#it's so thick in the air it's unreal
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THRU THE PHONE ! | MARK GRAYSON X FEM READER
warnings: 18+, nsfw, masturbation (m), perv! mark (?), he jerks off 2 ur voice basically but is sweet abt it lol. brat reader (?), reader doesnât know about what heâs doing, voice kink ? cuz he likes ur voice (?) phone sex but its one sided lowk. usage of baby & angel as pet names. fluff.
summary: you miss your boyfriend in the quiet moments. he misses you too, but with a restlessness that says your absence lingers a little heavier on his chest.
an: minors, ageless & blank blogs dni. mark is so adorbs need him bad asf + short drabble + this isnt proofread and some parts r meant to be italicized n arenât cuz im 2 lazy
âI miss you.â
You roll your eyes, though the words send a dull ache through your chest. Turning onto your side, the white bedsheets rustle softly beneath you, cool against your skin. The dim glow of your phone screen casts faint shadows across the room. You bring the device closer to your ear, pressing it against your cheek. You let out a loud sigh, making sure he hears it.
Itâs nighttime, and the wind howls through the window. The air isnât cold, just restless. Youâre nestled in your cozy bed, wrapped in warmth, as the soft light from your phone screen and the moon illuminate your room. You miss him. A lot.
âItâs not fair,â you huff, the agitation clear in your voice. âHe has a bunch of different superheroes he can call on, so why does it always have to be you, Mark?â
Mark listens carefully to your tone, gently sitting up in his own bed as the discomfort settles in. All he longs for is to be in your room, wrapped around you in the warmth of your bed, holding you close. His back rests against the headboard, the cool wood pressing into him as his long legs stretch out across the bed, sprawling comfortably yet aimlessly, the blankets slightly tangled around his feet.
âYou know how Cecil can be, baby,â he says softly, bringing the phone closer to his ear. He falls quiet for a moment, his voice gentle when he continues, âI promise, Iâll make it up to you. Iâll only be here for a week, and then youâll have me all to yourself.â
You pout, your glossy bottom lip quivering. âI really miss you, you know?â
Your voice is soft, a little tired, and so, so sweet, it curls around his ribs and settles into his chest. So fucking sweet, he thinks, breath hitching. Every syllable is a lullaby, every sigh a prayer.
And youâGod, youâre perfect. Every strand of hair, every flutter of your lashes, every little thing that makes you, you is something sacred to him. At least in his eyes, youâve always been something unreal, something he could never stop wanting.
âI know, baby. I know,â he breathes, voice low, almost shaky.
His actions are nothing short of shameful, downright lewd, but how could he help it? Youâre just intoxicating, too intoxicating, slipping under his skin like warm sugar, making a mess of him without even trying.
Rigid and pulsing, limp and trembling in his gripâthereâs a rawness to him that clings to the air, your voice echoing through his haze. Sweat beads on his skin, and need coils in his chest; heâs caught in the pull of you. here he is, undone and achingâstroking his leaking slit with a shaky hand, your presence burning behind his half-shut eyes.
âI love you, angel,â he murmurs, voice thick and slow, tracing lazy circles over his flushed, sensitive tip. Itâs a fleeting softness tangled in the mess of him, a thread of devotion he clings to amidst the haze. The moment drips with wantâhis fingers slick and unsteady, chasing you in every shuddering motion.
Without thinking, you murmur back, âYou canât âI love youâ your way out of this, silly,â tugging the covers tighter around you, a shield against the quiet. Your voice dances with a teasing lilt, light but edged with promiseââIâm going to hold you accountable when you get back.â The words hang playful yet firm, a thread of anticipation stitching through the warmth curling inside you.
He lets out a chuckle, low and breathy, dripping with a charm that hums through the air.
Itâs almost laughable how effortlessly you unravel himâhis hands sliding up and down his length, slick with wet, squelching sounds that fill the space. Heâs half-startled you havenât caught on yet, a flicker of surprise in his haze, but deep down he figures itâs better this way. Right now, tangled in this mess of want, isnât the moment for you to know.
The tension winds tight in his gut, a slow, burning sensation ready to snap. His grip tightens as your voice drapes over himâsoft, electric, setting every nerve alight. Every word you sigh into the receiver is a spark, stoking the heat pooling low in his stomach.
And then a ragged groan spills from his lips as he tips over the edge, pleasure crashing over him in waves, hot and messy against his hand. His body trembles, muscles slackening as he sinks back against the headboard, chest rising and falling with each heavy breath.
A lazy grin tugs at his lips, still dazed, still drunk off you.
âTrust me, doll,â he murmurs, voice thick. âIâm counting on it.â
#mark grayson#mark grayson smut#mark grayson x reader#invincible smut#invincible x reader#áč archive !
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it girl
nerd!gojo x popular!model!reader
wc: 20.1k
part 1 ! part 2 !
!!disclaimer!! will include major mentions of fling!sukuna x reader, smut, fluff, angst w/comfort. m.list
you were his most well kept secret, scrolling your instagram for hours on end, collecting each and every magazine that you'd ever featured in, satoru was obsessed with you, the gorgeous goddess who just so happened to go to his university. what happens when he sees you struggling to reach a book in the library and plucks up enough courage to finally go up and talk to you? how will the resident bad boy sukuna disrupt his fever dream come true?
the old campus library felt like a different world, ornate woodwork climbing up the walls, interrupted only by tall leaded-glass windows that caught the soft amber glow of autumn. outside, the trees were aflame with color, copper, rust, deep crimson, and their reflection danced on the polished floors. inside, the air was quiet and thick with the scent of time, yellowed pages, candle wax, and the faintest trace of dust that even the best-kept secrets couldnât shake.
this was satoruâs sanctuary. dim corners, forgotten shelves, long tables where no one noticed if you stayed for hours. it was the one place he could be invisible. which is why his heart damn near exploded when you walked in.
you didnât belong here, not in the best way. you were all shimmer and gloss, y2k fantasy made flesh, swishing through the hushed aisles like you were on the catwalk of a juicy couture fever dream. pink cheetah-print mini skirt, rhinestone hair clips catching the libraryâs warm light, a bedazzled phone clutched in one hand and a louis vuitton pochette tucked under the other. your heels made the kind of clack that had half the students peeking over their books.
and gojo? he saw everything.
he watched as you scanned the shelf, rising up on your tiptoes, your acrylics fluttering helplessly just inches from the bookâs spine. of course it had to be the top shelf.
of course no one else was around.
gojo adjusted his glasses, heart hammering in his chest. his fingers hovered over his laptop, still stuck on line 43 of an astrophysics assignment he stopped understanding twenty minutes ago.
heâd memorized every one of your photos, every cover shoot, every tiktok q&a where you smiled that same glossy smile.
but this? this was real. this was his chance.
the goddess of his screen, right here in the dusty old sanctuary he never thought youâd step foot in, struggling to reach a book that he was tall enough to grab without even trying.
clearing his throat almost as a way to prepare himself, he closed the lid of his lap top and stood.
his palms were sweating. he wiped them on his jeans as subtly as he could, heart thudding in his chest like it was trying to escape. every step felt unreal, like he was glitching through a dream he wasnât supposed to be part of. he could hear the faint squeak of his sneakers against the hardwood floor, echoing too loud in the silence, like the library itself was watching him with bated breath.
you didnât notice him at first, too busy tiptoeing, a pout forming on your glossy lips as your fingers swiped at nothing but air. your pink mini rode a little higher as you stretched, glittery charm bracelet jingling with the effort, and satoru had to drag his eyes back up to your face like a gentleman. his throat went dry.
he cleared it quietly. âuhâneed some help?â
you turned, and wow.
up close, you were somehow even more perfect. highlighter catching on your cheekbones, the faint scent of candy and designer perfume floating around you like some kind of spell. your eyes met his, confused for a split second, then amused. not mean, not mocking. just⊠curious. like you were trying to place him. like maybe he was a page youâd never noticed before.
âerrr, yeah,â you said, with a breathy little laugh that made his stomach flip. ânot built for reaching stuff that high.â
he blinked, then smiled, nervous but trying to play it cool. âlucky for you, i majored in tall.â you laughed again even though it was kind of dry, real, sparkly, light. and satoru swore heâd never heard anything more perfect in his life.
âyouâre funny,â you said, stepping aside to give him room. âwhatâs y'name, hun?â he froze for a half second. sheâs asking your name, idiot, say it!
âgojo. i mean, satoru. gojo satoru. either one. or uh. both, at once.â he winced. smooth satoru, real smooth. you just tilted your head, smiled like you didnât mind at all, and watched him pluck the book down with one easy reach.
âthanks, but satorus too long, and i hate calling people by their last name.â you said, cradling the book in your arms like a purse dog. satoru's eyes widened like he was surprised you'd say that so outright. he cleared his throat and runnned his neck. "oh, i see... what would you like to call me then?" he said bashfully.
âhmm. toru, ill call you toru." you said lazily chewing whatever pink gum you had in your mouth.
he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. âtoru... it's sounds good on your tongue- i mean! in your mouth- holy shit wait, that's not what i meant to-.â
you cut him off with a loud giggle, quickly slapping a hand over your mouth once you realized you were in a library, not that it did much to muffle the still continuing melody.
his brain short-circuited.
he was sure of it. neurons fried. circuits blown. oxygen? never heard of her. because you were standing there, laughing like he was actually funny, like this wasnât a scene straight out of one of his most unhinged daydreams.
you gave him a look, amused, playful. god, he was dying. his soul was ascending like a cartoon ghost floating up from his body.
you shifted your weight, resting one hip against the shelf. the fluorescent light overhead made the rhinestones on your bebe cami sparkle. you tucked the book under your arm like it was a designer clutch and popped another bubble of gum, watching him with a kind of lazy, feline curiosity.
âso,â you drawled, âwhatâs a pretty boy like you doing all alone in a dusty place like this?â
pretty. you called him pretty.
he almost choked.
âi, uhââ he coughed, adjusting the frames on his face, trying to stall while his brain caught up. âi like⊠books?â
you laughed again. it was dangerous, the way you looked at him like that. like he was adorable. like he wasnât wearing a hoodie with digimon on it and sneakers he hadnât replaced in three years. like he wasnât the guy who built computers in his dorm for fun and had a separate folder of your magazine covers saved on his hard drive labeled âfor scienceâ even though no science was involved.
âyouâre cute,â you said matter-of-factly, like it was obvious.
and satoru? satoru was gone.
he stared at you, eyes wide behind his glasses, face flushed a gentle pink that crept all the way up to the tips of his ears. the air was suddenly thick. too warm. too sweet. it smelled like your bubblegum perfume and fall leaves and something else he couldnât name, something that made his chest ache.
ây-you think so?â he asked softly, stunned.
you tilted your head again, hair bouncing. âdonât be weird 'bout it, 'course i do.â
he felt his knees weaken. he had to stay calm. say something cool. say something flirty. youâve practiced this in the mirror for god sake!
âyouâre, uhââ he tried, mouth dry. âyouâre like⊠really symmetrical. scientifically speaking. your face, i mean. p-perfect proportions.â
you blinked at him, stunned for half a second before giggling again.
âare you trying to flirt with me using the golden ratio?â
ââŠyes.â
âoh my god,â you said, biting your lip. âthatâs actually kinda hot.â
he almost moaned at your flirty tone.
he was talking to you. you. the girl whose instagram he checked religiously, zooming in on every new post like it was a secret message just for him. he knew what your favorite lip gloss was. he knew you preferred oat milk. heâd bought three different issues of vivi just to see the full spread of your beach shoot, and had one of them hidden in the bottom drawer under his spare laptop cables. the girl he had fucked his fist raw to.
you were standing right in front of him, telling him he was hot for quoting fibonacci.
this couldnât be fucking real.
âdo you, like⊠study fashion or something?â he blurted out, trying to keep the conversation going.
he couldn't lose this opportunity.
ânot that you need to. you look like⊠like you walked out of a y2k time capsule, but in a cool way. like, the hottest- i mean coolest way.â
you grinned, chewing your gum thoughtfully. ânah. i'm in marketing. but i do part-time modeling gigs. keeps my followers happy. and my bank account.â
'oh, i know.' he thought, but smiled like he didnât. like he hadnât memorized your last seven ad campaigns and tracked the rise in your follower count every week.
âthatâs really cool,â he said instead. âyouâre, like, really good at it.â
you raised a brow. âyouâve seen my stuff?â
he panicked. âuh. once. maybe. a few times. like⊠it came up. on the internet.â he cleared his throat.
you smirked. âjust came up, huh?.â
he felt the heat rush to his ears. âi⊠no⊠maybe.â
you stepped a little closer, still grinning, glossy lips curving like you knew exactly the effect you had on him.
âitâs okay, toru,â you whispered conspiratorially. âi'm fine with hot guys like you looking at my stuff.â
he snorted, loud and awkward, then clapped a hand over his mouth. your laughter followed, softer this time, almost sweet. you didnât seem like you were judging him. if anything, you seemed like you were delighted by how much of a mess he was.
you leaned back against the bookshelf, flipping the bookâs cover open lazily. âwhat were you working on, before i came over and distracted you with my tragic lack of height?â
he glanced back at his table, his laptop still open, screen filled with half-written code and tabs full of equations.
âjust⊠homework. physics stuff. not super interesting.â
you hummed. âoh wow physics! you really are a genius? not some nerd poser or something?â
âor something,â he said with a sheepish grin.
you eyed him again, like you were scanning him. tall. gangly, but in a model-off-duty kind of way. platinum white hair slightly tousled like heâd been running his hands through it. piercing blue eyes behind round glasses that only made him look more ridiculously pretty, like a gorgeous professor with no idea how hot he actually was.
you popped another bubble. âyou're hot toru, y'know that?â
he groaned, covering his face. âyouâre gonna kill me.â
you nudged his arm with your elbow. âin an endearing way, though.â
his heart did a full backflip. sheâs flirting with me. sheâs actually flirting with me. this isnât a simulation. this is real.
he was suddenly hyper-aware of everything. the way your perfume lingered in the air. the soft click of your nails against the book cover. the scuff on your pink heels. your lip gloss glinting like a disco ball every time the light shifted. his eyes trailed down to the perfect curve of your tits, god what he would give to cop a feel for just a secon-
âso,â you said, as casually as if you were asking for the time, âyou gonna ask for my number or just keep eye fucking me like that?â
his jaw dropped.
you giggled again.
âiâI wasn't- i was gonna-,â he stammered, clutching the edge of the bookshelf for support. âi just didnât know if, i mean, youâre, like, you. and iâm justââ
you raised an eyebrow. âyouâre toru.â
he blinked.
âmy toru, if you play your cards right.â
he was dead. buried. emotionally incinerated.
âuhâcan iâyeahâyour number, please. definitely. like. right now.â
you pulled your phone from your purse, bedazzled case catching the light like a chandelier. âhere."
he shakily took your phone.
you peeked at it and burst out laughing. âjust 'gojo'? that's lame.â
he shrugged, somehow managing a grin. âoh! uh... i guess you'll have to make up the name...â
he saw your lips curl as you typed in a new name. you turned the phone around and he read the contact.
'toru đ«Š'
âyouâre so... flirty...â
âyeah i get told that.â
you tilted your head again. âi like you, toru, you're cool.â
he didnât think anything in his life had ever sounded better.
"r-really? you're like, really cool to-"
"y/n! hurry the hell up or we're leaving without you!"
a foreign voice interrupted the moment, and you looked over your shoulder through the book cases to see sukuna and yuki looking around for you.
"ah shit, sorry toru but i gotta run. parties am i right?"
satoru stammered abit before straightening up and nodding his head quickly like he knew anything about parties. he gulped looking at sukuna, he alone looked 100x more likely to be dating a hot model like you, he was tatted up, smoking hot and oh so boyish. you were hanging out with guys like this on the daily? it made satoru's self confidence waver.
"no, yeah, totally. uhm... it was really nice meeting you y/n-"
"you too toru see yah! i'll text you!"
you replied, fast walking off to your popular friends that seemed to be pretty adamant in you returning quickly.
satoru watched you walk away, heart still pounding in his chest. the weight of the moment, of you, was slowly sinking in.
he stared after you, eyes wide behind his glasses, watching the way you movedâeffortless, like a star gliding through space, not a care in the world, completely unaware of the way the whole library seemed to be holding its breath in your presence, just like him. he saw how students whispered as you passed by, you were already back in your element, heading toward your friends. your heels clicked rhythmically against the floor as you weaved through the bookcases.
'she called me toru. she called me toru.'
he could barely wrap his mind around it. you were her. the goddess heâd collected magazines of, the one whose photos kept him up all night, the girl whose life seemed so perfect and out of reach. and youâd called him toru, a nickname only his mom called him.
like it was nothing. like it was the most natural thing in the world.
he felt his pulse racing again, the aftershock of the interaction rippling through him. 'there was no fucking way this was real. it couldnât be. not in a million years.'
he stood there for what felt like an eternity, watching your figure shrink as you disappeared into the crowd of students waiting at the library exit. a part of him wanted to run after you, but he stayed rooted to the spot, trying to calm his breathing, trying to get his bearings.
'i'll text you' your words rang in his ears.
he fumbled for his phone, eager to check for the message. he knew it wasnât going to be anything mind-blowing, just a quick âheyâ or maybe an emoji, but it didnât matter. it was something.
his hands shook as he unlocked the screen.
no new messages. his heart sank, and for a brief moment, he was ready to throw his phone out the window. 'donât overthink it, satoru. itâs just one conversation. stop acting like sheâs going to text you back immediately, you idiot.'
he paced back and forth for a few minutes, his mind in a complete fog. the sound of his footsteps was the only thing that seemed to ground him, the reality of the library pulling him back from his spiral of thoughts.
'okay. okay, you need to calm down. what just happened is⊠insane. but itâs not like sheâs your girlfriend. hell, you barely know her. but fuckâŠ'
he sat down at the nearest table, pulling out his laptop and trying to force himself to focus. his fingers hovered over the keys, but the words werenât coming to him. the physics problems blurred together on the screen, the equations meaningless in comparison to what had just happened.
he laughed to himself, a quiet sound that felt a little too much like a nervous breakdown.
'she called you pretty. she said you were hot. and she didnât run away. she didnât laugh at you. she just called you cute! god, youâre fucked, satoru.'
he couldnât stop smiling, even though he knew he was being ridiculous.
'this is real, right? she actually liked me. she didnât just see me as some⊠weirdo in the corner of the library. she saw me.'
~
you didnât think much more about it after that. after all, you were you, and satoru? well, he was just some pretty nerd who you had a quick flirty conversation with. sure, it was fun, but it wasnât like anything was going to come of it.
but you couldnât help thinking about his smile. the way he stammered and blushed. the way his eyes flicked up to meet yours, like he was afraid he might melt if he looked too long. he wasnât the first guy to be nervous around you, but there was something⊠refreshing about the way he acted. not like he was trying to impress you, but like he was genuinely just happy to be talking to you.
it was cute.
you were knocked out of your thoughts when sukuna slung an arm around your shoulders as yuki walked next to you out of the library.
âtook you long enough,â sukuna drawled, his voice low and rough in that way that made heads turn even when he wasnât trying. his rings clinked lightly as his fingers settled on your shoulder, all casual possessiveness and knowing smirks. âdonât tell me you were actually studying?â
âshe was flirting,â yuki chimed in, tugging her black leather jacket tighter around herself. âwith glasses.â
âglasses?â sukuna raised a pierced brow, looking amused. âyou mean the lanky nerd who always camps out in the back corner like he pays damn rent?â
you gave a lazy little shrug, chewing your gum thoughtfully as your pink acrylics tapped against your phone screen. ây'know him? heâs cute.â
yuki nearly choked on a laugh, slapping a hand to her chest. âcute? you think heâs cute?â
âlike, awkward cute,â you clarified, eyes scanning your texts, pretending not to notice how sukunaâs grip subtly tightened. âhe called my symmetrical face hot.â
yuki actually wheezed. sukuna just stared down at you for a second, unreadable. âyou fuckinâ with him?â you gave him a sugary smile, lips glossed just right. âno. he was just sweet, helped me reach a book.â
âsweet,â he repeated flatly, like the word offended him on a molecular level. but you were already ahead of them, weaving through the quad, your low-rise mini skirt swishing, a little pink blur in a sea of neutrals. you didnât even need to look back to know they were following you. people always followed you.
you were the kind of girl people stared at. you were the girl. the one in the center of every group pic. the one who got handed aux at parties. the one every guy either wanted or bragged about knowing. and yeah, it got exhausting sometimes. but it was better than being invisible. it was better than being left behind.
sukuna and yuki flanked you like always, your unofficial bodyguards, your chaos and calm. people moved for the three of you like you were royalty. âwhatâs his name?â yuki asked as you all approached the parking lot. she was already pulling her keys out, ready to drive you to the party.
âsatoru,â you said absently. âbut iâm calling him toru.â sukuna scoffed, you were oblivious to the drop in his stomach.
~
back in the library, satoru still hadnât moved. his brain kept replaying the moment you said his name. toru. he never knew two syllables could make him feel like his chest was going to explode. and then your friends had shown up. those friends.
satoru had locked eyes with the pink-haired one for only a second, but it was enough.
he was tall , broad-shouldered, ink running down his arms like artless declarations of rebellion, slick black piercings catching even the dimmest light of the library. he had a cigarette tucked behind one ear like it was an afterthought, like he didnât even need it to look dangerous. his shirt clung to him like it didnât dare wrinkle. his stare was deadpan, half-lidded and bored, like heâd already sized satoru up and decided he wasnât worth the breath it would take to speak.
his eyes said it all, 'iâve done things your virgin brain can't even fathom. iâve had her in ways youâll never even understand.' satoru felt small, smaller than he had in years.
this guy, sukuna, looked like the kind of man girls wrote warnings about in their diary. the kind your friends begged you to stay away from but you never did. he looked like he lived in red lights and black leather and bad decisions. like he didnât even need to try to get a girl like you. like he already had.
he looked like the kind of guy you did date.
satoruâs fingers twitched at his sides, a nervous impulse to hide himself behind his sleeves. behind his hoodie. behind something. anything. 'theyâre probably just friends,' he told himself. but the words didnât land. not really.
not when you were surrounded by people like that, cool, popular, hot in a way that didnât come from filters or good lighting but from raw, lived-in confidence. people who belonged in glossy polaroids, in afterparties, in stolen moments behind closed doors.
people who werenât him.
he thought about the way youâd laughed at his dumb jokes, called him toru like it was something soft and special. how youâd looked at him like he was something worth looking at. but it didnât change the fact that he was stammering and akward.
meanwhile, sukuna probably had you pressed against a wall the night before, hand on your throat, like he owned you. satoru blinked down at the ground, heart clenched, throat dry.
what if he does? what if you werenât just flirting? what if sukuna was the one you called when the party ended? the one who got to see you undone and bare and real?
the image hit him hard, a flash of you in someone elseâs bed, laughing the way you had in the library, except it wasnât for him this time. he shook his head, embarrassed with himself, but the thought had already burrowed in.
'youâre not her type.' and god, wasnât that the worst part? because he wanted to be.
he wanted to be everything you liked. everything you needed. but standing there in that hoodie with his backpack half-zipped and his heart in his mouth, he wasnât sure he even belonged in the same room as you.satoru dropped his forehead to the desk, groaning softly.
'get a grip. youâre spiraling. again.'
but he couldnât help it. not when heâd spent the better part of his freshman year zooming in on pictures of you on the cover of âtokyo street glam.â not when he had a folder on his phone labeled âmath notesâ that was really just full of screenshots from your instagram stories.
you were his secret. his guilty pleasure. the one girl he let himself obsess over even when he swore he didnât do that anymore. and now? you were real. not just real, but youâd talked to him. youâd liked talking to him. he finally lifted his head, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, still slightly fogged from the heat of his own forehead.
'snap out of it, satoru. sheâs not a fantasy anymore. you met her. she smiled at you. she gave you her number. that has to mean something.'
his phone vibrated. his whole body went rigid he snatched it up off the table so fast he nearly dropped it.
[new message: unknown number]
xxx xxx xxx: heya toru :)
his mouth dropped open a little. he just stared at the screen, like it might disappear. like it was a mirage. his fingers hovered for a moment, then tapped quickly.
toru đ«Š: hey :)
and then, as fast as he could, he threw his phone face-down on the table and physically shoved his chair away from it like it might explode. his heart pounded. his ears were ringing.
'holy fucking shit she texted you.'
he let out a shaky breath, tugging his hoodie sleeves down over his hands and scrubbing them over his face.
~
âhe texted back,â you told yuki, holding up your phone lazily.
âheâs probably combusting in that dusty ass library right now,â she grinned, pushing her sunglasses up onto her head. âyou just turned that boyâs world upside down.â
you blew a bubble, letting it pop slow. âgood.â
âyou gonna see him again?â you shrugged, but your smile betrayed you. âdepends. maybe.â
yuki eyed you. âyou like him.â
âi donât not like him.â
from behind, sukuna made a low noise of disapproval.
you ignored it.
~
back inside, satoru was still buzzing. his fingers hovered over the keys, unsure what to say next. he wanted to impress you. to be funny. to be hot. but mostly, he just didnât want to blow it.
he checked your profile again, he didnât mean to. it was just instinct now. all your selfies, your campaign shoots, your y2k party outfits, the way you always looked like you stepped out of a dream and into a flashbulb.
your most recent post was from a few minutes ago where you snapped a photo of you and yuki getting ready for a frat party. 'of course.'
~
the alpha phi frat house was already buzzing by the time you and yuki pulled up. the thump of bass-heavy music vibrated through the ground, mingling with the distant chatter and laughter of students spilling out onto the lawn. fairy lights crisscrossed above, casting a warm, golden glow over the scene, while the scent of alcohol and pot hung thick in the air.
you stepped out of the car, your mini dress hugging your curves perfectly. your hair was styled beautifully, and your makeup was a flawless blend of early 2000s glam and modern chic. yuki, ever the contrast, sported a sleek black ensemble, her dark lipstick and sharp eyeliner giving her an edgy allure. as you made your way through the crowd, the familiar faces of your inner circle came into view.
choso was the first to greet you, leaning against the kitchen counter with a red solo cup in hand. his long, dark hair was tied into two high ponytails, and his deep-set eyes held a quiet intensity. choso was the enigmatic artist of your group, often lost in thought but always present when it mattered. despite his reserved nature, he had a soft spot for you, often sketching portraits of you in his notebook.
ây/n,â he said, a small smile tugging at his lips.
âheyy cho,â you replied, giving him a quick hug. âstill acting all edgy brooding in corners?â
he chuckled softly. ây'know it.â
nearby, suguru lounged on a couch, his long black hair tied back, revealing a perfectly sharp jawline and a mischievous glint in his eyes. he raised his glass in a silent toast as you approached.
ây/n, always a vision,â he drawled, his voice deep, sexy and smooth as silk.
âawe how sweet of you. not sleeping with you tho, sorry!â you shot back, smirking.
suguru was the charismatic leader, effortlessly drawing people into his orbit. he had a way with words and a confidence that made him irresistible to many. your relationship with him was flirtatious, filled with playful banter and lingering glances.
"that's too bad, pretty."
shoko, the groupâs resident medical major and drunkard, sauntered over with a bottle in hand. her short hair framed her face, and her eyes sparkled with mischief.
ây/n! shot?â she offered, already pouring two.
âyou know i canât say no to you, girl,â you laughed, clinking glasses with her.
shoko was the life of the party, always ready with a drink and a sarcastic comment. she balanced her wild side with a deep loyalty to her friends, always there when it mattered most.
sukuna, ever the token bad boy, leaned against the wall, his tattoos peeking out from under his shirt. his pink hair was tousled, and his eyes followed you as you moved through the room.
he gave you a once over and approached you, slinking an arm around your waist and hooking his head down to inhale you're perfume with a groan.
sukuna was your on-again, off-again fling, the tension between you two palpable. he exuded danger and allure, and while your relationship was complicated, especially with his tendency to be extremely unloyal, there was no denying the chemistry.
you giggled before pushing him off and working your way further into the party, dodging bodies as you progressed.
nanami stood nearby, his tie loosened, a drink in hand. he offered you a nod, his expression as stoic as ever.
ây/n,â he greeted simply.
ânanami, letting loose tonight?â you teased, leaning against his side looking up at him. âas much as i can,â he replied, a hint of a smile on his lips as he dipped his drink.
nanami was the responsible one, always the voice of reason. he kept the group grounded, his calm demeanor a counterbalance to the chaos. maki zenâin, fierce and unapologetic, approached with a confident stride. her athletic build and sharp eyes commanded attention.
ây/n, looking sexy,â she complimented, giving you a nod.
âmaki, you look so fucking hot.â you responded.
maki was the strong, silent type, her loyalty unwavering. she was someone you could always count on, both in and out of a fight.
~
as the group settled into their usual banter, yuki leaned in, a mischievous glint in her eyes, capturing their attention.
âguess who y/n was flirting with today?â she announced, drawing everyoneâs attention. the room quieted slightly, all eyes on you.
you shot her a sideways glance and felt for the phone in your pocket, remembering you needed to text a certain someone back.
âa nerd,â yuki continued, grinning.
sukunaâs expression darkened, his jaw tightening.
âa nerd?â suguru echoed, raising an eyebrow.
âyeah, glasses, stammering, the whole 9 yards,â yuki elaborated.
âhe was cute,â you defended, shrugging, about to hit send on the message you were about to send satoru when sukuna interrupted.
he scoffed, pushing off the wall.
âiâm getting another drink,â he muttered lowly, disappearing into the crowd.
the group exchanged glances, the tension palpable.
âwell, that was dramatic,â shoko commented, taking another sip.
choso snorted abit and suguru just shook his head.
you rolled your eyes, but a small smile played on your lips. sukuna fucked around with all kinds of girls, what gave him the right to get all pissy? you didn't really like him like that anyways, he just knew how to fuck...
you watched sukunaâs retreating figure push through the crowd, jaw locked, shoulders tense. he didnât even glance back.
you waited a beat. maybe he was just being dramatic. maybe heâd cool off and come back and pretend like nothing happened.
but he didnât.
and something about that made your blood boil.
âiâll be back,â you muttered, not really addressing anyone in particular.
yuki gave you a knowing look but didnât stop you.
you slipped past sweaty bodies and neon-lit walls, the music thudding behind you like a heartbeat as you pushed open the sliding glass door to the patio. it was colder out here. quieter. sukuna was leaning against the railing, cigarette hanging lazily between his fingers, jaw clenched tight like he was chewing on all the things he wanted to say but wouldnât.
you stood a few feet away, arms crossed.
âyou always do this,â you said softly, voice sharp in contrast to the quiet. âget weird whenever someone else so much as breathes in my direction.â
he didnât turn around. just took a slow drag of his cigarette and exhaled smoke into the air like it was supposed to calm him.
âso now youâre into nerds?â he said, voice flat. you scoffed. âis that really what youâre mad about?â he glanced over his shoulder, eyes flashing. âiâm not mad.â you stepped closer, irritation prickling under your skin.
âbullshit. you stormed out like i cheated on you or something.â he turned fully to face you now, arms spread slightly like he couldnât believe what he was hearing.
âweâre not together.â
you laughed, bitter and tired. âexactly. weâre not together. so why the fuck do you care?â
he looked at you then, really looked. and for a second, something flickered in his expression, hurt? jealousy? possession? it vanished almost as quickly as it came.
âi donât,â he said coldly. âyou can fuck whoever the hell you want.â
âthen why are you acting like this?â
he stepped closer, his voice low and cutting. âbecause you act like you donât care, like itâs just casual, and then go around flirting with other guys like itâs a game.â
âyou sleep with other people all the time.â
âyeah, but i donât shove it in your face.â
âi wasnât trying to shove anythingââ you snapped, taking another step forward, ââyou just canât stand not being the center of attention.â
his eyes narrowed. âand you canât stand the idea that someone might not want you.â
that one stung more than it should have.
you blinked, lips parting, breath catching in your throat for half a second. then you swallowed it down and stared right back at him.
âfuck you.â
he smirked. âyou already did.â
you rolled your eyes and turned, ready to walk back in, to let this whole thing rot where it stood. but thenâ
âheâs not gonna fuck you like i do,â he called out, venom laced in his voice.
you stopped.
turned.
walked right up to him.
âmaybe not,â you said sweetly, âbut he doesnât talk to me like iâm disposable.â
sukuna didnât say anything, jaw tight again, eyes unreadable.
you stepped back. âenjoy your drink.â
and with that, you left him there, cigarette burned down to the filter, staring at your back as you disappeared into the party.
~
you stalked your way back into the party, turning heads as you walked. you navigated back to a some what secluded couch and sat down trying to calm yourself, and think. and maybe, okay, definitely, text that nerd.
you reached for your phone that had been vibrating on and off all night in your purse. as expected, a few dms, a couple mentions from the party, sukuna had liked one of your thirst traps from last week, typical, but it was the one message that you'd received a few hours ago that made your heart do a weird little flip.
toru đ«Š[10:03]: wydddd?
you [12:47am]: u still up nerd?
you paused. stared at it. then hit send before you could chicken out.
you rolled onto your back, biting your lip, phone clutched to your chest.
the reply came way faster than expected.
toru 𫊠[12:48am]: im always up for you
you stared at the screen, mouth open.
âwhat the hell,â you muttered, smiling like an idiot.
you [12:49am]: that was smooth toru. didnât know you had game
toru 𫊠[12:49am]: i donât. im literally panicking rn
toru 𫊠[12:49am]: i had to rewrite that message like five times. you donât wanna see the first drafts
you snorted.
you [12:50am]: ok show me the deleted ones
toru 𫊠[12:51am]: i think one said âyes i am awake haha as a human doesâ and then another one just said âgulpâ
you [12:51am]: stopppppp LMAO
you [12:52am]: thatâs so cute itâs disgusting
toru 𫊠[12:52am]: glad i could repulse you into liking me? i think?
you [12:53am]: donât get cocky bud ur just some cute guy i met
toru 𫊠[12:53am]: you think iâm cute?
you laughed again, your cheeks a little warm despite the hour.
you [12:54am]: youâre literally the prettiest boy iâve ever seen
toru 𫊠[12:55am]: oh
toru 𫊠[12:55am]: oh my god
toru 𫊠[12:55am]: youâre just saying that
you [12:56am]: iâm not lol. you looked so good in the library today. like⊠ridiculously good
toru 𫊠[12:57am]: i was sweating so bad. i think my shirt was sticking to me. you looked like a dream tho. a bratz doll kinda dream
you grinned.
you [12:57am]: i am a bratz doll. kinda my whole label lmao. yk what i really like?coffee. speaking of!
you [12:58am]: wanna get some tomorrow? 1pm ish? bluebird café?
your finger hovered for a second before you sent it.
across campus, in a dorm room cluttered with textbooks, half-eaten candy, and his favorite hoodie tossed over the back of his desk chair, satoru gojo was staring at his phone like it held the secrets of the universe.
he read the message once.
twice.
three times.
and then he launched himself face-down into his pillow and let out a noise somewhere between a squeal and a dying animal.
âyes,â he whispered into the sheets. 'yes yes yes fuck yes.'
his thumbs scrambled to reply.
his response came in seconds.
toru 𫊠[12:58am]: yes. yes. yes pls
toru 𫊠[12:58am]: i mean yeah sounds cool lmao
he immediately smacked his forehead. sounds cool?? what was wrong with him?? you were literally the hottest person heâd ever seen and he was texting like someoneâs nervous little cousin.
still.
you responded instantly.
you [12:59am]: ur such a loser
toru 𫊠[12:59am]: ur such hottie
he stared at the screen after sending it, heart pounding. he could still see you in that tight little outfit from earlier, that confident swing of your hips, your glossed lips twitching when you called him hot, like you already knew what that did to him.
and god, what didnât it do to him?
he was so far gone. the way you talked to him, like you were toying with him. like you knew heâd let you. like you knew heâd beg if you asked nicely enough.
fuck.
he shifted on his bed, adjusting himself under the sheets with a hiss.
you had him half-hard from just a few texts and a smile.
his phone buzzed again.
you [1:00am]: wear a shirt like you were wearing today again. the tight one. pls. for science.
toru 𫊠[1:00am]: yes maâam
toru 𫊠[1:00am]: but only if u promise to sit close to me
toru 𫊠[1:00am]: like. real close
you bit your lip, heat crawling up your neck and down your legs.
you [1:01am]: i was gonna sit in ur lap anyway?
gojo made an honest-to-god whimper.
toru 𫊠[1:01am]: brb. passing away. dying. deceased. funeral tmrw before coffee
you laughed into your hands, locking your phone as the giddiness spilled over.
you didnât know why you were getting all hyped over this guy.
he was awkward. kind of dorky. always blushing.
just an awkward guy with a pretty face.
and you?
you were already dressing to impress. already picturing how heâd react when you leaned in close, lipgloss shining. already planning which perfume would drive him crazy.
just coffee.
totally chill.
except your pulse wouldnât slow down, and your smile wouldnât fade.
not even a little.
~
meanwhile, sukuna stood on the patio still, cigarette ash crumbling between his fingers, the cold air biting at his skin, but he didnât feel it. all he could think about was the look in your eyes when you told him off. the way your voice didnât even shake. the way you walked away like he didnât matter. like he was just another hookup who didnât know how to keep his mouth shut.
'fuck.'
he dragged the smoke in deep, holding it in his lungs like it might cauterize the part of him that still gave a shit. but it didnât. it never did.
you always did this. wormed your way under his skin like a parasite. made him feel things he swore he didnât have in him. and every time, he let you. like a fucking idiot.
you werenât his. he wasnât yours. that was the deal. and he liked that. needed it. no strings. no expectations. he fucked, you moaned, and then you went home. clean. efficient.
but tonight?
you had the audacity to smile about some four-eyed loser in a cardigan. to say he was cute, cute, in front of everyone like you werenât the same girl whoâd been choking on his cock last weekend, mascara dripping down your cheeks, begging him to keep going even though you were shaking.
and now? you were giggling over some soft-spoken virgin with library dust in his hair?
fuck off.
he could see it. this âtoruâ guy blushing like a fucking idiot when you touched his arm. stuttering through compliments. looking at you like you hung the stars. and worseâway worseâhe could see you liking it. eating it up. letting yourself be doted on like you were something sweet and fragile.
'what a fucking joke.'
you were a brat. a tease. a bad girl in a tight dress with too much lipgloss and not enough shame. sukuna knew that. he liked that. you werenât soft. you werenât gentle. you were fire and sharp teeth and split thighs. thatâs what he fucked. what he owned.
and now you were giving that soft shit to someone else?
nah.
he got the real you. the parts no one else could handle. the parts that needed someone like him. the late-night chaos. the bruises you didnât want to explain. the shame-soaked mornings where you wouldnât look him in the eye.
he got the truth.
that nerd didnât know you. he didnât know the mess under the makeup. the desperate texts at 2am. the neediness that bled through every time you swore you didnât care.
and you?
you didnât get to act like you were someone new. like you were pure now, just because some pretty boy batted his lashes at you in the nonfiction aisle.
fuck that.
he scoffed under his breath, flicking the dead cigarette into the grass and watching the embers scatter.
this wasnât supposed to matter. none of it was supposed to matter.
you were hot. you were cool. and he thought if he kept it physical, kept it casual, he wouldnât get sucked in.
but there you were. invading his thoughts, ruining his night with one stupid, flirty smile at someone else.
you shouldnât get to do that.
he dug into his pocket for another cigarette and lit it with shaking hands.
he was spiraling and he knew it.
he hated this.
hated how youâd crawl into his head without even trying. hated how you made him feel sixteen again, jealous, stupid, insecure. hated that you didnât even ask him to stay. hated that maybe, just maybe, you didnât want him to.
and he really fucking hated the idea that youâd text that guy tonight.
maybe you already had.
maybe he was texting you back right now, saying something dumb and sweet like you looked really pretty today, and youâd eat it up because that was the shit you liked now, wasnât it?
and sukuna would be out here, sucking down his second cigarette, pretending it didnât gut him.
âfucking hell,â he muttered, tossing the second one too.
he stared up at the night sky, jaw locked, hands shoved deep into his pockets like he could force the feeling down if he just stood still enough.
but it sat there anyway, heavy in his chest.
you were slipping away from him.
and he didnât even know if he wanted to stop you.
~
he walked back into the house like he hadnât just spent twenty minutes outside trying not to feel things. the bass of the music hit him first, pulsing through the floorboards, drowning out whatever was left of his pride. he grabbed another drink just to keep his hands busy. he didnât even know what it was, probably something sugary and cheap,but he needed something to hold so he wouldnât punch a wall.
he spotted yuki first, dancing near the kitchen with shoko and maki, drinks in hand, glittering under the soft lights strung along the ceiling. he didnât bother looking for you at first. he told himself he wouldnât. told himself it didnât matter.
but his eyes betrayed him, scanning the room like they always fucking did.
and there you were.
sitting on the couch, legs tucked under you, grinning down at your phone like it had just told you the funniest joke in the world.
he didnât have to guess who you were texting.
he knew.
the look on your face said it all. soft. dreamy. your glossed lips tilted into a little smirk, teeth poking through as you bit back a laugh. your fingers moved fast, typing something with a kind of excitement he hadnât seen in you in a long time. not with him. not for a while.
you never looked at your phone like that after fucking around with him.
no, you usually ghosted him the next day, like you needed to forget it even happened. like he was something you regretted once the high wore off.
but now you were sitting there in a tight little dress, glowing from the inside out, because some nerd made you smile with a few well-timed texts.
he clenched his jaw, setting his drink down before it cracked in his grip.
' fuck that guy.
fuck his stupid glasses.'
fuck how easily he got your attention after one day.
he took a slow breath, trying to shake it off. he wasnât going to be that guy. the clingy one. the bitter one. he had girls. options. people would kill for a night with him and he knew it. he didnât need you. he never did.
but goddamn, it felt like you were the only thing he wanted in that moment.
he forced himself to move, leaning back against the counter, trying not to watch you as you texted.
you glanced up once, eyes sweeping the room, and you caught him. just for a second. your smile faltered, and you looked away fast, back to your phone, back to 'toru.'
sukunaâs stomach twisted.
you didnât come over.
you didnât even wave.
you just kept texting.
he swallowed hard and looked away.
suguru came up beside him, handing him a new drink. âyou look like youâre about to rock someone's shit.â
âi might,â sukuna muttered, taking the cup.
âyou know sheâs not yours, right?â suguru said casually, like he wasnât cutting sukuna open with the truth.
sukuna didnât answer. he didnât have to.
âjust saying,â suguru added, sipping his own drink, âyou act like you donât care, but every time she entertains someone else you look like youâre about to commit a felony.â
âsheâs not like that with me,â sukuna said quietly.
âyeah,â suguru said, looking back at you, âand maybe thatâs the problem."
he hated that look on your face.
soft. sweet. like someone actually deserved it.
like he hadnât just had you moaning into his neck a week ago.
âunbelievable,â he muttered under his breath, jaw twitching. he pushed off the counter and made his way across the kitchen, bumping past some guy in a letterman jacket hard enough to make the drink in his hand slosh. the guy looked ready to say something, but one glance at sukunaâs expression shut him up.
he thrived on that.
the fear. the respect. the control.
he didnât lose.
and now here he was, second place to some awkward little library rat who probably still asked his mom how to do laundry.
pathetic.
you werenât even that special. not really.nat least that's what he told himself.
you had a pretty face, sure. tight body, knew how to use it.
but god, were you exhausting.
always wanting to âtalkâ after. getting weird if he didnât text back fast enough. acting like he owed you something when all you ever were was convenient.
it wasnât his fault you caught feelings.
it wasnât his fault you mistook a few orgasms for meaning.
and now? you were all smiles and fluttery lashes for some guy whoâd probably cum in his pants if you so much as kissed his neck.
he laughed, bitter and mean, dragging a hand through his hair.
youâd be bored in a week. two, tops.
guys like that didnât know what to do with girls like you.
he did.
he knew how to make you fall apart. knew how to get under your skin, pull sounds out of you you didnât even know you could make. heâd ruined you for other guys, he was sure of it.
and yet there you were, looking like he didnât exist.
looking like he never even mattered.
he downed the rest of his drink and tossed the cup aside like it disgusted him, then stalked toward the hallway without a word to anyone. if he couldnât have your attention, heâd find someone elseâs.
you werenât the only hot girl at this party.
and if you wanted to pretend he didnât matter?
fine.
heâd show you just how easy it was to forget someone.
even if it was a lie.
even if it tore him up inside.
he was good at pretending.
you taught him that.
~
you lock your phone, the ghost of a smile still clinging to your lips, cheeks warm as you sink into the couch cushion. the room buzzes around you, low bass, clinking drinks, scattered laughter, and for a second, you forget where you are. all you can think about is the way satoru types like he canât get the words out fast enough. like heâs trying to hold your attention before you disappear.
you tuck your phone into your purse and push yourself up, brushing your hands down the sides of your dress. no use staying curled up in the corner when the nightâs still young and the liquor is just starting to hit.
âfinally decided to rejoin the rest of us?â suguru calls as you weave through the crowd toward the kitchen.
âwas that you smiling at your phone like a puppy?â choso adds, lifting a red solo cup to his lips with a grin.
you snort, accepting the tequila shot suguru passes you. âshut up.â
âno, really. that was some schoolgirl shit,â choso teases, bumping his shoulder against yours. âwhoâs got you blushing like that, huh?â
you shoot him a look as you throw the shot back, the alcohol burning a slow, sweet trail down your throat. ânobody.â
âmhmm,â suguru hums, not buying it for a second. ânot like you to be giggling like that, especially not when sukunaâs in one of his moods.â
you shrug, licking a little salt from the back of your hand. âheâs always being weird.â
choso raises his brows. âyou good with him?â
âwhy wouldnât i be?â you say, a little too quickly.
they exchange a look but donât push it. instead, suguru downs his shot and offers his hand. âcome dance.â
you let him pull you onto the living room floor, the music thudding loud enough that it vibrates through your heels. choso joins, the three of you falling into a loose rhythm, spinning and swaying under the hazy glow of the string lights. suguruâs hands find your waist, steady but never greedy, while choso twirls you around with a flourish that makes you laugh.
it feels good, easy. warm bodies, familiar faces, and the distraction you didnât know you needed.
you let go for a little while. lose yourself in the music and the alcohol and the safety of your friendsâ touch. suguru dips his head to murmur something that makes you laugh, choso pretending to swoon dramatically in response. you throw your head back, laughing harder, spinning until the room blurs
and then your eyes land on him.
sukuna.
heâs leaned against the far wall, and heâs not alone.
thereâs a girl tucked into his side, long legs, shiny hair, tiny black dress, and sheâs all over him. her hand drags a lazy line down his chest, and he just stands there, smirking like itâs nothing. like sheâs nothing. like youâre nothing.
his fingers ghost along the hem of her dress, drifting lower with zero subtlety. and still, he doesnât look at you. not even a glance. not even a twitch.
you pause mid-step, not frozen exactly, just⊠confused.
because wasnât he the one who got all tense when he heard you talk about another guy? wasnât he the one looking pissed earlier, jaw tight, eyes sharp, when yuki teased you about your little crush? wasnât he the one who always acted like he hated when you gave anyone else your attention, even though he never wanted to claim you outright?
and now this?
your stomach doesnât twist, it just sinks, low and slow. not with jealousy. not with hurt. more like: what the hell is his problem?
you keep moving. force your body to flow with the music again as suguru slides behind you, hands warm at your hips. youâre still dancing. still laughing. still here. but your mind keeps circling back.
itâs not that you expected anything different. not really. you and sukuna were never official. never had rules. never had to check in with each other. but still⊠there was always a tension, a pull, something unspoken between the two of you that made it feel like no one else could come close.
and yet, here he is. practically letting that girl climb him like a tree. acting like you didnât spend last weekend tangled in his sheets. like he didnât tell you just days ago that you made his head spin.
you down another shot when suguru hands it to you, nodding in thanks. it burns going down, but it keeps your face smooth. keeps your smile intact.
choso leans close, voice low in your ear. âyou good?â
you hesitate. nod. âjust donât get him.â
he follows your gaze. sees the way sukuna is still letting that girl grind against him. the way his hand now fully cups her thigh.
âheâs being a dick,â choso says plainly. âyou know that, right?â
âyeah,â you murmur. âi just donât get why.â
suguru cuts in, quiet and even. âbecause you scare him.â
you blink. âwhat?â
âhe doesnât get to control how you feel about someone else. and itâs killing him,â suguru says. âso he does this. acts out. pretends heâs unbothered. heâs not.â
âbut likeâŠâ you glance over again, brows furrowing. âif it bothers him so much, why go hook up with someone right in front of me?â
âbecause heâs immature,â choso replies. âand stupid.â
you exhale, a short breath through your nose. âyeah. that checks out.â
it doesnât hurt, not exactly. it just leaves you feeling weirdly hollow. like something unfinished is hanging in the air between you, something you were never allowed to name.
you pull away from the guys with a small, grateful smile. âiâm gonna go outside for a sec.â
âyou sure?â suguru asks.
you nod. âiâm fine. just wanna clear my head.â
you step out onto the porch, letting the chill air wrap around your bare arms. your heart isnât racing. your hands arenât shaking. but your mind wonât stop running laps.
youâre not mad at sukuna for messing around. you never expected monogamy from him. but you are mad, maybe a little, for the double standard. for how he acts like itâs betrayal when you even mention another guy, and then turns around and grabs the first girl who bats her lashes at him.
itâs not jealousy. itâs not heartbreak.
itâs just⊠tired.
you deserve more than someone who only wants you when itâs convenient.
your phone buzzes.
toru 𫊠[2:07am]: i canât stop thinking about u
you smile a little. softer now. gentler.
toru 𫊠[2:08am]: u looked so pretty tonight btw. i saw your post on instagram!
you [2:08am]: ur sweet. i needed that.
and you mean it.
you donât even have to wonder about his intentions. satoru makes you feel wanted without playing games. without dangling affection like a prize. he doesnât try to make you jealous. doesnât punish you for being desirable.
he just likes you. for you.
toru 𫊠[2:09am]: good. iâll remind u in person tomorrow :)
you laugh, the sound slipping out before you can stop it. light and real and unfussy.
maybe thatâs the difference.
with sukuna, itâs always been messy. volatile. a push-pull you never had the rules for. he likes you, but only when it hurts. only when heâs the one making the rules.
but with satoru?
it feels easy. like you could be soft without having to apologize for it.
you slide your phone back into your purse and square your shoulders.
youâre not gonna let sukuna take this night from you. he doesnât get to own your attention. not anymore.
you head back inside, head higher than before.
the night isnât over yet.
and tomorrow?
youâve got a date with a boy who looks at you like youâre the best thing thatâs ever happened to him.
and maybe, for once, thatâs exactly what you need.
~
satoru stood outside the bluebird cafĂ©, adjusting his tight black shirt that showed off his sleeper build perfectly, for the fifth time. his hands were shaking slightly, heart thudding in his chest like a drumbeat. it wasnât the coffee date that had him nervous. it was you.
you had that effect on him, on everyone, really. the thought of seeing you outside the chaos of the library, outside of that brief, awkward interaction where heâd fumbled through every word, made his stomach twist.
heâd told himself he was going to be cool, collected. he could do this. it was just a coffee date. no big deal. heâd gotten through way worse. but none of that had prepared him for how his breath caught every time he thought of how youâd looked in that stupid skirt and that ridiculous attitude that was so effortlessly attractive.
you were the kind of girl who looked like she belonged in a music video, the kind who could walk into a room and immediately make every other girl look like they were wearing the wrong outfit. and every guy would look at you with that same dumb, slack-jawed expression.
satoru shoved his hands in his pockets, adjusting his glasses, and forced himself to open the door. he didnât have to look around to know you were here. he could feel your presence. the tension in his shoulders had already relaxed, just the thought of your energy pulling him in like a magnet.
when his eyes found youâfuck. it was like a punch to the gut.
you were sitting at the corner table, like you owned the place. of course, you did. you had that undeniable âiâm too cool for you, but iâll let you lookâ kinda vibe.
you wore a tiny denim skirt that was, to be frank, barely even a skirt. a rhinestone-studded top that clung to you in all the right ways, and those chunky platform heels that screamed âdiva.â your lips were glossy and full, glistening under the soft cafĂ© lighting, and your hair was perfectly messyx just enough to look like youâd rolled out of bed, but still looked like a million bucks.
satoruâs breath caught in his throat.
his eyes drifted lower, watching how the hem of your skirt just barely grazed the edge of your thighs, how the way you moved your hand to adjust your drink made his brain short-circuit for a second.
your eyes locked with his as he approached the table, and for a second, time stopped. you smirked, that damn smirk that sent a rush of heat straight to his chest. he could feel his body temperature rise, and before he could stop himself, his brain ran through a dozen inappropriate thoughts at once.
fuck. you looked so gorgeous. he wasnât prepared for just how gorgeous. his mind ran through a series of scenarios that were definitely not appropriate for public spaces, none of which helped the fact that his heart was now hammering in his chest like a jackhammer.
you were so⊠confident. he hated it. no one should have that much power over him, especially someone who he was almost two times bigger than.
âhey,â you greeted, your voice a little too smooth for his liking, like you knew exactly what effect you were having on him. he could see the way your eyes roamed over him, amusement dancing in your gaze. you probably knew exactly what you were doing to him.
âhey,â he managed to say, sitting down across from you, trying to act normal, trying to ignore the way his thoughts were spiraling.
you leaned forward slightly, your fingers wrapping around the cup of iced tea you had already ordered as you took a sip, a slow, deliberate motion that only made things worse.
âso, i see you listened,â you teased, your lips curling into that seductive smile. âthat shirt looks so hot on you, toru.â
satoru flushed, already regretting that he had let you get under his skin so easily. but when you looked at him like that, eyes gleaming, lips glossed and soft, he couldnât help it.
âthank you, you look stunning.â he muttered, his voice suddenly rough. his mind was already back to thinking about what heâd seen when you smiled like that, the way his body reacted in ways he definitely shouldnât have let it.
he couldnât help but imagine what you would be like in his bed. not that heâd ever say it out loud, but the thought haunted him. could he make you beg for him? could he make you moan his name like you probably did for that pink haired guy you were with at the library? would you let him pull you closer, your breath hot and needy as he kissed you until you couldnât think anymore?
god, he hated that you could make him think about these things.
satoru shifted in his seat, trying to seem nonchalant but his body betrayed him. âthanks for asking me to come along, didnât know you were the one to make moves, especially not on boring nerds like me,â he said, a cocky grin finding its way to his lips despite the growing ache in his chest.
your eyes narrowed, amusement twinkling behind them. âi like that you know your place,â you said, the words light but with an edge, as if daring him to challenge you.
he shifted in his seat again, fighting the urge to lean forward and test the limits of that challenge. âtrust me,â he said, âi know exactly where i stand.â
you laughed, low and sweet, and he almost lost it right there. his hands gripped his cup tightly, knuckles white, as he tried to focus on anything but the way your lips curved when you smiled. you were dangerously close to being everything he wanted, and he hated it. hated that he wanted you so badly.
~
by now you two had fallen into comfortable conversation.
you laughed at something he said, something dumb and not nearly as clever as he wanted it to be, and satoru thought he might melt into the floor. it wasnât just the sound of your laugh, though that alone could wreck him; it was the way your hand rested casually on the table between you, your fingers brushing his every now and then like it was nothing. but to him, it felt like everything.
you tilted your head, giving him that soft little smile that made him feel like you saw right through him.
âyouâre adorable when youâre trying so hard to be smooth,â you said gently, voice lilting like a secret between friends. your tone was sweet, not mocking, but it still made heat crawl up the back of his neck. âlike, youâre actually pulling it off. just barely.â
satoru smirked, covering up his absolute internal collapse with a shrug. âi donât try. i am smooth,â he said jokingly, praying you wouldnât notice the way his foot was tapping under the table from nerves. âthis is just my natural charm.âhe said with a big goofy smile.
you leaned forward, resting your chin in your hand, elbows on the table. your lips curved into the softest, most devastating smirk. âoh? so youâve accidentally been giving me bedroom eyes this whole time?â
he choked on his coffee.
you giggled and reached over to lightly pat his chest, like you were soothing him after delivering the most casual, lethal blow. ârelax, toru. i think itâs sweet. guys like you donât usually give me the time of day.â
he blinked, stunned. âguys like me?â
âyou know,â you said, like it was obvious, âthe smart, weirdly-pretty ones. the ones who donât realize theyâre hot because theyâve been sheltered their whole life.â
he stared at you, utterly ruined. âyou really think iâm hot don't you? keep on saying it. not that i mind.â
âoh, baby,â you said with a little laugh, âyou donât get to sit across from me all soft and shy and pretending not to stare at my lips, and act like you donât know the effect youâre having.â
his mouth went dry.
but your voice softened again, gentler this time, like you could sense he was hovering right on the edge of overload. âyouâre really sweet, toru. funny, too. i like how you get flustered when i push you a little.â
he tried to summon a coherent response, but his brain was short-circuiting. you were too much, kind and confident, beautiful and bold, and now you were complimenting him like it was nothing?
âiâuhâyeah, no, i like you too,â he finally managed, rubbing the back of his neck. âa lot, actually.â
you smiled at him, soft, fond, and then stood slowly, adjusting your mini skirt with deliberate care. your sweater slipped a little off one shoulder and you didnât bother fixing it. you let his eyes linger.
âso listen,â you said casually, slinging your purse over your shoulder. âi have this little shoot i need to do for a brand deal tonight. just a few instagram shots. nothing crazy. cute little set, fluffy lighting, all that.â you tilted your head again, voice syrupy sweet. âyou good with a camera, toru?â
he blinked. âuh⊠i mean, yeah. i guess? iâve done some stuff for the yearbook.â
âperfect.â you smiled like a cat whoâd just caught something in her claws. âi think youâll be really good at capturing all my... angles.â
his brain stuttered.
âyou wanna come by?â you asked, already typing something into your phone. âyou can help me out. iâll feed you. and maybe after⊠iâll let you pick which photos i post.â
his mouth opened. no sound came out.
you looked up and smiled, soft, radiant, but still with that glint of mischief behind your lashes. âunless youâve got better plans than coming back to my place and watching me pose in a juicy couture set?â
he almost knocked over his drink standing up.
âgreat,â you said brightly, as if you hadnât just set his entire nervous system on fire. âiâll text you my address. bring your hands. i might need help adjusting.â
and with that, you leaned in, kissed his cheek so softly he thought he imagined it, and walked out, hips swaying, head high, leaving him to sit there, stunned and overheating, wondering how the hell he was supposed to survive whatever came next.
~
'holy fucking shit.'
satoru was still in his seat, mouth parted slightly, the ghost of your kiss burning on his cheek like it had been stamped there. his hands trembled around the now-lukewarm cup of coffee he hadnât touched since you started chatting and proceeded to ruin his entire internal equilibrium.
you were gone. walked out like it was nothing. like you hadnât just asked him, him, to come back to your apartment and help you take instagram photos, like you hadnât just tilted your glossy mouth toward his skin, kissed him soft and sweet and unearned.
he blinked.
then blinked again.
was he dead? was this a near-death hallucination? maybe the universe was punishing him for all those nights he zoomed in on your thirst traps at 2 a.m. with trembling fingers and a blank expression, whispering, âjesus christ,â to no one like it was a prayer.
you were god. you were everything. and youâd just invited him over like it was casual. like it didnât undo months of fantasies. years of longing. this was not how it was supposed to happen. he was supposed to pine forever, secretly. obsess quietly.
notâŠthis.
his phone buzzed, and when he fumbled for it, his screen lit up with a new message.
you [3:14pm]: hereâs my address. text me when youâre outside. :) come over sometime later, yeah?
satoru almost dropped the phone.
you [3:16pm]: don't forget to bring your handsss!
bring your hands.
he rubbed a hand down his face, cheeks flushed, ears burning. his brain was running at 200mph, playing reel after reel of every single post youâd ever uploaded. every grainy mirror pic, every behind-the-scenes video, every thirst trap with the caption âdonât text ur ex, text me instead <3ââwhich he had once seriously considered replying to with âokâ before deleting it like a coward.
you were chaos incarnate, dripping lip gloss and destruction. the human embodiment of the for you page and heâd liked every post. every single one. anonymously. pathetically. from the dark corner of his bedroom, dim blue light glowing against his glasses as he muttered things like, âsheâs unreal. sheâs actually not real. they made her in a lab.â
heâd saved your bikini pics. zoomed in on the brand tags like a freak. reverse searched your lipstick shades. bought the magazines you were featured in, yes, plural. he had a stack of them in a drawer under his bed like some kind of teenage dirtbag, some with his computer cables in his drawer.
pages dog-eared, his favorite ones burned into his memory. one of them had a spread where you wore this ridiculous rhinestone bikini on a beach, holding a dripping popsicle with your tongue out, and he was still not okay from that shoot.
satoru stared at your text like it was written in gold. like it would vanish if he didnât cherish it hard enough.
he groaned. out loud. in public. attracting a confused glance from the barista cleaning the counter. he stood up fast, slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder like a man on a mission.
~
by the time he was outside your apartment door, his palms were damp.
you lived in the bougiest building on campus, the kind of place with gold-trimmed elevators and a concierge who looked like heâd sooner tase someone than let them loiter. satoru had to buzz up, which was another level of humiliation he hadnât mentally prepared for.
you answered with a playful, âbe right there,â and he swore your voice alone could short-circuit his brain. when the door finally opened, he almost blacked out.
you were in a tiny zip-up hoodie, baby pink, cropped at your ribs with juicy scrawled in rhinestones across the back, and the tiniest matching shorts heâd ever seen in his life. you were barefoot. you looked like a trashy 2000's supermodel. like an ashanti music video vixen. like someone whoâd ruined countless menâs lives just by biting their straw.
âhey, toru,â you said, sweet as sugar. âyou brought all of you, right?â
he swallowed hard. âi brought all of me.â
you giggled and tugged him inside by the wrist.
he nearly tripped over his own feet entering your place. the air smelled like vanilla and something dangerously flirty. your apartment was exactly how he imagined it: mirrors everywhere, pink lighting, framed photos of you on the wall. a vanity covered in makeup. pink fuzzy rug underfoot. was that⊠a pole in the corner?
'jesus christ.'
he tried not to stare too hard as you sauntered across the room, hips swinging, grabbing your phone and ring light.
he noticed how you kicked a hoodie that looked way too big to fit you under your bed discreetly, he managed to read 'kappa' printed on the back. wasn't that sukunas frat? he was pushed out of his head by the sound of your voice.
âso,â you drawled, throwing a wink over your shoulder, âyouâve stalked my instagram enough, you know my angles, right?â
satoruâs laugh came out strangled. âuh, yeah. yeah, totally.â
he did. he really did. he knew exactly how you posed, how you tilted your head just slightly for selfies, how you arched your back just a little for those mirror pics, how you gripped the waistband of your juicy pants like it was the most natural thing in the world to drive men to insanity with a pose. heâd studied them. like they were scripture.
you sat down on your velvet couch and grabbed a tube of gloss, reapplying it with a pout. âyou nervous?â
âno,â he lied. âiâm... iâm excited. yeah. iâve always wanted to see the magic happen live.â
âoh, baby,â you purred, âyou are the magic.â
he made a noise. an embarrassing one.
you tossed him your phone and struck a pose, leaning back on your palms with your knees spread just slightly. âgo on, toru. get my good side.â
you didnât have a bad side.
he fumbled with the camera app, trying to focus on anything besides the way your tank top stretched across your chest, the way your shorts rode up on your thighs, the glint of a belly button ring catching the light.
click.
âyouâre shaking,â you teased.
âiâm fine.â
âmm. iâll be the judge of that.â you repositioned, crawling forward on your hands and knees across the couch like you werenât trying to end his entire life.
click. click.
âtoru,â you said sweetly, âare you blushing?â
âabsolutely not.â
you laughed and flipped your hair over one shoulder. âyouâre so cute. i like you.â
he was going to die here. he was going to drop dead in your living room with nothing but his own frantic, horny thoughts and your body burned into his retinas.
you held out a hand. âgimme. i wanna see.â
he passed you the phone with trembling fingers. you scrolled through the shots, nodding in approval. âthese are actually good. like, really good. iâm impressed.â
âthanks,â he said, voice cracking. âi, uh⊠do some photography stuff on the side. for class.â
âmm, bet you do,â you said, not looking up. âbet youâre good with your hands, huh?â
he opened his mouth. closed it. opened it again.
you glanced up, expression sweet and wicked. âyou okay, toru?â
âiâm great.â
âyou look like youâre gonna combust.â
âi might.â
you leaned back into the couch, phone in your lap, and studied him with that same soft-lipped smile. âyouâre adorable,â you said, voice quieter now. âall that brainpower, all that quiet nerd energy, and youâre sitting here losing your mind over me in shorts.â
he groaned into his hands. âcan you blame me?â
you laughed. ânot at all. i like it. you make me feel powerful.â
he peeked through his fingers, helpless. âyou are powerful.â
you tilted your head. âthen why do you look like youâre about to pass out?â
he sighed dramatically. âbecause iâm in your apartment. you just crawled across a couch like a centerfold. iâve seen your instagram stories like, eighty million times. i subscribe to the magazine youâre on the cover of. and now youâre here. being cute. and sexy. and funny. and calling me toru like weâre... like this is normal.â
your expression softened, something real flickering behind your lashes.
âtoru,â you said, and this time it was less teasing. more intimate. âyou really like me?â
he nodded. âkinda obsessed with you, actually.â
you smiled. slow and sweet.
then you got up, crossed the room, and straddled his lap before he could blink.
maybe sleeping with satoru is what you needed to make your conscience stop thinking about sukuna and that bitch at the party earlier.
his heart nearly fucked itself over.
you cupped his face gently, thumbs brushing his cheeks. âgood,â you whispered. âbecause i kinda like you too.â
he swallowed. âkind of?â
you grinned. âwell. i liked you in the library. i love you with a camera in your hands... my own personal photographer.â
his breath hitched.
you shifted on the couch, camera forgotten in your lap, as you studied satoruâs face, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, that gorgeous white hair falling in soft waves over his forehead. you looked like a vixen straight off a low-res 2004 myspace album, lips glossy, attitude filthy-sweet, thighs barely crossed. he was already unraveling.
âokay toru,â you said, voice dripping in something syrupy, slow, and dangerous, âi think weâre gonna start with something a little more⊠intimate.â
his mouth went dry the moment you pulled out the velvet rope. pink. soft. sensual. his brain blanked.
ârope?â he choked.
âyeah,â you smiled, casually, like you werenât turning his entire nervous system into static. âi want you to tie my wrists. loosely. make sure i can still move my hands around.â you leaned forward, offering your arms like it was a fucking privilege. âthink you can handle that?â
no. he absolutely could not. but he still nodded, taking the rope with shaking hands. his fingers brushed your skin as he looped it around your wrists, and that alone had his dick twitching in his jeans. he swore under his breath.
'she smells like vanilla and heat and fuck me,' he thought, looping the velvet. 'i havenât even touched her properly and iâd die for her right now.'
you let your arms fall back, raising your bound wrists over your head in a pose so casually provocative that his mouth parted on instinct. the rope pulled tight just enough to bite. your top slid higher, barely covering anything. the whole scene looked like it belonged in a magazine he wouldâve hidden under his bed in high school, and now it was real. in his lap. begging to be remembered.
he swallowed hard. 'iâm gonna wet dream about this forever.'
âyou look ravishing,â he whispered hoarsely.
âdo i?â you teased, tilting your head. âwant to see more?â
you let one strap of your tiny rhinestone top fall. then the other. and when you pulled it down just enough to expose one perfect breast, nipple glossy from a layer of shimmer lotion.
you knew exactly what you were doing to him.
his brain short-circuited.
'holy shit holy shit iâve jacked off to pictures of her and now sheâs half naked in front of me and iâm not gonna survive this.'
click.
the shutter snapped and he wasnât even sure if his hand had moved. he took another, then another, each frame of your body more brazen, more artful, more his.
you arched under the dim light, toes pointed, eyes lidded. your lip caught between your teeth as you said, âthese ones⊠theyâre only for you.â
his heart fucking stopped.
âtheyâre not going online,â you added sweetly, glancing up through your lashes. âno other one of my fans gets to see me like this. just you, toru. my number one fan."
he clenched the camera harder, fighting the urge to fall to his knees and thank the gods for whatever good karma led him here. 'only me. fuck. fuck. sheâs mine.' even if it was just for tonight. even if it was only temporary.
you shifted again, slowly opening your legs as you lay back, balls if your heels digging into the cushions. the hem of your panties, bright pink and sparkly barely clung to you. he could see the outline of everything. and then you stretched, arms over your head, making your stomach tighten and your tits rise beautifully, rope still binding you just right.
âtoru,â you breathed, eyes locked on his, âdo you want to see me take them off?â
'god yes. god fucking yes. i want to see whatâs under that glitter. i want to taste it. i want to ruin her. fuck.'
he nodded. âyeah,â he rasped. âplease.â
your fingers slipped under the waistband slowly, deliberately, dragging the panties down your thighs with an elegant arch of your spine. and he watched, stared, like it was the last thing heâd ever see.
âdonât worry,â you said, tossing them onto his lap. âthese arenât for instagram either.â
his cock throbbed. it was unbearable. it was heaven.
he took more shots, each one filthier than the last, legs spread, lips parted, bound wrists clutching the edge of the couch as you moaned softly for him. you looked like you belonged in a pornographic museum. like a goddess on her throne letting her chosen mortal worship.
and youâd picked him.
'sheâs gonna kill me. iâm gonna nut in my jeans like a fucking loser. oh my god.'
you sat up, resting your chin on his shoulder while he adjusted the camera. âyou okay?â you whispered, pressing a kiss to his ear. âyouâre breathing kinda heavy, baby.â
'call me baby again and iâll fucking bark.'
âjust⊠warm in here,â he muttered, cheeks red, voice strained.
you smiled and trailed a finger down the center of his chest. âpoor thing. want a break?â
he looked down at you, your chest still bared, your body shining with light, legs folded in perfect lazy confidence. âyou think i could survive a break?â he asked, voice lower now. rougher.
you laughed. soft. wicked. âfair point.â
then you took the camera from his hands, placed it on the table, and straddled his lap in one easy motion.
âno more pictures,â you said. ânow you can just look.â
his hands flew to your waist on instinct, gripping you like you were the only real thing in the universe. and honestly, to him, you were.
'how did this happen? how the fuck did i go from jacking off to her tiktok thirst traps to having her in my lap, tits out, moaning my name?'
you cupped his face, voice softer now. âyou okay?â
he nodded.
you leaned in and whispered, âdo you want to touch me?â
he nodded again, too fast.
you smirked. âthen do it. but be gentle. i like being handled like iâm expensive.â
âyou are,â he said instantly, voice ragged. âyouâre the most expensive thing iâve ever touched.â
you kissed him for that. deep and filthy and grateful. and as he dragged his palms over your ass, up your waist, over your bare chest, he was already gone.
and somewhere in the back of his hazy, lust-soaked brain, he knew one thing with absolute certainty:
these pictures?
these moments?
they were only for him.
and if you ever asked, heâd burn the whole world to keep them safe.
you gasped into his kiss as his fingers tightened on your hips, pulling you flush against him. his breath was hot and ragged, mixing with yours in the close air of your living room. you felt the curve of his mouth against your neck, the brush of his stubble as he nipped gently at your skin.
'heâs so warm,' you thought, sliding your hands through his hair, tangling your fingers in the soft white strands. 'and heâs mine, right here, right now.'
he moaned low, almost lost in the feeling of you beneath him. youâd taught him how to pose you like a goddess for the camera; now he was learning how to worship you in real time. his hand slid up your back, then lower, fingertips grazing the top of your panties still bunched around your thighs.
âyou know,â he murmured against your ear, voice thick with want, âiâve wanted this for so fucking long. i don't even think this is real.â
you smiled against his skin, tugging at his hoodie so you could slide it off his shoulders. âi can tell,â you purred. âi promise i'm real toru. real and all yours right now.â
he lifted his head to meet your eyes, those pale blues shimmering with need.
your laugh was soft, sultry. âoh, baby,â you said, rolling your hips against him, âi wanted you before i knew your name.â
his pupils dilated, and he swallowed hard. âfuck,â he breathed. âyouâre gonna kill me.â
you cupped his face, thumb brushing his lower lip. âonly if you want me to,â you teased, leaning in to kiss him again. this time, your tongue brushed his, and he groaned, hands fisting in your hair.
'holy shit,' he thought, 'this is real. sheâs here, wanting me, touching me.'
you pulled back, slipping off the last barrier, his jeans, until both of you were just skin and heat. you guided his hands to your body, showing him where to touch, where to press, encouraging him with soft moans and glowing praise. every direction you gave him made his confidence soar, made him believe he could be the one to make you melt.
he paused, looking into your eyes. âi⊠i want to make you feel good,â he said, voice husky. âreally good.â
you smiled, heart swelling. âthen show me, baby.â
he nodded, then bent to kiss you again, this time more tender, more deliberate. he let his palms roam your body, over your breasts, down your waist, skimming the curve of your hips. you pressed into him, encouraging him, letting him know just how right it felt.
'heâs so gentle' you thought. 'so respectful. and so fucking good with his hands.'
you moaned, wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. âtoru,â you gasped, âfuck me.â
he hesitated only a moment, surprised by your boldness, and then he was inside you, filling you in slow, delicious thrusts. your breath caught, and you clutched his shoulders as he moved, your rope-bound wrists sliding free in the heat of the moment.
âshit,â he groaned, chest pressed against yours. âyouâre perfect.â
you arched against him, closing your eyes. âyeah⊠perfect for you.â
his pace quickened, fueled by your praise, your soft encouragements, your needy gasps. every time he hit that sweet spot, you cried out his name, and it sent a thrill rippling through him.
'my name on her lipsâŠ' he thought, 'this is everything.'
you rode him hard, matching his thrusts until both of you were breathless, skin slick with sweat and sheen of your own arousal. you held him tight, panting, and pressed a kiss to his collarbone.
âletâs finish the shoot later,â you whispered against his skin, voice thick with satisfaction and warmth. âright now⊠just us.â
he kissed you back, slow and tender, and you felt his body tremble. âjust us,â he echoed.
and in that moment, tangled together on your couch, every magazine cover, every instagram scroll, every stolen fantasy heâd ever had of you crystallized into this single, perfect reality, warm, messy, intimate, and wholly, irrevocably yours.
~
you were now tucked beneath the folds of your plush throw blanket, legs tangled with his, head resting against his bare chest as the glow from your salt lamp bathed the apartment in a hazy, honeyed light. his arm was slung loosely around your waist, fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin. satoru had never been this close to someone, physically, emotionally, and his brain was still catching up.
you were real. warm, beautiful, half-naked and still glittering from the camera flash and sweat. and now you were curled into his side like it was the most natural thing in the world.
âyou okay?â you murmured, voice soft, a little breathy.
âam i okay?â he huffed a quiet laugh. âi just lived out the most insane fantasy of my life, and now iâm laying here with the hottest girl in the universe like itâs normal.â
you tilted your head back to look at him, eyes half-lidded and mischievous. âhottest girl in the universe, huh?â
âscientifically proven,â he said, smug but still pink in the cheeks. âobjectively. you broke the hotness scale.â
you giggled, then leaned up to kiss his cheek, slow and sweet. âyouâre so dramatic,â you whispered against his skin.
his heart thumped. he wanted to keep you here forever, in this little soft bubble that smelled like your body lotion and sounded like your quiet laughter. but instead, you stretched like a cat against him, bare legs brushing his, and said, âsoâŠâ
he blinked, brain short-circuiting again. âso?â
you propped your chin on his chest, gazing up at him with that glittery, effortless confidence of someone who knew she had him wrapped around her finger. âthereâs a party tomorrow night,â you said casually, tracing patterns on his stomach. âyou should come.â
satoru blinked. âa⊠party?â
âmm-hmm. like, a real one,â you teased. ânot like a dungeons and dragons meetup or whatever you nerds do.â
âhey,â he laughed, âfirst of all, rude. second of all⊠are you serious?â
âdead serious,â you purred. âitâs at suguruâs place. itâll be mostly my friends. youâll meet everyone.â
satoruâs stomach dropped a little. your friends. the one he saw with face tattoos and designer sunglasses and mysterious piercings in places he couldnât guess. the ones who always looked like they just stepped out of a campaign ad for a luxury fashion line. the ones who probably wouldnât even look twice at him if he wasnât draped in your attention like an accessory.
âwonât they think itâs weird?â he asked before he could stop himself. âme being there.â
you raised an eyebrow, amused. âwhy would it be weird?â
âbecauseâŠâ he swallowed, trying to sound cooler than he felt. âiâm not exactly in your league.â you sat up, straddling his waist now, your eyes burning into his. âtoru,â you said, serious, âdonât ever say that again.â his breath hitched.
you leaned down, pressing your lips to his. âyouâre sexy, smart, and you make me laugh. you made me nervous. so if youâre coming to the party, you better show up like you belong.â he stared at you, stunned. âyou were nervous?â
âduh.â you smiled. âyou were wearing that little tight black shirt and looking all hot and mysterious. i thought youâd ghost me after coffee.â he buried his face in your neck, groaning. âi literally thought i was going to faint when i saw you in that skirt.â
âgood,â you whispered, threading your fingers through his hair. âi wore it just to fuck with you." he moaned dramatically, pulling you closer. âyouâre evil.â
âand you like it.â he couldnât deny it. you were fire and silk and sugar and bite, and he was hopelessly addicted.
âso?â you whispered, brushing your lips against his. âyou coming to the party or what?â he nodded, breathless. âyeah. fuck it. iâm coming.â
you grinned. âgood. bring your charm, toru. my friends are gonna love you.â you said it like a promise, not a possibility. like he already belonged.and for the first time in a long time, he almost believed it.
~
group chat: the pretty committee
(you, yuki, choso, suguru, shoko, maki, sukuna, nanami, shiu)
you â© [9:43pm]: kappa mixer on saturday night. iâm bringing a plus one btw
yuki đ§ [9:43pm]: oh?? do we know him or is this another random model-slash-dj you found at pilates
you â© [9:44pm]: neither. itâs toru. the library one
choso đ„ [9:44pm]: wait toru?? like. satoru gojo??
maki đ„ [9:45pm]: the one you said looked like he types in html for fun?
you â© [9:45pm]: he does. itâs hot
shoko đŹ [9:45pm]: youâre bringing your nerdy little fantasy to the mixer? this is big
you â© [9:46pm]: weâre just friends. chill
suguru đ [9:46pm]: uh huh. just friends who take steamy photos together and then go silent for six hours. got it.
you â© [9:46pm]: not steamy. artistic, and how did yk i only told yuki đđđŒ
shoko đŹ [9:46pm]: mm. âartistic.â sure.
yuki đ§ [9:47pm]: oops... anyways please tell me you at least warned him that sukuna might bite
you â© [9:47pm]: heâs a big boy. he can handle it
maki đ„ [9:47pm]: he survived a coffee date with you, he can probably survive a frat party
you â© [9:48pm]: exactly
nanami âł [9:48pm]: just tell him not to drink anything suguru hands him. thatâs the only advice that matters
suguru đ [9:48pm]: excuse me?? iâm a generous host
shiu đ·ïž [9:49pm]: generous with what. vodka or trauma?
you â© [9:49pm]: okay but actually. be nice to him
suguru đ [9:49pm]: iâm always nice. heâs cute. nerdy. polite. kinda like nanami if he still had joy in his eyes
nanami âł [9:49pm]: i can leave this chat
suguru đ [9:49pm]: no you canât
choso đ„ [9:50pm]: sukuna? you good?
sukuna ⥠[9:51pm]: fine. just didnât realize we were inviting groupies to my frat
yuki đ§ [9:51pm]: omg
choso đ„ [9:51pm]: man. come on
maki đ„ [9:52pm]: this is why we canât have nice things
you â© [9:52pm]: gojo's not a groupie. heâs literally a person. yâall will be normal or i swear to god
sukuna ⥠[9:52pm]: no one said anything. itâs your life. do what you want i ain't pulling up i'm busy
you â© [9:53pm]: thanks. i will.
suguru đ [9:53pm]: and the drama begins before the drinks are even poured. weâre so back
shoko đŹ [9:53pm]: love when the pregame starts in the group chat
shiu đ·ïž [9:54pm]: should i bring popcorn or bail money?
you â© [9:54pm]: anyway. toruâs coming. wear something cute. try not to scare him off.
~
meanwhile, sukuna was scowling at his phone. he stared at the last message you sent, thumb hovering over the screen like it was taunting him.
'toruâs coming. wear something cute. try not to scare him off.'
his jaw ticked.
satoru.
toru.
like he needed the nickname shoved in his face again. like he hadnât already figured out you were letting that four-eyed pretty boy get his hands all over you. not that heâd said anything. not that he had a right to. not anymore.
you werenât his. not officially. not really.
but you had been, in every way that mattered. in the way you used to climb into his lap without asking, drunk on vodka and power, whispering all your filthy secrets into his ear. in the way he could make you beg with just a hand on your thigh, in the way your eyes used to flick toward him at every party even if you showed up with someone else.
he used to be the one who got under your skin. the one youâd crawl back to after breaking someone elseâs heart. the one youâd come to when you were sick of boys and needed a man.
and now? now you were bringing some soft-spoken, glasses-wearing, overachieving fucker to the mixer like you were introducing him to the family. like he was real. sukuna exhaled through his nose and tossed his phone on the bed.
he already knew who he was. satoru. the honors student. the tutor. the sweet one. the one you flirted with at the library just to prove you could. sukuna remembered watching it, how your voice dipped lower, how you tilted your head when you asked for his number, the way you said toru like it was already a pet name.
and now you were texting the group chat like he was coming to the damn cookout. it shouldnât have bothered him. it wasnât supposed to. he had girls on rotation. he had no shortage of hookups. but none of them were you. none of them had that glint in their eye, that attitude, that stupid, intoxicating mix of gloss and venom and sugar that made him feel like a rabid dog just for wanting a taste.
he lit a cigarette and opened your instagram.
he didnât even have to search. you were at the top of his stories. you always were. he watched the one you posted two hours ago. a link to your new post, a perfectly captured album of you. a cropped hoodie. thighs out. caption: 'might delete later.'
fuck you.
he stared at the photo like it owed him something. your smudged lip gloss. the slight indent of a ring on your finger where youâd been playing with your jewelry. the shadow of someone in the background 'was that him?' no, just a lamp.
still.
he swiped back to your page. all those tagged posts from yuki, suguru, choso. none with gojo. not yet.but he was coming. heâd be there, saturday night, in your orbit, breathing your air, looking at you the way everyone did, like you were the sun, and maybe, just maybe, youâd start looking back.
thatâs what scared him. not that gojo liked you. but that you might like him back.
he took another drag and let the smoke burn in his lungs longer than necessary, jaw tight as he exhaled. fuck it. he could play it cool. he always did. heâd smirk, talk shit, wrap his arm around someone hotter, louder, easier. make sure everyone saw. especially you.
pretend it didnât bother him when your eyes skipped right over him in a room. pretend it didnât fucking matter that you hadnât come back.
like none of those nights meant shit. all that time youâd spent in his lap, tugging at his chain and moaning his name like it was gospel, just so you could turn around and let some floppy-haired loser in a tight black tee take your fucking instagram pictures?
you traded him in for someone soft. someone polite. someone who probably apologized after cumming too fast. he scoffed, tossing the half-finished joint onto the ashtray with more force than necessary. pathetic.
sukuna leaned back on the mattress, bare chest rising and falling slow under the dim red lights, smoke curling above him like it was trying to fill the silence. the room felt empty. stupidly empty.
he thought about texting you. something slick. something cruel. maybe 'hope he doesnât cry when he finds out where that mouthâs been.' or 'you always go for the ones you can control, huh?'
but he didnât. just sat there, jaw grinding, thumbs still, screen glowing back at him. eyes sharp. chest tight with that ugly kind of jealousy he swore heâd grown out of.
'what a fucking joke.'
you were his first. you were supposed to stay that way.
~
the uber pulled up to the kappa frat house which was the furthest frat from campus. the sun dipped below the horizon long ago, casting the sky in a warm, dusky glow. gojo sat in the backseat, watching you re-apply your gloss, heart pounding like a drum in his chest. he glanced over at you again, radiant as ever, your lips curled into a soft smile as you scrolled through your phone.
âyou okay?â you asked, sensing his nerves.
âyeah,â he replied, voice a little too high-pitched. âjust⊠a lot of people, you know?âyou chuckled, reaching over to squeeze his hand. âyouâll be fine. theyâre just people. my people, but still.â
he nodded, trying to steady his breathing. the memory of the night before flashed in his mind, your body pressed against his, the way you whispered his name, the softness of your skin beneath his fingertips. it felt surreal, like a dream he never wanted to wake from.
âlast night was⊠amazing,â he murmured, eyes meeting yours.
you leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. âit was,â you agreed. âbut tonightâs about fun. letâs not overthink it.âthe car came to a stop, and you both stepped out, the sound of music and laughter spilling into the street. gojo took a deep breath, adjusting his glasses.
âready?â you asked, offering your hand. he took it, fingers intertwining with yours. âready.â
as you walked up the steps, the door swung open, revealing a sea of faces. conversations halted, eyes turning to the two of you. gojo felt the weight of their gazes, the scrutiny, the curiosity. âwhoâs that?â someone whispered.
âis that her new guy?â another murmured. he swallowed hard, resisting the urge to shrink back. you squeezed his hand, grounding him.
âignore them,â you whispered. âtheyâll come around.â you led him through the crowd, past familiar faces and curious stares, until you reached a plush couch in the corner. you both sat down, the noise of the party fading into the background.
âsee? not so bad,â you said, leaning into him. he smiled, the tension in his shoulders easing. âyeah. not so bad.â
as you chatted about the party, your friends, and the latest gossip, gojo couldnât help but feel a sense of belonging. with you by his side, the world seemed a little less daunting.
youâre halfway through your drink when you spot them weaving through the crowd, choso and suguru, side by side, both dressed in their version of âcasualâ which somehow still looked like a fashion campaign.
choso in a black sleeveless mock-neck that showed off his tattooed arms and a single chain glinting against his collarbone. suguru, laidback and smiling, with his hair tied low and a fitted shirt open at the chest like heâd just walked off a yacht.they zero in on you immediately, and you can already see the glint in suguruâs eyes.
âwell, well,â he says as he gets close, his voice warm, teasing. âso this is the mystery man.â satoru stands to greet them, and you watch chosoâs brow lift ever so slightly, like he wasnât expecting him to be⊠that tall. that broad. that annoyingly good-looking.
âhey,â satoru says smoothly, extending his hand. âsatoru. thanks for not jumping me right away.â
choso grins, shaking his hand, then clapping his shoulder with a kind of quiet approval. âwe only beat up assholes,â he says, and then adds, âyouâve got a solid grip, man.â suguruâs eyes flick between you and satoru, clearly amused. âyou been holding out on us,â he tells you, then turns to satoru again. âyou always look like that or is this a special occasion?â
âthis?â satoru gestures to himself, cocking a brow. âiâm barely trying.â you snort into your cup. heâs cool as hell on the outside, but you know better. his knee was bouncing a second ago and he keeps fiddling with the ring on his thumb.
âseriously though,â choso says, leaning back against the couch, sizing him up again. âdid not expect you to be built like that. what the hell do you do?â
you glance at satoru, who flashes a sheepish grin that doesnât match the cocky tilt of his voice. âfreshman year i got into boxing,â he says. âfigured if i was gonna be a nerd, might as well be one that could take a hit.â
âor give one,â choso mutters, clearly impressed. âyouâre cut.â suguru raises a brow in appreciation.
ânot anymore,â satoru says, rubbing the back of his neck. âhavenât had the time. but yeah, i trained for like, two years. gym in shibuya. coach was an ex-mma guy. real psycho, made me spar with dudes twice my size.â
âyou won?â choso asks, grinning.
âgot knocked out once,â satoru says with a shrug. âbut i broke a guyâs nose, so. fair trade.â suguru whistles, clearly amused. âyouâre full of surprises."
âoh, heâs full of a lot,â you murmur, sipping your drink again, and satoru shoots you a look thatâs somewhere between mortified and turned on.
âso you twoâŠâ suguru gestures between you vaguely, like he doesnât want to say together outright. âwhatâs the vibe?â you stretch lazily, one leg over the other, and smile. âfriends,â you say lightly. âheâs been helping me shoot some things for instagram.â
satoruâs mind flashes, vivid, bright, to the way your hand had pulled his to your waist the night before, the flash of your camera catching the outline of your lingerie, the way youâd whispered just for you in his ear as you pressed your chest to his. he can still smell your perfume on his shirt. his fingers twitch just thinking about it.
âinstagram,â suguru repeats, mouth quirking. âuh huh.â
âwe get along,â you add, and itâs almost too soft. too real. âheâs sweet.â satoru stares at the amber in his glass, willing himself not to combust. sweet. how the fuck was he supposed to keep it together when you called him sweet like that, like he was a boy you actually wanted to keep around?
choso nods slowly. âheâs got a good vibe.â suguru hums. âsolid energy. confident without being a dick.â
âyet...â choso adds, shooting him a warning glance.
satoru just laughs. âdonât worry. sheâll keep me in check.âyou lean into him slightly, your thigh brushing his. âheâs already well-trained,â you murmur, just loud enough for choso and suguru to hear. suguru lets out a low whistle. âdamn. itâs always the nerdy ones.â
âit really is,â choso agrees. âthey bottle that shit up for years and then one day just, boom. thirst trap worthy.â
âhe could literally crush a watermelon with those thighs,â you say dreamily, mostly to mess with satoru, and he almost spills his drink.
âjesus christ,â he mutters, laughing through the mortification. âyouâre gonna give these guys the wrong idea.â
âwhat idea?â choso grins. âweâre just bonding.â
âteam-building,â suguru adds.
âhazard training,â you say, with a wink. satoru shifts a little closer, brushing your arm. âyou guys always this intense?â
âyou should meet sukuna,â choso says dryly. you go still for just a second, but itâs nothing you let show. satoru feels it anyway, the way your fingers tighten slightly on your drink.
âheâs not coming tonight,â you say casually. suguru raises a brow but doesnât push. instead, he turns his attention back to satoru. âso whatâs the goal, man? you trying to get into modeling too or just vibing in the deep end?â
âi think heâs already in too deep,â choso mutters. satoru shrugs, keeping it chill even though heâs fully sweating under his hoodie. âjust hanging out. making memories. flexing for the grid.â
you laugh, leaning into his shoulder like you canât help it. âyouâre lucky youâre pretty,â you say, voice low and fond. he turns to look at you, and thereâs a flicker of something quiet in his eyes. âso are you,â he says softly. the pause that follows is short, but not empty. then suguru claps his hands. âalright. drinks?â
chosoâs already standing. âiâll grab tequila.âsatoru watches them go, the easy way they navigate the crowd, like they belong in every room they enter. and somehow, theyâd made him feel like maybe he did too. you turn to him, smiling, eyes glinting under the low lights. âsee? not so bad.â
âyeah,â satoru breathes. ânot bad at all.â
âiâm gonna go get us drinks,â you say, hand brushing satoruâs thigh as you stand. âtequila or beer?â
âuhâtequila?â he answers a bit too fast.
âthatâs what i thought.â you wink, and just like that, youâre off, hips swaying through the crowd like you own the place. maybe you do, in a way. everyone watches you go. including satoru.
once choso and suguru return the nudge his shoulder friendly.
âbro,â choso mutters, following his line of sight. âyouâre so cooked.â
âcooked?â satoru repeats, blinking.
âdone. fried. beyond saving,â suguru says, grinning. âthe way you looked at her just now? hopeless.â
âi wasnâtâi didnâtââ satoru fumbles, then groans. âfuck.â
ânah, itâs cute,â choso says, clapping him on the back. âendearing. like a golden retriever in love.â
âheâs got the hair for it,â suguru adds. satoru sighs, slouching further into the couch as if itâll swallow him. âis this what you guys do all night? just nag each other in rotation?â
âmostly,â choso says. âbut youâre new, so weâre going easy.â
âplus, youâre already getting the invite into the guy circle,â suguru adds, gesturing toward the two men approaching with solo cups in hand. âthatâs nanami and shiu.â satoru straightens instinctively. he recognizes nanami from campus, business major, intense stare, kind of always looks like heâs five minutes away from quitting everything to become a lumberjack. shiu, he doesnât know. tall, dark, lean, with eyes like heâs permanently unimpressed.
ânanami,â suguru greets, casually fist-bumping him. âshiu. this is gojo.â
âthe gojo?â shiu arches a brow, handing him a cup.
âuh,â satoru says, taking it. âi guess?â
âthe one sheâs been parading around all night like a shiny new toy,â nanami says flatly, sipping his drink. âwelcome to hell.âsatoru laughs nervously. âthanks?â
âignore him,â choso says. âthatâs just how he flirts.â nanami gives him a blank look. âno, itâs not.â
âso,â shiu says, sitting on the edge of the armrest next to him. âyou and y/n. whatâs the story?â
satoru opens his mouth. closes it. tries again. âweâre just friends.â four disbelieving stares hit him at once.
âfriends,â shiu repeats.
âsure,â choso deadpans.
âgot it,â nanami mutters.
âyou should hear how she says your name,â suguru adds. âlike itâs a little treat.â satoru flushes instantly. âwe really are just friends.â
âdo your friends usually strip for you in front of a camera?â shiu asks, sipping. âor is that a special bond?â he nearly chokes on his tequila
âjesus christ,â he wheezes. âdo you guys have, like, a hazing ritual or something?â
âyou passed it,â choso grins. âwe just needed to see if youâd fold.â
âand you did,â suguru says proudly. âfolded like a lawn chair.â
âiâm so glad i came,â satoru mutters into his cup.
âso is she,â nanami says, not looking up. âshe hasnât stopped smiling since you got here." satoru pauses.
âyeah,â choso says, more gently now. âshe likes having you around.â he doesnât know what to say to that. so he doesnât say anything. just sips and lets it sit in his chest, warm and blooming.
âby the way, donât let sukuna get to you,â shiu says after a beat, and itâs the first time the nameâs been spoken with any real weight. âi wonât,â satoru says quickly, thenââwhy would he?â
âbecause heâs an asshole,â choso says simply. "we love him and all but jeez. he's a handful."
âand because he doesnât like sharing,â suguru adds. ânot attention. not space. definitely not her.â
âwaitââ satoru frowns. âwere they a thing?â the group goes quiet. nanami speaks first. ânot officially.â
âbut?â satoru presses. shiu shrugs. âthey hooked up. on and off. nothing defined.â
âhe never claimed her,â choso says, âbut he didnât want anyone else to either.â
âtoxic,â satoru mutters.
âbingo,â suguru grins. âheâs like if a red flag started a punk band.â
âand sheâsâŠâ nanami trails off, shaking his head. âbetter than that.â satoru feels his fingers tighten around his cup. âis he here?â
ânot yet,â shiu says. âbut he might show. heâs unpredictable.â
âheâs pissed,â choso adds. âwe all saw the group chat.â satoru nods, remembering the texts he peeped over your shoulder to read. groupie. right.
âjust donât take it personally,â suguru says. âsukuna lashes out when he feels cornered. and youâre not doing anything wrong.â
âyou like her?â nanami asks suddenly. the question knocks the wind out of him. satoru blinks. âiâŠâ
'do i? yes. obviously. painfully.' he clears his throat. âsheâs cool. really cool. and smart. and funny. and like, stupidly pretty.â
âso yes,â choso says, nodding.
âand youâre what?â shiu asks. âwaiting for a sign from god?â
ânah,â suguru says. âheâs just scared.â
âiâm not scared,â satoru lies.
âyou should be,â nanami says bluntly. âsheâs a lot.â
âsheâs worth it, though,â choso adds. âif you can handle it.â
âi donât know if i can,â satoru says honestly. the four of them regard him for a moment. then suguru grins. âwell, shit. at least youâre honest.â
âmore than most guys around here,â choso agrees.
âbetter than sukuna already,â shiu mutters.
âheâs not gonna like this,â nanami warns. âyou being here. with her.â
âhe doesnât have to like it,â satoru says, surprising even himself. âitâs not his choice.â
ânow thatâs the energy,â suguru says, clinking his cup against his.
âjust donât throw the first punch,â choso says.
âunless he does,â shiu adds. âthen, by all means.â
satoru laughs, tension breaking just a little. he looks around at the group, four guys who could easily have iced him out or humiliated him, but instead welcomed him in like some weird brotherhood of unhinged protectors.
âthanks,â he says. âdonât mention it,â choso shrugs. âwe like you.â
âyou fit,â suguru says. âsomehow.â they all laugh.
they all laugh.
and thenâ
âhey.â
your voice cuts through the circle, light and bright as you reappear with a full drink in hand. satoru looks up, eyes softening instantly.
âtook forever,â you pout. âyou miss me?â
âmaybe,â he says, like itâs a secret. âa little.â
you hold the drink out to him. âyour tequila, my liege."
âyouâre too good to me,â he says, and takes it.
âi know,â you smile.
you glance around at the others. âyou boys behaving?â
â'course,â choso says.
âmhm,â you deadpan.
you settle beside satoru again, arm pressing into his, and for a second, nothing else matters.
just the music, the warmth, the way his pinky brushes yours.
just the ease of it, even in the chaos.
just the five of them, chatting and drinking and laughing like theyâd known each other longer than a single party.
just you, leaning in with a whisper meant only for him,
âtold you theyâd like you.â
and he believes it.
because for the first time in a long time, he likes himself too.
~
as the laughter from the group dies down, the tension in the air shifts, subtly but unmistakably. the door to the frat house creaks open, and itâs as if the entire room collectively inhales. gojo freezes, his attention snapping to the doorway. thereâs something about the presence that disturbs the natural flow of conversation, something sharp, something unsettling.
a shadow falls across the room as sukuna steps in, his lean form tall and imposing against the backdrop of the houseâs dimly lit interior. his eyes sweep over the crowd with the kind of disinterest that only someone as effortlessly menacing as him could pull off. his movements are deliberate, calculated, each step echoing in a way that makes the room quieter, the air heavier.
satoruâs heart skips, though his face betrays nothing. heâs heard about sukuna, of course, the chaos that follows him like a storm cloud, the way he can control a room without even trying. and now, standing in front of him, that reputation feels all too real.
âsukunaâs here,â choso says lowly, voice barely cutting through the tense air. the others shift, subtly bracing themselves, like theyâve been trained for this.
sukunaâs gaze flickers over to your group, locking onto you for a split second. the quiet hum of the party seems to die in that moment, like even the music knows to hold its breath when he enters. then, just as quickly, his attention flicks to satoru.
the tension is palpable, a crackling undercurrent of something no one dares to name. satoru meets his gaze with an unreadable expression, but inside, the nerves coil tighter. his mind races, what is it about this guy that makes everyone shift in their seats? the guyâs presence isnât just intimidating, itâs suffocating, like being in the presence of something raw and dangerous.
âwell, well,â sukunaâs voice cuts through the air like a blade, smooth and mocking. âthe nerdâs here. funny, i didnât think you were the type to be at a party like this.â his eyes twinkle with a dangerous amusement, his lips curling into a smile that could easily be mistaken for a sneer.
satoruâs first instinct is to say something snarky, to assert himself, but the weight of sukunaâs presence steals his words. he knows the others are watching, waiting for the first crack to form, the first move in this unspoken battle.
you clear your throat, cutting through the tension. âsukuna,â you greet, your voice light but firm, not giving away anything. âdidnât expect you tonight.â
sukunaâs eyes flick back to you, and for a moment, thereâs an unreadable look between you two. itâs brief, but gojo catches it, the subtle shift in the atmosphere. itâs like a silent communication between you and him that doesnât need words, a silent acknowledgment of something old and familiar.
âiâve got my reasons,â sukuna says, eyes flicking back to satoru. âbut iâm not here for small talk. just wanted to see who your latest⊠distraction is.â his gaze turns calculating. âis this the guy whoâs been making you so âartisticâ lately?â
the words hang in the air, heavy and laced with a darker implication. thereâs no mistaking it now, sukuna doesnât just find satoru an interesting figure, he finds him a threat. a challenge. and gojo can feel it, this undercurrent of possessiveness that lingers in sukunaâs words, in the sharpness of his stare.
satoruâs heart rate spikes, but he forces himself to stay calm, keep his composure. he turns toward you, offering a lazy smile, though the back of his neck prickles. âdidnât realize i was a âdistraction,ââ he says, his voice light, though thereâs an edge to it now. âbut i guess thatâs one way to describe me.â
you throw him a glance, warning in your eyes, and for a brief moment, satoru wonders if heâs being too obvious. too bold. sukuna doesnât like that, doesnât tolerate being mocked or even challenged, and the dangerous aura around him grows thicker the longer the interaction stretches.
sukuna narrows his eyes, a smirk curling at the corner of his lips. âoh, donât get cute with me,â he warns, his voice smooth but laced with venom. he steps closer, his presence crowding the space. âyou donât belong here, pretty boy. you mightâve fooled some of them, but i can smell a pretender from a mile away.â
satoruâs jaw clenches, but he keeps his face cool, chin tilted just enough to show heâs not intimidated. âyouâve got a lot to say for someone who doesnât even know me,â he retorts, voice dropping a little lower.
the tension in the air thickens. suguru and choso exchange a look, both noticing the way things are escalating. shiu, standing a few feet away, flicks his eyes over to you, trying to gauge your reaction.
you step in before things can spiral any further. âsukuna,â you say firmly, your voice sharper than before. âcan we not do this here? this is not the time or place.â
sukuna gives you a look, something between admiration and disdain. his gaze flicks back to satoru, but this time, thereâs something darker in his eyes. âwhatever you say, princess,â he murmurs, his tone low and dangerous. âbut this one? heâs not what you think he is.â
with that, he turns and makes his way deeper into the party, his presence still lingering like a shadow over the group. the atmosphere remains thick, the tension hanging in the air like smoke from a fire that hasnât quite burned out.
satoru takes a slow breath, trying to shake off the lingering unease that sukunaâs words have left behind. he glances over at you, whoâs still standing a little too still, eyes locked on the space sukuna just vacated.
âis he always like that?â satoru asks, his voice low, though thereâs no denying the edge of concern there.
you let out a long sigh, turning to face him fully. âyeah,â you say softly, almost apologetically. âsukunaâs a⊠complicated person.â
âi can tell,â satoru mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. his earlier confidence is slipping, replaced by a twinge of doubt. he thought he could handle this crowd, but sukuna⊠sukuna was something else entirely.
âyou donât have to worry about him,â you say, your voice softer now. you place a reassuring hand on his arm, and for a brief moment, the world feels a little less heavy. âhe just has a way of⊠testing people. seeing how much they can take.â
satoru lets out a breath, looking at you. thereâs something about the way you say it, like youâve seen this play out before, over and over again. something in his gut tightens at the thought.
but he nods, forcing a smile. âi can take it,â he says, though his voice is steadier than he feels. âbut iâm guessing sukunaâs not gonna be my biggest fan, huh?â
you smile, though it doesnât quite reach your eyes. âheâll get over it,â you say, but thereâs a strange bitterness in your tone. âhe always does.â
satoru watches you, trying to read the unspoken words in your gaze. thereâs a history there, a tension between you and sukuna thatâs thicker than whatâs on the surface.
heâs not sure how deep it goes, but something tells him that tonight was only the beginning.
the rest of the night stretches out before them, full of promises of fun and tension, of friendships and unspoken rivalries. but for now, satoru is left with the quiet certainty that his place in this world, your world, is still uncertain. and sukuna? heâs just the first of many obstacles that stand between him and whatever this is with you.
but heâs not backing down. not now. not ever. he was going to have you, even if that meant knocking sukuna around abit.
part two out! đ©ââ€ïžâđâđ©
#gojo fluff#gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo satoru#gojou satoru x reader#gojo x y/n#jjk gojo#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#gojo college au#sukuna frat#sukuna x y/n#sukuna x you#sukuna x reader#sukuna smut#gojo smut#jjk smut#smut#ryomen sukuna#sukuna#jujutsu satoru#satoru gojo x reader#nerd gojo#nerdjo#gojo x reader fluff#jujutsu gojo#geto suguru#jjk ryomen#jjk choso
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backshots with reo âĄ
you wore it just for him. reoâs jersey â oversized, clinging to your body in all the right ways, his name bold and proud across your back. the moment he spotted you in the crowd, front row, cheering for him, he knew exactly how tonight was ending. after his win, he dragged you into the locker room, backing you up against the lockers, grabbing your face and kissing you sloppily, groaning like heâs already imagining what heâs going to do to you.
telling you to turn around, you obey, arching as you press your hands against the cool metal.
he pulls your bottoms down, pushing your thighs apart as he stares like a man possessed before he starts thumbing at your folds. youâre already soaking, practically dripping, so reo undoes his shorts just enough to free his cock thatâs already throbbing.
âhold still, baby. gotta see my name bounce while i fuck you.â
one quick thrust and heâs buried inside you, thick, pulsing, and stretching you open so perfectly you almost sob. he grips your hips tightly â his pace fast and ruthless, with the sound of skin against skin echoing off the walls as his balls slap against your ass repeatedly.
you whine as every thrust sends ripples through your body, âfeels so goodâso full, i canâtââ
âgod, gorgeous,â he pants, the sound of your moans making his rhythm falter for a second. âyouâre unreal, wearing my name, bending over for me like this. so fucking tight, baby.â
your pussy flutters around him so much with all the praise he spills into the air. his hand smooths over your waist, then up your spine gently. heâs soft, but still so smug. he canât stop staring at the jersey youâre wearing, the one that has his name and number printed right on it, like a banner claiming you.
âthis is what i get for winning, huh?â reo grins from behind you. âyou in my jersey, taking me so well.â
yeah, what a nice reward!
for this req
#blue lock#blue lock x reader#blue lock smut#bllk x reader#bllk smut#reo x reader#reo smut#reo mikage x reader#reo mikage smut#mikage reo x reader#mikage reo smut#reo mikage x y/n#reo mikage x you#mikage reo x y/n#mikage reo x you#reo x you#reo x y/n#blue lock reo#bllk reo#reo mikage#mikage reo#bllk#blue lock x reader smut#blue lock x y/n#blue lock x you#bllk x reader smut#bllk x y/n#bllk x you
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i have been loving everything you're writing :D can i request sunghoon who secretly records himself fucking Y/N and sending it to heeseung after he found out heeseung tried to hit on her?
so iâve seen this alr in a fic, very similar to the way you described it so i did it differently, hope you still like it tho :))
THE CALL.á



pairing á°.á park sunghoon x reader ft. heeseung
warnings á°.á unprotected sex, rough hoon, etc.
nattyâs notes á°.á mdni, hate comments will be deleted.
you never expected to find yourself in this situationânot like this.
it caught you completely off guard, leaving a sinking feeling in your stomach as you processed what had just happened. of all people, heeseung. the one who had always been there, the one who knew exactly where your heart belonged. yet here he was, toeing a line he had no business crossing, his words dripping with something that made your skin prickle with unease.
your pulse quickened, tension settling heavy in the air between you. his gaze was steady, unwavering, as if he was waiting for you to give in, to entertain whatever this was.
but you wouldnât. you couldnât.
your breath came out slow and measured as you straightened your shoulders, voice firm despite the slight tremor of disbelief still lingering within you.
âiâm not interested, heeseung.â
the words felt heavy, final.
his lips curled at the edges, an unreadable expression flickering across his face, but he didnât move, didnât step back.
you took a step instead, creating space between you, a silent boundary drawn in the tension-filled room.
âi think itâs best if you just leave it at that.â
your voice was softer now, but no less certain.
because thisâwhatever this wasâcouldnât happen. wouldnât happen.
not when your heart already belonged to someone else.
he left after that.
no further words, no last attempt to push the boundariesâjust a lingering look before he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, your mind in turmoil.
but just because he was gone didnât mean the weight of what had happened left with him.
your thoughts were racing, looping the moment over and over in your head, dissecting every detail.
should you tell sunghoon?
the question gnawed at you, settling deep in your chest.
you didnât know how heâd react. would he be upset? angry? would he confront heeseung, or would it create unnecessary tension between them? between all of you?
the uncertainty made your stomach twist.
so you decided to stay silent.
the day stretched on, but you were too caught up in your thoughts to fully process it. the hours blurred together, your mind distant, replaying everything until it all felt unreal, like maybe it had never even happened in the first place.
but the moment sunghoon walked through the door, reality snapped back into place.
he wasnât as talkative today, but that wasnât unusual. you were both naturally quiet, better at speaking through gestures and touches rather than words.
you watched as he set his things down, his posture relaxed, but something about him seemed⊠off.
still, you smiled, pushing aside the lingering unease as you made your way toward him.
âhoonieâŠâ
your voice was soft, affectionate, as you reached for him, your fingers brushing against his.
but as his dark eyes met yours, something about his gaze made your heart stutter.
he knew.
you bit your lip, the weight of his stare pressing down on you like a storm about to break. your hands felt clammy, a nervous sweat forming at your palms, but stillâhe didnât speak.
his dark gaze burned into you, unreadable, suffocating.
your breath hitched as tension crackled between you, thick and suffocating. you wanted to say somethingâanythingâbut before you could part your lips, he moved.
his hands were on you in an instant, gripping your face with a force that sent a shiver through your spine.
and then, he kissed you.
aggressive. hungry. possessive.
his lips devoured yours, his movements unrelenting as he pushed you back, his grip firm as he guided you toward your shared bedroom.
you stumbled slightly, but he didnât let up.
his body pressed against yours, heat radiating from him, his breath heavy as his fingers tangled in your hair, pulling, tilting your head just right so he could deepen the kiss.
his tongue slipped past your parted lips, claiming every inch, swallowing every soft whimper that escaped you.
your mind spun, the air growing hotter, your body burning under his touch.
his hands moved fastâtoo fastâfumbling with the fabric of your clothes, dragging them away from your body, his touch rough, desperate.
your shirt was the first to go, discarded carelessly onto the floor.
then your pantsâhis fingers making quick work of the waistband, yanking them down in one swift motion.
your breath came out in short, uneven gasps as his lips trailed down, kissing, biting, marking as he went.
âhoonââ
your voice broke between gasps, your fingers clutching at his hoodie, grasping for somethingâanythingâto ground yourself.
but he wasnât stopping.
he wasnât slowing down.
whatever had settled behind those dark eyes of hisâit was consuming him.
and tonight, he was going to make sure you knew exactly who you belonged to.
he pushed you down onto the bed, the sudden force of it knocking the breath from your lungs. his hands moved fast, desperate, yanking at his hoodie, his shirtâany barrier that separated his skin from yours.
but even as he fumbled with his clothes, his lips never left you.
hot, open-mouthed kisses trailed down your body, his teeth grazing, his tongue soothing over the marks he was claiming as his.
the bruises he was leaving behind burned against your skin, each one searing, possessive.
he was never like this. never this rough, never this desperate, never this ravenous.
but you couldnât stop him.
you didnât want to stop him.
it was intoxicatingâthe way he handled you, the way his breath came out ragged, the way his fingers gripped your hips so tightly it made your head spin.
a shudder ran through you as his lips moved lower, ghosting over your stomach, his hands gripping the waistband of your panties.
before you could even process it, he ripped them down, tossing them somewhere behind him without care.
your breath hitched, your thighs instinctively trying to close, but his hands were already there, spreading you apart, holding you open for him.
his gaze flickered up to meet yours, his dark eyes burning.
and thenâhe dove in.
his mouth was on you in an instant, his tongue licking a bold, deliberate stripe through your folds before latching onto your clit, sucking with a hunger that made your entire body jerk.
a strangled moan tore from your throat, your back arching off the bed.
âfuck, sunghoon!â
but he didnât stop.
he groaned against your heat, the vibrations shooting through you, sending sparks of pleasure up your spine.
his fingers dug into your thighs, keeping you pinned, keeping you exactly where he wanted you as his tongue worked you over, relentless, unforgiving.
his nose brushed against your swollen clit as he licked deeper, tasting, savoring every inch of you like a man starved.
your fingers shot down, tangling in his hair, pullingâpushing.
you didnât know if you wanted him to stop or if you needed more.
he couldnât wait any longer.
he had been holding back, barely reining himself in, but his patience had snapped.
tonight wasnât just about taking youâit was about proving a point. and he was going to do it fast, hard, and without a single fucking ounce of hesitation.
his hand wrapped around his cock, pumping himself with rough, desperate strokes. the slick sounds of his precum-coated length filled the air, mixing with his ragged breathing, soft groans slipping from his lips as he worked himself up.
but his other hand was already movingâreaching for his phone.
his fingers moved quickly, unlocking it in an instant, scrolling through his contacts until he found the one.
his grip tightened around his cock, his hips jerking slightly into his own touch as he pressed the call button.
his free hand dropped, the phone held steady at just the right angleâhigh enough that whoever was on the other end would get a perfect view of you.
your body, laid out beneath him.
your legs spread.
your soaked folds glistening, waiting for him.
he needed them to see this.
to watch.
to understand.
he lined himself up, his cock tracing a slow, teasing path along your folds, dragging against your wetness, coating himself in you.
your body tensed, a soft whimper escaping your lips, but you were too lost in the moment, too consumed by the overwhelming anticipation to even notice what he was doing.
but thenâthe call picked up.
a soft, almost confused, âhello?â crackled through the speaker.
and at that very secondâhe slammed into you.
your gasp turned into a cry, your body arching, your nails digging into the sheets as he bottomed out in one deep, punishing thrust.
his grip on his phone never wavered, his dark eyes flickering between the screen and the way your body clenched around him.
and thenâhis lips curled into a smirk, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he finally spoke.
âwatch this.â
heeseung stood there, frozen, his breath caught in his throat as he watched the scene unfold before him.
his eyes were wide, his jaw locked tight, but he didnât move. he couldnât.
because sunghoon wasnât stopping.
wasnât slowing down.
if anything, he was only getting rougher.
his grip on your waist was bruising, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he slammed into you, his thrusts hard, relentless, punishing.
his free hand left your hip, trailing downward with purpose, with intent.
thenâa sharp, stinging slap landed against your soaked pussy, making your body jolt, a strangled moan tearing from your throat as the sensation sent a jolt of pleasure straight through your spine.
âyou thought i wouldnât fucking find out?â sunghoon growled, his voice thick with something darkâsomething possessive, something deadly.
heeseung sucked in a sharp breath, his fists clenching at his sides, his face unreadable as he kept his gaze locked onto yours.
but sunghoon wasnât done.
his grip on your jaw was sudden, forcing you to turn your head, forcing you to look at him, his dark eyes burning into yours.
his lips curled into something dangerous as his pace snapped, his hips rolling into you harder, deeper, making you sob, your nails clawing at the sheets beneath you.
âyouâre a fucking bitch tryna hit on my girl,â he spat, his words laced with venom, his hand coming down on your pussy again, making you jerk, making you feel every single inch of him.
heeseungâs jaw twitched, his breathing uneven, but he didnât dare move.
not when sunghoon was looking at him like that.
not when he was making a fucking statement.
because this? this wasnât just about fucking you. this was about claiming you. and sunghoon was making sure heeseung understoodâyou belonged to him.
âwho owns this pussy, baby?â sunghoon growled, his voice rough, breath ragged as he drove himself into you over and over, each thrust harder, deeper, making your body jolt with every brutal snap of his hips.
his fingers never stoppedânever slowedâas they worked furiously against your swollen clit, circling it with aggressive, relentless strokes.
you could barely breathe.
your body was on fire, the heat of his touch sending violent shudders through you, your walls clenching around him so tightly he let out a guttural moan.
his free hand gripped your waist with bruising force, anchoring you in place, keeping you exactly where he wanted youâhelpless, ruined, completely at his mercy.
the pleasure was too much.
your thighs trembled, your body tightening, the familiar heat in your stomach coiling so tight you thought you might snap at any second.
âsunghoonâfuck, iââ
your words were broken, slurred between desperate moans, your nails digging into his arms, clinging onto him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded.
but he wasnât stopping.
he wasnât letting you catch your breath.
his pace only snapped, his cock dragging against your sensitive walls with each unforgiving thrust, hitting that spot that made your vision blur.
âtell me,â he growled, his hand suddenly slapping your clit, making you scream, your back arching, pleasure shooting through you like lightning.
âwho. owns. this. pussy?â
his words were punctuated by sharp, punishing thrusts, each one knocking the air from your lungs, forcing the answer from your lips before you even had time to think.
âyou!â you sobbed, your body convulsing beneath him, tears spilling from the intensity of it all. âfuckâsunghoon!â
his grip on your thigh tightened, his fingers grinding against your overstimulated clit as he drove himself into you, chasing your orgasm, pushing you to the very edge.
âthatâs right, baby,â he groaned, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice thick with possession.
âthis pussy belongs to me.â
and with one final, devastating thrustâhe sent you crashing over the edge.
your orgasm tore through you with an intensity that left you completely shattered.
your body convulsed beneath him, your thighs trembling violently as your back arched off the bed, your vision blurring with the overwhelming pleasure that surged through your veins.
your walls clenched down hard around nothing, the emptiness almost unbearable as your entire body pulsed with aftershocks, your breath coming out in ragged, broken gasps.
you felt lightheaded, floating, completely lost in the lingering haze of euphoriaâyour mind too clouded to focus, your body too weak to move.
sunghoon pulled out abruptly, leaving you dripping, ruined, your slick coating your inner thighs as he fisted his cock, stroking himself at a ruthless pace.
his breath was heavy, uneven, his grip tight as he worked himself closer, his eyes fixed on youâyour wrecked state, your flushed skin, the way your body still twitched from the overstimulation.
âfuckââ he groaned, his brows furrowing, his abs tightening as the heat in his stomach snapped.
his cock twitched violently in his hand, hot ropes of cum shot out, splattering across your face, coating your flushed cheeks, your parted lips, marking you completely.
the warmth of it, the sheer filthiness of it made your thighs clench instinctively, a soft whimper escaping your lips as you tried to catch your breath.
sunghoon let out a shuddered exhale, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he came down from his high.
his dark gaze flickered toward his phone, his grip tightening around the device as he angled it lower, making sure every inch of your cum-covered face was perfectly captured on the screen.
he shifted slightly, tilting his head, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip as his eyes flickered up to the screenâto heeseung.
frozen.
silent.
his expression unreadable, his lips slightly parted, his breathing barely noticeable as he stared at the image before him.
sunghoon smirked.
he lifted the phone higher, angling it just right so heeseung had no choice but to take in all of itâyour wrecked body, your heaving chest, your face completely painted in him.
his voice was low, dripping with possession as he spoke, his words slow, deliberate, final.
âsheâs mine, fucker.â his smirk widened as heeseungâs jaw tensed, his fingers twitching at his sides.
sunghoon chuckled darkly, his thumb hovering over the screen.
âyouâll never have her like this.â
and with that, he ended the call.
nattyâs notes á°.á hoped you enjoyed!!
#enha smut#enha x reader#enhypen#enhypen x reader#enha#enhypen smut#park sunghoon#enhypen sunghoon#sunghoon x reader#sunghoon smut#lee heeseung#heeseung#enha fics#enha imagines
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will Joel live up to this promise from my last ask about thigh-riding?
ânext time, youâre gonna ride my cock insteadâ
your writing is just so YUM! I fear I need reader taking what she needs from Joel ;)
ââââÛ¶à§ you promised
joel finally makes good on his promise
warnings: smut, cock riding, dirty talk, soft dom/sub vibes, overstimulation, mutual desperation.
áá âą a/n: ânext time, youâre gonna ride my cock instead.â well⊠he does. and you take it. thank you for the delicious inspo and the sweet wordsâyour ask had me feral. hope you enjoy
more
áàŒá«
youâre already naked when you crawl into his lap.
joelâs shirtâs off, jeans pushed down just enough, cock heavy against his stomachâand heâs looking at you like youâve knocked the fuckinâ wind out of him. hands twitching like he wants to grab you, but heâs waiting. letting you have it.
âshit,â he mutters when you wrap a hand round the base, dragging the tip through your soaked folds, tapping it against your clit just to tease. âyouâre reallyâfuckinâ hellâgonna ride me, yeah?â
you nod, already breathless.
âyou promised,â you say, quiet, but firm. âsaid next time iâd ride your cock. iâm takinâ it now.â
he groans, deep and wrecked, hands coming up to grip your hipsâbut not guiding, just there. you sink down slow, whining at the stretch, at how full he is, cock thick and hot inside you, and joelâs cursing under his breath like a man possessed.
âjesus fuckinâ christ,â he breathes, eyes flicking down to where youâre stuffed full. âyouâre so bloody tightâfeels unreal, baby.â
you move in slow, grinding circles, your pace lazy, like youâve got all the time in the world to ruin him. slick sounds fill the room, your cunt dripping down his cock, making a mess of his lapâand joel looks ruined already, head tipped back, chest rising and falling like heâs trying not to lose it.
âthatâs it,â he pants. âtake itâtake what you need. fuckinâ starvinâ for it, arenât you?â
you moan, thighs shaking, clit catching just right every time you roll your hips. your hands are braced on his chest, fingers digging in for balance, but youâre still the one in control, using him, chasing your high.
âjoel,â you gasp, âgonnaâfuck, mâgonna cumââ
he bucks his hips once, hard and deep, and thatâs all it takesâyour orgasm crashes over you, sharp and hot, cunt clenching tight round him, body twitching as you grind through it. joel groans like youâve knocked the air out of his lungs, grabs your arse and thrusts up once more before heâs spilling inside you, warm and thick.
you slump against him, both of you panting, bodies slick with sweat.
joelâs arms wrap round you, voice rough in your ear.
âyou did so fuckinâ good, sweetheart,â he murmurs, mouth pressed to your temple. âneed a minute⊠then iâm flippinâ you over and fuckinâ you proper.â
áàŒá«
thank you for reading. reblogs & feedback appreciated.
#đą'đš đđ€đȘđ§đđđ§ đ©đđ€đȘđđđ©đš .á>áŽ<#âËÊ mary's works#joelswhcre#joel miller x reader#joel miller#joel x reader#joel x y/n#joel miller x you#joel miller smut#joel smut#joelxreader#joel#joel x you#tlou#the last of us#the last of us smut#joel tlou#Joel miller x you#Joel miller x reader#Joel miller smut#Jackson!Joel#Pedro pascal
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are you hearing things? certainly, an intruder didnât break into your house just to clean up the mess youâd left behind this morning and cook your favorite dish, did they? noâŠunless this intruder was really, really nice and somehow knew you inside out.
but then it hits you.
caleb.
that's the only thought in your head as you rush over to the kitchen, stopping in the middle as you see your husband in a fucking apron, cutting up vegetables on the kitchen counter.
he looks up as soon as he hears your footsteps stop, a big, satisfied smirk on his face. yet despite the smugness, his expression is tender, displaying a love that makes your chest tighten with familiarity. before either of you can say a word, you rush over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and immediately melt into his touch.
he's warm, and most of all, real. in your arms. no words are saidâthey're not even needed as he returns your embrace, nuzzling his face into your hair and pressing you to him like a long-lost piece of himself finally returned. you sink into the quiet gravity of his hold, the space between you dissolving as you breathe in each other's presence. time feels like it's folding in on itselfâonly the steady rise and fall of his breath tethering you to the moment, to him, to home.
you decide to break the silence, your hands gripping tighter on his clothes, voice muffled by your face in the crook of his neck. "caleb. youâre early. youâre- you're here." the words are slightly cracked, tinted with a quiet desperation and disbelief that has your heart pounding in your chest, still processing what was happening.
caleb only holds you closer, his voice thick with similar emotions. "'course i am, honey. wouldn't trade this for the world." he presses a soft kiss to your head, his hands gently running down your sides and stopping at your waist. he pulls away to look you in the eyes, his gaze filled with something so soft you could almost feel it in your hands. "the expedition ended early. i got home as soon as i could to surprise you."
your eyes drift up and down his face, his neck, any piece of him available to youâyou drink it in, relishing in the man before you like a traveler would an oasis in the desert. you swallow, throat thick with longing as you struggle to say another full sentence.
but it doesn't matter, not when he knows exactly what you want to say. your emotions are written on your face, woven into every action, and even without words, caleb can feel it in the space between you, his heart long since in tune with yours.
taking a deep breath, you manage to speak, sniffling. "i was- i was counting down the days. i thought you wouldn't be home for at least a few more weeks-"
caleb only grins softly, tenderly slipping his hand beneath your shirt to feel your skin on his. "you know me, honey. i can't just stay away from you." he punctuates his words with a soft caress up your back, tracing your spine and sending a shiver through your body. it grounds you, his actions and affections so familiar and yet so unreal in the moment.
a small laugh manages to bubble from your lips, relieved and stupefied. you pull him in again, feeling his heartbeat against yours. he's here. all of him.
and suddenly, the exhaustion of the past few weeks, the impatience, the longing, the lonelinessâit all fades away, and you're left with something that is so unmistakably home, because you're in his arms.
he lets out a relieved sigh of his own, chuckling slightly and shifting his body to better accommodate yours. in doing so, you're pulled away from him just slightly, the glint of something floating in the air catching your eye. your brows furrow together as the object catches your interest, peeking out at it from above caleb's arms.
a knife.
a floating knife.
you blink. your mind is still catching up with everything, but the sight of a knife hovering a few steps away from youâcompletely still, suspended in midairâpulls you out of your processing period. your brows furrow even further, your head stiffly moving to look up at your husband.
"caleb...?" as of that moment, his tender gaze had turned into a suppressed grin, his eyes twinkling with that mischievous glint you knew so well. his hands squeeze your sides, voice teasing and lilted. "'sup, honeybunch? still need proof it's really me?"
your eyes flick between the knife and him, your voice slow and hesitant. "caleb, why is there a knife next to us right now?"
he laughs, and it's a warm sound that dissipates any tension in your body, a small smile pulling up at your lips despite the confusion. he leans in with a smirk, shrugging and ruffling your hair as if itâs the most casual thing in the world. "i don't know baby, you were pretty eager to get me in your arms. didn't stop to think twice that i was cutting up some veggies."
your face flushes as you process that he had only used his evol to move the knife he was holding away from the both of you. "...oh," is all you manage to squeak out as he laughs again, gently tugging on your hair to tilt your head upwards and to land a kiss on your forehead.
caleb smirks, his own gaze flickering between the knife and you, "someone had to make sure you didnât end up with a gash on your hand while trying to tackle me."
you shake your head, still smiling and now slightly flushed due to his actions. "sorry, it was all just..." he cuts you off with a finger to your lips, grinning at the cute sight of your face. "there's no need for an apology, honey. i'm just doing my job as your husband."
he steps forward, the knife gently floating back down onto the counter with a soft clink as he places his hand beneath your chin. "our kitchen is quite the dangerous place, you know."
the playful edge in his voice and the cheeky grin on his face make you laugh, a soft, breathless sound that feels lighter than it has in weeks. you shake your head, amusement dancing in your eyes as you finally take in your surroundingsâthe seasoned chicken resting in the bowl, the steam curling from the bubbling pot of your favorite broth on the stove, and most of all, the warm, inviting scent of home.
it isn't just the food or the careful way heâs prepared everything for you. itâs him, standing there, grounding you in a moment that feels almost too good to be real. the weight of missing him lingers faintly in your chest, but itâs lightened by the fact that, for the first time in weeks, heâs here.
caleb's eyes wash over you with amusement, his head tilting as his thumb caresses your cheek before gently pressing into your skin, affectionately squeezing your face. "you okay there, pips? looks like you're about to start crying over dinner."
his teasing lingers for only a second before something shifts. his touch, once playful, turns softerâmore deliberate. his hands come up to cradle your face fully, his warmth seeping into your skin. it's only then that you realize why his expression has changed.
you were crying.
warm, salty tears are trickling down your face as you try to deny your current state, your lips trembling as you let out a shaky laugh. "ah, iâm-," you start off, but the crack in your voice betrays you. you sniffle, swiping at your face, affection and frustration mixing in your expression. "itâs not-â
but caleb just smiles, thumbs brushing away the tears before they can fall any further. "i know," he murmurs, voice as warm as his touch. "i know, baby."
caleb doesnât say anything elseâhe doesnât need to. instead, he pulls you in, pressing his lips gently to your forehead, letting them linger there for a few precious moments. his touch is grounding, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you let yourself lean into it completely.
his fingers stroke along your back in soothing circles, a silent reassurance that heâs real, that heâs with you. and you believe it. because how could you not, when his presence feels like the most tangible thing in the world?
after a few quiet breaths, he pulls away just enough to meet your gaze again, studying your face with something soft and knowing. âfeeling a little better?â
you sniffle, nodding as you wipe at your eyes again. âyeah. just⊠didnât expect this.â
he grins, his thumb grazing over your cheekbone one last time before he finally steps back, hands slipping down to rest at your waist. âwell, i was hoping for a âwow, my incredibly handsome husband is the best for surprising me like this!â but i guess tears of joy work too.â
you roll your eyes, though thereâs no real annoyance behind it. âif you wanted me to swoon, you shouldâve walked in with flowers, colonel.â
caleb lets out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head. âdamn, shouldâve known i was dealing with high standards.â
âvery high,â you confirm, the ghost of a smile tugging at your lips.
he huffs out a laugh before squeezing your waist one last time and turning back to the counter. âcmon, pips. go set the table before you start crying again.â
you mumble sarcastically but oblige, pulling out the plates and utensils while he goes back to cooking. the kitchen is quiet save for the soft sounds of bubbling broth and the rhythmic chop of his knife against the cutting board.
itâs a comfortable kind of quietâthe kind that settles lovingly in your ribs, wrapping around your heart like the warmest embrace.
and when you finally sit down for dinner, across from the man who makes your world feel so much brighter just by being in it, you realize that no matter how long heâs gone, no matter how much you miss him, this moment will always come back to you.
because caleb always comes back to you.
#ౚৠm's fics! âËà·#I genuinely cant stop thinking about him calling us âhoney"#like its so sweet and playful and ughhhh where is my ring#caleb is a mirror of me and i am a mirror of him LET ME FUSE WITH THIS MAN PLEAAAASE#caleb x reader#caleb x you#love and deepspace caleb#lads caleb#caleb fluff#caleb lads#my first non-nsfw piece ;DD though i maybe have a pt2 with reunion sex in mind LOL#guys calebmc marriage is my second dream marriage#first is zayne. okay sorry caleb i love you but you cant take that spot.....
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in which the next chapter begins
new york city hums like it knows whatâs about to happen. thereâs a kind of electricity in the air, thick with promise and nerves, and as your driver weaves through the busy streets, you watch paige take it all in from the backseatâher face turned to the window, hood pulled over her head, hand clasped tightly in yours.
âthis doesnât feel real,â she murmurs, eyes wide as they track the towering buildings, the people, the energy. âlike, iâm actually here.â
you squeeze her hand. âyouâre not dreaming, bueckers.â
she smirks, still dazed. âyou sure? 'cause being in new york with you, about to get drafted number one⊠i mustâve done something right.â
you look at herâat the soft awe in her voice, the nerves sheâs trying to hideâand smile. âyou earned all of this.â
she leans over and kisses the back of your hand. âwouldnât be here without you.â
the hotel lobby smells like roses and money. a few of the other top picks are checking in, media reps scattered around, coaches from various teams exchanging polite nods. paige walks in with her backpack slung over one shoulder like sheâs still in college, but sheâs greeted like a queen.
people look at you tooâcurious, trying to place you. her plus one, but not a public one. not yet.
upstairs, the suite is stunning. floor-to-ceiling windows, champagne already chilling in a silver bucket on the table, and a view of manhattan that would knock the breath out of anyone.
paige walks straight to the window. âgod,â she whispers. âhow am i supposed to sleep tonight?â
you wrap your arms around her from behind. âyou wonât. and thatâs okay.â
the next few days are a whirlwind of cameras and flashing lights, pre-draft interviews, and moments stolen in between where paige clings to you like youâre the only thing keeping her grounded.
you walk with her to early press calls, watch her shake hands with executives and talk to reporters with the perfect balance of humility and fire. she rides up the empire state building in an elevator full of pr staff, but she only holds your hand. at the top, she stands by the glass and whispers, âfeels like the whole worldâs watching.â
âthey are,â you say, brushing your fingers against hers. âand theyâre about to see what happens when a star rises.â
the suite becomes a glam studio before the sun even rises. stylists, makeup artists, wardrobe specialistsâall bustling around paige while she sits in the middle of it all, cross-legged in a robe, sipping coffee like she isnât about to have her life change forever.
her stylist calls you over as youâre about to change into the outfit you packed.
âactually,â she says, holding up a garment bag. âthis is for you.â
you blink. âthatâs not mine.â
âit is now. paige picked it out. said it had to be perfect.â
your chest tightens as you unzip the bag, revealing a dress so perfectly you, it feels unreal. the fabric is soft, expensive, and the colorâsomething muted and romanticâbrings out your features in a way you didnât even know was possible.
âshe did this?â you whisper.
âshe wanted you to feel special today too.â
you change in the bathroom, hands shaking slightly. when you finally step out, paige is standing near the window, fully dressed in a glittery-dark colored custom suit that has her shimmering with every step, her curls falling effortlessly over her shoulders.
she turnsâand everything slows.
her mouth parts. âholy... you lookâŠâ
you laugh, flushed. âyou too. you clean up alright, bueckers.â
she walks up to you, cups your jaw gently. âyouâre unreal. thank you for being here today.â
âthereâs nowhere else iâd be.â
the red carpet outside the venue is chaosâreporters, photographers, wnba legends, fans with signs, people shouting paigeâs name like itâs already etched into history.
you try to stay a step behind her, to let her soak in her spotlight, but she wonât have it. her hand wraps around your waist and stays there. through the cameras, the chaos, the interviewsâshe keeps you close.
youâre standing just off to the side when the espn interviewer waves paige over for a quick one-on-one. the camera is rolling, and you make a move to step back, but paige pulls you forward by the hand.
the interviewer smiles knowingly. âpaige bueckers! big night. how are we feeling?â
paige smiles back, calm and radiant. âexcited. grateful. nervous. all of it.â
âyouâre projected to go number one overallâdoes that add pressure?â
âa little,â she admits. âbut i try to block it out. iâm here to soak it in and be present.â
the interviewer nods, glancing at you briefly. âand youâve got some company tonight. can we ask who your date is?â
paige glances your way, and you feel her fingers squeeze yours.
âsheâs someone very special to me,â paige says, voice even but warm. âweâre here to celebrate the moment. thatâs what tonightâs about.â
âso⊠are you confirming youâre in a relationship?â
she chuckles, not flustered at all. âiâm confirming that iâm not doing tonight alone. thatâs all you get.â
âalright, alright,â the interviewer laughs. âweâll take it.â
twitter explodes five seconds later.
inside the venue, the lights dim and the countdown begins. you sit beside paige, her hand still wrapped in yours like a lifeline. her leg bounces. her breath hitches every time someone coughs into a mic.
âpaige,â you whisper, turning to her. âhey. breathe.â
she nods, but doesnât look at you. her eyes are on the stage.
âwhether you go first or fifth,â you murmur, pressing your forehead to hers, âyouâre still the most incredible person in this room. and iâll be just as proud no matter what.â
her eyes flutter closed. she exhales.
âpromise?â she whispers.
âpromise.â
then the lights shift. the wnba commissioner walks to the podium. the music swells.
âwith the first pick in the 2024 wnba draft, the dallas wings select⊠paige bueckers, university of connecticut.â
the room erupts.
paige turns to youâeyes wide, heart on her sleeveâand she kisses you.
right there. full, gentle, and certain.
the room falls silent for a heartbeat, and then explodes again.
@/espnw: sheâs the number one pick. she also just kissed her girl on live tv. paige bueckers is here.
@/wnba: #1 pick. #1 moment. paige bueckers delivers the most unforgettable draft night kiss of all time.
@/bleacherreport: paige bueckers. first pick. first public kiss. iconic.
@/gaysportsnerd: so like⊠when do we get the engagement photos?
@/dallaswings: welcome to dallas, @/paigebueckers!
@/overtime: not just #1 on the court. paige bueckers just dropped the most iconic draft night moment of all time.
@/chennedyfan99: paige bueckers said âiâm number one and iâm in love, what about it?â
later, after the cheers settles and the cameras stop flashing, paige wraps her arms around you on the balcony of the hotel suite. new york glows behind you, and she leans her head on your shoulder.
âi didnât plan the kiss,â she says softly.
âi know.â
âbut i meant it.â
âi know.â
she turns her face to yours, brushing your cheek with her nose. âi want to be number one in everything. including with you.â
âyou already are,â you whisper. âyou always have been.â
she smiles, soft and golden. âforever, huh?â
âhell yeah.â
#paige bueckers#paige bueckers x reader#uconn womenâs basketball#lesbian#wlw#uconn wbb#ucon wbb#paige buckets#paige x reader#wuh luh wuh#wnba x reader#wbb x reader#wbb imagine#dallas wings
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dear me | 04
lawyer! jungkook x privatechef! reader
SUMMARY: Once upon a time, Jungkook and you were everything. Best friends who shared every moment, every secretâexcept one: you were in love with him. But life changed. High school ended, real life began, and slowly, you drifted apart, the distance between you growing too wide to cross.
The end. Except it isn't.
One day, after a long day at work, you open your email to find a message from 13 years agoâwritten by your younger self. A letter youâd forgotten, sent by a service you paid to remind you of your youth, your love for him. As the emails keep on coming and you keep reading, the flood of memories hits you, and you realize something heartbreaking: you never stopped loving him.
But now, itâs too late. Jungkook is about to marry someone else. Or is he?
estranged childhood best friends-to-friends-to-lovers?
TRIGGER WARNINGS (for this chapter): anxiety, guilt, discomfort, emotional distress, self-sabotage, past trauma, relationship tension, self-doubt, jealousy, awkwardness, manipulation, abandonment, social anxiety
comment HERE for Dear Me taglist;
SERIES M.LIST;
â previous chapter // next chapter
wc: 6,4k // date: 28th of March 2025
CHAPTER FOUR â The House; happy reading my gummies...
AN: hey hey hey!!! okay, so, like, i am OBSESSED with this chapter. like, truly. i love it SO MUCH and i really hope you all love it too because iâm freaking out over here!!
now, listen up, iâm setting a NOTE GOAL for this chapterâ250 notes because YOU GUYS LITERALLY SMASHED THE LAST ONE IN 2 DAYS and thatâs just like... UNREAL! i'm over here losing my mind. i canât even. you guys are LEGENDS. so, yeah, letâs hit that 250 and guess what? IâLL BE POSTING CHAPTER 5 ASAP once we get there. i HAVE to make the note goal higher because if i keep it at 200âi'll literally post everyday and i DO NOT have the strength to do that. i am sorry (not sorry at all).
âlove, vani
To be quite honest, youâd rather switch places with Sisyphus right now.
Yeah, youâd probably be drenched in sweat, rolling that massive boulder up a hill over and over again, failing endlessly, panting like a feral raccoon on the verge of collapse.
And yet? Youâd take it. Gladly.
Youâd throw yourself into the depths of the underworldâs worst punishments if it meant being anywhere else but here. If it meant doing anything else but sitting through this.
If it meant not having to hear, for the hundredth time, just how great Jungkookâs proposal to Nina was. How wholesome and romantic and perfect it had been. How your childhood best friendâthe one you once knew like the back of your handâis, apparently, the most lovable, charming, sweet, and overall best boyfriend-turned-fiancĂ© in existence.
You grit your teeth as Ninaâs voice pulls you back to the present, each of her words like a tiny, invisible shock to your system. Her joy is undeniable, written all over her face in bright, delicate excitement. Her hands move animatedly through the air, cutting through the thick atmosphere of the coffee shop, mimicking the way Jungkook had taken her hand in his, the way he had slipped that ring onto her finger.
And you?
You just sit there, nodding along, pretending that every detail doesnât feel like a stone being added to the weight already crushing your chest.
Yoongi is nodding along, gasping at all the right momentsâbut you see through him. His fingers tap lightly against his cup, and his lips twitch, like heâs suppressing a grimace every time Nina gets a little too animated. He loves her, adores her even, but Yoongiâdespite being a massive book nerd with an unspoken love for romance in fictionâis allergic to real-life romance talk.
So the fact that heâs enduring this? Says a lot.
You, on the other hand, sit stiffly, your fingers curled around the handle of your cup, the ceramic warm against your skin. You donât tense. You donât flinch. You just⊠exist in the moment, pretending this conversation isnât making you want to pour your espresso straight into your eyes. Your smiles are perfectly timed, your little laughs politeâjust enough to make it seem like youâre engaged. But inside, every word feels like an iron weight pressing on your chest.
âAnd I swear, I was shocked,â Nina exclaims, eyes wide, hands flying through the air as if sheâs physically reliving the moment.
Yoongi leans back slightly, expression unreadable. âNo way you didnât see it coming at all.â
Nina scoffs, placing a hand over her heart as if personally offended. âI didnât! Look!â
Before anyone can react, she shoves her phone into Yoongiâs face so fast he physically jerks back, blinking like she just hit him with a flashlight. You donât even need to look at the screen to know what it is.
âMy friends and YOU, my sweet brother, knew and didnât even tell me to get my nails done,â she groans dramatically, shaking her head.
Across the table, Jungkook, whoâs been suspiciously quiet during this entire reenactment of his own damn proposal, finally speaks.
âThey didnât wanna ruin the surprise for you, baby.â
His voice is soft, steady, but thereâs something in the way his hand lightly rubs Ninaâs back that makes your stomach churn.
You tilt your head, forcing out a light laugh. âWow. Talk about friendly sabotage.â
Itâs an attempt at humorâsomething, anythingâbut your fingers twitch against your cup, and when Jungkook glances at you, just for a second, his expression unreadable, you feel it.
The weight of it.
Of everything.
Jungkook looks away first.
The moment is fleetingâjust a quick glance, a second of hesitationâbut it lingers in the air like a truth neither of you dares to acknowledge. The weight of years apart, of missed conversations and things left unsaid, sits between you, thick and unmovable.
And then, Nina speaks again, blissfully unaware of the silent war happening right in front of her.
âBut they couldâve at least hinted at it,â she whines, but her eyes shine, a soft glow of happiness radiating from her features. âLike, I dunnoââOh, your nails are getting long, maybe book an appointment?ââ She sighs, shaking her head. âNow my engagement pics are lowkey ugly.â
You let out a small, amused scoff. âCâmon, it canât be that bad. Let me see.â
She doesnât hesitate to show you her phone, flipping the screen toward you. You lean in slightly, eyes scanning the image. And yeah, okayâyou get it. Her nails are a bit grown out, the perfect white tips slightly out of place, but itâs nothing dramatic. Still, if it were your hands in that picture, with a ring that big and nails that unpolished, youâd probably throw a tiny fit too.
You tilt your head, offering her a sympathetic smile. âOuch. You kinda do have a point, girl.â
âRight?â Nina huffs, crossing her arms, but thereâs laughter laced in her voice now.
Your gaze flickers to her hand, fingers curled around her coffee cup, the diamond on her finger catching the light just right. âAt least your nails are on point now,â you remark, nodding toward them.
She grins, wiggling her fingers in front of you. âDuh. No way I was letting that happen again.â
Yoongi snorts. âI swear, youâre the only person who could turn a proposal into a nail horror story.â
âHey! Itâs a valid concern,â Nina shoots back, tossing a sugar packet at him. âA girlâs gotta have her priorities straight.â
Jungkook chuckles under his breath, shaking his head. âBabe, you literally cried when I got down on one knee. You didnât even notice your nails until, like, an hour later.â
âYeah, because I was overwhelmed!â She points an accusing finger at him before turning to you. âDo you know how rude it is to just casually propose out of nowhere? No warning, no heads-upâjust âboom, life-changing moment, now deal with it.ââ
You press your lips together, eyes twinkling with amusement. âDamn, how dare he propose to you without a PowerPoint presentation and a six-week prep course?â
âThank you!â Nina exclaims, dramatically placing a hand over her chest. âFinally, someone who understands my suffering.â
Jungkook groans, rubbing a hand down his face. âNext time, Iâll send out a calendar invite first.â
âYeah, maybe you could even send it to us tooâso we can all prepare for the big day.â
The words leave your lips before you can stop them. Sharp-edged, bitter. Youâre an adult. You know better than to let something so petty slip out. Itâs not like you. Itâs childish. Spiteful. But restraint is impossible when the truth is gnawing at you from the inside outâwhen the person who once felt like an extension of yourself didnât even tell you he was getting married.
Didnât give you the chance to be there. To help pick the perfect ring. To witness his excitement, his nerves, the way he used to come to you with every major life decision. You were robbed. Of a moment. Of a friendship. Of him.
Nina, oblivious, just laughs at your remark, too caught up in the glow of her engagement to notice the venom laced in your voice. She keeps swiping through her phone, showing video after video of the proposalâfootage taken by the friends who did know, who were there, because Jungkook, ever the romantic, wanted to pop the question in front of the people she loved.
Yoongi wasnât there. He had been overseas for a project. Thatâs the only reason. But itâs funny, isnât it? How he never even mentioned the proposal to you until the invites were sent out. How that makes you question so many things.
Funnier still is the way he reacts.
Jungkook blinks. Slowly. His expression barely shifts, but you see it. The subtle tightening of his jaw, the way his tongue darts out to press against his cheek. His brows furrow, just slightly, like your words bother him. Like theyâre an itch he canât quite scratch.
And Yoongiâhe catches it too. His shoulders flinch, his breath stutters for just a fraction of a second, but his gaze never leaves Ninaâs phone. Like heâs pretending he didnât hear. Like he doesnât want to hear.
âMhm.â Jungkook hums, tapping his fingers against his cup. âDidnât wanna tell too many people. Didnât want it getting out too soon.â His lips pull into a smirk, eyes meeting yours with a flicker of something unreadable. Something close to a challenge. âYou know how it isâI didnât wanna ruin the surprise.â
You force a nod, shifting in your seat. âYeah,â you say, voice a little too smooth, a little too controlled. âGood thing you only told the people you trust.â
His smirk faltersâjust for a second. Itâs quick, almost imperceptible, but you catch it. He tilts his head slightly, like heâs choosing his next words carefully.
âWell, you know me,â he finally says, leaning back with a casual shrug. âAlways thinking ahead.â
You huff out a laugh, shaking your head. âYeah, okay, Mr. Genius.â
He lets out a soft chuckle, but thereâs something tight in the way his jaw moves, something lingering in the air between you that neither of you dares to name.
âSooo,â Nina drawls, turning to you with a sly look, her eyebrow raised like sheâs putting you on trial. âWhatâs going on with that boyfriend of yours?â
You blink at her, momentarily lost. âWhich boyfriend?â
She scoffs. âCome on, you knowâthe guy you were talking about last time I saw you.â
You tilt your head, giving her a flat look. âNina, that was two years ago.â
âSo what?â She shrugs, taking a sip of her drink like thatâs not a ridiculous amount of time to be out of the loop.
You exhale sharply, pressing your lips together. âWe broke up over a year ago.â
Her brows furrow. âWhy?â
You pause, fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of your cup. âEhh⊠We justâdrifted apart, I guess. Fell out of love.â
Nina hums, eyes flickering over you like sheâs assessing if thatâs the whole truth. You hold her gaze, daring her to dig deeper. She doesnâtâbut the air still feels a little heavier.
You donât notice the way Jungkookâs fingers tighten slightly around his coffee cup, how his grip falters just enough for the ceramic to shift in his hands. You donât catch the subtle squint of his eyes when you mutter âdrifted apart.â
But Yoongi does.
His gaze flickers to Jungkook, studying him like heâs reading between the lines of an unfinished story. Their eyes meet for the briefest secondâsilent, heavy. Jungkook shifts uncomfortably, clears his throat, like the moment never happened. Like Yoongi hadnât just told him something without saying a single word.
But the message is loud and clear.
Dude, youâre an asshole.
But Jungkookâhe doesnât feel like an asshole. He doesnât feel like he did something wrong.
Because he was the one who tried.
He was the one sending Facebook messages every damn day that summer while you were in Europe, just so you could replyâmaybe three times a week, at bestâbecause you were just so busy.
He was the one staying up all night, his textbooks blurred at the edges from exhaustion, only to set his alarm too early just so he could call you before your day started.
He was the one skipping lectures, missing out on life around him, just to sit in his tiny dorm room and listen to you talkâbecause thatâs how much he wanted to hold onto you.
And when he finally stoppedâwhen he silenced his alarm, when he went to class, when he decided to just wait and see if youâd reach out firstâthere was nothing.
No new calls.
No desperate messages.
Just silence.
And that silence? It was deafening. It was humiliating. It rang louder than any âI donât love you anymoreâ ever could.
So, no. Jungkook doesnât feel like an asshole. He just feels like someone who learned the hard way that loving someone more than they love you is its own kind of heartbreak. Heâs the one who learned when to stop trying.
When to stop holding onto the ties already cut.
âSo, what are you guys up to tonight?â Nina asks, her gaze flicking between you and Yoongi as she swirls the last of her coffee in her cup. Thereâs a glint in her eyeâcurious, maybe even a little mischievous.
Yoongi leans back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head. âNothing much. Gotta finish a chapter Iâm reviewing for that author I told you about,â he says, voice casual, though you can tell heâs already dreading it.
You glance at him before taking a slow sip of your coffee, the bitterness settling on your tongue. âSame. Just⊠getting mentally prepared for work tomorrow.â
Technically, itâs not a lie. You do have work tomorrow. But beneath the surface, thereâs a flicker of something else, something you try to ignoreâa spark of unease picking at your subconscious.
Because itâs Wednesday.
And that means an email is coming.
An email you donât want to read. An email youâll tell yourself to ignore. An email you know youâll end up opening anyway, your fingers hovering over words that feel like ghosts of your past self, haunting you in black and white.
Yoongi, oblivious to the shift in your mind, tilts his head toward Nina. âWhy?â he asks, tone easy but laced with mild suspicion.
Nina taps her fingers against the table, her lips twitching as if sheâs debating something. Then, she shrugs, but itâs far too casual to be genuine.
âI was just thinkingâŠâ she starts, letting the words linger, dangling in the air like bait.
You're hooked, despite yourself. Ninaâs dramatic pause stretches, her fingers absently twirling a lock of her black hair as she builds the suspense.
"Since Kook and I took a few days off..." she starts, her tone almost too careful. Then, before either of you can react, she holds up a hand. "Lookâbefore you call me crazy, I know itâs the middle of the week," she adds quickly, eyes locking onto Yoongi like she already expects his disapproval.
Yoongi exhales sharply, his patience wearing thin. "Just spit it out, for fuckâs sake."
Nina grins, as if this is exactly the reaction she was hoping for.
"Okay, soâI saw thereâs a gig at The House tonight, and I thought, maybe we could all go. Check it out. You know, like we used to in high school."
Her words land heavy in the air. Nostalgia. A double-edged sword. You feel it settle into your chest, an old, familiar ache.
The House is a relic of your teen years, a place that holds too much history to ever feel neutral. By day, it was a quiet coffee shop, hidden from the general crowdâonly those who truly knew TH even realized it was open before sunset.
But at night? It transformed. Gigs, live music, bands clawing their way into existence, hoping to be something more than just a name on a dimly lit flyer. The House wasnât just a venue; it was a second home. A place where dreams felt tangible, where friendships were solidified over cheap drinks and lyrics screamed into the air.
And if you go tonight, you already know exactly how itâll go. The moment you step through those doors, Alex will spot you. His signature flirty smirk will stretch across his lips, the same one heâs been sending your way since you were a teenager. Heâs only two years older, but heâs been working at The House since your very first time thereâand somehow, he never left. A fixture. A piece of that place, just like the worn-out stage and the dim, flickering neon sign above the entrance.
Alex was always a walking contradiction. Despite his shameless attempts to charm anything with two legs and a vagina, he was also something else to you. To all of you. Like an older brother who saw too much, who knew more than he let on. Who watched you fall in loveâwatched you get hurtâand never said a damn thing.
And thatâs the problem, isnât it? If you go tonight, it wonât just be a night out. Itâll be a collision with your past, a forced confrontation with the version of yourself that once walked those same floors, heart bare and reckless.
So, no. Thank you, but no. Youâd rather spend the night wallowing in your misery, drowning in thar email, than risk stepping back into a place that remembers too much.
âUgh, I donât knowâŠâ Yoongi scratches the back of his head, clearly torn between his usual routine and Ninaâs relentless pleading.
You lean back in your chair, taking a slow sip of your coffee. âI have work tomorrow, girl,â you remind her, hoping sheâll get the hint.
Ninaâs eyes widen, and she immediately pouts, sticking out her bottom lip like sheâs trying to win a contest for the most dramatic face. âPlease,â she begs, âwe havenât gone out since high school. Just one night. Please?â
You roll your eyes, feeling the weight of her stare. âOne night? Yeah, right. Youâll be the first to tell me how much I regret it tomorrow.â
âNot if youâre with us!â Nina says, flipping her hair dramatically. âItâll be fun! You, Kook, Yoongi and meâsame old crew, just like the good old days.â
Yoongi scoffs, giving her a side-eye. âYou act like we were some wild party animals back then.â
Nina grins mischievously. âWhatever, but Iâm not taking no for an answer.â
You stare at her, arms crossed. âFine. But this is the last time, you hear me? Next time you pull this stunt, Iâm throwing you in a broom closet with Alex from The House.â
Yoongi raises an eyebrow. âWait, so you're going just to avoid the broom closet?â
You shrug. âMaybe. Or maybe I just enjoy torturing myself.â
Jungkook, who had been quietly observing the conversation, finally speaks up, his voice a little hesitant but teasing. âYou know,â he says, leaning in slightly, âif you really want to make it interesting, we could all take shots and make it a competition. Who can go the longest without regretting it?â
You glance at him, your eyebrow raised. âOh, you think youâre some kind of expert on not regretting things?â
Jungkook smirks, his eyes glinting mischievously. âWell, I did just propose, didnât I? That takes a lot of confidence... and the ability to ignore some regrets.â
You laugh dryly, rolling your eyes. âGood one, Kook. Real subtle.â
Nina claps her hands excitedly. âYes! Thatâs exactly the spirit we need! Itâs settled. Weâre going!â
You lean back in your chair, pretending to contemplate. âFine. But if I hate it, Iâm blaming all of you. And Iâll make sure you pay for the coffee tomorrow.â
Yoongi leans back in his chair with a smirk. âIf I end up with a hangover tomorrow, Iâm blaming you. And Iâll make sure youâre the one buying that coffee.â
Jungkook grins, chiming in, âI think I will need another coffee after Ninaâs âparty planning.ââ
Nina gives him a playful glare. âYouâre all just jealous you donât have the same enthusiasm for drinking.â
You let out a dramatic sigh. âYeah, yeah. But if I end up regretting this, Iâm haunting every single one of you.â
Nina winks. âDeal!â
The weight of reality hits you the moment you step through the door of your apartment. The familiar scent of home isnât as comforting as it used to be; instead, it hangs in the air like an unwelcome reminder. Why? Why did you agree to this reunion, knowing exactly what it would stir up? Going to The House feels like self-sabotageâit feels like clawing at open wounds that never really healed, just scabbed over. It's a mistake. You know itâs a mistake.
You stare blankly at your surroundings, the space that once felt so much like yours, and now it feels... wrong. The corner of your table catches your eye. Your laptop sits there, silently screaming at you. Itâs the email. That email. Itâs been sitting there all day, mocking you. âTake me. Read me. You know you want to,â it seems to whisper. But you wonât. Not today. No. You wonât let yourself fall back into that messânot today, not when you're already feeling like this.
You push the thought away, willing yourself to breathe through the tightness building in your chest. Thereâs a limit to how much you can take, and youâve reached it. You will not engage with that stupid email today, no matter how much it calls to you like some kind of irresistible siren. No. Not when you have exactly three hours before you have to face everyone.
Before you have to see Jungkook again.
Itâs been so long since youâve had to look him in the eye. Seeing him earlier today was one thing, but now, after everything, having to face him againâtwo times in one dayâfeels like too much. Youâre not sure what you expected from today, but you know it wasnât this.
Not this weight.
You stand there, frozen in the middle of your apartment, knowing you should get ready. But it feels impossible. Every part of you is screaming to run away, to hide from the past that keeps trying to drag you back. But you canât. You wonât. You have to face itâface them. Even if it feels like youâre suffocating under the pressure of it all.
Your mind drifts back to The House, the one place youâve avoided for so long. The memories are already flooding back. The laughter, the music, the people you used to know so well. But most of all, itâs the feeling of himâJungkook. His presence is still a shadow over everything. And you know, deep down, this reunion, this thing Ninaâs dragging you into, is just going to make everything worse. You're not ready.
You never will be.
Your phone lights up, the soft ping of a new message breaking the silence of your apartment. You glance downâYoongi.
Yoon đ€: ya home?
You: yea, just arrived. u?
Yoon đ€: same. you sure you wanna go out tonight?
You: no, haha. wby?
Yoon đ€: same man. but sheâs my sis and the bride, gotta make her happy.
You: yeaa
Yoon đ€: and i guess it would be nice to chill there, like before yk? see alex.
You: yeah, i miss alex, lowkey feel gulity for not visiting him there.
Yoon đ€: yea me too.
Yoon đ€: go get ready, weâll be picking you up later.
Your phone pings again, Yoongiâs name lighting up the screen.
Yoon đ€: you okay tho?
You: yeah, just... weird.
Yoon đ€: i get that. but itâll be fine. iâll be there.
You: thanks. i guess itâs just⊠i dunno, feels like a lot of things are gonna come back up.
Yoon đ€: yeah, i hear you. but sometimes itâs good to face the past, yk?
You: idk if iâm ready for that.
Yoon đ€: iâll be there to distract you if it gets too much.
You: appreciate it.
Yoon đ€: of course. just get ready, weâll be leaving soon.
You: alright, give me like 20 minutes.
Yoon đ€: sounds good. see you soon.
You set your phone down, trying to take a deep breath, but then the realization hits. You quickly grab your phone again.
You: wtf dude, arenât u supposed to pick me up in 3 hrs, not this soon?
Yoon đ€: đ iâm messing with you. we wonât be there for a while. but hurry up, timeâs ticking!
You: youâre an asshole, but iâm getting ready.
You roll your eyes, setting the phone down again.
As soon as you slide into the car, a sense of discomfort washes over you. Itâs like stepping into a memory youâd rather not revisit, yet here you are. The seating arrangement is completely different from what you expected. Yoongi is at the wheel, his hands lazily draped over the steering wheel, fingers splayed wide. Heâs laughing at something Ninaâs sayingâsome ridiculous piece of friendship drama sheâs telling him, no doubt embellished for dramatic effect. Nina, as usual, is sitting in the passenger seat, her voice louder than the rest of the carâs noise.
Then there's the seating beside you: Jungkook. It feels strange. Just like before. Yoongi and Nina are up front, gossiping, while you and Jungkook are squeezed into the backseat like itâs high school all over again. Youâd imagined Nina and Jungkook sitting next to each other, given the whole engagement thing, but noâNina missed her brother so much, she had to hog him for herself.
You sit next to Jungkook, trying to ignore the growing awkwardness. The car is smallâYoongiâs car is cramped, and the backseat feels even smaller. Jungkook is practically taking up half of it, his body large and solid, pushing you against the door like a pancake. You can sense the heat radiating off him, and every time he shifts, itâs like you feel it. His leg brushes against yours, making the space feel even more suffocating.
âSorry,â Jungkook mumbles, trying to adjust, but his leg doesnât budge much.
You chuckle dryly, trying to mask the tension in your chest. âItâs fine. Not like you can really do anything about it,â you say, motioning vaguely at how small the car is with your hand.
He nods, his eyes drifting to the window, as if heâs looking for some kind of escape in the passing scenery. The silence stretches between you, the weight of old, unspoken words hanging in the air.
You clear your throat, breaking the silence, whispering, even though your voice sounds too loud in your head. âIâm glad, you know.â
âHuh?â Jungkook looks at you, confusion flickering in his gaze.
âAbout your engagement,â you clarify, glancing at him. âHow your life turned out. Itâs... good to see.â
He softens at that, nodding in appreciation. âThank you. Same goes for you. Iâm glad all your dreams came true.â
You offer a small, forced smile. âYeah, thank you.â The words are polite, but they feel like they belong to someone else.
The words hang in the air for a moment, soft but heavy. Jungkookâs voice barely breaks through the hum of the car, but you catch it, feeling the weight of it settle between you.
âDid you ever regret it?â His words are a whisper, but there's a tremor in his tone, something vulnerable hiding beneath the surface. You glance at him, catching the shift in his expressionâthereâs a quiet intensity in his eyes, like he's waiting for something, anything, from you.
You feel your chest tighten. Regret? The question cuts deeper than you expected. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, the cramped space suddenly feeling even smaller.
âRegret what?â You ask, your voice quieter than you intended, your breath catching slightly as you look over at him.
Jungkook doesnât look at you, his gaze fixed on the passing streetlights outside, as if the answer is too difficult to voice. âFollowing your dreams,â he says again, slower this time, as if testing the words on his tongue.
You breathe in sharply, trying to shake off the heaviness that threatens to settle in your chest. You let the silence stretch for a beat too long before you respond, trying to sound more certain than you feel.
âNever thought about it,â you reply, the words leaving your mouth easily enough. You glance away from him, fingers fiddling with the hem of your sleeve as you add, âBut no, I donât think so.â
And yet, even as the words leave your lips, thereâs a flicker of doubt. A small part of you wonders if you really donât regret itâif you donât regret all the things you left behind in the process, the pieces of yourself that never quite fit after chasing everything else.
The rest of the ride passes in silence between you and Jungkook, the quiet tension almost suffocating. The only sounds are the hum of the engine and the occasional shift of his leg pressing against yours, the warmth of it seeping through your jeans, but neither of you speak. The space between you feels like a canyon, and youâre unsure if youâre even capable of bridging it anymore.
Instead, you let Nina's voice fill the car, a steady stream of gossip, her words a distracting, almost absurd relief from the heavy quiet. You listen absently as she recounts her latest drama, her tone increasingly animated.
âSo, like,â Nina starts, her voice brimming with excitement, âAna, you know Ana, right?â Yoongi nods. âWell, apparently, sheâs been sleeping with her best friendâs husband. And get thisâsheâs been doing it right under her nose, for months.â
You blink, glancing at Nina through the rearview mirror, raising your eyebrows. The shock registers slowly. What the hell?
âI mean, what kind of shit is that? You shouldâve seen Anaâs face when I called her out on it. She was like, âItâs just a fling, Nina. I donât owe anyone an explanation.ââ Nina lets out a loud, disbelieving laugh, âA fling?! With a married man? How do you even get to that point?â
You can feel the tension in the car rise, your stomach sinking as Ninaâs story spirals.
"And guess what? The wife knowsâshe just hasnât said anything yet. She's playing it cool, waiting to catch them in the act. Sheâs just letting Ana keep digging her own grave.â
Ninaâs eyes flicker in the rearview mirror, a grin playing at the corner of her mouth as she leans in closer to Yoongi, who looks like heâs trying not to laugh at the absurdity of it all.
âWait,â you interject, not sure if you want to hear any more, âSo, whatâAna's sleeping with the guy while his wife is just letting her?â
Nina nods, as if itâs the most normal thing in the world. âExactly! And the best part?â She leans forward, her voice dropping dramatically. âShe caught them at a party the other night. The husband literally walked right past her, gave Ana this huge kiss on the cheek, and then turned to his wife and said, âBabe, Iâm going to grab another drink.â As if nothing was going on!â
You stare at her, blinking in disbelief. âWhat the hell?â
Nina throws her hands up in mock frustration, her eyes wide as if she's about to lose her mind. âI know! Itâs like a fucking soap opera. I swear to God, I canât keep up with these people anymore.â She shakes her head, laughing at the absurdity of it all. âLike, if youâre gonna cheat, at least have the decency to be subtle about it.â
You glance over at Jungkook, who still hasnât spoken, his eyes focused outside the window, though you can tell he's listening. His profile is unreadable, but you wonder if all lf this is more of a distraction for him than it is for you.
As soon as you step into The House, everything is blurry. The chaos of the night engulfs youâlaughter, the clinking of glasses, and the booming bass from the speakers that makes the floor beneath your feet vibrate. There are a lot of faces, some familiar, some new. Thank God for the new ones. For a moment, you let yourself breathe in the energy of the place, the music blaring, the cigarette smoke curling around you, invading your senses.
Then you hear the familiar sound of a voice you didnât realize you missed.
"Well, well, well, look who it is."
Behind the bar, a wide grin spreads across Alexâs face, his eyes lighting up as soon as he sees the four of you. Without hesitation, heâs movingâpractically runningâtowards Jungkook. The scene is a little bizarre, sure. Alex, a full head shorter than Jungkook, wraps his arms around him like a long-lost mother finally reunited with her child.
âMy boy!â Alex beams, patting Jungkookâs back like heâs proud of him for some hidden accomplishment. Jungkook laughs, actually laughs, his shoulders shaking a little with the sound.
âYouâve gotten so big. Youâre huge now,â Alex adds, since the last time he saw Jungkook was⊠Well⊠Years ago.
Jungkook smirks, chuckling under his breath. âYou forgot how to use a razor or something,â Jungkook says, pointing at Alexâs beard.
The comment makes Alex pull back just enough to give him a playful shove. âHey, donât start with me. Iâm just getting better with age, alright?â
Nina, with a sly grin, steps forward as Alex turns to her. "Pretty girl," Alex motions toward her with a wink, âLook at you. Thinking about giving me a chance already?â
Nina laughs, rolling her eyes but giving him the affectionate hug heâs so eager to receive. âYouâre still so lame.â
"You know Iâm just being nice,â Alex says, patting her on the back as she pulls away. âBut Iâll take the hug. You look good, girl.â
Yoongi, already standing off to the side with his arms crossed, lets out a small sigh. "The nerdy," Alex singsongs, eyes narrowing with the teasing tone. He gives Yoongi a respectful dap, fully aware how Yoongiâs personal space is sacred.
Yoongi raises an eyebrow but doesnât pull away, muttering a quiet, âYouâre lucky I donât have to be nice to you,â but his voice holds no real bite.
And then Alexâs gaze falls on you. His eyes soften immediately, like everything around him just slows down. He leans over the counter, his arms outstretched toward you. âAnd my lil monster,â he murmurs, his body melting into yours as you wrap your arms around him.
You breathe in, the scent of him enveloping youâcologne, wood smoke, and something you swear smells like the old leather of the barstools. He smells like home. A safe place you didnât know you needed.
âI missed you too,â you say, your voice surprisingly soft as you bury your face in his shoulder.
Alex chuckles, pulling back just a bit to give you a knowing look. âYouâve been avoiding me, havenât you?â
You smirk, rolling your eyes playfully. âDonât start, Alex.â
âCanât help it,â he grins widely, the energy between you two palpable. âYou all still owe me drinks. Iâm running a tab tonight. Just like old times, yeah?â
Nina glances at Yoongi with a raised brow. âYou know, I donât think I ever told him no,â she says, half-teasing, half-serious.
Yoongi snorts, his arms still crossed. âWeâre still not paying for you. Last time you drank enough for all of us.â
Alex throws his head back, laughing loudly, clearly unbothered by their teasing. âYeah, yeah. But Iâm the one who knows the best drinks, so youâre all stuck with me.â
You settle into the bar stools, the hard, cool surface pressing into your legs, yet it feels oddly comforting. The familiar buzz of The House surrounds youâdim lights, low murmurs of conversation, and the steady hum of the musicâbut all you can focus on is the figure behind the bar. Alex. His face practically glows as he crosses his arms, his sharp gaze flicking between the four of you with an intensity that feels almost... predatory. Itâs like heâs studying you, looking for something, anything, that betrays the carefully constructed walls each of you put up. You can almost feel the weight of his eyes on you, dissecting every movement, every shift.
âSo, whatâs new?â Alex asks, his voice casual, but his eyes betray an underlying curiosity that youâre not sure you want to indulge.
Surprisingly, itâs Jungkook who answers first. He was always the one who could talk to Alex without hesitation, like the two of them shared some sacred bond. You can almost hear the warmth in his voice when he speaks. âIâm getting married, bro.â
Alex freezes for a moment, and for the briefest second, time seems to halt in its tracks. His brows furrow, and a flicker of recognition crosses his face as he processes Jungkookâs words. Then, his eyes dart to you, and it feels like the world slows down, all noise fading into a dull hum.
âDang, dude,â Alex says, the words lingering in the air. âSo I didnât only miss you making it official, I missed the whole proposal?â
And just like that, everything shifts. The air in the room turns thick, suffocating. Your breath catches in your chest, and for a second, you think you might choke on your own thoughts. What? The? Fuck? Why would he say something like that? Why would he imply something so... loaded?
Jungkook gulps, his hand instinctively reaching for his drink, but itâs not served yet. Thereâs nothing to steady the trembling in his fingers. You see the tension in his jaw, the way he clenches his teeth, as if holding himself back from saying something. Yoongiâs eyes shut for a fraction of a second, like heâs trying to block out the uncomfortable atmosphere. Nina just stares, her expression unreadable, caught somewhere between confusion and shock.
And you? You donât know what to do. You donât know what to feel. All you can hear is the sound of your own pulse thudding in your ears, louder than any of the chatter around you. You want to say somethingâanythingâto break the tension, but your words get stuck in your throat.
But then, like a cruel punchline, Alex bursts into laughter. Itâs not just a chuckle. Itâs manic, almost cackling, like heâs just pulled off the best prank of his life.
âHa!â he says, his voice ringing with amusement. âShouldâve seen your faces, Iâm just kidding.â
You let out a breath you didnât realize you were holding, but the relief doesnât last. It doesnât feel like a joke. Not really. The weight of his words hangs in the air, lingering in a way that makes you feel like youâre being suffocated by something you canât shake. Because Alex is too good at reading people. He knows. He knows something shifted in the room, something unspoken thatâs now hanging between you all. And even though heâs laughing, you can feel the subtle shift in his demeanor. You can feel his gaze flicker toward you, that apologetic look in his eyesâhis way of trying to backpedal, to ease the tension he just created.
But it doesnât feel like an apology. Not when you see how his eyes flick toward Jungkook with that lookâa silent understanding passing between them. Itâs the kind of look that speaks volumes, and you know exactly what it means: He saw it. He knows.
The air feels colder now, heavier. And no one says a word as Alex wipes the smile off his face, pretending like everything is fine, like nothing just happened. But you canât shake the feeling that nothing good comes after this.
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đđđđđđđ đ±đđđđ | đ»đœđș
đœđźđ¶đżđ¶đ»đŽ: lando norris x fem!reader
đđđșđșđźđżđ: the one where Landoâs biggest win isnât on the trackâitâs marrying you
đșđđđ¶đ°: love of my life - harry styles
đđźđżđ»đ¶đ»đŽđ: none!

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The morning of the wedding was a blur of nervous excitement, stolen glances in the mirror, and the soft hum of music filling the bridal suite. Outside, the world was buzzingâthe chatter of guests arriving, the faint sound of waves crashing against the cliffs of the coastal venue, the rustle of flower arrangements being set in place. It was everything you had ever dreamed of, and yet, in this moment, your heart pounded with an overwhelming mixture of love, nerves, and anticipation.
Lando was waiting at the altar.
Your fingers toyed with the lace along the edge of your veil as your bridesmaids made their final adjustments. Your dressâtimeless, elegantâhugged you in all the right places, its intricate beading shimmering under the soft glow of the setting sun. The air smelled of roses and salt, a perfect blend of natureâs embrace and the carefully curated details you had spent months planning.
A knock at the door.
Your father stepped in, eyes glassy with emotion as he took you in. âYou look beautiful, sweetheart,â he said, voice thick.
You swallowed the lump in your throat, blinking rapidly. âI feel like I might pass out.â
He chuckled, offering his arm. âThen I suppose Iâll have to keep you upright until you make it to him.â
Him.
Lando.
The man who had turned your world upside down with his laughter, his unrelenting kindness, his ability to make you feel like the most important person in any room. The one who had held your hand through every fear, every challenge, every late-night worry.
And now, he was about to be your husband.
The music shifted, the gentle strum of strings signaling your entrance. A hush fell over the guests as the doors opened, revealing the path lined with delicate white petals, the golden glow of the evening sun casting an ethereal light over everything.
And there, at the end of the aisle, stood Lando.
His breath visibly hitched the moment he saw you. He looked devastatingly handsome in his tailored black tuxedo, a single white rose pinned to his lapel. But it was his expression that made your heart stutterâhis usual mischievous grin replaced with something softer, deeper. His eyes, filled with so much love and reverence, shimmered with unshed tears.
As you walked toward him, each step lighter than the last, it was as if the entire world faded away.
Lando wiped at his eyes the moment you reached him, letting out a breathy laugh. âYouâre unreal,â he whispered, squeezing your hands the moment your father placed them in his.
You smiled, blinking back your own tears. âSo are you.â
The officiant began speaking, but you barely heard the words. All you could focus on was Landoâhis thumb rubbing soothing circles over the back of your hand, the way his chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, how his eyes never once left yours.
Then, the vows.
Lando exhaled shakily, pulling a folded piece of paper from his pocket. âI wrote these down because I knew if I tried to say them from memory, Iâd probably forget everything the moment I looked at you,â he admitted, chuckling as a few guests laughed softly.
Then, he looked up, his gaze locking onto yours.
âYou are my greatest adventure,â he began, voice thick with emotion. âFrom the moment you walked into my life, you have been the calm to my chaos, the steady presence I never knew I needed. You have loved me through every win, every loss, every self-doubt. And somehow, through it all, you still look at me like Iâm someone worth loving.â
A tear slipped down your cheek.
Lando swallowed hard, eyes glassy. âI vow to love you in the quiet moments, not just the big ones. I vow to remind you every single day how incredible you are, how lucky I am to stand beside you. I vow to hold your hand through every storm, to be your home no matter where we are in the world.â
His voice broke slightly on the last sentence, and you instinctively squeezed his hands, grounding him.
âYou are my checkered flag,â he whispered. âNo matter what, I will always come home to you.â
Sniffles echoed through the crowd, and even the groomsmen were subtly dabbing at their eyes.
You took a shaky breath, unfolding your own vows. âI spent so long trying to find the perfect words for this moment,â you admitted. âBut the truth is, nothing I say could ever fully capture how much I love you.â
Landoâs lips pressed together, his grip on your hands tightening.
âYou have given me a love so big, so undeniable, that it fills every corner of my heart. You make me laugh when I want to cry, you see me when I feel invisible, and you remind me every day that love isnât just about the good momentsâitâs about showing up, even when things arenât perfect.â
You blinked back tears, voice steady. âI vow to always stand beside you, to be your safe place, your biggest fan. I vow to love you through every lap, every finish line, every road that life takes us down.â
A single tear rolled down Landoâs cheek, and you instinctively reached up, brushing it away.
âYou are my favorite story,â you whispered. âAnd I canât wait to spend forever writing it with you.â
The moment the officiant announced you as husband and wife, Lando didnât hesitate. He surged forward, cupping your face as he captured your lips in a kiss so deep, so filled with love, that the entire world seemed to stand still. The crowd erupted into cheers, but all you could hear was the rapid beat of his heart against yours.
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The Reception
The venue was breathtakingâa canopy of fairy lights twinkling overhead, the tables adorned with white roses and flickering candles. Lando kept you close, his arm constantly around your waist, his lips pressing against your temple every few minutes as if he still couldnât believe you were real.
The laughter and hum of conversation filled the beautifully lit reception hall, the warm glow of fairy lights casting a golden hue over the elegantly decorated tables. As the night settled into a comfortable rhythm, the clinking of silverware against glass signaled the next part of the eveningâthe speeches.
Lando squeezed your hand under the table, his thumb tracing soft circles against your skin. He leaned over, whispering, âReady for some mild embarrassment?â
You giggled, nudging him. âIâm more worried about you.â
The first to stand was Max, Landoâs best man, who smirked as he picked up the microphone.
Max took a deep breath, giving Lando a teasing look before turning to the crowd.
âWell, I never thought Iâd be standing here, giving a wedding speech for this guy,â he started, chuckling as Lando groaned. âNot because I didnât think heâd find love, but because, letâs be honest, Lando has always been married to racing first.â
Laughter rippled through the crowd, and Lando playfully threw his napkin at Max.
âBut then she came along,â Max continued, turning toward you with a warm smile. âAnd suddenly, the Lando we knewâthe one who spent more time sim racing than sleepingâstarted talking about something other than cars. Or should I say, someone.â
You felt your cheeks warm as Lando squeezed your hand tighter.
âYou are patient, you put up with his terrible jokes, and you somehow manage to keep him in checkâwhich, honestly, deserves a trophy of its own.â
The guests laughed, and Max took a quick sip of champagne before his expression turned sincere.
âLando, mate, Iâve seen you at your highest and your lowest, but nothing compares to how you look at her. Iâve seen you win races, achieve milestones, but finding someone who loves you for you, beyond all of thisâŠâ He gestured to the lavish venue, the world of racing that had shaped them both. âThatâs the real victory.â
Max lifted his glass. âTo Lando and his amazing wifeâmay your love always be on pole position.â
A round of applause erupted as everyone raised their glasses, Lando laughing as he clinked his with Maxâs before leaning over to kiss your temple.
Next, Landoâs mother, Cisca, stood, wiping at the corner of her eye as she picked up the microphone.
âFirst, I want to thank everyone for being here to celebrate such a beautiful day,â she began, smiling warmly at the crowd before turning toward the two of you. âAs a mother, you always dream of seeing your child grow into someone kind, strong, and loving. Lando, from the moment you were born, you brought an energy into this world that was impossible to ignore.â
Lando grinned, his free hand rubbing the back of his neck.
âYouâve always been fearlessâon the track, in lifeâbut what I admire most is the way you love. You love with all your heart, without hesitation, without holding back. And when she came into your life, I knew immediately that she was someone special.â
Cisca turned to you, her eyes filled with nothing but warmth. âYou bring out the best in my son. Youâve given him a sense of peace Iâve never seen before, and for that, I will always be grateful.â
Lando swallowed hard, clearly trying to keep it together.
âWith that,â Cisca smiled, raising her glass, âI wish you both a lifetime of laughter, adventure, and love that only grows stronger with time.â
The applause was deafening, and Lando wasted no time standing up to pull his mother into a hug.
Landoâs father, Adam, was next, standing with the calm confidence that clearly ran in the family.
âNow, I promise I wonât make this too long because, letâs be honest, my sonâs attention span isnât the greatest.â
Lando laughed, shaking his head as the room erupted with amusement.
âBut in all seriousness, seeing your child find their personâitâs a feeling I canât quite put into words,â Adam continued. âLando, youâve always been determined, always pushing for greatness, and I have no doubt that same determination will make you an incredible husband.â
His gaze softened as he looked between the two of you.
âMarriage isnât about perfection; itâs about showing up every day, choosing each other, even when itâs not easy. And if thereâs one thing I know about both of you, itâs that you donât back down from a challenge.â
He raised his glass. âTo my son and my new daughterâmay your love be the greatest victory of all.â
Landoâs brother, Oliver, and his sister, Cisca, stood together, sharing a knowing look before Oliver took the mic.
âSo, growing up with LandoâŠâ Oliver trailed off, shaking his head as the crowd chuckled. âLetâs just say, weâve seen him in his prime. And by prime, I mean running around the house in his underwear, causing absolute chaos.â
Lando groaned, covering his face as everyone laughed.
âBut through all of it, one thing has always been trueâLando has the biggest heart. He might be stubborn, he might be competitive, but when he loves, he loves.â
Cisca took over, smiling warmly at you. âAnd we see that love every time he looks at you.â
Oliver nodded. âWeâve never seen him happier, and thatâs saying something because this guy literally lives for adrenaline. But you? Youâre the real thrill.â
They raised their glasses together. âTo Lando and his incredible wifeâwelcome to the family.â
Carlos stood, shaking his head with a smirk. âI feel like I should start this by sayingâfinally.â
Laughter filled the room, Lando groaning as Carlos winked at you.
âIâve had the privilege of knowing Lando for years, and trust me, itâs been an experience.â
More laughter.
âBut in all seriousness,â Carlos continued, his voice softening, âwatching Lando grow, both on and off the track, has been incredible. And seeing him with you? Itâs like heâs found his missing piece.â
Landoâs grip on your hand tightened.
âI wish you both a life filled with happiness, adventures, and maybe, just maybe, a little bit of patience for Landoâs bad habits.â
The room laughed as Carlos raised his glass. âTo a lifetime of love and laughter.â
Oscar took the mic last, pausing for dramatic effect.
âI was going to prepare a long speech, but then I remembered that Lando can barely sit still for five minutes, so Iâll keep it short.â
Lando snorted, nodding. âFair enough.â
Oscar smiled, glancing at you. âYou make him better. Not just as a driver, not just as a person, but in ways that are impossible to put into words.â
A beat of silence.
âThatâs how you know itâs real.â
The room let out a collective aww, and Lando shook his head, clearly caught off guard by the sincerity.
âTo the happy couple,â Oscar said, raising his glass. âAnd to making sure Lando never forgets how lucky he is.â
Lando laughed, clinking his glass with Oscarâs before turning to you. âI definitely wonât.â
As the applause and cheers filled the air, Lando leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear.
âStill think marrying me was a good idea?â
You turned, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. âThe best decision of my life.â
And with that, the night continuedâfilled with laughter, dancing, and love that would last a lifetime.
Later in the night, after the cake had been cut and the dance floor was filled with swaying couples, Lando pulled you away from the crowd.
âCome with me,â he whispered, lacing his fingers through yours.
He led you down a small path lined with lanterns, away from the noise, until you reached a quiet balcony overlooking the ocean. The waves crashed softly below, the scent of salt and jasmine filling the air.
Lando turned to you, eyes shining. âYou know how they say life moves fast?â
You nodded, heart still racing.
âWell,â he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours, âfor once, I donât want to rush. I just want to stay in this moment, with you, forever.â
You smiled, brushing your lips against his. âThen letâs make forever ours.â
And with the stars as your witnesses, you did.
.ă»ă.ă»ăâă».ă»â«ă»ăă»ă. .ă»ă.ă»ăâă».ă»â«ă»ăă»
masterlist
#f1 imagine#lando norris#lando norris fanfic#lando norris fluff#lando norris imagine#lando norris x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#formula 1#formula one#mclaren#mclaren f1#ln4#lando norris x you#f1 x you#ln4 imagine#ln4 x reader#ln4 fic#ln4 mcl#lando norris fic#wroetolando
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CW: SMUT. Joyride, NSFW. 21+. Pussy eating, outdoor sex.
âWhen youâre sitting behind me, there are things more interesting than speed.â
Another free Sylus card đ©đ©â€ïžâ€ïžâ€ïžâ€ïž I was just talking in my discord this morning how I wanted more motorbike Sylus cards. This is unreal. â€ïž
Like the feel of your breasts pressing against his back as you hold onto him tightly.
His hand reaching behind him travelling up your thigh, squeezing, silently communicating that he can feel the heat of your body even through the motorcycle gear.
Your hands roaming his torso, slipping under his shirt, tracing the ridges and lines of his hard abs. Making him shudder beneath your touch. His groans lost in the wind but you can feel the vibrations through his back.
He picks up speed. The adrenaline of the motorbike, your touches getting too much. He needs you. Needs more. Needs to taste you.
The bike comes to halt. Neither of you care about the open setting anymore. You need him just as much as he needs you.
He uses his evol to keep his bike steady and up right as he bends you over the seat. His hands making quick work of your jeans yanking them down your thighs and exposing your dripping cunt to the cool night air.
As much as he wants to thrust into you, he doesnât. Even with the thrill and the risk of outdoor sex he wants to take his time with you. Wants to make you cum at least twice. He drops to his knees behind you. His large hands firmly gripping your ass as he spreads you open. Groaning at the sight of your glistening sex.
âSo fucking wet for me, Kitten.â Without further preamble he leans forward, his tongue delving between your folds. Expertly eating you out. He knows your pussy well after all. Itâs his favourite place to be.
You grip onto the motorbike, knuckles turning white as your moans fill the night air and the obscene sounds of Sylus enjoying your juices. His fingers join in. Starting off nice and slow, relishing the feeling of your hot wet walls clenching around two of his long large fingers.
He knows just where to stroke and rub to get you over the edge. Your pussy flutters around his fingers, your release gushing out of you onto his hand and mouth. Sylus groans, âfuck yes.â His cock throbs painfully against his pants. The dual zippers seemingly ready to burst from the pressure but he doesnât pull back yet. Heâs gonna wring out every ounce of your pleasure. He loves sending you into overstimulation until youâre begging for relief.
âSy⊠p-please!â You whimper. With a satisfied smirk, he licks between your folds a few more times before pulling away.
Sylus makes quick work of his pants. Freeing his large straining cock. âYouâre so fucking beautiful like this, Sweetie.â
He strokes himself a few times before easing himself inside your warm centre, groaning at the exquisite sensations. As much as heâd love to fuck into you hard and fast straight away he knows how big he is, that he needs to give you a chance to adjust.
You arch your back. Your sweet moans and gasps like music to his ears as he fills you.
âI could stay like this forever, Kitten.â he groans as he starts to move, the drag of his thick veiny cock against your walls is exquisite. As he feels you relaxing and getting used to his intrusion he grips your hips and starts fucking you faster.
âAh..ah.. oh fuck.. Sylus!â You cry out in pleasure. He feels deep in any position but when heâs behind you like this⊠itâs so fucking intense. Your eyes water from the intense pleasure but you look at him over your shoulder. Your face flushed and youâre panting. âD-donât stop.â You whimper to reassure him that youâre okay.
Sylus nearly cums right then and there. The sight of you, a whimpering, flustered mess. All because of him. âPerfection.â He grunts as he continues to pound into you. Sylus feels his orgasm building at the base of his spine. He reaches around you, finding your clit and massaging it. There was no way he was cumming before you had your second orgasm.
âF-fuck⊠Sylus!â You throw your head back in pleasure. The dual stimulation of his fingers on your clit and him fucking into you is too much. Your body trembles and shakes beneath him as you orgasm over his cock. Your pussy rippling along his pistoning shaft.
Sylus lets out a loud guttural moan at the feeling of your cunt clenching his cock. âThatâs it, Sweetie. Fuck youâre amazing.â After a few more thrusts he hilts inside you. His release barreling down on him. Thick ropes of his cum paint your insides. Marking you as his in the most primal way.
Sylus collapsing against your back, youâre both panting. He nuzzles into your neck. Inhaling your scent as he places a few kisses onto your sweat slicked skin.
âYouâre so beautiful. Sweetie. I love you.â
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ïœĄâ âBoth Calloused HandsïœĄâ .ïŸâ +â Â
âJason x reader
âCw: body image issues, sex mention, birth control mention, slight possessiveness
You have a handful of the skin of your stomach in your hand, your shirt rolled up to expose your body to the unforgiving visage in the full length mirror. Your frown is tense, a hard crease between your brows as you pinch and rub your skin between your fingers.
Jason is behind you, just barely in view from the side of the mirror. He's doing something on his phone, not paying attention to what you're doing. You're supposed to be getting dressed, but you're clearly sidetracked.
"I think I'm gaining weight." You sound just as uncomfortable as you look.
"So?"
"My pants don't fit the same way they did a couple months ago."
Jason raises an eyebrow, tearing his gaze from his phone to lock eyes with yours through the mirror.
"I can take you shopping tomorrow then."
"No, Jason I don't want you to buy me new pants."
New pants is giving up. It's defeat. It's acceptance of your new body, your new size.
"I think it's cuz of my new birth control."
"I'm still not seeing the problem. You look as good as you always do."
Your frown deepens. You've seen Jason practically worship the ground you work on. You've felt his calloused hands drag along your waist, his lips bite and suck exactly where your hands are placed upon yourself. You know he's attracted to you, but there's this weird separation in your head that just doesn't seem to leave you.
Because how good is good? And what does he mean as you always do? Have you always been this weight, always looked this way and you're just noticing now? The thought makes you a little sick.
"Look..." Jason slides behind you, wrapping his hands around yours. "If it makes you that unhappy then just get off it. I still think you're gorgeous, for what it's worth."
"If I get off the pill then no sex at least until marriage." You love Jason, but you're not gonna end up anyone's baby mama, daddy, or nothing.
"Okay, then let's get married."
"Jason, be serious."
"I am." He shrugs.
Your breath leaves you in a huff of air. You're left staring at him through the reflection, the weight of him behind your back feels too heavy, and unreal, at the same time.
"D-Don't fuck with me, Jason."
He tucks his face into the crook of your neck, breathing you in. "'M not."
"You mean it?"
"Yeah."
You look down to where your hands are interlocked over your stomach, and the back up to your face in the mirror. Heart fluttering excitement gets squashed by a sudden feeling of utter inadequacy. Not enough of what you should be, and too much of what you are.
It's like you're covered in it. This drudge of grotesqueness that no one around you seems to have. It's on the meat of your arms and the fat of your thighs, it pulls to create the lines on your face, and the stretch marks on your chest. You're drowning in the pieces of you that separate you from others. The ugly parts that you know other people have, but you can't seem to find when you look at them.
"We should stay in."
"What?" You choke out.
"We should stay in. I don't wanna share you right now."
"... Share?"
"No. Keep every part of you to myself. No one else should look at you, but me."
Jason's eyes are burning into your reflection. His gaze is heavy, possessive. You don't know how long he's been staring.
"We can reschedule for another time." He placates, running kisses down your shoulder. "Come lay with me."
Your throat feels thick with tears. They came out of nowhere, really.
"Y-Yeah, okay."
"Okay."
Neither of you move for a moment, stuck eye-fucking each other in the mirror. Jason with a heat that makes you want to shy away, yourself with a soft and hesitant reverence. You make quite the sight.
He breaks the tension with another kiss, this one placed on your jaw, and begins to lead you away from the mirror. When your head turns to catch one last appraisal of your body Jason places a hand on your cheek, guiding your eyes back towards himself.
"Eyes on me, pretty."
"Okay."
Reader, having a slight breakdown: I'm gross, worthless, nobody should love me ever.
Jason, completely oblivious: Jesus fucking Christ they're so hot be normal be normal be normal be normal be normal
Posting this but it's almost 2am and it's not proofread, if it's ass uhhhhh that's none of my business. I have longer fics not too far behind this one, trust and believe
ïœĄâ âRequests Open
#ive been so busy and so sick ive had no time to write I'm so sorry please take this as an apology#ËËË â
venus writes â
ËËË#ËËË â
batfam â
ËËË#black reader#jason todd x y/n#jason todd x you#jason todd x reader#jason todd x male reader#jason todd x fem!reader#jason todd x gn!reader#jason todd x gender neutral reader#gn reader#gender neutral y/n#gender neutral reader#fem reader#male reader#red hood x you#red hood x reader#red hood x y/n#red hood x male reader#red hood x fem!reader#red hood x gn!reader#red hood x gender neutral reader#batfam x gn reader#batfam x reader#batfam x you
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Can you do the seven half-sisters thing again? With him going into the army before college, changing his appearance (becoming more handsome and looking more like a grown man), height and posture, even his voice , which was no longer that voice of a teenager
Bad Brother, Worst Sisters
Yandere w/ Smut
Yandere Ryujin, Lisa, Jo Yuri, Kazuha, Choerry, Rei and Miyeon x Male Reader

AN: Last story for this week! I haven't slept if anyone's wondering hahaha, I was too busy trying to finish this. This story was done by me but i was helped by a dear friend of mine.
Enjoy this one! I will be sleeping now hahaha XD
(God this lineup is so goated tbh)
The announcement of your enlistment was met with indifference. Your step-sisters barely reacted.
Ryujin was slouched on the couch, scrolling through her phone. She barely spared you a glance. âCool. Have fun in boot camp or whatever.â
Lisa chuckled, twirling a strand of her hair. âGonna get all buff, huh? Maybe youâll actually become useful.â
Jo Yuri shrugged. âItâs not like you had a choice. Every guy has to go.â
Kazuha tilted her head, expression blank. âWhen do you leave?â
You sighed. âTomorrow morning.â
Choerry smiled, but there was no warmth. âWell, donât die or anything.â
Rei simply nodded. Miyeon muttered a quick âGood luck.â
That was it. No tears, no sentimental goodbyesâjust a few passive comments before they returned to whatever they were doing.
It wasnât surprising. You had always been more of an outsider in the family. Your step-sisters never went out of their way to be cruel, but they werenât exactly warm either. They lived in their own little world, and you were just... there.
You left without looking back.
Months of grueling training changed you. When you stepped through the front door, the air in the house felt different.
Silence.
Thenâ
Ryujin appeared first. She stopped in her tracks, eyes scanning you up and down. Her usual lazy smirk was gone. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out.
Lisa leaned against the kitchen counter, her fingers gripping a glass of water so tightly it might crack. âHoly shit.â
Jo Yuri tilted her head, brows furrowing. âNo way⊠thatâs you?â
Kazuha stepped forward cautiously. âYour voiceâŠâ she murmured, as if hearing it felt unreal.
Rei swallowed, her gaze locked onto your face. âYou look so⊠different.â
Miyeon placed a hand on her chest, a slow smile spreading on her lips. âYouâve grown into such a fine man, havenât you?â
Choerry bit her lip, her gaze dark and unreadable. âAnd we just let you leave looking like that?â
You laughed awkwardly, setting your duffel bag down. âWell, yeah. Itâs still me.â
But their stares didnât waver. They were studying youâabsorbing every inch of the new you.
That first night back, you could feel their eyes on you. Whenever you moved around the house, they were there. Watching. Observing. If you passed by the living room, one of them would be lounging nearby, pretending to be on their phone. If you went into the kitchen, youâd suddenly feel a presence behind you, too close for comfort.
The air was thick with something unspoken. Their casual indifference was gone, replaced with something else entirely.
At first, their behavior seemed harmless.
Lisa, who used to tease you relentlessly, started making excuses to be close. âYou work out now, huh?â she mused, hands gliding over your arms. âI wonder how strong youâve gotten.â
Ryujin, usually distant, started dropping into your room unannounced. Sheâd sit on your bed, stretching, acting like she belonged there. âIâm just bored,â sheâd say. But the way her eyes lingered on you said otherwise.
Jo Yuri was the worst. She had always been a little playful, but now? Her touches lingered too long. Her words were too sweet. âYou missed us, didnât you? I can tell.â
Kazuha started bringing you snacks, feeding you piece by piece with her fingers. âEat up. You need to keep your strength.â She always insisted on watching you eat, her fingers grazing your lips whenever she fed you.
Rei always found ways to touch you. A hand on your wrist. A brush against your neck. âYouâre warmer now.â
Miyeon and Choerry started arguing over who got to sit next to you at dinner. It was eerie, how quickly things shifted. Miyeon would pull your chair closer to hers, wrapping her arm around your shoulders, whispering things too soft for the others to hear. Choerry, on the other hand, had a more aggressive approachâcutting your food for you, feeding you like a child, her smile twitching whenever someone interrupted.
The nights were the worst. You started locking your door. It didnât help. Some nights, you swore you heard the doorknob turning. Other nights, you could hear soft whispers right outside your room. Once, you woke up to find your window slightly open, even though you were certain you had locked it.
The suffocation became unbearable. You told your parents, but they dismissed it. âTheyâre just happy youâre home.â
So you made the decision. You moved out.
The day you left, their reactions were⊠unsettling.
Lisa stood by the door, arms crossed, but her nails dug into her skin. âYouâre seriously leaving?â
Ryujin scoffed. âTch. Whatever.â But her eyes burned with something dangerous.
Jo Yuri stepped close, whispering, âYouâll come back. You always will.â
Kazuha simply stared, her grip tightening on the edge of your shirt before she let go.
Rei smiled, but it didnât reach her eyes. âEnjoy your freedom while it lasts.â
Miyeon kissed your cheek. âWeâll be waiting.â
Choerry didnât say a word. She just watched you walk away.
Life in your apartment was peaceful. You could finally breathe. But something felt wrong. No messages, no calls. No sign of them at all.
Until one night.
You unlocked your door after a long day at college. The lights were on.
And Lisa was sitting on your couch, waiting.
She smiled. âHey, baby bro. Long time no see.â
Your stomach twisted. âLisa? How did you get in?â
She stretched, making herself comfortable. âWhat kind of sister would I be if I didnât have a spare key?â
What the hell?
You exhaled. âAlright, you visited. Now leave.â
Lisa pouted. âThatâs not how you treat family, is it?â
Still, you sighed and decided to make dinner. Maybe if you played along, sheâd leave faster.
You were halfway through preparing food whenâ
A hand covered your mouth.
Darkness.
When you woke up, your wrists were tied to your steel desk. The dim glow of your bedside lamp cast eerie shadows on the walls.
Lisa sat across from you, smiling. âYou really shouldnât have left, baby brother.â
Anger flared through you. âLisa, what the hell is this?! Let me go!â
The door creaked open.
Six figures stepped inside, their eyes gleaming.
Miyeon smiled sweetly. âYou really thought you could leave your family behind?â
Ryujin scoffed. âDumbass.â
Choerry giggled, tracing a finger along your wrist. âYouâre ours. No matter what.â
The air felt thick, suffocating, as the seven of them closed in around you. Your breath hitched when fingersâsoft, lingering, possessiveâbrushed against your skin. One by one, they reached for you, tracing slow patterns over your arms, your chest, your throat. Every touch was deliberate. Every gaze was heavy with something dark, something dangerous.
"You shouldn't have left," Miyeon whispered, her lips ghosting near your ear.
"Bad boys need to be punished," Ryujin added, nails lightly scraping down your forearm.
Lisaâs fingers trailed along your jaw, tilting your head up to meet her smirk. "You really thought we'd just let you go?"
Jo Yuri exhaled a soft laugh, her hands pressing against your shoulders, keeping you in place. "You belong to us, baby brother."
Kazuha was quiet, but her grip on your wrist tightened, her touch possessive, unyielding. Rei leaned in next, her breath warm against your cheek. "Even if weâre siblings⊠it doesnât change a thing."
Choerry giggled, her fingers brushing down your chest, teasing. "And tonight, weâll finally make sure you understand that.â
As they slowly had their way with youâfingertips teasing the hem of your shirt, lips brushing against your skin, teeth grazing your earlobeâyou felt your body tense, heat crawling up your spine. Every touch was deliberate, every action meant to remind you that resistance was futile.
Lisa chuckled against your neck, pressing a kiss just below your jaw. âLook at youïżœïżœ pretending you donât like this.â
Ryujinâs fingers lazily traced down your chest, her smirk dark. âYour bodyâs shaking. Is it fear⊠or excitement?â
Jo Yuri giggled, hands gliding over your shoulders, her grip tightening when you flinched. âYou canât run, baby brother. Not from us.â
Then, Kazuha moved in. Unlike the others, she didnât tease or hesitate. Her hands slid up to your face, her touch firm, claiming. Before you could protest, she pulled you inâher lips crashing against yours in a deep, breath-stealing kiss.
You tried to recoil, tried to move away, but it was impossible. Your wrists were still bound to the table, leaving you trapped as she kissed you like she had all the time in the world. Her tongue parted your lips effortlessly, tasting you, owning you.
Rei sighed, watching with dark amusement. âSo unfair, Kazuha⊠You got to him first.â
Choerry leaned in closer, her voice sickly sweet. âDonât worry⊠We have all night.â
Kazuhaâs hands were everywhereâtrailing down your arms, gripping your waist, pressing into your skin like she wanted to memorize every inch of you. Yet, her lips never once left yours, moving with a slow, deliberate hunger that made your head spin.
Without breaking the kiss, her fingers deftly unbuttoned your shirt, parting the fabric with agonizing slowness. A shiver ran through you as cool air met your skin, but the warmth of her touch quickly followed, tracing along your torso. Then, her fingers drifted lower, playing with the belt of your jeans, teasing, testing.
The others didnât move. They simply watched.
Ryujin leaned back with a smirk, arms crossed as her eyes drank in your struggle. âGetting shy now? Thatâs cute.â
Lisa tilted her head, amusement flickering in her gaze. âDonât fight it. You knew this was coming.â
Miyeon exhaled softly, eyes dark with something unreadable. âHe looks so perfect like this⊠vulnerable.â
Jo Yuri giggled, resting her chin on her palm. âI wonder how long heâll last before he stops pretending to resist.â
You squirmed, wrists still bound, but Kazuha held you firmâlips pressing harder, fingers tightening. You were completely at their mercy.
And they knew it.
You tore your lips away from Kazuhaâs, chest heaving as anger boiled inside you. âYou sick freaksâlet me go! What the hell is wrong with you?!â
Your voice echoed through the room, raw with fury, but the only response was soft, amused laughter.
Lisa leaned back, smirking. âAww, heâs mad. Isnât that adorable?â
Jo Yuri tilted her head, lips curling into a grin. âSo feisty. I love it when he tries to act tough.â
Ryujin rolled her eyes, arms crossed. âHe still doesnât get it, does he?â
Your wrists strained against the bindings, but it was useless. No matter how much you fought, you were trapped. And they knew it.
Kazuha wiped her lips with the back of her hand, her eyes gleaming. âThat wasnât very nice of you,â she murmured, disappointed.
Before you could snap back, a sharp pain exploded through your arm.
You gasped. One of themâMiyeon, you realized too lateâhad tightened her grip around your wrist, her nails digging in, deeper and deeper, until the skin broke. Blood welled up beneath her fingers, and you let out a sharp, involuntary yelp.
Miyeonâs expression didnât change. She simply leaned in, her voice deceptively soft. âIf you do that again, little brotherâŠâ Her nails pressed in even harder, making you wince. ââŠweâre going to make it so much worse for you.â
Lisa smirked as she pulled out a small knife, the dim light reflecting off the sharp edge. Without hesitation, she pressed the cool blade against your skin, dragging it slowly, tracing little patterns with deliberate care.
At first, it was just a faint sting. Then the pain deepened, sharp and burning. You gritted your teeth, a muffled groan escaping before a hand suddenly clamped over your mouth.
âShhh, be good,â Rei whispered against your ear, her breath warm. âNo screaming. We canât have that, can we?â
Your body tensed as Kazuha returned, her lips crashing onto yours with a hunger that left no room for escape. She kissed you deeper this time, her fingers trailing down your bare chest, nails grazing over fresh wounds.
Meanwhile, the others moved with unsettling coordination. Hands tugged at your belt, unfastening it with ease. The rustling of fabric sent a chill down your spine.
Then, with one swift motion, your pants and boxers were yanked down, leaving you completely exposed.
Lisa chuckled, pressing the tip of the blade teasingly against your thigh. âNow, letâs see how much more fun we can have.â
Lisa and Jo Yuri, leaned in, their breaths warm against your exposed skin. Without hesitation, their tongues met at your length, gliding over it in slow, deliberate motions as they shared every inch between them. Lisaâs touch was playful, teasing, while Jo Yuri moved slower, savoring every reaction you gave.
Meanwhile, Kazuha kept her lips firmly pressed against yours, refusing to let you pull away. Her fingers tangled in your hair, holding you in place as she deepened the kiss, her tongue claiming yours with dominance. Her eyes burned with something dangerous, something possessive.
"Donât even think about running, baby brother," she whispered against your lips, her voice laced with amusement. "You were made for usâso just accept it."
Kazuha slowly pulled away, a satisfied smirk on her lips as she licked the taste of you off her mouth. "I shouldnât be the only one having fun, right?" she murmured, her fingers trailing down your chest before stepping back, giving the others their turn.
Rei wasted no time. She grabbed your face and crashed her lips against yours, far rougher and more demanding than Kazuha had been. Her nails raked down your skin, leaving faint red marks in their wake, as if she wanted to carve her presence into you. Her tongue forced its way past your lips, claiming you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.
Meanwhile, from the corner of your eye, you saw Kazuha slipping off her undergarments. She settled onto the chair across from you, spreading her legs ever so slightly, her fingers disappearing between them. Her breathing grew heavier, her lips parting in pleasure, yet her gaze never left yours.
"Donât look away," she purred, biting down on her lower lip as her movements became more deliberate. "I want to see what you and Rei are doing."
As Rei kept her lips locked onto yours, her tongue exploring with a hunger that matched Kazuhaâs burning gaze, Lisa and Jo Yuri continued sharing your length, their mouths working in tandem. Desperation clawed at you as you tried once more to break free, but before you could even shift, Ryujin, Miyeon, and Choerryâs hands were on youâfirm, unrelenting.
"Ah, ah⊠where do you think you're going?" Miyeon cooed, pressing down harder, her nails digging into your wrists.
Ryujin smirked, tightening her grip. "Youâre staying right here, baby brother."
Choerry giggled, her eyes glinting with excitement. "Guess itâs our turn now."
With that, Lisa and Jo Yuri pulled away, leaving a wet trail along your skin as Choerry and Ryujin took their place. Their mouths were impossibly warmer, tongues needier, eager to devour you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, suffocatingâand yet, their eyes told you the worst was still yet to come.
Ryujin let the tip rest against her tongue for a moment, eyes flickering up to meet yours before she gave a slow, deliberate slap against it, her smirk sending a shiver straight down your spine. "Sensitive, aren't you?" she teased, her voice laced with amusement.
Meanwhile, Choerry was far less patient, her lips sealing around you with a desperate kind of hunger, as if she couldnât get enoughâas if this was her last chance to have you. Every movement, every flick of her tongue, sent heat pooling in your stomach, your body betraying you no matter how much you tried to fight it.
Within seconds, Miyeonâs fingers wrapped around your length, her touch slow and deliberate, using the slickness left behind by Ryujin and Choerryâs mouths. A shiver ran through you as she stroked you with an almost practiced ease, her grip just tight enough to keep you on edge.
She leaned in, her breath warm against your ear as she whispered, "Youâve always been ours. Since the very beginning. Fighting it wonât save you... itâll only make things harderâfor you." Her voice dripped with amusement, her pace never faltering, as if daring you to resist.
Your body tensed, every nerve on edge as Miyeonâs hand continued its merciless rhythm. You bit your lip, trying to suppress the inevitable, but the overwhelming sight before you made it impossible. Kazuhaâs fingers worked between her thighs, her breathy moans mixing with the wet sounds of Miyeonâs strokes. Your other step-sisters were tangled in each other, their lips meeting in desperate, hungry kisses. The ones holding you down only tightened their grips, making sure you had nowhere to run, nowhere to escape.
"M-Mi⊠Miyeon, pleaseâ" your voice cracked, a mix of shame and desperation spilling from your lips.
Miyeon chuckled, her fingers never slowing, twisting just enough to make your hips jerk involuntarily. "Please, what?" she teased, her warm breath tickling your ear. Miyeon chuckled, her fingers never slowing, twisting just enough to make your hips jerk involuntarily. "Gonna cum?" she taunted, her warm breath tickling your ear. "Go on, donât hold back. Itâs not like you can stop it anyway."
As the pressure built deep inside you, your breath hitched, your body betraying you. Just as you were about to tip over the edge, Ryujin yanked Miyeon away. Before you could even react, Lisa seized your face, forcing your gaze to meet hers. "Go on, baby brother," Lisa purred, her grip tightening as her lips brushed against your ear. "Make a mess, and weâll make you regret it. Be good for usâhold it in."
You bit down on your lip, forcing yourself to hold it inânot out of defiance, but because you were too weak to endure whatever punishment they had in store. The sting of your wounds still burned, fresh blood trickling down your skin. But despite your restraint, a small drop of release spilled from your length. Rei noticed instantly, her eyes gleaming with something dark. With a slow, deliberate motion, she swiped it up with her fingerâthen brought it to her lips, tasting you with a satisfied hum. Reiâs lips curled into a smirk as she sucked the remnants off her finger, her gaze never leaving yours.
âHm⊠even when you're trying to behave, your body still betrays you,â she purred, tilting her head. âDidnât Lisa tell you to hold it in, baby brother?â
Her eyes darkened with something wicked, something dangerous. âLooks like you need to be taught a little more discipline.â
"I wonât be a bad brother anymore⊠I swear," you pleaded, desperation lacing your voice. "Iâll go back to the house⊠just please, let me go."
Choerry cupped your face with both hands, her grip firm, her touch almost affectionate as she tilted your head forward. "Shh, donât fight it," she whispered, guiding you closer to Kazuhaâs glistening heat.
Kazuhaâs breath hitched, her fingers digging into the table as she trembled on the edge of release. "Be good for us," she murmured, her eyes glazed with pleasure. "Take all of me⊠just like a good little brother should."
As Kazuha neared her release, she tangled her fingers in your hair, yanking you closer until your face was pressed against her soaked heat. A shuddering gasp escaped her lips before turning into a breathy, desperate moan.
âFuckkâ! T-Take it all⊠donât you fucking dare pull away,â she whimpered, her thighs trembling as she rode out her high.
Her essence spilled over you, warm and relentless, coating your skin as the other sisters watched with dark delight. Laughter and whispers filled the air, their hungry gazes drinking in the sight of youâhelpless, drenched, and completely theirs.
Kazuhaâs grip was ruthless as she seized your face again, shoving you back onto the cold floor. Your wrists throbbed, skin raw from the restraints digging in, but none of them cared. Rei crouched beside you, her fingers trailing over the angry red marks with a mocking pout.
âThis is what happens to bad brothers,â she murmured, voice dripping with sickly sweetness. âYou shouldâve known better.â
You tried to scream for help, but before the sound could escape, Jo Yuri was already pressing a strip of tape over your lips. She smiled, tilting her head as she traced a finger along your cheek.
âGood boys stay quiet,â she whispered, her voice dripping with amusement.
Jo Yuri, though reveling in the punishment they were putting you through, was growing impatientâeager to claim her reward. Wasting no time, she rushed toward you, lowering herself onto your length with a slow, deliberate motion. At first, she moved cautiously, savoring the sensation, but it didnât take long before her pace quickened, her hunger becoming undeniable.
"Fuck, you feel so good,â Jo Yuri moaned, her voice dripping with satisfaction.
Your mind and body were already betraying you, blurring the lines between resistance and surrender. No matter how much you wanted to fight it, the pleasure was overpoweringâforcing you to forget, even for a moment, that these seven had turned your own apartment into a prison. And now, lost in the heat of the moment, you couldnât ignore the way one of your sisters wrapped around you so perfectly.
Ryujin and Miyeon knelt beside you, their gazes dark with possession as they claimed ownership over you. Ryujinâs fingers traced along your jaw before gripping it tightly, forcing you to meet her eyes.
âYouâre ours now,â she murmured, her voice laced with dangerous sweetness. âIf you even think about disobeying, weâll make your life a living hell.â
Miyeon leaned in, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, âAnd you wonât tell a single soul about what happened here. Not unless you want things to get even worse.â
All the while, Jo Yuri shifted her position, moving back in front of you without ever slowing her relentless pace, her eyes locked onto yours with a dangerous gleam.
Lisa scoffed, her grip tightening as she leaned in closer. âYouâll never have a girlfriend,â she said, her voice dripping with possessiveness. âIf you ever want to be with someone, it should be with usâyour step-sisters. Only us. No one else.â
She smiled, but there was nothing sweet about it. âAny other woman who tries to take you away? She wonât live to see another day.â
Jo Yuri then quickened her pace, sensing just how close you were. This time, there was no holding backâit was inevitable. A wicked smile curled on her lips as she turned to the others.
âHeâs about to cum,â she announced, her voice laced with excitement.
Without hesitation, she lifted herself off you, replacing the sensation with the warmth of her mouth. The rest of your sisters watched hungrily, biting their lips, tongues teasingly sticking out as they eagerly waited for your release.
It only took a few strokes before pleasure crashed over you. Your body tensed, and despite the tape sealing your lips, a desperate, muffled moan escapedâ
âMmmphâ! HaaahâŠ!â
Your climax spilled onto their expectant faces, their delighted giggles filling the room as they licked away every drop, satisfied with their claimed prize.
The sisters, now satisfied with their work, slowly removed the restraints from your wrists and peeled the tape from your mouth. But it didnât matterâyou were too weak to move, your body completely drained.
As you lay there, trying to catch your breath, one of them leaned in with a smug smile.
âWeâll be moving in tomorrow,â Miyeon announced casually, as if it were already decided. âSo make sure no one else comes here. This place belongs to us nowâjust like you do.
The sisters slipped back into their clothes, their satisfied smiles lingering as they slowly made their way out of your apartment. But Ryujin stayed behind, her eyes locked onto your exhausted form.
She crouched beside you, brushing a few strands of hair from your face before whispering, âThereâll be more moments like this⊠whether you like it or not.â
Pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, her hand trailed downward, fingers wrapping around your sensitive length. She gave it a slow, teasing stroke, her smirk widening.
She watched you with a wicked glint in her eyes, savoring the way your body twitched under her touch.
âCome on,â she coaxed, her voice sultry and commanding. âBe a good boy and cum for meâright now.â
She pumped faster, her thumb teasing over your most sensitive spot, determined to wring out every last drop. âI donât have all night,â she whispered against your ear. âSo give me everything before I go⊠unless you want the others to join in.â
With one last stroke, she pushed you over the edge, a satisfied smirk on her lips as she finally pulled away. Without another word, she stood up, adjusted her clothes, and walked outâleaving you panting, drained, and completely at their mercy.
As the last of your step-sisters walked out, the apartment fell silent, save for the lingering scent of them in the air. Your body was sore, your wrists still red from where they had bound you, yet the worst part wasnât the painâit was the realization that this wasnât over.
They had made that clear.
Tomorrow, they would return. Tomorrow, they would move in. Tomorrow, your life would no longer be your own.
You lay there, staring at the ceiling, your mind racing. Could you escape? Call for help? But even as the thoughts formed, you knew the truthâthere was no running from them. They had already decided. You belonged to them.
And deep down, despite everything, your body shivered at the thought.
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Goodbye, My Lover | Part 1 | The Pitt
Pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot x Dr. (Ex-Mil)!Reader x Dr. Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch
Chapter 1: I Love You


Synopsis: You and Jack survived the horrors of war together. But when the dust settled, you realised that coming home and going back to the way things used to be were two very different things. Though you and Jack parted ways romantically, the bond you shared remained, shaped by a past neither of you could forget. With Robby, it was different. Loving him was easy and he loved you deeply in return. But when Robby walked away, haunted by his own unresolved pain, your world shattered. Still, you continued to show up - for your patients, your colleagues and somehow for yourself. Until a patient presents with injuries that mirror your own past trauma and the unspoken tension between you, Jack and Robby resurfaces, threatening to unravel everything youâve tried to move past.
Warnings: Age gap is around 18 years. This series will deal with some heavy themes around a physical attack, death, grief, ptsd, panic attacks, s*icidal tendencies and heartbreak >>> Girlies this will be super sad,,,with some comfort at the end, I promise
Word count: 1079
A/n: The Pitt and our saddest boys have literally pulled me out of tumblr retirement!! If love triangles aren't your thing, I apologize in advance... Couldn't decide between the two, now they're both the reader's exes... Bon appétit.
Next Chapter (2): Please Forgive Me
Your breaths are ragged, uneven. You try to steady yourself on the gurney, but everything feels unreal. Desperate, you search for something to anchor you in reality. You glance down at your hands. They look strange, pressing into the patientâs chest in a rhythm you know all too well.
A familiar voice cuts through the haze, but you donât react.
The voice comes again, "Y/N?"
âFuck, Robby! Iâve got it okay?!â You snap, your hands moving on autopilot.
Shit. You really didnât mean that.
A few faint gasps from the staff break the silence. Itâs like youâve been ripped out of a nightmare. Robby used to do that, be your lifeline when the terrors threatened to pull you under.
You huff a shaky breath, searching his eyes for something, though you're not sure what. But you find it. He doesnât say anything, yet somehow, comfort floods you. And guilt, so much guilt.
Robby steps closer, arms crossed, pressing his lips together before he tries again. Softer, like a whisper in the night, "Are we ready to call it?"
The question snaps you back to the present. "No. No!" You share a quick glance with Jack, who is working the patient with you.
"Okay. Hold compressions", Robby says gently, but firm.
You comply, everyone's eyes fixed on the monitor, dread setting in.
"Still in asystole", you hear Donnie behind you.
Jack motions for you to switch out. You step back and he resumes.
"Letâs push one more round of epi", you beg, eyes bouncing between Jack and Robby.
Robby nods. Mateo pushes another amp, as you take over compressions for another round.
Robby checks his watch. "Thatâs it. Stop compressions", a familiar sadness in his voice.
You comply eventually, but cannot bring yourself to look up.
The air is thick, suffocating.
Jack calls it, knowing you can't. "Time of death, 12:36".
A breath escapes you that you didnât realize you were holding. You look at the woman lying before you and see yourself.
Still. Sleeping. Almost peaceful, if it werenât for the tube down her throat. Gently, you touch her hand. "Iâm so sorry", you whisper.
"Why donât we take a minute and then debrief with Kiara?", Robby suggests. The nurses and techs leave the room quietly.
You stay, frozen. Jack and Robby donât move either.
"I can do the notification, Y/N...", Robby offers softly.
"I'll do it", you counter too harshly.
Robby and Jack exchange a look. You pretend you donât see it.
Jack opens the door to the family room, holding it as you step inside cautiously, Robby following behind. You all sit, facing the husband of your deceased patient.
The weight of what youâre about to say hangs heavy in the air. You wait, just one more minute, as if delaying it could change the outcome.
You study the husband's eyes: fear, hope, maybe both. Every movement feels deliberate. You're about to shatter this man's world. And he will hate you for it.
You begin to speak, your words soft and measured.
Dana watches you through the glass doors. The husband's sobs echo through the hallway, the sound raw and aching.
"Do you think she was-" The husband can't finish the thought.
"Scared?" You ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
He hesitates, then nods.
"No", you answer gently.
You feel Jack and Robbyâs eyes on you, their sadness palpable. You donât look at them, but the image of Robby is burned into your mind. The lines on his forehead deepening, his eye twitching at the painful memory, his jaw tight as if holding back words he canât say.
Jack is harder to ignore. You feel the weight of his gaze, heavy and familiar, like a silent plea for forgiveness. You remember how his lips press together, the corners of his mouth pulling downward, like heâs exhaling a grief too big to contain. You've seen him break and mend over the years, unaware of the love he still carries for you.
You lean in, your voice soft: "I believe she thought about her loved ones. How much you made her laugh with your silly jokes. How she loved you and how deeply you loved her in return."
The husband lets out a strangled sob. He tries hard to keep it in, but it escapes anyway. "I don't know..."
You pause.
"I do."
He meets your gaze and it hits him.
Somehow, him realising that you're speaking from experience triggers something buried deep inside you.
Your pulse quickens, your vision blurs. You excuse yourself with a smile that doesnât quite reach your eyes. "Our social worker, Kiara, will talk to you about the next steps. Again, Iâm so very sorry."
Jack and Robby watch you leave, grief and guilt washing over them all over again.
You just need to be somewhere else, away from their eyes, away from the memories.
Your confession still hangs heavy in the air. Robby and Jack donât speak, thereâs nothing to say, only the fear creeping in that something isnât right.
They exchange a brief look before moving in sync towards the stairwell, urgency in their steps, knowing the one place you go when the world feels too heavy, when you need to breathe.
But when they open the door to the roof, the air is empty. No familiar figure standing behind the railing, staring out at the city. Just the harsh wind and the distant noise of the world below.
Robby's eyes dart across the rooftop, taking in the emptiness. His chest tightens, panic rising, âSheâs not here.â
Jack's thoughts spiral back to the moment they saw you leave the room. The confession. The look in your eyes. The sudden shift in your energy, the weight of something you hadnât shared before.
Robby rushes towards the railing, peeking over the edge. He doesnât want to entertain the possibility, but the image of you disappearing over the ledge flashes in his mind and for a moment, it paralyzes him.
"Robby, stop", Jack's voice is sharp, his eyes scan the space around them, desperately looking for anything that makes sense. But he can't bring himself to look over the edge. He wonât. Not yet.
Jack's been through this with you before, he's seen you at your lowest. And vice versa. But tonight, something's different.
âWhere would she go?â Robby asks, voice barely a whisper, now full of dread.
"She wouldnât just leave. Not like this." Jack's voice trembles, trying to convince himself more than Robby.
Thanks for reading hehe. Hope you enjoyed this first chapter. It's pretty heavy, but sets the tone for the rest of the series. Pls come back for Chapter 2: Please Forgive Me
PS: Lmk if you want to be added to the taglist. âĄ
#also this is obviously not taking place during The Pitt timeline#the pitt max#the pitt#michael robinavitch x reader#jack abbot#dr robby#dr robby x reader#dr michael robinavitch#dr michael robinavitch x reader#dr michael robinavitch x you#the pitt hbo#jack abbott#jack abbot x reader#jack abbott x reader#dr robby x you#noah wyle#shawn hatosy
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Eren is cock drunk
pairing - Eren x fem!Reader
Rating: mature (18+)
Content/Trigger Warnings: smut
The air in the room hung thick, heavy with the scent of sweat and sex, a primal musk that clung to every breath. The two you have been going at it rabbits. Eren couldn't get enough of you. The way your cunt shaped his cock. The way your pussy swallowed his cock. He loved it. His green eyes burned with a feral hunger, locked onto you like you were the only thing tethering him to sanity.
"Eren please!" you whimpered. You were gripping Eren's bed for dear life. Your legs were shaking and your body was warm.
" C'mon baby you can take it." Eren's fingers dipped in the fat of your thighs as he held a tight grip on your legs to keep you from escaping his trap. Eren loomed over you, his broad shoulders glistening with a sheen of perspiration, dark brown hair plastered messily across his forehead.
His cock was constantly hitting your g spot making you feel shivers down your spine. '"Fuuuck- feel so good baby." A thick, creamy white ribbon coiled tightly around the base of his throbbing cock, glistening under the dim light. Eren watched the faces you made as he thrusted harder. Your fingers had become instruments of pure, unadulterated pleasure.
"Fuck," he growled, voice rough and low, scraping against the silence like gravel. "You're unreal, you know that?" His calloused hands gripped your neck with his other dangerously close to your soaked pussy. His cock was digging into your soft walls as he spread you wider.
His movements were raw, needy, like a man possessed. He shifted his hips, the head of his cock nudging against your entrance again, slick with your juices and his own cum from the last round. "Look at you-taking me so fucking good. This cunt's mine, yeah?"
The bed creaked beneath his weight as he leaned in, one hand sliding up to brace himself against the headboard, wood groaning under his grip. His other hand stayed on you, tracing the curve of your hip before slipping down to rub slow, deliberate circles over your swollen clit. He watched your reaction with a smirk, lips curling as he drank in every twitch, every shudder. "Can't get enough of this," he muttered, almost to himself, his thumb pressing harder, coaxing out a fresh gush of wetness that made his cock twitch in response. "So fucking wet for me-shit, you're perfect."
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The Golden Oath

- Summary: The lion falls in love with the daughter of the Mad King, which starts a domino effect that eventually collapses the realm onto itself.
- Pairing: targ!reader/Jaime Lannister
- Note: So, here is the first chapter. Let me know what you think and if you want to be tagged in future chapters.
- Rating: Mature 16+
- Next part: closer
- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @idenyimimdenial
The Red Keep was not what it once had been in Tywin Lannisterâs youth. In his early years, he had walked these halls with the knowledge that the seat of kings was an extension of his will, where lords whispered his name in awe and deference. Yet now, as he strode through the familiar corridors, the air itself felt differentâstifling, thick with the scent of incense and perfumed oils meant to mask the creeping decay of a court in decline. The torches burned high, but the shadows stretched long, and for all the banners of black and red draped across the stone walls, there was something sinister lurking beneath the surface, something just beyond his grasp.
Jaime could feel it, too. His fatherâs stride was unyielding, his presence commanding, but there was a tension in his shoulders that had not been there when they had last left Kingâs Landing. Tywin had never been a man given to weakness, yet even he could not conceal the way his gaze sharpened with every turn, watching, waiting. Aerys II sat the throne still, and though he remained clothed in all the splendor of his office, there were whispers of his growing instability. They were only rumors, but rumors had a way of rotting the foundations of power.
Still, they had come at his command. Aerys had summoned them, and so here they were, Jaime and Cersei walking side by side through the grand hall that led to the throne room, the towering doors of oak and iron looming before them. It had been years since their last visit, and though Jaime had been but a boy when they had left court, his memories of this place had not faded. He remembered the way the light caught on the polished marble floors, the way the banners rippled in the drafts that crept through the halls. And he remembered the Targaryens.
He had not seen Rhaegar since the prince had been a young man barely out of boyhood, and now the crown prince stood as a vision of Valyrian majesty, his silver hair glinting in the dim light, his indigo gaze steady and unreadable. He was every inch the figure of a legend, and yet it was not Rhaegar who made Jaime pause mid-step, a strange tightness winding in his chest.
It was you.
You stood beside your brother in a gown of deep violet, the color rich against the porcelain glow of your skin. The candlelight flickered over the curve of your cheek, casting shifting patterns along the soft slope of your jaw, the delicate bridge of your nose. Your pale lashes swept downward, the color so light that they nearly disappeared against your skin, but your eyesâthose were unmistakable. Indigo, like Rhaegarâs, yet softer, deeper, like the sky at the cusp of twilight, full of something that was neither innocence nor mischief, but a quiet, knowing sort of serenity.
Jaime had not seen you since you had been a girl of six, a slip of a thing with wide, wondering eyes and a voice that carried like a songbirdâs call through the halls of the Red Keep. He had almost forgotten you in the years that passed, the memory of you tucked away among all the others that had faded into the background of his childhood. Yet now, standing in the presence of the royal family once more, he found himself staring, his pulse beating just a little too quickly.
You were beautiful.
Not in the way that Cersei was beautiful, all golden fire and biting, smoldering edges, but in a way that was unreal, almost dreamlike. There was something about you that made him feel as if he were gazing upon a vision, a creature not meant for the world of men, but for the old stories whispered in the dark, of dragon princesses and ethereal queens who could steal the breath from a manâs lips with nothing more than a glance.
And it was just a glance.
Your gaze flickered over him only briefly before moving past, as though you had not even noticed his presence at all. Jaime felt his stomach twist, something uncomfortably close to disappointment gnawing at his ribs, but he forced it down. He was not a boy any longer, not some lovesick fool to be undone by the sight of a girl, even if that girl wasâ
"Lord Tywin."
The king's voice cut through the silence like the edge of a blade, drawing all eyes toward the Iron Throne. Aerys sat slouched upon the blackened steel, his long fingers drumming lazily against the armrest. His hair was the same shade of silver as Rhaegarâs, but where the princeâs bore the luster of molten light, the kingâs was thin, brittle, hanging in wisps about his face. His violet eyes burned too brightly, wide and restless, darting between Tywin and the twins at his side with a sharpness that set Jaime on edge.
"You have returned," Aerys mused, his lips curling slightly, though there was no humor in it. "It has been far too long since I have seen your children." His gaze flickered to Cersei, lingering, then shifted to Jaime. "And my, how they have grown. How fine a pair they make, do they not, Rhaella?"
Queen Rhaella sat rigid beside him, her expression unreadable, but she nodded. "Yes, Your Grace."
Aerys hummed, leaning forward. "You must forgive me, Lord Tywin. It has been too long since I last laid eyes upon them. They are nearly as fair as my own brood." His lips curled again, and for the briefest moment, Jaime thought he saw something dark in his gaze. "Your daughter, Tywinâshe is the very image of her mother. A pity Joanna is not here to see her."
Cerseiâs jaw tensed, but she did not speak. Tywin inclined his head. "Your Grace is too kind."
"And your son," Aerys went on, his gaze turning to Jaime now, the weight of it pressing against him like something tangible. "Jaime Lannister." He let the name roll over his tongue as if savoring the taste. "You wish to be accepted into Kingsguard one day, are you not?"
Jaime swallowed, straightening. "If it pleases Your Grace."
The king laughed. It was a sharp, grating sound, like steel scraping over stone. "Oh, it would please me greatly," he said, his eyes glinting. "A Lannister in whiteâhow it would wound you, would it not, Tywin? To see your son sworn to me, his sword mine alone?"
Tywin did not flinch. "If that is what Your Grace desires."
Aerys smiled, but there was no warmth in it. He leaned back against the throne, his fingers drumming once more. "Yes," he murmured. "Yes, I think I would like that very much."
Jaime felt Cersei stiffen beside him, her fingers curling at her sides. He did not dare glance at her, nor at his father, though he could feel the weight of Tywinâs fury like a storm gathering in the distance. Instead, he let his gaze wander once moreâpast the throne, past the lords and courtiers watching the exchange with veiled interestâuntil it found you again.
You had not moved from Rhaegarâs side, your hands folded neatly before you, your posture poised, serene. You were not watching him, nor his father, nor even the king. Your gaze was cast downward, your expression unreadable. But as the torches flickered and the shadows shifted, Jaime could not help but think that for the briefest moment, you had been watching him, too.
The great hall of the Red Keep was alive with the murmurs of courtiers and the flickering of torchlight, yet none of it seemed to touch Tywin Lannister. He moved through the gathered nobility with the assurance of a man who commanded the world with a glance, his golden cloak trailing behind him like the banners of House Lannister itself. Jaime and Cersei followed closely, their expressions schooled into careful neutrality, though Jaime could feel the lingering weight of Aerysâs words pressing against his thoughts. The kingâs laughter, cutting and cruel, still echoed in his mind, but it was not the promise of the Kingsguard that unsettled himâit was the way Aerys had looked at his father, at Cersei, at him. There had been something dangerous in his gaze, something that made Jaimeâs stomach twist in a way he did not like.
They did not go farâonly to a quiet alcove tucked away from the main chamber, where the marble walls dampened the sound of the courtâs endless hum. Tywin turned on his heel, his stern green eyes sweeping over his children, his expression unreadable save for the ever-present weight of expectation. A silence settled between them, thick with something unspoken, before he finally spoke.
"You have seen them now," he said, his voice low but firm. "Rhaegar and his sister."
Jaime swallowed. He had seen them. He had seen her.
Cersei tilted her chin upward, her golden hair catching in the dim light. "Rhaegar is handsome," she said, the words carefully measured, as though already crafting how she would speak of him to others. "More than that, he carries himself like a true prince should. He will be king one day."
Tywin gave a short nod. "And he will need a queen." His gaze lingered on her, sharp with meaning. "You are to conduct yourself accordingly."
"I will," Cersei promised, her voice smooth, her eyes gleaming. There was something hungry in her expressionâJaime had seen it before, though never quite like this. It was not just ambition; it was desire. Cersei had always spoken of queenship as though it was her birthright, but there was something new in the way she spoke of Rhaegar, something that made Jaime uneasy.
Tywin turned his gaze to him then, and Jaime straightened under his scrutiny. "And you," his father continued, voice steady as stone, "will do the same with his sister."
Jaime felt something in his chest tighten. His sister. He had barely even spoken to you, had only caught fleeting glances, and yet his mind had already conjured a thousand versions of you in those few momentsâthe way the candlelight glowed against your pale skin, the way your indigo eyes seemed to hold entire worlds within them, the way your very presence had made the air around him feel heavier, richer.
"You mean to wed us to them," Jaime said, though it was not truly a question.
Tywin's lips pressed together. "That has been my intent since you were children."
Jaime exhaled slowly. It had not been a secret, of course. He had known, even as a boy, that his father had always wanted a Targaryen match. But knowing something and standing face to face with the reality of it were two different things entirely. It was one thing to imagine a political union, to think of a Targaryen princess as a distant concept, a title without a face. But you were no concept. You were real, standing in that great hall beside Rhaegar, as unattainable as a dream and yet suddenly within his reach.
"And the king?" Cersei asked, her voice carefully neutral. "Will he agree?"
Tywinâs expression did not shift, but there was something colder in his gaze now, something calculating. "Aerys is a fool," he said bluntly. "And a foolâs whims can be unpredictable. I will speak with him in time, but it would serve us well if you both make yourselves⊠indispensable to his children."
Jaime understood the meaning behind his words instantly. He did not simply want them to be agreeable matchesâhe wanted them to be wanted. If Rhaegar and you favored them, if the royal children themselves expressed desire for the matches, Aerys would have little reason to refuse. Aerys had always been possessive over his family, jealous of their affections, but he was also vain. If Rhaegar wished for Cersei, if you wished for himâJaimeâs stomach tightened at the thoughtâthen even the kingâs paranoia might not be enough to stand in the way.
Cersei smiled then, the expression small but satisfied. "That will not be difficult."
Tywinâs gaze flickered toward her, measuring her confidence, but he did not contradict her. He turned back to Jaime. "You will conduct yourself as a man of your station. You will speak when it is necessary and hold your tongue when it is not. You will not grovel, nor will you posture. You will be clever. You will be interesting."
Jaime let out a slow breath. "And if I fail to be those things?"
His fatherâs eyes narrowed slightly. "You will not."
Jaime met his gaze for a moment longer before looking away. He was fourteen, still a boy in many ways, but never had he felt the weight of expectation so acutely. The thought of winning a girlâs favor was not foreign to himâhe had seen how the ladies at Casterly Rock and Lannisport whispered and giggled when he passed. But you were not some noble girl, nor a lady of his fatherâs court. You were a Targaryen. You were her. And suddenly, the idea of winning you felt not like a challenge, but an impossibility.
Still, Tywin Lannister did not believe in impossibilities.
Jaime swallowed whatever doubts lingered in his throat and nodded.
Cersei exhaled through her nose, the hint of a smirk playing at her lips. "And what of Aerys? Will he let Rhaegar have a wife that is not of his choosing?"
Tywinâs expression did not change, but Jaime thought he saw a flicker of something dark in his fatherâs gaze. "The kingâs favor is not what it once was. His mind rots with each passing year." He straightened. "It is Rhaegar who will rule, and when he does, he will need loyal hands around him. If he favors you, Cersei, then that is what matters. And if his sister favors Jaimeâ"
Jaimeâs pulse quickened.
"âthen all the better."
A silence stretched between them. The hall beyond the alcove was still alive with murmurs and laughter, the ever-present hum of politics and ambition that never truly faded in Kingâs Landing. But in that quiet space, Jaime felt the weight of his fatherâs will settle over him like a mantle.
You had barely even seen him, had barely even looked at him. And yet, before the night was through, before he even truly knew you, he had been given a task he was not certain he could fulfill.
He had to make you want him.
And the thought alone sent something cold and unfamiliar through his veins.
The gardens of the Red Keep were bathed in the golden light of morning, the first warmth of the sun spilling through the carved archways and casting dappled shadows across the stone paths. The scent of myrtle and orange blossoms hung in the air, sweet and thick, mingling with the salt of the distant sea. Jaime had always thought Kingâs Landing smelled of too many things at onceâsweat, smoke, rotâbut here, in this secluded part of the castle, the stench of the city did not reach. Here, the air was still. Quiet.
It was not difficult to find them.
He and Cersei moved through the garden paths with practiced ease, the rustle of their fine silks barely disturbing the morning peace. The sounds of the court had not yet spilled into the open spaces, leaving only the soft trill of birds and the murmur of voices beyond the flowering hedges. And then, as they rounded a curve in the path, the voices became clearer.
You were with Rhaegar.
The prince stood beneath the shade of a slender lemon tree, his silver hair catching the early light, his posture at ease in a way Jaime had rarely seen in men of his station. He was dressed in dark violet, the fine weave of his tunic unmistakable even from a distance, and though his face was unreadable, his voiceâsoft, thoughtfulâheld something close. Something warm.
You stood beside him, only inches away.
Jaime felt it firstâthe quick, sharp pulse at his throat, the sudden tension in his shouldersâas he watched the way Rhaegar touched you.
It was nothing improper, nothing that would scandalize the court, and yet it was⊠intimate. A brief brush of his fingers against your sleeve as he spoke, a slight tilt of his head in your direction, as if drawn to you as naturally as the tide is drawn to shore. And youâ
You were looking up at him, your indigo eyes catching the morning light like polished gems, and you were smiling. A small, secret thing, the kind of smile that seemed meant for him alone.
Jaime had never seen her smile before.
For a fleeting moment, something inside him tightened, an unfamiliar weight settling in his chest. Was this how it was always to be? He had barely spoken to you, and already Rhaegar stood at your side, silver in the morning light, his presence enough to make you soften. To make you laugh.
He almost hated him for it.
Cersei, ever attuned to the smallest shifts in a room, must have noticed as well. Her pace slowed beside him, her green eyes narrowing slightly as she took in the scene before them. Then, as if shaking off whatever thoughts lingered in her mind, she lifted her chin and strode forward.
"Your Grace," she said smoothly, her voice carrying through the garden with the practiced ease of a woman who had spent her entire life perfecting her presence. "Princess."
The moment shattered.
Rhaegar turned first, his gaze settling on them, the warmth that had lingered in his face cooling into something more composed. His hand fell back to his side, slipping away from the fabric of your sleeve as though the touch had never been there at all. You followed his motion, turning to face them fully, and Jaime had only a moment to truly look at youâto see you.
You were dressed in the softest shades of lilac, the color subtle against the pale glow of your skin. The embroidery along your sleeves shimmered faintly, Valyrian patterns woven into the silk with a hand so delicate it was nearly invisible unless one looked closely. Your hair, silver as starlight, had been loosely pinned, allowing strands to slip free in the breeze.
Jaime had spent years imagining what you would look like grownâif you would still have the wide, wondering eyes of the girl he had once known, if you would still hold that same unearthly presence that seemed to belong more to a dream than to the waking world.
You were nothing like he remembered.
And yet, somehow, you were exactly as he had imagined.
"Lady Cersei. Lord Jaime," Rhaegar greeted them with a nod, his voice polite but absent of the warmth it had held only moments ago. "It has been some time."
"Too long," Cersei agreed, stepping forward with the ease of a woman born to this kind of encounter. "We were children when we last saw each other, but I am pleased to see time has only been kind to you, Your Grace."
A flicker of amusement passed through Rhaegarâs eyes, brief but present. "Time is not always so kind. But I thank you for the sentiment."
Jaime barely heard them.
His attention was fixed on you.
You had not spoken, not yet, but your gaze had settled on him now, studying him in a way that was both careful and unhurried. There was no immediate recognition in your expression, but neither was there indifference. Curiosity, perhaps. Or something softer.
"You do not remember us, do you?" Cerseiâs voice was lighter now, teasing. "Or at least not well."
Your lips parted slightly, as if tasting the words before speaking them. "I remember you," you said at last, your voice quiet but smooth, like the lilt of a song yet to be sung. Then, after a small pause, your gaze flickered to Jaime. "And you as well."
Jaime felt his breath catch, though he did not let it show.
Cersei let out a soft laugh. "I hope your memories are fond ones."
Your head tilted slightly, as if considering the question, and thenâa smile.
"They are," you said simply.
Jaime did not know what he had expected. He had imagined your voice a thousand times, had thought of what it might sound like when spoken to him. He had thought he was prepared.
He had not been.
A movement at the edge of his vision drew his attention, and he turned slightly to see Ser Barristan Selmy standing a short distance away, his face unreadable as he observed the exchange. A quiet, constant presence, watching.
Protecting.
Jaime knew, then, that this momentâthis conversation, this fleeting breath of timeâwas not truly his. It belonged to Rhaegar, to you, to the threads of fate already weaving their pattern around them. He was an intruder in something far greater than himself, a pawn in a game he had not yet learned to play.
And yetâyou had remembered him.
A small, insignificant thing. But Jaime was not sure why it suddenly meant so much.
The small council had been dismissed, the great doors of the chamber closing behind the last of the departing lords, leaving only Tywin Lannister and King Aerys II within. The room was bathed in the dim glow of the torches along the walls, their flames flickering against the polished wood of the long table, casting shifting specters that stretched toward the gilded seat where Aerys lounged.
Tywin stood before him, every inch the composed and calculating Hand of the King, his expression schooled into perfect neutrality. The scent of parchment and ink still lingered in the air, mingling with the faintest trace of the oils and perfumes that had been used to mask the sickly-sweet scent of rot that seemed to cling to the Red Keep more and more with each passing year.
Aerys had not yet spoken.
The king sat reclined in his chair, his long fingers drumming idly against the carved armrests, his violet eyes half-lidded in something that might have been boredom or amusementâor something darker. His silver hair, once immaculate, had begun to thin, the strands hanging limp against the gaunt hollows of his cheeks. He had not always looked like this.
Tywin knew that well enough.
But the years had changed him. The whispers had changed him. The paranoia had settled into his bones like a sickness, creeping into his thoughts, turning his once-sharp mind into something that wavered between brilliance and madness.
And yet, this was still Aerys. Still the man he had served since youth. Still the king of the Seven Kingdoms.
Tywin had waited patiently, knowing better than to rush him. And at last, after a long silence, Aerys spoke.
"You linger, my old friend," he murmured, his lips curling slightly as his gaze flickered to Tywin. "What is it that you wish from me? I doubt you remained behind simply to enjoy my company."
Tywin did not smile. "I wished to discuss the future of your royal children, Your Grace."
Aerys let out a soft hm, his fingers stilling against the chair. "Ah, yes," he mused. "The lion always has something to offer."
Tywin inclined his head. "It is no secret that Rhaegar will need a queen," he said, his voice measured, careful. "And your daughter, a husband of suitable station."
Aerys exhaled through his nose, a sound that might have been a laugh if not for the sharpness beneath it. "Come now, Tywin," he drawled, his violet gaze gleaming. "Do you truly think me so simple? I expected this." His fingers twitched slightly. "You seek to offer Cersei to Rhaegar, just as you did before."
Tywin gave nothing away, neither at the reminder of Aerysâs earlier refusal nor at the amusement that danced behind the kingâs words. "It would be a union of benefit to the realm," he stated, his voice calm. "Cersei is beautiful, well-bred, and clever. She would be a queen worthy of him."
Aerysâs smile was sharp. "You mean she would be a queen worthy of you."
Tywin held his gaze steadily. "I mean she would be a queen who would bring strength to the realmâand to House Targaryen."
Aerys chuckled then, leaning forward slightly. "And what of the girl?" His head tilted just so, the light catching in his irises, making them gleam like polished amethysts. "What of my daughter? You would see her married off to your cub?"
Tywin did not allow himself to hesitate. "Jaime is young, but he is my heir," he said evenly. "He will one day rule Casterly Rock, and there is no greater seat for your daughter than the Westerlands."
Aerys made a small noise in his throat, something between interest and disdain. "So eager you are, Tywin. But tell meâdoes Jaime himself share your ambitions?"
Tywin did not react outwardly, but something in Aerysâs tone made the air between them grow heavier, the words laced with something unspoken.
"He is young," Tywin said, his voice cool. "He dreams of knighthood, of glory, as boys do. But he will learn that true power does not lie in tourneys or oaths. His duty is to his house, to his legacy. And in time, he will see that his place is not as some wandering knight, but as the Lord of the Rock."
Aerys was quiet for a long moment.
Too quiet.
And Tywin knew this silence.
It was the silence that came before Aerysâs moods shiftedâthe silence that had begun appearing more and more over the last year, the precursor to his unpredictability, his paranoia.
When he finally spoke, Aerysâs voice was softer, but there was something sinister beneath it, something almost dangerous.
"You overstep, Tywin."
Tywin remained still. "I seek only what is best for the realm, Your Grace."
Aerys let out a breathâa slow, measured breath. And then he laughed. It was not a true laugh, not one of mirth, but something hollow, something edged. He shook his head slightly, as if amused by some private joke.
"The lion reaches, always reaching," he mused, the flicker of a smile on his lips. "You would love that, wouldnât you? To see your golden children bound to mine. To see them rise, to see them elevated." His voice lowered, his fingers curling against the chairâs armrest. "To make your daughter queen. To make your son the husband of a Targaryen princess."
Tywin did not move, but he could feel the weight of Aerysâs gaze pressing against him.
"You have always been a proud man, Tywin," Aerys murmured, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Proud enough to think you are owed such things. But do not forgetâyou serve me."
A pause.
"And I am not yet so old that I have forgotten what happens to men who reach too far."
The words hung between them like a blade, the meaning clear.
Tywinâs jaw tightened slightly, but his expression did not waver. He had seen Aerysâs temper before, had endured his outbursts, his jests laced with venom, his sudden shifts from affection to suspicion. He knew how to navigate him.
He would not pushânot now.
Instead, he inclined his head. "I serve at your pleasure, Your Grace."
Aerys studied him for a long moment, his fingers still curled, his eyes still bright with something unreadable.
Then, as suddenly as it had come, the tension in his posture eased. His lips curved upward, though the smile did not reach his eyes.
"Yes," he murmured. "You do."
And with that, the audience was over.
Tywin turned and strode from the chamber, his steps measured, his expression impassive.
But beneath it all, something had shifted.
And he knewâhe had seen it in Aerysâs eyes.
The king had already decided something.
And Tywin would be damned if he did not uncover what.
The scent of myrtle and citrus lingered in the air as Jaime and Cersei moved away from the Targaryen royals, their departure marked only by the soft rustling of silks and the fading sound of Cerseiâs carefully measured farewell. It had been a successful meetingâat least in her eyes.
As they stepped further down the stone path, passing through the arching trellises heavy with climbing roses, Cersei released a slow breath, a small, pleased smile tugging at her lips.
"That went well," she murmured, her voice rich with satisfaction.
Jaime barely heard her.
His mind was still there, lingering in the gardens, where the dappled light had painted shifting patterns across the silk of your gown, where your indigo eyes had met his and held. He had thought about what you might look like for years, about what kind of woman you had become, but no amount of imagining had prepared him for the reality of you.
You were beautiful in the way that the dawn was beautifulâsomething soft, untouched, and entirely out of reach.
His chest felt tight.
Cersei turned to him, her green eyes gleaming with barely contained excitement. "Rhaegar is everything I thought he would be," she continued, a touch of hunger in her voice. "He isâ" she exhaled, her lips curling, "âperfect."
Jaime forced himself to listen, his jaw tightening.
"He was polite," he said simply.
Cersei let out a soft laugh. "Polite? Jaime, he was more than that." She stopped, turning fully to face him, golden hair catching in the morning light. "You saw how he looked at me. He noticed me."
Jaime hesitated.
Had he?
Rhaegar had been courteous. That was his nature. His words had been pleasant, his gaze steady, his posture measured. He had not been cold, but neither had he been anything more. Jaime had watched him closely, searching for some sign of interest, some flicker of intrigue in the princeâs indigo gazeâbut he had found nothing that could not be dismissed as simple courtly manners.
And yetâCersei believed it.
"He was polite," Jaime repeated.
Cerseiâs expression darkened slightly, but she let out a breath and shook her head. "You have no sense for these things," she muttered, turning away and beginning to walk again, her skirts swaying with each step. "I have spent my life preparing for this moment, Jaime. He will see me. He will come to want me."
Jaime did not reply.
Because his thoughts were not on Rhaegar.
His thoughts were on you.
As they walked further from the gardens, he could not stop himself from glancing back, just once, to the spot where you and Rhaegar had stood beneath the shade of the lemon tree.
You were still there.
Jaimeâs steps faltered.
Rhaegar had turned back to you, his attention fully yours once more, and it was different nowâwarmer. More natural. The kind of ease that had not been present when he spoke to Cersei.
Jaime watched as the prince murmured something, his voice low, the words meant only for you. He saw the way your lips parted in response, the way your eyes flickered with something soft, something genuine. You did not laugh the way the ladies of court did when they wished to charm a man, did not tilt your head coyly or lower your lashes in feigned modesty. You simply smiled.
And Rhaegar smiled back.
Something hot and unfamiliar curled in Jaimeâs stomach.
It was an ugly feeling, one he did not know how to name.
He did not know what he had expectedâhe was not foolish enough to think he could step into your life after all these years and suddenly become the focus of your gaze, the recipient of your affections. You had known Rhaegar your entire life. He was your brother, your closest confidant. It was only natural that you would smile for him, that you would look at him with something gentle in your eyes.
And yetâwhy did it unsettle him so?
Cersei was still speaking beside him, but her words had become nothing more than a distant hum, drowned out by the pounding of his own pulse in his ears.
He had never felt this before.
Never.
The women at court whispered about him, admired him for his looks, for his name. They smiled too easily, touched his arm too often. But it had never mattered. He had never looked at them the way he had looked at you in that moment, standing beneath the lemon tree, bathed in morning light.
You had only spoken a handful of words to him.
And yet, he felt as if something inside him had shifted.
Something he could not push away.
Something he was not sure he wanted to push away.
The Lannisters were gone, their presence nothing more than a lingering whisper in the air, yet the garden still felt touched by themâby their ambitions, their careful words, the weight of what they had left unspoken. The gentle rustling of leaves and the faint trickle of the fountain filled the silence they left behind, the scent of citrus still clinging to the breeze.
Rhaegar did not move at first. He stood beside you, watching the path where Jaime and Cersei had disappeared, his expression contemplative, though his eyes held no surprise. There had been nothing unexpected in what had just transpired. It had been, as he might say, well placed.
You exhaled softly, tilting your head to look up at him. "That was⊠predictable."
His lips curled slightly, though there was little amusement in it. "It was well-placed conversation," he murmured, his voice calm, always calm.
"You mean it was orchestrated," you countered, your indigo gaze searching his, the meaning of your words lingering in the air. "We both knew what they wanted before a single word was spoken."
He let out a breath, slow and measured. "Yes," he admitted. "We did."
You lowered your gaze, fingers brushing lightly over the smooth bark of the lemon tree beside you. "Cersei was no surprise," you murmured, thoughtful. "Her eyes have been set on you since she was old enough to understand what a queen is."
Rhaegar hummed, though he did not confirm or deny the statement. He had always known. The weight of expectation pressed against his shoulders like a crown he had not yet worn, and Cersei Lannister had long envisioned herself at his side, her golden hair intertwined with the legacy of House Targaryen.
But that was not what lingered most in your thoughts.
"It is Jaime that surprises me," you said, your voice quieter now. "I thought he had ambitions for the Kingsguard."
Rhaegar turned to you fully then, his gaze softening, though there was something knowing in his expression. "He is still young," he reminded you. "And his fatherâs ambitions have never been a secret." He tilted his head slightly, studying you. "BesidesâŠ"
You glanced up at him as he trailed off. "Besides?"
Rhaegar was silent for a moment, as if weighing his words. Then, slowly, he smiled.
"I saw the way he looked at you," he said simply.
Your brows lifted slightly, but you did not immediately respond.
He continued, his voice light but knowing. "Jaime Lannister may still dream of glory and knighthood, but there is something else there now. He has spent his youth training with steel and chasing the glories of men, but today, for the first time, he looked at something he was not prepared for."
You blinked, your fingers stilling against the bark of the tree. "And what was that?"
Rhaegarâs gaze did not waver. "You."
There was no teasing in his voice, no jest. It was merely truth, spoken as plainly as the sky was blue.
You exhaled slowly, your gaze dropping for a brief moment before returning to his. "And if that is so?"
He smiled again, but this time there was something fond in it, something affectionate.
"Then I wonder if he even realizes it yet," he murmured.
A soft breath of laughter escaped you, and Rhaegar reached out then, his fingers brushing lightly against your sleeve, a familiar gesture, one you had known all your life. His touch was always gentle, never demanding, always warm.
"He is not like the others," he continued, his voice quieter now. "His father has sharpened him into something harder, something that should be unfeeling. But even steel has its weaknesses."
You tilted your head. "And you think I am one?"
Rhaegarâs lips curled slightly, though there was nothing mocking in it. "I think you are something unexpected. And men like Jaime Lannister are rarely prepared for things they do not expect."
The air between you was calm, steady, untouched by the weight of expectation that had followed the Lannisters into this space. With Rhaegar, there was never pretense. He had been your brother, your closest companion, your shield against the world since you were small, and even nowâwhen duty loomed ever closer, when the future threatened to shape you both into something neither of you had chosenâhe was still this.
Soft.
Steady.
Yours.
"You think too much," you murmured, tilting your chin slightly in mock accusation.
Rhaegar let out a soft chuckle, his long fingers lingering against the fabric of your sleeve for just a moment longer before falling away. "And you think too little," he countered, though there was no reprimand in it, only fondness.
You sighed, shaking your head with a small smile. "Perhaps we balance each other."
He did not deny it.
Instead, he reached up, gently tucking a stray silver strand behind your ear, his fingers brushing the warmth of your skin for only a heartbeat. The gesture was absent of hesitation, absent of thought, as natural as breathing.
And though Ser Barristan stood a short distance away, ever watchful, ever loyal, he said nothing.
Because this was not new.
This was Rhaegar.
This was you.
And the worldâits expectations, its demands, its whispers of Lannisters and alliances and dutyâcould wait.
For now.
#game of thrones#asoiaf#a song of ice and fire#got#got/asoiaf#asoiaf x reader#got x reader#got x you#got x y/n#the golden oath#got jaime#jaime lannister#house targaryen#house of the dragon#hotd#fire and blood#house lannister#jaime x reader#jaime x you#jaime x y/n#x reader
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đđ Calamitous Love.
Spencer Reid x BAU!reader
main masterlist


Summary: After an accident, many memories are wiped from your mind. Luckily, your fiancé is always by your side...but were you planning to break off the engagement before the accident?
Words: 3,7k.
Warnings & Tags: fem!reader. mention of injuries, serial killers, memory loss, traffic accident. SO bittersweet. angst with open ending. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).
Note: I am just like Matthew and sometimes I love to traumatize Spencer, Iâm sorry but I miss the one shots.
Spencer Reid was the perfect man. His bright brown eyes, warm and impossibly sincere, never lied. His thin lips had a special way of puckering when he thought too much, a telltale sign of his mind working through puzzles only he could solve. And his heart, the purest you had ever known, overflowed with kindness, empathy, and a love so profound it felt almost unreal. Spencer Reid was smart, brilliant beyond measure, with a mind that held an entire universe of knowledge. He could recite the most obscure facts with ease, analyze the most complex theories in seconds, and yet, the most precious thing about him was his willingness to learn how to love you the way you needed to be loved. He observed, listened, and adapted, making sure every touch, every word, and every glance was precisely what would make you feel cherished. Because Spencer Reid was everything anyone could wish to have, and yet, against all odds, you were the lucky one who had him.
You happily reminded yourself of that every single day as you looked down at your engagement ring, the one he had given you, a tangible reminder that he had chosen you just as wholeheartedly as you had chosen him, for a lifetime together.
When you thought of marriage to him, it wasnât just about the idea of forever. It was the depth of what that forever would mean. You remembered the moment he knelt before you, hands trembling slightly, asking the question youâd only ever dreamed of hearing. You didnât just picture him standing at the altar, waiting for you to approach in your beautiful dress. No, you thought about everything that would come after, how it would feel to swear to love each other through all of lifeâs trials, even beyond death. You imagined growing old by his side, sharing the quiet moments as the years went by, and how those ordinary moments would become extraordinary in his presence. You thought about starting a family, building a life together, and raising children in a home filled with the same love and devotion you had always dreamed of.
Together through thick and thin. That thought echoed in your mind, looping over and over as you slowly drifted back to consciousness. The first thing you registered was the dull ache spreading through your body, a heavy, lingering pain that made every breath feel just a little too sharp. The sterile scent of antiseptic flooded your senses, mixing with the faint, artificial coolness of the hospital air. The steady beeping of machines provided a rhythmic pulse to the silence. Blinking against the dim light, your gaze slowly adjusted to your surroundings. The faint glow of a monitor, the crisp white sheets draped over you, the IV taped to your arm. But none of it answered the one question that burned in your mind. What happened?
Then, your eyes found him.
Spencer.
He was curled up on the couch beside you, his head leaning against the backrest, his posture weighed down by exhaustion. His long limbs were awkwardly folded, his body hunched forward in a way that made it clear he hadnât moved in hours. Dark circles bruised the delicate skin beneath his eyes, and yet, even in sleep, he remained tethered to you. His fingers barely grazed the edge of your gurney, as if even unconscious, he needed to be close. Needed to feel you were still there.
Your gaze drifted lower, catching the soft gleam of metal on his finger. The engagement ring. A silent promise. A future you had once envisioned so clearly. And without thinking, you glanced at your own hand, expecting the comforting weight of your matching ring. But all you found was the sterile chill of the IV line taped to your skin. Your heart stuttered. A small, uneasy pit settled in your stomach. Where is it?
You looked up just as Spencer stirred, his body shifting as he slowly blinked awake. A groggy hand dragged across his face, fingers rubbing at his tired eyes in an attempt to shake off the haze of sleep. And then, his gaze landed on you.
Relief hit him like a crashing wave. His posture snapped upright, exhaustion momentarily forgotten as his entire focus narrowed in on you. The sheer intensity of his expression sent warmth flooding through your chest, his eyes roamed your face as if memorizing every detail, as if needing to reassure himself that you were really okay.
âYouâre awake,â he breathed, his voice rough from sleep, yet thick with emotion. His hand moved toward yours instinctively, but then he hesitated, hovering for just a moment, uncertainty flickering in his eyes, as if he feared you might pull away. But when you didnât, his fingers brushed against your skin, hesitant yet desperate for contact. âHow do you feel? Are you in pain? Should I get a nurse?â
Your lips parted to answer, but the words didnât come immediately. Your throat was dry, and your mind was sluggish, struggling to pull itself together. The memories that flickered in your mind felt like fragments of a broken puzzle, pieces that were out of reach, not quite forming a whole picture. The last thing you could clearly recall felt distant, blurred at the edges like a forgotten dream, slipping through your fingers as you tried desperately to hold onto it.
You cleared your throat, your voice low, barely above a whisper. âWhatâŠhappened? Why am I here?â
Your fiancé's expression shifted instantly, relief giving way to something heavier, something uncertain. His fingers curled slightly against your hand, his grip featherlight yet steady, as if afraid he might hurt you. He exhaled a slow, measured breath, gathering his thoughts before answering.
âYou were in a car accident,â he said softly, his voice cracking slightly under the weight of the words, though he kept his gaze steady on you.
A car accident.
The words felt foreign, distant, like they belonged to someone elseâs reality, not yours. Of all the ways you could have been hurt, this was the least likely, the least expected. Your life was a constant dance with danger, chasing monsters through dark alleyways, walking into crime scenes still heavy with the ghosts of violence, facing down men who thrived on fear. Those were the risks you understood, the dangers you had accepted long ago.
But this? This was ordinary. This was the kind of thing that happened to people who werenât constantly looking over their shoulders, to people who werenât trained to anticipate threats before they struck. You werenât reckless. You werenât careless. You didnât lose control.
âYou abandoned the way,â he continued softly, watching you closely. âThey said you mustâve lost control, maybe got distractedâŠor something. Your car went off the road and crashed into a ditch.â His voice faltered, just slightly, as if saying the words out loud made them more real. It was as if almost for a moment, a trace of guilt had escaped in his tone.
A cold chill ran through you, a sense of vertigo pulling at your chest. You stared at him, eyes wide, trying to process, trying to understand. But your mind remained blank, an empty canvas where everything should have been. There were no fragments of memories of the accident. No flashes of panic or the sudden jolt of the car swerving out of control. No sensation of the crash itself, just a void, a sharp nothingness.
âI donât remember,â you whispered, the words slipping out as you blinked, as though trying to will the memories back into place.
âThatâs normal,â he said, his voice soothing, though there was an unmistakable trace of worry beneath it. âMemory loss can happen after a concussion. It might come back soon.â
A concussion. The dull ache in your skull suddenly made sense. You lifted your free hand instinctively, but he was quicker, catching your wrist before your fingers could brush against what you now realized was a bandage wrapped around your head.
âYou hit your head pretty hard,â he said, his thumb absently tracing over your skin, as if grounding himself as much as grounding you. âBut the doctors said youâre going to be okay. You justïżœïżœneed time.â
Time.
It should have been comforting. But all you could think about was the emptiness of your memory, the lost hours, the lost moment when everything must have gone wrong, and the exact reasons why. You didn't usually drive alone, you didn't like the silence of the car, and you took your fiancé with you wherever you went. However, he seemed unharmed and just tired. You felt very confused, pressured, and lost as you remembered the ring that was missing from your finger.
You swallowed hard, trying to push past the dizziness that seemed to rise with every thought, trying to steady your racing heart. Your voice came out steadier this time, though there was still a tremor in it. âWhereâs my ring?â
Spencer blinked at you, clearly taken off guard by the question. âWhat ring?â he asked, his brows furrowing, confusion flickering in his eyes.
âThe most important ring in the world, love,â you whispered. âMy engagement ring.â
The silence that followed seemed eternal, the tension palpable, thick in the air between the two of you. Spencer's eyes widened when he realized what you were speaking, and his breath caught. He blinked, as if trying to understand why the absence of the ring you'd taken off yourself had bothered you so much, why you'd called him âloveâ after two months of not doing so, why his touch suddenly didn't seem to bother you. Something wasnât right, and it was all too clear to him now. Something was wrong with you.
The realization hit him like a bolt, but before he could say anything, you broke the moment, the tension too much to bear. âThis sucks,â you muttered, your voice quieter now but tinged with frustration. âMy head hurts.â
The sudden shift in your tone startled him, pulling him back to the present. His concern resurfaced, his gaze softening as he quickly leaned closer, his hand still holding yours. âHow much? On a scale of one to ten?â he asked, his voice anxious, the worry evident in his eyes.
You squeezed your eyes shut, the pressure in your skull making everything feel worse, as if you could feel your brain pulsing in rhythm with the pain. Your fingers tightened around his hand. âEleven,â you muttered, trying to force the words out with a breathless chuckle. The ridiculousness of it wasnât lost on you, but you didnât care. The truth was that it hurt, and you needed something else. Anything to make the ache go away.
His expression darkened with concern, and you saw his muscles tense as though he were already preparing to leave and find a nurse, a doctor, anyone who could help you. But before he could move, you caught his hand in yours, your fingers curling around his. âNo,â you said softly, shaking your head. âDonât call a doctor.â
He hesitated for a moment, still unsure of what to do, but his eyes never left you, his worry so palpable that you could practically feel it like a weight pressing down on both of you. âThen what do you need?â he asked gently, his voice soft, almost pleading. His thumb brushed lightly across your knuckles as if trying to comfort you, as if trying to bring you back to something you could hold onto.
You didnât answer him right away. Instead, you let out a shaky breath, still feeling the tension in your body, the unease that gripped you. Your fingers slid to the side of his face, the touch so light it almost felt like a dream, and you tilted your head to meet his gaze.
âGive me love,â you whispered, the words escaping your lips with a sudden tenderness, an unexpected vulnerability. You needed him. Not just in the way your body craved the relief of his touch, but in the deeper, more desperate way that your soul was aching for connection, for his warmth.
Spencer blinked, his breath catching as he looked at you, clearly surprised by your request. He took a small, confused step back, his brows furrowing in bewilderment. âWhat?â
âKiss me, fool,â you murmured, your voice lower now, almost teasing, trying to make light of the moment even though everything inside you felt like it was unraveling. You could see the hesitation in his eyes, the way he was torn between the confusion that had settled in his mind and the longing in his chest.
The way youâd spoken to him, the way youâd touched him, it was all too much. Yet too little, too fragile, and too desperate at once.
âYouâŠyou want me to kiss you?â His voice was quiet, still unsure. But you could see the faintest shimmer of hope in his eyes, a flicker of something that made him believe, just for a second, that maybe things werenât as broken as they seemed. That maybe you were still you, still his, still something real, even if everything else had changed.
âDonât tell me my face looked that bad after the accident,â you teased, your voice weak but laced with a dry humor you hoped might ease the tension hanging between you both.
âNoâŠyouâre perfect, pretty as always.â
You tilted your head slightly, still feeling the remnants of confusion and loneliness swirling in the space between you both. âYou said that because you love me,â you murmured, a small smile playing at the corner of your lips, but it was tinged with a vulnerability you could no longer hide. âNow I want a mirror.â
âA mirror?â He repeated, his voice soft but curious, unsure of where this was leading. He glanced around the room as if expecting a mirror to appear out of nowhere, but the expression on your face made it clear that wasnât the answer you were seeking. His eyes turned back to you, searching for more understanding.
âOr a kiss,â you added quietly, the weight of the words making your chest tighten. âHug, touch? I need physical affection.â
Spencerâs breath caught again. His fingers twitched slightly as if wanting to reach out, but still, something held him back. Something about the rawness of your request, the way you were looking at him with that strange mixture of vulnerability and need, made him pause. The last few months, the distance, the silence, the space, it all came rushing back, threatening to collapse in on him, on both of you. He didnât know how to bridge the gap, but here you were, asking for something he hadnât dared hope for, something real, something close.
You needed him.
His eyes softened, and for a brief, fleeting moment, the world outside of the hospital room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you. His heart ached with the weight of everything unsaid, everything that had been left unspoken for too long. âYouâŠyou need physical affection?â he whispered, almost as if testing the words on his own tongue, seeing how they felt.
Reid swallowed, his Adamâs apple bobbing as he processed your words. His mind was spinning, struggling to reconcile the warmth in your voice, the softness in your gaze, with the cold, distant reality he had been living in for the past two months. The reality where your hands no longer reached for his, where your voice had lost that teasing lilt whenever you spoke to him, where you had looked at him with something closer to exhaustion than love. But now, now, you were here, in front of him, looking at him like this, touching him like this, speaking to him like this. And he didnât know what to do with it.
His fingers twitched against yours, but he didnât pull away. He couldnât. Not when you were looking at him with that quiet plea in your eyes, not when your touch was so familiar, achingly so.
âYou need physical affection?â He repeated it, almost as if saying it aloud would help him believe it. âFrom me?â
A small frown creased your forehead, as if the question itself was absurd. âOf course, from you,â you murmured, your thumb tracing the back of his hand in a slow, lingering movement. âWho else would I want it from, if not my future husband?â
Spencerâs mouth opened as if to speak, then faltered, the words caught somewhere in the space between his thoughts and reality. For a brief moment, everything clicked. It all made sense now.
You didnât remember more than the accident.
You didnât remember the nights you had spent on opposite ends of the apartment, the silences that stretched longer than either of you could fill. You didnât remember the fights that had grown from whispered frustrations into full-blown arguments, the sharp words that had cut deeper than either of you had intended. You didnât remember the moment you had taken off your engagement ring, the way you had placed it on the counter with trembling fingers, saying, I donât know if this is working anymore, Spence. You didnât remember that you had been on the verge of leaving him.
And yet now, here you were, lying in a hospital bed, looking up at him with those same eyes that once held every piece of his heart, asking for him. Asking for his love, his touch, his kiss, as if none of it had ever been broken. As if nothing had changed.
His chest ached.
He should tell you. He should tell you the truth. He should remind you of the distance that had grown between you, the hurt that had seeped into every corner of what you once were. He should remind you that you had been slipping through his fingers for two months now, that this moment, this closeness, was something neither of you had shared in what felt like forever.
But God, how could he? How could he break this? How could he take away the way you were looking at him, touching him, and loving him when it was the only thing he had wanted for so long?
You smiled softly, a small, teasing glint in your eyes, the same expression he had missed more than he could admit. âI donât need another doctor,â you said, your voice light but filled with need. âI just need my doctor Reid. I need you now.â
His breath caught.
God, how many nights had he stayed awake, staring at the ceiling, wishing to hear those words again? How many times had he replayed every conversation, every argument, trying to pinpoint the exact moment everything had started slipping through his fingers? How many times had he wished youâd look at him like this again, like he was your home?
âDo youâŠâ He hesitated, then swallowed. âDo you remember the last thing we talked about? Before the accident?â
You blinked at him, momentarily thrown by the question. âNo, Iââ You paused, thinking. Then, after a moment, you laughed, rolling your eyes. âProbably something dumb, like what we should have for dinner.â
You didnât remember. You didnât remember the raw, biting argument that had escalated, the way words that were meant to heal had instead poisoned the air between you. The cutting words you had both thrown at each other, the ones that lingered long after you had left the apartment, your heart pounding with regret and pain. You didnât remember that you had almost walked away for good.
But now? Right now, you were looking at him like he was still your safe place. Like he was still yours.
âIâŠâ He inhaled sharply, trying to steady himself, the words lodged in his throat like shards of glass. âI donât want to hurt you,â he murmured, his voice breaking with the weight of his own uncertainty.
âYouâre not hurting me.â You let out a small, breathy chuckle, squeezing his hand. âThe only thing hurting me right now is this damn headache.â
Spencer exhaled, closing his eyes for a moment. This was dangerous. This was reckless. He knew that. But when he opened his eyes again and saw you, saw the way you were still waiting, still trusting, still his, something in him cracked.
Slowly, hesitantly, his free hand lifted, fingertips grazing the side of your face. You leaned into his touch instantly, and he felt his heart stutter, his breath catching in his throat.
God.
How could he let go of this?
His grip on your face tightened slightly, barely noticeable, but you still felt it. Your expression softened, your thumb grazing over his knuckles, grounding him. âSpence?â
He inhaled sharply, trying to push back the lump in his throat. He should tell you. He needed to tell you. But the words wouldnât come. Because right now, in this moment, you were still his. You were looking at him like he was your everything. Like you wanted him.
And selfishly, pathetically, he wanted to hold onto that. Just for a little longer.
So instead of answering your question, instead of pulling away like he probably should have, he did the one thing he knew he shouldnât do.
He gave in.
He leaned forward, his movements slow, hesitant, his fingers tightening around yours. His free hand came up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek, as if memorizing the warmth of your skin. And when your lips parted slightly, your breath mixing with his, he closed the space between you and kissed you.
Soft. Tentative.
A kiss that held every unsaid word, every unshed tear, every moment he thought he had lost you for good. It wasnât hurried or desperate. It was slow, tentative, almost like he was afraid you would pull away, that you would remember everything you had wanted to forget. But you didnât. You melted into him, sighing against his lips, your fingers curling around the fabric of his sleeve, holding him close.
For the first time in months, Spencer Reid didnât feel like he was losing you. For the first time in months, he allowed himself to believe, just for a fleeting moment, that maybe he hadnât lost you at all.
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