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#` To Fade Away Waiting For The After
averlym · 1 year
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For the prompt thing can you do lina and jane w no.8?
If that's fine w you ofc
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(for context: prompt post can be found here)
i was unsure which no.8 you meant so i did,, all three,, anyways here is your very belated request, thanks for sending it in!
#the jane and lina. the jane and lina. oughhhhhh aramour brainrot strong today#thinking about how these could be read separately or could be seen as au-hopping alternate lifetimes schtick#and like? if i'm not wrong w my random tudor facts#jane seymour served as aragon's lady in waiting at some point#so that's kinda the context for the first one? like the crown is more crown than spikes here hm#ig the second one for angst would fall somewhere in the midst of a modernish au/fight idk#and the last one would be the version of themselves when they're actually in the musical#couldn't get it to be obvious bc of angle and whatnot! but i like to think that the book catherine is holding at the end is about/includes#the story of jane seymour's history. so like is that my book' bc it really is JANE's book yknow#and i like the thought that after lifetimes apart and spiralling in and away from each other they'd get a chance to catch up#and be friends? smth more? idk hehe#the idea of sort of soulmates bumping into each other throughout time and different lives only to get back tgt again at the end#they deserve soft. a rest i think.#kinda holds true for all the queens maybe. the way they all canonically came back and found each other#remeeting old people and having whatever relationship you have with them develop again i guess? lately i've been feeling a bit nostalgic#i'm peeling apart memory wisps and looking at them close while they fade away#oh right actual tags#six the musical#six the musical fanart#catherine of aragon#jane seymour#aramour#ask me stuff???
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lupaeusarc · 2 months
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slides my url in here
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SEND A URL AND I WILL ANSWER THE FOLLOWING :
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do i follow them ? :  absolutely 🤍 why did i follow them ? :  part of me wants to say you followed me first but i can't remember for sure lmao i know i saw nate and ruby on the dash a lot so if i followed first it was probably bc of them do we role play ? :  we dooooo do i want to role play with them :  YES gimme all the dynamics i'll make a separate spreadsheet for our shit alone lmao an au idea for our muses :  well em and simon are in one rn and i love it but another cool one for anyone really could be like a truman show type of thing where like they start figuring it out together as time goes on idk this is incredibly half baked but some kind of like fishbowl type deal a song for our muses :  the summoning by sleep token
do i ship our muses ? :  a thousand percent i love all our ships and plots so far :') what i think about the mun :  literally one of the coolest people i've ever met i'm ???? so scared of you lmfao like in a good way i just think you're an incredible writer and the love you have for your muses is so visible and obvious and the detail you put into every aspect of their back stories and everything is insane and just yeah i think you're the coolest 🙌 overall opinion :  just such an awesome set of blogs it's so impressive 🥹 blog rate : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10
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izzy being exhausted and falling asleep during his afternoon cuddle with ed, ed doodling on him with whatever is around (ink, charcoal, etc. colorful markers if it's modern). izzy wanting to be mad when he wakes up to find ed still drawing but some of them are kinda cute actually so instead he just listens to ed tell stories about each one
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theyheoftheapocalypse · 10 months
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putting up pictures of gerard way on the wall next to my bed like i'm away in the war and he's my girl waiting for me back home
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coredrill · 2 years
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the last 4 eps of ttgl is just. hey do you wanna Cry for 2.5hrs straight??? and the answer is always YES I ABSOLUTELY DO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
#i don’t consider myself to be attached to thw tertiary dai gurren members but when they start kickin the bucket i start leaking#ESPECIALLY IN THE SCENE WHERE THEY SAVE GIMMY & DARRY#like YES the movies are fun especially lagann hen but the last 4 episodes of the show are the pinnacle of perfect television imo#timing animation emotion themes EVERYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#the fucking. when team dai gurrens spiral power falls and it shows ttgl and the antispiral fighting above earth and everyones scared#EXCEPT ROSSIU who looks to the sky so determinedly and believes in simon (WHICH IS SO MUCH OF WHAT GIVES SIMON HIS STRENGTH!!!!!!)#(simon who has been able to pilot gurren lagann on his own for 14 episodes but who CHOOSES to have a copilot each and every time!!!!!!!!!!)#AND THEN SORAIRO DAYS STARTS PLAYING AND ITS TIMED PERFECTLY W THE DRILLS CLASHING AND W SIMONS ‘my drill is the drill#that creates the HEAVENS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!’ GOD IT IS FLAWLESS#not even in a joking way i’m being 100% serious for once. ttgl as a whole and especially these episodes are the closest i’ve ever come#to viewing a piece of art as perfect. i may have been 14.5yrs late but GOD i’m so fucking happy i found this silly drill show#also the last .5hrs of cry time is reserved for all the emotions that come from simon’s ‘the lights in the skies are stars……..#stars where our spiral cousins are waiting for us’ like i didn’t think it’d affect me as much this time around but i’m still crying over it#god. god i love gurren lagann.#a: ttgl#t.ttgl#GOD ALSO JUST REMEMBERED. after nia fades away and leeron comments ‘we had a lot of fun#didnt we?’ i fucking lose it bc YEAH. yeah i did have a lot of fun on this ride 😭🥲 thank you for letting me join in 💜💜💜💜
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spideyyeet · 3 months
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MELTING TASTE ☾
mma toji missed his lil popstar a bit too much ‪‪︎‬‪‪‪‪︎‬‪‪❤︎‬
tags — toji cums while eating pussy, unprotected, dry humping, touch starved, pussy drunk, needy toji, masturbation, squirting, fingering, somnophilia,
notes— links are informational NOT nsfw links! OPEN THEM!
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toji hated overseas matches. the long flights, hotels, new restaurants, none of it bothered him all that much. but now it did. especially when he’d have to see your face plastered everywhere. billboards, magazine, ads—yet you’re not here.
pup :p: does this look nice??? be honest bc i fr don’t know if i like the set😵‍💫 like does it work for the first song?!????
*video attached*
toji audibly groans, why do you do this to him? you were getting ready for another concert right now, while he’s hundreds of miles away, looking at you twirling around in the first outfit of the night.
tojii <33: i see your panties…
pup :p : it’s a body suit….
pup :p: u literally didn’t answer my question😑
tojii <33: the colors work.
pup :p: 😐
tojiii <33: 👍
incoming FaceTime call from PUP :P
toji squints after accepting the call. the sudden noise and bright light from your dressing room, illuminates his face as he lays back in his quiet hotel room.
“tojiii does it look okay,” you burst, talking fast as you bounce around the screen showing him every single angle of the dress. toji didn’t realize how much he missed you until he heard your voice again.
“i answered you already, baby. it looks good,” he sits up a bit, resting an arm behind his head, as he looks over your outfit.
“you gave me a thumbs up,” you snark, leaning forward squinting into the screen, making the man laugh. “I can’t even see you, it’s dark—“
toji doesn’t say a word, but reaches over and turns the bedside lamp on. your face immediately perks up.
“you’re so cute, listening to me so quickly,” you gush, making toji roll his eyes. fucking tease.
toji understands you’re a popstar. shiu was even surprised to see how well toji assimilated into your life. he didn’t mind checking your outfits, or taking naps in the studio as you learned new dance choreography. vice versa, you pounced around the gym like a ray of sunshine. the other fighters were scared to approach you at first. you were very intimidating, always cold and edgy on stage, but the moment toji came over to you after a training match, your eyes went bright. absolutely melting when toji interlaced your hands bringing it up to his lips to kiss the back of it.
since then the men in the gym were immediately drawn to you. sitting with you as you waited for toji, all of you watching the man train for another match. you fit perfectly.
“give me a spin, baby,” he smiles, and you immediately bounce up and give him a spin. you were too easy for him. not even noticing how you listen to every word he says too.
“isn’t it super nice. the hickey here faded too,” you lift your black skirt to show him your plush thighs, lifting your leg up as your hand smooths over the skin of your inner thigh. “utahime was upset how much time it’s been taking to cover up your marks.” your fingers dance on your squishy thighs, only reminding toji of how long it’s been since he’s been able to wrap his arms around your legs as he buries his face between your legs.
“I’ll mark you up the second i come back, don’t worry,” toji clicks his tongue as you drop the skirt to lean forward so he can see your face closer, and that little twinkle in your eyes.
“I’m not worrying, i know you miss me. you don’t have to say it.” god you’re such a fucking tease.
“how many pictures have you sent me?” his scar twitches into a smirk as he sees you avert your eyes for a moment.
“that’s like…so different,” you blush, remembering how much you missed him. you’ve been sending photos of yourself, followed by a voicemail yesterday of you sighing his name. toji almost punched a wall — he was out on a run when you’d called and he wasn’t there to pick up.
“you like bouncing around on stage showing off for so many people?” his question had your lips curling as you adjusted yourself, making it obvious the way you lean forward so he can see the tops of your tits.
“ya it’s really fun. love the attention so much,” your voice is low, dragging each word with a knowing grin. tease. “you know how it is…”
toji cursed under his breath. it almost made him bust remembering how intense you get on stage. you absolutely adore your fans, and you outdo yourself each concert. after going to a couple of your concerts, toji never wanted you to go alone.
“are you wet already, princess?” toji adjusts himself, trying to ignore the stir in his shorts. because he did not need to remember how absolutely stimulated you get after concerts. always throwing yourself on him afterwards.
your elbows are resting on the counter as you drag your finger across your bottom lip, tongue peaking out to lick the digit before biting down.
“lemme see,” toji touches his scar with his tongue as his legs spread a bit watching you stand up. “lift your little skirt up for me,” he smiles watching you obey. your lacey black body suit had him clenching his jaw. “show me.”
his words sent another warmth down to your panties. “you’re so needy, toji,” you laugh.
“I’ll end the call,” his breath choked for a moment, suddenly realizing what he’s doing, your cheeks flush.
toji always told you how jerking off is something college kids do. he’ll only send you videos of his hard dick after a match, but usually when you call him already touching your pussy, toji just talked you through it, not really doing much with himself. his instructions on the phone shameless, not caring at all that his team was around as he worked out in the gym overseas.
“did you spread your legs nice and wide for me princess?” he’d grunt as he lifted a weight.
“mhm,” you whimper.
“good girl,. now lick your pretty fingers fer me.” you listen and give another confirmation. “now rub yer clit—“
“but toji,” you hesitate, a little upset that he’s not telling you to finger yourself.
“you were sending me pictures all day with your pussy leaking through your panties. Dont be fucking greedy now and expect anything else inside your hole than me. so be a good girl and make yourself cum with your clit or I’m not fucking you when I come back.” toji drops his weights, sitting up as he waits for you to answer.
“you’re so mean,” you frown, finally obeying him. toji never really understood the whole sexting thing before you started dating. he was only six years older than you, but sometimes he was just so out of loop it made him feel older than twenty-seven. still he didn’t mind it. smiling when he’d answer the phone to hear you coo his name.
in other words, toji has always been very composed. at least, he liked to tell himself that. but recently the only thing on his mind in the morning is, you. when he goes to sleep, you. when he’s working out, you. when he showers, you!
“are you jerking off?” your words sent another groan from the man. he couldn’t control himself anymore. remembering the video you sent last night of your wet pussy on display after a concert. now talking to you on the phone and the adrenaline of his match tomorrow…
“fuck, keep talking to me, princess ,” his shirt was pushed up, abs on display as his hand moved up and down, tugging on the thick girth between his legs.
“I thought you said jerking off was for college kids, huh? not as mature as you thought you were,” you giggle, purposefully ignoring toji’s broken grunts and demands to show your pussy. “nuh-uh, you can cum just from my voice. cmon big boy, you’re doing so good already ❤︎‬.”
“fhuck y/n,” toji drops his head back. “keep talking,” your legs closed, almost whining because you wanted to see his cock so badly. how hard was he? how big did he look?? you wanna see the full view of your big scary boyfriend jerking off before a big match because his pretty little girlfriend isn’t there to satisfy his needs. but he kept the phone angled to his face. the flush on his cheeks, the veins on his neck—
“wanna fuck yer pussy, baby, ngh, need you fuckin’ cummin on my dick,” toji grunts, chest rising as he tries to mimic the way you jerk him off. but it’s so different. he didn’t have your soft pretty hands. the squeezes you’d give his base before moving up to run your thumb on his slit teasingly. the way you’d run another hand to fondle his cum filled balls. the cute pout you’d give him as you suckled on his fat tip.
he loved when he’d be working out with you in his private gym, and you’d come over as he’s doing bench presses.
“don’t,” he’d always warn, quickly placing the bar back just as you pull his shorts down, kissing his tip.
“it looked so cute pressing up,” you coo, smiling up with the most obvious smirk. minx.
“ffuck y/n/n,” his jaw clenches, breath uneven as he edges closer and closer.
“gunna cum all over yourself? cmon, you’re doing so good,” you praise, “you miss me, toji, ya? ya?”
“fucking…tease,” toji jerks his hips up as his cock shoots his load on his chest, some hitting his face as he groans. his chest heaves as he continues to tug on his fat dick. absolutely annoyed that he had to do that, just because of how much he— “miss you baby.”
your heart stops.
yes, you’ve told toji a million times how much you miss him. even when he’s here and he’s been gone all day and visits you later, you’ll be dramatic and throw your arms around him and tell him how much you missed him. letting him pet your head as he continues walking to the kitchen with an arm wrapped around you.
“tojiiii!” your heart is squeezing. toji wipes the cum of his face as he gives you a soft smile. a smile he only ever shows you.
“have a good concert tonight,” your heart is beating so unbelievably fast. how can this fucking dick just say the most downright vulgar ass shit as he jerked off then be a cool headed adult a second later.
“I will! don’t act all composed,” you scoff, but toji can see the flustered look on your face. “and I wanna see your dick, please…please,” your whining has the man rolling his eyes. moving his phone down so now you can get a view of his hand covered in cum still lazily stroking himself as a few droplets oozed from his tip down the bulging veins.
*pup :p took a screenshot*
“delete th—,” toji stops when he sees the drool coating your lips. “how wet…”
“a lot,” you whimper, embarrassed how horny you are right now. toji feels his cock twitch at the desperation in your voice.
just then your manager, utahime, comes running in, yelling at you about how long you took to get dressed.
“kay toji, bye bye!”
toji sighs as he drops the phone, head falling back as well, not before looking down at his chest. whats gotten into him?
the sounds of the cheering could be heard down the long halls. toji was loosening his muscles as shiu held his phone for him.
“is he angry?” you cringe as you speak to shiu.
“well—“
“not angry,” toji snaps, practically seething. the videos of his opponent literally spitting on his chest as they walked into the stadium just minutes ago, already having gone viral.
toji. was. pissed.
you and shiu exchange looks.
“deep breaths, baby!” you cheer on the other line, sitting on the couch in the living room, the match already on the tv as your cat snuggles in your lap.
“I’m taking deep fucking breaths, baby.”
“take more!” you huff, shiu cringing as he sees the vein in his fighters head start to throb. “just loosen everything up. don’t forget to watch for this guys left. he goes really hard! and he’s really fast to lock you from behind. oh and he has that dirty move that he does when…” your rambling just went on, shiu’s heart was beating a bit faster as he debated whether to hang up now, or wait for toji to blow up from your—
“got it,” toji stands up. you smile brightly, hands balled in fists as you cheer him. shiu thought he knew toji better. the man was always a ticking time bomb before matches. the sudden outbursts and yelling seem to have been cooled just by calling you, for gods sake, you weren’t even here!
“you got this!” you shout, clapping and whistling as your cat meows at your movement. toji holds his phone now, winking at you.
“gonna put on a show fer ya.”
your cheeks flush at his words, heart skipping a beat, as you clap. “you better!” you lift your cat up to the screen. “we’re cheering you on!”
toji clicks his tongue, a thing he always did before ending a call making you smile. your eyes glued to the tv screen now.
your heart was beating so fast, squeezing the pillow and leaning forward, standing up and falling to your knees. you were always dramatic watching his matches before, but now you’re even more invested…and nervous. cringing at the blows he’s taking. your hands clasped together as toji spits blood.
he always looked unbelievably cool during fights. your eyes lighting up when he dodges like he’s some action movie villain. the way his blows look so powerful and definitely hurt like shit. “you got this, you got this,” you’d mumble over and over. pulling at your teeth as toji spat more blood.
however, the second his opponent fell, you were already screaming loudly, startling your poor cat. but that wasn’t it, because the camera men and reporters were flooding the cage as the referee held toji’s arm up.
“what an amazing match toji! you’re basically on top of the world right now! what’s the first thing you’re going to do after this?” the reporter shoved the mic in front of toji as his chest rose and fell, still high on adrenaline.
“heading back home,” toji answers. his answers always curt.
“that quickly!? we’re gonna miss you here! you’ve spent months training for this match, as we’ve seen, is there anyone you’d like to give a shout out too?” the reporter was smiling brightly. usually toji was snark with his comments, but he seems a bit more laid back now.
his eyes shift away from the reporter and towards the camera. his scar tugging up gently. your heart skipped a beat….
“like the show, baby?”
toji’s smile had the entire stadium fainting. women screaming, because oh. my. god. never….never in the history of this man’s professional career, has he shown such a smile. a smile that melts every single heart. a smile that makes men fix their pants, because it’s just so precious. so rare.
but not for you.
your cheeks were flushed as you laughed at your man. you missed him, but your heart couldn’t help but beat a little faster because he’s such a fucking sweetheart. even if it’s the smallest ass things, he makes them bigger because you know he cares when he does them. he’s such a fucking tease. especially that wink he sends at the camera, just for you.
the stadium was cheering loud, by their fighter’s wink. shiu and the rest of his team had to pick their jaws off the ground because they’d thought toji was about to reveal your relationship.
“it seems like people were split walkin’ in here, but we know they’re all walking out being your fans!” the reporter laughs. “thanks again for speaking to us and putting on an amazing match as always!” toji does the unexpected and bows his head very curt and short as a courtesy to the reporter.
shiu and the rest of the team immediately flood toji, because that’s the best way to end an amazing match. it’s better to get toji out now before other reporters start to bother him and ultimately tick him off and set another headline of toji loosing his cool.
you lay on the couch eyes growing heavy as you watch the cameras shift around. some catching toji heading to the locker-rooms. then cutting again to the reporters. then back to toji as he heads out.
you don’t notice how much toji’s been influenced by you. but shiu and the guys know how much, even if it’s the smallest shit. especially now when toji doesn’t brush past fans that are reaching over, instead leaning over very brefily, allowing them the chance to snap a pic before he continues his walk to the car.
“you’re so funny,” you laugh over the phone, already tucked in bed, tired from your own long night, and staying up to catch his match live.
“was sending you my regards,” toji laughs, leaning his head back on the seat.
“when does your flight land?” you ask, reaching at the space next to you. “I’ll pick you up.”
“will you now?” toji hums.
“i will. I’ll be incognito,” you laugh to yourself, toji hums. the rest of the conversation fades as you slowly fall asleep. what you didn’t know was that toji did in fact book an earlier flight. touching ground exactly a night later.
he was completely exhausted. he needed to sleep. the door clicking behind him as he dropped his suitcase and bag at the door step. dragging his body up the stairs as he discarded his cap, sunglasses, peeling off his sweater with a small groan, still bruised up. finally reaching his destination and slipping into the shower.
his eyes brushing over your hair products scattered in your own little shelf in his shower.
he steps out, drying himself off as he heads to the sink, seeing all your products around as well. your own clothes in his hamper too. your tampons under the sink as he grabbed a lotion.
slipping a loose pair of shorts on, he finally walks into the large wide bedroom overlooking the city. the moonlight illuminating his most precious person sprawled on his bed. for the amount of times you whine about not knowing how to sleep in an empty bed. you tend to sleep right smack in the middle all stretched out on your tummy, taking every bit of room there is to offer.
his large body lifts the covers up, easily dipping the bed as he sinks into the warmth you’ve created. his body easily pressing into your back, arm running up your exposed leg as he hugs and arm around your waist, pressing his face into your neck, inhaling your natural smell.
“missed you,” he sighs, easily falling asleep. the warmth consuming him. your presence lulling him deep. he needed you with him always.
toji wakes up the next day to you still fast asleep right in the middle of the bed. he rolls over, hugging you again, his lips kissing your neck. your body radiating warmth as he continues to let his hands roam around. you’re so cute.
definitely jet lagged, but not minding at all that he woke up before you. it gave him the chance to memorize your face all over again. so pretty, your lips parted as you took even breath. your lashes kissing your cheeks as the sunlight paints your skin a nice glow.
he missed you so much, kissing your cheek again. his eyes scanning down your body, seeing that you’d push the covers down to your thighs. his chest swelled with warmth as he noticed you wearing his big sleeved shirt and your small yellow shorts.
his knuckles were cut and digits were rough making your skin feel even more soft. he needed more. fuck, he needed to taste you so badly. his hands continued to move up, until his fingers hooked around the waistband and carefully peeled your shorts off.
“slutty princess,” he coos under his breath. no panties. you were still stretched on your tummy, shuffling a bit at the breeze in your sleep. unconsciously pushing your ass out and spreading your legs only showing off your cute lower lips.
he missed you so much. he couldn’t help but let his hand spread over your ass, thumb coming down to feel the warmth of your pussy lips. rubbing your slit as he thumbed your hole. you were adorable.
toji let his mouth press kisses on your hip, your thighs. his arms easily sliding you to rest on your back as he slipped down between your legs. he ignored the stir in his shorts because he was finally where he’d been dreaming about for days. he was honestly surprised that he’d gotten through the match after only jerking off. usually he needed some good fucking for a couple hours, but after he started dating you, it’s become easier to only think about having you when he sees you again.
fuck. his mouth is already watering at the sight. your scent only drawing him closer. lazily resting his face against your pussy. tongue sticking out as he takes a lick up the soft skin, his hand spreading your legs further apart.
it was almost like a trance, the way his tongue swirled through your slit, body trembling when he began to feel your wetness start to ooze out of your small hole.
half lidded eyes dark, sucking your small clit, his body heating up excited to get your clit all big a puffy again. his arms wrapped around your thighs as he began to feel you stir more and more.
the only thing on his mind was having more of you. laying flat on his stomach, hips grounded in the mattress as he pants and drools.
“ah,” the small whimpers you gave in your sleep had his dick straining uncomfortably. you were beautiful. your essence has him melting . his fingers couldn’t help but slid your his shirt further up until he could see your pretty tits, cute nipples perky as your lips opened with sighs. his big hand groping at the flesh, humming as he got even more worked up.
his eyes would occasionally close in bliss as he became greedy and was taking long laps of your pussy, nose rubbing against your clit until he’d come up and suck the bud between his teeth.
“toj…” his sleeping beauty absolutely blissed out in her sleep had his leg flex, pressing his hips further down on the mattress as he rubbed himself with each lap he took of your pussy. he needed you to cum, he needed to have you coat his mouth.
your eyes fluttered as you felt an overwhelming sense of relief sweep through your body as you gave a small whimper. body trembling, suddenly feeling the body between your legs. your eyes teary from the morning and sudden orgasm that you’d thought was a dream.
“you’re so cute,” you sigh, rolling your hips up to meet his lips as he rubbed your soft thighs, squeezing the flesh. you flashed a cute little smile, eyes tired from sleep. your fingers running through his dark hair, pushing it back to see his cut brow and bruised cheekbones. “tojii, say something?”
he groans, pulling away for a moment, lips and chin shiny as he sticks his tongue out to touch his scar. “hi, puppy.”
your stomach flips. his cheeks were flushed, his face bruised and some stitches covered in bandages. he was so fucking hot. your heart skipped at beat when he even gave you a little smirk.
“hi,” you gush, petting his head as toji dives back into your pussy, groaning.
“fuck how’d you get even more wet, baby?” he grunts, sucking and lapping harder. “did I make you like this? you miss me that much?”
you fist his hair, whining as he selfishly continues to eat you out. your legs starting to close around his head from the overstimulation.
“pup,” his voice is low, his grip tightens around your thighs, suddenly feeling his teeth sink into your inner thigh. a yelp escapes your lips.
“toji!” you pull his head back, seeing the deep marks on your thigh.
“keep yer legs open,” he practically growls, your heart beating a little quicker. his mouth opens as he goes back to your pussy. “so fucking messy,” he slurps, groaning as he rocks his hips into the mattress.
your back is arching off the bed, eyes cloudy as toji holds your legs open, not caring how much your body is trembling, or the squeals you give out.
your sweater is bunched over your tits, Toji occasionally looking up to see your blessed out face and pretty tits perk up as you hump your sloppy cunt on his face.
“give it to me,” toji pinches your clit, eyes running dark as he sees the full body jump you give, nails digging into his shoulder and hair as you cry.
“it’s too much—to—ji,” you’re rocking your hips meeting his greedy mouth as he lets you desperately hump his face, fingers holding the hair above his head trying to push and pull him closer to you.
his eyes were turning cloudy, senses only focusing on how good you taste, the slippery feeling of his tongue running up and down your slit, swirling around to tug and tease your clit, before running down to push his tongue into your wet pulsing hole, feeling how desperate you are clenching around him. he loved this feeling, god, he needed more attention—
toji was suddenly groaning into your pussy. eyes falling back into his skull, his grip tightened around your thighs, leaving dark marks as your body trembled at the unexpected vibrations.
the fighters eyes were dazed. he pulled away for a second to catch his breath, but the moment he did your stomach went tight, pitch rising as you squirted on his face. he blinked in surprise, head still hazy as he instinctively pressed his thumb on your clit, holding it up as he latched his lips around to clean you up, still groaning lazily.
“too much,” your chest was heaving as you pushed his head away, legs trembling. your hands falling to your chest, calming down. however, toji was awfully silent.
he pressed his face to your thigh, giving them slow kisses…pretty unusual for him. he usually gives you a kiss after eating you out, saying he wants you to taste yourself…
“what time did you come back?” your fingers brush through his hair, his head resting on your tummy as his muscular back rises and falls.
“around 4ish,” he looks up, your cheeks flush at the mess on his face. you couldn’t help it, suddenly cradling his face in your hands as you sit up to kiss him. he hums in surprise, opening his mouth as you whine at the taste. you were so needy even after he smothered his face between your legs…well maybe he was doing that more for himself—
pushing him to lay down, you continue kissing him, your fingers running across his exposed abs, careful not to touch his injuries. your hand inching closer to the waistband of his shorts, playing with the material, excited to feel the hot weight in your hand—
“let’s take a bath together,” he holds your wrist, stopping you.
“mmm, okay,” you mumble, smiling against his lips as you try to move your hand, but he doesn’t let go.
“you didn’t miss taking baths together?”
“i didddd, but i wanna touch you,” you’re all pouty.
“always fucking whining,” toji feels you struggling, as you try to move around.
“I’m being nice,” your brows pinch. “I’m trying to reciprocate your kindness—ah ow, toji,” you hate when he manhandles you at the worst moments. pinning your wrists to your sides as he hovers over you.
you whine even more, until you notice the very obvious wet patch in the front of his shorts and a certain bulge pressing out.
“did you…cum?”
his breath hitched. your eyes flip back to his face, noticing the deep flush running across his cheeks. “you did—“
“y/n, wait!—“ however your foot is already hooked around his waistband pulling the material down his hips, your eyes blowing at the load he spilled in his shorts. he didn’t even wear boxers! his cock was still hard, but it was drenched in his cum, his tip oozing still…
“you came right now?!” you couldn’t help but be shocked, even as he buried his face in your neck, his hand letting go of your wrist to fall over your eyes instead.
“fuckin’ zip. it,” he practically growls in your ear.
you bite your cheek trying not to get excited, which you couldn’t even explain.
“you missed me that much?” your fingers rack through his hair, his hips falling closer to your heat, groaning under his breath as his wet sticky cock, laid across your pussy, his body so needy to rock his hips, humping your sloppy cunt. “you’re cumming your pants, and jerking off cuz of little ol me?” you really were a fucking tease.
“what did i fucking say.”
toji snaps. you barely had time to blink before you felt your body flip and your hips getting pulled back. “forgot about that fuckin attitude of yours.”
“what attitude?! you’re the one that’s all worked u-uhhn ahhh toji!” your eyes roll back into your skull. toji thrusts his full big fat length deep inside your tummy.
“arch it, fuck, like that,” his big hand soothes down the arch of your back, knowing exactly where to press down to have your legs spread even more as you grasp the sheets, the sudden fullness had you seeing stars. “good. fuckin. girl. just needed my dick to shut you the fuck up.” he hisses at how tight you’re clenching around him.
“still sucking my dick like a virgin,” he groans, hearing you only moan into the sheets. tears getting soaked up as your moans get muffled by the blankets. he doesn’t usually run his mouth during sex, but this morning he can’t stop it, each word being met with a merciless thrust. your pussy sucking his entire cock, squelching at his own cum and your juices mixing. “just like that….take it, like a good—fuck.”
your jaw went slack as drool dripped down, eyes fluttering with unshed tears. you almost forgot how full he made you. he’s so big. you could feel him so deep in your tummy, hitting your sweet spot over and over. his grip on your waist has you seeing stars.
“getting lazy babygirl?” he gives a mean slap to your ass. “don’t tell me ya didn’t miss me?” you whine shaking your head.
“no! i missed you!” you almost cry, pushing your ass back meeting his thrusts letting the fighter grown, giving your ass another slap watching your cheeks slam back into his thick thighs. the sight of his fat cock stretching your pussy, sliding your mixed cum to the base of his cock with each thrust has him giving your ass another slap. “uh fuuck, missed your dick so much! tojii missed you inside me, missed you so much!” your eyes were crossing, you could feel the slick dripping down your thighs as your head got dizzy. your moans turning into muffled squeals.
“pup,” toji litters your back with kisses, biting down and leaving bruises. his instinct was overwhelming, claiming your love again. your desperate cries as he pressed his palm flat against your tummy, feeling how deep his dick was. “you’re so warm, baby,” he groans into your ear, making your body tremble, hand reaching out, nails digging into his thigh as he continued fucking you. finger running down to your clit, pinching it just to be mean.
“what did you say, pup?”
you hated when he played with you, knowing full well that you got so fucking stupid after not having his dick for awhile.
“y-you…uh…” you were surprised that you could still form thoughts that could come out of your mouth right now. “you came…mmh…ah…ah-a lot….like a college kid.”
his jaw snaps.
“fucking. brat.”
your eyes blew wide. the sharp thrust he gave, arms spreading your cheeks, angling his hips on an angle, immediately sinking himself deeper into your hole pushing your cervix until you were seeing stars!
you. were. fucked.
“you still with me, sweetheart?” the distant voice felt miles away. your eyes rolling in your skull. you felt like you were walking on clouds. the soft shake slowly had you blinking. toji gently tapping your cheek, waking you up.
“mmm to..ji..” you coo, voice slurred as he hums, brushing your sweaty hair off your face.
“fucking scared me,” he mutters, more to himself, lips catching yours as you kiss him, arms hugging his shoulders, not fully clocking anything that happened.
toji had been drilling you so hard even after your body shot out another orgasm, wetting his thighs, all he did was go harder. fuck all that pent up energy and longing he had, was spilling out in waves. his dick was still hard as he slid you onto your side, pushing your leg up and sinking his cock inside again.
your eyes were cloudy as you drooled, opening your mouth for him to give you sloppy kisses, his spit entering your mouth as you grasped the sheets beside you.
after pushing you into another orgasm, and him reaching another climax as he pumped you full of his heavy thick cum. your mind was so dizzy you completely knocked out from the pleasure.
you were still sprawled on the bed as toji coaxed you back awake.
“didn’t know my princess can faint from her pussy squirting too many times,” toji rubbed your tummy as you buried your face in his neck.
“fuck off,” you grumble, toji bursting into laughter. arms circling your back as he cooed. “don’t pretend like you didn’t shoot a load from eating me out.”
toji went silent, pulling away. your hand fell over your mouth, cackling.
“where’d ya get that mouth of yours from?” he tsked, sitting on the edge of the bed, arms behind him as he looked at you. you sat up, crawling over to brush over the nape of his neck. his head tilting, body accustomed to the action. your pretty nails racking through as you kissed his jaw.
“I’m playing…it’s quite flattering,” you coo, toji hums in sarcasm.
“I’m sure it is,” he sighs, letting you play with him, once again, so very used to your wandering hands. letting you feel the mess on his abs, his semi resting between his big thighs, all manspread for your nails to feel the wet pubes as you kissed down. his hand brushing your back as he kneaded your cute fat ass.
“I guess you like my pussy that much…I mean does that mean you always cum after eating me out?” his eyes fall heavy. “don’t worry, you can eat me out any time, just don’t go around making messes everywhere—“
“you know what,” toji was tackling you in the bed, covering your mouth because this was too embarrassing now, his cheeks so very flushed. you couldn’t help laughing because his cock was heavy once again, giving his cool head away.
when he ran off to the bathroom, beyond flustered, you came a couple minutes later as he was showering. your arms circling his strong torso , lips gently pressing into his back.
toji didn’t like to think too much, especially when it came to you. he just let it happen. but if there was a third party there, they’d obviously question how toji has always hated people getting attached to him, he hated it even more when women would poke at him. however, when it was you, it barely made him shrug. it simply rolled off his back like it was nothing because it was you.
even when you made yourself at home in his penthouse. leaving clothes and products behind. sleeping in his shirts, and using his boxers as shorts around the house, it was fine.
toji has “dated” before, but this was something special. especially when his heart eased sinking into bed with you, or the way his body relaxed when you stepped in the shower with him. he enjoyed feeling your body press against his. he liked your fingers roaming around.
“toji?” your soft call had him hum in response. you gently moved around, so you were standing in front of him, your finger running up to touch his cheek. “kiss me.”
he listened.
yes, toji is listener…only for you.
his lips melting with yours. panting as your fingers wrapped around his length, pumping his big cock. fuck, he missed your hands so much. your thumb swiping his leaking tip, your tongue playing with his as he held your jaw. you smiled when he had to pull away, head tilting back, jaw clenching as you sank down suckling his tip before taking in his dick.
his abs flexed as he leaned against the shower wall, the water cascading down his broad shoulders, his other hand running down to hold your head, trying to fit more of his cock eyes fluttering at the weight in your mouth.
toji’s cum was oozing out of your pussy, only causing you to cum your pussy, desperate to keep him all inside.
toji hums, rubbing your head, soothingly, as he watched his cum shoot into your inviting mouth. petting your head as you sucked some more warm cum from his tip like a pacifier. you continued sucking his cock, making him groan as you milked even more cum from his dick before he had to lift you up, kissing you again and again.
“it’s leaking,” you whine, all pouty as toji notices the mess coming from between your legs.
“you desperate for my cum, puppy?” he taunts, especially when your brows pinch at his teasing.
“fill me up, more,” your cheeks flush, as he chuckles, letting your hand try to push his cock back inside you.
to say you had a long shower was an understatement.
toji came down a few minutes later to see you already perched on the counter drinking coffee as you waited for your waffles to come out of the toaster.
toji came between your legs, kissing your lips as he rubbed your thighs.
“shiu called ya,” you hold his phone in your hand. “he said something about a modeling gig next weekend,” your brows were trying not to pinch together as toji hums, grabbing the waffles that’s popped out.
“forgot about that,” he hands you a waffle.
“it’s for Calvin Klein…” you almost have a scowl on your face. toji raising a brow.
“you gonna spit it out?”
you huff, “well like, you’re not a small size, I’m pretty sure if anyone sees you in boxers they can make out your whole fucking dick.”
“thanks,” toji grins, only making you frustrated. “so you gonna tell me your jealous, or….”
link 1 // link 2 // link 3 // link 4
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hi, I purposely put less links and made them obvious at the end just to make it easier for y’all to get through them! Please click and share it! There’s also a link at the beginning of the fic so go back and watch that one if you haven’t!
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theawfuledges · 7 months
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i love non-sexual intimacy and astarion having no bloody idea how to handle it, so of course i couldn't resist writing 3000+ words about it. enjoy!
let the pulses run (astarion x gender neutral!reader, baldur's gate 3)
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Astarion waits for it. Expects it.
A beseeching glance, a teasing smile, a flirtatious remark. Hells, even an outright proposition - he can’t quite imagine you pulling it off, but at least it would be something familiar. 
And yet - nothing.
Well, he amends as you settle beside him before the campfire, perhaps not nothing. 
“How is it?” you ask, a solemn slope to your brow as you take in the wound on his arm. A lucky shot from a rather unlucky goblin, who’d received your rapier to the gut for his troubles. 
“Oh, this?” He raises his arm, nonchalant. The wound had stopped bleeding, but it wasn’t a pretty sight. “Barely a scratch, darling.”
Your brows furrow. Liar, they say. 
“You’ll need blood.” You take a second glance at his arm and grimace. The scent of iron clings to the air. “A lot of it.”
Astarion tilts his head, allows a few silver curls to fall artfully across his brow. You track the movement, though your gaze is quick to dart back to his own. He fights a smirk and loses. “Astute, aren’t you? Yes, I’m afraid I’ll need to do more than my usual share of feeding tonight to fix this mess.”
You say nothing in response, not at first. He wonders if you’ll actually say it, or if you’ll hem and haw yourself to death trying to free the words from your tongue.
“If you truly have need of it,” you begin, reaching up to touch your fingertips to your throat. The mark from his first feeding had long since faded, but you remembered where his fangs had struck. 
“How generous!” Astarion exclaims, a little touched despite himself. It took a certain amount of fortitude to offer yourself to a hungry vampire, after all. “If you’re certain - “
You don’t answer with words, merely tilting your head and baring your throat to him. Astarion longs to draw out the suspense, tease you with the anticipation of his bite, but that furrow hasn’t left your brow and he finds himself unwilling to add to your worries. Besides, his body cries out for the meal you’ve so graciously offered, practically rejoicing as he lowers his mouth to your throat.
There’s a certain… intimacy to be had during the act of feeding, he’s learned. Not so much in the bite itself, but in the aftermath: the pull of precious blood, the quickening of a pulse, the flush of warm, living flesh. 
Astarion has never felt the like, not until he first drew blood from you. To know that this is what he had been missing for all the centuries he’d spent feeding on vermin makes his hatred for Cazador climb higher, though he pushes thoughts of his former master far from his mind before they can truly take root. He will not think of his tormentor here, not with you. 
You draw in a breath; it sticks in your throat, your pulse beating like a drum in the back of Astarion’s brain. He can smell your skin, the sweat and blood from your latest battle mingling with the scent of sweetgrass and rainwater, the scent of you, light and sweet against the back of his tongue. 
He can smell more than that. Unease and pain cling to you like a film while he feeds, but beneath that, clinging to your flesh like a limpet, he finds what he’s been searching for - the familiar musk of arousal.
Well, then, he thinks victoriously, feeling a shiver work down his spine as your blood coats the back of his tongue. There’s all the proof I need. 
He had wondered if your lack of amorous advances had been due to disinterest, but no. The body doesn’t lie, and yours was basically singing, crying out its need with increasing frequency the longer his fangs remained buried in your throat.
So then why? Why did you flit away from his advances like a rabbit evading a predator? He knew what you wanted and had no qualms about giving it to you. It would cement your trust in him, bolster your growing bond. Your union would be advantageous to you both. 
He’s so consumed by his thoughts that he doesn’t notice your hand moving until it’s braced against the back of his neck, your palm warm against his skin. He waits for your signal to move away, hungrily swallowing another mouthful of your sweet blood in case it happens to be his last, but all you do is reach for the riot of curls at his nape and pass your fingers gently through them. Once, twice more, until you’ve built up a steady rhythm.
It feels… well, it feels rather nice, actually. It’s far from the first time someone has ever run their fingers through his hair, and yet your touch feels… lighter in comparison, unweighted by sensual delight or a precursor for greedy lust. You’re not touching him in anticipation for more - you’re just… touching him.
It confuses him so greatly that Astarion finds himself pulling away before he’d truly wished to, feeling more than a little bereft when your fingers slip from his hair and land, half-curled still, in your lap.
“That will do, darling,” he mumbles, pushing himself to his feet. It’s a good thing the blood loss has dazed you somewhat, or else your eagle eyes would have quickly taken notice of the bewildered expression upon his face. “A boar or two will more than suffice for the rest. You should sleep, while you’re able.” His nose wrinkles, and he can’t help himself from adding, “But perhaps bathe first.” 
Your eyes narrow at the thinly-veiled insult, but you push yourself clumsily to your feet and head for the river flowing near camp. “Keep your eyes about you while you hunt,” you call to him over your shoulder. “There may still be goblins about.”
He doesn’t know how to tell you that goblins - and hunting, for that matter - are among the last things on his mind. He merely watches you walk away, his fingers creeping to the thatch of curls you had so gently carded through, and wonders what the hell he’s supposed to do with you now. 
Your growing affection for him remains more than apparent as the days pass. You’re devoted to finding a cure for the parasites that writhe within your minds and playing savior for everyone you meet along the way, but in the moments between - slivers of time carved out for rest and respite - you gravitate toward Astarion, leaving the vampire torn between petty satisfaction and growing confusion, because you simply refuse to acknowledge his increasingly thinly-veiled offers to fuck you. 
It’s ridiculous. Madness, really. The number of conquests under his belt had grown too numerous for Astarion to recall, his expertise in the art of seduction unmatched, and yet you remained unmoved by his every attempt. Oh, you would flush, your eyes would flit about as though you couldn’t bear to meet his gaze, your body itself would sway towards his like a tree bough rocked by the wind, but still you would play at ambivalency. 
Astarion might be inclined to believe himself incorrect - a rarity, to be sure, but stranger things have happened; that your reaction to his bite was merely a result of the intimacy of the act rather than any true desire you might hold for him, and yet your behavior afterwards serves to lay that theory quite soundly to rest.
You’ve become quite… tactile, with him, as of late. A bracing hand on his shoulder whenever an enemy’s attack knocks him off his guard, elbows brushing whenever you’re gathered near the campfire, even a rather memorable moment where you’d brushed his curls free of his brow late in the night, your hand hovering in the air between you and a bewildered expression writ across your face, as though shocked that you’d actually done it.
It’s driving Astarion mad, wondering what could possibly be going on inside that skull of yours. The thought of tapping in to the tadpole’s power just to catch a glimpse passes swiftly through his mind, but to his eternal chagrin, knowing somehow feels more daunting.
Besides, he’s… curious. Curious as to what you’ll do next and how he may react to it, and so he doesn’t ask you to stop. You would, if only he were to indicate a dislike of your touch, and yet to do so would prove the vampire a liar, for he finds that he actually quite enjoys the fleeting brush of your fingertips across his brow, or the firm, comforting weight of your shoulder against his. 
Gods, what has he gotten himself into?
He ponders his plight late into the night, until his eyes slip closed and he’s confronted by another new pressing issue - nightmares of his former life and dear old master, memories of previous torments and casual cruelties assaulting his mind from every front. 
Astarion twists upon his bedroll, fingers spasming atop his chest as Cazador flits through his mind like a phantom. Sweat beads on his temples, leaving his curls damp. Fear bubbles through his blood like some molten creature.
“Astarion.”
He awakens with a shout, his dreams clinging to his mind for another awful moment before their claws finally release him. You’re the first thing he notices as soon as he’s set himself to rights, kneeling by his bedside with a discomfited expression upon your face. It had been your voice, then - yours, not Cazador’s - that had called out to him, broken him free of his agony. 
His lips try to twist into their customary smirk, but fall short of the goal and tremble instead. He presses them into a firm line. “Apologies, my love,” he murmurs, grimacing at the drying sweat along his brow. “Did I wake you?”
You shake your head. “I had first watch,” you explain. Your hand twitches at your side. You want to touch him, he realizes. Reassure him. By the gods, with the way he’s feeling right now, Astarion might actually let you do it. “Are you alright?”
“Wonderful,” he bites out, reaching up to push sweaty curls free of his brow only to find that you've beaten him to it, your fingertips callused and blessedly cool against his skin. The urge to swoon like a damned maiden is nearly overwhelming, and yet Astarion resists, only allowing himself the luxury of closing his eyes and indulging in your touch for a few brief moments. 
“Nightmare?” Your voice is low, dreadfully soothing. Keep talking, he thinks, pushing his brow into your palm. Don’t make me do it.
He hums in the affirmative. Your fingers drift to the crown of his head, smooth through the flattened curls at the base of his skull, and rest there, holding him. 
“Cazador?” The name sounds like a curse on your lips, and might as well be for all the vitriol you spew it with. 
Astarion’s lips twitch. It shouldn’t thrill him, the ire you hold for a man you’ve never met, but he knows it’s there simply because its bearer has caused him harm. You’re protective of those you hold dear. 
“The one and the same,” he mutters into the curve of your shoulder, having allowed his chin to rest there while your fingers curled around the back of his neck. You smelled of embers from the fire and the sweetness of the cool night air, and Astarion breathed deep, soothed by the scent. 
“What do you need?” It’s a gentle query against one pointed ear, and for a moment Astarion stares beyond your shoulder, beyond the camp, all the way to Baldur’s Gate and Cazador’s cold, cruel gaze, waiting for his return. You’re silent, patient for his response, and in that moment Astarion is certain that you would give him anything, if only he would ask. 
He could ask for you - for the distraction that your body would provide this night, and you would give it to him. You would trust him with it. 
He can see it so clearly, the rapture of it driving the echoes of Cazador’s voice from his head. But he can see the aftermath, too, and your disappointment when you realize that it’s all he can truly give you, and only because he knows of no other way to be. 
“I don’t know,” he murmurs into your shoulder, and it’s the truth, for all the good that does him. 
He feels you nodding, feels your cheek resting against his hair, feels more than hears you say, “Let me know, whenever you figure it out,” and listens to the faint beat of your pulse until his dreams seem like nothing more than misshapen fragments, unimportant, without teeth. 
Something shifts between you then, or perhaps it’s more appropriate to say that something settles. His machinations cease, insomuch as he stops trying to manipulate you into bed, though teasing you with ill-concealed innuendo remains a habit he can’t quite shake. 
You’ve promised to help break Cazador’s hold upon him, and judging by the sharpness in your eyes whenever the subject is pressed, you’re determined to uphold it. 
You care about him; of that, Astarion is more than certain. He sees it in the way you look at him, feels it in the touches you bestow. He hears it, your pulse as clear to him as the warmth of the blood in your veins. He’s earned your trust, your affection, your protection. And you’ve earned his. 
How could he keep it from you, when you’ve not only unearthed his past but vowed to help him escape it? How could he guard himself against you when he’s seen that fire in your eyes, watched you wield it against that vile drow who’d called him a thing and urged you to allow him to bite her?
Astarion shudders at the reminder. If it had been Cazador in your place, he would have taken the offer without thought, without care for Astarion’s comfort. But not you. 
It had angered you - not just the drow’s request, but her flippant disregard of Astarion’s autonomy.
“Astarion is his own person,” you had said, practically spitting the words through gritted teeth. “And he said no.”
You were still angry, by the looks of it, if your gritted teeth and flashing eyes were anything to go by. 
“Are we going into battle?” he calls out, catching you as you’re about to stomp by.
You jerk to a halt and give him a look, completely confused. He bites back a laugh.
“It certainly seems so, judging by your face.”
“My face?” You reach up as though to check, and this time Astarion does laugh, a soft huff that seems to startle you, but also leave you looking incredibly, undeniably… fond. It’s… well. It’s a nice look on you.
“You’re angry,” he explains, reaching over to rub the furrow from your brows. You go cross-eyed trying to watch him, and another laugh bubbles from his throat before he can stop it.
And ah, there’s that fondness again upon your face. He feels warm beneath that look, full, as if he’s freshly fed. 
“I am angry,” you murmur, drawing closer. “Her ignorance, her arrogance - it infuriated me.”
“Obviously,” Astarion quips, lips twitching as your mouth twists in annoyance. He allows the humor to drain from his tone before he continues, a touch more solemnly, “Thank you. I appreciated that.”
Your head tilts. “What did I do?”
Astarion huffs a breath, astounded by your obliviousness. “I spent two-hundred years using my body to lure pretty things back to my Master. What I wanted, how I felt about what I was doing, it never mattered.” The memories, though old, are fresh, and he does his best to shake them free of his mind. This isn’t about that. This is about you. “You could have asked me to do the same, but you didn’t. And I’m grateful.”
“I never would,” you return, and your words are firm. Resolute. You need him to believe them. “It wouldn’t have been right, forcing you to do something you didn’t want to do.”
“You’re the first to think so,” Astarion murmurs. “The first not to make me feel like something to be used and discarded.” He had still been living as though he was exactly that, he realizes. Still a puppet, a pawn to be ordered about at his master’s whim. But that wasn’t who he was, anymore, and he would never be that way again. You would aid him in making sure of it, and not simply because he’d seduced and manipulated you into doing so. You would do it because you wanted to. Because you cared. 
Because you were his friend. 
“Thank you,” he repeated, a lightness to his shoulders that he hasn’t felt in centuries. 
You stare at him, throat working for a moment as if you don’t know what to say in return, and he smiles. Silly thing. 
But then you’re stepping forward, a determined glint to your eye, and Astarion is left with no other recourse than to gawk over your shoulder as you wrap both arms around him. Your cheek comes to rest against his shoulder, your chest settling warmly against his, and Astarion - 
Astarion crumbles. His arms come up to wrap around you, gingerly at first, until he hears your sigh - a soft thing, sweet, happy - and then he’s squeezing you against him, brow falling to your shoulder.
Gods, when was the last time someone had embraced him like this? He wracks his mind and still fails to recall a single moment where he was gathered so close without an ulterior motive to facilitate it. 
He doesn’t want to let you go. It’s an intimidating thought. A terrifying thought. And yet the terror doesn’t make it any less true. For the first time in centuries, he wants - he actually wants something, just for him, just because.
He wants you.
It would be easy for the fear to consume him, then, fear that this will crumble to dust beneath his hands like so much else, and yet you won’t allow that terror to seep through. It can’t, not with your arms curled so sweetly around his waist, your smile tucked against his shoulder, your pulse a soothing beat in his ears, assuring him without words that he had been right all along.
You want him, too. 
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povlnfour · 3 months
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ੈ✩‧₊˚ BEACHED! (OP81)
pairing: oscar piastri x f!reader
summary: after oscar saves you from an embarrassing accident on the beach, you accidentally go viral
warnings: cheesy humour, chaos
ੈ✩‧₊˚ oscarpiastri just tweeted
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ੈ✩‧₊˚ yourusername just posted a photo
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liked by danielricciardo, logansargeant and 98,002 others
yoursername shout out to australia, especially to the random dude in orange who saved my life from prematurely ending (note: waves in australia are brutal stay away if you can't swim)
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yourbsf NO FR SHOUT OUT TO KING I WAS TOO BUSY LAUGJING AND TAKING PHOTOS
yoursername I NEARLY DIED Y/B/F
yourbsf i was too busy giggling! your dream boy and first time he's seeing you is nearly drowning
friend1 Y/N DO YOU KNOW WHO THAT IS (6)
yoursername an australian?
user IS THAT OSCAR???
user oscar in papaya even on the beach… i fear he has no other clothes
user WHAT IS GOING ON
user NOT ME SEEING OSCAR TODAY AFTER HE SAVED A RANDOM GIRL FROM DROWNING?!?!
yoursername who tf is oscar
oscarpiastri hi! random dude in orange here
yourusername UM.
ੈ✩‧₊˚ twitter reacts
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ੈ✩‧₊˚ dms with oscar
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ੈ✩‧₊˚ yourusername just posted stories
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[captions:
1. treated the tour guide to lunch :)
2. note: don’t let an f1 driver drive the golf cart if you value your life. moments before i nearly died (again)]
ੈ✩‧₊˚ yourusername just posted a photo
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liked by oscarpiastri and 76,408 others
yourusername live evidence of the moment my tour guide turned on me
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user UHHHH
user oh so now they’re hanging out… i smell love at first sight
user NOT HIM DIVE BOMBING YOU????
oscarpiastri HEY i saved you again as well🙄
yourusername AFTER I SWALLOWED LIKE A GALLON OF WATER
friend1 @/yourbsf where were you during this murder attempt
yourbsf honey they don’t even know i’m here
ੈ✩‧₊˚ oscarpiastri just posted a photo
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liked by landonorris, danielricciardo and 224,517 others
oscarpiastri best way to get used to the aussie waves is to just go for it☀️
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user okay when will an f1 driver save ME from drowning and fall in love (and then try to drown me on two other occasions)
user hahaha i think they’re just friends
user GIRL ^ look at what he just posted dedicated to her and tell me he’s not already obsessed
yourusername please stop trying to end my life i have a child at home
user UM
oscarpiastri a dog. she has a dog.
ੈ✩‧₊˚ yourusername just posted a photo
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liked by oscarpiastri and 103,228 others
yourusername australia i am in love with your food, your weather, and certainly your people. i can’t wait to come back one day🤍
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user ‘and certainly your people’ 🥹🥹🥹
user i knew she was only on holiday but why am i legitimately sad she’s leaving?
user why am i crying for people i don’t know
user is the shirtless man in the bg of the third oscar😳
oscarpiastri don’t be a stranger🧡
ੈ✩‧₊˚ texts with oscar (1&2) and your best friend
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yourusername puppy therapy
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user no oscar in the likes again :(
user he’s so fluffy
user my heart aches so bad i want her back with oscar
user no fr i’m hoping that they can meet up when he’s travelling again :(
yourbsf coming over for a cuddle (with you and charlie pup)
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replies…
user why do i feel like this is about y/n…
user i hope they still talk :(
user with the way they’ve been posting i don’t think they do :(
user sending you love oscar. you’ll smash next season🧡
user something definitely happened
user im guessing just summer romance that fizzled out now they’re both busy :(
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mclaren pre-season testing underway✅
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user did anyone see the interview he did on f1’s page?
user no what happened?
user they asked him about his winter break, and his smile faded so fast :/ then he just said he did a bit of exploring and moved the conversation on so fast
user god they. really fell for each other huh
user mclaren you have an opportunity to do the best thing. invite y/n to one of your races and reunite them please
ੈ✩‧₊˚ an email from mclaren
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mclaren a special home race for oscar with even more special guests🇦🇺 #OP81
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user IS THAT… IS THAT CHARLIE PUP. IS THAT Y/N.
user DID MCLAREN TAKE OUR ADVICE
user IS IT FINALLY HAPPENING ARE MY LOVES REUNITING?
user IM HERE RN AND SHES DEFINITELY IN THE PADDOCK
user FOR REAL? HAS OSCAR SEEN HER?
user NOT YET BECAUSE HE’S BEEN IN PRACTICE SESSIONS BUT THEY FINISH SOON
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yourusername who said fairytales aren’t real
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user OH MY GOD ITS OFFICIAL
user i would like to thank mclaren
user why am i crying. i don’t know these people
oscarpiastri and in all 100 versions of the story, i’d always choose you
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oscarpiastri i guess i was the real race winner after all
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user THE CAPTION IM SOBBING
user can’t believe y/n went from nearly drowning to dating the internet’s boyfriend
yourusername can’t wait to have my life threatened by you for years to come
oscarpiastri okay nearly backing over you was an ACCIDENT
mclaren you’re welcome😉
landonorris when is it my turn
mclaren challenge accepted…
landonorris NO NO NO I TAKE IT BACK
————
a/n: HIHIHI i hope this lived up to expectations omg. the snippet for this went crazy but i don’t know if this is good EEK
huge thank you to EVERYONE for all the love in my inbox and comments recently, i’ve had so much fun writing these smaus so it’s been great to see everyone’s thoughts🤍
this will most likely be my last one shot posted before christmas with not funny (didn’t laugh) being my first post afterwards, so i want to say a huge merry christmas to all who celebrate!!
and finally. thank you for 800 followers!!! merci du fond du coeur. ça représente beaucoup pour moi🤍🤍🤍
- giselle / zellie / gigi / elle / gi i havE SO MANY NAMES
taglist (found here): @iluvvmeeee @champagnelovers101 @alessioayla @idkiwantchocolatee @skatingiswalkingincursive @six-call @he6rtshaker @hobiismyhopeu @tallrock35 @sunflower-golden-vol6 @woozarts @minkyungseokie @vellicora @tsukishitm-a @lucyysthings @treehouse-mouse @iloveyou3000morgan @gwginnyweasley @hetfieldd @sweetbabygirlsworld @wittywhispers
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prythianpages · 1 month
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I've Been Waiting For You | Azriel
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summary: Azriel finally meets the one he's been longing for. His mate.
warnings: mentions of death (since the suriel & reader are friends); some angst but also fluff because Az deserves to be happy ♡
a/n: This is part of my ABBA x ACOTAR series (masterlist) where I dedicate a song to a character (: The lyrics kind of reminded me of Alice & Jasper from twilight and how she had a vision of meeting him. This does go back and forth a lot in the beginning between past and present and came out longer than I thought it would. It's 9.6K words (which for me is long lol.) I apologize if there are any spelling errors. I've read this multiple times but somehow, always miss a couple.
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As the moonlight dances upon the water's surface, the river transforms into a liquid ribbon of silver, weaving through the city of Starlight. Anticipation fills the air as Azriel walks across the bridge that spans the Sidra, his massive Illyrian wings glistening in midnight hues under the pale moonlight. 
Shadows play hide-and-seek as they travel through the night, drawn to the silhouette of a female figure. An intruder. Yet, Azriel's shadows dare to whisper something different into his ears.
“I’ve been waiting for you.”
Your voice, carried by the wind, reaches him like a sweet caress, daring to awaken something deep within him. Beautiful. His shadows respond with a frenzy, a whirl of darkness singing wild tales into his ears, urging him forward. Meanwhile, his brain screams at the potential threat.
More tendrils of darkness dart toward you, ignoring their master’s orders to return. You don’t seem bothered by them. In fact, you seem to welcome them as if they’re old friends of yours. 
Azriel swallows, uncertainty flickering in his eyes, unsure what to make of this. 
“Who are you?”
Finally, you turn around and Azriel feels like the wind has been knocked out of him when his gaze meets yours. In the midst of the surrounding darkness, your eyes gleam with an inexplicable brightness. Specs of silver glimmer in your eyes, mirroring the stars above, as they shine back at him.  
“That’s for you to decide,” you reply with a smile that carries both hope and a sense of knowing as you follow after him and take a step forward.
“But for now, I’d like to speak with your High Lady.”
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Months before…
The brilliance of a thousand stars shine down on you and the night seems to hold its breath, as if it too, awaits the whispered prophecies from the celestial expanse above. Like always, you are itching to unveil them with your finely attuned senses. A gust of cool wind brushes through your hair, sending shivers down your exposed skin. Pulling your gaze away from the night sky, you turn in time to see a cloaked figure approaching like a shadow in the night.
Your lips curve into a smile. “Hello, friend.”
“y/n.” The Suriel greets you, hovering beside you. Then, not missing another beat, he says, “I told her Rhysand was her mate.”
Your eyes widen in surprise, a gasp escaping your lips. “You did not.”
“I did.” He grins back at you, flashing you his stained teeth.
You can’t help but laugh a little at your dear old friend. The Suriel lets out a rattled sound you discern as a laugh as he joins you. Always the one for dramatics. You still remember hearing about his first encounter with Feyre Archeron and how he told her to stay with the High Lord.
“I told her she must stay with the High Lord.”
“Did you specify which one?”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
“I’m sure she handled it well,” you respond but your smile fades, giving way to a wistful expression. “She’s lucky. Not only is she made but the Cauldron has blessed her with a mate. The High Lord of the Night Court at that.”
The weight of his gaze settles upon you. You’re aware that your words carry a tinge of envy, a sentiment that feels unjust when considering everything Feyre has endured. The Suriel, ever perceptive, acknowledges this as well. He chooses not to remind you and indulges you instead.
“The Cauldron has blessed you as well, my child.”
“Have you seen it?”
Hope sparks in your eyes as you turn to face him. His eyes, pools of ancient wisdom, seem to pierce through the veils of time and secrets. You sense one of them unfolding. But he only gives you a teasing glimpse.
“Perhaps.” 
With a furrow in your brows, you lift your head back up to glare at the night sky. The stars seem to blink at you in a teasing manner, as if finding amusement in keeping this secret from you. 
“How come I haven’t seen it?”
“You will soon.” He reassures, following your gaze upwards. A dance of amusement swirls within the depths of his eyes.  “He’s waited centuries for you. Count your stars lucky that your waiting won’t be as long.”
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Back to the present…
Velaris lived up to its name. A dream compared to the horrors of the city you grew up in. But as the city sparkles and comes to life at the darkening hour, all your attention is drawn to the male before you. He’s even more breathtaking in person. Everything about him is classically beautiful and the moon seems to agree, shining down on him and casting an ethereal glow on the golden-brown of his skin.
As Azriel continues to approach you, his wings fold gracefully behind him. His gaze is locked onto yours and though his eyes are cautious and analytical, there’s a warm shiver running down your spine. The desire to lose yourself in the hazel depths of his eyes becomes an irresistible pull.
Before you know it, the shadows brushing against your arms rise and come to rest against your eyes in a blindfold. Darkness engulfs you, and the sensation of weightlessness takes hold as Azriel winnows both of you. You land on a soft cushion–a chair. The dark tendrils leave your eyes and wrap around your wrists and legs, binding them together.
“Stay here.” Azriel says, the shadows wrapped around your limbs tightening in a silent warning.
A chuckle escapes from you and when your eyes meet his again, you flash him a mischievous smile. It widens when he’s the first to fold, quickly averting his gaze. He has no clue. You’re exactly where you want to be.
He leaves the room and your eyes finally take in your surroundings. Veiled curtains made of midnight blue silk drape the expansive windows, pulled back to allow moonlight to filter through. Shelves line the walls, housing collections of ancient artifacts and magical trinkets. A large desk, crafted from dark, polished wood rests before you. Your gaze fixates on the wall behind it, where a captivating portrait of the female you seek rests.
The door behind you swings open, and you turn to witness the graceful entrance of the female from the portrait. Feyre, the Cursebreaker and High Lady of the Night Court. She's a vision of night and beauty, her golden-brown hair cascading down her exposed back, revealing glimpses of moon phases etched along her spine.
“High Lady,” you say in greeting, bowing your head in respect.
Surprisingly, the High Lord doesn't accompany her. Instead, it's Azriel who trails behind her. Her calm blue eyes assess you as she takes a seat across from you. Azriel stands guard behind her and you feel his shadows watching your every breath. 
"And who might you be?"
“I’m y/n,” you respond, choosing your next words carefully. “An old friend of the Suriel’s. I’ve come to pledge my allegiance to you and offer my help.”
Something flickers in her blue eyes at the mention of the Suriel and her stoic expression falters, if only for a moment. You send her a sympathetic smile, your own heart aching at the mention of the fearsome creature you both held dear.
“Your help?” She echoes.
"She’s a seer," Azriel interjects, his voice setting your heart alight as there's no hint of disgust or apprehension in his tone.
Your kind is often regarded with hostility. He might not know your connection...yet. But he’s paid you enough attention to recognize your abilities and appears to be indifferent about them. If the Suriel were still alive, you know he’d laugh at your slight delusion.
"I am," you confirm. "And I know your sister is one too." You don’t miss the tension in Azriel’s body at the mention of the cauldron-made fae, but you don't dwell on it as you can also sense Feyre's protectiveness. "She has great potential. I can help her hone her skills. Together, we can—"
"No," Azriel growls protectively. His sharp interruption has you startling in your seat and hope deflates as you feel the intensity of his glare.
Feyre raises a hand, signaling him to stand back. “Why should I trust you?”
“Let me show you.”
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Months before…
“By the Cauldron, what did you get yourself into?”
The Suriel grins mischievously, his tattered cloak barely clinging to his bony form. He graciously accepts the cloak you offer, a luxurious piece made of the softest velvet in the darkest shade of black you could find. A purr escapes him as he revels in its warmth. "Nothing," he responds coyly, the satisfaction evident in the bounce of his form as he hovers in the air.
You shoot him a pointed look, yearning to know what he was up to. You’re certain it was no good. “Sure,” you retort and then gesture toward the crackling fire you started. “I also made dinner.”
“You spoil me.”
“It’s what friends do.”
"Friend," he muses, the white pools of his eyes burning into your soul, as he turns to you. "As a friend, I should tell you that your dress is absolutely atrocious on you. Cobalt blue is more your color."
With a glare, you playfully throw the roasted chicken over the fire at his face. He effortlessly catches it with his mouth, cackling as he chews on the tender piece of meat.
"What do you know about fashion? All you do is thirst for robes."
“You forget that I am older than the bones of this world. I know everything about everything. I also cannot lie.”
"Doesn't stop you from hiding the truth," you respond cheekily, and he hums in agreement,
Silence falls as he seats himself beside you on the ground. He breaks it a couple of moments later. “Remember what I told you last time?”
You release a deep sigh because you do remember. The mere thought haunts you nearly every night, and you’re often burdened by the heavy weight of it. Your shoulders slump in response. “Why can't you do it yourself?”
“It is your fate, not mine,” he states simply, a reminder of the immutable laws of destiny.
“I’m not ready.” 
You don’t think you ever will be and suddenly, you’re that fragile sixteen year old again, who had to run away from the only place you called home to escape a cruel fate. The one who was left to navigate through her new onset of divine abilities alone.
That is, until, the fateful night you had thrown your cloak over a tree branch to dry. It had been stained by blood after a rough and almost deadly encounter with a stray naga so you had spent all morning cleaning it in the river nearby. Completely unaware of the Suriel you were summoning.
“You do not fear me?”
“That is mine,” you had said through clenched teeth with a deep rooted glare.
In the midst of your tug of war with the Suriel, your cloak tore in half. In that moment, you braced yourself for the dark creature's wrath. However, something in you captured his attention that day, and he chose not to unleash his fury upon you. He decided to take you under his wing instead.
He recognized your lineage without a single word spoken about it. He could sense your power coursing through your veins, waiting to be unraveled. After decades of patience and practicing, he was there to witness the formation of stars weaving themselves into the depths of your eyes. The mark of your seer abilities.
As always, the Suriel reads you like an open book. He can sense your insecurity, your hesitancy. But, in equal measure, he can sense your power, your potential.
“You will be,” he insists, his words carrying the unwavering certainty of the all-knowing creature he is. “You must guide and open the eyes of Elain Archeron the same way I did for you.”
Your throat tightens. “When?”
“Soon.”
And when you look up to gaze at the night sky, the stars align for you. A cascade of visions unfurls, pouring over you like a celestial waterfall. Your eyes become a myriad of galaxies and ears are teased with glimpses of conversations and whispers from the stars above. One moment, you’re in a forest, standing before a female figure crouched over a cloaked one. 
“The tracking…I knew of it.” 
Then, a rattling breath. “Leave this world a better place than how you found it.”
Abruptly, the scene shifts, and you stand in an enchanting city of starlight, gazing at the expansive river before you as anticipation fills the air. He comes for you. Azriel, the shadowsinger. The name resonates in the echoes of your mind.
Then, the final vision envelopes you, drawing you into the depths of mesmerizing hazel eyes. The voice that accompanies it is carried by the enchantment of night, gently caressing against your ears. 
“I’ve been waiting for you.”
Mate. That is your mate. Azriel, the–
“Do you see it now?”
With a sharp intake of breath, you’re pulled from the downpour of your visions, only to find your senses clouded with tears that pool at the corners of your eyes. How cruel, you think, your heart twisting in agony. And though meeting your mate–your fated companion–was among your greatest dreams, you no longer want it. Not if it means you’ll lose your greatest companion.
You can live without knowing your mate. After all, you’re doing so at this very moment. The Suriel has been your friend for decades. Two souls brought together by their mutual loneliness. An all knowing creature and a seer. Together, you’re a powerful duo, navigating through the fated intricacies of Prythian. You’d be lost without him.
“Please don’t go,” you’re begging.
The Suriel smiles but it’s not his usual mischievous grin. This time, a tinge of sorrow lingers in the curve of his lips, casting his expression in a veil of sadness.
“I have to. It’s my time to go,” he says. “Just promise me one thing?”
“Anything.”
“That when it’s your time to shine, you’ll find Feyre. Help her make this world a better place.”
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Back to Present
Feyre blinks back tears as she withdraws from your mind. She turns her head toward the Shadowsinger behind her, and for a moment, fear grips you. You allowed her to see the revelation of Azriel being your mate but only because it was deeply entwined with the other pertinent visions.
“Release her.”
The shadows release their grip on you and you let out a deep exhale in relief. But the inky tendrils don’t leave your side. They linger and hover over you and at this, Azriel’s eyebrows furrow.
Feyre extends her hand out toward you. Her blue eyes are warm, a gentle reassurance that she’d harbor your secret for you. A smile graces her lips, one that you're happy to reciprocate.
“I’ll gladly accept your help but let me speak with Elain first. You may stay here. There’s a spare room upstairs. Azriel will show you around.”
Following his High Lady’s orders, Azriel shows you around the grand estate. He’s a bit reserved around you and you don’t blame him. Both a blessing and a curse, your visions offer insight into his world, yet you're a mere stranger imposing on the family he protects fiercely.
And as he finally shows you to your room, the one right next to his, you can only hope that someday, he’ll welcome you too. After all, he is your mate.
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Elain Archeron is infinitely beautiful. Inside and out. She is gentle and sweet and you see why some mistake her kindness for weakness. But it took only days for you to become well aware of the strength and power she harbors deep within.
While your abilities were limited to what the stars wanted to show you, you sensed that hers were limitless. With the right training, she could summon visions at her call, anticipate anyone's move. You wanted to help her achieve that and prove those people that saw her as something fragile wrong. Though reluctant toward your help at first, Elain was kind enough to listen to you and consider the advice you gave. It took some further convincing but you knew she was itching to unravel the depths of her powers too.
But it's proving to be a challenge. A hard and exhausting one. You're not surprised. It took you many years to become attuned to your powers. What is surprising, however, are Azriel's feelings for her. They're obvious and plain to see and could you blame him? Elain is wonderful...and you can't help but compare yourself to her. She's everything you're not.
Upon your arrival, you had been set on making Azriel fall for you. That was, until, you realized he was already entangled in the threads of another's heart. Could it be that the Suriel, in his all knowing wisdom, purposefully shielded you from such revelations about your mate? To delay the shattering of your dreams?
Now, you were just content to focus on your task at hand. To help Elain the way the Suriel did with you, even if Azriel was there as a safety net for her every session. Even if the way he was well attuned to every shift of her expression sent a sharp pain stabbing through your heart. He was blissfully unaware of your connection, clouded by his affection for Elain.
And you were tired of chasing after males. It's why you shot down Feyre's suggestion of confessing to Azriel. You dreamed of having a mate, pleaded to the Cauldron even. Now, you realize, that you want Azriel to like you for you. To chose you too the way Feyre did with Rhysand. If Elain was the person he chose at the moment, then so be it.
"I don't chase. I attract," you told Feyre. The same words you had uttered to the Suriel years ago after he poked fun at you over a failed romance. One of many, unfortunately.
"The only thing you'll attract with that attitude of of yours is a dark cloud of shadows," The Suriel had laughed at you, earning an icy glare from you.
But Feyre is much nicer about it than your dear old friend. She gives you an encouraging smile instead and wishes you luck on your upcoming session with Elain.
Your session with Elain ends terribly–with her screaming in pain and Azriel glaring at you and telling you to go, despite your attempts at apologizing. You spend the following days, weeks even, trying to make up for it. You slowed down in pace in your exercises with Elain, despite her protests. She held no animosity toward you at the dark turn that session had made.
You also buried yourself into any book you could find about seers in the magnificent Night Court library, grieving and longing for the Suriel. He would know what to do, and know exactly how to help. It’s the mere thought of him that fuels your determination to keep trying, despite how much you want to leave. It’s laughable almost, how in the midst of so many people, the sense of loneliness weighs heavier on you than it ever did in the solitude of Prythian's forests.
But perhaps, a break wouldn't be such a bad idea? You think as your gaze lands on an intriguing cover. It's a work of pure fiction. The ideal escape from reality. Retrieving it from its shelf, you settle into one of the plush chairs and immerse yourself into the words etched onto the pages.
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“Wake up, sleeping beauty.”
A nudge against your leg startles you awake, and as you blink away the remnants of sleep, your eyes widen at the sight of Azriel standing before you. Sleeping beauty, the words sink in, painting a soft blush over your cheeks.
“You missed dinner.”
“Oh.”
You turn your head, wincing at the dull ache in your neck from sleeping in an awkward position. The soft glow of the moon greets you through one of the library's windows. You don’t know when you had fallen asleep but you must’ve been out for hours. When you face Azriel again, your gaze drops to his hands, where he holds a carefully arranged plate of food. Your stomach growls as the scent hits you and your eyes linger on the generous serving of potatoes–your favorite–in comparison to the other vegetables and meat.
“Is that for me?” you ask, and immediately curse yourself for the seemingly silly question. You blame it on the lingering grasp of sleep, still reluctant to release its full grip on you.
"No, it's for the rats that come out at night," he replies, lips twitching upwards at the reaction it stirs from you. How the Suriel never scared you but a couple of hairy, smaller creatures do is beyond you. He places the plate on the small table beside you.
 "Yes, it's for you. A peace offering. For snapping at you."
"That was two weeks ago.”
"Bet you didn't see it coming," he teases, and you find yourself blinking in surprise. The Shadowsinger cracking a joke? It's a sight to behold. At least for you. 
Your eyes narrow. "Did Feyre send you?"
"No," Azriel replies simply, his tone carrying a sincerity that sets a flicker of hope alight in you. He then sighs. "I just realized I haven't been the most welcoming, that's all."
You smile in response and shift in your seat as you turn your body towards the food. The movement has the book in your lap falling. His hand reaches the book before yours could and the brush of your skin against his sends a delightful shudder through your body.
His eyes curiously look over the title and when he hands it back to you, you take note of the way he avoids looking at his scarred fingers. So you reach forward and brush your fingers against his again, letting them linger for a beat longer than before. Surprise flickers in his hazel eyes as he meets your gaze, but it vanishes as quickly as it appears.
“That book is one of my favorites," he says, his shadows dancing across his shoulders and peeking curiously at you. "I'm surprised you're into the mystery genre."
"Why?"
“Well, you’re hard to read sometimes. Like a mystery that refuses to be solved.”
An arched brow is your response, but the gleam in your eyes gives away more than you'd like. “Maybe I don’t want to be unraveled.”
Azriel's lips twitch upwards once more. “Maybe it just takes the right person.”
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Bathed in the glow of sunlight, you and Elain sit across from one another on the soft bed of green grass. Meanwhile, Azriel leans against a tree, a couple of feet away. His gaze is intense as he watches you two. Too focused on not letting it faze you, you fail to catch the way it softens when he turns to you.
Azriel can’t help but frown when he catches you avoiding his gaze. He wonders if you still harbor some resentment toward the way he had snapped at you awhile back, even though he already apologized for it.
"Close your eyes and focus on your breath," he hears you instruct softly. "Feel the rhythm of the earth beneath you. Attune yourself to the heartbeat of the world around you. What do you hear?”
Elain closes her eyes in deep concentration. “I can hear the wind and the tremble of the grass beneath it. I can hear the wind carry all the way to the sea.”
“Good,” you say and though her eyes remain closed, you smile gently at her. A gesture that sends a rush of warmth through him.
“Now feel the whispers of the unseen.”
“I can’t.” Elain’s eyebrows furrow.
“Here, take my hands,” you say as you reach for hers. “Imagine a pool of water within you, calm and reflective. Use me as a vessel to carry you through it. I’ll guide you to where your visions will manifest.”
Elain does as told. The world stills around you two. You close your eyes. As Elain’s eyebrows relax, your own face contorts in concentration. Azriel feels himself tense when he realizes it’s not concentration etching onto your face–it’s pain. In a heartbeat, he’s kneeling before you and prying your hands apart.
“Stop!”
Your eyes snap open at the sudden disconnection, and Azriel is unsettled by the way you shrink back from him, panic widening your eyes.
“I’m not hurting her!”
But it’s not Elain he’s worried about. He hasn’t even spared her a glance. It’s you–you’re the one that’s hurt. Blood trickles down your nose and he’s urging you to lean forward, gently guiding you with his hands as Elain rushes for a towel.
“Are you okay?”
There’s a dull ache in your head but also one in your heart and you’re too disoriented to stop yourself from saying, “If you stop staring at me like that, I will be.”
Azriel releases a soft chuckle, his muscles relaxing in relief at the playful edge in your tone. Yet, his shadows, wanting to confirm you're okay themselves, flutter toward you in a delicate cloud of darkness.
"Like what?”
“Don’t make me answer that.”
And you’ve never felt more relief at the sight of Elain coming in between you with a towel in hand.
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A sudden sound has you stirring from your sleep. Your hand instinctively slides under your pillow, fingers grasping for the dagger you always keep with you when sleeping. The sound comes again and your initially alarmed body relaxes as you recognize it as the sound of someone knocking. Wrapping a robe around your night shift, you head toward the door, expecting Elain on the other side. 
Upon opening your door, you’re surprised to find Azriel standing on the other side.
“You’re not going to Starfall?”
“Good morning to you too.”
Azriel’s eyes rake over your form, taking in your disheveled state. His lips curl into a faint smile. "It's noon," he observes in an amused manner.
Your eyes widen in disbelief, and you pivot your head toward the clock that hangs on the wall of your room. There, confirming his statement, the hands point a half hour past twelve. You overslept. You didn’t have any plans today and it seems your exhausted body took advantage of it.
“Is everything okay?”
His voice, laced with genuine concern, draws your attention back to him. The soft furrow of his brow and the warmth in his eyes catch you off guard. You hesitate. You don’t want to lie but you also don’t want to burden him with the truth.
So you settle for a, “Why?”
"I've noticed you haven't been sleeping much," he remarks, and before you can interrupt, he gestures toward his room, the one adjacent to yours. A silent acknowledgment that he's been more attentive than you realized. It pulls at the strings of your heart. "Or attending family dinners, and now Feyre tells me you're not going to Starfall?"
The weight of his observations presses on you. You didn’t think anyone had noticed.  "Why do you care?" you retort, your words sharper than intended, and a wince follows.
"Isolation is not a good coping method," he responds, his tone steady and unfazed by your sharpness. "Trust me, I know."
"I don't have a dress."  The words escape your lips, but even as you say them, you recognize the feebleness of the excuse.
“I’ll buy you one.”
Heat rises to your cheeks, and you feel a telltale blush spreading as the thought of Azriel buying you a dress takes root. He’s just being nice, you tell yourself. His gaze remains fixed on you, hazel eyes bright and gleaming with curiosity, as if daring you to come up with another excuse.
“Starfall is tomorrow.”
Azriel grins at you. It sends a flutter through your heart and you wonder if he can hear the erratic beat of it. 
“Better make haste and get dressed then. We’ve got a couple of hours before the shops close.”
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You deliberately take extra time getting ready, a mix of anticipation and apprehension swirling within you as you prepare to spend time with Azriel. Half-expecting a hint of annoyance, you finally open the door to your room, only to find Azriel with a welcoming smile that has the bond in your chest humming. Still, you're met with silence at the other side.
You take a deep breath as he gestures for you to follow him. As you step outside, he offers his arm and winnows you, not wanting to waste anymore time. You both find yourselves in the bustling shopping plaza of Velaris, where the fragrance of blooming flowers and the animated chatter of people embrace you.
Elaborate Starfall-themed displays adorn the shops, enticing you inside. Suddenly, the sheer array overwhelms you, and an urge to step back washes over you. Azriel place a hand on your back, stopping you and guiding you towards one of the shops.
“Welcome!” A voice happily chirps. “How can I help you?”
A stunning female enters your line of sight, her gaze immediately fixating on the male standing behind you. Her lips curve into a captivating smile, causing a twinge of jealousy to flicker within you. It’s short lived as Azriel clears his throat, gently nudging you forward.
“We’re looking for a dress for her.” Azriel speaks for you.
“Splendid! What’s the special occasion?”
“Starfall.” Azriel answers.
The female’s eyes widen, her smile morphing into a strained one. “I’m afraid I’ve sold all my best work already.”
“Oh, that’s alright. Sorry for the trouble,” you quickly reply, attempting to conceal the relief in your voice. Turning to leave, Azriel's hands land on your shoulders, directing you back to face the female.
“I’m sure we can find something in here,” Azriel reassures with a polite smile, scanning the aisles of dresses. “Y/n isn't picky. Right?”
“I can be,” you mumble under your breath.
Azriel lets out a sound, what you discern as a muffled chuckle. He gives your shoulder a squeeze and then leans down toward your ear. “If I were you, I’d take advantage of the situation.”
You turn your head slightly and regret it immediately. It takes all your strength to hold back the shudder your body wants to give at his proximity. He’s so close you can feel his breath fanning against your neck and you wonder what it would feel like to have his lips pressed against that sensitive skin.
It surprises you how quickly you find your voice.
“I’m going to pick the most expensive one.”
“Go ahead,” Azriel says and you can hear the smirk in his voice without having to look at him. He doesn’t allow you to get another word in, urging you forward again to where the female patiently awaits for you.
She lightly grasps your arm, leading you toward a rack of dresses in various styles and colors while Azriel makes himself comfortable on the couch by the fitting room. “You are a lucky lady,” she muses, her hands gracefully exploring the textures of her creations. “I’ve had this shop for centuries and you’re the first lady the Shadowsinger has brought to me.”
A blush warms your cheeks as you divert your attention to the array of beautiful dresses. Each one is a work of art, making you question her earlier claim about not having her best work available. If these weren't her finest creations, the thought of what her best work looked like leaves you intrigued.
The female, who’s name you learn is Willow, has you try on a couple of dresses that differ in styles. You’re reluctant to show Azriel each one but given he’s paying for it and the only other one in this shop, you feel like he should have some say.
“Do you like it?” Willow beams at you, admiring her work.
On the fifth dress, your hands run over the tulle of the vibrant yellow skirt. The fabric feels itchy against your skin, and the color is too bold for your taste. You swear you are not trying to be picky, despite what you told Azriel earlier. 
“I li–”
“Let’s try another?” Azriel cuts in as if sensing the lie that was about to unfold. He rises from his seat toward one of the racks and pulls out a dress that caught his eye earlier. “How about this one?”
He holds the dress out to you, smiling softly when you take it from him. It’s much simpler compared to the other dress you’ve tried on but still just as elegant. It’s also soft against your skin. Willow guides you back into the fitting room, deftly assisting you out of the vivid yellow dress and into the cobalt blue silk one.
“I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. Cobalt blue is more your color!" Willow says as she gushes over you.
Her choice of words leaves you momentarily stunned. Cobalt blue is more your color. The exact words the Suriel had spoken to you. Also, the exact same shade as Azriel's siphons. The Suriel must’ve enjoyed himself a lot when he said those words to you. That sneaky little creature... You can hear his laugh echoing through your mind.
As you finally emerge from the dressing room, Azriel can’t help but stare. The fabric drapes gracefully around you, accentuating curves he hadn't noticed before. Sensing his prolonged gaze, your eyes meet his. It was him quickly averting his gaze, a subtle flush coloring his cheeks. He clears his throat, attempting to regain his composure.
"This is the one. It looks…good on you," he manages to say, his voice slightly strained.
“It’s 500 gold marks.”
He picks up on the teasing in your tone and the way Willow shakes her head in reassurance at him. Still, he humors you and says, “I don’t care.”
He’d pay more than 500 gold marks just to make you happy.
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Azriel battled with restless thoughts that night, unable to find solace in sleep. Each time he closed his eyes, the vivid image of you in that dress invaded his mind. He couldn’t wait to see you in that dress again. Maybe then, he’d have the courage to compliment you better.
As the sun dipped below the horizon and the first guests arrived for the Starfall celebration, Azriel's eyes eagerly scanned the gathering crowd, seeking a glimpse of you. Just as a twinge of disappointment crept in, his shadows stirred, signaling your proximity. His wings twitched with anticipation, and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of you. You are absolutely stunning. Breathtaking. 
In an instant heartbeat, he’s pushing Cassian, who was ready to fly you up to the House of Wind, aside. With a warning look, Cassian steps away with a chuckle.
"You're here," he whispers, a blend of disbelief and relief saturating his breath.
“Well a very nice male spent a lot of money for me to be here.”
“Well I’m glad.” Azriel chuckles, eyes drinking you in again. Savoring you. “You’re beautiful.”
“So are you.”
Azriel flushes at the unexpected compliment and his shadows to come to life around him. He smiles at you. “Shall we?”
He waits for your nod before carefully hooking an arm beneath your knees, eyes never leaving yours. A thrill courses through him as he revels in the sensation of your arms around his neck, taking delight in the way you feel in his arms. His wings unfurl behind him, preparing for the short flight up. The sound has your eyes fluttering shut, arms tightening around him and face burying into his neck. He finds it absolutely endearing. He never wants to let you go.
Against his wishes, the flight up to the balcony was short. He sets you down, helping you regain your footing, a lingering touch before reluctantly releasing you. There’s still more guests he, unfortunately, has to fly up. It’s as if you sense his internal conflict because you’re turning around to face him, eyes bright and alight.
“Yes, Azriel. I’ll save you a dance.”
The way his name rolls off your tongue sends a thrill up his spine. He opens his mouth to say something but once again, you beat him to it.
"Thought I'd save you the question," you stated, an all-knowing grin gracing your features as you tapped the corner of one of your eyes. Ah, so you had a vision of him. He wonders about the other glimpses you might have seen.
He doesn’t have too much time to dwell on it as Elain is rushing toward you, showering you with compliments. He takes that as his cue to depart. He is determined to finish his tasks in bringing the remaining guests up as fast as he can so that he can return to you and that dance you promised.
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Azriel finds himself stealing glances whenever he thinks you won’t notice. The sparkle in your eyes, the way the dress accentuates your features–he can't look away. Caught up in the melody of your laughter, provoked by something Elain said, Azriel and his shadows are too mesmerized in the beauty of you to notice Feyre approaching until she speaks.
"She’s beautiful," Feyre remarks, her eyes following the same path as Azriel's gaze.
A soft affirmation escapes Azriel's lips. "Yes."
Feyre, well aware of the answer, delves further. "You bought her that dress?"
“Yes.”
A mischievous gleam flickers in Feyre's eyes as she delivers her next statement. "You like her." 
Azriel's response slips out before he can even grasp the depth of his own admission. "Yes."
He turns to Feyre, his wide eyes betraying the shock of his own revelation. A slight pallor washes over his skin, and Feyre chuckles at his reaction. Sensing the tension in the air, she rests a reassuring arm on his shoulder. “I like her too,” she confesses.
Though, both of them recognize that Azriel's feelings for you run deeper and in more intricate ways than Feyre's own fondness.
“I offered her a place in this court. She said she’d think about it. Maybe you can convince her? The same way you convinced her to come to Starfall,” Feyre says and then with one last pat on his shoulder, she makes her way back toward Rhysand.
Still recovering from the revelation of his own feelings, it takes a while longer for the weight of Feyre’s words to sink in. A mixture of surprise, uncertainty, and a flicker of hope plays out across his features. You weren’t planning on staying? The thought of you leaving–leaving him stirs a feeling in his chest. His eyes seek you out again but you’re no longer standing beside Elain.  
In your place, stands Lucien and normally the sight would trigger dark emotions from him. But now? He feels nothing. There’s no sense of envy. His affections have shifted elsewhere.
Azriel’s shadows fall to the floor, slithering against the cool tile like serpents of the night. They lead the way directly to where you stand, by the champagne table. He makes his way toward you and you're downing the rest of the liquid in your glass.
“Azriel.” You smile at him.
“It’s time for you to fulfill the promise you made me.”
“Of course,” you reply, offering him your hand.
Azriel gracefully pulls you into his embrace. One hand wraps around yours while the other rests on your waist. The enchanting melody guides your movements as the two of you glide across the floor.
“Feyre told me she offered you a role in this court.”
Your eyes, wise and mysterious, meet his, and he feels your body tense under his hold. “What else did she tell you?”
“That you’d think about it,” he says, the rhythm of the dance allowing for a moment of ease to settle between you. “You should stay.”
“Why?”
A wistful expression colors your features and the soft glow of stars are reflected in your eyes. The music comes to a gradual end and you free yourself of his hold before the next song begins.
“There’s no one here for me.” You admit and then give a small laugh as you look down. There's a deep, haunting sadness to your laughter, striking a chord within him.
“I’m right here.” 
Lifting your head back up, your eyes search his for something with a glimmer of hope. An eternity seems to pass in your gaze. A frown settles over your lips and he feels a tinge of sadness. Whatever you sought, it seems you did not find it.
Suppressing the surge of emotions within him, his hand reaches for yours again. He guides you to somewhere more private, toward one of the balconies that is off limits to the guests. “Talk to me,” he says, his words carrying an invitation for you to unburden your heart.
Your hands grip onto the railing before you and attention is directed up towards the night sky. He mirrors your actions, resting his hands close to yours. So close he can feel your warmth but not close enough to touch.
"It feels weird being here," you sigh deeply. "My mother and I used to sneak out of Hewn City on Starfall just to catch a glimpse of these migrating spirits every year...until she realized what I was. She said I was a curse, said she would turn me into Keir and let him have his way with me if I didn't leave."
Azriel's fingers clench into a white knuckled grip at your words.
"Not that leaving a horrible city such as Hewn was exactly a punishment. It was probably for the best. Still didn't stop me from being scared. It was the first time in my life that I was actually alone. I learned how to survive."
"I met the Suriel a year later. He must've taken pity on me and would visit me without being summoned. Sometimes, it'd be to tease me with some gossip. Other times, to annoy and chide me for my mistakes. Most importantly, he taught me how to not only survive on my own but live alone. I don't know, it's probably silly but I just felt a lot less lonely when I was actually alone than I do here."
“It’s not silly. I used to feel that way too.” Azriel admits and after a moment of silence, he’s turning toward you.  “Am I not your friend?”
“I don’t know,” you find yourself saying again, uncertainty clouding your expression. Pausing, you tear your gaze from the night sky to look at him. “Do you want to be?”
“Yes,” Azriel smiles at you. And so much more. 
You smile back at him but it doesn’t last long. Turning your head to face directly ahead, you bite the inside of your cheek in hesitation, revealing to Azriel that there’s more troubling you than your sense of loneliness.
“What else?” 
“There’s nothing else.”
“y/n.”
“I feel like a failure.”
Azriel's eyes widen, his heart sinking to his stomach. “You’re not,” he reassures quickly.
“I–I just,” you stammer, the weight of self-doubt evident in your voice. “It’s nearing four months since I’ve arrived, and I feel like I’ve barely scratched the surface with Elain.”
“How long did it take you to harness your abilities?”
“Decades,” you respond, the admission carrying a hint of sheepishness. “But Elain is different. This is different. I don’t want to disappoint her. Disappoint Feyre. The world we know is crumbling apart, and we don’t have time. If–if we cannot fix it before it’s too late, I will have failed him.”
“Hey, look at me.”
When you don’t, Azriel lightly grips your chin, coaxing your gaze to him. “You’re here, aren’t you? You’re honoring his wish by just being here. Keep trying,” he encourages, wiping away your tears. “I’ll be here with you every step of the way. You’re not alone. We’ll face this together.”
“Together?”
He releases his hold on you, resting his hand once more on the rail. This time, it’s even closer to yours.
“Together,” he confirms, heart swarming with warmth when your hand bridges the gap between you and brushes against his. 
And finally, it seems your lonely days are through.
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Azriel’s been in love before. Twice. Or at least, he thought it was love. One was unrequited, a silent ache he carried within. The other was forbidden, a love he had clung to with misguided hope. He was beginning to come to the begrudging conclusion that love was simply not meant for him.
Then, you came along. Strange as it seems, you've seemed to have brought back that old feeling to him, awakening something deep inside of him. And though he doesn't know what you did, he thinks--he hopes that you could be the one. The one to possibly release him from the chains of solitude and longing.
You've rarely left his mind since the night he met you. The echoes of your first words to him lingered in his mind long after your encounter, “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Your voice was cloaked in both mystery and certainty, as though you held the threads of destiny within your grasp. It prompted him to ask who you were but your answer, “that’s for you to decide” only gave rise to more questions. 
Then, there was that smile. So beautiful, so hopeful. It etched itself into the recesses of his memory. It was a smile no one had ever bestowed upon him before and one he longed to see it again.
And he almost ruined it all–that day he snapped at you after a session gone wrong with Elain. Your intentions were always pure. He knew this. No one was at fault as everything that transpired between you and Elain was completely consensual. But the scream that tore through Elain sent him in a heightened frenzy. He had sworn to Rhysand and Feyre, his High Lord and High Lady, that he would protect Elain. Before he could properly assess the situation, he had roughly pushed you aside with a growl. The hurt that flashed in your eyes in response haunted him nearly every night.
You began to actively avoid his gaze and presence whenever possible, and guilt gnawed at him relentlessly. Even his shadows, missing your attention, seemed angry with him. Truth be told, he was angry with himself too. You had made friends with everyone. Everyone but him.
The following two weeks became a series of futile attempts at groveling, your obliviousness to it all cutting deeper than he cared to admit. The breaking point came when you missed dinner, and he knew it was time to set things right then. So he sent his shadows to look for you and when they reported back to him that you were sleeping in the library, he brought your dinner to you.
After that moment, the atmosphere between you two shifted. He became the chaser, gradually closing the distance between you.
You looked his way more, approached him with a newfound openness, and your conversations became more frequent. You teased him at times, even, with your cryptic words. But rather than frustrating him, it only made him seek you out more. He wanted to be the one to unravel the mystery that was you.
Somewhere down the line, his eyes stopped searching for Elain's. The private moments he sought with her became mere echoes of the past—no more lingering touches, exchanged glances, or pointless conversations. Instead, it was you who occupied the center of his attention, infiltrating his dreams and igniting desires he never knew he harbored.
You eased him like no other, effortlessly coaxing smiles and laughter from him. It was in these moments that the realization struck him like a bolt of lightning—he had never truly been in love during the first two instances. What he felt for you was different. He was unwilling to let his feelings linger in the shadows, as they had done before. He yearned for them to step into the light. To be acknowledged and acted upon openly.
He decided to wait until after Solstice to confess to you and hoped that your visions wouldn't give him away.
Laughter and clinks of wine glasses ring through the air. Azriel knows it’s time to open presents, his shadows singing loudly and overwhelming him with information. Cassian is sneaking a peak. Rhysand is rolling his eyes. Elain got Lucien a present. y/n is holding back tears.
Azriel tenses at the last bit of information, eyes immediately finding you. You’re seated beside Feyre–the two of you exchanging smiles. There’s an unwrapped present on your lap and his shadows dart toward it. It’s a small portrait of the Suriel. He hears you thank Feyre and he swears he can feel your ache of grief. He moves to stand from his seat but Elain stops him.
“Happy Solstice,” she says, holding out a small present. He takes the box albeit reluctantly but politely and opens it to find two tickets to an upcoming play. 
Elain smiles at the frown he’s trying to hide.
"Elain, I can't--"
“Y/n mentioned always wanting to go see a play. I thought maybe you could be the one to take her. After you confess."
His eyes search hers for any traces of hurt. He’s relieved when he finds none but the frown in his brow remains. “How–”
“She trained me well," Elain replies, eyes shining with an all knowing gleam he's seen in yours. "She deserves to be happy. You both do and something tells me that she’s the one you’ve been waiting for.”
Gods, you and Elain have been hanging out so much with one another that now she’s beginning to talk like you. There's a tightening in his chest, like a band about to snap at her words.
Azriel looks back at Elain in question but she only smiles at him once more before retreating back to where she was sitting previously. Next to Lucien, who also sends a smile his way.
Looking down at the tickets, he thinks of you again. His shadows stir, mirroring the strange sensation in his chest. It’s almost like a pull and his shadows guide him toward it, turning his head for him. Just in time to catch a glimpse of you quietly slipping away from the festivities. His steps quicken as he follows you, pulling his coat along with him.
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The soft flakes of snow flutter down, a delicate dance in the winter night. Despite weeks of continuous snowfall, the enchanting beauty of it never fails to captivate you. It differs markedly from the unforgiving snowstorms you endured while wandering the Night Court's forests. Though just as cold, it prompts an involuntary shiver, a reaction to the biting chill in the air.
As the door behind you creaks open, a rush of warmth accompanies its movement. The scent of cedar invades your senses, growing more intense as you feel a fabric drape over your shoulders, bringing forth an intimate warmth.
"Hey," Azriel breathes, a visible puff of white escaping his lips.
"Hi," you smile back at him, your fingers instinctively reaching for the coat that draped over your shoulders. You can't help but notice the thin sweater he wears. "Won't you be cold, though?"
Azriel stops you, securing his coat back onto your smaller frame with a reassuring smile. “I grew up in a camp where it snowed a lot more than this. I’ll be fine.”
You look back up at the night sky. The stars are shining so bright. It makes you wonder if they ever tire. They seem to answer you as their radiant beams cast a celestial glow upon you. Your vision blurs in surrender.
“What are you seeing?” Azriel inquires, curious. He hopes it's not the confession he's aching to spill.
Your eyebrows knit together, and you close your eyes, immersing yourself in deciphering the messages woven between the stars. Upon opening your eyes, you turn to Azriel, a teasing smirk playing on your lips.
“You're going to get frostbite."
Azriel lets out an amused huff. "I don't care. As long as you're warm."
"We should head back inside," you suggest.
"No," Azriel insists, enfolding a wing around your form, anchoring you in place. His shadows can sense you don't want to go back inside yet. "I like being alone with you."
The wind nips at your cheeks, a sensation you welcome as it gives the perfect excuse for the blush creeping across your face. Tearing your gaze away from Azriel before he can discern his effect on you, you quietly share, "Nyx is going to say his first word in three days."
Azriel leans forward and you can feel his anticipation. A familial bet circulates among his uncles and aunts (save for Elain) regarding what the young heir’s first word will be. “What is it?”
“Cas.”
Azriel can't resist glancing back toward the house, his eyes narrowing with a mix of suspicion and curiosity. There, he catches a fleeting glimpse of Cassian playfully hoisting Nyx in the air, the two engaged in a lively game of chase around the living room. When he turns his attention back to you, mischief twinkles in your eyes.
“You’re lying.”
“You fell for it."
And that smile he’s been longing for since he met you graces your lips as you laugh. A sweet and beautiful sound that warms the winter air. Azriel's gaze dips toward your lips, captivated by the sound, before lifting back to meet your eyes. He leans in even closer.
“I fell for you.”
You also lean in, eyes never leaving his. "The answer is yes."
"What?"
Azriel nearly stumbles back, caught off guard, but you remain close, lifting a hand and cradling his cheek. It's surprisingly warm and he instinctively leans into your touch. His eyes widen. Did you—
“To you taking me on a date,” you reveal, your smile deepening, and he swears his shadows snicker in response. “The vision I just saw. It was of me and you at a theater. Next Friday at seven.”
“Next Friday at seven,” Azriel confirms, a tender affection lighting up his expression.
The air seems to shimmer with the promise of an enchanting future. You reach out, tugging at the bond in your chest. Once again, there is only silence. Yet, you can’t bring yourself to care anymore. Not when Azriel is gazing at you as though you are the very stars illuminating the night sky.
And then you're kissing him.
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The snow crunches underfoot as Azriel moves, his usually keen senses dulled. His mind is elsewhere, consumed by thoughts of you. Even as the icy missiles fly past him, Azriel remains lost in the memories of shared glances and smiles and the way your lips felt so perfect against his last night.
For the first time in years, Azriel finds himself on the losing side of the annual snowball fight. Oddly, no disappointment lingers, even after meticulous planning for this anticipated victory. All he wants is to return home—to you.
Amidst the snowy chaos, revelation strikes him simultaneously with a snowball from Rhysand. The snap, the bond—everything falls into place. It all makes sense now. Your words when you first met. Elain’s words last night at Solstice. Why your presence thrilled and delighted him. Why he couldn't shake the feeling of love and adoration for you.
You are his mate. 
The one he had been longing and pleading for, and the realization left him breathless. He shakes the snow from his face and Rhysand blinks back at him in surprise. The High Lord had been expecting a glare but he only finds pure shock on Azriel’s face.
“Oh come on, I didn’t hit you that hard,” he teases.
“I have to go.”
“If you leave, you’re forfeiting,” warns Cassian, but the glint in his eye betrays a desire for Azriel to leave, eager for a victory.
“I yield,” Azriel says mindlessly, surprising even Rhysand. Feeling his friend's talons probing his mind, Azriel throws up his shields and disappears into his shadows, abandoning the snow-covered battlefield. He'll explain later.
For now, he has to find you.
His shadows winnow him back to the River house and he doesn’t have to look for long because there you are, making your way down the last step and standing in his path. There’s not much that surprises you but that has changed since meeting Azriel and this moment is no different. Your eyes are widening, mouth parting.
“Azriel," you say. "What are you doing here? I thought you were–”
“It’s you,” Azriel interrupts breathlessly as if he was running, chest rising and falling quickly in step with the erratic beating of his heart. He’s bridging the distance between you. “All this time. It’s been you.”
You swallow thickly. “You know?”
The glimmer of hope that had ignited during Starfall returns to your eyes, revealing a world he hadn’t realized existed. How could he have been so blind?
Azriel smiles at you and it’s as if that’s the last piece to the puzzle as the bond between you both comes to life, singing loudly against your chests. He pulls you flush against him and spins you around, eliciting a delightful squeal from you. Cradling your face in his hands, he kisses your forehead, then the corners of your eyes. He saves your lips for last, lingering in the sweet taste of them for a moment longer.
“You’re my mate,” he says quietly, leaning his forehead against yours.
“Yes,” you manage to whisper back, surrendering yourself to the depths of his mesmerizing hazel eyes, just like in the vision from months ago. And it’s not you who speaks again but Azriel.
“I’ve been waiting for you.”
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a/n: hope you all enjoyed this (: It took me longer to write than I thought because i'm used to writing more angst for Az than fluff but I wanted this to be different. It's canon that Elain found out that reader and Az were mates through a vision around the same time she decided to give Lucien a chance. I just want them all to be happy ♡ in terms of my ABBA x ACOTAR series, I think I'll work on another one for Cas next inspired by Honey, Honey. If you'd like to be tagged, just let me know!
tagging: @hellodarling1357
if you want to read more about Az x Seer reader, I wrote a couple of bonus scenes that didn't quite make the final cut. You can read them here.
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luxaofhesperides · 1 month
Text
Soulmark AU + Sleeping Beauty ; requested by @candeartist422!
For the last few years, Duke’s been waiting for his soulmate to die.
It sounds cruel to say it that way. But the waiting is more painful, he thinks, than just mourning a lost love. It’s not like most people ever meet their soulmates anyways; his parents weren’t meant to be, but they still loved each other and had a life together. He wishes he could turn his focus away from his soulmate, but Duke is a romantic at heart and has always wanted to find the other half of his soul.
But since he was fourteen, his soulmark has dulled, fading in and out of color. What was once a vibrant blue crystal star, with eight points and a swirl of watercolor hues around it, dimmed more and more until Duke was sure he was watching his soulmate die slowly. 
His soulmate didn’t die then. Whoever they are got better, his soulmark gaining color, but it never went back to the way it was. For years after, Duke would check at the beginning and end of each day, keeping track of when it faded and when it regained its color. 
He thought his soulmate was sick. In and out of hospitals, fighting to stay alive.
And then it went nearly colorless. 
Duke doesn’t remember much about that day. He knows he woke up, brushed his teeth, the lifted up his shirt to check his soulmark in the mirror. The blue was almost completely gone, the star on his left hipbone nearly gray with how colorless it was. He started at it for a moment, shocked, and reality slid away from him as he retreated into the safety of his mind, fully dissociating. 
Bruce had found him when Duke didn’t show up for breakfast. He held him and offered quiet words of comfort that Duke couldn’t understand, but just having someone with him lessened the hurt of losing his soulmate. 
Seeing the color come back the next day, faint as it was, hurt even more.
A year later, Duke still can’t break the habit of checking his soulmark twice a day. It hasn’t changed at all, still faint and dim, but carrying just enough color to show that his soulmate was still alive. At the very least, they were still breathing, but his chance of ever meeting them is basically zero. Still, he can’t help but hope, wishing that he could meet them even once before they die and leave him forever. 
“Same as ever,” he murmurs to himself as he brushes his thumb against his soulmark. He’s terrified that he’s forgotten how beautiful the blue of it was when his soulmate was healthy. 
Duke doesn’t let himself think on it too much anymore. Though his thoughts often turn to his soulmate during quiet moments like these, the busy nature of Gotham is usually more than enough to pull his attention back to the here and now. There’s no use in obsessing over his soulmate anyways; they’re just going to die, sooner or later, and Duke knows he’ll never get to meet them. They’ll just be another empty space in his life, right next to his parents. 
“Come on, Thomas, focus,” he tells himself firmly, then gets dressed and heads down to the kitchen for breakfast.
The manor is quiet. It usually is in the mornings, with everyone from the night shift dead asleep and trying to get as much rest as they can before they have to start their day. Not that many of them stay in the manor these days; Duke and Damian are the only permanent residents at the moment, but Steph usually stays half with her mom and half in the manor during the summers when she’s home from college, and the others drop in whenever they feel like it. 
Bruce lives more in the Batcave than the manor, so he doesn’t really count. It’s also why Duke is surprised to see Bruce awake and dressed like a normal person, drinking coffee in the kitchen as if this is a normal occurrence. 
“Morning,” Duke offers.
“Good morning, Duke,” Bruce replies. “Sleep well?”
“Well enough. Alfred out or something?”
“He may have kicked me out of the Batcave to clean it up a bit,” Bruce answers tiredly. “Want me to make breakfast?”
Duke has heard the horror stories of Bruce’s attempts to make edible food in a kitchen. In the interest of not dealing with food poisoning, Duke shakes his head quickly and says, “Nah, it’s fine. I was kinda wanting to eat out for breakfast. Get out there as me, and not a mask, you know?”
“Mind if I join you? Alfred may forgive me for not sleeping if I willingly go outside.”
Duke laughs. “Sure man, as long as you pay.”
“I’ll drive, too.”
“What, don’t trust me behind a wheel?”
Bruce gives him a tired look, eyes dead and dull. “I have taught all my children how to drive. The day I willingly let them take the wheel when I am not actively dying is the day I’ve been replaced by a robot clone of myself who doesn’t know better yet.”
“That is… very specific. Is that a thing you usually worry about?”
“I’m Batman. I have to worry about everything.”
Yeah, that tracks. Duke wouldn’t be surprised if he has at least five contingency plans for that scenario, should it ever happen. “Well,” he says, “Right now, all you need to worry about is having your wallet and driving us down to The Foodie Nook. I’ve been craving their breakfast plates for ages.”
Bruce doesn’t object to his choice of restaurant and follows Duke down to the garage, grabbing a random set of keys and pointing it out to the many cars he owns. One near the front blinks its lights as it unlocks and Duke cheerfully tosses himself into the passenger seat as Bruce opens the garage door. 
The drive into Gotham is smooth. They don’t hit traffic until they reach the bridge that leads into the city proper, taking them away from the quiet of Bristol. The morning is busy, but not enough that Duke worries about being out as the Signal to help keep the peace. It’s a normal type of busy, one borne from people going about their lives, feeling safe enough to go out. 
The Foodie Nook is entirely local and very popular, so the parking lot is nearly full. But they expanded their space last year, which means he and Bruce don’t have to sit outside while they wait to grab a table. Bruce keeps conversation light and casual, well aware of the many listening ears around them, and it’s nice, feeling normal for once. 
Well, as normal as life can be with Bruce Wayne™. The server who comes to lead them to a table realizes who she’s talking to after she gets a proper look at them while holding open the door and promptly stutters over her words. 
“No need for any special treatment,” Bruce laughs lightly, “We’re just here for breakfast. Nothing special.”
“Of course,” she replies, cheeks red. “Um, right this way! We’ve got a table by the windows for you. Just two, yeah?”
“Yup! Just two. Thought this was a good day to spend some time with Duke. He’s a great kid, you know, I’m glad I was given the opportunity to foster him.”
The sunny, cheerful Bruce Wayne persona is so different from the usual Bruce he works with that it feels like he’s standing next to a stranger. But his words are sincere and warm his heart, filling up the gaps that his soulmate has left. 
“Here you are!” their server announces, showing them to their table. “I’ll be right back with some menus.” She’s gone in a rush, and other customers glance over before quickly averting their gaze. 
It’s one of the unspoken rules of Gotham: give the Waynes their privacy while they’re out in public. Questions and conversation are for public events only, but if they see a Wayne out and about during a normal day, everyone leaves them be unless spoken to first. Duke used to follow those rules as well when he was just another Gothamite. It’s strange being on the other side of that now that he’s in with the Waynes.
Duke barely has to look through the menu when it’s handed to him. The breakfast plates are his favorites and he gets one every single time he comes to The Foodie Nook; stacked full with breakfast foods from around the world. As a kid, he loved the Mexico Plate, but these days he’s craving either the Brazilian Plate or the Vietnamese Plate.  
He can’t decide on which one and thinks about tossing a coin to decide, but seeing how that’s Two Face’s whole thing, he decides to hold off and settle the matter with eenie-meenie-minnie-mo. 
He gets the Vietnamese Plate.
Bruce, on the other hand, reads through the entire menu like it’s a novel, then leans over and says rather loudly, “Duke, what’s a tort-illa.” 
The pain he feels hearing that is only worsened by the amusement in Bruce’s eyes. He’s doing it on purpose, playing up the Brucie act for the public so he can psychologically torment Duke. A few nearby customers choke back laughter, turning away to hide their smiles. 
Duke shakes his head and says, “Don’t worry about it. It’s just food. Don’t ask any more questions, I just want a peaceful breakfast.”
“Well then,” Bruce replies, “I suppose I know what to order now.”
As if she was summoned, their server reappears before them, cheeks still looking a little flushed. “Hi! Ready to order?”
She writes down their orders quickly, valiantly keeping a straight face at Bruce’s mispronunciation of tortilla, then heads off to deliver their orders to the kitchen. 
Rather than draw out a conversation with Brucie Wayne, Duke settles for playing a few idle games on his phone; his current favorite is one quiet cat cafe game where he directs cats into fulfilling cafe orders. 
Bruce, despite being out in his civilian identity, is working. He’s on his Batman phone, which looks the same as his other cell phones except this one has a bat symbol sticker just barely hiding a Superman sticker on the phone case. His brow is slightly furrowed as he reads whatever file he’s accessing from the Batcomputer. It’s a little worrying but it could be anything. Bruce makes the same expression when he reads one of Tim’s snarky comments getting quoted in the news.
But that’s not Duke’s problem! He’s here to enjoy his breakfast and it will take the end of the world itself to remove him from his seat before he’s done eating.
The game takes most of his attention until their food comes out, and by then Bruce has tucked away the smallest of his Batman mannerisms. They enjoy a normal, peaceful breakfast. Bruce ends it by asking their server if she has any debt that’s weighing her down, then giving her a tip that’s at least five thousand dollars above that. 
She does cry and Bruce hugs her. It’s very sweet. 
As soon as they get back into the car, his easy going smile drops and Duke knows some superhero nonsense is about to take over his day. 
“Duke,” Bruce starts, seriously, “I received a message from Zatanna.”
“Don’t drag this out,” Duke says, “Just give it to me straight. What terrible thing is about to happen to us?”
“It’s nothing too big. They just recently defeated a magical being who had been tearing apart secret government facilities in Illinois. He had both magic and a high tech weapon, which they confiscated and are delivering to me. The government agency he was fighting was suspiciously interested in the weapon, and based on their behaviors and newly revealed work, Zatanna made the decision to turn the weapon over to us so it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”
Bruce smoothly merges into traffic as he speaks, getting them onto the road back to the manor. There’s a look in his eyes that means he’s keeping a lot unsaid, and Duke knows without a doubt that whatever this government agency was doing is bad if Zatanna needs Batman to act as extra security. 
He’s not sure about her decision to trust the weapon to be safe in Gotham, either. Sure, Batman will keep it as safe as he can, but with their luck, it’ll end up in the hands of a Rogue and lead to a lot of death and destruction. 
As soon as they cross the bridge and return to Bristol, Bruce steps on the gas and the car tears down the road. Without any other cars to worry about (or traffic laws), it takes barely two minutes to reach the manor, when the gates open for them and let them into the garage. 
Alfred waits for them by the door, looking them over with a critical eye. “I see you have managed to go outside, Master Bruce. What’s the special occasion?”
“Just breakfast,” Bruce answers. “I’m heading back down to the Batcave. Zatanna will be here soon to deliver a weapon.” He’s gone before Alfred can say anything more, hurrying down the hall and turning the corner, disappearing from sight as he heads towards his office. 
“I see we have yet to break that bad habit of his. Did you enjoy your morning out, Master Duke?”
“Sure did, Alfred. I’m, uh, also going down to the Batcave. He’s definitely not telling me a lot about what’s going on, so I’m just going to read about it over his shoulder. I’ll be back up for lunch, though!”
“And perhaps you’ll be able to drag Master Bruce away from that cave of his,” Alfred comments wryly as he walks with Duke towards the office. He gives Duke a nod, then splits away from him, returning to the kitchen where Duke can hear Damian speaking to someone, probably Tim by the annoyed tone of his voice, and mentally wishes Alfred luck in handling them.
Duke sets the correct time on the clock in Bruce’s office and heads down to the Batcave, taking the steps two at a time. 
Bruce is already at the Batcomputer, shoulders tensed, when he arrives. 
“More bad news?” he asks as he makes his way over.
Bruce doesn’t bother looking away from the screen as he says, “More details about the fight. It seems the magical being called himself a ghost and was going on a rampage due to a betrayal. He says they nearly killed his son.”
“Oh, yikes.”
“And two of the scientists working with the government agency said that he stole their son and is keeping them from saving him.”
“Yikes,” Duke says with more feeling.
He doesn’t get to hear anymore details about JLD’s fight with this ghost when he catches a flicker in the corner of his eye. Duke turns and stares at the empty space in the Batcave near the medbay and watches as colorful magic gathers and swirls in dizzing circles. The portal opens a moment later and Zatanna steps out, looking exhausted and lightly singed. 
“Batman,” she greets, holding a white gun that looks like it belongs in an early sci-fi movie from the 60s. “The GIW is trying to arrest us. Constantine keeps burning their badges and documents so it shouldn’t be a problem, but they are determined to get this back. I wouldn’t be surprised if they came after you next. They’ve got some way of tracking things, but I didn’t have time to get any details before I had to leave.”
Bruce takes the gun from her hands carefully, looking it over with a sharp gaze. “Why would a ghost want to use a gun?”
“I don’t know. He had a variety of powers, too.”
“What does this do?”
“Shoots ice. He never let it go and nearly burned me alive for taking it before we subdued him.”
“We’ll keep it locked up,” Bruce promises. 
Zatanna sighs. It looks as though a physical weight fell off her shoulders. “Thanks. I’m going to head back to stop Constantine from getting into a fistfight with the GIW agents.”
She opens another portal with a waved hand and a muttered spell. Bruce is already walking away to set the gun down on a work station, so Duke is the one to wave Zatanna goodbye. 
By the time he reaches Bruce’s side, the gun is already dismantled, all pieces neatly set aside. Sticky notes denote which pieces go together and in what order. It looks the same as most guns, save for the aesthetic, but the heart of it is a glowing blue orb, large enough to cover the entirety of Bruce’s palm, and it brings a chill to the air.
Duke stares at it and feels his soulmark burn ice cold.
“Duke?”
It’s in his hands. He doesn’t remember reaching out to take it, but it’s in his hands. He can’t take his eyes off of it, cradling it gently and bringing it closer to his chest. 
It’s the same blue his soulmark once was. Before his soulmate began to fade, before every day became a waiting game to see how long his soulmate will last before they die. 
This has something to do with his soulmate. He’s sure of it. 
He won’t let anyone take it from him. 
“Duke. Give that to me.”
He doesn’t feel like he’s in his body. He’s detached, floating somewhere outside his body, puppeteering his limbs, making them move without feeling the motion. Shadows condense around his feet and Bruce takes a step back, wary. 
“Duke,” he says again, but Duke can’t find any words, can’t draw on his voice, can’t even look away from the bright, bright blue of the orb. It pulses lightly in his hand like a heartbeat. 
Bruce reaches a hand out. 
He’s pulled back by shadows before he can get close, and Duke holds the orb against his chest, right against his heart, and feels the cold seep into him. 
“Duke. I need you to look at me.” This time, Bruce’s voice has Batman’s growl in it, a heavy command that he can’t help but instinctively follow. He looks up and meets Bruce’s eyes, but he can’t focus. All his awareness is in his hands and the heartbeat of the glowing orb.
“I have to protect this,��� Duke manages to whisper. “I… I think it’s alive.”
“Okay. Let’s get you to the medbay so you can sit down. We’ll figure this out, Duke.”
Bruce slowly, carefully, sets his hand on Duke’s shoulder. He keeps his attention away from the orb, so Duke allows it and lets Bruce guide him to the medbay and onto one of the medical cots. Bruce leaves him after a minute of quiet fussing, muttering about calling Zatanna.
Whatever. None of that matters when the heartbeat of the orb grows stronger, steadier, and Duke feels it match the beat of his own heart.
Time slips away from him. Distantly, he hears people move around the cave, speaking in low tones. A hand presses against his shoulder, warm, then moves away. 
The orb in his hand moves. 
Duke blinks slowly, then claws his way back to awareness, pushing past the haze that’s fallen over his mind. The orb turns over in his hand, then cracks right down the middle. The glow grows stronger, washing the medbay in blue light and a symbol appears on the orb.
It’s his soulmark. 
Later, he won’t be able to say why he did it. There were no thoughts, no reasonings, no explanations. Duke simply moved on instinct and lifted the orb up to his face and pressed a soft kiss against it. 
One moment, the orb was still.
The next, it had burst in a flash of light that blinded everyone in the Batcave, and then a thin, injured teenager had fallen into Duke’s lap. 
Hands immediately grab him, pulling him away from Duke. The teenager puts up no fight, eyes barely open, but he reaches for Duke weakly. On his wrist is the bright blue snowflake, the color strong and vivid. 
“That’s me soulmate,” Duke whispers as he watches Bruce and Tim set the boy down on another medical cot. 
“What?” Tim says, turning to face Duke, concern clear on his face. 
“That’s my soulmate,” he repeats, louder. Then, panicked, he pulls up his shirt enough to see his own soulmark; the color is still dull, weak, barely there, but it’s more blue that it has been in a while. He doesn’t need to say anything. Tim sees the dullness of his soulmark, looks at the boy, and puts the pieces together on his own.
“I’ll call Doc Thompkins,” he says, already moving to fix everything. Bruce remains where he is, making sure the boy is tucked in and breathing steadily before he returns to Duke. 
“Are you alright?”
Duke swallows roughly, unable to tear his eyes away from the boy. He’s pale and thin, as if he’d been starved, and there’s frost beginning to spread on the bedsheet from his fingers. “He’s my soulmate,” Duke manages to say. “He’s been dying for two years.”
Bruce’s eyes a hard, a determined light in them. “We’ll save him,” he promises. 
If anyone can, it’s Batman. 
If anyone can, it’s them, Batman and the Signal, and their entire network of family and friends. 
Duke’s been waiting for his soulmate to die all this time. Now, he’s going to save him.
2K notes · View notes
drunkhazed · 6 months
Text
Gods & Monsters (p. sh, l. hs)
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pairing. step-brother sunghoon x female reader x step-brother heeseung
genre. step-siblings AU, pwp, dubcon, fluff smut humor angst etc
warnings. morally grey characterizations(mostly Sunghoon), profanity, toxicity, mentions of body/weight, sibling rivalry, cheating, mentions of death, full smut warnings under cut. minors DNI.
wc. 23,000+
now playing. Gods & Monsters//Lana Del Rey
a/n. dear readers, I know you have waited and waited and waited, and I want to say thank you for that, I appreciate the patience🫶 please remember to be nice, I hope it was worth the wait🩷 ps- apologizing now for reblogging this to tag everyone, and double apology to anyone I did not get, forgive me🩷🩷🩷
smut warnings. Sunghoon’s mean… Heeseung isn’t, coercion, blackmailing, dirty talk, use of ‘princess/baby/good girl’, degradation, praise, throat/breast-fucking, oral, spitting, spanking, choking, desperation, overstimulation, unprotected sex.
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“I still can’t believe they’re related.” 
The brothers in question exit from the same car, the older of the two coming out of the backseat drowning in a black hoodie that hangs past his fingers, masking his eyelids where the hood droops over his head. Some old vintage band hoodie perhaps, the logo too tattered and faded to read. He moves like a black cloud amidst the drizzle of the beginning of a storm. Slow, dangerous, impending, waking shivers up bystander’s spines with his presence.
The younger strides statuesquely in all his glory, head held high flaunting his perfectly sculpted 90 degree jawline that could cut through glass windows. His steps move in a sleek stride, akin to floating in the way he moves as if no crack, rock, or rigged ground could break his model-like Paris fashion week runway walk. His steely gaze never deters, not once distracted by the many calls of fawning and giggles following his lead.
“They’re so opposite.” Your friends continue to chatter, whispering in front of you where you stand by the school’s parking lot sharing your morning greetings; most of the time before class is consumed by gossip and recounts of the weekend, the usual banter you mindlessly sift through. “I guess they look somewhat alike, both tall.. slender, similar in build.”
They shrug and turn to face you, eyebrows lifting curiously and deviously grinning. “You probably know better than anyone now that your mom’s dating their dad.”
Your friends chortle back and forth for a minute about how even Mr. Park is still attractive at his age, and it’s a shame that both brothers don’t take after their father. “Well? Come on,” one of them pokes at your arm. “Don’t be selfish, spill!”
They want to know more about the Park brothers, details you can’t divulge into, because really you don’t know much yourself. No more than every other student that may share a class here and there with one.
“Bet she has a crush on one of them.” You hear between a giggle, a round of laughs bursting and vocals rising in pitch.
“Heeseung’s so her type, bet she’s already hooking up with him.”
“Nah, Sunghoon has something about him behind that cleancut preppy image, you can tell he’s hiding some secrets.”
“I’ve only met them once,” you interrupt before they can continue to dissect and assume. “They seem..” shrugging you fail to come up with much else, heading off to class unable to tear your thoughts away from the two brothers.
Opposite from each other would be an understatement. They’re completely unlike, a scale weighed down on one end as the other lifts high, lit up by light and praise.
The first and only time you met the boys outside of school had been over dinner, your mother had been a nervous wreck; spinning and running around in a frenzy, forcing you to wear some high-collared prim and proper dress that hit below your knees. ‘Can’t have Mr. Park thinking I’ve raised some floozy now can I sweetie?’
Meanwhile, a frown etched your face as you gazed across the table where two men sat uninterested, phone in hand, still sporting their same attire from school earlier. Nonetheless their father showed up dapper as ever, crisp suit and tie, hair coiffed back neatly away from his face displaying every feature even in the candle-lit all too fancy restaurant he’d dragged you all to. 
‘I’ll order for us.’ Mr. Park carried himself with a confident arrogance, one passed onto only one of his sons from what you could tell.
‘Now boys, put the phones away.’ He said shortly, lips pursed together glaring daggers at the two. ‘And sit up straight would you? What have I told you about hunching over Heeseung? Remove that damn hood while you’re at it, this is a fine dining establishment not In-N-Out.’
Mr. Park snapped quickly, his demeanor immediately altering when taking in your mother, speaking to her in a sugary sweet tone. ‘You look absolutely breathtaking tonight my love.’
She flushed, making your nose twitch in disgust and divert your attention away to the menu, anything to not stare ahead at Sunghoon’s flawless side-profile, not that you hadn’t taken the time to while he scrolled engrossed through his phone, fingers tapping and tapping while a smirk grew on his lips.
The evening had been uneventful for the most part, your parents gushing about their trip to Greece last month; the one that your mother came back from squealing and proclaiming ‘I think he’s the one.’
Mr. Park had quite a bit to say about Sunghoon though, clasping his son on the shoulder with a pride-filled smile. ‘One day he’ll be my senior VP, my Hoon’s got a bright future ahead of him. Real smart boy this one, got offered a free ride through university without even needing my help or a generous donation.’
Sunghoon laughed deeply, waving off his father’s praise. ‘It’s all thanks to you dad, seriously what good would I be without your aid to finance the best education.’ 
A pearly white sharp smile had your mother gushing, letting out a cringe-worthy sigh with her palms pressed together. ‘Oh, all my hard work to provide the same and here mine is failing three of her easiest classes.’
‘Mom!’
‘Ah, yes, it seems you can deliver the ingredients on a silver platter, even hand feed them and your children could still disappoint you.’ Mr. Park’s eyes thinned, head tilting in the direction of his elder son. Heeseung avoided him, continuing to lose himself in some mobile game with his phone hidden beneath the table as he had all night. ‘But you know, Hoon’s a great tutor, so good that I’ve had teachers beg me to let him work over summer. Education comes first of course, don’t want him to stress and take on too much while interning at my company over break.’
Mr. Park motions toward you, cocking an eyebrow. ‘Maybe he could help you this school year, I’ll even allow him to do it for free.’
Sunghoon hid a grimace behind his smile, nodding and blinking rapidly at his father’s suggestion. ‘Would love to.’
He’d made you swap contact information, but Sunghoon never bothered to reach out and set-up any sessions. Not as if he had the opportunity to approach you in class, not that he even knew you shared any classes.
Deep in thought you strolled to the back of the class, slumping into your seat to tune out and lose yourself, much like everyone else who opted to hide out from questions and eye-contact with the professors.
Heeseung always loomed back here as well, the corner preferred, an oversized hood tugged over his head to shadow the upper half of his face leaving his lips mostly visible. Most likely as unaware of your presence as you once were of his, at least until that dinner.
You could say something to him, reach out and tap his shoulder, start to wave to greet him when you enter class.. something about that night crossed your mind time and time again, pivoting the sour thoughts away; your mom and Mr. Park could always break-up anyway. 
Mom💞: ‘Have important news tonight sweetie, come home right after school!’
“I wanted to tell you before the official announcement gets sent out.” Your mother smiles wide before you as if a clothes hanger has gotten lodged between her cheeks.
“What announcement?”
“As you know, things have escalated quickly between myself and Mr. Park.” She continues, grabbing a hold of your hands to control the anxious tremor rolling through her limbs. “I know you loved your father more than anyone, as did I, but you know how happy Mr. Park has made me.”
The rest of her words blend with white static noise filling your ears. It was inevitable that this day would come eventually, from the first time you peaked through your window blinds and caught sight of her flirting with your next door neighbor as they pretended to water the bushes and shared sneaking smiles, the itch up your spine resembling a warning.
“We’re moving in together.” She finishes, chewing at her lower lip nervously. “All of us.”
All of us.
Mom. Mr. Park. You.
and his two sons.
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“Sunghoon’s really smart.” Your mother forces a smile after reading an e-mail from your professor over your shoulder. “I’m sure Jinyeong mentioned something about one of his sons tutoring to make extra money, couldn’t have possibly been about Heeseung.”
Typing out a response to your professor about her jam-packed schedule and that she will outsource educational assistance for you, she huffs, leaning back after hitting send. “That Sunghoon is a God-send if you ask me.”
I didn’t ask. 
“I’ll have to beg him to help you out, maybe his father can encourage him with extra incentive.” Frowning at you, she tugs on the flimsy string of your tank top. “What have I told you about covering up more around the house? We live with men again, you can’t walk around displaying all of your body so carelessly anymore.”
Your mother could really care less if you feel offended by her commentary on your appearance, evident by her gaze scanning downward with an irritable tweak tugging her lip. “You know, I don’t pay for all these cute little gym sets for you to use as loungewear. When’s the last time you worked out? Slacking off in school and doing a poor job of maintaining your figure? What type of honorable hard-working man do you think you’ll be able to attract with no brains or looks to your advantage?”
“Yes mother.”
“Yes what?”
“Uh.” Sitting up ramrod straight, you frazzle, having tuned her out some minutes ago. “I’ll study harder and workout more.”
“And?” She nods to a baggy full of grapes by your side, cocking a snarky eyebrow at you.
“Oh..” you’re tempted to mutter something about how you’ve only had a handful, not even having time yet today to eat a proper meal. She wouldn’t care anyway. “Eat less.”
She grins, reaching over to tuck loose tendrils behind your ear. “You should pop into Jinyeong’s home gym downstairs, there’s even a sauna, it’s lovely.”
Unfortunately for you, she’s right, your step-father’s home gym is lovely.
“Rich people really live differently.” You mumble, popping your headphones on to warm-up with a walk on the treadmill. You can’t complain about your new living situation, Jinyeong, as he insists you call him now(because you both know dad would be too weird) has been extremely welcoming and accommodating to not only your mother but you as well. His sons on the other hand, too soon to say much about.
Heeseung has hardly spoken more than a few words, just as closed off and quiet as he comes across at school, and Sunghoon, well Sunghoon is perfect.
10 minutes of humming along to your sweat playlist and bouncing random thoughts around, you walk the gym contemplating if today should be an upper or lower body day, one accidental glance at your backside in the mirror solidifies your decision to focus on your lower half today.
“Deadlifts it is.” You groan to yourself, wiping your palms free of moisture before adjusting the weight. “No way Jinyeong lifts 150…”
“He doesn’t.” A loud deep tone passes beyond the low volume of your music, making you gasp and turn around in your bent position too fast, easily losing your balance and landing on your ass.
Sunghoon glares at you from the entrance, trudging in with a loose muscle tank and sweats on. “What the hell are you doing in here?”
“Uhm, working out?”
He scowls, watching you struggle to get back up as he steps around you to steal your spot before the barbell. “And why pretel do you think you can be here during my time?”
“Your time?” You guffaw, tempted to roll your eyes. “Well damn, I didn’t know we had a schedule to adhere to?”
“You think you’re funny.” Continuing to glower, he shoos you away with one hand, directing his chin toward the door. “Ha ha, now leave.”
“I just got here?!”
“I could care less.” Sunghoon’s jaw tightens, fully flexed in all its sharp glory. “Alexa, play Hoon’s Workout.”
To your disgust, Jay Park blasts through the speakers hung from corner to corner, the familiar beat of MOMMAE plays around you.
Of course he listens to Jay Park.. douche.
“I said get lost.” He rasps, stretching his digits out to wrap around the barbell.
Allowing your eyes to roll up, you shrug and glance around opting to set up on a yoga mat to stretch while he occupies the squat rack area. Sunghoon snarls behind you, annoyed that you won’t take the message he’s stated loud and clear to leave. 
What are you even doing here? Do you even workout? He grunts, hoisting the barbell up with a burn building up in his thighs and calves, peering out of the corner of his eye where you’ve begun to stretch.
Nice ass. 
Wait. 
What.
Shaking his head, he turns away to take a swig from his water, rubbing the heel of his palm against his eyelids. Licking his lips, he throws his head back for more, turning casually to watch your ass push out as you stretch your waist and back on all fours.
What the fuck. 
Sunghoon coughs, clearing his throat before returning to his lifting stance, adrenaline pumping faster with each sneaking look he steals as you twist and groan with a crack coming from your back. The stretch has you faced away, a perfect opportune moment to get a real good look, taking in a deep gulp as he squints to admire how obscene your workout shorts are; scrunched deep enough between your ass to show off everything, absolutely everything.
He groans, half from the ache in his lower back, half from the ache forming between his thighs. Sunghoon shakes it off, whatever it is, toying with the ring suddenly tightening up on his finger. “Hey, you.”
He says, intending to come off rude. “I’m done over here now.”
Without much more, he turns to the free weights, going for the 50 lbs to warm up his triceps. An excited jump swoops through his stomach as you get up and make your way back to the squat rack, adjusting the weight to less than half of what he normally does his reps with. His tongue clicks upon noticing that from the mirror where he watches you get into position, moving away from the barbell on the floor to lower your shoulders beneath the rack. 
“Terrible form.” He mutters, unknowingly too loud with your music paused for this very reason.
“Excuse me?” You snap, turning at your neck to glare at him. “You still have more to say?”
Sunghoon drops the weights obnoxiously, loudly landing on the foam mats. “Your form looks like shit.” He smirks, turning around and snapping his fingers. “Who taught you to curve your spine like that? That’s a sure way to hurt yourself, princess.”
“Don’t call me that.” You say with a disgusted sneer. “My forms fine.”
“It’s trash.”
“You’re trash.”
“Oooh, you get a lot of reaction with those comebacks?” His tongue clicks repeatedly, stepping up behind your back to grab your hips. “This.” He smacks the side of your thigh, igniting a jolt up your back. “Squeeze your ass and stomach in, at the same time princess.”
Against your better judgment and that little irritating voice squealing in the back of your mind at the close proximity you’ve landed yourself in to the Park Sunghoon, you do as he says, albeit struggling to hold in your core and glute muscles. “Good good.” He says in a low whisper much too close behind you, palms dragging up to your waist to squeeze. “Now bend your knees, the back of your ankles better be hitting your ass if you’re doing it right.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“As a heart attack.” He grins, pressing closer until his groin meets your bottom. “Eventually you should be able to hit that, if you’re doing it right.”
Sunghoon would know after all, slowly licking his lips behind you, he focuses on the low groan vibrating out from your chest as you push back up to stand and huff.
“See how that felt different than that weak shit you were doing?”
“Whatever.” Rolling your eyes, you squat for the next 10 minutes, thighs on fire from engaging your muscles in a new, different way. Dumb jerk was right, of course he was.
“Not too shabby.” Sunghoon says, handing you a water bottle from the mini-fridge, because yes, even their gym has a fridge. “But you could be better.”
His pointed teeth protrude at the next roll of your eyes, wrapping long fingers around your upper arm before you’re able to get away. “This wasn’t an invitation by the way, I better not see you in here again during my gym time.”
He winks, smacking your backside as he shoves your arm away. “And I mean that!”
Grunting, you pat off the sweat from your back, ready to hit him with a round of offensive drags about his form.
Sunghoon’s back muscles greet you as you turn back around, jaw falling to the floor with each twitchy flex they give as his triceps burst and he groans with each lift.
Right.
Things could be worse.
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Things could definitely be worse.
Things are definitely worse.
After another email from your professor, your mother begged over dinner for your step-brother to help you pass the classes you’re lacking in. Much to his reluctance and added bribery from his father, he agreed with a forced wide smile, glaring ominously at you from the corner of his eye
“This is such a waste of time.” Sunghoon hasn’t tried to make any qualms about his disdain for your current predicament. Moaning and groaning more than actually bothering to assist you or answer your questions in any type of way, at least when he’s not fixing his perfectly blown out hair if even a strand moves out of place.
“I took this class last year.” He continues to whine. “Wasn’t even hard, well..” his eyes drag over to one side, head shaking at your less than flattering hunched over position. “Wasn’t hard for me, but I suppose for someone like you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You’re quick to snap back, leaning away from your study guide to stretch your arms above your head. Sunghoon doesn’t bother to hide taking in the arch your spine lifts into, chest pushed upward the more you lean back to loosen your shoulders. He even hums appraisingly, pursing out his lips pleased.
“When we were working out together the other day, I noticed something about you.” 
“Before or after you chewed me out for invading your space?” You snicker, rolling your eyes and settling back to sit comfortably. “I told you, I’ll join a gym again and leave you to be at peace.”
“It’s not that.” Sunghoon waves you off, nodding to the stack of study guides. “You need to pass these classes, right?” 
“That’s why I’m here, genius. Taking up your sweet precious time.”
He doesn’t miss the snarky attitude you add, not sparing him attention as you return to rereading the same question for the fifth time.
“I was my high school’s valedictorian, top of the Dean’s list for the past 2 years, scouted by every Ivy League in the world really.” He shrugs, motioning to the display of plaques and honors hung up on his bedroom wall. “You know that though, you can’t be that stupid. Even extraterrestrials wish I’d visit to share my wealth of knowledge.”
“Good God man, get to the point.” You glower, ready to snap the mechanical pencil in your grip in half.
“This tutoring thing is pointless.” He pauses, deciding to leave out the part about you actually being stupid. “Girls like you have no purpose in excelling academically, especially not now with my father’s last name attached to yours.”
“What the fuck does that even mean? Girls like me?” 
Sunghoon smirks, nodding slowly as his gaze drags from your crossed legs up to your torso and the less than fond grimace you stare him down with.
“Girls like you..” he reaches for your knee, walking his index and middle finger up your thigh. “This little emo baggy clothes aesthetic, you’ll grow out of it someday. It’s what your mom wants, right? Judging by the way she scolds every move you make, fixes your hair, makes you wear those drabe goody church outfits around my father to impress him.”
Sunghoon leans in closer, falling to a whisper as his digits reach the top of your thigh. “Who knew what you were hiding under all this,” he tugs on your t-shirt, biting down on his full pink bottom lip. “There’s a standard to uphold now that our parents have wed.”
He licks his top lip purposely, leaving behind a coat of spit that accentuates how perfectly shaped his pout is without even trying. Distracted by his hand playing with your top, you realize too late how close he’s moved his chair to yours. “Money changes people.”
“What? You think I can be easily swayed by a bunch of stuck-up rich assholes like you who think you’re superior just because daddy keeps your bank account full?” Your hand circles his wrist, not without feeling your heart rate spike upon contact. Sunghoon’s as cold to the touch as he looks, grinning when your grip tightens around him.
“I have sure-fire way to find out.” He splits into a smile, gingerly tugging your fingers off his wrist before twisting and rubbing the skin dramatically with a hiss. “Here’s the thing,” Sunghoon stands up, moving to a cabinet full of paperwork, all ordered and labeled much too neatly. 
“You want to pass these classes, right?” He stops to look over his shoulder at your confused face. “Or what was that again? Mommy’s not going to fund your European summer vacation trip? That one you’ve been dreaming about and making Pinterest boards for since middle school?”
“She told you about that?” You grumble, whispering to yourself. “That bitch..”
“Shh, that’s no way to speak about your mother, she’s a lovely woman.” He winks, snapping his fingers. “Here it is. I took these courses my first year of college. Top grades in my class, of course.” Sunghoon shrugs, pulling out two thick folders. “You see because of tutoring, I’ve saved all my study guides, assignments, tests, quizzes, cheat sheets, well— you get the point. Right here, I have everything to help you pass these courses with minimal effort on your part required.”
“Why didn’t you just say that to begin with?” You say annoyed, standing up to snatch the folders from him.
“Nuh-uh-uh—“ Sunghoon has the nerve to laugh, lifting the files high above him and throwing back his head to cackle when you jump up in an attempt to steal them anyway. “Why would I make it that easy for you?”
“Why not??” You grunt, slapping his arm. “You don’t want to tutor me! I don’t want to be here! Let’s do us both this favor so my mom can get off my ass.”
Sunghoon snorts, flicking your chin condescendingly. “First lesson in Economics, everything has a price.”
“You want money??” You ask completely bewildered. “With all the money your dad gives you, you really need more from me??”
He analyzes the distraught anger building up between your wrinkled eyebrows, nodding and smirking. “I didn’t say anything about money.” Sunghoon waves the folders in your face, smacking them lightly on the top of your head before laughing again when you swing at him again. 
“I said a price.” He thumbs through the stacks of paperwork, biting back a smile. “You have something I want.”
He steps closer to you, reaching for the hem of your shirt again. “Something you’ve done a real good job of hiding.”
“Wha—“
Sunghoon tilts his chin in, eyes half-lidded with his head angled lower, grazing a thumb across the waistband of your shorts. “How much are you willing to do for me to get what you need?”
“You’re not serious.” Your palms itch by your hips, ready to slap the growing smirk off his face.
“Maybe I am..” he trails off, dipping his thumb past the button of your shorts. “Depends..” he tugs, pulling your hips to his. “How serious are you about your dream summer vacation? Because if I was you.. I wouldn’t fuck up this opportunity I’m offering you.”
“You—“ stammering, you pull away until the 
backs of your knees meet the edge of his bed, cursing under your breath. “You want..”
“Wanna fuck you?” Sunghoon says flatly, eyebrows raised to patronize you further. “A lot of air passing through that head of yours?”
“Man, fuck you.”
“I’m giving it my all.” He shrugs, throwing the folders onto his bedside table. “Listen, you’re giving me virgin vibes. Is that what this is about?”
“What?!”
“Ah, I should have known.” Shrugging, he points a finger up and down your figure. “You’re one of those prudish types. That’s why you cover up so much, yeah?”
“I’m not a virgin.”
Sunghoon’s shoulders fall, squinting at you apprehensively. “Then what’s the deal? What, you’re the only girl within a 50 mile radius that hasn’t thought about my dick?”
“You’re actually insufferable.” You say, stunned that you’ve even found yourself having this conversation. “Besides, our parents are married now.”
Sunghoon smiles, not a charming or genuine smile, a vindictive terrifying one at best. “Exactly, little step-sister.”
Who knew that the Park Sunghoon is really nothing but your average typical perverted horny young-adult man. You frown, taking in his clean-cut pristine appearance, that shallow sinking sensation of realization melting between your chest.
All men are the same.
“You’ll really help me pass?”
Sunghoon nods greedily, moving into your personal space to nudge your chin. “Trust me, you couldn’t fail even if you tried with my help.”
“Okay.” You whisper, scanning his room for a fast way to escape.. if you need to. “Why me?”
Sunghoon laughs breathily, reaching for the end of your t-shirt to slowly inch up your torso. “Why not you.” He pokes your navel, index finger dragging upward, tracing the center of your stomach up to where your bra lays.
Whiplash hits hard between the churn in your stomach and a shiver rippling up through your limbs. Given any other scenario, one where you weren’t being threatened so-to-speak to pleasure your step-brother, you can’t deny that you’d give in willingly either way. 
Sunghoon in every sense is fatally attractive. From his deep voice, to the aromatic musky sweet cologne wafting off his clean soft exfoliated skin, to his, well, devastatingly gorgeous unflawed face; you have to tell yourself once again, things could be much worse.
“What do you want me to do?”
He grins, tapping your forehead with his free hand, index finger prodding condescendingly. “Not that dumb after all. Knew you had it in you princess.”
Sunghoon cups your breast, thumb pushing at your nipples through the cup of your bra. “Take it off.”
He takes one step back, motioning with his chin for you to hurry up. The easy part is pulling your shirt off, not as if he hadn’t seen you in a sports bra the other day. Crossing his arms, he nods for you to continue, biceps bulged out from where they clench against his chest.  
Heat of embarrassment traces up your neck, smoothing the straps of your bra off your shoulders as you look away and reach back to unhook the clasp, dropping the garment down to your feet. Sunghoon pouts his lips, quietly whistling and returning to his spot, much too close, close enough to lodge one of his thighs between yours. “That wasn’t so hard now was it.”
Cupping your hips, he peers down, taking in your chest up close with the top row of his teeth searching for his bottom lip to dig into. Unbeknownst to you, it’s been awhile.
Four weeks actually, Sunghoon realizes at the first twitch of his length against his pants, lodging himself closer to your center for you to feel it. 
“Very pretty.”
Fastening your waist, his digits dig into your sides, forcing a gasp to spill from your mouth. “I was right.” He says smugly, tickling up past your chest and now hardened nipples. “Noticed those pretty lips first.”
Sunghoon gets your heart racing easily, splaying a palm over your throat as his other hand cups your chin, dipping his thumb into the fat of your bottom lip. “Bet $1000 they’d look even prettier struggling to take my dick.”
His thumb sneaks in past your lips, pressing against the center of your tongue until you whimper, chest pushed up against yours. “Show me how pretty that mouth can look.”
He keeps whispering about your slutty mouth and breasts, thumb shoved into the hilt allowing for you to mimic a blow-job around him. Lips circled around the digit obscenely as you slurp his thumb and dip your head up and down. “That’s it, suck me real fucking good just like that until I cum all over these pretty tits.”
Sunghoon’s thigh jerks up between yours, digging up higher until his muscle flexes against your warm crotch. “No gag reflex princess?” He grins, neck bending in close to lavv at the mess of spit pouring free from your lips suctioned around his thumb. “Messy messy messy.”
The grip on your neck tightens, forcing a burning itch up your throat, eyes squeezing shut as you cough and unintentionally bite down on his hand. “Fuck!”
Sunghoon hisses, tearing his hand away with a shake to get rid of the sting, glaring at you as he returns to grab your jaw roughly. “What the fuck was that?”
Bleary wet eyes stare back at him, bottom lip drawn out innocently, his tongue clicks, shaking his head annoyed. “Don’t fucking do that again.”
Sunghoon rumbles deep within his chest, pushing down on your shoulders until you drop to your knees in startlement, recuperating quickly to get between his thighs as he sits and manspreads before you. He slaps your hands away faster than you can say ‘ouch’, drawing them to your chest with a dramatic pained hiss.
“Not like that,” he tuts, unbuttoning his pants and nodding to the zipper. “I’m even giving you a head start, say thank you.”
Tight-lipped, you crouch in closer and mutter a ‘Thank You’, burning head to toe from the embarrassment, because whether you want to admit it or not, Sunghoon’s hot. You can always fib the truth, but the damp material between your thighs will give you away each time; having to clench your legs together for a bit of relief.
“Good, now remember what I said, no biting.” Sunghoon warns you again, pinching your chin. “No hands either, get me off with that pretty mouth only.”
Lazily, watching you with hooded eyes, Sunghoon reaches lower to run the pads of his fingers down the zipper of his pants, taunting you further. “I’m waiting.” Continuing down, he traces the prominent shape of his cock, starting from the base and working to the tip as he lines the shape. The chubbed up girth clearly visible this up close, already swelling your throat just from looking at it.
The silver zipper gleams back at you, dangling a bit as if to mock you more. Thickly swallowing, you scoot in on your knees, nose brushing the shape on your way to catch the zipper between your lips and struggle to pull it down, his pants tighter from the stretch of his hardened cock ready to rip through the material.
Sunghoon chuckles when you finally manage to get the zipper down, wishing to further humiliate you, if only his cock agreed. “Little princess doesn’t know how to suck dick, huh?” He coos in a fake sweet tone, shifting up to push down his pants past his knees. “What do you say?”
“Thank you..”
“Fast learner, I like that.” He laughs mirthfully, nodding to his hard-on once again. “Let’s see what you got.”
“You said no teeth.” You say, growing annoyed the more you watch his cock throb, confined by the tight material of his briefs. The wet spot at the tip indicates more than enough that he’s tired of waiting. “Take it out!” Rolling your eyes, you slap his knee, demanding he at least do that.
“No wonder you’re failing so many classes.” Sunghoon mumbles, rolling his eyes back at you and shoving his briefs down past the wet head of his cock, widening your gaze as you take all of him in, all.
“Two classes..” you trail off, suddenly antsy as he circles the base of his length and strokes upward fully displaying the full thick long size of his girth. “You’re huge.”
Sunghoon snorts, squeezing under the head for his foreskin to pull back around the bulbous tip, glistening with precum. “Don’t look so terrified, it’s unbecoming.”
Even his fingers brighten with a shade of pink, the whites disappearing as he strokes and tugs against the tip. “Now.” Biting down on his lip he adjusts for the head of his cock to hover near your parted mouth, dragging the wet head slowly along your upper lip. “Let’s see if that gag-reflex is actually nonexistent.”
Without waiting another second he reaches for the back of your head, tangling his fingers through your hair to push your face toward his lap and glide past your lips. The intrusion throws you off initially, coughing around the fat stretch pulling the corners of your lips apart further. “Fuck, feels real good.”
The heavy weight of his cock rushes spits down your chin as he builds up a pace, balls hitting your chin the more he works you up and down while simultaneously lifting his hips up to hit the back of your throat. Sunghoon groans, teeth clicking together from biting down hard to keep his voice low, thrusting harder and rougher until your throat gives and loosens up around him allowing him into the back of your throat. “Oh fuck!”
Finding the perfect angle to have your mouth constricted around his length, he holds you down; ripping tears from your eyes from the constant burn around your lips, incessantly stimulating the inside of your mouth and suppressing your breathing.
It’s agonizing at first, making Sunghoon’s abdominal muscles lock up and suck in from the lack of sound coming out of you. His eyes roll back, circling into your mouth easily in disbelief. 
“Your throats such a perfect little fuckhole for me, huh?” He babbles, finally pulling out. The release pouring out wads of spit down your chin and neck, wide-eyed as you catch your breath.
“Is that pussy wet?” Sunghoon bends forward, reaching to pinch and tug on your stiff nipples, twisting the buds between his fingers. “Don’t lie to me, I can see it all over your face.”
“Y-yes..” succumbing to the invisible weight against your chest, you nod; head dropping shamefully in a weak attempt to hide what you can only imagine the mess looks like all over your chin; staring down blearily at the river of spit and precum running down your chest, meeting in the middle before splitting off under your chest.
“Does it hurt?” Slapping your breasts, he grips one, digits kneading into the fat and pushing it up higher on your chest; his other hand wrapping around your neck to lift your gaze back to him. “Pussy hurts so bad doesn’t it?”
Gulping beneath his grip, your eyes fall shut with a whimper, tears streaking down the sides of your cheeks. Huffing for a breath under his choke as you crumble and can’t find your voice to say more.
“Come on,” Sunghoon shakes your neck, jostling your head, making your eyes snap open. “Fucking look at me.” He bites, reaching his other hand up to stroke your hair away from your face and examine the wads of tears clumping your eyelashes together. Swollen wrecked lips hung open desperately panting for air, lines of wet and dried tears racing down under your chin. “Tell me exactly what your pussy wants.”
It’s more than degrading, because he knows you don’t want it, not really. Not your mind, your heart, but just like the rest, your cunt will always be your downfall. Greedy for cock like any common whore.
“Y-you,” you cry, fitting your hand around his wrist as a silent plea to loosen his grip on your throat. “Wants you.”
Smirking to one side, his gaze sparks with a different type of vindictiveness, one that lets you know that you won’t be getting none of that. Holding your neck back, he scoots forward until his ass nearly hangs from the bed, gripping around the base of his angry blood-filled cock to slap angrily between your chest. The sudden smack of hot flesh on your wet breasts has you arching up, coughing with another squeeze around your throat. “Think I don’t know that princess? I bet you could cum from this alone. You know how big of a slut you have to be to get off just from sucking cock?” 
Sunghoon drops your neck with a wide pleased smirk, releasing his hold on you to scoop under your breasts, pushing the fat mounds together for his cock to perfectly sandwich between with a guttural groan. “Oh fuck, that’s it.”
He thrusts viscously, pumping between your breasts, eyebrows bunched together releasing short breathy hisses through his pursed lips. “Fuck, look at the way those tits bounce, better than a pussy.” Sunghoon groans, slamming his cock in and out, losing his hold on your breasts the more ferocious his movements become. 
“Hold your tits for me.” Sunghoon growls, snarling when you don’t move fast enough. “Push them together, squeeze around me real tight baby.” Grunting, he wraps around the back of your neck, hips moving on their own to fuck between your jiggling breasts, spit and precum guiding the way for his cock to slip right through, the tip hitting the hollow between your collarbone.
Each thrust has you jerking under his control, his hand gripping your nape rougher for more command over his movements. Ramming his girth in and out, he mutters multiple curses, hips twitching up with one last thrust before reaching up into your hair, gathering enough in his hands to create two pigtails.
“Back in that slutty mouth.” 
Sunghoon’s pull on your hair snaps your neck back, mouth popping open for him to freely shove the entirety of his size back inside. The tip of his cock slides past your tonsils, finally making you gag and lurch around him, coughing out copious amounts of drool around his size as he relentlessly hammers in chasing after release.
 “That’s it, that’s it, that’s it!” He shouts between gritted teeth, hips angled to stretch your mouth wide open. Balls deep with every inch of his cock drenched in a mess of spit, the heat and suction from your lips grows overbearing; burying as deep as he can with your nose struggling to breathe against his neatly trimmed pubic hairs. “Ugh!”
Pulling hard enough on the tufts of hair balled up in his fists, he shouts behind sucked in lips, eyes wrinkled shut to stop himself from screaming out loud. Between panted breath, Sunghoon orders you to swallow, grinding his hips forward leaving you with no choice but to comply. Mouth locked around his cock as long streaks of cum shoot inside the back of your throat, gurgling around his length as he fills you up. Tightening his grip on your hair almost punishingly, he pulls the tufts tightly into his fist; cock buried deep ensuring you take every last drop.
“All of it.” he croaks, tone breaking into a rasp. “Swallow all of it.” With one more deep grunt, he pulls out, the last bit of cum spilling out onto your chin. Wet cock dragging down your cheek with a satisfied cocky smirk on his face. 
“You look way too good with my dick on your cheek, could seriously get hard again just from looking at you.” 
Sunghoon sighs, collapsing back on his bed with a long-winded sigh, head dizzy from the aftermath of his orgasm still passing through his limbs. “Fuck that was too fucking good.” He says more to himself, sounding elated, completely missing the grimace painting your face as you lick between your teeth, nose scrunched up.
“Done?”
Sunghoon’s hand lifts, waving your question off. “Yeah yeah.”
He pushes up to stand just in time to see you use the inside of your shirt to clean off your chin and chest, tongue clicking because he should have made you swallow that too. 
“I’ll let you know when we can have our next session.” Sunghoon winks, standing up to wave the packet of completed aced quizzes and assignments over your head. “If only you took school as serious as you take sucking cock.”
Snatching the packet from him, you leer, ripping open his bedroom door ready to run for the bathroom to douse yourself in shower gel and scrub the fuck out of your skin, halted as you come face to face with the other Park. Thankfully not your step-father.
Heeseung’s eyes go wide as if he’s been caught, eyes shifting back and forth up and down the hallway for a way to sneak off. 
“What are yo—“
“I can explain!” Heeseung whispers urgently, running a hand through his hair anxiously, grateful that you closed the door behind you. “I mean, I didn’t hear anything.”
“What?”
“I mean—“‘he stutters, waving goodbye and shaking his head dismissively before jogging down the hall to his bedroom. 
“Weird.”
A much needed shower keeps your mind occupied from delving too deep into what Heeseung could have been doing out there, passing by more than likely. Maybe. Scrubbing your forearms and stomach down until your skin burns, you hiss, replaying the sounds of Sunghoon’s moans and pleasured breathy whines. What the hell did he mean by ‘next session’, did he really plan to make this a recurring activity? 
Why would he want to start up some type of fuck-buddy situationship with you either way? As the bathroom mirror clears up of fog, you brush at the backs of your teeth roughly, swearing that you can still taste particles of his tangy cum. Leave it to some dickhead to be the first to spill his load inside of your mouth, he’s lucky you didn’t regurgitate it and spit it all back in his face.
It’s no worse than the random hot frat guy you’ve hooked up with at a party, or bartenders that slipped you their number at a club to meet up at the end of their shift; other than you know, the whole parents married to each other: siblings through matrimony aspect.
That’s one way to make yourself feel better about what just happened, shrugging it off as you exit the bathroom and make way to your bedroom, paused on the way down the hall to glimpse in the direction of Heeseung’s room. A low murmur of music drifts from his cracked open door, focusing on your hearing at the familiarity. “Is that?”
Too nosey for your own good, you creep toward his bedroom, lighting up at your correct recognition. “You like Deftones?”
Heeseung jolts up in his computer chair, dropping the vinyl record in his hands at your surprise entrance. “Shit.”
“Oh, sorry.” You flinch, hoping your presence didn’t crack the record as it hits his bedroom floor. “Should have knocked..”
“My fault my fault,” he waves calmly, internally screaming with quick a fast analysis of the record and vinyl for any damage. “All good.” He breathes, finally getting a look at you only to choke on his spit at the towel wrapped around your chest. “Oh uh..”
“I love this song.” You nod, moving further into his room to read over the various posters hung up from wall to wall. “Wow, you have good taste.”
“Wait,” he sits up, ignoring the lack of clothing beneath that towel. And the sweet scent of vanilla and peach now filling his room, the driblets of water still clinging to your skin; glowing in a ridiculously unrealistic manner where you stand.. 
“Did you say you like Deftones?”
“Love them.” You correct, moving inside to sit on the end of his bed, thighs pressed together tight. “My favorite band actually.”
“No way.” Heeseung looks down to avoid making it glaringly obvious how hard he’s fighting to not stare at every inch of your exposed skin. “That’s crazy.”
“Why? Because I’m a girl?” You scoff, making your step-brother shake his head. 
“One of my favorite bands too, maybe my all time favorite.” He informs, coughing to clear his throat and stand, moving to a crate full of records. “What’s your favorite release?”
“Probably Diamond Eyes, I won’t lie. This Place Is Death is like the best song ever.” 
Heeseung can feel his ears burn, swallowing as he turns to show you an original copy of the first release of said album. “You have good taste too, I really like Beauty School.” 
“Great choice.”
Heeseung nods timidly, moving to the record player to play your favorite track. “There’s something really out-of-body about this song.”
“Right? It’s like floating, weightless. The vocals and music harmonize together so good, it's like I’m in a dream.”
Heeseung does his best to ignore the suggestive lyrics for now, returning to his seat. “Have you seen them live? I went to their last tour, great setlist.”
Pouting, you shake your head ‘no’, gripping the connected top of your towel to adjust the tightness over your chest. “I wish, my moms kind of.. strict, I guess. I’ve stopped asking her about concerts after hearing no a handful of times. Don’t need another lecture about how this type of music is for the low lives of society, bottom feeders, boot lic—“
“Oh woah woah.” Heeseung interrupts with an uncomfortable chuckle, trying not to take any of it personally. Your mom does seem like a hard ass.. 
“Sorry.”
“No no, I’m sorry, that suck’s seriously.”
Shrugging, you give him a playful frown. “Nothing you could do about it. All she cares about is my looks and grades, and my role in society.” Even if it’s just to end up becoming some wealthy man's stay-at-home housewife to be cheated on someday. Not that you need to bring up that part.
Heeseung pinches his bottom lip in thought, nodding along to what you’re saying, choosing to shove aside the sound of his brother's grunts and heavy panting at the mention of your grades. “They’re playing next week actually, maybe…”
“Oh really? Are you going?” 
He hums, going on about how many concerts he’s been to this year alone. “If there’s a tour in town, I’ll be there.”
“Ah, I’m jealous.” Digging your toes to the floor, you sit up straight and clutch your towel with a mortified expression. “Oh my God, I’ve been sitting here this whole time like this?!?” Rushing to stand, you skitter quickly for the door, turning to bow apologetically. “My heads all foggy, I wasn’t even thinking.”
Heeseung laughs softly, muttering off a ‘no no no it's all good’. 
“My doors usually open,” he shrugs, jokingly mentioning to knock at least so he doesn’t end up wailing out a loud high-pitched scream that he’ll never be able to live down. “Whenever you wanna hang out and listen to music or whatever.”
“I’ll make you regret that.” You grin, waving before making your way out.
Heeseung lets out a long sigh, mostly from releasing the tension in his back after trying(and failing) to fight off his perverse thoughts.
She’s fucking Sunghoon anyway, he reminds himself. Of course she is. Everyone’s favorite Park brother, even their parents.
Heeseung shoves that aside in the meantime, laying back on his bed to enjoy the faint traces of your body wash left behind.
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Heeseung’s been on edge ever since overhearing his brother on the phone, almost forgetting himself of the younger’s relationship. He sits stiffly against his headboard, gnawing at his lip to quell away his nerves. They’d be back soon from picking her up, and luckily luring you to his bedroom had become easier the more you realized how many bands you both listen to.
“So, what are you doing later?”
Even from the side of your face he can tell your eyebrows furrow, confused that he’d even ask. “Mom didn’t tell you about the dinner?”
Bile rises in his throat at the casual way you say mom, swallowing down the need to correct you. Shaking it off, he repeats to himself to focus before time runs out.
“I had plans to meet up with a few friends tonight, we scored some last minute tickets to the Deftones concert a few towns over. Might go explore this new record store beforehand, you’re welcome to come.” Heeseung scratches his nape apprehensively, focused on you thumbing through the crates of vinyls lined up along his bedroom wall. “My friend Jake, he uh.. he can’t make it tonight, change of plans. I offered to buy his ticket off of him if you wanna…”
“A concert tonight?” You frown, ending your search when one of the album covers catches your eye, gently drawing it out and delicately freeing the record. “This is one of my favorites by them, you have good taste”
Heeseung silently agrees, lifting the record player's needle for you to set it in place. “Yeah, we can go out to Rick’s Rockin’ Records too, I haven’t been since they moved to a new location out there. Maybe grab something to eat, or.. whatever you want to do. I already asked dad if I can borrow the car tonight.”
“Hmm,” music thrums from his speaker set-up, the volume low blending in well with the darker atmosphere he’s built in his bedroom. “Can’t do that today, mom said tonight’s really important. Something about meeting Sunghoon’s friend, I don’t know she wasn’t super specific.”
Heeseung sighs, chewing on his nail as he sits down on his bed and watches your hips sway slowly to the beat of the music. “About that—“
“I should probably get ready actually,” you groan, turning to look at him with an annoyed sneer. “If not I’ll never hear the end of it over dinner. Surprised your dad’s letting you go out?”
“Well..” Heeseung stands in an attempt to distract you and try to keep you in his room longer if possible. Not that it would help to keep you away from heading downstairs at some point.. 
“What if I talk to your mom? You said you never get to see them when they tour.” Heeseung says in a rushed panicked tone. “I don’t want this free ticket to go to waste.”
“You would do that for me?” You squint back at him confused, from barely having more than a few run-ins and conversations over music in the last few weeks; his eagerness seems misplaced, unusual even.
“I mean,” Heeseung can feel his mouth drying up, patting his palms down his sides to calm his nerves. “It’s not a big deal.”
The telltale sound of a car engine shutting off outside of his window steals both of your attention, cursing under your breath as you peer through his blinds. “I have to get ready.”
“Wait wait!” Heeseung blocks the door before you can manage to leave, awkwardly stretching his arms out. “The other day, with my brother..”
“Oh.” 
“It’s not like that.” His hand waves, reaching to massage his temples. “There’s something about him that I think you should know.”
“No no, it’s okay. I’m not into him like that.” You lie, avoiding his gaze. “My mom’s making him tutor me, that’s why I was in his room. I mean like, when you saw me.”
Heeseung nods, mouth opening and shutting repeatedly. “Do you like him?”
“What? No.” You answer too fast, huffing out a laugh while peering around him for an escape. “Why would I like him? He’s..”
“Everyone likes Sunghoon.” He says factually, expression drooping as he nods and steps aside. 
Yeah. Everyone. Including you.
The shout of your name breaks your thoughts, saved by the bell as your mothers tone rings out akin to an alarm. Lifting up onto the balls of your feet you apologize and scamper away to rush out of Heeseung’s bedroom. 
“You better be ready!” She follows, making you work urgently to race through your closet for an outfit she would choose for you. Something to make you seemingly presentable enough in the presence of whomever your mother considers ‘important’.
What if it’s one of Sunghoon’s attractive friends? He’s good looking, good looking people tend to know each other, right? He seems to prefer when you show more skin.. but a deadly glare from your mom may not be worth it only for a few fleeting glances of interest.
A knee length high-neck dress can’t make her mad, you’re positive she purchased this for you at some point anyway.
Another shout of your name has you jogging toward the stairs while hopping into a pair of flats and attempting to zip up the back of your dress all at once, the extra hobble down the last few steps drawing a round of attention your way right as you land with a deep breath and smooth out the wrinkles down your front.
“There you are.” Your mother glowers, eyeing you disapprovingly and reaching to tug on one of your earlobes. “Not even a pair of earrings? Could you be more of a slob, darling?” She whispers, wrapping an arm around your back and leading you into the living room. 
Sunghoon stands near his father, back facing the both of you as he nods and laughs at something obscured by their combined size. 
“Our guest just landed an hour ago and still had the decency to at least wear a pair of high heels. What’s your excuse?”
High heels?
“Ah, there you are.” Your step-dad turns, unveiling a petite blonde, still small in stature despite the 5 inch pair of stiletto Chanel pumps pinching her toes. Perfectly feminine and radiant where she stands close to Sunghoon’s side. “This is Miyeon, Sunghoon’s girlfriend.”
Heeseung leans near one of the entrances, gaze bouncing back and forth from his brother, to you, to Miyeon. The air is heavy enough to shatter through glass, freezing you in place with wide eyes. “Girlfriend?”
Sunghoon clears his throat, avoiding your questioning glare as he reaches to pull Miyeon in and places a kiss on top of her head. 
“Yes, they’ve been together since middle school, can you believe that?” 
“No. I can’t.” You say stoically, going fully ignored by your step-brother. 
“Miyeon attends school in New York, but she’s back home for the week.” Your step-father informs, smiling lovingly at his son and his presumed future daughter-in-law. 
“Middle school.” You repeat under your breath, eyes darting around for something to distract you. Heeseung comes near, not missing your surprise. 
“Hey, I’m heading out soon if you—“
“Yes!” You pipe up abruptly, reaching for his arm, aggressively nodding. “Right, the concert!”
“What concert?” Your mother asks, tongue clicking annoyed. “What have I told you about concerts”
“I invited her.” Heeseung states confidently, excusing himself to stand in front of you. “If that’s okay with you, dad? They’re her favorite band and she never gets to see them. I had an extra ticket so I offered..”
“That’s awfully nice of you Hee.” Sunghoon says with a sleek gaze, hugging Miyeon tighter into his side. “What about Jake?”
“He’s feeling sick.” Heeseung snaps back at his younger brother, returning to his father who looks contemplative. 
“That is nice of you.” He reiterates, humming and reaching for his wallet. “Get something to eat too, since you’re not staying for dinner.”
Your mother’s eyes widen at that, biting down hard on her teeth to force a smile. “Ah, I cooked enough for all of us.”
“It will be good for the kids to spend time together.” He shrugs. “Leftovers never hurt anyone darling. Here Hee, don’t stay out too late or your mom won’t be able to sleep.”
He hands over a rolled up wad of cash, reaching for the keys in his pocket. “Take my car, Hoon’s going to need his to drive Miyeon home later.”
“I thought I was staying over?” You hear her whisper to your step-brother, the scowl between his eyebrows unwavering as he glares back and forth from his brother to you.
“Since when have the two of you been close?” He asks, ignoring Miyeon’s question.
Heeseung shrugs, wringing the keys around his fingers. “Learn something new everyday, don’t we?” He subtly peers from his brother to the girl by his side, fast enough to go unnoticed to anyone other than Sunghoon.
“I think it’s nice.” Your step-father speaks up. “I’m happy to see you kids getting along like real siblings.”
Heeseung forces a smile, unable to explain to himself why that comment even bothers him. “We’ll be safe.” He says to your mother, nodding for you to follow him.
“Uhm,” matching his pace you smooth down the dress you wore specifically with your mother’s judgemental glare in mind, not bothering to even say goodbye to Sunghoon nor his girlfriend. “Should I change?” 
Heeseung shrugs, scanning your figure swiftly and scratching the side of his neck. “If you want to feel more comfortable? It’s a general admission show so..”
“Give me a minute, yeah?” He nods, adding that he’ll get the car started as you jog up the stairs and burst through your closet, ripping off the stuffy drab outfit from your skin. ‘What should I even wear to a concert?’
“What the fuck is this about?” Sunghoon surprises you, jumping up with a gasp and tugging a sweater in front of your chest. “Why is Heeseung taking you out?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you have a girlfriend?” You snap back, hissing under your breath after hearing the faint sound of conversation bustling downstairs, Miyeon’s charming laughter sprinkled between. “I wouldn’t have..”
“Wouldn’t have what?” He steps forward, crowding into your space inside of your closet. “Suck my dick the way she never would?”
He smirks, wrapping a hand around the back of your neck and lifting his other to show off a silver band snuggly fitted on his ring finger. “We’re promised to each other.”
Sunghoon whispers, grazing your upper lip. “That means waiting until marriage.”
“You cheated!” You hiss, shoving his stomach. “You made me cheat with you!”
“I didn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to do.” He says in a mean-spirited tone, flicking your chin. “Besides, you think I’d ever treat my future wife like some slut?”
“Fuck you.”
“Soon.” He nods, inching in to lay a soft kiss on your Cupid’s bow. “Anyway, that’s not why I’m here. Whatever this thing is you have going on with my brother, cut it out.”
“There’s nothing going on between us.” You shove, digging your palms against his stomach. “He’s nice, unlike you.”
“Yeah. He’s a real good liar.” Sunghoon grits, easing off you. “I have to get back to dinner, disappointed you won’t be joining us.” 
“Sure you are.” He reaches for your neck again, large palm engulfing most of it. 
“Really wanted to see you try to cover up your guilt.” His tongue clicks, tilting his head to the side to smile. “The look on your face when my dad introduced you,” he sucks in a breath between his teeth, dimpled cheeks sinking in. “It was priceless.”
“Get away from me.” You try to push again, digging your nails into his waist. 
“You thought..” he strokes down your cheek, forehead resting against yours. “That I like you, right? Already dreaming of your step-brother turning into your boyfriend?” He hums, pinching your cheek. “Cute.”
“Sunghoon! What’s taking so long!” Your mother calls from downstairs, halting your next snide remark. 
“One second!” Rolling his eyes, he turns back to you, thumb smoothing under your eye. “Take what I say seriously.” He sighs, pecking your chin and bottom lip. “Don’t piss me off.” With a fake smile and lit up eyes he lays one more kiss atop your mouth, pulling away enough for his words to trace across your lips. “Because I’ll find out, and whatever you think you’ll get away with here— you won’t.” 
Straightening out, he winks, patting your cheek and laughing when you look away with a clenched jaw. “Asshole.” You mutter, quickly pulling out an oversized old t-shirt and shorts to throw on. Having made Heeseung wait long enough, and now even more annoyed than before you forgo the idea of picking out something cute.
It’s just your step-brother anyway, he’s seen you look worse.
Running out of the house before your parents can try bother you with a lecture do’s and don'ts you apologize, hopping into the passenger seat short of breath.
“Sorry sorry, my mom,” you wave, giving your mind a second to conjure up a lie. “You know, doing her mom thing.”
Heeseung smiles, nodding to your seatbelt and backing out of the driveway. “Don’t think we’ll have time to grab a bite before the opener, if that’s okay with you?”
Ignoring the rumble in your stomach, you nod and shoot him a thumbs up. “It’s fine, seriously thank you for getting me out of there.”
Taking in a deep breath you start to settle, watching the road and listening to the soft tune of what you recognize as Deftones latest release, stealing a glance at Heeseung’s phone to confirm. “Can I ask you something?”
“What’s up?” His lips pout, drumming along to the beat as you enter a freeway.
“When you invited me to come with you tonight..” Heeseung clears his throat, shifting in his seat uncomfortably.
“Did you know?” Chewing your lip nervously, you sit up straight to watch his side and the blush rise from his neck to the middle of his face. “About.. her?”
“I’ve known about Miyeon for years.” He says, focused on the road. “I knew she was in town too.”
“Did Sunghoon ask you to keep me distracted?”
He blinks surprised, eyes going wide. “Sunghoon doesn’t speak to me unless he has no other choice.” He says flatly, gripping at the steering wheel tightly, losing interest in the change of song. “I invited you because..”
“You saw what happened the other day?” You ask, turning away remembering the awkward silence you shared with your step-brother after your tutoring session.
“Well no.” He trails off for a moment, letting out a long winded sigh. “I know how my brother is. Wasn’t hard to put two and two together..”
“Are you going to tell our parents?”
Heeseung shakes his head out of the corner of your eye, seemingly flabbergasted you’d even ask that. “I’d never do that. I really mostly invited you hoping to.. yeah, completely avoid this from happening.” He laughs nervously. “I’m not too good at this, whatever this is.”
“No no it’s okay.” You try to emphasize it’s not a big deal, even if the invisible weight crushing your chest says otherwise. “I really appreciate that you thought of doing this for me. I’m excited! This is way better than sitting around eating my mom’s terrible cooking and listening to your dad rant about how amazing Sunghoon is for the hundredth time.”
Heeseung grins, loosening back up, fingers returning to tap along with the music. “He does tend to do that.”
As much as you can’t fight off your thoughts from racing back to Sunghoon, you keep up conversation with your step-brother, both doing your best to avoid bringing him up again. Heeseung made the effort to get you away from a possibly ugly situation, the least you can do is at least try to have fun. Sunghoon will have to be dealt with later.
“Lines not too bad.” Heeseung parks, directing his chin to the front of the venue. “We can probably get barricade.”
“Cool.” You shrug, not wanting to give off how clueless you are about concert culture as you make your way to the line of fans noticing many seem paired off, couples mostly.
Standing by your step-brother lamely attempting to come up with a topic to talk about, you bump into his side to relieve some tension. “I’m seriously so excited.”
Heeseung’s eyes meet yours, soft and large as he takes in your face up close and nods. He contemplates a reply, sorting from ‘I’m happy to hear that.’ and ‘that’s good, I’m glad.’ Before looking away and muttering.
“Should be a lot of fun.”
When Heeseung had mentioned getting a spot on the barricade you hadn’t realized he meant being front row, as you passed the ticket check and made your way inside he pointed out an empty spot the two of you could squeeze into, albeit a bit tight you managed to get in together and celebrate. “I can’t believe we’re in front!” You squeal, hopping up and down slightly.
“We really lucked out.” He glances around, wishing he’d at least had enough time to hit up the bar for drinks before the opener. Usually Jake could handle holding down a spot for them but given your naivety he opts to stay by your side. “I know you haven’t been to any concerts before but just a heads up, the crowd can get a little rough.”
“Oh, a lot of pushing?”
“Yeah.” Heeseung notices you’re surrounded by mostly larger men, a few girls sprinkled around here and there. At least the audience had a good mixture of both in comparison to the usual show. “If you’re uncomfortable at any point, let me know okay?”
“Ah, I don’t want you to worry about me.” You say, anxiously fixing your hair, only now realizing just how crammed in and close you are to everyone. The warmth building against your back grows suffocating as minutes go by. “I’ll be fine Hee.” 
Heeseung’s cheeks warm up, blaming it on the crowd filling out and getting heavier around him; not the shortened nickname that you’ve never used with him before. The opener finishes setting up, riling everyone up with their introduction and fast paced music. True to your step-brother’s warning, the pushing shocks you initially, throttled forward to be stuck against the top of the barricade railing. You smile through the sting of pain hitting the top of your ribcage, mentally noting to check for bruises later.
“Definitely need to check them out after that.” Heeseung swipes his phone open, tapping to follow the band. Showing no signs of discomfort he turns to you, smile falling. “You good?”
“Yeah yeah, uhm Deftones go on next?”
He shakes his head, full on frowning and snaking his arm around your shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay if you don’t feel good up here, we can move to the back.”
“No!” Draping your hands flat on the barrier, you push up to straighten your spine, cringing at how it aches already. “I want to watch from up here.”
Heeseung’s mouth shifts to one side in thought, eyeing the area around you before bracketing his arms on the barrier. “Get in front of me.”
“What? Why?”
“I’ll stop the shoving.”
“But you’ll get pushed..” you hesitate, hearing snickers from a group of guys behind you.
“I’ll be fine,” Heeseung motions, encouraging you to move in front of him. Easing into the space he created for you, a sense of relief washes over you, taking in short breaths of air without 3 bodies crushed against you. 
He taps the top of your head with his chin, leaning to the side of your face with a smile. “Better?”
“Yeah, thanks Hee..” you offer an embarrassed smile, already feeling ashamed that your step-brother did all this to end your humiliation in the first place.
Heeseung does his best to ignore the bickering and scoffs around him, especially the group behind whispering about how the two of you should move to the back. ‘It’s not our problem that your girlfriend can’t hang.’
His neck prickles with sweat, ears perked up listening to the rest of their conversation. ‘Pretty prissy girls like that have no business up front anyway. Dude needs to leave his little girlfriend at home next time.’
Biting down on the backs of his teeth he has to stop himself from twisting around to yell that you’re not his girlfriend, saved by the next band that starts up; he relaxes and keeps the crowd away from you; accepting the brunt of the pain himself.
This is something a guy would do for his step-sister too, right? Why assume you’re his girlfriend, you could easily just be a friend..
Everything’s mostly smooth from there until Deftones attack the stage and guitar riffs blast through the speakers, swaying the crowd unanimously to follow along with the beat. He curses, clenching his fist on the barrier to keep you from following the force of eager bodies.
“Hee, are you okay?!” You ask in a panic, placing your hands over his fist. He nods fast, biting on his tongue as your fingers loop between his to hold him closer to you. His slow reaction allows enough space for another body to squeeze its way through the front, plastering his chest to your back with a gasp from the extra lack of space.
“I’m good! I’m good!” He says, trying to keep his cool with a smile and focus on the show that you’ve been waiting for. “It’s your favorite song!”
Heeseung nods ahead, too worried about keeping you safe to even take in that you’re fully crushed under him, the barrier digging into your chest. Trying his best to enjoy the show he shakes his head and sings along with the words he can remember, breath caught when your head lays back on his chest and you smile up at him.
“I love this song!” 
This isn’t Heeseung’s favorite song, but he remembered that it’s yours, and right as you pull your conjoined hands to lay against your stomach; this song sounds better than ever. 
“I love it too.”
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“That was soooo much fun!” 
The two of you managed to squeeze through the crowd fast, your step-brother mentioning wanting to check out the merch before you head out. “I’m sooo sweaty.” you say, shaking off your shirt.
Heeseung looks over the tour shirts hung up, digging out the money his dad gave him. “Want one? We have enough.”
“Oh yeah, that one's really cute!”
“We’ll take two of those.” Heeseung points at the t-shirt, counting enough cash out for both.
“Matching couple tour shirts.” The merch guy says with a laugh. “So cute how many of you think of concerts as date nights.”
“What?” He says with a gulp, peeking from the corner of his eye at your surprised reaction. “We’re no—“
“That’ll be $50, knocked off $10 for the good looking pair.” He winks, passing you the shirts. “Now make this guy go buy you something to eat honey, and whatever you do after, it’s none of my business.”
“Uhh..”
“T-Thanks.” Heeseung stammers, hooking your elbow to drag you out of the crowd toward the exit. The air suddenly a lot tighter and harder to breathe in.
“That was weird, right?” You ask, following him to the car. “Well,” you pause, eyeing him over. “I guess we don’t look alike at all.” 
“People don’t assume the opposite sex can be just friends anymore I guess.” He scoffs, opening the passenger door for you. “He was right about one thing though, you hungry?”
“Starving.” You reply, tossing your bag onto the seat. “But first.”
Heeseung’s eyebrows lift, taking a step back as you begin to remove your shirt, mouth hung open confused. “What are you doing??”
“Told you, I’m drenched.” You say, fanning your chest. “I’d take off my bra too..” you shyly smile, shaking open the new shirt your step-brother just paid for. “Pretend I didn’t say that.”
Tugging on the shirt, you reach around beneath to pull off your bra straps, struggling to unclasp the back. “Sorry Hee, can you help?” 
He swallows, eyes gone wide and nodding. “Uh, yeah sure..”
Heeseung moves behind you, pushing the shirt up to your shoulder blades and biting down on his tongue to not comment on how soft your skin feels. No. That’d be weird, right?
“I think the clasp is stuck..” he mumbles, nervously toying with one of the bra clasps that won’t unlatch.
“Ugh, fuck.” You sigh, swatting the air behind you. “Just rip it off.”
Heeseung tightens his lip, air pushing out of his nose to not groan. “Okay.”
He pulls the connected material apart, the sound of seams snapping and popping open under his strength following.
“Jesus, get a room man.” A drunk concert goer slurs out as he passes by, your bra coming undone finally right as your step-brother curses and presses in close to hide your exposed lower back. 
“Fuck off.”
“You know what? He has a point.” You laugh, shaking the t-shirt down your torso. “My step-brother removing my bra for me should probably be done behind closed doors..”
Heeseung can feel his chest rumble from your laughter, shoulders and upper back shaking against him. Instinctively taking a step back before vibration can travel lower as he imagines exactly that.
“Pizza sounds good.” He changes the subject fast, moving to get inside and get the engine warmed up. “You down?”
“Pizza sounds great.”
The two of you fall into easy conversation, excitedly discussing your favorite songs and parts of the concert. Easily finding a place open for 24 hours on the way home, albeit the slices of pizza more stiff and cardboard-like at this late hour with only one employee working the night shift.
“I hope it wasn’t too hard on you, having to watch out for me.” You say apologetically. 
“Wasn’t a big deal, seriously, don’t mention it.”
“I felt really bad though.” You lament, helping him by carrying the box of pizza. “You still got to enjoy the show, right?”
“Are you serious?” Heeseung waves you off, reaching for the passenger door again before you can open it yourself. “Best concert I’ve ever been to.”
“Right?!?” You joke, settling back into your seat with a laugh. “I say as if I’ve ever been to any others, but I have a feeling this will be one of my favorites.”
“I’ll take you to more concerts.” Heeseung hums, tapping the steering wheel before taking off. “Do you wanna go home right now? Or like..”
“Nah, mom will kill my dopamine high if I have to talk to her right now.”
“You’re right.” Snapping his fingers, he mentions the time. “There’s a park not too far from home, it’s empty by now. We can go there to eat and rush home fast if our parents get mad about the hour.”
“Sounds good.”
The parks nice and quiet, a few street lamps barely lighting up the small area where you settle at the top of the jungle gym and sit facing the street with your legs dangling from the top level of the structure.
“Pizzas not that great.” Heeseung laughs, shrugging, stuffing his mouth regardless.
“It’s perfect for a midnight snack.”
Agreeing, you fall into a comfortable silence, attempting to hide your shiver as a chilly breeze passes through. It’s too nice to head home now, unwilling to unless your phone starts to buzz with your mother shouting on the other end.
“Cold?” Heeseung removes his hoodie before you answer, leaning over to lay it down on your shoulders.
“Now you’ll be cold.”
“Don’t worry about me.”
He nods, looking away to admire the speckles of stars scattered between smog and clouds. Heeseung’s really nothing like his brother. No, because Sunghoon wouldn’t wish to spend time with you in this way, unless it involved his dick in your mouth or wherever..
“Hee, can I ask you something?”
Turning to face you, his lips tremble a bit from the rising crisp night air, raising goosebumps along his arms. “What’s up?”
“This is probably..” you hesitate, pulling his hoodie in tighter to your chest. “I mean, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to..” The skin between his eyebrows folds together, head bobbing up and down for you to continue.
“It’s just, Sunghoon..”
Heeseung sighs, leaning back on his palms and dropping his head back. “I don’t know what he thinks about you, he doesn’t talk to me.” He says calmly before you can finish, laying back down flat with his eyes shut. “Sorry, can’t help.”
“It’s not that—well I mean..” you lower, laying on your side to watch his eyelashes twitch against the tops of his cheeks. “You guys really don’t talk and I guess I’m nosey..”
“Oh.” Heeseung blinks, eyes going wide at the realization of how close you are. “You mean like why we don’t talk?”
“Yeah.”
He shrugs, nibbling his bottom lip from side to side nervously. “We used to be really close, inseparable until our parents got divorced.” His eyebrows furrow, smoothing his palms together onto his stomach. “Hoon lived with our mom for a few years, he was always her favorite.”
Regret begins to seep through your chest, feeling like an asshole for even asking now. Of course their rift had to be more personal than some petty feud between brothers..
“We were still somewhat close during that time, but much like now, dad favored Hoonie too. He’s the baby, you know how it is. He needed more attention and coddling I guess.” Heeseung shrugs again, mostly to keep the topic light. “When we were kids he really looked up to me.. at least I always thought so.”
His breath deepens, releasing longer exhales and shutting his eyes again. “Mom got sick, really sick..”
“I’m sorry Heeseung, you don’t have to tell me..” 
“It’s okay.” Tucking in his upper lip, his eyes squeeze tightly, taking deep breaths before continuing. “I kind of dealt with her illness.. maybe improperly? I don’t know, I was a kid..”
“I’m sorry..”
“Hoonie..” his eyes stay shut, squeezing together at the mention of his brother. “When she passed away, I think he really needed me. I couldn’t be there for him.”
Silence thickens between the two of you, laying back down fully by his side in hopes of offering some type of comfort, a silent one of upper arms flushed together.
“I sort of lashed out..” Heeseung goes on, voice more strangled. “I blocked him out when he needed me the most and when the time came that I needed him,” he shrugs softly, huffing. “He wasn’t there for me anymore. I can’t blame him.”
Anything you can think of to say evades your mind, coming up blank with words that would be enough to show your sympathy. Without much thought other than how nice your step-brothers been, you reach for his hand and loop your fingers between his; bringing them down between your sides with a squeeze.
“He looked up to me when we were younger.” Heeseung at least sounds less tense, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes relaxing. “It didn’t really help that he was getting bullied at school too back then. He was a runt, small thing.” There’s an evident smile in his tone now, small enough to barely lift the corner of his mouth.
“I should have stepped in and defended him but..” he grips your hand tightly, thumb brushing back and forth. “Don’t think I regret anything more than those years.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“In some ways.” Heeseung clears his throat, lips pouting. “The least I could have done was take care of him, he’s my baby brother after all..”
“Nothing could have prepared any of you for what happened. Someday he’ll understand that..”
Heeseung wishes he could agree, but while his mourning period led to sadness and a crushed sense of hope, his brothers landed him in darkness. A cold bitter darkness, gradually day by day stripping away the last specks of light that once made up all of Sunghoon. 
“Yeah.” He lets out a tired sigh, head shaking and forcing a smile. “I’m sure someday we’ll live our own lives and he’ll see me as his trustworthy older brother again.”
“Thank you for sharing that with me.” 
“Haven’t talked about this in such a long time honestly.” He smiles, lifting your hands to rest on his stomach again. “Dad would be shocked by how much we’re getting along right now.”
“It’s weird, right?” You laugh meekly, eyes drifting to your conjoined hands. “That you’re like…” drifting off, your nose crinkles; recalling your friends joking about which of your step-brothers you’d be hooking up with first. “My brother.”
Heeseung’s eyes open up, stomach folding in from shooting up, letting out a hollered laugh. “Oh that was really weird, especially after having to hear that you’re my girlfriend from random strangers for the past 3 hours.”
He sits back up, easing his hold out of yours to smooth a palm down his nape out of nervous habit. 
“I can understand them.” You sit up with him, grabbing onto one of the steel bars to lean in closer to him. “We don’t make a bad looking couple.”
Heeseung’s thankful for the lack of lighting as heat rushes up his neck and burns its way under his eyes, cheeks more than likely bright pink full of blood. “Ah—well, good thing I’m not your type.”
“What?”
“You like Sunghoon.” He says nonchalantly. “Everyone likes him, he’s my brother so like—no I don’t get it.” He chuckles awkwardly. “I see the way everyone fawns over him though, pretty used to it by now.”
“I don’t like Sunghoon.” You grumble. That’s a lie, possibly, or maybe a conversation you’re not ready to have with yourself, let alone your step-brother. “And honestly, you’re way more my type than him.”
“Right.”
“I’m serious!” You shriek, reaching for his bicep. “Oh my god, you’re freezing!”
“It’s not that bad, feels good after being stuck together in that pit.”
“Come here,” scooting closer to him, you pull him into your chest, arm wrapping around his back to draw him into your warmth. “Can’t have you getting sick on me, we have concerts to go to now.”
Heeseung blinks furiously, tucking his chin in to ignore the rapid pace his heart gains, beating against his chest fiercely enough to fear that even you can feel it. “You’re right.” He keeps it short, lips trembling more due to his nerves than the temperature.
“This feels nice.” 
He nods, shifting slightly to rest his arm around your lower back and make the position you’ve ended up in more comfortable. “We should probably head home though, before your mom realizes you’re not safely tucked in bed.”
“I don’t know Hee.” You murmur, digging your nose into his now dried head of hair, a tangy scent of sweat and shampoo left behind. “I don’t want this night to end.” Or to have to see your brother again, let alone deal with whatever that was all about earlier..
Heeseung shivers against your chest, more from his excitement, but accepts the coo you let out and soothing rub down his spine. “Okay okay, don’t want you to catch hypothermia. You’re right, it’s getting late.”
“Sorry,” maintaining eye contact with his lap, he removes himself from your hold, taking deep breaths to ward off his thoughts. 
She’s your sister. She’s your sister. She’s your sister.
Step-sister.
“Before we go, I really do want to say thanks for everything.” You say, completely unaware of the mental war your step-brothers battling with. “From getting me out of the house, the concert, this cute shirt.” You lean back, pulling at the hem, only pronouncing your breast more through the material; not allowing him much of a choice but to look and notice how hard and obviously perked your nipples poke through. Right.. your bras currently residing in the backseat of the car..
“The pizza, bringing me here.” You list out everything, sporting a giant smile. “I seriously haven’t felt this happy in awhile. I kind of.. really needed this before losing my mind.”
Heeseung returns the smile, sharing your sentiment silently. “I’ll do my best from now on to make this a part of our routine.”
“It’s really a shame.”
“Hmm? What is?”
“That our parents ended up together.” You mumble, scanning his face anxiously. “You’re better than—I don’t know.. kind of lame to admit but I tried to picture different scenarios in which we’d somehow get to know each other.” You struggle to say, sucking air between your teeth. “Ah, I guess I kind of had a crush on you? Not really? But kind—“
Heeseung’s thighs bounce against the jungle gym, resisting the urge to lunge at you and smother you in kisses. The need grows harder and harder the more you go on and demurely shift around to avoid his gaze. It’s the whiny pout you fall into while saying you may or may not have had a crush on your step-brother that sets him off; pushing his upper half toward you and dropping the weight of his mouth upon yours with heated urgency.
It’s harder and sloppier than he intends for, swatting away every thought and emotion that could fully develop since the day you stepped inside of his bedroom with a curious glint in your eye. Beyond physical attraction, Heeseung can’t stop the annoying itch in his chest, the one warming him up from inside out everytime you’ve looked at him tonight. His nose crushes into the side of yours, the seam of his lips engulfing more of your top lip than managing to act out an actual kiss.
Drawing away with flushed cheeks, he licks his lips and begins spewing out an apology, shaking his head embarrassed. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, I’m—“
The back of his head bounces against the metal walls behind him, hissing against your lips shoving into his. Mouth more commanding than his as you scramble to invade his space and drop your bottom onto his lap. 
“Sorr—“
“Shh, kiss me back, kiss me.” Between rushed bated breath and a messy lock of lips, you rock further into him, reaching for the holes scattered around the jungle gym walls to bury your fingers in and cage his head between your arms.
Heeseung’s hands flail for a minute, slapping down on your hips to grab onto something with a groan as your tongue probes between the line of his lips for access. The wet slip of your tongue glides through easily, making him gasp inside of your mouth as you wiggle a way through to taste the spit gathered at the sides of his tongue.
“Woah,” he draws back, lips already swollen from the short kiss. “What—we can’t!”
“Why?” Your eyebrows lift, concerned but dropping your bottom onto his lap hungry for more. “You don’t feel it??”
“What?!” Heeseung sits up, belting your waist to keep you in place, regrettably as you swivel in place right against his groin. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t you like me?” You say pathetically, nearly ready to give up the more humiliating this becomes.
“Of course I do!” He laments, massaging up your sides. “I think I like you way more than I’m supposed to.”
“Hee, you’re not my brother.” You state, tucking his cold hands inside of your shirt to warm up against your stomach. “There’s nothing wrong about us kissing.”
Heeseung swallows, telling himself- well that’s simply not true. Other than that fact alone that you are… sleeping with his younger brother. 
“It’s late.” Heeseung sighs, pretending to yawn. “Let me take you home and we can talk about this after a good night's rest.”
“You can’t be serious.” Half offended and with a last stitch of effort you grab onto his hands, pushing them up your stomach, brushing along the underside of your breasts. “I know you feel it.”
Heeseung gulps, head dropping back against the jungle gym with a groan. “Yeah I.. I feel that..”
“It’s okay Hee, I want you.” Leaning in, you capture his mouth once more, sucking in his bottom lip as your hands encourage him to squeeze your chest. 
As hesitant as he feels, Heeseung can’t stop himself from squeezing your breasts, eyes fluttering shut as his length throbs inside of his boxers. “I want you too, you have no idea how bad I want this..”
“Let me see,” you say between kisses, rubbing your tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Show me, do anything you want with me.”
Heeseung’s stomach sinks, unable to stop his mind from drifting to the rough sounds he heard coming from his brother’s bedroom. What if you’re expecting him to be like Sunghoon..
“Please, let me take you home at least. I promise..” he breathes between your lips, softly layering kisses. “I’ll show you.”
“Ugh, fine.” Reluctantly you agree, it is cold out here after all and anyone could walk by, not that you’d mind the idea of getting caught..
Heeseung struggles to tear away from your mouth on the way back to the car, spending another extra 5 minutes with you pressed up to the door and his hands roaming freely under your shirt again. “If you don’t drive me home right now I am going to take off my clothes right here.”
“Okay okay.” He chuckles, running around after getting you inside and clicking your seatbelt. Heeseung mentally pats himself on the back for choosing a park not far from home, especially when you pull his right arm away from the steering wheel to guide him between your thighs.
“I’m so wet for you Hee.”
Practically crashing as he turns into your neighborhood, he coughs, squeezing your inner thigh and speedily parking to get out as fast as he can. “My room.”
Heeseung wraps your arms around his waist, a soft smile spreading across his lips as you both struggle to get up the stairs with your limbs locked around each other. “Your room because you wanna play DJ?”
He blushes, turning the doorknob behind his back and draw you into his bedroom. 
“That obvious?”
“You’re really cute.” You confess, bunching the sides of his shirt up in your fists to keep your bodies close. “Like really really cute.”
Heeseung’s cheeks could alert the fire department, burning up his face hot enough to make his eyes water up. “Ah, you think I’m lame.”
“I think you’re..” the two of you shuffle toward his bed, slowly lifting his top up to his waist. “Sexy..” 
He pulls it off the rest of the way for you, tossing the shirt aside, feeling shy even in the dim lighting entering from the window; breath caught in his throat as you duck to lick his chest, lips trapping one of his nipples with a gentle suck. Fingernails trail down his abdomen, grabbing onto the waistband of his jeans.
“No no..” taking a hold of your hands as you start to unzip him, he stammers taking in your mouth falling to a frown. “No! I mean, feels really good, but..”
Heeseung squeezes your hips, lifting you off your feet for less than a second to set you down on his bed. “Let me show you.”
Running a hand through his hair, he blushes furiously, positive you can feel the heat radiating off his face. He makes fast to the record player, dropping the needle in place to start the album he’d been listening to earlier, your favorite one.
Bending over your body, he bites down on his lips, softly pushing your shirt up your torso as the gentle hum of music reverberates around you.
Don’t wanna take it slow, I wanna take you home and watch the world explode from underneath your glow
Heeseung leaves your shirt just beneath your breasts, hovering over you to kiss along the top of your ribcage, following a path downward to your navel until his mouth meets the button of your shorts. The slow rise and fall of your chest calms his worry, unbuttoning you and easing your bottoms down to your ankles for you to kick away. He shifts down to his knees, prying your thighs open gently, allowing him a perfect view of your drenched through panties completely molded to your core.
“You’re sexy.” Perfect even, Heeseungs says to himself, planting kisses up the sensitive skin lining your inner thigh. “Cute, pretty, hot.” Kissing his way up, he takes extra time to suck on the tender skin where your thigh meets your center. “So so so sexy..”
A low whine sounds above him, your back arching upward the more he teases, tracing the dip between your center and shoving the material of your underwear into your entrance. “Hee!” 
“Shhh…” he licks the dip, tongue stiffening to push your underwear between your slit, tracing up to your clit to suck on through the soaked ruined fabric. Heeseung can’t take it anymore, innate hunger winning against his willpower as he holds your thighs open, planting them to spread out on his bed and drag his nose between the seam taking in a deep inhale. Slurping up the mess of wetness that seeps through the material of your underwear, most of it hitting his chin, trickling down onto the bed.
The groan vibrating against your core has your hips lifting, seeking a way to close your legs out of embarrassment that he could be smelling everything. “Hee, thats—“
Greedily sucking the rest of the wetness that’s smeared along the insides of your thighs, he has to shove aside how hard and painful his cock throbs. That can come later, figuratively and literally.
Playing with the trim lining the waistband of your underwear, he rubs the fabric between his fingers before rolling it down past your knees with practiced finesse; quickly clutching your thighs in a firm grip before you can manage to shut them, he pushes them down as wide as they’ll spread, fully exposing your core. 
Heeseung’s breath catches, nearly groaning at the up close visual of your swollen aroused cunt, dripping a lewd amount out all the way down to his bedding. “So pretty.” He blows, sending a tremor up your thighs. “Just as pretty down here as you are everywhere else.”
Leaning in before you can let out another shattered cry, he licks a thick stripe from your entrance up to your clit. Humming in the back of his throat as your arousal pours down to the back of his tongue. Velvety engorged folds spread out against the pressure of his wide tongue working back and forth to touch each crevice between your legs.
Heeseung can hear your breath quicken and grow louder, plunging into your pulsating wet hole with his nose rubbing against your clit. He groans, dizzy, drunk and brainless as he rubs his face back and forth. Lapping past the resistance of your muscle, he licks and sucks, collecting the wetness pouring from your dripping pussy to swallow down like water. The fingers reaching into his hair pull him to bury in deep, jaw stretching until he hears a crack. He grunts from the pulls on his scalp, slipping free from your cunt to lick up the sides, between your folds, outside and in until his tongue has tasted every inch. 
“Oh my God Hee!” Your feet kick, just barely under his unrelenting hold to keep you spread open. Dragging his tongue up and down repeatedly until a mess of slick covers him from chin to forehead. “S’too—too much, ah—“
His lips press to your clit, sucking the fat nub between his lips with extra force that has you biting down on your hand to not scream. “You’re—no, I’ll—I’ll cum!” Whining, you grow more impatient, unable to stop your hips from twitching up even under his large palms pressing you down. Heeseung could care less, 
lost in the scent and heat of your cunt, he sucks and licks your clit mercilessly, flicking the bud roughly with the tip of his tongue.
“Oh!” Your face squeezes tight, head pushing off from the bed, arching against his mouth giving you no rest. “I’m cumming—I’m cumming!” You chant, mouth hanging open without breathing as an intense orgasm rips through your body, choking on your breath and finally writhing free from Heeseung’s hold when he doesn’t stop; lapping at your freshly spilled entrance like a thirsty dog.
“E-enough.” You tremble, shutting your thighs and turning onto your side, shirt drifting up under your neck and armpits leaving you mostly bare.
Heeseung sits up on the bed, kissing up the side of your thigh to your hip. “Wouldn’t have stopped, you taste so good.”
Now it’s your turn to hide, tucking your face into one of his pillows with a whine. “Ahh, don’t say that.”
“It’s true.” The clink of his zipper lowering follows, turning back around to lay flat and remove your shirt just in time to see Heeseung kick away his pants and boxers, cock standing hard against his stomach; high enough for the head to hit his navel.
He’s big too. 
Biting your lip, you sit up to kiss him, making a face at the amount of slick still coating his chin. Heeseung had no plan to clean any of it off. 
He stares at you wide-eyed and breathless, leaning over you until you lay flat on your back again, brushing hair away from your face. Going in for the kiss first this time, he opens your mouth up with an aggressive push of his tongue; licking inside of your mouth similar to the way he ate you out, messy, greedily drinking the spit that escapes past your lips. More swollen and bitten raw once he settles against your chest and scoops the back of your thighs around his hips.
Leaving your knees bent to cage around him, Heeseung smooths a palm down between your breasts, down past your stomach to grab a hold around his length. He bites down, already covered in your arousal in less than a minute of your lower halves touching. “So wet.” Mumbling to himself, he delivers a few strokes to his length, spreading your slick down to the tip, not that you need the extra lubrication.
Heeseung’s hand trembles around the base of his cock, a reminder of how nervous he actually is as he drags the tip between your folds, dipping in and out of your entrance just enough to have your head spinning. Pawing at his chest to give you more as he teases and groans at how loud the sound of your wetness radiates; pushed in and out against the kisses meeting his cockhead.
“Hee, please, please fuck me.” You say, feeling delirious with each empty deceived clench from your body, chasing after the stretch only his cock can give you.
Finally pushing in past the tip, his chest lays flat against yours, stealing the gasped moan you let out with a fierce kiss. Burying in deeper until he meets obstruction and lets a broken cry inside of your warm wet mouth. 
“F-fuck me baby,” you moan, sucking his bottom lip in with hard bite. “Show me, show me.”
Heeseung’s forehead wrinkles, biting down and grinding his teeth to not whimper between short staggered breaths. He won’t last if he fucks you the way he really wants to. The way he needs to.
Nodding rapidly, he tries to memorize every squeeze that your soft wet wall's pulse around him. Wet, so insanely wet, pouring down to his balls, forming a mess between even his thighs. Heeseung lifts back with heavy eyes to watch your face fall apart, tongue lolled out with nothing behind your eyes but unruly lust. “Fuck me.”
He lets go, rolling his hips forward as hard and deep as you can take him.
“Oh fuckkk!” Heeseung gasps as you arch against him, slapping his chest with balled up fists. It’s better than either of you could have imagined, chasing a fast release off instinct alone while still holding back to make each sensation last longer.
“You’re so tight,” Heeseung says with a linger of pain in his tone. Taking a hold of your wrists, he pins them to your chest, gently shushing your cries. Slowly dragging his cock out halfway and back in to ease the stretch. “You okay?”
A choked moan passes through your lips, nodding fast. “S-so big.”
Kissing your chin, Heeseung nods and loosens his hold on your wrist, easing your hands to lay flat by your head. “Relax for me,” taking a deep breath, he pushes in to the hilt, lower back aching the more he holds himself back from fucking you in earnest and pounding you through his bed. “Can you do that for me?”
A faint ‘yes’ shudders out, losing your breath as he starts to drag his dick out, hissing with each reflexive clench you give him. Heeseung tries, he really tries to hold back, pushing through your heated resistance slowly, but with each glide back in a mess of slick wetness drips out past the intrusion of his size. The smear of wetness leaking down to his thighs in fat wads now, coating the back of your ass and thighs, making each collision of your meeting skin more debauched. 
Another squeeze around him has a broken cry ripping from his throat, moistening the backs of his eyes as he finally breaks and snaps forward to bury in balls deep, making you feel every inch. Heeseung rides through your clamped heat, thrusts turning erratic with his digits finding purchase in your wrist; painfully digging his nails into the soft skin hard enough to leave behind marks of crescent moons.
Rapid tightening pressure around his cock draws more effort on his part, planting his knees on the bed to fuck you with more strength behind his hips. Through the wet layer fogging his gaze he finds your eyes, blown wide with your mouth hung open pouring saliva from the corners. His heart jumps fiercely enough to make him fear it could erupt, ears gone numb to all other than the wanton sounds of your whimpers traced between the song playing.
No one else has a hold over me like you do
You open up the covers, you lure me in
Tackle me anxious, back into bed
Well, I hope to discover all of your ways
This place is death, I know you feel the same
He can’t stop the embarrassingly desperate noises that drip from his mouth as he fucks you with renewed urgency, pressing down until you are chest to chest to snake his hands under your ass and push your hips against his. The new angle gets him in even deeper somehow, nose scrunched up as a strong wave of heat runs rampant in his stomach, tightening up the heavy weight between his thighs. “C-close—I’m so so c-close.”
Struggling to keep up his thrusts the more you tighten up, Heeseung shifts, smoothing down the side of your thigh to wrap around the back of your knee and push your thigh up. The mind-numbing pleasured cry you let out has him fucking into you with abandon, desperate to get you off before he can finish. 
“Come on,” he grits, fingers digging into your leg, calve jostling by your head under the force of his weight pummeling against you. “C’mon baby.” He hits deep, the head of his length kissing your cervix, grinding with a low growling moan.
“P-plea—“ breaking off, your neck bends back, eyes meeting the back of your skull letting a silent cry fly free. Heeseung tries to fuck you through it, beginning to sweat down his face as he grips onto your leg harder and rams forward. 
“Fuckmefuckme,” you babble deliriously between whimpers, tears spilling down your cheeks. “W-want it, cum inside me, f-fuck—want it, want it!” You moan, half pained by over sensitivity the longer he goes, reaching to run your fingers through his hair in search of something to pull on.
Heeseung grunts, leaning in to lick the droplets of salty tears dangling from your chin, gone senseless beyond the addictive warmth sucked around his cock. “I-I’m—fuck!”
A handful of sloppy thrusts more has his balls clenching up, so heavy where they slap and land against the crevice of your ass. He curses, burying himself as deep as your body can take to spill inside. Cock thrumming madly with each shot of hot streaks of cum pouring out. “C-cumming” he gasps, mouth gone dry with spit covering his chin, slumping down onto you with a long sigh.
“Hee..” you cough, leg dropping from his weakened hold. “Can’t breathe.”
“Sorry sorry..” Heeseung bites his lip, pushing his upper half up on numbed arms, slowly drawing his hips back. “Ugh..” he has to look away as white creamy release chases after his length, cock throbbing from the sight of your needy hole gaping open and shut. “Sorry for that..”
“It’s okay.”
He reaches for your shirt before settling back next to you, eyes heavy with sleep and cheeks bunched up from a lazy smile.
“I should probably go to my room before my mom wakes up.” You say sadly, dragging a finger down his lips. “Don’t want to.”
“Don’t want you to.” Heeseung kisses, chasing after your finger with an open mouth. “We can just tell her the truth, that you slept in here.”
“The whole truth?”
“Well, no..” he says, capturing the tip of your finger to suck around, slowly sliding off with a wet pop. “She’d probably never let you out of the house again if she found out about..”
“Yeah..” you share a look, sighing sadly. “Try not to dream of me too much, lover boy.”
Stepping back into your underwear with a grimace, you throw your shorts into his hamper, winking at him and ordering that he wash them for you before you exit.
Heeseung can feel his cheeks itch with heat again, covering his eyes with a smile. How can he still feel shy after all of that..
“Goodnight.”
“Nighty.” You say, cheeks aching from smiling so much. 
“Well well well.” Sunghoon stands across the hallway as you do your best to quietly tiptoe your way out of Heeseung’s bedroom, jumping up and covering your mouth to not scream at his shadowy figure looming nearby. “What do we have here?”
“Hoon?” You say after a night of listening to Heeseung use the nickname over and over again. “What the hell are you doing out here? It’s like 3am.”
“I should ask you the same thing. What the hell are you doing sneaking out of my brother's bedroom in the middle of the night, huh?” Sunghoon steps into the small streak of light coming through the hallway window, jaw flexed tight. “I told you that I’d find out.”
“What? By standing out here with your ear pressed against the door like some creep? What the hell is wrong with you?!”
“Don’t change the subject.” Sunghoon corners you, pushing your shoulders against the wall. “And keep your voice down, you’re lucky our parents room is on the other side of the house with those dying animal squeals you were screaming out.”
“You’re such a dick.”
“Anyway,” he traces down the side of your face, flinching away from his touch only for his hand to cup around your jaw and keep your eyes on him. “No more of this, I’ll let it go just this one time because you’re pretty dumb.”
“I don’t need to listen to anything you say.”
“Oh, but you do, don’t you?” He speaks softly, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “And you will.”
“Why? Because you’ll run and tell my mommy that you made me suck your dick for some test answers?” You sneer, slapping your palm on his forearm. 
“I’m giving you a warning.” Sunghoon pecks your upper lip and Cupid’s bow, leaving out any mention of why. Not because he likes you or anything, not Park Sunghoon. “Take it seriously or don’t. Either way you’ll learn to listen to me.”
Pressing a firm kiss to your lips, he lingers, pecking the top and bottom over and over again. “Hate to think you let him defile that pretty mouth, almost repulses me to kiss you right now.”
Sunghoon backs up, raising an eyebrow and grabbing onto your elbows. “Let’s get you washed up before you go to sleep at least, you smell like cum.”
“Hoon, stop!” You whisper, panicked as he leads you to his bedroom. “Where are you taking me!”
Sunghoon kicks his bedroom door open, maneuvering you to his personal bathroom. “You can’t be this stupid.”
“Let me go!” 
“Shut up.” He snarls, pushing you toward the shower door. “Get in there, and make sure you clean yourself good.”
“What the fuck is your problem?!” You whine, forced inside as he barricades the open glass door and leers at you, nodding his chin at your shirt. 
“Tick tock, I’m waiting.” Sunghoon eyes the shirt hanging on your frame, reaching for the collar to pull on. “Is this Heeseung’s?! You’re wearing his clothes now???”
“Let go! You’re stretching it!”
Ignoring you, he pulls more, not even fazed by the slaps you deliver as he reaches for the hem and pulls the material up over your face leaving you no choice but to let him take it off. He lets out a sound of disapproval, reaching for the sides of your underwear. “You didn’t seriously let that asshole bust a nut inside of you.”
“Stop!” 
Sunghoon growls, pushing himself inside the shower until your back meets the chilled tile wall with a shiver. “You’re more disgusting than I thought, when did you start fucking him? Before or after our parents got married.”
He doesn’t give you time to answer, turning the shower on with the water beating down on your head. “Can’t believe he fucked you before me.” He mutters, shoving your now completely soaked underwear down. “You probably think he’s so fucking nice, don’t you?”
Tears well up in your eyes before you can blink them away fast enough, slapping the heel of your palms on his drenched shirt. “You are the only asshole here.”
“You fucking like it.” Sunghoon smirks, uncapping a bottle of body wash to squirt on your chest. “Clean it all out, it’s bad enough I have to fuck you after he did.”
“What?!” He throws a brand new washcloth at you, stepping back to the door dripping water all over the bathroom floor, head snapping with command. 
“Hurry up, my dicks getting hard watching you act so helpless.” He winks, reaching for the shower head to aim between your thighs, focused on the remnants of thick white cum seeping out from between your clenched thighs. “You let him fuck your ass too?”
Sunghoon asks as you turn away from him to reach between your legs and push out the last bits of Heeseung’s cum, nose scrunched in disgust from his comment. Pinching your buttcheek, he laughs, moving back to discard his wet clothing into a dirty hamper. “I guess you weren’t lying about not being a virgin after all, shame.” Licking the backs of his teeth, he scoffs. “My dicks bigger than his anway.”
“I’m going to my room.” You say, turning off the shower after rinsing the soap off of your skin. “And you are going to leave me alone.”
Sunghoon lets out a slow fake laugh, dropping his pajama bottoms when you turn to look at him. The white bathroom background illuminating his porcelain complexion, defined muscles flexing as he reaches for the top of the shower door, showing off his bare naked body. “Am I now?”
“Why do you even want me?”
He hums, making slow movements to bring down his arms and circle the ring on his finger, leisurely sliding it off and setting the silver band down on the bathroom counter. “Why do you think?
“You can have anyone you want.”
“Exactly.” Sunghoon tips his chin in, fitting his gaze down your wet chest and stomach. “And I want you.” Stepping back into the shower, he moves forward, a smile growing on one side of his face with each step back you take until you hit the wall again, chest rising and falling more rapidly as he looks over your figure. “Hard to believe, right?”
Tapping your nose, his index finger drags down from there, tracing the outline of your lips to your chin and the center of your neck. “Heeseung and I have always shared a similar type though.”
The mention of his brother makes you flinch, stomach churning with guilt as his finger lowers and flicks your nipples, breathily laughing the more you twitch under his taunting touch. “Or maybe he just always wants what I have.”
“You don’t have me.” You seeth under your breath, turning away from his steely gaze. 
“Don’t I?” Continuing to trace, he circles your navel, smoothing the pathway lower to the heat between your thighs. “You want me to stop?”
Lack of response and eye contact pulls another laugh out of him, crawling his digits down past your mound to your upper thighs. “I’ll take that as a no.”
Lack of air clears your lungs, finding it impossible to breathe, shutting your eyes to ignore the guilt clawing through your chest from inside out. Sunghoon hums, sliding a knee between your thighs for access to your center. “Look at me.”
With a gulp, you blink, slowly lifting your gaze to find his eyes. Black large pupils stare back at you, ridden with lust and desire, he leans closer, mouth hovering yours. “Good girl.”
The middle of your chest caves, shoulders slumping in as he cups around your core and groans, lips pulled over his teeth. “Can’t say no when you’re already this wet.”
Sighing, you accept your fate knowing in the back of your mind that you could have tried harder to stop him, you should have tried harder to stop him…
Sunghoon’s eyes stay locked on yours, tickling lower until the tips of his fingers find your entrance and scoop up the embarrassing amount of slick that’s already begun to pour out. It’s only because his brother just fucked you, that’s what you say to convince yourself. 
His hand raises between your faces, mouth dropped open letting out a dramatic gasp. “Look at that, so fucking wet it’s dripping down to my wrist, you dirty little..” he breaks off into a grin, shoving the coated fingers to your lips and pushing inside for you to gag around. “Taste it, that’s all for me. That’s your body begging for me.”
It’s not your fault he’s right.. even as you choke and spit around his digits finding the way to the back of your throat, you can’t deny the spike of heat building from your lower belly. 
Sunghoon swipes his fingers clean of your wet arousal and spit over your chin and cheeks, further adding to how degrading he treats you. The way your heart hammers through your chest makes it hard to convince yourself that you hate it..
He lets out a throaty chuckle, licking the mess off your chin and biting down on your bottom lip. “You really are something.” A smug smile pulls at his lips, reaching up to move your wet hair behind your ears. “You even look pretty out of the shower, you know that?”
“..really?”
Sunghoon’s tongue prods between his lips, licking at one side proudly, eyebrows furrowing as what he just said settles. “Yeah..” stifling his breath, he backs away with a fake cough, stepping out uncomfortably. “I’m not going to fuck you in the shower though.”
Silence hangs between the two of you for a minute, telling yourself you could still try to leave… you could..
He backs up to the door, grabbing onto the sides halfway out of the bathroom into his bedroom, full eyebrows raised at you before turning away.
He’s right, you are stupid.
Sunghoon’s standing with his back faced toward you, waiting for you to make the next move. Reaching for his shoulder, you gingerly lay your hand down, already short of breath. “Hoon..”
“You want it?” He asks, voice deep, carrying a hint of a smile in his tone. 
“Yes..”
Turning to you fast he pushes you to the wall, breath knocked out as his palms circle your waist. “What do I get out of it? Your used up pussy?”
“You get to fuck me.” Your mouth goes dry, lip shaking half from nerves, half out of anger. “Isn’t that what you want?”
“I can fuck you regardless.” Amusement carries in his voice, sliding one hand to your throat. “Better than he can too, wanna find out?”
With burning cheeks you duck your face in, tongue heavy in your mouth keeping your lips shut tight. “You really like him, huh?” He huffs, cursing under his breath. “That’s fine. I can change that.”
Sunghoon squats down, arms curling under your thighs to lift your feet off the floor, a cocky smile stretching across his face as he catches your shocked gasp. Propping your back against the wall, his teeth grit, hoisting your weight into his hold with added renewed strength, more determined to fuck your brain into nothing but a puddle of liquid. “Because believe me, he’ll never fuck you like this.”
His arms slide behind your knees getting a firm grip on your hips, cock dragging between your folds. “God, you’re so wet.” He sucks in a sharp breath, knees bending to get the head of his cock lined up with your hole. “Get this wet just from me being mean to you or what?” 
His teeth grind, still managing to breathe a chuckle through his exertion. “Just wanna get fucked? Doesn’t matter if I put it in your throat or pussy, probably even let me fuck your ass right now wouldn’t you?”
“N-no..”
The tip of his cock tugs at the muscle of your entrance, prodding no more than the slit in, arousal jolting through you with each teasing pass. It takes a second between your chest tightening and stomach flipping over to realize Sunghoon’s palms have lowered, landing a stinging slap to cup your ass; slowly dragging your back upwards on the wall to allow for his cock to fully enter inside in one fell swoop.
“What was that?!” He growls, cock throbbing.
“Yes!” You breathe in, eyes rolling back, chest heaving up and down. “Please—fuck me, a-ah, fuck me!”
and Sunghoon listens, thrusting forward with a firm grind, cock fully sheathed rearranging your insides. “That’s right. Want me to fuck your pussy real good? Want me to fuck that pussy the way it deserves to be fucked?” He spits, eyes ablaze with a crazed want, need to release. The stretch from his cock still manages to burn and sting, unable to lock your legs around him from the position he holds you in, full control over your body left to his arms flexed around you; pushing past the clenched up fight of muscle wrapped around him.
“God so fucking good.” His hips pull back, snapping forward at a maddening pace; rocking into your heat hard and rough, enough to make it hurt. “Such a good girl.”
Shivers rock up your spine, powerless to his strength over you as you weakly grip onto his shoulders for balance and security out of fear of falling. “Hoonie..”
He groans, head tipping back listening to your muffled broken moans, the call of his name shooting straight to his cock. “I’m gonna fucking ruin you.” He stammers, sweat collecting on his brow bone the more he exerts, hips unrelenting with each skin-slapping piston he delivers. “Don’t even know how fucking good you are.”
The veins lining Sunghoon’s neck pulsate violently, picking up his pace even more, balls slapping loudly throughout his bedroom with every thrust. The sound of wetness gushing between your bodies drills fear in your chest, loud enough that anyone passing by outside would be able to pick up easily on. “H-hoon… I’m—cum, I’ll c-cum..” you try to say clearly, on the verge of bursting around the unforgiving slam of his length.
“Fucking cum then! cum around my cock.” He doesn’t slow down, gaze focused carefully on watching the juncture where his dick disappears past your pulsating dripping wet cunt. Sucking in another sharp breath, he slaps your ass again. “Cum.”
That sends you flying over the edge, groaning out loud, arms gone limp over his shoulders; whole body jerking back against the wall from the overstimulation. Sunghoon fucks into you roughly as your release drenches past his cock, clapping the wet mess from his thighs to your ass, and it hurts, shocking your neck ramrod straight with wide eyes. “No—h-hurts!”
“Did I fucking cum yet?” He says between clenched teeth, dropping your jelly-like limp legs from his arms, punctuating the question with a particularly rough thrust. Breathing out harshly, he looks animalistic, wild eyes glaring at you before ripping your shoulder from the wall to slam you against it on your front; chest hitting hard stealing a gasp of breath from your lungs.
“I say when we are done.” He says, splitting your ass open to push his length back in. “You asked to get fucked, so you’re going to get fucked.”
Sunghoon groans, fingertips finding your hips to bury into, thrusting too hard and fast for you to fully enjoy. Round after round between the two brothers finally taking it out of you, whimpering in over sensitivity as he hits deep inside of you and rips another orgasm out of you, much weaker than the last. “Oh that’s so good,” he grunts, fucking into you harder. “The way your pussy sucks around me just like that.”
He keeps at it, muttering about how good your cunt feels the tighter you get. “I’d never fuck my girlfriend like this.” Sunghoon breathes into your ear, eyelashes fluttering wildly at the way you grip around him, and then he’s cumming. Cock buried deep inside, pumping out drop after drop of his release between breathless groans. “Fuck.”
Sighing, he drops flat against you kissing your sweaty nape.
“Now you’re going to listen to me once and for all.” He thrusts again, pushing out his cum with each backstroke. “And end this shit with my brother, or else I swear..” biting the shell of your ear he pants heavily, licking down to your earlobe. “I’ll make sure you both regret it. Don’t want that, do you?”
Layering kisses down your cheek, he bites your jaw down to your chin, burying inside to the hilt again. “Be a good girl.”
“Fuck off.” You mumble, more than past sensitivity between your thighs. Emptied and exhausted you fall back, slapping his forearm around your waist weakly. “No more.”
“Be quiet.” He grunts, turning you both around and throwing you down on his bed on your stomach, mounting your hips to line his cock back up to your hole. “And take it.” 
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Sunghoon’s an idiot.
At least that’s what you can’t help to think as he stomps into the kitchen and lets out an overdramatic wheeze at the sight of you squished against his brother’s side at the kitchen island.
“Well.” Popping his lips, he tucks them in, dimples pinching deep holes into his cheek. “Aren’t the two of you up early.” He says, eyes laser focused on you. “Did you even sleep?”
Heeseung stiffens up, swiping away from one of the videos he recorded during the concert; locking his phone and moving to stand.
“Hee, where are you going?”
Sunghoon scoffs, opening the fridge up aggressively in search of a protein shake, mouthing ‘HEE?!’ where he faces away from you.
“Uhm,” Heeseung scratches his neck, quickly glancing at his brother and then back at you. “Back to my room.”
“You have fun in there.” Sunghoon interrupts, mixing his pre-workout. “You.” Snapping his fingers in your face, he melts you in place with a sleek angry glare. “Tutoring in an hour, your professor emailed again and you have a test this week.”
“Yeah no.” Getting up to follow behind Heeseung, you flip Sunghoon off on your way out. “Can’t meet with you today, sorry! Don’t worry though, I’ll find a way to get some studying done.”
Sunghoon crushes the now emptied protein shake carton in his grip, stopping himself from running after you to drag you to his room by your hair. “What a little..”
Brushing off your attitude, he swipes open his phone to open up a chat with your mother to inform her of your negligence; emphasizing how worried he is over you passing this class, adding in that at this rate you will without a doubt fail.
He response comes in shortly, thanking him more than once for putting up with you. ‘She won’t be wasting any more of your time, I’ll be sure to cut off her subscriptions if she tries to pull this. Please give her one more chance Hoonie, you sweet darling boy❤️’
Smirking, he pockets his phone, counting down his fingers for the sound of your scream after the telltale ring of your cell phone carries from upstairs.
“What?! Mom! No!” 
Feisty. Sunghoon laughs to himself, pleased on his way back to his bedroom only to be stopped by your figure running toward him.
“What is your problem!” You hiss, lightly shoving his shoulder. “You seriously fucking called my mom to snitch on me?”
“No,” Sunghoon pouts innocently, breaking into a smile. “I texted.”
Practically foaming at the mouth, you grab him by the shirt, pulling him toward your bedroom. “Listen to me asshole!” You shriek, using all of your strength to push him inside of your room, kicking the door shut behind you. “How many times do I need to tell you to leave me alone?!”
Sunghoon smiles, shrugging as he begins to look around your room. “You’re kind of turning me on, try saying it again.”
“Sunghoon!” Charging at him, you throw your body forward at his chest, knocking him back enough for his ass to plant on your bed, surprise drawing his eyebrows up his forehead.
“What happened to.. what was it again?” Snapping his fingers, he taps his chin, eyes widening. “Oh right! Hoon! Hoonie!!!” He drags out, moaning in a high pitched tone.
“Last night was a one time thing.”
“Sure,” Sunghoon leans back on his palms, biting a smile away as he eyes you. “Sucks that you left me to wake up alone though..”
Coiled heat spirals through your gut, forcing yourself to look away. “I don’t need to get in trouble because of your ass on top of everything, luckily for me I managed to wake up after you fucked me until I passed out. Asshole.”
“You liked it,” he smirks, sitting up to rub up and down the sides of your thighs. “Just like you like this…this rough-housing between us, the hot banter and childish little arguments.”
“You’re delusional, I don’t like any of this.”
Sunghoon pouts, pulling you to stand between his parted thighs and hug around your hips with his chin perched on your stomach. “You don’t like me?”
Heeseung clears his throat from your bedroom door, too caught up with his younger brother to even think that he’d come looking for you after bursting out of his room to ‘kill Sunghoon’.
“Sorry,” he says, beginning to back up. “Didn’t know you were busy.”
“Hee! No!”
Sunghoon stands up fast, pulling you into a full body hug so that you can’t turn around and chase after his brother. “Yeah Hee, we’re busy, scram.”
The older nods, slowly pulling the door shut with a broken expression. “Heeseung please!” You scream as a last stitch of effort. “Please! Don’t leave!!”
Sunghoon sighs, rolling his eyes and shoving you away. “Fine, let’s settle this shit right now.”
Heeseung pauses, eyes wide and alert bouncing back and forth between the two of you, the panic in your gaze pulling him inside like an invisible string to come in. “Settle what?”
“This.” Sunghoon repeats brazenly, motioning between the three of you. “You’re fucking her, I’m fucking her, better too.”
Heeseung scoffs, shaking his head.
“And I don’t like that.” Sunghoon continues. “So, what are we going to do about this? Big brother.” He carps, managing to make the title come across as an insult. 
“Sunghoon, stop this!” You intervene, getting between them. “What about your girlfriend?!”
“Yeah Hoonie.” Heeseung says from behind you, moving closer until his chest meets your back. “You think Miyeon would love to know about how you cheat on her every other weekend with random sluts you meet at parties?”
Sunghoon shakes his head with a smug sneer, eyes rolling between an anxious blink. “And you Heeseung? Should I tell dad about your weekend adventures? The real reason you’re flunking out of uni? The truth behind why you’re such a fucking failure?”
Heeseung stiffens behind you, clutching at your shirt by your lower back. “Hee?”
“It’s not what you think Hoon..”
“What? So I just made up all those times I’ve had to watch you embarrass yourself, stumbling out of parties high and drunk off your ass?” Sunghoon huffs a cruel laugh. “Real nice, how you’d clearly rather fuck up your head than evolve, better yourself and try to not be such a low life prick.”
“Enough!” You interrupt, sensing the tension radiating off Heeseung’s body. “God.”
Taking a deep breath, you have to pause, remembering that you have only heard one side of this story…
“I’m doing better..” Heeseung whispers behind you, the bottom half of his face buried in his chest to hide. “Haven’t been going out the way I used to, I know I need to stop Hoon. I’m trying..”
“Oh Hee..” you turn, slinking your arms around his waist. 
“Ugh.” Sunghoon pretends to gag. “Bullshit! Trying my ass! You’ve never tried to fix anything!”
Heeseung frowns, slumping in your hold, eyes falling shut. “I don’t know what else you want from me, Hoonie.”
“I want you to get the fuck up off my gi—“ Sunghoon catches his breath, pausing and stepping back, lips twitching furiously. “Fuck.” He turns, hands set on hips visibly shaking from the rage coursing through his body.
“You can’t just..” you start, chewing on your bottom lip, weighing if you’re overstepping boundaries too much. “Talk?”
Heeseung trembles, clearly living in some fear of his brother. A similar cycle to the one you’ve found yourself racing through..
“No!” Sunghoon snaps, twisting back around to face the two of you, features tight and full of anger. “I have nothing to say to him.”
Heeseung nods, rubbing down your back reassuringly. “It’s okay, I have a lot to explain to make this fair.”
“It’s okay Hee, really..”
Sunghoon sneers, muttering under his breath about how repulsive this is, regretting his need for confrontation. 
“No no,” Heeseung continues. “Hoonie’s right, I’m a fuck up.. fucked up our relationship, fucked up my education. I fucked up my life, I know.” He reiterates, nodding and agreeing with Sunghoon. “I should have been there for you back then Hoon..”
The younger flinches, tearing his gaze away, jaw twitching. “Don’t bother, you’re too late.”
“Come on Sunghoon..” you say shakily, reaching for his hand, only for him to snatch it away. Taking a few steps back to create distance between you.
“Yeah..” Heeseung swallows, throat dry as tears gather at his waterline. “I know, but you’ll always be my little brother, and if you ever need me.. I’m here for you.”
“No you’re not.” Sunghoon sucks between his teeth, licking his lips and rubbing his eyes frustrated, using the fast action to clear away moisture. “If you’re serious then leave her alone, let me have this for once.”
“Hee, no, do not listen to him!” You speak up, glaring at the younger. “I’m not some fucking conquest Sunghoon, I’m a person, not a trophy to hold over your brothers head just because you have bad blood.”
“I didn’t say that.” Sunghoon snaps at you, baring his teeth. “Why are you even getting involved?! You’re just making this worse!” 
“Hoon, come on dude.” Heeseung moves in front of you, shielding you as if his brother would do something that would require that.
Sunghoon’s eyes bulge, bloodshot with his temper skyrocketing, pushing up to his brother nose to nose, a spark of pride roaring through his chest at the lack of difference in their height. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”
Heeseung’s gaze lowers, running his tongue along the backs of his teeth nervously. “Nothing man, nothing.” Holding his hands up defenseless, he turns toward you, face drained of energy. “Sorry about all of this.”
“It’s okay baby,“ you console, burying your face in his chest, arms seeking his waist to squeeze around tightly until he gasps for a breath and breaks into a smile. “You don’t have to apologize to me.”
“I can’t believe this.” Sunghoon barks, gaining your attention again.
“Hoon, listen..” without releasing Heeseung, you turn to face him, lip tweaking down slightly. “It’s not personal, but I like your bro—“
“Enough!” He shouts, stomping toward the door. Refusing to hear that for the second time in his life, one unforgettable heartbreak was enough already.
Sighing, you return to rubbing your face in Heeseung’s warm embrace, releasing the built up stress and negative energy circulating around you. Big hands soothe down your spine, setting soft barely there kisses on your forehead, mumbling under his breath. “Thank you.“
Sunghoon backs out quietly, blinking away the itch behind his eyes. Typical of his brother to never let him have anything, even the last days with their mother when he selfishly pushed his younger brother away and told him to stay in his room. Fucking asshole could never be there for him the way a normal sibling should be. Heeseung never once chose him over a woman, not their mom, not you, and not her.
He nods to himself, clicking the door shut behind him with his jaw set tight. It’d be too easy to walk away now, accept defeat, allow for Heeseung to kick dirt in his face once again… 
But Sunghoon has never liked taking the easy route.
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“Did you honestly think that was it?” Sunghoon leans against your bedroom door, stepping in and kicking it shut behind him, startling you as he makes his way in with a venomous glare laser focused on you. “Think I give up that easily?”
“Get out of my room!” You hurriedly whisper, getting up to push him back to the door. “What the hell is your problem!? Why do you keep showing up?!”
“You. Him. You’re both my problem.” Sunghoon sneers, taking a hold of your wrists to pin them down by your sides and press your back flush against the door. 
“There’s nothing to give up!” Continuing to hiss, you thrust your weight forward, barely shifting his figure back enough to take a deep breath and lighten him off your torso. “You. Have. A. Girlfriend.”
“Semantics.” Rolling his eyes, Sunghoon waves off your annoyance. “A girlfriend, what’s a girlfriend to you anyway? The girl you met, shook hands with, and then proceeded to fuck her boyfriend anyway?”
“You!” Huffing, you beat his chest, using your strength to shove. “You know why!”
“Oh, because we made a fair trade? Your grades improve and I get in a nut once in a while.” He shrugs nonchalantly. “Big fucking deal.”
“It is a big fucking deal you prick.”
“It wasn’t, until you did exactly what I told you not to do and fucked my brother.” He glares at you, forehead wrinkling at the mention of Heeseung. “The one thing I fucking asked of you, and now here you are, in love or some shit.” He says, hands raised to make quotations with a disgusted leer tugging his face down.
“You never told me to not..” sighing, you slump against the door, head aching as you wonder how this could possibly be your life. “Why do you even care?! I don’t get it.”
“You wouldn’t.” Stepping back, he saunters to your pinboard of clippings from magazines, quotes and poems about different parts of Europe you’ve dreamed of every summer. “But maybe you will, eventually.”
Sunghoon traces one of the phones of a couple skiing through the Swiss Alps, scoffing under his breath at the idea of you and his brother venturing off together on some romantic getaway. Chuckling under his breath he rips off the photo of the Venice Canals, turning back to face you.
“I’ll be sure to have my father’s assistant only book the best accommodations for us.” Sunghoon grins cockily, placing his hand along the side of your neck. “Five stars only, my princess deserves the best.”
“What?” You sneer, slapping his arm away. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Our dream summer vacation.” He says dumbfounded, mouth hung open offended that you dare to forget. “The one you’ve been working your ass off to better your grades for.”
“Hoon, what—“
“Because you don’t really believe you can just run off to Europe easypeasy after fucking not only one, but both of your step-brothers?!” Sunghoon gasps, grabbing at his chest dramatically. “What would your mother say?! Man, with how strict she is, she’d probably ship your ass off to live on your grandmother's farm in the middle of nowhere. At least that’s what she said over dinner that one time with Miyeon..”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I wouldn’t?” He smiles, batting his eyelashes innocently. “Can you be so sure?”
“But why?” You ask desperately, head beginning to throb from this back and forth.
Sunghoon shrugs sarcastically, eyes bulging out to mock you with an expression that flat out says ‘are you stupid?’. 
“Summer in Europe.” He opens up your door, peering over his shoulder with a dazzling sharp grin. “Can’t wait.
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Next- Heaven & Back: part 1
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zorobff · 6 months
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how to disappear. (opla!zoro x fem!reader)
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synopsis: joining luffy’s crew made you believe that you’d finally escaped your former pirate crew and nightmare of a captain for good. that is, until a certain butler starts looking a little too familiar. good thing zoro’s keeping a close eye on you.
warnings: opla spoilers (ep 3), some direct dialogue from opla, mentions of verbal/physical abuse, kuro is just a weirdo tbh, reader is called a bitch, protective zoro, for the sake of the story sham and buchie joined the black cat pirates after reader left
word count: 4.7k
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“this guy is full of shit.”
you knock your shoulder into zoro’s wider one. “be nice. and so what if he is?” 
zoro gives you a pointed glare. “then we should turn around and look for someone who can actually help us find a ship.” 
“all business, as per usual,” you reply, with a purposefully dramatic sigh. “why can’t you have a little fun?” 
“what about this is supposed to be fun?” zoro spits out the word like it’s poisonous. “this is the blandest village i’ve ever seen.”
you scoff. “now you’re the one that’s full of shit. nothing’s ever bland with us and you know it.” 
the us in question was your newly formed pirate crew… if you and luffy could even be considered that. having left the ship you’d been on a few years ago, you were in search of a new crew. luffy was persistent and charming — when you’d crossed paths in shells town, it took little to no time for him to convince you to join his hunt for the one piece. zoro and nami, on the other hand, had yet to follow in your footsteps. 
“well, considering that we’ve only been traveling together for a day and a half and i’ve already escaped a marine base, defeated a marine captain, and fought a clown with devil fruit powers… i’d actually have to agree.” 
you can’t help but giggle at his sarcastic delivery. “be grateful, zoro. not many pirate crews are this fun to be on, trust me. oh wait, that’s right, you still haven’t officially joined—”
“tell me about your old pirate crew,” interjects zoro, your comment having piqued his interest. 
you notice that the playful atmosphere dissipates. “god, where do i even start?” 
zoro answers that for you. “why did you leave?”
“starting with the hard hitting questions, huh?” you joke, mostly to stall. you clear your throat before you answer. “well, it was different. nothing like what luffy has going on. he actually cares about his crew… and even those who aren’t technically on it.” 
at that, a smile tugs at the corner of zoro’s lips. even you crack a small grin. although as you continue speaking, it fades. 
“on my old crew, we were dispensable. anytime something went wrong, our own captain would threaten to kill us. it was… scary, to be completely honest. there were so many times when i thought i’d die with that filthy crew. and i never wanted that. so as soon as we docked at shells town, i left.”  
zoro’s jaw clenches as imagines the things you’d seen and been subjected to. “this old captain of yours sounds like a real—”
“he was a nightmare,” you tell him. “he didn’t care that i was the only woman on board, he treated me just as horribly, if not worse.” 
zoro stops so suddenly that it takes you a second to realize he’s not walking alongside you.
“what do you mean by that.” the way zoro phrases the inquiry doesn’t even make it sound like a question. more like a demand. his narrowed eyes are fixed solely on you. holding his gaze feels… intense. 
you can’t help but glance away as you answer him. “he was just a bit of a creep.”
before zoro has the chance to try and extract more information out of you, a familiar voice calls both your names. you’re not really sure when you and zoro had fallen behind but from where you currently stand, the rest of your group looks miniature. or perhaps it’s just the massive size of the mansion behind them that makes luffy, nami, and usopp look pocket-sized in comparison. 
“why’d you stop walking?!” your captain shouts, hands pressed on each side of his mouth to amplify his voice. “get over here, we’re about to go in through the top secret entrance!” 
you vaguely make out usopp gesturing for luffy to keep his voice down. you’re sure that would warrant another comment from zoro about his reliability but he’s too busy staring at you with that expectant look in his eyes. 
“we better catch up,” you tell him, heading in the direction of the deluxe home. 
he allows you to dodge the subject and sighs, walking in long strides to catch up to you.  
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“i’ve never seen a house this big before,” luffy admits, admiring the mansion along with the wellkept greenery surrounding it. 
“awesome, right?” usopp gloats, walking around like he owned the place. “kaya’s given me an open invitation to drop by anytime i want.” 
“wow.” you’re not sure if luffy was just going along with usopp’s act or if he really believed him. knowing the devil fruit user, it was more than likely the latter. “all this for just one person?”
“well, she lives here with her butler and a few other staff,” usopp replies, leaning against the stone well that sat in the middle of the lawn.
“money really shows you who people truly are,” nami mutters, eyes scanning the property. “most people only care about themselves and what’s theirs.”
zoro is quick to throw the insult back at her. “sounds like someone i know.”
you roll your eyes at his comment, though you make no effort to disagree with him. nami was a little on the materialistic side. 
“and a small staff makes for easy pickings,” she continues, proving your point.
“we just got here and you’re already planning on robbing the place blind?” you ask though you already know the answer.
“at least a little blurry,” she smirks, following behind luffy and usopp who walk toward the entrance. 
you and zoro share a look. one that says disappointed but not surprised. 
going under a shrub shaped as an arch, you’re met with a beautiful pond. you admire the pink lilies that float at the top and the bushes that were intricately trimmed into the shape of various animals. even if the people that lived here were filthy rich, at least they had good decorative taste. 
“so if you have an invitation, why are we going around the back way?” luffy ponders.
usopp’s answer is nonchalant. “oh, i never use the front entrance. like i said, this is the vip entrance reserved for special guests.”
zoro scoffs. “this guy’s definitely–”
“don’t start,” you groan, cutting him off. 
abruptly, usopp freezes and spins around, attempting to usher your crew back. “you know what, there’s actually a more exclusive entrance this way–”
the sharp swoosh of a knife cutting through the air and burying itself in the ground between usopp’s feet cuts him off. from the direction the kitchen utensil was thrown stands a heavyset gentleman with his face wrinkled in anger. his demanding voice booms through the garden, “the hell are you doing here, usopp?” 
the dark-skinned boy fumbles over his word. “buchi, buddy, uh, kaya’s expecting me.”
“another one of your lies,” the man – seemingly named buchi – seethes, grabbing him by the collar. “you ain’t welcome here and you know it.”
“i know nothing of the sort,” usopp retorts, keeping his cool even when he was practically being lifted off the ground by his shirt. “i’m here to give kaya an extra special gift.”
before buchi can get another word out, a feminine voice calls out for your companion. coming down the steps is a frail looking girl in a pink dress. on her arm is a man dressed in a crisp suit, presumably the butler usopp had mentioned earlier. though, from where you stand you can’t see either of their faces too clearly. 
“what a wonderful surprise,” she exclaims, breathlessly. 
“kaya!” usopp exclaims, returning her enthusiasm. buchi has no choice but to let him go, begrudgingly. usopp makes sure to shoot him a smug look before walking towards the young girl. “happy birthday.” 
the butler clears his throat, not afraid to intrude on their special moment. “usopp, we’ve discussed this before. you mustn’t show up unannounced.” 
“nonsense, klahadore.” kaya smiles warmly. “have you come to tell me another story? i do love hearing about your adventures.” 
“i’ll do you one better,” usopp smirks with such confidence that even you’re left wondering what kind of surprise he has up his sleeve. “i brought some of my crew!” he gestures back towards the four of you, proudly. 
your excitement vanishes. “oh. the surprise is… us.”
“well, that’s boring,” luffy agrees, just as disappointed as you are. 
kaya, on the other hand, is none the wiser. “it’s so nice to meet you. you must all stay for dinner.” 
klahadore lowers his voice. “miss kaya, it is a bit last minute. i’m afraid the kitchen hasn’t prepared for any extra guests.”
“please,” begs kaya, softly. “it’s my birthday. can’t be too much trouble can it?” 
giving in, klahadore purses his lips. “anything for you, miss kaya.” 
luffy claps his hands together. “alright! when do we eat?” 
“you don’t. not dressed like that, at least.” the butler directs himself to a staff member with teal colored hair. “sham, kindly show usopp and his friends to the guest suites. you will bathe and change before dinner.”
she follows his orders and leads the way. luffy, usopp, nami, and zoro trail behind her and you go to do the same. however, all it takes is a quick glance to stop you dead in your tracks. usually, you weren’t one to stare but klahadore’s face. that stare. so dark and depraved. 
“yes, miss?” he asks, holding your gaze. “can i help you?” 
“n-no, i…” your throat goes dry as you attempt to recover smoothly. “i just wanted to, um, thank you for being so hospitable.” 
his lips curve upwards into a sinister grin. “the pleasure’s all mine.” as if to confirm your worst fear, klahadore uses his palm to readjust his glasses. his beady eyes gauge your reaction closely.
the familiar gesture sends chills down your spine. appearance-wise, he had changed drastically but his aura was still just as menacing as you remember it. he was still the corrupt pirate captain you used to serve under. you feel like a weak and helpless subordinate all over again.
“klahadore!” giggles kaya. “you’re smiling! that’s certainly a rarity.”
he hums. “i’ve simply come to the realization that having guests once in a while can truly be a delight.”
his sickeningly sweet tone makes your stomach turn. just the fact that you were standing in front of him – captain kuro – again after all these years was nauseating in itself. last you’d heard he had died at the hands of captain morgan. how was this even possible? then again, he wasn’t dubbed kuro of a hundred plans for no reason. he always had a trick or two up his sleeve. you assumed this was no different. 
“hey, you comin’?”
you turn around to see zoro waiting for you. he meets your gaze for a moment. the softness of his eyes is a stark contrast to kuro’s. it’s a breath of fresh air. he then shifts his attention to your former captain and you swear his eyes darken. 
“yeah, sorry,” you mumble, trying not to look shaken as you walk up the steps. 
zoro follows behind you, this time closer than before.
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“why would anybody even need this many clothes?”
“it’s not about need with these people, luffy. it’s about want,” nami spits, thumbing through the various fabrics on the wall. 
“at least she’s rich and nice,” luffy replies, innocently.
nami rolls her eyes. “yeah, letting us stay for dinner must be her idea of charity work.” 
“what are we even supposed to wear?” luffy continues, uninterested in nami’s criticism of the rich. 
“anything you want. when are you ever going to get the opportunity to wear things this nice?” 
you step out from behind the changing board where you’d swapped out your old tee and cargo skirt for an elegant satin dress. it was a stunning shade of olive green and frilly lace decorated the edges. not to mention, it hugged your curves in all the right ways.
nami’s eyes widen. “see, she’s got the right idea. you look amazing.” 
you smile, bashfully. “honestly, i feel amazing.”
“you look the same to me,” your captain shrugs.
nami shoots him a death glare but you intervene before she can scold him.
“way to keep me humble, luffy.”
“no problem!” 
at that exact moment, a freshly showered zoro arrives donning a silk robe. he eyes the multitude of garments that cover every inch of the room, not particularly impressed. 
“there you are. don’t you think she looks nice?” nami asks him, gesturing towards you. she doesn’t notice how you shrink under zoro’s gaze. neither does he, as his eyes take their time raking over you, from top to bottom.
he hums. “suits you.” with that, he sets off towards a chair in the corner of the room.  
“seriously?” sighs nami, exasperated. “are you two physically unable to give compliments or something?” 
“hey, doesn’t that butler seem familiar to you guys?” zoro asks, promptly ignoring nami’s complaint. 
his question causes your breath to hitch. you’d pushed the kuro problem to the back of your mind while you were in search of a suitable dinner outfit. you figured that as long as your crew was by your side, he wouldn’t dare try anything. and even if he did… well, you’d seen what had happened to axe-hand morgan and buggy. 
“yeah, i think he was at the last dinner party i attended,” nami replies sarcastically, taking a handful of dresses behind the changing board. 
as he takes a seat, zoro grumbles, “i swear i’ve seen him before.” 
“where?” you can’t help but ask, fiddling with the lace on the neckline of your dress. 
“so far, i’ve got two suspicions. a wanted poster or funky bar on mirrorball island. you ever been?”
you know zoro’s teasing you, judging by the grin on his face. after all, funky bar was known to get insanely rowdy; never would he imagine finding someone as gentle as you there. but what he didn’t know is that it happened to be one of kuro’s favorite bars. per his request, you and the rest of the black cat pirates frequented it often, so he was more than likely right about having seen kuro there. he’d probably even seen you in passing, once or twice. thankfully, he doesn’t seem to have any recollection of that.
the thought of zoro knowing about your past forms a knot in the pit of your stomach. would he think less of you for having joined such a ruthless crew at one point in your life? what if it put a strain on the friendship you’d worked so hard to form? 
“i’ve, uh, heard of it,” you decide to reply, pushing down your worries for the time being. 
he tilts his head slightly, thinking out loud. “then again, i have seen a lot of wanted posters and bars in my time as a pirate hunter.”
you feel a grin creep onto your face. “probably more bars than posters, huh?”
zoro mirrors your smile. “shut up.”
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by the time dinner rolls around, the entire crew is doing what they do best. 
luffy is stuffing his face, nami is attempting to swindle one of the staff, zoro is hanging by the drinks, and you’re hanging by zoro. 
“hey zoro, you gotta try this!” luffy calls through a mouthful of food.
“i’ve got all i need right here,” he mutters, taking a swig out of his champagne flute. 
“you know, i don’t think i’ve ever seen you choke down something that isn’t alcohol,” you comment, watching the way he downs the glass in one go. 
dryly, he replies, “that’s because i haven’t.”
“very on brand.”
“ladies and gentlemen,” calls out that voice from the top of the stairs. “may i present… miss kaya.”
arm in arm, kuro and kaya walk down the steps, all eyes on the birthday girl and her stunning gown. well, except you. your eyes never leave the so-called butler by her side. your jaw clenches when he has the audacity to meet your gaze and hold it. shameless bastard. 
once they reach the bottom, merry leads kaya to the guests while kuro takes his post at the bottom of the stairs… right next to the drink table. before you can think about steering yourself and zoro away, kuro speaks.
“forgive me if i am speaking out of line, madam, but i must inform you. you look positively radiant,” he purrs, soaking in your appearance. he looks ready to pounce.
you can’t stop your eyes from rolling. good to know he’s the same pervert he used to be.
looking between you both and sensing your discomfort, zoro steps in. “and you look familiar.” 
kuro’s head stiffly turns to face him, eyes peeling away from you. “highly doubtful, sir.” 
“funky bar? mirror ball island?” 
“funky bar?” kuro repeats, disgusted. “well, i can assure you i’ve never patronized that type of establishment.” 
while it was amusing to see your highly esteemed former captain lie through his teeth, the tension between him and zoro was unbearable. 
“well then.” zoro continues with his little interrogation. “ever been on a wanted poster?”
you cringe at his bluntness. sometimes it seemed like he had less of a filter than luffy.
kuro puts on a scandalized face at the question. “sir! such an accusation is highly offensive.” tugging on his collar, he goes to remove himself from zoro’s probing. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i’m going to help prepare the dinner table.” 
he leaves, en route to the dining room. zoro’s eyes follow his figure until he disappears, squinting as he racks his brain for any further recollection of this suspicious butler. 
you sigh. if zoro was going to continue being so relentless, you were sure the night would end in bloodshed and uncovered secrets. 
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“keep this coming,” zoro demands, handing the empty wine bottle to sham. she takes it with a glare. 
“would it kill you to say please?” you ask, slicing the slab of fish on your plate into smaller pieces.
“the service here is shitty. why should i have to be polite?” 
you scowl. “remind me to never have dinner with you again.”
zoro turns to you with that cocky grin of his. “what if i asked nicely?” 
his quip makes your heart flutter but you manage to keep your composure. “you can try your luck.” 
before he can respond, usopp speaks up. “luffy, isn’t there something that you wanted to talk to kaya about?” 
luffy gesticulates enthusiastically with his fork. “oh, yes! usopp told me that you own the whole shipyard.” 
“well, actually, my parents founded the shipyard and merry’s been running the business since they… passed. but all that’s about to change. tonight, at midnight, i will become the sole owner.” she smiles somberly. 
“well, that’s great,” luffy says, raising his drink at her. “because we want to buy a ship from you.” 
“ah, i see. usopp mentioned that you’re sailors.” 
“nope, not sailors. we’re pirates!”
you’re certain at least three people at the table choke on their food, yourself included. 
“this ought to be good,” zoro mumbles behind his glass.
you’re too busy coughing into your napkin to chastise him for finding this entertaining.
“pirates?” kaya repeats, unsure of how to react. 
“yup! we haven’t sailed together for very long but we’ve already defeated an evil clown, raided a marine base, and taken down a captain with an axe! for a hand!” luffy holds up a fist, presumably to impersonate axe-hand morgan.
“sounds a lot like your adventures, usopp,” kaya says, turning to the brunette.
all he can do is laugh dryly. “yeah, that’s… that’s crazy.” 
“and we’re just getting started!” luffy continues, climbing up onto the table.
“someone put me out of my misery,” you mumble, looking down at your plate to ignore the secondhand embarrassment.
a tap on your shoulder answers your plea.
turning around, you find yourself face to face with kuro once again. “madam, a word please?”
“might i ask what for?” zoro cuts in before you can so much as think of a response.
kuro offers him the most forced grin you’ve ever had the displeasure of seeing. “i’m afraid that is between the lady and i.”
the swordsman turns to you, scanning your face for any ounce of discomfort. “you okay with that?”
you inhale, figuring it was finally time for you to confront the darkest part of your past. it was silly to assume you would be able to ignore him throughout your entire stay here. besides, you were sure zoro, just like the rest of your crew, would be on standby if kuro got brave enough to try anything. “sure. just… keep an eye out.”
zoro understands completely. truthfully, you didn’t even need to ask – he always looked after you. “got it.”
you push yourself out of your seat and smooth out your dress. you allow kuro to lead you to the doorway – he was smart enough to know that was the farthest you’d let him take you. 
“what do you want, klahadore?” you seethe, folding your arms.
he arches a brow. “why must you call me that? it’s ridiculous.” 
you tilt your head with faux innocence. “oh? is that not your name? must have misheard.”
he gives you an irritated look, dark eyes drilling into you.
“i remember that look,” you mutter, your memory serving you well. “it’s the same one you’d give me before you’d threaten to slice me to bits with your claws.”
kuro has the audacity to chuckle dryly. “but i never did, did i? although there were certainly times times where i should’ve.”
“what you should be is dead,” you hiss bitterly. “when i heard the news, i knew it was too good to be true.”
“you wound me, kitten,” he drawls, reaching up to fix his glasses. 
the condescending nickname makes your skin crawl. it carried so many awful memories of your time spent with the black cat pirates. it reminded you of just how weak kuro viewed you — nothing but a helpless, pitiful kitten in his eyes. typical of the man that abused his authority and treated you with not a single ounce of respect. 
he continues, putting on a sweet tone. “after all these years, stuck waiting hand and foot on that spoiled brat, there’s nothing i’d love more than to hear my favorite crew mate say my real name.”
you snap at him. “i’m no crew mate of yours.”
he sighs, dramatically. “sadly, you’re correct. after all, you did slip off the ship the moment we docked in shells town. locating you on an island crawling with marines proved to be nearly impossible. we had no choice but to leave without you.”
“that’s exactly why i chose to escape there.” 
“and to this day i can’t for the life of me figure out why you would ever do that. why would you want to leave us? leave me?”
you actually laugh right in his face. “is it really that hard to figure out? you were evil. you threatened and harassed me on a daily basis.”
“so your solution was to join that ragtag crew?” he glances at the table. “it’s pathetic, even for you.”
you lean into his face, lowering your voice down. “i’m happier than i ever was on your shitty crew. every day i wake up grateful that i managed to escape you.”
you see that vein on his forehead bulge before he’s gripping you by the chin. “listen here, you little bitch–”
the shiny silver of a sword slides between you and kuro, coming to rest against his neck. his adam’s apple bobs as he gulps anxiously, releasing you. thanks to zoro’s sword, it seemed as if he finally remembered where he was. you were no longer on his ship, he was no longer allowed to treat you like the dirt he walked on. not without someone noticing, that is. 
“why don’t you step away?” zoro offers simply.
that much was a kindness. usually those who found themselves on the end of zoro’s blade(s) weren’t lucky enough to receive a warning. however, the swordsman didn’t wish to cause a scene. at least not when you were right there and everyone was watching with shock from the dinner table.
kuro obliges, stumbling back. he meets kaya’s horrified eyes, feeling ashamed that he allowed his act to slip. surely this would cause some setbacks in his plan. with no excuse for his uncharacteristic behavior, the raven haired man scurries away and up the stairs.
zoro turns and locks eyes with luffy, giving him one singular nod. luffy returns it, jumping out of his seat and going after the butler. quiet murmuring breaks out at the dinner table, everyone surely confused. 
sheathing his sword, zoro directs his attention to you once more. “are you alright?” a calloused hand comes up to grip your chin, much like kuro had. however, this time, the touch is gentle. loving, almost. you welcome it.
“yeah, i’m… fine.” your heart is beating out of your chest and it has everything to do with your close proximity to zoro.
he tilts your face around, inspecting every inch of it. once he finishes, he pulls back. his demeanor goes serious once more. “we need to have a talk.”
you nod. “i know. i’ve been keeping some things from you guys and–”
“just tell me what’s been going on,” he demands. “and don’t overcomplicate it. you can be straightforward with me.”
his sincerity makes you start over, this time far more candidly. “klahadore used to be a pirate. i was part of his crew. he was my… captain.”
the shame in your voice pulls at zoro’s heartstrings. didn’t you know there was no reason to feel guilty with him? “is that it?” 
you open your mouth to speak but come up empty. all you can do is furrow your eyebrows at his unexpectedly dismissive reaction.
“i knew it,” zoro continues, annoyed. “i knew i’d seen him on a wanted poster before. just didn’t have any proof.”
“wait, so you don’t– you really don’t care?” you ask, still avoiding eye contact. “me being a former black cat pirate doesn’t bother you?”
he shrugs. “you said it yourself. ‘former.’ all that matters is that you got the hell out of there. and away from that creep. would he always put his hands on you like that?”
you blink a couple times, sighing. “his temper was really bad so–”
that seemed to be enough for zoro. “i’ll kill the bastard,” he hisses. “wanted to slice him to bits the moment i saw him grab you.” 
though it’s a violent threat, you can’t help but smile. the idea of zoro being so protective that he’d kill a man just for touching you made you blush. pirate love language, you suppose.
“well, i wouldn’t have stopped you,” you tell him, more than ready to see your former captain go.
zoro clicks his tongue. “nah. could’ve stained your new dress with his blood. i never would have been able to forgive myself.”
“so you do have a soft spot,” you tease.
“only for pretty things.”
“do you mean me or the dress?” 
now it’s zoro’s turn to become bashful. though, his lack of response is an answer in itself. you can’t help but giggle. 
a loud bang from upstairs interrupts your moment with the green-haired man. you assume luffy had gotten his hands on kuro… or vice versa. zoro must be thinking the same thing judging by the way he instinctively rests a hand on the handle of his blade.
“you should go up there,” you tell him. “i’ll stay with kaya.”  
he gives you a nod, though he doesn’t make any effort to leave. he stands there like he wants to say something… or do something. before you can think about it too much, you pull him in by the collar and crash your lips onto his. they’re slightly chapped and taste like the wine that’d come from the cellar – it’s pleasant. his large palms come to rest on your lower back; his hold feels tight and secure. 
when you finally allow yourself to pull away, you’re biting back a smile. “kick his ass for me.” 
“will i get more of that if i do?” asks zoro, wetting his lips. they now taste like the cherry lip gloss you’d borrowed from kaya. he takes a step forward, attempting to close the gap between you two once more.
you shrug, pushing him away by the chest. “go help luffy and we’ll see.”
you both know that means yes.
6K notes · View notes
lex-the-flex · 4 months
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coriolanus snow being jelly/ needy and demanding attention,,
been obsessed with him lately tehe <3
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“You’re staring again, Coryo.” You announce through your focused state.
"Sorry, Y/N. Can't help it." He says, tossing his pen on the table.
Closing your notebook, you let out a sigh, rubbing your face in mere frustration. Leaning back in your chair, the study room’s ticking clock provides a low level profile for getting work done. But in this case, you were far more than ready to give up.
“It’s not fair! Why must our professors give us an essay and two projects to work on? Do they think we’re robots?!” Arachne questions, throwing her history book on the table.
Turning to face Coriolanus, you widely opened your eyes, hoping he shared the same annoyance at Arachne’s endless complaining. Thankfully he did. Offering you a small smile, you turned back to the study group.
“Because we’re preparing for the 10th Hunger Games. We need to know the importance of the games.” Clemensia replies.
“Besides, we’re all going to be mentors next year. So this is vital for the University. They accept any students who wish to be mentors.” Sejanus adds, leaning onto the table.
“Okay, Mr. Plinth Prize. Please spare us of your wisdom and can we please go get dinner before the mess hall closes?” Arachne asks, standing from her chair.
“Yes please! I’m starving.” Clemensia responds, grabbing her bag.
Standing from your spot at the table, you notice that everyone has practically bolted out the door: except for Coriolanus.
“You okay, Y/N?” He asks, grabbing his bag.
“Yeah, just exhausted, that’s all. I feel like I’m reaching my limit, Coryo.” You respond.
Following Coriolanus to the mess hall, you were so deep into your conversation that you stopped paying attention to the stairs. Upon reaching the second to last bottom step, the sole of your shoe got caught, and you started to fall forward towards the carpeted floor.
Unable to stop yourself, Coriolanus jumped in and leaped forward. Swiftly catching you in his arms, you couldn’t help but yelp at the action.
“Are you alright? What happened?” He asked.
“I’m alright. I think I just slipped.” You reply.
Glancing up at Coriolanus, his worried face and scrunched brows made your stomach turn with excitement. His icy blue eyes were forever locked onto your own e/c orbs and his once neat blonde curls were now draped over his forehead.
Keeping his arms gently around your forearms, the echoing ambiance of the mess hall seemed to fade, until Arachne interrupted.
“Oh what do we have here? Some new lovebirds in our midst no doubt.” She teases.
“Leave them alone.” Sejanus called out.
Finally letting go of Coriolanus, the two of you fixed your uniforms and promptly headed to get dinner. Waiting in line for your food, you couldn’t help but feel Coriolanus’ grip on your shoulders. As your heartbeat slowly started to return to normal, you refused to let Arachne’s constant jokes get in your head.
After all, you had better things to worry about.
Returning to the study room, Coriolanus offered to carry your meal, so once he opened his paper bag, you rested your hand on top of his to make sure he didn’t let go.
“There. Thanks, Coryo.” You replied.
Briefly pulling your hand away, Coriolanus wouldn’t let you. He wanted to keep you here, with his hand in yours. But he hesitantly let go, as he knew that the study session was almost over.
Finishing your meals, you let Clemensia proofread your essay, to which she found was brilliant. After a while, you noticed that Coriolanus slowly moved closer to you. And after a few minutes of concentrated silence, his fingers began to brush along the trim of your jacket. Facing him, he promptly motioned toward his pile of notes.
“Can you explain this to me, Y/N? I don’t know what this line means.” He asked.
Leaning closer, you ended up sitting on the edge of your chair. Offering his hand on the small of your back, Coriolanus gave you his full attention as you started to explain the poem to him.
2K notes · View notes
onlyswan · 5 months
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summary: in which you drive jungkook mad but you make his heart beat.
idol!jungkook x f!reader, est. relationship / fluff, suggestive, a pinch of angst / word count: 5k
content/warnings: tried sumn different so this is mainly from jungkook’s pov :D !! drummer!oc ur so cool & i’m stealing u from ur bf 🏃— mention of a 10 yr age gap between jk & a guy who likes oc (he’s hella pissed off) ; mentions of (car) s^x ; allusion to a bl^wj^b ; jk just got home from tour & oc is tipsy, needy, & dramatic as hell T_T ; oc /briefly/ touches jk while he’s driving & he /nearly/ loses his shit & crashes the car (he doesn’t) (i’m kidding) + to the anon who wanted to jk’s cheek scar to get a kissy here u go 🥺
> in which masterlist!
note: oc is so shot glass of tears coded especially in this… i’m glad i’m posting this after golden came out just so i could say it 🥰 this takes place after this drabble sooo the end of oct 2018 <3 if u’ve read the prev drabble too, this was when jk said those exact words in the past 🥺 wrote this in the middle of hell week so i was half out of my mind :'] as always feedback & reblogs rrr always appreciated !! 🥺
jungkook loves the sound of rain— the gentle knocks on every surface of the earth has always been a lullaby even during daylight.
tonight is a different story, however. it is defeaning, terrifying even. he can barely see what is infront of him, spare the occasional headlights blazing across the slippery roads. his umbrella is being stolen away by the harsh gusts of wind and the mud stains on his sneakers are well-hidden by the plain black.
and yes, he is tired; and yes, this is hard, but that is the end of it.
you’re exactly where you told him you’d wait, far behind the edge of the roof where the rainwater falls from and splashes on the ground. you stand out in his blue oversized shirt, one that he purposely left behind in your closet so he could have something else to wear when he sleeps over.
you’re too busy typing on your phone to see him crossing the parking lot; he feels his very own vibrate in the pocket of his sweatpants. however, his giddy smile fades when a man exits through the entrance door and approaches you with a red umbrella. his strides become slightly hurried then, as he watches you politely decline it with that heart-fluttering smile of yours everybody adores.
“oh no, really, i’m fine. you might need it later! my boyfriend is already coming to pick me up anyway.”
jungkook acts cool. he tucks his hand in the pocket of his sweatpants, tries to make himself appear bigger because he realizes that he would be inches shorter than the man if not for the platforms of his shoes.
“____, baby!”
upon hearing your name coming from the lips of your lover, your face lights up even brighter.
“jungkook!”
you greet him with an embrace, jumping into his arms before he can properly set down his umbrella on the ground.
“yah, yah-yah! be careful!” he chuckles as he wraps his arms around your waist to catch you, peering down to check how high your boots are for you to be running and jumping around freely.
“hey, i’m going back inside- there’s more customers coming in. make it home safe, alright?”
the stranger tries to catch your attention, and jungkook’s protectiveness swiftly kicks in when he lays a hand on you and slides it down to your lower back. your boyfriend turns you away from the unprompted touch by pulling your body closer to his side, and he is unable to control how his eyebrows knit together in annoyance.
he wasn’t planning on giving much thought to the presence of a man around you. he knows better than that. but he has never heard about this one, which raises the question of who the fuck is he to freely touch you like that?
“oh- alright! thank you, jun!”
“you better take care of ____, man. it’s dangerous around here during this time.”
he receives a rather heavy and condescending pat on the shoulder, and so, with his annoyance bubbling worse, he wears a passive aggressive smile on his face.
“yeah, of course i am,”
jun’s nostrils flare as he witnesses you sneakily slide your hands underneath jungkook’s hoodie in search of warmth.
“i’m here now, so there’s no need to worry about my girlfriend anymore.”
he nods, then forces himself to smile. “that’s good, then.”
“yeah, thanks. we’re leaving.”
“oh, okay. have a nice night!”
“you too,”
he turns on his heel and returns inside the busy establishment— but not before jungkook made sure that he saw the bruises on his knuckles that he got from his boxing sessions.
his jaw clenches as he glares at the door.
is he being petty? sure, to hell with that. he doesn’t care. he’s always been one to trust his gut, and he has a bad feeling.
he is met by a love-drunk smile when his undivided attention is at last given to you, in the form of fond eyes and affectionate strokes of your hair.
“who was that?”
“eh, new bartender,” you shrug with disinterest. “hm, i think he’s 31…? he’s nice but he keeps talking about wrestling.”
he raises an eyebrow at the mention of his age, while your lips form a sad pout.
what the hell? he thought he would be 25 at most.
“the tv has been in the same channel for the past two weeks because of him. it’s all i’ve been seeing! i don’t like it-” you whine in distress, quite frankly, a little traumatized.
an endeared smile is coaxed out of him at your adorableness, how your speech is a little slurred and how you’re looking at him like you’re begging him to do something about it.
“makes me nervous,”
his dominant hand closes into a fist.
if he only he had known. should’ve fucking punched the guy, give him a taste of what he seems to be a huge fan of.
“let’s watch something calming when we get home, how about that?”
you nod your head, eyes that twinkle with eagerness fluttering shut when he leans in for a much awaited kiss. how sweet, he feels a little more alive than before. he can smell it, even taste it— the peach margarita you started sipping on before the band’s first set. concocted by jun, he presumes. he pulls away with a small smile, licking his lips for the traces of you that clung to him.
out of the blue, you burst into a fit of giggles, weak knees buckling as your weight crashes on him.
“i missed you!”
“babe, are you seriously drunk?” he chuckles, holding you with a secure grip around your torso.
“maaaybe tipsy…? i was pretending not to be.” you stand on your tip-toes to nuzzle your face against his neck, mumbling sheepishly. “only trust you.”
“i should’ve accepted the umbrella.” you grunt childishly, body going limp on jungkook’s back, except for the arm holding up the umbrella that shields the both of you from the pouring rain.
“yah!” he scolds you, clearly not pleased with the words that just came from your mouth. “what does that mean?”
“i’m embarrassed! they’re probably feeling bad for you.”
the last sentence comes out as a whisper, pertaining to the side glances you’ve been attracting from strangers as you make your way to your boyfriend’s car.
unfortunately, he had to park somewhere far because the restobar’s parking lot was already full.
you jokingly complained about staining your white boots with dirt and mud, but you instantly regretted it when he bent down, signalling you to ride on his back without an ounce of hesitation.
“our shoulders always get wet when we share an umbrella,” he said. “if i carry you, wouldn’t it be better?”
“embarrassing? some would even say romantic!”
something peculiar happens then— when your lips ghost over his left cheek, planting an affectionate kiss there that lasts for seconds. you pull away with a smacking sound, giggly and bubbly, might be his favorite version of you.
“i love you,” you hum, grasping the umbrella upright before it could tip over.
he doesn’t know if you did it on purpose or not, kissing him precisely where his scar is, but his heart jumps in his chest when he feels it begin to throb.
as if the wound from his childhood has come alive. as if, once again, he is bleeding as he glares at his older brother, and he still wants to play games on the computer oblivious to the fact that it would leave a permanent scar, a brand new landmark on his body.
you mistake his silence for something else.
you frown, warm breath tickling his neck as you quietly ask. “are you still mad at me?”
he sighs, vision landing on the ground as his walking pace slows down. “no? i was wrong. i shouldn’t have questioned your decision in the first place… why would i be mad?”
you started playing the drums for your friend’s band two months ago, just as soon as he left for tour. you volunteered after witnessing how distraught they were when their drummer vanished without a trace. he learned that it used to be a hobby of yours from childhood until early teenage years, playing the drums, but it was robbed from you when your father took his instruments with him when he abandoned your home for another.
he was pleasantly surprised when he learned about it, recounted all the times your hands and fingers were drumming on any sort of surface and his head naturally bopped to the beat, but then again, you never brought it up.
isn’t ____ so cool? he would proudly say when he flaunts you to his friends, even the protocol team, who have never seen him so happy.
three times a week, from nine in the evening until midnight, your phone was propped up on an empty table infront of the stage, and him, on the other side of the globe, excitedly watched you from backstage while he was getting ready for their own show. some other times, he was in his hotel room, or the private jet. his patience has been tested by crappy wifi, nosy and noisy people, and his earphones that stopped working while you looked insanely attractive grooving to ‘why’d you only call me when you’re high?’ as you effortlessly played the drums. he showered you with compliments as you did for him. you’re working hard so he must do the same.
he arrived home from tour the other day, spent the rest of its hours sleeping. yesterday, he waited for you at school and then at work like a lost puppy, slept on your bed (if he’s being honest, the two of you didn’t do much sleeping) then woke up at 9am for work.
and he tried his best, he really did, to get out of the company early enough to catch you playing a song or two. after all, it was your last day at the job.
much as you enjoyed reconnecting with an old flame— loved the overflowing tips that came from those who were amazed by your talent (well, there were also those who were just trying to get into your pants), the moment that the old drummer got down on his knees begging to be taken back by his best friends, just like how you became a part of the band, you voluntarily stepped down.
jungkook didn’t agree with this decision. he didn’t understand why you’d sacrifice something that makes you happy for a person who fucked up and wasted what they had. you went back and forth over it on the phone until you cried, told him that it wasn’t easy for you, and he couldn’t hold you in his arms or kiss your face. he could only apologize, and it even felt insincere doing it through a screen.
maybe he’s only relieved that you no longer need to be around a man an entire decade older than he is, who is obviously interested in you and serves you alcohol drinks. no, that doesn’t sit right with him. he needs jun, or whatever the fuck his true name is, to stay very far away from his baby.
“i’m just sad that i never got to watch you perform in person.”
you rest your cheek on his shoulder, heavy eyelids slowly blinking as the headlights of a black van blindsides you.
what the fuck. too bright.
“me too…”
“i’m bored,” you release a dramatic sigh, stealing a glimpse of jungkook at the driver’s seat, just to see if you caught his attention like you intended.
his eyes are trained on the dashboard, however, focused on the navigation guide displayed on his phone. he isn’t very familiar with this part of the city. it took him more than an hour to arrive at the address you sent him, including the time he spent in the middle of traffic.
“forty-eight minutes, then we can do whatever you want.”
“whatever i want?”
he slows down the car, briefly turning his head to find you expectantly looking at him with wide, hopeful eyes.
“of course,” he laughs, taking one hand off the wheel to squish your cheeks together. “just tell me what it is, baby.”
he doesn’t catch the sad look that flashes across your face after you lose his touch.
“then i’ll tell you when i figure out what i want,” you say quietly.
“i thought you already had something in mind?”
“nope,” you answer with yet another sigh.
you choose to stare out the window in silence, body completely slumping into your seat in defeat.
jungkook’s senses are sharp, or he likes to believe so. “are you okay?”
“i’m okay,”
“you sure?”
“hmm,” you hum curtly, and then you close your eyes, so he decides not to press further despite wanting to.
he meets a red traffic light not long after that. and so, he hurriedly grabs the black fleece blanket in the backseat. he envelopes you in it, crossing the distance between you to softly press his lips onto yours for a goodnight kiss. he feels you respond, albeit lazily, and he smirks cockily when you lift yourself up to chase him for one more, please— desperately, to get your fill of goodnight kisses from the many nights that you missed it.
the time seems to tick excruciatingly slow now that you’re quiet. a minute is multiplied by a hundred. the steady rhythm of your breathing keeps him sane throughout dark avenues and encounters with reckless drivers of the midnight scene.
he missed you. he missed you so much, and he knows that you’re tired from university, and tutoring high school students in english, and playing the drums for more than two hours… but he selfishly wishes that you’re awake right now so he can make up for the two months that you were apart.
be careful of what you wish for, they said.
jungkook should know better by now.
“i can’t sleep,” he hears you whisper in a dulcet tone that indirectly tells him you’re in need of some love… but he isn’t given the chance to act upon that request because you’re already all over what it is that you need.
he swallows thickly, glancing down at your hand that has somehow found its way to his inner thigh— zeroing in on your red nails, can feel them faintly grazing his skin.
you’re so pretty. everywhere.
even when naked and bare.
no, especially. it’s all he can think about.
he can draw you from memory.
“____,” he utters your name through gritted teeth, heart beginning to race a thousand miles per second in his chest.
the effect of your teasing touch is instantaneous, slowly inching closer and closer to where his growing erection is. his eyes remain focused on the road, but he fears that he’ll start thinking with his dick soon if you carry on with this act a few seconds longer.
“shit, not now, baby- please- not while i’m driving.”
your bottom lip is caught between your teeth, poorly concealing a self-satisfied smirk, and you pretend not to hear a single word from his plea.
a minx, that’s what you are, always causing trouble and blurring lines in his eyes.
“____, i’m not joking around. don’t make me mad-”
his warning is cut short by-
“fuck… fuck,” he curses, filter flying out the window once he feels you tracing the outline of his hard-on, the feather-light touch of your fingers smoothly gliding across the fabric of his sweatpants, and he completely loses it when your soft palm caresses his cock, so gentle that it feels almost innocent.
okay, so he couldn’t feel it because you weren’t skin-to-skin, but he knows that your hands are soft, can feel his imagination running wilder because he has memorized the way they feel on most parts of his body.
you’re so incredibly nasty and evil for this— squeezing him lightly, taking advantage of how sensitive he’s gotten, making him tremble as pleasure shoots up his spine. his breath stutters in his lungs and he unconsciously pushes harder on the gas.
and although it means fighting every fiber of his being that painfully yearns for more, he seizes your wrist in an iron grip, placing your hand over the gearstick while his sits heavy on top of yours.
“____! behave! you’re going to get us killed!”
he watches you jut out your bottom lip through the rearview mirror, eyes hazy with lust staring down at where your hand used to be, and then his handsome face. he is evidently flushed, honey skin dusted with a rosy pink. all the way to the tips of his ears, down to his neck.
while he’s driving? really?
doesn’t this only happen in wet dreams?
you are not real.
“then pull over,” you plead. “please?”
he releases a shaky breath. you’re always so needy with alcohol in your system, drove him into total insanity while he couldn’t be here to give you what you wanted.
“no, you need to learn how to be patient… told you we can do whatever you want when we get home, right?”
wrong move.
the silence returns, and just when he thought that you went back to your journey to slumber, the sound of your sniffles fill the car.
jungkook’s heart breaks into a million pieces.
also, he wants to slam his head against the steering wheel.
you make it so fucking hard to resist you; you always get what you want. it becomes much harder when he is the subject of your desire and he loves being loved.
“haven’t i been patient enough…? i missed you so much.”
“and i missed you too!” he brings your intertwined hands to his lips, pressing them on your skin. “fuck, you have no idea how much… please, don’t cry.”
“then pull over,” you stubbornly insist, and he is so close to driving this car into a lamp post. “fuck me at the backseat.”
“can’t,” he mumbles, sounding almost pained, and he is. he wants you so bad, it hurts. “we’re going to have to do it without protection.”
“what do you mean?” you exclaim.
you rip your hand away from his, not wasting time in unlocking the glove compartment, and a sound of sheer disappointment escapes from your mouth as you collapse back on your seat.
“jungkook, i hate you!”
“well right now i hate myself too!” he cries out in frustration. “i didn’t have the time to buy more, okay?”
“and there’s not one in your wallet?”
“babe, are you serious?!”
“what?!”
somehow, his hands still expertly swivels the steering wheel as the car meets a curve.
but he feels dizzy. the ghost of your touch is still there, a promise of carnal pleasure unfulfilled.
“stop the car,” you say out of the blue, rather calmly, and that terrifies the shit out of him.
he swallows the lump in his throat, eyes switching between you and the road in panic. “huh?”
“i said stop the car, i’m stepping out.”
“babe, come on,” he moans, ruined and tormented. he reaches for your hand but you scoot further away from him, and he ignores the way his heart drops to his stomach as he kneads your exposed thigh instead. “please, don’t be like this. i just got home.”
“jungkook! if you don’t let me get off this car right now, i swear!”
the urgency embedded in your threatening voice leaves your boyfriend with no choice but to pull over to the side of the street as soon as he gets the chance.
he carries on to unbuckle his seatbelt.
“baby, stop being stu-”
he tries to reach for you, but he is rudely ignored as you hop off the car and slam the door shut on his face.
“…bborn…”
he blinks.
he inhales. he exhales.
and then he buries his face in his hands to scream… as quietly as possible.
“what the fuck was in that margarita?!”
jungkook steps out of the car worried sick about you. now wearing a black bucket hat, his head whips in different directions in search for the familiar shape of your body, your hair, your shirt that is his, anything.
his arm rests on top of the car door, the other on the roof, fingers drumming on it anxiously as he chews on his bottom lip.
there are mostly restaurants here, it seems. some are already closed, some are still lights on. not far away, he hears a karaoke place bursting with music and laughter. he looks up and he finds that the night sky remains barren of stars; there’s no guidance from the heavens that will lead him to you.
except for the sound of your sweet voice calling out his name.
he turns around, and he knows it’s going to sound extremely silly, but damn, you make his life feel like a movie— because you’re jogging towards him, and the universe begins moving in slow motion. perhaps it is to prevent him from falling on his knees in relief, because he genuinely thought that you already went home on your own like the stubborn brat that you are.
“____, where did you go?! you can’t just run off like that! seriously, that was not nice!”
“i forgot my wallet!” you squeal as you halt infront of him, slapping your forehead as a way to scold yourself. “i found a hotteok cart!”
his anger quickly dissipitates. he scans your face, mouth agape in bewilderment.
you, screaming at him to stop the car because there was a sighting of your favorite snack? makes sense.
he dishes out the wallet from his pocket. “wha- i thought you… you didn’t have money?”
you shake your head to answer his question.
“then how are you already eating?”
you take another bite from the hot hotteok you’re holding in a paper cup, and then you shrug.
“i was already eating when i realized it,” you point at yourself, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “so he let me run back here. does it look like this face would steal?”
“you’re impossible!” he bursts out laughing, the unique sound of his joy harmonizing with the mundane noises of the city.
he is thoroughly amused and in awe of your undeniable charm never failing to work its magic. if you just gave it a shot, you might be even better at him at his job.
you’re pliant as he captures your wrist, tugging you away with him so he can lock the car.
“i bought three, by the way.” you note as the two of you start walking, with you clinging to his side. “the last three then mister can go home.”
you put the hotteok near his mouth, and he pauses to take a big bite. “have you even had dinner?”
“just the four margaritas- they were yummy! or was it five?”
he clicks his tongue in disappointment, but he doesn’t get to say anything more about it because you’ve reached the hotteok cart, and he’s already handing the vendor the money.
“thank you!” he bows his head politely as he accepts the remaining two you mentioned earlier, handing them over to you.
“no, this is yours.” you speak with tenderness, giving back one of the cups to him. “then we’ll split the third one. it’s really good!”
the vendor secretly watches the interaction with a fond smile as he packs up to finally, finally end his long day working at the busy streets of seoul.
you’re sat together on the hood of jungkook’s car as you share a midnight snack. with caring hands, you rip the hotteok apart in perfect halves, offering the other to your lover. he accepts it in between his teeth.
“do you want drums as your christmas gift?”
“love,” you search for the words to say as you chew the food in your mouth. “i can barely fit in my apartment. where am i going to put a drum set…? not to mention that i can’t even cry without my neighbor hearing it.”
his shoulders drop in dejection, and you rub your boyfriend’s back in an attempt to comfort him.
“you must really want to see me play, don’t you?”
“i’m dying to,” he says in pure jungkook fashion, tone dramatic and thick with an accent that is entirely his. “i can’t believe there were regulars who saw you every night, while i, your boyfriend, didn’t even see you once…! even that fucking bartender… this- this can’t be right! do you think this makes sense? no, right?”
“aw, my baby,” you coo at him, jutting out your bottom lip as you tenderly cup his face.
“i don’t trust him, by the way,” he scoffs. “as much as possible, stay away from him when you visit, alright…? if i see him touching you one more time, i don’t know what i’ll end up doing to him.”
“i don’t like him either,” you giggle. “so that’s easy.”
he stares at your bloodshot eyes. damn it, you haven’t sobered up.
“____, i’m serious. he’s weird. i’m worried about you but i can’t always be here to protect you.”
you blink at him innocently. “i am too! serious!”
“you promise me?”
“i promise!”
he nods, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he gets lost in the sea of his own thoughts. “i should talk to your friends about this, too. is that okay?”
“if that will ease your mind,” you half-smile, heart fluttering in your chest because you feel so cherished.
comfortable silence follows suit.
the hotteok is still soft and warm and sweet. if your love had to be delivered to his doorstep, it would in the form of your favorite food.
he sighs to gain more of your sympathy, basking in the attention he’s receiving from you. he missed this. he missed you. he sounds like a broken record, but it’s true.
“come ooon, don’t be sad! i’ll make it up to you! but it’s a surprise!”
“surprise?” he eyes you with suspicion. “what surprise?”
“just trust me, alright?”
you poke his cheek where his dimples are, and you witness them pop out as he copies your contagious smile.
“can i make a guess?”
“nope!”
you fit the remaining piece of your hotteok in your mouth, jumping off the hood of the car. you stand before him as you wipe your hands clean with a small paper napkin.
“don’t you dare. if you guess it right then my plans will be ruined!”
you’re back on the passenger seat to travel the remaining twenty-seven minutes to your apartment.
jungkook melts into the tenderness of your touch as he drives. you’re tracing the toned muscles of his arms; stroking his hair, his face, and the smell of the sticky brown sugar from the hotteok still lingers on your skin.
“when are you going to start getting tattoos?” you wonder out loud as he intertwines your fingers together on top of his thigh. “i think you’d look so pretty.”
“i’m planning on it.”
his heart skips a beat at the thought of you remembering that he wants his skin artfully inked as you absentmindedly distracted yourself with it.
he licks his lips, smiling as he looks over at you. “you really think so? pretty?”
“hm, hot, too,” you stick your tongue out playfully, and he snorts out a laugh. “but as long as you’re happy, then nothing else matters.”
“of course- wait, yah! you still need to eat dinner.” he reminds you once he recognizes the path you’re taking.
a grocery store is not more than a kilometer away, if his memory serves him right.
“what do you want? i don’t mind cooking.”
“for you to fuck me, that’s what i want. you won’t mind that, too?”
oh my fucking god.
he wishes you were passed out drunk instead so he wouldn’t have to suffer this battle between self-control and his insatiable appetite for you.
“baby, aren’t you still sore from this morning?”
“a little,” he notices you squeezing your thighs together from his peripheral, and along with it, the bruises on your knees from when you worshipped his body last night. “but i want you.”
your giggles in reaction to him frustratedly running his fingers through his hair seems to only fuel the dirty thoughts in his head. he uncomfortably shifts in his seat to adjust himself.
“can you just bring it up when we get near your house? you’re killing me over here!”
“but why? i’m having fun.” you bring your tangled hands over to your side, peppering the back of his hand with innocent kisses. “i love you. you’re so cute.”
“are you… are you seriously calling me cute after what you just asked me to fuck you?”
his disbelief is challenged by your amusement.
“why not? being one dimensional? boring. being different things all at once? sexy.”
jungkook doesn’t need to see you play the drums to know that you are the only one capable of making his heart beat like this. to feel it pounding, it turns out there’s another way besides performing, he can just be alone with you. a different type of addictive exhilaration. he isn’t at the top of the world; he free falls as it revolves around you.
you always know the right words to say, because right now, he is preening. he’s wearing a big smile, the kind that looks like he’s laughing, but he’s not— almost. the kind that reaches his eyes, shapes them into little crescent moons.
how did he get so lucky?
rehearsals in the morning be damned, he will be fucking you good all night.
you make a noise of confusion when the car swerves into the trees at the side of the road.
“what are we doing here?”
jungkook only spares you a glance. “get in the backseat, baby.”
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satoruhour · 7 months
Note
Accidentally sending gojo a nude and before you can properly apologise he sends a video of his own which leads to..well🫣
BABY BLUE SWEETNESS
a/n: my clit grew hands and wrote this. combined this w/ a part 2 of being gojo’s roommate / tagging @jabamin @hyomagiri @utahimeow @lov3rbody my gojo fuckers
wc: 3.7k (I HAVE GOT TO STOP WRITING SM ....)
warnings: mutual pining, roommate!gojo, dom!gojo, he gets rough but only bc he loves ur pussy sssoooo much, sending nudes by accident to gojo, semi-public m! masturbation, filming (on gojo’s end), pet names, praise, slight f! masturbation, oral / cunnilingus, nipple play, bit of dialogue during sex, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink (twice!), multiple rounds, implied m! oral, n*sfw under the cut
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the next week goes by uneventfully.
but you think there’s hardly anything worth happening when you hadn’t even said anything about that: standing outside satoru’s room, hearing his pleasured moans along with the slickness of his hand on his cock and watching him at his most vulnerable with whispers of your name.
gojo did have a few moments of weakness — brief bouts of failing to meet your eyes, stuttering, but he was still predominantly himself after, throwing laundry on the floor and leaving the toilet paper roll unfilled. by date, he was the messiest roommate you’ve roomed with, compared to sleeping over at shoko’s and geto’s places before; sure it was obvious enough being friends with him since high school, though you hadn’t thought that the rowdy, outgoing way that he spoke would translate into his living space, too.
and despite being the one who has the upper hand that very day you decided to stop and watch, he still manages to have some sort of hold on you, catching you off-guard at the worst times.
“any luck with the mods?” gojo peeks over at your laptop over at the small dining table, your leg propped up and a scowl on your face at how you were still on the waitlist. while mr. perfect beside you has gotten every module he’s bidded for, a course on philosophy, romantic and 20th century music as well as an online mod about ethics.
“i don’t even know why you got that last one! funny how the most annoying person who has anything but morals is entering an ethics course.” maybe it was the fact that you’ve already waited one and a half weeks. perhaps it was that one piece of clothing gojo loved to leave on the floor, or simply it was just because of the man himself — you were on your wit’s end with the week.
that fades away when you’re turning your head and gojo is right there, hovering over your computer screen with a sly smirk on his face and his stupid bright, blue eyes that you could spend hours staring at.
“you wound me, baby,” gojo whispers, like it was a secret between the two of you and he pulls away, both hearts beating an unnatural speed at the proximity. gojo swears to himself he’ll never call you anything close to that or be that close because it’s absolutely not good for his heaving chest and hardening dick — those pretty plump lips of yours and the innocent look on your face — he wanted to both kiss it and fuck it.
and yet, on dormitory movie nights where you’re sat on both ends of the couch with geto and shoko between the two of you, satoru wills himself to patiently wait until the end of the first movie to stretch his limbs and get more snacks; he knows you’ll follow, too, because it’s been like that for as long as he can remember.
“you know you have to stop eating all that candy, right?” you’re saying it mindlessly, pouring more chips into a bowl and getting the hummus and guac, “it’s not healthy.”
gojo’s leaning on the counter and doesn’t help whatsoever, both elbows on the wood and head tipped back to meet your height.
“aw, is my cute roomie worried about me?” you almost want to ignore him with that little compliment, not sure if he even meant it, but you’re leaning into him this time with a little glance down to his lips that he thinks he imagined it.
“no, just wondering how embarrassed i’ll be when i have to tell the paramedics that when you finally collapse on the floor, it was because my dumb roommate had consumed too much sugar.” you like this little game you play with satoru, yet you’ve never been this bold; maybe it’s because you know he finds you hot, too, but the two of you are too stubborn to stand your ground and admit the obvious.
gojo’s feigned pout spreads into a grin and simply blows a raspberry at your explanation. there’s a crinkle of yet another sweet packet, disregarding your chastise from earlier. “smart little thing, hm?”
“i become the brightest when you’re involved,” you swipe the sweet from his fingers and pop it into your mouth, “i have to when i need to insult you.” the two of you spend the rest of the movie night hip to hip on the couch, ignoring the fire in your connected limbs and the spark of your fingers when they brush against each other.
it’s a few months before you’re fully embracing that you might not just find your roommate hot, but that maybe you’d want to “wife” him up as the other has expressed jokingly. it didn’t help that gojo is cleaning up a little more often these days, learning how to cook and using his inside voice like you told him to (you didn’t think he’d remember). the last straw was possibly seeing him fuss over you when you fell sick, switching to remote classes just so he could be close to you — his main excuse was that he didn’t want his laundry to be infected.
“but you don’t even like to use shirts half the time you’re home!”
“you’re calling this home—” gojo giggles while simultaneously shoving cough mixture down your throat, “i didn’t know we were married!”
“shut your trap before i really make you regret this.”
but gojo thinks that maybe it wasn’t so bad to come home to you in one of his future days, he just had to get through this first.
it was meant to be a simple photo to show off your new set of lingerie, the ones that you had gotten with your girls at a half-off price just the other day. you couldn’t blame yourself when your hands naturally reached for one that mirrored gojo’s eyes alongside the white details that represent his hair. buy it, take a potential nude and laugh about it in the group chat, that’s all. you felt so damn sexy in it that you even went as far as to take a few photos with your bra unclasped and phone in hand hiding your chest, until the very last one where it was fully off.
you felt unlike yourself, in that stuffy, small dorm while satoru was out in a lecture—
before gojo texts you about groceries and his chat moves to the very top that same moment you’ve got all these lewd, unnatural pictures of you waiting to be sent. it happened all too fast: at least 10 being delivered and read on the spot that your panic is indescribable and you want to melt into mush on the floor.
while you’re scrambling to delete them, gojo stares at your figure in that last racy picture, hands skilfully covering your breasts just enough that he could still see the curve of them and then down to your figure interrupted by a pretty pair of blue lace undies. it’s like you planned this, looking so delectable in your little get-up until it all disappears and you’re sending multiple messages of “i’m so sorry”’s and “it was an accident”’s.
gojo thanked the heavens he was sat at the very back of the lecture theatre, immediately booking it out of there with the images of you seared into his brain. his cock is throbbing and so, so hard it almost hurts to walk to the restroom, and you’re still continuing your apologies. he wants to scream at you — how you do not need to say sorry for whatever you’ve just sent, because as he removes his dick from his tight pants, there’s a soft sigh of your name that falls from his lips.
satoru is reminded of the times you’d be sat in your stupid booty shorts in the dorm, basically showing your folds because he just knew you didn’t like to use underwear underneath. he’s reminded of the times you had to (unwillingly) use one of his shirts when the washing machine had broken down and the only thing on his mind at the time was what you’d look like bouncing on him — he thinks that maybe he just needs to spit it the fuck out, and so he opens the video feature on your private chat.
“this is what you do t’me, baby,” gojo’s tip is already leaking so much pre-cum, making sure he can be seen, expression and all, “you make me so— s-shit— fucking hard.”
he didn’t even care if he could be heard, pumping his cock to the thought of you in that baby blue set of lingerie. he thinks of ripping it all off of you and buying you more just so he could do the same thing again and again, eyes scrunching up in bliss as his hand continues to move up and down his length. his hand isn’t even close to what he wants to feel — your tight pussy sucking him in — but he settles for it, squeezing his palm around his shaft and thumbs his tip.
“ya see this, angel?” gojo chokes out a moan when he sees another notification of ‘i really didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable’ and it was the exact opposite for him in this bathroom stall, really hoping this video would drive his point home, “s’all for you, f— fuck.”
the video is incoherent from then on, because it’s all too much for him, the strokes of his warm hand, the images of your body, the sensitivity of his cock. lewd noises of him jerking off and his whines echo throughout the restroom, cumming with a slack mouth and babbles of your name on his lips.
“fuck, fuck, fuckkk…” satoru can hardly care as his cum stains his shirt, leaving his cock in needy spurts that dribble down his hand as well, wishing he could see it against your skin instead of his own. the end of the video is messy and hasty that he doesn’t even think much as he sends it, but it’s not even halfway through the video before you’re sending a simple “please come back, now.” and his heart jumps in his chest.
gojo simply shoots a quick text to geto, asking him to help him pack his things because he will definitely not be returning.
you’re so glad you don’t have any more classes for the day, too, because all you can think about now is satoru and his cock, blessed again with the sight of him losing himself in pleasure except now, he knew. your hands aren’t hesitant in reaching down to your core, lingerie already soaked through as you watch the short two minute video over and over as you lazily play with your clit with your eyes trained on his hand. it’s so hypnotising you don’t realise gojo’s already home, standing at your room door with his bulge showing through his pants and sweat lining his brow.
“did you run here?” you sit up, hands covering your chest instinctively. he shakes his head and you remove them.
“you know the bus will take too long, baby.”
you ignore the flutter of your heart and pussy when you know he says the pet name with intent, now, not in a joking or teasing manner. you want to hear it more.
“was that really an accident?”
you’re kneeling on your bed now, and gojo just wants to shut you up and make you take back all your apologies.
“it was!” you counter, not minding how your roommate slips his hand around your waist and is just inches from you, “but…”
gojo never truly loses his personality even when he’s hot and bothered, “but what, princess?”
that’s new.
you grin at his chivalry even when you’ve got your chest all vulnerable like this: he’s trying to break you with his eyes, the one thing that led you to choose baby blue in the first place. you win when his eyes flit down to your tits.
“but you still ended up sending me a video of you jerking off — hardly any decorum, huh, satoru?”
gojo rolls his eyes, hands trailing up your body and coming to rest at your boobs, “yeah. but you love it.”
that’s all he says before he dips down and takes a nipple into his mouth, leaving your hands to tangle in his hair as your back arches to give him more space. he’s so hungry, swirling his tongue around your hardened bud as he kneads the other, eyes occasionally meeting yours from your chest.
“d’you like the vid?” his speech is muffled.
“like it? i loved it—” a soft moan leaves you, “didn’t know you were such a sub, though.”
gojo laughs into your skin and you’re obsessed with the feeling, challenging him when he reaches your eyes again with a glint in his eyes.
“oh, you’re in for it, baby.” gojo grins, capturing your lips and feeling so free now that everything’s out in the open. he’s finally able to feel your lips on his, so soft and slow, making him go crazy from such a simple gesture. gojo pushes you gently onto your bed, kissing down your exposed body before coming to your pelvis, playing with the hem of the underwear.
“gotta thank this little guy for solving our problems.”
“please do not call my lingerie ‘little guy’,” you giggle, letting him remove the garment and you preen at the praise he gives your pussy.
“s’wet… is this all for me?” gojo shamelessly inhales your essence, the sight of him between your legs enough to make anyone cum.
“yeah…” it’s a whisper when you say it, breathless and impatient yet loving the way he treats you. “i get wet only for you, ‘toru.”
gojo moans at that, eyes rolling back momentarily before his mouth descends on your pussy and you think you can hear a brief hymn of hallelujah. he savours your cunt slowly, licking lazy stripes up and down your pussy and your moans match them — soft, drawn out — hands playing seamlessly with his hair. gojo’s startling baby blues meet you for a second and he smiles softly before he places a kiss to your clit.
a twitch, and satoru fully shows his expertise in the next second, eating you out like he was a starved man and you were the last meal on earth. your roommate sucks on your clit, groaning into your core as he feels your thighs close in around his head and your heels dig into his back. he switches easily to your hole, driving his tongue into the leaking entrance and his nose starts to nudge at your nub.
“satoru— s-shit!” your moans increase in volume, hands pulling harshly at his locks. “feel s’good—”
“yeah?” he speaks into your cunt, slurping up your juices time and time again until his jaw aches. your pussy just tastes so sweet that it’s got him grinding into the bed, too, relieving his cock with desperation. “was made just to eat you out, sweetness.”
“doing so well— are you close?” it was difficult to hold on when satoru was talking to you like that and devouring you so good, thumb now playing with your folds while his tongue focuses primarily on your clit again. he flicks at it and his eyes look at you for your answer, merely nodding pathetically as his abuse on your cunt is relentless. gojo would love to memorise the way you clench around his thumb, but he’s too fixated on your whines before you cum with a cry of his name.
“o—oh fuck— ‘t-toru! oh my goddd…” his mouth never stops moving even when your thighs tremble around his head and your body convulses, clit throbbing in his mouth and your mewls reaching the highest heavens.
gojo grins into your cunt, making sure you watch him as he collects all your juices onto his tongue, giving your pussy one last satisfied lick before he sits up, making quick work of his pants and he shows you how to not have one ounce of decorum like you commented on earlier—
because as he pumps the cock you saw just minutes ago, you tongue darts out to lick your lips unknowingly. as he drags the tip along your folds, you’re spreading your legs wider for him. as he slaps his cock along your cunt, your hips are moving on their own accord to feel more of him.
“filthy girl,” gojo leans in to your face, “talkin’ bout me having decorum. you should see yourself.”
you laugh, bringing him in for a brief kiss. you liked that you still could banter in times like this.
“i’ll admit i never had it, so it would b-be—” gojo slips just the tip in and you’re cut off, a choked whimper leaving you, “hypocritical to criticise you.”
“ya think?” gojo wiggles his hips gently, sinking into you and the squeeze of your cunt around his cock is too perfect, too tight. his own whines leave him as he eases inch by inch into you before you’re confessing.
“y’know after seeing you jerk off that day— f-fuck, in your room,” you mumble, wrapping your legs around his middle that causes him to moan, “i wanted nothing more than to help you clean up, cum and all.”
gojo chuckles breathlessly, you two have been pining for months? but he recovers just as quickly, bottoming out with a loud sigh. he lets your hands travel over his face, holding it in your palms.
“y-yeah? why didn’t you?”
“wasn’t sure if you liked me—” a whine cuts through your words as he takes the first slam into you.
“i’ll make sure you know how much i like you, baby, ‘kay?” gojo manages to get out before his hips moves into you, no longer able to hold conversation with the way your cunt sucks him in. he’s determined now, to show you how someone like you had a hold on him so strong that he was willing to pick up dirty clothes and take time out of his day to collect groceries. it’s not long before your roommate is able to pick up a pace, loving the way you trap him with your legs as his hips piston in and out of you.
the room is so much more stuffy, now, filled with the scent of sweat and sex as his pelvis meets your ass in timed thrusts. it was so filthy, too, cum from your previous orgasm aiding him as lube and sticking to his pubes from how much you were dripping.
“y-yeah— fuck me like how you’ve been wanting to, ‘toru—” you mumble out softly, already drunk on his cock. you swear you can feel the veins and his cockhead twitch at that, the sounds of the other filling your ears.
“you take me so, so well, baby,” gojo praises, face buried in your neck as he gives you kisses there, mind blank except for how you’re so wet that your arousal is spurting everywhere each time he comes up to the hilt in you, “taking my cock and squeezing me s’good.”
little pants leave you at the affirmations, and like always, gojo is a fast learner, already knowing your sweet spots when a hand sneaks down to rub at your clit. the circles go in time with his thrusts, and before then, you’re jerking in his arms, nails scratching at his back as your pussy spasms on his cock. gojo groans into your skin, hips still ramming into you before the clench of your cunt prompts him to cum as well.
“right there— s-shit!” you’re moaning when you can feel his cum seeping into you, the exact thing you’re imagining feeling even better as he loads you up, but you don’t have time to react when gojo flips you over. a quick glance to his face tells you he’s intoxicated on your pussy, pressing down on your arch.
“can you handle— another load— baby?” it comes out in between his thrusts, the way he begs to cum in you again and you’re never one to deny when you’ve wanted this for the longest time. you let satoru use you, face buried in the sheets below you while his thrusts start to turn sloppy. he’s not giving one fuck that he’s cummed the fastest he’s ever done before and how he’s going to do it again, but it’s inevitable when he’s got your cunt wrapped around him.
“y— yes, satoru— want you to fill me up, p-please—” it all overloads him: the way his cock disappears into your hole, the residual cum from earlier sticking to your ass and his pelvis, that white ring of semen around the base of his dick, your desperate pleas and cries.
it only takes one stroke of his hand on your clit before you’re cumming so fast again together with him, fingers grasping at the sheets as your pussy flutters around his length and you get his second load in return. it’s so viscous and hot, spilling into your hole. it’s so much, body going limp against satoru’s messy thrusts as he continues to rut into you, stilling finally when he starts to cramp in his thighs.
“attagirl, that’s it, sweetness,” gojo gasps out from behind you, staying locked in you as his cock spurts out the last bits of his cum. he presses a small kiss to your shoulder, asking softly into your skin if you were okay.
“more than okay—” a small mewl is heard when gojo pulls out slowly, sighing to himself upon seeing the way your cunt push out his cum naturally. there’s so much of it, spilling onto the sheets, but before he can take it upon himself to plug two fingers into your entrance, you’re dragging him to lie properly on the bed—
“not done?” your roommate laughs, a hand playing with your neck and the hickeys he’s left there.
you shake your head, noting how satoru’s cock is still sensitive when your hand closes around it, and you finally can see gojo in all of his glory when your tongue kitten licks at his tip and a shiver travels through his body. his hooded eyes and the buck of his hips are all you need to continue.
“i haven’t told you how much i like you, ‘toru. should i show you now?”
somewhere on your dresser, there’s several messages from your girls, but you’re too preoccupied with satoru’s cock in your mouth to notice — ah, well, you’d update them later.
[6:23pm, operation get (y/n) a partner]: photo attached (4)
@(y/n) girl where is your pic !!!! show us that cute baby blue lingerie pleaseee!!
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itostea · 2 months
Text
my first & last love (gojo x reader)
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satoru realizes he's in love with you after you suggest he set you up with suguru
tags: fem! reader, Gojo praises you like A LOT! slight miscommunications, childhood friends to lovers, reader gets drunk & satoru helps, he's a lovesick idiot & dramatic, both yours & his pov, gojo’s implied to be taller than reader, slightly suggestive bc it’s gojo, slight angst
word count: 11k
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The first time Gojo Satoru learned true, unadulterated jealousy was on a Friday night out in his sports car–the crickets chirping to the melody of a random song. 
It was real jealousy—not just simple, petty envy. Not like the envy he felt when someone got to taste the limited edition cupcakes at the bakery before he did or the envy of studying hard and getting a lower score than someone who didn’t (which is a lie because Gojo was that very person who was effortlessly good at everything he did). 
Either way, he’s never felt the bite of jealousy, breaking the flesh as blood drips slowly, lingering as if it could never be washed away from his skin. Never felt it smother his throat with needles and leave him with a metallic taste in his mouth. That is, until today.
It was colder than usual but he still insisted on grabbing some ice-cream from the local convenience store, declaring it was his your reward for putting up with the party Sukuna hosted–the same party that ended in your dress being soaked in vomit. The atmosphere was perfect for sentiment, for talking–for confessing. 
You’re humming to the beat of the song, licking your lips clean of the ice cream you just ate. “Satoru,” you murmur his name softly, staring at him through your lashes. 
“Yeah?” His eyes drink in the sight of you: your droopy eyes from sleep, the faded lip tint on your lips, the hoodie he let you borrow that’s obviously a few sizes too big on you. There’s hardly any light coming in but he can still feel your eyes on him, the tension so thick he thinks he might suffocate from it. 
For a moment, he’s scared, fearful of what you were going to say because he knows this silence. This is the very silence that happens before someone confesses to him, the same suspense that he has to mentally prepare himself for since he knew he was going to break another heart. And he’s terrified that he might have to do it to you–his friend, his neighbor, someone who he’s known for a very long time. 
“I need to tell you something,” you start and he winces, shifting uncomfortably on the driver’s seat. 
“You do?” He mutters. You’re nervous. He can tell because he’s known you long enough to understand what you’re feeling–long enough to know that your eyes are darting from place to place, a habit of yours.
His chest squeezes when you take a deep breath just as he exhales, already making his mind to grant you a swift rejection. He hopes you can forgive him after this.
“--I like Getou and I need your help.”
“Listen, I’m sorry but I just don’t see you that way–”
He blinks, wondering if he heard you right or if he was drunk (he didn’t drink at the party because he was your ride home). “Wait what?”
It was your turn to blink now. “I like Getou and I–”
“I heard you the first time,” he cuts you off hastily, clearing his throat to play it cool. He runs a hand through his hair, grazing the side of his undercut. “Okay wow.”
Gojo mentally curses himself for not knowing what else to say other than humming pensively, busying himself by mixing the ice-cream in the tiny container. He still needs time to process, to mentally upload your words to his brain. You like Getou and not him? He pauses, repeating that thought again. 
You like Getou and not him. Part of him tells himself that this is exactly what he wanted since your friendship wouldn’t go to ruin. You managed not to catch feelings for him–managed not to fall for him like many others. Yet, he’s confused when another part of him doesn’t respond too well once he realizes that this was you he was dealing with.
“That’s not weird right?” You question, bringing your knees up to your chest and propping your chin atop of them to watch his reaction–reminding him to keep it cool. 
“Nah it’s not weird at all,” he said, not thinking straight when his next words escaped his lips. “So why Suguru?” And not me? Though, he keeps that last part to himself. 
“Well isn’t it obvious? He’s tall, handsome, and has a good personality.”
Am I not that? He asks himself, not bothered by how stuck up he may seem. “That’s not very specific from someone who likes him.”
You huff and he can tell you’re narrowing your eyes at him. “I know you don’t wanna hear me yap about the specifics, Satoru.”
“I do.” He says quickly.
You make a noise of surprise, looking interested in his sudden intrigue. “Well okay… Suguru’s very caring and attentive. Being around him makes me feel warm inside you know? I’m not sure when I started liking him but I just know that I just really want to be closer to him. And it doesn’t help that he’s just so smart and nice. And his looks are just a bonus.”
“Oh,” he utters, not even bothering to curse himself for his lack of response. He tries a weak smile. “You must really like him.”
Gojo can’t help but furrow his brows at the semi-embarrassed expression you wear—as if you were flustered at the mere thought of having a crush. “Oh, was I that obvious?” You ask, not even bothering to deny the fact that you were undoubtedly head over heels for his best friend.
Oh god, he thinks he might be sick and he doesn’t know why. 
“Are you going to help me?” Your voice cuts him out of his reverie and he’s cut back into reality–the reality being the anticipation in your eyes. Did you always look this pretty? 
Gojo nearly flinches at the thoughts that cross his mind, blaming the unprocessed shock for being the cause of these obscure ideas. He coughs. “Hold on. So you don’t like me right?”
“What? No I–” your eyes widen in understanding. “Oh so that’s what that was all about. You thought the person I liked was you! How cocky can you be to think everyone’s in love with you?”
“It’s not cocky if it’s true. I’m just really lovable y’know?”
You let out a sarcastic laugh. “That can’t be true since I’m not everyone.”
I know, he thinks to himself, staying silent as he watches you shuffle in your seat. He didn’t just dislike this idea you proposed, he hated it.  It wasn’t hard to just decline and keep it like that–let you figure your feelings on your own. 
Yet, something about the near-pleading look in your eyes made him reconsider and it filled him with an urge to smooth the wrinkles on your expression. He sighs loudly, rubbing the invisible crease in between his brows. “Well I guess you came to the right person because I’m an expert at this. 5 star ratings and all that. But what makes you think I’m going to do this for free?”
“Uh the goodness of your heart?”
“Cute,” he laughs. “But no. I want a coffee from the place everyday for a month.”
“What?! Are you insane? That means I’d have to wake up early everyday to get in line!” 
He shakes his head, waving his finger around with a disappointed expression. “A small price for love.”
“I don’t understand why you even need me for that. You can buy the whole shop yourself, ass,” you whisper the last part behind your palm, making his eyes light up in amusement.
“What was that?”
“Nothing. Actually you know what? Fine,” you huff. “You’re right. It is a small price for love. But I’m not walking back and forth around campus to deliver your coffee.” 
“I got that covered,” he grins, already coming up with a plan in his head. He likes this, the banter you two typically enjoyed. It made your duo, a duo. In a normal situation, he’d relax and continue bothering you. Still, the feeling of dread gnaws at his throat and he tries to swallow it–tries to ignore it by pretending to be the same, goofy Gojo you’re used to. And he’s starting to think it’s hard to do that when you look up at him with such genuine gratitude. 
“Satoru.”
“Hm?”
“Thank you, I mean it.”
Gojo feels that emotion again, that visceral feeling where he might go sick and vomit all over the car. “Yeah.”
He thinks he would’ve preferred if you confessed to him instead. 
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Gojo wonders if stress (if you can call that) is enough to make someone wake up with a hangover the next day. He didn’t drink last night but he thinks he might have–considering the headache that was interrupting his morning. 
He’s in the middle of downing a glass of water when his phone buzzes, your name popping up as a notification. 
(Name): i’m gonna get ur coffee pls come 
Him: come ??? cum
(Name): it’s too early to be doing this 
He sees the bubbles appear before they disappear for a while, only popping up again when he’s in the middle of cracking an egg over the pan 
(Name): SATORU 
(Name): OHMYGOD SATORY SOI SOS 
Him: WHAT 
Him: HELLO??? 
(Name): GETOUS HERE OMG IM GONNA 
(Name): HE SAID HI TO ME 
(Name): WHAT DO I DO?
Gojo grips his phone a bit tighter, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. He sighs.
Him: say hi back 
Him: and then go PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE
(Name): no wtf and i meant what do i after this silly 
(Name): i don’t know what to do im literally an npc rn
(Name): jk he just said bye :(
Him: should’ve done what i told u to do
Another name pops up from the top and his eyes scan the name, his brows raising in curiosity. He huffs at the message, feeling a wave of nausea cross him.
Suguru: You’re close friends with (Name) right?
Him: yeah why 
Suguru: Nothing
It’s silent for a few seconds and Gojo’s back to eating his eggs, tempted to pop a Tylenol to ease the growing headache. Contrary to popular belief, he was against the reliance of pain-relieving meds, opting to let his body figure things out on its own. Luckily for him, having food in his stomach was enough to relieve the headache.
His mind wanders back to the night in the car where you told him to help you with your crush on his best friend–not fully coming to terms with the fact that he wished you liked him instead. Since when did he start feeling this way and why did he need another man to make him realize he liked or even loved you? The thought of anyone having you for themselves was like hearing the sound of nails against a chalkboard and he was jealous. He finally admitted it. 
Gojo Satoru wasn’t an idiot when it came to his feelings and he’d be a fool if he kept denying his undeniable irritation that came with your crush for Suguru. He places the unwashed dish atop some other bowls and utensils, reminding himself to get to that later since his priority was not to keep you waiting at the coffee shop. 
Another buzz and Satoru nearly trips over his feet at the dread he gets from seeing his best friend’s message. Are you kidding me? He thinks to himself as he reads the message again. 
Suguru: She’s cute
Yeah, he thinks he might be sick again.
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Music’s playing in the background to substitute the sound of chatter that’d usually fill the room if Shoko were here. It wasn’t rare for Shoko to not flake on parties and it was even rarer for you to leave your comfort zone and go to one–especially the last one hosted by Sukuna; but this one was different. Suguru was the host and you’d be an idiot to miss it. 
You flinch at the feeling of your mascara poking the inside of your eye, cursing quietly as you take a q-tip to fix the mistake. 
The buzz of your phone makes you freeze.
Gojo: omw to ur house 
Gojo: ill be there in 10 
You: wait satoru don’t get mad but what do i wear 
Gojo: …
Gojo: YOU DIDNT LIKE THINK ABOUT THAT AN HR AGO?
You: I WANNA STAND OUT TO ATTRACT THE LOML OKAY? 
You: so i need ur opinion 
Gojo: dude
Gojo: ok
Gojo: just wear whatever u want it’ll be fine 
You: yeah but what specifically?
Gojo: not smth that makes you look like a grandma 
Gojo: like that dress u wore to the last party 
Gojo: no offense
You: but i liked that dress :(((( 
You: was it that bad?? I mean i had to throw it out bc of the vomit anyways
Gojo: it made u look like a grandma but in a good way 
You: wow okay thanks
Gojo: you looked nice 
Gojo: ANYWAYS  
Gojo: a pair of jeans 
Gojo: and that light blue long sleeve that shows ur shoulders 
You: really? 
Gojo: yeah and i’m leaving my apartment now so hurry up 
You like the message, tapping your lips to even out the lip tint before you rush to put on the shirt and jeans. Doing a quick double-take in the mirror, you spin once and prop your hands on your hips, snapping a few selfies to commemorate this day. 
You’re not sure how much time passes until you hear excessive honking outside, the sound of your phone buzzing as you see Gojo’s caller id. It’s enough to make your eyes roll as you grab your bag–leaving the door locked and the lights off. 
Gojo’s grin is boyish and teasing as his eyes scan you from top to bottom. “Oh look at you,” he coos. “You’re actually wearing what I told you to wear.”
“Well I felt like listening today,” you murmur, feeling a small ripple of embarrassment pass you. 
“Atta girl.”
“Shut up,” you mumble, feeling a grin form when you hear him chuckle. He puts his car into reverse mode, propping his arm on the top of your seat. Up close, you can get a stronger whiff of his cologne–its musk and earthiness slowing your heartbeat, calming you. Your eyes scan his outfit: a black pullover layered atop white t-shirt, paired with a pair of pants that were on the edge of being joggers and trousers.
On anyone else, the outfit wouldn’t have done them good like it did with Gojo. To your displeasure and awe, he looked effortlessly classy. And if he noticed your lingering gaze, he didn’t mention it. 
“What’s your game plan?” His voice draws you back to reality and you watch as he sets the car back into drive mode. 
“Game plan?”
“That’s right,” he glances at you, his shades sliding lower on his nose bridge. “Your plan to seduce the love of your life.”
“I’m not going to seduce him!” You gape, narrowing your eyes at his widening smile. His hand reaches down to turn the volume of the song a bit louder, stopping at the upcoming red light. 
“I’m just joking with you,” he laughs, his eyebrows furrowing slightly before that smile returns to his face, not quite meeting his eyes like it usually does. He sighs before breaking into a laugh that almost sounds bitter. “I’d pay to see that though.”
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At the party, you’d imagine yourself “mingling” with the crowd and letting loose–being the life of the party. Unfortunately for you, your feet are still stuck on the kitchen floor and you’re glued to Gojo’s side. You’d like to blame it on the vomit incident from Sukuna’s party and you’re fortunate enough to not be known as the “girl that someone threw up on.” 
Either way, you weren’t especially fond of the fact that you were keeping Gojo from having fun somewhere else. Like in one of the unoccupied rooms upstairs or in the living room playing some drinking games. It’s enough to make you feel somewhat guilty and suddenly regretful that you even came to this party. 
You tap his shoulder in the kitchen, offering him a reassuring smile. “Satoru. You don’t have to stay with me. I can manage myself!” 
“That’s what you said last time,” he chuckles, rummaging through Getou’s fridge to search for something sweet, frowning when he sees traditional Japanese snacks that his grandparents would eat. “What the hell?” He murmurs to himself.
“I mean it,” you say, taking a few steps back. “You have some fun. I don’t want to bother you too much.”
“You’re not–”
“Satoru. (Name),” a velvety voice greets, all too familiar. A warmth spreads over you. “You made it.”
“Getou,” you murmured to yourself, glancing at Gojo who was already staring at you. 
For a second, you see a subtle tick in his jaw, a sight you blame on the lighting since he’s back to normal the moment he turns to face Getou. He grins that teasing smile of his. “Suguru.”
“You looking through my fridge again, Satoru?” The brunette huffs, kicking the fridge’s door shut lightly–exchanging the grin with his friend. Your heart squeezes as he casts a lingering look at you, his smile polite. “Hey (Name). Good seeing you here.”
“Huh?” You perk up. “Oh you too?”
You inwardly curse at yourself for how awkward you were, giving Gojo a scathing look as he hides his laughter behind his palm. Luckily for you, Getou’s sweet and he was also good at redirecting topics. “You want something to drink?” 
“Oh sure,” you blink, offering a thankful smile. “Thank you Getou–”
“Suguru.” 
You pause, cocking your head to the side in confusion. “Sorry?” 
“Call me Suguru,” he hands you a red, plastic cup–his smile pretty enough to make your breath hitch. “We’ve known each other long enough.”
You feel your heart race as he looks at you expectantly, as if you knew what he wanted you to do next. You fidget, suddenly more bashful at the attention he was giving you. “Thank you Suguru.”
“No problem,” he smiles and you like how he looks satisfied with you. He hands another red cup to Satoru who stood beside you, the sarcastic grin of his returning. You take a tentative sip of the booze, watching curiously as Satoru and Suguru talked amongst themselves–reconnecting despite seeing each other only a day ago. 
You observe the two of them, mapping the details of Suguru’s face before your eyes land on Satoru–suddenly aware of the fact that the boy you spent most of your youth with grew up. Sure, you know that his face attracts attention from everyone but that was a token from childhood. It just didn’t hit you that he matured, grew up to be the man most would dream of dating. The realization is to make you wonder if Gojo ever registered the fact that you were growing too.
Slowly, you take another sip of your drink, blinking slowly as the alcohol settles in your system. Gojo’s the first to notice when you stumble, how your skin seems to heat up. “Hey hey,” he holds you by the shoulders, his voice soft. And if you paid closer attention, you would’ve seen the way Getou’s brows raised at how gentle his friend was acting towards you. “You okay?” 
Amidst your drunken state, you realize that Gojo didn’t bother drinking any of the liquor in his cup during his conversation with Suguru. And Suguru. Sweet Suguru who puts the pieces together and confirms that you’re a lightweight, the guilt evident in his expression. “Oh shit. I forgot how strong this liquor is.” 
“I’m okay,” you mumble and step forward, ready to excuse yourself to the restroom. Gojo looks like he’s about to say something until a group of unfamiliar faces barge into the kitchen, their faces bright as they greet Getou and Gojo with intentions to keep them occupied. Among the chatter and crowd, you find it easy to slip away–rushing to find a restroom. 
The first one you went in was already used by a couple that you remembered mumbling apologies to. The others were either locked or used. At some point, your gut told you to go upstairs and you staggered into an unoccupied bathroom where you splashed cold water on your face–sighing at how nice it felt against your skin.
The music’s only a fraction of its noise from up here and you’re surprised that there’s not much of a group upstairs. There’s a funny feeling in your stomach as you crouch slightly, mentally cursing yourself for downing the whole cup so quickly, ruining your chances to talk with Suguru–coherently at least. Part of you wants to sulk over your spoiled opportunities but another part of you just wants to crash on the tiled floor and sleep–rest your eyes for a bit. 
You’re thankful your mind was still conscious enough to rationalize the unsanitary conditions of the bathroom floor, opting to curl up in one of the hallways instead–shivering at the feeling of cold marble beneath you. Your eyes droop, a yawn escaping you. And you’re almost certain you would’ve fallen asleep if not for the gentle shaking of your shoulders. 
“Stop,” you whine softly, your vision blurry as you catch a glimpse of hair the color of snow and a pair of worried filled blue eyes. Your protests turn quickly to bemusement. “Satoru? What are you doing here?”
You think he smiles as he kneels down on one knee to be eye level with you. “How about I get you off the ground first?” 
“I don’t wanna. Let me sleep here,” you shake your head, ignoring how your body felt warm at how softly he treated you. 
“C’mon,” he chuckles. “The ground’s dirty. Let's get you to a bed at least.”
In your drunken state, your mind still decides it favors a soft comforter over cold marble and you see his eyes soften when you go limp in his arms–letting him lift you from the ground. “Good girl.”
Your mind goes fuzzy at the sound of that and you’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or something else that makes your temperature rise. In that simple moment, you let his arms wrap around you, cradling you to his chest as he makes his way downstairs. All your thoughts stop as your eyes close, drowning the sound of the party out as you permit sleep to take over. His hands give your thighs an occasional squeeze, the gesture oddly intimate yet you don’t bother questioning it or objecting to it. 
Even with the veil of sleep dropping on your form, you still recognize Suguru’s voice as he tells Satoru to take care of you, his tone apologetic–having been the one to give you the liquor. They talk for a bit and once more, you feel the bounce of each step as he carries you out the house.
You’re barely awake when Gojo puts you in the passenger seat and you feel disappointment wash over you when he stops holding you. You’re not sure when you grabbed onto the sleeve of his shirt, your eyes half-lidded as you peered up at him. “Don’t go.”
A noise of protest escapes your lips when he removes your cold hand from his shirt gently, rather taking it in between his warmer ones. “I won’t.”
“Satoru.”
“Hm?”
“I like when you compliment me.”
“Oh yeah?” He says, laughing a bit. “It’s hard not to.”
The music and cheers in Suguru’s house are still audible even in Gojo’s car, your vision getting darker and darker with each blink. Still, you can still feel Gojo’s hand gripping yours–his thumb rubbing circles on the skin as you invite sleep back in, taking deep breaths as you breathe in his cologne. 
And as sleep came to life, you allowed the dreams to live as well. 
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Was there such a thing as a relationship between dreams and memories? In moments of delirium, you can’t single out what’s real and what’s not–was it a dream or did it actually happen?
But now that days have passed and you’ve given yourself more time, you’re certain that Gojo was the one who carried you out of the house and spent his night caring for you. So you ruled out the possibility that the night was a dream, rather a memory that made you feel soft inside–grateful yet unsure. And if you wanted to ponder harder, you would’ve done so if not for the hell you were experiencing this week. 
Forgetting the content during a quiz. Getting yelled at by your boss. Having stepped in bird shit. Waking up late nearly every day because you’d forget to put your alarm on. 
If that wasn’t enough, you got in an argument with your parents over the phone. It was about something stupid and you were so frustrated that you ended up walking to some 7/11–buying yourself an ice-cream to cheer yourself up. The argument was so dumb and you weren’t even sure what you guys were even arguing about. All you knew that you should probably call them later to talk it out; you also knew that this week couldn’t get any worse.
What was Satoru doing right now? You think to yourself, pulling out your phone to check your messages–frowning when you saw none from him. Your eyes land on a message from Suguru, seeing the link he sent you to some video he found funny or intriguing. After the party, you were shocked to see an unknown number texting you, claiming it was Suguru and that Satoru gave your number to him. The day that happened, you texted him using exclamation marks and thanked him–smiling at your phone as you two exchanged witty messages with one another. 
You sighed, unlocking your phone and clicking Satoru’s contact and phoning him. You almost hang up after several rings but you hear his voice after the nth ring. “Hello?”
“Satoru?” You say, your voice cracking the second your lips part to speak. You weren’t expecting to cry and neither did Satoru–though you can hear the concern laced in his voice as he questions your whereabouts. 
“Where are you sweetheart?” You hear rustling in the background amidst his voice and your sniffles. “I’ll pick you up. Your location’s shared with me right?”
“Mhm,” you wipe your eyes, fidgeting with the hem of your hoodie. 
“Okay just stay there and don’t go anywhere. I’ll be there in a few. Don’t cry (Name).”
You think you might cry harder with how sweet his voice was. 
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Satoru thinks he might be the only one who notices the rift between you and him. And he’s not sure if he’s the one causing it or if it’s you. But after that night with you (in his car again), he’s been thinking about how soft you were in his arms; how he liked the way your head drooped against his chest. Or maybe he likes you but he’s not going to think about that unless he wants another headache. 
Regardless, he finds himself looking at his phone sporadically, subconsciously eager to see your name pop up unexpectedly–eager for things to go back to normal. Even though you two still speak, he’s almost sure that he’s not imagining the awkward tension in the air. 
Was he too intrusive when he carried you out to his car? Were you mad at him because he didn’t leave Suguru and you alone in the kitchen? It was a selfish thing to do, he admits. His original idea was to leave you alone with Suguru so you’d get to chat with him–get to know him like you intended to do at the party; but seeing Suguru give you that sly smile of his was enough to make Gojo ditch his plans of playing Cupid. 
If Gojo was a good man, he’d feel happy that you were getting what you wanted since he knew you weren’t the only one interested. Like with the message Suguru sent to Satoru and how he eyed you at the party; how he called Satoru over for a bit and told him that he understood why people liked you or found you attractive; how he commented on how the shirt you wore suited you. 
No shit, I picked it, he thought to himself as he recalled that night. Satoru always knew you were beautiful and he hated that everyone else knew too. You weren’t even his yet but he didn’t want to share you–to let anyone else hold you or have you. Seeing you blush and smile shyly at his best friend made him want to puke—made him want to claw his eyes out. That should be him and god he wishes it was.
He was selfish yet he never promised to be good. Yet, this was for you. He wanted you to be happy, is what he told himself whenever he saw you and Suguru talking. 
His phone buzzes and it’s almost embarrassing how quickly he snatches it, the anticipation in his eyes fading when he sees that it’s Suguru messaging him about the party today. Satoru sighs, rubbing the spot between his brows as he leans on the kitchen counter, suddenly reminded that he planned a party at his place today. It was an impulsive decision to forget about the tension between you two and Satoru’s kinda wishing he took the time to talk it out with you rather than planning something else. 
He invited a good amount of people and was going to invite you as well to give him a reason to call you. But lucky for him, you made things easier for him by calling him. Satoru thinks it’s not healthy for his blood temperature to rise just at the sight of your name on his phone and he’s already grinning when he picks up. “Hello?”
“Satoru?” 
Oh. He pauses, his brows furrowing at how your voice cracked as you tried to hide your sniffles. His first thought was to wonder who made you sad and he thinks it’s scary how hearing you cry was enough to send his emotions in a frenzy. But you needed him and he didn’t want you to be alone. “Where are you sweetheart?” He asks, the nickname flowing off his tongue before he can stop. “I’ll pick you up. Your location’s shared with me right?”
“Mhm,” You mumbled back and his heart nearly snapped in two with how dejected you sounded. He frowns, grabbing his jacket and his keys–rushing to slip on his sneakers. 
“Okay just stay there and don’t go anywhere. I’ll be there in a few. Don’t cry (Name).”
You make a sound of understanding and he hangs up, his finger tapping to click on Suguru’s contact. Satoru hears other familiar voices in the background but he doesn’t pay much attention to it. 
“What’s up Satoru–?”
“Party’s off.”
“What? Wait what are you–”
“Sorry something came up. I’ll tell you later,” he says, hanging up before his friend can say anything else. He knows he should feel bad for flaking out last minute but his list of priorities had you at the top of it. And he really didn’t care if anyone else would understand. 
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You’re regretting the choice of shorts in the chilly night air and the ice-cream you ate wasn’t helping you shiver any less. 
The way Satoru sounded made that warm, fuzzy feeling settle in your stomach again. He sounded like he would drop whatever he was doing just to get to you and it made you feel special. You think back to the sound of “sweetheart” from his lips, shaking your head when you feel your blood get warm.
“(Name)?” Satoru’s voice startles you from your thoughts and you think the sound of it could erase all your troubles. “You alright?” He asks, shrugging the jacket off his shoulders and draping them over your legs, kneeling down to see your face.
You only nod. “I want to go home.”
“Yeah I can take you back–”
“No,” you shake your head. “Back to your place.”
For a moment, you’ve stunned him but that surprise left as fast as it arrived. He sighs, tapping your knee with his finger. “Usually dinner comes first–”
“Not like that you idiot,” you kick him lightly, a grin forming on your lips. “Your methods of comforting are weird.”
“Yeah?” He laughs, the sound blending with the wind. “Well maybe I’m not trying to comfort you,” he eyes you with a teasing glint in his eyes and flashes a lopsided grin. He looked almost sweet as he did sly, the blend making your heart pick up in pace. 
You squirm, mustering a tone of nonchalance. “I changed my mind. I’m going back to my place.”
This time he chuckles, his eyes narrowing in amusement. “Nuh uh. It’s my job to wipe that frown off your face,” he says, the corny phrase making you roll your eyes. “C’mon, I’ll be good to you.”
You pretend to think, ignoring the attentive expression he wore. “Fine. I guess I’ll let you take me home.”
“That’s my girl,” he grinned, standing up to his full height. You beam at him, matching his steps as you two reach his door. By the time the two of you were settled at his place, you already spoke to your parents in private–clearing up the misunderstandings like Satoru reminded you to do. You were glad you had him and even more glad that things were falling back to place. 
Your eyes scan your surroundings, noticing how he must’ve tidied things up. “Did you clean your place?”
“Hm?” He grabs two mugs from the cabinet. “Oh yeah. I was going to have a party here.”
“Today?”
“That’s right,” he drawls, glancing at you from the corner of his eyes. “I was going to call you to see if you wanted to go.”
“Really?” That was a shock to you. “Are you still gonna have one today?”
“Nah. Canceled it last minute.”
You pause, raising your brows as you try not to jump to conclusions. “Why’d you cancel it?”
“Had better things to do. I'd rather hang out with you anyways,” he says casually, smiling when he finds the packets of hot cocoa. “Found it!”
Did he cancel the party for me? You think to yourself, a bit surprised that you came to that conclusion; but if you were right and he did, you wouldn’t know what to feel other than appreciation and maybe something else. Whether that was true or not, you know that you should be feeling guilt and not giddiness from having him prioritize you. Was it normal to feel this way for Satoru? You’re about to let your thoughts fill your head but you feel your breath hitch at how he seems to lean closer to you. 
His hands move you by the hips, the touch barely lasting five seconds. “Sorry I gotta get the spoons,” he murmurs, paying no mind to how you hold your breath. Your eyes fall to his biceps, swallowing a gasp as you see how the black material of his shirt moved with every movement he makes. There was no way he was human when he looked like that.
Oh my god, you think to yourself, suddenly mortified at the fact that you were checking him out. What was wrong with you right now? You always knew Gojo was attractive but you didn’t think he was this attractive. And if he had any idea of your internal conflict he didn’t pay it any mind. 
“Can you go get the movie ready for me?”
“Uh huh,” you nod immediately, quickening your pace as you try to distract yourself. By the time he sits next to you, the blankets and snacks are already placed neatly on the living room table. You smile and mutter a thank you when he hands you the mug of hot cocoa. 
“Feel better?” He asks, propping an arm on the head of the couch once you’re halfway through the movie: a random romcom you picked to cheer you up. Even as someone who claims he’d rather watch a movie with more action, you think the drama that comes with romcoms intrigues him–much more than he’d like to admit. 
You take a sip of your drink, your eyes flitting to him. “Much better.”
“I bet,” he murmurs, his eyes glancing at the way your knees touched. The scene panels to a teary confession the female lead does, the music dramatic with strings in the background. You watch intently, observing the expressions both characters make on screen.
“Y’know, I never understood how they can always come up with a speech like that on the spot,” Satoru comments, plopping a few gummy bears in his mouth. “Isn’t that unrealistic?”
“It’s a movie,” you point out, watching as the male lead hung onto every word the female lead had to say. “It’s not supposed to be realistic.”
“I guess you’re right. But that stuff apparently happens in real life right?”
“Wouldn’t you know? You have people confessing to you all the time.”
“I don’t give them much time to continue speaking,” he shrugs. 
You don’t like how uneasy you feel after he says that. “Well, maybe it’s love that makes this kind of stuff happen.”
This earns you an amused snicker. “Of course you’d say that. You gonna do that with Suguru? Confess to him from the bottom of your heart?”
You roll your eyes. “To do that, I’d have to be in love with him.”
“Are you?”
“No,” you give him an incredulous look. “I hardly know the guy. I just really like him.”
He makes a sound of understanding but you feel as if you’re deluding yourself when you see the look of relief cross his face. You turn to him, the movie forgotten all of a sudden. “Would you do that?”
“What? Confess to Suguru with the bottom of my heart?” 
“Yeah sure. That’s what I meant.” you huff, seeing his teasing grin form. You sigh. “No like…confess to someone you love.”
He’s quiet, the faraway look in his eyes confirming that he’s deep in thought. You’re not sure why a pang of irritation hits you when you realize that there might be someone Satoru’s in love with. And you’re not sure if it’s because he’s not telling you or because you want to be that someone. You go with the former because you’re supposed to like Suguru. 
His eyes wander to meet yours and the tick in his jaw makes you nervous–makes your palms sweaty because he’s never looked at you like that. You’re not even sure words could describe what emotion he had on his face. He smiles–not the smile that’s crooked and boyish. It’s the smile that’s sharp and makes his eyes narrow. “I might.”
“You might?” You ask, hating how breathless your voice sounded to your ears–something that he notices with the way amusement practically glimmers in his eyes. You swallow a gasp when his gaze falls to your lips, quickly flying back to your eyes. 
“Maybe,” he whispers and you can’t help but wet your lips, feeling faint when the bright blue of his eyes darkens to black. You don’t flinch when his head tilts, his arm coming to the side to trap you between the couch. His cologne overwhelms you, makes you drunk on him. He’s so close that you can feel his breath hit your face. 
“Satoru–” 
The sound of your phone buzzing crushes the tension quickly and you let him lean back–looking as if he had more to say. You feel a smidge of disappointment as you grab your phone. “It’s Suguru,” you say and you’re not sure why your inner voice begs Satoru to tell you to ignore the phone call–to act like he cares more. 
“Shouldn’t you answer it?” He questions and you hate that sinking feeling in your stomach when he doesn’t even spare a glance at you–as if acting like he wasn’t about to kiss you seconds ago. You can only frown, nodding as you watch him stand up–still not offering you one single look. “I’ll clean up.”
As you glance at your phone, at the name of Suguru appearing on your screen, you hope for the slightest bit of joy–that lovesick feeling you get whenever you’d see him. Yet, it felt wrong. This felt wrong. And apparently, Suguru could tell from your voice that there was something bugging you. 
“Is everything alright? You don’t sound too good.”
Your eyes linger on Satoru’s figure moving to the kitchen. You think Suguru mentions something about a date but you don’t pay much attention, not feeling all that bad as you drown out his voice. “Yeah. I’m fine. What were you saying?”
“I was asking if you wanted to go to dinner with me tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at 7 and we can–”
“Sure,” you say, trying to ignore the way your body lurches at your response–as if it didn’t want this. “Sure. I’ll see you at 7.”
You don’t catch what he says when he hangs up, only thinking of how Satoru looked at you when he was leaning closer. The thought doesn’t horrify you as much as it should but you think that if he had kissed you, you probably would’ve kissed him back. 
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If someone told you a month ago that you were going on a date with Suguru, you would’ve cried tears of joy and celebrated. But now, you’re almost undeniably feeling a wave of indifference hit you and it feels awful. Suguru’s perfect–his sharp features and his charming smile that’d send anyone into a frenzied mess. Or maybe most tend to fixate on how suave he is with his words–mixing the subtlest of flirtations with simple compliments.
He’s everything you could’ve asked for. Yet, you find yourself missing the ruthless beauty you saw in Satoru–the striking blue of his eyes and the rare color of his hair. You find yourself missing the rasp of his voice, how it’d soften that night when he comforted you; you find yourself missing his warm and strong embrace as he took care of you in your inebriated state; you find yourself missing how close he was that night on his couch and how he looked at you. 
At some point, you found yourself replaying that scene over and over again. The first few times, you were giddy with hormones as you imagined him leaning closer and kissing you. After a while, you wanted the image gone because it didn’t happen. He pulled away. He let you pick up the call from Suguru. He acted like nothing happened when in reality, a lot did happen. You two were finally breaching the line of friends and he knew that. 
So why? That question plagued your mind for days after and every time you think you forgot about it, the memory of him would remind you all over again. And when he only congratulated you when you told him about your date with Suguru you felt betrayed. Why don’t you care? You almost blurted out but technically he did care. After all, he was the one who was trying to set you guys up so why did you suddenly want to change your mind?
You think you might hate him a little for being so good at acting like everything’s normal and you think you might hate more for making your heart beat so fast. Things weren’t supposed to end up like this. You weren’t supposed to imagine your best friend kissing you breathless or taking you on a date. 
Everything’s going to fall into place, you tell yourself. You’ve already dolled up and were in the middle of spraying your perfume when Getou messaged you that he was already here. He’s relaxed in the car as you enter the car. This scene feels the same, you think to yourself, recalling the way Gojo greeted you the last time he picked you up.
“You’re wearing the shirt you wore to the party,” Getou points out and you look down at your shirt, gaping at the revelation that you’re wearing the same top Gojo told you to wear. Even with the company of another man, your subconscious still wishes he was here. 
“I didn’t even notice,” you mumble, smiling at the brown-haired male as he drives. The small talk is all natural as you two make your way to the restaurant and you’re grateful that Suguru’s such an easy person to talk with. He’s nice. Really nice and you feel almost guilty for not being as enthusiastic as you wanted to be. 
It’s only when you’re midway through the meal that he mentions it. “You’re not here.”
“What?”
“Here,” he shrugs, glancing at you with an empty smile. “You’re thinking about something else aren’t you?”
“I’m not–”
“Don’t worry I’m not mad,” he says and you know he’s telling the truth. “I’m curious. What are you thinking about?”
This makes you squirm in discomfort, a bit uneasy at how perfectly he read you. Satoru’s always made comments about Getou’s intuitive feeling for emotions and you’re starting to think he wasn’t exaggerating. “What if I don’t wanna tell you?” You joke.
“Then you’d leave me to assume,” he answers easily, the corner of his lips curling upwards. “I’m not an idiot (Name). I know when a lady’s thinking about someone else in my presence.”
When you try to protest, he only smiles. “Is it Satoru?”
Your silence is enough said. You want to deny him–want to shake your head and utter a firm “no.” But something about the question makes you lose your sense of thought and Suguru understands that too. “Are you in love with him?”
This catches your attention. “No. I like you not him.”
“Aren’t we well past the point of lying now?” He gives a good-natured chuckle. “If you liked me then you wouldn’t have looked at your phone so many times as if you were expecting a call.”
You widen your eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to–”
“Nah I’m really not mad,” he sighs. “But I’m interested in why you didn’t decline my offer for a date.”
You’re silent for a while, musing over his words. “When you called me, Satoru and I were about to kiss. Or well–at least I think we were about to kiss.
“So why’d you pick it up? I know Satoru enough to know that a call from me isn’t enough to make him stop with whatever he’s doing,” he raises a brow and you catch a roll of his eyes as he remembers something. 
“It’s because he was the one who was setting us up together.”
Suguru makes a sound of confusion, nodding at you to continue. You take a big breath. “I asked Satoru to help me get with you.”
Getou makes a “o’ with his mouth, nodding in consideration as he processes your words. His pity makes you feel small and you’re finally experiencing the impact tenfold. “Oh (Name).”
“Yeah,” you shrug. “So now I’m pretty sure I messed up the friendship because I was stupid and he’s never gonna like me back–”
“That’s not true,” he stops you, taking a sip from his wine. “Satoru’s different around you.”
“Well that’s because I’ve known him for a while now.”
“Maybe. But he doesn’t go out of his way to help people like he does with you. Even an idiot could notice that.”
“That doesn’t mean he likes me back–”
“You don’t know that yet,” he retorts, that smile of his returning again. “Just like I didn’t know you were in love with my best friend the entire time.”
You wince, swallowing as you peer up at him. You know he didn’t intend for the comment to burn but a small part of you thinks he did it on purpose. The sight of you sulking brings a wider grin to play on his face. “Relax. I’m only playing with you,” he pauses. “I’m a bit jealous that Satoru's got such a cute girl in love with him though.” 
His teasing makes you laugh. “What if he doesn’t love her back?”
“Then he’d be an idiot,” he says, giving you a look as he asks for the bill. “If he breaks your heart you know who to go to. I’d be happy to have you for myself.”
You roll your eyes, smiling softly when he coyly smiles. Suguru was kind enough to offer to drop you off at your place but you told him you wanted to see Satoru—bringing a surprised look on the brown-haired male’s face. You’re not sure how apparent it was, but you reeked of anxiety and Suguru was quick to point it out.
“I’ll wait for you,” he says nonchalantly, shooing you with his hand once you stare at him in bewilderment. “Go. Just do me a favor and message me when you guys are gonna get uh intimate.”
“We’re not—“ you click your tongue at his grin. You thank him, rushing to Satoru’s flat—the sound of your heels clicking against the floor. 
If you were in a movie, there would be dramatic music playing in the background—perhaps orchestra or a sappy love song. The scene was so cliche but you’re understanding why the protagonists always ran: it was love. You were in love with Gojo Satoru. 
You ring his doorbell, fixing your hair as you ready yourself to see him—mentally preparing the script of your confession. Please be home, please be home, please—
The door opens and a plethora of blue looks back at you, the surprise evident in them. You visibly brighten, smiling as you see him. “Satoru I—“
“Satoru?” another voice says from behind him—the voice evidently female. You freeze, feeling as if this image was in slow motion as you see a glimpse of a girl behind Satoru. Your eyes flit to both of them, the speech you prepared in your head drying up like a sore. “Who’s this?”
You hate that you can only watch. “It’s just a friend. Why don’t you go back inside for a bit, yeah?”
She’s so pretty, it hurts. There wasn’t a speck of imperfection on her and the need to curl up in a ball never felt stronger. The girl nods at Satoru, glancing at you in curiosity as she leaves you two alone. 
You think you might hate a little bit for looking at you in concern. “Is there something wrong? Are you okay? If something—“
“No. Nothing’s wrong I’m just—“ you say, wishing your voice was louder at this moment. You avoid his eyes, fearing that you’d end up crying in front of him if you continued to stare at him. “I need to go.” 
“What? But you just got here—“
“I don’t know why I came here. This was a mistake and I—“ you sigh shakily, turning on your heel to leave. 
Satoru grabs you by the wrist, his gaze soft as he shakes his head when he sees you try to pry his hand off of you. “Just tell me what I can do—“
“Suguru’s waiting for me,” you say quickly, ignoring the way his face drops. “He’s outside right now.” 
You hold your breath the moment his hand slowly slips off your wrist, taking a few steps back as you make your way outside. Not once do you turn back as you try your best to hold the tears in—ultimately failing as they fall as quickly as they appear. 
By the time you reach Suguru’s car, your make-up is already ruined. At first, he snaps his head back at you with a smile, the curve of lips quickly disappearing as he sees your lip trembling. “No?”
“No,” you confirm, sitting back into the car and wiping your tears with a tissue he hands you. There’s no words spoken between you two as he starts the car, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. Ironically, you listen to the soundtrack of “The Other Woman” playing in his car and he’s quick to change the song. He clears his throat.
“I didn’t think he was that stupid,” he says after some time, signaling right as he reaches the stop light. 
“He wasn’t,” you murmur. “I was the stupid one for thinking that we could be more than friends.”
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After the ordeal a couple nights ago, you’re not even ashamed that you’re blatantly avoiding Gojo like the plague. You even turned off your read receipts for him which you would’ve found so petty if you didn’t feel so frantic at the sound of his name. Originally, you thought he’d put up more of a fight and be more persistent in getting your attention–only you were proven wrong when you didn’t see any of his attempts increasing. 
Disappointed, you were caught in a dilemma. You wanted this distance but craved his presence. At some point, your thoughts ran dry and you were in a slump. Were you always this bad at making up your mind?  
No. You weren’t. You didn’t think excessively hard when you decided you liked Getou and when you stopped liking him. Nor did you think super hard about your other crushes. Gojo made your brain hurt and if this was love, you’re not sure you really liked it; but it felt so nice to think about how it would feel to be loved by him–to have him kiss you. 
Which is why you thought it was a great idea to avoid him because surely time makes the feelings fade. And you hope they fade fast–especially after you saw him with that girl. You bite back your jealousy at the thought of what they did together. Today was supposed to be a mental health day. It was if fate allowed you to have little to nothing to do and you were going to take advantage of it. 
The coffee house was ambient with the occasional loud laughter from groups of friends. You were halfway through your book, taking a sip from your drink as you flipped the pages. This was what you were meant for: reading novels in a cafe, keeping a low profile, and protecting your peace. 
You’re about midway through the big plot twist until you hear the sound of a chair scraping and your heart freezes in your chest when you see Gojo stare back at you. Only this time, he looks serious and even annoyed. 
“I knew I’d find you here,” he begins, tapping his finger nails on the wooden table. You don’t miss the way a few people take a few double-takes when they walk past him. So much for keeping a low profile. 
“Gojo,” you acknowledge him awkwardly, fidgeting with the pages of your book.
Your stomach does a flip when his jaw twitches and his eyes cross your face. He sighs, leaning back and adjusting his seating position. “Are you mad at me?”
“Why would I be mad at you?”
“You literally just called me Gojo,” he said and if you were more rational, you would’ve laughed at how childish he sounded over you not using his first name. 
“A lot of people call you Gojo,” you point out, still not meeting his eyes. 
“You’re not just ‘a lot of people.’ And you always call me Satoru,” he murmurs. 
You tense up. There he goes again: treating you like you’re special. It makes you confused and makes your heartbeat skip. You clear your throat. “I’m not mad at you.”
“Then why are you avoiding me?” He says, a bit loudly at that. It was unlike Gojo to attract attention to personal matters in public and the guilt hits you. You were so caught up in your own feelings that you completely ignored how he would’ve felt. Even if he only thought of you as a friend, anyone would’ve felt mad if put in the situation you put Gojo in. 
You glance at the curious gazes in the cafe, grabbing him by the hand as you pull him outside to a secluded area. You quickly drop his hand, a bit surprised that he let you even hold it. “What are you talking about?” You ask, not sure why you’re playing dumb. 
“You’re avoiding me,” he says, staring down at you. Sometimes, you forget how tall Satoru really is and how his gaze can make anyone feel small. “Did I do something to make you mad?”
You think back to him and the girl. “No you didn’t do anything.”
“Then what the hell is it?” He says, sounding more mad than you initially thought. His eyes scan over your face–observing your pursed lips and aversion from his eyes. He clicks his tongue. “Is this about the other night?”
You really wish you didn’t snap your head so fast to meet his eyes. The other night could’ve meant many things but you knew he was referring to a specific one. “No,” you say and you already know he doesn’t believe you. 
“(Name),” he says softly. “Were you jealous?” Hearing him saying it out loud makes you cringe. You shake your head adamantly, trying to muster up the courage to not break eye-contact with him. You wonder if he could hear how loud your heartbeat was. “I’m not jealous. Why would I be jealous?”
“You tell me,” he voices in that tone that tells you that he’s already figured it out. For all the years you’ve known Gojo, you’ve become well-acquainted with his habits and his mannerisms. And you knew him well enough to realize that he wasn’t going to stop with the questions until you told him the truth. 
He always did this. Always made sure to pummel the truth out of you and it didn’t matter how dirty he played. “Then why did you go to me in the first place? Didn’t you have Suguru outside waiting for you?”
“I–”
“What was so important about what you wanted to tell me that you left Suguru waiting for you? What was it and why are you so scared that you’re avoiding me?”
“It’s because I like you!” You finally say, knowing that he bested you in this game of his. The regret hits you so hard you feel like running away again. Only this, he doesn’t let you when he pulls you by the shoulder. 
“What?” He says breathlessly, his eyes wide with wonder. It’s over, you think to yourself. He’s going to hate you after this because you ruined the friendship. 
“I avoided you because I like you,” you admit quietly. “And because I saw you with that girl the other night.”
“(Name)...” 
“Stop,” you murmur, feeling the tears form. “Stop. I already know what you’re gonna say, okay? It doesn’t matter anymore.”
You shrug him off, wiping your tears with your sleeve. The plans for “protecting your peace” almost seemed silly now because you couldn’t rewind time and undo all of this. You don’t bother saying goodbye to Gojo as you take your chances in leaving. And you desperately wonder how you were going to move on from this. 
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Gojo thinks he’s in a fever dream. Your confession stunned him into oblivion and if it weren’t for your tears, he thinks he might’ve stayed in one spot for hours on end. The night you came over, Gojo already had enough on his mind. Seeing you in the flesh made him lose the logical side of his brain and his mind just replayed that night you two nearly kissed. 
He remembered being able to taste how nervous you were–how you found purchase on his shoulders as he tried his hardest not to pin you to the couch and kiss you stupid. He remembered how soft you were and how that thought would torture him for days on. 
Gojo knew what he did after was an asshole move but he thought the phone call from Suguru served as a reminder that he couldn’t have you. You two were best friends and to ruin that because he wanted you was selfish of him. He was already selfish enough to want to keep you for himself but you wanted Suguru. 
That’s why when you came to his place, he was confused. Gojo did something stupid and didn’t want the thoughts of you to keep popping up. He recalled dialing the number of some girl he stopped talking to ages ago just to not have you occupy his mind. 
When he saw your brows furrow at the sight of her, he was surprised to say the least. He ruled out the possibility of jealousy early on and just kept it as that. But now, on this chilly afternoon and in some secluded corner, you were confessing to him. 
You like him. You like him back. Sure, you didn’t love him like he loves you (or at least he thinks so) but that's besides the point. He collects himself the moment he sees the tears forming in your eyes, panic coursing through him. 
Did his silence make you misunderstand? Did you know that he was ready to scream and tell the whole world that he finally got the girl of his dreams? How he was prepared to pull you into a crushing hug and hold you like he had heaven in his arms? 
He forgot you weren’t a mind reader and it dawned on him that he caused your tears. He doesn’t want to be the guy who lets misunderstandings marinate nor does he want to be the cause of your fallout. He was going to fix this. 
If you thought he was going to let you go that easily then you severely underestimate him. Because Gojo Satoru was willing to fight for your love.
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You think you’re in some sappy k-drama when he grabs you by the wrist the second time. If you weren’t crying your eyes out, you would’ve laughed at him and he would’ve laughed with you. But there’s only a wave of frustration when he doesn’t let go. “Satoru let me go–”
“No,” he says with a deadpan and you almost think he sounds desperate. You’re about to say something but he only steps closer. “You can’t run away like you did before. That’s the easy way out–”
“I’m not–”
“You are,” he interrupts. “And I’m not gonna let you because you’re gonna listen to what I have to say.”
You’re almost reluctant to stay silent but you give in when he squeezes your wrist–as if begging you to stay. You sigh. “Fine.”
“Good,” he whispers, racking his brain for what to say. He takes a deep breath. “A while back, I said I didn’t understand how the characters from romance movies always knew what to say in moments like these. You know those super long speeches? It seemed unrealistic to me but I think I understand now.”
You let him continue, clinging onto every word that falls from his lips. “It’s so easy to say stuff like this. When you’re in love with someone, you notice the little things about them. I noticed you and you were the only thing on my mind. You still are the only thing on my mind. Do you get what I mean?”
You watch in awe as he continues, stuttering over some of his words which was so rare for him. “The night you told me you liked Suguru I was so annoyed. I’ve never gotten jealous of Suguru or anyone but I wanted to be the one that you liked. I wanted to be the one that you dressed up for and the one you smiled at. It drove me insane when you went on a date with him and I hate that I didn’t just say fuck it and steal you away sooner.”
He takes a chance to catch his breath, ruffling his hair as he finally flashes you a crooked grin–a mix of embarrassed and boyish. “That girl you saw me with…I never did anything with her,” he admits and you think you might fall over from shock. “I couldn’t. I just kept thinking about you and I wanted you on my mind all the time. I didn’t want to think about anyone else and didn’t want anyone to take your place–”
“What I’m trying to say is that I’m in love with you,” he finally says. “I already said that earlier but I want to say it again. I think I’ve always loved you–even when we were kids. I think little kid me always wanted your attention. I just never knew what I felt until I realized that you weren’t mine–not mine to love. And I don’t think there’s nothing in the world that I want more than you.”
At this point, your mouth is already ready to catch flies as you listen to his ramblings about his affections. You think you might cry. Gojo’s usually not good with words but you can tell how genuine he is–how much he meant this. “Then all those times you helped me with Suguru?”
“I hated doing that,” he huffs. “I swear I was about to punch Suguru every time he called you cute.”
You laugh, feeling jittery all over. “Would you?”
“I’m a bit worried that you like that idea a bit too much.”
You grin, shrugging. “Maybe a little. I guess I should tell you that I really wanted you to kiss me when we were on the couch.”
“You did?” He practically beams, cupping your face with his hand. You feel your stomach do twists when his thumb grazes the skin of your cheek softly, as if this was always normal. 
“And I should probably tell you that I love you too,” you say firmly, gaining a rush of confidence. “And you should probably kiss me right now.”
The smile on his face might just be the prettiest thing you’ve seen in the world. He leans in, cupping your face as he presses his lips against yours. The way he holds you makes you feel safe and you think you might love him a little more when he moves his hand to your neck. 
You break the kiss. “Does this mean we’re dating now?”
He laughs. “Do I need to kiss you again for you to say yes?” 
When you nod, he pulls you in again and again. And if this was his way of asking, you’d say yes each time. 
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