#and he’s okay with that because a tiny tiny part of him doesn’t know if they’re happy tears or not…… | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tonycries · 12 days

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Welcome To The Itadori's! - C.K.

Synopsis. Three times Choso really, really wanted to hold you without his family barging in, and the one time he actually does.

Pairing. Best friend! Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, childhood best friends to lovers, slowburn, cameos from the Itadori’s (Yuji, Jin, grandpa, SUKUNA), smút only when they’re adults, first times, oral (female receiving), cúnnilingus, marking, rough, Choso’s a bit mean in bed, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.0k

A/N. The unc-kuna brainrot got me here, Yuji’s family tree is HILARIOUS.

“You’ve never what?”

“I mean, yeah? So what if I’ve never…uh-” eyes darting to the erotic scene on-screen. “M’surely not missing out on that much.”

Maybe he was. Maybe he wasn’t. Whatever the answer was, Choso could only pray that no one walked into your apartment right now.

---

Choso swears his family is well and fully intent on ruining every waking moment with you.

He’s convinced even, at this point. Because in the 13 long years of being inseparable from you - ever since you were both whiney, snot-faced brats - Choso’s racked up more interruptions than he’s seen on those k-dramas that his grandfather swears he doesn’t watch.

It was like some cosmic joke, really. All he wanted was a moment with just the two of you…and maybe a second or two to confess his undying love. But that didn’t seem too realistic when the Itadori’s were a bit of a packaged deal, unfortunately.

Alas, Choso’s resigned himself to accept the fact that maybe - just maybe - this was the universe’s way of telling him that his pretty best friend was indeed too good for him. Something he’s suspected ever since the both of you were eight.

The realization had hit him like a semi-truck back then - five of them, in fact. And a whole zoo of animals afterward.

Of course, it’s not like that was any secret. He always thought you were perfect from the second you’d moved in - that new family next door he’d been eagerly waiting ages to arrive. And Choso, being the dutiful oldest son, was the one to deliver welcome cookies to your doorstep. Stumbling, and carefully trying to reach for the doorbell without dropping any.

“Um, welcome to-”

“Your hair’s funny.”

Now, Choso’s never greeted neighbors before, but it surely wasn’t supposed to go like this. Why was he being insulted by some little girl - you were missing a few teeth, and his had just grown back in so obviously he was much older and wiser. All unapologetic smiles and twinkling eyes as you blink up curiously at his space buns. Pretty, even when you were tearing his heart out because hey, he thought this hairstyle was cool, okay?

Which is what had him huffing and puffing back home, running straight into the arms of his dad while he tried not to cry. That is, until you came knocking at his door with your parents. Very much bawling and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug with wet mumbles of “M’sorry, meant your hair’s very cool. Wanna match-”

And, if his cheeks burned just a bit, well, Choso blamed the tears.

After a disaster like that, of course you’d grow to be best friends within the day.

But what that didn’t explain was when - after hours of bickering over whether to play tag or house - you were all tuckered out and sat beside him in a corner of his room, too exhausted to talk his ear off. Head lolling once. Twice. Falling softly onto his shoulder.

Oh.

Now, Choso might just be having the first epiphany of his entire, grueling eight years in this world - that you were very, very pretty fast asleep with your head on his shoulder.

Why? Why were you here barging into his life and turning it upside down? Calling him your “new best friend” and dragging him along wherever you went. It made his poor head absolutely spin, not daring to move a muscle so that you didn’t wake up and see this tiny predicament.

He didn’t know why. But what he did know was that he found himself subconsciously reaching for your hand, a strange little part of himself wanting to see how much smaller they were than his. They looked so soft and warm and-

“I WANNA PLAY T- Oh.”

Oh indeed. He hastily lurches away from you like it burned, hands raised like he was caught red-handed. Feeling slightly sorry when he sees you blinking away the sleep to take in your surroundings, eyes bouncing off of a very excited Yuji and resting on the clock.

“Oh no. Mommy’s gonna be mad.” you gasp, hastily getting up. And he feels a weird pang as you quickly dust down your dress, running out the door with a laughed out, “Bye, Yuji! See ya later, Cho~!”

“Bye, crybaby.”

And then it’s quiet. Only Choso still staring after you, and Yuji staring at his older brother, somewhat awestruck and wondering only one thing-

“Big bro, why are you so red?”

Choso doesn’t think he’s gotten a moment alone with you since that first initial meeting.

Fourteen was definitely the worst, in his opinion.

“Hey, Cho, y’know the girl sitting next to me in math said she had her first kiss today.”

“Oh.” It’s all Choso can manage to get out, paying more attention than he should to the gravel beneath him as he tries not to trip over air beside you. Hot under his uniform collar at the sudden shift in conversation from the usual after-school banter.

Looping your arm with his, you heave out a playful sigh, “I wonder what that feels like. Have you ever thought about it?”

No, but Choso has never thought that he’d be here - face burning at your body pressed up against his. Just knowing that his ancestors above are laughing at what a loser he is, barely able to stammer out an answer to your question.

Okay, maybe he was being dramatic. Because it wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about kissing before - it’s just that whenever it popped into his mind, you were usually accompanying him. Along with those strange thoughts of whether your lips are as soft as they looked? Or would your heartbeat be as fast as-

“Man, are you even listening?”

Shit.

Your hand waving in front of Choso’s face brings him back to reality. Blinking hastily, he tries to gather his thoughts, mumbling out a quick, “Uh, yeah, sorry. Just lost in thought.” averting his gaze as he feels the heat rise to his cheeks at your intense gaze.

Your smile only widens, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you nudge his side. “Thinking so hard about kissing, huh? Cho, you lecher!”

“Am not.”

“Am to.”

“Am not.”

“Am to.”

“Who were you imagining it with, huh? Gonna give ‘em a big smooch tomorrow?”

God, you were going to be the death of him. “N-no! I haven’t even- shut up, crybaby, it’s not like-” he sputters out useless protests over your laughter - his favorite song, even when you were teasing the hell out of him. But ah how you relish in his embarrassment, tittering out little giggles all the way until you’re steering him onto your lane.

Choso, on the other hand, keeps wishing the ground would swallow him up more and more with each step towards his porch. He’d have broken into a sprint right then if he hadn’t known you and the way you’d race him there instead.

“Alright.” you declare once you’re stood at his front door, jolting Choso out of his reverie. And he’s barely opening his mouth to register your words before you plowing on confidently. “We’ll just have to practice our first kisses with each other.”

Perfect. Great. Wonderful.

The final nail on his coffin. You might as well have planted a bombshell right in the middle of his already-chaotic world with the way he was reeling in- shock? Fear? Anticipation?

“Practice.” Choso whispers, more to himself than you. Yet you nod anyway, eyes locked with his like you were studying his reaction. “For…practice.”

Doubt starts to creep into your pretty features, “Well, we don’t have to if you do-”

“No no no no, I want- ahem.” he cringes at the pathetic desperation in his voice. Desperately trying to scramble back some semblance of sanity as he clears his throat, “I want to. Just-” Choso urgently looks around for- ah, there it is.

Dragging over the brick from the side of his porch because goddammit he might be 14 but he sure hadn’t hit that growth spurt yet. “Practice, right?”

You nod with a fiery determination that, later on, would make Choso chuckle with fondness. Muttering out a firm, “Practice.” Letting the boy in front of you nervously leans closer, breath fanning your face. And shit if you were nervous then you didn’t show it, but Choso felt like he was about to spontaneously combust.

Brows furrowing in concentration, eyes only squinting ever-so-slightly as he takes peaks at how pretty you looked. Close enough that he could count every lash as your pretty eyes closed shut, lips glistening with that strawberry chapstick you loved, puckering adorably. Only inching closer and-

Click!

“You two are so cute! But um- dear, how do you mute this thing?”

You spring apart so fast that Choso wouldn’t be surprised if you’d teleported. He doesn’t even know what’s happening before, from the safety of about three meters away from him, you’re muttering out an embarrassed little, “Hi there, Mr. Itadori. The gardenia are coming along nicely.”

His dad smiles like he hadn’t just starred in what was likely Choso’s villain origin story. Waving happily, “Aww, thank you, sweetheart. Now, why don’t you two go back to doing your lil’ thing and I can ah- practice my photography.”

“Dad, I’m running away.”

That practice kiss never happens. And, well, if there was a proudly framed photo down the hallway of the two of you - with Choso absolutely bright red and standing comically on a brick to meet your height, faces nervously scrunching towards each other - well, neither of you ever mention it. Jin Itadori does, though - every time you come over, in fact.

It’s only when you’re both eighteen, when Choso’s a lot deeper in his feelings - and only slightly less embarrassed about it - that he thinks that maybe not all family interruptions were that bad.

Graduation was…something. Not exactly something that he’s sure if he’ll ever want to relive with the sheer amount of awkward photos and tears that his dad lets out. God if he has to shuffle into another-

“You alright, Cho?”

Ah.

Traitorously, a smile makes its way onto his face, peering down at your beaming face. Both of you having made it way past the awkward early teens. Well, at least you certainly have - Choso still feels like the same awkward little boy with an even more awkward crush. “Hm? Yeah, m’great.”

“Are ya sure? Because you look like you’re about to have an aneurysm any second now.” you raise a brow teasingly. Ah, how gorgeous you were - even when you’re picking him apart.

“Yeah. Great. Only had this smile plastered on for the last five hours.”

“Aww, but you look so pretty smiling.” you shrug, with the audacity of someone that didn’t just have Choso’s knees dangerously weak. “Anyway- A bunch of us are gonna try to convince ol’ Yaga to let us take photos with his shades, you wanna come?”

“You think m’pretty?” he muses, embarrassingly late.

“Cho.”

“Yaga. Shades. Got it.” Choso mock salutes, drinking in the little laugh it startles out of you, eyes sparkling with mischief and looking right into his soul. Beautiful. You were always beautiful.

And Choso can’t just stand around and do nothing about it.

“Crybaby, look, I-” Fists clenching, he takes a steadying breath. The heat only rising to his cheeks at your awaiting gaze, “I…”

“HEY, GRANDPA HELPED STEAL YAGA’S SHADES LET’S TAKE A PIC-”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP ITADORI. YOU’RE RUINING A MOMENT, LET THEM HAVE THEIR MOMENT.”

“I don’t know either of you two.”

It would be a miracle for a moment not to be ruined with two overly-energetic first-years (and a very reluctant Fushiguro) pushing their way into your little bubble. Choso bites back a groan as you’re immediately swarmed by a bickering Kugisaki and Yuji, one apologizing for “ruining your k-drama moment” and the other trying to get you to put on some sunglasses. Well, at least he could empathize with the black-haired boy, who gave him an apologetic nod.

He’s only halfway through waving off the interruption before a voice speaks up from his side. “Why didn’t you say it?”

Whirling around, Choso comes face-to-face with the disappointed look on his grandfather’s face. Already having some idea of what you mean, “Wha-”

“I may be old but m’not deaf, yet, boy. Why didn’t ya tell her?” he sighs, tilting his head to where you were wearing those shades and taking ridiculous pictures with two animated first-years.

“I don’t know what you-”

“M’not blind, either. Quite frankly I’m insulted.”

And, well, if there’s anyone that he can’t hide from - it would be his grandfather. So he heaves out a defeated sigh, touselling his hair while muttering out a pathetic little, “M’not- Ugh, she’s too fuckin’ perfect and I…I chickened out.”

Choso doesn’t know what he expected in response but it definitely wasn’t for his grandfather to laugh. Full, and raspy - loud enough that even you stop to stare. “Thought so, idiot boy.” he chuckles, drawing indignant protests. “Did she tell you?”

Raising a brow, “What?”

“Did she tell you that you weren’t good ‘nough for her?”

“No, but-” Whatever protest on the tip of Choso’s tongue is cut off by a rough hand smacking his back in what he thinks is reassurance, but felt more like a punishment for being such a pussy around you all these years.

“Then go. Ya might just be surprised. After all, you’re my grandson, and all the ladies at bingo love me.”

Shaking with both adrenaline and the effort to keep that image out of his mind, he makes his way towards you. Purposeful. Pointedly ignoring the matching smirks flashed his way.

“You really think they’ll finally get together today?” Fushiguro deadpans from where he’d snuck up beside the old man, in an attempt to escape the public nuisances he calls ‘friends’.

Choso’s grandfather hums thoughtfully, watching the scene play out before him - Choso flushed such a delicate shade of pink as you playfully put Yaga’s sunglasses on him. Settling on a gruff, “I’ll give it a few months more. He’s my grandson, after all.”

“That’s generous. I’d give it a couple years more.”

“Wanna bet, brat?”

“...”

Safe to say, his second button ended up safely in your hands that day. But Fushiguro would be the one to really win the bet.

Because it was only 2 years, 4 months and 3 weeks after this little incident that Choso finally had you exactly where he wanted - with no interruptions. All for him.

Freshly twenty one, splayed out on your apartment bedroom and having a conversation that he never in a million years would’ve even dared to imagine he’d have - with you of all people. All because of that stupid R-rated film you’d put on for movie night.

“You’ve never what?” you gape, turning down the volume to those painfully fake moans coming from the tv.

Oh, how gorgeous you looked - all shocked and batting your lashes up at him in surprise. Choso almost swoons inwardly (and outwardly) before he realizes that shit you were probably waiting for an answer.

“I mean, yeah?” he sputters out, cheeks heating up as you lean in closer to hear him. Close. “So what if I’ve never…uh-” eyes darting to the erotic scene on-screen. “M’surely not missing out on that much.”

Goddammit, some strange, carnal part of himself twinges dangerously at the little smirk that curls your lips. One that he quickly - and embarrassingly - realizes has the blood rushing straight to his cock. Humming a low, “Maybe. Maybe not.” The mattress dips slightly as you shift closer, lips ghosting his ear. “Want me to help you find out?”

Which is, well, how Choso found himself shoved against the armrest. Blanket thrown on the floor now, swollen cock leaking furiously through his pants as your pretty lil’ cunt hovers above his mouth. So wet that if he stuck his tongue out he could have you dripping all onto him.

“Y-you sure about this, sweetheart?” he hisses despite his hands looping around your thighs, bringing you closer to him.

You raise a brow, “Are you sure, Cho?”

He should say no. He should laugh this all off as a bad joke. He shouldn’t ruin this friendship - but oh how badly he wants just a taste of your dripping pussy - see if she’s as sweet as the rest of you is. So, throwing caution to the wind, Choso nods slowly. “Yes. Want it s’bad.”

Grinning wickedly, you whisper, “Thought so.” And then he’s pulling you onto his mouth, hot and urgent.

“Oh fuck-” he groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the first taste of your sweet sweet juices. “Shit shit shit.” So sloppily licking up your swollen folds - barely moving with any method or patience, just that he’s drunk on your pussy and wants more more more-

“Hngh- f-fuck. You sure this is your hah- first time, Cho?” you gasp breathlessly. And oh your best friend was so fucking beautiful. Dark hair untied and tousled, eyes half-hooded, your slick already smearing across the bottom half of his face and trickling down his jaw because shit he was so messy. So addicted to that desperate expression on your face that he just can’t help but tease you a little bit.

“Mhm?” he smirks, tongue swirling around your pulsing clit. Purposefully missing right where you wanted him the most because shit he loved those cute lil’ whines spilling out of you.

You let out a huff, hips trying pathetically to inch him closer - but Choso wasn’t budging. Holding you so firmly by the hips that you’re sure he leaves bruises, licking all over your cunt except for your clit. “Cho.” you warn. Brows furrowing in frustration at the way he bats his long lashes up at you so deceivingly innocently, “What?”

“You know…”

“I don’t.” he titters teasingly into your pussy.

“Choso.”

Now, Choso’s known and seen everything there is to do with you - but never like this. Spread open shamefully and pouting so adorably on top of him, so needy for him. It made his head spin to think of just how much the dynamics had shifted.

Shit, he really should’ve watched that godforsaken movie with you sooner. “Tell me what you want, crybaby.”

And oh how his cock twitches at the way you manage to get out an embarrassed little, “Wan’ you to ngh- tonguefuck me properly. Wanna cum on your pretty face, Cho.”

And that’s all that’s said before he’s surging forward, glossy lips wrapping around your pulsing clit to suck harshly. Rolling his soft tongue over and over-

“Wanted this for so long.” Choso mutters, muffled as he buries himself deeper into your pretty pussy. The vibrations sending white-hot pleasure running down your spine. “You have absolutely no idea, pretty.”

And you barely even have the time to register his little confession before Choso’s moving down to bully his tongue past your folds. Nose pressing against your throbbing clit as he dips into your sloppy hole.

“Oh shit. Jus’ like that.” For a beginner, your best friend really knew what he was doing. Eating you out like his favorite meal, tongue squeezing into your snug pussy to thrust in and out, swipe against your walls, stretching you out right to his will. Over and over-

“Use me.”

Your eyes snap down to meet the pure adoration in his eyes as he makes out filthily with your cunt. Choking out a little, “What?”

“Use me.”

There it was again - that strained little mantra. And as if to prove his point, Choso reaches out to deftly place your hands on his head, bucking into you touch.

And, well, how could you say no to that?

Because before you know it, you’re bunching Choso’s soft strands in your fists. Angling him just right to ride his pretty face. “C’mon, Cho. Ngh- H-harder, jus’ a bit- Oh!” he just devours the way your mouth drops into an adorable little oh! as his tongue curls deftly against that one spot. Again and again. Letting himself be so used, dragging your dripping cunt harder on his mouth.

And he likes it. Hell, he loves it even - because you’re so sweet n’ pretty on his mouth. Better than everything he’s ever been dreaming of for the past few years. And always in his dreams, you’d be clenching so deliciously around his tongue when you were close - just like right now.

So he speeds up his movements, breathing you in maddeningly. A hand snaking down from it’s favorite place on your hips to draw quick, frenzied little circles on your poor, ravaged clit. Jaw almost aching with how filthily he was dripping in and out of your entrance - be he did give a shit. Only wanting to have you breathless and creaming all over his face.

You jerk violently on top of him, “Hah! S’too much, Cho. M’so close- gonna cum- gonna-”

And then you’re cumming. Fast, and hard.

Plushy walls clamping down on Choso’s tongue, hips stuttering on his face as he laps up all your juices, an arm around your waist helping you ride his face through your high.

“S’sweet. Could get used to that.” he slurs into your cunt. Tipping his head back as far as it’d go to let the last of your juices slide down his throat. “Better than I imagined.”

The words ring in your ears as you blink back your vision. Deliriously whirling down to look down at Choso - still beneath you and looking more smug and content than you’d ever seen him. “Imagination? S’that why you’re so good.”

“No.”

You’re being flipped before you know it. Manhandled so easily by your best friend as he lays you on your back, sinking into the cushion while he looms above you. “S’jus’ that…” grunting as he flings his shirt off, “Been dreaming of your pretty cunt on m’tongue for years.”

Okay, now his confession hits - more than it did when he was tonguefucking you into insanity, anyway.

“Years, huh?” you breathe out, eyes roaming all over his sculpted torso. Taking in every dip and curve of Choso’s toned abs - all the way from his broad shoulders to the rock-hard cock straining against his pants. As if in a trance, your hand reaches out to cup his leaking erection, “S’that all you’ve been dreaming of?”

“You little minx.” he lets out a low hiss.

Before you can even react, Choso’s fumbling with that belt - cursing because shit, he’d have worn sweatpants instead if he knew they’d end up on your floor.

And you’re not any better, fingers popping open his buttons and tugging impatiently and oh- You always thought that your best friend would have a big dick - but this? He was so intimidatingly long - and thick enough that you wondered whether you’d hurt yourself. Fat tip flushed such a pretty shade of pink to match his cheeks, leaking down down down, all the way to his heavy balls.

You’re only jolted out of your little reverie by Choso spitting a steady stream of spit onto your quivering cunt, spreading it lazily across your pussy with his thumb. A ringed fist pumping his cock slowly, as he drags his tip across your folds, pooling your sweet juices. Muttering out a raspy, “I’ll be gentle.”

“You better not be, now jus’ fuck me-”

Well, you didn’t have to ask Choso twice. Because you’ve barely gotten the words out before he’s bullying massive cock into your tight cunt. Pressing in inch by fucking inch as you gasp and buck underneath him.

“Shhh, s’okay, crybaby. This is what you wanted, right?” he mumbles, with all the audacity of someone that wasn’t fucking into you in rapid, mindless little jabs to fit inside your snug lil’ pussy. Struggling to hold back at this point. “Wanted to be split apart on m’cock?”

You were so full of him. Even more so when he throws your legs over his shoulders, bending all the way down and folding you in half so easily beneath him.

He drinks in the barely-lucid squeal that leaves your swollen lips. Kissing your forehead gently, whispering against the skin, “Because I’ve wanted this for so fucking long.”

And then it was like something snapped - maybe his sanity, maybe the restraint that Choso’s been holding back for too long. Because immediately he’s plunging his throbbing cock into you - all the way till his balls, all angry and squeezing so painfully, smacks against your ass.

“Wanted this.” he rasps into your open mouth. His hips were out of control now, thrusting you in shallow, desperate rams. Pounding into you like a man possessed, and running his mouth just as much. He laces his fingers on top of your head, pushing you down even deeper into his relentless cock - as if the bastard wasn’t fucking you dumb already. “Fuckin’ needed this needed this. Shit- so bad.”

“Ch-Choso- fuck hah-” you plead as his mouth clashes with yours. All sloppy with teeth and spit and his profanities - and it felt so damn good.

“Yeah? Who’s fucking you silly, now?” he’s going harder now, tip hitting your poor cervix over and over. And you’d be sobbing at the burn and the stretch but all you can think of is shit this is Choso - the kid you used to play hide and seek with. And now he seems fully intent on breaking you. “Say m’name.”

A rough thumb starts toying with your clit, in time with the cute lil’ whines of his name that escape your mouth like a prayer. “Shit. Y’look so pretty like this.” he babbles. “Gonna cry, pretty girl?” smirking down at the way you were too cockdrunk to even snap back, only looking up at him with delirious, teary eyes. “Be a crybaby for my cock?”

You’re tugging on his hair, thighs shaky and bucking upwards. “Cho-”

“Mhm?”

“W-wanna cum. Need you to fill m’up till I can’t take it anymore.”

Oh if Choso was any lesser man he’d have cum right then and there. Instead settling for a guttural groan, drunk off the way you were milking his cock so hard as if to prove your point. It almost made him want to stay like this forever. But no - not right now.

“Oh yeah?” Hips becoming sloppy now, “Need it? Shit- m’so close.” Each word slurred, punctuated by a harsh thrust, strokes long and frenzied. Using your heavenly pussy like his personal fucktoy. So hard that he’s sure you’d have embarrassing matching bruises tomorrow - his balls on your ass, your nails raking down his shoulders.

“Me too- fuck fuck fuck-” you mewl into his neck, as Choso buried his face into yours.

“Cum f’me, my girl.”

My girl.

And then you are - and he is. And you don’t know who cums first, just that you’re seeing stars behind your eyes and Choso’s teeth digging into your neck as he thrusts once. Twice. Before cumming and cumming so hard he might as well have seen the pearly gates of heaven. And you were an angel.

Thick, hot ropes of cum that paint your walls white, so much that it gushes out of your poor overfilled pussy. Dripping down your legs and pooling into a sinful, creamy ring at his base.

“Mm- shit. Choso.” you moan, barely audible over the lewd squelches from below.

“M’here, my girl.” he grits out, voice shot. And it seems that that was his new favorite nickname, because Choso keeps murmuring it over and over as he keeps fucking his seed into you. Not even thinking about it at this point - just mindless, shallow grinds of his hips.

In the haze of your orgasm, you think you hear his quiet voice, strained with exhaustion and something that you weren’t in the right state of mind to decipher right now.

“Shhh, m’here. “Can’t believe I waited so fuckin’ long.” Whispering against your lips, “Love this. Love this pretty cunt.” Kissing softly, “Love the way y’take me. Fuckin’ made f’me.” And maybe even a soft little, “Love you.”

And maybe - just maybe, you whisper the same into his. Kissing him softly, exactly the way you’d wanted to all these years.

Neither of you speak after that. Not when Choso’s hips stall, body sticky and collapsing onto yours. Nor do you speak when he pulls away with a playful nip to your lower lip - a promise. Searching through your clothes for a washcloth he can wipe yourselves clean with.

It’s only when he settles back under the covers beside you, looking at you with such dark, hazy eyes - whirling with too many emotions to name - that the silence is broken.

“Crybaby.”

“Cho.”

“Corny.”

“You started it.”

Chuckling, Choso pulls your body close to his. Not even a hair’s breadth between you two because shit now that he’s got you, he doesn’t think he ever wants to let you go.

“Y’know…” he starts, “I think we should- I mean- if you want…” nervous now more than he was even after all that just transpired. Cheeks flaring as he meets your amused gaze, just daring him to go on - because you saw through him. You always did. “I lov-”

“Am I late for the mov- WHAT THE FUCK I ALWAYS KNEW BRATS WEREN’T JUST FRIENDS-”

---

Itadori Family Groupchat + Two More

Dad: Hey, all. I can’t seem to get a hold of Choso to confirm tomorrow’s dinner plans. Can anyone else let me know if he’s ok? XX

-Jin.

Yuji <3: He’s probs at rhat “best friend movie night” still

Dad: Hello, Yuji. What is a “probs”? XX

-Jin.

Kugisaki: He’s suspiciously quiet, though… Y’all think that “best friend movie night” is codeword for something else?

Yuji <3: Better not be cuz Sukuna stole my sparw key sayin something ab crashing it idk

Kugisaki: *spare

And you just LET him?

Yuji <3: HE THREATENED TO BURN MY MEGAN THEE STALLION POSTER

…

AND DID IT ANYWAY

Kugisaki: L

Fushiguro: L

Gramps: L

Sukuna (do not answer): DID Y’ALL KNOW THOSE TWO WERE FUCKIN????

*Fushiguro has left the chat*

Dad: :0

-Jin.

A/N. Spiritually, this is a crackfic idk.

#choso x reader #choso smut #choso x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #choso #tonywrites #choso kamo

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screampied · 4 months

Note

i want to sit on higuruma’s face and ride his nose so badly 😔😔

☆ higuruma x fem! reader

⤷ tags: cunnilingus, praise, riding higuruma’s nose

the minute you ask him, he’s so compliant.

at first you were sure higuruma would make fun of you. although, he’s the exact opposite—you find yourself hovering just over his mouth, barely.

higuruma’s fingers gently ghost against your hips before bringing a kiss against the middle fabric part of your panties.

“hey, if you wanna ride my nose, angel then jus’ do it,” and his voice was smooth, you stare at him, and by the second you’re growing more and more wet. “don’t be shy.”

“…o-okay,”

you mumbled, your knees bent, you were just casually lingering over him—you move yourself done just a bit and your panties rub against his nose.

higuruma chuckles, you were so frantic solely by the movement of your hips. higuruma licks a stripe against your underwear, watching you squirm in desperation before he moves the string to the side. “get nice ‘n comfy, that’s it.”

you gnaw on your lip, starting to move your hips just a bit against his face. you felt the tip of his nose repeatedly tap and prod against your pussy. the moment you felt his tongue softly go against your folds, you shudder from his touch.

“h—hiro,” you’d squeak out, and darkened eyes of his meet yours.

a single hand of his has a firm grip on your right thigh as he’s returning you a sensual stare. “fuck..” you panted, and he’s easily stimulating your clit with just a few licks and sucks of his tongue. you’re grinding against his face ploddingly, almost as if you were hesitating at first before he brings to hands to make you sit all on him.

the sounds of your own breathing started to pick up, and he looked so pretty underneath you—just his eyes half-lidded, lips slightly parted and a tiny smirk pressing against the very corners of his lips.

fingers of yours started to go through his hair, giving it a slight yank, it’s unintentional and it drags out a groan from higuruma.

“easy, girl. easy.”

“sorry...”

you moaned, feeling his nose continuously rub against your pussy. the soft middle part just swiping all against your clit, his lips were attached, never releasing its grip.

it doesn’t take much long before your legs start to shake and judder. you felt yourself slowly reaching up to that pleasurable point.

“angel…just relax, i got you.” he purrs in a raspy voice, departing his lips for a brief moment just to kiss all against your puffed folds.

you were drenched, soaked even. his tongue had your eyes rolling back, backwards. higuruma teasingly brings a thumb towards your pussy and runs down your slit just for him to give it a sweet kiss. “could have you sit on my face all day, gorgeous.”

and he meant that, because after you always whined on wanting to ride his face—more specifically, his nose.

you’d find yourself doing it all the time, just sitting there, looking pretty until you came all on his face. “hiromi, hiro—”

“oh, i know,” he murmurs, and higuruma starts to stroke himself. you made him so hard he couldn’t help but touch himself. low husky grunts escaped from his lips as you’re an entire shaky mess on his face. “give it to me,” and his warm breath dances against your thighs—you feel him give your thighs a light pull forward towards his mouth and you moan. “come on baby, come on.”

his voice was so gentle, purely identical to his touch. the way his tongue grazed against every inch had you whining for more incessantly. so sloppy, occasionally he’d spit on your pussy just to lap it up with his tongue. he was covered from the nose down with your slick.

higuruma found himself giving your clit multiple kisses just to watch you cutely squirm and jolt against him.

your hands grip his hair and you’re whimpering. after a few seconds, your legs thrash and shake and then you came. he smiles at the way your body responded to his tongue, barely able to keep your hold on his hair.

“good girl, just make a mess ‘n let me clean it.” he mutters, giving your pussy a final kiss. “look at me. eyes down here,” and you move your eyes down towards him. higuruma grabs you off of him before pulling you close towards him. he brushes a thumb against your lips before planting a three second kiss on your mouth. so lewd, you tasted yourself all on his tongue — the sheer sweetness of it had you whimpering for more.

“…sweet girl.” he utters, and you moan into his mouth, returning it before feeling him reach a hand down to give your pussy a light squeeze. “i’m not finished with you yet, want more of you.”

his words had you pulsing, and as you continued to kiss him — with him breaking away every few seconds to speak, that’s when higuruma suddenly makes you bend over, softly caressing your ass with the palm of his hand. “arch just like that for me, yeah..”

#★vegasbaby.#higuruma hiromi x reader #higuruma smut #higuruma hiromi #higuruma x reader #higuruma x you #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #anime smut #female reader

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deadsetobsessions · 4 months

Text

Alley Drunk! Danny AU- Part 1

[Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4]

To not turn into a giant raging asshole hell bent on murdering people and destroying the world after everyone he loved died, Danny had ran from Amity with his chosen vice.

A bottle. That’s right. Even after Jazz’s talks about alcoholism as a poor coping mechanism as a form of self harm, he still chose alcohol. Or maybe that’s why he picked it, because it reminded him of her, right before the booze took the sting of grief off of her memory. He was never really all that good at listening to Jazz.

And now she’s gone, so it’s moot point. Danny really hated Nasty Burger.

Danny made it all the way to Gotham, bottle constantly glued to his hand. It’s better than Vlad’s creep-o-self looming over him all of the time. He bummed out on the streets, fitting into crime alley like a native. Danny learned to pickpocket. Not much, just enough for a bottle when his ran out. He stayed human. At first he tried to convince himself that it was because he didn’t want to be perceived as a meta in a city where Batman notoriously disliked metas. Then, as he sunk deeper, he admitted to himself in a shameful curl of a whisper that it was really because alcohol affected his human side much easier.

Ghosts need an ungodly amount of alcohol to even get slightly buzzed. Danny’s human side? Only one full bottle the shittiest tequila he could find could even hope to be more than buzzed. It sucked.

He’s spent two years being an alcoholic that didn’t actually get that drunk. Technically, underage drinking was a crime. But then again, so was being a vigilante ghost. So, whatever. He does what he can to dull the grief. Mostly, he slept on covered and hidden nooks on top of Crime Alley’s roofs. Gotham city had taken pity on him and cleared her smog clouds when he was awake at night. Stargazing helped, at least. It gave him a little hope. It gave him a little wish to change and better and live like he wants. But then the night ends and when the day comes, Jazz isn’t there. Sam isn’t there. Tucker isn’t there. His mom and dad are not there.

Danny always went back to the bottle, in the end. Not that it did much.

Which was why, when he saw three looming figures over a tiny child, Danny’s saving people thing flared with a vengeance and his surprised ectoplasm burned what little buzz he had achieved by downing most of the bottle away, leaving him stone cold sober and pissed.

Danny sighed, dumping the rest of the nasty tasting liquid out. There’s no point drinking that little.

He approached the trio, who were beating up an actual child. Ancients, he hated Crime Alley sometimes.

“Give me your shit, you little punk!” Asshole 1 decided to say like a typical mugger, raising his leg to kick the curled up kid below. Danny doesn’t let him land the kick, smashing the bottle on the asshole’s head before any of them clocked his presence. He pivots, pushing a bit of that extra strength he normally keeps on a tight leash into his hands, and punched the other two in a quick fashion, knocking them out.

With that taken care of, Danny turned back to the kid who was still curled up. Danny sighed again, the trembles in small shoulders plucking on his heartstrings.

“You okay, kid?”

The kid uncurls, and Danny stared. Holy shit, is he looking into a mirror? Blue eyes, black hair, and tanned skin. Holy shit, he’s even got similar jaws to Danny.

“Huh.”

The kid flinched.

“Y-y’er the drunk,” the kid flinched again, eyes darting to the broken bottle still clenched in Danny’s hand. “I- I ain’t got money, honest. Please-”

Danny blinked down at the kid, brain connecting the dots after so long without actual interaction. He’s panicking and staring at the bottle in Danny’s hand like it’ll kill him. Danny raised the bottle and the kid closed his mouth with a click, terror worming its way into the kid’s eyes.

“I wasn’t going to mug you myself, kid.”

“But- y’er the- the Alley drunk.”

Danny blinked. Did he get a reputation without knowing again? Goddammit.

“I guess. Am I famous or somethin’?”

“Nobody- nobody fucks wit’ ya.”

“I also don’t hurt kids.”

“…”

The kid stared at him dubiously and with a sinking feeling, Danny realized that maybe the kid already had some terrible experiences with a heavy drunken hand. He promptly chucks the bottle further into the alley.

“I drink, yes. But I’m also not the kind of scum that would lay hands on a kid, let alone anyone that didn’t provoke it first.”

“Oh.” The kid uncurled more, looking at Danny warily, more at ease now that the bottle has left the chat.

“Yeah. I’m Danny. Stone cold sober, right now.”

“…”

Danny waited.

“Peters.”

“Okay. Peters, do you wanna take their shit?” Danny pointed a thumb at the knocked out would-be-muggers behind him.

“Y… yeah, sure. What’s my cut?”

“All of it.”

Peters stared.

Danny shrugged and started looting.

"Y'er so fuckin' weird."

----

See, the thing is, Danny hadn't anticipated saving Peters- "'s actually Jason"- would result in having a duckling following him around. The kid, Jason, glared at everyone who even looked at them wrong. But that's not the problem, because Danny could take anyone who took issue with Jason's looks, it's more like there's a child following him around now and Danny doesn't want to be the reason Jason turns into an alcoholic. It's- well, it made him cut down on the drinking. He even got jobs- legitimate jobs that sucks out his his poor ectoplasmic soul.

Why? Because Jason's apparently homeless. While that's something Danny's okay with for himself, he can't ever condone that for an actual child. Jason's walking around in threadbare clothes and thin soled shoes in the middle of Fall, for Ancient's sake.

Danny grumbles as he piled a bunch of clothes into the shopping bag as he checked out. Gotham's Walmart is a different kind of hell, but Danny feels right at home.

Sure, the work might suck out his soul and he might hate being sober, but Jason's face every time he comes home to an actual place to live, warm clothes, and food was worth everything.

#danny phantom #dc x dp #DCxDP #dpxdc #jason todd #batman #crime alley #Danny: im gonna be an alcoholic #also Danny: a child needs help and I don’t drink anymore #Danny phantom’s saving people thing #drunk danny #alcoholic danny #but not for long #danny adopts jason todd #jason todd follows his big brother into being a vigilante #kind of #he becomes robin #but gets rescued by his long suffering brother every once and a while #alley drunk! Danny AU

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nereidprinc3ss · 7 days

Note

hi!!! here for a request. can we have a imagine where reader has a wound from surgery or whatever on like in a rib and she hides to change the bandages but then spencer sees her and he’s like ‘lemme help you’ and…

you do you for the rest!

in which spencer helps BAU fem!reader change her bandages in the bathroom at work. it's intimate, and he's adorable and awkward, and it only fuels her terrible, terrible crush.

warnings/tags: fluff, talk/description of wound, brief talk of being stabbed (does not actually occur in this fic lol), reader wears a bra, spencer undoes said bra but not sexually, lots of suggestive humor and teasing, a TINY sprinkling of angst but not really, idiots in love

a/n: i'm picturing early seasons spencer and it is filling me with so much unbridled joy. I. LOVE. HIM. thank you for the request!! and lets not talk about how inconsistent my formatting for requests is pls and thanks!!

It’s not like you meant to bend down so quickly that your wound reopened—but here you are, suffering the consequences of your actions in the women’s bathroom at Quantico as you try to assess the injury before you re-bandage it. And your shoe is still untied.

Unfortunately, the fact that you had quite literally been stabbed in the back last week makes it hard to reach said injury—especially when you’re at work and so can’t take off your shirt like you normally would. And all this struggling means it’s taking longer than it should, so now you’re focused on the wound and its scabby, wet edges and all the things it’s secreting rather than hurrying to give another statement of the entire event to Hotch since the first one had apparently been too sparse on the details.

A knock sounds on the open door. Spencer calls your name.

“You in there?”

The angle of your neck has your voice slightly strained as you call back, “yeah, what’s up? Is it Hotch?” you pause to hiss as you accidentally scratch at the wound with a nail. You don’t even want to know how much bacteria you just introduced to it. “Tell him I didn’t forget our meeting, I’ll be there in—”

“It’s not Hotch. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay with your back? I know you said you were going to check on it, but you’ve been in there a while.”

You sigh, dropping your sore arm as you continue to hold up your shirt with the other and regarding the reflection of your back in the mirror.

“Actually—could you come in here?”

There’s a pause.

“You want me to come into the women’s restroom?”

“Yes, Spencer. It’s fine. There’s nobody else in here. I just… I need some help, I think.”

The last part is admitted quietly, with an air of defeat. To admit to needing help, is, by your standards, the same as failure. Spencer knows this, which is probably the only reason he puts aside his hesitations and shuffles uncertainly into the tiled room. If you’re asking for help, it’s because you really need it.

“What do you need help with?” he asks, sweeping his gaze suspiciously around the lavatory as if you were lying about there not being any other women present and this whole thing might be a trap of some sort.

“It’s gross, and you can totally say no.”

He raises his brows expectantly, before spotting the weeping wound on your back. Unconsciously he steps closer, leaning forward. It’s not your fault, and the gore is not specific to you—anyone’s body would react this way to being stabbed. But you still feel embarrassed by the close attention to such an ugly marring, which nobody besides you and your doctors has actually seen up close.

“That doesn’t look good,” he mutters. The expression on his face is irritatingly familiar—the drawn brows, tightened eyes, barely parted lips—but it takes a moment before you realize what it is.

“Reid,” you complain. He’s still stooped over slightly to examine the wound, and looks up at you through dark lashes with those infuriatingly warm puppydog eyes.

“What?”

“You’re looking at me the way you look at a dead body on the slab.”

His nose scrunches.

Some might say it scrunches adorably.

“No, I’m not. That’s just my face.”

“Okay, well stop. It’s freaking me out.”

He pouts—actually pouts. Subtle, but bottom lip jutted out and all. It’s ridiculously endearing.

“My face freaks you out?”

“Wh—no! That’s not what I said! You have—you have a great face! I didn’t mean—”

You manage to claw yourself out of the hole you’re digging when you see the dopey smile growing on his face.

Oh. He was fucking with you.

He never used to do that. It’s unnerving to be the fucked with instead of the fucker for a change. Especially when it’s Spencer.

“What did you need me for?” Spencer asks by way of peace offering. You close your eyes and sigh, attempting to collect your thoughts without his presence re-scrambling them.

“Um—I just need you to put this bandage over it. I can’t reach without taking my shirt off.”

And now you’re forced to wonder if he’s thinking about you shirtless as much as you’re thinking about you shirtless.

“Yeah—don’t do that,” he says absentmindedly, stepping again closer to get a better look before turning to the nearest sink.

For some reason, this offends you.

“Why not?”

Spencer pulls another face as he washes his hands—you love the constant flow of expressions he always seems so unconscious of. Even when they’re not pleasant and directed at you.

“Are you asking me why shouldn’t you take your shirt off?” he clarifies.

“I know why I shouldn’t take my shirt off, but I want to know why you think I shouldn’t take my shirt off.”

“Because we’re at work?” he observes astutely. You frown deeply at his completely logical reply. Spencer chuckles as he dries his hands and approaches once more, taking the square of gauze pre-lined with medical tape from your hand. “I mean, I can’t stop you. But it would be kind of a weird choice.”

“Oh, so me shirtless is weird?”

Cool fingers meet the comparatively hot skin of your back—where everything is still sensitive because the wound wreaked havoc on your nerves there. You flinch slightly.

“Sorry,” he murmurs gently. Though his touch is so incredibly light it doesn’t really hurt—it hurts much less than when you’re tending to the wound, anyway. It’s almost soothing. After a moment he continues, a bit louder. “And that is not what I was saying. But I am completely comfortable asserting that it would be weird for you to be shirtless at work.”

The gentle touches contrast with his teasing words and serve to disorient you as you’re shaken back in to your usual dynamic. Which is markedly more sarcastic.

“Well—”

Before you have to think of something to say, Spencer interrupts you.

“Your, um—I think your… brassiere… is in the way.”

As soon as he says it you burst out laughing. It echoes through the room.

“My brassiere? Are you actually 70 years old?”

His brows knit even tighter and his face gets very pink very quickly. He can’t meet your eyes over your shoulder.

“That’s what it’s called.”

“Spencer, you may be the first person to use that word since 1952. Say bra.”

“I don’t want to,” he complains. Your laughter only grows as your head tips back.

“Why? How is brassiere better than bra?”

“It’s—it’s too colloquial! I’m trying to be professional!”

“Call it a bra or I’m going to rub my dirty hands all over my back,” you threaten, adopting a poker face so he knows you mean business. His eyes widen immediately.

“Oh my god! Bra! Do you want to introduce staph and meningitis and g—do not do that!”

“See? How hard was that?”

“I hate you,” he mumbles, face still flushed and adorable. “And you still have to take it off.”

“Excuse me?” you grin, pretending to be affronted because you know he didn’t mean it like that but it’s fun to pretend he did. Fun for you, of course. Not so much for him. He's utterly flustered by this point.

“Or at least undo it! It’s in the way.”

With a deeply bored sigh, you go to unclasp your bra—but as you go to do it your shirt drops down. You grimace, humor briefly forgotten as the fabric brushes the damaged skin.

“I can’t—”

“Okay, just—I’ll do it,” Spencer says. “Just move your shirt again.”

So you do, watching his reflection as he works.

And you have not one joke to break the heavy silence with as you feel his knuckles gently pressing into the middle of your back, as he unclasps the bra with his characteristic tenderness and a surprising amount of agility. It’s quiet except for your pulse in your own ears as he carefully pushes it out of his way, holding it down with a hand to your rib cage and fingertips slipping just under the fabric of your shirt—unintentionally and certainly non-sexual, no doubt, but skimming under your heart in a way that still feels so intimate you’re realizing how touch-starved you are.

“You do that often?” you find yourself asking, because you’re stupid, and you need to cool the tension before it chokes you, and you can’t help yourself even though you don’t actually want to know the answer.

“I,” he begins, voice quiet as rustling paper, tongue darting over his lip and eyes narrowed. The sentence stalls as he focuses on placing the patch just so. “Do not think that is an appropriate workplace question.”

Something aches in the pit of your stomach.

Something resembling jealousy.

It was not the timid evasive linguistic maneuver of someone who is insecure about the thing they’re discussing. It was not the awkward fumbling no but I don’t want to tell you that which you were expecting from Spencer Reid.

Nor is it an easy yes—an admission between friends. He doesn’t want to tell you.

You swallow and try to act like yourself.

“Yet here you are, in the woman’s restroom at our place of employment, undoing my bra. I think we’re past professionalism.”

“When you decontextualize it like that it sounds like something it’s not. This is professional, because I’m helping you with a wound you sustained on the job. I’m being a good colleague.”

Your lips twist into a smile he can’t see.

“A great colleague would kiss it better.”

“It's almost like you want me to file a sexual harassment complaint with HR," he says through a little smirk as he smooths the bandage over. Before you can snip back, he steamrolls over his own teasing—you’ve both been speaking in almost reverent tones since he started but his voice loses the sarcastic edge from a second before and reverts back to concerned and sweet. “Does that feel okay?”

You rotate your shoulders best you can without letting go of your shirt or flashing the good doctor to check if it feels secure.

“It’s good. And hey—if I were going to sexually harass you I would do a lot better than that. You think that’s my best material? That’s just the tip of the iceberg. I keep so many inappropriate comments to myself. You’d be shocked by some of the things I have almost said to you.”

He laughs, secures the band of your bra and begins fitting it to the clasp you’d had it on—and at that precise moment Emily walks in.

“H—woah.”

“It’s—I’m—I was helping her!” Spencer panics, immediately removing his hands from you like his palms are burning and holding them up defensively.

“Oh, you helped me alright,” you tease, pulling your shirt back into place.

“Don’t say it like that!” And then, to Emily, “I was changing out her bandage!”

“Changing my bandage,” you emphasize, winking more than is advisable.

“That’s—this is a hostile work environment! I feel unsafe!” Spencer almost yells, half laughs, as he scampers towards the door. “I’m going to HR!”

“Shut up! You love it!”

His laughter audibly travels farther away for several moments as he presumably goes back down the hallway to do his actual job.

You have the stupidest grin on your face, but you wipe it off when you notice Emily staring.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she says, shaking her head and looking away, moving toward a stall. “You’re just… you guys are funny.”

“What do you mean funny?” You demand, standing right outside her stall as she closes it.

“Wh—I mean funny! Are you going to listen to me pee, you weirdo?”

You frown.

She makes a good point.

Unfortunately, giving Hotch a more detailed statement is just as bad as you’d thought it’d be. Despite how cheery you’ve tried to remain about the whole situation, despite the way you insisted that the wound was so shallow you didn’t need more than a few days off work, despite the jokes you make about forgetting it’s even there because it’s on your back—it’s hard not to remember exactly how the glass felt twisting under your skin, how you’d felt suddenly so hot and lightheaded and sick to your stomach and the way Morgan hollered because he didn’t know how deep it had gone after you crumpled quick from shock, when you’re asked to describe it all in excruciating detail.

It only takes ten minutes, but they seem to drag on and on and by the time you’re leaving Hotch’s office you feel utterly drained. You hurry back to your desk, covertly wiping away moisture that you refuse to allow to become tears. Once seated, and having dodged sympathetic looks and avoided any do you want to talk about its, you allow yourself a few deep breaths with your eyes shut.

When you open them, you realize there’s a fresh cup of your favorite tea on your desk, in the Snoopy mug the team is always fighting over. Now his little black nose is covered by a square of yellow paper. You’re already smiling as you peel away the sticky note and hold it closer.

On it is an adorably odd smiley-face, and a note in familiar, messy looping scrawl.

I would never report you to HR beautiful

That would be a stab in the back!

You snort loudly and clap a hand to your mouth—but you’ve already drawn the attention of almost everyone in the bullpen.

When you turn to look at Spencer, he’s not looking back. Instead, his eyes are firmly trained on his computer screen. But he’s got his chin propped on his fist over the desk, and his knuckles are doing a poor job of concealing a giant self satisfied grin. He is the only person on the team who knows you well enough to make such a distasteful joke. And he also knows you well enough to know that it would make you feel so much better after your meeting with Hotch than all the well-meaning sincerity in the world ever could.

Funny.

Maybe that is the right word for what you two are.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic

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xxblairexxss · 8 months

Text

A fresh start (p.2)

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x singlemom!reader

Theme : Tiny bit of angst, fluff

Word count : 4.7k

Part 1

In which Charles had a crush on the new member of the team without knowing he was already a good friend of her toddler.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

"Charlie! Charlie! Charlie!"

Joris cackled as he heard the tiny voice come from outside the room. His phone was no longer interesting as he threw a couch pillow to his sleeping friend on the couch, making him grumble and turn his position to the side.

“Charles,” Joris called out.

The driver hummed, his eyes still shut.

"Your little friend is looking for you.” Joris tilted his head when a soft knock came from the door along with the tiny voice, the same one that had been calling his friend from the garage.

"Charlie? Is there anyone inside?"

"Come in, Adam.” To that, the door slowly creaked open as the little kid walked in. He was holding a cute-looking carnosaurus in his small hand and peeked inside to find the friend he was looking for asleep.

"Oh? Charlie’s sleeping!"

Joris stifled his laugh as Adam started tiptoeing inside the room with his pointy finger against his pouty lips. "It’s okay; just talk like you normally do. Charles could sleep through an earthquake. Why are you looking for him?"

He scrambled his way on the couch with full struggle without letting go of the toy in his hand before he finally replied to Joris’ question. "I want to show Charlie my new watch! Look! It has a dinosaur on it!"

"Mommy bought it?” Joris queried.

"No. Daddy bought it! It’s my first gift from him!” He giggled and squirmed when Charles softly poked at his waist as he slowly got out of his drowsy, somnolent state. "Charlie’s awake!"

"Charles, I’m heading out for a while. See you, Adam. Make sure Charlie doesn’t fall asleep anymore. He has work to do.”

Adam waved to Joris as he made his way out as Charles sat up, yawning from his short nap.

"Bye bye, Joris! Charlie, look!" Adam nearly punched him in the face with his enthusiasm. That would have knock the sleepiness out of him right away. The driver then focused on the watch Adam has been excited to show to him. It was a kids watch in blue with a picture of a dinosaur.

"That’s so cool! Did you go out with your dad?” He grasped the tiny wrist and scanned through the details of the watch.

"We didn’t because daddy was busy, but he bought me a gift!” Adam cupped on his own cheeks and swayed his body left and right, remembering what it felt like to hang out with his dad forever.

"My watch is cool too. Look." It was Charles’ turn to show his as he extended his arm, a cocky smile was plastered on his face.

"Yours doesn’t have a dinosaur like mine!”

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

"Hey." He sneaked closer behind your back and leaned down, whispering in your ear. Charles had been trying to find you all alone so he could spend some time with you, but you were either hooked by a group meeting or had to be accompanied by a few other colleagues.

"Hi! Are you looking for Adam? He’s back at the hotel early with my colleague." You closed the door as he followed behind.

"No, I’m looking for you. You are not ignoring me, are you? Because I haven’t seen you since Friday."

"No?" You laughed as you saw him nearly slipped down the stairs as you turned back. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Almost died there.”

You then stopped in your tracks so he could walk with your pace by your side. "I’m not ignoring you. There were a lot of things I needed to get done before next month. Congratulations on the points, by the way!” You turned your body, facing the driver, as your ponytail swayed along.

"Thank you. It could have been podium if I got to see your face before the race." He cackled as you pulled a face at his flirty attempts. "Oh, Adam told me his dad took him out. You told me they had never spent time together. Why all of a sudden?"

The grin on your face was washed off instantly as you pressed your lips into a thin line. This whole thing about your ex-husband was never ending. "I..forced him to. Adam heard kids his age talk about going out with their dads, and he asked me what it was like. His dad kept on telling me he didn’t have money to take Adam out, so I gave him the money only for him to keep most of it for himself."

"So he didn’t actually take Adam out? Give me that.” You handed him the files and laptop bag you had been holding as he took them, leaving you with free hands.

"No. I found out later on that Adam told me he was busy, so they hung out in his house eating takeout while he watched a football match.”

"Adam seemed to be fully satisfied with it, though." He remembered the brightest smile he saw soon as he opened his eyes from his afternoon nap yesterday.

"He just wanted to spend time with him. I don’t know, Charles. I feel like…" It felt so hard to come up with any words that could explain your feelings. You wanted to say you wished you hadn’t made a decision to marry him, but you couldn’t imagine your life without Adam. "I feel like I failed at giving him the life he deserved."

"Don’t say that. Just because he was an irresponsible parent doesn’t mean you fail at doing your part.” He saw you asked for your stuffs and was hesitant to give them because his actual plan was to ask you to go back with him.

"I don’t know. Sorry for ruining the mood. I better get going.” You took back your stuff and were heading towards your friend when he tugged on your wrist.

"Will you be at home this week?"

You turned around and looked at him in confusion. "Yeah. Why?"

“I just wanted to drop by."

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"Mommy, Charlie is here”! Adam tugged his little arm from your grip while you were trying to fix his hair, and he scampered, a little wobbly with his unlace shoes to get the door.

"Adam!" You yelled out and heard his little voice apologise for leaving you as he struggled to unlock the door.

"I can't—Charlie, I can’t open the door! Oh, it’s open!” He stepped back as Charles peeped in, making the little one laughed. "Your head looks like it’s floating!"

"Hey, munchkin!" He bent down and cradled his little friend’s head as Adam hugged his legs.

"Mommy said I should get ready because you are picking me up. Where are we going, Charlie? Mommy won’t tell me.” He shook his foot as the shoelaces flailing around him made him giggle.

"It’s a secret. You’ll know when we get there.” Charles crouched down and tied the shoelaces before he ran back to you.

"Mommy’s really not coming?"

You shook your head and continued fixing his fluffy hair as he leaned against your chest. "No. It’s just you and Charlie. I’ll be at home."

"Is it okay to leave mommy alone?"

Your heart melted at his worried face as he leaned away from hugging you. "I’ll be all fine, honey. I’ll call Charlie right away if I need any help."

"No! Don’t call Charlie! Call me!" He patted his chest proudly at the suggestion.

"You don’t have any phones, sweetheart.” You laughed and patted his belly.

"I’m using the same phone number as Charlie. Right, Charlie?" Adam looked up and pulled Charles’ finger to get him to back him up.

"Oh, yes! Ring me, and Adam will be the one saying hi.” Charles beamed at the sight of the little one attacking you with kisses before he made his way.

"Let’s go, Charlie!” He held Charles’s pinky finger as both of them made their way to the door, with you following behind.

"Are you sure you don’t mind taking him out?” You voiced your worry, though it was the driver’s idea in the first place. "I don’t want you to feel obligated just because we like each other.”

"It’s a casual hangout day between friends, right, Adam? Don’t worry about it too much, Y/N. I was the one who wanted to take him out. He—"

"Charlie, let’s go! He yelled out.

You gave Charles’ arm a squeeze as Adam pulled him to step out of the house. "You should go now. He’s all handsome and excited."

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"Charlie! Look at that!” He pointed at the long-neck creature on the left, which made Charles arch his brows.

It turned out Adam’s knowledge of dinosaurs wasn’t just ‘dinosaurs’. He knew every single one ever since they stepped inside the dinosaur land whole Charles had to continuously read every board so he could figure out the names.

"What is his name?” Adam blinked and waited for an answer eagerly.

"Oh? The name? I’m not—I'm not sure about that, buddy. Give me a second.” Charles went in front of the board as he scanned through the paragraphs. "It’s cama—what even is this? Camarasaurus?"

"I thought it was Isisaurus! It looked really similar!” Adam stared at the big, life-sized dinosaur sculptures in amazement.

“Isi—whatever the name was, does it have a long neck like this one too?” Charles was pretty sure this was the 50th dinosaur’s name that had ever come out of that little mouth, yet not only he remembered nothing, he could barely repeat any of them.

"Yes! But it’s not as tall as Brachiosaurus!” He squealed and ran a little far, joining a few groups of kids as the sculptures made another round of noise.

"Yeah, my brain is definitely shutting down.” He mumbled and fished out his phone, joining the little one as he looked up at a different-looking sculpture. "Adam, I’m sending a picture to mommy. Smile!"

"Charlie, wait! Can I show my watch too?” He made a little hop and fixed his watch as he lifted his forearm up to the side of his cheeky face, which melted Charles’ heart from the cuteness.

"There you go! I’m sending this one to mommy, yeah?" He chose the most recent picture and clicked on the send button, as it was ticked as delivered right away.

"Tell mommy I miss her too!"

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"Adam said he misses you."

"Also, how is he so smart? He kept on throwing dinosaurs’ names left and right without even seeing the board. I have never felt so humiliated in my life."

"Everything is just dinosaurs to me. I don’t think they deserve a name."

You cackled at the texts you got. When Charles took Adam out, you decided to get your hair done as well as a fresh set of nails with your girlfriends. You hadn’t seen your friends for a while, and it was really fun to be able to catch up with them, updating on whatever happened in each other’s lives. You smiled fondly as your thumb traced the picture of your son on your phone screen, showing off his little watch.

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"Hi, mommy!" Charles handed the little one a paper bag full of new dinosaurs with different shapes and sizes of boxes that were equally big as his frame after you opened the door.

"Look! Charlie bought me new toys!"

You gasped as you peeked inside the bag. "That’s a lot! Charles—"

"It’s okay. He only asked for one, but I wanted him to get the others as well because they are actually pretty cool. Right, Adam? There was this one that flipped its tail, like,”

"Ankylosaurus! The tail can actually move, mommy!” Adam interrupted, and his eyes sparkled with merriment.

"Yeah, whatever that rus was.” Charles scratched the back of his neck as he shrugged. He had given up trying to remember the name because, looking back, they all sounded the same. He was pretty sure he could just throw random words and end it with saurus, and he would get a new dinosaur’s name. While he was too busy recalling the names, you leaned in and left a peck on his cheek, which made him freeze.

"Thank you." You brought your gaze down and locked eyes with Adam as he giggled.

"I think Charlie really likes you, mommy!"

"Okay, buddy. There’s no need to say my feelings out loud.” He laughed as the little one ran to his room. The paper bag swayed and hit his body. "I hope I make his day.”

"Are you kidding? That’s all he’s going to talk about for the rest of the week.” You laughed along, and hands went on his chest as he pulled you closer.

"What did you do today? Did you do something to your hair?"

You brought your hands up and hovered them over your eyes. "I got my hair trimmed and my nails done. What do you think?"

"It’s pretty. Is pretty the right word to compliment nails?” He queried, brows knitted. "It compliments your beautiful eyes so much. Oh, I’ll be going back to Monaco tomorrow. Are you sure you don’t want to tag along until the next race? It’ll only be what, 4 days?

"No, I’m going to my parents’ house tomorrow. They haven’t seen Adam for a while. I’ll see you in the paddock?"

"Call me, alright?” Charles brushed his lips on your forehead and bended down as Adam ran back to his embrace. "See you in my next race, Adam."

"Bye, Charlie! I’ll take care of mommy for you!" He cupped Charles’ cheeks with his little hands.

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"I got it!” You heard Adam’s voice beat on you as he rushed to open the door.

You put your folded clothes aside and left the bedroom while he struggled to pull the big door with the doorbell ringing continuously.

"Daddy!" He managed to eagerly greet the adult before his little body was pushed aside as your ex-husband stamped inside with a scowl on his face.

"Fuck off. Where’s that bitch?"

"What is wrong with you?!” You howled and tried to walk past him to get to your son, who was on the floor, sobbing as he clutched his wrist.

"Me? What’s wrong with me, you asked? Tell me why my son’s face is all over the internet hanging out with a random guy. Are you fucking insane? Weren’t you the one who fucking begged to have full custody over him, and then what? You woke up one day leaving my fucking son with your douchebag just so you could what? Get these done?” He yanked your hair harshly as you yelped from the pain. "You trying to use all these to flirt your way just so you fill up that hole with fresh sticks?"

"Daddy, stop! You are hurting, mommy!” Adam stood back on and used every force to hit on your ex-husband’s leg just so he would let go of you.

"This isn’t about you! Fuck off, worthless.” He swung back his free arm and landed his hand on the flushed cheeks as Adam fell down on his bump.

"Leave him alone! Hit me all you want. Don’t touch him! Please.." You tugged on his arm back as you went in front to kneel down on the floor and cradled Adam’s head in your arms. His small arms immediately clung to your shirt as he hid his face away from his dad.

"Next time I’m seeing him hanging out with someone else, you’ll be dead. I’m still alive and capable enough to be his father. I don’t need someone else to take over my fucking role.” He gave your head a hard shove before he left as Adam wailed and whimpered in your arms. He had never cried this terrible before. He was trembling, even, that you had to calm him down until he fell asleep.

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"Where are you going?” Andrea curved his brow as the driver left the meeting right as it ended, without even sparing a glance at anyone else.

"I’m going to see Adam. He should have come and met me hours ago, but I don’t think I have seen him at all. I’ll be right back.” He took his phone and paced to the room where the kid would usually hang out with his colouring books.

Charles softly knocked on the door and waited for a response, which didn’t come. He then twisted the knob and took a step inside, where he saw Adam with the dinosaurs he bought for him a few days ago, all scattered on the table. Though the setting was normal, it was actually unusual because the kid didn’t call his name and didn’t come dashing into him as he usually did. Charles also didn’t get any candy from him today.

"Hey, Adam! What are you doing?” He took a spot next to the little one as Adam handed him one of the toys, one with a fierce-looking face.

"Hi, Charlie.. You can take this one.” Adam’s voice trailed off as he rested his chin on his forearm, completely ignoring the driver.

"What’s the name of this one?” The driver twisted the head of the dinosaur so it would be facing left before placing it on the table.

"That’s Spinosaurus.."

"Adam, what’s wrong?" Charles ruffled the toddler’s hair to get his attention, which was working as Adam whirled his head to look at Charles. "You are not wearing your watch! Where is it?"

"It’s in my bag.." Adam rubbed his eyes and turned around to look at his blue backpack that was placed on the couch.

"Go get it! Let me help you put it on.” He patted on the flushed cheeks as the kid scooted away from the table and he tottered to get his bag, the. took his spot back beside the driver with the backpack covering half of his face. Charles helped him to open the bag as the chubby little arm fished inside it to get the watch.

The driver’s eyes widen when he sees the state of the watch. The acrylic glass watch was cracked; a few bits of the glass at the corner were long gone, revealing little holes straight to the numbers and watch hands with a dinosaur picture. The watch wasn’t even working anymore. It was clearly dead, as it was still pointed at 12PM. “What happened to your watch, Adam?"

The little one didn't say anything, but he started wiping the back of his chubby hands against his cheeks as the tears started flowing down uncontrollably.

"Did you fall? What happened?"

"Daddy…" He struggled to form any words and started sobbing; his shoulders shook as he breathed in. Charles pulled the little arms away from the crimson face, tugging on it as Adam stood up so Charles could hold the trembling little frame in his arms. "Daddy.."

"Charles, you need to get ready.” Andrea peeked his head inside and closed the door back as he ran back to the garage.

"Adam—" Charles breathed out.

Adam pulled away and wiped his wet eyes with his forearms before the adult could continue his sentence. "Good luck, Charlie!” He managed to form a smile and make a little fist which was still a little shaky as he silently wept

"I’ll find you back in here after the practise round, alright?” He wiped off the stray tears and softly pinch on the cheeks, which made the little one giggle.

"Look!" He stumbled back to his little friends and arranged them all to face drivers, stopping time to time to wipe off the tears and clapped his hands as he was completely satisfied with the presentation. "They said good luck to you too!"

"I’ll definitely ace the practise round for you and your... um, rausus friends. Don’t cry, alright? See you, munchkin.”

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"Adam, we are going back, sweetheart.” You walked to him and kissed the crown of his head as you took his backpack.

"But," He stood up and filled his arms with the row of reptile toys as he tilted his head to look at you. "But Charlie asked me to wait for him, mommy."

"I thought you were hungry, love. We are going to eat.” You bent down so he could stuff his toys inside the backpack.

"It’s okay, I’m not hungry! I can wait for Charlie.” He gave a little thumbs up and chuckled when you laughed.

"Alright, then. We’ll wait for Charlie."

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"Charlie!" Adam squealed when Charles walked in, around half an hour after.

"Hi! Oh, you are all packed?” He ruffled Adam’s hair and smiled as his gaze landed on you on the couch.

"We are going to eat! Can Charlie join us, mommy?” His small hand was secured in Charles’ grip as he grinned cheekily at you.

"I can’t, Adam. I need to stay back a little while because I have things to do, but I’ll see you in a few hours. Is it okay?” He looked up to you, silently waiting for your approval, as he didn’t want to bother if you wanted to rest.

"Of course. I’m sure Adam doesn’t mind. Right, Adam?" The end of your mouth tilted as you looked at the little one while you took the lead, walking out of the room, followed by the boys.

"Yes! Oh! Charlie, were you fast?” Adam stopped walking as he waited for Charles’s answer.

"What do you mean? Ah, the practise round? Yeah! I got first place thanks to you."

"And my friends!” He jumped out of excitement; the sound of the toys shaking against each other could be heard as the backpack moved.

"Yeah! And you too.” Charles winked at you, which made you roll your eyes with a beam.

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"Hey, pretty. Mind if I take Adam out?” Charles went straight away with his question the minute you opened the door to your hotel room.

"Right now?" You blinked.

"Yeah, just for a while. We’ll be back before dinner. Just text me what you want to eat.” Friday wasn’t as packed as other days. He normally would stay in his room to take enough rest before another practise and qualifying round tomorrow, but he spent hours trying to find the closest store on Google, and the nearest was just a few minutes away so it would be a waste to miss this chance because he knew he wouldn’t be free by tomorrow, moreover on the actual race day.

"Adam?" You called out, opening the door a little wider.

"Yes, mommy?" Adam came running, his voice a little shaky from his wobbly cheeks.

"Charlie is taking you out for a while. Is it okay for you?” Your hand went to the back of his head as he hugged your leg. You saw his face light up as he waved at Charles.

"Okay!" He agreed right away and grasped Charles’ hand. "But where are we going?"

"Somewhere. Let’s go before it’s closed!"

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Charles looked down as he heard Adam giggled. "Charlie, look at that! The puppy is so cute!” He giggled again, and his steps became more leisure as he waited for the fluff to walk past him. "The tail was like,” He shook his free hand vigorously to imitate the tail, which made Charles throw his head back and laugh and they continued walking.

"Oh! There’s flowers!" He pointed at the flower shop in front of him, seemingly to be very intriguing to the little one, as he stopped and tugged on the driver’s hand. "Can I buy one, Charlie?"

"But what? The flowers?" Charles looked at the flower shop in front of him and back at the kid.

"I want to buy one for mommy! Oh, wait..." He patted his small hand against the pocket of his pants and pursed his lips. "I don’t have any money..”

"Let’s go." He took the lead and went into the shop as Adam looked around, looking amazed at the selections.

"Hi! How may I help you?” The florist greeted them, bending down to greet the little one.

"I want to buy flowers for mommy! She likes yellow!” Adam replied, his gaze followed the florist as she took a single sunflower from her left.

"I think your mom will like this one!"

"Yes! Charlie, can I get this one?” He looked up and swayed his little hand that was in Charles’ grip. "Please?"

"Can I get it in a bouquet, please?” The driver’s request was being done right away as she went to get a bunch of the flowers to get them wrapped up in craft paper.

"Please make it pretty too!” Adam added.

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Charles and Adam walked into the store as the driver greeted the owner, while the little one looked around with the bouquet in his arm that he insisted on holding.

"Hi. I texted you earlier regarding the item?” He came up to the counter while the owner got himself busy as he went to get the item that was mentioned.

Adam stayed silent, his hand still holding Charles’ as he softly sang what he believed was a dinosaur song while playing with his foot. “I'm a dinosaur, dinosaur! Oh, I am a dinosaur..." Charles had to bit his lips to hold his chuckle so he wouldn't interrupt the little performance and tilted his head back as the owner walked back with a small, square box.

"Would you like to try it first?"

"Yeah." He retrieved the watch and bent down, cutting off Adam’s little song. "Adam, try this one."

He looked down at what Charles had in his hand and squealed. "It’s a dinosaur watch! It’s a dinosaur watch! Is it for me?"

"Yeah! Let’s put it on you.” He hopped in place, unable to contain his excitement, while Charles secured the green-coloured, brand new watch around his plump wrist. "Do you like it?"

"Yes! Yes! It looks like a stegosaurus!” He pointed at the frame, which sort of looked like the plates of the dinosaurs.

"That’s what I thought too. I just couldn’t remember the name of the dinosaur.” He stopped Adam’s little hand as he tried to take it off in order for him to put it back in the box. "It’s okay. Just keep on wearing it. You look handsome, munchkin.” He the continued with the bills as they walked out to the final place of the day to get some takeout for dinner.

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"Hi! Did you have fun? You moved your head away from getting hit in the face with the plastic that was wrapped around the flower bouquet that your little one was holding.

"Mommy, look! I bought this for you! Oh, Charlie did.” You took the flowers as he hugged your neck.

"Nah, he bought it himself. I should definitely step up my flirting game.” Charles walked inside after you and locked the door as Adam and you settled on the cosy couch.

"It’s so pretty, sweetheart! It’s mommy’s favourite colour too.” You hugged the bouquet in your arms and pecked at his little cheeks, as the green coloured thing that was secured on his wrist caught your attention. "Oh? What’s that?" You asked, taking his left arm closer to you.

"Oh! Charlie gave me this new watch! It’s so pretty, mommy! Look!" He seemed to remember about the watch now only when you pointed it out, so it was his turn to carry on the conversation. "It has dinosaurs at the back and here too! He pointed at the green dinosaur by the strap and squealed.

You looked at Charles as he stared at Adam lovingly, which made you smile, before focusing back on his little chat.

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"Is he asleep? He scooted a little to the side so you would get comfortable in his arms. He had left you to tuck Adam in while he played around with the remote control, switching from channels to channels as he waited for you to come back.

"Yeah." You rested your head on his chest after you made yourself comfortable on the couch, eyes staring at the television. You felt his hand on your back as he leaned his cheek against your hair. "I don’t think I could ever pay back everything you did to him."

"I’m not doing it just so I could get something back in return, love. Don’t be silly.” He then went silent for a while, wondering if this was the perfect time to bring up the topic. "Why didn’t you tell me what happened?"

You breathed in, knowing he would bring it up sooner or later after Adam told you he cried in front of the driver earlier. “It was a few days away from the weekend. I didn’t want you to worry about something else when your focus should be on your career." You looked up and saw him look in dismay at your words. "I’m sorry."

"There’s no need to argue about something that has happened.” His hand cupped on your cheek as he dipped his head to kiss your forehead. "I called my lawyer to ask him to get you a restraining order against him. Perhaps this way it will be easier for you instead of waiting for a response from the authority."

"But—"

"I’m not taking a no this time, Y/N. He told me he would need you to fill out a few forms as well as physical evidence; can you do that?” He gave your shoulder a squeeze as you sat up straight to look at him.

"Yeah… I do keep some evidence from his text messages and police report, but Charles, I don’t think I could afford to pay your lawyer.”

He frowned as he tilted your chin up. "Did I even say anything about money? All I said was forms and evidence, Y/N."

"But you had done more than enough. I can’t—"

"Okay, then be my girlfriend.”

"What?" Your words were stuck in your throat as you looked at him in disbelief.

"That’s the only way I’ll accept a payment from you. Be my girlfriend when we get all these things settled."

"Silly." You scrunched your nose, hand went to pinch on his cheek as he laughed before pulling you to lay down with him and spend the rest of the night without having to worry about a dinosaur’s name.

“You know what, I kept on humming Adam’s dinosaur song. I think it’s stuck in my head. Do you happen to know the full song?”

“I can send you the video with lyrics?”

✧.* general tag list! @i83andrew @cltrlne @karmabyfernando @ohthemisssery @ru-kru @tastebaldwin @f1obessed @love4lando @shinrjj @ietss @leclerc13 @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @xcinnamongirl @boiohboii @formula1mount @judespoision @alwaysclassyeagle @scenesofobx @mrsmaybank13 @vildetry06 @harriesgolden

✧.* tag list for p.2 @mrsmaybank13 @xjval @coffeewhore18 @ireallywannasleep127

If your usernames were crossed, meaning I can’t tag you! Let me know if you would like to be removed or to be added to the tag list! Or if I missed anyone!

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 imagines #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fluff

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itostea · 4 months

Text

my first & last love (gojo x reader)

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

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.

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.

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.”

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.”

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.

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.

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.

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #satoru gojo #gojo satoru x reader #jjk #fluff #angst #satoru x reader #satoru x you

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help-itrappedmyself · 3 months

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Danny Punches a Clown part 2 I guess

shoutout to @that-random-fangirl

Masterpost

The batmobile pulls into the batcave as usual once they’re done dealing with the Joker’s hostage situation, but no one is celebrating at a job well done tonight. Because while the Joker is back in Arkham, for now, it wasn’t one of them that stopped him. While the rest of them dealt with the goons downstairs, Batman went up to where the Joker was supposed to be hiding out with the kids, only to find him on the floor with a growing bruise on his face. The kids were nowhere to be seen.

So, Batman sweeped the room, making note of a video that was still recording on the computer. Probably a taunt for him that the Joker never got to release. He pulled all the files from the computer and brought them with him when he left.

The police arrived, the civilians were taken care of, but none of them had any idea what happened in the room the Joker was in. Apparently none of them heard anything, despite the fact the Joker had a gun with him no shots were fired. And none of them knew what happened to the kids.

So the family gathered around the batcomputer to try and find out what had happened. They rewound the video back to the beginning, hoping to at least find out if the kids were okay.

The video opened to the Joker being his usual self, holding his gun, looking like he hadn’t yet gotten punched in the face.

“ Bats! Wonderful to see me isn’t it? I know it's been too long, and I’ve got some presents for you!” Joker turns the camera to show three kids, two no older than six, both blonde and terrified, and one that could be a teenager, probably around twelve to thirteen with black hair and looking bored. The camera swings back to the Joker after a moment. “ Of course, I have a bunch of adults too, but these little kiddos are just for you! I have such plans for them bats!”

“Hey, crazy clown?” They hear, coming from one of the children. Joker stops ranting to look past the computer, probably at the kid who’s speaking and the bats all look at each other in disbelief.“ Look, I’m sure you have some sort of reason for all this hostage-taking and gun-waving, probably even for dressing like that.”

“ Oh, this kid is insane.” Tim mutters.

“ However, I already have one fruitloop in my life and that is more than enough for me, so I’m going to have to leave now.”

The Joker starts laughing, he bends over and wraps his arms around his stomach laughing his normal cackle that has most of the room cringing. They watch as the child, the older one, walks right up to the Joker, who is still laughing, and punches him in the face.

They watch in silence as the Joker falls limp to the floor. Jason whistles. Then the boy turns more toward the camera, but really towards the children as he starts talking to them and they see him fully for the first time. Black hair, blue eyes, looks exhausted and he just punched the Joker in the face. The kids look amongst each other for a moment, all thinking the same thing, before turning back to the screen to see the boy, this tiny boy who called the Joker ‘crazy clown’ and punched him in the face helping the other kids escape out the window.

“ Bruce, no.” Dick mutters. “ We don’t even know who this kid is.”

“ This kid just knocked out the Joker in one punch, if Bruce doesn’t nab him, I will.” Jason states.

Everything devolves into arguing from there, all the kids shouting amongst themselves arguing either for or against the adoption of the kid. It goes on for a while before Bruce speaks up.

“ Let’s just find the kid first.” Bruce says, He’s already pulled up facial recognition and is chatting with Oracle about the CCTV footage by the warehouse. “ All of you go get some rest, I’m going to go see if I can track him.”

“ Hey! If you’re going back out, we’re going back out!” Dick complains. “ We’re concerned about the kid too.”

Bruce starts to argue with him, but is cut off by the sound of motorcycles as Jason and Tim start to head back out, already talking to Oracle about where to start. Dick heads out after them and Damian goes to sit in the batmobile, waiting. Bruce heaves a sigh before climbing in after him.

“ Okay, Oracle what do we have?” Batman asks.

“ I was able to track him into an alley, but nothing after that.”

Now with part 3!

#dcxdp #dc x dp crossover #batman #danny phantom #my writing #I have no idea where this is going really #it has no ending #just middle ideas #dp x dc

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messylustt · 11 months

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౨ৎ ‧˚

𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥) — 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐡𝐞𝐦

miguel o’hara x fem!reader. a lot of words.

fic masterlist previous part pt eight next part

violence + blood + injuries; making out; suggestive content; my god whew — miguel’s hand raises to…what? you don’t know, because the spider society’s alarm bell is ringing. mayhem, fire, fights…masked men. you only want to help. when miguel confronts you about your ‘help’ clearly displaying anger and well…worry, something unexpected happens…you both getting as close as you did before…maybe closer?

You’re still staring at Miguel, staying close. Closer than you probably should be. And just as his hand reaches up to…to what? What was he going to do?

Because now the alarms are sounding. Followed by the cries of spider-people. You quickly whip your head to the door. And at first Miguel doesn’t look away from you. As if the word ‘emergency’ isn’t registering in his brain. No. He keeps his eyes on you, his lifted hand having to drop away as you rush to the door.

Miguel clenched his jaw, cursing the whole idea of having an ‘emergency bell’.

You’ve reached the door and then the hallway seeing mayhem. Everyone is running (or more so webbing) around, as a fire had started in the centre.

Miguel is soon joining you, just as you spot Miles and Hobie running up. “There you are, mate.” Hobie sighs in relief, grabbing your shoulders as he goes to move you.

“Wh-“ You look around. “What’s going on?”

Miguel narrows his eyes on Hobie’s hands. He knows now’s really not the time to feel petty, but part of him wants to break his ringed fingers. Hobie moves you with him further down the hallway. “If they recognise ya, they’ll wanna kill ya, luv. So, let’s maybe go…ay?”

Your eyes widen. “Kill?! What? Why?”

Miles is hot on both your heels. Miguel not far behind him. Then Miguel notices Miles, brows slightly furrowing. “Why are you here?” He asks, making Miles glance back.

“Uh…I was invited.” He says slowly.

“Uh huh.” He eyed the kid. “By who? Gwen?”

Miles gulps at the look Miguel is giving him. “Yeah…”

“Mm.” Miguel hums, looking distasteful as he walks past Miles, catching up to you and Hobie. “Now we’re letting anyone in?” He mutters to himself with a small scoff.

“Hobie, what happened?” You ask, as he continues to move you, his grip staying on your shoulders. He brings you to the tech room, it appearing empty. You look behind you at the way you came. “I didn’t know you could get here through there.” You mutter.

“Lyla.” You hear Miguel say, her appearing by his shoulder. “What is this?” Though the look Miguel is displaying makes you feel as though he already knows.

“An attack on HQ.” Lyla says, beginning to tap away at her little screens.

“Okay, there are way too many of them.” You hear Pav say, running into the room.

“We held them off as much as we could.” Gwen is close behind. “But their strong. Like freaky strong.”

“Y/n!” Pav exclaims, bringing you in for a hug.

“Oh—“ You weren’t expecting the hug, everything happening so fast, as you slowly pat his back.

“Where were you?” He sounds concerned.

“I was just…” you drift off, licking your lips. “Gwen, whose really strong?” You quickly look to her.

“You remember the men who attacked last time? The one’s with the masks?” Gwen asks, to which you slowly nod, catching on.

“They’re back?” You ask. Gwen nods.

“But they look different.” Gwen’s says—her having seen the ones who attacked you and the tech room when they were in pools of their own blood, curtesy of Miguel. “They’re…”

“Bigger.” You mutter, picturing the masked men that were in Miles’ universe. “Better suits? Strangely taller?” You ask her.

“Yeah…”

“They’ve upgraded.” You mutter.

“Which means they aren’t here for a tiny thief job.” Miguel says, walking past you all to one of the only computers that didn’t get smashed. He pauses though, licking his teeth, as he mutters rather quietly. “Does anyone know the password?”

You hold back your amused smile, as you walk up to the computer. You lean down, tapping at the keyboard. The screen glitches a little, but for the most part it works.

“You’re looking for the security cameras right?” You ask Miguel, still staring at the screen. Lyla was clearly too busy to compute it, so you tap at more keys, bringing up roughly twenty different security camera images.

You zoom in on the middle three, displaying the fire and the masked men. Miguel leans over the desk beside you, staring at the screen. “They started the fire by smashing the tech there.” You point to a far spot on the screen, noticing the destroyed screens and machines.

Everyone had begun to surround the computer. “Why do they want to destroy tech?” Pav ask, as you shift your gaze to Miguel.

His gaze is focused on the screen, and more specifically on one specific ‘masked man’ . You narrowed your gaze on him. Where had he gone earlier? Has he met this guy? How does he recognise him? They all look the same to you.

Green woven—now metal—suits, but still those handmade masks…except now with added metal elements scattered randomly. “Miguel.” You say, making him shift his gaze to you.

You tilt your head, silently communicating that you know somethings up. The raise of your brows asks him why he isn’t voicing anything.

Miguel’s teeth are grinding as he stares at you, silently communicating back. You narrow your eyes upon understanding his expression as one showing he’s not going to voice anything. If he doesn’t have to anyway.

Hobie stares at you two for a moment, blinking. “Can you two read each others minds now? Is that what we’ve been missin’?”

You shift your gaze to Hobie, who’s standing, arms crossed. Then a rather loud scream makes all your heads whip to the computer. A masked man is holding up a spider-person by the throat. But what makes you want to puke is the way his claw is beginning to stab into the spiders chest and running down, tearing skin and other bodily flesh.

Hobie, Gwen, Pav, and Miles are quick, rushing out of the room and assumably to the lobby, where the guy’s screams are easily heard. Other spider-people are trying to fight back, but the masked men seem to be knocking them down a little too easily. How are they doing that so easily?

You swiftly turn your gaze to the screen, eyes darting, as your chest heaved. “One of them took it, Miguel.” Lyla says, making you shift your gaze to him.

He’s moving away, most likely to get to the action to help as well. He meets your gaze. “Don’t you dare move.” He warns, before he’s slipping through the secret entry.

What did Lyla say? One of the masked men took what? You look back to the computer, wincing every time a spider-person got hit. Hard. You take note of one guy, his hits extra painful to watch—the one Miguel was staring at. You wanted to help. You wished you could help.

Then you hear the shuffle of metal making you spin. But your heart slows upon seeing Peter and Mayday. Wait…mayday?!

You rush forward, seeing Peter’s frantic expression. “Y/n, Thank god. I didn’t—I didn’t know what to do.” He gesturing to Mayday.

“Peter why is she here?!” You’re extremely worried.

“I didn’t know an attack was gonna happen! I would have left her home.” He’s looking behind him, clearly knowing he has to help, but still holding tightly onto an unbothered, babbling Mayday.

You quickly grab her, pulling her into your arms. “Go.” You say. “They need you out there. Go.”

Peter looks hesitant, and you understand why. “I’ll hide.” You say, knowing he’s skeptical because you’re well…human and could barely fight back against those men. Especially if spider variants are getting knocked out.

“They won’t find me. They won’t find her.” You hold Mayday close to you, as she rests her head on your shoulder, her smile still present.

Then Peter is nodding. He trusts you. He knows you’re not one to be stupid. “Go.” You say again, and he moves, rushing out towards the action.

Your heart is beating on overdrive. Holding Mayday tightly, you turned back to the screen. None of your friends were knocked out, injured or…dead. But just as you go to find somewhere to hide—as you had promised, you noticed something.

A small machine, with a switch, it’s almost unseeable through the screen, but you catch it. That isn’t the spider-society’s tech. That’s from the masked men.

No. It suddenly clicks. Why all the spider-people were getting knocked out easy, why they could never sense when a masked man was l close. It was as if someone switched off their spider-sense and strength.

You felt Mayday lean away, using her own spider webs to attach to a farther desk, yanking you along the ground. “Mayday.” You hold her back. Now was not the time. Why did Peter give her her own webs?

You rip the web, pulling her back. “Mayday.” You say making your look at you, hair curling around her face. “You have to stay still. Okay? Just stay in my arms. Then how bout we play a game after?”

Her face lights up. You’d played these games with her, the main two being learning fun handshakes, and the other was hide and seek. “Alright?” You ask gently. She excitedly jumps in your arms. “You gotta stay still, though.” She stills, wrapping her arms around your neck.

You sigh, turning back to the screen. You can spot Gwen looking confused, clearly feeling the effects of not having a spider-sense. Then you spot Miguel. He seems unaffected by the change, noticing the masked men a lot quicker than the other spider people. Then you shift your gaze back to the switch.

The spider variants didn’t know. Shit, shit, shit. You had said you’d hide, to keep Mayday safe. But you can’t just do…nothing. Then you decide something incredibly stupid, like beyond a seeable level of stupid that could turn out terribly.

But you had to try. Because they weren’t winning out there. You pull Mayday away, making sure she caught your gaze. “Okay, Mayday…we’re gonna a play a game now. How’s that?”

She nods quickly, clapping her hands. “Alright…you remember hide and seek?”

She again nods at you, slightly playing with your hair. “I’m gonna count. And you’re gonna hide. Somewhere good. Really good.”

She begins to try and get out for yours arms, eager to play. “Mayday. Find somewhere really good.” She’d always been very good at choosing a hard hiding place. It always took you forever to find her. And you were counting on that.

Then you reluctantly let her go. You wouldn’t be long. You wouldn’t be. “One…” you pretend to cover your eyes, as you watch her waddle away through the cracks between your fingers.

You were stressed. This plan couldn’t go wrong. You wouldn’t let it. “Two…”

You were gonna reach that switch. “Three…”

And now you can’t see Mayday, knowing what direction she ran in, and roughly where she had hid, so that you could rush back to her. You had to be quick.

You ran towards the secret exit, grabbing a loose pipe. You’d rather go out there with a weapon. Loud sounds reach your eardrums when you made it outside the room, but you continued to run.

You couldn’t slow, or take your time. You rushed past spiders, thankful none are noticing you. Just stay unnoticed—you keep repeating to yourself. You reached the middle of the mayhem. And god was it hectic.

You couldn’t let Peter see you. You couldn’t let Miguel see you. You couldn’t let any of them see you. It’s as if you never came here. You ran, skirting past broken tables and machines.

Everything felt hot, the fire still partially there. You held back a scream as a tumbling, fighting duo nearly barrelled into you—it managed to knock away your pipe, but you couldn’t stop to dwell. The switch, the switch, the switch.

You slid to your knees, rushing under a table. You’ve almost gotten punched, and you’re sure a cut is bleeding. But you run, you can now see the switch, and also your friends. They look terrible.

You grit your teeth moving quicker. You’re so close. And just as you think relief is near, a body hits you, knocking you down. You wince, looking up to see a masked man. He tilts his head, blood coating his entire claw along with his suit.

You shuffle back along the floor, trying to get to your feet. But his boot comes down onto your chest, making you wheeze. “Aren’t you that chick who got away?”

“Different chick.” You wheeze out, scrabbling to get his foot off you.

“Nah, I remember the poster they put up in the lab. Your face is recognisable.” He presses harder against your chest. Your hand scrambles to the side, against the dirty floor. Find something. Anything.

Your hand finally clasps around a loose peice of metal. You tighten your hold, the sharpness cutting your palm. You swing your arm across, stabbing it into the guy’s calf.

It goes in deep, resulting in him lessening his boots hold. You manage to roll away, swiftly getting to your feet. He goes to lunge for you again, but your arm shoots out in a punch, right across his face. He stumbles slightly back.

But you seem to be more hurt then him. “Mother fu—“ you hiss, holding your now bruised knuckles. “Shit…why did I do that?” You mutter to yourself.

But you try not to dwell on the pain as you run past him and the others, finally reaching the switch. One hand is bloody while the other is bruised and you’ve never felt more relieved. You push the switch, a small whirring sound reaching your ears.

Then suddenly you catch sight of all the spider-people’s spider-senses turning back on, practically animated. But your relieved smile drops as practically all the masked men shift there gaze to you. Shit.

With all the turned heads, you catch Hobie’s turn as well. His spider-sense now taking note of you. His eyes widen in a mix of confusion, worry and anger? Wow you’ve never really seen him angry before.

Miguel takes note of you now as well now, as you shift your gaze to him, pressing your lips together as you breathe through your nose. Miguel’s expression is downright terrifying. You watch as he snaps one the masked men’s necks as he moves towards you.

You gulp, noticing some of the masked men move to you as well. You swiftly grab the small switch machine, and begin to back out of the room, or at least try to.

And just as a claw reaches for your face, an orange web yanks you aside, nearly making you tumble, but a tight hand wraps around your upper arm. “What the fuck are doing here?” Miguel lowly hisses out.

“Miguel— I have to go.” Mayday. You had to get to Mayday.

“No, no you can’t just go anywhere. You were already practically an enemy to these guy, but oh now they want to kill you.” He says this while slicing his claws across one of the guys throats—having tilted his head back to display the guys bare neck.

“Miguel.” You hiss. “Let go. I have to go.” You rush these words out.

But Miguel didn’t want to let go. You were bleeding, bruised, and almost dead. “Why didn’t you stay put? Why didn’t you stay goddamn put?” He growls.

You’re breathing hard. You had to go, and you didn’t have the time to explain. So you do the best thing you can think of. “I’m sorry about this...”

Your hand had reached for something on the a table, a plate, another peice of metal, whatever it was you knock it across his face. Not to cut, or harm, just so that his grip would loosen around your arm.

And it does, leaving you room to run. And god did you run—fast. You skirted past fighting people, the spider variants finally knocking some of the masked men down, now that the switch was off.

You reached the secret entrance, rushing into the tech room. You kept the switch machine close to you as you rushed to Mayday’s hiding place. You tried to slow your breathing, not wanting to freak her out. You wiped your bloody hand on your pants, wincing as your cut rubs against the material.

You didn’t want to scare her.

You reach the small cupboard type thing, having to lift yourself up. She had clearly webbed herself towards it. But with you being taller than her you managed. You took a breath. Pretending that you had been playing the entire time.

“Oh, Mayday.” You sing songed quietly. “I wonder where you are?”

You neared the closed cupboard door, hearing a faint giggle. You sigh in relief at the fact that she’s still here. You whip the doors open and you hear a small squeak. You scoop her up.

“Found you.” You said softly, earning now huffing giggles from her. She was okay. She was okay.

But then your heart drops. You hear heavy scuffing boots enter the room. No. Please no. Without thinking you rush into the cupboard, shutting the door.

Mayday begins to babble on about something, but you put her head into your neck. “Shh.” You shakily whisper. “Shh.” You stroke her hair. She moves a little, but luckily she begins to relax in your arms.

You can hear the taunting boots near. And you hold your hand over your mouth, quieting your heavy breathing. Please stay quiet Mayday, please stay quiet—you think to yourself, holding her closer to you, as you slide to the floor of the cupboard. It only just fit you both.

Then the door is getting harshly pulled open and your eyes widen. No, no, no. But then just as the masked man comes into view, his body is getting harshly lifted, his feet raising as blood bleeds out from his stomach. Your eyes widen.

Then he falls to the side, revealing a heaving Miguel. Your head knocks back against the cupboard back wall, as you hold Mayday tighter to you. You couldn’t let her see. Any of the blood, you wouldn’t let her see.

Miguel meets your gaze, just as Hobie, Pav, Gwen, Miles and Peter rush to a stop beside him, all staring into the cupboard.

You begin to shakily stand, still holding onto Mayday for dear life. You were scared. Your adrenaline slowly disappearing.

Peter rushes forward taking Mayday from you. He notices there isn’t a scratch on her and Peter is beyond relieved. “Make sure she doesn’t…see.” You say, sounding somewhat out of it as you blink, so your eyes would stay open.

Then Hobie is slipping his arm around your midriff, supporting your legs, as you gulped down arising tears. You wouldn’t cry. Not in front of everyone.

“What the hell was that?” For once there is no joke in Hobie’s tone.

Your eyes a blurring, but you wanted to stay awake. You hated how much your body could exhaust. “You were supposed to stay up here.” Miguel is saying, his breathing still heavy.

You know that you arriving back to the tech room, alerted that now dead masked man of where you were.

For once Miguel doesn’t mind that Hobie is holding you. He’s helping you. And though Miguel would rather help you, his hands are covered in blood—Hobie having used his surroundings and web to mainly fight them, his hands being rather clean from the red.

You half heartedly chuckle. “You can just say thanks.” You meet his gaze, a small smile edging your lips.

“Are they…” You drift off, Gwen filling in.

“They left. They aren’t dead. Some of them are. But the others…left.” She says, making you nod.

“Thank god.” You mutter out, the pain finally feeling like it can catch up to you. “And fuck…” You slightly push off of Hobie, shaking your bruised hand. “When were any of you gonna tell me that punching someone really fuckin’ hurts.”

“Well, usually punching someone with a metal head tends to hurt.” Pav says, raising his brows slightly.

“Eh.” You chuckle, continuing to flex your hand.

;;

Miguel didn’t leave your side when you went to medical, you getting stitched, and mended.

“Don’t sleep in here.” He says, gazing around at practically every spider person. The medical was of course packed.

“But the fire reached my room—“

“Not mine.” Miguel says, already slipping his arms around your body—though he keeps his hands, for the majority, off of you. His hands were still covered in blood, though dry, meaning the blood wouldn’t taint you, he still couldn’t.

“That’s fine—“

“Shut up, and move.” Miguel wasn’t looking for your acceptance, taking you to his room.

;;

Once inside, he shuts the door, leading you to sit on his bed. As you did, he had slightly begun to pace the length of his room.

“What are you doing?” You ask, watching his stressful state. “Can you stop?”

He shifts his gaze to you, semi stopping. His body was still tense, his jaw clenched. “Sit.” You say, gesturing to the chair. You narrow your gaze until he obeys, moving the chair to face you, as he took a seat.

Glass still slightly littered the ground, the slight scratch marks on the chair staying easily visible.

You noticed for a moment that he couldn’t look at you. His gaze instead getting caught up with his wrist. You glanced down at it, noticing a thin…bracelet? It was covered in blood, and he had begin to fiddle with it, making your brows furrow.

“What’s that?” You ask. But he still doesn’t meet your gaze, clenching his hand into a fist.

“Nothing.” He says. But it wasn’t nothing of course. It was your bracelet, the one he had found in your rooms doorway, back in your universe when you had went missing.

“I didn’t know you were one to wear jewellery.” You speak light heartedly. But he barely reacts. “Miguel.” You say, sighing. “Can you at least look at me?”

And it’s the slight sadness in your voice that makes him. He looks up and you’re shocked to see a million different emotions swirling in his eyes.

“Why did you do that?” He asks, now not looking away from your eyes.

“What?”

“That.” He hisses lowly. “You were supposed to stay in the tech room.”

“Miguel you do realise that I couldn’t have just stood there and literally watched…right?” You ask, seeing his gaze flicker everywhere on your face. “I saw something important, and thought i should help.”

“But you shouldn’t have.” He says.

“Yes, I should have…” You stand up now. Miguel moves to stand also, but you hold your hand out, making sure he stayed seated. “I want to help Miguel. I want to be of help.”

“Yeah, well you being of help nearly got you killed.” He snarls.

“Exactly the same as all of you.” You say, stepping closer to his seated self. “You guys go through so much dangerous stuff all the time. And finally when I can actually help you hate me for it.”

“Because you’re—“

“A weak human, yeah I got it. But I wanted to help. And It worked…none of you guys are dead!” You exclaim, breathing heavy.

Miguel stares up at you, his breathing close to matching yours.

“That is all I’ve ever wanted to do, Miguel.” You say. “Help.”

“You almost died out there.” His voice had begun to soften.

“And so did you!” Yours hasn’t yet, though.

He couldn’t resist. Slipping his hand under your thigh he pulled you towards him, making your body tumble. He caught you by a second grip on your other thigh, making sure you landed in a straddle over his lap. His legs were still a fraction spread, which made yours naturally spread further around him. This satisfied Miguel’s want to keep those legs spread. Wide and open for him.

He pulled you even closer, your body sliding along his thighs, right up against him. Your heart was beating like a drum in your ears. You couldn’t think. You couldn’t speak. All you could do was breathe and stare. Stare at Miguel’s piercing red eyes that now practically told you everything he hadn’t voiced yet.

Miguel stared at you, his eyes seeming to hood over on their own. You were yet again, so close. He could taste your breath. And he wanted to. God did he want to.

He’s sure it would taste so sweet. You would taste so fucking sweet. His clawed hands stayed wrapped around your thighs, as he began to lean in, his eyes focused on your freshly wet lips, your nervous habit. You were nervous. He met your gaze once more, before darting his eyes down again. He couldn’t stop leaning in.

Your heart has stopped, having been beating rapidly in your ears. You want to gulp down your nervousness but Miguel is now so close to your neck.

His warm breath fans over your skin as his mouth opens a fraction. His hands ran up your body, to grip around your waist. Then he leaned in, his lips attaching to the side of your neck. You heard him hum, the vibrations sending shivers up your spine.

His hands begun to slip under your shirt, the feel of your bare skin making him go practically insane. He couldn’t believe it. He began to slowly litter small kisses—at first—his breathing growing heavier and heavier.

Your chest was heaving as he pulled you tighter to him, his lips now pressing harder against your skin. When they turned open-mouthed you could feel the drag of his fangs, his tongue coming down to soothe forming bruises.

Your head had begun to roll back, your hands tightly gripped onto Miguel’s shoulders. “I couldn’t let you die, cariño.” He whisper-groaned into your neck. His panting breath only occasionally felt, because he couldn’t back away from your skin.

His kisses began to lead up to your jaw. You were flushed, your body hot, everywhere. “Miguel—“ you breathe out.

“Shh, I just wanna…I just…” but he couldn’t even finish the sentence as he reached to hover over your lips. His hand slipped to the back of your neck, his claws embedding themselves into your hair, as his other hand tightened a fraction around your waist.

Now you’re breathing hard, your eyes slightly glazed over, your mind utterly dazed as you stared at Miguel. “I just want to…”

You gulp. “Want to what?” You quietly asked, your own eyes flickering to his lips.

“I— carajo.” Was the last word he managed before his lips found yours, your head knocking back. Miguel wrapped his lips around your bottom, breathy groans easily escaping him, as he pulled you impossibly closer. His heart was beating on overdrive, nearly at a concerning tempo as he lapped at your mouth.

And god did you taste sweet. So fucking sweet. And he gets to feel you—have you. He doesn’t have a care in the world as long as you stayed this close. Right against him letting him keep you this close. Your tongue dragged across his bottom lip, soon finding his tongue. His head moved to push further against yours, as he swirled his tongue around your mouth.

Then your body slightly jolts. His hand that was gripping your waist had tightened to a point that his claws had cut you a fraction. Miguel immediately let your waist go, realising that his body’s reaction—tightening around you, was to make sure you wouldn’t leave. “I’m—“

But you’re cutting him off with another kiss, slightly raising on your knees, so that his head had to tilt up to stay kissing you. His hands slipped to wrap around your raised thighs. “Tell me you weren’t gonna apologise.” You spoke to his lips, leaning away a fraction.

But Miguel eagerly chased your mouth, managing to pull your head back down, with a swift grip to your hair. “Miguel—“

He shook his head, his lips brushing against yours. “If I say no, will you keep kissing me?” He tilted his head, lips still lightly brushing yours, as his tongue came out to lick your top lip. “Mm?”

“Yea—“ but Miguel cuts you off, kissing you hard as one of his hands stoked up and down your thigh. “Then I’m not sorry at all.” He muttered between kisses. He was addicted. That’s the simplest way to put it. Utterly addicted. “Dios…I’m not sorry.”

Your hands slipped around his neck, beginning to play with the ends of his brown hair, your fingers soon sinking to softly grip the strands. A breathy moan escapes Miguel’s lips at the feeling of your fingers, his mouth opening against your own. A small forming smile edged your lips at the reaction.

“Shut up.” He whispered, smashing his lips back to yours. His kisses had grown even more heated—if possible—spreading across your cheek, his nose brushing against your hair. “Dios, y/n, can I touch you…mm por favor…?” He asks, trying to pull your thighs back down onto him.

But you held your own, staying just out of reach—legs either side of him on the chair. When Miguel would much rather you pressed against him. Of course he was hard, aching almost painfully. “Y/n.” He lowly growled out.

You grabbed his chin, lifting his head up, as you teasingly pecked his lips. “I’ve never seen you beg, give me a moment to enjoy it.”

Miguel clenched his jaw as he harshly pulled your thighs further apart, making you gasp, landing right on top of him. He moved his hands to your hips, keeping you still, as his head slightly leant back at the feeling. “Mm…that’s it…” He whispered out.

You could feel his bulge right under you, making your core ache. Now you felt hot. And as you looked at a breathless Miguel, his chest heaving mismatched you couldn’t help but begin to slightly move your hips.

Miguel’s breathing hitches, his hands gripping your waist. “Y/n…”

“Shh.” You partially mocked, earning a small growl from Miguel. “Didn’t you say I had to do anything for you?” You moved your hips along him, grinding torturously. “This seems like it would certainly help.” Your tone is breathy, as your hips movements sends jolts through you both.

“For a…mission.” Miguel remembers the start of the deal—the conversation—correcting you, through heavy breaths. God, what were you doing…keep doing it.

“Which loosely means for you.” You copy his previous words.

His head slightly falls back. “Mierda, cariño…”

You go to place your hands on his chest, when his head comes back up, his grip slipping from your waist to your hips and managing to stop you. He leans towards your ear. “But do you really think I’m gonna let you grind on me like that? Make me pathetically reach my high with clothes…still on?”

Your breathing hitches. His hand reaches up your shirt again, but pauses by the side of your waist. Then before you know it, Miguel’s holding your thighs—wrapped around him—as he stands. You quickly wrap your hands around his neck thinking you would fall.

Miguel chuckles at the reaction, instead, effortlessly walking with you towards his bed. He leans forward, resting you down as his hands came to cage you in. You’re resting on your elbows, pushing a little higher up. Miguel leans even more forward, so that you’re forced to lean back with him.

“Lie back…eso es (that’s it)…that’s ma’ girl.” Miguel breathes, as your head rests back against his sheets. My girl. His girl. All of Miguel’s previous loud voices, the ones that had quietened when you hugged him have become one. Repeating the words—my girl, my girl, my girl.

my god, that was a trip. and finallyyyy! AHHH — I hope this is what you guys expected and hope you all liked it

I promise promise promise, I will carry on this smut on the next part <33 it was just getting so long—I couldn’t stop writing (I’m sorry guys I gotta keep eedging ya)

plus since it’s the last part (part 9) next, everything will be concluded, and all mysteries solved! coz that’s just plain cruel if I utterly leave you guys hanging

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tenelkadjowrites · 9 months

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Attention - Seonghwa x Reader (NSFW)

🤳 Summary: Your attraction to Hwa, a camboy you enjoy watching late at night, unexpectedly spills into the real world.

🤳 Word count: 17.5k

🤳 Genre & warnings: smut one shot. camboy seonghwa with inexperienced reader. fem pronouns for reader. depictions of cigarette smoking. jerking off. biting, reader receiving. oral sex, both reader receiving and giving. messy blowjob with some gagging. 69. reader swallows. lots of dirty talk, reader is called "whore", "slut", and "good girl". fingering. pussy spanking. choking, reader receiving. unprotected sex. creampie.

this fic is not meant to represent seonghwa in any way, shape or form.

Snuggling down into your bed clutching your phone, you turn on your side and look at the time. It’s late, past midnight. You should be sleeping but you’re wired, too awake from work. The blueish glow of your phone casts a translucent tint to your skin.

You’re scrolling through Instagram but you know where you really want to go. Even though you’re entirely alone, you still are embarrassed while closing out of the app and bringing up the site. There is something tinged with desperation every time you go to his page. The feeling is even worse if you spend money; come morning, you scold yourself, the same lecture every single time about needing to go get laid or find a guy nearby to at least have a good time with.

At least it would be better than throwing money at a cam boy, you argue, and cheaper to boot. Yet the promise never seems to stick. Sure, you might go a week, even two, before you end up on his page. But you always crack and crawl back.

You aren’t even sure if he would be live tonight. But it’s Friday night and the chances are higher than usual that he might be. Some part of you hopes that he is, the other part of you dreads it. You ignore both emotions, navigating to his page and clicking on it.

The profile loads – catboyhwa1117 – and there is a tiny green dot in the corner of his photo, indicating he is live. Your heart skips a beat while entering the stream.

It connects, the picture is grainy for a few seconds and then snaps into clarity.

“No, it’s supposed to rain tonight,” Hwa is saying in that deep familiar voice of his, “Supposed to rain all weekend.”

He’s outside, going for a walk, most likely to grab a cigarette because he’s said before his roommate doesn’t want any smoking in the apartment. It’s too dark to make his face out but you can see the outline of the buildings behind him with their small windows glowing like fireflies in the dark.

“Wait, I’m gonna stop here cuz the café is closed,” He says and there is a shuffling of his phone, a blur of streetlights and then it comes to a rest propped up on the table, “Okay, that works.”

You can see him now, your heart constricting enough that a tide of embarrassment hits you in the chest over having such a reaction to someone you don’t actually know.

There are a couple of things that make following Hwa on his cam for a year now both mystifying and agonizing. The first is that there is nothing about his appearance that usually lends itself to your type of guy. He smokes, which you typically find off putting, he has a ton of tattoos, his tongue is pierced, and he wears a lot of jewelry. He wears thin black t-shirts and jeans that hang low off his slender hips, sometimes even crop tops that show off his stomach and abs. He fits the stereotype of bad boy almost painfully so which would also be a turn off if it was apparent that nothing about it felt false in all the streams of his you’ve watched (which are numerous).

The second thing is that you live in the same city.

You didn’t know this at first when watching his streams. You stumbled across his profile late one night when you were exceptionally lonely and looking for any sort of human connection. There was something oddly captivating about his appearance, the way he talked to everyone as if he personally knew them and of course, how he looked when he decided to show off his body that made you weak in the knees. But the more you watched Hwa, the more you recognized places like the corner shop he’d pop into it, the backdrop of buildings behind him, the occasional bar he would go into to stream himself having a drink. The definite proof came one night when a popular musician came to town and he got stuck in the crowds after the show let out.

That made watching Hwa a little too real. The possibility of running into him left you both terrified and exhilarated. You never dreamt of trying to find his location when he was streaming because that felt way too creepy. Admitting to Hwa that you tracked him down on a stream meant that you watched him touch himself on his shows and have seen him naked before and there was no way in hell you could look that man in the face and let him know that. No, better to leave it up to the universe than tempting fate yourself.

There is a spark as Hwa lights up his cigarette, leaning close to the camera. The lighting here is better and you can see a silver necklace dangling in front of his chest. He’s wearing just a thin sleeveless black shirt tonight, exposing his toned arms which have a random assortment of tattoos on them. His jewelry is gaudy, big heavy ugly rings on his long and slender fingers. His black nail polish is chipping and he doesn’t seem to care. His cheekbones could cut glass and his eyelashes are so long that you’re kinda jealous.

Even if I did run into him, he wouldn’t look twice at me, you think, knowing that your fashion sense is next to nonexistent and your superpower is the ability to blend into the background of any event and have no one notice you especially someone like Hwa.

“Someone asked what we’re doing tonight,” Hwa says, his eyes scanning chat, “Do we ever do anything? ‘Are you going to jerk off tonight’ asked someone else. Frankly, I love the enthusiasm so I’ll consider it. ‘Is your band going to do a show soon’. I’m not in a band but I appreciate the conclusion you leapt to based off my appearance. I think I would look good in a band, not gonna lie.”

You occasionally type in chat, too shy even through a screen to interact with Hwa regularly. That’s another reason you spend most of your time alone – your overpowering shyness that you can never seem to overcome even in chat rooms.

There is another word that comes to mind when you watch Hwa’s streams – he’s what your friends would label a bit of a fuckboy. He knows he’s attractive, he’s confident to the point of arrogance, and is candid about how much he enjoys sex. Basically, if he wasn’t on your phone screen, you would steer clear of him out of fear that you would be unable to keep up with his pace and experience.

But since he is just on your phone screen…well, it’s okay to watch from afar.

“No, I’m going back to my place after this. I just needed a smoke and wanted to go for a walk, figured I’d say hi to everyone,” Hwa goes, leaning back against the metal chair. His black hair falls in front of his eyes a little and he pushes it away quickly. “Is there a reason everyone is hornier tonight than normal?” He isn’t wrong, the entire chat is filled with people simping harder than usual for him.

“Full moon,” You type after hesitating for a few seconds.

“BubblegumHeart said it’s the full moon,” He reads, sending a jolt through you as he says your username, “I think that one has a lot of merit. More merit than half of the other shit you guys are sending like it’s my sleeveless shirt.”

In all honesty, it most likely is the sleeveless shirt, you think.

Hwa waves the smoke out of his face, taking one long drag off the cigarette before smushing it against the table and standing up. You’re staring at his black jeans hanging loosely off his hips, a belt thrown lazily around his delicate waist and can feel your thighs clench. You don’t know why some random person online can make you this turned on and no one in reality can. Your sexual experience is pretty thin but even the few encounters you’ve had don’t make you as turned on as watching Hwa just casually existing.

He picks up the camera, bringing his face back into view. Not for the first time, you find yourself admiring how plump his lips are and how occasionally a streetlight catches the tongue piercing when he talks and it glimmers for a brief millisecond. You’ve wondered before if the piercing would make him going down on you a different experience from your other ones.

Both in the stream and in your bedroom, you hear a crack of thunder in the distance. Hwa looks over his shoulder, making a face.

“Guess I better walk faster,” He remarks.

You don’t type again in chat as he heads to his apartment. The time spent getting back to his place is mostly him flirting with people in the chat, typical of his streams. People toss money his way for more specific attention. If there is one thing Hwa is good at, it’s making everyone who throws money in his direction feel special. The attention is fleeting and means nothing but for those few moments where he gives a thoughtful response or more intense flirting; it makes everything else fade to the background. That’s why you’re here, after all, and why you’ve given him money yourself.

Back at his apartment, the camera is covered until he gets into his bedroom to give his roommate respect and privacy. You know nothing about his roommate besides they don’t want him smoking in the apartment. Once Hwa is back in his bedroom, the phone is plopped onto its stand showing off his bed and large computer set up. He’s mentioned before he makes music in his spare time (synthwave, if you remember correctly, which is how the rumor he is in a band got started) and uses his computer to do it.

Hwa seems to live permanently in mood lighting. A purple lava lamp is glowing on his desk, his computer has those light up rainbow keys you typically only see on the ratemysetup subreddit, and he flicks on one of those projector lights that sends hazy stars slowly across the ceiling, also in purple. You don’t think you’d recognize him in anything other than the dim lighting of bars, coloured lights or the glimmer from the moon.

“Alright, sorry everyone but I’m switching to members only,” He says to the camera and your heart skips a beat, “If you wanna stick around, you can subscribe.”

Hwa exclusively switched to members only streams when he started doing the sort of thing that makes your brain melt. Of course, you had subscribed around eight months ago in a fit of weakness and desire. The stream switches over to members only and you find yourself sitting up a little more in bed, eyes glued to the small screen of your phone.

Hwa is sitting at the edge of the bed, running his fingers through his hair as he reads the chat. “‘Tell us about the last person you fucked’, no, I don’t talk about anything I do off camera with people. They didn’t agree to that. You guys know the rules, you’re just all rowdy tonight. Maybe this will calm you all down.”

He stands up, pulling his shirt off over his head and throwing it onto the bed. You swallow hard, staring at Hwa shirtless. Your favourite thing about him like this is the snake tattoo that starts just above his hip bone, circles around his torso, goes up along his back before looping back onto his chest and ends with the snake head just underneath his collarbone. It’s black with hints of red, gorgeous against his skin and incredibly sexy for reasons you don’t understand. The first time you saw it, you almost fell out of bed and now you cling to any time he shows it off.

Hwa is playing up the audience, knowing damn well that taking off his shirt won’t do a thing to settle anyone down, yourself included. Even though your logical mind knows better, you find yourself tossing him a few dollars to tell him how good he looks. When he says thanks, you squirm in bed, resisting the urge to touch yourself already.

He pulls the belt off his pants, dropping it to the floor. His pants slide down another inch, exposing the top of his hip bones. Hwa seems to enjoy showing off on camera, getting off on the attention people give him whenever he decides to jerk off for everyone. You’d pass away before ever doing something like that in front of strangers but his confidence is appealing in a new way. You find yourself attracted to everything Hwa does even though you’ve never looked at guys like him before.

“‘Can I hire you to fuck me’ no, you cannot but I appreciate the money,” Hwa says, unzipping his pants and lowering them to show off his boxers.

You can see the bulge of his already hard cock and your hand wiggles down to the band of your own underwear. You can’t believe how turned on you are or how badly you want him, this man you’ll never have, this man who will never notice your existence outside of a throwaway line uttered to you during a stream.

He runs his hand down the front of his boxers, fondling himself. The rings glitter in soft lights of his room as his cock grows harder. You think about being on your knees and taking Hwa in your mouth, wondering what it would be like to have him make a mess of your face with his cum while he talks dirty in that low voice of his. When it came to Hwa, you wanted to him fuck you in ways you hadn’t thought about before; it was as if you would do anything to be his dirty little whore.

You end up giving him more money just to tell him how much you want to suck his cock as your hand dips underneath your underwear to touch your wet pussy.

“BubblegumHeart wants to suck my cock. It’s funny how chatty you get whenever I’m half naked. Exceptionally quiet the entire stream minus a comment here or there and then dying for me to fuck their face,” Hwa says, pulling the boxers down as his cock springs free.

The comment makes your head spin, your finger touching your clit with a jolt of pleasure at the sight of Hwa wrapping his hand around his length along with his dirty comment aimed at you. You think once again about being on your knees for him, his fingers gently tilting your chin upwards to look at him while stroking his cock. He’d call you his little slut, tell you to be his good girl and suck his dick. On the screen, Hwa is slowly jerking himself off, basking in the attention from everyone in chat. Your eyes are glued to the screen, not caring what anyone else is saying, just admiring the way his hand looks around his dick and how his balls must be full of cum. Your finger rubs your clit, pussy wet as you both watch him and daydream about what he would do to you.

Hwa spits on his hand lewdly, smearing it across his cock. The tip is glistening with precum as he moves his hips slightly so there is a better angle of it shown to the camera. You’re thinking about how it’d feel in your mouth and how much of it you could take before it’d hit the back of your throat. You don’t care if you made a mess with Hwa, in fact most of your daydreams are centred around him fucking you for so long and so hard that you’re practically unrecognizable by the end.

Hwa resumes jerking off, his painted fingernails a blur as he increases his speed. Your pussy is dripping wet, soaking through your underwear as you furiously rub your clit. In the purple hue of his bedroom, Hwa’s torso is bathed in soft colours, the snake looking almost sinister wrapped around him. The projector that rotates the stars occasionally has one or two land on his stomach for a couple of seconds before moving away, giving a small pinprick of bright light against his toned abs for a second.

He slows down his speed, allowing a drop of precum to drip off the tip of his dick before resuming. You can hear how wet your pussy is, unable to stop as your climax draws closer watching Hwa. You want to run your tongue up along his snake tattoo, bounce in his lap and have his hands roam all over your body. The desire is a palpable thing, a beast that resides just under the surface of your skin. You know that a chance with Hwa will never happen and that wanting him this much is silly but watching him touch himself shatters all the borders you usually put up.

Hwa’s breathing is heavy and maybe his moans are for the sake of the audience, you don’t know nor care, but he sounds positively delicious as his orgasm draws nearer. You can picture his hand curling around your neck, giving it a squeeze as he pounds you into the bed so hard that you could see stars. You’d let him do anything to you, be his doll –

Hwa gasps and his climax begins. His load goes all over his hand, making a mess as he tries to stop it from getting everywhere. There is a ton of it, he always cums a lot, and your hips wiggle as your own orgasm begins at the sight of his load and the mental image of him coating your face with it.

Your phone drops from your hands as you lose yourself to the pleasure, head rolled back against the pillow. As your body goes limp, you can hear Hwa talk about cleaning up his mess from where your phone fell onto the bed.

Your cheeks burn with sudden embarrassment as the orgasm abates and reality sets in. Ashamed, you sit up and snatch your phone, exiting out of the live stream hastily as if someone is going to discover what you did.

Plopping back in bed, you stare at the ceiling. The storm started at some point during the live stream, and now you listen to it strike against the roof. You force your eyes closed, knowing that come morning, you’ll be beating yourself up for spending money in the stream and for being down so badly over a person that will never know you exist.

It’s Saturday night and for once you’re out at a bar although it wasn’t your idea. Two of your friends convinced you to come with them to a larger get together. It’s someone’s birthday but you aren’t exactly sure who.

After a couple hours, you’re already ready to go home. The bar is loud, incredibly crowded since it’s the weekend, and you aren’t much of a drinker. Having only agreed so that they would keep inviting you to things, you idly wonder how much time you can put in here before it’s okay to leave.

As usual, you end up on the outskirts of the group. Part of it is your choosing – too much social interaction makes your anxiety overwhelming – and part of it is just how things seemingly always go.

The rain began hours ago, a torrent that wiped the entire city clean before slowing to a steady thrum. The bar smells like water, the city, smoke and too many perfumes and colognes battling for attention. Your back presses against the wall, watching as a cluster of people play pool, your friends order another round of shots and someone begins to drunkenly yell at someone who spilled their beer.

You don’t think anyone would notice if you were to slink out now. The city makes it easy to get swallowed up in. Your nerves are frayed from all the anxiety and noise. Deciding to call it a night, you wiggle through the crowd, popping out of the entrance and into the rain.

The temperature has dropped considerably since you were last outside. Taking a deep breath, you feel it freeze your lungs for a few seconds. You don’t have an umbrella but awkwardly shove yourself back into the oversized hoodie that had been removed earlier in the night.

After wandering down the block, you stop in front of a bar that is swathed in dark and red, almost sinister looking. The windows are tinted and you can’t see inside. There are shadows against the windows, slightly distorted from whatever effect the glass has on it, making it look vaguely like a bar from the underworld. But the stoop directly in front is quiet and under an overhang which makes it a perfect spot to plop down at to give yourself a few minutes to settle your nerves.

The concrete is cold against your fingertips. You tried to dress up tonight a bit which meant a skirt that ended right at your knees. Now, it just means you’re cold. You pull the hood up of your hoodie, trying to get warm. Rubbing your hands together, you idly watch the way the cars cut through the puddles and the streetlights shatter like glass in each ripple.

You exhale slowly, enjoying the peace and quiet. Yes, you made the right call in leaving the bar. You’ll be home soon, crawling into your warm bed and into your dreams soon enough.

You hear the door to the bar swing open followed by a burst of electronic music before it becomes muffled again. You don’t pay any attention to a few people leaving, their heads bowed together as they giggle. You think maybe, normally, you’d feel lonely at a moment like this. But right now, you are just so relieved to be in the quiet of the street versus all the earlier noise.

The door opens again, another explosion of music for a couple of seconds. You tilt your face back, studying the way an apartment building looks as if it is touching the storm clouds. You wonder what each individual person in each apartment is doing –

“Hey, do you have a light?”

At first, you don’t think the voice could be directed at you. But as the silence stretches and you bring your head out of the clouds, the voice tries again.

“Can never fucking tell if someone has Air Pods in. Honest to hell, it kinda drives me crazy…Hey, do you have a light?” The repeated question is a lot louder this time.

That voice, you think as time comes to a crawl, there’s no way. You turn your head in the direction of it, your heart knowing before your brain that it is going to belong to…

Everything seems to be moving in slow motion. There is you, freezing your ass off on concrete, and then there is him, the cam boy of your dreams, Hwa, standing right in front of you, slightly leaning forward, squinting as if trying to see if you have Air Pods in because your ears are covered by the hoodie.

“No, I don’t smoke.” You hear your voice although it sounds very far away, as if it doesn’t belong to you.

This cannot be happening.

But it is. Hwa is wearing a thin black tank top with a fishnet shirt tossed over it, exposing his bare arms in the cut outs of the netting. A necklace with a small green pendant dangles in front of his leaning body, swinging gently like a pendulum. His black jeans are ripped, his knees exposed and most of his fingers have the familiar rings on that you’ve seen a ton of times in streams. The bar’s red light makes the tips of his black hair glow.

“Oh, shame. Forgot to bring my lighter.”

You are frozen, unsure what to do. Just don’t say anything about it and he’ll leave in a few seconds. This whole thing will feel like a fever dream. But that primal part of you, that part that responds to everything Hwa casually does on his streams, is stirring like a savage beast.

“I didn’t see you inside,” Hwa continues, oblivious to the mental strife you’re currently suffering through.

It feels like moving a boulder to try to speak a normal sentence. “Oh, I wasn’t inside. I was at the bar a few places down but I just left. It was really crowded and loud in there…” You trail off, immediately self-conscious about talking too much to the sexiest guy you’ve ever seen.

“No kidding? That’s why I came out here too,” Hwa says and to your utter shock – and relief…and horror… - he sits down next to you. “Sometimes I need a breather from the crowds.”

You are sitting very still as if one wrong move will make this entire situation vanish into thin air. You are glad that your hoodie is pulled up, offering you a little protection from Hwa seeing your face which probably looks shell shocked.

Time to stand up, tell him have a nice night and get the hell out of here, you think before that primal beast goes, no fucking way. You run into the guy you’ve been masturbating to for a year, the hottest guy you’ve ever seen, the only guy that makes you feel the way you do and now you want to head home?

But it’s wrong to talk to him casually without him knowing that I know him!

“Still can’t believe I forgot my lighter…I guess I’ll have to bum one off someone inside. Wow, it’s cold out here. Are you cold?”

“A little,” You admit, still staring straight ahead, unable to look him in the face for fear of blurting out the secret or melting into a puddle of desire.

From this angle, you can see Hwa drumming his fingers against his exposed knee. Those same fingers you’ve seen wrapped around his cock. I think I might spontaneously combust right here on the spot while wondering why the universe would land you in such a situation. The odds, even living in the same city, were so impossible that you never even daydreamed about running into Hwa. It seemed ridiculous that you would now be sitting next to him outside a bar, a cruel joke from someone who just wanted to create chaos.

“My friend San got me into this bar cuz it’s invite only but then he took off twenty minutes ago because something came up,” Hwa continues speaking in that same voice you’ve heard a thousand times through your phone, “Hey, are you heading home after this?”

“What?” You say, finally startled enough to turn your head to look directly at him.

“If you’re not, why don’t you come with me inside?” Hwa flashes a smile, so familiar that it knocks the air out of your lungs, “Like I said, the place is invite only and is sorta exclusive so if you wanna grab a drink together. My name is Hwa.”

You squint your eyes, feeling torn between jumping for joy and running down the road. “You don’t even know me.” is what you end up saying instead, immediately disliking how hostile the words come out.

Hwa looks unperturbed, replying, “Sure but we already have something in common by coming out here for some fresh air. On top of that, you’ve just been watching the rain fall against the road which is something I do all the time when I’m trying to come up with a song. So, maybe we are a bit similar.”

A natural question after this would be oh you write songs? But to utter such a thing would be lying to Hwa immediately since you already know he writes synthwave music. Hwa asking you to go inside could mean nothing. On his streams, he always has struck you as someone down for adventure, someone who loves people, and here you are, sitting alone outside a bar – why wouldn’t he ask to hang out? But Hwa also loves sex and attention, and you’re a woman sitting outside a bar, why wouldn’t he want to try to hit on you?

But I know you even though you don’t know me. I masturbate to you almost regularly. You’re like the guy of my sexual dreams. But none of those words leave your mouth even as the guilt swirls.

Hwa stands up then, extending his hand towards you. A stray lock of hair falls out of place, framing his angled face, with his eyes as dark as the bottom of the ocean. Looking directly at Hwa, you know you’re swimming with the sharks.

“Would you like to have a drink with me?” He offers.

You swallow hard and go, “Sure.”

Remembering that he told you his name earlier, you tell him yours while reaching upwards. Your hand meets his as he helps you up off the concrete. Your heart is beating so quickly that you’re breathless. His fingers are around yours for a few seconds and you are entranced at the sight of his painted nails as small blurs against your skin. When Hwa lets go of your hand, he motions to the door, beckoning you to follow.

And you do, as if any other choice actually existed. If the universe had opted to toss you in Hwa’s direction, then you would take it.

Hwa pushes open the door to the bar, the electronic music promptly smacking you in the face with the force of a punch. The entrance is covered in a low red light and shadows dance on the walls. There is a bouncer by the second door, and a woman is looking crestfallen as he shakes his head, pointing her towards the exit.

Hwa stops in front of the bouncer, who nods before pointing at you with a puzzled expression on his face. Hwa yells something while gesturing to you and the bouncer nods again, moving to the side to let you both in. Hwa reaches for your hand once more, and the guilt becomes too much as you enter the bar with him.

“Hey!” You shout over the din but he doesn’t hear you.

The music is obnoxiously loud – no wonder Hwa popped out for a break – and people are crowded at the bar, bodies pressed together and the air heavy with smoke. The music makes the floor vibrate underneath your feet but no one is dancing. In fact, you can’t even spot a dance floor, just two people wildly making out smushed in a corner that looked like it maybe, in an earlier iteration, had a dance floor.

Everything is black and red to an almost dizzying effect. Hwa stops at the bar, wedging himself into a small cluster of people. His hand is still holding onto yours, your eyes falling on it. It’s wrong that he doesn’t know, the voice in your head that is as loud as the music thrumming along your skin goes, you need to tell him before it gets more complicated.

Hwa has now successfully gotten a lighter from someone unceremoniously shoving it into his pocket. He turns around and shoots you a grin with those dazzling white teeth of his, setting off to lead you further into the bar.

“Hey!” You yell again and this time sharply tug on his hand.

Hwa stops, turning his body slightly to the side to look over his shoulder at you. His brows come together in question and he asks you what although it is swallowed up by the music.

“I have to tell you something!” You’re now wishing the confession had occurred outside the bar as the electronic music swirls around you.

Hwa is bumped by someone, he shoots them a glare and then turns around to face you, moving so close that the warmth of his body seeps into yours. Doused in the wild lights of the bar, you don’t think it is possible for him to look sexier than he currently does. When he asks you what once again, you can see the quick flash of his tongue piercing and your knees actually feel weak.

No choice left but forward, you motion for Hwa to get closer. He does so, his body angling so that his ear is next to your lips. Being this close to him is making your head dizzy. You can make out the muscles in his arms through the fishnet, can see the small tattoo behind his ear of a symbol you don’t recognize of two small pieces coming together, and watch as his green pendant swings in front of his chest.

You shut your eyes for a second as if about to jump off a cliff and shout over the heavy music, “I know who you are! I watch your streams!”

Hwa pulls away immediately, eyes widening. In the dancing blaze of red lights, it is a little difficult to make out his expression and it isn’t as if the bar lends itself to any sort of intimate conversation. But you couldn’t deal with the guilt over hanging out with Hwa and hiding the fact you know what he does in his spare time. It just felt wrong.

To your surprise, he tilts his head back and laughs. You stare at the tongue piercing, unsure what to do or even say, given his reaction. He jerks his head to the side, an indicator to continue following him. He is still holding your hand as he wedges himself through the crowd. He said this place was invite only but it’s like the entire damn city is here.

Hwa leads you up a metal staircase near the back of the bar, taking you up to the second floor. There is another bouncer here but he merely waves at Hwa, pushing the curtain to the side to allow access. You follow, walking past VIP booths. Someone has ordered bottle service and it is an explosion of glowing bottles, sparklers, and tiny lights flashing as a group of women pop the bottle at one of the tables.

The music isn’t as loud here – still overwhelming but enough that conversation could go easier. Hwa stops at one of the smaller booths, releasing your hand and sitting down. Feeling nervous now, you sit on the opposite side. You’re totally out of your element and it isn’t just because you’re with Hwa. This type of bar is new to you, and you’re self-conscious about your quick outfit of the hoodie and skirt meant for a totally different setting.

Hwa scoots all the way into the middle of the booth and motions for you to move closer. You know it is just because of the volume of the music but to be this close to him is making your heart race. Combined with the confession of watching his streams, you aren’t sure if it is racing because of desire or anxiety. Maybe both.

His body is angled towards you, one arm across the back of the booth near your back. You aren’t sure where to look. You want to just stare at him, take in the sight of his face and his body and the fact he is this close to you but your shyness at the confession mixed with the surreal nature of the situation means you just end up staring at the table.

A server comes off, asking in a loud voice to be heard over the music if the two of you want anything.

“Just a water,” You yell, feeling a little ridiculous at communicating only via shouting.

“Same,” Hwa goes, taking your lead and the server nods, leaving you alone with him.

His eyes are on you again and your hands grip the edge of your hoodie as if it is a life raft. Your body is screaming for him a way that you’ve never experienced before while your brain is in a pure panic at having confessed you know who he is.

Hwa leans towards you, his lips near your ear. You hold your breath, the different emotions bouncing in your chest as he speaks.

“You really watch my streams?”

When you turn your head to look at him, you’re so close that it would take a second to press your lips against his. He doesn’t seem phased by it, merely waiting for you to answer. Can he tell how much you want him? Is it obvious that he impacts you? You aren’t sure; his eyes don’t reveal anything.

“Yes,” You reply, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make things awkward but it felt wrong hanging out with you and hiding it.”

“No, I appreciate the honesty,” Hwa says and for a brief second his eyes drop to where your hoodie meets your skirt, “I’ve never run into anyone irl before that’s seen my streams.”

“Really?”

He nods, brushing his hair away from his face. His rings are so familiar – everything about him is so familiar. You swallow. Hwa notices, trying to hide a smirk. Your heart is skipping rope in your chest.

“Yeah. I honestly never considered running into someone. Or…I didn’t think they’d actually admit they knew who I was,” He studies you for a moment, “Do you talk in the chat?”

“Oh, uhm…occasionally. Sometimes.” Mortification is beginning to sit in as the conversation goes further. Does he think you’re some desperate loser for watching his streams?

The server returns with the two glasses of water, unceremoniously left on the table because they have actual real drink orders to take. Nervously, you grab the water, fiddling with the paper straw, hoping that keeping your hands busy will stop you from reaching out to Hwa and doing something desperate.

“Oh yeah? What’s your username?”

“My username?” You’re stalling.

“Yeah, maybe I’ll know it.”

His words uttered during the stream last night come back to you. BubblegumHeart wants to suck my cock. It’s funny how chatty you get whenever I’m half naked. Exceptionally quiet the entire stream minus a comment here or there and then dying for me to fuck their face. You busy yourself taking a large gulp of water through the straw, wanting to sink into the floor of the club and disappear from Hwa’s view.

He is watching you patiently, apparently in no hurry to get information. There is something languid about his movements, like a cat lazily watching its prey and knowing no matter what happens, it’ll catch it. Does he see you like that? Did you want him to? Again, the old thoughts return about how experienced he must be compared to yourself and the paltry limited sexual encounters you’ve had your entire life.

When you can’t put it off any longer, you mumble, “It’s BubblegumHeart.”

You spoke it so softly that you aren’t even sure it is audible. But Hwa reacts immediately, a grin breaking out across his face, looking as if he just hit the jackpot.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” He says gleefully, “You’re a fucking chat regular.”

What are the odds of lightning breaking the roof and striking me down right now? If I can run into Hwa, surely I can be electrocuted, right?

“That’s amazing,” Hwa continues, sounding positively chipper, “You’re in almost every stream. I always notice you because as soon as I’m done jerking off, you immediately leave like clockwork.” He snaps his fingers. “I could never tell if you were embarrassed at watching me or just did what you needed to do and left.”

Or maybe a stampede of wild animals from the zoo will break out, storm this bar and trample me. That might be better. Are the odds of that higher or lower? Whichever one will make my deep embarrassment stop first.

He props his chin on his hand, studying you and your phony fascination with the glass of water. You’re too embarrassed to even talk.

“So?” He prompts.

Swallowing, you go, “What?”

“Which one is it? Do you get that post nut shame and close out of my stream or do you just see those things as down to business, business taken care of, time to close out?”

You idly resume swirling the straw in the cup, biting down hard on your bottom lip for a second before forcing yourself to look at Hwa directly. His fingers rest again his cheek, his dark eyes alight with interest, and his body wickedly warm next to yours.

“It’s embarrassment,” You finally reply, “But none of it has to do with you. I just get embarrassed about…paying for attention. And getting off to someone I don’t know.”

“Lots of people get off to people they don’t know. That’s basically the entirety of porn,” Hwa points out.

“You know what I mean,” You mumble.

He shifts a little closer. Your knees are touching now, the contact of skin against skin like pure electricity being dumped over your body. “Is it because you like getting off to me, specifically?” His voice has dropped an octave, low in your ear, settling across your brain to create a pleasant hum. Mixed with the throbbing sound of the music, it is almost making you delirious.

There is a lump in your throat as you go, “Yes.”

“Is it because you want to suck my cock?” He asks, quoting your comment from last night.

The words are like a sledgehammer to your chest, knocking you entirely off balance. Your grip tightens around the glass and you’re sure that Hwa notices but you can’t help yourself. You’re getting to that dangerous tipping point where your brain is about to log out for the night. You only ever get this sensation when you’re watching his streams. How could you resist it when he’s right in front of you in the flesh?

“Yes,” You exhale, “Can I ask you something now?”

He nods. Very lightly, you feel his fingertips grazing the back of your neck where his arm is stretched across the back of the booth. The touch is intense; you never want him to stop. It is so faint that you can barely feel it but as he brushes his fingers there, you realize just how wet you already are – from basically nothing but talking to him.

“Before I told you…about the streams. When we were outside. Why did you ask me to come in here with you?”

“Cute girl, sitting alone in just a hoodie and a skirt, watching the rain fall across the city. Me, alone tonight because my friend had to leave. Figured I’d see where it would lead.”

“Where do you want it to lead?” It is as forward as you can get without getting tongue tied.

Hwa’s eyes drop once more to your skirt laying across your thighs before flicking back up to your face. You’re trying not to squirm under his gaze.

“I think you know where I want it to lead,” He goes and to your shock and delight, he brings his other hand to lightly rest on your knee.

Things like this do not happen to me, you think, knowing this entire situation is just too good to be true and therefore, your brain is going to attempt to sabotage it.

“I don’t – uhm. I don’t have a lot of experience in this area. Very little, actually. And it will probably not be fun…for you.”

“I’m a good teacher,” is all he says without missing a beat, “If you want one.”

How does Hwa do that? Just flip every single conversation into something that makes your knees weak and your pussy so wet that all logic goes out the window? You have a feeling he could suggest jumping off a bridge with him and you’d likely agree.

You make a strangled noise as your brain buffers with a reply and your body just wants to jump in his lap. As you take in the sight of Hwa next to you, his hand on your knee, your mind flickers back to the snake tattoo that curls around his body. The mental image of running your fingers across it is in vivid colour.

“I do want one,” You manage to say without stumbling over your words.

Hwa flashes you a grin and leans forward. You realize with a jolt he’s going to kiss you. You place two fingers against his chest to stop him, your breathing unsteady and hands shaking slightly. He stops immediately.

“It doesn’t bother you that I’ve seen your streams?” You ask, so close to him now that you can study his jawline, the pinkish hue of his lips and the way he is looking at you as if he can’t wait to taste you.

“No. Why would it bother me?” Even though the music is loud, you can still somehow hear him as though your brain filters out everything but him. “Just means I don’t have to waste any time explaining who I am and what I like to do.”

Another mental image of his hand stroking his cock. You swallow hard, your fingers lowering back to your lap. There is no other excuse to wield, no other manner in which you can deny yourself the very thing you’ve wanted the most.

“I guess that’s true,” You murmur as Hwa’s hand slowly moves up your leg, resting just at the bottom of your skirt where your thigh begins.

Your brain finally gives up, throwing its hands in the air and retreating as Hwa presses his lips against yours. The sensation is like two planets colliding, your entire body is wrapped up in the feeling of Hwa kissing you. His hand presses down against your thigh, the coldness of his rings making goosebumps break out against your skin. His other hand brushes along the back of your neck as the kiss grows deeper.

You’ve never done something like this, kissing someone you basically don’t know. Sure, you’ve watched Hwa on streams but that isn’t the same thing as knowing someone, is it? It isn’t as if he knew about you beforehand. But you’ve never desired anyone like you’ve lusted after Hwa through a screen and the idea of missing out on him when the universe sent him your way just doesn’t make any sense.

You fend off a moan when Hwa’s tongue slips into your mouth and you can feel his piercing. How many times did you daydream about this? Too many to count.

When he pulls away, his skin is slightly tinged with colour and the expression of lust is in his eyes. Knowing it is directed at you only furthers your desire.

“Do you want to come back with me to my place?” He asks, a sentence that is so dreamlike you hope that you never forget it.

That’s when the server interrupts the two of you, asking if everything is going okay. You can tell by the bored tone in their voice that two people making out in a booth is just a regular night.

Both of you say that you’re fine. The server leaves and you try to steady your breathing.

“Do you mind if I smoke?” Hwa asks.

“I do, actually, I don’t love the smell when it’s right next to me,” You reply, knowing it would be easier just to say yes and go along with whatever Hwa wants due to your feelings for him but unable to do that to yourself.

To your surprise, he grins again, that same quick as a dagger smile that threatens you to break every promise you’ve ever had with yourself.

“That’s alright, I can have one on the walk home. Are you coming with me? We got interrupted before you could answer before.”

As if saying no was ever an option.

“Yeah, I’ll come with you,” You hesitate, “Are you sure you’re alright with my lack of experience?”

“You’re hung up on it way more than me,” Hwa replies, “Like I said, it doesn’t bother me. You just tell me whatever you want to do tonight. You can decide.”

This takes you by surprise. “I’m not very good at leading.”

“You don’t have to lead. You just tell me what you want to try and we’ll try it. I’ll show you. If we start something and you don’t like it, you tell me and we switch to something else.” His tone is casual, without any shyness, proving how comfortable he is with his own body and sex, a far cry from yourself.

But this is the same attitude you always have found so sexy on his streams. Having it directed at you is a bit mind melting. Combined with the proposition of doing whatever you have fantasized about with Hwa and you’re starting to wonder if you’ve just won the sexual lottery.

“Oh, okay,” You reply simply, too tongued tied and overwhelmed to say anything else.

“Do you want to stay here longer or are you ready to go?”

“No, we can go. Thanks for showing me this place but I don’t think I’ll ever come back here.”

Hwa laughs at this as he slides out of the booth. He says something but it’s swallowed up by the music. He extends his hand again towards yours to help you out and then motions to the back of the VIP area.

“There’s a back exit so you don’t have to cut through downstairs again. I’ll show you.”

Following after Hwa, your eyes skim along the length of his back to his small waist. The nerves are buzzing now, the idea that you’re actually going to mess around and most likely fuck him starting to settle in with amazing clarity. You can taste him in your mouth from the earlier kiss and you seem to be emotionally leaping from open desire to pure anxiety.

Hwa pushes the back door open and you trail after him onto a small metal balcony with a staircase leading to the alley. The rain has stopped and everything shines in the city lights, the puddles a multi coloured collection of neon signs and street lamps.

Once you’re in the alleyway with Hwa, he pulls out a small box of cigarettes from the pocket of his jeans as well as the lighter he collected earlier. The flame flickers brightly in the darkness as he lights the tip of his cigarette and takes a drag off it, tilting his face away from you while blowing the smoke out from in between those plump lips of his.

“Here, stand on this side of me so the wind blows it away from you,” He says as the two of you leave the alley.

“You seem to have practice with this. I guess because of your roommate?” You regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth because it brings up the fact you watch his streams and know more about him than he knows about you.

“Yeah, Hongjoong doesn’t like it at all which I get. That’s one of the reasons I started streaming. The nighttime walks to smoke could be kinda boring.”

“What are the other reasons?” You ask curiously.

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye before going, “I like attention.”

Which you had gathered. In some ways, you envy Hwa and his love of attention because you spend so much of your time hiding from it.

“You never get self conscious on the streams?”

You move around a large puddle on the sidewalk, almost losing your footing. Hwa’s hand goes to your back, an anchor that helps you steady yourself. The cigarette is in between his lips and he’s covered in a blue neon light from another bar.

“No,” He says, the two of you frozen in place on the sidewalk as a car drives by, blasting muffled music, “Why would I? I know every single person watching my stream wants to fuck me. It’s a confidence booster more than anything.”

You suppose that he also means you. Feeling your cheeks get hot, you straighten up and continue walking. Hwa brings his slender fingers to the cigarette, exhaling again and waving away any errant smoke that might drift in your direction. You wonder what it’s like to be so comfortable in your own skin like Hwa is.

“Do you live far from here?”

“No, about a ten minute walk. What about you?” He asks.

“Yeah, I took an Uber here. Twenty minutes or so not accounting for traffic.”

“Far enough away that we wouldn’t run into one another. Which leads me to another question.”

“What?” You ask nervously.

“Did you know we lived in the same city? I do what I can to try to make my location vague but if you live in the city and you watch my streams, you must have seen something that made you realize it.”

You’ve been honest the entire night so why lie now? “I did know, yeah. But I wasn’t about to…track you down while you were streaming or something. That felt completely out of bounds and creepy. The city is teeming with people. I told myself there is just no way I’d ever run into you. Did you ever think about what it would be like to run into someone who watched your streams?”

“I assumed no one would actually admit to it even if I did run into someone. Admitting it means possibly admitting to sticking around when I switch to members only and watching me jerk off on camera as well as going on a website that is just full of cam shows. But I guess I was wrong because you told me.”

“Did I make you uncomfortable?”

“I wouldn’t be taking you back to my place if anything you did made me uncomfortable,” He replies, stopping at the crosswalk and looking at you. “Do you feel uncomfortable? You’re the one watching me jerk off on camera.”

Flustered, you make another garbled noise before settling on, “I’m not uncomfortable. I’m just nervous.”

“Due to your inexperience.”

“That’s right.”

“You always spend this much time in your own head?”

“Basically. I spend a lot of time alone.”

“Why’s that?”

“Dunno, I just prefer it. People can be draining.”

“You ever get lonely?”

“Sometimes. I mean, that’s how I ended up on your stream. And why I kept going back,” You admit.

“That and the fact you think I’m hot.”

You’re starting to think Hwa enjoys flustering you. “Yes, that too.”

The crosswalk light turns green and Hwa turns his attention back to the walk. For a few minutes, you’re both silent. However, it isn’t an awkward silence. Sure, you’re nervous about being around someone you want so badly. But there is a familiarity and ease to Hwa that makes things comfortable.

“Can I ask you something else?”

Hwa replies, “You don’t have to preface everything with that. You can ask me anything. I’m an open book.”

“Why?” You go warily, “Why are you so open with me?”

“I told you. I’ve never had anyone know about my cam shows. It’s a big facet of my life because I like doing them and it’s a secondary income. I’m not embarrassed but it’s a personal thing to tell someone what I do on those streams. No one else knows how far I go. Hongjoong is aware I casually go live but not the stripping, the jerking off, the dirty talk. A part of you ends up hidden even if you don’t mean to. But you know that part of me – you know that part of me first over anything else. Feels freeing.”

You’re surprised by his answer but reassured that telling Hwa you watch his cam shows had been the right choice. You’re off the main road now, walking down a side street together that leads to a block of apartment buildings. You can hear another round of storms kicking up in the distance.

“Well, my question isn’t that exciting. I was just wondering what you did outside of streaming for money.”

“Like my job?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m actually the heir to a chain of grocery stores so I get money from my parents.”

Confused, your steps slow as you look at him. But Hwa laughs loudly, shaking his head at your expression.

“I’m joking, I’m joking. Can you imagine something like that? Sounds preposterous,” He drops the cigarette underneath his shoe, crushing it into a puddle. “Honestly, I got a collection of random stuff I do. Delivery driver, sometimes I use my car to do Uber drives, part time jobs here and there, just whatever catches my interest and gives me enough money to pay what I need to. The streaming is just one of the sources of income.”

He stops in front of a nondescript apartment complex that is three floors. Underneath the streetlight, he leans against the crumbling wall in front of the building, an indication that this area was once fancier before it fell into a state of disrepair.

“What were you saying to me before we left the club?” You ask, remembering how you couldn’t hear him over the noise.

“Oh? Just that you were unbelievable. I like how honest you are. You didn’t try to drink through a misguided notion to try to impress me. You tell me that you don’t want me smoking next to you. You tell me the club sucks.”

“I don’t think I used that exact phrasing,” You reply.

He is grinning again. “Well, the intention is still the same. I like that you weren’t trying to hide anything about who you are just because you like watching my streams.”

“It didn’t cross my mind,” You admit a bit sheepishly.

His smile fades, his look becoming serious while studying you, making your heart race. “C’mere,” Hwa says, motioning for you to get closer.

You do, and the thunder crackles in the distance, a little louder this time. Hwa places one hand on your waist, and the other on your cheek, his thumb grazing your skin. Your body reacts to him immediately. The pure desperation is reaching a boiling point. All your earlier fantasies of Hwa treating you like you’re his little whore float to the surface.

This time, when he kisses you in the silence of the street, you melt into him. His hand moves from your waist to lower back to better angle you against his body. You reach upwards, fingers slipping through the fishnet top, pressing against the hard muscles underneath the thin fabric of his black tank top.

When the kiss breaks, it is as if you are coming up for air after diving very deep into the ocean. Hwa’s black hair is glowing from the streetlight, his eyes heavy with desire.

“Uhm, is your…is your roommate home?” You ask. Are we gonna have to be quiet? is what your question actually means.

“Nah, Hongjoong works overnights. He won’t be back until seven,” He lowers his face, mimicking his posture from earlier in the club when the music was too loud, “That means you don’t have to worry about being quiet when I make you cum.”

Oh, I don’t think I’m gonna survive this, you think as his words make your breath catch and brain buzz. He is holding your hand again, cutting across the parking lot towards one of the apartments on the bottom floor. Unlocking the door, you step inside after him, thinking about how many streams you’ve seen where he covered the camera.

The apartment is small, well lived in but clean. The kitchen is even smaller; it could probably only hold one person in it to cook at a time. A bedroom door on the right is swung open and you know immediately it isn’t Hwa’s.

“Do you want anything to drink?” He offers over his shoulder while walking to the bedroom on the left, near the kitchen.

“I’m okay,” You reply, walking into his room for the first time.

It’s exactly how it looks in the streams but from this angle, you see things that are not typically shown on camera. There is a small corkboard behind the stand for his phone that is filled with polaroid pictures of Hwa with his friends. There are actually too many photos to fit the board and they overflow, pinned to the border. You know it is positioned behind the camera for privacy reasons and you’re aware that you’re now seeing things meant for people only in Hwa’s life, not through a screen.

Hwa turns on the projector light of stars, a familiar motion made entirely brand new from the fact you’re currently standing in his room. The lava lamp had been left on and the inky blobs move slowly. He turns to face you and the worlds of offline and online seem to collide. You suddenly find it difficult to speak, your shyness getting the best of you now that the objection of your desire has you alone in his bedroom.

You motion to his computer. “How come you never upload your music online?”

“I do. I just don’t link to it on streams.”

“Why not?” You are curious, wondering why he wouldn’t use his following to promote his music.

“Because everyone on stream wants to fuck me and that’ll cloud their judgement over the music. They’ll just tell me it’s great just because they know I made it.”

“That’s not true,” You say but Hwa raises one eyebrow at your unconvincing tone.

He moves closer to you, his hands going to your waist as he pulls you towards him. “Is that right?”

“Sure. Play some right now and I’ll tell you it’s shit.”

Hwa laughs, his perfectly white teeth and tongue piercing glinting in the dark lights of the bedroom. The longer this conversation goes on, the less you feel confident in being able to continue it due to how you are mentally screaming for him to touch you more. A couple of kisses aren’t enough. You want all of him, you want him to do everything to you.

He kisses you then. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His tongue is in your mouth, his hands staying on your waist. As the kisses deepen, grow more urgent, the nerves still flutter in your stomach, making you a bit distracted.

It must show because when Hwa pulls away, he is studying your face through long lashes. “What are you thinking about?”

“About ten thousand things at once.”

“You overthink a lot, don’t you?”

“Almost always, yeah.”

“Have you ever been with someone and they just…made your brain shut off? Just stopped thinking completely because of how they were fucking you?”

“I…ah…uhm…”

“That’s a ‘no’,” Hwa retorts, and his hand is against your cheek, thumb brushing across your lips. He has an unreadable expression on his face but it’s making your heart thud heavily in your chest. “I can give you that. Would you like that?”

Not that you doubt Hwa’s sexual prowess or his impact on your body but you do find the possibility of your brain being quiet for once highly improbable. But since your experience with sex is limited, maybe he could really do such a thing.

“Sounds impossible but yes, I’d like that.” His thumb across your lips is distracting, making your earlier fantasies about sucking his dick return.

“Tell me what you want to start with,” His voice is soft and in the silence of the room, it seems to slink down your back and make you shiver.

“Will you just…uhm…kiss me again?” You’re too shy to ask him for anything more, the words stuck in your mouth.

He brings his face to yours, kissing you slowly this time. You can feel this from the top of your scalp to the tip of your toes, sending your body alight with fresh desire. His hands move away from your waist to your lower back, not making any motion to remove your hoodie. As the kissing continues, each one growing deeper, Hwa takes a couple of steps back towards his bed. When he sits down, he pulls you into his lap, not stopping with the kisses the entire time.

Your arms are back around his neck, sitting in his lap slightly turned so that your legs rest on his bed, too shy to suddenly straddle him. Hwa doesn’t seem to mind judging by the way one hand trails up along your legs to your thighs with his other hand against your back to hold you in place.

He nips at your bottom lip with his teeth which makes your body shiver. His fingers dip just underneath the bottom of your skirt to touch your inner thigh. It’s a minor touch but feels like an earthquake inside your body. You’re almost embarrassed by how wet you are from almost nothing.

You can tell Hwa is hard by the bulge pressing against your body so at least it isn’t just you being turned on. Nervously, you break the kiss, feeling too hot in the oversized hoodie. You tug it off over your head in an attempt to cool down, wearing just a regular t-shirt underneath. Hwa tosses the hoodie onto his computer chair before pulling you in for another kiss.

His tongue in your mouth feels too good to be true and, unable to help yourself, you reach for his hand, bringing it upwards to one of your tits so he knows it is okay to touch you there. Hwa doesn’t miss a beat, immediately groping you through your shirt.

Your own fingers are once again clinging to the fishnet shirt he has on. You hope he doesn’t notice your hands are shaking again.

Hwa moves his head to your neck, biting down on the soft skin there with his teeth. A tiny groan escapes you which only makes him do it again.

“Leave a mark,” You quietly beg, the words leaving your mouth before you even had time to question them, your head tilting back to give him more access.

He sucks hard on your neck before biting down harder this time. The idea of having to cover up marks made by him come the next work day fills you with an excitement entirely new. Your hand is in his hair, silently urging him on as he moves to another spot of your neck to do the same.

While doing this, Hwa brings his hand underneath your shirt to fondle your tits in your bra. It’s not enough and you make a noise of annoyance, tugging your bra down hastily so it’s around your waist. Normally, you’d be worried that you’re moving things too fast or should be taking things slower. But not with Hwa, not when you want to be consumed by him completely.

He pinches one of your nipples, making you jump as he bites down on your neck. The sensations are intense; you didn’t think it was possible to be this wet. As he continues to fondle your bare tits, you remove your shirt, tossing it to the floor. Half dressed in Hwa’s lap while he is still fully closed, he brings his head down, sucking hard on your nipple with a soft pop when he pulls away. He moves his head to do the same to the other one, his tongue swirling around your nipple before sucking on it even harder.

This time you groan and when Hwa moves his head away, there is a strand of spit from his bottom lip to your nipple.

“You like that? Being pawed at like this?” He asks in a serious voice.

You nod, your affirmative answer sounding a little bit higher pitch than normal.

“Good girl,” He goes and the compliment makes your head spin, hitting a sweet spot in your brain that you didn’t even know you had, “You want me to keep doing this?”

“N-no, I…” Here it is, your first actual request, as embarrassing as it feels to say it aloud, “I want to suck your cock,” When he nods, you reach out for his wrist, curling your fingers around it and shaking your head to indicate there’s more, “I…”

“You don’t have to be shy with me,” Hwa murmurs, “We already know more about one another before we even met.”

The words settle your nerves a little although you end up bringing your face close to his neck so he can’t look at you while whispering the fantasy in his ear. “I want you to put your cock deep in my throat. And I want…I want you to call me a whore and a slut during it.” Your face feels like it is on fire.

Hwa shifts so that your face is moved away from him so he can look at you. You’re wiggling a little in his lap from the attention and the admission of what you want from him.

“You want to be a good little whore for me and have my cock buried down your throat?” He asks and fuck if it doesn’t make you feel as if you’re turning into a feral thing in his lap hearing those words directed at you. “You like being called a whore?”

“I – I’ve never been talked to like that from anyone else but I always think – I think about it with you.”

Something lights up in Hwa’s eyes for a few seconds. “Oh, so you want to be my good little whore?” After you nod again, he goes, “I think I can give you that.”

He carefully moves so that you’re off his lap while he throws a pillow onto the floor for your knees. It’s cold against your skin when you sink down onto it, still wearing your skirt. You’re both nervous and exhilarated. How many times have you thought about this?

Hwa unzips his pants, removing them but leaves his boxers on, standing in front of you. Your heart is beating so fast that surely, it must be dangerous. Maybe fantasies coming true actually aren’t that good for you. You tilt your face back to look up at Hwa, still wearing his shirt and fishnet cover.

“Pull down my boxers,” He says in the same stern yet soft tone.

When you go to reach for them though, his eyes narrow for a second and he reaches for your hand, turning it so that the palm is facing upwards.

“You’re trembling,” Hwa says and there is a small note of surprise in his voice, “Are you that nervous?”

“It’s not just nerves,” You reply shyly, “It’s…I just…I’ve thought about this a lot. You…I’ve thought about you a lot.”

Something shifts behind his eyes as he lets go of your hand, allowing you to continue. Tentatively, your fingers find the top of his boxers and you tug them down in a swift motion, exposing his hard cock.

It isn’t as though this is the first time you’ve seen Hwa hard like this. But the fact you’re seeing him in person, and it’s all for you, makes you unable to hold back even a second longer. Leaning forward, you take the head of his hard cock into your mouth, rolling your tongue across the tip to taste his precum. Hwa inhales sharply at the touch. You realize he is giving you time to get used to him in your mouth so you drag your tongue along the underside of his shaft, one hand going to fondle his balls.

Your blowjob experience is as limited as everything else you’ve done but Hwa’s breathing changes as you continue. At one point, you’re bobbing your head on his cock, cheeks hollow as you work on sucking him. When you pull him out of your mouth after that, however, you can feel his fingers gently rest on the back of your head so you go still.

Hwa guides his cock back into your mouth, pushing further back until you gag and he pulls out. He doesn’t say anything but waits patiently for you to motion to continue. After you do so, his length fills your mouth and you press your tongue against his shaft, marveling at how much you enjoy it, how much you have wanted this.

It must show on your face somehow because Hwa, in a taunt voice, goes quietly, “You like having your mouth stuffed full of my cock?”

You make an affirmative noise, impossible to reply since your mouth is full. He rocks his hips a little, moving his cock deeper into your throat until it becomes too much for you, resulting in you pulling away with a tiny gasp. Precum and spit connect your lips to the tip of his cock, your eyes watering slightly as you look upwards at him.

Hwa has one hand holding the bottom of his shirt, lifting it up a little to get a better angle at watching you deepthroat his cock. His gaze is lustful, his desire obvious as he studies your face.

“Y-yes,” You mumble shyly, your underwear sticky against your pussy from how turned on you are.

“Show me what you’ve thought about when you watch my streams,” His voice is soft, curling against a spot in your brain where all your fantasies about him are locked away, “Show me what you’ve thought about when you touch yourself to me and think about being my whore.”

His cock is back in your mouth, your lips wrapped around his warmth as you take him deeper. When you gag this time, you don’t pull away and instead stop completely, trying to relax your throat around him. Hwa curses under his breath which only spurns you on more. With his cock in your mouth, your earlier anxieties about the entire situation are starting to fade, replaced by the reality of the situation – that you are here on your knees for Hwa, after all those times of watching him jerk off on streams.

When he slips out of your mouth this time, the spit and precum drip off your chin onto your chest, running down your tits. You try to catch your breath for a couple of seconds before taking him back in your mouth, bobbing your head on his cock, taking his length deep each time.

Hwa grunts, keeping his hips still even though you know he must want to drive his cock down your throat as fast and hard as possible. You get the sense he is holding back as to not overwhelm you, aware of your inexperience.

You continue, not caring that you are making a big mess or that his cock is slick with your salvia and his precum. Hwa is breathing hard now which only makes you want to keep going. You’re determined to have him finish in your mouth after nights of thinking about what it would feel like to have him shoot his cum down your throat. After another moment where you gag after getting a little too excited, Hwa lets out a ragged gasp.

Your eyes flick upwards then to see his grip on his shirt is tight, his chest rising and falling quickly. He seems to sense your gaze and looks down at you then, with your cheeks puffed out from his cock and a dollop of spit hanging off your chin.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me finish if you keep doing this,” He tells you, “I didn’t think you’d be such a cockwhore, gagging on me like that.”

You slip his cock out of your mouth just enough to be able to talk, “I want you to cum in my mouth.”

“Is that part of your fantasy?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, my little cockwhore, I’ll give you what you want,” Hwa goes, moving his hips a little to press the tip of his cock against your lips.

You greedily accept him again, not caring that your tits are covered in a mess and it has probably covered your skirt too. As you slurp and suck on his cock, you drop one hand downwards underneath your skirt to press your clit through the fabric of your underwear. Hwa notices and pushes his cock down further – you can’t help yourself, you moan around him as your fingers brush your clit.

“God, you are an absolute whore,” His voice sounds uneven and you know from watching his streams that he is close.

You make a noise around his cock, a noise of approval, of contentment, and Hwa grunts as his cock buries itself in your throat and he begins to climax. As usual, he cums a lot, so much that it fills your mouth and makes you cough, your reflexes kicking in to pull away from him. But Hwa is still cumming, a hot strand against your chin, another one across your lips as he makes the most delicious sounds you have ever heard. Your fingers press down hard against your clit as his load fills your mouth, covers your face, gives you exactly what you have always gotten off to in the middle of the night.

Hwa looks dazed, trying to come to his senses after the intensity of his orgasm as he tugs his boxers up. When he speaks, it is with great effort.

“I’ll get you something to clean you up –”

“No,” You say quickly, your voice sounding gummy from his load which you are still swallowing, “No – keep it on me.”

The confession only seems to spark something in Hwa, who is staring at you with another expression on his face that you can’t read. He jerks his head to the direction of the bed and goes, “Get up there, if I don’t eat your cunt, I’m gonna start climbing the walls.”

He reaches for you, helping you to your feet as your legs protest from the angle they had been in. While you get on his bed, Hwa is pulling the fishnet cover off followed by his shirt, leaving you with seeing his snake tattoo curling around his body for the first time in person. Your eyes trace the way it wraps around his torso, the manner in which the purple light of his room lays across his body. He kicks off his jeans, leaving just his boxers on. Then he is removing his rings, dropping them onto the night table. You take in the sight of every movement, so familiar but new at the same time.

Hwa is crawling onto the bed now, tugging on your skirt. “You made a mess.”

He isn’t wrong. Even in the low lights, you can see the skirt is covered in spit and his cum. For a split second, you are worried about how you’re going to get home and past your roommate with a skirt like this and it must show on your face because Hwa clicks his tongue piercing against the top of his mouth and reaches out for you, turning your face gently to meet his gaze.

“No, you’re not overthinking again. I could tell there wasn’t a thought in your head except my cock just now and I’m going to take it one step further,” He is pulling your skirt off, landing in the pile of clothes on the floor, “I’m going to make my whore feel so good that there won’t be anything in your mind but pleasure. Look at how fucking soaked your underwear is,” He presses one long finger against your wet slit, the fabric damp, “You’re that turned on from sucking my cock?” You nod but Hwa shakes his head, “No, tell me.”

“Y-yes,” Your face feels hot from the confession.

He removes your underwear, pushing your legs apart to look at your pussy. You’ve never had anyone just look at your pussy before and you squirm underneath his gaze.

“Your pussy is beautiful, look at how swollen and wet you are for me.” His fingers touch you now, spreading your pussy lips apart gently. “Can’t wait to have my cock in your tight hole. I’m going to just slide right in there because you’re so fucking wet.”

You make a tiny noise and he looks up at you then. Some of his hair has fallen around his face, framing it, his eyes looking as serious as ever.

“Tell me,” He says.

Even though you’re embarrassed at your next request, you push through and manage to squeak out, “Will you spank it?”

“You want me to spank your cunt?” He clarifies and when you nod, he laughs a little and replies, “Yeah, I’ll spank your cunt, whore. That something else you think about?”

“Y-yes, with you.”

“You think a lot of stuff about me, don’t you?”

“Yes,” You say, shivering as Hwa brushes his fingers lightly over your pussy to tease you.

“Because you want to be my whore. Just mine.”

“Just yours.”

He spanks your pussy then, a smack that isn’t too hard to make the pain blot out the pleasure. You gasp in surprise from it and Hwa spits in your hole before bringing his mouth around your clit. The sudden intensity has a loud noise escape from your mouth, louder than intended, but you are unable to help yourself. Hwa holds your legs apart as his tongue works against your clit.

To make the pleasure borderline dizzying, you can feel his tongue piercing against it. How many times have you gotten off to such a thing? Too many to count.

Hwa pulls away and brings his hand down sharply against your cunt again before plunging a finger into your hole. Your hips buck, a garbled noise leaving your mouth from all the different sensations occurring too quickly.

“Fuck, you’re so wet. I didn’t think it was fucking possible to be this wet,” Hwa sounds almost gleeful as he inserts a second finger, “Hold your legs back for me like a good slut.”

You obey, although it is difficult because everything feels so good that your hands sometimes almost slip. Spread out in front of Hwa, he brings his lips back to your clit, sucking on it hard, his tongue piercing pressed against your sensitive nub. You are making a lot of noise, pornographic noises as Hwa finger fucks you so fast that you can hear the lewd noises of your wet pussy squelching against his fingers.

Hwa’s fingers are deep in your hole, curling upwards as he pumps them in hard and fast. His tongue flicks across your clit now. Your head rolls back, and Hwa is right – there isn’t a single thought in your head. The pleasure is too great.

You hear him spit in your cunt before going back to your clit. He is finger banging you so hard and fast now that combined with his tongue on your clit, you’re going to cum. You try to tell him but all that leaves your mouth is gibberish.

It must make sense to Hwa though because he goes, “I know, whore. I can tell you’re close,” His voice shakes from the force of his fingers pumping into your cunt and you can feel his eyes on you. “You’re a lot of fun to fuck, has anyone told you that? It’s okay, you don’t have to answer. I know you can’t. I can tell your brain is blank. I told you I could give you that. I never lie. You look perfect like this. You’re dangerous, you know that? I might be in love with you by the end of the night because you’re just too perfect and fuckable.”

The words prove to be your tipping point. Your climax begins, your grip slipping on your legs as your juices gush out around Hwa’s fingers to the point where you think you’ve probably made a gigantic mess on his bed. But Hwa doesn’t seem to care and is instead making small noises of approval as you cum.

His face is buried in between your thighs as his tongue sinks into your hole, lapping your cum up eagerly. You are breathless, your entire body warm and tingling from the intensity of the orgasm. Hwa begins to kiss upwards, along your thighs, stomach, nipples and then your neck. His skin is feverish against yours and when the next kiss begins, you succumb to him completely.

He moves so that he is on his side, one arm along your waist as he turns you so that you’re facing him. Your tongue is in his mouth, your earlier anxiety about being with him like this long gone from how comfortable he has made you feel. The tips of his fingers trail up along your side until his hand is against your back. At the same time, he raises his knee up slowly in between your legs until your pussy is pressed against it.

Before you can even question yourself, your body reacts accordingly and grinds down against his knee. You can feel Hwa smile against your mouth as he mumbles, “Oh, you’re a fast learner.”

The compliment leaves you pleased, continuing to rub your swollen clit against his knee, knowing he is going to bring you to orgasm again. His room, which has always been a safe place whenever you watch him on streams, feels just as safe now, wrapped up in him.

The movements are slower this time around, as if Hwa is aware that going with such intensity for so long is new to you. He adjusts his position to make it easier to grind against his knee, sucking hard on your neck to leave another mark.

“Does that feel good?” He asks at one point and you manage to answer which he follows up with, “Do you want it to feel even better?”

You are unsure how such a thing is possible but with Hwa, you’re ready to do basically anything he suggests.

“I’m going to eat out that nice cunt of yours again while you suck on my cock,” His voice is soft, close to your ear as you rock your pussy against his knee, “Would you like to do that?”

You’d by lying if you said no, having thought about this very position multiple times during all your fantasies. “Y-yes, I want to do that.”

“Didn’t even have to think about it. Something you’ve thought about before then?” When you nod shyly, Hwa has that same pleased expression on his face, seeming to relish every filthy thought that has crossed your mind.

A bit out of your element with this one, you are hesitant to sit on his face but Hwa shows no such similar feeling. As the two of you adjust positions, Hwa pulls down on your hips to bring your pussy against his face without a second thought, his tongue burying itself in your hole. The sudden intensity makes you gasp and squirm in surprise which only leads to Hwa making a sound of muffled approval.

Trying to get your bearings while Hwa tastes your pussy, you tentatively lean forward towards his boxers. You can’t help yourself – your hands graze across his taunt stomach and along the snake tattoo with absolute relish, hardly believing that you are touching him. His muscles, always hard and on display whenever he shows off his body, are now underneath your fingers. There is no shyness with Hwa, just an enjoyment of sex, pleasure and attention which you both admire and desire at the same time.

Lowering his boxers, Hwa’s cock springs free, heavy against his stomach. It is admittedly difficult to focus on the task at hand when Hwa’s tongue is all over your pussy although you notice he is avoiding your clit to give you time to adjust.

Your hand wraps around his cock as you take him in your mouth for the second time tonight, somehow surpassing even your lowest expectations of how running into him could play out. As your tongue swirls around the head of his cock, Hwa moves his to your clit, making your body jerk against him reflexively. His hands glide to your hips, holding you in place while taking more of him in your mouth. You slide his length as far as it can go, maybe just overly excited to be sucking him off again, and when he hits the back of your throat, he slips out from in between your lips with a small gasp. Spit bubbles at the corners of your mouth and when you rub your hand across your lips, you leave a streak of drool and precum before taking him back in.

At the same time, Hwa groans against your cunt as his tongue flicks across your clit for a few seconds until he switches to sucking it hard with a small popping noise when he releases his hold. The sound is lewd and he does it again, just to hear it before returning to licking the overly sensitive nub.

One of your hands fondles his balls while sucking him, enjoying how it feels to have his cock in your mouth and how warm it is along your tongue. You bob your head on him as your spit runs down his length and onto his balls, making a mess. But you don’t stop, delirious between the pleasure of Hwa’s ministrations and his cock in your throat. He is slick with spit and precum and when Hwa flicks his tongue particularly hard, you end up taking more of him, gagging around it but keeping him still in your mouth. You try to relax your throat, letting him fill you up in a way that you’ve only dreamt about.

Hwa grunts, lifting his hips up just enough so that you choke around his cock again. This time you pull back and his cock slips out from in between your lips, lubricated with a mess of salvia and his precum. Wrapping your hand around his dick, feeling the warmth in your hand, you jerk him off. Your hand slips across his skin easily and you can tell he is close to cumming again.

So are you, for the matter, since Hwa has his face buried in your pussy and the pleasure he is experiencing doesn’t seem to slow him down for a second versus yourself. He sucks on your clit hard, his hands gripping your hips so that you can’t squirm away.

Unable to help yourself, your pussy grinds against his face. He seems to be getting off on being smothered by you, not stopping for a second, chasing your orgasm more than his own. You stop jerking him off to swallow his cock, taking as much as you can just as your climax begins. Your moans are a wet garbled mess against his cock. The pleasure is so intense that you know you’re making a mess all over Hwa’s beautiful face. But it seems to be the very thing that makes him finish as well. With one final buck of his slender hips, he is cumming once more in your mouth. From the angle this time, the cum spills out from in between your lips, down across his length as you try to swallow as much as the hot load that you can.

When you finally pull your head off his cock, your legs feel like jelly and every nerve in your body feels overstimulated. Gingerly rolling off him, you collapse onto the bed and give a small shake of your head, closing your eyes and panting, “Need a break.”

“Are you okay?” Hwa asks, sounding just as dazed as you feel.

“Y-yeah, just…haven’t had…this many orgasms so close together and done this much in such a short amount of time,” You manage to say in between catching your breath.

He rearranges himself so that he is laying next to you, also panting quietly. You can’t even imagine how you both look, a mess of sex and cum swathed in purple hues. For a while, neither of you speak. Your entire body is tingling, your legs like jelly. Typically, you weren’t one for just openly laying naked to someone after fooling around, usually wanting to run and cover yourself.

But you feel at ease with Hwa, which surprises you given the fact you have been lusting and daydreaming about him for so long through a screen. Hwa, of course, gives no thought to being openly naked. You doubt he has ever experienced a moment of self consciousness in his entire life.

He rolls onto his side to face you, staring at you with cat eyes in the dark. You tilt your face in his direction. The butterflies that had been sleeping through all the various forms of oral sex and fingering that occurred are now starting to stir.

Some of Hwa’s hair sticks to his forehead, his lithe body draped across the sheets, the snake curling across his side and disappearing onto his back. His lips are slightly swollen and you know he is smeared in your cum but he doesn’t seem to care. He is entirely at ease, forever comfortable in his skin.

You turn onto your side as well, close enough to touch him but neither reaches out for one another. In the silence of his room, you can hear that the storm must have begun at some point during all the sex but you hadn’t even noticed.

“What is it?” You ask nervously, unsure why he is looking at you in that way.

“Does it make you uncomfortable if I look at you?”

You think for a moment before answering, “No. I just get nervous.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. You might change your mind about what we are doing.”

“You think we’ve literally and figuratively come this far and I will decide not to fuck you?”

“Maybe.”

He laughs quietly as if the entire suggestion is hilarious. His hand brushes across your side up along your arm. The touch is as light as a feather but you feel it down in your core.

“No, I’m having too much fun with you,” He replies, “You weren’t thinking, were you? Earlier.”

“No, I wasn’t,” You admit, “True to your words.”

Hwa props himself up a little to look at you. His gaze is enough to melt you into the mattress. His hand presses softly onto your side so that you lay down on your back, looking upwards at him. His fingertips trail down across your stomach, making you shiver. He seems to be mentally filing away everything that elicits a reaction from you.

You reach upwards for him, pulling Hwa towards your body so that your lips are on his. His hair is bunched up in your hands as the kiss deepens. You can taste yourself on his lips; can he taste himself on yours? When the kiss ends, your hands move down his back, across the warm skin there. His eyes are a heavy thing on your body as you cast a look downward at his.

Your fingers are moving along his snake tattoo, something you have seen so many times on your phone screen now in front of you. Your hands trace the way it moves down from his shoulder, admiring the way it lays across his hips up to his stomach.

You are fairly confident that Hwa somehow knows what you’re thinking about and that is why he doesn’t speak, content to let you touch him like this.

That’s when the power goes out, the lightning flashing brightly through the closed window and the thunder making the walls rattle, ushering in darkness. The purple light which you have grown so accustomed to over both the camera and reality is snuffed out like a flame.

“Oh,” You say quietly in surprise.

Hwa’s hold on your side tightens for a second to reassure you that he is still there. Once again you are pulling him back down for a kiss. His lips still find yours in the darkness, his tongue in your mouth as he angles his body to press against yours. A sizzle seems to shoot up your spine – it is as if the darkness makes it easier to speak, to think, without seeing Hwa directly and having that attention on you.

Hwa’s hands are running across your body, touching you all over carefully, waiting for you to signal that you’re ready to keep going. His lips are back on your neck as he nibbles there, adding more marks to the collection. Emboldened by the darkness, your hand covers one of his and pulls it upward toward your neck.

He pauses, lifting his head up from your neck. You can feel his steady breath against your skin, can hear the low timber of his voice against the backdrop of the storm when he goes, “Tell me.”

“Squeeze my neck,” You murmur and Hwa does so, his hand tightening around your skin.

Your eyes flutter closed at the sensation. He is so close to you now that your body is starting to scream for him once more but he seems content to keep you lusting for him in the darkness.

“Do you like that?”

You nod, knowing he can feel the motion.

“You like being treated like this by me?”

Another nod.

His breathing is changing. Subtle, just enough for you to realize how much he is enjoying how you submit to him, that you’ve touched yourself to him doing these things to you before the two of you even met.

“You really are just a perfect little whore,” Hwa says, releasing his hold just enough for you to sharply inhale and then he tightens once more, “It’s a shame I can’t see you right now, see how beautiful you look with my hand around your neck.”

He lets go, fully removing his boxers, the ruffle of fabric as it is tossed onto the floor before he shifts onto your body. It is an intoxicating sensation to have him skin to skin and your hands curl around his shoulders as your legs wrap around his small waist.

His cock is hard pressing against your thigh. The next kiss is messier, his spit in your mouth, his entire being taking over all your senses. Unable to see him, you have to go off the other senses like the small grunt of approval he makes when you arch your hips in a silent plea to fuck you and the ragged change of his breathing.

Hwa slips inside you easily from all the orgasms, your pussy slick with your wetness and his spit. He fills you to the hilt, his hips meeting yours as you take his entire cock in one swift motion. Your head rolls back, a moan toppling from in between your swollen lips as your hold onto his shoulder tightens.

He curls around your body, gripping the sheets next to your head as he slowly thrusts in your cunt. You no longer feel like yourself but instead as a being intertwined with Hwa so that your senses overlap with one another. Hwa curses quietly and bites down on your earlobe, giving it a sharp tug with his teeth.

“My whore,” He growls in your ear with a sort of lust you’ve never heard from anyone else before especially directed at you, “You feel so good wrapped around my cock.”

His lips find yours and you tug on his bottom lip with your teeth which elicits a groan of approval of him. The kiss deepens, his tongue is in your mouth, and you can feel some spit getting on your chin. You don’t even know who it belongs to and you don’t care. You’re bucking your hips to meet his ever quickening thrusts, your bodies growing hot together as the fucking continues.

“Say it again,” You plead in a broken voice and you don’t need to clarify what you’re asking to be repeated.

“My whore,” He grunts and thrusts particularly hard, driving his cock deeper in your soaking wet cunt, “You going to let me fuck you again after this? No more needing to watch my streams, I’ll fuck you into my fucking mattress any time you want.”

The words are too good to be true and you hope he isn’t just saying them because of how turned on he is. Your reply is a broken plea, half gibberish, half words and Hwa pushes away from you, grabbing your legs and bringing your feet onto his shoulders.

He leans forward, folding you like a doll as his hips snap against yours at a brisk pace. Your pussy is obscenely wet and you can hear it even if you cannot see him. Unable to hold onto Hwa, your hands grip the bedsheets so hard that they might tear.

“Hwa,” You gasp out and he knows – he knows because his hands are back around your neck and he’s fucking you into the bed, squeezing your throat while pounding into your cunt.

“You like when I choke you like this, you little whore? I know you do. I don’t even need to see your face to know how much you love it. I can tell by how your pussy tightens around me, by your whimpers and moans,” He says in an unsteady voice, sounding like sandpaper as his own orgasm draws just as close as yours, “Fuck, your pussy feels so good. Where do you want my load? You already took two of them down your throat, my slut.”

Hwa lets go of your neck but his pace is relentless. You are seconds away from finishing but manage to gasp out, “In my pussy, finish in my pussy. Choke me while I cum.”

Hwa, just like the rest of the night, where he has maintained the illusion of control while you’ve been the one in command, obeys. His hands are back where they belong and with one final thrust, you’re climaxing yet again.

“F-fuck,” He grunts, “You’re too tight clamping down on me like that –” His hands are off your neck, gripping the bed sheets next to your head once again.

Hwa shudders as he unloads in your cunt, filling you up with his warmth as you rock your hips against him, making sure that every drop of his cum is inside you. The two of you are making a ton of noise together as the final climax of the night goes on. Hwa pulls away from you so that your legs flop against the bed and his hands move to your back, pressing you against him.

He is kissing you as your climax winds down. Your bodies are slick with sweat, a collection of limbs wrapped around one another as if one of you, both of you, are afraid to lose each other in the darkness. As your intense orgasm begins to subside, Hwa lowers his head against your chest. The sound of your panting fills your ears; it feels as if you just ran a race.

Perfectly timed, the power returns. The purple light fills the room, making you wince as your eyes grow adjusted to the soft hue. Hwa carefully untangles himself from you, sitting up and running his fingers through his hair. His back is to you, the snake once again in your clear view.

His cum is smeared against your thighs, leaking out from in between your folds. You have never had this many orgasms in one night before and your entire body is exhausted.

Hwa slips out of the bed, opening the door and leaving, giving no care to his nakedness on display. You can see a light flick on in the kitchen, spilling into the narrow hallway as he rummages around for water. When he returns, he has two bottles as he shuts the door again before getting back into bed.

You prop yourself up, uncapping the water and drinking half of it promptly. Hwa finishes his entire bottle in a few gulps before turning his attention to you, who is now preoccupied with trying to get the sheet to cover up your body a bit.

“Getting modest on me?” He asks, still slightly of breath.

Your face grows warm at his words, grows warmer when he moves closer to you, draped out across the bed. Now that you can see him again, and his full attention is on you with no buffer, you feel shy – utterly ridiculous given what you just spent ages doing with him.

“Did you mean what you said?” You ask suddenly.

He raises one eyebrow, and distantly you think he would look good with a piercing there too. “Be a little more specific?”

Your grip tightens around the water bottle and it crackles a little from the pressure. “About us doing this again. About me being your….” You trail off, swallowing hard.

Hwa breaks out in a slow grin and goes, “Yeah, I meant it. I think we could have a lot of fun together,” He hesitates, the first time since meeting him, and adds, “I think it could be more than fun, if you understand what I mean.”

You did and it is enough to capitulate your heart into the stratosphere. He leans forward and his lips are against yours in the softest kiss of the night. The hold on the water bottle lessens as you melt into it, into him. His hands are on your cheeks, thumbs brushing your skin. When the kiss breaks, there is a shifting of energy that feels almost like a release of all the tension and anxiety that has bubbled in your chest ever since you stumbled into his stream all that time ago.

“My little whore,” Hwa says so affectionally that it feels like a cosmic shift in the usage of the word forever.

And he kisses you again.

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