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missmeinyourbones · 9 months ago

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AURORA BOREALIS GREEN

cw: non sorcerer au, college au, enemies to lovers (?) neighbors to lovers, miscommunication trope if you squint (I AM SORRY), reader e to as she/her once, reader wears heels, some light sexual content (dry humping nation rise)

wc: 10k+

There's something wrong with your upstairs neighbors.

You've never met them, not face to face at least, but between the times you've hit your ceiling with the end of your broom and the audacity they have to continue to be as rowdy as they are, something isn't right with them. You're sure of it.

And you're not naive to the fact that your apartment building is filled with young people, either currently in college or just freshly graduated. You're no prude to the dulled sound of late-night party playlists or squeaky bed frames muffled by plaster.

But your neighbors aren't guilty of these typical noise complaints. No, they're borderline much worse.

The majority of their crimes take place in the day, believe it or not, which makes it all the more frustrating when you actually have shit to do. When it's not boyish yells of victory and frustration, it's footsteps that sound like a herd of elephants (how many people can live in an apartment floor plan for two?). They're relentless upstairs neighbors to have, and though you couldn't pick their faces out of a crowd if you tried, you're sure their lack of etiquette spans across other areas of their lives.

The tiny clock at the top of your computer blinks a mocking 11:38 AM as you try to study through the sounds of excited stomping and rowdy gibberish.

You don't know what makes today so different, whether it's the burnt coffee beans you can taste lingering in your usual order from the cafe across the street or the organic chemistry study guide practically laughing at you as you review your hieroglyphic notes for tomorrow's test.

Whatever is in the water has you feeling braver than usual, and instead of reaching for the conveniently placed broom in the corner of your kitchen, you find yourself stomping your way down the hall and up the staircase.

The sixth floor is identical to the fifth — you don't know why it wouldn't be, but you've never put much thought into it — so it's no surprise that your feet find no trouble in naturally bringing you to a door equivalent to yours just a floor below.

Your knuckles wrap against the wood with three unfriendly knocks, and the joyous buzzing from inside the apartment instantly comes to a lull. You think you hear panicked whispers from the other side, almost as if the culprits are debating on answering or not. You take their choice away when you knock three more times.

After a moment, you hear the clicking of the lock and the fiddling of the doorknob. You take a deep breath to ground yourself, put on your best customer service voice, and prepare to calmly tell these entitled frat boys to shut the fuck up when—

You're ironically met with the prettiest green eyes you think you've ever seen.

A tall brunette stands before you, about your age, and wearing a look that's both confused and embarrassed. Your eyes quickly flicker across his face in the span of mere seconds, logical thoughts going out the window and now replaced with amazement at how stupidly attractive he is.

Though you knocked on his door, he speaks first.

"Hi...?" He clears his throat, looking behind you in the hallway, almost as if you have the wrong room.

His confusion annoys you, and you suddenly remember why you're here in the first place.

"Look, I really don't wanna be a bitch," you sigh, rubbing the bridge of your nose, "but what could you possibly be doing in this apartment that sounds like an actual full-out brawl on a Wednesday morning?"

Obliviously handsome neighbor's face goes a bit pink and his jaw slacks as he stutters, looking for either a shitty excuse or a polite explanation of the truth.

He opens the door a bit more, gesturing to the living room behind him. You spare a glance to where another guilty suspect stares back at you with big brown eyes and a smirk. There's some video game paused on the screen, ridden with animated blood and a scoped weapon's perspective.

Your attention is brought back to the one holding the door when he mumbles, "I think it's our game."

A bit dumbfounded at his lame answer, you blankly stare at him.

"Your... game?"

Brown Eyes yells from the couch, "Call of Duty!"

As if on instinct, Green Eyes closes the door a bit, shielding you from his roommate and shaking his head in exasperation. He clears his throat awkwardly, "Sorry, are you—?"

You're suddenly hyperaware of the fact that you've been staring at how long his fucking eyelashes are. He's anything but sore on the eyes, but again, you try to remind yourself that he and his roommate make your life difficult at least five out of seven days of the week.

"I live below you," you huff behind a swallow, "and you really don't make it easy."

He nods dumbly, finally realizing the connection behind your visit. "Oh, right."

You scoff and nod your head. For someone as pretty as him, he's a bit thick in the head.

Biting your cheek, you begin to walk away from the door without completely ending the conversation. As you're turning to leave, he hears you call out from down the corridor.

"If you could just — not play video games like eleven-year-old boys," your tone is filled with annoyance, "that'd be great."

You don't need to turn around to know that the stranger at the door is apologetic and nodding in compliance. Before he can fully shut the door, you hear a quip from his counterpart on the couch.

"She told you, bro."

As the door shuts, you hear the muffled hiss from the other. "You're the one making noise, dipshi—"

…..

Your threatening conversation must have worked to some degree, because it's been almost two days without any sort of annoyance from your upstairs neighbors. You think you almost take it for granted, the way you can study without headphones and enjoy a movie in the living room rather than in your bed with the speaker on high.

The walk back from your class is usually about twenty minutes, but it's closer to fifteen today as you're quicker when it comes to getting out of the cold.

Your chemistry test went alright — maybe not your best work but okay enough that you passed. And that's all you care about as you make your way back to your apartment, intending to crash in your bed and not move for the next few hours.

The winter air leaves a chill up your spine as you swipe into your building and press the elevator button. Your nose runs a bit from the cold as it sits against your knit scarf. Bag on your arm and half-consumed coffee, you can't wait to enjoy a day or two without thinking about covalent bonds and isomers.

You close your eyes and release a sigh as the elevator door begins to close, but before it gets the chance to do so successfully, quick footsteps and a hand jammed between the closing space prompt the doors to reopen.

Not really paying attention to the stranger joining your 30-second elevator ride, you simply step to the side to make more room for them.

It's not until they make eye contact with you that you realize it's your neighbor, the same one you'd borderline terrorized a few days ago for being irritating.

He's out of breath from catching the lift last minute, lungs still adjusting from the crisp air from outside. His jacket is zipped all the way up to his collar and his hair pokes out in spiky tuffs from beneath his hat.

He mumbles out a weak "sorry" before his eyes find the floor and the rickety door shuts, leaving the two of you alone in the suddenly very small space.

You'd cuss beneath your breath if you weren't close enough for him to hear it.

What's the acceptable thing to do in this scenario? You mentally weigh out your options. Sit in an awkward silence? Introduce yourself as if your encounter never even happened? Address the fact that you banged on his door a few days ago and insulted him as a first impression?

You choose the silence. If anything, you silently pray that behind your winter apparel and the lack of eye contact, he doesn't even recognize you.

But that thought goes to shit when you see that he's already pressed the fifth-floor button for you.

You swear the ride to your floor has never been this slow. Seconds feel like hours as you watch the digital number rise like paint drying on a wall. The elevator almost laughs at you as it stops on the third floor and opens itself to find no one there; you curse whoever decided to press the button before changing their mind and taking the stairs.

After what seems like forever, your floor finally flashes on the pixelated screen, and as you feel the elevator come to a stop—

The doors don't open.

You think it's just your dramatic prolonged sense of time until it's been about ten seconds and still, nothing. Just the two of you in a stopped elevator with doors that won't unlock.

You've never been one to believe in karma, but you can't help but think this is the universe punishing you for standing up for yourself. You are quite literally on your floor, a mere sliding door away from the embarrassing situation you got yourself in, but still, nothing happens.

He presses the button meant to prompt open the doors a few times with slight force.

"It does this, sometimes," he weakly coughs out in an attempt to make conversation. "It's uh—a shitty building."

You try pressing the button for yourself, "It's never done this for me."

Green Eyes sighs, slouching against his side of the wall and letting his head fall to rest on his shoulder, "Consider yourself lucky."

You huff, giving up on the button and turning to face him.

Your eyes didn't deceive you the first time you saw him — he is just as pretty as you'd initially thought. Not a great conversationalist, but nice to look at. He avoids eye contact until you speak up.

"It's happened to you before?" you gesture to the doors that won't open.

He catches your eye before nodding defeatedly, "This is the fourth time."

You can't help but bitterly laugh at the situation you're in.

"Maybe it's just you, then," you joke, looking up at the digital five mocking you in the corner.

Though you don't catch it, his eyes soften a bit as they fall on you. The corner of his mouth slightly quirks up when he chimes, "Could be."

You let yourself count another ten seconds before tossing your hands by your sides in aggravation and sighing, "So, what now? Hit the help button or—"

And like a blessing, or maybe a curse, you can't decide, the elevator chimes, signaling its arrival. The doors open swiftly as if there was nothing wrong with them in the first place, revealing your destination floor to you.

You whip your head to your upstairs neighbor, confused and almost asking for his permission to exit the elevator. You don't know why you do so, and you don't know why you only depart after he nods his head and waves his hand for you to continue.

Next time you leave your apartment, you find yourself taking the stairs to be safe.

…..

Your peaceful living is unsurprisingly short-lived. After a few enjoyable days, you'd given your neighbors too much credit as they now return to their usual noisiness. You find yourself rapping on their door once again.

This time, Brown Eyes answers.

Even before opening his mouth, he's instantly friendlier than his counterpart based on body language alone, completely opening the door all the way wide and leaning against the frame in his palm.

He's taller than you, but not as tall as the former who greeted you last time. With light rose-colored hair, he's all smiles and giggles. You'd think he were high if you could smell anything on him.

Oh, he's also shirtless.

"Hey, it's our friend again," he smiles at you before craning his neck backward, and you can make an educated guess on who exactly he's talking to.

You're quick to steer clear, "We aren't friends."

He laughs at your words, completely unfazed by the unwelcoming attitude. He casually sips on an energy drink that looks borderline lethal when he asks, "Were we being loud? You comin' to yell at us again?"

His lack of care for the situation surprisingly doesn't rub you the wrong way. Inconvenient? Yes, but not necessarily malicious, from what you can tell.

"I wouldn't be here for any other reason."

"Sorry," he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. "We don't really have inside voices around here."

You can't help but roll your eyes at the childish excuse. "You should find some."

"Will do," he nods like a child being reprimanded in class, "sorry again."

He salutes you with a metal can in his left hand. Before you can turn your back to him and towards the elevator, you hear the same voice call out to you.

"Hey—!"

You stop midstride, slowly turning around to face the door again. He stands in the same position, leaning against the door frame as he points out the obvious.

"We didn't get your name last time."

You blink at him a few times, not caring enough to connect the dots and extend the nicety, but the friendly one persists. He places a palm on his (bare) chest as he gestures to himself, "I'm Itadori."

You nod with raised brows, "And I'm calling our landlord if you piss me off again."

You hear a soft chuckle from the inside of the apartment. The two of you turn at the sound of the noise, where Green Eyes hides his smile behind the strings of his sweatshirt and quickly returns his attention to his phone.

Itadori, apparently, looks back at you and nods to his friend, "That's Fushiguro."

You breathe out your own name and quickly make your way back towards your apartment. On the ride down to your floor, you find yourself repeating the name — Fushiguro. It tastes weird on your lips, and you hate the way you don't hate it.

..…

His name is Megumi.

You learn this when a letter shows up at your door addressed to a Fushiguro Megumi. Mail mix-ups are common in the apartment complex, but you can't help but laugh at the coincidence - his name but your apartment number clearly displayed in black ink.

You examine the piece of paper closely. The cream-colored envelope covered in poorly drawn hearts and tacky puppy stickers placed randomly across its front found itself wedged into your door's mailbox. Flipping it over, the return address is a mere surname of Gojo underlined with a smiley face.

A love letter, you realize. You're not sure why the shift in narrative suddenly fills your stomach with an uneasy weight of disappointment.

You're going out anyways, you tell yourself as you slip on your scarf and shimmy into your shoes. Between stopping at the grocery store for a few small things and dropping off overdue assignments at your professor's office, it's not like you're going out of your way to return the letter to its intended recipient. You're doing the right thing, being a good samaritan, your mind repeats.

The single flight up the stairs is easy enough and a good excuse for exercise. Approaching the door that mimics your own floor below, the same one you've already visited two times too many, you feel weirdly nervous. Just slide it beneath his door and call it a day.

As you bend to slip the paper beneath the door, it swings open.

You quickly stand up straight and back away from the opening, as the shadow in your peripheral startles from your presence and does the same.

"Shit, sorry—"

Looking up, you lock eyes with the one and only whose letter lies in your hand. Fuck.

He hesitates a bit when he realizes it's you, doing a double take and immediately assuming he's in trouble again.

"We—" Megumi, you now know him to be, turns his back to you, quickly surveying his empty apartment to show you, "aren't playing? Yuuji's not even home, so—”

You're not sure why you're the slightest bit hurt by his more than reasonable accusation. The only two times you've been at his door were to reprimand him, so of course he's not wrong to assume this time was no different. Still, it has you feeling guilty as you dryly swallow and raise your arm.

"I was sticking this under your door," you sigh, handing him the ridiculous-looking envelope. "Got sent to my place accidentally."

His eyes flicker to your extended hand, and when he sees the writing on the envelope between your fingers, his body instantly goes hot with embarrassment.

"Of course it did," he groans beneath his breath, almost annoyed.

A bit abruptly, he grabs the letter from you and places his hand behind his back, telling himself that if it's out of sight, you'll forget it ever happened entirely.

His uneasiness and slight frustration have you taking a small step back as he snatches the envelope. He senses your hesitation and immediately mourns how he acted out of instinct, sighing and slowly moving the letter from behind him to rest by his side.

He softens and clears his scratchy throat, something you've come to notice he does a lot. "Thanks."

Feeling a bit brave, you raise your eyebrows, amused at his odd behavior. Your words are taunting yet friendly when you nod to the note at his arm.

"You should probably tell your girlfriend that you're in #603, not #503."

Megumi's face is often stoic and downturned, aside from a slight pull of a smile that can rarely be seen on occasion. But at these words, you watch in regret as Megumi's expression mimics one of disgust mixed with pure mortification.

"Oh, this—" his eyes fall to the envelope he thinks might be the cause of his death, "this isn't from a girlfriend. It's actually a lot worse than that."

"Worse?" you push.

"It's... from a family friend," he weakly reveals. "Kinda like a dad, I guess."

You find yourself smiling at the meek yet sweet confession, nodding along and biting back a good-hearted laugh at his timidness.

"Right, I just assumed with the hearts and the cute stickers that—" you trail off, gesturing to the letter that clearly presents itself as something else.

He laughs a bit humorlessly and itches the back of his neck shyly.

"That would make a lot more sense and be a lot less humiliating, yeah."

You take a moment to take in his shyness. He's harmless, you decide at that very moment. You make a mental note to remind yourself to weigh the sides of the subject at hand.

Cons: awkward, obvlvious, bad neighbor, a tad unfriendly at times

Pros: annoyingly attractive, nice enough in actual conversation, respectful in passing, girlfriend-less

You shake those points from your head, taking a breath and slowly moving towards the elevator. "It could've been worse. The stickers could've been puppies and kittens," you tease.

You expect that to be all, because that's all it should be, right? An awkward yet friendly coincidence between two strangers who got off on the wrong foot. You're locked in on entering the elevator when you hear his voice from behind you.

"Sorry—" he shortly blurts out.

You turn, expecting him to elaborate on the outburst. The look on his face almost reads as if he wasn't planning to until seeing your reaction, where he explains, "That we're loud sometimes. I really do try to tell Yuuji to shut up, but he's just... a lot."

You don't know why your heart swells at the apology.

"It's fine," you nod softly. Turning your back, you call out to him as you enter the elevator. "You've actually been pretty tolerable this week, but don't let that go to your head."

As the elevator closes, you see Megumi smile before returning inside and closing his door. This time, you don't stop the thoughts that flow through your head.

Pro: cute

.….

You suppose it was only a matter of time before the tables you'd set managed to turn on you, but you just didn't expect it so soon. Because the next time you run into your neighbors, it's them knocking on your door for a change.

The sharp winter wind shakes the sides of your building with rage — the kind that results in creaky panels and systems outages in certain sectors of your building.

After waking to take a shower early this morning and being greeted with piercing cold water that refused to warm up, no matter how long you ran the faucet, you knew today would be a long one.

Clad in layers of fuzzy socks and bulky hoodies, you rise from the couch to answer the banging outside. After opening the door to see who's on the other side, it takes less than a second for the visitor to make himself at home.

"You out of hot water, too?" Yuuji casually brushes past you, walking into your home and stopping in the center of the living room. He looks around the space in awe — as if his own place just a singular level above doesn't mimic the exact same floor plan.

Still in the hallway but keeping an eye on his friend's questionable behavior, Megumi waits in the hallway. He's on the phone with someone, his cell wedged between his elbow and ear. When he begins asking about the building's backup generator, you mentally thank him for being the only proactive one here.

You sigh and turn to Yuuji, who's admiring your wall art and the fact that you have an actual television stand, "I'm out of heat in general."

"Damn," he blurts out without a thought, "that sucks."

You overhear Megumi wrapping up his conversation in the background when your lips are pulled downward in confusion.

"Are you guys not?"

"Oh no, we are," Yuuji continues admiring your apartment with a child-like curiosity, "but we have a space heater that's doing the job for now. How are you so good at decorating?"

You ignore his question, turning to Megumi who now stands on the threshold of your doorway. He makes a face, one of tight lips and sympathy, almost as if he's wordlessly apologizing for both the unfortunate scenario and his roommate's lack of social etiquette.

You further wrap yourself in your own little warmth, crossing your arms inwards. "That's actually really smart of you guys," you manage to croak out.

"You can come up and chill if you want," Yuuji mindlessly offers, eyes scanning over the magnets on your fridge. He can't stop himself from fiddling with a cherry-shaped one that holds up a baby picture of you from kindergarten.

The shock on your face must be obvious because you swear you hear Megumi swallow a chuckle at your reaction.

"You came down here… to ask me to chill?" Your voice octaves up towards the end, almost as if repeating the offer will reveal itself to be a track or joke.

While Yuuji nods eagerly, you can hear Megumi muttering from behind the neckline of his sweatshirt.

"Sue us for extending a neighborly olive branch."

As Yuuji continues to outwardly snoop around your kitchen, his eyes land on your oven-top clock and he whines.

"I actually have class in twenty and need to catch the shuttle to campus, but you're welcome to not freeze to death with Fushiguro, if you want."

You check your phone, confirming the time when you question, "Didn't the last shuttle of the hour leave already?"

You watch the gears turn in Itadori's mind for a second before he smacks a palm to his head, quickly brushing past you and out the door.

"Fuck me, see you guys later then—" he hurries, the only sound following him being the swishing of his winter coat and clunky booted footsteps jostling down the stairs.

And with Megumi still standing in your doorway and the sound of the main staircase gate slamming behind Yuuji's path, you could hear a pin drop between the two of you if it weren't for the howling wind outside (which you find yourself suddenly grateful for rather than loathing it).

Megumi shifts his weight on the balls of his feet as he stands. He clears his throat in a way he hopes is subtle.

"You can still come up," he gestures to the hallway with a nod of his head, before cautiously adding, "if you want."

Instinctively, you feel your body curl further in on itself. Megumi must notice it too, as his eyes quickly flicker to your raw hands tucked beneath your arms.

"It's not that bad in here," you weakly dismiss.

He deadpans, "I can almost see your breath."

A sigh leaves your chilled body and you look up at Megumi. Now it's your turn to silently communicate with him — eyebrows raising and wavering between your options, you chew on your cheek in thought.

"You don't have to," he softly adds, hands burrowing themselves in the pocket of his hoodie. "Just wanted to see if you needed anything, I guess."

"What did the landlord say?" your words are muffled from your teeth in your cheek.

Megumi's eyes light up a bit before they find his scuffed Converse again.

"He's sending his guys over, but it's gonna take an hour, at least."

After another minute that feels like twenty, you softly speak up.

"…Do you really have a space heater?"

As he fights off a smile, Megumi gently nods.

.….

You'll admit, the apartment looks better than you'd imagined. Not that your standards weren't too high to begin with, but you're pleasantly surprised.

Megumi unlocks the front door, gesturing for you to enter as he slowly closes it behind him, shivering a bit from the draft weaving through the hallway.

It's clean, relatively. The design of the rooms and open areas are identical to your layout below, but between the decor (or lack thereof) and the overhanging presence of the space, it feels so different.

Their television, the one you know to be responsible for their rowdiness, balances on what looks to be a bedside table. Far too small for the proportions of the TV but just enough to carry the width of the screen's base, it looks silly but does the job.

"You can just…" Megumi waves his hand to the living room, awkwardly trailing off as he insists. "Sit. Wherever you want."

Your seating choices include a felt futon in scrappy condition, two lopsided beanbags, and a busted recliner. You take your chances with the futon.

Surveying the apartment, it's not terrible — truthfully, you'd been expecting worse from college guys. You give them props; aside from a few half-drank plastic water bottles and withering plants on their window sill, there's nothing that outwardly goes against any health violations or suitable living standards. No empty beer cans or pizza boxes, no trashy flags or posters hung on the walls. It's decent.

And the space heater working overtime in the corner outlet is a major plus. Feeling the angle of its warmth blasting on your legs, you exhale at the heat and rub your fuzzy slippers together on instinct.

"Do you want anything?" Megumi stands a few feet away, nervous for someone in the comfort of his own home, "Water or a drink, or something?"

It's sweet how respectful he's being — you think back to whoever sent him that letter, imagining they raised him right.

You shake your head curtly, "I don't take drinks from strange men."

His face drops instantly.

"Oh—right," he swallows harshly, fumbling with his sparse words. "I didn't mean it like that or anything, but that makes sense. I just meant—”

The stoic expression you were attempting to upkeep fails and you can't fight off the smile that pulls at your cheeks. Exhaling a laugh and looking over at him, you apologize, "I'm just kidding, Megumi."

He feels his stomach instantly solidify like cement at your words — Megumi. He doesn't recall you ever referring to him by any name, let alone his first. He feels a wandering heat itching up his neck when he coughs up a chuckle.

He shakes his head, sitting on the opposite end of the futon and leaving the middle cushion between the two of you unoccupied.

"Fuck off," he scratches his jaw to busy his shaky hands. In doing so, you catch a glimpse of a few silver rings wrapping around his knuckles.

As the warmth of the space heater (solely the space heater, you remind yourself) gradually dissolves the chill that's been stuck up your spine for the last few hours, you slightly settle further into your seat.

"So this is the scene of the crime, huh?" you motion to the gaming console propped up on the floor beside the makeshift television stand.

Megumi amuses an exhale through his nose and nods along, "Yeah. I mean, you've kinda seen it from the hallway before."

"Yeah, but this is the real thing, first-person point of view. It's just missing me downstairs hitting the ceiling with my broom twenty times."

The next few minutes are stolen by a whole lot of small talk that holds no weight. Beginning to panic at how the hell you're gonna make it through this entire hour with little to talk about, your eyes fall on the television once more.

"So," you curl into the futon. "Show me something worth screaming over."

Without warning, Megumi chokes on his own saliva as he swallows.

"Huh?"

"A game," you quickly correct, not realizing how your words sounded and nodding to the television before you. "I meant, show me a game that justifies how loud you two get."

The game is fine, nothing revolutionary but admit that you could see how it could be entertaining for some. A standard battle royal concept, Megumi hands you his second controller and walks you through the instructions on how to play.

You mimic the way his fingers hold the controller, how they flex and bend to hit certain buttons for special uses. Throughout the tutorial of trial and error, the two of you naturally close the gap of the middle cushion, now much closer as you copy his movements and use his hands for reference. He even goes as far as reaching over to point out certain buttons to you, skimming your fingers hesitantly as he pulls away.

It's safe to say you don't win, don't even come close, but he's a good sport all the same. He laughs when you're hit by enemies and revives you with little to no mocking. He whispers an encouraging "there you go" whenever you manage to land a hit on someone, followed by an "I got you" when he's covering for your character. It's fun — you freeze a bit when you realize that you like spending time with him, even doing the very thing that caused this entire debacle in the first place.

You don't realize how much time has passed until Megumi's phone vibrates from the coffee table. His eyes quickly glance over the unsaved number, almost as if recognizes the contact and is debating on answering or not.

Your eyes narrow teasingly when you taunt, "You gonna take that?"

Snapped out of his thoughts, Megumi nods, swipes his screen, and holds his phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

The conversation is short, maybe thirty seconds in total. Though you can't make out any specific words, you can hear the rumbling of another deep voice on the other end of the call. Megumi listens half-heartedly, nodding along and chiming in here and there to acknowledge the caller.

"Hey, yeah. That was me. Right, okay. Okay, nice. Thanks, appreciate it."

The call ends and Megumi puts his phone down on the coffee table once more. You swear you can hear a small sense of disappointment in his voice when he breathes.

"That was the maintenance guy," he breathes softly. "Heat's back on."

You feel your own body getting sour with misfortune. Why are you so bitter about the thought of going back downstairs to your own apartment?

Nodding at his words, you slowly stand and do your best to sound relieved. "Thank god," you joke, "I was beginning to think I might have to sleep on this gross futon."

Megumi sneers, rolling his eyes and rising to walk you to the door. Before you step into the hallway, you turn to face him.

"Thanks," your tone is spineless, one he's unable to recognize from you before you elaborate, "for letting me leech off of your heat."

"No problem," he shoots you a genuine look. "Consider it reparations for all of the times we've annoyed you."

"All of the times?" you shoot him a harmless glare.

Unlike most who cower and scowl at your sarcastic quips, Megumi seems to bloom beneath your daggered attempts at pushing him away.

"Fine," he exaggerates a groan, "maybe not all. But it's a start, right?"

A start. The insinuation tickles all air out of your lungs like a feather. Though you pretend to be annoyed and kiss your teeth at his words, you nod all the same.

Leaving his door, Megumi seems lighter than he did when you first entered.

"Sorry you just kinda watched me play video games for almost two hours," he calls out to you as you depart, hands returning to his pockets.

"Don't be," you honestly tell him as your head cranes back to look at him. "It was nice to be up here for reasons other than wanting to strangle you."

.….

A day and a half later when the universe has realigned itself and it's you knocking on their door again, they half expect you to be followed by your stuffy landlord holding an eviction notice.

Much to their surprise, you're alone, rather skittish — and holding a tupperware container of… cookies?

It's Megumi who opens the door initially, but Yuuji is quick to squeeze his way into the opening at the sight of your familiar face and mysterious delivery in hand.

"Ooooooh, what are these?" he inquires, unashamed as he pokes his nose into your space in an attempt to get a better look at the baked goods.

Pulling a bit away from his antics, you swallow back any potential wisecracks.

"Thank you for being neighborly and not letting me die of hypothermia cookies," you keep your voice neutral.

"Are they poisoned?" Megumi pipes in.

You shoot him a scowl, one he's learned is innocent enough, and his eyes crinkle in amusement.

"Shit, can't remember if I added vanilla or vitriol?" your head cocks to the side in faux thought.

Your eyes flicker to him as he chews on his cheek in a half-assed attempt to cover up his entertainment at your quickness.

Yuuji, focused on nothing but having a minimum of five cookies for good measure, snatches the container from your hands and carries it to the kitchen counter.

He's already opening the dish and helping himself as he chews, "I don't even know what that is, so I'm gonna take my chances."

Megumi gives a quick thank you for the cookies, and Yuuji chimes in behind a satiated mouth and crumby lips. You brush off their graces, reminding them it's just you returning the favor for the heating situation.

Just as you're about to see yourself out of their entryway, you hear an authentic offer from the kitchen.

"Hey," Yuuji wipes his lips with the back of his hand, and something about it feels oddly youthful to you, "wanna come over this weekend?"

You look at the two of them for a moment, waiting to see if there's a punchline to come, before carefully treading, "Why?"

"We're havin' some friends over," Yuuji reveals casually before going to take another large bite, "and I guess you're funny enough to hang out with us."

The hesitation in your response must be more apparent than you think because he's quick to chuckle and elaborate on the offer.

"It's not an orgy," he teases at your stiffness before grabbing at another cookie and shrugging. "We get take out, chill, drink a little, kick ass in Mario Kart."

You nod as you listen to his words. He's kind, they both are, and you know the offer to be a genuine one. Still, the situation makes your stomach ache with uncertainty at the thought of mingling with strangers for the sake of your mere — acquaintances? Neighbors? Friends?

"As fun as that sounds," you breathe, clearly trying but failing to convince them of your apologetic tone, "I don't really wanna intrude on you and your friends.

"It's not intruding if you're invited," Megumi interjects for the first time in the conversation.

Looking at where he stands against the counter, his eyes are on you. They're careful, but hopeful in a gentle kind of way. He wants you to say yes — but he'd rather swallow a knife than his own pride and admit it himself.

Your words are unconvincing when you sigh, "Not really in the hangout mood. Next time, okay?"

The two men deflate a bit, one more dramatic and obvious than the other, but they nod at your rejection. Wiping his hands off on his shorts, Yuuji walks you to the door, thanking you again for the sweets and joking about you getting home safe on your long journey back downstairs.

You can't help but giggle at his theatrics, insisting that, "If you need me this weekend, I'll be rotting away on my couch with a bottle of wine and a week's worth of Love Island to catch up on."

Yuuji laughs wholeheartedly, "Your loss, see ya."

Megumi weakly waves as his best friend swings the door shut. Once closed, Yuuji turns to him with a cheeky smile he knows can mean nothing good.

Megumi grimaces at his enthusiasm, "What?"

Yuuji nods to the door, a toothy grin spreading across his face. "Think I'm gonna ask her out."

Megumi's quick to react poorly.

"What?" he borderline knocks over the water bottle next to him on the counter. He catches it, embarrassed by his obvious care for the situation as he tries to cover it up with a nonchalant scoff, "Why?"

Yuuji stares at him for a minute in disbelief before stating what he believes to be the obvious.

"'Cause she's hot and yells at us all the time?"

Megumi scoffs in distaste again. He fiddles with the rings on his right hand, pretending to be careless about a situation he's anything but careful about.

Sensing his roommate's off response, Itadori's quick to add. "Unless you wanna call dibs before I do?"

"Dibs?" Megumi groans.

"Yeah, like claiming—"

"I know what dibs means," he interrupts before Yuuji can dig his own grave any further. He slumps into the palm of his hand as his elbow rests atop the kitchen counter, "I just think that's shitty."

Yuuji, knowing Megumi well enough to sense that he's hit a sour spot, nods and backs off. He joins him at the counter again, oblivious as he grabs another cookie to chomp on. With cautious eyes and a mouth filled with chocolate, he speaks up.

"…So you don't wanna call dibs?"

.….

It's Saturday, almost Sunday, according to the cat clock on your wall.

You'd kept your word. Beneath a few blankets and practically one with your couch cushions, you're spending your weekend doing exactly what you'd anticipated.

The television continues to play the stream of episodes you're catching up on. With your second glass of red in hand, you tune in and out of the segments when the good parts catch your attention. It feels good to relax, to do nothing and to be nothing behind tipsy and fatigued eyes.

A sudden knock on your door puts a minor wedge in your plans. Sitting up with a groan, you whimper beneath your breath but move to answer it regardless.

Maybe you forgot to tip your delivery driver when he dropped off your takeout a few hours ago and he's back for revenge. Maybe it's your drunk friends, showing up to ruin your night and attempting to persuade you to join them on their foolish escapades. Maybe it's someone with the wrong address.

Locking eyes with the visitor at your door, it's Megumi. Maybe you're drunker than you thought.

His delicate eyes match yours when he scarcely smiles, "Hi."

Your eyes go to the items in his hands — a few beer bottles, a bag of chocolate-covered pretzels, and a deck of cards.

Giggling to yourself, you stare at him, "I think you got off a floor too early."

Megumi laughs, and when you're able to get a good look at him, you can tell he's a bit tipsy, too. His shoulders aren't as tense as they usually are, he's still broad, but a lot looser now. His eyes are glossed over with a haze you're sure yours mimic. He scratches his nose awkwardly before opening his mouth.

"I—" he cuts himself off, eyes darting to the items in his arms before returning to you, "wanted to see you."

"Me?" you're unable to stop yourself from nearly gawking.

He laughs again, not obnoxiously but easy and natural. "Yes, you. Does someone else live here?"

"Don't you have plans with your friends?" you question, still not letting him inside.

"They're upstairs," he nods, "and no, I'm not here to force you to come up."

At his words, he can see your visible relief. Opening the door fully and letting him come inside, you relish in reassurance, "Good, I really didn't wanna be fake nice right now."

A smile pulls at the corners of his mouth as he sets his belongings on your coffee table. "Fake nice?" he prompts.

"I mean, not that it's fake, it's just like—customer servicey. Y'know? Being kind to people in a way that's not ingenuine but—"

"Exhausting?" he finishes for you, and he's weirdly more talkative with a bit of alcohol in his veins. "Yeah, I feel that."

You sprawl onto your couch and he takes the seat next to you but refrains from leaning back as far. He watches you graze on your glass of wine, your legs crossed childishly as you gaze up at him.

"Are you like that with me?" he puts on a brave face. "Fake nice?"

He releases a breath he didn't even know he was holding when you shake your head. After a hearty sip from your drink, you talk dramatically with your hands.

"Am I even real nice to you? I've kinda been a bitch since the day I banged on your door."

Megumi shakes his head as he laughs, which in return allows you to do the same. He relaxes a bit further into the warmth of your cushions, lolling his head to look at you as he opens himself a beer.

"I don't think so," he shrugs. "You're not wrong for complaining about us being understandably annoying."

Things lighten up as time passes. The night gets a bit blurry but it's fun, carefree. The two of you sit on your tiny couch, passing a bag of pretzels back and forth, and playing stupid card games that bring out your competitive sides and don't have real rules.

Minutes bleed into hours and you're not sure what time it is when it's late enough for Megumi to start yawning. Enjoying a comfortable silence between the two of you, his voice is temperate when he asks.

"Why didn't you want to hang out with us?"

He almost seems mournful, and a part of you feels guilty as his eyes blink heavily down on you. You exhale, readjusting your legs and throwing your head back.

"Seemed like a friend group thing," is what eventually crawls up from your throat. "Felt weird being the only one who didn't know everyone, y'know?"

He considers before nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I guess. But I would've been with you."

His stare feels sharp, like he can see right through your facade and into parts of you you've buried deep a long time ago. You hate it and love it, want to drown yourself in it and voluntarily inhale until your own demise.

Unable to hold his stare, you look into your almost empty glass, swishing around the bleeding wine and ice that remains at the bottom.

"Well, you're here with me now, anyway."

Megumi continues to admire you without words. Pointing an accusatory finger back at him, you nudge his leg with your foot. "So, why aren't you up there?"

"Cause you didn't show up," he doesn't hesitate to respond. Almost as if he regrets his eagerness but still stands by the sentiment, he clears his throat before adding, "Was weirdly hoping you would, but—"

He doesn't finish his sentence, trailing off with a lame shrug.

His eyes look greener when they're a bit more watery. Fuck it.

Slowly, maintaining eye contact with him the entire time to assess his reactions, you move to crawl into his lap. You sense a difference in his breathing pattern, but other than that, he makes no move to pull away from you. He lets you carefully straddle his legs before getting comfortable atop him, when he places his hands on the plush between your hips and thighs.

Leaning in, giving him any chance to reject you, stop you, hate you, you continue to keep his eye as your lips just barely brush against his. He does the same, refusing to look away from you as if he'll never get this opportunity again. As if he wants to take a picture and relish it forever.

"Stop me," you bite through a hushed whisper, daring him to put an end to this before it begins.

His breath is lulled against your own when he whispers, "No."

You kiss him, and he kisses you back. It starts simple, like you're learning all about one another's creases and folds. Between shaky inhales and nervous hands, you lean into one another's touch, savoring every taste and sound you can manage.

Megumi feels brave, and on one particular gasp from you, he prudently skims his tongue across your lower lip before slipping it inside. Rubbing against your own with a fervent need, you open your jaw further for him to have whatever he wants. Between your increased breathing, soft moans, and greedy hands, the two of you slowly become messy and desperate for one another.

Hips wantonly moving against his thighs, he flexes instinctually as you begin to grind yourself down on him. He meets your movements, half hard as he presses into you, both of you whimpering at the new-found friction. The two of you reduce to whiney teenagers, practically swallowing one another whole and dry-humping fully clothed before you open your eyes to look at him.

Megumi, eyes shut and whimpering into your neck, is too good for this — deserves more than this. He's kind, respectful, funny (though you'd never tell him that to his face), and you're both drunk. It feels so fucking good, but it isn't right. It's not supposed to happen like this.

Slowing your movements, you pull back to see his face. Dazed, he opens his pretty green eyes to look up at you like you hold the stars and sun in your hands.

"We shouldn't," you pant, brushing your bangs back and catching your breath. "We should stop."

Megumi, confused and hurt, but instantly moving you off of his lap with a gentle hold, nods in agreement. "Right, right, we're — we're drunk," he whispers, almost ashamed of everything that just happened.

Before you can say anything, he's readjusting himself and standing up. A bit more sober than he was a few minutes ago, he's straightening himself out and making his way to your door.

"Sorry—" he keeps repeating himself, "I'm… I'm so sorry."

He's gone before you can reassure him that there's nothing to apologize for.

.....

You don't hear from him the next morning — or afternoon.

When night falls, you've given up that there's any hope of saving whatever it was the two of you had going.

Wanting to drown yourself in your own sorrows, you stare at the text from your friend before you and weigh your options.

Stay in, cry yourself to a babbling mess, and finish your show

Answer their text and agree to go to this party with them

Thinking back to last night and how badly you fucked that one up, you decide the first choice is off-limits. Hoping you don't regret your decision, it's not long before you're looking decent enough to lock your door behind you and start the commute to your friends.

The walk isn't terrible, being ten minutes to your friend's place and an additional fifteen to whoever's party you're attending. On the west side of campus, you can hear the muffled music and drunken squeals of the attendees from down the street.

The party itself is fine, nothing special. The lime seltzer in your hand is still half full when you stray away from your friends in search of the bathroom.

There's a line formed down the hallway of drunk girls laughing, couples swallowing one another's faces, and a single guy slumped against the wall in his own world. Taking a second glance at the end of the line, you recognize the lone drunk as Yuuji.

Gently tapping his shoulder, his eyes blink open and he's nearly crushing you to death when wrapping his arms around you in excitement. He lets his animation get the best of him, lifting you in the air and spinning you once before he realizes he can't handle another. Leaning on the wall to steady both you and him, you're smiling at his sloppy yet endearing enthusiasm.

"What are you doing here!?" he beams, swaying back and forth and reeking of cheap booze.

"My friends dragged me out of the house," you tease before noticing truly how incoherent he is. Your nose crinkles with worry, "You fucked up?"

He can barely stand up straight, eyes unable to focus in one spot for too long as he blearily looks at you before skimming his body against the wall again. He's talking in slow gibberish, something about having one too many and wanting to talk to this pretty girl from his linguistics lecture before she leaves.

"Hey," you gently grab his jaw to steady his gaze. "Did you come here alone?"

Yuuji doesn't answer, or rather he does but it's nonsensical and impossible to go off of. You sigh, quickly scanning the suddenly overwhelming crowd around you before grabbing his arm and speaking kindly, yet reflective of a mother.

"Let me take you back to our building, okay?" you prompt him to stand up straight and follow your lead. "I'm going back anyways, I'll walk with you."

Yuuji's eyes light up with excitement at the thought of a journey with his neighbor friend, and it's not long before he's dragging his feet over one another and using your hand as a guide to the door.

On your walk home, you ache for the comfort of your warm bed, the feeling of taking these god-forsaken heels off, and Megumi's forgiveness. You wonder if you'll see him when dropping off Yuuji at his door — you pathetically hope so.

However, Yuuji didn't show up to this party alone.

Megumi, who had been grabbing him a drink and caught a glimpse of you two, saw the entire thing without context — Yuuji's hands around your waist, you caressing his jaw, the two of you leaving abruptly together.

He downs both his and Yuuji's drinks with ease.

..…

Megumi wasn't home.

Disappointed but relieved to see Yuuji safe in the comfort of his apartment, you help him collapse on his couch.

Turning him on his side and making him drink at least two cups of water before throwing a blanket over him and leaving a note, you close the door behind you with a heavy heart.

A few minutes later, you're a bit more at ease. Feet now ridden of silly high heels and skin against the soft cotton of your bed, you find yourself flooded with thoughts of Megumi.

You wake up to a constant thud on your front door. Picking up your phone, it's almost two in the morning and you're not even sure you're not dreaming when you're feet carry you to the blistering noise of a fist on your door.

Swinging it open with half-closed eyes, you're more than prepared to fight a murder charge to get whoever the hell this is to leave you alone. But before you can curse them with everything in you, you realize it's Megumi.

"Hi," he whispers. It's a start contrast from the violent banging on your door he was responsible for two seconds ago, but you can't find it in yourself to care.

"Hi," you respond, suddenly more than awake and just as breathless. "You okay?"

"Are you sleeping with Yuuji?"

Your heart skips exactly two beats before you can accurately comprehend his question. It's then when you notice that he's drunk, disgustingly so. You're not sure how it wasn't the first thing you noticed - but looking at his green eyes again, you give yourself some grace.

"… What?" is all you can pathetically muster.

"Itadori," he slurs. His face is pale with hurt and the collar of his shirt is all wrinkled.

You can't help but roll your eyes, "Yeah, I know who Yuuji is, but why the hell are you asking me that?"

"Because you shouldn't be," he declares through a heavy tongue and spinning head. You think you hear his voice crack with emotion when he continues, "I don't want you to sleep with him."

You're sure you're still dreaming as you take in his words. Since the moment you knocked on the door one floor above you, sleeping with Yuuji has never crossed your mind. You've been far too busy focusing on thinking about the man in front of you, who's wasted beyond belief and accusing you of something that not only doesn't make sense but hurts a bit.

He fumbles on his words, swallowing dryly and spiraling.

"You shouldn't sleep with him just because he walks around shirtless and invites you to hang out with us."

Your eyebrows pull downwards with what Megumi knows is hurt. He can't stop himself from talking or spewing nonsensical things just because he can.

Your voice is shaky when you plea, "Megumi, what?"

"I mean—he's my best friend, he's great," he throws his hands up to surrender the truth. "But we played video games and—and we kissed. And you're always looking at me with those eyes and—"

"Megumi," your voice comes tired now, cold. "You're drunk."

"You left with him. And you were whispering in his ear and touching his arm." He frowns, feeling sick just thinking about it again. He shakes the nightmare from his head when repeating his prior question.

"Are you sleeping with him?" he asks again, more accusatory this time around.

He watches your eyes fill with water, but it's not long-lived before you're blinking away any sign of weakness and cementing your walls up again.

"If you didn't notice," you spit with venom, "your friend is drunk off of his ass. I walked him home since he could barely stand on his own."

As if you're speaking another language, Megumi dumbly gapes at your confession.

"You—what?"

You press with ice in your words, "Walked him home. He's passed out on your couch right now."

"Oh." Megumi hadn't returned to his apartment before coming to yours. He'd walked home from the shitty party with one destination in mind, immediately talking the elevator to the fifth floor and finding your familiar floor.

He feels stupid, nauseous with guilt, and god, does his head hurt. His heart hurts too when you scoff and cross your arms in defense.

"Wanna go back to the part where you were practically calling me a slut?"

He cringes, "No, no god no, that's not what I was trying to—"

You don't give him the luxury of explaining himself. Turning your back and slamming the door, you take away his chance of redemption.

You sound unrecognizable when you tell him, "Go to fucking bed, Fushiguro."

.….

The birds outside of your window remind you that it's Sunday, and the open book on your desk reminds you that not only do you have class tomorrow, but you have an assignment due before midnight.

Memories of last night's conversation — if you could even call it that — with Megumi make you feel queazy. Nothing happened in the way you'd wanted. It all just spiraled out of control, like water slipping through a cracked ceiling, you'd just watched it leak without remorse.

The continued chirping outside reminds you that it's quiet, something you should use to your advantage. A light in this mess of a pathetic story.

You'll study, you decide. You'll grab a quick coffee from the cafe across the street and get some actual work done. Something you should've done a long time ago, something you’d ignored that ended up with this this heartbreak.

Not even ten minutes later, you're decent enough to slide your shoes on and grab your house keys. Opening the door into the hallway, you're met with familiar eyes.

Megumi looks disheveled, sitting with his knees up against the wall of your hallway. At your abrupt opening of the front door, he's quick to stand up and dust his pants off from the grime of the hallway carpet. You notice he has a paper bouquet of pinks and blues in his hand and an exhausted frown on his face.

When he looks at you, he can almost feel the air leaving your lungs as your stomach drops.

The first words you say to him are softer than he expects, than he thinks he deserves, but still carried by a look of disapproval.

"Were you here all night?" your lip turns with disgust.

"No—" he spews too quickly. Seeing your expression that clearly reads disbelief, he slows himself down. Taking a deep breath, he repeats himself with a bit more certainty. "No, I've been here since like, seven maybe?"

"Why?"

His hand trembles in a way he hopes you have the respect to ignore as he moves to give you the bouquet. "Because I'm sorry," his voice is steady, like he's been practicing in the mirror.

Choosing to make him work for it, your eyes flicker to the flowers unimpressed before finding his face again.

"For?" you cruelly push him further.

But Megumi's determined to meet your forces just as equally. His voice gains confidence as he speaks clearly, "For panicking and assuming the worst last night. I was drunk, but that's not an excuse. It was a douchebag thing to do."

Admiring how your face softens at his apology but still carries creased lines of worry, Megumi half expects your response.

"And?"

This is the part he's a bit unprepared for.

"And for leaving that night," his volume dips with the confession, eyes wanting to find comfort in the floor so badly but refusing to leave your own as he tries and tries and tries to fix this, "I..."

His lips move before he can think twice about his words, "I thought it was what you wanted."

His confession cracks something inside of you, like nails digging crescents into raw skin. Slowly, you gesture for him to come inside. He hesitates but follows when you move towards the couch, the same couch you'd straddled him on two nights prior. It looks different in the daylight.

Megumi's careful with each step, as if he's walking on eggshells, when he slowly sits beside you on the couch. Placing the bouquet on your table, he moves as if you're a predator, as if he'll make one wrong move and you'll snap, lurching at him and sinking your talons into his neck. You hate how it makes you feel.

Your words surprise the both of you when they eventually come. "I'm sorry I reacted the way I did. I wanted you to stay I just—felt bad."

Felt bad? Megumi's mind goes numb at the realization. Felt bad for him? Like when you do a good deed to cancel out a bad one? Did you kiss him that night because you pitied him?

Before his mind runs itself further into the worst-case scenario, he's brought back to reality as you continue.

"We were drunk, and I didn't want that to be how it happened y'know?"

He starts at you blankly, "It?" He lamely asks.

This time, it's your voice that weakens with shame. He watches you fiddle with your fingers, the same ones he remembers feeling in his hair and on his skin. The ones he wants to feel again.

"Felt like I was coming onto you, and you deserved better than that," you eventually reveal softly, correcting yourself with certainty. "Deserve better than that."

And he feels stupid. God, does Megumi feel stupid. All this time, he'd been thinking you regretted the why of the situation, kissing him like you did. He'd never stopped to think about the fact of how you did it. Never thought you'd be so inclined to consider his wishes.

You think he regrets it, and that is the last thing he wants you to believe.

Taking a risk, Megumi lays a gentle palm on your thigh. He does so slowly, giving you a chance to revolt and bite his hand clean off the bone. You don't so he relaxes his hand.

It's not sexual, not desperate and needy like how it was the other night. It's calm. comforting. Another way for him to say I'm still here, aren't I?

"I'm not great with words," he starts, "but I was very much into it. I need you to know that. You didn't—do anything I didn't want."

Softly and ignoring the criticism from the voice in your head for once, you nod.

You recognize the familiar pull of his lips when he softly grins. "Think it's pretty obvious now, but in case it's not," he leans into this whole communicating thing, "I really like being around you."

He thinks his heart grows a size when you weakly smile back at him, "You like being around me?"

He shrugs, laughing at your sarcasm. "Around you, with you. I guess I just like you, really."

You raise your eyebrows, challenging his statement, "Are you still drunk?"

"Fuck no."

You hum shortly. "Hungover?"

"Disgustingly so," he grimaces at the reminder of how nauseous he is.

"Thinking clearly?"

"Never really around you, but clear as I can be."

It's soft and sweet, and this is how you wanted it to be. Naturally, as if you're both magnets being pulled to one another, Megumi is carefully guiding you into his lap as you're naturally making yourself at home in his hold.

The position almost exactly mimics the one you'd found yourself in on Friday night, but this time, it's different. It feels different — golden instead of red and light with a newfound meaning.

With gentle eyes and slight nods from each of you, you kiss once more. His mouth moves the same, eager yet graceful as he leans into you. No wandering hands or drunken hiccups, you feel one another smile into the kiss until it is all giggles and teeth.

"Y'know, if you wanted to ask me out," you pull away from him, accusatory with an underlying teasing, "you should've just asked like a normal person instead of accusing me of sleeping with your friend."

Megumi groans in embarrassment, hiding his face in your neck. You feel the heat of his cheeks when he sighs.

"Yeah, that wasn't my finest moment."

Kisses are stolen and silence is shared until he yawns you remember how awful he must still feel from drinking so much. Crawling off of his lap, you ignore the butterflies in your stomach whines he whines at the loss of your weight.

"Want anything?" you call out as you walk towards the kitchenette. "I have Advil and a bagel with your name on it."

Megumi hums at the thought, not confirming or denying the offer, as his eyes remain locked in on you in a blissful comfort.

Your voice becomes more distant as you turn the corner, "I'll even give you those eyes I know you like so much."

A muffled sound of humiliation can be heard from the couch, "God, please forget I said that."

Putting the bagel in the toaster and reaching up to the medicine cabinet, you laugh carelessly.

"Never."

…..

Yuuji wakes up with a throbbing headache and an acidic burning in the back of his throat.

He groans, turning on his side before realizing that — he's not in his bed. With blurry vision and sweaty hands fumbling to survey the environment around him, he feels for his phone. The screen is far too bright and completely overridden of missed calls and texts, reading a mocking 2:14 PM when he groans.

When yelling Megumi's name a handful of times doesn't work (it usually does), he opens his Find My Friends app and tracks his roommate. Seeing his icon appear right next to his own while ironically hearing your echoing laughter ring from upstairs, he laughs.

Before he closes his eyes again and deals with a hangover from hell, he sends Megumi a text before tossing his phone across the room.

Ur welcome for not actually calling dibs.

#ive looked at this too long and need it out of my face #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #megumi x you #megumi fic #megumi fushiguro fic #jjk megumi #megumi fluff #megumi fushiguro fluff #megumi smut #megumi fushiguro smut

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all-about-kyu · 1 year ago

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Summary: Is it so bad that Seonghwa wants to give his daughter a little sibling? Pairing: dilf!Seonghwa x nanny!reader Genre: smut Tropes: dilf au, forbidden romance au Rating: R 18+ Warnings: breeding kink, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, daddy kink, clitoral stimulation, creampie Word Count: 911 Note: part one of the Arousal August event!! Thank you to @raibebe for beta/proofing this <3

“Oh fuck,” you whine into the kiss, “Daddy, it’s-”

Seonghwa pulls his lips from yours just far enough that you can’t reach him. “What is it, darling?” he asks with a condescending tone.

You let out a string of moans as he picks up the pace more. You were really asking for it this time too. You’ve been making offhanded comments about giving him another baby for the past two weeks. His daughter was nearly four now, and it only seemed appropriate that he got another. What you didn’t realize was how serious Seonghwa would get about putting his returning quips about fucking a baby into you.

Seonghwa is still spewing filthy words in your direction as he kisses down your throat. But you can hardly process anything he’s saying. All you can focus on is your impending orgasm. The words you’re attempting to say are definitely not words at all. More likely than not, you’re babbling nonsense. Suddenly, Seonghwa’s thrusts stop entirely, and you finally get a moment of clarity. He’s looking down at you with concern in his eyes, searching for something in your eyes. You hadn’t even processed the tears running down your cheeks until this moment.

“There’s my girl,” he smiles softly, “I was trying to check on you, and you weren’t responding to my question. Are you okay?” he asks, wiping away a stray tear.

“I’m okay,” you confirm, “Just feels so good.”

Something darkens in his eyes, “Daddy fucks you so good you started crying? You want me to fuck you full of my cum that badly?”

You clench around him, preemptively giving him his answer. Still, you nod as further confirmation. He starts thrusting into you slowly again, and you can tell he’s about to muse about something that’ll only serve to make you more desperate.

“I wanted to be sure you were okay, but goddamnit, you look so fucking pretty when you cry for me,” he says with a dreamy lilt, “So desperate for me to fuck you full that you’re crying for it.”

With that, he returns to his original pace, and you see stars when he does so. Your legs lock around his hips as your fingernails dig into his shoulders slightly, hoping to hold on to the last threads of your sanity. More tears spring from your eyes, and Seonghwa quickly kisses them away before kissing down your throat again. Again, you feel your orgasm bubbling inside you.

“Daddy, I wanna cum,” you all but yell out in a moan.

“Aww, my sweet girl wants to cum?” he chuckles, “You aren’t waiting for Daddy to fuck a baby into you first?”

“Please, please, please,” you beg with a whiney voice, “I need it so bad.”

“Need Daddy’s cum or for you to cum? Be specific, angel.”

You whine and beg unintelligibly, not even sure what you’re begging for. All you can think about is how desperately you want your Daddy to put a baby in you. As if he reads your mind, Seonghwa takes one of his hands and begins toying with your clit, perfectly adding to his bruising thrusts. If you thought you were fucked brainless before, now you’re on another plane of existence.

“I wish you could see yourself, sweet girl, crying for me, just waiting to get fucked full of my cum. It’s cute.”

“Daddy, please,” you moan.

“Cum, sweetheart, I’ve got you.”

Between his words, his thrusts, and the way he’s playing with your clit, your orgasm immediately comes barreling into you. Your legs go limp against the bed as you shake beneath him. The way your walls flutter around Seonghwa triggers his orgasm, and you feel how his cum floods into your pussy. Even after the rush of your orgasms, Seonghwa still thrusts gently and shallowly into you, riding out that post-orgasmic feeling. He lays down on top of your body, still fully inside you. You both stay practically silent for a few moments as you catch your breath.

“So,” you sigh out a laugh after a few moments.

“So?” Seonghwa echos.

“Crying?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles breathlessly, “Kinda shocked me too. You just look so fucking beautiful when-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there before you end up getting us into another round,” you tease.

Seonghwa chuckles at your comment and pushes his weight off of you as he pulls out. His eyes stay fixated on your now very messy pussy as his cum leaks out. You almost feel shy under his gaze and gently prod at him with your foot. That breaks him from his stupor, and his eyes lock on yours again.

“You okay there, old man?” you tease.

“Old man?” he asks, raising his eyebrow, “We both know that’s not true.”

“Are you not a dad?”

“That means nothing, sweetheart. You’re about to be a mom. Wouldn’t that also mean that you’re old too?” he teases back, placing a peck on your lips.

“Well, we don’t know if-”

“I’ll keep you so full of my cum you won’t have a choice but to get pregnant, my love. My daughter is with her mom this week for vacation. We have the whole fucking week for me to breed this pussy” he practically growls, fingering some of his cum back into you, “I’ll get you crying for me again too. Next time think before you start teasing me with that kind of thing. You’re about to reap the consequences for the next seven days.”

Networks: @cultofdionysusnet @kwritersworld @k-vanity

Tag List: @sanjoongie @jaehunnyy @ericssmile @anyamaris @almondmilkeu

#seonghwa smut #cultofdionysusnet #kwritersworldnet #kvanity #arousal august #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez smut #seonghwa fanfic #seonghwa x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months ago

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You Make Me Wanna 6

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, best friend’s dad trope other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note:Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

As unsurprised as you were when Faye shunned you, you’re even less put off by her sudden reappearance. She does this. There was a whole month in high school when suddenly she was too busy trying to fit in with the local Regina George and her minions. You know she only came back then because she had to work to impress them.

You’re not insulted. You know who and what you are, even without her father reminding you. You reread the text, tempted to hit those three dots and tap gleefully press ‘block’. You’re still friends, even if she can be a shitty one. You care about her.

‘Can we meet?’

You already have your response typed in; ‘where?’ You’ve been trying to send it for the last hour. Something keeps you from push your thumb against that arrow. Is it worth it this time?

Before you can think too much, your phone vibrates again. Almost as if she can sense your doubt. ‘Please. It’s serious.’

Fuck. Fuck. Fucking fuck. As if you don’t have enough to deal with.

You send the text and grab your bag. The kids are already asleep, your mom’s here, probably sleeping too. You hurry to the door without a response. This is it. The last time. You’re going to tell Faye exactly that. Next time she can call her dad. You don’t need the trouble. Besides, she’s doing all this to piss him off, it has nothing to do with you.

You put your shoes on and leave as quietly as you can, double checking the locks behind you. You stomp down the front walk as the streetlights shine down and head down towards the bus stop. Your phone shakes. What the hell?

At least it’s close. You read the address again. You know it. Two blocks away on Wilmington; dealer district. This isn’t good.

You put your chin down and set your eyes ahead of you. Don’t look at anyone, just keep going. You sling your purse around your body, keeping your hand on it. You have your phone firmly in the other.

Wilmington. Even your mother has enough sense to warn you against going around there. You head down and count the numbers from the corner of your eye. You slow as you near the house in question. What do you do? Knock on the door? You don’t know if that’s a great idea. Looks like a flop house.

You hear your name and a shadow ripples on the crooked porch. You look up as a dark figure staggers to the top of the steps. Faye looks willowy and drawn out as the moonlight hits her skin. The skin around her eyes baggy and discolored and she’s wearing the same outfit she wore to the club.

“What the hell?” You hiss as you march forward. She stumbles down the stairs and you barely catch her, “Faye?”

“I’m sorry. I was scared,” she murmurs as she latches onto you, “you gotta help me.”

She reeks, she’s shaking, and she’s slurring her words.

“Are you high?” You whisper at you hold her at arm’s length.

“Not anymore,” she sniffles, “please, my head is killing me.”

“What the fuck?!” You barely keep from shrieking, “how-- why the fuck would you do that?”

“That guy... we were just snorting a little and then... I don’t know. I can’t remember.”

“Faye,” you whine, “are you out of your mind?”

“I’m sorry. It wasn’t...” she shakes her head and her voice drifts off, her frazzled eyes dimming, “I don’t know...”

She scratches her arm and you notice the scabbing there. You sigh and shake your head. You’re so tired of this. As if you don’t have enough to deal with at home with three siblings. Faye isn’t your problem, she won’t be after this.

“Fine. I’ll take you home. Your dad can deal with you--”

“No, please. You can’t,” she pleads and grabs you again, “I can’t-- He’ll kill me.”

“Faye, what the fuck am I supposed to do? I don’t have anywhere else to take you.”

“I’ll stay in your room--”

“No,” you say bluntly, “I have work and my siblings can’t be around you like this.”

“Why are you being so mean?” She whines.

You grit your teeth and look around as you hear voices from unseen mouths. You exhale and grab her wrist, dragging her hand from your arm.

“Let’s get out of here first,” you turn and tug her after you. “Fucking Wilmington? Wilmington?”

“Please, don’t be mad,” she snivels, “my dad’s gonna lose it if he knows. I need you. I need you to be nice--”

“I need you to stop fucking me around,” you snarl, “don’t you understand? Every dumb shit decision you make her brings down on me?”

“Huh?” She staggers heavily in her dirty wedges.

“Your fucking dad. Thinks he rules the whole damn world. And who is he gonna blame for this? You’re in my neighbourhood. You think I want to deal with him?”

“I’m sorry,” she whimpers.

“You’re not,” you insist, “this is the last fucking time.”

“Please--”

“No, Faye,” you spin on her as you turn off of Wilmington. You have to keep yourself from shoving her, instead letting her go and throwing up your hands. “You have everything. You get to go back to school, you get to go home to your nice little suburban castle, you get to have your dad pay for it all. I have to go work at the goddamn grocery store and watch my life spin down the fucking sewer. I get to lay awake at night and worry if my siblings are gonna end up over here or if my mom’s going to come home at all when I haven’t seen her in two weeks!”

You ball your hands to fists, overwhelmed by the eruption of repressed emotions, “you get to smile and cry and get out of it all.”

“I...” she breathes, “I... didn’t know--”

“You never cared. Never listened,” you drops your arms and slump. “Go and live your life. Live it up in college, move somewhere nice, get married, do all that fun shit. I’ll stay. I don’t get that choice.”

The roll of tires near as you stand in tense silence. Faye mopes and hangs her head, swaying and scratching, “can I just stay one night?” She whispers.

You sigh again.

You sense a car draw up to the curb. Great, some jackass thinks you’re a street walker. You’re ready to tell him to fuck off but swallow the sneer. You could still say so.

Walter steps out on the other side of the car, “Faye,” he snarls.

“See,” you turn to her again, “don’t you realise who he’s going to blame now?” You face the man’s broad shadow, “don’t worry, Mr. Marshall, I was just telling her to go home and never come back. You win. I quit.”

“Both of you, get in,” he growls.

You scoff and Faye cowers behind you, “daddy--”

“Faye, just go,” you try to nudge her ahead of you, “I have to go home.”

“I said both,” Walter stomps around and rips open the back door. “In.”

“Here, she can go--” you urge Faye towards the backseat as she fights weakly.

As you push her head down and she surrenders, curling onto the seat, you’re shoved from behind. You barely keep from hitting your brow on the metal and throw your arm back at Walter. He catches your wrist and twists your arm behind you.

“It’s late. I’m on duty. I can’t leave you here,” he insists.

“What do you care?” You hiss and fight him.

“Don’t make me get the cuffs.”

You recoil at his threat and fall inside the car. You turn back to sneer at him but his face in covered in black shadow. Your nostrils flare and you shake your head. You bite down on a million insults and pull your legs inside.

Once he has Faye safe, you’ll figure a way out.

#you make me wanna #walter marshall #dark walter marshall #dark!walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #night hunter #drabble #series #au #the club

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radioapple-heathen · 4 months ago

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My Top 10 📻🍎 'Multi-Chaptered' Fic Recs

(A continuation of my previous post. You can find info about my fic preferences and my top 10 'Series' fic recs here.)

1.) Somewhere down the line by kj_crwn

Complete (6/6). Rated E. POV: Lucifer. Genre: Canon Divergence. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes:

So, just like my #1 on my series recs, this fic has Lucifer and Alastor meeting in the living world first before canon takes place while Alastor is still a human, and then reuniting in Hell as the events of canon unfold. Absolutely my fav trope. It helps that the writing is absolutely gorgeous!!! This is such a comfort fic for me, could read it a million times over. It looks like the author considered making it a series but, at the time of making this rec list, it is a standalone fic.

2.) Even As A Shadow, Even As A Dream by @winterveritas

Complete (2/2). Rated E. POV: Lucifer. Genre: AU - Hell. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes:

Really, anything Winter touches is absolute gold, but this fic rocked me to my core. The way this author portrays Lucifer's grief during Alastor's absence, like. I've been reading fic a long, long time. It takes quite a bit to pull tears out of me, but I sobbed while reading this. Don't let that scare you away, this author is allergic to unhappy endings, but the gut punch of emotions, oh my god. Also, for those who love when extensions of the boys come into play, Alastor's shadow and Lucifer's snake have roles as well, and that is a huge headcanon of mine so it was delightful to see it in this. Writing is flawless, prose is gorgeous, dialogue is top-notch. Just agonizingly wonderful, beginning to end.

3.) Bedtime Rituals to Try out Before The Next Angelic War by @miribalis

Complete (8/8). Rated T+. POV: Lucifer. Genre: Canon Divergence/Post-Canon. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes: I, like many others, stumbled across this fic due to this beautiful fanart and god. This fic is SO INCREDIBLE. The dynamics between the boys are everything????? This is a QPR take on them, and it's beautiful? Just gorgeous in every way, from the writing to the characterizations and the non-sexual intimacy exploration. ALLLLL the love for this fic.

4.) Lucid Dreams of New Orleans by @radiaurapple

In-Progress (14/15). Rated T+. POV: Switches. Genre: Post-Canon. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes:

Wow. Just... It's hard to put into words the admiration I have for this author/fic. In such a popular fandom/ship, it can definitely be hard to find a unique take on said popular ship. However, this. THIS. This is one of the most original radioapple fics I've ever had the joy of reading. Beautiful imagery, STUNNING PREMISE, the emotions, the prose, THE RADIOAPPLE BOYS, everything about it is perfect.

5.) The Ruination of Lucifer by @syaunei

In-Progress (31/?). Rated E. POV: Alastor. Genre: Canon Divergence/Post-Canon. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes:

Not sure there are words in the English language to describe how fantastic this fic is. Everything I wanna say feels lacking. This fic has some of the most beautiful writing I've ever read. And it is such a delicious character study on Alastor, the inner workings of that man's mind is just insane. The way syaunei takes such a complex character apart, strand by strand, is truly phenomenal. I mentioned in my fic preferences disclaimer that I lean more towards top!Lucifer, but lemme tell you, this is top!Alastor DONE RIGHT.

6.) Something in Me Understood by @winterveritas

Complete (8/8). Rated E. POV: Alastor. Genre: AU - Human!Alastor/Devil!Lucifer. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes:

This was written for radioapple week 2024, and Winter spoiled us rotten with the frequency of updates for this one. Bookstore AU but make it sexy? XD I am trying to keep my gushing to a minimal, but really, all of Winter's fics are fantastic. This one also includes some beautiful art. AND AND AND intersex!Lucifer, which again... a weakness for me.

7.) Awake, Arise by iffervescent

Complete (14/14). Rated E. POV: Switches. Genre: Canon Divergence/Post-Canon. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes:

HOLY PLOT! As I mentioned in my previous post, I definitely prefer more romance vs heavy plot in my fanfics, but when a fic can balance them both as experty as this one HO BOY! It makes for truly a good time! 🙏 Fantastic fic!

8.) Passing Ships by @selphhelp, @androidwiththeparanoid

In-Progress. (7/?). Rated E. POV: Alastor. Genre: AU - Human/Great Gatsby inspo. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes:

Please envision this gif of the man screaming "Let me tell you something! Let me tell you something!" as I ramble about this fic because its a fucking gem, and it is so so so criminally underrated. I know its niche, but I think people assume you need to know about The Great Gatsby to read/enjoy it. YOU DON'T. I'm telling you, I remember ZERO about that book, and this fic has been an absolute delight??? Yandere!Alastor??? Vox's One-Sided Psychosexual Obsession with Alastor??? Possessive Lucifer??? IT HAS IT ALL. And the writing and characterizations are superb!

9.) Strange Appetites by Gotllphi

In-Progress. (20/23). Rated E. POV: Alastor. Genre: AU - Human!Alastor/Devil!Lucifer. Notable Warnings: Extremely graphic depictions of violence.

Notes:

Ho boy. I... I DON'T KNOW WHAT SAY. *gestures vaguely*. ITS JUST GOOD? VERY GOOD?? but also, cannibalism, violence, Alastor being a golly ol' serial killer, consensual but not safe or sane bdsm, etc etc. Also plot galore!

10.) Born for Adversity by fourshadesofgreen

In-Progress. (2/3). Rated E. POV: Alastor. Genre: AU - Human!Alastor/Devil!Lucifer. Notable Warnings: None.

Notes:

This is a short one, but I love everything this author writes, and the ending scene of chap 2 has been living in my head rent-free since they posted it. Human!Alastor has fallen in love with the Devil and tries to summon him through his killings. Fantastic premise and writing.

❤️❤️❤️

I'll be doing one more rec list for oneshots! I'll post it in a few days. I hope you guys are enjoying the recs!

#radioapple #appleradio #alastor x lucifer #lucifer x alastor #radioapple recs #radioapple fic recs

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youngies-bae · 7 months ago

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The Lorax

Characters/Pairing: Wooyoung x Gn!Reader

AU/Trope Info & Warnings: Idol AU, Body Contact(?), Use of Baby, Teasing, Massage(?).

Genre & Rating: PG, Fluff.

Taglist: @minkilicious

W/C: 1.1K

Summary: You take care of Wooyoung after his great performance at Coachella.

A/n: This story is completely FICTION and does not represent Wooyoung in any way. I FINALLY DID IT. Idk why it took me so long to come out with something... but either way Ima thank my PAPA (@yessa-vie) for her very INSPIRING words. 😔

You walk in the door to see your boyfriend and his members sitting on the couch in a row, with Hongjoong bending down in front of a tripod.

He takes his phone off it and slides it into his pocket.

“Hey, Baby.” Wooyoung pops up quickly, his hands are in his pocket, and you can see that his cheeks are slightly flushed.

“Hey! You did so amazing! I- I can’t get the way you smiled out of my head. I’m replaying your part of Crazy Form repeatedly.” You can’t believe how awesome your boyfriend and his friends are.

When you found out that they were goi no to Coachella you were so excited. Couldn’t believe it. You were so happy for them.

They were so happy. They couldn’t stop talking about it.

“Really?” Wooyoung flashes his beautiful smile. The smile that you love so much.

“Yes! I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true. And when have I ever lied to you?”

“Okay. Got me there.”

“And I SO glad that you kept your clothes on unlike somebody…” you drag out the last word making sure the certain “somebody” you're talking about heard you.

“Hey! I look good! And I’m sure Atinys loved it!” San defends himself.

“Oh, I’m sure they did. I’m glad you were half naked. It’ll distract them from looking at what’s mine.” You put your arms over Wooyoung shoulders.

“Hmm, how are you, baby? We haven’t had time to talk all day.” Wooyoung asked you.

“I am fine, you are the one I wanna focus on right now.” You counter.

“Wait…,” you lean into Wooyoung and smell his neck. Next you look at his clothing, “ohh baby. You were sweating so much. And it was cold out. You better not get sick.”

“I’m fine I promise. Plus, I have you to take care of me.” His hands are placed on your hips, and he leans in to give you a soft tender kiss.

“Gross… you know we’re still here, right?” You hear Mingi complain.

Wooyoung softly pulls away from you and turns his head to his members, “yeah. That reminds me,” he turns back to you, “I reserved us a different apartment.”

Your eyes widen, “oh thank God! I didn’t wanna be sharing a apartment with 8 smelly men.”

“Hey!” Wooyoung wines.

“Sorry… 7 smelly men.”

He smiles and glances at your lips, his hands still placed on your hips. He pulls you closer to him and lays his lips on yours.

“Let’s bounce.”

***

“You sure they’ll be, okay?” You ask him.

“Y/n. There 8 grown men. I’m sure they can handle themselves.” Wooyoung states.

You nod your head agreeing.

On your way over to the different apartment you and Wooyoung decided to pick up some take-out.

KQ decided to go with apartments instead of regular hotel rooms since their stay would be longer than usual.

Wooyoung stripped himself of his clothes then hopped in the shower as you to him. Because he was stankin…

He lays back on the couch with his feet up as you make plates.

“Hmm, it smells so good~” he says.

You just smile.

You know how tired he is by listening to his voice, plus you know good and well that if he wasn’t he’d be trying to pick some of the food out with his hands.

He’d also fight for the bigger plate.

“Here you go, Sir.” You hand your sleepy boyfriend his large plate of food. He already had his drink placed on the coffee table beside him.

You run your hand across his bare chest and turn it softly rubbing his shoulder and following with the other hand.

“Hmm, baby. What are you doing?” Wooyoung tilts his head back, softly tapping your stomach.

His features are so breathtaking. His lips, eyes, jaw, neck. Makes you just want to kiss every part of him.

You take the way his head is leaned back as an opportunity to.

Your hands work on his tense shoulders as you explain what and why you are doing this, “Well, since you worked so hard I figured that you’d be tense, or at least sore.”

“Huh. Thank you, Y/n.”

Everything changed since he met you. He’s been having great meals, spending less time on his phone, standing up for himself. Many things that improved him.

“It feels nice~” he says softly with his eyes shut. He takes his fork and fills his face with rice.

After about 15 minutes he’s done with his food, and so are you with his shoulders.

“Hey, why don’t we watch a movie? There’s a tv in the bedroom if you prefer it in there.”

“Nah, let’s stay in here. Actually, I think I’m gonna stay in here for the rest of the night this coach is really comfortable.” You tilt your head to the side and stopped rubbing his shoulders.

“You sure? Last time you said you were going to sleep on the coach you didn’t get any sleep and could barely keep your eyes open. And we still have two more nights here. We're going to the second day of Coachella tomorrow. You need energy.” You state.

“Yea, I’m sure. I just...” You come around and sit on the couch next to him. “I didn't have you sleeping next to me last time.”

He draped his arm behind you and pulled you closer, laying a soft his to your temple. He pulls away and you look at him and smile.

“What are we watching?” You ask him.

“Terrifier.” He responds.

“Oh hell no. You're gonna be shittin’ bricks watching that. I’m going to have claw marks from you holding onto me so tightly. I don’t need these Americans thinking that you are cutting me.” Your tone is a little stronger and your eyebrows are furrowed. “Remember when we watched “IT”? You literally screamed like you just saw someone get killed in front of you.”

“Maybe because someone did?!” Wooyoung throws his hands up, with his eyebrows raised as a way to defend himself.

“Mhm.” You shake your head, disagreeing.

“Fine then,” he rolls his eyes, “we’ll watch “The Lorax”.”

Your eyes light up, “YAHH!!”. Your favorite movie is “The Lorax”.

You turn around so you're facing the TV, and your body is pressed against his. He also moves to position you both comfortably. He set his left arm under the pillow that your head was resting on and wrapped his other arm around you after he put the movie on.

He pulled you close to him before laying one final kiss to your head.

“Y/n.”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez fluff #ateez x reader #wooyoung #ateez wooyoung #wooyoung ateez #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung imagines

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billcyphersballsack · 4 months ago

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Actually no joke I need to see more slay the monster (or whatever the reverse au is called) content.

I need to see the princesses perspectives translated into voices I need to hear how they think how they process. So much of (some of) the perspectives power comes from their control over their situations and I wanna know what they’d do with that partially taken away

I need to see the voices translated into perspectives I need to see how their forms are twisted and shaped by the princesses interactions with them.

I NEED to see how the narrator would respond to the shift. The entire reason the voice of the hero initially puts doubt in the player and hints that the narrators word might not be law is by pointing out the obvious tonal dissonance of a hero SLAYING a princess rather than SAVING her. But that doesn’t exist with slay the monster. The narrator wouldn’t need to work as hard to convince the player that they’re doing “the right thing” cuz it’s a monster! It’s chained up and dangerous and going to hurt a lot of people if you don’t kill it! The voice of the princess (my decided title for the VOT Hero in this au cuz obviously the actual Princess would be called the shifting mound the same way we’re the long quiet) would then have to take an angle of “we’re supposed to protect our subjects and our people. Monster or not, isn’t that what this creature is?” Which is still an appeal to the common trope as well as your morality. The narrator would play into your role as a princess like crazy going on about your duty to protect the world you rule over and to save innocent people who’s lives are in your hands, basically what he does to the long quiet but more

Mostly though I just think an inverse of their situations in the cabin would be fun. The chapter one princess is such an interesting character because she’s not the perfect victim. Her honey sweet voice and her doe eyes and her innocent scared demeanour aren’t necessarily fabricated just overplayed. She is genuinely scared, that’s the part that’s true, everything else is a desperate appeal to your humanity that you’ll let her go. It becomes somewhat real in the damsel rout when you free her and warn her and fight tooth and nail to save her, but for the most part it’s for show. If you come down there with a knife or decide mid convo you’re actually gonna kill her for real she drops it. She’s harsh and cold and keeps you at arms length, she acts bored and above it all when she speaks to you picking at her nails and glaring at you. GRANTED THAT COULD ALL BE WRONG! Maybe the harsh and cold personality is the fictitious one, a front built up to protect herself from danger, and really the frightened and desperate personality is the real one. MAYBE THEY’RE BOTH REAL! OR MAYBE THEY’RE BOTH MADE UP. It’s probably that last one but for the sake of my bit we’re going with the first one.

The point is the princess tries to appear put together and composed in both these versions of her personality, but deep down she’s like a caged wild animal and isn’t afraid to act like a caged wild animal if she has to

Now imagine the inverse of that, for The Monster

Outwardly a beast who smarls and claws at every surface trying to break free from its prison. If you bring the blade it slinks into the far corner of the room and hisses and spits while you trying and communicate with it but if you go unarmed it will lunge at you held back by its chains just barely. It’s frightening it’s threatening there is no attempt to appeal to any morality or present a domineering front to strong arm you into doing what it wants, it’s just pure violence and fear, a creature who wears its emotions on its sleeve. Depending on what you do it’s iterations become more or less beastly (I’d imagine guys like Stubborn or Broken or Hunted or Cold would get even more violent or reactive but guys like Paranoid or Opportunist or Cheated or Contrarian would have a more pensive and thoughtful approach, you can decide for the rest) but as you play and as you try and speak with it you discover actually there’s a lot more complex thought behind its eyes, and once the fear subsides there’s a person with throught and feelings hiding under all those feathers and teeth. Also not the perfect victim, they also bite the hand that feeds, but like a little to the left you know

Can you tell? Can you tell it’s like a worm digging into my frontal lobe and eating away at my brain? Huh? Can you tell???

#slay the princess #slay the princess spoilers #slay the monster au #long post #if you see a spelling mistake no you didn’t

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blackhairedjjun · 8 months ago

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improvisation - c.yj

pairing: choi yeonjun x gn reader | genre / tropes: fluff, a little bit angsty?, fake dating, university au, friends to ???, open / ambiguous ending | word count: 725 | warnings: food mentions

part of my 300 followers event (event masterlist)

prompt - UNCERTAIN: while pretending/acting/undercover, the sender says “i love you” to the receiver, but whether they meant it or not is left unknown. (requested by @mazeinthemoon - maybe jjuni who’s normally very shy about his feelings and then when undercover he uses it as the opportunity to say how much he loves reader? :( )

author's notes: hi moon!! thank you thank you from the bottom of my heart for being one of my earliest and biggest supporters, it truly means a lot ♥ i love shy!jjunie and i love the fake dating trope a lot so i'm glad i got to write them both for this prompt! i hope you enjoy!

“so yeonjun, how did you win our little bear over?”

“mom,” you groan, “don’t call me that in front of him…”

yeonjun glances at you with a giggle. “why not?” he says, his teasing smile making your heart beat a little faster. “it’s cute and it suits you.”

your mother grins at him and nods; your father looks up from the chicken he’s eating to raise his eyebrows in approval. at least his impromptu comment is having the intended effect, you think. yeonjun is playing the role of the perfect boyfriend as if he were born for it.

“anyway,” he says, leaning forward across the tiny table in your dorm, “we met in class…”

the story that you and yeonjun tell your parents is mostly true, with a few embellishments that you practiced the day before. the two of you did meet in class, and the two of you did end up being partners for a major project there. you did end up becoming his study buddy after he failed a test, and he did become your lunch buddy after he saw you eating alone.

but yeonjun talks about how cute you looked on the first day of class, or how warm you sounded when you comforted him after his failure — details he insisted on adding during your rehearsal, and you’re absolutely sure he made them up for dramatic effect. no way in hell would choi yeonjun, resident campus crush, think that someone like you looks cute.

when you call him a sweetheart for offering to sit with you at lunch after your ex-best friend ended your friendship, you know it to be true. but yeonjun calling you cute and warm? no, that can’t possibly be based on reality…

“i asked y/n to date me here in this dorm, actually,” yeonjun continues, his voice soft. “i ordered dinner for them, got all their favorite foods, played their favorite songs… and i said i love them.” he turns to you now, taking your hand in his and kissing it. “and i still do… i love you, baby.”

you freeze. this isn’t what you rehearsed.

but with your mother letting out an aww at your story and your father smiling, you can’t break the illusion. you intertwine your fingers with his and close your eyes, trying to calm the frenzied beating of your heart. why is he going off-script? what does this mean?

“i… i love you too, jjun…” you stammer. your hands are clammy and your face is hot. to your parents, you look like a blushing, lovesick mess.

at least you haven’t blown your cover.

一

the dinner is a success; you’ve managed to convince your parents that you’re happily dating yeonjun and not “languishing alone away from home,” as your mother feared. you should have felt contented washing the dishes while yeonjun dries them and puts them away. everything is going according to plan 一 right?

and yet your mind lingers on the one moment when your friend veered off-script. the soft “i love you,” the feeling of soft lips on your palm. surely yeonjun was merely improvising, convincing your parents of your heart-fluttering romance. but why did it make your heart flutter for real?

“your parents are nice,” yeonjun says as he dries the dishes you washed. “i see why you wanna impress them so much.”

his thoughts interrupt your from your reverie. you were thinking about his improvisation again.

“yeah.” you help him put the dishes away. “they’re a little crazy, but… they’re good to me.”

the question starts to rise in your mind and you feel your cheeks start to burn. all you need to do is ask him: “by the way, where’d that ‘i love you’ come from?” but your throat goes dry every time you try. yeonjun himself never brings it up. silence hangs between you; he looks up at you from staring at the dishcloth in his hands but he immediately turns away, his ears turning pink.

when the dishes are done, he manages to meet your gaze. his voice nearly cracks when he speaks.

“uh... s-see you with your mom again next week?”

“y-yeah... and practice what we’ll say the day before?”

“yeah, of course.”

you’re in such a daze that he’s out the door before you even know it, but he stops to look at you one last time.

“good night, y/n.”

“good night, yeonjun.”

and just like that, you’re left alone to your thoughts.

#txt x reader #yeonjun x reader #txt x you #yeonjun x you #choi yeonjun x reader #kpop x reader #txt imagines #kpop imagines #yeonjun imagines #txt fluff #yeonjun fluff #tomorrow x together imagines #txt fic #txt fanfic #yeonjun fanfic #bhj's 300 follower event 🖤#bhj: violet's works

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coralinnii · 2 years ago

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Hi! I just wanna say I love your villain/ness au 😍 especially leonas part thank you for giving me this story as I was finding stories like this💕💕so I was wondering can I request about the tweel? Their my most favorite in twisted wonderland 🙏 it will be my outmost joy to see you write them!

and sorry if im wrong in writing this request because this is actually my first time writing a request 😅 so thank you for the understanding 😁

Being Reincarnated into a New World as the Bad Guy feat: Jade genre: drama note: set in the same universe as previous works (Azul’s ver specifically), no pronouns were used, villain/ess!reader is not a merfolk, roughly 2k word count

series masterlist

I know there's someone missing but Jade's portion got longer than I expected so I cutting it into separate posts. Floyd's part will be released soon so in the meantime, enjoy as we welcome the fourth vice-housewarden to this surprisingly popular AU.

Sorry 3aemidnight, that this is slightly subverted from the request but Floyd's part has that aspect more played into

You’re screwed. Absolutely screwed. Why did you end up in this situation?? You didn’t even read the webtoon! Your classmate was gushing over a popular webtoon and like a good friend, you lent an ear to her excited ramblings. Her favorite characters seem to be a pair of devilish merfolk brothers. It was that rambling that helped you realize where you were because you didn’t bother remembering the main cast but you couldn’t forget the name “Jade Leech” nor his partner, you.

Or at least the character you possessed that your classmate kept wishing she could be. The lucky duck that became Jade’s betrothed but you couldn’t really agree with that sentiment when she mentioned how that same partner was left behind by the Leech heir and prosecuted as an accomplice to the Leech family’s underground activities.

“What’s so great about the hopeless love trope?!”

Unfortunately, the proceedings for your engagement to the suave marquis heir was set. Putting a wrench into the plans now would cause too many issues to both families. Still, you were determined to leave this crazy story unscathed no matter what.

“Let’s make a contract” were your first words to your soon-to-be partner to which he responded with a curious quirk of his eyebrow. “a prenuptial to be precise”

“But my dear,” a shiver ran down your spine when Jade used that supposedly endearing name, a superficial one of course. “What ever could have scared you to have such worries?”

“Because I know what you and your family are trying to do”

Oh, you have piqued Jade’s interest now.

Your listening skills have paid off as you remembered the plot of the Leech family. The brothers were working to extend their family’s power above the waters and to have an “organized system of connections” with the help of the newly appointed count Ashengrotto. With their intelligence and charm, they wanted to monopolize the marine market from local fishing rights to overseas trading. Unfortunately, the main leads stood in their way and forced the native merfolk to flee to their home, leaving those associated with them to answer for their crimes.

You have no interest in being caught in the crossfire but becoming an enemy to the Leech family is not a favourable situation either. So your best option was…

“I’ll help you”

If you’re going to be accused as an accomplice, better be the best accomplice so neither of you get caught.

The greatest challenge for merfolk on land was the discrimination that was still prevalent, even after the human-merfolk alliance. No matter how charming Jade was, it was hard for the merman to converse with the more narrow-minded noblemen. It was why the Leech heir agreed to the engagement as your family was beloved and highly respected in the kingdom. Your character was just an oblivious, lovestruck pawn to his plans.

“I’ll play the perfect partner, give you the backing you need, the intel you want” you stated your terms, with no room for negotiation. “But, we’re publicly in an arranged engagement only, nothing else. We only meet when necessary and once your family secure the Triton ocean trade route, we’re breaking our engagement and never to speak to each other again”

If the Leech family weren’t caught, they would have returned to their native home anyway and controlled the trading from the safety of the ocean. Either way, Jade would have been out of your life regardless, so you should at least escape prosecution.

You weren’t falling for his gentleman facade, and you definitely refuse to be the one on the short end of the stick in his crazy family’s schemes.

You and Jade were locked in a silent stare down, waiting for either one of you to break the silence. You kept your mouth shut, not letting your nerves talk yourself down. It was this or nothing.

Your gamble paid off. Jade chuckled with a slight peek of his sharp teeth and extended his hand out, piercing your figure with a pair devilish eyes.

“If that is what my dear wishes, how can I decline?”

So sealed your deal with the devil your future ex-fiancé

Some time passed since your agreement, you joined a soirée your family was invited to. As a newly engaged couple, it was expected for you to bring Jade to which he was happy to escort his precious person (you hid your scoff). True to your word, you agree to chat with some of the daughters and wives of certain families for certain intel that Jade needed. While the ladies were more tolerant of the merfolk, they held certain prejudices over them which would affect the conversation greatly should Jade attempt to speak with them.

So off you go.

It was surprisingly easy with the chatty ladies to gather what you needed to know. They were happy to brag about the wealth and connections their families had and the businesses they controlled. The number of employers, the unknowing dissatisfaction of their workers that went over their heads, the obvious limited knowledge over the sea routes…everything came loose from their lips and will inevitably be used against them later on. Once you mentally checked off what Jade requested you to find out, you were patiently waiting to take your leave when someone decided to steer the conversation to something else.

“But enough about our families. How is your life as a newly betrothed, darling?” One of the wives brought the attention to you, which took you slightly by surprise.

“Well, our families were growing close so we decided a union would be beneficial” you smiled as convincing as you could. “While we were arranged, I’m sure it will be an amiable alliance”

“Oh, how lucky you are” one of the younger daughters congratulated as convincingly as her eyelashes were. “To be engaged to someone as distinguished and exotic as Jade Leech, your family connections must have been more impressive than I realize. I knew how enamored you were with the young heir, but to think a frumpy wallflower such as yourself managed to capture him. Good for you”

Any semblance of tolerance you had for these women had just been thrown out the window. Even if you were detached from your host character in every sense, you felt anger building in your body from their haughty words. You quickly glanced to where Jade was and he was standing but with his signature smile and charming eyes engaging in conversation with other attendees, so you assumed he couldn’t hear from where he stood.

It’s not good to hold in your anger… so you don’t.

“Interesting…if I’m a frumpy wallflower as you say, what would you be?” You pondered aloud with innocent tone of voice “bottom feeders?”

Gasps and stuttering replies were let out from the flushing women, flabbergasted by your undignified words, but they haven’t heard anything yet.

“Before my engagement, I often chatted with the current Marquis Leech and he was telling me how he was flooded by persistent engagement proposals for his heir that there wasn’t a day that a messenger wouldn’t visit the Leech residence.”

That was a bold-faced lie about your meetings with the Marquis head but you recalled your classmate’s words of the mountains of proposals the Leech brothers would get, proving their in-universe popularity despite being discriminated against. Well, it’s not as though anyone would question your source, you were engaged to a Leech afterall.

The wives may have been confused but the younger ladies were visibly shaking as they watched you with nervous eyes, either praying you didn’t know the families that proposed or if you did, you’d keep silent over it.

But you offer no such salvation from their humiliation

“Out of the countless proposals, I seem to have been chosen over the ones who reached out first. In fact, some of the interested ladies are here in attendance today, such as Lady-“

You paused abruptly as you quickly back away as one of the single daughters reached for a drink and prepared to throw it into your face in desperation to avoid being exposed. Seems like you pushed a line too far. You closed your eyes, braced for a rude splash…

but nothing came.

Surprised muttering and gasps compelled you to reopen your eyes but you were met with a lean chest and tall looming figure blocking you from the women. You leaned to the side and was shocked to see a large wet spot on Jade's pristine suit jacket, his back and shoulder drenched in champagne. You peeked at Jade's face as he wore his signature smile, appearing calm but you could have swore his jaw seemed more tight and strained as though he’s fighting something internally.

Maybe you’re just reading too much into it.

Any semblance of annoyance you thought you saw disappeared the moment the eel merman turned to face the ladies before. He placed his gloved hand over his heart and smiled as usual.

“I believe this conversation may have gone on too long. Everyone is getting a little too tired and reckless. Perhaps we should cut the night short tonight, do you agree?” Jade proceeded to rest his hand on your shoulder, looking at you with faux concern. “Shall we take our leave, my dear?”

Stomping down the involuntary shiver, you nodded and turned to walk away without saying goodbye to the ladies or even waited for Jade to walk with you. At least Jade had some strength to offer a bow and a smile before joining you. However, you didn't notice the way the ladies silently flinched in fear when they saw the dangerous glint in the young merman's mismatched eyes.

“I never realized you had such a fiery tongue,” Jade commented as the two of you make your way to your carriage, to which you clicked your tongue in annoyance.

“So you were able to hear everything” you chose to change the topic. “You better not say anything to your father about what I said today. I needed to use an excuse”

“You needn’t worry, my dear. I’m simply impressed you knew about the proposal letters.” Jade ended his words there, but you knew he was curious to know your sources, especially since it pertains to the ongoings in the Leech residence.

“I heard some things, that’s all I’ll say” you held your tongue beyond that, your eyes relaying to Jade not to prod further, which he conceded.

“Of course. I would never want to upset you, my dear.” Jade smiled at the slight shiver in your shoulders.

“Alright, my turn to ask questions” you stopped in your tracks, forcing Jade to do the same, enticing his curiosity as you always seem to. Your eyes stared at the stained jacket that hung over Jade's arm, having taken it off to avoid the rest of his attire getting dirty. A sense of guilt pinched your heart as you questioned him, “Why did you save me? Sure, I’ll be slightly humiliated but I can just play the victim and ruin them further”

Jade silently stood in his spot, as though he was seriously contemplating his previous actions. But you doubt that because Jade Leech does not do things impulsively. He’s calculating, his movements always premeditated and intentional.

Right?

Then, the ocean-haired man slowly walked closer to you. Carefully, he reached out his gloved hand towards your cheek and wiped a small drop of champagne from your hairline. A minuscule drop must have made its way to your face without your awareness. But Jade noticed. The cold leather glided from your forehead to your ear, to which he crept closer as he leaned down and whispered to you.

“We made a deal, my dear” his smooth voice vibrated clearly into your head and your instinctive shiver came once more from his name for you. “I plan to make good use of you and I will not permit anyone from ruining you before I’m done”

You sealed your fate with Jade, so you must commit to the end.

#disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #twst scenarios #twst imagines #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland scenarios #jade leech #jade x reader #villainess au

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nerdraging4point0 · 1 month ago

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Power Play // Chapter 10 // Hockeyplayer!Noah AU

Header by @ladyveronikawrites

Tropes and tags: RPF:AU hockey player romance, angsty romance, hidden relationship, forbidden relationship, smutty, MF, multiple POV. Content Warning: angsty romance, hockey player shenanigans, locker room talk, smutty, aggressive hockey players, PinV, MF relationship, possessive male, protective male.

This work below is fictionalized ideas and stories involving real people but does not directly reflect their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction.

The gloves are off.

With a frustrated roar, I tear off all my protective gear flinging it across the ice, the clatter of plastic and leather echoing through the stadium as my helmet slams down, sending shards of ice flying in all directions. Chest heaving, I square up against the taller defenseman, my nose nearly grazing the other man's chin as my eyes glare upwards.

The defenseman's face is flushed, his stringy hair matted with sweat that was rapidly freezing in the frigid air. Shoving with the full force of my palms, I refused to be intimidated by the size difference, adrenaline coursing through my veins I shoved again. His papa make contact with my chest sending me backwards and I'm forced to brace myself to keep from toppling over, refusing to back down.

Rage coursed through my veins as I skated furiously towards the other player, my voice erupting in a guttural yell. "You wanna fucking put hands on me, bitch?!"

I had seen him deliberately slap the puck directly at my face as I was guarding the goal, and the sheer maliciousness of the action had ignited a fire within me. That blatant cheap shot was clearly no accident - he was looking for a fight, and I was more than willing to oblige. In that moment, all I could think about was retaliating, of taking my stick and using it to break his face open. The opportunity presented itself when he checked me hard into the boards, causing me to lose my grip on my stick.

Now my hands grasp at fistfuls of his jersey as I yank him down to face level. My balled fist then comes into forceful contact with his cheek as he turns his head.

I continue to throw punches until he reaches up, his hand making contact on my skull just behind my ear. The impact sends ringing in my ears and makes me slightly dizzy. But I refused to let up, my grip on his jersey tightening as we both tumbled down to the ice in a tangled mess of limbs, each of us desperately trying to land more blows on the other.

Bodies are swarming all around me and a pair of arms roughly pulling me back from my intended target. The impact of the strike on my left cheek burns with a sharp, stinging sensation, and I can taste the metallic tang of blood in my mouth. Just moments ago, the only sound I could hear was the thunderous rush of blood pounding in my ears, but now the air is filled with the frantic screaming of the crowd and the shouts of the referees, who are desperately trying to restore order by calling out penalty times and names, urging everyone to settle down.

My opponent is in no better shape, sporting a nasty gash across the bridge of his nose, his teeth stained crimson with his own blood. One of his eyes is already beginning to swell shut from the impact of the blows. I can feel the throbbing ache in my own head and neck, the burning in my cheek now mingling with a strange, numb sensation as the adrenaline begins to wear off.

The refs roughly shove me onto the hard bench, treating me like a wayward child being sent to the corner. Indignation flares within, a desperate urge to lash out by untying my skates and hurling them at the cold, unyielding plexiglass walls. But in the end, all I can muster is a resigned lean forward, elbows propped on my knees as I stew in the searing frustration of my captivity.

Leo McGuire and his clean cut boy look steps into the box, a medical bag slung over his shoulder. Last week, he had been a constant chatterbox, his nervous prattle grating on my nerves, but now that he has grown accustomed to this routine, his demeanor has shifted. No longer does he sound like an idiot fumbling through his words - instead, his tone is calm and measured as he approaches me, attempting to get a closer look.

"Alright, Sebastian, let me have a look." But I refuse to submit, wriggling out of his grasp, unwilling to relinquish even the smallest shred of control. The walls feel like they are closing in, the air thick with tension as I steel myself against the indignity of my situation, desperate to maintain what little autonomy I have left.

I can feel the intense longing and determination coursing through me as I utter those three simple words to him - "I want her."

I know she has engineered this entire situation, this calculated plan to have him take over my care during the games rather than her directly handing me off to various partners. The reasoning is obvious - to avoid raising suspicion about the true nature of our arrangement. But at this moment, I couldn't care less about the intricate web she has woven. All that matters is getting what I want, reclaiming my fox and taking her for myself, right here and now.

He shrugs, unwilling to argue or stand in my way. I watch as he waves her over. She rolls her eyes, a familiar gesture that only heightens my craving, as her ponytail swings rhythmically back and forth with each step she takes towards us. As she steps into the small box she and McGuirre exchanging hushed whispers as he gathers his belongings and departs, leaving the medical supplies behind. Without hesitation, she kneels down and begins rummaging through the box, retrieving gauze, tape, saline, and antibacterial gel. My gaze is transfixed, drinking in every detail of her movements, her expression. Do I really look that bad? No matter - her attention is all that matters.

She begins to gently clean the cut on my left cheek, standing off to the side, carefully positioned so as not to obstruct my view of the ongoing hockey game. It's a considerate gesture, but it's a little late for that - my focus has already been shattered by the intensity of her presence. I glance up at her, and I can't help but notice the lines forming between her furrowed brows as she knits them together in concentration. Her cheek is slightly sucked in as she chews on it, a telltale sign of her focus, as she dabs carefully at the wound on my face.

Suddenly, she lets out a soft sigh, and I sense a shift in her demeanor. "We can't do this," she murmurs in a low voice, her lips barely moving. "I can't treat you and be sleeping with you. It's unethical."

I can't help but feel a twinge of frustration at her words. "So you send the newbie to tend to me then. I knew it," I retort, my words harsher than I intended them to be, my blood still boiling from the intensity of the game.

She responds matter-of-factly, "It's not like I needed to discuss it with you." I can't help but feel a sense of indignation creep in.

"Didn't have the decency to tell me to my face," I fire back.

"I didn't think it mattered," she says, her tone even.

I pause for a moment, letting her words sink in.

"You're right. It doesn't. This," I say, gesturing to the game unfolding on the ice, "this matters. The cup matters. And I'll be damned if some woman is gonna get in my way and mess me up." As I stand up on my skates, towering over her, I can see the glassy, trembling look in her eyes - and my own chest feels like its been cracked in half. I let out a heavy sigh and slump back down onto the bench, muttering an apology that I'm not even sure she hears over the din of the crowd.

However, the others - Jack and Leo- had clearly picked up on the tension. Immediately heading over and stepping into the box with us.

With a protective edge to his voice, Jack gently asked, "You good, Sarah?"

Sarah's response was clipped, her tone betraying the strain of the situation. "Fine," she said tersely, before continuing, "Listen, could you take over for me? I think Sebastian just needs to cool down, and obviously I am not making that any easier right now." The way she emphasized my last name, almost spitting it out, struck a chord within me, a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach as she gathered her belongings and pushed past Jack and Leo, putting as much distance between herself and me as possible.

As I slap my hands against my face, ignoring the sting of pain, I feel the tangled mess of my hair slip through my fingers. It wasn't her fault, none of this was - I was the one who had been so foolish, so reckless in my actions. Yelling at her, when all I really wanted to do was run after her and beg for her forgiveness. I had been so stupid to think this could ever be just a casual thing, a fleeting moment between us. Not after today, not after what had happened.

I could have played it safe, stayed cool and detached, never letting myself think about her during the game. It wasn't the puck to the face that had gotten to me - I could handle that kind of physical pain any day. No, it was what had happened before the game, when the players were circling the ice during warm-ups. I'd been on the bench, retightening my skates, when I saw him skate by, whistling and leering in her direction as she inventoried her equipment.

At that moment, I saw red. She was mine, and no one was going to disrespect her like that, not on my watch. The puck to the face had been my opportunity, my open door to beat the living daylights out of him. All because I had been foolish enough to let my heart get involved, to catch feelings for someone I could never truly have. Now I was left to face the consequences of my actions, my emotions having gotten the better of me in the heat of the moment. I had to find a way to make this right, to apologize and beg for her forgiveness, even if I knew in my heart that I could never truly be with her.

After the game, I couldn't even speak let alone look at my teammates. The throbbing in my head and ache in all of my muscles is a familiar feeling, a badge of honor for the sacrifices I made on the ice. As I stand under the warm spray of the shower, I watch the dried blood from the cut on my cheek and one above my eye mix with the water and swirl down the drain, disappearing into the checkered tile below.

Dressed and barely getting my gear bag over my shoulder, a voice calls out my name - a voice I was dreading to hear.

"Sebastian. My office."

It's Veronica Campbell, the team's tough-as-nails PR director. With her no-nonsense attitude and impeccable business attire, Veronica commands respect from the six-foot-tall athletes she works with, even though she stands nearly a foot shorter than us. Her petite frame is always adorned in sleek black or gray pantsuits, her feet shoved into practical flats rather than the towering heels one might expect.

Letting out a heavy sigh, I trudged through the familiar locker room, feeling the weight of my teammates' eyes following me as I made my way towards Veronica's office.

As I clicked the door shut behind me, I braced myself for the impending confrontation, my mind racing with possibilities. Veronica's commanding voice cut through the silence, instructing me to take a seat across from her. I reluctantly complied, rolling my eyes in a futile attempt to mask my growing anxiety.

"If this is about the fight, it's hockey - people fight. So what is it? I'm suspended, pending investigation. He's filing charges? What?" I demanded, the words tumbling out in a frantic jumble. Rummaging through the papers on her desk, Veronica produced two small packets, each with a neon green tab marked "sign here" at the back.

"The first is a non-disclosure agreement. I need you and Ms Brody to sign. The second is a treatment plan where Ms Brody will no longer be your nurse on call for any future games, and you will be tended to by Leo McGuire instead." My stomach dropped as her words sank in.

“I-but wait- what?” I stammer out and I see her shoulders slump. Her hazel eyes are heavy, probably from stress and exhaustion.

“ Look, I don't want the details of you and Ms Brody's relationship. I really don't need it. I just need you to sign the non-disclosure agreement and the treatment agreement. If you guys are going to continue with whatever it is, you're doing.”

Veronica sat back in her chair, her eyes narrowed as I contemplated the stack of papers before me.

"Did she bring this up to you?" I pressed.

Veronica paused, considering her words carefully. With a cool, measured tone, she replied, "How the information was presented to me is my business and my business alone." There was an underlying firmness to her voice that brooked no further questions.

In that moment, my mind seemed to completely shut off, operating on pure autopilot as my hand instinctively reached for the pen, signing my name on the dotted line before I even had a chance to process what I was doing. The typed words on the page blurred together, their contents a mystery as I hurriedly scrawled my signature.

“Can I take these with me?” I ask.

“If she consents I need them by Thursday. You have a game and I need everything filed before then.” I barely registered her response, my body moving mechanically to gather up the papers, trying desperately not to crease or damage them in my haste. The legs of the chair nearly tripped me up as I clumsily made my way out of the office.

“But Sebastian,” her voice stops me in my tracks as I turn slowly to look at her. “It's my job to file the paperwork. It's your job to tell the coach.”

Fanclub: @tearfallpixie @ladyveronikawrites @beaker1636 @missduffsblog @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @rumoured-whispers @sorrowsofsilence @mysticdoodlez @sinkingteethinwhitenoise @deathblacksmoke @somebodyels3 @flowery-mess @thisbicc

#bad omens #noah sebastian #bad omens cult #noahsebastian fanfic #bad omens band #hockey player noah #hockey #bad omens au #bad omens smut #hockey romance #hockeyomens #hockey player!noah #badomensau #hockey!au #hockey player x reader #hockeyromance #bad omens bandom #hockey!noah

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mysterious-ocarina · 10 months ago

Text

No Control

marauder!Sirius Black x fem!reader

(A/N 1, im american so i’ll prolly get alot of british slang wrong, or just call stuff by what americans say) ( A/N 2, this is kinda an au where Sirius doesn't move in with James and is stuck with the Black family. I had a lot of trouble figuring out what family to put the reader in that would fit my plot and I just ended up putting you in the nott family. I guess if you really wanna think about it (pls don't think too hard about it), your brother is the father of theo nott?) (A/N 3, check this out if anyone wants an explanation of why i've been gone from tumblr for so long)

Warnings: definitely angsty but with some sprinkles of fluff, lots of mentions of abuse (nothing graphic is shown, it's just described to have happened a lot in the past), this is an arranged marriage trope but not enemies to lovers trope, lots of misogyny (lately i've been feeling angry at the world and it's views of women so here is me trying to comfort myself. Sirius black is a woman lover fr). let me know if there is anything else i need to tag cuz this is my most serious fic yet

Main Masterlist HP Masterlist Requests AO3

(5.6k words)

Sirius Black. A name that's known by the majority of the Hogwarts population. And a face that is known (maybe a little too personally) by many wizards and witches at Hogwarts. But not to you.

You've only ever heard about the notorious Sirius black and the gang of hooligans called the Marauders. You've never got to meet any of them personally. You occasionally would see some of them around, but never Sirius. As a Slytherin, you often ran into his brother, Regulus, but you've never really talked to him either, only ever exchanging pleasantries.

It was actually kind of surprising that you've never talked to the Blacks before. You both came from pure blood, supremacist families and both you and Sirius were known to be a bit rebellious against your families (or just rebellious in general).

But none of that matters, when your parents force you to come home for the holidays and basically shatter your resolve.

At Hogwarts, away from the prying eyes of your family, you were most like yourself. Rebellious, outgoing, funny, and even kind. But under the roof of your family's expensive manor, you were nothing more than a quiet, obedient little girl, who's value was determined by whichever man was in charge of her. The perfect, pureblood daughter.

Just as your mother was and is, you are basically a slave to your own blood, specifically your brother and father. And as soon as you're married (arranged to a pure blood. no doubt, without your consent) you'll have to be an obedient little wife for your husband.

The perfect, doting, obedient, docile, pureblood wife. It was all a load of rubbish, you thought, but you would keep the facade up in order to keep the abuse at bay. You learned pretty early on that speaking up for yourself and speaking out of turn was not going to be tolerated.

You were silently eating dinner with your family. Your father and brother were quietly speaking about matters that even if you and your mother cared, neither of you would be allowed an opinion on.

“Honey, we’ll be having important guests for tomorrow's dinner. So make sure you look your absolute best,” your mother spoke to you. She gave you a sympathetic smile knowing the “show” you both would have to put on in front of guests.

“Okay. Am I allowed to know who these guests are?” you swallowed down your food. You were filled with nerves, thinking about what kind of important guests you were going to have.

Your mother bent down closer to your ear, “I’m not supposed to be telling you this-” she shot a quick look to your father to make sure he wasn’t listening, “but it’s the Black family. I’m not sure why they are coming. All I know is that it’s important business with one of their sons.”

You put your fork down on your plate, placing your hands down on your lap in front of you. You let your thoughts wander and only grew more worried. What kind of important business did one of the Black brothers have with your family? To help a little with your nerves, your mother placed a comforting hand on yours before going back to her meal.

The rest of your night was uneventful after that, until you went to bed. You stayed awake for longer than you should have, your mind way too loud to allow you to sleep. You ran through a list in your mind about the millions of different “important business” that the Black family could have with yours. But none of it made sense why they would eat dinner with us. Usually important business was settled in your father’s study, as it was improper for the ladies to be present.

Eventually, you were able to fall asleep and then the next day would start. You woke up late, which was extremely unappreciated by your brother, who was expecting his morning coffee like usual. You were promptly punished, not only by being woken up by him screaming at you, but also with a beating.

You spent the rest of the day trying to find an appropriate outfit for the dinner that would cover the red marks and newly forming bruises on your arms. Your mother lessened the pain of the marks a little during the day but there wasn’t much else that you could do.

Sometimes when you both sat and drank tea, you would often dream together about running away from all of this. The blood supremacy, controlling men, and just downright evil families. But those thoughts and dreams were quickly quelled when the sound of the men's voices could be heard, calling for the maids- I mean women.

Both you and your mom knew, these were only dreams. It was impossible for purebloods to leave the life that they were born into.

You and your mother waited in the foyer, waiting for the guests to arrive. Your dress was rubbing against the lashes on your skin, making you scratch your arms in irritation but soon stopped when your mothers hand landed on yours.

“You’ll only make it hurt worse. Plus, you know you can show any discomfort in front of the guests,” she said softly. She was trying her best to sound comforting but it only served to remind you of the show you both are forced to put on and the lives you’re stuck living.

A knock was heard and muscle memory forced wide, fake smiles onto both of your faces. Your mother opened the door and welcomed the Black family, “Good evening Mr. and Mrs. Black. I hope you had safe travels here.”

As soon as they crossed the threshold, you were in front of them offering to take their coats. They handed them to you as Mrs. Black spoke, “Thank you for having us, Mrs. Nott.”

“My daughter will show you to the dining room while I finish up making dinner,” your mother informed before quickly making her way towards the kitchen.

After you finished hanging up Mr. and Mrs. Black’s coats, you finally had the chance to look at the two Black brothers. Being in his house, you immediately recognized Regulus, who gave you a tight smile. You then looked over to who you assumed was Sirius.

He certainly was as attractive as the girls at Hogwarts always seemed to make him seem. But he wouldn’t make eye contact with you. He was looking toward the ground, still keeping his posture ramrod straight. He had the same look and body language as someone who had just been beaten for disobedience. A look you were familiar with.

Before anyone could get angry with you, you spoke up, respectfully, “If you would follow me, please.”

With your head down, you brought the family to the dining room. Your father and brother both stood up to shake hands with the Blacks. You stood behind your seat, waiting for the men to sit down first. Your father and Mr. Black sat down and engaged in conversation. You watched Regulus take the chair next to his father and looked to see where Sirius was. You were surprised to find him right next to you.

You backed up, unsure why he was standing there. Of course, you would give up your seat if he asked you to. But all he did was pull the chair out and motion for you to sit down. You sat down and thanked him as he pushed the chair in, “Thank you, young master Black.”

In the corner of your eye, you saw your father give a nod at your use of the title. Salazar, you sounded like a damned house elf. But that was the proper way you were to address him.

Sirius scrunched his nose at the title but gave you an understanding smile, “You’re welcome.”

He surprised you once more by taking the seat directly next to yours. You kept your mouth shut, knowing it was best to keep your curious thoughts to yourself, but you did shoot him a kind smile.

Dinner started without a hitch, conversation mostly being between Mr. Black and your father, your mother and Mrs. Black conversing a little bit with each other too. You, your brother, and both Black brothers mostly stayed silent and ate the meal.

Throughout the entire dinner, when nobody was looking, you had been rubbing at your irritated arm in discomfort. You don’t know how long Sirius had noticed but he grabbed your hand under the table just as you were going to bring it back up again. He continued to eat his meal with his other hand, looking like he wasn’t holding your hand under the table at the moment.

At your confused glance, he leaned closer to your ear, whispering, “I know what you’re doing. It’s just going to make it hurt more, the more you keep messing with it. Just squeeze my hand instead.”

He went back to eating, glancing around to find that no one noticed him whispering to you. You squeezed his hand a bit hard as you went back to eating too. Instead of wincing or doing anything to show discomfort, all he did was rub his thumb soothingly on yours.

The butterflies Sirius stirred up in you was enough to distract you from your irritating arm for the rest of the dinner.

“Now,” your father started, rubbing his napkin on his mouth and setting it down on the table, (the universal sign for “stop eating and listen to me”). “Mr. Black and I have recently come to an agreement.”

Sirius squeezed your hand in comfort as his father spoke up, “Seeing as Ms. Nott is the same age as my Sirius, we have arranged for the two of you to be married. It will be after the both of you graduate from Hogwarts.”

Those words echoed in your head as you looked up to the two fathers in shock. Your silverware clattered as it fell from your hand onto your plate. You must have been breaking the bones in Sirius’ hand, holding it as tight as you were.

Despite the fact that you knew it was a bad idea, your adrenaline forced you to speak up, “You can’t do that, father. You can’t just force me to marry someone that I just met.”

The tears in your eyes didn’t fall, years of “training” keeping them from falling.

Your brother gave you a harsh glare at your disrespect. Suddenly your father stood up, slamming his hands on the table. Staring straight at you, his commanding voice not loud but still thundering all the same, “I can, and I will. Do not forget your place in this family and this world. You will do as I say until you are married. Then you will be your husband’s to command.”

In a haste, you let go of Sirius’ hand, placing your hands on the table to stand up. Sirius, thinking quickly, kept you from getting up by grabbing your legs under the table. That didn’t stop your mouth from speaking harshly, “I am nobody’s to command or control.”

Before you could say anything more, your father reached across the table and slapped you across the face. You held your cheek in shock. He’s hit you before but never in front of guests. The entire table sat in shocked silence.

You looked down at your lap, willing your tears not to fall. You noticed Sirius’ hands clenched in his lap, he looked like he was shaking in anger, but his face had a practiced neutral expression. Regulus’ eyes were wide as he looked at you but had no other reaction at the scene that just transpired. The both of them knew not to speak up.

Your brother had a satisfied smirk on his face. You could just hear the thoughts in his head right now. Thank Salazar, someone put her in her place, his face screamed.

Your father sat down and looked towards Mr. Black, “I’m sorry for my daughter’s behavior. I hope you can forgive me for her impudence.”

Mr. Black simply waved his hand in dismissal, “It’s alright. I understand how women are.”

Picking up his whiskey glass, your father sighed, “It’s a shame we can’t put off the marriage to fix her. Maybe your son will be able to crack her.”

Mr. Black took a swig of his whiskey too, “We can only hope. If not, I can think of a curse that surely helped to fix up my Sirius.”

Sirius tensed up next to you. Your father had never used the Cruciatus Curse on you, but it was clear what Mr. Black was referring to and your father seemed to quite enjoy the idea. The two men simply laughed as if that curse wasn’t named an Unforgivable Curse. They laughed, as if your pain was nothing more than entertainment to them.

The dinner went back to normal for the two men and your brother, not noticing the tension felt between the rest of the group. This time, you grabbed Sirius’ hand under the table and rubbed it soothingly. He let out a shaky breath and squeezed your hand.

Losing your appetite, you spent the rest of the meal sitting in silence, holding hands with Sirius. Your thoughts ran completely wild. You were going to be married to him, for the rest of your life, and you had only spoken once. You didn’t even speak. He whispered to you and you listened. Thinking more about it, there are worse boys that you could have been forced to marry.

At Hogwarts, Sirius was known for being rebellious and against his family's traits and values. Salazar, the boy was sorted into Gryffindor, the opposite of his entire family. But what if that was just in the public eye. You didn’t know anything about Sirius except for what you’ve heard from others. For all you knew, the moment you and he were alone, he would revert back to his family’s pureblood values and abuse you just as most pureblood husbands did to their wives.

No, you quickly thought, stop it. You tried to think about the entire situation with a rational head. Throughout the entire dinner, he did nothing harsh towards you. He offered comfort when your arm was bothering you. He kept you from standing when you argued with your father (who knows how much worse the situation could have escalated if you actually, physically stood up to him). He did his best to offer you comfort without your families knowing it.

He’s not an abuser, you rationalized with yourself. You felt the way he tensed up at the mention of the Cruciatus Curse. He would not be like your father or your brother.

After dinner, you were sent straight up to your room. Before you were separated, Sirius softly spoke to you, “Don’t worry, darling.”

His smile reassured you by a fraction, as you got ready for bed. Maybe all of it won’t be so bad.

You didn’t see Sirius, or his family, at all the rest of the holidays. The next time you did see him was on the train back to Hogwarts. You were simply looking for an empty carriage to settle in, when you noticed Sirius coming towards you.

He grabbed your suitcase and brought it to what you presumed was the carriage he was going to be in. You simply followed him, shrinking under the glare that some of his fangirls were throwing your way.

Once the door was shut and you were alone, he finally spoke up, “So, how are you?”

You sat in the seat opposite of him. You were unsure how to proceed, so you took the safe option and responded, “I’m fine, master Black.”

He opened his mouth in shock, before quickly wiping the look from his face, he basically pleaded, “Please don’t call me that.”

“But-” you went to protest, but he cut you off.

“At least, don’t call me that when we aren’t near our families,” he dismissed what you were going to say. All you could do was stare at him. It really did seem he wasn’t like his family.

Growing embarrassed under your stare, he shyly spoke back up, “I hope you know that you can act like you normally do when you’re around me.”

You looked away from him, face flushing, “This is how I normally act.”

He leveled you with a look, “We both know that’s not true. I don’t know you well but I’m sure you have a number of choice words to call me.”

Seeing the amused smirk on his face, your facade broke. You slightly smirked right back at him, “I don’t have any words to call you… Our fathers on the other hand…”

Sirius’ smirk turned into an almost awestruck smile. Before he could say anything back at you, a gaggle of boys had burst into the carriage.

“Pads, you’ll never guess who sent me a letter during break,” James Potter excitedly said. He went to sit across from his friend only to just now notice you. You gave him a sweet smile.

“Who’s this?” James asked, sitting next to Sirius and throwing his arm around him.

Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin followed James into the carriage, taking their seats. Everyone gave you curious but welcoming looks.

Sirius gave you a look, which you nodded to.

“Put up a silencing charm. I’ve got a story to tell you,” Sirius replied, causing the boys to perk up.

The next hour or so was spent with Sirius explaining your arranged marriage to his group of friends. You were relatively silent, not yet comfortable talking to his friends. He left out the parts where you were abused and berated but didn’t spare the details of his own abuse. It seemed he was comfortable sharing what he goes through to his friends. And evidently you too, since you were there listening too.

This was how you found out that he knew about the betrothal before you did. Apparently, he found out just moments before going to the dinner. He tried to refuse his father (the same way you had, you noticed) and received a beating for his insubordination. That would explain the look he had when you first saw him.

You cringed a little, hearing that he was hit but he gave you a reassuring smile. His friends were also really kind and sympathetic to the entire situation. No wonder he seemed comfortable sharing his familial trauma with them, they were extremely supportive.

“Can they really do that?” James questioned, from next to Sirius.

You sighed and crossed your arms, “Unfortunately, yes. There isn’t anything that we can do to avoid it.”

Remus looked up thoughtfully, “Is it possible for you guys to run away from your families?”

You thought about it, “Hypothetically, we could run away from our families and the blood supremacy world, but it would be extremely difficult.”

Sirius spoke up, “Trust me, I’ve debated it my entire life. If we ran away from our families, no doubt we would be financially cut off from them.”

You added, “Not only would we have to somehow have enough money for a place to live, but we would also need to find a job, to keep the place to live. And trust me, families like ours have a lot of power in the wizard world. One word from them, and no one would want or be able to hire us.”

Peter muttered, “That’s horrible.”

Sirius sighed and slouched in his seat, “You’re telling me.”

“Thinking about it, Sirius, you need to put your womanizing ways away. A married man shouldn’t be parading around with any woman that gives him attention,” you added with a teasing smirk.

“You make me sound like a cheap whore,” Sirius replied with a pout.

“You’re not?” James was quick to rebuttal, causing you to laugh at the offended face Sirius gave the both of you. It didn’t take long for the entire group of you to dissolve into laughs and giggles.

Sirius smiled at you, teasingly, “Well how about you? I’m sure your long line of lovesick fools will end up sobbing at the news.”

You glared playfully at him, “I don’t know any lovesick fools. I actually swore off dating a long time ago so this doesn’t affect my love life at all.”

Remus looked at you in bewilderment, “Went from swearing off dating straight to marriage.”

“Quite the jump,” you simply offered in reply. “At least I’m stuck with Sirius and not some blood supremacist twat like my brother.”

“That is true,” Remus reasoned. “You could have been forced with someone who actually believes the rubbish their parents feed them.”

You felt comforted by Remus' words, confirming that Sirius wasn’t like both of your families.

The rest of the train ride was spent getting to know each other. It wasn’t hard to become friends with Sirius and his buddies. The longer you spent with them, the more comfortable you became with the idea of becoming Sirius’ wife. Don’t get me wrong. You still didn’t want to be forced to marry someone that you didn’t know or love, but you were comfortable knowing that he felt the exact same way.

Who knows? Maybe you could fall in love with Sirius the same way a plethora of other girls had.

The rest of your seventh year at Hogwarts went alright. It didn’t take long for rumors to spread that you and Sirius were to be married but for the most part, the gossip didn’t bother either of you that much. It’s not like the rumors were false, so what was the point in denying anything.

The only downside was the threats that a multitude of Sirius fangirls made in your direction. Nothing too serious has happened to you yet, but you knew soon enough that it would be too much for the wrong girl. Turns out, that time would come soon enough.

You were eating breakfast in the Great Hall, Regulus sitting across from you. Since he was to be your brother-in-law, the both of you became friends. You would also find out that he wasn’t like his parents either. He just wasn’t as outward of this fact as Sirius was. Watching what Sirius has put up with, he knew that he wasn’t brave enough to rebel and deal with the consequences.

Earlier in the week, a parcel came by owl for you. In it was a Black family heirloom, a wedding ring. You were told that you had to wear it from now on, even though you guys were still only engaged and not married. Of course, you didn’t argue, though.

You sat staring at the ring. On one hand, you hate what it symbolized. It was your own sick image of slave shackles that tied you down. On the other hand, “It really is quite pretty. If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought Sirius picked it out just for me.”

Regulus looked up at you as you spoke. He was confused for a moment until he noticed you glancing at the ring on your ring finger. He swallowed his toast and took a sip of his black coffee, “Well… I mean, it is charmed.”

You gave him a confused look, which only made him look back at you even more confused. His eyebrows raised, “You don’t know?”

“Know what?” you questioned. You looked at the ring and tried to think of what kind of charm it could have been.

Regulus smirked back at you, “Well, Mrs. Black-” you glared at him, only making him smile harder at you, “-When the ring was first made for our grandmother's grandmother, or some other old bat, it was put under some kind of spell.

“It was always meant to be an heirloom and it was charmed to always look the way that the husband, the male with Black blood, wanted it to look. Hypothetically, it was supposed to be a symbol of great love because the husband should know what kind of ring their wife would like to wear. But with our family being the kind of family it is, it was mostly only ever worn as a symbol of possession.

“Rarely, did the husbands care enough about their wives to know what kind of ring they would like to wear,” Regulus finished his story. He was giving you an unreadable smile.

You stared back at him, your expression almost as unreadable as his, scoffing at him, “Well most jewelry is going to be pretty.”

“Yeah, but doesn’t that look like the perfect ring for you,” he smoothly replied.

You simply ignored him, finishing your breakfast. You did your best to ignore the fluttering feeling in your chest at the thought that Sirius knew what your perfect ring would look like.

The ring on your finger only served as a reminder to all the girls at Hogwarts that you were to be Sirius’ wife, a fact that was not very well received by the female population. Before you had the ring, the most that would be thrown your way was dirty looks and glares, something you could easily handle. But as more and more people noticed the ring on your finger over the next week, the more serious it became.

You started to receive so much hate mail, that you started to only ever open up letters if they had the official Nott or Black seal. Most of the letters only said foul things to you. Not many people were aware of the arranged part of the marriage, mostly only pureblood Slytherins and Black’s friends knew about that, so a lot of the letters consisted of them berating you and wondering how you got the notorious Sirius Black to fall in love with you (A love potion being the most common guess. Because why would the perfect Sirius Black want to be with a nobody girl like you).

People really are dense these days. How could people possibly jump to any sort of conclusions when no one has ever seen you guys kiss… or even hold hands for that matter. The both of you were friends by now, of course. But that’s it. You guys didn’t just magically fall in love now that you are betrothed.

Well… one of you wasn’t in love. Over the course of getting to know Sirius more for the past few months, feelings did start to stir within you. But you always tried to squash them down as soon as you felt them. Which only made you hurt more.

You were going to get married… without your consent… to a guy that you’ve started to truly care for… despite the fact that he could never care for you the same way. It was all kind of sad, when you really thought about it.

You thought about how you were probably, inadvertently, just a symbol of his slavery to his family and their beliefs. Just as he was inadvertently a symbol of your slavery to your family and their beliefs.

But you were able to look past that. So maybe he would be able to look past it too and see the silver-lining to this whole thing.

Breaking out of your thoughts, you muttered a quicked Incendio at the pile of hate mail in front of you, burning it to ash. Slipping your wand back into your robes, you continued to eat your dinner in relative peace.

If only it could’ve stayed in peace. Two girls, a Ravenclaw and a Hufflepuff that you didn’t even recognize, sat down on both of your sides. Your confusion was apparent, only widening the smirk on the two girls' faces.

Understanding what was going on, you rolled your eyes, “Do you guys need something?”

“What’s your secret?” the Ravenclaw girl inquired.

You simply continued to eat your food, unaffected by their intimidation. Dryly, you responded, “Whatever could you mean?”

The girls looked at you in disgust, before the Hufflepuff spoke up, “We want to know how you got someone as amazing as Sirius Black to fall for you. I can’t think of anything good about you.”

With another roll of your eyes (if you had a galleon for everytime you rolled your eyes because of these kinds of girls, you would be rich) you cooly replied, “Have you tried, having a personality? I’ve heard it does wonders in making people like you.”

Both girls huffed at your attitude before standing up. The Ravenclaw haughtily informed you, “You better watch your back, Nott. Wouldn’t want anyone to damage Sirius’ goods.”

Using her wand, the Hufflepuff spilled sticky juice all over you, leaving you floundering in shock. You sat for a second seething in anger, only growing more furious as the gross liquid seeped more into your clothes.

By now, most of the great hall was already watching what had happened but at the glare you threw at everyone, people were quick to go back to minding their business.

You got up quickly, making your way out of the Great Hall. You heard footsteps behind you and someone calling your name but you were too blind with rage to bother turning around to find out what they wanted. You had had enough of the girls in this school looking down at you for something that wasn’t any of their business.

You were almost to the girls washroom, when Sirius grabbed ahold of your arm. You quickly whipped around, seething, “What the hell do you want, Black?”

He faltered, unsure how to handle what was happening, “I saw what happened. Are you okay?”

You glared harshly at him, “Do I look okay to you?”

Gobsmacked, he hesitantly replied, “Well, what can I do?”

“Oh gee, Black,” you spit at him. “Maybe you could fix your fanclub who seems to think that I’m Satan incarnate herself.”

Your anger in the moment kept you from thinking rationally, you mocked, “Oh perfect Sirius Black. He’s so hot and amazing. How could a slag like you end up with a man like him?”

Sirius stood, shocked at your outburst but kept silent and let you continue to tear at him, “I’ve heard it all, Black. Your little group of fangirls are so deep into their delusions that they can’t even see that we aren’t in love. The only thing that they are capable of seeing is that I’ll be your wife, consensual or not.

“Those girls don’t even realize the pain it brings me that I’m forced to do this. Those girls don’t see the pain my family has put me in, time and time again. Those girls don’t see the pain they cause me with their vitriolic jealousy,” You finished your rant off, poking at his chest with each sentence. Breathing deeply after explaining how this all made you feel, you watched as he processed everything you said.

He seemed unsure of how to continue, until anger and what looked like insecurity started to cover his face. He moved your hand away (very lightly, you noticed) and started to step towards you as he raised his voice back at you, “Well what do you expect me to do about literally anything about this situation. I’m sorry that having to marry me is the worst thing that ever happened to you.”

“Sirius,” you sighed, regretfully.

But he was quick to continue before you could, “No, you got to tear me out, so now it’s my turn. Trust me, this hurts me too. I know how horrible our families and their rubbish traditions are. You are just as familiar with the abuse as I am, meaning that you know just as well as I do, that there isn’t anything that either of us can do against this.”

He took a step back and a deep, calming breath. He looked at you with an expression that was unreadable, “I wish there was something, anything, that I could do to help us feel less trapped but there’s nothing to do.”

You took a step closer to him, “Nothing about you, is the worst thing to ever happen to me. Really, if anything, you’re the best thing to happen to me. It’s because of you, that I feel less alone.”

At your admission, Sirius let out a breath of relief, as if you just lifted the world off of his shoulders. Was he really that worried about being a burden to you? You spoke up again, “I’m sorry for yelling at you. None of this is your fault and I shouldn’t have let my anger out on you.”

Sirius sighed, muttering the scourgify charm. The sticky juice was instantly cleaned off you and you already felt a little bit better.

Sirius grabbed your hand, holding it in both of his, “It’s alright. I understand what you’re going through. But we can get through this together.”

“You’re right,” you responded with a soft cry. You fell into his chest and softly cried out your frustrations. Sirius stood there, soothing you as best as he could, unwilling to let you out of his embrace.

“How about tonight, you meet me in the astronomy tower? We can do whatever, it doesn’t matter what. We can just hang out and forget about our families for once,” Sirius offered. He still had his arms around you in comfort.

Once your sniffles subsided, you hugged him just a little bit tighter, “That sounds amazing, Sirius.”

(A/N, I was thinking of doing a part 2 if you guys are interested. I was thinking it would be after the marriage but you guys still dance around the feelings you have for eachother. maybe you guys find a way to run away together too. i dont really know, yall let me know what you think)

#sirius black #marauders #marauders era #sirius black x you #sirius black one shot #sirius black fluff #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black x reader #female reader #fluff #fanfiction #arranged marriage #angst

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shoyoist · 2 years ago

Text

— 𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐎 𝐆𝐎𝐙𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐔 !! : baji keisuke.

content: fem!reader. college au. strangers to friends to lovers trope. baji is a delinquent, still. reader is implied to be rich and rather innocent. ~ fingering. spit. manhandling, slight breeding kink, mating press, raw sex, rough sex, praise.

word count: 4.6k

⠀⠀⠀⠀— . ｡˚ ♡ what happens when the sweet lil honors student decides to be nice and help the failing college student/delinquent out?

when baji makes it into college, it's by the slimmest fucking chance. he barely makes it. but baji's always been one to follow through with what he's set his eyes on doing — so by no means is he going to flunk out of college once he's got in.

he's struggling, though, and it's no help that most of the other students are a little wary of him. there’s nobody around that’s willing to lend him a hand. but that’s warranted, you suppose.

he is after all, a delinquent with a ton of street cred on his back, and has made a name for having a complete lack of hesitation to use his fists to make his way out of any given situation.

he looks it, too — and rumors are always strengthened by appearances.

he's got those wild, sharp eyes and that whetted smile, and he's a big guy. muscles showing through the thin shirts he shows up to classes in, his toned thighs and calves on display at the behest of the tight leather pants he always wears.

the chains and rings he wears, and the booming motorcycle he rides just makes his deadly image more refined — not to mention the fact that he's already picked more than a couple of fights on campus his first semester.

but you see how he tries so hard in class.

you've never spoken to baji keisuke in your life before — but today is the start of the fourth week in a row that you've walked into the library after class, to see baji sitting at one of the tables by himself, surrounded by books as he stares at a printed question sheet with a scowl on his face.

as an honors student, a soft spoken girl that takes her father's car to school every day, and dresses in pastels and skirts, you're the opposite of baji keisuke in every way. you're nervous, and unsure if he'd even listen to you, or just laugh your words off and render you unable to ever meet his eyes again.

but you do it anyway. you walk up to him where he's sitting at his usual table, and clear your throat. "baji?"

and when he looks up, features so sharp and rugged, the pen he's twirling in his hands so tiny compared to his large palm and fingers, your breath catches in your throat — but you speak up anyway. "hi. i'm from your class?" you say, giving him a smile.

"whaddya want?" he asks, after almost a full minute of looking you up and down. you feel nearly insecure as you stand there and wait, wondering if he doesn't like the look of your plaid sweater, your cute boots or your skirt.

you open your mouth to answer him, but he cuts you off — "you wanna hop on my dick or somethin'? because if so, scram."

"no!" you blurt out, feeling your face heat up in an instant. he raises a thick, questioning eyebrow at you then, and you stutter, trying to form your sentences back on your tongue after his embarrassing accusation. "i— i just wanted to know if you'd like some help!"

"huh?" baji grunts, putting his pen down. "what's that mean?"

"with your work!" you say, gesturing to all the books laid out on the table. "you know? i've seen you here a lot recently, working on your homework and stuff. so i just wanted to ask if you wanted some help."

"with my studies?" he asks, like he's still unsure. and when you nod, you see his eyes slowly light up — because even baji knows you’re one of the smartest students. "really? ya wanna tutor me?"

"not for money or anything." you quickly affirm, in case he lands another quip about how he doesn't have money to give you. "just ... as a classmate. as a friend. we could be study partners, if you like."

"study partners, huh." he muses, resting his chin on his fist as he thinks about it. then, he gives you a grin (that automatically makes your heart flutter, because god, you can't deny it — he's hot). "sure."

he pats the chair next to his, offering you a seat, and you take it.

hence, you started on your semester long journey of being baji's study partner, making fast friends with him and finding out that he's a sweet, funny guy alongside the rough, loud personality he's got.

your curiosity on why a gangster like him would try so hard in college, or wish to attend school at all, is satiated when eventually, he tells you about his domestic dreams of building a cozy little life for himself, opening up a pet shop, perhaps expanding it into a vet clinic if he can pass his course and get licensed.

baji’s ambitions are only strange to you for the first half of your time with him. the more you get to know him, the more you realize that his rugged, untamed appearance and personality is all just who he is on the surface level.

apart from how surprisingly cute he is when he’s learning, he's so nice to you — walks with you to class, offers to drive you on his bike to this really good coffee place he knows during breaks, brings you a little gift on your birthday — and by the end of the semester, you're sure you've about fallen in love with him.

and thankfully, with your help, his grades do go up.

he scores well enough that he manages to pass and secure his spot in college for another year — and though his achievement was not much compared to your top results, he's so happy about it.

"princess," he says (because he calls you princess now) as he flops onto the couch in your bedroom (because somewhere in the midst of the semester, you've also moved your regular study spot from the library to your house). "have i thanked ya properly for all your help yet?"

"what do you mean?" you ask, perched on the edge of your bed, watching him manspread, feeling proud when he shoots a satisfied glance towards the marksheet laying on the couch beside him.

"i mean," he sighs. "i gotta thank you, right? you're savin' my life here."

"by studying with you?" you giggle, and he meets your eyes with a lazy tilt of his head, watching as you smooth your skirt out over your knees. the early winter sun that pools into the room through the window is watery — but the light catches in his bright gaze anyway, increasing the intensity of his stare. "it's okay. you've bought me enough coffee over the days to pay me back, i think."

there's a moment of tense silence, before he gets up from the couch, and walks over to you.

when he stops only a foot away from your seat on the bed, and asks, "is the door locked, princess?" you feel a shiver crawl up your spine — but you nod, assuring him that the door is locked.

and with that, he climbs onto the bed on top of you, pushing you down onto your bed.

your heart jumps, as your back hits the mattress, his hands coming down to dig into the sheets on either side of your head, as he grips them to hold his weight over you.

"can i thank you?" he rasps after a second, voice soft — hovering over you with his lips only inches away from your own. your heart picks up pace, and your pulse hammers in your ears as you fight to keep eye contact with him. as you try to think of an answer.

and well, fuck, you never thought something like this would happen, when you first took pity on the delinquent in your class, and offered to help him with his studies.

you were just being nice — but as you’d just been thinking of a moment ago, over the course of the time you've known baji, you've found out that he's got so much more to him than his delinquent’s face.

you know he’s gentle with animals, that he works so very hard to be the best he can be, and that he's a loyal friend. you know he likes peyoung yakisoba, and that he secretly reads shoujo manga. you know he prefers your red hair ties over your pink ones. you know the most important thing to him is that his mother is happy (and you know what they say. a man who's good to his mother, will be good to his wife).

you really do like him. so you nod once more, but he sees the hesitation in your eyes, so he asks again. "is this really okay?"

you blink up at him, once or twice, before gathering the courage to ask. "baj— keisuke. do you like me?"

"i do." he replies without a beat missed, gaze bright as he locks it with yours. and just those two words cause your heart to warm up so many degrees, an instant shot of delight — but you ask again. "really?"

he licks his lips, seeming a little nervous, now, as he hovers over you. "really." he says. his heat spills into you through the minute distance between your bodies, as he collects the words onto his tongue. "i fuckin' love you, princess. never thought i'd be such a sap for someone, but i am. i like you, a lot. i want you."

it's strange — because although you love him, you've never thought he'd return your feelings.

you've always thought and decided that things would end as quickly and smoothly as they'd started. that you'd help him, and he'd receive your help, and that would be that. but now, the situation's changed. in an instant.

a little voice at the back of your head wonders that hey, maybe this is just the delinquent taking his chance with the unassuming, innocent little girl in his class — but you brush the thought aside. you’re not stupid. you know baji’s a good guy.

you swallow, throat going dry as you realize what will happen once you answer. "i like you too, keisuke. in fact, i think i'm in love with you, too."

baji laughs at that, an affectionate little heh, leaving his lungs before he takes in another breath. "can i kiss you, then?"

"you can do whatever you want." you say.

and instantly, he's kissing you.

it’s almost too quick, his tongue pushing hungrily past your lips and coiling with your own, searing and needy as his hands clutch your waist, crawling under your top to feel up your skin, soft and supple under his calloused grip.

a mewl falls from your lips when his fingers brush against your tits, and he moves his hand back to that spot, giving the soft flesh a squeeze and laughing when you gasp, your body rocking under his.

your own hands lift up, somewhat unsure, to palm at his muscled chest, tugging experimentally at the hem of his shirt. "take it off," he grunts, into your mouth. "hah, never been touched like this before, have you?"

"haven't." you mumble shyly, and baji's eyes glow dully when he hears it. he yanks the top off of you, and you feel vulnerable as you squirm on your bed, wearing nothing but your skirt and panties as he ravishes you with his eyes. "yeah? gonna show ya how good lil' things like you should be treated, then." he says, placing a hand on your thigh and feeling how you shiver at the touch.

he doesn't move it before you pull his t-shirt off for him, coaxing you to go ahead and do it, and allowing you to run your eyes over his muscled torso for a bit. then, his hand inches up your thigh as he kisses you again, fingers so large and thick as he makes his way between your legs. "so pretty f'me."

"mm," your face burns again, the same way it had the first time you ever spoke to him, and he'd asked you that embarrassing fucking question — but it's funny, since what he said is now about to come true. in a way. "y—you, too."

"aww, princess thinks i'm pretty?" he coos, and laughs harder when you cover your face with your hands, unable to meet his eyes as he teases you. "fuck, you're so cute. lettin' the gangster boy fuck you after you help him pass in school, eh?"

"i— this wasn't my intention." you whine, but baji cuts you off by pressing a thumb against your clothed clit — and it's even more embarrassing when your body automatically jolts, thighs closing around his arm as you flinch in reaction to the sudden stimulation. "yeah, but ya like how it's goin', mhm?" he grins, showing off those canines again, and fuck.

"i do," you breathe, as he keeps his thumb over your clit, rubbing little circles into it and making it throb. it's hard to focus when he's doing it, but then he leans in for more kisses, and you've never felt such sweet, yet rough warmth before in your life.

"i know you do." he says it into your mouth, before sliding your panties aside and easing a finger into your cunt. it feels hot, delicious even with just one damn finger, and you moan, the sensation so unexpectedly good. "see? all fuckin' wet 'n i didn't even do much yet."

"please," you kiss him again, curling your hands around his face. "want it already."

"tch, patience, baby." he clicks his tongue, letting just the one finger slide in and out of your slick pussy, and you know he's going to put two in next, and then three, stretching you out just right before he gives you his cock.

and for something you've never thought about much before, you need it so damn bad. with baji towering over you, body so muscled and toned and hands so hot and good, mouth so skilled at showering you with both kisses and praise, you need him like never before.

the chain on his ripped jeans jingles as he pushes his knee between your legs, opening them wider, before he whispers, just like you’d guessed, that he’s going to give you another finger. his free hand grips your fluffy blanket harder, putting more of his weight onto the mattress and making it creak a little. “move up a little, princess. give me some more room.”

so you get further back onto the bed, and he climbs on after you, letting his pants join his t-shirt on the side of the bed, with your own top — the bold black and grey colours so starkly contrasting your bedsheets as he casts it all aside.

“ya hear this pussy singin’ for me?” he chuckles, and the way your cunt gushes harder when he slips a third finger in is so good to him, your face flushing with humiliation, he can’t bother prepping you any further before he gives you his cock.

“she’s beggin’ to have me.” he taunts, loving the way you’re getting so shy and embarrassed, no matter what he does or says. “you do some begging, too, won’t ya? let me hear you.”

and you steel yourself, feeling so full with just his fingers in you, forcing your moans and gasps to be quieter as he curls them in and finds your sweet spots so easily. “want your cock, keisuke. please. need to be filled all up.” he stares at you, doe eyes and swollen lips so pretty as you’re spread out under him, and with a whispered fuck, he pulls his drooling cock out from where it’s been straining under his boxers this whole time.

“see that, princess?” he sighs, relief washing over him as he grips the thick length, allowing himself a few pumps with his fist. “this cock? ‘s all yours.”

baji’s fucking huge — as he grabs your wrist and guides your hand to touch him, you feel the hot, stiff length of him up, and you really don’t know how you’re going to take it.

but you will — oh, god, you will, because you haven’t even felt him yet but you know he’s going to send you to heaven with just his cock.

“want it,” you plead. “I’ll take it for you. if it’s all mine, then give it to me. please.”

“shit,” he groans, when you run your fingers softly down his cock and back up, smearing the precum collecting at his tip onto your fingers as you go. “for someone that hasn’t done any of this, you’re fuckin’ good with your words.”

“‘m a smart girl,” you give him a smile, and his lips are tugged into yet another grin when he sees it. “smart girls know what to say.”

“yeah, yeah you fuckin’ do.” he assures you, before he tugs the panties off you and throws them onto the floor behind, grabbing you by the back of your thighs and pushing them up, your skirt splaying out on your stomach as he folds you in half and reveals your glistening pussy to him.

“let’s keep this skirt on, yeah?” he asks, eyes on your cunt, on your little hole that he’s about to fill right up. “y’look pretty with it on.”

“anything.” you beg, eyes fluttering shut before you open them again, watching as baji’s hair falls in curtains around his face, his brows scrunching together as he frowns in focus, lining his cock up with your cunt. “just want you to fuck me.”

“alright, alright, baby.” he grunts, voice going heavier, as he finally pushes his cock in. first, it’s just the head — and you think the stretch is manageable, that you can take him well enough.

but then he rolls his hips, forces your cunt open and makes you take all of him in, and fuck.

“keisuke! no— no, not so much at once!” you cry, and he’s barely able to answer, with the way your pussy sucks him in so well despite your protest, warm and wet and so god damn tight.

“you’re fine,” he stutters, nails digging harshly into the plush skin of your thighs as he pushes himself balls deep into you, bending you further so your knees are pressed against your chest. “you’re just fine, princess, fuck. look at ya. pussy so pretty all stuffed.”

he stays still for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size, razor eyes going soft and almost dreamy as he feels your walls cling to him, so deliciously hot. when he nudges his tip to your cervix, you flutter around him, and he hisses, precum drooling into you furiously.

you whimper as the pain dissipates and blooms into saccharine pleasure, the rough grip he’s got on you and the thickness of his cock in your little cunt, together with the praise he’s showering you with — it’s enough to make you cum in almost one go.

“you got this,” he pants, pulling out just a little before he pushes in again, the wavy tousles of his hair bouncing lightly with every move. “your pussy’s fine.”

you open your mouth to reply, but no sound comes out, the moan catching in your throat and your eyes rolling back into your head as he finally starts moving. the messy squelching of your cunt with his thrusts would embarrass you, if he weren’t throwing stars into your vision with each slap of his pelvis against your clit. “k—keisuke!”

“shhh,” he exhales, gritting his teeth as he steadily increases his pace, building his way up to his own high. you’ll cum hard enough, even if he doesn’t try too hard, he knows — his cock is big, he knows how to fuck good, and you’re an inexperienced little thing.

a sweet, beautiful, inexperienced little thing.

he watches keenly, biting his lip as he goes back and forth, watching your pretty face, eyes wild with pleasure as you watch how his length sinks into you, and then out, and then back in again.

“c-can i,” he groans, waiting for you to look up and meet his eyes before he continues. “go faster, princess?”

“mhm!” you cry without hesitation despite yourself, so eager to please — so needy to have more, more, more.

and god, he's going to cum, he can feel it as he takes his pace even further — your little pussy's just too tight, too hot 'n wet, it's enough to send a man straight to seventh fucking heaven.

he knows already that you'll be fine even if he gets a little rougher than intended — he sees how your eyes are rolling back, how your sweet lips are stretching into a dopey, open-mouthed smile with each hard hit of his cock at your cervix.

you want it, want it all — you're innocent and pure but god you're a devilish little thing at heart.

he'd treat you nicely, be gentle and take things slow like how he'd planned to do at the start, but you want it so bad, he wants it so bad, and there's just no stopping it.

“open that mouth wider for me baby,” he rasps, and you do it instantly, making him laugh as he gathers a ball of saliva on his tongue and spits it out, watching with a heavy throb of his cock as it lands right on your cute, pink lil tongue. “swallow f'me? hah, atta girl~”

and with that, he gives you the first mean thrust of his cock into your cunt — the squelch of your cunt is loud, only second to your moan and third to the grunt baji can't help but let out, when he feels just how tight your pussy is gripping him.

“relax, princess,” he huffs, the muscled panes of his chest pressing against your tits as he buries himself as far inside you as he can go, before pulling back out and going back in again — filling your lovely little room with the lewdest sounds—

the slap-slap-slap of skin against skin, your fucked out whines with each roll of his hips, and the messy sounds of your pussy along with the breathy groans he's spilling into your ear; it's so, so fucking good.

you're stuffed, and as baji whispers hoarsely with his lips against your cheek that he's gonna cum, you moan again, telling him you're gonna cum too, and you don't know what you're begging for anymore but you beg, “please, please, please, please— mmph!”

and he's kissing you again, muscled body trapping you in place as he pounds into you relentlessly, now in short quick thrusts that offer your sweet, gummy spots another kind of kiss after kiss with his fat tip.

“let me cum in you, princess? can't — can't fuckin' pull out, 's too good,” he groans into your mouth, and fuck, you've never felt this good and this loved and this full before in your entire damn life.

“inside, kei, inside.” you agree, voice all high and breathless, your words falling right onto his tongue as they tangle together when he deepens the kiss. “want your cum in me, kei, please.”

and it's not the hug of your velvet walls around his cock, or the plush, warm feel of your pretty body under his, or the claw of your fingers at his back and his arms that undo him—

but it's the way your voice calls out his name so cutely, saying kei, as you ask him to breed you full, that makes him cum.

the band in his lower stomach tightens and then snaps — and with a low, ravenous growl into your mouth, he cums. “f—fuck.”

his cum is hot, thick, filling your pussy with white and coating his cock in a milky film as he keeps thrusting in and out of you, refusing to slow down even as your own orgasm washes over you and your tiny little cunt clenches even tighter around him, making it almost impossible for him to move.

“mmm, kei! fuck, cumming, fuck, fuck, so good!” you babble, tongue lolling out from your mouth that's parted in your effort to catch your breath, and he'd laugh, chide your language, but you feel so good he's been rendered speechless.

his own mouth is open in silent curses, breath catching in his throat as he fucks his cum deep into you, feeling how your pussy flutters obediently, eating it all right up.

he listens to your cries of pleasure, head falling onto your chest, his cheek squished against your tits as he breathes you in, basking in the hot bliss you're giving him as he smacks his hips into yours sloppily, such a wet mess forming between your bodies — your skirt is soaked.

“fuck, princess, i love ya,” he hisses, as you milk him through. “this pussy's mine and only mine, alright?”

“mhm,” you nod, and he grins, vision cloudy as he looks down at your pretty face. “all yours, kei.”

“can't take that back after ya said it, alright?” he breathes out, hot over your chest. “tell me ya love me, baby.”

“i love you,” you gasp, as he slows down, bringing his hips to a stop against yours and letting go of your thighs so you can tangle them around his waist again. “i love you so, so much, kei, you don't know.”

“hey,” he chuckles, getting pulled into you as he tries to give you a peck on the cheek. “i love you so much, m'kay?”

“no, i love you more.” you pout, and he nips at your bottom lip, teasing the tender flesh with his sharp teeth. “this ain't a competition, princess. i love you the most.”

“mmm,” you huff, knowing that you both should really get up and clean things up, if you're done — but he feels so nice, so warm and heavy and comforting on top of you, and you want to stay like this forever. “sure. i'll let that go, for now.”

baji only cackles fondly at that, giving your swollen lips a kiss and then another on your teary cheek, before laying back with a satiated sigh. “so what are we now? still just friends? study partners, even though you've effectively hopped on my dick now?”

you feel your face get hot at his words, giving his shoulder a gentle slap as you pout again. “no, what you are now is mine. all mine.”

and there's a little pause, before he lets out another chuckle. “bloody hell, you really do fuckin' know what to say.”

“of course.” you smile. “anyway, study sesh at your place tomorrow? same time?”

“hah, what fucking study sesh when the semester just closed, hm?” he grins, and your eyes twinkle as you reply — “mmm, i don't know. a study sesh like the one we just had, maybe.”

and his grin widens, canines flashing as he laughs. “can't say no to that, princess — you're on fire. and by the way, you're mine, too.”

“mhm.” you reach up, tangle your fingers in the thick, dark locks of his hair and pull him in for yet another kiss, smiling at how he shuts his eyes so cutely just before your lips meet. “i know ♡♡ .”

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