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kissbyoon · 20 days ago

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how do I even start? No. Where do I even start? This was so so soooo sweet and cute but rn I'm overwhelmed in my emotions and it's driving me insane. I believe you all giggled and smiled reading this, but I've been crying throughout half of the fic but it's mostly bcz of happiness. If anyone ever asks me about I feel, I'm showing this fic to them. Shingi you really are studying psychology because WHAT THE HEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLY HELL.

First of all, you absolutely DEVOURED his personality. SECOND OF ALL. ARE YOU STALKING MY HEART BECAUSE HUH????? HOLY SHIT U SAID THE WORDS I NEVER REALISED WERE HAPPENING TO ME HAHAHAHAHSHXJKDKSMDNDKEKS (I'm so def normal) omg I had so many points to write about while reading but NOW I FORGOT EVERYTHING.

He confessed in the same old school? Alright. Give Augustine the ultimate romance and fluff queen title idk. AND NAHHHHHHHH I CRIED 10X MORE BCZ OF THE LETTER LIKE ITS THE EXACT SAME ONE AND WDYM IT WAS SENT TO A WRONG ADDRESS GIRL BYE U CANT FUMBLE THAT BAD. this is the ultimate she fell first, he fell harder. prove me WRONG. And u CANT because I am RIGHT.

I can't even tell you guys that this was, is and WILL be the BEST Birthday gift E V E R. No bcz you were legit telling me how u have to speedrun this fic in under a day or so AND ITS STILL SO FCKING PERFECT LIKE I DONT LIE WHEN I CALL U SHAKESPEARE LETS BE FR OK. shingi thank you SO so SO so SOOSOSOSOSOSOSOOSOS MUCH. there's NO word in the dictionary to describe my feelings rn and I have so much more to say and give feedback on this BUT IM AT A LOSS OF WORDS. YK HOW U SAID "SPEECHLESS" HELL YEAH I AM. AND ITS NOT BCZ OF HIM RN ITS BCZ OF UUUUUUUU. UGHHH THIS WAS SO DELICIOUS.

(if u think you love 'love me back' more than me, you don't. Because I do. BECAUSE IT IT MEANT TO BE READ BY ME.)

love me back - yjh

—⁠☆ when your long forgotten middle school crush walks into your bakery on a random tuesday, your whole life spirals. to top it all, you're forced to be his pretend wife for a mere apartment.

pairing - jeonghan x f!reader

genre/warnings - non idol au, fluff, romance, angst, humor, slice of life, fake dating, one sided love, one sided pining that turns mutual, middle school classmates to strangers to lovers, best friend's cousin kinda situation, cursing, use of petnames, kissing, skinship, mentions of drinking alcohol

wc - 18K

A/N - first of all, HAPPY BIRTHDAY @kissbyoon second of all, loud celebrations bcs your girl managed to complete this in time!!! and third of all, a big thank you to @iamdkayyyyy for proofreading/editing this in such a short time! 💌

"Hello Jeonghan. I hope you're having a good time and everything's well. It took me a lot of courage to write this, read it all over again, and finally have it sent to you. This is nothing serious or something grand, but I want to say thank you for taking your time to read this. You might toss it away in the trash can after, but I hope you don't belittle whatever I'm about to write.

I like you. I have liked you since last year. It's very childish to be saying this to someone I've never interacted with (I wish we did) but I'm surprised that I'm finally saying this to you. Even if it's just through a piece of paper, it's still genuine and harmless. You'll probably laugh or roll your eyes at the way I'm writing this, but I seriously hope for nothing in return.

This isn't a confession, and I hold 0% of expectations in me. This is for me. So that I'm relieved later on that there's no more confusion or mixed signals bothering me like it's the end of the world. I already know that you don't reciprocate my feelings, and you really shouldn't anyway. You're doing well with your studies, I hope you continue to top your classes and shine amongst the other students in your way.

This is taking everything in me to say this, but thank you for making me hate Sundays or weekends and love Mondays or days when I could see you. I think you might remember the couple of times we held eye contact or you might have caught me stealing glances at you now and then.

I'm not sure about this, but my friends told you about a girl in their class having a crush on you (and it was none other than me)

I am writing this with no hopes but I do expect an answer for my clarity of mind. Thank you.”

- Y/N

A sigh of relief escapes your lips as the last customer leaves and Seokmin flips the open sign outside your cozy bakery.

You lean against the cool metal of the counter, the sweet scent of flour and sugar enveloping your senses. The evening rush had been crazy, and left you exhausted.

“Alright, Seokmin, almost there!” You call out, wiping down the counter with a practiced hand.

Seokmin is already wrestling with a string of fairy lights near the window. “Just gotta get these stars to hang right! Your friend deserves the best!”

He grins, and you can't help but smile back. He's so kind, and truly the best person you've met ever since you ended college.

It is Seri’s birthday tonight, and you haven't seen her in ages, especially due to the distance of miles stretching between you both and the responsibilities of adult life. However, she had promised she'd celebrate her twenty-third birthday with you.

You disappear into the back, pulling out a small, perfectly frosted strawberry shortcake from the chilled display. It is Seri’s favorite, and you’ve baked it especially for her. You hum a little tune as you carefully place a ‘Happy Birthday’ topper on it, the vibrant red of the strawberries popping against the white cream.

When you return to the front, Seokmin has strung the lights across the bakery, casting a soft, warm glow. He is now fumbling with a handful of balloons. “Thank you, Seokmin. This looks perfect. Just a few more minutes until she gets here.”

Just as you are about to grab a balloon yourself, the little bell above the door jingles. You look up, expecting Seri, and panicking that she's here even before you're done with the decor.

“Oh my goodness, there's no way you're here alr—” Your words get stuck in your throat, forming a hard lump. It feels like a stone, lodged right in the center of your windpipe, making it impossible to breathe.

There's no way you're not hallucinating.

A tall figure steps in, head bent, eyes glued to his phone. He doesn't look up, doesn’t acknowledge you or Seokmin. He just walks inside, making himself a quiet presence as he stops by one of the tables, completely absorbed in his screen.

Your heart, which had been beating with happy anticipation, suddenly feels still, like everything around you has frozen. The soft hum of the refrigerator, the gentle pop of a balloon Seokmin is trying to inflate, even the cheerful glow of the fairy lights—it all fades into the background.

Seven years.

It has been seven years since you last saw Yoon Jeonghan. Your unrequited love for most of your life.

He is older now, of course, and much more handsome. More manly with his hair styled to fall on his forehead. The line of his jaw is sharper, yet his long lashes are just the same.

It is undeniably him.

The boy from middle school, your friend's cousin, the one you’d poured your heart out to in a letter he never answered. He is here, in your bakery, and he hasn't even looked up.

Then, the door opens wide and a happy, familiar voice echoes around the space. “Surprise! Did you miss me?”

It is Seri, her arms wide for a hug. But your excitement, the one that had been bubbling inside you all day, is gone. It had vanished the moment Jeonghan had walked in, silent and oblivious, leaving you to second-guess every emotion you'd stuffed far away in your heart.

Fuck fuck fuck.

You lean against the sink, staring at your reflection. Your cheeks are flushed, and your eyes look dull. That lump in your throat is still there, throbbing with every beat of your heart. You don’t know what you’re supposed to feel about this whole situation. You'd taken a long time to get him off your mind, to forget the fact that he practically ignored your letter that you sent all those years ago. Sure, it was an age of immaturity, but your feelings were as real as your existence. You'd purposefully pushed those feelings down to an untouched corner of your heart, but seeing him now brought everything back in the blink of an eye.

You splash cold water on your face, hoping to wash away the sudden bitterness that has replaced your excitement. Get it together, you tell yourself. It is Seri’s birthday. She deserves your full attention and your genuine happiness. You take a few shaky breaths, trying to push Jeonghan’s presence to the very back of your mind.

When you finally emerge, faking a smile that feels a little too tight, Seri is already pulling Jeonghan towards the small table you’d set up. As you get closer, Seri meets your eyes, and her smile falters just a touch. She pulls you into a quick, tight hug. "I'm so sorry," she whispers into your ear in a low voice. "I'll explain everything. Just trust me, okay?"

She squeezes your hand, her eyes pleading, before pulling back with a bright, "Alright, birthday girl needs cake!"

The small birthday celebration unfolds like a dream you are watching from a distance. Seokmin, bless his heart, starts singing 'Happy Birthday' with gusto, and you join in, your voice a little wobbly at first. The fairy lights twinkle, warming Seri's beaming face as she makes a wish before blowing out the single candle on her strawberry shortcake.

Jeonghan stays relatively quiet, as if he's hardly even here. He doesn't offer much to the conversation, his phone still seeming to hold more of his attention than the small party. But whenever Seri turns to him, asking him a question or nudging him for a laugh, he would respond with a soft, almost warm smile gracing his lips every time.

You watch it all, your throat occasionally constricting whenever your eyes so much as glance at Jeonghan.

Jeonghan—who has re-entered your life out of the blue and is making your heart spin in a painful dance.

The cake is mostly gone, and you are picking at a plate of cookies you’d baked that morning. Seokmin left a while ago, saying his mother was waiting for him, leaving the three of you in the warm glow of your bakery.

Jeonghan is, predictably, back on his phone, his thumb swiping across the screen. You kick Seri under the table, not trying to be gentle at all.

She looks at you with a mischievous glint in her eyes, and you raise an eyebrow in a silent question. What is going on?

Seri bites her lip, trying not to laugh, then quickly clears her throat, pulling Jeonghan’s attention away from his device.

“Jeonghannie,” Seri begins, her voice a little too loud in the sudden silence. He looks up questioningly. “Y/N here could be your wife you know?”

You all but choke on the snickerdoodle you were biting on, a violent cough ripping through you. Your face flushes a furious red, your eyes watering. Wife?

Jeonghan, for the first time, actually looks up from his phone, his expression shifting from absorbed to mildly concerned. He slides a glass of water across the table towards you. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice sounding almost like a murmur. It's the first time he's directly acknowledged you since he walked in, and it's for something so incredibly embarrassing.

You nod weakly, still sputtering, grabbing the water and gulping it down. To say that your body is on fire would be an understatement.

Seri, meanwhile, looks entirely too pleased with herself. “Look, do you remember her? She's Y/N! She was in my class in middle school.”

“I remember her,” Jeonghan says, and you feel your heart lurch up to your throat. It's like you are being pricked by countless needles as you stare at him in disbelief. He recognises you?

Seri beams, nudging you under the table as if to say What a chance, my girl.

“That's good! Do you remember she used to take acting classes?”

What the fuck? You never took acting classes. Your eyes travel to her face again, avoiding Jeonghan's gaze when it falls on you. You're not sure what to say in such a hideous situation.

“I don't remember that,” Jeonghan mutters plainly. Seri sighs, keeping a hand on yours. You make an effort to shove it away, wanting to yell at her for attempting to plan your demise so casually, but her hold only tightens. “That's alright. You might not remember, but those classes have made Y/N an excellent actor. Hence, she's the perfect choice!”

You fail to keep your voice low, pulling your hand away from hers harshly. “Yoon Seri! What are you talking about?!”

She turns to you, sighing like she had been expecting this outburst. Though a mischievous glint still dances in her eyes. “Okay, calm down. It’s not what you think. Jeonghan just moved to Seoul, right? And he found this amazing apartment, exactly what he wants—super quiet, great location, perfect for him to focus on work.” She pauses, taking a deep breath, and morphing her face in an expression that's almost telling you of her plan. Except, you fail to catch any hints.

“But the landlord is totally old-school. She told him she doesn't rent to single men. She only wants married couples in her building, or at least, long-term, stable pairs. It’s ridiculous, I know! But he’s so frustrated because it’s the only place he likes, and he needs somewhere stable to live while he settles in.”

Oh, no.

You don't like where this is going. You stare in bewilderment, looking between Seri and Jeonghan. He is back to quietly observing, though he still doesn't pick up his phone. He seems to be taking it all in with a nonchalant air, like this wild plan isn't even about him.

“So,” Seri continues, leaning a little forward, “I told him, why don’t you just pretend you’re married? Just for the landlord, just until you sign the lease! He looks like he’s about to lose his mind over it, so we need to help him out. It’s the only way he’s going to get this place.” She turns to Jeonghan. “Right, Jeonghan?”

He offers a small, almost involuntary nod.

In your head, you calculate the distance from your bakery to the nearest graveyard. Because frankly, digging up a grave and burying yourself inside seems like a better option than whatever hell Seri is throwing your way.

You throw your hands up in exasperation, opening your mouth to say something, anything, but what comes out are a few incoherent, broken words.

Jeonghan finally looks at you directly, his eyes sharp and steady. “Listen, it’s Seri’s idea,” he says in a calm voice. “I just… I really like the apartment. And she thinks this is the quickest way to get it. You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. It’s just… for show, for the landlord.” He shrugs slightly. “No pressure.”

His composure, even while Seri is trying to marry him off, is almost comical. He’s so polite, so detached, as if he’s asking if you want sugar with your coffee, not if you’ll be his fake wife.

You stare at him for far too long, trying to take in his words. The whole situation is absurd, and you don't blame yourself for zoning out like this. Only when you hear Jeonghan clear his throat as a result of your direct staring, you come back to your senses. Your cheeks are tinged pink, and you sigh, glaring at your overly smiley friend. She's insane.

“I'll think about it,” you mutter, looking at Jeonghan instead of Seri. You don't want to talk to her for at least a week. She hoots briefly, making you glare at her again. For a second, Jeonghan looks like he wants to say something, but he resorts to sighing and telling Seri that they should leave.

You spend your whole night shifting between sobbing and cursing your friend out.

The smell of yeast and warm butter fills the bakery, comforting the mess in your head only a little. You punch down a large ball of dough with more force than necessary, venting your frustrations to your friend, Eunha, who is meticulously arranging chocolate chips on a tray of cookies.

“I just can’t believe he’s back, Eunha,” you rant, flour dusting your apron. “It’s been seven years! And then he just waltzes in, looking exactly the same, acting like nothing ever happened. Like I didn’t pour my teenage heart out in a letter that he clearly threw in the trash! And he remembers me?!”

For months, you had remembered the letter, the emotions you'd bared, the long, agonizing wait for an answer that never came. It's confusing, and extremely heartbreaking to think that he never cared much to even acknowledge your feelings. And he is back, aware of who you are, but still uncaring of your stupid feelings.

Eunha hums, picking up a rogue chocolate chip. She makes fewer comments while you're talking, only listening to you let it all out. “And then Seri, oh my god, Seri!” You throw your hands up, getting flour everywhere. “She’s a menace! First, she springs him on me, then she tries to marry me off to him for an apartment!” You recount the full story, including Seri’s confession about Jeonghan's strict landlord and her wild idea of a fake marriage. “When I called her afterwards, she was all, ‘But you’re not over him! This is your chance!’ Like it’s some kind of rom-com! It’s ridiculous, Eunha. I don’t even know what to feel. My heart’s a mess, and my brain is just… freezing. I don't know how to take this all in.”

Eunha bites her lip, trying to suppress a smile as she comes behind you and begins massaging your shoulders in an effort to relax you. “She’s trying to help, in her way. She wants you to be happy.”

“But I get it. It’s a lot. And you haven’t exactly been planning your future with Jeonghan have you?”

You knead the dough vigorously. “Exactly! I’ve built this bakery, this life, and I pushed him into a tiny, dusty corner of my memory. Now he’s back, and it’s like everything’s flipped upside down.”

Eunha pouts, opening her mouth to offer some more words of comfort when the little bell above the door jingles. You freeze, heart leaping into your throat as your eyes witness Jeonghan stepping inside. He spots you and Eunha, and a polite, almost sheepish expression crosses his face. “Hey,” he greets, his voice soft as usual, “Seri told me to pick something up from here. A bracelet or something? She said you'd know.”

You stare at him, taking a second to process what he's said. “A bracelet?”

Eunha seems to be having fun, you can tell by her suppressed laughter, as she gives you a quick, encouraging pat on the back.

“Yeah, she said she left it here,” Jeonghan says, shrugging his shoulders. You sigh, already looking around the counter to look for the said bracelet. You don't remember finding any, and a part of you knows that this might be one of Seri’s games.

“Just a second. I’ll call her.” You mutter, looking at Jeonghan briefly before sidling away to dial her. Meanwhile, Eunha awkwardly greets Jeonghan because standing there is a little awkward.

“Seri! What did you tell Jeonghan to pick up from here?” You hiss into the phone, trying to keep your voice down.

Seri’s voice crackles through the phone, sounding sheepish. “Oh! Right! My bad! I thought I left my bracelet there when we were cleaning up last night, but I just found it in my room. Tell him he doesn’t need to get it anymore.”

You stare at the phone, then at Jeonghan, who is patiently waiting and seemingly unbothered. You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying not to pull at your hair. “She found it. It was in her room.”

Jeonghan nods slowly, and takes a small step back, ready to leave. “Okay. Thanks.”

He turns to go, but then he hesitates. He stops, his shoulders tensing slightly, and turns back to face you. Eunha perceptively sees the shift in the air. With a reassuring squeeze of your arm, she slips out of the bakery, leaving you alone with him.

Could you die instead of being alone here with him? That sounds fairer honestly.

Jeonghan looks at you, his quiet gaze more direct this time. “About what Seri said… the apartment thing,” he begins in a low voice. “You don’t have to do it. It’s… it could be weird, I understand.” His eyes soften slightly. “It was just Seri’s crazy idea. Don’t feel pressured.”

You blink at him, letting your brain load to process his words. For a moment, you consider just nodding and letting him leave, letting the awkwardness disappear with him.

However, seeing him walk towards the door feels like a stab to your already broken heart. You imagine what will happen if he leaves your bakery now—you will never get the chance to know what it feels like to be married to your lifelong crush. He'll leave, and you'll likely see him here and there but you'll never have the chance to be close to him.

The thought sends you into a spiral, and you take a deep breath, a surprising calm settling over you.

“No, wait.” You call out, your voice louder than intended. You even manage a small, genuine smile. “I’ll do it. It’s not a big deal.”

A wave of genuine surprise crosses Jeonghan's face, followed by that rare, soft smile you'd last seen when he was a teenager. What surprises you is the fact that it still twists your heart the same way it did all those years ago.

“Are you sure?” He asks, “You don't have to. It's not like—”

“It's alright. I’ll do it since Seri said it's the perfect apartment for you. I know how hard it is to find good living spaces in Seoul. I'd have loved it if somebody helped me while I was searching for apartments too.” You say, surprised at your own speech. A little blush creeps up your cheeks. “So… it's fine. I can help you.”

He looks at you for a long moment with a genuine, albeit short-lived, smile now playing on his lips. “Thank you,” he utters, and gives a slight bow of his head, “I'll see you later.” Then he turns and walks out, the bell jingling softly behind him.

You stand there, amidst the scent of chocolate and dough. Eunha runs back in, asking you questions and trying to shake you back to consciousness, but you just stare into nothingness, a small, idiotic smile blooming on your face.

For the first time since Yoon Jeonghan has walked back into your life, you don't feel completely lost.

The sharp ping of your phone wakes you, pulling you from a hazy dream of perfect pastries. You blink, reaching for it on your nightstand. With a foggy mind, you pinch one eye open to look at your screen.

Unknown Contact: Good morning, Y/N. This is Jeonghan. Got your number from Seri. I was wondering if you are free today. The landlord wants to sign the lease for the apartment.

With widened eyes, your phone drops from your hands right on top of your face. A painful gasp rips from your throat, and you slowly sit upright, wincing and rubbing your poor nose.

You jolt when your phone buzzes again, signaling another text.

Unknown Contact: It's alright if you're not available. Just let me know, and I'll try rescheduling.

Oh no. Shit.

Today? Your schedule is packed, a new batch of sourdough to prep, and custom orders to finish. You are definitely not free. But a strange thrill runs through you.

This is it, the first real step into this bizarre adventure that might give you a chance to taste the sweetness of being with your life-long crush (as crazy as it sounds).

You take a few deep breaths, giving yourself mental pats before typing on your phone with trembling hands.

You: Good morning! Yes, I am. Just let me know when and where.

You have to be crazy for this.

The next thing you do is immediately call Seokmin. “Hey, Seokmin! Super sorry about this, but can you handle things at the bakery today? Something urgent came up.” Seokmin, being the gem he is, readily agrees.

You push off your covers, a sudden burst of energy propelling you out of bed. You spend extra time on your hair, curling it into soft, brown waves, and pick out an outfit that feels effortlessly elegant but still approachable—a soft, flowy dress, a little more dressed up than your usual bakery outfit. You even add a touch of subtle makeup, something you rarely bother with unless it's a special occasion.

Standing in front of your full-length mirror, you take a quick picture and send it to Eunha.

You: How do I look? Too much? Not enough?

Eunhie 😻: You look like a WIFE. Go get him, bunny!

You laugh almost nervously. A wife. The word feels foreign and exciting all at once.

The apartment building is in a quiet, older part of Seoul, its red bricks covered in ivy. Your eyes fall on Jeonghan standing by the entrance, dressed simply in a dark shirt and neat trousers, looking effortlessly put together. He is on his phone, of course, but as you approach, he looks up, and for the first time, you feel his eyes see you. A flicker of something, maybe surprise, passes through them before he gives you a small, polite smile.

“Hi,” you say, feeling a blush creep up your neck.

“Hi,” he replies, his voice calm. “Thanks for coming. She’s waiting inside.” He gestures to the door, but just as you turn, his hand grabs yours. “Wait.”

You feel a flutter in your chest, briefly glancing at your intertwined hands before looking up into his eyes. He silently takes something out of his pocket and extends it towards you. Your eyes widen, fixed on the velvet box clutched in his hand. “This is your ring. Wear it.”

Your gaze sweeps across the shining band on his own finger, and you blink, staring up at him in astonishment. He went as far as to buy actual rings?

Your throat runs dry, but you silently take the box and pray to God you don't look stupid blushing over fake rings. “You didn't have to…go that far.”

“It would've looked suspicious if we didn't have rings. One visible sign of marriage, you know?” He says, smiling gently and you can't help but want to be the reason behind all his smiles. “Shall we go?” He asks, breaking your tiny reverie, and you slip on the ring quickly before nodding.

You're wearing a wedding ring. Your husband is Yoon Jeonghan.

How crazy can life be?

You follow him into a small, immaculately clean lobby. An older woman with kind, sharp eyes is sitting behind a desk, clutching a stack of papers. She seems like someone who would prepare soup for her grandchildren but would not let strangers have a sip of water from her home.

She looks up as you enter, her gaze sweeping over both of you, lingering on your dress and the way you stand just a little closer to Jeonghan than necessary.

“Mr. Yoon,” she says, her voice warm, but with an underlying firmness. You're surprised to see her address Jeonghan formally. “And this must be your… wife?” She raises an eyebrow at you, and your world spins a little faster. Is she able to see right through your act? That's the last thing you want right now, because Jeonghan losing this apartment would be a direct result of your cover being busted. You cannot let that happen.

You quietly slip closer to him, your hand barely brushing against his warm one. It's taking everything in you not to just hold it, and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat.

Jeonghan turns to you, a soft, natural smile appearing on his face. With a calm smile on his face, he gently interlocks his fingers with yours. His touch is warm, surprisingly solid. All your world comes undone, and you resist the urge to flinch, instead squeezing his hand subtly in return. If someone were to ask you how you'd like to die, you'd say this—with your hand held in Jeonghan's soft hold and his eyes smiling down at you (even if it's a pretense).

“Yes Mrs Lee,” Jeonghan says smoothly, his gaze shifting towards his landlord. “This is Y/N. My wife.”

Wife.

There's a sharp pang in your heart at the mention of the word, at the whole situation because it dawns on you that this is not real. You force a bright smile, letting your hand link through his. “It’s lovely to finally meet you, Mrs Lee. Jeonghan has told me so much about this wonderful building.” You feel a ridiculous urge to giggle at the lie, but you keep your expression sweet.

Mrs Lee’s gaze softens. “Yes, well, it is a quiet building. Family-oriented. We like to keep it that way.” She looks at your joined hands, then back at your face with a satisfied nod. “Please, sit. Let’s go over the paperwork.”

As she shuffles papers, Jeonghan squeezes your hand again, sending a jolt of electricity up your spine. You feel a strange sense of partnership, like you’re keeping his secret, and Lord knows you’d take it to your grave if it means keeping Jeonghan happy.

His arm brushes yours as he leans in slightly to point at a clause on the lease. You find yourself leaning in too, close enough to catch the subtle scent of his cologne. It is a new smell, mature and clean. Not that you ever smelled him back in your teenage years, you'd always believed he smelled like vanilla. Now he smells more like a faint hint of cedar and fresh laundry, a scent that somehow suits the mature man he has become.

The landlord eventually hands Jeonghan the keys with a broad smile. “Welcome to the building, Mr. and Mrs. Yoon!” she says, her wrinkles deepening as she smiles.

You feel a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins, yet you find yourself choking back a laugh. Jeonghan's lips twitch slightly in amusement as he gives Mrs Lee a polite bow, and you mirror it, feeling a mix of relief and exhilaration.

Well, now this is a strange beginning.

The days that follow the apartment signing are a mix of many emotions. You often stay busy at the bakery and curse Seri out every waking moment, but you can't deny it when she says, “Stop acting like you're not enjoying this, honey.”

Because yes, you are. You are enjoying it a lot. Jeonghan hadn't been in your life for seven years, and now, suddenly, he is everywhere in your head. You often find yourself crying with the uncertainty of your future, but his being back also excites you every second.

Although you haven't seen him since, a part of you is relieved by the silence. But there's also the anticipation of what's next eating you up every now and then.

Had the fake-marriage thing ended with the lease? You aren’t sure, and the uncertainty, rather than fading, just keeps growing. It is frustrating, irritating, and a little bit thrilling how easily Jeonghan slipped back into your thoughts, claiming more space than he ever had before. You are a fool, you know it, but some part of you just can't help it.

It's one such Friday when orders are piling up at the bakery, the coffee machine is sputtering, and a line of impatient customers stretches out the door. You are elbow-deep in flour, trying to manage three things at once, when your phone buzzes in your apron pocket. You wipe your hands quickly and pull it out.

Yoon Menace 🤬: Jeonghan is moving his stuff today. The landlady might get suspicious. It'd be nice if you dropped by ;)

Yoon Menace 🤬: I told him to call you but you know how he is

Yoon Menace 🤬: Doesn't wanna trouble you more and all, stupid

Your heart jumps into your throat, and while your brain tells you to just shut the fuck up and focus on work, your heart screams otherwise. You know this is another one of Seri’s schemes. You know you shouldn't be indulging in this. You know it will hurt you. But the temptation of tasting marriage with Jeonghan is too much. Your friend is trying to set you up, like she promised all those years ago. So why should you not go with this?

“Seokmin!” you yell over the din of the bakery, grabbing your purse. “I have to go right now!”

Seokmin looks up from where he's wiping one of the tables, bewildered by your sudden urgency. “Go? What about the…?” He gestures wildly at the overflowing counters.

“Just handle it, please. Call me if anything explodes! I’ll be back as soon as I can!” You’re already halfway to the door, shrugging on your jacket. You don't even think twice. The bakery, the customers, the endless tasks—it all has vanished from your mind. For some foolish, inexplicable reason, Jeonghan is more important. You are leaving everything behind, rushing into the unknown, just like the absolute fool you are.

You barge in through the door of Jeonghan’s apartment building, heart hammering crazily against your ribs. Up the stairs you fly, your lungs burning, until you reach his floor. The door to his apartment is wide open, and Jeonghan is in the middle of the living room, wrestling with what looks like a flat-pack bookshelf, a tangle of wooden pieces and metal rods surrounding him. Boxes are everywhere, stacked against walls, spilling open with clothes and books, and a half-eaten instant noodle cup sits precariously on a wobbling stack. He is wearing an old, faded t-shirt and sweatpants, his dark hair falling over his forehead as he grunts with effort.

You're just admiring him when he looks up, startled by your sudden entrance, a spanner still clutched in his hand. His eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Y/N? What—what are you doing here?”

You walk further in, trying to catch your breath, the absurdity of the situation hitting you. “Seri… Seri texted me,” You gasp out, pointing accusingly at your phone. “She said the landlady was here and getting suspicious again and that you needed me.”

There's a pause and Jeonghan just blinks, then a soft, disbelieving chuckle escapes him. He actually laughs, a genuine, light laugh that makes the tension in your chest ease just a fraction. “The landlady?” he repeats, shaking his head. “Why would she be here? I just signed the lease, and she seemed perfectly happy. She has no reason to be here.” He walks over to a box and places the spanner down, muttering under his breath. “Seri’s too much.”

You don't quite hear him, but then he turns to you, his face softening. “I’m sorry she bothered you. You didn’t have to rush over. I'm already grateful that you decided to help me.”

A wave of disappointment washes over you. Were you expecting to have another chance to play marriage with him? You’d left your entire bakery in Seokmin’s hands for this. Delusional. Stupid.

“Oh,” you mumble, your voice laced with awkwardness. The initial rush of adrenaline drains away, leaving you feeling foolish. The silence stretches in the wrecked apartment, filled only by the distant sounds of city traffic. You glance at the mess, clearing your throat. “Well, now that I’m here,” you offer, trying to salvage the situation, “do you need any help? It looks like you’ve got your hands full.”

Jeonghan looks at the scattered furniture parts, then back at you, a small, grateful smile appearing on his lips. “Actually, yes. If you don’t mind of course. This thing is surprisingly complicated.” He points to a small wooden piece. “Could you hold this while I try to line up the screw?”

You feel a deep flutter in your heart, and you only try to chastise yourself for it—God knows you'd fall to your knees for this man. Stepping closer, you kneel beside him as he bends over the half-built bookshelf. You hold the piece steady, your fingers brushing against his occasionally as he maneuvers the screw. You are focused, trying to be helpful, when suddenly a sharp pain shoots through your eye.

“Aagh!” you yelp, dropping the wooden piece and clutching your eye, trying to blink. Something tiny, probably a bit of sawdust or a stray fiber, has flown into it. This is so embarrassing.

“Hey,” Jeonghan immediately straightens up, his hands reaching for you. “What happened?” He gently pulls your hand away from your face, his touch surprisingly tender. He leans in, his gaze fixed on your eye, trying to see.

You find yourself leaning back against the wall, his face incredibly close, and his breath warm against your cheek. The subtle scent of his cologne envelops you, your heartbeat skyrocketing. You are acutely aware of the warmth of his fingers on your face, the concentration in his eyes, and it's making you weak in the knees.

He tilts your head slightly, his other hand coming up to gently part your eyelid. Just as he leans even closer, his face inches from yours in an attempt to get a better look, the apartment door, which you’d left ajar, swings open wider.

“Oh, great heavens!”

You take a second too long to step out of the spell Jeonghan's proximity has put you in, and you notice him calmly turning to look at the doorway. Your head spins seeing Mrs Lee stand there, with another woman beside her arm—someone who looks alarmingly similar to Jeonghan.

“I know you two are newly married,” Mrs Lee’s voice chimes in a little awkwardly, and she chuckles, “but you really shouldn’t leave the door open like that!”

Heat creeps up your neck as you realize that the posture you were in might've looked wrong. You bite your lip, blood rushing up to your cheeks as you watch Jeonghan clear his throat. For some reason, he still looks calm.

“It's not like that,” Jeonghan says, rubbing a hand on the nape of his neck. “We weren't—”

“Oh, I know a thing or two about how passionate young kids are!” Mrs Lee laughs, making you almost choke on nothing. Passionate?!

“Mom? What are you doing here?”

Your eyes fly to look at Jeonghan who’s staring at his mom, showing no major signs of shock even though his tone betrays him. The other woman is his mom?!

Well, here goes nothing.

The silence in the small café is borderline suffocating. You sit opposite Jeonghan’s mother, a latte forgotten in front of you. Jeonghan is right beside you, surprisingly nonchalant, swirling the ice in his glass of americano. His mother simply observes the two of you with a gaze that's steady as well as bewildered.

She finally takes a slow sip of her tea, her eyes still fixed on you. You mirror her, taking a nervous gulp of your coffee, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. Jeonghan, however, remains outwardly calm, as if this is just a normal Friday afternoon.

“So,” she begins, her voice cutting through the awkward silence like a knife. “You two are… married.” Her gaze shifts to Jeonghan and stays there for a second too long. “And you didn’t think to tell me, Jeonghan? Your own mother?” You sense a tremor of hurt beneath her controlled tone. “No ceremony, no announcement? Just… suddenly married?”

You open your mouth, ready to blurt out the truth, to explain to the landlord, the apartment, the whole fake situation you're in. But Jeonghan's touch snatches away any words from your tongue.

He reaches under the table, his fingers finding yours and lacing them together firmly. You gulp, staring at him in surprise as you try not to focus on the way your heartbeat has quickened drastically.

Jeonghan clears his throat, his gaze meeting his mother’s. His expression is unreadable, perhaps a shade colder than it had been when he was helping you with your eye. “Mom, we got married about three weeks ago,” he says, his voice even, almost detached. “It was very sudden. And I know I should have told you, but honestly, you wouldn’t have cared much anyway, would you?”

You widen your eyes at his words, specifically at his tone. He didn't sound angry, just resigned, like hope is something he doesn't look at.

“Besides,” he continues with a faint, almost sarcastic edge to his tone, “you’ve always wanted me to settle down. So, it’s good, right? Your wish came true.”

His mother flinches slightly at his words, a flash of hurt crossing her face before she quickly masks it. She looks at your intertwined hands, then back at Jeonghan. You can sense a complex mix of confusion, disappointment, and perhaps even a bit of sadness in her eyes.

Jeonghan doesn't wait for her to respond. He abruptly stands up, pulling you gently with him. “Let's go.”

“I’ll see you later, Mom. Y/N has to get back to the bakery, and I still have so much unpacking to do. Have a good afternoon.”

Before she can utter another word, he is guiding you out of the café, leaving her sitting alone at the small table, her untouched tea cooling in front of her. The noise of the city rushes in, distracting you from the heavy silence you’d just left behind. You don't look back.

The bustling street feels like a different world. Jeonghan still holds your hand, his grip loose but present as he walks through the sparse crowd. He hasn’t said a word since pulling you out, and you are too busy trying to process what has just happened, and also the feel of his hand in yours.

He finally stops by a small potted plant on the sidewalk, letting go of your hand to run a hand through his hair. “I’m truly sorry about that,” he says, his voice low, his eyes avoiding yours as he stares at the plant. “My mom… she’s been really pushing me to get married.”

Your eyes widen for a second at his words, but you don't say a word. Jeonghan continues, his voice quieter than before. “She wants me to… well, she’s been trying to get me to marry someone with family connections. Someone who could help with her family’s old business, get them some kind of tax break or investment benefit if I were linked to a certain family. She thinks it would solve all their financial worries, even if it’s outdated thinking. She brings it up every time we talk.”

He becomes silent for a second too long, and you get a chance to take in his words. There's so much you don't know about him, so much you might never know.

He finally looks at you, but this time with a bit of frustration in his eyes. “It’s why I hadn’t even told her I was back in Seoul properly, let alone about the apartment. She just showed up.”

“And now,” he adds with a tired sigh, “I’ve dragged you into this. I’m really and truly sorry, Y/N. This is a complete mess, and it’s my fault.”

You blink at him, and instantly shake your head, cutting him off before he can apologize further. You are still a fool, but you’re a willing one.

“Hey,” you say softly, reaching out to gently touch his arm. “Don’t apologize. We got the apartment, right? And we saved you from… well, from that.” You gesture vaguely in the direction of the café. “It’s fine. Seriously. I told you, I’ll help you out.”

He looks at you for a moment, something like gratitude surfacing in his eyes. He seems like he wants to say something more but he just smiles softly and mutters a thanks.

You realize you have never seen a smile more beautiful. You also realize that you're in love with Jeonghan again.

And he isn't.

Again.

“So you're telling me that this isn't just about the landlady? And you're going to continue this act in front of his family?!”

You sigh, whining as you drop yourself on the couch beside Eunha. “His friends too? Probably anyone he knows? I don't know. I- I just don't know anything.”

Eunha hums, shutting her laptop and fully turning to you. “It’s okay. You've been handling this well. And you will, I know.”

You chew on your lip, humming absentmindedly. Even though you trust Eunha, you aren't sure how well you've been handling it. So far, you've only found yourself to be stupid.

She leans forward, her tone turning softer, more serious. “Listen, I know this is wild, and your heart is probably doing gymnastics right now. But—” she pauses, keeping a hand on your cold one. “This is a temporary gig for him. He needs this for his apartment, for his mom's whatever benefits.”

You interrupt, “Exactly! And I’m out here fantasizing this whole thing like a teenager.” Eunha chuckles, squeezing your face between her palms fondly. “So what? You ride this wave, you help him out, and you see where it goes. But what's important is to keep your feet on the ground. You should not expect anything from him.”

“That’s what I'm failing at,” you whisper, the excitement and fear battling inside you. It feels like a lost war. “I feel like I’ve rekindled all those feelings and this time it’s even worse.”

Eunha coos, squeezing your hand. “Then you deal with it, just like you always do. You’re not that insecure middle schooler anymore. You’re a successful bakery owner, you’re strong, you’re determined. And you’ve got me to slap some sense into you if you need it.”

“But also, what if it’s different this time? What if this actually gives me a chance I never thought I’d get?”

You look at her, then down at your hands. The idea of a chance feels terrifying and exhilarating all at once. “So, I just… keep pretending?”

“You keep pretending for him, and you figure out what you want for you,” Eunha says, opening a soda can and extending it towards you. “This is your story, Y/N. You get to decide how it ends. Just don't forget it's a performance for them, but a real experience for you. Make sure you get what you need out of it too.” She sighs once you absentmindedly take the can from her, and grins. “Maybe try fake kissing next time. For research purposes, of course.”

You groan, throwing another cushion at her, a laugh finally bubbling up your throat. She laughs with you, still teasing you about how red your cheeks are at the mention.

Jeonghan [💌]: Hey. Hope you're alright. I am hosting a housewarming party this Saturday and I'd love for you to come. Not for pretense or anything, I'm not about to put you in trouble again (sorry about that) ⁠^⁠‿⁠^ I'm just really thankful, and it'd be fun if you could just come as my friend. Of course, if you're free!

You nearly drop your phone into the newly made batter with a yelp that causes Seokmin to run towards you. “What? What happened? Are you okay?”

You stare aimlessly at the counter, your mouth slightly parted as the text constantly flickers in front of your eyes.

“Y/N?” Seokmin pokes your shoulder again, concern etched on his face. You look at him with widened eyes, “Huh?”

“You screamed…and now you've zoned out. Is everything alright?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowed in worry.

Under normal circumstances, you'd laugh and tease Seokmin about how easily worried he is, but you're currently not under normal circumstances.

Jeonghan inviting you to his housewarming party as a friend doesn't count as normal.

“Yeah,” you let out, absentmindedly. “I'm okay. Uh—would you finish this batch for me? I need to go make a call.”

He smiles, instantly nodding at you like the sunshine that he is. “Of course!”

Without another word, you run out to take a breath of fresh air and to possibly scream over the phone with Eunha.

I should go back.

That’s the only constant chant in your head as you stand in front of Jeonghan’s apartment door, your heart drumming against your ribs. You don’t even know what you’re so nervous for—perhaps it’s the sheer force of your emotions that have started to mess with your head more than ever before, or perhaps it’s just the fact that you’re Jeonghan’s friend.

You’re not about to knock when the door swings open. Jeonghan stands there, wearing a simple, dark t-shirt that makes you feel a bit overdressed, a warm smile gracing his lips. You think he looks genuinely happy to see you, but maybe you’ve just mastered the art of delusion.

Before you can even utter a greeting, Seri practically materializes beside him, launching herself at you in a bear hug. “Y/N! You made it! I knew you would!” And on she goes telling everyone about how amazing your sourdough is. She introduces you to everyone in the apartment that is buzzing with people, while your eyes have a way to keep finding Jeonghan.

Looking at him, you don’t even know if you want him in your life forever, or if you want him to disappear from your sight. It’s a strange push and pull of your heart, one whose strings are intricately being tangled each time you glance at him and find him not looking at you.

His friends are all genuinely nice, and you find yourself enjoying their company despite being an introvert. Seri keeps you engaged for most of the night, helping you socialize and warm up in front of people you don’t know.

It’s safe to say you’re fine until you see Jeonghan across the room, by the kitchen counter, laughing at something a girl says. She is pretty, with long, dark hair, and she is leaning in close, her hand resting lightly on his arm as they talk. He’s smiling that soft, genuine smile, the one you’d only seen a few times, usually directed at Seri. And suddenly, everything you’d been fine about weighs heavily on your chest. The bitterness you’d felt that first day, when he walked into your bakery, returns with a vengeance.

You drift towards the drinks table, grabbing a cup and filling it liberally. One drink turns into two, then three. You laugh louder at jokes, chime into conversations more often, trying to drown out the disturbing unease in your chest. The alcohol blurs the edges of the room, making everyone seem a little funnier, a little friendlier. You stop noticing the girl by the counter, or at least, you try to.

Hours later, the party has mellowed, the music has turned softer, and your laughter is a bit more slurred. You are swaying slightly, leaning against Seri, who looks just as tipsy.

“How… how are you gonna get home, Y/N?” Seri giggles, slurring her words slightly. “You’re, like, properly sloshed.”

You giggle back, waving a dismissive hand. You look around the room, pointing. “Seungcheol? Nope, he’s hammered. Jisoo? Definitely not. Soonyoung? He’s probably going to dance his way home.” You scan the remaining few, all looking thoroughly relaxed and well-hydrated with alcohol. Your finger finally lands on Jeonghan, who is sitting quietly on the sofa, nursing a glass of water, and looking remarkably sober.

“Him,” you declare, pointing a wobbly finger. “Jeonghan. He’s sober. He can drive.”

You don’t really know what Seri says beside you, because even in your drunken state, the blurred vision of Jeonghan’s smile makes you lose sense of yourself. You stare at him, head clouded with the dire need of being enveloped in his warmth even as he bends near you, calling out your name.

A sudden hit on your head by Seri breaks your magical bubble, and reality crashes down on you like a truck. You respond to Jeonghan in a broken hum, standing up from your place and stumbling right into him. Quick to his reflexes, he holds you in place, his hand feeling too warm against your clothed back. “Be careful.”

You try to ignore the incessant drumming of your heart and nod before zoning out for a while. Seri shoves at your shoulder again. “Go home! He’s waiting to drop you off.”

You blink at your surroundings again, “Yeah, yeah. Let’s go.”

Jeonghan's hand is warm on your arm, guiding you steadily out of his apartment. Your legs feel a bit like jelly, and you lean into his solid presence more than you intend to. He doesn't seem to mind, his grip firm but gentle as he steers you down the quiet hallway.

He opens the passenger door of a sleek, dark car—a model you don't recognize but instantly categorize as 'expensive and very Jeonghan.'

You practically tumble into the seat, groaning at your clumsiness. Without a warning, Jeonghan leans over you, the subtle scent of his cologne filling the small space. Your breath hitches, blinking up at his close face. He reaches across your chest to pull the seat belt, and for a long moment, his arm is pressed against you, his face impossibly close to yours. Your drunken eyes flicker to his lips, then back to his steady gaze and you want to curse yourself in every language known to mankind.

Every fiber of your being screams at you to just lean in, to close the minuscule gap between you. Your mind is a messy battlefield of drunken desire and years of unrequited longing. However, just as the click of the seatbelt echoes loudly in the quiet car, your spell breaks. He pulls back just as easily as he’d leaned in, settling into the driver's seat. “Put in your address.”

“Just drive to my bakery, I live a block down from it,” you say, looking out the window.

The drive is smooth, the late-night city lights blurring into streaks of color outside your window. In the silence, you're feeling incredibly mellow, and the alcohol has likely loosened your tongue because you find yourself making small talk that you never would, otherwise.

“Have you ever liked someone?” you ask, the words spilling out before you can stop them.

Jeonghan glances at you for just a second, his hands steady on the wheel. “Sure,” he says, his voice even yet laced with a tiny ounce of amusement. “Everyone does.”

“No, I mean… really liked someone,” you press, leaning your head against the cool window. “Like, they take over your brain. Make you crazy.”

He hums softly in a way that tells you he’s never really been hit by that force of emotions. “It’s been a while since I’ve thought about that.”

His statement feels like a dagger twisted at your heart. Your neck cranes to look at him, and your wretched heart screams for you to lessen the burden of your heart—one you’ve been carrying for years.

You wish to yell and dump your emotions on him, but instead, all that leaves your mouth is nothing close to the many jumbled words residing in your head. “You’re a bad guy, you know,” you slur slightly, looking at his profile in the dim light of the dashboard. “You don’t even know how much of a bad guy you are.”

He looks at you surprised, then he chuckles as if he knows you’re just drunk-talking. “Yet I am the one who’s dropping you home.” You turn to look at him again, slightly astonished that he’s just said something more than small talk. A joke, a teasing statement. It stirs your emotions once again, making your head spin heavily as the car pulls up in front of your apartment building. Jeonghan parks, then turns off the engine. He gets out and walks around to your side of the car, all the while with your eyes following his movement. The door to your side opens, and he leans in without warning again.

“We’re here,” he says, his voice almost a low murmur as he reaches past you, his hand brushing you as he attempts to unbuckle your seatbelt. He's right above you, his shadow enveloping you, that mature, clean scent filling your senses again. You don’t even feel your heart pounding at this point—perhaps you’re far too drunk, or full of emotions, or something in between.

“There’s something I’ve wanted to do,” you whisper and Jeonghan’s eyes lift from the seatbelt to meet yours, the click of it resounding in the quiet night, “all my life.”

He tilts his head slightly, his expression curious. “What is it?” he asks, his voice soft, like he’s being gentle with your drunk self, like he’s trying to take care of you. It breaks your heart and fills it with love at the same time. You’re sure your sober self wouldn’t blame you for not answering with words. You lift your head, reaching for him, and press your lips against his.

Jeonghan freezes like a statue carved from astonishment. His eyes are wide, unblinking, staring into the dim space beside your head. He feels the light press of your mouth, tasting faintly of the sweet, fruity drink you'd been consuming all night, the gentle shift as you slump against him, and then, nothing.

You're completely out.

He stands there for a beat longer, the shock slowly giving way to bewilderment. Your head is resting awkwardly against his cheek, your lips still slightly parted against his. Your breath is soft and even against his skin, and he can feel the weight of your body slumping against his, completely relaxed. He shifts carefully, trying not to disturb you. Your head lolls slightly, making the gentle pressure on his lips deepen for a fleeting second before settling again.

For the first time in his life, Jeonghan finds himself utterly lost on what to do next.

The morning sun feels like a thousand tiny needles stabbing into your brain. A dull, throbbing ache pulses behind your eyes, and you groan, pulling the blanket further over your head, only to be met with a cheerful, obnoxious hum right next to your ear.

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead!” Seri’s voice, annoyingly bright, pierces through your headache. “Someone had a very good time last night, didn’t they?”

You peel one eye open. Seri is perched on the edge of your bed with a glass of water and a painkiller in her hand, a triumphant grin plastered across her face.

“Ugh,” you mumble, pushing yourself up, the world spinning for a dizzying moment. “What are you doing here? And please, for the love of all that is holy, lower your voice.” You take the water and pill gratefully.

“I’m here to make sure my little friend survived her first housewarming party with her fake husband,” Seri chirps, completely ignoring your request. “And let me tell you, you were out cold. Jeonghan practically carried you to your door. I told him he could just leave you, but he was all gentlemanly about it.” She pokes your cheek. “You looked like a baby.”

You feel the pill somewhat stick itself in your throat as her words slice through your foggy head. A memory, fragmented and hazy but terrifyingly real, flashes through your mind and you choke. Seri rushes to your side in a second, patting your back as you unwillingly gulp down some water. Any of her motherly rants fall on deaf ears because all that your head is wrapped around is one fact.

You kissed Jeonghan.

Well, it doesn’t have to be a big deal.

The fact that you were drunk and kissed your crush of years doesn’t have to be a big deal. As long as you ghost him and gracefully exit his life, it won't be a hindrance.

Except your life isn't very nice towards you, because the first customer that walks into your bakery the next morning is Jeonghan's mother. Additionally, what she's saying is something that’s completely against your plan.

“I’ve been trying to reach Jeonghan all morning, but he seems to be quite busy. Typical, of course.”

We’re planning a family trip to a resort. Just for a few days next month. It’s important for families to spend time together, wouldn’t you agree? Especially new family members.” She emphasizes with a slight tilt of her head and you're certain if you were holding something, you'd have dropped it. “And of course, Jeonghan needs to come. And naturally, we expect his… wife to be there.”

Her words hang in the air like a trap, making your heart thud louder against your chest. “Oh, a resort trip,” you manage to say, trying to sound enthusiastic. “That sounds lovely.”

“It is,” she affirms, with a faint smile gracing her lips. “We always ensure we have the best amenities, of course. Nothing less for the family. I’ve booked enough rooms. I just need to confirm your availability so I can finalize the arrangements. I trust you can clear your schedule? Jeonghan tells me your work here is quite flexible.”

You bite back a retort. Flexible? You work seventeen-hour days and haven’t taken a proper vacation in years. But saying no would blow your cover, and somehow, the thought of letting Jeonghan down feels worse than a forced resort trip with his subtly judging mother.

“I… I’ll need to check my calendar,” you say, forcing another smile. “And I’ll let Jeonghan know so he can coordinate with you.”

She nods with a satisfied look on her face. “Excellent. Do let me know as soon as you can. Jeonghan needs to attend, and you know how he can be, sometimes needing a gentle push. I’ll send you the details. I look forward to spending some quality time with my son and his lovely wife.”

Well, it is a big deal after all.

You bid goodbye to a bright Seokmin, wearily grabbing your bag to tuck it over your shoulder. You haven't even stepped out when the bell jingles and you turn, your heart nearly jumping up to your throat. Standing there, looking distinctly out of place, is Jeonghan. He isn't on his phone this time. His hands are stuffed into his pockets, and his gaze, usually so composed, darts nervously around the street before settling on you.

"Hey," he says, his voice a little higher than usual. He clears his throat. "Rough day?"

You can't believe you're seeing him right now. You'd believed you'd never have to, or if in case you do, you'll profusely apologize. But there's no acknowledgement of the kiss, and it doesn't even feel like he plans to bring it up.

“Something like that," you reply, swallowing thickly, suddenly hyper-aware of his presence. "Listen," he starts, taking a step closer, then stopping. He runs a hand through his hair, looking utterly un-Jeonghan-like in his disarray. "My mom… she came by, didn't she? About the… the trip."

You nod slowly. "She did."

"Right. Look, you don't have to go," he blurts out, the words tumbling over each other. "Seriously. It's just her. She gets like that. She means well, but… It's too much. You have your work, you're busy. You don't need to put up with her just because… because of this pretense. You really don't have to do anything. I mean, it's fine. It's really fine if you just… say no. To her. Or to me. I wouldn't blame you." He looks at everything but you, his gaze darting from a display of croissants to the fairy lights you haven't taken down yet. He is babbling. Jeonghan, the perpetually calm, quiet Jeonghan, is babbling.

He doesn't know how he's supposed to come to terms with the fact that he has spent his entire Sunday agonizing over a mere kiss. Not even a kiss. A press of lips against his own. He doesn't know how to look you in your eyes and ask you to pretend to be his wife again for a stupid trip his mom cannot let go of. He doesn't know how he'll take that without thinking about you incessantly.

You don’t understand where he's coming from, but seeing him in this state pulls a foolish smile on your face. He's oddly endearing, and that has made every ounce of embarrassment fly away from your body.

You push off the counter, walking towards him. "Jeonghan," you say softly, stopping just a few feet away. He immediately stops talking, his eyes finally settling on yours, wide and a little panicked.

"It's alright," you continue, and even to your own ears, your voice sounds softer than usual. "I'll go." You pause, and Jeonghan cannot believe his heart flutters watching your smile widen. "I think I need a vacation. It's been a while."

A flash of surprise, then something akin to relief, crosses his face. His shoulders seem to relax, and he lets out a quiet breath. "Are you… sure?" he asks, his voice returning to its normal, calm tone.

"Sure," you confirm, meeting his gaze steadily. The fool in your heart is already packing her bags.

You stand beside Jeonghan in front of the lavish resort, feeling a flutter of nerves that has nothing to do with the gentle breeze rustling your hair. Your phone buzzes incessantly in your hand.

Eunhie 😻: Omg you're there! Send pics! Is he hot in resort wear?!

Eunhie 😻: Remember the rules of fake marriage! Fake kiss often! Look smitten!

Eunhie 😻: No actually, scratch that. Don't kiss him unless it's an emergency. But LOOK like you want to.

You shove your phone into your small clutch, suppressing a groan. Rules of fake marriage. This is going to be an ordeal.

Jeonghan turns to you, not looking his best, composed self, and that gives you a little bit of reassurance. "Alright, a few ground rules," he says, his voice low. "My family is… traditional. They're big on appearances."

You almost sigh.

"First," he continues, "my mother will likely want to discuss the wedding. We're keeping it vague. ‘It just happened.’ ‘We didn’t invite anyone.’ Don't give any specifics, because there aren't any." He pauses, and you nod before noticing the faint red on his ears. "She also might mention 'grandchildren.' Just… smile and nod. Or change the subject to the weather. I don’t know."

Technically, you’d be as red as a tomato in such a situation, but something about seeing Jeonghan flustered boosts your confidence. You bite back a laugh, nodding firmly again.

"Second," he adds, stepping a little closer without warning. Any confidence you’d felt a second ago evaporates into thin air and you’re suddenly blushing. "Public displays of affection are expected. Nothing overboard, but they'll be looking for signs that we're… a proper couple. Holding hands, a little arm-linking, maybe leaning in during conversations." He glances at your hand, then back up at your eyes. "I'll try to initiate, but feel free to reciprocate or even start it if you think it's needed."

Your heart thumps against your ribs as you swallow a hard lump in your throat. Initiate? This is a lot more hands-on than you anticipated.

"And third," he finishes, his gaze softening slightly. "Just… try to look comfortable with me. Like we've known each other forever, which, technically, we have." He offers a small, reassuring smile, and you feel like you’re floating in the air. "It'll be fine. Just a few days."

He extends his hand, his fingers beckoning. "Ready?"

You take a deep breath, the lingering scent of cedar and laundry from his cologne comforting your senses. You look in his eyes—his chocolate brown orbs that haven’t changed a bit since school—and smile nervously before keeping your hand in his. A wave of adrenaline washes over you as his fingers instantly lock around yours, somehow snatching your breath away and grounding you at the same time.

You and Jeonghan step inside the grand lobby, his hand still gently clasping yours. A woman with a sharp, elegant bob and a bright smile rushes towards you. It’s Jeonghan’s aunt, and she embraces him warmly before turning her beaming attention to you.

"Jeonghan! And this must be Y/N! It's so lovely to finally meet you, dear!" she exclaims, pulling you into a surprisingly tight hug. Her eyes sparkle as she subtly takes in your dress, then Jeonghan’s hand still holding yours. "My sister has told me so much about the sudden, wonderful news!"

You manage a polite smile, feeling Jeonghan’s thumb subtly rub the back of your hand. You know he’s trying to reassure you but all it makes you is a nervous wreck. "It's lovely to meet you too, ma'am," you reply, trying to sound genuinely thrilled.

Then begins a crazy spree of introductions that keep you on the edge. The only reason you find yourself easily engaging in light conversation, answering questions about your bakery, is because Jeonghan makes it all easy. He stays close, occasionally squeezing your hand or resting his chin lightly on your head when a particularly effusive relative demands a photo. You feel the warmth of his hand on your back, and his side pressed against yours. He continues to talk about your relationship to whoever asks, and his proximity makes a small, selfish part of you wish it were real.

At lunch, or when the family gathers for drinks, you feel yourself sweat with the scrutinizing eyes on you but every time Jeonghan smiles at you, it melts away. No matter how uncertain this whole thing makes you, you know you’ve chosen it. You feel pathetically happy getting his attention like this, and at the end of the day, you will only be blaming yourself.

One more ease for you on this trip is Seri, even though she’s annoying with her remarks.

"See how he looks at you? That's true love, Y/N. You owe me a big time for this setup!"

"Don't forget to accidentally fall into his arms later. For maximum impact, you know."

“Did he mention kissing? Are you going to kiss him at any point?”

You manage to shove her and laugh it off most times, but it makes your heart race anyway. You’re not sure if Jeonghan even remembers the little drunk kiss, or what he concluded from it. Perhaps he took it as a mistake, which is why he hasn’t even brought it up. You don’t know. What you know is that you wish it could happen again, for real this time.

When the night finally winds down, Jeonghan's mother gives you a warm, if still slightly scrutinizing, hug, telling you what a lovely addition you are to the family. Seri pulls you aside, whispering, "Nailed it! Now go get your beauty sleep, Mrs. Yoon!" before she disappears with the rest of the family.

You and Jeonghan walk back to your shared room in comfortable silence. The long day of pretending has left you both weary. You open the door with the key card and step inside, the sudden silence feeling somewhat comforting.

You glance at the single large bed, then at the couch. Jeonghan also glances at the couch, then back at the bed, then at you. An awkward silence fills the room. You realize you haven’t ever been alone like this with Jeonghan before. It’s a thought that drives you insane for a second longer than you’d like.

"I'll take the couch," Jeonghan says in a quiet voice. He walks over, dropping his small duffel bag beside it, and starts to pull a throw blanket from a nearby armchair.

"Are you sure?" you ask, your head tilted in what you think is guilt. He turns with a small, tired smile on his face that tugs at your heart. "It's fine. I've slept on worse." He shrugs. "You should get some proper rest. It wouldn’t be nice if I just slept beside you, you know."

You feel your face flush, and to avoid his eyes, you quickly walk towards the dresser to pull out some pajamas. You change quickly in the bathroom, shedding a few tears of overwhelm and when you emerge, Jeonghan is already stretched out on the couch, eyes closed, a light blanket pulled up to his chin.

"Goodnight, Y/N," he murmurs, his voice already heavy with sleep.

"Goodnight, Jeonghan," you reply, climbing into the bed and wondering if you’ll even be able to sleep. You close your eyes, the day's events swirling in your head. The feel of his arm around you, the subtle touch of his hand, his genuine smile whenever he looked at you. You're tired, so incredibly tired, but a soft, unfamiliar warmth settles in your chest. Despite the pretense, despite the chaos, despite the fear of what might happen, you drift off, lulled by his soft breathing from the couch.

Everybody who’s ever known Jeonghan is aware of the fact that he’s not a jealous person. Half the time, he doesn’t even acknowledge the existence of people around him, because though he feels, he’s never particularly been amazed by someone so much that he wants them solely for himself.

So it doesn’t make sense that he’s currently shooting daggers at the guy sitting next to you and helping you make bracelets—Joshua, his cousin. From where he’s sitting, he can micro-gaze into the way his fingers brush against yours every time he helps you weave a bead into a strand. And cherry on top, your giggles that flow so easily beside him. Something about the sight makes him want to be the reason for all your smiles. He wonders why he’s only ever seen you glitching around him. Is his presence uncomfortable?

“You look like you’re gonna kill him,” Seri thumps beside you on the bench, her usual grin making Jeonghan roll his eyes. “That’s because I am.”

“Woah,” she widens her eyes at him, genuinely surprised for a second before she bursts into a laugh. Jeonghan’s expression doesn’t falter. “Do you realize that this, in its plain textbook definition, is known as jealousy?”

Jeonghan freezes, a breath getting stuck in his throat.

“I can’t believe this is finally happening. Are you jealous Hannie? Look at me, come on!”

Jeonghan avoids looking up from the ground as the realization hits him like a truck. He remembers your hand in his from yesterday, and he cannot believe that he feels his heart rate quickening. And then, the kiss that he'd tried to dismiss as a drunken impulse tumbles down his memory box, making him cough out a breath.

He watches you giggle and make a bracelet that’ll never be on his wrist, connecting these dots he never wanted to acknowledge. This can't be happening. Not now. Not with you.

But it has.

The night air is cool and soft against your skin as you sit by the resort pool, your feet dangling in the refreshingly cold water. You stare up at the starry sky, your thoughts wandering to the one person in your life who’s kept you up many nights.

All day, Jeonghan has been subtly absent. After breakfast, he seemed to keep a distance from you, engaging with other family members, and leaving you on your own. You haven't questioned it, but an uneasy knot has formed in your stomach.

As if on cue, you feel his presence beside you. Jeonghan slides onto the edge of the pool deck, his legs joining yours in the water. The contact is immediate, a rush of cool water around your ankles and the warmth of his body next to you.

"Hey," he says, his voice soft. He dips into the pool with his hand, disturbing the glowing surface. "How was your day?"

You shrug, letting a small sigh escape your lips. "It was... busy. A lot of questions about my work and our relationship."

He hums, his gaze fixed on the water. You glance at him, trying to subside the relentless throbbing of your heart "How about you? You seemed to lay low today." You manage to giggle.

He sighs, and you swear you see his ears turn red in the dim light. He briefly glances at you before looking down at the water. "I wasn't feeling so well. Just a bit under the weather."

Your brow furrows instantly. "Oh? Are you okay? You should have said something.”

Jeonghan cranes his neck to look at you while you continue to stare at him in concern. “Do you need anything? Medicine? Come on, we should get inside." You start to push yourself up, your concern for him overriding everything else.

"No, no, I'm fine now," he reassures you, gently placing a hand on your arm to keep you seated. It's pathetic how that seems to still you. His eyes, however, subtly shift. You follow his gaze, just barely catching sight of Joshua walking past the pool bar, his eyes seemingly scanning the area.

Jeonghan turns back to you, his expression suddenly unreadable, and you see a hint of something intense in his eyes. His voice drops to a near whisper, barely audible over the distant music. "What I'm going to ask of you now may be very inappropriate," he says, his gaze meeting yours before flickering down to your lips for a second, "but... will you kiss me?" He doesn't wait for your reaction, adding quickly, "Someone's watching. We need to look convincing."

Your mind which was hyperactive due to his proximity, screeches to a sudden halt. You forget to breathe as your brain becomes a blur of desperate logic and raw desire. Your heart, the foolish, idiotic thing it is, screams yes. Every rational thought you possess flies out the window as you make a singular choice.

Without a second thought, you lean in, closing the small distance between you. Your lips meet his, soft and hesitant at first, then with a sudden, real urgency that knocks the breath out of your lungs.

This time, there’s no alcohol-induced haze, no falling asleep. You're wide awake, acutely aware of the warmth of his mouth, the gentle pressure of his hand on your arm that moves to cradle your neck, and the intoxicating truth of a kiss you've wanted for what feels like a lifetime.

Your lips part slowly, and you feel breathless, your heart hammering against your ribs. He pulls back slightly against your better will, his eyes searching yours.

"Is he… is he still watching?" you whisper, your voice a little shaky.

Jeonghan's gaze moves past your shoulder, then back to you. There's no sign of Joshua anywhere, he feels drunk on the taste of you. He doesn't know what takes over him, but he cannot let go of you just yet. "Yes," he murmurs, brushing a hair strand away from your face.

His eyes ask a silent question, a question you answer with your gaze dropping to his lips. He leans in again, slowly this time, giving you every opportunity to pull away.

But you don't. Your eyes drift shut as his lips find yours once more, softer, deeper, more deliberate than before. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your skin, awakening something strange inside you.

When he finally pulls away, you are both breathless, the silence of the night sounding loud around you. His eyes are still focused solely on you, and you are sure he can hear your heartbeat.

"He's gone," Jeonghan says in a voice raspy that sends shivers down your spine.

There it is. The flimsy excuse for the kiss. There's suddenly a heavy awkwardness in the air as you feel heat rush to your cheeks, the reality of what just happened suffocating you. Your heart still pounds, but now it's from pure, unadulterated panic.

You push yourself up from the edge of the pool, scrambling to your feet. "Right," you blurt out, avoiding his gaze. "I... I think I'm going to head to bed. It's late."

You don't wait for a response, practically bolting away from the pool, leaving him sitting there alone. You hear some distant sounds fading behind you as you rush back to the room.

Jeonghan sits by the pool, watching you scurry away like you'd been electrocuted. He touches his lips for a fraction, the reality of what he's done dawning on him. The cool night air does nothing to quell the bewildered heat in his chest.

Involuntarily, he curses under his breath. What the fuck?

The journey back from the resort is strangely filled with a thick silence that threatens to cut your heart open. You and Jeonghan are in his car, the landscape blurring past the window. No one else is there to observe, hence no need for any pretense and the mere thought of all that has ended kills you from the inside. The air between you is thick with unspoken words, specifically the memory of the kiss by the pool. You wish for him to say something, to acknowledge this delicate thing that has begun to linger between you two. You don’t know what it might mean, or rather, what it likely doesn't mean for him.

The moment the car pulls up to your apartment building, you're out without letting him speak a word. You burst through your door, throwing your bag onto the floor, and without a second thought, stumble towards Eunha's apartment across the hall. You bang on her door, tears already pricking your eyes.

Eunha opens it, still in her pajamas, blinking sleepily. Her eyes widen as she takes in your disheveled state. "Y/N? What's wrong? What happened?"

The dam that you’d been holding dearly onto, breaks. You fall into her arms, sobbing uncontrollably, the exhaustion and emotional overload of the past few days crashing down on you. Your heart feels like it was made of glass, and Jeonghan is a toddler clutching onto it. You’re afraid he’ll drop it anytime, and it’ll shatter into a million pieces that you won’t be able to pick up ever again.

"I love him, Eunha,” you sob, your eyes shut as you shake violently in her hold like a baby. “I love him so much. I love him. Do you hear me?”

“I love him.” You babble incoherently, unable to hear anything that Eunha says to comfort you. You’re tired, exhausted, and your words are equally drained. “I love him so much. And he doesn’t.”

For days, you haven’t seen Jeonghan. Your emotions are heavy enough to deal with, you don’t want to look at him and make it worse. You’ve been throwing yourself into work, trying to bury the ache in your chest, trying to forget the feel of his lips, the weight of his existence.

You’re meticulously wiping down the espresso machine, lost in thought, when the little bell above your door jingles. You look up, and your heart screams at you to fall to your knees and hide behind the counter. But your eyes meet Jeonghan’s rather quickly. He stands there, looking a little out of place, clutching a small, familiar silver chain in his hand.

He waves at you with a small smile that rips your heart apart. You gesture for him to wait, mouthing, “I’m coming.” You prepare yourself while serving the in-line customers and then you tell Seokmin you’ll be outside for a second.

You step outside the busy bakery with Jeonghan, and it’s suddenly very awkwardly silent. You don’t speak first, just stare at him questioningly. He bites his lip, then chuckles awkwardly before dangling your bracelet in front of you. "You left this in my car. I thought... I should return it."

You gulp, staring at the useless silver chain that somehow looks prettier in his hands. Darn him and darn this bracelet.

You take it from him, your fingers brushing briefly—a contact that sends a jolt through you, reminding you of all the touches that had felt so real, so intimate, just days ago. "Thanks," you reply, trying to keep your voice neutral. Professional event.

He shoves his hands into his pockets, his gaze darting around the street and avoiding your eyes. "Right. And... about everything. The apartment, my mom, the resort. I am sorry, Y/N. I know it's been a lot. I didn't mean to drag you into so much trouble." He rubs the back of his neck, a nervous habit you've only just noticed. "It's just… You know. I should have handled it better. You shouldn't have had to deal with all that." He trails off, looking genuinely flustered, like he wants to say so much more but the words are stuck.

His words only make the ache in your chest sharpen. You grip the bracelet tightly, the cool metal pressing into your palm. You can't do this anymore. Every single thing about this is tearing you apart.

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to meet his gaze, even though it feels like looking directly into the sun. "Jeonghan," you say, your voice soft but firm, "I appreciate you saying that. And I genuinely don't regret helping you with the apartment. Or with your mom." You pause, choosing your words carefully. "But... I can't do this anymore.”

There. You’ve said it. You can’t undo it. You feel liberated, but also devastated.

“Y/N—” he begins to say, but you know you cannot hear it. You interrupt, your eyes glistening ever so slightly, “I can't be part of any more plans. No more pretending. I'm sorry, but I just... I can't."

Jeonghan freezes. His slight, nervous fidgeting stops. His eyes, which had been filled with apology, now widened almost unnoticeably, a sudden, raw vulnerability flashing through them. He stares at you, seeming like he’s been hit with a hard blow. He doesn't say anything, but the silence from him is deafening, filled with a surprise that borders on hurt.

You smile at him, one that pains you. “Thank you for—” giving me a chance to feel what it’s like to be close to you, you want to say, but you bite your tongue, the corners of your lips trembling. “For everything.”

And you mean it. You are grateful for every emotion he’s ever made you feel, even the hurt. There’s no ounce of resentment in your heart for him as you walk back inside, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye.

Jeonghan thinks he knows what a stab feels like.

Jeonghan stares at the box, a cardboard tomb of forgotten memories. Seri, inexplicably, has decided his apartment needs a "post-housewarming deep clean," which mostly involves her directing him while he moves heavy things. He's wrestling with a particularly stubborn stack of old school books when she lets out a gasp from a nearby box.

"Aha!" she exclaims, pulling out a dusty photo album. "Jackpot! You still have this?!" She plops down onto the floor, scattering a few stray dust bunnies. "Come here, Hannie, let's relive the glory days of middle school!"

Jeonghan sighs, but curiosity, or perhaps just resignation, draws him over. He sits beside her, bracing himself for the attack of embarrassing adolescent pictures. Seri flips through the pages, giggling, pointing out various awkward phases, all in which Jeonghan looks like a heartthrob.

"Oh my god, look at my braces!" she cackles, then her finger stills on a page. "Wait. Look at this one."

It's a picture from a school picnic, a blurry group shot.. You're in the foreground, laughing at something off-camera, your head thrown back. And behind you, slightly out of focus, is Jeonghan, his gaze fixed on you, his young face twisted in a soft smile.

Seri pokes him. "See that? And this one!" She flips to another page—a school play where all the girls are wearing dresses. You're beaming at the camera, and in the background, half-hidden by a prop tree, is Jeonghan, again, looking at you. Another picture from a field trip, a candid shot of you talking with friends, and there he is, in the periphery, with his eyes trained on you.

"Seriously," Seri says, her voice now replaced by genuine fascination. "You're looking at Y/N in every single one of these. It's almost creepy how consistent it is." She looks up at him with a knowing glint in her eyes. "You've always looked at her like that, you know. Like she's the only person in the room."

"No," Jeonghan says in a rough voice, pulling his gaze away from the album. He pushes himself up, pacing a few steps away. "That's ridiculous, Seri. I... I respect her a lot. We've known each other forever. She's a great friend. I don't... I don't 'like her like that.' It's just..." He turns back to her, his voice firm, trying to convince himself as much as her. "I don't like her like that.” He starts to walk away, making for the door, as if to escape the conversation.

But Seri's years of patience snap. She sighs frustratedly. "Stop being an idiot, Hannie! How much more obvious do you need it to be?!"

"You're so dense it's infuriating! I practically gift-wrapped a scenario for you, setting you up with the apartment, the resort trip, making you play house, and you still can't see it?!" Her voice rises an octave, but what makes Jeonghan flinch is her words. "You even got a letter from her! How could you just ignore it? How could you not remember it after seeing her again now? How can you not see even your feelings?"

Seri keeps on rambling, but Jeonghan freezes, his entire body going rigid. The color drains from his face. His eyes, wide with sudden, desperate confusion, fix on Seri as he walks closer to her, his throat lodged with a painful lump.

"What letter?" he asks, the words catching in his throat. Seri’s constant babbling stops, and she looks up at him blankly, trying to take in his two-word question. "What letter, Seri?!"

“She mailed you a letter.”

“I never got a letter!”

Oh, hell no.

The apartment is suffocatingly silent after Seri left, having left Jeonghan standing amidst the half-unpacked boxes, the photo album lying open on the floor. He doesn't even remember closing the door behind her.

He walks slowly, numbly, to the photo album. His eyes find the picture Seri pointed out—you, laughing, radiant, and oblivious to the young, watchful boy in the background watching you like you're his whole world. And then another picture, and another. It's undeniable. He sees it now, a pattern woven through years he never bothered to truly examine.

His head spins, tumbling through a lifetime of moments. The way he always found himself drawn to your corner of the classroom. The strange comfort of your voice, even when you were just talking about homework. The quiet pride he felt when you excelled, the vague unease when you talked about other boys. The way he’d unconsciously seek you out in crowded hallways, just to make sure you were there.

Then the gaping void of the seven years you were gone. He hadn't even given a name to whatever it was that he felt whenever he thought of you in that time, but now that he thinks, he often thinks of you. It was a constant, low-grade ache, a missing piece he hadn’t known how to name.

And now. His illogical anger at Joshua. The way he’d craved your attention, your laughter, your very presence. The way your head felt against his cheek after the first kiss, and the need to kiss you again at the pool, an excuse already forming on his tongue before he even asked.

His heart clenches with a sickening mix of regret and realization. He’d been so stupid. So incredibly, utterly blind. He loved you. He always had—a love that had been there all along, hiding in plain sight, waiting for him to finally wake up. And he had wasted years.

Now, you've drawn a line. You’re done with his plans, done with the pretense. His chest aches with his emotions, and all he wishes is to run to you, but he feels motionless.

Have his years of stupidity, his inability to see what was right in front of him, finally cost him the very person he never realized he couldn't live without?

After a whole day of overthinking and trying to reach out to you, Jeonghan has traveled to his hometown, a place he hadn't thought about in years, driven by a raw, consuming urgency he barely recognizes as his own.

Jeonghan stands in front of his old house building, a faded brick structure that looks exactly as he remembers it. At the door stands Mr. Choi, the landlord whom his father was annoyed with back in the day. The older man has more wrinkles around his eyes, and he looks like he wants to throw a brick at Jeonghan for waking him up with his incessant knocking.

He surprisingly recognizes Jeonghan though, claiming his father still visits often and has shown pictures of his kids.

Jeonghan takes a deep breath, trying to keep his voice steady. "Mr. Choi, I know it's a long shot, but I'm looking for a letter. It would have been sent around seven years ago, to this address, after I moved out." He tries to sound calm, but his voice wavers slightly. "It's very important. Did you... Did you ever get any misdirected mail for me? Anything you held onto?"

Mr. Choi snorts, adjusting his glasses. "Seven years? Are you daft, boy? Mail forwarding lasts a year, maybe two if you're lucky. I don't keep old junk like that. People move on. You should too." He makes a dismissive gesture.

"Please, Mr. Choi," Jeonghan presses, an uncharacteristic desperation creeping into his tone. He steps closer, trying to convey the gravity of the situation. "This isn't just... some old thing. It's really, truly important. If there's any chance, any clue at all. If you remember anything, please. It would mean everything to me." His voice is almost pleading, etched with a raw vulnerability that would surprise anyone who knew his usual reserved nature.

Mr. Choi sighs frantically, then turns and shuffles into the dimly lit storage room behind the reception desk. Jeonghan's heart soars with a fragile hope.

A moment later, the old man reappears, dragging a dusty, battered cardboard box. He unceremoniously dumps it onto the worn linoleum floor in front of Jeonghan. "AI might have kept some of the truly misplaced stuff from a decade ago. Don't know why. It's a jumble. Take a look. You'll be lucky if you find anything." He grumbles, then shuffles back to his desk, pointedly ignoring Jeonghan.

Jeonghan's hands tremble slightly as he sinks to the floor beside the box. Dust motes dance in the sliver of sunlight filtering through the window. He starts sifting through the contents – old utility bills for long-gone tenants, faded advertisements, forgotten flyers, and indeed, a few yellowed envelopes addressed to names he doesn't recognize. He digs with a racing heart, hope battling against despair. His fingers cramp, his eyes strain, but he pushes on, driven by the profound need for answers, for understanding, for you.

Just as he's about to give up, his fingers brush against something soft, slightly crumpled, at the very bottom. He pulls it out. It's a pink envelope with cute little hearts drawn on it. The paper is yellowed at the edges, the corners soft with age, but the handwriting... your handwriting and his name, carefully penned, is still there.

Jeonghan feels like he's stopped breathing. He runs a thumb over the envelope, his chest tightening. With trembling fingers, he tears open the seal. The paper inside is thin, folded simply. He unfolds it, his eyes scanning the words, your words, pouring out from seven years ago.

"Hello, Jeonghan. I hope you're having a good time and everything's well. It took me a lot of courage to write this, read it all over again, and finally have it sent to you. This is nothing serious or something grand, but I want to say thank you for taking your time to read this. You might toss it away in the trash can after, but I hope you don't belittle whatever I'm about to write.

I like you. I have been liking you since last year. It's very childish to be saying this to someone I've never interacted with (I wish we did) and I'm surprised that I'm finally saying this to you. Even if it's just through a piece of paper, it's still genuine and harmless. You'll probably laugh or roll your eyes at the way I'm writing this, but I seriously hope for nothing in return.

This is taking everything in me to say this, but thank you for making me hate Sundays or weekends and love Mondays or days when I could see you. I think you might remember the numerous times we had eye contact or you might have caught me stealing glances at you now and then.

I'm not sure about this, but my friends told you about a girl in their class having a crush on you (and it was none other than me)

I am writing this with no hopes but I do expect an answer for my clarity of mind. Thank you.”

- Y/N

He sees your young heart laid bare, waiting and hoping from all those years ago. The sincerity of it hits him like a harsh wave, making his heart clench in an unfamiliar ache.

If someone were to tell him that he'd ever cry over a letter, he'd not believe them. However, he feels hot and stinging tears blur the words on the page.

The sheer force of his emotions and the painful clarity of what he'd missed, overwhelms him. Yoon Jeonghan sits there on the dusty floor, utterly broken and utterly, finally, aware.

Jeonghan [💌]: Hi, Y/N. I know I suck, and I know you said you didn't want to be a part of my plans anymore. I respect that, but I wish you could hang out with me just once. I have something to say to you. You can say no, it's up to you. But it'd be nice if you could hear me out. Have a nice day.

Your fingers hover over the keyboard. A part of you, the part that's been broken and hurting, wants to just say no, to cut ties cleanly. But the foolish part, the part that still aches for him, can't resist. You type a single word: Alright.

And then the next day, you stand outside your apartment building, your heart pounds with a mix of dread and a dangerous hope.

Jeonghan's car pulls up a second later, and he steps out, looking different. Your breath hitches at the way his hair is styled to expose his forehead, and his outfit comprises a sleek black turtleneck, paired with a jacket. It's not even a lot chilly, but you remember he gets cold easily, so you swallow thickly and let him open the passenger door for you.

He's not a mess of nerves like you'd seen him lately. He's rather relaxed and composed like the Jeonghan who first walked into your bakery a few months ago.

You slide in, his usual scent filling the space. He walks around and gets in, starting the car without another word. You keep your gaze fixed on the blurring city lights, battling the urge to look at him, to acknowledge anything that's flowing between you. “Where are we going?”

“It's a surprise.” He says, with a brief smile directed towards you. Something about him feels entirely new today, but you can't pinpoint what exactly. So you try to think of other things, a silly joke Seokmin told you the other day, or the time Eunha fell in front of the elevator.

Jeoneghan turns on the music to kill the silence, and you don't realize when you fall asleep.

You wake to a soft voice calling your name. "Y/N. We're here."

You blink, disoriented, as you realize the car isn't moving. You push yourself upright, stretching the stiffness from your neck. The car door opens, and the cool night air rushes in. You step out, your eyes scanning the surroundings, and you instantly freeze.

You're back.

The familiar street, lined with old, leafy trees. The worn pavement beneath your feet. The cozy, old-fashioned houses that haven't changed in years. Your hometown. The place where you grew up, where you and Jeonghan went to school together.

He closes the car door softly. "I'm... I'm sorry to bring you out here," he says, his voice a little strained. He reaches out, his fingers finding yours, interlacing them gently. “And I'm sorry for this too,” he gently presses your hand, “But I want to take you somewhere.”

He stares at you for a second longer in case you want to pull away from him, but you don't. You’re confused, but some hints are tickling your brain about what might come.

Once he's sure you're not pulling away from him, he starts walking, slowly, pulling you along a familiar path.

A minute later, he stops. You look up to see the gate of your old middle school. The very place where your story began, where your childish crush on him had first blossomed.

You have a feeling where this is going. A terrifying, beautiful, impossible hope bubbles up in your chest, but you quickly suppress it. You can't. Not after all this time. You won't hope. You won't ask. You'll just wait for him to speak.

He turns to face you, his hand still holding yours. His eyes, usually so guarded, are open, vulnerable, filled with a raw emotion that makes your heart ache. He takes a deep breath and smiles briefly at you.

"Y/N," he begins, his hand slipping into the pocket of his jacket and taking out an old, yellow envelope. He extends it towards you with a nervous smile. “Can you give this to me?”

Your heart stops beating.

You could recognise this darn envelope anywhere.

Your hand shakes, and your eyes shift between the old paper and Jeonghan's still-smiling face. Your mouth is dry when he softly hands you the envelope, closing your hand around it.

No. This isn't what you've been thinking. Is he about to mock you? Is he about to laugh at your face?

“Give it to me, Y/N. Like you wanted to all those years ago.” He says, and his voice is so gentle that you feel your nerves calming automatically. You mouth a no, shaking your head and trying to utter a few more words but you fail.

Jeonghan takes a step closer to you, holding your face in his hands and softly leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. You feel all your senses numbing as you stare up at him wide-eyed while he still smiles at you. “I'm willing to receive your letter, angel. Will you please bestow me the honor of having it?”

It's safe to say that you've never been more speechless than this in your whole life. Not even when you ranked first in high school and not even when you first opened your bakery. No emotion compares to the feeling you're experiencing right now, staring at the man you've loved for years, telling you to tell him you love him.

Your hand moves on its own, timidly extending the yellowed envelope towards him. His smile widens, kick-starting your heart with a force as he takes it from you.

Your empty hand is soon filled with another envelope, relatively newer and crisper. It says, To Y/N in Jeonghan's handwriting. You stare up at him, blinking. He cocks his head forward, eyeing the letter in your hand. “Read it.”

“You…you haven't read mine?” You ask, your voice not more than a whisper. Jeonghan sighs. “You mailed it to the wrong address. It was a task finding it after so many years. I've read it, and I know your heart from seven years ago.”

It's still my heart, you want to say, but you don't. You're red and hot as you wet your lips, sucking in a deep breath. “Read my heart, angel.” He says, and you shut your eyes tight. “Don't call me that.”

“Why?”

You don't want to say that it makes your heart race, so you just shift a little, pulling out the letter from the envelope.

“Hi, Y/N.

I'm very late in answering you, but if I had received your letter, I would've run to you. Or maybe not, because I've been a blind coward all my life.

Not anymore, though. Because I've come to terms with a few facts.

Number 1: I love you.

Number 2: You're very special to me.

And number 3: I cannot pretend that there's nothing between us.

I know this may be sudden, and unbelievable, but I want you to trust me on this. You can take your time to think if you need but know that I'm always going to be here. There's no other place for me in this world. I belong to you, and I'm always gonna come back to you one way or another.

I promise I'll never hurt you, and I'll try to be the best boyfriend you could've ever asked for. After all the pain you've had to go through, you probably hate me, and to be fair, I don't even deserve someone as amazing as you. But I'd be grateful if you gave me a chance.

I've loved you for as long as I've known you. I'm sorry I was blind about it.

— Yours, Jeonghan.”

You gasp in a few breaths, folding the paper with trembling hands. This cannot be real. Your heart pounds wildly against your chest, and when you finally stare up at him with glistening eyes, you see a lone tear escape Jeonghan's eye that he quickly wipes.

“Will you give me a chance, Y/N?”

Hell, you'd be a fool not to.

You don't even try. Your head nods once, like your body and soul already belong to him. There's so much you're feeling at the moment, but the only emotion that overrides everything is love.

You feel so much love for the man in front of you that you don't even realize when you tiptoe and wrap your arms around his neck. Your lips find his with ease, and his arms pull you closer by your waist, as if he's also been starving for this.

For you.

“I love you so much,” you whisper against his lips, letting your tears fall down your cheeks. You've kept these words in for so long that now all you want is to keep saying them. “I love you, Jeonghan.”

He pulls away from you, softly wiping your tears away. There's a blinding smile on his face that makes you smile too, in disbelief, in love, in ecstasy.

“I love you too, Y/N.” He says, making your heart stop and restart. You push yourself off of him, shutting your eyes and breathing in deeply. “Wow.”

“Wow. Is this…is this happening? Is this real?”

Jeonghan chuckles, grabbing your wrist and pulling you closer to him. “Don't go away from me, angel” he whispers, tucking a hair strand behind your ear.

Yeah, you're not sure if you can go on with this new relationship without going insane.

“Don't make my heart race,” you whisper back, making him chuckle again. His lips are on yours again, and you've finally found the meaning of euphoria.

Jeonghan loves you back, and that's all the happiness you need in this life.

taglist: @hannah81141418 @zealouscookierebeltrash @tokitosun @woncheecks @http-seishu @lily409 @fragmentof-indifference @giverosespls @haotelmania @viciousdarlings @nowtheluckyone @armycarat2612

#i officially claim shingi as mine #I MEAN SHE WAS #BUT SHE IS ULTIMATE WIFEY NOW #pov: when u pull up to the 'thinking ive moved on' competition but im ur opp #(you've lost b4 the game even starts)#shingi might NOT be one of us bcz she ACTUALLY cares for people around her and ISNT fake.#AND LMFAO MY FAMILY IS CONCERNED BCZ I WAS CRYING SO HARD #guys pls manifest this exact life for me in the future after 7 years plsplsplspslspslspssp #I MANIFEST YOU FINE SHYT FOREVER #No but like #when reader said “i love you so much”#i felt that deep in my heart bcz HELL YEAH I DO DUDE #I HAVE BEEN SINCE I WAS 13 YO OLD #JST UR STUPID DUMB AHH HAD TO CHANGE SCHOOLS #aND NOW IM NOT EVEN GONNA BE IN THE SAME CITY AS YOU MF #UGH #Thank you my love my baby my sunshine my life my fav hannie stan #shingi shingi shingi #we say in unison.#READ THIS OR ILL FCKING GO ON A KILLING SPREE THIS FRIDAY NO JOKE

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kimakento · 6 months ago

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this is genuinely so crazy 😭😭

#when you pull up to the ‘worst procrastinator’ competition and your opponent is user kimakento on tumblr…#💭 — kimafay things

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hellokittyish · 7 months ago

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★ thinking about suguru being your academic rival, the unspoken competition between you beginning on the very first day of college when the advanced calculus professor handed out a brain teaser to help everyone settle in, only for you and suguru to be the only students able to solve it. the problem?

he finished it a second before you did.

and from then on, the two of you would compare everything: average GPA score, exam grades, pop quiz results, who could make the other cum quicker — oh yeah… how could you forget to mention the part where somewhere along the way, the tension between you managed to leak from the classroom into the bedroom. oops.

so that’s how you find yourself in your current position of trying to take suguru down your throat while he simultaneously attempts to ruin your focus by flicking the tip of his annoyingly talented tongue over your swollen clit.

“aww, is someone struggling?” he purrs, violet eyes boring into the back of your head while he continues his languid licks through your embarrassingly wet folds. “y’know… this could all be over right now if you just admit that you can’t keep up with me.”

“s-shut up,” you grumble weakly, briefly pulling off of his cock to speak with a lewd string of saliva connecting your heaving lips to the thick head. “i can keep up just fine.”

“oh, really?” he drawls, tone dripping with condescension while he trails a slender finger down the curve of your spine, causing your body to arch instinctively and sink down even further onto his mouth in response. “is that why you’re giving me a blowjob so bad that i’d think it was your first time if i didn’t know any better, hm?”

instead of using your mouth to shoot back another sharp retort; you decide to put it to better use by inhaling a deep, steadying breath and lowering it down on suguru’s length once again, taking him right to the base and fighting the urge to gag as his fat tip rubs against the back of your throat.

“s-shit,” he hisses through clenched teeth, his own ministrations forgotten entirely as his hips involuntarily buck upwards into your mouth. “if you don’t stop that i’m g-gonna fuckin’ cum.”

determined to make him lose control before you do, you start to bob your head up and down on his girth as fast as you can. but just when you begin to let yourself believe that you’re guaranteed to win this round, he pulls out one last trick from up his sleeve.

he bites your clit, sharp canines grazing the sensitive bud in a way that causes your throat to clamp down on his cock and your vision to flash white for a few long moments as your climax suddenly washes over you — but he’s faring no better either, a low groan spilling from his lips as thick ropes of his cum spurt straight down your throat.

“huh. guess we can call this round a tie then,” suguru hums in a frustratingly casual manner, pushing some stray raven hairs back from his forehead and flashing you a cat-like smile as you peer at him dazedly over your shoulder. “what do you say we make it the best of out of three tonight, hm?”

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kurooh · 9 months ago

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MATCH MY FREAK ★ JUJUTSU KAISEN

⊹₊˚. featuring gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji, & kamo choso tryin’ to keep up with their freak of a girlfriend.

warnings. 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, hair pulling, overstimulation, rough sex, oral, passing out, spitting, some degradation, squirting, public sex, light slapping, choking. | 3.4k words of FILTH

xoxo, juno. needed characterization practice loll. comment & rb if you enjoyed <33

GOJO SATORU # matches you

“aw, you’re so cute when you’re slutting yourself out for my fucking cock, baby,” satoru coos, lips trailing over your pebbled nipples while his tip teases your messy cunt. it was a mistake, deciding to play a stupid game of chicken with him—the gist of the game was to tease one another, and see who’d give up first.

you’d overestimated yourself just a little; you both ended up fully naked, with satoru on top of you and unwilling to let you go so you could make a fair move. but of course, you didn’t want to give up, and neither did he—it doesn’t even matter, not when he’s winning the game like this.

you bite down on your lower lip, weakly closing your thighs in an attempt to push him back to even out the playing field. “oh, is this the first sign of defeat, baby?”

“absolutely not,” you hiss, brows knitting when he tosses your thighs apart and nudges his tip inside you. “you cheated, i can’t even make a fair move.”

“all’s fair in a game of chicken and sex. don’t complain, ‘s not my fault you overestimated yourself.” satoru’s snicker has your heels digging into his lower back as you force him to push his cock inside you; his expression melts into one of pure euphoria as he sinks in, inch by inch.

“how’s that, satoru?” you purr, satisfied. he glares at you, azure eyes hooded and heavy with lust; without even slipping out of you, he flips you over onto your stomach and presses your head into the sheets. beneath the two of you, the bed groans, creaking growing loud as he moves his hips, slamming into you so hard the headboard bangs against the wall.

“got some nerve . . thinking you could show me how to fuck, tsk,” he shakes his head, punctuating his words with harsh thrusts.

“fuck!” you sob, fingers scrabbling for purchase on his waist to pause him for a moment. you’re still thinking about the game, but satoru’s aching for more after having been teased for so long.

“give up and just focus on cumming for me, babygirl,” he grunts into your ear, savoring the gasps you can’t seem to stop letting out. his balls slap into your clit, and the room fills with the filthy sound of fucking—skin against skin, groaning, and begging.

you can’t even form one thought about being competitive when satoru’s fucking every single thing out of your head. “r-right there, toru,” you wail, arching upwards and pressing your ass against him.

satoru gifts it with a smack that rings through the room, then lifts your lips up and doesn’t even give you a second to adjust to the new angle that has you taking his cock both deeper and faster. just when you think you can’t take any more, satoru slips a hand beneath your body and plants his palm firmly against your lower stomach.

“eh, what’re you doing?” wordlessly, satoru draws his hips back until only his tip is left inside you, then presses down with his hand before canting his hips forward. it’s too much—you all but scream as he mercilessly plunges into you again and again.

your body is slick with sweat and only growing hotter by the moment; the sound of his rough panting coupled with the occasional whine he lets out only has you burying your face deeper into the sheets.

satoru clicks his tongue, voice shaking ever so slightly. “arch it for me, baby—fuckkk, that’s perfect.”

he’s delirious with pleasure, eyes rolling back into his head while his face only flushes a darker pink from the heat of it all. that was the thing about him — he could always dish it out, and take it, but not for long.

“i-i’m gonna cum,” and his voice splinters into a whine at the end of his sentence, spurring you on to fuck him back. you’re tossing your hips back onto him, bouncing your ass so deliciously he wants to take a bite. “shit, i’m gonna cum.”

“give it to me, satoru,” you manage, turning back at the right moment. icy blue eyes connect with yours and he uselessly blinks away the tears that are gathered on his waterline, only for a few to spill over and run down his cheeks. “cum inside me, make it yours, toru.”

with a groan of your name, satoru’s abs clench as he spills inside you, cock twitching against your cervix. he presses down harder on your lower stomach, drawing out your own orgasm.

“just like that, toru—” you interrupt yourself with a moan as your pussy gushes all over, spraying onto his pelvis and cock.

“that’s my girl,” satoru groans, lightly smacking your clit and chuckling at the way your entire body trembles in response. “by the way, the game was a tie.”

GETO SUGURU # matches you

“open. good girl,” suguru spits onto your awaiting tongue, violet eyes observing expectantly as you swallow. his spit tastes like the grape lollipop he’d been sliding between his lips on your walk around the city together. now, in the backseat of his car, he’s got you caged beneath him, gripping your jaw with one large hand.

“you’re so cute, really,” suguru says with a snort, lightly smacking at your cheek. “your idea of a date is going around and flirting as much as possible. hm, ‘s like you were trying to piss me off, end up like this in the car. you know how busy this place is, don’t you?”

“i don’t care,” you pout, tugging the hem of your shirt upwards to reveal your stomach; he doesn’t stop you as you slide your shorts halfway down, revealing the lace of the panties you’re wearing, all for him. “just touch me, sugu. please?”

“you’re so needy,” he scoffs, although his voice lilts into a willing tone as he unbuttons your shorts and inches backwards to allow you to toss your legs over his shoulders.

suguru’s dark hair is soft from the premium shampoos and conditioners he uses meticulously; half of it was tied up in a tight bun while the rest flowed freely past his shoulders. until you pulled his hair free from its ties and gathered the silky tresses between your fingers, impatiently tugging him towards the place you needed him most.

“would it kill you to be patient?” suguru’s question is genuine as he leaves open mouthed kisses on the tender skin of your inner thighs, nipping lightly to tease you a little more.

“yes,” you huff, fingers relaxing in his hair as he moves closer to your already messy pussy, reveling in the sight of his favorite snack (dessert?).

“shit,” suguru’s voice is strained as he feels arousal resonate through his entire body, causing his temperature and heart rate to spike. “you’re fucking soaked, princess.”

“what’re you waiting for?” you moan, frustrated by the sight of his tongue as he speaks, eager to feel him use it on you.

he ignores you then, opting to land a light slap to your pussy. the force of his palm coming down on your already sensitive clit sends sparks of pleasure through the entire lower half of your body, eliciting a drawn out whine from your lips.

“s-spit on it,” you manage, squirming beneath his heavy gaze. he’s practically burning holes into your skin with those pretty purple eyes of his.

“you want it realll bad, don’t you?” suguru’s tone is nothing short of mocking as he continues to stay a frustrating distance away from your cunt.

frantic for his touch, for him—your hips jolt upwards, and you cry out when he shoves them back down easily. “come on, sugu—i can handle it.”

“yeah? you won’t tap out this time?”

“god, i-i want you to ruin me.”

the admission pulls a laugh from between his lips, and yet he doesn’t waste any time diving forward to devour you. suguru’s tongue strokes up your folds, collecting your wetness at the tip before darting forward to push inside you. the action is meant to tease, to piss you off, and it does.

“d-don’t do this right now, sugu,” your fingers tighten in his hair as you pull him forward insistently.

“alright, alright,” his lips move against your lower pair and he slides his hands beneath your ass to scoop you closer. in a matter of seconds; suguru’s got his whole mouth on you now, sucking and licking and slurping obscenely. the wet noises fill the car, coupled with your shared moans.

tasting you and hearing you is all he really needs to be satisfied; the way you’re tugging on his hair is painful at first, but it quickly becomes something that has him moaning louder than you. that was his achilles heel—his hair, of all things. when pulled just right, or brushed gently, he couldn’t ever stop himself from making those low, yet pretty sounds of his. sometimes his scalp would grow sensitive after a while, and his grunts would turn into pitched moans he couldn’t control.

without a care for the many people passing by the parked car, your back arches off the backseat, tits bouncing deliciously beneath your shirt. “‘m close, sugu—just like that, d-don’t stop!”

he inserts a single finger inside you, filling you up and stretching you out nicely. then, he curls it deeply, prodding against that sweet spot of yours. he’d committed all the places that’d make you tick to memory, and this happened to be one of the top three. suguru’s cheeks darken from the heat of it all as he sucks your clit between his lips and lavishes it with attention from his tongue.

it’s as soft as silk and yet so rough as it drags up and down the swollen bud. your hips jolt upwards again and again, body thrashing as the white hot pleasure circulates throughout your insides, pooling deep in your stomach. the knot frays with each passing second, your toes curling as you hurtle closer to euphoria.

“s-suguru,” you moan. he looks up at the right time to see your eyes rolling back as you dissolve into pleasure. “‘m gonna cum, i—”

your brain short circuits as the knot inside you snaps, cunt squeezing hard around his finger and fluttering as he draws it backwards. your clit hardens beneath his tongue, and he moans from the sensation, the vibrations making you jerk.

suguru’s kind enough to let you ride it out, fingers gripping his hair to the point of potential baldness. he doesn’t mind, especially not when you squeak out a blissed out, dazed “t-thank you, sugu.”

NANAMI KENTO # doesn’t match you yet

“fucking—shit, angel, slow down,” kento swallows a whine, trying not to beg. his head tips back, strands of his blonde hair escaping their neat gel hold and falling over his forehead. “come on, you’re going too fast.”

his pleas fall on deaf ears as you smirk and lean in towards that sweet, sensitive spot on his neck that always has him seeing stars once it’s touched the right way. you giggle against his skin, leaving a few wet kisses along his neck before sinking your teeth. the bite is entirely playful, but his abs clench tightly against you and he sucks in a breath.

the couch is creaking loudly from the ferocious and aggressive way you’re riding him, hips slamming into his without a single concern for how sensitive he is from prior orgasms. uncharacteristic whines pour from his lips along with heaving pants of your name as kento frantically searches for purchase on your hips.

“what’s wrong, kento?” you purr, kissing away the drool from the corners of his lips. he’s got hearts in his eyes from the chaste action; the dichotomy between the sweetness and nastiness is so overwhelming . . kento’s fingers dig into the plush skin at your hips as he tries to stop you.

“n-no need to go so fast. let me guide you instead, princess,” but he’s really just trying to save himself the embarrassment of cumming again and sobbing from the overstimulation.

kento’s neck absorbs the soft moans you let out as he moves your hips at a much slower, languid pace. “fuck, ken, ‘s good . . little faster, please?”

he tugs his lower lip between his teeth. “be patient. just keep your eyes on me, angel.”

“but it - it’s not enough,” and your hips increase, returning to the beginning of your wild pace. the loud squelching sound of your pussy and the smacks of skin against skin drown out whatever he says next, but he seems to accept it. his cheeks are flushed and his face is covered in a sheen of sweat, and although he’d been desperate for reprieve earlier he’s accepting being ridden like a horse now.

each drag of your sticky cunt on his cock pulls plenty of sound from the both of you. this is the first time you’ve ever ridden his cock—first time anyone has ever—and all of his concerns are melting away as he fully submits to you. to your cunt—he’s completely pussydrunk.

“shit, angel,” he swallows, body bowing forward as he presses his face into your chest, allowing your tits to smack against his cheeks. “i-i’m gonna cum again—i don’t think i can anymore after this, you’ll have to—”

you tilt his chin upwards and connect your lips to his, swallowing the sounds he makes as he comes undone. you can only tremble as his cock throbs inside you, and his head falls against you weakly after he lets out a choked groan.

“ken, feels so fucking good,” you sob, fingernails raking over the taut muscles of his back. those marks will sting tomorrow under his suit, a sultry reminder of you. his breaths come in harsh pants against your skin, and he makes no move to pull away as you ride him to completion.

you’re sore, and the room is hot and smelling of nothing but sex, but you’re too close to stop. there’s no need to give a warning as your cunt spasms on him, squeezing his cock so hard he’s pushed out of you. the loss of fulfillment makes you hiss, and you nudge him lightly, helping him sit back.

kento has passed out — he’s quite literally fucked out, eyes closed and all as his chest rapidly rises and falls. of course, his swollen cock still stands at attention between his legs, tip prodding against you.

FUSHIGURO TOJI # is freakier

“run that by me again, doll. i dare ya.”

toji’s voice is low and deep as it rumbles from his chest, his raspy demand sending a hot rush of excitement right between your legs. “t-toji,” is all you can squeak out, legs spreading weakly as he tosses them to the side to make more room. “i-i said, i can’t keep going—”

fushiguro toji was not a patient man, nor was he someone who tolerated quitting or giving up in any kind of way, regardless of the situation. the idea of you attempting to tap out this early after teasing him all fucking day truly flipped a switch in his brain. it honestly set him off, like a spark of fire to a stick of dynamite.

“aw, just shut up, baby,” toji twists a hand into your hair and yanks your head backwards, leaning close to savor the sight of your arched back as well as to speak directly into your ear. his breath ghosts over the shell of your ear, making the skin hotter. “ya really thought that’d work? after all that shit you pulled today?”

“i didn’t mean to get you so worked up—” a nip to your earlobe silences you immediately, and a moan slips from between your lips, betraying the genuineness of your request.

“listen to you . . ya want to get fucked like a whore, isn’t that right?” toji hisses, rocking his hips forward and nudging his cock deeper in your tight cunt. the sensitivity is killer, but toji doesn’t care about that—it’s simply an excuse.

“you deserve this, dollface. can take one more, can’t you?”

with your hair wrapped around his fist, back forced into an arch, legs spread wide, there’s no other way you can answer him besides saying yes. always testing the waters with him, but toji would amp it up and have you crying by the time it was all over.

you let your head hang, lifting your hips to help him out; the sound of slick bodies smacking against one another coupled with his heavy panting is enough to have you whining his name, tears streaking down your cheeks. your hand slips between your legs to rub at your swollen clit since you know he’s too annoyed to do it for you.

behind you, toji arches a brow but says nothing, opting to fuck you harder. his heavy balls slam into your fingers, messing up your movements—but are they really? the impact adds a new, chaotic element to your pleasure, making you moan louder.

“fuckkk,” toji tosses his head back, beads of sweat rolling down his temples and forehead as a familiar ache in his side grows from all the exertion. “i can’t hear ya, doll . . make some noise for me.”

ever the mind reader—the words were on the tip of your tongue before his comment. “k-keep going—wanna cum for you, toji, please!”

he lets out a snicker, using his free hand to gift your ass with an especially harsh smack. “not just yet, got that? you’ll cum when i say so, doll face.”

KAMO CHOSO # matches you

“h-harder, oh my—fuck.” choso’s voice cracks at the end of his sentence, eyebrows knitting together as tears gather at the corners of his eyes. he cradles you close to his body, hands splayed on your shoulder blades as he savors the feeling of your own wrapped around his neck.

“i didn’t know you’d like this,” you say, kissing away the tears from his eyes and brushing the stray hairs from his face.

“you’re always asking me to c-choke you,” choso grunts, eyes rolling back deliciously as his cock twitches inside you.

it was true. he’d finally gotten curious enough to ask you why you enjoyed having his hands wrapped around your neck during your sexual experiences together. he’d always been interested to learn more about your kinks and interests, regardless of whatever it was. sometimes it’s a hit or miss, but oftentimes . . he enjoys letting you take the lead and show him how you like it.

you’re seated on his lap, cock buried deep and somehow not soft despite his prior orgasms, many of which are leaking from your cunt onto his thighs. choso’s never been afraid to get messy, as evidenced by the dried spit covering the bite marks and hickeys all over your neck.

“you look perfect like this, cho,” you coo, words sounding extra honeyed to his oxygen deprived brain. “you’re sure this isn’t too tight?”

ever the masochist, he nods, tilting his head to the side and offering the tender skin of his jaw and neck for you to mark up. you accept choso’s invitation, hands loosening as you pepper kisses along his sweaty skin.

he smells like his nice, soft shampoo mixed with your perfume. you can feel his racing pulse beneath your lips, and he savors the way you smile against his skin before nipping at it.

“ah, baby,” choso moans, hair slipping into his face again, “need you to—need you to ride me.”

“anything for you,” is your loving reply, spoken into the softness of his cheek, which is flushed a dark red. you rock your hips against his, hands loosening again as you indulge in the delicious sensation of being full. because of your movements, more cum pools on his thighs, hot and sticky from being inside you for so long.

“i’m..” choso gulps, an uncontrollable whimper slipping from his throat to interrupt him. “‘m gonna cum—t-take all of it for me, please baby.”

“mhm,” you moan into his neck, the fresh bite marks sticky with spit as they press against your lips. “give it to me, cho. a-all of it . . everything.”

choso cums to your words. his cock spurts ribbons of white inside you, so deep you wonder how long it’ll take to pour out, and his head falls back, entirely spent. his breaths come in heaving puffs, face flushed and sticky with sweat, but he still manages to look at you.

exhausted, he pants, “you didn’t cum, did you?”

you shake your head with a small smile, fingers grazing over where you’d been gripping his neck. “‘s okay, you’re pretty tired. maybe later?”

deep inside, you hope choso will offer to get you off anyway. a lovesick, dazed grin spreads across his lips and he lightly nudges you backwards.

“come on, lay on your back for me.”

“why, cho? you’re exh—”

choso shushes you, pushing you back more insistently. “i want to make my pretty girl cum on my tongue. lay down, please?”

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deathofacupid · 1 month ago

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★ STRAWBERRIES AND CIGARETTES. all the times gojo desperately wants to kiss you, and the one where he finally does.

ft. satoru gojo x reader.

warnings — loser!reader / popular!gojo. smoking, kissing + making out. consumption of alcohol, mentions of sex, lots of cheesy banter. sato is a man down bad ! slow-burn kinda but mostly just very sfw fluff :p

(呪術廻戦) : note — 7k words + in my fluff era again awooga

୨୧ ⌞ act one: strawberry shampoo. ⌝

gojo rarely sees you. not often, truly. in class is different, but even then, it's infrequent.

you always wear a bored, distant look, as if you'd rather be anywhere but here. he suspects you simply don't care. the professor's words wash over you, in one ear and out the other.

most people don't notice your frequent absences. gojo does. he always does. the empty seat at the back of the room never escapes his eye.

it feels emptier, too, despite your quiet nature. he's unsure why. why he's so captivated by you. but when you are present, he stares. trying to be subtle, yet desperate to memorize every detail: the curve of your lashes, the perceived softness of your lips.

perceived softness, he should clarify. gojo isn't a creep. he doesn't spend every waking moment fantasizing about kissing you. (only every other waking moment.)

he knows you know he exists. you've exchanged words a few times, straddling the line between acquaintance and stranger. it's odd, but he finds a strange peace when you converse.

you're funny, kind, caring. a good listener, with a voice like honey he could listen to all day. god, he loves your voice. he wishes you'd speak more. if you did, people would listen. there's a lilt in your voice that makes him.

he's your opposite. you keep to yourself, wired earbuds always in. gojo has friends — many friends. he thrives on company and conversation.

he's got his whole crew: nanami, shoko, geto, haibara, utahime. even toji and sukuna, on a good day.

academically, he's a powerhouse. top of the class, loaded with extracurriculars, tests always returned with a perfect score.

and you? you're number two. he's certain you could be first, but you simply don't care. no ambition to be the best, no need to prove yourself.

you're just… there. you show up, ace your exams, and leave. he'd be threatened by the competition, but you don't seem to want it. he doubts you even realize how close you are to taking his spot.

it's infuriating. so much potential, so little drive.

yet, it's utterly enticing. you're enticing.

it's a shock when he pulls into the gas station in the dead of night, needing kikufuku because geto devoured the last of it, and there you are. perched on the ledge behind the worn building.

he doesn't see your face at first, but he recognizes the leather angel kiss bag you practically live with, adorned with sonny angels and charms.

the grocery bag falls limply in his hand. he takes a few steps, stopping just behind you. he calls your name out, quiet and hesitant, a rare tone for gojo. there's a crinkle of foil from you, and you turn, startled.

"gojo?" you inquire, head tilted.

"uh, hey," he manages a gentle smile. "what're you doing here?"

a small smile touches your lips. "hi. i could ask you the same."

the white-haired boy chuckles. "dickhead roommate ate all my snacks."

your quiet laugh is beautiful, he thinks. "yeah? well, i ran out of cigarettes." you place one between your lips. sliding over on the ledge, you offer a silent invitation, which he accepts.

you're close. the scent of your saccharine strawberry shampoo fills his senses.

"want one?" you offer. he shakes his head. gojo doesn't smoke, rarely drinks. instead, he watches you inhale, then exhale, wispy gray curls dissolving into the dark.

the silence between you is mellow, not awkward. in the dim streetlamp glow, your lips look coated in strawberry-red gloss, leaving a stain on the white of the cigarette.

"sure you don't want a hit?" you ask, sensing his heavy, focused gaze.

and because he'd do anything at the sound of that voice, he nods, changing his mind.

satoru gojo has game, no doubt. one hundred percent. he's smooth with women, but you're not just any woman. you're you, and with you, his game dissolves. all his past charm feels irrelevant, meaningless.

it's just you. you and him. he's not sure how to navigate it, and his attempt only leaves him embarrassed.

his eyes fix on the red smudge. he presses his own lips directly onto that spot. this isn't even a kiss, but an odd euphoria floods him, as if he's never kissed anyone before.

gojo's eyes flutter shut. he takes a quick, deep inhale, lasting only seconds before he's spluttering, coughing. a dry, charcoal-like feeling enters his lungs, leaving his throat dry. "jesus," he winces, handing it back.

you giggle, not teasing, but amused. he echoes the sound, and you both dissolve into laughter.

at two in the morning, everything's funny. your hands brush his as you take the cigarette.

"a— are you okay?" you ask, trying to compose yourself.

"yeah!" he clears his throat. "i mean, yeah. yes. i'm good."

"never smoked?"

"nah. coach would kill me," he chuckles, and you hum. sometimes, he forgets he's that picture-perfect, well-rounded student. in these moments, everything else fades.

"yeah," you say, meeting his gaze. his eyes are already on you.

"yeah," he repeats, smiling.

and then he remembers your closeness. his heart, if it ever slowed, races. should he do it?

should he kiss you?

you're so sweet, so pretty, right there — so close. he leans in, instinctual, like his body is drawn to yours.

and maybe you're leaning in, too?

just like that, gojo doesn't have time to tell, because his phone rings, a bleary call from his confused roommate.

just like that, the moment shatters. gojo pulls back, farther than before. the sweet scent of your shampoo vanishes, the press of his thighs against yours, knees knocking, gone.

you wave goodbye. he waves goodbye.

and just like that, you're back to being the girl in his class. the girl behind the gas station.

୨୧ ⌞ act two: pro-bono deals. ⌝

gojo doesn't see it coming. he knows you're here often enough, a quiet fixture in the library's familiar hum. there's not much he knows about you, not really, but what little he's gathered, he clings to like scripture.

he knows you like to read. that's a given.

he knows the cute thing you do with your nose when you're deep in thought, a slight scrunch, lips pursed just so.

he knows you hate writing in pen. he offered you one once, when you were caught without anything to write with, but you’d asked for a pencil instead. something about being accident-prone, you'd said.

he knows your handwriting is god-awful, an illegible scrawl that makes him abandon any idea of feigning interest in your notes as an excuse to talk. he figures it’s because your brain moves faster than your hands can keep up.

he knows you like flowers, sometimes catching you pausing by the daisies near the fountain on the way to class.

these little things, these quiet quirks you have, he catalogues them meticulously. they're important to him, these small habits you might not even notice yourself.

it's what makes it so real, so tangible. it makes him feel like he knows you, as pathetic as that might sound.

what you don't like is studying. so, when he sees your nose buried deep in the familiar green shade of a physics textbook, he's got every right to be a little lost. for the entire two and a half years he's known you, gojo has never seen you go out of your way to study.

he shifts his weight, from one foot to another. he could let you be, let you work. or, he could… work with you? would that even be okay? after a dreadful moment of hesitation, he slides into the seat beside you.

you’re surprised to see him; it seems like you always are, when it’s him. nonetheless, a smile touches your face, so it’s a pleasant surprise. "gojo, what's up?"

"just… reading through things, studying for finals," he says, watching you close the book. "you don't mind if i sit here, right?"

"no, not at all," you assure him, waving off his mild concern. "i might go crazy reading this dumb thing alone, anyways."

gojo laughs, and your heavy sigh turns into a little chuckle. "don't like physics?"

"don't like science," you correct, slumping in your seat. you click and un-click your pen, groaning, "it's so boring."

"sounds about right coming from a literature major." he hopes you don't focus on how he knows your major. it seems to be alright, though, because you know his.

playfully, you raise your brows. "seriously, i have no idea how you're planning on doing that for the rest of your life."

"you're not bad at it, are you? i mean, based on, like, your scores and… stuff."

"no. i guess not. all my absences are catching up to me, though, and i'm a little behind."

he supposes it makes sense for you to be struggling a little, at least. he's not sure how you do it in the first place, managing to pass at all without any visible effort. sure, gojo's smart, but he's not that smart. he wouldn't say he's envious, but he wishes he had that ability.

the words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop them. "well, i could help you out," he offers. it comes out as more of a question, which he hates himself for. he also wishes he were more confident around you.

your eyes light up. "really? because field theory's kinda killing me." your gaze flickers from your notes to him, a little skeptical. you’re just not sure why he's hanging out with you in the first place, much less willing to, like, tutor you.

"yeah. if you want," his voice is a little less tentative, this time around.

"like… pro-bono?"

gojo chuckles. "sure. if you're up for aiding me in psychoanalyzing othello."

"you know what?" you ask, sticking your hand out. "deal."

he can't help the grin that spreads across his face, and he accepts your handshake. "deal."

your hand feels soft in his, and the mere touch makes him shiver. gojo inhales quietly, his eyes briefly glancing down to your lips.

it's the same strawberry-colored gloss. like a man down bad, all he can wonder is if it tastes like it, too.

୨୧ ⌞ act three: to get or not to get (some). ⌝

"i think we need to get you laid," shoko remarks, rather casually, the words cutting through the bass and chatter of geto's party. it makes gojo choke on his drink, a cheap beer in a red plastic cup, his grip tightening around it.

geto seems entirely too amused by this, a low laugh rumbling in his chest. "shit, sho, look at him, all red."

"shut up," he seethes, an unnatural flush creeping up his neck. he can feel the heat on his cheeks, a testament to his unexpected embarrassment.

she sighs, a faux melancholy. "poor guy. the clenched jaw tells me all i need to know."

"i don't— alright," gojo groans, quickly giving up. it's useless to argue with them when they're like this. "go ahead, abuse me like the great friends you are."

swirling her vodka with a straw, shoko snorts. "we are good friends, trying to save you from your newfound virginism."

"she's right," geto says pointedly, leaning forward. "you're like a male nun."

weakly, gojo repeats himself, "shut up." just as he’s reaching for his phone, a girl walks by. short dress, long legs, a smile that’s less friendly, more predatory, aimed straight at him. at some point, she would’ve been his ideal type, the kind of easy distraction he gravitated toward.

now? now, he doesn't even bat an eye. shoko looks at geto, a silent communication passing between them. geto looks at shoko. gojo glances up from his pocket, catching the sly, knowing looks his friends are giving him.

"or… maybe he's already getting some," geto nods, a mix of betrayal that he wasn't told and grudging impressment in his voice.

"you dog," shoko chuckles, nudging his arm with her elbow. "c'mon, who?"

"it's not— i'm not—"

geto sighs, "i didn't know we'd be around for the 'someone tied him down' era."

"guys—" he tries to interrupt, but then you walk by. his world narrows, the party noise fading to a dull hum. as if on instinct, his eyes get dreamy, following your path. his world stops, along with time itself, and gojo freezes, completely captivated.

they follow his line of sight, their gazes landing onto where he's looking. no, staring.

if he wasn't caught so off guard by shoko's low whistle, a sharp, clear sound in the sudden quiet of his world, he would have had a second to figure out why you were even here. "damn," she laughs, a genuine, unburdened sound. "if you fumble her, i call dibs."

"...didn't expect that. how do you even know her?" geto asks, a note of surprise in his voice.

"uh, she's in humanities with us," he says, a little annoyed that his friend, who shared classes with you, hadn't noticed you. he can’t imagine that possibility, especially not when you’re all gojo can seem to notice.

shoko squints, like she's trying to recall a distant memory. "oh, yeah. i think i've seen her, sometimes. doesn't she ditch, like, a lot?"

gojo shrugs. "i guess."

"i'm with geto. i wouldn't have pegged that, but congrats."

"it's not like that! we're just…" he’s about to say friends, but the word feels foreign, ill-fitting. he’s not even sure if you're that.

"no, no," geto shakes his head, a knowing smirk on his face. "sex is always great, man."

"we're not—"

the brown-haired girl cuts him off, her attention already elsewhere. "speaking of sex, i think i'm gonna have a go," she murmurs, vaguely gesturing to a pretty, curvy redhead across the room. downing the rest of her drink in one gulp, she's off before either of them gets a word in.

and, because god is good, a group of people walk in through the front door, and geto, ever the host, goes to greet them; it is his party, after all.

gojo sighs, weary, the weight of his friends' teasing momentarily forgotten. then he remembers: you're here. he’s practically racing away from the spot he's in, a desperate, though he hopes nonchalant, attempt to find you. had he been hallucinating? was he so crazy about you that he was now seeing you everywhere? oh, god.

gojo doesn't get any further with his worries, because someone runs into his back.

oh. oh, wait. the familiar, faint scent of strawberry shampoo. he turns around, heart already beating faster, a frantic rhythm against his ribs, when he sees you.

"jesus, i'm sorry. i didn't even see you." you look up, your eyes meeting his, and your apologies vanish into thin air, replaced by a soft, surprised expression. "oh, my god, hi."

"hey," he says, his voice a little breathy, holding his breath as if he’s scared to move, worried you'll simply vanish like a mirage.

"isn't it crazy how we keep running into each other?" you giggle, a light, melodic sound, blowing a strand of hair out of your face.

"yeah, um, small world," gojo nods, straining a smile that feels more like a grimace. you give him a funny look, a slight tilt of your head, but thankfully leave it. "i didn't think this was really your scene?"

your shoulders slump, and you sigh, a familiar weariness in the sound. "it's not. my friend dragged me here, and then left to go have trashy sex with a trashy guy."

"oof," he winces, a sympathetic grimace. "that's alright. you can always stick with me, you know." the words tumble out, hopeful and a little desperate.

you put a hand on his arm, a feather-light touch that sends a jolt through him, sighing in relief. "once again, you're my savior. i'm stuck here until she's," you pause, a flicker of distaste on your face, "done."

"ah, well, if it's trashy sex with a trashy guy, it'll probably not be too long." he rubs the back of his head, a nervous habit. "i wouldn't mind if it isn't, though. i like talking to you," he admits, the confession coming out a little sheepish.

"oh," you say, your cheeks flushing so slightly he almost misses it. "thanks. i mean, me, too."

"yeah." there's a beat of comfortable silence between you two, the thumping of bass from downstairs filling the quiet space. "say, uh, wanna go upstairs?"

your eyes go a little wide, a startled deer caught in headlights, and gojo quickly backpedals. "to talk. it's— it's just loud, here."

you nod, a slow, deliberate movement, sighing in either relief or disappointment (he can't tell, but he desperately hopes it's the latter).

his fingers tentatively lace with yours, a hesitant connection, and he pulls you gently past bodies of people swaying to the music. he leads you into a less crowded room, a quieter haven, and shuts the door behind him. the muffled bass is a distant thrum now. "isn't this much nicer?"

"definitely, yeah." you take a seat on the edge of the bed, a quick, almost imperceptible glance around to ensure it's clean. "so… how's your day been?" it sounds awkward, a little stilted, and he's glad that he’s not the only one.

taking a seat beside you, a comfortable, close distance, he smiles, "good. very good. you?" he looks right into your eyes, letting the sincerity of his words reach you.

you return the smile, a soft, hesitant curve of your lips, debating whether or not to scoot closer. "s'okay. better, now."

"i know you don't like parties, but on that scale, how's this one been? be nice, i helped set it up," he warns, a playful glint in his eyes.

"it's good. i appreciate the lukewarm beer."

he holds his hands up, defensive. "see, i told geto to get more coolers. that part's not on me."

"okay, then, what part's on you?" you ask, crossing your arms, a hint of playful challenge in your tone.

"uh, i did the…" he frowns, trying to remember his own contributions to the party prep. "i taste-tested all the snacks. does that count?"

you snort, a small, endearing sound. "did you eat all of them, too? 'cause there weren't any left when i got here."

"i," a pause, a hint of guilt in his voice, "might have had a little more than i was supposed to, but those cookies were really good. so was the kikufuku."

"there was kikufuku?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"not anymore," he admits, a wry grin on his face. "that, i did finish."

laughing, a genuine, unforced sound, you tilt your head, "what parties have kikufuku?"

"the really, really cool ones."

"is that right?"

"would i ever lie to you?" his voice is teasing, but there's something else there, too.

"hm, maybe not," you hum, making a show of inspecting his features, your gaze lingering on his eyes. "you do have a really honest face."

"you have a really pretty one," he retorts, the words escaping before he can think better of them. it takes you a second to process, a faint blush dusting your cheeks. him, too, because… did he just say that? was that bad? he can't, for the love of god, read your face.

your mouth opens, a soft parting of your lips, but you're robbed of a chance to respond, because a couple barges into the room, their laughter loud and jarring. gojo flinches, startled. huffing, he says, "occupied!"

it's shoko and the redhead. shoko's eyes flit from you to gojo, a silent apology passing between them before she quickly steers the redhead back out of the room, shutting the door. god, out of all his friends,

he wouldn't have expected her to be the cock-block. well, at least someone's getting some.

୨୧ ⌞ act four: nepo-baby v. broke barista.⌝

the gentle chime of the bell above the door echoes through the quiet café, a familiar melody that always brings a sense of calm to satoru.

he pushes the door open, the scent of rich, freshly brewed coffee washing over him, a comforting aroma that instantly eases the tension he hadn’t realized he was carrying. he lets out a small, almost imperceptible sigh of contentment.

this, to him, is the best place to be.

his sunglasses, a constant fixture even indoors and in the dead of winter, are perched precariously on the bridge of his nose. he knows he probably looks a little eccentric, a touch out of place, but he doesn't care.

gojo’s soft, white hair, perpetually threatening to fall into his startling blue eyes, drifts gently across his forehead. with a practiced flick of his wrist, he rakes it back, the cool air a stark contrast to the warmth of the café.

he steps towards the counter, his fingers drumming a silent rhythm against the smooth, polished surface. his order was always the same, a creature of habit in a world that constantly shifts and changes around him, a small anchor of predictability.

“hi,” a soft voice says, breaking him out of his reverie. gojo’s eyes fix on the meticulously arranged cookies in the display case, and he’s caught between the choice of chocolate chip or macadamia nut.

chocolate, duh.

“hey, could i—” his gaze finally shifts up, and he locks eyes with the barista. but, because god really does have favorites, it’s not just any barista, it’s you.

he’s caught off-guard, seeing you, though he really shouldn’t be. not after having run into you unplanned this many times, already. it’s almost comical at this point.

“damn,” he shakes his head, a smile of disbelief slowly spreading across his face. “are you playing a trick on me?”

“god, no,” you laugh, a clear, bright sound. a few stray strands of hair escape from beneath the café’s branded hat, and you brush them out of your face with a practiced motion.

your smile is a little lopsided, charmingly imperfect, and he notices your apron is slightly askew, a testament to what must have been a busy morning.

“i come here all the time. don’t tell me i’ve been missing you… somehow, like, every single time,” he pouts, a playful whine in his voice.

“no, no. don’t worry, i’m new. i started yesterday. apparently, i’m more broke than i realized,” you confess, a wry smile touching your lips.

he nods in understanding, giving you a look of genuine sympathy. “yeah, i get it.”

“oh, do you, rich boy?” you tease, your gaze playfully raking over his expensive sunglasses, then his wrist to his watch, and finally the glint of a gold chain peeking from beneath his shirt. i

t’s not a secret that gojo is loaded, the son of gojo enterprises’ founder. he’s always gone out of his way to be humble about it, part of why he works so hard.

“yeah, yeah,” he waves you off, a dismissive flick of his hand. "speaking of, you gonna mess up my drink, newbie?"

"oh, haha. did you lose your stick? because i think i know where it went." you quip back.

gojo snorts, motioning to the register. “caramel macchiato, please. extra sugar.”

“aw, elitist baby can say please.” you pause, a faint wrinkle forming between your brows. “wait, did you say extra sugar?” you ask, making a face as you reach for a plastic cup and a sharpie. he nods, feeling his face flush under your intense, slightly disgusted gaze. “you know it’s already, like, super sweet, right?”

in return, he nods again, a little sheepish. gojo watches you scribble his name down on the side of the cup, your handwriting the same scrawl it always is. he shuffles to the end of the counter, waiting to receive his order.

your movements are a little clumsy, a novice’s hesitation in your hands, and you have to pause to remember the steps for making the drink. he even sees you gag, just a little, when adding the extra thing he’d gone out of his way to tell you.

“enjoy the, uh, macchiato.” you can't help the slight grimace as you push the cup across the counter. the smell alone was overwhelmingly sweet, amplified tenfold by the extra sugar he’d requested.

“you’re laughing. don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” he grins, a flash of white teeth against his pale skin, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“nah, i think i’ll be knocking,” you giggle, shaking your head, a slight shiver running through you. “but, if that’s what you like, you do you.”

there's a beat of silence, and gojo watches you attention momentarily shift to a spilled sugar packet near the display. "we really should start planning our run-ins," he chuckles, his fingers brushing yours for a fleeting moment as he grabs the cup.

"they wouldn't be run-ins, then," you correct, a sly lilt in your voice.

"i… wouldn't mind that." the words are soft, almost a murmur, but loaded with intent.

the universe has a weird way of pulling people together, doesn't it?

୨୧ ⌞ act five: she loves me, she loves me not.⌝

gojo goes out of his way to plan this. he knows it's not a date, and he probably shouldn't pretend it is one. you had taken him up on his offer to hang out sometime, and he wanted it to be perfect.

you don't deserve anything less than that.

to anyone on the outside, he's sure it does look like a date. it feels like one, at least, if that counts. gojo picked you up, he dressed nice, you dressed nice, and he drove you to the park for a nice picnic. all of it sounds date-like, especially the part where he told you that you looked very cute today.

and, especially the part where he frantically back-pedaled, telling you; wait, you look cute today, but you look cute everyday. he doesn't just mean today.

and, especially, especially, how you'd teased him about it after. so, yeah, forgive him if he's having a hard time differentiating a platonic meetup and a not-so-platonic date.

gojo's picking off the petals on the daisy he's holding, hoping you don't notice how he's mentally playing she loves me, she loves me not. he glances at the small pile of discarded petals, then back at you, a soft smile playing on his lips.

you weave the stem of a flower into another, your brows furrowed in concentration on the crown you're making for him. "how long should i make this? you do have a really big head."

"hey, that's insulting. my head is perfectly normal-sized," he huffs, feigning offense, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. he leans closer, trying to get a better look at your handiwork. "are you sure you know what you're doing over there?"

"positive," you retort, not looking up. you wrap what you've got so far around his head, the cool petals a gentle press against his temple. "yep, definitely needs to be longer. see?"

"okay, rude." he pulls away slightly, inspecting the half-finished crown. "i'm starting to think you're just trying to wound my feelings."

you sigh, a dramatic, mournful sound. "truth hurts, right?" you glance up, your eyes locking with his, a gentle warmth in their depths. "this is really nice, by the way. i'm really glad we're doing this."

"me, too. feels a lot less rushed, compared to just seeing you around. not that i mind seeing you around," he quickly adds, the words tumbling out a little too fast, a faint blush creeping up his neck.

you smile, a soft, genuine curve of your lips. "yeah, i get it. you picked a nice spot. the gardens are so beautiful, i can't believe i've never been here before," you say, looking around at the vibrant roses beside you, your gaze lingering on their soft petals.

"you just wait, then, i've got a whole roster, baby." he means the pet-name as a joke, a casual endearment, but the sudden flicker in your gaze has his breath hitching, a silent question forming in his mind.

"you make me sound like your girlfriend," you laugh, the sound light and airy, a small puff of air escaping your lips.

"i bet you'd like that, huh?" he teases, pushing his luck, and you respond by playfully throwing a torn-off stem at him, which he easily dodges.

rolling your eyes at him, you scoff. "i just meant all this. you're really nice to me." your voice softens towards the end, a subtle shift in tone that he notices.

"well, yeah, we're," he hesitates, the word catching in his throat, "friends." sure, he's glad that you're even that, that you tolerate his presence, but it's still disappointing, only that.

"mm, friends," you repeat, the word echoing his own slight disappointment. he wonders if that's a similar ache he hears in the tone of your voice.

"what? you fallin' for me?" he asks, playing it off as a joke, a lighthearted jab, but, god, he wishes. he so, so desperately prays that a tiny part of it is true.

"oh, shut up," you huff, but the warmth on your cheeks contradicts your words, a tell-tale flush that brings a hopeful flutter to his chest.

he tilts his head at you, intently studying the familiar sparkle in your eyes, the way they crinkle slightly at the corners when you're amused.

taking one of the remaining daisies, he gently tucks it behind your ear, his fingers brushing against the soft skin of your neck. "you should call me satoru."

"yeah? okay, then, shut up, satoru." the corners of your mouth quirk upwards, a small, knowing smile.

he plucks off the last petal. she loves me.

୨୧ ⌞ act six: stay, little valentine, stay.⌝

"i hate valentine's day, you know," you frown, slumping down in the bakery's chair. the place smells sweet, a comforting blend of buttered croissants and something faintly fruity, like berries.

"of course you would. you're single," he remarks, casually, playing with the crinkly wrapping paper of his straw.

"you're single, too, gojo."

he points a finger at you, raising his perfectly sculpted eyebrows. "yeah, but that's different. i'm at peace with it."

shoving his index finger away, you whine, "what, like you aren't sick of seeing love-sick couples sucking each other's faces off, all day?"

well, he won't admit it (to you, at least), but he's mostly just been imagining what it would be like if those love-sick couples were you two.

before he can come up with a lame excuse, an employee, a young guy with a chipped name-tag stops by, checking in to see if you need anything else. "just letting you know, it's all half-off for couples today," they say, their tone far too cheery for your liking.

you say, "oh, no, we're not—" at the exact same time gojo says, "sure. another blueberry muffin, please. two, actually."

"are you crazy?" you whisper harshly at him, leaning across the table, your eyes wide with disbelief. "we're not even a couple." unbothered, he shoves your face away, a playful flick of his wrist.

instead, he smiles brightly at mark, and audaciously winks at you. "a couple of those strawberry tarts, too. my girlfriend here has a real sweet tooth."

your voice is strained, a desperate attempt to salvage the situation. "he's exaggerating. just the muffins, please."

with a click of their pen, they're telling you that you're an adorable couple, then walking off, already distracted by another customer.

"see? adorable. i'm already winning 'em over." gojo leans back in his chair, a smug look on his face.

you shoot him a look, a mix of exasperation and reluctant amusement. "winning who over? the employee? or me, into wanting those things? besides, i didn't even need any."

"first, who said it was for you?" he retorts, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "second, it's half-off. it'd be a shame if we didn't take advantage of it."

"right," you laugh, shaking your head. he might be going crazy, but he's really fond of the idea that at least one person thinks you're dating. and, sure, that doesn't make it real, but it's a step closer.

"you know," he says, taking a sip of his smoothie (your smoothie, he stole it from you and you said nothing, which he considers a victory), "i think we'd make a good couple."

"oh? what makes you so sure?" you challenge, raising an eyebrow.

"think about it. i'm the brains, you're the… well, you're pretty good at complaining. we balance each other out," gojo claims, with a confidence that has you kicking his shin from under the table.

"ow! seriously?" he yelps, rubbing his leg.

"oh, is that your sales pitch? my top quality is complaining? how charming." you deadpan, crossing your arms.

"it's a very enthusiastic quality. plus, you'd never have to open jars again. or reach for things on high shelves. i'm basically a human step-stool with great hair." he gestures to his impeccably styled white locks.

"so, your criteria for a good relationship is purely utilitarian? i'm good for complaining and you're good for opening jars?"

"and looking good. don't forget that. i'm the eye candy. every couple needs eye candy. you can be good at appreciating my eye candy."

you fight the urge to stick a fork in his eyes. "right, because all i do is sit around and appreciate your god-given good looks."

"besides," he continues, ignoring your sarcasm, "that guy bought it. means we look pretty couple-y, right?"

you stare at him, a flat, unimpressed look on your face. "or, it means he's being paid minimum wage, and couldn't care less."

"you would know, broke ass." another swift kick, and he hisses, pouting exaggeratedly.

"excuse me?" you huff. "minimum wage or not, that man is doing his job. unlike you, who's just freeloading off my good reputation."

he nods, as if he's genuinely considering this profound statement. "good reputation? for hating valentine's day? that's quite the legacy."

defensively, you sit up straighter. "it's a very respectable stance! and i'm not broke. i just appreciate a good discount. like you, apparently, considering you just scammed a bakery employee into thinking we're an item."

he choose not to address you, taking a moment to meticulously tear the paper of the straw in half. "on the other hand," gojo says, eyes fixed on his paper dissection, "if you weren't single, you'd be far less grouchy all the time."

"you already said that," you huff, deadpan.

"it still holds true," he nods, finally looking up, a serious expression on his face.

snorting, you tilt your head up, looking at the cracks in the ceiling. "so… you're suggesting i need to get a boyfriend? are you also suggesting the boyfriend is… you? just to not be grouchy? okay, well, what if i prefer to be grouchy? what if that's, like, my thing?"

"not necessarily." he almost says yes, but catches himself. "but you should know, i'd make a gas boyfriend," he insists, puffing out his chest playfully.

"good to know," you hum, snatching your drink back. when you take a sip from exactly where he did, his heart does a little flip in his chest, a secret, happy flutter.

gojo clicks his tongue. "and, also, impossible. no one prefers to be grouchy. you're just… unfulfilled. a boyfriend would bring joy, sunshine, spontaneous acts of adoration. less frowning, more smiling."

"these are high standards to hold to yourself. or, like, this hypothetical boyfriend. also, i like the grouch. i think it's kind of like my core trait." you tap your chest, a definitive statement.

"that is such a sad, sad trait to base yourself off."

"oh, please," you scoff, rolling your eyes. "like the rich daddy's boy thing you have going on is any better."

he holds his hands up, defensive, but a grin splits his face. "well, one of us is paying for lunch, and the other isn't. you know, because she's broke." mildly offended, you kick him. again.

"hey! quit doing that. anyways, my point is, i've got all day to change your mind about valentine's."

"all day? what if i'm busy?" you challenge, a playful glint in your eye.

"nah. you wouldn't be here with me, if you had plans." he says it with absolute certainty.

he doesn't know it yet, but, yeah, even if you did have plans, you'd still ditch them for him.

୨୧ ⌞ act seven: strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you.⌝

gojo's phone died a little while back, and he has no idea what time it is. it doesn't really matter, though, not when he's walking in the dim-lit street with you, not when it feels like this moment will last forever.

he pulls you behind that same, tattered, gray building, the gas station he saw you at just a couple months ago. it looks the same, save for the dumpster that's against the bushes instead of the wall.

"oh, shit," he laughs, the sound a little breathless. "it smells rank back here."

you plop down on the familiar concrete ledge, scrunching your nose in agreement. "don't even start, you're the one who dragged me here. for your stupid matcha cravings."

pulling him down next to you, his shoulder bumps against yours. "wait, wait," you murmur, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of your pocket. holding a flame to the end, you cup your hand to keep the tiny light from going out in the faint breeze.

there's an odd feeling that passes through him, not quite nostalgia, when he sees that identical stain of strawberry-colored gloss on the end your lips are over.

"remember the last time i tried to smoke one?" he asks, a small, knowing grin on his face.

"yeah," you giggle, your shoulders shaking slightly as the smoke hits your lungs. "you almost died."

he's a little flustered, denying it immediately. "i did not almost die."

"close enough, you started choking and everything. wanna try again?" you ask, holding it near him, the lit tip glowing orange in the dim light. he eyes it, then looks back at you, a challenge in his gaze.

"damn, you tryna kill me?" he teases, but his voice is softer than he intends.

you lean closer, a pretty smile on your face that makes his voice catch. "would i get your money, if i did?"

his lips part, a hesitant breath escaping him, and you slip the cigarette between them. he can faintly smell the sweetness of the red. it's barely there, a ghost of a scent, but it's enough.

"relax," you hum, your voice a low, soothing sound. "you don't need to be so tense, it's just me."

but that's the thing — it's just you. just you and him, here again, alone in the quiet hum of the night. you're so close, invading all of his senses, leaving him breathless. how is he even supposed to think straight?

he, hesitant, inhales the smoke. he lasts hardly any longer than last time, turning away and breaking into a coughing fit, his shoulders shaking with the effort.

"oh, my god," you wheeze, patting his back, a mixture of concern and amusement in your touch. "careful. you're not supposed to suck in that much. just a puff, sato." the nickname, soft and intimate, has him blushing, and he has to duck his head, hiding his flushed face.

"one more time, or are you tapped out?" you ask, your voice still laced with laughter.

"one more," he breathes, tilting his head up to take in a smaller stroke. it's easier this time, irritates his throat less. he has to clear his chest, a low rumble, but he doesn't start writhing on the floor, so it's a win.

"oh, look! you did it," you smile, your eyes sparkling, and you gently pat his cheek. he wants to respond, but all he can manage is to lean into your touch. you don't move your hand, but stay cupping his face instead, your thumb stroking his cheekbone.

"hey, pretty," he whispers, his voice thick, feeling his breath mingle with yours in the cool night air.

you scoot closer, virtually pressed flush against him, and the sudden warmth of your body sends a jolt through him. "hi." his heart is beating loudly against his ribcage, a frantic drum, and he's afraid you can hear it.

gojo watches your eyes glaze over, a hazy, soft look, and how your long lashes flutter against your skin. you clutch his shirt, your fingers digging into the fabric, and your noses brush against his. and in a moment of a burst of raw courage, he presses his lips against yours.

it's not patient, but it's still loving, desperate in its urgency. it's clumsy, rather, messy, because both of you have been waiting too long for this to happen. your teeth clash against his, a soft click, as your lips, almost silkenly soft, move against his.

he tastes the faint sweetness of strawberries, a hint of something smoky and intoxicating. his hand, warm and firm, cups the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss.

the other hand fixes on your waist, keeping you there, pressed flush against him, as if he fears you might disappear.

it's awkward at first, tentative, because he's all too focused on the frantic butterflies that loop through his stomach, a dizzying swarm. it's like he's never kissed another person before, like he's forgotten how to. it was like his first one. his right one.

when he pulls away, you're panting little breaths, needing air, foreheads pressed together, your eyes still hazy. gojo presses another gentle kiss to the top of your hair, his nose nuzzled there, inhaling your scent.

you taste like strawberries and cigarettes.

unofficial permanent taglist: @jeonwiixard, @mia-can-yap-too did u guys know this is the longest fic ive ever written i should get head in the gc <33 big thanku to @mia-can-yap-too for beta reading i cannot be trusted to go back and do that myself i will cry also tagging myleslover @shokocide bc ur long fics inspire me + idk how u do it but share the talent !!! gatekeeping is bad incorrect buzzer

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madamechrissy · 2 months ago

Text

Lead It Southbound

Pairings - Pornstar! Satoru x F! reader x OF Star! Nanami

Warnings - ridiculously filthy mmkay, cum swallowing (m and f) oral (m and f recieiving) anal, double penetration, a TON of jealousy, possessive as fuck Satoru, yearning and pining Nanami, they're competitive you're their little toy, filming porn, double creampies, porn without plot, they're both so obsessed with you

This is so filthy, an alt universe with reader from Baby You're a Star, with secret Onlyfans star Nanami and Pornstar Satoru. It's not part of the story! But more a WHAT IF situation, where Nanami and Satoru shared you on camera WC- 4.5k

Nanami Kento is gripping your hips, dragging your slick cunt against his face, while Satoru Gojo is kissing your lips, gripping your chin with his slender fingers so tightly, while your cries fill the room and echo, mixing with the squelching of your cunt.

You can't even fathom how you got here

When Nanami’s long tongue flicks up to your clit, you gasp out, whining into Satoru's mouth, tasting the sweetness of his lips, only for him to pull back and pout them then, dilated blue eyes glaring under snowy lashes.

"You better not like that more than my mouth," he huffs, scowling even deeper as Nanami's tongue flicks right on your clit, and he's gripping your chin tighter, all while you're struggling not to scream, already knowing how mad he is. "You don't, do you?"

"Mnh! N-Nanami!" is your weak response, as you can't hear him, body convulsing with Nanami groaning against you, vibrating right on your clit. He's pressing his cock against the mattress, leaking pre while tasting you on his tongue, coating his tastebuds as you grip his sandy blond locks. Nanami's been dreaming of tasting you, so he doesn't miss a single drop from your soppy hole. "Ah!" You cry out again, pretty breasts heaving up and down with your breaths while his tongue dances against your sensitive cunt.

"My turn," Satoru says, glaring down at you again. But Nanami chuckles softly, unmoving, simply slipping a thick digit in your cunt while his sandy blond hair falls over his brow, sweating from the exertion of lapping at you. He raises a thin brow, eyeing Satoru with a devious smirk. Nanami seemed like a gentleman, but he certainly ate pussy like a fiend. "I'll eat her pussy way better than you."

"Huh," Nanami drags his fingers down your waist and hips, pressing kisses up your body. "Doubt that."

Nanami can't help but suck your tiny clit into his mouth again instead of listening, moaning as your cunt gushes down his mouth and even his chin, dripping down his neck as you tug at his hair, and Satoru kisses your lips. "Focus on me," he whispers, and you look up at him, fading in and out, forgetting this is streaming right now. "Off her."

Nanami relents, scowling at Satoru now, yanking you by your chin with his rougher fingers, while Satoru shoves your thighs up, lips glossy as he licks them, salivating at the sight of your pretty pussy spread wide. Kento is kissing you with your sweet arousal all over his tongue, hands drifting to your breasts and twisting a nipple. Satoru slips two long fingers in your cunt then, stretching you out, you feel every ridge of his fingers in your gummy walls when he curls them up and hits just your spot, making you scream out, which earns Nanami's scowl at him.

"My fingers are longer, sorry. Oh, look she loves them." Satoru says with a wicked smirk, curling them again, your cunt drools down his fingers as the pressure hits your tummy, when Nanami wraps a hand around your throat, thumb over your pulse point.

"Mine are thicker, aren't they darling?" Your answer is just a weak whimper, cunt pulsing around Satoru's fingers then, while the two of them scowl at each other but endlessly kiss and bite and suck on your delicate skin.

"She likes mine better, don't you sweets?" Satoru murmurs, while you blink his pretty face into focus, when Satoru laps his long tongue over your slit and hits your twitchy little clit finally, eliciting a loud whine from you that makes Nanami furious.

Satoru and Nanami do not want to share you, even for the camera, even to make bank off it, no they're so greedy, and they both want your pretty pussy to themselves. But for just a moment they work together, Nanami pinching your nipples and gently choking you with a firm grim. Satoru is holding up your hood, long pink tongue slipping into your aching hole. All you can do is grasp at them both, blond hair and silvery locks in your hands, whining out and arching your back as you lose oxygen, making your ears ring.

"That's it darling, make as much noise as you want," Nanami murmurs, while Satoru's stupidly long fingers curl inside you, hitting that spot that makes you blind while the insane stream, full of both of their fans, captures it all, captures you cumming and drenching Satoru's pretty face in it.

All their worship, Satoru's desperate and hungry kisses, Nanami's bites and huffs overwhelm you as he releases your throat now, they move you like you're nothing, their little toy to play with, a toy neither wants to share. Satoru is constantly making sure your eyes are on him, constantly biting you to get your attention when it travels to Nanami's hazel gaze.

"I'm fucking her first," Satoru murmurs huskily, while you're on your hands and knees, fingers gripping the soft silk sheets as Satoru grabs your hips, Nanami chuckles then.

"Gonna stretch her out a bit for me?"

"My cock is way bigger, tell him baby," Satoru bends over you, pulling your hair gently, while the ring lights glow against the three of you, casting shadows of you all along the wall, you're about to have a cock in your mouth and your cunt, something you never thought you'd do. But it's heady, addictive, the shit they're talking only making you more eager to please. "How good do I feel?"

"S'good, Satoru..." You whine out, when his tip leaking as he presses into your cunt, smacking your ass and gripping your hips bruising. You know Satoru's cock, you know how full he stuffs you, how good it feels. The camera knows him fucking you, but Nanami's cock makes you swallow nervously as it's revealed, thick and so heavy it just hangs there. "Oh!"

"Don't get so excited, brat." Satoru smacks your ass again, grinning as he watches his handprints, before shoving his cock deep in one stroke, making you scream out, back arching, while Nanami gently strokes your cheek, chuckling deeply.

"Do you want it in your mouth, love?" you nod eagerly, tongue out and mouth wide, earning the precum to leak out of his reddened tip, while Satoru hisses, feeling you clench for him. "Say please, like a good girl-"

"Oh hell no, she won't say please, psh," he pulls your hair, making your face pull back from the thick, veiny cock, while Satoru's long cock strokes deep and hard, bruising your cervix. "She only says that to me, isn't that right?"

"She can be a good girl for me, she wants to be." Nanami cups your face with two hands, tip brushing precum like a gloss, while you're stuffed so full, looking up at him under your lashes. His heart races at how pretty you are, the only thing that would make this better is if Satoru wasn't here.

He gets it, you're his - for now.

Your tongue slips up his tip while Satoru grips both of your wrists behind you, pinning them and arching your back more for a brutal thrust. "Stop talking shit and caressing her Nanami," he whispers, before whining out as he feels your cunt gripping him like a vise. "It's a shoot, don't get too clingy."

Nanami ignores Satoru completely, opening your mouth with his thumb, pressing it down on your tongue, you suck on his thumb, making Nanami even more sensitive, fuck he's thought of this for so long, even the idiot behind you wasn't ruining it. "Go ahead, darling, tell me what you want."

"Let me suck you, please - ow!" You glare back at Satoru as he smacks your ass hard, slap stinging, and he just grins, before Nanami grips you by your throat, sliding his cock inside your hot mouth, groaning when he feels it enwrapping him. "Mmm..."

"That's it, sweet girl, you're so perfect," Nanami murmurs, feeling the bulge in your throat as you suck him down, while Satoru slams hard into your cunt, tugging at your waist tightly, as if to make sure you don't forget you're his, and that this is for a shoot, but Nanami's just staring at you, murmuring a mix of sweetness and filth that has you breathless, along with Satoru's perfect strokes, knowing just how to roll his hips to make you fall apart.

"Cum for me, sweetheart, huh? Be a good girl," Satoru murmurs, reaching up to spread your cheeks, spitting a sticky, bubbly trail from his mouth to your ass, slipping just his thumb in as Nanami shoves his cock deep, gagging you, while you cum so hard you can't thing, drooling out of your mouth and your cunt while the two men begin to lose themselves, moaning as they fuck your holes.

You didn't add getting spitroasted by two of the most popular Onlyfans stars there were to your bucketlist, you also didn't plan on being Nanami Kento's first debut of his actual face either. But here you are, glasses fogged up, wearing nothing but a pretty glittery body chain, that Satoru uses to tug tighter along your body, while you're twitching, a mess between their huge cocks, their hungry gazes and greedy grips.

The stream is going wild, but none of you seem to remember, the competition ever going as Satoru laughs, beads of sweat dripping down his face onto your spine. "I make her cum so good, don't think you could hit that spot, Nanami."

"Oh, you're right, I'll stretch her out more, it's good you warmed her up for me." His mean little smile is met with him pulling his cock out of your mouth with a suctioned pop, while Satoru scoffs, fucking into you harder. The smacks are echoing in the room as he tugs, bringing you to your knees now, while Nanami kisses his own precum off you, messy and sloppy, his hands possessive on your waist. "You want me to stretch your perfect little cunt, don't you darling?"

"She wants more of my cock, don't you sweets?" Satoru turns your face, tongue devouring your mouth, you gasp when Nanami lifts you up and plants you the opposite direction, now facing Satoru, who's kissing you desperate, whining out when you stroke his cock, slick with your arousal and his precum, he's lost in how gorgeous you look like this, covered in marks, tears in your eyes as he gently takes off your glasses for you. "You good baby?"

"Y-yes, just intense," your whisper doesn't go unnoticed by Nanami, who brushes your hair back, slipping a hand down your spine soothingly, as he presses little kisses on your shoulder blades, and Satoru is standing, his pretty, perfect cock bouncing just slightly, while you lap yourself off him. "Mmm, Toru..."

"You sure you're ready for this, baby?" Satoru murmurs softly, snowy lashes lowered, despite them being filthy, and competitive, they're both attentive to you right now.

"I can eat you out again if you're not ready, I could do it all night, love." Nanami's words make you melt, biting your lip as you look back at him, when Satoru turns your face back to face his glossy cock.

"You won't get to all night, Nanami."

"You're so threatened, you good, Gojo?" Nanami and Satoru scowl over you, and you can't help but giggle, shaking your head at them.

"I'm ready for it," your soft answer draws both their attention, and soon Kento's thick cock presses into you, thank god you were prepared from Satoru - who's longer, and just a little thinner, but how Nanami feels burns in the best way, your moan is drowned out by Satoru's cock, as he shoves in deep right with him. Your thighs shake as he inches in slow, letting you adjust, while he groans out behind you, huge hands gripping your hips.

"F-fuck, you're so tight," Nanami can't stop his groan, while Satoru cries out as your tongue hits the base of his cock, fucking your tight throat while Nanami slips in and out of your cunt, slapping his heavy cock on your ass and moaning as he watches the precum decorate your skin, before easing back in, exhaling. "Feel so good, fuck..."

"Doesn't she?" Satoru smiles, lovingly gripping that chain, pressing it up around your throat, the metal digging in while he thrusts his narrow hips, and Nanami bottoms out, making you tremble as you try to take him, his tip pressing into a sore cervix. Your hands cling to Satoru's thighs, looking up at his pretty blue eyes while he wrecks your esophogus, caressing you with his free hand. Nanami thrusts sharply then, balls slapping against you, making your eyes roll back. "Fuck, look at you," he murmurs, watching as you fall apart.

The comments and tips are insane, fans watching Nanami Kento fuck for the first time and with the Satoru Gojo and his favorite co-star, what they don't know is how long and how badly Nanami's wanted you. Craved you, and fuck you're better than he could have pictured, wetter, the snuggest fucking fit for his girth, and when he reaches around to find your clit, bending over you, rough pads of his fingers moving in circles, your tummy clenches. You feel it, an orgasm about to hit hard, while the two men fuck into you, Satoru gripping your face in place while your tongue slips across the ridge of his cock before slipping into your throat.

The stream is a mix of women dying to be you right now, and men dying to be inside of you, a heady mix while Nanami makes you cum all over his cock, squirting down the bed, earning his surprised, pleased groan. Satoru's eyes flutter shut as you do, feeling your throat close on his cock as you're choking on him, muffling all your moans while you soak the sheets with all your cum.

"Look, you're cumming so much, for me aren't you?" Satoru glares again over your body, bent over on all fours for them.

"It's because she loves feeling me down her throat, isn't that right baby?"

You're expected to talk!?

There's no talking as you're dripping down Nanami's cock and fingers, slobbering all over Satoru's length, entire body shaking while your nails press into the pale skin on Satoru's strong thighs, feeling the force of Nanami's thrust.

"God, you're making such a mess, love," Nanami's words are followed by him sucking your juices off his thick digits, easing back and slipping out, you feel so empty for just a moment, until Satoru's flipped it all around, he's letting you kiss and ride Nanami's cock, his hands slipping up your waist, while Satoru is sinking two fingers in your other hole again, stretching you out, while you're riding him, moreso he is holding you up, shoving his cock up inside, skin slapping while Satoru wraps an arm around your waist, lips against your ear, tickling your skin.

"Mine," Satoru murmurs in your ear, sinking those fingers so deep while Nanami slams you down his length, fucking mean up into you while you're gasping for a breath, feeling so full. "All mine, hmm?"

His words are quiet, you're nodding weakly, on another video you two had shared your girl friend, Jenna, and Satoru and her had competed on just who could eat your pussy better - but this competition was beyond what you were comprehending. When Satoru has his fingers curling in your puckered little hole, and it feels so good, rubbing against where Nanami's veiny cock was pressing, feeling their eyes and hands all over your body, now covered in a sheen of sweat.

"Riding cock so perfect, fucking look at you, baby." Satoru urges you on, you're crying out weakly, head falling back against his collar bone, while he sinks his teeth into your neck. Nanami wants your attention, however, thrusting up deep enough to knock your head forward, and your dilated eyes look at him, intoxicated and perfect.

"You're doing so good for me," Nanami whispers, finding your clit as Satoru grips your breasts that bounce gently as you ride Nanami, the sensations of being touched everywhere making you listless and weak, you weren't putting in any movements for the camera, no the two men moved you, up and down, gliding on Nanami's cock, as Satoru presses on your other hole, splitting you apart so good you're trembling trying to take them both.

"God, your ass is so tight, fuck baby," Satoru's whining as he stretches out your tight ass inch by inch, being so careful with you, while you lay forward on Nanami, kissing him again, feeling the pressure of both of them in both your holes, so intense you can barely make any of those sexy moans, just gasping. "You good, sweets?"

"Are you all right, love?" Nanami and Satoru ask at the same time, scowling at each other even now, as you breathlessly whine out, nodding.

"S'good, it's... you're both so big I..."

The stream is losing it collectively at the Double Penetration scene in front of them, getting a view of Satoru stretching your ass inch by inch, while Nanami thrusts up into your cunt, moaning and tugging you back down, kissing you again. You whine out into his lips, just to have your hair pulled, Satoru fucking his long, thick cock further in your ass, so much pressure as their cocks rub between your thin layer separating them, stretching and filling you to the brim. "Ah!"

"Look at me," Satoru kisses you again, cupping your face, sliding out of your ass that's so lubed up with his spit, shoving in deeper until you scream, and he has a devious white grin. "Good girl, got your attention, huh?"

You nod weakly, when Nanami shoves his cock fully in, until you're close to cumming again, while he works your clit in methodical circles, earning your weak, lidded gaze, Nanami can't stop looking at your fucked out face, feeling your cunt soaking and milking him. Only, Satoru needs to look at your face too, to watch your mouth part in that slutty O, when he spits right inside your mouth, murmuring - 'swallow, pretty'

Nanami keeps dragging you down on him, while Satoru yanks you up, both fucking in tandem, Satoru's hands on your waist, Nanami's on your ass, spreading you even wider for Satoru's cock. They're whispering, murmuring, fucking wet and loud, smacks and squelching echoing for the camera, their moans husky - mixed with Satoru's whimpers he can't control.

"God, baby, wanna fill you up here, c-can I?" Gone is notorious Pornstar Satoru, replaced is whiny, needy Satoru, the boyish pout as he begs to cum in you there, you heat up to the touch, flustered and blushing, your hair falling across your face, which he brushes back. You try to find the energy to answer, to speak, while the pleasure is overwhelming and blinding.

"Y-yes, if you want to, Toru," your whisper ends him, he moans, biting your shoulder, tearing the skin and leaving his mark, while Nanami slips a hand up between your breasts, going to choke you only for Satoru's hand to slip around your throat, under your chin, until both of their hands wrap your throat, sucking the last bit of oxygen from your lungs, making you feel fucking high as they both bottom out at once and you're about to fall off the edge.

You weakly cling to Satoru's arms with one hand, the other on Nanami's thick, muscled chest, feeling the strength as the two huge, strong men fuck you and choke you, the chains falling against your skin, scraping softly, leaving marks as you're pressed between them.

"Wanna fill your perfect pussy so full." Nanami's words barely register, but Satoru scowls at him.

"Nuh uh." Nanami scowls back, while they loosen their grip, giving you just a breath before their cocks move out and back in, different timing, in and out, in and out, so fucking good you're shuddering, blinded by pleasure, you can't remember your own fucking name until they're both whispering it.

"Lemme cum inside her, fuck... double creampie - you know f-for the cameras..." now Nanami's voice is desperate, you swear you hear him whimper. Satoru scoffs, slamming his length hard inside you, making you jolt, while he's pulsing, so close he can't take it.

"Baby, only if you push all his cum out after," you nod weakly at Satoru's whisper, and he pulls out his entire length, only to shove it all back in, so deep you feel him everywhere, while Nanami eyes the bulge of his cock in your stomach, feeling so feral and possessive.

"Want my cum inside you, love? Look, already fucking filling you up," his husky depraved whisper is nothing like you thought he would be, gentlemanly sweet Nanami at work - and here he is now, palm flat on the bulge his cock is making, pressing against your soft tummy as he throbs in your gummy walls, fluttering around him. "Then say please-"

"She sure won't, she'll only beg for me, tell him pookie," Satoru whispers, how the man is cute with nine fucking inches stuck up your little hole, you can't compute. You just whine, whispering his name, earning his satisfied smirk. But, Nanami isn't quite done yet, picking your hips up and slamming his cock deep, groaning as he grips you, making you clench Satoru's cock harder, until he feels himself ready to bust. "F-fuck, baby..."

"God, you feel so - f-fuck..." Nanami's leaned up and sitting now, kissing up one side of your neck, gripping one breast, while Satoru bites the other side of your neck, groaning as he grips your other breasts. They're squeezing you, pulsing inside you so deep, while you weakly rock your hips, orgasm ripping through your entire body, you're trembling and shaking as it hits, blinded and floating when the two men can't take how good your orgasm feels, both busting at the same fucking time.

They're groaning and gripping you so tightly you can barely breathe, you feel Nanami's thick, girthy cock pouring inside your sore, slutty little cunt, while Satoru's painting your other hole full, hot spurts filling you so intimately, while he possessively bites your neck again, while white ropes pump you full, you're leaking it right down Nanami and Satoru's cock as the pull out, and you almost collapse if not for the two of them catching you.

"Darling, are you okay?" Nanami murmurs, brushing your cheek back carefully, like he hadn't meanly been pumping his length inside you, you nod weakly, while Satoru eases out of you with a hiss, turning your body toward him.

"Baby, you feel good?" You nod again, swallowing with a dry throat while he exhales, pressing a heated kiss on your lips. "You good doing this shot? We don't have to."

"I'm good, j-just... how do I push it out?" You whisper, they both chuckle a bit, earning your own glare. "Don't you two Pros make fun of me for not knowing!"

"No, you're just cute. C'mere." Satoru bends you over the bed, Nanami gently presses a little kiss on your head, murmuring in your ear now.

"Just press a bit, here," he whispers, pressing on your lower tummy with his big hand. You moan softly, nodding, Satoru's on his knees, sinking into the plush carpet as he gets the perfect angle, hands gripping your ass and lifting it, showcasing the white creamy cum oozing from both your beat up holes.

"Fucking look at all of it, you took so much baby." Satoru murmurs, toying with his own cum that's dripping from your hole, while Nanami keeps sneaking kisses while Satoru is focused, your little giggle makes him realize, ending the stream and standing. "Excuse me, no more. Ah- ah." He smacks at Nanami's hand, reaching for your pussy again.

"How'd we do, Toru?" You ask softly, while Nanami eases you up, brushing your hair back and just staring at you with those hazel, lidded eyes, lips parted while Satoru peers at the numbers, whistling softly.

"Holy fuck. Look." You peer and your eyes go wide, it's more than even Satoru and you make, but Nanami doesn't bother looking at it, he's too enraptured with his cum leaking from your pretty pussy, fingering the sticky substance slowly. You squeak a bit at it, Satoru sets the phone down, shoving at the big hulk of a man lapping his own cum off his finger. "Stream is over, Nanami."

"Shouldn't we help clean her up, Gojo?" Nanami flicks his tongue on your overstimulated clit, tasting the mix of you and moaning.

Satoru sighs then. "Bend over, sweetheart."

Satoru's words surprise you, soon you're being eaten out by both of them, lapping their own cum out of your holes off camera, messy and fucking filthy, cum dripping out of their mouths as they moan, while you're pushing more of their cum, rocking back and forth on their mouths, gripping each of their napes of their neck and fucking their faces.

"What about something... off set?" Nanami whispers, teeth nipping your clit, Satoru moans, cock ready to go again, feeling your body tremble between the two of them. "If you want, darling."

"Your choice, baby." Your hips jerk as Satoru touches you, your thighs trembling.

"Yes, please," You kiss the cum off Nanami's lips, before kissing Satoru, cum swapping between the three of your mouths, before their fingers are both inside your sore little cunt at once, the money wracks up as the threesome goes wild, but the two men clearly aren't done fighting for who can make you cum harder, and you can't complain as you're dazed, fucked out and drooling on both of them.

Satoru is sure he's won, but Nanami thinks he just might have a chance with you, when you're squirting all over him again, he could swear he made you cum more than Satoru, but he'll keep it to himself.

For now.

Hope you enjoyed the fucking filth ahahah <3

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