you’re begging. Gojo doesn’t stand to let you acclimate, flipping between three fingers in a gentle rub to a soft and well-practiced spank.

Only when your words start to come out t0gether, like you’re spitting them out because they fill your mouth too quick - does Gojo bless you with any mercy. He lets his hands sink lower, deeper - until his middle finger brushes your twitching hole. Your breath hitches, and the hands once stuck to your side, reach for Gojo’s hard to hold.

He licks his teeth, some unspoken feeling sending an bullet through him as he feels your body resist. Needy thing you are and so untouched that even the point of your middle finger makes your breath slower. You’re wet enough he doesn’t need anything else to aid him. He pushes in slow, slow, slow - painstakingly carefully as your wetness envelops you.

Because he intends to cherish you in his own way, he resists the urge he feels to flip you right over and take you. He’s being kind, and you’ll realize it later - when you’ve adjusted to him a bit more and know when to pick your fights. If he didn’t think it’d ruin the set-up, he’d have flipped you on your back just feeling. Fucked you without any consideration, just to feel your pussy around him in a vice grip.

It’s all he can picture, but he shows restraint. He’ll fuck himself off on you when you’re sleeping maybe, just to scratch the urge. You might pass out before then.

He comes back to you like that, a promise to himself to give the relief he needs with the body he finds oh-so tempting. He pushes his perversion aside to touch you. You let out a little sound every time he fucks himself deeper, gets his middle finger down to the first bend the all the way to the knuckle.

When he thinks you’re adjusted - ready for more, he gives it to you without making you plead. He uses his ring finger this time - his longest ones and feels you stretch around. He groans, deep and appreciative, as he feels how tight you are. You preen, squeeze your thighs together and call his name

“Oh, Satoru, its.”

He shushes you before busying himself with tasting your skin. Closes his mouth around one of your tits as he repeats the process. In, in, in until he’s all the way to his knuckles. Fucks you till it’s easy, till you’re wanting more.

If he were more merciful, a good man or a better one - he’d stop here. He doesn’t though. A third finger has your eyes widening. You gasp. Gojo kisses your face again and again.

“Easy, easy,” He coos, voice coarse but encouraging “It’s a good exercise for the future.”

You don’t register the words and Gojo doesn’t expect you to. Even still, he thinks giving you the heads up is quite nice.

Three fingers proves to be more than enough. It pushes you to an edge he has seen before. He fucks you with three. Your mouth falls open, slack jawed. Gojo curls his fingers. He rubs up like he’s motioning for you to come here, deep enough until he feels it. That spongy spot inside of you, apparent through the sounds you start to make as he touches it.

He hits something of a stride like that, finger fucking you with pressure on your clit and his mouth on your skin. Gojo takes to watching you once he knows he’s getting you to that edge. Your body stiffens underneath him, breathing going noticeably shallow. Mouth wobbly, lower lip trembling. He can tell you’re feeling it, just as much as you’re resisting it. Gojo coaxes you by whispering against your skin.

“C’mon,” He hums, nudging his nose to your neck “You wanna cum don’t you? I can tell you. You too scared? Need me to help you.”

You whimper “Aah, aah,” Gojo can feel you pulse. Can feel your insides tighten. He’s doing it on purpose, tipping you just over the edge. He wants to hear you beg. Wants to know what it sounds like when you beg for him. He fucks into you slowly, until you’re no longer able to put on a show of being composed.

“S-sato—oh, please, oh—please m-make me,”

“Want me to making you cum? Say it. Say, ‘Satoru, please make me cum,’ can you do that?”

A bitter sob leaves your lips and Gojo can’t think straight. It strains you.

“S-satoru, pleasemakemecum—please.”

Gojo grins. “Of course I can,” He quickens his pace enough to make you feel it. Your eyes shoot open before screwing closed again “All you had to do was ask me.”

He watches you intently. How you fall apart under his fingers, delirious whimpers of no, no, no - even though you begged so sweetly a minute ago. He hums as he feels the walls of your pussy start to tremble, a soft squelching sound hastened now. You say something he can’t decipher, words too jumbled for him to make sense. Gojo stares hard. Lets the infinity bleed away so he can feel you just like this, feel you cum on his fingers despite everything.

He feels giddy to the point he’s sick with it, moaning as your hands grip at the roots of his hair. He kisses your breast tenderly, just over the latest lovemark.

“Don’t hate me too much, kay,” Gojo says, whispering, means it so you carry it with you because he can feel the resentment nudged so deep into your heart by now “Come on. Cum for me, sweet girl. Want you to feel so good.”

And so you do. You cry, scream - but the noise amounts to nothing. A cosmic thing, like you’ve been struck by a comet. Gojo fingers you through it, absolutely delighted at the hot rush of liquid that comes pouring out of you. Your first orgasm from him and you’re squirting all over his fucking wrists, soaking his sheets and his arms and his PJ’s with your back curved in a beautiful arch. You break apart in an almost violent way, like the pleasure’s vicious. It tears into you and you succumb with a whimper.

Gojo shushes you as you break down finally into a teeny, tiny sob. You must be exhausted because you don’t pull away when he comforts you, despite the little angry why, why, why that you whisper. You hit his chest softly. He kisses your forehead and listens as your breathing goes still and you fall asleep in a heart-beart, still curled up into his bed and too tired to run away or go anywhere.

He stays with you like that, relishing in the warmth of your body until you’re deep asleep. He flips you onto the side of the bed that isn’t wet, and presses a kiss to your forehead before moving out of the sheets. .

When he stands to his feet, it’s to collect the curse that’s gathered itself on the foot of the bed. It manifests as a white snake with blue-eyes. Gojo finds himself amused. Of course the curse you’ve made is pretty. Gojo grabs it by the neck, watching it as it pries its mouth open and bares his fangs at him. He grins, pricking himself on the teeth to see if it makes him bleed.

It hisses loudly before wrapping itself around Gojo’s arm. It doesn’t take any effort to subjugate it, sensing his power it stills with some effort. Gojo tilts his head as he walks out of the room, glancing at you before turning his head back at the snake.

“Better warm up to me,” He whispers in the dark, a contentment to his words “You won’t be seeing your mama for a while,”

—

Communication stills.

Radio silence, more like - a busy bunch of messages deftly still. Suddenly, a raging storm of grief and anger disappears. The morning after Gojo assaults you, he wakes up to see you off like nothings happened.

He mostly does this because he wants to see what you’ll do.

You spend the morning perplexed and confused. You eat breakfast with him. You sit at the table, contemplative and silent and Gojo chats away at you idly. About the news and the weather and the classes he has today. You chew your food but don’t taste. You listen but your replies are short and stilted - out of touch.

Gojo learns that when something bad happens to you, you respond to it by detaching yourself. Though yesterday you were hot and fiery, the day after you seem to be mourning. Your grieving process starts early, and Gojo thinks rather amused—that you remind him a lot of himself.

He thinks you’re a little closer now that you understand the apathy of losing something that can never come back. And once this whole thing is over, once you find yourself back here - he’ll tell you all about it. You get it now right? It’s painful to feel like you can never be the same.

They say that mankind was fashioned from their Lord. Gojo supposes he’s made you in his image. You look a little empty, and though you’re both so different - you can become close by having the same wound. You can understand him a little more this way, all while retaining your sense of resilience.

What is mankind not known for if not perseverance? Of course he knows, once you recover from your grief, you’ll return to your usual spitfire. He’s counting on it, counting on you to fight and run. Escape from him and never come back.

But that cat and mouse game is more than okay. Gojo isn’t looking for your obedience, really. You’re too defiant of a character. Gojo thinks it’d be pointless if you’d just stayed the same.

You need to have hope to stay the way you are. Thus, Gojo doesn’t plan to rob you of it. He figures it’s best to give you breathing room. After all, he has full confidence in his ability to find you. He could hear the rhythm of your heart a continent away and chase it down without thinking twice. But it’s better if you’re able to show him some resistance. He thinks of it like a compromise. That sort of thing is typical for married folks, he thinks. He gives and you take.

Eventually, you might realize that the endeavor of running away is fruitless. Maybe you’ll be clever enough to recognize that it’s not that you’re succeeding, but that Gojo is letting you. You’re definitely smart enough to do so early, but just stubborn enough to believe that there’s hope in spite of that. If you try hard enough, persevere a little more, etc.

Gojo likes this part of you. Always will. You always put your best in everything and this is his own way of nurturing it.

It’d be a shame to take that from you. Gojo has remained out of your sight for the time being to try and reinstate it. While he raises the curse up in his apartment, he watches you through windows and flitters into your bedroom to peer at you before disappearing again. He makes sure that you can’t sense him or that he’s gone before you can. The more ease you feel, the easier everything else will go.

Feeding the curse you’ve left behind in his house has been taking most of its time. It’s obedient to him since he’s strong, and it’s big now. Longer and wider and more sinister looking (he feels a weird affection for it, maybe just because it’s from you), more hostile. He’s been careful to maintain it. Too much feeding will make it overgrown.

It’s currently on Gojo’s floor, on a dog bed like a disobedient pet - all in a single coil. He has to be careful not to endanger you by making it too strong or giving it too much range. It’s just meant to be a showpiece - a prop at best and a scraped knee at worst.

He’s been building it up for a long time. Then, though, it wasn’t such a clear desire. He figured sewing seeds of fear in you would benefit you in a different way. But that’s fine. The means don’t matter as much as the ends and in doing so - he’s made this all sort of seamless.

It’s not a complicated plan, ultimately. He’ll tell the curse to let loose, freak you out a little, and eventually - you’ll call the only person you know who knows how to handle it. Gojo will save you, and when you’re finally caught in his arms, you’ll have a little reunion amongst yourselves. He’ll reprimand you (but only lightly) and you’ll thrash (but only for a little while) and then he’ll keep you by his side again.

Except this time he won’t be so quick to let go. He’s sure you’ll protest (and be all gung-ho about it). He’ll feign cruelty and push you to the edge. Whatever response you do have, he’s thought of a way to reply.

A way to tend to it.

Like any relationship, things take time. He’s not expecting this to settle right away - but he’s confident eventually it’ll work out how he wants too. Gojo can make that happen as long as you’re within view.

He watches you through the window as you come in from your classes. You’re dressed up today despite the chilly weather - a blouse and nice pants with bangles on your wrist. He wonders what the occasion is given the time of year. Your bag is hanging loosely off of your shoulder - having only just returned.

A sense of warmth spreads through him as he peers at you, a smile on his face. He really does like looking at you quite a bit.

The curse hisses at the sense of your presence and Gojo waves a hand at it to keep it quiet.

“Calm down or I’ll exercise you right away,” Gojo says coldly. It retracts itself. “I’m getting impatient, too, you know? It’s been a long time.” He says wistfully.

He keeps looking until you’ve effectively disappeared from his sight. He listens for you outside of his door. The sound of the building buzzer, soft footsteps, and the slight jiggle and turn of keys before you’ve gone in - sound by a dull thump.

He leans against the wall near his door where he was listening, eyes up at the ceiling as he turns over his options. He should wait it out a little longer. Giving everything enough room to mellow out before it picks up again is an important part of the process.

But he doesn’t know how much longer he can wait. Plus, keeping this curse around is starting to be troublesome. He’d much prefer you back in his arms, in his bed - all back to that kind domestic fantasy that he’d been thinking about again for weeks.

He supposes there’s no right decision, in this case. Just what he wants to do, versus what he should do, and some kind of middle ground he’s been spending too long looking for.

He stands to his feet, no longer leaning on the wall before glancing at the curse from the corner of his eyes.

“Today seems like it’s too soon yet too far,” Gojo pauses between sentences, scratching his head woefully “But it should be okay, right?”

At 7pm, the curse slips underneath the door of his apartment into the hallway. Gojo sits comfortably in his living room, one leg crossed over the other with his phone in hand, a warm mug of tea cooling on his coffee table.

The news is playing. A general and loose sense of anticipation fills him as he pays attention to the newscaster. Another storm is going to hit and the temperatures are dropping to an impossible low. Officials recommend buying bottled water and keeping warm as it continues to blow out.

There’s a soft hiss as the muscled curse squeezes itself underneath the tight crack of his door. It’s unfortunate he can’t monitor it directly. Though the instructions ( and subsequently the consequences of disobedience) were made clear - curses are greedy as they are stupid. This one in particular seems to be self-aware enough not to try to go against Gojo’s word.

So, when the time comes he sits patiently and waits. Watches the news. His ears itch and his skin pricks as he listens for the first whisper of your voice. He wonders if you’ll scream. You didn’t when he thought you should’ve but maybe there's a reason for you to do so now.

The clock ticks away. It’s unceremonious. Gojo thinks to himself that maybe this entire thing is esoteric. Capturing you is a tragedy that he writes to himself and he’ll re-tell it to you all the time in different ways.

The clock ticks. Again and again, the monotony is starting to settle in. Time moves slower than you could imagine. Like trying to pipe honey into straw, thick and impossible.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

At 7:02, a dog barks outside. It sounds cagey, and it’s not Pokupan because Gojo knows what that mutt sounds like. Nor is it cosmic. It does sound desperate, though - like asking someone to be let in. And if Gojo didn’t have such a pressing matter to attend to, he’d go outside and do it himself. After all the wind is frosty and the air is unforgiving and winter devours things so slowly it's painful.

Gojo can’t abandon his task. It’s too important for him to stick his neck out for a being he doesn’t even know. He hopes briefly that it survives. That someone lets it in before it gets anymore violent (or desperate or willing)

At 7:03, he reaches for the tea on his coffee table to drink it. It’s still piping hot, but Gojo can swallow it with his infinity. He does for a reason he can’t name. It’s just a compulsion, inspired by the fact it will probably be too cold when he comes back for it. He thinks, instinctively, that he should cherish the warmth in the glass despite the barrier that prevents him from feeling it. Ultimately it’s still milk tea. It will still fill his stomach and taste vaguely sweet where he permits. He ought to drink it when it’s warm even if it’s just an illusion.

The clock ticks again, this time to 7:04 and Gojo regains a sense of bravado that’s riveting. There’s a commercial airing now for a new type of kitchen gadget, an airfryer with more settings than any one person knows what to do with. The advertiser is enthusiastic and loud. He wonders what happens when it switches to the next one. Do actors on set feel awkward when the cameras turn off? He knows a thing or two about performing, which is why he finds himself so curious.

At 7:05, the first whisper of your pleading filters through the hallways. Though Gojo figures he’s not meant to be able to hear it - because however vague it is, the sense of shame that it holds is hard to ignore. Despite his urge to run to you, Gojo is reminded of the fact he is teaching you a lesson and this is all a show for you and in a way for him too. There’s timings and cues and calls, so Gojo lets your first prayer get passed through the winter winds. He’s sure it gets dropped off somewhere in the snow.

The dog outside bares its teeth and barks louder than before.

At 7:06, the feelings of fear and negativity start to weasel their way into his apartment. Through cracks in the floorboards and the aeration in the spackle - he can feel it come through his door and penetrate his being like waves of wind. With no barrier and no filter, your fear is a familiar presence in his life. It comes to a crescendo as he leans his head back on the couch and blinks up at the ceiling. He’s pleased with it so far. It’s proving to be just right. All the months of delicate orchestration have culminated into such a lovely overture. A symphony of sobs. It enchants him like a bird song, or maybe the whistle of a blizzard.

He waits for it to die down. He waits for it to start back up again. He waits for the sniffling to become sobs and for the sobs to become demands and for the demands to go back to sniffles. He waits for the dog outside to be let in because he can hear the buzz of the gates all the way from his apartment.

When Gojo has had enough of waiting, it’s 7:15 sharp.

He stands to his feet and walks through his door with not so much as a look back. The T.V. is still playing where he fazes out and he leaves it because this will be quick and easy.

You’re right across the hall. The walk is short. The building moans like it’s dead.

He stands in front of your door and presses his ears to it and there’s some semblance of an altercation. Mostly the sounds of shattered glass.

If you were any more familiar with this world, you’d know the thing is stalling. It has harmful intent but Gojo’s presence is too risky. If you knew anything about anything, then you’d know you were never in any real danger and even calling Gojo’s name when you hate it so much now would be pointless.

But Gojo has done his due diligence in keeping you in the fateful dark.

So this part is easy. He reaches for the door but it’s locked, so he teleports.

When he enters, your apartment is in terrible shape. The curse itself notices his presence but does not stop to act. He stops to take a look around. He figures you’re cornered and holed up in your bedroom. A trembling figure in the corner praying for God to save you.

Your house is effectively thrashed like there’s been a robbery. He’ll have to make up something in the report. Officials will come, but they won’t question his word. All the glass is broken and scattered and everything is torn up. Papers ripped and fabric shredded.

(The stuff Gojo demanded not to be touched has remained that way. Even he’s not so much of a monster to ruin your students' keepsakes. He’s sure you’ll look relieved when he returns them to you later. How kind he is.)

He prepares himself like an actor might for a role. He thinks of the lines he’s practiced and the way things will play out. This simple, choreographed tragedy. A manifestation of your fears. Gojo thinks that he is probably good at becoming the thing people love yet resent.

He’s sure you and Suguru would have a lot to talk about in another life.

He checks the time on your digital clock, left unscatched in all the destruction.

At 7:18, Gojo phases himself into your bedroom like he’s only just arrived. He hears you gasp in a sharp fear that quickly breaks into a sob of relief. He glances at you where he stands. He’s never been in your room. Kind of a waste it’s happening like this.

The first thing he does is check if the door is locked. When he finds that it is, he laughs to himself but covers his face before he turns to you. You are exactly how he predicts. Something curled tightly into your fists, fearful and backed into a corner. He coos internally. At what he's done to you. How this has played out.

It wasn’t enough to break you a little. This part is necessary.

Like he starts most interrogations off, he asks you question.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh, Satoru.” Your voice sounds shattered in such a way he finds it almost hard to stomach “Oh, it’s—Oh it’s you.”

“Happy to see me, huh?” He says, tilting his head. You close your eyes instead of replying.

“H-how’d you…?”

“I can feel cursed energy,” He says, and it’s not untrue “I felt something very strange in your apartment. It’s been a while.”

You still can’t find it in yourself to say anything. Maybe desperate, maybe afraid, maybe exhausted by your own paranoia - you relent.

“Yeah.” You say. Gojo can feel the curse grow impatient. It lets out a loud hiss and you gasp in fear.

“Hey, you didn’t answer. Are you okay?”

You stare at Gojo for a long time.

“I’m not hurt but,” You swallow thickly. Upon looking at you closely, you look exhausted. He feels a little sorry for you. He’ll let you rest for a while when you’re home “I’m s-scared.”

“You’re right to be scared,” Gojo says, and he means it a little. Not about the curse, but in general “It’s a pretty powerful class. A special grade, probably. You share cursed energy.”

You look agape as he relays this to you.

“Share…?”

Gojo gives you a look. He can feel the creature coming towards you door down, slinking across the wood slowly. A coy, soft smile appears on his expression as he reaches down for you. You flinch from his hands but Gojo doesn’t falter. He strokes his thumb across your cheeks, peering at your eyes and how they reflect light from the outside.

“It was made with your cursed energy,” Gojo explains very gently to you. You look at him in disbelief “Curses are negative emotions. So something like this isn’t uncommon. No idea how it got so strong, though. But that’s all your.”

He watches you closely as a wave of horror settles over you. A nauseous feeling that has you cupping your hand over your mouth like you’re ready to throw-up. He masks a smile, but he doesn’t condescend you. Not openly, at least. Not to the extent he would like too. He reprimands you like a teacher - a sensei and his beloved mentee.

“I told you didn’t I,” Gojo says nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders as you quell your own disgust at the thought “You have to be careful. And you can’t fight all by yourself, so you’re kind of helpless. What were you gonna do if I wasn’t around?”

You look like you’re going to cry. Gojo keeps going.

“You can’t call the police, you know. They can’t help you at all. Good for nothing bunch, really.” Gojo states, gesturing vaguely. He tugs his masks off of his eyes so you can get a better look at him “But you can rely on me if you need to. I’ll always protect you. Next time just give me a call, okay?”

It must dawn on you, just then, what exactly Gojo is doing. Or some extent of this is hitting you for the very first time. The look on your face is picture perfect. It’s exactly what he wanted. An understanding he’d be hoping for for so long it’s unbelievable.

“I’m the only one who can keep you safe, understand?” But he’s not really asking. You know that too “Can you nod your head and agree?” He pricks. You don’t hold back your tears but you don’t cry them either. You break down silently nd you nod.

Gojo reaches down and wipes them off for you.

“Don’t be so sad,” He says to you, and he means it because what a shame it would be to wallow too much on such a nice day. Winter is for warming up next to your loved ones, isn’t it? “I’ll protect you now.”

Left with no choice, you nod again slowly and clutch your pillow. Gojo kisses the crown of your head and leaves you to untangle your feelings.

Then, almost on cue, the curse itself bursts through the door. The wood breaks off with the hinges.

It’s really a weak thing. If Gojo was trying to keep his powers contained, he might’ve put up more of a fight as it lunges at him in your bedroom. It knocks over your things left and right but he’s mostly busy trying to muffle the noises so he doesn’t disturb the neighbors.

It’s as fast as a gust of wind as he strikes out, neck elongated and jaw as unhinged as far as it can go. This time, Gojo can feel the weight of its desire to kill. A rampant sense of bloodlust in it’s every action, Gojo dodges each attempt and swipe at him. He leaves a barrier over you temporarily so that it can do you no harm.

It doesn’t go for you either. He figures maybe it has some understanding of its own predicament. Desperate animals can be clever too. Perhaps those things have always been linked together.

But he figures a fair-ish fight is as much as Gojo can do to stave the thing off before he sends it off officially. Plus, he can feel you watching his back - like you’re trying to measure how strong he is. It’s a smart thing to do. You’re learning. It’s probably better to show you now, since there’s not much left to hide.

So this time, when the snake comes flying towards him - Gojo reaches his hands out. He uses his infinity to stop it in its place. A noise of anger leaves its mouth, a low hiss as it hits the wall in front of him. Wide blue eyes stare at Gojo, a predator with its fangs bared.

Gojo stares back, a predator with its fangs bared.

He uses a reversal of his Limitless, the infinite blue. The creature is pulled into him closely, crashing first into the space he’s created before disappearing into nothing but smoke and ash. It’s gone just as quickly as it happened. A curse so inferior, it can’t have been more than ten minutes to fight even with all the purposeful delays Gojo set in place to finish it off.

It’s gone now, the product of you and him. A weird part of him is sad. But now he has you, so he cuts his losses. Now there is only you and Gojo, and a ruined bedroom and broken apartment.

Gojo, who has no intention of enlightening you, turns his back to look at you.

“Don’t know how long it’ll be gone but,” He shrugs, rolling his shoulder and cracking his spine “But it’s gone for now. Some officials will be here in the morning but with the way this place is, you might wanna come back to stay with me for a while.”

This is all a formality. He’s sure you know too, but instead of turning away - you’re shivering figure wavers in the dark. You’re terrified enough to reach for his hand and hold it. You know what’s coming, but that knowing does nothing to save you. You were a victim to fate from the moment you met. Yet, you still look to him for comfort in safety because even knowing better, there isn’t anything you can do.

And it’s just like you, to want to trust and forgive him. To reach your hand out hesitantly and try. Everything is tangled up and you are terrified and Gojo Satoru loves you.

“Come on,” He says, encouraging you to get closer. He reaches over your bed to scoop you into his arms and you don’t do so much as protest “Let’s go home.”

Gojo brings you home quietly.

When he enters, the T.V. is still on. You are curled up in his arms. He has no idea how long you’ve been crying and about what in particular - but that’s okay. Tonight, to him, is something like an anniversary. Like any time before, he has no intentions to treat you roughly.

It’s a good night, he thinks. Even in the state you’re in, Gojo can only think of making it even more memorable. You’re an injured thing in his arms. A delicate bird with clipped wings, or a butterfly with a missing antenna. Without Gojo there to pick you up in all your broken pieces, you might’ve really fallen apart.

It’s reasonable enough. For someone like you, he’s sure tonight has been so scary. It makes him feel a little sorry for you. It makes him want to make it all worse before he makes it all better.

He can’t describe it, but there is something so right about seeing you like this.

All angry and resentful and volatile. All lonely and scared and saddened and somber. All Gojo’s forever, permanently through everything. He’s made you so completely in his image, something he’s always wanted to do. Maybe you’re a trial run, in its own right, of all the things Gojo will be able to do in the future. What he’s capable of creating with enough effort.

Gojo is gentle to you. Tender, as he carries you into the apartment. You help him turn off the T.V. and put the mug into the sink. He carries you too afterwards, rewarding you with a kiss to your temple, before pulling through the threshold of his bedroom.

Just like that, you find yourself again in Gojo’s bedroom like you were so many weeks prior. You’re weakened and exhausted, so willing that he is endeared. Like this, he hovers over you. Looks at your tearstained face and smiles so lovingly.

Regardless of everything that’s transpired, above all - this is a reunion of two lovers to Gojo Satoru. So in the midst of it, he wipes your tears and kisses your cheek and you don’t pull away. Now you’re so ruined you relish his comfort if only a little, and this time it’s perfect. It’s everything he’s always imagined.

He’ll give you hope and freedom and let you be. Eventually, you’ll come to realize you’ll always need him a little. And it doesn’t matter, does it? That he’s made it that way on his own. Because it’s true. It’s righteous and religious and godly. Gojo Satoru is not god, but he does understand the urge to make something that listens.

He kisses your soft cheeks and hums at you, nose nudging your skin.

“Still feel like crying?” He asks you. You blink up at him like you’re only just now realizing where you are. Some emotion overwhelms you, but ultimately you shake your head no. Gojo grins impishly.

“That’s good,” He says tenderly. He kisses your lips this time, and you kiss back. It catches him off guard but he doesn’t dislike it “You didn’t get hurt did you? And now we’re together again.”

This does seem to incite waterworks in you but you don’t look like you have the energy to cry. He doesn’t push you too much. Though it is fun seeing you like this, Gojo is grateful he has some time to cherish you.

“Scary world out there, y’know?” Gojo says between kisses. He adjusts you, your arms around his shoulders loosely “Hold onto me okay? I’ll make it all better.”

You whimper under your voice but don’t go to thrash. There’s something about you that feels limp. A spirit softened and dampened, like wet soil. Gojo is okay with anything as long as it’s you, and there is some part of this he likes too. How pliant you become under the weight of your fear, so tantalizing to Gojo he can’t help himself but kiss you. Riper than the fruit of Eden. Just as sweet.

He kisses you for longer than necessary. It’s intimate and hopeful. All tangled hands and pulling different parts of you up to his lips.The occasional press of his teeth in your skin, with his senses so high he can practically feel the blood rush through them. Your mouth is soft and warm, the breadth of mint on your tongue. He pushes his tongue past your lips but this time around, you don’t do anything to refuse it.

So accepting like this. Gojo thinks life with you will prove to be exciting.

He rests his hands on your waist and you don’t pull away from him. Such soft skin covered in a sheer layer of sweat. It’s making him dizzy to have you like this, to kiss you in his bed. Again, again, again. You belong here with him and nothing has ever been so true. The euphoria of everything is overwhelming. He can’t get enough of you. Even if in the moment he carved a spot into you forever and buried himself there, he cannot help but want to be spoiled by your lenience and affection. He can’t help himself but to possess all of you so even time cannot spoil iit.

Despite yourself, you touch Gojo back gently. Knowing you, it is a way to deal with the pain. You want to forgive him as much as you want him to save you. You hate him as much as you love him.

From the beginning, everything has been exactly like this. This was the end of all ends.

This is a lesson in divine truth.

You’ve made Gojo this way as much as he’s made you. If Gojo Satoru is to play as God, then he supposes you are much like an owner. Some part of you has made him love you unconditionally. A dog and his master. An animal with a love so violent it shakes windows. Gojo Satoru makes you love him through violent means, and like a dog left abandoned in the snow - your own empathy for his unconditional but broken love makes you protect him. It’s cyclical. It can never change because the universe has ordained it. Because everything Gojo touches is a divination from the heavens.

Where Suguru proves to be a lesson, you are the dues he is owed.

This is a lesson in divine truth.

More simply, Gojo Satoru loves you in his own way. Any loyal dog will chase its owner no matter how far they run. He lives for you, after all. He’s made you in his image. The difference between god and dog is nothing more than a matter of positioning.

You love him back in your own way. Because his character and his tragedy makes it so difficult to abandon him and your disposition will never allow you. You’ll hate and resent him. You’ll grieve and you’ll cry. You will want to turn your back but he will always come to save you. And who can love you so loyally as a dog undisciplined? Who can keep your sheltered being protected like a wild hound?

Spring was an innocent century ago. Winter is here. Gojo loves you.

“My birthday passed recently,” He tells you. You blink at him.

“Oh?”

“Can you guess what I want?”

You don’t do much more than nod. It’s not permissive. You just know better by now, and that too is not something Gojo finds himself pleased with.

“You don’t have to do any work,” He offers you as a reprieve, busying himself once again with undressing you. You’re still wearing the clothes he bought you all those weeks ago “Just don’t run away from me.”

If you notice how heavy the words are, you’re smart enough not to do anything. Even still, Gojo can’t tell if there's a purpose behind it. Perhaps you just know it instinctively not to.

He takes you apart carefully. Careful, thick fingers unbuttoning the front of your shirt. You’re wearing nothing underneath, and the sight of your bare skin is almost too much for him. The hickies have yet to heal, though now they’re yellow and softened by time. Gojo will have to leave more to bring back all the color to you.

He starts at your jaw this time, teeth against your earlobe. Heart in your hands, he knows your body a little better now.

And he takes his time with it this time too. Even slower than before. Even more consuming, even more adoring.

He laps his tongue against your soft skin and eats. Your skin is salty and sweet and Gojo can’t contain himself. He gropes you lightly, planing his palms over your shoulders and squeezing your breasts tight. He’s missed touching you more than he knows what to do with.

Even in being gentle, there’s little he can stop himself from trying to devour. You lay about him squirming as he undoes each and every part of you. He can’t pick which place to go and what thing to do first because he wants so wholly. It’s making his head spin to listen to your sweet and short whimpers. You spread yourself as you lay under him, hands pinned to your sides - demure and needy.

How different it is but the same. Something about how you’re clinging to him so desperately is making him feel sick with lust.

Instead of going any further, he pulls away from you momentarily. He puts his arms on your sides and flips you over till you’re on top of him

The sudden change in position leaves you gasping for air. Gojo gives you an amused grin as you fall forward - as he props himself up on pillows while you try and steady himself. He holds you close to him once you’re all set, face to face like this.

“Don’t run away from me,” He says, more seriously. You swallow. Gojo lets you up until you’re half-way over him. You’re so much weaker than him, moved and manhandled so easily. There’s a target on your back so often and Gojo loves being an arrow.

He kisses the side of your body as you stand on your knees beside him. His fingers hook into your shorts and panties, sliding them off of your body all in a fell swoop. He squeezes your ass slightly, spreading you apart.

“Look at you all bent over for me,” He coos, hands reaching underneath you to toy with your pussy. You whine, shuddering, clinging to his shoulders. “So pretty, baby. Prettiest girl.”

A hiccup bobs in your throat. Gojo moves his fingers lower and lower, familiar now with the feel of you. Your cunt is just as welcoming as he remembers. The idea of making love sends a shiver through his whole body. Blood rushes to his cock like a bolt of lightning in his veins. He pushes his middle finger into your twitching, needy hole.

Another sound, cut off by a garbled word of surprise, falls out of your mouth. You’re soaking. Ripe for taking. Gojo wants to fuck you more than anything.

He takes a deep breath, whispering to your skin.

“Fuck,” He laughs, giggling at the thought of it “I’m gonna break you, huh? Gotta be—shit, need to be extra careful with you, right my love?”

“Please be gentle.” You say at his request.

“Of course, of course but—” He squeezes your hip as he feels his middle finger go into you down to the knuckle. You roll your hips against him involuntarily “You just—you’d look so good so full of my cock, y’know? Been thinkin’ about it for weeks.”

And he has, means every word. You shudder at the confession. He quirks his lips as he fucks into you, relishing in those pretty little sounds that fall out of your lips.

“You like that?” He grunts, another finger to stretch you out a little more for him “You like when I tell you about all the dirty things you make me think about?”

Shame fills you, like Gojo’s lit a match under you. He can feel your heartbeat pick up. Is it the being so wanted or is it the crassness and humiliation? Maybe both. Sometime later he’ll pick it apart more closely. He lets himself talk you through it, so close to your skin as he whispers all the filth to you that he can. Confesses it to you.

“Weeks and weeks, baby. Couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect and wet you would feel when I finally took you like this. Gonna make it so good for you, you won’t have to think about anything else again.”

The promise sends you limp. When Gojo finally feels both of his fingers slide in and out of you with no resistance at all, he sighs lightly and pulls away. The loss of contact makes you whine, but he brings you back to his lap now, sitting with your legs on either side of his.

His cock, clothed and restrained in his sweats, swells against your wet cunt. He watches your eyes widen as you stare at it, lucid enough this time to realize what it looks like. He looks up at you, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“C’mon. You can look.”

He guides you to the waistband of his sweatpants. You pull his pants down slowly, looking up for permission (which Gojo gives in a loving nod) before taking his boxers off too. His cock is so hard it’s almost painful. The tip is a flush red, white hairs trimmed neat at the base and feeling so fucking heavy Gojo can’t stand it. He hisses as your hands reach for him instinctively, and you try to pull away before he stops you.

“Touch it, sweetheart” He encourages, wrapping your hand around it for you “Feel it? That’s all you.”

A flush graces your features. For a minute, it’s all love and nothing more. Nothing less. Too briefly for it to mean anything, but enough for Gojo to know it. You wrap your hands around his shaft and stroke tentatively and Gojo groans shamelessly into you, rutting his hips into the round part of your palms.

“Fuck that’s it,”

He looks at your expression, examining the concentration before chuckling. Your lip is poked out, eyes dazed. He pulls away from you, securing you close to him.

With the new proximity, he holds his cock close to you. Measure it up against your skin, against your tummy. He feels you against him, Around him, folds nudging apart for him, The skin on skin alone has him so breathless. A dizzy sort of feeling as he presses the tip of his cock hard against your clit. You feel like silk around him.

Looking at you like this, all helpless and needy, he can’t help but think about how easily he can overpower you. He’s stronger and bigger. His cock would be enough to split you in half. How he’s gonna make himself fit inside of you spins in his mind over and over. Maybe like always, your pretty little pussy will yield just for him. You’ll open and endure and take him so deep.

He can’t help appreciating it. Can’t keep his thoughts quiet from telling you.

“See that? How deep I’m gonna go?” He measures up to you. A hand on the bottom of your stomach, stroking his thumb “Gonna feel me right in here. You ready?”

You close your eyes and look away. Gojo grabs your chin and tuts at you.

“Nuh-uh. Want you to see. Don’t close your eyes.”

It’s not a question or a request.

So, you watch. Gojo lifts you up just enough to line up with your entrance and sinks you down so, so slowly on his cock. It’s agonizing how slow. It’s incredible how fucking good you feel. How perfect one sensation could possibly fucking be - Gojo could die here in complete bliss. He can feel the stretch of your pussy trying to accommodate. That sensation of resistance that sends him reeling, spine tingling and skin prickling with a heat so intense he feels like he’s going to pass out just sitting there.

And then there’s looking at you, which proves to be an entirely new animal. You have this pinched expression, a shocked little gasp as Gojo pushes through. A whimper leaves your lips. Gojo rubs his thumb on your lower lip as he eases you down.

“Hurt too much?”

“N-no. Just… feels weird.”

He laughs a little at your honesty, before fucking himself into you even deeper. Another inch and he really starts to feel you. Your walls feel like they’re sucking him and Gojo wouldn’t leave if it killed him. He groans, deep in his chest as you shake. Your grip on his shoulders gets tighter and tighter.

With one more smooth thrust, Gojo sits you down on his cock completely. He feels so complete like this. Everything in him is at ease feeling your insides spasm and melt around him. He sighs contentedly.

“Still okay?”

You nod weakly.

“Can I move?”

Your reply is nothing more than a whimper.

So he does, but he does so slowly. Just to get into the rhythm. He thrusts up slowly.

‘O-oh. Oh, oh it’s,”

He chuckles against the crook of your neck, hugging you close to him. He loves the way you feel against his body, the way your frame fits so perfectly into him. He rolls his hips up into you so there’s no effort on you to move. You whine that time, and he does again and again until your voice is a mess.

“Starting to feel good?”

“S-satoru.”

He swears.

“Fuck, stop that,” He swears “Gonna—shit, gonna cum right away. Moving so hold onto me tight, baby.”

You take his words for it. Gojo feels your soft tits pressed into his chest as he pulls your hips up and starts fucking up into you. Each time he does, he feels like he can feel all the way to the back of you. None of his fantasies could compare to the feeling of being this deep inside, cock nudging against that sweet spot that keeps making you fucking mewl into his ear. He can hardly take it as it is now, focusing hard on not cumming until you do.

Making it good for you is his priority. Always has been, but you make it hard for him like you do most things.

“Touch yourself for me, okay?”

You look at him surprised but listen to his request regardless. Gojo takes to fucking you steadily. He builds an even rhythm as he keeps you up, hands firm on your hips as he pistons you from underneath. The pleasure comes in waves, undulates as blood continues to rush to his cock. He’s so hard he can’t think straight but he keeps each of his thrusts consistent, lines them with the pace you play with your clit so he can encourage you to cum for him.

He can tell you’re starting to feel good when your mouth falls agape. He drags on your walls with each punctuated movement and your thighs shake and tense. Everything comes together so slowly but the pleasure comes at once. It’s a force that’s nearly earth shattering. All the planets aligned, everything in the same plane. Everything for him and for you. For the togetherness he’s created and chased after so long.

Now this part of you is all his too.

“Sa—Satoru,” You warn, your hands trembling and fingers cramped up with need. He grunts as he stares up at you through thrusts “G-gonna…”

“Gonna cum for me? Gonna cum on my cock? Go on. Know you can do it, baby. So good for me. Perfect for me.”

It’s all babbling for him now, the sensation hitting him in waves. Your mouth falls agape and you cum so hard Gojo can feel every fucking pulse. Squeezing his cock hard enough he wants to grit his teeth. He presses his mouth to yours instead as you moan out, unable to hold it in. He swallows every noise like he’s trying to embed them into himself.

You cum hard and fast and Gojo is so quick to follow you. Only seconds after you fall limp into his arms does he feel it - no longer able to stave off the urge to cum so deep in you it stays forever. To mark you deeply you never think of anything. It’s almost animalistic for him. Every nerve on his body is on fire as he shoots his cum deep into you, sitting you on his dick with nowhere for you to go.

Panting, he pulls back to gaze on you. He’s still hard as he’s twitching. He can’t hold off tonight, he doesn’t think. But he’ll give you a minute to collect yourself. He presses a kiss to your hairline.

He whispers softly as the night comes to a quiet, quiet still.

“I’m yours and you’re mine baby. Forever and always.”

You shake. And Gojo knows you well enough to know that it’s the resentment coming back in waves. But that’s okay, because Gojo loves you.

And with this, he’s taken everything.

EPILOGUE / OVERTURE :

Your senses are accustomed to Gojo by now.

You never thought such a day would come. You spent the first year of this relationship (if you can call it that, to begin with) in trenches so deep you couldn’t really tell left from right. So many things persisted as normal, but nothing was ever the same.

In that, though, Gojo stayed by your side till the bitter end. He nursed you back into health and sometimes treated you so kindly that you could almost forget who you were dealing with. Sometimes the weight of everything became too heavy. You think you love Gojo almost as much as you hate him.

But it doesn’t particularly matter what your feelings are. Has it ever, in any of this? You always knew that something was strange but you didn’t think you were so clueless. Blindly following wherever his voice took you.

The first time you try to escape Gojo feels like so long ago. That time, he let you go quite far. You made it out of the house and even went out of the country during summer. But you were sloppy and inexperienced. When he found you and brought you back home, you figured it had been a fluke. You’d learn from it. You’d do it again and that time you would succeed.

That’s what you told yourself anyway. It’s how this all started. Where you would run, and Gojo would let you before he started to miss you. He’d come and he’d discipline but it was never too cruel.

(You wished it were. You wished it were sickly and sadistic and tortuous. You think it’s so much worse to beg for mercy when you are sobbing from pleasure. For Gojo to coddle and sedate you and never yield. You think you’d prefer if he were just out of it. Just cruel instead of what he is. Which is knowing but certain. Justified.)

This has been the farthest you’ve ever gotten. You don’t think you’ve ever been this far away from home. A cabin in the woods where you lived peacefully for days. You don’t know how Gojo found you.

You had been so sure. This was it. It had to be it.

Your heart shatters as you hear him. Feel him in your bones so much it frightens you. The world is covered in a sheet of white, and your ankles are bruised and bleeding from where you’ve fallen. You’re cold and your heart is beating so loud - but no matter how much you run you can’t find any heartbeat to motivate you.

Gojo pulls through the thickets with a frown on his face. Blue eyes and black coat, his feet crunch the snow as he comes towards you. You crawl away. You try too, anyways.

Gojo leans down to your level, looking at you closely. He reaches out to brush snow away from your skin.

“My birthdays soon, you know?” He hums, not angry today. Not even wanting to discipline you “It’s not a bad place, y’know? The cabin. We can spend some time there before we go home. Might be nice. But we should get going so we can check on your foot.”

He reaches his hand out to you this time. Too injured to run, you take it and he smiles before offering to carry you on his back. You hop on, arms around his neck and don’t even cry. A numbness settles.

It is not the cold.

“Oh, look,” Gojo says, reaching his hands out “Snow’s falling.”

You suppose it is. Another Winter will pass just like this.

A dog howls somewhere far off in the distance.

#writing tag #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo smut #jjk smut #noncon cw #yandere cw #manipulation cw #coercion cw

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tojigasm · 1 year

Text

Sheep and Wolf

Authors note: omgg, it's been almost an entire year since I've posted a Toji fic, but here he is!! Back in the flesh, he returneth! I hope you all enjoy it!! <33

Warnings: 18+ nsfw, smut, fluff, creampie, kissing, pet names, angst, Christopher Nolan, blood, guns, mentions of bandaging a wound, Toji being old

Toji, who calls you while you're at school, chuckling into the phone when you complain about your professors and the schoolwork you've got to finish by the end of the week.

"I'm still havin' you watch that Christopher Nolan film tonight," he teases, and you can hear his smirk on the end of the line.

"Noooo," you whine, "you're gonna torture me with your film bro shit on top of my homework?" You sigh, and you can hear him laugh, "doesn't mean the film is gonna be any better just because I'm being forced to watch it."

"Yeah, yeah, kid," tojis voice deepens some, and you find yourself smiling at the rasp of it, "now go learn something."

He can hear you giggle on the other end before the line clicks off, and he turns back to looking over folders for his next mission.

—

Toji, who rolls his eyes when you get amped up at night time. Too excited and too happy to fall asleep.

You're wiggling around under the covers until a firm hand grounds your thigh to the mattress.

"M'kay, I think that's enough." Toji warns gently, scrolling through his phone with his other hand. "It's bedtime."

Your idea of "bed time" lasts momentarily before you're shuffling yourself under the covers and wiggling about as you giggle.

You've come to learn that Toji is a very patient boyfriend, but his limits still exist in full, and they become very apparent when interfering with his usual bedtime schedule.

"Y/n," he puts his phone down to watch your hump of sheets and pillows stop at his voice, "what did i just say."

You sheepishly crawl back up to the top of the bed and go to sleep.

—

Toji, who comes back home, stumbling up the wooden stairs, scraped, torn, and bloodied.

The sound of stairs weaning under his unsteady steps pulls you from your sleep to find him slumped against the railing of the wall, pressing his hand to his side.

"Oh my god, toji!" You make your way to him, kneeling on the step above him to look him over. "What did you do, oh my god," You pull his arm over your shoulder to help him stand, and he hisses through his teeth.

"I didn't do shit, not my fault i didn't know the asshole had a fuckin' gun."

Once to the master bathroom, you sit him on the edge of the tub, peeling his shirt up to assess the bloody wound.

"Is it..?"

Toji shakes his head tiredly, waving you off to grab the rubbing alcohol from beside you.

"Nah, I fished the bullet out on the way here." He pulls the collar of his shirt into his mouth in preparation.

You scoot yourself back some to watch him pour the isopropyl over his bloody skin. This was his field anyways, you'd decided.

"Fuck!" Toji groans, throwing his head back.

Working quickly, you move back to help clean the wound with water from the tub before wrapping his stomach with guaze.

He passes out on the edge of the tub, and you stay with him until morning. It'd become a semi-regular routine in his area of work, though the first couple of times you'd been so terrified and he'd felt so bad that the next day after the event you'd have a newly wrapped present on the kitchen counter.

The presents now are that he even makes it back at all.

—

Toji, who fills you so well, you sob.

His cock stretches you open and runs along your gummy walls, thick and girth length sends a pulse of pleasure through your cunt.

"So fuckin' tight. Shit m'gettin' close." Toji groans, kissing up the side of your neck.

"Wanna have your baby," you sob, pulling at his thick raven hair.

Toji chuckles at that, pulling back some to gently cup your cheeks in his hands.

"No, y'dont." He kisses the soft of both cheeks and then your nose and then your lips. "Don't wanna be stuck with his old man forever, do you?"

You giggle through heavy tears, and he holds you tighter to him. A large hand strokes over your head as he pumps into you.

"You're doin' so good." He kisses you, pulling back to rest his forehead to your own, "you're such a good girl."

His thumb strokes your clit and the other presses your knee to the bed, holding you open.

"Sweet angel."

And when his heat fills you, you bite into his shoulder and cum. Gummy walls squeezing around his girth and pulling him in.

—

Toji, who lies with you on your balcony, whispering how much he loves you under the stars after a long week.

"No, that one is big dipper." You laugh, falling back to his chest.

"Sorry I'm not a fuckin' nerd and spend my free time drawin' magical pictures in the fuckin stars." Toji sighs.

"Hey!" You hit his chest, "they're not magical. They're literally right there." You look back up at the sky again.

"Mhm, sure."

The cool breeze of the night blankets the two of you from your shared apartment balcony. It sings and howls through the trees.

Toji's hoodie is soft and envelopes you in its warmth against him. The material thin enough for you to hear his heartbeat through his own shirt.

There's a gentle beat of silence where Toji strokes his knuckles over your cheek back and forth.

"Know I love you, right, kid?" He asks.

You nod against his chest, and you can feel him nod back.

"You're a good girl."

—

Toji, who's age, catches up to him in cruel and unkind ways.

It starts small, him squinting to read the menu print when the two of you go out. At first, you had teased him about it, and he had pushed you with a heavy eye roll.

Then it turned to squinting while watching TV and reading books and driving, so he got readers and contacts.

Sometimes, his age is ridden in late night returns to home. He hardly makes it up the stairs, and there's evidence of his hardship written into grooves in the railings and the light stripes of wood that've been bleached time and time again from his blood.

At others, it's in far more relaxed ways.

When his hair turns a salt and pepper mix that he's no longer able to trim away to ensure his youth. Rather, the white and greys start at the roots now, speckling throughout his thick raven tufts.

And sometimes, it's in the way he rolls the two of you over. Forcing you on top of him as he fills you to the brim. He holds you by the hips, helping to guide you along the length of him at your own pace.

—

Toji, who calls you, choked up on the other line, and you know he won't be coming home.

"I want you to–"

"Toji, please tell me what's going on," you sob, the sound of rain and his shaky pants fill the line.

"Goddamnit, y/n! Listen to me!" He scolds you, and you hang on the tip of every word. Relishing in the realization that it might be the last time you speak to him. The last time he speaks to you. The last time he'd ever have to calm you down, get frustrated with you.

"Toji," you weep, sobbing into the sleeve of his hoodie.

"Honey, I need you to listen to me." He groans on the other end. "You remember the key to the safe?"

You nod, sniffling into your arm, stifling a wale.

"Y/n?"

"Yes!" You cry.

"Good girl, good."

And it almost feels as though he's there with you. Holding you to him and whispering sweet nothings into your hair as you cry in his arms.

Almost as if you'd wake up, and everything would go back to the way it was that morning.

"I want you to take everything and call Nanami." He waits a beat, "you hear me, sweetheart?"

"Yes, yes," you cry through a shaken nod, "I'll call Nanami. I promise."

"He'll help you." He hisses, "you're gonna be okay, baby." He tries to soothe you.

"When will I see you? Are you coming with me?" You ask pitifully. As though you don't know. As though he won't lie to protect you. As though asking the question might tear the fabric of your reality and pull you back to last night when he pulled you into his arms to sleep.

There's a soft moment before he stumbles over his words, "i– you don't need to worry about me, kid." He sighs.

He lets you cry for a moment, soothing you from his end.

"M'sorry I couldn't give you that kid you wanted or half the things you deserve. You're a good girl, far too good fr'me."

"Toji, please," you sob.

"Be good fr'me, okay?"

Your hand strokes over your cheek, mimicking his late touch.

"I will. I love you."

"I love you too, kid."

The line clicks.

#toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #jjk fushiguro #fushiguro toji #fushiguro toji x reader #toji smut #toji fluff #jjk fluff #jjk smut

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queer-lovebot · 1 month

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More heartthrob kevin, jealous neil, and possessive andrew hc?

Gay people love heart throb Kevin and his boyfriends as is part of the social contract <3

I think the time Neil has ever been at his most jealous is after Kevin has joined the pros. Neil and Andrew travel to see him — it’s a last minute thing, and they text Kevin that they’re coming, but Kevin never responds. They assume he’s in practice and decide to meet him outside there. This is what they expect of him and they don’t ask him to change.

Well, they arrive, and Kevin still hasn’t answered their texts, so they sneak into the court (aka, catching it just as someone else is leaving for the night). And what do they see?? Kevin with his arms crossed, in the bare minimum of his uniform, coaching another striker. And it’s mean but when Kevin’s teammate makes a complicated move and Kevin smiles, approving? Oh Neil is done for. He’s banging on the plexiglass and begging to be let in. Kevin goes “what?? Are you doing here????” But Neil is just “Oh wow! Which teammate is this? You aren’t even playing against him, Kev. Don’t worry, I brought my racket and some gym clothes. Let’s see how good he really is, yeah?” Kevy’s poor teammate is in for a terrible two hours unfortunately. Neil just wants to hear that he’s Kevin’s favorite, most lovely, most skilled student (not striker bc that’s Jeremy Knox).

The time Andrew is most possessive? That’s harder to pick up because he’s just. Generally like that. He’s intense in how he cares for people so every moment is the same. That being said, Andrew gets specifically amped up at professional social events. He is Kevin’s shadow in the worst way. Kevin must always be in his line of sight in case something happens that needs handling. Andrew will constantly pull Kevin closer by the waist, or bring him refills on his drinks, or playing with his hair. If a conversation is getting weird, he interjects until the other person gets the hint and either changes the subject or leaves them alone.

One time, towards the end of an event, Andrew and Neil turn their backs for a few minutes, only to come back to Kevin decking some asshole in the face. They’re at Kevin’s side in a second, of course. He learns the asshole was flirting Super Forcefully (“Every queen needs her king, yeah? Plus you’ve got to be sick of third-wheeling with the mini-freaks over there.”) Kevin wasn’t taking it. Andrew handles his own rage (towards the guy) and attraction (towards Kevin) by grabbing Kevin by the neck and making sure he’s okay, then whispering something extremely horny in his ear to watch his face go red. Andrew then proceeds to make his threats about “touching his things”, asking Kevin how he’d like to handle the situation. He’s going full-on knight here. Kevin falls into it, looking snidely down his nose and deciding it’s no longer worth his time. It’s extremely scary and hot.

This is also the moment where people start spreading the Kandreil throuple dating rumors around the pro teams btw. This Single display. The rumor mill sprouts overnight. And I think Kandreil refuse to confirm or deny bc secretly they all like a little drama, and it gives them excuses to be a little rude to the press <3

#they are low key such messy bitches im sorry #as is the qualifications for being a Fox tbh #heart throb kevin my beloved #aftg #all for the game #kevin day #andrew minyard #neil josten #kandreil

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laurfilijames · 13 days

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Breathe | Series Masterlist

All gifs used with permission and made by the wonderful @uuuhshiny

Will 'Ironhead' Miller x female reader

Series Summary: After the Publix incident and breakup with his fiancé, Will begins to find peace and healing when he least expected it, but navigating falling in love again while living with PTSD doesn't come without its hurdles. Can building trust and a healthy relationship prove to outweigh all the demons he faces and finally allow Will to live the life he never thought he deserved?

Series Warnings: Rated E, 18+ only. Swearing. Various sexual activities. Traumas associated with PTSD (violence, nightmares). Please see each individual chapter for detailed warnings.

Part 1 - You've seen Will at the gym many times before, and he you, and today you finally share a moment, discovering your assumptions about him are right.

Part 2 - Will's dreaded grocery run turns out better than expected, and things dial up a notch when he invites you to watch Benny's fight later that night.

Part 3 - You're back at the gym attempting to distract yourself from thinking of Will, your conversation from the night before weighing on your mind, but it turns out Captain Miller has even less restraint when it comes to you than he thought he did.

Part 4 - You stay for an eventful night with Will, helping him through an anxiety attack brought on by a nightmare, all while learning more about each other and taking advantage of his amplified energy and restlessness.

Part 5 - More days of bliss continue for you and Will, including a proper date where lustful feelings are balanced with hesitations, and another nightmare brings things crashing down.

Part 6 - Will starts to distance himself from you to the point of being unable to mend things and tension rises between the Miller brothers over his actions.

Part 7 - Unanswered questions amp up every emotion that time does nothing to lessen, and so much uncertainty raises the concern if everything will turn out okay or if moving on is the only answer.

Part 8 - You and Will finally discuss how to navigate your relationship, and after establishing a comfortable rhythm again, something causes a disruption to test you once more.

Part 9 - Will's feelings come to light in the aftermath of your run-in with Cam, and after more rifts between the two Miller brothers, your relationship progresses to the next step.

Part 10 - Comfortable domestication sets into your routines after Will officially moves in with you, and a quick stop at the grocery store on the way home from the gym earns Will another reputation at Publix.

Part 11

#will miller #triple frontier #charlie hunnam #will miller x female reader #will miller x reader #will miller smut #will 'ironhead' miller #william 'ironhead' miller #william miller #charlie hunnam characters

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rose-tea-and-strawberries · 6 months

Text

Drunk Deuce Headcanons

Reader is intended to be female

Masterlist

So whilst I don’t think he’s a light weight, Deuce can get pretty tipsy really easily.

Deuce is a hundred percent an affectionate clingy drunk

He’s definitely a lot more handsy than he would be whilst sober. Deuce is a touchy boyfriend in general, and always has his hands on you even in public whether he’s holding your hand as you walk, wrapping an arm around your waist or shoulders or even indulging in the occasional full blown hug where he gives into the constant urge to just engulf your frame with his. He would love to do PDA, and you’ve certainly made it clear that you’re absolutely fine with it as well, but his general shyness, gentlemanly instincts, and drive to be a well behaved honour student that abides by the rules make it a bit hard for him to just kiss you in public no matter how much he wants to. So he just settles for hand touching and the occasional pecks on the cheek and forehead.

Having you close just feeds his protective instincts and the side of him that’s just so giddy and amazed to hold you. Like, wow, I’m dating this amazing girl and I want to touch her and she wants me to touch her. Is this heaven? Plus, being affectionate in a place where other people can see does appease a smug part of him that he’s not too ashamed of hiding. He’s not possessive by any means, but the butterflies in his stomach start flapping like crazy whenever he thinks about how everyone else knows that the both of you are each others - like, he’s known that he belongs to you ever since that incident long ago where you learned about his past yet looked at him with that caring supportive gaze but now you also belong to him.

In private his urge to touch you is just amped up, seeing how he’s now able to do as he pleases without anyone but the two of you to bear witness.

He just wants you so much. Every second of every hour of every day, his head is filled with your laughter, your smile, your sparkling eyes, the melody of your voice, the tingling of your touch. You drive him madder than the residents of Wonderland.

Anyway, back to him being inebriated

He’ll whine, clinging onto you like a koala, not caring about others watching as his face makes a home for itself in the crook of your neck, nuzzling against your skin. Strong, athletic arms will hold you close against him, whether he’s dragged you onto his lap or he’s seated beside you but has you in a vice grip with his arms draped over your shoulders like you’re wearing a Deuce sized jumper.

If you do manage to escape his hold (though, why would you??) he’ll follow you around like a newly imprinted baby duckling, trailing after you with wide pleading eyes and a dopey lovestruck smile and awestruck eyes. Having to close the bathroom door on his sad puppy eyes feels worse than a hundred daggers to your chest but you were honestly desperate to go at that point.

(Yes, he pouted outside until you were done and then immediately latched onto you the second the door opened again. He’s one of Professor Crewel’s favourite students for a reason)

Normally when Deuce is needy, he’s a lot more - well, I wouldn’t say ‘aggressive’ per say - but he’s more physically demanding of your affection, pressing hard and fast kisses against your lips, cheeks, neck in quick succession as his hands hold you flush against him but then again, needy Deuce only comes out in private. When he’s got liquid courage coursing through his veins, however, everything’s slow, savouring, all relaxed veneration and gentle adoration - letting him drown in his all-consuming devotion, even when he knows that time will stop before he’s even begun to be sated.

And he’s a lot more shameless about it, indulging himself all out in the open. The Queen of Hearts herself could be before him and he wouldn’t care, not when he’s got his own goddess to revere.

Sliding, his lips down the slope of your neck, pressing slow, drowsy kiss after slow, drowsy kiss only forcing himself to pull away from your skin when you call his name, so sweet and tantalizing, to look up at you with dark, besotted eyes and flushed cheeks before continuing where he left off. In his opinion, if your words stutter and fumble as you converse with your friends - who pray to The Seven that their next shot is much much stronger - then he’s on the right path

He’s a cuddly, clingy puppy but he’s your cuddly clingy puppy and you won’t have him any other way

Meanwhile everyone else is completely done with the pair of you and Ace is certain that the nausea he feels has absolutely nothing to do with the empty glass of alcohol in his hand.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #deuce spade #deuce spade x reader #fem reader

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bangfantanfic · 4 months

Text

Our Own World: Chapter 12.

Warnings: Possible mentions of stalkingand yandere behaviour.

tags; @miss-jupiter @imagine-forlife @blaaiissee @millenniumspec @toughbook @darkuni63 @badbyeyoongi @iloverubberduckiez-blog @missseoulite @singukieee @potterbrooke @suhappysuho @doublebunv @sevenpersona @blancflms @childfmoonn @caffeineandreveries @cryingpages @gato-dumbo @xicanacorpse @devilzliaison

A/N; I am alive! Thank you all for being so patient, life has been life-ing and I cannot say it's been enjoyable lmao. I hope this update is okay, please let know! I am also currently going through Our Own World and my other works editing everything! So there may be some changes, so please bare with me while everything is a bit messy. If you would like to be removed or added to my taglists please let me know <3

Being holed up in Jimin’s room had surprisingly been a nice refresher. The only person coming and going from the room had been Jimin, taking clothes to his roommates, bringing fresh clothing to you, and meals whenever they were ready. He spent nearly every second glued by your side, chatting away like he had known you his entire life. He had millions of questions, wanting to know every intimate detail about the life you lived before finding yourself stuck here, although he worded it much nicer.

In turn, you asked Jimin a million and one questions. You asked about his life, what it was like living with your brother, did he have hobbies, and of course, questions regarding life as a hybrid. You hadn’t ever spent much time around normal animals despite the never-ending line of pets your parents bought home, and so obviously hybrids were a whole new ballgame. Jimin had been thrilled by your interest, answering every question in length and always making sure you understood everything. The hybrid had shown you so much patience and care, more than you had expected or ever even experienced before. It had been a shock and left you feeling embarrassed and ashamed of the way you had behaved around them all.

Growing up, despite your parents' interest in hybrids, they never got any. Nobody you knew had hybrids— well obviously other than your brother but his ownership over them had been a surprise! You had very little knowledge of them, only what you had learned through the media, which even you should have known wasn’t the most reliable source at times. All your information, the knowledge you thought you had? Useless. You may as well have watched Fox News all your life. Thankfully, Jimin didn’t seem to mind your lack of knowledge, in fact, he seemed thrilled to share everything he could with you. The two of you had started to form a surprising bond.

For the first time in almost a week, you woke up alone. It had left you feeling strangely disappointed. The first night you had spent in Jimin’s shared bedroom, he had insisted you sleep in his bed, and you both had bickered for a ridiculous amount of time until you caved in. By the second day, he had rejoined you in his bed, being careful to keep his distance. It was sweet. By day four you were waking up to Jimin curled up around your body, his nose buried into your neck, his hot breath tickling your skin. Strangely enough, you weren’t bothered by the skinship. Your skin didn’t crawl at his touch, even the gentle brushes of his tail on your calf. It was almost comforting. Jimin had picked up on the change in attitude toward touch, slowly amping up his skinship.

But it was strange to wake up to the disturbed routine you had so briefly experienced. Usually, you woke up before Jimin, the fox hybrid stayed up later than you and slept in longer. Today was different. Deciding to shrug it off, you rolled across the bed blindly reaching for your phone on the bedside table. The blinding white light from your screen caused the device to slip from your hands for a moment before you recovered from temporary blindness. Speedily scrolling through the notifications on your lock screen, your thumb froze upon noticing a familiar name.

HY- U free today? Was thinking about going on a walk… u interested?

Staring at the words, rereading, and then reading one more time, you threw the blanket off your body, throwing yourself upward. You still texted the man from the grocery store, Hanyoon, nearly every day, unfortunately, you hadn't run into him again since your first meeting. Covid’s lockdown rules had thankfully finally started to ease up. Whilst masks and international travel still hadn’t gone back to normal, you were allowed to roam the streets again... Exercising for a few hours outside of the house in the neighborhood you lived in was encouraged. Getting out of the house was just what you needed, even if it was with a man you had only met once. Keeping yourself cooped up like this was crazy, of course, it was. Jay wasn’t able to return anytime soon, and just because Hoseok and Jeongguk had scared the shit out of you, it didn’t mean you should close yourself off to the others who hadn’t done anything wrong. A day out was exactly what you needed to clear your head.

Y/N- sounds great! Whenever you're ready :))

Dropping your phone back onto the mattress, you stumbled out of the bed, ankle snagged in one of many blankets that Jimin kept all over the bed. You made a quick mental note to fix his bedding when you got back. Digging through the pile of your dirty clothes that had been shoved behind the door, you found a decent enough outfit. Sure, you could go to your bedroom but the fewer stops the better. If you could avoid alerting the whole house of your departure that would be ideal.

You were thankful for the one sink in the ensuite that still worked, getting to quick work brushing your teeth. Unfortunately, your hair was disgustingly greasy, but with no time to shower you would just have to steal some of Jimin’s dry shampoo and pray it could fix the cesspool on top of your head. Not bothering with makeup, knowing your unfit ass would sweat it all off, you were quick to ditch your glasses in favor of contacts. Deeming yourself presentable for the public, you quickly grabbed your phone from Jimin’s mattress. Hayoon’s contact alerted you to his arrival at the park nearby.

To your complete surprise, you managed to make it out of the house without a single soul making an appearance. If you didn’t know any better, you would have assumed the house was empty. Knowing better than to test your luck, you had been quick to slip into your sneakers by the door, taking off down the driveway. Despite enjoying Jimin’s companionship the past week, you craved normal human interaction. Jimin was a sweetheart, but there was something that lingered under that sweetness that often left you feeling uneasy. It could just be you overthinking, subconsciously comparing him to his two packmates that had spooked you, but you weren’t going to completely ignore your gut. You had learned to be better than that.

“Y/n!”

A grin pulled at your lips as you locked eyes with Hayoon, your legs picking up pace to meet him faster. Hayoon looked good, dressed in loose black shorts and a baggy white tee. His hair which had been completely buzzed off the first, and last, time you saw him had started to regrow. Thick dark hair had started to flower across his head, making you wonder what kind of style his hair had been before it had been shaved off.

“Hayoon, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting?” You asked sheepishly, keeping a little space between your bodies.

He waved you off, smiling down at you. You forgot how tall he was, definitely an inch or so taller than Namjoon. You weren’t short, in fact, you were considered tall for a woman in your country, but Hajoon made you feel tiny, something you couldn't say happens often.

“Nah, I haven’t been here long.” He assured you, gently bumping into your shoulder as he started to walk along the dusty path. The crunch under his shoes finally jolted your legs into gear after what seemed to be a moment of short-circuiting when the skin of his arm brushed against yours.

The sun felt amazing on your skin, something you never thought you could say. Even the gentle breeze didn’t bother you. It was still early, the only other people in the park being an elderly couple walking with their arms linked up ahead. Despite how warm it already was, the couple were dressed in thick coats as if braving the city's harsh winter. Watching the way they interacted so freely with one another warmed your heart, they seemed so in love. Growing old didn’t seem as scary if you did it with someone you loved.

Hayoon must’ve been watching the same scene as you, a soft smile on his lips as he admired the affectionate couple ahead. A comfortable silence had settled over the two of you rather quickly, and you were grateful. Something you liked about Hayoon was how easy it was with him. There were no forced conversations, no bitterness over slow responses. There were many similarities between the two of you, making it almost effortless to keep any conversation going. Any differences were discussed, debated, and settled. Those differences weren’t drastic, nothing that could end the bond that slowly was forming.

A sound of disgust broke your thoughts, Hayoon’s eyes were still looking toward the elderly couple, only now a third person had appeared. A short woman who looked to be in her mid-thirties had been walking in front of them and now separated off to the left with her arm linked with the elderly woman, the two admiring a shrub of flowers. The short woman had pretty honey-colored hair with ears of the same color poking out– a hybrid.

Hayoon looked down at you, an apologetic look on his face. His tanned cheeks had a cute pink flush to them. “Sorry– I didn’t mean to.” He stumbled over his words, his cheeks going brighter in embarrassment.

“Not a fan?” You laughed, glancing back toward the elderly woman and her hybrid.

Hajoon snorted, shaking his head. He kept quiet as you approached the trio, waiting until a good distance had been made before he answered your question.

“It’s just.. Weird?” He sighed, his thick brows pulling together. “It’s not natural.”

Humming, you found yourself agreeing. Hybrids were a strange concept, you found it incredibly difficult to understand why anyone would go out of their way to warp genetics in such a way. What was the real reason for creating such a mess of DNA? Only to ban them twenty years later? What was the reason for banning them? They were a hot commodity, every facility selling out within weeks, the waitlists being years long. The money the government had made from their creation had been staggering, and yet twenty years later facilities were shut down and forced to stop producing. The last few generations were sterilized, and the older generations were also encouraged to be as well. The government was trying to completely erase their creations without an explanation. As anyone could imagine, it didn’t go down well with the public. Hybrid trading has become a huge issue over the last few years, with huge rings being found and shut down every few days.

What about Jay’s hybrids? When exactly did he get them, and where from? They were all born before the ban, that much you knew. So maybe he got them legally? Did he follow the government's advice, suggesting (demanding) to have all hybrids sterilized? Jay seemed to want to hide the fact that he owned hybrids, was it because of how many he had? Maybe there was a limit on how many hybrids a person could own that you weren't aware of. Seeing the elderly couple out with their cat hybrid, not a concern in the air, had you confused as to why the seven back home were kept under lock and key. Was it because of their breeds? They were all exotic animals, the laws might apply differently to different breeds. After the ban on hybrids, many laws shifted, and still to this day they are constantly changing, it is difficult to keep up to date.

The topic of hybrids and Hayoon’s opinions on them piqued your interest. You were still clueless on the topic, no matter how much research you did into it you still felt uneducated on it all. Hayoon had been an excellent source of information, leaving you almost speechless on how much he seemed to know about them. If there was one thing you admired about the man, it was how educated he was on all topics. He always made sure to have himself as well informed as possible before making an opinion, he was a pool of knowledge. He never looked down on you for things you didn't know or understand and explained things as many times as you needed. It reminded you of Namjoon.

A knot of anxiety pulled at your stomach. Had they noticed you were gone? Were they upset... Maybe you should have told someone, or at least left a note. You know Namjoon has a shitty old phone that's shared amongst the group, but you never bothered to get the number for it. You hadn’t seen a need for it, the only time you had spent away from any of them was to go get groceries. A part of you also just didn’t want them to have your number, the thought of them being able to contact you in the only time you had alone was distressing. Quickly shrugging off your concerns, you turn your attention back to Hayoon who had thankfully not noticed you spacing out.

They’re fine, they’re grown men, and they can live without you for a few hours.

“She’s gone!”

Namjoon slammed his laptop shut, glaring up at Jimin for bursting into the bedroom he was temporarily residing in until Y/N was ready to go back to her own.

“Have you forgotten how to knock?” He snapped, earning a frustrated hiss from the young fox.

“Are you deaf!” He shot back, tugging at his hair. “Y/N is gone, I can’t find her anywhere!”

Jimin’s panic was already distressing enough, the emotion suffocating the room the longer he stood in the doorway, but the anxiety that flooded his nerves was enough for him to feel bile rising in his throat. Namjoon had heard one less heartbeat when he woke up late this morning, but he had pinned it down to either one of the boys had gone walking at the back of the property, somewhere too far for his hearing to pick up, or Jeongguk was sleeping so deeply that his heart had slowed to almost nothing again– a common occurrence when the snake hybrid had a late night. The possibility of it being your heartbeat missing hadn’t even crossed Namjoon’s mind. You had been locked away in his bedroom for some time now, nobody but Jimin had seen you, and nobody would have suspected you leaving. The smell of your fear still lingered upstairs, Jimin would herd everyone downstairs before you would agree to go use the upstairs bathroom to shower. Going as far as making Jimin stand guard on the door until you were done. When did you lose that anxiety?

Ripping the blanket, Namjoon’s laptop hit the floor as he jumped off the mattress. “Where have you looked?”

“I’ve been through the yard, the kitchen, our bedroom, and all of downstairs. I haven’t checked Jeongguks room, I was on my way–”

Namjoon was speeding down the hallway before the fox could finish his sentence. This was a new kind of fear he had never experienced before, his throat closing up and his eyes burning. His lungs were on fire, struggling to keep up with how quickly he was breathing. At the end of the hall was Taehyung and Jeongguk’s room, the door shut and only the sound of one heartbeat fluttering peacefully. Had you found your way into their room? Maybe you had gotten lost and ended up in the wrong bedroom? These things happen all the time! He’ll open the door and you’ll be curled up in someone's bed, and the crisis will be averted.

With the force that Namjoon pushed open the door, he almost fell flat on his face. Stumbling into the room, his eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness, squinting as he took in two groggy men peeking out from their blankets.

“Hyung, what the fuck?” Jeongguk groaned, his heart going from nearly stopped to racing.

“Well, is she there?” Jimin huffed, shoving past his leader to look for himself. To his great disappointment, the room held no signs of you ever being there. Cursing, Jimin shoved past Namjoon, his usual gratefulness replaced with clumsy heaviness.

“What’s his problem?” Taehyung whined, pulling his blanket over his head to shield himself from the brightness of the hall.

Namjoon, for the first time in his life, couldn’t find words. You’re not here. There are seven heartbeats, not eight. The knot in his stomach tightened, the bile in his stomach rising higher and higher. When did you leave, how long has it been? Your car is still here, you couldn’t have gotten far. How didn’t anyone hear you leave? A house full of hybrids and not a single one heard you get up and out the front door?

Impossible.

“Did you hear anyone leave the house this morning?” He asked as calmly as possible, the shake in his voice far more noticeable than he would have liked. Both grunted out no’s, begging the elder male to close the door.

It was Jeongguk, finally ripping the blanket off his head ready to start a war over the damned door still being open, that noticed Namjoon’s pale sweaty skin. He looked like he was about to projectile vomit. Frowning, the snake hybrid slinked out of bed and heaved his tired body toward his sickly leader. Pressing the back of his cold hand against Namjoon’s forehead, he sighed in relief. He wasn’t running abnormally hot, so it wasn’t a fever or some kind of sickness. Even with his less advanced hearing, he could still hear the erratic beating of his hyung’s heart.

“Joonie, you okay?” He murmured, his hand cupping the back of the man's neck as he tried to get closer to assess him better. “You don’t look so good…”

The concern in Jeongguk’s usually smug tone had Taehyung flying into a sitting position, his hair standing in every possible direction. His puffy eyes zeroed in on his pack leader, his brows pulling together in concern.

“Is he sick?”

Jeongguk shook his head, keeping his eyes on the wolf hybrid. Gently squeezing at the muscle in his neck, the snake hybrid was starting to get antsy. “Hey, come on. Talk to us, we can’t help if you don’t tell us what's wrong.” He cooed, the money hybrid making a sound of agreement from behind.

Namjoon’s tongue pressed against his cheek, his eyes going glassy. He couldn’t get his tongue to work, he couldn’t get himself to say the words his packmates needed to hear. How could he admit to everyone that he had lost you? He could hear Jimin tearing through Jay’s room downstairs, Hoseok and Seokjin hot on his heels trying to calm the younger man down. They didn’t know what was happening either, nobody else had figured it out.

“We can’t find Y/n.”

#btsxreader #bts #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #yandere bts #bts hybrid #bts!au #bts x reader #bts yandere #kim namjoon x reader #kim seokjin x reader #min yoongi x reader #kim taehyung x reader #jung hoseok x reader #park jimin x reader #jeon jungkook x reader

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seospicybin · 1 year

Text

ON TOUR.

FINAL PART: ENCORE.

Hyunjin x reader x Felix. (s,f,a)

Chapters: I. SOUNDCHECK / II. OPENING ACT / III. UNPLUGGED / IV. HIDDEN TRACK

Synopsis: Your best friend, Felix, is in a rock band and he takes you to join him on tour as the band’s photographer. On the road, you learn how to deal with his bandmate, Hyunjin, who’s not very welcoming of you. (15,4k words)

Author's note: So sorry for the delay and thank you for liking On Tour! It's been fun you guys, see you on next tour :)

Click here for ON TOUR playlist.

Content warning: A tad bit of angst?

It was a pleasant Sunday afternoon when Felix visited Hyunjin's apartment.

The band only started writing music together, for a few months to be exact. That day's rehearsal was canceled because Han couldn't come, he was sick with a cold even though it was spring, and the weather had been nothing but warm.

Felix spent so much time looking around his place, getting to know his personality through the things he has in his apartment, the pile of books on the coffee table, his record collections, the photos stuck to the door of the fridge, the notebook he kept close to him everywhere he goes that he saw was sitting on the bedside table.

No matter how much he wanted to know what Hyunjin wrote in it, Felix resisted the urge to take a look at it, at least not without Hyunjin's permission.

Hyunjin made him a cup of coffee with a lot of sugar for him, knowing that he is not a fan of the bitter taste of coffee.

Then Hyunjin sat on the single sofa across from him, playing with his guitar and plugging it into the amp, setting the volume low.

"My neighbor has a toddler," Hyunjin shortly explained.

Felix only responded with a nod and took a sip of coffee that still tasted a bit bitter for him but he drank it anyway.

When Hyunjin began playing his guitar, Felix leaned back on the couch and listened to the combination of chords that makes such melodic tunes filling the space.

It was always a mesmerizing thing to see Hyunjin plays guitar, Felix intently listened to the strings buzzing as the metal vibrates underneath his fingers.

Felix knew that he admires Hyunjin, that was what he could easily conclude from what he felt inside him as he sat there across from him.

As softly gust of spring breeze came slipping through the crack of the window that Hyunjin left open, he recognized something else deep down his chest and that amplifies the longer Felix watched Hyunjin plays guitar.

It was when Felix accidentally fell asleep on his couch he knew what it is. He felt comfortable and safe.

When Hyunjin brought him a blanket, Felix pulled it to cover up his face and there, he felt it.

Felix loves Hyunjin.

He would say it but saying it out loud is hard, so hard that he decided not to say anything at all.

Felix thought that once he left his place, the feeling would stay there, not following him, haunting him to this day.

But saying it out loud? No.

Words are futile devices.

The after-party is canceled.

Everyone stays in their room until the night ends and it's time to go back home. Felix doesn't mean to make things uncomfortable for everyone, especially those who have no involvement whatsoever in it.

Felix comes to your room, knocking on the door when he's still not sure what to say and do. He even doubts you'll open the door for him.

"I'm sorry," Lou says the first thing he opens the door for him.

He licks his lips before continues speaking, "She left last night."

What makes him think that you would stay after what happened? He feels something stirring inside and making a way out of him.

"But you don't have to worry. I drove her to the airport myself," Lou assures him knowing that Felix might have worried about him.

Felix looks down and turns away, saying nothing else but learn that you left him again, this time, you didn't even say goodbye to him.

Isn't this punishment enough for him?

Hyunjin avoids looking him in the eyes as he enters the plane and sits at the far back, away from him.

Felix is once again surrounded by silence and it makes him lonely, it makes him hear the sound of his heart breaking into a million pieces.

Felix not only has lost his chance at love but also his friendship. He loses both his love and happiness.

A WEEK LATER.

Here you are, back at your small apartment and to your ordinary life.

You've been staying at your mom's for a few days and wanted to get away from things while mopping about how you hurt not one, but two people's hearts at once.

You hate yourself for that. You will never, ever be able to forgive yourself for that.

But how long will you stay like this? Not doing anything, refusing to move on from things.

You've been staring at your suitcases, too afraid to unpack things that would bring back many memories that you're not ready to recall.

But God! It's been days and you still owe Vin some photos, a lawsuit is probably on its way to your mailbox for contract violation.

For the sake of professionalism, you grab two canned beers from the fridge and sit on the floor. With a deep, deep breath, you slowly unzip your suitcase and open it.

It certainly unlocked a lot of things, not just memories but also the musty smell of the dirty laundry you keep inside a bag.

You hurl the bag of dirty laundry to the corner of the room and start to unpack more things, mementos you took from every stop of the tour. They're all random things, from postcards, fridge magnets, keychains, then all of the passes and wristbands you keep from the concerts and festivals.

You put them together into one Ziploc bag for you to figure out what to do with them later and unpack more things out of the suitcase.

Once you do it, it isn't that hard, it's like taking the bandaid off in one go. It hurts but it's relieving.

Now that everything is back in its place, you move on to the next thing which is your camera bag. Unpacking it while waiting for your laptop to load. You take out everything and carefully lay the camera and lenses on the table, ready to see the accumulated dirt at the bottom of it.

You find a lot of memory cards as you turn the bag upside down and put them in the tray along with the others to check what's the content. You found another thing, a piece of solid plastic with the name Ssick written on it, you believe it's a guitar pick.

How did it get there? You can't recall but it certainly reminds you of someone.

Your heart aches even though no one is saying his name but deep down you're addressing him as his face flashes in the back of your head.

And you miss him, a lot.

You drop the guitar pick on the little tray where you keep all of your memory cards and resist the urge to break down once again, no, you have to do things and keep moving.

Also, you have to stop a lawsuit from happening.

You start by opening your emails and found several of them asking for photos in urgency. It's such a sore thing to see but the only way now is through.

Gritting your teeth, you start working through the night and are glad that it helps take your mind off of things, by the time you're done, you're too tired to even think.

In other words, you get to sleep without crying tonight.

It takes everything in you to get out of the apartment and it's not like everyone going to know what you've done, right? You're not Yoko Ono.

You can do the laundry at home but you choose to do it at the laundromat. Opening the lid to one of the washing machines, you dump everything from the laundry bag inside, not having any energy left to sort it first.

After making sure it's working just fine, you get yourself a cup of coffee from the vending machine, then sit on the bench with headphones on.

You bring your laptop with you to check if you get new work emails or if the lawsuit goes to your spam folder. Who knows?

To find something to do, you sort out your work folders and named them based on the stop of the tour. There's a separate folder that you know why it's there.

The song that is playing through your headphones seems to sense that you yearn for someone's presence. Your finger clicked open the folder without you intending to, inside of it is something you promised to make and gift to someone.

You scroll down and see all the memories frozen in pictures, reminiscing the times you took them with or without him knowing.

These photos represent how he looked through your eyes, cool and poised, but underneath that exterior, he's kind and lovely, you feel warm whenever you see his smile. He's the sunshine that brightens your day. He's your best friend and you love him.

You miss him, terribly.

"How I wish, how I wish you were here..."

It's unfortunate that you and he have to go through this thing again. First, it was the distance but time has brought you back together and now, you're not sure that you'll be able to be a good friend to him anymore.

You lied, you betrayed him, you said something that you shouldn't have because it wasn't your place to tell, you broke not just his heart but also the friendship.

You can't bear to see that he will not be in your life anymore, but deep down you're undeserved of being a friend to him.

There's a lump growing in your throat the more you think about him but God, you wish he was here.

"Wish you were here..."

THREE WEEKS LATER

It should be good news that the band is having an encore show next month.

There should be cheering sounds and happy smiles and flooding the room with enthusiasm, this means the fans want the band back and to have another show.

Instead of all that, the room remains quiet, no one says anything but nods, to let everyone in the room knows that they heard.

Felix would be excited if only his head wasn't all over the place, his heart wasn't in smithereens and he could tell someone all about it but that someone never picked up his calls.

Felix never meant to mix his personal affair with work but unfortunately, his bandmate is involved in it too. He doesn't mean for things to go this way.

When he glances at Han, he too, doesn't look as enthusiastic. He probably if he wasn't in the middle of his two bandmates who hasn't spoken to each other for weeks.

It frustrates him too.

There are so many things left unsaid, but he can't say things without being mistaken or misunderstood. For this once, Felix wishes that Hyunjin could read his mind so he knows that he's just as hurt, just as sad, just as... confused about himself.

As the band manager dismissed the short and unmeaningful meeting, Hyunjin who didn't even glance his way once, rushes to get out of the room.

The first thought that crosses Felix's head is does Hyunjin hates him that much? That much that he can't stay in the same room with for too long?

Han appears behind him and gently squeezes Felix's shoulder, "just give him time," he says.

Time.

They said time heals, then why Felix is suffering? Why do things remain broken?

Time is not the only thing Felix has given him, he's given him space and distance and silence. All he needed to know is how long he and Hyunjin have to continue living like this.

Whenever he sees him, Hyunjin doesn't try to catch his eyes like he usually does, doesn't even register a smile.

The man who once knew him now feels like Hyunjin sees through him.

Felix admits that he was wrong to think of him as more than just a friend but oh... the feeling.

And It's sad that after all they had, they act like they had never met, but Felix can't just turn his feelings off like a light switch.

The heart might be part of the human body, but somehow it's always out of our control.

Felix comes down from the meeting room a while after everyone has left for their respective activities. He doesn't have anything much to do today but to check on his wrist for he had accidentally sprained it once during the tour.

When he arrives at the lobby of the agency, he's surprised to see Lou there. His bleached blond hair turn dark and longer now and he smiles when he sees him.

"I thought you left already," Lou says.

Felix comes up to him as he sits on the square sofa, "what are you doing here?"

"Why? I can't come to visit the agency?"

Felix shyly laughs, he only realized then that his question sounded so unwelcoming when the truth is he was just slightly taken aback.

Lou is a friend of Han and always seems to linger by his side, to see him waiting for him piqued his curiosity as to why?

"Sorry, I mean, Han has left for the studio," Felix stammers.

Lou chuckles in response, "I know," he shortly replies.

"I waited for you because I have something for you," he says, grabbing a paper bag sitting next to him.

Something for him? First, he waited for him and now he's about to give him something. Felix takes the paper bag from him, "are you sure it's for me?"

He nods, "hate to tell you that it isn't from me."

Felix glances up after taking a little peek inside the bag, "Oh?" His voice curls into a little disappointment.

"Are you that sad that it's not from me?" Lou asks between his chuckles.

Felix shakes his head, "No, I mean..." he gets embarrassed that he doesn't know what to say.

"I'm just the messenger," Lou says with that nonchalant shrug of his.

Felix can't know for sure what's inside because he only sees a big gift box and nothing else. He can't wait to take it home and find out.

But before that, he looks at Lou and it's the first time he feels good seeing someone in a while, one that doesn't get affected by what happened, one who treats him just the same.

"Thank you," Felix sincerely mutters his gratitude.

"No problem," he replies.

Lou picks up his bag from the floor and slings the strap across his shoulder, "You have to thank the real sender," he adds.

Listening to what Lou said, Felix is getting more curious about the person who sent him this.

"Are you going to the studio?" He asks, somehow feeling a little sad that the meeting was short.

"No," Lou answers, "I'm helping a friend with his gallery opening."

"Oh?" Felix lowly exclaims in both awe and surprise.

It baffles him that he knew Lou for two years now but knows so little about him. He heard only a few things about Lou from you, that he can skate, he can DJ, he plays ice hockey, he once helped you trim your hair on tour and so much more.

Felix heard so many good things about Lou yet he only reached to him when he needed help to do something, never once properly treated him like a friend.

However, it's never too late to start.

"Thank you, Lou!" Felix says with utmost sincerity.

Lou softly smiles like he always does and Felix wishes that it will forever stay like that, never changing.

Perhaps, Lou can see in Felix's eyes that he is thanking him for him, then with an open heart, accepts his gratitude.

"See you later?" Lou asks.

Felix smiles at him, "See you later!"

It's right in front of him.

Felix takes the gift box out of the paper bag the first thing he got to his apartment, put it on the table in front of him, and stares at it for a minute.

It's unclear what he expects to happen by staring at it.

Deep down, Felix can tell who it is from and he hesitates to open it because he knows he'll be hit by a wave of emotions that, once again, he has no power to control.

Taking a deep breath, Felix lifts the lid and looks inside.

There's a Polaroid camera and boxes of films to fill it. He puts them aside on the table, then pulls out something from the bottom of the box.

He tears through the brown wrapper, revealing a photo album inside. It must be the special gift you promised him.

He's not prepared for it but at the same time, can't wait to discover what lies inside. Flipping the album open, he reads the words written on the first page.

"Our adventure."

It says and he recognized that handwriting and that little curl at the end of every letter resembles the curl of your smile.

Felix flips to the next page and sees the photos of you and him, from your shared teen years. His fingers trail the glossy surface of the photo and wishes that he can feel your warm smile under his fingertips.

He swears he almost heard the sound of your laugh when his finger hovers to the other photo where the two of you are laughing together.

Every time Felix recalls the memory each photo holds, his heart aches for he longed for the times when everything was much simpler, much easier, and happier with you.

Then he comes to a different part, it says.

"My adventure."

For this part, the pages are of your photos from when you were studying abroad, doing various things from cooking to going on a hike, mostly of beautiful places you visit and food you ate.

He guesses that you want to share it with him, all these pretty sceneries with its pretty skies. You're filling in the part when you were absent in his life.

Instead of being sad that he wasn't in this part of your life, he's grateful to know that you were happy and didn't stop yourself from living in the moment.

Simply put, he'll always be happy as long as you're happy. He turns to the next part and finds another piece of writing.

"Our adventure."

You add a little scribble under the words and wrote, "Part 2!"

These are the photos you took during the tour, most of them were goofy ones. There's a photo of him sleeping, eating a cup of noodles, napping with his hands under his chin, of his messy bedhead and so much more snapshots you took without him knowing.

Also, more photos of you together, having slurpees and snacks at a gas station in the middle of nowhere. He misses these little things he did with you, the random conversation talked in between sips and laughs in between words.

Even the most ordinary things feel special when he does it with you.

He opens to the next part of the album that says.

"Your adventure."

As he turns the page, they're all blank, then he realizes why it was sent with a camera. It's useless now that he has no idea what to do with it.

The only adventure he wants to do is with you.

It's strange to have a lot of space.

You're so used to living in a small apartment, everything is within reach and you can see everything in one frame.

But now, after moving into a new apartment and it's much bigger than the previous one, you feel a little desolate.

Isn't it a dream to finally have a studio of your own?

It's not big but it's enough, you can pin all of your favorite photographs on one side of the wall and stare at it as much as you want.

You do most things on the first floor because that's where everything is, the kitchen, the bathroom, and the living room blurred into one with the studio. The second floor is strictly private, it's your bedroom and it has ceiling-to-floor windows which is your favorite part of your new apartment.

Another good news is you're booked now, not as in you're fully booked until the end of the year but you received a job offer from here and there.

Today, you got to do a photo shoot with a band for a music magazine. Well, they're not Ssick and not as big, but you heard of their name, not sure when or where, but it's a familiar one.

As you try to recall when was the first time you heard the band's name, you heard footsteps coming from behind you. You haven't had time to meet any of your neighbors, so you turn on your feet to greet them and perhaps, get to introduce yourself to them.

"Hi, hello, I'm your new—"

Your mouth stays open but words stop coming out of it. The one you're seeing is not your neighbor, that you know for sure.

Felix is standing there, exactly like that night when the two of you met again after years.

"Hey," he says.

It takes everything in you not to cry right there, you're happy and sad at the same time but on top of all that, it makes you ask yourself how did you break his heart like that?

You push the lump growing in your throat down and manage to put on a smile for him.

"Hey," you say back even though that isn't supposed to be the first word you should say to him.

It should be "I'm sorry", "I can't apologize enough", or "Please forgive me" and you have the chance to say that but it's not easy.

Instead of that, you ask, "Want to come in?"

He sheepishly smiles and says, "Yes, please!"

Felix comes at a bad time.

Not only that your apartment is still a mess, you haven't bought groceries yet. What you have in your fridge right now are bottles of water and some leftover dinner from last night.

"It's a nice place," Felix's deep voice echoing that it startles you.

You turn around and smile, "Yeah, I think so too," you respond and aware of how stupid that sounded.

Coffee is not an option since Felix doesn't like it that much, you turn to look inside the kitchen cabinet and find a box of teabags, "tea?" You hastily offer.

"Sounds nice," he says.

The two of you are sitting on the same sofa not saying anything but watching the curl of the steam coming from the two mugs of hot tea on the coffee table.

Weeks without speaking to each other and now it feels like the two of you are ex-lovers who have gone through a nasty break-up.

Oh well, it's close to something like that.

"I guess you knew from my mom?" You decide to be the first to shatter the dead air hanging between you and him.

"Your new apartment?"

You nod.

"Well, I asked my mom to ask your mom and..." he stops explaining, then chuckles.

"I know," you say.

Before the silence resides once again, you think of something else to ask him, "So, how are you doing?"

It's natural for him to always seek closeness, and intimacy when he's talking to you that you find him slowly closing the space between you and him.

"Good," he shortly replies.

You slightly turn your body to face him but look anywhere else but his eyes, "I saw that you guys are having an encore show," you say.

"Yes," he sighs like it's a piece of bad news.

You reach for your tea but pause as Felix asks you the same thing, "How are you doing?"

You hook your fingers around the handle of the mug, "I'm okay," you answer with an easy smile.

Felix glances at your studio and stares at the photos stuck to the wall, "must be exciting moving into a new apartment!"

You bravely glance his way for a second to see his impressed smile then look away before he notices.

"I saw the ad you did," he says, calmly feeling the upholstery of the sofa and aimlessly drawing lazy circles on it.

"They're amazing. Guess you're fully booked now, huh?" he teases with a low chuckle.

One thing about Felix is he always talks with utmost sincerity, everything that comes out of his mouth contained warmth and purity, and he talks with all of his heart.

Which only reminds you what kind of person you are for breaking that heart. You wrap your hand around the mug and absorb the heat with your palm, it burns but it's nothing compared to what you've been through.

"Actually, Felix..."

He turns his head at you, "Yeah?"

You stare down at your lap for a while before continuing to speak, "I'm not okay at all."

Tears start to pool in your eyes because that's what happens when you start speaking your heart out.

"I feel horrible," your voice begins to quiver as tears roll down your face, "I feel horrible for what I am, of what have I become."

You press your eyes with the heels of your hands to stop the tears despite knowing that it's useless, "I hate myself for what I did, for being a horrible friend to you, for telling things I don't even have the rights to tell, for—"

You're unable to finish your sentence as tears caught in your throat.

It's natural for him to always answer your distress call. He quickly grabs your hand to provide comfort.

"So, no, I'm not okay at all. I broke your heart, I broke our friendship, I broke us," your hands flew to cover your face as your cries turn into sobbing.

Felix doesn't say anything but holds you, holds you so tight as if he's trying to assure you that he's right there with you, despite what you've just said to him.

"I'm sorry," you sob into his chest as your body shakes in his embrace.

Felix suddenly pulls away and holds you by the shoulders. Then you see that his eyes are red and teary, he's crying too.

"Did you really think I was mad at you over someone?"

You can't answer with you keep constantly hiccuping from holding your sobs in.

"I'm indeed mad," he says.

Your eyes are blurry with tears but you can see that Felix is crestfallen, not mad.

"I am mad because years ago you didn't tell me that you were going to study abroad and you left just like that when you promised that we'd be staying together," he explains.

He takes a deep breath to continue talking, "And you did it again!"

You can sense the anger and the disappointment in his voice despite he was trying to fight the tears from falling down his face.

"You broke your promise, you left me again and you didn't even say goodbye to me this time."

Felix looks away for a moment to not lose it to his emotions, to calm himself down. He breathes through his mouth and turns to look at you again, "I'm also mad because I couldn't be a better friend for you—"

You stop him from talking by grabbing a fistful of his shirt and shaking your head, "No, no, it's not you, it's me."

He pulls you close and lets your head falls onto his shoulder, resting his hand on the back of your head, he puts his head on top of yours.

Sorry wouldn't be enough to make up for what you did but then again, you have nothing else to say but sorry.

"I'm sorry," you can barely finish your words without crying. Your hand clutching at the front of his top already soaked with your tears.

He hastily kisses the top of your head and keeps his head close to you, "You are my best friend. I love you more than..." he pauses.

Taking a deep breath, Felix can finally continue speaking, "I rather lose my chance at love than lose you."

Even after all that happened, he still chooses you who lied, was disloyal, and broke his heart. Not to mention, you did it twice yet he still welcomed you with an open heart, letting you in and willingly putting his heart at risk once more.

People would call him a fool for that but for you, that's just Felix.

He's beautiful and kind and has a big, big heart that even if you broke it, his heart still overflows with love and making you ask yourself is it okay to receive it this much from him?

There's one thing you can do now, try to return it to him with the same amount even though you know he'll always have more for you.

The two of you stay like that, pouring out all of your hearts and bleeding together, consoling and seeking comfort from each other, letting the bad out so you both have room for something new and hopefully, better things.

The two of you have always been criers so it's no surprise that it takes an hour for you to finally calm down. You both laughed seeing each other's face from crying, swollen eyes, and runny nose.

The teas are cold by the time you reach for it to have a sip, "don't drink it. It's terrible," you tell him.

Felix looks at his tea and cringe, "I don't even drink tea," he says.

"I know."

"Then why did you?" He asks with an annoyed glare.

You chuckle and put down your mug again to grab more tissues to blow your nose.

"Want to go and grab some meals?"

"Looking like this?" He asks in disbelief, pointing at his swollen face from crying.

You laugh again and take the mugs back to the kitchen, putting them in the sink.

"Well, there's always drive-thru," you simply resolve with a smile.

When you thought Felix is ordering that much food for both of you, he sits back down in his seat and asks you, "What do you want?"

You got into a little fight because you insist on paying this time and once you got your order, you parked the car in the empty part of the parking lot, facing the busy main street.

It's not an ideal place to eat and talk about things in between, catching up on all the lost time and enlightening him about some misunderstandings.

"I didn't mean to not tell you about studying abroad because I did, I just..." you pause to sip your soda through a straw.

You recall how you decided not to tell him that you were going to leave him to study something that he didn't even know you have a passion for.

"You were always so excited about music and how you wanted to do it with me," you continue.

You turn to look at him in the dark of the car with the only source of light coming from the streetlight, "I didn't want to ruin that for you."

Felix puts down the piece of fry he's holding and sighs, "I understand," he says.

He wipes his hand with a napkin, "I was mad and heartbroken but now, after hearing that, I'm glad that you took it, glad that I didn't force you to stay," he sincerely says.

It's a relief that Felix finally knows the truth and that it was just a misunderstanding, but there's another thing that he should know.

"You know I got homesick all the time," you confess.

Felix drinks his soda by gulping it instead of using a straw.

"And it wasn't a place or a thing, or... the food," you gleefully chuckle.

"It was you. I missed you when I was away."

There's a crease formed a questioning expression on his face, "Only when you were away?"

You break into laughter and nod, "yeah, only when we're far away from each other," you confirm.

Felix takes a moment to process this newfound fact then nods, "Okay, I can accept that."

The food wrappers mount in the front seat of the car and you shove everything into the plastic bag while Felix is connecting his phone to the car stereo so he can play some music.

You hand him his cup of ice cream then you pick up your own, opening the lid to dig into it with a spoon. Maybe it's because both of you are full and both staring out at the windshield, the silence taking over the space but it's the comfortable kind.

It creates this safe space where Felix finally found the comfort to speak his heart out. He puts down his cup and sighs as he reclines in his seat.

"I wasn't even sure it is love," he begins.

You keep eating the melted ice cream in silence while intently listening to him.

"I just thought that I only admire him because he's so cool, you know?" He says with a foolish smile.

You nod in agreement and that's not because you're biased, it's a widely known and proven fact.

"So I allow myself to admire him more, getting to know him more and he let me."

Felix stares up at the car ceiling, not sure what he's seeing at it then continues talking, "But he makes me feel seen, he always acknowledging my presence, he's so involved in my life that the next thing I know, I'm in it. I'm in love."

He closes his eyes and lets out a long sigh. Those words are louder than the music playing in the car, he lets those words hang in the air and echo in the small space, in the hope that it will help him find the answer.

Felix gets nothing but the quiet of the night with the constant buzzing of the streetlight looming over the car.

"I know I couldn't just tell him that and he'd reciprocate it," he says with a snide laugh.

"So I hold it in because it's better to not say it than risk losing everything by saying it out loud," his voice turns lower the more he speaks.

He then turns his head and looks at you, "I couldn't tell you because..." he stops in the middle of the sentence and you can't tell if he's running out of breath or losing his thoughts.

He looks away then shakes his head, "I honestly don't know. I just feel like..."

He stops again and he closes his eyes as if what he's going to say next pains him.

"I fear that you would change around me," he mutters.

You feel something dropping onto your lap and only realized it then that you're crying. Somehow you're not mad about his decision to not tell you about it, it's normal for him to be scared to open up a part of himself and the judgments he'll get from it.

Rather than being mad, you feel bad for not being there for him when he needs you the most.

"You know I love you," you tell him with your tears rolling down your cheeks.

You gently put your hand on his and hold it, "I love you no matter what," you assure him while staring into his glassy eyes.

Felix sniffles as he fights the urge to cry and puts his other hand on you.

"That's not the only thing that makes you, Felix. I've known you for years and you better believe me when I tell you that you're of so many things," you tell him.

You swallow air to not let your cry get in the way while you're talking, "You're of so many lovely things. You are beautiful and kind, you're a good person, you have a good heart, you never think ill of anyone, you're thoughtful and passionate about what you do, you—"

You squeeze his hand to emphasize the words you're going to say to him, "you deserve everything and more."

Felix retracts his hand to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand and takes a deep breath. He looks at you with a sad smile on his face, "Thank you," he says with a hoarse voice.

"You are very welcome," you tell him.

You grab the clean napkins from your lap and hand them to him, taking one for you too.

"Oh, great! We're crying again!" You complain while dabbing your teary eyes with it.

Felix laughs as he also wipes his cheeks with the napkin, laughing at each other's faces again for the second time that day.

It reminds you of that song and how the two of you fit in those lyrics: "We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year, running over the same old ground. What have we found? The same old fears. Wish you were here."

There's no need to wish now because he's right here.

Always being the good friend he is, Felix refuses your offer to drive him home.

You walk out of the apartment building together to get a taxi for him. The night is getting cold as it's the beginning of fall.

"I'll send you tickets for our encore shows," he says with a jeering smile.

"No, thanks, I'll buy it myself like anyone else," you kindly refuse.

He covers your mouth with his hand and shakes his head no, "I'll send you tickets for both days so you have no excuse to not come to at least one of them," he insists.

Since you can't say anything with his hand over your mouth, you give in with an annoyed glare.

Felix triumphantly smiles and puts his hand down, he stares at you, he has that look when he hesitates to ask something.

"What is it?"

He licks his lips before speaking, "Have you two talked?"

Your smile wavers even though you have expected this question, "Felix, I don't think I—"

"Why? Are you afraid that I'll be jealous?"

You take a step back but he closes the space again, "or are you afraid that he'll choose me?" He jokingly asks.

He puts his hand on your shoulder and gently squeezes at it, "it takes no genius to know that he likes you very much," he says.

"Do you like him too? That I don't know."

You scoff and look down at your feet, not sure if you're avoiding Felix and his questions or anything related to Hyunjin altogether.

"But like you said, we've known each other for years and I know you like him back," he concludes that you know is true and there's no use to deny it, Felix would know when you're lying.

"And..." he cups your face with both hands and makes you look at him, "I'm not getting in the way of my friends' happiness."

He leans in close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath on your face, "I'm happy if you're happy, remember?"

There's no way that there's another Felix in this world, he's special, one of a kind and you're lucky that he's your best friend.

"No, it's just... not going to work. He's..." you try to avoid saying his name but it comes to a moment where you can't describe him in another way.

"Hyunjin..." and saying his name unlocks the memories and the emotions that come with it.

You take Felix's hands and put them down, "And I am just... me."

Not giving up yet, he holds your hands and warmly smiles at you, "and you're of so many things. You're smart, you're funny, you're a great photographer, you're beautiful, you're a great friend, a great person."

You can't help but smile when he compliments you the same way you did to him.

"And you deserve to be happy," he adds in the end.

You so badly want to believe that but having your friendship back is already more than you deserve, how come you still want more?

You shake your head and refuse to be greedy, shaking your head to convince yourself that this is not what you want. You already have what you want and he's right in front of you, "Felix, I don't want to—"

The only hard thing to do is say no to Felix, you look away and see a taxi coming your way.

"There's a taxi," You run to the side of the street while hailing for it.

Felix sighs knowing that you choose to leave the conversation instead of going through it with him. He walks over as you open the taxi door for him.

"I take it that you're promised to come to our shows," he says, not accepting any other answer from you.

You nod and smile.

He pulls you into a hug and holds you tightly, "thank you for tonight," he murmurs.

You hug him back and absorb the heat of his body that always puts you in comfort, "thank you for tonight," you murmur back.

He pulls away just enough to look at you, smiling so brightly to finally land a kiss on your cheek, "I'll see you soon!"

"See you soon," you repeat and to surprise him, kiss him back on the cheek.

He gets taken aback for a while and blinks his eyes at you. While holding his cheek he says, "I like that," he innocently says.

You laugh and push him into the backseat of the taxi, "Goodnight! Be careful!"

Felix rolls down the window to wave his hand at you, "It's cold! Get inside!"

You give him the thumb up while taking a few steps back to watch his taxi drives further away from you.

As you're making your way back inside, you convince yourself that this is enough. You got your friendship back therefore you shouldn't be thinking that you can have love too.

It's time for Felix to fix the other friendship.

He knows it would be just as hard but it's for the good of both his friendship and the band. They can't continue to treat each other like this but at the same time think as if nothing happened.

Before the band rehearsal starts, he comes up to Hyunjin as he's tuning his guitar inside the studio. He gulps air and gathers his guts to ask him, "Hey, can we talk?"

Hyunjin glances up to see him and he seems to have expected this, he puts his guitar away, then says, "Alright."

Han puts his bass down as he notices that they need privacy so he leaves the studio, then closes the door behind him.

It's a good thing that they're talking in a soundproofed room, Felix can easily talk without fearing that someone could hear them. But when it comes to talking, he doesn't know where to begin.

"You know everything by now," Felix nervously starts.

He wipes his palms down his jeans even though they're not sweaty, "I always have my eyes on you but obviously, now, you have your eyes on someone else," he awkwardly chuckles.

It's making him nervous as Hyunjin remains quiet, he would be grateful if Hyunjin is yelling at him instead of staying silent.

"I'm sorry," Felix hurriedly concludes before he starts aimlessly rambling on and on.

"I didn't mean for you to find out about this. I was going to keep it all in—"

"For how long?" Hyunjin cuts through his words with eyes intensely staring at him.

"W-what do you mean?" Felix stutters as it's the first time Hyunjin snapped at him like this.

Hyunjin gets up from his chair and stands right in front of him, face to face and giving him no way out but going through it with him.

"How long did you plan to keep it a secret?" He asks again.

Felix takes a step back and reorganizes his breathing.

"Why do you like me?" Hyunjin bluntly asks.

It's getting harder for Felix to breathe he feels like his lungs are collapsing, "I didn't mean to. I-I..."

Felix doesn't know how to explain it. One day he came to the realization that he has feelings for Hyunjin.

"It just happened. I don't know," he explains. He's just as clueless as Hyunjin about everything.

"Why, Felix? Why?"

"I don't know," Felix replies with a desperate sigh.

"Why—"

"I said I don't know," this time Felix cuts him off with an aggressive answer.

Hyunjin searches for his eyes and forces him to look back at him, "Why did you apologize?"

Felix sees that Hyunjin's gaze softens and he's no longer mad, he's rather sad, it's a heartbreaking sight to see.

Hyunjin licks his lips and brushes his hair to the back, "you have feelings for me but I know it can't be helped," he says.

He puts his hand on Felix's shoulder and looks deeper into his eyes, "I should be the one apologizing to you."

Felix has everything planned in his hand but this is not part of that, he got speechless the table is turned.

"For being such an asshole, for being insensitive and a lousy friend," he softly speaks while keeps looking into Felix's eyes.

Hyunjin puts his other hand on Felix's shoulder and lets out a long, shaky air. It seems like he's struggling to let out what he's going to say next.

"Felix, I appreciate you so much because I know that I'll never find another one like you and I would give you everything you wanted in the world," he explains.

He drops his head for a second before looking at his face again with an even sadder expression on his face, "That I am I deeply apologize for," his eyes are heavy with sadness that it's tugging Felix's heart and weighing him down.

"I cannot give you what you want," he says with a defeated sigh.

The lump in Felix's throat feels like a hot coal that burns him from the inside the longer he keeps himself from crying and so far he's been doing a great job at it.

"But will you stay beside me even though I can't give you what you want?" Hyunjin asks.

Felix knows that Hyunjin is not just asking. This question determines everything, this is where their path branches out and they have to choose where to go.

It means that Felix has to deal with the fact that Hyunjin can't accept his love and it's not like he has a chance in the first place.

Felix clears his throat before giving his final answer, "To always have you beside me is enough for me," he puts on a smile at the end of the sentence.

A smile finally rises on Hyunjin's face after a long time and it warms his heart to see it. He pulls Felix into a hug and pats his back as he eases into his arms, "thank you," he murmurs.

"Thank you," Felix says back and he can't tell him what he's grateful for, but Felix believes Hyunjin knows what he's grateful for as their hearts are the closest they have been to each other in years with mere flesh and bones in between, beating as one.

Han soon comes into the studio and hugs both of them, smiling and seeing his friends making up, making the band whole again.

"I told you guys not to fight over me," He jokes as he puts his arms around them.

Other than himself, Felix is aware that he must have been putting the band in distress, but he's glad that they give him the space and time, and patience as he picks things up at his pace.

They're part of who he is now because everyone around him helped him grow, they're there whenever he has to decide and affects the decision he takes. They hold a part of him as he has parts of them in him, they're one, and they're going on an adventure together.

Hyunjin pulls him into the middle and squeezes him together with Felix.

"I think we all should kiss and make up," Han playfully suggests.

Hyunjin, repulsed by what he said, doesn't waste time to groan, "EW!!!"

While Felix, as the personification of love touch, endearingly kisses him on the cheek. Han grimaces but not moving until Felix pulls away.

"Now we make out," Felix jokes.

Han screams in panic, "No, I said make up not make out!"

As Hyunjin holds him by his waist, Felix grabs Han's face and angles it to him, laughing as he's witnessing everything.

"I'm pretty sure I heard make out!"

Felix jokingly leans in closer while Han's scream is getting louder and louder.

This is going to be one Ssick adventure.

It brings back memories as you enter the concert venue except that tonight, you'll be watching from the front and among the crowd.

Felix texted you a few times asking if you came or not, you feel bad for not replying. For this one night, you want to experience their show like everyone else and not through the camera like you always do.

Indeed, it feels different now that you're a part of the crowd and get to watch the show, singing to every song at the top of your lungs and not worrying about anything else but having fun.

Sure, your heart hurts seeing him but with this euphoric feeling of the thumping music and loud cheers, it helps to dull the pain.

As for the band, they're getting bigger and bigger each day, literally and figuratively, they're not stopping, if anything, they're speeding on their way to the top.

You're proud of them and proud that you've been a part of it despite having just a small role in it. You're proud to be a part of their history.

Ssick, the greatest band to ever exist.

"Are you sure it's taken?"

Felix has been asking staff if someone has taken the seat he reserved for you. He has no other choice since you didn't reply to any of his texts.

"Yes, it says the ticket is scanned," the staff replies.

He's pacing back and forth while wiping his sweat with a towel, ignoring that he's tired from the show. The others are anxiously seeing him and Han gets curious as to what he's so antsy about.

"Are you waiting for someone?" He asks.

Felix looks around the room to find Hyunjin, he's nowhere so he must be showering right now. However, he smiles at Han and shakes his head, "Nothing."

He takes his phone and furiously types a new text message to send you.

Lou comes barging into the green room with a loud banging sound of the door opening, "I found this loitering outside, should we take it or...?"

Felix gets a Deja Vu, he once heard those same words before. He spun around to find Lou grinning while pulling someone behind him.

"Can you stop texting me already?" You complain while showing your phone buzzing with a new one he just sent you.

Felix squints his eyes at you, slightly annoyed that you ruin his plan to surprise everyone with your presence.

He walks toward you, scolding and pointing his finger at you, "You! Why didn't you—"

Someone cuts into the line and gets to you first, "What are you doing here? You're fired, remember?" Vin jokes.

You roll your eyes at him and give him a quick hug, "I am not fired," you persist through your gritted teeth.

Vin laughs then takes a good look at you, "What's that on your face? Is that makeup?"

You groan and stop his hand from touching your face. He's probably used to seeing your bare face with only a few layers of sunscreen and your eyes always look tired.

"Where's your camera? Don't you have photos to retouch?" He jokes again.

"Excuse me, I'm not working for you anymore," you say with a sly smile.

"You!" Vin is a second away from scolding you.

It's weird to say you miss being scolded by him but you do. You hurriedly linked your arm with him and grinned at him, "Please don't hesitate to hire me again!"

Felix doesn't want to wait any longer, he comes to hug you, "You didn't reply to my texts," he continuously nagging you.

"Oh, my God! I'm here now!" You mumble as you hug him back.

Han appears behind Felix, shouting, "Look at that! Our girl is back!"

He takes his turn to give you a quick hug, "Why didn't you come by before the show starts?"

You shrug, "It was a great show by the way and I got to fully enjoy every bit of it without having to worry someone about to scold me for not getting any great photos," you uneasily glance at Vin and giggle.

"Put you on the blacklist," he jokingly says.

You turn at Han again then at Felix, you do realize that someone else missing from this scene. You swallow air before continuing, "But seriously! Amazing, amazing show!"

It's nothing new to them that you're bad at conveying your thoughts into words, two thumbs up are enough to emphasize those words and assure them that you meant every word you said.

"Amazing!"

Just like it was timed, Hyunjin comes out of the other room while drying his hair with a towel, sucking a bottle of water. It's like time stops and you and him are the only ones existing in this moment, eyes met with so many words left unsaid.

He's so close yet so far, he's within your grasp but out of your touch. He's like a dream that you don't want to wake up to but you can't stay asleep forever. You have to face the truth that you can't have him in your wake.

You look away and turn at Felix, "Love your solo today!" You awkwardly compliment him.

"How about me?" Han asks, feeling competitive over silly things.

"You're great as always!" You say while patting his head.

Lou pulls Han back and keeps him in his place, "will you also come for tomorrow's show?"

"Not sure. I have work tomorrow," you reply.

"At least come to the after-party," Lou whines like a toddler.

You softly chuckle, "I'll try."

Felix notices that you avoid looking in Hyunjin's direction as he stands across the room, quietly opening a new can of drink.

It's sad if you have to lose your chance at love too, not when he knows that Hyunjin is in love with you and you're just as in love with him.

He doesn't want to be that person who stops his friends from their happiness.

"For tonight, I'll let you guys rest and it was truly a great show. I had so much fun!" You tell them once again.

Felix grabs your elbow, "you're leaving already?"

"Yeah," you simply answer.

You take his hand and hold it, "I'll see you again."

"Tomorrow?" He guesses.

You only answer with a chuckle and that doesn't put him at ease.

"It's nice seeing you guys! Good luck for tomorrow!" You say for the last time.

Waving your hands at them by the doorway, Felix catches your sad smile a second before you turn away to leave.

There's no way he's doing nothing when he knows his best friend deserves a happy ending.

To say that he's happy to see you would be an understatement.

Hyunjin is ecstatic, elated, delirious with happiness and that's just from looking at you. What would it be if he could do more than just look?

He wants to touch you, hug you, and kiss you, he's yearning for you, missing you like he's losing a limb of his body. He's alive but he's barely breathing.

Why can't you do this? Why can't you love him back? Why can't you at least try for him? Why?

That question lingers in his head until Felix stops him from entering the van. Hyunjin looks at him with eyes widening, "what's wrong?"

"Exactly!" Felix says back at him.

He grips the strap of his bag so hard that his knuckle turns white, "what is wrong with you?"

Hyunjin is not in the mood to talk, especially when he's tired and heartbroken still. He takes a step back to prevent himself from doing things he doesn't intend to.

"I'm tired," he shortly responds, then tries to walk past him to enter the van.

Felix once again stops him by putting his hand against his chest, "so that's it?"

"What do you want? Really?" Hyunjin may have raised his voice louder.

"You're not going to chase after her and try to fix it?" Felix raises his voice even louder at him.

Han pops his head out from inside the van, "guys, please?" He pleads, scared that they might lose it this time.

Hyunjin unclenches his jaws and instantly regretted snapping at him, "She said she doesn't want to do this," he meekly says.

"Then try to convince her!" Felix simply resolves.

He takes a deep breath to calm himself down and lowers his voice this time, "If you really love her, then prove it to her! Go to her!"

As much as Hyunjin wanted to be with you, he thinks of Felix. Hyunjin has gone through the same thing, so he knows how it feels to be in that position, to keep both sides happy he has to sacrifice his happiness.

Hyunjin drops his bag to the floor and sighs, "what if—"

Felix takes his bag from him and tosses it into the van in which Lou grabs it in time. He then takes his phone out of his jeans pocket.

"Don't think!" He says.

Hyunjin's phone buzzes from inside his jacket pocket and opens the text Felix just sent him. It's an address.

"Just do it!" Felix adds.

But does this mean Felix is on his team?

Felix grabs Hyunjin's shoulder and shakes it, "what are you waiting for?"

While holding Hyunjin's bag, Lou says, "I'll cover for you. Go!"

Hyunjin looks at Felix and there are so many things he wanted to say to him. Among apologies, he wants to say how grateful he is for him, to be existing at the same time with him and being his friend.

All that comes out of his mouth is, "Thank you."

Hyunjin's heart is pitter-patter. He feels like it's going to jump out of his chest at any moment as he arrived in your apartment building.

He takes the stairs as if his heart rate isn't high enough, taking two stairs at a time until he gets there, right in front of your door.

There are a few things he would say that he has prepared for the moment you open the door. He takes a deep breath and knocks on the door. His excitement gradually fades as every knock on your door is left unanswered.

"It's me," he says just in case you wonder who's knocking in the middle of the night.

He knocks again but there's still no answer. Getting hopeless, he leans close to the door and talks loud enough for you to hear.

"Can you please open the door for me?"

He closes his eyes and lets out a desperate sigh, "Please?"

This is what he fears the most, not the rejection but not getting the chance to explain and make things right. At least, he can go home now knowing he has tried his best.

With a heavy heart, Hyunjin turns around his feet and heads for the stairs, bumping into a person and knocking things down.

"Oh no! The eggs!" You sadly mumble as you pick up the plastic bag from the floor.

"I'm sorry!" Hyunjin mutters without thinking.

Without having to check, Hyunjin is pretty sure that he broke all the eggs as the content filled the plastic bag.

You don't even look surprised to see him, annoyed is more like it. Everything that Hyunjin has planned to say evaporated from his head. He bursts out anything that crosses his head at that moment.

"Why aren't you home?"

You look inside the plastic bag once again and sigh, "I was out to buy eggs and milk for breakfast tomorrow."

"I've been knocking at your door for an hour!"

You jerk your head back, unamused, "And I can't have eggs for my breakfast tomorrow because of you!" You scold back.

"Well, you still have the milk," he nonchalantly says then shrugs.

Hyunjin is aware of how he keeps talking without thinking and just saying everything he wants, he looks at you and you look back at him.

At the same time, you break into laughter. The hilarity lasts as long as each of you keeps breaking into another series of laughter.

When the laughs died down, he clears his throat and says, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" You ask.

"For the eggs."

"Anything else?" You ask with an eyebrow raised higher than the other.

"For coming here just now," he adds.

You nod and warmly smile at him, "Want to come in?"

Hyunjin definitely wants to come in and hopefully, will never leave.

While you're busy disposing of your broken eggs into the bin, Hyunjin walks around your new apartment and looks at each photo on the wall.

Places, sceneries, and moments captured in pictures. Looking at them, Hyunjin feels like he's looking at the world through your eyes.

"Here," you hand him a can of soda.

"These are beautiful," he compliments the photos on the wall.

"Thank you," you shortly reply.

Hyunjin opens it and takes a long gulp of it before putting it down on your desk. That's when he sees it.

"I'm offended by how you treat my token of love for you," he says.

You look around and see what he called a token of love on your desk. You guess it's the guitar pick inside the small tray full of memory cards.

You pick it up and show it to him, "this is a token of love?"

"It's my first guitar pick I used for the tour, it's meaningful, it's a token of love," he explains.

The only thing it reminds you of is how he flicked this thing at your head at the first concert, "you threw it at my head," you say with eyes widened.

"You're supposed to catch it!"

"How do I know that you want me to catch it?" You argue back.

He tips his head to the side and glares at you, "That's me telling you I like you!"

"Hyunjin, that's not how you give someone a token of love," you tell him with a snide smile.

He puts a hand on the desk to support him, "I thought you'd get it," he meekly says.

You come up to him and also put your hand on the desk, "Now you know why I thought you hated me, huh?"

It all makes sense now. He realizes he has a very unusual way to show his affection. Hyunjin sheepishly laughs and slips his hand under your arm, "Can we... hmm..."

He laughs again the moment he looks at your slyly smiling at him. Pulling you close, he asks, "Can we skip this embarrassing part and goes straight to making up then we can kiss after?"

Just having a whiff of his scent gets you intoxicated already, putting you under his spell, making you submit to his wishes, and those lips are just... incredibly tempting.

You notice that he's looking down at your lips too.

"Why don't we kiss already?" You offer a better idea.

With your permission, he doesn't waste another second to lean in and kisses you, so softly at first, and turns hungrier after a few kisses.

He still likes biting at your lower lip before pulling away, tugging it between his teeth, and making you moan as he kisses you whole, taking your breath away.

"I miss you so much," he murmurs close to your ear.

You turn your head to look at him but he captures you in a rapturous kiss, making you giggle against his lips.

"I miss you too," you murmur back the second he lets go of the kiss.

Using your finger, you trail the frame of his small, beautiful face. You admire the facial features that you believe are meticulously sculpted by God himself.

You look into his eyes as he looks back at you as if your eyes hold the universe in them, "I miss you too much."

Hyunjin sits on the edge of the desk so he can be at the same eye level as you and pulls you close, that way he can stare into your eyes and dives into them, never to come out of the surface.

"Let's do this, yeah?"

The hands that are resting on your waist, he glides them up until they are wrapped around your neck, cupping your face with both hands, he places a soft kiss on your lips.

"I think we can do anything if we're together," he says, resting his forehead against yours, "don't you think?"

Something about him that always makes you believe that you're worth more than you think, makes you believe that you can fly higher with your little wings and ride in the wind.

You open your mouth to say your answer, but he uses the opportunity to kiss your open mouth.

"I'll not take no for an answer," he mutters as his sweet smile puts you under the spell again.

You stare into his eyes, seeking the answer from his spellbinding eyes. All you have to do is put your trust in this relationship.

Just like Hyunjin said, no one has a say in this relationship, he trusts you therefore you only have to trust him back.

You nod, "Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

A smile blooms on Hyunjin's face, he expressed his happiness by giving you a long, lingering kiss, one of many more kisses to come. A token of love that lasts time and age. Miraculously, his kisses always leave you wanting more and more.

His body calls to your answer as he hoists you up against his body, lifting your legs and hooking them around his waist.

"You don't want to carry me to the bedroom," you mutter against his lips.

"Huh? Why?"

"It's upstairs."

He raises his eyebrow at you, "you think I'm not strong enough to carry you there?"

You didn't mean to stroke his ego but it's amusing to see his flabbergasted face.

"Okay then, tough guy. Take me there!" You dare him.

"Hang on tight then!" He warns you.

Putting your hands around his neck, you watch over his shoulder as he takes the stairs one step at a time. The veins on his neck are bulging through his milky skin as he uses all of his strength to climb the rest of the stairs.

"Almost there!" You tease by whispering into his ear.

Without warning, he spins you around once he arrives in your bedroom, and keeps spinning until your body hits the mattress.

You're still laughing as he places his body on top of you, putting the stray hair covering your face to the side.

He places sweet little kisses all over your face and tenderly kisses your closed eyelids before putting his lips on yours again. His hand is busy undressing you, seamlessly removing each piece of clothing without taking his lips off of you.

He whimpers as he freely roams his hand around your body, "I almost forgot how soft you are," he dreamily sighs.

You roll over on the bed and have him under you, hovering above him as your hand is working open the buttons of his shirt. You don't know how he undressed you without looking, it's certainly not easy.

You part it open after successfully unbuttoning his shirt, touching and trailing his taut muscles with your fingertips.

Hyunjin snakes his hand around and under you, tracing the curve of your rear, kneading on the flesh with his fingers teasing the fabric of your underwear.

Before you can say anything he crashes his lips at you again, kissing you harder and deeper with teeth and tongues clashing in your mouth.

With his lips glistening wet and red, words falling out of it like a waterfall.

"I love you," he softly mutters.

It's a liberating feeling to know that you don't have to hide, not have to worry about people coming, knocking at your door, and interrupting you. Other than that, you're no longer shackled by the fear of being seen with him.

With that, you slowly let go of all your worries and insecurities that stopping you from enjoying the moment. From now on, you allow yourself to have him and him to have you, wholly and completely, with all of your heart.

"I love you too," you mutter back.

That being said, you also letting go of the fears around you and replacing them with excitement about your future together.

It's so dangerous.

When Hyunjin thinks that you're the cutest when you're shy around him, that's because he hasn't you being bold and confident.

Your hand moves down to undo the button of his jeans and it's only a matter of time now, he gets to feel your hand wrapped around his length.

Bet you know how much he wanted you right now as you slowly pull it out of its confine and slowly stroke it.

What are you trying to do? He wonders.

You hover above him and kiss him deep that he has a hard time catching up with it, losing the air in his lungs and gasping for air the moment you let go. With your face merely inches away from him, you shot him a sly, seductive smile as if telling him what's coming for him and he wonders...

You start making a long trail of kisses down his body, neck, chest, ribs, stomach, and abdomen. He knows where are you heading next and he's not going to stop you despite his heart beating so fast at an abnormal rate.

The hair that sweeps his skin, tickles him, sending tingles inside and down there. It's nothing compares to when you slowly take his length in your mouth, little by little.

Propping an elbow against the mattress, Hyunjin looks at how your lips wrapped around his cock and uses a hand to compensate for the rest that you can't take.

"Oh fu—" he stops himself from cursing and reaches for your head, tangling his hand in your hair.

Mesmerized by watching you, he snaps out of his daze when you pull away and ask, "Good?"

Hyunjin, unable to provide a verbal answer, awkwardly nods.

You pull his jeans down his legs while Hyunjin shakes his shirt hanging on his shoulders, and tosses it away. Shifts his attention back to you, snaking his hand to your back to unclasp your bra and take it off of you.

Can't help himself, he buries his head in your neck, placing kisses down to your chest with his hand cupping your breast.

Drunk with the scent of your body, using both hands, he uses them to pull your underwear down your legs and gets it out of the way so he can put his hand to feel that delicate flesh under his touch.

Hyunjin thinks about you a lot, asleep or awake. However, the reality is always out of his expectations, in the best way. Sitting on the bed with you with both your hands stimulating each other at the same time. Nothing can be sexier than this.

Hyunjin was too haste to say that because the next thing you say is the sexiest thing he ever heard.

"Can I do what I want with you?"

That gets him slightly terrified but mostly excited, he doesn't know what you're going to do with him but he knows that it's going to be a thrill ride. He nods without even thinking.

Putting your hand on his chest, you lay him down on the bed and put your body on top, kissing him, making him forget the excitement that drives him almost crazy.

The next thing he knows you're rubbing up your wetness on his erect shaft, pulsating with desire.

Before his senses slip further away from him, he calls for you, "Baby?"

"Yeah?"

"Condoms?" He reminds you.

You give him a quick peck on the lips, "do you mind if we're doing it without?"

Hyunjin needs time to process it so that he doesn't say anything for a good minute.

You kiss his open mouth, "why are you so tense?"

"I-is it okay with you?" He stammers.

"That's why I asked."

"I don't want to pressure you to do things you don't want."

You subtly roll your eyes at him, "I initiated it. What makes you think that I don't want to do this?"

This is not what he expects to happen, bickering in the middle of sex. The second your eyes meet, you collapse onto his body and chuckle into his chest.

"We don't match well," Hyunjin mumbles.

"Well, we hated each other from the first time we met," you say.

He lifts your head and glares at you, "Huh? I never hated you."

You pout and shrug, "But it showed."

Hyunjin lets out a dramatic sigh out loud, "Yeah, well, what do you even know?"

You smile as you land a kiss on his lips, "what do you even know?" You repeat.

It's dangerous seeing you taking over his body, pleasing him by moving your hips back and forth and he gets to watch while comfortably lying on his back.

Yeah, it's cute to see you keep avoiding his eyes during sex but it's a whole different thing when you fiercely look down at him, then into his eyes while continuously moving.

Hyunjin almost forgot that he can still use his hands to admire your body, holding your breasts as they move along with every movement you make.

"Good?" You ask as you change your move and slowly roll your hips in circular motions.

Hyunjin's eyes are fluttering shut, overwhelmed.

"Too good, baby," he breathlessly replies.

He glides his hand to touch your lips only for you to suck on his thumb which reminds him of what your mouth feels like around his cock.

"Too good," he says again.

He brushes your hair to the side and looks at your pretty face, "you should stop staring at me with those eyes?"

That only sends you lean in close and stare deeply into your eyes, "or what?"

He groans as he feels you clenching around him and you enjoy doing it to him from that sly smile on your face.

"I'm going to cum too fast," he admits, he's been holding it for far too long now. It's actually a surprise that he didn't cum the moment he fully entered you.

"So what's the problem with that?" You simply ask.

Hyunjin doesn't want to cum before you, that's the problem.

You put your hand against the mattress and caress his face, "you don't want to cum inside me?" you boldly ask with an innocent pout on your face.

A stifled moan escapes his mouth as you grab the headboard of the bed for support and pick up the pace of your movements, driving him to his limit.

Hyunjin can't stop himself from grunting from under you, his nails dug into your flesh as he gripped your waist. His eyes screwed shut and his grunts turned into breathless whimpers then...

You slow down the pace knowing that he just climaxing but keep moving nonetheless, lowly moaning feeling his cock twitching inside you.

The moment he opens his eyes, you are looking at him with a smile on your face, "Hi, baby," you softly speak as if you didn't just make him cum inside you.

"Hi," he weakly says back, bringing your face close to kiss you.

Slowly, he pulls you to lay next to him on the bed to cuddle you and kisses you more. He places more kisses on any skin he can put his lips on and you let him have it.

As he lays there with you next to him, basking in love and bliss, he wonders if is it okay for him to feel this much.

The only thing Hyunjin knows for certain is who he should thank.

The coffee machine has started pouring coffee into the pot when you hear Hyunjin calling for you from upstairs.

He's not going to stop unless you come and show yourself to him. Half running to your bedroom, you find him still laying on the bed with his upper body exposed, basking in the warm morning sun.

"I was making coffee," you tell him as you walk to the bed and crawl over to him.

"Who needs coffee when I have you?" He wraps his hands around you and holds you close.

Without warning, he turns you over on the bed and pinned you under him, intensely gazing into your eyes with his warm brown eyes.

"Now that we're together, I was hoping I get to finally wake up next to you," he says.

You rest your hand on the back of his neck, raking his dark locks with your fingers, "we did."

"No, I woke up to an empty bed," he corrects you.

The way he sulks is adorable, his lower lip jutting out and a crease formed between his eyebrows. You don't think he would be fussing this much about waking up alone when he knows he's staying over at your place.

As an apology, you softly kiss him on the lips, "I'm sorry."

He smiles after hearing your apology, "Apology accepted."

"Already?"

He nods.

"Then we should go downstairs. The coffee is ready," you tell him.

He stops you from trying to get up and takes both of your hands to pin them above your head. Shaking his head, he says, "Not yet."

You sense mischief and you can see it in his eyes, filled with wild glints. You can't do much with him pinning your hands against the mattress.

Hyunjin kisses you, hard and deep, his tongue invades your mouth with teeth faintly biting on your lips.

A moan spills out of you as he starts gently kissing, sucking the skin on your neck. There's no need to guess, it's obvious that he wants to return the favor to you.

With the knowledge that you know what he can do with every part of his body and puts it to good use, you lay back and let him please you as he wants.

Hyunjin puts the duvet away, exposing both of your bodies to the sunlight flooding the room as the day gets brighter. His skin is glowing and warm, he's scintillating like the sun itself.

The way he slowly thrusts into you without looking away from your eyes, not even for a second feels like it's not just physical pursuit.

"Look at you," he says.

He cups your jaw in one hand, "You dare to look back at me now."

That makes you aware that you've been staring back into his eyes and instantly looking away from him. Hyunjin chuckles as he kisses your cheek.

"You feel so good, baby," he whispers into your ear.

You hook your legs around him, sending him deeper into you.

"But last night... oh..." he sighs as he hastily kisses your neck.

"You fuck me so good last night I don't think I'll ever forget it," he adds.

With those beautiful lips, he can say provocative words and makes them sound like poems, making you extremely aroused and deeply in love at once.

Sending you close to your high that you gripping his shoulders from the sensation that keeps building up.

"Close, mmh?" His lips brush yours as he speaks.

You nod with your eyes closed.

"Cum whenever you want, beautiful," he murmurs before planting his lips on yours again.

His lips which keep latching on yours, contained your loud moans as you get your release. The knot inside you tightens and loosens, waves of pleasure washing over you again and again.

With your eyes still closed, you search for his lips to kiss and when you finally did, you say, "Thanks to you, we can't have eggs for breakfast."

"Are holding a grudge against me?" Hyunjin asks in disbelief.

Sadly, this heavenly moment has to eventually end. You have a job to do and Hyunjin has to go back for a soundcheck, Vin has been calling him non-stop since he gets into the bathroom to shower.

"You'll come, right?" He asks as he walks around the room, picking up his clothes from the floor and putting them on.

"I don't know how long I'll be working," you honestly tell him.

He stops moving and sulks again, "You have to come!"

You softly laugh and sip your coffee before answering, "I may be late but I'll come, yes."

It's all he wants, he wants you to come no matter what but that's what you can promise him. His phone is buzzing again and you see that it's Lou.

You pick it up for him, "yes, he's putting on his shirt right now."

Lou laughs hearing your voice, "Hope the bed is alright."

"It's alright. I just have to wash the sheet," you jokingly say.

"Ugh!" He groans in disgust.

"Tell him I'm waiting outside," Lou adds.

"Okay, I'll tell him," you confirm and hang up the phone.

Hyunjin knows even before you say anything, but still, you tell him, "Lou is waiting."

You head downstairs, finishing your cup of coffee right on time as Hyunjin lands on the base of the stairs. You come running to hug him and he catches you on time.

"I'll be waiting for you," he says, pecking your lips after.

"I'll be late," you remind him again.

"That's okay," he says.

He kisses your lips again and not letting go until you're running out of breath.

"But know that I'll be waiting for you," he says with a playful glare.

You laugh and kiss him back, "Don't make Lou wait too long!"

With another long kiss on the lips and the last one on the top of your head, Hyunjin finally lets go with a smile on his face. And as much as you are reluctant to do the same, you slowly let him go, selflessly sharing him with the rest of the world.

The first thing Hyunjin hears by the time he steps into the green room is Han's whistle, eyes squinting at him with a malicious smile drawn on his face.

"Ooo... look at that glow on you, Hwang Hyunjin!" Han teases.

Hyunjin hates it when someone calls him by his full name and Han uses it exactly to annoy him. He picks up a towel from a stack provided on the desk and throws it at him.

"Shut up!"

That only amuses Han more as he's laughing on the sofa. Ignoring him, Hyunjin comes up to Felix who's having his lunch by himself.

Hyunjin picks a pack of lunch for him and sits next to him.

"She's coming tonight, right?" Felix asks.

Hyunjin puts down his chopsticks next to his lunch, "yes, but she has to do a job first so she'll be late," he explains.

Felix nods and continues eating, holding his phone in one hand as he scrolls down his social media.

There's something that should be said in this moment and Hyunjin knows what to say but doesn't know how to begin.

"Felix?"

He turns his head at him, "Yeah?"

Hyunjin scratches the back of his head, "I... uh... we're thankful that—"

Felix's deep laughter startles him, "Why thanking me? You're the one who successfully got her back."

That confuses Hyunjin too but he knows for sure that he has to thank Felix for encouraging him to fight for you.

Felix takes a sip of his water and swallows it, "I'm happy seeing my friends happy. That's enough for me."

Hyunjin scoffs and not in a sarcastic way. It just baffled him how there's someone as kindhearted as Felix existed in this world. When he thinks that Felix has done speaking, he turns at Hyunjin again, "But Hyunjin..."

"Yes?"

"If you ever had a change of heart," he says as he gazes into his eyes, "just kindly tell her."

Hyunjin nods.

"Don't hurt her," Felix finishes.

Hyunjin knows that behind that tender gaze, he's warning him that he's ready to go against him if he ever caught him breaking your heart.

Hyunjin thinks that you're lucky to have a friend like him which reminds him that he's just as lucky to have a precious friend. That inexplicably urges Hyunjin to protect him more because a person like Felix belongs in a fairytale, not in this cruel, cruel world.

"Come on! Come on!"

Lou hurries you to run and get to his pace as he leads the way to the stage. You're late and Lou can't leave his post too long, he's risking his job as we speak.

Learned from experience, you're slowing down when it comes to climbing the stairs in the dark since Lou doesn't have time to turn on the flashlight on his phone.

The band is in the middle of playing the song when you finally take the spot on the side of the stage and exchange a quick hug with Vin to finally enjoy the show.

It's certainly nostalgic to be there. A few things changed but some remain the same. It's bittersweet but you only want to focus on the latter part.

It's when the band finished the song, Hyunjin sees that you're here. He looks rather elated to see you, he wants to come but hesitates to do so.

You wave your hand at him instead and mouthed, "Told you I'm coming."

He foolishly smiles and eventually caves in, walking to the side of the stage, handing Lou his guitar before grabbing you by the waist and kissing you.

"Hi, you," he mutters.

"Hi," you say back then gets cut off as he kisses you again.

Lou, in an annoyed tone, says, "Okay, lovebird, time to get back to the stage."

You gently push him away as the band is about to play another song.

Hyunjin grabs his guitar back from Lou and slung the strap around his shoulder, "I love you," he mouthed.

You cup your hands around your mouth and mouth it back to him, "I love you."

Oblivious to the fact that Lou is witnessing everything and looking disgusted, horrified, not amused. You respond with what he always gives you, a nonchalant shrug.

Turn your attention elsewhere, you wave your hand at Felix as he's passionately drumming, busy using both hands and feet to keep the rhythm going.

"Felix, the greatest drummer in the world!" You shout at him, sending him grinning and almost losing his focus.

For the last song, Lou puts his arm around you to dance and jump together, ignoring your lungs burning from running out of air.

You cheer loudly as the band takes their final bow at the end of the show and gets ready to welcome them at the back of the stage.

A grin rises on your face at the sight of Felix, you come up to him and give him the hug when it's usually his job to do so.

"Why are you so cool, huh?" you aggressively ask while patting his back.

You keep hugging him, long enough until it emptied the emotions in your chest, "I am so proud of you!" You sincerely tell him.

He kisses your cheek, "Thank you, babe!"

Aware that someone else is waiting for his turn to hug you, Felix reluctantly lets you go. You see Hyunjin appears behind him, ignoring the exhaustion and sweat rolling down his face, he's slipping his hands under and holding you close.

"You're not going to say anything nice to me?" He asks.

You pretend to think and stalls from answering, "Uhm... no," you joke.

With his hand on the back of your head, he angles your head to kiss you again, deeper than before.

"You taste salty," you comment.

He looks down at his t-shirt soaked in sweat but instead of pulling away, he pulls your hands tighter around him, leaving you no option but to let his sweat seep into your clothes as well.

Hyunjin leans in to kiss you but someone holds him back from doing it, "It's my turn now," Han says.

Han looks at you, "I'm getting a kiss too, right?"

Hyunjin pushes him away and possessively puts his arm around you, "Not a chance!"

However Hyunjin can't linger around you for long and you sneak a kiss on Han's cheek when he's not looking, "There you go!"

Han is looking taken aback by the kiss as he touches his cheek, wide eyes and dazed.

Hyunjin turns around to take your hand, "Come, baby!"

You look over your shoulder at Han and gesture to him to zip his lips, keeping it a secret between you two.

Han confirmed with a wink shot at you.

You look down at your clasped hands and then at him as he brushes all of his hair to the back, "Hyunjin?"

He pulls you close to his side, "yes?"

"Does it mean I can have you for myself again?" You ask.

He smiles hearing that and nods, "I'm all yours now."

Felix may have not gotten his love but he surely gets his happiness, double, triple even.

He's happy to see you happy, to still have this precious friendship with you, and remains best of friends. A friend that he can always call in both good times and bad times. A friend he can freely be himself and not be afraid of being judged.

And as he looks at you sitting with Hyunjin, whispering words to each other, looking so in love and happy. He's happy about that too.

Happy that both of his friends found love and are happy with each other and he wishes it stays like that for a long, long time.

At last, Felix is happy for his band, especially after successfully finishing the tour. In this after-party, he can see that this happiness belongs to everyone who takes part in making each show happen.

It's happiness after happiness after happiness. His heart is overflowing with nothing but happiness.

What everyone doesn't know is that behind that happiness, there's that drop of pain.

Felix still needs time to finally let go of his love, it's not easy considering that his object of affection is always around him.

Even a drop, it still stings and constantly prickles at his heart.

Felix consoles himself with a glass of drink in his hand as he looks at the night sky, he likes to think that the crescent shape is the moon smiling down at him.

"What are you doing out here alone?" Lou asks, shattering the intimate moment Felix is having with the moon.

Felix sheepishly smiles, "nothing. Just drinking," he says, showing him the lukewarm whiskey in his glass.

Lou nods and stands next to him, also looking up at the night sky and looking at the same moon. A gust of cold wind blowing his way but Felix wants to stay here longer.

"It'll pass," Lou suddenly says.

That makes Felix's head turn, "Pardon?"

Lou looks at him and says it again, firmly this time.

"It'll pass."

Felix doesn't know he needed to hear it until he did and that inexplicably rejuvenated his spirit. An ending is an opportunity for another beginning.

"You're right," Felix agrees.

"Of course I'm right," Lou boldly remarks, holding out his drink at him.

Felix clinked his glass together with him for a toast, feeling eager to begin again.

As for Lou, he's finally standing right in front of him for the first time, seeing him eye to eye, perhaps, Felix can see him now and knows that he's been there all along.

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