#with this being the 8 ball last night i had to make something for it. song of alllllll fucking time ough

[natsusleftbootyhole]

In half broken japanese, i wrote to you

ft. 2nd yr bakugo x 2nd yr gn-reader, (+ small hints of izuku, ochaco, mina + kiri)

summary: an attempt to make your ex katsuki jealous, the attempt backfires. (small hints of crack/unhingedness)

type of ff: small angst to fluff

warnings: TOXIC EXES, deadass they cannot stop being petty, swearing obvi, bakugo being desperate, mention of ships : Mini x kirishima + ochaco x toga (however if you dont like these ships, imagine they're really good friends instead :P)

translations: 愛してる oh 愛して: I love you oh i love you.

authors note: HEYY, first fanfic in a while, i hope you like it ≽^•⩊•^≼, also izuku is implied to be questioning his sexuality in the story, but to make it clear he does NOT have a crush on reader. hes just a good pal

"愛してる oh 愛してる"

Katsuki Bakugo wasn't a man who tended to show affection, he often acted indifferent to your acts of love.

Take last years valentines day for example, your first (and only) valentines together. You saw all your other friends get teddy bears and flowers from their lovers, the thought of receiving flowers and chocolates from kats made your heart swell. 8 pm. The only message he sent you that day, your smile widened as you hurried to get ready in your date night attire, doing your hair just right to match the outfit. Only to be crushed when he showed up, empty handed and confused at your attire.

"what the fuck are you wearing" he scoffed. You looked down and saw him in his usual gym wear, an old vest and basketball shorts.

"you said to be ready by 8... im confused, dont you have something planned for valentines?"

there was a beat of silence before katsuki finally spoke up again, only for him to burst out laughing.

"you're joking right? why would i waste my time on valentines, its pointless anyways - just there to spend money on useless shit, i told you to be ready by 8 for the gym. now come on, we're sparing today"

...

`are you fucking serious`, you thought. Your face fell as bakugo turned to the door of your dorm and started walking away, not even looking behind him to see if you were following.

The door slammed shut as the memories of what happened ran through your head.

you grabbed your phone, eyes stinging from the tears brimming your eyes, clicking on katsukis contact.

You pressed the block button. He's gone. It's for the best, you repeat over and over again.

it's for the best.

at least thats what you told yourself, you were distraught. Although katsuki didn't express his love as often as you would like him to or the fact that he got exceptionally jealous when you were around any man, or the fact that he still kept you at arms length, even after months of dating. He still had his moments, like when he would remember the tiniest details about your stories, or the way he always stared lovingly at you, when he thought you weren't looking.

This is gonna be a difficult few months, how could you get over him?

The 10 months since your split has gone by relatively fast, for you anyway. you were devastated for the first 4 months, until you found out katsuki had been messaging a girl from another school, her name was camie? cassie?, you didn't care. after that you lost all sadness for the blond bastard. Instead, you didn't care for the name bakugo katsuki. instead, you started to warm up to the "extras", one being izuku, you could even say that the two of you became very good friends.

Katsuki knew he messed up, he knew he messed up when his mother tore him apart for "losing such a nice S/O", he knew he messed up trying to be petty, messaging camie when he didn't even like her to get a reaction out of you. he knew he messed up when he saw you slowly get over him, the long lasting looks you shared with deku. out of everyone, why did it have to be fucking deku.

14th December 2024

As a way to thank the students for their continual hard work, the school implemented a few seasonal balls a year, only 2 months away was the valentines ball. and you were dreading it.

All of your girl friends had their lovers, ochako had her "secret" villain girlfriend and mina had kirishima, a few of the other class mates had each other as well. it felt depressing, but its not like katsuki would even take you to the ball if you were still dating... would he?

who cares, that chapter is closed, its time to officially move on.

The next day at school, you were sitting around the lunch table with mina and ochako, ranting to them about how you needed to offically get over Katsuki.

"-AND he would never send me good morning or goodnight messages, he would barely even message me at all, let alone talk to me in school. Its like he was embarrassed of me. That i was too weak to be seen with him. Maybe thats why he was messaging that girl cassie or whatever her name was." you paused to breath, and take a sip of your drink. "...i need to get over him."

"girl, you only just realised that. Hm but i dont know, eijiro told me that he hasnt been dealing with the breakup all that well either" mina interrupted before going back to her ramen.

before you could question mina about what she meant uraraka buted in.

"ohhh, i have a plan..you`ll get over bakugo in your own time, but while you heal.. why dont you be a little petty. pay him back from the whole camie situation" She smirked before going back on her phone.

"Girl, i swear toga is rubbing her evilness on you.... it is a good plan tho" mina smirked. they both turned to look at you, with smirks on their faces.

You looked back and forth between the girls before sighing.

"what did you have in mind".

1 month to go to the ball. and the girls and you have slowly setting you plan into action, even including eijiro in your little plan. all you had to do was finally ask.

you could feel yourself shaking as you walked the short walk to izukus room, trying to control your breathing. `what is he says no, what if he thinks this is rude and disrespectful, what if he tells kats your plan??!`

the voices stopped as you finally reached izukus room, its now or never.

KNOCK KNOCK

the sound echoed before the green haired cutie opened his door and welcomed you inside. This wasn't the first time you`ve been in izukus room alone before, at first you thought izuku had a crush on you and thats why he would often stare at you or get very shy around you, turns out he was incredibly fascinated with your quirk but was too shy to talk you you about it. When he finally came up to you to explain the situation, you actually laughed so hard you ended up on the floor cry laughing. and you've been best friends ever since. nothing more.

"i need you're help" you start.

"okayyy..."

"its to do with katsuki"

The room fell silent has his expression changed from confusion to smirking.

"what with..." he sounded cheeky, like he knew something that you didnt. you gave him a weird look and carried on.

"soo, me and the girls were talking. Would it be okay if we pretend to be a couple for the ball. we wont have to kiss or anything like that, just be matching and stay close to each other for the whole evening. i realised that i officially needed to get over katsuki. but while im doing that i wanted to get back at him for the whole camie thing. will you help me out, i know you're one of the people he doesn't like and you're such a good friend that i thought it wouldn't be weird to ask you, right.." You were rambling, you know that but hopefully he understands your point and agrees.

A shocked but smirking izuku greats you when you finally look up from your lap.

"Fuck yea i will, anything to annoy kacchan"

You both burst out laughing and get to planning straight away.

over the next few months, you and izuku became inseparable, from walking to class, going to lunch together and hanging out in each others rooms every week. in all honestly, in pissed katsuki off. What was going on, why were you spending so much time with him of all people. why should he care, you're over. he should move on. but he cant. He was so in-love with you... is he still? he doesn't know.

One night, he decided to call eijiro. he needed to talk to someone, the thoughts of you have been fogging his mind, the way you changed your hair, it complemented you more. you started embracing your hobbies more, taking more photos and posting more. you seemed happier, like how you seemed when you were together. He hates not being apart of your happiness.

"eijiro, im fucked man.. i cant stop thinking of Y/N"

"dude, i heard they're going to the ball thing with izuku, try talk to them after the ball"

Fuck. He knows that you two were close but, going to a valentines dance together?

"eh i dont know, i dont think i could see them wrapped around his all, all lovey dovey and shit"

"well im going so, if you wanna come at-least youll have some company".

Valentines day, 2025

3 shots down, music blaring, and now after 3 hours, you were finally ready and prepared for the ball. grabbing your phone and taking one last vodka shot with mina, you hastily make your way down the dorm stairs and out into the chilly air of valentines night.

Leaning against the brick wall of the dorm building, you stare up into the sky. 'Would it be better if I was going with katsuki.. maybe.. would he change. who knows.'

Hearing the dorm building door open, you see a slightly tipsy izuku stumbling before catching your eye and speed walking over to you.

"Y/N, omg, you look so gorgeous.. I might even be falling for you." He gave you a long teasing smirk before you both burst out laughing.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a certain blonde stare down izuku. He looked like he wanted to grab his neck and blow his head off. If it wasn't for kirishima physically holding bakugo back, he would've done it.

"When is our Uber getting here to take us to the ball?! I'm fucking freezing"

izuku checks his phone, and a few seconds later, a sleek, black car pulls into the driveway.

"it's here," he takes your hand and walks you to the car before opening your door for you.

The scowl that marked bakugos' face was deadly. He was plotting his plan of action tonight. He needs to win you back. He craves you.

Throughout the night, you and katsuki kept making eye contact. much to your displeasure. regardless of the constant reminding of his existence. You dance the night away(mostly dancing and grinding with izuku, in hopes to make katsuki jealous) drinking spiked coke and laughing as hard as you had in the last year, you hadn't laughed this hard without katsuki. Fuck, He looks so good in that all black suit.

You miss him, and you miss him a lot. and you need to throw up.

Begrudgingly, you made your way towards the balcony to catch some fresh air, leaning against the beautiful concrete railing, staring out against the night sky.

"....Y/N"

you recognise that voice.

whipping your head around, your hands gripping on to the railing to steady yourself.

"katsuki.." He looks desperate... has he been crying?!

"fuck. I'm so mad at you, I love you. I love you so fucking much. the day you left me was the worst day of my life. you were my sunshine, my reason to keep fighting. I know I fucked up with you, I took you for granted, please trust me when I say that I've changed. the whole thing with camie was so stupid that I should never have done that. I know that now. I never wanted her. i need you back with me, I need to be yours. you look so good today, and watching deku parade you around like you were his made me so fucking mad. I know you don't want him, eijiro told me your plan, I understand why you did it. and your plan fucking worked. it made me realise I didn't want any other man to have the privilege of calling such a perfect person their lover. please, I'll be better Y/N. I'm begging you"

You were shocked, you froze. The burning of your eyes and the feeling of tears streaming down your cheeks. You broke into a full blown sob, running into katsukis arms and crying into his very expensive suit.

"woah! woah! are you okay?!" He grabbed you by the shoulders and pulled you back to observe your face.

"Please tell me you're not messing with me.." The sound of you forcing out words throughout sobs broke katsukis' heart. he had hurt you, so bad. But he's going to fix it. He needs to.

"Y/N i promise, if you take me back i promise I will grow and talk and love you the way you deserve to be loved."

"... you're going to have to gain my trust again.. I want to try again, so bad, but you need to understand how badly you treated me and how you hurt me. I still love you, I never stopped loving you. I don't think I ever could."

He nodded and pulled you into his chest. The faint noise of a slow dance played from inside the closed balcony doors. he grabbed your hand in his, and held your waist with his other hand. swaying to the sound of the music.

You both smile softly at each other, resting your foreheads on each other's.

"You still owe me two years' worth of valentines celebrations," you giggle, closing your eyes, still swaying.

"Trust me, you're getting spoilt.."

a beat of silence fell upon the crisp night air, before katsuki spoke up whispering in your ear.

..愛して..

[thekidsarentalright]

“what did it ever do for me,” I say…

[roosterforme]

Mr. Right Now Part 8 | Hangman x Reader

Summary: The hours with Jake are ticking down, and you agree with every suggestion he makes so you can justify staying a little longer. When you ask for something that goes against one of his lessons from the weekend, you can tell how badly he wants to be the exception to the rule.

Warnings: angst, fluff, smut, adult language, p in v intercourse, 18+

Length: 3500 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Why is Jake on my masterlist!? Mr. Right Now masterlist

Jake could feel your warm hand low on his abs as your lips skimmed along his neck and his stubbled cheek. Soft skin was all he knew as his fingers trailed down the length of your side. Eyes still closed, he treated himself to a handful of your hip and rear end, giving a little squeeze as he whispered, "Darlin'."

"Jake," you sighed next to his ear, and he finally opened his eyes. For once, being awake was just as good as dreaming. "How'd you know it was me?"

He took your chin in his hand where you were laying halfway on top of him, and he stroked your lips with his thumb as he asked, "Who else would have spent the night with me?" Your subtle little shrug and sweet face made his heart clench. Besides the fact that he generally never let anyone share his bed for more than an hour or two, he already knew the way your body felt in his hands. Every soft curve. Every dip. Every bit of your silky skin. He knew it, and he couldn't get enough of it.

"I don't know," you replied softly before he kissed you.

He wanted to tell you that you were the only one who had worked her way into his heart since he'd been living in San Diego. He wanted to tell you to just leave your fake ID here, because you wouldn't be needing it any longer. If there was something you wanted from a man, he would happily give it to you from now on. You could come back next weekend and do all of this over again with him. 

"Just you," he promised, breaking the kiss as your fingernails gently scraped along his skin and through his trimmed pubic hair. "Jesus," he groaned as you cupped his balls beneath the bedding. You made him cum so many times yesterday, he was almost surprised to find you were getting him hard again now as the early morning sunlight filtered in through the window.

Your expression was almost smug as you leaned in close enough so your lips barely grazed his. He could only hear his beating heart, the ocean in the distance and your soft voice saying, "Tell me what you want."

You had your hand gripping his cock tight as he rolled you onto your back. He thrust into your palm as he grunted, "Did you forget your lessons? That's not how this works."

As soon as he ran two fingers gently through your pussy, your hold on him loosened, and he slid down your body until his mouth was on your belly. You tried to keep your legs closed as you whispered, "But we fucked last night before bed. What if I... taste weird? Like a condom?"

Jake let his cheek rest on your hip as he looked up at your face. "Will you let me be the judge of things down here?"

You giggled as he traced your belly button with his thumb. "I guess. It is kind of your specialty." Slowly you spread your legs for him, and he continued on to where he wanted to be. He knew you loved this, and he was good at it. And you still tasted fucking sweet.

He settled in with his hands on the backs of your thighs, spreading you open with his thumbs. He hummed, kissing your clit as you gasped and squirmed. "No issues here, Darlin'," he promised. "Should I keep going?"

"Yes," you whined, letting your heels dig into his back while you tugged on his hair. 

"Thought so," he whispered with a smug grin. But there was no rush. You could pull his hair and bruise his back to your heart's content, but he was going to make this last for you. It was Sunday, and he'd be driving you back to your dorm later. He didn't know when he'd get this opportunity again. If at all.

"Jake," you moaned, hips rolling gently against his mouth as he sucked on you. "You're so good."

Every time you told him he was doing a good job, he just wanted to keep going. If he could make you come and keep you asking for more in bed, maybe he could ask you for more out of it.

He lapped at your pussy, wanting to taste you everywhere as you started to squeeze your thighs around him. Your body and your tells were already familiar to him. "Not yet," he crooned, licking a long stripe from your opening to your clit. "Be patient."

"Feels too good," you whispered, voice ragged with desire. You couldn't stop squirming, and Jake couldn't stop smiling. With each roll of your hips, he ground his cock down against the bed, and when you came on his tongue, he needed to get off.

"Fuck me," you commanded, eyes wild as Jake rubbed your pretty pussy with his fingers, making sure your orgasm was drawn out long and loud.

He licked the taste of you from his lips and grunted, "Yeah? You want me to?"

"Fuck me, Jake!"

He was on his feet in a flash, nearly tripping on the bathroom tile to get to the box of condoms. It was the last one, and he was already tearing open the wrapper and rolling it on as he made his way back to you. Your pussy was wet, glistening in the sunlight as you lay there shamelessly. Needy. Bedding a mess. He was a mess.

As he took your hand, he leaned in close and kissed you, letting you taste yourself. "How about we try a new position?" he asked, and your eyes grew wider as you nodded. He heaped up the pillows against his headboard, sat against them and rubbed his thigh. "Take me for a ride, Darlin'."

Your lips were hovering over his as you whispered, "I'm not sure if I'm going to like it this way." Then your hand met his cock, practically sending Jake over the edge as you straddled him. He was pressed to your entrance, and then you were sinking down around him as you moaned. It was long and sweet sounding, and it turned into the sentence, "Never mind. I think I'm going to love this."

He was going to as well. His hands ended up on your tits as you arched your back, taking him to the hilt. "Lesson number ten," he grunted, and you met his eyes as you wiggled on his cock. "Experimenting with positions and techniques is usually always a good idea."

You nodded as you bounced up and down on him like you'd done this a thousand times. "It never hurts to try. Got it," you said with a grin as you bit your lip.

Jake stroked your nipple and said, "As long as you're with someone you trust."

"Right," you whispered as his hands slid down to your hips to guide your movements. "Oh, god!"

--------------------------------

Jake knew what your body wanted and needed even before you did. Straddling him on his bed with your back arched meant his cock was hitting places inside you that you didn't even know existed. And now his big hands were helping you along as he stroked that perfect spot that left you breathless with your heart pounding. He eased you up and then guided you back down as you met his green eyes.

You trusted him. You knew he'd get you off, and you knew he wouldn't hurt you. One big hand ended up on your belly as he thrust up to meet you, and that little grin that you liked was back on his lips. "Jake," you gasped, grinding down on him until he was nodding. "Does this feel as good for you as it does for me?"

"Better," he answered immediately. "God, I can guarantee it's better. You're so tight, Darlin'. It's a fucking miracle I didn't cum yet."

He kept trying to say it wasn't about the guy, but it was. It was about him, too. You liked watching him come apart for you. Flushed cheeks and wide pupils and deep, guttural grunts. Everytime he fell apart, your heart soared.

"Shit. Shit," he panted, head tipped back, veins in his neck straining. "Damn it, I'm close."

You leaned in and kissed his ear, letting him guide your hips in the exact tempo he wanted, and you were surprised by how much he slowed you down. "Good," you whispered as your fingers threaded through his soft hair. "I want you to feel good."

His name was on your lips as your clit rubbed his rough pubic hair, and you gave him an involuntary little squeeze, surprising yourself by how close you were now.

"Oh, fuck," he grunted. "You're close, too."

Once again, he could tell exactly what was going on, and he rubbed himself against you. He wasn't going to let himself finish with you on the cusp, and you wanted to thank him, but you couldn't speak. Your head tipped back as you held onto him, and after a few more beats, your pleasure crashed against you like a wave. You were moaning his name and fucking him, and in your mind, you looked even better than a pornstar.

"God damn it," he growled, palming your breasts and making you feel so good as he came, too. His mouth was open, and his cock was twitching inside you as he held you in place. "God damn it." 

You did this to him. 

His lips crashed against yours, hands all over your body. "Did that feel good?" you asked between kisses.

"You always feel good," he replied, rolling you carefully onto your back. "Always." His body was above yours, expression open as he said, "Tell me what we're doing next. Breakfast? Another bath? Or you want me to drive you home?"

You smiled, not quite ready to leave yet. "First a bath. You can have a breakfast beer."

Jake chuckled and kissed your neck. "That does sound good. Go get the water ready." When he helped you climb out of bed, he gave you a playful swat on your rear end before vanishing out into the hallway as he removed the condom. You found the empty box and a few wrappers on the bathroom floor, tossing them into the trash as the tub filled with steamy water. You had successfully finished off the condoms, and now there were none on the shelf as you grabbed two washcloths. 

You were smiling and brushing your teeth as Jake strolled in with a bottle of Sam Adams and a wine glass of ice water. Your heart skipped a beat as he set them both down on the edge of the tub before turning off the water and brushing his teeth. You dipped down into the water as he watched you in the mirror.

"Remember, we stay in until it's cold," he told you after he spit out his toothpaste.

"Weirdo," you muttered, and a second later, he was climbing in, splashing water onto the floor as you squealed with laughter. 

---------------------------

"What's for breakfast today?" you asked, arms around Jake's neck.

He took a sip of his beer and rubbed your thigh beneath the water. "I don't know... if I make eggs again, you'll just complain about how I eat mine sunny side up. Tell me it's wrong just like my pizzas."

"Everything you like to eat is a red flag."

Jake smirked and licked his lips before kissing you softly. "I like to eat your pussy."

You started laughing, and you buried your face against his neck. "That's a green flag."

"Thought so."

He took another long sip of beer, swallowing just as you kissed him again. "You taste good," you whispered after licking his lips.

"You're too young to have beer." His statement was a reminder of how he was in a different place in life than you were, but he chose to ignore the repercussions of what that could mean in a few hours.

"I've had it before. It tastes better on a kiss than from a keg."

It was a statement like that that made him take another sip before setting the bottle down. You were authentic and engaging, and he'd been entranced by you since he picked your fake ID up off the floor. He cupped your face in his hands, wishing the water would never get cold.

Your eyes fluttered closed, and your lips parted in a soft smile as he leaned in to kiss you. Every way you responded to him was exciting. Right now your fingers were wet and running up his neck and into his hair as you gave him the sweetest kisses. 

You were too good for anyone else. You were too good for him, but at least he could admit it. And now he was reminded of why it was a bad idea to bring you here in the first place. He should have never talked himself into believing he should have you. He was an idiot for thinking it would be easy to give you up.

"What if we make pancakes?" you asked, reaching for your ice water after you broke the kiss.

Jake just nodded, keeping his hands on your body and letting you wash his hair. The first time you shivered in the cooling water, he tried to get you to stay put, but the second time, you started to drain the tub. "Let's go eat," you told him easily, and he helped you out of the tub and into a fluffy towel.

"Pick out something to wear," he whispered before kissing your ear. "I'll meet you in the kitchen."

Jake pulled on some clean underwear, vanishing down the hallway, hoping for a few seconds without you to clear his mind, but it didn't work. Little reminders of you were all over the place. Your mini skirt was on the couch. Pizza box on the dining room table. Empty wine glasses in his sink.

"Fuck," he muttered, turning on the coffee maker as he ran his fingers through his damp hair. "You fucked up."

"What did you fuck up?" you asked, and when he spun around, you were standing there in his TOP GUN tee shirt, biting your lip. 

He cleared his throat. "I forgot to turn the coffee pot on before we got in the bath," he replied lamely.

You just shrugged before bending to get eggs and butter from the refrigerator, and Jake was treated to the perfect view of your ass and pussy as he tried to figure out how to get two mugs down from the cabinet without dropping them. Alarm bells were going off in his head as his heart and body responded to you the same way they had been for two days. He knew he wasn't going to survive this weekend, and now he was paying for it as he just kept getting himself in deeper.

----------------------------

It was almost noon by the time your belly was full of pancakes, and even though Jake's kitchen was a mess, he coaxed you over to the couch when you tried to clean up. He put a movie on as you stretched out, but neither of you were paying attention to it. He tasted like coffee and maple syrup, and all you wanted to do was keep kissing him.

When he pulled away, you pulled him back as he laughed. "What?" you whispered. "You taste good."

His hand was drifting up under the shirt you were wearing as he leaned on his elbow on the cushion next to your head. "You're so soft," he murmured, and you leaned in to kiss him again. "And sweet."

You made out with him, fingers in his hair as he traced shapes along your side. He was handsome and funny, and you smiled against his lips when he called you a smartass. This weekend had been so much more than you anticipated, and you didn't want to return to your dorm and your roommate and your classes. You wanted to belong here. But he was older than you. He had tag chasers and a bar tab at the Hard Deck. He had a decade-long career in the Navy.

Jake's arm wrapped around you in that way you were used to, and he curled up behind you on the couch as another movie automatically started on his TV. You couldn't believe you'd been kissing him for that long, but now you were yawning as he settled in against your back. When you shivered, he pulled the throw blanket down over both of you, and you closed your eyes.

"You wore me out," you sighed. "Your stamina is commendable, Jake."

His lips brushed the shell of your ear as his thumb ran along your belly button. "Let's take a nap, Darlin'." But you were already drifting off as he said, "Wearing you out is a pleasure."

You weren't sure how long you dozed, but his soft breathing made you feel safe, even when you woke again. It was intimate. None of this was anything you were used to, but it seemed like things you would do with your boyfriend, if you had one. 

An image of Cooper flashed into your mind. Two short days ago, he was all you could think about. Your only concern had been whether or not you would be good enough for him. But maybe that wasn't the key here after all.

Jake's fingers flexed on your belly. "Let me kiss you," he mumbled, and you carefully turned so you were facing him like before. This man could have anything he wanted. He never made you feel like you had to perform a certain way for him to want to kiss or touch you. He never made you feel inadequate or stupid. You wished he would tell you what he wanted. You hoped it was more of you.

"Oh," you whispered as your hand eased down along his body to his semi hard length. You cupped him through his underwear and marveled over the shade of pink rising in his cheeks. His lips were parted, and he made an indecent sound when you gave him a little squeeze. You could not believe he was ready to go again.

"Don't look so surprised," he rasped, green eyes half lidded. "You're kissing me and touching me. Of course I'm going to get hard. Lesson eleven: you could turn any man on. Don't second guess your appeal."

You kept your eyes on his face as you slowly tucked your hand inside his underwear. He was thick and velvety soft, and your mouth was watering as your touch made him impossibly harder. He gasped softly and started to nip at your lips, letting you know you were in control again as his fingers stayed soft on your hip. And you could feel yourself getting wet from that simple touch and the way he was looking at you.

"Will you fuck me again?" you asked, letting your lips brush his. You knew you had to leave soon, and you were starting to think that this constant ache for him would never go away. But instead of doing the smart thing here, you wrapped your leg around his hip when he gave you a filthy kiss.

You pulled his underwear down a little bit, and Jake was rubbing himself against your wet pussy. "I would love to be intimate with you again," he replied, and all of those words in that order made you shiver in anticipation as the blanket ended up on the floor. "But we used up all the condoms from my bathroom. Let's get one from your purse."

He sat up on the couch with you on his lap, his cock tapping your opening in excitement, driving you absolutely wild. 

"I want to feel you without a condom."

Jake hissed as he took a deep breath. "Oh fuck." His head tipped back as he swallowed hard, grinding out his words through gritted teeth. "Darlin', you should always use a condom. Hell, I always use one. Don't let guys cut corners, remember?"

You kissed his Adam's apple and said, "You're not other guys. I trust you."

He met your eyes as you squirmed a bit on his lap, so aroused you couldn't sit still. His tip was resting against your clit as he panted and cupped your face with both hands. "God damn it," he grunted. "Listen. I'm not some asshole college student. I get tested regularly, okay?"  When you nodded fervently, he added, "Nobody else. You understand? Nobody else gets to have you without one."

His big hand slid down to your neck as you whimpered, "Just you." Then he was hauling you off to his bedroom.

-------------------------------

Oh boy. Oh boy. Possessive Jake, hear our prayers before it's too late. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 9

@blahehblah

@sotalife

@desert-fern

@furiouspiespytaco

@rosiahills22

@daggerspare-standingby

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[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ to have & to hold ]❜

ft. logan howlett x f! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ you allow him to possess you entirely, body & soul┊1.2k words

kinktober 2024: oct 8. virginity loss

setting: logan (2017) old man! logan contains: fluffy smut!! dom logan & sub reader┊age gap, virginity loss, receiving oral & fingering, unprotected piv, abrupt ending

➤ author's note: i’m sorry for this being short and the abrupt ending, i’m just so tired from college because my substitute professor is a bitch and i have to work twice as hard just to get a 70% T-T the single mother reader is ending up to have three parts so look forward to that when kinktober is over teeheehee

your old man isn’t sure what kind of small deed of goodwill he must have done decades ago to deserve you, but it makes him perform more of them in his day-to-day life thanks to the existence of the biggest blessing of his miserable life. every time he comes back after a long day of work and dealing with customers of varying irritation levels, there you are patiently waiting for him no matter how late into the night it was. you help take off his suit jacket and tie in well-rehearsed moments, whistling a little old-timey tune on your lips and asking him how his day was.

he’s never really been a talkative guy, so most of the time he’ll just say it was fine and leave it at that, but occasionally, he’s willing to complain and vent about something that happened that got on his nerves. all the while, you’re finishing off a freshly cooked meal with garnish and serving it to him with a smile, listening to everything he has to say and massaging his weary muscles. 

usually, however, you’re the one doing all of the talking, telling him about what happened today at work with that annoying co-worker and how you got invited to the wedding of an old friend from high school. he settles himself in the worn leather recliner and feels himself relax with your voice almost acting like a form of meditative music, and even if he doesn’t look like it, he listens to every word— you can tell because he doesn’t turn the newspaper page once and asks little questions like “who?” “when did that happen?” “is that so?” instead of just humming deafly.

he doesn’t even remember how you ended up moving in with him and acting like his housewife, giving him a taste of domestic life he didn’t realize he was yearning for. you’re just a stubborn little lady, he guesses, remaining persistent about how much you liked him despite his claims that you should steer clear of a bad man like him. he’s glad it ended up that way though, he couldn’t imagine where he would be without you by his side if you listened to him and went off with a human your own age who didn’t have the shackles he did. 

there’s always a bit of lingering guilt regarding the last part, worried that he’s holding you back from fully experiencing life like a ball and chain bound to your ankle, but you were an adult who was mature enough to make your own decisions. if you didn’t want this, you wouldn’t have spent over a year trying to pursue it with someone as headstrong as him. 

sometimes logan dozes off in that armchair, allowing you to drape a blanket over him and place a kiss on his forehead with a whisper of sweet dreams for the cherry on top. sometimes you coax him to join you in bed where it’s more comfortable, tangling your legs with his and clinging onto his frame like he was a giant living teddy bear. maybe he’ll do the same if he’s feeling particularly soft tonight instead of sleeping on his back like a soldier on active duty would. both of you always get a night of better sleep in the presence of the other, holding onto the dead weight of the other’s still body, feeling the slow rise and fall of their chest, and listening to their steady heartbeat.

yet your relationship had never gone past heated makeout sessions, not until tonight when you pleaded with him so sweetly to help you relieve the ache between your legs that you couldn’t fix yourself.

he’s hesitant at first, surprised at the slight and unfamiliar feeling of fear tugging at his consciousness. is this really okay? is a lovely angel like you really asking a dirty old man like him with the blood of dozens on his hands to be your first experience of something so intimate? he’s profoundly aware that he’s never been a good man, but maybe he would start now and let you go in your own direction…

before he could say anything, you reach out to kiss him, so tender and full of adoration to ease his worries. the way you look at him while gasping his name and making pleas for him is almost overwhelming with how blown-out your pupils are from need, looking at him like he was the only other soul in the world— like he was the only other soul in the universe who was meant to complete you.

he asks you one more time if you’re sure, absolutely sure, before taking the opportunity to 

taste the sweetness of your arousal and quickly realize that he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get enough anymore, scraping at the soft skin of your inner thighs with his beard although the pressure in your core overpowered the feeling of friction. your hands find their way into his graying hair and tug on them whenever he swirls his tongue around your engorged clit, making him groan and repeat the motion until you gush all over his mouth.

then he drags a calloused finger along your folds, collecting your slick and instinctively licking his lips at the sight of it despite just eating you out seconds before. his eyes aren’t really what they used to be, he briefly wishes he had his glasses on so that he could watch your virgin pussy take his index followed by his middle. even if he can’t quite see it clearly, he can certainly feel your walls pulsating at the intrusion as you let out a breathy whine.

you feel a bit dizzy already from your first proper orgasm, much less from the pleasurable stretch of his fingers starting to move in a scissoring motion as your cheeks burned in embarrassment from how intently he was staring like a man hypnotized. if you were in your right mind, you would have asked him to quit it, but all you were focused on was the unfamiliar feeling of tension in your torso while he praised how tight you were.

logan is exhibiting more gentleness with you than he’s ever been with anything in all his two hundred years, scared of hurting you and treating you like a fragile porcelain doll. you basically need to beg him to fuck you right because you worry you’ll be far too exhausted to continue if he continues like this, already reaching peak at least three times now and needing to pull at his belt to free his throbbing erection.

kiss him when he lines himself up with you and slowly pushes in, allowing you to feel every inch of him and taste yourself on his lips. claw long scratches into his back as you take him, allowing his regenerative powers slowly take effect yet still being able to leave lasting marks in his skin for him to admire the next day. tell him you love him when he finally bottoms out in you, watching him through teary eyes as he rests his forehead on yours, and listen to his beating heart open up to you as he tells you he does too.

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.8 a little cottage on the countryside

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. 8/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 13.5k (...i'm gonna go take a nap lol)

a/n. hello hellooo my dear kickoff readers, hope you're having a nice day so far! this is the longest chapter yet, so i hope you enjoy <3 it's also got one of my favorite tropes everrr hehehehe you could probs guess what it is halfway through. see you at the bottom and happy reading! sorry if there are typos i didn't proofread this one as much as the others haha

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

You don’t cry much these days, but when you do, it’s usually out of nowhere. 

Like now, as you stand in the school’s photo lab, developing the shots that you took for UTokyo’s game against Osaka last week, and you have to swipe at the tears on your cheek threatening to fall all over the captured images of grass, benches, nets, banners, stands, and him. 

One of the photographs catches your eye, and you pick it up from the table. It’s a candid moment you took of Gojo on the field right before you confessed to him. You had spotted him first while the team was doing their warm-up, and you thought he looked nice from the way he had that concentrated look on his face that you’ve learned to love. But right before you clicked the shutter, he had turned away, chasing after the ball, and so all you could capture was his back facing you as he looked off ahead into the distance. You wondered if that was how it’s always been this whole time–with you looking at him while he’s looking off at something else. It was a depressing thought, but your mind had a tendency for sadness since that day.

The sound of the photo lab door opening jolts you back to reality, and you quickly straighten your posture and wipe your cheek with your sleeve, trying to sniffle as discreetly as possible, then set the picture down. Your fellow film major greets you quietly, asking if you’re still using the developer liquid, to which you say no, then hand it over to them. You stuff your photographs into a folder and head out the door.

You make it across campus to the Film & Media Studies building, then up to the third floor where your professor's office is. His door was ajar, but you still knocked before entering.

He looks up from the photographs he was grading. “Oh, y/n, hello. How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you, yourself?” you ask, taking a seat on the chair that was fixed to face his desk. You pull your tote bag into your lap.

“Great, thanks. How can I help you?”

You slide the folder to him over the scraped, worn burgundy wood of his desk. “I still had to turn in my photos for the assignment due last week. I appreciate the extension.”

“Ah, right,” he says, taking the folder from you. “I’ll get around to grading them. I’m curious, what did you end up choosing for your subject matter?” He tucks the folder underneath the pile that was to his side.

“I took photos of the soccer team’s game against Osaka Uni on Thursday last week,” you tell him.

He frowns at you. “Film cameras don’t have that level of zoom, though. I do hope you followed the rubric guidelines for central object to frame ratio, otherwise I’ll have to take off points.” 

“Oh– I did. I took the photos from the sidelines,” you tell him, panicking already. 

His eyes widened. “From the sidelines? On the field?”

You nod at him, fidgeting with your bag in your lap.

“Wow, I can’t say I’ve ever had a student take photos like that before. That’s pretty challenging to pull off, though,” he says, sitting up straighter, “...you mind if I take a look at them right now?”

You shake your head. “Oh, no. Not at all.”

He pulls your folder out from the bottom of the pile, then gently slips the photos out of them, rearranging them all across his desk. He leans down closer to study some of them, tilting his head curiously at others, furrowing his brow in concentration to a select few. “These are incredible.”

You take in a deep breath. “Thank you, professor.”

He nods at you with acknowledgement, and you watch him as he studies the images quietly for another minute, then looks up at you. “Is there anything else I can help you with?” he asks when he notices you’re still seated.

“Ah…yes, there was something I wanted to ask you.”

“What is it?” He taps his pen on the desk.

“I was wondering if you could write me a letter of recommendation for the film graduate program.”

He nods, like he was expecting the question. “Yeah, of course. Just send me your resume and portfolio.” He taps eagerly on one of your images. “Please send me digitals for these, too.”

You let out a relieved exhale. “Yes, I will. Thank you so much, professor, I really appreciate it.”

You left the building feeling extremely relieved about your professor agreeing to write your recommendation, but also feeling sad because you couldn’t tell Gojo about it, since this was the full-circle moment for the little arrangement the two of you had. There’s a thought that considers texting him, and you take out your phone then go to his name, but your thumbs just can’t bring yourself to send him a message.

The days of the week go by in a blur, and between every single little moment in life, your mind always wanders to him. It’s hard to get over someone when you’re surrounded by them. Like late at night while you’re editing the digitals of the game last week to send to your professor, and you find yourself staring at the pictures you’ve taken of him. It’s hard to get over him when the school worships the soccer team and you’re forced to see promotional banners and posters all over campus with his stupidly beautiful face in them. You didn’t have the heart to block him on Instagram, because you remember that time he teased you about how you didn’t follow him back, and you wonder if it would make him sad if you blocked him, so you just resorted to deleting the app instead. And although you were the one that asked for space from him, you were growing increasingly annoyed at how good he seemed to be at keeping it. 

The library wasn’t even much of a safe space either, since you overheard a group of girls the other day at a table arguing about which of the players on the team is the hottest, and so you find yourself doing your homework on a lovely Wednesday morning at your apartment instead. 

You lean back in your chair and look up at the ceiling, and then jump when you hear your phone ring, quickly turning it over to read the caller ID. Nobara. You accept the call, placing her on speaker, then set your phone back down on your desk. 

“Hey, Nobie, what’s up?”

“Hey, nothing much. Just wanted to ask if you wanted to hang out,” she says.

“Oh, I would love to, but I’m working on homework right now. It’s due in a couple of hours,” you sigh.

“Boo, you whore. For what class?”

“My stats 130 elective,” you say. “I’m a film major, why do I need to know statistics?” You tap your pen to your chin. “Actually, it might be valid.”

“Is that the class with the creepy professor?” she asks. “The one that got caught with a PornHub tab open while he was presenting his lecture slides.”

“Yeah.”

“I took his class last semester! I still have all my homework for it,” she exclaims on the other end, “do you want me to send it over?”

“Yes, omg, I could kiss you right now,” you groan, resting your head on your arm sprawled across your desk in exhaustion.

“So definite no to hang out?” 

“Sorry, I’ll reach out later though,” you sigh, “also, my car is still in repair…apparently something came up with the engine. So we can’t go far unless we invite Mina.”

“That’s fine, I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to come if we invite her just to chauffeur,” she says sarcastically. “By the way, how’d the pictures come along? For the newsletter?”

You lift your head up off of the desk in a panic. Shit. You were so focused on turning in your digitals of the game to your professor that you totally forgot you were supposed to send them to Utahime as well. “Oh my god, I forgot. When do they finalize the release again?”

“Isn’t it today at noon? I sent over film club’s photos this morning,” she says. 

You glance at the time. 11:56am. 

“Nobara, I’ve gotta go. I need to call Utahime, sorry,” you say. She acknowledges you, telling you to hurry, and then you hang up.

You call Utahime and scribble down on a sticky note to paste on your wall as a reminder to buy her a loving gift basket one of these days because of course she extends the release deadline just for you. You finish touching up the digitals and then send them to her via email, and after you finish your statistics homework, she calls you again to meet up somewhere nearby.

“Thanks so much for coming here,” Utahime says as she sits across from you at one of the local cafes you frequent. “Also, this chai latte is so good, I’m honestly surprised.”

You nod at her. “This place has great drinks.” You slide a folder across the table to her and she sets her drink down to accept it.

“Sorry if it was a hassle, but I just had to ask for physicals of these photos,” she sighs as she pulls them out. “They’re amazing, seriously, I gasped when I saw them. I’m used to sifting through a lot of professional sports photos for the newsletter, for all of the teams on campus, but I’ve never seen photos as charming as these. It could be the film photography aspect, since most of the ones I see are digital, but I’m seriously shocked you could capture shots like this at a rowdy men’s soccer match.”

You’re shaking your head at her. “Please don’t compliment me so much, I’ll cry. And it’s no issue, I had a spare set of physicals from when I developed them. You can keep them.” 

She smiles at you. “Okay, well then, I think it goes without saying that I’ll definitely be including them for the sports recap this week. I’ll send you the money soon, too.”

You clap your hands together and interlock your fingers. “I’m. So. Grateful. For. You.” 

She laughs across from you and takes another sip of her latte before sitting back slightly, glancing at the photos spread across the table. “Hm…how busy are you for the rest of the semester?”

You tilt your head at her and bring your coffee to your lips, taking a sip before setting it back down. “Not terribly busy, I quit my job last month so I’m just taking my assignments as they come and go.”

Utahime nods at you, a thoughtful expression on her face, and she smooths down the fabric of her shirt. “Okay, well, I got an email from the school this morning that one of the newsletter photographers for the men’s soccer team is moving to a different city, so they’re looking to fill in the position as soon as possible and they asked if I knew anyone,” she mentions, resting her elbow on the table and then placing her hand on her cheek. “They usually only hire professionals, but if I put a word in for you, they’d probably offer it to you.”

Your eyes widen at her from across the table, heart beating a bit faster in your chest. 

“They pay really well for a part-time job. It’s essentially full-time pay for part-time hours,” she continues, “but it’s probably because you’ll have to travel with the team to their away games, including unofficial matches and conferences. If you’re not that busy for the next two months, then I think it’d be a good opportunity for you to build experience.” 

You purse your lips together, considering her words. Although it’s a bit different from your long-term career plans, it was still a great way to get experience before graduate school. And besides, you needed the money, considering you quit your job last month and your savings were starting to run thin–never mind the fact that your car repair bill went from a few thousand yen to somewhere in the tens-of-thousands. And you would prefer to still be able to afford rent. Oh, and eat. Possibly still pay for Netflix.

But then there was the fact that having that kind of job meant that you would be spending a lot of time with the soccer team, and therefore increases the chances of running into Gojo. And you’re supposed to be staying away from him to get over your feelings. 

“It sounds like an amazing opportunity, really,” you start, “...but I can’t.”

Utahime frowns at you and sits up straight. “Really? I thought you’d be excited. Why not?”

You sigh. “It’s complicated.”

“y/n…” Utahime starts, “I don’t really know what’s going on in your head right now, but isn’t this your dream? For your work to reach people? I know it’s only a stepping stone, believe me I know very well the path to becoming any sort of artist is an uphill battle of hell, but I’ve known you for a while now. And I know how much your dreams mean to you, and how hard you’re willing to work for them.”

Your heart swells in our chest at Utahime’s words. She was right, and you were starting to get really sick of letting your fears hold you back from what you really wanted in life. “...you’re right, I’m sorry. I’d love to be considered for the position, if you could recommend me.”

She smiles and nods at you. “Will do.”

–

The email for the job offer comes surprisingly fast, and you quickly read through it before accepting. It wasn’t a horrible time commitment, given you’d only have to take pictures during active play during matches, give or take a couple hours before, and the photographers rotate between who takes up each of the conferences so the work was split up. You were able to meet a few of the newsletter photographers & journalists during the game last week, so you already knew some of them. The offer letter came attached with a full calendar of the soccer team’s practice schedule, official match schedule, unofficial match schedule, conference schedule, and other publicity schedule, and you’re shocked at how busy all the players must be. The fact that they still have time to be students–and for most of them, active participants in fraternities–was honestly beyond you. 

It seemed like they only had four more official matches left, two being away matches, along with a couple of unofficial matches that they may or may not participate in depending on how the season goes for them. 

Their next game was on Friday against Kyoto university, and you were scheduled to shoot for their sports conference the day following as well. So you find yourself on a train embarked for the countryside, and you peer out of the window with a nervous feeling in your stomach. The sparkling skyscrapers and bustling crowds of Tokyo gradually started to give way into sights of expansive lush greenery, picturesque and charming towns, and winding rivers surrounded by trees. The closer you got to Kyoto, the sky became more gray until a steady drizzle began to fall against the train window. When you reached the final station, the rain had dissipated, and the taxi ride to the hotel was only about fifteen minutes. The journey felt exhausting, and you were so incredibly ready to pass out in a comfy bed. 

You stood underneath a small sidewalk roof near the vending machines lining the outside of the hotel, trying to keep your bag and suitcase with all your equipment in it dry from the remnant soft mist of rain still lingering in the air.  

“Hey, Utahime, sorry to bother you so late,” you say, holding your phone between your shoulder and ear, “but is it the Hilton on 3rd street? Or on Main? Because if it’s the one on Main, then I may have messed up-”

You stop speaking when you hear a masculine voice down the road towards the left, echoing off of the lined up small shops along the sidewalk, and your heart could have recognized the sound anywhere. You’re swift to turn and face that direction, almost dropping your phone in the process, and you see him– the object of all your suffering lately. 

Gojo stood there, wide-eyed and stopped completely in his tracks as the recognition of you under the dim street lighting flashes across his face. He’s in pajamas– a red long-sleeve cotton shirt that looks so stupidly soft and comfortable it almost makes you emotional, with some matching checkered red pants. It was the most casual clothing you’ve ever seen him in. His hair appears damp, slightly tousled, from what you could assume was an effort to dry it off fast. And he had crocs on. In sports mode. You make a mental note to ask him about his charms and if he’s willing to trade any of them with you. But maybe some other day. When it doesn’t hurt to think about him.

“y/n?” he calls your name out, astonished. He’s looking at you like he’s just seen a ghost but in the best way possible. 

You blink at him, heart skipping a beat just from the mere sight of him, and when you hear Utahime’s voice on the line you’re shaken out of your trance. “Oh, sorry, I’m still here. I…I think I just had my question answered. Thank you, have a good night.” You pull your phone down, gaze lingering on your screen for way too long because you can’t brave yourself to look over at the man to your left, and you end the call.

There’s the sound of remnant puddles of water splashing as he takes a few steps closer to you, and you can see his reflection in the water of the one in front of you. The expression on his face matches the one that was there when you last saw him outside of the UTokyo stadium at the west side exit. It’s an expression you could still see every time you close your eyes.

Finally turning to face him, you purse your lips together. “Hi.”

“Hey, what are you doing here?” he asks, voice laced with confusion and you see him take in your appearance with eager flicks of his gaze all around, like he couldn’t believe you were standing in front of him right now.

“Satoru!” another familiar voice calls out. “Did you get the orange-flavored ones too? Choso’s a fucking idiot and got the grape ones instead. I hate those. They taste like medicine. And ass. Not that I would know what–” You see Geto emerge from the darkness to Gojo’s side, and now he’s looking at you with a surprised look too. “Oh, it’s y/n. What are you doing here?”

“Hey, you two,” you chirp, trying to act as if an entire world of awkwardness wasn’t being exchanged between you and Gojo right now, for the sake of hoping that Geto wasn’t a very good judge of energy. “I’m here to take pictures of the soccer team.”

Your eyes flicker to Gojo, who is still looking at you like he’s never seen a person before. 

“Oh, is it for another one of your assignments?” Geto asks. 

“No, it’s not. It’s for the newsletter,” you explain to him, “I guess it’s my job now.”

There are a few more distant footsteps that follow behind the two of them, with the crinkling noises of plastic bags hitting against thighs echoing through the streets, and eventually they catch up. You see Nanami and the UTokyo team’s goalie, you believe his name is Choso, arrive at this little gathering that was taking place outside of the hotel.

“That’s awesome!” Geto exclaims. “I’m sure the newsletter will lead to a lot of exposure.”

“Who reads the newsletter?” Choso asks. 

Geto nudges him with his elbow. “Dude.”

“What?”

He then fills Choso in on the conversation, “Oh, my bad.”

“Don’t worry, y/n, I read the newsletter,” Geto says, “I read it like the morning paper.”

“It only comes out once a week, but nice try,” you respond, giving him a weary look.

Nanami crosses his arms. “I actually do happen to read it,” he says, “although I refrain from the soccer section. Feels rather egotistic to read it. I find the campus politics section to be enjoyable, though.”

The rest of you exchange annoyed glances at that.

“Satoru reads the soccer section,” Geto says, slinging an arm around him, “‘cause he’s full of himself.”

For a moment, Gojo remains silent, while his teammates, who had been observing him with amused expressions, gradually shift to awkward blinking, like they were expecting him to complain, or say something sarcastic, or joke around by now.

“I do read it,” he says, eyes locked on yours. “I saw the release from yesterday. Your pictures were stunning.”

You’re flustered from the way he’s looking at you. “Thanks.” 

Choso opens the plastic bag he was holding, peering down into it. “Shit. Ice cream’s melting, guys.”

“Yeah, we should probably head back to the rooms,” Geto looks at you, “do you want any snacks?”

“Oh, no. I’m good. I was just about to go check-in,” you say to them.

The boys politely say bye to you, and Gojo mentions something about staying back for a bit and hands Nanami the plastic bag he was carrying before they head back into the hotel. And then the two of you are alone under this roof, drops of water falling from it in between the two of you. He takes a step towards you, and you instantly stiffen. He seems to notice because he sighs and then walks past you to the vending machine that was next to you, pulling out some spare change from his pocket and inputting it into the machine.

“Do you want anything to drink?” The machine feeds him something, and he crouches down to pick it up before standing up again.

“No, I’m good, thanks,” you say, hand clutching the handle of your suitcase. 

He cracks the can of his soda open. “So, you’re going to be traveling with us for the newsletter now?” he asks, so concisely, like he felt that every word comes with a tax.

“Yeah.”

“We don’t have to act like we’re strangers.”

You turn to face him. “What should we act like then?”

There’s a hesitant look in his expression as he looks down at his feet and then back up at you. “Can’t we at least be friends?”

The question softens you at your core, the tone of his voice sounding genuine. Being friends with him sounds so nice, and you kind of wish that’s what you two always were. Just friends. Maybe it would have avoided all of this heartache. But deep inside you knew that just being friends with him wasn’t an option anymore, at least not for now. “No, sorry. That’s just a recipe for disaster. I have to go check-in now.”

You grab your tote bag from the bench, grip tight onto your suitcase handle and make your way splashing across the shallow puddles then through the hotel’s automatic doors into the warmth of the lobby. 

The lighting inside was warm and there were moderately high ceilings adorned with vintage-looking chandeliers. Around the perimeter, there were amenities including a cozy lounge with a fireplace, a small bar serving cocktails, as well as a business lounge with booths and multiple TVs mounted to the walls playing the local news. It made you feel like you were on vacation, and getting to a hotel at this hour while on vacation always meant that you were about ready to pass out on some freshly washed and tucked white linen sheets after taking a nice warm shower with a lavender-scented mini soap bar.

Making your way through the maze of plush seating areas, you get to the concierge desk to check-in. There was a professionally-dressed woman with a slicked-back bun standing there behind the counter, her eyes scanning the computer screen in front of her, and a big, burly man that stood behind her wearing all black that appeared to be security.

“Hello, I’m here to check-in,” you say, placing your forearm on the cold black counter.

The lady doesn’t look up from the computer screen. You clear your throat.

“Oh, hello. Name on the reservation?” she asks you.

You take a look down at your phone screen. The reservation was still under the name of the person that had recently quit the job. “Yui Ishikawa.”

The lady behind the counter hums to herself, obnoxiously tapping at the keyboard with only one of her index fingers. She was chewing gum. “Hm. Don’t see that name here.”

“What?” You squint at your phone and refresh the page, then turn it to face her. “But it’s on your official booking site. There was email confirmation too.”

She glances at your phone screen then taps at the keyboard again, still obnoxiously loud, but she uses her other index finger this time. “Yeah, still nothing.”

“This has to be some kind of mistake,” you say to her.

She looks up at you with an annoyed expression. “Do you want to take a look at the screen? See for yourself.” She turns the monitor to face you. 

You don’t even work here, but you could see clear as day on their interface software that there was a reservation for this Yui Ishikawa woman at this time tonight. You point at it. “It’s right there. The reservation is literally right there.”

She turns the screen back to herself and squints at it. “Oh. Well, unfortunately, we already gave that room to someone else. Since it wasn’t there on our system a half hour ago.”

“What? How is that fair?” You were starting to get seriously annoyed. That refreshing shower you were dreaming of was starting to sound more of a need than a want with every passing minute. “Can you give me another room?”

“No, sorry, we’re all booked for tonight,” she tells you, without offering any additional help.

You look at her baffled. The big burly man behind her has now taken an interest in the conversation as well. “Okay…can you tell me if there are any hotels nearby that I could stay at?”

“Look. This is the countryside, ma’am, there are only a handful of hotels in this area that aren’t tourist accommodations. It’s also the night before a men’s college soccer match, and there seems to be some business seminar taking place nearby too. You can call and check, but the closest hotel this large is about an hour away,” she tells you. 

“What? An hour away? I can’t afford a cab ride like that,” you tell her.

“Unfortunately, that isn’t really my problem,” she says.

You blink at her. “Are you being serious? This is ridiculous.”

“Ma’am, we’re going to have to ask you to leave if you can’t comply with our booking rules,” she declares.

“Leave?! You’re the ones that messed up the booking!” You’re yelling now, a few heads turning from the bar at the back. Exhaustion was pulsing through your veins and your filter was slipping. “Do you have any idea how to do your damn job?”

The woman guffaws at you. “Alright, that’s it.” She snaps her fingers, and you watch as the big, burly man walks around the counter of the concierge desk to make his way to you.

You take a step back, watching in horror as he towers over you and grabs onto your arm. “Let’s leave without any issues, miss,” he says in a deep voice.

“What?! But– hey, that’s my suitcase! Don’t– wait–”

“Woah, woah, woah,” you hear a familiar voice call out from the left. “What’s going on here?”

The three of you turn your heads in the direction of the voice, and you see Gojo, still clad in those ridiculously soft-looking pajamas, doing a light jog up to the counter.

The woman at the reception desk straightens herself up immediately, and she pets down on her dress and fixes her hair at the mere sight of him. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Nothing to see here, sir! Just a crazy woman that can’t comprehend hotel establishment rules.”

“That crazy woman just so happens to be my wife,” he says, pulling the big burly man’s hand off of your arm.

All three of you look at him dumbfounded. 

“Y-Your wife?” the woman asks, sounding equally surprised and disappointed. “But she’s complaining about the fact that she doesn’t have a room.”

“I know, she does that all the time,” he sighs, “she’s got–...early-onset…dementia. Sweetheart, what did I tell you about packing up all your things and leaving the room when I’m not watching you?”

You give him a what the fuck look. He scowls at you to just play along.

“So…she’s with you?” the woman asks.

Gojo nods. “She always forgets that we’ve already booked a room together. Just a silly little sickly lady. Isn’t that right, honey?” He’s holding your shoulders and making you face the concierge woman.

“Y-Yes…” you say awkwardly, trying to put on a smile.

“So, if you could forgive her behavior,” he says with a super pleading voice, pulling you into him so your back is flush against his front side. “I’ll keep her in check from now on.”

The woman lets out a scoff in disbelief. “Alright…just don’t let her out again.” You send her a nasty look. The big burly man lets out a hmph and steps away from you. 

“Sure thing. Let’s go, honey,” Gojo says, grabbing the handle of your suitcase in one hand and your upper arm in his other, dragging you with him across the lobby to the elevators. It isn’t until he’s pressed the up button and you finally gain your footing again after stumbling a few steps that you yank away from his grip.

“What are you doing?” you hiss at him, feeling embarrassed.

He looks down at you with a raise of his eyebrow. “Saving you from getting kicked out of the only decent hotel within a thirty-mile radius?”

“I didn’t need your help, I had the situation under control,” you mumble, smoothing out the layers of your clothing.

“Yes. That’s exactly what that looked like,” he muses as the elevator door opens and he steps inside, taking your suitcase with him as hostage. You panic at the sight and step inside with him, the door closing behind you. 

“Where are we going?” you ask.

“To my room,” he says, pressing a button on the control pad, “you couldn’t get one, right?”

Your eyes widen. “No…I couldn’t.” 

Gojo’s room is on the fourth floor, eleven units down to the right, and you follow him with dragging feet all the way down. Once he makes it in front of the door and takes the keycard out of his pocket, he pauses and looks over at you. “Waiting for you to thank me.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “For what?”

He’s waving the card in the air tauntingly. “You look exhausted as hell right now. I’m the one with the access to a nice hotel vanity and a soft, warm bed,” he practically purrs the words.

You’re instantly folding. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, honey,” he chimes, pressing the card to the reader.

“Stop calling me that,” you grumble as he opens the door for you.

You step into the room, rolling your suitcase inside with you, and take a look around. There was a single bed with the headboard up against the left-side wall, a nightstand on both sides and a desk where you noticed Gojo had his laptop open and a few books out. The bathroom was to the right, and there was a long table that had a coffee machine as well as the TV on top of it.

You place your suitcase against the wall then turn around, standing only a few feet from the entrance of the room, to find Gojo still standing outside in the hallway.

“Do you have to go somewhere?” you ask him. “Why are you just standing there?”

“Oh, I don’t need any of my other stuff,” he says to you, tapping at his pocket where you can see the imprint of his wallet, “room’s all yours.”

Your eyes widen at him. “Wait…are you going to sleep somewhere else?”

He tilts his head at you, as if that was obvious. “Yeah, I was going to go crash on the couch in Suguru’s room or something.”

“But–” you start, stopping yourself. 

He’s waiting for you to speak, but you can’t.

“Well…good night, then,” he says and he turns to the side, about to walk down the hall, when you reach out and grab the sleeve of his shirt, stopping him in his tracks.

This was a bad idea. You’re supposed to be putting distance between the two of you right now, so that you can get over him. This was a man that very clearly said he didn’t have feelings for you. But honestly, you missed him. You missed him so damn much this past week, and you can only be strong for so long. 

“You have an important match tomorrow,” you say quietly, “you should be getting a good night’s rest. We’ll share the bed.”

He turns to face you, looking down at where you were pinching the fabric of his shirt, which was just as soft as you had imagined, and he glances up to meet your gaze once again. “I’m…really confused right now.”

“What if you guys lose and are booted from the competition, and I have to spend the rest of my life regretting the fact that the reason the school lost a 12-year championship streak is all because I made you sleep on a couch?” you ask him.

He takes a step towards you. “You really want me to stay?” His voice was low.

“Yes,” you say. “We’re mature adults. Despite everything, we can just…share a bed for one night, right?”

He’s silent for a moment. “I think you trust me a little too much.”

Your face felt hot. “Are you telling me that I shouldn’t?”

“I’m telling you that you should really think this through,” he says.

“Just stay. Please.” The tone to your voice came off much more desperate than you would’ve liked.

He looks at you like the last thing in the world he could say right now was no. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Positive?”

“Satoru.”

“Okay,” he says, walking past you into the room, like he wasn’t really in the mood to argue about it anymore.

You sigh, sulking your shoulders a little bit, and watch as he takes a seat at the desk and continues to click through things on his laptop, occasionally sipping on the cup of coffee he had made for himself, as if your presence here was no unnatural thing. 

This all felt so domestic for you. This feels like the most intimate the two of you have been with one another, despite the fact he’s literally made you cum with his tongue before. 

“Who drinks coffee at this hour?” you ask, crouching down to unzip your suitcase, opening it up to find your cosmetics bag and a fresh pair of clothes to change into.

“Caffeine doesn’t really affect me anymore.” His eyes were still stuck on his laptop screen.

“You sound dead inside,” you comment, standing back up straight. You step over your suitcase that was on the floor and head into the bathroom, about to close the door but you open it enough to peer over at him from inside. “I’m going to take a shower,” you announce.

You see him poke his tongue to his cheek, leg bouncing up and down underneath the desk, and he squints at his laptop screen like there’s something so damn important that he must concentrate on or else the entire universe would collapse inside of a black hole. “Cool. Have fun.”

“I will.” 

“I’m glad.”

“No peeping.”

“There’s a lock on the bathroom door. Feel free to use it.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.” And then you’re shutting the door. 

It felt nice to freshen up, especially after that long journey, and then you’re doing your skincare in the mirror while you’re wrapped in a towel, trying to forget the fact that the man you quite seriously have immense feelings for is somewhere outside that door just a few feet away in this small hotel room. You spray a spritz of your perfume onto your skin, something there’s literally no point in doing before bedtime, but you still do it…for no particular reason at all, obviously. 

When you step back out into the room, Gojo’s eyes are instantly on you from where he stood near the closet. He takes in your appearance and lets out a laugh, looking at you with amusement.

“What?” you ask.

“You look so cute,” he says, “with your little sloth pajamas.”

You’re fully blushing as you make your way over to the armchair in the room to set your cosmetics bag down on it to sort through the mess you’ve just made of it. “Don’t call me cute,” you scold, searching for your lip balm. 

You could feel his frown from behind you. “You don’t like it?” 

“No. I love it.”

“I’m not following.”

You turn around to face him. ���Satoru. You promised me you wouldn’t lead me on anymore. That includes teasing me or complimenting me.”

He looks at you incredulously. “What? I can’t even call you cute? This fucking sucks.”

“Your problem,” you say.

“So you’re cool with sharing a bed, but you’re not cool with me complimenting you,” he lays it out.

“We’re sharing this bed out of the kindness of my own heart,” you say to him, “because I care oh-so-very-much about your soccer career, and understand how important good sleep is for an athlete’s performance. I’m just that considerate of a person.” You point a strict finger at him. “But for your information, if you touch me while we’re in bed, I’ll kill you.”

“Hm. Not sure if I feel threatened or turned on right now,” he says.

You roll your eyes and finally zip up your cosmetics bag, set it on the table then make your way to the left side of the bed. When you glance at the nightstand, you notice Gojo has his wallet, his phone and his charger all situated there.

“Why’s your stuff here?” you ask him.

“Huh? Oh, I was going to sleep on that side,” he says to you.

“I usually sleep on the left side,” you tell him.

“But I usually sleep on the left side.”

You blink at him.

“I–…I’ll sleep on the right side,” he suggests, shoulders tense and on edge.

“Okay,” you shrug, and move his stuff.

Gojo spends some time freshening up in the bathroom too, and when he comes out he looks like he’s actually tired, and you feel like it’s the first time you’ve seen him look as worn out as he probably should be for someone as busy as him. You’re already settled under the sheets, the duvet pulled all the way up to your chin as you lay on your back. He comes up to the right side of the bed, checking his phone for a few minutes while standing and rubbing at the back of his neck, then plugs his phone into the charger. He grabs the sheets, about to pull them back, when he pauses and looks at you.

“Are you su-”

“If you ask me if I’m sure about this one more time, I will no longer feel sorry for you, and will make you go sleep on the love-stained couch,” you threaten him.

He grimaces at your choice of words and pulls the sheets back, slipping himself into bed. “Why do you have to put it like that? You’re gross. Also, I’m pretty sure this bed has seen less-than-holy things too.”

The only lighting in the room came from the warm, dim bulb of the night lamp at Gojo’s nightstand. An incredibly awkward silence settles between the two of you. Or maybe it’s just awkward for you, because he seems fine. He’s on his back too, looking up at the ceiling, practically motionless but there’s the faintest sound of his breathing every once in a while and it’s a sound you’ve never heard in such detail before.

He turns his head to you, but you don’t meet his gaze just yet. You shuffle a little bit, hip bumping against his side, elbow hitting his arm. He’s masculine next to you, shoulders hard, muscles heavy, but when you finally turn your head to glance at him and see the expression on his face, you realize that everything about him was rigid—except for the way he was looking at you.

“When did you sneak it in?” he asks.

“Sneak what in?” 

“The can of strawberry vanilla soda. Into my bag.”

You swear your heart stills a little in your chest. 

“Before,” is all you say to him.

He sighs. “y/n…”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to feel bad for me. I wanted you to have it, regardless of how I thought my confession would go,” you assure.

It’s hard to read his expression from the side while he’s looking up at the ceiling, but it’s softer than it was a second ago. The need to change the subject consumes you.

“Why do you have calluses on your fingertips?” you ask him. “You’re a soccer player, you don’t use your hands for anything.”

“I play the guitar,” he replies simply.

You perch yourself up on an elbow, looking down at him with interest. His eyes flicker to your face. “Really?”

“No. I was just kidding. Hate the way you got excited though. I might have to pick up a guitar now.”

“Can you just answer me?” you sigh, flopping down onto your back again.

He laughs a little, a sound you feel like you could get drunk on at this point. He lifts his head up off the pillow enough to tuck his right hand underneath it, then rests it back down. You wish there was a mirror on the ceiling so you could see the flex of his arm. “Coach has us do the rock climbing wall at the gym at least once a week for practice. He thinks it’s a good workout. Causes a hell of a lot of skin tear though.”

“That’s it? That’s the reason?”

“Mhm.”

You shake your head, “You should learn how to play the guitar, because that’s a lame reason to have calluses.”

He lifts his head up off the pillow again and brings the hand that was tucked under his nape to in front of his face and he just looks at it. You look at it too. “Why are you so obsessed with the state of my hands?"

“A girl can’t be curious?” you ask.

“They’re not that bad.” You wonder if you’ve made him self-conscious. 

You watch the way he flexes his fingers open and then closed. He turns it around, and you can see the veins trailing down from the valleys of his knuckles, disappearing into the fabric of his long sleeve. You remember that party, the two of you in that bathroom, when his hands were all over you, and it’s suddenly a little hard to breathe. He turns his hand again so the palm faces him, but now it’s also slightly turned towards you too.

“They’re bad here,” you say, pointing to his ring finger where you see slight peeling at the tip. The padded skin of your finger touches his skin. “A little bad here, too.” You point to his index finger, careless enough to allow all of your fingers to brush against his this time.

He watches you. “Your hands are really small,” he comments, like it was a marvel to him.

You look over at him briefly, and there’s not a single sign of tension in his face as he observes the image of your hand next to his hand in the air above him. He looked like he was at peace.

“Yours are just big,” you tell him. 

He knows he’s not supposed to, and you really shouldn’t have let him, but he interlocks his fingers with yours regardless, holding onto your hand. You feel the roughness of those calluses all across your soft skin. His thumb runs over the curve of your knuckle, almost in a soothing way, like he was trying to apologize to you for something. And this was the only way he knew how. 

Something sobers him up, because he suddenly pulls his fingers from yours and drops his hand to the duvet. Your hand lingers in the air for a few seconds before you do the same. And now you’re both awkwardly staring up at the ceiling again.

“Sorry,” he says, barely above a whisper.

“It’s okay,” you whisper too.

The silence settles for longer.

He sighs. “It’s not you, it’s me,” he says out of nowhere.

“Huh?” you turned your body a little to face him, and he was looking up at the ceiling as if there was something across the texture that he was trying to decipher.

“I don’t want you thinking that the reason I can’t-,” he pauses, to think carefully about his words, “...that the reason I can’t return your feelings is because of you, or anything you’ve done. It’s been a while since I’ve liked anyone to be honest, and I’m just really not looking to date right now.”

You’re hurt by his words. Because even if he didn’t want to date anyone, you thought that he would’ve at least tried to for you. You thought that he had at least some feelings that the two of you could’ve worked off of. “Why don’t you want to date anyone?”

“Reasons.”

“Obviously. What reasons?” you prod. When he doesn’t respond, you sigh. “If it’s something traumatic, I get it. My hamster died in the fourth grade,” you say, “I’ve never known peace since.”

He turns onto his side to face you with a soft and amused smile on his face. “Sorry to hear that. What was your hamster’s name?”

You try not to feel hot from the burn of his gaze and you turn onto your back to look up at the ceiling again. “Mr. Guilmon,” you say.

“Like…guilmon from digimon?

“Mhm.”

“You like digimon?”

“Oh yeah, I used to watch it all the time when I was a kid. My mom wanted to name my hamster ‘Scout’ but I refused,” you tell him, blinking a few times as the memories from your childhood come back to you. A small smile makes its way onto your face.

“I love digimon,” he says, fast, like he couldn’t contain it. 

“Really?” you give him a sidewards glance, a little surprised.

He hesitates slightly before sighing, turning over in the opposite direction to reach for his wallet on his nightstand. You feel the fabric of the duvet stretch across you from the movement, and you remember just how intimate this all felt. He’s laying on his back again, holding his wallet up in the air with both hands as he flips it open, then slides his credit card up out of the slot, and shows it to you. Digimon themed. You have to purse your lips together to hold back your laughter.

He turns his head to look at you when you can’t help but let a little noise escape your mouth, and you can see through the laughter-induced sheen of tears in your eyes that he’s frowning.

“Hey–”

“I’m sorry–” you're fully laughing at this point, hand over your mouth to try to contain yourself, “it’s just– oh my god— you’re the last person I would’ve expected to have been such a nerd.” 

“I’m not a nerd–” he tries to argue but you snatch the card out of his hand to study it closer, and also to memorize the numbers on the back.

“Popular soccer boy Gojo Satoru,” you’re giggling, “has a custom Digimon credit card.”

When he tries to reach for it, you stretch your arm off to the left. His weight leans on you, chest pressing against the curve of your shoulder, arm extending across you as he tries to grab his card back. “Quit it,” he mutters. 

“No,” you say, holding it further to your left, weakly trying to push him away from you.

“Quit it,” he repeats, face scowling now with what looks like embarrassment, and he holds his upper body up by the elbow, leaning over you even more to reclaim it, “or else.”

“Or else, what?” you say through wheezes, and it seems like something in him snaps because suddenly he grabs your wrist, hard, pinning it down onto the mattress, holding it there next to your head, and his entire upper body is towering over you. Shocked, you’re breathing fast, your eyes darting across his face, and he’s looking at you with a furrowed brow and a tense jaw.

“Or else I won’t keep my promise,” he says through a harsh breath, his voice low and rough.

You’re stunned underneath him. “What promise?” you ask, breathlessly. 

He leans down closer, to the point where the fringe of his hair brushes against your forehead. “My promise to hold myself back from you.”

You swallow hard, chest heaving. You feel the heat of his hand on your wrist burning through to your veins. You try to squirm slightly in his grip, but he just presses your wrist down further into the mattress.

He glances at your lips, eyes dilated and stern, and leans down even closer to you. “Do you have any idea how bad I’ve been wanting to punish you for leaving me in that bathroom by myself?” he says in a voice so husky you feel the arousal build at your center the second your head registers it.

You can’t find your words. He keeps his eyes locked on yours, as if to make sure yours stay on his too, and you’re docile under him until he’s distracted you enough to pinch his credit card between two of his fingers and discretely pull it out from your grip. He then lets go of your wrist and disappears out of your line of sight when he flops back down onto the mattress next to you, tucking his card back into his wallet.

“But I won’t. Because I’m a nice person, and will respect your space. Or whatever.” 

You don’t know what to say, your hand finding a place over your heart as you try to take deep breaths to calm yourself down.

“We should probably go to sleep,” he sighs after a minute, tossing his wallet back onto the nightstand and reaching over to turn off the light.

It’s dark now in the room, the only light coming from through the layered fabrics of the curtains. It's a cold light, possibly from the moon and maybe some dim neighboring white street lights, but it’s enough to where you could still see the slight texture of the ceiling, and maybe his face.

You both spend a few minutes trying to get comfortable. You try not to bump your butt against him, or brush your chest against his arm, but it happens a couple times anyway, and you mentally curse yourself for it. The rise of the duvet fabric from his chest becomes shallow with his breathing, and you think he’s fallen asleep, but then the two of you turn over at the exact same time, facing each other, eyes flying open and gazes meeting. It startles the both of you, but neither of you look away or say a word. The two of you just sit in the moment for what feels like hours, and very could’ve easily been. 

You’re the first to break the silence. “You know, there was a time where I thought that you weren’t even real.” You’re speaking hushed, like you’re afraid someone will hear, even though there’s only two souls in this room right now.

“What?” he asks, a slight raise to his eyebrow. “...why.”

“I don’t know. You’re like this urban legend around campus. You probably don’t know it, since you’re in it, but the world you’re in is very different from the world the rest of us students are in.”

He’s silent for a moment, his face being briefly illuminated by the reflection of a car’s headlights on the windows of the surrounding building. “I think I know what you mean.”

You blink at him. “I thought you would have a few more follow-up questions to that, but I guess you’re surprisingly self-aware.”

He hums to himself. “I think I can just put it into perspective.”

“Perspective?” you ask. You’re hanging onto every single one of his words tonight. You don’t want a single one of them slipping through you, not understood.

“Yeah,” he says, “there are moments where I feel like I’m not in that world anymore. And it feels nice. To get out of it.”

You want to ask him when those moments are, but he’s quick to speak again.

“I guess that means I’m aware of the moments where I am in it, so I know that it exists, if that makes sense? I don’t know.” He looks down at your pajamas, at the dancing sloth at the front, and the crease to his brow relaxes slightly. 

“Mhm, makes sense.”

His eyes are back on you, studying. There’s a strange look on his face that you can’t really comprehend. “I want to know about your world,” he says.

You breathe in deep, and exhale shallow. “My world is simple. I want to be a filmmaker and then live in a little cottage.”

He smiles at you. “A little cottage?”

“Yeah,” you say, “maybe in the countryside. The Italian countryside. With my own garden in the backyard so I can use fresh zucchini in my salads.”

“Any animals? Pets?” he asks, like he’s envisioning it all in his head too. 

“Maybe some chickens,” you say, “I promised Mr. Guilmon I’d name another one of my pets after him someday. I have to keep my promise.”

He nods. “You do.”

There’s another silence, but it doesn’t feel awkward this time.

“Did you turn your photos in to your professor?” he asks.

“Yeah, I did,” you tell him. “Earlier this week.”

“Nice. What about your reference for grad school?”

“I asked him for it.”

“Oh?” His eyebrows raise. “How’d it go?”

“Mm…I was really nervous, but it went well. He said he’d do it.”

There’s such a tenderness to his expression that you feel so compelled to kiss him right now. “That’s awesome. I’m proud of you. That’s one step closer to your dream.”

You purse your lips together from his words, sitting with the warm feeling in your chest. You want to thank him again, but instead all you say is “we’re even now.”

He lets out a small chuckle. It comes from his throat. “You’ve said that so many times.”

“I know.” Because you can’t believe it’s all over. This little arrangement between the two of you. You don’t want it to be over. “I can’t remember when the first time I said it was.”

“That night,” he answers you fast and with certainty, like it was at the forefront of his mind, “when you drove over rocks. And we sat together on the curb. And I realized how badly you take care of your car. You don’t need thousands of chain restaurant napkins in your glovebox, by the way. No matter how much you might think you do.”

“Wow. I was almost romanced by you for a second, but you ruined it,” you mumble.

You’re instantly taken back to that night. You remember the gentle quality in his eyes as he stared up at the stars, and you can still see the reflection of that sky in his eyes right now with the way he’s looking at you. 

“I really liked you that night,” you whisper, “I wish you were like that all the time.”

“Am I not like that all the time?” he asks, voice soft to match yours.

“No,” you say, “sometimes you’re mean.”

His eyes on you are gentle, somewhat careful. “I’m sorry for being mean.” 

You wonder if you can change his mind. If you can will him to like you back, if you can will him into wanting a relationship with you. You want to be his exception, not his rule.

“It’s okay. I’m mean sometimes, too,” you say, “mean to myself for sharing a bed with a guy that doesn’t like me.” He’s looking at your lips as you speak. “I’m bad like that.”

“You’re not bad,” is all he says.

“I am,” you say, and you inch closer to him, until there’s hardly any space between the two of you. You look up at him, faces inches away. You feel so safe with him, and yet you also feel scared, because you like him so much that you would let him ruin you if he wanted to. You press a flat palm to his shirt, searching for his heart, and you find that it’s beating fast in his chest. “I’m a bad woman, Satoru.”

“y/n,” he says, like a warning.

“I mean it,” you whisper.

“You said you’d kill me if I touch you,” he reminds you, sounding a little breathless.

“I can’t kill you, you’re way stronger than me,” you whisper, “so touch me.” Your hand is gripping onto the fabric of his shirt now, tight, with desire. He’s looking at you with a whole lot of desire too, but there was something else there as well. “Please.”

He wraps his hand around your wrist–the heat of his touch that you so badly wanted, craved, finally on you–but it’s to pull you away from him. Your grasp on his shirt releases and he brings your hand to the front of your chest, laying it down gently before letting it go. Your wrist lays limp there, missing his touch. Limp in front of your beating heart.

“Let’s just go to sleep, okay?” he says softly. 

Your eyes widen when you look at him, and you couldn’t even hide the hurt that settled across your face if you tried. Gaze dropping to his chest, you see the way it was rising with every breath he took, and for the second time in this life, you’ve felt so utterly rejected by him. You give him a compliant nod, and scootch back away from him before turning away. He stays as he is, watching your back, and you can feel his gaze on the nape of your neck. 

Counting the minutes to fall asleep felt exhausting, but the last thing you remember before you closed your eyes was the feeling of a tear trickling down onto your pillow, wet and cold against your cheek.

–

You wake up the next morning to an empty bed, and an even emptier feeling heart. There’s also this weird feeling of disappointment within you, and you don’t really know why.

Grabbing your phone on the nightstand, you quickly search for the email with the men’s soccer team practice schedule, and you see that they had a sharp 8am practice this morning before the game in the afternoon. The time reads 6:37am, and you’re wondering where Gojo went so early in the morning before heading off to the practice field.

You went back to sleep for a couple hours, and then woke up again. By the time you took a shower, got dressed, and went downstairs to the hotel lobby to eat breakfast, it was already 10:00am and it was time to make it to the field so you could set up and calibrate your camera prior to taking photos for the match. Following Utahime’s gameday instructions, you took a cab to the location with all of your gear.

The Kyoto soccer stadium was less of a stadium and more of an extremely large and open expanse of grass that had enormous silver metal stands stretching across the perimeter. It was something you would expect of an area in the countryside, but security was still somehow tight across the fenced off area. 

It was still a couple hours before the game, so the field was bustling with pre-game set-ups and the stands were empty. There were a few sports canopies being put up, as well as a small truck with workers that were working to stock up the hydration stations. A few men in suits were seated at tables with notepads and clipboards, looking busy in conversation and on what sounded like business calls. As you walk down the sidelines, you notice a few other people checking the distances between the goals and the chalk markings across the field. The stands were extremely close to all of the action, and when you look to the right, you see a couple of familiar faces there.

“Ah, y/n! We’re over here.”

You approach the group of three people, all seated on the lowest metal bench of one of the spectator sections. There were a bunch of tripods, cameras, cases, and laptops sprawled across in front of them. You recognize Hana and Minato, but you don’t recognize the other man sitting with them. You had met Hana and Minato at the game against Osaka last week, they were both professional photographers for the newsletter.

Hana hops off the bench and comes up to you. “It’s seriously so cool you’re here with us and that Utahime got you this gig,” she says to you with a smile. “Make sure your schedule is free on nights after matches, all us photographers usually get dinner together afterwards. You’re the baby out of us, so we’ll pay for you.”

You return her smile with one of your own. “That’s sweet, and sure I’ll try to.” 

You glance at the man whose name you didn’t know, your gaze meeting his, and soon enough he’s jumping up onto his feet too and making his way over to you.

“Ah, this is Kaito. Kai for short,” Hana says, gesturing to the man, and then to you.

Kai extends his hand out for you to shake. He’s tall and a bit lean. His style is really boyish—totally nailing the street photographer outfit with the white shirt underneath a flannel one, and some Carhartt pants paired with some Vans. You reach out to shake his hand, and he holds onto it for a second longer than you would’ve expected.

“Hi,” you greet him and tell him your name.

“That’s a nice name,” he says with a smile.

Hana claps her hands together. “Okay! We all know each other now, that’s great. We should get started prepping before the players get here, I believe they’re scheduled to be here in an hour.” She walks over to the benches and picks up her digital camera. Minato grabs his as well as his tripod, then walks over to Hana’s side. “The way we usually do it is to split the field into corners, and each of us works that perimeter. The videographers are here too, so just make sure you don’t accidentally knock over or stand in front of one of their cameras.”

All three of you nod at her and you unzip your case to take your film camera out. Kai is next to you, looking at the device in your hands curiously.

“Kai, you can work with y/n for today since it’s her first day. Split up those two corners over there,” Hana says, pointing to the other end of the field. You and Kai look in that direction. “Minato and I will take the other short end.”

With a few more discussions and detailed instructions, the four of you disperse to your assigned locations. You’re a step ahead of Kai, although he should really be the one leading your stride since you’re the new one here, but he soon enough catches up to you.

“Is that a Canon AE-1?” he asks you, pointing to your camera.

You look at him a little surprised. “Yeah, it is. As vintage as they get.”

“Sweet, I used to shoot on film too. Second-hand?” 

“No, third. Still cost me an arm and a leg, though,” you sigh.

He laughs. “They’re not that expensive.”

“I’m a broke college student. I sometimes have to choose between paying rent and eating food,” you say to him.

He kicks at a random can on the grass, sending it flying forward, instead of picking it up. “Yeah, definitely don’t miss those days.”

“When did you graduate?” you ask.

“From UTokyo two years ago,” he says. 

You bend over to pick up the can he kicked and jog a little to the trashcan nearby, tossing it in, then jog back to him. “That’s nice. You’ve been doing this for two years?”

“Yup,” he says to you as the two of you reach the corner of the field outlined by freshly drawn chalk. He kneels down on the grass, sets his camera case down, and opens it up. Your jaw drops.

“Is that a—Leica camera?” you ask him, shocked.

He smirks up at you. “Sure is.”

“Oh, so you’re just rich, then,” you sit down on the grass to look at it with interest, marveling at its condition.

“Nope. I’ll bet I got it for cheaper than your Canon there,” he points to the camera hung at your neck.

You meet his gaze. “No way.”

“Way,” he says, pulling out the attachable lens before wiping at it with a microfiber cloth, “I know a guy. He sells used cameras. The only issue is you’ve gotta refurbish them yourself.” 

You sigh. “Wonderful. Because I would know how to do that.”

He lets out a half-laugh, and you glance up briefly to look at his expression. He was amused. “It’s pretty easy, just gotta do it once. And then you’ll have a used Leica that works brand-new, all for just under a hundred-thousand yen.”

You’re looking at him with surprise again. “That cheap?”

“Yup.”

“Wow…” Your finger plays with the lens cap on your camera.

“If you want, I can send you his info. But if you want to meet up with him, it’ll probably have to be facilitated through me,” Kai says, “He takes clients by recommendation. No use in selling a used camera to an idiot that doesn’t know how to refurbish it. He’s looking for niche photographers that have the interest.”

You press your lips together, considering it. “Sure.”

He hands his phone to you. “Alright, gimme your number.”

You hesitate for a second before typing your number into his contacts then hand it back and watch as he saves it in his phone. “Canon girl. Won’t forget ya.”

The two of you make work for a second, eyeing the field and mapping out angles of where to get the best shots during play. Kai gives you some pointers and you’re marveling at how good they are.

“Not really used to shooting on film anymore,” he mumbles, peering through the hole on your camera when you handed it over to him, “but usually a one over five-hundred shutter speed works well for sports. I’d switch between that and over two-fifty though, to avoid a blurry finish.”

“Thanks,” you say to him, wanting to write all this down to not forget it. “Wish I knew this last week.”

“Why shoot on film?” he asks out of nowhere, handing your camera back to you. “Why not digital?”

“Oh, it’s a personal interest,” you say to him, adjusting your shutter speed as he suggested, “I think there’s a charm to it. I want to be a movie maker, and shoot on film medium.”

He frowns at you. “How are you going to do that?”

You tilt your head at him, shuffling on the grass. “I’m going to apply to the film graduate program at UTokyo to start.”

He laughs at that from where he’s seated across from you. “Really? That’s a waste of your time.”

Your heart sinks a little in your chest from his tone. “Why would it be a waste of my time?”

He turns to face you more directly. “y/n, trust me, I know this career path. Been there, done that. Millions of film majors like yourself always have these big-ass dreams like ‘I want to become a director, I want to do screenplay’ etc., but only one or two of them actually succeed.” 

Your shoulders sulk. It’s not the first time you’ve heard those words from someone—your own parents practically recited them word-for-word before you headed off to college—but you had been doing really well all of senior year to ignore that nagging little voice in your head. It was honestly quite triggering to hear it all again right now. “Well, I think I can do it.”

He lets out a short scoff. “You sound real convincing there.” When he catches sight of your upset expression, he straightens his back a little. “My bad. Just trying to look out for you. I’m your senior in this industry. I know my way around these things. Trust me.”

You nod slowly. “I know. Thanks.” Part of you wonders if he’s just projecting.

“Well anyway,” he shrugs, “I think you should just focus on photography for now. It’s the safest career option for you to do.”

“I guess you’re right,” you say, wanting to diffuse the conversation.

The two of you disperse to your assigned corners once the stands start to fill with spectators. Shortly after, the players make their introductions onto the field, and you can see Gojo across the field. He’s too far to read his expression, but for some reason when you look at him, that disappointed feeling from this morning comes back to you. You try to push it down and just focus on your task at hand.

UTokyo does well during the match, and Gojo seems to be playing much better than the Osaka game last week, scoring two goals within the first half. There were a couple of times where there were throw-ins near your corner, and you made eye contact with him as he’s breathing heavily, wiping the sweat off his face with his jersey, and every time you look at him, that melancholic feeling washes over you again. UTokyo wins 3-2, the crowd evidently disappointed as they were rooting for their home team, and by the time the disgruntled fans started to clear the stands, the sun was setting over the horizon and the sky was a golden color.

The referees on the field begin to oversee the post-match proceedings with the players. Kai comes around to meet you at your corner, and Hana and Minato arrive there too.

“Hey team! How’d it go?” Hana asks, a little out of breath from her journey over here.

“Went fine,” Kai responds.

“It was a little tricky,” you comment, “but I think my photos came out well.”

Hana nods. “Alright, sounds good. Are we still on for dinner tonight?”

Kai and Minato nod, and then all three sets of eyes are on you. You hesitate for a moment, and look off past them to where you see the group of soccer players in conversations with the coaches and referees. You see Gojo standing there, his hands on his hips as he peered across the field, tilting his neck to the side repeatedly, and you realize he had been doing that all match long. That unsettling feeling within you starts to brew once again. “Uh, I’m really sorry, but I’m not feeling very well. I think I might just head back to the hotel.”

Hana and Minato nod at you with a concerned expression, while Kai just looks disappointed.

“Okay, well, I hope you feel better,” she says.

You end up taking an Uber back to the hotel in haste, not wanting to run into Gojo or any of the other soccer players after their match, and make it to the room, using the key card that Gojo gave you to get inside. You take a shower to freshen up, and by the time it’s 7pm, you’re starving. You put on a simple outfit and make it downstairs into the lobby of the hotel, about to go peruse the nearby dining options, but right when you step out of the elevator, you run into Gojo.

There’s a look of pleasant surprise on his face and you take in his appearance. He was still wearing his soccer jersey, covered in grass and dirt stains, and his face was slightly flushed from exertion. You figured he just came back from the field.

“Hey,” he says, “sorry, I was just about to head over there.” He jerks his head off towards the lobby, and you glance in that direction. There was a group of maybe thirty people gathered around the lounging areas and high-tables over at the business suite, and you recognize them as UTokyo’s soccer players, along with Coach Yaga and other team staff. The players were still all clad in their uniforms, carrying all their stuff, and there were plays of today’s game rerunning across the TV screens. You realize they’re probably prepping for interview questions for tomorrow’s conference.

“Oh, please, go ahead,” you say to him.

He tilts his head at you. “Are you doing alright?” 

You were aware that things might feel awkward after last night, and that your cheeks would probably feel hot like they do now the next time you had to talk to him. Your mind takes you back to the memories, when you think about how badly you wanted him to stay with you in the room because of that hollow feeling in your chest from missing him, despite how you knew it was bad for you. Because this man standing in front of you doesn’t like you in the way that you like him. 

And then it clicks. The reason for that feeling of disappointment you’ve had since the moment you woke up today.

When you glance up at Gojo this time, you see him differently than you had from a second ago. You finally notice the slight dark circles under his eyes, and figure out that the reason he’s been tilting his neck to the side all day was because he was trying to stretch out a kink. You vaguely recall that moment you woke up in the middle of the night, and your sleepy brain registered that there was no longer the dip of him in the mattress next to you.

“When did you leave the room?” you ask him. You know your voice is quiet when he has to lean down a bit to hear you.

He takes his time answering, indulging in a few breaths. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” you say, starting to sound hostile, “you left during the night, didn’t you?”

He doesn’t deny it.

“You left once I fell asleep,” you say, eyes widening with realization.

He sighs. “Yes.”

“Where did you go to sleep?” you ask, trying to keep your tone level.

“Suguru’s room had an extra couch. I pushed them together.”

You felt sick and sad, feeling something worse than rejection right now. There was a part of you that still thought that all of this from him was just a joke. A prank. That he was finally going to say just kidding, I like you too. The reason you’ve been so disappointed since the minute you woke up today was because there was a part of you that thought you were going to wake up this morning with his arms wrapped around you, back pressed tight to his chest while he whispers sweet nothings in your ear of how much he likes you, of how much he wants you, of how much he wants to be with you.

“Why? Even after I said I didn’t want you to have bad sleep?” Your voice was laced with hurt. You didn’t even know how to explain to him why it upset you, because deep down you’re scared it isn’t even valid.

“It’s fine,” he says, “I played fine today. And we won.”

“You could’ve stayed. Do you really hate me that much?” Your words are shooting to kill now. “So I’m good enough to finger in a bathroom at a frat party, but not good enough to sleep next to?”

He furrows his brow. “I don’t understand why we’re arguing about this,” he says, tone starting to match yours, “you’re the one that wanted space. I was just trying to respect that.”

“If you really wanted to respect my space, you wouldn’t have agreed to share the bed with me in the first place.”

“y/n,” he says, “that’s not fair.”

“You should’ve known better.” You’re breathing fast, tone searingly accusive. “You know that I’m trying to get over you, and that I’m vulnerable, and that I’m probably confused about a lot of things right now.”

“I ask if we could at least be friends, you say no because it’d be some recipe for disaster, then you practically beg me to stay with you and tell me to touch you while we’re laying down together. You don’t think that’s confusing for me too?” he counters.

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment at the memory of your desperate actions last night, and he instantly looks apologetic. You feel like you’re being unfair, but you feel like he’s being unfair too.

“I’m the one with feelings,” is all you say in your defense.

He swipes at his chin roughly with the back of his hand, smudging the dirt up to his cheek, and then closes his eyes for a second, like the weight of today has finally hit him all at once. He looks exhausted. “Right,” he says, softly, “I’m sorry.”

“Yo, Satoru!” one of his teammates yells from the center of the lobby. “Coach needs you, man.”

He rubs a hand down his tired face then throws a haphazard glance over his shoulder. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a sec,” he calls out and then looks back at you. You can’t make eye contact with him, and just stare at the print on his jersey instead. “I’ll sleep in Suguru’s again tonight. The room is yours.”

There’s a lump in your throat and you feel like you’re about to cry. “Okay.”

He reaches into his shorts pocket and gives you a room card. “Here’s the spare. I don’t need to come grab my stuff for the night, so don’t worry.”

“Okay.”

He sounds like he wants to say more, and you see him take a small step towards you, hand reaching out for you, but this time Coach Yaga’s stern voice is calling out to him too. He sighs. “Good night.”

“Mhm. Thanks.”

He hesitates before he turns on his heel and you watch his back, with that signature #10 stretched across the fabric of his uniforn, as he jogs through the hotel lobby to his teammates.

The walk back to the hotel room is depressing, and you find yourself dragging your feet all the way there. Once you make your way inside, you look around at the room and see some of Gojo’s belongings scattered around, but it didn’t seem like there were any of his essentials. You look down at the spare key card in your hand–a promise from him that he won’t try to upset you anymore tonight–and that lump in your throat from earlier comes back. 

You hated fighting with him. You hated being away from him. Those feelings that you thought would go away just as fast as they came still sat so stubbornly within your heart, and it was becoming impossible to bear. 

You wonder if meeting him was all just some horrible, twisted mistake. 

Before you have time to dwell on that sad sentiment, your phone screen lights up with a message.

|| 7:52pm unknown number: kinda sucks you’re not here with us. was looking forward to showing you more of my camera

|| 7:53pm unknown number: this is kai by the way

The features of your face feel heavy as you look down at your phone screen. You don’t even notice your eyes are teary until you realize the blur of your vision makes it hard to see the letters as you type out a response.

You just wanted a distraction from all this pain.

|| 7:54pm you: can you send me the address? i wanna be there

a/n. grrrr i love a one-bed trope so much grrrrrrrrr it's gonna do it for me every damn time lol. thanks a bunch for reading!! there's still so much that i've got planned for the series haha i think the second half is gonna be a lot crazier than the first. super excited to write it though.

➸ take me to chapter nine!

taglist: @who-can-touch-my-boob @therealestpussyeater @lost-resonance @hojoslutoru @foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @bsdicinindirdim @tsukikourito @getitsatoru @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @btszn @prince-wyiilder @semra4 @gojosimp26 @drthymby @ninitoru @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010 @bakuhoethotski @horisdope @sykostyles @aquaberrydolphin @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @ri-sa20 @purplehallow11 @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @bxddiebloss @chwesuh-imnida @mo0nforme @viware @still-fking-single @megumisthirdog @gintokhi @karvokr @cierocanteat @imjustaweirdnerd (hope i didn't miss anyone thank u all sm!!)

[imaginespazzi]

Part 11: Free Fall

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14

How many nights did you wish someone would stay? (Lie awake only hoping they're okay?)

(In which an angst writer makes her comeback in more ways than one)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Fluff if you squint?

Words: 8.0K

TW: Swearing (that's probably it?)

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 Y'all are the sweetest people ever for being so patient with me but it's finally here! I'm hoping that I don't put y'all through this again but it is almost finals season so...fingers crossed. While you read this chapter, I'd like y'all to keep in mind how much you love me and how much y'all wanted a new chapter and of course my favorite phrase: for the plot! I tried to edit but I hate reading my own work back and so it's not as thorough as it should be and there's probably typos so lemme know. As always, let me know what you liked, what you didn't and what you'd like to see next. Have a lovely week my angels!

May 2025 

It’s her first ever WNBA game -Dallas Wings vs Washington Mystics- and the first thing Paige notices as she steps onto the court is that the two courtside seats right by the Mystics bench are empty. The sound of music streaming through the speakers clashes against the raucous crowds; the lights are dimmed and there’s a riveting thrum of energy swirling the arena in anticipation for a generational talent’s professional debut. Paige has spent the days leading up to her first game immersed in basketball. Since training camps, she hasn’t let herself think of anything except how to make sure the ball went through the hoops, how to make sure the person in front of her didn’t score, how to win. 

It’s easier that way. Because then she doesn’t have to think about how empty and cold her bed feels at night, doesn’t have to think about how much she craves to press call on a number she knows she should have blocked, doesn’t have to think about how the pieces of her shattered world are barely bound together by a tape of pretend. Paige can’t think of any of that and so she’s spent every second awake, clearing her head of all potential distractions and focusing on preparing for this moment. 

Except, the moment is here now. 

And all Paige can fixate on is the empty courtside seats. 

The memories come back to her in waves; the two of them in those seats, pressed together -as close as it could be acceptable for their façade of best friends to be- as they weaved dreams of it being their turn on the professional stage. If she listens closely, Paige swears that amidst the chaos, she can still hear the echo of a promise that had once been made casually in conversation. 

“When you play here for the first time, I’ll be right here cheering you on. Every single time.”

Another broken promise. 

The truth is that the last few weeks as much as it’s felt like Paige is walking on a carpet of roses, there have been countless sharp thorns woven through the petals. She’s tried to avoid them -focusing on what she had, instead of what she’d lost- but they’d found a way to perforate through her skin anyways. And Paige knows she’s bleeding but she can’t scream, so she swallows the pain away instead. Memories of the past are piercing her feet and it feels like she’s leaving a trail of it feels incomplete without you behind her as she navigates the journey through her present, stepping towards a future that would be nothing like the one she’d imagined when she’d been a naive girl sitting in those courtside seats. 

The courtside seats that are empty tonight. 

Really it’s exactly what she should’ve expected. And there’s something so final about this moment, like the last flicker of a candle that had burned in secret. Paige hadn’t even realized she was still holding out for something but as she drags her eyes away from the seats and towards her father and brother who are practically vibrating with pride, she can feel the tautness of the string that she’d held onto. Because she hasn't told them; hasn’t told anybody about the breakup. 

Something about vocalizing it had felt just a little too real and Paige had evaded any potential situation that would warrant her having to reveal the tirth. But it hits her now, looking at those damn empty seats that should've been -in another life would’ve been- filled by her other family, that the words she’d been too scared to say out loud -for fear of them being enshrined into reality- had already probably been spoken into existence by someone else. And it hits Paige now, that maybe she’s desperately holding onto a rope that has already been let go of. 

“You good Bueckers?” she whirls around to find Arike looking at her, eyebrows raised in concern. 

“I’m fine,” Paige lies; she’s gotten so incredibly good at that, “just thinking a lot of thoughts.”

Arike nods in understanding, “fair enough. But you got this dude,” she reaches out a hand to squeeze her rookie’s shoulder, “whatever you’re thinking, when you get on that court, none of it’s gonna matter. All that matters for 40 minutes is the game and that we come out of it with a win. You gonna help us win Paige?”

“That’s the fucking plan,” Paige smirks, earning her a matching one from Arike before the shooting guard saunters onto the court, ready for tip-off.

All that matters is the game. 

Paige sucks in a deep breath, letting herself look over at the courtside seats one more time. This is her reality now. There’s no point in waiting for a regretful phone call or a surprise midnight knock on her door because it’s not going to happen. She feels a sense of hollowed acceptance as she finally turns away from the seats, plastering on a confident smile as she takes her place in the Dallas Wings starting five. And Paige is faced with the same truth that she’d learned at a far too young age; that people would leave her but the game never would. 

***

Dallas wins the game by 17 points. Paige’s statline is 21 points, 6 rebounds and 8 assists with 2 steals and a block. It’s a respectable statement from the rookie and her teammates are overjoyed. She’s surrounded by them as they celebrate winning their first game of the season and there’s a sense of hopeful excitement about how the rest of the season could go. Her eyes go over the top of them to find the cute Dallas local reporter that Paige had befriended shooting her a congratulatory wink and she blushes a little bit, looking away bashfully. In the distance, Paige can make out a small crowd of people decked in custom Wings #5 jersey, whistling in excitement. Despite the home fans, their celebration still echoes around the stadium and the loudest cheer comes from her brother who stands next to her father, both of them beaming with pride. And It’s almost enough to prevent her eyes from wandering back to the empty courtside seats. Almost. 

***

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. With the quick transition from the college season into the draft, Paige hadn’t had found time to go home inbetween. And so when the Wings had been making hotel arrangements for DC, she’d opted to stay with her dad and Drew in Maryland instead. But as she stands in the doorway to her bedroom, staring at a wall filled with pictures that are an ode to the past - collages that are practically a shrine to her broken relationship- Paige finds herself longing for the cold, unfeeling exterior of a foreign hotel room. 

Paige’s life can be split into two parts. There’s the Before Azzi and then there’s the With Azzi. And the truth is that there isn’t much from the Before Azzi left in Paige’s life. Every inch of her current life has been touched by the brunette, illuminated by her presence and now, it’s tainted by her absence. Especially in Maryland. Since she’d met the Virginia native, the DMV area had always been synonymous with the Fudds for Paige and she can’t remember a time when she’d been here -when she’d been in this bedroom- and not had plans to see them- to see Azzi. 

She takes a hesitant step inside, eyes gliding over each photograph and it’s like she’s being transported through time. The memories are as vivid as ever, bursting with color as they ellipse her mind. Paige can picture every moment like she’d lived it yesterday. She can still hear their laughter echoing through the air, can feel the softness of their hands -their bodies- brushing against each other, can still taste the lingering sweetness of their lips meeting halfway as they breathed silent promises against each other’s skin. 

A silent sob wracks through Paige’s body as she brushes her fingers over the most recent image of them from December -the last photograph she’d had time to print out. It’s one that Drew had taken of them in the kitchen- Paige propped up on the counter and Azzi in between her legs, one hand on the counter with the other resting right against Paige’s heart. Neither of them had even noticed the little boy, too wrapped up in each other; they were in their own world like they often had been. Azzi’s head is thrown back in laughter -probably at some ridiculous joke her girlfriend had cracked- and Paige has that goofy - just for Azzi- grin on her face as she gazes at the brunette with nothing but adoration. 

The picture is from barely six months ago but they look so young to Paige, so innocent, so naive, so fucking happy, so completely unaware that in a couple of months, one hesitantly spoken word would dissolve that happiness into a puddle of rubble. 

No. 

She thinks that one simple word is destined to echo through her ears, like that unpleasant screech of nails scratching against a chalkboard, for as long as she still has the ability to hear. Paige hadn’t even really heard it at first; it had been said so softly, so quietly, so brokenly and she’d barely seen Azzi’s lips move. For the briefest moment she’d tricked her mind into believing it was just the sound of the wind around them. But then there it was again. 

Louder. 

Stronger. 

No.

Paige’s hands instinctively clasp around her ears, fingers tangling tightly through her blond hair, because she can still fucking hear it. Here in this bedroom, where every corner still holds a little part of Azzi -holds a little part of them- the sting of rejection is louder than it’s been since it had first hit. Because it’s not just the pictures. It’s all the little pieces of them they’d left scattered over Christmas break, thinking they’d come back to it together.

 It’s a set of Azzi’s earrings -one Paige vaguely remembers picking out for her when they’d gone shopping a couple of weeks before- placed delicately on Paige’s dresser. It’s the pink sweater -that neither of them are sure who it originally belongs to but like most of their clothes, is basically a shared item at this point- haphazardly thrown over a chair. It’s that stupid book they’d started reading together -Paige lying across her girlfriend’s lap, toying with her curls as Azzi read the story out loud- still lying on the nightstand, waiting to be finished. 

Despite being alone in her room, Paige finds herself rapidly shaking her head. Because she can’t do this. Can’t spend a night in this room that had barely ever been just hers, had always felt more like theirs. She can’t sleep on that bed, no when her last memory of it is being tangled in the sheets with Azzi on a cold wintry morning, their legs intertwined with each other as they’d giggled to themselves in between languid lazy kisses. And maybe it’s pathetic of her but she can’t find it in herself to unmake the bed, not when her last memory of the two of them in this room is her leaning against the wall, shamelessly checking out her girlfriend as Azzi neatly made the bed, chiding Paige for the nth time on the importance of tidiness. 

“When are you gonna learn how to make your bed,” Azzi had sighed. 

Grinning, Paige had wrapped her arms around her girlfriend from behind, slotting her face into the crevice of Azzi’s neck and brushing her lips against the patch of skin, “I know how to make my bed. I just never have to because I’ll always have you to do it for me.”

Except for the last few weeks, Paige has had to make her own bed and she fucking hates it. 

Breathing sharply, Paige slowly backs out of her bedroom, gently pulling the door shut. She leans her forehead against the cool mahogany frame, trying to calm herself down. There’s been a nonstop dull ache in her chest since that night but tonight feels different, like the cold hands of the past have managed to dig under her ribcage and squeeze her heart  -something sharp digging into her arteries- so hard that it hurts just to exist. Paige gives herself a couple more seconds, creating half-moons as she digs her nails into her palms, before she finally pulls away from the door, heading towards her brother’s room down the hall. 

“You know you really should start knocking before you come into my room,” Drew says with a mock annoyance that’s betrayed by his large grin, as Paige slips into his room, “I’m almost a teenager.”

Despite the heaviness that’s still lingering between her lungs, Paige suddenly finds it a lot easier to breathe. Her little brother’s bedroom is dark, save for red LED lights and dim glow of the TV. Drew is reclined on his bed, gripping a white gaming controller between his hands. 

“You’re always gonna be a baby to me Drewski,” she teases, stepping towards him to ruffle his hair, laughing when he ducks her hand and shoots her an irritated glare in response. 

“Not the hair,” he whines and then groans as his eyes flicker back to the screen, towards the game he'd been playing, “damnit Paigey you just got me killed.”

“Hey hey hey, don’t blame me for your incompetence,” Paige chides. 

Drew rolls his eyes, before reaching over to hand over the other controller, “you wanna play?”

Paige shakes her head, gently pushing his hand away, “nah I just-” she chews at her bottom lip, shuffling her feet with uncharacteristic nervousness, “I was just uh- just wondering if I could stay in here tonight? We could have a sleepover? Like old times? Just you and me.”

It’s heartwarming the way her little bother’s eyes light up -like he’s still the little boy that used to fit perfectly in Paige’s arms, not almost a teenager who’ll eventually be taller than her- as he nods excitedly, scooching over to give his older sister space on his bed. Paige crawls gingerly onto the bed, hesitating for a second, before she lays her head on her brother’s lap, curling into herself. Drew is warm and inviting and familiar and for a second she almost forgets that serrated pain shooting through her nerves. But then it all comes rushing back and Paige has to swallow harshly to keep herself from giving into the fresh new set of tears that are re-emerging on her waterline. 

“Paigey,” Drew whispers softly as he runs his finger through her delicate blonde hair, clearly sensing something’s wrong, “are you okay?”

“I’m fine Drew,” she means to keep her voice strong but it comes out as broken as she feels. 

“Paigey,” the little boy’s voice is more worried now, “should I call Azzi?” 

This time the whimper escapes before Paige can stop it as she tightly closes her eyes. She knows her brother means well; knows that Drew doesn’t really remember Paige without Azzi- doesn’t remember a time before his sister knew how to heal without the brunette’s touch. He’d watched Paige celebrate all her victories with Azzi and he’d seen the same girl hold his sister in all her tragedies, putting her back together every time she broke with promises of you’ll have always have me. From the moment Drew was old enough to understand his sister’s feelings, he was also perceptive enough to understand that Azzi was always what she needed, no matter how she was feeling. And it’s still true, Paige thinks; she wants nothing more than to say yes, wants nothing more than for Drew to call Azzi, so Paige can tell her how much she fucking misses her- how much she fucking needs her. 

Perhaps it's pride or maybe it’s fear, but Paige doesn’t say what she wants. Instead she vigorously shakes her head in her brother’s lap, “n-no it’s fine. I’m fine. It’s late and Azzi’s busy-”

“Azzi’s never too busy for you,” Drew says indignantly, “I’m gonna call her.”

“Drew stop,” Paige’s voice is much firmer this time as she wraps a strong arm around her little brother’s knee, stopping him from moving, “we’re not calling Azzi.”

She could tell him now. After all, she’s going to have to when he inevitably asks why he hasn’t seen Azzi -why he hasn’t seen the girl who’s been a part of his life for more than half of it- in so long. But even though the words sit scratchily on the tip of her tongue, she still isn’t quite ready to spit them out; isn’t quite ready to confront reality. 

“Why not,” petulance coats Drew’s tone. 

“Because I’m fine and I don’t need- I don’t want to talk to her,” Paige lies. 

The little boy scoffs, “you always want to talk to her.”

He doesn’t know the way that simple sentence turns the cracked pieces of Paige’s heart into dust as she tightens her grips on his leg, “Drew please- please just let it go.”

“Why,” Drew argues stubbornly, “why can’t we call her.”

“We just-” Paige’s voice breaks, as she scrambles to wipe her tears before they can wet her little brother’s shirt, “we just can’t okay?”

And there must be something in her voice -the anguish that no amount of trying is able to hide- that Drew pieces together to understand that this isn’t a battle he can win, no matter how much he and Paige might both want him to. The young boy slowly droops his body back to its reclining position, his fingers returning back to Paige’s hair as he begins to stroke her head again. 

“It’s gonna be okay Paigey,” he whispers with all the hopeful innocence of a blissfully naive little boy, “everything gonna be okay.”

And god does Paige want to believe him. But the courtside seats were empty tonight. And she’s in the DMV with no plans to see the Fudds- to see Azzi. And she’ll never know the ending to that stupid book on her bedside table. 

She wants to believe Drew but Paige isn’t sure how anything’s ever going to be okay again. 

***

May 2033 

It should be a joyful moment -the three most important people in her life congregating together- but instead as Paige quietly observes the scene in her living room -Drew silently seething, Azzi fidgeting nervously with her thumbs and Stephie babbling away amidst it all- she feels suffocated by this heavy gray cloud of apprehension lingering above her head. If she’s honest with herself, she’s been on edge for a couple of days now, since training camp had begun to be precise. Since she’d moved to the Bay Area, everything else in Paige’s world had been eclipsed by Azzi and Stephie. The mother-daughter duo were all-consuming and if she’s honest with herself, Paige had been more than happy to let her thoughts -and her heart- be consumed by nothing but the two of them. 

It had been so easy to forget everything else and the tentative verbal three-way deal she technically had with the Valkyries and the Liberty had pretty much ceased to exist in her thoughts. That is until Angie Davis -the lynchpin in this agreement- had been selected, just as everyone had predicted, to the Valkyries. The Stanford PG had shown up to training camp with a shy smile and an eagerness to learn that all the rest of the vets on the team had warmly embraced. But all Paige saw in the girl was the ticking time bomb of a decision she’d forgotten she’d have to make. And it isn’t just the reminder of the decision that has Paige feeling at unease; it’s why she has to make this decision in the first place, the reason behind why she’d agreed to this deal in the first play, why she’d been so adamant for Talia to make sure she didn’t get stuck here. 

Eight years ago, Azzi Fudd had broken her heart and Paige has spent every moment since, trying to collect the shattered pieces and reassemble them. 

And the last thing Paige had wanted to do was give Azzi the hammer to smash her barely fixed heart again. 

That’s what it had felt like when Talia had first brought up the Valkyries offer. It wasn’t that she and Azzi hadn’t been in each other’s orbit the last couple of years -it was impossible not to- but since the breakup, they’d never been around each other long enough, never quite been in the right situations, for that opportunity to present itself again. But Paige had known that if she came to the Valkyries, it would be an inevitability. That belief had only been strengthened the day she’d visited the Bay Area. She’d been adamant from the second she’d gotten on the flight that she couldn’t be persuaded to join Golden State, no matter how much she respected the organization and how well she’d fit into their system; no matter how much she adored the city and its love for her favorite sport.

But then she’d met a little girl who had an identical smile to the one that had held her captive since she was fifteen and barely knew what love was. And if Stephie with her doe-eyed wisdom that Paige would look great in purple wasn’t enough, then there was Azzi. Paige had expected Azzi to tell her to decline the offer. In a way that’s what she wanted; the masochistic need to feel the sting of that rejection again so she wouldn’t be tempted to burn herself in the fire again. But the brunette had done the opposite and Paige had known by just how quick her resolve had succumbed, that she’d been right to fear the inevitability. And it was that fear that had prompted the verbal agreement with the Liberty; an escape plan she’d forgotten she’d devised. 

Because escaping had been the last thing on Paige’s mind the last few weeks. 

All of Paige’s fears and apprehension had seemed to take a backseat the moment Azzi had smiled -hesitant but real- and said she was ready to try, the moment Stephie’s tiny hands had fit perfectly into her own. 

But she can feel it all coming back now, bubbling to the surface and threatening to spill over like lava, wiping out this paradise she’s been in with Stephie and Azzi. It had started with the reminder of the Liberty deal but it’s Drew’s presence -his scowl directed at Azzi that feels like one of a brother still betrayed on his sister’s behalf- that had heightened it. Her little brother’s anger, and the genuine hurt that lingers behind it, feels like a dark reminder of Paige’s own heartbreak. 

Suddenly she feels like she’s 23, playing her first WNBA game and instead of celebrating a solid debut, she’s sobbing in her little brother’s lap over the girl who had walked away. 

“Miss Buecks,” Paige looks down to find Stephie crawling into her lap, “are we ready to order the pizza now?”

The little girl’s arms wrapping around her neck eases some of Paige’s discomfort as she smiles down at Stephie. 

“I’ve been ready for ages. You were the one yapping away,” she teases. 

Stephie pouts, “I don’t yap,” she turns her body towards Azzi, “Mama I don’t yap do I?”

Azzi’s own tense body seems to relax a little as she smirks at the two of them, “you definitely yap Stephie-”

“Mama,” Stephie protests, looking betrayed. 

“But not nearly as much as your Miss Buecks yaps,” Azzi’s eyes twinkle with mirth as Paige splutters, jaw dropping open with mock offense, “between the two of you, it’s a miracle my poor ears haven’t fallen off.”

“Just for that I’m not adding veggies to the pizza,” Paige sticks her tongue out, causing Stephie to giggle and Azzi to roll her eyes at the display of immaturity. 

Paige slips out her phone, pulling up their usual pizza place on doordash and quickly plugs in her memorized orders for everyone in the room as Stephie gets herself comfortable on the blonde’s lap. The five-year old leans her head back against Paige’s chest, who instinctively wraps her free hand around Stephie’s waist, keeping her securely in place. 

“So uncle Drew,” Stephie says with a grin, slightly leaning forward as she addresses the man sitting rigidly on the edge of the sofa, “did Miss Buecks yap a lot when she was younger too.”

“Be careful how you answer that,” Paige warns with a good natured glare in her brother’s direction, trying to lighten his mood. 

It works to an extent as a small smirk slips onto the edges of Drew’s lip, “oh she was a chronic yapper.”

“What does che-ronic mean?” Stephie asks, scrunching her nose in confusion.

Drew laughs, eyes glittering with mischief, “it means she didn’t know when to shut up.”

“Drew Thomas,” Paige guffaws, “you’re supposed to be my little brother, protecting your older sister’s honor and all of that.”

“Hey,” Drew raises his hand in surrender, “my older sister taught me to never lie, especially not to children.”

“Did you really talk that much?” Stephie asks, turning to Paige with wide eyes. 

“Don’t listen to him Stephie-bean,” the blonde says, brushing her hands through Stephie’s curls, “it’s all bullsh-”

“Paige,” Azzi hisses immediately as the older woman bites her lip to stop the curse word from escaping. 

“Bullsharks,” Paige amends, “fake news. False advertising. I was a calm and quiet kid for sure.”

Drew snorts, leaning back into the sofa and Paige lets out a soft sigh of relief at seeing her brother relax. Her eyes flicker over to Azzi, feeling a sense of calmness when she sees the younger girl’s nervous fidgeting has stilled and there’s a tentative smile on her face. 

 “You weren’t calm or quiet,” he says pointedly. 

“Was too,” Paige argues stubbornly. 

“Yes you were,” Drew presses, “Stephie if you don’t believe me, ask your Mama,” he turns to Azzi, “tell her Azzi. She literally yapped your ear off into becoming your friend.”

Azzi blanches, clearly shocked at having been so cavalierly addressed, and even Paige is a little surprised by the expectant “agree with me look” that Drew is giving the brunette after having spent the last moments practically glaring at her. But really it probably shouldn’t be that surprising. Because Drew and Paige are cut from the same material and letting Azzi into the folds seems to just come naturally to both of them. And it’s so familiar to when they’d all been years and years younger -two college students and a little boy - so familiar to the countless nights spent in Minnesota and DC and Connecticut where several silly arguments like this between Paige and Drew had ultimately ended with them both turning to Azzi -the forever moderator- in hopes that she’d side with them. 

She’d always sided with Drew -much to Paige’s chagrin, though she’d been secretly enamored by the relationship between her girlfriend and her brother- and this time is no different as Azzi shakes off the shock, replacing it with a cheeky expression. 

“Didn’t shut up for 14 whole hours,” she laments, her voice filled with teasing but she smiles at the blonde as if she’s reminiscing it, reminiscing the moment that began it all for them and Paige can’t help the hopelessly sappy smile she gives her in return. 

“14 hours? You talked for 14 whole hours, Miss Buecks?” Stephie’s eyes are comically large as she echoes the number. 

“Of course not,” Paige defends, eyebrows creasing as she glares at the other two adults in the room, “this is bullying. Stephie,” she whines, nuzzling her head into the little girl’s neck, “they’re ganging up on me.”

“There there Miss Buecks,” Stephie says diligently as she pats at the older woman’s cheek. 

“We’re just telling the truth,” Drew shrugs. 

“Exactly,” Azzi nods solemnly, “the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.”

She grins, reaching her hand out for a high five and Paige watches as Drew raises his own hand, ready to reciprocate. For a second it feels like everything is coming together; like the past could just stay in the past. But then he stops midair. The easy smile fades from his face and the previous tautness comes rushing back. He pulls his hand back, turning away from Azzi, who’s face slowly falls back. The lightheartedness from mere seconds ago is replaced by the tension from before and that burden of all that’s happened between us returns as a heavy weight pressed against Paige’s heart. 

“Paigey used to yap a lot,” Drew says slowly, “like I said you couldn’t get her to shut up and then one day,” he pauses, angry eyes darting towards Azzi, “one day she just got quiet- she shut up- she stopped yapping all the time.”

“Why?” Stephie asks softly, her tone a mixture of concern and genuine curiosity. 

Paige’s arm tightens around the little girl in her lap as she shoots her brother a pleading look, “Drew-”

“Because someone-” there’s so much venom in the word that it makes Azzi visibly flinch and Paige wants to soothe away the creases forming in her forehead, “someone broke her heart. And it took years- it took years to get her back to normal, to get her yapping again. To get my sister back to who she was.”

There’s pindrop silence as Drew seethes at his own words and Azzi rapidly blinks back tears, until Stephie turns around in Paige’s lap, tiny hands cupping the blonde’s face as she tries not to let her emotions show in front of the little girl. 

“Someone broke your heart?” Stephie looks so upset by the idea that Paige wants to vehemently deny it, “how could anyone break your heart Miss Buecks?”

She means well -just a child concerned for one of her favorite people- but she has no idea of the dagger she’s just twisted in her own mother’s heart as a faint whimper escapes Azzi’s lips. Paige opens and closes her mouth, hopelessly looking at the brunette who’s digging her fist into the sofa, despair embedded all over her face. 

“Stephie-” Paige tries to say. 

“Don’t worry kid,” Drew cuts in instead, his voice steady and firm, “it happened once but I won’t-” his eyes burn with fire as he looks at Azzi, “I won’t let it happen again.”

“Stephie,” Paige says quietly after a moment, her gaze transfixed on Azzi whose doing her absolute best not to let her emotions show in front of her little girl, “sweetheart how ‘bout you show Uncle Drew around the house.”

“I don’t want to see the house,” Drew says petulantly as he stubbornly crosses his arms over his chest

“Yes. You. Do.” Paige grits out, trying not to curse when her younger brother rolls his eyes at her. 

“C’mon Uncle Drew,” Stephie says cheerfully as she slips off of Paige’s lap and reaches a hand out for the man instead, “Miss Buecks has a really cool house and maybe we can go steal some of her cool clothes.”

Drew sighs but he’s not immune to Stephie’s infectious energy. A hint of a grin sneaks through the cracks as he accepts the little girl’s offer. Stephie starts to pull him towards the staircase but the perceptive girl stops for a second in front of her mother, a cautious look on her face as Azzi musters up a grin to mollify the little girl's concern and Drew adamantly averts looking at the other woman. 

“Go on bean,” Azzi urges softly, keeping her shaky voice under control, “go show him the house.”

Stephie nods before gently pressing her lips against Azzi’s cheeks, eliciting a deep breath from her mother, before she practically drags Drew towards the staircase, already speaking a mile per minute.  

There’s a pause, filled with a combination of the quiet rumble of Stephie blabbering upstairs and Azzi’s uneven breathing. Then the tears that the brunette had been trying so hard to barricade behind her eyelids starts cascading down her cheeks and Paige almost trips on her own feet as she moves towards her. She falls to her knees in front of Azzi, gently brushing her against her cheek, before wrapping her hands around her tightly formed fists. 

“Baby don’t cry. Please I hate it when you cry,” Paige whispers softly, pressing her forehead against Azzi’s, “he’s just-”

“He’s right,” Azzi cuts her off, shaking her head. 

“Az-”

“He hates me-”

“He doesn’t-”

“He does,” Azzi presses, her tears falling faster now, “and he should. Paige I did break your heart,” they both flinch at the blunt statement, “and he doesn’t trust me because of it and he hasn’t forgiven me for it. I haven’t forgiven me for it.”

“Baby,” Paige echoes again, unsure what else to say. 

“Have you forgiven me?” 

The question lingers in the air as Azzi looks expectantly at her and Paige stumbles over her words, trying to find the right ones. She doesn’t really know how to answer the questions; hadn’t been expecting to be confronted with it tonight. Paige wants to say yes; she wants to take away Azzi’s guilt so fucking bad. These last few weeks had been so perfect, Paige had convinced herself she was over what had happened almost a decade ago. But if she’s honest with herself -if she’s honest to the memories of every night she’d spent sobbing into her pillows, missing the girl in front of her and resenting her for walking away- Paige doesn’t really know if she has forgiven Azzi. 

“Paige?” Azzi ask again, her voice breaking on the one syllable. 

Paige’s face crumbles as she looks at the girl defenselessly, “ Az, I-”

The doorbell rings at the exact moment and Stephie comes excitedly barrelling down the staircase as the two women scramble away from each other, trying to compose themselves. 

“Miss Buecks, Mama,” the younger girl hollers, “pizza’s here.”

Paige looks at Azzi who’s rushing to wipe away the remnants of her tears. She opens her mouth, desperately willing herself to find something, anything that could offer the girl in front of her some comfort; that could take their relationship away from the precipice of this cliff they’ve somehow found themselves on. But the right words don’t materialize and instead Paige closes her mouth and turns away, slowly heading towards Stephie as Azzi’s question continues to wreak havoc in her mind. 

And she wishes she could rewind the clock and freeze them where they had been just a couple of hours ago, freeze them in a moment where the past hadn’t weighed so heavily on the present. But perhaps the past had always been there and they’d simply just done a marvelous job ignoring it. Except tonight, they can’t seem to ignore it anymore. 

***

Paige thinks pizza has never tasted so terrible in her life. The mood at her basically unused dining table is numbingly sober; even Stephie has stopped her chatter, the little girl clearly picking up on the tense atmosphere around her as she quietly nibbles away at her slice of pizza. It’s in stark contrast to the innumerable dinners they’d had in the last three weeks; the three of them -Paige, Azzi and Stephie in between them- at the table or the counter or sometimes even the couch, raucous with laughter and smiles. Paige doesn’t understand how moments can shift like this; how last night could have been filled with giggles and grins and tonight is filled with nothing but a silence filled with too many unspoken words.

Her eyes flicker over to Azzi, who’s making a concerted effort to keep her own everted from both Bueckers siblings. The brunette’s question from before feels like a loud horn blaring in Paige’s ears, one that she can’t seem to find the off-switch for no matter how hard she searches for it. They’re barely a couple feet apart, sitting opposite each other with Drew next to Paige and Stephie next to Azzi, but the width of the table feels like it stretches for miles. Paige misses the warmth of Azzi’s body pressed against hers, misses the sly brush of their hands before their fingers would inevitably curl around each other’s underneath the table where Stephie couldn’t see. 

“Miss Buecks,” Paige swallows, trying to shake off the feeling of is this us crumbling again, as she diverts attention to Stephie who’s smiling at her with that cheeky grin that means she wants something. 

“What’s up Stephie-bean?” Paige asks and she’s convinced there’s magic in the little girl’s existence because despite the tightness she still feels in her chest, having Stephie close feels like a reason for her to breathe through it. 

“Can I have a soda?” Stephie asks, using the palm of her hands to frame her slightly tilted face as she juts out her bottom lip in a pleading. 

Paige grins, ready to concede as she often is with the little girl but Azzi speaks first, “no soda Stephie.”

Stephie pouts, “why not?”

“Because I said so,” Azzi says bluntly and Paige is taken back by the sharpness of it. 

“Mama please,” Stephie begs, “please, please, please.”

“No Stephie,” there’s a warning edge to Azzi’s tone but Stephie doesn’t pay much heed to it continuing to plead and the irritation on her mother’s face -clearly exacerbated by other things- gets more and more apparent. 

“Please Mama. Pizza just doesn’t go down right without soda,” the little girl argues, “can I please just have a little bit. Just a teeny tiny bit Please, please pretty please please-”

“Stephie, no” Azzi repeats, pinching the bridge of her nose as Drew and Paige exchange nervous glances. 

“Stephie, yes,” the little girl argues, stubbornly crossing her hands over her chest. 

“Ste-”

“I want soda. I want soda. Please, please, please, plea-”

“I said no Stephanie,” Azzi all but yells, startling Stephie into being quiet and making both Drew and Paige flinch. The little girl is wide-eyed for a second -not used to anything but her mother’s normally gentle way of dealing with her occasional brattiness- before her lips begin to tremble and big fat tears begin to spill down her cheeks. She scrambles out of her chair, beelining towards Paige and climbing onto her lap as she burrows her face into the blonde’s neck, wetting her shirt with tears. 

“Shhh, shhh sweetheart it’s okay,” Paige whispers to the little girl, gently rocking the two of them back and forth as she strokes her hair. 

She glances at Azzi, who’s adamantly looking, her face stone cold but regret gleaming in her eyes, “Az-”

“No,” the younger woman says immediately. 

“C’mon,” Paige says exasperatedly, “you don’t even know what I was gonna say.”

“If it’s about giving her a soda, I don’t wanna hear it,” Azzi warns, “you can’t just give into all of her demands all the time, you have to learn to say no and she needs to learn to hear it.”

“I hear you but Az it’s a Friday-”

“Paige-”

“A tiny bit of soda to start the weekend can’t hurt. In fact,” Paige smirks down at the little girl in her lap as she coaxes Stephie’s face out of her neck so she can wipe away the tears on her blotchy red face, “I think a little soda to start the weekend is probably good for you.”

She feels her heart soar when it makes Stephie giggle, letting out a couple teary hiccoughs in between as she clutches onto Paige. 

“I think so too Mama,” the little girl echoes, looking back at her mother with a timid grin. 

“Give in Azzi,” Paige matches the pleading smile on Stephie’s face as she turns her focus onto the brunette, “she deserves a little treat 

“I know what she deserves. I think I know what’s good for my daughter,” Azzi says steely and Paige feels something cold squeezing through her ribcage, “no soda Stephie. End of discussion.”

My daughter. 

The thing is Paige doesn’t even really think she has the right to be upset over Azzi’s statements. Really, it’s nothing but the truth. Stephie is Azzi’s daughter and Azzi definitely knows what’s good for her daughter. So why does it sting like this? Why does it feel like little shards of ice piercing into her heart, leaving deep gashes that have her whole body feeling like it’s freezing over? Paige knows why, knows that these past weeks had been enough to trick her mind into believing the mirage that Stephie was hers. But now Azzi’s flicked her fingers against it causing the whole fantasy to come crashing down and Paige feels herself slowly getting buried under the rubble of it. 

“Right," she says softly, trying to keep her voice steady, “she’s your daughter and you know best,” she ignores the tinge of guilt in Azzi’s eyes as she turns to Stephie who looks like she’s ready to protest again, “you heard your Mama Stephie. No soda tonight.”

“But Miss Buecks-” Stephie whines. 

“No sweetheart,” Paige says gently, shaking her head. 

The little girl narrows her eyes before letting out a frustrated groan as she slips off of Paige’s lap. She loudly stomps her feet, glaring at all the adults in the room before she angrily storms upstairs. It’s so unlike the usually even-keeled little girl that Paige thinks it’s probably a reaction to the tension she can sense between the adults. Her eyes drift over Drew -who’s chewing at his lips in a similar manner to how his big sister often does- before locking with Azzi’s and she feels that familiar guilt of there’s always collateral damage for our mistakes pooling at the pit of her stomach. The brunette breaks eye contact first, letting out a heavy sigh before she follows behind her daughter and Paige lets her face fall into her hands, 

It feels like everything’s in free fall, like during an earthquake when everything shakes and the books -the complicatedly tangled stories of the past and present- go flying from their shelves. Paige rubs at her eyelids, trying to make this helpless feeling go away. Her fingers are coiled tightly around a rope, just like they had been on that night eight years ago and just like that night, she can feel the tips of them starting to bleed. She can feel Drew’s gaze fixated on her; can tell he’s contemplating whether to say something or not. Swallowing, Paige pulls her face out of her palms to look at her brother, a decisively defiant expression on her face. 

“Something you wanna say?” she asks him, cocking her eyebrows as if she’s daring him to speak. 

Drew hesitates for a second before an almost identical expression crosses his face, “what the fuck are you doing Paige?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Paige replies airly. 

Drew narrows his eyes at her, “seriously?”

“Seriously,” Paige shrugs. 

“This was supposed to be a temporary arrangement Paige,” Drew says, ignoring the way his sister flinches at the reminder as he drops his voice lower so they can’t be overheard, “you were supposed to be with Golden State for one season, hopefully win a championship and then you’d be off to New York at the end. That was the plan but clearly all of that has gone flying out the window. You’re getting attached to this city, this life, to them.” 

A barely believable “of course I’m not,” flutters weakly off of Paige’s lip as she blinks rapidly at the accusation. 

“Oh for fucks sake,” Drew curses, “Paige your bed looks like it hasn’t been slept in, in days. There’s almost no groceries in your fridge or your pantry. From what I saw of the garden, it’s basically been left for dead. Your closet is half empty and it sure as shit isn’t because they’re all in the laundry because as Stephie puts it, Azzi says that their laundry basket is three times heavier than it used to be with all your clothes.”

“I-I don’t-” Paige stutters, “that- that doesn’t- doesn’t mean-”

“It’s been two months -if even that- two months Paige and I think you're in even deeper now than you were the last time,” Drew spits the last two words out bitterly like their flames on the tip of his tongue and the sparks of it singe Paige’s skin. 

“That’s not- I’m not-” she tries to justify but it sounds hollow to her own ears. 

“You are,” Drew says exasperatedly, “what are you gonna do when she walks away again? When she lets you go again, what are you gonna do Paige?”

Her little brother isn’t cruel but Paige swears she’s never heard anything more aimed to hurt than these perfectly directed arrows he’s launching straight at her heart. The defense of she’s not going to leave me stays stuck in her throats, battling against the harsh thoughts of she already has that are taunting her. 

“She- I- you- this- I don’t- you can’t-” Paige doesn’t even know what she’s trying to say; she feels like a fish spluttering outside of the water, desperate to breathe air that seems to kill her the more she inhales it. 

Drew looks away, his face crumpling slightly, a mixture of sadness and guilt gleaming in his eyes, and Paige can tell that he hates himself a little for being the one to cause her this torment, the one to make her face the darkest possibility of her reality. 

“I was there Paige,” he says softly, “I was the one who watched you break in ways that I didn’t even think you were breakable,” his voice snaps, “and I was the one who watched how hard you had to work to put yourself back together. I don’t wanna see any of that again.”

“Drew,” Paige whispers. 

“And it wasn’t just her,” Drew continues, “you lost her family too.”

Paige gulps at the reminder, “they were still there. They came to games. They were at my wedding.”

Drew shakes his head, “but it wasn’t the same and you know it. You lost her and you lost them and this time,” he bites his lip, like he wishes the next words weren’t sitting on his vocal chords, waiting to spill out, “this time, if you lose her, you’ll lose a lot more.”

“What do you-” Paige heistates, unsure if she even wants to ask, “what do you mean?”

Her little brother pauses, mouth opening and closing like it’s painful to speak, before his eyes drift towards the stairs and Paige feels her heart sinking even before Drew says the words she knows he’s about to say. 

“You’ll lose her daughter. You’ll lose Stephie.”

“No,” the whispered syllable is out before Paige can even stop it, “no, no, no, no-”

“Paige-”

“Stop it Drew,” the blonde says louder than she wanted to as she clutches at her heart, trying to keep it whole as the tears overflow over her waterline. 

“Stop what Paige? Stop saying things you already know deep down but are choosing to ignore? Is that what you want me to stop doing?” Drew asks harshly. 

“Drew-”

“There’s a reason you didn’t want to commit to the Valkyries and you know it. There’s a reason you only wanted to be here for this season.” her younger brother says firmly. 

“I know,” Paige whispers, “I know.”

Drew’s eyes soften, “stick to plan Paige. Let the Liberty be the end goal. You’ll be in New York by the end of October.”

Paige bites her lip so hard, she can taste that morbid taste of iron on her lips as she opens her mouth to say something. She’s not sure if it’s to argue with Drew or to agree and she doesn’t get a chance to find out. Instead there’s a sharp intake of breath and then a quiet, timid voice laced with accusation and Paige feels the blood drain out of her body as she slowly turns around to find Stephie and Azzi -their faces ashen with identical expressions of betrayal- staring at her. 

“Miss Buecks, you’re moving to New York?”

[henry7931]

Halloween Tales: Pumkle!

Caleb:

Okay I realize it’s not the best looking pumpkin but I tried my best! And I really wanted to do something fun for the season so… I guess I started with carving a pumpkin? I even named him Albert lol.

I’m 21, single, gay, and kinda lonely all around. I’ve really tried making attempts at making friends in my new college town but I guess I’m just weird. Plus, it doesn’t help that my parents got me a townhome to myself.

I started to head inside when I heard the sound of a car pulling in. I look up and knew instantly by the 2009 mustang that it was in fact my uncle Dennis.

“Oh great!”

Dennis climbs out and immediately starts talking.

“Sup Bud!”

“Hi Uncle Dennis. What are you doing here?”

“Well I talk to my brother and I’m out of a job right now. And he said I can come live with you for a bit. So looks like we’re roommates!”

“Fuck…” I say under my breath.

I thought for a moment he heard me but he just kept talking… which eventually turned into a ramble.

“So yeah, like I was saying you’re going to have to be cool with what I want around here. Starting with getting rid of this stupid pumpkin.”

“Oh come on Dennis! I just got done with carving it! His name’s Albert.”

“Ha! You named him? How fucking silly! We’ll say goodbye to Andy.”

“Albert.”

Dennis carries my pumpkin to our dumpster and tosses it in.

I walk back into my house pissed off. I couldn’t believe he just did that!

I stayed in my room for hours trying my best to avoid him. But eventually I have to leave my room.

It’s 8 o’clock now and I walk out of my room. I look around and Dennis had literally turned my place into his own person man cave.

I walk outside to find sitting on my front porch.

“You’re awake! I was wonderin when you’re gonna start cooking dinner because I’m starving!”

“Bro you can’t cook?”

“Hell no! But you can,” he says lighting a cigarette.

“Why would I do that,” I say crossing my arms.

“Well you can cook for me or I can tell your parents all the bad things you’ve been doing here.”

I roll my eyes and stormed into the kitchen. I cook for him and he even complained about the food!

After that, I uncle Dennis pulled off his clothes down to his boxers and flung his body on the couch. I couldn’t believe his lack of decency. But I also felt something strange deep inside of me. A weird attraction to his fit body.

I realize my uncle is a good looking man but his personality sucks! And I feel so grossed out by even finding myself being so turned on…

But his big smelly feet… his pits… his chest… his bulge… god it’s been a minute since I’ve seen a handsome my body that wasn’t on the internet.

I run off to bed and lay down. I realize that I have a raging boner. So I angrily started jerking off trying not to think about Dennis.

But alas… his body is all I have on my mind.

I think about how he’s such a dick that I literally blurt out, “I wish that I could change Dennis! That someone or something would just takeover him and let me do whatever I want with his body! I want to smell his feet so bad! I want to feel his cock… his balls! Have his strong hands rub all over me!!! Ohhhh fucccccc…”

I came at the thought and soon fell asleep.

The Next Morning…

I wake up and get out of bed. I head to the bathroom and here Dennis is inside.

“Hey Dennis can you hurry up! I have to pee!”

Dennis swings open the door and he’s standing in his briefs last night and he’s WEARING MY PUMPKIN ALBERT OVER HIS HEAD!

“Really funny Dennis! Now take it off.”

Dennis shrugs at me and then I notice something… the pumpkin is hallow…

I begin to scream and run… the pumpkinhead wearing uncles body follows me until I’m in a corner.

“What are you going to do to me?!?,” I say to it as it fully approaches.

He reaches out and grabs my hand. He moves my hand to Dennis’s crotch. He return reaches into my pajama pants and starts fondling my dick…

“Holy crap…”

I lose train of thought for second because it feels so good.

“ Hold on a sec, how and why are you controlling Dennis’s body?”

He turns and looks around the room trying to search for something. And then gestures like he wants to write something.

I find him a pin and paper. I give it to him and he starts to write.

“Hi Caleb, it’s me Albert! I heard your wish last night and decided to take over Dennis. Thank you for granting me his body, I’m so happy to have it. Now I can’t wait to serve you. This body is now just as much as yours as it is mine. Oh and one more thing! Sorry I look scary right now butI’ll look normal soon I promise!”

“My wish… that’s right! Wait… What about Dennis’s uhhh head.”

Albert grabs my hand and leads me to the front porch. I see a new pumpkin sitting with what looks to be a very angry face.

“That’s Dennis?”

He gives me a thumbs up.

“So what now?”

He takes my hand and leads me back to the bedroom.

Albert lays down on my bed and pulls off his new bodies briefs.

The beautiful body that once belonged to my Uncle Dennis is now completely naked in front of me.

I thought for a moment that maybe I should stop but what’s the point? I can’t undo anything now.

I get into bed with him and immediately press my face into his crotch. He has this mush to him that so hot to me and I just know it’s been a minute since his body has had a proper shower.

I kiss down his thighs and look down at his big sexy feet.

I look up at Albert and say, “feel free to play with your new dick for a few. I’m going to be down here,” I say directing to his feet.

I run my tongue up and down his soles while watching Albert gently fondle his new dick. He twists his nipples which causes his dick to leak a bit.

I stand up and pull off everything that I’m wearing.

I put his big feet together and start rubbing my boner in between his soles. Albert catches on and starts giving me a foot job.

He works his toes so well… it’s impressive especially since last night he didn’t have any.

I moaning loudly and Albert pace’s faster on both of our cocks. Im watching his big hairy balls move up and down… his tight grip on his cock…

I can’t take much more…

We both explode at the same time. His feet and his chest is covered in cum.

I lick his toes clean and work my way up to his chest.

I lick his cum off of him and I notice something. His cum has a pumpkin flavor to it.

I bust out laughing and crawl up to his chest. He pulls me in and we’re both lying naked cuddled up together.

A few hours later, we wake up from a nap and we’re both hard again. This time Albert takes control and works my cock for me.

I cum again and crawl down to his dick. I give his throbbing head a kiss before sucking him off.

Albert seems to love it from how squirmy it made his body. He must have known he was close because he literally pushes my head in and cums down my throat.

We eventually get up and I take us to the bathroom.

I turn on the shower and we both get in. Our bodies are rubbing soap all on each other and I keep kissing him. Albert seems to be fascinated by my cock because he can’t stop touching it.

I feel his cute hairy butt and got an idea. I gingerly inserted a finger into his hole.

“Is that okay?” I ask him.

That’s when he makes almost a grunting noise.

“Oh my god Albert! Are you about to speak?”

“Mmmmhuuuu-yuuu-sss.”

“Wow! Thats awesome!”

After our shower I dry us off and I head to the suitcase Derek brought. I dig through his clothes and found an outfit for Albert that I thought would look sexy on him.

I get him dressed and he sits on the couch. I pull my phone out to take a picture.

“Okay! Flex for me sexy!”

He taps at the couch to come sit with him but I tug off his boots and pull off his socks.

“Sorry I like seeing them.”

He wraps his arm around me and we watch a Halloween horror special together.

Soon it’s night time and I offer to cook for Albert but instead he gets up. He heads to the kitchen and starts cooking for me.

“You’re so sweet!”

As he brings out a plate, he starts to make a muffling noise.

“Uuuu— rr— muh-muh love.”

“Aww thank you. You’re my love too.”

After dinner, we both strip out of our clothes and full around for the third time.

This time Albert lets me insert a couple of fingers into his hole. I work it for a bit trying to be soft since he’s so tight.

I pull out and carefully insert my dick into him. His body quivers, I move back and forth inside of him.

He runs his hands all over me. He starts to moan…it’s a deep moan that sounds almost like Dennis’s voice.

“Harder Caleb! It feels soooo good,” he says clear as day.

I go faster and faster….

We’re both moaning so loud!

I feel myself about to cum inside of him and his dick explodes.

I lick his chest clean and we both fell asleep.

The next morning I wake up and almost thought yesterday was a dream.

I look over and Albert’s not in bed with me. But I notice a bunch of pieces of pumpkin are laying in the bed.

“Oh my god Albert!”

I rush out of my bedroom and run to the living room.

But I’m caught off guard when I hear a familiar voice say, “Good morning Caleb.”

I turn and see him… he has a human head! An exact match of Dennis…

“Hi…,” I say taking precaution just in case last night was a dream.

“Sorry, I wanted to surprise you. Do you like the new head?”

“Albert?”

“It’s me my love!”

I rush over to him and touch his face.

“God, this is… wow this is amazing!”

I kiss his lips and we keep kissing over and over again.

“So can I do that thing with my new mouth on your cock now?”

“Oh god yes!”

A Month Later…

“So you ready to meet our family?”

“Yeah but do I have to pretend I’m Dennis?”

“Yeah babe and you can’t be flirty with my parents around. It’s taboo.”

“Fine! But can we at least share a bed?”

“Well I guess I’m sure that would be fine since they only have my old bed.”

“Great! Now come give your uncle Dennis a kiss before we have to go!”

I roll my eyes and pulled Albert in for a long kiss.

“Oh don’t forget the pumpkin pie! I made it from scratch.” 😉

[sparklysung]

✨MEDDLE ABOUT – s.j.y.✨

© sparklysung – 2024. all rights reserved. no reposts, modifications and/or translations allowed.

pairing – sim jaeyun x female!reader

genre – smut | non-idol!au, university!au, strangers to lovers!au

warnings – kinda dom!reader (?), awkward!jake, oral (f. receiving), a bit of grinding maybe (?), mentions of alcohol and weed, pet names (mainly pup or puppy), physics major!jake, chemistry major!reader, reader calls jake a nerd lol. lmk if i forgot something!

word count – 2.370 words

summary – the one where jake ends up on his knees, eating you out after meeting you in a crowded bar. 

note – so i guess i’m back? from the dead? i’m so sorry if anyone cares that i literally for like a hot minute:’) i’m approaching the end of my university program so i’ve been super busy in the past couple years. stressed? all day every day. wanting to graduate asap? hell yeah. anyway, this was obviously inspired by meddle about – chase atlantic since i’ve been obsessed with them lately. pls lmk what you guys think, i’m trying to get back into writing and this is the first piece i’ve been able to finish so far lol. but pls be kind with me or i’ll cry lol i’m really anxious about posting again but fuck it we ball. this was also not proofread so ignore the errors if you find any lol. also lmk what y’all think about maybe starting a playlist type of series? with different idols and songs?

well, come and get it now,

when jake agreed to go bar hopping on a regular wednesday night with his friend group, he was not expecting the chain of events that would lead to where he was now. 

sure, he was hoping for a good time, especially since wednesdays were designated ‘dollar beers’ and the usually expensive alcoholic drinks were at a more accessible price. it was the perfect opportunity for broke college students to go out and get drunk while on a budget. 

that was why he did not put up much of a fight when jay let him know about their plan for the night, quickly coming to terms with the idea that he was going to have to show up to class horribly hungover. he knew no matter how many excuses he offered, jay was not going to take no for an answer. 

so, at 8 pm, jake took one last look at himself in the mirror, psyching himself up for what the night had prepared for him, before heading to jay’s place. 

come and get it now. 

“you made it.”

jay commented as soon as he propped the door to his apartment open, a satisfied smirk adorning his face. 

jake trailed behind his friend like a lost puppy, a bit anxious and painfully sober. once they reached the nicely decorated living room, the group was finally complete. 

by the look of it –if the others’ flushed cheeks were something to go by–, the night had already begun. 

his friends were chatting loudly, the sound of laughter and alcoholic beverages being passed around filled the otherwise neat area. the cold night air made him shudder as he joined the group, the smell of weed coming from the balcony making his lungs burn. 

baby, show me what you’re doing, 

before he knew it, jake found himself surrounded by sweaty bodies, the stuffy air enhancing the effect of the weed he had smoked earlier. the music blasting out of the multiple speakers scattered around the bar, the bass making his body feel numb. 

jake joined his friends, dancing with not a single care in the world, the concerns about school quickly slipping out of his intoxicated mind. 

it felt great to finally be able to relax for once. 

however, just as he was starting to enjoy the night, he somehow managed to make a fool of himself. 

“fuck,” jake yelp, utterly embarrassed. “i’m so sorry, i swear i didn’t mean to spill your drink!”

come and turn around. 

“you can make it up to me by getting me a new one?”

the sound of your melodic voice made his head tilt upwards, following the source, shame washing over his body when he got a look at you. 

you were hot. 

a little stunned by your pretty face, he struggled to say something. 

“o-of course!” he blurted out a little too loudly for comfort, and jake’s cheeks grew hot when you giggled at his awkwardness. 

we only met each other just the other day,

“i take it this is not your scene?” you wondered out loud, obviously trying to start a conversation with the cute boy. 

“uh, something like that,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his head, visibly nervous. “i don’t usually go out on weekdays, especially when i have class morning classes the next day.”

“i see,” you hummed, thinking about your own morning classes tomorrow. but who cared, right? have fun now and deal with the consequences later. 

“so, uh, what’s your program?” you smiled to yourself at his attempt at keeping the conversation alive, relieved to know he interested in you enough to engage with you.  

“chemistry.”

his eyebrows shot up at your words, impressed. 

“no way, i wasn’t expecting that.”

“yeah? what’s yours?”

“physics.”

you gasped loudly, feigning shock, and he smiled abashedly. 

“good thing i’m into nerds.”

but you already got me feeling some type of way. 

you were so bold with your words, so smooth with the way you flirted with him. your honey-like voice had him blindly agreeing with you, almost in a trance-like state. you could be asking him to trade his soul for a chicken nugget and he would instantly agree, no questions asked. 

the way you blinked at him, long lashes fluttering so innocently as your glazed over eyes stared straight through him, spiking up his heart rate. your body leaned closer with his every word, fingers toying with a loose strand of your silky hair in such an endearing way his fuzzy mind could not comprehend. 

it had to be illegal to be this attractive. 

and you were guilty as charged. 

now, if i could figure it out,

one thing led to another and soon your lips were on his plush ones, leaving a kiss that felt like a cup of hot chocolate in the winter. warm and sweet. 

jake was able to shake off the initial surprise and deepened the kiss. one hand found its way into the nape of your head, pulling you closer, and the other to the small of your back. his touch was hot and reassuring, allowing you to get lost in the feeling of his mouth on yours. 

your short dress rode up revealing more of your thighs as you reached for his broad, strong shoulders for support, your weight leaning on his athletic body. and to your delight, you could already feel the hardening bulge in his pants. 

he pulled away, his breathing uneven and lips swollen, appearing dazed. 

“wanna get out of here?”

i’d take you back to my house so we can meddle about. 

jake barely managed to lock the door before you were pushing him against it, arms going to wrap around his neck to bring him in for a kiss. your hungry lips on his, your hot body against him, the scent of your perfume. the combination of sensations overwhelming his senses and leaving him panting for air. 

he couldn’t get enough of you. 

jake noted to thank jay later for almost dragging him out of his house. 

your ministrations, the gentle but eager touch of your hands and your searing lips on his sensitive neck had jake struggling to keep up, far too aroused to think straight. his pants had become considerably tighter since he met you earlier. and he couldn’t help but push his hips into yours, searching for some much needed relief. 

the giggle you let out at his desperate attempt at humping you had a frustrated whimper almost escaping the poor boy. 

so pretty.

“aw, is my puppy getting impatient?” you asked in the most taunting tone, getting off on teasing him. 

“y/n, please, i need something,” jake pleaded, cock throbbing in his jeans. “anything.”

and who were you to deny such a polite boy?

somehow you both managed to stumble into his room, hands never leaving the other. 

‘cause it’s not just a figure of speech,

jake’s body fully sprawled on the bed trembled when you brought a hand to cup the tent in his jeans. his groans only grew louder, raw with desire as you slipped your hand under the fabric and made direct contact with his length. 

jake thought he was having a fever dream from how stupidly hot his body felt. each caress of your soft hands had him weak on the knees, hips bucking to follow your touch, not caring about how needy he seemed. 

your panties were drenched as you felt him up, mouth watering at the thought of his dick fucking your throat until you choked. 

but that could wait. what you needed right now was his mouth on your dripping core. 

you got me down on my knees. 

“fuck, please,” he whined, “let me taste you.”

jake looked at you from his place on the floor, looking all desperate to get his hands on you. you could see his pretty eyes shining even in the darkness, a glint of need letting you know just how much he wanted you. 

slowly, you lifted your dress to reveal your underwear, your fingers teasing the hem of the garment. 

he swallowed, his mouth uncomfortably dry. his own fingers itched to reach for you and get your panties off himself, too eager to get more of you to wait.

your eyes scanned the boy in front of you, eyebrows scrunched together, a bead of sweat dripping down his temple. despite your limited vision, you could easily make out the outline of his cock in his pants. you almost wanted to jump straight into business just to get a look, wondering what shade of pink it was.

key word: almost. 

“what’s wrong, puppy?” you teased, biting back a smirk. when he only huffed in response, you decided to push further. “speak up, sim, i asked you a question.”

his hard cock twitched from the confines of his jeans at your tone. 

you looked annoyed, tapping your foot impatiently as you waited for an answer. 

“i need you, please,” his words came out slurred, too horny to care. 

you nodded, raising a brow at him. “it wasn’t that hard now, was it?”

his body almost vibrated with excitement when you pulled your panties down your legs. you stepped closer to him once they hit the floor, and his eyes immediately shot to the discarded piece of clothing, breathing getting heavier when he found the wet patch at the crotch. 

among the wide range of traits you possessed, liar wasn’t one of them. the sight of him, on his knees, begging to please you, had you rubbing your thighs together. your neglected core dripping with arousal. 

“be a good pup and eat me out.”

jake perked up as soon as his brain processed your words, scooting closer without a care for his knees. he hummed when you gasped at the feeling of his tongue licking a stripe up your slit. 

it’s getting harder to breathe out. 

jake groaned when you pushed his head closer, his nose digging into your pussy and putting pressure on your clit. his hands immediately went to grab at your thighs, gripping them for dear life. 

he was enamoured with the way your hips bucked into his mouth, your plush lips letting moans escape. it was like music to his ears. 

girl, just scream it out,

jake could barely breathe but he didn’t care. all he could think about was the intoxicating scent of your arousal, how sweet you tasted on his tongue. he could feel a mixture of your juices and his saliva drip down his neck, and he felt like he was about to cum in his pants like a bitch in heat. 

his hips desperately humped the air, too engrossed in making you cum all over his face to feel embarrassed. your fingers tangled in his soft locks, tugging at the roots whenever his tongue swiped just right only egging him on to work harder. 

tell me what you’re thinking about. 

“j-jake,” you whined, feeling the knot in your stomach tightening at the speed of light. “don’t stop.”

bet, he thought. 

if the way your thighs were trembling around his head was something to go by, he knew you were close. 

feeling you fall apart just from his mouth only was driving him insane. he couldn’t wait to see you take his cock, velvety walls stretched around his thickness. he wanted to hear your sweet moans as you struggled to fit him whole, pussy too tight for such a big dick. 

hell, just the idea if it had jake eating you out like he would never get pussy ever again. his skilled tongue poked at your entrance, trying to push it as far as he could, relishing in the squelching sounds filling the room. 

“fuck,” he moan into your pussy when you pulled his hair a little harsher than before, the vibrations directly against your clit sending you over the edge. 

you swore your mind blanked out for a second there. your orgasm washed over you like a tsunami, leaving you light headed. your body convulsed as if you were experiencing a demonic possession first hand, hips humping jake’s face like a rabid dog, riding out your high. and if it weren’t for jake’s grip on you, you would’ve hit the floor. 

once you regained a hint of control over your body, you pushed his head away from your sensitive core. 

to your satisfaction, jake looked as equally as fucked out as you. his once pristine shirt was now clinging to his toned body due to the sweat, his dark hair disheveled and sticking to his forehead. his pupils were blown out, chest heaving up and down at a concerningly fast pace. 

you had him exactly how you liked men, utterly ruined. 

with a sly grin on your face, you pulled him back up on his feet by his shirt. before he could yelp, your lips crashed against his in a heated kiss. jake stumbled towards you, unintentionally pressing your body into the cold wall behind you.

his hands grabbed your hips to pull you impossibly closer, need to feel more of you. your fingers wandered back to his hair, playing with the strands of silky hair and hissing against your lips when you pulled a little too hard. 

his body felt like it had been lit on fire, the touch of his large hands almost burning you, leaving behind an invisible outline of his hand on your skin. the kiss you shared grew more passionate, more desperate with each passing moment, your tongues waltzing to the pace of your fast-beating hearts. 

although you were enjoying the heated exchange, you both needed more. 

no, i wanna see you undress now. 

you hastily removed your clothes, tossing them somewhere in the room. jake followed suit, matching your eagerness, ready to pounce on you the moment he got the chance. 

soon you found yourselves all over each other once again, hands touching and feeling up the other’s body, lips finding each other with a growing intensity. 

jake placed you on his bed, looking down at you like you just escaped his wildest dreams. 

i wanna hear you confess now. 

“i want you to fuck me, jake.”

–lia:)

[madamechrissy]

♡ Time after Time ♡

♡ ♡ Pairings ♡ ♡ CEO! Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader

♡ ♡ Warnings ♡ ♡ MDNI- Cunnilingus, explicit sex, choking, smacking, breeding kink, fr a huge breeding kink, dirty talk, edging, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, forced orgasms, biting

♡ ♡ Summary ♡ ♡ Gojo Satoru is your boss And you've been his head assistant for over two years now. You do everything for him, including and not limited to cleaning his messes, picking out his clothes, and writing his speeches. Sixteen hour days... night calls... You are tired of being overworked and at his beck and call. You decide you are going to put in your two weeks notice. He is shocked, and wants to try to keep you, because you're the best. But you know better. Right? . You really wanna fucking quit. You also wanna fuck him. Also, fuck him.

A/N (Kinda has 'two weeks notice' vibes a bit! No use of y/n.) Fully finished on Ao3 but I'm going to slowly get it all up here! (Gojo's POV in itallics)

Chapter 7 - Masterlist - Playlist

Chapter 8

Your pussy was aching from Gojo Satoru, your neck sensitive from his bites, ass sore from his rough grip, bruises on your thighs making you shiver as you stood, your body was still reeling. Gojo had left yesterday afternoon, pushing your date off a day so that you could ‘recover’. Shit, you needed to. You had slept damn near the whole day once he’d gone.

The date was something he would not tell you about. He had simply smirked and said it was a mystery.

A surprise is a surprise.

But…

It’ll get that stick out of your ass. Relax and trust me.

A knock shook you out of your reverie, then, and you went to open your door to see a package dropped off, another pretty box like Gojo had sent last week for the charity ball. You flushed, nervous at what this all meant, falling so bad for such a silly man child, and falling harder with each breath. You shiver a bit with excitement and anticipation as you bring the box in.

Sitting it on the bed, your mind whirls with how much has changed in such a small time, feelings uncovered you’d always had so deep. There was no hiding from it anymore, not when you damn near dropped the L bomb mid fuck. You try to explain it away as some orgasm brain, but deep down you know it’s something else.

You take the pretty ribbon off, putting it with the last one you’d saved in your top drawer, they were far too pretty to just toss away. You peek at your little selfie with him, flushing like some damn school girl, just like little Miwa, but you were grown. Right? Why did he have such an effect…

You go back to the job of opening the package, with its pretty blue and white tissue paper, you wonder errantly if it’s Kiyotaka who has to do this because you can’t imagine it from Gojo. You see lingerie, and you feel your entire body heat up, black and lacy bralette with a high waisted lacy bottom, attached were little straps for stockings, which you saw were right under it.

You take out the little fishnets, and then there is a gorgeous body chain laid out on velvet, one that would go up around your neck, draping down between your breasts, and would wrap down the middle of your waist. It was a glittering silver chain, looking so delicate and pretty, something you would honestly have never thought to get yourself, but something you craved to wear now.

For him.

There was a little note, and that made you more nervous, biting your lip apprehensively, taking the little card out. Gojo had messy, wide, scrawling handwriting, usually making you write most things for him, and it made you want to chuckle as you tried to read it.

‘Put this on for me, pretty please! I am using puppy dog eyes, so you can’t deny me. Kiyotaka will be there at 8.’

You rolled your eyes, but then grew confused. What were you going to wear over it? Where were you going and how should you dress? Puppy dog eyes huh…Then you got another knock.

“Shit, Gojo… how much…” There was another knock, and another package. Again no one was there, like Gojo did this to fuck with you. You took the large red bag, and sat it also on your bed, and it was a red overcoat. A long one, looking like something some detective would wear.

You peer for some dress, but no. Another note.

‘I have this fantasy of you in lingerie under a big ass trenchcoat, nothing else. Humour me would you? *Puppy eyes*’

You snorted in laughter, and felt heat between your thighs. Where were you all going that it would be acceptable to wear such a thing, the thought of it drove you crazy, mind wild. Some raunchy sex club? Some crazy rich people party? You had no clue what to expect. You went to go touch up your hair and do your makeup, and your eyes sparkled at you.

You had rosy cheeks, and a smile… a smile, huh? You peer back at the photo, and realize maybe the happiness wasn’t gone, maybe it had been buried. Maybe it was not even full happiness before this, but you tried not to think too much of it, overthink and ruin things before they started. Overthinking fucking brain.

You turn to slide on the wicked lingerie, making your breasts sit high, lace cupping them like a gentle hug. Then you slid on the crotchless panties that hit mid waist, musing over the last time you’d worn them just the other night, in that bar, snapping it against your…

It was like your thoughts were consumed now.

You fiddle with the garters, unused to such things, sliding the wide fishnets over your smooth thighs. You’d shaved every inch of them and… your intimate area… just a little bit ago, something you’d been doing since Gojo’s affinity for just diving down there. You would never admit that was why, of course.

The chain you pulled out gently, guiding it over your body, it draped around your throat and between your pretty breasts, making them more enticing. You clasp the little back around your waist, securing it, the cold metal against your overheated flesh making you tremble at the sensation.

You peeked and found thigh high boots you’d never had the guts to wear, but had bought because they were sexy. You slid them over your legs, zipping them up, peering in your dresser mirror. The lingerie flatters and enhances your every curve, as you turn you notice even your backside looks amazing, as if Gojo had it in mind to enhance his favorite parts.

Your pussy was left open, bare, giving a thrill as you slid on the long red overcoat, sort of baggy on you, which you had a feeling was his intent since he knew your size so well. You button it up but leave a couple at the top open, loose, knowing it would drive him crazy, and playing into it. You peek at your neck, seeing the bruise he’d left, and pop a thick black choker on to complete the look.

The choker reminded you of hands you’d had on your neck.

You spritz on your new favorite spray, the one Gojo just lost his mind over, touching up your mascara and lip gloss. You hear the phone start to ring, and it’s Kiyotaka. You smile.

“Hello, Sir.”

“My lady.” He was the cutest. “Mr. Gojo has asked me to take you to him, I’ll be waiting right here when you’re ready.”

“Thanks I’ll be right down!” You turn off your lights and lock up, and as you end up riding in the back of the car, your mind runs wild.

“We’re here, my Lady.” Kiyotaka opens your door, and you realize where you are quickly. You’d been there a lot to help Gojo out of his messes. His house.

“What’s he up to, Kiyotaka?” You asked, he actually smiled a tired little smile then, shaking his head.

“I am sworn to secrecy, also the details were… too much.” He was flushing even in the dim evening. You giggled, touching his shoulder fondly.

“Gojo’s a lot. Okay, have a good night and don’t worry I’ll just crash here so you can get some sleep.”

“Mr. Gojo has a destination in mind, this is the first stop.”

“Oh…”

“I'll be back presently, miss.” He said and drove away, leaving you staring at the house in front of you.

The air was crisp and cool, a light breeze rustling through the trees around you, as if Gojo had his own little area of peace, in between the lush trees was his large house, opulent, ceiling to floor windows illuminated with a soft glow. As you stood on the steps of his house now, tapping your fingers against the smooth wood of the railing, wondering if Gojo would meet you out front or not.

Little shit he was, he didn’t.

You ring the bell, and stand and wait outside that opulent manor of his. A few long moments later, the sound of footsteps could be heard approaching from within the house, growing louder and faster until the door swung open, revealing Gojo Satoru himself. His bright blue eyes lit up in the dark, the background light casting a glow around him like he was some god.

Maybe he was.

When those eyes fell upon you, his gaze traveled up and down your body slowly, taking in every detail of the outfit he'd so carefully chosen for you. "You look beautiful. Part one of my fantasy is perfect." He breathed, his voice thick with desire.

You felt your familiar blush, the one that never went away long around him, as he bent down and you tiptoed, kissing each other. “Thank you for the… ahem… for the outfit. It’s so pretty.”

“I can’t wait to see it fully.” He stood, hand caressing your throat, fingering the little choker you wore. “Ooh, that’s hot on you.”

“Thank you. You gonna invite me in?” Your hands fall on his chest, covered by a soft white dress shirt.

“Oh I don’t know, what if you are a vampire? Shit I’m scared!” He asked, feigning fear then, a cross on his fingers. You snorted, shoving at him.

“You’re the vampire. Look.” You ease your choker up, showing him the giant red and purple bruise. He sucked in his breath, and suddenly you were in the house, shoved against his wall.

“Does it hurt?” He asked, and you were unsure of how he meant his words, a taunt? Concern?

“No, it’s just tender.” He kissed you softer, yanking on the choker just a bit, putting the slightest pull to your neck. “Mnh.”

Did that come out of your mouth? From just that?

“Oh sweetheart, you already are becoming a fucking freak.” He crooned the words, one hand on the wall next to you, the other rubbing across the exposed mark, causing you to tense in a mix of pain and desire. “I barely touch you and you fall apart, bet you’re wet aren’t you?”

“N-no. It's just… shit. Fine, maybe a little.” He slid the choker up and licked the bite mark, sending sparks of pain down you, making your tummy clench with desire so quickly it was ridiculous.

Gojo was so close, your air intermingling, hot sighs against your soft skin, you inhaled him, enveloped against his hard embrace. “Hmm. You sure are learning not to lie to me, that’s my good girl.” He slipped a hand down under the coat at the top, moaning softly when he grabbed a soft breast, pleased look on his gorgeous features. “You wore it.”

“Y-yeah. Because it’s pretty.” He chuckled, finally easing back. “Was there no date, just you fucking me on a wall and making Kiyotaka drive me home?”

He chuckled. “Would you complain?”

“No… yeah no. As long as I get food.” He grinned down at you, hair soft and falling, making you brush it back tenderly.

“No silly. I have plans. But I wanted you to show up like this for… reasons.”

You smirked. “Reasons huh.”

“Oh yeah. Also I wanted to do something first. Come on." He finally eased off you, making you miss his cool hard body, but the house was nice and warm.

The interior of Gojo’s house was elegant and tasteful, with large light gray couches in the living room, a sleek bar with stools, and his kitchen was one that had always made you envy. Double oven and an island in the middle. You walk along the plush carpeting, soft light filtering through fancy crystal chandeliers, casting a warm glow over everything.

The fireplace was lit, something that made you instantly ease, crackling a soothing sound against the soft jazz music he had playing. Everything about Gojo and his home were elegant, ridiculously clean, but he had cleaners for that. But Gojo still kept things tidy, even at his office.

“Come here, pretty.” You walked to him, and he swept you in his arms, starting to dance with you, alone in the living room, and you struggled not to hide your face from emotions. “I wanted a little dancy dance.”

“I kinda love it.” You peeked into his gaze. “You're so much more romantic than I thought.” He spun you around, a little pink on his high cheekbones.

“I'm giving it a shot.” You smile tremulously, pressing closer to him, falling into each step.

“Aww, I feel special.”

“That pussy is.” He purred the words with a wink.

“Gojo!” You smack at him, but he yanks you hard, dipping you low over his arm, your hair touching the carpet below, before swinging you back up.

“You want me full on sappy already, fucking brat?”

You shook your head, moving against him, finding your rhythm. “No… just be you.”

He paused, then kissed you, softly, one of your hands entwined, the other on your waist. You sighed into his lips, falling deeper and deeper. “Mmm we'll never get there if I keep kissing you.”

“Get where?”

“You'll see.”

You and Gojo were hand in hand as you went up the elevator to the restaurant Gojo had surprised you with, and you had only heard of it before, unlike any other in Japan. It was nestled in the heart of Tokyo, amidst the bustling cityscape of neon lights and endless high-rises, and it was up on the top of a high rise itself, one of the tallest, with rooftop seating.

As you approached, you could already smell the tantalizing aroma of fresh sushi wafting through the air, mingling with warm sake and incense. The moment you all stepped upstairs to the top, you were enveloped in an atmosphere of serenity as the evening sky and all of the lights of the city were just below you, gentle breeze blowing your hair around.

“What ya think?” Gojo asked, so casually, as you all were led by a hostess to a pretty little table by the balcony, with the perfect view of the lit up city under twinkling stars. You sigh happily, smiling up at him.

“It’s breathtaking. Really.” The chatter amongst the people also there intermingled with the light pop music playing as you were seated. The table itself was gorgeous, a single red rose rested delicately in a crystal vase, and a crisp white linen cloth draped over the table.

“Good I’m glad. It’s my favorite place.” He pulled out your seat, which was cushioned by a plump, red pillow. “My lady.” He purred, you giggled, scooching in, and he yanked the chair from across from you, sitting it next to you. The hostess watched on with envy, clear and stark on her face, as Gojo casually wrapped an arm around you over the back of your chair.

“Mr. Gojo, it’s always good to see you.” She said softly, leaning forward and handing him a little folded paper. You smirked, as did he, grinning and popping it down next to one of the ringed napkins.

“You as well, Kinako. Can we get a bottle of white to start?” He smoothly commanded, and her cheeks heated. “That good with you baby girl?”

You could feel her glare, and Gojo seemed to enjoy the reaction, as if he’d said it to prove something. You grow flustered, and feel his blue gaze on you, eyes twinkling with mischief. “That sounds perfect, Satoru. Thank you.”

“Ahem. Of course, right away Mr. Gojo.” She rushed off, leaving you two snuggling against the breeze, a strong hand cupping your jaw.

“Aww you jealous?”

“I figure this is everywhere you go.” He wiggles his brows.

“The ladies do love me.” He kicks his feet up and you scowl, shoving them down off the table. “What?”

“That’s so rude! You can’t just put your feet on it!”

“I pay enough.” He scoffed with a shrug, then peeked at you. “You don’t have shit to worry about.”

You felt a tightness in your chest as he spoke those words. “I wasn’t worried, it just would be nice if women weren’t so mean when I’m with you is all. So are you gonna keep her number?”

He snorted at you, shaking his head. “No. Why, when you’re right here?”

You kiss him then, uncaring of anyone around you both. “I don’t expect that you know.”

“Yeah well.” He crumbled up the number and winked at you. “I mean that pussy is elite, so.”

“Stop it. You’re actually being really sweet tonight. Thank you.”

“Mmm, I have my moments.” He nipped your lower lip as the waitress came back with a bottle and two glasses, a chilled fancy dark green bottle you couldn’t pronounce. “Ah, thank you.”

“Of course, Mr. Gojo. Here’s the menu!” She handed him it, and didn’t bother to hand you one, which at this point just made you burst out laughing. The waitress glared, and soon Gojo was laughing too, attracting the attention around you both. The girl grew pink with embarrassment.

“Is it okay if I eat too?” You ask her, and she looked properly ashamed, as Gojo nudged you with his shoulder.

“She’s such a angry bitch when she doesn’t eat. So abusive! Ow!” You smacked his shoulder, and he feigned injury. “God, save me from her!”

“I… I… ahem. I can get another menu.” You and Gojo went back and forth like children.

“No no, I’ll order this evil bitch something. Please pray for me, Kinako!” He took her hand, and you watched her melt, as Gojo’s shoulders shook with laughter. You felt so good and just… fuck.

Gojo was something.

“It better be yummy.” You threaten, and Kinako’s eyes are wide as Gojo holds a hand to his chest.

“Oh gosh, the pressure! She ties me down and makes me watch finance specials, you know. This is my cry for help!” You let out a pig like snort, your hands on your face as you die laughing.

“I’ll give you a moment, Mr. Gojo.” As she runs off Gojo nearly dies laughing right along with you.

“Now she’ll really want you!”

“Nah. She’ll be scared of your wrath.” He is flush from laughing, white hair falling in front of his forehead, shadows flickering in the evening lights of the rooftop restaurant, lit by soft lighting all around.

“You don’t have to turn anyone down.” You look down as you speak, but he tilts your chin up.

“No interest to me.” He said simply. Your lips part and you feel the desire for him pulling at you, the soft spot for him blooming. “I mean I like my nun, you know.”

“Good, your nun likes you. Okay what are you getting?” You peek over at his menu, and he points to some fancy name you can barely decipher. “Fuck, too expensive everything. Like maybe a chicken dish for me?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m rich as fuck. Let me treat you, please.”

You sigh, and he explains things on the menu for you, pointing out what is what, you decide on a small dish and earn his glare. “What? It looks yummy?”

“I like a girl who eats.” You roll your eyes.

“I do eat… just don’t have that god metabolism you do.”

“Your body looks good as fuck. Don’t wanna lose that ass do you?” You feel your cheeks heat up as he teases you.

“Oh gosh. Fine. Maybe this one?”

“A little better.” He wrapped his long arm around you again so casually, and you liked it. A lot. “You're kind of like my girlfriend now, you know.” He was casual as he trailed his fingers down your shoulder.

Your eyes widened, goosebumps under the coat. “Wh-what?” He chuckled, tilting your head to his.

“I didn't ask you out, just saying.”

“You’re confusing.”

“If I wanted to, probably would do it while fucking, you say yes so easy then.” You breathed out a sigh, trembling under his touch, his energy around you intoxicating, making you nervous not being alone.

You gulp for some courage, sipping the delicious white wine then. “You think you’re that amazing huh?”

‘No, I know I am.” He pecked little kisses up your jawline, long fingers playing in your loose long hair. Your heart was going wild though you wouldn't show it.

“Maybe.” You concede, earning his shit eating grin.

“You got all excited. Do you want me to ask you out?”

“I…” You trail off when the waitress comes back, and for once you’re thankful for the interruption, your mind a jumbled mess. You'd expected maybe to be some kind of regular fuck with Gojo or something… and pathetically maybe, you'd take it. Because Lord that man was talented. But a girlfriend you hadn't thought would even be a thing. You’d wanted so badly to leave not long ago, but things had changed so much.

You missed him just one day without seeing him.

“I’ll have this, and this for the lady. Then we’ll have this for dessert together, and also this and this…” He pointed everything out as the girl wrote it all down on a notepad, smiling and bowing in her little blouse and vest.

“Right away Mr. Gojo.”

Gojo pours you another glass, and you sip it, tangy on your tongue, and then caught a drip on the corner of your mouth, wiping it gently with a thumb. You press a little kiss to it, enjoying the catch in his breath.

“It’s delicious. Thank you so much for tonight, Satoru.” You take his hand, kissing his knuckles, and Gojo lets out a little quiet moan, drinking in your body still stuck inside the overcoat. His hand catches your thigh, his thumb playing with the little garter, bending low towards you.

“Good I’m glad. I’m dying to see this.” He whispered, tickling your skin with his breath. “Torturing myself tonight.”

“Maybe it’s a little torutre for me too.”

“Is it? Fuck, You’re already so hot here.” He said softly, tauntingly, hand close to where you ached for his touch. “I love how easy you are for me.”

“I’m not easy…”

“ For me .”

You scowl, sticking out your tongue childishly. “Shut it.”

“Admit it, brat.”

“I’m not easy for you I just… I don’t know, fuck. I get… yeah… easy around you, ugh why do you annoy me like this?”

“You love me, don’t lie.”

You froze, tensing, hoping he would not push that one and was teasing like always. But thankfully, food came before either of you could say anything else. Gojo’s plates and bowls took up much of the table, and he looked like a kid eating cake on his birthday at this point. He started piecing out everything, making you a plate, making you smile with the care he showed.

“Try this!” Gojo popped a little delectable morsel into your mouth, truffle something or other, and your eyes close in pleasure.

“Mmm!”

“See, so good! And this!” He slid another bite of a shrimp of some kind, and you chew thoughtfully.

“Ooh it’s good too!”

Gojo’s eyes grew impossibly brighter, grinning. “See, and this!”

“Gojo you really love food.” He chuckled, popping food into his own mouth, making chewing look sexy somehow.

“I do indeed. Come on, keep that ass nice.” He winked and tried to put more food in your mouth, you chuckled and shook your head.

“Let me try my dish silly.” You start to cut up your meal, and fork a bite into his mouth now, which he takes as sensually as a human could.

“Ooh that’s good too!”

You fall into a comfortable silence as you both nibble, sharing bites and sipping on your glasses of wine as the breeze flows, scents of foods filling the air, and the scent of Gojo’s tantalizing cologne. It was easy to be with him, so easy it sort of boggled your mind, a mix of friendship and comfortability. Eventually you all finish and the waitress brings decadent desserts.

“Eat this! Try it, it's better than sex!”

You shook your head with a laugh, and he was forking something sweet between your lips, hand under your chin to catch any crumbs. He wiped the corner of your lips as you chewed, licking the finger. You chewed the delectable treat slowly, moaning as the chocolate melted against your tongue.

“Ooh, it is good. Oof!” He handed you another bite, so sweet and hot in your mouth. “Not better than sex though.”

He grinned wide, blue eyes narrowing. “I must be fucking amazing. Considering you hated sex just last week.”

You felt your cheeks heat, the lingerie rubbing against your skin making you ache in places as you thought of him in you. “You won’t hear any shit talking about that aspect of you. Just the other annoying shit.” You started nibbling on a piece of some berry cheesecake confection, he leaned in, opening his mouth. You give him a piece of it, popping it between his lips, and he licks your finger.

“You kinda felt like a virgin honestly.” He mused, softer voice so that it was just between you two, and you nearly choked, sipping on your wine, that had created a delectable head fuzz.

“You can be tight and have had lots of sexual experience. Doesn’t mean anything really.”

“No shit, I know that. I’ve played with a lot of pussies. But no, not what I meant. Like I broke something.”

“Gojo! The fuck! You’re so full of yourself that you think you broke me?” You whisper, and he shrugs, so full of himself that you realize this is still Gojo, as sweet as he’d been you’d gotten confused.

“Well, I just wonder if the boys never hit deep enough. Smaller than these, remember?” He wiggled his fingers at you.

“You’re ridiculous. I mean… I don’t know. If not, wouldn't it have hurt a ton with you then?”

“Didn’t it? At first.”

You paused. Shit. “But that’s because you’re huge.” You peer nervously, making sure you all are out of ear shot.

“Lots of women took this dick fine. You had some trouble. Granted, you are kind of petite there.”

“You probably just want me to have been a virgin so I complete your nun fucking fantasy.” You pointed a fork at him and he tried to look innocent.

“You really basically were. Never been eaten out, no blow jobs… do you even remember having sex with the small dick college dudes?”

You frown, sighing. “Not really no… As I said it was just twice and both times I was not sober, but bits and pieces. I know it happened. Condoms.”

“Ah…” He paused, then studied you. “We didn’t use one, hmm.”

You paused as well. “Huh. We didn’t. Well, I’m on birth control though, so we don’t have to… especially if you mean to be exclusive. If you don’t want to use them. Gojo is this the best place for this convo?”

He quit eating for a few, hand back on your thigh. “Sure it is. Fuck, the thought of you pregnant is kinda hot though. Maybe go off it.”

Your mouth opened in shock, then you felt yourself heat up, probably red as the jacket you wore, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Satoru! No, what the…”

“Mmm it is though.” His hand went to your tummy, splaying over it, leaned over you so close you were sure you two looked scandalous. But you craved his touch. “I wonder if I put enough cum in you if I can fuck through the birth control then?” His words were slow, deliberate, nearly a silent purr out of his lips and fuck… they did shit to you. A lot of shit.

“Jesus…” You feel your thighs shift, and he notices it, movements like a hawk. “Is this a kink thing again?”

He let out a low chuckle. “You could definitely say that. I think you may be a little interested in it by that response.”

You bite your lip against the thoughts that flow through your head, imagining him cumming in you, over and over, until… God you all were in public, what were you…

“Mind going wild?” He taunted you. You had no energy to lie, simply parting your lips a bit and sighing, as his hand pressed into your tummy, hot and firm. “Thinking of me filling you up here?” His lips caressed your temple as he bent low and murmured those dirty thoughts you shared.

You let out a little cry and then covered your mouth quickly, but he heard it, and the mood changed suddenly.

“Say it.” His hand pressed more, slipping under the coat you still wore deftly, thumb splaying down past your navel. “You could feel me here, couldn’t you?” You nod weakly. “Can’t use your words?”

“Mmm.” You cover your mouth once more, aching against the plush seat, unable to stop your reaction as friction started against your pussy. Gojo looks like he’s won the fucking lottery.

“Wanna go?” He asked, and you nodded.

You two asked the waitress for cases, and packed up food for later, you with trembling hands, and him with calm and sure ones, heading down the elevator until you were out in the night air, where Kiyotaka waited with the large black car. Gojo opens the door for you, and you two slide in the back seats, and it doesn���t take until the door is shut for him to start to unbutton your jacket.

Your head tilts back a bit, and he’s kissing your exposed neck, deft fingers undoing the buttons swiftly, until he opened it up fully and sat back, drinking your body in. His eyes grew hooded, full lips parted, his nostrils just slightly flaring before his hands eased the coat off your shoulders, just bunched up on your arms now, pooling behind you.

You were so beautiful, your lush breasts cupped by this lace, chains glittering against your smooth skin, exposed in little areas, concealed in others, enticing Gojo like nothing he had ever seen. You gaze up at him with desire in your eyes, your lower lip being bit by your teeth, brow just a little worried, as if you were nervous. But how could you be, when you were so perfect to him?

Gojo struggled to keep a steady touch, not to show how much you fucked him up mentally, what you did to him. You were his fantasy, and here you were, in something he’d dreamed of for a couple of years now. He got to watch you fall apart, show your true nature, embracing your desires, let go.

Even his dreams didn’t live up to you, however, his eyes were drinking every inch of your curves… sinful how good you look, soft, your skin silky, feelings written all over your face. You were leaving him wanting to kiss every inch… simultaneously driving him crazy as he pictured so many ways to have you.

Gojo was just sitting there, his eyes devouring you in your lingerie, not even touching you, and you shifted, pussy aching and insatiable for him, wanting some kind of friction. You craved his lips on you in the worst ways. Wanted more of that cock that had been inside of you only one time so far, but was now something you were desperate for again.

Big hands gripped your thighs, spreading them just a bit to see that you wore those crotchless panties, that your glistening pussy was bare to him. He groaned, then kissed you deeply, pushing you down into the back seat, tasting like the sweet treats he’d eaten and just… him. Gojo.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” He whispered, and instinctively you wanted to shake your head, but he held your face, hard. “Nuh uh. No denying it. Got me?”

You nod then. “Thank you, Satoru.” You say instead, and his lips join yours once more, hard long body pressing on top of you, making your hips arch up and wiggle for more contact. His finger is quick to find your glistening folds, swirling your wetness around your already throbbing clit. You cry out, but he drinks your cries, going in aching slow circles.

“Fuck. I wanna do this in my bed.” He mumbled, and you gave a little breathless laugh, kissing his neck, tasting the little saltiness of his sweat.

“I hope you did clean your sheets after snorting coke on Erica’s ass.”

“Pshh, I really didn’t fuck her. God you’re jealous and don’t even date me yet, another hint you want it?”

“Am not! And I…”

“The sheets are clean as fuck. But we’ll probably be ruining them.” He eased off you, closing the jacket up loosely. “We’ll be home soon.”

You all get into Gojo’s house and it’s mere seconds before your coat is gone, leaving you looking obscenely sexual in lace and chains. He rubs his large hands greedily down your body, leaving each area in a trail of goosebumps on your skin, until he hits the thigh high boots, raising a brow.

“Ooh, I really fucking like these.”

“Yeah?” You tease, hands on his shirt, unbuttoning them slowly, pop pop they went until a large sliver of his chest and abdomen revealed themselves. His smooth pale skin was taut over each muscle and groove.

“Yeah.” He bent down, a breath away from where you were exposed, unzipping your boots slowly. “Steady yourself on me.” You did as he said, holding on to his bare shoulders as he lifted each leg. There was something ridiculously sensual about Gojo taking off your shoes…

He pushed you gently, until you were against the wall, and raised one of your legs over his shoulder kissing up your thigh and peeking up at you with that breathtaking azure gaze. Your heart stopped, breathing erratic, hands shaky on his strong shoulders. “May I?”

“You don’t have to ask.” You watched his reaction to those words, and stared down as the tip of his tongue slid up your aching slit, eyes not leaving yours, making you even more sensitive. “Ah! Fuck…”

You cried out and Gojo slid his tongue up and down again, tasting you, before his thumbs parted your lips to open the area to your clit, and he was flicking his tongue, fast. You lean back on the wall with your head, eyes fluttering shut, and Gojo was worshiping you on his knees.

Your hips were shoving forward for more of his wicked tongue, that seemed to know you even better now. He knew the pressure he needed, the pace, it was insane and heady. As he shoved his tongue in further, humming on your clit as he sucked it into his mouth, you started screaming.

“Satoru! Unh… yes… I … ah!” You fell apart all over him, your mind and body shattering from pleasure, shivering as it flowed through you, and he was drinking your wetness more and more, riding out your orgasm with his moans.

He eases up, and has to hold you, for your knees did not even want to function, before kissing you, deeply. “You taste so fucking good, baby girl.”

“Mnh… th-thanks.” You can hardly speak. He grins against your lips, then snatches you up, your legs around his waist, and he’s walking you through the house, opening the door of his room deftly, laying you down on his black soft comforter. His bed is so soft you feel your tense body aching.

“I don’t even want to take this off of you, but I need these out.” He mused, and sighed as he did so, unsnapping off your bra with ease. He also slid off your panties, but he paused on the stockings. “Hmm. Let’s keep these on. And this.” He fingered your chain. You nod eagerly, making him laugh. “Can’t find words, baby girl?”

You gulp, licking your lips. “Orgasm brain, remember?”

“Is that all it is? Not the talk earlier about me fucking a baby into you at the restaurant?” He yanked on the chain you wore, pressing it into your soft skin.

You gasp then, eyes wide, and his are sparkling, glittery blue, fucking wicked demon that he literally was. Your mind whirls, your eyes darting away, before being brought back by a firm hand on your chin. The scent of Gojo is everywhere in this room, clean and woodsy and so fucking addictive. It fills you, as does his breath, his touch, those words.

You lick your lips, peeking up at him through lowered lashes. “I want you to fill me up, Satoru.”

That came out of your mouth?

His body tensed over you, he had his pants off, and he shoved into you in one hard thrust suddenly, shocking you, filling you to the brim. So different from his ease inch by inch yesterday, but God it felt deliciously good, that cock stretching the tight cunt of yours. So deep it was damn near in your tummy he spoke of.

Gojo lifted your legs up over his elbows, shoving deeper. You cry out loudly and he's holding your face with two hands then, pausing,and he is so deep it's insane to handle. Wriggling under him trying to relax your muscles, but your pussy just throbs around the invasion and stays tight. Gojos hair falls over his brow as he states down at you.

“You okay?” He asks it through gritted teeth. You nod, sighing as you hold on to his strong arms. Even being a little rougher he clearly cared for your comfort.

“Good. Good.” You haven't been able to speak sensible words most of the evening. That really wasn't like you but Gojo's cock was now in the equation. He smiles above you, and pulls out to shove back in.

“How flexible are you?” The question made you worry what was next, and before you could answer, he had your legs all the way up, pressing them hard against your body. “You'll take my cum better this way.”

Gojo began to pump, hard and fast, but not fully in thank God, the friction and rhythm way too much, making your already sensitive cunt hit its peak quickly, and then you're cumming all over his hardness. He hisses, easing back and pushing deeper as your body becomes lubricated from your release. You moan into inviting lips.

“You feel so-so-so good, Satoru. So… so… mmm.” You were feeling yourself start to fall apart again as he fucked you deeper, making you ache, his eyes glittering as they watched your every expression.

“You feel so fucking good wrapped around this cock. Is this what you wanted all day, baby?” You nod weakly, and soon he eased up on your legs just a bit, yanking your choker off, air hitting the bruise.

Your screams echo the room as he bites hard on already sore flesh, tearing into the bruise as he fucks and fucks you harder, the slaps of his skin against yours loud. His balls are smacking against your ass, his pelvis against yours as he sinks deeper. Your head lolls to the side, fingernails digging into his perfect skin, leaving marks. Your body is taut, tense, as you feel another peak start to rise.

“You cum so easy for me, don't you little brat?” He demanded above you, breath making your throat burn from the new bite. “Look at me.”

You turn your sore neck, and he's kissing you again, sloppy, tongues sliding against each other, his saliva dripping into your mouth. He is moaning his own pleasure into your lips. Gojo yanks your body, sliding it down so he becomes impossibly deeper, now going in and out with ease. The noise of your wetness mixes with the sensation of it dripping out of you and around him.

“Use your words. You want me to fuck a baby in here. Don't you.” His hand presses to your tummy, and he grins, white and devilish above you. “I can feel my dick fucking your guts up.”

“I want you to. Unh. Please please please.” You had no shame anymore, head falling back into the soft bed as he now was fucking the shit out of you, using your body to yank you further onto his cock.

“You're so hungry for this cum, are you?” You nod, gasping for breath then when he reaches a hand down and finds your puffy lips, your little clit, rough thumb rubbing. You begin to shatter, everything fading but Gojo. “Say. It.”

The thrusts became even more intense, your over sensitive clit being played as your insides were jumbled by his cock. You gasp for any sense of self, mind whirling, your body on fire, tensing, muscles taut, but everything is just him. Satoru.

“I am. Fuck! Ugh. I want your cum so deep in me.” Your words made him shut his eyes, forehead resting on yours for a moment, you could feel him shaking.

“Do you, fucking cum hungry slut? Want it all in this tight fucking pussy?” He growled the words, and you should've hated them, but God you loved it. You'd be his slut. Goddammit. Especially as he started hitting that spot so deep only he could find it in you, making you see stars.

“I want it. I need it. In me deep, please-please. Ah!” The play became too much and you started cumming once more, nails digging into his back as you hang on for dear life while he rails you through your orgasm, heightening it.

Gojo hisses as your cunt is pulsing around him now, his hand easing off your slickness, to press against the bed next to you, leaning up his body and altering the position inside of you, rubbing against your walls. “Milking me with that little cunt for all of this cum, aren’t you?”

You just nod, wordless, breathless, each stroke making you oversensitive now. “Please, Satoru, please.”

He groaned over you, slowing, fucking erratically now, so tense. “Want me to put a baby in you?” He hissed the words through his teeth, brow furrowed, eyes bright and mad. “Fucking breed you?”

“Yes yes yes. Put a baby in me. Yours. Mnh yes.” He fell apart over you, with shaky groans, rhythm jerky. His arms are digging into the soft backs of your thighs, and you could feel his hot cum shooting in your tight hole, so deep. You felt yourself coming when he pressed against your cervix, bottoming out, pushing the cum further in.

“Take it all. Every fucking drop.” He throbbed in you as you did around him, sucking in all his cum, which was leaking out of you as it mixed with your own. You relaxed your body, gasping for air, and he eased your sore legs down, pulling out, and you trembled, his cum sliding out of your pussy down your inner thigh.

“Fuck.” You sat up just a bit on your elbows, panting heavily, and then he pulled off to look down at the mess he'd made, smiling like the devil.

“You took me so good, little nun.” He shocked you, playing with his cum that had fallen and shoving it back into you, hurting sensitive flesh with long fingers. His gaze was wild, and it intimidated you then, so powerful and fucking insane, eyes all dilated. “Don't waste all this cum, now sweetheart, take it all.”

“Satoru… I… I can’t…”

“All of it. Like a good girl.” Gojo shoved in more, and you felt tears prick your eyes, overstimulation taking hold from coming so hard so much. “Aww, you're so pretty crying and dripping with my cum.”

“Ugh. Fuck you, jerk.” He laughed, easing off you then just to lick on your sore neck, torturous. You hissed. “Fucking vampire!”

“You can run that mouth again, should I fill you up with more cum until you can't fucking speak?” You moaned, and he kissed down your breasts. “You are already so eager for more. My nun is becoming my little slut.”

“Can't… cant…. hurts. Too much, too much.” You shook when he sucked on one of your nipples, fingers shoving into you one more time, making you cry.

“Giving up, are we? Tsk tsk. Fine. I love looking at you like this, though.” Gojo shoved those long fingers into your mouth then, and you were sucking both of your come off them, tasting both of you, so deep it made your tears flow out more down your cheeks, pleasure, overwhelming, pain, so consumed. “So pretty, baby.”

You felt hot sticky tears fall to your lips, salty tasting along with the come, and you saw him gaze down as if he owned you. Maybe he did. Your brain didn't work anymore, as if his cock had truly scrambled it.

“Satoru… I…”

He finally slid off you, laughing at you now. “You're such a mess. Poor baby girl is in tears. Can't talk again? Did I fuck your smart little head up.” He kissed your forehead sweetly, a complete contradiction to his words.

“Ugh. Never mind. You're such a dick!” He laughed again, pulling you against him and hugging you.

“Now I have to know. What were you gonna say?”

“Fuck it, no.” You felt him wiping tears away, frowning now. He touched your chin gently.

“Hey, was all that too much?” His words were soft now, deep voice so caring it couldn't match a moment ago, caressing your face. “If you ever don’t like anything just tell me.”

“No, I liked it. A lot. Asshole.” He sighed a bit, as if relieved. “I just really am… I really… l…”

“Really love my dick?”

“Stop cutting me off!” He put a hand to his mouth trying to appear innocent. “Conceited ass.” You roll your eyes. “I… ugh I guess I just feel a lot for you.” You looked away, so embarrassed. He would probably taunt you, tease you…

“Yeah, same.” Your eyes met his in shock. He was on one arm studying you very seriously.

“Yeah?” You whisper, and he nods just a bit, tense himself.

“Yeah… although that's been a kink of mine, I've never fully acted on it.” Gojo's cheeks dusted with pink.

“Oh?” He nodded.

“I guess no one has made me want to put a baby in them so bad. Drove me a little crazy there for a bit.” His half cooked smile was sort of shy, a side you never saw of him.

“I drove you crazy hmm?” He nods. You feel way too warm inside at the thought. “Sometimes, you're really sweet, you know.” You caress his soft skin on his face, kissing his forehead. He closes his eyes with a sigh.

“I feel… Things too. Shit, this isn't normal even for good sex. The connection is… I…” Your heart thudded, body weak to fight anything, mind askew. He cleared his throat then, smirking. “You didn't even try to deny any of it tonight, no fight left huh. Just please Satoru, please!”

You scowl and smack him hard, he grabs your wrist with his wicked grin. “I can't tell if I like, love, or hate you at any given fucking moment. Ugh! You're so annoying! I’ll show you fight!”

He was laughing softer now, pulling you against his chest, warm against your face. “I kind of know the feeling, you're such a bitch. Then sometimes you’re my sweet, little cum hungry brat. Ah ah no more hitting. Or I'll smack the fuck out of this.”

His hand gripped your pussy and you squeaked. “No no no.”

“We will have to get working on that stamina of yours, little virgin nun.” You scowl up at him. “I’d like to fuck more than once in a day but no ‘I hurt Satoru, no no!’”

“Hate it is.” He grinned against your hair, snuggling you. “I took it way better this time, I am not a nun.”

“Fuck yes you did.” Another kiss. Another fall deeper into love you went for this shithead. Fucking Gojo. “Let me take care of you… That was a lot, hmm?” You nod shyly into his chest. “Want a bath?”

You moan. “Ooh yes please. I haven't had one in forever. Just have the stand up shower.” It sounds heavenly 

“I'll get you one started. And some ice for that neck.” He kisses you once more, hopping off the bed. “Be right back.”

You finally peek around the bedroom, breathing in and out a bit, your entire body was aching from his touches, from his cock, his hands… his teeth. You hiss in pain when you touch it, hearing the water running from the bathroom. His room is all in blacks and dark blues, elegant modern furniture, nothing too extravagant, but still looked sleek and expensive.

The bed you’d been positively railed on was a dark wood four post bed, high, thick and plush. So comfy your body wanted to just fall asleep in it. Your fingers ran over the cover, soft under your palms. Gojo came back, stark naked, and you felt yourself hurt from how gorgeous he really was, every inch of him so chiseled.

“You’re so…”

“Perfect?” He wiggles his brows, batting his spiky lashes. You shake your head at him as he sits next to you.

“Yeah.”

His eyes widened. “Really? Not a conceited shit?”

“That too.”

“Mmm, there’s my girl. I like how mean you are.” He gently kissed your neck where he’d been annihilating you over and over. You shiver, then he brought a cool little napkin against it. You moan.

“Oof, that feels good.” The cool ice feels so good you lean into it. He hands it to you, and you press it against your neck, as his fingers go down to your chain, gently unclasping it and then working on your garters. He peppered little kisses down your legs as he did so. “A girl could get used to this.” You mused.

“You’re awfully lucky. I’m Gojo Satoru and here I am, at your feet all the time.” He kissed your ankle then. You flush. “Blushing all over.”

“I do like you on your knees.”

“Oh fuck, dom much?” You shook your head, biting your lip, sitting there completely naked in front of him.

“Dom… Dominant?”

“That’s it. Look at you learning.” A fingertip taps the tip of your nose super condescendingly.

“You kinda are a dom though? Right?”

“I am. But I’d switch it up if you wanted.” He stood, and pulled you up.

“Me dominate you?” It was hard to imagine. He grinned.

“It’s not my thing really, but then again, I love when you’re so mean. Maybe I’d try it once. Let you fuck your frustrations on me.” Heat pooled embarrassingly in your lower tummy all over again.

“I should try on top some time though, yeah?” You ask, a little nervous for some reason. “What if I suck up there, though?”

He chuckled, bending down and popping a kiss on your head. “You won’t suck at all. We’ll try it next. Come on.”

Gojo guided you to his bathroom, which was bigger than your own bedroom, easy. Gorgeous tile, cream marble, an enclosed glass shower on the left and a giant claw tub on the right, pretty granite counters with two sinks and a lit mirror. The tub was filled with bubbles, and he bent down to shut the water off.

“It’s beautiful here. I haven’t ever seen your bathroom. Weird.”

“Come get in, princess.” He held out a hand, and you took it, easing your aching body into the tub. You suck in a breath as the hot soapy water hits you, sitting and sinking in, sighing, leaning your head back in bliss. “Never thought I’d have you in my tub.”

“Never thought I’d be in it.”

“You like?”

“Very much so. Thank you.” You peek up at him, and he is studying you, gently running his hand against your hair.

“Want me to wash your hair again?” You nod, shyly. “You’re so shy about silly things but I push cum in you and you’re good.”

“I’m just… in the moment I guess. Get in here.” You tug on his hand.

“I was gonna pamper you. From here.”

“Mmm, no, get in.” He sighs with a grin, standing, cock still huge even though it was not hard at full force at the moment. He comes to sit behind you, water rising, fragrant bubbles brushing over your breasts, his hard body against you. He eases your back against his chest, kissing your cheek.

“Such a demanding brat all the time.”

“Maybe I am.” You sigh in bliss, the water gently waving as he adjusted against you, growing hard again, you between his thighs. “Yep I love this.”

“Good.” He turned your face towards his with his hand, bringing your lips together, a hand trailing errantly up and around the peak of your breast. Both came to cup them, then, and you let out a little whimper. “How’s that stamina tonight, champ?” He teased your nipples with his deft fingers then, gently twisting them a bit, eliciting a gasp.

“You so doubt me, huh?”

You turned, thighs on either side of his lap now, bringing your pussy against his hard cock, your hands on his chest. He groaned, blue eyes sultry as they studied you, hands on your hips. You lean down and take his cock in your hand, placing it at your entrance, and his eyes flutter shut for a moment, cheeks puffing as he exhales, making you feel bold.

“Fuck you’re hot.” He murmured, pulling you against him, water splashing against you two, his thick tip stretching your puffy lips apart, making you tremble when it slid into your entrance just a bit. He halted you. “Hey, hey, let me work her up.”

“I can take it.” He raised a brow with a smirk, and you ease down on him, inch by inch, going up a bit to ease down more every time. Gojo’s jaw clenched, his grip tightened, two little lines between his brows.

He cried your name out when you sat down on him fully, and hearing it moaned from his lips was nearly your undoing. You shake as you hold on to him, fully sheathed in you, stretching tight aching muscles in your pussy. You shift a bit, and he hits something inside, and then you’re rolling your hips, hitting it again and again, starting to come already.

“Fuck, baby girl. Mmm.” He guided your hips, and you were thankful, so clueless up there on top of this beautiful person. His white hair was dripping wet in places, lips glistening from your kisses. You fumbled a bit, unsure of what to do, as if reading you, he pressed up against your cervix, making you throb, wetness and heat inside of you and around you.

“Like this?” You ask hesitantly, sliding up and then back down at an angle, he gripped hard, nodding.

“Do what feels good.” He took a peak of your breast into his mouth, sucking gently, and you began to listen to your body, to the sensations, riding him in the tub, both of you quickly finding pleasure heightened between you. Your legs start to ache, and then he picked you up and started fucking you.

“Mmm, I can do it.” You pout and he smirks under you, water sloshing all over your bodies.

“Let me use you like my little fuck doll. Yeah?” His words hit you hard.

“Yeah.” You managed to whisper, and soon he was using you just like one, making you come hard as he used your body to pound up into, and he continued on, until you both were drowning in your desire.

You were drying your hair with a fluffy blue towel, wearing one of Gojo’s super expensive dress shirts and nothing else, peeking over at him as he slid on a pair of black boxers and a soft gray tee shirt.

“So, would I ever be able to snort coke off your perfect tits? Hypothetically.” You started laughing at the random question. “Or ass maybe.”

“Nah I’m not Erica.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fuck off with that. I literally got drunk and high and just bitched about you leaving the whole time.”

“Aww, that’s actually cute. Kind of. Minus the snorting coke off her ass thing.” You pecked his lips then, and he exhaled, pulling you against him. “I don't like that shit.”

“I know. Haven't even done any since… since whatever the fuck we’ve been all week.”

You smile at that. What were you two? “It’s not my place to say not to, we’re like not together officially, are we?”

He frowned. “What do you call this then?”

“I don’t know… what do you call it?” He kissed you gently.

“Let’s start with this. You’re mine. Okay?” You tremble at his words. All you can do is nod. He groans, inhaling your scent and bending low over you. “You look so hot in my shirt.”

“It’s so comfy too!” You do a little shimmy and he chuckles, kissing you deeper and deeper. “Let's go to bed. We have to work tomorrow and shit.”

“Ugh fuck work.”

“We can work on the speech tomorrow night after?”

“You just want more of my dick, little slut.” You shove at him and he tackles you down to the bed. “I will try not to do much coke then, if it upsets you, by the way.”

You brush his hair back, soft from your bath, silky, studying him. “It does but like I said it’s not my place. I know it’s not like something you do in excess. Maybe I am the uptight stuck up bitch.”

“Oh you definitely are. One day I'll snort a line off you.”

“Oh fuck no you won’t.”

“So boring.”

“Boring? I just rode you in your bath, fucker.” You glare up at him. He sighs, pecking little kisses all over you.

“It was fucking amazing.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm. Sleep, huh? Also boring.” He pouted and rolled his eyes. You shook your head and giggled.

“I’m sleepy, Satoru. You’re the best snuggler aren’t you?”

He preened at that like a peacock. “Fucking bet I am.”

“Then let’s cuddle.” Gojo slid under the covers with you, asking his device to turn off the lights, and you were in his arms. You ached to just tell him how you felt, but you were terrified to ruin shit before it started. Gojo kisses your head, gently wrapping an arm around you, spooning you. You felt so safe in his arms.

“Satoru?”

“Mmhmm?”

“Thank you for the date. It was perfect.” You could feel his smile against you then, as he pulled you tighter, the sounds only the clicking of the clock, the crickets outside and the two of you breathing.

“Even though the waitress was so dick hungry?”

You sighed. “I can’t blame her. You’re pretty hot, you know.”

“I do.” You felt him pull you tighter. “But you’re mine. So I’m yours. You could fist fight a bitch I bet.”

Yours. Mine. The words echo in your mind.

“Oh my god! No, I will not even.”

“So boring.”

“Shut it. Just kiss me goodnight.”

Gojo leaned over, and you saw his bright eyes even in the dark room, with the moonlight streaming throughout the thick black curtains of his room illuminating them. He kissed you softly, but firmly, impossibly igniting more desire and more feelings with every breath, before kissing your head and letting you turn back around against him.

You were pretty fucked.

How would work go?

Would he rail you on his desk?

Shit.

“Sweet dreams, baby girl.” He said with another kiss on your head, brushing your hair back gently. You kissed the hand that was playing with your hair, holding on to his arms that wrapped you tight.

“Sweet dreams, Satoru.”

Chapter 9

Ao3 Chap:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55424137/chapters/141807505

[whalesforhands]

what’s yours is mine (7/?)

previous masterlist next

pairing: geto suguru x reader x gojo satoru

You don’t know a lot of things, and you readily admit that. What you do know, is that the friends you’ve made aren’t something you will ever regret. Until your physical body weakens and becomes nothing, you’re more than happy to give your all until you wither away.

What’s yours can be theirs, too. They’re your friends, after-all. (Omegaverse AU)

“You’re not going to get any better if you don’t lie down.”

Yet you don’t listen, only clinging harder onto your Mama and pressing your face into her thigh from behind, helplessly balling her clothes into your fists as she watches the stove that had yet to be turned on.

Where a pot of uncooked rice porridge still sat atop, cold and unappetizing; totally unfit for a sick child such as you.

It was a curse that you swore had beset you on this unlucky day as you woke up groggy and sapped of your energy, stumbling over your blanket with shortened breaths as you tried to get to the bathroom.

You’re sure of it. An evil villain had blackened your soul, diminished your health and withered your spirit— All because you were a hero. That’s why Mama came upstairs only to find your half-dressed self face-planted onto the futon, your body trembling and clearly struggling to dress yourself without her as your eyes went teary from stress and the resentment of your weakened limbs.

“M-Mama…” Your voice is weak, strained and clearly upset as it tips over into a sob as you’re scooped up into her arms, her forehead pressed against yours in hurried moves as her much cooler hands hold your limp body.

You’re burning up.

“Honey, I think you’re sick.” It’s in a quiet coo, a soft trill to her tone in attempts to hush the beginnings of you throwing a fit.

“I-I’m n-not sick…!” You denied, hands curled into weak fists to throw a miniature, and very fatigue-ridden tantrum as your eyes tear up, bottom lip trembling as you try your best not to cry.

And Mama knows that you’re not the type to deny yourself from such things. Not the type of good child that would decline being babied and fawned over by her within any given circumstance. But she gets it, gets you.

It’s the day of the sports festival after all.

At the ripe young age of 8, sports has always been a defining point in popularity and the general likability of an individual in their class. A time for kids such as yourself to build repertoire, to build a reputation for themselves. A way to be labelled as ‘someone’.

Simply put, it was your opportunity to make friends without actually ‘making friends’. A, in your opinion, relatively smart way of flouting Satoru’s promise and Suguru’s disapproving gaze.

(Even if it made you sad to make them sad…)

So you chose to take part in the relay race, the one team based event that you think you could not possibly be bad at, your hand raised high into the air and eyes sparkling with a determination that made you believe that there was definitely a victory in sight when your teacher called for volunteers.

It went against your yearly choice of being on the cheer team, but you think change can be a good thing.

(Heroes always talk about it in anime.)

That’s why. That’s why your face was burning hot with the passion that was meant to be exerted upon the relay race, the tears leaking out of your eyes and soaking into your Mama’s skirt meant to be ones that would taste like victory when you brought great honour and glory to Class 3B.

It just wasn’t meant to be.

This is definitely the world’s revenge for making your friends upset. Heroes definitely do not have it easy, even if you did single-handedly save Satoru’s playground.

You can’t even eat the super delicious character bento that your Mama had stayed up late last night to make you as your bottom lip wobbles, frustration running high and your hands balling up the fabric of her skirt as you try your absolute hardest to make the swell in your throat go down.

You don’t want to cry. You’re strong. You’re capable. That’s why you’re a hero. That’s why you can’t let the villain who cursed you win.

And when a hand is gently rubbing your head from above alongside the sound of a pot clattering closed; it was enough to make the dam that you had so desperately tried to keep closed burst open.

“It’s okay to be sad.”

She knows how much you trained for this day. How much you let her smear sunscreen all over your face, whining and letting her pat your cheeks as you slip your feet into velcro sneakers, waving her goodbye with your waterbottle tucked underneath your armpit and a hanky in your pocket.

“Satoru said he’ll help me train.” Your look of determination barely falters as you smile up at her. “So I’m gonna work really, really hard.”

Gojo Satoru. The anchor of your class, the star boy who effortlessly gets the best grades despite sleeping through most of the lessons, and the one unanimously decided by the majority that he is the running last because that was just how fast he was. Don’t get yourself wrong, Suguru was fast. And really smart too.

But Gojo Satoru was just too exceptional even for the above average.

So that’s why you’re out here, an empty plastic cup in your hands acting as the ‘baton’ and Suguru waving a palm in front of your face to break you out of your daydreaming trance.

“You sure you wanna train when it’s so hot out?” His brows are furrowed and his lips are downturned into a frown. “Satoru and I don’t mind, but you don’t really like playing outside.”

Other than the playground anyway.

“Mmhm.” A nod of your head and the clenching of your fingers around the replacement baton as your own eyes hued with a fiery resolve met his worried purple. “I gotta do it.”

You’ll do it for glory. For the future where you’ll be as highly revered as your friends, for the classmates to even possibly think that you were the slightest bit cool.

“You’ll help, right?” Your smile is innocent and far too happy, the giddiness on the cheeks that were too cute for him to say anything else.

“…okay.” Anything for you.

This was your hero training arc.

“And Suguru’s gonna be passing to you from that tree, and you’ll pass to me! So we’re gonna practice that by running up and down this path I made Kimi-chan mark out!”

“Seriously? Where’d ya even get them?”

“I made Kimi-chan buy them, duh.”

That sounds easy enough, right? The cones that had been laid out practically beckon you as your ears no longer pick up on the chatter between your 2 friends, a giddy excitement in your stomach as you clench your fists with blazing resolve.

Well, some things are easier said than done.

A fall.

“(name)-sama, are you okay?!” Hands hurriedly pulling you back up to your feet as fingers fumble over your knees. “That was quite a bad fall…!”

Another stumble.

“I’ll run faster so that you have more time to pass to Satoru, okay?” His words are only slightly chopped, slightly winded from the multiple laps that he had gone as his hanky presses against your scratched knee.

An unprecedented tripping over your own feet. Or was it the air…?

“W-What? Ya were so close that time! How’d ya even fall?!” Gojo Satoru is the one who catches you this time, having hurriedly trying to break your fall having noticed the slightest odd bend in your ankles.

“Kimi-chan! How long did that take?!” He pants, wiping the sweat off his brow as the baton sticks to his slick hand, snowy hair sticking to his forehead as Suguru fans himself under the shade of the tree you were all taking refuge under, letting you catch your breath by leaning against him.

Said caretaker looks up from where she was icing your bruises, hands moving swiftly to take another look at the timer. “Exactly 2 minutes and 38 seconds, Young Master.”

“Ehhh? That’s so slow!”

And while you don’t cry a lot, but it doesn’t mean that you never will. It doesn’t mean that you don’t feel frustrated at the fact that you ran so much every single day after school, panting and feeling the heat of the sun on your hands, the sticky feeling of your clothes on your skin as you try not to feel faint. Try to get your bearings back every single time the boys practically ran laps around you.

Training is difficult. And it’s even more difficult to have to come to terms with what was now out of your reach.

“There’s always next year,” Her hand pats your back as her voice is barely above a whisper, gently wiping your tears as you feel her hand upon your chin, gingerly making you release your jaw so that you won’t bite down on your lips.

“What you worked hard for won’t disappear just like that.”

So that you won’t be so hard on yourself either.

“B-but I can’t—“ Can’t do anything even if you worked so hard for it. It’s become useless all on its own, even when you had so clearly forced down more vegetables these days in preparation, gulping down lots and lots of water to aid in the healthiness power up.

“What you can do now is do your best to cheer for your friends, okay? Then your effort won’t go to waste if you cheer really, really hard for them.” Your sight is blurry as you blink through your tears, staring up at the soft expression of your Mama’s face, the fever patch on your head making you start to feel faint.

“You’re really good at cheering too.” Not to brag or anything, but your Mama is definitely right. But you think your running is definitely and hopefully much better.

But that’s the only thing you can do for them now. A second chance, a gleaming, glowing chance that paves way to make up for the fact that you couldn’t win together with them.

So you accept it.

“Okay…” Even if you can’t see them, even if you can’t even cheer for them physically like you did in the previous years. But you’ll pray, pray really really hard in your head that they will win, that they would be the ones to bring the glory that you couldn’t.

You really hope it goes well. You really, really, really hope so as your chin rests on your Mama’s shoulder, your legs wrapped around her waist and her hand patting your back as she carries you up the stairs.

You do wonder how they’re doing up to now, though. Hopefully… Winning?

“No!” A cross of his arms and a huff of annoyance. “No way am I gonna receive from some nobody!” A decisive stamp of his foot into the dirt below, his back turned onto the only other person here that would even dare to go this close to him, especially when he’s kicking up a dust cloud alongside throwing yet another tantrum.

“You’re being too much, Satoru.” He sighs with a palm pressed to his forehead, his hair now shorter than ever so as to comply with school regulations as he watches his stubborn friend.

At least it won’t get in his face when he’s doing sports. Much unlike the fuming Gojo Satoru in front of him.

“Oi Suguru! How could ya let that hag tell us what to do?!”

And Geto Suguru feels like his head was going to split open. “Our homeroom teacher only suggested that we get a replacement because we’re short of one.”

At least, that’s what he’s been trying to get across for the past 10 minutes.

“We don’t need anybody replacin’ her!” Another stomp onto the ground as the blue-eyed boy pouts even harder, making a pebble launch off the ground and rocket towards the concrete wall to ricochet with a force full of repulsed impatience. “They’re gonna be stupider than her for getting sick t’day!”

“Then our class would be a person short, Satoru. And don’t call people stupid.” Because you’d probably be the one to make that comment right about now. Not that it matters, even if it came from the noiret who even tried to dissuade him with words that you’d probably say—

All for naught. Even if they mimicked the way you spoke, it just doesn’t have the same effect. So Geto Suguru had decided to just give up entirely to be the crass, straight to the point self that scratched at the nerves of the neighbourhood Gojo.

(And it looked like Satoru liked this version of him better, anyway.)

It doesn’t make logical sense to skip out on manpower. Not at all, especially when they’re in this specific category looking for a win. Yet, Suguru gets it as his nose scrunches and his brows furrow. He gets why the boy is so adamant on your position not getting swiped from underneath their noses.

(He won’t admit it though. If he does it first, it means Satoru wins.)

“It’s not like you can stop being sick all of a sudden.”

You worked so hard, after all. You would never be the type to lie to skip out on this. You’re just… Unlucky. Or was it their fault for making you play in those rain puddles…?

(“It’s not fair! I even made my maids pack extra special Digimon bentos to eat t’day!”

“Eat them yourself then—“

“No!”)

Alas, he still has to deal with the spoiled prince whom even the teachers seem too scared to make him upset. Seriously, what is up with everyone and the Gojo family?

“Then you just gotta run faster!” A poke of a proud finger into the young boy’s chest, a purposeful prod that was barely teetering on a threat as those shiny blue hues were ignited by a flare of indignation.

A glare that commanded Suguru’s obedience and compliance as those angry cheeks puff up even more.

Suguru would like to deny it, but you’re right when you say that this spoiled, stubborn, annoying boy was c—

“I don’t wanna receive from anybody else!” A click of his tongue as his shoe kicks at the dirt below him, and a smack against the black-haired boy’s shoulder as flabbergasted amethyst clashes against unrelenting sapphire.

“And we’re gonna win, no matter what. So don’t drag us down or I won’t forgive you!”

Good god, he was so difficult to deal with. Not that this was anything out of the ordinary for Geto Suguru, though.

A sigh, and childlike hands that clasped their together into a determined handshake, fingers squeezing into a promise just as the blare of the loudspeaker comes on to announce the start of their event.

“Say that to yourself first, Satoru.” A tightening of their hands as the ‘handshake’ gets ever tighter with their growing adrenaline. “I won’t forgive you either if you lose to the rest of them.”

(“Also, can’t ya eat your bentos yourself? My mama packed me one too with cold soba—“ He immediately shuts up when he spots the angry pout on his friend’s face, red cheeks and fuming anger that threatened to have steam blow out his ears.

And the— Sight of eyes that looked like they were gonna… Cry?

Oh.

“…let’s save some for (name) when we eat them later.”)

——

“Dear,” A cool hand pushes your hair back as you groggily blink awake, tummy still warm from porridge and forehead feeling slightly damp from the soft, moist cloth against your heated skin. “Are you feeling better?”

“Mn…” You think your body is starting to feel less heavy, less burdensome on your bones as you let out a groan, small hand reaching out for the glass of water that looked like it was floating in front of you.

Magic glasses of water taste the best. You would know since you had a couple today. At least… You think it’s magic. It is, right? That’s why they always fly around and looked like there was always more than one surrounding you.

“Geto-san came over with some soup when she heard you were sick.” She’s gently smoothing down your hair as you start to perk up, shifting slightly so as to be able to sit up properly against your Mama’s arm supporting you against your back.

“You can eat it later, okay?”

You hope you have strength to go over and thank her later, though… Do you have to give her something as thanks too? It must be hard, having to make a soup that would help cure the curse upon your body…

Mama stops momentarily as she watches you from above, humming slightly when you finally down the rest of your glass and let out a little sigh, fully going lax against your Mama’s cooler to the touch body as you cuddle up against her.

She should take more off days to stay together with you more—

“Oh, and your friends. They came over to visit as well.”

And that has you whipping around to face your Mama, the sudden movement making your stiff neck cramp slightly from how long you laid down.

But it doesn’t matter. The pain won’t stop you. Won’t stop the racing thoughts you had through your head that mostly overpowered the soreness of your neck.

Was the sports event already over? Did they win? Did they lose— No. Wait. That’s impossible. Your friends could never, would never lose. Oh, but what if there was a possible chance there was? Even if heroes suffered a little bit sometimes the villain could still win—

“But I couldn’t let them in.”

“(name)’s mama! Is she awake yet?” This was probably the third time they had knocked against the front door, hands on his hips and blue eyes staring up at the all too patient woman.

“Satoru— My mama said we have to wait.” Purple eyes blink up at her apologetically. “Sorry, (name)‘s mama, we can wait a while longer—“

“But it’s been like— Too long, Suguru! How much longer until she wakes up???”

Oh. That sucks. You visibly deflate, a whimper escaping you as your shoulders slump into defeat. You can’t even talk to them or else you’ll pass your dirty, cursed germs to them…

“Nothing a call can’t fix,” She uses a soft handkerchief to wipe any remnant moisture, petting your head as her eyes briefly meet the drawn curtains of your shared bedroom.

“And I might… Have a better idea.”

Excited waves from the window, shimmers of gold against reflective glass and your widening eyes as the summer breeze flutters the curtains and ruffles through your hair.

It’s windier than you thought, with the sun in your eyes and the cicadas singing in this heat.

(Or was it because you just spent most of the day sleeping?)

“Look! I won the medals for us!” Half his body was practically hanging off of the window ledge, hands holding all 3 shiny medals as his lower half was held back only by the more responsible friend clinging onto Satoru’s waist and pulling with all the might an 8 year old might have.

“Satoru! Don’t lean over the window— And we won those together!”

A haughty huff.

“Ya, but you didn’t cross the finish line, did ya? I did! But look, look! We got your medal too!”

(“You’re so annoying!”

“Blehhhh!” A stick out of his tongue as excited blue kept jumping in place despite the dangerous position he put himself in. “Kimi-chan’s already down there to catch me just in case, anyway!”)

Golden and shiny and everything that encompassed a winner. It shone so brightly even when competing against the late afternoon sunshine, stood out even when held

Winners. They’re winners.

But if you think about it all on your lonesome, looking upon those shiny medals and standing by your window with your futon wrapped around your form…

There’s something odd about this empty feeling inside of you. Something that lingers in the same sense disappointment would, swirling around you and making you feel… Bad.

Why? You’re happy that your class won, happy that they managed to win the glory you’ve been going on and on about in your head. They’re winners, beat out all the other people who trained hard for this event as well. What is this disgusting feeling of secretly hoping that they lost?

So why? Why is it that you feel this way even as they smile so proudly at you, proclaiming that they’ll personally hang the medal around your neck when you get better so that they can dub you a winner too—

“See? Ya didn’t have to worry about us at all, (name)!” His sparkling blue eyes close to form a matching grin with Suguru who was too busy smiling at you despite your sick state, eyes too busy to notice Gojo Satoru smacking his shoulder when they’re stuck staring at you.

“You’re getting better, right? Your Mama said that you slept a lot. We can talk more with our telephone when Satoru’s gone cause he’s annoying.”

“Hey! I want a string telephone connecting to all your houses too!”

“You live too far. So it’s only mine and (name)’s.”

Ah. You think you get it now. Understand why you feel this way as your hand gingerly presses against your hot cheek and sliding up to your eyes to feel the wetness that was starting to form.

When did you—?

It has your friends doing a double take.

“(name)… Are you crying?” Please don’t cry.

“I-I think she’s just happy that we won! Right, (name)?” Please don’t cry. Not right now.

Because you realize these weren’t tears of happiness, after all. It was the realization that— Despite all your training, despite all the effort you put in to help them, help this class…

They didn’t need you to win after all.

“…yea! Good job!” Your smile feels too unlike any that you’ve ever given, all stretched awkwardly and like it didn’t belong.

This wasn’t you. You know it so, since this is your own self you’re talking about.

You’ve definitely been cursed.

——

And so, it wasn’t long after that you finally recovered, finally able to properly get onto your feet. Finally able to get dressed without your Mama's help, finally able to pick up your backpack without faceplanting onto the ground... All that healing food did wonders.

("You're so happy today, Satoru." You can't help but smile at the boy holding hands with both yourself and your black-haired friend as all 3 of you sat in his car, listlessly listening to the radio together as he sat directly in between the both of you, tips of his ears red as he tries to act... Cool.

"Oh? Satoru, what's with that face?" A smug smile and upturned purple eyes. "Don't tell me it's because you missed-"

"Shut up, Weird Bangs!")

So imagine your surprise when your teacher beckons someone in from outside your classroom door, the entrance sliding open and the taps of an unfamiliar pair of shiny, brand new indoor shoes against the floors of this familiar classroom.

A new kid. One that had a pretty mole by her eye and her prettier name written so neatly upon the blackboard in such neat chalk lines that you just can’t help but feel envious.

“Ieiri Shoko. Please take care of me.” With only the slightest bow as she stares ahead blankly, eyes avoiding the whispers of your already chattering class.

It must be scary, right? To have to stand there and do that… You don’t think you want to be in her position right now.

“Do you think she’s scared?” It’s a thoughtless whisper to the only other person who could possibly hear right now, your own gaze meeting familiar purple.

“Maybe.” He’s dismissive, as if he didn’t care too much as he takes out his pencil case. “I brought the colour pencils you wanted to see, by the way.”

Ohh—! You’ve been wanting to—

“She looks boring.” His crass huff from your other occupied side makes you think he already doesn’t like her. “Don’t talk to her, (name).”

Shimmering comets for eyes turn to meet yours, glowing with a certain spark that had hidden thoughts.

“You’ll get into trouble.”

“Thank you, Ieiri-chan. Please sit at the empty desk near the back by Minato-chan.” A shuffle of papers as your homeroom teacher neatens the stack. “I want you all to be nice to our new friend, okay?”

“Okay, sensei!”

“Good! Now let’s begin class.”

Lunch rolls by far too quickly today. You swear the clock is definitely moving faster than usual.

“Heyyyyy. Stop studying and let’s go playyyyy!” A poke of your cheek as you stare at Suguru’s workings, eyes narrowing as you try to make sense of these complicated numbers.

“Ah, make sure you erase this. You’ll get confused if you don’t.”

“Is this right?” Your paper is pushed towards the more helpful of your friends, anticipating his praise as you wait with bated breath as his purple eyes scan over the worksheet.

You definitely got it this time. Definitely.

“Suguruuuuu! Y’er so slow, I’ll do it!” And that has him snatching up the starting to crumple sheet, blue eyes screening over it with ferocious and frightening accuracy, his cute brows furrowed and his bottom lip jutted out as he lets out a huff.

“This one’s wrong.” A finger taps against your paper, drawing a circle with his fingertip as he yawns. “And this one. This too.”

“The last one was s’pposed to be right but ya forgot to carry the 1 over.” His cheeks puff with dismissiveness when he looks up to only see Suguru comforting you with pats on your shoulder.

Oh.

“W-What? I only checked ‘em over!” He’s not at fault again for something, right? He was sure this was a more straightforward thing of being correct or not, something that shouldn’t be that big of a deal even if it’s because of the way he spoke—

If you hadn’t gotten them all wrong, that is.

“…it’s okay, (name). We can just practice them again.” And you pout, letting Suguru pat your head in consolation as you stare down at the hurriedly marked paper that was handed back to you. “Satoru just doesn’t know how to be nice cause he’s mean.”

“Hey! I can be nice!” Fuming rage and his hands slamming against his desk. “I’ll help ya both study later if (name) gives me a hug and the pudding in your fridge!”

And he’s serious about it. You can tell by his shiny cheeks and those smug half-lidded eyes that he would help— Even if you didn’t give him the pudding. The hug would be mandatory, though.

“What does my pudding even have to do with all this?”

All this whilst that new girl sat alone in the back of the class by herself. She’s not good at making friends, you notice. Quietly keeping to herself as she flips through a book, ignoring the cries of your schoolmates running down the hallway and into the wide, wide yard.

And when hands squeeze your cheeks together, mushing your face into his palms and making you turn away—

“You shouldn’t look at other people when we’re here. Sato—“ He stops himself, eyes moving from the pouting boy and back to your face that was in his hands. “I don’t like it.”

You must’ve been staring for too long.

——

“I don’t wanna go!” He’s clinging to you, backpack hastily thrown onto the ground as Kimiko-san tries her absolute hardest to persuade her young master into the car.

“Please, Satoru-sama. You have martial arts training—“

“Don’t wanna! I wanna stay with (name)!”

So all you can do is stand there and pat his shoulder, his head on your not at all stiff shoulder as you reciprocate his overly attached self, blinking up at a panicking Kimiko-san before down to the head of fluffy white.

“Suguru said he’ll beat you up with judo if you don’t go.”

Because he’s in the club. And he’s really good at it. Better than Satoru, actually.

“That dummy’s not gonna beat me.” It’s off handed and far too self assured as it’s muffled by the strap of your bag.

“You don’t know that.” You really don’t. Suguru’s been going on and on about training a lot, and he let you both see how he could do a flip once. At least— You think it counts as a flip anyway.

And you can hear him mutter unintelligible words, before he pulls away, his hands grabbing onto your shoulders and ferocious, narrowed eyes staring at you head-on with a pout on his lips.

“You better be at home to play with me when we’re back!”

“Okay.” You nod, sticking out your pinky towards him as you smile. “I promise.”

“Hmph!” He takes it, roughly, with a pout that turned into a satisfied smile as he finally— Finally gets in the car.

(“Thank you so much, (name)-sama…”

“It’s okay. I heard Libras were unlucky today cause the stars aren’t aligned for them. You should be cautious about the people around you, lest you run into trouble.”

“T-Thank you, (name)-sama…? Please get home safe. Weather reports say that it will rain soon.”)

And what unexpectedly occurred— Was the fact that the new kid was waiting in the same area as you were, waiting out the rain due to a neglected umbrella that probably sat near her door.

Which was the same case as you were. Except— Despite Kimiko-san’s warning, you ended up wandering around school too long in hopes of getting to watch Suguru train.

“Hi.” You’re trying to make conversation now that it’s just the both of you. Alone. By yourselves. This is a rare chance, honestly. You can count how many times you’ve been left like this by your friends on one hand throughout the years you’ve all been together.

It’s a chance you don’t really want to pass up. Time to put those social skills you’ve gleaned over the years into good use.

(From all those TV shows you’ve watched, of course. Your zodiac sign said that you’ll be lucky if you put yourself out there! And you’re outside right now, so you definitely have been buffed. A special power-up, if you will.)

“…hello.” A response. This is a success. A major success that you got on your own accord.

(Onto the next phase!)

“So didya hear about the… Recent sports festival?” You nod your head. Perfect. Perfect follow-up. “Our school held one a couple days ago.”

“Oh. That.” She doesn’t look up from the book she had been reading all this time. And now that you’re much closer to her than you ever were before—

You realize it’s a manga. Not a book. Technically, she is holding onto a book, but utilizing the hard cover page to cover up the fact that the manga had been sneakily slotted in.

“I was meant to join just a day before, actually. But I made my mama wait a couple days more.”

What.

“You waited until the day after?” Why? Why would she— This new girl do such a thing when it could bring you and your class such great glory?

“But the sports festival is fun…” And a great chance to make a ton of new friends. She’s not under the same promises that you made.

She goes silent, the mole on her cheek rising with her huff as she looks off to the side, out to the open air space that held the path to the school entrance as droplets of water tap against the tips of her shoes.

“Cause it’s bothersome.”

Oh. That’s a new type of answer.

“Do you hate bothersome things?”

And finally— She looks into your eyes, pushing back a stray strand of her long hair and her eyes hued with dews of luster brown that reminded you of the autumn sunset surrounded by orange leaves and sunset rays.

“Yea.”

“Oh.” That’s all you know how to say now, actually. Um… How do you respond to that?

So you go silent. You think she might be annoyed. Hopefully she’s not? You hope she likes you, though. And that you left an okayish impression. Should you tell her she’s pretty? But still, Suguru’s prettier but you can’t tell her that—

“Do you… Usually let them treat you like that?” She sounds… Bored. Maybe taken aback. Or was it simply just curiosity?

Either way, you’ve never really heard anyone ask about that— Other than your Mama, of course. But you tell her everything practically everyday.

“Is there something—“ How should you say it? Is she trying to tell you something? You think it’s fine, even if you don’t know how other people view it. “Bad about the way they treat me?”

You watch as she thinks for a bit, staring off to the side for a bit and up into the dark skies as the rain starts to pour just that little bit harder.

“Not at all.”

——

“Stop looking at me like that, you brat.”

Your eyes were practically boring into him as you watch him rub at a bruise on his cheek, his knuckles stained with dried blood and his green eyes narrowed into a mean glare.

“Did you beat up some—“ You try to think about how he described those people the last time you talked to him— Which was around last week, maybe?

“Butt ugly misters?”

It’s not the exact wording he used, but whatever he says makes you scared to parrot them since you’ve seen one of the old aunties— Sugimoto-san quite literally gasp when she heard him talk once.

“They’re motherfuc— Bad people. Don’t call them misters.”

“You said you didn’t care what I call them though.”

And all you get in response is the click of his tongue. “Whatever, brat.”

Silence. It’s steady and beating and not at all uncomfortable as you watch him pull out another piece of his snack, big teeth chewing with an open mouth and manners flying away. Yet, you still end up asking from your built up curiosity and these mere few minutes just before either of your friends would make it home.

It’s your free time, anyway.

“Mister, am I a bothersome person?” Like those thugs that he gets into scraps with practically every month?

A deep huff as his teeth chew on dried squid, gnawing at the tough exterior as he stares off into the oranges of the sky. “Duh. Who even likes annoying brats like you?”

Even when he says it like that, you can’t help but feel that it’s not true. There’s a reason you hang around him, a reason you still stay despite how mean and nasty this almost adult can be and how often he lies about how he definitely didn’t get into fights.

It’s because he reminds you a little of Satoru.

His words may cut, may be a little overwhelming and cruel. But they ultimately held no weight, nothing particularly soul-crushing or tear weeping.

You might even dare to say that even his insults sound very comforting to you.

That was why you were eating the very crushed biscuits that had been almost mashed into dust right out of the very crinkled plastic packaging that it came out from right now.

(He bought it for you.)

“Nuh uh. Mama says I’m a good kid.”

Maybe it’s the sincerity in your tone, the innocence that can only come from a child that got him thinking.

He doesn’t know how to describe how he’s feeling right now as he stares down at his bruised knuckles, bloody and calloused and hastily bandaged as he grunts.

“Then stop hanging out with me if you think that, kid.”

previous masterlist next

[yuri-is-online]

Couple's (questionable) Halloween Costumes ft. Tokyo Debunker pt. 2

I had a good night sleep and thought up some more... this is a joke and pt 1 can be found here.

Romeo- Steampunk couple. Romeo feels like the type of guy who completely misses the point of a Halloween costume and instead wheels out something that belongs at an elaborate ball or convention. He is extremely smug about the quality of his costume and the event he's put together for the Casino, and the quality of his arm candy. You knew what you were getting into: 5/10.

Lyca- Sherlock and Watson. He asked Suba for a normal human Halloween costume and worked very hard to put them together for you. You're the inspector so he wants you to be Sherlock, but he's very proud of his Watson costume too. You have a wonderful time at the Halloween party taking turns being the scary dog staring down the other party goers who want to mess with your date: 100/10.

Subaru- Alice and the White Rabbit. Halloween doesn't seem like Suba's scene if I'm honest, way too many people. But he still desperately wants to dress up with and do cute things with you. He falls a little bit more in love when you notice that he needs to tap out and excuses the two of you by insisting you'll be "late for a very important date." Another one who would love to have a little Halloween themed date at his dorm, he's definitely got tea and snacks already picked out: 8/10 (only because he was stressed out)

Leo- A black cat duh. I'm too out of touch with what's popping on TikTok to know what he'd dress up as, I just know he's making Halloween themed thirst traps and dragging you into it. Probably drags you into wearing some sort of mouse costume so he can act out some sort of weird cringey role play and then act like it was all your idea once he turns the camera off, but you knew what you were getting into. Again: 5/10.

Tohma- The Phantom and Christine. This isn't his first choice for a costume, he'd really rather do something much more simple and gimmicky but he's in Frostheim now so he has to be extra. The Phantom mask lets him keep up the monocle look and keeps him from outshining Jin. You will look wonderful no matter what he tricks you into wearing, but the expense of the fabric still makes him cringe a bit. It is so dangerously tempting to drop the pretense with you... 9/10.

Ren- Ghostface t-shirt and ghost t-shirt. You're lucky he let you drag him to this party and no he has no idea why he's getting such weird looks from the other upperclassmen. He just has this shirt because it's horror related and he thought it would be sort of funny to wear when he saw your ghost one. Spends most of the party stealing the hosts wifi to grind last minute resources in his gacha games and eating candy with you. If you explain the looks to him he will die from embarrassment, 7/10

[georgeweasleyslostearhq]

Could I request 16 for George Weasley? A angst/smut post-war one please??

ofc! i got too into the post war and making it too sad that I couldn't seem to fit the smut without it turning weird and just out of nowhere so i am sorry. but if you request something else with smut I'll definitely do it for you!

Christmas prompt 16- “I didn’t have anyone else to spend Christmas with. Hope you don’t mind if I spend it with you.”

COMPANY

pairings: George Weasley x Fem! Summary: George finds that his only comfort during Christmas is with you Warnings: none

George was tired.

he had gone so long in that house full of people who didn't seem to understand his pain, he had gone so long of his family pretending everything was fine, like Fred wasn't gone, like there wasn't an empty seat next to him during dinner

he felt so alone, so sick of everyone asking if he was ok, and even if it had been 8 months, nothing George could do was enough to shake the feeling of his twin being taken away rom him

and as Christmas approached, he found him regretting things, how he left things with people that had any connection to Fred.

mostly, his relationship with you.

you and George, a complicated situation that George always wondered about

it was difficult to figure out what you two were, and to anybody outside of your circle it would have been seen as a relationship, but you weren't

you were never his and he was never yours, but the late nights cuddling in his dorm, the words said in the astronomy were a whole different story

you were best friends, even if Fred would tease him

he would have sked you out- he was going to tell you he loved you the day of the war, but Remus had dragged you away before he could pack up the courage

one of the last things Fred had told George before getting split up was that he should have told you years ago, that the night of Yule ball should had woken him up to how you felt for each other, but instead ended in tears due to an unreciprocated kiss.

it wasn't like he didn't like it, you had just caught him off guard, and by the time he realised your lips were finally on his after years on pining, you pulled away, apologising as you ran away

that was one of his biggest regrets in life.

the next time George saw you after the war was at Fred's funeral. he had been too sad to go up and take to you, despite your effort the only word said between you was a measly sorry before he walked away, taking a piece of your heart with him.

George could have sworn he heard Fred's voice in his head, telling him to talk to you, to tell you how he felt. but he brushed it off

it was too painful to face you, too hard to look at you when Fred had gone so many years telling him that he needed to pack up the courage. and even if Fred was in his head telling him things, it was never the right time.

and as more time went on, the less and less you saw George

he had given up, he couldn't do anything but sulk around in his apartment above him closed shop for months, doing everything in his power to avoid contact with everything of Freds in his home he now lived alone in.

so, George at on his couch, reading a book, the fireplace on with a blanket thrown over his legs as he rested his feet on the coffee table.

he should be at the burrow, where all his family are right now, probably having dinner as festive songs played, the Christmas eve air coming in through a slightly cracked window of the kitchen as they all get ready to go to bed.

George felt like he couldn't move as he stared at the page, his vision blurry as he heard children's laughs outside, oblivious to the destruction the war had caused to their word,

George often wondered what he would be doing if Fred was still here, but he always stops himself from thinking like that, getting frustrated because he knew he was gone, and nothing could bring him back

he just hated the fact the rest of his family seemed to move on so quickly, he despised the fact that some chose to carry on with life as if George's wasn't just destroyed

he snapped out of him and sighed shutting the book, looking up at the photo on the mantle.

a picture of Fred and him, laughing as you stood in the middle, an unamused look on your face to something George chose not to remember

Fred had loved that photo, hanging it up there when they first got this place

❅.⊹₊ ⋆❆‧⋆☃︎

you yawned as you opened the door of your little cottage right outside Hogsmeade

you frowned and then raised your eyebrows as you took in the man you haven't seen in months as he stood in front of you awkwardly.

"sorry for showing up unannounced" he focuses his gaze away at his feet

you stayed silent for a while as you looked at him.

as if he could sense your confusion as to why he is here he looked up, running a hand through his hair

“I didn’t have anyone else to spend Christmas with. Hope you don’t mind if I spend it with you.” he spoke hopefully, his eyes full of something you could figure out

you stepped out of the doorway and let him in, still a little confused

"is your family away?" you asked as he slowly walked in your home, looking somewhat guilty

he shook his head as he played with his fingers nervously

you knew that had to be a reason for him coming here asking to spend Christmas with you, so you had fought the urge not to ask, just in case it might tick something off

"would you like some hot coco? I was in the middle of brewing some" you blinked

he mumbled a simple yes please as you guided him to your living room. he had sat down and shifted multiple times trying to get comfortable in an odd situation he put himself it, he wondered it he should leave, he rethought coming here as you smiled tightly at him, leaving so many words unsaid

"I can leave if you want me t-" he mumbled before you cut him off

"it's ok" you looked away before going to the next room, watching in the corner of your eye as he looked around, drumming his hands on his knee as you walked to the kitchen, making more hot coco for him

you were still so confused as to why he showed up here, out of the blue, it had been so long since you saw him last that you thought you would never see him again, and for a while it seemed like that was for the best. but who are you kidding you've always had a soft spot for the man, however broken he may be from the war, but you were hurt too

you had tried so hard to be there for him, try to be a shoulder he could cry on, but no matter the efforts he had shut you out.

but you could never stay mad at him, it wasn't his fault.

you walked out of the kitchen with two mugs in your hands and sat beside him, passing him a cup of hot chocolate with melting marshmallows

he took notice to the knitting beside you on the couch, laying there, seeming to be left half finished, he wondered if he had interrupted you while knitting.

that was something he always loved about you, the fact that you did everyday things the muggle way when it was easier to do it with a quick flick of your wand. he loved every part of you, even if he's messed everything up

the room was silent for a while, no one daring to speak as you sipped on your hot coco

"so..it's been a while, huh?" he chuckles dryly, placing his mug on the coffee table

"I've missed you" you said shortly, looking away to the candle burning slowly on the mantle

"I've missed you too.." he whispered, looking at you as you looked ahead, admiring the way you look

your eyes still had the same mischievous smile, but held a certain tiredness that couldn't have just been from the time of night he had held you up to.

"I'm sorry I've pushed you away" he started with a sigh

you looked over at him with a frown

he had nothing to be sorry for, yet here he was, on Christmas eve when he should be with his family, wanting to be with you, for the first time in months.

"You don't deserve it, you were trying to be there for me...and I've pushed you away. I want you to be there for me- I do...but I don't. I can look after myself, but I want you with me. I guess.. no one understands what I'm going through...everybody moved on and I'm so angry... I just don't want you around me when I'm like this but this isn't how it's supposed to be" he rambled, his voice wobbling as he spoke

you're trying to process what he means before he takes your hand in his, making you flinch at the coldness of his skin, as rough as his fingertips, they've never been softer, they've never been more gentle.

it reminds you of all the times you'd hold his hands during school, whether it was running from filch, sneaking out or just strolling around, joking about something or another.

"you were supposed to be with me... supposed to be mine, Fred always told me that and I was going to- I should have- and I'm sorry but... I've always felt comfort with you, love. and I just want you.. I miss you" he finished

it's been way to long since he's used that nickname on you.. almost 9 months, the night of the war before you got dragged away

"George..."

you gave his hand a squeeze before resting your head on his shoulder

"I love you... I should have said it years ago...there are so many times I could name where I should have handled things differently and I'm sick of the what ifs because one minute someone is there and the next they aren't and you don't know when the last time you can tell someone you love then. And for this case...the first.. and I'm not risking it..." he shook his hand, pulling you closer to him, his hands slightly shaking as he held you.

"it's ok, George... it's not your fault..." you wiped a tear that had falling down his cheek and kissed his head

he shook his head "no.. no it is.. you could have been here..with me.. I just didn't tell you..let you"

"I knew all you needed was time... and I gave it to you, because I love you."

George frowns as he looks down at you, a sad smile making it's way to his quivering lips

"you do?" he questioned

"I always have, George" you said softly, playing with the nails of your fingers

it's not like you haven't said it before, but it's definitely the first time you've said it with the weight on your shoulders, the meaning seeping off your tongue, coming out so sweet, tasting so good on your lips as you reflected on your relationship with the man currently having a crisis in front of you

"I'm not the same man, love" he closed his eyes, his leg twitching away from yours as he clenches his jaw

"I've known you through every phase, George, I think I can still love you now" you hum

"so I can spend Christmas with you?" he looked at you hopefully

"I guess I could use the company" you shrugged before smiling softly "I want what you want, George, if you don't want to spend it with your family, I'm not going to force you"

"you've always been too good to me...patient..." he furrows his eyebrows. trying to figure out why

why him? he's asked that question a million times this year. but this time he didn't care about any insecurity that held him back

he leaned forward and cupped your cheek, placing a soft kiss to your lips.

"you're the only company I want"

❅.⊹₊ ⋆❆‧⋆☃︎

[canirove]

The invinsible princess | Chapter 7

“Like the title of that Beyoncé song said…”

Author's note: This is one of my favourite chapters, so I hope you like it as much as I do. And to the anon who sent me the loveliest message ever the other day... I'm still thinking about it, thank you very much 😭💜

Chapter 6 | Chapter 8

Masterlist

“I can't fucking feel my ass” I say while getting out of the camper van Pedri and I have rented for our road trip. 

“Sofía!” he gasps. “Those aren't words for a lady like yourself!”

“Oh, I beg for your forgiveness, my lord. Please allow me to rephrase it… Blimey!” I gasp, covering my mouth like women did in old movies. “I can't feel my lower back after being sat for the past two hours!”

“Much better. Thank you, my lady” Pedri says, doing a little curtsey. 

“My lord” I reply, doing the same before we both start laughing. Whoever sees us behaving like this at a petrol station, must think we are crazy. “Anyway, can you do me a favour before you start with that?” I ask him, nodding towards the van.

“Of course. What does the lady need?”

“I need to use the bathroom, but I don't want to go alone.”

“What?” Pedri laughs. 

“Yeah, I just… What if I'm doing my business and someone comes in and catches me there? I don't want to go online and see that a photo of myself sitting on the toilet has gone viral.”

After my first and so far only viral photo, the one with Charles Leclerc a few years ago, I've become a bit less invisible than what I was used to. Most people still pay more attention to my sister Leonor, but Carlos has had to stop paparazzis from taking photos of me and my aunt leaving work together more than once. 

“Ok, fine” Pedri sighs. “It is a bit weird to not have Carlos around, isn't it? He usually is the one who does these things.”

“It is, yes. But it was what we wanted, so” I shrug.

“I'm sure he still is keeping an eye on us somehow” Pedri says as we walk towards the back of the petrol station, where the bathroom is. “I can see him glued to his phone, checking the van’s GPS to make sure we are following the route we shared with him” he laughs. “He may have even set some microphones and cameras inside to make sure we are alive.”

“For his own sake, I hope he hasn't.”

“Because of what he may have heard last night, for example?” he smirks. 

“If you mean your snoring, then yes. But I was talking about you singing while driving.”

“I beg your pardon?” 

“Let's just say that becoming a singer isn't a career path you should follow once you retire from football.”

“So rude, my lady. So rude… And we've made it.”

“Aren't you going inside?”

“What?” Pedri chuckles.

“Yeah… To make sure there is no one hiding or something.”

“Sofía, this petrol station isn't like the ones you see in American movies. Here they clean their bathrooms and there isn't a guy hiding behind a door ready to kidnap you and take you to his cabin in the woods.”

“Better safe than sorry” I shrug.

“Urgh, fine” he replies, rolling his eyes and walking into the bathroom. “It's empty, you can come in.”

“Did you check it properly?”

“Yes, I did. There is no one inside, and it is quite clean. Maybe not as much as those golden toilets you have at the palace where you can see your own reflection, but they are ok.”

“Idiot” I say, giving him a little push and making him laugh. “But thank you, Pedri.”

“Anything for you, my lady” he smiles.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“I think we'll have enough with these snacks until we… Sofía? What are you doing?”

“Have you ever used one of these?” I say, looking at the machines outside the petrol station’s shop.

“Yeah. Who hasn't?” Pedri chuckles. “Oh. Sorry. You…”

“As a kid we often saw them when we were on holidays, but my mum never allowed Leonor and I to buy anything from them. She said they were just a stupid way to waste your money on useless stuff.”

“I mean, she's not wrong. But we used to have one at the bar in Tenerife, and just seeing the kids’ faces when the ball comes out of the machine and they open it to see which surprise they've gotten makes it worth it.”

“I guess...”

“Here, take this.”

“Why are you giving me these coins?”

“They are the change I got from buying our snacks” he says, nodding towards the bag in his hand. “You can use them on the machines.”

“What?”

“You just told me that you've always wanted to give them a go, haven't you? Then do it, Sofía. You are an adult now, your mum won't scold you for doing it” he chuckles.

“I… I… Thank you, Pedri” I say before wrapping my arms around his neck and hugging him. 

“That's ok” he smiles. “C'mon, let's see what they have.”

The first machine is a Pokémon one, and each ball has a different figurine inside it. 

“What is that?” 

“Pedri, this is Charizard!”

“I'm only familiar with Pikachu” he shrugs.

“You… seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“And then I'm the weird one.”

“You aren't weird, Sofía” he says, kissing my cheek before I put another coin on the next machine. This one has just little teddy bears made of rubber. Very ugly teddy bears. “That smile they painted on him is kind of creepy, isn't it?” Pedri says when I open the ball I got.

“A bit, yes” I laugh, moving to the next machine. This one has little racing cars, and he is definitely way more excited about it than me. “This one is for you” I say, giving him one of the coins.

“For me?”

“For you” I smile. “I know you are dying to do it and see which car you will get.”

“I actually am, yes” he smiles back.

“But wait, let me get my phone and film you. I have the feeling this is going to be the cutest thing ever.”

“Everything I do is cute, my lady” he winks before crouching down in front of the machine, looking like a kid on Christmas morning when he opens the ball and sees the car inside it. “Now it is my turn to film you” he says once he has calmed down. 

“Me?”

“The last one has jewelry or something like that. And you like your jewels, my lady” he smirks.

“I do, yes” I reply, my hand instinctively moving to my necklace. To the banana charm, the S one, and the new addition: a P one he got me for my birthday last year.

“And? What is it?” Pedri asks me when I open the ball. 

“I think… oh.”

“That actually is quite nice, isn't it? Let me help you put it on.”

“What?” I chuckle.

“I have to practice for when it's time for the real one” he smirks, taking the ring from my hand and putting the phone on his pocket. Because the surprise on that last ball had been a ring, one that didn't look that bad for just 1€. “There you go. Perfect.”

“Though not as perfect as you” I say, wrapping my arms around his neck once again. “Thank you very much for this, Pedri.”

“For putting a ring on your finger?”

“For everything. From checking the bathroom to see if there was a murderer lurking in the shadows, to buying me my favourite chocolate bar without me asking for it, and for letting me experience this and go home with a very cool ring. The real one is gonna have to be a really cool ring to be better than this one” I say with a teasing smile.

“It isn't gonna be an easy task, no. But I'll do my best. Because for you, my lady… For you I would do anything.”

“Aww, Pedri…” I say, trying to not start crying in the middle of a petrol station. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Sofía” he says before kissing me.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Ok, what happened.”

“Uh?”

“Pedri, you've been dating my sister for years and you know I love you like a brother” Leonor says. “But this is the first time we are having lunch together just the two of us without Sofía.”

“Then it was time we did it, don't you think?” he shrugs, focusing on his food.

“Pedri…” Leonor sighs. “What happened? Is everything ok between you two?”

“Yeah.”

“Then?”

“Then nothing.”

“Pedro!” Leonor says, raising her voice.

“God, you just sounded like your mum when she gets mad with your dad” he chuckles.

“Oh, this is not me being mad. Me being mad is something you don't want to see, so you better tell me what the hell is going on.”

“I…” he gulps. “I want to propose to Sofía.”

“No!” Leonor gasps, making Pedri thank everything for being alone in a private area of the restaurant. Because if they had been surrounded by people, all eyes would be in them after how loud that gasp had been. “You are going to do it?”

“Yeah” he says, nervously playing with his fork.

“How? When? Where?”

“I don't know yet. I actually decided it this morning.”

“What?”

“Yeah” Pedri says again. “I had just left my therapist's office, and it hit me: I was ready. I am ready to ask Sofía to marry me and to deal with everything that will come once it is made oficial.”

“Wow” Leonor says. “But do you think she is ready for it too? To stop being the invisible princess like she always says? Because this engagement is gonna be talked about worldwide. The princess and the football player! The fanfic that becomes a reality!” she chuckles.

“Has she shown you the ring she got during our road trip this summer?”

“The plastic one she loves so much?”

“The very same. When I gave it to her I told her it was practice for when I put the real one on her finger” Pedri says. “And since then, we've been talking a lot more about getting married, about how it will be, what will change, discussed it with our therapist… And I think she also is ready, that we both are on the same page.”

“Then it is happening. It's happening!” 

“Leonor, what are you…”

“What happened?” the queen says over the phone.

“Hello to you too, mum” Leonor replies, rolling her eyes.

“Hi, sorry. But what happened? Why are you calling me at lunch time?”

“Is dad with you?”

“Hello!” the king says. “Where are you, Leonor?”

“I'm in Barcelona, visiting Sofía.”

“Oh, is she there? Are you girls out together?” the king asks her.

“I'm out with someone, but not her. Pedri, say hello” she says, turning her phone so it faces him.

“I… Umm… Hello” he says with an awkward smile, hoping her parents can't see that he is blushing. Even though he has known them for years and shared many things with them, sometimes he still goes all shy when he remembers he is talking to the King and Queen of Spain.

“Oh, Pedri!” the queen says. “How are you? Everything ok?”

“Yes, perfect. Thank you for asking. And sorry for interrupting your lunch.”

“Oh, don't worry about that. What happened?”

“Uh?”

“Something must have happened for Leonor to call us and for you two to be having lunch together without Sofía” the queen says.

“Well… I… Umm” he mumbles.

“It's happening, mum” Leonor says, moving the phone so it is facing her again. “He's doing it!”

“He is doing what?” the king asks. 

“He is going to ask Sofía to marry him!”

“No!” the queen gasps as loudly as Leonor earlier. Maybe even louder. “You better not be messing with us.”

“I’m not, mum. I swear. Pedri, tell them” she says, turning her phone again. 

“I… Ummm… Yeah. It's true” he says. “I want to ask Sofía to marry me.”

“He's doing it! He is doing it!” the queen screams.

“I heard you, darling” the king chuckles. 

“Our baby is getting married!”

“First she has to say yes” he chuckles again. “And I have to give Pedri my blessing too.”

“Oh, please” she says, rolling her eyes. “You don't need to do that. It is just a formality, not something you actually have to do, and we live in the 21st century, not the middle ages. Besides, we all know you love him like the son you never had. You are as happy as I am about this. Maybe even more.”

“I am, yes” he smiles. “And even if you don't need it, you have my blessing, Pedri.”

“Thank you, sir” he replies.

“Now, details” the queen says. “Have you chosen a ring? Do you know where you are going to propose? And when? Because we have a trip to South America coming soon and…”

“Mum, relax” Leonor chuckles.

“Sorry, I'm sorry. I am just so happy for them!”

“We can tell, darling” the king says. “But tell us, Pedri. Have you thought of anything?”

“I have not, no” he says. “I was hoping that you and Leonor could help me, because I don't know where to start. I mean, I have some ideas about where I could do it, but the ring? She likes jewellery so much and each piece she owns is so different that I don't know what she could like. And maybe there is like some tradition to follow? A ring to pass from one generation to another? I don't know.”

“I think I have an idea” the king says.

“You?” the queen says, arching an eyebrow.

“Yes, me. Has she ever told you about her favourite painting?”

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“I can't believe you managed to close an entire museum to celebrate our anniversary.”

“Perks of being your grandmother's favourite” Pedri winks. “And this is your museum too.”

“What?”

“Reina Sofía?”

“Pedri, this museum was named after my grandmother, not me. We may share the same name, but I've never been and never will be queen.”

“You are the queen of my heart, tho” he smirks.

“Oh… my God” I laugh, my voice echoing on the empty corridors. Or almost empty since I know Carlos is keeping an eye on us from somewhere.

“What? It is the truth” Pedri says before making me twirl and pulling me against his body. “Have I told you yet that you look beautiful tonight?”

“You have, yes” I say, wrapping my hands around his neck while he starts to slowly rock us from side to side. 

We are dancing to no music in the middle of a museum, surronded by art and history eveywhere, and it is… It is the most romantic thing ever.

“Well, you look so beautiful that I have to say it many times so it is accurate.”

“Like me telling you that I love you many times per day and still not being enough to show how much I love you?”

“Exactly” he smiles before making me twirl again. “Should we continue with our tour?”

“I like it here.”

“But I don't like that guy in that painting. It's like he is judging us.”

“If he can read minds, he probably is judging me.”

“You? Why? What is that pretty head of yours thinking about?”

“This pretty head…” I say, moving closer so only he can hear me. “Is thinking about all the things she wants to do to you, and all the things she wants you to do to her once we are alone.”

“Oh… I see.”

“Yep” I smile. “Though that king should not judge me too much since history books say he had like ten lovers and more than twenty bastards besides the five kids with his wife.”

“Really?”

“I mean, the legitimate kids definitely were five, there are records of it. The lovers and the bastards depend on the historian you ask. But everyone agrees on him not being the most faithful of husbands. He was married to one of the most extraordinary women in our history, and he treated her like shit despite being the one who was keeping the kingdom from falling apart while he was hunting, partying and getting drunk with his friends.”

“You aren't his biggest fan, are you?” Pedri chuckles. 

“I am not, no.”

“But you do like his wife.”

“She is one of my favourite historical figures” I smile. “There actually is a painting of her here at the museum that is one of my favourites. Do you want to see it?”

“Of course” he smiles back. “Lead the way, my lady.”

“My lord” I giggle when he takes my hand on his and kisses it.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“She was beautiful.”

“She was, wasn't she?” I say while Pedri and I look at the painting in front of us. “And this is just a painting, so you can imagine how striking she must have been in real life. But she was more than just a pretty face. She was one of the most intelligent women of her time, and like I told you, the country didn't go to hell thanks to her.”

“So she basically was like you, but you have a faithful husband” Pedri winks.

“Oh, shut up” I laugh, giving him a little push. “First of all, you aren't my husband.”

“Yet” he smirks.

“And second, I've done nothing compared to everything she did.”

“Don’t say that, Sofía. You are helping people daily, making them happy and giving them hope, and I still haven't heard anyone complaining about it. And I'm talking about the people that matter, not the trolls online.”

“Yeah, I guess…” I sigh. 

“And if you don't believe me when I tell you that you are alike, just look at all the jewels she's wearing and the ones you are wearing right now. You are only missing the crown!”

“You know, I may like wearing so many things because of her” I chuckle.

“How so?”

“Even though I've always complained about my parents paying more attention to Leonor than me, there was a moment each month where I felt like that wasn't the case, and that was when my dad would bring me here to have something like a date just the two of us. We would visit a different part of the museum each time, but we would always come here and visit her, my dad always telling me something new about her. So I think I like jewellery so much because of all those hours I've spent looking at her and analysing every detail on this painting.”

“So like people say these days, you were influenced by her.”

“Exactly” I laugh.

“Do you have a favourite piece of jewellery she wears? Like one you wish you could have and wear every day if it was possible.”

“That ring” I say, pointing at it. 

“Wow, that was fast” Pedri chuckles.

“I've been obsessed with it since the first time I saw it for some reason. But unlike other pieces like the crown or the earrings, that one went missing. Some say she asked to be buried with it since it was a gift from the love of her life. And no, that wasn't the king.”

“So it was like… an engagement ring?”

“Something like that, yes” I say. “It was a ring that symbolised the love she and that man she loved so much had. A true and pure love that would last forever.”

“Like ours, then” Pedri smiles, kissing my hand again.

“Like ours, yes” I smile back. 

“One that we should also probably… seal, somehow.”

“What?”

“Sofía…” Pedri says, letting go of my hand to pick something that was hiding behind one of the benches on the room. A little box. A… wait. Wait, wait, wait, wait. Is that… Is he… “We always joke about me being the cheesy one in our relationship, but the truth is that when I have to actually be like that and put into words what I feel for you… What you make me feel… Well, I suck” he chuckles. “You actually are the one who has a way with words, the one who can properly express those feelings, not me. So since they say actions are louder than words, that's what I am going to do.”

“Pedri…” I whisper as he gets down on one knee. He's doing it. He is actually doing it, he… Holy shit.

“Sofía… my lady” he says with that smirk that he knows I love, the one I fell in love with the moment I first saw it years ago in Germany. “Would you marry me?”

“Pedri!” I gasp when I see the ring inside the little box. “Is that… is it…”

“We didn't desecrate any grave, don't worry” he chuckles. “This is a new ring, a copy of that one you love so much.”

“But I just told you about it! How did you…”

“Your dad” he smiles. “I didn't know which type of ring you would like because you like different styles, so I asked Leonor and your parents, and he mentioned this ring and this painting you've always been obsessed with.”

“So coming here tonight was my dad's idea?”

“That was all me, he just gave me the inspiration I needed. Going to museums has always been one of our favourite things to do together, this one has your name even if it wasn't named after you, it has your favourite painting of one of your favourite people, and the ring was inspired by it, so I thought it was the perfect place to ask you a question you haven't answered yet.”

“Uh?”

“I asked you a question, Sofía. Remember?”

“Oh, shit, sorry. Yes.”

“Yes…”

“Yes, I want to marry you, Pedri.”

“You do?”

“Of course I do!” I laugh. 

“Great, cool… Cool” he chuckles, his hand shaking as he takes the ring from the little box and takes mine. 

“You know how to do it, Pedri. You already did it once” I tease him, showing him the plastic ring on the other hand.

“I know. But this is the real deal, you know?”

“I know. And I love it.”

“Do you?” he says once the ring is on my finger, his thumb caressing my hand while still holding it.

“I do. I love it almost as much as I love you.”

“Almost?”

“Almost, yes. Because it is impossible to love anything more than I love you, Pedri.”

“I love you too, Sofía. Or should I say…” he says as he wraps one arm around my waist and leans me back like they do in movies. “Fiancée?”

“You should… fiancé” I smirk before he kisses me. “Did you hear that noise?” I whisper when we break apart.

“What?” 

“There is something… Carlos?” I call.

“Sorry, ma'am.”

“Carlos, are you crying?”

“I… I am, ma'am” he says, wiping his tears with the sleeve of his jacket. “It's just… you are getting married.”

“I am, yes” I smile, showing him the ring. 

“It's beautiful, ma'am. You look beautiful. Like, you should see your smile right now. It is the most beautiful smile I've ever seen.”

“Aww, Carlos” I say before hugging him and starting to cry too.

“I'm so happy for you, ma'am. For both of you” he says, awkwardly ending our embrace. 

“Thank you, Carlos” Pedri smiles. “We wouldn't be here if it wasn't because of you, you know? If you hadn't allowed Sofía to leave the Euros party…”

“Yeah” he chuckles. “Though I almost ruined it all when I heard your friends talking and I thought you were only interested in her because of a bet.”

“I actually think that misunderstanding is the reason why we are here” I say.

“What?”

“I don't know if without it Pedri would have been brave enough to tell me that he had had a crush on me for years” I say while giving him a teasing smile, his cheeks turning bright red. “Him being so open and honest with me just after we had met, somehow made me trust him and see that he wasn't like the other guys I had dated. That there were no secret intentions. So thank you, Carlos. And we are sorry for everything you've had to see and deal with over the years.”

“It's ok, ma'am. Just doing my job” he smiles. “Would you like to see the photos I've taken?”

“Photos? What photos?” 

“Carlos may have been our personal photographer and videographer during the night” Pedri says.

“What?”

“I wanted to remember tonight, and basically everyone in your family would kill me if there was no proof of what happened” he shrugs.

“That's… true, yes. Thank you” I say, kissing his cheek. “And thank you again, Carlos.”

“Ma'am” he replies, giving me his phone to check everything. From the sneaky photos he's taken of us smiling at each other throughout the museum, kissing or dancing together, to the video of Pedri getting on one knee and asking me to marry him. Because it happend, it was real. 

Pedri and I are getting married. 

[diasslim]

NEW WRITER?! yesss

reader is scared Em is cheating on her but he actually proposes :333 fluffy fluff fluff :333

(also do u do b rabbit and what like eras of eminem do u do :3)

-🐪

A/N: Thx for ur request 🐪! For now I will most do for 00's Em (Slim-) but I accept req for nowdays also. And, for now, I wont do BRabbit bc I don't remember a single thing from 8 Mile.

1/2

Warning: Mention of smoking.

..................................................................................

When he told you that he was going to be late home you were already bitting your bottom lip nervously, thinking about all the other times that he told you that his kisses with the fangirls, random hook ups, topless girls and misstress were done by the time he laid his eyes on you, slowly believing that it was all a lie and that you're probably the most funny joke on his friend group since you two got together.

If not, why would him pass nights out, be home late and forget to message or call you, did you do something wrong? You doubt, a cheater would cheat even if he had the most perfect partner with them. So why you want to cry, thinking that you could be just like this girls from the magazines he used to read?

You groan angrily as you get up, going for the living room, maybe playing a game or reading a fairytale for Halie would make you forget about what Marshall can be doing behind your back. But the little girl is sleeping heavily next to the cereal bowl she insisted to have because she would eat everything – even if you know she would eat three balls and forget about the snack how could you decline it for these big cute eyes? – You sigh, heading to the girl and carressing her cheek before getting the bowl and returning all the snack to it's previous box.

You don't want to go out – it's dangerous to let the little girl alone – Neither watch TV – did you even pay it? – Letting out another groan you go to the shared bedroom, looking out for a cigarette.

A bad habit that could turn into a dangerous addiction, you know, but who would care anyways? Your cheating boyfriend that would not.

Looking more deeply into the closet your hand bump into a box between the folded sweaters. You raise an eyebrow in confusion as you take it. Of course. You knew that he didn't threw away the magazines since their box still on his side of the closet.

You sit on the bed, getting more and more angry, frustrated, and sad as you open the box, just to find no magazine but another smaller black box. And you could recignize it.

Letting out a small scream as you threw it on the other side of the bed you put your hands infront of your mouth – in a pure state of shock.

So he wasn't hiding anything about other woman at all, it was wedding rings, wedding rings for you... Wait, a wedding ring for him to ask your hand in marriage?

You giggle as you let out another small scream, taking and opening the black box and getting the ring from inside it.

It fit perfectly on your ring finger. It was beautiful. Not like a super expensive diamond ring these famous hot girls you read about get, but still the most perfect ring on world, your – future – ring.

You giggle again as you put the ring in the box and the box in the other box. Putting everything back to where you found it.

You get your cellphone and opens the chat with Marshall, his last message being him being sorry for not getting home soon today, you answers back saying for him to come back as late as he can because you have a surprise for him.

You put your phone on your purse, putting the strap on your shoulder before going to Halie and waking her up.

"Hey, princess. Wake up we're going out."

"Where are we going?"

"For this beauty dalon you came with me on the other day. I need to get pretty for your father."

"Why?"

"Because he just made me the happiest girl alive without knowing."

..................................................................................

[guksvault]

HOUSE OF BALLOONS | JJK

02- & The After Party

synopsis: fleeing the pressure and pretense of your elite life, you stumble into the seductive chaos of the House of Balloons. There, Jungkook waits— ready to make you question everything you thought you knew.

w/c: 2.6k

warnings: drug/alcohol references/usage, jk is a big ol' meanie pt 2, reader grows some balls, lil intro to how the boys met!! brief mention of suicide & death.

a/n: jjk made todays lil scrapbook!! isnt he so!! <33!! (making each chapters scrapbook is sm fun!! gives u another pov of the characters me thinks!!) i also have like 8 more chapters written already :/ anyways!! enjoy!!

!minorsdni! // masterlist

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You climbed the stairs with one goal in mind: find Yoongi and get as far away as possible from the creeper downstairs whose stare had made your skin crawl. Usually, being stared at wasn’t a problem—if anything, you were used to it. Admiration, curiosity, envy—you’d seen it all. But this? This was different. This was the kind of look that made you want to shed your own skin just to escape it.

At the top of the stairs, four closed bedroom doors greeted you, each one a gamble you weren’t willing to take. Walking in on Yoongi mid-hookup—or worse, anyone else—was not on your agenda tonight.

Relief washes over you when you see a bathroom tucked to the right of the landing. Slipping inside, you took a moment to collect yourself, fix your appearance, and prepare to call it a night.

Jungkook hadn’t stopped watching you since you first hovered outside the house, pacing the street like you didn’t belong here—which, to him, you didn’t. He told himself it wasn’t personal, just habit. You were too polished, too put-together for a place like this, and that Chanel purse you clutched like a lifeline? He was half hoping you’d leave it unattended, knows you probably have a heavy amount of cash in there— wouldn’t notice if he helped himself.

His eyes tracked you as you disappeared up the stairs, slipping into the bathroom at the end of the hall. Before he realised what he was doing, he stood, following you upstairs. He stopped just short of the bathroom door, leaning against the wall opposite it, waiting—though for what, he wasn’t sure.

He was surprised you were still here. He’d bet against himself earlier, figuring you’d last an hour—two, tops. But it was nearing 3 a.m. now, and somehow, you were still here. Still out of place. Still unwanted.

Inside the bathroom, you finished your touch-ups, smoothing your appearance with a determination to leave, to put this entire night behind you. But the moment you opened the door, you froze. There he was—leaning against the wall, arms crossed, shadows playing over the ink that curled along his skin. The light caught his face now, more defined than before, and you couldn’t help but think how unfair it was that assholes always got the prettiest faces.

“Fuck, sorry,” you blurt, assuming he’s waiting for the bathroom.

“Daddy know you’ve got a mouth like that?” Jungkook muttered, his gaze locked on yours, tongue playing lazily with his lip ring.

“Does yours know you’re kind of a cunt?” you shoot back.

He scoffed, his eyes dragging over you—slow and deliberate—before meeting your glare again. “I can tell Yoongi you had to leave. We both know you don’t belong here.”

It was your turn to scoff. “Have I done something to upset you, Jonathan, was it?”

His jaw tightened, and he let out a sharp exhale through his nose. “Jungkook,” he corrected, his voice low. He shook his head, stepping closer. “Yoongi left that world for a reason. He doesn’t need it following him here. Matter of fact, none of us do.”

You tilted your head slightly, as you turned to fully face him. “Good thing I didn’t ask if you wanted me here, then. Don’t really give a fuck either way.”

You knew exactly what you represented—a constant reminder of everything they didn’t have. But how many more times did they need to throw it in your face?

"If Yoongi wanted me out, I’d be out,” you said evenly, your voice calm despite the sharp edge beneath it. “Don’t think he needs some little coked-up emo to speak for him, hm?” The way his jaw clenched told you it landed exactly as intended.

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth, yeah?” Jungkook snapped, his tone venomous. “Might be worth something back in Seoul, but here? Where you are right now? No one gives a fuck.”

“You seem awfully invested, though,” you replied, feigning a pout as you shrugged nonchalantly before turning on your heel.

Without looking back, you made your way downstairs—not to the battered, god-awful couches, but to the table by the kitchen. Grabbing a shot, you downed it in one go, the burn somehow soothing you as you leaned casually against the counter.

The crowd had thinned out, with a few stragglers passed out here and there, cups and balloons still littering the floor. The music that had once blasted through the house now played softer, dark instrumentals, a haunting contrast to the earlier chaos.

An arm slung over your shoulder, and Yoongi’s voice distracting you from your thoughts. “Still kickin’, Bee?”

“Apparently.”

“Welcome to the House of Balloons,” he snorted, a proud smirk tugging at his lips as he stuck a cigarette between them.

“House of Balloons?”

Yoongi nodded, lighting the end of the cigarette. “Throw these fuckin’ parties every weekend. People love the fuckin’ balloons.”

"Every weekend, huh?"

Yoongi nodded, explaining it was a tradition. He told you they’d never missed a weekend since they started, but left out the why. He didn’t tell you how much he fucking loved it either—but you could feel it. There was a light in Yoongi’s eyes now, something he didn’t have when he was attending galas and charity events, though that could’ve been the snow racing through his bloodstream.

Once upon a time, around the moment Yoongi gave you your first blunt, you thought maybe, just maybe, you and Yoongi would’ve ended up together. You had the fattest crush on him, but he’d shattered that when he lost his virginity to Kim Soyeon in a bathroom at the Four Seasons during some High Society gathering.

He looks over to you. “You really thinkin’ ‘bout leaving it all?”

You shrug slightly. “Not if it’s gonna lead me here. No offense.”

He laughed, nudging your shoulder before taking the cigarette back from you. “Do it better than I did. Get your hands on some cash, keep your contacts. I ain’t got shit now, never been happier—but fuck, it could’ve been easier.”

You stood there with Yoongi, letting him mumble about his music. Fucker could barely string a sentence together— Head was rolling, his jaw too.

It only takes another 20 minutes—one uncalled-for squeeze to your ass by some horned-up freak and a death stare from Jungkook—before you realise it’s home time.

“Another party tomorrow night. Always welcome here, Bee. Friday through Sunday, the House of Balloons will always love to have you,” Yoongi says, offering you a lazy grin before closing the door to your Uber

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

It’s half past 5 by the time you arrive back at the penthouse.

Quiet. Clean. Bright. All the things the House of Balloons wasn’t.

The only sound is the chef in the kitchen, preparing far too much food for a Saturday breakfast.

You manage to slip into your room without your parents questioning where you’ve been or why you’re strolling in at fuck-ass o’clock.

You lay in bed, soft noises coming from the vanilla bean diffuser refreshing the room. Eyes on the ceiling. Thoughts on the House of Balloons.

What the fuck was that? Why did I see 4 people getting it on in the open? Did I really look like a hooker? I would make a decent hooker- no. Shut up. Wouldn't go to Daegu if I was a fucking hooker. What hooker wears Hervé Léger pulled from the archive specially for you? Was the party still thriving?

It was. Yoongi wasn’t lying when he said Friday through to Monday. It’s simple, really;

Friday rolls around, the house opens at 9 p.m., and people start filing in for the night. The place is usually cleared out by 8 a.m., except for the few passed out around the house or the girls letting the guys use their bodies.

Repeat on Saturdays.

Sunday’s come-down day. Still a rager, just fewer pussies who can’t handle it.

By 10 a.m. Monday, the house is clean and ready to prepare for the next weekend.

Hoseok’s uses the weekdays to work on his set, DJing from a shitty deck he stole from a college music room he broke into one night. The House of Balloons wouldn’t be the House of Balloons without his dark, seductive mixes and occasional throwbacks to early 2000s and 90s club bangers.

Yoongi organizes the drop-offs from his dealer. The money everyone throws into that rusted bucket? That’s their Snow Stash. The House of Balloons wouldn’t be the House of Balloons without its fair share of coke, weed, and god-awful cheap booze.

Jimin’s mostly in charge of the crowd that comes to the parties. A charmer, he knows how to make the night feel like it’s worth more than it is. He tells a desperate stranger, who tells a friend, who tells another. The House of Balloons wouldn’t be the House of Balloons without a crowd full of depressed, desperate delinquents.

Joon was in charge of creating the vibe. He’d taken a liking to interior design, spending too much time organising layouts and finding little decor pieces (most of which he definitely stole from someone’s yard or a store). The House of Balloons wouldn’t be the House of Balloons without its grunge, dark, and chaotic atmosphere.

And Jungkook? He’s in charge of—well, being Jungkook. The women stroll into the House of Balloons, see him, and decide that showing up every weekend is worth it just for a glimpse. The men want to be him, the women want to be with him.

Which is no problem for Jungkook—he can’t stand sleeping with the same girl more than once. He hates the idea of getting comfortable with someone. Prefers to spend the night learning their body and then never having to revisit it again.

The House Of Balloons isn't the House Of Balloons without Jeon Jungkook.

He loves it. The feeling he gets when he’s inside the walls of his house, shaking from the bass, his vision slightly warped from the white powder he snorts or the girl he’s picked from the crowd on her knees in front of him. He thinks it’s the best feeling in the world. Nothing compares. This must be what love feels like—the feeling people spend their whole lives searching for, all in the palm of his hand.

And just as deeply as he loves, his hate will always run deeper. Whether it be, losing, things being out of place or you.

Well, not you, exactly. He doesn’t give a flying fuck about you. But he hates people like you—those who come from money, stability, with a safety net waiting below them every time they slip. You just happen to fit perfectly into that category. Your fault, not his.

Jungkook was raised by a single mother after his father abandoned them and later died from an overdose. His mother worked two jobs just to afford food. At the age of nine, Jungkook lost her when she took her own life, leaving him to live with his grandparents. Four years later, they were killed hand-in-hand in a hit-and-run.

A life of loss and grief led him here. Right to the doorstep of the House of Balloons. Well, technically, it led him to Jimin.

Jimin and Jungkook met when Jungkook, desperate and hungry, tried to steal food from Jimin’s father’s rundown (but undeniably delicious) Korean BBQ restaurant. Jimin spotted him, made him a plate, and from that day on, they became inseparable. Best friends, partners in crime.

By the time they turned 17, they met Namjoon, a local cannabis grower. Joon, just two years older, promised them endless smoke sessions in exchange for Jimin convincing his dad to feed him. It was an easy deal.

The three of them started hitting up shitty house parties—none of them really any fun. More like places to find someone to empty themselves into, or, if they were lucky, find something lying around to steal and sell for some quick cash.

Half the reason they kept showing up at these parties was because Jungkook had taken a liking to the DJ’s music.

Hoseok, on the other hand, was practically begging people to let him spin at any party that was the spot for the night. He held onto the hope—maybe, just maybe, someone would hear his talent, and someone who knew someone would pull the strings to set him up for life. Hopeful, but desperate.

Jungkook had extended an invite to Hoseok to join them for a meal, wanted to convince Hoseok to teach him how to DJ. Wanted to be cool like him. Quickly realised he much rather listen to music than make it.

Then, two years ago, Yoongi entered the scene. He introduced himself at a party, and it didn’t take long for him to bond with Hoseok over music, with Joon over plants, and with Jimin and Jungkook over drugs and women. Jungkook and Jimin had initially planned on jumping him when Yoongi casually mentioned where he was from, but they decided against it after realising he was just as broke as they were.

The five of them, inseparable now, living in a rundown shitbox they somehow scored together with Yoongi’s last bit of cash. They threw their first party and it was everything they’d dreamed of. A hit. It stuck, became their thing. And so, every weekend after, the same mess, the same faces.

So, sue Jungkook for hating you and your lifestyle. Ungrateful for running away he thinks. Too scared to actually run away, is sure he won't have to see you again. If he has to see another pink dress shining in the crowd of monochromatics, he might just rip his own eyes out and stomp on them.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Jungkook is enjoying his night. Saturdays are always a little more chaotic than Fridays or Sundays—more people, more drama, more women, more orgasms.

He’s sprawled across his usual seat, the brown leather couch facing the entryway. He can see everyone who enters, eye the options, spot any potential danger, and catch the glittering pink that dares to stand out.

He’s listening to Joon dramatically rant to anyone within earshot about how some asshole swiped his bike last night. He’s convinced he’s going to track down the sneaky prick and shove the handlebars up their ass. He won’t, though. He’ll just steal someone else’s. The circle of life.

Jungkook’s half-hearted interest evaporates the moment he spots the door. There, standing like a spark in the dark, is a glittering nepo baby in a baby blue dress. Corseted at the waist, it flares just above her thighs.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Jungkook breathes out, the smoke from his cigarette swirling around his face.

Jimin and Joon, along with a few girls huddled nearby, glance over to follow his gaze. You. Dressed for a tea party with the elite, but standing here with the delinquents of Daegu.

“Round 2? More interesting than I thought.” Joon shrugs and goes back to rolling his blunt.

Jungkook’s eyes are locked on you, watching as you laugh and toss back a shot of vodka with Yoongi. His jaw is clenched, the cigarette burning down to the filter.

“Why the fuck do you care so much? About her?” One of the groupies, still trying to score a second lay from Jungkook after two weeks of failing, speaks up from beside him. “Did she reject you or something? Ignore her. It’s not like she’s here for good.”

Jungkook’s eyes snap to her, his brows pinched together. “Fuck you just say?”

She straightens up a little. She’s been begging for Jungkook’s attention for weeks, but not like this.

“No, no, I just mean… you seem worked up,” she stutters. “Maybe we could go upstairs? Not seeing her, focus on someone else—could help?” Her fingers run through the back of his slightly curled wolf cut, her voice laced with hesitation.

He scoffs, sucks his teeth, and elbows her arm away. "The only place I want you to be is somewhere not fucking around me. Fuck off."

"What? Jungkook, baby-"

"Fuck off."

And off she fucked. There was no point arguing or begging him to let her suck him off to show him how she truly didn't mean to upset him. That was never how it worked with Jungkook. Once his mind was made up about you, that was it.

“Bit harsh, J.” Jimin smirks, tossing him a fresh cigarette after the last one burned to the filter and put itself out.

Jungkook lights it up, exhaling sharply. “Be back in a few,” he mutters before walking straight through the sliding door, barely hanging on its hinges, into the backyard.

There’s less noise out here. He heads towards the back of the garage, which Hoseok had turned into a makeshift bedroom slash studio for his mixing.

Quiet. Less stuffy. The air is breathable—everything the opposite of what he usually craves. He blames you. You’re the one piece that doesn’t fit.

And it only makes him want to bring his clenched fist to his own face and knock himself out when he looks up from the ground and sees you standing in front of him.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[sosa2imagines]

I know where I belong. Part 1

----------------------------------------------------- Warning- Angst, This time we hate Steve 😭😂 ----------------------------------------------------- Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 ✅ -----------------------------------------------------

Thanos took a toll on all of you but thankfully everyone were back safe and sound. Everyone expect for Steve the love of your life. He had his dance and he did return back to you and his friends but something was off.

He was clearly not happy. You all thought maybe it is because of his journey to the past. For two days straight he was grumpy it went on onto the third day then on the fourth day things were different Steve came back to the tower in a happy mood. Everyone was curious as to why the captain is all of a sudden in such a good mood. That night he slept like a baby cuddling you and you were content that he is finally back to being normal. Oh how wrong you were! Since that day Steve would go out daily and come back with a satisfied grin that would last until he saw you. You were confused by his reaction but brushed it off not thinking much about it.

From the third week onwards he was rarely in the tower. Most of the times he would stay in his Brooklyn apartment. He barely spoke to you, he avoided you as much as possible. Nat was worried about you, she found it weird and you tried to cover it but she was having none of it. It killed you when he would talk to everyone except you, day by day you felt the distance between you both grow. Steve would sleep far on his side of the bed. His cold behavior was shattering you.

Having had enough you decided to visit his apartment. And that's when you found out why he was avoiding you, you were greeted by the view of Steve balls deep in Sharon who was making stupid weird noises and Steve moaning whatever he can. You were standing there numb tears flowing freely you gave them few more minutes before opening your mouth "are you done?"

Steve scrambled up to cover himself cursing while Sharon smirked pulling the sheets over herself. Steve cursed under his breath "Y/n it's not" "Don't you dare" "Let me explain y/n you we" "Explain" you cut him off gesturing to come straight to the point. "You were not supposed to find out like this" "Then how was I supposed to find out ROGERS!?" You yell at him making Steve flinch. "I was going to tell you" "How long Steve" "Y/n please" "HOW.LONG?" you spat each word. "After I came back, three days later I bumped into her and we just clicked, we talked about our past and, I'm sorry Y/n I'm in love with Sharon" You knew about their past, you also knew how she had left him after he had found her cheating on him on his bed. "She had cheated on you" you remind him voice small trying to control the urge to cry more. "She has changed I can feel it after all she is a Carter" You didn't say anything else just stood there staring at him and to his surprise you gave him a tight slap on the face even if it pained your hand. Sharon was quick to get up giving you a 'what the fuck' look and boy she had it coming you launched at her your fist colliding with her jaw and another breaking her nose. Once you enter the tower you walked as fast as you could in desperate need of air, hoping you wouldn't run into anyone as you dashed down the hall, your eyes trained on the floor, throat closing in on itself painfully, not noticing Tony looking at you in concern only for you to bump into Nat. “Y/n? what’s wrong?” You wanted to talk but you were struggling "He...he..How could he do this to me Nat?" You sob into her arms "Y/n calm down who did what?" Tony rushed to your side Nat looked at Wanda who was quick to read your mind she gasped "that bastard", thank god for her powers she made it easy for you, Wanda told them everything. "I should have known" Nat hissed. Tony and Sam exchanged looks. You were like a sister to Tony and Sam even though you were best friends and partners in pranks. Their blood was boiling not able to believe the golden boy lost his mind.

Wanda was hesitant to leave you alone in your old room but you begged her and she agreed not before making you promise that you won't do anything stupid. After she left you fell on the ground bringing your knees to your chest and you cried your heart out. All of your dreams crushed and thrown out the widow because all of a sudden he was in love with his ex.

Few days later when Bucky finally arrived from his vacation he was more than excited to see you, his bestfriend after Steve obviously. But when he entered the common room he was greeted with silence, he instantly knew something was wrong. He could feel the negative vibe. He saw Tony and Nat who were avoiding his gaze, he asked them if something happened but both were quiet not knowing how to tell him what his best friend did. But that did not stop Sam from opening his mouth, he told Bucky everything without any filter. Bucky was blanked he couldn't wrap his head around the fact Steve who was a shy kid would do something like this. Clenching and unclenching his fists Bucky was shaking. "Where is she?" "In her old room" Nat told him and he ran towards your room.

You were lost in your own world when someone knocked on your door and thank god you opened the door you were shocked eyes glossy and as soon as you whispered "Bucky" he was quick to hold you in his arms and you cried and cried in Bucky's protective hold.

----------------------------------------------------- (So here is the first part for the alternate version, I hope you guys like it and feedback as always is appreciated. Lots of love to you all, take care and enjoy 😊❤️) ----------------------------------------------------- Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 ✅ -----------------------------------------------------