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mssorceressupreme · 2 days ago

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The Way I Loved You | F.W

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Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Summary: Dumbledore has asked for every house to put on a performance during the Yule Ball, the winner will earn 250 House Points. For this particular dance you’re partnered up with George though you wish it was Fred, however during the dance George is nowhere to be found. You’re left there on the dance floor right before your performance, stranded, alone & embarrassed, will anyone save you?

Warnings: jealousy, mutual-pining, dance lessons from Fred Weasley, nothing else lol this one’s fluffy <3

A/N: was superrr inspired by that one scene in The Summer I Turned Pretty during the debutante ball where Conrad dances with Belly instead of Jeremiah 🥹🥹 feel free to listen to ‘That’s the Way I Loved You by Taylor swifts’ for this read

Sorry this one's kinda long, got a bit carried away but he's just so scrumdilicious x

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The Gryffindor common room was lively with the crackle of the fireplace and the chatter of students winding down after a long day.

You sat cross-legged on the floor near Hermione, flipping through a book on charms, while Fred and George lounged on the sofa, tossing a chocolate frog back and forth like it was a Quaffle.

Lee was perched on the armrest, chiming in with his usual quips, and Ron was attempting—and failing—to beat Harry in wizard chess.

The portrait door swung open with a thud, and Ginny burst in, her face alight with excitement. “Everyone, listen up!” she called, cutting through the noise.

Fred groaned, tossing the chocolate frog into George’s lap. “What now?”

Ginny ignored him, standing proudly at the centre of the room. “Professor Dumbledore’s announced a competition taking place during the Yule Ball. Each house has to put on a performance, and the best one wins 250 house points!”

The room fell silent, except for the crackle of the fire.

“A performance?” Fred repeated, eyebrows raised. “You mean like... dancing in front of the entire school? Nope. No way. Count me out.”

“Oh, come on,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes. “You’re not scared, are you?”

“Scared? No. Smart? Yes,” Fred replied, sticking his tongue out at her teasingly.

Ginny mimicked him. “Fine. I wasn’t planning on pairing you anyway.”

“Good,” Fred said, leaning back smugly.

Lee raised his hand. “Yeah, same here. I’ll pass on the public humiliation, thanks.”

Fred breathed a slight sigh of relief at Ginny's words, thankful he had escaped that particular disaster. He noticed her next comment, however, and a feeling of dread settled in the pit of his stomach.

“Great,” Ginny said, undeterred. “McGongall's put me in charge of organising's Gryffindor performance and I’ve already got pairs in mind! Harry and me, Ron and Hermione, Neville and Angelina, and—” she paused, grinning at you, “you and George.”

Fred perked up slightly at this but quickly masked it with a yawn.

"Let's goo Georgie!" Lifting your hand up for a high-five with George.

Fred watched as you high-fived George, his eyes narrow slightly with jealousy. He couldn't believe Ginny would pair YOU and George together. The thought of the two of you dancing together, moving in sync, made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

As the others continued discussing the dance, Fred's gaze flickered to you, watching as you interacted with the others. He couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to dance with you, spin you around the dance floor, hold you close...

Fred quickly shook his head, banishing the thoughts from his mind. He had to keep it together. He couldn't let everyone know that he was secretly hoping to dance with you. Besides, Ginny had already paired you with George. There was no way to change that now.

“Practice starts at 7 in the Great Hall tomorrow,” Ginny continued. “Don’t be late!” ___

Right at 7 the next day, the eight of you plus Fred and Lee started making their way to the great hall, the energy in the air buzzing with anticipation.

Fred reluctantly followed, his heart pounding in his chest as he entered the grand room. "Oi Fred what are you doing here, I don't recall you being in the dance." Ron teased.

Fred rolled his eyes at Ron's comment, feigning indifference. "Just thought I'd come see how the professionals do it. Don't get too cocky, Ronald."

George snickered at Fred's response, clearly enjoying watching his twin squirm. In reality, Fred was here solely to keep an eye on you and George dancing together.

"Alright Gin, what do you have in mind?" You asked excitedly about the choreography.

Ginny beamed at your enthusiasm and clapped her hands together. "So, for the slow part, we're doing a simple box-step. Just a few basic steps with some swaying and twirling, nothing too complicated."

She demonstrated the steps with one of the boys. It looked fairly simple, a basic back and forth moving step with some twirling and having your arms around your partner.

"It's a fairly easy dance, with clear instructions for each step, just remember to move in sync with your partner, or it'll look like a chaotic mess." She chuckled.

She demonstrated the dance, moving her body to the beat of the imaginary music. It involved swaying, spinning, and stepping, all in time with the music. "That looks amazing, should be a piece of cake to get down." You noted.

You and George paired off going to one corner to rehearse while Ginny helped the others, and to your surprise, the two of you picked up the routine quickly.

“You’re a natural,” George said with a grin as you spun gracefully under his arm.

Across the hall, Fred and Lee sat against the wall, their arms crossed. Fred was trying to act indifferent, but his eyes kept wandering to you.

“You’re staring,” Lee said, nudging him.

“Am not,” Fred muttered, tearing his gaze away.

“Yes, you are. You’re jealous,” Lee teased, smirking.

Fred scoffed. “Jealous? Of George? Don’t be ridiculous.”

But the flush creeping up his neck betrayed him.

George, with a cheeky grin, took the lead, his hands confidently on your waist. He led you through the basic box-step, his movements smooth and precise. You, too, followed his guidance gracefully, executing the steps effortlessly. You blushed, looking into his eyes as this was the first time you'd properly danced with a guy.

Though George was a delight to dance with, you couldn't help but secretly wish it was Fred, your long-time crush. But no way would you admit that to anyone, you did not want to ruin the long-term friendship you had with him, or worse, change the dynamic of the friend group.

Thinking of Fred, you looked over at him, making eye contact with him momentarily.

Fred, watching from the corner, felt a sting in his chest when he met your eyes. The sight of you and George dancing together was almost too painful to bear. He tried to stay neutral, but the longing in his eyes betrayed his emotions. ___

The next day, you found yourself in the courtyard, practicing under a tree. George had been called away for something, so you were left to rehearse the steps alone.

“Left foot back, right foot forward... no, wait—” you muttered, stumbling.

Unbeknownst to you, Fred had been passing by when he noticed you under the tree. He paused, watching as you put your books aside and started recalling the dance steps. He stood there for a moment, debating whether to approach you or not.

His heart was telling him to go over, strike up a conversation, flirt a bit. But his mind, the rational part of him, held him back.

He knew he should keep his distance, not get involved further. But he seemed to be losing the battle with himself.

Taking a deep breath, he decided he couldn't resist anymore. He walked over to you, trying to maintain his usual carefree demeanour.

From behind you came a familiar voice. “You’re doing it all wrong.”

You spun around to see Fred leaning against the tree, arms crossed and a smug grin on his face.

“Fred, go away,” you said, exasperated. “I’m trying to practice.”

“I can see that,” he said, strolling over. “And failing spectacularly, I might add.”

"I'm serious, I don't want to let Ginny down." You glared at him, pushing him away playfully.

Fred stumbled back a step, faking defeat. He chuckled as he regained his footing, his smirk widening. "Oh, I know, I know, can't have dear Ginny's dance being ruined, can we?" "Exactly. Now if you mind, i'm trying to recall my steps." You mentally practice in you head, moving slightly as you did so to your own rhythm. Fred chuckled, finding it slightly amusing and endearing how focused you were on remembering the steps. He leaned against the tree, crossing his arms, watching you with a mixture of playful mockery and genuine admiration. You then mimick the steps, putting your arm out pretending George was in front of you but it was hard without someone in front to guide you, "Wait no like this...? Two steps to the right?...or left was it?"

Fred watched you struggle, your movements clearly off without a partner to guide you. He couldn't help but smirk at your frustration and confusion, finding it quite charming how determined you were despite the difficulty. He pushed off the tree, coming to stand beside you.

"You know, I could help you, if you want. I'm an expert dance teacher, you know." "Yeah right 'Mr. I Hate Dancing'..." You roll your eyes.

"Hey, don't underestimate me. I'll have you dancing like a pro in no time." He was confident, folding his arms proudly at his proclamation. "Fine, whatever, show me." You feigned defeat, desperately needing more help. Fred chuckled, pleased by your acceptance and secretly happy that he could be the one helping you for a change. "Alright, let's get started. Firstly, you need to focus on your stance. Feet slightly apart, weight slightly forward."

He demonstrated by adjusting his own stance, and then stepped closer to you, gesturing towards you to do the same. As you adjusted your stance accordingly, Fred came to stand directly in front of you, facing you.

His eyes traveled from your face down to your feet, sizing you up as he mentally began planning the steps he was about to explain.

He continued, instructing you further as he shifted a bit closer. His voice was now lower, a hint of command in his tone.

"Now, you step back with your left leg first. Slightly bend your right knee as you do." He instructed and you nodded, watching him in a serious demeanour was rather attractive.

Unusual from his playful self, you observed his face, how he was focused, eyebrows furrowed, focused on helping you. "Good, now bring your right foot up to meet your left, closing the gap. Good, good. Keep your weight balanced between your feet. Don't lock your knees, just a little bend will do." You tried doing so but tripped, losing balance. Fred reacted quickly, his hands instinctively reaching out to steady you. He caught you in his arms, pulling you against his chest to prevent you from falling.

He chuckled softly, his hands still on your hips to keep you upright. "Woah, easy there. You're a bit clumsy today, aren't ya?" Yeah because you're so close to me right now Fred. You chuckle nervously. "Whoops, my bad!"

"It's a good thing I've got my reflexes, or you would have kissed the ground just now." He laughed, helping you steady yourself. "Hey maybe the ground needed a good kiss." You tease back jokingly.

Fred laughed aloud at your cheeky remark, his hands still on your waist, thumbs tracing small circles against your sides. He tilted his head slightly, arching one eyebrow mischievously.

"Oh really? And what about me? Do I get a kiss too since I saved you from kissing the ground?" He joked, but something in his eyes told you he partly meant what he said.

You blushed but played it off, "Yeah yeah you wish Weasley, now come on show me the steps."

Fred chuckled at your attempt to brush off his comment, but he couldn't help feeling a twinge of disappointment. Nevertheless, he complied, refocusing his attention back on the dancing lesson.

"Alright, alright. Let's try that again. Back step, knees bent, weight balanced, and..."

He demonstrated each step as he spoke, his hands guiding your hips gently on your left and right. As he moved, his body was incredibly close to yours.

The heat from his breath fanned against your skin, and his hands firmly grasping your hips sent tingles through your body. He could sense the effect his touch was having on you, yet he kept a calm and composed expression, maintaining the facade of a dancing teacher. Fred continued the lesson, occasionally correcting your stance, or gently repositioning your hips. Each time his touch lingered for a few moments longer than necessary, his fingers gently grazing your skin sending a small spark of electricity through your entire body.

Yet, he kept his focus on the lesson, acting as if he was completely oblivious to the effect he was having on you.

"Like this?" You ask, then show him your steps. Fred watched you closely, his eyes following the movement of your feet and hips as you demonstrated the steps.

He smiled approvingly, impressed with how quickly you were catching on. "Yes, yes, that's it. You've got it. Just keep your weight balanced and move with the rhythm. You're doing great." "Wow really?" You gleamed with joy, finally noting the steps down.

Fred chuckled, enjoying the joy and excitement on your face as you realised you were getting the steps down. He nodded, a proud smile on his face."Of course really. I told you, didn't I? I'm an excellent dance teacher. Just a few more practices, and you'll be gliding across the dance floor like a pro tomorrow." "I'spose I do have a okay teacher." You remarked nonchalantly.

George watched us then cleared his throat, holding himself back from chortling, "Okay, okay nice show. It's time for some real dancing now Y/N."

As George cleared his throat, both you and Fred looked over at him, having been so engrossed in the dancing lesson that you hadn't noticed his presence.

"Enjoying the show, were you Georgie?" Fred hummed.

"More like trying not to throw up from the eyes you were giving each other." George joked, knowing Fred's evident crush on you, "Anyway, it's time for practice, it's 7. Came looking for Y/N." George spoke, walking over to me.

As Fred released you from his grip, you felt a short wave of disappointment as his hands left your hips. But before you could dwell on that, George's hand took its place, his touch familiar and comforting yet lacking the spark that Fred's had.

George smiled at you, oblivious to the lingering tension between you and Fred. You looked back at Fred who stood there by himself, then turned to George who was walking with you. As you followed George, you couldn't help but glance back at Fred. He remained by the tree, watching you as you moved away with George.

There was a mix of emotions in his eyes - disappointment, longing, and perhaps a hint of jealousy. Fred tried to act casually, leaning against the tree with his arms crossed, but his mind was swirling with conflicting thoughts and emotions.

Though he knew George meant no harm, seeing you with George was painful, especially since he was the one who had just been holding you close, teaching you the steps just moments ago.

___ The night of the Yule Ball arrived, and the Great Hall was a vision of sparkling decorations and twinkling lights. As you lined up with the other Gryffindors in one of the waiting rooms before your performance, George suddenly clutched his stomach.

"You alright George?" You ask, placing a hand on his back.

George waved his hand dismissively, trying to downplay his discomfort. "Yeah, I'm good. Just a bit of an upset stomach. Probably ate something rotten earlier. I'll be alright, don't worry."

George then excused himself and went to the bathroom, feeling unwell. He hurried to the bathroom, trying to compose himself.

Meanwhile, Ginny, Angelina, and Hermione approached you, wearing concerned expressions.

"Is George okay? He look a bit pale just now..." Concern lacing in Hermione's voice.

"Tummy ache, probably ate something wrong earlier, its okay he'll be back in time for the dance..." You hoped, nervously as you began walking toward the hall, everyone waiting for your Gryffindor group, or team, to perform.

Hermione nodded, her worry still visible. The three girls followed you out of the room, walking down the corridor toward the Great Hall where the entire school was waiting.

As the four of you reached the entrance to the Great Hall, the sound of hushed whispers and applause grew louder and louder. Every student in Hogwarts was gathered within, their eyes fixed on the stage, eagerly awaiting your grand performance. With every step you took toward the stage, the crowd's applause grew louder and louder. As the four of you finally took your places at the front of the stage, the audience erupted into cheers.

The boys then took their positions in their respective places, and the energy in the room was electric with anticipation. Still, George was no where to be seen. "Hey Ron, have you seen George?"you asked, but no luck.

Ron shook his head, looking just as concerned as you. "No, mate. I thought he was with you guys. Have you checked the bathroom?" You shook your head, "Harry, do you know where George is?"

Harry looked just as puzzled, worry etched on his face. "No, haven't seen him. He ran off earlier. Thought he was just going to the bathroom." "Neville, have you seen George?" You asked. Neville scratched his head, thinking. "Last I saw him, he was heading to the bathrooms. I thought he was just feeling a bit under the weather."The minutes ticked by, the tension in the room building. Everyone was in their positions, ready to dance, but you were standing there, feeling anxious without your partner. The audience started noticing the delay, their whispers turning into murmurs of confusion and anticipation. Oh no, you glanced around the room looking at the audience, this was the worst thing ever, you felt humiliated. Your heart raced, the feeling of embarrassment and hopelessness washing over you.

Every pair in the room was in their positions, ready to dance, except for you. Your eyes darted around the room, seeing the murmurs and whispers of the audience. You felt exposed, the spotlight on you as the delay continued.Hermione, Ginny, and Angelina watched you with sympathetic and worried expressions. They wanted to help, but there was nothing they could do. The situation was growing more embarrassing by the second as the absence of your partner became more glaringly obvious to everyone in the great hall. Professor McGonagall, standing at the back of the great hall, noticed the delay and the lack of a partner for you. She furrowed her eyebrows, puzzled by the situation.

The murmurs and whispers from the audience grew louder, filling the air with a sense of suspense. Just as the whispers grew even louder, Fred's gaze fell upon you.

His eyes widened in shock upon seeing you standing alone, looking visibly upset. He exchanged a worried look with Lee, who looked just as concerned. Fred's heart ached seeing you alone up there.

Fred's mind raced, torn between his conflicting emotions. He wanted to charge up onto the stage and take your place as your partner, but something held him back. He looked at Lee, silently pleading for advice.

--- cue: That's the Way I Loved You by Taylor Swift ---

Fred couldn't bear the sight of you standing there alone, feeling more helpless by the second. He shot a determined look at Lee, silently letting him know that he had made up his mind.

Without another moment of hesitation, Fred pushed past the other couples and walked confidently toward the stage.

The murmurs in the audience grew louder, watching the unexpected scene unfold before them.

It felt as though time slowed down when you watched him approach you, your gazes fixed on each other, drowning out everyone else in the room. As Fred approached the front of the stage, his heart thumping in his chest, he met your worried eyes. He offered you a reassuring smile, silently letting you know everything was going to be alright now.

Fred took his position beside you, the audience watching in stunned surprise as the change of plan unfolded before their eyes. Fred glanced at you once more, his eyes brimming with a mix of concern and determination.

You smiled at him, relieved, comforted, excited, all at once. Fred smiled back at you, mirroring your own excitement and relief. He offered you a wink, trying to lighten the moment a bit. "You didn't think I'd let you dance alone like this, did you?" "The steps..do you...?" You smile widely but was worried he might've forgotten the steps.

Fred chuckled, noticing your concern. "Please, I've been watching you guys practicing for ages. I know these steps as well as I know the back of my hand." You smile widely...it was him. Fred, your Fred that you would be dancing with. Fred grinned in return, loving the look of joy on your face. He couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement himself. He had dreamt of dancing with you like this for so long, and now here he was, finally getting the chance.

As the music started, you and Fred began moving in perfect sync, his strong hands effortlessly leading you through the steps of the dance.

The worry and uncertainty from earlier melted away, replaced by a feeling of pure magic as the two of you danced together on the stage. You gazed into his eyes lovingly, blushing, your heart beating faster because of how close your were. Fred's eyes met yours, his heart racing with every step you took together. He was acutely aware of how close you were, the feel of your body near his sending his body into heat.

He could practically feel your heart beating as fast as his own. He tried to keep his composure, concentrating on leading you through the dance, but the way you looked at him made it incredibly difficult. As Fred pulled you closer, your bodies now almost pressed up against each other, he couldn't help but smile. Your shy smile sent his heart into a frenzy, making the dance even more thrilling.

As the music came to an end, the great hall erupted in a chorus of loud cheers and applause. You and Fred stood side by side, panting slightly from the exertion.

Your hearts were still racing, the excitement of the dance lingering in the air. Fred's hand was still holding yours, a warm smile on his face as he looked at you.

"I love you." Fred suddenly said.

"What?!" You responded, over the loud yelling and cheers. "I said, I love you." He confessed, stepping closer cupping your cheeks tenderly, "I always have Y/N. You're the only thing that's been on my mind for awhile now. Merlin, you consume my thoughts 24/7, I just, you're the best thing that has happened to me and I-"

You cut him off with a passionate kiss, meeting his lips with gentleness.

Warmth blossomed in your chest, sparks igniting as your lips brushed together with Fred's, for the first time. The smell of his cologne, was dizzying, electrifying, sending butterflies in your stomach.

His lips soft and gentle against yours, they were gentle, the way he was gentle with you, the way he cared for you spoke volumes through this kiss.

The both of you pulled away, he leaned down, resting forehead to forehead and grinning widely. "I love you too, Fred Weasley."

#fred x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred #george weasley x reader #george wealsey imagine #george weasley #ginny weasley #ron weasley #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter headcanon #hogwarts fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #x reader

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kisakunt · 2 hours ago

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THE RICH MAN’S GUIDE TO CORRUPTION

GIVE IT UP FOR LOVE

warnings… i mean some absolute swine talk, gojo and geto are evil men, you’re a sweet and pure virgin. swearing, mentions of fucking, really just vile pig shit.

synopsis… suguru and satoru have a lovely chat over a warm summers breeze. oh! and sweet, un-expecting, vulnerable you is the topic of discussion.

a word from the creator… idk if i mentioned this but this fic is based loosely off the movie cruel intentions! banger film, check it out. i wrote a lot of this chapter awhile ago so if the writing style switches up next chapter don’t sue me. i’m excited!!!! here’s to the next eleven chapters of hell

series masterlist

Gojo hates the heat. He thinks he's tolerated it before on his father’s yacht or when he did an unnecessary shirtless carwash for extra money he didn't need; but right now with the breeze through the window— that Suguru demanded be open— overbearing the air conditioner, he's absolutely positive that summer is the worst.

“Start of the year’s comin’, yknow.” He typically broke the silence— as if he could ever shut up to begin with— and he was almost always met with a:

“No shit.” strident response. Those seemed to be Suguru’s speciality, and provoking them seemed to be Satoru’s.

It’s too hot. His white hair presses into the drywall, feeling much cooler than the air outside. “I’m not stupid, Suguru. Neither are you, you know what I mean.” It’s an overdramatic sigh— a call for attention— as he turns his head over to look at him.

“They’re gonna ask us about it soon.” And, in some way Suguru can’t really comprehend, Gojo sounds excited.

His manner isn’t necessarily wrong, not so much as it is unexpected. The ‘new year, new fuck’ competition of Azabu was practically famous among the young men certain to attend— the sons of the sons who started it, and all their nephews or cousins or any synonym for a pig of a relative that they could come up with. And, luckily enough, they had the privilege to be top candidates.

The competition was started by the current dean’s uncle, a horny fuck-all type who would take any and all excuse to boost his ego while tearing down a girls— or maybe he really did just want a good lay. But, it grew and grew and grew, and now it was almost ritualistic, a second identity of worthiness in the form of fucking a virgin before anyone else did.

Sure, they were nothing but thrilled for it as high school reached an end, or even the first or second year of university. But now it just seemed dull.

But, traditions are custom, and customs are a necessity. It’s almost become lore throughout their little clique of affluence; whispered stories from childhood turned into real competition after a long wait, especially from a group of people who so rarely have to wait for anything. It’s inspiring, they think, means to associate themselves with a lower class; normalize themselves just a little more.

Alumni share stories at functions, putting the frat in fraternizing, nonchalance on the tips of their tongues. Sometimes the tone almost feels dark, and Suguru thinks if he were a better person he’d feel some type of sympathy for the girls. Any fragment of empathy he had wiped away when he won for the first time, though, wide smirk as his year mates glared at him; memories of the tight, albeit idiotic, girl engrained behind the lids of his eyes.

Even so, it gets old quick. And it’s not like they don’t fuck dumb, stupid, silly girls with nothing to say for the rest of the year anyway. So, he can’t quite figure out what Gojo is all too excited about.

“Well try to make sure your dick doesn’t get hard from the thought, you fucking freak.” There’s a giggle from the other man, a scoff too, and he pushes his hand out at him.

This is crucial. This is who they are together. A pair— whether it’s a pair of awful men or not.

There’s also a sense of trepidation that comes with it, of course. It’s exclusive, more so than they already are, and if you do one thing wrong- speak a little too loud, come off too brash, give a lackluster lie after actually getting caught— you’re out. And whose pride would want that?

“It’s stupid we always gotta wait for them to sit us down, it’s not like we don’t know what’s coming up.” He scoffs, arms crossing over his chest. “Plus, what a fucking weird thing to say to your kid.”

“I mean the whole thing’s odd if you think about it.” Gojo shrugs, hands stuffed in his pockets, forearms bare against the linen of his trousers.

He’s right, of course. Even if neither of them feel guilt for their actions, they can’t ignore the sinking feeling in their stomach when their own fathers sit them down and incite such a twisted view on them.

Be that as it may, it’s not too bad when that’s all they know, and it’s not like either of them are going to complain at a quick orgasm, a nice pair of tits, and that goddamn feeling of triumph.

“Do you think they’ll cry again?” Satoru mocks, brimming with glee as he leans in the direction of his friend. “It’s always funny, dontcha think?”

“As if you’d know,” There’s a smirk despite the aggression in his tone. “Dunno why it matters so much to you, you already got bitches babbling about you all the time.”

Gojo sighs, expression bored and childish and fucking greedy. “Yeah, I know but…” His voice peters out, lost in the room. Elation bubbles back into his features, warming his cheeks and animating his eyes as he looks at Suguru.

“Yknow, I heard the dean has a daughter starting, actually. Real sweet gal, even wrote a whole fucking magazine article about the importance of ‘saving your innocence’” his voice wobbles, eyes rolling as he sneers. “for someone you really love.”

“Sounds like she’s ugly.”

“Thought so, too, but..” He trails off, hand fishing in his back pocket for his phone, pupils dilating at the light on his screen. It doesn’t take him long to find the photo; clearly he’s been sitting on his discovery for awhile, anticipating when he could tell him. “Look.”

Suguru doesn’t like to be wrong, much less will he ever admit it. “Holy shit.” You aren’t necessarily the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, probably not even the prettiest he’s seen in the last month, but you were definitely something.

Maybe it was the curve of your jaw or the tint in your lips, but the photo set something off in him. On the surface he thinks it’s the just barely explicit face you’re making in your mirror, phone in hand as you look into your lens, but really, honestly, if he’s searching deep down— it’s the fact he knows you’re the one girl who wouldn’t just throw herself on him if he so kindly asked.

“Sugu, are you ever bored of this? It feels too easy, right?” Suddenly Gojo’s previous excitement feels misplaced, voice itching for more. “Hardest part about it is finding out who’s actually a virgin or not, and that’s pretty simple with how awkward they get.”

“What are you saying?” Maybe he already knows, maybe he’s hoping for the obvious, but he asks like he doesn’t care. The former moves fast, hand steady on the desk as he leans far too close for comfort. In any other situation, he’d probably be met with a harsh jab to the face, but this feels different— secret.

“Let’s do something, on our own, just you and me.” He almost seems too impatient, pressure digging into the ground from the toes of his shoes and gaze begging. It was the kind of thing that made you want to agree, if nothing else to just feel a fraction of the way he seemed to be. Before Suguru could even consider the idea, test the waters and make Gojo beg a little bit, said boy opened his mouth again.

“I mean, unless you’re not up for it. You don’t really seem like the type to make a girl give it up for love.” He snickers, raising the back of his hand to his forehead as he feigns swooning.

“Geto, I— I love you.” His voice is high, wheezy in his imitation and a little rude. “I think.. I think I’m ready- I want it to be you.” He cuts himself off with his own laugh, hand circling over his mouth to try to stifle himself. “Could you imagine?”

“The fuck does that mean?!”

“Cmon, Suguru, you’re not really the endearing type.” He’s edging him now, tone manipulative and pressing and snarky and Suguru knows— of course he knows, but it can’t help but irk him.

“What are you thinking?” And now Gojo’s beaming again, feet guiding him back across the room to his bag, books stacked neatly inside, lying even against each other. He pulls out a magazine and tosses it to him haphazardly before he reaches back for a notebook and a pen.

“Page 36, read it.” The article is cheesy. It’s too long and feels like something right off a self care Facebook page. Suguru is sure he physically recoiled a couple times reading it; especially when you wrote ‘Virginity is a miracle— the ability to show someone how much you love them in such an intimate way should be saved for someone special.’.

It’s shocking that you’re the daughter of the man who oversees their little sex game.

Suguru thinks you’re vile— embarrassing and pathetic and a huge fucking waste of what seems like a really good pair of blowjob eyes. It makes his skin crawl and he verbally scoffs when he reads your finishing sentence about cherishing your virtues, so focused on the arrogance in your punctuation that he doesn’t even hear Gojo’s laugh.

“Pretentious as shit, right?” He snorts, eyes flickered as he recites the passage in his head. “It’s gonna feel so good to fuck the words right out of her mouth.” Suguru didn’t know what he expected from his friend, but it wasn’t that. It’s clear through, through and through, that he’s dedicated to the idea.

“I mean sure, I guess you’ll have your turn. Maybe she’ll fuck just about anyone after I win.”

“Wait, so you’re in?”

“Whatever.”

“Fuck yeah!” He’s joyful, fist pumping into his chest in a quick celebration before he’s holding up his notebook, standing directly across the floor from the desk.

The wood is dark, deep and marbled, glazed over the top and lined with little symbols of power in the form of trophies. It’s clearly something too nice to serve as a welcome mat, but nonetheless Suguru rests his heels on the surface, ankles crossed over each other as he leans back in his chair. His eyes point to the ceiling to look at anything other than the annoyance in front of him.

“Well clearly we need to set up some rules.” He sneers in his seat when he remembers not looking at him won’t make him shut up.

“Okay well we have the obvious: whoever fucks first wins. And I mean fucks, none of that sloppy anal shit. Doesn’t count.” It’s almost funny, but neither of them acknowledge it. If they do, that’ll come hand in hand with the fact they’re acting just like their fathers.

“She has to be sober.” He didn’t really expect himself to say that, but he did expect Satoru to whine.

Gojo lets it sit in the air for a second before he nods curtly and jots something done.

“Would it be too cocky to say she has to cum?” The journal’s away from his face now and someone could, and probably would, argue that the walls are lucky to see the boyish grin he’s got. His smirk pulls up at the corners of his lips, but Suguru just finds it vexing. Gojo is far too full of himself, he thinks, and he hates to admit there’s good reason.

Nonetheless, he has to give him a little shit. “Do they normally not with you?”

“Hey! That’s not what I meant, asshole.” There’s something sweet to Satoru, under all the sickening that is his personality. It makes people understand just why girls fall for him, and definitely helps him keep a good image to the public.

And there’s something smart to him that makes you feel like he could really pull whatever he wanted off. It makes the idea of competing with just him much more appealing.

“Are we gonna have like a— fuck I don’t know— like a time limit?”

“Fuck is this? A video game?”

“I mean no, but competition wise if it takes us like half a year isn’t that kind of stupid? Because who’s to say she won’t ‘really love you’ by then, and then you’re not making her go against anything, yknow?” And there's also something meticulous about him that makes him aggravating as all hell.

“Fine. A month.”

“Just a month?”

“Yeah, you’re right. Plus, anything longer than that and we’d just be a couple of fucking losers chasing after a bitch.” Suguru knows Gojo is giving him a look without even seeing it, the slightly judgmental and almost kind one he does. “What? You’re the one who said it to begin with.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever. A month.” It’s silent for a second, comfortable with all their years of each other, before he clears his throat.

“That it then?” Maybe they’re the same kind of evil. Maybe they deserve each other.

“One more, actually.” There’s that feeling from him again, the tone that makes Suguru want to agree aimlessly for no fucking reason other than the possible rush. And before he can fester; before his skin can start to crawl and his hands can get clammy just from that sheer desire in his voice, Gojo grins.

“You need proof. And I don’t mean her saying it, because you can bribe anyone into saying anything. Gotta show it, photo or video or something, balls deep or whatever the fuck.” That almost makes Suguru laugh.

“I don’t think she’s gonna go for that one, no matter how good the dick is.”

“She doesn’t have to know.” Now he’s really thrilled. He doesn’t know what it is, but that lights something in him, stirs in his stomach and causes a little quiver in his brow.

“Fuck yeah, man,” he’s really laughing now, pointing at the journal harshly. “write that shit down.”

There’s something unspoken over them now, a deeper bond than they thought they could have. Neither of them would ever admit it, but it feels like they’re those two high schoolers again, counting down til they can become something fucking great. This is the feeling they’re supposed to get from their fathers’ stupid fucking contest. This is actual competition, a chance to actually win.

A new air falls on them, mixed back in with that warm, rich breeze.

“Okay, that settles that then.” Gojo offers, fingers tapping the binding of his book. “She has to be attending the start of the year banquet so that’ll be an excuse to meet her. Everything from then on is up to us.” Suguru always dreaded that shitty event, but now he finds himself doing mental math to count how far away it is.

Even if the whole thing is trivial, and even if you seem like the most uptight thing ever, Suguru is a man of pride. And prideful he’ll be.

“We still gotta do the ‘new year’ thing, you know. They’ll burst a fucking artery if we say we’re not interested.” His voice is gravelly and calm and so not anything he’s feeling, but he thinks Gojo buys it when he chuckles.

“Can you be excommunicated from being a womanizer? Because I think we would be.” They’re almost joking like everything is normal. It’s different, so much different, but they’re acting the same.

“I’m gonna go grab some water and maybe call one of your maids to make lunch, you want anything?” Suguru shakes his head, shifting in his seat as he tries his hardest not to look at the journal Satoru set on the side table.

“Suit yourself, I’ll be back.”

“Whatever,” He waits after Gojo walks out. Waits a good forty five seconds before he stands up, and he crosses the room in about three.

He glances over at the thrown aside notebook, eyes quick as he scans it. The handwriting is adjacent to messy, scattered and the page is littered with semi vulgar doodles and side bars. It’s coherent, though, and even though they both know Gojo had no intention of giving it to him, it’s got his signature at the bottom.

1. Full fucking!! Penis in vagina

2. No signs of being inebriated. Absolutely stone cold sober

3. If it takes longer than a month after everyone is introduced we’re both “a couple of fucking losers” (< Sugu’s words)

4. Orgasms are important ! Or at least near orgasms (she is a virgin)

5. Photo / video proof. If you can’t get it, you aren’t in it (haha! get it?)

He snickers at four, the uneasy tone in the second sentence almost self deprecating. Despite that, he can’t help but feel a smidge of respect that he ended up adding it to begin with.

He grabs the pen from the table, pressing into the paper too hard as he leaves his chicken scratch of a John Hancock. Okay, maybe this will be fun.

taglist… @moonlight-pearls @sharkerino @echerie

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