#oops posted before I finished sorry

[beets]

baby, bi bi bi

[ritsmaos]

this islike 2 weeks old neow but .. wanted to post smthn & had nothing new :3

mewper... orangw kitty...

[miasmaghoul]

miasma hiiii 💜 how’s about prompt 6 with mountaindew?

-mars (waywardsamaritan)

“shh. do you want them to hear? i bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?”

"Dew," Mountain hisses through grit teeth, fingers threaded through golden hair, "Dew - shit, slow down, oh -"

Dewdrop peers up at him with a hungry glint in those molten copper eyes. He's nuzzling the obvious bulge in Mountain's pajama pants, mouthing at the outline of his growing chubby. The little ghoul raises an eyebrow, pulling back to rub at him through damp flannel.

"Slow down?" A callused finger traces the ridge of his tip and Mountain shivers. "I haven't even gotten started."

That may be true, but Mountain's still half asleep and trying to get his bearings on the swaying bus. He'd rolled out of his bunk and stumbled to the bathroom without even opening his eyes. Hadn't noticed soft footsteps behind him until skinny arms had wrapped around his waist while he was washing his hands.

Dew had wasted no time in bullying Mountain's sluggish body against the door, hadn't so much as whispered a good morning before he'd dropped to his knees and pressed his face to Mountain's crotch. Before he had taken a deep breath and let out a satisfied groan, dragging a hot tongue over the lump of his soft cock to make it twitch.

Mountain thinks he can be forgiven for being just a touch out of sorts.

Dew's hair feels so soft between his fingers, most of it pulled back in a messy bun but with a few wispy strands framing his angular face. His cheek still holds the indents of his pillowcase, subtle creases near his eye. Something about them is oddly mesmerizing, and Mountain mindlessly strokes one with his thumb.

Then Dew gives him a nice squeeze, and Mountain lets out a truly pathetic whine.

"Oh, that's a pretty sound," the little ghoul coos, wide mouth curling into a devilish grin. "Do it again."

It's no trouble for Mountain to obey. Dew knows just how to touch him, always. Knows right where to press, to stroke, to tease - even the barrier of his pajamas offers no protection from those skilled fingers. Dew massages him with an ease that makes his knees weak, makes him whimper and groan into the silence surrounding them.

The little ghoul pulls Mountain's waistband down just enough to free his half hard cock, wraps an elegant hand around him, and when Dew gives a slow stroke Mountain's head thuds against the flimsy bathroom door.

"Fuuuuck."

He moans it long, low and much louder than he means to. He feels Dew's responding chuckle in the form of a puff of warm air against his swelling shaft.

"Shh," he says quietly, twisting his hand in a way that makes Mountain gurgle. "Do you want them to hear?"

Mountain stiffens, hands tightening in Dew's hair. The little ghoul makes a pleased sound, which really doesn't help the little frission of anxiety that crawls up Mountain's spine. It's easy to blame the early hour for his brain fog, for him forgetting that maybe an inch of plastic is all that separates them from the rest of their still-sleeping pack.

It's harder to explain the way Dew's soft words make his cock throb.

The little ghoul chuckles again, and Mountain rolls his neck. Lets his chin hit his chest. Dew's eyes glow up at him, filled with mirth and mischief. He's smiling again, and it's so very sharp at the edges.

"I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Mountain shakes his head, but the pretty pearl of fluid that beads up in his slit betrays him. Dew purrs deep in his chest at the sight, looking him straight in the eye when he swipes that sinful tongue over the tip and laps it right up. Mountain feels his ears go hot.

"Don't lie," Dew teases, his other hand sneaking up Mountain's sleep shirt, fingertips slipping through the fine dusting of hair on his belly. "You'd love it. Bet you're hoping we open that door and find the new kid listening in again."

Mountain makes a noise he doesn't have a name for, an embarrassing cross between a moan, a sob and a hiccup. His hips twitch forward of their own accord, into the tight channel of Dew's fist, and Mountain quails under the shit-eating grin on the little ghoul's face.

"That's what I thought," he lilts, pressing a sweet little baby kiss to Mountain's pretty pink mushroom tip. "Can't hide from me, big guy."

It shouldn't feel as good as it does, it really shouldn't. He's so hard, so fat in Dew's slight hand. Mountain whines when a larger blurt of pre leaks out, and doesn't miss the way Dew's eyes sparkle. The little ghoul smears the slick head over his lips, gets them all shiny, sticky, and Mountain's lucky he doesn't blow immediately.

"Guess we should give 'em a reason to listen."

Dew wraps those lovely lips around him, gives a firm suck, and all Mountain can do is offer an unholy prayer for mercy.

[faragonart]

@1driedpersimmon I just thought it'd be neet if they meet hee hee~

with @pali-himbo 's Vatii Kiri~

[goldpilot22]

what's it like?

[softodettes]

call me Xaden Liarson the way i lie about updating my fics

[oneironautart]

ok evil oc beam time again

[steddio]

steddie vegas au part 4

part 1; part 2; part 3; ao3

(thank you all so much for your kind words! this part gets spicy 🔥 if you want to skip the smut, it starts with "Steve holds Eddie’s gaze as he slowly strips off his shirt." you can come back at "Steve jolts back into consciousness abruptly")

–

“I can’t wear this, Robs, I look ridiculous.” 

Robin rolls her eyes. “You look hot, dingus, please don’t make me say it again.” 

Steve stares at himself in the mirror. He has on his favorite pair of vintage stone-washed jeans, which not only make his ass look phenomenal but at least offer some comfort to contrast the outrageous shirt Robin has put him in. She’d taken her scissors and a perfectly good black t-shirt into her bedroom an hour ago and emerged with something that can hardly be called a shirt anymore with how many holes she’d created. Worse than the slash on his left pec that nearly shows his nipple is the fact that she’d cropped it so that there’s a solid two inches of skin between his waistband and the frayed bottom. His happy trail is on full display, and Steve wants to scream that he’s a father and he shouldn’t dress like this, except he’s going to see Eddie. Rockstar Eddie. Who literally oozes sex appeal. Maybe Robin is right and Steve needs to step up his game.

He adds one last touch of hairspray to his hair and then admires Robin, who has somehow doused her space buns in glitter and is wearing electric blue eyeshadow. She’d been so thrilled to be invited (“VIP tickets, Steven! V. I. P. That means Eddie thinks you’re very important.”) and her enthusiasm had washed away the nerves that had haunted him since yesterday. He’s still not sure he can do this. Let Eddie see him out of his professional comfort zone. But he’s determined to try. Something about Eddie keeps tugging at him, and he wants more. He wants in a way he hasn’t let himself want for a long time now. 

He’s startled out of his thoughts by Robin grabbing his jaw in one hand and turning him toward her. “Finishing touch! Close your eyes.” He halfheartedly splutters in protest but lets her smudge eyeliner near his lashes. “There we go, all done.” 

He looks at them both in the mirror, side by side. They look young again, and it’s ridiculous, but he feels young again. He wants to say something, to tell her how much it means to him that she’s coming with him, that she’s supported him for so many years and pushed him to do this, but he settles for a kiss to the top of her head. He knows she understands. She always does. 

“Let’s go, I’m driving.”

Steve makes a point of not coming into Caesars when he’s not working. But this evening as he and Robin join the crowd flowing into the venue, he feels like one of a million other tourists and he’s caught up in the excitement of it all. Vegas at its core, all flashy showmanship and delight.

They make their way to the VIP section, at the front and slightly to the left of the stage. Robin disappears to grab drinks and Steve soaks everything in. He can feel eyes on him, dressed as he is and elevated above the crowd, and lets himself relish the attention. He wonders if this is how Eddie feels all the time and then banishes the thought before his head can get any bigger. 

Robin comes back with a gin and tonic and a shot of tequila each, and he scolds her for mixing alcohols but takes the shot anyway, sips on his drink while the lights go down and the opener comes on.

The music is rougher than his taste, but he’s heard far worse. Robin is already dancing beside him, arms flailing, completely unembarrassed. He settles for just nodding his head to the beat, feeling the heavy drums flow through him. When the opener finishes, he heads to the bar to get their next round. By the time he finally gets back through the crowd, the lights are dimming and the audience is chanting “Eddie! Eddie! Eddie!”

Robin turns to him, eyes huge with excitement. Steve hands her a tequila shot. “Bottom’s up,” he mouths and downs his own. As the lights start flashing and smoke billows off the stage, Steve feels like his heart is going to pound out of his chest. He grabs Robin’s hand to anchor himself, and when she looks at him, grinning, he can’t help but grin back. 

Suddenly there’s an eruption of yelling and whistles and Steve looks up to see Eddie striding on to the stage. With how close their seats are, Eddie looks larger than life, his normally substantial presence magnified tenfold so that his energy fills not just the stage but the whole venue. He’s wearing tight black pants that flare over platform boots and a fringed leather vest that shows off his tattooed chest. His hair is wild and mussed, and Steve can’t help but imagine running his fingers through it, wondering if Eddie would like it if he pulled. 

Steve isn’t sure if it’s the alcohol or just Eddie, but he’s flying, blood buzzing in his veins. As Eddie strums the opening note on his guitar, Steve feels it in his bones, as if Eddie is stroking over his ribcage. When Eddie starts singing, Steve feels like Eddie is singing just to him. 

His hypnosis doesn’t break until the end of the first song, when Eddie yells into the microphone, “Hello, Vegas!” Steve, Robin, and the whole crowd yell back in unison, “Hello, Eddie!” Eddie is all charm, graciously introducing his bandmates before beginning the opening notes of the next song. Right before he starts singing, Eddie’s eyes sweep to where Steve and Robin are standing. He meets Steve’s gaze and shoots him a wink. Steve must be having an out of body experience because he blows a kiss, which Eddie catches smoothly, miming putting it in his back pocket. 

Steve belatedly realizes that Robin is staring at him like he grew a second head. He mock-glares at her and mouths “shut up.” She raises her hands in surrender but he still hears her say under her breath, “ok dingus, get in there.” 

The rest of Corroded Coffin’s set passes in a blur. Steve finds himself dancing, letting himself match Robin’s wild movements. He’s sweaty, and smiling, and between each song he and Eddie exchange heated glances that are setting him on fire. By the time Eddie and the band are wrapping up their last encore, walking off stage to the echoes of “good night, Las Vegas!” Steve’s ears are ringing and he’s so dazed it takes Robin three tries to get his attention.

He turns to face her and sees his own wild energy reflected back at him. Grinning, she grabs his hand and pulls him toward the wings, brandishing her backstage pass at security like it’s a police badge. 

They’re led into a small waiting room where a tiny red-haired woman is talking rapid-fire into a cell phone, staring down at a clipboard. She hangs up when she notices them, and stretches out her hand. “Hi, I’m Chrissy, Corroded Coffin’s manager. You must be Steve, and this is…?”

Steve nods and shakes her hand. He waits for Robin to introduce herself but she’s just standing there dumbfounded, like she’s been struck by lightning. Steve raises his eyebrows at her but she doesn’t even notice him, fixated on Chrissy. Steve suppresses a laugh and chimes in, “And this is my friend Robin.” 

Chrissy doesn’t miss the emphasis on friend, and her neutral expression softens to warmth. “Robin, it’s a pleasure.” Chrissy touches Robin’s elbow gently and Steve swears he hears Robin squeak but his attention is interrupted as Eddie barrels into the room. He stops short, just inside the doorway and stares, open-mouthed at Steve. Steve stares back, all the buildup while Eddie was on stage making electricity arc between them. 

Steve hesitantly takes a step forward, unconsciously reaching out, wanting to touch. Eddie comes to meet him and suddenly they’re face to face, so close Steve can see the sweat on Eddie’s brow and the stubble on his chin. He wants to lick both, and he’s not nearly clear headed enough to prevent himself from leaning in. Eddie stops him with a gentle hand to his jaw, tracing down his neck, shoulder, and arm, fingertips grazing lightly across Steve’s bare skin. Steve shivers under the scrutiny until Eddie takes his hand and pulls Steve down the hall and into his dressing room. 

As soon as they’re inside, Eddie has Steve pushed against the closed door, one thigh pressed between Steve’s. Their chests are touching, breathing hard, and Steve relishes how Eddie inhales his exhales, taking a piece of Steve inside himself. Eddie leans in and traces his nose along Steve’s cheek and jaw. His hands rise to grip Steve’s waist, pulling him closer even as he uses his body to pin Steve firmly against the door. 

“You came,” Eddie murmurs, lips against Steve’s ear. He bites Steve’s earlobe softly and Steve tries not to embarrass himself by whimpering. 

“Yes, yes of course I came, I wouldn’t miss–” Steve cuts himself off with a breathless whine as Eddie’s mouth moves lower, to Steve’s neck and collarbones. His hands pet lightly over Steve’s exposed stomach. 

“What are you wearing, sugar?” Eddie gives Steve no time to answer, instead moving his hands up Steve’s chest, gently touching where his skin peeks through each hole that Robin had cut into his shirt. Steve is burning, he can’t think, can’t do anything but feel, every place Eddie touches a live nerve. “Are you trying to kill me,” Eddie groans, bending to suck a hickey on Steve’s exposed chest. 

Steve finally allows himself to touch, tracing the smooth plane of Eddie’s lower back and then the rough leather of his vest before finally burying his hands in Eddie’s mane of tangled hair. A sense of belonging settles deep in his belly, and he forces his frazzled mind to respond. “It’s you who’s killing me, baby.” Eddie’s breath hitches at the pet name. “You have no idea how hot you look on stage, had me hard in my jeans for hours.” He punctuates this with a slight roll of his hips so that Eddie can feel Steve against his thigh, can know what he’s doing to him. Eddie presses him even harder against the door, until Steve can feel an answering bulge. 

Eddie pulls back slightly to look Steve in the eye. His lips are spit-slick and Steve needs to kiss him, to taste him. He crashes their mouths together and the kiss is inelegant but delicious with desperation. Steve takes the lead, licking deep into Eddie’s mouth, and Eddie lets him, pulls him even closer. Steve succumbs to his earlier fantasy and tugs slightly on Eddie’s hair, delighted when he moans in response. Steve is fully hard now, and as the kiss gets increasingly desperate he decides he’s not above begging.

He manages to extricate himself briefly to get out, “Eddie, please.” Eddie makes a low noise in the back of his throat and slides his hands down to grab at Steve’s ass. Steve is nearly riding Eddie’s thigh, the friction an exquisite torture. “Please, baby, Eddie, please,” he begs again. With one last squeeze to Steve’s ass, Eddie pulls back and licks a long stripe up Steve’s neck, tracing the tendon there. 

“Shh, I’ll give you what you need, sweetheart, don’t worry,” he whispers in Steve’s ear. “But not here. I want you in my bed.” He leans in for one more kiss before pulling away, and Steve whines at the loss. “Come on, sugar, let’s get you somewhere comfortable. I want to take my time with you.” Steve nods, dumbly, unsure how Eddie is able to get full sentences out. After a few minutes of hopelessly trying to get themselves under control, Eddie gives up and pushes Steve out the door they came in. 

They make their way back through the waiting area of the green room, where they almost fail to notice Chrissy and Robin curled up together on the couch, deep in conversation. Eddie, who somehow seems to have his wits about him, leans over to have a low conversation with Chrissy while Steve just stares wide-eyed at Robin. He’s immensely grateful in that moment that they’ve known each other so long as to be able to communicate without words, because his horned up brain manages to comprehend that Robin is fine, that she’s taking Chrissy back to her apartment, and that Steve should go have fun. 

Eddie joins him again, and pulls Steve out of the green room and into the main area of the venue. “We have my suite all to ourselves tonight, Stevie.” Steve just presses himself closer to Eddie, loathe to leave any room between them. 

“Steve, I…” Eddie trails off. “I’m sorry about this, but we have to be careful. Going through the lobby.” Steve tries to get his brain back online, to match the gravity of Eddie’s sudden tone change, but he’s fuzzy with anticipation and alcohol. Eddie tries again, “We have to separate for a bit, sugar. I’ll meet you by the elevators and then we’ll go up together. Do you understand me?” Steve tries to nod, to communicate that he’ll do anything Eddie says, but Eddie is insistent. “I need a verbal confirmation, okay?” 

“Yes,” Steve manages to get out. “I’ll meet you by the elevators.” 

Eddie kisses his forehead, and then lightly pushes him forward. “Go first, I’ll follow.” 

Steve makes his way through the lobby, already missing Eddie’s presence. He feels floaty, giddy with excitement, his lust taking a backseat to the pure joy of getting to spend more time with Eddie, to the anticipation and delight of learning a new partner, of finding a rhythm. He presses the “up” button at the elevator bank and has to wait only a moment before Eddie is beside him again and they’re stepping into the elevator. 

Eddie presses the button for 14, and the doors have barely closed before Steve is on him again, kissing him as if it had been five days and not five minutes. This time he has Eddie pressed against the wall, and he uses his leverage to grind unashamedly, reveling in the pleasurable ache and the way he can feel Eddie’s returning hardness. When the doors finally ding open, they’re both flushed and breathless. 

Steve follows Eddie down the hall and into the suite where he stops short. “Holy shit, this is where you live?”

Eddie shrugs and makes a casual gesture as if to say, what? this? before he captures Steve’s lips in another searing kiss. They get lost in it for a long moment, tangled in each other, before Eddie pulls back to demand, “Bed. Now.” He manhandles Steve into one of the bedrooms, chasing him forward until the back of Steve’s knees hit the bed. Steve waits for Eddie to push him down, but Eddie steps back. Looks Steve up and down. 

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs. “You’re gorgeous, sugar. Make me want to ruin you.” 

Steve holds Eddie’s gaze as he slowly strips off his shirt. Traces one hand down his own stomach toward the fly of his jeans and watches as Eddie bites his lip. Undoes the button and pulls the zipper down. He starts to push his jeans down his hips when suddenly Eddie moves to kneel before him, covering Steve’s hands with his own. Eddie tugs off his jeans, and then mouths at Steve’s cloth-covered cock. 

“Shit, baby,” Steve groans. He runs one hand over Eddie’s cheek as Eddie soaks his boxers in spit. He’s fully hard now and throbbing and if Eddie doesn’t do something he’s going to come in his underwear like a teenager. “Eddie, please,” he begs. Eddie takes pity on him and pulls Steve out of his boxers and licks him from root to tip.

“Big boy, indeed” he says with a wink, before taking Steve in his mouth. The pleasure is overwhelming, and Steve tries and fails to keep himself from fucking forward into that wet heat. Eddie’s grip tightens on his hips, holding him in place while he moves his mouth up and down, swirling his tongue, drawing moan after moan from deep in Steve’s chest.

Steve feels himself barreling toward the edge, and it’s far too soon, he wants more. “Close, Eds, I’m close,” he bites out, and tries to pull back. Eddie holds him firm, taking him down to the root one more time before letting go with a pop. 

“Get on the bed,” he tells Steve, voice gravelly. Steve obeys, shimmying fully out of his boxers and jeans and all but throwing himself down on the duvet. Steve hears a drawer open and close and then Eddie is behind him, pulling Steve’s hips up and pushing his knees forward so that Steve is prone and exposed. He feels Eddie’s lubed fingers skim over his entrance before one gently pushes in. Eddie fingers him open carefully, smoothing one hand down Steve’s heaving ribs while adding a second and then a third finger. 

“Eddie,” Steve can’t help but whine. “I’m ready, please, I’m ready.” Eddie pulls his fingers out and then takes a moment to roll a condom on and add more lube before positioning himself.

“Tell me how much you want this,” Eddie goads, rubbing the tip of his cock against Steve’s entrance. 

“I want it so bad, Eddie,” Steve whines. “I want you, please, please fuck me.” 

Steve hears Eddie groan “fuck” under his breath before he’s pushing in, and Steve is lost in the pleasure-pain of being stretched. Eddie bottoms out and then stays there, letting Steve adjust. As he starts to slowly pull out again, Steve lets out a low whine. Eddie moves faster and faster, punching obscene noises out of Steve with each thrust. Steve feels his pleasure build, and he’s helpless to stop it as Eddie drags his cock against Steve’s sweet spot over and over. 

Steve belatedly realizes that Eddie is talking to him, murmuring filth under his breath. “You take me so well, Stevie, you feel so good. Yeah, baby, you like that cock in you, filling you up. You’re so good for me.” Steve just takes it, moaning in agreement. As he feels himself get closer and closer to the brink, Eddie suddenly pulls him up so that they’re both kneeling on the bed, Eddie’s chest pressed against Steve’s back. Steve leans his head on Eddie’s shoulder, nuzzling into his neck. Eddie wraps one arm around Steve’s chest and the other around his cock as he leans forward to slot his mouth against Steve’s. They kiss sloppily, Eddie pounding into Steve, pushing him to fuck his fist. 

Steve feels his orgasm approaching and manages to whisper, “Eddie, I’m going to come, please can I come.” He holds off only until he hears Eddie affirm, “come for me, sugar,” and then he whites out, overcome with pleasure.

When he comes to, he’s laying on his side, Eddie curled around him. He turns so they’re facing each other, and kisses Eddie on the nose. Eddie’s eyes are closed, and Steve briefly worries that he’d been too selfish. “Hi,” he murmurs. “Was that good? Did you come? ”

Eddie’s eyes open to meet Steve’s, and there’s so much warmth and joy in them that Steve is immediately put at ease. “Hi Stevie, welcome back” he says. “You were so good, love. I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard in my life.” Eddie leans forward and kisses Steve sweetly, lazily, like they have all the time in the world. Steve falls asleep, safe and secure in Eddie’s arms, thinking that maybe they do.

—

Steve jolts back into consciousness abruptly, cringing as the morning light hits his eyes. For a brief moment he’s disoriented, confused as to where he is and why he’s sweltering hot, but he settles down as last night’s events come back. Eddie is a furnace behind him and Steve extricates himself from the tangle of limbs and sheets and goes to use the bathroom. On the way back, he grabs his phone, startled to see four missed calls and over a dozen text messages. Confused, Steve opens his message app to read a series of frantic texts from Robin.

Robin: Steve. Holy shit.

Robin: Steve, I need you to pick up the phone.

Robin: I’m sure you’re having the fuck of your life, dingus, but you really, really need to check your phone.

These are followed by a photograph of two men in an elevator. It’s backlit and somewhat blurry, but Eddie’s face is unmistakable, as is his look of naked want. With a jolt, Steve realizes that the other man in the photo is himself, from earlier that night. Robin had texted the photo with a link to a tabloid article titled, “MUNSON TAKES HOME MYSTERY MAN AFTER CONCERT.”

He quickly checks the rest of his messages, and realizes there are several from Nancy and, even worse, one from Max. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Unthinking, he grabs his clothes from the hotel room floor and bolts.

--

continue to part 5.

read on ao3.

--

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[maeedrg]

The girl next door

Gojo x insecure fem reader

ᯓ★

Synopsis : in which you are a college student, and the roommate of Shoko. You meet Gojo Satoru, her friend, for the first time in a quite embarrassing way, and you directly can’t stand him. Loud, charming, handsome, flirty, teasing, everything to put you on your nerves. He kept joking around, hitting on you. But you were sure he was just playing. Because why would someone like him be interested in someone like you ?

Warnings : tooth rooting fluff, swearing, Gojo is a menace, some angst, insecurity, romantic comedy, slow burn, enemies (one sided) to friends, friends to lovers, alcohol consumption, pet names, smut, praise kink, p in v, foreplay, loving sex, some Shoko x Utahime

Words count : 21k (that’s… a lot)

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ Autor’s note : it’s my first fic that is over 20k words. I really enjoyed writing it so I hope you guys will love it too ! Not completly proof read tho, xoxo

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The first time you met Satoru was rather embarrassing.

It’s not been long since you knew your new roommate, Shoko. She was a very chill and nice girl, proposing to smoke with you, helping you with cores, cooking, and being very easygoing. She wasn’t often at the shared apartment. Either studying on campus, being a medicine major was quite hard (even though she told you she cheated a lot), or either hanging out with her friends.

You didn’t really know her friends personally. You only saw them on pics, pics that she posted on her personal social media. You remember thinking that they looked hot. A guy with white hair, that intrigued you. Another one with long black hair, that looked like a model. They both looked like models, actually. And others, girls and guys included. They all were insanely attractive, to the point that you thought you were like the black sheep of her pretty friends. That was mean to yourself, but you couldn’t help these small sentences of insecurity traversing your mind whenever you saw her new posts with them, or even when you kinda, you admit, went to stalk their accounts.

It didn’t take much for you to meet some of her friends, in the end. And maybe, maybe you wished it was in another situation. Because why the fuck you were sitting in your pajamas, next to the prettiest guy you ever seen, on your damn couch, on a wednesday night.

Let’s get back in time. Earlier that day, your roommate told you that she would bring two of her friends. You expected girls, since the last time it was one named Utahime that was hanging out in the warmth of the living room. So, once you came from your classes, the first thing you did when finally being back inside your apartment was to take a shower to wash off all the dirt that got accumulated through the day. After finishing to clean yourself with your favorite scented body wash, and all the routine that comes after your shower, you tightly wrap a towel around your body and open the door. You sigh, but then stop dead on your track.

“Shoko, where is the bathroom ? Oh- nevermind, I found it,” exclaims a voice, before you are facing a tall white haired man looming over you, raising his eyebrows and then grinning when seeing you. You gasp, realizing you were only wearing a towel in front of a total stranger.

“Oh my fucking god !”, you almost scream as you step back, and the stranger chuckles, raising up his hands to show he is clearly innocent. For a second, his blue orbs eye you down.

“Oops, sorry sweetie,” he says, turning around to give you some privacy as you felt the words die on your tongue at the surprise you had. You didn’t even react to the horrible nickname he called you, and quickly stepped to the side.

“You can use the bathroom, it’s free,” you say without waiting for an answer and dash towards the room, slamming the door behind you. 

You breathe heavily, wanting to bury yourself six feet underground. Alright, calm down. He barely had the time to see you. And the towel covered you enough. It wasn’t that bad… right ? You sigh, and then change in your pajamas. Even if you knew that Shoko brought friends that you clearly didn’t know, you didn’t want to bother to dress up for strangers. Comfortability was top priority, even more because of how tired you felt. Without further ado, you put on your clean pajamas. 

Satoru swore, from what he saw, even if it was only for a second, that he met an angel. His heart was beating abnormally quick as he washes his hands in the sink, and glances at himself in the mirror. The bathroom was filled with the scent of body wash, and some steam was glued to the atmosphere and the walls. Lord, he wanted to see more closely the face of Shoko’s roommate. He was curious, even more that he barely had the time to really look at her. Curiosity, yeah, curiosity, that’s all.

As you come back in the living room, you see Shoko smoking at the window, and at her side a tall guy with long black hair lazily half tied in a bun. He looks at you arriving, and as you turn your eyes, you see the guy from earlier. Sitting on manspread on the couch, oversized sweatshirt hood over his head, making him look even more comfy in his attire. His eyes lock with yours, and the corner of his lips stretches. Finally he could see what you really looked like. He stares at you.

“Here she is ! Sorry for earlier, uh…” he starts to say, tilting his head to the side.

“Y/n,” you answer, gazing back at him before not sparing him another one, going towards the table to take your phone in your bag. He nods to himself, repeating your name in his mind. 

“You really are a dick, Satoru,” groans Shoko, rolling her eyes. You smile at her, and she gives you back the grin.

“Violating the intimacy of a lady like that, that’s really not gentleman of you,” adds the black haired guy, and you can't help but let out a small laugh at his exaggeration. 

“Suguru, come on, it was an accident,” whines the so-called Satoru, pouting slightly. You couldn’t help but think he looked like a petulant child.

“I’m fine, I don’t care,” you clear out the situation, your hands in front of you to show that they could take it easy. 

“That’s good to hear,” smiles Satoru, and you look back at him for a second. You raise an eyebrow.

“Well, I’ll let you guys hangout together,” you annonce, ready to leave back to your own room. Not to add that right now, you were in your not so pretty pajamas, and you felt slightly embarrassed to be seen like that. At first you didn’t care, you just wanted to go fetch your phone discreetly in your bag, not wanting to dress up just for that. But you didn’t plan on starting a conversation with these strangers ! 

“No, stay y/n, so I can present them to you,” insists Shoko, as she blows the smoke of her cigarette at the window, and the black haired one inhales on his own, piercing purple eyes on you.

“Uh…” you start, unsure.

“We don't bite,” adds the so-called Suguru from what you heard the white haired guy call him earlier.

“Or maybe you’re too shy ?” taunts Satoru, and you frown. You let out a huff and sit next to him on the couch.

“I’m not,” you retort, and Satoru shifts on his spot to face you, leaning against the head of the couch and keeping his arms crossed, looking at you through his long lashes. Wow, up close he was prettier than you thought. Way too pretty, that was almost angering. On the other hand, Satoru was analyzing your face too, being able to look at it up close. You quickly turn your eyes away, thinking he maybe was looking at the imperfections on your skin. God, did the new pimple you had this morning was that big ? No way…

“These two annoying dickheads have been my friends since highschool. And this is my roommate !” explains Shoko as she points at the two guys, looking at you, then pointing now towards your direction when saying you were her roommate. All attention is on you, and you let out a nervous chuckle.

“Dickheads ?” asks Suguru, raising a disapproving eyebrow.

“The name is Gojo Satoru,” starts the white haired man without caring one bit for the nickname your roommate gave him. He smiles brightly, looking at your reaction and the way something glints in your eyes when you acknowledge what you heard by nodding.

“Geto Suguru,” continues his friend.

“L/n Y/n,” you finish.

Shoko continued the small presentation, and they all started to talk again. Either about highschool, back in time, their major, parties, or you. Gojo seemed eager to know more, asking questions, sometimes having no boundaries whatsoever with what he asked, but you quickly realized that he was just like that. You still were a bit on your guard around him. The way he so smoothly talked, being charming and overly flirty, made you think he was just a goddamn player. And that he never was really serious when talking to you. On the contrary, Geto was much calmer, to the point you wished that Satoru took some example of his friend. You didn’t know why, but the way they all engaged in conversation, you just were looking at them, barely participating. That pissed you off. Why were you acting like that tonight ? You felt somewhat intimidated, in front of Shoko’s friends. And that was the problem. 

“You single ?” Gojo askes out of the blue, leaning his chin on his palm as he slides his arm on the couch, eyes on you. Shoko and Geto were still at the window, talking together, even if they both ended their cigarettes minutes ago.

“Why ?” you retort, frowning.

“Can’t a guy ask ?” he muses, looking at you up and down. Wow, alright. Was he playing around ? To kill time with you ? You decide to indulge him a bit.

“No, I don’t have time for dating,” you answer, shaking your head after a sigh and bringing your left knee towards your chest.

“Wow, look at that, perfect match. I don’t do relationships either,” he says, lips stretching more and letting his white teeth to your seeing.

“I never would have thought,” you say ironically, teasing.

“Hey, are you saying I’m a player ?” he chuckles, clearly not hurt at all by the way you saw him.

“Kinda,” you admit, looking back at him, tilting your head to the side.

“Ehhhh, what can I say ? I have the charms that get the ladies,” he hums, narrowing his eyes.

“What a huge ego,” you raise your brows, hand on your chest to fake your chock.

“What ? You’re not interested ?” he asks, leaning closer and suddenly looking like he really wanted your answer on that question. One second pass as you both stare into the eyes of each other, one second where thousands of thoughts swirl in your head : ‘he really acts like a player’, ‘he asks that but he is not interested himself’, ‘it’s just for the joke and to boost his confidence if I say yes’, ‘but he kinda is hot, though’, etc.

“I barely know you, and you are the friend of my roommate,” you end up somewhat refusing.

“Ah, what a bummer… Here I thought I had my chance,” Satoru pouts, leaning backwards and the hood of his sweatshirt falls a bit more on his snowy hair.

“Poor you,” you roll your eyes and stand up from the couch, dusting your pants. You do a sign to Shoko that she sees from the corner of her eyes.

“Whatever, I need to study in my room, see you all,” you wave, Suguru says good luck and Satoru doesn’t say anything as he bites his thumb looking at you while you walk away, leaving an empty spot on the couch next to him.

Satoru was wondering. Why was he so… intrigued ? 

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

You were sitting in the library of the university, busy studying for your upcoming exams. It was rather quiet, even more quiet when you were the last one left before the closing hour of the campus. Students went back home, busy with their daily life. Well, you didn’t want to study at your apartment. After what happened last time, you were quite nervous at the idea that Shoko could have brought her friends. 

It’s not that you didn’t like them, just… you felt overly quieted down. And you hated it. You weren’t as comfortable as usual when being with your usual group of friends, or with Shoko being only the two of you. You were quieter, less sociable, and everything that came with your personality. But God, Gojo was so… eccentric, his personality was louder than yours at first glance, and it directly outshined you the moment you met him. It kinda made you hold a grudge. Maybe you weren’t honest with yourself ? Maybe you just were nervous in his presence ? And for fuck’s sake, you despised feeling nervous because of a man. Geto, on the other hand, wasn’t as loud as his white haired friend, gentler and giving more of his attention, but he made you somewhat nervous too because of his aura and intense stare. What a deadly duo they were.

Ugh. You try to concentrate back on work, tapping your pen on your paper, looking at the empty table you were sitting at. But then, the quietness of the moment gets interrupted not because of your thoughts, but because of familiar voices. The one of Shoko, and her two other best friends, with other persons that you didn’t recognize.

“Y/n, you’re here ?” says your roommate, surprised, approaching you as in the back you are met with the piercing blue eyes of Gojo. He looks at you up and down before snapping back his attention to someone making a joke and laughing heartily at it.

“Yup, studying. Didn’t expect you to see you here right now with all your friends,” you answer, stretching your back as you look at the brunette, and she smiles, sitting next to you when taking a chair.

“They wanted to come to the library too, to study, but I don’t trust Gojo to do his homeworks for one second,” she explains, rolling her eyes and winking at you. At the same time the white haired male turns around and wraps his arm around the shoulder of Shoko, standing behind the two of you. You could smell his cologne by how close he was, and he munches on a minty chewing gum, the fresh scent filling your nose.

“What ? Hey, I can be very serious when needed ! You hurt me here, Shoko…” he whines, and then glances at you, giving you a grin as the corner of his lips stretches even more when noticing the way you frown. You look back at him, but forget to answer his smile because of how mesmerized you are- no, wait. Mesmerized ? No, no. You were just distracted for a second here… You look back at the other part of the people gathering around the table, Geto sitting in front of you and throwing a pencil to the head of his best friend.

“Quite it. And come sit to study, instead of joking around,” he sighs saying that. Gojo grabs the pencil, groaning and huffing, standing back up and sitting next to the black haired male.

“Yes wifey,” he rolls his eyes, answering. 

You keep your gaze on your paper, and try to not listen too much to their small talk about their exams, keeping your mind focused on your own work. Other girls sit around, with a few guys. The at first lonely table was now full, to the point that they had to bring new chairs. You were slightly squeezed in between Shoko and another guy. You sigh deeply, and can’t help but look at the corner of your eyes the way Gojo so easily engages conversation with the others on the table. Cracking flirty jokes, making some of the girls fawn over him before Geto reprimands him. Everything looked so easy for him. As if his tongue was velvet, words rolling down off his mouth.

Satoru kept having his eyes looking at your attempt of concentration, the way you were biting on your lower lip, or sometimes glaring at him when he was being too loud. He saw it all, and he couldn’t help but want to see more of this facial expression, slowly getting addicted to the deathly and annoyed glare you threw at him when he was laughing a bit too much and stopped you from studying silently. 

On the other side, you noticed nothing of that. You even felt smaller than ever, like an intruder in this group of people that knew each other and joked and flirted along so easily. Outshining you. Aside from Shoko, you didn’t understand why they were even sitting here with you. I mean, there were plenty of other free tables. Every other table, actually, since the library was empty aside from you when they arrived.

You look at how Gojo is lazily leaning against his chair, legs sprayed and crossing his arms over his chest as he grins at what one of the girls of the group is saying. Suguru participates in the conversation, apparently being about a group project for one of their courses. Shoko throws anecdotes to what happened last time they did a group project back in highschool. Right, you totally remember that too… That was ironic, you had no fucking idea what they were talking about, and you felt even more left out and pissed off. Why bother sitting here if you don't even get included ? Aside from Shoko asking you earlier if you wanted her to cook dinner for the two of you, that you happily accepted.

But fuck, this damn ass smirk at the corner of the lips of Gojo is pissing you off so so much. You tap your pencil against your paper more frequently, again and again as he cracks another joke that makes some of the other persons giggle. You sigh, and he looks at your facial expression. Damn, you looked cute.

As Gojo laughs loudly at what Suguru said, balancing himself on his chair, you finally snap and bang your pencil on the table and look at him sternly.

“Can you stop being so loud ? I can’t concentrate since earlier, and it’s pissing me off. Either you shut up and work, or you go be loud as you want but outside the library,” you exclaim, which makes everyone look at you quite surprised. Satoru has his eyes open wider, and he swore that he just felt like you stole his heart at your tone of voice being sooo mad at him. Fuck, was it bad that he wanted to make you angrier ?

“I told you, Satoru,” sighs Geto as he shrugs and nudges his best friend, at least agreeing with you. Shoko chuckles slightly, looking at the scene, amused.

“Wow, easy sweetheart. Didn’t mean to be that annoying. Sorry ?” he raises an eyebrow, looking at you as he tilts his head to the side, staring right back at your face. You didn’t know why, but the way he apologized angered you even damn more. And the way he kept looking at you, holding eye contact with no shame made you slightly nervous, which served to worsen your annoyance.

But then you hear some of the rest of the group mock him, or defend him, and that makes you roll your eyes. His damn fangirls and fanboys were a pain in the ass right now, and you just wanted to bang your head on the table at this exact moment.

“Excuse Satoru, he likes to have all the attention on him,” whispers Shoko to you, and you sigh at her words. It’s not like it was her fault.

Finally, it calms down, and instead of talking, or even studying like he said, Satoru was just staring at you, not looking away but instead analyzing the way the muscles of your face move each time you think or read something. The air shifts and you look back up, your eyes meet his, and you quickly look back at your notebook as if nothing happened. Did you have something on your face ? Why would he even be staring in the first place ?

After some minutes, it was too much for you. You felt like suffocating, and the air of the atmosphere was getting thick with tension. You were agonizing, and then without waiting any more seconds you pack your things in silence and stand back up. Shoko looks up at you, surprised.

“Already going ?” she asks, eyebrow raised.

“Yep, I’ll study in my room. See you for dinner,” you explain under the burning gaze of Satoru. You put on your bag over your shoulder and glance at the table before stepping back.

“See you, y/n,” smiles at you Suguru, and you are quite surprised that he remembered your name. So you smile back and give him a small wave before walking away.

“Goodbye, Geto” and you leave. Satoru huffs, wondering why did his best friend had the chance to receive your smile, but not him. Once you are out of sight, you finally breathe again and open the door of the library before stepping outside. 

But then as you walk in the corridor, alone, you hear quick footsteps behind you. Curious, you turn around, only to be met by the Gojo Satoru jogging towards your direction on the empty hallway. You turn around, ready to leave, deciding it wasn’t your business to know why he walked out of the library.

“Y/n,” he says your name. And you frown. He came to talk to you ? But why ? As you spin your head, he is right by your side, stopping in front of your confused face, almost looming over you because of how tall he is.

“Uh, yes ?” you ask, unsure.

“You’ mad at me ?” questions directly Satoru, hands in his pockets as he gazes at your eyes. Him and his damn blue eyes that made you so nervous. Shit, annoying as hell.

“I mean, you did piss me off, but you ended up shutting up so… not as much as earlier, I guess,” you admit, looking away, and then slowly back up at him.

“Sorry for earlier,” he adds, analyzing your reaction, and somewhat looking more apologetic compared to 20 minutes ago.

“No need to apologize twice, you already did earlier,” you retort, and you see him slightly pouting at the way you rejected his words.

“But I really wouldn’t want a cutie like you to be mad at me, so I’m just making sure, ya’ know ?” Satoru taunts, cheeky grin eating his face, and that makes you scoff at his flirtatious comment. Cutie ? He had to be kidding, seriously… He looked like a womanizer, after all, so you didn’t take his words to heart at all.

“Obviously…” you end up answering sarcastically with nonetheless an amused smile on your face. Gojo just felt like he won the moment your lips stretched to bless his eyes with your beautiful small smile of amusement. And that makes his grow larger. He steps back, leaving you space.

“Alright, see you soon, y/n,” he winks at you before turning around.

“Goodbye, Gojo,” you finish as you walk away too, on the opposite side.

Double win ! Satoru managed to hear his name roll down your tongue, and even if it wasn’t his first name, he didn’t care. He waits for you to be out of view to have a small leap of success. He was glad you didn’t see him do that, you would have cringed and thought he was crazy… And it’s with a happy facial expression that Gojo enters back the library, facking a nonchalant walk, but inside, his heart was hammering like a wild horse.

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

After having a stressful week, you just wanted to relax, and put your mind somewhere else by chilling at home. As you sit on the ground in front of the TV, you decide to dust off the Wii controllers and console. Why not play some Mario Kart ? It’s been so long since you did, and it could make you feel like a kid again, without all the stress of university and student life on your shoulders. That could indeed be nice. 

Sitting back down on the couch, you start to play alone, since your roommate was out with friends. You get concentrated, barely noticing when Shoko comes back home, in the middle of a party and if you did look away, that would probably make you fail and be at the bottom of the list. You squint your eyes, focused, and then throw bananas, laughing as it makes one of the characters slip on it. 

“That was sly of you here !” suddenly exclaims a voice behind you, and you look up surprised, only to see blue eyes half lidded as Gojo smiles cockily at you. 

“Gojo-” you say surprised, as he jumps and plops next to you on the couch. Behind, Geto and Shoko are waving at you as a hello. You raise even more your brows, before looking back at the screen and realize your kart got stuck on the grass, making you the 7 in the classment, when you were the first some seconds ago. You groan, annoyed.

“Fuck !” you exclaim, trying to get back on track.

“You don’t play that well,” states Satoru, leaning on the couch spreading his arms on each side, looking at your game play.

“Excuse me ? That is your fault if I'm suddenly low in the ranking ! You caught me off guard !” you justify yourself as you speed up, frowning and leaning towards the screen to be even more concentrated.

“Don’t be a sore loser, y/n,” he teases, clearly getting on your nerves. And Lord, he just wanted to see that angry face again. The one you made back at the library was just so cute, he had to make you have it a second time. You couldn’t blame him, could you ?

“I’m not a sore loser- just shut up, I’m concentrated,” you hiss, glaring at him on the side, and you feel your anger rising at his antics. He continues to pester you, which made you arrive 4th on the podium at the end of the race. You lean back on the couch, defeated.

“Awwww… boo. Lemme show you how a winner plays, yeah ?” Satoru nudges you and grabs your Wii controller. You try to take it back but he lifts his arm up, out of reach for your smaller frame. 

“Seriously ?” you sigh, already pissed to the bone, as he just smirks at you, eyes looking down at your face that gets closer each time you try to take the controller back.

“Gojo, stop flirting like a 13 years old kid,” chuckles mockingly Shoko, sitting on a chair drinking some can beer with Suguru at her right, looking at the scene clearly amused.

“Hey, at least that works !” he exclaims as he gives her a wink, and you stand up to snatch the controller away but he quickly grabs your arm and makes you fall under him. You gasp of surprise, hair a mess now, and soon realize what just happened and in what position you were. His large hand that was wrapped around your wrist feels strangely electrifying, and you feel your stomach turn at how dangerously close he was.

“That doesn’t work !” you exclaim firmly. Gojo pouts and lets you go, letting you breath as he backs down to give you some space. 

“Be nice, Satoru,” lectures Suguru, his voice dripping like honey which makes the white haired male calm down. He sits back down on the couch, crossing his arms as if he just got scolded, still holding the controller. You sigh and stand back up, walking towards the drawer of the tv to grab one of the spare controllers you had from your childhood. You sit back next to your new found nemesis.

“Let’s compete, and we’ll see who is the sore loser now,” you announce, more like ordering him, turning on your controller as player 2. Of course you exchange with Satoru, wanting to be the one to control the Wii.

“A challenge, sweetheart ?” he smiles, choosing a character and its kart. He surprisingly picks princess peach, which makes you chuckle, but actually didn’t really surprise you that much.

“I’ll crush you,” you say as a matter of fact, getting suddenly serious when picking a road to compete now.

“Nah, I’d win,” he says confidently, spreading more his legs and glancing at your concentrated face. He had to say, he was on cloud nine right now. Meanwhile, Shoko and Geto are interested in the race, looking at the screen as it starts. 

“If I win, you owe me a wish,” he taunts.

“Deal, but if I win, you’ll be the one owing me a wish,” you answer, picking a box gift and getting turtle shells. Satoru was in front of you, so you threw some at him. The first two he avoids them easily. You frown, surprised that he managed to do so. 

“‘kay cutie,” he answers lazily, and as you throw the last one, it doesn’t reach him, but instead one of his teammates. You groan, but at least it’s not a total fail.

“You can’t beat me. I played this game thousands of times !” he adds confidently, speeding up and you struggle to catch him up on the rainbow road.

“You’re a nerd,” you spat.

“So what ? I’ll beat you in any video game, actually,” he scoffs, both of your karts next to each other, at the verge of making one fall from the rainbow.

“Boohoo, you stink,” you mock him on purpose, leaning closer to the tv, struggling, as Satoru stays laid back on the couch.

“Hey, I shower ! Even if I play League of Legend !” he defends himself, which makes Geto and Shoko laugh at this whole bickering you two had.

“Bahahahaha !” you can’t stop but laugh, before calming yourself to try to get back on track.

The race gets risky, and it’s the last part of it. No matter what magical box you use, you never manage being top 1. And that makes you wonder how Satoru could be that good at this game, being almost unfair as if trying to beat the god of Mario Kart. Your kart is back side to side to Gojo’s, and then, he has the nerves to tease you, before suddenly doing a skid and pushing your kart off the road. You scream of terror, when the race ends and Satoru ends up being top 1.

“You son of a bitch !” you scream, eyes wide open, being put back on the road and ending up the 9th. You see red, glaring at him, and you only are met with his stupid wolfish grin, eyebrows raised and leaning lazily on the couch as if he did nothing wrong.

“Told you, I’d win,” he simply says, winking at you.

You just wanted to rip off his stupid smirk out of his face, beyond pissed that you lost. You stand up from the couch, walking towards the kitchen to drink water and to try to calm yourself down.

“You did me dirty at the last second ! I could have won !” you defend yourself, slamming back the glass of water on the kitchen counter. Satoru follows suit, stepping slowly towards you with his hands nonchalantly in his pockets.

“That’s part of the game, y/n,” he shrugs, before cornering you, his trumphic smile reaching his eyes. He clearly was very pleased with himself, and this situation. Lord, how infuriating he was.

“Stop being cocky,” you glare at his pretty blue eyes, and Satoru bites the inside of his cheek at how excited he gets when seeing your sweet angry face. He loved it. Since last time at the library, it suddenly became like an addiction of his, to see your facial reactions. They were so enticing, after all. How could you blame him ? He was just curious to see more. So much more.

“You still owe me a wish,” he muses, and you sigh, drinking silently your water.

“I know….” you say. Satoru hums to himself, thinking about it. He was looming over you, halfway hiding the light behind him. You were cornered, forced to listen to his wish and bragging about winning.

“Bake me cookies. Shoko brought some of yours last time, and I tried one. Since then, I’ve been dying to eat more of it,” he suddenly orders and explains, biting his lower lip at the imagination and the recall of the sweet taste of your baking.

Without realizing, you felt flattered that he enjoyed your baking that much. You made these cookies before meeting him, actually. And it was true that Shoko told you she would bring some, if you accepted, to her friends. Who would have thought that Gojo Satoru would have tested them and dreamt about them before even knowing you in person ? You start to wonder if Shoko talked about you too, and if yes, what did she say ?

“Well, I can do that… But not now, I’m tired, so another day. And Shoko will bring them to you,” you end up accepting, not like Satoru would let you have the choice.

“No, you bring them to me. It would only be fair, right ?” he corrects, posing one of his hands on the counter, right next to your waist. You look up at him.

“Fine… Alright, alright, diva,” you roll your eyes, making Satoru’s smile grow wider.

“Aaaand, since you can’t fulfill my wish today, how about you give me a kiss on the cheek as a compensation ?” he proposes, tilting his head to the side, his finger tapping right next to you. You fluster, giving him a glare that he drinks up like honey.

“Gojo, what ?”

“Come ooon ! Just a peck on the cheek !” he insists, pouting and doing his puppy eyes. 

“I swear to God…” you sigh, before going on your tiptoes to reach his face. He beams, and leans down to give you more access. The moment your soft lips touched his cheek, he ascended to heaven, teeth showing because of how much he was smiling. His eyes were half lidded with mischief, and if you noticed enough you could see the tip of his ears slowly turning red.

“Atta girl. See when you want ?”

“Leave me alone,” you shake your head, slightly smirking at his antics as you walk back towards the living room.

“No, let’s play again !” he suddenly says, wrapping his arm around your shoulder by surprise. You look up at him only to be flashed by his boyish grin that he harbors happily.

“Nuh-uh !” you try to escape, but he forces you to sit down next to him, grabbing back the controllers that were on the couch.

“Yuh-uh !” he insists, starting another party.

You did end up having multiple other Mario Parties with him, to the point that Satoru himself, who at first came with Suguru to spend time with Shoko, ended up spending all evening with you. Not that Shoko cared, she did enjoy seeing him looking like a kid when having fun with you. Maybe that her and Geto were secretly rooting for him to shoot his shot. Who knows ? You couldn’t know, but you still were having way more fun than you expected. In fact, you and Gojo were getting pretty well along, bickering quite often. You barely knew him, but the way he acted, directly made you feel like you did know him for years. Gojo Satoru was just like that. His charms, his annoying behavior, his easy going nature, his jokes, his teasing, his lack of boundaries, all these little things made him look approachable, even if in reality, he wasn’t at all. 

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

As planned, some days later, you found time to bake the cookies Gojo wanted you to make. At first, you completely forgot, but then, an unknown number suddenly contacted you, asking for the cookies to be made. It obviously was Gojo Satoru. Thanks to Shoko, after pestering her for quite some time, he managed to get your number. In all honesty, him asking you by text for the cookies was just an excuse to talk to you and annoy you occasionally. But you didn’t know that, only thinking he was interested in getting his reward for winning against you last time.

So here you were, with the freshly baked cookies in your hands. Satoru told you to come see him on campus to give him the chocolate chip cookies. You then receive a call, your phone vibrating in your pocket. With your free fingers, you grab it and see it simply was Gojo. You brace yourself and answer after some seconds, not wanting to look desperate by answering at the first ringtone.

“Y/n ! Where are you ?” suddenly exclaims the cheerful voice of Satoru.

“The question is where are you ? I got the cookies,” you reply, turning around to see if you could notice his tall frame in this crowd of students all around you.

“I’m close to the cafeteria, next to the red bench,” he explains, and you hum before starting to walk again towards your destination.

“Alright, I’m on my way, so don’t move,” you answer, squeezing the tupperware of cookies against your chest.

“Yes ma’am, I’m staying right here,” he teases, and then you stop the call. Barely two minutes later, you see his snowy white haired head some meters away. You smile, and walk faster. But when you approach, you notice a bunch of girls surrounding him. Your smile falters slightly, and you quickly try to keep a neutral face. What was that feeling ? Jealousy ? No, why would you ? You shake your head, and then Gojo spots you. He flashes you a joyful grin, waving at you.

“Y/n !”

You can’t help but soften at his cheerfulness. What was amusing with Satoru, is that if he kept a straight face, everyone would think he was cold and unapproachable. But the way he always smiled and was loud enough for people in another city to hear him, completely broke this idea of coldness. The girls surrounding him look at you, curious of who you were.

“Hey,” you say, not only to Satoru but to the fellow girls as well. “Here, your cookies, you better enjoy it because I had to use all my remaining favorite chocolate to make the chips,” you warn, giving him the box. He beams, and his fingers brush against yours when taking the tupperware. That single stupid innocent touch made you linger your gaze on him.

“Ah, what an angel,” he drawls, winking at you. That brings some stare towards you at his flirty behavior, and you feel slightly nervous, brushing it off as if it was nothing.

“Give me back the tupperware when you’re done,” you order, and he whispers saying “bossy”. One of the girls wraps her arm around his bicep and leans towards him, looking at the cookies.

“Oahhhhhh, Gojo, could you feed me some ?” she bats her eyelashes saying that, looking at him. You can’t help but think how pretty she looked, and quite sure of herself to blatantly be that touchy and flirty with him, which were some guts you didn’t have. The remaining girls add themselves in the conversation, swooning over him like moths towards a bonfire. You felt suddenly left out. Not necessarily because of the way you suddenly weren’t part of the discussion anymore, standing awkwardly, but because you felt like they were from another world. One far away from you.

Satoru himself and these women looked like super models. They clearly had this type of face that would make any person at their feet, and it just made you realize how Gojo was out of your league, being a beauty and surrounded by beauties too. You weren’t very confident in your own beauty, having strong moments of insecurity. And damn, you hated feeling like shit right now. Satoru did nothing wrong, these girls too, but here you were, moping around and your heart sinking to your heels for something so stupid.

Gojo laughs at what they say, a cheeky grin and eyes twinkling with a light of mischief. This ugly and nasty emotion was boiling inside of you. With what happened this past few times, you thought that he maybe could be interested in you. But seriously, why would he when these supermodels-like were always surrounding him ? Being one himself ? You qualified your beauty as average, boring, even, nothing standing out of the ordinary. Yeah, this growing crush you had against your will was better shoved down the ground. You didn’t belong next to him.

You sigh, take a deep breath, acting like everything was alright, and then turn around. Satoru directly notices this change of mood and the way your back was now facing him. He frowns, slightly feeling guilty. Did he on purpose try to act all flirty just to make you jealous and see if it works ? Wanting to see this angry face he enjoyed so much last times, the way your mouth and brows twitched and this beautiful glare he longed for ? Yes. Did he feel like a dick right now after blatantly ignoring you ? Yeah.

He suddenly grabs your arm, and you spin your face towards him, surprised by his move. Did he forget anything ?

“Actually… wait,” he says, but then his words die down on his throat. He actually had no single idea of what to say, no single one. The way you looked at him made his mind blank, and it was infuriating because usually his head was full of sentences to shout all the time. Why now he had nothing to say ? Seriously ?!

“Uh… don’t tell me you want more cookies, I won’t bake you more, unless you pay me,” you say, trying to act casual and like your usual self. That cracked a smile on his face.

“First of all, I would for sure ask you to bake me cookies again. And second… I… I don’t want to eat these cookies alone, so come with me,” he ends up trying to regain his eternal confidence, straightening his posture.

“Well, we wanted to eat these with you, so-” starts one of the girls, and Satoru wraps his arm around your shoulders as he gives you a squeeze.

“Nope, sorry girls, I’m greedy for sweets, I don’t share. Only with the baker right here,” he explains, giving you a wink at the end of his sentence. You give him a confused look, wondering why he suddenly proposed that. 

“Ehhhhh ? You’re so mean !” pouts one of them, and Satoru shakes his head.

“Nahhhh, can’t do, so see ya,” he finishes, before turning on the other side and dragging you with him without waiting for any answer, and all that so shamelessly. You look at him, and he just smiles at you. Fuck, that makes your heart flutter for a second. You didn’t need that right now.

“Why did you do that ?” 

“What ? Can’t I eat cookies with you now ? You’re the one that baked them, it’s only fair if I let you at least eat one of them. I’m nice, right ? Normally I never share sweets,” he justifies himself, and you raise an eyebrow before nodding to yourself. Right, Satoru was just being nice, nothing else. Surely anyone else would have done the same, it’s called being polite, no ? You brush it off by letting out a laugh as you both walk towards a more secluded place of the campus, his arm still around you. 

“I didn’t know you had a sweet tooth,” you comment, analyzing him up and down.

“Excuse-me ? Me ? A sweet tooth ? No way, I don’t… I just enjoy some sweet treats here and there, like everyone,” he answers sheepishly. 

“The way you justify yourself makes me feel like you do have a sweet tooth, Gojo,” you tease, inhaling the fresh air of outside as you spot a bench some meters away. He spots it too, and you both walk towards it.

“Well, I do have a sweet tooth for indeed some sweet things. For example, a cutie like you,” he flirts, tilting his head to the side to look at you up and down better. You roll your eyes at his antics.

“Are you always like that ?” you scoff playfully, not buying one second of what he says.

“Like what ?” he asks as he makes you sit down next to him, and he opens the tupperware, his arm leaving your shoulder and making you shiver at his warmth disappearing. 

“Flirty.”

“Well, we can say that. But you are an exception,” he corrects, leaning against the bench and inhaling the scent of the freshly baked sweets. He licks his pink lips. They looked plump, kissable even.

“Yeah, right….” you snap back of your unholy thoughts, and say that ironically.

“I’m being for real here,” he whines, facing you and leaning his head towards yours, blue eyes boring into yours.

“Ok, Gojo. Instead of talking, try a cookie,” you roll your eyes and grab one of your bakings.

“Boss me around more, I like it,” he flirts, and maybe he wasn’t really joking when he said that. Who knows ?

You shove a cookie in his mouth the moment he gets too close, making him have a startled face, but then he munches on the sweet and his cheeks turn pink. He swallows thickly, eyes opening wider as he takes the cookie in between his fingers.

“I think I just tasted heaven,” he whispers, before literally gulping down in flashing light speed the remaining. You quickly grab one for yourself in the box, scared he would eat everything before you could even have the chance to taste your own baking.

“Don’t exaggerate too much, but welcome, I guess ?” you answer slightly flustered by his praising, but that only makes him smile even more.

“Believe me when I say that ! I’m ready to pay you everyday to have those again !” he exclaims when grabbing you by the shoulders while you bite on your food.

“Wow- really ?”

“Or instead I should marry you, and then, I’ll be able to enjoy all for myself your baking…” he continues, thoughtful as he leans closer, eyes darting towards your lips that had some leftover  crumbs. You almost choke on your bite, but quickly remind yourself that this is Gojo saying that, and he obviously wasn’t being serious here, only joking around like usual.

“You’re greedy like that ?”

“I am greedy if it’s you, yeah,” he corrects, fingers slightly squeezing your shoulders, making you look at him.

“Maybe you should marry a cake, that would be easier,” you joke, brushing off his flirting.

“And eat my cake as soon as I reach the wedding night ? I would be too sad once I’m done and seeing that nothing is left… No, I prefer to eat you out and then you can bake me sweets every day-” he starts to say, cocky smirk plastered on his face, and your blood rushes towards your face and heat possesses all your body at the mention of being eating out by Gojo Satoru himself.

“Whaaaa, shut up !” you directly stop him by slamming your hand against his mouth to not let him continue his quite perverted comment. He really had no single boundaries when talking. That was crazy, and still very new to you. Your heart was hammering against your chest, trying to ignore the images of having sex with him on an imaginary wedding night popping in your mind.

Satoru easily brings back your hand down by holding your wrist, not after licking your skin teasingly. You do a disgusted face, screaming a “ewwww” loudly, and whipping his saliva on his own shirt. He can’t help but laugh strongly at your distorted facial features and how bothered you looked, in all its meanings. 

“What ? I’m just saying.” He shrugs nonchalantly, and that makes you roll your eyes again, which can’t help but make him grin even more.

“Eat your cookies or I’m taking them back,” you threaten him, trying to grab the box but he quickly withdraws it away from your reach, protecting it like a sacred treasure. He then stares at you, sliding down at your lips, before using his thumb to wipe some crumbs of chocolate at the corner of your mouth. He brings it to his own lips, sucking on it, giving you a cheeky smirk in return of your shocked face.

“You told me to eat your cookies, there were some leftovers on your face. I couldn’t let it go to waste like that,” he justifies himself, grabbing another cookie and biting on it as if he did nothing wrong.

“You’re gross.” 

“And you’re cute,” he retorts smoothly, winking at you.

“Stop being a flirt for a second !” 

“No can do.”

You stayed firm on your ground that Gojo Satoru was out of your league. But, because there is always a but… Maybe it didn’t feel so wrong to sometimes let yourself hope for even something tiny with him ? It couldn’t hurt that much, right ?

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

In the quietness of your apartment, you just finished gathering your things in your bag for the next day. As you enter the bathroom, starting your skincare routine, it’s when someone rings on the doorbell. Curious, you didn’t expect anyone. Maybe it was for Shoko ? You quickly put on some shorts, and walk towards the entrance. The moment you open the door, you are met with Satoru standing in front of you. He was totally drenched in water. Hair sticking to his forehead, clothes glued to his frame, scandalously showing the lines of his body. You realize that outside it was raining, quite a lot, meaning he probably didn’t have any umbrella right now, and it’s for that he was in this both pathetic and sexy state.

“Gojo ? What the- you’re soaked !” you exclaim and step to the side to let him enter the warmth and the dry air of your home. He smiles and leans down a bit to enter, being slightly too tall or else he would bump his head. You only noticed that now, staring at his figure.

“Forgot my umbrella. I was outside with friends, and it started to rain like a bitch. Shoko’s place was close to where I was, so I came to shelter here until it would calm down,” he explained, hand whipping his wet hair backwards, leaving his pretty face bare. Some pearls of rain roll down his cheeks, and you look at one falling on his pale skin. He catches you staring, so you directly turn around to walk towards the living room.

“Shoko is not here, she went to drink with her classmates at a bar. She’ll be back later,” you say.

“She wouldn’t mind if I stayed. Do you mind ?” he asks, taking off his shoes and walking towards where you are. 

“I pity you. So you can stay until the rain stops,” you accept, smirking at your own teasing and he scoffs, grinning wider.

“How thoughtful of you, I'll always remember this beautiful act of kindness !”

“Instead of joking around, come in the bathroom, I'll give you a towel so you can dry yourself,” you sigh, answering him, letting out a small laugh to his over exaggerated reaction. He raises his eyebrows and follows you not without saying a “yes ma’am”.

As you enter back the bathroom, the music that was playing on your phone on the sink earlier is still on. You hum, and grab a towel before giving it to Satoru. He thanks you, and while he starts to wipe his drenched hair, you resume back your skincare routine. The quietness of the room is filled by the songs of your playlist in the background.

“Skincare ? Wait, lemme guess, is this…a mositruze ?” he asks, breaking the silence as he leans towards you. 

“A moisturizer, Gojo. I don’t even know what you pronounced,” you chuckle, correcting him, and then apply the cream while gazing at him in the mirror. You see how he stares at the white texture that dissolves into your face. And oh, it was so unfair how his skin was flawless and just perfect, wishing you could have the same. 

“It’s the same. The name is too complicated,” he grunts, pouting slightly as now he finishes drying his hair, starting to take off his shirt. You don’t answer at first, eyes glued to his sticky torso getting revealed, and the way he looked like he got sculpted by Apollo himself. Shit, the man was hot as hell. How could he be smart, funny, and handsome all at the same time ?! He really was out of your league, that’s what you were saying to yourself. Not like you thought you had any chance, anyways. Satoru catches you staring, obviously, malice in his eyes. It’s not like he didn’t do it on purpose, getting half nude, just for you to look at.

“You’re just dumb,” you finally end up answering, snapping back to your skincare instead of his gorgeous muscles that move while he pats the towel on his fair skin. You decide to apply lip balm to finish your routine. Satoru stares, so much, at your pretty glossed lips, rubbing them together to smudge evenly the product. He licks his own unconsciously. 

“And now, it’s lip balm. I know that, I use it too. See ? I’m not dumb,” he suddenly says, getting closer to your face. He looks like he wants your approbation, like a puppy to his owner. That made you smile a little.

“Wow, bravo, you indeed are smarter than you made me think,” you joke, because you knew how Satoru was so so so smart, no matter how goofy he acted. 

“Can I apply some ?” he asks innocently now after smirking at your teasing, and you raise an eyebrow before you give him the chapstick. He shakes his head, and he points at his lips.

“Nuh-uh”, he refuses, and you frown.

“I’m not applying it for you like a baby,” you complain, feeling like dealing with a child, or a spoiled princess. He sighs, disappointed.

“Then smooch your lips with mine,” he proposes as if it was the smartest thing ever. It wasn’t for you, but for Satoru it was, because he would have the perfect reason to kiss you. Even if for a second, hidden behind the lip balm. He just wanted a taste, a little, a very tiny one. Nothing too mean, really. You can’t help but fluster slightly at his proposition, and how bold it was, and smooth, very smooth. Satoru really knew how to make women dance in the palm of his hands, and how to charm them. 

“Gojo, seriously ?” you deadpan, a bit on your guard. Even though you wanted it, no matter how innocent it was, to kiss him to share your lip balm, you felt like you didn’t deserve a kiss from someone like him. Or that he was just playing around, making your heart throb of insecurity for a second. In your mind, he didn’t really want to kiss you. Why would he, anyways ? It was just to joke, to tease you, nothing he really wanted aside for his ego. 

“Yep, very serious. Why ? It’s just a smooch ! And since you don’t want to apply the lip balm for me…” he continues, saying ‘smooch’ instead of ‘kiss’, to make you comply more easily. He was doing his stupid puppy eyes, batting his long white lashes at you. You falter. Fuck, alright, why not doing it ? It’s maybe the only chance for you to kiss a Greek God like him, a once in a lifetime opportunity. Even if he probably was just joking, and didn’t really care about you. All that for chapstick… damn.

“Alright,” you sigh, acting like you didn’t care. Probably to protect yourself from disappointment. 

Satoru smiles as if he just won the lottery, and his warm hand wraps around your waist, bringing you closer. That makes you shiver head to toe, and his naked torso presses against yours. You try to not look at it, ogling his chest. His other hand slides on your cheek, and suddenly it looks like it’s not just a smooch, but a serious kiss happening. Your heart hammers loudly, his face getting closer, and you get lost in the pool of his eyes. 

You don’t have time to think that his soft lips press against yours oh so sweetly. Your eyelids flutter, leaning into the kiss, mouth rubbing together to smudge the balm. Fuck, it tasted sweet, thinks Satoru. His ears turn red, feeling like he ascended heaven just by kissing your lips, even if it lasted shortly. The seconds linger, maybe lingering too long for what it was supposed to be, and he finally steps back. He presses his lips together, and hums. You try to act normal, as if this simple touch wasn’t making your stomach turn around. 

“Hmm, cherry flavored,” he says, looking back at you.

“Want to taste ?... Sorry, that was a line from the Shreck movie, you know, Prince Charming,” you first suddenly reply to change the subject, before cringing at yourself and laughing nervously at the joke you made. But Satoru explodes with laughter, and your mouth twitches in a smile, realizing you didn’t make the atmosphere awkward as you originally thought.

“I love Shreck, what do you mean ?! Of course I know this line of Prince Charming !” he exclaims, a glint in his eye.

“Here I thought I would be embarrassing myself if you didn’t get the reference,” you chuckle, shaking your head, but then realize that his hand is still on your waist while he gets back closer.

“Nah. Wanna be my muffin cake ?” he teases, reciting the nickname Prince charming says to Fiona, and God, that makes you laugh too.

“Maybe. You know, you really remind me of him. Kinda acting like a diva, saying weird ass nicknames, always charming…” you start to tease, pushing his hand away when he gets even closer asking that question, and he pouts. But then his ears almost perk up, and he leans against the sink, crossing his arm over his still naked chest and tilts his head on the side.

“Sooo you think I’m charming ?” he more like states instead of asks. Him and his stupid grin. And Satoru really wanted an answer, because you felt like a mystery to him, one that he enjoyed discovering a little more every time you two met.

“Don’t fool me, you already know that you are, Gojo,” you roll your eyes saying that, facing him, and then look at yourself in the mirror. He nudges you.

“So you agree ?”

“Ugh, yes, I mean it’s not the biggest news of the year !” you explain yourself, rolling your eyes at his obnoxious insistence to hear you say it. But can you blame him ? His heart fluttered when you said yes, as if he got complimented in the best way possible. But to be honest, it was just because it was you.

“I prefer that,” he grins, looking at your face, and you ignore him as you hum the music of your playlist, being one of your favorite songs to dance on. He stares at you intrigued.

“Do you know how to dance to this song ?” he asks.

“Uh, I-” you start to answer surprised, but then he suddenly grabs your hand and makes you sway towards him, fingers sliding back on your waist. He raises an eyebrow.

“Let’s dance !” he smiles, and you can’t help but want to, after all, soon the beat was about to drop. And with the kiss, you warmed up to him, feeling bolder.  So you laugh, and he can’t help but soften, before making you move against him, and then makes you twirl.

“Alright alright-” you get cut off by your own giggle, and he drinks up your voice.

He is listening to you singing the lyrics, and you start to lead the improvised dance, not really caring if you were dancing good or bad, because Satoru just managed to make you have fun. He keeps you close, and sometimes acts on purpose dramatically, twirling you again and again, and then making you almost fall before catching you back in his arms, making you gasp and laugh harder with excitement and adrenaline. Satoru really made you dance in the palm of his hand. He had this way of making you falter and indulge his antics, wanting to follow everything he proposes and just have fun with him. You even forgot your own insecurities. 

He matches your steps, and the swing of your hips, gluing his to yours when needed, and each time he did, it made you feel incredibly hotter. A tension was building up. You never had thought one day that you would be dancing in your bathroom with Gojo Satoru, but here you were. And God, how amusing it felt, as if the two of you were kids having fun dancing together. Surprisingly, he knows some of the lyrics, and sings them with you, wiggling his eyebrows when you give him a look.

The moment the music stops, he makes you lean backwards, almost touching the ground, but keeps you firmly in his arms. You catch back your breath, incredibly close, exhales mingling together. You can’t help but laugh with him. His face was lightened up with so much joy, and yours too, not realizing how this simple moment just made him fall for you even more.

Satoru couldn’t help but want to scream on top of a rooftop, and yap to Suguru everything that happened right now. How he managed to kiss you (even if it was for a lip balm), and then dance with you and make you laugh so much. It’s as if he won a battle. Being successful in his quest of conquering your heart. 

The rest of the evening, Satoru stayed, his clothes already long dry, and the rain forgotten, but that wasn’t an excuse anymore. He only went back home when Shoko came back, leaving a warmth in your chest that wasn’t there before. 

It almost scared you how he slowly started to creep inside your heart. 

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

Friday night. You just were on your way back home after hanging out with your friends at a bar. It was around 2 am, the night long up your head. You walk faster and enter the elevator, pressing the button of your floor. As you wait, you can’t help but have your thoughts drifting back to a certain white haired man.

You felt like you kept bumping into him this past weeks, and how he slowly started to hang out more and more at Shoko’s (your) place, even without Suguru to tail behind. You fluster at what happened last time, with the kiss and the whole dance in the bathroom. It was sweet, and you couldn’t lie about how much you had fun with him that night. He even stayed longer than you both expected, making you wonder if you could consider him as your friend now, or still only as Shoko’s friend. 

You sigh, and take your keys to open the door of your shared apartment. Tired, you kick off your shoes, and then put down your jacket and bag. As you walk towards the living room, you gasp and jump slightly of surprise when you see the cause of all your heart problems laying on the couch.

“Gojo ?” you ask, and he lifts his head lazily while he is scrolling down on his phone. He smiles when his eyes meet yours.

“Y/n, you’re back ?”

“Where is Shoko ?” you question as you go wash your hands in the kitchen, and feel his gaze on you as he stretches like a cat.

“Sleeping in her room, so instead I stay on the couch,” he explains as you dry your hands, glancing at him, before entering the living room. He was wearing grey sweatpants that were quite low on his hips, dangerously low, even. Satoru had a plain white shirt, but tight enough to show his delicious muscles. Wow, ok, you should stop drooling for a second.

“You stay for the night ?” you continue asking, trying to distract yourself from your unholy thoughts. He passes his hand in his disheveled hair, looking quite tired.

“Yup.”

“Sleeping on this couch is hell, you will have a horrible night. And you are too tall for it too,” you comment, nose scrunching as you make a face of discomfort at the idea of him sleeping there. His legs were indeed dangling off the couch, way too big for laying on this.

“Well, where else am I supposed to sleep ? Shoko doesn’t let me even approach her bedroom, as if i’ll mess up everything or I don’t know what she thinks will happen,” he scoffed, pouting at Shoko’s behavior towards him, treating Satoru like a disaster. He then turned his head towards you as you sat on the remaining space next to his hips.

“You can sleep on my bed, I’ll take the couch,” you propose, wanting to be nice and mostly feeling bad for him.

“Seriously ? And you on the couch ? No way,” he huffs, and shakes his head adamant on thinking it was ridiculous. You frown, surprised.

“I’m being nice here. Take my bed,” you retort.

“Not without you in it,” he corrects, and you can’t help but roll your eyes, thinking he was flirting around again. But you were too tired for this.

“In your dreams.”

“What ? No. I didn’t mean it in that way. I’m serious here, y/n. You said the couch is uncomfortable. If I’m cozy in your bed and you are not, it just feels wrong. So either we sleep together in your room, or I sleep on the couch. Period,” he says more firmly, and it’s the first time you see him actually showing a rather serious expression. You swallow your saliva, and then think about it.

Sleeping with Gojo Satoru ? In the same bed ? What if people learnt about it and would start rumors ? No. It would be just sleeping. But you couldn’t help your beating heart of apprehension. What if he tried something ? What would you do ? Would he treat you like a one night stand, just someone to fool around with ? You didn’t want that, at all. You couldn’t even know if he would. There were so many rumors going on about him, that he was a womanizer, sleeping with no strings attached, and all this stuff. And it was true that he was charming, and from what you saw, he knew how to flirt. But you saw too how he just was a nerd and loser in disguise, and you don’t think it in the bad way, more like how cute and surprising it was. 

So would he really try something ? But wait. Why would he even try something with you ? No, there would be no single chances. The kiss from last time was just a bold move, nothing more. Gojo Satoru was way out of your league, there was no reason why he would see you differently than just Shoko’s roommate. Maybe a friend, but nothing above. 

“So ?” he asks again, snapping you back from your train of thoughts. You bat your lashes a second, and then remind yourself that he was just right next to you, waiting for an answer. He was up on his elbows now, the muscles of his arms flexing while he was doing so. He really was fit… You stare at it then back at his pretty face.

“Alright, let’s do that. Let’s hope my bed is big enough for two,” you end up answering after taking a deep breath.

“We’ll make it fit, don’t worry cutie,” he grins at your acceptance, and stands back up on his whole height, looming over you.

Some minutes later, you go out of the bathroom after having finished putting yourself in your pajamas and washing up from the hangout you had earlier. Satoru was already laying in your bed, waiting for you. He puts down his phone when he sees you, and damn, it felt so weird seeing him in your bedroom, even more laying on your bed. You follow suit and slip under the covers on the other side, brushing against him as there wasn’t enough space to have some personal intimacy. Great…

“We’re pretty squeezed,” you comment, chuckling as you try to lighten the mood by doing your best to get comfortable, ignoring how his hot body is right next to you.

“Eh, I don’t mind. You’re warm, I was cold, perfect match I would say, don’t you think ?” He smiles, laying on his side to look at you, blue orbs shining in the dim light of the moon behind you. 

“You keep saying we are the perfect match,” you comment, raising an eyebrow.

“Because we are,” he retorts, looking right back at you.

“Ah, really now ?” You grin.

“What ? It’s true ! We both don’t do relationships, we danced together, we do a great team on mario kart, we love Shreck, you bake cookies, I eat them, you tell me to shut up, I do, and you’re warm, I was feeling cold. Perfect, I’m saying. Perfect !” he insists, enumerating some stupid reasons, and you can’t help but laugh at his silliness. 

“It doesn’t take you much for you to feel like it’s a perfect match,” you tease.

“You’re just the one, sweetie. What can I say ?” he answers, giving you his flirty smirk, the one that you just knew so well. 

“Alright Mr Prince Charming, good night,” you roll your eyes at his joke, smiling slightly, and turn around, back facing him.

“Good night, y/n,” he ends up whispering after some seconds of silence. It’s back quiet, and you couldn’t help but feel his torso brushing against you. You both were so close, it was flustering you. Satoru was still awake, eyes looking at the back of your head. His heart was hammering in his chest, not believing that he was sleeping with you. It was a bold move he did earlier, and God, he didn’t expect you to accept at all. But here he was.

Satoru stays silent, listening to your soft breathing. His body is aching to get closer, and it wouldn’t take much, because of how already close you both were. His limbs, without thinking, move on their own. His strong arm wraps around your stomach, dragging you against his chiseled torso. You gasp, and turn your head to look at him surprised.

“Told you, I’m cold, you’re warm. And I didn’t know where to put my arm…” he justifies himself. You couldn’t deny that you enjoyed this position, the way his body molded against yours was oddly satisfying and comforting. And it was from long ago that you had the chance to have such closeness with someone. Anyways, you were too tired to think more into it. Satoru was just being Satoru, right now… Thats’ what you were saying to yourself. 

“If you say so,” you end up answering, voice more quiet than you intended. You turn back, closing your eyes and letting yourself relax in his arms. Satoru couldn’t help but think how right it felt, this position with you, as if your bodies were made for complimenting each other. His hand presses your stomach, and his nose bumps against your nape, soft breath caressing your skin.

All the maelstrom of constant thoughts in Satoru’s mind just shutted off, and how good it felt to be calm. His mind was always racing, all the time, never stopping. But right now he just found peace in the comfort of your body against his, in having you in his arms.

Not falling for you was impossible now. Satoru realised that he was long lost, his at first silly curiosity and crush evolved into something much bigger. Something he would have never thought of, because Gojo Satoru doesn’t do relationships, or romantic feelings. But here he was, and it was scary. But maybe it was worth it, to go against his fear, if it was with you.

He shifts, his hips pressing against your lower back, legs crouching behind yours. For once, Satoru fell asleep quickly. Normally an impossible task. He could get used to this.

In the morning, before Shoko left early for classes, she saw Satoru wasn’t in the living room. But when she went to check on you, what a surprise to see you both glued to each other. She couldn’t help but take a picture and send it to Suguru, and then on both Satoru’s and your phone. It was a surprise too, when you opened your phone later this morning.

And for Satoru, he had the best sleep of his life, bed hair and groggy voice when waking up next to you. The only embarrassment was his morning boner that was poking against your ass, and he never turned red as quickly as before. He went rushing to the shower to deal with his little problem and to obviously wash himself, leaving you half asleep in the bed, not really understanding what just happened. Let’s say that morning he was happy to wake up next to you.

When he came back freshly washed, he acted like nothing happened, and you quickly forgot about it, getting ready too for your day. 

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

Some weeks passed, and receiving texts from Gojo, or either bumping into him and ending up being dragged by him to do whatever activity or conversation, became your routine. You grew to see him as a friend, and against your will, your crush kept getting bigger and bigger each passing moment. Yet, you always kept boundaries and some wall in between the two of you, wanting to protect your heart and knowing Satoru would never be interested in you. Each time he flirted with you, you saw it only as him joking, and whenever  he was intimately close, you brushed it off as normal behavior from his clingy self. 

You were getting ready for a party, doing your makeup in front of the mirror’s sink in the bathroom next to Shoko. She literally forced you to come, wanting you to hang out with her and her group of friends. So here you were, doing the final touches on your face and hair. You rub your lips together before giving one last glance at the mirror, and at your roommate too.

“Ohhhh, looking sexy here ! They will all be head over heels, I’m telling you,” she exclaims, winking at you as she part her mouth to apply a deep red lipstick.

“Come on, they will not. But thank you, girl,” you chuckle not without rolling your eyes, looking at her up and down. She really was pretty, her outfit complimenting her curves.

“Gojo will faint when seeing you dressed like that,” she comments, giving you a knowing look that makes you scoff.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you shake your head, adjusting your clothes and then putting on your favorite perfume for the occasion.

“He’s always flirting with you, to the point it’s kinda pathetic how much he wants you,” she continues, turning around to face you.

“Shut up. He’s just being himself. He always acts flirty, you know that,” you insist, and she sighs. But you were sure of yourself. Shoko was just seeing too much into it. Satoru wasn’t the type to settle down for a relationship, he told you that the first time you both met. Plus, he had a lot of better choices around him.

“Ahhh, if you say so…” You were a lost case, that’s what she was thinking. 

Some minutes later, you both were walking outside your shared apartment. It was a bit cold outside, even more so with your outfit. But you fought against the wind, deciding your style would be over comfortability for tonight. The party was at a nightclub, one that Shoko used to go with her classmates and friends. After walking down the streets of Tokyo, you both arrive at your destination. The loud music bangs from the walls, and you see standing in front of the nightclub a group of persons that you recognize as people Shoko personally knows. Among them, there were familiar faces, as well as Satoru’s and Suguru’s. When you arrive, you can’t help but feel the burning gaze of Gojo right on you, his eyes siding you up and down. It was the first time he saw you wearing quite sexier clothes, and you suddenly felt overly aware of yourself.

Not knowing why, feeling embarrassed, you greet Suguru first. He grins at you, purple eyes staring down at you.

“You look lovely tonight, y/n,” he compliments you, and you fluster slightly at his smooth voice. 

“Thank’s, you do too. Did you guys wait long for us to arrive ?” you ask, smiling at him as he lazily leans against the wall, hands in pocket and smiling at you.

“No, Satoru was late too, so we barely arrived before you,” he explains. You nod, and Suguru shows with his chin the entrance.

“You look like you’ll be cold, maybe you should enter first,” he states more softly, stepping closer by your side, leaving the wall.

“True, but Shoko said she would smoke one before entering, so…” you answer vaguely, looking at her talking with Gojo and Utahime. You feel his gaze on you the moment you glance in their direction, and your eyes meet for a second before you quickly look back to Geto.

“Let me guess… You don’t want to enter it alone ?” the black haired male laughs.

“Not really, ahah,” you wonder how he realized. I mean, it was quite obvious at the way you shifted slightly, a glint of uncomfortability in your eyes.

“I can come with you then,” he proposes.

“Really ?” you ask surprised, eyes opening wider.

“Of course. So come on, let’s go,” he muses as he slides his hand on the small of your back. But then barely some seconds later, another arm swings around your waist and makes you hit the side of someone.

“I don’t think so… Suguru, Shoko asked you to come and give her your lighter. So don’t worry, I’ll go in first with y/n,” suddenly interferes Satoru, giving a knowing look to Suguru as if they could communicate by telepathy, making you wonder what was happening. Suguru takes off his hand and backs down.

“Hmmm, really ? Alright,” he says slily, smirking before leaving the two of you alone. You don’t know why, but you felt a tension growing inside of you. You take a deep breath, trying to calm down. Satoru makes you follow him.

“I’m hurt, you didn’t even greet me,” he pouts, giving you puppy eyes. You end up laughing, easing the atmosphere, and nudging him.

“Hello Gojo. You didn’t need to do this, you know ?”

“I had my reasons,” he answers vaguely, and then after some seconds, the man that was keeping the entry lets you both enter after eying you down. The sound of the bass of the night club vibrates in your body, the atmosphere englobing the two of you. You look around, and Satoru brings you closer, saying it was for you to not get lost in this sea of people dancing and ordering drinks. It was hot inside, and God, it almost felt sticky. You already felt drunk from all this whole mood shifting all around you.

“Wanna go grab a drink ?” you suddenly feel the lips of Satoru on your ears, so you could hear him better. But fuck, the way his hand was still around your waist and his head lowered to allow you to listen to him made him look incredibly sexy right now. You look up slowly at his eyes, your faces quite closer than the usual.

“Yeah, I hope it’s not too expensive though,” you answer loudly as well, and he raises his eyebrow, before spotting the bar thanks to his tall height and then brings you towards it.

“As if I would let you pay. Nah, I’m paying sweetheart.” You didn’t know if you heard him well, but you didn’t answer as you both arrived in front of the counter. He keeps you at arm length, and you both take your order. He doesn’t take alcohol, and you look at him surprised as you expected him to do the contrary.

“What ? I hate the taste of alcohol, that shit is sour,” he exclaims, and you laugh as you lean towards the counter while the barman prepares the drink.

“I’m not judging you, but… Just say you don’t hold your liquor,” you tease. He scoffs as if you just said the stupidest thing ever.

“Excuse me ? I’m not a lightweight !”

“That’s not what Shoko told me…” you whisper, and even if the music was loud, Satoru heard it very well. He whispers ‘traitor’. He pinches your side, and you are now facing his smug face. At the same time you both get the drinks. As you were ready to take your credit card, Satoru stops you by grabbing your wrist and shows off his… black card ?! You open wider your eyes as he pays, shocked to see him having this kind of card. And damn, it kinda makes sense as you realize all the designer clothes he owned.

“Gojo, I could have paid for myself !” you express, but he just rolls his eyes.

“Never. Just say thank you, y/n,” he answers, bringing his glass higher. You fluster, and toast your glass with his own before gulping down your own drink.

“Thank you,” you say after swallowing. Satoru stares at you while humming, the dim light of the club caressing your skin so beautifully and complimenting your eyes. He gets entranced for a second, and the way he was looking at you made you wonder why he was doing so. At the same time, a tall and attractive woman approached the two of you. You glance at her, but then she puts her hand on the arm of Satoru.

“Hey handsome, you’re sweet. With my friends we wondered if you wanted to come have fun with us, we ordered some champagne at our table,” she muses, pointing at the table meters away surrounded by a bunch of cute girls. You swallow your saliva as she does some fuck me eyes to Satoru, and it even charmed you as well. 

Wow, she really looked pretty, and hot as hell, that you knew if she asked you, you would have followed her. But then you look back at the white haired male, and you can’t help but feel your stomach twisting painfully at the idea of him going with them. But it would only be natural, right ? Who in their right mind would refuse such a proposition from a beauty like her ? So, you step back unconsciously to give him some free room to answer, bracing yourself to be left alone.

“Awwww, sorry, I don’t like alcohol,” he answers, flashing her a charming apologetic smile, before glancing at you at the corner of his eye and noticing how you stepped away and were looking around acting unbothered.

“Oh, well, we still can make it work-” she doesn’t back down, and you had to give her that. But Satoru steps towards you and then brings you towards him, putting your back against his chest and then you feel his lips suddenly on your neck which makes you shiver head to toe. He kisses it sensually, before lifting his head slightly.

“I’m busy with my girl,” he ends the discussion, and you don’t have the time to react or even answer that he drags you towards where people are dancing. You gasp, but he makes you swirl easily in the middle of the crowd, manhandling you like a doll.

“Gojo, what was that-”

“What was what ?” he feins innocence, and you give him a glare that he gladly drinks up before suddenly making you spin and fall in his arms, leaving you breathless.

“Don’t act dumb with me,” you struggle to answer at the way he makes you move on the dance floor, unable to hold back a laugh at how he twirls you around.

“I came here to have fun with you and the others, not some strangers,” he explains, shrugging, and then makes you go back straight on your feet. You can’t help but feel relieved, smiling at him.

“Then let’s have fun,” you smirk, and another song starts by the DJ. You swing your hips left and right at the tempo, feeling the music and looking at Satoru in the eyes. He bites his lower lip, bringing your ass against his crotch, and accompanying your moves.

You chuckle, singing the lyrics as you both move. It made you remember how you both danced in your bathroom weeks ago. The kiss comes back into mind, and you close your eyes a second as the chorus of the song resonates all around you. His hands hold firmly your waist, digging in your waist and the breath of his mouth caressing your neck. You didn’t know why, but you felt way more confident than usual. Maybe because being in a nightclub, meaning it was normal to dance closely to other people, including your friends, you didn’t mind getting way more bolder and intimate with Satoru. Surely he wouldn’t take it as you trying to charm him. I mean, it was the case, but that was a secret. You couldn’t let him know about your little crush, not wanting to go through an obvious rejection and humiliation from him.

“Reminds me of the dance we had in your bathroom,” he whispers in the crook of your ear, and you nod, smiling at him as you turn around and face him. You giggle, his hands still on your waist and keeping you close as you both continue to dance together. You swing your hands around his neck, and Satoru sings along with you, making you laugh at how much fun you had.

The lights flash all around you, sometimes making the white hair of Gojo glow in the darkness of the place. The beats of the songs vibrate on your skin, and you almost scream with him and the rest of the night club a famous chorus of a song. You can’t help but be unable to stop laughing and giggling, forgetting you came in the first place with Shoko and her friends, being in your own bubble with Satoru.

His hands slide dangerously down, bringing you even closer, if that was possible. You bat your lashes, and his head leans towards you as he licks his lips. His eyes never leave yours, and the way your mouth moves each time you sing the lyrics, he can’t stop looking at your lips and tongue. He grins, both singing at the same time, hips rolling against each other. One of his hands grabs your ass, and at first startled, you don’t complain one bit, tilting your head to the side and continuing to dance. You started to be hot, giving a glance to the side where you could see Shoko and Utahime dancing together meters away. You open your eyes wide when you suddenly see them kiss without a care in the world.

You nudge Gojo, making him look.

“What ? You didn’t know ? They are dating,” he laughs, saying that is if it was basic facts. Basic facts that you didn’t have. Your mouth is hanging low, and you chuckle as you look back at his mischievous eyes.

“She never told me ! What ?”

“She told me she thought you knew when Utahime came to sleep once at your shared apartment,” he said in your ear so you could hear him well. You try to recall, and remember her indeed coming, and yes they were touchy, but you didn’t stay long with them as you had to study for exams in your room. But now, it actually made sense to you. They indeed looked very close, and she often told you she was going outside with her. 

“I didn’t notice !” you exclaim, going on your tiptoes to say that in his ear as well. He shrugs, making you turn around so you could be back against chest, hands gripping your stomach.

“You’ll ask here later,” he whispers, wanting to keep your mind tracked on him instead.

You roll your eyes, and continue to dance against him. Your body grew hotter each time his hips rolled against your butt, lips brushing on your neck, hands sliding your body and lingering on your skin. To the point you wondered how far it would go, and if this dance in between two friends wasn’t that innocent anymore. 

“Let’s get some fresh air,” he says in your ear, looking at you through half lidded eyes. Satoru felt like he would snap at any moment and surely act on his needs and wants. He tried to keep a cool head, but the way your body danced so tantalizingly against him for the past 20 minutes made him grow needy and impatient for more. Fuck, a bit more and he would have a massive boner that would be impossible to hide.

You accept, and he brings you with him outside. The cool air wakes up your senses, leaving the dim lights and heavy atmosphere. He leans against the wall, passing his hand in his hair and eyes never stopping to look at you. You were just so clueless of his craving for you that it was infuriating. Why were you so adamant on not seeing all the hints he kept dropping here and there ? Did he have to be more direct ? He never met someone as blind as you before, it was incredible but annoying at the same time.

“You okay ?” you ask concerned, stepping closer.

“Hmm, just got overwhelmed for a second here,” he answers vaguely. He couldn’t say he was getting way too drunk of you. Or wait, maybe he should. 

“You should have told me, Gojo, we could have-”

“Satoru,” he interrupts you suddenly. 

“What ?” you ask confused.

“Satoru. Stop calling me Gojo, y/n. Call me by my name,” he corrects, taking your hand and making you step closer to him.

“Alright, S… hum, Satoru,” it felt weird pronouncing his name that just rolled down your tongue like honey. And damn, Satoru just got blessed by the Gods the moment he heard it finally be pronounced by your pretty voice and lips. He waited for you to call him like that by yourself, but you always kept that invisible barrier, never saying it. He got tired of it. Wanting for you to just say it finally. 

“You know, Y/n, I’m tired of waiting,” he starts to say, thumb caressing your hand up and down. You look at it, heart beating faster and wondering why he was doing that and what he was meaning exactly.

“Waiting for what, Satoru ?”

“You’re so dense sometimes, y/n. And that makes me mad,” he sighs, blue eyes boring into yours so intensely that it makes your knees falter.

“Mad ? I did nothing wrong,” you defend yourself, frowning.

“Oh yes, you did,” he whispers, bringing you even closer, his free hand sliding on your cheek and tilting your face to the side. 

“Satoru-” you start to say, surprised by his proximity.

“Y/n…” he cuts you, almost chanting your name like a goddamn prayer before smashing his lips against yours. You open your eyes wide the moment his lips move and he kisses you like a starved man. His hand cradles your face, bringing you intimately closer, his other fingers intertwined with yours. God, he dreamt about kissing you again since the moment he tasted heavens weeks ago.

Your eyes flutter shut, and you let out a moan of surprise. He swallows it, parting your lips to have access to your mouth, tongue caressing yours. Fuck him, you tasted so sweet it was addicting. His hips press against yours, rubbing slightly and making you lose your mind. You answer the kiss, fingers wrapping in his hair and tugging on it to deepen whatever was happening. 

You couldn’t believe your eyes. Heart bursting out of your chest. But Gojo Satoru was kissing you. And it wasn’t like the lip balm scene in the bathroom. This, right here, was a real kiss. One of pure pent up passion and craving, a need beyond the Gods. Satoru just wanted to devour you, and you were melting against him. The moment you parted to catch back your breath, he couldn’t stop and let you even be away for too long, that he kissed you again, again, and all over again until you lost track of time.

The kiss became messy, burning hot, wanting more. His hand that was on yours, lets it slide under your cloth. You shivered, his fingers cold on your skin. He trails on your thigh, centimeter by centimeter, before he gropes your ass. You moan, and he chuckles as he sucks on your lower lip before starting to kiss down your neck. God, were you dreaming right now ? What was happening was real ?

“You drove me crazy, y/n, so crazy. Did you realize that ?” he utters against your throat, mouth biting on your skin and you can’t help but let out a hiss of both pain and pleasure.

“Not at all-”

“Damn, you’re so clueless. But it’s cute,” he snarls before chuckling slightly, tongue darting to taste your skin, inhaling your bewitching scent at the same time. You didn’t know what to answer, still shocked by what was happening. He goes back to kissing you, seeing you won’t say anything else.

But then, some people are heard coming outside. Yet, Satoru doesn’t stop. You try to, but he was way too lost in the feeling of finally having you to himself, even if it was for a moment.

“Satoru- wait. People are coming out,” you try to say in between sloppy needy kisses.

“Let them see, then” he mutters against your lips.

You feel heat rushing in your lower abdomen, but you come back to your senses and hit the top of his head. He lifts his face, pouting as he massages it.

“Ouch, what was that for ?” he whines, trying to kiss you again. But you put your hand against his mouth to stop him.

“People are going to see us, I don’t want to make it a show,” you warn, trying to calm down your beating heart. Satoru raises his eyebrows, but then he kisses the inside of your hand, grabbing your wrist and looking at you through half lidded eyes.

“Let’s get back inside then,” he muses, giving one last tantalizing kiss on your pulsating point, and drags you behind him.

You follow him, still mind blocked by what happened just now. You pass by people, and Suguru joins Satoru. He still drags you with them, as the black haired male said that he, Shoko, Utahime and their other friends took a table to be able to drink all together. You came, sitting in between Satoru and Suguru, both giving each other a knowing look. Suguru grinned at you, in a way that made you think he knew what happened in between you and Satoru.

The following time spent, Satoru kept his arm around your waist, thumb caressing your skin while talking and joking around. You couldn’t help but be lost in thoughts, playing back in your mind the whole kiss, and whatever Satoru said to you. You started to overthink, wondering if it meant anything for him, or if it was just in the heat of the moment. You barely kept up with the conversation, and Gojo noticed it all.

He decided then, without warning, to scoop you in his arms in front of everyone and walk towards the dance floor, avoiding the people around that were moving.

“Satoru, what the hell ?” you exclaim, squirming, before he puts you back down on your feet.

“I wanted to dance with ya’. Don’t you recognize it ? It’s the song we danced to in your bathroom,” he says, and you blink, once, twice, before realizing. You were so lost in thoughts that you indeed didn’t recognize it at all. He really messed up your mind here.

“Oh- yeah, you’re right,” you say slightly nervously.

“Ah, don’t look at me like that, let’s dance !” he grins to ease the atmosphere and calm down your nerves, before twirling you around and not letting you have time to think in anything else rather than following his moves. Against your will, like last time weeks ago, you ended up bewitched, laughing back loudly with him, swinging in his arms.

The lingering touches were still here, and the rest of the night in his company made you wonder if whatever happened outside the bar was just your imagination, or not. Not long after, you barely remember what happened, only that you had fun, then got home, and fell on your bed half asleep like a dead body. Everything after this dance was blurry, aside from the pretty eyes of a certain someone. 

જ⁀➴ ⠀ׂ

The next morning, when you woke up, you had a pounding headache. Water, you needed water. You groan, opening your eyes as you stand up from your bed and go to fetch a glass of water in the kitchen. As you walk slowly, still very tired from last night and barely remembering what happened after, you bump into Utahime that greets you.

“Hey y/n ! Slept well ?” she asks, taking her bag as Shoko arrives from behind and slides her arm around her waist, kissing her cheek. Right, you remember that Gojo told you they were dating.

“I feel like I slept for days… Are you guys going outside ?” you ask in a groggy and sleepy voice, entering the kitchen now and drinking water to calm down your thirst.

“Yeah, we go on a date. I’ll sleep at her house so don’t wait for me !” exclaims Shoko as she grabs the keys from the table at the entry, putting then her shoes. You wave at them, smiling softly as they kiss before closing the door behind them. You were so caught up in your studies session before, that you only realized now how obvious it was that they were dating.

You decide to go take a shower, feeling sweaty and gross. As you let the warm water roll down your muscles, your mind drifts back to the party, and the whole… makeout session with Satoru. You had so much fun, you couldn’t deny it. But you couldn’t help but feel nervous, wondering what would happen next with Gojo. Was it just like that, with no strings attached, for him ? Did he regret kissing you ? What was he thinking now ? You were sure to not give yourself some high hopes, because why in the first place Gojo Satoru would be interested in more with you, when he made it clear that he didn’t do relationships ? And you still didn’t feel confident enough at the idea of him being genuinely interested. Yeah, it was maybe better like that. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. 

When you step out of the shower, your phone rings on the counter of the sink. You almost gasp when you realize it’s Gojo calling you. Your heart is hammering in your chest, nervous, and shaking hands grabbing the device. Maybe you should answer…

“Hello ?” you start, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Y/n, I thought you were dead,” the voice of Satoru is cheerful as always, and you feel like nothing of what happened yesterday was real.

“Almost,” you sigh, walking towards your room after having finished drying yourself.

“How are you feeling ?” he asks, some teasing in his voice.

“I just took a shower, so better. But yeah… tired,” you explain while searching for clean pajamas to wear today. You didn’t plan to go out, anyways.

“Too tired to see me ?” he muses, like a tentation. You blink, wondering if he wanted to meet you. If it was the case, you didn’t know if you had the courage to face him again.

“Well, not really ?” you chuckle slightly awkwardly.

“Perfect, I’m in front of your door. Open,” he suddenly says.

“What ?” you answer, not believing what he just said.

“I’m here, so open the door,” he repeats.

“Oh wait up- I’m putting some clothes !” you exclaim panicked, starting to rush towards your clean underwear to put it on.

“Hey, I wouldn’t mind if you greeted me naked,” Satoru jokes. You roll your eyes.

“Shut up,” you finish the call and once fully dressed, you walk towards the door.

Fuck, that wasn’t good. What will you say ? Will you be able to look at him in the eyes ? That would be too embarrassing ! You try to brace yourself, and after a deep breath, you open the door only to face a Satoru in grey sweatpants and wearing a tight black t-shirt. Holy shit. Why did he have to look hot as hell ?! Now, you tried to not look at his body instead of only his eyes.

“Hi,” you say, looking away as you turn around to let him enter.

“Why aren’t you looking at me ?” he directly asks as he closes the door behind him, having no tact. You gulp, and then look briefly at his eyes before continuing to walk.

“What are you talking about ? I looked at you,” you shrug nonchalantly.

Satoru grabs your arm and spins you around so you could face him.You felt his burning gaze on your face, and it made you twice nervous.

“Don’t ignore me,” he orders you, a slight pout in his voice

“I’m not ignoring you,” you retort, frowning.

“Then look at me,” he brings you closer, demanding. You groan, annoyed, and finally lift your eyes to meet his blue orbs. His pretty face directly reminded you of the hot kisses and very dangerously close dances you both shared. You start to fluster, feeling warm now.

“Here you go. Hey, what’s going on with you ? You didn’t answer my texts either,” he whines, meanwhile his thumb slowly caresses your arm as if it was natural to do so.

“Texts ? I didn’t- I was too tired to answer,” you explain, remembering seeing them when you woke up.

“Hmmm… right,” he whispers, narrowing his eyes as he lets your wrist go. You walk back towards your room, expecting him to follow you, without glancing back.

“Why are you here ?” you question, trying to sound as casual as possible. You sit on your bed, and Satoru just leans on your doorframe, crossing his arms against his chest and eying you up and down.

“I wanted to come see you, can’t I ?” he answers scoffing, as if what you asked was ridiculous. You felt a tension growing in between the two of you, and it made your stomach twist.

“Of course you can,” you reply more softly, slightly lifting your face to look at him.

“Y/n, did I do something wrong ?” he asks without waiting, squinting his eyes.

“What ? No-” you disagree and open wide your eyes, shaking your head at what he just said.

“Do you regret what happened yesterday ?” he cuts you in mid sentence, stepping towards you slowly.

“Uh ? I… No. I don’t. Why are you asking that ?” you chuckle nervously, looking around at your room as if it suddenly was more interesting. Why were you acting like that ?  You take a deep breath, looking back at Satoru that is facing you now.

“You seem tense. Are you lying to me ?” he questions, both of his hands caging you on the bed on each side of your waist, face right in front of yours.

“I’m not,” you try to seem confident.

“Are you sure ?” he purrs, leaning towards you, minty breath mingling with yours.

“Yeah,” you whisper.

“So if I kiss you right now, you wouldn’t mind ?” His lips are brushing against yours.

“... no,” you swallow hard, unable to move, flustered and suddenly just wanting him to kiss you senseless.

“Good,” he grins at your words before stepping back, leaving you breathless and beyond confused.

“Why didn’t you ? What ?” you frown, looking at him as his smile stretches. You suddenly felt like an idiot.

“So you want to kiss me again ? Didn’t take you for a greedy girl,” he taunts, one hand on his hip and eyeing down smugly. You bite your lower lip, pissed now and feeling ashamed.

“Satoru, don’t play with me,” you glare at him, and he chuckles. Ah, he longed for that stare again. Here it was, displayed just for him.

“Just answer me, sweetheart,” he continues, tapping his finger against his hip and you can’t help but look at his muscular arm, and then at his sweatpants hanging low, before stopping to his pretty pink lips. He angered you, making you be so confused, and pushing you in doing things or saying things you wouldn't usually.

“... Fine. So what. Yes, I want to kiss you ! What’s wrong about that ?” you snap, gesturing with your hands.

“Everything,” he drawls, boring his eyes into yours.

“What ?! Nothing is wrong ! You are the one that kissed me yesterday ! Why can’t I now ?” you retort, pissed, standing up from the bed to face him better.

“I never said that you couldn’t,” he shrugged, smiling wider when seeing you getting so worked up.

“But you make it sound like-” you trail, slightly feeling like you were trapped in this conversation, forced to admit things you never wanted to admit to him because of how embarrassing it would be.

“Y/n, the wrong thing here is that you want to kiss me, yet you don’t. What ? Are you a pussy ?” he mocks, leaning down to be at your height, making it so it could feel humiliating to you.

“I’m not a pussy,” you answer, clearly angry at him and yet knowing he did it on purpose, but God, it worked.

“Then prove it,” he whispers.

“I fucking hate you,” these are your last words before grabbing him by the collar and smashing your lips against his. He smiles through the kiss, immediately embracing you and wrapping his arms around you while tilting his face to the side to deepen the kiss. You move your lips together, all this pent up frustration getting poured in this intimate moment.

“You see when you want ?” he murmurs and he pushes you down on the mattress, climbing on top of you before kissing you back, tongues caressing each other. One of his hands supports him, and he slides his other fingers against your stomach, under your shirt. You shiver head to toes, both because of pleasure but panic too.

You wanted this, knowing it would lead to something more. But you were scared too. Scared that once you will surely sleep with him, he would leave you and it would stop here, being treated like a one night stand and nothing like you wished. Satoru directly senses the tension in your muscles and posture, slowly smoothing you as he kisses your neck.

“Relax…”

“Satoru,” you pronounce his name, your voice holding more emotions than you wanted. He looks up at you in the eyes, and tenderly, his hand caresses your cheek.

“You don’t want this, y/n ?” he asks more softly, slightly frowning.

“I do, it’s just…”

“I won’t force you into anything you don’t want,” he directly says firmly, to make sure you would understand the depths of his words. You bite the inside of your cheek.

“Satoru, I’m sorry but, I don’t want to be just a one night stand, or sleeping like that without feelings. It’s not what I want with you, so let’s stop before it’s too late,” you finally admit, looking away ashamed. You were bracing yourself for whatever answer he would give you, hoping it wouldn’t hurt too much.

“Y/n, who talked about no feelings ? I have feelings for you, and I don’t want it to be a one time thing. I thought I made it clear already, I’m not… using you or anything,” he whispers, his face betraying how hurt he is by your words, and his hand on your cheek tightens slightly.

“But- you said you don’t do relationships,” you whisper, somewhat feeling guilty.

“You said that too.”

“But I’m talking about you right now, Satoru. You said relationships weren’t for you, and with all these rumors going around… I really thought you wanted no strings attached and just did all this for fun and nothing more,” you retort, shaking your head.

“The rumors ? Look, y/n, I don’t know what rumors you heard about me, but I don’t care. I know what I said, and I was wrong. I completely, and utterly fell in love with you. Fuck, that’s scary to admit. But God, I love you, I truly do. Everything about you made me fall for you a little bit more each day. So no, me kissing you, me wanting this… is not just for ‘fun’, it’s because it’s you,” he finally admits, cheeks turning red as he looks into your eyes in hope of pouring all his feelings into your soul, to make you see how sincere and vulnerable he was right now.

“What ? You love me ? Me ??” you exclaim in disbelief.

“Yes, you. How can I say this without sounding creepy… Ugh. I’m not very good with all this, but I’m trying. Alright. Since Shoko talked about her new ‘roomate’, I was directly intrigued. She showed me pictures, and my first thought was how pretty you looked. And then she brought the cookies you made… You know I have a sweet tooth. When Shoko proposed to Suguru and me to come hang out at her house, I was excited to finally see you in real life. And since the day we officially met, I kept falling for you. I thought it was obvious, I was always flirting and hitting on you, but you kept brushing it off. I was serious all along, really. I know you see me as someone immature that never stops joking around, and yes, I am. But I swear, my feelings are no joke…” he explains, before chuckling awkwardly and passing his hand in his hair, “Wow, I talked a lot, sorry, ahah,” he finishes, looking at you embarrassed. And you are flabbergasted, mouth half open from shock. You swallow your saliva before gathering your thoughts.

“No, no, don’t apologize. It’s... I am the one being sorry. I truly thought that someone like you would never be really interested in someone like me. I know it’s just my insecurities talking. But, it’s hard to believe it sometimes, you know ?”

“Someone like you ? You mean an angel ? A Goddess ? The love of my life ? My future wife ? My muffin cake ?” he says half jokingly half seriously, trying to make you smile. And here you were, chuckling slightly at his attempt of lightening the heavy mood.

“Satoru… don’t be dumb,” you whisper, while his thumb caresses your cheek tenderly, before softly pecking your lips without warning. You fluster at his gesture. It looked so natural.

“Uh-uh. I’m for real ! Come on baby, you are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen and I’m being serious. You’re perfect the way you are, and yours truly is here to show you the truth about yourself,” he ends his sentence by kissing your lips more passionately this time. 

You couldn’t believe it. Gojo Satoru was in love with you. And you both were kissing, intimately, on your bed, after his confession that you never in a billion years expected to receive aside from in your dreams. His fingers slide back on your stomach, and his tongue plays with yours as he puts his knee in between your soft thighs right against your core.

You let out a moan of surprise, and his thumb comes to gently touch the bottom of your breast, before grabbing it in his hand and kneeling the fat with care.

“So soft, you’re so perfect,” he compliments you, and that makes you feel gradually more at ease. His lips stay on yours, playing with your nipple that hardens in between his fingers. Your breaths are becoming ragged, and he takes off your shirt inch by inch. The moment you are half naked, you feel the coldness of the room in dark contrast from the warmth of your bodies. You shiver under his burning gaze, and Satoru licks his lips.

“You’re too pretty, I can’t believe my eyes,” he utters, and his lips trail down your neck in wet kisses before sucking on your breast. You let out a noise of satisfaction at his hot tongue licking your nipples, his knee still grinding softly against your clothed cunt. His fingers slowly approach your shorts and caress your inner thighs before teasing at the edge of the tissue.

“Can I ?” he asks, and you nod, eager to feel his touch. His digits go under your shorts, and touch the wet patch of your panties. He grins, clearly smugly, biting softly on your right nipple. His middle finger then presses on your clit, making you jolt, going on a circular motion.

“You’re so wet and I didn’t even go down all the way. How cute,” he teases, and you tug on his hair to make him shut up. He lets out a laugh, and surprises you by finally slipping his hand inside your panties, sliding down your dripping folds. His thumb goes to relieve your poor clit, while another finger caresses your entrance and carefully goes in. Your toes curl and you breathe faster, moaning.

“So so cute,” he whispers to himself, shamelessly staring at your facial expressions, loving the way your mouth parts when his digit curls inside you and hits your G-spot. He sucks on your neck, marking you up and inhaling your scent before letting his fingers move faster. He notices how your thighs start to shake every time he teases your sweet spot, and once he feels it’s enough, he slides another finger, thumb still caressing your clit.

He kisses you back, drinking your whimpers and ragged exhales, already drunk of your body when he barely tasted you. Talking about tasting, he was dying to see and lick your juices. With one hand, he gets rid of your shorts and panties, while the other is still bullying your insides. He moans when he sees your glistering cunt, all wet from pleasure, and he was just imagining himself sinking in between your thighs. He goes faster, until he brings you to the edge and makes you cum all over his hand. His lips are on yours all the way, while you are shaking and trying to gain back a normal level of consciousness. Once you ride down your high, Satoru brings to his face his dripping fingers.

“Ah… that would be a waste, don’t you think ?” he coos, and you look so embarrassed, eyes wide open.

“Satoru, it’s not-”

“Shee, easy. You know I have a sweet tooth,” he stops before sucking on his own digits, eyes almost rolling down at how tasty you are.

“Fuck, so sweet,” he moans, and you look at him through half lidded eyes. He made you feel so good, and you just wanted to make him feel good as well. You take all the courage you need, before kissing him back and tasting yourself. You slide your hands down his torso, caressing his abs through his slutty shirt, excited already. Slight hesitantly, your hand goes down his v-line before caressing his hard dick through his grey sweatpants. Satoru lets out a pleasured hiss, biting your lower lip.

“Y/n, pretty, if you go down here I don’t know if I will be able to keep it slow with you,” he says in between ragged breaths while you continue to caress his throbbing dick. 

“I want to please you too,” you answer, looking at him in the eyes, sliding your hand in his boxer and taking in your hand his warm cock. Shit, you did it. You can’t believe it. But you don’t waste any time, and slowly your hand goes up and down, staring at the way he bobs his head backwards and how his adam apple moves.

“Fuuuuck,” he groans, hair falling over his lashes as his eyes are glossy from pleasure. You continue, faster. You notice all the precum on his tip, and you didn’t know from where all this confidence came, but you went down on your knees. Satoru opens his eyes wide.

“Hey, sweetheart, no need to-” he cuts himself in a short breath as your sweet mouth kisses and gives a kitten lick on his tip. He swore if he didn’t have some self restraint, he would have cum all over your face.

“Holy shit,” he hisses, and you slowly use both of your hands and your mouth as you start to suck. His fingers go on your head, helping you in the movement, and his legs get more on a manspread. The scene was to die for : you, on your knees, in between his thighs, sucking his dick while Satoru looked like he was on cloud nine, flushed cheeks, lips parted and moaning. He takes off his shirt in one go and throws it on the side, his hands caressing you.

“Doing so good for me- yeah, just like that, fuck,” he babbles, and you continue up and down, following his lead. When he feels he is about to cum, he suddenly stops you and you look up at him surprised. He lifts you up and pins you on the bed, making you gasp. 

“Sorry sweetie,” he whispers, kissing you, and then he slowly starts to open your thighs. You become self conscious, and try to close them. But the hands of Satoru are strong enough, and he gently pry them open back.

“Don’t be embarrassed, y/n, I already saw it all earlier,” he teases tenderly, before lifting your leg and kissing the inside with passion.

“I swear I’m trying to stay sane, but I’m going crazy at how hot you are, y/n. If it was only for me, I would have brought you to pound town starting the second we kissed yesterday,” he admits, biting your thigh before getting settled against your cunt. You can’t help but laugh slightly at him saying ‘pound town’, yet you can’t help but feel yourself grow hotter and hotter at his words.

“We were on public, so-”

“You think I cared about that ?” he stops you, eyes more serious than usual.

“Knowing how shameless you are, no,” you tease, and he grins back.

“Hmmm, you know me so well. I should reward you for that, what do you think ?” he taps his dick against your wet clit, and you shiver, back arching in response.

“Yeah… Do you have a condom ?” you ask, going on your elbows to look at it better.

“In the pocket of my sweatpants,” he answers nonchalantly as he takes the object out of his pocket like he said. He gives you the smile of a winner.

“Don’t tell me you brought it here knowing we would fuck ?!” you exclaim, and he makes you calm down as he rubs his dick against your cunt, you moan slightly.

“Uh… well, yeah ? Hey ! Don’t look at me like that ! And I wouldn’t call it ‘fuck’, but ‘make love’, okay ? And it was just in case, look, I did well,” he defends himself, opening it before slowly rolling down the condom around his cock. It was, to say the least, big. Would it even enter ? He would stretch you out so much ! 

“What ? Should I call you a good boy for thinking about it ?” you snarl, using your nervousness as a way to be sassy.

“I’m the one doing the praising here, baby,” he corrects, kissing your lips to ease your mind and grabbing your hips to bring you towards him. He slowly smudges your juice over his dick, before softly, and very very gently, entering you.

Your breath gets ragged, and he whispers words of praise in your ear as he pampers you of kisses. Fuck, Satoru thought that he could die in your pussy. And he hated that the condom was stopping him from feeling it well and good, wanting it to be skin to skin, but safety first. His thoughts started to drift that if he managed to make you his wife and future mother of his children, he could have all the excuses of hitting it raw. But that was a question for another time.

“So tight,” he mutters, kissing your forehead before finally hitting his hips all the way. You both take a deep breath, and you arch your back. You let out a ‘fuck’, and Satoru starts to move his hips. One of his hands comes to grab both of your wrists and pin them over your head, fingers tightening around it while slamming his dick inside your cunt. He lifts himself slightly to rub against your G spot, and you keep moaning more and more of pleasure.

Satoru kisses you passionately, his free hand cradling your head to bring you impossibly closer. The pleasure was so good it made your head spin, forgetting everything around you, time, reality, aside from Satoru. His smell, his skin against yours, his kisses, his tongue, his hands, his words of praise and love, everything, everything but only him. 

He switches on the side when he realizes he might cum again. He makes you straddle him on top, and he puts his hands on your waist to stabilize you. You sink back on his cock.

“Come on pretty girl, move for me, ‘know you can do it, yeah ?” he asks, grinning at you while licking his lips. He makes you grind softly, and then you start to move up and down, each time falling back on his hips and feeling his dick all the way your insides. Your breast bounces at each thrust, and you try to go faster while he keeps you straight.

“Doing so well, yeah, you can do it,” he praises you to continue, kissing you tits before licking them. His hands grab your ass and his fingers dig into the soft flesh, partying them while jerking slightly his hips to dig his dick deeper inside you.

“Hey, don’t get tired on me, baby,” he coos when he notices your fucked out face, slowying down without realizing. 

“Want me to do it for you ?” he asks, and you nod, moaning as you let your head fall backwards. He takes the opportunity to kiss the hollow of your throat.

“Ahh, poor y/n is too exhausted, how sweet… What would you do without me, uh ?” he chuckles, which vibrates against your skin. You glare at him, but he doesn’t let you answer as he smashes his lips against yours.

“Raise a bit your hips… yeah, just like that y/n,” he commands, and when you do so, he suddenly brings you strongly down, and you choke on a strangled moan of pleasure.

He slams his hips, hammering inside your dripping cunt. The pleasure gets suddenly more intense, and you feel like it wouldn’t take you long before cumming. Satoru feels the same, like a possession controlling him, wanting more and more.

“I love you, y/n, fuck- so… damn much… and, and I don’t say that words easily, so, ahhh… you better believe me-” he struggles to pronounce as he gets pussy drunk, cursing in between groans of utter pleasure at the feeling of your walls squeezing his cock.

“I love you too,” you whimper in a desperate way, at the brink of orgasm. When Satoru hears you saying these words, the ones he dreamt of receiving from you, he bursts inside the condom, feeling like he ascended Heavens.

You cum right after, and fall back on him. Satoru wraps his arms around your back to cradle you against his chest, kissing your sweaty forehead. He catches back his breath, face and tip of the ears red.

“You did amazing,” he whispers, kissing your cheek and then your lips.

You answer the kiss lazily, feeling so tired. He gently lifts your hips, taking off his cock and then the condom. He makes you sit back down on his thighs, and he throws the used rubber inside the bean of your room. He smiles when it lands successfully. He looks back at you, stars in his eyes.

“You can’t deny that we are the perfect match now, hmm ?” he whispers in the intimacy of the moment, smiling at you. You chuckle slightly, shaking your head before dropping it back down in the crook of his neck.

“You’re right, Satoru. I have to admit defeat,” you answer.

“Atta girl,” he muses, and then he suddenly scoops you in his arms, making you gasp. He kisses your forehead again, and gives you a cheeky grin before walking towards the bathroom.

“Now let’s get you cleaned, yeah ?” he proposes, and you caress the nape of his neck.

“I can do it myself,” you say in a soft voice.

“Never, I’ll do it. Don’t you know what aftercare is ?” he scoffs offended, pouting.

“Yes I know, thank you very much,” you roll your eyes as he opens the door of the bathroom with his feet.

“Really ? Here I thought you were a bit dumb here,” he jokes, looking away to tease you. You pinch the skin of his nape.

“You are the one that is dumb,” you tease back.

“I’m not the one that got fucked dumb,” Satoru adds, putting you down softly on the edge of the bath.

“Oh, shut up,” you get embarrassed and nudge him, which only results in making him laugh.

“But you love me for my sass,” he coos, patting your head.

“Yes, I do,” you answer in a softer tone, and smile at him. He smiles in return.

“So, can I call you muffin cake like in Shrek ?” Satoru asks batting his lashes.

“No.”

The first time you met Satoru was rather embarrassing. But who cares, anyway. Maybe you were made for him. And yes, Satoru wasn’t out of your league. Because here he was, so in love with someone like you. Yes, you, someone amazing, and he promised that he would keep repeating it. From now, to his last breath. 

THE END 

[posh--bee]

hotel room revelations || Spencer Reid

pairing → Spencer Reid x Reader

summary → While on a case, you have to not only share a hotel room but also a bed with the BAU's resident genius Spencer Reid whom you have had a crush on since he first joined the FBI. When you wake up during the night with his arms wrapped around you, previously hidden feelings come to light and you realize that your unrequited feelings for him might not be so unrequited after all.

warnings → sharing a bed, love confessions, early seasons!Spencer, insecure!Spencer, misunderstandings, friends to lovers, reader is part of the BAU, no descriptions or pronouns used for the reader, no y/n used

author’s note → I love the "there was only one bed" trope so of course I had to write it with my beloved genius. I'm so happy to finally finish another fic again so let me know what you think about it! <3 (forgot to post this fic and now my cm obsession fizzled out, oops. But I know it will come back to haunt me sooner or later)

word count → 5.2k

When you wake up in the middle of the night, you’re not too happy about it and not sure who or what to blame for it.

You grumble your dissatisfaction without opening your eyes and the warm body behind you freezes.

Now you’re a little confused and you try to fight off the urge to just drift off again so you can actually form a coherent thought because you don’t remember going to sleep with someone else by your side last night. But thinking is still a little difficult when you’re half-asleep and it takes you an embarrassingly long time to even remember if you’re in your own bedroom right now or in another state in some sort of hotel room because of work, so your memory is not the most reliable source of help at the moment.

The someone behind you still holding you in their arms seems to get a little impatient and tries to slowly move away from you again but you don’t let them, instinctively grabbing their hand that is resting softly against your stomach and interlacing your fingers with theirs to keep it there. You hear a startled little sound close to your ear and feel the someone behind you going rigid, even holding their breath in surprise. Feeling bad about spooking your bedmate so suddenly, you apologize by soothingly stroking up and down their arm that is draped over your waist before going back to holding their hand. You don’t want them to let go of you even though you’re still not quite sure who exactly they actually are—but you’re still working on that.

What you do know, however, is that they’re warm and holding you in a gentle embrace and that you feel very safe and secure in their arms. And that you don’t want it to end.

You smile to yourself in satisfaction when you feel the someone gradually relaxing against you once more and you can finally pick up that derailed train of thought of yours to figure out where you are and why you’re not alone in bed.

But that’s when the someone behind you decides to speak up and solve the mystery at last.

“I… I’m really sorry, but I have to move. My arm’s completely fallen asleep…”

Oh. That’s right.

His voice is quiet, timid even and still laced with sleep, and suddenly you’re feeling a lot more awake than just moments before, your heart immediately picking up speed as you remember how you and Spencer ended up in the same bed together.

You’re currently in a little hotel room in a city halfway across the country because of a case JJ had presented you the day before. Five bodies with a sixth person still missing and the local police had decided to ask for the BAU’s help to stop whoever is responsible for these crimes. Spencer and you started to work on the geographical profile while the rest of the team drove to the scenes of crime and talked to the victims’ families. After working until the middle of the night but without making any considerable progress anymore, Hotch decided it was time to go to the hotel, rest, and return to the case after a good night’s sleep.

The hotel was pretty booked already when you boarded the jet so when you arrived at last in the lobby, exhaustion already weighing heavy on your shoulders and your eyelids dangerously heavy, the team was told they had to share rooms and even ended up with a room with a double bed instead of two single ones.

When JJ first announced this little circumstance at first, you really couldn’t care less. Somehow, your tired brain didn’t really consider that you would be one of the people staying in the room with a double bed and much less who would be the other person with you. But when Morgan sauntered over to you, letting the key ring spin around his finger, a wicked gleam in his eyes, you knew nothing good would come of it.

With a smirk he pressed the keys into your hand and announced that you and Spencer would be the lucky pair to share the room with the double bed, giving you a wink that made you want to kill him just a little bit. Morgan knows very well about your little, not all that serious crush on your coworker and makes a point to tease you about it whenever he can, which, unfortunately for you, is very often. Your only consolation is that Spencer is too oblivious to pick up on it even though Derek makes sure everyone and their mother knows how you feel about the young doctor. He obviously claims it’s only because he’s playing cupid and can’t stand the two of you dancing around each other for eternity, but you know for a fact that he’s obviously doing it for his own entertainment as well. Besides, playing cupid only gets you so far when only one person has feelings for the other one—which you’re painfully aware is the case for you and Spencer.

With an especially dirty eyeroll you grabbed the keys and turned to look at Spencer who gave you one of his signature tight-lipped awkward smiles. He didn’t look very happy at the prospect of having to share not only a room but also a bed with you and you tried your hardest not to take it personally. You know Spencer values his personal space so having to spend this and the following nights with another person next to him is nothing to look forward to for him—even if it’s with a good friend.

You masked your disappointment and bruised feelings with a small smile of your own and led the way toward the elevators at the end of the hotel lobby, pointedly ignoring Morgan’s teasing voice telling you to have a good night. You silently swore to yourself that you would get back at him for all of this when the case was solved and over, but right now you were more worried about surviving the next few nights of having Spencer so close to you yet completely out of your reach.

Dealing with your unrequited feelings for the young doctor on a daily basis wasn’t always easy for you but you contended yourself with being his coworker and friend even though it hurt more than you cared to admit. In the beginning, you hoped that your feelings would go away if you just ignored them—after all, it was just a stupid little crush on your adorable and dorky new coworker. But as time went on, and you were still plagued by an eruption of butterflies in your stomach whenever Spencer smiled at you, or accidentally brushed your hand with his when handing you a pen or a cup of coffee, or just stood near you for an extended period of time, you had to admit to yourself that your feelings for him were far more serious than you anticipated at first. The thought of just confessing to Spencer had crossed your mind a lot at this point, to get it off your chest, but the possibility of him rejecting you and losing one of your best friends in the process scared you too much to actually go through with it.

And before you knew it Spencer went on a date with JJ and made out with a gorgeous blonde actress in her pool and flirted with pretty barkeepers, and that was proof enough for you that keeping your feelings to yourself was the right course of action which didn’t mean it saved you from heartbreak or feeling sorry for yourself.

You started to distract yourself with alcohol and attractive strangers between cases, collecting fleeting memories with partners who never really helped you forget the one person who was always on your mind and in your heart. You went on like this until you could hardly look at yourself in the mirror anymore, feeling disgusted and ashamed of yourself, knowing that it would only get worse but still not stopping, telling yourself it was the price you had to pay for not having to spend the nights all by yourself. It was until you drunkenly stumbled into the apartment of yet another stranger, hurriedly opening buttons and zippers, carelessly tossing clothes to the floor, giggling when the stranger’s lips connected to yours despite feeling sick to your stomach. You saw it only when the stranger moved to press open-mouthed kisses to your neck; a photo of the stranger’s family, beautiful children and an adoring partner smiling brightly for the camera, and you wondered if you would ignore this too now that you have seen it, like you ignored the noticeable mark on the stranger’s finger where a wedding ring was clearly missing.

You felt faint when you pushed against the stranger’s shoulders, almost falling over your own two feet leaving the apartment only to find yourself in a part of town you were completely unfamiliar with in the middle of the night. Not knowing what else to do, you called Morgan who picked you up sitting on the curb, looking and feeling pathetic with tearstains on your face. He simply raised his eyebrows at you and wordlessly helped you into his car before driving back to his place. There, he gently wrapped you up in a blanket and cuddled with you on his old sofa for the entire length of three feel-good chick flicks all while alternating between handing you spoons of ice cream and tissues to dry your tears, listening to you in the early hours of the morning spilling your guts to him.

Thankfully, he never talked to you about that night again and you were grateful for it; otherwise, you would probably die on the spot from all the shame and embarrassment it would trigger in you. You had still apologized for inconveniencing him like this, staring at his shoes while stumbling over your words, fingernails biting into the palm of your hands. But Derek acted like he didn’t know what you were talking about, flashing you one of his defeating handsome smiles and you knew that all was good between you two, he was still your friend and didn’t think any less of you, so you pulled him down to press a grateful kiss to his cheek.

It didn’t however save you from Derek wiggling his eyebrows at you whenever Spencer and you sat pressed shoulder to shoulder absorbed in case files or when the two of you would share headphones on the jet while returning home. You are used to it by now, simply sticking your tongue out at him or giving him the finger when Hotch and JJ aren’t looking, earning a good-natured laugh from Derek and a confused glance from Spencer, who, to your relief, never quite understands what the constant teasing between you and the older agent is about.

So yes, after seeking pointless comfort with strangers until the point you almost didn’t recognize yourself anymore, you now are at a point where you would say that generally, you are just fine with knowing that Spencer would never see you as anything other than a good friend and coworker.

But after an exhausting day working on a grueling case, having made close to zero progress on it, and having to share a hotel room and a bed with Spencer only to wake up to him holding you in his arms, you really wish the universe would give you a break one of these days so you could take the time to get over your feelings for your genius friend once and for all.

You sigh quietly, willing your racing heart and those malicious butterflies in your stomach to calm down before letting go of Spencer’s hand, trying your best to ignore the pang of disappointment. The feeling only worsens when Spencer moves away from you, carefully putting some distance between yourself and him, taking all his warmth with him and you can’t help but to curl into yourself at that.

You feel him settle on the other side of the bed, already missing his touch even as fleeting as it was, feeling wide awake and wondering how you will ever fall asleep again tonight after that—and the nights still to come.

“I’m so sorry for ambushing you like that,” Spencer’s quiet voice cuts through the silence of the room, his bashfulness palpable with every word. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t, Spence. Don’t worry.” Quite the opposite, but you keep that thought to yourself, opting for lightening the mood instead. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. I mean, I had to share a bed with Emily before and I woke up to her having me in a chokehold so I prefer having you as my bedmate by a mile.”

You’re blessed with a little laugh from Spencer, your body relaxing against the unfamiliar mattress but still missing his closeness from before. You feel him shift on his side of the bed and can’t help but wonder if he too was more comfortable with holding you in his arms. But you quickly dismiss this silly thought of yours, knowing that indulging in false hopes and wishful thinking doesn’t save you from the reality that Spencer just doesn’t feel the same way as you.

“But I’m serious. You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” you reiterate after a moment of silence between the two of you, slowly turning around for a more comfortable position which isn’t in the slightest related to the fact that like this you are facing Spencer now. You can’t really make out his features in the darkness of the hotel room but maybe it’s for the best. Otherwise, you probably would give into the temptation of reaching out and brushing a few unruly curls of his behind his ear, your fingers softly lingering on his face just a tad too long.

“That’s—I’m glad…” His voice is quiet, almost distant, and you wonder if he’s already drifting off to sleep again. You couldn’t blame him for that. The day the two of you had was long and wearying, coming into work just to be presented with gruesome pictures from various crime scenes, discussing the UnSub’s profile and MO while being on the jet before being introduced to police officers and grieving family members alike, getting to work without a single break on your mind. If it wasn’t for these inconvenient feelings of yours that caused your heart rate to resemble that of someone who just ran a mile, you would probably feel as exhausted as Spencer is. But in your case, sleep is currently not really something you can think about when all you want is to curl up in his arms like before, feeling warm and safe and happy until the harsh reality of the next morning catches up with you again.

“Still, I’m sorry,” Spencer then whispers into the darkness, your name leaving his lips in a soft sigh, and you frown. There’s really nothing he has to apologize for and you want to tell him as much, but he’s faster than you, his words coming out in a self-conscious rush.

“I’m sorry that you are stuck here with me. I know you’d prefer being with Morgan instead and I’m sorry that he’s being such an idiot about all of this.”

Now you really don’t know what he’s talking about. What does Derek have to do with anything? But Spencer doesn’t let you voice your thoughts, only to confuse you even more.

“I-I know you like Morgan so you were probably hoping that he would just assign this room to himself and you, and I really don’t get why he’s so set on acting like he doesn’t have feelings for you as well. I get he’s not really someone who does relationships but he’s lucky that someone special like you is in love with him so—”

“Spencer, stop—” you suddenly interrupt this agitated rambling of his, trying to wrap your head around the fact that he’s somehow convinced you have feelings for your fellow agent. “Wha-What are you talking about? I’m not in love with Derek Morgan. We’re friends, but that’s really all there is to it. What on earth makes you think that I like him like that?”

You push yourself up on your elbow in your bewilderment, the sheet that covers you and Spencer falling from your shoulders in the process. You quickly turn around, turning on the light by your bedside, not believing what nonsense you just heard. Dumbfounded, you look at the genius lying beside you, his expression confused and apologetic in return.

“I’m—sorry?” he starts while sitting up slightly so the two of you are at eye level, his voice hesitant and uncertain. “I just thought… The two of you are always together, even outside of work, on the weekends. And you have all these little private jokes with Morgan and conversations that always stop whenever someone else gets closer. And he always makes you laugh and flustered, so I just figured—you know, that you like him more than just a friend or a coworker.”

He takes a deep breath and looks away, his fingers fiddling with the hem of the stiff hotel sheet while you can only stare at him open-mouthed.

“And I figured that he’s an idiot for not realizing that he’s the luckiest man on earth to have your heart.”

The silence in the dim hotel room stretches on while Spencer pointedly avoids meeting your eyes and you continue to stare at him, your mind still trying to process that he is convinced about your feelings for Morgan when your heart only belonged to Spencer for a long time now, when you wish for nothing but to wake up in his arms like you just did every day for the rest of your life.

You reach for him and grab his face, holding him in place when he’s startled by your sudden action and the intense eye contact, his eyes widening in confusion and shock but you don’t care. You can’t. There’s a sudden need in you for him to understand how wrong he is about your alleged feelings for Morgan, to make him see the truth that was always right in front of him.

So you resolutely look into his eyes, ignoring the subtle trembling of your fingers against his soft skin and the ringing of your own heartbeat in your ears. You’ve experienced explosions going off right next to you, you’ve cornered armed serial killers and ran into possibly lethal situations without a second thought, but somehow you’ve never been as fucking sacred as you are right now. You could ruin everything you have with Spencer with what you are about to say, but you can’t keep it in any longer. You need him to know how you feel about him, how you’ve felt about him for so long now.

“Spencer Reid, you listen to me. I am not in love with Derek Morgan, I never was and I never will be. I can’t believe you’d think that when I’ve been pining for you for literal years now! It’s always been you, I need you to know that. From the moment I saw you standing next to Gideon with that stupidly adorable sweater and that awkward smile of yours, I knew I was done for. So I never want to hear you say that I have feelings for Morgan when I’m in love with you!”

Your voice is shaking throughout your little speech, but you make it to the end, intently staring into Spencer’s eyes who looks back at you with such a stupidly shocked expression that you would’ve laughed at him if not for your heart beating so wildly against your ribcage that it physically hurt.

The silence that follows your confession is oppressive and all-consuming, and you let go of Spencer’s face so he doesn’t fall victim to your nervous urge to sink your fingernails into something. Instead, they bite into the skin of your forearms as you hug your midsection, watching the young genius open and close his mouth multiple times without making a sound, his eyes blinking rapidly.

Dejectedly, you nod to yourself, already putting together a list of romantic comedies in your mind Morgan will have to endure together with you while you pathetically sob into his shoulder, tissues and ice cream keeping you company on your little coffee table in front of the TV.

You didn’t really expect it to end any differently, but it still hurt more than you anticipated. Your eyes begin to sting and you close them, stubbornly fighting the urge to cry. You have enough time for that later, preferably when you’re not sharing a room with Spencer anymore and the case is over, so you take a couple of deep breaths to calm yourself before opening your eyes again.

Spencer is still looking at you with wide eyes, a noticeable blush adorning his cheeks. Any other time you would find this discovery incredibly endearing, but right now, with your heart in pieces and dangerously close to crying, it only reminds you that you can’t take your words back, that now he knows how you feel about him and that your relationship with him will never be the same again, even if the two of you stay friends.

You manage a meek smile that Spencer doesn’t return, and you wonder if his silent reaction to what you revealed to him could be a blessing in disguise after all. You want him to say something, anything, to you but at the same time you don’t know how well you and your bruised heart would handle hearing him say that he doesn’t feel the same way about you out loud.

What you do know is that you can’t stay here any longer, you need to get out of this room, out of this situation, now.

With one last look at Spencer, you avert your eyes, your voice quiet, tinged with regret.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper before sitting on the edge of the bed, your back now to him, only tilting your head back to speak in his direction. “I’ll ask the others if I can stay in one of their rooms for the night.”

You move to stand up and that’s what snaps Spencer out of his daze at last, hurriedly reaching for you before you can get up, much less process what is happening, one of his large hands on your arm while the other is cupping your jaw tenderly, almost hesitantly. The kiss he pulls you into then is the opposite of that. It’s urgent and desperate and completely steals your breath away, your heart leaping into your throat and your stomach lurching in confused delight. Still, it takes you a moment to kiss him back, entirely too overwhelmed to react, but when you do it’s just as urgent, just as desperate. Your teeth clank together slightly but you ignore it in favor of meeting Spencer’s tongue with your own, your head beginning to spin. You’re not sure if it’s from the kiss or the lack of oxygen but you really can’t care less about that at the moment, especially not when you swallow the appreciative groan that falls from Spencer’s lips as one of your hands finds its way into his curls and pulls not all too gently on them.

The kiss only breaks when you’re certain the two of you are running out of air completely but still Spencer whines quietly at the sudden loss of contact, following your lips until the hand in his hair tugs him back. You placate him with a quick peck to his nose before concentrating on calming your heavy breathing and frantically beating heart, your forehead softly resting against his.

You don’t protest when Spencer starts to pull you closer to him, letting him wrap his arms around you and guide you to settle in his lap, your head now resting on his shoulder, humming in contentment at the kiss he presses to the top of your head. You don’t say anything for a while, having no need for words, not when you feel Spencer’s heart mirror the rhythm of yours as you place your hand on his chest.

You look up at him when he covers your hand with his own and brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand that makes your skin tingle pleasantly. His eyes swim with emotions but he doesn’t look away as you try to decipher all of them even though his blush reaches from the tip of his ears to somewhere underneath the soft shirt he wears. Your fingers itch to pull the collar of the shirt down a little, just to see how far that blush really goes when he quietly clears his throat, the bright smile on his pretty lips faltering slightly.

“I’m sorry for—for not saying anything just now. I couldn’t—I wasn’t sure you really meant what you said, I just couldn’t believe it wasn’t some sort of joke.”

You shift in his embrace, ready to repeat what you have said, to express what you feel for him until he is sick of hearing your voice, but before you can even open your mouth, he quickly steals a kiss from you, and then another one, effectively shutting you up and looking quite proud of himself too when he meets your eyes again. So you have no choice but to let him finish what he has to say like you always do, always giving him time to collect his thoughts and listening to him when he is ready to share them with you.

“But I know you would never lie to me, especially not about something like this and only then did I realize we could’ve been doing this years ago if I hadn’t been such an idiot and too blind to see what was in front of me all along because—because I’ve been in love with you for a long time now too.”

The smile that spreads on your face is so big it hurts your cheeks, radiant enough to challenge the whole sun and you have to twist your fingers into the front of Spencer’s shirt to pull him down to you so you can feel his lips on yours again. They’re soft and warm and real and when you part again the laugh that bubbles past his is like music to your ears, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

You lean further into him and his arms around you tighten in response, enjoying the comfortable silence in this unfamiliar hotel room for a little while longer before gently speaking up again.

“You’re not an idiot Spencer. How could you have known when I’ve always been too scared to say anything? But now I did and we’ve finally found each other, and from now on we can make up for lost time. What do you say, my pretty boy?”

The adoration shining clearly in his brown eyes tells you everything you need to know and you move in to kiss him once more, preferably without ever stopping again, but suddenly Spencer tenses against you, making you look up at him with a quizzical look.

You can’t stop the little groan that escapes you at his next words.

“You and Morgan—did you really never—?”

As your genius worries his bottom lip between his teeth you really wish Morgan would finally stop being a part of your conversation.

“I—I believe what you’ve said, that you don’t have feelings for him,” Spencer continues, “but I’d understand if at some point, you know—because the way you are around each other—"

“Spencer. Let’s not do this again,” you have to interrupt a second time this night, but not unkindly. “Yes, even though I have feelings for you I have slept with other people, but it never meant anything to me—in fact, it just made me feel so, so horrible. And when it comes to Morgan—he and I are friends and that is all there is to it. It’s true I spend a lot of time with him, that we have a lot of little inside jokes and private conversations just for our ears, but do you want to know what the one common factor is with all of these things? It’s you, Spence.”

You emphasize your words with a kiss to his jaw, easing the tentative look he gives you by gently running your fingers through his soft hair.

“Most of the time I spent with Derek was just me whining about how much I wish you were mine and how unfair it is how adorable you look whatever you do and how smart and kind and pretty you are, and that you probably tried to kill me when you wore your glasses to work every day for some time. It’s honestly a miracle Morgan didn’t also develop a crush on you by sheer proximity to me, like through osmosis. He had to listen to me for years pining about you so he gets back at me for it by teasing me relentlessly about you, so I’ll have you know that all of our funny little private jokes are actually at my expense. My point is, even if Morgan would’ve wanted to start something with me—which he never did by the way—, he, and those other people too, never stood a chance because I only ever had eyes for you, Spence.”

“Oh.”

Spencer shakes his head in disbelief but he’s grinning like a fool with his cheeks and ears painted cherry red. He’s quick to hide his face in your hair, too overwhelmed by the sincerity in your voice and you think that now your genius finally, finally understands. But still, you would continue to reassure him about your feelings if his insecurities should get the better of him again, understanding that he doesn’t doubt you but that the voice in his head sometimes isn’t the kindest to him and that everything about this is very new to him.  

You close your eyes, your head resting comfortably against his shoulder until you’re on the brink of falling asleep, the comfortable and content silence of the hotel room and the steady rise and fall of Spencer’s chest steadily lulling you to sleep. After the long day you’ve had and the excitement of this night, exhaustion has now caught up with you and if the big yawn that escapes Spencer is any indication, he is feeling its effect as well.

You’re vaguely aware of Spencer reaching over to turn off the bedside lamp before moving the both of you to lay down together, shifting and coordinating limbs until you’re both comfortable with him holding you in his arms, his hand resting softly on your stomach and your fingers interlacing with his.

You smile to yourself, knowing that from now on you’ll have the privilege of falling asleep like this every night—in the arms of your beloved genius.

[aerynwrites]

Give

King!John Price x Fem!Reader

A/N: It's FINALLY here holy shit y'all. sorry for the delay, it was just slow going mainly bc i got stuck on the smut lmao. SO, i just decided to post the bulk of the story now and then post a second smutty part later. I hope you all enjoy, and as usual I love to hear what you guys think!! Comments, reblogs and such are greatly appreacited. Also: this fic was inspired by the song Give by Sleep token as well as the song Kingdom of cards by Bad Omens! Word Count: 7.6k (oops) Warnings: Arranged marriage, mentions of past abuse to reader, reader's father is abusive, hurt/comfort, soft john price, mentions of consummation, fluff, just so much fluff.

The room is eerily silent, the complete opposite of what you expected on a day like this.

Your wedding day.

Your mother had stepped out once the handmaid that was provided to you had finished helping you with your dress - panicked when she couldn’t find the veil that she was passing down to you. Your father had entered as soon as your mother had left, and you dared not break the silence first. You know what will happen if you do. 

But you can’t stop the way you fidget, wiping your hands down the front of the bodice of your dress, tugging at the fingers of your silk gloves. You hate wearing gloves, they itch and they are too warm - but your father insisted, hand raised threatening above his head when you almost muttered a complaint. 

So. You’re wearing the gloves -

“Stop fidgeting,” your father bites, standing abruptly from the armchair in the corner to storm over to you. 

The flinch that jolts your body is instantaneous, shying away from the storm of a man approaching you. The only reason you don’t shield yourself is because even you know he won’t do anything. Not today at least. 

Can’t risk marking up the wares. 

But it doesn’t stop him from gripping your arm like a vice, his nails digging into your skin beneath the delicate fabric of the ornate gown. You choke down the whimper, but fail to hide the fear you know is present in your gaze as you stare up at your oppressor. 

“You will not ruin this for us,” he all but hisses. “I understand that decorum is a foreign concept to you, but if you so much as think about sabotaging this - me - I will-”

“I found it!” Your mother calls from the other side of the door, her voice shoving your father away from you like a storm would a willow branch. 

She breezes into the room with an elegance you could never hope to match, a beauty you could never achieve - at least according to your father. She smiles at you, and you don’t fail to notice the way she takes in your shrunken appearance, the tense in your shoulders, before her eyes flicker to her husband. 

She knows. She’s known the whole time - for she bears the scars too. 

Her smile becomes tight, but she doesn’t say anything, just comes to you with the veil raised in her hands. It’s floor length, the back so long it trails even past your dress train, the lace details so intricate you can’t imagine how long it took the original creator to tailor it. it has a front piece as well that drapes in front of your face, falling to just above your collar bone where it will stay until your future husband unveils you. 

The king. 

You have to fight the shudder that threatens to run through you at the thought. You’ve only met him once, and at the time neither of you knew you would end up wedding one another. The King rules over the land, but there are many territories, many clans - his the most fearsome of all. You’d heard whispers through your childhood of the ruthlessness of the capitol city in which the King resides. Its citizens were born and bred to fight - knights and soldiers trained to kill. 

Your father’s words ring in your ears as your mother fixes your veil to your head, fussing with the fabric. 

‘If you even think about sabotaging me…’

Any sane person would. They would probably try to run for the hills when they found out they were to wed the ruthless King, a king that has never lost a battle, a King whose Kings-guard have a reputation of gutting those who dare defy him.

But not you. Little did your father know that you would do everything in your power to escape him. 

For even death must be a better sentence than your life back home.

——

Every woman you’d spoken to back home always talked about their nerves on their wedding day. Some from fear, some from joy or just pure excitement. Some of them talked of the way they got sick just before walking down the aisle or the way their hands hook or their palms sweat. 

You don’t feel anything. 

It’s just pure numbness. As if you are outside of your body watching as the doors to the massive temple open wide, all in attendance standing immediately. You can see the King, your future husband standing on the dais in front of a priest, the incense from the thurible curling around them both as your father all but marches you down the aisle. 

You can’t feel your feet or your hands, you can’t even register your intakes of breath. The only thing that runs through your panicked mind is that at least your future husband is handsome.  You remember having a similar thought when you met him all those years ago at a kingdom wide celebration here in this very city. He was easy to spot, sitting above the jousting ring, crown atop his head, surrounded by his three kings guard. 

He takes up the whole room even now, commanding it with his very presence as the priest introduces him to the crowd - to you.

“King Johnathan Price, third of his name, King of…” you zone out again, instead focusing on the very man being heralded.

He lacks the armor he usually wears, exchanging it instead for rich garments of silk and other fine fabrics. A long purple cloak, the collar adorned with fur of what appears to be a wolf, hangs from his shoulders, held together with a heavy golden chain decorated with the sigil of his house. 

The crown still sits atop his head, golden and gleaming, each crevice and gemstone polished to perfection and nestled amongst chestnut colored locks. Only when you approach the dais do you notice the grey starting to pepper his temples and beard. 

This is also the moment that you seem to come back to yourself, your soul being sucked back into your body as you and your father come to a halt at the bottom of the stairs and piercing blue eyes capture your own despite the veil. 

He smiles, a soft gentle thing that makes your lips turn down in a frown, the action only further deepened when the priest says something about your father relinquishing your hand and soon two strong arms wrap around you too tightly for a loving embrace.

“Remember what I said,” he says lowly, and to onlookers it looks like a father telling his beloved daughter goodbye. But you know better. 

“Do not disappoint me.”

And then he’s placing a kiss to your glove covered knuckles before placing your hand in the much larger calloused one before you. 

The steps up the dais are a blur until you’re standing face to face with your fate. The priest rambles on as the king takes your other hand in his own, holding them between your bodies and all you can think about is how warm his hands are and how much larger he is up close. Your ears are ringing so loud you almost miss the prompt from the priest to say the scripted words, but your father’s threat echoes loudly in your mind and you speak the words automatically, your voice mixing with the rumbling baritone of the man before you as you recite them together. 

The priest then sprinkles a fragrant oil on your joined hands, waves the thurible around as the crowd chants some vague prayer to bless your union. And then the words you didn’t realize you were dreading until the moment they are spoken into the air. 

“You may kiss your bride.”

A hush falls over the crowd as the king releases your hands to reach for the edges of your veil. He lifts slowly, and you swear you stop breathing as he places it delicately over your head, finally revealing you to him. 

And he gives you that soft smile again, the one that’s so contradictory to the stories whispered in your ears. His eyes crinkle gently at the corners as his hands come up to cradle your face, again touching you like delicate porcelain as he dips down to press his lips to your own. 

His lips are soft, softer than you ever imagined, and his hands are so warm against the skin of your cheeks, and you feel something jump in your chest and-

It’s over so fast. 

The crowd erupts in cheers as he pulls away, giving you one last reassuring smile before you both turn to face the crowd and his hand drops to take your own before raising them both above your heads in rejoice as you both descend the dais. 

Rice and flowers and the like are thrown your way as you leave the temple, and once again your body works on it’s own set of instructions, following the kings lead and the attendants ushering you both through a maze of hallways until soon your seated at a large table in an even larger dining hall and the celebration has truly begun. 

Food, more than you’ve ever seen in a place at once is piled onto the tables, music floats merrily through the room, entertainers flooding the center of the floor to vie for their King’s attention. Only when the food has been served, the wine poured, and people start eating does anything manage to catch your attention. 

And once again, it’s those damned hands. 

One comes to settle atop your own that sits rigid in the table, fork held tightly between your fingers as you have yet to even touch the food set before you. 

“Are you alright?”

His voice is like a siren song, yet also reminding you of rolling thunder, a comforting lull that soothes the nerves that must have come crashing down upon you as the weight of today’s actions finally catches up with you. 

You turn to look at the king - no - your husband, and you have to fight the burn at the back of your eyes. 

Bright blue stares back at you, brows creased with worry as he gazes at you, and you’re suddenly aware of another set of eyes on you. You can feel them burning into the back of your head, and you can’t help but steal a quick glance, only to see the seething gaze of your father looking back at you as he gestures silently to your plate. 

Oh gods…you look down to your plate, then to the kings, and you’re just now realizing his Kings-guard is also sat at the table with you, two on your side and one on his left, and they’ve all finished at least Half their plates and you haven’t even touched yours-

“Forgive me, my King,” you rush out, sitting up straighter, and immediately moving to pick up a piece of fruit - you think it’s a strawberry but you can’t be sure, not past the buzzing in your head. “I did not intend to appear ungrateful. I’m merely…nervous that’s all.”

His brows furrow further, and that must have been the wrong thing to say.

“I just meant…I’m excited, the nerves stem from joy I assure you-”

Soon the King is abandoning his utensils all together, reaching over to take your hand in both of his own, as that concerned look never leaves his face. 

“It’s alright,” he says softly, that smile coming back to his face when he sees you relax slightly at his words. “And please, call me John,” he chuckles a little, “We’re married after all. No need for the formalities.”

You nod, “Of course, my King - John-”

“Aye, dinnae listen to him, lass,” an accented voice speaks from your right, and you startle slightly when the guard next to you leans in ever so slightly, blue eyes gleaming with mischief. “He’s full’o himself, call him ‘my King’ all ye want-”

A rough shove from the man on his right stops him in his tracks, and you can’t stop the way your eyes widen at the pure casualness of the interactions. 

“Cut it out MacTavish,” the man grumbles, leaning forward to address you now, “Apologies, your majesty, but this one-” he jerks a thumb towards the one you now know as MacTavish, “never knows when to shut his mouth.”

You go to speak, only to be cut off by John.

“Leave my wife be,” he says sternly before turning back to you. “Sorry about them,” he apologizes needlessly, “they’re…” he trails off and this time it’s you who gives him a smile, a real one. 

“It’s alright, I…” you pause, “thank you. For checking in with me and…thank you.”

You turn back to your meal before John can respond, missing the way his brows furrow again at your words as you finally start eating, trying and failing to ignore the way his earlier words made your heart stutter and you can’t tell if it’s good or bad.

My wife. 

——

The celebration went on for what feels like days, music and more entertainers and more gifts from more lords and ladies than you could name. They served dessert, and then the dancing began and John had even asked you out to the floor for a dance. It was one you knew the steps to, thank the gods, and by the end of it both of you were smiling so wide even you couldn’t deny the way the earlier trepidation seemed to melt off of you. 

That was until the night started to draw to a close. It was slow, but soon guests were retiring, coming up and giving their well wishes and goodbyes before leaving. With every guest that left it felt like a second closer to your perceived doom. 

You aren’t a fool - you aren’t some naive maiden - you know what happens on one's wedding night. You know what’s expected of you as a woman - as a queen now. And that thought is made all the more terrifying when your father and mother come up to bid their own farewells. 

Your mother is first, and John is chivalrous enough to give you some space, although he never quite leaves your side, just steps a few paces back as your mother envelops you into a hug. You can’t stop the tears in your eyes as her arms wrap around you, as you know this will be the last time you see her for a while, your fathers territory being many months away. 

“I love you more than the entire world, my star,” your mother whispers, pressing a kiss to your cheek as she pulls away, hands coming up to cradle your face in her gentle grasp. “You will make an excellent queen.”

You pull her into one last hug before your father is impatiently tugging at you, though not in an obviously rough manner - he must keep up appearances after all. Even the large smile he wears as he pulls you into him is fake, full of deep seated hatred and loathing for a daughter he only ever saw a nuisance, a means to an end. 

His grip is crushing, and you don’t miss the way his fingers dig into your sides again, his breath disgustingly warm against your ear as he pretends to whisper his goodbyes, but instead whispers words you would never dare repeat. 

It feels like an eternity before he lets go, and he only does so because another hand settles on your shoulder, tugging you gently. 

“I fear it’s time for us to retire for the evening,” John says, voice tight as he gazes at your father in a way that makes you suspect he isn’t as stupid as all the others your father has fooled in the past. 

Your father bows, all reverence and kind smiles and posterity. 

“Of course, my King.”

And then you’re gone, being whisked away from the only life you’ve known into an all new and terrifying unknown one. 

——

Your footsteps echo loudly in the hallways as you follow John through what feels like a maze. This castle, just like the capitol itself is massive, larger than any you’ve ever been in. If it wasn’t for John, you feel like you might get lost in the twists and turns forever. You try to remember where he’s leading you - this is your new home after all, you will need to learn your way around. But with each turn and door your pass through it just gets more confusing. Did you turn left or right before or after the door-

“Don’t worry,” John speaks up, breaking the tense silence that had befallen you both, “you will learn your way faster than you think.”

You turn to him then, surprised that he caught on to your internal intentions. But he’s perceptive, that’s at least one thing you know about your new husband. 

You try to return the small smile he gives you as you nod, looking around once more. 

“I have no doubt I will learn my way eventually,” you agree, letting out a small sigh, “It’s just so…big. I’ve never seen a palace so magnificent. I can’t even begin to imagine what all the rooms hold…”

A small chuckle meets your ears, the sound surprising you slightly as you turn to look back at your husband as he speaks. 

“Well, I would be happy to give you a proper tour tomorrow. I have a feeling you may enjoy the library the most,” he says, eyes twinkling in the dim light of the sconces lining the hallway. 

You do perk up at that. “A library?” 

John hums, nodding. “Yes I…” he clears his throat, and if you didn’t know any better you would think that he appears almost…nervous. “I noticed the multiple trunks of books among your things as the servants were bringing it in this morning. I’m almost worried that our selection of books might be too small compared to your own.”

You shake your head, another real smile tugging at your lips. “I highly doubt that,” you say softly, “And I…I will be most happy with anything you deign to show me. You are most kind.”

John only hums again, and another silence envelops you, this one much more pleasant. Only when you take a few more turns does he speak up again. 

“Here we are,” he says, gesturing to a large wooden door a few paces away at the end of the hallway. There’s another door that you passed a few steps back, both of them having a guard posted outside of them. The same guards that shared dinner with you earlier. 

As you approach the door John directs you too, the guard standing outside stands straighter, nodding gently to you and the John, “your majesties.”

John smiles at him, returning the gesture as he addresses him, “Garrick,” he reaches up placing a hand upon his armored shoulder, “Go join MacTavish will you? Make sure he doesn’t need any help patrolling.”

The guard hesitates for a moment, eyes flicking to something behind you both before John speaks again. 

“Don’t worry,” he assures him, “Ghost is back there.”

The guard, Garrick, you try to remember nods, offering a curt bow before taking his leave and walking in the direction you and John came from. The clink of his armor fades until it’s just you and the King again, and you only realize you’d lost yourself again when gentle words greet your ears, this time in the form of your name. 

You look up from where your eyes had fallen to the ground to see John standing in the doorway to the room, holding the door open and looking at you gently. A clear invitation to enter. You clear your throat, offering a small apology as you enter, eyes flitting about the space.

It’s a large bedchamber, clearly your own if your things placed neatly about have anything to say about it. The four poster bed is larger than any you’ve ever slept in, gauzy fabric draped prettily from the ceiling and down around the tall wooden posts. Furs, dozens of them adorned what was no doubt a feather mattress, made up to perfection. A fire roars in the fireplace across the room from the bed, a table and two chairs sitting off to the side of it near a stained glass window. A yewer of  wine and two glasses sits atop the table, and if your stomach were roiling you’d make a beeline for the substance. 

By all accounts the space is warm, welcoming even, leagues better than the single hard mattress in the tiny room of your old home. But all your eyes can seem to focus on is the bed, and the towering presence behind you. And as the solid wood door clicks shut behind you, it feels like the tolling of the bell, the final nail in your coffin as your spirit seems to leave your body once more. 

You can hear John talking, voice soft as he rambles about how he tried to have the servants place your things in the best places, have them organized. You think he also mentions something about how the nights here get cold so the fires were always going. He eventually walks over to the table by the fireplace, pouring two glasses of wine, all while you struggle to breath, your eyes only leaving the bed when he calls your name again, somehow even softer this time as he offers you the second glass. 

You walk over instinctively, taking the glass in your gloved hand, giving a wobbly smile as he taps his glass with your own before taking a small sip. 

You follow his actions before you take a sip of your own. But the wine is good - it’s slightly spiced and warm and if you are to face the coming moments then you need all the courage you can get - and before you know it the wine is gone and you're turning back towards the bed. You notice a small dressing table off to the side of the large armoire and walk to it on unsteady feet. 

John is speaking again, but you can’t hear him, not over the rush of blood in your ears or the breath stuttering in and out of your lungs as you reach up to pull the veil from your hair. You drape it across the table delicately, hands trailing over the fine embroidery before your hands fall to the laces of your dress. 

Let’s get this over with.

You’re just thankful the dress laces in the front, at least you could do that by yourself. But as you tug at the strings, you find you can’t - your hands shake and the damned gloves…

You yank off the delicate silk, ignoring the raised white scars that glare back up at you as you try and manage to succeed this time in tugging the laces loose. The bodice of the dress loosens around you, the weight of the gown pulling it down slightly, the only thing holding it up being the sleeves on your shoulders. You reach up, still shaking to pull those down next, when warm calloused hands stop you. 

He’s calling your name - he’s been calling your name but you couldn’t hear him over your own panic. But you hear him now, and the sound of it falling from his lips along with the grounding warmth of his hands holding your own brings you back to yourself. 

“What are you doing?” He asks, and you notice now that he’s standing before you, having turned you away from the dressing table to face him, blue eyes swimming with confusion. 

But you’re the confused one, your brows furrow as you look up at him. “What am I…?” You pause, looking down at yourself and then back to the bed behind you. “The…the consummation. I thought-”

Strong hands squeeze your own, and you look back to the man before you. He’s still dressed, you finally notice, and he’s looking at you like a delicate piece of glass, that you might break at the gentlest breeze. 

And maybe you would.

“Do you want to?” He asks, question sincere, brows raised slightly as his thumbs brush over your knuckles. 

The question startles you. Never had it even occurred to you about wanting this or not. Of course you didn’t want this. You just met this man - this man who is constantly contradicting every horrible thing you’ve heard whispered about him. This man who is a stranger but has been so kind. 

You’ve never been asked what you want. 

You shake your head, convinced this is a trick. Like one of the cruel ones your father would play on you - asking you a question that only had one right answer and then punishing you when you got it wrong. 

“I…” you trail off, fighting with yourself. You want to tell the truth, something screaming inside you that you can trust him while the other, the years of experience tells you otherwise. 

The latter wins out. 

You swallow thickly, eyes falling to the floor, unable to look him in the eyes as you lie. 

“Yes, of course. It’s my duty to-”

He squeezes your hands again, this time dropping one in favor of reaching up to cup your cheek, urging you to look at him once more. 

“Love,” he breathes, voice gentle, “You’re shaking like a leaf.” 

He takes a deep breath, as if stilling a rage inside of him as he takes in the sight of his broken bride before him. 

“I didn’t ask about your duties,” he practically bites the word. “Do you want this?”

Gods, you can’t do it. You can’t look at him and his kind eyes and remember his soft smile and feel the way he holds you so gently and lie to him. Your lower lip wobbles, and tears burn at the back of your eyes as you internally prepare for the consequences of your next words. 

“No.”

It’s whispered so softly that if he weren’t standing so close to you, there’s no way he would have heard it. But he does, and his hands are pulled from you so quickly that your eyes slip closed, prepared for a strike or a harsh word or something. 

But it never comes. 

Instead a tense silence falls over the room before his hand is taking one of yours in his own again, and your eyes open ever so slowly. 

“That’s it then,” he says, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. “I’ll send for your handmaid, she can help get you ready for the night.”

You can’t stop the shake of your head, mind refusing to accept that this is it. That he is just going to leave you be. 

“I don’t…I don’t understand.”

John smiles, and you don’t miss the flicker of sadness in his gaze. Pity, maybe?

“I won’t start our marriage off by forcing myself on you. I don’t…” he looks away then, “I’ll wait. until you’re ready.”

You speak the next words before you can think. 

“And if I’m never ready?” 

John smiles, leaning down to place a gentle kiss to the back of your hand, either ignoring or choosing not to acknowledge the multitude of scars adoring the skin beneath his lips. 

“I’ve waited this long,” he says simply, “Forever doesn’t seem like much longer.”

And then he’s gone, slipping from your bedchambers just as a handmaiden takes his place. 

——

The same handmaid as the night before is the one to wake you, Ilora if you remember correctly. She says that the King has requested you join him to break your fast, as she’s already searching through the armoire for something for you to wear. It's a somewhat silent affair as she helps you get ready, tying your corset, brushing your hair. She even offered you a pair of gloves when she sees you staring at the ones from yesterday, but you decline. 

He’s seen them anyways, and if he hadn’t it was bound to come out at some point. 

Maybe the conversation will come easier over tea and sweet rolls. 

You follow Ilora as she leads you through the still winding passages of the castle until you eventually come to a door that opens into an open courtyard. It’s still confined by the castle walls but the ceiling is open, allowing sunshine to pour down onto the cobbled pathways that wind between a multitude of flowers and bushes and even fruit trees. 

It’s like a tiny paradise hidden within the walls, sequestered away from the grim stone walls of the building itself. Birds chirp happily, flirting from one branch to the next; and you even spot a butterfly, bright blue and fluttering so prettily in the air before you. It makes you halt in your steps, watching the rhythmic beat of its wings as it floats in the gentle breeze around you. 

You reach up before you can stop yourself, fingers held poised as you reach for the small creature. It flutters about for a moment before settling onto your offered hand, and you can’t stop the smile that splits your lips as its wings beat lazily against your knuckles. 

Soon, another presence joins you, and a familiar hand reaches up to mimic your own, a calloused finger tracing the delicate wing of the insect. Your eyes leave one color of blue only to find another, surrounded by familiar crows feet at the corners of his eyes as John gazes softly at you. 

“Pretty as a painting,” he murmurs softly, his words making the butterfly take flight, continuing on its earlier journey. 

“It was beautiful,” you agree, watching the winged creature until it’s out of sight. 

John only chuckles, reaching over to place a hand lightly on your back. 

“I wasn’t talking about the butterfly, love.” 

His words and the meaning behind them make heat rush to your cheeks, and you look at him in surprise before dropping your eyes to the floor when you catch his playful grin. 

“Come on then,” he says, breaking the tension, “let’s eat,” he turns back to your secret, “Thank you, Ilora.”

Ilora offers a small bow at the dismissal and takes her leave as John leads you a few steps further into the courtyard to reveal a stone table laden with food and only two chairs. Once again you’re slightly taken aback by the abundance of food. Yes, you were a daughter of a noble house, your family was wealthy, your father a lord of some land. But you never saw this side of that life - the life of luxury. Your father made sure of that. 

John must take your hesitance for nervousness rather than curiosity, because he smiles that warm smile and places that familiar hand on your back to urge you closer. He doesn’t force though, never pushing you if your feet did not want to go. He merely encourages, like trying to placate a scared animal. 

Maybe you are one. 

“I figured you may want to break your fast away from the prying eyes in the dining hall,” he says simply, moving to pull out your chair when you finally concede to his invitation. 

You nod politely, eyes still scanning the vast array of food before you until John takes his seat in the chair across the table. “Thank you,” you say softly, eyes flitting to the attendants that seem to come from nowhere, pouring your drink, placing silverware, and even placing a napkin in your lap before retreating once more. 

A silence befalls you both then, and you can’t help but want to shrink under the awkwardness of it all. It’s as if neither of you know what to say - what do you say to your husband or wife that - until less than a day ago - was a stranger to you. 

Thank the gods John speaks first, your throat to dry with anxiety to do so.

“Do you like blueberry tarts?” He asks, hand already reaching for one of the flaky pastries in the center of the table, “they’re our baker’s specialty,” he chuckles as he leans to place one on your plate when you offer no refusal. “If you don’t, I’m sure you will after you try this.”

You snag the olive branch offered to you, smiling as you pick up your fork. 

“I do,” you say, cutting into the delicate treat, “They’re…They’re my favorite, actually. But we…”you trail off, remembering how once your father found out your affinity for the tarts, they had all but disappeared from the tables during meals. 

You clear your throat, “the ingredients were hard to find where I’m from,” you lie smoothly, avoiding  John’s gaze. “So they were a luxury.”

You look up when he doesn’t respond right away, and find the usual upturn of his lips absent in place of a scrutinizing gaze. Not a harsh one, but one that made it clear he was studying you, watching for…something. 

But it was gone as quick as it came, that pleasant warmth back in full force. 

“Well,” he says, placing a pastry on his own plate, “I’ll make sure there’s never a shortage.”

And on the meal went. 

Conversation flowed easier after that, John picking up on when you were unsure of a particular dish or food, explaining it to you and watching in utter amusement for whether you would like or dislike a particular one. He’d let out a particularly hard laugh when you’d tried a rather odd looking dish, promptly trying and failing to spit it out in as ladylike a manner as you could. 

Blood pudding he called it - making you let out a disbelieving laugh at the withheld information, playfully tossing your napkin his way. 

He’d caught it easily, offering you a much sweeter fruit to wash the acrid taste from your mouth. 

It felt like the morning lasted forever, and truthfully, you never wanted it to end. It’s…nice, talking to someone without the fear of reprimand or a strike for saying the wrong thing. And John he…he listens to you. Truly listens and seems to enjoy the things you talk about. He asks you questions about yourself; your favorite food, your favorite color, things you like to do to pass the time, places and things you wish to see.

And he listens to all of it, seemingly absorbing every word as if he’s a man in the desert dying of thirst and you’re the oasis he’s been searching for.

It goes on like this for the rest of the day, the rest of the week, and soon weeks bleed into months and it seems like your past gets further and further behind you as this future you and John start to build gets closer.

He shows you the library like he promised, and it’s where you find yourself spending most of your time when separated from John. The first few weeks you both are nearly inseparable, claiming he wants to spend time getting to know his wife. But a kingdom cannot run itself and eventually he has duties and things to tend to, which you respect. 

It doesn’t mean you don’t miss him though. 

It’s a shock when the feeling first hits you. It’s the third day in a row of only  seeing him in the morning to break your fast together. It’s late, and you are as usual, sitting in the armchair you claimed in the library. You’re reading a romance novel, one that you confessed guilty to John early on that you enjoyed reading. Most people back home (your father) hated them - claimed they were undignified, unfitting for a lady to fill her head with stories that would never come true. 

John had hundreds of novels shipped in over the next fortnight. 

The one you’re reading now is a short one, a cliche about a knight and a low born woman. But it’s sweet, and when you get to one particular part, you find yourself looking up from the page, chuckling lightly to yourself and wanting to share it with John. 

But he isn’t here. 

And as you look up and notice the darkness outside the windows, the only light being the fire a few feet in front of you, you feel a pang in your chest. A longing you’ve never felt before, never thought you’d feel in your lifetime. 

You miss him.  

And on this night, it appears as if he misses you too. Because, like a siren's call, as soon as you stand, marking your place in your book to retire to bed, the door to the library creaks open. You expect one of the guards, probably Kyle, as he too seems to be fond of the library, having found him in here on several occasions when he was off duty. 

So, when you look up from where your book sits on the side table, you are surprised to see John slipping into the room, hair tousled, and looking as if he had just come straight from the stables. Riding boots caked in mud, light armor still adorning him. When he spots you, it’s as if the world itself falls from his shoulders, he sags beneath the relief and walks to you with sure even steps until he’s less than an arms length away. 

“John, what are you doing?” You ask, looking down at his muddy boots and back up to the weary expression on his face. “What’s…is something wrong?” 

He pauses for a moment, a flicker of something flashing in his eyes before it's gone, and those piercing blues are softening and crow's feet appear at the corners as he reaches for you, taking your hands in his own gently. 

“Nothing, love,” he says, that nickname that’s become more frequent making your heart flutter. “Just missed you, is all.”

His admission makes warmth spread through you, like warm honey on freshly baked bread. And you can’t help but lean into him, relishing in the way his hands move to wrap around your waist. 

“I…I missed you too, John,” you tell him softly, as if the words will scare him away. 

But they do the exact opposite, they make the man beam brighter than before, fingers squeezing your sides gently as he steps ever closer, eyes falling from your own down to your lips. 

Your breath hitches as he inches closer, and you can feel the heat of his words as he speaks, air brushing over your lips. 

“Can I kiss you, love?”

You haven’t kissed since your wedding day. Not other than the chaste ones he’d press against your knuckles or your cheek on occasion. He’d respected the vow he spoke to you on your wedding night, never pushing you, never forcing you. He waited. Waited until you made the decision. 

The nod you give him comes quicker than you thought it would, and his lips are on your own in an instant. They’re warm and slightly chapped from the ride he no doubt went on today, but to you it’s…perfect. It’s warm and gentle and all consuming, and even though it isn’t heated or rushed or rough you suddenly understand the passion that all those romance novels wax poetry about. 

He doesn’t dominate you or control it in any way, he moves with you - coaxing you at times perhaps, smiling against your lips when you let out a small whimper. His hands never stray far either, only moving to wrap further around your or caressing up and down your spin, maybe toying with the hair at the base of your neck before finally coming to cradle the apple of your cheek in his calloused palm.

Only then does he pull away, and you flush at how breathless you are, the embarrassment only soothed when you see he is just as affected as you are. He rests his forehead to yours, eyes fluttering closed as his thumb brushes softly against your cheek. 

“Maybe I’ll have them move my desk in here,” he says after a comfortable silence. “That way even if I have things to tend to, I can still spend some time with you.”

You pull away from him only enough so he can see the smile on your face; and the next day when you come to the library, John is sitting at his desk, right next to your arm chair. 

———

Another thing that has changed for the better is your dreams. Nightmares used to be a constant for you before the wedding, waking up in cold sweats, fear making your very bones ache. But after the first few nights in the castle…they disappeared. Once you realize that the danger you used to live amongst  each and every day is no longer present, it’s as if your body finally allowed you to rest. 

Maybe that’s why this one is so much worse. 

You’d been lulled into a false sense of security, your body's survival instincts failing you, telling you that you were safe when you should know better. It’s the very thing he screams at you as he strikes you down in this hellscape. The bitter words he spits upon you as blood splatters across the stone flooring, as the toe of his boot meets your stomach again and again. 

You naive, stupid girl - you’re nothing! 

You want to scream out at him, tell him that it’s not true, that you are something and that someone loves you and cares for you. But the words are stuck in your throat like tar, and copper floods your tongue and any and all protests crumble like ash in your mouth as you see his guard raise the whip above his head. 

You wake up screaming. 

Throat raw, the taste of copper still coating your tongue and making you gag as you fight against the furs and blankest tangled around your legs. It’s pitch black, the fire having died out to nothing but embers. So when a pair of hands finds you in the dark you can’t stop the wail that slips from your lips.

He’s come back for you. He’s come to take you away-‘

“It’s me, love stop-” the voice is muddled, far away from your panicked mind. 

You fight the grip on your wrists, only stilling when one lets go to cup your cheek. Calloused hands, warm…they speak again.

“You’re safe, it’s me. Love, it’s me…”

“John?” 

His name is but a whimper on your lips, and when he assures you that it is him, you fall apart like glass when it meets stone. Shattered into a million little pieces. 

But he catches you, he catches and holds each and every piece of you as you sob in his arms, tears soaking the skin of his neck where you hide your face, fingers clutching desperately at the thin cotton of his shirt. He holds you so softly. Always soft, always gentle. His hands run up and down your back, over your shoulders, through your hair as he shushes you softly, cooing reassuring words into your ear. 

And when you finally do calm, sobs ebbing away into ugly sniffles and hiccups, he still doesn’t let go, shifting instead to lay back against the pillows with you tucked into his side as he pulls the covers around you - a safe cocoon against the world - against the things that still haunt you. He only stops speaking, stops humming some small random lullaby he had started up, when you begin to speak. 

He didn’t pressure you, didn’t ask - he’s never asked. The whole time you’ve spent together, and you know John is a perceptive man - he knows things. You assume he’s worked most of it out himself; yet, he never once asked you. Even now, when your screams no doubt jerked him from his slumber, or when you cried into him like a terrified child. He never once asked. 

So you tell him on your own. You tell him of your childhood, of the hatred your father held for you, of the cruelty he subjected you and your mother to. You told him of the scathing words and the nights sent to your room without supper and maybe even days without anything but a simple loaf of bread and some water. You tell him of the things you swore you’d never tell anyone, of the blood and torment and beatings and the whip. 

And in the darkness of your bedchamber you pull away from his embrace, slipping your shift from your shoulders as you tell him about the scars. He’s seen the ones on your hands but…as he traces the jagged angry marks on your back, your ribs, your stomach in the darkness…you can practically feel the rage radiating off of him like the sun on a hot summer’s day.  His hands shake, fingers trembling as they trace over the evidence of darkness, of pure evil. You tell him everything, until the tears finally prevent you from saying more and he’s tugging your shift back up your arms and turning you back to face him and kissing them away with a reverence you never imagined possible for you. 

“You will never come to harm here,” he swears, voice terrifyingly calm and steady. “And if you do, gods help the man to do it, for I’ll hunt him down and slay him where he stands.”

 He pulls you tighter then, lips pressing against the crown of your head as arms wrap around your waist, soft words urging you back into slumber. 

And despite everything….you sleep, and dream this time of warm hands and kind words and a future worth living for.

[ripeandsoft]

Hi Monae how are you babes? Can I request for terry and his wife having sex for the first time since their baby was born and she was trying to cover up her post baby body after having her baby.

🥺

A/n: I’m good baby! I’m so sorry this took so long, me and my brain weren’t friends lol. Please accept this as an early Christmas gift and apology! I hope you enjoy, feedback is always appreciated 💕

Content warnings: mentions of postpartum insecurity, gentle sex?, oral, a spank or two (i couldn’t help it), mirror sex, fluffy sweetness all around, also barely proofread oops

—

“Diapers, bottles, bibs, pacifiers…” You paced around the nursery as you packed your daughter Josie’s diaper bag. She was laying in her crib, fresh from the bath and drifting off to sleep under the musical chime of her mobile. Terry was quiet as he ambled up the stairs with extra clean bottles and formula. The shadow of you flitting around her room like a mad woman on the hallway wall made Terry laugh. This was Josie’s first time being away from you guys for two whole nights and your nerves were through the roof.

“Calm down baby, you know my mama will take good care of her” Terry sat the bottles and formula on the dresser next to her bag, coming up behind you to rub his hands soothingly down your arms. You leaned back into him and you closed your eyes to take a deep breath. You couldn’t help but be anxious. This was the longest you’d be away from your baby since she was born. You knew Mrs. Richmond wouldn’t let a curl on Josie’s head be touched but your nerves were still crackling with anxiety.

“I know, ‘m just nervous” Your words were hushed as you turned to loop your arms around his waist. “I’m glad we’ll have some alone time. Maybe even get some good sleep, give the baby monitor a rest for the weekend” Terry rocked the both of you back and forth in his embrace. You hummed against him, the warmth of his body against yours making your eyes close in comfort.

Soft gurgles spilled from Josie’s mouth as she shifted positions in her crib, her noises causing you and Terry to separate. “I’ll finish packing up here. You go start the car.” You ordered Terry gently with point of your finger. He nodded dutifully, giving both you and Josie a soft kiss on the cheek.

—

“I’ll miss you babygirl” You cooed at Josie, rubbing her chubby cheek with your thumb. She nuzzled against the contact while she smiled with all her gums. “Y’all better get out of here so I can spend time with my baby” Mrs. Richmond started to usher you and Terry out the door, eager to spend time with her granddaughter. “Can’t we say bye?” Terry asked.

“No you can’t. Now get before them roads get bad.” Mrs. Richmond nodded to the window, swirls of flurries falling outside.

—

It felt weird to be in your bathroom alone. When Josie is fussy but you need to shower you bring her with you, letting her rest in her bouncer while you clean up. Terry often joins you when you’re doing your hair or taking off your makeup. You were never really alone these days, not since Josie was born. Even when she’s not with you physically her presence crackles through the baby monitor seemingly attached to your hand. You’d heard of women who become so consumed with their families that they lose themselves, but that isn’t happening to you.

Right?

All you could think about was a hot shower. Your clothes were strewn across the floor, a fabric trail leading to you standing at the sink. You pulled your braids up into a ponytail before wrapping it up in a fat bun. The counter was cold as you bent down to rest your elbows on it, filling your palms with water so you could wash your face. Before you could reach for the cleanser, your husband slid his hands around your hips.

“Can I help you sir?” You asked him through the mirror, water dripping down your neck to your chest. “Mhm, you sure can” Terry’s voice rumbling low in your ears. His strong hands rubbed over all your soft parts—stomach, hips, thighs, tits, ass. You sighed at the feeling, leaning back into him. But before you can get lost in your man, the quiet part of your mind speaks up.

You’ve never been a stranger to stretch marks, cellulite, dimples, pimples, or moles. All these things came with your figure and you had come to love them. Growing your babygirl gave you immense pride in your body and you wouldn’t trade your pregnancy experience for the world. Being a mother was wonderful journey but every journey has its ups and downs, and these postpartum stages were mostly down. The things you once loved about your body have become insecurities.

“I need to take a shower” You pressed yourself into the sink to create space between you two. “Can I join you?” Terry asks. You avoid his hand reaching for you, side stepping him and going to stand by the shower. “No, thank you baby but I got this one by myself” Your lips quirk up in an awkward smile, your hands shielding your breast and stomach from his watching eyes.

Terry frowned, the crease in the middle of his brows growing deeper as he examined your behavior. You never shy away from his touch whether it’s sexual or not. You’ve been somewhat avoidant recently. Not necessarily detached or distant but just…not the same. It was strange.

“Go lay down” Terry instructs, nodding towards the bedroom. Your mouth opened to retort but the look in Terry’s eyes made the words seep into your tongue. You obeyed wordlessly, feelings his eyes follow your every movement.

—

“Don’t look away” Terry spoke against you, mouth full of your wet pussy. His head could be seen from between your cheeks, the mirror that normally leaned on your bedroom wall now closer to the bed propped on its thin stand. Your eyes watered in pleasure as his tongue swirled around your clenching hole. The silver band of your wedding ring dug into your skin as you held onto the sheets tight.

His lips were soft against you, vibrating with his own moans as he feasted on you. “Terry baby ‘m gonna mmm fuck come” You started to grind against his face, beard tickling your mound. “I know” His words were muffled as he pulled your hips back against his face. The room around you blurred into nothing as your eyes rolled back, orgasm rolling through you with fury.

The sheets were soft on your hard nipples, the added stimulation making you cry out. You pulled yourself away from him weakly only to be pulled back. “Where you going?” He questioned. The spank Terry placed on your right ass cheek had you jolting away from him, which made him wrap his hand around the back of your neck. “Tell me where you going girl” Terry’s voice echoed in your head as you tried to focus. “Nowhere, I promise” You head shook back and forth wildly, braids falling from your bun.

Terry rubbed soothing circle on your now red ass cheek, giving you a moment to calm down. You started to bounce back on Terry’s bulge, your stickiness making his hard dick shine in the light of your bedroom. “Oh you want it now?” He teased. His hand came to hold your hips steady as he started to do the work for you. His swollen tip nudged against your clit just right, bubbles of precum decorating your flesh. You reached back to grab his dick, tired of being empty.

You fell into an arch as he found his home in your pussy. Your walls pulsated around him as if to say “welcome home.”

“Tight ass fucking pussy” He grunted from behind you, his balls resting against your clit as he bottomed out. He trapped his bottom lip between his teeth as he felt his balls start to throb. He fed you slow, deep thrusts, the slap of his thighs on yours filling the room. Goosebumps rushed over your skin with movement.

He hit all your spots with expert precision, catching your hand when you reached back to press it on his stomach. “No ma’am, this what you wanted. Be still and let me work my pussy open” He spoke, head thrown back and eyes closed. Your mind went numb with pleasure. The fat of your thighs started to jiggle as you shook, mouth open in silent moans. Each thrust stole the breath from your lungs.

“Let me tell you something” Terry wrapped a hand in your now messy hair, pulling to get you to look at him through the mirror. “Don’t you ever hide this body from me. This body carried my baby and I’ll be damned if you shamed of it” He punctuated his words with sharper thrusts making you squeal. “Tell me you’re beautiful” He demanded.

“I’m, ugh, I’m beautiful” Your words were quick, drool building up in your mouth and dribbling from the side of it. “Again, make me believe it” He responded. “I’m beautiful Terry, so beautiful” You felt yourself about to come again, walls squeezing him even tighter.

“Yes you are” Terry agreed, his own orgasm building. The sensation of you creaming around him triggered Terry’s orgasm. He continued to thrust as he spilled into you, the mixture of you two dripping onto the sheets. You fell limp onto the bed, shaking and whining at the overwhelming feeling. Terry pulled out slowly to watch his cum flow from your hole.

A warm rag was the next thing you felt on your pussy, the heat making you sigh in relief. “Don’t worry baby, I got you” Terry spoke softly, planting a kiss on your cheek.

—

tags: @kenshisluvrgirl @megamindsecretlair

[hwaslayer]

wildfire (cs) | nine.

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 9.7k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing, mature language/sexually implied content, phone sex / mutual masturbation, lots of kissing and making out per usual lol, these two are off to another conference but together-together, alcohol consumption and intoxication, bar scene, dancing, fingering on the balcony, finger sucking, oral (f. receiving), a sprinkle of spitting, a sprinkle of nipple play, a lazy handjob lol, unprotected sex from behind oop, some dirty talk, some hair pulling, multiple orgasms, reverse cowgorrrrl, implied shower sex, lots of talk and speculation, hohoho the end 🤭

Your friends weren't really surprised when you said you'd be leaving for another conference. They did wonder why it was last minute, but you don't think they dwelled on it much. Not like Jiung, at least. Outside of Jiung, maybe Yunho, too. But luckily, Yunho didn't make it a big deal since you weren't scheduled to TA his class this week [hands-on lab week with his postdoc]. He reassured you by saying it was a good conference to attend, though. That he wasn't giving a talk this year, but he was still thinking about popping in for a second.

You hope not.

You'd be with San and you'd finally get to be away with him, alone. You hoped no one else would be around and try to disrupt that [selfishly]. San had just traveled overseas for another lecture post-NAS conference, leaving you behind to sulk away while you missed his company.

—FLASHBACK

San settles into his empty hotel suite after a long day of being in attendance for a board meeting and conference. He loosens his tie and unclips his cuffs, letting out a hefty sigh when he turns on the shower. He musters the last of his strength to shed off his clothes and step under the piping hot water. He's still feeling a little groggy and gross from being in a timezone that's 5 hours behind from home. Over the years, he's slowly gotten used to traveling this way; flying to the other side of the world for 1-2 days before heading back. It used to wear on his body a ton until he's gotten better about taking care of it and his health. Still, even after these years, it doesn't get any easier.

Especially now that San has you— he just always feels like he's missing something. All he wants is to be with you, occupy his time with you.

When San steps out of the shower and finishes getting ready for bed, he slips under the sheets in nothing but his boxer briefs. He rests against the headboard, flipping through channels while he waits for you to text him back. He flips through some of your photos, some of the nudes you sent that he tucked away in his hidden folder. He feels himself getting worked up, missing you even more; missing your touch, your kisses, the way you feel. You promise you'd stay up and wait for him even though San begged you to sleep, so he wouldn't be surprised if you had fallen asleep. 

You couldn't though, not without talking to him.

you: sorry sannie, was cleaning up a bit. can i call you now? 🥺

san: yeah of course baby, as long as you aren't tired.

It's not less than 20 seconds that you end up calling him after that text, settling into your sheets to try and get comfortable.

"Hey sweetheart."

"Hi." You smile to yourself hearing San's voice, though he sounds tired and worn out. "You okay? You sound really tired." He chuckles.

"Ah, do I? I kinda am though. Mentally exhausted from the meeting and conference today."

"I'm sorry, Sannie. You should rest."

"I am, love." He sinks a bit further into the sheets. "I miss you."

"I miss you, too."

"What have you been up to today?"

"I caught up on some assignments and worked on a few things with Belle. How was the board meeting and conference?"

"Cool, but exhausting."

"I bet. Have you gone around the city?"

"A bit, but I don't really plan to do most of it until the second to last day here." You hum on the other line. "Wish you were here with me, baby." His voice is low, husky. Enough for you to bite your lip and sink into your own covers to try and distract yourself from the butterflies in your tummy.

"I wish I was, too. I'm sure it's beautiful there."

"Mmyeah." He feels himself getting incredibly worked up at this point, missing you terribly and wishing he had you all to himself here. Imaging the things he could do with you, to you, is enough to turn him on.

Replaying past events and hearing those pretty little noises you make for him.

God, he wishes he could have you.

"You lying down?" He breaks the silence and asks.

"Mhm."

"Wish I could have you right now, sweetheart." You can hear it in his voice, the small pauses and breaths he takes in between. "All I want."

"I wish you could too, Sannie."

"Baby." He breathes out. "I'm so hard for you." He lets out a small groan just as you dip your fingers beneath the waistband of your shorts and panties.

"Can you come home already?" You whine.

"Soon, love." He whips his cock out and slowly strokes himself, releasing a shaky breath in the process just as he tilts his head back against the headboard— thumb spreading his pre-cum across his tip. "Fuck—Can you touch yourself for me?"

"Yes." You let out, rubbing at your clit in slow circular motions, digit dipping between your folds before gently slipping inside. A small whimper leaves your lips that shoots straight to San's cock, causing him to grip his member a little harder— stroke it a little quicker. 

"Feels good, angel? How wet are you?"

"Mhm." You moan. "So wet, babe."

"Good girl. Keep doing that for me, yeah?" You fail to respond, too focused on finger-fucking yourself as you slip in two digits and work at a hungry pace. You too, think about San and how well he takes care of you; how well he fucks you and makes you cum over, and over again. "Wish I could fuck you so good right now." He moans a little louder this time and it has you reeling— hips subtly working with your hand as you come back up to your clit and spread your slickness around. "Hear you make those pretty noises for me and me only."

"Sannie." You breathily whine, rubbing at a faster pace.

"Mhm?" His voice is deep. "You want that, baby?" He lets another moan slip from his lips as he chases after his high, hand working quick on his length. "You like it when I handle you? Do you need that right now?"

"Yes, Sannie. Need it so badly."

"Mm." His hum is close to growl. "Shit." He hisses, breathing becoming irregular just as yours is. The more you listen to San on the other line while rubbing at your core, the more you feel yourself ready to snap. "I'm close. Can you let go for me, hm? When I get back—" He pauses briefly. "I'll make sure to take care of you. Fuck you so good— show you how much I missed you." 

"Fuck— San." You cry. "Mm'coming—" You continue to moan and say his name as your orgasm washes over you, trembling at every touch as you milk it out and ride out your high. Hearing the way you unravel has San spiraling, causing him to release shortly afterwards— strings of white painting his stomach and abdomen as he moans deeply; the euphoria crashing down on him instantly. You lie there, eyes shut as the exhaustion kicks in, a small smile on your face when San huffs out a quick 'fuck.' "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, just made a mess." You giggle. 

"Too bad I'm not there."

"Don't say things like that or I'll get hard again." You snort, also getting up to clean up and snuggle back into the covers. "Can't wait to get home to you."

"I can't either, babe. Just take it easy, okay? You'll be home soon."

"Soon isn't enough."

—END

He was there for a week before he came back jet-lagged and super tired. He still managed to cater to you despite the things he needed to catch up on, but you honestly felt bad intruding in his space when you're sure he just needed time for himself. With that being said, you didn't see him as much over the following week— allowing him to get back on track before yet another trip and another conference.

You needed him to yourself, and that's all you were asking for.

And you got that; hopefully, with no issues, repercussions or interruptions to come.

"Baby." You turn from the window to face San, his hand giving your thigh a squeeze.

"Hm?" You hum, pulling yourself out of your daze while watching the ocean pass you by.

"You okay?" He smiles a bit, driving with one hand down to the grocery store.

"Mmyeah, sorry. Was just watching the water." He nods, licking his lips as he leans onto the middle console after stopping at a light.

"No worries. Can I just steal a quick kiss?" You giggle, leaning forward to kiss him on the lips. You pull away for a second, only to kiss him again. And again.

And again.

Beep!

"Fucking relax." San says, looking through the rear view mirror. He hits the gas, smirking when he hears you laughing in your seat.

"Woops."

"Gonna get me in trouble." 

"Pay attention, Professor Choi." You tease, lacing your hand with his. His hand is soft, his hand is warm. You give it a soft squeeze, thumb caressing the surface. 

"Can't help it when my lady's in the front seat." He smiles. "Anyway, got a good list of groceries in mind already?"

"Just a couple of things." He nods.

"What do you wanna do tonight? Take a walk near the beach? Party? Explore?"

"Party?" You snort. "You party?"

"I'm really not that old, for your information." You laugh.

"You know, exploring sounds kinda fun." 

"Yeah?" He kisses your knuckles just as he pulls into the parking lot of the plaza, finding a spot near the entrance of the grocery store. "Well, we can explore."

"Stumble into some bars, walk down the lively nightlife streets." He chuckles and slides his hand into yours when the both of you hop out the car and head into the store.

"That does sound fun." He squeezes your hand before grabbing a basket. "So, what did you have in mind?"

"Lots of good snacks." You giggle, leading him towards the snack aisle. "But, I was thinking we could make something for dinner together tomorrow night."

"Yeah, we should. What's on the menu?" You shrug, throwing your favorite chips into his basket, along with your favorite waffle cone snacks.

"Curry, maybe?"

"That sounds really good, baby. Let's do it." You smile up at San before tippy-toeing to give him a kiss on the lips. You continue to roam around the store, throwing in some ingredients into the basket with San, along with some soju. After the two of you have made an entire round around the store and are satisfied, San heads to the cashier to pay. You beg for him to let you cover half and he shakes his head, kissing you on the side of the head for the attempt. You catch his arm flex when he raises the basket onto the belt, causing you to shift your attention to the floor to try and distract yourself. San catches on though, and he chuckles while tapping his card to the reader. You shy behind him, hand loosely in his while he grabs the bags with his other. 

In the car, you pull up a few potential spots to visit tonight. You find that most of the fancy restaurants and fun bars are along the same street, which is pretty close to the hotel and beach. You suggest walking down and around, and San agrees— as long as you're comfortable. You look at him and nod, watching as he drives down to the hotel 15 minutes away; chewing at his gum with his hat strapped on backwards. San is in a casual white tee and black pants, while you've got on an oversized graphic tee and cargos. San booked a hotel that's on the opposite end from the venue, more than willing to do a 45 min drive around to get there just to avoid running into familiar faces and colleagues. It wasn't a huge conference, though. Not a lot of people he knew would be showing up. Still— didn't mean others weren't aware of who he was and he couldn't risk that. He just needed to be with you, in private; away from anything that could ruin it or make you uncomfortable.

When you get to the hotel, San checks in with a breeze before taking your hand and leading the way to the room. He's carrying both of your bags— a duffle slung on each of his shoulders. He taps the keycard on his phone against the reader, pulling the handle down to reveal the suite. You've seen pictures but pictures don't do justice to capture just how beautiful it is in person. It's a small suite, perfect for you two. There's a small living room, a kitchen next to it. There's beautiful barn doors separating the room. The room has a Queen's bed, beautiful white curtains that hide the balcony with the ocean view. The bathroom has a his and hers sink, a stand-in shower just like the one San has at home and a tub next to it. San sets your bags down to the side of the room while you set the ingredients and soju in the fridge, snacks laid out on the counter. San lets out a small sigh as he comes to you, tossing his hat onto the counter before wrapping his arms around you from behind and placing a kiss against your head.

"So, baby." He says lowly from behind, giving you the opportunity to relax in his hold. "Wanna get ready and head back out?"

"You sure you aren't tired?" He smiles when you turn to face him and wrap your arms around his neck.

"No. We can do whatever you want." His hands squeeze at your sides. You tippy-toe to peck him on the lips, hands gently tugging on the ends of his hair sitting on the nape of his neck. He kisses you back for awhile, deepening the kiss just enough to have you to two indulging in each other against the kitchen counter. He lets out a soft, content sigh in between, hand coming up your shirt. 

"Maybe we should—" Kiss. "Get ready." Kiss.

"We should. But, it's not fair now that you've got me all worked up." He whines a bit, causing you to giggle.

"I'm sorry, Sannie." You kiss him one last time. "We can take care of it later, hm?" You smile, pulling out of his grip to head into the bedroom. He watches you walk off, hips swaying as you make your way to your bag before strutting into the bathroom. He does a little head tilt, still in disbelief at how he's got you right here— with him.

He feels lucky. Genuinely happy.

At some point, you and San are both getting ready in the bathroom— you've dressed yourself in a mini cami dress while San has his all white attire on. You're brushing the mascara wand through your lashes, dabbing some blush to your cheeks, swiping the lip gloss across your lips. San is ruffling his hair next to you, trying to style it to his wants until he's satisfied. You look over and peep the silver dog tag necklace hanging from his neck, tan chest exposed through the deep-cut shirt he's wearing.

"What?" He smiles, slightly confused at the way you're staring at him.

"Just looking at your necklace."

"You sure that's it?"

"I mean I could say other things, but I won't start right now." He laughs.

"Chris gave it to me for my birthday."

"It's nice. Looks good on you."

"You think so?" You nod, setting your makeup bag aside. "Doesn't look nearly as good as this dress does on you." He comes behind you, hand gripping your ass.

"Choi San."

"What?" He chuckles. "I mean it." He presses a kiss to your temple. "Ready to go, pretty?" You nod, turning to face him.

"I am."

"Can I have a kiss before we go?"

"My lip gloss." He shrugs.

"I don't care." He gently grips your jaw and tugs you closer. "C'mere." You kiss him, smiling as you pull away and tug on his shirt.

"Let's go." You gently wipe off the excess gloss from the edge of his lips, being the first to pull away and grab your things.

"Yesma'am." San bites onto his lip, following after you. 

And it ultimately leads to one of the best nights you've ever experienced.

San pulls up to a Peruvian restaurant, taking your hand and carefully navigating through the groups of people waiting for a table. He puts his name on the waitlist, telling you it'll be about a 25 minute wait. You respond with a 'no biggie,' leading him up the street to look at the gift shops while waiting. You and San poke around at the shirts, sweaters, magnets and other souvenirs, playfully trying on fun, festive hats and headbands before purchasing a few items for your mom and friends. You move onto the next store, in hopes of killing the last 10 minutes of the wait in there. It's a cute and quaint jewelry shop, one owned by a sweet middle-aged lady who sits on a high stool behind the counter. She greets you and San, her eyes twinkling when she sees you both stroll in happily into her store. You slowly browse along the glass containers, your eyes instantly fall onto a dainty, silver layered butterfly necklace sitting in the far corner. 

"I was hoping you'd look at that one." She says. "I think it'd be perfect on you."

"Wouldn't it be?" San comes from behind. "Is it okay if we take a closer look at it?" She nods, pulling it out of the glass case and onto the surface.

"It's so pretty."

"There's only one other shop that sells this necklace. It's simple, but I think it brings out some joy in people. Butterflies are meaningful." She adds.

"They are. My grandma loved butterflies. We'd always take her to the butterfly garden near her home for her birthday."

"It really would be perfect on you." San whispers as he dips closer to the side of your face. He sees the way your eyes light up, causing his heart to soar. He immediately turns to the lady and flashes his dimpled smile, his arm around your waist. "Do you think I can take it off of your hands?" 

"Certainly—"

"San." You pout. "You don't have to—"

"I do." Is all he says, sliding his card over to the sweet lady just as she gently takes it off of its display and lays it down. It's not expensive, but not inexpensive; yet, San doesn't care much for it because all that mattered to him was the way your eyes glowed and the way your smile filled the room.

"I'm assuming you'd like to wear it out?" San nods.

"Yeah, she will." She hands him his receipt to sign off on before handing him his card.

"Enjoy." You smile at her as San slips his card back into his wallet and carefully pries the necklace out of the container. When you get to the front of the store, San stops you to help you get the necklace on.

"Baby, let me put this on."

"Thank you, Sannie." Your eyes sparkle at the necklace in his hand, his smile growing by the minute as he comes behind you to slip it on.

"It's perfect." He gently caresses your chin before he's distracted by his phone buzzing. "Also, perfect timing?" He flashes his phone towards you. "Our table's ready." You simply smile up at him, letting him lead you back down to the restaurant. Once he's checked back in, the host brings you to a table in the dim, far corner of the restaurant— away from the entrance, away from the high traffic. It's a small booth, cozy and intimate enough for you and San.

You begin skimming through the menu, chiming in about certain plates you wanna try. You and San decide on a few main courses to share, along with dessert. He's quick to call the waitress over to place the order, also putting in an order of cocktails for you two to indulge in while waiting. San talks to you about future plans and how things have been going on his end [grants, his progress with Jongho on that new building]. He's trying his best to not talk about school and work but there are things he just feels the need to tell you, knowing you'd support him and cheer him on when he needs it the most. But, at some point, the conversation gets interrupted when a call from Jiung comes flashing through your screen.

"Do you wanna get that, sweetheart?" You shake your head and let the call go to voicemail.

"It's okay. I'll tell him I'll call him back later or something."

"You sure?"

"Positive, San." You give him a reassuring smile. "I can always catch up with him." He nods. "You were saying? About Jongho and Namjoon?"

"Right, yeah." He chuckles a bit. "Namjoon's been talking to the dean and he seems to be onboard with giving us some real estate in the new building to start a program. I think they're still discussing, but it sounds like as long as we do yearly symposiums and update him on the progress of how things are going, it should be good."

"That sounds amazing! I mean, I always knew you and Jongho would be able to push it forward." He does a slight head tilt.

"Well, baby. I don't know if it's us or Namjoon." You laugh.

"Namjoon wouldn't be able to make a valid case if you two weren't doing great work."

"True. I think it'll be able to help bridge a lot of future collaborations, especially in different departments. Like Zara's, Applied Physics." You quietly sip on your cocktail and nod, taking a big gulp to [hopefully] swallow down the question you want to ask, the question you're so curious about. San catches on quick, though. He sips on his cocktail and furrows his brows slightly, trying his best to read you from his seat. "What're you thinking about?"

"Huh? Nothing."

"Angel." He laughs a bit. "I told you you could ask me anything, remember?" You sigh and give him a look before caving.

"So, have your friends been trying to hook you up with her?"

"Zara?" You nod. "Yeah. I'm not gonna lie."

"Hm." You hum.

"But, we're just colleagues, love. Nothing else."

"They think you two make a good pair."

"I don't. We're good as colleagues, and quite frankly, I never really saw her in any other way since the beginning." Silence. "What's on your mind, hm?"

"I just tend to overthink, that's all. She's a professor, too. She's the same age as you, on the same kind of path. Has life figured out and is pretty set. Pretty. What if you realize we aren't a good pair and you two actually are?" He shakes his head.

"Babe— baby. I'm gonna have to stop you right there, okay? That's not gonna happen or else I wouldn't have pursued this if I knew I wasn't set on this. If I had any doubts about us or what was going on between us, I wouldn't have continued. I'm not like that. I would never do that to you." He looks at you and you can't help but give him a tiny, toothless smile; feeling reassured from the way he looks at you alone.

Like you've hung up the stars in the sky.

"I trust you." Is all you manage to say.

"Good." He grabs your hand and places a kiss on your knuckles. "I don't want you to worry. Let's enjoy ourselves tonight." You nod. 

As dinner progresses, you and San talk endlessly about life, family and stories from the past. You talk about what your friends have been up to, what your mom has been texting you about, new shows and books you've been trying to get into and San always listens so intently. Dinner lasts for about 2.5 hours before you're two cocktails deep and heading out of the restaurant to the bar just further down the street. This time, you lead for the rest of the night. You take San's hand and follow the loud music, the crowd. You fall into the bar, already bouncing to the beat with San close behind you. You order a few shots from the bartender, San giving you a look as he whispers in your ear about how good you look glowing under the dim light, how good you look happy. San takes the shots with you, ending up on the dance floor with you. Everyone else around you seems too intoxicated to care about their surroundings; too intoxicated, too happy enjoying the moment. And surprisingly, San is, too. He holds you close as the song blasts through the bar, gripping your hips as you work your ass against him. He keeps up with your rhythm well as he dances along, playfully turning you to face him so he could praise you in your ear while he squeezes at your ass.

You're not sure this man lacks in anything, and it's crazy to call him yours.

But, he is. 

He is, he is.

You and San spend a good hour at the bar before you walk over to the beach and stumble your way back into the hotel from the back entrance. The both of you are still in good spirits despite the exhaustion slowly creeping up, laughing and joking with each other until you've finally made it back inside the room. 

"That was fun." He smiles, pulling you flush against him before cupping your cheeks and kissing you on the lips. "Thank you, baby." He thanks you because he's not sure he's felt this alive in a long, long time. Even though he had his good moments with Iseul, he can say their relationship was never that spontaneous. They kept within routine a lot, did the usual things with their friends a lot. Iseul wouldn't dare take him down the street into a random bar to take shots and dance the night away while out of town.

Everything about you was so good, so different, so good to be true. But, you were all his and he was all yours.

He wishes he could stay here with you, in this moment. With no worries about school, work, the outside world. People.

"No, thank you." You smile sweetly at him, but he can't admire it for long when his phone buzzes in his pocket despite it being on do not disturb.

jongho: can i call you real quick? sorry, kinda urgent but i won't take up much of your time.

san: yeah, sure.

"I'm sorry baby, I have to take this." He flashes the screen, showing Jongho's name come up. "Real quick."

"No worries." You chuckle. "I'll clean up around here." He nods, walking off.

"Yo." San picks up the call while he decides to stand outside on the balcony.

"Aye. Where have you been? I sent you some emails but it's been crickets." Jongho asks.

"My bad. I told you I was going to the Baskin Conference."

"Oh, you actually went? I thought you were still thinking about it."

"No. What's up?"

"Are you alone?"

"Why?"

"Okay." Jongho chuckles. "Anyway, I was just wondering where you were at since I haven't seen you and heard from you. I received a 'just in time' email for the new proposal we worked on. Might be good to start getting our approvals together for it so we can get the grant awarded ASAP." San nods, relaxing when he feels you wrap your arms around him from behind. He turns to face you, one arm coming around you while you look up at him; other hand still occupied with holding the phone to his ear. San watches you carefully as you lay random, soft kisses against his jaw and silently giggle— teasing him in the same manner that drives him crazy.

"That's great news, actually! Kinda been bombing out some of the grants I have right now and have yet to renew some of them." Jongho laughs loudly.

"Yeah, same."

"I'll prioritize it and get it done when I get back."

"Sounds good. I've already looped in the others in that email to get it started."

"Thanks."

"Enjoy yourself down there." Pause. "And San?"

"Yeah?"

"Please be careful with her." 

"I'll talk to you when I get back." San hangs up the call and slips his phone into his pocket, smirking when he finally gets to hold you close. "And what do you think you're doing, hm?"

"Just wanted your attention." You pout. 

"You always have my attention, angel. There's no doubt about that." You bite your lip and tippy-toe to kiss him, pressing yourself flush against his body while you deepen the kiss. You feel him hardening against you, causing you to moan into his mouth. He briefly pulls back, smiling down at you as his hand travels down and beneath your dress— fingers teasing at the edge of your panties. "Think you can keep quiet for me?" Your breathing hitches when his fingers dip beneath the material and start slowly rubbing at your clit. He keeps his eyes on you the entire time, watching the way you let out silent moans even as he finally slips two fingers inside of you.

"Babe—"

"Shh." He shushes you with a smile. "Don't worry about anyone." He says, expertly hiding your figure in front of his, keeping you at an angle behind the decorative pots and plants sitting on the balcony for aesthetics. "Just let me take care of you." He grazes his lips against yours, indulging in the way you quietly whine against him, indulging in the way your slickness covers his digits.

You're dripping.

He picks up the pace as he tries to quietly [and subtly] finger fuck you on the balcony, enjoying the way your head tilts back in pleasure, giving him access to the surface of your neck for small little kisses, love bites that aren't so obvious to the naked eye.

"So close— so good." You moan softly against his lips, trying to keep yourself as quiet as possible on this balcony, threatening to tip over the edge any second now. "I'm gonna—"

"Mm, I don't think so, love." He teases when he feels you clench around his fingers.

"Wanna cum, San. Please." You beg and San smirks. He removes his digits from inside of you, letting out an evil [and fucked up] chuckle. "Sannie." You whine, feeling needy and so incredibly weak at how he stripped you of your orgasm. You needed him, badly. You craved him, badly. "I need to—"

"And you will. Just not now." He teases. "Open for me." He says, slipping his two digits into your mouth to watch you suck on your own juices— tongue swirling around his pretty fingers. "Taste good, baby?" You nod so innocently. "That's my good girl. I'll make the wait worthwhile, hm?" He grips your jaw as he talks lowly near your ear. He begins to trail kisses from your jawline down to your neck, tongue swiping across the surface before nibbling and sucking ever so gently. As much as he'd love to paint your skin with all those marks, he knows he shouldn't.

"San, please." You beg again, hands tangled in the ends of his hair as he continues to kiss your neck in all the right spots. San is pressed up against you, and you can feel his hard, aching cock against your thigh. Your hand comes down to give it a feel, a quick squeeze, before he's letting out a low, breathy moan against your skin.

"Bed. Now." He demands, letting you lead the way to the bedroom;

A trail of clothes following suit.

Shirt gone. Pants gone. Dress gone.

Boxers off to the side. Panties somewhere in the room.

Balcony door still wide the fuck open.

He gets you situated on the edge of the bed, keeping your legs cocked open for him as he dives right in to get a taste of you. He swipes his tongue up, teasing your clit before sucking gently. He continues to lap away at your heat— expertly tonguing your folds in between and teasing your entrance. At some point, he slips in a digit; finger fucking you while he watches you writhe from his angle. You let out his name a few times, your moaning and begging sounding like pure music to his ears.

"Wanna cum for me?" You nod, eager to unravel and snap in his hold. "You've been good, baby. Go ahead and cum for me."

"Fuck— please." He spits on your pussy and continues to suck away at your clit; allowing you to grip his head with slight force as you keep him in his position and grind against his mouth, his tongue. "Oh shit—" You mewl, yelling his name shortly after as you come undone— body twitching as your orgasm hits you like a wave. San continues to latch on until your body settles, releasing himself from in between your thighs to hover over you and plant a trail of gentle kisses up your stomach;

Chest.

Neck.

Until he meets your lips in a deep, heated kiss. His hand comes up to cup your breast, thumb toying with your nipple while you respond to his touch. You lazily stroke him while he continues to kiss you, letting out low groans in between.

"Turn around for me, sweetheart." He whispers against your lips, gently biting down on your bottom lip and pulling back. You do as you're told, flipping onto your tummy as San presses you down against the mattress— ass up and backed up against him. He runs his hand down your back, pressing feathery kisses against the surface before slowly stroking himself and lining up at your entrance. He eases himself in, the both of you letting out loud moans that fill the room; probably echoing out into the balcony. He buries himself to the hilt before working at a slower pace, hands gripping your hips while he adjusts to the feeling of you wrapped tightly around him. He watches his cock slip in and out of you, your slickness coating his length. He hisses at the sight, head tilting back in pure pleasure as he finally begins to pound into you.

"That's my fucking good girl." He presses you down into the mattress, keeping your ass up against him. You continue to moan loudly, San giving your ass a loud smack as he continues to thrust into you roughly. "Tell me— whose pussy is this?"

"Yours."

"Louder, baby. Tell me whose is it."

"Yours!" You cry, San groaning behind you as he gives your ass another smack.

"Fuck, that's right." He groans. "So perfect, angel. You're all mine." He tugs on your hair and pulls you back towards him slightly, giving him leverage to moan praises in your ear as he continues to fuck into you. "Want you to ride me, can you do that for me, sweetheart?" You nod in between your whines, desperate to do anything for your man—

Desperate to feel him in any way, desperate to tip over the edge and come undone.

Suddenly, San pulls himself out and you feel empty. He lays back on the bed, resting against the headboard as he has you climb ontop and face the balcony doors. 

"Yeah, baby. Like that." He moans lowly while you instantly start to work him at a steady pace, eager to fill this ache in your core. "Always know how to ride me— made for me." He praises from behind as you swirl your hips around and bounce on his cock like no tomorrow. The new angle works in your favor deliciously; his perfectly thick cock rubbing against your walls and knocking his tip right at that delicate spot that always has you spiraling. You call his name out like a mantra as your hips work faster, sloppier.

You don't think you can hold on any longer.

"Mm— feels too good—San." Your moans are broken, breathing irregular. San knows you're close. "Can I cum?" You whimper, no longer able to hold back. "Wanna cum for you again." You plead cutely.

"Yes you can, love. Look at you, so pretty riding me." He praises you. "I'm getting there, just—fuck— keep doing that." He watches the way your ass bounces on him, relishing in the way your walls tighten around him. "Doing so well."

He'll snap.

"Sannie—" Everything feels like a blur, like white noise, when your orgasm comes crashing down on you in one swift motion. Your moan bounces off the walls as you still in his grip and ride out your orgasm; San fucking up into you to chase his own high shortly afterwards.

"Oh shit—" San's face contorts in pleasure, brows knitting tightly as he shoots his cum into you. "Shit." He repeats in between low groans, his fingers digging into your flesh as he releases every last drop inside of you. Cum damn near dripping out of your pussy.

"Oh my god." You pant, finally able to come to your senses post-orgasm. You give yourself a minute before carefully climbing off, giggling at San's fucked out look. You kiss him sweetly on the lips, continuing a string of tiny repeated kisses before you gain energy to head to the shower. "Gonna wash up if you wanna join me?" San smirks as he watches you head into the shower and turn the water on. He sighs before hopping off the bed and following suit, slipping into the shower right behind you. At first, it starts off sweet; San carefully taking his time with massaging the shampoo and conditioner in your hair and vice versa in between sharing deep, heated kisses.

His hands roam up your body, sweet touches and gentle moves— just to take you again in the shower; your back pressed against the cold wall, his arm hooked under your leg to prop it up while he fucks up into you harshly, roughly.

His name being called over, and over, and over again; just the way he likes it. Making you cum over, and over, and over again; just the way he likes it.

Because you are his, and he is yours.

The next morning comes, and you're awaken by San's soft hand slowly rubbing up your back along with his soft kisses to your bare shoulder. The sun is beaming through the balcony doors, providing extra warmth as San cuddles close to you.

"Wake up." He whispers in your ear, still continuing his motions on your back.

"I'm so tired." You mumble into the pillow, causing San to chuckle.

"Let's get breakfast before the conference."

"Is it really time already?"

"Mhm." He hums in a sing-song tone, now gently massaging your back.

"Can't we just stay like this?"

"You know I'd want that more than anything." He gives you a kiss to the head before dragging his body out of the sheets and into the bathroom. You stretch and fully wake yourself up, grabbing San's button-up from the nearby chair and slipping it on. You continue with your normal morning routine— the only difference this time is having San around, which makes things feel a little more complete. Once you've both gotten yourselves together, San is in a plain black tee and black jeans, glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose; you're in a simple get-up of a tight, white tee, dark jeans, an oversized blazer and boots. The two of you add finishing touches to hair or makeup before cleaning up around the room and heading downstairs to the next door restaurant for brunch. It's still pretty early, so you and San were sat immediately at a table on the back patio, facing the beach.

"This is pretty." You look out at the view. "It's perfect weather today."

"Yeah, it is." He flips through the menu. "You already know what you want, baby?"

"Mhm." You giggle. "I checked out the menu earlier." He laughs.

"Course."

"You ready to lead one of the panel discussions later?" He smiles.

"Uh, I'd say I'm way more relaxed knowing I don't have to prepare anything in advance." You nod. "What're you gonna do?"

"Listen in. Visit some posters after."

"Good thing my panel discussion is early. I actually don't plan on staying long unless you do." 

"No. I only came for you, remember?" You tease. "I'm surprised they still managed to slip you into the conference somehow even though you confirmed last minute. You're so wanted, Professor Choi." He shakes his head. Suddenly, your phone starts blaring off to the side, your eyes darting straight down to the caller ID flashing on the screen.

Jiung.

That's right. 

You said you'd call him back.

"You should get that, love." You silently nod, swiping to answer the call. 

"Hey."

"Okay, well. At least you're alive."

"Jiung." You whine a bit. "I'm sorry, I forgot."

"Bro." Jiung chuckles a bit, though kinda disappointed he hasn't been able to spend time with his bestfriend or even talk to you like before. You feel busy, but too distant, and Jiung isn't sure how to feel about it. "Where have you been? You're always so busy now. I was lowkey expecting you to call back last night but you didn't even do that when you usually do." You fiddle with the hem of your shirt before letting out a small sigh.

"I'm sorry. I know. It's just been crazy hectic, but I promise I'll do better, okay?" San looks at you from where he's sitting, slight concern crossing his expression.

"It's not that. Sorry— I just miss being able to hang out with you like before. You feel so distant even though you're right there."

—FLASHBACK

"Ayooooo!" Sunwoo says, running into Jiung near the Harvey Center. He gives him a dap and pulls him in for a hug, pausing in his steps to catch up with him for a quick minute. "What's up? Crazy I've barely ran into you all this time."

"Aye." Jiung laughs. "How's everything been?"

"Dude, pretty busy. But, I think Y/N and I have gotten some really good data to work off of for her rotation update and for the upcoming review cycles for the paper."

"That's awesome, I'm glad."

"How're things in Jongho's lab?"

"Constantly moving, you know how it is." He nods in agreement. "But making progress for my own rotation update, too."

"Sick. Proud of you." Sunwoo nods. "When is Y/N coming back from the conference?"

"I'm not sure actually. Probably Monday or Tuesday."

"I feel like I've barely seen her even though we're in the same lab." Jiung cocks his head to the side.

"Don't you guys work on behavior together?"

"Uh, for awhile, she's been working on her own schedule and catches me up later on. We only meet if we need to, like to go over data or if something goes wrong elsewhere."

"But, I thought you guys have been working late nights? She always says she's running off to the lab for the mice or behavior work." Sunwoo shrugs.

"Sorry dude, beats me. She hasn't been in the lab late at night for awhile. Our mice have been fine and we're wrapping up this cohort."

"Huh." Jiung says audibly, even though he meant it for himself.

"Yeah. She left for the Baskin Conference hella quick. I didn't even see her at NAS."

"Wait, really? I thought—" It's Sunwoo's turn to look confused. "Nevermind. I thought she saw you."

"Nah, she said she was busy with you guys all week!"

"So, she didn't sleep at yours or Belle's room?" Sunwoo tilts his head.

"Bruh, what? No." He laughs. "She definitely wasn't with us, so I'm not sure who she was with."

"I see." Jiung nods slowly. "Yeah, I guess it's just been hectic for her."

"I bet. I remember rotation days." He chuckles. "Anyway, gotta run. It was nice catching up for a quick minute." Jiung nods before parting ways. He lets out a breath, running his hand through his hair as he pulls out his phone.

He pauses.

What the fuck was he even gonna ask? How was he even gonna ask? While you're away, too?

What is even going through his mind right now?

"Ugh." Jiung groans, pulling up Felix's number to see if he's around, hoping it'll get his mind off of things until he can cohesively gather his thoughts. Meanwhile, Zara and Jongho are sitting at a table outside, waiting for the rest of the group to trickle in for lunch. Zara is having a fun, light conversation with Jongho about future lab plans just as Jiung crosses over. With Jiung passing the café, Zara suddenly gets triggered to ask the most pressing question she's had since the NAS conference. And Jongho senses it too, because by the time she shifts her attention back to him, he's already cocking a brow up.

"Jongho."

"Yes?"

"Can I ask you something?" 

"Sure? I might have an answer."

"San." Jongho smirks a bit as he sips on his iced americano.

"Ew." He laughs in his usual Jongho fashion, causing Zara to giggle shyly at her attempts of hiding her crush on his bestfriend. "Kidding. What about him?"

"Actually, now I'm kinda shy."

"No, you already put it out there so you have to ask now." Jongho chuckles.

"Has he been seeing anyone recently?" He takes a sip and sits back, letting out a sigh.

"You know, to be honest. I can't say for sure, but I think he is." He looks at her and can physically see the hope leaving her body. She's sad, and she has a right to be. Mingi tried his best to set them up and for a split second, it seemed like it could work.

Obviously, it didn't.

"I'm sorry, Zara. I know that's not what you wanna hear, but I have to be honest so that you don't get hurt. I think whatever your gut has been telling you is right."

"Is it too much to ask who? Like are they from here?" He shrugs.

"That asshole hasn't told me much lately." She laughs, and Jongho feels relieved he can at least cheer her up amidst the news. 

He knows. 

He knows exactly who it is and how long it's been. San didn't have to tell him, but he could have at least let her know he wasn't interested. Fucking Choi San. 

"It's fine. It shouldn't matter anyway, he seems to be happy."

"Yeah." Jongho adds. "Yeah, he does."

"And I just hope he's doing the right thing." Jongho looks at her without saying much besides a simple nod. 

Maybe, she knows too.

—END

"I know." Silence. "I'll make up for it when I get back."

"All good. I just hadda get it off of my chest."

"We'll plan things like the old days, k?"

"When are you getting back, anyway?"

"Tomorrow evening. Late."

"Hm, okay. Are you enjoying your stay at least?"

"I am, it's really nice here."

"That's good. Enjoy yourself there, but be safe, please."

"I will."

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Are you sure you are?" What he really means to say is 'i know you haven't been telling the truth and i just wanna know why.'

"I am, Jiung. I promise."

"Did you see anyone there, by the way? Any familiar faces? Professors?" You furrow your brows at the random question.

"Hm, no. Not yet, at least. I've been staying at a hotel that's a little farther out."

"Oh. Why? Was it cheaper?"

"Mhm." You respond just to brush off the topic.

"I heard Professor Choi was gonna be there, though!"

"Mm. I think it might've been mentioned by him in passing." Jiung fiddles with the hem of his shirt while he listens to the awkward silence on the other line, trying to figure out what exactly he's trying to hear from you. He remembers Jurin mentioning that she saw you with Professor Choi at the bar and she jokingly teased about it. And Jiung laughed it off. But, now he doesn't think it's a joke anymore. Cause everything within him is pointing to something he thinks is entirely off, entirely wrong. Unreal.

Unacceptable.

But, the pieces to the puzzle are slowly being put together and he swears he can't ignore the feeling in his gut. What exactly is it trying to tell him?

That it's true?

He doesn't want it to be, and for once, he hopes he's fucking wrong.

"Alright, well. I'll let you be." He yawns. "I'm about to go out for a run."

"Be safe."

"Text me when you get home, please?"

"I will."

"Is.. everything okay?" You sigh and set your phone aside.

"Yeah, it's just Jiung. We've always been close and we've always spent a lot of time together so he was just wondering where I've been."

"I'm sorry, baby."

"No, you don't have to say sorry. I just have to be better about my time and spending more time with my friends. Kinda hard when you have a hot bf." He snorts.

"But, you should spend more time with them. I'm not going anywhere so don't worry about me."

"It's on me."

"You think they know who you've been spending time with?" He smirks just as the waitress comes to set down the food. San gives her a quick nod of appreciation before returning his attention to you.

"I don't think so."

"Even Jiung?"

"Doubt it." You start digging into your food.

"Can I ask you one more thing, angel?" You look up at him and nod, chewing your food. "Have you ever thought Jiung liked you as more than a friend?"

"No way." He cocks a brow up as he eats.

"You sure?"

"I'm so sure, Sannie."

"I'm genuinely just curious. He seems to really care about you."

"And I do, too. But, we do as friends."

"Fair enough." Is all San says. He's not entirely bothered by it, but at the same time, he is. Because he knows they'll find out one day. He knows the relationship won't always be a secret to your friends. He's just not sure what that means when it comes to Jiung and how much of a voice he'll be in your ear. Would he try to convince you that San doesn't care about you? Would he try to convince you that all of this was incredibly wrong? Force you to face the facts and wake the hell up?

He brushes the thoughts away when you start talking about your mom and how you plan to see her next weekend. The conversation goes down the rabbit hole— the two of you exchanging more childhood stories and memories.

When breakfast is done, you and San drive over to the venue for the conference. The session for the panel discussion he's participating in starts right after the first talk of the conference. When he pulls up to the venue, he luckily finds a spot at the back end, far corner. It's a bit of a walk to the main entrance, and San is having to walk in first since he needs to check in and head straight to the mic room for audio testing and a quick run down of what to expect. You trail in a few minutes after, checking in as a regular guest and grabbing the agenda on your way into the main conference room where all the talks and poster sessions would be taking place.

You don't see any familiar faces or professors you personally know, which allows you to release a breath of relief. You settle into a seat as the first speaker gets introduced and settled onto the stage, the crew bringing up her presentation on the projector. San is sitting off to the side with two other people— names you are slightly familiar with, but haven't done much research on their work or what they've been up to. Everyone around you is dressed in business casual attire as well, taking notes as she continues to go through her 20 minute presentation. Once the 20 mins breezes on by, the host kicks off the 10 min discussion session that starts off with San highlighting some of her data. It does spark a lively conversation between the panelists and the crowd, a few people raising their hands for quick questions. 

After her session finishes, the host introduces the next talk that follows the same format, then the last of the session. It's about a good hour and a half, shy over a few minutes, that they conclude session one and adjourn for a break before session two. You head to the opposite end of the room to see the posters up at this time, pausing at a few and jotting down some notes for Belle and Sunwoo. You know they'd be interested in hearing your findings, and you've already stumbled across some intriguing projects in the 15 minutes you've walked down the aisle. As session two kicks off, you continue to observe the rest of the posters, spotting San in the crowd speaking to a small group of people around him. You watch him for a little, adoring the way he flawlessly pulls people in and charms them with his signature, dimpled smile. He has a hand in his pocket, cup of coffee in the other hand.

It's definitely black coffee and you can't help but wince a little to yourself knowing he's happily sipping that.

And, somehow, he always manages to catch you. Just as you're about to turn and finish up with the posters, he meets your gaze and gives you a tiny smile. His eyes linger on you for a little longer before he returns his attention to the group, causing the heat to rise to your cheeks as you pass through the remaining presenters.

san: wanna head out after session 3?

you: damn already? 🤣

san: baby? lol.

san: i meant it when i said i wasn't trying to stay long. 🥹

san: i just wanna get out of here and spend more time with you before we have to fly back.

you: mkay, lover boy. hahaha

san: come meet me by the ballroom entrance, we can find a seat together once session 2 wraps up.

you: okay, professor!

You do as you're told, meeting San by the entrance. You stick by his side as you wait for session two to wrap up, proceeding to the free seats near the left side of the room. The both of you keep it strictly professional as others settle around you, only really discussing things like your findings from the poster session or his panel discussion.

No one bats an eye.

Meanwhile, Yunho walks into lobby and struts into the conference late. He rushed over from a prior commitment, only deciding to join the conference since he was already in the area. Session 3 is about to end, but Yunho is at the back, greeting those around him quietly before taking a moment to stroll down the posters. He asks a few questions, engages with a few presenters before running into other familiar faces and conversing with them. He follows them over to the finger foods that have been set out for lunch, grabbing some quick bites to nibble on. At some point, he hurries off to the bathroom to release himself and quickly freshen up— already pretty exhausted from his day, and it's barely past lunch time. 

When Yunho exits the bathroom, he has to pause in his steps when he does a double-take after hearing the side back door shut and catches you with San. The two of you are leaving the venue— his hand on the small of your back while he hurriedly guides you to the passenger's seat of his car near the back end of the lot. Yunho continues to watch as San slips into the front seat, swallowing the lump in this throat as he pulls out and drives off.

Now, Yunho feels the conflict bubbling within him cause he didn't want to be right.

Yet, he is.

And it can't be good for anybody.

"Hey." Yunho answers the call [coincidentally] coming in from his wife. He sets down the hall, eyes still peering out into the lot as if he can see more of you and San. He clearly doesn't, but it doesn't make the feeling in his stomach settle.

"Hey! How's the conference going?"

"It's going well! Nothing too crazy." Is all he manages to say, which catches Iseul off guard. He's typically one to say more, so him holding back feels weird to her.

"You sure it's going well? You sound pretty quiet."

"Yeah, uh. It's nothing."

"Love." He sighs, silently greeting familiar faces before excusing himself to the corner of the lobby where it's a little quieter.

"I just don't know how to explain what I saw."

"Try?"

"San's here with Y/N, my TA."

"Okay? She's rotating in his lab, right? People meet up with their students all the time, I don't get it?"

"No, baby. Listen. I think he's here.. with her." There's a small pause before Iseul speaks up again. 

"Are you sure? Cause that's a pretty bold assumption. You know something like that is serious and can cause a lot of issues."

"I don't know. I can't say, but I'm just feeling weird about it. I did see them together at NAS, too. Saw them getting kinda close with each other, away from the crowd." Yunho just briefly remembers running into you and San on his way out of the bathroom. The two of you had been standing off to the side in a far corner, sipping on some water while talking. San was standing in close proximity to you, smiling down at you almost like—

There was fondness in his eyes, some kind of awe and admiration for you. 

Yunho and San haven't talked in years, but he still knows what that look is. He's seen it before.

Starting with the symposium. 

"Yunho, why don't you talk to Namjoon?"

"No, no." He shakes his head as he continues to pace around the same corner. "Not gonna do that right now cause what if I'm entirely wrong? I don't have any other concrete facts besides what I saw. What if he's just offering her a ride?"

"I mean, that could mean something or nothing at all. Were they just walking alongside of each other or..?"

"Uh, no." He scratches at his temple. "He had his hand on her back and guided her to the car."

"Okay, so it's something. You should talk to Namjoon." He shakes his head— torn between doing what's right versus what's wrong; aka letting San be happy despite how fucked up all of that is on the surface level.

"I, yeah— Anyway, that's all. Enough about that, I'll figure it out." Iseul sighs. "Conference is good though, seeing more familiar faces than I did at NAS."

"Hm." Iseul hums, now thinking about the idea of San potentially dating a student. She doesn't try to meddle though because both her and Yunho don't have much to work with. And although her and San don't get along, she doesn't wanna cause any more trouble for him. "That's good, honey."

Yet, at the same time, there's no way she can let this be now. Yunho opened that door and they're here.

If she needs to help him figure it out, then that's exactly what she'll do.

—read 9.5 here

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thechaotictheoryy @vixensss @santineez @nopension @domfikeluva @in-somnias-world @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @mountiiny @naoristerling

[floralcyanide]

ᴡɪɴᴇ ᴅʀᴜɴᴋ — ᴄɪʟʟɪᴀɴ ᴍᴜʀᴘʜʏ

cillian murphy x fem!reader (nsfw)

you and your best friend Cillian get wine drunk to celebrate his new role.

✣ warnings: smut, mentions of alcohol, drinking, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, nipple play, female anatomy described, no prep, (not proof-read at all sorry oops)

✣ word count: 1.5k

✣ author’s note: this is short and sweet and I wrote a quarter of it like a year and a half ago and wanted to finish it when I stumbled upon it in my docs. I hope yall enjoy and happy new year (:

masterlist | divider credit: @cafekitsune

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

You always told yourself you’d never go after someone who didn’t want you fully. They had to want your everything, love your everything, and show it. Yet here you are, in your best friend’s bed, wondering what the hell you’ve gotten yourself into. And wondering whether or not this was just a one-night type of thing. Even if it is, everything about your friendship has definitely changed. 

It started as a typical night at Cillian’s, sharing a bottle of wine and discussing roles he wanted to play this coming year. He already snagged a role as Johnathan Crane in the upcoming Batman movie, and you were beyond proud of him. But with the dim lights, candles lit, and the wine warming the two of you up, there was an undeniable tension in the room. A tension that had been building for a while and was now spilling into the night. Cillian was sitting across from you on the couch, leg crossed over the other. You were curled up, knees to your chest, as you sipped your wine. He stared at you, his gaze unwavering. You stared back, searching his eyes for an inkling of his thoughts. Warmth spread through your limbs and across your face as his eyes darkened. 

“What’s on your mind, love?” Cillian asked, his voice slightly raspy.

You cleared your throat, biting your lip and keeping eye contact, “You.”

“Really?” Cillian hummed, “What about me?”

You unravel your arms and legs, crawling over to where he was sitting, “Just you.”

Cillian pushed his hair from his face, looking you up and down with drowsy eyes.

“Gonna keep it a secret, huh?” Cillian chuckled, reaching a hand out to touch your hair.

You watched as he twirled it around his finger, “Maybe,” you looked back up at him, “What’s on your mind?”

“You,” Cillian blinked at you, “But I’m not gonna hide it.”

You inhaled sharply through your nose before groaning and covering your face with your hands, “Don’t do this to me.”

“Do what to you?” Cillian asked, pulling your hands away from your face.

“Tease me,” you huffed, “What are you getting at here?”

“Maybe it’s the wine talking or the fact you look absolutely perfect right now,” Cillian said, keeping your hands in his as he stroked your knuckles with his thumb, “But I need you.”

You froze, “Need?”

Cillian looked down, laughing, before he set his eyes back on you, “Yes. I fucking need you, darling.”

You needed him to spell it out for you. So, you looked at him, puzzled. Cillian’s hands moved to your hips, pulling you onto his lap. 

“So,” Cillian massaged your skin through your comfy pants, “What about me were you thinking of?”

“How proud I am of you and how good you look in these sweatpants,” you blushed.

Your mind was swimming from the wine, and you knew you were treading in dangerous waters by being so outrightly flirty with your best friend. But you no longer cared because he was now flirty with you, too.

“Ah,” Cillian smiled, “I knew there was something naughty floating around up here,” he carded his fingers through your hair, scratching at your scalp playfully.

“And how did you know, exactly?” you wondered out loud.

“I see how you look at me,” Cillian whispered, pulling his hands from your hair and putting them back on your hips, “With a burning desire.”

You gulp nervously. Was it that obvious?

“Is that so?” you quirk an eyebrow, your shaky voice shrouding any faux confidence you were displaying.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Cillian leans into the side of your head, his lips brushing your ear as he presses his hips into your core; the feeling of him hardening underneath you makes your skin prickle, “I feel the same way about you.”

“Really?” your voice cracks, and you inwardly wince at your nervousness.

“Really,” Cillian replies, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear, his tongue gliding down until he reaches your lobe, gently nibbling on the flesh.

Your hands that were by your side, afraid they’d shake, slowly wrapped around Cillian’s neck. He travels down your neck, leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses as he occasionally licks your skin, relishing in your scent and taste. You give your hips an experimental swivel, and Cillian groans into your neck as he grows harder against your clothed core. He begins to toy with the hem of your shirt, sliding his hands underneath the fabric to feel your warm skin.

You wordlessly remove your shirt, tossing it to the floor. Cillian tries his best to keep his eyes glued to yours instead of letting them roam your body. But when you let your hands wander behind your back to unclasp your bra, Cillian fails at his task. His palms move from your sides to your bare breasts, his thumbs brushing against your nipples, causing them to harden. You moan quietly at the feeling, and he repeats the action. Cillian squeezes your breasts as he toys with them, your back arching in pleasure. Before you can react, Cillian latches his warm mouth onto one of your nipples, provoking you to let out a whimper as he laps at the bud with his tongue. 

Without much thought, you grind down on him. This elicits a moan from Cillian, causing a vibration against your delicate skin. While his mouth is on one nipple, his fingers play with the other, and every few seconds, he’ll switch which one is rolled by his teeth. Your hands find Cillian’s hair, but only for a moment. He tugs at your pants, and you slide off his lap to remove them in haste. While you do so, Cillian slips off his shirt and sweatpants, and you can’t help but notice the bulge in his underwear. It’s been a while since your last sexual endeavor, and you hope he can fit inside you.

Cillian pulls you back onto his lap, and the thin fabric of your underwear is the only barrier between him and you. You put your hands on his chest as you bare down on his cock, bucking your hips back and forth. Cillian grips your hips softly as he guides you along him, his eyes cloudy with lust as he stares into yours, also clouded with desire. Cillian halts your movements. If you keep going, he’s going to cum in his underwear. You hover over him as he pulls down his last item of clothing, and you hurriedly shimmy yours off as well. Resuming your previous position, you grind your clit against Cillian’s hardened cock, feeling yourself grow wetter. Cillian bites his lip as he watches you pleasure yourself on him.

It doesn’t last long, however. Cillian pulls you up so he can place his tip against your entrance.

“Is this good?” he asks, his fingernails tracing shapes on your hips.

“This is great,” you smile, placing your hand on the back of his neck, “I want this.”

Cillian presses his fingertips into the flesh on your thighs as he pushes himself into you slowly. You sigh as the feeling of fullness burns delightfully until he’s fully seated inside you. You bite your lip as you adjust to Cillian’s girth. It’s everything you had hoped for in your imagination.

“You’re so tight,” Cillian groans, his head leaning back on the top of the couch, but his eyes are still level with yours, “Feels so good.”

You wiggle your hips to move him further into you, and you both moan at the feeling. Cillian pulls out slightly before pushing back in, gaining a rhythm as your wet cunt welcomes him, his length moving in and out of you with ease. You move your body along with his, grinding your hips on his as you fuck. Your head is nothing but lustful mush from the wine and the feeling of Cillian dragging inside you. Cillian isn’t far off, his brain buzzing from the alcohol and how you clench around him with every thrust.

Cillian grasps your breasts as you begin bouncing on his cock, your heavy breathing and moans making him desperate to cum inside you. He has always wondered how it would feel to fill you up with his cum, whether it be your cunt or your mouth. Soon, he won’t have to wonder. 

“I’m gonna cum, Cill,” you whine, your hips stuttering from the exertion.

“Gonna cum on my cock, doll?” Cillian groans, driving his length into you even faster, “Want me to cum inside? Hmm?”

“Yes,” you whimper without missing a beat, “Please cum in me, I want you to fill me up,”

“Good girl,” Cillian sighs, feeling himself grown closer to his orgasm.

You cum a lot quicker than expected, thanks to Cillian’s praise. You tremble as you fuck yourself on his cock until your body goes limp. You allow Cillian to continue, purposefully clenching around him to spur him on.

“Fuck,” Cillian curses, “I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum for me, Cillian,” you purr, bouncing your overstimulated cunt along his throbbing cock.

With one final thrust, Cillian spills into you with a gasp. You’re both sweaty, out of breath, and high with bliss. You can’t help but laugh.

“What?” Cillian’s face breaks into a smile, “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head, “I just wasn’t expecting this to happen tonight, is all. I’m glad it did, though.”

Cillian moves your hair out of your face, “Me too.”

[seungfl0wer]

*𝙃𝙤𝙡𝙞𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝘿𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙨 𝙒/ 𝙎𝙆𝙕*

Pairing: Hyung - Line x Reader (GN)

Genre: Fluff

A/N: Could I have made this just all one? Yes. Why didn’t I? Because I wanted something to post tomorrow on Christmas too lol. Hopefully these turned out as cute as i thought. Happy holidays to all! PS. Sorry for any mistakes!

Hyung Line | Maknae Line

-🎄

Bangchan:

Both bundled up for the cold weather as you walked into the tree farm. Chans hands interlocked with yours. This was the first Christmas you were spending living together and he wanted to make it perfect. He came up with the idea to go find the perfect tree for what he says “the perfect person.”

“How about this one?” He asks pointing at a tree.

“Chris- that’s gigantic” you said laughing making him laugh.

“Fine fine, let’s keep looking” he said smiling taking his hand from yours to wrap it around your waist.

After a few minutes of strolling you came to a medium sized tree, it had the perfect amount of leafiness. “Oh oh! This one’s perfect!” You say smiling. His heart melted at the way your eyes just lit up. You were smiling so widely looking at him with those beautiful eyes.

“Alright this one it is! I’ll go get someone you protect our new son” he said with a teasing seriousness.

When he came back with the guy he helped cut it down and took it to the car. As you got it back home he listened to you talk about decorating it. Smiling ear to ear just listening to how excited you were.

“You know, I’m happy I get to do this with you” you said smiling taking his hand that was on your lap.

His cheeks and ears started to turn red blushing at your words. He brought your hand up to kiss it “me to love, and many many years to come” he said blushing even more. His words making you blush along with him.

As you decorated you both couldn’t help the warm feeling of it all. Chan helped you up to put on the star stepping back to look at your work. “It looks perfect” you said smiling. The lights from the tree making your eyes look even more sparkly than normal.

“Not as perfect as you” he says pulling you to him. He kissed the top of your head as you smiled looking at the tree. He insisted on taking a bunch of pictures and making sure to get one or a ton of you both in-front of it.

Minho:

You weren’t completely sure if he’d be down to do it but you were hopeful. You had gotten all the stuff for it plopping down all the bags on the counter. You sat everything up before he got there. Placing all the little candies out and the boxes for the gingerbread houses. You may have went overboard but you were just excited.

When he arrived he couldn’t help but chuckle making you jump. “So this was your big plan hm?” He said with a grin.

“Yep! But if you don’t want to it’s-“ you started to say only for him to interrupt you.

“No I want to, gonna build a better house than you” he teased.

“Oh yeah? Wanna make a bet?” You say.

“Name your price loser” he teased.

“If I win you have to match PJs with me and take a picture!” You say.

“Fine and when I win you have to make those cookies for me” he says.

“Oh it’s on!” You giggle.

You both sit down at the table crafting your masterpieces. However he was getting frustrated with the house. It kept sliding “I think this was rigged” he huffed.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the way his house was leaning, the one side falling off. You wanted it to be a fun time so you decided to help him. “You’re using too much if you do this” you say as you fix it making it stand perfectly.

“There” you say smiling.

“You know you shouldn’t help your opponent” he said with a chuckle.

“Well I was planning on making those cookies either way so” you still smiling as you decorated the house.

“Yeah? Guess I’ll do the PJs buuut we gotta get the cats in the picture” he said.

“Deal” you say kissing his cheek.

As you finished the houses Minho took a glob of icing smearing it on your lips. “Oops” he laughed. “Let me get that for you” he said kissing it off your lips.

“Smooth” you blushed.

“Of course, it’s me” he said before kissing you once more. “Missed a spot”

Changbin:

It had been snowing a lot the last couple of days. Changbin had come over surprising you because you thought he worked. “Hey gorgeous, get your snow stuff on” he said smiling.

“For what?” You asked confused.

“Just do it pleeease” he whined.

How could you say no to him? You got up putting all your stuff on. He smiled taking your hand as you both went outside. It was still snowing a little but he had a few things In a bag.

“Let’s make a snow couple” he said grinning ear to ear.

“Gonna be together human and snow form?” You say laughing.

“Duh” he teased back.

He helped you roll the snow up as you both got to work making cute little snow people. He had a few item to put on them like hats and scarfs. He found the perfect sticks for the arms as you made little faces in the heads.

You decorated them both stepping back to look at the snow couple you made. “They’re in love” he said smiling. “Oh wait!” He said moving their hands so they were holding “now they’re in love” he said making you giggle.

“If we stay out here any longer we’re gonna be the snow couple” you said.

“Right, let’s go inside and get some hot chocolate?” He said smiling.

He made you sit on the couch in a bunch of blankets making you both some hot chocolate. He handed you the mug snuggling up to your side. “Warm?” He asked. You nodded prompting him to put his cold hands on your stomach. You jumped at the coldness “hey! I just got warm!” You pouted.

“Yeah, now I gotta get warm” he said chuckling putting the rest of his cold body against yours.

Hyunjin:

Hyunjin found a flyer for a holiday market that was going on this weekend. He excitedly asked you if you wanted to go with him and of course you said yes.

He had cute couple outfits picked out for the both of you making the whole day even more special. You both strolled down looking at the booths. Some had holiday candles, snacks and clothes. “I’ll be right back.” He said with a grin running off to another booth.

When he came back he had that smile of ‘I did something’. He moved your coat placing a little necklace around your neck with the letter H on it. He had another in his hand with the first letter of your name on it. “Would you do the honors” he said smiling moving his hair.

God why was he so freaking cute. You placed the necklace around his neck. He brought you into a tight hug kissing you softly. He couldn’t help but smile looking at you. “I love you Angel” he said kissing your cold nose.

“And I love you hyune thank you” you said softly.

“For what?” He asked.

“The necklace silly”

“Oh right” he laughed “of course! Thought it would be cute.” He blushed. “We should take some pictures” he said pulling his phone out.

You both strolled, stopping at more booths and to take more pictures. After it all you ended up with bags full of clothes, one with a few candles and of course all the snacks. He couldn’t help it, anything that you even so much as looked at he bought.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp @ldysmfrst @felixleftchickennugget

[certainempatheticturkeymuffin]

Saw a post about Mushang and it's similarities to Liushen, then thought about how interesting it would be to have those in the same fic — then I went down a rabbit hole that included Mobing and Gongzhi (for some reason?)

so... here's this plotbunny, it's really fucking long though, sorry!

(oops, it posted before I finished, sorry about that, it's fixed now!)

-

Shang Qinghua knew, theoretically, that his death would be at the hands of Mobei-jun. He knew that when he saved him, he knew that all these years of serving him, but... it's finally sunk in. That Mobei-jun is going to kill him. That the bruises and frostbite and broken bones are all leading up to his death. He wraps another cut and thinks, somewhat deliriously... that maybe he should've killed Mobei-jun on that mission.

Shen Qingqiu knew his fate — the fate of the Scum Villain. He knew that any goodwill he'd built up was destroyed the moment he pushed Luo Binghe into the Abyss. Knows that all those years of treating him well, only to betray him, may have actually made the situation worse. He thinks back on that day, suddenly realizing that he probably could've made it look like an accident — he could've had Binghe "accidentally" pushed into the Abyss during the chaos, could've faked a Without-A-Cure flare up to excuse his lack of rescue. Maybe, if he'd done that, Binghe would've had mercy.

Their weekly meetings become stilted, their tea goes cold, their snacks uneaten. They don't argue about Airplane's terrible writing, they don't even reminisce over AC or the internet. The air is filled with unease, polluting each of their peaks... until they both snap. They confide in each other, cursing the System, cursing their choices, and try to plan — to dig themselves out of these holes they've dug. The clock is ticking for Binghe's return. Shang Qinghua's wounds are getting worse — he doesn't know if his death will be expedited or delayed at this rate.

And so, they argue and plan and eventually come to a few conclusions...

Shang Qinghua needs the protection of the sect. Needs to confess and beg for Yue Qingyuan's protection as he abandons Mobei-jun. Needs the protection of someone Mobei-jun had no chance of defeating.

Shen Qingqiu, likewise, needs protection — but it's written that Luo Binghe cannot lose, not to anyone in the sect... no one, except for Liu Qingge, who didn't live long enough to fight him, who didn't have a single canonical fight for the world to measure him against. The War God. The one person that wasn't bound by the narrative.

They decide to deal with Shang Qinghua first — Binghe isn't scheduled to leave the Abyss for years, after all. Mobei-jun, however, is a current threat. Every meeting leaves Shang Qinghua with more and more injuries, injuries that the original goods never had to deal with. They don't know if this Mobei-jun is going to follow PIDW's timeline. They don't know how long it'll take before he beats Shang Qinghua to a bloody pulp. After some arguing, it's agreed to come clean to Mu Qingfang first — to test the waters. He's been treating all of Shang Qinghua's wounds since they were disciples, and he'd be good back up if Yue Qingyuan didn't immediately cave to Shen Qingqiu's demands. Of course, Shang Qinghua wouldn't tell the complete truth — no one needed to know that Shang Qinghua spared Mobei-jun because he was hot — but he wouldn't alter the story too much. Better to keep to small lies, easy to keep consistent.

If it goes poorly... they'll just run. They'll abandon the friends and family they've found here, and they'll use whatever plot devices they can find to disguise themselves. The only reason it's not Plan A is because Mobei-jun knows Shang Qinghua's qi signature, and the only artifacts they know that can change qi signatures are... annoying to acquire and dangerous to use.

-

Mu Qingfang isn't surprised when Shang-shixiong shows up with various injuries, absolutely covered in demonic qi. It's routine at this point to sit him down, perform a check up, and ask questions he knows won't be answered. So he does. He heals the cuts and bruises, sets and heals the bones, and does his best to calm the eternally-stressed qi lest his shixiong have a deviation. He asks how this happened, expecting the usual evasive answer (hating that his shixiong is being abused while he does nothing but fix the aftermath), and...

and Shang Qinghua answers.

His shixiong, after years– decades of asking, stutters out an explanation. That he's been a spy for Mobei-jun since that mission where he was the only survivor. That he did it because he was scared, that by the time he was powerful enough to do anything about it, Mobei-jun was a king, and it would probably start a war if he killed him. He says Mobei-jun's been hurting him more often, that he's terrified he's going to die, and Mu Qingfang carefully soothes his shixiong's qi as tears start to fall and he stutters out his plan to team up with Shen-shixiong to tell Zhangmen-shixiong, to beg for forgiveness — for protection, even if it means sitting in a prison cell. He just doesn't want to die.

And in the face of his sobbing shixiong, constantly over-worked and terrified, Mu Qingfang promises to help. Because what else can he do? Turn his back on the shixiong he's been watching slowly fall apart over the decades? The shixiong he's watched go from introverted to downright anxious — the shixiong he's had to pick up and put back together with increasing frequency. Even if he hadn't come clean, Mu Qingfang would've had to have done something soon, with the way the injuries were increasing in severity. He's just glad Shang-shixiong told him first, so they could approach the sect leader together. It wouldn't have been good for his shixiong's stress levels if he'd demanded the sect leader interrogate him to figure out what was going on.

So, the two meet up with Shen Qingqiu and demand a meeting with Yue Qingyuan, who, as always, immediately makes time for Shen-shixiong. Shang Qinghua stutters through his story again, Mu Qingfang regulating his qi, and Shen Qingqiu bringing out a particular icy glare whenever Yue Qingyuan looks like he's going to interrupt. Zhangmen-shixiong's face is carefully blank by the time Shang Qinghua finishes speaking, at which point, Mu Qingfang decides to speak up.

He tells Zhangmen-shixiong of the countless injuries over the decades, of his certainty of their demonic origin, even during that first meeting. He tells the sect leader that if Shang Qinghua is going to be punished for protecting himself, for preventing a war, then he'll need to punish Mu Qingfang too. As a head disciple, he should've reported any suspicious injuries to his shizun, as a Peak Lord, he should've immediately informed Zhangmen-shixiong of Shang Qinghua's continuous injuries and of their suspiciously demonic origin. He says that he has even less of an excuse than Shang Qinghua, who was genuinely afraid for his life and the well-being of his sect. Mu Qingfang simply didn't want to make the situation worse for him, ignoring all rules and expectations that would've had the situation cleared up sooner.

Shen Qingqiu, clearly approving of Mu Qingfang's ardent defense, decides to continue, stating that the sect hasn't experienced an increase in failed missions or other sabotage. He explains that, clearly, Shang Qinghua had been doing his best to protect the sect, even under such strenuous circumstances. He sees no reason to be harsh towards someone who'd been a child when it started, and who was so thoroughly terrified that he only approached Shen Qingqiu, as a friend, because he could see he'd end up dead sooner or later due to the beatings.

Yue Qingyuan lets them all say their piece, and sighs. He sees Shang Qinghua's terror, and he understands both Mu Qingfang and Shen Qingqiu's arguments. He says that this was a breach of trust, that ordinarily this would call for execution, but... Shang Qinghua has not caused harm to the sect, and had he continued, the only harm would've been to himself. As long as Mu Qingfang and Shen Qingqiu are willing to bear the consequences, Yue Qingyuan will allow this to be swept under the rug, never spoken of again.

Mu Qingfang and Shen Qingqiu are quick to agree, and Shang Qinghua's punishment is to update the sect's defense arrays... left unsaid was the expectation that Mobei-jun never be able to enter the sect again. And so, the matter is dealt with, and Shang-shixiong looks like he's had the weight of the world lifted off him once the arrays are complete.

So long as he doesn't leave the sect without a qi-cloaking artifact (courtesy of the Artifact Peak), he'll be safe. Mu Qingfang feels... thrilled, to know his shixiong won't have to suffer anymore.

-

Liu Qingge notices Shen Qingqiu's nerves as he cleanses his meridians. It's an unexpected change of pace, given the dour mood the man's been in for... months, at this point. The session finishes in silence, but there's an air of anticipation that has Liu Qingge... loitering, just a bit.

Eventually, Shen Qingqiu lets out a sigh, pours him tea, and starts to talk — quietly, as if ashamed of his words. He shares that, during the chaos at the end of the Immortal Alliance Concerence, his prized disciple broke a seal. It had been placed on him at birth, presumably by one of his parents, and revealed him to be a heavenly demon. He explains that he panicked at the sight of the seal, understanding what it meant, but his disciple looked just as shocked as him. He understood that his disciple was a demon, that he clearly didn't know that fact, and given the presence of multiple sects and the ongoing catastrophe... his disciple would die, if anyone else stumbled upon him.

Liu Qingge listens, as Shen Qingqiu shares that he pushed his own disciple into the Endless Abyss. His grief makes more sense now, Liu Qingge thinks. It's not just the grief of a teacher losing their favorite student, it's also the guilt of pushing that student into danger, even if it's to protect them. Even he would've hesitated to cut down the disciple, if he'd formed such a bond and the child clearly had no idea what was going on.

They continue sitting in silence, and Liu Qingge is almost ready to leave, before Shen Qingqiu speaks up again. He explains that Luo Binghe was a heavenly demon, and the last one — presumably his father — required the collaboration of multiple sects to seal away. There's a chance that Luo Binghe will survive the Abyss, and escape it.

There's a muted fear in Shen Qingqiu's eyes, as he states there's a chance Luo Binghe will hunt him down. That, given a demon's propensity for overreactions, he may take the entire sect with him. It wasn't like he explained his reasoning, when he pushed the child into the Abyss. All he'd know is that his caring shizun saw he was a demon and immediately pushed him into hell.

And Liu Qingge can understand that fear. Heavenly Demons were strong, too strong for even him to be confident in facing them alone. Even if this one was a child, if it managed to escape the Abyss... it would be too strong for Shen Qingqiu to survive. There's an obvious solution then: train until Shen Qingqiu is strong enough to at least run away.

He says that they'll go on hunts together, so Shen Qingqiu can fight those beasts he knows so much about, to get in practice as they look for any artifact that might help him. He says they'll spar, and he'll even let him face the Bai Zhan disciples for variety. Shen Qingqiu is... reluctant, but quickly realizes that it's probably his best option. With the condition that they return to the sect at least once a month to check on his disciples, he agrees to Liu Qingge's proposal.

They'll both train, and Liu Qingge won't let him out of sight for even a moment — not with a heavenly demon after his head.

-

The months afterwards are... peaceful.

An Ding grows used to the sight of Mu Qingfang, who arrives just before dawn every morning to share breakfast with Shang Qinghua before they must start work. They do each other's hair and gossip, sharing whatever happened the day before as they get ready. Without the constant fear, and with Mu Qingfang's help taming his curls (as the only other one in the sect with curly hair), the sect slowly comes to realize that Shang Qinghua is a total knockout, actually, it was just hidden behind frizzy hair, eyebags, and his constant terrified hunching.

There are still bad days, of course, where Mu Qingfang has to insist he delegate his work to his head disciple, or where Shang Qinghua ends up on Qian Cao in the middle of the night having a panic attack, but... they're growing rarer as time passes. Qian Cao learns to turn their heads when Shang Qinghua arrives with an early shipment or unexpected, expensive goods. They learn to mind their business when they see him comfort their Shizun after a particularly challenging day.

It doesn't really surprise anyone when they start courting. The only surprise is that Shang Qinghua is the one that started it, but even that is less shocking now than it would've been the year before. An Ding is happy that their shifu finally looks safe and healthy (he actually stops working at a reasonable hour now, even if it is still after sunset), and Qian Cao is glad their shizun has someone of his own to vent to (given the stress of his job and the various struggles that come with it).

As for Qing Jing, they're absolutely thrilled that their shizun isn't moping anymore. The loss of Binghe hit them hard too, but seeing Shen Qingqiu make the effort to go on hunts made it easier for them to move on too. They miss him, when he's gone, but he always returns with treats from various villages, and a week's worth of stories and lessons to impart. He's even compiled his own bestiary! Ning Yingying has taken to giving Liu Qingge sweets as a thank you for helping her shizun, and Ming Fan grows more comfortable in his old role as head disciple, with how his shizun actually sees him and compliments him, rather than missing Binghe. The Bamboo House is still... a very hard place to be. Without Shizun, it's empty, and even with his recovery, the vacant room seems to bring back his grief.

Seeing this, Qing Jing is both relieved and absolutely pissed when Liu Qingge offers up his spare room instead. Shen Qingqiu accepts, and it's become common for him to join the Bai Zhan disciples in their morning exercises before returning to teach on Qing Jing. They are, understandably, absolutely pumped to have another Peak Lord around to fight (on top of their own being around more often! Shifu teaches them more! And is he getting better at it? What miracles!)

They settle into a routine, and, though it takes an unexpectedly long time, they announce their courting to Yue Qingyuan, who looks both heartbroken and extremely happy for them. Qing Jing gives Liu Qingge a surprisingly scary shovel talk (though he's mostly amused, he respects their dedication), but are overall very happy that their shizun is happy. Bai Zhan is just cheering that another Peak Lord has basically taken up permanent residence, since Shen Qingqiu stays in Liu Qingge's house rather than the bamboo house. They enjoy the unique challenge he gives, and some of the braver ones tell their shifu that he better treat him right or they'll try to take him for themselves (he went particularly hard on them after that, but they had zero regrets — Shen-shibo is a catch after all!)

Meanwhile, Mobei-jun is... frustrated and heartbroken. He can no longer enter Cang Qiong Sect, and he can no longer find Shang Qinghua's qi signature. He doesn't know why — was Shang Qinghua caught? Is he dead? Why else would he just... randomly leave? He's stuck with Mobei-jun for decades, why would he leave now? What was the catalyst? Was he truly so uncomfortable with Mobei-jun's courting? Why wouldn't he just say so!?

The questions leave him angry and frustrated, with no way to get answers. It's only after he enters Luo Binghe's service (an embarrassing loss — would he have done better with Qinghua's advice?) that he finally gets... something of an answer. A potential explanation.

Luo Binghe has no friends in the demon realm, trusts absolutely no one, but he's still a kind person. When he sees that Mobei-jun is frustrated, all it takes is that curly haired boy (a face so similar to Qinghua's) asking for all the questions to come spilling out. Whether it takes hours or minutes, Mobei-jun doesn't know, all he remembers is the lesson from that conversation:

Humans court differently. Constant physical bombardment is known as abuse.

And Mobei-jun is sick.

He hurt Qinghua. He drove away the one man that stuck with him through everything, just because he couldn't be bothered to double check that his courting would be understood. According to Luo Binghe... it was a miracle Shang Qinghua hadn't left sooner. And the worst part? Mobei-jun can't right this wrong. He can't explain himself. Because Cang Qiong has new wards, and Shang Qinghua has figured out how to make himself thoroughly disappear, even though Mobei-jun does receive word when the Peak Lord is spotted during a trade deal. He can't get Qinghua back. There's nothing he can do.

So he stays by Luo Binghe's side. His curly hair, his similar face... these days, Mobei-jun curses himself for not digging into Shang Qinghua's history. For this boy is an orphan, a street rat, and now it would be near impossible to find out his true relation to Shang Qinghua, given that no one knew which humans Tianlang-jun had bed. It doesn't truly matter, whether he is a cousin, brother, or nephew, Mobei-jun will right his wrongs through Shang Qinghua's kin, unable to reach the man himself.

-

When Luo Binghe leaves the Demon Realm, he goes to Huan Hua, and things progress pretty much as they did in canon, with Shen Qingqiu running, absolutely fucking terrified, being force fed blood, and agreeing to be held in the Water Prison to avoid blowback on the sect. Only difference is that Liu Qingge tried to kill LBH, which almost caused an incident with Huan Hua, because no one believed he was a demon. In the water prison, Luo Binghe sees... a ring. He knows his shizun never wore that before, so he asks about it. Not wanting to put Liu Qingge in even more danger, Shen Qingqiu stays silent.

Gongyi Xiao helps Shen Qingqiu escape, and things continue to progress. When Liu Qingge squares up to fight Luo Binghe, he notices him wearing a ring, threaded onto a necklace, and so similar to Shen Qingqiu's. It doesn't take him long to process the fact that his beloved shizun is... already taken.

By Liu fucking Qingge.

He's thoroughly pissed off, he goes to attack, but pauses when he sees his shizun grip Liu-shishu tightly, shaking like a leaf. He looks like he's preparing to take his husband and run. The thought is... off-putting. Because Liu Qingge is the War God of Bai Zhan Peak. Why doesn't Shizun have faith in the man he married?

So he asks.

And Shen Qingqiu doesn't answer.

Liu Qingge still hasn't relaxed, ready to attack at any moment, and Luo Binghe is running out of patience.

"If Shizun finds this demon despicable enough to throw into the Abyss, he should let his husband kill it."

"That's not why he did it."

Liu Qingge's words throw him off balance. He expected the man to be shocked, hearing that his loving husband had done such a thing (maybe cause a rift in their relationship), he expected, maybe, to be attacked for being so disrespectful.

Liu Qingge then explains, because Shen Qingqiu is terrified into silence.

And Luo Binghe is crushed. Shizun threw him into the Abyss... to save him? Shizun was scared for his safety?

And suddenly Luo Binghe feels sick, when he remembers what he's done. How he hurt Shizun, who was too scared to answer. Who just wanted to protect him, only to realize later that he wasn't thinking straight — that his words were twisted in his effort to get Luo Binghe into the safest place possible in that moment: the Endless Abyss. The shizun that believed in his capabilities enough to be afraid that he'd come seeking revenge.

The fight drains out of him, Liu Qingge doesn't relax, but Shen Qingqiu behind him looks just the slightest bit more curious than terrified. Luo Binghe pulls out a note, written from Mobei-jun to Shang Qinghua, and drops it onto the roof. "This disciple apologizes to Shizun. Please ensure this message gets to Shang-shishu." He uses Xin Mo to teleport to a different roof, staying just long enough to see Liu Qingge hand the note to Shen Qingqiu, who collapsed bonelessly into his side.

He goes to the Northern Desert, rather than the Southern Kingdom. He arrives in the sitting area of Mobei-jun's quarters, and plops himself into a seat. He thinks, and thinks, and he's feeling absolutely awful by the time Mobei-jun arrives. He takes one look at Luo Binghe's disheveled state, and takes the seat next to him.

They talk.

Mobei-jun is a surprisingly comforting presence. He'd always listened and offered advice, but Luo Binghe didn't think he'd have the patience for talking him through... whatever the hell this is. Heartbreak? He isn't sure.

It helps though, and Luo Binghe feels much lighter. Mobei-jun had already promised to never darken Cang Qiong's doorstep, to never go anywhere near Shang Qinghua again, after what he'd done... Luo Binghe would just have to do the same. Even if all he wanted was to go back to Qing Jing, to his room in the Bamboo House... but Shizun is married now, there's no way he'd allow Luo Binghe to stay there permanently.

So he just... stays in the Demon Realm. He's an emperor now, surely Shizun wouldn't want him neglecting that duty? And even if he would've liked Shizun's advice... Mobei-jun would have to do. He had experience, and he's been nothing but helpful. Decision made, Luo Binghe embraces his status as the Demon Emperor, and gives it his full attention.

Without him, Shen Qingqiu's trial falls apart, even as the Palace Master accuses Liu Qingge of killing Luo Binghe. There's not enough concrete evidence for Shen Qingqiu's crimes, and the character defenses from the sect and his husband all speak louder than Qiu Haitang's slander. Even if Liu Qingge was in extremely hot water with Huan Hua, they couldn't prove he'd done anything either.

Shen Qingqiu delivers Mobei-jun's note to Mu Qingfang, asking him to be there when Shang Qinghua read it, because who knew what was in it. He agrees, and they read it as soon as possible, to get it over with.

It's an apology, with an explanation of their different cultures and a promise to never bother him again. It's a promise to right his wrongs through Luo Binghe, who he assumes to be related to Shang Qinghua through the boy's mother. It's short and blunt, and Shang Qinghua is... conflicted. He loves Mu Qingfang, and honestly, couldn't even dream of a life without him, but... Mobei-jun was his dream man. Thinking like that... perhaps it was for the best that they didn't end up together. The reality could never live up to the expectation.

More importantly, is him remembering his half-sister in this life: Xi-jie. Who had suddenly cut contact with him completely, and who he'd never managed to track down afterwards, not having known her full name. Shang Qinghua is crushed, to realize the protagonist was that close to being given a better life. Had Su Xiyan managed to contact him at any point, he would've taken her son in in a heartbeat. Mu Qingfang consoles him, and they decide, jointly, that it was for the best if he didn't pursue that relationship. Not with Mobei-jun promising to stick by the boy, and not with the way he'd treated Shen Qingqiu.

And everyone just... moves on with their lives.

Mu Qingfang and Shang Qinghua are happy together; they have three kids that get absolutely spoiled by their disciples, and they take care of each other, ensuring neither overworks too severely. Liu Qingge and Shen Qingqiu, without the threat of Binghe's return hanging over them, relax more. They enjoy peaceful days with the Qing Jing disciples, they have fun jointly beating up the Bai Zhan disciples and teaching them new moves, and their hunts aren't nearly as battle-focused as they were before, giving Shen Qingqiu a chance to study the beasts rather than immediately going to fight them.

Luo Binghe and Mobei-jun are rarely apart and treat each other as equals in all things. They value the other's advice when implementing policies, and they will each jump to the other's defense, whether it be physically or through words. It surprises absolutely no one when their affair is found out — at first a convenient way to control Xin Mo, eventually morphing into a proper relationship. They're the rulers of the demon realm, they need not abide by the rules, but... Luo Binghe enjoys planning the wedding, and Mobei-jun can't deny him that, even if it meant dealing with the paperwork of technically merging the two kingdoms but also not. Their broken hearts have long been mended by each other, and it's no surprise when they have six children, close-knit and loving, like the family they wished they'd had sooner.

-

Tianlang-jun rotted away, despite Zhuzhi-lang's best efforts. His last act was to give Zhuzhi-lang enough energy to sustain his human form indefinitely. He is purposeless, and alone, and he sits beside his uncle's corpse for far longer than he should have. There's nothing left for him, not with his uncle gone.

So he exits the cave, and he sits under a tree, out in the open. He is very clearly a demon within Huan Hua territory, so it wouldn't take long for a cultivator to stumble upon him and put him out of his misery. Sure enough, in the middle of his patrol, Gongyi Xiao sees a snake demon just... sitting there. He doesn't look hostile, nor does he look like he's going to move.

He also just... looks kinda pathetic.

So, Gongyi Xiao makes a decision. He can't, in good conscience, leave it there. If he does, and it attacks someone, that's his fault. He also can't just kill it if it's not even doing anything. So he decides to... initiate conversation.

It takes a while for Zhuzhi-lang to bother properly responding, but once he does, they get along quite well. He shares stories about his and his uncle's journies through the human realm, reminiscing as he starts to process his grief. Gongyi Xiao decides, maybe this demon isn't that bad actually, and before they know it, it's sun down and Gongyi Xiao is very late.

They meet daily, with Gongyi Xiao taking on more patrols than usual to make sure his demon is doing alright. Eventually, though, pieces of Zhuzhi-lang's story start to... click. They conflict with things he's been told by his shizun. Maybe Zhuzhi-lang is misremembering in his grief, but... he's concerned enough to start investigating on his own.

He finds a lot of dirt on the Old Palace Master, most of it completely unrelated to Su Xiyan, which is what he was actually trying to investigate. Eventually, he grows so disgusted with the sheer amount of crimes the old man has committed that he decides to just... start a coup. He's well-liked, so it's easy enough to get people on his side — it's even easier when he starts spreading rumors and has all of the man's misdeeds printed into a fairly popular book (more than a few publishing houses were burned down because of it, oops). He didn't... intend to replace the old man, but that's what happened and, hey, now he can bring his demon home and no one can fight him over it, yes sect leaders, he's perfectly sane, thank you.

Zhuzhi-lang learns that he's just as attracted to competence and beauty as Tianlang-jun, he just prefers his with a side of kindness rather than tsundere. He also finds it incredibly funny that everyone just... pointedly ignores his presence. A demon he may be, but their sect leader wanted him there, so there he would stay. The whole scenario brings to mind the forbidden romances his uncle loved to read about. As he settles in, watching Gongyi Xiao overhaul Huan Hua Palace and all its greedy rules, he thinks his uncle would want to see how this story ends.

-

AND THAT'S IT! My wrists hurt and i accidentally posted before it was done, lmao, but yeah. Feel free to write this, I feel like I'd start it and never finish lol