#there are a couple of things in common for the three of them | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gojonanami · 9 months ago

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❝ 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ❞

❝ WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU FAKE DATE SATORU GOJO WITH REAL FEELINGS? ❞

✧ pairing: satoru gojo x sorcerer!reader

✧ summary: you can't help but say yes when your longtime crush asks you to be his fake girlfriend for a year to get the gojo clan to stop arranging marriage proposals for him. but little did you know, he would be doing both of you a favor.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, fluff, reader is the same age as gojo, set during s1 of jjk, fake dating hijinks, drunk! gojo, jealous! reader + gojo, implied satosugu (sorta, i see it more in a soulmate way, whether its platonic or romantic), switch! gojo, oral (f + m), deepthroating, handjob (m), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, naoya makes an appearance, gojo clan elders suck, gojo's made up clan responsibilities,

✧ wc: 16,043

✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 6 has been sold to @chuluoyi and an anon!

“C’mon, you don’t know until you try, sweetheart,”

You run at your temples, you didn’t need to feel burgeoning ache of a headache forming to know it was coming — but you knew it would whenever you met with this blue eyed idiot, “Satoru, the last time you said that, you nearly got me killed,” you didn’t care to re-live him sending you on a mission meant for him to take a grade 1 one curse, only to end up fighting two other grade 2 curses along with it.

You were lucky you made it by the skin of your teeth — and lucky that Shoko woke up when you showed up at her door, half dead.

“And this time, there’s no risk of death,” he grins, stirring his sugary drink that counts more as sugar than a drink, “that shows great personal growth, don’t ya think?”

“I think this conversation shows that just because you’re the strongest doesn’t mean you have an ounce of common sense,” you mutter, as you sip at your drink of choice, “Gojo, I can’t marry you — for one, there would be a risk of death — yours,”

“Eh you wouldn’t be able to kill me — you’re far too—“ and you raise an eyebrow, daring him to finish that sentence, “kind,”

You rolled your eyes, “One of the traits you’re looking for in your future partner?”

“The thing is, you wouldn’t have to marry me at all — it would be a big sham!” He said with a thumbs up, as if that made it any better at all, “just for a couple weeks so I can fool the Gojo Clan into complacency and to stop the search for my future spouse — you’d be sparing the hundreds, no thousands, of possible candidates from facing the burden of my rejection,”

“And I suppose the fact that the clan would get off your back is just a fringe benefit?” You sigh, “Gojo, why don’t you just tell them you don’t want to get married?”

“I’ve tried — but the stubborn old geezers won’t budge — I’m caught between a rock and a hard place — and you know me,” his lips curl, “I’m a lover, not a fighter,”

Yup, you have a headache now.

“What would we have to do to convince them we were together?”

Why were you considering this?

“Dates, a few public outings, meeting the geezers because they would insist, and you would need to show your face around the clan compound,” he lists off, sipping at his drink, “there may be other things, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” You may jump off a bridge by the time this is over and done with, “what do you say?”

“I have two questions,” and he leaned back in his chair, back and forth, impatience personified, “how long would we have to do it?” You didn’t want to be stuck in this arrangement for an undisclosed amount of time, but the second question was far more important, “ And why me?”

“Three months, maybe longer,” you gape at him, “I can pay you?” you raise an eyebrow, “I will pay you,” you sigh, “and choosing you was easy because—“

“If you make some sort of joke about me being single, I don’t care if you have infinity, I’ll find a way to murder you,” you grumble.

“Because you’re a sorcerer, you’re from a minor clan — so you’re an acceptable choice, and I trust you — you’re one of my closest friends,” he adds, for once his words are deprived of any humor.

And that answer was…almost worse than the joke. The word “friend” stuck in your side like a thorn you could never pull out, festering and growing until it had become a part of you — that ached only when you thought of it.

Your feelings for him, they were still there? You thought you had discarded them years ago, thought it was safe for you to move back to Tokyo from Kyoto, thought you had finally left that childhood crush behind — dead and buried — but here it was, still stubbornly clinging to life.

And now it would thrive with new roots, stems, leaves, and buds if you agreed to this.

He said your name, “Well?”

He remains as inscrutable as always, But you could never say no to him, could you? “Okay, fine,” it would also help you out in the form of another problem of Naoya Zenin who had been nothing but persistent since you came back…but you didn’t want to dwell on that. Your eyes find Gojo’s again — as they always did.

It was why you had left for Kyoto in the first place.

“Is this really necessary?” you grumbled, as the servants that served the Gojo clan fussed over your clothes — it was a traditional kimono in the colors of your clan — a deep indigo, embroidered with white koi fish that swam along the fabric, embroidered with waves. You supposed you were only grateful that Gojo didn’t leave you to get dressed yourself.

Gojo watched as they adjusted the obi around your waist, and your eyes remained fixed ahead, but your gaze couldn’t help but wander to him. Satoru Gojo was always unfairly gorgeous — there was a reason people fawned over him even when he had just rolled out of bed without even a once over at his appearance — but those same people probably would have passed out if they saw him as he was now.

His formal wear was a sky blue — the same as his eyes, a coat draped over his shoulders and loose trousers of snow white that was a nod to hair of the same color. His hair remained unkempt as it always was.

“Gonna change into that but not comb your hair?” You remark, and he smirks, running a hand through his hair.

“Well I think if I start being too well behaved, they’ll know it’s fake,” and the word sticks in your chest like a dagger between the ribs, as the servants finally finish with your clothes, and you sigh.

You straighten yourself, looking at yourself in the mirror, “How is it only been a couple hours and I’m already exhausted?”

“The suffocating grip of old geezers and their backwards traditions would do that to you,” but his eyes linger on you, “but lucky for you sweetheart, it seems to suit you,”

“Do you have to call me that?” You murmur, cheeks warming, as you pretend to busy yourself with adjusting your clothes in the mirror.

“You have to get used to it,” his footsteps draw closer, heart battering against your ribcage as he does — surely, it would break free of its bony cage by the end of this, as he slides a shiny pendant around your neck — a sliver infinity with a singular small blue gem glinting in the middle — “after all, you are mine now, aren’t you?”

“Gojo, this is—“

“Satoru,” he reminds you, as his fingers brush against your neck as he clasps the necklace, “how will it look if someone overhears you calling me by my last name in private?” And your fingers brush against the necklace, toying with the pendant as you positioned it properly, “do you like it? I had it made especially,”

Especially — the lack of ‘for you,’ stuck out to you, as you force a smile on your lips, “it’s perfect — it will definitely sell the act,” and your eyes can’t find his as he adjusts his sunglasses, “I’m surprised you’re not wearing your blindfold,” you turn to face him, “doesn’t it drain you not to wear it?”

“I can wear sunglasses sometimes — usually I get strange looks if I wear a blindfold in normal society — and here,” he pulls off the glasses as his cerulean irises seem to pierce your very form, “it reminds these old men who holds the cards here,” it was already hard enough for you to meet Gojo’s gaze as it was, it always felt as if he could stare right through you — and now, it felt as it your entire soul was beholden to him, “and as a bonus,” he draws close again, as he holds out his hand for your own. You resist the urge to bite your lip, inside giving your hand as he wished, and he lifts to his lips, before tilting his head to press the back of his hand to your cheek, “now I can look at my beautiful girlfriend unobstructed by these pesky eye coverings,”

You scoff, “You always have something to say, don’t you?” As you try and fail to move your hand away, “Gojo—“

“A good escort should never let their lady walk in without their hand being held, don’t you think?” And you sigh, as he leads you out of the frying pan and into the fire — you only hoped you wouldn’t be burned — your eyes sliding to Gojo again, fingers toying with the fabric over your chest — in more than one way.

“So you’ve gotten yourself a partner, eh, boy?” the elderly man sits with his eyes closed as he sips his tea, steam rolling off the surface in droves, but he seemed unbothered by the heat — perhaps because of the steam coming out of his ears, “I’m shocked,” you kept your gaze down, only had greeting him upon entering — stating your name and clan, before kneeling beside Satoru on a cushion.

“Shocked that someone like me could ever find my match? I know I’m truly one of a kind,” lips curled in that smirk that seemed to annoy almost everyone Satoru Gojo knew — including you — but no one showed the level of irritation that this man showed.

Gojo may be the head of the Gojo clan — but you supposed there were still people he had to answer too, if only due to age and tradition — the two very things Gojo hated the most.

“Why bother respecting those for aging when they haven’t done anything for me to respect?” he had said flippantly to Yaga one day during a lesson, “I rather die young than live to the age of these old coots without accomplishing a damn thing,” and then Yaga firmly smacked Gojo on the head right after, for disrespecting Gakuganji during the sister school exchange event.

And you had a feeling this meeting was about to go as well as that class did.

“Is this serious? Have you proposed?” and you have to keep a straight face, but your cheeks burn.

“Now, don’t embarrass me and my girlfriend,” his fingers intertwined with yours, “but this is serious — she’s the only woman I want to marry — and I’ll do anything to accomplish that,” he leans forward with a smile, squeezing your hand, “because I love her, and I only will ever love her,”

His gaze slides from Gojo to you, eyes boring into your skull, “and do you feel the same?”

You never have been one for lying — lying was an uncomfortable feeling that twisted and turned in your stomach like questionable leftovers that you took a gamble on eating, ones that wanted to come out the same way it went in. But you had learned with time because sometimes it was necessary for a sorcerer to lie, and when it was between telling a lie or dying, you’re forced to become quite adept at things you hate.

And you had learned, as you meet his hardened look, the best lies had some truth ingrained in them.

“I do, Satoru and I went to Jujutsu Tech together, and he’s the only man I ever loved,” perhaps it was too much truth, as you forced your voice to be steady, “he’s frustrating, irritating, full of himself—“

“You don’t have to be that honest—“ Satoru grumbled.

“But he’s also selfless, unendingly kind, a great teacher, and a good person, maybe even the best person I know,” you can’t bear to look at Satoru, “and he’s the only man I want to call my husband,”

The silence lingers in the room for a moment before the old man grunts, “I’ll believe it when I see it,”

“What kind of answer was that?” You asked as Satoru walked you back to the room, his fingers still laced with yours.

“It means we have to make him believe it — but he’ll at least stop arranging these meetings for me with prospectives,”

You raise an eyebrow, “and what will make him believe it?”

He smirks, as he tugs you a little closer, fingers under your chin, “I could kiss you right now, might sell the act,”

“No one can see us,”

“Someone’s always watching,” he murmurs, leaning far too close as your breath catches, eyes widening before they flutter shut and you wait. But instead his lips brush your forehead, followed by a flick, “gotcha,”

Your eyes snap open in a glare, “Gojo!” And he’s cackling.

“Satoru,” he corrects, as his hand leaves yours as he opens the sliding door to the room, “you coming?”

You pout, rubbing your forehead, as you brush past him — this was going to be a long few weeks.

“Why do I even have to go to this?” You were being led through a bustling mall, his arm around your waist, as if to prevent you from escaping (good idea). Your lips twisted in a grimace, you allowed him to drag you along, knowing him, he would carry you over his shoulder without a hint of shame (you don’t think he even contained the word shame in his own vernacular), “can’t you go and wear a ring and go by yourself?”

“A ring is not as good as having you on my arm now is it?” he bumps you with his hip, “plus, we’re not engaged yet, unless this is a proposal,” he raises an eyebrow, and your cheeks burn.

“Shut up, I’d never propose to you,” he laughs, but it’s almost strained.

“Never propose to me like that right? Because I deserve a better proposal than that,” he sighs, leading you into a store, “come on, we have to find you a nice outfit for the wedding,”

You glance at the store, your jaw dropping, “Gojo, this store is so expensive, I can’t afford this—“

He lowers his sunglasses just to show you that he’s rolling his eyes, “Who said you’re paying, Princess?” You stare at him, slack jawed, while a salesperson comes up to the two of you — though she’s clearly only interested in one of you.

“Hi, what can I help you with finding today?” her lips curled in a smile, as she twirled a strand of her around her fingers, “I’d be more than happy to assist you,” her gaze completely fixed on Gojo, without the slightest hint of acknowledgment for you to spare.

You bite back a scowl, plastering on a fake smile, as you lean into Gojo, “My boyfriend is looking to buy me an outfit for a wedding we’re attending — baby, could you tell her what style you want me to wear?”

Gojo glances at you, a flicker of surprise that is quickly covered up by a smirk, his arm tightening around your waist, “Yes, I have to make sure my sweetheart is looking her best — so can you please find these styles of dresses for me?” You can’t help the smile on your lips as the salesperson shuffles away, lips a thin line rather than the grin she once had.

“Didn’t know you were the jealous type,” Gojo chuckles, and you roll your eyes, hoping your expression didn’t give your heart away, the feelings you had stuffed into a crevice of your chest that threatened to burst.

So you choose to turn it on him instead, as you meet his gaze with a small smirk, “I don’t like people taking what’s mine,”

But he only takes it in stride, only as Gojo can, “I’m yours, huh?”

You shrug, choosing to hurt yourself rather than let him do it, “at least for the next two to three months,” and your gaze snaps away and looks to the saleswoman as she comes back with a selection, “if you get to choose my dress, I get to choose a suit for you, deal?”

Gojo raises an eyebrow, but smiles, “Anything for you, princess.”

“You just wanted to see me model for you, didn’t you?” Gojo emerges from the changing room in a black button down and white suit coat with a matching white tie — as he tilts his head, “I would say my best suit is my birthday suit,” and you grimace, “oh c’mon, it was a good joke, although—“

“Don’t say it’s true,” you lean back, phone in hand as you snap a picture as you did for the last three, “I love to see that self confidence of yours has grown into full blown arrogance,”

“How can I not be arrogant when I see you snapping pictures of me?” He crosses his arms, the fabric taut and straining over his chest, the top button undone, showing off the adam’s apple that bobs in his throat, “it’s definitely a step up from when you ignored me,”

You snap from your thoughts, “When did I ignore you?”

“When we graduated Jujutsu Tech, you’d spend time with Nanami or spend a weekend with Shoko, but whenever I was around, you wouldn’t even reply to a text,” your eyes fall to the floor, chewing your lip, “it wasn’t always like that — I thought we were close,”

It was true — but it wasn’t because you hated him. It was the opposite. You had tried to be his friend, but the more you were his friend, the more it hurt — hurt to see him smile at you like everyone else, hurt to see him with his eyes on the one he wanted, and with his arm around Suguru.

And you really didn’t hate Suguru — it was the opposite really — you thought they were perfect, a person who grounded him, made him a better person, and with a much tighter grip on reality than Gojo did — perhaps too tight. Too tight that it shattered apart in his hands, the pieces too far gone to pick out — and too far gone to save him.

You tried to be there for him — knock on his door when you knew he was home and force him to shower while you and Shoko cleaned up his room. You stayed even when Shoko had long left, holding his hand as he hid his tears from you with his back turned, and you didn’t admit you could hear his nearly silent tears. But eventually, it turned into movie nights, meals shared, and even grocery runs.

And it became harder and harder to hide how you felt — each minute spent with him was another drop in a bucket that was already overflowing to begin with. At first it had been a crush — an unattainable crush that you were happy to leave at just that. But eventually, it became so much more — you had fallen in love with him, when you really shouldn’t have. Because he didn’t need a partner — he needed a friend.

“Gojo, I didn’t ignore you—“

“I’ve called you sweetheart, did your number change and then magically change back when you came back to Tokyo?”

But once he had pulled himself together, you were graduating and you requested to be put in Kyoto — your excuse being you were tired being in the city — but to Satoru, you gave no excuse, you quietly left without a word. Because you were really tired of having your heart broken — so you needed space, and you were willing to do anything to get it.

“Gojo, I didn’t really talk much to Nanami or Shoko when I left either, I just needed space—“

“Space from what?” You sighed, parting your lips when his phone rings. He checks it before taking it, “another mission? Yeah, I can leave tonight,” you bit your lip, “send Ijichi to take me to the airport. Yeah, ok,” and he hangs up, “we’ll have to cut this short. I have to go overseas,”

“How long will you be gone?”

“Probably just a few days. I’ll be back soon,” you bite your lip, and he tilts his head, “you worried about me, Princess?”

You flush, opening and closing your mouth, “I am,” and he blinks, seemingly surprised, “come back safe. Text me to let me know when you land,”

His lips curl, as he ruffles your hair, “I will — and I’ll be back soon enough. Promise,” and he pauses, “you want a souvenir?”

“You don’t have to—“

“I want to,” he cuts you off, and your cheeks warm.

And just then, he gets a text, “Ijichi Is almost here. I’ll have him drop you back first,” and he turns to change out of his clothes.

“Satoru,” you catch him by the sleeve, and he pauses, “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you after all of that. It had nothing to do with you, there was just a lot going on—“ he says your name, but you shake your head, “but it won’t happen again, I promise,”

“Good,” he steps back into the changing room, a grin on his lips, “I wouldn’t let you get away this time anyway, sweetheart.”

“Gojo?” You say again, and he tilts his head, “get the indigo suit,”

He grins, “and you have good taste, well, of course you do,” he holds the door open, “I am your boyfriend after all.”

And the door of the fitting room swings shut, and you hope he’s not looking at you, as your cheeks burn, your heart squeezing in spite of every thought of your mind telling not to go there — not to go down that road, but you should have known, the moment you said yes to this plan—

You were already there.

You had never known that the buzz of your phone could make you more happy — or anxious.

But it had been over the course of the last few days. Because you’re probably an idiot, but that wasn’t the point.

how bad of an idea would it be for me to try this Karanga and Chapati place that Yuta recommended?

You snorted, Satoru, the last time you had curry — that wasn’t even that spicy, you couldn’t taste anything for a week.

Another buzz, But Yuta said it’s not so bad

You roll your eyes, imagining the pout he undoubtedly has on his lips — Yuta has never seen you cry over a bowl of curry — stick with your desserts, and you chuckle as you add: you may be the strongest but you have the weakest taste buds

It takes some time for another response to come — and when it does, you realize a grave error on your part was made: never point out any flaw to this idiot because he will take it as a challenge.

This is Yuta — Gojo-sensei tried it and he’s now in the bathroom. He told me to tell you he’d text you later.

This was how the last few days flew by — texts with updates about his mission, his work, and his check-ins with Yuta. And the night before he was flying back, just as you were cooking dinner, he called you—

“Gojo? Isn’t it 2:00 AM there right now?”

“You learned the time difference for me?” you heard his words slur over the other line, “Sweethearttttt,” I went out with Yuta and Miguel, and I may have gotten a littttttle tipsy,”

“Isn’t it like 2:00 AM there?”

He clicks his tongue, “Miguel challenged me to a drinking contest,” and you groan, rubbing a hand down your face, “but they got me back into my hotel room, even though I’m not tired,” he mumbles, as you hear the crinkle of his bedsheets and the rustling of his comforter.

“Have you drank water? How much alcohol did you have?”

“Are you worried about me?” he giggles, before sighing, “I’m glad,”

“Why are you glad?” You hold the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you stir the pan with your dinner currently in it.

“Because it means you care about me,” he murmurs, “everyone who cares about me always leaves,” he gives a small bitter chuckle, “maybe it’s better for you not to care about me. It’s dangerous to care about someone like me — the type to die young or live far too long,”

“Gojo—“

“Satoru,” he mutters, voice growing thick with sleep, “call me Satoru,” and his soft snores fill your ear as he falls into the sandman’s grasp — a small reprieve from his feelings — while you were left to dwell in them.

All this time you had been thinking how you felt, what you were dealing with, what you wanted — and all these years and you hadn’t thought about how your actions made him felt. You thought he was beyond any hurt you could possibly inflict — his infinity meant that he was leagues above anywhere you could possibly reach — but it didn’t.

He wasn’t. He was a person — and when had you stopped treating him as one?

You texted Yuta: make sure your sensei is lying on his side and make him drink some water. And don’t let Miguel goad him into drinking ever again.

Yuta: got it. sorry about that sensei — gojo wouldn’t listen

You scoffed, chuckling at how Yuta called you sensei but did not afford Gojo the same courtesy.

You stayed on the phone with Gojo, hearing Yuta come in and persuading him to drink some water, before he fell back asleep, but even in his drunken state, he wouldn’t give up his phone — Yuta snapping a picture and sending it to you. You laughed when you saw it — loml with a dozen hearts and a picture of you in your obi, clearly taken when you weren’t looking, but it wasn’t those things that made you laugh — it was the way Gojo clung to his phone, fingers wrapped around it desperately, as he slept.

You stayed on the phone with him all night, even when you went to bed — of course just to make sure he’s fine — the call waking you when it disconnected after reaching the max call time. Your eyes flutter open, glancing at the time — 5:00 AM. And almost like clockwork, your phone rings again, Gojo’s number flashing on your screen.

You pick up, “Mm, hello?” you yawn, “finally awake sleeping beauty?”

“Glad you finally decided to acknowledge my beauty,” his voice is gravelly, thick with sleep, and god, you can’t help but imagine waking to this voice every day — “ugh I have a headache,” he murmurs, the crumple you hear must be him burying his face in his pillow because the next question he asks is muffled, “why were we on the phone?”

“You called me last night after drinking, and refused to hang up after Yuta helped you get settled,” you chuckle, as you hear his groan over the phone, “I got a new contact picture for you out of it, love of my life,”

“Glad you’re finally on board,” he mutters, growing quiet, “why didn’t you hang up?”

You pause, “what do you mean?” You ask slowly.

“You could’ve hung up at any time, but you stayed on the phone, even when you fell asleep,” his voice was soft, “why?”

“I just,” you bit your lip, you couldn’t lie to him, at least not completely, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay, and you didn’t want to hang up — so I didn’t,”

He’s silent for a moment, and you almost wish you could sink into the Earth — but he only says, “okay, now what’s the plan for the day, Princess?”

Your lips curl, “Well my day has not really began yet since it’s 5:00 AM here, so I’m probably going to sleep for several hours and wake up at an hour that is not bereft of god,”

“You really couldn’t just say ‘ungodly?’” He snorts.

“Well, 5:00 AM makes me wax poetic, what can I say?” Another yawn parts your lips, “I’m going to sleep,”

But he doesn’t hang up, “I’ll be here, sweetheart.”

You glanced at the time, he’s late.

Well, he wouldn’t be Gojo if he didn’t make an entrance. You slumped on the couch — even if he was getting home from his mission, there was no guarantee he’d stop by your place to see you. He might want to just go home — or stop by Jujutsu Tech, or be anywhere else. You couldn’t have expectations — expectations were only a way to be disappointed, a drop from soaring that would only be met with the impact of the cold, unforgiving ground.

Especially expectations from a fake relationship. You lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling — why were being such an idiot about this? The TV drones on in the background, illuminating the dark of the living room, as you sit barely paying attention to a random rom com you had picked.

Maybe it was because Satoru had spent the rest of today on the phone with you, even through a security check (warning the security officers not to hang up his call) and at the gate. And then every day after that, he had called and texted you like clockwork — stupid things— good morning and good night, random memes that made him think of you, pictures of his day (including ones of him messing with his students), questions of what sweet you wanted from the shop he had decided to frequent, calls about your day and his own, and hours long conversations about nothing at all. Maybe because you could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke to you — or maybe it was because you were just down bad.

It was probably the latter.

You take a throw pillow and pull it over your face. What were you thinking? Falling for your old crush and fake boyfriend a night before a wedding was a trope in a bad rom com that you spent your weekend night watching — it shouldn’t be how you feel.

“That’s a nice look,” you jump, pulling the pillow away, to be met with Gojo’s gaze hidden behind another pair of sunglasses, “honey, I’m home,”

You bite back your smile, “one, this isn’t your home, and two, how did you get inside?”

“It’s pretty easy when you can teleport, you should try it sometime,” he sits beside you, more like collapses as he falls into the couch, his head resting against the top, “although if someone moved in with me, it’d be much easier,” and you laugh.

“Shouldn’t you ask a girl out before you ask her to move in?” he shrugs, his arm resting across the top of the couch.

“I’m anything but traditional,” he sighs, glancing at the TV, “what are we watching?”

“A bad rom com,”

He snorts, “watching it to mercilessly pick it apart?” And you raise an eyebrow, “what? I did stay awake for some of those movies— it was some of my favorite memories during that time and some of the only times I could actually sleep,”

“Yeah, it was a nice way for both of us to turn our brains off for a bit,” you glanced at him, “thought it’d be nice for us too,” his gaze slides to you curiously, “I know there’s been a lot on your mind — with itadori and the special grades,”

He sighs, running fingers through his hair, “Yeah, old geezers seem to cause problems in all parts of my life,” you snort, “can’t believe they’d try to do away with Itadori while I was gone,”

“They don’t see anyone as innocent — they see whether you’re an asset or a threat, unfortunately, they see Itadori not as the former,” you shake your head, as your eyes stare at the movie flashing on the screen, but you don’t really watch, “they’re too far gone to see the innocence of children,”

“You sound like Kento,” and your eyes meet his, his cerulean gaze already on you, his sunglasses discarded on your coffee table.

“Funny, thought I sounded like you,” he blinks a moment, “Satoru, you’re all about preserving the youth of children — that’s why you saved Megumi, Yuta, and Yuji — even when you had every reason not to,”

“How could I not? Youth belongs to the young after all,” a wistful smile on his lips, “i don’t want the same to happen to them that happened to us,”

“To us,” you repeat, a sharp pain sticks between your ribs at the flash of Haibara’s smile and the whisper of Suguru’s laugh, “more like to them,”

“Yeah,” a silence falling over the two of you as the white noise of the TV filled the quiet, “but sometimes I think we went down along with them,”

You shake your head, “I think a part of us did — a part of us will stay there—“ frozen in time and seeping like poison in our bones, “but we’re still here,” you risk to toe the line you’d never cross, your fingers brushing his, “and it’s not over for us,”

And his eyes flicker to your fingers threaded with his, as his fingers squeeze yours slowly, the corner of his lips quirk upwards, as you stretch and sit up, fingers falling away from his, a yawn on your lips, “should we get some sleep?”

“Come on, let’s finish the movie,” he murmurs, even though sleep seems to weigh heavily on his body, eyelids fluttering shut as he turns to you, cheek pressed against the couch, “hey,” he murmurs, “it wasn’t the movies that let me relax,” and you can hear the unspoken meaning in those words — but that was the problem.

It was unspoken.

Your fingers twitch, wanting nothing more than to brush your fingers against his cheek — but you can’t.

You’d allowed yourself to toe the line you’d long drawn in the sand that you’d built into a wall — you had even allowed yourself to stir a few bricks from its place, but you couldn’t cross it. Not now.

Your eyes are growing heavy. Maybe not ever.

Your neck hurts.

The first thought you have as you rouse into aching consciousness. Why was it so bright? Did you forget to draw your curtains? You draw an arm over your face, already dreading the waking hours, until you realize it’s your day off, and you sigh, relaxing into your bed.

Or what you thought was your bed.

Except your bed couldn’t move, nor could it pull you closer. But now something or someone was, an arm around your waist with movement behind you that made breath warm your ear. And you probably would have screamed, if you hadn’t heard the familiar voice whisper your name in your ear.

Gojo.

Gojo???

Your head slowly turned to be met with the strongest sorcerer very much passed out, half behind you, half on top of you — his blue eyes hidden under his eyelids for once instead of any covering that he used to protect himself. His snowy white locks brushed against your skin, the close proximity doing nothing to alleviate your feelings — you had only hoped you could see one flaw, one ick, and maybe you’d be done. But on Satoru Gojo? The man born to be perfect — the same one who sang karaoke for the first time as a teen only to be so incredible that it moved your server to tears?

You really should have fucking known better.

Your breath caught, and you wondered if it was possible to die from embarrassment—if no one had, you would surely be the first case. You were always a trail blazer.

And you tried to shift again, if only to maneuver yourself out of this situation, but he moved along with you, seeking out the contact he was losing. And this only ended with him lying on top of you, his head buried in the crook of your neck, and his legs straddling one of your legs— and then you felt it — a very distinct bulge pressed against your thigh.

Fuck. Your. Life.

He mumbled in his sleep, nose brushing against the hollow of your neck, drawing another shiver from your body. You had a rare opportunity to touch him — didn’t you, no infinity between the two of you — just him and you. You were in a position probably many desired to be in — admirers and enemies alike (neither category being mutually exclusive). You supposed old habits die hard — and so did old crushes.

Could you let yourself enjoy this for a moment? Enjoy the feeling, no matter how real it never would be? Maybe it was wrong, but — your eyes fluttered shut as your arm wrapped loosely around Gojo — you certainly didn’t want to be the one to wake up first.

And you weren’t — your eyes flutter open to movement, and your eyes meet cerulean eyes, lips parted in surprise, “Morning,” he manages, a flush of pink coloring his cheeks, “did we fall asleep?”

“I guess we did,” you bite your lip, “are you going to—”

And he blinks, before scrambling off of you, “Sorry,” he mumbles, as he turns away to fidget with his phone.

“Guess that was one very boring movie,” you murmur.

“Or I was in a very comfortable bed,” he replies with a smirk that turns to a grimace.

“What is it?”

“Naoya Zenin is making an appearance at the wedding we’re attending tomorrow,” and you groan, as he raises an eyebrow, “how many proposals had he made you?”

You scoff, “Proposals? More like propositions,” you shake your head, already aching from the sleep you had barely shaken off and now it had graduated to a shooting pain that made your eye twitch at the thought of that man, “he’s offered to do me the ‘honor’ of being the next heir’s husband half a dozen times. If he ever becomes the head of the Zenin clan, I may help Maki annihilate them myself,”

Naoya Zenin — the most pretentious and egocentric man you had the displeasure of meeting. Even his pretty face could do nothing to fix his hideous personality ridden with misogyny, hatred, and spite. And you’d been offered his hand in marriage half a dozen times due to your lineage in a lesser known clan family with a unique cursed energy. It was a strategic move to try and secure his place — as was every move he made — he had no room for anyone he deemed useless to his plan.

Unfortunately, you did not fall into that special category.

“That won’t happen,” Gojo replies, texting on his phone, “plus, he’s too weak to force that to happen — not to mention he’s a first class prick,”

“You say that, but you basically propositioned me,” you teased, as his eyes flit up from his phone, as you rise from the couch, “quite the proposal you came to me with,”

He pauses a moment, a small smile on his lips, “one, i don’t recall proposing, and trust me that’s something I’d remember,” and you roll your eyes, “and two, aren’t you just as bad, since you said yes, sweetheart?”

“Can you blame a girl wanting a little extra money?” And he locks his phone, drawing close, your breath catching as he lets himself linger for a second too long.

“Can you blame a man for wanting a beautiful and intelligent woman?” And he’s leaning close, but he leans back, only grabbing his coat from the couch, still slung over as it had been. He spares you a smirk at your bewildered expression, “close your mouth, you’ll catch flies, princess, and what a shame that would be,” you scowl, and he laughs as he heads to the door, slipping on his shoes, with a final glance and grin thrown over his shoulder as he opened your door, “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

Right. Tomorrow. The wedding.

Fuck. You were so screwed.

KNOCK. KNOCK.

Fuck. You scrambled from your vanity as you finished putting the finishing touches on your look for tonight. You didn’t think Satoru Gojo of all people could ever be on time, but you supposed there was a first time for everything.

You slipped the dress over your head, careful not to smear your makeup or mess up your hair. You were starting to regret not having the Gojo family’s attendants get you ready for this event, if only so you could have turned your mind off for this time. But you knew all too well that your mind could never give you a break — with all of that free time came free real estate for your anxiety to set up camp and put down roots for all the things that could possibly go wrong. So it was better this way, as you reach for the ties on the back of your dress — of course, maybe if you had let yourself be helped, you could actually have someone to tie your corset back on this dress.

Another knock.

“Sweetheart?” You hear Gojo’s muffled voice through the door, “you’re not planning on standing me up are you?”

You stumble your way to the door, clutching the back of your dress, as you take a breath and throw it open, “Can you tie the back of my dress?”

Fuck. He looked gorgeous. His hair was parted and combed off to the side, a deep blue suit coat and a crisp white collared shirt tucked into a matching suit pant. A pair of sunglasses were tucked into the chest pocket of his jacket in front of a white pocket square.

“No hello, ‘can you tie my dress?’” Gojo tilts his head, his eyes graze over your appearance, as he steps inside and closes the door behind him, “turn around,” And you do, fingers still clutching at the fabric at the back of your dress, cheeks burning as you do, “gonna have to let go, and let me help you, sweetheart,”

You slowly let go, but his warm fingers brush against the skin of your bare back as he holds the dress up from slipping, carefully lacing the corset, “I was right, blue is your color,” he murmurs, as he tugs lightly at the strings, “let me know when it’s tight enough,”

“It’s good now,” you sigh — though the corset wasn’t as tight as your chest now, you face him now, trying to adjust your hair.

“Let me,” one hand cups your chin gently, your breath catching and you can only hope he can’t feel your pulse through your skin. His fingers run through your soft tresses, your eyes unable to meet his — but you wonder if he can see right through you anyway — “you’ve never been good at asking for help,”

“Look who’s talking,” you glare at him, as he chuckles, “well, I asked you didn’t I?”

“Why did you ask me?” You raise an eyebrow, “I’m sure you could have asked anyone,”

“Well, I didn’t want just anyone,” he murmurs, fingers tracing the blush you had lined your cheeks with, “I wanted you,”

“Why?” And he parts his lips, a soft smile that pulls at his features — was it a hint of pink across his cheeks.

“Because—“ and your phone goes off — a reminder with the time of the wedding. And the moment’s broken, as reality settles over you again, “We’ll be late,”

“I don’t mind being late,” and a heat burns from his touch, from the tips of your fingers to the his fingers leave your cheek, warmth fading as quickly as it came, but he offers his hand, “but if it’s for you, I can be on time,” and your fingers find his, interlacing, before he tugs you close, his arm around your waist, “as long as you stay by my side.”

You never were one for weddings. At least not one like this.

A stuffy event held in an extravagant manner — a large banquet hall for the reception, but now the guests roamed the gardens the hall opened out into — lush greenery serving as a perfect backdrop for this wedding — a distant branch of the Zenin family was marrying, which meant all of the main clans were invited to attend. Including several elders of the Gojo clan.

And now you were being subjected to this as well — several dozen eyes on you — all due to the man whose arm you were on. His arm wrapped almost protectively around your waist, his lips nearly brushed against your ear when he whispered in it, letting you know just exactly who was coming over.

“I didn’t think you were one to care for remembering these things,” you wave at the couple that just left the two of you, his fingers grazing the skin behind your ear as he tucked a stray strand behind it.

“I usually don’t care, but I know it’d make you uncomfortable otherwise, especially among all these people,” he smirks, his fingers finding yours, and squeezing, “plus, we need to make a good impression, don’t we?”

“I think we’re making an impression just by being together,” you murmur, and he raises an eyebrow, “everyone’s staring — didn’t you notice?” and he shrugs, a sly smile on his lips.

“Didn’t notice,” he tilts his head, his eyes fixed on you, “I was too busy looking elsewhere, I guess,”

Your cheeks burn, but as your lips part to respond, you see him walking over to the discreet corner you had parked yourselves in, “Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, your fingers tightening around his.

Naoya Zenin strides over in a black yukata kimono, his silver hair pushed back, his lips twisted in a slimy smile that made your skin crawl, your name leaving his lips, “it’s been far too long, you’re looking lovely,” his eyes raked over you like hot coals, “though the company you keep—”

“Has improved markedly,” Satoru’s lips curl in a grin, “do you have business with my girlfriend?”

Naoya raises an eyebrow, “Girlfriend?”

Satoru’s arm tightens around your waist, “I didn’t realize you went hard of hearing — I know your hair had started to go, but your hearing too—” you hid your snort poorly, Naoya’s sharp gaze flickering between the two of you.

“I’m younger than you are, and my hair is bleached,” he snaps, “or are those six eyes not sharp enough to see that as well? They certainly aren’t enough for you to have found Suguru Geto before he caused a war,”

And Satoru’s hurt is imperceptible — a hint of hurt that only shows in the tightness of his jaw for a millisecond, before he’s only giving another laugh.

“At least I am already the head of my clan, because even if I were without my six eyes,” he smirks, but a certain meanness pulls at his features, “I’m still not as weak as you are—”

Naoya’s expression sours, curdled into a foul scowl, “What did you—”

“Alright,” you hold up your hands, “Let’s save the dick measuring contest for later, okay? This is a wedding, let’s not cause a scene, ok?” you glance between the two of them, and Satoru pouts — while Naoya seems all too pleased, a grin broken across his lips.

“This is why you’re the perfect woman — you know how to mediate between men’s egos, and—”

“Naoya, I said let’s not cause a scene, and you’re two steps away from me causing one right now,” you snap, “I wasn’t interested the first dozen times you asked me when I was single, so why would you think I’d be interested now, when I have a boyfriend?”

His face flushes red, and you’re not sure whether it’s in anger or embarrassment, “I doubt you’re even really a couple,” he hisses, “I know all about the proposals that this idiot has been getting and the pressure to marry,” he runs his fingers through his hair, “I’m sure you’ll come running to me once he’s done using you—“

Satoru surges forward, but you press a hand against his chest, “We don’t need to justify our relationship to you, so think what you want — but even if Satoru and I break up, I rather die single than ever spend a minute with you,” and you look at Satoru, your gaze softening, “and I rather spend be single for the rest of my life than spend another minute without him,” and you slide your eyes back to Naoya, his fists clenched, as you lean in, “so fuck off.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but the staff begin to wave everyone into their seats, and the wedding begins. The two of you sit, a silence falling over as others take their seats beside you. A subtle tension as music filled the air and the wedding proceedings began—but you could have cared less— god what the fuck had you said to Naoya? How had Gojo taken it? Does he know how you feel? Does he think it’s an act?

Then his fingers find yours, “Thank you,” he whispers softly, managing only those two words before the wedding begins.

And it dawns on you — it wasn’t what you said, it was the fact you had defended him, your heart aches, it was the fact you had defended him when Naoya insulted Suguru.

Your eyes stay fixed forward as the ceremony begins — it was never about you — as you pulled your fingers away from him.

Like it always never was.

The wedding ceremony goes by — as does the reception, without much to-do. The only silver lining is that there’s far too much small talk for the two of you to have a moment to talk alone, especially when the two of you spot the Gojo clan elders side-eyeing you from the table of old folks, not to mention Naoya hovering around that same table, the same scowl on his face. The only remark that Satoru whispered as the two of you floated by the table pointedly, a smirk on his lips as he waved and held you close to his side — “one quick hollow purple could solve my problems,”

You gave a forced chuckle at that — unfortunately not yours.

And finally, the two of you head home — in relative silence, the drive being short to Gojo’s apartment, where your car was parked. You sigh as he pulls in, “I’ll head out I guess—”

“Why don’t you just stay the night?” and your gaze snaps to his, the first time all night, “it’s really late, and I have a guest room—”

“My apartment isn’t—”

“Your apartment isn’t far, but I thought we could…talk,” and your heart gallops to a start — talking was the last thing you wanted to do.

“What is there to talk about?” And his fingers brush against your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Maybe about why you can’t meet my eyes?” You huff, looking away.

“Can you blame me? Your blue eyes are freaky,” you grumble, and you can hear the judgment in the silence, a first for Gojo, “Gojo, what do you want me to say?”

He stays quiet for a moment, “You don’t have to say anything, just come inside,” So you do — following him inside, the silence hanging over you like a guillotine waiting to slice, “Thank you for what you said—“

The door clicks behind him, as you stop, “Gojo—“

“Satoru,” he corrects, and you’re shaking your head.

“You don’t have to thank me, I was just—“

“But what you said—“

“I said what I had to—“

“You didn’t have to say all that, Princess,” his voice grows soft, “you know you didn’t,” and he’s drawing closer across his living room.

“He was upsetting you,” you murmur, eyes unable to find his again, falling instead to his plush carpet laid against his hardwood, “I couldn’t stand by and let him — I know it hurt when he brought up Suguru—“

“Suguru?” he repeats, and your eyes find his, finally, and you find his brow furrowed, “is that what you think I was thanking you for?”

“What else would you—“ and he’s stepping even closer, your breath stuck in your throat as his fingertips graze your cheek again, “Satoru—“

“Did I mention how beautiful you looked tonight?” he murmurs, a soft chuckle in his voice, “you always look beautiful, but tonight in particular, I couldn’t take my eyes off you,”

“You don’t have to—“

“That’s just it, I don’t have to,” his palm slides against your cheek, “I want to — I want to when it’s you,”

“But, i can’t do this, not like this,” tears burn at the corners of your eyes, water threatening to spill out of a too full glass that had been full for far too long, “not when it will give me—“ you cut yourself off before you cut your own heart out, but he’s only forcing the scalpel back into your hand.

“Give you what?”

And you can’t turn back now — you’d turned from this road far too many times, sprinted in the opposite direction only to end up here again — you needed to do this, even if it lead to a dead end cliff, “Give me the wrong idea,” and you’re turning away, but his hand catches you by the wrist, “stop, I—“

“It’s not the wrong idea,” and you stop.

No, it was. It was, right?

“Satoru—“ and his fingers find your own, as he steps closer, “please, don’t—“

“If you want me to really stop and forget about this, I will,” he murmurs, “I’ll turn around and open the door and let you go home right now, sweetheart. I won’t bring this up again,” but you don’t move away, you don’t say anything, so he continues, “but if you don’t want that, and you want the same thing I do—“

“And what is it that you want?” And you hear his soft chuckle, his cheek brushing against you, as his fingers tuck your hair behind your ear.

“I thought that was obvious, but I guess I’ll have to spell it out for you,” he squeezes your hand, as he guides your face to look back at him, his lips curled in a small smile, “I want you,”

Your breath is shaky, no, no — he doesn’t mean that, “No you don’t,”

He tilts his head, “You don’t think I don’t know what I want?”

“Satoru, I don’t want to be a substitute for others—“

And his hands are sliding around your middle, pulling you closer, “You think I could ever think of you as a second choice?”

“But—“ and every doubt from when you were younger wells up, every fear of not being enough — but they are erased away, crumbled into dust, by the way he looks at you — entire multitudes of skies all made to look at you.

“You keep finding reasons not to do this,” and his fingers skim your cheek, before resting under your chin, “but have you tried finding a reason why we should?”

“Satoru—“ you can’t help but lean into his touch — god, he was a temptation personified — everything you ever wanted, even when you tried not to want it. These feelings were never fake — so why not give in? Just this once. Your fingers slide against his cheek, and you can feel his skin burn under your touch, “do you have any idea what you do to me?”

“No, sweetheart,” he leans in even closer, your breaths becoming one, “but I’d love to find out,”

His lips brush yours — it’s chaste, hesitant, testing the waters — he tastes like sugar, and you almost laugh — he tastes like the frosting from the wedding cake that he had swiped a slice of on the way out that he finished before you two had reached his car. His eyes flutter open for half a second, before your lips are crashing to his this time — a new record for addiction? A second maybe and you were too far gone.

His hands cup your cheeks, one sliding to the back of your neck, as the other slides down to your waist to pull you ever closer.

“Did you find it out?” You murmur between kisses, lips meeting and parting if only to allow you both a breath. And his snowy eyelashes flutter, as his lips quirk upwards.

“Think I need another,” and his lips swallow any coherent thoughts you have, his hands slipping down your sides, lips parting again, “another,” he murmurs, a kiss, “another,”

“How many do you need?” you ask breathlessly, a chuckle caught in your throat, and his lips press desperate kisses along your jaw, a smirk against your skin.

“Is infinity an answer?” And you laugh, “have to take responsibility — I’m addicted to you,”

“And if I’m addicted?” His hands squeeze your hips, drawing a gasp from your lips.

“I’d be more than happy to take responsibility for you, Princess — always have,”

Your heart beats against the bars of its cage, threatening to burst out — but you couldn’t — not without knowing, “And if you break my heart?”

“I won’t ever break your heart,” he leans down to press butterfly kisses to your cheek, “but even if I do, I’ll put it back together,”

“Promise?” You murmur, and his lips meet yours again, and again, as he’s leading you towards his bedroom, his fingers running through your hair.

And the door to his bedroom swings shut, “Promise.”

“How long are you going to tease me?” you’re grumbling, cheeks hot and eyes averted, the back of your hand pressed against your lips, as Satoru presses needy kisses along your neckline of your dress.

He looks up at you through his snowy lashes, and you don’t know if you want to slap the smile off his lips or kiss it off, “You’ve been teasing me for years, you can’t give me this time, sweetheart?” His teeth graze the juncture of your neck and shoulder, “plus, do y’know how fun it is to watch you squirm?”

Slap. It’s definitely a slap.

“You’re insufferable,” and he smirks when your breath catches when his lips ghost over the swell of your chest.

“Yet you’re the one who's under me—“ and you try to get up only for him to pin you back down, a pout on his lips, “alright, alright, can’t blame me for wanting to see you squirm, Princess, how many chances will I get?”

“Only this one if you keep this up,” and he’s finding your lips in a languid kiss, an apology with no words, a smile filled with affection that only made it hard for you to feign annoyance.

“Then I better make this count,” he’s gently helping you up, turning you around to undo your corset strings — but you wonder if he’s undoing it or tangling it, “why did we choose a dress with such a complicated back?” It’s his turn to grumble and it only draws a giggle from you.

“Surprised you haven’t hollow purple’d it by now,”

“Trust me if you weren’t in it, I would have,” he sighs, as the fabric begins to loosen up, slipping off your shoulders.

“And here I thought you were good at everything,” you chuckle as he helps you shimmy out of the dress, the fabric falling away from you in a small pool around your ankles. Pools of blue rake over your exposed body, raising goosebumps in its wake, as your arms reflexively try to cover yourself, but his hands find your own, easing them away.

“I’m good at what counts, Princess,” he kisses your wrist, pulse jumping under his touch, nose brushing against it, he hovers over you, as he undoes his tie, fingers tugging at the knot, as he undoes the top button of his shirt, “and I’ll show you.”

~~~~

Satoru had dreamed of this — of you and him. He knew when he realized it — although it was too late when he did. Maybe it was the night before you left — the night after graduation — before you left — you had fallen asleep watching the movie you had put on. Your lips parted and mouth ajar, your eyes fluttered shut, and you were out. He had leaned over to grab his phone to snap a picture to tease you with later, only for your fingers to grab onto him, your head on his shoulder, a quiet murmur of his name.

“Satoru,” — not Gojo, as you had always called him. And he knew he wanted to hear you say it again and again. His fingers brushed a stray strand of hair away, his head leaning against yours.

Suguru was everything to him for a time — he had come to Satoru at a time where he thought no one else would ever be able to understand him. No one else would be able to reach him — because how does a person reach for a god? But here you were — and the way your head rested on his shoulder and your lips said his name made him want nothing more than you by his side.

And when you left — you didn’t reply to his messages, you disappeared, just like everyone else did in his life. He was always left alone in the end — maybe it was his fate.

But then you came back — came back almost right after Suguru left for good. And that part of his heart that was meant for you began to thrive again and again — as he spent more time with you.

And god, when his clan started to pressure him to find someone to marry — he wrote them off as he always did. He thought he could ride out the ridiculous proposals and dates they had arranged for him — but as he thought more about who he wanted to spend his time with, who he wanted to see after a tiring mission, and who he couldn’t imagine being without —-

And he realized it was you.

“Satoru, don’t tease me,” you pouted, teeth bearing down on your bottom lip, legs spread for him, his eyes flirting between your all too cute expression and the growing wet patch on your panties, “fuck, please—“

“Gonna have to tell me what you want, sweetheart,” he presses a wet kiss to your inner thigh, his arm hooked under your knee, your foot pressed against his back, “where do you want me?”

“You fuck-er—“ the last syllable is a gasp as he kisses your sensitive clit through your soaked underwear, “Toru—“ a whine leaves your throat.

Fuck, you’re so cute, his fingers toy with the elastic of your panties — and all of this was worth it, worth it to see if these feelings were what he thought they were, worth it to make you smile, and worth to end up with you.

“How can I refuse you when you say my name like that?” he’s tugging your underwear away, exposing your sipping cunt to a rush of air and his warm breath, “all this f’me, baby?” You mumble something he can’t quite make out, “what was that?”

Your glassy eyes look up at him, blown wide with lust, “Only f’you, Satoru,” fuck, his dick twitches — he could bust just looking at you.

“Fuck, baby,” he murmurs, “g’nna make me cum just with your words,” but he diverts his attention to your needy cunt, his long fingers graze over your pussy, collecting the precum on his fingertips, before he pinches your clit.

“Toru,” you squirm, as he grins down at you, all too pleased.

“Imagine if the elders could see you like this — spread out for me like a good little wife,” he’s leaning down to kiss your fluttering folds, leaning back for you to see the shiny pre that clings to his lips that his pink tongue darts out to clean off, “sweetest thing I’ve tasted,”

“Please, Toru, fuck—“ and finally his finger is circling your hole, before sinking in knuckle deep — fuck, you were fucking tight — he could melt from your warmth, pulling him in like a siren to a drunken sailor, “oh my god,”

“You don’t have to call me ‘god,’ princess,” and he earns a glare from you that fades into an open mouthed moan as he begins to pump his finger in and out, “so good for me,” and he’s adding another finger, the wet squelch of your cunt growing louder, as he reaches a hand down to graze against his erection if only for a little relief.

He wishes he could memorize the way you looked right now — perfect little lips parted for him, his name and soft pants the only sounds you could manage to make, your back arching into his touch, and the way you moaned when his lips found their way around your clit.

His tongue circles your clit at first before his lips suck at the hard pearl, fingers parting your dripping folds, finally finding that spot that had your walls giving that telltale spasm, “Toru, I’m close—g’nna cum—“ you whimper, his fingers pistoning in and out of your cunt as he sucks hard at your clit, and you cum, hard, around his fingers, drenching his face and finger alike, as he fucks you through your orgasm.

You’re beautiful — lips parted and chest heaving, as you moan his name again, “good girl,” he’s murmuring, as your eyes flutter open, to watch him lick his lips and fingers clean, “might get addicted to how you taste, sweetheart,”

And you’re boneless, but still you’re still reaching for him, pulling him into a languid kiss, his cock twitching as he shifts himself over you, hands pressed into the mattress, his clothed cock rubbing against your drenched folds.

“Wanna make you feel good,” you mumble against his lips, and he’s pulling back an inch — but unknowingly, he’s given you a mile, as you flip him onto his back.

You’re a vision — your perked up nipples visible through your bra, halfway slipping off your shoulders as it is, hair a lovely mess, and pretty lips kiss ruined.

“My turn,” and your lips burn a trail down his jaw, along the curve of his neck and the cut of his collarbone. You take your time, if only to pay him back in full for all the teasing he did, “didn’t know you taste so sweet, Toru,” your tongue drags up his chest, “must be all the sugar you eat,”

And your lips smile against his abs at the sharp gasp he fails to stifle, “I’ll have you know I’m very sweet—“ and your fingers graze over his clothed erection — his hips buck up into your touch, “I’m known for it,” he hisses, as a giggle escapes your lips.

“Uh-huh, I’m sure almost everyone would care to disagree,” the tip of his cock strains against the fabric, the dark wet patch growing larger the more your thumb beared down on it, “but I wouldn’t be one of them,” and you’re dragging the fabric down his hips, freeing his cock, your eyes nearly hypnotized by the slight of it, thick beads of precum dripping from the slit, before your gaze finds his again, softening, “because I know how much you do for others — and how much you’ve lost because of it,” you kiss his inner thigh softly, nose brushing against the skin.

“As long I don’t lose you,” he says softly, “I think I’ll be okay,”

And your fingers find their way around the base of his cock, drawing a ragged gasp from his lips, before you lean down and flick your tongue against his leaking tip, “I’m not going anywhere, Toru.”

Your tongue drags a thick stripe up his cock, before beginning to trace along one of his veins, your fingers slipping up to use his pre to rub up and down his length. Your thumb teases his slit, and a hiss leaves his lips, a smirk against his dick.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you know exactly what you’re doing to me,” his cheeks burn, dusted with pink surely — as he watches you lick the precum that dripped down your fingers onto your wrist, “knew that mouth would be s’fucking good—“

“Turns out you don’t shut up even in bed,” and that earns you a cheeky grin that parts into an ‘o’ as his dick sinks into your mouth. He swears he was closer to death than he was when Toji nearly killed him — not that he’d like to remember that man in this moment — but you’d surely be the death of him, and you would be — if he had to spend another second without you in his life.

Fuck, he looks down at you, eyes half shut, his white knuckled fingers gripping the sheets — you’re gorgeous as you swallow him whole — sucking and licking, nose brushing against his pubes as your eyes water, as you bob along his length from tip to base and back again.

“S’good for me, so pretty, fuck—” he groans, when his tip brushes against your throat, his fingers finding your scalp to try and ease you off, I’m s’close princess, g’nna cum—” But your hands only slide to his ass to hold yourself against him, as his dick twitches in your mouth, and your fingers drift to his sack while your tongue flicks along his slit and he’s done. He’s cumming down your throat, hot release painting your mouth.

He’s watching you with half lidded eyes pull away from him— a string of cum and spit strung between your lips and his dick, before beginning to drip from the corner of your mouth. And fuck, it’s enough to make him hard all over again. You lean over him, wiping the release from your lips, as you kiss up his body.

“Now who’s good at everything?” and he huffs out a chuckle.

“I stand corrected — actually, don’t think I’ll be standing for a while after that but—” and he’s finding your lips in a kiss, tasting himself you, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, as your fingers find his erection again, stroking it, before he’s flipped you onto your back. He runs a hand through his snowy locks, a smile on his lips, “don’t think you’ll be doing much standing after this either,”

“So full of yourself,” you roll your eyes.

“That’s what you’re going to be full of in a second—”

“Oh my god—” and your laugh dies on your lips as he starts to tease your entrance with the head of his cock, “Toru,” you whine, as he watches your needy cunt flutter around nothing as he drags his length up and down your dripping hole, watching your releases mix, “please—”

“So polite,” he hums, as he leans down to press a kiss to your lips, “now how can I refuse that?” and he begins to sink his length into your cunt, warm walls nearly pulling his cock in deeper, as he groans your name, “s’perfect, s’good for me, princess, made for me,” and inch by inch, until he’s finally bottoming out.

“Toru, ngh, s’big—” you gasp, lips parted in a silent moan, as you pull him even closer, face buried in the crook of his neck, but his fingers tugging your hair to show your face.

“Let me see you,” he murmurs, as his lips meet yours in a sloppy kiss as he continues to thrust into you — his hips meeting yours, the wet squelch and skin slapping echoing in his ears. A gasp parting your lips as you pull apart, your head thrown back in a moan as your walls flutter around him as his tip breaches that one spot inside you.

“Haa, I’m close, Toru,” you groan, and he’s nodding, his fingers reaching between your bodies to find your clit.

“Cum for me, pretty girl,” and you do — cumming hard, as he notches himself deep inside you, before spilling inside you, his hot release deep in your pussy. He’s moaning your name, as your bodies slow and his fingers cup your cheek gently, and his lips find yours.

He slowly rolls off of you, your warmth leaving him for a moment, before he’s pulling you close again, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Is this a dream?” you mumble, eyes fluttering shut, and a small chuckle leaves his lips, legs entangled.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, “If it is, I hope I never wake up, Princess.”

Your body aches — that’s your first thought as you stir into consciousness. Fuck, why does you feel so sore? Your eyes try to flutter open, but the sunlight blinds you — a soft groan leaves your lips. You shift, as you stretch, your back aching and muscles tight, but then someone moves behind you, an arm wrapping around your waist.

Your eyes shoot open, as your head slowly turns to find looking at Satoru. A gasp is caught in your lips.

Fuck, it was real.

You slowly turn to face him, his soft breaths leaving his pink lips — god he’s so gorgeous. His pretty white eyelashes resting against his skin, lips parted ever so slightly, and his snowy hair askew and mussed. Your fingers ghost over his cheek lightly — how many people have seen him asleep like this? How many had seen him with his guard down? You knew he didn’t sleep nearly enough, you were surprised he was still asleep — but, your cheeks burned, you both did spend half the night awake.

But there were more pressing things to think about — what did this mean? You chew on your bottom lip, he had said he wanted you — but what did he want? Just last night? Or something more.

“I can’t sleep with your thoughts grinding so much,” he mumbles, heat rushing to your cheeks, he’s burying his face in the crook of your neck, “why are you awake so early?” His nose brushes against your neck, his lips pressing softly against your pulse.

“I just woke up,” you murmur, a small shiver running up your spine, as you relax into his touch, your fingers running through his soft locks, “did all my thinking wake you?”

“Yes, and you’ll have to compensate me,” and you snort.

“You’re rich, like old money rich,” he’s pressing sweet kisses to your skin, heat climbing up your body.

“Money isn’t what I want,” he nuzzles you, nose brushing against the skin of your neck, “wonder what other ways you can repay me,”

You chuckle, humming at his touch — god even the simplest of touches has your logic up in ash, “I’m sure you can figure out some other methods of payment,”

And his lips find yours again — it’s a lazy morning kiss, soft and slow, but not bereft of any of the passion from the night before. His fingers slide down your body, as he pulls you impossibly closer.

“My preferred method of payment wouldn’t have us leaving this room until tomorrow morning,” his lips curl in a smirk, “but I’ll collect my charge tonight — how about I make us breakfast?”

“You can make breakfast?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I know how to scramble an egg,” he shrugs, and you snort only for him to pout, and you smile, your fingers brushing against his cheek, before your thumb runs down his lips.

“How about we make breakfast together?”

“Was that really your first time making tamagoyaki?” you raise an eyebrow, as you pick up a piece of the rolled omelet between your chopsticks.

“Promise,” and you bite it — it was perfect — the texture, the taste, the seasoning. And you stare at him, an eyebrow raised.

“Either you’re lying or you really are good at everything,” you mutter, and he grins, as he takes a bite of his food — a sweeter tamagoyaki he had made for himself, far too smug for his own good.

“I think I proved that last night, Princess,” and you nearly choke on your food. And you chew thoughtfully — you two hadn’t even breached what last night meant yet. You had simply been dancing around it, or at least you had. You didn’t want to be the one to bring it up — or rather, you picked up another piece of tamagoyaki up, you didn’t know how to, “what’s going on in that head of yours?”

And your eyes snap up, “What do you mean?”

He tilts his head, “You’re not hard to read — you keep thinking about something,” and his lips curl, “last night?” Your hesitation gives you away — and he only smiles wider, “should I refresh your memory?” And your cheeks are burning, and he chuckles, “come on, sweetheart, let’s just talk,”

You bite your lip — you needed to do this, you couldn’t run away from how you felt, not again — your fingers fidgeting with your chopsticks, before you place them down on your bowl, “What did last night mean?”

And his lips curl, but this smile he has is softer, “What do you think sweetheart? Do you think I’m really the—“ And his phone rings, and he picks up his phone, eyes flickering to the caller, and you wave him off, “you can take the call,”

He sighs, “One second,” he gets up to speak, and he hangs up a few minutes later, “text me a location,”

“Who was that?” And he’s shaking his head, a sigh on his lips, his hand on the back of his neck.

“The ever breathing and ever irritating geezers want me to meet them to speak about something involving the clan,” he meets your gaze, a flicker of an emotion in his eyes — a drop of water that disappears into the sea as quickly as it formed, “and it’s a good opportunity for me to discuss something I have been wanting to speak with them about,”

“Something?” and his lips quirk in a small smile.

“I’ll be back soon enough to explain, sweetheart,” he walks over to you, “will you wait here for me? Think I’ll be able to come back faster if I know you’re here waiting for me,”

And you can’t help the small flutter your treacherous heart gives, “The great Satoru Gojo will rush for me?”

“Oh, he would rush day and night if it meant he could come home to you,” and his fingers find your cheek, drawn like a magnet — why was it you could never look away from him? Even in a crowd, your eyes always found his gaze.

And you’d go to him — like a moth to a flame, “I think I’d prefer just Satoru,” you lean into his touch, your hand over his, “I do owe him after all,”

“You do,” he leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead, before he’s pulling away, a smile on his lips, “consider that a deposit.”

You didn’t know what to do with yourself.

Alone in Satoru’s place — you didn’t know what to do with yourself. He had left right after breakfast, and he told you where the TV was, books, and told you could order anything or use anything you needed. But, this place was so him — each place you went, there was just another reminder of him that seemed trail after you, but at the same time, without him, it was like a shell of a place — no soul present.

And you supposed the soul wasn’t present.

You ended up back in the bedroom, crawling back under the covers. Fuck, they even smelled of him — you squeezed your eyes shut.

You really didn’t know what you were doing — did you?

You laid on your back. What were you supposed to make of what happened last night and this morning for that matter? Was this real now? A real relationship with Satoru — you turned over on your stomach, pulling the covers over your head — you could barely imagine it.

And your phone goes off, as you reach for it blindly on the nightstand. But it wasn’t the white haired sorcerer you hoped it was — your eyebrows knit together — at least you didn’t think it was. A text from a number you don’t recognize — and a picture to top it off from the preview.

You nearly deleted it — only to spot a familiar mop of white in the picture.

Your blood runs cold at the sight. Satoru? He was at a restaurant with — a woman? You didn’t recognize her, but his hand held hers, picture taken mid laugh. Your cheeks burn — no, no — there had to be an explanation.

A text now — Want to see what your boyfriend does in his spare time? Is he done using you now?

There’s only one person who’d text like that.

Naoya, how fuck did you even get this picture? You stare at the photo — have you fallen so far in your clan that you have the time to stalk Satoru now?

He replied, it’s not my fault that they are dining in a Zenin owned business.

Another picture — Satoru and her were hugging, his arm around her waist, far too close to be friendly.

You don’t think — you call him. It rings and rings, but no answer — the cut to voicemail makes your heart sink.

Another text — even if you don’t believe me, do you think this will be the last of your problems? When you’re Satoru Gojo, anyone close to you will have a target on their back — if only to use your blood to paint one on his head.

You knew you couldn’t trust this. You knew there was an explanation. You knew Satoru wouldn’t do this to you.

But even still, you wished you could tell your heart that.

“What is this?” Satoru was led to a table at the restaurant the old geezers had chosen — but there were no wrinkly old cranks in sight. Instead, there was a woman.

“Are you Satoru Gojo?” And he raises an eyebrow, hands sliding into his pockets.

“The one and only, now I don’t suppose the old fools of the Gojo clan turned into a woman — so who are you?” She swirls the glass in her hand, before downing the liquid in one go.

“Figures they had to lie to get you here — seems like we’ve been set up,” she gestures to the chair in front of her, “I’m Airi,” and he takes a reluctant seat, “I was told this was a meeting for us to meet for a potential engagement,” and he scoffs, he should have figured it was something like this, “but judging by the look on your face, you didn’t know that,”

“I was expecting to meet

I suppose we’re on the same page,”

He tilts his head, “Really?”

“Gojo, you may be a catch, but to me, you’re nothing more than a potential knife to my neck,” she places her glass down, leaning back in her chair, “and plus, I have someone I’m interested in,” and her eyes slide down, “and judging by the bite mark on your neck, you do too,”

He pays it no mind, a laugh leaving his lips at the thought of you waiting for him at his apartment, “I do,” and he sighs, pushing his chair out, before getting to his feet. “and I have to get back to her,”

She follows suit pushing out her own chair, rising, a waiter walking by, and she trips. It’s a reflex, he catches her by the wrist and by the waist, steadying her.

“Sorry,” she pulls away immediately, looking back for the waiter, before biting her tongue, “fucking waiter tripped me,” the two of them glance around, but see no one, “I’ll have to talk to my grandfather’s advisors about this. No one trips the granddaughter of Naobito Zenin,” she mutters, and Satoru’s eyes snap to her.

“You’re a Zenin?” And it clicks, the wedding, “who arranged this meeting?”

She tilts her head, “My father, but he heard about this from my cousin, Naoya—“

He checks his phone — and he sees a missed call from you.

Fuck. It was a set-up — in both ways.

“I have to go,” and he can only hope you wouldn’t do the same to him when he came back.

Satoru calls you, but you don’t pick up. You can’t bring yourself to stare back at the photo he had set as his contact photo — the picture Yuta had taken of him clutching at his phone with your picture on his screen.

You needed to talk to him in person.

And it’s not long before he’s back home — practically teleporting at your feet.

You swear, stumbling and he grabs you, tugging you close, “Got you,” he smiles, tugging off his blindfold for you to see his eyes — the startling blue that you still couldn’t navigate without drowning in its depths, “does that mean I can keep you?” and you want to pull away, you want to run, but you can’t help but melt into his touch, your fingers gently clutching at the front of his shirt.

“That depends on whether I’m the only person you’ve said that to,” and you look up at him, his brow furrowed, “and held like this,”

“The meeting today, it was supposed to be with the elders — I was going to discuss our relationship again but—“ you show him the pictures on your phone, and his brow knit together, “how did you—“ and he doesn’t finish his sentence before he realizes, “it was a set-up,”

“I know,” and relief washes over features for a moment, but your eyes can’t meet his, your lips a thin line.

And he glances at the photo again, seeing the one where he’s holding Airi, “She tripped, sweetheart, trust me—“ his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing the length of your cheek, “I don’t want to hold anyone but you,”

“I know Naoya and the Gojo clan probably set this up,” you whisper, leaning into his touch, “but—” you pull away from him, every step away from him a fissure in the foundation of this bridge built, “I don’t think I can do this anymore,”

And he’s blinking, “Why?”

“I’m not good enough,” you’re shaking your head, stepping back as he steps forward, “I hurt you by leaving, and I was this close to doing it again—”

“But you didn’t—”

“And your clan doesn’t want us together, and I don’t know, I feel even if we’re together,” the words that leave your lips break your heart and his, we’ll only hurt each other in the end,”

“Why do you always push me away when we get close?”

“No I don’t—”

“You don’t think the sorcerer that’s an expert at pushing others away — wouldn’t know if he’s getting pushed away?”

“This isn’t working out,” you cut him off, as the slice cuts through thin air — but it’s not your head that goes rolling — it’s his heart, “we should stop — I think your clan has been convinced,”

He’s silent for a moment, before he replies, “well, I haven’t been convinced,”

You scoff, his hands by his side, as his quiet footsteps approach you, “convinced of what?”

“Convinced that,” he stops in front of you, “you don’t feel the same way I do,” Your breath catches, as his fingers find your cheek, “all these years, sweetheart, and you didn’t know?”

“But,” you can’t process this, it doesn’t make sense, “but Suguru—“

“Was important to me yes,” he murmurs, “but it’s been years, and it doesn’t mean I can’t have deep feelings for someone else — especially when I’ve had them for over a decade,”

“You—“ was this real? As he stood before you, in his living room low lights, sunlight streaming in from his windows, “what?”

He laughs, “Didn’t know it was possible to render you speechless, sweetheart — guess there’s a first time for everything,” he steps over your missteps with the same ease he does everything, “I really do have to spell everything out for you, don’t I?” The back of his fingers ghost over your cheek, “I’m in love with you—“

“No,” you’re shaking your head, and his face falls, “Satoru, we can’t—“

“But—“

“Your clan doesn’t approve of me, they won’t stop trying to break us up, and I could put you in danger,” you murmur, “they could use me against you — just like Suguru did,” you couldn’t bear the thought of that, “and is that worth it? Worth it for something that may not be real?” You ask the question you’re afraid of asking him — of asking yourself — “was it ever real?”

And he’s still trying to reach for you, despite it all — he knows it’s dangerous to be around him, he knows anyone close to him is in danger — and that’s why he was okay when you left. If only you’d be safe — but he knew that if he always played it safe, he would never be happy, “It’s real to me,”

“It’s not to me,” you turn towards the door, “I’m sorry.”

And this time he doesn’t stop you.

It’s for the best.

That’s what you tell yourself. The same thing you say when you’re leaving his place. The same thing you say the next morning you wake up with only a pain in your chest and a dull ache in your head. The same thing when you accept a long mission overseas.

It was for the best.

Then why — then why did you think of him? Each and every day, every minute, every second. But it was for the best. He was safer without you, it was easier without you, it was better — better and yet each day seemed to drag when you couldn’t talk to him. And your notes were filled with unsent texts to him — and your mind was filled with nothing but memories.

And you couldn’t touch memories nor could you talk to them.

Several months later, you’re sitting in a plane, watching the animation of the plane fly back towards Tokyo. You had been checking in with Yaga several times a month, but you hadn’t heard a thing from Satoru.

Or rather, Gojo. Not that you expected to — not after what you did.

And soon enough, you’re arriving home — heading inside your home to find a bunch of your mail had fallen out of your mailbox, knocked out of the rickety box from the storm the night before. You pick up the drenched mail between two fingers that was stuck to the sides of your walls, as you fumble with your keys to open the door. Your suitcase and mail fall to the fall as you close the door behind you, sighing.

Fuck. You were home.

You dragged your suitcase inside, picking up the mail off the floor. You collapsed on your couch, tossing the wet envelopes onto the table — when a name catches your eye.

Gojo?

You pick up an envelope — the frilly envelope doing nothing to protect the contents inside — you barely can make out any of the text, except the faint inked kanji of his name.

You gingerly open the envelope, peeling out the insides — and your heart drops.

Is this an invitation? The faint text was blurred and smudged from the rain — the contents all but faded and you could only make out three things — ““marriage,” today’s date, and bits and pieces of what you thought was an address.

Satoru was…getting married?

It felt like logic had fled your mind and panic took its place — as you looked up the parts of the address that you were able to decipher. And you found it — it was a popular venue not far from here.

You didn’t think — you grabbed your keys and drove.

You couldn’t let him get married, no, no — you had made a mistake when you left. You thought he was better off, you thought it was for the best — but it wasn’t. It couldn’t be when your chest hurt like this — felt as if your heart was splitting in two with a sword stuck between your ribs. It couldn’t be because you pushed him away because you were scared — scared of getting hurt again, scared of hurting him, scared of being with the only person you ever had loved.

Basically, you pulled up to the venue, you were an idiot.

You hadn’t changed, you hadn’t showered off your who knows how long of a flight, and now you were on the steps of a wedding venue that Satoru was getting married at. You froze before the doors.

You couldn’t do this. He didn’t deserve to have his day ruined by you — not when you had ruined enough. If he had found someone else to spend his life with — whether it was arranged or not, he deserved to be happy.

Even if it wasn’t with you.

So you step down — walking off a distance to watch when the couple emerged — which judging by how dark it was and how staff were already almost done setting up — would be any minute now.

So you wait.

And finally when the doors swing open, you steel yourself — knowing it would do nothing, nothing to shield you from the pain of seeing—and your eyes find the groom.

That wasn’t Satoru.

He certainly had the white hair, but he did not have his blue eyes — he had a lovely bride regardless, who looked at him the way you had always looked at Satoru. Was that the look you had hidden away for so many years? And why were you still hiding?

And your eyes find Satoru almost instantly — as fast as his eyes find you seemingly, as your name escapes his lips — as he parts through the crowd to your side. He’s wearing the other suit he had tried on — the white suit that had been your second favorite — his white locks parted and combed to the side, but still impossibly unkempt as they always were.

“You got my invitation?” you blink, tilting your head.

“But you—what?” and his brow furrows.

“Don’t tell me you lost your ability to read and speak while overseas, princess,” and a small chuckle escapes your lips as you shake your head, wringing your hands.

“Satoru, the invitation was wet because of the rain, I thought—” your voice wavers, glancing away as your cheeks burn, “I thought you were getting married.”

He raises an eyebrow, lips curling, “And you were about to burst in and object?”

You roll your eyes, but even so you can’t meet his gaze, “Satoru—”

His smile only grows wider, “What were you going to say? A passionate speech about how you’re still—” And you’re tugging him close by the collar, and his breath catches, your name leaving his lips.

“I’m in love with you, Satoru,” your voice is steady as you speak, your hand sliding to his cheek, “I always have been — I was just afraid to admit it, I didn’t want to hurt you — whether it was by my own hand or not,” and his brow furrows, but you continue, “but I’m not scared anymore — because it hurts more to be nothing than something with you—”

And his lips find yours. It’s everything you want — because it's him, he’s everything you’d ever wanted, and everything you’d ever want. You want the way his arm slides around your waist to pull you closer, you want the way his hand cups your cheek, you want the way his lips smile against yours, and you’d want his past, present, and future. And you’d do anything to keep it.

“Promise you’ll never leave like that again?” he murmurs, his arm tightening around your waist as he says the words, his forehead pressed against yours, “I already have abandonment issues,” and you chuckle, your fingers finding his cheek.

“I promise,” you murmur, “I’m sorry I left — both times I left, and there won’t ever be a third,”

And he smiles, “You proposing to me, sweetheart? I’m not one to rush into things, gotta take me out on a proper date first,”

“How about tonight?” you find his lips again, the taste of sugar on his lips — undoubtedly from indulging in a slice or several of wedding cake.

“So soon?” he hums,and his gaze softens, as he presses a kiss to your forehead, “someone’s eager,” and your fingers intertwine with his, squeezing his, as you would a million times more,

“Well, you don’t know until you try.”

✧ a/n: ahhh another celebration fic done!! this one was lowkey a struggle towards the end so i hope this turned out okay. it's beyond me understanding if it did or not lmao. i hope you guys enjoy ahhh -- gotta probably put up a poll to decide the next celebration fic this weekend :) (it's only because i'm horribly indecisive).

✧ taglist: @yunjinabla, @weluvsza, @yamaguccitadashi, @gojobbg, @soulofoz, @hfdkhjghjkghfj, @forest-fruits-jam, @cerene-dipity, @sleazymac-n-cheesy, @reaperxdeath, @octopishisahybridanimal, @hanlay, @whereflowerswenttodie, @tsukimefuku, @numbing3scapism, @arcswonderland, @kirashuu, @fushitoru, @spider-fan72, @jayathelostdragon, @sunflowmaryam, @satorusmochis, @catsgomurp, @simply-a-s1mp, @kentocalls, @weluvsza, @lucy-xv0202, @mazzd4, @dontshuugo, @zz-snow-zz

#sab [mlist]#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo fanfiction #satoru gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk fanfiction #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #gojo x you #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo fluff

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hannieehaee · 11 months ago

Text

SINGING LOW

18+ / mdi

summary: despite everyone within the industry knowing mingyu to date around a lot, what didn't meet the public's eye was his undying crush on you, his label mate, and his need to fill the you-shaped hole in his heart with any girl who'd give him the time of day.

content: idol!mingyu x hybeidol!reader, pining, mingyu's kind of a slut, smut, afab reader, reader is a 97 liner, dry humping, a lot of made up shit abt the industry lmao, mentions of other idols, oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex, mentions of cheating, mentions of a breakup, angst, fluffy ending, etc.

wc: 13k~

a/n: this is not connected to my lil idol!mingyu x idol!reader series just fyi <3 i hope u guys enjoy this it took me like a month to write T-T

masterlist | kofi

Mingyu could still remember the day he met you. Well, maybe not met, but it was the first time he ever saw you face to face. It was at some awards show back in 2017. MAMA, was it? Or maybe the MMAs? Well, that didn't matter much. All he knew is that on stage, you had caught his eye.

It was only about a year into his debut, so he still wasn't too used to this scene. He simply sat back and enjoyed the pretty sight in front of him, knowing your group (and you) by name, but not having had the pleasure of meeting you personally by then. He hadn't met many people thus far, actually. At the time, most of his friends in the industry consisted of the twelve other members of his group. Coming from a small company, it had been hard for any of the members to begin to disperse and befriend their peers in the industry. Sure, they all had friendly acquaintances with other idols, but nothing could really compare to what they had with one another.

It wasn't until somewhere around 2017 that Mingyu had finally found a group of friends outside of his twelve members that he could trust. He had always been an outgoing guy, befriending anyone who'd look his way. He reasoned that someone had to be the icebreaker in every social situation, and he had given himself that job. Despite being a charismatic extrovert, however, most of these friendships did not stick. He developed many acquaintances, and maybe even situational friendships, but he had not really considered anyone a friend until meeting one Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook was simply the tip of the iceberg. Some believed Mingyu had taken the man under his wing, while others believed the opposite, but it had in fact been a mutual aid. They had both felt a bit lost at the time they met, bonding over the many things their lives had in common. Their age being one of them. At first it was thrown around as a joke, the idea of forming a little group with the many other 97-liners within their industry. But that joke became reality soon after when Mingyu had met Yugyeom backstage during his group's most recent comeback at the time. The three soon became four, taking in a Cha Eunwoo, and then a Jaehyun from NCT. Even some of Mingyu's own members joining, having the privilege of being born on the great year of 1997. This was how you eventually entered the picture.

Mingyu had already known you, well, more so known about you. Despite being the same age, you had debuted a couple of years before Seventeen, which gave him the opportunity to get to know you as an idol before he did personally. He still remembered the days in the green basement, watching comeback shows with the members as they prepared for their own debut. There had been a specific day when your group had been presenting their debut stage, which was also the day Mingyu first caught sight of you. You had caught his eye immediately. There was just something about you. He might've developed a slight interest in you from that moment on, hoping for the day in which he would become one of your peers.

Upon debuting, Mingyu had only seen you in passing for the first couple of years, the closest contact being a quick and informal introduction between your groups as you cruised through the backstage hallways of MNET. You looked even better in real life, he had to admit. But sadly, there was no one-on-one interaction between you that day. Nor was there during any of the following encounters throughout the next few years. It wasn't until about a year into the creation of the 97 squad that Mingyu had the pleasure of meeting you personally.

It was sometimes Jungkook who brought in new members to the friend group, but it was mostly Mingyu who would take the liberty of befriending the aforementioned members in order to introduce them into the group. It was mostly due to Mingyu's extroverted personality, which allowed him to strike up conversation with anyone at any time, unlike Jungkook who was a bit shier in that aspect. It had been Jungkook, however, who had first introduced the two of you. It had been backstage of MAMA or MMA, he wasn't completely sure. Mingyu also wasn't sure how you and Jungkook had met; he'd never bothered to ask, but upon your first meeting it had seemed like the two of you were close friends already. Mingyu had to admit that upon that first assumption, he was a bit jealous of his proximity to you. This was immediately followed by the realization that maybe Mingyu's previous infatuation in you went further than mere interest in you as a fellow idol, but it was maybe a bit of a crush. Regardless of what Mingyu had felt at the moment, he knew that he wanted to see you again.

For some unknown reason, you were not present in the following 97 gathering soon after your introduction. This struck Mingyu as strange, seeing as you were also a 97, and a friend of Jungkook's, so why would you not be present? It was soon after revealed to Mingyu that you had yet to be offered a spot in the now renown 97 squad. Jungkook had assessed that all the dating rumors that would come attached to the inclusion of a girl in the group were simply not worth it. He wanted to save you both the headache and the scandal. It seemed like a pretty reasonable decision. Mingyu, however, was not the most reasonable of people, often allowing his decision-making to be led by impulse rather than calculated choices. Which was why Mingyu had found himself walking up to you next time he spotted you at yet another comeback show, promptly asking you if you'd like to meet some of his friends sometime in the following week, claiming it was tradition for all 97s to go for a drink every other week. He felt like he was inviting you to join into a cult, or at least that's what you said to him it had felt like. But you had still agreed, giving him your number so that you could be privy to the details of the meeting.

Your admission to the friend group came very naturally, having already met a few of the members and easily befriending the rest. Yes, it had come with some controversy at first, but Mingyu had come to learn that you were quite strong-minded, not allowing a few rumors to get in the way of your personal life. It was easy for the two of you to grow close after that. Despite having befriended the entirety of the group, you and Mingyu seemed to form a more special bond, even seeking each other's company outside of group gatherings. It was all platonic, of course. Mingyu had quickly realized you did not seem interested in that way, so he tucked his crush deep within him, choosing to offer a friendship to you instead, never speaking of his crush to anyone. This was how the two of you came to become best friends.

This repression of his feelings, however, did not come without its consequences.

Mingyu was a hopeless romantic at heart. This meant that his crush never really went away. It actually worsened over the years that he knew you. But you never acted like anything other than a friend to him. You would always treat him the same way you did Jaehyun or Eunwoo. He was just another one of the members of the friend group to you. Yes, you two were closer in nature – calling each other the best of friends within the industry – but Mingyu did not want to risk that closeness just because of a selfish crush.

The repression of his feelings was also met with other things. Mingyu was a very loving man. He needed to express his love to everyone around him or he would physically explode (Okay, not really, but he swore that's what it felt like to him). He had a loving family to tend to by taking care of them financially and spending every waking minute away from work with. He had his thirteen best friends to shower with playful affection during and out of work. He had his 97-liners to play around with in between work schedules. What he did not have, however, was that one person who was his and only his. Someone to give the type of love that you reserve for only that one special person in your life.

Mingyu found himself seeking this person out since the beginning of time. Many would call Mingyu a womanizer or a player due to the high volume of relationships he had been involved in during his life. It wasn't like that, however. Not at all. Mingyu would date a girl he liked, would be happy with her, but would ultimately realize that the spark he was looking for was not there, causing him to regrettably end the relationship. He was often met with curses directed his way, but he felt it was best to try and end it amicably if he did not see a future there.

His most recent relationship had been with a former staff member. She was funny and sweet, and also pretty easy on the eyes. They got along very well when she first got assigned to Mingyu as part of his personal team. It started as a friendship, but it didn't take long for Mingyu's hopeless romantic tendencies to seek her out in a romantic way, something to which she obviously agreed to immediately. Mingyu had no issue getting women on his side. He had never dealt with rejection all his life. Being handsome, talented, funny, and even rich from a young age, it was rare to be met with anything but enthusiastic responses left and right. The relationship did not end amicably, however. Mingyu should've known better than to date someone who technically worked for him. I mean, he had been through this before (with one stylist, one MNET staff member, and a former Pledis recruiter to be specific), so he should've known by now that mixing business with pleasure was a bad idea. But his romantic tendencies couldn't be helped. He had too much love to give, and no one to give it to.

In the big year of 2023, Mingyu had found himself in five different relationships, all ranging in length.

His longest one had been three months, and it had been with a fellow idol whose name he'd rather keep to himself. Despite his friendly and easy-going demeanor, the relationship had ended terribly. He had realized three months in that he did not feel as strongly about her as she did him, choosing to try and end it on friendly terms. As per usual, his proposal to end it was met with curses and threats. It couldn't be helped, Mingyu was a catch, and his usual switch up in feelings (reasonably) stirred up feathers any time he realized he hadn't found the spark he was looking for in the respective relationship.

After that, Mingyu took a quick break from relationships, only to rebound with a random girl he met at a quiet pub in Seoul. One NDA later and he had her in his bed for a few weeks after that, only ending it after he got his head out of the gutter and focused on more the more important things aspects of his life once more. And the cycle repeated.

Throughout all of this, you didn't leave his mind for too long. From one relationship to another, a glimpse of your name would always be imbedded in his brain as he apologized to whichever girl he was with at the time, regretfully letting them know that he just didn't see it going further; that he was looking for someone something else. Despite having known you for a few years now, his feelings were still there. They had been in the back-burner for a while, but they'd resurface every once in a while. It made him feel guilty every single time, specially now that you had been in a relationship for a while.

Yes. You were in a relationship, which was one of the main reasons why Mingyu found himself serial-dating (and maybe sleeping around a bit, sans any involvement of feelings) more than usual this year.

You'd only been with that guy for eight months. It had started at the end of last year. Being best friends, you had let Mingyu know about the entirety of it. From your first meeting, to your first time holding hands, even to your first time sleeping together. It had been hell on Mingyu's side. He was in love with you; had been for years, and now he had to deal with watching you deliver your love to someone who was not him all while he watched from the sidelines, with a fake supportive smile that could never leave his face. The skill he had at hiding his feelings for you was truly unmatched. No one, not even his closest friends, knew about his feelings. Okay, there were a few exceptions, a few slips of the tongue when he was drunk and thinking of you a bit too much. Damn you, Jeon Wonwoo and Lee Seokmin for having been present that fateful night in which you'd texted him letting him know you'd be busy til the morning, excited that that night was the night you'd finally stay over at your boyfriend's for the first time. That had been a new low for Mingyu. He hadn't felt such a huge pit in his stomach as he did that day, knowing you'd be sleeping in the safety of someone else's arms (or doing much worse) while he pined for you in a tiny bar across the city.

That was more or less the time in which be had started dating around again. No matter his busy schedule, he needed his heart filled (and occasionally, his bed too). Unfortunately for him, that hollow in his heart could only be filled by you. His crush had been in the back-burner, sure, but it had never truly left him. The time you spent together was very scarce, as you two worked very busy idol schedules, but he cherished it immensely. Nothing truly compared to the relationship he had with you. The way you understood him and just fulfilled everything he could ever want in a girl was unmatched. He tried to keep these thoughts at bay, but every time he saw you made them resurface.

It had been a while since you two last each other. You were just returning from your tour, while he and his group prepared for theirs. The two of you kept up with each other through text almost on a daily basis, so he was surprised to see you as he walked the Hybe hallways, having been certain you were scheduled to arrive two days from now. These thoughts were put aside, however, the moment you spotted him and ran to him, pulling him in a hug. How was he not supposed to be enamored when you were so physically affectionate? When you felt so perfect in his hold? Other similarly delusional thoughts invaded his mind as he held you. Did you come back early to see him? He had told you he was leaving on his own tour soon, so maybe you wanted to catch him before he left. Had he been your first stop upon your return? I mean you were walking along the same hallway as Seventeen's practice room, surely you had been looking for him, right? His questions were answered almost immediately upon releasing you from his arms.

"Gyu! Missed you so much. God, it's been so long. How long has it be-"

"A month," it had been a whole month since you'd seen each other. Almost to the day. He had felt your absence very clearly.

"Too long. Hate that you're going on tour soon too," you threw him a pout, one that made him feel that maybe you meant it; that you'd miss him as much as he did you.

He was feeling melancholic lately for some reason. His feelings were heightened by your sudden presence.

"Only going to Japan for two weeks. It's fine, you'll have me back soon."

"Promise?"

"Yeah, baby, I pinky promise," he'd take you with him given the chance, "How come you're here earlier?"

"Oh! My boyfriend's sister has an engagement dinner this week. He insisted I go, so I asked if I could come back a bit earlier since we were already done with tour."

"Oh. Have you been to see him yet?", was that too obvious a question? He wanted some salvation that maybe he took at least a bit of priority over that guy.

"Nope. Wanted to stop by and see you first! I wasn't sure when you were leaving, so I didn't wanna risk meeting you."

All in life was restored now. This was all he needed to hear to ignite the spark once again. Okay, maybe a bit dramatic, but being Mingyu, he could feed himself for a month with the scraps you were throwing at him.

"Missed me that much?", he gave you a boyish smile, teasing you but with some hidden hope on the side.

"Shut up. You're so annoying. You're my one remaining friend. Everyone else is gone on tour! God, I hate touring season. If you don't come back by the end of the month, I swear to God ..."

"I'll be back soon, don't worry. You have your guy to keep you company anyways."

"Hah, yeah .. Well, uhm. I should probably go see him, actually. Call me later, though? We can go for a coffee or something. You know, before you leave and everything. When is that, by the way?"

You seemed a bit awkward at the mention of your boyfriend, despite you having even mentioned him earlier, but Mingyu chose to let it slide. It's not like he liked remembering his existence anyway.

"Thursday. You still have me for three days."

"Three?? Shit. Okay, so you absolutely should call me tonight, then. We'll hang out one of these days, okay? Promise me."

"You don't have to convince me, but okay. Pinky?"

You giggled, putting up your pinky to hook with his. This was a tendency of yours, born out of an inside joke Mingyu had already forgotten about, but you'd always pinky promise each other things. It was kind of your own personal thing, despite it seeming a bit childish for your age.

Pulling away, you said a final goodbye before threatening once more about calling you, saying you'd be seeing him off before he left. He agreed (obviously) and went on with his day, looking forward to hanging out with you one-on-one after being deprived of you for two months, while also cursing your shared company for scheduling you away from each other back to back.

The two of you only spoke on the phone for a few minutes, agreeing that you'd meet for coffee the following morning before heading to your specific schedules – the perks of working at the same company. You'd also agreed on having him over the following night for a few drinks as you bid him farewell on his short-lived Japan tour. Despite your boyfriend's dinner falling on that same day, you assured him that you'd be done on time to spend the night drinking with him; playing catchup. You'd usually invite some of the other members of the 97 squad, but most were busy, and seeing as you'd be meeting in your home, there was no need for more people in order to prevent scandal. There had already been a few instances in which the public believed you two to be dating, which was why you'd never hang out alone while in public.

Although most of the media had already gotten used to seeing the two of you together, knowing you were friends, there was still an entire subsection of your fans who believed there might be more there. As much as Mingyu wished for it to be true, he also felt bad for the scrutiny those dating rumors gave you. He'd be willing to fight for you if the occasion ever arose, but you'd need to at least look his way for that to happen; something that he was still working on.

"Hi, Gyu! Sit, I got your usual."

You had been sitting by a window at the Hybe cafeteria when he walked in. He had to get to the building a bit earlier in order to make time to see you, but the decision between sleeping an extra hour or getting to hang out with you before he left was a given for him.

"Hey, baby. Thanks."

"Sooo. Anything new? What did I miss while I was gone?"

He chuckled at your inquiries. You were always very interested in his life, always keeping up with everything he had to share. It was cute, really. Made him a bit delusional at times too. He'd imagine a different scenario; one in which you'd be laying in bed together at night, going over your respective days as you allowed slumber to take over.

"Nothing much. Had a comeback. I kinda told you about everything as it happened. You called me almost every other night."

It was true. You were kind of attached to the hip by now, communicating with Mingyu as much as you could. He sometimes wondered if that was the case with your actual boyfriend.

"Hmm. Okay. No new girls then?"

Ah. Okay, that was an area of his life he didn't really touch with you. He didn't want to give you the wrong impression. How was be supposed to explain his dating habits without you thinking he just gave it up to everyone? (Which he kind of did). There was no way for him to talk his way through it without revealing his feelings for you.

"Anyway. How's things with your guy? Ready for the dinner thingy tomorrow?"

'Nice segway, Gyu', you chuckled at his evasion, "Uh, yeah I guess. I bought a new dress and everything. Haven't had a chance to meet his family til now."

"You don't seem too enthusiastic. Trouble in paradise?", he knew that you knew he wasn't a fan of your boyfriend, but he also knew you weren't aware of the real reason why.

"It's not that, just ... I don't know. We've been, uh, arguing a bit more for a while," you looked a bit dejected as you said it, eyes on your drink instead of him.

"Oh. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"No, it's fine, Gyu, really. It's nice to be able to talk about it. It's just- I've been bugging you about my relationship since before it even started, I felt kinda embarrassed to bring this up. And I know you don't really like him. I just didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

Well, that all checked out. He would always evade any conversation about your romantic life, despite how frequently you brought up your boyfriend. It had stopped after a while, however. You had probably caught up on his lack of enthusiasm whenever you'd bring him up. It made him feel guilty that you'd actively hold back from airing your grievances to him, though. Had he been that obvious with his disdain for the subject?

"No, fuck. I'm sorry. You can always talk about it with me. Just .. been going through some stuff of my own, that's all. What's been going on? You can tell me. Always," he grabbed your hands across the table to offer you some comfort.

"Really? What's wrong, Gyu? You know you can talk to me too, right?"

He knew. He just couldn't bring himself to. Not yet. Maybe someday he'd be ready to risk the friendship and tell you, but for now he wanted to enjoy you by his side in whichever way you were willing to give yourself to him.

"It's nothing, don't worry about it," he offered you a soft smile, rubbing his thumbs reassuringly on the back of your hands, "Now tell me, what's up?"

"It's just ... He's been a bit pushy lately? We got into a fight about his sister's engagement dinner. He was mad I couldn't come, so I had to fix my schedule to make it. Management got mad at me about it too. God, I just don't know how to juggle both things, Gyu. I'm too busy, I- How do you do it?"

"Me? I'm the worst person you can ask. I haven't been in a serious relationship in years. And it doesn't matter anyway. It's not about me."

He wanted to go back to what you first said. Were you having issues with your boyfriend? He didn't want to relish on it, but he always saw something in him he didn't like. Getting in the way of your career was in no way okay in Mingyu's book. Who did he think he was?

"It's not your fault you're busy. He knew what he was getting into dating an idol," he continued, "You shouldn't let him feel like he can get in the way of your career. There's so many guys out there who would understand and support you."

Like him, for instance. He was an idol too, after all. He knew the struggle of dating in this medium all too well. No one would understand you the way he did. He wanted to scream it out for everyone to hear.

"Yeah, I know you're right. I know. It's just- it's been so hard to find someone. We're 26, Gyu. I'm ready for the long run. This is the longest relationship I've ever had. I know it hasn't even been a year, but I know I want to settle down someday soon. I ... I really like him, Gyu. What do I do?"

It felt like a punch in the gut. He enjoyed being in denial, pretending like your current boyfriend was just a placeholder while the real deal – Mingyu – came along, but that plan wouldn't really work unless you were also on board. So now he was forced to face reality and give you some friendly advice. It was too bad he liked you so much, because he couldn't help himself in giving you genuine advice instead of attempting to sabotage your relationship as any other reasonable person would.

"Try to talk it out with him. I mean, he should know by now how busy your schedule is, but sometimes it's hard for people to really understand. Tell him your issues and let him tell you his. Communication is the best thing you can do."

Damn him for being so emotionally smart and in touch with his feelings. He did not want to do your boyfriend any favors, but he prioritized your happiness over his own stupid feelings. It was a catch 22, except he always ended up making the desicion that favored your happiness the most.

"Yeah ... you're right, Gyu. Thank you. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to turn this into couple's counseling. I'll shut up about my relationship now, okay? Let's, uh, talk about your comeback. Wanna record a tiktok with me before you leave?"

He decided to let you rest from what was probably a very stressful subject for you at the moment. Likelihood was that you'd keep him updated on it sooner or later. So, he chose to play along with you instead and change the subject, now finally catching up with you as he ignored your boyfriend's existence, pretending in his head that this wasn't just the platonic hangout you intended it to be, but something more.

The next day came sooner than anticipated. Mingyu's days always had a tendency of blending together whenever he had a comeback. Being an idol, he had to get used to the hectic nature of the job, even growing to enjoy it at some points.

The two of you had agreed to meet at 8-ish. You had told him that your boyfriend's sister's dinner was more of a brunch than an actual dinner, that you'd call him up at some point to let him know you'd be home to receive him into your abode for some drinks.

He didn't think too much of it when it turned into 8:00 and you hadn't called him. When time passed until 8:30, he began to wonder if something happened, but decided against contacting you. It was at about 9:15 that he finally received a text from you apologizing for your delay and letting him know that he could stop by whenever, that you had food and drinks ready for him waiting for his arrival. Once again, he decided not to question the delay, simply being content that he'd get some one-on-one time with you before he left for two grueling weeks for the Japan leg of his tour.

You welcomed him as per usual; with a tight hug and a peck on the cheek. He never thought much of it, but still always relished on it. Conversation flew as usual for the first thirty minutes, with Mingyu telling you stories of things that had happened with his members during your absence, but he could sense you weren't at your best. Asking was still not something he felt like doing, however. He didn't want to intrude in case you didn't feel like talking about it, and he also didn't want to hear about your relationship again. It was selfish, but there was only so much a man could take. Usually when you had an issue you would just tell him, so he chose to just let you take the reins. Your communication with each other was always very seamless, which was why he wasn't surprised when you finally brought it up a few moments after the thought flew through his mind.

"Sorry I'm a bit off today, Gyu," you chuckled, nursing your second beer of the night.

"Couldn't even tell, don't worry about it," that was a bit of a lie, but he didn't want you to feel badly on top of whatever was going on on your side of things.

"Don't lie to me. You read me better than anyone."

It was said in a lighthearted tone, but he knew you were right. He was always able to get a perfect read on you. He knew you, and you knew him in the way any pair of best friends would (sorry, Wonwoo).

"Okay, what's up? Did something happen at the brunch?"

You groaned dramatically, letting yourself fall back on the recline of the couch.

"Okay, so that's a yes ... Wanna talk about it?"

'Is it okay if I do? I'm sorry, I know I said I'd stop, but, it's kinda important this time."

That piqued his interest. And not in a good way.

"We, uh, we're taking a break."

Oh.

Admittedly, that really caught Mingyu off guard. For the entirety of your relationship with your boyfriend (even during the talking stage), you had never informed Mingyu of any problems between the two of you until yesterday, when you brought up his insistence at your return from tour, along with the frequent of arguments with him. You'd been the picture-perfect relationship in the eyes of anyone who was privy to your personal life, which was yet another reason why Mingyu always avoided speaking about your romantic life. Bitterness was something Mingyu rarely felt, but your relationship always brought it out in him. He also had always had a feeling about your boyfriend. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he just knew. Regardless, hearing that things weren't only not going well, but even going badly enough to require a break, surprised him.

"Oh, I- Fuck, I'm sorry. You should've told me. Fuck, I feel like a dick just talking about some stupid story about Vernon when you're dealing with this. What- what happened?"

"It's fine, Mingyu, really. It's not that big of a deal, I .. I kinda saw it coming," you certainly didn't seem heartbroken, but you still looked dimmer than usual.

"Do you wanna talk about it?", he scoot up to sit closer to you, knees now touching as you faced each other on the couch.

"It was what you'd expect. I tried to talk to him about my schedule; how I can't just drop my job for things that aren't that important, like some random brunch. He took it personally. He even picked a fight in front of his family. God, it was so embarrassing. It, uh, it ended up with me asking him for some space."

"Oh ... Baby, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you to talk to him on an important day like that. That was terrible advice from me, I'm sorry."

"No, Gyu. It's fine! You were right. I needed to talk to him. I thought he'd understand, but I guess I misread him. I- I don't know what's gonna happen. It was a pretty big argument. He brought the argument all the way back to his apartment once the brunch ended. That's why I was late tonight. Fuck, I don't even know if we're broken up."

"What did you say? What did he say?", he felt like a teenage girl snooping for details in his friend's relationship, but he genuinely felt bad. Had his constant wishful hopes for you two to break up cause this? No, that was stupid. But he still felt bad for not having been too supportive of the relationship despite being your best friend.

"He said that if I'm not willing to prioritize his family, then he didn't see much of a future. I told him that my job didn't even give me the privilege prioritize my own family, so he'd have to wait for things to get less hectic for me. He didn't like that, so he started to get agitated ... He scared me a bit, so I told him we should just take a break away from each other. He, uh, he just told me to get out after that."

Jesus Christ. Had you been bottling this up since he got here? He felt like a terrible friend for making you feel like you couldn't talk to him about it. Yeah, maybe he had prayed for the day you'd finally break up, but now that it was (maybe) here, he felt like he had been the cause of your sadness. Except you didn't look too sad; more so disappointed.

"I- I'm so sorry," he went to hold you against him, "Had you been keeping this to yourself this whole time? Fuck, you should've cancelled on me. I would've understood. Are you okay? Never mind, of course you're not. I, shit, How can I help you? What do you need?"

You giggled against his chest at his rambling, something that made his heart swell despite the circumstances.

"I'm fine, Gyu, I promise. I didn't wanna make our last night together before you leave about him. I know I said I like him a lot, but .. honestly, I saw a different side of him tonight. I do feel a little sad; like I wasted my time for the past year I've known him, specially these past eight months, but I know my worth. Besides, all I wanted tonight was to drink with you. Being with you always makes me feel better."

Oh. Oh.

How did you expect him not to read into things when you said something like that? It was like you were screaming at him to make you his. And he wanted to. God, did he want to.

Instead he reached over the coffee table in front of your couch, grabbing another pair of bottles of soju before gesturing to you.

"Well, if it'll make you feel better, I can't really argue against it, can I?", and with that, he opened both bottles, handing you one as the two of you swung them with no cares in the world.

It was quite common for the two of you to drink together. Granted, you'd usually be accompanied by either the 97s or some of his own members, but if you felt like drinking with him would help you forget about your (hopefully) ex, then so be it.

Only about an hour passed by the time you were both tipsy.

The subjects of conversation varied a lot, from fun fan interactions during your tour, weird moments in interviews, fights with your group mates, to some more personal stuff.

You were currently playing a tipsy version of 20 questions, or at least that's what it seemed like as you took turns to question the other. Nothing was off the table.

"Soooo, who's the last girl you hooked up with?"

"Oh, I, uh-"

"I know you don't like to talk about your relationships to me, which I don't really get by the way," you said in a jokingly scolding tone as you dug your finger accusingly in his chest, "but cmon. Tell meee."

He remained a silent, but blubbering mess. Did you mean hook up, or relationship? There had been multiple instances of both which you had been unaware of until now.

"Was it Nayeon? Seokmin said you dated an idol for a few months," you giggled at his widened eyes.

"What? Seokmin? I'm gonna kill him- No! I never dated Nayeon. We're just friends, I-"

"Good. I never liked her for you."

"Huh? What? Why not?"

Not that he was ever interested in her (They were just friends, truly!), but he was curious as to your reasoning.

"I don't know. Gut feeling?", you took another swing of your third soju bottle of the night, "I've never really liked any of the girls you've been with. Is that mean of me?", the question was accompanied by a playful pout, which unintentionally drew his eyes to your lips.

"Why's that, baby?", he took the bottle from your hands, setting in on the table next to his. Suddenly he felt a bit less tipsy, sobering up at your unexpected bluntness.

"They just .. None have felt right for you. They're not good for you," you sounded like a petulant child as you said it, sitting up a bit, causing your body to lean further closer to his own, faces now closer than usual.

Oh? Did you-

"Do you-"

"Gyu," you breathed out.

Shit, when had you gotten so close?

"Y/N, I-"

"Shh. It's okay, Gyu. Right?," your eyes had slowly descended to his lips, making his own copy your movements.

By now you were basically on his lap, your face towering over his as he slowly nodded at your question, ready for you to finally close the gap but still gasping against you once the proximity had ceased to exist.

His moan against your lips couldn't be helped, nor could the way his arms wrapped around you, pulling you impossibly closer. The alcohol had not yet reached a point where it could rid him of his inhibitions, but had instead made his senses even more sensitive. Neither of you were lightweights, so Mingyu knew that the alcohol had boldened you more than anything. He thanked the courage it had given the both of you to finally end up here.

He gave you the best of him in his kiss, tongue swiping against yours almost immediately as he played with it. He toyed with your bottom lip, swallowing the moan that came as a result. You felt so soft against him; so sweet and delicate. There had been no night in which he didn't dream of your lips against his. The real thing had thrown him a curveball, making him unsure of what to do other than moan against your lips as his hands ran up and down your back.

You pulled away first, or well, tried to. Mingyu did a good job of following your lips with a whine, licking into your open mouth as he incited you into continuing the kiss. He was the one to break it next, only to pepper kisses along your neck, enjoying the feeling of your head being thrown back.

"Gyu ..."

"Please ... Just let me ..."

He felt bad kissing you like this when you had just (maybe?) broken up with your boyfriend, but he couldn't help himself. This was like dangling a meal in front of a starving man, asking him to please take a bite. There was no way for him to deny you when you had seeked him out first.

You disconnected his lips from your neck, looking into his eyes. Your expression let him know you were pondering your choices, eyes going from his eyes to his lips. He whined against you as you decided to attack him with yet another kiss, this time more vulgar in nature.

The two of you kissed for long enough for Mingyu to lose his sanity, finally taking initiative to carry you to your room, not once allowing you to disconnect your lips. The entirety of it was sensual, from the removal of your clothes to the feel of your lips against each other. You, lying in bed with only some thin panties and a tiny bralette to cover your intimate parts had him losing his mind. Was this real? Did he really have the girl of his dreams in bed, eyeing his almost nude body like she wanted to do very disrespectful things to him?

"Gyu ... Please, I need you."

He finally leaned over you, allowing your most intimate parts to finally touch, only the two thin layers of your respective underwear separating you. Slowly, he dragged his length against your cunt, groaning at the way your nails dug onto his back as a result, with your own back arching. Your chest was pressed up against his, making him grow frustrated and ripping off your bra in order to feel your hardened buds drag against his chest as your hips connected.

Ungluing his body from yours, he finally dragged down your panties, taking a moment to look at the entirety of your nude body.

"You ... You gorgeous thing, fuck. Do you even know how perfect you are? Your body ... Jesus Christ. How do you not have people on their knees begging to be buried between your legs every single day?," his voice showed genuine frustration as he said this, getting down on his own knees and beginning to lick and suck at your thighs.

"I ... Just want y- you ... Want you just like this."

"Like this, angel? On my knees, begging for cunt?"

His tongue itched for you, causing him to finally begin licking at your clit ever so lightly, groaning at the smell of your cunt.

"Ple- please! Gyu, I need ... You don't understand, I need you so-"

"I dont understand? Oh, baby ... I'm gonna break you .. Gonna make this cunt cry for me by the time I'm finished, don't you worry, angel."

Those were the last words spoken by him before finally burying his face nose-deep into your cunt. His cries and groans against your warmth couldn't be helped. He had no control over himself as he dove in and gave you everything he had to offer. Your cries and grinds against his face were not helping things at all. His own hips ground against the mattress as he took in all your pretty sounds of pleasure. Causing you to lose your mind like this made him lose his own tenfold. He had wanted nothing more than to make you his ever since that fateful day in which he turned the TV on back in the green room and saw you dancing on stage. His crush had haunted him for too many years, taunting him upon your first meeting and up to this very moment. But karma had finally smiled his way. He wasn't sure what he'd done in order for karmic retribution to gift you to him, but he'd do it over and over again if it meant he could keep you all to himself.

"Oh, Gyu ... Feel so good. Shit, so fucking good. I- God, pl- please don't stop!"

Oh. You were so ... You wanted him to cum in his pants, didn't you? That had to be why you insisted on sounding so damn pretty when moaning his name.

"Keep moaning my name, beautiful. W- wanna hear you, fuck, please," he begged against your sopping cunt, "Nd grind that pretty pussy against me. Use my nose, my tongue, anything, just ... Wanna feel that tiny little cunt cream all over my face."

His words also seemed to have some type of effect on you. You began to push his head against you in an uncontrolled manner, crying in high-pitched whines that made his own eyes roll back. He knew he'd cum like this. He couldn't even be embarrassed by the thought. Cumming because a beautiful girl – you of all people? – was crying his name so prettily? Using his face to stimulate your cunt with no care in the world? The simple thought would've had him creaming his boxers.

Then he made the dire mistake of looking up.

You wanted him dead. If he wasn't sure before, he was now. Your mouth was open while your eyes were crossed, nose scrunched up at the pleasure. There was not a single thought behind those eyes. You were clearly lost to the pleasure. One of your hands was buried in his hair while the other toyed at your hardened buds. He made a mental note to lavish your breasts with attention whenever he was given the chance. He'd always dreamed of making you cry as he abused your tits with his tongue for hours on end. So many ideas were cruising through his mind at what he wanted to do to you. But these thoughts were interrupted by your loudest cry of the night, followed by warm cream invading his senses. His orgasm against your bedsheets followed immediately after.

The taste of your cream and the sound of your voice had forced him into his own orgasm. He made sure to let all his groans of pleasure land right against your cunt, as he was unable to stop licking at you even after your orgasm had ended. You whined at him a bit until he finally allowed you to push him away, letting out a whine of his own at the separation. The two of you stared at each other for a bit before he lost all control again, jumping on you as he shoved his tongue in your mouth. The kiss was extremely filthy; just an absolute mess of tongues as he gave you as much of your own essence as he could. He even went as far as begging you to stick out your tongue so he could spit on it, but growing too distracted and sucking on it with his own instead. His hands went crazy along your curves, not knowing where to stay as he found a new favorite spot to touch every few seconds.

His thoughts were once again interrupted by you, as you allowed your hands to find way to his dick, which was somehow hard again after just a few minutes of disrespecting your mouth with his tongue. He opened his own mouth against yours, groaning when you licked into his tongue as your hands sped up on his cock. He'd let you have as much fun with his body as you wanted. You didn't even have to ask, he'd just give you anything with no question.

"Want it in my mouth, Gyu ... Fuck. I- I've been dreaming about it ... Please let me have it in my mouth?"

That was the moment his brain stopped functioning, head falling into the crook of your neck as he cursed you out.

You ... You'd dreamt of his cock ... in your mouth? You wanted to choke on his dick? Wanted him to lose his mind as you looked up at him with those pretty eyes all while he disrespected your throat? You were begging for it? Oh ... Oh, fuck.

"Gyu?"

"A- anything ... God, I'll give you anything, just ... Yes! Please ... Wanna fuck that pretty mouth, baby, please? I'll give it to you. Just ... just never beg me like that again, okay? Can't ... can't hear you beg."

That seemed to pique your interest.

"Oh? Why not, baby? What if i wanna beg for your cock to bruise my throat? What if ..." you pressed your lips to his ear, "... I wanna beg to bounce on your cock until I cry? Am I not allowed?"

"Angel ... God, please ..."

"Can I have your cock now, baby?"

He nodded as your lips overtook his, whining at the bare thought of your lips wrapped around him. Which is what came next, but not without some teasing from you. You kissed down his body, sucking and licking at your favorite parts before finally landing on his aching cock.

It was sensitive from his previous orgasm, but you didn't care, simply choosing to lightly suck and lick at his tip, dragging your tongue along the vein ever so slowly. You took mercy on him after a few minutes of teasing, finally taking the whole thing into your mouth like an expert. You bobbed at a slow and sensual speed, eyes constantly on his as you did it. Eventually you gave him the green light to cant his hips against your mouth, making him throw his head back at the vibrations from your moans. The sight of your eyes crossed in pleasure also didn't help matters. Once more, he found himself cumming embarrassingly fast, groaning again when you swallowed as much of his load as you could muster.

He brought you up to sit on his lap, caressing your body tenderly as he thanked you for being so so good to him. You seemed exhausted, so he made sure to clean you up before tugging you under his covers, joining you soon after.

The two of you laid against each other, shy and tender touches being the only thing you could do to each other in your tired states.

"Gyu ... Thank you for being with me tonight. Thank you for taking care of me."

God, you were adorable.

With a kiss on your nose, he responded, "I'm always here for you, you know that. Thank you for being so ... so perfect for me, angel."

"Shut up ..." you whined as you buried your face in his chest out of embarrassment.

"Sleep, angel. Let me hold you in my arms as you sleep."

The next morning, the two of you woke up a mess of limbs. Today was the day in which Mingyu was meant to get on a plane and head to Japan for the next two weeks. But his mind wouldn't allow him to disconnect from you. You were so warm and soft in his hold. He'd need a whole army to pry him away from your touch.

Just in that moment, you turned to look at him, hand softly landing on his cheek upon realizing he was awake. He leaned against your touch, relishing in the soft way you caressed him.

"Gyu ... Last night ..."

"It was a dream ... You were so beautiful. You're so beautiful, angel. Made me feel so good."

His smile wouldn't leave his face. He wanted to wax poetic at you, tell you how in love with you he was, but he didn't want to scare you away just yet.

"You don't regret it?," you were pouting at him, head tilted in a questioning manner.

"I'd never regret you."

"Oh ... That's ... Sorry I jumped you like that. I .. I don't regret it either. I was afraid maybe you were just humoring me."

"Of course not. It was all real for me. Was, uh, was it real for you too?"

You smiled at him, pulling him in for a quick peck, "Of course it was, Gyu. It was so .. it was perfect. I just, fuck, I feel ... I need to call him."

You ... You were thinking of him? He thought he'd be out of the picture the moment your lips landed on his. Why was he even in your mind?

"Call him? Wh-"

"I need to officially break up with him. We never actually broke up. I need to tell him .. I don't want to carry this in my conscience. No break, just need to end it officially."

"Oh. I thought-"

"No, Gyu. There's ... There's no choice between the two of you. It's you," you paused with a sigh, "but I just need to talk to him. I don't want to be a cheater. I need to end it before anything else happens."

You seemed to feel guilty at the thought of going back to him, but Mingyu understood. He didn't want to get in the way of something you felt like you had to do in order to clear your conscience. He had waited for you for years, he could wait for another week or so to officially have you in his arms.

"I understand, angel. Don't worry. I'll wait as long as you need."

Your sigh in relief was all he needed to hear to know his feelings were mutual. The two of you wanted the same thing.

"Thank you, Gyu, really. It's all such a mess right now, but I promise it'll all be settled by the time you get back."

He groaned at the mention of his absence. He finally got you and now not only did you have to deal with your ex while he was gone, but he couldn't have you in his arms again for at least another week. Life was laughing at him once more.

"Fuck. I need to get ready, angel."

"Yeah. I'll get dressed and let you get ready. I'll see you at Hybe later?"

He hummed, "Wanna kiss me goodbye"

"Shut up and get dressed, Gyu."

Your goodbye had been quick, seeing as you'd already given him the best farewell gift last night. You bid him goodbye with the promise that you'd update him on your conversation with your ex as soon as it concluded. He left with the promise that he'd think of nothing but you until his return. He was yet to make you privy of the gravity of his feelings, but he was happy to know that you felt similarly to him, wanting to pursue something with him despite having been only best friends this whole time.

The days passed naturally, with a few performances taking up his time and keeping him occupied. Thoughts of you did not leave his mind, however. There had been no updates on your situation with your ex for the first week, nor had the two of you spoken too much. You were preparing for a comeback and he was busy with the short Japanese leg of his tour. The two of you had too many prior engagements to really indulge in what had happened the day of Mingyu's departure, which was something that kept him up at night. Neither of you had made mention of it in your texts to one another thus far. He was scared that his window was closing. You wouldn't do that to him, would you? Or did you think he was just trying to get his dick wet? People did assume Mingyu was a serial dater, dating women and immediately dropping them. Had he used you in a vulnerable moment? Fuck. All these thoughts kept his mind running like crazy.

He just needed you to bring it up first, then he could finally get some clarification on the current state of your relationship. All he wanted was to hear something of substance from you following your separation, but there had been nothing he could cling to thus far.

It wasn't until the eighth day of his stay in Japan that he finally received the first phone call from you. Not a text, but finally a verbal form of communication.

"Hello?"

"Baby! Hi! How have you been?"

"Hi, Gyu. I'm good. How's everything going? Having fun?"

"Yeah. Miss you, though. Uh, been waiting for you to call, actually. Didn't wanna be pushy or anything. Fuck, sorry. I'm being pushy right now, aren't I?"

"No, Gyu. It's fine. I actually did call you about that ..."

"Oh. Did you ... did you talk to him?"

"Yeah. I just got back from his place. It took me a while to reach him, but, uh, yeah, we spoke."

You were being evasive, he could tell. The myriad of possible reasons as to why had his heart racing. He was never one to feel nerves around a girl, but you were the sole exception. He'd always been secure of your friendship, but every time his feelings for you would invade his mind – just like right now – he would panic and not know how to work his way through a simple conversation.

"How did it go?"

"He kissed me."

Oh.

He had no response for that. He knew he should've expected something like this. I mean, what kind of man would let one argument get in the way of being with you? Except there had been a Mingyu-shaped obstacle in the way now, and he was not planning to get out of the way. It still made his heart drop, however. The thought of his lips on yours after Mingyu had finally claimed you as his made a frown find a way onto his face.

"I'm sorry, Gyu. He did it as soon as he let me in. I guess he wanted to try and make up for the fight with sex, or something. I stopped him, though," you sighed, "I told him it was over. That it had been for a while. He put up a fight, begged for me to say, but I couldn't do it. Not after what we did ... It was horrible, Gyu."

"I'm so sorry. I can't imagine. I wish I'd been there for you, I should've taken the brunt of it, I-"

"I didn't bring you up," you interrupted, "It felt mean and disrespectful. We were still technically together when we slept together. I- I couldn't do that to him."

"Oh. I ... I understand, angel. It's okay, it's over now. Now we can move on together. It's okay if it takes you a while, I'll wait."

A few seconds passed until he heard a response from you.

"Mingyu ... What are we doing? I can't do this to you, I- I can't get you involved in my mess like this. I'm sorry I made you an accomplice to my cheating. I care about you so much. I didn't mean to use you when I was just sad and vulnerable."

"You .. you what? Baby, it's nothing like that! You didn't cheat, you weren't together. I don't care about any of that, you know that!", it was difficult for him to not get exasperated right away. Where was this coming from?

You were clearly getting emotional too. He could hear your sniffles and the dejected tone of your voice.

"I can't make you my rebound, Mingyu. I love you too much to do that to you. You're my best friend."

There were those two words again. Best friend. He wanted to be your best friend until the end of time, but he wanted more. He truly thought he was more than that to you by now.

"I love you. So much. Please. We- we can't do this over the phone, okay? Please, just ... don't make any rash decisions like this. I'll be back in four days. Can I come see you? Can we talk about this?"

He didn't care how desperate he sounded as he plead to you. There was still hope that he could talk to you and make you understand how he felt. He hadn't given himself the chance to even try yet; life kept getting in the way. And he was sure you felt the same. The way you felt against him, your cries of his name, your sweet smile as he held you in his arms in the aftermath ... None of that could have been just due to a pesky rebound. No, it was all real, he knew it.

"Yeah, Gyu, okay. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to put all this onto you. I'll see you when you're back, okay? I'm taking a few days off before our comeback begins. You can just come to my house whenever you're back in Seoul."

"Yeah, I .. I'll do that. Goodnight, angel. I love you."

"Love you too, Gyu."

The next few days without any communication from you had been absolute hell for Mingyu. He knew it was for the best; to not plague your mind with any more thoughts of him. You needed time on your own so that you could think. Mingyu, on the other hand, could've used the opposite. He thought of you nonstop. Those four days felt like eternity. Even as he performed and hung out with his friends, thoughts of you never stayed away from his mind for too long.

When the day of his return finally arrived, Mingyu was a wreck. Somehow he had been able to keep his turmoil of emotions a secret from his members. It was for the best, he thought. Wishful thinking had him holding onto the hope that the first time he ever brought up the situation to his friends would be by the time you were officially his girlfriend. However, this meant that the only person privy to his scrambled thoughts was himself.

With no one to ask for feedback or advice on the situation, Mingyu decided to just head straight to you. He had been in love with you for years, he didn't need to rehearse his confession to you when he'd already gone over it in his head endlessly times through the years.

Arriving to your door had been the worst of it. The ringing of your doorbell was followed by the sole sound of his heart pounding right out of his chest at hearing faint steps getting closer from the opposite side of the door. His breath caught in his throat as soon as you opened it.

He had seen you in all states, – from glammed up to recently awoken, both equally as beautiful – but the heightened emotions of the situation made him see you with rose-colored glasses (even more rose-colored than the ones he already saw you with). He had missed you immensely, that much was obvious. You had been gone for a month and had spent the best night of his life with him, only for him to leave for another two weeks right away. He realized now how much he'd been craving you these past few weeks.

"Hi."

"Hi, Gyu. Come in, please."

The air felt heavy. It was too serious for Mingyu's liking, but he was willing to do anything to show you that that night had not been just a fluke caused by your recent break up, even if it meant a grueling conversation in which he detailed the intensity of his feelings for you.

You two remained standing near the door even after crossing the threshold into your home. He wished to remain close to you; not allow you any more distance than you'd already had these two weeks away from each other. He was ready to talk the moment you turned around from locking the door, facing him as he looked down at you. He had meant to speak before anything else, he really did. It wasn't his fault that he had miscalculated his distance, ending up almost trapping you against the door. It also wasn't his fault that you looked so pretty as you stared at him with your widened eyes. What was his fault, however, was the soft kiss that landed against your lips just mere moments later. You had been at fault too, as you returned the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck as you allowed him to push you against the door.

The kiss heated up a bit, but remained tender and sensual. Tongues played with each other as you breathed into each other's mouths. His arms wrapped around your waist, palms flat against the arch of your back. You fit perfectly against him. He hadn't enjoyed your kiss to the fullest extent that fateful night. He hadn't kissed you with the love you deserved. It had all been a mess of passion and lust, unlike now, in such a tender moment that allowed him to relish on every single sigh against his lips.

It was when he finally ran out of breath that he first spoke up, faces still just mere inches away as his hooded eyes looked into yours.

"There's ... there's no way you could possibly believe that night didn't mean something," be breathed, "There's no way you haven't realized by now."

"Realized what?", your breath was just as heavy, face tilted towards his as your lips remained within breathing distance of his.

"You really don't know?", his hands were running up and down your back, pressing you to his chest him with every swipe of them along the length of your back, "I've been discreet, but .. you have to know, right?"

"Gyu, tell me. What don't I know?"

"How indescribably in love with you I am," he whispered against your lips, swallowing your gasp.

"Were you playing dumb, angel? Making me watch you be with him as I waited for you to look my way? You must've felt it that night; the love I've been keeping under lock and key. You know, don't you, baby? You have to know."

"Gyu, I-"

"I waited for you for so many years. Waited patiently for you. And then came him ... But even then, I waited, and .. fuck. You finally gave yourself to me. Only for you to call me a rebound? Was I a rebound, angel? Does this feel like a rebound to you?"

Halfway through his confession, he had begun to pepper kisses along the side of your neck, drinking in every single sigh of pleasure you let out. This wasn't exactly the speech he had envisioned himself giving you all these years, but you were soft and pliant in his arms as he accused you of playing dumb to his feelings, so things seemed to be working.

"N-no ... You're not a rebound, Gyu, I ... Fuck, you're everything to me."

"Everything? Were you willing to throw your everything away just like that, then? Were you scared, angel? Scared of how much you felt that night?", he brought his lips back to yours, almost pressing them together but not really.

"Yes ... Gyu, I need ..." you chased for his lips, but he wouldn't give them to you so easily, no matter how badly he wanted to swallow any and all of your cries.

"I need to hear you say it. Need you to tell me."

"I love you, Gyu," you gulped, eyes glassy and beautiful, "That night ... wanted more. Needed more. I should- I should've broken up with him so long ago. The moment I began to compare him to you. He was nothing. He's nothing. I love you. I'm sorry, I didn't-"

He kissed you then, interrupting the rambles he had only ever dreamed of hearing from you. You'd thought of him? Wanted him to be the one holding you close at night? Had he known, he would've fallen to his knees the moment your heart opened up to him. He didn't care when your feelings for him began, he would've dropped everything in that moment to reciprocate.

"You wanted me? Were you waiting for me too, beautiful? Huh? Did you ache for me as I did you?", it was as if he'd burn if his lips strayed away from you further than a few measly inches. Every word was spoken against your mouth as you whined for his lips to find home against yours again.

"I need you .. Need you so fucking bad. Can I have you? Can I finally make you mine?"

This time you took control, dragging him down as you kissed him with everything you had to give, moaning affirmations against his lips. That's all he needed to wrap your legs around his waist and take you to your room once more. He had no time to waste. Knowing his feelings to be mutual was driving him insane, making his brain short circuit at all the implications behind your confession. Had you thought of him every night as he did you? Had these past two weeks been agony remembering every second of that night? If you felt even half as miserable as he did while aching for you to be his, then he truly needed to show you what he'd been wanting to give to you all these years.

He laid you on your bed, making quick work of your clothes as he unwrapped you, mouth watering at your nudity. His hands had their fun, feeling every soft inch of your body as his ears fed on every single whine whenever he'd pass by a particularly sensitive spot. His mouth was like a magnet the moment his eyes landed on your tits. His plan to make you cry as he abused your nipples with his lips had been on the back of his mind since that first night. He had wanted to go through with it now, but your cunt was begging for him just south from him, making him eventually get back on track.

You had been equally as desperate in getting his clothes off, feeling him up in a way that had him feeling filthy. Your desperation for him was making him lightheaded. The thought of being an object for your pleasure crossed his mind for a moment. His mind would've stayed there for a while had you not interrupted him with a whine of his name.

"Fuck me. Please, Gyu ... Need you so bad."

"Angel, need to prepare you, just give me a min-"

"No! I'm ready, Gyu. I promise! Just .. please ..."

Fuck. He couldn't hold back if you looked at him with those eyes, quite literally begging for cock to impale the pretty pussy that he'd been aching to have against his tongue.

With one hand, he grabbed onto his aching cock, using his other hand to position your hips in order to give him perfect access to your cunt. He used his dominant hand to drag the tip of his cock against your swollen clit, groaning at the stimulation against his slit. You matched his reaction by arching your back against your bed, begging him to please put it in. He could only handle a little bit of teasing until his cock finally began to push through your walls. Your cunt gave resistance, but you insisted that the stretch was delicious, begging him to not hold back.

"Feel so good ... Fuck, Gyu, you're so big ..."

He didn't need any type of ego boost, but your soft sighs at his size made his mind go blank, causing him to speed up his entrance, swallowing a loud whine from your lips to his.

"O- oh, fuck! Baby ... you're so fucking tight, shit!", he had imagined the feeling of your walls wrapped around him ever since he could remember, but no dream he could conjure could compare to the reality of it.

You were off worse than him. Your mouth was open and your eyes rolled back. You were practically a limp doll, mewling at him to 'please give you more' every so often. He just couldn't hold back at the sight, giving you everything you wanted with every single thrust.

He pounded into you so animaliatically that the your moans had begun to be drowned out by the sound of the headboard slamming against the wall. It was like the room was shaking from the intensity in which he fucked you, but you wouldn't stop crying for more. Mingyu's ability to think had died the moment he kissed you, which added to the myriad of reasons why he was unable to stop ramming into you even as tears clouded his eyes. At some point, however, he finally snapped back into reality, deciding to go for an intense yet more mellow pace.

He wanted to enjoy you; to see you lose your mind on his cock. Your pretty eyes staring up at him with tears welling in them made him lower his face down to yours to give you a quick peck. You responded by putting one of your hands on his cheek (which had previously been dragging its nails deliciously across his back) to keep him close to you.

"L-love you so much," you hiccuped.

"Oh, angel ... You have no idea."

He was close now. The mere affection behind your eyes had made him want to fill you up more than anything. And you seemed to be in the same state, as not even seconds later you began to beg him to let you cum.

"Angel, need you to cum with me, okay? Need that pussy strangling my dick, fuck. Please."

"Gyu .. Gonna cum. Fuck. Come with me, please! Want you to fill me up so bad ..."

"I'll give it to you, angel. I'll give you anything you want. My beautiful girl."

He pulled you even closer to him, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he felt you tighten up once more. His fingers had been toying with your clit the moment he suspected your orgasm was on its way, only accelerating the process. His load spurt inside of you the second your orgasm took over you, making him press his face even further into your neck whining as his hips went crazy against your cunt.

Your screams made him lose the tiny bit of sanity he had left, digging the soles of your feet into his back as you pulled him to meld with your body. The two of you shook against each other for a minute or so before you finally went limp. Mingyu immediately took action, positioning so you could cuddle into the bed. He'd worry about cleaning you up later (Maybe by taking you to your shower and burying his face between your legs). Now, he wanted to feel you pressed up against him as he caressed you and told you how badly he loved you.

You sat up a bit, although still being held in his arms, and looked attentively into his eyes.

"Angel?"

"I'm sorry, Mingyu .. I'm sorry I made everything so complicated. I didn't realize how much I liked you until that night and I was scared I had just used you without realizing it. I love you, I'm sorry."

His heart swelled up at the confession. He already had a pretty clear idea of your feelings after the past hour of making love, but hearing a confession come from your lips had been something he had always dreamed of hearing.

"Shhh," he held you even tighter, "I love you. There's nothing you could do to ever make me stop. If this is what needed to happen for us to be together, I'd go through it ten times over. Just wanted you to be mine."

"I'm yours, Gyu. I promise."

"Yeah? You know you can't get rid of me now, right?", he chuckled, "If you thought I was touchy before, just you wait."

"Shut up. You say that like it's a threat," you giggled against him, lightly smacking his chest.

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

You spent the night holding each other and bantering in your bed. You finally spoke of everything surrounding your lives as of late, even touching on your feelings for one another and the respective gravity of them through the years. Mingyu felt embarrassed revealing the intensity of his own, but enjoyed the way you'd gasp and giggle at his commentary, so it was impossible for him to stop.

"Since pre-debut?? You really liked me since then?"

He cringed but laughed nonetheless, "Yeah ... I don't know. I saw your debut stage and I just couldn't take my eyes off you. I kept up with your group after that until Jungkook introduced us."

"Oh my god? Did Jungkook know? Did anyone?"

"Some of my members did, but I was discreet. You didn't like me back, so I didn't want to impose it on you."

You frowned at that, "Gyu, I-"

"Hey, it's okay. I got the girl now, didn't I? Took a while but now I get you forever. Nice trade off, I think."

"Were you this nice to all those other girls?", you were teasing him now.

You'd merely laughed when he revealed his dating habits to you. The ones he kept hidden to ensure you wouldn't assume him to be some type of womanizer. You'd even coo'd at him upon hearing that it had all been to keep his mind off you, promising that you were now all his, so there was no need to ever look at another girl.

"Yah! Stop. They don't exist to me anymore. Just like no other man exists for you, yeah? Just me."

"Yeah, Gyu. Just you," you sealed the unspoken promise with a kiss.

Keeping your relationship a secret had been entirely out of the question. The moment the two of you arrived to Hybe together that next morning, Mingyu had been unable to keep his hands off you. He didn't care if any artists or staff knew you were his (He wanted them all to know, actually). If he could, he would've even gone as far as letting the entire world know, but he wasn't quite ready to involve the two of you in a massive scandal.

Life had now become the perfect routine. He'd head to work to his dream job with his best friends, only being a few floors under the love of his live's workplace. It had taken him years, but he was finally exactly where he always wanted to be. He couldn't help but be reminded of that fact every time you stopped by his practice room to shower him with the affection he always wanted to give to you.

That young Mingyu watching you in the green room would've fainted at the mere thought of his current life.

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content: short drabble continuation to this fic, idol!mingyu x idol!reader established relationship, afab reader, smut, oral (m receiving), semi-public sex, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 2629 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"Mingyu ..."

"Yeah?"

'Okay, first of all, personal space', you somehow managed to separate yourself from his tight hold.

You were currently sitting up against a mirror in seventeen's practice room. By some act of god, you and Mingyu always managed to somehow pay each other visits during the day. You'd befriended his members over the years, which meant that your presence was not uncommon even before you'd begun dating.

You had entered the room with plans to talk to Mingyu about something that had been bothering you for the past three months you'd been officially dating, except that your plans had been intercepted by the large man himself the moment he spotted you and dragged you to uncomfortably cuddle on the hard floor of the practice room. That's where you currently found yourself; hard floor digging against your ass as mingyu held you against him, keeping a hellish posture as the two of you laid back against one of the many mirrors in the room.

"Is there something you wanna tell me? Maybe about your previous relationships ..."

That piqued his interest. You didn't say it with any type of anger in your voice. You simply wanted some confirmation on some suspicions that had recently arisen. You knew Mingyu had a bit of a past in the dating area (something which he never spoke about due to feeling embarrassed by it), but you didn't realize how far it went until you'd attended MNET last week, only to be received with dirty looks by a few of the female staff members. You hadn't realized that rumors of your relationship had begun to circle around the industry (not having entered the general public yet), meaning that many staff members at venues often visited by kpop idols were aware of the high possibility that the well-known 97-liner besties were now something more.

This should not have come as a negative thing. Contrary to popular belief, idol dating within the industry was never much of an issue. Idols kept it hush, and most staff members remained either unaware or were too professional (or scared of repercussions) to ever really do anything with that information. You, however, had now been on the receiving end of one too many angry faces headed your way. It had even gone as far as staff 'accidentally' spilling your drink or messing up the settings of your in-ear. It wasn't until you had heard from your own company's staff that Mingyu had frequented a few of the girls working at MNET that you realized the reason why a metaphorical target had been put on your head.

You'd wished that Mingyu would've prepared you for this. I mean, you would've warned him ahead of time if he ever were to interact one-on-one with one of your exes (though that was unlikely, as you did not share Mingyu's serial-dating habits even before your relationships), so you would've expected the same from him.

" ... What previous relationships?"

"Gyu! Don't play dumb. MMET staff? Really? Did you think it was a good idea to shit where you eat?"

"Oh, fuck. Did someone say something mean? Baby, I'm sorry, I-"

"You should've warned me before I walked in to work with three of your exes!", by now you had unglued yourself from him, legs still tangled but no longer leaning against each other.

You weren't truly mad. You really only found the situation ridiculous, but you had still wished you hadn't been so caught off guard like that

"I'm sorry! I didn't want you to think I was some time of .. whore. I did date around a lot, but it was never anything serious. I'm sorry, I'll tell you next time, okay, baby? Forgive me?"

He was such an idiot. Immediately pouting at you and pulling you back into his arms, knowing you weren't truly mad.

"Fine. But I swear to God, Kim Mingyu, if this happens again ..."

"Yes, Ma'am."

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