#but trying to figure this shit out after a hell of a week and day

[suhnandmoon]

chapter twenty three: serious route

please read the chapter 23 nav before you read!!!

disclaimer: don't perceive this. i don't really like to make written chapters but i thought i'd pay tribute to my og queen (2021 starlight) and try to redeem her. i'd rather you read route 2

warnings: kidnapping, forced unconsciousness

you woke up in a daze. it was unlike the last time you woke up in a foreign setting– mark’s guest room at 3am was starting to sound a lot more pleasant than you remembered– but this time you were slumped over, seated on a tree stump in the middle of the forest. the sky was pitch black with only a small fire and a few flashlights illuminating the area.

across the bonfire, you saw three figures talking lowly. you were paralyzed, recognizing one of the people to be eric. 

mind racing, you tried to think of the best possible escape route but upon shifting slightly, the pressure on your ankles indicated that your feet were bound together with rope.

“how long is she out for?” one of the voices asked, causing you to freeze. feigning unconsciousness was probably the best way to keep attention off of you, though you weren’t sure if you could keep the act up due to your full body shaking in fear.

“how the hell would i know. i just found out last week that i could even make people fall asleep.” a slightly deeper voice replied.

“well, let’s just hope she doesn’t wake up. makes things easier for us in negotiation.” you recognized the last voice to be eric, though it wasn’t surprising to you that he brought you there.

“shit- i think she’s awake. i hear her heart rate getting faster.” the first vampire commented. your stomach dropped immediately.

“you can hear fucking heartbeats?” eric asked incredulously, earning a punch on the shoulder from the other vampire.

“we all can if you focus, idiot.”

as they began bickering, you prayed they somehow forgot about you. eyes still closed, you hadn’t realized you shut them tighter as the first boy approached you.

“yn?” he said softly, catching you off guard. there was no malice in his tone. it was a completely different attitude than what you were expecting, especially after the run-in with sunwoo.

you opened an eye slightly to see your captor. he looked to be about your age as well. though knowing he was a vampire, that didn’t do much to help you. his friendly smile and round glasses caused him to look more unassuming than you thought he would, but you kept your guard up.

he let out a genuine chuckle at your attempt to crack your eye open without making it obvious you were awake.

“i know you’re awake.” he took a step closer, instinctively causing you to lean back, though you noticed he kept a respectful distance, “i’m sorry about all this. i’m changmin.”

“i know this looks bad but i promise we’re not gonna hurt you, we just need to,,” changmin paused to chose his words carefully. “use you as leverage for lack of a better explanation.”

you battled with the instinct lingering in your mind to trust him, “why kidnap me again? sunwoo already tried and it didn’t work.”

“because sunwoo’s a dumbass who hasn’t practiced self restraint a single day in his life-” the boy previously bickering with eric yelled from behind changmin.

“juyeon, shut the hell up, would you?” changmin tossed his complaint over his shoulder before turning back to you, “we’re doing what sunwoo should have done. he shouldn’t have taken it as far as he did. but as of right, we believe this is the only way for us to negotiate.”

“you’re a vampire now so i would hope you understand where we’re coming from,” eric’s tone was not as friendly as changmin, yet still sincere, “this deal we have with them- it’s a restriction that doesn’t do us any favor. we’re just trying to get them to let up on how much blood we can take from humans each month. its ridiculous.”

“this animal shit- it’s so fucking stupid. we’re vampires. they can take their moral high ground, but they can’t deny what we actually need.” juyeon added on.

“isn’t the agreement in place mainly so we don’t get found out?” you wish your voice came out stronger than it actually sounded, the slight shake in your voice giving you away.

“so? who cares. anyone who finds us out won’t know for much longer.” eric shrugged casually, sending a chill down your spine. for a moment, hearing them converse and bicker gave them a sense of humanity though they were your captors, but eric’s indifference toward the weight of a human life reminded you just how different you truly were. 

“anyways. yn, your friends are going to be showing up soon,” changmin changed the subject and redirected his focus back on you, “we might make threats toward you, just know we’re not actually going to hurt you. we just need to scare them. no promises about not harming the guys though.”

“now why would you tell her that? she’s gonna tell them she’s okay.” eric retaliated. 

if the adrenaline in your system wasn’t so high, you would’ve found the nerve to actually be annoyed at their constant back and forth. but you didn’t have that much time to think about it before juyeon was muttering some insult at eric and walking over to you.

with one wave over your head, you were back out of it, slumping back down.

_______

it wasn’t long after your short moment of consciousness that the boys had found the location sent to them by juyeon. jeno was the only one to have stayed behind, keeping an eye out for chaeryoung as a precaution.

when they arrived to the scene, they were met with the looming figures of eric, changmin, and juyeon standing over the bonfire. eric held your slumped body close, making it clear that they had the advantage

seeing you like this for the second time caused renjun to step out, calling your name. mark had to reach out his arm to stop him from escalating anything too quickly, as eric made a show of tightening his hold upon renjun’s approach. this was sick.

they slowly approached them, closing the distance so they could talk.

“you brought us here to make compromises.” mark called out, keeping his tone neutral. “where’s your leader then?”

juyeon scoffed, glaring at the six. “this isn’t a compromise. we want this whole thing dropped.” he corrected.

“sangyeon’s the only one of you who can make that call.” the edge on mark’s voice was intimidating, but it didn’t phase the opposing team.

“i think you’re forgetting who we have here.” eric spoke up to defend his friend with a laugh, but it only caused donghyuck to scoff at the act.

“i think you’re forgetting you’re outnumbered, dumbass.” donghyuck mocked, causing eric to step forward in retaliation, briefly forgetting about his grasp on you. 

renjun and jisung quickly took that opportunity catch him off guard. with his grip on you loosened, renjun pulled you away while jisung distracted eric. this action erupted a fight out of the rest of the boys; mark, hyuck, and jaemin moving to keep juyeon and changmin away from you.

it was less of a fight, more of a tussle, when renjun extracted you from the scene. it luckily couldn’t escalate into anything serious when a deep shout could be heard several feet away from the area.

the sound of the voice immediately sent the three boys into a halt, as if they had just been commanded to freeze.

“what the hell do you think you’re doing?” the words grew distinguishable as the owner of the voice emerged from the trees. it was none other than lee sangyeon himself, as mark was smart enough to shoot him the location his own boys had sent them.

eric, juyeon, and changmin all looked at each other, expecting someone to speak up. their previously serious demeanor had a complete 180. they all looked like children caught red-handed.

“helping you?” juyeon was the first to break their silence, “sangyeon, you’ve been working yourself to death these last few months. the least we could do was resolve this issue for you.”

the firm look in sangyeon’s eyes almost dissipated at the sentiment, but he stood his ground with crossed arms.

“and how exactly would kidnapping their friend resolve any kinds of issues with them?” he almost laughed at the stupidity of it all.

“we were never gonna hurt her! we just needed to negotiate-” changmin defended their plan, earning a gasp from jaemin, “anyways, we wanted to alleviate your stress with the negotiation so taking care of it ourselves was our best option” 

their leader sighed. his lips parted, attempting to string together what he wanted to say before finally speaking up, “that's not why i’ve been busy.”

“its not? why do you get so touchy everytime its brought up?” eric pushed back.

“we’re moving. i’ve been trying to find a city without a large vampire presence so we don’t butt heads like this.” he referenced the silent group of boys just observing the dispute; unnecessarily pulled into this shit. “that’s why i’ve been stressed. no other reason.”

he turned to all of you. “i’m sorry about them. you can have my word this time that this will never happen again. i should’ve kept them in the loop.”

sangyeon nodded and guided the boys out of the forest, leaving the rest of you slightly baffled and annoyed in his wake, though you, of course, were still yet to wake up.

“well that was pointless.” chenle barked out a frustrated laugh, almost amused at how unnecessary that all was.

“and they never even apologized.” hyuck rolled his eyes, beginning their own trek out of the forest. “here in the middle of nowhere for nothing. fucking idiots.”

“at least yn’s safe.” mark tried to sympathize to avoid escalating their emotions, “let’s just get the hell out of here.

“don’t have to tell me twice,” hyuck called out, already a few feet ahead of everyone else.

[acapelladitty]

a lesson learned

Summary - After a failed attempt to escape being owned by Roman Sionis, he brings in the infamous Scarecrow to help correct such behaviours. (2.1k words)

(tw: sexual slavery, non-con, sa, whipping, mentions of previous abuse, restraints, open for a sequel)

Fic Masterlist ☆ Link to AO3 ☆ Kofi

Trying to escape Roman had been a foolish dream at best and Violet’s panicked eyes took in the scene before her as she struggled against the hard wood of the ‘x’ shaped restraint she had been placed against and strapped into. Her head throbbed, a delayed pain of the earlier blow which Roman had delivered to her skull, and her vision was bleary as her gaze darted between the two men who observed her with sadistic glee.

"Stupid bitch needs a lesson in manners." Roman spoke, directing his words to the man who stood by his side - his impressive height looming over Romans’ own. "She needs to know never to fuck with me again and I thought you would be the perfect solution to help 'correct' her bad behaviour, Dr Crane."

"Of course, Mr. Sionis." In full costume minus his mask, Jonathan Crane cut a terrifying figure and Violet sobbed into her fabric gag as she listened to them speak. "I'm always happy to lend my professional assistance with difficult patients. This one is even prettier than the last. How would you like her?"

"Broken and obedient, but not totally fucked up like the last one. She had to be sold at a reduced price because of all that babbling that your chemical shit snapped her into."

Ignoring the criticism, Crane nodded. "Modifications?"

"Eh," Roman shrugged, blowing out a puff of smoke from his cigar, "nothing nasty to look at. Maybe just the usual stuff that will make it hard for her to see herself as anything but a fuck toy to be used and abused.”

"Simple enough, Mr. Sionis. And I trust you will be joining me to assist in my work?"

"Of course. Maroni is up to some shit these days so I've been needing to keep an eye on him. I could use the opportunity to blow off some steam by listening to this stupid bitch scream.”

"Perfect. Then I suppose I'll begin my initial examination now."

Having been forced to listen to their entire exchange, Violet’s body shook violently. The last month had been a living hell, her forced abduction as she travelled home from work being only the beginning of her torments – a fact which quickly became known to her as she awoke in some kind of holding pen which housed two other women. They had been the ones to tell her of her new reality, a reality of her being little more than a sex object to be trained and used by anyone her new owner saw fit.

It was information which had sent her into a spiral of despair, her body thrashing and screaming out as it pummelled the iron door which kept her from freedom. In fact, she had kicked up such a fuss that her new owner had personally come to pay her a visit and check out his latest merchandise.

Roman Sionis, alias Black Mask.

He had been terrifying, standing tall as his goons dragged her from her holding cell and took her to one of the training rooms – an experience which still made her shudder to this day as they each took turns in using the various tools and instruments which Roman has collected to discipline his toys. It was an encounter which broke something within Violet, their abuse of her body and use of her various holes leaving her a sobbing, aching mess who had then been unceremoniously flung back into the holding pen as the other woman glanced at her with open fear.

But still, despite it all, after weeks of being forced into the most degrading and painful sex acts as an amusement for Roman and his various friends, Violet had gathered the strength to attempt an escape and had barely managed to make it past the second security door before she found herself taking a harsh baton to the stomach. A blow which winded her in an instant and made her drop to her knees, unable to do anything but struggle to breathe – it was almost a relief when the dark boot of the guard collided with her head and knocked her clean out.

The bliss of unconsciousness didn’t last forever though and awaking tied to this cross – her entire body nude and on display for the two master criminals who stood before her – had been almost as terrible as everything else she had been forced to endure.

She knew who the Scarecrow was, everyone in Gotham did, and to have him bearing down on her for a ‘medical’ examination made her heart stutter in her chest as the gag in her mouth held back her desperate pleas.

His hands were gloved, the digits long and thin as they pinched and groped at her body – sizing her up like a fresh slab of meat, like cattle at a market. He paid particular attention to her tits and plucked at her nipples until they were aching and reddened as she trembled in place.

“Lovely tits, don’t you think?” Roman interrupted, palming his cock through his slacks as he pulled a fresh cigar from his inner pocket, quickly lighting it up as he watched Crane with a cruel expression.

“Quite the specimen,” Crane agreed and Violet’s body stiffened in place as his thin fingers dropped from her tits to thrust unceremoniously up her sex, the two fingers feeling rough and extremely uncomfortable given her lack of preparation. “Receptive and responsive too,” he continued as his fingers pumped within her cunt for a few moments before pulling out just as roughly.

Crane’s fingers, the same ones which had just been within her, gripped at Violet’s chin as he forced her to meet his gaze.

“Do you think we should allow her to choose?”

“Nah, fuck her. Use the cable,” Roman replied, blowing out a thick puff of smoke as Violet thrashed against her restraints at the words.

The cable was a thin piece of wire, folded over on itself to create a loop which stung like hell as it tore into the skin of its victim and Violet had only experiences it once, the day after she arrived, as Roman – in his own words – gave her a taste of her life to come.

Seeing the cable in Crane’s hand as he picked it up from the table which housed all of Roman’s toys, Violet sobbed as he approached – stuttered pleas for mercy falling onto deaf ears as Crane paused for a second to drink in her misery before beginning her punishment.

The swish of the folded cable registered for only a moment before pain exploded across her thighs and she cried out, the sting of the wire red hot against her exposed skin. With no time to recover, she screamed as the cable struck again and her ankles pulled against the unforgiving restraints.

Miserable, Violet’s own sobs almost choked her as she thrashed against the cross. Crane was meticulous in his work, painting everything from her thighs to her tits and stomach with his swings – the exertion making him pant as he shifted his body to achieve new angles and reach new skin. Fire flashed across her skin, every targeted area an inferno of agony and heat as the thin wire instantly welted her flesh. Lost in the unyielding sensation, at one point she swore she felt something wet trickly down her leg and she knew the skin there had broken under the assault.

Crane stopped eventually and Violet fell weakly against her restraints, her body limp and roaring with agony as she observed her welted flesh through teary eyes. Her body hadn’t been whipped in some time, enough for all the previous marks to have fully healed up, and the fresh skin bore the brunt of her punishment without mercy.

Loose against her restraints as her body wavered on the edge of consciousness, Violet didn’t have long to wait though, as Roman moved quickly.

His hands were firm as they ripped the restraints free of her wrists and ankles, his nails clawing into his skin as he pinned her skin in place to get the metal free. Now free, Violet dropped to the floor with a solid thud but any attempt to scramble away from their punishments was impossible as Roman immediately fell on her like a rabid dog.

Violet shuddered as he entered her, his cock immediately sinking deep into her cunt without any care for her comfort. It hurt, his rough fucking almost like he was trying to drive her though the floor as he took the opportunity to grip her hips so hard that she knew the skin there would be bruised. It was just another humiliation and the chill of the ground was welcomed against her heated face as she slammed her eyes shut and held as still as she could.

Her face pressed against the floor, Violet could only endure as Roman brutally fucked away at her stinging sex, his every thrust igniting fresh heat in the whip marks which littered her body as her skin was dragged across the cold flooring.

“You want some sloppy seconds, Dr?” Roman snarled as he plunged his cock without mercy. “Or you could fuck her ass if you want? She won’t mind.”

“As tempting as your offer is, I will decline at this moment.”

Thankful, Violet turned her eyes far enough to catch Crane’s face but any hope that he was a better man than the monster fucking her was snuffed out in an instant as she took in the tent of his groin and the amusement in his gaze as he watched her suffer.

With a stuttering groan, Roman came and Violet shuddered as she felt the heat of his release filling her while he scored his nails across her welted skin. Anything to cause her more discomfort as she whimpered and squealed under his punishing hands and cock. But he pulled free just as quickly as he had entered her and she groaned in discomfort as she took in the ache of her sex and the stinging heat of her whipped skin.

Violet lay out on the floor, unable to move and much too afraid to even attempt it and her eyes slammed shut as she heard the steady movement of feet and the zip of Roman’s fly as he tucked his stained cock away.

“Y’know, if she wasn’t such a tight fuck, I’d probably have sold her off to Valentin or some other freak for her disobedience. She’s one lucky cunt and I don’t even think she appreciates it.”

“Spare the rod, spoil the child, Mr Sionis.” Violet heard Crane agree. “I think you’re more that capable of correcting her behaviours and I am always delighted to offer my services.”

“Speaking of which, I know you’ve still got to get your cock wet so let’s get going.”

Two pairs of hands wrapped around her quivering body and Violet screamed in surprise as both men pulled her to her feet and slammed her against the cross which she had only just been released from. The wood was rough against her back and Violet only tried to struggle once against the hands, a movement which was immediately put to rest by Roman’s gloved hand as it cracked hard against her jaw – sending her head ricocheting to the side as she howled in pain.

Violet felt the cold metal of the shackles as they once again fully restrained her to the cross. Her sore pussy continued to leak Roman’s release and it spread messily across her thighs as she writhed in place against the wood. She had been punished and her skin bore the brunt of those marks, not to mention the aches which littered her face due to the various blows which Roman had previously delivered.

“Pl-please let me go?” She asked once more – knowing the words were meaningless to both men but being unable to help herself as Roman stepped back from her position. “Please? I won't run, won't be bad again.”

At her request, Roman laughed and the cruelty in his voice made her heart drop into her stomach.

“Let you go? Oh, you are one stupid whore. More stupid than I thought,” Roman chastised as he drummed his gloved fingers along the wooden table which housed his various tools of torment and toys. “You think a little light whipping and a good fuck are all the punishment you’re getting? Dumb cunt.”

Throwing up a casual thumb which indicated off to the side, Roman smirked viciously and Violet followed his direction to find Crane standing with an equally sadistic expression. Eyeing up the small pot of thin needles which Crane held within his hands with utter horror, Violet screamed and screamed until her lungs started to burn as she understood that far from being over, her time with both men had barely begun.

[shrekshugebadussy]

if you switched out two feit smart lightbulbs at the menards in mt pleasant mi count your fucking days i will be coming to steal your kneecaps

[shoveitevil]

ugh its starting to get a lot worse again

[exopelagic]

just take this

[nomaishuttle]

it was pretty fun except i got randomly rly upset and now im still upset. sigh

[itneverendshere]

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - TWO

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mentions of possible pregnancy, of abortion, of pregnancy risks & death. self-loathing. chapter one ┆ chapter three ┆ chapter four

You lied.

You didn’t take the tests the next day.

Or the next. You couldn’t. Every time you picked up one of the stupid boxes, your heart would drop to the pits of hell and your hands would start sweating. You’d shove it back in the drawer like it could disappear if you just ignored it hard enough.

Once you knew, you knew. 

There was no more pretending as if nothing happened.

No more pretending like you didn't care that Rafe moved on like he didn’t just dump you, with no real closure and ran to the next girl he found. 

Fuck, why did he have to look so happy that night? He got to be carefree, living his perfect little life with her, and you were there, sitting on the bathroom floor, too scared to even pee on a stick.

What if it was positive? Then what? The thought of seeing his name pop up on your phone after you blocked him, or worse, hearing her voice if she picked up...you’d rather die. He didn't deserve to know.

He didn't deserve anything from you anymore.

You started googling abortion clinics before you even touched the tests. You could afford it. That wasn’t even the issue.

You had more money than you knew what to do with. Your inheritance was just sitting there. You could book a flight tomorrow, pay for whatever procedure, whatever it took—fly out of state, out of the country, if you had to. 

But that wasn’t the point. It has never been about the money. It was the overwhelming shame. The fear. The realization that Rafe might have left you, but he was still there, stuck in your head, in your body, in your fucking life. Even when he wasn’t.  

He didn’t have to worry about any of this. He was most likely out on the boat, not even thinking about you. Not thinking about what he did to you. 

And you— you were left with this. Sitting on a bathroom floor for hours a day, trying to figure out how you were supposed to make a decision that changed everything.

You started looking up clinics again, scrolling through the options, but your mind was barely even there. It was legal in North Carolina for now, but you read something about the 12-week ban they passed in June, and suddenly you were spiraling one more time, wondering how much time you even had. 

Could you wait? Could you put it off like you’d been putting off the tests, like if you waited long enough, maybe the problem would just... disappear? Shit, wouldn’t that be easier?

You heard that voice in your head, the one that sounded like your mom, at least what you remembered from watching old videos.

It was depressing how life didn’t let you hold tightly to your memories sometimes. She always reminded you of the kind of person you were supposed to be. The type of girl who had her shit together. The type of girl who didn’t get herself into situations like this, in the first place.

But instead, you were the girl who lost everything—the life you were supposed to have—and somehow, you’d still found a way to screw up what was left.

You kept scrolling like you couldn’t stop.

One page led to another, and soon you weren’t just looking up clinics—you were looking up everything. 

What happened during the procedure, how long it took, the side effects, the complications. You read horror stories about infections, about women who thought it was over and then bled for weeks, about people who changed their minds too late.

You even looked up what could happen if you didn’t get an abortion—what pregnancy could do to your body. And that was a whole other rabbit hole you didn’t need to go down. Your body changing, your hormones going insane. You thought about your boobs getting sore, your stomach stretching, the possibility of throwing up every morning, and it felt like your body was already betraying you. And then you read the serious stuff—gestational diabetes, preeclampsia, all these words you didn’t even know existed before that night. There was a minefield of things that could go wrong, things that would go wrong.

Complications. Risks. Dangers.

You read about women who almost died in labor. About miscarriages and stillbirths and the trauma of carrying a baby for months, only to lose it. You never even thought about that, how pregnancy wasn’t just this smooth, magical process people make it out to be. It was brutal. But you’d been the little sister, you never saw your mother go through it, or anyone for that matter.

Your younger cousin, Topper the bitching backstabber, had been born and raised in Los Angeles before he moved to Figure 8 when he was five. 

You were terrified—not just of being pregnant, but of what it meant to stay pregnant. Would your body even handle it? You’d always lived off coffee and takeout half the time. An unreasonable amount of parties. Too many drinks some nights.

You weren’t exactly the picture of health. What if you weren’t strong enough? What if something went wrong, and you ended up in a hospital bed, alone, because Rafe sure as fuck wouldn’t be there. It was just you.

For a second there, you thought you might pass out.

You’d thrown your phone across the room, it hit the wall with a thud, but it didn’t help. The anxiety was still there, vibrating under your skin, making you want to scream. You glanced at the bathroom drawer again, where the pregnancy tests were hidden like some cursed thing.

Maybe you should’ve just taken one.

Rip off the bandaid.

The stupid phone rang, like was having fun pissing you off, vibrating on the floor where you’d thrown it. You stared at it for a second, debating if you should even pick it up. You didn’t feel like dealing with anyone, especially not whoever was about to ask something from you.

But it kept ringing, and of course, it was a number you recognized—Lily, one of the coordinators from your dad’s foundation. Shit. You forgot about the gala. Again. The one that was happening in two freaking days, the one you haven’t even thought about preparing for.

You swiped to answer, “Yeah?”

“Hey, I didn’t want to bother you, but we need to go over the final details for the gala,” She greeted you, sounding way too perky for how you were feeling. “I really need your input on the seating arrangements, and the auction items, and—”

It hit you just how ironic this was. You were sitting here, freaking out about being possibly pregnant, scrolling through nightmare stories about abortion and pregnancy complications, while Lily was talking about a fundraiser for children’s health. Kids. It felt like some twisted repulsive joke the universe was playing on you.

You blinked back into the conversation, realizing she still talking, and you hadn’t said a word. “Uh, yeah, sorry. I’ve been busy. Can you just handle it?” you muttered, feeling guilty but not enough to actually deal with any of it.

“I’ve already taken care of most things,” she said carefully, “but we really need your approval on the final guest list and the speech. You’re the face of the foundation, after all.”

The face of the foundation. The legacy your dad left you. It was supposed to be this huge responsibility. And it was. You’d always taken it seriously. The one thing in your life you never ruined. But this year, you hadn’t written the speech yet. Jesus, you forgot it was even happening. And the guest list? No clue.

You rubbed your forehead, “I’ll look at it later. Just send it over.”

Lily hesitated again, probably sensing that something was off, you'd always been a control freak. “Okay, I’ll email it to you. Just let me know by tomorrow, alright?”

“Yeah, sure.”

You hung up before she could add anything else, staring at the ceiling. One more thing. One more responsibility piled on top of everything else. You were drowning in all these expectations—being the good daughter to dead parents, the responsible one, the perfect kook girl who was supposed to have everything. You were supposed to be the girl who had the trust fund, the perfect life, the foundation that helped kids in need.

You earned to be her.

Your phone buzzed again, this time with an email notification. You rolled your eyes, already knowing it was from Lily. She’d sent over the guest list, and you groaned, thinking you’d skim it, give it a half-assed glance, and send it back. But as you scrolled down the names, you stopped.

Rafe Cameron.

Of course, he was going to be there. Why wouldn’t he? His family had been involved in your dad’s foundation for years. It was like you couldn’t escape him.

The fucking nerve. To your gala. Your blood boiled instantly, your fingers gripping the phone so tight you almost cracked the screen.

Fuck him. 

If he thought he could just show up and rub his new life in your face, he had another thing coming. Without thinking twice, you deleted his name, erasing him like he didn’t even exist. And then, without checking another name, you sent the list back to Lily.

You didn’t give a shit if it was petty. You didn’t care if it wasn’t professional.

If Rafe wanted to play games, you’d ruin his life if you had to. He thought he could fuck you over, leave you with all this—leave you with nothing? No. You weren’t going to let him have that power.

Not over this. Not over you.

You were shaking now, but it almost felt good. Even if it was just a stupid guest list. Let him find out when he got there and there was no table for him. No seat. No fucking room. 

You still sat there staring at the screen with that stupid blinking cursor. The email from Lily sat open in front of you, and somewhere buried in the list of attachments was the speech. Blank.

Your speech—the one you were supposed to read at the gala in two days. The one you hadn’t even started writing.

This was always the hardest part. Writing it. Saying it. You used to cry every time. Standing in front of all those people, talking about your dad, your family, how the foundation was this beautiful way of keeping their memory alive. It was never just a speech—it was like ripping your heart out of your chest and letting everyone see it, year after year. It never got easier.

But Rafe, used to be there with you.

Every year. He’d sit with you while you struggled through every word, telling you it was okay to take your time, reminding you that you didn’t have to do it if you didn’t want to. And when the gala came, he was always by your side, standing just off stage, waiting for you after the speech was done. You’d run into his arms, and he’d whisper that you 'did great baby', holding you until the room stopped spinning so much.

You could still hear his voice in your head sometimes, 'you’re stronger than you think'.

That’s what he always said, even when you didn’t believe it. He’d hold you, kiss your forehead, and make you feel like it was true, like you really could get through it. He was always so sure of you. But this year? He wasn’t going to be there. He’d stop believing the lies he fed you. You were angry. You were seething. You were utterly alone.

You’d been avoiding this moment—writing.

This time around, it wasn’t just about the speech. It was about the fact that when you walked out of that stage, you wouldn’t have him waiting for you.

You’d step down into nothingness, with no one to catch you.

Your fingers hovered over the screen, but they wouldn’t move. What were you even supposed to say this year? How were you supposed to stand up in front of all those people and talk about love and family and legacy when yours was shattered?

You hated looking at yourself in the mirror, feeling like you’d lost every single piece of who you used to be.

Fuck the speech. Fuck the gala. Fuck Rafe Cameron and his stupid lies, his stupid smile, his stupid promises that he never kept.  

If he thought you were weak, if he thought he could break you, if he thought you were the same girl who used to cling to him like he was the only thing keeping you together—he was wrong.

You were going to do this without him.

You were going to stand up there and give that speech, no matter how much it hurt. And if it killed you, so be it. You’d still do it.

Because unlike him, you didn’t just walk away from the things that mattered. Even if it tore you apart. Even if it was killing you to keep pretending like you were fine. You weren’t fine. But you’d fake it. You’d fake it until the whole world believed it. 

You’d barely hit send on the email when your phone rang again, and this time it wasn’t Lily.

It was Topper. You hadn’t talked to him since that night—the night. The party where you’d found out, where you’d seen Rafe and Sofia together for the first time. Where you realized that everyone knew.

How he’d called Rafe over, like you needed him to fix it, like he was still yours to rely on.

“What?”

“Hey…” Topper’s voice was cautious, “I, uh, I wanted to call and apologize for the other night.”

You snorted, leaning your head back against the wall. “Yeah? For what part? For calling Rafe like his little bitch or for getting in front of my car when I was trying to leave?”

“I didn’t mean to fuck things up. I was just trying to stop you from doing something stupid.”

“Like what?” you snapped. “Leaving the party? Getting out of there before I had to watch him with her for one more second? Yeah, Top, real dumb of me.”

“You almost ran me over,” Topper shot back, his voice rising just a little, like he was offended you hadn’t mentioned that part. “Kinda felt like maybe you weren’t thinking straight.”

“You jumped in front of the car you fucking idiot. What the hell did you expect me to do? Slam on the brakes and listen to whatever bullshit you and Rafe had to say? Because trust me, ’m all out of patience for either of you.”

There was a sigh on the other end, the sound of him trying to not to lose his patentience, like he was the one in the right here. Typical Topper. Always wanting to smooth things over, play peacemaker between you and Rafe, like this was just another fight you’d get over.

He never really got it.

“Look,” Your cousin started, calmer this time, “I didn’t mean to call him. I just thought—”

“You always think calling him will fix things,” you cut in, “Like he’s the answer to every problem I have. He’s not. Not anymore.”

“I get that,” He added quickly, like he was afraid you’d hang up. “But I didn’t know what else to do! You were upset, and I thought maybe—”

“Maybe what? That he could swoop in and save the day?” You let out a bitter laugh. “He’s not your golden boy, Top. He doesn’t fix anything. He ruins things.”

Topper went quiet for a second, probably trying to figure out how to respond without setting you off on an angry rant again. “I get it,” he said finally, “You’re pissed at him. You have every right to be. But I didn’t call him to hurt you, okay? I was worried about you.”

You hated how genuine he sounded, hated that he meant well. He was a nuisance half of the time, sure, but he wasn’t malicious. He never was. He just had terrible judgment. 

“Next time, don’t,” you muttered, rubbing a hand over your face. “I don’t need you playing little brother and calling him when things go wrong."

“I wasn’t trying to clean anything up,” Topper explained, a little defensive now. “I just didn’t want you driving like that. You were upset.”

You rolled your eyes. “Upset doesn’t mean I need you or Rafe deciding what’s best for me. I’m not a kid.”

“You’re not,” he agreed, “But you weren’t exactly in a great headspace, so yeah, I stopped you. I wasn’t gonna let you leave like that and end up in a ditch somewhere.”

It hurt like a bitch, because deep down, you knew Topper had a point.

You were having a meltdown, and he’d stepped in, like he always did when you went off the rails. That was the problem with him—he cared, even when you didn’t want him to. He was family, the only family you had left, and he was too loyal for his own good.

“You could’ve told me,” you confessed what had been upsetting you, your voice losing some of its initial attitude. “About them. Instead of letting me walk into that party blind.”

Topper sighed again, “I should’ve,” he admitted. “I didn’t want you to find out like that. But it wasn’t my place to say anything. And I didn’t want to make things worse.”

Your hand instinctively moved to cup your stomach. You didn’t even realize you were doing it at first, but the second your fingers touched your shirt, the earlier panic welled up inside you again. If he only knew how bad things were. How bad they could get. You yanked your hand away like you’d been burned, heart hammering against your ribs most painfully. There was no way you could even begin to explain what was going on inside your head—or your body.

Not to Topper. Not to anyone. If he knew, he’d freak and you didn’t need that right now.

You clenched your jaw, pushing yourself to focus on the conversation, on Topper still yammering on about apologies and guilt You shook your head, a bitter smile tugging at your lips. 

“Are you even listening?”

“Unfortunately,” You sounded apathetic even to yourself, fingers tapping against the phone, agitated. “Look, Top, I don’t have time for this right now. I’m busy.”

He sighed. “I know you’re pissed, okay? I get it. But the gala’s in, like, two days. You... you still going, right?”

“Of course I’m going,” you scowled, barely able to hide the bitterness in your voice. “I have to. It’s not like I can just dip out and pretend it’s not happening.”

Unlike some people, you thought, but you bit your tongue.

“Good, because I’ll be there too. And I—”

“Oh, joy,” you interrupted, “Another chance for you to babysit me and make sure I don’t make a scene? Can’t wait.”

“Jesus, I’m just trying to help!” Topper groaned. “I didn’t want to make things worse the other night. I—”

“Yeah. Whatever, I’ll see you at the gala.”

You hung up. You didn’t have the patience to deal with him right now. 

The day of the gala came faster than you thought it would.

It was like you blinked, and suddenly, you were standing in the middle of the venue, walking through final checks with Lily, nodding along as she rattled off details you barely absorbed.

The room was all glitz and glamour, with chandeliers dripping from the ceiling, and everything draped in the foundation’s signature gold and white. 

Crisp tablecloths. Flowers in perfect, elegant arrangements. Waiters in black-tie uniforms were circulating, making sure everything looked flawless. Flawless.

That word made you want to gag.

You moved through the space like a ghost, smiling at the right moments, giving half-hearted approvals when needed.  You didn’t care. People were running around, asking for your opinion on this or that. You’d stayed at the venue longer than planned, making sure everything was in order, but your mind was stuck in that floating-place. You wanted to burn the whole thing down, if you were being honest.

You should’ve called your doctor. Days ago. Hell, maybe weeks ago.

Making smart choices wasn’t your thing lately, was it?

When you finally slipped into the room where they’d set up your glam team, you just wanted to sleep. The room itself was a suite off to the side of the venue, a private space meant to make you feel like royalty.

A massive mirror ran across one wall, surrounded by soft, glowing lights. A table was set up with everything—hair tools, makeup brushes, palettes, serums. Bottles of champagne sat chilled in the corner, the condensation dripping down the glass, untouched. It was the kind of place you were supposed to feel special in.

Normally you did. But this year you were numb.

The stylist worked quietly on your hair, soft curls falling into place as she tugged and pinned each section with meticulous care. The makeup artist was dabbing foundation onto your skin, blending and contouring until you didn’t even recognize yourself in the mirror. The dress hung behind you, a shimmering white gown, custom-designed by Versace for the occasion.

You looked like you were stepping into one of those perfect, glamorous lives. But on the inside, you felt like you were going to lose it at any second. You nodded along, giving tight-lipped smiles when they complimented you, and then they finally left.

The room was dead silent now, just you and your reflection. You stood in front of the mirror, staring at yourself, the perfect curls, the glowy skin, the gown waiting behind you. It all felt wrong. It felt fake. You didn’t bear a resemblance to yourself.

You looked like the version of you that the world expected—the untouchable girl. A doll.

Your rifled through your bag for your phone, but instead, your fingers brushed something else. Cold, hard. 

You hadn’t even realized it was in there.

One of the pregnancy tests. You must’ve thrown it in without thinking earlier that morning when you were rushing out the door. You hadn’t even noticed it until now.

What the fuck were you doing?

You had a gala to host in less than an hour. People were going to be looking at you, waiting for you to give the speech, expecting you to hold everything together like always. And there you were, standing in a private dressing room, about to do something so monumentally stupid. Maybe it was the pressure of tonight, or maybe it was the anger you’d been shoving down for weeks, but suddenly, you didn’t care.

You were going to do it.

Without even thinking, you stormed into the bathroom. You were so fucking tired of avoiding this. Tired of pretending like everything was fine, like you were fine.

What the hell was fine about any of this? You tore open the box, hands trembling as you pulled out the test. The room was so quiet, you could hear every little sound—your breath still uneven, the rustle of your dress against the tiles, the click of the test cap as you flicked it off.

You sat down, staring at the stick in your hand. This was insane. You were insane. Who the fuck took a pregnancy test ten minutes before they’re supposed to host a charity gala? 

You couldn’t get a proper breath out as you waited, heart pounding so hard it felt like it might rip your chest open. You leaned against the sink, gripping the edge. Your stomach churned, the nausea rising again, and you had to close your eyes to stop the floor from spinning.

What if it was positive? What if it wasn’t?

You stared at the test, willing the result to appear, but it didn’t. Not yet. The little window stayed blank, as if taunting you, making you feel like you were losing your mind. You knew you had to wait longer. You weren’t stupid. You’d read those instructions a million times by now, but you hated waiting.

Hated not knowing.

You couldn’t take your eyes off the stupid little piece of plastic. Just one line or two. That was all it came down to. One fucking line or two, and your entire life would either fall apart or what? Be fine?

You glanced at the mirror, catching another glimpse of yourself, and it almost startled you—your eyes were wild. Desperate. They were the eyes of someone who was just about ready to do anything to get this over with. 

You tried to picture telling him again, but the idea alone made you sick. You thought of Sofia, of her perfect smile next to his, and bile rose in your throat. Your hands never stopped shaking. You wanted to run. You wanted to throw that thing in the garbage can and never stare at it again.

Your thoughts spun in circles, going nowhere, just making everything worse. The clock on your phone ticked louder and louder, and you knew—somewhere out there, everyone was getting ready. Guests were arriving. The gala would start soon, and they’d all be waiting for you. Watching you. Expecting you to be the poised, perfect version of yourself you’d spent your whole life pretending to be.

And you were in here, trying not to lose your fucking mind.

You peeked back at it. Still nothing.

No line. No answer.

It felt like you were suspended in time. You closed your eyes, gripping the sink harder, praying for it to end—something to happen, anything.

Then finally, you felt it in your chest—a heavy, sinking feeling, like the moment before a fall.

You opened your eyes. 

There it was.

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige @rafebb @rafesbbyy @whytheylosttheirminds

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[hoshigray]

𝐒𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲, 𝐈 𝐇𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 | satoru gojō

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Going on a date with the guy who broke your heart is something you’d never thought would happen – especially on Valentine’s Day! But it’s just for him to be in your good graces again, nothing more…Yeah, go ahead and tell yourself that.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Gojo x fem/afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern + college AU - frenemies to lovers + mutual pining + confessions - Gojo and reader are at least age 20 - going on a date - sex in a public space; hotel room - breast fondling + sucking + nipple play - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (f! receiving) - clitoral play (sucking and swiping) - missionary position - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up or get tf up + Gojo doesn't shoot inside) - pet names (baby, cutie pretty, princess, sweetie) - angst + fluff - cameos: Shoko, Mei Mei, Utahime, Geto, Nanami - mentions of tears and spit - humor bc I'm [not] funny.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 10.3k (going out with a bang, jfc)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: final part to this short yet fun story !! tysm for the love you've given this series, it was a random idea that came to me last year and I'm so glad I was able to put more thought into it. all y'all's comments and rbs have been entertaining to read thru, love the support and engagement this story sparked with you, and I thank you sm for sticking around ccc: also!!! ty for 5.9k loveliessss mwah mwah~

and lol, yes, the title is based on the laufey song, hehe~

prev story » ❤︎

“Sorry, Satoru, Y/n doesn’t wanna see you right now — like, at all.”

“Oh, Gojo. Sorry, Y/n’s in no mood to talk to you right now. Said you better not make so much as a step past this door. Because if you do, I’ll have to charge your savings.”

“Hmph, you got some nerve, Gojo! Didn’t you hear from Mei Mei earlier? Y/n doesn't wanna talk to you…What the hell did you do this time?”

You could hear your roommates telling off the person showing up at the front door from your door. Before, they’d come to you and ask if you wish to give this person an audience for your presence. Yet you say the same thing: you’re not ready to converse with them. You’ll probably never want to talk with them again. 

It’s been like this for the past week. Ever since the little fiasco between you and Gojo — not to mention you slapping him across the face for his upsetting words — things between the two of you have been quiet as promised. The very last words you ever told him were to never speak to you again after publicly humiliating yourself by crying in front of him.

Outside of being the talk in everyone’s mouth (I mean, who wouldn’t gossip about one person slapping another after walking into them saying some mean shit about the other), you’ve been worried about by your friends ever since the incident. Your direct senior roommate, Utahime, was the first one to see you crying to yourself after coming home from classes and immediately called up Gojo to rip him a new one for making her junior roomie cry. Shoko was the passive one who listened to both sides yet still put your emotional state above anything else, telling Gojo white lies that you weren’t in your dorm room whenever he’d try to visit. And Mei Mei walked with you to your classes throughout the week in case the tall figure tried looking for you.

But it didn’t stop there. After that day, your Contemporary Issues course with Professor Naga was sheer awkwardness. The silent tension between you and Gojo was so thick that it effortlessly suffocated your peers and made it hard to concentrate — especially for the professor and your friends, Ijichi and Haibara. Outside of the class, you did your part in avoiding Gojo, and the same applies to the lectures you shared with him. No words, no greeting – not even a mere glance – were shared in his direction. It was as if your life mission was to avoid him at all costs.

However, this is Satoru Gojo we’re talking about. Although he respected your no-talking rule in the premise of lectures, he’d still try to get your attention once class was over. And even then, you’d bolt to the door to not give him the chance. He’d follow right behind you and have to maintain a respectable distance when Mei Mei was the light lavender eyes behind your back.

But what the hell did he expect? What he said hurt you to your core, so there was no way you’d want to speak with him again. He deserved that slap! The sting you inflicted on his face for a few minutes was nothing compared to the torment of your heart that’s been aching for a long while now. You can’t even look at Gojo after what had transpired. The pain he caused has been with you for a while, yet it still felt new and fresh to reflect on. 

And yet…your mind still can’t help but agonize you even more. Do you think it was easy to not engage with Gojo this entire time? Oh, it was the worst, both for your soul and mind. The memories of his smile and dimples would come up every often, pooling you deeper into your dread. The routine of him speaking to you with whispers when it was just the two of you — like he didn’t want others to find you in the comfort of each other’s presence — like it was sacred. And the way he said your name. It toyed with your heart whenever you’d reminisce it. 

“Y/n!”

Especially after how much has changed in your relationship with him, you really thought things between you and him were going for the better. Or, to be honest, becoming something a lot closer and personal. Something you grew to want with him as the days’ encounters and nightly calls went by. 

“Y/n...”

But you were wrong, lecturing yourself for being so dumb and naive for wanting such a thing. Amid the fun, you had forgotten what you two were and believed that you could change from that. Change with him. And yet here you are, broken-hearted, barely concentrating on your Word document on your laptop. 

“Hey, Y/n,” your brow twitched with the snap of reality, Utahime opening the door after knocking. “It’s the front door again; it’s—“

“GRRRAAAHHHHHHHHH!!” 

You were never one to shout within your apartment — Utahime’s eyes widened at the sudden shout of vexation. You stood up from your desk and walked past her, marching through the hallway. Mei Mei peeks from her shared room, and Shoko pours coffee in the kitchen. All three of your roommates observe you stomping to the door.

You swung the apartment door open with vigor, “I SWEAR TO CHRIST, GOJO, WHAT PART OF ‘DON’T EVER TALK TO ME’ DO YOU NOT UNDERST—…Geto?”

“Oh, hey there, Y/n. I was worried about you.” You were surprised to open the door and not find the unusual silver hair you expected. Instead, it was Suguru Geto, Gojo’s dark-haired direct roommate, rubbing his cold hands together that weren’t covered with his black windbreaker. Next to him was Kento Nanami, standing silently in his sand-colored trench coat.

“Hey, guys,” knowing they aren’t who you thought it would be, your shoulders relaxed with your tone. “What’s up?”

“Well,” Geto sighs heavily before telling anything. “We wouldn’t be here for a reason. And, after hearing what happened between you and you-know-who, I think you can guess why we're here, too.”

And then it hits — the realization of how these two’s abrupt appearance came to be. “…He asked you two to come and talk to me for him.” 

The two roommates look at each other for a second, and then Geto points behind him with his thumb to the stairwell door. You follow his finger, seeing the person you’re talking about watching you from the door window. You try not to contort your face into an ugly, exasperated expression in front of the other boys. So, you settle for a sigh to alleviate the stress growing inside you.

“Ugh. What is it.” You ask Geto with an attitude that wasn’t easily sheathed.

“Honestly, all I know is that he really – like, really – wants to talk to you.”

“Well, I don’t want to talk to him. So there,” you shake your head and backtrack past the threshold of your door. “Sorry you two came here for no reason, but I can’t—“

“—Wait!” Geto cuts you off and brings a hand on the door to stop you from closing it. You caught the intervention, widening the door again. Geto explains himself. “Look, I don’t know what happened between you—well, no, sorry. I get that Satoru said some things that hurt you last week. Believe me: I already lectured him hell and back for it when Shoko told me you came home crying, and you have every right to be mad at him right now…But—“

“Did he tell you what he said to me?”

“H—No, he didn’t,” your brow quirked at that response. He didn’t? “All he told me when I confronted him was that he messed up real bad and crossed a line.” 

“A line?” You enunciated after him. “That’s cute...Geto, he won’t tell you what he said because I caught him saying those things. That scumbag,” you averted your gaze to the door window, seeing Gojo gulp at your fierce eyes. “—knows what he said. And he knows that I told him I want nothing to do with him for that.”

Nanami was quiet throughout the entire thing, so it took you aback when he spoke. “And I’m on your side in that regard. You’re right, he is a scumbag; tactless, crude, borderline annoying—“

“Just borderline?” Geto points the word out to lighten the mood.

“And the type of person to get on someone’s nerves purposely. And with that, I don’t blame you for cutting him off. If anything, it’s what he deserves, if not more.”

You knew there was more to say beyond that. “And yet…"

“And yet,” Nanami picks it up. “…I’d be lying if I said that guy doesn’t know when he’s at fault. He can be prideful and childishly playful — albeit disrespectful to anyone he thinks doesn’t deserve it. However, he’s not emotionless, and if he is disrespectful to his friends, he knows when he’s in the wrong.“

“And take it from me, Y/n.” Geto comes in with the assist now that things are a bit calm. “Fucking asshat will take days to apologize to me for something stupid, and that’s if he feels like giving me one. But even if he doesn’t, I know he cares about me like any best friend…Like he cares about you.”

You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes, so you close them and shake your head. “He doesn’t care—“

“Yes, he does.” Nanami doesn’t let you finish that sentence. “Like I said: Gojo is many things, but he’s not an emotionless moron. Because I can tell that whatever he said distraught you to your core and made him feel bad about it — pathetically so.”

“…How do you know?” You don’t know why you asked that question; why the fuck should you care? The fucker in question is the one that broke your heart behind your back, so why bother?

“Because when he came home that day, Geto pulled him by the shirt, threw him against the wall, and yelled at him like no tomorrow. And he just stood there, letting Geto give him his rightful lashing. He even told him he didn’t deserve you as a friend, which I agreed with. But then Gojo said something after that…”

Again, this isn’t something you should be caring about. So why are you turning to Geto to ask, “…What did he say?”

“He said I was right, that he definitely didn’t deserve you.” Before the raven-haired boy answered, he exhaled through his nostrils. “And that what he said about you was, by far, the dumbest thing he’s ever done, which is saying a lot.”

“A whole lot.” The blond-haired boy jumped in. “Y/n, don’t take this as me vouching for him. But, if you could have seen the look on his face when he said that,” he nods when you shake your head ‘no’ again. “You would feel the guilt and shame pouring from him. It was pathetic to look at — pathetic for him to express. But it was real.”

And you know it’s the truth — not because it came from Nanami, but because you could picture the scene as if you were there. You could just imagine Gojo’s face, a dangerous move as your heart skipped with a twinge. You imagine the emotions he was expressing, your skin crawling thinking about his blue eyes – usually filled with life and light – appearing so broken and devoid of animation. 

“He does care about you — there’s no mistake about it. You two have been friends since freshmen year; he’d be an idiot to let those years go down the drain because of him. And that’s why we went along with coming here in his stead and asking you to talk to him.” You open your mouth, but Geto isn’t finished. “Please, Y/n. You’re the mature one, but you don’t have to act strong on this one. I can only assume, of course, but I’m sure you want this handled, too.”

He wasn’t wrong, yet at the same time, you couldn’t shake the heavy feeling that was weighing you down. 

“I…I don’t want to speak with him.” The two guys didn’t change their facial expressions. “Not now, at least...I don’t want to see his face right now.”

“Then how about a phone call later tonight?” Nanami proposed. “You two can talk it out with each other after you guys think about what to say to each other. You can even have the call while we’re sleeping so you can have privacy.”

“Ehhh, but I’m nosy.” Geto teases his sophomore roommate, making the younger blonde huff. 

“Not tonight, you are. Plus, you got a project to present tomorrow, so you need sleep.”

“Fair, fair…But seriously, Y/n, you should talk with him. If not for him, then for us, for Shoko, Utahime, Mei Mei, all of us. We don’t want you upset about what this idiot did this time. So, one talk should be okay, right?”

It should be okay. Keyword: should. However, the anxiety that you harbor within your limbs tells you otherwise. The pool in your stomach churning into a state you find uncomfortable to fight against. 

But concurrently, you couldn’t lie to yourself; a piece was missing in all of this. The resolution was needed — there had to be a way to see the entire picture in this matter. Otherwise, you’d be walking around campus mad at the person behind a door examining your reactions for the entire semester — no, the whole next year! You knew you didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with that. You can barely go through it right now. So, might as well get this off the table before it worsens…At least, that’s what you say to rationalize.

“…Okay,” you straightened your posture. “The girls have morning classes tomorrow. Tell him to call me at midnight.” 

Your answer sealed the deal, the two males dismissing themselves before you closed the apartment door. Your roommates peered around the corner once they heard the door lock, coming to ask if you were all right. You molded a faux smile and said you were fine, and yet you couldn’t tell if that was a lie to them or yourself. 

From there, the time felt so long to witness and experience throughout the day, watching one hour pass after the other. The sun had never settled under the horizon so slowly before, taking its time to draw the curtains of darkness over the Earth. And yet the time went fast simultaneously — the minutes spooked you every time you looked at the clock. 

Was this the universe’s way of toying with you for agreeing to talk to Satoru Gojo? It had to be. Your stomach doing somersaults didn’t help either; you could barely get through eating dinner because the dreaded talk bound to happen in a few hours was all your mind could think about. 

And then, when everyone was fast asleep ten minutes before midnight, your nerves couldn’t settle down. Five minutes before, you decided to take yourself and the phone to the bathroom (because the fan would be loud enough to tune out your conversation), needing the tiny space to yourself to pace back and forth and not to disturb Utahime snoring away. One minute before, you were sitting on top of the toilet, watching the seconds go by on your phone, praying that he wouldn’t call on the dot. He wouldn’t buzz you at the immediate stroke of twelve, right? He had to be doing something — anything else — hoping he’d spare you another minute if he could.

BZZZR!! BZZZR!!

However, that wasn’t the case. He called you right on the dot, and your heart jumped at the vibration from your phone. His display name was titled ‘do not answer this jerk,’ a change you made the day after the incident. Yet here you are, in the bathroom, and your thumb shaking over the green button. 

It wasn’t until the sixth vibration that you pressed the button with a sharp inhale, bringing the phone to your ear with haste. The silence was in the air for a couple of seconds, worsening your anxiousness. Until—

“…Hey.” He was the first to say something, thank God.

“Hi…..Where are you?”

“Outside my apartment, sitting on the stairwell...You?”

“In the bathroom.”

“You sitting on the toilet?”

You know what he was doing, making the conversation easier before getting to the hard stuff. Nonetheless, you admit it was working while your nervous state gradually deteriorated. “…And what if I am?”

“Then I’d say….Heh, actually, no. I can’t make that joke right now. Not when we’re like this.”

“Mmm, like this…” You hummed, the awkward tension filling the silence once again. “….Look, Gojo—“

“Before you say anything,” he cut you off, but you allowed it. “I have a lot I wanna say to you, and I want to get them out the way before I forget and never get the chance to say them to you…Can I say them?”

Your brows scrunched together, your free hand drawing reassuring circles on your thigh, and your teeth gnawing on your bottom lip. “…Go ahead.”

“Okay…So, first off,” you held your breath to brace yourself. “What I said about you on that day — I’m not gonna sit here and say I didn’t mean those things when I said them because I did. But NOT in the way you’re thinking.”

“Then what way did you mean them, Gojo?”

“I meant them in the implication that I was trying to protect what you and I had.” Had? “Our relationship was being questioned, some girl was asking about us and…I know you weren’t ready to have our business out in the world yet, so I thought….I just said what was believable with how everyone sees us since we’re always butting heads and shit. So, I said and meant those things to protect us in the heat of the moment. And then…I guess I got carried away.” 

“You guess you got carried away?” You repeated, your anxiousness now substituting for subtle anger. “…Just a little person angry at the world around them? So exhausting to deal with someone so boring and uncute as me?”

“Holy fuck, you remember it all—“

“Of course I did!” How could you not!? “And then — hmph, now this one I’ll never forget — ‘I’ve seen prettier, been with better, I feel sorry for the poor bastard who does end up with them’…” Your emotions were a mix of offense and pain, irritation and misery. Despite that, your voice maintained a calm tone, even if you wanted to do nothing but yell at the screen. Yet that wouldn’t solve this. “Gojo, the fact that I know all of that, verbatim, and have refused to talk, think, touch, or even look at you since them…To say you got carried away is just…like, holy fuck. Who the hell were you?” 

He didn’t say anything for a minute, but you couldn’t blame him. Being hit with his own words like that, any moral human being would stop and let that shit simmer into their skin. 

“…I’m sorry,” you wanted to call bullshit so bad, but not after he followed up with this. “Really. I’m so…so fucking sorry, Y/n. I know that shit wasn’t cool, and, to be honest, I expected more than one slap for that. I only meant it to save you the burden of gossip; believe me when I say that.”

“I—ahem…” Nope, you were not going to do this. Not tonight. “I want to believe you, Gojo. But I just…I can’t; it hurts my head thinking about it.”

“I know…I did that to you, and I’m so fucking sorry. My foot was too far up my mouth when I said all that, just one useless thing after another….And you know what’s crazy? I think my conscience knew me spouting shit wasn’t the right call. I mean, I literally walked with you to the class that day; what kind of friend does that and say shit like that afterward? And when I saw you….the way you looked so…distant? Just like that, everything that we had was just gone. I couldn’t see it — I saw absolutely nothing when I saw you. That scared me, seeing the happiness and the smile you had minutes ago just vanish with the flip of a switch. And I fucking did that. I knew at that moment that I lost you…..Y/n…? Are you crying?” 

You immediately moved the phone away from your ear, covering your mouth with the arm of your sweatshirt. The cries you tried to suppress poured out at that moment, and the pain that scratched your insides left your system with every sob and intake of breath. The tears damped the material, soaking them in as they rolled down your cheeks.

As ways to start the eve of your Monday, crying with the person who broke your heart on the phone was not one you expected to be one of them. It all hurt: the rapid emotions, the memories of that day replaying in your head, the genuine sincerity expressed in his voice. It was all too fucking much, your face heating up to a concerning level that you’d think you’d blow up.

You give yourself a few seconds before bringing the phone to your ear, “….What else?” 

“Huh?”

“You said—sniff—that you had other things you wanted to say to me.” A change of subject was necessary, not wanting him to notice the broken crack of your voice. “So, what else?”

The request took him aback, but he knew better than to question or fight you. “…Second of all, I wanna say – since I’m not sure I’ll ever get the chance to tell them to you in person – I want you to know that you’re more than what I said. There’s nothing 'kinda' pretty about you — you’re pretty all over. I’m not saying that to butter you up; it’s something I’ve said to myself all this time…Who am I kidding, saying I’ve been with prettier and better when I hurt the most beautiful and kindest one my eyes ever laid on….? Boring and uncute? Heh, you’re anything but. Sure, I say you're uncute when you nag at me to no end, but I don’t think there’s been a single day that I’ve thought you were a sore for my eyes. You’re too gorgeous for that.”

“Gojo—“

“I don’t deserve you as a friend, Y/n.” Your breath hitched. “Honest. I shouldn’t even be talking to you right now. And yet, you gracing me with time to spare shows that I really don’t have the right to have you close to me…I’m sorry.”

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know he was honest about his apology. You felt it in your bones; your gut told you what Gojo told you was true. Your anger was nowhere to be found, but your guard was still up.

You slowly exhale through your mouth before taking your turn in the conversation. “So…Is that all?” 

“….”

“…Gojo?”

“….”

“Gojo? Are you still—“

“I like you.”

Okay, you lied; your guard wasn't up for that.

There’s no way he just said that. There’s no way those three exact words left his mouth and entered your eardrums. They kept ringing throughout your head, bouncing off the walls of your cranium with each repeated syllable. Your eyes widened by the second, your body coming to a complete standstill. And yet, the only thing that was moving and showed signs of life was your heartbeat increasing with the silence.

He likes you. The Gojo Satoru — your frenemy, annoying peer, and friend who enjoys your yelling and nagging — likes you.

“You…You what?” You heard him perfectly, but you wanted to confirm this wasn’t some joke.

“I like you.” He didn’t hesitate to replicate. “I do, I really do. I’ve liked you for….quite a long while, way before we started having sex together.”

“How long ago is that?”

“I think since the spring semester of freshman year when we had started to get a little closer before you became friends with Geto...Yeah, for a while now.”

“…Why?”

“Hmm?”

“Why do you like me? 

You heard him sigh out a large breath before answering. “…To be honest, I just like how you…are you. Like, you’re not scared to be yourself around me. Many people I’ve known try to kiss my ass for me to call them a friend, and even then, those guys are assholes…But you, I don’t see that — I never saw that. You’d never kiss my ass; you’d always be down to tell me when I’m wrong or right. Being around you was different from other people; I felt comfortable around you like you were one of my friends.” 

You didn’t intervene, listening to every word he was to say. 

“Not to mention…Heh, you’re so cute. Like, actually. And pretty, and independent, and bright. I can’t count how many times I’ve been lost in my thoughts about you. Especially recently, you’re all that I can think about. I like how it feels to hold your hand, and your fingers look small against mine. I could never get enough of you talking to you; it’s one of the things I look forward to. And, holy fuck, the way you smile. I swear, you could kill me with that face of yours. And your eyes — I’m always told mine are so beautiful to look at, yet I find that impossible whenever I get stuck when you look at me….Y/n? Are you—You’re not crying, are you?”

You said in sniffles. “You’re such a fucking asshole, Gojo…”

“Huh!? Why??”

“You break my heart one day and then say all these things the next…Are you trying to tell me that stunt you pulled is that dumb thing where people say stupid shit about someone else because they like them?”

“Hey, I told you why I said them! Besides, those two bimbos were getting in our personal life, and we didn’t have anything to call our relationship, so…!”

“Sniff—And you! Why didn’t you tell me you liked me for so long instead of annoying me to no end?”

“I could’ve done that, but…I don’t know. I guess our relationship was easier the way we had it. Things were less complicated for you. Plus, you’re cute when you’re angry at me.”You had to scoff at that. Of course, he’d say something like that. He can be such a prick sometimes. “I was okay with how things were, being all naggy and arguing with you while secretly close to you. I didn’t want to change something we were used to into something more.”

“Mmm.” You could only hum to that sentence, letting his words sink in before saying anything. “…Would it have been a bad thing if it was something more?”

He didn’t answer immediately, indicating that he took the question in serious thought. “No…I wouldn’t have minded. But that decision was all yours to make.”  

“Gojo,” The words you were about to say were about to be so nerve-wracking that you had to take in a deep breath. Chewing on your lips while exhaling through an open mouth. “….Would it be a bad thing if I said….that I liked you, too? And that…I still like you—”

KA-BANG-BANG!!

You jumped at the sudden sound coming from the other side of the line, as it was not the response you were expecting, and you could hear him saying curses further from the phone. After a few brief seconds, Gojo’s voice comes back.

“Fuck, sorry, sorry! I just dropped my phone on the stairs!” He sounded so worried, as if he lost you. “You.…You like me?”

“Yeah, I do…” Gosh, you didn’t think this would happen, the heat on your cheeks expanding to your ears and neck. “I really do. And I’m also willing to forgive you. BUT, you have to prove your worth by redeeming—“

“I WILL!” Again, it wasn’t the reaction you were expecting! He replied with such momentous excitement that you could imagine the sparkle in his blue eyes. “I will, I promise! In fact, I have an idea; how about I take you out on a date?” 

Huh!? “A date??”

“Yeah, on Valentine’s Day, this Wednesday! I know this great place not too far from here, or maybe you wanna go to a small café to wind down from classes? You can pick—”

“Wait, wait! We have classes that day; we have our night class with Professor Yaga—“

“We could skip—“

“Hell. No.” You shut him down with quickness. “We’re going over some serious discussions that day for our papers on Friday; we’re just gonna have to do the date after class.” 

“Pfft, God, you can be such a geek sometimes.”

For the first time that night, you rolled your eyes. “Says the Digimon-fanatic talking to me right now.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He snickers at the phone, and your heart swoons at it. It felt like you hadn’t heard that laugh in ages. “So…Is that a yes?”

It had you thinking for a temporary moment; talking with Gojo again just felt so…familiar. It was something you’d been missing for the past week, accepting that you’d never experience it again. And here he is, inviting you on a date? This was, by all means, a weird night. An apology, a confession, and now being asked out? 

Regardless, you can’t shake the feeling of wanting to be by his side again. And with a chance like this, why brush it off? “Yes, I accept your date.” 

“Then it’s a Valentine’s date. Cool.”

“Cool.” You awkwardly repeated after him, becoming squeamish with the brief silence. “Okay, well, now that we talked. I need to get some sleep.”

“Mmm, okay. Go get your sleep, then. Be sure to think of me in your dreams~”

Your head is shaken again, this time with a smile. “Whatever. I’ll try…Think of me too, Satoru.”

“I always do, Y/n.” Jesus, the way he gently and affectionately said your name. Is this what it’s like to admit you like someone? “Good night.”

“Good night…Oh, wait! You said you had a joke earlier.”

“Hmm…Oh, yeah?”

“Well, now that we’re kinda on good terms…What was the joke?”

“Oh! I was gonna say it’s kinda a shame that you’re sitting on a toilet and not on my face.”

“Goodbye, Gojo.”

“PFFFT, No, wait, I’m so—“

CLICK!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

As far as dates go about, this is one that Satoru Gojo was the most nervous about. 

As promised, after your class with Professor Naga ended, Gojo waited for you with his car on Main Street by your dormitory. He was already dressed for the date, adorned with a black turtleneck and jeans that matched his Chesterfield coat. But you had a few things you wanted to touch up on before going out for the night, so he texted back that he’d wait for you outside.

What he didn’t expect was being instantly shot down by you once you came down and walked to his car. Because holy fucking shit, you looked so fucking beautiful. If this was a “touch-up,” all the people he went on dates on must’ve not been trying.

You were wearing a black halter long-sleeve top; your collarbone and shoulders were out for his eyes to trace and breathe to hitch. Your arms were shielded by a hoodie that looked a bit big for you but did its job of protecting you from the cold winds. And black thigh socks that contrasted with the plaid skirt and the puffy boots. And…did you put on lipgloss on? Holy shit.

“So,” you’d say meekly to catch his attention since he’s examining your every feature. “I’m ready…” They were simple words, yet they had the power to have him stop leaning on the car and grab the door for you. You were chewing on your lip, avoiding his gaze that watched every step you took. “You’re staring, Satoru…”

“Hmm? Oh! Sorry...” He’d close your door and mutter, scratching his neck where the heat from his ears crawled around. 

And from there, the date began. The plan? He wanted to take you to some fancy restaurant, but you politely declined and told him you’d settle for dinner and a movie. And you two did just that, going to this burger joint that was popping off when you entered. You two sat at a booth by a window, enjoying your food and conversing about each other’s day.

“You did not have to do that.” You said in giggles, bringing a fry to your mouth. 

“I did, too!” Gojo replied after taking a big bite from his burger. “The fucker almost tried to dirty my basketball shoes; do you know how much those shits cost? Expensive as hell.” 

“Yeah, but to push your buddy to an ice bath because he almost dirtied your shoes?” You shook your head with a smile. “And all shoes are expensive these days, Satoru.”

“Yeah, well, mine were custom-made. So,” he takes another bite. “Serves him right.”

Gojo didn’t notice it himself, but you saw a bit of ketchup on the corner of his mouth. Tending to your friend’s obliviousness, you grab a napkin and stretch to him. At first, he thought you were giving it to him to wipe it off himself; nope. You did it for him, tenderly dabbing the condiment off his lip. 

And you didn’t even notice what you were doing until your eyes met his, instantly pulling your hand back. “Sorry! You just…had something on there…”

“Mmm, thank you…” he said it low, but you heard him. What you couldn’t hear, thank God, was the beat of his heart going at an unsteady rate. It took a minute for you two to shuffle uncomfortably for the conversation to flow back.

After the dinner was the movie, a random action movie that you two felt interested to see. And it wasn’t that bad of a film; the plot was pretty subpar, the acting mediocre, but overall, a good movie. 

However, Gojo couldn’t focus on the movie for lengthy periods because his eyes would usually drift to the right of him where you sat, surveying how engrossed you were watching the film that you didn’t notice him. God, even in the dark, you looked so gorgeous and cute. 

Sometimes, he’d glance at your armchair and look at your hand, the inner dialogue between himself on whether he should go for it and place his hand on top of yours. But he doesn’t do it. He wants to, but he can’t, not like this. It was killing him so much; the feeling of wanting to touch you and have you against him again was haunting him — they’ve been haunting him for the past few days now.

“Fuck…” he’d mutter under his breath, but you wouldn’t hear because of the sound of explosions coming from the theater speakers. He wanted you but didn’t want to mess this date up. He couldn’t afford to screw this chance with you, he just couldn’t. 

Once the movie was over, he’d walk with you to the parking lot where the car was parked. The chill winds of February crawl up on your bodies, and you bundle up into your warm hoodie. “Did you enjoy the movie?”

He hummed with a tilted head. “Meh, I’ve seen better. It wasn’t too bad. What about you; you liked it?” 

You looked up to ponder and shrugged, swaying side-to-side as Gojo leaned on his car. “Yeah, it was okay. There’s better stuff out there.”

“You just saying that to agree with me?” 

“No, maybe you’re reading my mind and copying my answers.” You give a tiny smug look, only for him to smile along.

He then asks, “So…did I do good with this?” He can’t lie; how you lifted your brow instead of giving an immediate answer made him a little nervous. And with the tilt of your head and turning your body fully towards him, you knew you had him in the palm of your hand. You hand him your verdict:

“I think so. You treated me to good food, didn’t try to poison me, and got a free movie ticket out of it.” You jokingly punch his chest. “Yeah, I liked this date, Gojo. Consider yourself redeemed.”

He snickers lightly, “Good, I don’t think I can take another day of you being mad at me.” That made you giggle; good. Things go quiet for a while, and he averts his stare downward. His eyes land on your hand, the thoughts from the movie theater teetering back to his head. Goddamn it, he really wants to touch you—

“I can see you staring through those glasses, Gojo.” And just like that, you propelled your hand to link with his, making the tall boy flinch. “Your subtlety is wearing thin.”

Your teasing tone evokes a chuckle disguised in a sigh from Gojo, his fingers slithering to intertwine with yours. “What makes you think so?”

You peer up to him. Fuck, your eyes were so beautiful. “You were practically staring daggers at me while watching the movie. Am I on your mind that much?”

“Yes.” You expected a different answer – something more playful – and it’s why you couldn’t breathe after he brought his face closer to yours. “Infintely.”

Suddenly, the cold air didn’t bother you anymore. The heat on your face blossoms across your cheeks and ears while maintaining eye contact. “Am I on your mind right now?” He nods, your noses barely brushing each other. You whisper to him, “What are you thinking about?”

“I wanna kiss you.” He closes his eyes; you can see from his shades. “I want to hold you like I did before.” The hand clutching yours gets firmer. “I want you…Just you.”

The way he has with words effortlessly pulls you in, his voice comforting to the point you allow him to put his other hand around your waist. You faintly reply before connecting your lips with his. “I want you too…Satoru.”

When he pecks your lips, a feeling you two feared was wiped off the Earth returns to warm your bodies. Your hands instantly go around his neck like usual, sighing through your nostrils as you permit to sink into his hold and kiss.

Gojo uses this to bring his hand behind your neck to keep you on him, the kiss becoming more passionate by the second. He licks on your bottom lip, a sign of wanting entry. So, you open and lick him back before he takes the initiative to put his tongue inside your mouth. And you moan into his lips — fuck, how he missed the sounds you’d make for him. It felt like forever since the last time he heard them. 

This moment brings the spark between you two back, the sounds of the world around you drawing out from your space. All that mattered was you being in his embrace and him having you with him like this again. It all felt right — being with each other — with nothing bothering this peace meant for you two.

So much so that Gojo took it upon himself to convince you to stay with him tonight at a nice hotel close by, where you two couldn’t get off each other the moment you closed the door to your room. Hot kisses are exchanged as you two remove each other’s clothing, Gojo undoing your bra and lifting you to place on top of the bed. 

His lips never leave yours, even when his hands play with your chest. Your legs wrap around his waist to pull him closer as he rocks into you. Your core down south experiences throbs that entail you want him, your horniness dialing up with every grind of his groin.

He breaks the kiss to playfully bite your lip so he can hear you yelp for him, placing his lips from your chin down to your neck. You say in shaky breaths, “Hahhh, Satoru, please touch me more…”

He lifts his lips from your clavicle, “Of course, princess; you know I always got you.” He then licks from your collarbone down to one of your nipples in a tantalizingly slow fashion, your body squirming from anticipating what he’s about to do. His tongue finds its way to swirl around the bud, having your hum to the wet touch. And when he decides to suck it into his mouth when it’s hardened, you gasp. 

But it doesn’t stop there, one hand tweezing the other nipple as he licks around the one in his mouth. The free one snakes down your abdomen to your skirt, lifting the material for his digits to meet the damp spot of your panties. 

You jerk at the feeling of him moving the material to the side, rubbing his bare fingers on your precious, wet cunt and clit. “Ahhnn! Satoru, Satoru—Mmmm…” He rubs around on your folds in circles before adding his forefinger smoothly inside, his slender digit efficiently rubbing your vaginal walls have you holding back whimpers. 

When he thinks you’re ready enough, he adds his middle finger inside. Both his digits scrape and graze around your inner walls, provoking silent screams to leave your lips. Your fingers find his hair to tug, which only has him suck on your breast more. 

“Hooohhh, mmmmh…Right there, right thereee…please—Ohooo…!” You moan to him, your thighs jerking with every scratch of his fingers in your chasm.

“Mmm…you close, pretty?” Gojo releases your nipple for a quick second, returning it inside his warm mouth after he sees you nod hurriedly. “Hold tight, okay? Lemme get you ready, sweetie…”

You cry at the increase in speed, the nails of his fingers scraping the velvety tender spots inside you. Your body jerks to him as your hands find his shoulders to pinch on. Gojo lets go of your bud once again to move his lips down south, spreading your legs to take a look at your mess.

“Holy shit,” he says with a bitten lip before he crouches down to kiss your clit after slipping your panties off. “I fucking missed this pretty thing so fucking much.” He licks your soapy folds up to your clit, drowning the delicate button with feverish laps of the tongue. It has you screaming his name, and he loved that so fucking much.

Gojo stuffs his face to your slit, drinking your essence while teasing the clit with fast swipes. Your wails get louder and louder, and he doesn’t make it any easier when he keeps your legs spread for him to continue his work. Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m gonna cum, I’m—“Ahhahnn!!”

That’s when you come onto his face, your cunt spasming with electric pulses and your legs shaking with every hit of your orgasm. And he keeps on sucking and licking your fluids; you’d think he’s sucking the life out of you. But you can’t blame him; the boy is starved for you.

He soon withdraws his face from between your legs when you’re done with wailing and crying, licking his lips and leaving off the bed to take out a condom, throwing his jeans and drawls to the floor. But then something is wrong, and you can see it when Gojo presses his lips into a thin line before climbing back to the bed and maneuvers on top of you. He aligns the glans of his cock to the entrance of your vagina, and it’s there that you notice he doesn’t have the rubber on.

“I…I forgot to bring a condom, sweetie.” He says to you in a tune that harbors slight worry, and you can tell from his azure eyes that he’s a little nervous about this step. You held back a giggle; for once, he looked adorable when worried about something.

“…How good is your pull-out game?” You ask, half-jokingly.

His white brows trench together. “Are you sure?” 

You nod and kiss him on the cheek. “I trust you, Satoru, so just be careful, okay?” 

He blinks at you, taken aback by your lack of resistance. Yet, at the same time, he knew you needed this just as much as he did. So, with that in mind, he pushes the glans into you, observing your breathing to gauge how much to propel inside. The tip of his length then bullies itself inside you, a sharp gasp coming from your sweet lips while Gojo moans at the raw feeling of you around him.

“—Hnnn! H–Hooooly fuck,” with every inch he pushes inside of you, the sensation of your pussy chills him up his spine. The rubber had been shielding this away from him, every dent and smooth tissue of you wrapping around him. Oh, fuck, this was a dangerous game to play. “Oh, shiiit, you feel so fucking good..”

You could agree with that notion, experiencing his naked girth inside you for the very first time. You could feel his veins graze against your walls, the curve scraping your spots tenderly. “Ohhhh, fuck, you too, ‘toru…Oh my God…”

Even starting with slow thrusts was a hard card to pull, the subtraction of the condom making this feel so new and fresh — a scary dance to do with two young lovers. He pulls his cock slowly til halfway up the tip and then rushes it back inside to your wetness. Your pretty purrs fly out with every movement.

Gojo takes this time to look at you with your disheveled figure sprawled out for him to see and pick at like eye candy. Watery eyes batting up at him with pleasure behind half-lidded orbs, your chest that he loves so much out for him to give a nipple another tweak, and your legs curling around him as his tempo increases. You’re so fucking beautiful, and he’s so lucky to be able to have you under him again. He wouldn’t want it any other way — he wants to belong to you and you with him. It’s a dream he’d kill to have with you.

“Y/n…” he says your name in a shaky breath, groaning at your slit clamping onto him so suddenly. “Can I…Be your boyfriend?”

You didn’t have enough time to react appropriately because Gojo hammers his cock into you with no warning. You scream out for him to stop, to wait a minute so you can give an adequate response! But no, he ruts into you like his hips have a mind of their own, forcing you to cling onto him for dear life as the curve of his length jabs you in places that have you rolling your eyes to the stars.

“—Ahahhnn!! Ahhh! W-Wait, Satoruuuu!!” Your words slur out with a hot breath, drool coming down your mouth with no control. “You want me….Mmnph! To be your—“

“Yes! Oh, fuck…yes!” He says with no hesitation, slamming his pelvis down to your pussy so fast that his balls smack on your taint. Oh, fuck, this felt way too damn good! “I wanna be yours, and I want you to be mine—Hooooh….No one else’s…!”

“Nnahh…!! Ohhh, my God, fuuuuck…!” Your heart beats eighty miles per hour, your whole body endures heat shared with Gojo, and your thoughts travel too fast to keep up. He wants to be my boyfriend? He wants to be my boyfriend! “…R–Really?”

“Yeah, really, really.” He smiles breathlessly at you, placing a kiss on your forehead. “Let’s be a couple, yeah? I want you so bad; you drive me so fucking crazy—Hannhh!! Shit, shit… I don’t want to hide this anymore — to hurt my cutie anymore. Let’s make this official so I can be with you without worries.” He snaps his hips harshly, grinding his pelvis with the flex of his abs, provoking more horny howls to seep from your puffy lips. He lowers to whisper to your ear while a hand clings to yours on the side. “Whatcha say, princess, hmm? Let’s be together….Hmmm…!”

Holy fuck, this is not a confession you were expecting while having your insides churned out, with your crush between your legs, in the middle of a hotel room, on Valentine’s Day. Your mind was getting foggy enough from the hot commotion in your inner thighs — now your head was filling up with fantasies of being with Gojo as a couple! This was beyond bizarre, something out of a fucking movie! 

And yet, you couldn’t find any reason to say no! There’s no denying it — those feelings Gojo had for you were the same as you had for him. You feel so happy being around him, in his hold, whispering and expressing his vulnerable side to you, and you’d want to throw all that away? Hell no! 

“—Mmm, yessss,” you can’t help but shed a little tear at him, to which he readily dries away with a thumb. “Yesss, Satoru, I wanna be yoursss — please…take care of me!”

Gojo slams his lips onto yours, your mewls taken by hungry lips while his strokes go at a rapid tempo. You almost choke on his spit from the way your clit catches abrupt hits from his pelvis, and the tip of his dick pokes your fragile spots with precision. 

Oh, Jesus fucking Christ! You felt it; it’s coming. You felt it in your bones, the shivers crawling up your spine as you inhaled to prepare. “Maahhh! ‘Toruuu, I’m gonna cumm…! Quick, pull out—Oooooo!!” 

Thank God you gave him a warning. The tall other was too lost in the feeling that he was just about to come inside you! He removes his body off of yours to swiftly pull his member out, using his hand to finish the job for him, although he already misses the warmth of your cunt. 

He comes at the same time as you, his load shooting out from his urethra and spilling onto his hand. White fluids slide between his fingers as he continues to stroke himself off while your legs twitch and your slit contracts and flutters on nothing, letting the wave of your climax pass on through with every howl. 

The air of the hotel room cools your bodies after disconnecting your sexes off each other, and huffs and pants from heaving figures are evidence of you two trying to find your balance in the world. Sky-blue eyes lock in with yours, and he laughs in faint puffs.

He crawls his way back between your legs after wiping his hand, placing kisses up your neck and chin. “Hahhh, fuck, that felt way too good.”

“Mhmm,” you hum with him, letting him place his head in the crook of your neck. 

“Hey,” he traces a finger along your collarbone. “Wanna skip classes tomorrow?”

Your eyebrows draw upward. “One day of Valentine’s isn’t enough?”

“Nope~. Plus, I wanna make up a week’s worth of not being around you.”

“Pfft, sure,” you stifled a laugh. “But you need a single day to do all that?” 

He lifts his head with a grin. “Well, we don’t have enough clothes to stay here until Saturday.” He maneuvers himself to lie on his side. “Why? You doubt I can do it?”

“You’re free to prove me wrong,” you give him a sneer. “I suggest you start getting to work.” You didn’t expect your words to flip a switch, causing the snow-haired other to grab you by the legs to him. He restrains your hands above your head, and you can’t fight the giggles from his playful manner.

“With pleasure,” he claims your lips again, your sweet murmurs entering his ears.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Psst, oh my God, do you see that?”

“Holy shit, this can’t be real!”

“Woah…Am I in the right universe?”

“Satoru, I told you people would stare…hurry and let go of my hand—“

“Nope! I like where your hand is right now~.”

It was like this the entire day. Ever since your Valentine’s Day date with Gojo, things instantly returned to where they were supposed to be and more! It was amazing how one day could make the bitterness of the weeks prior dissipate with the February wind. There was nothing to be scorned about —nothing to be scared of — everything felt clear to you and the person you were holding hands with.

After that date successfully went well — and won your heart in more ways than one, you’ll admit — you and Gojo decided it was time to unveil the status of your relationship. No more secrets, no more hiding feelings for each other; you two were officially a couple, both in private and outward!

Spending two days alone together felt like a dream, being so close to each other without worrying about being seen and critiqued in the eyes of others. But now, back on campus grounds, you can’t go back on your promise and have to walk with your cheeks and ears burning as Gojo’s fingers tighten the grasp around yours. 

Of course, the change of pace was a complete shock to the students and staff on this Friday. The number of perplexed gazes and starstruck figures who stopped to look at the two of you was too many to count — hell, you even saw Professor Gakunaji’s eyes widen for the first time! It was all so embarrassing, being the talk on everyone’s mind after keeping a low profile for so long. And here you are, holding hands with the star basketball player, the guy everyone knew assumed you couldn’t stand being within arm’s length with, and now, the boy you want to spend the rest of your college life with, Satoru Gojo.

Who, by the way, is loving every single second of this — of course he is, the fucking cheeky bastard! You don’t think you’ve seen his smile and dimples never leave his face for the entire day. He was stuck to you like glue, walking you to your classes and immediately returning to your side after his lectures ended like a happy puppy. He knew you were a little overwhelmed with it all, but that wasn’t a problem because he’d happily make sure you didn’t think you were the only one going through with this. Plus, you just looked so fucking cute looking all bashful around him now that he expresses his love for you publicly. I mean, the way you were in shock after he kissed you on the cheek after walking you to your second class of the day with Utahime? Oh, he wished he had a picture! Especially with your roommate’s jaw dropped to the floor (which never closed throughout the remainder of class as she just stared at you) after seeing the startling, romantic interaction.

And now, here you two go, walking out from your last class of the day with Professor Yaga — who was caught off guard when you two walked in together with a lovey-dovey (mostly on Gojo’s part) atmosphere but gave you a small smile as you walked to your seats (which were changed because Gojo pleaded you sat next to him from now on) as Haibara and Ijichi exchanged cheeky glances at the observation. 

You two were walking down to the dining hall, where you planned to have dinner with Shoko and Geto and tell the two best friends of Satoru Gojo of your intimate relationship. But gosh, everything was going too fast! “Hey, Satoru—“

“Yeeeess~?” He says in a sing-song tune, too pleased with himself as he swings your hand to and fro with his. 

“Do we really have to do this today? Why not eat with Shoko and Geto tomorrow—“

“Huuuh!!? But I’m taking you out tomorrow!” You want to hide your face when passersby hear your boyfriend’s reaction, immediately swapping gossip when they’re out of your vision. “Besides, they’ll be hella busy studying tomorrow at the library, so today was the best option.” 

You nod aimlessly. Ughhh, this is just too much. I feel like my head is gonna implode. Then, you felt Gojo grip your palm tighter and put your walk to a stop, prompting you to look up at him again. 

“Hey,” he says with his signature smile, his dimples becoming more prominent now that you’re gazing up at him. “It’s gonna be okay, alright? I got you, and you got me, right?” And he brings you in for a tight hug that has you squeaking and your lips quivering from hearing people gasp at the display of affection. “And now that I finally have you to myself — officially! — don’t think for a second that you can ever get rid of me!”

On the one side, you really want this fool to let go of you so everyone can stop staring and you can get this dinner over with! And yet, on the other side, your heart was beating in such a tune that had you melt into his embrace, and the smell of his cologne made you hum to his chest. You can’t seem to fight the smile growing on your face and your hands coming around to hug the white-haired, lovestruck fool back. “You’re too silly, Satoru…”

“Uhh, are we interrupting something?” 

With haste, you and Gojo break the hug to see the owner of that familiar voice. To your surprise, it was Shoko greeting you two with a smile. Next to her was Geto, also harboring a sly smile on his face before you. 

You cough to clear your throat away from Gojo, who sneaks his hand on your shoulder to keep you close. “H–Hi Shoko, Geto! I see you guys beat us to the dining hall.“

“Yeah, we were wondering if you two would make it. But now,” Shoko’s brown eyes venture from the figures of Gojo and you being close together, “I can see that you two wanted a bit of time to yourselves.”

“Uhhh, oh, you know; we just wanted to walk together since we had our last class for today!” You try to move your shoulder away from Gojo, but his grasp gets firmer and firmer.

Geto laughs, “Oh, no need to act so shy on us, Y/n! It’s good to know that you two are back to being close and cool now. Especially now that you two are a couple.”

“Ohhh, c’mon now, we’re not—“ you stopped, your body going rigid, and everything suddenly fell silent. “Wait….You knew?”

Geto hums as confirmation. “Yeah? Gojo told me.”

Your face forms into confusion. Gojo?

“Me?” Silver brows hang up at the statement. “I never said anything.”

Shoko makes a slightly bewildered expression. “What are you talking about? Remember that photo that you sent to Geto on Wednesday, and—“

“Woah, woah, woah.” Gojo’s fingers tense on your shoulder. Oh, he knows he’s in trouble. You can tell as he silently removes his hand while you question his best friends. “What picture?”

“Uhhh, the one he sent when you two were out for Valentine’s?” When we WHAT!? “Hold on, lemme pull it up from our messages…Yeah, this one.”

The moment Geto brings out his phone and gives it to you, Gojo felt his heart dropped to his ass. Not that you could tell, but the aura of fear was enough to be picked up. What showed on the screen not only had your jaw drop to your feet, but the cutesy feelings you had a minute ago with Gojo faded. Instead, it was replaced with the growing irritation that had your fingers tremble.

Geto’s phone screen displays a message and an attachment from Gojo on the night of your date. Judging by the time, it happened when you assumed you two were sleeping. The attachment proves your point, showing your sleeping face peacefully on Gojo’s bare chest. And the man in question is shown groggily awake, holding his phone to take the picture while his lips are planted on your forehead. The message below the photo answers Geto’s question, “Yo, you two made up already?” To which the taller figure says, “Yeah, kissed and made up. :3”

“Gojoooo….”

Before you do or say anything, your shaky hands return the phone to its owner, which Geto takes silently while backing three steps away with Shoko. 

“SATORUUUU!!!”

You yell out his name without a care for the people around you who immediately look at you. You turn to where he’s supposed to be — supposedly by your side. But you’re not surprised to see that he’s gone, turning your heel to find that the snowy-headed figure was backing up with his hands up.

“H–Hey now, Y/n,” He says nervously. He better be nervous because your eyes showcased a wrath he wasn’t ready for. “Calm down for me, okay, princess?”

“You…Are so…FucKING DEAD!!!”

And it was there that you chased him down, running around the halls. Geto and Shoko watch with baffled expressions before they scoff with laughter. The same goes with the other students who witness the commotion, enjoying the familiar banter between you two. 

It’s weird to say that you and Gojo are officially a couple now, at least to the public eye. However, no one seems to be in denial of it or push it aside. If anything, they seem happy for you two, finally coming around to express each other’s love for one another in a better way than insults and shouts.

And your friends can say the same, enjoying the change of ambiance whenever you two are in the same space. No more trying to ignore the rambles and arguments between you two, no more tired eyes rolling around their sockets when you call each other names. Because they know those will happen anyway; nonetheless, it’s now in a better light that the banner of young love is finally open and hanged.

 It’s a love that you and Gojo can finally express, be free, and be happy with.

“COME BACK HERE, SATORU GOJO!!”

“NO, YOU’RE JUST GONNA HIT ME!!”

And you two wouldn’t want it any other way. 

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 ❤︎ reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ dividers by @/cafekitsune & @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[starkeysprincess]

i dont know if youre doing request rn but if you are could you write rafe x reader where he gets all jealous and takes it out on her?

JEALOUS ༉‧₊˚.

pairing: frat!rafe x sorority!reader warning(s): unprotected sex, p in v, rough sex, creampie & i think that's abt it tbh ??? word count: 1,228 (i got carried away sorry) a/n: ty anon for the request, i hope you enjoy it, angel

Rafe huffed in annoyance after getting off a phone call with you and he had wanted to take you out on a date because it’s been a few weeks since you last went on one. Unfortunately, you had to turn him down due to having to be present and participate in the fundraiser your sorority is throwing to raise money. He wasn’t sure what your sorority was doing for the fundraiser because you’ve been too busy trying to get things together for the event.

The door to his room swung open as Topper and Kelce barged in, asking if he had any plans for the day. “No, ‘s not like I have anything else to do” Rafe shrugged as he followed his two friends into Topper's car, figuring he might as well hang with the boys.

Rafe zoned out throughout the car ride until he heard Kelce and Topper whistling, “Shit, the sorority girls are doing a car wash” Topper chuckled, “Guess, it wouldn’t hurt to support them, right?”.

“You just wanna see girls in bikinis” Kelce snorted, “And you wouldn’t?” Topper scoffed, almost in disbelief. “Plus, we’re supporting Rafe’s girl’s sorority” Topper added, making Rafe furrow his eyebrows in confusion, “What the hell are you talkin’ about, Top?”.

“It’s your girl’s sorority, look” Topper nodded, making Rafe turn his head to see a few girls holding signs that had ‘Alpha Delta Pi: Car Wash’ clearly written on them.

He looked around as he sat in Topper’s car, his eyes scanning all around until they finally landed on your frame, almost bulging out of his skull from taking in the sight of you in a red bikini, his favorite bikini that you own.

Your back is facing him and he can’t help but smirk as his eyes roamed your body but his smirk quickly falls as he sees Brad, a frat boy from a competing fraternity, whom he can’t stand, walking up to you. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me” Rafe snorted, glaring as Brad approached you.

His eyes stayed glued to Brad, watching the two of you interact. The conversation between the two of you seemed innocent and Rafe has never been concerned about you flirting with other guys, you never gave him a reason to be because everyone knew you only had eyes for him.

At this point, he completely zoned out Topper and Kelce, rolling his eyes as he notices the way Brad was checking you out. The more he watched, the more irritated he got, his jaw clenching harder every second to the point it felt like his teeth would shatter. As soon as Rafe noticed you laughing at something Brad said and Brad touching your waist, he completely lost it and practically flung the car door open before slamming it shut as he made his way over.

You yelped in surprise as you felt someone grabbing your wrist, pulling you towards your sorority house. Rafe practically shoved you into the nearest bathroom on the first floor, locking the door and that's when you realize it was your boyfriend, "Rafe? What are you doing here?".

Instead of getting a response, Rafe pushes you against the bathroom sink, your lower back digging into the cool marble as his lips are on yours in a hungry kiss within an instant. He trails wet, sloppy, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw to the column of your neck, sucking and biting at the skin, making sure to leave bruises as his hands move up your waist, towards your tits.

You gasp as he roughly squeezes them before tugging at the cups of your bikini down. He kisses his way down to your tits, making sure to leave marks, "These are mine" he groans.

He pulls away, smirking to himself as he takes in the sight of the bruises forming on your neck and tits. You don't even have to ask Rafe what's gotten into him just from the look in his eyes, one that you're too familiar with.

His fingers dip into your bikini bottoms and he can feel how wet you are for him as his fingers spread your folds, his thumb pressing against your aching clit, "Gonna fuck you so good, show him that you're mine". Before you can question who he was talking about, he spins you around, his large hand splayed against the small of your back, roughly pushing you down until you're bent over the bathroom counter.

He doesn't bother wasting time as he makes work of pulling your bikini to the side and quickly tugging his shorts and boxers down, his hard cock springing out. He brings his hand to his mouth, spitting into it before wrapping his hand around his shaft, giving himself a few tugs. His hand firmly pushes down on your back even further, the edge of the counter digging into your skin and he uses his knee to nudge your legs open wider.

“There she is” Rafe groans, taking in the sight of your glistening pussy, “Prettiest fuckin’ pussy I’ve seen”. A small yelp escapes your lips at the feeling of Rafe’s hand slapping against your pussy, "And it's all mine". 

"Rafe" you whined, which was quickly replaced with a moan as he pushed into you in one thrust. He didn’t even give you time to adjust, jealously clouding his mind as he started pounding into you, the sounds of skin smacking against skin, echoing off the walls. “Fuck, you feel so fuckin’ good” Rafe groans, his hand on your back, keeping you in place as he delivers harsh thrusts, making your body jolt forward against the marble counter. 

“I’m the only one who gets to see this view, the only cock you’ll ever need is mine and mine only” he grits his teeth, glancing down to watch his cock sliding in and out of you. “Y-yes” you stuttered, his thrusts becoming harder with each thrust. His hands move to grip your hips tightly, pulling you back against his cock, his hips snapping against your ass. 

Your hands gripped the counter to the point that your knuckles turned white, crying out each time his cock pushed in and out of you. Your legs started to tremble slightly and you could feel yourself getting close, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Rafe and encourages him to go faster.

“Oh god, Rafe!” you screamed, your orgasm hitting you hard, your pussy pulsing around his cock. “That’s it, just like that” Rafe moans, his orgasm teetering on the edge, “Who’s pussy is this?”.

“Yours!” you cry out, making him chuckle, “That’s right. It’s my pussy. You’re mine. Your pussy is only meant for my cock and cum. I’m the only one who’s allowed to stuff you full of cum, understand?” he pants, his movements start to become sloppy as he’s close, “Yes, only you” you whimpered. “Oh fuck” Rafe grunts, his eyes fluttering shut as he fills you with his cum, leaving the two of you panting. 

He pulls out of you, watching as his cum drips out of you before he uses his fingers to push it back into your aching cunt. He fixes the bottom of your bikini, pulling you back up and pressing his lips against yours, “You’re mine and if the hickeys all over you don’t make Brad stay away, I won’t hesitate to fuck you in front of him”.

taglist: @redhead1180 / @princesssuki21 / @eternalbuckley @ihe4rttwd @hallecarey1 @heartsforvin @rafescurtainbangz @xxbimbobunnyxx

[satoruhour]

LAUNDRY DAY

a/n: I AM ALLIVEEEEEEE 🔥🔥🔥🔥 sorry i had a crazy week! can be read as a standalone piece but based off gojo’s roommate au of here and here / tagging @jabamin @hyomagiri @utahimeow @lov3rbody ☆

wc: 4k

warnings: sub!gojo that turns into dom!gojo, fem!reader, fantasising? gojo is a pervert too, mentions of semi-public sex, implied somnophilia, panty sniffing, pillow / dry humping, m! masturbation, oral (m receiving), deep-throating, praise, pet names, unprotected sex, multiple rounds, creampie / breeding kink, n*sfw under the cut

living with you was hard. brushing his teeth with you was hard. being around you — hard. both figuratively and—

there’s a loud sigh from you.

clearly tired from the day’s activities of ushering in freshman after freshman, you lugged your body into the bathroom. the same rehearsed words have been leaving your mouth as your cheeks hurt more and more by the hour, only to repeat it all over again the next day.

“you look like shit,” it’s muffled by the way the toothbrush is stuffed into his mouth, foam peeking out from the corners of his mouth and you’re trying not to tell your roommate (and boyfriend) to shut up — you didn’t have the energy to do, much less say anything and you certainly didn’t have time for your lover’s clever quips so late in the night.

it didn’t help that you recently had an argument too; well, trivial to him but much more major to you. it was a matter of getting gojo to keep his laundry properly and to clean up after himself once he’s gotten himself comfortable in the relationship. it’s not like he doesn’t want to — he was cleaning up in the first place to impress you — but now since he’s got you, it’s like he simply expects you to act as his little wife when it was a shared space. the exact argument you used against him.

“satoru— this is a shared apartment! you can’t just leave tteokbokki cups lying around with the gochujang sauce still inside! it’s going to attract cockroaches and ants!” you gesture wildly, the sheer amount of trash lying around making you even sicker than you thought possible. getting paid to usher in freshmen and then coming home to this? it felt like every cent of your hard work had gone to waste.

there’s only a grin on his face, “you’re so attractive when you’re mad, baby.”

that was another thing: the lack of seriousness that gojo possessed at times, simply talking to piss you off, simply living to be the bane of your existence. “and you’re fucking unbelievable, gojo satoru. clean up— or don’t,” you made sure to lace that last word with venom, “i don’t care.”

that seemed enough for gojo to snap out of his stupor, “no, no— princess, fuck, i’m s—” his brows furrow when he briefly spots the thickening glaze of your eyes, possibly filling with tears before you’re marching into your room to slam the door and he swears to himself. satoru had never felt embarrassment and shame and sadness like that day; having just taken a shower but his skin was sweaty and uncomfortable and his heart sat right at his feet.

gojo swears he never wants to hear you say his full name ever again.

since then, it’s been a little tense between the two of you. geto had noticed it on movie night, shoko realised you haven’t been looking at your phone as often. hell, even prof. yaga had to tell you that you were distracted way too much lately, and it’s only been two days.

satoru tried to possibly take back what he said with whatever powers he didn’t possess, but he only gets another sigh from you as you squeeze the toothpaste out and start brushing your teeth, not even sparing him one glance in the mirror.

and yet while he was the first one to start his nightly routine, he’s left to be the last again from the way he’s unable to stop staring at you, a recurring trait of his whenever you were in the same room with him. it’s a testament of how attracted he was to you — at how his shirt slips off your shoulder from how big it was because even when you were mad at him, you forgot about that little detail. gojo’s eyes trail from your exposed shoulder to your legs and back up again to your fatigued face. he skims over the shape of your eyes and down to your nose and he thinks he’s the luckiest man to be brushing his teeth beside you now, blessed with seeing such an intimate side of you even if it’s as simple as this.

until gojo’s eyes fall upon your mouth as your toothbrush is doing its job of perfect innocence, cleaning some teeth, scraping off the bacteria on your tongue, except when you’re switching it from side to side all your roommate can think about if it was his dick instead. and the thought leaves him as fast it comes.

all you do is shoot him a weird look through the mirror when gojo exclaims like he was a vampire whose skin burned under the bathroom lighting, and he regains composure with ease.

“i’m fine! fine. doing a-okay.” satoru speaks through the foam and it’s spraying everywhere and you’re too tired to care before you hear another gulp when you move your toothbrush again, “sorry! sorry— continue please.”

gojo is starstruck for an entirely different reason, now, watching the toothbrush making bulges at the side of your mouth as it moves in and out and he’s left to fantasise about the many, many times you’ve gotten him in you and the warmth of everything. he can feel himself get hard under his sweatpants when you start brushing your tongue and you gag and he wants to die standing in this 30 square foot bathroom because the last thing he wants to do is sexualise something perfectly mundane.

gojo isn’t like that (well, most of the time. can’t blame him for finding you smokin’ hot).

“what the fuck is your problem?” you’re speaking through your foamy mouth now, spitting it out and proceeding to clean up with no clue of what you do to him. satoru on the other hand — terribly excited that you’d even open your mouth to talk to him after two days of endless silent treatment. 

“nothing, baby. it’s nothing, i promise.” you can’t lie at the way your heart jumps at the familiarity of it all, of being in such proximity to your lover, doing domestic things like these and the ‘baby’ and yet your pride is holding you back on everything.

you go straight to sleep, too, not wanting to entertain anything related to gojo satoru and you feel just a little bad when he looks at you with those baby blues and a sweet pout on his face. he looked especially pathetic in the bathroom, like a deer caught in headlights at just the presence of you and you want nothing more to apologise. it’s never that easy, though; you needed a promise, you needed the reassurance that he wouldn’t be leaving you to clean up after him again.

all these worries are willed away when you finally fall into slumber in your own room, body craving the warmth of satoru unknowingly. you had stolen a pillow the day before and it’s been the sole source of his scent, the only thing to keep your mind sane.

gojo’s heart drops again upon seeing you already deep in sleep, thinking he had a chance to catch you before you did, but the needines for you never goes down even now. he cannot take his mind off the way you’d run your hands through his hair or tangle your legs with his, satoru’s limbs recall the memory of you playing with his fingers and how you like to curl your arms around his neck. 48 hours is enough for him to go insane, and also maybe at how your leg was propped up on his missing pillow, hugging it so tight to your chest. you hadn’t bothered to wear pants either, so all he can see is the shape of your cunt under.

he stalks into the room and kneels in front of you, finger so tempted to run along your folds and make you wet, staring a whole minute and weighing his options until decides he doesn’t deserve it, turning away and closing your door softly.

“going now, satoru.” it’s soft when you mumble it, not even wanting him to hear before you’re stopped. you’re donning the uni orientation shirt and eyebags, a soggy sandwich from yesterday staining your bag with its smell. “what?”

“made you somethin’,” gojo’s cute like this with a frilly apron and hair band, still managing to tower over you despite the adorable get-up he’s got on, “it’s a bento.”

and you wish you could just melt the pride that runs through your bones and kiss him all over, and you break just a little. a small smile and you walk up to him, grabbing the lunchbox and pecking him softly on the cheek, turning away fast enough to not catch his fangirl moment — because you knew you wouldn’t be able to make it on time if you did.

“we still have to talk later when i come back, okay?” you call out as you put on your shoes and you steal one last glance at him, “and today’s laundry day. you know what t—”

“yes ma’am!” gojo salutes and you roll your eyes with a small smile, locking the door behind you with heat on your cheeks and the pounding of your heart. it was difficult not to break when it came to satoru, when he’s trying so hard to win back your words and love, and so tonight you’ve decided after the tiring week is when you’d finally stop running away over such a small matter.

although, gojo got caught up in something way beyond your expectations even if he had his initial intentions (which involved ordering your favourite takeout and kneeling at the front door in apology). 

your roommate lays around for a bit before grabbing some lunch and heading to the back room, a little extension attached to the kitchen with a tune on his lips. it’s clear he’s a little driven by your little innocent peck, a sign that maybe you weren’t so mad any more. for the next hour, satoru is contently doing the laundry with a smile, until—

the panties you threw in before showering must have fallen to the bottom of the pile, the same one he saw you wear last night and he thinks maybe the low humming buzz he heard last night wasn’t his imagination because when he picks it up he can smell your arousal. there’s a stain from the previous night and another pool of juices from this morning and he now knows that it wasn’t the kettle.

“dirty girl,” he grins, “both yesterday and this morning?” he’s thought about this for the longest time, always holding himself back because you found him weird enough even before you were dating, always letting you do your own separate load for your undergarments. but since you’ve gotten together, you were more comfortable, throwing it into the same laundry basket — the compulsion has never been this strong before.

gojo puts it up to his nose and smells like the pervert he is, among other times: teasing you with a hand down your pants when the two were over at your dorm, fucking you in the kitchen as they focused on the movie, pounding into you with the windows open, and he almost ascends at the scent of your pussy juices. there’s a spark that goes down right to his core and he palms his bulge unconsciously, coming to his senses when the washing machine beeps.

he impatiently puts in the settings and leaves, heading straight for your room and is hit with all reminders of you. the perfume you used this morning and the body wash you share with him, walking almost under a trance to your bed where he moans at the softness of the sheets as he falls face first. it doesn’t take him much to scoot to your pillows, but the need for you is just too much.

gojo grinds his cock into the bed, whining softly as he whiffs up your natural body smell, hips moving on their own accord as he manoeuvres a pillow between his legs. he humps it like a dog, groaning and moaning and the strain on his dick is just too much, balling up the undies in his hand and his body tenses at the friction. 

“baby . . f-fuck—” satoru’s voice is high-pitched and choked, all the thoughts of you culminating into one big ball of desperation for you and he cums in his pants, tainting the fabric a darker colour than before. but he’s not done — his hips still move against the pillow, thrusting into the fluff as he rides out his orgasm, moans muffled by the pillow. “miss you . .”

gojo misses you more than anything, feeling so much distance even within the house that he flips over — by now the sun shines its golden rays a little less. the afternoon is winding down into a cool evening — and pulls at the waistband of his pants. he’s still sensitive, wrapping a hand around his hard cock and pumping and the sound that leaves his mouth is borderline slutty. with another smell of your cunt, he strokes his dick, using his cum as lube.

“oh . . r-right there— mhnng . .” satoru’s hips buck into his hand, squeezing and thumbing at his cock before unbundling your panties and wrapping them around his shaft. the sight drives him insane. sure, it’s one of your more everyday underwear, neutral in both design and colour but he can feel the fabric get wetter and wetter from how much cum he’s pushed out earlier and that’s enough to keep his hand pumping. “s-sweetness, cummin—”

gojo’s head makes a dent in your other pillow from how hard he was pushing it, back arching at how the warmth in his hand will never compare to your mouth or pussy. he can already feel his second orgasm approaching, your room filled with the squelch of his cock and his sounds and he shoots his load with a drawn out moan all over your panties and his stomach. his cum is always so much, dripping down his pelvis and onto his hand and also . . yours?

your boyfriend lets out the girliest scream you’ve ever had the pleasure of hearing, scrambling up to the headboard when he sees you hovering over his body. he accidentally kicks your chest in the process and you have to clutch it with a small “ow”, although a small smile is still present on your face.

“having fun?”

“dude, what the fuck?” 

your smile drops, “dude?”

gojo suddenly has his hands moving frantically, “nonono— no, sorry, i meant baby!”

you sigh, sitting back down on your heels as you take in the sight: his still hard cock and the sweat lining his body. his bangs are wet and your eyes flit down to your soiled underwear.

“uh . . i was just borrowing it,” gojo nervously chuckles, handing the cum-filled panty to you and your brows furrow.

“darling, you can’t just give someone back their clothes with your come on it.”

and your boyfriend pouts again, “i really am sorry. and for everything else, too. for not cleaning up and for being a general bum,” this is why you also (sometimes) favoured his unseriousness when you were talking about difficult things. the amount of times you had succumbed to his touches and kisses when you were mad at him was much better than your pride. gojo brings you onto his lap like his dick wasn’t just out, and you relish in the closeness you’ve missed.

“i need you to show me you mean it, ’toru,” he lights up at the nickname he loves just as you point a finger in his face, “aht! calm down. don’t think we’re all buddy-buddy again.”

“i will try,” gojo is smooth, taking your hand into his while the other brushes the hair away from your eyes. you lean into the touch, “and i will try until you see my efforts.”

you smile at his honesty, “and i’m sorry for ignoring you as well. it was childish of me.”

gojo hums, bringing your face in to plant a kiss to your lips, “i missed you like crazy, princess.”

you laugh, “yeah i can tell, i miss you too.” you gesture to all of him and he whines softly at the joke, squeezing your waist.

“you’re not weirded out?”

his breath hitches when you move down his body and situate yourself between them, finger tracing his tip and teasing him, “why would i be? i’ve literally fucked myself wearing your shirt.”

gojo gulps loudly, “you did w-what?”

“i’m just better at not getting caught.” all words are taken from his lips then, when your mouth engulfs him and the feeling of it is just pure insanity. gojo pants and his thighs tense, a hand gathering your hair into a ponytail to keep it from interfering. his eyes fixate on the way your suck him off, recalling the last time he’s watched you do that was in a damn bathroom. 

“y-your mouth—” satoru swears under his breath when you swirl your tongue around his shaft, the tip of his cock making bulges on the side of your mouth and it only leaves him calling out your name time after time.

“y’know,” you gargle on him, slurping up his cum, “i know what you were thinking starin’ at me last night.”

gojo snaps his fingers and mumbles out a shaky damn, because he can always be read like an open book. he just didn’t know he was that obvious.

“looked cute staring,” you mutter around him, “like a little puppy.”

you slap his thick length on your tongue, moaning when you feel just how heavy it is, “you just wanted this so bad, didn’t you?”

gojo whines at your words, nodding, and you go back to the abuse on his dick, bobbing your head up and down as your hand plays with his balls. the other moves over his torso, at the porcelain skin there and you can feel his stomach heaving at your ministrations.

“are you close, baby?” you ask mindlessly, the lewd sounds of his fat cock in your mouth sending sensations right down to your sex as well. you never really listen to his answer, taking a deep breath and sucking in your cheeks and soon you’re deep throating your lover.

“mh— mmf . .” sounds deep from your throat as your nose buries itself in his pubes, and satoru struggles to hold your tantalising stare. he can feel his tip hit the back of your throat and his moans are quick and high-pitched.

“cumming— ’m cumming,” before you come off and you go back to your pace and gojo’s small moans descend into longer ones at the feeling. his eyes roll back right into his skull as he twitches in your mouth and soon he’s spilling right into your throat and tongue.

“baby—” satoru’s eyes are squeezed tightly shut, “s-shit . .” and the sheer amount of cum always takes you off guard, sputtering over it when you drag your lips off of him. your boyfriend’s eyes are hooded and darkened, looking at how the strings of his semen droop from your mouth and connect right to his weeping tip.

“eugh, eat more veggies, ’toru. you’re bitter as fuck.” you say with a giggle, swallowing nonetheless as you wipe a hand across your mouth, “thanks for the meal.”

his spirit has certainly ascended, chest heaving and legs jelly from that mind-blowing orgasm. even he takes solace on the headboard, looking down at you with tired eyes.

“but i’m not done,” you truly weren’t, driving satoru to the brink after you’ve milked him to his limit, and yet he wouldn’t have it any other way as he thrusts into you, having had a new burst of energy after seeing your confidence wane once you’ve gotten his dick in you.

it was cute — your words breaking up and staggering as you sink down for the first time after two days, reduced merely to whines as you ride him. gojo lets you have your fun for a bit before he properly flips you over, pressing down on your lower back.

“fuck yourself onto me, baby,” he can tell you’ve missed him too by how you squeeze around him, a sly grin on his face when your hips push back onto him. he sees the tight hold you have on the silk sheets and the soft whimpers leaving your mouth. “good girl . . juuust like that.”

you’re jerking forward when he slaps your ass, letting it ripple from the force of both of his hand and your hips. but he takes over soon enough, grabbing both your arms and pulling you gently off that you’re hanging limply. and even while he does that, he’s still focused on the way your lips spread to accommodate him together with a ring of white at the base of his cock.

“that feel good? huh?” gojo mumbles, loving the way you arch your back and your head lols forward, just letting him do whatever he wants to you. you’re too far gone to even quell the ache in your thighs, too distracted by the wetness of your pussy.

“feel s— s’good, satoru—!” you moan out and like always satoru is indecisive in everything, now tugging you up to rest chest to back. “g’na cum!”

your legs spread more and more as your lover keeps you tightly pressed against him, an arm around your neck and the other, waist. wordlessly, he guides your face to the side, meeting your mouth in a sloppy, drooling kiss and his hips stutter at the way you mewl into his mouth.

“that right, princess?” he asks into your lips, relishing in your face contorting in pleasure. eyes reaching heaven and your mouth parted cutely even more when he props a leg up and his cockhead presses against your cervix ever so lightly.

“y—yeah . .” it’s a mix between a whine and a moan before the only rub of your clit from satoru’s hand sends you reeling and you’re trembling in his hold. you can feel your juices coat his length just as he cums as well, too obsessed with the way your cunt feels aeons better than his pathetic hand. he litters your skin with groans of his own, continue to fuck his cum back into you as you milk him dry with ropes and ropes of semen painting your womb white.

“good little girl,” he hums, and you sigh at the feeling of him cumming again, sensing him removing himself with you with an obscene pop! and you want to continue. you’re already moving your hips yet again, begging with small please’s but the happy-go-lucky song of the dryer interrupts the both of you. you scowl.

gojo laughs into your neck, and you’re left grumbling as he sets you down gently, letting you catch your breath before he presses a kiss to your sweaty cheek.

“i’ll handle it, baby,” satoru made a promise to you and he’ll keep it. he hurriedly pulls his sweatpants over his bottom half, “you just rest up.”

it’s not even two minutes later that you already miss him, trotting over to the laundry room in nothing but his shirt and you just watch as he removes the clothes with a certain tranquillity and delicateness that you’d like to see this sight more often and all you can muster in the moment is your arms around his middle.

and the sweetness of the moment is immediately ruined by gojo, “let’s fuck here. whaddya say?” 

your roommate and lover can only grin when you turn him around to smack him (“it’s!” slap “not!” slap “sanitary!” slap “here!” slap), finally happy everything’s back to normal. satoru simply presses a kiss to your temple.

[foldingfittedsheets]

Hands down one of my worst experiences in high school was when the seniors decided to extort the entire school by using tactics that were banned by the UN to get them to pay for the senior party! If that sounds like a wild sentiment stay tuned because this shit got crazy.

I was living in Arizona at the time and I was a freshman. Our campus was largely open air, with walks between class room buildings and some covered outdoor tables. Our event began with a morning announcement. The seniors were collecting donations for the senior party, and when they reached their goal, their fundraising method would stop.

Their fundraising method:

To pipe the entire schools speakers with "If You're Happy and You Know It" on loop. To this day, I cannot hear this song without experiencing a degree of rage and madness that is frankly alarming. One of the worst parts of the entire thing was that the recording they chose had the female singer do a little clap and say "Yay-ha-hey," at the end. So it wasn't just the song, it was this awful little cooldown stinger at the end.

If this sounds a lot like psychological torture you'd be extremely correct! This practice has been banned in some countries, but the good old US hasn't ruled it a human rights violation, and what a fun silly way to raise money, that definitely wasn't damaging to adolescent psyches!

Every morning for 15 minutes before school began, every passing period, every lunch, and after school for another 15 minutes they blasted that fucking song on unceasing repeat through every speaker in the school. Everyone found different ways of coping with this and mine was to observe my classmates descent into madness and categorize the stages.

The first stage was almost completely consistent, and it was a smug almost exasperated eye rolling phase. Often accompanied by derisive comments about the song or the tactic, this phase was extremely mildly annoyed. Most people figured it would blow over soon, and no one anticipated this continuing for a week and a half, creating a miasma of fraught tension.

The second phase was elevated annoyance, starting to snap and be less amused characterized this level of irritation. People would try to cover their ears or put on headphones, humming aggressively to block out the syrupy repulsive children's performer with her loathsome little clap. This phase had people picking their absolute least favorite part of the song. Her inflection on certain words, her timing between verses. I think it's pretty clear already which part I hated most.

The next phase was a bounce back out to absurdity. It became funny how annoying it was and people would sing along as if to challenge the song's authority over their psyche. This paired exceptionally poorly with people in phase two as they'd often lash out at the people giving more voice to their hell.

The fourth phase was a dead-eyed madness. People would stare straight ahead and their lips would silently mouth the familiar words. The song had pounded its way into their very soul and was inextricably linked to auditory output. They often didn't even realize if they began chanting along.

The fifth and final phase was pure uncut pubescent rage. Kids would scream, attack each other, and in a truly epic end to the event hurl a cafeteria chair with such force at the speaker in the cafeteria to irreparably damage the sound system.

The seniors got funding for a party, but some of it had to go to repair the damages, which were substantial.

[vvampirelust]

just thinking about ellie and shane being obsessed with actress!reader

warnings: smut, filmindustryAU, actress!reader x shane x ellie, weird crossover i know, oral (r receiving), not proof read

it all started when you moved to LA for for a part in an upcoming sci-fi role. a huge change, uprooting your life suddenly…but this could be your big break. you were diving in having no previous interaction to anyone on the movie, therefore you had expected to make connections, friends, opportunities. what you weren’t expecting, was to meet them.

first is your hairstylist, who had the socks charmed right off you minutes after sitting in her chair. Shane, she carries herself with such confidence, knowing exactly how hot she is. big on eye contact as she kneels to level with you, explaining what she’s gonna be doing with you each day. she’s just doing her job, you have to tell yourself when she mutters things like “mhm, that’s hot,” as she admires her work. or “you’ll look beautiful if we just…yeah, that’s it,” nimble fingers pinning the front of your hair back. other hand gently pulling messy strands out to fit the scene you were doing, fingertips always lingering a little longer as she skims the skin of your face.

and then there’s Ellie, assistant director, working her way into SFX, getting at much experience as she may need. when you first saw her on set you were convinced the two of you would not get along. after witnessing her grumpy attitude, scowling and sighing, snapping into the mic of her headset. yet when ellie is sent to tell you, you were needed back on set, she was wide eyed and blushing. you found her adorable, the way she stumbled over her words, attempting weakly to rephrase herself, “i mean, shit. would you mind coming back to set with me? big man’s asking for ya’ but you know, if you’re busy it’s cool. i’ll uhm-yeah i mean i can talk to him?” she’s awkward and unsure of herself but returns your grin with a shy smile of her own. since then, she loves fetching you for your scenes, always ensuring she’s not busy, jumping at the opportunity to spend even just 5 minutes a day getting to know you.

the two girls soon became aware of their mutual interest, neither exactly hiding their attraction. ellie would huff every morning she came to pick you up from hair and makeup. not so silently grumbling when shane would lean down to whisper some inside joke you shared. hating the way you would laugh, flashing that pretty smile of yours. the hairstylist would flick her gaze to ellie in the mirror, smirking as always. now ellie would never admit it, but she too was made flustered by shane’s charm.

~

one night, the three of you were together in the hotel room you were staying in. a little drunk, celebrating being halfway through filming. other friends you had made along the way had been and gone, empty glasses and beer bottles left in their absence.

thighs touching as you now sat comfortably between shane and ellie, staring intently out of the floor to ceiling windows. city lights shining in the night, tiny little dots from how high up you were. how the hell did you get here? shane cut the silence, and the bullshit, pulling you out of your thoughts with one question. “if you had to choose one of us, me or ellie?” what shane doesn’t know is you’ve been trying to figure that out since your first week on set. so you shrug, “i really don’t know.” neither of them enjoy that answer. “i like the both of you,” you say with a sigh, but it is the truth.

turning to shane first, your lips meet in a slow, tentative kiss, breaking the barrier. her hand slides around your waist, you gasp, and shane kisses you harder. heating by the second, tongue sweeping in to taste. shane’s showing off, pulling you into her lap, knowing ellie is sat frozen on the other side of you, feeling a mix of jealousy and guilt for watching but she’s never been more turned on. your hand finds shane’s throat, softly pushing her head back against the sofa. she’s smug, eyes daring as she looks up to watch what’s next. you’re beckoning ellie to come closer, practically gulping as she does. your free hand cups the back of her neck, pulling her in, lips shyly slotting against yours. ellie gains confidence in her kisses, eagerness in each swirl of her tongue. her plump, bitten lips feel so soft against your own, each satisfied hum from ellie vibrates over your mouth. it takes all your strength to break the kiss, especially as ellie stays there, panting through parted lips, cheeks flushed, eyes blinking open in confusion. she follows your gaze, your eyes innocently cheekily flicking between the two. shane straightens her posture, the three of you closer than ever. each can feel the others breath, each knowing there’s no going back now. shane leans in, capturing ellie’s mouth, who’s moaning instantly. tongues clash, eager for more.

shane breaks away to kiss along your cheek to the corner of your mouth, her hand joining yours behind ellie’s neck, urging her to follow. ellie’s tongue swipes your lips, and shane’s. your own seeks to taste them both, the three of you releasing whimpered sounds as your tongues messily dance with each other, pushing past your lips to try and get more of you.

which is why they now have you laid back on the couch, shane and ellie kneeling on the floor between your legs. stripped bare, pushed back and spread wide. ellie’s freckle splattered cheek is smushed against shane’s, sticky and wet from the mess made between your thighs. their mouths are latched onto your swollen cunt, simultaneously eating you out as if you were the last food source on earth. tongues clash, sliding up and down your pussy, curling around the other as they dip into your folds. the slurping sounds are inescapable, making you whimper and squirm, cunt pounding harder. they trap your clit between their tongue, massaging with enough pressure to make you mewl. “oh my god,” your hands land on each other their heads, trying to push them down, to ease up the overstimulation making your stomach tense up so much, it hurt. “fuck, it’s so good,” you’re moaning, hips bucking, “feels so good.” shane slides her tongue to your sloppy hole, slipping inside, she fucks you with her tongue while ellie keeps your clit trapped between her pursed lips.

your first orgasm of the night felt different than any other you had experienced before, so intense, so filthy and intimate. you couldn’t warn them, unable to find the strength to sleep as the euphoria paralysed your mind. ellie swears she can feel your heartbeat through your clit, trembling thighs giving away your release. in the back of your head, you can hear shane moaning, or maybe it’s the vibrations against your cunt you can feel. shane can feel your soft walls clamping around her tongue and she suddenly needs her fingers inside of you. “tight fucking pussy, babe,” shane grunts, two fingers thrusting into you with ease, earning a loud moan from you, back arching as she reaches so deep inside you, “fuck, you’re so pretty,” she near whimpers, a third finger squishing inside your clenching hole.

“shane, ellie, i- fuck,” you trail off into a pathetic sob, another climax approaching so soon. ellie hasn’t let up on your poor clit, her sensational tongue playing with the sensitive little bud as if it were her favourite toy. paired with shane’s long fingers knuckle deep, rutting into your pussy at such a fast pace you’re seeing stars in the back of your head, curling up just right, battering your g-spot with each thrust. it’s too much all at once. but you like that, you squirm in pleasure at the torture you endure. the heat in your belly getting hotter and hotter, tightening, threatening to explode. shane rests against the inside of your thigh, a tired smile on her wet lips, admiring the state you were in. whimpering, shaking, on the verge of cumming. “let us have it baby, come on,” shane moans softly, feeling you tightening around her fingers, “cum for us, please baby.” she begs as if you could resist how good they make you feel.

and this is just the beginning.

if it isn’t obvious, i watched challengers the other day

[jiniretracha]

ꕤ 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 '𝟐𝟒 - 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏 ꕤ

Lee Minho x fem!reader: hate sex

summary: Lee Minho was your number one enemy and you were sure you were his as well, only for you to figure out he just wanted a little bit of your attention

warnings: smut, angst, teeny tiny bit of fluff (?)

word count: 2.1k

kinktober masterlist // masterlist // ko-fi

Felix sighed. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’ll try to do something, just don’t go. Okay?” he pleaded. “I feel like we got so comfortable with you and you’re so nice to us. It won’t be the same with another choreographer. You know us so well, you know what makes us uncomfortable, what we like to do, what we don’t… you’re special”

You smiled at the freckled boy and chuckled. “Well, thank you. At least someone makes me feel like it” 

“Because you are. Minho can be an asshole at times, but I can promise you he’s not a bad person” 

One thing you were sure of, is that you absolutely hated Lee Minho’s guts. You hated him so much it made you sick. 

He was always finding ways to be the worst part of your day, week, month and year.

You had been appointed as Stray Kids main choreographer, the job that you had dreamed of since you were little. They were one of the biggest bands in the world and you were the one creating the moves and ideas for the choreographies that were praised by millions of people. Your job was perfect and satisfied every single member and staff from the company… except for him. 

Minho was always pointing out your mistakes, embarrassing you in front of other people and making you feel out of place. It got to a point where you wanted to quit your job but Felix, being the sunshine he had always been, convinced you not to. 

“He’s making me feel like shit on a daily basis, Lix. What the hell am I supposed to do?” you cried to him, your mascara running down your cheeks. 

Felix handed you a tissue and you thanked him quietly, wiping the tears with it. “Don’t worry, Y/N. It’ll be okay, I can talk to him” he tried reassuring you.

“Oh please, like that’s gonna do anything” you muttered with a roll of your eyes. “That man won’t change being an asshole to me because you said something. Chan tried already and failed miserably”

“Okay…” you said, not wanting to argue with him about it because you knew he always tried to see the best in people, even if there wasn’t anything. 

Felix patted your back and left the studio, leaving you there with the tissue as you tried to regain your composure. 

With a sniffle, you stood up from the floor and went to the couch to grab your stuff, putting your phone inside your bag. 

The door of the studio opened with a screech and your head turned around. Your heart fell to your stomach when you locked eyes with the bane of your existence, Lee Minho. 

Your eyes instinctively rolled and you continued focusing on the task in hand: getting the hell out of there. 

“So, a little bird told me you were gonna quit” he said like it was something normal. Like he didn’t know that he was the cause of it. “I didn’t think you were that pathetic”

You snorted and shoved your jacket inside your bag before slinging it over your shoulder. “No, I’m not gonna quit. I wouldn’t dream of giving you the satisfaction” you said, walking over to the door that unfortunately was next to where he was standing. 

Before you could open the door, Minho grabbed your arm, pulling you back, making you scoff.

“Don’t touch me” you told him.

“Or what? You’re gonna cry to Felix again? Or to Chan?” he mocked you.

You could fill the rage firing up inside your veins as he spat word after word. 

Minho chuckled evilly at you. “You’re gonna go to Hyunjin, maybe? Or Changbin?” he asked. “Tell me, who are you gonna cry for attention now?” 

You slapped him with all the anger that you felt at the moment. He grabbed his cheek, staring at the side with his eyes wide, clearly not expecting that slap. 

“Shut the fuck up, you hear me? You don’t get to treat me like a slut just because you hate my guts without an apparent reason” you said. Minho turned his head and looked at you, his cheeks flushed red. You hated to admit, but he looked really cute with his eyes blown wide and his mouth slightly opened. You would’ve thought about it if you weren’t so livid. “Get out of my way and stay the hell away from me, Minho. I don’t wanna see you, talk to you or even be near you. Let’s do our job professionally by keeping things civil, it won’t require interacting with each other” you finished and your chest was heaving with uneven breaths. 

Suddenly, you felt yourself being slammed against the wall and someone grabbing you by the throat. Not hard enough to prevent you from breathing, but the pressure was there. Minho was staring at you with his nostrils heavying along with his breath. 

“You’re so fucking infuriating” he spat in your face and you could only stare at him, feeling embarrassed at how your core clenched at his tone. “You always talk back and try to be so smart with me, but you don’t fucking notice me”

“W-what?” you stammered.

Minho laughed at you and the hand that was on your throat fell down to your waist, framing it with his other one as well. He gripped your hips and pushed his against you, making you gasp as you felt his erection. 

“You don’t fucking notice me, Y/N” he whispered against your neck, and then you felt the tip of his tongue brushing over the sensitive skin of your neck. “You always try to grab the attention of Chan and Felix… but not mine” he said and then pulled away to look at your face. 

Your eyes were teary from the sudden action, but you were so aroused you could barely think.

Because the truth was that, even if Lee Minho was the person you hated the most, it wasn’t 100% only because of the unnecessary and irritating banter going on with you and him. It was because even after all the words spat in between you, you still found him incredibly handsome. 

“So why’s that, kitten?” he asked you, nose rubbing over your cheek.

You couldn’t really focus about answering, instead, your brain turned into complete mush.

“Hmm?”

“I- I don’t- I don’t know” you answered.

Minho chuckled evily and bit his lip. “Dumb baby, maybe if I put that cunt to use, you’ll start speaking. Shall we try?” he asked you.

You blinked rapidly and Minho grinned at the way you weren’t denying him at all. 

Soon, you found yourself inside the studio’s bathroom, your body pressed against the cool wall next to the door while Lee Minho, your sworn enemy, was devouring your mouth in a fiery kiss. Your arms were wrapped around his neck while you pressed your hips against his. His hands were gripping your hips trying to keep you in place while he rolled them over yours. 

“Fuck” you whispered against his lips. 

You knew you were gonna regret this later, but at that moment, you couldn’t really bring yourself to care. 

His mouth moved to your neck while his hands drifted to your leggings, gripping your ass cheeks tightly in his hands. 

You gripped his hair and panted next to his ear. “Min-Minho” you stammered.

“What, babe?” he asked, lifting his head and looking at your eyes. He then bit your lip, pulling it and releasing it. “I’ve barely touched you and you’re already fucked out…”

He then gripped the leggings you were using, making you gasp as you felt the teared clothes falling from your legs. 

“Kick off your shoes” he demanded and you obeyed, kicking them close to the sink. 

He suddenly dropped to his knees and pressed his nose against your clothed core. 

Minho sniffed and licked over your panties. “You’re soaked, kitten” he whispered, and grabbed the hem of your panties, pulling them down your long legs. 

He threw them away, without a care and draped a leg over his shoulder, exposing you to him. 

You felt your cheeks burn at the heaviness of his stare over your core. His fingers opened you and you stared at him as you saw his tongue poke out. He started licking over you, making you let out a long moan.

You squealed and jumped when you felt a sharp sting over your thigh. You looked down, finding Minho staring at you. “Don’t be too loud, we wouldn’t want anyone hearing those pretty moans” he said and then sucked on your clit. “Those are only reserved for me” he whispered and continued his assault on your pussy.

You pressed your head against the wall as he circled your hole with his tongue and played with it, inserting his tongue in and out of it while his nose was pressed tightly against your clit. 

He then groaned and stood up, pulling his belt and unbuttoning his jeans. “I swear I’ll make you come later, I need to be inside you, fuck” he said through gritted teeth. 

He took out his cock and your eyes jumped out as you stared at it. Your mouth watered as you stared at the veiny girth and how he was stroking it with desire. His hands grabbed your hips and turned you around, pressing you against the wall hardly. 

You jumped when you felt him slap your ass. His hand dove into your hair and gripped it, pulling your head back so he could stare at your face as he played with your hole with his cock. 

“Who’s taking you right now?” he asked and pushed himself inside of you, making you cry out as you adjusted to his length. You felt him slap your cheek and grip your hair more tightly in his hand. “I asked you a fucking question, kitten” 

“You… you, Minho” you answered. 

“Yeah, not Chan… not Felix” he shook his head as he pushed out, only leaving the tip and then pushing back again, hard, making the tip hit the spot. “Me…” he growled.

You could only hold on to the wall as he punished your spot with his thrusts. He slapped a hand over your mouth to muffle your moans that started getting louder by the second. 

His hand that gripped your thigh, pushed your back, making you arch even more as his foot came to rest on the lid of the toilet, finding the perfect angle that made you shut your eyes with force and bite on his hand to refrain from screaming. 

The hand that was holding your hair left to rub tight circles over your clit. “Come all over my cock, kitten, come on” he groaned, hitting the spot even harder with his thrusts. 

“Minho…” you sighed, your nails scraping against the wall. 

You gripped him tightly and exploded around him, moaning against your arm to keep the volume down. He growled as he felt your orgasm crash against his length and when he knew he wasn’t going to last any longer, he pulled out and quickly jerked himself off, his come spurting all over your ass cheeks. 

You gasped as you felt the liquid hit your skin and squeezed your thighs, feeling the action very hot. 

His hands came to brush over your body, and you felt his caresses as a pang on your chest. 

You stayed silent as you watched him grab some tissues from the corner of your eye to help you clean yourself up. 

“Um, I don’t have leggings” you told him.

“Oh, shit, right. Wait right here, I’ll be right back” he told you and left the bathroom. 

With a sigh you slumped yourself against the wall and cursed yourself for giving in to him. A few minutes passed and you decided that he had left and he wasn’t coming back. You grabbed your panties and pulled them up your legs, then sighed, decided to get out of the studio and make a fool of yourself in front of the cameras to grab your phone and ask some of the guys to bring you something to wear.

But before you could do any of those things, the door opened and Minho walked inside the bathroom, holding one of his jogging pants. 

“Here” he said, holding them out for you. 

You took them out and put them on.

“What? No thank you?” he smirked at you.

You glared at him and tied the knot over your belly. “I still hate you, you know”

Minho grabbed your jaw, forcing your head up to look at him and planted a kiss over your lips.

“We’ll see about that”

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

i hope you liked it, bc i hated it tbh

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

taglist: @annhearttihaehe // @frequentlykit // @alexisfeliz // @jeonginsleftcheek // @minghaosimp // @lixies-favorite-cookie // @yn-x-them // @chrizrizz // @madkati // @starzystay // @pancake-freckle

i apologize if i can't tag u :(

[miya-rin]

imagine being the miya twins older sister who has had suna rintarou fully enamoured with your existence since he first met you at 15 years old.

he has tried to make many moves on you over the years to no avail; sneakily trying to place his arms around your shoulder before one of your brothers notice and throw the nearest object they can grab his way. not letting you carry anything while hes around, claiming how “youll never have to lift a finger again” if you give him a chance. hell, even dropping down to the floor to tie your shoelaces the second he realises the laces have come loose, taking his time to stand back up afterwards as he slowly rakes his eyes over your figure so he can fully take in every inch of you. every attempt of his to make you swoon for him is met with “sorry sweetheart, still not into minors” and a small ruffle of his hair which gives him a dopey smile. you would think he would start to back off eventually but to your dismay every rejection you have handed to him has just made his desire for you grow stronger - he takes your words as “try again when youre 18”

which is exactly what he does. on his 18th birthday his friends decide to throw him a massive party - being the twins chaperone you had to come along and when suna set his eyes on you, you knew there was no chance of you escaping his antics. you catch him glancing at you multiple times throughout the night before he gets pulled away by one of his guests, a disappointed look in his eyes every time he had to look away from you.

after a couple of hours you decide to step outside onto the balcony to catch some fresh air seeing as there was no sign of the party dying down anytime soon. you’re outside for maybe 5 minutes when you hear the door slide open, you already know who its going to be seeing as he has been trying to catch you alone all night, you turn around to finally face the boy and he looks as ecstatic as ever.

“happy birthday suna.” you swear you can see his soul leave his body the second those words leave your mouth, its not the first time youve said it to him tonight - youre not that cruel as to not wish the poor boy a happy birthday on his special day - but everything that comes out of your mouth looks like it sends him to heaven and back.

“thankyou yn, i appreciate you being here, but then again, i know you cant spend more that a week away from me because youre just so obsessed with me.”

“wow, am i that easy to read?” you chuckle along with him, noticing the way his gaze doesnt stray away from your face while you face forward, “so, how does it feel finally being legal?”

“incredible, it means you can finally give me a chance.” he doesnt miss the way you sigh at his words.

“suna we’v-“

“i know that we’ve been over this, but i don’t really think you mean it,” this gains an eye roll from you, “plus, my one wish when i blew out my candles was that you would give me a kiss.”

“really? well i guess your going to have to go without this year.”

“it was my birthday wish, youre not gonna deny me that are you?”

“yknow if you tell your wish to someone it doesnt come true right?”

“yn…please,” his voice is barely above a whisper, he sounds desperate, “i have been waiting for three years, all i ask for is one kiss, just one.”

“i think youre forgetting that im 22 and you are freshly 18.”

“im still 18 though.”

“hm… you make a good point,” you see the way he perks up slightly at your evaluation, a hopeful look becoming more prominent in his eyes, “one kiss. let it be my official gift for the birthday boy.” you might have well as told him he had just one the lottery, anyone who walked past the sliding door would think you had due to the way his smile was so wide.

“thankyou” is all he can muster up before he is snaking his hand up your body and with a hand tangled up in your hair he leans down until his lips touch yours, you can feel the shit eating grin spread across his face as he gently moves his lips in sync with yours, pulling away slightly to whisper “best birthday ever” before leaning back in <3

[nadvs]

better off (part three) (end)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating mature 18+

summary you and rafe take time apart to try to get better for each other. it’s harder than both of you expected.

warnings toxic relationship, smut

» part one / part two

» masterlist

Rafe knew he’d see you around. He figured that he’d spot you at parties. After all, a party is where you two met.

And he knew it’d be hard to act like strangers. But not this hard.

It’s been almost a week since the day at the marina. As he watches you in the crowd across the room, he’s afraid of breaking some unwritten rule by starting a conversation with you.

You said to give it a few weeks, then you’d talk. It’s been just six days. And he’s losing his mind.

The month of silence after your break-up was hard enough. At least he was just angry then, numbing the pain. But this? Having you at an arm’s length, but leaving you alone for the sake of ‘getting better’?

He felt so stupid getting home after your conversation. He didn’t even know where to start. Staring at his ceiling. Wondering what the hell getting better even looked like.

His friends would laugh their asses off if they saw his search history. ‘How to be a good boyfriend’ has to be among the most embarrassing searches.

That stuff should just come naturally, but he’s been filling up the album named after you in his phone with screenshots. Now, piled up after his favorite photos of you are snippets from advice columns and articles.

Rafe has always felt a twinge deep in his core that he doesn’t measure up. He’s missing something that would deem him good enough. He knew from a young age from the way his anger consumed him that there was something off.

That’s why it felt like a dagger to his heart any time you told him there was something wrong with him. He hated the confirmation. And that’s why he’d say whatever he could to hurt you just as bad.

It always seemed to hit you the hardest when he said no other person would want to put up with you. You shut down whenever he said that. It gave him a sick sense of power. But that’s what he’s trying to get away from. Being sick.

It’s nerve-wracking. Knowing he’ll have to prove himself to you. Wondering if maybe after all this, you’ll come to the conclusion that you shouldn’t be together at all. You said you were bad for each other countless times throughout your relationship.

The anxiety flooding his body sharpens when he sees a guy start talking to you. And you actually start talking back.

Hot, urgent rage flares in his chest. Normally, if you were together, he’d waste no time rushing over there, pushing the idiot away and yelling at you for entertaining him for even a second.

But are you even together? While he wouldn’t be interested in talking to another girl right now, you don’t seem to feel the same way, looking pretty with a smile on your face while you talk to the stranger.

His anger is just getting worse. He needs to get the fuck out of here. He pushes past the crowds and finds himself in a bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

He’s hunched over the sink and staring at the mirror, his lips parted as he breathes heavily. He has coke in his pocket. He wants to use it.

But it always just makes him more wired and paranoid. And he thinks part of getting better is not giving into these sorts of vices. It feels like his only option for some sort of release, though.

He stands up straight, the heels of his hands over his aching eyes as he paces back and forth over the tiled floor. Crying again. It’s all his body has been wanting to do since you broke up, but he usually can find a way to stop through a bottle or a line.

“Stop,” he whispers to himself. “You’re being a fucking pussy. Stop.”

Maybe that guy isn’t a stranger to you. Maybe you’ve been talking to him, planning to leave Rafe in your past. Maybe all this being healthy alone to be healthy together shit is a game you’re playing just to abandon him in the end.

Goddamn it. He’s spiralling.

A few rapid knocks on the door pull him out of his thoughts.

“Fuck off,” he shouts.

“Are you okay?”

He flattens his lips, his heart twisting once he realizes it’s you, the only person he’d open the door for right now.

He looks at his reflection. He turns on the tap to splash cold water on his face so you can’t tell he’s been crying. But in his haste, he wets the front of his shirt too, and lets out a frustrated groan.

He swings open the door. Your eyes are full of worry. And they’re beautiful and look like home. Six days is a fucking eternity.

“Hey,” you say, your brows furrowed. “Did I cross a line or something?“

“What?” Rafe says.

“Why’d you run off after I texted you?”

He feels for his phone in his pocket and pulls it out to see a text from you. Can you save me from this guy?

“I - I didn’t see this,” he stammers. He realizes this means you don’t have him blocked anymore.

“What happened?” you say, your eyes dropping to his chest, a dark, wet splotch spread across his t-shirt.

“Did he do something?” he asks at the same time.

“You first,” you say with a small smile.

“It’s just water,” he says, quick to shift the attention back onto you. “Did he?”

You look over your shoulder, back in the direction of the front room where the party is.

“No, he was just trying to hit on me and I wasn’t in the mood,” you say. You’re relieved Rafe didn’t purposely ditch you after you texted him, like you thought.

It feels so familiar, him being so protective over you. He’s thrown quite a few punches in the name of keeping you safe and claiming you as his.

Maybe it was toxic to like watching your boyfriend swing at guys who made you uncomfortable, but you didn’t care. Other girls would try to pull their boyfriends away from fights. You would watch yours with a smile on your face.

You meet Rafe’s eyes again. Even though you’re the one who told him you wouldn’t speak for a while, you were worried you messed something up by contacting him. But he looks anguished over missing a message from you.

For once, the struggle for dominance between you doesn’t feel like a struggle at all. He so obviously just wants to be good with you again. You hold all the power.

“Don’t stress. It’s fine,” you say sympathetically. “He finally left me alone.”

You don’t tell him you told the pushy guy you were going to look for your boyfriend. Because while you feel optimistic about what the future holds for you and Rafe, you can’t say you’re entirely confident you can both do this. And calling him your boyfriend again feels like too much right now.

The more you think about it, the more you realize just how broken you both are. You’ve been reading about how important it is to learn the underlying reasons for toxic behavior. And the two of you never liked facing your demons.

Rafe shuffles in place. It’s nice to be talking to him again, but by how stiff he seems, you’re doubting that he shares the sentiment.

“Why were you smiling at him?” he mutters.

The edge to his tone and the hard way he’s looking at you throw you right back to when you were dating. To the dread you’d feel when you knew an argument was starting.

“I was being polite,” you say.

“Polite,” he huffs. “If you want to keep your options open, you can just fucking say that.”

That. That’s what keeps you from allowing yourself to slip into the warm comfort of hope. You didn’t expect a change overnight, but this is the exact same man who left you on the marina.

Jealous. Domineering. Combative. No improvement at all.

“Are you hearing yourself?” you say, bitterness swirling in you. “I literally texted you asking you to rescue me.”

“You were giving him attention,” he says, “and then what, he said something you didn’t like and you decided to stop ‘being polite’? If you want to talk to other guys, own up to it.“

Frustration tenses through your muscles.

“I don’t want to talk to other guys,” you state. “I told you, I want to be healthy on my own first.”

“Sure,” he scoffs. You know this feeling all too well, the sense of betrayal when he dismisses you and acts like you’re making shit up.

“So, I’m lying?” you mutter.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he says. He notices you flinch in embarrassment.

He’s still holding it over you, the way you let him believe you had someone new after you broke up.

You were wrong. The power struggle between you is still very much alive.

“This is exactly why we shouldn’t be talking,” you snap. The ugly impulse to be mean to him rises in you. “This is you trying to better yourself? Dick.”

You turn around to walk away. He hates himself for it. The fear of being left is such a powerful force, always taking him captive, always making him act possessively.

But he’s not wrong. You were smiling at that guy. And you have lied in the past.

He calls your name. You ignore him.

The next morning, you sit on your front porch with your phone in your hand. Rafe texted you early this morning.

Need to work on my jealousy. I know.

It’s weird, witnessing him admit to a wrongdoing. It’s not a sorry. But it’s something.

And despite your rash words, you’re proud of yourself for walking away last night. The old you would’ve stuck around for a screaming match. But you don’t want to be the old you anymore.

You finally reply: i shouldn’t have called you that.

He texts back: I deserved it.

You put your phone down. The exchange was stiff and almost formal, a far cry from how you’d normally speak to each other, but it feels like a step in the right direction.

Days pass. Rafe wishes you replied. He said he deserved it just so you’d say he didn’t.

But he used to do this a lot; saying or doing things just to get a specific reaction out of you. That might be part of what makes him sick.

The next weekend, you don’t see Rafe at your mutual friend’s beach party. It’s strange, considering he hardly ever misses an opportunity to get drunk with his buddies.

You look over to his group of friends for what feels like the hundredth time. He’s not there.

You were looking forward to seeing him. Maybe even talking to him. It’s been two weeks since you decided to try to better yourselves, and even though he hasn’t technically been your boyfriend for a month and a half now, missing him never gets easier.

You pull out your phone every so often, going back and forth between if you should text him. You check his social accounts, having unblocked him and refollowed him a few days ago, to see he hasn’t posted anything lately.

Step by step, you’re making space for him in your life again. Really, the space he once filled never went away. It’s just an empty void now.

This time apart idea is stupid.

You stop yourself from indulging in the thought. You did all the time back when you were dating - it becomes addictive to tell yourself whatever you were fighting over wasn’t a big deal. That you should just be happy to be with Rafe. That the issues don’t matter.

Maybe he didn’t ever really validate you, but you were bad at doing it for yourself, too. You need to remind yourself that this break is important.

But is it so bad to check up on him? Make sure he’s alright?

You pull out your phone and text him: You doing okay?

Your heart drops when the text immediately comes up as undelivered. He blocked you.

After every argument, if anyone blocked anyone, it always was you blocking him. He’d try to find other ways to contact you, sometimes even finding one of your friends on social media to ask to talk to you.

As you stand with your friends, you pretend to scroll through your phone, trying not to cry. One recurring theme in your relationship was that he always accused you of not really caring that much about him, at least not as much as he cared about you.

Your nasty habit of blocking him must be part of the reason why. Because this feeling of outright rejection, of someone clearly showing you they don’t want to hear whatever you want to say, stings.

You liked the power trip of when you blocked him because he always did whatever he could to talk to you again. And you realize just how fucked up that was.

You find an excuse to rush home, not wanting to even mention to your friends why you’re choked up. They’re already apprehensive about you and Rafe actually being able to have a healthy relationship.

You spend the rest of your night in your bed, crying because you and Rafe really did bring out the worst in each other. Because he might have decided he’s done with you and this idea of getting better for each other is not worth the effort.

Your pillow is wet with your tears by the time you finally fall asleep.

You try to spend the next day reading and journalling and imagining a life without Rafe. After the break-up, you were miserable, but you knew separating was what was best.

Now, after the promise you made each other to try to get better, it hurts so much more. You were hopeful. And he shattered that.

You’re desperate to feel the way you used to. When things were good. Your love could be bitter, but when it was sweet, it was incredible.

You once sat on the beach together well past midnight for hours, talking and laughing and cuddling as the waves crashed in front of you.

Now, every conversation turns into a fight. Why does this have to be so hard?

It’s a Thursday night when Rafe thinks about driving up to your spot. It’s a secluded, narrow trailhead that cars can’t get through.

You’d wrap your arms around him so tightly whenever he drove his motorcycle up the pathway. Once he reached the peak, which offers a vista of the island, boasting the beaches as well as the town, you’d sit on a blanket on the ground over the cliffside.

It was almost always quiet up there, a nice break from how loud things always feel for him. You two thought you were the only ones in the world who knew about the place, but other people have left pieces of their own memories there, empty beer bottles scattered around.

Thankfully, though, you’ve never run into anyone else up there.

He remembers one night, sitting next to you, thinking that he genuinely preferred you over everyone, even preferred you over being alone.

He realizes you never fought up there. Not once.

Rafe counts. It’s been eighteen days since your conversation at the marina. You said to take a few weeks. Almost three should be enough. He hopes.

He unblocks your number and texts you: Down to go to our spot? I can pick you up.

The anxiety as he waits for your response is almost paralyzing. Then, you reply: ok.

Holding Rafe again while on the back of his bike, smelling him, feeling his warmth, makes your chest tighten with the threat of tears.

You didn’t say much when you hopped on. You don’t say anything when you make it to the hill’s peak. You watch him grab the blanket he always carries in his bike’s rear trunk, bunched up in his big hands.

It’s all a fluid motion, working together how you always did before, flattening the blanket over the patches of dirt and grass and sand.

Rafe always got freaked out when you got too close to the edge, so you sit closer to the blanket’s far corner for his comfort.

He sits a foot away from you, his legs bent, arms resting on his knees. You haven’t looked at each other for longer than a second.

The sun is setting soon. The air is thick between you. It’s like you’re both afraid of breaking the silence.

You lick your lips, gazing out at the orange horizon of where sky meets sea. You see him look at you from your peripheral vision. You turn to meet his gaze.

You finally say what’s been turning over in your head for the past few days.

“Are we done?” you say weakly.

Rafe mournfully breathes your name, sounding defeated when he says, “You tell me.”

Normally, and probably aggressively, you’d ask him why he’s being difficult. But after so much time reflecting, you know he’s not trying to be. He actually thinks it’s on you.

Every time he muttered that you wouldn’t find someone who cared like he does. Every time he hounded you after you told him to stop talking to you. Every time he insinuated that you’re either considering cheating or have already cheated. It was his own poisonous way of trying to keep you.

Because now, you can see just how painfully insecure Rafe is. And it’s not on you to fix that. But it explains a lot.

And now, when he tells you that you’re the one who decides the fate of your relationship, you get why. He’s always been the one clinging onto you, but refusing to be vulnerable about it.

You hope he can be vulnerable now. And you’re willing to go first.

“How come you blocked me?” you say softly.

“You tried to text me?” He straightens. He looks genuinely surprised that you reached out first.

You get why. You never reached out first before.

“Yeah,” you say. “I wanted to check up on you.”

“It’s stupid,” he begins. “I wanted to text you but you said we can’t talk, so I blocked you and sent texts that couldn’t actually get to you.“

Your lips quirk in a sad smile. You did the same thing in your own way, writing down everything you wished you could say to him in your journal.

It was an exercise you read about online; saying what you want to say to your ex without committing to them actually hearing it. You wonder if he read that article, too.

“It’s not stupid,” you say. “Can I see them?”

“Some of them are…” Rafe looks away. “I was really pissed off when I wrote some of them.”

“That’s okay,” you say. “Mine aren’t all nice, either.”

His forehead crinkles, clearly taken aback again by the fact that you wrote him messages, too.

“I wrote what I wanted to say to you in a notebook,” you explain. “You don’t have to show me if you don’t want to.”

“I can,” he offers. “Just don’t get mad at me.”

You can’t promise that, so you stay quiet when he pulls out his phone. He hands it to you and you tap in his passcode, still the same numbers, and open his texts.

You see a glimpse of a message from his friends’ group chat. Someone simply texted: sure. And even though it’s mundane, it’s still so weird not knowing about Rafe’s day and his life and his plans.

You open your conversation. There’s a string of undelivered texts. You scroll to the top and take a deep breath.

Friday, 5:46 pm

It sucks not talking to you.

Saturday, 3:01 am

You think youre so mmuch better than me and it oisses me the fuck k off

You can tell he was drunk writing that one.

Sunday, 12:11 pm

I would take back a lot of the shit I did if I could

“What would you take back?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” Rafe says tensely. “A lot.”

Despite everything, you watch him through disappointed eyes. He would do this all the time as your boyfriend, act like an emotional conversation was corny and embarrassing.

He notices how sad you look. So, he pushes through for you.

“Like… I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he says.

“I yelled at you, too,” you say, offering him anything you can during this moment of vulnerability.

“I scared you sometimes.” His eyes flit away. “You tried to act like you weren’t fazed, but I know I scared you. I’m sorry.”

The apology almost throws you off.

“Yeah,” you say after a beat. There’s no point in being dishonest.

You continue reading.

Sunday, 9:20 pm

I always fought to make this work and you never did. I always fucking cared more

Monday, 4:44 pm

I think about you every second. I’m going crazy

Tuesday, 9:57 am

I miss your laugh

Tuesday, 3:01 pm

I wonder if you noticed

You meet his eyes, immediately seeing the pink tinge on his cheeks, even though the sky is dark orange now that the sun is now seconds away from setting. He’s embarrassed, likely from how raw and exposed he must feel.

“If I noticed what?” you ask.

“That I wasn’t at that party last weekend,” he admits. He knew you were there because he asked his friends.

“I noticed,” you say. “That’s when I texted you. Where were you?”

“Home,” he says curtly as he reaches for his phone.

“I’m not done,” you say, looking back down at the screen. His body tightens in minor irritation. This just feels like humiliation now, especially if you’re not planning to stay with him.

Tuesday, 11:30 pm

Obviously I love you and it’s so annoying every time you say I don’t say it enough

Your brows pinch in sadness. Now that so much time has passed, you feel bad for every time you guilt-tripped him about not saying it back.

Yesterday, 1:20 pm

To be honest I would choose being sick together over being healthy alone because at least I’d have you

The next message is the last one.

Today, 10:22 am

I just wish I was good enough

You realize your eyes have started to burn with tears. Rafe’s not simply insecure. Now, you’re almost sure he feels a sense of inferiority.

It tracks. He likes to pretend he thinks he’s better than everyone, bragging all the time. But the more you think about it, the more it seems forced in retrospect.

He acts like he’s above people because deep down, he feels like he’s below them.

“You’re more than good enough,” you tell him. You give him back his phone. “I promise.”

Rafe nods, looking away, clearly tense and awkward.

You spent your whole relationship fighting each other for the upper hand, but now you’re trying to figure out how to give it to him so he’s not embarrassed.

“The last thing I wrote down was that I hope we find our way back,” you confess.

Blue eyes land on yours. His expression has softened.

“What else?” His voice is rough, almost strained.

“You want to know everything?”

“Yeah.”

You look out at the view again, crickets chirping, thinking about all that you’ve wanted to tell him. The breeze is gentle and the remaining sliver of the sun nestles into the horizon.

“I used to feel good about myself around you, and then at some point, I just… I really didn’t like who I was, Rafe.”

It makes everything in him hurt. But then, you continue.

“I blamed you and I shouldn’t have,” you continue. “We both fought unfairly, but you didn’t bring anything out of me that wasn’t already there. I’m sorry that I made it your fault when I was mean.”

He blinks, nodding, staring at your profile as you continue to speak.

“I didn’t like how controlling and jealous you could get,” you admit. “You didn’t trust me and it hurt. I never actually did anything to make you question my loyalty, did I?”

Rafe chews on his lip. Tears prick at his eyes.

“No,” he says.

“And we had a bad habit of, like… of trying to prove each other’s feelings wrong,” you say. “But if we hurt each other, we need to just accept it instead of arguing about it, you know?”

“I know.”

“We did bring out the worst in each other,” you say. “And I hope we can bring out the best. Because we were best friends before, remember? And then we just started trying to hurt each other. And I don’t want that for us.”

You feel the shift in the air between you immediately.

You meet Rafe’s gaze again in the dark summer air. Even though every other time he said this, it took effort, this time, he has to try not to say it. But why would he not say it?

“I love you,” he says.

Your lips part as you take in a short inhale of disbelief. It kills him to see how shocked you look to hear it.

But some things can never change and that includes how he prefers to show his love. He was always more action-oriented. So, he moves closer and gently cradles your jaw, his thumb rubbing over your cheek.

“Please let me kiss you,” he mumbles.

You leaning forward is your invitation and when his lips press on yours, your body feels weightless. You can’t remember the last time you touched this tenderly.

It’s the polar opposite of when you had what you thought was break-up sex. Your contact isn’t rough and angry at all. It’s soft like it’s the first time.

Rafe pulls back, his forehead against yours when a tear finally drops off his chin.

“I love you, too,” you whisper. His features crease in relief. You can tell he wasn’t expecting you to say it back.

“And you don’t have to say it to me all the time,” you say. “You’ve proven it. You’ve really been trying to get better for me. I can tell.”

He kisses you again, more impatiently this time. He missed this, missed you so much that it’s like he was lost without any hope of getting back home but now, he can breathe. Really breathe.

When he feels your tongue against his, his entire body reacts, getting hot and tight and hungry. He can sense that you feel the same when a whimper escapes you.

Rafe shifts and plants his hot mouth on your neck, still embracing your cheek as you tilt your head to give him full access.

The air around you is cool and dark now and you wonder if he wants to go all the way like you do. You’d hear someone coming up the trail and would definitely see headlights, so you’re not afraid of being caught.

You’re not afraid of anything. Not when he holds you like this.

You run a hand over the back of his neck, gently scratching the way you know he likes. He can’t take it anymore.

Rafe guides you onto your back, hovering over you, blanketing you with his weight.

“Should I stop?” he asks, breaths shallow.

“Don’t,” you say. “Don’t stop.”

A rush rips through you when you feel his hard excitement against you.

He wants you completely bare, but he can’t risk being caught out here, so he shifts to take off only what he needs to.

When he sinks into you, you’re both breathless and kissing through his thrusts. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, tilting your hips so he can fill you completely, be inside you as deep as possible.

“I’ll do anything,” he whispers against your mouth. “Just don’t leave again. Please.”

“I won’t,” you promise. “You’re everything I want, okay? You were always everything I wanted.”

Hearing that repairs the remaining cracks in his heart. He kisses you hard and for the first time in his life, he cries from happiness.

It’s slow and loving and the most gentle you’ve ever been with each other. Afterwards, he helps you get dressed again, kissing your skin wherever he can.

With your hearts still racing, you sit facing the view, his body curved behind yours as you lean with your back against his chest.

His fingers run over yours, stroking and rubbing and pinching, kissing your cheek again and again out of pure adoration under the moonlight.

“We won’t be perfect,” you tell him. “We’ll mess up. But I want to make sure you know I won’t give up.”

“Neither will I, baby,” he says. “I never did.”

Even though his methods weren’t always the healthiest, it’s true. He’s what kept you together, time and time again, as if he knew deep down that you two could be good together if you just tried.

You’ve never felt so solid with him before. You bring the back of his hand up to your mouth, kissing him.

It’s such a soft, loving gesture that Rafe has to tell himself not to cry again. It wasn’t a heat of the moment thing; he meant it when he said he’d do anything for you.

You own him. Completely. And he’s lucky that you want him back.

“I feel so lucky to have you,” you say.

“I was just thinking that,” he says with a chuckle.

You laugh and kiss the back of his hand again.

And you spend the next couple of hours talking and joking together just like that night on the beach months ago, except this time, you’re better people determined to get even better.

(the end) (alternate sad ending)

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[steddieas-shegoes]

assistant to the dm, steve harrington

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'secretly studying nerd shit' rated t | 1,361 words | cw: mild language | tags: friends to lovers, getting together, d&d references (could be inaccurate since i don't actually play), banter that's also flirting

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"I just don't understand why you needed to borrow my character sheets. You don't even know what most of this means," Dustin said as he handed over the papers.

"I just need to see something," Steve replied, taking the papers and adding it to his mess of a kitchen table. Other character sheets were strewn all over, most filled out, but some empty. A couple of books were open on random pages, recognizable images of weapons and monsters visible to anyone who walked by.

"Why does it look like you're studying for a college degree in D&D?" Dustin asked.

Steve looked up at him, eyes blank, mouth in a straight line. "Because I finally got accepted to Indiana State. Go away."

"Fine! I want those sheets back though!" Dustin said as he left Steve to his studying.

Hours must have passed, the light outside turning to dusk before Steve thought to take a break. His head hurt, his vision was blurry, and he didn't feel any closer to understanding a god damn thing.

He thunked his head against the table, letting out pained groan as his head throbbed.

"Are you looking for something or have you decided to finally play with us?" Eddie's voice said directly behind him, making him nearly fall out of his seat. "Shit, sorry. Thought you heard me come in."

Eddie's hands were on Steve's arms, squeezing, centering.

Like he knew exactly what he needed to lose the slight hint of remaining panic left in his chest.

"I was just trying to figure out if there actual dragons in this game or if that was also made up," Steve said, sitting back and putting distance between them. He couldn't breathe when Eddie was touching him, which was often. He was starting to worry about oxygen deprivation to his brain. "Disappointed to find out the dungeons part seems like it's up to the DM."

"The whole thing is pretty made up, Stevie. That's the point," Eddie smirked, but it fell away when Steve turned back to the messy table. "Are you, like, wanting to play?"

And this is why he wanted to keep it a secret. Maybe he shouldn't have had everything spread out in the open like this, but he'd assumed he was safe in his own home. With the door locked. And with Eddie supposedly playing the Hideout tonight.

He looked back at Eddie. "Why are you here?"

"Dustin said something about you not answering the phone after he left hours ago and you seemed pissed off or something," Eddie shrugged. "Just wanted to check on you."

"The phone? It didn't ring." Steve didn't think so anyway. He had admittedly tuned his surroundings out entirely once Dustin was gone. "But it's Tuesday."

"Uh huh. It is Tuesday. How long have you been sitting at this table?"

"Ha. Funny." Steve rolled his eyes. "You play the Hideout Tuesdays. Tuesdays are for Corroded Coffin, Wednesdays are for dinner with Wayne, and Thursdays are Hellfire."

Eddie blinked at him. "Yes, usually that's true. But, wait. Sorry. You have my schedule memorized?"

"I mean, some of it, yeah. The parts where I know you won't be nearby or easily reached."

Steve knew it was ridiculous, but how the hell could he make sure he was safe if he didn't even know what Eddie was doing?

Eddie looked like he wanted to say something else about it, but must have changed his mind. He pulled out the chair next to Steve, turned it towards him, and sat down.

"So you've been studying this stuff for..." Eddie leaned in, eyebrows raised in silent question.

"I dunno. A few weeks. I didn't have most of the sheets until a couple days ago though," Steve gestured towards the papers spread out. "I still don't really get it."

"You've been studying for weeks? Stevie, why didn't you just ask me or any of the kids to help explain it?" Eddie almost sounded hurt. "I've been playing for half my life! And I've been a DM for half of that!"

Truthfully, Steve was trying to learn so he could have conversations with Eddie about the stuff he liked. That was basically lesson number one on how to get someone to like you, and Steve had already tried the music thing and failed.

He just wasn't that into the echo of loud guitars and angry drums.

He couldn't exactly ask Eddie to teach him everything and then turn around and try to use what he taught him to flirt with him. That was lame and embarrassing.

"Steve?" Eddie had his hand on Steve's leg, leaning in further towards Steve. He must've been trying to get Steve's attention while he was lost in thought. "I'm kidding. I mean, I wish you'd said something sooner, but if this is how you get into it, I'm not gonna stop you."

"I just wanted to surprise you."

Steve could hear how pitiful that sounded, could hear the whine in his voice that he wasn't able to pull his plan off. As if Eddie would even care! Eddie was the most easygoing, laidback, chaotic person he'd ever met. He would just be happy to have someone else in his little club.

"Surprise me? For what?"

He was also incredibly slow when it came to feelings.

"Because I want to spend more time with you! Because I like you! Because I want you to like me!" Steve tried not to sound frustrated, but his headache was turning into a real problem, and he was tired, and sick of hiding things. Robin told him to just be honest, so he was. "I wanted to surprise you the next time Hellfire was here and have all this knowledge, but it's hard! I don't even know how you keep up with most of this, let alone all the characters? There's like...at least 800 options for how to use weapons and spells. I can't even remember half the races or classes or whatever. I don't even know if those are the same thing. And I keep getting distracted thinking about how you look when you stand at the end of the table and do one of those stupid accents."

"Are they stupid if they're this distracting?" Eddie was smirking, suddenly more confident than Steve had maybe ever seen him.

"They are stupid. That's why it's distracting. And I'm stupid for letting it get to me!" Steve leaned forward, put his head on Eddie's shoulder. The angle wasn't the best, but he didn't care. "You get to me so bad, Munson."

"You're kinda easy to get to, Harrington." Eddie's lips briefly pressed against the side of Steve's head. "Been waiting for you to catch up."

"What do you mean?" Steve pulled away. "I've been trying to get you to realize for months!"

"You came to one show at the Hideout. I think Robin's been to more shows and she's a lesbian."

"She told you?!"

"Steve, she spilled every secret she's ever had when she kept me company in the hospital. I think I know things you don't even know."

Steve let his head fall down against Eddie's shoulder again. "I should've known you were teaming up."

"I wouldn't call it that. She just wanted to look out for us," Eddie's hand cupped the back of Steve's head. "So what did you learn?"

"Probably nothing useful."

"Well, it's easier to be an active learner. I could use an assistant on Thursday if you want some hands on experience," Eddie's fingers scratched at Steve's scalp, melting his brain and making him feel like he was completely weightless. "If you just wanna watch, that can be arranged too."

"You don't let people watch," Steve mumbled against his shoulder, his weight sagging against Eddie.

"I think I can bend my own rule for my boyfriend, right?" Steve could feel Eddie's heartbeat quickening beneath his ear.

His face felt warm as he realized what Eddie was implying. "Only if your boyfriend can sit next to you."

"I think that can be arranged."

"Oh, and I'd like to trap Dustin's character."

Eddie snorted, kissed Steve's head again. "That can be arranged, too."