#for both of your sakes BREAK UP

[demigod-shenanigans]

The thing about this scene is also that it’s just. Really stupid? Like yes listening to people is important and stuff but if Leo can find their kid that will mean a lot more than if he just listens to them about how sad they are that she’s gone?? Calypso is clearly talking about something else entirely that’s not even applicable to this specific situation it’s extremely strange

A relationship should not make you feel like you need to fundamentally change yourself to stay in it. They both just seem genuinely miserable when they’re around each other. Why are they staying together?

Calypso, babes, he’s autistic. This is just how he processes the world. Leave him alone.

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

probably will be FORCED by Pomp And Circumstance to go to the CLOWN HOSPITAL, for a CLOWN INJURY (may or may not be An ALLEGEDLY Fractured Foot...a MOURNFUL MALADY incurred in the most PATHETIC and LAPSIDAISICAL Fashion of TRAGICALLY UNFASHIONABLY Events......

Anyway. Forgot what I was saying. Buy me 1/25th of an x-ray or whatnot I guess

[daemonbrain]

"One of me is cute but two though!"

2.4k, cw: breeding kink, smut, kinda baby trapping (?), not proofread

a/n: based off Juno by Sabrina Carpenter hehe happy reading :)

Simon would go to the ends of the earth for his bird. You wanted to watch your favorite movie for the millionth time with him? Done. You were craving take out from that special spot across town in the middle of the night? He’s placing your order and grabbing his keys to go pick it up after a quick goodbye kiss. You wanted him to kill a little red-haired prick who got too close to you -grazed your arm- yesterday at 17:37 while in a crowded line when he went to the loo, with his bare hands? Fan-tastic. (He may be projecting a little)

But he was worried. He might not be the most perceptive man, but he wasn’t so thick headed he couldn’t see the signs.

The way you made googly eyes at every baby you passed by. Fuck sakes he had never seen so. many. babies. 

Little things everywhere nowadays, though it might just be he’s now paying enough attention to notice. It definitely helped the unintentional search that your grip on his arm tightened every time you saw one. Your soft coos as you turned to him to say for a third time in a row that the babe was the “cutest thing you had ever seen”.

He loved you like he loved his gun after it got him out of a tough spot (he loved you more, but he's pretty poor at putting an example on it), but there was one thing he was wholly unsure he could give you. Being a father has never been something he was sure of, his own making his childhood a living hell assuring him that it wasn’t in his genes or anywhere in his future. He came to terms with that years ago and shoved the idea out of his mind entirely. 

As you both sat down at a coffee shop while taking a break from your park walk, you just happened to get seated right next to another woman, a stroller in your direct view.

Fuckin’ great.

Biting your lip you take a peek at the chubbiest little thing in a deep sleep. Catching the gaze of the mother you smile. “She’s adorable” you chirped. 

As the mother responded with a smile of her own, Simon felt a foot gently nudging his leg as gave him the prettiest eyes. Did you even try to hide it anymore? No, you really didn’t. Eyes filled with thinly veiled intentions, eyes that said “Look how cute! Jump across this table and give me one now,” 

“Isn’t she cute Si?!”

He sighed and replied in his usual grumble, “course, ‘er little jumper is nice.” Tactics. Swiftly move out from the topic and do not let the missus see the little bows… on the jumper… he just pointed- for fucks sake you saw it.

After quite some time giggling with the mother over photos, because of course that had to be the natural progression of things, Simon observed in his characteristic shadow-like demeanor before the little one began to fuss in her sleep. The mother excused herself and the babe to nurse and it’s then you finally turn back to your silent companion with your usual beaming.

“ ‘avin fun there, yeah?” He laughed which came out more as a snort as you mockingly kicked him under the table.

“I am as a matter of fact!”

Pulling his hands into the air in surrender he looks you head on. “Okay, I get it.”

“The baby was just so- ugh! Did you see how chubby she was? Her little hair.. Gosh!” Stay on task. Do not get distracted by the target's beautiful smile or laugh. Someone had to be the voice of rationale after all.

“Like I said ‘er jumper was nice, luv.”

When the pout came to your lips, he considered it a success (you were hot either way) and chalked the whole thing as a minor bump in the road. Whatever this baby fever was would pass.

Nonetheless, he should’ve known his bird better than that. She wasn’t a quitter, that’s for damn sure. As you cooked up dinner in that cute apron and served it plated up so nicely it dawned on him just how… domestic this all was.

It was nice, he concluded. Calm.

You remained pensive and quiet for the most part during dinner, clearly desperate to say what you had been on your mind for weeks. He could see the way your mind's gears turned, wanting to blurt it out. Like an animal going feral at the bars of its cage. Except your the animal and your cage is the inherent trust you will not go awol and chuck your birth control pills into the trash while he’s not watching.

“Simon…” 

Here it comes.

Simon grunted out his response while chewing on his food, looking up to meet your cautious gaze. Leaning across the table you gently lay your hand on his which held his fork, pushing it down.

“I’ve been thinking… a lot lately.” There you went with that look again. “Have you… ever thought of kids before? I- I know we’ve had this talk before… but-”

“C’mere.”

He outstretched his big arms and patted his lap. With quick acceptance you hurried over and let him pull you on top of him, one hand on the back of his chair and the other on your ass for support. The deep kneading of it was also for support of course. 

“You know how I feel about them. ‘Is jus not somethin I think about, luvie.” He didn’t dare look away from your eyes. If he was about to take that gleam out of your eyes he at least owed it to you to watch.

You grabbed his face with a light touch and caressed the stubble which had begun to grow with a look beginning to resemble a spot of desperation. Pressing yourself further into his body, you couldn’t help your protests.

“Si.. I just- I want one so bad.” You began to slide your hand down the side of his neck, pressing forward to gently place a kiss. Leaning your forehead in the junction between his shoulder and neck you continued before he could respond.

“Don’t you? A little baby with us all the time.”

Someone had to be the voice of reason and Simon was going to have to put his foot down on this.

“You’re not thinkin straigh’, luv. It would be cute-” He was cut off in shock as he felt the slight rock of your hips as you cowered into his shoulder.

“Just imagine it! One of me is cute enough, but two!” The pace began to speed up as you blatantly started grinding against him. He let out a little huff. Voice of reason. Though his reason was nowhere to be found when he put his hand that was idly on the chair to your backside to encourage the movement.

You knew what came next, you had to sweeten the pot. You knew you were being mean, but you just had to! You were practically given no choice!

“Don’t you want that Si! Don’t you wanna make something together?” You all but pleaded. He looked straight past your head with a crumbling steely demeanor. Fuck.

You already began to tug at his shirt and with a final glare, Simon couldn’t help but look at his pretty bird. His pretty bird on top of the prize she coveted, heat passing between their bodies. Just one time. One time and then they could talk about this properly. 

Simon gathered you up in his arms and stood while pressing an eager kiss to your lips. It was a soft and long thing as he brought you both to the bedroom you shared. He threw you down on the bed and stripped himself as you excitedly did the same.

Smiling up at him as if you won. You did not win. This was not a win, right? You were on your birth control either way, he would pull out as needed. What harm is there in fucking his own girl.

Pushing you on to your back he parted your legs to look what lay between them. There was the prize he was most proud of. Puffy cunt at the mercy of the cool air being pushed out by the vents. You were already beginning to shine.

“You were just waiting for it weren’t you? Knew I couldn’t leave you hanging, yeah?”

With a giggle you spread your thighs further and wiggled your hips teasingly. Simon dropped to his knees and pulled your body to the edge of the bed. Throwing each of your legs on either of his shoulders he spit into your cunt, taking two thick fingers and rubbing it in, catching on to your hole lightly as he played with the slick. He could see the way your stomach tightened as he circled your clit and he winded you up further when he firmly flicked it.

“Si” you whined.

“Wha’ is it?” He grinned as he lowered his head to press a kiss down. Devolving from a kiss, he grabbed onto one of your thighs with a strong grip and began to sloppily lick while you let out your breathy little moans, sensitive to the absolute tank holding you still as he ate straight from the source.

He licked and it just kept going. Dragging his tongue around your cunt, up to your puffy clit. He harshly sucked as he latched on to it drawing a cry from your vulnerable form. Tugging at his hair, he only looks up with his eyes, refusing to pull away his mouth. 

Shaking your head with wide eyes you couldn’t help but push your fluffy little agenda.

“Si please. Please. Please, I need it! I’d never ask for anything else-” you moaned in surprise once again as he added a finger into your hole. Willing himself to pull away from you, Simon continued to fuck his finger into you as he spoke up, spittle and slick coating his mouth. He had to switch gears, use logic (and cum) to deter you.

“We’d never have time. All this?-” He added another finger into your clenching pussy “Gone. We’d be cleaning spit up instead.”

“We’d have a baby!” You exclaimed insistently.

You were practically off the edge, usually by now Simon had you fucked into your own little world. This incessant begging for a little one of your own is keeping you sharper than usual. He’d fix that.

“Please Simon” You pulled him up, the strain of his cock to be inside you encouraging him to follow your movements. He looked at you pretty tits, pretty like everything else on you. Taking a nipple between his fingers and rolling hard.

“These’d get all full.”

Fuck that backtracked his own point. His mind fighting back the onslaught of thoughts at the sight of your tits growing round and heavy because of something he could do. Would your body get all soft- NO.

Lining himself up and looking at that pleading expression, the only time he’d ever seen you so wanting of something you were willing to roll around with nothing else on your mind.

“Just one Si, just one with your eyes your nose your hair-” Your breath went short as he pushed himself in, giving shallow thrusts to feed into your aching cunt. Recomposing yourself you gripped on to his bicep, “Just do it, lock me down tonight.”

Simon couldn’t help the way he subconsciously began pushing your thighs up to give himself a deeper angle, your ankles dangling weightlessly above your head, knees to your chest. The groans which sounded through the room as his hips hammered into you in a desperate chase. 

The two of you could do nothing but stare into each other's eyes, losing yourselves in each other while your cunt squeezes him like a vice. Determined to keep him there, body obstinately stuck on one thing.

 Someone had to be the voice of reason. Someone had to object to a little one with his eyes and your personality. Someone had to be rational and not think about painting the nursery while you waddled about. Someone had to remain level-headed and not imagine the way your eyes would light up with unfettered joy.

You tossed your head back and he couldn’t help but grip your face in his hand, tugging it right back to him.

“With me luv, with me. Look at me.”

Someone had to be rational.

Nodding your head shakily you keep your eyes on the massive man pounding away at you, feeling the way your stomach bulges trying to accommodate all of him, your cunt coaxing him further into the sticky trap.

Your body begging for one thing, you looked like you needed it. Tongue lolling out of your mouth as you were fucked stupid, sweat collecting on your brow. You looked perfect. Your whining swallowed by his own mouth when he presses another kiss to your swollen lips, body enduring in hopes the fat cock ruthlessly disturbing its peace would grant it the big load it craved.

Someone had to be rational?

Maybe it was the way you sucked him in, the way he couldn’t stop thrusting into you, but it’s as if your body sent some message to the receptors in his mind. All that flashed before him images of happy and full and with his baby.

As if you could sense his thoughts, your own peak quickly overcame you white hot. The way you spasmed around him with a loud cry of pure ecstasy.

“Give it to me!” You somehow managed. His mind went blank as drunk off the pleasure as you were, the only thing he could do was thrust, unable to comprehend anything else.

 A shame Simon couldn’t be rational when it came to his bird.

With the final slam of his hips, his release went into the deepest depths of you. His grip on your hips burning from how tight it was as he kept himself flush against you.

It took a few moments to come down from the high. Simon looked at your sweaty face, hazy from lack of energy. Maybe you did win this one, but he really didn't get all this effort (not that he was complaining) if you were still on birth control.

Birth control... which he hasn't had to remind you to take for quite some time...

Out of pure curiosity at his realization, he gently pushed the two of you further up the bed while keeping you plugged up. Opening the first drawer he manages to grab the box which contained your birth control pills. Upon further inspection, he notices it remains unopened and untouched. Shaking his head with a gruff laugh he peers down at you as you shiver from the rumble.

“Dirty girl”

You just smiled.

[thots-n-prayers-2137]

wow. really nice to see someone react to my tags like this

breakup songs are so lame now sorry i feel like every charting breakup song you hear these days is like waah you left me but whatever you sucked anyway and im way too hot for you and too cool. why cant anyone be miserable anymore. no more im killing myself because you left music on the radios?!?!

[webism]

pornstar!satoru and pornstar!suguru managing to talk you into letting them both fuck you at the same time on film—a double penetration scene.

apparently, after a few... lewd images of the three of you together were leaked by a blue-eyed attention whore who swears he didn't mean to edit, upload and caption them before posting them on his main twitter, your combined audiences have started begging for video content of the three of you. and what better than a filthy threesome to spark the flame of your three-way-affairs?

it's how you end up riding suguru, feeling his cock so deep inside of you that you swear he's in your stomach. your hands find purchase on his muscled pecs as you ride him to the brink of orgasm; sweat coats your skin, his too, and as it is with suguru, your moans aren't played up for the sake of porn: they're raw and real and so loud as he encourages your sounds with a finger circling over your clit.

those at home watching the pair of you, only one hand free as they stroke or finger or rub themselves in time with each thrust of Suguru's hips up into you, are all met with the sight of satoru walking into frame. cock hard and big and at attention as he climbs onto the bed behind you and takes a few moments to kiss at your neck, reach around and play with your bouncing tits.

how he teases you with his words, whispers them into you ear with full knowledge that the cameras microphone wont pick up on his words. there's no production crew this time around, no directors forcing a position or calling for breaks and ruining the building tension in your already coiled stomach.

"gonna fuck this pretty ass so deep, see if i can feel sugu through you hm? you want that?"

and his word already have you on edge, all you think you can manage is a moan of approval and the slightest nod of your head, but satoru grabs your chin and guides your gaze to the camera. "say you want it, say you want me."

"i—fuck—i want you, toru. want you to fuck my ass while i ride suguru."

the domesticity, the sweet nicknames you wouldn't have said on film if you were half as aware of the world around you—it's a lot for poor satoru to handle, what with how hard his cock is, how it's already leaking so much precum onto the sheets beneath you. he can barely still your hips for long enough to work himself into your ass, and the stretch of him is enough to push you forward and on top of suguru.

you're given a moment to adjust, a full minute of stillness to catch your breath and acclimate to the overwhelming fullness you feel—the weird way you feel whole, and the inevitable loss you'll feel once this is over. the moment is also given to stop the poor boys from cumming all too quickly. suguru can feel satoru pulsing inside of you, and satoru swears he can feel suguru's cock twitch. you squeeze around the both of them, test their resolve with a simple roll of the hips, and then choke on your spit when they both start thrusting in tandem with each other. hard and fast and mean and all at once.

it's blinding, the pleasure you feel all of a sudden.

suguru is strong and domineering with his hands on your hips and his cock nestled deep in your pussy—he thrusts his hips up, matches satoru's unkind pace in such a way you're sure you'll be unable to walk the next way. gorgeous praise slips from his lips as you hold eye contact with him—you're surely a mess, fucked stupid by two men at once.

satoru is eager and manic in the way he takes your ass. his hands perched on suguru's thighs as he ruts into you over and over in chase of a climax he knows is going to be unearthly. he'd praise you if he could, but all that spills from his mouth are incoherent babbles of pleasure that would make anyone listening think that he's the one being impaled on his almost too-large cock.

they work so well together—your pleasure seems to be the one thing they consistently agree on. you don't even have the mind to worry about the video length with how fast you're reaching orgasm, dragging the boys with you as you shake between them, wracked with pleasure so overwhelming you're nearly in tears.

it's a clip that gets shared on every porn site and blog known to man. of you, a fucked out mess between two lust-struck men each cumming inside of you at the exact same time your own orgasm crests.

the clenching of suguru's stomach as he bucks up into you, natural instincts rolling his cock as deep as possible as he empties his balls inside of you.

the way satoru tilits his head back, jaw tight and hair a mess as he forgets how to breathe when he paints the inside of your ass with his cum.

and you, impaled on both cocks at the same time, overstimulated and shaking with the remnants of the strongest orgasm you've had in a long time, and still rolling your hips in hopes of more. another round or three, as long as you stay this full.

@medusamara5 @echodead @curiositykilledthecatx3 @hirainne

@plinkuro @sooouth @megumiiiswife @nyxiswrites1200 @yveiscringe

@sharks31 @lenahathunger @aydene @dreamyokai @n0tviv

@chiiinglebells @timetoletmyimaginationfly @nayely45 @waffless-simp-blog

@zoozvie @gothicchildofthenight @repnights @flwerie @soundofraindropss

@ushijimas1simp @aliidarling @aeswin @peachygelic @silvermet

@rinadisapproves @theshxaverse @cipher00 @milkkteary @snackeyalleyjuice

@cvipped @toadtoru @keiette @satosugu4-ever

@sugurubabe @wickedpoison6 @simp-plague @tojis-ball-sack @ventila98

@xxbookdrunkdemigodxx @oikawasthirdleg @yogichi @theycallmesia

@kdrama-anna @vurelliex @anonnieghost @tadabzzzbee

@luvofbows @crywolfix @hhonaoin @gigiiiiislife @aviesnapkindoodles

@ninikrumbs @bijuu-naginata @baekhyunsbestie @grimmshold @dalnimmie

@domainexpansionmypants @5tarx @1depressedsimp @beachaddict48 @jadeis0nline

@sukunasbbygrl @luna-v-roiya @sukunaspillow @starsval @vamqyx

@laaalaaaloooppppsiiieeeee @mermaid-jewels @sugusmonkeyy @sammywo @noyaskneepad

@astrideverstar @lordchula-thagrandrula @chuuminn @angel1of-death @flooftoof

@rumi-rants @dysphoricsanity @coolcephalopod @satoruslxt @xoxo1mira

@whosmarjj @kikosaidbye @iceddragonfruit @amisuh @lotties-ashwagandha

@veraiku @niinistudies @jexx233 @logoleptic-since-06 @kirishimasboobs

@samaraxmorgan @sweetsformysoul @uranosbaaee @angeleen777

@xixflower @dilfdicks

[envy-of-the-apple]

Third Wheel

Dark!SatoSugu x reader

(Warnings: Yandere, dark content, dark, misogynistic language, delusional behavior, kidnapping, blood, violence, +ShokoHime x reader, choking (not in the sexy way tho), threesomes, oral!F!recieving)

Synopsis: Regardless of what Satoru and Suguru tell you, you've always felt left out in this relationship. But when you leave, you quickly find out there's no line your ex-lovers won't cross to get you back

Word Count: 7.3k

When you come home that night, they're already cuddled together, watching TV. 

It's cute. Your boyfriends were always so loose with their affection. When Suguru was cooking, Satoru would lean on his back, more than happy to talk his ear off. Suguru would hold Satoru's waist, steadying him, being his anchor. At night, you'd catch them reaching for each other, trying to hold hands even in their sleep. 

It's clear to even the blind: they are soulmates. 

And you were just extra baggage. 

You don't know how you caught their eyes, but this past year was fun. They've been sweet, both of them have. Inviting you into their lives, into their home, into their bed. Everything moved so fast, but you didn't mind. You were young and a bit spontaneous. Two beautiful men showing a glimpse of interest in you wasn't something you could pass up. This was nice, while it lasted. 

But unlike them, you aren't forever. Their bond would never come close to anything they could have with you. 

It took a while for you to accept that, but eventually, you did. 

"Hey, babe," Satoru calls. "Rough day?" He lazily waves you over. Suguru grunts, before shifting over to make space. 

Despite it all, you're a coward. You don't announce it; you just stare at them. Fondly. Yes, this was nice. You don't think you could handle telling them, though; that would be too much. Seeing how little they cared would break you. 

"Yeah." You give. "Rough day." 

You weave through the house. It's theirs. Not yours. That they've made clear. You're an afterthought. It's the little things. Their toothbrushes are together, yours on the other side of the sink. Their shoes were neatly stacked side by side, and yours were always tucked away in a corner. Left out. Forgotten. Why wouldn't it be like that? They've been together for years. You were still an outsider. 

You only have a little to grab. You just grab your extra clothes, the hair clips you have a terrible habit of leaving around. Just a few items. And then the bedroom looks like you'd never been there at all. 

When you come back out, they don't notice your suitcase. Satoru laughs loudly at something happening on screen. Suguru chides him sternly. Good. It's better this way, you think as you take your suitcase to your car. You don't need any additional heartbreak. 

You make a few more rounds, collecting everything you need. Suguru only catches you when you are about to leave their house forever. 

"Angel?" He calls. "Where are you going?" 

He's looking at you, head tilted in mild curiosity. You manage to smile, looking down at your car keys. 

"Out for a drive." You shrug. "I'll be back." 

Suguru takes it at face value. He lets you go with a small 'have fun'. The walk to the car is heavy. Metal dumbbells on your shoulders. 

When you get in the seat, you finally allow yourself to sob. 

~

I'm sorry, I just can't do this anymore

That's how you ended the wall of text before blocking them. It was the coward's way out. 

"No." Utahime's quick to tell you. "It's the only way. Those bastards would've never let you go otherwise." 

You shouldn't be so quick to listen to her, considering she hates them both. Still, she was more than happy to offer you her home while you picked yourself back up, and started looking for an apartment. You'll humor her for the time being. 

"She's right," Shoko pipes up. Her dark circles are even more prominent tonight. You guiltily think it has more to do with you than with her patients, but she and Utahime have insisted that you stay with them. 

"It was for my sake, more than theirs." You say honestly, tucking yourself into the couch. "They...don't care about me. At least, not like they do each other." 

Utahime rolls her eyes. "You are blind." She says. "Those two were obsessed with you. I'm just glad you got out while you could." 

You laugh, but it beats crying all over again. Utahime doesn't find what she said as funny. She chides you again, something about being oblivious before she settles down to watch the movie she put on. Shoko falls asleep right at the intermission. Her head falls against your shoulder. Utahime leans against you too. And it's nice to have friends to fill the void they left. 

~

Satoru appears first. 

You woke up later than you would have liked. Your eyes are itchy and red from crying all night. Utahime was more than happy to give you her guestroom, but you know you can't take advantage of her kindness for too long. Tomorrow, you'll start apartment hunting. 

Today, you'd sit on the couch and eat ice cream. 

When you go downstairs, you hear a hushed whisper. Utahime's by the door, using her body to keep someone out. She looks angry. 

"-No one's here but me. Now get the fuck off my property." She seethes. 

You recognize his voice. You aren't ready. "Have you heard anything? Anything at all?" 

"No." Utahime gripes. "So go, Gojo-" 

He catches your eyes. Your heart gets stuck in your throat. 

He's taller than her. It takes little to no effort to barrel through her body, easily shoving her aside to get to you. You flinch, his touch burns when he grabs you, pulling you into his arms. 

"Oh, baby." He sighs into your hair. "There you are. Missed you." 

It's too soon. You aren't ready. You can still feel the emotions bubble up from that night, when you collapsed in Utahime's arms, sobbing your heart out. This wasn't fair. They never made it fair. 

You cast a glance at Utahime. She was scowling, close to boiling right over the edge. It gives you enough strength to try to push Gojo off, but he only lets go, when he wants to. 

"Okay." He smiles, reaching down to grab your hand. "C'mon. Let's go home. You had us both so worried for a sec, but if we explain everything to Suguru it'll be okay." 

You find your voice then. As well as your strength. His grip on your hand isn't all that tight. It slips away when you gently shake him off. Satoru stops, confused. 

"Satoru..." You start. "Didn't you get my text?" 

He rolls his shoulders, agitated. "Yeah, but-but it doesn't matter." 

There it was. His lovable personality. Casual careless, nonchalance. For once, you aren't annoyed by it. Maybe your grief made you numb to it. 

"I did mean it," you say as plainly as you can, "every word." 

He freezes. You smile at Utahime. 

"Could you give us some time?" You ask. 

She frowns, but she's never been able to say no to you. 

"Ten minutes." She finally says, before she's marching back to the kitchen. You still hear her muttering while leading Satoru back to your room. 

"I'm sorry." He says when the door shuts behind him. 

"For what?" 

He runs a hand through his hair, taking off those glasses he loves so much. You can't look him in the eyes for too long. It brings up too many memories. 

"I fucked up, right?" He says, he sounds desperate. You've never heard him sound like this before. "I'm sorry. I dunno what I did, but I'm sorry." 

You shrug, picking at the lint of your sleeves. "You didn't do anything. I just...it felt like a good point to just-" 

"-Leave us?" He cuts in. "Come home, baby. I'm so sorry, just come home and we'll figure this out." You look away because you can feel the tears burn up. 

"You didn't do anything." You insist, but your voice is weaker. 

"Was it Suguru? Did he do some bullshit?" Satoru interrogates. "What'd he do? I'll kick his ass, I promise." You hide your smile underneath your sleeves. 

"He didn't do anything either," you assure, "neither of you did." 

He's getting more and more desperate. "Then why did you leave us? What's wrong with us? Why can't we go home and talk this out? Please come back, baby; home doesn't feel like home without you." 

Isn't this what you wanted? A confession. Evidence that they wanted you just as much as they wanted each other. Satoru certainly did. Suguru did, too, considering how hurt Satoru implied him to be. A week ago, you might have been over the moon, too wallowed in self-pity to do anything but agree, run back into their arms, and willingly sink back into 2nd place all over again. 

But the thought of going back to their home makes you feel sick. 

"I can't." You decide. "I just can't. It's over, Satoru." 

I'm sorry. You keep that last line to yourself because you're too scared to crack in front of him. Shatter. Splinter. 

Satoru doesn't share the same sentiment. You hear movement, and when you look up, he's crying. 

A part of you wants to hug him, but you hold yourself back because he isn't yours anymore, and maybe he never was. Still, it hurts seeing him like this. The piece of you that still wanted him is ready to forgive and forget. Your vindictiveness keeps it at bay. 

"That's not fucking fair." He's saying through his tears, even when he's crying, he's beautiful, "You-you can't just ditch us like this. You don't get it; we can't live without you. It's killing us; you're killing us, baby." He staggers forward, in a way that makes you afraid he might fall. In the end, he just collapses on the bed. Eventually, you take a seat next to him. 

He's looking around, you catch him eyeing the pile of clothes in the laundry basket. The hair ties on top of the drawer. The plushies on the bed. You think it might finally be starting to sink that that you're truly gone. 

"Suguru can't sleep these days, y'know that?" He starts, a sardonic laugh in his throat. "He pretends to, but he can't. He stays up all night just wishing you'd come home. The guy is miserable without you, and you can't even gimme a fucking answer." 

His voice cuts you just the way it's supposed to. You wince, feeling his words slice into his skin, finding their way into your heart. You look at his shoes for a moment. He didn't bother to remove them. Maybe that's another reason why Utahime was so pissed. 

"I was starting to feel like an afterthought with you two." You speak. "I mean, it makes sense, you two were together, first. I thought the barrier would just take time to go away....but then it didn't." 

How many times has Suguru taken Satoru's hand over yours? How many times has Satoru forgotten your drink but not Suguru's? How many inside jokes you didn't understand? You always felt petty for being jealous over the tiniest things, but those tiny things kept getting bigger and bigger until it felt like they'd been purposely building that barrier themselves.

You were sick of feeling like the third wheel in your relationship. 

"Baby..." Satoru's voice is tinged in guilt and you can't look at him because you can feel the tears start to well up. "I-I didn't realize." He grabs your hand. 

"Come home." He pleads. "We'll fix it, I promise. We'll be better. We'll do better." 

You shake your head, slipping away from his grip. 

"It's too late." Your voice is shaky. Please let him not notice. Please, please, please for once can his oblivious about everything but his one and only work in your favor? "You can't fix anything, Satoru. Not now." 

"You haven't even given us a chance to-" 

"You should go." You stand up. Satoru follows you out the door. Utahime's already outside. She catches your eyes and nods. 

"Gojo." She speaks, tone clipped. "Get the fuck out of my house." 

He stills, frozen like the prettiest painting in the world. His eyes turn to ice as he stares at her. Utahime doesn't budge. If anything, she advances, pulling you close, acting like a human barrier between you and your ex-boyfriend. You take it immediately, nestling into her side, taking refuge from his icy stare. 

There's silence. You only relax when you hear his footsteps fade and the door slams ricochets into the apartment. And that's when you break down into Utahime's arms completely, letting her coo you into comfort. 

"Maybe I am being overdramatic," you say when Shoko comes back later that day. Utahime was enraged since Satoru left, pacing around the apartment. It's only after both you and Shoko coaxed her back into the couch that she calms down enough to take a seat next to you. 

"Maybe this whole thing is ridiculous. I-I should just go back and-"

"No." Shoko is immediately saying voice firm. "Absolutely Not." 

You can smell the hint of smoke when she came back from the hospital. You try not to assume it's because of you. 

"No way in hell are we letting you go back there after what he did." Utahime gripes. 

"He didn't do anything." You argue. "I swear, I-I was just...being pathetic." 

Warm hands lift your head up. You struggle, still shuddering from your sobs as Utahime forces you to look at her. 

Her eyes are brown. Not as glittery as Satoru's, who's eyes shine like the burning sun itself. Not like Suguru, with his celestial purple. No, hers are just brown. 

You didn't realize how beautiful brown eyes could be. Not just the color of home; the color of chocolate; the color of brownies. The way the light cast down at them made them deep and dark, like a night sky. If you looked closer, you could see tiny stars swimming around. 

"Listen. Are you listening?" When you nod, her voice softens. She tucks your hair behind your ear. 

"You deserve better." She insists. "You deserve better than them. So so much better. I know you can't see it right now, but there is better out there waiting for you." Her voice loses all momentum all at once. "Just...trust me, okay?" 

Her desperation to be heard makes you smile a bit. You nod. Her frown loosens, just the tiniest bit. She relaxes. 

"Thanks," you say after a beat. "I...I needed that. I'm glad I have goods friends." 

Utahime's hands drop from your face. She collapses into the couch cushions with a groan. Shoko laughs. 

"Told you." Shoko says, mirth and alcohol on her tongue. 

Utahime flips her off, and Shoko takes her place. She settles into your side. 

"They were assholes." She tells you. "Forget about them. And she's right, you deserve better." 

You were glad they were there for you, even when you weren't there for yourself. It felt nice that they cared. Vouched, Advocated for your comfort. They made better boyfriends than your old boyfriends ever did. Their support helped heal the Satoru and Suguru-sized holes left in your heart. Every day became a bit better. 

When Suguru eventually turned up, you were a bit more prepared. 

He's a bit nicer than Satoru was. He actually knocks, instead of relentlessly pounding on the door. He doesn't barrel through Shoko when he spots you cowering behind her. His face betrays nothing. He's still. A polite smile is stretched on his lips. Shoko isn't happy about letting him into her home, but when she glances at you, you nod. You needed to do this. You needed closure. 

And so did Suguru. 

You don't speak to him until you're shut in your room. Geto cuts the silence first. 

"How have you been?" He asks nicely. 

"Good." You respond. "You?" 

"Good." 

Conversation stilts. You don't know what to say. Luckily, your ex is never the man who stays silent for long. 

"How's living with Shoko and Utahime been?" He asks, "I'm surprised you've put up with them for this long. They were pretty scary in high school." 

"I bet you two were scarier." You counter. 

He smiles. It's soft, looks good on him. You find yourself smiling back. When you take a seat on the the of the bed, he doesn't follow. You don't know whether to feel glad or not. 

"Yeah, I'm not the proudest of those times." He admits with a sheepish laugh. 

It dies down, and you know the artificial barrier between you two has broken. You shift, waiting for the inevitable. 

"Satoru told me what happened." He sighs. "I'm sorry, Angel. We-I didn't know how you felt. Everything was so perfect, I just thought you felt the same." 

"It's fine." You assure, and this time, your throat doesn't clog up, and your eyes don't feel itchy. "Really. It's-it's fine." 

"It's not." Suguru shakes his head. "You'd be in bed with us if it were." 

That comment pricks something deep within your skin. You swallow, turning away from his piercing purple eyes. They were much like Satoru's. Breathtaking, you could stare at them for hours. You used to. 

But now, you don't have that desire anymore. 

And maybe now that you aren't so attached, maybe you could try being a little more honest. 

"I was jealous." You finally admit. "I couldn't help it. I-I always felt like I was fighting within my relationship. You two were so much closer to each other than I was. Than I ever could be, honestly." 

Suguru frowns, troubled. 

"That's not true." He insists, soft, but something's burning underneath his tone. "Satoru and I have history, but that doesn't mean-" 

"I was runner-up." You cut him off. "For both of you. Looking back, I'm not really upset. It was always impossible for anything to come between the two of you. This-" You gesture between you and him "-was always inevitable." 

"It's my fault." You smile at him, hoping it comes across as sincere as you feel. "I couldn't stand being second place." 

He moves then, kneeling in front of you. Eyes the widest you've ever seen them. He catches your hands in his. You let him. A parting gift. 

"Angel." He starts. "We never once thought of you as that." 

You shrug. "It doesn't matter." You reply. "It's how I always felt. You can't really change the way I feel about things, Suguru." 

You think he's realizing that he's beginning to lose you. His grip gets tighter as if he can physically keep you with him at the very least. He shifts until he's right at your knees, looking up at you desperately. 

"Come back." He insists, abandoning his persuasions. "Just...come back. At least for a little while? We can try again, can't we? Just give us a second chance?" 

It's strange, they don't look too similar, but you can see the similarities. Wow, they're just perfect for each other, aren't they? Yin and Yang. Two halves; one whole. 

You were always a leftover. You just had to learn that the hard way, through days of heartbreak, crying, and sobbing your heart out. It took you awhile to understand that the affection they had for each other is different from the affection they had for you. 

You shake your head. His hands nearly crush yours. 

"I love you." 

It takes you a while to figure out what he said. When it does sink in, your world tilts. Your heart stops at his abrupt declaration and you must stare at him because why? At first, you think he's just desperate: lovebombing. And then you look into his eyes, his sincerity. No, he means it. It makes you feel worse. 

"Satoru does, too, but you know him-he'd rather die than admit something like that." Suguru gives a bitter laugh, one you find familiar even after all this time. "I've always wanted to tell you but thought it was too soon. I thought we had all the time in the world." His voice tapers so he doesn't have to say the obvious but clearly you three didn't. 

You want to reach over, tuck a stray lock behind his ear but you stop yourself because he isn't yours anymore. You gave it all away when you ran. Instead, you curl your hands around his in silent understanding. 

You don't know how you didn't realize it before, but Suguru is less put together than usual. His hair is typically well-groomed and shiny, but now you see split ends. His eyes are clear and bright, but today...they aren't. A dull purple. Hazy violet. 

He's miserable. 

You did this. This was all you. 

"Satoru misses you," he says, "always had. Barely smiles anymore. I don't think I can blame him." 

They loved you. They love you. This was all what you wanted. Just a bit of recognition. There's a tiny part of you that's still itching to jump back in Suguru's arms, kiss him until you're out of breath 'just kidding! it was a prank! let's go home!' and then you two would leave hand-in-hand back to Satoru. 

Going back to them would make them happy, but not you.

But Shoko was right. You deserved better. 

 "It'll get better." You assure. "You'll heal." 

Day by day, the cracks in your heart start to seal. Bit by bit. It may never heal over completely, but you know you'll be okay one day. And they'll be alright too. Who knows, maybe in a couple years, you'll all laugh at this. 

Suguru shakes his head and stands up. His eyes are just the bit glassy, but he's blinking them away before anything gives. It's just like him, honestly, so you're not too upset. 

"You don't get it." He's smiling, not quite in humor. "I don't think you'll ever do but..." He trails off, mid-thought. 

"But what?" You press. 

Then he sighs and closes his eyes. When he looks at you again, his signature pleasantly cold smile is on his face. 

"I did all I could, I think." He turns around, abrupt. "I'll see myself out." 

You're caught off-guard by his sudden departure, but by the time you're following him, Shoko's already leading him out the front door, locking it with exasperation. 

"Is that it?" She asks. "They won't be barging in anytime soon, right?" 

You stare out the window, watching as Suguru gets in his car. Something bubbled in your stomach. 

~

It was one of those nights. Shoko had come back early. Utahime was back from the school. You had planned a cute little evening for the girls and a relaxing night in. You had everything: wine, freshly-prepared dinner, a cheesy horror movie, and an announcement you're sure they were more than happy to hear.

You had just settled down the blanket when you hear Shoko come through the door. You take off her coat before she can even touch it, excitedly flitting around her. 

"What's gotten you in such a good mood?" Shoko asks, her dark circles even more profound than before. You don't have to feel guilty about those for long. 

"You'll see!" You chirp back. 

Utahime strolls out of the bathroom, fresh from the shower. Her hair is still wet. You'll ask if you can blow dry it later. 

"That's what you've been saying for nearly an hour now." Utahime groans. "Just tell us already. Or at least, me."

"Patience." You chastise. "But, it's a good surprise, I promise." 

She's not satisfied, but she sits down anyway. They eat dinner, complimenting your skills all the while. You preen at their praise. It's a stark contrast between Suguru and Satoru, how cold they'd often been whenever you did something nice for them: tilted smiles, less-than-receptive words of 'oh baby you didn't have to'. 

As you lived with both couples, you can see the similarities. Utahime's temper is close to Satoru's, but that's where the similarities stop. She's more serious and less likely to blow off your feelings with a playful huff. Shoko and Suguru share the same laid-back personality, but Shoko is always there to listen to you instead of cutting you off with condescending sympathy. 

Wow, maybe Satoru and Suguru were a little more shitty than you initially thought. 

Eventually, the night draws to a close. They're drunk, full, and smiling. Perfect. You clear your throat just when Shoko refills her fourth glass. 

"Again, I'd really like to thank you for letting me stay." You start. "It meant so much to me to have two amazing people to support me like this. So, thank you." 

Utahime smiles. "Don't thank us," she says, "again, you can stay for as long as you want-forever, honestly!" 

You nod. "Well, I don't think I have to do that anymore." 

Shoko freezes mid-sip. 

"What?" She asks. 

"I talked to my parents." You tell them, oblivious to their stone faces. "And I'm going to move back in with them, just until I get back on my feet. Isn't that great? Now, you two won't have to-" 

You stop when you finally notice how cold they look. Utahime looks close to tears. 

"What's wrong?" You ask. 

"You're leaving?" Utahime asks, her voice nearly cracks. "Why?" 

That...wasn't what you were expecting. Shouldn't they be glad the third wheel is finally out of their house? Why does Utahime look so heartbroken? Why is Shoko so quiet? What was going on?

"Isn't-isn't this what you wanted?" You fumble with your words. "Now, you don't have to share the house with me anymore. It'll be just the two of you again." 

They exchange glances, and it reminds you of those secret conversations Suguru and Satoru used to have. Except this time, you can read their faces. 

"What if...we don't want it to be just the two of us anymore?" Shoko starts, hesitant, reproachful like she's approaching a scared wild animal. 

Your eyebrows scrunch. "I don't understand." 

At that, Utahime drops her head in her hands. "Oh, c'mon! We've been doing this for weeks! You can't be that oblivious-" 

And then, she stops herself. Looks at you. You stare right back, and the three of you have the exact same realization at the exact same time. 

"Oh." You breathe. 

"Oh." Utahime whispers. 

"We're all idiots." Shoko says behind her glass. 

"Wait wait. Hold on." You backtrack. "You-you two want...with me?" 

"Yes!" Utahime exclaims. "Yes! God, now everything makes sense. I thought you were just trying to let us down gently, but this whole time you just weren't even paying attention!" 

"No." You argue, face hot. "You two were just really subtle." 

"We all sleep in the same room, these days." Shoko lists. "'Hime sat on your lap with nothing on but a bra and panties." 

"I thought we were just doing friend things!" 

"What kinds of friends sit on your lap, half-naked?" Utahime asks, mortified. 

"I-I-" You give up. 

All this time. You were mourning over something you lost months ago, even when there was something blooming right under your nose. God, you're an idiot. 

Hands. They clasp your own. You look up into Utahime's pretty brown eyes. 

"We want you to stay." She whispers. "We want you." You take a glance at Shoko. 

"Do you want us?" 

You take a deep breath. 

You nod. 

She's smiling, and then Utahime's kissing you. Soft, so soft, nothing like the possessive kisses Satoru gives you. It's innocent and adoring and you find yourself melting into her completely. 

Utahime disappears and before you can mourn her warmth, Shoko's lips join yours. You can smell the alcohol, the slightest sting of cigarettes. You don't mind it. Her kisses are nothing like Suguru's, all powerful and domineering. She takes what you give her, asking ever so nicely for more. 

You break away, panting. 

"You good?" She asks. 

You nod. 

"Good." Shoko hums. "Cuz we're gonna fuck you now." 

"What?" 

Shoko pushes you down on the couch. You land with an oomph before Utahime's descends on you with a flurry of kisses. 

"Waited so long to do this, baby." She's sighing into your lips, fiddling with your shirt so she can pull it off. "Weeks and weeks." 

She pulls down one of your bra cups, massaging at your tits. You hadn't had action in so long, so you eagerly encouraged her movements, kissing her back with just as much fervor. Shoko takes her place next to her girlfriend, pawing at your other tit. 

"Look." Shoko purrs. "One for each of us." Her soft mouth sucks on your nipple, swirling it around her mouth. Your head leans back with a pleasant sigh. 

"Feel good?" Utahime asks. "She's good with her tongue, isn't she?" 

"Yes," you nod, and Utahime gives out a delighted giggle, peppering your face with kisses. You gasp when you feel her hand shift through your shorts, palming at your dripping pussy. 

"Poor thing." Utahime's cooing, and there's a brief hint of mockery in her tone. You've never heard that before. It turns you on even more. "They never gave you attention back there did they?" She circles your clit. "They were too busy sucking each other's dicks to pay attention to such a pretty pussy." 

Shoko pops off your tits, shifting down. She kisses her way to your stomach. You blearily watch as she adjusts herself until she's right at your shorts. Utahime follows her lead, tugging off your shorts. Your panties go next. 

And then you're staring down at them with trepid anticipation. 

"I meant what I said." Shoko says softly. "You deserve better. You deserve someone who cares for you." 

"You deserve us." With that, She and Utahime latch onto your pussy. 

They're everywhere. You have to stop yourself from cumming right then and there, arching your back as one of them sucks on your clit while the other licks into your hole. She manages to stick her tongue inside of you, and it's enough to shoot sparks through your eyes. 

"So tight." Utahime's hissing into your cunt. "Sho, after this, you wanna try to fuck this pussy with your strap?" 

There's a soft laugh, and Shoko pulls away from your clit to answer, much to your disappointment. You whine, thrusting your hips in the air. She stills you with a hush. 

"I don't think we're ready just yet." She hums. "Yet." 

When you glance down, they both are making out with your clit. It's debaucherous. Their soft lips are connected, your tiny bud locked in the middle as their spit trickles down into your pussy. Utahime groans and when you look further down, you realize she's touching herself. 

You don't know which part of this makes you cum, but you cum. It's the hardest you've ever orgasmed. There's so much stimulation that your hips buck up, trying to chase the sparks of pleasure. They let you, licking you through your orgasm. 

When you come down, your thighs fall apart, splayed against the soft cushions. Utahime still isn't finished, licking at your clit. You shudder at the overstimulation, whining until Shoko is pulling her off of you by her hair. 

"Good, baby?" She asks, crawling back up to you. You kiss her as an answer. She melts in delight. 

You break the kiss, glancing over at Utahime. 

Taking the silent request, she kisses you again. You can taste yourself on her lips. You don't mind it. For some reason, it's sweeter on Utahime's tongue. 

When she breaks away, she stares at you, face soft. "You're staying, right?" She asks you. "You'll stay with us? Because after this, I don't think we could ever let you go." 

You give a shy nod, and Utahime beams. 

"Then, you're ours now," Shoko says, settling into your side. "And we're yours. Always." 

"Always." You breathe, content, happy. You could almost go to sleep. 

Shoko slaps your thigh. 

"Not yet." She warns before propping you up. "First, I want you to sit on my face." 

Hours later, you wake up delightfully sore in bed. The two girls are curled up next to you. When you move, you can still feel the bruises Utahime left. You never knew she liked to bite so much. 

You can't even begin to remember what happened, but you don't regret any of it. Hours and hours had passed as they fucked you and fucked each other, and you fucked them. 

Shoko shifts beside you. She was always a light sleeper. 

"Awake?" She asks. 

"Yeah." You softly say back. 

She hums, shifting a little more to face you. Utahime's behind you, arms protectively curled around your waist. At your voice, her eyes twitch. 

"Shut up." She grumbles, but her arms cinch around your waist. 

Shoko stretches as she rises up. You miss her body warmth but you don't mind the view she gives as she saunters over to the dresser, pulling on some clothes. 

"I'm gonna get food." 

Utahime mumbles out her order. You say nothing because you don't want to come in between them, and then Shoko looks at you. 

"What do you want?" She prompts. 

You blink, and when you answer, Shoko smiles, and then she's out the door. 

The interaction makes your heart warm. 

Still, it can't last. 

When you go to get up, Utahime protests, grabbing your wrist. 

"And where are you going?" She prods. 

You fumble. "Back to my room?" 

"What? Why?" Utahime demands with a frown. "What's the point, you're already with us, now." 

"Oh." You blink, but you give in and slink back into bed. "Is...this really okay?" 

"For God's sake, " she hisses, but you don't count it against her because Utahime has always been a little grumpy after waking up. "Yes. We're obsessed with you. How are you so blind?" 

"We want you, and we're not like them." Her voice drops in disdain. "We'll treat you better. You're ours now. You're mine." 

"Yours." You repeat, something warm fluttering in your belly. 

"You can't leave, we'd go crazy, okay?" She seriously tells you. "If someone else takes you away, I'd lose it. And Shoko is okay with murder." 

You laugh. 

"That's not a joke." She warns. 

"I know." And you kiss her again. 

It's like that for a couple weeks. You live in peaceful domestic bliss with two wonderful girlfriends. Now that you're in an actual loving relationship, you can't tell why you ever contemplated ever going back to Satoru and Suguru. Shoko actually talked to you about your feelings. Utahime cared about your input. You weren't treated like an afterthought, second place. 

They were with each other longer than they had been with you, but they never made you feel like you had to fight for your relationship. Speaking off Satoru and Suguru, they never once contacted you after their first two attempts. They'd clearly given up. 

Everything was just perfect. 

And then, it just wasn't. 

You were in bed with them. Fifteen minutes ago, Utahime shuffled off to go to the bathroom. She still wasn't back. Half asleep, Shoko grumbled. 

"She's probably in there fighting a cockroach." She complains, but she rises anyway. "Sleep, I'll be back." She kisses you on the cheek, and then she's gone. 

Their body warmth fades, but they stay because they're tired. These days, you can't really sleep without them, so you wait for the girls to return. Two minutes pass. Then, five. Then, ten. By then, the bed is cold. 

You open your eyes, sitting up. It's so quiet. Are they okay? 

You pull off the comforter, stepping onto the cold wooden floor. The apartment feels strangely...haunted somehow. The air felt heavier now, thick with an invisible tension, like the house itself was holding its breath. It must be because you feel alone, you're sure of it. 

The bedroom leads to a dark hallway. As you make your way down, you can hear something. Voices? Murmuring. The relief almost makes you laugh. Seriously, what were you even afraid about? 

The living room is horrific. 

They look dead. You can't tell if they're breathing or not. Shoko's eyes are closed. Utahime's limp body is sprawled across the floor. There's blood on the wooden panels. 

Suguru doesn't even blink. 

"You're awake." He says it so casually, like waking up to your ex-boyfriends mauling your girlfriends is normal. 

"What..." Your voice fails, you weakly try again. "What did you two do?" 

Satoru answers, smiling with glinty teeth. 

"Isn't it obvious? We're getting rid of the competition." 

You don't understand, your brain hasn't caught up yet, you still think you can talk to these psychos. 

"It's their fault." Satoru's still smiling, but there's nothing happy about his tone. He's carrying a knife. There's blood on it. "It's all their fault. They manipulated you into breaking up with us, baby. That's how these useless sluts got you into their arms." He spits on Utahime's hair. You cover your face with your hands. 

"But, it's not like you aren't at fault, Baby." He points the knife at you. "You left us for them. I'm not letting you off the hook for that." 

You don't know what he's saying. His movements scare you, his eyes, the knife. When you glance at Suguru, you don't know what you're expecting. 

But you know you aren't expecting...that. 

His purple eyes are icy cold. Utterly devoid of any emotion. You don't think you're staring at a person, anymore. 

"You lied," Suguru says, "You lied about us not giving you enough attention. You just wanted to leave us. For them." 

You step back. They step forward. 

Those bastards would've never let you go otherwise. Utahime warned you. Looking at her limp body, you wondered if she thought they'd ever go this far. 

"I didn't." You weakly insist. "I-I wasn't lying about anything! It-it wasn't like I wanted to leave-" 

"Stop lying," Gojo insists. "Stop fucking lying already." 

He smiles again. 

"It's okay, baby. I know you'll come back with us. Right after we're done dealing with these two whores." 

"You'll belong to us." Suguru promises and he steps on Shoko's hands. "Just like always."

They were both crazy. Nothing could get through to them. Now, you would sit there and watch them maul the only things in your life that made you feel complete. 

The worst part is that everything was your fault. 

Shoko's pinky twitches. You can see Utahime take shallow breathes.

And you speak. 

"I'm sorry." 

Your weak voice makes them stop in their tracks. Satoru glances at you, Suguru does too. You can't convince them. The only thing you can do is play into their delusions. 

"You're right." You say, the tears finally feeling useful. "I just wanted to leave. I-I was just bored. I wanted something new." Suguru's lips curl and you quickly move on. "But-but the more I stayed with them, the more I realized...how much I missed you two." 

Satoru halts. You caught him. 

"I did." You stress, carefully making your way to him on feet that were close to dropping at any minute. "Every day, I thought about you two." You reach out, touching his face with shaky fingers. "I really really wanted to come back, but I was afra-afraid you wouldn't...want me back."

Satoru reaches up to touch your hand. His fingers are cold. You resist the urge to shudder. 

"You missed us?" He wonders. 

The lie feels like sand. 

"More than anything." 

His kiss is violent. He crushes you with his grip, touching and biting and everything you hate. You squeeze your eyes shut, letting him suck your soul dry. 

"Don't kill them." You whisper when he finally pulls away. "Please don't kill them. Everything was my fault." 

Satoru's face is pensive. His gaze drifts off to Suguru's. Those silent conversations you hated so much. 

Then, Satoru gives a delighted sigh. 

"You're lucky. I love you so much." He kisses your nose, before pushing you in Suguru's arms. 

"I'll clean up here. Suguru, go back to the truck." He demands. 

You don't fight, letting Suguru drag you away. Shoko and Utahime live in apartments, but you're afraid if you scream, Satoru might change his mind and gut them anyway. Before Suguru leads you off, you catch Gojo scoffing before he kicks at Utahime's face. You gasp and pray that when Shoko wakes up, she'll be coherent enough to call for an ambulance. 

I'm sorry, you tell them. I'm so so sorry. 

Suguru pushes you into the backseat of their vehicle. You obediently take a seat. 

"You shouldn't have left." He tells you. "You should've stayed." 

His face is cold, but his tone betrays the tiniest tremor. If you weren't so scared, you'd laugh. The irony is that he's the one who feels wronged here. 

"I'm sorry," you say anyway. 

He hums, not quite satisfied with your answer. 

"You aren't." He responds, and you hate how well he knows your tells. 

And then, he grins. 

"But you will be."

Hands reach out, gripping your neck. You flail immediately as Suguru cuts of your oxygen. You can't breathe. You can't fucking breathe. No matter how tightly you squeeze onto his wrist, digging your nails into his hands, clawing at his face. He keeps you still, keeping you there as you grow weaker. Your vision gets blurry. Your attempts get sluggish. There's a kiss on your forehead, and you black out completely. 

~

You wake up in a room you've never seen before. And your neck is sore. 

The pain drifts in as soon as consciousness does. You feel like you have a hangover, your head throbs, your eyes struggle to remain open. You can't go back to sleep either, not when it hurts so much. 

The panic doesn't settle in until you catch the cuffs on either one of your legs, keeping you attached to the bedpost. Silver chains, with enough lead to let you move around a bit. The cuffs are padded so you don't rub yourself raw. You don't care about the thoughtfulness. 

They're in the room with you, watching with silent eyes. Nausea builds up in your stomach, and you wonder how long they'd stayed there, just watching you. 

You miss Shoko. You miss Utahime. You missed people who actually loved you. 

Not these two. Monsters that lied and pretended, but deep down, they were just too selfish to share. 

"You were out for a while." Suguru comments. 

"I told you to use the syringe," Satoru remarks, but he doesn't sound too upset. At his voice, Suguru laughs. 

You shift in your spot. Suguru takes that as an invitation. He sits at the edge of the bed, watching you with satisfied eyes. You must look pathetic: shivering, in tears. He reaches up, catching your tears with his finger.

"So cute." And then he frowns. "You know why we're doing this, yes? You were bad. You need to be punished."

"I'm sorry." It's all you can say. You feel like a broken record, doomed to repetition over and over again.

"You aren't. You should stop lying." Suguru says sweetly. "But I'm sure, a couple hours in your new home will help you think about how much you hurt us."

You wanted to scream, but you can't cuz your throat still hurts from Suguru's hands, and you know he's not above putting his hands on you this time. Maybe he never was, you just never saw this side of him until you made him snap.

"You're leaving?" You stumble, moving as they back away but the chains only take you so far. There are no windows, and when Suguru shuts the light off, the only thing that's keeping you from the dark entirely is the light emitting out the hallway.

"Wait." You beg. "Please. Wait, don't-don't leave me here. I'm sorry. This is scary. I'm scared."

Satoru hesitates at your broken voice. Like a shark smelling blood, you pounce.

"Satoru, please."

"If you keep coddling, then the lesson will never be learned." Suguru warns.

Satoru stares at you. He's not wearing his sunglasses. You can see him for what he is now.

"I love you." He says it so sincerely, you almost believe it. "This is for your own good."

The door shuts, and everything goes dark.

[jensthwa]

show & tell (SMG x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

You have known Mingi since you both were fourteen. You’ve been by his side through thick and thin and you would do anything for him, really, considering he’s your other half. When he has an unfortunate bed experience and asks for your help and you say yes, he starts considering that, maybe, you’re just the best friend a guy like him can have.

PAIRING: best friend!mingi x afab reader.

GENRE: childhood best friends to ?

WORD COUNT: 8k.

WARNINGS: SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) attempt !!! at comedy, wooyoung being a little shit, hwa being the voice of reason, sex talk, pet names (love and also dude and bro but in a sweet way), mingi scaring the sense out of you, descriptions of female anatomy, kissing, dirty talk (sort of), teasing, a little bit of voyeurism, fingering, squirting, almost getting caught, unresolved feelings.

NOTES: had to do a lot of research for this one, so i figured nothing better to post as my first fic here! this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: july 18th 2024.

masterlist. / part two.

“Delete her number right now!” 

“She's such a bitch for saying that to you…” 

“And over text too? Wow.” 

“Yeah, no, I didn't like her from the start.” 

Wooyoung’s living room comes to life once again that morning, voices echoing and insults flying out, all towards the girl Mingi’s seeing. 

Was seeing. You're sure she's out of his usual rotation with the lovely shit show she just caused. 

You stay silent, your eyes fixed on your best friend's expression, on his red cheeks and apologetic eyes because everyone told him that girl was bad news. 

He should've listened to you when you told him you liked her friend better. She was a sweet girl, clearly had a thing for Mingi. 

Unfortunately, Mingi has a type. And that type always ends up breaking his spirit one way or another. 

But you stay silent, letting your friends have their little rants about how much of a bitch she is for hurting Mingi's ego like that, until he covers up his face with his hands and lets out a frustrated whine. 

“That's enough, everyone. I think he got it.” You smile a little and everyone turns to you, Yunho’s chest heaving and everything but Seonghwa (who also kept his mouth shut all this time) interferes before anyone else has the chance to start again.

“You know you shouldn't feel ashamed for that, right?” he asks Mingi, who slowly lowers his hands to his lap and looks at you for a brief second. You nod, confirming what Hwa says “No one is born knowing everything and she shouldn't expect you to know how to make a girl squirt.” 

“Jesus Christ,” Mingi whines again, closing his eyes “Don't say it like that.” 

“How else should I say it?” Seonghwa is confused but he laughs a little bit and turns to you. 

Being the only girl in the room, you think everyone it's expecting you to pick your friend up and join them in their insults but you can't (for Mingi’s sake). Instead, you let out a sigh “I mean, it's hard to even make it happen on your own without any help, Mingi. I don't know what the fuck she's on but…” shrugging, you extend your arm to pat him in the shoulder two times “Hwa’s right.” 

“So you do know?” 

“Woo—” Hongjoong reprimands right away and you turn to Wooyoung, confused.

“Huh?” 

“You said that it's hard making it happen,” he explains, smiling because he just found a new target for the next few days “So you must know.” 

Talking about sex with them was never difficult, it didn't make you uncomfortable whatsoever but you know what Woo is doing. 

You look down at Mingi before answering though and his eyes are glued to the carpet, begging for the topic of his unfortunate encounter with that bitch to die on everyone's tongue. 

So you take mercy on him. 

“Oh. I mean… Yeah.” You shrug once again, leaning back against the cushions on the couch while Wooyoung claps like he just heard the most hilarious joke ever. 

“You truly are amazing.” 

Rolling your eyes, you get up from your comfy seat “Sure. But it took a lot of practice and the whole ordeal was frustrating for me, so, again, I don't know what the fuck she was on,” you say again, smiling down at Mingi before taking a few steps towards the door “It's noon already, by the way.” 

“Shit.” Woo gets up quickly from his spot on the floor and everyone else follows suit. 

“Alright, everyone out! We have a midterm to cheat on.” San calls out and everyone takes it as their sign to actually leave (not just hang around the apartment) and continue with their days. 

This reunion was a little impromptu, just because Wooyoung texted everyone begging to come over and hang out with him and San before their online philosophy midterm. 

“And by that he means that you need to stay,” Wooyoung hugs Seonghwa hard, almost begging him with his eyes “We didn't study… Don't look at me like that! Please?” 

“I'm not doing your fucking midterm for you!”

You chuckle, leaning on the door and waiting for your ride home to get his shoes on. When you look down at him again, Mingi mouths a thank you and you blow him a kiss. 

When you get downstairs, you swear you still hear Wooyoung begging his senior to take the test for him. 

Everyone is quiet in the car. You can tell they're tired from exams and life in general, so you don't press them with questions and just let the music play in the background while you look out the passenger window and, eventually, at Mingi. 

His grip on the steering wheel lets you know he's a little more affected than he let on back there. But, again, you say nothing. 

You know better than to pressure him into telling you his feelings. 

Mingi and you have been friends forever. He lived a few houses down from yours, becoming your first friend when you moved to the city. You both were fourteen when it happened, so you've known him long enough to know what happens when he gets his heart broken. 

Not that Mingi loved that girl or anything, but he never really took embarrassment well. He didn't when the first girl he liked rejected him in front of the whole ninth grade class and he didn't when his pants ripped in the middle of the stage while performing a routine with his dance team on senior year. 

You stood by his side every single time and every single time he waited to sit down and let everything out, collect his feelings and talk to you through his frustrations. You really loved that about him, because he never said anything he regretted just because he was upset at the moment. 

Maybe that's why you two have been friends for so long. Opposites attract, or whatever your mother told you one time. 

In reality, you think it's because you two complement each other well. 

He knows when to speak his mind and you're kind of impulsive, heart on your sleeve and sharp tongue ready to defend your and your loved ones honor if needed. 

That's why it takes a lot of strength for you to not pull up that girl's number from his phone and give her a piece of your mind. 

One by one, you drop your friends off in different parts of the city and when it's time to go into your own house, you circle the car and Mingi rolls his window down.

He reads the look you give him a little too well, so he opens his mouth to stop you but you shake your head. 

“Call me, come over or just let me know if you need anything,” you start before he says anything “If you need me to beat her up, I can do that too.” 

He huffs out a laugh “You don't even know how to fight, love.”

You sigh at the nickname, he's been using it since the time you told him you had a crush on his friend, way back in highschool, and that you were positive you were going to get together and he would call you love because that's what good boyfriend's do. 

Turns out, you weren't exactly his friend's type. Neither were the other girls in your school. 

“I don't give a shit, I'll do it,” You two smile to each other fondly for a few seconds and then you tap the top of the car “Thanks for the ride, dude.” 

“You’re welcome, bro.” He rolls his eyes, annoyed because he hates when you call him that, but waits for you to get inside either way. 

And in the solitude of your room, you wait. 

You distract yourself with papers that are due in a few days, you start studying for your finals even though they're months away and you even go downstairs to say goodbye to your parents when they leave for a fancy dinner with their colleagues before you hear your phone ring. 

Mingi's FaceTime comes right on time, because you were getting really anxious from the radio silence on his end. 

“I have a small query for you.” He puts on an accent that makes you grimace immediately and he laughs at you. 

“Ew. Never do that ever again,” you beg, going back upstairs to your room “Go ahead.” 

“How do you do it?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“How the fuck do you make yourself squirt, love?” 

Oh. 

Definitely not the conversation you were hoping to have with him. 

It catches you off guard and you stammer your response “Um… You— I mean, it's not really a thing I can explain.” 

“You have such a way with words, though.” 

You stare at him through the screen, annoyed, and he just laughs again “Don't make me come over and beat you up.” 

“Alright, alright,” his giggling dies out and you distract yourself from the heat you feel creeping over your cheeks while putting away your statistics prep for the quiz you have next week. There's a bit of silence and then you hear him sigh “I do really want to know, though.” 

“If you're asking me this to then go over to her house and prove her wrong, I'm not telling you shit.” 

“No! No, that's not it at all,” he defends himself quickly when you turn your head to the camera, scowl in your face “When she asked me to do it, I really did try to make her, you know…” 

“You said squirt so freely a minute ago, Mingi,” you tease, smiling, but at his expression, you give in “What exactly did you do?” 

“I tried to, you know, do it like they do it in the movies,” he demonstrates his point with his free hand, his middle and ring finger down on his sheets, pressing and moving side to side “And she was enjoying it and she came, but nothing really… came out.” 

“Wow, first of all: you make her come and she has the nerve to give you shit over text? I hate her,” you shake your head, disappointment written all over your face “and second of all, that was a terrible mistake.” 

“What? Going like this?” He does it again and you roll your eyes, laughing a second later. 

“No, dude, trying to porno your way into making her squirt.” 

“Oh.” His movements on the sheets slow down and you grimace again. 

“Please stop doing that,” you beg and he snaps out of his thoughts to look at you through the screen. You take your phone and move to the bed, resting your head against the pillows with a huff. 

You ponder for a moment. You're sure telling him what he wants to hear it's not really a threat to your friendship, but it's also something that's very personal and intimate. You can talk about sex with Mingi and the other guys, sure, what doesn't mean you tell them about your sex life. 

Maybe that's why Wooyoung was so excited earlier today, because you spilled something that involves you directly and not something vague and general like you usually do. 

“Would it give you peace of mind if I explained it to you?” You ask, your voice barely a whisper as you sit straight on the bed. 

Your best friend takes what feels like a lifetime to respond and, when does, it's in a hushed tone as well “Please.” 

You groan and you comply either way, trying to find the right words to even start “Okay, I'm going to be very technical about this.” 

“I wouldn't expect anything else from you.” 

His teasing tone makes you glare at him for a few seconds before dismissing it with a click of your tongue “The very first thing you need to make sure happens, is that you wash your hands—” 

“Yes, Y/N, I'm not a virgin,” he huffs this time, annoyed “I know all of that, just skip to the part where I make her squirt.” 

“Jesus, fine! I also want to clarify that this works on me and I'm not really sure if it'll work on anyone else, alright?” he nods and you look away from the screen because you're not sure how to look him in the eyes “The first thing that I do— The first thing that you need to do,” you correct yourself quickly “Is make sure she's comfortable. And I mean, the space. Towels, water bottles… She needs to hydrate a lot.” 

“Hydrate… a… lot…” You turn your head to the screen and your jaw goes slack at what you see. 

“Are you writing this down?!” 

“I’m making sure I don't forget anything!” 

“You're unbelievable…” You let out under your breath and take a deep one before resuming the, apparently, class “Squirting can be confused as peeing and—” 

“Shit, hold on.” He interrupts and you hear his mom’s voice at the door, asking him something you can't really catch through the shitty airpod audio “It's just Y/N… I'm not really saying anything so I don't understand how I'm being too loud for— Yes ma'am.” 

You try not to laugh because he's literally being scolded right in front of you. 

Old habits die hard, and Mingi's mom loves to put him on the spot. 

Your laugh dies hard as well, because the next words, for some reason, make your heart drop to your ass. 

“She's telling me to either cut it out or go to your house, so… I'm coming over.” 

“Oh, I— Hello?” Your lockscreen mocks you because the call literally ended before you could tell him to go and fuck himself “Shit.” 

You don't know why you panic, but you do. You tidy up the room, you change your pajamas into something more presentable and you try to remember what you were telling him before he pulls open your bedroom door. 

“Mingi! Fuck, you scared the shit out of me “ you're panting, hand over your chest. 

He’s also panting, like he runned to get to your house, but he looks dumbfounded by your reaction “Your mom literally gave me the spare keys in your presence.”  

When he steps closer, you notice he's wearing cologne and that his hair it's a little wet, still, so you figure he took a shower before calling you tonight. 

Which means he probably wanted to sleep everything off, like he usually does, but whatever this is made him call you. 

“Yeah! But I thought you— Nevermind.” He shrugs and gives your hair a kiss before he moves to sit at your desk, the same way he usually does when he steals your laptop and notes to complete his assignments for the few classes you share. 

God. Somehow, you wish he was doing just that so it brings back some sense of normalcy. Maybe then, your heart can calm down enough for you to understand why this specific situation has your senses going insane. 

You sit back down on your bed and try to get your heart back to its place in the meantime. 

“They're not home, right? I didn't see your dad’s car.” 

“Company dinner.” 

“Ah.” He nods and you both fall in uncomfortable silence. It shouldn't be awkward, but it kind of is, even if you laugh when he pulls out the notebook he was writing on from underneath his oversized shirt and steals a pen from your pencil case, it's still a little weird. 

You gulp. 

“So, squirting can be confused as peeing.” He recalls the last thing you said with a smile and then he turns to look at you for a second “Go on.” 

You're grateful he's taking notes all of the sudden. He's turned to you, so you have a clear view of his back and you can freely take a grounding breath before continuing “It can make you feel very uncomfortable if you think you're going to pee yourself and that's really why most women don't squirt in the first place.” 

“You sound like you're reading a textbook.” He confesses with a laugh. 

“I told you, I'm being very technical about this— Besides, I did my research when I was trying to…” you gulp again “You know.” 

“You said squirt so freely a minute ago.” Mingi teases you the same way you teased him earlier and you squint your eyes in return. 

“Very funny. Anyways… Yeah, when you feel that, you usually tense up. You need to relax before even making it happen,” he nods, writing it down quickly “I also read that, depending on the person, you can confuse the liquid with, like, usual… arousal? Yeah, arousal” you sound more confident the second time you say it, unsure on how to call it because you never really explained anything related to your vagina to anyone else. 

He turns to you, confused “So… If she doesn't squirt a lot, how can I tell if she did it?” 

“I guess you'll notice it in her reaction?” You shrug and then cough a little to try and get rid of the sudden lump on your throat “I mean, it's not my case, so I wouldn't… I wouldn't know that.” 

Mingi, because -you guess- hates you, just raises a brow and looks you over one time before turning back to his notes. 

“A-anyways,” you cough again “It's all in her g-spot. It happens because it gets stimulated and that g-spot it's like…” you, once again, try to find the ideal words to explain “It's like the upper wall of the vagina? No, no, that's not right,” you see him draw a line over what he clearly wrote down on the paper and you laugh, apologetic “It's more like the, uh… Like the front wall of it.” 

“Front wall?” 

“Y-yeah?” you offer, nervous and unsure “I mean… Ugh, let me explain again. Something that you need to take into account is that you can only find it if she's really, really turned on.” 

“O… kay.” 

“Sort of like when you get hard we, uh, also get hard. Just differently,” you notice he's no longer taking notes when you turn to him again and the room is suddenly very hot. 

The AC’s on, right? 

Fuck. 

“And apparently it only really shows up when you're really aroused. The g-spot, I mean,” Quickly, you're up from your bed and walking around it, fetching your water bottle and taking a big gulp of it with your eyes closed. 

Mingi clears his throat a second later. 

“So it feels hard to the touch or…” 

“Not really, um… It kinda feels like a berry.” 

He laughs “What?” 

“Yeah, it's kind of soft but it has a texture to it too. And we, uh… have this gland that fills up with the liquid— Kind of like a prostate gland! Yeah, that's what that article said,” putting even more distance within Mingi and you, you sit back on the bed, just on the other side “If you try to do it before it fills up, you end up with nothing. That's what frustrated me the whole time I was learning how to do it.” 

“You didn't drink enough water?” 

“No, no— It fills up when you get really turned on. And when I was trying, I was trying way too hard and didn't, uh… I didn't do a lot of foreplay before trying, s-so.” You nod, finishing the explanation in a softer voice. 

Your cheeks feel hot and you swear your upper lip is sweating a bit. Why would you even say that? 

“Y-you didn't touch yourself enough or…?” 

“Exactly, I didn't, I just… Tried t-to stimulate it. Wasn't even wet enough so I used, uh, lube.” 

“Oh… Lube. Sure, okay.” He nods again, and then moves his hand over his face, looking away for a second “And then?” 

“I'm not really sure how to… Give me a second.”

What were you even telling him before exposing yourself like that? Before the tension in the room skyrocketed in a suffocating way? You're not sure. 

Oh, foreplay. Okay, what's next? 

“Fingering,” you say out loud when you remember and at the sudden word Mingi turns to you, eyes wide and you stumble over your words yet again “Y-you need to finger her to stimulate the g-spot, duh.” 

“Don't duh me, Y/N, I'm learning!” 

“Sorry!” 

“Okay! Now what do I do when… fingering.” 

That makes you frown. You're not really sure what to tell him next. So you look straight ahead and, unintentionally, move your ring and middle finger the way you do when you're touching yourself. 

In the silence of the room, you audibly hear Mingi’s breath hitching and that draws you back to reality. 

When you look at him, his eyes are solely focused on your fingers. 

“I don't really know how to explain this next part.” You sound apologetic, your lips tensing into a straight line. 

A bit passes. 

And then another one and another one where Mingi looks at you with a weird, foreign expression on his face. 

So you open your mouth to apologize to him, but he beats you to it. 

“Then show me.” 

You swear you never even heard him sound like that before. Or maybe you have, the tone of voice similar to when he just wakes up, low, grouchy, as if his throat might be dry. 

It just never affected you this way. 

“W-what?” you blink hard, a few times, trying to focus on whatever the hell is going on. 

“Show me how you do it… I-if you want to.” 

“Mingi!” 

“I just— Look, you don't have to,” he says right away “If you don't want to, you can forget I ever asked but I'm so… curious”, he says, getting up from your desk chair and planting his knee into the bed “And I'm also really butthurt over what happened. I want to learn but I don't really have anyone else to ask.” 

“What about, uh… Minseo! Yeah, what about her?” you offer quickly, also getting up. 

“San's ex?!” 

“I don't know any other woman that you also know, Mingi!” 

He gulps and breathes heavily, gathering his words, his thoughts, just like he always does and you remember: This is Mingi. Your Mingi. The Mingi you've known for years and care about more than anything. 

“I'm asking you because I trust you,” he says, looking you over once again “And because if I fail, you're not… going to make fun of me for it.”

There it is. 

You soften at that and he seems to relax at your reaction. His demeanor lets you know he's not just saying that because he wants to see you touch yourself, he's being honest. 

So you decide to be honest, as well. In a whisper, because your voice will tremble and give away how strongly you feel about his request. 

“I've never done it in front of anyone before.” 

“So no one has ever make you—” 

“No,” you confirm before he even gets it out and you sigh “I never ask for it and I haven't really… I've only slept with—” 

“Hangyeol.” He nods and scrunches his nose in disgust at the memory of your highschool boyfriend. They never really got along and it was a shame, because Han was a great guy, he just wasn't the one for you. 

“Mingi,” you walk over to him and he straightens up his spine “This could really… I mean, there's no getting rid of me in this lifetime, buddy,” reminding him makes him smile and you do as well, nervous, your body on high alert “But this could mess us up.” You finish in a whisper. 

“I'm not letting that happen.” He says back, eyes scanning your face before zeroing on your eyes “There's no getting rid of me either, love.” 

That nickname is going to be the death of you, you're sure. It makes you suck in air you very much need at this moment. 

Fuck it. 

“I'll… get the towels, then.” You smile a little even though your cheeks are burning and you feel a little dizzy while holding his gaze, but you don't back down. 

Before you move, though, he stops you with his hand holding your waist “I know where they are. Stay here.” 

You could literally melt right now. And you know it's a short trip to the downstairs hallway closet from your room, so you make sure you strip your duvet before things get messy. 

You should go to the bathroom, too, to clean yourself up a bit before Mingi finds out what you find out when you sit on your bed. 

You're so wet. 

And it's so fucking embarrassing, because you're not supposed to feel this way for him, for this.

Because, if anything, this is clearly just an educational experience.

And if Mingi’s excited look when he re-enters your bedroom tells you otherwise, you're choosing to ignore it for the clearly educational experience’s sake. 

“These will do?” 

You take the two mismatched towels and place them on the bed right away, not even looking at him. 

“Yep.” 

You think he nods but you're not sure, you just caught a glimpse of him moving towards your desk while you pretend to fix the towels in the bed to perfection. 

“Okay, so… You need to, uh, be comfy and shit. Drink water, you just did that a few minutes ago…” when you turn to him, he's reading his notes like he's actually about to conduct an experiment and you chuckle before shaking your head “The… The foreplay part should be next, right?” 

“Right…” you drag out, biting the inside of your cheek before he looks back at you. 

“You look really tense, Y/N,” he deadpans, looking down at his notes again “You need to relax so it can happen, right?” 

“You're about to see me touch myself and you think I can relax?” 

“Oh,” he frowns, immediately and then blinks a few times to refocus, you think “I'm not the one doing it?” 

“Uh… Yes? Later? I thought you wanted to see me first, y-you… You asked me to show you…” 

You can feel him think, the gears on his brain twisting and you think he's going to backpedal at any second because he's not really saying anything. Then you see it, the moment the image crosses his mind. 

And the next second you have him in front of you, towering over your form and then he's not.

Getting on his knees, he tentatively places a hand on your knee and parts your legs so you can make room for him to touch the end of the mattress with his chest and raise his chin just enough to make you think he's asking you to kiss him.

Oh God, you want to kiss him. 

His voice is a sweet murmur when he speaks again “Show me how to get you there, love,” he sounds like he's pleading, like he's begging you to instruct him and your breath catches when he moves his hand up your thigh “What do you like?” 

Your mouth moves before you can even think “Kiss me.” 

You don't even notice you're leaning forward until his breath fans against your chin and he tilts his head even more so that your noses touch. 

“How do you like being kissed?” 

You breathe out a laugh, a little annoyed by his constant questioning “Figure it out, Mingi.” And then the last thing you see is his smirk before his mouth presses against yours. 

It's not what you expect. If anything, you expected him to take the lead. Han used to do so, all the guys you've ever kissed did it as well. You don't really know why his patience surprises you, but it does and if your heart could race even more, it would. 

Because he waits for your guidance, waits for you to grab his shirt and jank him closer, waits for you to sigh against him and then returns the gesture when he feels your fingers move upwards and tangle in his dark hair. 

His mouth is complying to yours, his tongue is exploring it and wetting your lips in the process and you've never felt this good with anyone before. 

That's something you'll need to unpack later, but your brain disconnects when your best friend lets out a noise the second his hands touch your waist under your shirt and you forget, for a split second, that the point of this is to have you on your back pleasing yourself for him to learn. 

Because you want nothing more than to hear him make that noise again. 

The kisses grow needy and so do you when he trails a path with his wet lips from your chin to your neck and the next thing you know is that your back is against the towels you laid down before and his mouth is kissing the valley of your breasts over the cotton of your shirt. 

You look down and it takes a second for him to feel you staring before he looks up at you “Should we take this off?” 

Your voice gives away how gone you are when you reply a simple yes and your shirt is on the floor the next instant. 

Now, you're sure this is not the first time Mingi has seen you in your underwear. You both have gone swimming before and he has walked into your room a million times while you're getting ready. You're even sure he's seen you walk out from your bathroom in this specific bra before… But he's staring at you like it's the first time he's been able to trace the way your breasts spill a little bit over the fabric of this old bra you decided to wear today, like it's the first time he's allowed himself to enjoy it. 

Like it's the first time he's allowing himself to feel any sort of attraction for you. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, shallow breath hitting his cheek when he returns his mouth to your jaw “Let me… Come here.” 

You scoot up until your head rests against your pillows and he follows, resting his body weight on his side and chasing your mouth when you turn your face to him. 

You should speed this up. There's no way you're not going to feel like shit if tomorrow you wake up and remember you're letting yourself enjoy this more than you should. 

There’s no reason for you to lose your breath when his fingertips trace softly the skin under your breasts or for your legs to grant him access so quickly when they reach your belly and bypass every other part of your body before going straight in between them. 

And he notices it too. 

“I don't know why I asked you so many questions before,” he starts, turning his hand so that he back of it and his nails start caressing the inside of your thighs through your sweatpants “I know what you like. I pay attention to you whenever we're talking about sex with the guys.” 

You frown, about to remind him that you never speak directly about your own experiences but he continues his ministrations, giving your other thigh attention “I usually watch you closely in case any of it makes you uncomfortable, but I notice your reactions when they speak about something that you like.” 

Oh. Heart on your sleeve, your biggest flaw. 

“Like that one time Woo was going on and on about marking and you couldn't stop fidgeting on your seat…” his nose traces your jaw softly before his teeth take the skin underneath it and you gasp just enough to prove him right “Or that time Yunho said he hated teasing because he's an impatient little shit” he chuckles, his index finding the spot next to your mound and going down slowly until his knuckle graces the crevice where your leg and your hip connect “and you defended it until we had to stop you guys from yelling each other over it…” 

Your breath shakes and your eyes close at the sensation “Mingi…” 

“Am I wrong?” 

You shake your head no and you can all but hear him smile when he speaks again. 

“Of course I'm not.” 

You open your eyes and expect him to look at you the way he does when you're unable to defend yourself against his quips, but he's not. His eyes are following his own actions and his bottom lip is pulled by his teeth when he takes the fabric of your sweatpants and pulls it up, enough to give you some friction where you need it the most. 

“Can I take this off?” 

“Fuck, y-yes.” 

Joining your shirt on the ground, you're left only in your underwear while Mingi is fully clothed and it bothers you out of nowhere. 

“You're so wet already…” he observes and you blush, puffing some air and covering your eyes with your hand. He just laughs “That's a good thing, it means that I'm doing okay.” 

He's doing more than okay. Damn all the experience he has and the way he reads you so well. 

But his sweet tone gives you some clarity and you support your weight on your hand to fix your position on the bed. 

“Alright, let's… resume the lesson before my parents get home.” 

“They probably won't for now. The company dinners last until like… two in the morning, usually, right?” 

“That's when they decide to go out for drinks.” 

“Your mom always wants to go out for drinks.” 

“Let's not talk about my mom right now!” you beg and he laughs again, making you chuckle alongside him and you're glad he's talking all of this -the kissing, the teasing, the sweet-talk and the wet patch on your underwear- so well. 

The awkwardness from before dissipated the moment he got on his knees in front of you and all that followed was this lovely tension you're dying to keep between the two of you forever even though you shouldn't. 

“Show me, love,” he pleads and you sigh, his mouth finding your cheek for a quick second, encouraging you “And then you can show me how to make you feel good, too.” 

You stare at him for a few seconds “Damn, you're good,” he shakes his head and you smile, getting rid of your underwear and pushing the quick moment of embarrassment being bare with him in the room gives you “Remember that this is what works for me, okay?” 

He nods and then props himself up so he can see it better. 

You take a second before your fingers dive into your wet folds and, when you do, you gasp at the feeling. 

You've never been more wet just for kissing and teasing before. What the fuck. 

You do what you usually do when you're alone for a while and try to contain yourself from moaning because Mingi's eyes keep moving from your fingers to your face. Then, you remember you should be talking him through it, as well. 

“You see how I'm building it up?” you start, chest heaving and he hums as his reply “I'm not trying to make myself come but I'm kinda just… edging myself a little bit.” 

“Edging,” he repeats and then hisses when he sees your thumb pressing into your clit just how you like it, making you sigh heavily “I know all about that, that's good.” 

“Y-you do?” 

“You'll be surprised,” he smiles, proud of himself. 

“Okay,” you continue, taking a deep breath “Then you know about prepping, too,” he nods “So, a finger first…” you say, swallowing hard when your middle finger makes its way into your cavity without much effort. 

Dragging back and forth for a minute or so, you're incapable of containing yourself any longer. Air leaves your mouth in pants and your eyes close when you drag the pad of your finger upwards, locating your g-spot with ease because you're used to it.

“And then, two fingers.” 

“Mhm.” 

“Look at the position of my hand. I read that these two fingers work the best because they're longer than the rest, although…” you look at Mingi's hand over your belly. You didn't even notice before this that he was touching you, but he is and his thumb is tracing a pattern that both relaxes you and sends shivers down your spine “I'm sure that it won't be a problem for you, huh?” 

He sends a cocky smirk your way and you would've smacked him if you weren't so… preoccupied. 

Pressing your precious spot and then dragging back and forward, you stop the movements altogether. It felt too good, way more than good and it's a different sensation of what you're used to. 

And it's all because of him. 

You look at his side profile, his eager eyes commiting to memory what you're doing to yourself, probably taking mental notes now that his notebook is long forgotten over at your desk and… 

He deserves this. He deserves to be the one to have this, just tonight. 

You hate to leave what feels like it's about to be your best orgasm in the hands of someone who's just learning, yet alone a man.

But Mingi is not just any man. 

“Mingi,” you call and his curious eyes leave your heat a second later “your turn.” 

“Did you… Did it happen? I didn't see anythi—” 

“No,” you interrupt him, your fingers leaving you and you turn to him, your clean hand finding his face “show me what you learned.” 

His mouth parts, but you have a newfound confidence and a glint in your eyes that is new, so nothing comes out. 

“Prove that bitch wrong.” 

That seems to do it. 

His eyes go from being confused to spark with determination and want and electricity runs through you again because he seems so relieved he gets to touch you sooner than expected. 

Shyness and nervousness buried six feet under, you both smile to each other before you feel him. 

His fingers gathering your wetness, his thumb finding your clit with ease and expertise. 

“Wettest pussy I've ever touched.” You can tell he's a little lost in the heat of the moment but it's okay. So are you. 

Fuck. 

It's been way too long since someone else touched you this way, so you all but melt at the circles he draws on your clit. He paid close attention before, because he's touching you just the way you like it. 

“That feels so good…” 

“Yeah?” he asks, dark eyes finding yours before a particular stroke forces you to close them. And then he gathers enough slick to insert his ring finger inside and you can't help the moan that slips past your lips. 

You lift your hand to cover your mouth, but Mingi clicks his tongue in feign disappointment “I want to hear if I'm making you feel good, love. Don't hold back on me just because this is unconventional.” 

The worries die altogether with that. 

And now that you have free reign to stop containing yourself, you don't know how to stop. 

It's not long before his middle joins his other finger but he doesn't go for it right away. He fucks you slowly, allowing you to get used to the unfamiliar stretch of his way longer, way thicker digits until they slide in and out with little effort. 

His pace picks up after what feels like ages and your hand fists his shirt for the second time tonight, nodding and moaning in encouragement. 

“Deeper,” you instruct “curl them upwards and go deeper, you'll feel it then.” 

He obeys immediately, his chest heaving and his mouth parting in delight when he finds it. The pad of his finger presses down on it tentatively and your grasp on his shirt hardens.

“Is that it?” you nod and he does it again, which earns another moan “What do I do now?” 

Before you completely get lost in the feeling, you decide to drop the step by step bullshit aside and give him the full instruction in hopes that he'll remember it all without fucking up: “What works for me is pressing… Fuck, yeah, just like that a-and then…” you take deep breath “Just a little harder… Yeah, then rub it in a circular motion while maintaining that same pressure… Fuck, Mingi!” 

He's a little too good at following instructions, because he touches you like he's been doing this forever and soon you feel the familiar swell, the usual buildup of it all and he's taking you over the age like it's nothing. 

You forget how to speak, you forget how to tell him what he needs to do next and so, when you finally explode, you take his wrist and place his two fingers over your clit. 

When you move them side by side, he lets out a fascinated giggle but knows exactly what to do. 

A second later, your release is coating your thighs and the towels underneath you and you don't register anything else because your ears are ringing. 

Did you lose consciousness for a second? It feels like you did. 

That was the best fucking orgasm you've ever felt in your entire life. 

And when you come back down, you only register the sound of your breathing and plump lips kissing your face, his fingers stopping their pace once he realizes you're done with it. 

Opening your eyes, you stare at your popcorn ceiling for a second. Then, you look at Mingi who's already staring at you with a what the fuck just happened expression. 

It makes you laugh. Softly at the beginning, post-orgasm bliss takes over but then Mingi laughs too and your whole chest swells with inexplicable pride. 

You don't think twice before kissing him again. When you realize you did it, you pull back and blink at him like he didn't make you see stars three seconds ago. 

“That was…” his eyes do the thing he usually does. You never notice it until now, but he scans your face so frequently you've grown used to it, but now… It feels different. His teeth nip his bottom lip and he shakes his head before speaking “Come here, love.” 

And then he's kissing you again, slow, intimate, beyond the stupid lesson you just taught him. 

But you don't mind it one bit. 

You sit up, getting on your knees on the bed and basically forcing him to do the same. Ignoring the gross sensation of the wet towel underneath you, you pull him further into you until his chest presses against yours, until his hands roam your body and settle on your waist, securing the embrace. 

This time, when you pull away, there's this whole unspoken new thing between you. 

“That was…?” you press, smiling a bit, pulling both you and him back to reality. 

Right now, with you half naked and his hard-on pressing on your belly, it's not the time to discuss your feelings. 

“Possibly the coolest thing I've seen,” he starts, giggling when you roll your eyes “and the hottest thing I've seen, too,” you shrug, dismissing his stare because it's making you feel hot all over your body, again “and I'm really, really grateful you said yes, love.” 

The soft tone he uses to say the last bit relaxes you and you nod, deciding it's not the time to tell him you never even came like that on your own. 

Instead, you decide to grasp this intimate moment and extend it as much as you can. You can see Mingi is not expecting it when you reach his sweatpants and let your shaky thumb trace the outline of his cock. 

Closing his eyes, he lets out a pleased sigh before he grabs you by the back of your neck and rests his forehead against yours. 

“This is supposed to be purely educational, Y/N” 

“Is that what you want it to be?” you softly ask, pulling your hand away but then his hips buck and chase after your touch, making you smile despite the emotions swelling in your chest “Let me help you… Please…” 

“Fuck, don't beg me, love.” 

“Don't make me beg, then.” 

What the fuck are you even doing? 

“Y/N, I—” he stops suddenly and you're too lost in the moment to notice why. 

But then the sound of keys and a door closing downstairs scares the fuck out of you and you push Mingi away without thinking it through. 

He lands with a thud on your bedroom floor, next to your discarded clothes. 

“What the fuck, Y/N?” he whispers-shouts, both shocked and offended, but you're getting off your bed and picking up your clothes and the soaked towels so you don't really care about his feelings right now. 

“Bathroom. Now.” 

You're so blessed for having your bedroom right next to the upstairs bathroom. And so blessed that it is your bathroom and you don't have to share it. You’ll get on your knees and thank your gods afterwards, but right now you can only think one thing.

Don't get caught. 

Lord knows you'll never hear the end of it if Mingi walks out of here with a hard-on. Your dad will kill him, your mom will cheer because she loves the idea of you and Mingi together and you'll probably pack your bags and move away if it happens. 

When you lock the door behind you and make a quick show of putting your underwear and pants back on, you hear Mingi chuckle. 

“We can always tell them we're having a sleepover, Y/N, you didn't have to karate kick me off the damn bed!” 

“Hush!” But he just keeps giggling at your very obvious flustered state.

You're about to rip him a new one when he takes two strides, backs you against the bathroom sink, and catches your lips in a quick, sweet kiss and all your worries dissolve just like that. 

“Guess they didn't go for drinks after all..” 

“You think?” cocking your head to the side, the smile on your lips can't be fought at this point. 

He returns it and leans in for another kiss, longer this time and you sigh against his mouth before pulling away because you really, really shouldn't be doing this right now. 

You hear your mother calling your name and then footsteps up the stairs. A murmured she must be sleeping and a hum from your father before they pass the bathroom door. You truly only relax when you hear their door closing at the end of the hallway. 

“Okay, we're safe now.” 

“When were we ever not safe?” 

“When I was half naked on my bed, Mingi!” 

He shakes his head with a smile and takes a step back. 

You clear your throat. 

“I really did want to help you out but—” 

“Raincheck?” he asks and at your hesitation to say yes, he continues “If you want to. If you don't, it's okay. We… We'll figure it out, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

He smiles again “Good, uh…” 

Mingi seems unsure on what to do next. Feeling the same, you decide the best thing to do is to get him out of here. 

Opening the bathroom door, you carefully peek into the hallway, taking his hand in yours and beckoning him to follow you down the stairs, trying to make as little noise as possible. 

“Shit, your shoes…” you whisper. 

“I don't think they noticed if they didn't barge into the bedroom to check on us like they usually do, love.” He returns, in the same tone. 

That does nothing to ease your mind, but he makes sure to put them on quickly and then grabs your shoulders, shaking you in a teasing manner. 

“Quit worrying, Y/N. I can feel you thinking.” 

Of course he does. There's no one, in this world, that knows you better than him. 

It makes your heart flutter and it shouldn't. But you're getting on your tippy toes and stealing a parting kiss before you think about it too much. 

It's irresponsible for you to do so, but Mingi grabs your waist and extends the duration of the kiss and suddenly you don't give a fuck about your parents or anyone else finding out about this… shift in your dynamic. 

“See you tomorrow?” he asks against your lips and you nod. 

“See you tomorrow.” 

And with that, he leaves. 

You lock the door and practically run to your room after. 

What the fuck have you done?

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated and since it’s an open ending (sort of), let me know if you want a second part! 

© jensthwa, 2024.

[saturnsocoolioyep]

Ultimate Anime Tournament: Round 3, Matchup 32

[lokissweater]

“i love you and i love you.” ᡣ𐭩

{yuta okkotsu x f!reader}

summary: yuta okkotsu has been hopelessly in love with you since he was fifteen. you, his muse and his reason to live as you took care of him growing up more than anyone else in his life. in fear of breaking your best friend pact and losing you entirely, yuta swallows his feelings for the sake of keeping you in his life, but he can only take so much.

warnings: college au, friends to best friends to lovers trope, lowkey ooc yuta oops, mentions of underage drinking, hopelessly devoted and lovesick yuta for reader, cursing!!! both reader and yuta cuss lol, lots and lots of fluff, ANGST, afab!reader, use of y/n, pet names, no smut in this one! slight sexual themes, reader is older than yuta by two years.

word count: 8.7k

authors note: YAAALLL i actually poured my heart and soul out into this one so i really hope it reaches your heart and soul as well! it is so so cute and i had so much fun writing it. this is definitely not the end of this au! i plan to write more short stories that take place after this one :) mwah.

————————————————————————

yuta was thirteen years old when he first saw you.

you were a casual friend of his older brother who had invited his entire group of friends over for a thanksgiving feast reunion amongst yourselves. yuta stayed locked in his room for the most part, from time to time lazily making his way down the halls and through the kitchen where you all sat to get a glass of water for himself, silently savoring at the food on the table.

eventually you had picked up on his lame attempts of coming into the kitchen for random excuses, concluding that he just wanted to gawk at the food and maybe score a bite or two of the pumpkin pie drenched in whipped cream, sitting pretty and proud in the middle of the table.

but after various unsuccessful attempts and various defeated stomps down the hall and back to his room after every shoo from his brother, he knew he wasn’t going to get even a lick. at the end of the night when the group settled down and many began to take their leave, yuta made his way back down one more time in search of any lucky scraps left behind.

but what he found instead was you, standing in the kitchen with a white porcelain plate in your hands, a slice of pumpkin pie drenched in whipped cream sitting pretty in the middle.

“for you,” you had said calmly, plate outstretched, beckoning him to take it. “i saw you come down a few times looking at it, and i think whoever brought it is taking the rest of it back home, so here.”

yuta had never spoken to a girl before, much less a fifteen year old one with the sweetest smile he had ever seen in his life on her face, but he timidly and awkwardly took the smooth plate from your offering hands, and muttered a squeaky thank you before stumbling down the hall and slamming his bedroom door shut.

from then on, yuta looked forward to the next time his brother would have his friends over, nagging at him constantly with questions of when, and even going as far as to straight up planning the hangouts himself (the location of all of them being at their house of course), but his brother would only shove him out of his room and lock the door shut.

luckily for yuta his wish was granted, and his curious eyes saw you around a lot more often than not, and you gradually became a close friend of yuta’s brother instead of just casual one. every time you came over to his house, you always greeted him with the biggest smile on your face before going into his brother’s room with the rest of the group. and over time, your greetings to yuta went from sweet smiles, to pats on the head, to ruffling up his hair occasionally, and to his personal favorite, the side hug.

you always were around in yuta’s growing life and always made sure he had gotten something to eat that day, or if he had a ride to soccer practice, or if his phone had enough battery to last him through his tutoring sessions, or even if he had someone going to watch his soccer games in the mornings (which was never).

yuta was fifteen when he realized he liked you.

“so no one is going?” you asked sharply, “again?”

yuta shrugged. “its at eight o’ clock in the morning. i don’t expect anyone to, not even you-“

“well i’m going,” you said simply, putting the rest of your textbooks away in your locker and slamming it shut. “geez not even your brother goes to your games? i’m gonna yell at him later.”

“it’s fine.” yuta shook his head and gave you a small smile, his insides twisting and contorting with an overwhelming boy crush for you. “a lot of my teammates parents don’t go either, usually only to the first two of the season.”

but not you. you went every single time, even going as far as dragging his brother with you so he could have family there to watch him play. yuta always made sure to turn and raise a hand to you from across the field, waving it side to side before getting back in the game, his heart thumping wildly in his chest with an insane sense of adrenaline to do good on the field and show off— because you were watching.

yuta was still fifteen when he realized you liked his brother.

firstly, he felt utterly stupid for not picking up on it before. yuta was always too busy staring at you and memorizing every inch and detail of your face to realize that you were looking at his brother the same way yuta looked at you. he was too busy running around in soccer fields and eating the ham sandwiches you always made for him after practices to realize how red your face would get when you sat next to his brother during his games, or when you gave him sandwiches. yuta was too busy drooling over you in his mind that sometimes you wouldn’t even notice him waving at you from across the field like he always did, your eyes trained on his brother instead, that sweet smile he was all too familiar with shining for someone else.

it wasn’t fair. it wasn’t fair at all. yuta felt like his brother always got everything and he always ended up with scraps. yuta never got a friend group like his, or a stellar reputation in a sport like he did, or people at his beck and call everywhere he went, or nominations for pointless shit like homecoming king.

but yuta didn’t give a flying fuck about any of that. he didn’t want any of that. he wanted you. just you.

but he couldn’t have you.

yuta was sixteen when he realized he was in love with you.

he had been for a while actually, and he knew it, but the thought alone of you liking his stupid brother only fueled the fire of denial to save himself from getting hurt more than he already was.

but it was absolutely pouring rain that day, his tutoring session having been cancelled last minute due to the weather, and because of this he had no ride home and no umbrella to even attempt at walking home, not that he could anyways seeing as it would take him thirty minutes to do so. yuta absolutely could not take that chance. he had his laptop in his backpack with all of his school work, and worst of all, his final project that he had been working on since the beginning of the school year, a precious green portfolio filled with notes worth more than gold to him.

yuta grumbled as he scuffed his feet against the concrete at the front of his school under a rooftop, lips pressed into a thin line in annoyance. his parents were at work, there was no way they could just drop everything and go to him (not that they would anyways), and his brother was too busy hanging out with you doing god knows what at god knows where— so even calling you was out of the picture.

at the mere thought of you hanging out with his brother, he sighed softly, sadly, and slumped down on a blue bench with his cold hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket, eyes trained to the ground.

heavy pit pats of rain smacked against the ground as he sat there in thought, the sounds of cars zooming down the wet streets as the only source of life around besides himself, seeing as it was already late in the day and everybody else had gone home. without him even noticing, the front doors beside him creaked open as he sat there grumbling.

“yuta?”

his head snapped up upon hearing your pretty voice call out to him, his eyes wide as he saw you standing there with an umbrella.

“what are you doing here?” he asked softly, standing up. yuta looked at you then and noticed your eyes were red and tired, and a shock of worry shot up his spine.

“i was-”

“are you okay?” he asked quickly. “your eyes are red.”

“oh really?” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes with your palm, waving him off. “it’s nothing, i didn’t even notice.”

he pursed his lips, concern written all over his face as he took in your defeated expression, but before he could press any further, you spoke again.

“why aren’t you in tutoring?”

“oh they cancelled last minute,” he stuffed his hands further into his jacket and looked to the side. “i don’t have a ride home now because of it, and i can’t even walk home because it’s raining hard as fuck and i have my laptop in my backpack.”

you hummed in understanding, and even though it looked like the worst possible thing ever just happened to you, you gave him that same sweet smile he craved every time he saw you. “let’s walk to your house together. i have an umbrella we can try and fit under.”

he looked at you incredulously. “no no! it’s okay! you live down the street i don’t want to make you walk thirty minutes in the rain with me and thirty back-”

“it’s okay!” you laughed. “i would never leave you here by yourself yu, you know that.”

oh how he loved when you called him that.

his shoulders slowly relaxed, a wobbly cute smile spreading across his face, his cheeks a fuzzy pink. “okay.”

you walked together in a comfortable silence, your little umbrella just barely covering the both of you and yuta’s cheeks were still an intense pinky shade due to the close proximity, his steamy breath basically fanning the side of your ear as he huddled close to you.

after a few minutes spent walking on the sidewalk, yuta spoke up again.

“why are your eyes red?”

you immediately froze, but relaxed quickly.

“just tired s’all,” you responded weakly, but the little wobbling of your bottom lip told him otherwise.

yuta slowly lifted his hand and reached out, placing it softly on top of yours and clenching over the stem of the umbrella. the action caused you both to stop walking, your curious eyes snapping to his.

his palm felt like it was on absolute fire at the feeling of your soft hand under his, yuta’s breath trembling as he breathed out.

he swallowed. “can you please tell me why.”

your eyes flooded with tears then, and you shut them tightly as you dropped your forehead solemnly to rest against his shoulder, your frame shaking with quiet sobs escaping your lips.

yuta’s eyes softened and he quickly took the umbrella from you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders in a tight hug. his heart thumped so hard against his chest that he could hear it ringing through his ears.

he patted the back of your head gently. “what happened? what’s going on?”

you shook your head against his chest.

“y/n..” he sighed worriedly, running a soothing hand over your shaking back now.

“i have a crush on your brother,” you sobbed.

he knew. god he knew. but hearing you say it out loud broke his heart ten times more than it did when he found out on his own.

yuta slightly pulled back, bending his knees a little to look at you at eye level, his hand on your shoulder.

“i know.”

your eyebrows furrowed, more silent tears spilling from your eyes. “you know?”

yuta nodded, smiling sadly at you as he wiped your tears with his thumb, your eyes closing as he did so. “i spend almost every second of my life with you, of course i know. i noticed.”

you sniffed.

“weren’t you just with him now?” he asked.

your eyes shut tightly again, eyebrows contorted in pain as you nodded. “i confessed to him. i wanted to tell him before we graduated next month.”

you lifted your hands and covered your face, sobbing into them. “i’ve loved him since middle school.”

loved?

yuta’s shoulders slumped as he stared straight ahead, feeling like he wanted to crawl into a deep dark hole and stay there.

“he-“ you hiccuped. “he rejected me.”

his head snapped down immediately, eyebrows furrowing in a mix of disbelief and anger. “huh? he rejected you?”

you nodded, dropping your hands from your eyes and burying your head in his chest.

“why? what did he say?”

“he said he didn’t feel the same way—” you stopped for a moment to even out your breaths. “and that he was sorry.”

yuta scoffed, shaking his head. “what a big fucking loser.”

you snorted at that, and he looked down at you fondly, relieved you laughed.

“he… he thanked me for everything that i’ve done for your family though, especially you.”

he stayed silent.

“he said he was thankful that i was like another sibling for you, and that i took care of you.”

another sibling?

yuta didn’t say anything, that phrase like a slash through his heart while he still thought about how much of a fucking idiot he was to reject you. you, out of anyone deserved to get everything you wanted. you were selfless, incredibly sweet, the most gorgeous human being to ever walk this earth, and you had done so much for everyone that you neglected your own needs all of the time.

how could he not love you back? how could his brother not see the angel in his life that loved him, that sentiment alone an absolute privilege to have? something he would kill for?

yuta knew he shouldn’t make this about himself. he knew you were absolutely hurting and heartbroken, but he just had to know. it was eating him alive inside and out and over and over again as he kept thinking about it.

“is that how you see me?”

“hu-huh?” you hiccuped, picking your head up from his chest to look at him.

“as another sibling. is that how you see me?”

you blinked up at him, your eyes trailing over his furrowed eyebrows and worried gaze, and you hesitated for a moment, not knowing exactly why.

but you nodded, slowly. “you’re my best friend, yu. you’re not just anyone to me i care a lot about you. more than most people in my life.”

for a moment, yuta looked at you blankly, his mind unable to properly register your words. he didn’t know whether he wanted to cry, call up his brother and yell at him, kiss you, or run away.

a part of him knew that too, that you only saw him as a sibling. but like everything else in his life, he buried it down and chose to pretend like it didn’t exist for the sake of his heart.

but regardless of you not returning his feelings, he would rather be something to you than nothing at all. he would rather make some type of difference in your life and have a special spot, than be an absolute nobody to you.

so he smiled. he smiled with soft sad eyes and nodded, pulling you back in and resting his cheek against the top of your head. “you’re my best friend too.”

yuta didn’t see you around much at his house after that, which he understood.

but you still texted yuta everyday and hung out with him sometimes at school, and you still went to his games and practices and made him ham sandwiches after, and you still gave him that sweet smile he loved so so much.

but he never missed how sad you got around his brother, even at the mere mention of him. he never missed how your eyes stayed glued to the ground or had a far off look to them, your arms wrapped around yourself with a safe distance between you both.

when you graduated high school, yuta was a brat the entire ceremony. he was pissed. so pissed that you were two years older than him and that he wasn’t going to see your pretty self around school anymore, which was pretty much the only reason he tolerated it in the first place.

but when your graduating class threw their caps up into the air and his family went down to congratulate his brother, yuta made a beeline for you instead.

and behind that scowl on his face that he had the entire day, his eyes were glossy.

yuta never cried.

when you noticed, your shoulders instantly dropped and you ran to his open arms, practically throwing yourself on him. “yuuu! don’t cry for me!”

“who said i’m crying?” yuta grumbled into your shoulder.

you pulled back and smiled at him, “i’m gonna miss you the most.”

yuta smiled, but then faltered, and a sliver of fear shot up his spine. was this the last time he was going to see you? was this the start of you both slowly distancing, and then ultimately falling apart? were you still going to call him and text him everyday?

as if you could sense his fear, you quickly shook your head. “you’re literally stuck with me for life. you will never find another best friend to replace me, you got it?”

you waved your little index finger at him sternly, and yuta laughed. “i got it.”

yuta was nineteen when he almost kissed you.

after you graduated high school, luckily you went to a college that was only about a thirty minute drive from his place. you were still in yuta’s life, if not way more than it was before, which he thanked his lucky stars for. you went from being a best friend of his brothers, to being only his best friend, as you and his brother didn’t really talk anymore after high school.

and to that, yuta was happy.

and when he graduated high school, you of course were there, crying and pinching his cheeks and hugging him so tight his back cracked a little bit.

he didn’t go to the same college you did (although he definitely tried but didn’t get in) and went to one that was about forty five minutes away from home, one he commuted to everyday like you did for yours.

you both got so much closer that you obliviously acted like a couple, when you weren’t. yuta would pick you up from class and drive you to lunch, pay for all of your meals and anything you practically wanted despite you fighting him every time on it. he would kiss your forehead and your cheek and throw his arm around your shoulder when you walked, he would call you baby and compliment you every single day, and he would sleep over at your house almost all of the time, your head on his chest and his arm wrapped around your torso.

he knew best friends weren’t really supposed to act like this, but did you? you both had grown so accustomed to it that it wasn’t a weird thing for you both, but the constant questions from your mutual friends or even each others parents was a dead giveaway that it in fact, was not how best friends were supposed to act.

but neither of you seemed to care.

“stop moving yu!” you whispered harshly as you applied an aloe vera mud mask to his face. yuta snickered, dodging your fingers every time they came close to applying the mask, with the only reason he was doing it being because it made you laugh.

you were both sat on your fluffy pink rug in the middle of your room in your pajamas, surrounded by all of your skincare essentials and even the fancy products you only pulled out on special occasions. it was one in the morning at this point and you both were still up, trying to keep your laughter to a minimum in attempts at not waking up your parents downstairs.

“baby this stuff smells kind of funky,” he commented as you applied some to his cheek.

“the funkier the better,” you responded, focused. “kind of smells like you.”

he pinched your side and you giggled, flinching away. “i’m kidding! i’m almost done, don’t move.”

yuta listened and stayed still, watching your concentrated pretty face that was practically inches away from his as you applied the mask to the rest of his face, his poor heart almost giving out.

once you were done, you smiled triumphantly and wiped your fingers with a warm damp towel. “all done!”

yuta smiled fondly at you and kissed your cheek. “thanks. is this what you put on every night?”

you shook your head, “not every night, only when i want my skin to look extra good for special occasions.”

“which is..?”

“it’s usually when you invite me over to your family events or when we eat dinner at that one really nice place by your school.”

yuta stopped at that and he felt his heart clench at your words. he didn’t know why and he usually didn’t let it, but his mind was making him believe that maybe…

no.

he relaxed again, humming in acknowledgement. you picked up a circular pink little tub compartment thing and unscrewed the cap, dipping your ring finger in the shimmery product.

“what’s that?” he asked softly, nodding his head to it.

“it’s my lip scrub!” you responded enthusiastically, lifting your ring finger and scooting closer to him. his eyes looked straight at you as you slid your finger over his lips. “it has kind of like a rough texture, it’s supposed to exfoliate your lips and make them really soft.”

his cheeks slowly turned pink, his eyes trailing down to your lips as you sat back, finished.

“here— put some on me now so you can feel what i’m talking about,” you handed him the little tub and he dipped his index finger in, swallowing the lump in his throat.

he timidly lifted his hand and pressed his finger to your waiting perfect lips, softly and gently running the product on your bottom lip before going to the top, his eyes mesmerized and nearly drooling.

yuta was practically tracing you, wanting to burn forever the shape of your mouth into his brain to remember for the rest of his life, wanting nothing more than to press his lips on yours.

but he inhaled sharply and quickly dropped his hand. “i’m finished.”

you pressed your lips together and spread the product around, “did you feel it?”

he shakily nodded, wiping his finger on the warm damp towel before handing it over for you to do the same.

you held up a corner of the towel to his lips and gently wiped the scrub away, “and now they’re soft.”

you passed the towel back over to him, and you sat back, eagerly waiting for him to do the same.

yuta swallowed again and mimicked you, except he was much slower, much more gentle over your plush lips as he subconsciously leaned closer to you that by the time he was done, his nose almost bumped with yours.

with eyes half lidded, he stared at your lips in a daze, licking his bottom lip slightly as you looked at him with wide eyes. he wanted to, so badly, to just grab your face and press your lips together, to pour the love he’s had for you for the past four years out and cherish you with everything that he has.

“yu?” you spoke softly, your voice barely above a whisper, your breath fanning against his lips.

his eyes immediately snapped to yours and he flinched back like a deer in headlights. “so— so when do i take this off?” he pointed to his face. “the mud mask.. when does it come off?”

you looked at him curiously, your eyebrows slightly pinched together as you tried to make sense of what was happening, if anything even really happened.

“almost..” you responded, unfocused. “in about five minutes.”

yuta quickly nodded and pressed his lips into a thin line, his hands clenched so hard into tight fists that his knuckles turned white.

he couldn’t look you in the eye. what the fuck was he doing? he was going to scare you away if he kept doing things like this, if he kept almost slipping up and doing something that could jeopardize your friendship with him.

your trust.

you nudged his shoulder with your finger, and he finally looked at you.

“is the face mask bothering you that much?” you said with a silly smile, and yuta physically deflated, affection pumping through his system.

“no baby,” he shook his head. “i like it! i think i should keep it on for the rest of the night and go to class with it tomorrow morning.”

you snorted and shook your head, “don’t be mean.”

he raised his hands up frantically, “i’m not! you think everybody has the privilege of getting a free facial by their pretty best friend?” he held up his index finger and wiggled it side to side. “i don’t think so.”

you giggled, so much, and grabbed the warm damp towel again, scooting closer to him by your knees. you began wiping away the mask on his face, being careful of not going too rough in fear of accidentally irritating and hurting him. yuta held you by the hips, assisting in keeping your balance and rubbing little circles into your stomach with his thumbs.

your cheeks went a little pink after a bit.

as the rest of the night went on, and when you both finally settled into bed facing each other— his hand on the side of your hip, you softly traced the rather dark bags under his eyes and frowned.

“you need to get more sleep, yu. i think you’ve had these bags since you were fifteen.”

“it’s because i always grind so i can buy you a big white house with a wiener dog and a picket fence.”

you laughed a little too loud and slapped a hand over your mouth, leaning forward and resting your forehead against his as your shoulders shook. when you settled down, you removed your hand and smiled sweetly.

“only if the house comes with you.”

yuta’s breath hitched, and his eyes searched yours desperately, for any indication that maybe, just maybe, you…

no.

“what… you want me as a roommate?”

you playfully rolled your eyes and gently shoved his shoulder.

yuta was twenty years old when he confessed to you.

it was also the first big fight you guys ever had in your entire years of knowing each other.

your relationship stayed the same, two peas in a little pod through college that never seemed to go to one place without the other, so much so that when you did, people would often ask where the other half was. he loved it. he loved you so much, and he found it harder and harder and more heart breaking for him as the years went by watching you not be his in any way shape or form.

every time he visited your campus or went with you to your college parties, he noticed the lurking eyes it seemed like every guy had on you everywhere you went, and it agitated yuta more than anything else. he was still a stubborn brat, and instead of doing something about it and maybe telling you how he feels, he just endures the pain and scowls at their glances, leading you through crowds by the hand or by the small of your back.

he never really indulged in the traditional college experience like you did, and never ever talked to any other girl besides you. he never wanted to or had any interest in doing so, regardless of you returning his feelings or not. you also never really talked to any other guy besides yuta or made any mention of your dating life, people mostly assuming you both were.

yuta weaved through the crowd, trying to spot a place for the both of you to sit while you went to get drinks from the kitchen. upon finally breaking free from the pile of dancing sweaty bodies, he recognized one of your girl friends and a couple of others sitting on a long lounge sofa, her eyes perking up.

“y/n’s boyfriend! you came?”

he stopped a bit, then smiled wide.

“yeah! she’s in the kitchen now by the way, she’ll be over here in a second.”

and when you did come over, already a bit tipsy from the line of shots you got pulled into while getting drinks, you walked over to where yuta sat while greeting your friends, handing him a red solo cup. and instead of sitting in the spot yuta had saved for you right beside him, you settled neatly on his lap.

his eyes nearly bulged out of their eye sockets as you swung an arm around his shoulders for support and made yourself comfortable. you had never done something like this, and he swallowed the huge lump in his throat as trembling hands settled around your waist and over your lap. his arm tingled with the feeling of your thighs underneath, afraid to put his hands anywhere near them in fear of making you uncomfortable or accidentally grabbing your face and making out with you.

but the chance of that happening wasn’t anywhere near impossible, as he was already tipsy by his drink and his hand was already gently caressing over the skin of your soft plush thighs.

best friends don’t do things like this.

and he did not give a single fuck.

your boobs were practically shoved up in his face, his pinky cheeks absolutely blazing as his eyes darted to every corner of the house and anywhere else that wasn’t your tits, his lips itching to feel, to taste.

the night progressed and the both of you got increasingly more and more drunk, clinging on to each other on the couch or stumbling through the house, laughing when one of you would trip and almost face plant on the hardwood floors, leaning on to each other for support.

“your boyfriend almost knocked over the tub of tropical mix in the kitchen!” your girl friend yelled over the loud booming music, laughing.

yuta expected you to correct her, but you didn’t, and only laughed along with her.

“no it wasn’t him! it was me,” you giggled drunkenly, your arms around his neck as his were tight around your waist, your group standing off to the side of the dance floor. “he had to grab me and pull me from it!”

and that’s how it often was, just you and him. you taking care of him and him taking care of you in every way possible, trying to pay you back for all of the years you spent being there for him when he was younger and way more, simply because he wanted to.

and on a night where yuta was studying for finals in his room, his brother that was visiting from college came in and sat down on the edge of his bed.

“you studying?” he asked.

yuta nodded, not bothering to take his eyes away from his notebook, still scribbling down his notes. he never really had the best relationship with his brother, much less after what had happened with you getting rejected by him.

his brother took a deep breath through his nose and nodded. “i um… are you still friends with y/n?”

that caught his attention, and yuta’s eyes lifted from his notes to look at him. “yes? i’m with her like, most of the time. if you haven’t noticed.”

“no i have,” his brother murmured. “how is she?”

yuta took a second to respond. “she’s good.”

“that’s good that’s good. does she um- does she still have the same number?”

yuta put down his pencil and leaned back against his desk chair. “why?”

“i wanted to just catch up with her is all,” he shrugged. “i saw her when you brought her here for mom’s birthday and i hadn’t seen her since graduation.”

“catch up with her?” yuta mumbled. “since when do you give a shit about y/n?”

his brother scoffed. “i always have, yuta.”

“didn’t seem like it when you rejected her and started dating one of her close friends like the next day.”

his brother didn’t say anything, and yuta rolled his eyes at the lack of response, picking his pencil back up to continue his work.

“i still have her on social media and see what she’s up to… she posts you a lot. are you guys like— a thing?”

yuta bit the inside of his cheek. “no.”

his brother visibly relaxed for whatever reason and nodded. “i just want to talk to her again, is all. maybe buy her dinner—”

yuta pushed his textbook away, dropped his pencil again and spun around, looking at him with narrowed eyes. “fuck no.”

his brother scoffed. “i’m not asking for permission—”

“fuck no.”

“yuta i’m your brother i literally took you to school everyday and took care of you—”

“y/n did that.” yuta cut him off. “y/n gave me rides to school when i didn’t have my license and bought me food when i didn’t have a job. she also came to every single one of my games regardless of the weather and helped me with my homework when i was too stupid to figure it out on my own, everything you should’ve done.”

“that’s not true—”

“yes it is.” yuta crossed his arms in annoyance. “she didn’t have to do any of that. she never had to take care of me the way that she did but she did it anyways. she took on your role because you were too busy being a dingus doing god knows what and she knew that. y/n has done more for me than you’ve ever done in your entire twenty two years of living.”

his brother sat there in silence, yuta’s heavy angry breathing being the only thing heard in the room.

“okay well—” his brother stood from his bed and walked over to the door. “i’m just going to text her—”

“why the fuck are you gonna meddle into her life now? what… are you bored? are you not satisfied with whatever fucking girl you find up there at school?” yuta threw his arms up in irritation, his blood beginning to boil. “you treated her like shit. like absolute dog shit when you ignored her and avoided her for months after she confessed to you. do you understand how disrespectful that is?”

“whatever man it was high school—”

“and what, that gives you a pass to treat her like that? when that happened i was sixteen picking up the pieces you shit all over at your grown age—”

“i’m leaving.”

and with that, his brother walked out and slammed the door shut, and yuta was left absolutely red. red with anger he had never felt before in his life as he grabbed his notebook and chucked it across the room. he hated how casual he spoke of you, like you were just another girl he was going to try and get to know and fuck— to then leave without another word like his brother’s been doing his whole fucking life to girls. but not to you, it couldn’t happen to you.

and it was like yuta was going through the five stages of grief because then he was afraid. what if you let his brother back into your life? what if you fell for him again? you’d done it before the chances were not zero of you doing it again.

yuta didn’t want to lose you. he would rather gauge his eyes out and eat them for breakfast.

with that, yuta stumbled through his room putting on his shoes and snatching his car keys from his night stand, running down the hall and slamming the front door shut before getting in his car.

the drive was only about fifteen minutes to your house, and he felt so bad that it was nearly two in the morning and he was most likely going to wake you up, but he couldn’t stand it. he was going absolutely crazy, everything in him gnawing and eating him alive, his brother having pushed every single button in his body and more.

his tires screeched as he pulled into your driveway, thankful that your parents were away on a getaway trip as he slammed his car door shut and made his way up to your front door. yuta rang your doorbell twice before you finally opened it.

slowly, you peeked your tired eye through the slit, and your body immediately relaxed at the sight of him. “oh my god yuta, you scared the absolute shit out of—”

you stopped, your face falling at his livid expression and the way his chest heaved erratically. “yu? are you okay? what’s going on—”

but yuta only pushed passed you and trudged up your stairs without another word. dumbstruck, you closed your front door with a click and locked it, following him up the stairs and into your room.

“what’s wrong?”

“my brother is visiting from college.” he mumbled, sitting stiff on your desk chair. you moved to stand in front of him.

“…you mentioned that yeah—”

“and he… he told me that he wants to reach out to you.”

your eyebrows furrowed, taken aback. “me? for what?”

“he says he wants to catch up with you, see how you’re doing. be friends again i guess.”

yuta’s eyes remained stuck to the floor like glue, and you remained silent as you processed his words, confused out of your mind.

“i mean… i mean i guess? i guess that’s fine—”

his head snapped up, “that’s fine?”

you shrugged, “yes? i don’t see the big deal i don’t—”

“baby—” he shook his head in disbelief. “he absolutely broke you and treated you like nothing in high school, and you’re fine letting him back into your life? great.”

you narrowed your eyes at him. “why are you being like that? he just wants to be friends again and that’s fine with me—”

yuta scoffed. “he doesn’t deserve it! he doesn’t deserve you—”

“yuta, whatever happened between your brother and i was years ago! i’m over it! this isn’t a big fucking deal!”

you hated fighting with him, god how much you hated it, and the way that he looked at you now was making you absolutely sick.

“so you’re just gonna be friends with him again?” he shrugged, looking at you with narrowed eyes.

“yeah?”

“you’re fucking stupid,” he spat, getting up from your desk chair and walking over to the door, reaching for your doorknob.

you instantly grabbed his shoulder and spun him around to face you. “what the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“what’s wrong with me?!” he raised his voice, jabbing a finger to his chest. “what’s wrong with you! do you not remember how bad you got when he did what he did?! do you really think i would stand here okay with you rekindling your little love for my brother?”

you scoffed, “my little love?!”

and before you knew it, angry tears were streaming down your face. you hated the way he was talking to you, and you didn’t know how your argument escalated so quickly and so drastically as you wiped your cheeks furiously.

and at the sight of you crying, yuta faltered slightly, his eyes softening.

“why do you think i still love him? i don’t! i haven’t since he rejected me!—”

“who says you won’t start again?” he spoke lowly, arms crossed over his chest. “my brother never had to lift a fucking finger for you to be head over heels for him. you don’t give a shit about yourself and you’re willing to throw yourself at him again—”

“shut up.” you spat, sobs raking through your body. “the fact that you’re stuffing a bunch of fucking words into my mouth and assuming i’m going to jump into your brothers arms is bullshit.”

“i—”

“is this how low you think of me?”

“no baby i don’t—”

“yes you clearly do because everything that’s come out of your mouth—”

“no! no i’m sorry i don’t—”

“then why—”

yuta shoved his hands into his hair exasperated, “because i love you!”

he let his arms fall limp, his eyes glossy and red with the most gut wrenching look on his face that read pure exhaustion. you had never seen him so torn.

“i love you and i love you and i have since since i was fifteen,” his voice shook with each word, hands trembling at his sides. “more than a best friend, more than anything in this world, and i never saw you like another sibling like you did for me.”

“fi.. fifteen?” you spoke so softly he almost didn’t hear you.

he nodded sadly, silent tears slipping down his cheeks and you automatically reached up, softly wiping them away with your thumbs as he closed his eyes, much like how yuta did when you got your heart broken by his brother on that rainy day.

yuta never cried.

“i swallowed it. you loved my brother and i swallowed it. i didn’t give a shit if you only saw me as a sibling because i would rather make some type of mark in your life and be in it than not have you at all. but i can’t take it anymore.”

he let out a sob, and he instantly shoved his face in the crook of his arm in embarrassment.

“yu…”

“you mean absolutely everything to me baby,” his voice was muffled a bit by his elbow, and after roughly wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his sweater, he dropped his arm to look at you again. “i would do absolutely a-anything for you. you’re precious to me and the prettiest girl i have ever laid my eyes on and will ever lay my eyes on.”

he hiccuped and crossed his arms over his chest, staring up at your ceiling. “but i know you don’t love me like i love you. i’ve known for years and i just can’t bring myself to let you go. it’s so bad that i would rather you break my heart over and over again than let you go for the sake of my wellbeing and watch you walk out of my life—”

“yuta, can you please look at me?”

“i— i can’t,” he shook his head as his voice trembled, tears slipping from the sides of his eyes as he continued to stare at your ceiling. “i can’t do it—”

you slowly reached out and cupped his wet cheeks in the palm of your hands, tilting his face down gently to look at you, your eyes filled with remorse at the defeated look on his face.

“why didn’t you tell me?” you asked softly. “why didn’t you tell you were hurting so much?”

he shook his head slowly in your hands. “it’s not fair to you. i didn’t want to put you in a difficult position—”

“what difficult position, yu?” you spoke so gently, so sweetly to him that he almost fell to his knees. “how could you have kept this in for five years? i can’t even imagine—” you hiccuped, “i hate that you were hurting because of me-“

your voice began to contort again into sobs, and he quickly shook his head. “no baby no, it was not because of you, you did nothing wrong. you did the exact opposite.”

you wiped more of his tears with your fingers as he spoke, listening intently.

“no one gave a shit about me the way you did. not even my own parents, and not even my stupid brother that pretended like i practically didn’t exist. you were the only one that was there and you didn’t have to be. you could’ve easily ditched me at any given point and you never did, and i can’t thank you enough for giving me a reason to keep going.”

he wiped his eyes. “and that’s why i fell in love with you so hard because you were so selfless and sweet and i love your smile. i don’t think i could ever make up for everything you’ve done—”

“but you have!—” you interjected, but yuta only shook his head.

“no i haven’t. i’m a stubborn asshole who just said a bunch of shit five minutes ago that i didn’t mean and i only hurt you and i never wanted that—”

“yuta.” you spoke firmly. “you’ve literally done more for me than anyone else in my entire life and i hate that you can’t see that or give yourself credit. you were there for me when i went absolutely insane after your brother rejected me even though you loved me then. you put your own feelings aside to take care of me baby..”

you softly took his hands and led him to sit with you on the bed, wiping his wet cheeks with your sleeve.

“do you not remember when even though you didn’t have a job, any chance you got money you would spend it on me instead of yourself?” you laughed softly. “the minute you got your license you drove me anywhere i wanted… and even to little things like the store because you said you didn’t want me to spend gas money.”

yuta slightly smiled.

“you never ditched me either, when there was every opportunity you could’ve. you always make sure i eat and get enough sleep… and you make me so happy yu, i wish you could see how much i miss you when you’re not around.”

he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and leaned in, softly planting a kiss to your cheek. you smiled warmly.

“who told you i didn’t love you back?”

yuta froze. “you did?”

“when?”

“the day my brother rejected you?” he cocked his head to the side. “i had asked you if you saw me as another sibling and you said yes.”

you threw your head back and moaned, “oh my god yu, of course in that moment because i was stupid and into your brother and i had just gotten rejected!”

you deflated and smiled at him warmly then, your eyes shining with emotions he didn’t allow himself to believe were there. for five years, yuta forced himself to believe you could never return his feelings as a form of protection, and now there was a huge wall in his brain that was itching to come down.

you scooted closer to him and wrapped your arms around his neck, your foreheads touching. “ask me again.”

“hm?” he was dazed, wide eyes staring into yours.

“ask me that question again,” you spoke softly. “the one from that day.”

yuta swallowed thickly, his breathing shaky through his nose, reiterating the phrase he played through his head like a broken record since it happened.

“as another sibling…” he murmured. “is that how you see me?”

you shook your head gently against his forehead, “no… to me—” you leaned back slightly and tilted your head to the side. “you look like the man i’ve been in love with for the past three years.”

silence. nothing.

and then, his eyes welled with tears as he tackled you down and just cried. he cried and he cried into your neck and shook like a little leaf, you holding him so unbelievably tight as your bottom lip wobbled. yuta’s arms were snaked around you as he held you with just as much force if not more.

half a decade. half a decade yuta spent hopelessly lovesick for you that your words burned over his entire body like a fever, his mind reeling and hazy. he held on to you so fucking tight and refused to let go of you, in fear that this was all just some horrendous sick dream and he was going to wake up alone in his bed without you.

you placed a hand on the back of his head as you hugged him, “i love you so much yuta that sometimes i feel like im going nuts.” you laughed softly. “it was always you… it’s been you that’s why i said earlier that i didn’t care if your brother wanted to be friends again, because i love you and i don’t give a shit about him and i’m sorry i made you upset—”

“no,” he lifted his head from the crook of your neck and looked at you, his cheeks flushed with dried up tears and red eyes. “that was just me being an absolute dick and scared of re-living high school all over again. i took that out on you and that wasn’t fair at all, baby. i’m sorry.”

you carded your fingers through his hair. “we both have things to be sorry about, and a lot of years to make up for.”

and finally, yuta grinned so big that his cheeks hurt.

“can i—“ he exhaled shakily. “can i kiss you?”

“please.”

and he smashed his lips against yours, greedily kissing you with so much desperation as he lip locked with you, his hands squeezing and roaming your body. the sound of your lips smacking was loud, and his kisses were so needy and sloppy against your soft plush lips that you squeaked at the intensity. you felt him grin again at your noise and he pulled away from you.

“i’ve wanted this for so long…” he breathed out, his breath fanning against your face as you tried to recover from what was probably the best kiss of your life. you nodded frantically, too dazed and caught up in the thought of his mouth on yours to respond with sentences that made sense.

he chuckled cutely at this, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “i love you and i love you.”

and since then, it was like the final wall had finally crumbled down, and yuta began to live like he was supposed to, like he was meant to, with you. his days of yearning and silent torment were over, and most of the time it still felt like a dream whenever he was by your side.

things stayed relatively the same between you two, as you now acknowledge how much of a couple you both actually were acting prior to yuta’s confession. the only major difference now though, was that yuta earned the privilege to call you his and give you sweet kisses as he picked you up from class, or when you make and hand him those ham sandwiches you always do just for him, only this time adorned with a honeyed kiss of your own.

sitting on his living room couch now, your head resting on his lap as a random horror movie played in the background, yuta’s fingers gently brushed over the features of your face as you stared at the tv, his eyes stuck to you like sticky lovesick glue.

you turned your head to look at him after a bit. “why don’t you start playing soccer again?” you hummed. “is there a team at your school?”

yuta nodded, “there is baby.”

“why don’t you try out?” you smiled sweetly at him, and his heart ached. “i always loved watching you play. i miss it.”

“okay,” he tapped your nose. “just for you.”

you rolled your eyes playfully. “and i’ll start dragging your brother with me again.”

yuta’s eyes flung open as his jaw dropped, and you snorted, giggling uncontrollably as he tickled and pinched at your sides. “i’m just kidding! i’m kidding! i’d rather die.”

he let out a boyish laugh, his eyes sparkling as he looked down at you. “as much as i hate him, i can’t thank him enough for being a stupid dingus.”

you quirked an eyebrow, “thank him? why?”

yuta gently and softly pinched one of your cheeks as he smiled at you, and it was then that you noticed the bags under his eyes were nearly gone. he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips, moving some of your hair away from your face after he did so.

“because he brought you to me.”

and you smiled, that same radiant sweet smile that made him fall in love with you in the first place, as you reached up and ran a tender finger under where his eye bags once stood, your voice light and airy as you spoke—

“i love you and i love you, yuta.”

[labelneo]

i’m a good girl, officer.

summary: junho hadn’t been the same since his disappearance. he wanted to make it up to you.

pairing: husband!junho x detective!reader

length: 5k words

warnings: 18+, dni w/ this fic if you are a minor!!, female reader, pet names, junho praising reader, dirty talk, fingering, oral (f receiving), p in v, cream pie, marriage problems resolved through make up sex, passionate sex, junho bending you over his office desk, unprotected sex

AUTHOR’S NOTE: request are open! also, lmk if you would like to be on my squid game fics tag list!

Sitting in your office across from Junho’s, you had spent the past few hours at the station looking through active cases you were working on. Your office was only being filled by the sound of you flipping pages, and your attention was set on the work in front of you until you heard footsteps coming into the hall. You look up from your desk to see your husband as he walks straight past your door and into his office, slamming his door shut in the process. 

Not even a good morning, you think to yourself. Rude. 

But, not surprising. You would be wrong if you didn’t admit that your husband’s recent behavior had been, well, frustrating. You had already almost lost your mind the day you received a call from your shared boss about some fisherman having found his body in the middle of the ocean with a gunshot wound in his shoulder, and he wasn’t making the situation you both were in now any easier. 

The weeks following his disappearance had been more than confusing. He swore he couldn’t remember what had happened to him, but you knew better than that. After all, you both worked the same profession that required skills such as reading people. Also, he was your husband for goodness sake. You knew his quirks, and you especially knew when he was lying. You’d watch how he would break out in a sweat in the middle of the night, how he would keep a map stashed away at his desk and at your shared apartment with different islands having been circled, hiding it to make sure you never saw it, or how he seemed more vigilante when the two of you traveled on the subway. He swore nothing was wrong, but you knew better. 

So, one day, after work, you had had enough of Junho and his behavior. You were tired of the secrets and the sneaking out in the middle of the night when he thought you were asleep. Dinner between the two of you had been quiet that evening, and you had had enough at that point. Slamming your dishes down into the sink, you cursed at Junho, asking him what was going on with him. He was hesitant, but he knew he couldn’t keep hiding the truth from you any longer. He knew you were good at your job, so he knew he needed your help as well. He told you about the island, the games, and about a man named Gi-hun. You were shocked to say the least, but you knew he was telling the truth. You believed him, and you made sure to let him know you would help him to take down the games. 

Yet, him telling you the truth didn’t smooth out the rough spot your marriage was in. Junho had become so focused on bringing the games down, he also had lost focus on the intimacy between the two of you. He didn’t ever seem up for anything anymore, and although you knew how occupied he kept himself because how important taking down the games was to him, you missed him more than you let on. You missed his attention; you missed his touch. 

So, you hated how easy it seemed for him to ignore you at home and, now, also at work. If he didn’t want to have sex with you at home because he was “too tired” to do anything due to how busy he was, fine. It hurt your feelings, but you knew how determined he was. But, he didn’t have to ignore you at work either. You were still his co-worker.

I’m also your wife, you asshole. 

You let out a huff, not sure what to do. This behavior had already been going on for a while, so you try your best to let it go. 

When lunch hour came around, you got up from your desk and grabbed your coat from the back of your chair. If Junho wasn’t going to remember to put in effort into the relationship because of how busy he was, you decided it would be best for you to remind him that he was still married. There was a new spot you wanted to try, and you were hoping the two of you could spend the afternoon having lunch together. 

However, your intentions were halted when you saw Junho walk out of his office, not even stopping to glance in the direction of yours. You quickly put on your coat, rushing out your office door before he disappears to wherever he has to go now. 

“Junho!” 

Turning when he heard you calling out for him, Junho stopped walking out the building. “Hey, I have to go. Can we talk later? I’m meeting up with Gi-hun for lunch.”

You blink slowly in amusement at your husband. A part of you wanted to blow up on him at that moment, but you knew better than to do that at work, especially when the front desk workers were now staring at the both of you. So, you don’t say anything. And, Junho, being too busy in that moment with regards to what he and Gi-hun were meeting up to discuss, walked out the door when you didn’t say anything to stop him from walking out the building. 

Another two hours go by before you see your husband come back from his meeting. It’s the same routine, walking past your office, not saying anything to you, walking straight into his office, and closing the door behind him. 

Again, a part of you is telling you to let it go, but you have had enough at this point. Getting up from your chair, you make your way to his office, not bothering to knock. Junho felt himself get upset for a second thinking someone had walked into his office without knocking and unannounced, until he realized it had been you. 

“Y/N,” Junho says, looking back down at the map on his desk, “if it isn’t important, I’m busy right now. Can we talk when we get home?”

You look down at the same map that had been getting more attention than you had been getting for the past few months. You shake your head and scoff at your husband, who doesn’t look up even when you're standing right in front of him. 

“Junho,” you start to say, and Junho can hear the tone in your voice, “I’m your wife, you remember that right?”

Junho, confused by the question, looks up at you as he frowns. He knew you were his wife, he went home to you every day.

“Of course I know that. What are you getting at?” 

You tip your head to the side slightly, almost as if you were trying to get your thoughts across to him without saying anything directly. “You didn’t say good morning to me this morning.”

Junho huffs in response, not amused with what you had said. “I’m sorry, I had a lot to do once I got here.” He didn’t understand what was so important about it. 

“You didn't say good morning to me at home either.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I have a lot of work to do, okay? Whatever this is, we can talk about it at home.”

“That’s the thing, Junho,” you respond, bringing your hands out in front of you, “You have a lot of work today. You also had a lot of work yesterday, and the day before, and you’ll have a lot of work tomorrow too. We won’t talk about it when you get home because this is the way it’s been for months now!”

Junho looks up at you, rubbing his forehead due to now feeling bothered himself. “Do you think this is an appropriate conversation to be having at work?”

“Do you think the way you've been treating me has been an appropriate way to treat your wife?”

Junho doesn't say anything. He’s not sure what to say, and you don’t feel like talking to the wall he has become. You turn on your heel and make your way out his office, knowing that his silence was his answer to what you had just said. 

“Whatever, Junho. When you decide to act like my husband again, let me know.” 

You went home at your usual time that day, and that night, Junho went home later than you had. It was nothing new to either of you, but Junho felt especially guilty having done that the same day as the argument you both had had at the station. He had gone home to find you already asleep in your shared bedroom, analyzing your body while you laid peacefully under the sheets.

He missed you, just as much as you missed him. He knew things hadn’t been the same between the two of you, but he hadn’t realized how affected you had become because of it. You were right, he hadn’t been giving the attention you deserved. 

You had been there for him those days he laid in the hospital after he had been found, and you didn’t call him crazy like his boss had when he told you about the games. You had stuck with him through all the thick and thin he had been going through, and he hadn’t repaid you for how patient you had been with him.  

The next day at work, you wake up and make your way to the station. You had woken up to an empty bed that morning, and you’d be lying if you didn’t admit that it stung you more than usual. After the talk you had with Junho the previous day, you thought something would have changed, but you had ended up being wrong. 

You were surprised to get to the office and see that Junho was already in his office, his door unusually open. You ignore it, not wanting to have another confrontation. 

Making your way to your office and sitting in your chair, everything was happening as it usually does, until you heard a knock at your door. Looking up, you see your husband standing there. It surprises you, given that he seemed to never give you much attention at work anymore. 

“Would you,” he says, leaning against the door frame, “want to get lunch with me, later?”

Your eyes widen in surprise. You couldn’t remember the last time he had asked you to spend time together. Nodding in agreement, a small smile falls on your face. Junho smiles back in response, telling you to go to his office during lunch hour once you were ready to go. 

Once it does, you make your way to your husband’s office, a small spring in your step, you think this is finally the chance to spend some time with your husband. 

That is until you go inside to see that he wasn’t in office anymore. You think he may have just gone to the restroom or taken a phone call outside. You decide to sit in his chair and wait for him to come back. There’s no way he would just bail on you. 

Right?

As you wait, 5 minutes turns into 10, and then 20, and then 30, and suddenly, an hour has already gone by. You had kept yourself busy reading through his case files and looking at that stupid map a dozen times before you got up from his seat.

Screw him.

You don’t know why you even had your hopes up. Junho had, yet again, ignored you completely after having gotten your hopes up. Upset, you get up from his chair and make your way out of his office and into yours, before Junho comes rushing in. He sees the look you have on your face, and he knows you're pissed. 

“Hey, look, I’m sor-”

“No,” you say, putting your hand up to stop him, “I really don't want to hear it.” 

You attempt to make your way out of his office before Junho slams his door shut and stands in front of it. 

“I’m sorry! Okay? I got a call from Gi-hun about a lead in the case, and it was urgent, so I left in a hurry.” 

You shake your head. “I really don’t care, Junho. One afternoon! You couldn’t even make time to spend one afternoon getting lunch with me. It’s like you don’t even care anymore.” 

Junho shakes his head back at you. “That’s not true, and you know that.”

“Do I?” You respond back. “It’s like you don't even remember that we’re married. You never pay me any attention anymore.” 

You continue to question him, sensing all your feelings crash down all at once. “You don’t say good morning to me in the morning anymore, you don’t say bye before you leave to where ever it is you go on the weekend, you don’t give me any updates on the case, and you ignore me at home and at work. We don’t spend any time together anymore because you're always too busy. I mean Junho…do you not love me anymore?”

Junho freezes at the last part of your statement. Of course he loves you. He knew he hadn't been the best husband lately, but how could you possibly think that?

You sigh in frustration. You've already said too much, you think, might as well keep going. “You don’t want to do anything with me anymore, and…you don’t even want to sleep with me anymore. So, I don’t know what to think.” 

Junho’s eyes soften as he hears you talk, shifting around on his feet. He feels guilty. He never intended for you to ever feel unwanted, and he, especially, never intended for you to feel unloved. 

“I’m sorry, baby.”

You lock eyes with Junho. Baby. You couldn't remember the last time he had called you something lovingly. 

“I never wanted you to feel that way.” Junho stepped towards you to get rid of the space between the two of you, bringing you into an embrace. You’re still upset, and you know you shouldn't, but you melt into his touch. You knew you needed to be stronger, but you were desperate for any kind of attention from him at this point. 

Junho leans back to look at your face. He sees your pout, and he leans down to peck your lips. 

Junho’s testing the waters, and when you don’t retaliate when he kisses you, he kisses you again. He wants to make up the way he’s been treating you. Junho goes in for another kiss, and this time, he picks you up, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist. You let out a squeal at his action before he finds your lips again. You know you should probably try to talk things out more, but you're loving this new found attention. Once he has you wrapped around him. Junho doesn’t stop kissing you even when he sits you down on his desk, and you don't mind. He has his hand on the back of your neck, having a constant pull on you to keep you close to his lips. His other hand is placed on your thigh and you feel his touch shooting up your body. 

You can’t help but sneak your hands under his shirt, feeling him up. You knew your husband was fit, but you didn't mind the reminder of what he has under his shirt as you felt his stomach and abs. Junho doesn't mind either, your touch sending chills down his body. He was sensitive to your touch, especially since he hadn’t felt you touch in a while. 

And, god, did he miss it. It was his own fault, he knew that. He never meant to neglect you in any way, he had just been so busy trying to solve his own dilemmas that he had forgotten to balance out his attention on both you and his problems. 

Junho kisses you down your neck, and you throw your head back at the sensation. His soft lips travel all the way down to your collar bone thanks to your button up. His hands are on your thighs, gripping them hard as he concentrates on the soft moans coming from your mouth. He can feel the bulge growing in his pants, and he lets out a moan of his own when he feels you waste no time in starting to grind yourself against it. 

Taking a step back, he listens as you whine at the distance he’s just created. You look down at him up and down, seeing the way his cock is starting to become more pronounced under his pants. You reach out for him, needing him close to you before he grabs your hands and puts them on your side. Shaking his head slightly, he takes a step back to you before reaching down to the buttons of your pants, slowly unbuttoning them as he doesn't break eye contact with you. 

“Let me make it up to you, baby.” 

You don’t say anything as he finishes unbuttoning your pants. He pulls your pants completely off, discarding them onto the floor before connecting his lips with yours again. Up to this point, his kisses had been gentle, almost like an apology. This time, his kiss is desperate, needy. His hands are back at your thighs, gripping them. He had forgotten how soft you were. He had missed this feeling just as much as you had, and you're driving him crazy as your hands touch him all over. 

Junho pulls away, and just as you were about to complain again, you watch him lower himself to kneel down infront of you. He takes his time to press kisses from your ankle and make his way up, slowly and steadily. He kisses up your exposed inner thighs, not breaking eye contact with you once.  Your legs start to shake, excited at the idea of Junho finally giving you the attention you've been craving for months now. He nips at your inner thighs, loving the way you twitch at the feeling. He can see the dampness becoming more and more prominent on your undies, causing him to smirk. 

“I want to make you feel good, gorgeous.”

You don’t say anything. All you feel is your pussy pulsing more and more as Junho gets closer and closer to your heat. He’s barely started, and he’s already driving you crazy. 

Junho takes wet kisses the rest of the way up your thighs before licking your clothed pussy. You shiver at the sensation, letting out a moan. Your sounds only fuel his need to please you. He takes long licks at your inner thigh, wanting to make you more impatient for his attention. Once he’s satisfied with his work, having left small bruises to your soft, plush thighs, he pulls your panties to the side, groaning when he sees how wet you are. 

“Look at you, already so wet for me.”

Junho leans in, placing his tongue on your wetness and taking a lick. You reach out to grab him, running your hand through his hair before settling and gripping at his hair, feeling yourself getting lost in the feeling. He could feel his dick leaking and twitching in his pants, loving the feeling of you grabbing at him and enjoying how quickly he could undo you in minutes. He doesn’t take a second to slow down, eating you out in the ways he knew you liked. Moving his tongue up and down, he takes in your taste while moaning against your cunt, the vibrations of his voice causing your pussy to clench around nothing. You were in desperate need for him to fill you up, but his tongue was doing wonders against you. Swirling his tongue around, he can feel you getting sensitive, feeling how you instinctively start to pull away from him. Realizing, he grabs your waist with his hands and pulls your body closer to his face. 

Continuing to swirl his tongue around, he takes a long, wet lick up your slit before he focuses his attention on your clit. Sucking on it, he feels like he's about to cum just looking at you as your eyes roll back, your back arches on his desk, and how your breasts pop out more out your chest. He hadn’t even realized you had unbuttoned your shirt and taken out your breasts. 

Moaning at the site, he lets his mouth come off you with a loud, wet pop. Your panting only fueled him to keep making you feel good with his attention. Leveling himself, he takes a long lick from your lower belly all the up your chest before he takes one of your nipples into his mouth while looking up at you, sucking on it like he was hungry to take as much of you in as he could. The view of him under your eye sight, him giving all his attention with his eyes looking up at you through his lashes with praise and admiration, you feel yourself starting to remember how good your husband had become in pleasing you during your time together. Before you can even catch your breath, Junho takes one of his hands to your breast, massages it with his palm. His other hand makes its way down to your now dripping pussy, barely hovering over it before you start grinding yourself against his fingers. 

He was intoxicated with your noises of pleasure and the taste of you. The sight of you coming undone in front of him on his desk, your legs spread open and your pussy dripping for him made him think about all the other dirty things he wanted to do to you. Taking his lips off your now raw and exposed nipple, he easily thrusted his fingers into you from how wet you were. Your eyes are closed, so you can’t see the way Junho is looking at you, but his stare is all set on your now. He checks you out, he couldn’t believe he had let you, his wife, go this long without this kind of attention. You were, to him, the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen, and now you were here, on his desk, moaning his name. Leaning forward he kisses your jaw and makes his way to your ear, taking in how your mouth is opened due to all the sensations you were feeling. 

“Look at you, sitting here so pretty for me. Are you gonna be a good girl for me?”

You hum in response, only being able to concentrate on his fingers and how he curled his fingers inside of you. He chuckles, showing off the smile that drove you crazy. By now, you’re a mess, and Junho doesnt think he can wait any longer. You’re sitting on his desk, legs spread out and your chest completely exposed. Before you can even think about something to say, Junho removes his fingers instead of you, much to your disappointment. You watch as he brings his fingers up to his mouth, sucking on them. 

You had forgotten how crazy Junho could make you. 

By now, your pussy is throbbing, and you feel the need for Junho to be inside you. Junho can’t ignore the tightness in his pants anymore, and he quickly moves to remove his shirt from off his body. You watch as his lower stomach is exposed, to his chest, until he no longer has his shirt on anymore. His abs are as defined as always, but you still reach out to feel him up all the way up to his chest. Junho is no longer in the mood for teasing or simple touches, he needed to feel himself inside of you. 

Finally reaching for his pants, you look down to see how he takes off his pants and boxers in a swift motion down to his ankles, his dick springing free. Junho was your husband, so obviously you had slept with him before. But after going this long without sex, you stare in awe at his dick, red and leaky. You knew he was big, but you didn’t remember him being that big. 

“This is what you do to me, baby.” Junho takes his own hand down to his own member, stroking it while you watch him. Junho grabs your chin, guiding you to look at him. There’s a gloss in your eyes, and he knows he has you right where he wants you to be, needy for him. 

“Are you going to be a good for me, mh? Are you gonna let me make you feel good?”

A whiny mhm comes out your mouth. You'd be whatever he wanted you to be. A good girl comes out his lips before he’s flipping you over on his desk, grabbing your waist and pulling your ass up to give him access to stick his cock inside of you. You whine softly, pushing your ass back into him, feeling desperate for him to fill you up. The hardness of his cock against you is making you excited, and Junho can’t help but take in the sight of you in front of him. The plumpness of your ass against his cock only makes him feel more and more turned on. His head is now red and needy for you. Junho slaps his cock against your ass before he guides it into your folds, letting your dripping pussy get all over him. He grips your ass at the feeling before Junho thrusts himself into you, and he can’t stop himself from praising you. 

A long drawn out fuck comes out his lips at the same time you let a sensual sound come out your lips. You knew Junho didn’t like you being quiet. You knew he wanted to hear how good he was making you feel.  

Junho, on the other hand, let out a sound of pleasure at the sound feeling of you around him. He hadn’t been inside you for a while now, and he can’t believe how he could've gone this long without feeling your pussy around him. 

“Fuck baby, you feel so fucking good.”

You’re too concentrated on the feeling of Junho finally stretching you out that you almost don’t hear him. He knows you're out of it too, seeing how you don’t react to his praise. Leaning forward, he grabs your chin, turning your head to kiss you before he stops milli inches from your lips. You whine, leaning forward to kiss him before he pulls back. 

“My pretty girl, you like that? How I make you feel?” 

You let out a breathy yes, and suddenly, you feel yourself holding back screams. Junho, being your husband, knows all the squishy spots inside of you that make you go crazy, and he was making sure he filled you up exactly the way he knew you liked, the way he knew would make you cum on his dick. His office is filled with the slaps of his balls hitting your ass, and Junho now has his hands on your waist, pulling you in harder and harder back to his cock. He watches the way your ass bounces on him. The way his hands fit perfectly into the curves of your body, the way he fits inside your pussy, the way your moaning his name makes him swear to himself that you must have been made exactly for him. 

He’s stretching you out perfectly, making sure he fills you up as much as he can. You feel so good, so fucked out. You had missed this feeling so much. 

You bent over his desk, so exposed, and with your shared boss only a few doors down, you feel so dirty knowing how you loved to do it with Junho in scandalous places. You remember back to the days the two of you had been cops together, and how the both of you patrolling the same nights would end in you riding Junho in the driver seat. You couldn’t help yourself, you loved a man in uniform. 

You knew Junho wouldn’t let himself cum until you did, so you let yourself get lost in the pleasure he was giving you and the sound of his grunts until you start feeling that tightness in your womb. Junho sees how you instinctively start rocking yourself more against his cock, and he knows you're close to finishing.  

“That’s it, gorgeous. Come on my cock, baby.” 

The stretching in your pussy, the name calling, the sounds of Junho moaning your name was the perfect combination, enough to send you into your release. Junho watches as your grip at the edge of his desk. You let out a moan, calling out for him as he feels your pussy clench around him and your wetness increases. He feels himself slipping in and out of you faster, and he feels his ego rise knowing that he had made you finish as strongly as you did.  

You feel Junho’s stroke starting to get sloppy, and you feel his grip starting to become tighter around your waist. He slaps your ass, and your ass perks up at the feeling. Reaching out for his chest behind you, you run your hand against his chest, and Junho doesnt think he can take your touch and the feeling of him ramming himself into you at the same time. 

“Come for me, handsome. I’ve been a good girl. I want to feel you come inside of me.”

Junho can’t stop himself from being affected by your words, and the warmth you suddenly feel inside of you lets you know he was filling you up with his cum. You groan at the feeling, loving how his seed fills you up. 

Junho pants from his spot behind you, and you lay yourself down on his desk, trying to compose yourself as well. You’re so sensitive, but you feel so much euphoria all over your body. Junho, seeing as you're not moving, bends down and kisses you up your back, knowing how sensitive you are to the feeling. Your back aches again at the feeling.  

“Fuck, baby. Mhm. You make me feel so good.”

Junho chuckles, leaning forward a bit more to kiss your cheek. 

“I promise to always make sure to take care of my girl.”

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TAGLIST (pls let me know if you don’t want to be tagged in smut)!! : @vinaluvsu @ninglovr @okaycharr

[skyrigel]

Simon would never forget the first kiss. It was an all electrifying force reckoning inside him — It was over the bloodied limp of your pathetic ex husband.

So it happened like this, Simon Riley was head over heels for you the moment he met you in the elevator and as if by fates the damn box stopped working which resulted in Simon helping you up the stairs with the grocery and also knowing your sweet darling name. Then on and on he knew more, about your narssicist husband whom you had filed divorce against months ago.

And it wasn't until one night he heard the raised voices from the apartment hallway, and one of them which he recognised in his soul was enough to make him bolt out mindlessly with heart beats escalating every second.

“Get out ! Get off me !” You screamed as your husband grabbed both of your wrist and with a thud he pressed you against the wall.

“Listen you fucking bitch —” That was all he was able to slur before Simon grabbed the bastard by the back of his neck, pulling him back from you with one rough shove.

You breathlessly stared as Simon's eyes reached over, glancing, nodding, and softening, then back at the man you made the mistake of marrying once.

“Who are you ?” He dangled back and forth with shaking steps, eyes unfocused on Simon who didn't stop glaring. Every nerve of his neck popped out with him maintaining restraint, and not kill the man right there with bare hands.

“Get da fuck Outta here.” Simon said through clenched fist. He didn't want to make the case bad for you, he just wanted this jerk to get out of your life.

“Been a whore always —”

You saw it all in slow motion, as your husband's smirk grew around the word ‘whore’, because not getting any of the household stuff done and then proceeding to slut shame you when you hired man yourself to get appliances fixed or screws tighten or for car engine misshap was one of the first thing that you noticed, that this man was a bloody unapologetical loser.

And his dirty finger once again were too close, too threatening, that until Simon whipped around with devil in his eyes. His fist that had been clenched enough to make his knuckles go white connected with the ugly cheek of your husband, every crunch of bones was heard in clear disposition as he fell on the floor, groaning loudly.

“Don't ever touch her again !” Simon jumped over him, pulling his bloodied face up by the collar before punching him down again as he screamed.

“Don't ever hurt her again !” Another punch right on the nose. You stared, unable to move, unable to utter a single word as you watched the man who made your world worse than hell was getting beaten to pulp, each time he screamed, your heart was getting calmer.

“Don't ever fucking come near her !” Simon held open the broken jaw, his knuckles red with blood stain. Then as if a spell had been broken — his eyes lifted up to meet yours through the metallic scent of blood and terrified feeling of broken bones and maimed flesh.

He stood up, jaw unclenching, every muscle slowly relaxing. The hardness bleeding away like your husband, soon to be ex.

You knew what you felt.

“I…” Simon hesitated, like he hadn't just made you realise what you had been wanting all this time. The way he smiled around your jokes, hummed to your bad tea, picked curtains and watched stupid hallmark movies for the sake of you.

“Are you alright ?” His hand raised to touch your cheek before he dropped the stained fingers by his side.

It was silence except the crying for help which was like rat being strangled. You couldn't find any words, but nodded because your silence was breaking Simon's heart. He needed to make sure that you were okay.

But you needed to convey something more, so you took a step, not much and reached on your highest tip-toes, taking his face by both of your hand and placing your lips over his in a sweet embrace.

So traditionally Simon had to propose first to keep up the score.

Masterlist

[ttsukiimi]

───〃★ WE F⍣CK OFF & ON, OFF & ON .ᐟ

〃★ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ⎯ As the campus’s well known f⍣ckboy, Satoru Gojo wasn’t known to stick around for more than one night in one bed. Well, that unspoken rule just didn’t apply when the bed was yours.

〃★ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 ⎯ gojo x fem!reader, uni au, smut (mdni), protected s⍣x, f⍣ckboy!gojo, hair pulling, p⍣ssywhipped!gojo, mentions of alc⍣hol & bein’ drunk, dirty talk, slight dumbification.

〃★ 𝐚/𝐧 ⎯ Thank you so freaking much for 1.5K!!! 🥹

Absolutely unbearable.

If there was any way to describe the campus fuckboy, it’d be that.

He was known—infamous for his unique way of fucking women and somehow leaving them attached, yearning for him once more after just one night, while he only left unscathed with his balls empty.

Satoru Gojo was insatiable. And you hated him.

You failed to see what everyone saw in him—he was a total idiot for fucks sake! Granted, he had a pretty face and could be quite charming, and you really couldn’t say for yourself if he was that good in bed, but good things about him paled in comparison to his horrid personality. He knew how attractive he was, and used that any chance he got.

How did he manage to talk his way into and out of anything? You simply didn’t know. But you hated him.

That was…until you yourself finally had a taste of Satoru Gojo.

Drunk at a party and so utterly wasted, you’d failed to acknowledge who was hitting on you, who you got into the taxi with to drive back to who knows where. His hands all over you—so rough yet inviting, even after the alcohol in your system had gone you still found yourself pulled into a trance.

A trance that seemingly pushed you to his bed and under him. Seemingly had you moaning his name all night and for more to come.

And seemingly, now, opening the door to your apartment so he could come in. So he could come in and fuck you like he’s been doing for the past months. Well, that’s just what he thought would happen anyway.

“Satoru,” you huffed, watching as the tall freak plopped himself onto your couch, momentarily jerking his head back before he responded with a hum.

“Can you stop acting like a fool and try not to break anything for once?” You chastised, pointing to a hand of his already playing with the flowers in your prized vase—he hadn’t given you those and had no right to taint them.

The white haired man groaned, rolling his eyes and following you down the narrow hallway to your bedroom. Your steps halted at the doorway and so did his, a low snicker leaving his lips as his hands slid to your waist.

“So,” he sighed in your ear, brushing his soft lips past the skin of your neck, big hands squeezing the flesh of your ass as he snaked them down. “Y’just gonna keep on being grumpy or you gonna let me fuck?”

“Satoru,” you exasperated for what seemed like the umpteenth time, though you didn’t dare take his hands off your body, already surrendering to the feeling. “Just because we’ve been fucking doesn’t mean that I only invite you here because of that.”

You turned around to face him. “We have a project to do, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll start after I start.”

And what was Satoru’s definition of that?

It was pushing your head further down into your pillows as he absolutely ravished your cunt, simultaneously holding both your hands back with just one of his.

His thrusts were deep and calculated—to the point where it felt like he knew where every pleasurable spot inside you was. Perhaps he did.

“Dick’s got you all quiet now, hm?” he smirks, sliding his free hand up your back and to your head, pulling your hair back as he speaks. By then you were a drooling mess and as much as you’d hate to admit it—you’re practically dumb on his cock, moaning incoherent little babbles of his name and how big he feels.

Satoru grins behind you, smug because he’s got you, the most prim and proper girl on campus choking on her own saliva. It all felt so surreal, you felt surreal—your soft hips, the succulent ripple of your ass as his hips connected to it, your moans—fuck everything you did was driving him crazy. Even though it was supposed to be the other way around.

He was the one who was supposed to be ingrained in your brain—but here he was, inches deep inside your wet, reeling pussy after he swore the last time he was in your apartment would be the last.

But there’s always a reoccurring cycle with you. He just can’t stop.

“Hah—mph—slow down, S’toru!” you mewl, fat tears swelling in your waterline, your ears perking up at the rhythmic plap! plap! plap! of your sweaty bodies colliding. “If ‘m too loud my neighbors might hear,”

“Yeah? Let them hear how good I’m makin’ you feel then,” he breathes, shallow and unsteady, his toned chest moving in tandem with his inhales. The deep tremble of his voice seems to move throughout your body, vibrating through you in such a maddening way that you’re almost cumming from the feeling alone.

What was even more provoking was the way he pulsed against your gummy walls, thumping and pulsing inside you loud enough that it seemed you could hear it.

And—god was Satoru close, so close he could feel the static of his high zap though his fingers. He groaned, head thrown back in bliss as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he did so deliciously.

Your head was spinning from the mind-dizzying pleasure, eyes rolling back in what Satoru can only admit is the most remarkable expression he’s gotten out of anyone he’s fucked.

His hair was sticking to his forehead now, sweaty from how fast he was working to thrust into you at his abnormal pace. “Can I—“

“No.”

A defeated sigh and a pained grunt as he pulled out just as he was about to teeter off the edge of pleasure, taking himself in his hands and finishing the job. Satoru jerked himself as he watched you shake and convulse in euphoria, your body unwinding as you let your limbs go limp.

Cum seeped from your pussy, dripping down to your clit and sheets—and that sight was all he needed before his hot seed was spurting all over your back, the sensation causing a broken cry to leave your lips.

“Fuck,” Satoru mouthed, breathing hard as he gave your ass little smacks of approval. “That was—shit—so good.”

You nodded, head turning to the side as you watched him take off his cum-filled condom, and dump it in the trash. Satoru plopped back on your bed once he was done.

A smirk graced his lips and you rolled your eyes in annoyance, knowing nothing good could come out of that look.

“When do you think we could do it raw, hm?”

“When you get tested for every type of STD.”

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 In Pink Sheets.

Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

Summary: After spending the first night with Spencer, doubts arise about the nature of your behavior at work from now on. How could you not make it obvious that you two had already passed all the bases?

Words: 3k.

Warnings & Tags: +18 (for suggestive talk, they are naked lol, aftercare? but no explicit). bau!reader. established relationship. reader is overthinking and being dramatic (literally me). first “I love you” yep. making out interrupted. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: Literally my sheets are pink, this is personal and pure fluff to try to fix my tortured heart.

The world outside barely existed. The light filtering through the curtains felt softer, the air warmer, the distant clatter of construction dull and unimportant. Everything that mattered was here, wrapped up in the quiet rise and fall of Spencer’s chest beneath your cheek. Your pink sheets tangled around you felt almost too soft, like they might dissolve if you moved too quickly. But you didn’t want to move anyway. Not yet. Please.

His arm was placed gently around your back, and his fingers drew simple circles against your skin. You could feel his heartbeat, steady and rooted, as your breaths gradually came into sync. It was the closest you had ever been to a state of pure bliss.

You moved slightly, just enough to feel him tilt his chin down, to feel him sweep over you with a careful gaze that made you feel completely seen and literally naked. His breath caught, his throat cleared slightly, and you knew what was going to happen before he even tried.

“Don’t even think about asking if it was good,” you murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to his skin. “It wasn’t good. It was perfect.”

You definitely knew him a lot.

His chest shifted under you as a soft, nervous laugh escaped him, breaking the quiet. It wasn’t the kind of laugh that carried confidence or certainty—it was shy, almost unsure, and it made you lift your head slightly to look at him. His cheeks were flushed, a faint pink that spread up to the tips of his ears, and his lips curved in a sheepish smile as he avoided your gaze.

“What’s so funny?” You asked gently, your voice low and curious, tilting your head to study him.

He glanced at you then, his eyes meeting yours for just a second before flickering away again, as though the intensity of the moment made him squirm. His fingers, which had been tracing lazy circles on your back, paused, and you felt him take a breath like he was gathering his words.

“It’s just…” he started, his voice soft, hesitant. “I guess I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that…this is real. That you’re here. That we’re here.”

His words hung between you, vulnerable and raw, and you felt your heart ache with a warmth so deep it was almost overwhelming. You reached up, brushing your fingers along his jaw, coaxing his gaze back to yours.

“Hey,” you said softly, your thumb tracing the curve of his cheek. “I’m here. This is real. You’re finally in my bed, and now I’m probably going to have to figure out how not to smile so much at work.”

A slow, genuine smile spread across Spencer’s face at your words, and for a moment, you both just looked at each other, as if savoring the perfect reality of the moment. He exhaled, his tension easing slightly, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—something that hinted at both excitement and uncertainty.

“You think you’re going to be able to hide that smile?” He teased, his voice a little more confident now, but still carrying that softness that made your heart flutter.

“Probably not,” you replied, the hint of a smile tugging at your own lips. “But I’ll try. For the sake of professionalism, of course.” You raised an eyebrow as you added, “It’s not like anyone needs to know I had a…very good moment.”

“Moment?” He smirked, eyes glinting with amusement. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

You bit your lip, feigning innocence as a faint heat rose in your cheeks. “I didn’t want to be too explicit. You might not be able to handle it.”

“Oh, it’s far too late for that,” he quipped, his grin widening into something sly, the corners of his mouth betraying his growing confidence.

It's hard to believe that this is the same shy, awkward boy who, before he started dating you, could barely look you in the eye without stuttering or turning red.

Your eyes narrowed slightly, your tone playful but sharp as you leaned in closer. “Well, aren’t you bold now?” You tilted your head, studying him with mock seriousness. “I think I might have corrupted your innocent soul.”

And in a way you already had. For some reason, you had the genius that everyone told their secrets to because they thought he had no one to air them with, telling everything to you and having to hide his own secrets. Two months of dating and sneaking kisses were under a thousand keys, and no one suspected anything. Thank God.

It was common knowledge, especially for someone like Reid, who could recite all the FBI rules without a problem, that romantic relationships were off-limits between coworkers. Even though you understood the logic from day one and knew that feelings and professionalism could be a dangerous mix, you still couldn't help but fall for someone like Spencer without return.

However, it wasn't your fault. I mean, who wouldn't fall in love with someone they see every day and who is clearly the perfect man? You just blinked, and there you were, already dreaming about him and feeling butterflies every time you heard his nervous laughter or ramblings on different topics. If your team hadn’t noticed the way your gaze lingered a little too long or how you always seemed to brighten when he entered a room, it was pure luck.

“You know,” you began thoughtfully, breaking the silence, “I read something once…about how people can always tell when two people have…slept together.”

Reid tilted his head slightly to look at you, his brows drawing together in curiosity. “Oh?” he asked, his tone both amused and intrigued. “And where exactly did you read that?”

You hesitated for a moment, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze. “Um…” you started, biting your lip as your cheeks warmed. “It was in a magazine.”

His eyebrows lifted, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a barely contained smile. “A magazine?” he repeated, the question laced with playful skepticism.

You rolled your eyes, groaning softly as you buried your face in his chest. “Okay, okay, I know. It’s not exactly the kind of reading you’d respect, but I was sixteen, okay? It was one of those random magazines my mom had lying around the house.”

Spencer chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest beneath you. “I’m not judging,” he said, though the amusement in his voice made you peek up at him skeptically. “I just find it fascinating that a teen magazine would tackle…body language.”

Of course, he definitely wasn't the kind of person who read gossip or fashion magazines in his spare time. It was possible to believe that he had never even opened one in his life and had only seen them from afar, hanging next to the newspaper.

You groaned again, pulling a pillow closer as if to shield yourself from his teasing. “It wasn’t exactly a scientific study, okay? It was more like—‘How to Spot When Two People Have Chemistry,’ or something equally ridiculous. But it stuck with me for some reason.”

For some reason? Or because when you were bored, you played at analyzing people and their relationships?

His eyes softened, and though he was still clearly amused, he propped himself up slightly, leaning his head toward yours. “Okay, so tell me—what did this magazine say?”

You sighed dramatically, though you couldn’t keep the grin from your face. “It said people can’t help themselves. They look at each other differently. Their body language changes. The way they smile, how close they stand, the way their energy shifts. It’s like this unspoken, glowing secret, and apparently, everyone can see it.” Especially profilers.

His lips twitched again, the teasing glint in his eyes replaced with something softer. “So, according to this magazine, we’re giving off some kind of…post-coital signal?”

“Oh my, when you put it that way, it sounds even worse.” You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “That's something an old scientist would say.”

He laughed quietly, pulling your hands away so he could see your face. “Hey, I’m just trying to understand you. But I guess I can see the logic in that. People do give away a lot without realizing it.”

You exhaled, relieved that he wasn’t outright laughing at you. “Exactly,” you said, your confidence returning slightly. “And now I can’t stop thinking about how obvious we’re going to be at work. Like, what if everyone knows the second we walk in?”

It's easy to imagine your coworkers looking at you funny as soon as the elevator opens, Morgan making some jokes about your goofy smile, and you laughing in a way that makes it seem like you're not owning up to everything.

He smiled, his expression softening. “Well, if it’s true, then I think it’s more about them noticing how happy we look. Not anything…incriminating.”

“Just tell me, why would you be happy on a Monday morning?” you asked, tilting your head and narrowing your eyes in playful suspicion.

He gave a small shrug, his tone matter-of-fact. “Honestly, for us, is there even a difference? We work almost every day—it’s like weekends don’t exist.”

You chuckled at his answer, the playful spark in your eyes never quite fading. “I guess you’ve got a point here, Dr. Reid. But still, Mondays are supposed to be miserable, right? Isn’t that like, the universal rule?”

“Well, if we’re being honest, I think that’s just a myth. I mean, when you get to spend your weekends like this…” He gestured between the two of you with a light, affectionate movement, “Mondays don’t seem so bad.”

You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes with a teasing smile. “And that’s exactly why everyone’s going to know what we’ve been up to when we show up at work. It’s like you have a neon sign flashing above your head saying, ‘I had an amazing weekend.’”

Spencer chuckled softly, shaking his head as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “I don’t know if that’s true. I think we’re good at keeping things under wraps,” he said, his voice light but carrying that hint of uncertainty.

It was a good argument; he had two months in his favor.

“Just...don't point your feet at me or hug me so closely." You said with surprising seriousness. “The magazine says those are clear signs.”

“I’m not going to do anything that makes you uncomfortable,” he said quietly, his voice gentle and reassuring. “Feet and hugs, noted.”

Wow, he was taking it so seriously that it made you feel tender.

“Maybe we should act like we hate each other, put on a show.” You said, raising an eyebrow, unable to suppress a sly smile.

He gave a gasp, looking confused. “Oh, I’m not much of an actor, but if you want…”

You cut him off with a playful scoff. “It was a joke, sweetheart. I’m not really trying to pull off some dramatic office rivalry.”

“Good,” he replied quickly, his voice almost too serious, “because I don’t know how to act like I hate people I love.”

He…what?

You blinked, stunned. “People you what?” you asked, your tone catching in surprise.

His cheeks flushed a deep red, eyes darting away as though he were trying to escape the weight of his own words. “I…people I love,” he stammered.

You stayed silent, studying him, your gaze softening as the words lingered in the air between you. It was clear that this wasn’t something he said lightly, and his vulnerability made your heart ache in a way that was both comforting and new.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Spencer turned toward you, his eyes meeting yours with a fierce intensity that stole the air from your lungs. His breath was shaky, his words barely more than a whisper, but they struck you like lightning. “I love you,” he said, his voice full of quiet sincerity, each syllable wrapping around you like a promise.

He said it. He really said it.

“You love me,” you whispered, your voice shaky, as if the very sound of those words was too much to fully comprehend. You repeated it, a little louder this time, trying to grasp it, to make it real. “You, Spencer Reid, love me.”

He nodded, his eyes soft but unwavering, the faintest trace of a smile curving on his lips. “I do. Me, Spencer Reid, I love you.”

A soft, breathless laugh bubbled up from your chest, and before you could stop it, the smile that had been lurking there finally broke free. It was impossible to keep it in, not when everything inside you was overflowing with a joy you hadn’t known was possible.

“God…” you exhaled, your heart swelling with warmth. “I don’t think I can hide this smile now.”

The air between you both felt charged, like a fine thread of connection weaving you closer with each passing second. His gaze was soft but unwavering, a silent promise in his eyes that made everything else fade into the background. The gentle rhythm of his breath mingled with yours, and before you knew it, your hand instinctively found the back of his neck, your fingers brushing the soft skin there. You pulled him just a little closer, as if the pull of your desire and your heart was impossible to resist, a gravity stronger than any force you’d ever known.

He shifted beneath you, guiding you to lie on top of him. His hands were warm against your skin, and you could feel his pulse, steady and strong, under your fingertips. Slowly, your lips met in a kiss—tentative at first, as if testing the waters, but it deepened quickly, drawn by the magnetic force of everything left unsaid, all the things you were only just beginning to understand.

“You love me,” you whispered between kisses, the words tumbling out in disbelief, as if the very idea of it needed to be reaffirmed with each touch. “You love me.”

Spencer’s response was immediate, his hands finding your waist and pulling you closer, his lips skimming the sensitive skin of your jaw, his breath hot and urgent against your ear. “I love you,” he breathed softly, the words coming out as a promise, each syllable wrapped in a depth that made your heart ache.

You kissed him again, this time with a softness that felt more vulnerable, more like a question—one you didn’t need an answer to, but you couldn’t help but ask anyway. “You love me,” you murmured, not sure if you were trying to convince yourself or him. But as you pulled him closer, his lips finding yours with a quiet urgency, you knew, deep in your bones, that it was true.

His lips found yours again, this time with a fervor that left you breathless. The kiss was deep, desperate—both of you giving in to the craving that had built up between you, a need so raw and powerful that neither of you could hold back. His tongue swept against yours, slow at first, savoring every moment, every sensation. But the deeper the kiss became, the faster it escalated, a fire starting to blaze where there had once been only a flicker.

“I do,” he whispered, the words coming out in a low, steady stream as his hands slid up your back to cradle your face. His touch was gentle but firm, as if he wanted to hold you forever, as if the very act of touching you was something sacred, something worth cherishing. “I love you, I love you, I love you…”

The repetition of those words stirred something deep inside you, a quiet happiness that blossomed with every echo. You smiled against his lips, your heart swelling with warmth, and for a fleeting moment, you felt invincible, as though nothing in the world could touch you. It was just him and you, here, in this sacred space, and you didn’t care about anything else. Not the noise, not the chaos, not even time itself. Nothing mattered except this, except him.

His hands gently slid the sheet that still covered part of your body, the coolness of his fingertips contrasting with the warmth of your skin, and you couldn't help but shiver at the contact. You responded with a kiss, your lips meeting his in a passionate embrace. His mouth was everywhere: your lips, your neck, your jaw, tasting, exploring, claiming. It was as if time had stopped and there was nothing but the two of you, lost in this world of sensations and feelings.

But then, as if the universe couldn’t bear to let you stay in this blissful bubble for even a moment longer, there was a sudden, sharp buzz. It broke through the air with an almost cruel precision, pulling you both out of the fragile world you had created. You groaned into Spencer’s mouth, breaking the kiss reluctantly, your forehead resting against his. His chest was heaving beneath you, both of you struggling to regain control of your breaths, your bodies still humming with the aftershocks of the kiss.

The buzz came again, persistent, urgent. Your eyes flicked to the phone on the bedside table, and your stomach sank as you saw the name that appeared on the screen: Hotch.

His expression mirrored yours, frustration creeping across his face. “It’s a text…” he muttered, but he didn’t reach for his phone. He simply sighed and buried his face in your neck, the sudden weight of reality settling between you both.

You kissed his forehead softly, your fingers threading through his hair. “Not now…please,” you whispered, as if pleading with the universe to give you just a few more minutes of peace.

He chuckled lightly, but the sound was laced with a hint of frustration. “I’m sorry.”

You gave him a mock frown, but the smile tugging at the corners of your lips betrayed you. “How dare you,” you said with a sigh, unable to fully suppress the warmth in your chest.

Before you could kiss him again, another buzz came—sharp and relentless, interrupting the fragile peace. Spencer groaned, reaching for the phone with a resigned sigh. He checked the message, reading it without making any effort to sit up or pull away from you. You could see the familiar irritation flicker across his face as he absorbed the contents.

“It’s a case,” he said softly, his voice heavy with disappointment. “They need us. Now.”

And just like that, it's time to say goodbye to soft pink sheets and sweet kisses and hello to body language techniques for hiding the memories made in your bed and the fact that Spencer Reid loves you.

[no-144444]

quick tweet, big problem- o.piastri

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summary: you and oscar are together, but the world doesn't need to know you're engaged. lando decides they do.

pairing: oscar piastri x fem! kravitz! reader

(context in case you don't know him: ted kravitz is a skyf1 presenter)

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“Red flag, red flag, come in,” Tom said.

Annoyance surged through him. This race was not going his way at all. He started slowing down, following closely behind Lawson. “Who’s off?”

“Colapinto,” he explained. “It’s a big one, probably a 20 to 30 minute red flag.”

For fucks sake. Oscar had told them it was too dangerous. They didn’t listen. He paid the price. Now Max was up into p2, and Lando was stuck in p5. Oscar couldn’t even do anything to help. He grunted, getting out of the car and following Tom back to the garage. 

He was ushered over to his engineers, but honestly all he wanted was to see you. Being Lando’s race engineer, Oscar had seen you around the paddock in some of his first weeks and befriended you, on top of that, he’d fallen madly in love with you and asked you out 11 months ago. You two had been going out for 11 months now, and, while he could see you between the screens as his engineers and Andrea gave him advice about the race, he kind of tuned them out, too busy staring at you.

“Jesus, loverboy, just go say hi and come back, alright? We need you thinking with your head, not your dick,” Zak scoffed, finally allowing him to see you. 

Quickly, Oscar rounded the corner of the desk and wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his head on the top of yours. You didn’t stop talking to Lando, explaining the plan for the rest of the race. 

“But I fucking said to stay out,” Lando whined. 

“No, you told us to box you. We told you to stay out,” you explained, your voice calm. 

Lando just scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” then walked off to go brood somewhere else. 

“Shitty weather, eh?” you mused.

“Awful,” he nodded. 

“Is that sweat or rain?” you asked, feeling how wet he truly was. 

“Both,” he sighed. He knew there were about forty cameras on the two of you. Moments between you two that the public saw were few and far between. You liked it that way. He liked it that way. Privacy was something he essentially gave up when he became a public figure, but that didn’t mean you had to. “How’s Lando doing?”

“He’s just pissed away his chance at World Champion,” you took a deep breath, leaning into him. “And I’ll be the one he screams at during the end of the race. I’ll be the one having to explain it to Zak, and I won’t get home until probably tomorrow. And my dad is staring at us.”

Oscar groaned. “Fucking hate dealing with this shit.” 

You nodded. “Me too. But at least there’s no race for two weeks.” 

“We’re off to Melbourne,” he reminded you. “Have to do the family rounds, since we’re engaged,” he beamed. Over the last break, Oscar had proposed. It was the happiest moment of your lives (closely followed by Oscar’s win in Baku), and now you were on your way to visit his extended family for the first time. Since he’d met most of your family (especially considering Ted Kravitz was your father and Oscar met him before he met you), it was only fair that you make the trip and meet his.

Before that though, you had to get through today. 

“You’d better go chat with your engineers,” you took your hands off his. “Zak is giving me dirty looks.”

He rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. “I don’t want to.” 

You chuckled. “Go,” you urged him. “If you get higher than p9 I’ll give you a kiss at the end of the race.”

“Good deal,” he pondered. “Or I could just kiss you now,” and with that, he pressed his lips to yours quickly, before running off to his side of the garage. 

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Lando was an idiot, but he was Oscar's idiot, so you didn't kill him. You knew it was only a matter of time before someone slipped up, whether it be your dad, you, or Oscar. You didn't suspect it would be Lando, though. You did enjoy watching Oscar shout at him though. That was pretty funny.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[crushmeeren]

heyy idk if this is where we put requests but by any chance could you do the mha boys reacting to you putting on the pheromone perfume and you smelling hella good possibly resulting in something freaky ( denki, shinsou or bakugo) or anyone is fine🙏🏾

⋆⋅ I love this idea! I did twist this a bit, it’s basically the love potion “amortentia,” from Harry Potter but as a perfume. Why the fuck it’s so hard for me to shorten things down when I write, I have no damn idea. So here, have this. (.づ◡﹏◡)づ.

All characters aged up/18+. ❲ ̽ ⋆ FEM READER ̽ ⋆❳

⋆⋅ Between the ⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆ symbols are memories of reader and whichever character!

Thank you @pastelbakugou for helping me figure what to write for Shinsou. ( ˘ ³˘(◡‿◡˶)

⋆ ft. kaminari, shinsou, bakugou, todoroki ⋆

..⃗. master list link

The sickly sweet scent of vanilla ice cream infused with honey is what overwhelms Katsuki’s senses first when he leans in and hugs you in greeting. You squeeze him back just as affectionately and he’s in the middle of nosing at your throat when he’s hurtled back in time through his memories.

⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Katsuki mutters hotly. He’s trying, key word trying, to wipe the sweat covering his phone screen onto his tank top but it fails miserably, seeing as how his shirt is soaked fucking through. He’s more or less just smearing it around and he’s debating on just obliterating the useless piece of shit phone.

He curses whoever the fuck is up there and uses sheer willpower not to tear his hair out from the roots because of this scorching heat wave.

Finally, he’s able to read his latest message from you. It tells him to meet you at the ice cream stand nearby his patrol route on his next break.

Katsuki wipes the back of his forehead with a glove free hand, but it slides right across his sticky skin and then sweat drips into his other eye with a harsh sting and goddammit, he’s royally fucking pissed off now.

For your sake, he swallows his swelling rage and makes his way to you swiftly. The two of you have tried to make it a habit to meet a couple times a week when Katsuki has time during his shifts, he gets so busy that sometimes it gets hard to see each other as often as you’d like.

As always, his heart stutters when he lands a few feet from you. The tension drains from his shoulders even as he witnesses drops of sweat being flung off his jaw from the impact of landing and coloring the light gray pavement darker.

You look so, so pretty in your sundress and Katsuki’s stomach swoops when a sweet smile lights up your features. You reach out a cup of ice cream for him to try, teasing him for looking like he’s just taken a shower but he sticks his tongue out at you in retaliation and takes a bite of the treat. Katsuki practically moans when cool cream melts on his tongue. He feels infinitely better.

The sun beats down harshly on you both, but it brightens your eyes and the playful way you blow a coy kiss at him when you part ways leaves him with fingers crunching the empty cup and pants that fit a bit too snug. God, he’s disgustingly in love with you.

⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆

“Kat?” Your concerned tone brings him back to the present. Katsuki can’t stand another minute with your clothes on and hauls you up with a rough grip to the backs of your thighs. You yelp in surprise and scramble to hold onto his shoulders as he strides towards your bedroom.

“I don’t know what the hell you did to smell this way, but you’re gonna keep your eyes on me and I’m fuckin’ you until you pass out. Understood?”

How could you ever hope to say no?

When you’re both naked and tangled in the sheets, Katsuki pushes one of your legs to your chest, curls his fingers around your throat, and pushes his forehead against yours as he stretches your tight pussy out completely with his thick cock. He stays true to his word, hand gripping your jaw and forcing your eyes to stay locked with his own ferocious stare when you grit your teeth and cum.

Then he kisses your forehead afterwards when you’re fast asleep.

Muscle memory tilts Shouto’s head to the side as he leans closer to sniff you curiously, an adorable habit that he’s never been able to break when he wants answers to something.

“What is that?”

“What is what, Sho?”

“You smell like the end of a campfire. Why?”

You raise an eyebrow and saunter closer to where he sits at his desk, his office quiet with most heroes currently out of the building. You step around the corner of his desk and hop up on the edge to sit next him, feet kicking gently.

“That’s important to you? A campfire? Huh I would’ve thought you’d smell something like soba,” you comment with a shrug, half smile tugging at your lips.

Now Shouto’s thoroughly confused.

“I don’t understand. Why would you smell of soba? Are you alright?” Shouto sounds as deadpan as usual, if not slightly concerned. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans back in his chair, staring at you as if he could find the answer by checking out your body. It makes you laugh.

Animatedly, you explain to him about the new “perfume,” Mina let you try. Apparently, whoever wears it prompts the object of their affections to smell whatever scent is important/attractive to them. And suddenly Shouto gets it

“Oh, I see,” he says with an understanding nod. He can narrow it down specifically as to why you smell of a campfire on a cold night.

⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆

“Sho, are you sure we can’t just use your quirk to roast these marshmallows? It’s so much faster!” You protest halfheartedly, but you’re already stabbing one of the fluffy sweets with a stick, assembling a second one for Shouto.

“No. This will be more fun, I promise. I watched Touya-nii and the others do this once, it seemed as if they were very happy afterwards.” Shouto flicks his hand and fire shoots towards the pile of sticks, engulfing them until a decent fire roars.

This sobers you considerably, and Shouto sits down next to you, accepting the offering of marshmallow on a stick happily and oblivious to the depressing sentiment he just offered.

So, you roast marshmallows. You tease each other and laugh as you assemble the s’mores and then lean into Shouto’s left side to fend off the chill of the autumn night afterwards. The stars are brighter away from the city and Shouto has always enjoyed the quiet of the countryside. His heart is close to bursting from his chest every time you laugh and he blurts what’s on his mind.

“I love you.”

It comes out of nowhere and Shouto only feels nervous for a few seconds before you return his feelings. Shouto’s dragging you into the tent before you can blink.

⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆

In hindsight, at least to Shouto, he understands exactly why you smell like a campfire. With slightly rosy cheeks and a matter of fact tone, he recounts the memory for you and he’s sure his hair’s about to catch fire from the way you’re looking at him.

Without caring to lock the door, the two of you end up reliving part of that memory.

Shouto pushes you until you’re flat on your back on his desk, sliding your pants off and making sure your ass is on the edge of it. He drops to his knees and eats your pussy until your thighs squeeze his head.

And when you beg him to fuck you, he bends you over the desk and presses his cock inside you roughly. The snaps of his hips are frantic, and when there’s a knock at the door, all Shouto does is cover your mouth with one hand and keep going until you’re seeing stars.

“Denki!”

Said blonde whips around at the muffled call of his name. Denki feels his smile aching in the apples of his cheeks as he watches you weave through the crowd of people on the dance floor to get to him. You grin in return and wave warmly, which makes his pulse run overtime.

“Baby!” Denki almost squeals, yanking you in for a crushing hug when you get close enough. “You made it! I thought you got lost,” he says teasingly against your ear and you lean back to laugh and punch him in the arm. You crowd into his space once again so he can hear you but an overpowering and delicious scent of coffee and rain pushes up Denki’s nose.

He startles, head jerking back and brows shooting up. Your expression turns questioning but Denki cuts you off before you can speak.

“Holy shit baby, you smell super good. Like, fucking amazing! What are you wearing? It makes me want to rip your clothes off,” He says enthusiastically, tangling your hands together in the process.

“Oh! It’s this new perfume. Well, technically it’s not a perfume but honestly I didn’t think it would work! I assumed it was a scam.” You give him a run down of how it’s supposed to work and he suddenly comes to the realization of why you smell like coffee and rain of all things that could be important to him.

⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆

“Oww,” Denki whines, sticking his tongue out and fanning it quickly.

“Did you burn your tongue?” You bump his shoulder playfully, taking care not to spill your own coffee. “I told you it would be hot, it’s a latte Denki,” you scold him good naturedly, trying not to laugh. He pouts at you, blowing into the lid in hopes to cool it off.

“Well I didn’t expect it to be the surface temperature of the sun!” Denki protests, gingerly taking another sip and humming in contentment when he finds it’s cooled off enough to be drinkable. You laugh again, but then Denki almost runs into your back when you stop abruptly in front of the glass door exit.

“It’s raining! Shit, I didn’t bring an umbrella. How are we supposed to make it back to the station?”

Denki studies the way it’s pouring cats and dogs, before making a noise of triumph and pointing to a bench under an awning not too far away.

“We can go wait for a bus over there!”

You side eye him. “Fine, but if I spill my coffee, you’re buying me a new one.”

The two of you take off, and in true Denki fashion, he trips and spills his coffee everywhere. By the time you both make it to the awning, you’re both soaked to the bone and breathless from laughing.

“Here,” you offer Denki your coffee with a grin, water dripping from the ends of your hair.

“You don’t have to share baby, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, yeah I do. I love you, Denki.”

Your boyfriend short circuits.

“Dammit Denki! Those were the only two lampposts on this street, now I can’t see anything!”

⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆

Denki blinks the memory away and spins you, pulling your back flush to his chest. His body is a long, lean line of muscle as he moves your bodies to the beat and murmurs in your ear.

“Let me take you home and show you just how well this perfume works on me, my dick is hard as a fucking rock baby,” Denki giggles, squeezing your hips when you shove your ass back into his pelvis.

The two of you abandon your friends quick enough to race home, stripping carelessly in your living room until Denki can bend you over the armrest of the couch. He guides his cock inside you unhurriedly, pushing until his pelvis is nestled snug to your ass.

A breathy moan escapes him, and then he’s fucking your pussy as if he could never get enough.

He never will.

Hitoshi’s exhausted when he gets home from work late that night. Being an underground hero is rewarding, but it certainly comes with its downfalls.

He closes the front door delicately and toes off his shoes by the door. It doesn’t take long for him to make his way down the hall and into your bedroom, a tiny half smile worming its way into his expression despite his bone aching weariness when he spots you sound asleep in bed. He pauses to stare at you for a moment.

Hitoshi then showers as fast as humanly possible before crawling under the blankets and curling an arm around your waist, tugging you close until he can nose at the back of your neck. You sigh in your sleep and smuggle closer into his embrace.

Hitoshi trails his nose down the side of your neck and he freezes once he gets to your shoulder. You smell….good. Insanely fucking good, and he can’t quite pinpoint the specific scent but it’s soft and warm and maybe even a little musky. It sends warm blood rushing south and his cock twitches with interest.

He wracks his brain and the only thing he can associate with the scent is your cat, Kiko, when she was a kitten and you first brought her home.

⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆

Hitoshi’s in the middle of playing a game when you return home that day, calling out for him to come to the living room for a second.

“Why?” He yells back. He’s just about to finish this round.

“Just come out here you dick!”

Hitoshi rolls his eyes, but is amused nonetheless by your slightly frustrated tone. He pauses his game and makes his way to where you wait, but stops in his tracks, lips parting in shock and eyes going wide when he sees what you’re holding.

You’re cradling an itty bitty, all black, fluff ball of a kitten in your arms. You grin delightedly at his shocked expression and hold her out almost as if you’re offering her to him.

“You wanted a kitten right? An all black one, like the one you had as a kid at Aizawa’s.”

Hitoshi manages to close his mouth and nod, cautiously reaching out to take the small creature and cradle her to his chest.

He…can’t believe you remembered. You remembered how much his cat had meant to him and went out of your way to find this kitten.

“Thank you,” he says softly, petting the purring kitten’s head with one finger. You step closer and do the same, scratching under her chin until she meows.

“What should we name her?”

“Kiko,” Hitoshi responds with no hesitation, glancing at you for approval and you smile back at him.

“I love it.”

⋆｡ ﾟ ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ ☾ ﾟ ｡⋆

Hitoshi blinks back to the present, the fond memory lingering at the edges of his mind. He remembers how his heart squeezed against his rib cage in the best kind of way that day and how he knew then he wanted to marry you.

“Baby,” Hitoshi whispers lowly as he kisses your cheek. You stir enough to lazily flip over and hum in question. “I love you, so much.”

“Mm, love you too Hitoshi,” you mumble, sleepy rasp coloring your voice.

Hitoshi bends down to kiss you sweetly, encouraging you to throw a leg over his hips and straddle his waist. He settles you on top of him and wiggles a hand between you to shove his briefs down, cock stiff since he first smelled you, and slides your panties to the side.

Your limbs are still laced and heavy with sleep when Hitoshi helps you sink down on his cock. You melt into his chest, face buried in his throat and arms locked around his neck.

He bends his knees and grips your ass to help you sensually ride him, rocking up into you at a leisurely pace until the warmth finally bubbles over the edge and you cum with a shiver and he follows right behind you.

When he asks you about it the next day, it all clicks into place when you give him the watered down version of how the “perfume” works.

He hums noncommittally before asking you to wear it again.

[reignpage]

The Other Man

Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 3

Your worst nightmare is avoiding your eyes. 

Still sweating and slightly out of breath from the sprint you made from your home to the hospital, you try to wipe your hands down the material of your jeans, and you’re mortified to find them shaking. 

Is it from adrenaline or from fear? 

When they said they found your husband, alive, and he’s been fixed up all brand new, you thought everything would be fine, that things would go back to normal. Your home will finally stop being so stifling, you won’t burn a hole through your carpet from all the pacing like your friend tried to joke, and you no longer have to hold yourself at night just to stop from hyperventilating.

But when you look at his eyes and see only confusion and a drop of anxiety, you know something’s gone terribly wrong. 

“He suffered trauma to the head and we noticed no signs of it during surgery, so the symptoms only showed up now. We’re sorry we hadn’t been able to warn you ahead of time,” the doctor says. 

Maybe now your hands are shaking from anger. 

You step towards the doctor, the sterile smell of latex gloves and death stinging your nose, and you splutter out, “What are you talking about? What’s wrong with my husband? Why is no one just telling me straight up?”

He flinches. 

They both do. 

You don’t feel bad, can’t feel bad. 

The doctor opens his mouth and he’s explaining, rambling about all sorts of medical terms you don’t know and it’s likely he’s doing it to distract you, or punish you, but you do hear one word. It registers and sends a static ringing through your ears. 

“It would seem your husband has developed retrograde amnesia.”

Amnesia. 

When he finishes, a silence takes over, filling up the room and pressing you to the walls, daring you to suck in a breath. A beat or two passes whilst he wait for either one of you to say something, ask something, anything. But no one does, so he leaves and immediately you wish he stayed. 

“Hi.”

His voice breaks you out of your internal panicking. It has a slight quiver, perhaps from the deep sleep he had been under, or the exhaustion that had built up, the price to pay for saving so many people in one night. The reports said, on the night he disappeared, that there had been many curses, strong ones, gathered in an organised attack, an ambush. They had backed your husband in a corner and pushed him to his limits. 

They did this. 

You try to smile. 

“Hi, baby, how you doing?”

There’s a blush forming across his cheeks and you smile for real, finding his embarrassment adorable, but then it drops just as quick when he clears his throat, as if setting a boundary. 

“So,” he drags out, “you’re my wife, huh?”

What’s the procedure for losing your loved one to an internal injury so bad you feel it cut deep? What’s the etiquette? Because you’re so sure screaming at him to stop playing this cruel joke is probably not a good idea; you already know what the doctors would say.

It would be unwise to push him.

Your steps are hesitant but you push through that invisible force keeping you back. You need to touch him, need to feel that, despite it all, he’s warm and real and breathing — at least one of you has to be. 

He looks up at you from your position beside his bed and watched your hand lift towards his face. He doesn’t move, he steels himself for your sake, you know it, because your husband has always been the kindest, most empathetic man you’ve ever met. 

Then you cradle his slightly cut up cheek and tears stream down before you even know it, a laugh bubbles out and you sob it out. He’s really alive. 

“I’m so happy you came back.”

He smiles, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but it’s still a genuine smile and your heart leaps. If he can smile at you like that even without the pull of the shared memories of his time with you, then surely there’s hope. Because through his dazzling eyes, always dazzling, you believe there’s a huge box of everything he had filed on you, on his love for you, his wishes and desires for for you both. It’s just locked away at the moment, but you’ll find a key. 

You have to. 

“I must have been pretty great to bag a gorgeous woman like you.” 

“The greatest.”

He laughs in surprise. He did that every time you played along, because no one else ever had, not his own family or his friends, and not even himself. 

And the hours pass by with him asking questions and you answering patiently, despite the stab at your chest from every moment he forgot, every special occasion he doesn’t remember, and you both relive the bad times, the terrible times. 

Except he’s going it through for the first time. 

All the nurses and doctors filter in and out, changing this, emptying that, wiping here, walking there, and throwing all sorts of information at you. Eventually, they give you a care pack full of pamphlets filled with numbers and websites for support, letting you know he’s free to leave, but that check-ups will have to be frequent to monitor his progress. 

You can tell he’s getting tired; you don’t blame him, it’s been too much too fast. So you tell him, “Alright, handsome, it’s time to go home.”

He cheers up at that, eagerly packing and hobbling out of the hospital and into your car. The car ride home isn’t quiet like you had dreaded, it’s loud, bustling with more questions and excited remarks. 

“No way. He ate that finger? That’s so funny.”

“Oh, his hair is really that spiky? And she puts up with both of them? Wow.”

“He’s still teaching? That’s great.”

When you pull up to the house at the end of the street, all the lights are off and you feel a little embarrassed that it doesn’t look inviting, and  of course you forgot to clean up the dishes and vacuum the carpet. Maybe you should have gotten balloons and streamers, maybe invited his friends. You know the doctor said don’t overwhelm him, but they’ll definitely come knocking sooner than later. 

That’s how loved your husband is. 

You have a bashful smile when you finally glance up at him, both walking up to the door, and it plummets at the disappointed look on his face. He doesn’t care about the lights, only that the home he had been expecting is the one across the city, the one you had made him move out of years ago so you could live together as a soon to be wedded pair. 

Now, he’ll have to live in your home as a guest, borrowing your cups and plates, and wearing clothes he didn’t buy but the other man did, and then he’ll be sleeping next to you. 

A stranger. 

You gulp the horrified scream down and, with shaky hands, you unlock the door, ignoring the overwhelming feeling that you’re losing an uphill battle, that things will never be the same, and he’ll never love you, not like he did. 

Your husband is loyal to a fault; he won’t leave you, not because he loves you, not because he can’t imagine being anywhere else but here, with you, but because there’s a ring on his left finger that he keeps playing around with like it feels wrong to have it on. 

And the realisation that you don’t care, that you have enough love for the both of you, that you want, need, to have him in any way he’ll let you, creates a dull ache in your stomach.

You don’t try to smile when you turn to him, even when he does. 

All you say is,

“Welcome home, Satoru.”