#Which EV brand is best | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jiminjamms · 10 days ago

Text

sex therapy :: 32. uno reverse

chapter tags/warnings: aftercare. mentions of cum and creampies. other sexual content. nicknames. extremely strong language. corruption. family drama.

word count: 3.9k

notes: the last chapter was 97% smut. oops. plot? literally, what plot? well, here is the plot. also, happy new year's eve and new years! likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

With sweat stuck onto your forehead and spit plastered across your chin, you panted like an overheated dog. Such were the consequences of dealing with too many hands, cocks, and men.

After the sinful fiasco with your sex therapists, your body quivered from exhaustion.

Not to mention, you had been stuffed.

Holding in a potent cum concoction within your womb, you did your best to keep the fluids in, but the sheer volume forced a slow dribble to slide down your plush inner thighs.

You winced from the unwelcome cool against your warm skin, feeling flustered, frazzled, and disheveled.

Sukuna thumbed the dried tears that streaked your cheeks, Geto carded his hand through your hair, and Choso massaged the sore spots on your soft ass, all cooing about how you’ve been an angel for them and that maybe…you all should find time to do this again.

When the three dressed themselves and stepped out eventually for a cigarette, they left you looking at your window reflection, in which you noticed how makeup smudged across your cheeks and how fluids coated your neck and chest.

Never had you felt this...deranged.

Yet, absolutely nothing could be compared to the hot mess that was the Toji Fushiguro whom you straddled.

The man lolled his head back with a low groan and ran his thick fingers through his scalp. His dark strands had become drenched in perspiration and clung to his face's rugged planes. Blistering in his formal attire, he tossed his charcoal blazer aside, undid his knotted tie, and stripped off his button-down. His chest, dusted in a healthy pink shade, heaved. After his pleasure, he still looked like a Greek god in his shame.

Despite all your egregious encounters with him, you still flushed when seeing his bare-chested body. His formalwear might be different from his usual black T-shirt and white lab coat, but he hadn't really changed. He was still fit and subtly edgy with the designs that swirled around his chiseled upper body.

Amid the tattooed tapestry, your gaze once again became drawn by the inked phoenix that rose victoriously from ashes, a symbol that seemed like a parallel to Toji himself. Resilient. Indestructible. Enduring. Both confronting and overcoming challenges, standing stronger and more determined despite their struggles. Each feather branded across his torso held wordless stories about not only his triumphs but also his scars.

“Princess likes what she sees?”

Toji's sudden interjection surprised you. Fuck, he's caught me staring.

After you ogled at his body for too long, the man had naturally taken note, and—with you, of course—he simply had to tease.

"Your tattoos suit you," you had been forced to admit. Not that you lied.

In response, his green eyes held a gentle glister that contrasted with his animalistic actions mere moments ago. "That’s cute. Thank you."

He reached over your shoulder for a tissue and dabbed at your collarbone.

"What are you doing?"

"Cleaning you up," answered Toji promptly. With the napkin, he soaked up sins, wiping away at the unholy mixture between sweat, spit, and semen as though they never tainted your perfect body in the first place. "That's the least I can do."

He worked in silence, slightly hunched in his seat, the scattered light from the above chandelier casting sharp shadows over his angular face. Wisps of jet-black hair framed his temples as he hung his head in focus, his breathing turning steady. Toji looked so normal, like he wasn't some sex therapist or some important corporate executive or an heir to a multi-billion fortune.

In this one, singular moment, Toji was just...Toji.

"Why are you doing this?" you asked suddenly.

"Doing what?" Mistakenly, he assumed you referred to how he sought another napkin, this time to wipe at the trickle that ran like white lava down your thighs. “We made a mess."

"No, not that. Why did you become my therapist?" Of course, you did not forget your first encounter with Dr. Fushiguro, particularly how Toji ripped your new patient form to literal shreds the moment he noticed your last name. “You could've kicked me out of your office that day and left me miserable, but you didn't. Why?"

He slowed in his motions and his hot breath skimmed over your upper lip.

Then, he smiled faintly. "Can I abstain?"

This was his hint that the answer wouldn’t be something you liked.

"No." You still wanted to know. "Tell me, please."

Despite your reassurance, he seemed reluctant, his jaw working as he trapped his tongue piercing between his teeth.

"Because you were too…innocent," Toji eventually admitted. He sounded earnest, but he gave you a cautious glance like he wanted to gauge your reaction. "A pretty lady coming to see Toji Fushiguro because his little cousin Naoya Zenin couldn't please you properly? Clearly, you've never had a proper fuck. I wanted to completely ruin you, baby. I wanted to use you. And, shit, that pussy made me want to keep you for myself forever. Sure, I also had a two-timing ex, but who cares about my little cousin's mistress when I had his wife in front of me?"

Even though you braced for a brutally honest response, hearing his words firsthand stung.

Yes, you were naïve back then. However, to hear your closest confidant admit his initial, manipulative motives jabbed at your sensitive heart.

From your husband to your therapist, you were constantly a pawn on another person's chessboard. Yet, the worst part was that you didn't notice the game until much later.

"I am sorry," Toji started again. Perceptive as usual, he noticed how your mood suddenly soured. "I had all these shitty intentions because Naoya fucked me over, so I wanted to take my anger out on you. But, when I realized that you’re just an oblivious puppet in his play, I wanted him to realize that he was mistreating you, and," one long exhale, "most importantly, I truly did want to help you."

Mulling over his words carefully, you sank your face into his shoulder. "Are you just saying that to make me feel better?"

“No, I am being honest," and the dark green in his eyes reflected that. "I didn't expect to ever see you again after our first session. Thought you got scared off for good until you called me to book another appointment. Honestly, at that point, people suspected you to be Naoya’s lap-bitch and spy. Hope that explains the shitty attitudes from the other therapists and my son." Toji flicked the dirty tissue into the wastebasket. "I defended you, though, if that means anything. I thought you were nice and entertaining and, as I've pointed out numerous times, that you deserved better. What I didn't think was how I would end up bringing you into," and he motioned around with his head, "all of this.”

Breathing in slowly, you took in the man's heavy bergamot scent and allowed his warmth to anchor you.

“So, how do you plan to use me now?”

Among your incessant inquiries, this question must be the most pointed.

Toji, realizing this, gazed ahead. Momentarily, you wondered where his thoughts had wandered off to this time, his focus on the ceiling sharpening for a moment before he reverted his attention back.

"There is no plan to ‘use’ you, sweetheart. Because you mean a lot to me," he still responded with great conviction. "You are cherished."

Beneath the rough edges in his features laid a softness—a softness that you started to become familiar with—as he brought his hands to your hip.

“Live a happy life without Naoya," he added eventually. "You don't need me and the other therapists anymore. Only brokenhearted and anguished people are our clients, so forgetting about us should be easy."

Was it wrong to feel even more hurt when you heard that?

Literally one moment ago, Toji was telling you how much you meant to him. Now, he was telling you to go?

"Client or not, I thought we were friends. You even told me once that I'm somebody special."

“You are," he responded matter-of-factly. "You are very special. Which is why I am not going to force you to hang around or anything. That way you don’t think anyone is ‘using’ you. You're young and capable, and I want you to live your life as you wish.” Then, his voice became uncharacteristically soft. “Because I care about you.”

As nonchalant as he tried to come off, Toji also sounded so...broken.

Plenty of people—plenty of women—came in and out of Toji's life. Megumi had said so himself, admitting that his father used to 'sleep around a bunch' after his biological mother passed.

Since then, Toji had probably gotten used to how the women he encountered only wanted him for his name, his wallet, or—yes, to put things bluntly—his dick. Tsumiki's mom would be the best and most recent example.

But, you wanted to heal Toji as much as Toji had healed you.

"There's something Megumi told me the first time I stayed over at your apartment," you began suddenly.

Toji arched a brow, the tendons by his neck taut. "Is that so?" Knowing his angsty son, he sounded curious but moreso concerned. "Like what?"

'Are you going to marry my dad?'

No, you would die from embarrassment before you could admit that.

"Megumi told me about what happened to his mom, your first wife."

"Ah." Beneath you, Toji tensed up. His tongue darted over his scar like he wanted to continue, but no words came out.

So, he stopped and waited for you to continue.

"I...am really sorry to hear about what happened to her."

In the end, Toji tilted his head, a small but obviously sad smile playing on his lips.

"That's years ago." He tried to sound like losing his first wife in a freak accident didn't haunt him anymore, but you knew that the catastrophe still did.

"Well, Megumi also told me about what your relationships with other women were like since then," you resumed. "Particularly about your second wife."

This time, you truly stumped him. "I see."

"Unlike her, I am not going anywhere," you asserted and tightened your hold around him. "No one is forcing that decision upon me, either. Since you want me to 'live my life as I wish,' my wish is for us to be friends for a long time...and for the same reasons friends want to be friends."

"Is that genuinely what you want?"

"Yes. Truly."

Whether due to your common backgrounds in the Japanese aristocracy or the juxtaposition he offered to your ex-husband, Toji had become your haven. He grounded you after your emotional tumbles and uplifted you with compliments and praise—like an anchor, an unyielding outlet with whom you could share your pains and transform your frustrations into something lesser.

Whenever you had needed him most, Toji had been there.

Always there.

Consequently, you hoped to be the same for him.

When Toji cupped your jaw with a large hand, you slowly pressed your cheek into his palm.

“You care a lot about others but forget to think about yourself,” you went on, criticizing him in a light tone. There was also a question that you had been meaning to ask. “Like, why did you agree to take on the CEO position again after experiencing the Zenin family and your past?”

His fingers flexed slightly into your skin.

“My decision is not about the people who wronged me, but rather the people who depend on me,” he clarified after a beat, his voice lowered like he confided in himself as much as in you. “I look at Mai and Maki, who’ve been treated like garbage their entire lives. I think about Megumi and Tsumiki, who deserve a world with the best opportunities. For them and for others, I want to create a future with something better. ”

Which reminds you.

For the therapists, taking on renewed roles within the Zenin Corporation would be concerning given that they have previously faced accusations of neglecting the business in favor of their own pursuits.

“What will happen to sex therapy?”

Naoya Zenin returned to his apartment lobby tossed (yes, tossed) following a blindfolded car ride home.

To some degree, he wished he hadn’t come back at all since—after retrieving his phone and searching the Internet—he discovered a new reality where media spokespeople, online netizens, and business leaders welcomed his cousin’s return to leadership while denouncing his own.

It was like the universe had been waiting to have Naoya reckon with his misconducts all at once, for he never fully understood the consequences of his sins until his face appeared over news websites, tabloid front pages, and social media feeds.

Even when he had business to attend to the following day, he could hardly push past his apartment entrance without being swarmed by meddlers who somehow had gotten intel on his address. Naturally, many people wanted to hear directly from the businessman who had fallen from grace, especially when the company he once led was one of the largest market players in the Asia-Pacific region. First came the paparazzi, the blinding white flashes from their cameras all seeking to capture his face. Then came the other onlookers, jeering with many insults his way.

‘A scumbag is what you are. A disgusting cheater!’ ‘You don't even deserve a penny of your net worth!” ‘Your company, colleagues, and family deserved better!’ 'Someone like Toji Fushiguro!'

The moment Naoya reached the backseat of his sedan, he smashed his phone in one savage blow, startling the chauffeur as the gadget's screen shattered. Didn’t matter. He had the money to replace that by noon anyway.

Meanwhile, with white-gloved hands on the wheel, the driver tried to hide his tremor.

"A-Are you o—"

"To the corporate headquarters," Naoya ordered. "Put your fucking foot on the pedal or the next thing I'll be blowing up is you."

"Yes."

Well, that shut him up.

Thanks to that, Naoya arrived at the Zenin Corporation headquarters in record-breaking time, but he encountered yet another human barrage. People shouted over one another, some even pushing microphones toward his face, as the crowd followed him like a gaggle of geese while he walked into the lobby.

He frowned when his ID badge failed at the security turnstiles, his access removed from the building's security system already. Just two days ago, he held hours-long meetings in the offices above. Now, two days later, he had been deemed an outsider without access to even the company café on the first floor.

He kicked the turnstile (as if that would change anything), and a steely voice interrupted his anger.

"Naoya Zenin, sir," a woman in a security uniform began, "you are no longer with the corporation and are causing a disturbance. Please, leave."

The blonde snapped his badge back into his palm before tucking both hands into the front pockets of his pressed pants. He sauntered forward slowly, making sure that the woman noticed the difference in their height. "No, I won't. I have an appointment."

"Please," she barged in again, unintimidated by his taller frame. Her voice this time was more stern as she glanced over at the nearby swarm. "You're creating a commotion on private property.”

Did he look like he cared? "My family's private property."

"Sir, I—"

"He’s with me." With a third voice joining the conversation, both turned around as no one other than Toji Fushiguro himself walked over. "I invited him for a private meeting. Allow me to escort him."

The antagonism that the security woman had with Naoya vanished completely as she apologized profusely to the older man, and the blonde found her switch in character fucking deplorable and insulting.

After a brief exchange, Toji looked over. “Thank you for arriving on time. I was worried you missed my text since I sent the message very early in the morning. Let me bring you upstairs.”

Despite receiving a smile, Naoya didn’t like the belittling and patronizing tone that made him feel like a child who needed a chaperone or a beggar who needed a savior.

Nonetheless, he followed in tense silence.

When he walked into the designated conference room, Naoya tried to not look surprised to also see his father and your father in the same vicinity as well (although, given that they were the Board Director and the Chief Operating Officer, respectively, that should’ve been expected).

He had to look away from their cold gazes and instead took the seat closest to the door. “Why do you want to talk to me?”

Toji, on the other hand, settled at the head of the table and crossed one leg over his knee. “This meeting is a courtesy. One you don’t deserve but here we are. We’ll be brief.” He leaned across the table, sliding over a sleek black folder. “Later today, the Zenin Corporation will hold a press conference to address our organizational and management changes. In this binder are terms for your settlement. We would like you to accept the proposal, leave, and never associate yourself with the Zenin name again.”

When Naoya saw the documents inside, he wanted to laugh right then and there. “This is a shitty offer that practically gives me nothing.”

What else did you expect? Toji’s unwavering expression seemed to say.

He even opened his mouth to speak, but a much coarser voice spoke first.

"Because you did that to yourself,” Naobito explained. “As of now, your actions have stripped you of everything and you’re still scoffing at someone else’s generosity? You’re a selfish manipulator who has jeopardized our stakeholders’ trust. Our family name will not tolerate your presence moving forward!"

"Listen, Father—"

"Mr. Zenin to you!"

Naoya could not believe he was related to the much older man in front of him. Except for their common features, the duo shared absolutely nothing including warmth for each other.

Which, to the blonde, was ridiculous. Because how could his parent not view the situation from his lens? No one understood the struggles that tormented him since his childhood and the reasons his anguish turned into greed.

"This isn’t fair.” Naoya’s voice rose, trembling with barely contained anger as he shoved the folder away. “I can’t understand you, Fa—Mr. Zenin. Why? Why does everything that Toji touches turn to gold in your eyes? The world welcomes him back like he’s a prodigy, and you hand him everything on a silver platter. But then, why can’t you defend your one and only son in a situation like this? Anything…anything I do, to you, is not enough.”

With his chest heaving, Naoya had to pause and catch his breath. He didn’t want to admit that he was on the verge of another outburst, only to be met with no sympathy in return.

"You and Toji have never been in the same position. Not now, not before, and not ever.” As the Chairman made himself clear, his voice cut through his son’s rant like a blade. “While no one is perfect, Toji—in the past and present—earns respect by owning his failures and proving his worth. Due to his team’s work in the last twenty-four hours, he stabilized the company, helping us avoid an immense drop in our market value and cancellations from our business partners.” In addition to his utter disregard for his son’s feelings, Naobito even mocked him with a scoff. “Meanwhile, you don’t play by the rules, boy. You exploit them to suit your needs, and when something backfires, you blame everyone but yourself. Toji didn’t come back because I handed him anything. He came back because he knows how to make amends.”

Stop.

Naoya wanted this mental torture to come to a fucking stop.

His father’s scorn was bad enough, but the comparison to Toji—always Toji—was like salt ground into an open wound. What made the situation a hundred times more humiliating was how his older cousin sat across the table with a nearly indiscernible smirk on his face.

Yet, what could he realistically do when the Chairman went on?

“In my entire life, I only requested from you one thing,” Naobito added. ‘Power and money did not interest him when compared to his daughter, so the one promise I made is that you would love her.’ “And what did you do?”

Precisely not that.

The pointed change in topic made Daisuke L/N sit forward uncomfortably.

"Be honest with us, Naoya," he said. "Aside from marrying my daughter to legitimize your position in your family and company, what other intentions did you have?"

The man stared ahead with a solemn expression because, in that moment, he wasn’t the Zenin Corporation’s Chief Operating Officer but merely a father.

A father who had been promised a dependable and loving son-in-law, not a cruel and ruthless deceiver.

Naoya shrugged.

"My original plan was to have your daughter for as long as I deemed her useful. Maybe until my old man kicked the bucket and I became the head of the Zenin household? Or, if I liked her enough, maybe longer? I don't know, not that I really cared." Naoya didn't give a shit that he sounded like a total sociopath. As a grown man, he could make his choices in speech. "But, what I did care about is how people only noticed me when I had that…that—"

At that, Toji had to cut him off. “You’ve said enough. We’re done here.”

“I’m not finished.”

“Yes, you are. As I mentioned earlier, this meeting is only a courtesy.”

Toji rose from his seat and adjusted his blazer, the other executives doing the same but with pursed frowns. When the Chairman and the COO left quickly in silent rage, Toji followed them and gestured toward the black folder again on his way out.

"Anyway, all the legal documents are in there. Can read through them, if you care. You have the next hour to inform my secretary of your decision. My advice is to accept our offer since no legitimate company in the Asia-Pacific—or anywhere else in the world—will want you now. You ensured that for yourself."

Toji walked to the exit in precise and confident strides, but just before disappearing into the halls, he paused.

"Oh, but one last request.” Except what he said next wasn’t a request, but a demand. “Never show yourself to us or anyone we care about again. Take this as a warning."

Then, the door clicked shut.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Naoya stood up.

“God fucking damnnit!” he hollered at the top of his lungs like a mad maniac. His hand shot out, sweeping the papers off the table violently, sending them scattering across the floor.

He hissed and seethed. How he hated this feeling. His current ordeal had been his wake-up call to realize that merely being born into status didn't mean he would be invincible.

If only he hadn’t let his unchecked arrogance blind him, then his life trajectory would have played out differently!

…Or maybe nothing would’ve changed at all.

Because perhaps, all these years, Naoya Zenin had been trying to grasp onto something that was never meant to be his.

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: This is my final update for the year, and the next chapter will be the final chapter for this entire fic. I'll save my sentimental notes for later because I don't want to get sappy, but I wish everyone love, hugs, and good health forever and ever! Side note: I am very bad at updating the below taglist, sorry!

taglist: @dissociatingdiva @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @nemoyr @huangfairy @sakuraryomen01 @shadowarchon @203steph @agentdedf1sh @cloudybabes @lynn-writes-things @illicitwriter @7oji @kikuchimi @chaoticjojofan @musicisme333 @kumocchin @s-guru @mwahilovemylife @hey-gurls69 @cloudsinthecosmos @moon-mumu-moon @kazscara @skilerfrostfairy @funicidals @nico707 @proteovaldez @tsukiyohanayome @marimoares @qirbys @puffaloxx @sakanoshitaa @arizzuruu @kissditrio @lewd-bunny14 @mistyheart @szired @supsii @yvy1s @lazyassfinals @katkbc @tokyometronetwork @downtown-roponggi @the-cosmos-network

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk smut #jjk angst #jjk fluff #toji x reader #toji x you #toji x y/n #toji #sukuna #choso #geto #fanfiction #anime fanfic #anime #jamms.sextherapy

171 notes · View notes

reasonsforhope · 8 months ago

Text

"Clothing tags, travel cards, hotel room key cards, parcel labels … a whole host of components in supply chains of everything from cars to clothes. What do they have in common? RFID tags.

Every RFID (Radio Frequency Identification) tag contains a microchip and a tiny metal strip of an antenna. A cool 18bn of these are made – and disposed of – each year. And with demands for product traceability increasing, ironically in part because of concerns for the social and environmental health of the supply chain, that’s set to soar.

And guess where most of these tags end up? Yup, landfill – adding to the burgeoning volumes of e-waste polluting our soils, rivers and skies. It’s a sorry tale, but it’s one in which two young graduates of Imperial College London and Royal College of Art are putting a great big green twist. Under the name of PulpaTronics, Chloe So and Barna Soma Biro reckon they’ve hit on a beguilingly simple sounding solution: make the tags out of paper. No plastic, no chips, no metal strips. Just paper, pure and … simple … ? Well, not quite, as we shall see.

The apparent simplicity is achieved by some pretty cutting-edge technical innovation, aimed at stripping away both the metal antennae and the chips. If you can get rid of those, as Biro explains, you solve the e-waste problem at a stroke. But getting rid of things isn’t the typical approach to technical solutions, he adds. “I read a paper in Nature that set out how humans have a bias for solving problems through addition – by adding something new, rather than removing complexity, even if that’s the best approach.”

And adding stuff to a world already stuffed, as it were, can create more problems than it solves. “So that became one of the guiding principles of PulpaTronics”, he says: stripping things down “to the bare minimum, where they are still functional, but have as low an environmental impact as possible”.

...how did they achieve this magical simplification? The answer lies in lasers: these turn the paper into a conductive material, Biro explains, printing a pattern on the surface that can be ‘read’ by a scanner, rather like a QR code. It sounds like frontier technology, but it works, and PulpaTronics have patents pending to protect it.

The resulting tag comes in two forms: in one, there is still a microchip, so that it can be read by existing scanners of the sort common within retailers, for example. The more advanced version does away with the chip altogether. This will need a different kind of scanner, currently in development, which PulpaTronics envisages issuing licences for others to manufacture.

Crucially, the cost of both versions is significantly cheaper than existing RFID kit – making this a highly viable proposition. Then there are the carbon savings: up to 70% for the chipless version – so a no-brainer from a sustainability viewpoint too. All the same, industry interest was slow to start with but when PulpaTronics won a coveted Dezeen magazine award in late 2023, it snowballed, says So. Big brands such as UPS, DHL, Marks & Spencer and Decathlon came calling. “We were just bombarded.” Brands were fascinated by the innovation, she says, but even more by the price point, “because, like any business, they knew that green products can’t come with a premium”."

-via Positive.News, April 29, 2024

Note: I know it's still in the very early stages, but this is such a relief to see in the context of the environmental and human rights catastrophes associated with lithium mining and mining for rare earth metals, and the way that EVs and other green infrastructure are massively increasing the demand for those materials.

I'll take a future with paper-based, more humane alternatives for sure! Fingers crossed this keeps developing and develops well (and quickly).

451 notes · View notes

rewh0re · 1 year ago

Text

MORE THAN JUST A DREAM ; GETO SUGURU

—wc: 3.2k, fluff, no curses au, college au, alcohol consumption, new year's kiss, ocs (reader's friends are ocs), implied oc x gojo, use of the pronoun 'she' once (except that it's gn! reader), gojo is RICH

a/n: I had to repost don't even ask it wouldn't show up in tags😐 anyways happy new year baby boos take this geto fic as a gift. REBLOGS + FEEDBACKS ARE APPRECIATED!!

divider cred: @/benkeibear

Gojo Satoru's annual New Year's Eve parties were a lavish affair. Set in the luxurious penthouse that he owned which he would only use for parties he hosted. There was a myriad of alcohol—all from the finest and most renowned brands—to choose from. There was music, there was dancing, there was a fucking champagne fountain for Christ's sake.

For a party hosted by some college student, it sure was a grand event. From freshmen to seniors, everyone attended it, dressed in their finest cocktail attires and fancy shoes.

For a party with so many attractions to catch the eye, Gojo Satoru and his best friend Geto Suguru took the cake. The pair could never be separated, may it be in the various parties and events they attended or when they were strolling the college campus. While Gojo was the louder, more exuberant and outgoing out of the two, Geto's genuine smile—whenever he was around his best friend—was hard to miss.

It was Geto's smile that always made your heart flutter.

You remember the first time you had noticed Geto Suguru. A simple, ravishingly attractive man, who sat two seats in front of you. He probably was not the teacher's favourite with the way he often got into little discussions and debates with the professors regarding the day's topics if he disagreed with certain aspects of it. Always polite and respectful but with a conniving smile on his lips nonetheless if he proved his point of view to be correct. His voice was always calm in class and he never stepped back from expressing his opinions. You thought it was a phenomenal quality to have.

You would see him often during breaks, his usual spot being a few tables away from yours. His rambunctious best friend was always at his side along with a girl who would always have a cigarette between her lips. Shoko Ieiri—you later learnt—was her name. Your friends and you would often not care, but sometimes, Gojo's mirthful laughter echoed throughout the area and you were bound to see Geto shake his head with a little snicker of his own at his friend's nuances. That's how you came to know of Geto. A well sought after, smart, insanely attractive and—from what you've heard— a polite and kind individual. You had admired Geto from a distance for a whole of three years now. The conversations you had with him could be counted on one hand but he had always been sweet to you. You wondered if he even remembered you. You did have flings here and there but you had always had that little spot of affection in your heart for the man who was Geto Suguru.

In the three years that you have been in this college of yours, you have never attended Gojo Satoru's new year's eve parties. You had heard stories and every year you had promised yourself to attend it. However, every year your mother called you back home to celebrate the holidays with your family and you could never deny it. Your friends initially complained but they understood your position and promised to tell you all the things that happened. One year you heard the crazy new year's kiss one of your friends had with a boy she met there and how magical it all seemed. The other year they told you how Gojo and Geto both got shit faced drunk and danced to every song until they physically dropped on the floor, unable to move and Shoko had to come take them away with a sigh. You learnt how Gojo normally avoided alcohol, feasting on the many desserts instead and how Geto and Shoko were often seen smoking a cigarette on the balcony together. You too wanted to attend this annual event, that was like a myth to you.

This year allowed that. With your father planning an impromptu vacation for only your mother and himself, you had the perfect opportunity to finally attend the party you had wanted to go to since your freshman year.

It was 31st December and you were beyond excited. Your friends had been elated to know that you would finally visit Gojo's party with them and they took it upon themselves to get you dolled up and ready for it, paying no heed to your complaints of "I can do it myself."

That's how you found yourself in Gojo's penthouse. The place was bustling with noises—music, talking, whistles (which you assumed were directed to the people who were dancing). The place was huge, something way out of your imagination. There were lights and decorations that increased the beauty of the place ten folds. And there was that goddamned champagne fountain that everyone talked about. “Gojo Satoru is rich,” was the very first thought that crossed your mind after a moment of awe and speechlessness.

"He's crazy rich," your friend, Aoi, laughed.

Oh, so your thoughts might have slipped out from your mouth.

"I'm sure Geto is too. Didn't you see his motorcycle in the parking area? That has to belong to some super loaded dude," your other friend, Saeko commented.

"Didn't you have a thing for Geto, y/n?" Saeko wiggled her eyebrows at you as she crossed her arms, a smirk evident on her lips.

"Eh, kinda. I mean, he's okay to look at I guess," you shrugged, making your way to the bar. The college parties you went to never had a bar. The alcohol had to be derived from the kitchen and most of the time, it was some sort of jungle juice.

"Oh shut up, you like him," Aoi smacked your back as she settled herself beside you on the bar stool.

"I never denied that," you winked at her as you downed the tequila, the bartender served the three of you.

"Having fun so far?" An unknown voice made the three of you turn your heads. Gojo Satoru. Standing tall in front of you, a lazy grin on his face and for heaven knows what reason his stupid sunglasses covering his eyes even at 11 in the night.

"Gojo Satoru," Saeko crossed her legs, leaning back on the bar counter as she smiled at him.

"In the flesh ma'am," he winked at her. A charming wink that girls would often faint over.

"That didn't answer my question though. Having fun?" He asked again.

"What would you offer as compensation if we said we weren't," he laughed at Saeko's little bantering comment. He knew she didn't mean it. Everyone had the time of their lives at Gojo Satoru's party.

"Oh Saeko, you have been coming here for the past two years. No need to lie to me, sweetheart. However—if I have, by chance—failed you this year, do dance with me. That'll be compensation enough," he winked at her.

"And they say chivalry is dead," your friend shook her head.

"I noticed you brought a friend this year?" His eyes raked over to you as he offered you a welcoming smile.

You returned it with a wave of your own.

"That's y/n. She didn't wanna miss out on this year's party," Aoi introduced you as she sipped on her strawberry daiquiri.

"Great to meet you y/n. I hope my little party meets your expectations," before you could counter his comment of the party being "little" a velvet smooth voice laced with mild jest interrupted your conversation.

"Don't annoy the guests Satoru," and there he was beside his best friend, Geto Suguru. His long black hair tied in a semi bun, an earring dangling from his right ear and a cheshire grin on his lips. Geto Suguru was a beautiful man to look at.

"I could never do that Suguru," Gojo turned to look at his best friend as his grin widened.

"Saeko brought a friend with her. I was just acquainting myself. Meet y/n."

Geto's eyes slid over to your figure, his smile softening. You could feel yourself warming up under his soft and welcoming gaze.

"You are in my psychology class," he said as he offered you his hand for a shake.

"I am," you shook his hand, the feeling of his fingers against yours, erupting little butterflies in your stomach. The coolness of his many rings against your warm hand sent shivers down your spine.

"I think I need that dance Gojo," Saeko said over the blasting music and the male was quick to respond. Giving her his hand, Gojo led your friend away towards the dance floor. She turned around to wink at you and Aoi before the pair disappeared.

You could only laugh at her antics. Saeko was a known flirt and you had heard how every year she would have a little fun with Gojo. This was the first time you had seen it and you could not help but laugh. Good god that girl knew what she was doing.

"Every damn year this happens," Geto chuckled as he leaned on the counter behind you. "I don't know if I want those two to be together or not with how much they flirt on this one day every year."

Aoi excused herself with a smirk, leaving you alone with Geto. Based on how the night went, you would either thank her or strangle her, but that was a problem for later.

"Why have I never seen you here y/n?" Geto looked over at you, tilting his head in question. His smile never left his face.

"Got caught up with my family every year. Decided to be here for a change," you ordered a glass of sangria, diverting from the tequila you were having earlier.

"I hope you can hold your liquor,"

"Aren't you a gentleman Geto," you smiled up at him.

"Oh yeah I definitely am," he nodded his head, mocking your smile. "Call me Suguru."

"Okay Suguru," you pat his shoulder.

"Care for a dance?" He looked at the dancing bodies and then at you, motioning his head towards the dance floor.

"Uhh, I've got two left feet. I'm afraid I'll scare people away with my dancing," you cringed.

His jubilant laughter filled your ears as his head rolled back, eyes crinkling. Your eyes widened slightly at the beauty of the sight in front of you. You did not quite understand if the slight intoxicating feeling that you felt was due to the alcohol you consumed or the laugh that he offered.

"Don't worry about that. Half of us got two left feet, me included. Come on," before you could protest, Geto was already pulling you towards the dance floor.

The next few seconds were a whirlwind. One second you were sipping your sangria and the next you were in the middle of the dance floor, a hoard of sweaty bodies surrounding you and Geto's hands held your waist tightly. You hesitantly wrapped your arms around his neck as he smiled reassuringly at you. Your initial nervousness faded as Geto started swaying to the beat. Before you could process anything, you were there with him, living in the moment. You both danced to the music as his arms wrapped around you, twirling you around and swaying you. Somewhere between your dancing, you spotted Gojo and Saeko. She twirled in his arms, laughing as she landed on his chest.

"Cute aren't they?" Geto screamed in your ear over the blasting music.

"She never told me about this," you shook your head at him.

"Oh this is their annual ritual. They'll flirt for one night and pretend that the other does not exist for the rest of the year," he twirled you again. "I've told Satoru to just date her and he always says 'nah she is not into me.' I swear to god he's so stupid at times,"

"I think they'd make a hot couple, don't you?" You smiled at your dance partner.

"Oh absolutely."

Geto could feel a sense of warmth in his chest as he saw you letting yourself free, enjoying and dancing to your heart's extent. The pounding in his chest increased and he blamed it on his dancing.

He had always known you as the quiet student in his psychology class who sometimes answered the professor's questions. The few times you had talked was in class whenever you had to add points to open discussions. He had always found you to be pretty. He didn't know you personally till now, but he had seen you with Saeko, sitting a few tables away from theirs. He was glad he finally got to talk to the person he had been gaining the courage to talk to properly for a while now.

"Wanna get out of here?" He asked you as he pulled you close.

"Where are you gonna take me?" You poked his nose.

Geto laced his fingers with yours and pulled you out of the crowded area as he took you upstairs. He led you to a balcony that looked down at the city below. You had never really been this high up somewhere so you were awestruck by the view. The cars zoomed past below and the city donned a look you had never seen before. Lights decorated the buildings, light dusts of snow covered the streets as they fell from the sky above.

"Like what you see huh?" Geto snickered.

"This is wonderful—what—I have been missing several things," you leaned over the balcony to get a better look.

"Easy now, don't want you falling over. Also, yeah. This is like my escape, you know. When I get a bit exhausted by the party I come here, especially for the new year's countdown. I like seeing the fireworks," you had completely forgotten that it was new year's in a few minutes now.

"Shit how long since it's the new year?" You gasped at him.

Geto took out his phone from his pocket, squinting his eyes at the screen before putting it away.

"Uh four more minutes," he leaned on the balcony railing as he looked at you.

You could hear the test firecrackers going off in the distance. One then two and they stopped for a moment.

"You look absolutely gorgeous by the way," he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"You don't look too bad yourself. I especially like what you've done with your hair," you gestured at your own to make him understand.

"You like my hair?"

"Oh absolutely. It's stunning. Do tell me your hair care routine."

"Maybe I can text it to you?" He dipped his head down towards you.

"Are you asking for my number Geto Suguru?" You gasped in mock surprise. "Scandalous."

He was opening his mouth to probably say something witty when you both heard it. The countdown to the new year. Loud voices from the floor below started counting. The last ten seconds of this year.

10...

You both looked at the door and then at each other as you shared a small laugh.

9...

He came ever so close to you.

8...

His gaze was set on your eyes as you fiddled with the locket that rested on your chest. The intensity of his gaze made your insides jump.

7...

His hand travelled down to your waist, holding it with a light grip.

6...

Your eyes travelled down from his dark obsidian eyes to his lips as he licked them with a swipe of his tongue. What you would give to just feel them on yours.

5...

"You know I always did think you were a beautiful person. From the moment I first saw you in psychology," he whispered, his breath hot on your face.

4...

"Yea I kinda thought you were okay looking too,"

3...

He laughed at your comment as he pulled you closer by your waist, “just okay?”

2...

You could feel his lips hovering over yours, his eyes fluttering shut just like yours.

“Just okay…” you whispered.

1...

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

The echoes of the plethora of drunk college kids had become background noises the moment you crashed your lips on his.

You could hear the confetti pop and the firecrackers burst lighting the dark midnight sky with a million colours but all that mattered in the moment were his lips that moved in perfect sync with yours. Your hands gripped his hair as his own grip on your waist became tighter. He trapped you against the balcony railing and one of his hands came up to cup your face as he slightly tilted his head in a way to deepen the kiss. You could feel his lips perfectly fit with yours, a taste of mint on his tongue. His cologne invaded your senses, jumbling up your mind further. He smelled of nashi pear, cardamom and vetiver with a hint of woody musk. You felt yourself falling apart due to his entrancing aroma. Kissing Geto Suguru made your stomach do several somersaults and your heart was so erratic in its beating, it could jump out of your ribcage. This felt like a dream. Hell, was this even real?

You pulled away for breath as your eyes scanned his face. There was adoration in his own two dark eyes and something akin to lust.

"Happy new year Suguru," you raked your finger through his hair as his head dropped down on your shoulder.

"Happy new year y/n," he planted a gentle kiss on your shoulder before pecking your neck.

A loud squeal in the very next second, broke the two of you apart.

"OH MY GOD SUGURU, YOU'RE GETTING BITCHES?" Gojo Satoru was smiling mischievously with Saeko by his side.

"Shut up Satoru," Suguru groaned at his best friend rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"I hate you so much, your timing is the worst," he flipped him off before pulling you to his side.

"In my defence I didn't know you would bring someone here this year. Every year you are alone—"

"SHUT UP SATORU," Geto yelled in embarrassment as a tint of red covered his cheeks.

"You don't bring girls here often?" You asked amused.

"Oh he never does. This is the first time!" Gojo stated proudly.

"You're annoying them Satoru," Saeko smacked Gojo's head as the latter whined about everyone being mean to him.

"Ok what is going on? I searched the whole penthouse and you all are here?" A panting Aoi burst through the door.

"Y/n got the guy," Saeko said casually and it was your turn to turn a shade of red.

"SAEKO!?"

"Y/n got the guy? You mean Geto?" She looked over at the two of you as Geto waved at her with a smile.

"Ok this is huge?! Y/n oh my god finally," she squealed in her hands.

"Ok the lot of you can leave you know? Just give us some time alone, geez," you ushered your friends away including Gojo who would not leave without giving Suguru a rough smack on his back.

"Did you like me? You know, before this?" He took your hand in his as he rubbed circles on the back of each of them.

"Kind of," you sighed. "I mean I guess I did have a small crush on you?"

"Okay so now we definitely need that number," he tilted your chin up as he pecked you lightly before bumping his forehead with your.

You could say you had a pretty eventful start to the new year.

446 notes · View notes

neiptune · 19 days ago

Text

atsumu miya x will you be my new year's kiss?

Atsumu walks through the door with a few presents balanced in his arms, thick scarf covering his face up to his nose. The apartment is unusually quiet, the only details confirming your presence the colorful lights on the tree you decorated together the first day of december and a few pots left on the stove.

“Babe?”, he calls, confused. Maybe you’re getting ready for the party, which gives him enough time to take his coat off and sort all the boxes. He finally picked up the gifts he couldn’t give on christmas, Bokuto’s legendary new year's eve dinner celebration the perfect chance to check the remaining names off his list: Kiyoomi, Shoyo, Shugo, Rin, Shion. You helped him pick every gift but Atsumu refused to have his sense of creativity fully obscured by your good taste. He hopes Kiyoomi will enjoy his brand new, expensive antibacterial hand sanitizer.

As he walks upstairs, he calls for you again but once more there is no response. He finds you in your shared bedroom, head buried underneath a million blankets, a weak cough the only sign of life he gets.

“Baby? Are you okay?”, he rushes to your side, lifts the covers just enough to get a glimpse of your exhausted face.

“’Tsumu, you’re home”, you try to clear your throat but it still comes out in a hoarse whisper, “sorry, I think you’re gonna have to go to the party alone. I’m sick”.

“You’re sick? How did this happen? It was that asshole colleague of yours, wasn’t it? The one who always comes to the office with a fever, that jacka-”

“I just think going grocery shopping with my hair still wet wasn’t smart”, you chuckle from underneath che covers, “I’ll be fine, just wanna rest tonight. Tell everyone I said hi, ‘kay?”.

Atsumu frowns.

“What? No way I’m leaving ya alone, I’m not going”, he’s alrady taking off his tie by the time your half-lidded gaze emerges once more.

“No, ‘Tsumu! Please go and have fun, it’s new year’s eve!”.

“Nuh uh, I’m making ya soup and putting my pajamas on”.

“But-”

“Rest yer voice, pretty. D’you need any medicine? I can run to the nearest pharmacy”.

You weakly shake your head no.

“I’m fine, it’s just a cold. Some paracetamol will do”.

Atsumu feels your forehead with the back of his hand and smiles, dipping his head to gently press his lips to it afterwards. He murmurs some sweet reassurances into your skin, strokes your hair and tenderly puts out the last embers of your objections. It’s not a bother, his friends will understand, you didn’t ruin anything, he’s happy he gets to take care of his girl.

Atsumu likes to party but he always says all he needs are those he loves, what he’s doing is hardly important. People make his moments and you happen to be his favorite person.

His new year’s eve is hardly ruined as he hums in your kitchen, puts together your favorite chicken noodle soup as you sniffle upstairs. He cuts fresh bread, makes lemon tea and fills your biggest cup with water, quick and efficient as the situation requires.

When he’s back by your side, tray in hand, you sit up with a deep groan and Atsumu gets comfortable on the side of the bed, insists on feeding you the best soup ever made. After every spoon, the question of whether you can feel all the love put in there makes you break into an exasperated smile.

“Did you eat?”, you take the medicine he hands, grateful, then melt against the pillows once more.

“Yes”, he lies.

“Go eat something”. Atsumu huffs at how easily you read him.

“Later, ’m not hungry”, he feels your temperature with his hand again, then boops your nose to make you laugh.

“I’m sorry”, you sigh, “this is so not how I wanted this night to go”.

“Stop apologizing or I’m gonna have to do it too next time I get sick”, he walks to the other side of the bed and lifts the covers, “and ya know how I feel about apologizing”.

“Go sleep in the guest room! I’ll make you s-”

“Ya talk too much”, once in bed, with a content sigh Atsumu wraps his arm around your body and pulls you in, “besides, I have a question”.

“What?”, you grumble, adjusting yourself to rest your head on his shoulder. He gently rubs your arm, turns his head just enough for his lips to graze your forehead as he speaks again.

“Will you be my new year’s kiss?”.

“Why do I feel like you won’t take no as an answer?”, despite the frustration in your tone, you chuckle.

“Damn right I won’t”, Atsumu smiles. Kissing you is worth getting sick. Kissing you is worth anything, really.

dear @heavenlyakin, a sweet secret santa dropped by to leave this gift for you! happy holidays 🎄

#atsumu x reader #atsumu x you #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu miya x you #holiday servings event

81 notes · View notes

isak-dot-gov · 7 months ago

Text

I'm gon' make you feel it

A/n: Uh hey. This is the first time I'm posting on here so I hope you like it. Kinda nervous btw. Also not proofread.

Word count: 2226

Summary: Months after you and Rhea break up, your best friends decide to take you out for a night in the city after not seeing you for a while. while there, you run into Rhea and the rest of the Judgement Day.

Warnings: Suggestive(nothing actually done tho)

My masterlist :)

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

“Y/n, come on. We haven’t gone out in so long,” I heard Jasmine say.

“She’s right, y/n/n, you’ve been MIA for so long now. Please come out with us,” Eve says.

Jasmine and Eve have been my best friends since the three of us were in the first grade. We were placed at the same table in the classroom’s seating chart on the first day and we’ve been friends ever since. They have been with me through all my highs, lows, and everything in between. From celebrating birthdays and acing tests to comforting each other through heartbreaks and family troubles, our bond has only grown stronger. We've shared countless sleepovers, road trips, and late-night talks that have made us inseparable.

Tonight they were trying to get me to join them on one of our ‘late night adventures’. Basically what would happen is that we would get ready to go out and hit the city with zero plans or expectations on what we would be doing or what the outcome of the night would be. Sometimes it would be going from one club to the other and sleeping over at one of our houses. Other times it would end with us getting matching tattoos. The most recent one of these nights was about six months ago, a month after I broke up with Rhea. We got tipsy, went to a trampoline park and I ended up getting a brand new set of nipple piercings. To say these nights were some of the most fun I’ve ever had would definitely be an understatement.

“Girls, I don’t think I’m up to it tonight. I’ve been so busy with work lately,” I said with a tired sigh. Ever since Rhea and I broke up, I’ve thrown myself into my work as a way of avoiding the feelings I not only had for our situation but for her as well. Rhea and I broke up seven months ago after a huge argument. She felt that I shouldn’t be having so many female friends and that I could potentially be cheating on her with one of them, which was completely untrue. The reason I had so many female friends was because I was in an all-girls school for my whole primary and highschool, because of this women have always taken up the majority of my social life. Unfortunately for me, Rhea had always been the jealous type and no amount of reassurance that I gave her ever seemed to calm the green monster that tended to take over whenever I hung out with people she didn’t like. Getting to the point where I was willing to let her go was hard, but I was able to do it after Jasmine and Eve showed me exactly how unhealthy we were together.

I was a wreck for a few weeks after the breakup. Rhea would constantly call, so much so that I had to turn my phone off and only have it on during the hours that she spent working because I knew she tended to stay far away from her phone during those hours. I never wanted to leave the house and I barely got any sleep in. Thankfully, my best friends got sick of it quite quickly and made me start coming out of my shell again.

“Girl, that’s exactly why we should be going out tonight,” Eve says.

“Let loose a little. Give us 30 minutes of your time. We promise if you really feel uncomfortable after that time we’ll go to my place and watch a movie or something,” Jasmine says.

“Promise?”

“Promise,” my best friends say in unison.

“Ok ok, I’ll do it,” I say with a smile.

“Yes!”

“Fuck yeah!”

___________________

Two hours later and I’m sitting on a bar stool with my friends on either side of me and my third drink of the night in my hand. We reminisce on our primary and highschool years when four people enter the bar and completely shift the atmosphere in the room. I notice the bartender slightly shift her posture and briefly check herself in the reflective wall that stood behind her, facing those sitting in the bar. After she does so I hear a familiar voice next to me say and my high spirit for the night is immediately crushed.

“Uh can I get two whiskeys on the rocks, a gin and tonic, and a martini?” Damian, Rhea’s friend and fellow Judgement Day member, says next to me. I freeze and shut my eyes tightly, while doing so, I hear Jasmine and Eve fall silent and keep their eyes on me. Once I open my eyes, I notice their eyes on me as they carry sympathy for my current state.

“Oh hey, y/n. I haven’t seen you since…” he trails off and I can hear the cautious tone in his voice as he stops himself from saying anything that would make me uncomfortable. I always preferred Damian over the rest of Rhea’s friends, he always felt the need to make sure I was ok and in moments like these, I really appreciated him for it.

“Hey, Dami. How have you been? What brings you out here?” I saw with a strained smile. I have no idea why I feel this way or why I’m acting this way towards him. He never did anything to me, in fact, all he’s ever done was look out for me.

“I’ve been doing alright. Judgement Day’s going to Wrestlemania, so we decided to go out for drinks as a way of celebrating,” he says with a soft smile. Soon after, the bartender brings the drinks he ordered for him and his friends with a flirty smile and a wink. Uh, ok I guess.

“Anyways, I’ll hopefully see you around. I’ll tell the rest you say hi,” he says.

“Oh you don’t need to…” I start but he walks away before I get to the end of my sentence.

“Well that went better than I thought it would,” Jasmine says obliviously. Eve and I shoot her side-eyes as she gives the two of us a genuine smile, the Essence blush she’s wearing showing on her cheeks a little more due to the lighting in the bar.

“Do you want to leave, y/n. We don’t mind if you do,” Eve says compassionately.

“No no. We were having fun. I don’t want to leave yet,” I say and genuinely mean. I haven’t felt this free in so long and I would be damned if I let Rhea’s presence in this bar ruin that freedom for me.

My friends both give me light nods and we continue with our conversation. As the night continues, one of our favourite songs from our highschool years, ‘No Hands’ by Waka Flocka Flame, starts playing. The three of us immediately get hyped and start making our way to the dance floor to dance. The start of that song marks a streak of throwback songs from the DJ and we continue dancing for a while. As we do so I feel multiple pairs of eyes on me, when I look up I notice Rhea and the rest of her friends watching me. I make eye contact with each of them one by one before my eyes focus on the girl whose whole being makes my heart dizzy. She has an attentive look with a hint of longing in her eyes as she undresses me with them. With the new found confidence in my system brought by the many drinks I've had tonight, I find it in me to wink and decide to give her a show.

‘Feel It’ by Jacquees starts blaring through the speakers and my friends and I huddle up onto each other by our fronts and backs. I’m in front with Jasmine right behind me, her left hand on my left hip and her right hand on Eve’s right hip and Eve’s hands on both of Jasmine’s hips. We start swaying together to the beat of the song and sing along. At the position I’m standing at, I have a clear view of Rhea’s booth on the upper level of the bar. She’s sitting forward with her elbows on her knees and a drink in her hand as she watches me intensely. The chorus of the song starts and I start swaying my hips in circles as Jasmine and Eve take it as a sign to follow my lead. The three of us move in sync as the song continues. I get a little too into the song as a few minutes later I feel Jasmine’s hand remove itself from my hips and two, much larger, hands replace hers on either side of my hands.

“You two wouldn’t mind if I borrowed your friend for the night, would you?”

My girls take a moment to look at me for reassurance in the response they’re going to give and I nod lightly as a sign of telling them I’ll be ok with her.

“Oh sure, Rhea. Take her home in the morning and don’t do any weird shit,” Jasmine says as she turns her attention to Eve.

“Call us if she starts acting up,” Eve says, sending a glare with her blue eyes to Rhea. I nod and feel Rhea pull me by my waist to the exit of the bar. We walk to her car slowly and in silence as the heels I chose to wear tonight start proving to be harder to walk in. Rhea quickly got impatient with my instability and swiftly lifted me up bridal style before making the rest of the walk to her car. She opens the door to her passenger seat and softly places me in the seat before closing the door and climbing in at the driver’s side.

“You’ve never done that before,” I say as she pulls out of her parking spot and makes her way to her house.

She looks at me briefly with confusion and says, “What do you mean, y/n?”

“You’ve never opened the car door for me. That’s a first.”

“Huh. I guess it is,” she says.

As I look around in her car I notice a bright pink hair tie on her wrist. Without thinking I point at it and say, “Where’d you get that? I like it. Might just get one.”

“Sweetness, this is yours. You left it at mine after you know what happened,” she says.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh,” a moment of silence passes before she says, “How have you been, sweetness. We haven’t spoken in a while.”

Fuck. There’s that Australian accent that I’ve never had the self-control to resist.

“Uh, um, I’ve been good. I mean, as good as a person can be after a break up. You know, I don’t think you should be calling me that,” I say.

“Calling you what, sweetness?” she asks.

“Sweetness. It does things to me.”

She chuckles lightly before she says, “It does things to you? Whatever could you be talking about, my love?”

I tilt my head back into the headrest of the car as I exhale deeply. “Don’t play dumb with me, Rhea. We both know you’re way smarter than that. Don’t act like you have no idea all the things you do to my body by simply being this close to me. This isn’t a good idea and we know it isn’t.”

“But I’ve missed you,” was her only response.

“I know, Rhea. And I’ve missed you too. You know that,” I say.

As she parks in her driveway she turns to me and asks, “Then why did you leave me?”

I turn towards her and respond, “We weren’t good for each other. You know that. I know that. We were only pulling each other down by being together.”

She gives me a tight lipped smile before saying, “What do I need to do? I can be better, I promise I can. I know I wasn’t a good girlfriend in the past. I was a dick. We both know that, and even when you tried to make me feel secure in our relationship I still pushed you away and blamed you for all my insecurities. I just need the chance to prove that to you. I don’t think I can hand any more time away from you, baby. Take me back. Please?”

This is a side of Rhea I’ve never seen before, and I chose to proceed cautiously because of that. She has always had the ability to use her words to get what she wants from people. However, something in the way she was looking at me made me feel like she was being sincere and my heart couldn’t help but fall for her all over again.

“Fuck I missed you,” I say as I capture her lips with mine. The kiss started out softly but turned hard and passionate really quickly. Rhea held onto me extremely tightly as if she was afraid I’d vanish at any moment. Her hands travelled to my waist and squeezed tightly, earning a breathy whimper from my lips.

“Rhea,” I said in a moan as her lips found their way on my neck.

“Mhm, baby? Tell me what you need,” she said.

“Please take me your house and fuck me.”

“That I can definitely do for you, sweetness.”

#rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley #the judgement day #wwe #womenswrestling

185 notes · View notes

sunflowersandsapphires · 25 days ago

Text

Be still my foolish heart

Of Oak and Ivy, Chapter 10

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

summary: In college, Matt Murdock had two best friends, Foggy Nelson and you. However, life had no intention of letting you graduate with him. When he reconnects with you in adulthood, he is troubled to see the hand God has dealt you and vows to use every tool at his disposal to save you from damnation.

warnings: swearing, angst (resolution at end), discussion about money and struggling financially, continuing sexual thoughts, MINORS DNI, sad matt (as if that needs a warning)

a/n: Sorry for the sporadic posting everyone, the past few weeks months, years have been crazy. Here is the resolution for the spicy angst in chapter 9! I hope you all enjoy.

w/c: 6k

Running your thumb over the crease you’d inadvertently made in the page, you worried your bottom lip as you tried to press it flat beneath the pad of your finger. This book was a rental and you could NOT afford to pay for it if it wasn't returned in pristine condition. Bills had been piling up this semester. In itself, being broke wasn't a new problem. Your inability to cope with said bills, however, very much was.

You'd been treading the poverty line since you'd left for Columbia. School was expensive, your mom wasn't there to buy groceries, and the company managing your gas bill had increased their rates, meaning your previous budget was worthless. The high cost of heating, combined with the fact that your dad was once again flaking on his contributions to your mom's rising medical debt... It was adding up.

Sure, it was stressful. Money was the biggest cause of your anxiety most days, with your difficult curriculum following closely behind. But you'd been coping well enough.

Until your subconscious decided to pile more weight onto your already struggling psyche.

The image of Matt's pompous smirk hovering over you had been haunting you all week. Every time you closed your eyes, his deep rasp rumbled in your ears–praising you for your tenacity, your performance. Even days later, the thought was thrilling. And that made you feel unbelievably guilty.

Though nothing had actually happened between you and Matt, your brain was determined to brand you as an adulterer. Any time you heard from Everett, even if it was just a text, your stomach rolled with intense regret. You felt dirty and ashamed. For needing the thought of another man to get you off, for mentally cheating on Evs while being beneath him, and for exploiting your friendship with Matt by crafting this sinful image of him.

You’d unintentionally dragged your boyfriend onto the emotional rollercoaster you were stuck on, swerving between desperate lust and distant tension without a warning. One day, you’d need to be on top of him, lips locked, and the next you couldn’t stand being within ten feet of each other. After a week of continuous flip-flopping, Everett had reached his limit, telling you sternly to figure out what you wanted before teasing him further. The brief argument only added to the embarrassment you’d been wading in.

Sighing roughly, you pinched the bridge of your nose. Humiliation bubbled in your stomach, churning around your day-to-day anxiety. Your brain felt like it was being slapped around like a tennis ball, jumping between various reasons to spiral. You had no money. You were going to flunk out of school. You were unable to hold a relationship. You'd never be satisfied in love.

Groaning, you rubbed at your temples, the pads of your fingers flickering as your pulse pushed at them. You needed to fucking study, which seemed impossible when your brain would not shut up.

“Doin' ok there, bug?”

The familiar voice startled a shriek from you, your hands flying to grab the counter as you nearly toppled out of your seat. Wide eyes flying up from your textbook, you felt heat rush to your cheeks when you saw Foggy standing there. Foggy's brows were raised, an amused smile directed at your frazzled state.

“Jesus Christ, Fog. You're gonna give me a heart attack one day.” You grumbled, shaking off the lingering fear and smoothing your clothes in an attempt to regain your dignity.

“You sure that day isn't today?” The blond asked innocently, eyes twinkling with the jest.

Huffing, you raised the heavy text you'd been pretending to read, hiding behind it as you muttered, “Shut up.”

Foggy cackled, striding behind the counter and hopping onto a stool. “What’s so interesting? You clearly didn't hear me come in.”

“This stupid Contracts assignment.” You huffed, absently running your thumb over the corner again. “I can’t get through it and, trust me, I’ve tried.”

“Hamer v. Sidway?” Foggy clarified. When you nodded, a sly grin slid over his face. “Well, wouldn’t you be lucky to have a certain handsome friend who has already digested that opinion! If only you were in a study group with him…”

You shook your head as Foggy tapped chin thoughtfully, a smile breaking through your stony expression despite yourself. “Oh are we disbanding the 3 Musketeers? I wasn’t notified.”

“You missed the public hearing.” Foggy shrugged, sighing with exaggerated weariness. “With no opposing testimony, the vote was unanimous.”

“Mr. Nelson, you aren’t suggesting that I missed 10 days worth of public notice, are you?” You raised an eyebrow, tension rolling off your shoulders in Foggy’s presence. “Because I’d have to live under a rock to overlook those signs in my most frequented areas.”

“Oh woe is me!” Foggy crooned mournfully. “Losing my beloved Musketeers to a default judgment.”

“Your Musketeers?” You scoffed out a laugh.

“Well, as the founder of our little band of misfits–” Foggy puffed out his chest, barely stifling his grin as you protested incredulously.

“Excuse you!” Crossing your arms, you forced a scowl onto your face as Foggy giggled beside you. “The 3 Musketeers of Columbia will go down in history as nothing short of a team effort. Mark my words, Franklin: if you so much as insinuate–”

Holding his hands up in mock surrender, Foggy’s laughter was infectious. “Ok, ok! I concede. This ruse was a test of your loyalty, my fair lady. One that you’ve passed excellently, I might add.”

“A test of my loyalty? I’m not the one trying to break up the crew, Fog.” You narrowed your eyes at him, your smile most definitely undermining your ability to look threatening.

Averting his gaze as his expression softened a bit, Foggy kicked his feet like a child on a swing, scuffing them lightly on the ground at the low point of their respective arc. “Fair enough. It just…you haven’t been around this week. Thought maybe you’d found better people to study with.” All humor had drained from his face, his brow slightly pinched with anxiety as he continued to avoid eye contact.

Frowning in lieu of a response, you stood from your seat at the counter, snatching Foggy in a bear hug. Relievingly he chuckled, leaning into the embrace. Resting your chin on his beanie-clad head, you squeezed him tightly. ‘Listen here, Nelson. You and Matt mean too much to me for me to even consider replacing you as study group co-founders. Not to mention that 99% of the other students here don’t hold a candle to the pair of you in any respect.”

Releasing your friend from your hold, you dragged the empty stool closer. Your shoulders brushed Foggy’s as you plopped back on top of the chair. “I promise, Fog. I’m not leaving the group.” Your voice was grave as you made the vow, the seriousness apparently escaping the man next to you who, of course, laughed.

“Christ, bug, you make it sound like we’re a middle school band on the verge of collapse.”

“And what if we are, Fog?” You threw a hand over your chest dramatically. “You know your heart ain’t in it anymore. And Matt’s kazoo work hasn’t been the same since the tour.” Breaking off into a forced voice crack, you chewed the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling when Foggy snorted.

“Ok, Matt would never step foot into a room with a kazoo in it, let alone select it as his instrument of choice.” He grimaced, no doubt imagining the assault of a kazoo on his roommate’s delicate senses.

“Well you’re lead vocals and I’m tambourine, so he doesn’t have many other options.” You explained, no longer hiding your grin as Foggy cackled.

“I’m vocals!? Ugh, we’re DOOMED!” He groaned, running a hand over his throat as if it was sore from imaginary over-exertion.

“Are we? I’ve heard legends of the Siren deep in the showers of Jay Hall.” You smirked as his jaw dropped.

“Oh that little–Doesn’t he know that making false promises is, like, unholy or something?” Foggy scoffed with embarrassed frustration. “I should’ve known he’d tell you. He can’t keep anything from you.”

Heat rose to your cheeks at the reference to your and Matt’s close relationship. Your brain began to spiral as you remembered the image of his smile hovering above you.

“Hey, I'm not actually mad, bug. It’s alright.” Foggy elbowed you, studying your face.

Nodding uneasily, you gave a weak chuckle. “I know, Fog. Sorry.”

“Did Matt do something stupid? Is that why you haven’t been around?” Foggy asked, turning his body to face you as his concern piqued.

“No!” You squeaked out in a rush, shaking your head furiously. “No, he didn’t do anything, Fog. I’ve just been stressed about school and my mom and stuff. I’ll make more of an effort to tell you guys when I need space, ok?”

The long-haired man didn’t seem to fully buy the excuse, but he swiveled back towards the counter. “Mmmhmm. Sounds plausible, but you know you can always come to me if something happens, right?”

There was clearly more to that promise than he was trying to let on, but you were too frazzled to decipher what the hidden meaning was. “Course, Fog. You too. With me, I mean.”

Knocking his shoulder against yours, Foggy’s nose crinkled as he smiled. “I know, jitterbug. Now stop worrying over me. My ego will get too big.”

Snorting at the thought, you linked your arm with his. “I’m going to ignore the slightly insulting nickname in favor of asking you how it went with Marcia the other day.”

“Marci, not Marcia. And it was AWESOME!” Foggy squealed, face lighting up as he began recounting his evening with her the weekend before.

Homework entirely forgotten, you were enraptured as Foggy animatedly walked you through his eventful evening with his bombshell classmate. Ignoring the fact that he was certainly embellishing the story for your benefit, but he'd clearly had a good time.

Just as he began to narrate how the night eventually ended, your phone buzzed.

“Saved by the bell!” You shuddered comically, smirking when Foggy scoffed in offense. Flipping open your phone, you tried not to cackle in Jen's ear as Foggy pouted beside you. “Hey Jen, what's up?”

“Did you see the email?” Glossing over pleasantries, Jen was obviously annoyed, sparking a rush of worry in your gut.

“Um, no? What happened?” You frowned, chewing the inside of your cheek as your brain began to spiral over the numerous mistakes you could've made that would result in a pissed off roommate.

“Our building won't have heat for the rest of the month.” She grumbled, definitely rolling her eyes on the other end of the line.

“The rest of the MONTH? You're fucking kidding.” Anxiety quickly turning to shared frustration, you held up a finger when Foggy looked at you quizzically.

Your building was ancient and the baseboard heaters were probably older than you, which meant they'd stood no chance against the bitter New York weather this winter. The heat had sporadically given out over the past few months, resulting in half hearted promises from the owner about new systems being installed–so this news wasn't necessarily surprising, but that didn't mean you wanted to deal with it.

“Super wanted us to know so we could 'make the necessary arrangements'. Piece of shit.” She sulked.

“Fuck, Jen, what are we gonna do? I can't afford a space heater.” Scrubbing a hand over your face, the resilient debt-induced panic that had faded to the back of your mind reared its mangey head.

“Well, good news and bad news. Good news is Oscar's parents are willing to loan us a pair that they have in their garage so we won't need to buy or rent any.” She trailed off, clearly not excited about the latter half of the plan.

“C'mon Jen, break it to me.” You huffed, not at all willing to let her ignore the less fortunate piece of the situation. If you wanted to prevent your impending nervous breakdown for another few weeks, you'd need to act on this issue immediately.

“Wewon'tbeabletograbthemuntilaftertheconference.” She muttered in a rush.

Drawing in a breath to extend your waning patience, you asked again. “Jen, in English please.”

An uneasy groan came across the line before she clarified. “We won't be able to grab the space heaters until after the conference.”

Shit. That was bad news. Most, if not all, of Columbia's 3Ls were at the Tri-State Justice Conference in New Jersey until Friday—three days from now.

“I'm sorry, but we both need the attendance credit and—” Jen explained, sounding like she was about to cry.

“Hey, it's ok, babes. I'll figure it out. Don't worry, ok? Just enjoy the conference as much as you can and I'll find a place to stay.”

“I'm really sorry, I—” She stammered.

“I promise I'll be ok.” Your throat felt tight, your efforts to stave off a breakdown over this clearly failing. ”I'll talk to you soon.“

Hanging up the phone, you dropped your head into your hands, digging your fingers into the bridge of your nose in an attempt to collect yourself.

Hesitantly, Foggy called your name. “Everything ok?”

“Uh, not really...but when is it ever?” You chuckled bitterly, your words muffled by your palms.

Two arms wound around your shoulders, pulling you into a hug that mirrored the one you'd given Fog earlier. Your face met his sturdy shoulder, and it took every ounce of your resolve to not let yourself dissolve into tears.

“What happened, bug?” Foggy asked, holding you tightly as you inhaled shakily.

“Apparently our heat went out. Again. And, uh, I don't really know what to do, Fog.” You admitted, craning your neck to look at him. “Everett, Jen, and Oscar are all out of town and I–”

“You can stay in our room.” Foggy stated simply, as if it was the obvious solution to the problem. “We don't have much, but we DO have heat.”

“Fog, you don't have to–” You protested, but he cut you off with a wave of his hand.

“I know I don't have to, I want to! It'll be a study group sleepover!!” He rubbed a circle into your back before taking his seat once more.

And that was that. The long-haired boy had already turned back to the book he’d pulled out while you were on the phone, considering the matter resolved. Sitting there dumb founded, you stared at him for a moment, half expecting him to yell “Psych!” and leave you to sort your own shit out. But he didn’t.

“Do Frodo and Sam kinda give you a gay vibe?” He asked suddenly, jarring you out of your anxious stance.

“What?” You blinked, trying to process the jump to a completely different topic while you were still thinking about a sleepover in Matt and Foggy’s shared room.

Giving a shrug, Foggy turned the page. “I mean, they’re soulmates for sure. But sometimes it seems like Tolkien did not mean for it to be platonic, ya know?” Glancing up at you with a grin, he giggled. “What? Is there something on my face?”

“Fog,” You chuckled in exasperation, shaking your head at his unfailing positivity.

“What?” Raising the book as he threw his arms up, Foggy’s smirk made you laugh harder. “See this is precisely why you need to sleepover. Matt never finds me this funny.”

“You were serious about that?” You asked hesitantly, fisting the cuff of your sweater sleeve in one hand, toying with a loose thread along its edge.

“Uh, yah? Why?” Foggy snorted, still reading and no doubt hosting a heated internal debate over one or more hobbits’ sexualities.

“I mean..I dunno, wouldn’t that be…weird?” Heat was clawing at your face, your insecurities making you cringe sheepishly.

“Ah, I suppose I’ve neglected to consider all the facts.” Sticking a folded gum wrapper in the joint of his book, he let the cover flap shut, crossing his arms as he pondered. “You are a girl, and the latest studies suggest a correlation between your gender and high levels of 'cooties'.”

Expression utterly serious, you couldn't help but dissolve into giggles as Foggy tapped a finger on his chin in deep contemplation. “Shut up, you know what I meant.”

“I'm not sure I do. Unless you DO in fact have cooties. In which case Matt and I would need to draft a contract to distribute liability in the event that we CATCH your cooties.”

“You know what,” You laughed. “Let's all be honest about who is catching 'cooties' from who. I have fantastic hygiene, counselor.”

“You're right. It's Murdock we need to worry about.”

Looking at each other solemnly, you and Foggy broke at the same time, cackling over the ridiculous notion.

“Of course I was serious, dude!“ Foggy kicked your shin lightly as you wiped a tear from your cheek. ”Did you really think I was just going to let you freeze to death? That Matt would allow that to happen?”

“No,” You murmured, tucking the toes of your sneakers behind the legs of your stool. “I guess not.”

Mouth squishing to one side with his skepticism, Foggy leaned closer to your hunched form. “In case I am not making myself clear, let me lay it out for you, jitterbug. Neither Matt nor I would ever object to you staying over if you wanted to, let alone needed to for your own safety. We care about you and we would never jeopardize a fellow Musketeer.”

Nodding bashfully, you linked your pinkies together, dropping them into your lap. “Ok. Thanks, Fog.”

“Anytime, bug. How much longer are you chained to this counter?” He frowned at the offending furniture with distaste, laying a palm over his stomach. “I'm getting hungry.”

Rolling your eyes, you glanced at the clock behind you. “About another hour. But you are more than welcome to venture out for a meal before that. Only one of us is contractually obligated to be here.”

“NO MAN LEFT BEHIND” Foggy declared, saluting you before turning back to his book diligently.

Biting your cheek to stifle a grin, you turned back to your own homework, grateful for the two men keeping you sane as your life crumbled into chaos.

Swallowing as your throat constricted with nerves, your knuckles hovered an inch away from the nicked wooden door. Your adrenaline-soaked subconscious was buzzing, telling every cell to enter “flight” mode, but your feet felt glued to the dingy carpet.

What are you so afraid of? You chastised yourself. It's just Fog and Matt. Not like you're about to have open heart surgery or something.

Tilting your entire body forward until your knuckles brushed the surface of the door, you'd barely made a sound before it opened, revealing a confused Matt and a beaming Foggy.

Greeting you simultaneously, Matt's perplexed tone didn't match his roommate's joyful one in the slightest. “Are you ok?”

Despite being evidently baffled, Matt ushered you into the room.

“Um, yes? Why…” Looking to Foggy questioningly, you watched as the long-haired boy grimaced apologetically. “Ah, I see someone did not fill you in on the situation.”

“I forgot!” Foggy smiled sheepishly.

Exhaling with a frustrated huff, you shifted from foot to foot as the ball of nervous energy fueling you tumbled around your body. “Um, my building has no heat for the rest of the week so Foggy said I could stay here? But if that's not ok with you–” You took a small pace backwards, giving you the option to completely eject from the situation, but Matt carefully reached for your arm.

His fingers brushed over your wrist, gently clasping around your arm. At his cautious touch, the air flew out of your lungs, your eyes widening as they focused on his face. Lips turned down ever so slightly, his brow was furrowed with his classic Matt Murdock concern. Whether you'd given yourself a papercut or received news of your mother's recurrence, Matt's worry and desire to fix whatever he could was etched deeply in his expression.

“Of course that's ok, sweetheart. The heat's out again? Did they say they were going to replace the baseboards?” As he asked his follow-up questions, his free hand came up to cup your other elbow, until he was practically cradling you in his arms.

Sighing, you didn't fight him as his grip tightened, morphing into a full body embrace. Hands spread over your back, Matt's chin landed over your head like it belonged there. Anxiety fading, you shrugged against him with a bitter laugh. “Sure, but they say that every time.”

Planting a kiss against your hairline, and coincidentally reigniting the swarm of murderous butterflies in your stomach, Matt withdrew his arms and stepped aside to wave you into the room. His mouth was still curved into a frown, the wheels in his head clearly turning as you set down your backpack and hopped onto Foggy's mattress.

“Thank god you're here, bug. I desperately need someone to read through my legal writing assignment. She only drops the two lowest and I need a decent grade in this class.” Foggy rummaged through his bag, yanking out a few pages filled with illegible handwriting and margin doodles, dropping them in your lap.

With a giggle, you made a show of copying Foggy's movements, dropping the assignment back into his possession. “Yah, sorry bud but you're going to need to read that to me if you want my help.”

“Oh come on, my handwriting isn't THAT bad.” Foggy protested, squinting at the essay.

“It might not be the worst print in the world, but I'm not a grade school teacher. I'm not practiced at–” You explained, smiling innocently as Foggy grew more affronted by the accusation.

“Woah, woah, woah, GRADE school–”

“Ok, you're right, 7th grade maybe?” You shrugged, laughing as the blond shoved you in response. The two of you were grinning at each other when Matt's question burst out of him.

“Have you complained to the board of health? Or the HPD?”

Meeting Foggy's gaze, you both blinked owlishly before turning to face Matt. The dark-haired boy was staring blankly at the pair of you, his face flitting between dark concern and pure fury.

“What?” You asked, eyes drawn to Matt's fists as they flexed at his sides.

“About the heat. It's..it's not safe for your landlord to be leaving his tenants without heat. Not when it's this cold.”

“Matt, buddy,” Foggy interrupted placatingly, throwing an arm around your shoulders. ”That's why she's here, remember? Problem solved.“

“Until it goes out again next month.” Matt growled.

Squeezing Foggy's leg, you shot him a knowing look. “Matt, I'll call HPD tomorrow when they open. Promise. You can sit with me to listen, if you'd like.”

Pursing his lips, Matt considered the suggestion. With a weary exhale, he nodded, his fingers sliding out of their rigid curls. “Ok.”

“Right, well, now that we've settled that, let's listen to Foggy read his essay aloud—since neither of us will be able to look it over otherwise.”

Grumbling, Foggy flopped onto his stomach, resolutely ignoring your chuckles as he cleared his throat. “Prepare to be dazzled—”

As much as you wanted to help your friend out with his assignment, Foggy’s words flew into one ear and out the other, briefly tapping your brain like a small steel sphere on a pinball bumper. Once you'd seemingly put his mind at ease, Matt had joined the two of you on the opposite side of the room, Snuggling in close and sandwiching you between the pair of men.

On any other day, the position would be comforting. Your limbs cloaked with their combined body heat, their soothing voices overriding the anxious buzzing in your brain. Today, the invisible swarm of bees in your skull only became more enraged. You felt trapped, cornered by your friends and your own tattered feelings.

Matt's shoulder flanked yours, his body pressed in so tightly to you that the thin hairs on your cheeks and neck fluttered with his every exhale. A small vibration in your pocket pushed you over the edge. Had Everett finally responded to your apology? Was he still upset? How could you accept his forgiveness when you were practically sitting in Matt's lap?

Shifting your weight uncomfortably, you tried to keep yourself separate from Matt, digging your shoulder into the wall rather than leaning it against his chest. Another buzz from your pocket had you gritting your teeth. It was too much, it was all too much. Foggy was talking so loud and the temperature of this room was stifling and how on earth could he sleep in these sheets–they must have the thread count of a fast food napkin.

Choking in a breath, you dove off the bed. “It sounds great so far, bubs. I have to check my phone real quick, someone is calling me.” Nearly toppling over in your haste to escape the room, the door shook as it closed roughly against its frame. Shakily pulling your phone from your jeans, you opened it, trying to get your breathing under control. It was like you'd been shoved underwater with a dwindling oxygen tank–given the sudden atmospheric pressure and your inability to take a full breath.

One text was from your father, reminding you to pay the most recent medical bill. I'll get right on that. You rolled your eyes, deleting the message.

The other message was from Everett. Your body went rigid as you read his name, your finger inching towards the button that would open it up, revealing whatever he'd sent you. As the screen flashed, pixels shifting to spell out the five words he'd deemed important enough to send, your heart momentarily stopped.

Talk when I’m back.

Nothing else. No indication of how angry he was, what the talk would be about, if you would still be together in a week. Fuck.

Behind you, the door creaked open, a worried Foggy appearing from the shadows. ”Everything ok?“

”Yep!” You squeaked, snapping your phone shut with a force that made you grimace. “All good.”

Sending your friend a smile that you hoped looked more honest than it felt, you shuffled back into the room, sensing that the energy had changed. “Sorry, just Everett and my dad bothering me.”

In your absence, Matt had returned to his bed. His posture was gracefully straight, a book lying across his lap beneath his fingers. If his stance hadn't clued you into his mood, the lenses now propped on the bridge of his nose had. Something was up, but you weren't in any state to handle both of your emotions right now. Foggy gave a weak smile, hopping back onto his bed.

“Matt pointed out that you might not want to think about homework all night. I actually rented some movies on my way home! I was thinking we could watch one.”

“That sounds fun, Fog. Matt are you–”

“No.” His answer was curt, pitched low. He must've sensed your surprise because the edges of his expression immediately softened. “I have a headache. Don't want to spoil the fun.”

“I'm sorry! We probably aren't helping. Did you want us to go to the lounge?” You asked, fingers grasping for your bag in case you needed to switch locations.

“No need. I'll put my headphones on if I need to.” Matt's lips flickered with the barest hint of a smile before settling back into the neutral expression he'd originally had on.

“Let us know if you change your mind, buddy.” Foggy chirped, opening his laptop. “Ok, bug. Take your pick.”

With a wave of one hand, Foggy displayed three DVD cases as if they were a winning poker hand. “We've got: National Treasure, Happy Feet, and The Ring.”

“What an eclectic bunch.” You snorted. “Scary movie first, Nick Cage last. We'll scream, cry, and laugh in that order.”

“Genius. She's a genius!” Foggy remarked, cracking the first plastic sleeve open. “This girl is going places, Murdock.”

Matt smirked, but said nothing, his fingers still dancing over the raised dots on the pages.

Lying on his side, one ear turned out to the rest of the room, Matt's own skin prickled sympathetically as you rolled over on the grimy carpet–each plastic fiber screeching as it dragged across your skin. The sound made him cringe, far too similar to fingernails on a chalkboard.

It was late. You and Foggy had indeed made it through all three movies, only pausing to run to the bathroom and the corner market for more snacks. Matt couldn't help but feel like he was intruding, eavesdropping on a sweet moment between friends and existing where he wasn't welcome. While Foggy was glued to his computer screen, your attention was sporadic, heart rate spiking whenever he so much as shifted on his bed.

You were paying more mind to him than the entertainment you were pretending to enjoy. Which was irritatingly amusing given how little you'd wanted to do with him recently. Something deep inside him was crying out in warning, telling him just how close you were to slipping through his fingers and disappearing forever. But how could he steady his grip when every pump of his heart had you spooking like a prey animal.

The rustling of fabric from your body on the floor nettled at his conscience. Your breathing was shallow, your vocal chords emitting small aggravated groans that should've been imperceptible, if Matt was a lucky man. Inches away from his bed, you were writhing in discomfort, lying awake just as he was—unlike Foggy who was snoring away, dead to the world. That couldn't be helping your frustration, it sure wasn't doing him any favors.

The tiniest of sighs slipped through your lips, wafting the scent of salt into his space. Frowning in concern, he set aside the pity party he'd been throwing himself and swallowed his nerves.

“Can't sleep?” His voice was barely a whisper, but you startled anyway, shooting up into a seated position.

“Christ, Matt.” You chuckled feebly.

“Language.” He joked, lips curving as you laughed again.

“Forgive me, Saint Matthew. I was taken by surprise. Thought you might be that little girl from the ring coming to get me.”

“Is my voice that feminine?“ He wrinkled his nose, feeling a bubble of pride when your heartbeat began to slow, his distractions working for now.

“No, but when you're expecting a ghost, everything seems ghastly.” You shuddered.

A jumble of words sat at the tip of his tongue, an accusation he needed to make if he wanted to get any rest tonight. It was as though you were expecting it, aware you'd done something wrong. Awaiting your punishment without a word.

“You don't have to sleep on the floor, you know. My mattress won't bite.” Avoiding confrontation for as long as he could, he attempted for another quip. Unfortunately, you'd picked up on his barely concealed aggravation, if your flinch was any indication.

Huffing out a laugh, you craned your neck to face him. “I know, Matt. But I'm not going to put you out like that. You didn't even know I was coming.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about your heat?” He couldn't stop himself. He needed to know. He needed to understand why you were pushing him away.

“I mean, I only found out this afternoon–”

“I could’ve helped you report them.” He explained, still thoroughly confused.

“You still can!” Your muscles creaked as your arms tightened around your shins, instinctively defending yourself from his questioning.

“You just..showed up. And I had no idea what had happened.” His voice sounded hollow, even to him.

“I figured Fog would ask you, I'm sorry.” That was truthful, but it still didn't answer anything.

“So you're still avoiding me, then.” Your breath was cut short, fingers digging into your flesh. His own body was eerily still, trying to hold the immense guilt he'd been feeling back until the conversation was over. Until he knew what he'd done.

“Matt, I'm not—”

“No? Then why does it feel like you're trying to constantly escape me?” Snapping his mouth shut before his words revealed just how hurt he really was, he forced himself to take a deep breath.

“What are you—”

“When I hugged you earlier, you went all stiff. You’re clearly upset about something on your phone, but you refuse to tell me about it. And you keep calling me 'Matt'.” His throat constricted, fists clenching around his blankets.

“That's your name–” You reasoned desperately, but your heart gave you away. He wasn't crazy. It was deliberate.

“Not to you!” He hissed. Sitting up slowly, he dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to force the pain in his skull to subside. “You always..you used to call me Matty or trouble or bubs. Recently, I've just been Matt. I just..please tell me what I did so I can fix it?”

“Matt,” You sounded mournful. Defensive stance abandoned, you crept closer to his bed, falling into a sloppy heap beside him, still on the floor. “Trouble, you didn't do anything. I've been jumpy and in my head recently because of my own shit, not because of you.”

The steady thump of your pulse echoed in his ears. It didn't waver. Not once.

Blinking rapidly, Matt shoved his hands against his face again, this time to rub away the tears forming before you could see them.

Reaching one hand up, you brushed a knuckle against his rightmost calf. “I'm so sorry that I hurt you. It was not intentional. I care about you so much and I...” You trailed off, drawing in a ragged breath before speaking again. “I care about you. I always will.”

“I care about you too.” Tangling your hand with his, Matt ducked his head, feeling incredibly exposed. “You scared me.”

“I'm sorry.” There it was again. The consistent beat of your heart. Even as the patter of rain. He squeezed your fingers.

“I know.” Trailing a thumb over the back of your hand, he felt another icy current of fear in his veins. “And I’m serious about reporting your building. We can always host you but what if you get snowed in or something? If you’re stuck there with no heat..I don’t want that to happen to you, bug. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”

Grabbing his bed frame with your free hand, you hauled yourself up and onto his mattress, collapsing into his open arms. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. I've already forgiven you. But I just needed you to know that it matters. That you matter.”

“Fuck, trouble. You're gonna make me cry harder than that stupid bird movie.” You laughed, the puffs of air tickling his neck as they left your lungs.

“That one did seem especially sad.” He hummed.

“Don't know why they had to rip my fuckin' heart out. Seems a little unnecessary.” You scoffed, body slowly melting against him as he rubbed circles over your back.

“Definitely unnecessary.” He agreed, loosening his grip on you. “You should get some sleep before classes tomorrow.”

He started to unwind from you, intending to take your place on the floor, but you caught his waist with your arms, tipping you both onto the mattress. “If I'm not sleeping on the floor, neither are you, bubba.”

With a single hand, you grabbed the spare blanket off the floor, moving away from him as you bundled yourself up, a happy exhale tumbling out of you as you relaxed into the cocoon. Though you seemed to have worked through whatever mental block had existed before, Matt wasn't quite convinced.

“Are you sure? I don't want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You wouldn't.” Was your sleepy response. “Besides, if that little bitch crawls out of Foggy's computer screen, she can take you first.”

A startled laugh escaped him and he shook his head. “Sure she can, bug. Sleep well.”

“You too, Matty.”

Taglist: @eugene-emt-roe @abbyhaslongshorts @mrs-bellingham @abucketofweird @yeonalie @spider-murdock @0ctober-writes @danzer8705 @supervoldejaygent @dorothleah @zomtart @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @silas-aeiou @rev-glut @screechingphantommaker @spiderstyles04 @paradox-brody-chase @blue-devil-of-the-lord @pigeonmama @yarrystyleeza @cometenthusiast @harleycao

56 notes · View notes

roseykat · 11 months ago

Text

TITLE: Play Night

SUMMARY: Things between Jisung and Hyunjin are heating up, and leading towards their group trip to Jeju, Jisung needs to clear a few things up with Chan; about you and him and the current secret bet in place that he unintentionally started.

TAGS: smut, handjobs, orgasms, kissing, making out, hickies, soft/fluff/slice of life moments, swearing, slight confrontation (nothing toxic), use of alcohol (Hyunjin is slightly drunk but what takes place after is consensual), some Harry Potter spoilers/references (sorry if you haven't watched HP)?

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won’t be able to regulate/monitor every potential interaction with those posts so please do not engage with me, my work, or page whatsoever.

MASTERLIST - PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

🏷️LIST: @chillichillicrabcrab23 @broken-glowsticks @ihatemen55 @boi-bi-ahaha @galamxy @weareapackofstrays @anglerfishiey @elizalabs3 @princejisung @fr34k4c1dr41n @stayconnecteed @imnotjjini0325 @twinklix @meilix @dawn-iscozy @valibals @oiikaro @im-sinking-in-mud @aalexyuuuhm @baby-yongbok @1dk-anym0r3 @wealwayskeepfighting @flowersun @huening-kawaii @newhope8 @leftkittenface @20minsat180degrees @itsthatbri 🩷

“Oh, now this - what about this one?”

Hyunjin hears Jisung’s voice from the aisle beside him where all the cold drinks are located. He himself had been scanning vigorously among the shelves for his favourite brand of ramen, only to come up short. They had been to four convenience stores prior and not one had what he was looking for. It landed them a trip further away than they had expected, but neither of them complained about wandering around far from where they were supposed to be.

After he straightens up and peeks his head over the snacks to see what Jisung was talking about, he shakes his head solemnly.

“No. No, that one's grape flavoured and it tastes like children’s medicine,” he says to him.

Jisung looks down at the purple can in his possession, “that’s oddly specific - oh, then what about orange-“

“Same thing.”

Jisung huffs and gives up, placing the can back where he found it in a disgruntled fashion, “you’re an easy man to please you know, but the minute it comes to food you’re so picky.”

Hyunjin strolls around to meet Jisung on the other side after filling his basket with snacks that had caught his eye and wanted to eat during their movie night, “drinks aren’t food.”

“Then what’s soup? A drink or a food?” He fires back.

“Not this again,” Hyunjin rolls his eyes and closes the fridge for Jisung who follows behind closely.

They’ve been debating about this for a while now which started off as a very contentious pillow talk topic that now crops up frequently. Of course, they wouldn’t be themselves if they didn’t have opposing opinions. Jisung, who thinks that soup is absolutely a drink, has been pushing that agenda ever since the night he tried to cook French onion soup to impress Hyunjin.

Only, it wasn’t that impressive, and was rather just a slurry of tasteless onion water and zero seasoning. In order to not upset his friend for trying his hardest, Hyunjin did his best to stomach the interesting creation and honestly hoped that he never tried again.

“It’s an important question!” Jisung begins to protest, ready with an army of rebuttals and arguments.

“Soup is a liquid food. That doesn’t mean to say it’s a drink, because you can eat soup. Plus, some soups have chunks of food in it too.”

“That’s just vegetable water or meat water.”

“Meat water,” Hyunjin repeats in a disgusted tone. “So you’re also saying that plain water is soup too?”

“Well, if you heat it up-“

“Okay,” Hyunjin interrupts as he dumps all their items onto the counter and takes out his wallet to pay. “Stop talking.”

“Make me,” he mouths and teases quietly so that the cashier couldn’t hear him. “If you stuff my mouth with something big then it might get me to stop talking.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes, again.

Nearly every waking moment that he’s around Jisung, there’s always a guarantee that he’ll make Hyunjin’s eyes roll; whether it’s because of some weird shit that comes out of his mouth, or whether it’s giving him an orgasm. Whatever the reason, Hyunjin pretends to ignore him as he collects his goods, then heads out with his best friend at his side.

The entire commute back to his apartment, Jisung kept talking. On and on, and on about an assortment of subjects that Hyunjin had no interest in. At least not now. Not when all he wanted to do was go home, not speak, and just laze around with Jisung like he has been for the past few weeks. That thought seems to trigger a very sobering realisation that dawns on him as they ride the train back to his place.

As Hyunjin looks at the side of Jisung’s face who’s been rambling on about his opinion on the best types of pasta, he realises that they’ve been hooking up for the past few weeks. They kiss, make out, do other things, but not once have they had sex. Yet. They haven’t even talked about it, and yet, a part of Hyunjin had to wonder; was there any point in even talking let alone thinking about it if whatever is going on between them, isn’t going to last?

His eyebrows knit together. He doesn’t want to think about that. Hyunjin doesn’t know whatever feelings Jisung has right now, but the one thing he knows is that he likes the sense of comfort that hanging around him brings. What if he asks and disrupts what they have? What if he asks and ruins Jisung’s thoughts on him?

As those questions infiltrate his psyche, his head lowers and comes to rest on Jisung’s shoulder, eyelids closing softly, “wake me up when we get to our stop please.”

Jisung’s big brown eyes turn into the size of plates, a little bit taken aback that Hyunjin, a person who isn’t that huge on public displays of affection, is resting on him right now. Not to mention the privileged feeling that inflates Jisung whenever a person rests their head on his shoulder, which is very rare. It’s like some physical way of saying that Hyunjin trusts him, or feels comfortable around him at the very least.

He scans up and down the cart where no members of the public come into his view. Grateful for their absence, Jisung feels safe by reciprocating the same affections. So he places his hand on Hyunjin’s upper thigh, and he too rests his head against his friends’.

For the next five minutes, Jisung and Hyunjin would ride the train back to his place in peace. Neither of them spoke a word until they reached their stop. The pair of them hop up, Hyunjin stands and stretches his long limbs as he and his friend head inside the apartment complex.

Once they return to his place, Hyunjin prepares all the snacks for them on his coffee table, while Jisung gets the movie ready that they - he - wanted to watch.

“Harry Potter? Again?” Hyunjin groans, taking the plastic wrap off of the kimbap to share and setting it down on the surface once they’ve both sunken down onto the couch.

“What do you mean ‘again’?” Jisung shoots him a dirty look. He’s always been pretty serious about his Harry Potter, having watched the movies over a thousand times and read the books back to back. “This is the next part of the series, thank you.”

Hyunjin sighs and makes himself comfortable. He then heads to his fridge to grab a couple of bottles of soju and some shot glasses. Back at the convenience store, he meant to buy something non alcoholic, had he not been so picky about the flavours Jisung presented to him he wouldn’t be deciding on whether he should have alcohol or not. In saying that, it was nice to have a drink.

He strolls back to the coffee table with their final items and places them all down.

"Oh, yum," Jisung gasps and reaches for the bottle, unscrews the cap and starts pouring the clear liquid into both shot glasses already.

Hyunjin stares at him as he downs the alcohol in one smooth go, "alright then..."

Jisung holds up the other shot glass for Hyunjin, "your turn."

He takes it in hand, careful not to spill it on the rug beneath him - then again, it's seen a lot more messier liquids on it than alcohol.

"Yuck," Hyunjin retches after swallowing half of the contents in the glass.

"Come on, you know you like it," Jisung nudges him. "You know the saying; if you can handle cum, you can handle alcohol."

Hyunjin nearly sprays out the rest of the alcohol from his mouth as a muddle of amusement, concern, and curiosity wakes him up more than the semi-burn of the drink does, "and who said that exactly?"

"Me," he answers. "Hence why I can take both so well."

Like some of the time, Jisung wasn't wrong and summed it up with another shot before he picked up the remote to play the movie. He settles back comfortably while Hyunjin takes another shot of the soju.

He makes it through the first twenty minutes of the film, then reaches the part where Harry Potter suddenly gets selected for the Triwizard Tournament. By that point, Hyunjin was sure the alcohol had fully trickled into his bloodstream when he wasn't able to tell the difference between Mad Eye Moody and Hagrid.

Frames started to blend together and yet, he thought it was still a good idea to continue drinking to see if that would help. However, most good idea turn to bad ones. The alcohol began to play absolutely no part in trying to help him make sense of the plot and made him focus on other things rather than the movie.

It was safe to say that he grew steadily bored when it came to watching it. At the same time, he didn't have the heart in him to express his opinion to the person beside him who was so wrapped up in the universe on screen. Jisung's eyes were completely glued to the digital motions before him whereas Hyunjin's eyes were glued to him.

Boredom strikes him bad when he feels the need to lean over and make his long body comfortable on Jisung. Hyunjin's upper torso stretches over his friend's lap who doesn't pay too much mind to it. Jisung even hangs his arms over Hyunjin's abdomen while he watches the film contently.

It's not the type of physical contact he wants right now.

"Jisungie," he mutters into the couch.

"Hmm?"

"Can we do something else?" Hyunjin pleads rather than asks.

He never gets a response. The lounge continues to be filled with dialogue - something along the lines of Ron Weasly now having a go at Harry for being inducted into the tournament and not telling him. Hyunjin's had enough of it and for whatever reason he feels like, he slides off of Jisung's lap. Half of his body slumps onto the ground while the other half remains somewhat on the couch.

"What are you doing?" he snorts, grabbing onto Hyunjin's hands and trying to hoist him back up.

He awkwardly anchors his legs around Jisung's body in an effort to help pull himself up as well but ends up knocking his head on the edge of the coffee table. With a delayed reaction, Hyunjin winces and then laughs as he tries to rub his own head even while Jisung is still trying to save him from falling off completely.

"Here just - just stop moving so I can help," he leans back and uses all his arm strength to move what is practically dead weight to him.

Hyunjin puts in zero effort to help and instead becomes a giggling mess the second he's actually able to get back into Jisung's lap. When he does, his long limp limbs wrap themselves around the man beneath him. He hides his face in the crook of his neck, the sudden whiff of Jisung's skin almost makes him dizzy, making his mood do a complete one eighty degree turn.

It creates immense difficulty in trying to swallow the urge to plant a kiss over the soft area, earning a very quiet yet distinct hum from Jisung. Hyunjin repeats the same action, longer this time and in different spots that his tongue can swipe over. The grip Hyunjin barely knew was there on his hips, twitched in place. As if Jisung's nails are trying to dig into Hyunjin's flesh had he not worn clothes.

"Hey," Jisung alerts him. “Can’t watch the movie if all you’re trying to do is get on my dick- ah…”

Hyunjin’s mouth shuts his right up from one sharp suck into his skin. His tongue flattens over the fresh red plum mark. The sight of it alone makes Hyunjin want to decorate them over every inch of Jisung’s body, similar to the style of how he would paint a canvas - which he does. Over as much skin as Jisung lets him when he moves his head to allow Hyunjin to cover more skin.

“Y-You’ll…you’ll get me hard,” he warns, now unable to concentrate on the film.

Hyunjin pulls away from his neck, giving him a rest from the myriad of hickies he’ll have to worry about later, and looks him down in the eye, “that’s sort of the point.”

Their mouths draw together like magnets, like they’ve been doing for weeks. Every day they find their lips on the others or some body party of theirs. Jisung gets to relish and dawn in the softness of Hyunjin’s lips, letting him slip past further to explore his mouth. His needs not only start to show through in his pants, but in his breathing and frantic pace of trying to feel Jisung that he almost can’t keep up with him.

So he decides that he needs to contain him a bit, bring him down a few notches to reminds him that he’s not in charge - at least for now.

With that, Jisung wraps his hand right around Hyunjin’s waist and manoeuvres him onto his back. The abrupt shift in control makes him act up almost instantly. Hyunjin is grabbing at Jisung’s shirt trying pull his body back down to his, but his muscles are weak and tired from drinking that it makes it too easy for Jisung to straddle his hips and pin his hands to the side of his head.

“Look what you’ve done to yourself,” he tells Hyunjin right in his ear while he rolls his ass down over the dick that's hardening underneath him. "Gonna be fucking begging when I'm through with you."

At that point, the pair had gone beyond the fact of not completing a full movie night. With the way that Jisung continues to pin Hyunjin back and exchange the manifold of hickies across the planes of his throat and neck. If anyone walked into the apartment, they would’ve thought vampires truly existed with the way Jisung’s mouth was latched onto his best friend’s skin.

“T-The movie,” Hyunjin stammers hopelessly with his words. “Jisung…the movie…”

Jisung lets out a sinister chuckle as he pushes himself back up to take off his shirt and tosses it somewhere around the lounge, "fuck the movie. You started this. This is what you wanted, isn't it? To rile me up and now you've gone all shy on me."

Hyunjin doesn't listen. His first instinct is to reach out and grab Jisung’s waist, to caress his hand freely for a few moments before gliding down and grasping the flesh over his hips. The slight sting in it makes him buck his hips forward and over Hyunjin’s clothed cock, making him groan lowly. He could cum easily like this - so easily and has done.

Every position they get into to practically dry hump each other, he always imagines that this is what it would be like if Jisung was riding his throbbing cock. To cum inside him and watch his face contorts the way that it does whenever Hyunjin makes him orgasm.

That thought sparks a wire in his brain, causing him to suddenly jerk his hips up and into Jisung. He smirks down at him, soaking up the state of the man beneath him. The hickies, red and wet kissable lips, dozy eyes that slowly blink up at him…

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” Jisung mutters in exasperation like he's never seen Hyunjin's body before. “Just wanna f-”

Blaring on the coffee table next to all of the opened snacks was Jisung’s phone, he quickly bends over to the side to reach for it in urgency while still trying to straddle. Hyunjin twists his body carefully with Jisung still on top, picking the remote off the floor that had fallen after being pinned back. He pauses the movie for a moment to let Jisung answer his call.

A small weight sinks in his stomach as he speaks in shock, “it’s Chan."

"M-Maybe you should answer it," Hyunjin tries his best to talk over the exponential rate of how much he is turned on right now.

“Hello?” He answers.

“Jisung! Do you not answer your texts? I sent about six just before!”

He pulls his phone away from his ear and checks his notifications. His friend was right, Jisung had in fact missed his messages. But not on purpose of course. If he hadn't been so busy provoking Hyunjin whose hands started sliding up Jisung’s thighs, dangerously close to his tented crotch, he would've seen the texts.

Hyunjin's fingertips delicately trace over where Jisung's cock begins to harden. His eyebrows furrow immediately as Chan continues speaking on the other end of the line about how he’s still surprised that Jisung didn’t answer him right away.

“You’re always on your phone, I thought you might’ve been quick to respond,” says Chan.

“Oh, yeah not this time,” he responds truthfully, to some degree. “I’ve been watching Harry Potter all evening and-“

The words ready to leave Jisung's mouth die before they make it out as Hyunjin mischievously, and very clearly, starts to palm Jisung’s hard length over his pants. It didn’t take him that long to start leaking from his tip, creating a very visible dark patch over his shorts.

“…and-“

Hyunjin then reaches into the slot of the material, past his boxers and frees his cock. For a few moments, he takes away his hand just to admire how Jisung looks right now. The fact that he tried to finish what Hyunjin started, only to have the tables turned on him again. He flushes with embarrassment at the fact that without Hyunjin’s grasp around his length, his dick was able to stand tall on its own; so needy and desperate for touch.

“And what?” Chan’s voice suddenly startles him out of his situation.

“And I just lost track of time, that’s all,” Jisung continues as calmly as he can.

“No worries. I haven’t watched Harry Potter in years. I think the last might’ve been Prisoner of Azkaban? No, Goblet of Fire? It was the one where…”

Chan’s voice drifts out of Jisung’s mind despite the fact that he’s right in his ear on the other line. His face contorts at the sudden pleasure he receives as Hyunjin takes hold of his neglected cock once more. His eyes dart sharply down to his own length and the large hand which begins to slowly tug.

“…he gets chosen for the tournament when he really didn’t put his name into the cup…”

Jisung brings a shaky hand to his mouth, covering it immediately so as to mask and muffle something that could end up as a future regret. Hyunjin knows all too well what sort of sounds can come out of that mouth of his too, for it has reverberated around the walls of his apartment, stifled into his pillows, caught in the back of his throat which usually serves as a path for Hyunjin’s cum these days.

He’s heard it all before.

For Jisung to keep a lid on all of those possibilities is a smart move, especially if they want to uphold the secrecy of their situation.

“…and I’m pretty sure it’s the one where Cedric dies.”

“Y-Yeah,” he responds shakily. “That’s the one we - I’m watching at the moment.”

“Maybe I should rewatch the first two,” Chan suggests to himself. “It’s the only series I can actually watch and understand without it being too complicated. I tried watching Lord of the Rings before but it’s too…”

Once more, Chan’s voice becomes a distant sound as Jisung tries to stop himself from bucking his hips into Hyunjin’s hand. But it’s not possible. He can’t just ignore the fact that he’s been horny since Hyunjin made him all hot and bothered, and now he’s built up to maximum capacity where his body craves release.

“So what time suits you?” Chan asks randomly.

“Time for what?” Jisung responds back in confusion, his mind blending together like mush when Hyunjin has gotten into a steady pace.”

“To hang out tomorrow!”

“Oh, right! Ah - um, lunchtime? Twelve…” He suggests, his hips still rutting.

“Alright sounds good. I’ll see you there okay?” Chan asks.

“I’m cumming - I mean, I-I’ll come! I’ll be coming - going there,” Jisung stammers terribly with his words. “F-Fuck sorry, just…I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Chan laughs on the other end of the line, “see you then.”

Jisung has never hung up faster, the phone toppling out of his possession as he rocks his hips into Hyunjin’s grasp. It also gave him the ability to rut his ass against Hyunjin’s hard length below him. Then within a split second, the lid that Jisung was trying so hard to contain over what his body needed to do, came off.

“Fuck, gonna cum, m’cumming!” He cries out.

Hyunjin grins, and does not dare let up on his hand twisting and gliding on the length currently in his power, “I heard you the first time. How humiliating would that have been for you if Chan realised you were getting a handjob. Too bad he can't hear you whining so pathetically-“

Air hitches in Jisung’s throat, and for a few seconds too long Hyunjin looks into his eyes and sees tears welling up. A terrible, cold sinking feeling expands in his stomach, making him realise that he just said something awful to Jisung.

“W-Wait, I’m sorry, I didn’t-

It was too late. Loud moans rupture violently through Jisung’s chest - ones that Hyunjin knows his neighbours are familiar with by now because by no means is Han Jisung quiet. He will let Hyunjin know how he’s making his body feel now explodes from immense pressure.

His rutting against Hyunjin’s cock becomes staggered as a result of trying to chase his orgasm. Jisung clutches onto Hyunjin’s shirt, the fabric balling up tightly along with his fist. He can’t stop, he doesn’t want to stop, until eventually that buildup releases erratically in flows of white that spill over his tip and dribble down Hyunjin’s hand. Jisung had never cum that hard from a handjob before.

He finishes gasping for air when he starts coming down, slowly rocking his ass over Hyunjin’s crotch to ease himself off the euphoria. Beneath him is a different story.

Hyunjin was mortified for making him cry, so shocked that he was frozen and couldn’t take his hand off of Jisung’s dick. But that didn’t matter. Jisung had the intention of finishing what he started, to feel so good that all his problems melted away.

Hyunjin sits up immediately, so close to Jisung’s face as he needs to check in with his friend, “are you okay? I’m so, so sorry, I don’t even know why I said that. It just...it just came out of my mouth.”

He wipes his eyes after a couple of tears fell down his face in the process of dry riding Hyunjin. Part of what just happened makes him laugh breathily and nods, “yeah. I’m okay.”

“Jisung, I’m really, really sorry,” he quickly says and means it, trying to look him in the eye.

“No, oh my god don’t be sorry,” he assures him. “I’m fine, seriously.”

“Then…then why are you crying?” Hyunjin asks the million dollar question, still acting out of horror.

He gives a lazy shrug, “I dunno how to explain it properly, but I like that kind of talk. It just…yeah. I’m not too sure. I suppose I teared up because I haven't actually cum that hard before.”

“I…didn’t know you were into…that,” Hyunjin doesn’t know how to reply to that type of statement, now that he just found out his friend likes being humiliated. Out of all things Jisung would be into, it had to be that.

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know,” he replies, leaning over to the coffee table just a bit to pick up the box of tissues to clean Hyunjin’s hand.

“W-What did Chan want?” He asks even though he doesn't want to stray away from the topic to make sure his friend is still okay.

Jisung slides off of his body and in between his legs rather awkwardly. From this stance, it’s easy to see the large tent in Hyunjin’s pants that he was grinding on as he made himself comfortable. He smooths the palm of his hand over Hyunjin's hard length and slowly back down. In doing so forces a couple of strained sighs out of his mouth.

“Wants to hang out tomorrow,” he answers, reaching into Hyunjin’s shorts to feel his hard cock. The same cock that keeps him coming back, that makes him feel heated and irrational.

In Jisung’s opinion, anyone would be lucky to have someone like his friend in front of him. Even though they haven’t had sex, he knows how Hyunjin fucks, having seen the way he made you cum weeks ago - it only makes Jisung wonder what it would be like to actually cum around Hyunjin’s cock.

It’s what he wants, needs in fact whenever they’re together.

Hyunjin bites his lip and throws his head down onto the couch, “y-you going to?”

“Course I am,” Jisung replies, thumbing over the dark pink tip that leaks clear glossy precum. “Need to ask him about Y/N and what the situation is there.”

A dreadful ball of weight pummels Hyunjin from behind when he hears your name in the same sentence as ‘Chan’. Not to mention, as Jisung said, your ‘situation’ with him currently which Hyunjin doesn’t want to process. He likes being oblivious to the fact that Chan is sleeping with you. That he gets to fill you up, that he just gets to see you. Whether Jisung was telling the truth or not about you and him sleeping together, he acts as if you’re not to save himself from the reality of it.

“D-Do you really need to?” Hyunjin asks hesitantly, fumbling terribly with his words as Jisung lowers his head down and licks one long stripe from the base of Hyunjin’s cock, right to his dark pink tip.

“Yes,” he confirms, but doesn’t truly tell him why for reasons far too similar to his friend here.

After giving his answer, Jisung sinks his mouth onto Hyunjin’s cock, just half of it to tease him. Bobbing his head a couple of times causes Hyunjin’s to grab the side of the couch while the other flies to land on top of Jisung’s head.

“What if…if he doesn’t say anything?” He questions breathlessly.

Jisung pops back up, and leans over Hyunjin’s abdomen to ask him in his face, his question bears some perspective to the situation, “do you want me to blow you, or not?”

Hyunjin uses the hand that’s not ready to brace his body by the side of the couch and tucks a long lock of Jisung’s dark brown hair behind his ear, “yes.”

“Then please shut your mouth and let me,” he demands.

It wasn’t hard for Hyunjin’s eyelids to shut and squeeze together. Receiving a blowjob from Jisung always feels like he’s had his soul sucked out of him; he doesn’t know where he learned it, but isn’t complaining either because it put Hyunjin to sleep ten minutes after they cleaned themselves up. By the time he and Jisung crawled into bed together, he had forgotten having the conversation with Jisung about you and Chan. Yet, only to be reminded of it the following day when Jisung woke up at half past eleven in the morning.

He was scheduled to meet Chan at one of his favourite lunch spots nearby and was in no mood to meet him. Being the morning person he is not, Jisung found himself struggling immensely to get out of bed and Hyunjin’s long arms that were encasing him.

Although he didn’t feel like leaving, he thought it would be best to just go as it had been a while since he saw Chan last. More importantly, he needed to confront him about what’s going on. Mainly for his own piece of mind.

He remembers something in his stomach sinking when he read that text on your phone. Despite the intense shock he felt when he discovered that you and Chan were hooking up, he wasn’t able to diverge from his own feelings. Something which he struggles to get across and might depending on the outcome of the lunch with one of the people in question.

Jisung steps out of the shower with a towel around his waist as he goes to sit on the end of the bed to open some of the drawers to his dresser. He pulls out a cream coloured jersey, some underwear, and a pair of sweatpants.

The fact that he needs to borrow so many articles of clothing is just another potent reminder that he should be packing and taking an overnight bag whenever he goes to hang out with Hyunjin. Nine times out of ten, Jisung will always say he’s only coming over for the afternoon then ends up staying for more than one day at a time.

The sheets ruffle beneath Hyunjin’s body as he stirs himself awake. He sits up, bed head on full view and eyes barely open, “what are you doing?”

“Borrowing some clothes,” Jisung answers trying to ignore how hot his morning voice sounds. “I’ll bring you back some food to compensate.”

“You said that last time,” he grumbles sleepily. “I’m also down four of my favourite jerseys because of you.”

Jisung throws on the material over his top half before crawling his way on the mattress to Hyunjin. He kisses him unexpectedly yet expectedly on the lips.

“Just go back to sleep,” he whispers. “I’ll see you after.”

With his confirmation, Hyunjin’s top half flops back against the mattress before Jisung pulls the white duvet back over his body, tucking him in. He had no trouble falling back asleep when Jisung lightly brushes some strands of his hair out of his face. However, without the distraction of him touching Hyunjin, Jisung couldn’t help but feel nervous.

He already knew that you and Chan were sleeping together. That text long affirmed that. Yet for how long and what for remained to be a sickening twist of fearful questions lugging Jisung’s stomach down. He didn’t really want to hear the answers from Chan if he can even stomach that conversation. He didn’t want to hear ‘yes we’ve been fucking’ or the ‘yeah, it’s true’ answers.

In saying that, Jisung has a trait of bottomless curiosity. That itch to find out for his own personal gain was going to make or break him. At that, he dons on the matching coloured sweats, grabs his phone and wallet, and then heads out of Hyunjin’s apartment.

After a train ride away, it doesn’t take long for Jisung to arrive, and apparently not for Chan either, who was already seated, waiting for his friend. An assortment of dishes had already been brought to the table, making Jisung realise how hungry he was since breakfast was no longer.

“How the fuck did you get here so fast, you live on the other side of the city,” Jisung exclaims to him from behind as he approaches.

“Hey. I couldn’t wait any longer because I was hungry,” Chan complains in a whiny tone. “Came here earlier to order, so I couldn’t wait.”

“Good, that makes things easier because I didn’t know what I was going to get anyway,” he replies and sits down in the booth opposite Chan. He hasn't changed much. Then again, it hasn't been too long since he's seen him last. “Been busy?”

He shakes his head, “you have no idea.”

“Thought you might’ve been,” Jisung responds, eyeing him intently to see if he gives off even the subtlest signs of a lie. “Haven’t seen you in almost a month, what’ve you been up to?”

Chan shrugs, “work and tutoring some of these students at the University.”

Jisung gives a firm nod, believing him and understanding how tiresome that must be to help teach students. It’s not until he pauses and realises that Uni semesters haven’t started yet. Even summer semester students are on break. He could’ve called him out on his bullshit now to see what answers he would get, but for the sake of wanting to find out other information, he keeps that to himself.

“Shit, sounds tough,” Jisung sympathises with him, or at least tries to if he was lying.

“How ‘bout you?”

“Same old. Working - you’re still coming to Jeju right?” He asks on a different subject.

“Yeah, of course. I took leave for it,” Chan answers as a puzzled look then befalls on his face. For a moment, his eyes narrow at Jisung, or rather his chest, trying to decipher what’s wrong with the picture he’s currently seeing.

“What?” He asks, trying to follow his gaze.

“You and Hyunjin have the same jersey,” Chan points out, realising what the flaw was.

“Oh, I know, that loser keeps copying everything I wear,” Jisung quickly plays it cool because unbeknownst to Chan, it is in fact Hyunjin’s jersey.

“Why are you wearing a scarf by the way?” Jisung tries to direct the attention away from himself

He hadn’t noticed the black item wrapped warmly around Chan’s neck until he began to panic whilst digging up something else to switch topics. The heat Jisung feels like he’s already being dragged under was starting to make him feel uneasy.

“The same reason you’re wearing a jersey on a thirty degree day,” Chan fires back just as fast but more nonchalantly to just about make Jisung sweat.

It forces him to wonder what on earth this reason is that his friend is talking about, and why he’s being so cryptic.

His face twists into confusion, mildly surprised when he realises Chan is trying to clock him for something that he doesn’t even know about or what for. Then again, it’s Chan. When is he not this observant?

“And what reason is that?” He responds with an accusatory tone.

Chan doesn’t answer, not directly. He only lifts his chin up slightly and points to his own throat, confusing the hell out of Jisung as to what he means. When it’s clear that the message can’t cross his mind, Chan rolls his eyes, and reaches into his pockets to take out his phone. He pulls up the selfie camera mode and hands it to Jisung to look at.

Apart from seeing his own reflection, he can see something else; a few splotches of dark, reddish marks littered all over his throat. At first he thought he had a rash, but wasn’t too sure what he was looking at. However, upon closer inspection, he moves the camera a bit closer to his throat and takes a photo on Chan’s phone to see it better.

After his quick analysis, Jisung knew instantly what they were. More importantly, who it came from. Hickies, and from none other than the only person he’s been messing around with, Hyunjin. Jisung didn’t even bother covering them up.

He hastily hands Chan’s phone back after deleting the photo, “so what?”

“Suppose you forgot you had them, judging by your reaction,” Chan guessed correctly, completely stumping Jisung who’s nearly lifting his own body off his seat as he tries to come up with an argument.

“Well…I suppose you didn’t know that I know you and Y/N are fucking which explains the scarf too but here we are!” He blurts out before he even has time to think about stopping the words from coming out of his mouth.

Chan’s hand stalls over the pot of stew while Jisung’s lips are pursed together. All the colour in his face has drained, almost making him feel lightheaded that he just said that out loud. In saying that, this is exactly the topic he wanted to discuss - you and Chan. He just wasn’t expecting the conversation to meander in such a way that nearly exposes himself and threw him way off the track of ever raising the subject.

“And what makes you think that?” Chan resumes ladling some of the hot stew into his bowl of rice.

Jisung knows that you can’t unring a bell so makes the split decision and decides to come clean, “I was using Y/N’s phone for something, and that’s where I saw a text message from you, hinting that you guys were sleeping together.”

“Ah,” Chan recalls immediately at the sudden confession. “From that little truth or dare game you, her and Hyunjin played?”

Jisung’s jaw unhinges, staring across the table towards his friend who seems to be a search engine for the topic of ‘everything Jisung has done lately.’ Nearly every minute that passes, Chan slaps him with a new fact that his friend wasn’t expecting him to know.

“You - but, how did- did Hyunjin-“

Chan’s already shaking his head before Jisung can muster a proper sentence, “Hyunjin never said a word. In fact he hasn’t been replying to my texts so I haven’t heard from him.”

“Then…then Y/N?”

“Well it couldn’t have been you or anyone else that was there.”

Jisung isn’t angry. He’s just shocked that he keeps getting one upped. Chan finding out that Jisung had a threesome with two of his best friends - one of them who he’s been fucking for some time now too - was far more of a juicy topic than just you and Chan seeing each other casually, which Jisung still doesn’t know the full details of.

“Said she had never cum like that in her entire life,” Chan adds, burying Jisung another meter or so deeper into this hole of new scandalous information.

His body freezes over. Suddenly, it’s not thirty degrees and everything feels cold. Jisung doesn’t ever really hear Chan talk about his sex life. Even when he was in a relationship with his ex, each of his friends tried to dissect as many details about it as they could. But they were never successful. That was a result of keeping things as private and low key as possible.

Nevertheless, Chan’s crude and very straightforward words had knocked Jisung right off his feet. The fact that you had told him what must’ve been very clear details of that night at Hyunjin’s was a sign that it still lingered on your brain. Part of his ego secretly swells with joy because of it.

“Then I felt like I needed to outdo you guys after that,” he adds.

“What do you mean?” Jisung questions with a tone of an impending doom that looms over him.

Chan smiles sweetly, memories stirring of that night in particular he had with you. It had to be one of the best times by far to him, “you know what I mean.”

Jisung’s skin stings with scorching hot jealousy; he knows exactly what Chan means. The fact of the matter is that he can’t believe he’s saying these types of things to him. Then again, there’s only one reason why Jisung would be so affected by it and he didn’t want to display that in front of Chan without figuring out what it means. But whatever it is that’s tugging at the organ beating hard and fast in his chest, makes him furious.

“Alright then,” he replies unfazed as he possibly could, swallowing the tough pill before realising there was one other thing he wanted to mention. “Suppose you guys are still seeing each other.”

Chan looks Jisung right in his eyes as he slowly retracts the spoon out of his mouth, “maybe.”

“So yes then.”

“What does it mean to you?” He tests him, almost sadistically.

“It means nothing to me,” Jisung answers rather bitterly and nastily, his entire aura switching up before he finds a new tether to lure the spotlight away from himself. “Just the fact that I told the others about you two, and they made a bet.”

Chan looks up, “a bet?”

“None of them believed me, so they made a bet to see whether you guys were or not even though I said so.”

If he didn’t have food in his mouth, Chan would’ve laughed, instead a disgruntled chuckle came out along with a couple of specs of his rice, “course they wouldn’t! Why would they believe that the two polar opposite people would be screwing behind everyone’s back?”

“You're not mad?” Jisung checks to be sure.

He shakes his head, “course not, dunno if Y/N won’t be though. She said she likes keeping things pretty private-“

“Clearly not if she told you she had a threesome,” Jisung cuts him off at that point.

“Well, there’s some exceptions to that,” Chan shrugs, finishing off his bowl of rice. “I don’t know if this means anything to you but, she wouldn’t shut up about sleeping with you and Hyunjin. She told me every single detail like for instance, when you and Hyunjin made out-“

The tongs fall out of Jisung’s tight grip and clatter onto the table. He brings his hands up to his eyes, covering his entire face to hide whatever embarrassing feelings that start to simmer on the surface. However, Chan didn’t seem to care and continued on with his points to prove.

“-how she liked it when you went down on her, how you watched Hyunjin fuck her - I told you what I meant about the details, right? Anyway,” he says. “She was raving about it. And yet, when she and I started seeing each other casually, she said that she didn’t want me to tell anyone else. That I needed to take what we have to the grave.”

Jisung removes his hands away from his face and looks down at his own food, unsure if he can stomach any more of it with the way the conversation has been handled. The more he talks and thinks about you, the more he feels like he’s being filled up with this bad gloomy feeling. He has to wonder if Chan is just being plain cruel to him by dumping all of his thoughts and information onto him.

He has to wonder, would it have been better to stay oblivious rather than being teased with snippets of what you’ve been saying to Chan these past few weeks. Hearing about how much you enjoyed yourself with him and Hyunjin yet haven’t directly spoken to them since that night.

“What are you saying?” Jisung questions, tired with the bullshit that’s starting to spike in their discussion.

“The fact that she wants to keep our…activities a secret from people and rather them not find out about us, yet is the first to speak highly of what you, her and Hyunjin did, means something more than you think.”

More than he thinks? Jisung can’t understand what that could’ve possibly meant. He sits there, bewildered and stumped. Unsure of what else to say.

“Right,” he responds.

Chan watches him warily, trying to gauge his behaviour as he decides to change the topic, “so, what’s on the table for this bet?”

Jisung quickly pries himself away from his messy mind and answers, “losers have to buy a days’ worth of food when we go to Jeju.”

Chan nods, impressed as he reaches for more meat on the grill and loads it into his bowl, “even less of a reason to be mad. Looks like I’ll be eating for free either way.”

"Yeah, looks like it."

The span of Jisung's vocabulary seemed to fail him. That and the fact that he didn't really want to talk anymore. Yes, it was good to see one of his best friends, but the circumstances that developed throughout their lengthy conversation made him wish he stayed in bed with Hyunjin just the extra bit longer so he would have to cancel lunch.

He managed to finish off small bowls of food to not make himself appear out of character. One whiff of anything remotely aberrant on Jisung's behalf, and Chan would hold him hostage in the restaurant until he tells him what's wrong. Despite that, Chan noticed something off anyway.

He saw the way Jisung's face fell when he confirmed that he was sleeping with you. He saw how his shoulders drooped and then picked up when he mentioned that you told him about the night at Hyunjin's. He saw how defensive and sceptical Jisung became whenever he would just simply mention you.

He saw that Jisung was hiding something.

When both friends had finished enjoying their meals, they were greeted with a downpour of rain that would have them seeking refuge under the veranda of the restaurant once they were outside. Just before they bid farewell to each other, Chan quickly turns to Jisung and calls out.

“It’s okay if you like her,” he says out of nowhere. “Y/N and I are not what you might think we are and we made it clear to each other that we never will be. There’s nothing between her and I, just so you know.”

Jisung stares at him, not showing any emotions on his face even though deep down, his brain and insides are whirring with emotions he can't even fathom, “I don’t like her like that.”

Chan laughs at him, unfazed with the sudden tension that seems to be slicing through them, “keep telling yourself that. See you next week.”

Through the deluge of rain and shadows from the dark, dense clouds above, Chan runs off in the opposite direction to where he needs to head home. Jisung stands there defeated and shocked that Chan is onto his tail that he likes you. He knew that heading into meeting up with him meant that the truth was going to come out one way or the other. Suppose it was just not on his terms.

It stirs many thoughts as he throws his hood up and ducks out into the rain to head to the train station and back to the safety of Hyunjin.

When he returns, Jisung keys in the passcode to unlock the door to the apartment, and is smothered with a waft of a sweet decadent scent. Standing in the kitchen, Hyunjin was at the stove flipping over what looked to be pancakes which suddenly reminded Jisung-

“Fuck, oh my god. The food, I forgot to even order it,” Jisung groans when he closes the door behind him.

Hyunjin turns the element dial on low and spins around to lean on the counter, away from the stove tops, "it's okay. I felt like something sweet anyway."

Jisung sighs. It felt right to be back with Hyunjin once more even though he had only been out for a couple of hours. In saying that, his conversation with Chan was good but draining. It’s not that he doesn’t like him for telling him the truth, there’s absolutely no doubt about that. Chan is and will always be his friend.

There is no emotional connection between you and him and that’s all that matters to Jisung. However, it’s just the truth in itself that he has an issue with - you hooking up with Chan every now and then that is. It makes him feel uneasy and almost makes him feel like he’s doing something immoral by just sitting back and watching it happen.

The reality stings where he doesn’t like it so pushes himself from the edge of the bench and walks into Hyunjin’s body to retreat from his thoughts. Slightly taken aback but not oblivious to the strange display of emotions Jisung is presenting, Hyunjin sets the spatula down beside him and hugs his friend back.

“You okay?” He questions, concern dripping all over his face.

Jisung nods his head on his chest, “yeah. Just socialising, now I’m tired.”

It wasn’t a lie, but not the truth either. Regardless, Hyunjin takes his word for it without thinking twice about it. He had completely forgotten why Jisung had gone to see Chan for in the first place.

“Wanna nap together?”

“Didn’t you just wake up?” Jisung pulls one arm away from Hyunjin’s body while the other still rests there so that he can rub his eyes.

"Well," Hyunjin looks away from him. "That's beside the point. Just...missed you is all too.”

"Cute," he grumbles, ignoring what the weight of those words truly means. "I should pack for next week though because knowing me, I'll leave everything until the last minute."

Hyunjin lets out a long sigh. He hasn't even thought about putting a suitcase together yet either, "true. I should probably start packing as well."

"Okay then let’s both get ready," Jisung looks up at him before leaning in to plant a soft kiss on Hyunjin's lips, slowly pulling away and says quietly; "see you in Jeju."

Hyunjin responds, look at him, “see you in Jeju.”

I strictly forbid and do not permit ANYONE or any user on any platform to copy, re-upload, translate, remake, or pass off any of my work here on Tumblr or to any other online platform whatsoever. Doing so will result in having your account suspended, deleted, taken down, and or permanently banned.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #hyunjin x jisung #rosiewritesskz #han jisung smut #hyunjin smut

339 notes · View notes