#time has this way of feeling like it never passes and then suddenly im way older and two years has gone by | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

reidmania · 5 months ago

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a moment | s. reid

summary: two times there was a ‘moment’ between you and spencer, and one time he did something about it.

warnings; best friends to lovers, fem reader, pinning, this based off a lorelai and luke edit i saw, idk if its edited or makes any sense tbh!! sorry! longing, kinda self doubt idk, happy ending yay!!

an; this is for lia. And was written in like an hour so i really dont want the hate guys. If it sucks i cannot be held responsible.

You walk into the bullpen, scanning the usual chaos of the bullpen The day’s already running long, and it’s barely even noon.

"Look who finally decided to join us," Spencer says, glancing up from his desk. His eyes are sharp behind his glasses, but there’s a smirk tugging at his lips. He’s half-hidden behind a wall of case files, as always, but somehow manages to throw his snark with precision.

you and spencer had been best friends since you started together, you got along with anyone but gravitated towards Spencer more than anyone else. Him and Penelope were the easiest for you to be around, you loved everyone but you had your favourites.

While Penelope had been bugging you to either kick up the courage to do something about your friendship with Spencer, or move on, you did neither.

"Oh, save it,," you fire back, tossing your bag on your desk. "I’m fashionably late. It’s a thing."

"Yeah, fashionably late in a profession like this. Very chic. Theres other ways to get here you know — from your house-“

“Don’t even” you cut him off.

“Im just saying if you keep missing the same turn off every time maybe it’s a sign you should be going a different way.” He muttered.

“I didn’t miss the turn off.” You argued. You lied.

“You did.”

“No”

He said your name and you huffed.

You roll your eyes, biting back a grin as you sink into your chair. "Can we pretend, just for today, that you’re not right?"

"Well," Spencer says, leaning back in his chair, "I’m only right about ninety-seven percent of the time. So, technically, you’ve got a three percent chance of being right today. Want to take a gamble?"

You throw a crumpled paper at him. "Your math is annoying."

He catches it, eyes twinkling, and throws it back at you. "Annoying?"

“Yes, annoying. It hurts my head”

It’s easy between the two of you—this banter, this back-and-forth. It always has been, ever since the first case you worked together. Over time, it’s become second nature to tease him, push his buttons, and he always gives it right back. The tension slips away with every joke, but today, there’s something different about the way his eyes linger on you a beat too long, like he’s waiting for you to catch on.

You ignore it. You have to.

"So, what do we have?" you ask, holding out your hand for the file in his lap.

He passes it to you, fingers brushing against yours. It’s brief, but the touch sends a spark up your arm. Your eyes meet for a second longer than necessary, and for the first time in a long time, you don’t know what to say.

Spencer clears his throat, looking back down at the file. "This unsub’s a real charmer. I think he's using manipulation tactics to lure his victims. He’s got a pattern, but it’s subtle. Took me a while to piece it together."

"Took you a while? So, like... five minutes?" You grin, but the edge in your voice is gone, replaced by something softer.

He laughs, a sound that always surprises you because it’s rare, but so genuine. "Try thirty. It was a real struggle."

"Wow. I almost feel bad for you."

His smile fades just a little, and when he looks at you again, there’s that shift. Something hovers between you, just under the surface, where the teasing usually stays. His eyes flicker over your face, and suddenly, you wonder if he’s about to say something else, something that would cross the line you’ve never acknowledged before.

Your heart skips, and before you can stop yourself, you lean forward a little. Your breath catches.

"So..." Spencer starts, but before the sentence can land, your phone buzzes on your desk. The sharp sound breaks the moment like a snapped thread. You jerk back, grabbing your phone.

"Hotch needs us in the conference room," you mutter, more to yourself than him, trying to get a grip on the swirling thoughts in your head. "We’ve got a lead."

Spencer blinks, clearly shaken out of whatever that was, and you stand up quickly, focusing hard on the case and not on the fact that you were about two seconds away from… what? Leaning in? Kissing him?

No. That’s not what this is. This is Spencer.

"Race you to the conference room?" he asks suddenly, the playful lilt back in his voice, but there’s still something lingering behind his eyes, a question neither of you seems ready to ask.

"Race? You’re literally taller than me, that’s cheating. I’m wearing heels!!"

"You can run in heels, can’t you?" He shoots you a smirk, the tension easing just enough for you to relax, even if your heart is still racing.

"Could. But i don't want to damage my gorgeous shoes," you huffed, yet already heading for the door.

"Gorgeous shoes?" He repeated, raising his eyebrow.

"Yeah that was actually the name of the shoes when i bought them. They had 'gorgeous shoes' written in big letters across the box." You smiled, tilting your head.

"Really?"

"No."

You make it halfway to the conference room before he catches up, the two of you slipping back into your usual rhythm. But as you walk into the room side by side, the unspoken thing still hangs between you. You don’t talk about it, and maybe you never will, but it’s there.

“Are you still coming over tonight?” He asked, looking down at you, eyes lingering on yours. You nod.

“It’s pizza night. Of course I am.”

And once again, you’re reminded that with Spencer, things have never been as simple as just best friends.

You’re standing in Spencer’s tiny kitchen, flour everywhere. And when you say everywhere, you mean it—on the counters, in your hair, smeared on his cheek where you definitely didn’t mean to slap him with dough earlier.

“This is going really well,” you deadpan, holding up the limp, misshapen pizza dough.

“Um.” He squints as he looks at the mess.

“Well.. you’re the genius who can outsmart anyone but apparently can’t figure out yeast,” you argue, pinning the blame on him. “Is it supposed to look like this?” You muttered, tilting your head.

“I think it’s fighting back. Maybe we’re the victims now.”

You both dissolve into laughter, the kind that makes your stomach hurt. This was supposed to be simple. Homemade pizza sounded like a cute idea, something easy to do on a night off, but it’s turned into chaos. The dough’s not cooperating, the sauce might be too watery, and you’re pretty sure you added way too much garlic. But that’s what makes it fun.

"Okay," Spencer says, hands raised in surrender. "I officially give up. This dough has outsmarted me."

"You’re giving up? Dr Spencer Reid, defeated by pizza dough?" You snatch the rolling pin from him, trying to take over, but the second you press down, the dough tears. "Okay, maybe it’s smarter than both of us."

Spencer steps closer, leaning over your shoulder to inspect the mess you've made. You can feel the warmth of him behind you, and for just a second, everything feels different. The banter pauses. His breath is soft on your neck, his arm brushing against yours as he reaches to touch the dough. Your heart stutters, and you freeze, unsure of what to do next.

But then, with no warning, Spencer flicks flour at you.

"Hey!" you squeal, spinning around to face him, eyes wide. He looks so pleased with himself, a mischievous grin on his face.

"What? You had flour in your hair. I was just trying to help.”

"Sure, you were." You reach for the bag of flour, holding it up threateningly. "I will not hesitate to make this a war, Spencer."

He grins widely, almost daringly.

You grab a handful of flour and toss it at him in retaliation. "You are such a child."

“I’m just helping!” he protests, dodging your attack and grabbing the rolling pin like a shield. His laughter is contagious, and soon you’re both caught up in it, the tension slipping away into something lighter, easier.

You try to swipe more flour at him, but he grabs your wrist, stopping you mid-throw. His fingers wrap around your wrist gently, but the touch sends an unexpected shiver up your arm. You both freeze, the room suddenly too quiet again, his hand lingering on yours for just a second longer than necessary.

His gaze flickers down to where his fingers rest against your skin, and then back up to meet your eyes. There’s a pause, just long enough for the air between you to thicken, something unspoken hanging between you. His thumb brushes your wrist lightly, and you wonder if he feels it too—the tension that’s been simmering all night, just beneath the surface.

You swallow hard, pulling your hand away, but not before you catch the briefest flicker of something in his expression. It’s gone as quickly as it appeared, and just like that, the moment slips away.

His eyes narrow playfully, and for a second, you think he might call your bluff. But instead, he just chuckles and steps back, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Let’s not escalate this. We’re adults, after all."

"Adults who can’t make pizza," you mutter, dumping the ruined dough into the trash. "Guess we’ll have to order in. Again."

Spencer wipes his hands on a towel, still smiling. "I’ll let you pick the place this time. As long as it’s not that one with the weird crust you made us try last month."

"Oh come on, that was a bold choice! You just have no sense of adventure."

"I have a very good sense of adventure," he says, leaning casually against the counter, his eyes sparkling in that way that makes you feel like he knows exactly how to get under your skin. "I just like my pizza to taste like pizza."

You roll your eyes, but you’re grinning, too. "Fine. We’ll get the boring pizza this time."

As you both settle into the living room, waiting for the pizza to arrive, you can't help but feel that lingering tension again. The kind that sneaks up on you when things get quiet, when the laughter dies down, and it’s just the two of you sitting side by side, closer than necessary.

You smile, nudging him with your elbow. "Who knew you were such a terrible cook, though?"

"I think we share equal blame here."

"Maybe," you admit, glancing at him. His eyes catch yours, and for just a moment, the playful air between you shifts. It’s small, like the brush of his hand earlier, like the way he’s looking at you now. Your heart skips again, and you wonder—just for a second—if maybe, possibly, you weren’t imagining it. You ignore it, there was too much that could go wrong if you didn’t.

It’s late in the afternoon when you hear the knock at your door. The sun's still out, casting a soft golden light through your living room windows, but it’s the last thing on your mind.

You’re dressed in something more put together than usual because, of course, Penelope had insisted on setting you up on this date tonight. It wasn’t exactly what you wanted, but she’d been so enthusiastic that you’d caved. You’d said yes to humor her, to get her off your back.

She had insisted that you needed something to get your mind off Spencer. You wondered if that was actually possible.

So when the knock comes, your stomach churns, thinking it might be the guy arriving too early. But when you open the door, it's not your date.

It’s Spencer.

He’s standing there, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, hair slightly disheveled, and there’s a look on his face you can’t quite place. It’s tight, maybe a little frustrated, though he's trying hard to keep his expression neutral.

“Spence?” You lean against the doorframe, arching an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

He doesn’t answer right away, eyes scanning you briefly before he looks down, then back up again. There’s tension in his posture, the kind you recognize when he’s overthinking something. “Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine.”

You don’t buy it for a second. “Uh-huh.”

His face tightens even more, though he tries to hide it with a half-hearted shrug. “Did Penelope set you up with some guy?”

“Yeah?” You squinted trying to figure out how he knew that. You hadn’t mentioned it, you didn’t want to talk about what had caused your sudden date or have to lie to him about why Penelope suddenly set you up when you have shown no intention of being interested in dating.

“Penelope told me. Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, running his hand through his hair as if he was stressed. You didn’t understand, not really. You told Spencer everything so you could understand why he would be annoyed that you didn’t tell him this, but it seemed as if he took it personally.

You squint at him, crossing your arms. “What is your issue? You look like you want to strangle someone.”

He lets out a huff, avoiding your eyes again. “It’s nothing.”

You tilt your head, studying him. There’s something under the surface, and you’re not about to let it go. “Well you’re here so, obviously its not nothing … What’s going on?”

He finally looks up at you, his eyes sharp and filled with something you haven’t seen before. It catches you off guard for a moment. “It’s just—there was a moment.”

You blink, thrown by the sudden shift. “A moment?”

His voice drops, a little rougher now, a little more real. “Last week. When we were making pizza, and the week before that— and during- there was a moment.”

Your heart skips. You know exactly what he’s talking about, but you stay silent, letting him continue.

“I thought there was a moment,” he says, his frustration starting to leak through his words now. “I thought maybe something was… happening.”

Your chest tightens, the air in the room shifting as you meet his eyes. “There was.”

The confession comes out of your mouth before you even realize it, and the tension between you two spikes instantly, filling the space with an electric charge. You can feel it, the way everything has changed with those two words.

Spencer just stares at you, his brow furrowing slightly, like he hadn’t expected you to admit it. He takes a step forward, you step back almost unconsciously, and your heart beats faster in your chest.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your voice low, unsure.

He doesn’t stop moving, closing the gap between you even more, and his voice is soft but firm when he speaks. “Will you just stand still for a minute?”

Before you can say anything, before you can even process what’s happening, his hand comes up to cup the side of your face, and his lips are on yours.

The kiss is soft at first, almost tentative, but it’s full of all the unspoken things that have been building between you for so long. You feel the world tilt, your hands instinctively moving to grip the front of his jacket, pulling him closer. For a second, everything else fades away—your date, the case, everything.

When you finally pull back, breathless, you just stare at each other. His thumb brushes lightly across your cheek, and his eyes search yours, full of something that feels too big to name.

Neither of you says anything for a long moment, the silence thick and heavy with everything that’s just shifted between you.

Then, as if in slow motion, you take a small step forward. It’s your turn now, the tables flipped, and you can see the surprise flicker in his eyes as he instinctively steps back.

“What are you doing?” he asks, echoing your earlier words, his voice low and a little breathless

You give him a small smile, feeling the tension twist tighter in your chest. “Will you just stand still for a minute?” You mirrored his words

His eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t move, and before he can say another word, you close the space between you and kiss him again.

This time, it’s different. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing. The kiss is deeper, more insistent, and you feel his hands tighten around your waist, pulling you closer. It’s like everything you’ve both been holding back is finally breaking free, all the tension and the unspoken feelings rushing to the surface.

When you finally break apart, you’re both breathing heavily, faces inches from each other. Your hands are still gripping the front of his jacket, his fingers still digging into your sides like he’s afraid to let go.

You don’t move, neither of you do. You just stay there, staring at each other, and for the first time in a long time, you’re not thinking about the job, or the cases, or anything else. It’s just him.

He’s the first to break the silence, his voice quiet and almost disbelieving, He exhales, a long, relieved breath, his hand still resting on your waist. “I thought maybe I was imagining it.”

You shake your head, feeling a strange warmth bloom in your chest. “No. You weren’t imagining it.”

Another beat of silence passes, and then his lips quirk up into that small, crooked smile you’ve always liked so much. “Well, I guess we have Penelope to thank for this.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling back. “Yeah, and she doesn’t even know it.”

His thumb brushes your side, a subtle touch, but enough to send a shiver up your spine. “Are you… still going on that date?”

The question hangs in the air between you, and for a moment, you almost laugh. The idea of leaving now, of going out with some guy Penelope set you up with, feels absurd.

“No,” you say, your voice steady and certain. “I’m not.”

His smile widens, just a little. “Good.”

You grin up at him, feeling lighter than you have in weeks. “Yeah? Why’s that good?”

Spencer’s gaze softens, and for the first time, you see the real reason for his frustration, for all of this. He steps even closer, so close that you can feel his breath on your lips, his voice low and sincere.

“Because, there was a moment.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, and you meet his eyes, that familiar warmth spreading through you again. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, his lips ghosting yours, and the last bit of tension that’s been sitting between you melts away completely. He smiles, and before either of you can say anything else, he closes the gap and kisses you again.

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norikuna · 3 months ago

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GREEDY — gojo satoru minors dni

prologue. → pretty, prodigal, and teasing. how far can you push your former teacher before he snaps? gojo's about this 🤏 close from releasing a hollow purple on the world.

pairing. gojo satoru x afab!reader

warnings+. màstúrbation (m.) and rough sèx, creaḿpie. some angst/doubt. angsty love confession before gojo póunds reader into the mattress. incorrect use of reversed curse technique. arguments and stuff. description of injuries. def mean!gojo a bit and he's got vampire tendencies.

reader is of legal age (implied to be 19-20) and gojo is 28 so age gap!romance. obsessed!gojo and popular girl!reader trope. gojo is absolutely a mess in this, and reader is described as wearing short skirts, and wearing makeup.

rather questionable ethics and dynamics (teacher/former student) but rest assured its clear that his feelings are pretty recent. reader has him twirled and whipped around her fingers. reader is also def a baddie and ambiguously bi.

word count. 8.7k words im mad actually. this was meant to be headcanons song inspiration. greedy — tate mcrae

a/n. this is was gonna be from reader's pov but i thought it would be more fun from gojo's 🙂‍↔️

mp3. i see you eyeing me down, but you'll never know much past my name. or how i'm running this room, but i'm still half your age. yeah, you're looking at me like i'm some sweet escape 😛

gojo satoru was not a weak man, no. he knew that he was an anomaly of nature, an unstoppable power that could reduce enemies to dust and make entire clans crumble with nothing more than a flick of his wrists.

so how was it, that when it came to you, his resolve was paper-thin?

every time your open gaze met his, every time you brushed past him, every time your presence filled the space around his infinity, gojo felt something inside him unravel. his breath would be caught in his chest, leaving his pulse to quicken and suddenly, all that strength and control would slip through his fingers.

gojo cursed himself for this, you see. he had never been one to lose control, but he was not quite sure when his entire body has started to betray him.

but no, fuck that, and he did his utter best to run his focus back onto the lesson at hand. unfortunately, the lesson at hand was with you. standing in front of him, arms slightly raised, palms out, and raising your brow as boredom passed over your face.

gojo cleared his throat, "your stance is good, but your cursed energy is all over the place. focus, breathe. centre yourself is what i'm saying," he instructed, but the words felt hollow as they passed through his lips.

unfairly, you're weren't the problem. he was. and now this was getting ridiculous. you had graduated not two, three years past? it would have been a disservice to still call you his student, but even as a mentee, you were still under his tutelage. and as recent as this immature infatuation was, this felt wrong.

but now you were frowning, starting to waver and the sharp, staccato tap of your heeled boot punctuated the wooden floor, click, click!

gojo looked to the sky, briefly, if to pray for patience and a calm of some sorts. he stepped forwards towards you, placing a hand on your waist to guide you into a better stance, and trying to ignore the way your skin felt warm underneath his fingers.

focus.

"don't let your body twist like that when you utilise your own cursed energy. keep it straight, balanced," he muttered, adjusting your posture slightly, hand on your spine — the heel of his palm pressing into a dent. a deity from the sky must have struck him with a cursed arrow, for his whole body was on fire.

because there you were, standing right in front of him, so close that gojo could feel the soft heat of your breath, the faint scent of a sweet perfume wafting off your skin, vanilla?

"you're not focused," gojo grimaced, though he wasn't sure if the rebuke was at himself, or at you — whose eyes widened briefly, and gojo tried not to recognise the curiosity and challenge that flashed across your face.

look at how she's staring at me. and gojo felt utterly ridiculous, and exposed, she knows. but instead of pulling away, you shifted ever so slightly towards him, your body arching as the barest brush of your breasts against his forearm had heat pulling through his body.

would you taste as sweet as you smelt? would you lean more into him if he asked?

he cleared his throat, "okay. relax, not every stance or position works for an individual. perhaps, you'll be able to focus better like this," and with his hand still on your waist, he pulled you into a swift spin. one that left your back pressed against the hard planes of the chest, and you facing the other wall.

you hummed, this time not in the way he wanted. your lips were lightly parted, and there was that soft sheen of gloss catching the light, making your lips look impossibly soft. gojo caught himself staring, wandering what it would be like to press his own mouth to yours, and whether you would squeal or moan.

still, if there was anything that gojo was good at, it was deflecting like a champ, "i think you're distracted," he laughed, low and amused, "is something making you lose focus?"

you tilted your head, and gojo didn't miss (nor did his heart or groin) that your gaze flickered to his mouth for the briefest second before meeting his eyes again, feigning innocence, "don't tell me you're underestimating me, sensei. because i'd hate to think you can't keep up?"

gojo bit back a grin at the obvious bait, "careful," brushing strands of white hair that had fallen into his face away, "if you get too cocky, you tend to miss danger. you start to ignore things that should be noticed."

your voice dropped to a droll whisper, eyes glinting, "you think i don't notice things? i'm aware of plenty."

gojo forced himself to focus, to ignore the way that your lashes flutter with unshakable composure. trying to regain control, or some semblance of mind, he started counting each individual lash painted dark with mascara, lingering on the outermost curls that framed your sharp eyes.

after a beat, he forced himself to break eye contact, "alright," he said, stepping back with a casual shrug that he hoped conveyed just how nonchalant he was, "we’ll call it a day here and continue training tomorrow."

"backing out already?" you teased, leaning in just a little, making him tense at the closeness.

gojo chuckled, feigning nonchalance. "for your sake. you may be powerful, but you have to pace yourself."

you shrugged, nodding, "i'm going out anyway this evening," you said, hopping back a step before bending down to gather your things. gojo politely averted his gaze, his heart hammering from your previous proximity, and desperately hoping to avoid a...reaction, that would be quite inconvenient, as wide and loose as his martial pants were. like a fuckin' school boy with a crush. gross.

but as you slung your pastel bag over your shoulder and straightened up, he couldn't help a quick glance, catching the small, coy glimmer in your eyes as you turned to leave.

gojo sighed, pulling up his blindfold once more, "have fun," he half-heartedly offered, but you were already out the door.

the corridors were now empty, the clang of metal and chatter now silent, replaced with a quiet hum of the air conditioning. gojo wiped his face with the towel wrapped around his neck, the damp fabric clinging to his skin and the muscles in his arms and chest still warm from the intensity of training. his arms and chest glistened, the muscles warm and taut as he stretched, rolling his shoulders back with a low groan. exhaustion settled into him like a weight, each movement of his tired, bare torso slow and deliberate.

"oh, you're still here, sensei?"

gojo's eyes snapped open, drawn to the sound of your inquisitive voice. you stood in the doorway, framed by the dim light from the hallway, and he immediately felt a rush of heat flood his chest.

well, fuck, now his mouth was dry. clearly, your previous iteration of 'going out' was a bit more glamorous than you had led on, and he was certain his wandering eyes betrayed him as it flickered over your figure. it took a titan's strength to keep his eyes from trailing down your long legs, the way your dress hugged the swell of your chest, or over your glistening neck. there was a faint shimmer, a glitter of some sort? it coated your skin, and gojo wanted to lick it off with his tongue.

what? no. who said that?

he swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep his composure.

you scowled at his reaction, clearly mistaking his silence for distaste. "what? i did say i was going somewhere," you retorted, your tone sharp but amused. "i’m more than allowed to leave the campus grounds.”

"of course,” he replied, voice outstandingly steady but his mind still trailing after every curve, every detail that made you look...well...dangerous in the best way, "don't let me stop you. who's the lucky guy?"

you arched a brow, folding your arms over your chest, and now, gojo really did have to look away and pretend that he was busy with retying a dark piece of cloth over his eyes, "who said it was a guy?"

gojo thickly swallowed, wondering if he'd just made a colossal blunder with no return, "that's not what i meant." the words 'my bad' stuck in his throat as you laughed and sighed.

"joking, sorry. it's a guy, this time." now you were fiddling with your long nails, with a satisfying clack as they ran across each other.

"i hope he shows you a great time then," he offered, half-hearted, blasé.

you took a step into the room, and gojo didn't even need six eyes to know that your eyes were raking over his chest, "i'm sure he will," all sweetness and sugar, "i've been training so hard, i deserve it, don't i?"

the words hit him harder than he expected, and he had to remind himself — she's not yours, satoru. but that didn't stop the gruff irritation bubbling up.

"a real man should be taking you out on a date like this,” he said, his voice a bit too rough for his liking. "not some guy who’s probably just looking for a good time."

you scoffed lightly, rolling your eyes. "are you saying that there's someone else out there who can do a better job?" your tone was playful, but there was a challenge in it — an edge that made his heart skip once more, "sadly, there just aren't many who've handled me well."

he ignored your immature, faux pout, and ran a hand through damp, icy hair — ignoring how his temper flared, rearing its ugly head.

was this all on purpose? to toy with him?

"you want to be handled, sweetheart?" gojo's voice dropped a little lower, indulging your teasing, "i've seen you lose focus easily, you could easily break."

your lips creased up, painted a tempting shade of dried-blood red (what the fuck was wrong with him? was he now just a horny vampire?) as you purred, "i'd need some help testing out that theory." your expression was open just enough for him to see the tiniest flicker of something in your eyes — something that told him you were enjoying this far more than you should.

an invitation of sorts, he wondered. did you want him to move? to make a move? it wasn’t a secret that you had always been a popular student practically a legend, rumours swirling around you like wildfire — whispers of broken hearts and sweetened smiles that could captivate anyone in your path. he had never paid attention of course, gossip always ran wild among students and he discouraged such whispers of who-did-what, for a grade 1 curse would never indulge such behaviour before they would get torn to shreds.

and even now, long after graduation as you worked around your old alma mater, men and women — everyone swooned at the chance to speak with you, and yet, here you were, playing this dangerous game with him.

gojo scowled, trying to push past the desire building inside him, the urge to have you underneath him, right on this mat in the training room. "well, don’t hang around too long," he said, his tone sharp as a blade. "i’m sure your date is waiting. go have a good time."

invitation declined. the morally right thing to do. right?

he didn’t need to look to see the small sneer that curled at the corner of your lips, or the way it turned into a fleeting expression of annoyance. he could hear the click of your heels echo down the hallway as you sashayed out.

what the everlasting fuck was wrong with him?

lo and behold, the great gojo satoru often found himself alone in his own private rooms. for 'the strongest' rarely had time to accommodate some other forms of company.

and frankly, he had no desire to do so now regardless. not when the echoes of your clicking heels still reverberated in his mind. the silence that echoed around him was heavy, suffocating and he was sure he looked erratic.

gojo ran a hand over his face, trying to shake the thought of you. but it was useless. his body was still on fire, the heat of jealousy smouldering in his chest, coiling in his gut like something alive, something dangerous. he had walked to the nearest chair and collapsed into it, his legs splayed wide apart as his shoulders slumped under the soft, amber glow of the setting sun that streamed through the windows. the sorcerer let his head fall back against the chair, eyes closed.

how absolutely ridiculous, he thought, running his fingers through his tousled hair. no, he just couldn't stop it. couldn't stop thinking about how badly he wanted you. wanted you to want him too. and now, with the way you’d left, with that knowing smile on your lips, all he could imagine was the man you were with now, the man who’d be holding the door open for you, who’d be pulling out your chair, whoever the hell he was.

maybe even a casual, non-sorcerer. some random guy that you had indulged because he was no threat. but he wouldn't be able to touch you, not in the way that you demanded. the man would laugh at your jokes, brush his hand against yours, but wouldn't be able to let a real smile bubble from your lips like satoru could.

and what would that man do next?

would he try to take you back to his place? some small poorly-lit apartment where he'd try to kiss you, to claim your lips without even pulling away for air. would you kiss him back, curling into his frame?

before gojo's even registered what he's doing, his own hand has found his hard cock. despite the tattle of assistance, and dreamy-eyed mongers, pleasure is rare for him. relief, even less so. his schedule just doesn't allow it, and so he oft find himself chasing some distant contentment like this, alone in his rooms.

but he squeezes at the wide hilt, at his base, pulling his hands up, upwards as his brows furrow under blindfold, and he tugs the offending fabric off, away from him, as laden balls smack against his wrist.

maybe the man would then trail his lips down your neck, maybe he'd try to slowly sink his teeth into delicate flesh, leaving blooming purple marks that wouldn't fade, not when gojo saw you tomorrow.

he's running his curled hand up towards the fat mushroom tip, almost glowing pink with heat and pre-cum that's leaving his hand slicked with faint moisture, "shit, that's it."

then what? he can imagine your teasing smile as you decide to take your pleasure as you see fit. how you'd suddenly push this faceless man off, and move so you're straddling him, letting his hands wander around the curve of your hips, digging into plush flesh.

now he's starting to pant, open-mouthed, "ah - fuck! wish i had you here, right here." gojo must be a madman, breathing out to the empty, open air.

but in his mind's eye, you're reaching behind your back to undo the zipper on your outstandingly tight dress, giving the faceless man a coy smile as you push the fabric of your dress down, letting your plentiful tits spill out and against the man's chest.

his wrist is moving faster now, and there's a cramp starting to build up as he pistons his hand over his stretched shaft, and one arm is thrown over his face — the soft hairs on his thick forearm tickling his face as he tries not to gasp or whine too loudly, but he's bucking his ups now, pretending that it's not his hand that he's spilling into, but your tight cunt. and later, he shudders and tenses up, with apologies whispered into the air, "look, look - shit, i'm sorry - i'm sorry. couldn't help it, fuck." and gojo's bitten his lips so hard that he's certain he's drawn blood, vibrant red blooming on pale, creamy skin.

and a lamp had exploded as he came. damn, he'd have to replace that.

you don't deserve someone like him, no. not when he's sitting here, absolutely filthy with thick, white seed entirely over his tense abdominal muscles and stiff hand. not when he's trying to catch his breath after imagining how snug your pussy would feel around him, and how you'd beg for him to give it to you harder.

you didn't deserve someone so messed up with guilt, with mistakes, with the kind of weight that made him too much for anyone, let alone someone like you. didn't you deserve better than a tortured man who couldn't control himself, better than an overzealous mentor who was supposed to keep his distance, to do what was right.

but that didn’t stop his thoughts from swirling, as he separated damp, thick thighs from the smooth surface of the chair, reaching for a tissue. he couldn’t help it. and it made him feel like a damn fool.

the meeting room buzzed with tension, voices rising in sharp, clipped exchanges — some angry, some demanding and others clueless and questioning. gojo had woken up in a foul mood that morning, with some ill-gotten storm brewing beneath his chest. perhaps it was the thoughts of you that lingered from the night before, a gnawing jealously that left him feeling too tight in the stiffness of the uniform dress pants.

but he had forced himself to be dragged through this meeting, plastering a snarky light-hearted grin over his face as he leaned against the wall, letting the higher-ups argue themselves into oblivion.

amidst the storm of words, gojo's focus was nowhere near the mission being discussed. no, his attention was fixated entirely on you. you stood at the far end of the table, eyes flashing with ire as you tore into some pompous old fool who’d dared question your power. the others in the room shifted uncomfortably, deferring to you, as they often did, despite your youth. you had that rare combination of presence and bite that made people recoil back when you sunk your teeth into them, and this was not a knot gojo was interested in unraveling.

kojiro, one of the bumbling administrators, had turned his babbling attention to gojo, "you're still planning to face that curse head-on, gojo-san?" the poor man is wringing his hands at gojo's flat look (made all the more unreadable through a blindfold, satoru would wager), "don't you think it would be well - unwise? instead of expending your time and energy on one cursed spirit, you could handle five lesser ones. efficiency, you see."

gojo's gaze briefly flickers back to you, standing with your arms crossed as one hand fiddles with the end of your braid as your petal-pink lips scowl at some other official with words that don't fit his stature. your other hands keeps reaching around your neck, adjusting a plaid scarf over and over, like you're desparate to hide something under the fabric . well, fuck that.

"i'm aware of the risks," gojo turns his attention back to the matter, "but no one here has time for hesitation. if the curse is special grade, don't you at least think that delaying with lead to more destruction?"

"is it really the cursed spirit you’re worried about, takumi-san?" you asked, your voice low, the kind of voice that could make someone forget their own name.

gojo's gaze snapped to you from under the blindfold, but you weren’t looking at him, not even speaking at him. instead, you were locking eyes with one of the other sorcerers — takumi, a grade two with a shaggy mop of golden hair, one who had been a student alongside you and hardly subtle in his admiration for you.

gojo tries to hide a scoff at how takumi's eyes are wandering over you, ignoring the newpapers that have been flattened on the meeting table, with bold inked letters reading doom-portents such as 'unexplained explosion, 4 dead and 12 injured."

time and place, man.

"you don't think i can handle this mission. if you're worried about me, just say so," takumi's now leaning into you, even as gojo tries to train his ear on kojiro's economic-obsessed babble instead.

gojo can see your eyes flicker to the dastardly newspapers as well, clearly curling your lips at the dour news and takami's disastrous attempt at getting his hands under your skirt. but he also knows that sharp glint in your eyes, the one when you toy with those around you, to pull them in without ever committing to anything. clearly, you've decided to indulge this game.

"takumi," and you draw out the younger man's name, "shouldn't you bring more strength to the table? of course, i'm worried about a friend getting hurt. but even if you were stronger, or the strongest, a special grade curse could do some real damage."

and your eyes have flicked right towards gojo, raking over his frame leaning against the pale cream walls. he's glad for the blindfold, so you can't see how he scowls and furrows his thin brows at you, at your blatant hopes for a reaction from him. were you so unobservant that you did not know how much you bothered him?

the pointed sharpness in your words made takumi pause, and for just a moment, gojo could see the man’s grin falter. it was clear that you weren’t impressed by his attention, you had no need for his slimy attempts.

there was no mistake about it — this wasn’t just a flirtation. this was a game you played, and gojo was not only aware of it; he was caught in it. he tries not to feel irrationally angry, fuck, so much of his life revolves around his work, his job and now he can't even do that properly without feeling like you're using your long nails to dangle something in front of him, wanting to snap his teeth out and snatch it.

so you wanted him to see this. you wanted to claim that you could unravel the strongest sorcerer from the heavens to the earth below, to make him lose his composure. gojo feels as if there is crackling ozone in the air, and wonders dimly if the weather forecast predicted a rain storm for later today.

takumi, sensing the shift, finally backed off with a huff, but not before giving all around him a lingering look, as if it was their fault that you weren't interested.

"enough distractions," kojiro's interjected, raking a finger through a beard streaked with gray, and he's shooting a pointed look at you, snapping rose-pink gum, and takumi, shuffling with his hands in his pockets. "we're here to discuss the mission, not flirt." and then, he's off mumbling something about how this was why he hated having younger sorcerers join the meeting rooms.

his ire only grew. gojo stood with his back against the wall, outside the meeting room, once everyone had left with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. you stood in front of him, your eyes flashing with anger, your chest rising and falling with each sharp breath.

"absolutely not," gojo stood his ground firmly, "no-one will let you go on this mission."

you stomped on the floor, once as your heels snapped an echo, "they will if you say so."

gojo stuffs his hands in his pockets, "who said that i would also allow you?"

you scoffed, folding your arms across your chest, mimicking his previous stance but with a clear defiance in your posture. "and why the hell not? i'm more than capable of handling it. it's my fucking choice, and how can extra help hurt?"

"enough!" gojo snapped, feeling a tense pain in between his eyes, "it's too dangerous. and you're too young -"

"too young!" you've interrupted him, "i'm not some helpless child, sensei. i'm a grade 1 sorcerer! one of the best, i don't need to be treated like i can't handle a mission."

"grade 1. not special-grade."

his eyes narrowed, his jaw tight. gojo could see the fury in your eyes, but there was something else there, something deeper, a vulnerability that he had seen before in students, some desire to prove themselves and be heaped with praise. he knew you were good, better than most — hell, better than many of the adults he’d seen. but this cursed spirit was unlike anything you’d faced before. and yet, here you were, challenging him, pushing him, daring him to stop you.

"you don’t get it," he muttered, the words slipping from his mouth before he could stop them. "you think you’re invincible, but you’re not. you're too reckless."

"reckless!" now you had taken a step towards him, narrowing the space between you both. your eyes were fierce now, but there was something else in them — a spark of hurt that made his chest tighten, and gojo began to wander where this would start spiral. "i’m not reckless. i know exactly what i’m doing. the only reckless thing here is you thinking you have the right to control my every move."

"i'm the one in charge here," he said, his voice hoarse, the words coming out sharper than he intended. "and i'm telling you now, you’re not going. you’re not ready for this. don't involve the higher-ups in this."

you were so close now, just inches apart. his eyes flicked to your lips, with the arch of a blooming flower kissed by the sun, for a brief moment, and then back up to your face, where anger and frustration mixed with something else — a challenge.

"maybe that’s the problem," you said, your voice quieter now, but still holding an edge. "you think i'm still some child who needs you to tell me what to do. maybe you just don’t want me to outshine you."

the words are ridiculous, and he can see by the mild quiver as your throat bobs that you don't mean what you say. it takes a rare type of courage to tell the first person in four hundred years to be born with limitless and six eyes, that he could be outshined. but satoru doesn't say a word to rebuke your obvious and false bait.

your body is so close now that gojo could feel the heat of your skin, your breath brushing against his. he could smell the faint sweetness of vanilla again in the air mingled with fresh, crisp apples, could see the subtle shine of your lip gloss catching the light. it was a testament to his spirit, he thinks, that he did not lean in straight away and touch his mouth to yours in this scenario that certainly did not warrant it.

"you want me to stop you that badly?" he hissed, his voice a mix of frustration and something darker, that had not yet snapped. "is that what this is? a game? a way for you to get my attention? to see how far you can push me before i do snap?"

now he's got your tongue, and your expression has flickered for a brief moment before schooling into an impassive mask, and gojo briefly wanders if he's crossed an awful line and misinterpreted everything. if they're gonna stick a white dunce hat on his head and parade him through the streets of outer tokyo for being an assuming fool.

but then you've stepped even closer, your breath coming faster, the weight of your chest almost pressed against his, and gojo doesn't move and he's briefly aware that he's let his infinity down.

"partly, you know it's not just about you though. i do want to go on this mission, but -" you tilt your head and look right up at him, and the older man's head starts to reel from the fact that he was right all along, "i do want to see how far you can go before you snap."

his heart pounded, and for a moment, everything went still. all the tension, all the heat, the anger, and the desire — everything seemed to converge in the space between you. gojo's hand twitched, aching to touch you, but he held himself back, his muscles straining with the effort.

"stop,” he rasped, barely able to get the word out. "you don’t know what you’re doing, or what you're asking for."

he's never felt quite like this before, breathless as if the air has been punched out of his lungs. all gojo could think was how much he wanted to pull you closer, to kiss you until there was nothing left between you.

but he couldn’t.

he puts his hands on your shoulders, fingers digging into the expensive fabric of your top, and gently pushes you away.

"my decision is final. don't make this harder than this, you're forbidden from the mission."

how sick and twisted, that you've fled with embarrassed tears pricking at your eyes, and he's stuck with a raging erection.

well, he had seen worse. but it didn't make this curse any less vicious. it was ancient, he could presume, and maddening. its cursed energy was warping the night air like a violent storm. but again, not the worst thing that he had encountered in his twenty-eight years, and with the right timing, he'd been able to calculate every strike and counter.

but then he saw you.

at first, he thought it was a blur — a trick of the light. but then, there you were, standing at the edge of the pavement, your figure framed by the chaotic crackle of cursed energy. fuck your stubborn nature.

this is not what is meant to happen. gojo's heart has skipped a beat, and he's not sure what he's more furious with. you, for defying his concern for your safety. or himself, for getting so distracted in. a battle.

"what the fuck is wrong with you?"

yes, he knows you're good. good enough to move with precision against a special-grade curse, your stance instantly and suspiciously better than the other day in the training rooms. it's only through his six eyes that gojo has been able to keep a track of your movements as your jujutsu is able to dodge the creature's brutal force.

impressive. but reckless.

and that never lasts.

you had moved to cast your own cursed technique, but the curse was intelligent enough to anticipate it. with a sudden lash of its tail, the creature swung its power straight at you, knocking you off balance. you stumbled, your footing lost, and before you could react, a flash of dark energy slicing across your shoulder.

a scream had torn from your lips as you fell to the ground, blood spurting from the deep cut.

and briefly, just for a flicker of time, gojo sees a dark-haired man in violet robes leaning against a brick wall, with his shoulder torn off, 'at least curse me one last time.'

blood rushing in his ears, before he even realised it, he was on top of you, his body hovering over yours, his jujutsu flaring as he shoved the cursed spirit back with a brutal force that made the earth tremble, an exorcism that will not take long. he kneeled beside you, his breath ragged, eyes locked on the wound on your shoulder. the blood was already soaking your clothes, darkening the fabric as you winced, your breath shallow and unsteady.

"you —” gojo isn't sure if his hand isn't shaking from how irate he is, "what the hell were you thinking? fuck, don't move."

your eyes were unfocused for a moment, but when they snapped to him, there was defiance there — even in this moment (get a grip!), as you gritted your teeth against the pain.

"save it, it's fine," you spat, your voice weak but vexed, "that bitch is still there."

"what did i tell you! what did i say would happen?" he cursed under his breath, focusing his reversed cursed technique as he tried to heal you, but the moment felt like an eternity as bright red blood moved too fast for him to seize it.

an assassin's blade in his throat, his arteries giving way and bubbling out and up.

now you don't answer, your eyes fluttering closed for a brief second. gojo's gaze darted to the cursed spirit, which was now advancing again, enraged by the interruption.

it won’t touch you again.

he stood, pulling you away from him, your body slumping slightly out of his arms. he could feel the heat of your blood soaking through his sleeve, but he had no time to dwell on it. the curse roared in fury, and gojo's infinity flared up around him again, a shield of pure energy blocking its path.

"stay down,” he growled, and all he received was a weak, "fuck, you think that's funny?"

it's only later when he's pulling you back up, that he realises that his reversed cursed energy has done enough to stem the bleeding, but not enough to leave you unharmed as your breath is shallow, your face taking on a more sickly pallor.

"don’t you ever — ever —do that again," he snarled, his voice raw and he wonders when something (or someone) has ever undone him so much. but the anger in his voice doesn't carry to his touch as he gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek, tracing the lines of your jaw.

the sterile walls of your room did nothing to soften the tension in gojo's chest as he stood by your bed, his eyes tracing the curve of your sullen form beneath the sheets. your shoulder was bandaged, with red seeping slowly through the white strips.

"you really are unbelievable," he snapped, his voice sharp as he paced around the room, every step heavy with frustration. "i told you it was too dangerous. i told you not to fucking go."

you lay there, your eyes half-closed, as though you weren’t even listening, but the twitching frown on your lips is sign enough that you're not as sorry. his fingers flexed at his sides, itching to do something — anything — to release the tension building in him.

"are you even listening to me?" he know he sounds bitter, over-reactionary, angry as he moved towards the edge of your bed.

you blinked slowly, your gaze still infuriatingly calm, "i'm fine, now. save the lecture."

he doesn't want to start sputtering so he settles for crossing his arms over his chest, but your voice breaks the silence again.

"you know i want to be a special grade sorcerer, right?"

gojo only looks down, not wanting to indulge an excuse and he studies the tight grip of his knuckles on his slender fingers, "well, i don't know why. the pay isn't that good." it's a weak attempt at a joke, but you're smiling.

"i was told i could only become one if i was the one to exorcise that special grade."

"by who? the higher-ups?" and you nod, wincing as you do.

what a fucking surprise. the way that the jujutsu world works is no surprise to gojo by now, having been surrounded by it his entire life. but the harshness of their reality still shocks him, old and doddering officials who cling to their silk robes are prone to sending out younger sorcerers (those who are still green, barely out of school) to do their dirty work for them, and the cemetery outside of jujutsu tech is ever growing.

he ground his teeth together, his chest tightening as he stared down at you. the bandages, the damp skin, the stillness of your body — it made him want to tear something apart. "fine! if they were giving you a hard time, why didn't you just come to me then?" he repeated harshly.

"would you go ask someone to help you, for something like this? if you were asked to prove yourself?"

gojo runs his tongue behind his teeth, "i'm the strongest, princess. i don't need to ask for help."

you groan, turning your head away from him, but a faint smile dances upon your lips.

he inhales sharply, his fingers digging into the edge of the bed. "you think this is a joke?"

"all four limbs are attached and i'm living and breathing. okay, so fine. my bad. i won't do it again. will you stop snapping at me now, at everything -" and gojo wonders if there's really some hurt colouring your voice, "what's going on?"

the words slip out, rough and unrestrained. "what’s going on is that you’re driving me insane. you act like this doesn’t matter, like i can just stand by and let you throw yourself into danger like it’s nothing — like you don’t matter — but you do. you do matter."

his chest was heaving now, his hands shaking as he reached out and grabbed your wrist. his thumb brushed over your pulse, the tiny fluttering beneath your skin driving him wild. "i can’t — i can’t just stand there and watch you get hurt," he continued, his voice hoarse. "you don’t get to do whatever you want without consequences, damn it. you don’t get to make me feel this way, and then pretend like it doesn’t matter."

for a moment, there was silence. gojo's pulse was hammering in his ears, his body coiled with the intensity of everything he was trying to say. everything he was trying not to say. everything he wanted to act upon.

and then, with a slow, almost lazy smile, you turned towards him, "i didn't know the great gojo satoru was like this. who would have thought?"

his breath hitched in his throat. gojo wanted to say something, to snap at you again, to maintain that distance — but the truth was that the distance between the two of you had disappeared these past few weeks. his chest tightened, his hands trembling as they slid to your face, fingers tracing the line of your jaw, and he relished how your facade almost cracked and you lightly shivered.

at least, he hoped you were shivering because of his touch. and not, like, a fever building up from your injuries.

fuck it.

and then, before he could stop himself, gojo was leaning down, his lips crashing into yours with all the force he could muster, desparate and hungry and that frustration and fear that he had been holding onto. his hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you towards him with a force that made your breath catch, as you responded with a soft gasp.

had he misstepped? no, for you kissed him back, tentatively at first, as if you were testing the waters, but then building up to a sudden urgency that mirrored his own. your hands slid to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you pushed yourself closer to him, before crying out.

"ah! fuck, my shoulder."

small beads of blood surfaced where your collarbone met your shoulder, each one glistening like tiny rubies against your warm skin. they gathered slowly, delicate droplets that clung to you before tracing faint, uneven lines downward. the red stood out, vivid and fresh, dotting your skin in a stark, almost mesmorising gojo as they welled up and began to trick in thin, crimson trails.

"stay still," gojo rasped, his voice low and rough as he leaned in, pressing closer. his mouth met the fresh blood pooling on your skin, tongue tracing over the small rivulets that had seeped from beneath the bandage.

he lingered, almost savouring the taste, his eyes darkening as the sharp tang of iron lingered on his tongue, smacking his lips slightly as he drew back, gaze fixed intently on you, on your heavy breathing as he stole away another kiss from you.

gojo's lips left yours briefly, his breath ragged as he stared down at you, his eyes wild underneath the blindfold, gasping as your nails reached up to hook the fabric down so his hair loosened, falling around his face.

you were staring back at him, breathless and wide-eyed, and in that moment, gojo knew — he couldn’t stay away from you. no matter how much he tried.

your lips were soft, so soft, but there was fire behind the way you kissed him back, your hands landing on his chest, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt. he groaned, deep in his throat, and his fingers threaded into your hair, pulling you closer.

his mouth moved urgently over yours as he shifted to stand beside the bed, his body hovering over you, every muscle tense, straining with the desire that he had tried so hard to ignore. gojo just couldn't think about anything else.

and your lips broke apart only briefly, and you let out a soft laugh, that damn, dangerous laugh of yours. "you're greedy, you know that."

his chest heaved, and his heart pounded in his ears, and blood was now pounding to his nether regions. he wasn’t sure if it was the previous anger or the ache between his ribs, but he couldn’t stop himself as he threaded his fingers through your soft hair, "i am greedy. greedy for you. only you - mmph! shit!"

you had run your long, painted nails (with the little painted charms on the end) down his neck before pressing them, hard enough to cause a sharp sting.

"you wanted to put me through hell," he whispered harshly, and his lips brushed against your ear as he spoke, "until i realised i liked it. until i realised i wanted you, all of you."

his hands moved down to your waist, squeezing gently as his lips found the tender spot beneath your ear, trailing kisses there, letting his teeth sink in, to see small bruises appear. gojo's breath was ragged as he fought to keep control, and something deeper inside of him roared with the need to claim you completely.

"you’re mine," he growled against your skin, the words hot and possessive. "i don't care what happens. you’re mine now."

you tilted your head, still smiling, but this time there was something different in your eyes — something that burned with the same intensity. "if i'm yours, what are you going to do about it? hmm, satoru?"

and that final thread, that last remnant of honour that he had been nurturing and holding onto, snapped.

"is this what you want, princess?" he draws out the nickname, letting it roll off his tongue, as you suddenly inhale sharply. his hands are all over you now, large hands exploring and kneading at your torso, and before he can even let you blink, they're under your top.

he's pressing his hot mouth to your sternum, wet and open-mouthed, and he wonders what sort of effect you have on him. what force in the world leave him panting like this, desparate as his hands find their way behind your back, to unclip whatever's holding your tits in place — just so he can reach back and run his palms over your hard nipples, flicking them and rolling them in between his fingers.

and faintly, in the back of his mind, he's aware that his reversed cursed technique must be working overtime, because suddenly you're rolling forward into him with no care in the world for your previously injured shoulder, as your own hands trail down the front of body, right over his bulge.

but he slaps your hand away, pressing you flat against the mattress, "fuck, not yet. you think i'm just going to let you get away with all this," and as you mewl a soft yes, followed by a please, he rolls his eyes, "wait. behave and i'll give you what you want."

and then, softer, "need to make sure you're ready first."

his arms are caging both sides of your head, and he's got one hand on the headboard (although, you will marvel at the burnt imprint that he's left, later) and the other is tearing your top off, just so he can lean down and let his canines press into the soft fat of your chest, so he can slip a pointed nipple into his mouth and tug it, ever so gently.

but gojo needs to continue lower, and his hand squeezes at the waistband of your short skirt, snapping the elastic twice as you heave your bare chest, "please, please, satoru!"

it's heaven down here for him, and gojo's dizzy at how outstandingly wet you are, with just a single swipe of his fingers in the soft, damp fabric of your underwear.

your clear, sticky arousal clung to his fingers, stretching in thin, glistening threads as he spread your thighs apart, knocking your knees to either side so he could slot himself in between them. your slick shimmered slightly under the light, translucent and tacky and he just couldn't help himself, bringing them up to his mouth to slowly taste.

"shit, princess. you taste so good, can't believe this is what i've been missing out on."

he's playing an instrument, he thinks. gliding his fingers along sodden folds, twirling his index finger past a thick wad of skin and pressing right over your clit in hot, tight circles that have you bucking your hips, "hnngh, right - ah, right there 'toru!"

'toru.

as a reward, he plunges his middle finger straight into your gaping heat, your tight wall of ringed muscles that had been fluttering in light pulses for his attention. fuck, he almost reaches his own climax by feeling how you squirm and writhe, moan and mewl as he starts pushing his finger in, and then out.

in, and then out. in, once more. and out, again. and then, another finger.

his fingers sank into your soft, damp pussy — which yielded easily enough with a soft pssh! as the digits pressed in. gojo pulled his hand back out from your thighs, enjoying the tight resistance and suction as your cunt has resisted being empty once more, leaving a cool moistness on his skin.

but now your hands gently cup his face, and he isn't sure how to not crumble with how you look at him, eyes wide and glossy, "wan' more, want your cock, 'toru."

now, gojo feels as though he's truly ascended, gone onto some higher plane of existence. because how can he resist when your hands are weakly pawing at his belt, at his waistband and he's letting you pull his thick shaft out.

it's hot, and already weeping angry tears of pre-cum, and he just loves how your eyes widen at the sheer size and girth.

"yeah, princess was sooo brave earlier, wasn't she? wanted my cock, ah! shit - did she?" and he's letting the wide tip lay heavy against your clit, knocking it once, and then twice, through your heavenly folds.

you've reached a leg up, and around his waist, pulling him closer and gojo has to pierce his lip with his teeth to not let out a gutteral groan from his cock sliding through the your folds, "i don't - don't care, i really don't fucking care if it's too big. just put it in now, m' so wet, i'm wet enough."

your babble is endearing, and he marvels at how easily he has you cock-drunk without even being in you right now. he jostles further, until the tip is right at your flittering entrance, pressing forward and slipping through the heated, slick gummy texture in a way that has the strongest's head spinning.

"easy, princess. oh fuck, you're too tight. way too tight, i'm gonna -" and gojo inhales, steadying himself, as the wet heat enveloped him as he moved, each slide through the soft walls of your pussy leaving him acutely aware of every inch, the warmth coating him further until your slick was dampening the white, stray hairs of his groin.

he pulls your lips close again, one hand coming up to gently cradle your head, and his fingers weaving slowly through your hair.

"you're so deep in me, 'toru! so - hnngh," and your words are cut off by a staccato thrust of his hips, and your teeth clack around a moan that gojo gladly swallows.

"hey, i'm right here. i've got you, yeah? got you so good, just hold onto me."

and he keeps a steady pace, plunging into molten silk, with a sensation so intense and so enveloping that it left him breathless, with a rush of heat that made his head spin.

he's toying with your tits, pressing his face into the shadow that lies between your mounds, and gojo's certain that he could die a happy man like this, exactly like this.

he realises that the faint laugh is coming from him, so distant is he in his pussy-drunk reverie, that he realises he must look and sound like a madman, "pretty pussy is so tight, so fucking tight. haah, i think i'm gonna have to fill you up, gorgeous?" and he must be blathering, "want me to fill you up? shit- want me to stuff... ah! stuff you so full of cum that we just hafta stay in this bed all day then?"

he had his fingers now moving in circles over your throbbing clit, exerting a gentle pressure that had you so beautifully keening and bucking your hips up, jolting right into his pelvis. and gojo bit back as a groan as his heavy balls started to smack, and smack! over and over again, right onto your dampened skin.

"she must be close right, pretty little pussy must be almost tired now," and gojo's now slapping your clit, lifting three fingers up and bringing them down with enough force to not harm you, but make you jolt, "she. must. be. so. close." and each word is punctuated by the slippery spank of his fingers bouncing right off your mound.

"makes me want to have you - you and her," and gojo's revelling in the slick of your pussy, now throwing his head back without shame.

and when your walls start to flutter, when you start writhing in his grasp, pressed right against his chest with your legs knocked back as far as they reach on other side of his broad frame, he feels himself unravel. feels the rhythmic quake of your tight cunt literally milk him dry, letting pools of thick, white seed plug within you, and he almost shakes and tears up himself, at the idea of claiming you like this.

later, he has you resting against his chest and the knot in his chest, that nasty plague that sent him afoul has disappeared, and gojo feels as though he's about to start purring, from the feeling of your nails trailing little shapes over his skin (little hearts, perhaps?) and how soft your hair feels under his own hands. he can't resist himself from pressing his lips softly to your forehead, "happy?"

you laugh, a genuine, soft sound that erupts from your chest as you press your bare body into him, "you have no idea."

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #works #daphworks

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genderqueerdykes · 2 months ago

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holy shit wait…your 32???

I…im gonna cry

I didn’t know we can live this long…

not just trans mass but…

alterhuman…and plurals..and…

I can’t…

so happy

gonna cry……..

yes i am! i was born in 1992 :)

that's exactly why i have my age in my bio- i've wanted to show people that you don't "outgrow" fundamental parts of your identity. it's natural to adopt and shed identities as we age, but i've been out as genderqueer since 19! nothing has changed, i'm still the same genderqueer person i was all those years ago!

and if anything- life has gotten better in my 30s. as a word of advice to most people out there: your teen years and your twenties FUCKING SUCK!!!!!!!! they tell you those are the "best years of your life" but they're NOT- you're growing into a world that is terrifying and doesn't understand you. you're scared. your brain and body are still developing and you're constantly facing new challenges. those are honestly i think the HARDEST years of your life, hands down

when i was a teenager, i would think to myself "phht there's literally no way i'm making it past 25 lmao" and figure that life ends after 25. well, that day came where i turned 25... and nothing changed.

and then i turned 30. still, nothing changed

now i'm 32 and... nothing has changed. maturation happens with age, yes, but it doesn't mean that you're suddenly a completely different person. people have such a shitty view on 30 year olds, like it's somehow "embarrassing" to be above the age of 25 years old. people in their 30s are constantly picked on, we're constantly told to "act our age" when... we are. i'm happier than ever realizing that I made it to my 30s, still trans, still nonhuman, still plural

i've been in treatment for DID since 2017, and while i've healed a lot, i have not integrated with my alters, and i never will. i don't want to. this is how my brain functions. the dissociation can be a nightmare for me, but my brain needs different people inside of it in order to be able to function properly. we tried to force ourselves to live as a singlet for 3 years and what ended up happening was that host at that time cracked from being under the constant pressure and still has never returned. the amount of stress it placed on us to try to live as a singlet was not worth it. at all

there hasn't been a singular moment in my adult life where i stopped being nonhuman, either. that was something that i never even tried to force myself out of. i never viewed it as weird or something that i should "outgrow"- i told my own mother that i did not identify as human as a child and that never left me. even now, i still wear dog collars, ears, tails, and take nature walks and do things to make myself feel more like my nonhuman selves. i'm still a furry, too!

i might not be a queer "elder" yet, but i'm happy as can be to be able to be an older queer person who can use their experience to help younger folks. thanks for sending this message! trust me, there really is a life after your 20s. your teens and 20s suck massively. but after i passed 30 i became more down to earth about my age. it's not a bad thing to live past 20- in fact, it's a badge of honor. i made it. i'm still breathing, i'm still here, still queer, despite all attempts to prevent me from still being here.

i'm going to continue be here for a long, long time, and you can be here with me, too.

take care of yourself! thanks for stopping by!

#asks #feedback #positive #about us

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hypnotizedstarkey · 18 days ago

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study buddy part 2!

not proof read!

summary: in which after the first session, nerd!rafe and reader can’t seem to focus on the real work again

warnings: unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), switch!rafe, female receiving, hair pulling, praising, slight overstimulation, ride cowgirl!, etc?

it’s been a week since i’ve seen rafe. i’ve never been so confused about a man before, every time he’s seen me he has avoided my path and hasn’t looked at me. like he’s regretting that session.

i’m watching him across the room as we speak and he definitely knows i’m staring right at him.

why the fuck wont he talk to me let alone look at me.

i get up, on foot in front of the other and march towards him. “rafe-“ he gets up, gathering his things, fixing his glasses and walking away. actually what the fuck.

i follow him out into the empty hallway of our campus. walking at a faster pace this time to catch up to him, “no what’s your fucking problem, rafe?” my sharp tone coming off strong. he stops. “y/n-“ he goes to answer. “no seriously why are you completely avoiding me? did i do something wrong?” i don’t understand what i could’ve done, i feel like he might regret that session or regret doing it with me.

he turns around.

“you didn’t do anything wrong.. listen i’ve just been feeling like maybe you weren’t looking for anything serious, i mean ive heard you’ve been going out with other guys and not that that’s a bad thing, im sure lots of guys would take that chance to go out with you, i mean i would- no i wouldnt- no i dont mean i wouldn’t” his rambling starting to come out and he’s basically trembling. “rafe i haven’t been going out with anyone since the last time i saw you.” his nervous expression falls.

“really?” “really.”

there’s a silence between us and now im the one starting to feel nervous.

“do you want some help again?” he clears his throat, still avoiding eye contact. “yeah..” i walk towards him, walking side by side. a small dares to form across my face.

as i unlock my door, rafe behind me, i feel the familiarity of the first time i had him on my bed.

rafe pulls out the same chair he used last time to tutor me, “so which part do you need help on?”

as time passed, i grew more and more bored of the assignments and studying, all i could focus on was his face and the way he spoke, the way his hands grazed the pages he flipped, the way his fingers grew up to his glasses to push them to the spot they were always in.

i must’ve started growing delusional because i swear rafe was focusing on me more than usual, like he was thinking of me the way i was thinking of him.

“we can take a break?” i suggest breaking the tension that filled us. “yeah let’s take a break” he was quick to agree. our eyes stuck on each other. the air grew thick and the room suddenly became hot and intense.

our bodies somehow grew closer together and our knees touching, neither of us wanting to move, hoping the small touch would get us to settle down.

“fuck this” rafe reaching across the table pulling me and hungrily kissing me, our tongues dancing heavily and our breathing growing stronger. we both are fumbling across the room and into my bed, unbuckling his pants and taking each others clothes off. our kisses wandering onto each others bodies, his lips on my chest and his hands removing my bra.

i gasped as he lapped his tongue around my nipples, massaging and pinching one of he wasn’t using his mouth on it. “feels ‘s good” his eyes looking up at me, watching the pleasure he was giving me. unlatching his mouth from my breasts, he pushes me back a little, making me lay down. he kisses down to my stomach, then to my lace wet panties. “you’re so beautiful. i’m obsessed with you.” his words making me melt by the second.

my hair spread across the bed, my face suddenly feeling flushed. “let me these off, hm?” i nodded. “gonna let me taste you. baby? say yes or i’ll stop.” “yes rafe please just touch me already.” the desperation in my voice embarrassing me a little, this is probably what it felt like for him.

he pulls off my panties, stuffing them in his pocket. he leaves kisses on the inside and outside of my thighs, worshipping my body. finally, licking a strip up to my bud. a gasp leaving my mouth as he continues to lap his tongue around me. moans leaving my mouth as i tug on his hair. he groans in pleasure.

who would’ve though the nerdiest boy on our campus was so slutty in bed?

without a warning, he shoves his two fingers into me hitting a spot in me i haven’t felt before. “rafe- oh my god!” a loud moan releasing from me as he continued to work his way through my pleasure. his nose beginning to hit my bud and my eyes roll back, moans struggling to come from me. his free hand comes up to massage and pinch my nipples once again, sending me over the edge. “i’m gonna cum!” he doesn’t stop and curls his fingers inside of me.

“cum on my mouth please” his desperation kicking in.

i feel that familiar band snap in me and i already feel so fucked out of my mind. where the fuck did he learn how to do that?

my breaths heavy and hair a mess. i move towards him, his mouth glistening with his spit mixed with my juices. he looks so fucking good like this. i kiss him, tasting myself. our kiss heats up once again and i feel him poking my through his pants. “let me take care of you, pretty boy, yeah?” now he’s nodding his head frantically as i palm him through his boxers, freeing him from them i get on top of him.

“let me do all the work for now” before he knows it im the one on top of him, i grab him, rubbing his tip against my wetness, his mouth dropping open a little in awe. “stop teasin’” his eyes begging for me to fuck him. i sink down slowly, both of us gasp. “oh fuckkk” a low groan coming from him as i slowly rock my hips against his.

his eyes closed now from the pleasure taking over, “keep your eyes open or i’ll stop moving, rafe.” my voice stern, his eyes snap open and he looks drunk on how good he feels. i grow my pace faster, the sounds of our mess making the room filled with moans and groans. “you’re doing ‘s good for me, yeah? you like how i’m fucking you dumb?” he moans in response. i grab his jaw, his mouth opening slightly, “tell me, rafe.” he puts his head back a little and i bounce harder against him. “holy shit yes y/n!” his moans making me need to cum again.

“gonna cum for me rafey? be so good for me?” he nods, slight drool coming out of his mouth. “show me how much you want to cum.” his hands are gripping on my ass, slapping one of them harshly. he wraps his arms around my waist and starts fucking hammering into me. his balls slapping against me. he feels so deep inside of me and my nails are scratching his shoulders and back but he definitely likes it with the way he’s moaning.

“rafe! i’m gonna cum!” he doesn’t slow down, drunk on how good we both feel and caught in the moment. he reaches down to my bud, rubbing it in circles, making me shudder. the second time i feel the familiar band in my snap, this time hitting my harder.

rafe doesn’t stop rubbing my clit. my sensitive bud making me moan out in a pain like pleasure. “too sensitive!” i manage to moan out, snapping him from his trance. he finally gets the same familiar feeling, his hot cum inside of me now. he slowly pulls out of me, watching our mixed juices leak from me. the room is now filled with the sound of rapid breathing.

he kisses my lips, this time sweetly and leaving kisses along my face. the butterflies in my stomach.

“can i take you out on a real date? instead of a “session”?” he uses his fingers to air quote “session”, a chuckle leaving his mouth.

a laugh leaves my lips, “i was hoping you’d ask, nerd boy.”

i love my awkward couple! don’t you?

don’t be afraid to leave some requests and thank you for liking these!!! 💞

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tojisun · 5 months ago

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CW: noncon; omegaverse stuff so ruts/heats + power and hierarchical omegaverse dynamics; shift in balance of power; claiming; gn!reader; rambly as hell bc im writing this while sleep deprived but! the worms. they are going through it!!!

alpha soap who, traditionally, goes for omegas but you—

oh, how he wants you.

it was a fortunate coincidence, one that has johnny turning to the lord if only to give his thanks because he knows that none of this would have been possible if he just happened to be even a minute late. ‘this’ being the shift in the wafting scents that filled up the little, and on the brink of bankruptcy, bookstore in the corner of the street.

it’s never packed in the weekdays so johnny often goes there to unwind when his senses are overstimulated, feeling his eyes straining in their sockets and his throat closing up almost like he’s having an allergic reaction—he’s had it checked before and leslie said he doesn’t have any allergies.

patches are advertised but no one in this town ever sees them as priority because of how archaic the town still remains, but also because almost everyone is bonded. don’t mind the fact that scent patches are not only for single folks but whatever.

point is that if johnny was tired, he would find reprieve in the bookstore long enough that he was able to gather his bearings and brave another trek around the city because a mission is still a mission, and overloaded senses just needed to be dealt with as quickly as possible.

today should not have been any different. today should have just been another quick break; another quiet lull as johnny forced the buzzing senses into silence enough that he could think again.

today should have just been another day.

but then johnny was opening the door to the bookstore at the same time that someone was walking out—knobby shoulders bump against his—and johnny’s emotions flare up, eating at the reason straining at his mind. something like a storm explodes in the corners of his head, and johnny really should have realized then what it was.

it was not just oversensitivity. it was not just another bout of overloaded senses. it was—

something warm churns from the base of his stomach, before winding down his body until it pools on the plane of his spine. it felt like molten glass or liquid mercury; dragging. marking.

sticky. liquorice.

johnny breathes in, the air passing through his mouth instead. then, something buttery—like wine aged within the barrel—erupts on his tongue. it tastes like honeyed new wood.

like an alpha in a rut.

he turns, suddenly hyperaware of everything, before lashing his hand out to reach for the stranger before they could leave. the touch not soothing, and it has the alpha growling at johnny. the sound rumbles from the base of your throat, like an alligator’s bellow, and yet it made johnny’s gums ache. they want his teeth to gnaw. to tear. to mark.

you growl again, this time in warning, and johnny has spent enough ruts to understand what you want. you want to leave. to hightail out of the shop and maybe even the city, before crawling into your bed—not a nest, johnny trills to himself, not with how clean your scent is because you’re unmated—to spend your rut alone.

lord, would you fuck your own fist? or fuck a toy for your knot? would you fuck your hole too? fill it up too, or could you only cum if you are the one doing the filling?

whatever it is, johnny promises to overwrite your lonely experience. he’s here now, after all, isn’t he? and don’t alphas need help?

so johnny still doesn’t let go, his strength exceptional especially against an alpha whose rut is beginning to swell. instead, he replies to your growls with a snarl, one that is ripped from the rumble of his chest, before showing off his jagged fangs.

it is an archaic way of challenging an alpha, and he knows that no one follows the tradition anymore, but habit is difficult to change and johnny finds himself posturing against you, a shocked alpha whose raging storm of lust flickered just enough to allow johnny to fully tug you out of the bookstore and into the little winding path away from the streets. you protest, trying to shake him off, but you are so, so weak and johnny is so, so powerful, and he needs to do something before he could even think about letting you go.

johnny’s seen it done a handful of times back at the base. it’s not something price usually dishes out, but it was something everyone knew he could do. and one that he could do well. johnny remembers seeing it for the first time and thinking that betrayal will never even cross his own mind because there is something far worse than having a target on one’s back and that was—

it was to—

force an alpha into submission.

johnny remembers kyle’s interest and ghost’s morbid curiosity. hell, he even remembers his own anticipation when their captain had dragged a traitor to the centre pit by the scruff, his pheromones overflowing and stifling like a heavy fog. johnny remembers how john had made it seem so easy; how he was able to coax a gentler scent out of connors when price had cornered the alpha to the point that he bore their captain’s full weight. then, johnny remembers the marking.

the way their captain’s teeth dug into connors’ skin before tearing, and tearing, until the bite took. until the mangled mess left on connors’ olive skin would be a permanent fixture.

until connors’ alpha scent turned softer. prettier.

(price led connors to his room, and the two stayed there for days. no one questioned or teased because they all knew that bitching an alpha sometimes was better than breeding an omega.

and their captain had all the rights to call dibs on connors.)

johnny remembers all of this as he leads you away. his palms have turned clammy, gums aching once more with need. with ever-growing desire. he hears you hiss at him, snapping that he better let you go and that he fuck off before you do something he’d regret but johnny is deaf to all your threats because they’re empty.

lord, he knows you could even barely stand up straight right now—your knees knock against each other with every wobbly step. but he lets you talk; lets you use your words as shield because johnny keeps leading you away from view.

he sees a secured nook, one that was hidden away from prying eyes—you’re his, after all—and begins to settle.

to prepare for the feast now that the hunt’s over.

he pushes you forward, until all your front is pressed against the wall. your cheek is smooshed, tiny pebbles digging into your skin, and he knows that all of that would be unpleasant later when the adrenaline’s gone, but johnny can’t find it in himself to care. because he follows soon, folding himself over your back before burying his face on the crook of your neck.

you freeze. johnny takes that moment to take a deep drag of your smell.

your scent fills his senses once again, overtaking his coherence and bypassing his rationality to drown himself in the strong aroma wafting from you. it’s too good, too delicious, that it has johnny rumbling, pleased with himself for picking you up all for him because you will be, and are, his now.

the weight of his tongue and the throbbing of his gums echo his thoughts.

his. hishishis—

“god,” johnny croaks out, the first he’s said since this ordeal. “you smell absolutely divine.”

“sir. sir, please—”

“shh,” he says, pulling the collar of your shirt back. “it’d be over soon.”

“no— sir! i don’t— please—”

blood bursts in johnny’s mouth and his alpha sings in pleasure.

mine. mineminemine.

#alpha x alpha #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #soap x reader #suns #im intrigued by this flavour of alpha/alpha dynamics bc theyre so artfully terrifying #…japanese mangas have shown me farther wanders ive yet to understand

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morganxwritess · 7 months ago

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⋆｡°✩ 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭.

carlos sainz x leclerc!fem!reader

summary: while scrolling through insta in the middle of the night, you come across carlos’s most recent post, stirring unexpected feelings within you warnings: smut ahead, 18+ mdni, cute fluffy smut, quickie in the middle of the night, p in v sex, slight somnophilia (barely any!) note: i love F1!!! typically, im a charles girlie, but recently carlos has had me some type of way. the photos he posted on insta before silverstone had me weak and were major inspo for this! forza ferrari sempre <3 word count: 3.0k

Mindlessly scrolling on your phone, you felt your brain slowly surrendering to the sweet embrace of sleep, which you desperately craved. Silverstone was just around the corner, promising a whirlwind of media frenzy. As a Ferrari photographer, you knew you needed every ounce of rest to capture the perfect shots. You could almost hear the roar of engines and feel the anticipation in the air, but for now, all you wanted was to drift into a deep, restorative slumber, preparing yourself to deliver your finest work under the demanding spotlight of the weekend ahead.

That is, until you stumbled upon his most recent post.

Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped slightly as you gawked at the photos from Carlos's new Instagram update. He had never looked more handsome, and that was saying something, considering you'd seen him all sweaty and shirtless post-race. The images were captivating, each one showcasing his chiseled features and smoldering charisma. Suddenly, sleep was the last thing on your mind as you stared at the screen, your heart racing as fast as the car he'd be driving at Silverstone.

Placing your phone on the bedside table of a hotel room that wasn't yours, you rolled over in bed to face the man who had stirred such excitement within you. There he was, fast asleep with one arm tucked under his head, catching the tiniest bit of drool that dribbled from his mouth. His other arm rested lazily around your hip, holding you close. A soft smile crept onto your face as you watched him, his usual polished image replaced by this endearing, unguarded moment. For a brief second, all thoughts of the upcoming weekend faded away, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the quiet comfort of being wrapped in his embrace.

As you nestled closer, your mind wandered back to the whirlwind of events that led you here, to this intimate moment in a foreign hotel room. The thrill of a race, the pressure of the media, and the electric chemistry that had sparked between you and Carlos.

You remembered the stolen glances across the paddock, the secret smiles, and the way his hand had lingered on yours just a little too long when passing a camera. Tonight had been different though, tonight had felt almost natural, like a routine. You had booked a room on the same floor as his, waited until you knew Charles was either asleep or preoccupied, and then you had joined him, planning on staying there until the morning.

You would slip out before your brother noticed you were missing and with his teammate. It was a risky game you played, but the thrill of it only added to the intensity of your connection with Carlos. You could almost hear Charles’s voice in your head, cautioning you about the complications of mixing personal and professional lives, but at this moment, those warnings seemed distant and insignificant.

"Carlos?" you whispered, trying to gain his attention, but the large man enveloping you in his arms did not move an inch. You gently shook his shoulder, hoping to rouse him without causing too much disturbance.

"Carlos," you repeated, a bit louder this time. He stirred slightly, his grip around your waist tightening, but still he remained asleep.

Too impatient to wait for him to wake up, and knowing this would be the perfect medicine to get you to sleep, you began slowly kissing up his bare chest. Your lips brushed against his warm skin, planting gentle kisses as you made your way upward, feeling his muscles react to your touch. You slowly made your way up his neck and to his jaw, kissing and biting down softly against the spot you knew drove him mad. A low, soft groan escaped his mouth, encouraging your movements. His breathing grew heavier as your lips continued their teasing path, each kiss and nip igniting a spark of desire.

"Carlos," you whispered against his skin, your voice barely audible but filled with longing. He shifted slightly, his grip on your waist tightening as he began to wake.

"You're relentless, mi corazón," he murmured, his voice a mix of amusement and arousal. His eyes flickered open, dark and intense, meeting yours with a smoldering gaze.

"And you love it," you teased, your lips brushing against his ear. He responded with a deeper groan, his hand moving up to cradle the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

"You're right," he admitted, his voice husky. "I do."

You smiled, feeling a rush of satisfaction as you continued your ministrations, your kisses growing more insistent. His reactions spurred you on, his body responding to every touch, every kiss. The room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this stolen moment of intimacy.

"You're going to drive me crazy," he whispered, his lips finding yours in a passionate kiss. His hands roamed over your body, drawing you even closer, “What has made you so needy? Were the three orgasms earlier not enough?”

“You,” you gasped as he shifted you so you were sitting on top of his hard erection. He pulled you down, devouring your lips with his own, your tongues battling for dominance. You pulled away, your breath coming in soft pants, and admitted, “I saw your new Instagram post. The one of you in the blue.”

One of his dark, thick eyebrows skyrockets in amusement. "Mi corazón, you took those photos."

"I know," you replied, a hint of sheepishness in your voice, "But I didn’t edit them or really look at them much after I sent them to your team. I didn’t realize how sexy you looked in them, or I would’ve kept them for myself."

He chuckled softly, his fingers tracing gentle patterns along your hips. "You know you'll always have me all to yourself. Besides, the world may have seen those pictures, but they didn't see what happened after."

His voice held a hint of playful mischief, and you couldn't help but smile at his teasing tone. "And what did happen after?" you asked, your voice filled with mock curiosity, pretending to forget that unforgettable night.

"Well, if you forgot, maybe I should remind you," he stated, diving in to capture your lips again. His kiss was passionate and insistent, rekindling the fire of that unforgettable night.

You sat on his lap as he devoured your lips with his own. Getting lost in the sensation, you began rocking against him, your movements slow and deliberate. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you, his touch sending shivers down your spine. Each kiss deepened, growing more fervent as your bodies moved in sync, the intensity of the moment overwhelming your senses.

As the kiss deepened, you could feel the intensity between you both growing, making it impossible to think about anything else. Carlos's hands roamed your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. Your breaths mingled, the room filled with the sound of your shared passion.

His lips left yours, trailing down your neck, planting hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. "You are so beautiful, mi corazón," he murmured against your collarbone, his voice a rough whisper.

"Don’t stop," you replied, your own voice breathless and filled with desire.

His hands moved lower, slipping beneath your shirt, which actually belonged to him, caressing the bare skin of your back. You arched into his touch, your head falling back as he continued to explore your body with his mouth and hands. Time seemed to blur as you lost yourselves in each other. The worries of the outside world faded away, replaced by the overwhelming need to be together, to savor every moment.

Carlos shifted slightly, laying you down on the bed, his body hovering over yours. His eyes, dark with desire, locked onto yours, silently asking for permission. You nodded, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, pulling him down to meet you in another searing kiss.

In that moment, nothing else existed but the two of you, wrapped in each other's arms, lost in the passion and connection that only seemed to grow stronger with every touch, every kiss.

You reached for his tight boxers that hugged his hips and showcased every inch of him, pulling them down to let his large length spring free. He helped, pushing them down the rest of the way until they fell off his legs, never moving his lips from yours for a moment.

His hands returned to your hips, gripping you firmly as he deepened the kiss, his need for you evident in every touch. Your own hands explored the newly exposed skin, reveling in the heat and strength of his body.

Too impatient to wait for another moment, Carlos grabbed the red lace underwear that covered what was his and ripped it down the middle, exposing your most intimate area.

"I liked that pair," you pouted, objecting breathlessly.

"I'll buy you ten more just like it," he growled, his voice filled with raw desire. "Whatever you want. I just have to have you."

His urgency was contagious, sending a thrill through your body. Before you could respond, he positioned himself at your entrance, his eyes locked onto yours with a fierce intensity.

In one swift motion, he thrust into you, filling you completely. The sensation was electric, and you gasped, your hands clutching at his shoulders. He paused for a moment, his forehead resting against yours, both of you breathing heavily.

Then he began to move, his rhythm relentless and demanding, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge. His hands gripped your hips, holding you firmly as he drove deeper, his need for you palpable in every motion.

Your bodies moved together in perfect harmony, the room filled with the sounds of your shared passion. You could feel the tension building, the pressure mounting with each powerful thrust. Carlos's lips found yours again, his kiss searing and desperate, as if he couldn't get enough of you.

"You're mine," he murmured against your lips, his voice a husky whisper that sent shivers down your spine.

"Yes," you gasped, your own need spiraling out of control. "All yours."

As the pace quickened, you felt the familiar build of ecstasy, your body tensing in anticipation. Carlos's movements grew more urgent, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered sweet nothings in Spanish, the sound of his voice pushing you closer to the brink.

With a final, powerful thrust, you both tumbled over the edge, lost in the waves of pleasure that crashed over you. Your cries of ecstasy mingled, echoing in the room as you clung to each other, riding out the intense high together.

Afterwards, you collapsed against him, your bodies entwined, hearts pounding in unison. Carlos's breath was hot against your skin as you both lay there, basking in the aftermath of your passion. The soft glow of the moonlight light filtered through the curtains, casting a small shadow over the room, making everything feel warm and surreal.

Carlos gently stroked your hair, his touch tender and soothing. "I could stay like this forever," he whispered, his voice filled with contentment.

You smiled, nuzzling closer to him. "Me too."

As you lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, the reality of your situation began to creep back in. The world outside was waiting, with its demands and expectations. But in this moment, you were just two people, lost in each other, savoring the connection you had found.

"Do you think Charles suspects anything?" you asked, a hint of worry creeping into your voice.

Carlos chuckled softly, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your back. "If he does, he hasn't said anything. But we should be careful. For now, let's just enjoy this."

You nodded, your worries momentarily pushed aside. "Agreed."

The rest of the night drifted by in a haze of shared touches and whispered words. Eventually, the warmth and comfort of Carlos's embrace lulled you both into a peaceful sleep. The world outside ceased to exist, leaving just the two of you in your bubble of blissful contentment.

⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩

You were jolted awake by the insistent pounding on the hotel room door. Groggy and disoriented, you glanced at the clock on the bedside table, realizing with a start that you had overslept. Carlos stirred beside you, muttering something under his breath as he tried to wake up.

The pounding continued, accompanied by a familiar voice calling out, "Carlos? Are you in there? We need to get going!"

Your heart leaped into your throat as you recognized Charles's voice. Panic set in as you quickly disentangled yourself from Carlos and scrambled to find your clothes.

"Carlos, wake up!" you whispered urgently, shaking him awake. "It's Charles! He's at the door!"

Carlos's eyes flew open, and he quickly assessed the situation. "Mierda" he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

You both moved quickly, trying to make the room look as if nothing had happened. You carefully slipped into the bathroom to hide, your heart pounding in your chest. Carlos pulled on his boxers and a pair of jeans, trying to appear as casual as possible.

The pounding on the door grew louder. "Carlos, come on! We need to leave now!"

Carlos took a deep breath and opened the door, blocking Charles's view of the room. "Sorry, I overslept. Give me a minute to get ready."

Charles looked past Carlos into the room, suspicion etched on his face. "Is someone else in there?"

Carlos's heart raced, but he maintained his composure. "No, just me. I had a rough night and crashed hard."

Charles raised an eyebrow but didn't press further. "Well, hurry up. We're on a tight schedule. I’m going to wait in the car." He turned on his heel and left, the door clicking shut behind him.

Carlos let out a sigh of relief, running a hand through his tousled hair. "That was too close," he muttered, glancing over at you with a wry smile.

You couldn't help but chuckle, the adrenaline of the close call making your heart race. "Yeah, no kidding. We better get moving."

Quickly, you both scrambled around the room and started getting dressed, the urgency of the situation replacing the earlier tenderness. Carlos handed you your clothes, a playful glint in his eye despite the circumstances.

"You owe me a new pair of underwear," you teased, taking off his shirt and slipping on your own.

"I told you I'll buy you ten more," he promised, leaning in for a quick, stolen kiss. "But right now, we need to get out of here."

You both hurriedly finished dressing, the thought of Charles waiting in the car for you both spurring you on. As you grabbed your things, you couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all – sneaking around, stolen moments, and now this mad dash to avoid your brother's suspicion.

Carlos opened the door, peeking out to make sure the coast was clear. "All set?"

You nodded, taking a deep breath. "Let's go."

Together, you made your way down the hallway, the echoes of your footsteps blending with the thudding of your heart. The thrill of the secret, the rush of almost being caught, it all added to the intensity of your relationship with Carlos.

As you reached the lobby, you saw Charles waiting near the exit, his impatient figure visible from a mile away. Carlos gave your hand a quick squeeze before you both stepped out, trying to act casual.

Charles glanced up as you approached, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I’ve been calling you, Y/N. Why didn’t you pick up?"

“Phone died, and I forgot a charger.” You lied, seamlessly as you followed your brother out of the hotel and onto the street where a car was waiting for you.

You slid into the backseat next to Charles, Carlos taking the passenger seat up front next to the driver. As the car pulled away, you caught Carlos's eye in the rearview mirror. He winked at you, a silent promise of more stolen moments to come.

Attempting to hide your blush, you looked down at your lap and opened your phone, forgetting the lie you had just told Charles. When the screen lit up, the first thing you saw were the photos that had caused the delay—Carlos in that striking blue button-up. You couldn't help but hide your smile with a smirk, quickly turning your phone over to keep your emotions in check.

"I thought you just said your phone was dead?" Charles asked, his confusion evident.

Carlos snickered in the front seat, clearly enjoying your predicament. You stuttered out, "Maybe I was just ignoring you."

Charles raised an eyebrow, glancing between you and Carlos. "Right. Well, let's just focus on getting to the track on time."

You nodded, grateful that he didn't press the issue further. The rest of the drive was filled with a tense silence, the only sounds being the hum of the engine and the occasional comment from Charles about the schedule for the day.

Carlos occasionally glanced back at you, his eyes twinkling with amusement. You could feel your blush deepening, but you managed to keep your composure. The memory of the night’s events and the photos on your phone lingered in your mind, adding a secret thrill to the day ahead.

As you pulled up to the track, the familiar roar of engines and the buzz of activity greeted you. The tension from the morning began to dissipate, replaced by the excitement of the race weekend. The driver parked the car, and you all climbed out, ready to dive into the day's work.

Carlos leaned in close as you walked toward the paddock, his voice low and teasing. "Try not to get too distracted, mi corazón. We've got a busy day ahead."

You shot him a playful glare, but couldn't suppress the smile that tugged at your lips. "You too, mon ange. Focus on the race."

He grinned, giving you a quick nod before heading off in his own direction. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the day ahead. Despite the early morning chaos, you felt a renewed sense of energy and determination. This race weekend was going to be unforgettable, both on and off the track.

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itendtothinkalot · 8 days ago

Text

& it was all yellow (strangers to lovers)

summary: yellow was never beomgyu’s favorite color—until you came along with your ridiculously bright yellow headphones that somehow made you look even cuter. he saw you on the bus once, just minding your business, and that was it—game over for him. suddenly, yellow wasn’t just a color; it was you. the only problem? beomgyu (yes, the choi beomgyu, who seems cool and confident to everyone else) turns into a shy, blushing mess whenever you’re around. now he’s sitting there, heart racing, trying to come up with any excuse to talk to you—without making a complete fool of himself. except he does.

genre: fluff!!! super mega fluff. no angst. none at all. i promise!

characters: beomgyu x f!reader

words: 11.9k

warnings: cursing? i think

a/n: im such a beomgyu simp. i just have so much ideas for this man...and legend has it hes not even my bias.........................

Beomgyu liked to think of himself as two different people.

There was Group Beomgyu—the one his friends knew. Loud, quick-witted, always cracking jokes that left everyone in stitches. He was the guy who could light up a room without even trying. The one who dared his friends to do the ridiculous, like singing karaoke in public or sneaking fries into a movie theater.

But then, there was Solo Beomgyu.

That version of him emerged the moment he was alone. Quiet. Thoughtful. A little unsure of himself. Solo Beomgyu found solace in the mundane—watching raindrops race down bus windows, people-watching from his favorite spot at the back of the bus, and trying to guess the life stories of strangers in passing.

The bus ride to campus was his favorite part of the day. It was his escape, his time to recharge before stepping into the chaos of college life. And lately, it had become even more interesting—because of you.

It was silly, really. The first time he noticed you, he thought you looked cute as you climbed onto the bus in a skirt and baby tee. Your hair was tied back in a low ponytail, and you wore a pair of headphones that were impossible to miss. Those headphones—bright, sunny yellow—were probably the most damning thing about you.

How could someone so effortlessly capture his attention with something as simple as a pop of color? Yet there you were, sitting a few seats away, bobbing your head to the music only you could hear, completely oblivious to the way you’d become the highlight of his mornings.

Life had a funny way of showing irony. Just the day before, after spending hours gaming with his buddies, Beomgyu had sighed into his pillow, the weight of routine pressing down on him. It wasn’t that he hated his life—far from it. He was content, in a way. But somewhere deep down, he felt like his world had lost its color.

Nothing excited him anymore. Life had become an endless loop: wake up, take the bus to campus, study, head home, game with his friends, sleep, and repeat. Sure, there were the occasional party invitations, and he didn’t mind attending one here and there. But even those didn’t light a spark in him. They were fun, sure, but not really his scene.

It was strange to think how much his days blended together—until recently. Because now, as silly as it sounded, one part of his routine had started to stand out.

You.

Or, more specifically, your bright yellow headphones. They’d added a splash of color to his otherwise grayscale world. Something about how unapologetically vibrant they were made you seem larger than life, even as you quietly kept to yourself. It wasn’t just the headphones—it was you. The way you looked so at ease in your own little bubble, head bobbing to music only you could hear.

It was ridiculous to feel this drawn to someone he’d never even spoken to. But then again, maybe those yellow headphones weren’t just a splash of color. Maybe they were the first brushstroke of something entirely new.

It had been weeks since he’d first noticed you. By now, he’d already memorized your bus schedule—not because he was a stalker or anything, but simply because you seemed to follow the same routine as him. Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays, like clockwork, you’d board the bus at the same stop, settle into your usual seat, and disappear into your world of music.

The two of you always got off at the same stop, though you’d inevitably drift in separate directions. He’d head toward the business building, his heavy bag slung over one shoulder, while you veered off toward the art center. That alone made him think you were an arts student. It fit, somehow. There was something creative about the way you carried yourself—effortless, like you were painting a masterpiece just by walking through the world.

And even though he didn’t know your name or anything about you beyond these small details, you’d already become a fixture in his mind.

–

“You should talk to her,” Soobin mumbled, biting off a chunk of his chocolate bar and waving it lazily in the air as if the solution were that simple.

“And say what?” Beomgyu shot back, slumping further into the worn couch in their shared dorm.

“I don’t know... things?” Soobin shrugged, barely looking up from the phone in his other hand.

Beomgyu rolled his eyes, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “You’re useless.”

Soobin smirked. “Says the guy who’s spent weeks staring at her like a weirdo.”

Beomgyu groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “It’s not that easy, okay? What if she’s not interested? What if I mess it up? What if—”

“What if she’s waiting for you to say something?” Soobin interrupted, his tone suddenly a little softer. “Look, all I’m saying is, you’re not gonna get anywhere just memorizing her bus schedule and hoping she notices you exist.”

Beomgyu scoffed but couldn’t deny the sting of truth in his friend’s words. He’d spent so much time admiring you from afar, inventing scenarios in his head, but none of them ever involved him actually... acting on it.

“Fine,” he muttered, more to himself than to Soobin. “I’ll talk to her.”

Soobin raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.” Beomgyu straightened up, determination flickering in his eyes. “Next time I see her, I’ll... I’ll figure something out.”

Soobin grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Can’t wait to hear about how that goes.”

Beomgyu shot him a glare but couldn’t help the tiny smile tugging at his lips.

–

And just like that, he’d convinced himself he was ready to approach you. Except he wasn’t. Days had passed, and despite his mental pep talks and rehearsed lines, he couldn’t bring himself to even say hi.

Like he said, “solo Beomgyu” was a whole different type of Beomgyu.

In front of his friends, he could crack jokes and steal the spotlight without breaking a sweat. But in front of you? He became a nervous wreck, fumbling over words in his head that never even made it out.

Well, that was until one fateful morning.

The city had woken up to chaos. Roads were closed in multiple areas because of some big event Beomgyu didn’t bother to look up—probably a marathon or a parade or something equally annoying to his morning routine. Either way, it was causing a major disruption, and Beomgyu was not thrilled.

He stood at the bus stop, waiting impatiently as three consecutive buses rolled by, each one packed to the brim. It felt like an eternity. He rolled his eyes and groaned inwardly, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder.

Great.

The crowd at the stop grew thicker, and Beomgyu found himself shifting uncomfortably between clusters of impatient commuters. He hated waiting. Hated the feeling of wasting time when he could’ve been doing literally anything else.

And then he saw you.

You stood a little further down the pavement, your yellow headphones perched snugly over your ears, your gaze focused somewhere distant. You didn’t seem nearly as bothered by the chaos around you, which only added to the list of things Beomgyu found unfairly fascinating about you.

For a moment, he debated whether to move closer, maybe strike up a conversation while you both waited. But before he could make up his mind, the next bus pulled up.

This one wasn’t quite as crowded, though still far from comfortable. Beomgyu squeezed on, finding himself pushed toward the back, when suddenly, a voice interrupted his silent grumbling.

“Excuse me.”

It was soft but clear enough to make him glance over—and there you were, maneuvering through the aisle, your bag held close to your side as you tried to find a spot to stand. Beomgyu froze.

You were right there.

Fate, coincidence, bad luck—whatever it was, it had dropped you within arm’s reach. Beomgyu’s heart hammered in his chest as he tried to decide what to do. Say something? Smile? Pretend he didn’t notice you and stare out the window like his life didn’t hinge on this moment?

The bus jolted suddenly, and you stumbled, grabbing onto the nearest pole to steady yourself. Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on how you looked at it—that pole was the same one Beomgyu was holding onto.

Your hand brushed his, just briefly, but it was enough to send his brain into overdrive.

“Sorry,” you said softly, glancing up at him with an apologetic smile before returning your focus to the window.

Beomgyu blinked, his heart still racing. He opened his mouth, words teetering on the edge of spilling out, but all he managed was a faint, “It’s okay.”

You didn’t hear him. Or if you did, you didn’t acknowledge it. And just like that, the moment passed, leaving Beomgyu kicking himself internally.

But as the bus rolled on, he found a tiny flicker of hope. Sure, he hadn’t said much, but you’d spoken to him first. That had to mean something, right?

20 minutes. The bus ride was 20 minutes, and the two of you were right next to each other. Beomgyu felt his palms sweating, his heart pounding in his chest.

God, she’s right beside me. He felt himself gulp, glancing over at you from the corner of his eye.

He’d never been so grateful for being almost a head and a half taller than you. It meant you couldn’t see the small, nervous glances he kept stealing in your direction.

The bus was growing more crowded by the minute. It was starting to get a little uncomfortable. You could feel yourself being pushed into Beomgyu, the pressure increasing with every jolt the bus took. His arms were propped up, gripping the taller handles above him, while you fumbled around, trying to find anything to hold onto. First, you grabbed the pole, then the handles near the seats, but as the bus rocked, you found yourself with nothing to stabilize you.

Beomgyu noticed. His heart skipped a beat. Without thinking, he reached behind you, his hand hovering near your backpack, fingers brushing against the fabric, just trying to hold you steady. He hoped you didn’t notice.

But the bus was moving like a rollercoaster. The driver swerved around a corner, and suddenly, the entire vehicle felt like it was on the edge of tipping. A pothole hit with a thud, and the jolt sent you stumbling.

You flailed for balance, but there was nothing left to grab. Before you knew it, you were teetering dangerously, feeling yourself lose your footing.

In an instant, Beomgyu’s hand shot forward. His fingers found your shoulders, steadying you before you could fall. The warmth of his hands against you was unexpected, sending a flutter through your chest.

You looked up at him, your eyes wide with surprise.

“Thank you,” you said breathlessly, your voice soft but clear, your heart still racing from the near-miss.

Beomgyu froze for a second, the sound of your voice like music to his ears. He felt the flush creep up his neck but tried to hide it with a casual, “No problem.” His grip lingered for just a moment longer than necessary, though neither of you seemed to mind.

The bus swayed again, and for a second, everything felt oddly... comfortable. Beomgyu could hear his heart thumping in his chest, but this time it was because of you—not the chaos of the ride.

—

The next day, the roads had finally cleared up. Beomgyu silently thanked every living being for that, especially since he had been about 30 minutes late for his class the previous day, missing out on a lecture he’d already been struggling with.

As he waited for the bus, his eyes automatically scanned the street, and there you were—your familiar yellow headphones bouncing as you made your way toward the bus stop.

You looked up, catching his eye from a few feet away, and offered him a smile.

“Hello,” you said, your voice light and friendly.

Beomgyu’s heart skipped a beat, and for a split second, he forgot how to breathe. “H-Hello,” he managed to croak out, cringing inwardly. Idiot.

You didn’t seem to mind, though. You gave him another smile, and it felt like the whole world slowed down for a second.

The bus soon arrived, and the two of you got on. Beomgyu’s eyes scanned the seats, and to his horror, all the empty ones were... right next to each other.

He froze. Great. Of course. Of all the seats.

Reluctantly, he made his way toward the row where you had already started to sit, mentally preparing himself for a potentially awkward ride. As he approached, you glanced up at him, your expression brightening.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

You shook your head. “It’s a free country.”

Beomgyu hesitated for a moment longer than necessary before sitting down beside you.

The bus jolted forward, and he instinctively reached for the pole above them, his fingers gripping it a little too tightly. Why am I so nervous? He couldn’t understand it.

Meanwhile, you settled into the seat, adjusting your backpack and glancing out the window. For a moment, it felt like the most natural thing in the world—sitting beside someone you’d barely spoken to but already felt strangely connected with.

Beomgyu had no idea how to break the silence. But then, as if on cue, you turned to him.

“So… how’s your day going so far?”

It was a simple question, but the way you asked it made his heart race all over again. He managed to smile, albeit awkwardly.

“Uh, good, I guess. The roads are less crazy today.”

You laughed, and it felt like the weight in his chest lightened a little. “Yeah, I noticed. It was a mess yesterday.”

He nodded, relieved that the conversation hadn’t turned into an awkward silence.

“So… you’re heading to the art center again?” he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

You nodded, your smile softening. “Yeah. I’m always there on Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays.”

“Oh.” He pretended like he hadn’t known this little detail about you.

Beomgyu found himself relaxing a little more with each passing second. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all. The awkwardness was still there, but it felt like a stepping stone—like the beginning of something that could finally get easier.

The bus continued to roll along, Beomgyu stole a quick glance at you, his heart fluttering as you hummed softly to the music in your headphones. For once, the awkwardness didn’t feel so unbearable.

The next few minutes passed in relative silence, with only the occasional rattle of the bus as it made its way through the streets. Beomgyu found himself struggling to think of anything to say. He could hear the faint melody of your music through the air, but there was no other conversation to fill the space. He tapped his fingers nervously against his thigh, stealing glances at you, trying to figure out how to start another topic.

His mind raced with all the things he could say, but none of them seemed good enough. This is so awkward, he thought, almost groaning internally. Why is this so hard?

His eyes landed on his phone. The distraction was tempting. He pulled it out and quickly opened Spotify, deciding that he could at least use the music to mask the silence between the two of you. Beomgyu scrolled through his playlists, searching for something that felt right for the moment.

The bus jerked again, and Beomgyu adjusted his seat, tapping on a song and turning the volume up, only to suddenly realize—Wait, I haven’t connected my AirPods.

Flustered, he fumbled with his phone, tapping at the Bluetooth settings and then back to the app, his face warming with embarrassment. Idiot.

But as the awkwardness hit its peak, you turned to him with a soft smile. “I like that song,” you said, your voice calm and easy, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. “It really suits you.”

Beomgyu blinked in surprise, his nerves a little shaken by the unexpected compliment. He looked at you, his heart racing again. “It suits me?” he repeated, voice a little higher than he intended.

You shrugged lightly, a mischievous twinkle in your eyes. “Yeah, it’s got a kind of... laid-back vibe. Kind of like you, I guess?”

Beomgyu’s face flushed, not sure whether to laugh or be more self-conscious. He adjusted his AirPods in a hurry, trying to make himself look less flustered than he felt.

“Thanks,” he said, a small grin tugging at his lips. “I mean, it’s just a playlist... but yeah. It’s one of my favorites.”

You smiled back, then looked out the window again, but Beomgyu couldn’t help but notice how much more comfortable the moment felt now. The weight of silence didn’t seem so heavy anymore.

He tapped play on the song again, this time making sure the music was coming through his AirPods. The familiar melody filled his ears, and for once, the awkwardness didn’t feel so unbearable. Instead, it was like a subtle connection was forming, one little step at a time.

"And how would you know if I'm laid-back?" Beomgyu asked shyly, his voice barely above a whisper. He couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious, but the curiosity in your eyes made him feel like he could ask the question without it sounding too awkward.

You chuckled softly, turning to face him for a moment. "I don't know," you shrugged, smiling. "Just a guess? Call it a woman's intuition."

Beomgyu blinked, not quite sure what to say. “Woman's intuition?” he repeated, a little taken aback.

You grinned, a playful glint in your eyes. “I don’t know, maybe I just get a sense of things.” You hesitated for a second, then added, “But I could be wrong. I mean, I don’t really know you.”

He wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. But at least, for now, you didn’t seem to mind.

"I-I guess I do try not to let things bother me too much," he mumbled, still trying to figure out what to do with his hands. "Though, I wouldn't say I'm always that chill. I have my... moments." He let out a nervous laugh, hoping you wouldn't think he was some kind of mess.

You smiled, your eyes crinkling at the corners. "Everyone does."

Beomgyu blinked, surprised by how comforting your words were. For a moment, it felt like the world had slowed down again, and it was just the two of you, exchanging these small moments of understanding.

"True," Beomgyu said softly, his smile growing a little more genuine. "I guess I'm just not great at dealing with, you know, awkward moments."

You looked at him curiously. "Awkward moments, huh?"

Beomgyu nodded, his ears turning a little red. "Yeah... like this one." He gestured vaguely between the two of them, the words spilling out before he could stop them. "I mean, I don't usually... I don't know, talk to people like this."

Your smile softened. "You seem like you’re doing just fine to me."

His heart swelled a little at that. "Really?"

"Yeah," you replied, your tone sincere. "You’re doing great."

Beomgyu’s face lit up with a smile he couldn’t contain. "Thanks," he said, feeling a little less nervous than he had before. "That means a lot, actually."

For a moment, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the sound of the bus’s tires on the road and the faint music in his ears the only background noise. Beomgyu felt a strange sense of peace settle in his chest. Maybe this wasn’t so hard after all.

He glanced over at you, catching you humming softly along to the music, and realized that, somehow, this was one of the most comfortable conversations he’d ever had.

"Hey," Beomgyu said after a beat, his curiosity getting the best of him. "What about you? What’s your favorite type of music?"

You turned to him with a thoughtful look, clearly enjoying the question. "I guess I’m all about the acoustic stuff mostly."

"Acoustic, huh?" Beomgyu said with a smile, intrigued. "I can see that. Seems like something you’d like."

You smiled, the sound of your laughter filling the space between you. "You got that from…?”

“Call it an idiot’s intuition.” He chuckled.

You laughed, “What about you?"

Beomgyu chuckled, trying to hide the grin that spread across his face. "I’m pretty into all kinds of stuff, but right now? Definitely some chill pop. Y’know, maybe I’m starting to agree with you on the whole laid-back thing."

You raised an eyebrow, playfully teasing him. "So, you admit it?"

Beomgyu shrugged, leaning back a little, feeling a little more confident with each word. "Yeah. I guess I do."

And in that moment, Beomgyu finally realized that maybe, just maybe, the things he’d been too nervous to do or say weren’t as difficult as he’d once thought.

—

Beomgyu slumped back into his bus seat, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Idiot," he muttered under his breath. After weeks of stealing glances and summoning every ounce of courage he had, today had finally been the day he talked to you. Well, kind of. It was small talk—weather, classes, and music. But it was progress.

And yet, in his nervousness, he’d forgotten the most important thing. He hadn’t asked for your name or your number. He groaned inwardly, glancing out the window as the bus trundled down the familiar route. It was Thursday, which meant he wouldn’t see you again until Monday. Four whole days.

“Great,” he muttered, slumping further into his seat. “Four days to kick myself for being an idiot.”

Monday arrived far too slowly, and Beomgyu was oddly fidgety, his leg bouncing as he stared at the bus stop from his seat. The bus slowed to a stop, and his heart leapt in anticipation—only to sink when you weren’t there.

He glanced out the window, confused. Maybe you were running late. Or you’d taken an earlier bus? He brushed it off, convincing himself you’d show up tomorrow.

But then Tuesday came. And Wednesday. And still, there was no sign of you.

Beomgyu found himself staring at the seat you always sat in, empty and glaringly obvious. He hated how it bothered him so much. He barely knew you—he didn’t even know your name—and yet he felt like something was missing. Like the bus rides were quieter without the possibility of you being there.

By Thursday, disappointment had settled heavily in his chest. He sat near the back, earphones in but barely paying attention to the music. The world outside the window blurred past, but his thoughts were stuck on you.

Where were you?

—

It had been approximately two weeks since Beomgyu had last seen you. You had vanished like the wind, leaving him frustrated and more restless than he wanted to admit. Every day since, he’d made excuses to linger outside the art center, hoping for some sign of you. Desperation had even driven him to approach the center’s custodian, awkwardly asking if he’d seen anyone with bright yellow headphones.

“Yellow headphones?” a voice behind him piped up, catching Beomgyu off guard. “You mean this girl, right?”

Beomgyu turned to find a tall, sharp-featured guy holding out his phone, displaying a picture of you.

Immediately, Beomgyu’s stomach twisted. He took in the guy’s confident smile, the casual air about him, and the way he spoke about you like he knew you well—too well. He didn’t like it one bit.

“Yeah, that’s her,” Beomgyu said, his voice measured. “Who are you?”

“I’m Yeonjun,” the guy said, sliding his phone back into his pocket. He extended a hand, but Beomgyu hesitated for a second before shaking it. “I’m her friend.”

Friend? Beomgyu’s eyes narrowed slightly. Yeonjun was a little too good-looking to just be a friend, wasn’t he?

“So, uh…” Beomgyu cleared his throat, trying to hide the slight edge in his voice. “Do you know where she’s been?”

Yeonjun’s expression softened, a flicker of concern crossing his face. “Yeah. Something happened a couple of weeks ago. She’s been taking some time off to deal with it. But she should be back next week.”

Beomgyu felt a wave of relief wash over him—until Yeonjun added, “She’s been doing okay, though. We’ve been texting, and I’ve checked in on her a couple of times. You know, just to make sure she’s alright.”

Beomgyu’s jaw tightened. Texting? Checking in? Was that really necessary for a “friend”? He tried to keep his expression neutral, but a pang of jealousy flared in his chest.

“Right,” Beomgyu said, forcing a small smile. “That’s good. It’s good she has…people checking in on her.”

Yeonjun tilted his head, studying Beomgyu for a moment. “Who are you, anyway?” he asked casually. “Do you…know her?”

Beomgyu froze for a split second, the question catching him off guard. He shrugged quickly, trying to play it off. “Not really. We just…take the same bus sometimes.”

“Oh,” Yeonjun said, his lips quirking up into a small, knowing smile. “I see. So you’re, what? A bus friend?”

“Something like that,” Beomgyu mumbled, suddenly feeling like an idiot. He wished he’d thought of something cooler to say, but it was too late now.

“Well,” Yeonjun said with a grin, “that’s cute. But yeah, don’t worry—she’ll be back soon. And maybe I’ll see you around too, man.”

“Yeah. See you,” Beomgyu replied, watching as Yeonjun walked away.

As soon as Yeonjun was out of sight, Beomgyu exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. He felt ridiculous. He didn’t even know your name, and yet here he was, stewing over some guy who probably wasn’t even competition.

Still, as he walked back toward the bus stop, the thought lingered: What if Yeonjun wasn’t just a friend?

—

And Yeonjun was right. You were back the following week, except you were dressed in the darkest colors Beomgyu had ever seen you wear. Your expression matched your clothing—cloudy, somber, and weighed down by something unseen. Strangely, he found it almost endearing that you seemed to dress the way you felt.

Still, it made him worry. Not that he had any right to, given that you two weren’t exactly close. But the thought lingered: What could’ve happened to make her look this upset?

When he finally gathered the courage to take the seat beside you on the bus, you didn’t even glance at him. You were completely absorbed in your thoughts, your body language practically screaming, Leave me alone.

“Life sucks, doesn’t it?” Your voice cut through his thoughts suddenly.

“Huh?” he asked, blinking in surprise.

You didn’t look at him, your gaze fixed out the window. “It sucks, doesn’t it?”

He hesitated for a moment before nodding. “It can suck,” he admitted. “But it can also be really great.”

You turned your head slightly, finally acknowledging him with a raised brow. “Oh, yeah? How’s it ‘really great,’ exactly?”

“Well,” he started, leaning back in his seat, “it’s great because… it’s unpredictable. You never know when something good might happen. Even when everything feels like it’s falling apart, sometimes the universe throws you a surprise. Like…” He paused, glancing at you meaningfully, “…sitting next to someone who’s too cute to be upset.”

The corners of your lips twitched, the faintest hint of a smile breaking through. “That’s cheesy,” you said, but there was no hiding the slight blush creeping onto your cheeks.

“Cheesy, sure, but also a fact ,” he replied with a grin. “See? You’re smiling already..”

You shook your head, laughing softly before falling quiet again. After a beat of silence, you sighed. “I’m not usually like this. I don’t like moping around. It’s just…”

Beomgyu tilted his head, waiting patiently for you to continue.

“…My parents decided to sell our old childhood home,” you admitted, your voice soft and tinged with sadness. “I had to go back and clear out all my things. It’s stupid. A first-world problem if you must, but I didn’t think it’d hit me this hard.”

He studied you for a moment, his gaze warm and understanding. “It’s not stupid,” he said gently. “It’s your childhood. It’s where you grew up, made memories, and felt safe. It’s okay to be upset about losing something that meant so much to you.”

You looked at him, your expression conflicted. “I guess. It’s just… I feel so silly. Like, there are bigger problems in the world, and here I am crying over a house.”

“It’s not just a house, though, is it?” he countered, his tone firm but kind. “It’s a piece of you. And no one gets to tell you how to feel about it, not even yourself. Your feelings are valid—every single one of them.”

Your lips parted slightly, taken aback by his sincerity. For the first time in days, you felt a weight lift off your chest.

“Thanks,” you said softly, offering him a small, genuine smile. “I didn’t realize I needed to hear that.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” he said with a wink, making you laugh despite yourself.

As the bus rolled to a stop near campus, you glanced at him and hesitated for a moment. “Hey, Beomgyu?”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe life doesn’t suck that much after all,” you said, your smile widening just a little before you stood up and stepped off the bus.

He stayed seated, watching you walk away, and couldn’t help but grin to himself. Maybe life didn’t suck that much, indeed.

Then it hit him.

How’d you know his name?

—

It had become second nature to save each other a seat on the bus. Whether it was an unspoken agreement or just something you both fell into, neither of you questioned it. For the next two weeks, your mornings began with a quiet understanding. You’d sit side by side, talking about the most mundane things—complaints about the weather, funny things you’d overheard, or random thoughts that popped into your heads.

Still, you hadn’t exchanged names, let alone numbers. It was almost absurd at this point, how you knew snippets of each other’s lives but not the most basic details. Except you did know his name—and Beomgyu was still wondering how.

Beomgyu found it funny too. But he didn’t mind. He liked your conversations, no matter how random they were.

Then one day, Beomgyu didn’t show up.

You found yourself glancing down the street more than once, your brows furrowed as you searched for any sign of his figure walking toward the stop. The bus pulled up, and you hesitated, standing on your toes to peer down the block one last time before climbing aboard.

You took your usual seat by the window, feeling a small pang of disappointment. The bus rolled forward, the rain outside picking up again and blurring the city beyond the glass. You stared at the streaks of water running down the pane, wondering where he could be.

That was when the bus jerked to a sudden stop.

You glanced toward the front, curious, only to see someone hopping up the stairs, drenched from head to toe. It took you half a second to recognize him, but when you did, you couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of you.

Beomgyu stood there, panting slightly, his hair plastered to his forehead and water dripping from his jacket. His sneakers squeaked against the floor as he caught his breath.

“You made it,” you said, grinning as he shuffled over to your seat.

“Yeah,” he replied between breaths, dropping into the seat beside you with a sheepish smile. “Barely.”

“Did you seriously chase the bus?” you asked, trying not to laugh too hard.

“Well…” He scratched the back of his neck. “I couldn’t miss it. Someone’s got to save you a seat.”

You shook your head, biting back a smile as you handed him a tissue from your bag. “It’s the other way around, is it not?”

“Maybe,” he admitted, taking the tissue to wipe his face.

As the bus rolled forward again, the rain continued to pour outside, but it didn’t bother you as much anymore. Beomgyu was here, sitting beside you again, and for reasons you couldn’t quite explain, that made the day feel a whole lot brighter.

“Y’know… I still don’t know how you know my name while I don’t even know yours,” Beomgyu said, leaning back in his seat as he looked at you with curious eyes.

You grinned sheepishly, fiddling with the strap of your bag. “I… It’s stupid.”

“What’s stupid is that we’re practically best friends now, and I still don’t know your name or have your number,” he said with a pointed look.

“I like our friendship. It’s low maintenance,” you teased, biting back a smile.

“I’d like it more if I could talk to you more often instead of just on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays,” he countered, his lips quirking into a small pout.

You laughed. “But isn’t it fun this way?”

“It’s a whole amusement park,” he replied with a chuckle. “Though we’re threading off-topic—how’d you know my name?”

“Who doesn’t know your name, business boy?” you shot back, laughing softly.

“What?” His brows furrowed in confusion.

“You’re the infamous business boy on our school’s social media page. You don’t know about that?”

“Oh, I heard Soobin mention something about it a couple of times, but I don’t really check the app. I just use it to look at the lunch menu,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck.

“Well, you’re always making appearances on there. Especially from new students. ‘The dude from Econs 305 is really cute,’” you mimicked in a high-pitched voice, earning a laugh from him.

“Oh, so you’re saying you frequent the page often to find me?” he teased, leaning a little closer with a smirk.

“No! I’m just saying it pops up on my feed,” you said quickly, feeling your cheeks heat up. You looked away, embarrassed by the way he was watching you now.

“Hmm.” Beomgyu’s smirk deepened as he tapped his chin dramatically. “You’re blushing. Are you sure you don’t check it on purpose?”

“Absolutely not,” you huffed, still avoiding his gaze.

“Okay, okay,” he relented, though his grin didn’t fade. He leaned back in his seat and looked at you thoughtfully. “Still, I’m flattered. Infamous, huh? Guess I’ve got quite the reputation.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” he said with a playful shrug. Then, after a moment of silence, he tilted his head and added, “So, are you ever going to tell me your name, or are you going to keep the mystery alive?”

You hesitated, biting your lip. “I don’t know… The mystery has a certain charm, don’t you think?”

“Oh, come on,” he groaned dramatically. “Throw me a bone here.”

You laughed, finally relenting. “Fine. I’ll tell you—on one condition.”

“Anything,” he said eagerly, his eyes lighting up.

“You’re going to have to wait a little longer,” you teased, grinning at the look of mock horror on his face.

“Is this some kind of game for you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe,” you grinned, feeling a little mischievous. “But don’t worry, I’ll tell you soon enough.”

Beomgyu sighed, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

Your conversation was abruptly cut off by the bus driver’s voice over the intercom, his tone apologetic. “Sorry for the delay, folks. There’s a small flood up ahead, and we’re going to have to take a detour. We’ll be going around, so it’ll take about 20 more minutes. Please bear with us.”

You sighed, leaning back into your seat. The rain outside was relentless, tapping against the windows in a rhythm that made your eyelids heavy. Gradually, you drifted off, your head tilting toward the window. Every so often, you jerked awake, only for your head to fall back against the glass with a soft thud. Beomgyu watched you, his lips twitching as he stifled a chuckle. He shifted closer, his gaze softening. Carefully, he leaned over and gently placed your head on his shoulder.

You didn’t stir. The comfort of the moment made you relax further into him, unaware of the quiet smile on Beomgyu’s face. After a few moments, an idea sparked in his mind. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a Sharpie, the black marker feeling oddly significant in his hands. Glancing down at your arm, he softly grasped your wrist, guiding it gently. He wrote quickly, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips as he scrawled:

‘Text me, I’m trying to be your best friend on all 7 days of the week - Beomgyu’

Once he was done, he sat back, his heart racing a little as he looked at your sleeping form. Pretending like nothing had happened, he adjusted his posture and looked out the window, as if he hadn’t just written his number on your arm.

About 15 minutes later, the bus jolted as it finally approached your campus, pulling into the stop with a slight screech of the wheels. The ride was almost over, and you began to stir, your eyes fluttering open slowly. You blinked a few times, squinting in the morning light that filtered through the windows.

Beomgyu glanced over at you casually, his face neutral as you yawned, rubbing your eyes. You stretched and groggily looked around, your gaze landing on him.

“Hey,” he said, almost too nonchalantly. “We’re here. Campus, I mean.”

You nodded, still dazed from sleep. “Yeah, I guess we are.” You glanced down at your arm, and your eyes widened when you saw the writing on your skin. A small smile tugged at your lips, though you tried to hide it.

Beomgyu didn’t acknowledge your surprise, pretending to look out the window, his fingers tapping rhythmically on his bag. “Didn’t want to wake you up, but… it’s kind of hard to miss, huh?”

You rubbed your arm, trying to act casual. “Hmm, what’s this?” You raised an eyebrow, playing along.

“Nothing,” Beomgyu said, voice smooth. “Just figured it was a good time to share my number. You know, in case you need me for… any reason.” He grinned, his gaze flicking to you for a moment before he quickly looked away, feigning innocence.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, your heart fluttering a bit at his casual confidence. “Smooth, Beomgyu. Really smooth.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to make sure I’m not just a bus stop friend,” he said, a playful tone in his voice. “I’ve got big plans for us to hang out… all week long.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “You’re something else, aren’t you?”

Beomgyu only grinned, looking down at his bag as the bus doors finally opened. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

As you both stood up, gathering your things, there was a lingering sense of something unspoken between you two, the kind that felt both thrilling and comforting all at once.

—

Beomgyu glanced down at his phone again, his finger hovering over the screen, but there was still no text from you. It had been a day or two since he wrote his number on your arm, and he couldn’t help but wonder if you were just too busy or, worse, playing hard to get. The thought made his chest tighten. He didn’t like that feeling, the uncertainty, but it was all he could think about. God, he wanted you so much, but now... now he wasn’t so sure.

He sighed, shoving his phone into his pocket and heading toward the campus bus stop. His mind kept replaying the moment he'd written his number on your arm, hoping you’d text him. He should’ve just asked for your number, but for some reason, he’d held back. What was wrong with him?

And then, as if on cue, he saw you standing there. His heart skipped a beat. You were just as he remembered—yellow headphones hanging around your neck. But there was something different this time. Something he hadn’t expected.

Someone was with you.

Beomgyu stopped dead in his tracks, his breath catching in his throat. Yeonjun. Of course, it had to be him. The guy was tall, confident, and... his arm was around you. Beomgyu's stomach twisted, the jealousy creeping up on him. He wasn’t the type to feel this way, but seeing the two of you together felt like a punch to the gut.

He told himself it wasn’t a big deal. That you’d never given him any indication you liked him in the first place. You were beautiful, funny, smart—of course, you’d be taken. He shouldn’t even be surprised, but damn it, it stung more than he expected.

Beomgyu glanced away, his feet itching to leave. Maybe it was better not to make a fool of himself.

Just as he was about to walk off, a loud voice rang through the air. "Beomgyu!"

He turned, and there you were—waving at him, smiling that infectious smile of yours. His heart fluttered. You looked so happy to see him. For a brief moment, the jealousy melted away, and all he could do was return your smile.

"Beomgyu, right?" Yeonjun said, raising an eyebrow. He grinned, the kind of smile that made Beomgyu want to roll his eyes. "I remember you. You’re the one who asked me where she was when she disappeared for two weeks."

Beomgyu’s face flushed instantly. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to vanish into the ground or laugh it off. "No, no. That’s not me," he muttered, shaking his head quickly, trying to downplay the awkwardness of the moment.

Yeonjun raised an eyebrow. "No, I remember. It was you. I mean, you're the Business Boy, aren’t you?" He smirked, clearly amused. "I was a little surprised you were asking about this idiot here."

You shoved Yeonjun lightly, but Beomgyu could see the playful affection in your eyes. And in that moment, his heart sank. So this was it. You and Yeonjun. He had hoped he was wrong, but now he could see it clearly. You were a couple.

"You asked about me?" You tilted your head slightly, your eyes catching his.

Beomgyu’s cheeks flushed pink. "I mean, you were gone for so long, so I was just... wondering where you went."

"You came all the way to the arts center just to ask about me?" Your voice was light, teasing, and for some reason, it made his heart race.

Beomgyu quickly waved his hand, his face growing even warmer. "It’s not like that," he said, trying to downplay it. "I was just curious, that’s all."

But before he could say anything more, you grinned, eyes sparkling. "That’s so sweet!" You suddenly rushed over to Beomgyu’s arm, linking it with yours, much to his surprise.

He froze for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden closeness. He wasn’t sure whether to pull away or enjoy the moment. His heart thudded in his chest as you looked up at him with a playful smile.

"Okay, okay," Yeonjun chimed in, his voice teasing. "I get it, you two have some weird little connection, but we have to get going. I’ll let you two catch up later." He gave Beomgyu a knowing look before nudging you gently, a playful grin still on his face.

You looked a little embarrassed, but you didn’t let go of Beomgyu’s arm. "Sorry, I just... haven’t seen you in a while, Beomgyu," you said, your voice quieter now, your gaze softening. "It’s nice to know you cared enough to ask about me."

“It’s only been two days,” Beomgyu thought bitterly, but didn’t say aloud. He couldn’t help the twinge of disappointment that surfaced, especially after the number exchange that had been left hanging.

"Also, you haven’t texted me back," you sighed dramatically. "To think you were the one who told me to text you."

Beomgyu blinked, slightly taken aback. "You did?" His voice betrayed his confusion. "I didn’t get anything from you."

"You did!" You shoved your phone in his face. "See?"

Beomgyu grabbed your phone and checked the message history. "I didn’t get anything," he said again, scrolling through, but as he looked closely, he raised an eyebrow. "Wait, you saved my number wrong. It’s an 8, not a 6."

You stared at the screen in disbelief. "It’s a 6. I’m sure of it. Hold on, I even took a picture of it! See!" You quickly opened your gallery and shoved the phone at him again, showing him the snapshot of the contact info.

Beomgyu frowned, shaking his head. "No, that's definitely an 8," he said with a laugh, trying to hide his amusement at your determination.

"You have terrible handwriting!" you retorted, hands on your hips.

"No, I don’t!" Beomgyu shot back, now laughing. "You just have terrible comprehension skills!"

The two of you continued to bicker, your playful banter creating an almost natural rhythm. Yeonjun, standing beside you, cleared his throat loudly, interrupting the back-and-forth.

"Love, we really have to go," he said, his tone flat and a bit impatient, but still affectionate.

You blinked, suddenly realizing the time. "Oh, right! Sorry, I got carried away." Then, turning to Beomgyu with a bright smile, you said, "I’ll text you tonight, Beomgyu!"

Beomgyu, still processing the sudden turn of events, gave you a nod, though his chest felt oddly tight. "Alright," he said, his voice soft. "I’ll be waiting."

With that, you waved one last time and walked away with Yeonjun, leaving Beomgyu standing there, staring after you. He couldn’t help but wonder if the playful banter had meant something more—if maybe there was more between you two than just casual friendship. But until he heard from you, he could only hope.

—

Beomgyu laid in bed, his mind racing. Strangely, it wasn’t you that occupied his thoughts now—it was Yeonjun. Who was he, really? He wasn’t one to stalk someone’s Instagram, but tonight, he found himself doing just that. Scrolling through endless dance videos, selfies, and posts, he finally stumbled upon a highlight reel with a familiar yellow color—your yellow headphones.

Without thinking, his fingers tapped the screen, and video after video started playing. There you were, laughing, giggling, screaming, clearly having fun with Yeonjun. The two of you were obviously close—closer than he had imagined. His chest tightened as he watched, feeling a knot form in his stomach. He didn’t know how to feel. Jealous? That seemed silly, especially since you had never shown any signs of liking him back. His crush on you felt like a one-sided affair, and if anything, this just confirmed it.

Beomgyu chuckled to himself, still feeling that flutter in his chest. He quickly typed another response.

He sighed, shifting uncomfortably under the covers. Time to move on, he told himself. It was just a silly crush, and he had no right to keep dwelling on it. You were probably just being nice, and Yeonjun was clearly in the picture. Beomgyu had no business lingering on something that wasn’t even real.

Just as he was about to close the app, a notification popped up on his screen.

Yellow Headphones: Beomgyu!

His heart skipped a beat, and a rush of warmth spread across his chest. So much for moving on, he thought again, his thumb hovering over the message. He hesitated for a second before responding.

Beomgyu: Yellow headphones~ Yellow Headphones: Is that my new nickname? Beomgyu: Well, depends, it’s either that or bus girl and that doesn’t really have a ring to it. Yellow Headphones: I suppose. Anyway, whatchu doing? ^^

Well, Beomgyu couldn’t tell the truth, now could he? Stalking your potential boyfriend sounded really stupid.

Beomgyu: Just using my phone. You? Yellow Headphones: With Yeonjun right now. He’s been stressed over his dance recital and I’ve been helping him with it, but he’s still feeling all over the place. Beomgyu: Oh. You and him seem really close. Yellow Headphones: Of course! We’ve been friends since we were 10 ^^ we’re practically brother and sister. Beomgyu: Oh! You two aren’t dating? Yellow Headphones: God no, ew… besides, he has a girlfriend, and he is not my type.

Beomgyu’s eyes widened as he read that. Not my type—those words felt like a weight lifting off his chest. The knot in his stomach loosened, and he felt an unexpected surge of hope.

Beomgyu: Oh!

Beomgyu smiled—actually, he beamed. His excitement made him jump out of bed, letting out a quiet scream of joy, before realizing he was making too much noise.

“BEOMGYU, SHUT UP, I’M TRYING TO FUCKING SLEEP!” Soobin yelled from across the hall.

Beomgyu winced, sheepishly holding his phone closer to his chest. "Fuck, sorry!" he whispered, grinning to himself. He had a reason to be happy tonight, and that was enough for now. He quickly typed another message, eager to keep the conversation going.

Beomgyu: Haha, my bad. Yellow Headphones: Haha, it’s okay! Anyway, do you have any plans for tomorrow?

Beomgyu hesitated for a second, heart thumping. Was this really happening?

Yellow Headphones: Maybe we can hang out? I’d love to take this friendship out of the bus.

Beomgyu grinned wider, practically bouncing on his bed.

Beomgyu: I’ll see you at our usual bus stop at 3 then? Yellow Headphones: Sure!

—-

Beomgyu had been waiting at the bus stop for 10 minutes, it wasn’t that you were late, he was just really early, his excitement bubbling up as he checked his phone for the time again. He was nervous, but in a good way. Today was the day. The day he was meeting you outside of the usual school routine, just the two of you. And from the messages he'd gotten earlier, it was clear you were as excited as he was.

Then, as if on cue, he saw you.

You appeared in the distance, looking like a burst of sunshine in a bright yellow dress. Your hair was styled in a half ponytail, held up by a cute bow, making the whole look even more playful. Beomgyu felt his heart race as he took you in. Adorable. He couldn’t even put it into words, but his grin stretched from ear to ear. He had to force himself to stop from gushing about how cute you looked, biting his lip to keep himself from saying it out loud. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to—he just didn’t want to seem too eager.

You skipped over to him, a playful energy radiating from you, and nudged his arm. "There you are," you giggled, poking his sides, making him flinch in surprise but laugh all the same.

"You look great!" you added, eyes twinkling as you looked him up and down.

Beomgyu’s heart fluttered at the compliment. He’d styled his hair with a bit of gel, making it tousled in that effortlessly cool way. He’d chosen a simple, casual dress shirt and slacks—nothing fancy, but enough to look presentable. Enough to say, yeah, I look good. Because, well, he was Beomgyu, and he always did.

“Do I look any different from how I dress on campus?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow, trying to play it cool, though his smile betrayed his excitement.

You chuckled, crossing your arms in front of you as you assessed him. “Well, yeah. You only wear hoodies to school.”

Beomgyu couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m a hoodie guy, what can I say?”

“You’re a hoodie guy with potential,” you teased, poking his side again.

His grin widened. “Guess I’ve got to wear more than just hoodies around you then, huh?”

You shrugged playfully. “Maybe.”

Beomgyu chuckled, feeling a strange warmth spreading through him. This was nice. Really nice. He found himself staring at you, the way you carried yourself with such ease and confidence, making it impossible not to smile. He was genuinely looking forward to this.

“So, uh, what’s the plan?” he asked, wanting to make sure he didn’t come off as awkward, though he was fighting back the urge to let the conversation tumble into something that would sound way too cheesy.

“Well, I thought we could grab coffee first,” you suggested, grinning mischievously. “Then maybe take a walk around the park or something. Just… relax.”

“That sounds perfect,” Beomgyu replied, his voice a little softer than usual, but full of sincerity. He was definitely not about to complain about spending time with you.

You both fell into an easy conversation as you waited for the bus, and Beomgyu couldn’t help but steal glances at you when you weren’t looking, his heart racing in a way he wasn’t used to. Being around you felt different. He’d always been around people, but this—this felt like something he couldn’t quite put into words.

It didn’t matter, though. Today was the start of something, and he was finally okay with the fact that he was feeling it.

—

Beomgyu felt his palms starting to sweat as he sat across from you at the coffee shop. He had no idea what had gotten into him, but suddenly he was nervous. Really nervous. His usual confident demeanor was nowhere to be found, replaced by a strange fluttering in his chest. Every time you laughed, he felt a little spark, and when you looked at him with that warm smile, it was like his heart skipped a beat. It was all so much more than he had anticipated.

You were saying something about how cute the coffee shop was, but Beomgyu was only half listening. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from you—how effortlessly you moved, how you interacted with the people around you, your kindness radiating in everything you did. You said thank you to the barista, smiled at a little kid passing by, and his heart couldn’t help but swell. You were starting to feel a little too perfect, and it was making him swoon.

“So,” you said with a smile, taking a sip of your coffee, “this is a pretty cute first date, isn’t it?”

Beomgyu nearly choked on his drink. “Date? This is a date?” he blurted out, wide-eyed. His heart leaped into his throat as soon as the words left his mouth. He hadn’t even thought about it that way.

You looked up at him, your cheeks instantly turning pink. “This isn’t a date? Oh… I just assumed… this is really embarrassing,” you said, your voice trailing off as you awkwardly shifted in your seat.

Beomgyu felt a wave of panic wash over him. His brain short-circuited, and for a moment, he didn’t know what to say. He’d been so wrapped up in the idea of spending time with you that he hadn’t even considered the possibility of this being a date—and now you were embarrassed, and he didn’t know how to fix it.

"I—I'm sorry, I didn’t—" You sputtered, your words tumbling out in a mix of embarrassment. Then, in a flustered panic, you stood up and accidentally knocked over a glass of water onto your dress. "Oh my god!" you exclaimed, your face flushing in mortification.

Beomgyu’s heart dropped. “No! This can be a—” He rushed to stand up but hesitated, unsure of what to say to make things better.

You started to gather your things, clearly upset. “You don’t have to pity me, Beomgyu. I’ve been in this situation before,” you muttered, looking away and clutching your things tightly. “I’ll just—”

"No, you don’t get it!" Beomgyu almost shouted, his voice a little more desperate than he intended. "I don’t—it's not like that. I didn’t—this can definitely be a date if you want it to be," he stammered, feeling the heat rise to his face.

You froze, your hand still gripping your bag, and turned back to look at him. The nervousness in your eyes faded slightly, replaced by a hesitant curiosity. “Really?” you asked softly, as though unsure if you should believe him. “Because you don’t have to lie—”

“I’m not,” Beomgyu replied quickly, his voice more certain now. “I’ve had the biggest crush on you. Ever since you took the bus in those big, bright yellow headphones.”

“Oh,” you whispered, your eyes widening slightly. For a moment, everything was silent except for the chatter from everyone else in the coffee shop.

Beomgyu scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, unsure of how to continue. His heart was pounding in his chest, but he couldn't look away from you. “I know this probably isn’t how we both pictured this would happen,” he admitted, his voice softening.

This time, it was you who fell silent. You didn’t know what to say, so you just stood there, frozen in place. Then your eyes flickered downward. You realized your dress was wet, a small stream of water dripping down your leg.

“Right, my dress,” you mumbled, suddenly panicked.

“Here,” Beomgyu said quickly, handing you a napkin.

“Thanks,” you replied, your voice small as you dabbed at the wet fabric.

There was a brief moment of awkward silence, the realization of what had just been said still hanging in the air. So, you both clearly had feelings for each other, but neither of you seemed to know what to do with them.

“So, uh…” You both spoke at the same time, your words overlapping, before you both chuckled nervously.

“Yeah, uh…” Beomgyu trailed off, his hands shifting uncomfortably in his lap. “This is… a lot.”

“Yeah, a little,” you agreed, your voice tinged with a mixture of laughter and embarrassment.

For a moment, neither of you spoke again. The noise around you, the clinking of coffee cups and low hum of conversations, seemed to fill the space between you, making it feel both cozy and utterly awkward at the same time.

Beomgyu was the first to break the silence, his voice quiet but sincere. “I really like you, you know?”

You smiled at him, your heart fluttering. “I like you too, Beomgyu. I really do.”

He looked at you, his eyes soft and a little shy now, but there was something else there too—hope. “Before we, I guess… become a couple…” He cringed, and you couldn’t help but laugh at how endearing he was. “I’d love to take you out on a few dates first. I’d really like to get to know you better.”

You grinned. “You’re almost too perfect, I fear.”

Beomgyu smirked playfully. “I was thinking the same thing.”

You laughed again, the sound light and easy between the two of you. It felt good—comfortable, even—and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt so at ease with someone.

—

Two years had passed since that awkward coffee shop moment, and here they were again, at the same bus stop where it all began. Beomgyu and you stood side by side, hand in hand, but there was a noticeable difference now—two years of laughter, moments, and quiet affection between the two of you.

“This is ridiculous!” you exclaimed, frustration clear in your voice. “Why didn’t we think of moving somewhere else? Why do we insist on staying in this godforsaken area?!”

Beomgyu just chuckled, squeezing your hand lightly. “Baby, c’mon, this is where our roots are. Have you forgotten? Bus buddies and all that crap?”

You shot him a playful glare, rolling your eyes. “Gyu, this is getting crazy.” You gestured towards the crowded bus, which was slowly pulling away. “It’s the third one we’ve had to miss today. We’re never going to get to work on time at this rate.”

Beomgyu shrugged nonchalantly. “We could always just skip work. You know, pretend we’re working from home?” he teased.

You playfully shoved him. “Not funny,” you said with a soft laugh, though the frustration was still there. “But seriously, this is becoming a bit much. You’ve been saying for ages that we need to get out of this neighborhood.”

He took a step closer, his thumb brushing across your knuckles. “You really wanna move out of this area?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost a little hesitant.

You turned to face him, looking up into his eyes. There was a seriousness in his expression that made your heart skip a beat. “I love the memories we’ve made here, but the buses are a nightmare. And we don’t even live that far from each other anymore…” You sighed. “I don’t know. I think I might be ready for a change. Something a bit quieter. Closer to our workplaces.”

There was a brief silence as Beomgyu let the words sink in. He stood there for a moment, his hand still in yours, before a smile spread across his face. “You know,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’ve been thinking about something too…”

You raised an eyebrow, your curiosity piqued. “What’s that?”

Beomgyu’s smile grew, his eyes glinting with excitement. “What if we, uh, moved into an apartment closer to work? Somewhere we could both call our place… together?”

Your heart skipped a beat at the suggestion. “What do you mean?” you asked, trying to hide the sudden rush of emotions.

“I mean…” he trailed off, his voice suddenly softer. “I know we’ve been living separate lives in our own places, but what if we took the next step? What if we moved in together, like a real couple? Maybe in an apartment just a few blocks away from our workplaces? We could make it our own… just us.”

Your breath caught in your throat as the gravity of his words settled over you. For a moment, you just stared at him, unsure if you’d heard him right.

But then, his hand gently cupped your cheek, and the sincerity in his gaze melted any doubt away. “What do you think? I’ve been saving up, and I thought… maybe it’s time. Time for us to be closer. To have our own space.”

Your heart was racing, your mind still trying to process everything Beomgyu had just said. You had dreamed about this moment, but hearing him actually say it out loud felt surreal. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” you whispered, the excitement bubbling up inside you.

“I am, if you say yes,” he replied, his voice full of sincerity, yet there was a hint of playfulness behind it.

You looked at him, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “Now, how could I ever say no to that face?”

Beomgyu deadpanned, “You say no to me all the time.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest. “That’s because your requests are ridiculous. We’re not having dino nuggets for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. We need some variety.”

“Mayo, ketchup, ranch,” Beomgyu replied nonchalantly, as if that was a reasonable combination.

You scrunched up your nose. “That’s gross.”

“And yet, you still kiss me,” Beomgyu said with a grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't hide the smile that tugged at your lips. “Unfortunately, I do.”

“Unfortunately?” he said, his voice dropping in pitch as he wiggled his eyebrows at you. “You didn’t seem to complain last night.”

You immediately flushed, quickly shooting a look around to make sure no one was nearby. “No bed talk in a school zone, idiot,” you shot back, trying to stay serious but failing miserably.

He grinned even wider, leaning in a little closer. “There are no kids here.”

You pointed at him accusingly. “There’s one right here,” you said, laughing despite yourself.

Beomgyu threw his hands up in mock surrender, still chuckling. “Alright, alright, I’ll behave.” But his grin never faded.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the energy between the two of you so effortless, so right. It felt like two years of inside jokes, shared moments, and quiet affection were all wrapped up in this one little exchange. You took a deep breath, squeezing his hand tighter as the bus pulled up, and just before it came to a stop, you said, “So, where’s our new apartment gonna be, huh?”

“Well…call me crazy but I’ve already been looking up on some apartments for about a few weeks now and since we’re not in a rush–we’ll be working from home today, by the way,-- and we can check out this new apartment listing I saw.”

You rolled your eyes, thinking aloud, “Hm, I don’t know. Work is kinda my only time to get rid of you.”

“Get rid of me? Baby, you need me.” He said, smugly.

“Alright fine. Is it open right now?”

“The open house ends in 30 minutes we can make it in time.” Beomgyu mumbled, glancing over to his watch.

“Fine.” You grunted.

—

The two of you made your way to the apartment Beomgyu had told you about. A laundry room, an island counter, a big enough living room to do late night acrobatics (Beomgyu does that when he’s drunk sometimes)—it almost felt too good to be true. But as you wandered through the space hand in hand, inspecting every corner, it wasn’t just good. It was perfect. The rent was within budget, and the apartment was a short walking distance from both your workplaces. It felt like everything was falling into place.

Until it wasn’t.

“No. NO!”

Both of you turned sharply toward the doorway, where Yeonjun stood with a look of pure horror on his face.

“I’m not having you two rabbits as neighbors,” he declared dramatically, crossing his arms. “I’ve already suffered enough when I stay over at Beomgyu’s place.”

“We never ask you to stay over,” Beomgyu shot back, rolling his eyes. “You choose to do it.”

Yeonjun scoffed, pointing an accusing finger at you. “It’s not my fault she runs my social media page and always posts updates late at night!”

You shrugged innocently. “Well, if we’re neighbors, we could communicate much more easily, don’t you think?”

Yeonjun narrowed his eyes. “No. Absolutely not. I can’t possibly have the world’s most annoyingly clingy couple living next door to me. It’s a nightmare scenario.”

Beomgyu sighed dramatically and stepped forward, throwing an arm around Yeonjun’s shoulders. “Yeonjunnie~,” he cooed, tilting his head and batting his eyelashes. “I love you.”

You grinned, quickly sliding to Yeonjun’s other side and clinging to his arm. “We love you~,” you added, mirroring Beomgyu’s syrupy tone.

Yeonjun looked utterly betrayed, glancing between the two of you as though you’d just sentenced him to a lifetime of torment. “I’m calling Taehyun and asking him to raise the rent,” he grumbled, attempting to shake you both off.

Beomgyu gasped, clutching his chest as if he’d been mortally wounded. “You’d betray me like this? After everything we’ve been through?”

“Everything we’ve been through? We’re only friends because this freak decided to date another freak,” Yeonjun retorted, glaring at the two of you.

“Hey!” you pouted, crossing your arms. “Don’t say that. He’s a cute little freak though, isn’t he?” you added with a grin, reaching over to pinch Beomgyu’s cheeks.

“I’m going to throw up,” Yeonjun groaned, looking genuinely pained.

“Don’t do that on my new carpet,” Beomgyu warned, straightening up and swatting your hands away.

“What do you mean, your new carpet—wait…no.” Yeonjun’s eyes widened in horror.

“Yes.” Beomgyu smirked smugly. “Hi neighbour!”

“Fuck this shit! I’m moving out,” Yeonjun declared, throwing his hands in the air and storming toward the door.

“Love you too, Yeonjunnie~,” Beomgyu called after him, laughter bubbling in his voice.

“Enjoy your new carpet,” Yeonjun shot back, slamming the door behind him.

—

Beomgyu sat cross-legged on the floor, holding a paintbrush like it was a weapon, his cheek already smeared with a streak of light blue. “Baby, stop!” he warned, narrowing his eyes at you.

“You painted my face first?!” you exclaimed, holding up your own paintbrush, dripping with pale yellow.

Before he could react, you swiped the brush across his nose, leaving behind a bright streak. Beomgyu gasped dramatically, dropping his brush to grab yours, but you jumped up and dodged, laughing.

“Come back here!” he yelled, chasing after you around the room.

You yelped, trying to escape, but he caught you around the waist and spun you around, both of you laughing so hard you could barely breathe. “Hm, I win.” he said triumphantly, dipping his finger in paint and smearing a heart on your cheek.

“Gyu!” you squealed, trying to wriggle free, but he only held you closer, grinning at his handiwork.

“Perfect,” he declared, his face close to yours now. His grin softened as he looked at you, his hand resting on your cheek. “Okay, you’re the cutest thing I’ve ever painted.”

Your laughter faded into a warm smile, your heart fluttering. “You’re such a dork,” you whispered, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips.

You looked up at him, a mischievous glint in your eyes, and dipped your hands into the blue paint. Pressing your palms gently against his lips, you smirked. “How about we make green?” you teased.

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow, dipping his fingers into the yellow paint and smearing it across your lips in retaliation. “Challenge accepted,” he said with a grin.

“We’re definitely going to get serious stomach pains from toxic paint,” you muttered, unable to hide your laugh.

He leaned in anyway, pulling you closer as his hands rested gently on your waist. His lips pressed against yours, the faint, messy blend of colors forgotten in the warmth of the kiss.

After a few more playful smears of paint and an awful lot of kisses, the two of you sat on the floor, finally taking a breather. Beomgyu pulled out a small wooden frame from one of the boxes, holding it up with a sheepish smile.

The bright yellow headphones sat perfectly preserved in the shadow box. “I thought we could hang this on the wall,” Beomgyu said softly, his voice laced with nostalgia.

You stared at it, your heart swelling with emotion. “You kept them?”

“Of course,” he murmured, his tone quieter now. “It’s cute how you gave these to me on our first anniversary, don’t you think?”

“Well, you did say the theme was memories,” you said with a small smile. “And I think meeting you is one of my favorite ones.”

“Who are you, and what have you done to my mean and sarcastic girlfriend?” Beomgyu teased, his lips twitching into a playful grin.

You rolled your eyes. “Remember how sweet you thought I was in the beginning?”

“You were sweet. For like…the first two months,” he said, feigning deep thought. “Your true colors came out right after I introduced you to Soobin.”

“Oh, trust me, I’ve been mean way before that,” you laughed. “It’s called trying to impress the cute boy I liked.”

“You should win an Oscar for that performance,” he quipped.

“Against who? You?”

“Oh, please,” he shot back with mock indignation. “I’ve never pretended. I’m 100% authentic.”

“Laid back? Remember that? You were all like maybe I am laid back.”

“I am!”

“Baby, you scream and jump around the apartment until 2 a.m. You’re a menace.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not laid back,” he said, grinning. “Just means I’m loud.”

“Very loud. You’ve been pretending to be a soft boy this entire time, haven’t you?”

“You caught me,” he admitted with a laugh, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your lips.

After a brief struggle with the frame, he finally managed to hang it up on the wall. “Tada!” he announced proudly.

The two of you stepped back to admire it, your shoulders brushing as you stood close together. Beomgyu slid an arm around your waist and kissed the top of your head. “Welcome home, baby,” he murmured, his voice warm and tender.

“Welcome home, Gyu.”

#txt fic #txt oneshot #txt x reader #txt fanfic #txt fluff #txt imagines #txt scenarios #beomgyu x reader #tomorrow x together #choi beomgyu au #choi beomgyu x reader #choi beomgyu fluff #choi beomgyu fanfic #beomgyu x you #choi beomgyu x y/n #beomgyu x y/n

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yzashaven · 1 year ago

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somonophilia with Kuni/Scara/Wanderer whatever you want to call him

Had me feeling some type of way… the butterflies the tummy coil the way I blushed THE WAY I DROOLED IM SO HHHH <33333333

꒰ —♡ fem reader︰somnophilia.dub/noncon ✰ cunnilingus/pussy eating! ✰ clit sucking ✰ mentions of both gentleness and roughness <3 ꒱

୨୧. waaahhh somno <3 suddenly got motivation to write for all three main scaras just bcs and made this in like 10 mins HELP so not proofread

꒰ general﹒taglist ꒱ @yukiitaooo @scara6 @kana-de @ciarchivez

kabukimono is the sweetest, literally. he's also very cautious not to wake you up, thrusting in and out slowly while desperately trying to keep his voice down. but how can he do that when you feel so damn good around him?

also, i'll be taking the idea from a previous fic and say that he's definitely the type to be apologizing to your sleeping self. he's guilty and thinks he's so wrong for indulging in his desires while you were trying to rest even though you already told him that it was okay :(

—♡

i hope you're a deep sleeper, 'cause scaramouche is not putting down his rough demeanor all due to the fact that you're resting. though, if he's in a good mood, he might consider going for a more gentle approach.

it doesn't really matter to him if you suddenly wake up in the middle of him fucking you, it's like a pass to hear your lewd moans which only fuel both his pride and desires more than ever. strongly gripping at your hips as he drills into you to make you whimper in your sleep, god how he loves it so much !!

—♡

there's never time for a peaceful and long rest when wanderer is horny. he absolutely loves to wake you up by eating your pussy out. you'll be resting after completing some missions and surprise, surprise! he's between your thighs.

the sensitiveness of your body immediately has you whimpering as he continues to devour you. hands wrapped around your thighs to keep you from squirming too much as his tongue lapped up your arousal eagerly. sucking on your clit and never stopping until you were a sobbing mess <3

#♡.･ signed by yza ✰°｡⋆#♡.･ dearest kuni ✰°｡⋆#genshin smut #genshin x reader #scaramouche smut #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #kabukimono smut #kabukimono x reader #kabukimono x you #kabukimono x y/n #wanderer smut #wanderer x reader #wanderer x you #wanderer x y/n #fem!reader

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starkeynation · 15 days ago

Text

Is it casual now? Part 2

Part 1

A/N: The moment you’ve been waiting for🥳 Also this might the cliche fanfic story but im a sucker for it so i hope yall do too!

It’s been two agonising weeks since you broke up with Rafe..well, not exactly broke up cause you guys were never officially “together” as he said. Those words cut deeper than you’d ever admit, and you’ve spent every day since crying into your pillow, moping around your room, replaying every moment the two of you shared. Spending all four months with him really felt like a lifetime, and he’d burrowed into your soul in a way no one else ever had. It was infuriating.

But today, you finally snaps. It’s pointless being sad over someone who never truly wanted you in the first place. So, you took Sarah’s advice and go on the blind date she has been setting up for you.

When you arrive at the brunch place, you spot a guy in a blue polo, golden-blonde hair, decent looking, sitting alone at the table. That must be him, you thought. You proceed to approach him, exchange names and settling into the awkward conversations. Honestly, you don’t even want to be here. You’re just here for Sarah and you just had to get out of your room before you go crazy.

While you’re eating, you spot someone coming in. Rafe, he’s here. He sees you immediately seating with the guy but thank god your date is not facing him, or he could see the death stare Rafe is giving. While the kook in front of you who you don’t really remember his name..Matheo? Matty? is talking about his life, you couldn’t help but keep glancing towards Rafe’s direction. The way he needs to constantly tugs down his sleeve because of his huge biceps, his smooth buzz cut that you miss running your fingers through, his sharp jawline that you used to kiss all over- it’s maddening how much you still want him.

As the brunch date ended, Matt offers to give you a ride back home since Sarah’s the one dropping you off before. When both of you reach his car, he notices that his front left tire is flat. “What the- a flat tire? This was fine earlier,” he says, his brows frown. As he open his car boot to grab the spare tire, you accidentally make eye contact with Rafe from across the parking lot. He’s looking at you with a devilish smirk. You shake your head in disbelief as Rafe enters his car and drive off, “unbelievable,” you mutter.

“What was that?” Matt asks, returning with a tire. You give him a soft smile, “oh, nothing,” you reply. At that time, you know this is Rafe’s doing but how did he even know Matt’s car, your thoughts racing.

Later, when Matt drops you home, he invites you to a party at his place tomorrow night. “Um..yeah I’ll think about it,” you say.

“Alright, text me if you change your mind,” he reply. “Oh and y/n,” he continues.

“Yeah?”

“I just wanna say i had fun today,” he says, with a big smile plaster on his face. You return the smile, “yeah me too,” you say, as you walk in to your house. Matt is nice but to be frankly honest , all you remember from today is stealing glances at Rafe.

The next evening, at the party, you are looking for a drink at Matt’s bar when all of a sudden, you heard a familiar voice coming from behind you.

“Did you enjoy your date yesterday?”

You roll your eyes knowing it’s Rafe. You turn around facing him, “it’s none of your business, but yes, i did, thanks for asking,” you give him a sarcastic smile.

Rafe’s jaw tightens, he leans closer to your ear, “yeah? Well I don’t think he’s good for you,” he whispers.

You push his shoulder away. “Says the guy who slashed out someone’s tire just cause he’s jealous. Real mature, Rafe” you say, your voice filled with sarcasm. You walk away, not letting him talk.

The night pass by, you’re dancing and flirting with your date. You could feel Rafe is staring and observing your every move. You shouldn’t be enjoying this but you couldn’t help but to make him jealous. Suddenly slow music is on and Matt reaches your hand for a slow dance. You lean your head on the side of his shoulder as he place his hands around your waist. You search for Rafe to make sure he sees this. A moment later, Matt caresses your face and leans in for a kiss. You didn’t kiss him back. The kiss feels nothing to you, it doesnt ignite a spark in you, not like when you were with Rafe. The kiss only lasted for a moment when all of a sudden, Rafe grabs Matt by the collar and punches him.

You pull Rafe away from Matt, “Rafe what the fuck,” you shout, as the music stops and the room falls silent.

“I dare you, kiss my girl again and I swear I’ll put you 6 feet under,” Rafe spits, looking at Matt’s direction, ignoring you completely.

Your blood boils. Your whole body burn with anger. You slap Rafe in front of everyone. “I’m not your fucking girl,” you say, your voice low and deep. Gasps ripple through the crowd. Rafe stares at you, stunned. His eyes mixed with anger and hurt.

You don’t even bother to stay there any longer so you help Matt to his room. “I’m really sorry Matt..Rafe’s an idiot,” you apologise as you press ice to his bruise.

“It’s okay, it’s my fault anyways. I wouldn’t mess with you if I knew you were with him,” he replies.

“Well I’m not.”

“You sure? Dont lie, I notice your attention was drawn to him all night,” Matt questions. You go silent, not sure what to reply cause he’s right, you were flirting with him just to make Rafe jealous. “It’s fine..I think I’m just gonna go to bed now. Can you drive?,” he asks. You nod and apologise to him once again before walking outside.

As you walk outside heading towards your car, you feel a hand grabs your wrist. It’s no one else other than Rafe. “Please can we talk,” he says.

You yank your arm away, “was the slap not enough? Or should I give you another one,” you say, your tone cold.

“Ok fine I deserve it..but please, just hear me out,” he replies, his voice filled with desperation.

“What’s more to talk Rafe? You made it very clear that day that we’re casual and you’re not ready for a relationship so can you go and let me be with someone who actually wants me,” you spit back.

He throw his hands to the air, “okay I know I was a jerk, I’m really sorry. God…I’m so stupid for letting you go but that day, after you left all I could think about is you and how I could make things right,” he admits. “Without you my life is literally nothing, it’s quite, but not good quite and so lonely. Please please forget everything I said, I wanna be with you. Give me a chance please.”

Your eyes are getting teary, your head is spinning, you don’t know what to believe. Your tounge is tied and you don’t know what to say.

“Y/n? Please say something..look, I’ll apologise to that guy for the tire, for the punch, I’ll do anything you say but please just give me one last chance. I miss you y/n.”

You shake your head with a tear running down your cheek, “you really hurt me Rafe..I’m sorry I can’t do this right now.” And before he could say anything, you climb into your car and drive off as fast as you can.

For three days straight, Rafe wouldn’t stop. The constant barrage of notifications—texts, calls, it makes you impossible to think. Despite your silence, he keeps begging to meet and talk, desperate for another chance. Things escalate when he shows up at your house, knocking on the door and calling your name. It’s too much. You couldn’t take it anymore.

You storm outside, determined to end this.

“You said you’d do anything for me, right?” you ask, crossing your arms.

“Yes, yes—anything,” he replies eagerly, nodding.

“Okay. Then stop texting me, stop coming here, and just..give me some space, some time.”

Rafe blinks, stunned, but after a long pause, he finally speaks up. “That’s what you really want? He asks.

“Yes that’s what I really want.”

He nods, signalling that he understands and left.

This time, he really does. There are no texts, no calls, no surprise visits. You can tell he’s really trying to prove himself so he respects your boundaries.

Monday comes, and you have to go to work at the country club. You don’t want to cause you know the chance of seeing Rafe there is high but, you can’t pass up the paycheck. As you carry a tray of drinks toward one of the tables, you spot two familiar figures seated together, Ward and Rafe.

You try to keep your distance, but their table is right across from where you have to deliver the drinks. Just as you approach, you overhear Ward’s voice.

“What happened to y/n? I haven’t seen her around lately,” Ward says casually. “She’s the first girl you’ve ever introduced to the family, and, surprisingly, I like her. You were always so happy when she was around. And I’ve noticed you’ve been a mess ever since she’s been out of sight Rafe.”

Your breath catches. The words hit you like a wave, and you nearly drop the tray. Heart racing, you hurry back to the kitchen, trying to process what you just heard. The weight of it all feels overwhelming. You decide to take a moment to clear your head, heading toward the restroom.

Just as you steps outside to return to your work, you bump into someone—hard.

“Oh, sorry,” you mutter, looking up to see Rafe.

He steps aside, about to walk away, but you stop him. “Wait.” Rafe turns, his expression guarded.

You hesitate but can’t hold back. “I didn’t mean to, but I heard what your dad said just now… Is it true? Am I really the first girl you ever brought to meet your whole family?”

Rafe’s face softens. “Yes. You are,” he admits quietly. “And you’re the only girl Wheezie’s ever like. She doesn’t even talk to anyone else.”

Your confusion deepens. “Then why did you say all those things before? I don’t understand, Rafe.”

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Because I’ve fallen for you so hard,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “All the girls I’ve been with—they were nothing. Just hookups. But you? You’re special. And I was scared. Scared that if we were together, I’d mess it all up. I’m not a boyfriend material—I screw things up. But now I realize… I’d do anything to make this work. I’ll try, for you. I’ll become the man you deserve.”

The sincerity in his voice brings tears to your eyes. Without thinking, you reach up and kiss him. His lips feel like home, and in that moment, all the doubt and frustration melt away.

Pulling back, you cup his face, looking straight into his eyes. “Rafe, I don’t care if you’re not perfect. I fell for you—the real you. If you’re a mess, then so am I. I don’t care if you ruin my life or fuck up my nights. I’ll never change my mind about you. I trust you. The Rafe I’ve spent the last four months with is nothing like what everyone else describe you. You’re loveable, caring, and would never intentionally hurt me.”

Rafe wraps his arms around you, lifting you off the ground as he kisses you again. “I miss you,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry for everything.”

“It’s okay,” you whisper, holding him close. “I missed you too.”

He sets you down, his blue eyes searching yours. “Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?”

You smile, tears threatening to spill. “I thought you’d never ask.” You giggle as he pulls you into another kiss, the world fading away around you.

A/N: i fw ruin my life so hard i had to make the ending feels like this song

#rafe cameron #drew starkey #obx #rafe fanfiction #rafe x you #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe imagine #rafe outer banks #rafe fluff #rafe angst #rafe one shot #Spotify

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soobnny · 2 years ago

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classmate au | yang jungwon

❝ i’ve retired from the student council lmao ❞

yang jungwon

where do i even begin

in the first year of highschool, he used to be THE class president

resident teacher’s pet, sits in the front, yada yada… typical good student stereotype

BUT NOW??? 😭😭😭😭

he just goes to school to be silly

don’t get me wrong like he is smart n still receives good grades

but he isn’t the 100% school jungwon from 7th grade

MOVING ON

how do you befriend yang jungwon

he’s actually a friend of a friend!

apparently, rei had met him when she was in the student council for like a year

so naturally, you eat lunch together at the canteen

he always has those cool lunchboxes and just rly GOOD food for lunch that he doesn’t share

you didn’t know what to expect from the boy when you first started eating lunch together

maybe timid??? shy??? bossy?? you don’t know bc he’s in a different section

you certainly don’t expect him to know about every single possible GOSSIP in the school

he says it in such a funny way too like

yang jungwon storytelling skills 10/10

and he laughs so hard like he will draw attention to your table bc he’s laughing so hard

but it’s valid bc the things he says sometimes are so unhinged that even YOU can’t help the loud cackles

tho you don’t rly become close friends until sports fest season

you hang around each other ++ additional friends BUT they’re always in some contest so you’re left with jungwon most of the time

“do you want to leave and go to the mall??,” you’d ask more as a joke

but he agrees

YANG JUNGWON agrees to skip sports fest to go to the mall with you im in tears

that’s how you find yourselves in a small karaoke room at the mall

he drags you to the arcade too

the original bet was loser pays for the winner’s lunch

but then u lost every game and u looked so cute pouting that jungwon suddenly changes the rules

“FINE… winner pays for the loser’s lunch”

he pretends to be so upset about it too so that you can grab his arm and shake it around to try and get his attention

he gives in obv

then he takes u to lunch at one of like ur fav places and ure like omg ??? u think it’s telepathy that he knows

BUT NO he listens to your stories during lunch time and you’ve mentioned eating here and loving it before

he even has your order down but he tries not to be too obvious about it ☹️☹️

yang jungwon listens to you even tho you’re seated a few people away from him

womp womp it rains when u decide to go back to school

you two end up running in the rain together

WELL technically at first you tried to share his umbrella but then the both of you got too flustered

so when u started to stray away from his umbrella .. he CLOSES it

he takes your hand and goes running for the school so you can take shelter from the rain

the teachers and students look at u like 🤨🤨

anyways jungwon and (name) ABSENT from sports fest

the only thing you remember the event by is bc u joined picture taking before leaving the school grounds

it’s so natural hanging out with him

nothing ever feels forced bc he’s just so goofy and silly that you never feel crazy when talking to him

ever since then !!!!! he’d sit closer to you during lunch time

then he’d start waiting for you outside your classroom just to tell you something ??

will find every excuse to talk to you

and if the teacher needs something from your room? bye he’s VOLUNTEERING just to see you for a few seconds

ofc the teachers just think typical Jungwon behavior

but no … this is typical Jungwon with a Crush behavior

ALSO picture this

his classes end earlier than yours

he will literally pass by your classroom a million times and peek through the open door to make like brief eye contact with you

sometimes .. u don’t notice him and he just admires the way you look on forward to the teacher

also pretends his class ended late so when ur class dismisses he’ll be like “oh let’s talk to the cafeteria together!”

he’s not slick abt it

WHAT DID THAT MALL TRIP DO TO HIM

why is he suddenly so down bad and willing to do everything to hear you laugh

(he starts sharing his food with you btw i know… very shocking for him who ltrly Never shares)

he finally confesses after a school event that ran longer than it should’ve

so he sprints at you and tells you he needs to tell you something bc he is going crazy

CONFESSES !!!!!!!!!

ofc who are you to reject him.

be careful when you start dating bc i firmly believe he LOVES kissing 😹

like he is obsessed and will just be kissing you all the time i’m sorry i’m pushing this agenda

tho ofc in hidden areas!!!!!!!

he doesn’t want his beloved teachers catching him who still has an image of being a teacher’s pet

soooooo like……

“come here, let me kiss you”

you even receive TEXTS as if you’re some sort of sneaky link (you’re not)

“please meet me under the stairs beside the student council office and prepare your lips 😘😘😘😘”

under the stairs, the side of the basketball court, an empty classroom … everywhere

BEHAVE yang jungwon

he’s so clingy and so smug too

has you as his lockscreen

it’s so funny bc someone would borrow his phone and your zoomed in face would just flash in his phone

talks about u to his friends all the time

“isn’t my girlfriend so pretty?,” with this smile 😊😊😊😁

lets you wear his school blazer

sometimes he even switches ur pe shirts

HE DOESNT TELL U

He just likes seeing the big fat “yang” printed on your back

STUDY DATES

he makes his kisses a reward sometimes like if you get this question right he’ll SMOOCH u

he’s honestly so good at being academic support like he knows exactly what to say bc 7th grade him was a different breed n be was so eager to please and always felt so pressured

jungwon a Veteran u guys

helps you in the subjects you’re not so good in

tbh teaches better than your teachers sometimes

like he’d stay behind in class and it’s only the two of you in the classroom and he’ll start WRITING on the whiteboard

just starts lecturing to help you for an upcoming exam

ANYWAYS

honestly just good luck to you and your poor lips

oh also your poor stomach bc he will always make you laugh

note. credits to user @.luvknow for the layout of this post! let me know what you think! please discuss these with me i’m crazy

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tokkiwrites · 3 months ago

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𝚄𝚗𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝙼𝚢 𝚂𝚔𝚒𝚗. (3)

mom's fiancé! joel miller x f! reader part one • part two

Summary: Your mom's new fiancé, Joel Miller, is the kind of man you could never shake out of your mind—rugged, rough, and embodiment of your long-buried fantasies. He's been your next-door neighbor for years, and the crush you harbored through your teenage years never really faded. Now, he's with your mom, and they're planning to get married. You should want her to be happy, but you can't ignore the tension growing between you and Joel. It's something that was never meant to happen. But as you uncover Joel's true motives for being with your mom, you realize maybe your feelings weren't one-sided after all. And maybe, despite everything, you’re the one he really wants.

tags: stepcest kind of, age gap (reader is in her mid 20s and joel in his mid 40s), forbidden romance, emotional conflict, slow burn, sexual tension, complicated family dynamics, heartbreak, Joel being an emotionally complicated bastard, ANGST, cheating, infidelity, betrayal

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ⁩ authors note 𑁯 ✿ im baaack !! this has 4.06k words, so it's pretty short. It's pretty much a setup for the last two parts. yes, just two more parts. im sorry, but as much as i love this, it needs to end :( not proofread so try and ignore any typos. also most of the parts where the past story is told its the readers inner thoughts so YES she is trying to demonize her mom to make her feel better about sleeping w joel :') Enjoy!

It had been two months since it all started—two months since you and Joel had fallen into this secret rhythm, stealing moments when your mother wasn’t looking, navigating your forbidden connection with practiced care. In the quiet, when it was just the two of you, it felt almost normal. Almost as if you were like any other couple. You were his, and he was yours—officially, if only in the shadows. But the shadows were where you lived now.

Tonight, it was just you and Joel again, the house quiet, tension building, like it always does when its just the two of you, without having spent a night together for some time. Your mom had gone out with her friends, drinking and catching up over dinner, while you waited at home, your pulse quickening the second you heard the sound of Joel’s footsteps as he came back from work. The door clicked softly as he came inside, the familiar creak of the floorboards beneath his boots sending a thrill up your spine. You didn’t need to say anything. You both knew what came next.

“Missed you, baby. my pretty girl...” Joel muttered low, his voice rougher in the quiet of the house. His fingers found your waist, pulling you close until you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. Two months of this, and yet every touch still made your heart race, still left you aching for more. like the first time. “I missed you too,” you whispered back, wrapping your arms around his neck, sinking into the kiss that followed, as if nothing else existed outside of this room. You’d grown used to this dance—the quick, stolen moments, the silent promises that passed between you without words. It wasn’t enough, not by a long shot, but it was all you had, and you weren’t willing to let it go. Joel’s hands moved down your back, fingers gripping tightly as he deepened the kiss, and before you knew it, you were back in the same space, tangled in the sheets, limbs intertwined, the room bathed in a golden glow from the bedside lamp. He made you forget the outside world, the boundaries that separated you, the reality you both lived in.

The hours ticked by, the house settling into a quiet rhythm, when suddenly, a knock echoed from the front door, startling you both. Your head laying on his chest, fingers drawing small hearts on his skin. You sat up, heart pounding, your body still humming from the way Joel fucked you mere seconds ago. Joel frowned, pulling on his jeans as he stood, moving quietly to check the door. “Who the hell…” Joel muttered under his breath, his voice low as he moved down the hallway.

You followed him, grabbing a robe as you went, trying to calm the sudden rush of panic rising in your chest. There shouldn’t be anyone at the door. Your mother wasn’t due back for hours, and you hadn’t heard any cars pull up outside. Joel cracked the door open just a sliver, and there, standing in the darkened porch, was Marjorie. Your mother’s supposed best friend, her face illuminated by the porch light, a twisted smirk curling at the edges of her lips.

Your heart sank.

“Joel,” she greeted him, her voice dripping with something that felt far too dangerous for your liking. Her eyes flicked past him, landing on you standing behind him, the color draining from your face. She didn’t need to say anything to confirm what she already knew. It was written all over her face—the satisfaction, the power she held now. Marjorie stepped closer, her smirk widening. “Well, isn’t this interesting,” she said, her voice laced with amusement. “Your mom’s out, isn’t she? And here you two are, playing house.” Joel’s jaw clenched, his fingers gripping the edge of the door tighter. “What the fuck do you want, Marjorie?” he growled, his voice low, protective. Marjorie laughed softly, stepping forward, closer to the threshold. “Relax, Joel. I’m not here to spoil the fun. Yet.” Her eyes flicked to you again, sharp and knowing, as if seeing right through you. “I just wanted to… catch up. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

You felt your stomach twist. This wasn’t just about her catching you. There was something more. You could see it in the way she looked at Joel. so bitter. Had she been following you two? has she seen anything at the wedding? it's clear she already knew.

It hit you all at once—the stories your mom had told you about their past. Marjorie and Joel. They had been together once, years ago, long before you’d ever met him. And now, here she was, standing on your doorstep, holding your secret in her hands. “I could ruin you both, you know,” Marjorie continued, her tone casual, but the threat clear in her words. “Tell your mother everything. She deserves to know, doesn’t she? But…” She paused, her eyes narrowing. “We don’t have to go down that road. Not if you do exactly what I say.” You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry. She wasn’t just going to tell your mom. She was going to use this. You could see it now, the leverage she had, the game she was about to play.

“What do you want?” Joel asked, his voice steady, but you could feel the tension radiating off him. Marjorie tilted her head, pretending to think. “Oh, nothing much. Just a little… cooperation.” She smiled, the same smile that had always made your skin crawl. “I’ll be in touch.”

And with that, she turned and walked away, leaving the two of you standing in the doorway, your secret hanging in the air like a ticking time bomb. You slammed the door shut behind her, your heart racing, your mind spinning. “What are we going to do?” you whispered, looking up at Joel, the fear clear in your voice. Joel didn’t answer right away. He just stared at the door, his jaw clenched tight, his hands still gripping the frame. After a moment, he turned to you, his expression softening, and he pulled you into his arms. “We’ll figure it out,” he murmured, his voice steady, but you could hear the worry underneath. “I’m not losing you.”

I could ruin you both, you know.

Joel’s hand was still resting on your back, his thumb brushing gently against your skin, but it wasn’t enough to calm the storm raging inside you. Marjorie knew. And now she held the keys to your entire world, dangling them just out of reach, ready to use them whenever it suited her best.

And your mom. the anger started to burn slowly, creeping in like a wave of heat under your skin. She was out with friends right now, laughing, drinking, celebrating her happiness, all the while oblivious to what was happening behind her back. With her husband. Your heart clenched at the thought of it. A marriage she didn’t even deserve.

Had she ever really deserved him?

The more you thought about it, the more it all made sense. The way your mom had paraded Joel around like some prize, showing him off to her friends— especially to Marjorie. You remembered now, how Marjorie had once had a fight with your mother, it seemed long ago, about her engagement to Joel. You remember Marjorie crying that day about how she had cared for him, how she had fallen in love with him, that what happened between them wasn't just a fling. And what did your mom do? She married him anyway. She married her best friend’s ex without a second thought. And now you were the one being threatened for it. The bitterness in your chest was growing, and you could feel it settling into something sharper, something more dangerous.

“She’s not gonna leave us alone, is she?” you finally asked, your voice quieter than you wanted it to be. You felt exposed, vulnerable. Joel sighed, his fingers tightening their hold on you, but there was no reassurance in his grip. He didn’t answer right away, and that silence said more than any words could have. He wasn’t sure either.

“I don’t know,” Joel finally muttered, running a hand through his hair, his eyes dark with the weight of it all. “But I’ll handle it. I’m not lettin’ her take this from us.”

"Were you really together, with her I meanㅡ seems like she still likes you very much.." you bite, and the man turns, looking at you with a furrowed etched into his face. "We were together like 10 years ago, for fuck's sake, sheㅡ I don't even know. I didn't know she was so close to your mom, never saw them together much..." does he feel pitty for her?

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to cling to that hope that somehow, some way, things would stay the same, and Marjorie would just disappear into the background. But you weren’t that naive. Not anymore. Not after seeing the look in Marjorie’s eyes—like she was waiting for the perfect moment to strike, to dig her claws in and rip everything apart. Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, cutting through the tense silence in the room. You jumped slightly, startled by the noise. When you picked it up, your stomach dropped.

• I hope you enjoyed tonight, sweetheart. Don’t worry. I won’t ruin your fun just yet. i care for my friends, unlike some.

it made you feel sick. She wasn’t done with you. You turned the phone toward Joel, showing him the text, and watched as his jaw tightened again, the muscle in his cheek twitching with barely restrained anger. “She’s not gonna stop, Joel." you whispered, more to yourself than to him. “She’s going to drag this out. Until she gets whatever she wants." Joel’s eyes darkened. “Not if I can help it,” he growled, voice thick with frustration. “But she’s not bluffin’. She ain't like that. We need to be careful.” The weight of his words hung heavy in the air between you. Careful. You had been careful. For two months, you had mastered the art of lying, sneaking, hiding your relationship from the world. And for what? To have it all crumble because of one bitter, jealous woman. But what did she want? What would it take for her to keep her mouth shut?

As if in answer to your question, another message buzzed through:

• It’s been lonely for me, you know, since your mom stole Joel. I think it’s only fair we share, don’t you? Maybe then I’ll keep quiet.

Your heart sank. She wasn’t even hiding it. She wanted him. She wanted Joel. She was dangling that threat over your head, practically daring you to make a choice. And for a moment, you felt nothing but cold, bitter hatred.

For her.

For your mother.

For the situation you had been pulled into.

“What does she want?” Joel asked, sensing the shift in your expression. You hesitated. Could you tell him? Could you even say it out loud? That this wasn’t just about telling your mom the truth. Marjorie was trying to take him from you in the most disgusting way possible.

You swallowed hard, the bile rising in your throat. “She wants you.” The words felt bitter on your tongue, like poison seeping through your veins. Joel’s expression hardened, anger flashing in his eyes as he pulled away, pacing the room. “That damn bitch" His voice trailed off, but you could feel the heat off of him, the barely restrained fury that rippled through his body. “She’s sick,” you said, sinking down onto the edge of the bed, your fingers gripping the sheets as you tried to steady yourself. The rage in your chest was building, mingling with the jealousy that was already there, a fire that wouldn’t stop growing. "But we're sick too for starting all of this."

Butㅡ

How had it come to this? How had your mother allowed someone like Marjorie to stay so close? She had known about their past. She had known Joel was once Marjorie’s. Best friends don’t do that. They don’t betray each other like that. But your mother had. So did she deserve all of this?

All of the resentment you had pushed down over the last few months—the jealousy, the anger—was bubbling to the surface. Your mother had always been selfish, hadn’t she? Always thinking about herself first. Sure, she acted like she cared about you, like she wanted the best for you, but it had always been her own happiness that came first. Even after the divorce, it was all about her—her search for the perfect man, her obsession with finding someone who would make her feel young and beautiful again.

And she had found him. Joel. A man who had never really been hers to begin with.

He is mine now.

The bitterness was sharper now, more pronounced. It wasn’t just about Marjorie anymore. It was about the way your mother had taken what didn’t belong to her, and now the whole thing was falling apart, crumbling around you. Maybe this was what she deserved. “I’m not letting Marjorie get what she wants,” you said, your voice firm, your mind made up. “I won’t let her touch you. She doesn’t deserve it.” Joel stopped pacing, his eyes locking on yours. “We’ll find a way outta this, baby. We’ll figure it out.”

But there was doubt in his voice. You could hear it. You could see it in the way his shoulders sagged slightly, the weight of the situation pressing down on him, on both of you. This was bigger than the two of you now. Marjorie wasn’t going to let this go, and the truth was, she had all the power. Still, you weren’t about to let her take Joel from you. Not after everything. Not when he was the only thing keeping you sane.

As the night stretched on, you lay together in silence, the darkness outside matching the heaviness in your chest. Joel’s arm was wrapped around you, but it wasn’t enough to keep the thoughts from swirling in your mind.

How long can we keep this up?

It wasn’t just Marjorie that made you feel this way—it was your mother too. The way she had always been the center of attention, the way she had stolen Joel knowingly from Marjorie. You hated her for it. And now, with Joel by your side, you realized you hated her even more for what she still didn’t know. She had done this. She had created this mess. And now, she was out with her friends, celebrating her perfect life, while you were left to pick up the pieces. She deserves this, doesn't she?

The days became an unbearable blur, each one bleeding into the next with that same dull, gnawing anxiety eating away at you. Marjorie's threat hung over you like a dark cloud, looming over every stolen glance, every whispered word exchanged between you and Joel. You couldn't escape the feeling of dread that clawed at your chest each time your phone buzzed. Every vibration rattled your nerves, setting off a wave of panic that crashed through your mind, sending your heart racing.

What if this was it? What if today was the day Marjorie made her move, the day everything fell apart?

For three agonizing days, you waited for the inevitable blow, for the moment she would pull the trigger and expose the fragile world you and Joel had built in secret. You could barely sleep, your mind racing, filled with endless scenarios, each more horrifying than the last. And through it all, Joel remained steady, his calm exterior masking the storm raging inside him. He tried to reassure you, to tell you that things would be okay, that you would figure it out together, but even he couldn't hide the worry in his eyes. Then, on the third day, the message came. It was short, sharp, and to the point, the words searing themselves into your brain as you stared at the screen in disbelief.

• Tonight. My place. Don’t keep me waiting.

Your stomach twisted into knots, a wave of nausea rising in your throat as you turned the phone toward Joel. He glanced at it, his face darkening, a deep frown etching itself into his features. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence in the room thick with tension. You could feel the dread creeping up your spine, wrapping itself around your heart like a vice, squeezing tighter and tighter with each passing second.

"She's gonna keep pushing until she gets what she wants," you whispered, your voice trembling with fear and barely-contained anger. You could feel the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them back, refusing to let them fall. Not yet. Not in front of Joel. He didn't respond immediately, his jaw tightening as he stared down at the floor, lost in thought. The lines on his face seemed deeper, etched with frustration and helplessness, and for a brief, terrifying moment, you wondered if there was anything he could do to fix this. If there was any way out.

Then, out of nowhere, the words tumbled from your lips, almost before you could stop them, a desperate attempt to break the silence, to grasp at any solution, no matter how insane.

"What if we kill her?" The question lingered in the air, absurd and reckless, and you weren't even sure why you'd said it, or what kind of response you were hoping for. But the words had left your mouth before you could pull them back. For a moment, Joel just stared at you, his brow furrowing in shock, as if he couldn't quite believe what he had just heard. His lips parted slightly, his gaze flickering with confusion, before the tension broke, and suddenly, inexplicably, he started to laugh.

It was a quiet, breathy chuckle at first, one that caught you completely off guard. "What the—what?" Joel’s voice cracked with amusement, his eyes softening as he shook his head. "Baby, what the fuck, no," he said, still chuckling as he reached out to cup your face, his rough thumb brushing gently across your cheek. You wanted to be mad at him for laughing, for finding humor in this moment of utter despair, but the sound of his voice—his warmth—made it impossible. Even in the midst of this chaos, his touch had the power to calm the storm inside you, if only for a second.

"This is no time for jokes..." you muttered, your voice cracking, though the bitterness in your words faded the moment his thumb stroked your skin again, grounding you in the present. Joel chuckled softly, pressing his forehead against yours, his laughter slowly fading as his expression turned serious again. "We ain't killin' nobody, sweetheart," he said quietly, his voice firm but gentle. "That's not how we fix this."

You exhaled a shaky breath, nodding slightly, though the frustration still gnawed at you. It wasn’t like you’d actually meant it. The suggestion had been a fleeting, desperate thought, a reflection of just how cornered you felt by Marjorie’s relentless threats. But it felt like there were no real options left, and that sense of helplessness was eating away at you, pulling you deeper into a spiral of panic. "Then what?" you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. "What do we do? Because I can't... I can't keep living like this. I can't keep looking over my shoulder, waiting for her to tear us apart. I don’t know how much longer I can take it."

Your hands were trembling, your fingers digging into the fabric of Joel's shirt as you clung to him, desperate for some sense of stability. You looked up at him, pleading silently for him to offer you some kind of solution—any solution that didn’t involve losing him. But Joel’s face softened with concern, his eyes flickering with sadness as he tilted his head slightly, as if searching for the right words.

"Let’s... let’s run away," you blurted out, the words tumbling out in a rush before you could second-guess yourself. "You said you wanted to—wanted to run away with me. You promised me, Joel. You said we could leave all of this behind, give me a baby, start over somewhere new where nobody would find us. Was that all a lie? Did you even mean any of it?" Your voice cracked, and this time you couldn't stop the tears from welling in your eyes, your chest tightening with the flood of emotions.

Joel's eyes widened, and he looked taken aback by the sudden outburst, his hands gripping your shoulders as if trying to steady you. "Shit, baby, I—" he started, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. Panic surged through you, your heart pounding in your chest as doubt clawed its way to the surface. Was this all just some fleeting fantasy for him? Something he had whispered in the heat of the moment, a promise he never intended to keep? The thought terrified you, the idea that Joel— your Joel, might not feel as deeply as you did.

"So you lied to me," you snapped, your voice rising as anger and hurt bled into every word. "You don’t love me, do you? You never meant any of it!"

Joel’s face twisted with anguish, his hands coming up to cradle your face, his voice urgent as he tried to stop the storm that was building inside you. "What? No—baby, don’t say that. I love you, I swear to God, I love you more than I can even say." He pressed his forehead against yours, his breath shaky as his fingers tightened their hold on you. "But we can't just run away from this, not yet. I want to—God, you have no idea how much I want to—but we have to fix this first. We can't leave things this way."

You swallowed hard, the tears now flowing freely down your cheeks, and Joel reached up to brush them away, his lips pressing softly against your forehead as he spoke again, his voice filled with tenderness. "I promise you, baby, after we fix this—after we figure out a way to make this right—we’ll go. We’ll run away, just like I said. We’ll find some quiet little town, far away from all of this. We'll have our own little house, just you and me... and our family. We'll make that life, I swear to you."

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his own gaze filled with determination and something softer—something that made your heart ache with longing. "You have to believe me," he whispered, his thumb brushing over your lips. "We’ll have everything, baby, but we need to be smart about this."

You blinked back the remaining tears, nodding as you tried to steady your breathing, your heart still racing but calmer now that you could see the sincerity in his eyes. "But what if we can’t fix it?" you asked, your voice small and trembling. "What if—"

"No," Joel cut you off, his voice firm but gentle. "Don’t think like that. We’re gonna fix this. I’ll make sure of it." You wanted to believe him. You wanted so badly to cling to the hope that everything would turn out okay in the end, that you and Joel would find a way to be together without the constant threat of Marjorie, or your mom. But the fear still lingered, a shadow that refused to disappear no matter how many promises Joel made.

"I need you to be strong for me, baby," Joel whispered, his hand gently cupping the back of your head, pulling you against his chest. "I need you to be my strong little girl, okay? Can you do that for me?"

His voice was soft, soothing, and you melted into his touch, nodding against his chest as the tension slowly ebbed away. "I’m your st-strong girl," you mumbled through your sniffles, your fingers gripping his shirt as you held on to him. "I love you.. so m-much.."

"I know you do, sweet thing," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "I love you too. More than you know."

taglist ⭐️ ㅡ @eviispunk @joeldjarin @whimsiwitchy @guelyury @untamedheart81

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x you #joel miller angst #pedro pascal angst

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elliesluckycharm · 1 year ago

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don't text me, ex ellie williams one shot

sinopse: you and ellie broke up due to her commitment issues and you've been non contact until she calls.

cw: lowercase intended, swearing and alcohol use and "drunk"? sex, semi public sex, not explicit if reader is fem or masc. use of nicknames like babe and my love.

wc: 2,9k

nsfw/smut: ellie bottoms. tit play (r receiving), clit stim and pinching (e receiving), fingering (e receiving), cum eating (r)... i think thats it?

a/n: okay uh im gonna kms bc this was meant for @breathinlove but alright.

you and ellie had broken up a few months ago. you have been no contact ever since, you blocked her everywhere except her number. you told her not to contact you if she didn't need anything.

but she'd called today.

you were in bed with your best friend kamala, she noticed you suddenly sitting up.

“what?” she touches your shoulder as you look at the screen. “ellie? don't pick up, y/n” she looks at the phone over your shoulder.

“i told her to only contact me if she needs anything…” you sigh, but the phone stops ringing and you bite your lip as you look at kamala, worried expression.

“hey, if she actually needs anything she'll either call again or text.” she pats your shoulder and you nod.

ellie doesn't call again, but you get a text.

«sorry about that, hope ur okay»

“um, i guess she didn't mean to call.” you roll your eyes after texting her back with a «don't worry, hope ur okay 2», which she saw and reacted with hearts.

“girl, yes she did, she let that thing ring for ages.” kamala scoffed.

“whatever kami, let's just forget about that. she's literally with cat.”

“it's insane that she broke up with you because she ‘couldn't be in a relationship’ and ‘felt trapped’ and now she's with cat.”

“i know but well, she just couldn't be in our relationship i guess.” you chuckle and hug kamala. “why are we still talking about this shit…?”

and then you drop this subject, and it was true… ellie broke up with you along those lines. she had met you at your house and held your hand, kissed your forehead before leaving. now, she has been going out with cat. you hadn't completely moved on but what's over it's over, you didn't want any messiness.

weeks pass by, you usually see ellie at college, you both curl your lips in an awkward smile. you do it out of respect but it hurts to act like you were never close.

today wasn't any different, film class and you're sat at the back. she got in late, she sat down at the front. you noticed her and followed her with your eyes but you didn't expect her to look around to the back of the class.

you lock eyes and she stares a little before turning back, you feel uneasy. class passed by and you don't interact in any way and you decide to talk to her after class.

she gets ready to leave and you run down the classes stairs to catch her.

“ellie.” you call out reaching for her shoulder but she turns around to face you before you can.

her green eyes pierce through yours, you hadn't seen those freckles from so close in months. you blink a few times in a roll.

“um… yeah? sorry i called.” her voice is raspy and she looks awkward, as if you don't know each other.

“you let the phone ring.” you mumble, her eyebrows almost touch as she looks confused.

“yes? i'm sorry.” she takes a step back as you do the same.

“so you meant to call. it wasn't a mistake?” you ask, you sound calmer.

“yeah, i did… but i know i shouldn't have, you did the right thing by not picking up.” she looks at your lips for a second before you curl them up in a sympathetic smile.

“i was going to. thought you might have needed something.” you hold your own shoulder. “you okay?”

“no, yeah… i'm okay i was just… i don't know.” she rambles awkwardly and you chuckle. “are… you okay?”

it felt weird talking to her, but she was still the same. she toyed with her fingers nervously as she always did.

“yeah, i am.” you breathed out before straightening your back. “what did you wanna say?”

“that, i've… been” she chokes on her words, you examine ber face, letting her speak. “thinking ‘bout you.” now it's your turn to internally choke.

“you don't need to tell me that.” you bite your lip as you start walking down the starts and she does the same as everyone's leaving the classroom.

she lowers her head to face her feet as she thinks of what to say but all she says is “i know.” you turn to face her after you leave the classroom.

“i'll see you” you say, she nods and leaves as you walk towards the bathroom.

your eyes water as soon as you enter the bathroom, you let out the breath you had been involuntarily holding. you decided this meant no contact was as rough as her as on you, even worse since she decided to call you at 3pm on a random saturday. but it didn't mean anything other than that, it's hard not to talk to someone you used to talk all the time and you understood that.

when you're walking to your next class you see cat running towards ellie and jesse. she kisses both of their cheeks and you wave to them, mostly jesse, who gives you a sympathetic look and waves back. cat doesn't see you until ellie raises her hand, cat waves at you then.

you and cat were neighbors during all your childhood, she was really nice, artistic, down to earth but still had a bubbly personality. you honestly liked her, which hurt.

kamala had texted you about this party next saturday at dina's, her cousin who ‘happened’ to be jesse's long term girlfriend and ellie's best friend. you, dina and kamala had been friends since the start of college and your breakup with ellie wouldn't change that.

ellie would obviously be there, so you decided to give it more than one thought. you didn't want to see her if it made you feel so small, but you couldn't stop doing what you usually do just to avoid her.

so you decided to go. you hadn't talked to dina that much about ellie to be honest, you didn't want this to become something where people had sides to take.

you and kamala go to the party a little later than supposed, the party was already crowded. you find dina and walk up to her to hug her.

“hey dina! nice party.” you hug her excitedly and she chuckles as she pats your back.

“it's a generic one, thanks though baby” she looks at you up and down as you back away. “you look good, girl.”

“you look hot, dee.” you smile wide and she gives you a gentle push towards her drink table. “go grab a drink, you too kamala!” she calls her cousin out.

kamala starts grabbing a drink but your eyes land on ellie, who was at the corner of the room. she saw you and stepped away from the wall she was leaning on.

“is ellie here with cat?” you ask dina as ellie walks up to you. dina nods no. “really?”

“yeah, they went out a few times but ellie said they were better off as friends…its been a while already” she shrugs.

“i see.” you tense up as ellie gets closer. “hey ellie.”

“what's up?” she smiles as she nodded at dina.

“nothing…” you shrug, your lower lip between your teeth and she clicks her tongue, staring you down.

“yeah umm, can we… maybe talk? i mean, i will text you?” she asks in a lower tone, you look around for nothing.

“sure, we can. what about?” dina had leave your side, and you were left alone with her and some strangers next to the wall.

“me. i miss you.” she breathes out and you squint your eyes. “i do. can we please talk?”

“didn't you feel trapped with me? in our relationship?” you scratch your forearm. she takes your hand off it and you look up at her.

“no, i felt trapped but it wasn't you who trapped me. you never limited me. i just wanted to get out a bit, try new things maybe.” you scoff and snap your hand from hers.

“you needed a break from me? to try out new things? like what…? cat?” you sound annoyed by all this now and she's quick to argue.

“no…no, y/n. i thought i did but… i still miss you alright? and cat… i thought could move on to something but i didn't”

“ellie, i'm sorry but… you can still move on. i'm… sorry it didn't work out with cat? but that has nothing to do with me.” you try to call down as she gulps and looks to the side.

“i'm sorry.” she mutters, she sounds embarrassed but she nods. “you're right. i can move on, i don't want to.”

“ellie, this is not the place for this but… yeah we can talk, i can text you.” you sigh and she nods.

“alright, text me when you can.” you nod and leave to find kamala.

you tell her about it and she says ellie is embarrassing herself and you can only say you feel bad but also annoyed by this behavior. you see ellie a few times during the party and you just smile at each other.

you definitely still love ellie, you do wish you had never broken up but it was her who did this and you didn't feel like you could get back together just like that. you'd let her say what she had to say, you respected her, but you didn't think this would end up in rekindling things.

you were dancing with kamala, a little drunk already, when you felt a little hot. you went into the kitchen to grab water. ellie was there, her hand on her forehead.

“hey…” she looks up, recognizing your shoes. she looked a little drunk herself, cheeks flushed. “are you okay?” she saw you stumble.

“yeah i'm fine actually, i have been drinking though, came for a water bottle.” you chuckle and she nods a little as she holds her own head. “who's driving you home?”

“ugh… actually… no one” she chuckles back and shoot her an worried look. “hey, don't worry i'll wait until i sober up a little, i know it was dumb but it's okay.”

“yeah… you better… drink some water maybe.” you walk up to her with another water bottle, she takes it and mumbles a ‘thank you’.

“i feel like the floor's kinda moving.” she looks up to you now.

“you're just light headed. and a lightweight.” you chuckle as you get closer to her.

“yeah right…” she laughs and looks at your lips as you get closer. “you smell nice.” she takes a huge sip out the water and grabs your hand pulling you closer, you let her.

“thank you, you look real good.” your drunken self speaks and she leans on your shoulder, you feel her breath against your neck, making your breath heavier.

“you've such pretty lips.” she mumbles as she lifts her head back up and her lips ghosts against yours. she holds you closer as you hold her arms.

your alcohol breaths fan eachother's lips and faces, you hands fall on her torso and she grabs your hips.

“i wanna kiss you.” you drop your face on the crook of her neck and you sigh. she puts her water bottle down on the marble you were both leaned against only to cup your face, making you face her again.

“you know i'll kiss you back.” and you kiss her, liquor tasting kiss as your tongue pass through her lips.

she moans when you do, holding you so close your leg ends in the middle of hers. you're now running your hand up and down her torso and hip. her arms wrapped around you.

“needed this.” she groans and your grab her hair tightly.

“i need you.” you reply, kissing her deeply. she moans again, her hand finds your thigh and she lifts it.

“have me” she whispers in your ear. she's thrusting her hips as he holds your leg up by your thigh.

you make out feverishly, kisses your neck and you start panting and she grins against your neck. you felt your panties damp.

“bathroom?” you suggest as she starts shamelessly grinding her clothed pussy on your thigh. she nods frantically mumbling ‘please's as she lets go of your thigh and grabs your hand.

she pushes your body with her own, grabbing your waist to turn you around, her crotch against your ass as she walks you to the bathroom.

“don't trip, babe.” she jokes and kisses your neck.

“make sure you don't either, my love.” you giggle and now she's next to you. you look at eachother.

her cheeks are flushed pink and you smile at her, she opens the bathroom door and you get in. she kisses you now, grabbing your ass.

“i want you so bad, y/n. please.” she kisses your neck and you push her back. “what?”

“block the door.” you kiss her as her back hits the door, her hand is running up and down your back and around your hips. “missed you so fucking much.” you nibble her neck and she moans.

“i missed you, this. i need you right now” her hands go up your shirt and she sounds needy as fuck, grinding poorly on your hips. your hands find her stomach. “it's been too fucking long.”

you can feel your clit throb as she talks to you. you suck her earlobe and she grinds even more.

“so eager…” she pinches your nipple when you tease her, you whine out and she kisses you again.

“take this off, babe.” she says, tugging your shirt and you do what she tells you to. she goes in on your tits immediately. “yeah? you like that?” she asks as she nibbles the skin before sucking your nipple.

you moan and whimper holding her hair, she only stops when she feels your fingers tugging her belt.

“let me touch you.” you ask, she quickly unlatches her belt and you unzip her pants.

“i can't do this anymore…” she tilts her head back and you give her what she wants, tugging her jeans down.

you cup her pussy over her boxers and she moans, head hitting your shoulder.

“wet and warm, huh?” you whisper and she starts kissing you again. groping your tits with one hand and the other on your back.

your fingers ghost her slit, but you start caressing her inner thigh and hips, opening her legs. she grunts and starts trying to grind her pussy on your hand, which makes you press her hips against the door.

“stay still, now, alright? i'll get to it… promise.” you mumble, enjoying her body and how eager she was.

she nods, now grabbing your ass and thighs. you kiss her cheek and tug her panties to the side

“good girl” she grunts when your fingers run over her sticky slit. she was soaked in her slick.

you tease her clit and entrance with your fingertips, she moans and tried to grind against you.

“fuck, be quick with it.” she grunts and you frown. “please.” you slide two fingers into her pussy when she pleads. she gasps and grips your hair, taking your lips in a sloppy kiss.

she grinds her clit against your hand as you thrust your fingers in and out at the perfect pace she never stopped thinking about.

“more.” she moans between kisses.

“more what?” you start rubbing her clit with your other hand. “this?” she moans and nods.

“yeah… thanks.” you chuckle as she thanks you, kissing her neck again.

you look up at her eyes closed and cheeks flushed pink, her hands moving from your back to your shoulders. you speed up as you look at her.

you get the vision you wanted, her closed eyes squint, broken pants leave her open lips… you moan at the sight and the feeling of her wet pussy clenching around your fingers and her legs shaking, threatening to close around your hand.

“oh… you feel so good ellie, fuck.” you pinch her clit and she moans louder “yeah, keep those legs open for me.”

she cries out as she nods, her pussy clenching hard when you moan seeing her cry.

“please i'm so close.” she grunts through gritted teeth. “don't stop.”

“relax, you're so tight…” her stomach tenses and she relaxes and you reach deeper. “god…” you moan.

she moans non stop and her legs shake even more as she cums all over your fingers. you fuck her slowly as she comes down from her orgasm, hand leaving her clit.

you're both panting and she holds you by your back as you take your fingers out of her pussy only to look down and see her creamy cum on your fingertips and around her entrance. your pussy throbs at the sight.

you weakly get on your knees, sucking her cum off your fingers to lick the cum on her pussy. she grips your shoulders.

“you're so good to me.” she mumbles as you get up, tugging her boxers and pants up.

#ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie tlou2 #ellie williams x you #ellie x y/n #ellie the last of us #ellie williams smut #ellie smut #modern!ellie williams #college!ellie williams #ellie x masc reader #ellie x you #ellie x fem reader #tlou #sub!ellie

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ryuzakistoe · 4 months ago

Text

Conflicted (Michael Kaiser x Fem!reader)

angst, fem!reader, arguing, and uhhh basically all angst, childhood friends, swearing

a/n: after this I honestly have no idea who to do next. I'm kinda in between Isagi again or someone else🤷‍♀️

I also got this as inspiration

BTW IM SO SORRY FOR BEING LATE

(omg I finally got it to work omg)

——

Experiencing someone you love deeply suddenly transform into a stranger can feel like the ground has fallen away beneath you. The trust you placed in them, the cherished memories, the laughter shared—all of it can vanish in an instant, leaving you grappling with an unbearable emptiness.

In the face of such devastation, some cling desperately to hope, convinced that the past can be reclaimed. They construct fragile illusions to shield themselves from the harsh truth, believing that everything will somehow return to the way it was. But these comforting lies only deepen the wounds, which lie temporarily closed, waiting to reopen with even more agony.

How long could you endure this torment? Some carry this weight for a lifetime, while others crumble under the pressure far too soon. For you, how long will you hold on, waiting for that moment when you perhaps see him again? How long until the heaviness of his “explanation” crushes you? In the end, when the truth finally pierces through the lies you've built around your heart, how will you cope with the devastation and lies?

Thats up to you.

…🥀…

Frequent moves were a normal part of your life, given that your father, a businessman, was always busy either supporting or establishing new companies. Over time, you became accustomed to the constant change, no longer feeling as upset or frustrated about leaving behind new memories and friends.

With your mother having sadly passed away, your father was the only family you had. However, his demanding schedule often kept him away, leaving you with too much free time. You would often wander aimlessly, your father always worrying since you were still so young.

One day, during one of these aimless walks, you noticed a boy around your age dressed in dusty, worn clothes, playing with an old, worn out soccer ball. You found yourself standing there, captivated, as he skillfully shifted the ball from one foot to the other. The fluid motion of his dribbling drew you in, sparking a sense of fascination.

Eventually, the boy noticed your quiet admiration.

"Can I help you, gnädige Frau?" he asked, his thick German accent coloring his voice as he stopped the ball under his foot.

Since arriving in Germany a few months ago, you had made steady progress with the language. Your father insisted you familiarize yourself with the formalities and learn a good number of words, as speaking German would be essential for getting by.

"I was just watching you play," you replied, mirroring his language and matching the casual energy in his tone.

He regarded you for a moment, as though sizing you up, before speaking again. "Do you know how to play? Fußball, meine ich," he said, his expression unreadable.

You hesitated briefly. While you were familiar with the basics and rules of football, you'd never actually played it. Your most significant experience with the sport had been attending a game with your cousin—an exciting memory, but that was as far as it went.

"I'm not sure how to play, but I understand the basics and the rules," you admitted, glancing briefly at the soccer ball.

"Only the basics, huh?" he murmured, flicking the ball up with the same foot that had held it steady. It flew in the air before dropping neatly into his arms.

The blonde boy began to walk toward you, his gaze fixed on you the entire time. Stopping just a few feet away, he asked, "What's your name?"

"Y/n L/n," you answered softly.

"Y/n L/n…" he echoed, as if testing the sound of your name on his tongue. His eyes drifted to the side, and he repeated your name again, his tone thoughtful, as though trying to commit it to memory or decipher some hidden meaning within it.

“And what's your name?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at his peculiar behavior.

The blonde boy seemed to snap out of his thoughts, his eyes meeting yours again. "Michael Kaiser," he replied.

Without warning, he tossed the ball toward you, giving you no time to react. It landed between your feet, and you glanced down at it slowly.

"Kick the ball," he instructed.

You looked back up at Kaiser, processing his words. Kick the ball? That sounded simple enough. You positioned your foot carefully, recalling how professional players did it, and swung your leg forward.

The ball rolled back to Kaiser with surprising smoothness, considering you had little experience with football.

Catching it effortlessly with his foot, Kaiser smirked. "Not bad for someone who doesn't know how to play," he remarked.

You weren’t sure if he was being genuine or just mocking you. "Thanks," you mumbled quietly, watching as he shuffled the ball between his feet.

He suddenly paused, then said something that caught you off guard. "Play with me."

You raised an eyebrow. "But I told you, I don’t really know how to play."

"I'll teach you," he responded almost instantly, his tone carrying a hint of urgency. There was a longing in his voice, and you could understand why. It had clearly been a while since he'd had anyone to play with.

Kaiser was always alone. The other kids avoided him, seeing him as an oddball because of his scruffy clothes, unkempt hair, and the bruises that covered him—marks left by his father. They treated him like an outcast, believing there was something wrong with him.

While they ignored him, Kaiser watched from a distance, wishing he could join in, longing for the kind of companionship they took for granted.

He would often imagine himself in the place of one of the other kids, letting his mind create a vivid scene of joining in and having fun. It was as if his consciousness played alongside them while his real body stayed behind, observing from a distance.

But now, he had a real chance to play with someone, no longer just imagining the experience.

Kaiser began teaching you everything he knew about football. You didn’t become an instant expert, but you quickly gained a better understanding of the sport. It started simply, with the two of you passing the ball back and forth while he explained the basics. Gradually, he introduced more advanced moves, each one more challenging than the last.

Before long, you had learned almost everything he had to teach, and Kaiser was genuinely pleased. Finally, he had someone to share the game with—a real companion, not just a daydream.

Day after day, whenever your father was busy with work, you met up with Kaiser. The two of you would play quick soccer matches, though Kaiser usually came out on top. It didn’t matter to him who won; having someone to share his favorite pastime with was all he had ever wanted as of right now.

You found yourself enjoying his company too. Since moving here, you hadn’t had anyone to talk to, spending most of your free time wandering aimlessly through unfamiliar places. Meeting Kaiser changed that. He had become an important part of your life, and you could tell that he felt the same.

The time you spent together brought you happiness, and the bond you shared grew stronger with each passing day. But then, a few years later, everything began to change.

…🥀…

Kaiser was well aware of his growing feelings for you. He wasn’t oblivious; he knew all too well the risks of letting them show. But that didn't stop them from deepening. It only made it harder to ignore.

After years of hard work, he finally secured a spot on Bastard München’s football team—a dream realized, and you had been there through it all. You were always by his side, ready to support him whenever he needed it. You were the person he could lean on, and that meant everything to him.

Over time, he came to depend on you. There were days when it felt like you were the only one who truly understood him, when he found himself seeking you out for solace. Your presence brought him a sense of calm that no one else could.

He began to rely on you.

It was inevitable, really. Being around someone as steadfast and caring as you, his feelings naturally began to shift and grow into something more.

He started to notice the way his gaze lingered on you whenever you spoke, how his cheeks would flush at the sight of your smile. He noticed how much weight your words carried with him, how the sun seemed to light up your skin in a way that drew him in. He couldn’t ignore the warmth that bloomed inside him just from seeing you.

He began to notice everything. And as much as he loved these feelings, he hated them just as much.

This was exactly what he was afraid of—this so-called "love" that threatened to unravel him. The thought of being vulnerable, of exposing that side of himself, terrified him. As his reputation as the "Emperor" grew, so did his fear of appearing weak.

His skills, his ego, and you—they had all shaped who he was and brought him to this point. He couldn’t afford to risk that. It was only natural that he didn’t want to gamble away everything he had worked for. Throwing it all away over a feeling seemed like the height of foolishness.

But was all the arguing and shared anger really worth it?

No, not at all.

…

"Y/n, is it really that hard for you to just listen to me?”

"But why…? Why now?"

The look Kaiser gave you was unfamiliar, his eyes now cold and distant. It was a side of him you had never seen before.

How did it come to this?

…

In the past few days, something had changed in him. The warmth that once lit up his face whenever he saw you had vanished, replaced by a faint scowl. The way he looked at you now—like you were just another bothersome fan—stung in a way you couldn’t understand. Sometimes he would just ignore your presence entirely, leaving you in silence.

"Y/n, I won't say it again. Please, for once, just listen and go. I don’t want to see you right now."

"But Michael! You still haven't told me why!" The desperation in your voice hung in the air, unanswered.

But It was as if Kaiser had just… snapped. Was it your endless questions? Your desperate pleas? Or maybe it was the look in your eyes each time he tried to brush you off.

"You want the truth, Y/n? Fine. Just looking at you makes me sick!"

His words hit like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless. What did he mean? Had he always felt this way? If so, for how long? Were you too much for him?

A storm of thoughts swirled in your mind, each one cutting deeper than the last, as you felt the sting of tears welling up.

"Michael… what…?" you whispered, your voice trembling and barely audible.

"You make me feel sick, Y/n. Nauseous." His tone was sharp, laced with irritation, as if the very act of saying it exhausted him.

A couple of tears managed to form in your eye sockets as you quietly murmured, “Michael…but why? Why do I make you feel like this? Was it something I did..—”

Kaiser clenched his jaw, frustration and bitterness seething beneath his words. How could you be so clueless?

“Yes, Y/N, you did do something—no, you did everything!” he burst out. “Every time you smile, I can’t look away. Your stupid hair falls just right and it’s distracting. Your annoying voice—it calms me, like some kind of spell. And your eyes, the way they look at me… I feel sick because of the warmth you put in my stomach. I hate that I look forward to your presence, that you’re all I think about, that I’ve developed these feelings for you—I hate it all!” His fists tightened, a mix of embarrassment and anger rising to his face.

Your eyes widened. Was this a confession? Were these compliments or just veiled insults? What was he trying to say?

You stared at him, speechless, before managing to whisper, “Michael… you… you have feelings for me?”

Kaiser glanced away, reluctant to admit it. But there was no denying it—this was, in its own way, almost a confession.

Mind you, Almost, a confession.

"I wish I didn’t." His voice was low, almost resigned, and you couldn't help the frown that tugged at your lips. Why would he want to bury something as powerful as this? It didn’t make sense.

"Michael… " you spoke, your voice barely a whisper. "Why would you wish these feelings away? I… I could feel the same way about you, you know…"

He shook his head slowly, as if each movement was a struggle. When he spoke, his tone was firm but tinged with something that resembled sorrow. "It doesn't matter, Y/n. Even if you do, I can't accept it. I can’t accept us."

His words hit you like a cold gust of wind. "You mean… you wouldn't be able to return my feelings?" Your chest tightened as you forced out the question, though deep down, you already knew the answer.

Michael's silence was answer enough, but still, you couldn’t let it end there. "Well," you began, the words stumbling out before you could stop them, "I guess that’s just too bad because… I really do have feelings for you." Your voice wavered slightly, betraying how hard it was to admit, but the truth had taken root too deeply to be ignored.

You had begun to realize it months ago, maybe even longer. The symptoms of love crept in slowly, almost imperceptibly at first—the way his presence made you feel more alive, the longing to hear his voice even when he wasn’t around, the flutter in your chest with every small gesture. Now, standing in front of him, all those little moments coalesced into something undeniable. Yet, here you were, offering your heart to someone who refused to hold it.

You found yourself looking forward to every visit with him, craving the moments you could be near. Even though you saw each other regularly, it never felt like enough. You often caught yourself inventing excuses just to stay a little longer, clinging to each second as if it might be your last chance to be close.

Your gaze drifted toward him, hoping to catch his eye and find some sign of understanding there. But instead of meeting your gaze, he looked away, his expression guarded.

"As I said before, Y/n, I can't," he repeated, his voice steady but distant.

Frustration surged within you, a knot tightening in your chest. Why couldn’t he just explain? Why was he so determined to keep you at arm's length? "Michael, for heaven’s sake, just tell me why!" you demanded, your voice rising with a mix of irritation and desperation. "Why can’t you? We could figure this out… it doesn’t have to be this way."

You were exhausted—tired of the same vague answer, the same unyielding response. "I can’t" wasn’t good enough anymore. You needed the truth, a real reason to justify the wall he kept building between you.

Kaiser noticed the edge in your voice, and frustration flared in his eyes as he responded, his tone sharper than before. "Because I can't risk everything I’ve worked so hard for, Y/n! I’ve fought so hard to get where I am now, and I can't afford any distractions—not even love."

Distraction?

You blinked, his words hitting you like a slap. He thought this—whatever was between you—was just a distraction?

"H-huh…?" you breathed, the word barely audible as it slipped from your lips.

Kaiser tilted his head back, a bitter sigh escaping him as his jaw clenched in obvious irritation. "Did you not understand what I just said?" His voice dripped with exasperation, as though explaining himself was an exhausting chore.

You felt your brows draw together in a scowl, his words twisting in your mind. Of course, you heard him loud and clear, but all you could focus on was how cruel and dismissive he sounded. This whole "distraction" excuse felt like nothing but bullshit—a convenient shield to hide behind, rather than an honest reason.

"Is that what I am to you?" you said, your voice quivering with anger. It seems as if this was just another excuse of his.

His answer left you both hurt and furious, a bitter mix of emotions twisting inside you. Sure, you finally got the explanation you’d been pushing for, but this? This was what he had to say?

"Love… a distraction?" you echoed, your voice strained as you struggled to keep your composure. "Michael, are you serious right now?" You could barely recognize the man standing before you; this wasn’t the Michael Kaiser you thought you knew.

"Do I look like I'm making this up, Y/n?" he shot back, his tone icy and unyielding. "I can’t let anything interfere. I've worked too hard for what I have, and I won't risk losing it all just to chase after some fantasy. I can’t afford to be blinded by ‘love.’ I can’t afford to be weak. Not now." He took a step closer, his gaze piercing into yours.

You stared into those familiar blue eyes—eyes that once looked at you with warmth and admiration. Now, they were cold and hollow, carrying only frustration and something far more unsettling: emptiness. It was like staring into the eyes of a stranger, someone who had shed any trace of the person you thought you cared for.

"I want to be the best, and I can’t do that with emotions weighing me down," he said, his tone harsh and unyielding. "I need a clear path, free from distractions. Do you even realize how much I stand to lose if I let the smallest thing pull my focus? I could lose everything. I could end up weak… and that’s something I refuse to accept."

His words felt like a cold slap, each one slicing through you. "I’ve sacrificed so much just to get where I am today. So there it is, Y/n. I won’t let these emotions derail me. Not even for you."

A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it, a silent testament to the heartbreak squeezing your chest. Was this really it? Was he just going to leave you behind because you didn’t fit into his perfect, distraction-free life? It felt like the ground had fallen out from beneath you.

"This is bullshit, Michael," you snapped, your voice shaking with anger. "You’re just going to drop me like that? After everything? After all the times I’ve been there for you, stood by your side, supported you through every step of your soccer career—this is how you repay me? Do you even realize how messed up that is?"

Your voice rose, trembling with the frustration and betrayal burning inside you. "You can’t just cut me out because I don’t fit neatly into your plans. Do you even hear yourself right now?"

Anger flared in his eyes, and his voice rose, laced with frustration. "Yes, Y/n, I’m going to leave you! Didn’t you hear a word I just said? I can’t risk everything I’ve worked for. I’ve come too far to let ‘love’ make me weak—I’ll lose it all!"

"Why can’t you see that love won’t make you weak?" you cried out, your voice cracking with desperation.

"Tch. I already told you—it’s a distraction," he shot back, his tone cold and dismissive.

Each word felt like a dagger, piercing deeper as he repeated the same relentless argument, as if mocking the very idea of you. He was unyielding, his walls built so high that nothing you said could seem to reach him.

"So that’s it, then?" you murmured, your voice trembling as tears stung your eyes. "All of it? All of this—even me—it’s just a distraction?"

For a split second, something in his expression wavered. The guilt in his eyes betrayed him as he saw the hurt etched across your face. But just as quickly, he masked it, his pride and stubbornness locking him in place. He stayed silent, his hand twitching as if he wanted to reach out but refused to let himself.

The truth was, when you first told him how you felt, a spark of joy had flickered inside him—something he hadn’t felt in a long time. But now, with every pained word that left your lips, he buried that feeling deeper, forcing it down beneath the weight of his ambition. He couldn’t afford to let you see it. He couldn’t afford to let himself feel it.

It pained him to see you like this, knowing he was the cause. He never intended to hurt you like this—never imagined he’d be the one to break your heart.

Of course, his ambitions meant more to him than his "best friend." That was the cruel truth—his future outweighed everything, even you.

The silence stretched between you until you finally broke it, your voice trembling. "Is that a yes or a no, Michael? Please… just answer me."

His gaze softened at the sight of you, your face etched with desperation and pain. He truly felt bad—guilt clawed at him—but he couldn’t let it sway him. He believed this was necessary. He believed it was for the best.

"Yes," he said quietly.

The word hit you like a blow, and your head dropped, a broken breath escaping your lips. You never thought it would come to this—never imagined this was how the two of you would part ways.

Quiet sobs began to slip from you, growing louder with each passing second as tears streamed down your cheeks. Soon, the dam broke, and you were wailing into your hands, trying in vain to wipe away the endless flow of tears. Your heart ached with a hollow emptiness that spread through your chest—the same emptiness that Michael once filled, now torn wide open.

It felt as though a piece of you had been ripped away. You and Michael had been through hell and back together, always supporting and lifting each other up. Now, there was a cold, hollow place in your heart where he used to be, a void that felt unbearable.

After a moment, you forced yourself to look up, only to see him walking away, the distance between you growing with every step.

"Michael… mein Schatz… come back… please…" you whispered, your voice breaking. "I can't do this without you…" But he was already too far to hear, your pleas swallowed up by the empty space between you.

Kaiser kept his eyes on the ground, watching his own feet carry him further away. He didn’t dare look back. "Goodbye, meine Liebe…" he murmured softly, the words escaping like a breath.

a/n: so I actually kinda took my time with this so I hope its better 😐

Also I just rewatched aot, tell me why I forgot how FINE jean was in s4🤧😫 (and Levi)

ANDDD IM ROCKING WITH BLLK S2🤤

I'm going to lick his tattoos bro

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