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coconutdays · 6 months

Text

seat taker

s. you have a crush on the smartest and sexiest guy in your lit class who happens to ride a motorcycle with spooky season around the corner. what ever might happen?

w.c. 10.6k

w. fem! reader, biker!geto! x reader , fluff!, smut! (its more so toward the end so u can read until it cuts off to that lol if u want)

a/n: based on this idea I posted about biker!geto from uni lol, I didn't really proofread so ill get to that sometime later after I shower and eat lol just wanted to get this out

"go sit next to him then."

you take a nervous gulp from your water bottle as you walk to your lit class. the effort was a bit clumsy considering you were using one hand to open and close it while the other held your phone, your friend on the other line.

"never, would I ever have the balls to do that. i may be confident but I am not as delusional as the caveman gym bro that took your seat so he could sit next to me in anthropology."

she laughs on the other end, a hysterical giggle at your backtalk.

"well then he's just gonna keep thinking you're creepy cause you stare."

you let out a haughty scoff, "as if I acknowledge his existence." a finger of yours goes up in the air, as if she could see you being a smartass about your discretion, "I never look at him. I only get in a glance or two when he asks the professor a question or when he raises his hand to answer a question."

"you're insane."

"unfixable." you sigh prettily and proudly before giving a more serious response to her first suggestion, "and it would be really awkward if I sat next to him either way. the class is packed and everyone has their assigned unassigned seats, the white haired guy that always sits next to him would probably push me off his seat if he ever saw me there."

"that is true. some girl did that to me in stats and I was like ??? have you not been sitting somewhere else this entire semester? pissed me off that I had to sit somewhere else and take someone's seat."

you're about five seconds away from your lecture hall door when you add to her complaint.

"right. and then that person looks at you funny cause you took their seat and then argh–its just a fucking domino effect." you turn around and take a step into the class, the sight before you bringing emphasis to the last words that you meant to finish off with, "fuck seat takers..."

"huh. what was that last part?"

your classroom is full. every one of the 200 seats are seemingly just taken. it's a sight you're not used to when you walk into class. normally, when you decide to go in, about half of the class is there, and you were starting to curse the fact that you gave yourself the luxury to finish the last of your reading for next week ahead of time. those ten minutes didn't seem like they'd make a difference, they sure do now...

with white haired guy sitting in YOUR seat.

its across the lecture hall from where he normally sits, next to Geto, who just so conveniently has an empty seat next to him, the only empty seat.

poker face, poker face, poker face.

it's all you repeat to yourself as you walk up the carpet steps to the row where Geto is sitting and try to continue the conversation with your friend.

there's no white noise, some people are typing away at their computers and others are chatting with the person next to them or near them, so it gives you room to explain yourself a little without being heard.

"everybody's already in class, and white haired guy is in my seat dude, and guess which seat isn't fucking taken." there's an edge to your voice, however it lays undetectable with your calm face.

"WAITTTTTTTT. AHAHA–"

you can feel your body heating up in nerves when you start walking between Geto's row, to the seat next to him.

"stop f/n. I am on the verge of committing a serious crime. I'm going to actually end up in handcuffs by the end of today. the–"

"AHAHAHAHAHAHA." She keeps laughing at you as you force yourself to not care that you're pulling out and sinking into the chair next to Geto. If he acknowledged you, you wouldn't have known, his mere presence something you deleted from your mind in order to process the current events before you right now.

a high pitched and drawn out HA is the last of her laughs you hear before she speaks again, "I basically manifested this for you. you should be thanking me."

"fuck your manifesting. I'm not excited for this." you don't care to filter your voice into a whisper, it stays at its normal tone even though you're next to Geto because he didn't even know what the conversation was about anyway.

you balance your phone between your shoulder and cheek while you begin to take out your iPad and journal for class.

"ask him for a ride on his motorcycle after heh." she pokes at you and you feel like you can hear her poking out her tongue in malevolence.

even though you're slightly grumpy at your predicament, you manage to make a comment accompanied by a sigh, "with the way midterms are looking, id need a different kind of ride."

"you can ask him for that too~"

"shut up, you menace."

"hehe," she strikes evilly, "well, I'll leave you to your class with your boyfriend."

"no, stop, the class doesn't even–"

"bye!"

and she hung up on you, leaving you to flip mindlessly through your notebook while you try to ignore the presence of the hot hot hot piece of sexiness next to you.

suguru geto has been at the forefront of your mind for weeks now. you had always slightly admired him from afar, considering your actual seat in the lecture hall was across the room from him. he was undeniably attractive, with his long black always tied up in a bun and clean outfits. and his intelligence, he was always one to garner thoughtful debates in class in response to the professors teachings. his calmness towards everything was enough to make you swoon at the thought go him being that patient with you too.

and his stupid motorcycle, the thing that made it all click for you.

you had been walking to the library after class to meet with your classmate to work on an anthropology presentation when you caught a glimpse–stare–of him getting onto a motorcycle and pulling a helmet over his head before he quickly rode off to wherever he was going. for some reason, it really got your gears grinding and wishing you could just jump this man and do some truly desperate things.

he was all you thought about after. none of the other cute guys in your classes could hold a candle to the being that is suguru geto, renouncing you into a pining mess that looked forward to every lit class–even though you pretended you didn't care for him.

god, what even was the point in all of this if you weren't ever going to make a move? if he just SPOKE to you first maybe you could get some rizz in–

"you have pretty handwriting."

"I–what?"

you perk up like a deer in headlights at the sudden voice of Geto, wondering if you're the one he's speaking to.

and he is, he's spinning a pen between his fingers while he looks at you, slightly gesturing towards the journal in your hands, your cursive covering the pages of it.

"oh!" you're still caught off guard, doe eyes in the face of his sudden and scary, to you, comment, "thank you. can't even read it sometimes though, it's like trying to understand another language when I have to study what I write after."

he smiles slightly at your comment, a whisp of his dark hair swaying near his right eye, "I think it'd be cool to try and translate."

you resist the urge to curl into a ball and wish he would just look away from you, but you persevere, holding out your journal to him.

"be my guest." you say without hesitance

he sets his pen aside when he grabs it, immediately flipping through the pages and starting to skim through your notes, his eyes moving side to side as he does. you get a good view of him while he goes about trying to decipher your writings. he's wearing a black shirt today, it's not exactly tight, but not loose either. it gives you the perfect view of his arms bulging a bit, his biceps' size is an eye sore for you.

he's wearing these black stud earrings too, only visible because of the bun that he keeps his long hair. you wish you could see how long his hair actually was sometimes, he had never worn it down to class.

"looks like I'm more versed in your cursive than you are." he glances at you, a faint smile on his lips

your eyebrows raise a little and your eyes widen, "what? you can read it?"

he closes the journal and slides it to your spot on the very long lecture table. geto then leans over to your side a bit, close to your ear, and starts to point across the room to his white haired friend.

"see that idiot with the pitch black glasses?"

the question sends chills down your spine, the proximity making your heart race.

"y-yeah."

"silver spoon baby. learned cursive when he was four and it's basically incomprehensible unless you've been sharing notes with him since high school."

a laugh flows out of your lips, etching a smile on your face. your shoulder slightly bumps into his chest from it before you turn your head to directly face his.

"and I'm taking it that you're well versed in his cursive then too?"

he looks at you with a slight dreaminess in his eyes, his height still domineering over you even if you were both seated next to each other.

"have to be, would have failed lots of class projects if I didn't"

you take the opportunity to poke about the whereabouts of his friend in your seat now that he's been mentioned.

"and why's he sitting over there then?" you blink up at him for a response

at this, geto sinks back to his original position on his chair, face a million miles away from yours now as he goes back to fiddling with his pen.

"he's...trying to flirt with the girl he's talking to right now." he shakes his head a little, although there isn't much of a disappointed look in his face, it's more entertained. he was probably used to his friend's antics by now.

"ah. at least it looks like she's into it." you dispense the weight of your head onto the palm of your hand as you look at his friend with him, "could not have been me."

"what?"

you don't turn to look at him as you respond, "this Andrew Tate gym bro took my friend's seat to sit next to me in my anthropology class the other day. tried speaking to me like those guys who swear all you need is a computer to become a millionaire. worst ninety minutes of my life."

you hear a puff of a laugh from geto

"I can guarantee you Gojo has better skills than that. he's probably talking about his Halloween party for this weekend."

you flip your head to look at him suddenly, "he's that guy?"

every big party that everyone talked about on campus was always held by Gojo. they had numerous amounts of beers and liquor bottles. always the best music, the best hookup stories, the best snacks, everything. you hadn't put a face to the name until now, although it should've clicked when you found out Geto's name. his was always being paired with Gojo, as some would put it, two pretty best friends.

geto could see the gears turning in your head and his eyes creased a little at your realization in a smile, "yea, that's the guy."

you're a bit taken aback by his confirmation and turn to take another look at gojo before looking back at geto.

amused, geto speaks again, "by all means, go for it, he's–"

you quickly shake your head and stretch out both your hands to frantically do the same, "no, god, no. i'm not into him. it's just I didn't know that was him. I always hear good things about his parties."

geto nods, "he has an affinity for making sure everyone has a good time. you ever been to one?"

you shake your head, "never, haven't had the chance to or been invited."

"you should go to the Halloween one." geto suggests, gesturing his pen in your direction before going back to spinning it around his fingers, "you know where it is?"

you shake your head again, now completely facing his direction, the attention you were giving to his friend gone and now placed on him.

geto gestures towards your journal and reaches for it, "may I?"

you nod, curious at what he was going to do.

he flips the journal and opens the very last page, guaranteed to be blank and begins writing something on it.

when he pushes it back to your side of the table, you can see what he's written now, an address.

"that's where the frat house is."

you wiggle your eyebrows a little at him, "you in the frat too?"

geto laughs fully this time and shakes his head, "no. I have my own apartment. that's just gojo's thing."

you acknowledge him and look over the address written on your journal, "I'll think about it. have to wear my costume somewhere right?"

"what is it?" he tilts his head curiously, genuine interest in what you would choose to dress up as.

you try to bite back the smile at the knowledge you have of your costume and choose to leave it up in the air for him, tapping your journal on his shoulder.

"now that is something for you to find out if you see me at the party."

just how it's entailed in mean girls, you dress up slutty for gojo's halloween party. you wore a playboy bunny costume, close to one of the sluttier things you can wear, but it's rare recently for girls to wear as opposed to the trendy fairy and angel costumes lately.

although it isn't exactly halloween yet, its the first out of the two parties gojo was holding in honor of the holiday. next weekend there would be another one on the actual day, but you didn't know if you'd go that one yet, you were going to see what this one was all about though.

you brought your friend with you, hooking her up with the address geto provided you because she had been aching to go to one of gojo's parties too.

your eyes light up when you see geto's sleek black motorcycle parked near the garage as the both of you walk to the door.

"god, there's so many people inside." your friend all but screeches in excitement and you would too if it weren't for the nerves of impending doom that geto, your everything crush and classmate, was going to see you wearing this.

the chills that come from the thought make you rub your shoulders for heat as you walk inside and the blaring of the music becomes even more booming now that it isn't being shielded by the walls of the house.

"where do you think the drinks are?" you try to speak up, a trace of small worry at bumping into geto laced in your voice.

she raises her head up and looks around to see where she could spot the alcohol until she starts dragging you by the hand, "the kitchen is over here I think!"

she pushes the both of you past clusters of people, paving the way for her desire for vodka and it makes you bump into someone a bit roughly.

you try to voice out your apology quickly as she keeps dragging you along, looking back at who you just bumped into.

it's geto.

his eyes show mild surprise, not one for entirely showing his emotions, they're widened a bit and he looks a bit taken aback while his eyes rake up and down your body–still being dragged away. he's not wearing a costume, sporting a white t-shirt and jeans instead.

the words of apology you were going to utter fall off as you make eye contact and realize it was him you bumped into, he who just got an obvious look at your costume.

you're glad the speed of your friend makes the interaction short lived due to her lightning speed in suddenly bringing you to the kitchen, which is lined with beer and liquor of all kinds, every space of the spacious kitchen taken up by alcohol.

you hurriedly reach to serve yourself a cup of strawberry vodka, hoping that the first sip and those after might make your nerves dilute. when you turn around to talk to your friend, who's probably already served herself straight flavorless vodka, she's being flirted with by her anthropology club crush. she gives you a quick glance, a combination of 'oh my god oh my god' and 'sorry' being communicated to you.

you smile at her knowingly and point towards where everyone was dancing and talking, marking that that's where you would be while you left her to go as far as she wanted with the boy in front of her.

you're halfway through the crowd to make it to the patio when a voice is suddenly in your ear from behind.

"is it as cool as people say?"

you jump at the intrusion and cradle the cup of vodka to your chest and look at who just spoke to you.

it's geto, exactly behind you, his large frame towering over your body and leaned over so you could hear him.

you're stopped in your tracks and turn around to face him now, trying hard not to feel intimated by your basically half naked right in front of him.

"yeah!" you nod

geto turns his head a little from his spot at least a foot above you and leans down again, at level heads with you

"sorry, say that again." he looks at you earnestly, wanting to be able to properly hear your answer with the loud music echoing into your ears and his.

"I said yeah! I didn't know parties could be this packed!" you say, taking a nervous sip from your cup as you look at him

"what happened to your friend?" geto keeps his posture the way it is to keep talking to you

"the guy she likes started talking to her!" you exclaim past the loud blare of music.

"ah." he nods, taking a quick glance to the kitchen and spotting your friend smiling eagerly at the guy in a jason costume in front of her. "what are you going to do then?"

you blink cluelessly, haven't actually thought about until he asked you.

"dance!" you look around the room so he could look with you. bodies pressed against each other and bodies dancing by themselves all across the room.

geto smiles and straightens himself before reaching a hand out to you and gives you a look of 'wanna take it?'

you can't help the bashful smile that makes its way to your face as you hesitantly take his hand. he softly brings you closer to him, not as close as the other horny bodies in the room, but it's a little intimate and makes you feel intoxicated. he puts his other hand high on your waist, making sure to avoid the sluttiness beneath that line of your torso considering your outfit, and he starts to sway the both of you to the music. he holds you to himself with you hook an arm over his shoulder and use the other hand to hold your drink, singing along to the music with a toothy smile.

it was playful, the interaction with him, a fun setting between the both of you. the combination of that and the large heap of strawberry vodka you served yourself and managed to finish by the second song with him were the reason for your increasing comfortable nature with him. you were laughing and laying your head on his chest frequently through your endless bursts of energy and gasping breaths for relief.

he was smiling throughout the entirety of it, never getting too comfortable though, and keeping his hands where they had originally been.

"I just wanna be one of your girls tonight!" you sing at the top of your lungs.

geto lets go of one of the hands encircling you and instead reaches for one of the hands splayed across his shoulder and chest, caressing it with a thumb.

you tug at him a little with your other hand and he leans down to hear what you're about to say.

"wanna get drinks?" you ask, craving a sweet hard seltzer instead of another pour of vodka.

"you want something?" geto asks you back

"are there any strawberry drinks?" you blink up at him

geto looks like he's thinking for a second, trying to remember the usual drinks his best friend caters, before he nods, "yeah there are. want me to get you one?"

you nod eagerly at him and follow him to kitchen. he had taken a hold of your hand when he noticed you were going to accompany him, he didn't want you to struggle getting through all those people.

he had been bent over to look through a cooler on the floor before he stood up and held out a strawberry daiquiri to you, "here."

"thank you." you nod before you jump and sit on the countertop so you could rest and drink

you notice geto doesn't have a drink in his hand when he leans against the kitchen island in front of you.

"you didn't want a drink?"

geto shakes his head calmly, "gotta drive back."

"oh." you remember his motorcycle from earlier near the garage and strike another question so he doesn't know that you know he has a motorcycle. incredible logic.

"what kinda car do you have?"

"ah, not a car, a motorcycle." he smiles slightly, the answer was humble

"oh~"you drag out–as if it was new information to you–and continue drinking from your bottle.

"you have a ride back home though?" geto asks, crossing his arms over his chest so he could be more comfortable while listening to you.

"uhh," you reach for your phone and see a message from your friend asking if it was okay for her to go to McDonalds with her crush, "well I was going to uber with my friend, but she just had a change of plans."

"I can take you home." he offers genuinely, tilting his head in await for your answer.

"In your motorcycle?!" you blurt out

he starts laughing heartily at your answer and smirks at you when he speaks again, "never been on one?"

"no." you shake your head, a bit intimidated, "what if I fall. im literally naked im gonna get cut up by the road."

geto smiles at you, "that's a fair concern, but I'll give you my helmet and let you borrow my jacket, it's big, it should cover you up a bit no?"

although the alcohol leaves your brain empty, you think it over which involved nothing but staring at him in supposed 'thought' before you nod, "okay."

"can I give you my number? so you can send me your address?" geto asks, shuffling a little bit closer to you

"mhm." you hand your phone to him and watch as he types away into your phone before he hands it back to you. when you stare back at his contact name, suguru geto, it makes a dawn of realization wash over you.

"you don't know my name, rig–"

"y/n."

you do a double take at how fast he says it and his eyes crease at your reaction.

"what?"

"you get involved in the lectures a lot." he takes note for you

"oh." you sink back into yourself

"do you know mine?"

you shyly respond with a, "yea, you get involved a lot too..."

"good to know." he grins a little, watching as you take the last sip of your drink and gesturing back towards the dancing scene, "wanna go back?"

"yeah." you confirm softly, taking the hand he gives you so you can get off the countertop smoothly. and when your feet touch the ground, you yelp, "ow ow ow ow!"

the hour of pure dancing and jumping around had not been a good rival for your new and tall heels. they were a height you had walked before, but the shoes themselves were new and not worn in, causing a great deal of pain across your entire foot.

geto held you by just below your armpits, the worry he had seeping through in his widened eyes and his leaning over to see if he find out what was wrong with you.

"what's wrong?" he asks quickly

"the heels," you scrunch up your nose in pain and sigh, "they hurt like a bitch now that I got a bit of rest."

you can tell geto feels bad about your pain by the way he grimaces for you and plants you on the countertop again. he suddenly kneels down and begins to work at the clasps of your heels.

"you can borrow my shoes. that sound alright?" he looks up at you from where he's at, already sliding one of the heels from your feet.

you're quick to deny, "but what about you?"

"satoru and I are the same size, I can just ask him for a pair, he has a million."

you give in at his response, embarrassed, "okay."

"you want me to take you home now?" he lightheartedly smiles as he works on the other heel, "I think you can walk in my shoes, but dancing doesn't seem doable."

"well yea." you say dejectedly, a little frown etching itself on your face when he finally comes back up, his lips quirk up a little when he sees it

"wait for me here then." he says, putting your shoes next to you on the countertop before he walks off a little hurriedly to you assume gojo's room.

when geto walks you to his motorcycle, he takes your heels and puts them in the compartment box of it for you, then takes his helmet and immediately puts it on your head.

an 'oomf' leaves your mouth at the sudden weight of it and he looks a little amused as he starts working at the straps of it.

"there you go."

he smirks a little as he looks at the, very large in comparison to you, helmet, and picks up his jacket that he brought back from gojo's room to put on you.

"there we go" he sighs, almost like he's proud of himself and gets on the motorcycle, turning his torso a little to pat behind him for you to get on too.

when you get on and take in the feeling of sitting on a motorcycle for the first time, he's turned around and looking at his phone, pinching and zooming in on the route to your apartment.

"you actually live pretty close to me." he murmurs, noting what roads to take.

"yeah?" you yawn, laying your head on his back

"alright," geto says, starting up his motorcycle, revving it up a bit, "hug me tight okay?"

you nod sleepily and wrap your arms around him, brain so eased by the alcohol in your system that you don't overthink it, as if your sober self wouldn't be screaming and crying on the inside during this exact situation.

geto drives off at a decent pace, some part of you thinking that this might not be the speed he normally drives off and that he was taking it a bit slower just for you. you could feel him breathe in and out all throughout the ride, his chest and stomach were rising and falling underneath your touch. you fell half asleep on him halfway through it, managing to grasp onto him like a child with their stuffed animal, and unable to resist the heaviness of your eyelids.

you blink back to reality at the sudden stop of movement, the stilling air was no longer brushing past your skin and the noise of wheels screeching against the road was gone.

after geto helps you get his helmet off, he hangs it on one of the handles and takes your heels out of the compartment box.

"this is your place right?"

another yawn flutters past your mouth again and you hold out your pointer finger to say yes.

"alright." geto says, watching as you lead the way into and through your apartment and to your place. he had placed a ghost of his hand near your back in case you started to trip up from his shoes considering their size in comparison to your feet. the walk was quiet considering your focus on making it to your door and the overwhelming sleepiness dawning on you.

when you get to your door you slip off geto's shoes and them to him, taking your heels from him in return.

"thank you, geto." you hold try not to yawn again, doe eyes sleepily fluttering at him

"you can call me by my first name." he comments comfortingly, "and no problem. see you in class?"

"yeah." and this time you do yawn, again, before you open your door and walk inside, looking at him while you hold onto the frame.

"alright then." he looks down at you from across the doorway, one hand in his pocket, the other holding onto his shoes, "get some rest okay?"

"okay." you almost murmur, your bed calling out to you.

you get to class at the time you usually do the following class meeting. the weather forecast had been a little chilly, so you opted for a cozy, off the shoulder sweater. it was fashionable and you had been dying to use it the moment you saw the weather forecast the night before.

you're scribbling notes onto your iPad this time, going over lecture notes from your earlier class that day. there were some things you forgot to add and that's what you always used this time for before class started. you see the class start filling in minute by minute out of your peripheral vision as you do this.

your habit of pretending to not care about suguru's presence is still existent, so all you can see for a fleeting second when you look into your backpack for a mint is that he is indeed sitting at his normal spot with gojo.

there was no chance to look at him that day in class, he hadn't spoken, which wasn't really rare, sometimes you wouldn't speak in class either. you, however, did speak in class that day, the module that the professor was teaching that day had piqued your interest a great amount and thus called for a great amount of your interaction with the lesson.

by the end of class, you were setting quick reminders on the notes you had taken of what was the most important before you started packing your bag to leave. the sound of feet and shuffling to leave the class a bit noisy, but it could let you make out the distant loud voice of gojo, probably talking to suguru.

"I have been on my best behavior. I do not know what you mean by that Suguru." "No no no that was a favor, look where it got you." "Oh you are such a wuss."

It was only a little appealing considering the fact that you couldn't hear what suguru was saying and the things that gojo was saying didn't let you get any clues as to what they were talking about. oh well.

you wanted to go home and start studying for a test tomorrow, so you started walking out of class, past suguru and gojo's line of view.

you heard a smack, like one of them had hit the other.

and gojo's voice, "idiot."

you were sitting at your desk, going over the last of your test review when you felt your phone buzz across the desk and picked it up

suguru

hey

y/n

suguru

you wanna take satoru's seat next class?

y/n

he wants to flirt with mika again?

suguru

not rlly lol.

y/n

?????

suguru

I think it'd be cool to switch desk buddies every once in a while ;)

y/n

lmaooo. I won't tell mika if that's what you're scared of

suguru

haha, that's not rlly the case, but just take his seat

y/n

okay?

when you go to class again that same week, you hesitantly take gojo's seat. there was no follow up text from suguru after you said your okay and it was a little off putting. of course it had only been that night and the day after that he hadn't texted again, but it was a little weird, especially for it being the very first text conversation he strikes with you. the only thing that had been exchanged between either of you in your messages had been your address to him from gojo's party.

there were no notes for you to go over, there was no test or important knowledge that you had to use soon in any upcoming classes, so you were left to wait for the class to begin while you aimlessly scrolled through your phone and watched people come into class.

three minutes had passed before suguru and gojo were walking into class together. gojo was rubbing his friend's shoulder rather roughly, a fang filled smile on his face as he said something to him. suguru didn't seem to mind it, like many things, his eyes still had that warmth they always had, but it looked like he had said something back.

gojo playfully shoved suguru forward by the back before he laughed evilly and walked to your original seat, if you were right, you could see his bright blue eyes flick to you for a second behind his glasses before he smiled at the girl he flirted with last week.

you look up at suguru as he finally gets to the seat next to you.

"hey." he sighs with a smile as he plops into the seat.

"hey." you smile only halfway, a little tired from staying up to finish a homework the night before.

"sorry about the cryptic texts." he starts to apologize, moving his chair a little closer to yours, "satoru took my phone."

ah. that's why it seemed so out of character

"it's fine." you reassure, "they were a little off putting to read."

suguru scratches at the back of his neck, "I'm sorry about that. I meant to text after but I felt awkward."

"really? about?"

for the first time, you see him stumble on what to say, hesitance obvious when he opens and closes his mouth for a painfully slow second before he manages to respond, "to see if you were coming to the party on actual Halloween night this weekend."

"oh." your mouth opens in a little oh, oblivious to what he really wanted to say, "I'm not too sure. my friend that I went to the party with is spending it with that same guy she left with. so I don't have anyone to go with. plus I already used my costume."

"what's wrong with using the playboy bunny costume again?"

you eye him, disappointed, and lean over to flick his forehead, "i...am not an outfit repeater, suguru. the people who saw me at last week's party are going to remember me and say 'she's using the same costume again, what a loser'"

he gazes back at you as if you pat his head instead of just flicking it, warmth and a hint of mischief seeping into his stare, "you're right, you did catch a lot of attention."

"what?"

suguru leans back in his seat and answers, "you looked beautiful. it was hard to ignore."

"for who?"

"for me and every guy with eyes at the party."

he seems calm and confident when he says it, but his cheeks and ears start to get a slight pinkish hue as he awaits your response.

you try to keep looking at him, fighting the need to look away and wait for the professor to start class, your flustered face saying all too well what you're feeling, "what am I supposed to say to that?"

"you don't have to." suguru moves forward, positions his feet to face you as well as his face, and puts his elbow on the table, slanting his body onto it a little, "The president of gojo's frat asked for your name. He really liked you."

"Zenin?!"

"You like him?" he asks, with the tone of a guy who would try to set you up with the president if you said yes.

you shake your head, gaze looking down in embarrassment, "no no. it just caught me off guard..."

"if you like Toji it's fine," he tries to lower his head so he could catch your eye again, speaking earnestly yet something about it sounds like it's fake, it's weird, "he's like a dog, treat him well and he's loyal. although he can be brutally possessive, probably the type to leave hickeys on your legs if you're going to be with him and wear a costume like the one from the party."

"no, I don't like him. he's not my type." you answer meekly, having felt a bit of pressure from his boasts of the frat president.

"no?"

"no."

and before he can continue with his intense conversation again, you're saved by your professor, dramatically entering the class and bellowing for all of you to pay attention to him.

when your class ends, you try and succeed at scampering away from suguru before he can get a word out. as if she possessed magical powers, your friend called you the moment your professor ended the lesson. within the millisecond her name popped up on your phone, you grabbed at your phone at put it to your ear.

"hello?"

"hey hey! I have a question!"

you pay no mind to suguru as you haul your backpack over your shoulders and begin to walk out of class.

"what's up?"

"do you want the extra halloween costume I bought? levi is taking me to dinner on halloween for our date and I won't get to use it."

"the fembot costume?!"

you can almost makeout the banter between suguru and gojo a way's away behind you as you walk down the concrete steps of the building.

"yeah! you can go to gojo's party in it!" she beams, before her voice gains a bit of malice, "you can dance with motorcycle guy again~"

"go there by myself?" you groan, almost wanting to stomp your feet on the pavement beneath you

"lots of girls go by themselves to parties!"

"well I've never done that." you grumble

"aw come on. use the costume and go for me. pretty pleaseeeee."

"I'm going to give you a reason to be scared on halloween if this goes south for me. got it?"

it's cold when you get to gojo's party and you're beyond psyched out of your mind. from the unbelievably slutty costume that let everyone see your naked body in panties due to sheer babydoll material and the fear of coming across a very handsome suguru or toji zenin, who as handsome as he was might be able to seduce you, but you didn't want him like you did suguru.

you're more conscious of the stares now, due to suguru's previous comment and the fact that this costume was way more revealing.

on instinct you rush to the kitchen and get a strawberry daiquiri like the one suguru got for you exactly a week ago. you didn't want to get drunk tonight considering you came by yourself, so reaching for the strawberry vodka again was not within your list of options.

your eyes were on high alert as you pushed yourself through the countless bodies dancing, trying to remain unseen.

it doesn't give you cause to hide for some reason, considering he's suguru's friend, but you see satoru strut to the kitchen in a slutty firefighter costume. he was wearing the pants and boots, and nothing on top but a set of suspenders. classic.

however, you do a double take when you suguru geto wearing that same exact costume. you swear you feel your eye twitch in frustration when your eyes see his hair finally down, splayed across his back and chest, and get a peek of a tattoo tracing his spinal structure, bone for bone, going all the way up his back until it gets interrupted by his hair. his arms are practically calling to you when he fist bumps a toji zenin wearing a prisoner costume, they flex and bulge at the action. his abs are all perfectly prominent and–

he just made eye contact with you.

you hadn't gojo walk up to him and whisper something into his ear, probably that you were here.

fuck you satoru gojo.

suguru smiles immediately and turns to walk to you, leaving you to stay in place and not run away from him.

"you bought another costume?"

"no," you feel your chest heave at the sight of him, breath getting caught in your throat with his very shirtless self right in front of you. it makes you look off to a girl dancing behind him when you continue, "my friend gave me hers because she didn't end up dressing up."

"you want me to bring zenin?" he points a thumb behind him, towards the kitchen, face the definition of calm and suave.

you glare at him this time and take a sip of your daiquiri

"what? feeling shy?" he smiles down at you, if he weren't such a peaceful seeming person, you would have said it was condescending

"I'm not into zenin." a tinge of irritation already seeping into your voice.

"you sure?" he moves closer to you, your face right smack in front of his chest.

"yes." you jut your chin at him, done with his shenanigans

his lips twitch a little when he tugs your strawberry daiquiri out of your hands, grabs you by the neck, thumb close to your chin, and says, "open your mouth." he immediately starts to chug from your daiquiri and the thought of realization dawns on you of what he was about to do.

you open your mouth and he pushes his body closer to yours as he spits the drink into your mouth, his eyes solely on yours as he does it besides for when he briefly looks at something or someone behind you rather haughtily. he's still holding you and intently watching when you swallow it down immediately. that familiar happy crease of his eyes sketched itself across his face after.

you're heaving a little, star struck by the action the both of you just committed, "what was that suguru?"

"scaring off zenin. you don't want him right?"

his eyelids flutter a bit, something yours did whenever they were sleepy and it makes you search into his eyes more. your curiosity dying when you see the sudden red veins clouding the whites of his eyes. and you push him off.

"are you kidding me? you're high?"

"and drunk." he smiles, not minding your pushing him off and still inserting himself into your personal space again.

you try to speak and can't, solely out of irritation at the fact that he did that because of his intoxicated state. you bite your lip to stop yourself from overreacting and settle for shaking your head.

"you don't like guys who smoke?" he asks, genuine concern laced with his stupid crossed persona at the moment, "I tend to never smoke, but satoru passed me his joint when I was already at the 'whatever happens' point of a tequila bottle ."

"I really don't care about that in a guy, as long as he's not a musty constant weed user that can never cope with his life." you roll your eyes at him slightly, "but you just spit alcohol into my mouth because you're crossed as fuck."

"no." he scoffs, now entirely entranced in his conversation with you.

"yes."

"I spit alcohol into your mouth so zenin wouldn't come up to you."

the response makes you cross your arms over each other, "a simple 'hey she's not into you like that' would have sufficed."

"where's the fun in that?" its a serious question for him, you can tell by the way he patiently waits for your answer

irked, you look up at the ceiling while biting your cheek, trying to gather yourself again before you say, "sober up geto." and turning to walk away.

you made it your mission to stay hidden the entire party, having entered the deal with your best friend that if the night turned sour for you, she would come with her boy whatever to pick you up in his car

after their date.

which wasn't going to end until an hour or two.

the garage had stayed open to the enormous frat house, although there weren't any people in it. people had respected the space, leaving the miscellaneous in it untouched such as the two cars and...suguru's bike.

you eyed it from the rather comfy bean bag in the darkest corner of the garage, feeling a fight or flight instinct at the mere glimpse of it whenever you looked up from your phone.

it had been almost two hours since you last suguru and you were striving to keep the streak going on longer.

"told you I'm going home satoru." a wary and very sobered up voice says when they open the door to the garage, "I drank enough water, I'm sober."

it's suguru.

there is no stagger in his step and his posture is refined as he walks to lean again the trunk of the car furthest from you and closest to his bike. you remain hidden due to the cars covering you from his line of sight as well as the sheer darkness of the corner.

he's wearing a shirt now, another black one, and he rakes his hands across face when he gives a defeated sigh. you hoped he wouldn't notice you.

this was your Friday the 13th movie for sure.

suguru pulls outs his phone from one of the spacious pockets of his fireman pants and he starts to type away immediately. there's a slight buzz from your phone seconds within the action.

suguru

are you still here?

I'm sobered up now.

he shoves his phone back in his pocket after. and you watch as he stays where he is, crossing his arms across his chest while he waits a good five minutes for you to respond, which you don't do. he gets his phone out again after and taps something randomly before he puts his phone up to his ear.

buzz-buzz-buzz-buzz

the strong buzzing of your phone on your thigh make a ricochet that gets's fine tuned ears pick up quickly.

"y/n?" he's shining his phone's flashlight on you, squinting his eyes just a little to try and make you out.

nervous, you mutter, "what."

suguru turns the light off and sighs, walking to your corner, his eyes already getting adjusted to the darkness.

"why didn't you answer me?"

"do you really not know the answer?"

"you're right." he sinks down in front of you, sitting down on the floor and brushing a stressed hand through his hair. his legs are stretched out and basically manspread even though he's not on a chair.

"satoru didn't text you to switch seats with him because he wanted to flirt with mika" he comes forth, both of his hands laying across his knees.

you're confused, "but–"

"it was a wild attempt of his to help me talk to you again." and he laughs, a burst of energy randomly gracing the intense air. suguru raises a hand to rub at the back of his neck while his chest and stomach ricochet and his teeth peek out from his mouth.

"truth is, I really like you." he's still smiling.

the declaration makes you stare blankly at him and a million goosebumps rise across your entire body.

"if you don't feel the same in that regard it's fine of course." he reassures, back to his normal calm self, "I just thought it would help explain my behavior."

"since when?" you peep

"our first class meeting," suguru seems a little bashful at the confession

"I have for a couple of weeks now too." you meekly profess

suguru seems genuinely surprised, his eyes widening, "you have?"

"why do you sound so surprised?" your brows knit.

"it felt like you didn't know I existed until last week." he grins followed by a small huff of humor

"oh...that," you trail off, embarrassed, "I thought pretending you didn't exist was the best way for you to not know I had a thing for you..."

"satoru is far smarter than me in that aspect." he says, "he insisted that you were doing that when I told him."

you giggle a little, "he read me like a book."

suguru hangs his head for a second and groans, still joyful, before he whips his head up and gazes at you, "I apologize for having never gathered the courage to approach you before. I have Satoru to thank for even getting me here with you in the first place."

"it's fine." you shrug, pulling at your own fingers, "we're here now aren't we?"

"we are." he agrees before leaning over. suguru grabs one of your hands and brings it to his lips, placing a soft kiss onto it while his eyes never leave your own.

"want to go back to the party?" you muster past your nerves, focus solely on the warmth of his hand still holding onto yours.

suguru shakes his head lightly, "I'm enjoying it being just the two of us right now. do you want to?"

"no, I like it here too."

theres a moment of silence, where both of you stare at the hands that the both of you have connected until a strong breeze passes and flutters the thin material of your babydoll up and makes you shiver strongly.

"let me." suguru says as he hastily gets up and gets his leather jacket that's hanging from his motorcycle, then brings it back to you, helping you tuck your arms into the sleeves and get comfortable in it.

he's above you when he does it and you can see the small glances he tries to avoid giving your body, especially at the sparkly pink thong peeking through the see through material of your costume. suguru is making sure his jacket is on your properly when you call out to him suddenly.

"suguru."

he doesn't get the chance to respond when he looks back up at you and you pull him in by the material of his shirt to kiss him.

he reciprocates within seconds, after the surprise wears off and places a hand on your thigh, the other next to your head and grabbing at the beanbag. his lips are soft and have no remnants of alcohol on them, a smooth flavor of his skin and flesh meeting your tastebuds when he dips his tongue into your mouth. it elicits a groan from him when you whimper at the contact.

he pushes as much as he can into your space without falling and you follow suit, trying to lift yourself as much as possible off the beanbag to meet him.

a particular whimper has suguru pulling away from you and pulling you up by the arm so he can maneuver you to sit on the trunk of the car next to you. when he plops you down onto it, he slots his torso between your thighs and pulls you for an even deeper kiss. his hands have a strong grip on your thighs as he keeps you against him and you can feel the distinctly large throbbing of something against your panties through his pants.

"are–mmmm–you hard?" you ask through kisses

suguru can't help the grind of his bulge against your core when he answers and keeps kissing you, giving small nips to your lips, "yes."

your eyes are closed into the kiss when your hands navigate to the waistband of his pants, about to reach for–

"not here." suguru mutters and keeps both of your wrists clamped under one of his large hands.

you pull yourself away from his lips and heave, a pout of sexual frustration illustrated on your eyes and lips. "okay."

he raises a hand to caress your cheek as he smiles fondly, "what?"

"nothing."you look away for a quick second, leaning in to kiss him again after.

suguru stops you before you do though, clamping one of his hands against your mouth while the other holds the back of your head.

he's smiling even wider this time, "now what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you touch me before I get to touch you?"

you slouch in his hold, too upset by the fact that you couldn't touch him or go back to kissing him to care about his words.

"you know, even satoru couldn't keep his eyes off of you in this little costume of yours." he looks down for a second so you could too, "god knows what toji was thinking. I saw the tent in his pants when you took my spit and booze like a good girl."

suguru sees the way you shift your hips for a smidge of relief at his words. "are you my good girl?" he leans his forehead across yours, hand still on your mouth. you try your best to let out a muffled 'mhm' and incessantly nod your head, eyes pleading and hands gripping onto his shirt.

"are you going to answer the phone when I text you next time?"

you give him the same answer again.

"god." he warily eyes you, gaze wandering towards the outline of your breasts and the rest that wasn't covered by your thong, "you're so beautiful."

the hand at the back of your neck trails down and moves some hair away from your shoulder, then ends up holding you by your lower back as suguru leans down and starts to mouth at your neck. he starts off small with his intentions, simply placing soft and subtle kisses, eliciting a ticklish response from you until his lips become searing and he goes in with the intent of leaving hickeys on you, it makes you squirm and suguru lets you, it's not like you can break away from his touch anyway. you use your legs to keep him caged in and closer to you eventually after the third 'pop' you heard coming from his mouth on your skin, it makes him audibly laugh for a second too.

you tug at the hand on your mouth, expecting for the task to be hard considering his build, but suguru lets his hand fall away easily and hold onto your thigh.

"what are you thinking pretty?" he asks mindlessly before going for the opposite side of your neck

"mmmm–about how good–mm–this feels."

"yeah?"

"mhm"

"tell me what you want to do. do you want me to drop you off at your place after this?" he blows on your most recent hickey and smirks when he sees you jump a little, "do you want me to get you food?"

"I want–ah!" suguru bites into your neck fairly hard, enough to make you moan and yelp at the same time, "I want to spend the rest of the night with you at my place. can we watch a scary movie?" the suggestion is simple and it isn't to hook up with him, although that's what you want more than ever now, but you don't want him to think you're that desperate so its what you settle for.

"couldn't imagine a better halloween than that." he smiles

you're under suguru, on your bed later that night, the movie you had been watching was long forgotten and the t.v. was turned off the second things started to get out of hand. it wasn't his fault no, suguru's a gentleman and when you said you just wanted to watch a movie, he was just going to watch the movie with you. you were the instigator. after you had been cuddled into his arms, near his neck, you decided to place a few loving kisses...that eventually turned into what this was with suguru getting up to take off and throw away his shirt while you hastily yanked off the long gloves of your costume.

he was needy, grinding his hips into yours the moment he came back down to kiss you.

"you have no idea how fucking bad I've been wanting you." he mutters, hissing when a particular rub pleases him the right way

it makes your back arch, "I think I do suguru."

"really?" he groans into your mouth, "you touch yourself to me like I do for you?"

"yeah." you sigh, clinging onto him even more, splaying your hand across the soft skin of his back.

"move your panties to the side."

when he feels your hand move down and follow his directions, suguru moves his down too and slides a finger across your soaked folds.

"fuck, this pussy is so wet for me. were you even trying to pay attention to the movie?"

"yes, I was." you complain, and whimper when he starts rubbing circles across your lower lips, gathering your slick for added stimulation after every rub.

he separates himself from kissing you to look down at his ministrations, mouth opening in a soundless moan at the sight.

"listen to this sloppy fucking pussy." he rubs faster and you start to jerk your hips up by natural defiance at the stimulation, but he holds you down "no, let me touch you baby." he says sternly

your breathing starts to pick up and you feel that familiar knot that only you can give yourself starting to build up in your stomach and suguru notices, looking up to smile at you.

"are you close angel?"

concentrated on the feeling, all you can do is nod your head and he speeds up his pace at it, garnering close to wanton moans from you and screech like whines.

"come on come on, cum for me pretty girl, cum cum cum cum–fuck, atta girl." suguru talks you through it, mouth opening in awe at the sight of your body going limp and your breathing slowing down, his cock even twitches at how cute it is that your legs kick a little when you cum too, he thinks he'll be able to keep them still when he gets make you cum on his cock.

you start to hiss at the overstimulation when he keeps rubbing your clit after your high, "'s too much suguru."

he doesn't stop, "you want to stop now then?"

the shake of your head makes his eyes light up and bite his lip with a grin, "then just let me keep going."

it takes all of your strength to lean up with one of your elbows and grab his wrist with the other, obvious strain written across your features when you huff, "I want you inside me."

like he knew that was what you wanted, suguru's grin grows wider, "are you sure?"

you nod your head in confirmation, followed by suguru saying, "so cute." before he gets up and pushes his pants and boxers down in one swift motion and climbs on top of you, manhandling your legs by pinning them to either side of your head into a mating press.

he lets his cock teasingly rub up and down your folds while he leans down to nip at your ears, "let's leave your little costume on yeah?"

you nod and make a face when his tip catches on your entrance

suguru lifts his hips at your confirmation and pushes his tip in, savoring the way you're beginning to invite him inside you.

" 's so big sugu." you whimper in shock at the larger than expected intrusion

"never taken a cock this big?" he pulls out and pushes in again a little deeper

"no." you rake your hands down his arms

suguru laughs, "good thing I'm here to provide then right? see, look at you creaming around me already."

the words make you look down at where you both meet and when he pulls out again, you can see the ring and slick on his dick, it makes you shiver.

"I'll–make–this–little-fucking–pussy-take–me." he punctuates each and every one of his words with a thrust that pushes himself deeper and deeper inside you until you can fully feel his tip grazing your cervix and every vein on his dick ridging against your walls from how girthy he is.

every sound that comes out of your mouth after is incoherent when suguru starts to punishingly pummel into you and god does he keep talking to you.

"you look so pretty taking this dick baby. god, you sound even cuter than I imagined. you like getting stretched out like this? fuck, take it take it take it. wish I could make you sit on it, you'd look so cute trying to ride me."

it's all so much, especially when every thrust is accompanied by a moan or groan of his or with a sentence.

"couldn't fucking wait to get home after the party last week too. wanted to rip off that costume and fuck you till you couldn't even scream. and when you wear those skirts with pantyhose to class?" suguru groans, "all–I–can–think–about–is–bending–you–over–and–stuffing–this–pussy–with–my–cum."

"suguru!" you squeal, "im–I'm gonna cum!"

suguru tightens his hold on your thighs at the admission and starts jackhammering into you, "cum around me baby. let me fuck you through it." it almost sounds like he's starting to beg, "just cum for me, cum for me, cum–"

a silent scream leaves your mouth and you trash in suguru's hold while he keeps his furious pace.

"so pretty, angel." his eyebrows knit as he watches you orgasm and feels you clamp down on him. it has his peak lurching across his body and his thrusts grow erratic as he starts spurting his cum into you.

he leans down to kiss you as his cock twitches inside of you, leaking his cum into you each time.

at the end of the kiss, the both of you are heaving against each other, smiles on both of your faces until you erupt into laughter and giggles.

suguru is still inside you and places a loving kiss on your forehead, swiping away your sweaty baby hair, "you're cute when you cum. you kick your legs a little, I like it."

the confession has you trying to shy away and suguru laughs again, caressing your head, "why are you shying away? you wore this costume for everyone to see just a couple hours ago."

"well this is you telling me you think the way I cum is cute, its quite different than guys looking at my thong." you shakily grab onto his shoulders

"I suppose so." suguru nuzzles into your neck, "do you have a bath?"

"yeah."

"let me start one for us then." he pulls out and both of you look down at your lonely entrance until his cum starts to leak out. suguru seems entranced and you can see his cheeks start to gain a red hue accompanied by the blood starting to rush to his cock too.

suguru looks back at you the moment you do too. you reach a hand out to him and he crawls back on top of you.

"we can do that later right?"

"right."

#geto suguru #geto x reader #geto fluff #jjk suguru #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto smut #geto smut #suguru smut #jjk smut #geto suguru smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

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waitimcomingtoo · 5 months

Text

A Film By Peter Parker

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: Peter gets back into making little videos once the two of you start hanging out

warning: extreme 2017 homecoming era nostalgia

Masterlist

Of course he went for Liz.

Liz was the ingénue. She was perfect in every possible way. Perfect grades, perfect face, and the perfect boy pining after her. You’d been crushing on Peter since the third grade but with Liz around, he never noticed you.

But Liz was gone now. She had moved to Oregon following her dad’s arrest and taken Peter’s feelings for her with her. Now that she was gone, you decided it was time to stop pining after Peter from afar and start pining from up close. And so, when you walked into the cafeteria that day, you didn’t sit at the end of the table like you usually did.

“Oh, hey.” Peter smiled in surprise when you sat down next to him. Smiling was good. Smiling meant he wasn’t creeped out by you sitting so close. You gulped before giving him best smile back.

“Hi.”

“What are you doing here?” Ned asked, making Peter give him a look. You immediately regretted your decision and wished you’d just stayed in your usual spot.

“What do you mean? She always sits with us.” Peter pointed out.

“No, she always sits down there. She’s never actually sat with us before.” Ned replied and gestured to the end of the lunch table.

“Yes, but I’m sitting here today because I needed Peters help with the chemistry homework.” You said and put your chemistry notebook on the table. You knew you couldn’t just randomly sit with them without a reason, so you came prepared.

“Oh, for Mr. Eddie’s class? It’s easy. I’ll show you my notes.” Peter’s offered with a smile. You returned the smile as he pulled out his own notebook. It was a win/win for you since you actually needed help with the homework and it would start a conversation with Peter. While he was explaining the problem to you, you never once looked down at the notebook. You were too focused on the curve of Peter’s suspiciously long eyelashes, the longest you’d ever seen on a boy. Ned noticed the way you were staring his his best friend and frowned a little.

“Does that make sense?” Peter’s asked when he was done explaining.

“Yeah, it does. Wow, thanks Peter. It sounds so easy the way you explain it. I wish this stuff came as naturally to me as it does for you. You’re so smart.” You said as if you had listened to a single word he had said.

“That’s nice of you to say but I’m really not that smart. I just like chemistry.” He replied as he blushed from the compliment.

“Oh, come on. You’re the smartest guy I know. You’re the only one that answers questions in that class. And you always get them right. When Mr. Eddie asks if anyone has any questions, I don’t raise my hand because I don’t even know what I’m confused about yet.”

“That’s I feel in English. I can barely make it through the first line in a poem and you’re already going back and forth with Ms. Teague about Pindaric odes or whatever they’re called.”

“You listen to when I talk in English?” You asked with a soft smile.

“Of course I do.” Peter shrugged. “I always find the reading boring until you raise your hand and talk about how you interpreted it. You make it interesting.”

“I liked that book we read when the kids ate the other kids.” Ned said and interrupted the moment. Your smile dropped as you and Peter looked at him with disgust.

“The one with the flies-“

“We know.” Peter cut him off.

“Anyways, thank you for helping me with the homework. I’ve been stuck on it all week.” You said to Peter.

“Ugh. That’s been me with my paper for Mrs. Teagues class. And it’s due tomorrow.” Peter groaned.

“Oh, the analysis essay? I could help you with that.” You offered.

“Really? You’d help me?” Peter smiled in surprise.

“Yeah. I already wrote mine. It would be no problem.”

Ned was watching this back and forth conversation for a while until it clicked it in head. He gasped and slapped the table, making you and Peter look at him.

“Oh my God.” Ned said. “That’s why you’re sitting here. You have a-“

“Can I talk to you for a second, Ned?” You quickly cut him off when you realized where that sentence was going. Before Ned could even answer, you grabbed his arm and pulled him outside the cafeteria to talk in private.

“You like Peter!” Ned whispered harshly. You clamped your hand over his mouth and pushed him up against the wall.

“You need to keep your mouth shut.” You hissed. “Yes, I like Peter, okay? I’ve had a crush on Peter since middle school. He never noticed me when Liz was around but now that she’s in Oregon, I might finally have my chance. I don’t want to scare him off so just keep your mouth shut and let me handle this.”

You took your hand off Ned’s mouth and he started to gasp for air.

“Oh, please. Your nose wasn’t covered. You could breathe just fine.” You said with a roll of your eyes. Ned stopped pretended and straightened up.

“So you actually like Peter? For his personality?”

“Yes. Is that so hard to believe?”

“Kinda, yeah.” Ned admitted.

“I like everything about him. And I’m gonna tell him that. Just please, don’t say anything before I do. I’ll tell him when I’m ready.”

“Are you going to cast a love spell on him using a lock of his hair?” Ned whispered to you.

“What? No. Why would you even ask me that?”

“Because you’re a witch.” Ned said like it was obvious.

“I’m not a witch.” You groaned. “I just accidentally cackled that one time but it was only because I had phlegm in my throat.”

“Then about that time on the bus?”

“We’ve been over this. It was just a coincidence that that biker fell off his bike after I gestured with my hand. I didn’t move him with my mind.”

“And that one time in physics?” Ned narrowed his eyes.

“I still don’t know how that guys shirt caught on fire.” You shrugged. “It’s a mystery to me.”

“It caught on fire after he made fun of you for being a witch.” Ned pointed out.

“Maybe he was just standing too close to the flame.” You shrugged.

“He was standing in the doorway. There was no flame.” Ned reminded you.

“The magic of science.” You shrugged again.

“But what about that time-“

“Don’t bring up the nosebleed.” You whined.

“I am gonna bring up the nosebleed.” Ned hissed. “In sixth grade, our Spanish teacher got a nosebleed right after he told you to stop staring out the window and made everyone laugh at you. How do you explain that?”

“You’ve made your point, okay? Now are you gonna tell Peter or not?”

“Look, I’m not gonna expose your gross secret feelings, as gross and secret as they may be.” Ned sighed. “But Peter is still my best friend so I have to look out for him. I don’t want any spells cast on him.”

“That’s fine. There will not be any spells.” You held your your hands in defense. Just then, Flash walked by and laughed when he saw the two of you talking.

“Woah. What is this, the friendless loser convention?” Flash snorted.

“Shut up.” You snapped. Flash immediately tripped over his feet and fell to the ground, making Ned look at you with wide eyes.

“Witch!” He whispered harshly as he pointed a finger at you.

“Shut up. Let’s go back inside.” You rolled your eyes and pulled Ned back into the cafeteria.

Later that day, you met up with Peter in the library to go over your assignments. You started with his English essay and finished that within an hour before moving on to your chemistry homework.

“You can plug the numbers into your formula now using the method I taught you. And then you just solve for x.” Peter explained as you worked out a problem together.

“Hm. You make it sound so simple.” You sighed and leaned on your hand. Peter saw the way you were staring at him in his peripheral vision and felt his face heat up.

“It’s, uh, it’s pretty easy once you get the hang of it. I never liked the way Mr. Eddie taught it. I figured this out myself and it’s worked much better for me.”

“Thanks for helping me. You’re a good teacher.” You said and put your hand on his arm. Peter laughed shyly at the contact and cleared his throat.

“Thanks. And so are you. That was the best essay I’ve ever produced. I honestly worry she won’t believe I wrote it.”

“Well if she says anything, I can vouch for you. You put in good work on this essay. You deserve the credit.” You assured him, making Peter blush all over again. It occurred to Peter that he never realized how pretty you were. You’d been classmates since 3rd grade so he always looked at you as just another girl in his class. Now that you had his full attention, he didn’t feel like looking away.

“Thanks. I appreciate you helping me write it. I know it can be frustrating to work with me because of my dyslexia.”

“It’s no problem. And it wasn’t frustrating at all.” You shrugged. Peter smiled at felt better about how long it took him to write the essay.

“Thanks.” He said. You had successfully gotten him to spend time with you one on one but now you needed to commence the next phase in your plan which was to hang out in a non school related setting.

“Would you ever want to hang out socially?” You blurted.

“Like, and not do homework?” He asked. You nodded your head and he smiled before nodding as well.

“Yeah. Sure. I’d love to.”

“Cool. Me too.” You smiled. You hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that but it worked nonetheless.

“Does this weekend work?” He asked you.

“Yeah. What do you want to do?”

Hard cut to that weekend. You were on the subway with Peter and he had his phone out to record himself.

“Firts social hang out with a girl. A film by Peter Parker.” He said in a low voice before flipping the camera to face you.

“Staring me.” You smiled and waved to the camera.

“Are you sure you’re cool with me filming this?” Peter asked as he flipped the camera back to himself.

“Yeah, of course. The other ones you showed me were so cute. But why did it seem like there were so many missing parts? You were always talking about something cool that I didn’t get to see.”

“Uhhh, no reason.” Peter said and looked to the side. He had skillfully edited out any incriminating superhero activity that you were not ready to see yet.

“Well I like it. I feel like I’m on Modern Family.” You said and posed for the camera.

“Which family member would you be?” Peter laughed and zoomed in on you. With his phone blocking his face, he could shamelessly admire your face on his screen.

“Duh. Lily.”

“I can so see that.” He chuckled. The subway lurched suddenly and you both grabbed onto the pole, coincidentally putting your hands in top of each others.

“Oh, sorry. Our hands touched.” You laughed shyly.

“Oh my God. So romantic.” Peter joked, making you blush and look into his camera.

“Stop it.” You laughed and covered his phone with your hand. He laughed as well and put his phone away.

After learn you had never been, Peter decided to the Lego Store. He’d been hyping it up to you all week over text and now that it was finally happening, he hoped it impressed you. You walked in together and Peter heard you gasp.

“Big Lego Aladdin.” You gasped and ran to stand under the giant magic carpet and Aladdin made of Legos.

“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard that string of words come out of someone’s mouth.” Peter laughed and went to stand under it with you. You looked over at him and were surprised to see he was already looking at you.

“This is even better than you described it. You need to show me everything.” You said and excitedly shook his arm.

“I can do that.” He blushed and nodded his head towards some of the sets.

Peter took out his phone to film you as you looked at everything in the store. The way you were looking around like a little kid brought a smile to Peter’s face. He zoomed in on you and caught himself staring at you fondly through the camera.

“Come on. I haven’t even showed you the coolest part yet.” Peter said and brought you over to the build your figure own station. He laughed when you gasped again and started to excitedly rummage through all the pieces. Peter didn’t bring his phone out again until you had built each other.

“Show me what you made.” He laughed from the other side of the phone.

“Looks! It’s a little Peter. He has a backpack and a beaker.” You said as you proudly showed the camera the little Peter figure you had made.

“This is Y/n. I can’t believe I found the shoes you always wear.” He said as he filmed the figure he had made of you.

“You notice my shoes?” You asked with a smile. Peter didn’t catch it because he was too busy fitting the hands of your Lego figures together.

“Look. They’re holding hands.” Peter gasped.

“Aw.” You laughed. “Us on the subway.”

“We should give them some privacy. They might not want us to hard launch their relationship.” Peter said and put his phone away.

“You’re so cute.” You laughed without thinking about it. Peter looked up at you with rosy cheeks and you gulped when you realized what you said.

“I mean-“

“Come on. I wanna take you somewhere else.” He cut you off before you could explain. He brought you to Delmar’s and ordered his usual for you to split. You sat together inside and you tried your best to remain calm. You always wondered what Peter got up to when he wasn’t at school and now you were in one of his favorite places and eating with him.

“Okay, this is Y/n’s first time eating at Delmars since he reopened. Let’s get her reaction.” Peter said as he filmed you unwrapping the sandwich.

“Wait, why is it so flat?” You laughed and held the sandwich up.

“Oh, sorry.” He chuckled. “I forgot to warn you that he always squishes it for me. But you’ll like it. Trust me. It’s much better when it’s squished down real flat.”

“Well I’m glad I now know you like your sandwiches to be squished. I would not have expected that about you.” You said and took a bite of your half before giving him a thumbs up.

“Yeah? You like it?” He asked hopefully.

“I do. Your squishy sandwich was surprisingly good.” You admitted.

“Well, I’m very pleased to hear that.” Peter smiled and phone away. “So to make it even, you have to show me one of your favorite places next time we hang out.”

“Oh.” You smiled coyly. “I didn’t realize there would be a next time.”

“There better be. I had a lot of fun with you today. How come we’ve never hung out before?”

“I don’t know. I always wanted to but you were busy running around with Ned or staring at…” You trailed off and chose not to mention Liz in case he was still hung up on her.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m just glad we’re friends now.” You said instead.

“Me too. I’ve never had a girl friend.”

“What was that?” You said and started choking on your saliva.

“All my friends in my life were guys. It’ll be nice to have a female influence in my life.”

“Oh. Girl friend.” You smiled tightly.

You hung out another hour before taking the subway back to your respective apartments. Peter walked to you the front doors of you building and you had an awkward moment where you didn’t know if you should hug or not.

“We uh, we should probably get an ending for your film.” You said with a timid smile.

“Oh, right. Thats a great idea.” Peter smiled and pulled out his phone. He pressed record and you waved to the camera with both hands.

��So, can you give our first time hanging out a rating?” He asked you.

“9/10.” You grinned and held up two thumbs.

“What? Why’d I only get a 9?” Peter scoffed and pretended to be offended.

“I had a 10/10 time but I have to deduct a point because we saw that guy cutting his hair on the subway and I was scared he was gonna throw the scissors at us.”

“Well I would’ve just protected you with my lightning fast reflexes.” Peter said simply. You smiled at him through the phone and he smiled back. He put the camera down and looked at you with a content smile on his face.

“Seriously, though. When’s the next time we’re hanging out?”

It ended up being just a few days later. And then again a few days after that.

“Peter’s first time!” You cheered as you filmed him during one of your hang outs.

“Trying boba.” He clarified. “I don’t understand this drink. Do I eat the balls?”

“Yes. Sip it slowly so they don’t all go down your throat.” You instructed. Peter took a big sip and immediately started choking.

“Peter! I said slowly!” You said as you slapped his back until he stopped choking. You quickly put the camera down to help him recover.

Your hangouts started getting more and more frequent and Peter soon considered you a best friend. Your weekends became each others and school days were often spent together in the library or at one of your apartments. You were quickly moving up the ranks in Peter’s life, just as you hoped. And the closer you got, the more Peter could not believe he had never noticed you before.

Little did you know, Peter often found himself watching the footage he had taken of you during your hang outs with a big smile on his face. He’d rewatch the videos he had taken and realize that they were slowly becoming less of a documentary and more of a highlight reel for you. He never imagined a girl as cool as you would for him so when he realized he was starting to fall for you, he quickly repressed his feelings. Little did he know, the feelings were mutual.

“Did you always make these little videos?” You asked Peter one day as he filmed you trying to balance on the curb of the sidewalk.

“I used too make them all the time but I hadn’t for awhile. I only started them again when we started hanging out.”

“Really? Why?” You wondered and stumbled off the curb.

“I don’t know. You remind me of the time before my life got crazy. It made me want to do these again.” He shrugged. You couldn’t help but smile at that information and turned around to look at him.

“So I could be the star?” You asked and posed for the camera.

“Exactly. You’re my muse.” He played along, making you laughed shyly. When he watched the video back later that night, he knew he had meant every word of that.

Peter sat in his bedroom one day and filmed himself wearing your glasses while you did homework at his desk. He looked over you every now and then just to admire the back of your head.

“Don’t break those.” You called without looking up. All you needed to hear was the sound of your glasses case opening to know what he was doing.

“I’m not even wearing your glasses.” He lied and admired himself in the camera.

“Yes you are.”

“No I’m not. But yes, I am.”

“Knew it.” You snorted.

“Hey, how come girls always smell so good?” Peter wondered. “Your hair hit me in the face when you turned too fast before it smelled like a baby in a damn meadow.”

“It’s just my womanly essence. Now can you stop looking at yourself long enough to help me with my chemistry homework?”

“It’ll be hard but I can try.” Peter dramatically sighed and set his phone down. You got yo from the desk and went over to the bed with a cheeky smile on your face.

“Incoming.” You announced and patted your elbow twice like a wrestler.

“No, don’t.” He pleaded. You ignored his pleas and jumped on top of him. He groaned and pushed you off, leaving you laying in the bed beside him.

“Ow. My ribs.”

“You’ll heal.” You rolled your eyes. “Now can you help me with number 7?”

“Oh, yeah. No problem. Can you check this email before I send it?” He asked and handed over his laptop. You handed him your worksheet before reading over his email draft.

“Oh, honey.” You grimaced just a few words into the email.

“Is it bad?”

“Good evening, Mrs. Howard. I hope this email finds you well. I’m so sorry for bothering you. I was just wondering if I could possibly have an extension on my midterm paper? No worries at all if an extension is not possible. I apologize for any inconvenience this email may have caused. Thank you for reading, Peter Parker.” You read out loud.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“After your name, you included the name of the class, the time you have it, and a description of yourself. She knows who you are!” You laughed and turned the laptop around to show him his mistakes.

“She may have forgotten.” He pointed out. “I can’t take any chances.”

“Peter, this email is way too submissive. You sound like such a bottom.”

“Well excuse me, genius.” He said sarcastically. “How would you write it?”

“Here.” You said and handed the laptop back after retyping his email.

“Oh, wow. That’s actually really good.” He said once he read your updated version.

“This is why we are such good friends. You have all the math and science knowledge in this little, beautiful head of yours-“

“Little?” He interrupted.

“You’re right. Sorry, I was just being nice. What I meant to say is that your head is huge.” You corrected. “Anyways, you have the math brain and I have the literary brain. It’s like you’re Einstein and I’m Victor Hugo.”

“Who the hell is that?” He laughed as he peaked at your mirror to see if his head was actually huge.

“The guy who wrote Les Mis.” You said like it was obvious.

“Never heard of it.”

“What? You’ve never seen Les Misérables?” You asked in a thick French accent.

“Huh?”

“We have to watch it. It’s so good.” You said and snatched his laptop back. You pulled up the movie and handed it back to him.

“Oh my God. It’s two hours and 38 minutes long? And a musical? Hell no.” Peter shook his head and pushed the laptop away.

“But it’s so good.” You urged. “We can just leave it on in the background while we work. It’s super light and easy to watch.”

“Really? What’s it about?”

“Oh, you know. Just war torn France.” You mumbled.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“But you’ll like it! There’s prostitution and con men and um…oh! And orphans! You can watch it and feel represented.” You said and shook his arm.

“I hate you.” He laughed but nearly gave in to your request just to see you happy.

“Fine.” You huffed. “I finished editing your midterm paper, by the way. You don’t actually have to send that email.”

“And here is your completed chemistry homework.” Peter smiled and handed your worksheet back.

“Aw.” You gushed. “Look at us. I love cheating with you.”

“So do I. We make a great pairing.” He chuckled as he looked over at you. You looked back at him and gulped. You hadn’t realized how close you were with your arms and legs pressed against each other as you sat together in your bed. Peter knew his sheets would smell like your perfume that night and smiled at the thought.

“Now that we’re all done with our work, you know what we should do?” He asked as he moved in closer.

“W-what should we do?” You stuttered now that he was right there.

“You know what I’ve been dying to do with you for a long, long time?” He asked.

“No. I mean, I don’t know. What?” You laughed nervously. Peter moved in even closer and right when you thought he was gonna kiss you, he reached over and grabbed his laptop back.

“I wanted to show you a real musical. Not this French miserable bull crap. Have you ever seen a little movie called Hair-“

“No. I’m not watching Hairspray with you again. You scream-sang every lyric last time and I couldn’t even hear it.” You cut him off and reached over home to take the laptop back. He pulled it away at the last second and you ended up on top of him. You looked into each others eyes and both froze in the positions you were in. Your faces were almost touching but neither of you tried to pull away. Your eyes were going back and forth between his lips and eyes and he was doing the same. Like magnets, you two started to lean towards each other but before your lips could connect, May opened the door.

“What did you guys want- oh! Sorry! I didn’t realize I would be interrupting something. My bad.” May smiled sheepishly and pretended to cover her eyes. Peter burned bright red as you quickly climbed off of him.

“May.” He said warningly.

“Sorry. But maybe lock the door next time. And use protection.”She whispered the last part before shutting the door.

“May!” He groaned and threw a pillow at the door. There was a long, awkward silence before you were even able to look at each other. When you finally did, you smiled awkwardly and kept your distance.

“That was so weird. What did she think we were doing?” You laughed nervously to break the silence.

“Psh. I know.” Peter scoffed. “She said she was interrupting but we weren’t even doing anything.”

“Yeah. What did she think? That we were gonna kiss or something?” You asked and laughed like it was the most ridiculous thing you could ever suggest.

“Us? Kissing? How silly. Imagine that.” Peter forced a laugh as well and looked to the side. The awkward silence returned and you struggled to look at each other.

“Do you think she made dinner?” Peter asked after a beat of silence.

“Let’s check.” You said and quickly got off the bed.

You didn’t discuss the almost kiss and went home shortly after. You couldn’t sleep that night because you couldn’t stop replaying the moment in your mind. No matter how much you wanted him to like you back, if Peter reciprocated your feelings, he would have kissed you.

Your pity party didn’t last long because on the subway the next day, you felt Peter put his earbud in your ear. You heard the Les Mis soundtrack playing in your ear and looked up in surprise. Peter was already filming you with a huge smile on his face.

“This guy 24601 should stop stealing bread and stick to singing. He has serious pipes.” Peter said.

“You listened to it?” You melted into a smile and held your hand over your heart.

“Yep. I stayed up all night watching lyric videos because I couldn’t understand what they were saying with their accents. It’s actually really good. I love Eponine. I just wish Marious wasn’t such an idiot. How does he not see that his best friend is clearly in love with him?” Peter asked with exasperation. You looked directly at the camera and hoped it picked up the irony before looking at Peter again.

“He’s not an idiot. He’s a romantic.” You sighed. “He doesn’t notice Eponine because he’s in love with Cosette. And course he is. She’s prettier and richer and has perfect hair. He doesn’t even see Eponine.”

“Good hair isn’t everything. Eponine is way better than Cosette.” Peter scoffed. “I’m team Eponine all the way.”

“Are you really?” You asked hopefully.

“Oh, for sure. I see why you like this stuff. These songs are awesome.” Peter said and put the other earbud in his ear. He then flipped the camera around to film the two of you sharing earbuds. As Heart Full Of Love played in your ears, you couldn’t help but longingly staring at Peter. The fact that he had stayed up late just to listen to something you suggested made you overcome with fondness for him. If he had done something like that, maybe he actually did feel the same.

“I forgot how good this album is. I haven’t listened in a while. I used to listen to it all the time back when you…” You stopped short when you realized you were about to say too much.

“When I what?” Peter wondered. You looked him in the eyes and decided that it was time to be honest. The song ended and a new, much louder one began to play in your ears.

“Back when you liked Liz. She was Cosette. I was Eponine. I was the one pining after a guy who never noticed me because he was in love with another girl. You were never mine to lose.” You admitted. Peter stared at you for a minute before pulling his earbud out.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear a word you just said. Master of the House is such a banger. What did you say?” He asked you.

“Never mind.” You smiled. “It wasn’t important.”

He smiled back before getting a text on his phone. You looked at his phone when you heard it buzz and realized he was still recording. In other words, he had just recorded you saying you liked him. Your eyes went wide but you only had a second to panic when you read the text he had gotten.

“Did Liz just text you?” You asked in a quiet voice. You felt like you were about to throw up. Years of crushing on a boy who liked another girl turned into months of pinning for your best friend and now turned into a rock in your stomach. Peter stopped recording the two of you to answer her text, which felt a little like a slap in the face.

“Oh, yeah. We’ve been talking lately.” He absentmindedly replied to you as he laughed at whatever she had written.

“You have?” You asked with a dry mouth.

“Yeah. She says Oregon is pretty cool. But she wants to come back and visit this summer to see everyone.” He told you.

“And see you?” You asked with a sad smile.

“I guess so.” He shrugged. “It would be nice to see her.”

“Yeah. Totally.” You said weakly. “So how long have you guys been talking?”

“I don’t know. A few weeks? She texted me a little while ago and we’ve been catching up.”

“That’s awesome.” You lied.

“I know. I didn’t think I’d ever hear from her again after she moved.”

“Neither did I.” You said through a forced smile. You needed to get off the subway and away from Peter before you started crying. So as soon as the subway doors opened, you bolted out.

“I gotta go. See you later.” You called to him before running through the subway station. You wiped tears as you went up the stairs and didn’t stop moving until you were in a bathroom stall at school. You gave yourself five minutes to be upset before drying your face and leaving the bathroom. It sucked, but it could have been worse. Now, Peter never had to know how you felt about it.

Peter was beyond confused by your exit on the subway but he wasn’t about to get any answers from you. You dodged his texts throughout the day and didn’t dare go into the lunchroom where you knew he and Ned would be.

“Y/n isn’t here yet?” Peter’s huffed as he sat down at your usual lunch table.

“Not yet. Actually, I haven’t seen your girlfriend all day.” Ned realized.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Peter blushed. “And I’m pretty sure she’s avoiding me. She’s been so weird ever since this morning. Everything was fine on the subway until we got to school.”

“Well did anything happen on the subway that would weird her out? Oh no. Did you graze her boob with your hand again?”

“No. That was one time. And it was her boobs fault, not mine.” Peter whispered harshly. “We were just listening to music together and I was filming her like normal. But she could not get away from me faster once the doors opened. It was so weird.”

“Did you say anything weird to her? Girls don’t like it when you say weird things to them.”

“I know that. I didn’t say anything weird.” Peter replied as he pulled out his phone. He watched the video he had taken on the subway with no sound to see where he had gone wrong. All he saw was you looking at him with heart eyes which made his face heat up. But still, no evidence of where he messed up.

“I knew it. We were having a normal conversation about Les Mis and then I got a text from and then she ran. It makes no sense.”

“What was the text? Was it May saying something weird?”

“No. And stop saying weird. It doesn’t sound like a real word anymore.” Peter ordered. “And the text was just from Liz.”

“Oh shit.” Ned said when he heard this.

“What?” Peter wondered.

“Oh, Peter.” Ned sighed. “Peter, Peter, Peter.”

“What?” He asked again, annoyed now.

“Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter, Peter.”

“Are you gonna tell me what happened or just keep saying my name?”

“I can’t tell you. I’m sworn to secrecy. And I don’t want Y/n to put a hex on my family.” Ned said and held up his hands.

“Y/n swore you to secrecy? About what?”

“Can’t say.” Ned shrugged and zipped his lips.

“Does she not like Liz? And doesn’t want me to know?”

“Dude. Dude, dude, dude, dude. You are so close but so far.”

“So she does like Liz? Oh my God. Does she a crush on Liz? And she’s jealous that Liz texted me and not her?” Peter whispered with wide eyes.

“You’re getting colder.” Ned waved his hand. “I don’t even know how you got there.”

“That was all my guesses. Just tell me.” Peter whined.

“Hell no. I don’t want Y/n to curse my crops and make not grow for all of eternity.”

“You don’t have crops.” Peter pointed out.

“I could develop some.” Ned snapped.

“I just don’t understand what she would tell you something but not tell me. We’re best friends. She usually tells me everything.” Peter said right as his thumb accidentally hit the volume button on the video. Your confession to Peter on the subway was heard loud and clear by the two boys. Both of their jaws dropped as the video ended with you asked if Liz had just texted Peter.

“Well I wouldn’t have beaten around the bush like that if I knew you had video evidence of her saying she liked you right in your hands.” Ned sighed dramatically.

“I need to find her.” Peter said and ran out of the lunchroom. He looked around the school until he found you under the bleachers in the gym. You were sitting with your back against the wall and your knees drawn to your chest with your earbuds in your ears. When you saw Peter coming up to you, you quickly pulled them out.

“Hey.” He said and waved cautiously.

“Hey.” You smiled sadly as he sat beside you. You sat in silence for a minute as neither of you knew what to say.

“What’s going on with you? I haven’t seen you all day.” He started off. You looked at your hands to avoid making eye contact and sighed.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’ve been talking to Liz?” You asked quietly.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t hiding it. I just didn’t think it would interest you.”

“Well you have no idea how interesting I found it.” You laughed dryly. “What do you guys talk about anyway?”

“Well, she originally texted me to ask me to confirm I had an internship at Stark Industries because her boyfriend didn’t believe her when she told him she knew a guy who worked there. Apparently he’s been trying to get an internship there for years and he wanted to know how I landed mine. Then we just started catching up. I only talk to her here and there, though. And it’s only ever about school or work.”

“Oh. I thought you guys were talking talking.” You couldn’t help but smile a little when you heard the word “boyfriend.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Just regular talking. When you saw her text on my phone, she was telling me about her cat getting spaded. And I didn’t know what that meant so she had to tell me. I should’ve just googled it.”

You laughed softly at that and he did too. The tension was let out of the conversation and you could finally breathe again. When you stopped laughing, you finally looked in his eyes.

“Do you still have feelings for her?” You asked quietly.

“For her? No.” He laughed. “Those are long gone. I have feelings for someone else now.”

“Oh God. Don’t even tell me. I don’t want to know.” You groaned and buried your face in your hands. Peter looked at you for a minute until an idea came to him.

“Actually, uh, I came looking for you because I was just making another video. Wanna be in it?” Peter asked and took out his phone. You looked at him like he was crazy and could not believe he had just asked that during that moment.

“I’m not really in the mood right now, P.”

“Come on. I can’t make it without my muse.” He said and nudged you slightly. You couldn’t help but to smile at that and reluctantly nodded. He propped up his phone against the bleachers and pressed record.

“In a world where two best friends have no idea how to communicate despite spending way too much time together.” Peter said in a fake deep, gravely voice.

“Okay. Shade. That’s fine.”

“What will it take for them to admit they have feelings for each other?” He kept the voice as he looked at you.

“Wait, what?” You asked and looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. Peter smiled softly at you and shrugged a little.

“What’s it gonna take?” He asked again in his normal voice.

“I don’t understand.” You laughed nervously.

“I watched the video from before. From the subway. I heard what you said.” He admitted.

“Oh shit. You watched it?” You grimaced.

“Uh huh. So if you’re Eponine, I guess that makes me the idiot who didn’t realize his best friend was in love with him?”

“I guess so.” You said with a tight smile and still didn’t understand why he wanted to film this incredibly awkward conversation.

“You know, if I didn’t have a video of it, I never would have believed that you liked me.” Peter told you.

“You wouldn’t? Why not?”

“Because it doesn’t seem possible that the coolest girl I’ve ever met liked me.” He replied.

“You think I’m cool?” You asked skeptically.

“I think you’re the coolest. And you know, I watch the videos I take of you all the time. And half of them are just clips of you existing. So I do notice you. It just took me a second to catch up.” He told you. A smile tugged at your lips as you stared into his big brown eyes.

“You’re my best friend.” You told him. “I’m sorry I want more.”

“I’m not sorry.” He shrugged.

“You’re not?”

“I’m just sorry it took me so long to wake up and find that what I’ve been looking for has been here the whole time.” He said as he hooked his pinky under your chin and brought your face close to his.

“Wait, why does that sound so familiar?” You wondered.

“Don’t think about it too hard.” Peter whispered right before your lips touched. You kissed for the first time under the bleachers but it could have been in a palace for all you knew. The world disappeared around you as Peter slipped a hand behind your head to deepen the kiss. When you pulled away, you rested your foreheads together and laughed nervously together. It was a good nervous, a happy feeling of anticipation.

“Was that Taylor Swift?” You realized when you finally placed where you knew that like from.

“Shh. No.” He shook his head. “But yes, it was. You’re not the only one with good music taste.”

Tag List 🏷️

@thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling

@tom-hollands-wifey

@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings

@imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101

@peterparkoure

@justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr

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#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #Peter Parker mutual pining #peter parker x best friend!reader #spiderman homecoming #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x y/n #peter parker x y/n

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hyunniesgirl · 5 months

Text

I wanna be yours

Pairing: Bangchan x fem!reader

Summary: it was all a game to him, until all he could think about was you. He wanted to have all of you. Ruin all of you. Love all of you.

Or, the one where Chan is a cocky asshole who's going out with you just for fun and ends up falling in love.

Slightly inspired in the movie 10 things I hate about you.

Genres: angst, smut, fluff

Words count: 10,991

Masterlist

This content is +18 ONLY, minors do NOT interact!

Warnings: Corruption kink(kinda), dry humping, fingering, blowjob, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, pet names(princess, baby), Chan is cocky as fuck(and I'm here for it, stan cocky Bangchan), reader gets kinda insecure close to the end(let me know if I missed something)

A/N: should I be answering my requests or updating my series? Yes, did I spend too much time in a super long self indulgent oneshot? I did. It was supposed to be just smut with corruption kink 😭 turns out I can't write the porn without the plot.

It all started as a game for him. He just didn't guess how much you would mess with his head.

Bang Chan doesn't care much about college, with a promising career in music, he's just attending classes so his parents won't nag him too much.

That means he's bored all the time.

So when Jeongin, his youngest friend, begged him to win his girlfriend's sister over and date her for a bit, he almost accepted right away, yearning for some fun. But he didn't, not before knowing who you were.

That's how he ended up here, trying to find you in the middle of communication class. He didn't need to look too much, from Jeongin’s description, he could find you in the blink of an eye.

“A pretty girl, probably wearing black or some neutral color and she'll probably be in a corner. She's very shy, when you speak to her don't be too straightforward, you may scare her”

The way Jeongin described you didn't show any ill intent and he was always a good guy, that's why Chan considered accepting his offer in the first place. He must have his reasons for almost kneeling in front of his friend, asking for him to date you.

Chan sits behind you, observing every movement you make. You're indeed pretty and you really are shy. He notices how you want to raise your hand every time the professor asks a question, but you always hesitate and someone speaks over you. Every time you try to speak, some rude person cuts you and instead of getting mad, your face turns red and you shrink in your seat, trying to make yourself even more invisible.

There's something about you, Chan can't tell what it is, but it's something amusing about how you behave. Someone like you could have every guy in this university wrapped around your little finger and every girl wanting to be your friend.

As soon as the class ends, Chan sends a text to Jeongin, telling him he will do it. He doesn't waste time, waiting for everyone to get out of the classroom while you're still collecting your things.

“Hey”, he says out of nowhere, making you jump and look at him with huge doe eyes. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you”.

He kinda did want that, though, curious to see how you would react, he thought maybe you would raise your voice and curse him, but you reacted as calmly as possible.

“It's okay”, you mumble.

You keep organizing your things, trying to ignore his presence.

“So, I wanted to ask if you can let me borrow your notes”, he asks, making puppy eyes.

You turn back to him and Chan can almost see the gears turning inside your head.

“Why does he want my notes if he just attended the same class?” It's written all over your face.

“I pulled an all nighter studying for another class and kind of dozed off earlier”, he lies, smiling sheepishly while scratching the back of his neck.

You stare at him for a bit, pondering if you should say yes, actually, let's be real: can you even say no?

This is Bang Chan, handsome and popular, everyone knows him and the other two guys from 3racha. The last you heard, he didn't care much about classes since he's already progressing in his music career so you still don't understand why he wants to borrow your notes.

“Yeah, okay”, you nod, deciding to agree so this conversation can be over soon. You pull your notebook out of your bag and hand it to him. “Just make sure to give it back by next class”

“Sure, thanks”, he gives you a big bright smile that makes you gulp while staring at him, just a few minutes in his presence and you already know something very important: this man is dangerous.

You look around awkwardly, not knowing what Chan wants more. He's just standing there, staring at you.

“I'll get going then”, you sigh, feeling exhausted by this whole interaction.

You turn around, walking to the door, leaving Chan there, dumbstruck. Jeongin was right, you have no social skills, but you're much more entertaining than he made you out to be.

—

You're having lunch with Yuna, your sister, and Jeongin, her boyfriend, in the cafeteria. You like spending time with them, they are probably the only people you feel comfortable around in this university.

You met Jeongin three months ago. Your sister came home giggling like a child on Christmas, sat on your bed and told you she got a boyfriend.

You ran to your door, closing it after checking that your parents weren't around. There's only one rule in the house: your younger sister must not date before you do.

Your parents are not conservative or anything like that, they just had you two later than other parents, so they are very overprotective. You don't know exactly the reason why they set this rule, maybe it's because they are sure you're never going to date.

Yuna is your best friend, she was a sickly child so all those interactions and fights that normal sisters have, you didn't. You spent most of her childhood and a huge part of yours by her side in the hospital. Fortunately, she was able to go back to a normal life by the time she was becoming a teenager, she was always a social butterfly even in the hospital everyone loved her.

You always thought it was unfair that she had to wait to have a boyfriend simply because you are not interesting enough or can't even hold a conversation properly without stuttering, but there was nothing you could do about it. You even tried arguing with your parents about it but it always ended with them telling you to forget about it.

You see Jeongin waving to someone, something is off, they never invite anyone to eat with them. A tray is settled by your side and you look at the person who sits in the seat next to yours: Bang Chan.

“Hello again”, he smiles at you, a handsome smile with dimples showing and everything. He greets the others after.

You look at Yuna and Jeongin, she is frowning just like you and her boyfriend is eating like this is an ordinary situation in your daily lunch.

“Hi”, you sister answers, “I don't think we met before”

“Oh, yeah, I'm Bang Chan!” He stretches his hand so she can shake it. “Jeongin is an old friend and I have communication class with y/n”

“Ah”, she nods, looking at her boyfriend. You stay in silence, playing with your food, waiting for Jeongin to send Bang Chan away.

“Babe, I forgot I have a project due tonight”, Jeongin says, slapping the palm of his hand on his forehead. He stands up, “can you help me? Chan will keep y/n company.”

No. You don't want him to keep you company. Your eyes widen and you stare at your sister, trying to send her a mental signal so she won't let you alone with him.

What you don't see, it's that she has already caught up on the way Bang Chan is looking at you and she might think she understands what's happening.

“Okay, yeah. Take care of her”, your sister says, smiling apologetically to you while she gets up and follows Jeongin out of your sight.

You should just throw your food away and go to the library, maybe you can eat a sandwich.

“Would you like to go on a date with me?” You hear Bang Chan's voice before you can put your plan into practice, turning around to look at him with the most terrified face he ever saw on someone. “Ouch, does the idea scare you so much?” He jokes.

“Why would you want to go on a date with me? We just met yesterday”, you point out, holding yourself back so you won't just stand up and run away.

“I find you interesting, it's just a date so we can get to know each other better”, he shrugs. He's so nonchalant about it, while you're freaking out inside.

“I don't think that's a good idea, I'm not good at keeping conversations, you'll get bored”, you say frantically. You just didn't expect him to laugh.

“I can do all the talking, I love to talk"

Chan knows this move is risky and there's a high probability you won't accept, but he just felt like asking you at that moment.

“Are you sure you won't get bored?” You ask.

His eyes widen and he nods, are you really considering it?

You are, obviously. You bet no one could ever guess, but Bang Chan is your ideal type, actually he is probably everyone's ideal type.

He has the kindest smile you have ever seen and the way his eyes turn into crescents when he's smiling makes your legs weak. He met you yesterday, but you know him since 3racha performed in the university’s festival last year. Since the first time you two crossed paths, everything about him, appearance wise, seemed appealing: his dark eyes, his smile, his dark curls, his broad shoulders and his muscular body. That's why you freaked out so much when he spoke to you yesterday, you never thought he would give you the time of day. So you would be dumb to reject his offer.

“Okay”, you nod, handing your phone to him. “You can put your number there, I'll text you so you can save my contact”, you say and he stares at the device for a few moments before picking it up and typing his number.

This was easier than he thought.

—

“Do you have pepper spray with you?” Your mother asks for the 30th time in the last hour.

“Yes, mom. I'm going on a date with another student, he's not a criminal”, you tell her and your father tsks.

“There are alot of students that commit crimes”, he says.

“I know”, you sigh, “don't worry, I have pepper spray, emergency numbers and I'll turn on my localization”

Your sister is watching the scene unfolding in front of her, while she chuckles.

“You shouldn't laugh, if I start dating you will go through the same thing when it's your time”, you whisper at her and she sighs.

“You're not going to this date just so I can officially date Jeongin, right?”

You grin.

“You think too highly of me, I'm not that selfless”, you hear the sound of a horn in front of your house, “I'm going on this date because he's hot”

Chan thought you were pretty in your everyday clothes but after seeing you ready for your date he just couldn't take his eyes off you. You're wearing a little sundress with thin straps holding your much too generous and low cleavage. Your hair is down and your lips are red with lipstick.

He's waiting for you outside of the car so he can open the door for you, but when you stop in front of him, he just doesn't move.

You frown, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Are you okay?” You ask and he snaps out of his daze.

“Yeah, you're just too pretty”, he tells you honestly, “I just couldn't believe I'm so lucky”

You feel your skin hotter, you're sure your whole face must be red like a tomato.

The restaurant you are going to have dinner at is a bit further than you thought, it takes at least one hour by car to get there.

“Were all the places close to the city closed?” You try making a joke and he smiles.

“Considering your personality, I thought you would like this place better”, he tells you while you go in. A person greets you two, leading you inside. There's no open space, the building is full of rooms and you're guided to one of those. There's a glass wall in the back of the room with a view to a lake and a waterfall, there's colorful lights everywhere, making it even more beautiful.

“So, when I was searching for a nice place to go on a date, I came across this one.” Chan starts speaking and you notice there's a small stove on top of the table. “There's no attendants, so we will cook our own food and only call them if we want more servings”, he explains, pulling the chair so you can sit.

“Oh”, you feel a weird feeling on your stomach, are these the butterflies your sister told you about? You never knew something like this existed and the fact that he was attentive enough to take your shyness into consideration while choosing the place of your date makes you melt inside. “Thank you”, you tell him after sitting.

You don't shut up the whole night. This is the first time you feel so comfortable with someone other than your family.

“So, you want to work with entertainment?” He asks surprised.

“Yes, I really like the whole thing about managing an artist, it sound exciting”, you smile happily, “who knows, maybe one day I can manage 3racha”

“You have heard 3racha?” Chan asks, surprised.

“I really like your music”, you tell him, “besides, everyone knows about you guys”

“Yeah, but I didn't know you knew about us”, he smiles charmingly, leaning on the table while clasping his hands. “So does that win me some points? Maybe a kiss?”

You already are red because of the wine, now you feel your whole face hot. You're already feeling a bit out of it, not drunk enough to make a bad decision but definitely drunk enough to lose a bit of your shyness.

“I don't know how to kiss”, you say simply, no further explanation.

Chan almost chokes on the air he just breathed, he didn't think you would be so blunt about it. Curiously, he finds your innocent face while saying that too enticing.

“I can help you with that”, he says, tilting his head and winking.

“Would you really?” You ask and he nods. “Like now?”

Chan didn't expect that to happen so soon, especially with someone as shy as you. But he won't refuse your offer.

“Are you done?” He asks, eagerly, standing up and you nod. Chan stretches his hand to you, waiting for you to hold it.

He takes you to his car, helping you get in and fastening your seatbelt. He's not in his right mind, not at all, he didn't even drink so why is he so excited? He doesn't think he ever felt this way about a kiss. He drives for a while, looking for the drive in movie theater he had read about while looking for the restaurant.

After fifteen minutes he parks his car behind others, there are a lot of people there to watch the movie.

You have your hands on your lap, fidgeting with your fingers nervously. It's so endearing how innocent you are.

“Would you like to take a seat?” He asks and you frown, looking around and then looking at him. You are already seated.

He tilts his head, chuckling and patting his lap. You nod so fast, it's embarrassing. He smiles, seeing you climb on top of him, legs are over the cup holder, you're using him as a literal seat.

“You never kissed anyone?” He asks, while you adjust yourself on top of him, his breath hitting your neck, making goosebumps rise all over your body. You shake your head, feeling a bit insecure, what if you are no good?

Chan bites on his lower lip, shifting a bit so you won't feel his hardening cock under you, you're just too cute, too sexy.

“Okay, I'll go slowly, we can stop anytime you want”, he tells you, brushing his hand on your arm all the way to your neck, making you close your eyes to his touch. He pulls your face closer, touching your lips with his, it's warm and soft, it feels like heaven.

He brings his other hand to your cheek, caressing. He pulls back a bit, just enough so he can speak.

“Open your mouth for me, baby”, he tells you and you obey instantly, feeling his lips back on yours. His tongue brushes against yours and you whine, lifting your hands to grab on his shoulders to steady yourself, causing your ass to rub on his cock. Chan groans, making you flinch, did you do something wrong?

He notices your hesitancy, so he slides his hand to your waist, squeezing you in reassurance.

“Are you sure you have never done this?” He asks playfully and you smile, shyly.

“Can- Can we do it again?” You whisper, making him chuckle. Dear god, would he be able to stop this with just kisses?

“Did you like kissing me, princess?” He teases, seeing you blush. Chan wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you even closer. He lands a kiss on your exposed collarbone, tracing kisses up to your neck.

“You smell so good”, he tells you before leaving a kiss on your jaw, then on your chin and finally a peck on your lips.

“Must taste even better”, he thinks, smiling to himself.

Your phone starts ringing, taking you two out of that hazy atmosphere. You feel embarrassed now, not believing you actually acted that way. Going back to your seat, you pick up the call, it's Yuna.

“Mom and dad are freaking out because you stopped moving for too long”, she whispers. Shit, you forgot your localization was turned.

“Tell them you called Chan and I'm alright, my phone just died”, you instruct her.

“Yeah, got it, just hurry”

Chan probably heard the conversation, but you still feel upset that he started the car right away and drove fast back to your home.

When you arrive in front of your house, you're not sure if you should kiss him goodnight or just wave, both are awkward options for you, so you go with the one you want the most.

You grab his arm and pull him closer to you, kissing him on the lips. Chan is quite surprised with your bold action, but he won't complain, he can't get enough of your lips.

“I will text you when I get home”, he says after pulling away and you nod.

You get out of the car and walk to your door, stealing glances at Chan. He's giggling at your antics, watching until you are safe inside your house.

He should be thankful to Jeongin, he's finally having a good time.

—

Chan is taking his mission seriously, he's texting you everyday and even stopped seeing all his fuck buddies. This is the closest he ever got to a relationship, but you're not official yet.

Especially not when you're avoiding him like the plague when it comes to meeting face to face. You answer his texts normally but he has to literally hunt you down so he can find you in this damn university and if you see him before he sees you, it's game over, you'll hide immediately and he has to begin his search all over again.

This time, though, he caught you off guard. You are at the library, seated alone, trying to focus on the book you have in your hands.

He smiles to himself, knowing you can't escape anymore. Chan leans over, caging your body with his two hands around you, gripping the table.

“I missed you, baby”, he whispers and you shiver, feeling butterflies on your stomach.

“H-hi”, you say, closing your book and taking a deep breath.

You will not try and pretend you didn't hide from him for almost a week. But that's not your fault, it's your brain's.

After Chan left you home, you ran to your room, still feeling all tingly and hot from kissing him. Since Yuna didn't come to your room you guessed she was already asleep, so you took your makeup off, took a long bath and snuggled in your nice sheets.

The thing is: you had the most lewd, filthy, awfully good dream that night. You could never even say the things Chan did to you in that dream out loud.

You woke up sweaty, heavy breathing and panties soaked, this never happened to you before.

You just couldn't look at his face after that, you felt dirty and guilty with having those thoughts about such a nice guy.

“Am I wrong or were you avoiding me?” He asks, not moving from behind you.

“No- I wasn't”, you turn around to look at him, bumping into his face too close from yours. He glances at your lips, biting his lower one and chuckles. “I was just, hm, kinda embarrassed”, you tell him, aware that he's going to know right away if you try lying.

“Embarrassed about what?” He asks, tilting his head.

“I don't know”, you look away, trying not to give in and tell him about your dream.

“I think you should come to my place so we can talk about it”, he says and you choke on your own spit, struggling to function correctly. Did he just ask you to go to his house? Just you? And him? Just the two of you?

The apartment is not far from the campus, it's a maximum twenty minutes walk. The building is nice and modern, it absolutely matches what you had imagined Chan’s place would look like.

His apartment is huge, it's not possible that he lives there alone.

“I have three roommates, Jisung and Changbin you already know and Hyunjin, he's an arts major”

“Hwang Hyunjin? I know him, he's friends with my sister”, Chan nods, he forgot your sister dates Jeongin, she probably knows his entire group of friends.

“Do you want to drink something?” He asks, looking at you while you walk around the living room, looking at every corner but not at him.

“Water is fine”, you say, looking at some pictures he has with his friends. He always has that breathtaking smile that makes all your insides turn around.

“What about watching a movie?” He asks out of nowhere, sitting on the sofa. He looks at you, an arm resting on the back of the sofa.

“Sure”, you walk to him, sitting on the far corner. Chan has to bite back a laugh so you won't feel embarrassed, do you really think it's so easy for you to get away from him?

He turns on the movie, adjusting himself on his seat. You're really trying to pay attention to what's going on on the screen, but you just can't. Not when Chan's scent is all over the place, making you remember about your dirty dream.

He knows you're restless, he can see you fidgeting by his peripheral vision.

“Are you uncomfortable?” He asks, turning his head towards you, with a smirk plastered on his lips. “Maybe you can sit here again, I'm sure you are going to like it better”, he pats on his lap.

You feel your face red.

“Stop teasing”, you mumble, pouting, “that's not nice”

He chuckles. If you're not coming to him, he has no problem going to you, so Chan slides his body closer, making you stare at him with a frown.

He raises his hand to your face, cupping it and caressing your cheek.

“Tell me you don't want this, princess, I'll stop”, he says. But you want this more than anything in the world, how could you not?

You lean a bit, trying to close the gap between your mouths. Oh, how much Chan missed your soft lips, he felt almost like going through a withdrawal staying so long without kissing you.

You learn fast, your mouth opens right away after your lips touch. In a bold move, your tongue is the one to look for his first, making him groan. He puts his right hand on your thigh, squeezing it harder than he predicted, but he didn't predict the bite you would give on his lip at that exact moment.

Chan grabs your hip, pulling you up to his lap, this time with a leg on each side of him. You're looking at him in that innocent way when all he has on his mind are the dirtiest thoughts. He caresses your thigh, sliding his hand to grab your ass and pulling you closer to him.

“Will you tell me now, why you were embarrassed? You looked pretty fine when I left you home after our date”, he asks and you blush instantly, oh, you forgot about the reason you are here. You can't tell him about your dream, you'll die of embarrassment if you do.

“It was- nothing”, you lie, avoiding his eyes. Chan noticed this already, you always look anywhere but him when you are lying to him.

Maybe he'll have to make you tell the truth.

“Really?” He says, skeptical. “Then you were just being mean? Playing with my feelings after just one date?” He's teasing, he knows you'll give in eventually, it's just a question of time.

“No, I wasn't”, you argue, with a frown on your face, your lips shut tight in a pout.

“Baby”, he calls, your legs would definitely give out if he called you like that while you were standing. “I don't like liars”

Chan slides his hands up to your ass, grabbing a handful and pulling you closer. You can already feel something hard beneath you, making you shift and adjust on his lap, involuntarily seeking some friction. Your core is aching, just by staying so close to him.

“I'm not lying, that's mean”, you try changing the subject and he chuckles.

Chan comes closer, lips brushing against yours, his breathing hitting on your mouth, everything just making the wet spot on your panties grow bigger and bigger. He kisses you, a nice and soft kiss with his tongue caressing yours gently.

Chan notices that you're moving your hips slightly, trying to feel his cock. He smiles during the kiss, pulling away while putting his hands on your hips, guiding your movements to be harder.

“Hm”, you whine, feeling his hard on giving you the friction you're looking for. His hand cups your cheek, pulling you closer into a kiss again.

You never felt this way, like ever. You did masturbate but it's different to do it with another person. It's just so good to feel Chan's touch on your skin, his breathing, his muscular arms holding you. You feel your orgasm coming, you can't believe you're going to cum by just rubbing yourself on this man.

Chan knows you're almost there, that's when he grabs your hips steadying you, not letting you move further. He earns a whine from you, an angry look on your face.

“I will only let you keep going if you tell me why you were embarrassed and avoided me”, he says cockyly and you shake your head, trying to move again but his grip on your hips is too strong.

“I don't wanna”, you tell him.

“Then, I guess you won't be cumming today”, he shrugs. “At least, not with me”, he smirks to your face becoming even redder.

“You're such a meanie”, you whine, pouting, still trying to move again but he just won't let you.

“Are you going to tell me what I want to know?” He tilts his head.

You ponder for a moment, what should you do? It's not going to end here, if you don't tell him right now, you're sure he won't let it go.

“I- I had a dream”, you start, trying to gather some courage.

“Uhm”, he nods, “what about it?” He asks curiously, feeling strangely aroused by the way you're looking around, lips pulled into a line and the way you're speaking leads him to believe you're talking about a wet dream.

“Li- like one of those dreams”, so he was right, did you have a wet dream about him? That's interesting.

“Hm, you'll have to be more specific, princess”, he pushes, “I don't think I know what you're talking about”

“I mean”, you groan, dropping your head to his shoulder so you won't feel his eyes on you. “A sex dream… with you”, you whisper.

The grin on Chan's face after you finish saying that, is priceless. He can feel his cock twitching, he's eager to know more.

“Tell me more about it”, he presses, “I really wanna know what happened in that dream that left you so embarrassed”

“Please, Chan. Don't make me say it”, you beg, but he's not having it. He likes seeing you blushing and struggling to talk dirty, it's endearing.

“No can do”, he grabs your shoulder to pull you away so he can look at your face. “I promise I'll give a nice reward if you tell me”

You nod. If he won't drop it, then you have to try and earn something over your embarrassing situation.

“I- like- you ate me out”, you start and he smiles, he would indeed love to do that. “And I s-sucked you off, it was nice”, you stumble over your words in each sentence. Chan can only feel even more turned on, your lips are so soft, he can't even picture what it would feel like to have them wrapped around him.

“Keep going, princess. You're doing great”, he reassures you. Chan loosens the grip on your hips, guiding your movements back and forth once again.

“And you said all these dirty things to me, I can't say it out loud, please”, he smirks, pulling you even closer and pressing your covered core against his cock.

“Did I tell you how good it felt to have your pretty little mouth sucking on my cock?” He asks playfully and you nod, feeling the warmth creeping in your face again while that tingly sensation grows bigger in your lower stomach.

“Did we fuck?” He asks, feeling himself getting closer to cum too.

“Yeah”, you nod frantically with your eyes closed shut. “You fucked me on all fours and in this same position too”, you tell him.

“Oh? Did you ride me? Did you like it?”

“I did”, you struggle to make your voice come out, feeling too light headed to even speak properly.

“There's something more, right, baby?” He feels his cock throbbing, he's almost at his limit.

“Yes, you- you choked me a bit, I liked that”, and that sentence was enough to make Chan reach his orgasm, being followed by you right after.

He can't believe he really did cum in his pants, like a fucking teenager. It's your fault actually, how can someone make him cum like this and still look angelic and innocent? Like you never told him he choked you and you liked it, even though it was a dream.

Chan kisses you eagerly this time, his chest is feeling hot and he feels a weird sensation on his stomach.

“You shouldn't feel embarrassed about this kind of thing”, he tells you and you nod, because it's true, “if it makes you feel better, I'm sure I had worse thoughts about you”, he smiles, seeing you blush.

“Like what?” You ask, curiously.

“Oh, I won't tell you”, he shakes his head, “you would never look at me again if you knew all the dirty things I wanna do to you”

—

Another week went by and now you were not avoiding Chan anymore. He follows you around pretty much all day at school, stealing kisses and pulling you to empty classrooms to have make out sessions.

It's time for him to meet your parents, it's not something he ever did, he never dated anyone after all. It's a Wednesday night, he brought flowers and a bottle of wine. So five minutes before the set time, he's knocking at your door.

Your sister opens up, greeting him but you're nowhere to be found until he hears your voice from upstairs.

“Is he already here?” You sound panicked and your sister giggles.

“Yes! Hurry up”, she says and Chan hears something falling and making a weird noise. It was not loud enough to be a person so he's not worried you fell, but he finds it funny to think about you nervously stumbling around.

When you show up at the top of the stairs, he has to blink a few times to actually believe you're real. You look so beautiful, showing your nice legs in a short skirt and your shoulders in a tank top.

“Hey”, you greet him, looking at the things he has in hands and he finally regains his composure.

“Hi”, he gives you a peck on the lips, “this is for you” he hands you a bouquet of red camellias.

You stop for a second, you never received flowers. Before you can answer him, your father's head is popping out of the living room.

“Why is it taking so long for you to bring this guy inside?”, he asks grumpy, he's not too happy about you dating but there's nothing he can do about it.

Chan straightens himself, walking to your father to greet him.

“Good night, sir. I'm Bang Chan”, he clears his throat when your father doesn't say a thing, just staring at him. “I brought this for you”, he shows the wine bottle and your father takes it.

“At least you have good taste”, he nods to the wine bottle Chan stole from his father's collection.

He turns around, shrugging to you and you smile, listening to your sister's chuckles. You take his hand into yours, interlacing your fingers.

In the living room there's a woman that looks too much like you and your sister to not be your mother, she smiles kindly at you two.

She's less intimidating than your father so Chan's greetings to her are less awkward this time. As time goes by, your parents warm up to him, making jokes and even telling him about your childhood.

“The night went great”, you say while walking Chan to his car. “Thank you for coming”

“Your parents are great”, he says, leaning on the door of his car. He takes your hands in his and pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Thank you for inviting me”

He looks so good tonight, his dark hair is carefully styled and he's wearing much more formal clothes than usual, making him look like a prince.

“Can I have a good night’s kiss?” He asks, slyly, seeing you eyeing him up. You nod, putting your hands on his chest and closing the gap between your mouths. Chan's hands slide from your waist to your ass, squeezing slightly, he can't get too into it since he won't be able to go further than a kiss tonight.

You pull away from him when you have to breathe, his lips are so inviting you could kiss him all night long.

“I will see you tomorrow”, he tells you.

There's something wrong with his heart, it's beating so fast he thinks he may be dying. After driving away from you, he calms himself a bit. It's not possible that you were the cause of that reaction, right? This is supposed to be fun, he only has to date you for a while and then break up, no strings attached. So why does he feel such hurt in his chest after thinking about leaving you?

After one more long and sleepless night Chan realized something: he is in love. This feeling snuck in so unexpectedly he didn't even notice he was falling in love. Chan never fell in love before, so he can only guess that this is how it feels to love someone.

He notices every little detail about you, he jokes around all the time waiting to hear you laugh about something he says. Chan likes the way you smell, the way you smile, the way you just look at him so focused while he is speaking. He is in love with your personality, your cleverness, your kindness, your beauty is just a bonus that makes him even more in love with you.

He wants to confess to you, ask you to be his girlfriend, to never leave him.

He even asked for your sister's help to make something for you, maybe a song, he can definitely make something beautiful and romantic for you. Maybe he can cook too, he wants to make you feel appreciated.

He's waiting for your class to finish, seated on the bench in front of the classroom while scrolling through his phone.

He feels someone sitting by his side and before he can look, a kiss lands onto his cheek. Chan puts his hand on his face, blushing and you laugh seeing his reaction. You two did much more than just a kiss on the cheek, why is he embarrassed about it?

“Did you miss me?” You ask him and he rolls his eyes.

“Of course I did”, he grabs your hand, interlacing your fingers. “Should we go to my place?” He asks and you nod, standing up, pulling him to get up too.

It's still a bit weird that you two are together, you never thought liking someone as much as you like Chan could actually happen to you, you could even say you're in love. The only thing that still makes you doubtful is the fact that he didn't ask you to be his girlfriend yet, you have been going out for a month and you do everything together, so why hasn't he made it official?

You still have many questions in your mind, sitting on Chan's bed while he makes popcorn and you choose the movie you're watching tonight.

He enters the room, closing the door and turning off the lights, two water bottles and a huge bowl in his hands.

“What movie did you choose?” He asks, but you can't hear it, your mind is too loud. “Y/N? Are you alright?” He asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Are we exclusive?” You ask out of nowhere, ripping the air out of his lungs.

“Yes”, he says firmly, “do you want to be with other people?”

Chan asked that, but he's holding his breath until you answer him, hoping you're going to deny. For a moment, you don't say a thing and seeing you hesitate makes his heart ache.

“No, I-” you try speaking, trying not to sound ridiculous, “I want to be exclusive, I just don't know if you want that”

Chan takes a deep breath, putting the things he has in hands on the nightstand.

“Of course, I want to”, he takes your hand into his, bringing it to his mouth so he can kiss the palm. He's feeling guilty, he's taking his time preparing a nice confession but you're feeling insecure. “I'm sorry I made you feel like I didn't want things to get more serious”, he climbs on the bed, getting closer to you, “let me show you that you're the only one I want, hum? Can I?”

You suck on your teeth, knowing exactly what is about to happen but you just can't say no to him, let's be real, you don't want to say no to him. So you nod, making him smile.

Chan is eager to have you, he has been for weeks, just waiting for you to be ready to give yourself to him. He cups your face, pulling you closer and kissing you.

He helps you lay down on the bed, towering over you while landing kisses down your neck. You feel him biting on your shoulder and he brings his hands to the hem of your shirt, pulling it up. His hands travel around your body, making you hotter.

“You're so pretty, princess”, he says, kissing your chest. You whine, he's taking too much time to get to the place you want the most.

“Channie”, you whisper, “please, touch me”, you ask him.

His smile grows bigger as he mumbles “your wish is my command”. Chan unbuttons your pants, pulling them down your legs, throwing it someplace in the room.

He slides his hand down to your core, your underwear is soaked. He pulls your panties down your legs and brushes a finger along your folds, collecting the wetness before inserting a finger inside, you arch your back to the feeling. It's delicious, but it hurts a bit. It's different from how it feels doing it alone.

“Is this okay?” He asks and you nod. “You're such a good girl, baby, all wet and ready for me.” He whispers, getting closer to your face again. I'm going to put another one”, he tells you. The sensation it's too much already, his fingers are too much.

“Chan”, you moan, “I'm gonna cum if you keep doing that”

“Oh? But I didn't even get to the better part”, he answers pressing his thumb on your clit, making circles.

“Fuck”, you whine.

His smirk grows while he keeps the movement of back and forth inside of you. Before he can tease you more, your legs are shaking and your tight hole is clenching around his fingers. You put your hand on your mouth, covering it so you won't make a loud sound, but he doesn't like that. He wants to hear how well he's fucking you.

“Let's not do that, okay? I want you to be loud, want to hear you scream my name” He says, pulling his fingers out of you and sliding them on his mouth. He comes closer, kissing your neck and face, helping you calm down after your orgasm.

Goosebumps rise all over your body, his kisses feel like fire on your skin, you thought you'd feel less horny after cumming, but you're still so turned on.

Chan kisses your chest, opening your bra. You feel embarrassed when he sees you completely naked.

“You're still dressed”, you point out, face red.

He gets out of the bed immediately, taking his shirt off and his pants too, crawling back to you in only his underwear. His cock is hard, outlined by the thin fabric of his boxers.

You feel the urge to touch him, maybe taste it. So you grab his length, making him groan.

“What are you doing, princess?” He asks, eyes closed from the pleasure of having your beautiful hands wrapped around him.

“I want to make you feel good”, you tell him, pushing his chest and making him fall on his back on the bed. You kiss his neck the same as he was doing to you, suddenly feeling possessive and sucking on the skin, leaving a few hickeys there.

You go down, kissing his chest and stomach, getting closer and closer to his throbbing cock. You pull his underwear down and his cock spring on your face.

“I just- you need to teach me”, you tell him. How can you look at him with such innocence in your eyes when you're about to suck him off?

“Hold the base”, he instructs, “now you can go up and down with your hand.”

He feels your movements, making him groan. You are bolder than he gives you credit for, since you lick the head of his cock without being told to. You wrap his dick with your mouth, waiting for the next command.

“You can go up and down, princess, yes, like that” he moans, feeling his cock being embraced by your warm mouth.

Chan feels like exploding any time now, weeks of pent-up sexual tension being released. He sees you rubbing yourself on his bed while sucking on him, that just makes him crazier, he wants to make you feel good now, he can let you do the same for him another time.

“Baby”, you hear him say and you stop your movements. “I won't be able to last long with your soft mouth doing that, I need to feel you around my cock”

You nod, letting go of his cock and climbing up, stopping on top of Chan.

“I wanna be on top”, you say confidently.

“Let's do it slowly okay? I don't want to hurt you”, Chan tells you and you agree.

He grabs the base of his cock, brushing the head on your folds, trying to wet it enough to make it easier for you.

It feels like heaven when his cock finally slides inside of you, you're so tight he feels like he can cum at any moment.

Chan sees the pain in your eyes, he doesn't move, “do you want to stop?” He asks worriedly, putting his hands on your hips to stop you from moving but you shake your head.

You keep pushing it in, trying to relax. Chan kisses you, massaging your breasts to help you relax a bit.

When the painful part is gone and you're feeling all the good sensations back, you don't think you can stop, it's too addictive. You start riding on him freely, hands taking support on his chest and head thrown back, the pleasure is just too much, you'll be coming soon.

“Fuck, you look so good riding me, princess”, he says, feeling his own high almost catching him.

“Oh, Channie, I'm gonna cum”, you whine, fastening the movements of your hips, “please, oh, your cock feels so good”

For someone who couldn't talk about a wet dream a few weeks ago you sure talk dirty in real life, Chan chuckles, feeling you clenching around him and when you squeeze his cock for the last time he cums too, filling you up.

You collapse on top of him, breathing heavily. Your eyes are heavy, you're not sure if you can stay awake. Chan caresses your back and plays with your hair, making you fall fast asleep.

You wake up feeling just a bit sore. You're on cloud nine, the night was amazing. When you open your eyes, there's no one in the bed with you. You wrap yourself in the blankets trying to find and collect all your clothes scattered around the room.

The delicious smell that embraces your nose the moment you step out of the room, is enough to make you drool.

Chan is in the kitchen, dressed in nothing but sweatpants and an apron. That's right, he's shirtless. You're feeling bold today, so you get closer to him wrapping your arms around his waist in a back hug.

He lets out a laugh, putting his hand over yours and turning off the stove. He turns around, hugging you.

“Did you sleep well?” He asks, kissing your forehead and you nod, snuggling in his embrace.

“Why didn't you wake me earlier? I woke up missing you”

“Ow, my baby is so needy”, he teases, making you pout. “I was making you, breakfast”

“Hm”, you look at what he was cooking.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, a bit worried, it was your first time after all.

“I'm doing great”, you smile, “just a bit sore, but it's nothing”

He nods, putting his hands on your shoulders and turning you around.

“I'm happy to hear that”, he kisses the top of your head, guiding you to take a seat on the table. “Let's eat so we can go for another round then”, he smirks.

—

“Jeongin is coming here today?” You ask your sister and she nods frantically while fixing her hair.

“He's coming to ask dad's permission to date me”, she giggles excitedly.

“Alright”, you smile seeing your sister so happy.

You're the one opening the door for Jeongin while your sister is getting ready, he's clearly nervous but he's trying to keep his smile.

“Hey!” You give space for him to enter, “Yuna is almost done”

He nods, looking around. Your sister comes down minutes later, leading Jeongin to the living room.

Your father is less hostile to him than he was to Chan, maybe it's because Jeongin is adorable.

After an hour of conversation, you go upstairs, you have a date tonight and need to get ready.

The memories from your night with Chan flood your mind making you giggle and kick your feet, they have been your most cherished thoughts lately. It's a struggle but you finally end your bath after probably an hour.

You walk back to your room, you're already late. However, you stop in front of your sister's room when you hear voices being a little bit too loud.

“You did what, Jeongin?” your sister's voice is a pitch higher than usual.

“I didn't think things would get out of hand”, Jeongin answers, are they fighting?

“In what world did you think that was a good idea?”

“I was desperate, I'm not proud of that”, he answers back.

“There's no excuse for you to ask Bangchan to date my sister”, she tries speaking lower but you still can hear them. Your whole world crumbles with that one sentence, what does she mean by that?

“I didn't do it to be mean, I know how hard it is for your sister to get to meet new people, I thought it would benefit the both of us”, he tries explaining. Your heart is beating too fast, the throbbing in your ears grows stronger and your legs are giving out.

“How am I supposed to tell her now? She is so happy” Yuna cries out. “Don't come any closer, get out of here”, you panic instantly, they can't see you there. But you're too slow, when you finally manage to move Jeongin is swinging the door open. He stops on his tracks, turning white on the spot.

“Y/N-”, he tries to speak, but you run to your room before he can say anything else.

You can't believe this is actually happening to you, you thought that someone finally liked you but everything was a lie? That's not possible, right?

You are going to go to Chan, you two have a date, and he is going to tell you that Jeongin is lying, that he was just joking.

The uber to Chan's apartment doesn't seem to show up fast enough and the ride there couldn't be slower. You're restless, fidgeting with your fingers and shaking your legs.

You pay the man, practically running out of the car and running upstairs. The person who opens the door is not Chan but Changbin, you met him a few times when you were visiting the apartment.

“Hey, y/n”, Changbin greets you. “Chan is not home, but he will be here soon, I heard you have a date”, he says, letting you in.

“I'm going to wait for him in his room”, you tell him, too disturbed to worry about proper manners.

You walk back and forth in the room, anxiously waiting for Chan's arrival. You hear his voice after twenty minutes, he's talking to his friend in the living room when Changbin tells him you're there.

You can hear the fast footsteps leading to where you are, you take a deep breath, trying not to cry.

“Hey, baby”, Chan smiles at you, dropping his bag on the floor and walking towards you with open arms. “Did something happen?” He stops, noticing your face.

You stare at him for a minute, brows knit together and eyes trying to find the least bit of sincerity in the time you two spent together.

“Did you ask me out as a favor to Jeongin?” You ask and his standing falter, how did you find out?

“L-let me explain”, he says, taking a step closer to you.

“So you did”, you feel the tears trying to escape from your eyes.

“Please, just… just hear what I have to say”, he asks, trying to hold your hand, but you pull away from him.

“I don't want to hear a thing from you”, you tell him, running your hands through your hair.

It really was all a lie. How could you be so dumb?

You walk past him, trying to get out of the room, go anywhere but there. But Chan grabs your arm, making you stop in your tracks.

“Please, don't leave”, he begs. You feel a pang in your chest, but it doesn't make a difference since you're already hurting too much.

“You have no right to ask me that”, you pull your arm out of his grasp and walk out of the apartment.

It would be too humiliating to enter the uber while bawling your eyes out, so you decide to walk. You walk for a long time before your feet start hurting and your eyes are burning from how much you cried. You can't believe you really let yourself fall pray to such a scheme, you thought you were smarter than that.

It's obvious you only fell for it because it's Chan, you were attracted to him since the first time you laid eyes on him. You try to believe that it wouldn't be that easy to trick you if it was anyone else.

After at least two hours, you finally reach your house and you're feeling utterly miserable. You greet your parents and walk upstairs, anxiously searching for your room so you can finally let yourself fall and cry as much as you can.

Your sister is seated on your bed, biting on her nails. She stands up as soon as she sees you.

“I'm really sorry”, she says, teary.

You sigh, feeling the weight on your chest even heavier.

“It's not your fault”, you tell her. You start to undress, looking for your pajamas so you can snuggle on your bed until all of this passes.

“I shouldn't have started dating before you”, she whines.

“I don't blame you, so stop doing that to yourself”, you say, even though you feel a bit of resentment because Jeongin likes her truly, he likes her because she's her. Of course no one's going to like you, you're… you.

“But”, she bites on her lower lip, not sure if she should say this, “I think Chan really likes you-”, she stops talking when you give her the meanest glare you ever threw in someone's way.

“I don't want to hear it”, you say.

“He even asked help so he could confess to you in a way you would like”, she continues.

“I'm not going to repeat myself”, you say and your sister knows that tone too well, it's better for her to stay silent for the time being. “If you're done, I would like to be alone”

Yuna nods, glancing at you all the way to the door.

You collapse on your bed, finally able to cry your eyes out without people looking at you in a weird way. This is the moment you realize how much you love Bang Chan, the pain you're feeling is greater than anything you ever felt in your whole life, you truly don't think you'll be able to survive this.

Chan is an idiot, he knows this and you are right to never look at his face again. But even though he knows you're right, he can't accept the thought of you leaving him.

He tried calling and texting you, you blocked him. He tried talking to your sister, she cursed him out and told him to leave you alone. She and Jeongin are on bad terms right now but they didn't break up yet.

He tried to find you in the university, but you didn't show up for the entire week, he just doesn't know what to do.

“You are an idiot”, Hyunjin says after listening to the whole story, “you should have told her about it while you still had time”

“I didn't know I was in love”, Chan runs his hands through his hair, “not until it was too late”

His friend sighs, he just can't see Chan like that anymore. He's just miserable, he looks like he's dying and Hyunjin doesn't doubt it could actually happen at this point.

So as a good friend, he takes this matter into his own hands and calls your sister, trying to convince her to listen to Chan and maybe forgive Jeongin too, Hyunjin is tired of him whining all day long.

“Did you really call me here for this?”, Yuna asks, ready to grab her things and go home.

“Hear me out, okay?” He says. “I know what they did was wrong but they regret it, Jeongin even told you about it”

She huffs, crossing her arms.

“He told me because I was talking about how Chan wanted to ask y/n to be his girlfriend”, she says. “He felt guilty, he would have never told me about it otherwise”

“Chan really likes y/n, he really wants to be with her”

Yuna sighs, she knows that. There was no way Chan could fake the way he looked at you.

“She's not going to believe that”, Yuna says, “y/n is heartbroken, she's not even going to her classes. She just stays in her room all day, crying’

“There's nothing better to fix her broken heart then”, Hyunjin points out, “let's help them meet, they can talk things out that way”

“She doesn't want to see him”, Yuna sighs, “but I do think this is the best solution”

“Okay, I'll text you the day and time, just bring y/n, Chan will take care of the rest”

Yuna nods, collecting her things but before she can stand up, Hyunjin's voice sounds again.

“About Jeongin-”, he starts, but she cuts him off right away.

“This whole mess started because of Jeongin”, she takes a deep breath, “after y/n and Chan resolve this matter I'll see what I'm going to do about him”

Yuna turns around, leaving Hyunjin there. At least he got Chan a chance, he can't save everyone.

Chan can't take it anymore, he has to see you. So he musters all the courage he has and goes to your house. It doesn't help that it's 2 a.m. so everyone is sleeping, except you it seems, since there's light coming from your room.

He begins throwing rocks at your window, trying to make you notice him and after a few tries he sees your face popping out.

Chan wishes he didn't come at all, your face is puffy so he knows you have been crying and the way you're looking at him, it's just awful, he feels despicable. More than he has felt all this time without you.

“What do you want?” You ask, at least you didn't ignore him.

“Can you come down for a bit?”

You sigh, you don't actually want to, but you're afraid he'll make too much noise trying to convince you to go down and wake up the neighbors or even worse, your parents.

You close the window, he knew it would be hard, that you wouldn't want to see him. Before he can turn around and walk away, Chan hears the sound of the front door opening.

You are in your pajamas, holding yourself trying to protect your body from the cold air.

You stop in your tracks, looking at him with an intense gaze, like you can read all his thoughts and know about all his mistakes.

“How have you been?” He asks and you scoff.

“Are you here to survey my mood? I have been feeling like shit, what about you?” He remembers the first time he talked to you, how he wished to see you mad, now he regrets that. He never wanted to see you mad at him.

“I'm not well either”, he says.

You sigh.

“Now that we know how each other is feeling, you can go”, you tell him.

“Can you let me explain?” He pleads.

“Did you start dating me as a favor for Jeongin?” You ask and he sighs, nodding. “That's all I need to know, I would appreciate it if you don't come looking for me anymore”, you say, turning around and going back inside. Tears start running down your face while you go back to your room, when will this pain subside?

—

You are finally back at school, after moping around all day at home for an entire week, you decided it was time to get back to your life. Staying at home just made you feel worse, you didn't have a thing to distract yourself so you ended up thinking about Chan the whole time. That only weakened your resolve to forget about him, you avoided coming to school because you knew you would give in if he tried to approach you.

Your day goes by fast enough and you just want to go home to lay on your bed. You feel your phone buzzing, it's a message from Jeongin. You were so angry with Chan that you forgot to block him.

He should be begging to meet Yuna, so why is he asking to meet you? Maybe he wants your help to fix things between them.

You don't know why you decided to meet him, maybe it's curiosity to know why he did such a thing to you or maybe you want to look at his face and curse at him.

He arrives at the cafe at the set time, looking around for you and walking towards you when his eyes lock with yours.

“Hey”, he says, sitting in front of you. You don't say anything back, not in the mood to be polite.

Jeongin sighs, he expected this much.

“I wanted to talk with you about this whole situation, believe me I didn't mean to hurt you even though it ended up happening in the end-”

“I considered you my friend”, you say making him stop talking.

“I- I'm”, he says, voice a pitch higher.

“Friends don't do what you did”, you say and he nods.

“I know it was an ill executed plan, but my intentions weren't bad, I swear”, he tells you.

“And do your intentions matter if I was the one hurt in the end?” You ask, angrier now.

“No”, he answers. “I'm truly sorry, I swear, I just caught you staring at Chan more than once. I thought this would be good for us both but I was clearly wrong”

You huff, exhausted. You start collecting your things to go home but you hear Jeongin's voice once more.

“Chan really likes you, he fell in love with you”, he says and your heart skips a beat, it shouldn't be behaving like this, not after the heartbreak you are going through.

“I don't care, he lost his chance”, you answer firmly, even though you know it's not true.

“Are you sure?” Jeongin asks, “are you sure you won't regret it? Not let him explain or not hearing him out?”

You glance at him once more, before standing up and walking out of the cafe.

Your mid terms are finally over, that means, you don't have anything to study so you're stuck with your thoughts. Your phone buzzes in your pocket, it's a message from Yuna, asking you to meet her in the arts department.

You reply, saying you'll be there in a moment. What is she even doing there? She's a business major.

The arts department is not far from yours, but it's emptier than you are used to. She asked you to meet in the first classroom of the second floor.

When you open the door, the first thing you see is Bang Chan. He looks awful, worse than you even.

You try going back, but he already saw you, so he stands up, coming closer.

“Don't leave, I'll do anything just… don't leave”

He's pale, and the eyebags he normally has are darker than usual.

“Are you sick?” You ask, worried. It's not like you can stop loving him in such a short period of time, of course you're worried.

“No”, he says, “I mean, I'm not feeling well, but I don't think I have an illness”

You nod, feeling awkward. It's been a while since you felt this way about him.

“Okay, then I'll get going”, you say trying to leave, but his voice stops you.

“I love you”, he is desperate, you can hear it in his voice. However, you're too petty.

“This was part of Jeongin’s plan too?”, you scoff, seeing his lips trembling.

He takes a deep breath, he deserves that, he knows he does.

“I really started going out with you because Jeongin asked”, he starts explaining, “but I fell in love with you, for real”

You feel your heart ache once more, he's about to cry, you can see it. But you're not sure if you can forgive him, even if what he's telling you is true.

“I don't believe you”, you say, shrugging, trying to hold your own tears.

“I will do anything to prove it to you, just say what I need to do for you to believe me”, he says, taking a step closer to you.

“I'm not sure if I'll be able to forget this or even forgive you, Chan”, you sigh, letting your heart speak and not your anger.

“I know I messed up, I don't deserve you I know that too”, he grabs your hand, “but please, I'll prove to you that I deserve a second chance, I'll earn back your trust”, he pleads.

You sigh, even after all this, it seems you still can't say no to him.

“I'm going to need some time”, you say slowly, “but I will give you a second chance, you better not ruin it”, you say.

Chan can't believe you're really going to try and forgive him, he can't ask for anything more.

“I won't disappoint you this time, I promise”, he says, kissing the palm of your hand, the same way he did before.

“Let's see about that”, you sigh, feeling your heart beating fast once again.

You may be making a stupid choice, but you'll only learn by making mistakes. You just sure hope this is not one.

A/N: If you like what I write please reblog or let me know in the comments, feedback gives me motivation to keep writing.

4K notes · View notes

gojonanami · 7 months

Text

ALL'S FAIR (IN LOVE AND MERGERS) ✩ SATORU GOJO

✴︎ summary: you're not sure what's worse -- being an arranged marriage or being an arranged marriage with the person who used to be your best friend. ✴︎ contents: 18+ only, nsfw, arranged marriage au, gojo and reader are both heirs to large companies, childhood best friends to enemies to lovers, lots of fluff + banter, gojo is down bad, geto makes an appearance, handjobs (f!+m! receiving), oral (f!+m! receiving), creampie, unprotected sex, dom! + sub!gojo, degradation (slut), breeding kink, gojo has a praise kink, semi public sex, office sex, tiny amount of sexting, under the desk oral (m!receiving), pet names (sweetheart, princess, baby), pregnancy mentions ✴︎ wc: 16,381 (why do i do this to myself?)

“Why do you look so down, Princess?” Your eyes flicker up from your book, forcing your expression to stay disinterested — the one emotion Satoru hated, “shouldn’t you share your feelings with your fiancé?”

“Don’t call yourself that,” you snap, and his lips curl at your reaction, “what are you so smug about? You’re stuck in the same position as me,”

“And what’s that?” You close your book, glaring daggers at his all too perfect face.

“Marrying your worst enemy.”

It wasn’t always like this.

Satoru Gojo used to be your friend — your best friend in fact. The fact your families’ companies were rivals often meant you ran in the same social circles more often than not. And it meant more than one boring adult party that the two of you were stuck with each other.

The two of you had become inseparable — attending the same prestigious schools with the most pretentious children, though the two of you were no exceptions. But you liked to think you were.

And you didn’t realize your feelings for Satoru, until someone else had.

“Do you want to hang out on Friday?” You ask, flipping through the channels as the two of you watched TV, looking for something other than the second half of movies and the reruns of shows you didn’t care for.

“I can’t, I’m going to the formal,” he replies, not looking up from his phone, and you pause.

“You’re going to that?” You raise an eyebrow, “we’ve never went,”

“Well I never had someone ask me who I wanted to go with,” his eyes flicker up from his phone, a smirk on his lips, “you jealous?”

Your reply leaves your lips like whiplash, “You wish,” you cross your arms, but you can’t help ask the question burning on your lips, “who are you going with?”

“Akari,” and you scoff, “what?”

“That girl goes out with a new guy every week,” you shake your head, “you’re better off staying at home with me,”

“So you are jealous,” he hums, leaning back on the couch, “if you wanted to go with me, all you had to do was ask, Princess,”

Your cheeks flush, which you make up for in indignancy and sharp words, “Don’t call me that,” the nickname your family affectionately had called you had become Satoru’s favorite thing to call you, “I’m just telling you to be careful — that girl isn’t someone you should trust with your feelings,”

“I think I’ll use my own judgment instead of someone who hasn’t even been on a single date before,” his tone is far too biting and his accuracy is far too sharp — and you can’t stop your face from dropping, and his lips part - regret flashing across his features, “princess—“

“Go home, Satoru,” you rise, brushing past him, “you know the way out,”

“Princess—“ he tries to reach for your hand, but you slap it away. His hand retracts like he’d been burned.

“Please, go,” you open the door for him, and he does, and little do you know that would be one of the last times you spoke.

The day of the formal arrives, the two of you hadn’t seen each other outside of class since that day. But Satoru did see you at the dance that night - on the arm of his former best friend, Suguru — the same one he had a falling out with a year ago. He doesn’t say a word to you, but you don’t miss the hurt in his eyes - but you wonder why it was there in the first place - and why he was acting like you put it there.

It all goes to hell after.

The Gojo Corporation poaches one of your family’s biggest clients in a shady backroom deal, breaking their truce and your family’s trust. Arguments and stress reach a peak over the phone and lines are drawn and metaphorical guns are drawn.

And you and Satoru are caught in the crossfire.

Not that you weren’t firing shots yourself.

It wasn’t until you pulled Satoru into a secluded classroom, and you shut the door behind the two of you. Even with the sunglasses perched on his nose as always, he flinches in the bright light of the sun setting behind you, dipping the classroom in a blazing orange — light sensitivity nearly required him to wear his sunglasses out, but he certainly made a statement in them — though what didn’t he make a statement in?

“What are we going to do about our families?” you chew your lip — you had listened this morning to your father rant about the Gojo family — unkind words to say about them all, even Satoru himself, who your father had treated as a second son — and now he was grilling you about what you had told him about the family business.

“What can we do?” His arms are crossed and his gaze is upwards, “they are going to do what they want,”

You stare at him, your heart cracks, blood rushing in your ears, “Satoru, if this gets worse, we won’t be able to be friends,” you refuse to let your voice break.

“So what? I know the way out, don’t I?” But your heart did break, “I’m sure Suguru could comfort you,”

Your eyes burn, but you can’t, you can’t let him see you cry, “Why are you so upset? You had a date—“

“And mine wasn’t the person who backstabbed me,” he bites back, “what my family did is done, and so are we,” and he doesn’t look back when he leaves.

And it was good — because he didn’t see you cry.

And now you sat with him in your living room, trying to process the fact you would be legally married soon enough.

“Worst enemy? I know you liked to embellish princess, but that seems excessive,” he snorts, “glad to know I haven’t escaped your thoughts these years,”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” and he grins his shit eating grin, and it’s almost as if no time has passed, except the person who sits before you isn’t a seventeen year old with an attitude of a shithead — it’s an adult man (albeit with the same attitude).

“Don’t need to - you already do that for me, baby,” he winks, and you don’t know whether you want to slap him or strangle him. Either way, you wanted him to shut up, “shouldn’t we at least try to make the best of this?”

“The best of what?” You scoff, ready for your veins to burst out of your head, if only to spare you the agony of this conversation, “Gojo, we were best friends a million years ago and then we weren’t and now we’re getting married - all on the whims of our families, so how do we make the best of it?”

He pauses a moment, almost thoughtfully, “I was your best friend?”

And you rise to your feet, “this is impossible,” you brush past him, but he catches you by your wrist, his thumb grazing your pulse.

“Princess, I’m sorry,” he says, and you stop, meeting his gaze reluctantly, his lips part, “that you were so annoying in high school—“

“Fuck you,” and you storm off as he cackles, but you don’t notice the small smile on his lips that stays as he watches you.

And nor do you hear him say, “God, I missed you.”

“This is ridiculous,” you mutter under your breath, as you place back the millionth dress you looked at, “we’re hardly celebrities but we have to make a public appearance?”

Your families wanted the marriage to be portrayed as a love marriage in the media - childhood friends falling in love after reconnecting - the thing of love stories. The thing that would circle the drain on social media on cute threads of meetcutes and what ifs. When in fact, you were being forced on a shopping date with an already well paid and positioned paparazzi ready to take pictures of this charade.

“You may not be, Princess, but I am quite the catch,” Satoru takes the attention in stride, not only of the paparazzi, but the passersby who gawked at the two of you. It was true, Satoru was nearly always listed as an eligible bachelor in far too many of these lists that existed, if not the eligible bachelor, and yet here you were, glued to his side like some taudry accessory.

“So does that mean if I just toss you away, someone else will catch you?” You grumble, and he looks at you over the rim of his sunglasses.

“Like it or not, you caught me,” he flashes you those pearly whites, and you supposed he blinded you as you stumble forward, tripping. But you don’t kiss the pavement — but you almost wish you do. He catches you, his arm around your waist, the other on your shoulder, and his eyes graze over you in a flash of concern, and then amusement, “and I’m not going anywhere this time,”

And you flush, the clicks of cameras in the distance snapping you back to reality, as you right yourself with a fake smile plastered on your lips. You brush his shirt off as lovingly as you can, “And if I go?”

His lips only curl into his obnoxiously charming smile, as he gestures for you to walk on, “I’ll follow, Princess,”

Finally the trip is over, and Satoru is driving the both of you back, “I’m surprised you took a day off for this,” he remarks, “usually you work all week,”

“Well I wasn’t given much of a choice, now was I?” And then you glance at him, furrowing your brow, “how do you know how often I work?”

“What’s the phrase? Keep your enemies close, and your lovers closer?” He gives a wry grin as you scowl at him, “you’re not surprised I kept tabs on you, are you?”

“Well, no,” because you did the exact same. You pinned the blame on late nights and doom scrolling on social media — curiosity killed the cat.

“And now I know you kept tabs on me,” he looks far too satisfied with himself, “I’m flattered,”

“Yeah, yeah,” you wave him off, “it’s not like you’re that interesting to begin with,”

“Sure,” he smirks, and then you glance outside, noticing you were getting further out from home rather than closer.

“Where are we going?” You sit up, glancing around — you didn’t recognize the area.

“Oh, you didn’t think our date was over yet, did you?” his lips curl, his eyes still on the road, “we are just going to a more private location,”

“If you take me to a hotel, I will slap you,” you murmur, and he laughs, a sound that makes your stomach flip.

“I didn’t know a princess’s mind could be in the gutter,” he remarks, his fingers flexing on the wheel, a small infinity tattoo on his ring finger, and your mind really then all but fled to the gutter as you thought what else he could use those fingers for.

“Oh my mind goes a lot of places,” this was growing more dangerous — for your tongue and for your heart.

And he notices your gaze flickering to his hands, and his lips curl, “I think I’d like to familiarize myself with the places your mind goes, Princess,” You flush, “but that’s for a different day.”

“Where are you taking me anyway?”

“We’re almost there, just enjoy the ride,” you eventually pull up to a park, and he leaves the car, opening the door for you, “after you, my lady,”

You slide out of the car, as he shuts the door behind you, and then pulls a basket out of the back, “Is there tape and rope in there?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Didn’t know you were into that,” he winks, as you glare at him, “it’s a picnic basket - this is a nice spot to watch the sunset,”

“You watch sunsets?”

“Only with you,” you roll your eyes.

“Such a dork - are these the lines you use on all your dates? And don’t say only with me,” you add quickly, and he snorts.

“You catch on quick,” and he takes your hand, leading you along, “come on,”

His hand envelops yours, his fingers eventually intertwining with yours, his warmth flooding your body, but you can’t urge yourself to pull away.

A bottle of sparkling cider and a charcuterie board later, the two of you watch the sun begin its descent, blazing colors bleeding into one another.

“Why are you doing this?” You ask, looking over your glass as you sip, “even when we used to hang out, I was the one to bring the snacks,”

“Well times change,” he replies, “plus you’re the one who always stopped me from buying snacks,”

“You always bought only sweets — it was always chocolate, sugar, and desserts,” you roll your eyes, “I see you got over that,”

“Nah, I just decided to buy things I know you like,” and your heart traitorously squeezes, but then he points, “look,” and your gaze falls onto the sunset and you gasp softly.

“It’s beautiful,” you sigh, and you don’t notice Satoru’s gaze on your face, a small smile on his lips.

“It is,” and you look back at him, his eyes shifting to you again.

“You never answered my question,” you say, “why are we doing this?”

“Why wouldn’t we? We’re getting married, Princess, did you forget?” He expertly dodges the question, swiftly leaping over a landmine, but you weren’t one to mince words or hesitate to do a direct assault.

“We’re getting married, it doesn’t mean we have to date,” you tilt your head, “Gojo, tell me—“

“Call me Satoru,” his words are so soft, hesitant even, as if his words could break apart any second if he had spoken them any quieter.

It’s a fragility he doesn’t often grace you with - that’s he’s maybe never given to you, and you don’t wish to break it.

But you’re also scared - scared that this will break yours.

“Satoru,” you whisper, and he smiles — the same smile he’d greet you with when you would meet up after school, the same smile when he’d beat you at whatever game you guys were playing, and the same smile you hadn’t seen in so long, “why are you doing all of this?”

“Is it not obvious?” He’s leaning closer and you only realize that you’re doing the same when your wrist hurts from leaning on your hand.

“Nothing is obvious when it comes to you, Satoru,” his lips warm yours with his breath, and the sun has set - there’s no other explanation for the warmth blooming on your skin other than him—

Ring. Ring. Ring.

His phone ringing sends both of you flinching apart, but his eyes don’t leave you for a lingering moment, before he picks up.

“Hello,” his voice is unwavering even after the moment you shared, you barely hear what he says over the blood thundering in your ears, “yes, we’ll be home shortly. Ok. Bye,”

He turns to look back at you, “My parents were wondering where we went,” and you nod, “we should get back,” and he begins to pack away the things,

“Satoru—“ you start, but he grabs your hands, tugging you forward.

“What?” he smiles, “not ready to part with me yet, princess?”

You scowl, pushing him away, brushing past him to the car, “Forget it,”

And he catches you by your wrist and pulls you back to him, your back against his front, “I don’t want to forget it,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “I—”

And his phone rings again, and he sighs, showing you that it was your father this time, putting his phone on silent, “Our parents have impeccable timing,” and the moment is broken, as the two of you walk back to the car in relative silence, the sun long sunk below the horizon, and the moment along with it.

The wedding comes and goes without much ado — it was a private ceremony done with only your families and a few close family friends. And aside from a photo shoot that was to be “leaked” of the two of you looking far too lovey dovey that wound up circulating the media drain and ended up causing you and Satoru to keep a low profile for a week or two, not much of your life changed. The only thing being that you and Satoru slowly start to move in together, each moving your things into separate bedrooms, not that you’re around enough to even notice a shift as the work piled on due to the merger, only accumulates, and as do your late nights.

You come home again, back to your shared apartment, late at night, shutting the door softly behind you. You slip your shoes off, along with your jacket by the door, before setting your things down. You stretch your sore muscles, your stomach crying for mercy of the deprivation you had put it through today, and you allow it to lead you to the kitchen.

Satoru was surprisingly neat, aside from his own room that was a disaster zone not worth entering. The living spaces were always clean, as was the kitchen (though you had a sneaking suspicion he had hired a cleaning service to specifically tidy up when you were gone (due to the lingering lemony scent every surface had at times). You rummage through the refrigerator as quietly as you could, but not quietly enough as the lights flick on, and you feel akin to a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“I feel like I’ve seen the mailman more than my own wife this week,” Satoru stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame of the door, a small grin on his lips, but a hint of something else in his eyes — concern? You don’t have the time to decipher the feeling, as your mind chooses to replay the phrase “my wife” on repeat.

“The merger has been killer to deal with — all the diligence requests has buried us,” you grumble, as you grab a box of cereal off the top of the refrigerator and the milk from the inside, and he’s holding a bowl and a spoon, “thanks,” as you reach for it, he holds it away from you.

“You know there’s something called delegating that you should try sometime, princess,” he says, tilting his head, “otherwise, you’re likely to run yourself into the ground,”

“It sounds like you care,” he puts down the bowl and spoon, grabbing the cereal and milk from you, and fixing a bowl for you, as you rub your eyes, sitting on the stool by the island.

His lips curl, “Who said I didn’t?”

You lay on the counter, staring up at him, “Didn’t know my husband could be anything but annoying,” and you enjoy the way his eyebrows shoot up, and it may have been your tired eyes, but you swore a small pink flush settled his way onto his cheeks, “cute,” you mumble, the word escaping you before you could stop it.

“What?” his eyes snap to yours, but he only finds them closed, the soft snores from your lips told him you weren’t pretending, as he stares at you, biting his lip, before sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose, “what are you doing to me, princess?” he murmurs.

And the next morning when you wake, you find yourself tucked into bed, as you roll over, to find your alarms had been turned off, and you were far too late to several meetings you had that morning.

You jolt up, before you find a note stuck to your shirt, you pause in your panic, to peel it off and read it:

Canceled your meetings for today and had your staff handle the ones they could deal with. You’re taking a break. You need it. - Satoru.

You wanted to protest, but even as you willed yourself to try and check your email, your body was screaming in agreement with Satoru, and you sighed, lying back down in bed, as you drifted into a dreamless sleep, with the note still in your hand.

~~~~~

“Gojo, get back in bed,” you cross your arms in front of his doorway, “you’re sick,”

“I’m fine,” he pouts, his normally pale skin flushed with a red tinge that gave away his fever, his eyes bloodshot from a restless night, and yet he still looked as perfect as ever, if not a bit rumpled from his askew hair and ruffled clothes, “I have to—”

“Rest,” you say, gently pushing him backwards towards his bed, “you need rest. You made me rest, and now it’s your turn,”

“But—”

“Satoru,” and the use of his name stops him in his tracks, as his knees buckle as his legs hit the end of his bed, “please?”

His resistance crumbles, “Princess, I’m fine—” and you press your forehead to his, making his breath catch, your face far too close far too fast.

“You’re burning up,” you ease him back into bed, as you roll your sleeves up, “will you be okay? I’m going to run out and get some supplies - have you taken any medicine?”

He shakes his head, “You can send out someone,” he says, reaching for his phone, but you grab it, “Princess-“

“I’m texting everyone that you’re sick and that you can’t make it in for the next two days while you recover,” you pocket his phone, putting it on silent, “consider this payback,” and you’re pulling on your jacket, “and I’m going to get you some things. I don’t need to send someone out. Do you want anything? I can’t get anything sweet because it will make your cough worse, but is there anything that you want?”

He shakes his head, as you snap your fingers and head out of the room, before returning with cold medicine, “I’ll give you this for now, and then I’ll grab some more while I’m out,”

You pour the medicine into the cup, and he sits up as best he could, reaching for the medicine cup, but you cup his chin, feeding it to him. He feels like his body is burning hotter from your touch than it is the fever, “I have to make sure you drink all of it, you can’t leave half of it in the cup like you did when we were kids,”

“You remember that?” he mumbles, as you help him lie down again, your hands gentle as you help lean back, and you tilt your head.

“I remember every ridiculous thing you did,” you snort, as you check to make sure you got everything — phone, wallet, keys — “just rest here, and call me if you need anything, ok?” his eyes are already starting to droop, heavy with sleep, and he gives a small nod.

And he catches you by your wrist, “Do you have to go?” he mumbles, pulling your hand close to his face, “I don’t want you to go,” his words slur, and he’s asleep in a moment, his hand still clutching yours to his face, lips brushing against your palm.

Heat flares up your cheeks, as you stand, motionless, his soft snores filling the room, as you manage to tug your hand away, and you stand over him, his mouth in an adorable pout, as sweat glistened on his forehead, white locks sticking to the damp skin. You leave for a moment to grab a cold compress for his forehead, and you come back, brushing his hair back to place the compress on. He shivers ever so slightly, but you just rub his head slowly, and he drifts back into sleep.

“I’ll be right back,” you whisper, and you wonder, how often has Satoru been cared for by maids or employees rather than his family? How often had they passed the buck of caring for their son to others as if it was more of a chore than a privilege to take care of someone they loved.

You leave his phone on video call with yours so you can keep an eye on him as he sleeps, even if you were going down the street, you didn’t want to leave him alone completely. Instead of music, you listened to the cacophony of his soft snores and shifting of his sheets. You grabbed the things you needed - medicine, supply for meals, vitamin water, vitamin c supplements, and anything else you could think of.

You return, door shutting softly behind you as you hang up the call, and set everything down on the counter. You poke your head into Satoru’s room to find him still fast asleep, and you remove the cold compress, going to replace it with a new one, but his hand catches yours as it brushes your forehead, and he mumbles your name.

And you flush — were you sure you weren’t getting sick at this point?

You sigh, running your fingers through his hair, “You’re as touchy as you were when we were kids,” and he was — there wasn’t a moment that Satoru wasn’t all over you before the ages of puberty — holding hands, hugging, even laying on top of you — but it was innocent. But even as you got older, it was poking, it was a leg over yours, it was grabbing your wrist instead of your hand.

And now, your hand was dwarfed by his, consuming your wrist and hand with his own, and it was so warm — though exacerbated by his fever. And you couldn’t help but want to lace your fingers through his. But — you pulled your hand away and replace his cold compress — you couldn’t afford thoughts like that.

Not now.

You cooked soup for him, filled with vegetables and nutrients that he clearly did not get enough of, made freshly squeezed orange juice, and put the supplements you wanted him to take on the tray you had found in the kitchen.

You washed your hands, as you start to clean up, your back to his room, and you hear Satoru say your name.

You turn and see him in the doorway, “What are you doing?”

“I should be asking you that,” he murmurs, rubbing his eyes, “what’s all this?”

“Lunch,” you walk over, waving him back into bed, “you need to rest,”

“Did you make me lunch?” he asks slowly, and you help him back into bed, as he frowns, “you didn’t have—”

“You’re my husband, Satoru,” you say, tilting your head, “I’m going to take care of you and not let you work yourself to the bone while you have a cold,”

And his lips curl at the words slowly, “Your husband,” he repeats, as if the words were foreign to him, and your cheeks flush as your words that were embarrassing enough to say linger in the air, “thank you,” he mumbles, as you nod, trying to calm your utterly burning cheeks before entering with the tray.

Satoru sits in bed still, more coherent than a few minutes before, a small smile on his lips as you enter his view, and you place the tray carefully on his bed, “Will you feed me?” And your eyes flit up to his innocent baby blues full of skies that you couldn’t say no to — and he knew that, “please?”

And now you’re feeding him, your lips carefully blowing on the hot soup as you spoon fed him, and he takes each one, “is it good?”

He nods, “It is, I didn’t know you could cook. The last thing I remember you making me was a microwave brownie that you burned,” and you rolled your eyes.

“That was because you told me to microwave it for too long,” you pout, and he laughs, sending him into a coughing fit, “karma,” and he scowls at you, before his lips split into a grin, “what?”

“Must have been pretty good in my past life,” he says, as you blow on another spoonful, “to end up with a pretty little wife like you, Princess,”

And you nearly drop the spoon, a few droplets slipping from the utensil, as he makes you flustered for the eighteenth time today — “Satoru,” you chide, and you’re not even sure what you are chiding him for — his word on a loop in your mind, “i think you’re high on cold medicine, or your fever,”

You don’t think he had ever called you pretty before.

And he leans forward pressing his forehead to yours, “I have no fever right now,” he whispers, his eyes glancing at the tray, “and I haven’t taken my cold medicine yet,”

Your words catch in your throat, and you’re swallowing thickly, as your eyes drift to his lips and back again, “Toru,” and you can’t lean away from him, he’s pulling you in, like he always did.

But then he pulls back, his cheeks flushed, “I think I should lie down,” and you blink, as you nod hastily.

“Of course,” you grab the tray and flee, leaving his medicine and water on the bedside table, heart thumping against your ribs and blood rushing to your cheeks.

And you don’t hear him grumble, “If only I wasn’t sick.”

After Satoru gets better, you barely see him. It feels empty in the house without his presence. You had grown accustomed to his loud, obtrusive presence, the clothes half thrown in the laundry basket, his snacks stacked up in the pantry and sometimes on the counters, and his cologne wafting through the halls. It seems all of that has faded with time, as he does his best to spend his time at work, and away from you.

After the billionth time of this, you get a phone call from his colleague, Nanami, asking for you to come and fetch him. You furrow your brow as he texts you the address of a bar near his work, and you arrive to find him passed out at a table, drink glasses and small plates littered the tabletop, his pale skin flushed, as he snored slightly as he slept.

His colleague too was flushed, but still sat with drink in hand looking utterly irritated and bemused, “How much did he drink?”

“Maybe two drinks?” and you raise an eyebrow, “he’s a lightweight, but he likes to pretend he isn’t,” he snorts, shaking his head, “did you two have a fight?”

You tilt your head, as you check on him, fingers brushing over his skin — he was so warm from the alcohol, “No, why do you ask?”

And Satoru is mumbling your name, again and again, pouting, “Is that you, my wife?” you flush, and that was your cue to get him out of there. Nanami helps you get him to his work car, luckily that came equipped with a driver, and you slide in beside him, as he dozes, his head drifting to your shoulder. His breath is warm against your neck, as he nestles into the soft skin of your nape, and you can feel his lips move, only catching your name between soft sighs and snores.

“Satoru,” you mutter, brushing his hair from his eyes, “what did you do?”

The driver helps you get him inside, and you’re left with him, his body leaning against yours on the couch, as you rouse him, “Satoru, wake up,” your hands cup his cheeks, and his eyes flutter open blearily.

You can still smell the scent of alcohol on his breath — and you know it’s sweet from the scent that drifts from him. Sometimes you wonder if he would taste sweet with how much sugar he consumes, but you brush that thought to the back of your head, as he finally speaks.

“Are you a dream?” he murmurs, and you have to suppress your laugh at his puppy dog stare.

“Don’t think so, Satoru,” you pinch his cheek lightly, “see? I’m real,”

He smiles, so gentle that it almost takes you aback, “Too real,” his hand slides over yours, flattening it against his cheek, “your hand is so soft, just like when we were kids, and we’d always hold hands anywhere we went,”

You swallow thickly, wondering if your cheeks were hotter than his were from the alcohol, “Well my family hasn’t sold me into manual labor yet, so they’ll stay that way,” and his eyes widen almost comically.

“I wouldn’t let them do that,” he says, almost every other word slurred, “can’t do that to my wife,” and your traitorous heart squeezes, despite itself, despite everything telling you that it didn’t mean anything — that he was drunk — and the million other reasons to brush it away, your heart does what it does best — takes it to heart, “I missed you so much,”

And he’s burying his face in your shoulder, warm breath against your skin making you shiver as you hold him gently, “then why have you been avoiding me?” He’s mumbling into your shoulder now, as you can’t help but laugh, “Stop, you’re tickling me.”

And his stare lifts and settles upon you, stopping your breath in its tracks, “I didn’t want to avoid you, I just was…” he mumbles something incoherent, “I couldn’t face you,”

“Why?” and it’s objectively cute the way he pouts, his face scrunching up like a child, his brow adorably furrowed, as he mutters under his breath slurred words you can’t make out, “let’s get you to bed — if you promise not to avoid me anymore,” you hold up a finger to his face.

He nods, lips still in the same pout, “promise,” he murmurs, as you help him into bed, but as you do, he grabs you, tugging you into bed with him with a yelp, his arms trapped you against him, as his face snuggles into your back, “stay,”

Your skin burns at his touch, his face buried into your back, his arms wrapped impossibly around you, “Satoru—”

“Please?” and the resistance you have crumbles, as you sigh, relaxing as best you could into his touch, “thank you, Princess,” he mumbles something else you can’t make out, before falling asleep.

And you bite your lip, ignoring how your skin feels under his touch — how were you ever going to sleep now?

But you do.

Satoru wakes with a slightly pounding head, a small groan caught in the back of his throat, as he stirs at the bright sunlight streaming in, his eyes fluttering awake to find you. His breath catches, as he stares at you. Your mouth slightly ajar, you softly snore as you sleep, your head resting against his arm, and he swallows thickly, as memories of last night trickle in.

And he nearly groans. He had avoided you to stop himself, to hold himself back from embarrassing himself, and he had gone and pulled you into bed with him after getting drunk. How pathetic was it that it only took you referring to him as your husband for all his walls to come crumbling down? Not that those walls ever stood a chance against you — it was easy for him to pull away from everyone, as if he had a barrier around him, stopping anything from coming near. But you — you were one thing that could penetrate his infinity — and the one thing he wanted to be infinite, if only for him.

His cheeks burn at his revelations and he can only be thankful you’re still asleep as he stares at you — god, he had almost let it slip twice last night. He had mumbled it twice, but from what he remembered, you hadn’t made out the words.

His cheeks burned, god he had said the words twice, and you didn’t even hear him, but the words had left his lips. And how many years had he been waiting to say them?

His fingers caress your cheek, making sure you were still asleep before he said them for a third time, “I love you.”

“How many social events must be inflicted upon us?” you mutter, pressed next to Satoru at the bar, as Satoru sips a soda instead of the alcohol they offered — if only to avoid the disaster that was the last time. But still, the lack of alcohol only makes your touch worse without its dulling effects, “and why did we need to go to this?”

“C’mon sweetheart, it’s not so bad,” Satoru smiles, his eyes skimming over your new suit that you had donned for the occasion, “I like seeing you all dressed up,”

“Well I rather be dressed down at home,” and he raises an eyebrow and you flush, “i mean in a t-shirt and shorts, you absolute perv,”

“Whatever you say, princess,” and you’re too busy elbowing him to notice who's walking over, until you hear your name.

You spot Satoru’s eyes narrow, his lips pursed, as you spot Suguru holding a hand up in greeting, patented grin on his lips, “Yo!”

“Suguru, it’s good to see you,” you greet, as he sweeps you up in a hug, and you shoot a look at Satoru, nudging him to be polite at the very least.

“Satoru, long time no see,” Suguru says, and Satoru plasters a fake smile on his lips.

“It has been,” and the three of you make pleasant small talk about your work — Suguru’s family was in a business adjacent to the work your families did.

“I heard about the merger your companies are doing, how have preparations been?” you open your mouth to answer, but Satoru gets to it first, his arm curling around your waist.

“It’s been going well, our marriage was the first step after all, wasn’t it, baby?” and you flush as Satoru does, doing your best not to glare at him.

“It was,” you smile, as Suguru raises his eyebrows.

“I hadn’t heard you both had married — congratulations,”

And then you’re beckoned by your family, and you slip away for a moment, going to speak to them about one thing or another, leaving Satoru and Suguru alone.

“It’s too bad we lost touch all these years,” Satoru sips at his drink.

“You don’t have to say that, Satoru,” Suguru replies, his grin melting away, “I know part of the reason was the business with our families companies, but I also know that it was personal,” and Satoru follows his eyes to you, as you laugh at something your mother said, “how has married life been treating you both?”

And Satoru glares, his grip tight around his glass, “Is your interest personal?”

“It’s not, but I see that you still haven’t been honest with each other,” he smiles over the lip of his drink, “was this marriage arranged by your families?” and Satoru’s silence was enough to confirm it, “well you should be careful, a marriage is a fragile thing, especially without love,”

“Is that a threat?” and Suguru’s dark irises meet his, full of mirth.

“No, just an observation, Satoru,” and you make your re-appearance, looking between the pair, sensing the tension, as your hand curls around Satoru’s, “It was lovely seeing you both. I hope to see more of you.”

And with that he’s gone, “What was that about?” you ask slowly, and Satoru can’t meet your gaze, only sipping his soda, “Satoru?”

“It’s nothing, princess, don’t worry about it,” and you tilt your head, your brow furrowed.

“That’s it,” you sigh, as you glance between the two of them, Suguru’s gaze still lingering on the two of you, “I know what this is about,” you declare, stepping ever closer to Satoru, your fingers brushing at his shoulder, sending his heart into a gallop.

“Princess—” your hand is sliding up his neck, brushing at his undercut, and your lips curl.

“I didn’t know you had an undercut,” and he can’t form words to respond to you, as you tug him closer, your lips were so close now, “it’s kind of hot,” and his mouth is so dry, his eyes can’t help but flicker down to your lips again, as you lean forward, pulling his head closer, closer, closer—

And you kiss him, it's barely a brush at first, but then you pull him in again, and he can taste the wine on your lips now, as your lips meet, his eyes fluttering shut as his hand slides to cup your face, the other around your waist. And finally you part, small pants leaving your lips, as your fingers toy with the hair resting on the back of his neck, smiling at him, as if you had done this a million times before.

And he wanted to do it a million times more. His fingers trace the length of your jaw, delighting in the shiver you give as he touches you, and wondering what other noises he could pull from you.

“Is he still watching?” you whisper, as you smooth over his collar, and he blinks, his eyes following yours to Suguru, who glances at the two of you before looking away, “think we convinced him?”

And his heart sinks just as high as it had soared, “what?” he murmurs, confused.

“He suspected us, right?” you continue with the phony smile on your lips, the heated lust in your gaze, and your soft touches — and it was all enough to break him.

But he doesn’t. He’s Satoru Gojo — he can’t be allowed to break.

So he gives a smile instead, “Yeah, I think we convinced him.”

He can’t help be quiet on the drive home, and he senses your unease, fidgeting in the seat beside him, your attempts to fill the silence falling on deaf ears, and you eventually stop trying, settling to look out of the window instead, until the two of you pull inside your driveway.

You both head inside, and the door shuts behind you, and he watches you struggle to take off your heels, the buckle not cooperating, as you lift your leg to undo it.

But then he’s kneeling before you, undoing your heels for you, as you stammer, “No, Gojo, you don’t have to—”

But his touch is gentle as he helps you out of your heels, one by one, his fingers brushing against your ankles, and then he rises, and for a split second, you forgot how tall he really was.

“No, I want to, because you’re my wife,” and his fingers brush against your jaw. “And I want your thoughts to be of me when I touch you, and not of someone else,” and he tilts your chin up, thumb dragging against your lips before he kisses you.

It was gentle but insistent — and far, far too fleeting, as he pulls away, “and I’ve told you before — I’m your husband, call me Satoru.”

And with that he’s gone, leaving you speechless and alone in your entryway.

You can’t sleep. For several nights.

You replay the moment over and over, the kiss, his words, and all of it.

What the fuck. Were you really up all night because of Satoru Gojo? You lay on your stomach, kicking your feet in frustration as you bury your hot face in your pillow. Your husband was going to be the death of you.

And especially with tomorrow.

Satoru’s family was hosting an event to announce the merger, and you stood in your bathroom, getting ready. You had opted for a baby blue dress that Satoru had picked for you when he had insisted on taking you shopping. He had winked and said you could wear his gaze this way. And you had only rolled your eyes at the time, but now it felt you could feel his eyes upon you.

“You look beautiful,” and you whirl around to find him standing in your doorway, a small smile on your lips, and you flush. It doesn’t go unnoticed, “is that all it takes to embarrass you now, Princess? I used to have to work a lot harder,”

You glare at him, “Shut up,” and your eyes flick to his untied tie, and it’s unspoken, as you walk over to tie his tie for him, “how did you even tie this the day of the formal if you don’t know how to?”

“I didn’t wear one,” he shrugs, his attention making you mess up the knot twice, “I only went to make you jealous anyway,”

Your fingers pause, as your eyes meet, “What?”

“I don’t want to play games anymore, Princess,” the back of his fingers brush against your cheek, “or at least, if I’m going to play, I’m going to play to win,” and you continue tying his tie, if only to distract yourself from your stomach doing flips, “do you know how it feels to want someone for so long only to end up married, but it’s not either of your choice?” And you swallow, not daring to look at him, “because I do.”

“Satoru,” your hands are shaking now, “I-“

“I don’t expect an answer, I don’t expect anything to change,” he adjusts his tie as you finish, turning his collar down, his blue button up matching your dress perfectly, “but I wanted you to know where I stood, and know wherever you are,” his gaze rakes over your form, the same color as the dress than clung to your skin, “I’ll always be here for you,”

“Satoru—“ but he gets a call — as always with impeccable timing, his parents were asking when they would be arriving. He hangs up shortly after, offering his arm with a smile.

“Shall we?” And you take his arm, ignoring the flip your heart does when his arm curls around yours.

The drive over is uneventful, but not the same can be said for the event itself. The merger event was being held at Satoru’s childhood home — the home Satoru had grown up in and around — and never wanted to be at.

“Are you okay?” you ask, your arm still curled around Satoru’s arm, as you glance at him, his shoulders tense and lips tight, before your concern makes the tension melt away a moment, rolling off his shoulders like snow on a spring day.

“I’m fine,” and you’re unconvinced, “just this place is like time has stood still,” he chuckles, his eyes finding the place where the two of you had cracked the chandelier fucking around with a ball inside, “look, still there,”

You snort, “I’m surprised your mother never noticed,”

“She did, she gave me hell for it,” he sips his drink, “I just didn’t tell you,”

“Why?”

“There was a lot I didn’t tell you,” his eyes snap to yours, his pain almost too visceral as he glances around the room he had grown up in — and you could feel him in this room, the ghost of his past roaming the halls, “why do you think I spent so much time at your house?”

“Because of my incredible company?” you half-joke, lips forced into a small smile, but he laughs, rolling his eyes.

“That too,” he hums, his fingers tracing up and down against your wrist sending a wave of heat down your spine.

“Well, you always have an escape now, don’t you?” you intertwine your fingers, “our home is always graced with the presence of your wife,”

He grins, the first actual smile you had seen all evening, “How lucky for you that it’s also graced with the presence of your incredibly handsome husband,”

And you open your mouth to respond, before Satoru’s father interrupts, his hand on Satoru’s shoulder, making him stiffen, “Son,” and his icy blue eyes slide to you, “and my daughter, would you mind if I steal my son for a moment?” it always struck you how different his eyes were from Satoru — the coldness as opposed to the warmth.

You glance at Satoru, and he gives a slight nod, “No, of course not,” you step away, as he pulls Satoru into a side room, and you linger nearby for him, mingling as best you can, when Satoru emerges, eyes downcast and fists clenched, “Satoru-“

“I’m okay,” he plasters on an easy smile, “it’s fine—“

“We’re leaving,” you grab his hand, “let’s go,” and he’s staring at you, as you drag him from the party, wordless.

“But your parents, my parents—”

“Have done enough for us already,” you say, and the two of you walk to the car in silence, “I can drive—”

“It’s ok, I got it,” and you both shut the doors, as he begins to drive. The ride home is quiet, and you glance at him here and there, but you hold your tongue, “you’re not going to ask?”

“It’s your dad - do I need to ask?” You scoff, “It may has been years but I know he’s nothing but a bully — especially to you,”

You may have been young, but you remembered the phone calls Satoru would get, the lectures about his potential and responsibilities as the next heir, the scoldings he’d get for anything less than perfect. And you remembered the look he had the next day — the same one he had when he had come out of that room.

And you couldn’t protect him then, but you could do it now.

He sighs as he pulls the car into the driveway, “You don’t deserve that, Toru,”

“Then what do I deserve?” And he meets your gaze with glassy eyes, and you give a small smile, your fingers reaching for him, brushing along his jaw.

“Love,” and you lean across the gap of the console, across the line you had drawn, across the misunderstandings you had, and you chose him. Your fingers cup his cheek, drawing him close, as you hear his breathe hitch, “can I—”

“You don’t need to ask me even once, Princess,” and you kiss him, your lips grazing his again and again, until your lips finally slide against each other, deepening it as he presses himself against you, hand bearing against the armrest between the two of you. And you can taste the sweet taste of the strawberry dessert that he all but inhaled at the party, the hint of the soda he drank instead of wine, and something that tasted utterly and perfectly of him.

“Toru,” you murmur, but his lips keep finding yours, and you can’t breathe much less think, “I—”

He silences you with another kiss, his fingers finding purchase on the back of your neck as he tugs you impossibly closer, before his lips are tracing a path down your jaw.

“What was that, sweetheart?” he smiles against your skin, “you what?”

“You’re insufferable, you’re endlessly frustrating, and I swear I want to murder you at least twice a day,” and he smiles, as you gasp as his teeth graze your pulse, “but you’re also my best friend, and I—“ you make him meet your eyes, fingers cupping his chin, ocean blue eyes drowning you with their gaze, “I love you,”

And he blinks ever so slowly, before his lips curl into the most beautiful smile you had seen, before he’s kissing you again, as you gasp, “Toru—”

“I’m never going to stop now, Princess,” he grins endlessly, as he presses his forehead to yours, dragging a thumb down your kiss ruined lips, “waited too long for you, but I’d wait a million years to do that again,”

“So should I make you wait?” you tease, and he’s looking like a kicked puppy, pouting and wide eyed, before he’s pressing butterfly kisses to your face, and you’re laughing, “I’m just kidding, baby—”

And he pauses, “‘Baby?’” and his grin is a million watt, as he kisses you again, “never thought I’d see the day you’d call me a pet name,”

Your noses brush as you both laugh, “Well, you are a big baby,” and he pouts again, and you kiss them, “but you’re my baby,”

And you barely remember how you manage to stumble into your home. Frantic touches and hurried kisses and fumbling keys. As soon as the door slams shut, he has you pressed against it, fingers busy with undoing your buttons, as he grins against your mouth.

“Know how long I wanted you? How long I dreamt of this?” he bites your bottom lip, “had to call you my wife before i could call you mine — thought about you dating Suguru, about all the times I wanted to lean over during our movie nights as kids and just kiss you — and how much I regretted it,”

“So you admit you’ve been pining for me,” you gasp as his teeth drag against your neck now, biting and sucking, as your fingers thread through his white locks, “Satoru,” you moan, biting your lip.

“Judging by that moan, I’m not the only one,” he smiles cheekily, his hands sliding down your back to rest at the back of your thighs, large palms and thick fingers pressing through the all too thin tulle of your dress, “can’t wait to see how fuckin’ wet you are for me, Princess.”

You gasp at his vulgar words, a rush of heat that leaves your legs shaking under his touch, “Now whose mind is the gutter?” You tease, your fingers tugging at his tie, unfurling the knot.

“Always has been when it’s come to you, want to make this perfect princess filthy,” he coos, and he’s pulling you up against the door, your hands wrapped around his neck, “wanna make my beautiful little wife scream my name, don’t I?”

“Toru—“ you gasp as his teeth graze along your chest, tugging the neckline of your dress impossibly low, “you’re going to rip it—“ and he does, pulling the fabric apart with ease, “what the fu—“ and he’s swallowing your swears with his tongue.

“I’ll buy you another,” he grins, “in fact I’ll buy you any amount you want, as long as you keep letting me do this,”

And he’s peeling the dress off of you, dress falling to the floor in a shamble of tulle, and your skin flushes at the air hitting your bare skin, and shivers at the feeling of his sharp breath against your neck.

“How are you so fucking perfect?” he sighs, burying his face in the nape of your neck, pressing butterfly kisses down your collarbone, “I should get an award for patience — not being able to touch you, to kiss you, but living with you?”

His fingers are skimming down your underwear now, snapping the waistband against your skin, you gasp, “Fuck, Toru,” you whimper, “thought you’d talk less during this,” your fingers are undoing his shirt now.

“Oh I can think of a few things that could shut me up,” his lips curl deviously, and you’re slipping his shirt off his shoulders, your lips pressing to his collarbone.

“I don’t think you’d even shut up from that,” as he shivers when your teeth graze his soft skin, “I think you’ll only whine more,”

And his gaze is hot as his eyes meet yours again, as he grasps at your thighs and picks you up, “let’s see who’s the one whining at the end of this,” you squeal, grasping into his shoulders, as he carries you into his bedroom, as he settles you down on his bed. His eyes raking over you, panting and disheveled, he drags his thumb down your bottom lip, “can’t believe you’re all mine, Princess,”

“Satoru,” you’re reaching for him, but he pins your hand to the bed, “wha—“

“Patience, baby,” he purrs, as he presses his lips to your wrist, “let me enjoy you,”

He’s so pretty it’s unfair - the way his breath hits your skin steals yours, pretty pink lips parted as he runs his tongue over them, the same ache between your legs longing for that tongue between them. But it leaves you with so little of the patience he asks you to have — especially after over a decade of this in the making.

And your impatience is evident, you suppose, by the pout on your lips, and he laughs, “Want a kiss, baby?”

You don’t have the time to say you want much more than a kiss, as he humors you with a kiss, lips teasing you with their sweet taste, and you don’t fail to notice his smile as you lean up into his touch. And suddenly his hands brush down your bare sides, squeezing your hips, and you’re gasping, “Feel good, Princess? We’ve barely started—“

“You keep teasing me and I’ll make you regret it,” you grumble, between breathless kisses, the bite of your words dampened by the soft pants that leave your lips, “Toru, I swear—“

And his thumb presses against the wet patch on your underwear, flimsy layer of soaked fabric barely doing a thing to hide your arousal, “Not acting like a good little girl for me,” he tuts, as you keen against his touch, gasping as you throw your head back as he grinds his fingers against your puffy clit, “all it took was one touch to have you so pliant, huh? Should’ve done this a long time ago,”

“Stop,” you whine, and his grin only grows larger with such self satisfaction, you don’t know if your lust addled brain wants you to strangle his neck or his cock, “please, just—“

“Just what?” And his fingers are breaching past your underwear, just barely touching the outer lips of your cunt, “come on, Princess, use your big girl words, or are you already fucked stupid before I’ve barely touched you?”

“Motherfuck—“

“I will be one once I get my needy little wife pregnant, won’t I?” And his long fingers finally tug down your underwear — the wet schlick of the sticky fabric hitting the floor make him drag his teeth over those beautiful lips, “but we got plenty of time for that, after all,” his fingers tease the outer lips of your throbbing pussy, “practice makes perfect,”

And he sinks a long finger knuckle deep — and a whine crawls its way out of your throat, his fingers were thicker than yours were — and so much better. His thumb teases your clit in tight circles as he begins to tease your walls, reaching deep, deep, deeper, your slick starting to drip onto his palm, “God, you’re soaking me, Princess,” and your hips can’t resist the urge to grind against his touch, “oh, and where’s that mouth now?” you can barely see much less talk, words failing as he begins to stretch you out - his other large palm rested against your thigh, keeping your legs nice and spread for him.

He’s grinning, he sinks another finger into you, teasing your walls apart, beginning to finger fuck you in earnest, “my mouthy girl just needed to be fucked right? Didn’t she?” And all you can hear are the filthy sounds of your cunt, as his fingers piston in and out, “nothing to say, Princess?” And he spanks your pussy, making you yelp, a whine leaving your throat, “and you thought I’d be whiny, look at you now, baby,” his fingers cup your chin to force your glassy eyes to meet his darkened blues, “such a good fucked out wife for me,”

And a third finger joining right as he brushed against a spot that had you seeing stars as his thumb bullied your clit, eyes rolling back as he did, and he’s grinning, “my perfect princess and her perfect little pussy,”

You came with his name on your lips, panting and shaking as he held you steady, his fingers dripping with your release, as he pulled away, watching your cunt twitch around nothing, aching for his fingers.

You're coming down from your high, chest rising and falling, as you watch him gather your release on his fingers, toying with your cunt, before he sucks them clean, “Fuck,” you whimper, as he licks and cleans himself of your cum, “Toru-“

“Fuck, baby, how’ve I resisted tasting you for so long?” And he’s bending down as he noses your thighs, making your hips jolt, still sensitive from your orgasm as he deeply inhaled, tip of his tongue darting out to lick your release from your thighs, “smell as sweet as you taste,” he hums, your legs trying to close, but his palms keep them spread, “can’t keep a man from his vices, can we baby?”

And his tongue teases your cum that pooled from your orgasm, the tip hot and wet as it tastes it, “tastes when better coming from this filthy princess cunt,” he grins against your thigh, teeth grazing your skin, making you lurch.

“T-Toru, please,” fuck you hated how needy you sounded, but you needed more — but he’s leaning away, pressing his cheek against the soft plush of your thigh.

“Need you to do something me first, sweetheart,” and his fingers are drawing teasing infinities on your thighs, “tell me how much you want me,”

“Fuck you,” you groan, “I know what you’re gonna say,” you add, cutting off his snappy retort of “I’m trying to,” “I want you, Satoru, please, I’ve wanted this for too long,” and your voice grows more teasing, “how long is my husband going to keep me waiting?”

And his eyes darken, the slight flush on his cheeks growing deeper, as his mouth presses a wet kiss to your sopping pussy, “good girl, think you deserve a reward,” and he’s manhandling your thighs, spreading them wide, as he buries his face in your cunt, “such a good little wife deserves to be eaten out,”

And eating is exactly what he does - you had only seen Satoru eat sweets with the same voracity he devoured you, pressing his thick fingers into your thighs as he splayed you out as his mouth pressed wet kisses to your dripping lips. His hot tongue drags up the length of your cunt, “best fucking thing I’ll ever taste, know what my last meal will be,” he’s murmuring against you, making you twitch, as he looks up at you with half lidded eyes and saliva and slick covered lips, “awww my pretty pussy begging to be filled? Well I can do that for you, baby,” and he’s burying his tongue in your messy hole.

The moan that leaves your lips leaves his cock harder and hurting, he didn’t know you could make such a lewd noise, and he couldn’t wait to make you make it again and again. He’s making out with your pussy at this mouth, your hips doing their best to grind against him, desperate for more, more, more.

And your fingers find his shoulders first, before sliding up to his hair, pressing him further against you, “you’re so fucking cute,” he murmurs, as he spreads your folds with his thumbs before tongue fucking you. His tongue teases and abuses your walls, deeper and deeper, before he pulls back to flick his tongue over your clit, making you moan even louder, “neighbors are gonna hear you at this rate, baby,” but he only sucks at your clit, harshly, “oh well, they know we’re newlyweds,” he’s humming as his ears hear your broken whines and pants, body tensed up against his.

And you’re so wet now, your slick drips down his jaw, mixed with his spit, “you’re all mine now, baby, can’t live without tasting you now—“ and he groans when your hips buck into his mouth again, feeling your walls twitch, “I know you’re close, Princess, tell me how good it feels,”

“S’good, Toru, I can’t—“ you’re pulling at his soft white locks now, making him grunt, and you fall apart, back arching as you cum as all you can hear are the squelching sounds of his tongue and mouth as he continues to eat you out through your orgasm.

And you’re twitching under him as he sucks up every bit of your cum, “so fucking good for me,” he’s finally pulling himself from your messy pussy, “can’t wait to feel you around me, should’ve known you have a little princess cunt,”

And he’s licking his lips and chin clean, as you watch him with half lidded eyes, still panting, as your eyes skim down his body, his jacket had been thrown aside at some point, but his now wrinkled shirt is only messily untucked from his dress pants, and disheveled was too good of a look on him, but you rather see those clothes on the floor of your bedroom, “you’re still annoyingly dressed,” you manage between breaths, still aching from his ministrations, “strip,”

He’s raising an eyebrow, a wicked grin on his lips, “So demanding for someone who was moaning my name a second ago,” but you pull yourself up, supporting yourself on a shaky arm while you use the other to tug on his tie, smashing his lips to yours.

You unfurl the very tie you tied, fingers flying to unbutton his shirt, “Made me feel so good, baby,” and now you were kneeling in front of him, your release slipping down your thighs, as you slipped his shirt off his shoulders, tossing it aside, heated eyes raking over his bare chest, tongue running over your lips, “only fair if I repay the favor,”

You’re undoing his belt for him, pulling it free from the loops, as your hand grazes his noticeable bulge in his suit pants, “surprised you haven’t ripped through,” you squeeze lightly, making his hips jerk, as he pouts all too cutely — and now you knew why he always teased you, “didn’t you tell me to have patience, love?”

“Your husband is running low on that at the moment, never been one to be patient, sweetheart,” he’s gritting his teeth, as you slip his pants off leaving him only in boxers.

Your eyes are glued to his erection, visible through the damp front of his boxers, wet with his precum, “so fuckin’ big, even better than I thought,” you say almost with reverence, and his lip quivers at the praise, a quiet groan leaving his throat. You raise an eyebrow, “like to be praised, baby boy?”

And he swallows, adam's apple bobbing, sweat on his forehead from his treatment of you, but a red flush deepens on his skin, “Princess,” it’s half a warning and half a plea—and morphs into a whimper as your fingers tease the head of his cock through his boxers, rubbing his precum into the fabric, “f-fuck, s’good with those hands, sweetheart,”

“Imagine how much better it’d be with your boxers out of the way,” you say leaning down and licking at the tip through the sticky fabric, as his head falls back with a soft moan, “can’t wait to feel this between my legs,” as you kiss the clothed tip, two fingers slipping in only to snap the waistband of the boxers against his skin, and he’s biting back a moan, a pout on his kiss ruined lips, “god, you’re so pretty,”

Another noise in the back of his throat, “Fuck, Princess,” he hissed, as you finally spare him, pulling his boxers off, his erection slapping against his too fucking incredible abs — how was he so unfairly perfect? He was so gorgeous — more long than girthy, but he was so thick still, and flushed red with pearly pre-cum at the tip. Each vein and curve felt as if he was made for you.

“All this for me, baby?” You tease, as his mouth opens and then closes as your fingers tease the head of his cock, a sharp inhale that keeps echoing in your ears, “all turned on from eating me out, huh?” You move close, nearly straddling him, but you don’t let your cunt brush against his cock — not yet.

And his dick twitches in your hand, “Sweetheart,” he whimpers, eyes nearly glassy with need, “such a fucking tease,”

And your lips curl, “Match made in heaven, baby,” you rub your thumb against his flushed tip, spreading the pre-cum along his shaft, “can’t wait to taste you, wonder if you taste as sweet as what you eat,” licking your lips, and he’s biting his lip, “tell me what you want, Toru,”

“Y’know what I want, Princess,” he’s panting as you lean forward to kiss him, lips sliding against his, just as your palm starts to stroke him, his moan is nearly pornographic, words spilling from his mouth, “want your pretty pussy around my cock, sweetheart, plesse,”

“Not so fast, baby,” you hum, your other hand moving to tease his balls, achingly full, judging by the gasp that left his throat, “wanna take my time with you, like you did with me, right?” And he breaks your kiss with a whine, “you feel so good in my hands, Toru, been thinking about this cock for too long,” and he’s grunting, lips parted as he pants, burying his face in your shoulder.

“How good?” he mumbles, and you’re grinning even wider — the great Satoru Gojo fell to pieces with only your touch and some praise, his face beautifully flushed as you tug him by the back of his hair, thumb running over his undercut as you do.

“So good that I wanna make you fall apart over and over until my name is the only thing on your lips,” you squeeze the base of his dick, making his hips jump, “gonna be a good boy for me and let me do it?”

And he’s nodding, utterly fucked out even before you’ve even started. And you guide him to the end of the bed, as you get on your knees for him, his gaze darkening as he watches you lean down to press your lips to the tip of his weeping erection, making him groan your name. And you trace his slit with the tip of your tongue, tasting his salty release, “How long you gonna tease me baby? I’m being so good for you,” he’s whining, his baby blues fluttering with lust as he looks down at you, choking as he sees how his precum paints your lips, “please, fuck, just—“

And you finally guide his cock into your mouth, and he’s jerking at the sensation and groaning as he watches your pretty little mouth take his length — those same smart lips that always had a reply for everything, the ones he’d jerked off to the thought of this very situation — you on your knees for him, the ones he’d wanted around him for so long — it was too much.

He almost blew his load all too fast, your warm mouth all too accommodating to his cock, as your wet walls and tongue swirl around him, tasting and sucking, your fingers grasping his thighs. And you bob up and down his length, the weight of his cock making the ache between your legs worse, and your eyes flicker up, and moan as you watch him.

He’s so fucking gorgeous — panting and so fucked out, as his lips part for you, your name leaving his kissed red lips, teeth baring down on his bottom lip, “Fuck, my little wife is so pretty on her knees,” as his hands settle on your head, watching you sink your mouth down on his cock, pleasure running up his spine, as his thick fingers dig into your scalp, “so nasty, baby, fuuuuck, gonna fuck your throat at this rate,” he groans, “how’d you get so good at this baby? Don’t answer that,” he adds, a growl in his words, and you almost giggle around his dick.

“Learned so I could blow you, husband, after all, this mouth is yours,” you grin, and his lips curl too and then they part as he grunts, as you press teasing kisses along his length before sliding it back into your mouth, beginning to let the tip hit the back of your throat. You gag on him, making him moan, as he helps you deepthroat him, his hips thrusting against you lightly, his white pubes brushing against your face.

And he’s moaning even louder, as he watches you, drool slipping down your chin as he fucks your mouth, tongue massaging him as he did, “Made just to fuck me, huh? Want my load that bad, Princess?” And his words have your eyes rolling back as he’s moving against you, his cock twitching telling you that he’s close, “shiiit, fuck, my wife’s a slut for me, gonna swallow my cum baby?”

“Only for you,” you pull away a moment, a string of spit connecting your lips to his dick, smiling, before you slip him back into your too eager mouth, and you hollow your cheeks, the lewd noises of your tongue and mouth sending him over the edge.

“Fuck, fuck, gonna cum, baby, can I cum in—“ and you make his tip brush your throat again as you suck, looking at him with half lidded, dilated eyes. And he spills into your mouth, hot cum down your throat, as he holds your head gently in place, “shit Princess,” his hips jumping at the sight of you, cum and spit slipping from the corner of your mouth as you pull his cock from you, “s’good for me,”

He’s still panting, as you climb into his lap properly, his cock sliding against your cunt, making his face twist in pleasure, as you lick your mouth clean of him, wiping your chin, “Taste so good, Toru,” you hum, his eyes half lidded with pleasure, chest still heaving, as he leans back on shaky arms, “you may be my favorite meal, but I think I rather,” you grind on his lap teasingly dragging his tip against your messy cunt, “have you cum inside me,”

And he gives a delicious gasp, “baby, too sensitive,” but you’re tilting his chin back as you meet his lips, both of you moaning as you taste yourselves on the other’s lips, “you’re gonna be the death of me, Princess,” he’s chuckling, as he starts to grab your thighs, putting you properly into his lap, “you gonna ride me like a good little princess? Fuck yourself on my cock?”

How does he have the upper hand when you’re the one on top?

As you feel yourself clench around nothing at his words, and he’s sliding your body back and forth, his cock slapping and sliding against your wrecked cunt, so close to sinking in. His hand bears down on your ass, slapping it, before his fingers squeeze it, making you jump against him, your chest brushing against his, “you like that huh?” he’s grinning, as he kisses you again, his lips sliding against you, swallowing your moans eagerly, “what do you want, baby? Remember to say please,” he adds, and you want to roll your eyes, but his fingers rub your clit, and any protest you had fled your mind.

“Please,” and you’re using your fingers to part yourself above him, making his eyes roll back, as you grasp his cock, teasing your dripping cunt with the head of his dick, “fuck me,”

And you sink onto him, inch by inch, as your head looks back, your walls squeezing as he parted your folds, “You’re drenching me, sweetheart, fucking perfect princess cunt is gonna wring me dry,” he grunts, as his fingers splay over your hips, grasping but not pushing, letting you go at your pace, “s’good, might just have to fill you up, again and again,” and your pussy twitches at that thought drawing a laugh from him lips, “you want that? My wife wants to be full of my cum,” he’s groaning when you finally fit all of his cock in you, cunt clamping down on him, “trying to break my cock? Don’t have to go that far to keep me, I’m living in this sweet cunt from now on,”

You’re a mess — whining and moaning, your chest bouncing as you begin to move against him, “Toru, so full, s’good,” his own hips jumping against yours, a low growl in his throat, as his hands begin to guide your hips, snapping his own hips as he fucks you onto his own cock, reaching new depths, as your eyes squeeze shut, “fuckfuckfuuuck, Toru,” you’re babbling and moaning his name, again and again — and he just needs more.

And he’s spanking you, hands coming down on your ass, as he grunts, your warm walls twitching and squeezing him, brushing against sweet spots that have both of you groaning, “such a fucking good girl, taking my cock — I know you can take more, baby, my perfect wife,” and he’s capturing your nipple in his mouth, teeth grazing it before he sucks, his hips growing even faster, until his cock finds your special spot.

“Toru, g’nna cum, I—“ And your orgasm hits you, head thrown back as your lips part in a silent scream, toes curling as you wrap your legs around his waist, and he’s fucking you right through — fucking relentless, almost limitless, with his pace, groaning as he watches his the base of his cock covered in your release, a pool of white that almost has him cumming then and there.

“S’ fuckinh pretty, Princess, and all mine,” he says, as you moan, as he slows his pace, your face buried in his shoulder, as you come down from your high, and he’s tilting your head.

But he isn’t done yet.

In a moment, he’s pulling his cock out — a whine parting your mouth — as he manhandles you so that you’re flat on your back, your ankles thrown over his shoulders, and spread wide for him. You’re the picture of filth — lips in a kiss ruined pout, chest rising and falling as you gaze up at him with needy eyes, and your perfect cunt leaking and drenched for him — he could see everything — all of you, the way your cum slid down your hole, the way it clenched around nothing, the pretty pink insides he was desperate to make his.

He licks his lips, “soaking my lap and sheets with your cum, baby, such a dirty girl,” and he’s spreading your lips, letting your release trickle out.

“Satoru,” you whine as he runs a finger over your still twitching pussy, as if begging for his cock back, “please, too sensitive,”

“Please what, sweetheart? Because your cunt seems to disagree,” his chuckle is a deep noise that reverberates through his chest as he leans down to press your lips to yours in a languid kiss, “such a nerdy princess, imagine how’d your family would feel — seeing you beg for my cock, huh? Not the chaste little princess anymore? Nah, you’re my filthy baby,” and you’re whimpering, “tell me baby, I know you’re not nearly fucked dumb yet, you’re too smart for that,” he coos, a grin on his lips as he stares with that damn crystalline gaze.

And finally he’s sinking into you again, cock sliding back into your soaked cunt, “God, I love you,” he murmurs, as he’s somehow deeper inside you, pussy pressed against all of him, “so fucking perfect, baby, better than I imagined,” he’s pussydrunk now as he rails into you, and you’re grasping at him, the only sound in your ears is the squelch of him as he filled you again and again as his chest presses against yours, fucking you long and hard, “you’re all mine now, baby. My wife, my body, my love, my soul — all of it,” he growls his last words, grunting as his hips begin to stutter as he kisses your sweet spot again and again, “you want me to cum in this sweet princess pussy, baby? Wanna make me a daddy?”

Your cunt twitches at that, and he laughs, “did you just get wetter, baby? Didn’t think you could do that,”

But you’re only moaning, you’re so fuckin’ close but you want him to cum with you - wanna feel him sink into as he does. And so you’re meeting his lips in a searing kiss, his hips thrusting harder and longer, “give me your baby, Toru, breed me,” you whisper, words slurring as you pant and stutter, all sense had left your mind - and all you wanted was him.

“Fuck, Princess,” he’s grunting as he pistons in and out of you, bed groaning under his thrusts, until your walls clamp down again and again on him as you cum, throbbing and needy as you moan his name, back arching, “g’nna cum,”

And he does, his cock hitting the deepest part of you as he does, his warm seed filling you up, as his hips continue to fuck it deeper into you, making you whimper, as he just keeps on cumming ropes, “oh, f-fuck, Princess,” he rasps as he kisses you, sloppy and wet, as he pants, watching your face come down him your high, eyelashes fluttering as you look up at him, “so beautiful,” he murmurs, as he rubs his thumb down your lips.

He pulls out slowly, groaning as he watches your mixed releases leak out of you, dragging the tip of his weeping erection down your cunt, a whine leaving your throat again, “So fucking filthy, baby,” he hums, a shiteating grin on his lips, as he collects his cum on his fingers, and pushes it back inside of you, as you jump, a small pout on your lips making him laugh, “gotta make good on my promise, baby,” and he’s kissing you silly again, “gotta get you pregnant and full for me,”

His body is sticky with sweat, as he eases your aching legs down, as he kisses up your body, nosing your neck, “So perfect for me, Princess, I love you,” he says so earnestly that it makes you melt, as you pull him into a kiss, “suppose we consummated our marriage now, does this mean we get to have a honeymoon now?” he’s grinning, as you roll your eyes, “come on, don’t you want to travel?”

And you laugh, “I don’t think we would even leave the hotel room if you had your way,” and he’s pressing his thumb against your bottom lip and dragging down, before kissing you, sliding his tongue into your mouth to taste you.

“Would that be such a bad thing?” And your breath catches a moment, before you sigh, and he grins again, “so?”

You roll over to grab your phone, kissing his lips, pulling up possible destinations, “where are we going?”

“Satoru, we’re at the office, uhmph—“ Satoru’s kissing you even before the elevator doors shut, and you can’t help but not care if anyone saw either of you making out, his talented tongue stealing your logic from under you, before he’s pulling away, your lipstick nearly smeared all over his face. You bite back a laugh, before using your thumb to wipe away the evidence of your kiss, “we’ve been here less than a minute, and you’re already making a mess,”

And his lips catch your thumb between them, kissing it sweetly, “What do I do better than make a mess of you, princess?” and he’s pressing sweet kisses to your fingertips, before you’re pulling him back for another kiss, right before you hear the elevator ding, and you scramble apart.

Your cheeks flushed, as you stepped onto the floor of the newly merged company that was formerly your families’ individual companies, now united as one — just as you and Satoru were now — which was why he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off of you. The two of you had come into the office to finalize the transition for your staff, each of you dealing with formalities on either side, but Satoru did little to help your focus on the process with his blatant stares and sneaky touches.

Twice already he had pulled you into his office, only to have you either pressed against his door, or bent over his desk. And god, you sat in your office, biting your lip as you thought about paying him another visit — and fuck, this is what he wanted.

You pull your phone out and text him: You suck.

And his reply is instant. If I recall from last night, you’re the one who sucks ;)

You’ve left me high and dry, Satoru, and I shouldn’t be thinking about fucking you in the office. Especially with both of our parents around in meetings all day.

He replies, Nah, that’s exactly why you should be thinking about it.

And then another text.

Imagine our parents walking in while you’re under my desk doing what you do best, you’d be quiet for me, Princess? Wouldn’t let us get caught when I fuck your pretty mouth?

You’re biting your lip — Fucker, I hate you.

Nah, you love me, a little too much, Princess. Another text — especially the way you were moaning my name last night.

And there’s a knock at your door in that moment — “Come in,” you intone, and you were ninety-nine percent sure that was Satoru — ready to make good on his promise — and then white hair visible as the door swings open, “Father,”

It was a Gojo, but not the one you expected — your father in law, instead of his son.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” he says, lips curling in a smile that was all too the same as his son — but missing the same charm, the distinct softness that made you adore Satoru was not present in his father — nor was his father very present at all — except to chastise his son on how he thought his son should live his life.

And he was interrupting — interrupting you about to sext his son and your husband from the confines of your office, but you only offered a smile, “Not at all, can I help you with something, Father?”

He’s shutting the door behind him, before taking a seat across from you, “I just wanted to have a chat with you — it’s been so long since we’ve been able to see the two of you — we still haven’t had you over since you’ve returned from your honeymoon,”

“It’s been very busy,” and it had been, but not too busy to see Satoru’s family. Since the launch party, you and Satoru had agreed to steer clear of his father for some time, until Satoru could develop some more healthy boundaries with him. And so you could get through a conversation without strangling him (although Satoru wasn’t opposed to seeing that), “with the merger and Satoru and I trying to spend time to get know each other again,”

“Of course,” but his smile told you he was unconvinced, “I wanted to talk to you about something important, I’ve seen how close you and Satoru have gotten since the engagement and the wedding, and I was happy to see you pushing him in the right direction,”

“”Pushing him?’” you repeat, raising an eyebrow.

“With the merger, I haven’t seen him so focused, so determined, and I knew my suggestion to my wife to have you marry him was the right choice,” and you stare at him, mouth agape, as anger slowly melts from your stomach into every vein of his body, fingers curling into fists.

“Excuse me?”

He leans back in his chair, “When the idea of the merger was floated by me, I knew I wanted a condition to be your marriage to Satoru,” his eyes glance over the things on your desk — the stacked folders, the paperwork, and the pictures of your family and of Satoru, “you’re driven, you’re focused, you’re perfect — I knew you could change him, and I was right,” his lips curl, and you can’t hold your tongue anymore.

“Maybe what your son needed was someone to support him,” your words are even, but your body is tense, “he needed someone not to scold him, to put him down, to whisper doubts in his ear when he needed help,” you rise from your chair slowly, “I respect you as my father-in-law and as my family’s old friend and co-owner of this company, but,” you glare at him, “no one insults my husband’s capabilities, and makes me takes credit for his achievements,”

The old man’s teeth grit, and he opens to respond, when there’s a curt knock at the door, and Satoru enters, “Old man, how about you go chat with the other old farts in the room? Pretty sure you’re bleeding investors by the second the longer you talk with my wife,” he slides a small smile to you that tells you he heard everything.

Satoru’s father shoots a glare at both of you, before leaving the room in a huff, door shutting behind him, and you sigh, rubbing your temples, “I’m sorry if I made things worse—”

And he’s pulling you into a hug, arms snaking around your waist and pulling you against him, “Thank you, Princess,” he murmurs into your ear, making you tense, “oh you like that, huh?” and you roll your eyes, laughing.

“Even in a moment like this, huh?” you lean up and whisper in his ear, “I don’t just like it, I love it,” and it’s his turn to shiver, his cheeks burning, “you’re so cute,” you grin, before leaning up and kissing him. He melts into the kiss, his fingers cupping your cheek to deepen the kiss, pulling your waist against his, and you feel his arousal pressed against your thigh.

You pull away, tilting your head, you snort, “Already?”

And he bites his lip, “Take some responsibility, baby, it’s your fault,” and he leans down and grazes your ear with his teeth, “not my fault my hot wife defended my honor and then decided to whisper sweet nothings in my ear,”

You hum, guiding his lips to yours, your teeth graze over his bottom lip, “And how should I take responsibility, baby?” and he shudders, crystalline eyes glazed over with lust, “we’re in the office, not very professional,” his fingers unbutton your blouse, so he can lean down and kiss your collarbone.

“I was never very professional to begin with,” he smirks, his teeth grazing over the soft skin, sucking and biting, making you gasp, “don’t be so loud, someone will hear us, what will they think?” he murmurs, with a grin against your skin, as he continues to undo your blouse, as he turns you around so your back is against your chest, he tilts your head to look at your door, “look it’s unlocked, anyone could walk in,” and his fingers sneak down the front of your skirt, fingers teasing your panties, “fuuuck, princess, you’re soaked through — are you more turned on by the idea of getting caught?” and you whimper, only making him grin wickedly against your neck, “my filthy girl, imagine your father walking in, seeing your husband’s fingers down your skirt, legs spread wide like a slut,”

“Satoru,” you’re biting your lip so hard that you wouldn’t be surprised it would bleed, your knees buckling, as his fingers part your dripping folds, “we can’t—”

“We can,” he shushes you, guiding your lips to his, fingers cupping your throat, but he leans back to get confirmation that you were okay, and you lean in again to kiss him, “such a good girl,” You whimper, and he laughs, “gotta break in the new office don’t we?”

And his fingers slip your panties aside, two fingers parting your folds, and you gasp, as he stuffs two fingers into your mouth as well, “Not so loud, Princess, can’t give the office gossip mill something really juicy, now can we?” And his digits start to really fuck you, in and out, the wet squelch ringing in your ears, as his fingers bully and stretch your walls, until they find what they are looking for — your g-spot.

You fall apart, but it’s gushing all over his hand, soaking his hand, as your hand grasps at the fingers in his mouth trying to stifle your noises, “Fuck, Princess, did you just squirt for me?” He’s grinning, “such a sloppy little Princess, look you’re staining the carpet with your cum,” he guides your head to look, seeing the spot on the carpet, as you lean against him, “gotta do this again,”

He kisses you as you moan. Tangled limbs and eager touches, as you guide him over to the desk, as you settle him into the chair, lips still parting as your tongue slips in, “Your turn,” and before he can even react, you’re slipping down to your knees, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants, slipping his aching dick out, nearly slapping your face with it, you drag it along your lips, “Like you said, I’m the one who sucks right?” you wink, before you finally lick the length of his cock, tracing the veins to the slit, “you always taste so good, Toru,” and he’s hissing now.

“Fuck, baby, you always so pretty on your knees for me,” and you have to disagree — he’s the one who looks pretty — shirt disheveled, chest rising and falling far too fast, as he looked down at you with his snowy white eyelashes half lidded with a lust ridden gaze — “your pretty mouth is s’fucking perfect, can’t wait to cum down that lovely throat,” he hisses, as his fingers dig into your scalp, urging his cock deeper, his tip brushing against your throat, making you gag.

He opens his mouth to apologize, but you only shake your head, as you do it again, making his hips buck against you, tip hitting your throat again, his composure quickly falling to shreds, as he’s fucking your throat now, biting his lip so hard to keep his groans in, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was bleeding afterwards.

“I-I’m close,” he’s gritting his teeth, but you only redouble your efforts, “so fuckin’ perfect, made to suck this dick—”

And that’s when there’s a knock on the door, making you both freeze. You panic silently — before Satoru is shepherding you under your desk, while he adjusts himself, scooting your chair in more, so his weeping cock is hidden along with you.

“Come in,” Satoru says, as even toned as someone who was just fucking their wife’s throat can manage, “Dad—what a nice surprise,”

And you cover your mouth — fuck it was your dad — Satoru called his dad, “old man” — what the fuck.

“I should be saying that to you son,” you bite your lip, listening to their conversation, “where’s my daughter? And why are you in her office?” and you covered your mouth, shit — you were hiding under your own desk, while Satoru sat in your chair.

Shit, shit, shit.

“I was just waiting for her to come back with lunch,” he manages, and you can almost see the dependable smile on his lips, “she volunteered to get us lunch and she told me to wait here so we could eat together,”

Your father was seemingly convinced after that, but to both of your dismay, sat down to speak with Satoru about business matters. You crouched, utterly bored as you listened to them talk, his erection beginning to wane, and you got an idea in your pretty little head — you grinned — well, Satoru should be careful what he wishes for, or he might just get you blowing him in front of your father.

You start slow — teasing the head with a brush of your fingers, easily could have been an accident, but it nearly makes him jump, as he gives a warning nudge with his foot gently. But then your hand begins to rub him in earnest, fingers using your spit as lube, as you heard your husband stammer over his words to your father. But it was nothing compared to when you closed your mouth over his cock, and began to deepthroat him again.

“Satoru, are you okay?’ you hear your father ask, as you discreetly suck your husband’s cock under his desk, and you can only imagine the delightful shade of red your Toru is turning.

“Sorry, I’m not feeling like myself,” he mumbles, as he grits his teeth in an attempt not to moan, and you can feel his thighs tense as he forces himself not to fuck your mouth as he wants to right now. He’s so close — as much as you like the idea of getting caught, you think Satoru likes it as much or maybe even more — his cock is twitching in your mouth as you suck and swirl your tongue around it, as your fingers dig into your thighs, “I apologize, I’m getting a call. Could you excuse me?”

And your father is oblivious, and excuses himself from the room, door shutting behind him, and Satoru groans, “Fuck, princess, you almost made me cum in front of your dad in this nasty fucking mouth,” and you suck harder, fingers fondling his balls, as his fingers find your locks again, and his hips jerk into your mouth, his white pubes tickling your nose, “thaaat’s it, fuck, so fuckin’ good, i’m close, sweetheart,” he groans, “you want me to cum—“ and you bury his cock deeper into your mouth as an answer, your hands pumping what you couldn’t fit, until he cums down your throat.

You meet his half lidded gaze, swallowing his cum, as you ease off his cock, a mix of cum and saliva connected your lips, “You taste so good,” you lick your lips, as you push the chair a little back and climb out, as you tug his boxers and pants back up, tucking his cock back in, “my favorite treat,”

He smiles, chest still rising and falling fast, “I love you, princess,” so genuinely as he pulls you into a deep kiss.

You giggle, humming against his lips, “So heartfelt after getting your soul sucked out of your dick,” you glance at the door, “do you think anyone heard us?”

He shrugs, as he pulls you into his lap, “I hope they did,” he grins against your neck, as you roll your eyes.

“You’re terrible,” and his lips curl.

“And you love me,” you kiss those same lips you would each day.

“I do.”

~~~~

“What do you wanna do today?” Satoru asks, your legs thrown over his lap, as you read a book you had picked up the other day out on a date with him, and he eats the kikufuku he had insisted on picking up the same day.

“Hmm, I have some ideas,” you hum, hiding your smile with a book, and you don’t need to see his face to know he’s grinning.

“And what’s that, Princess?” he leans forward, plucking the book from your fingers, as you tut at his sugar covered fingers, “shouldn’t you share your feelings with your husband?” And his lips brush against your neck, nose brushing against the soft skin of your nape, inhaling your scent.

“Well I have a surprise for you,” you weren’t planning on giving it to him now, but you pulled a wrapped box from behind the couch cushions, “should I make you wait?”

He’s reaching for the box already, as you laugh, and he’s snatching it from your fingers before you can tease him, “can I open it?” He was so eager, as always.

“Go ahead, baby,” you bite your lip, a small smile on your lips.

He lifts the lid of the wrapped box off, and the first thing his eyes flit across is the word “positive.”

His mouth parts, as he stares at the pregnancy test carefully nestled into the box, “is this—“ his cerulean eyes meet yours, a soft gaze with wonder, “are we—“

“We’re having a baby, Toru,” you nod, and he’s sweeping you into his arms, as you squeak, his body sweeping you up in his, as he buries his face in your neck, “Toru—“

“Is this real?” He murmurs, into your skin, all soft words and soft kisses, “I feel like I’m dreaming,”

“Well I am your dream girl, so maybe don’t be surprised when I pinch you and you wake up,” you pinch his cheek lightly, making his pale skin cutely flushed, pink dusting his cheeks, “no dream here, all real — so I guess you’re just lucky,”

“The luckiest,” he hums, a quiet noise that soothes you, “a beautiful wife, and now,” his fingers graze over your stomach, before lifting the hem of your shirt, to press his lips to it, “and now we’re going to be a family,”

Your lips curl, tilting his chin up so his watery gaze meets your own, thumb rubbing the length of his cheek, “We already were a family,

He raises his eyebrows in mock surprise, “I thought we were mortal enemies,” and you laugh, before shrugging.

“That too,” and he pulls you into his lap, smiling, “but you’re actually pretty cute,”

He gasps mockingly, “Princess, do you have a crush on me? A mere commoner?”

You roll your eyes, pressing a languid kiss to his lips, tasting the lingering sweetness of the kikufuku, “I hate you,” you say, when he knows you mean quite the opposite.

And he only smiles the same way he always did — and the same way he always would — “love you too, Princess."

✩ a/n: so this was also inspired by a character AI made by @/fairybaby that has been living in my mind rent free for far too long. thank you to @/laneymusings for being the best emotional support from writing to formatting to everything in between

✩ tag list: @ryliobrow, @getosho3cakes, @delaneyyyy, @soukokufan, @purplscnerie, @solarlunarsstuff, @growingupnrealizing, @forest-fruits-jam, @achipstea1ingseagull, @fruitscall, @starplasma-cujoh, @crashing-a-jeep, @mwah-chia, @vorschlaghannah, @xrysakts, @emonaculate

#satoru gojo #gojo satoru #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo fanfiction #satoru gojo smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #sab [mlist]#gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #jjk au

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angelwonie · 1 year

Text

X + Y = YOU AND I || jeon wonwoo

PAIRING: academic rival!wonwoo x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 8.6k

GENRE(S): smut, fluff, rivals to lovers, college au

SUMMARY: you wish jeon wonwoo would sometimes act like an insufferable prick instead of the perfect guy, because then you wouldn't have to feel your head spinning each time he looks at you.

WARNINGS: SMUT [unprotected sex, fingering, use of petnames (baby, good girl), praise, some degradation, sex in an empty classroom] wonwoo is so in love

Class discussions where both Wonwoo and you are involved never end well.

Partly, it’s because none of you possess the ability of backing down from a fight, but mostly it’s because of Wonwoo’s annoying tendencies of having read all the books in the world, which allows him to criticize every word that comes out of your mouth.

Which again leaves you with no choice but to get angry and argue even more vividly — though Soonyoung claims that’s just your own stubbornness making matters worse.

He doesn’t get it, though. The desire to beat Wonwoo at his own game each time he opens his mouth. It’s something you can’t entirely explain, but it keeps you grounded, and so you don’t question it too much. The adrenaline that comes along with it is enough for you.

And that’s exactly what keeps you going today — Wonwoo’s annoying takes on social anthropology.

“I just don’t think cultural differences are the root of conflicts.”

He says this and shrugs, eyes subconsciously drifting to the side to look at you. As expected, you’re already raising your hand to comment on his statement and he has to fight the urge to smile. Despite coming in tired, eyes drooping, you’re eager to partake in a discussion with him. Always. It’s a little too reassuring to think about, so he stops, and instead focuses on what you’re saying.

“That’s a baseless claim to make,” you scoff, and again, he feels his lip twitch, almost forming a smile. “Of course they are. No differences means nothing to fight about.”

“Yes, in theory,” he says, and his eyes crinkle with the smile he offers you. A smile you can’t seem to tell if is cocky or genuine. “But cultural differences aren't everything. If we don’t have culture, people will still form opinions. And those opinions will still become the roots of conflicts.”

With those words, he crosses his arms over his chest, his elbow bumping into you.

You’re not sure who came up with the idea of the two of you sitting together in the classroom, but moments like these make you want to find that person and rip their hair out. Because in what universe should you have to argue with Jeon Wonwoo while his shoulder is literally touching yours?

It’s stupid, unethical, and every other derogatory term you can come up with, but most of all, it’s making it hard to focus. Obviously, it’s not about him, it’s about the closeness itself. You think. Probably.

You lean a bit to your left so you can actually think of a response, but end up sighing and asking a question instead.

“So you’re saying conflicts are inevitable?”

He tongues his cheek – a sign that he’s in deep thought – and bumps his elbow into you again. An accident, probably, but it catches your attention nevertheless.

“I’m saying disagreements become conflicts because we can’t handle our emotions. It’s not differences that are the problem, it’s our way of handling them.”

And there it is — that twinkle in his eyes that signalizes he knows he’s won. You know it, too, from the way he leans back into his chair and your words die down in your throat and the professor nods his head approvingly. Still, you wish he wouldn’t be so fucking happy about it.

“Asshole,” you mumble only loud enough for him to hear as you sink back into the chair.

He chuckles and you feel your insides turn. God, he’s annoying. Super annoying.

Especially when he leans a bit to your side of the desk, face a lot closer to yours than it needs to be when he whispers, “Good job.”

You glare at his soft expression, your own face heating up in something resembling embarrassment.

“No need to gloat about your success, dickhead.”

“I’m not gloating,” he frowns, the smile slowly fading from his face.

“Sure you aren’t. You’re just kindly reminding me that you’re better than me.”

“That’s not what– That’s not true.”

His voice falters, and he leans back in his chair and taps his pen against the desk. You scoff at him, but it’s nowhere as threatening as you’d like it to be — thrown off by the quiver in his tone.

“It is true,” you whisper, more to yourself, and avert your gaze from him.

The professor picks up where he left off, and you let your thoughts scatter and eyes drift closed. It’s been a long day, you think. Thankfully, the professor’s got you and Wonwoo placed in the back, and so he doesn’t notice it when you manage to fall asleep in your chair, head falling to the side.

Wonwoo notices, though. Your cheek squished against your shoulder, hair in your face. It’s not the first time you’ve fallen asleep in class, and he should probably start scolding you for it, but seeing your under eye bags and hearing your tired voice makes something turn unpleasantly in his stomach. And so he lets you sleep.

(It’s all because of his perceptiveness.

You know about this trait of his, and it’s awful. How he hands you a pen when you’ve forgotten your own without you having to ask for it. How he knows when to shut up during an argument, because your face tells him he’s won. How he never feels the need to embarrass you, or anyone, for that matter.

He’s a good person in and out, and you hate him for it.)

It’s not before the class is nearing its end that Wonwoo decides to wake you.

“Y/N,” you feel a hand on your shoulder, shaking you awake, and then a deep voice hits your ears. Wonwoo’s voice, you realize instantly, and then criticize your heart for jumping at the thought. “You might wanna wake up for this.”

“Huh?”

Wonwoo’s smiling at you softly, and you sit up straight, confused. At least until you see your professor clutching his phone against his ear, muttering aggressively.

“His wife called,” Wonwoo explains in a hushed tone, leaning towards you so you hear him better. “I feel kinda bad for the guy. She doesn’t seem to like him very much.”

You rub your eyes and yawn, then realize Wonwoo is sitting right there, and clear your throat.

“Maybe he’s an asshole.”

“Maybe,” he turns to look at you. “Girls like assholes, though, don’t they?

Your breath hitches in your throat involuntarily. You’re not sure whether it’s from the question or from the way he’s looking at you – like he’s already got you all figured out – but it’s making you nervous. All of it, him. And now that you’re discussing a topic you’re not certain about, it shows.

You chuckle nervously, “Where’d you get that from?”

“You, mostly.”

“Excuse me?”

He offers you a smile, one that you subconsciously accept by feeling your insides turn to mush. This has got to be the longest you’ve spoken to him without mutual friends around, and without arguing. Truthfully, you don’t hate it. You’d never have thought that this would be the topic of your first ever civil conversation, though.

“Minghao? Seungkwan? Your type’s pretty obvious.”

“Do you spy on me or something?” you ask, a little baffled he knows the names of your previous boyfriends. You weren’t hiding it or anything, but Wonwoo’s never shown much interest in you outside of class. “Plus, that was months ago.”

He fixes his glasses and tilts his head to the side.

“Yeah? And what type of guys do you like now?”

You open your mouth to answer, but the words die down in your throat. Not assholes, you could say. He’s sparked your curiosity, though — what type of guys do you like now? Because you know for a fact that you’re done with assholes, which is why you’ve been trying your hardest to classify Wonwoo as one up until now.

“I–”

You’re saved from answering his question by your professor, who’s successfully hung up on his wife and is now announcing that class is over.

A sigh of relief escapes past your lips — another thing that doesn’t go unnoticed by Wonwoo, but he doesn’t push. He simply gathers his stuff, his pen that you borrowed included, and slings his bag over his shoulder. You smile at him, softly, a little hesitantly, because it feels right to do so.

His glasses rest at the tip of his nose as he stands up and says, “See you around, Y/N.”

Then, he walks off and you no longer fight the smile that makes its way to your face.

—

“Okay, so I think we all know why this meeting is being held.”

This is the first thing Soonyoung says as he sits down by the round table in the cafeteria, latte almost spilling out of his cup. You and Minjeong perch up in curiosity, and she puts her phone away in favor of commenting Soonyoung’s poor word choices.

“Meeting? It’s our lunch break, dude.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he rolls his eyes at Minjeong who snickers. “This lunch break is being held because–”

“–Because we need to eat?” you raise a brow.

“Y/N, you are literally in no position to act all smart right now. It’s you that we need to talk about.”

“Me?”

You look to Minjeong, but she only shrugs, meaning that this is a Soonyoung thing. You try racking your brain to find what the hell he might want to discuss, but nothing comes to you. Not even when Soonyoung offers you one of his signature smirks that signalize he’s up to no good.

“You, and hot nerd Jeon Wonwoo.”

Your mouth falls open in genuine shock. “Wonwoo?”

“Did you just call him ‘hot nerd’?” Minjeong slaps her hand over her mouth as she laughs, but stops when she sees you glaring at her. “Damn, okay, someone’s defensive.”

“Yes, Wonwoo,” Soonyoung leans over the table, hands together on the table like some sort of Hollywood detective. “What’s the deal with you and him?”

“What deal?” you look to the side for some help, but all Minjeong offers you is a smirk. She’s enjoying this a little too much for your liking. “Why are you looking at me like that? There’s no deal. We don’t get along, that’s all.”

“You sure looked like you got along yesterday,” Soonyoung giggles like a little schoolgirl, and you feel your face heating up. Of course he noticed, even though you barely talked with Wonwoo for three minutes. “Also, have you seen how he looks at you?”

“Like he wants to kill me?”

“Like he wants to kiss you. You’re mistaking passion for hate, babe. Or maybe you’re just pretending, because there’s no way you’re not seeing how cute you are together.”

“Me and Wonwoo?” you ask again, incredulously. “You’ve got to be kidding. There’s no way.”

“You have to admit, he’s pretty hot,” Minjeong cuts in. “Plus, you guys have, like, undeniable chemistry.”

“The only chemistry me and him share is the class. Which already sucks enough.”

“You know what they say, denial is a river in egypt.”

“Nobody says that, Minjeong,” you glare at her, deciding that it’s better to get out of here before you start doubting yourself. “Anyway, I gotta go to class, so get those Wonwoo delusions out of your heads, okay? Because that’s what this is — delusion.”

“Funny you had to clarify that.”

“Just because you’re insufferable,” you send them a painfully fake smile and grab your things so you can walk away, almost missing the words Soonyoung mutters under his breath.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

—

Usually, you can’t be found in the university’s backyard ripping your hair, but usually, you also don’t fail your chemistry exams.

You might be acting a tad bit dramatic, running out of class and sitting down on the grass with your back pressed against the stone cold wall to cool off, but that’s something to worry about later. Right now you’re just focused on feeling sorry for yourself. Which you are. To a very high degree.

“Are you okay?”

You jump at the sudden intrusion to your self-wallowing, turning around only to be met with a familiar face. His glasses are high up on his nose and his hair is neat, smile lines nowhere to be seen.

“Wonwoo?” you ask, a bit embarrassed that he’s seeing you in this state, especially when he looks so put together. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I read here every free period,” he says, frowning. “It’s you that should be in class right now.”

“Do you have my schedule memorized or something?” you look at him accusingly, pulling your legs closer to your chest for comfort. “Anyway, I’m just sitting here.”

Wonwoo’s silent for a moment, pondering on what to do, and then he takes a step in your direction. You don’t run away or protest, so he takes another one and another one until he’s close enough to sink down on the grass next to you.

“You look more like you’re drowning in sadness.”

“Yeah, well, I failed an exam, so,” you say and hand him the paper your hands gripped just a moment ago — your test with every mistake highlighted in red. The whole sheet might’ve just been red at this point, you think.

He examines it, brows furrowed, then hands it back. “Chemistry? I thought you were good at that, though.”

Your heart falters in embarrassment.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. That’s why I’m fucking sad.”

You don’t mean for it to sound so angry, but it comes out harsh and bitter. It’s nothing like Wonwoo’s used to hearing you speak. And what comes after shocks him even more — the tears that well up in your eyes and then fall, he can see them even as you turn away from him, perhaps in fear of judgement.

“Wait,” he says, a little dumbfounded. “Are you crying?”

It’s a stupid question, but his tone isn’t judging. Still, it doesn't ease anything — you feel like you’re about to explode. And what’s worse is that he’s here, Jeon Wonwoo, of all people, watching you cry over something so miniscule that he probably can’t even relate to. You’re not sure why it bothers you so much that he’s seeing you in this state, but it does, it really does bother you, so much you feel like you might die.

“Yes, I’m crying, Wonwoo,” you say, wiping your cheeks to your best ability. “Jesus christ. I did badly on a test, so I already feel like shit, and then you always have to come up to me with those stupid comments of yours.”

He blinks in surprise from behind his glasses, and even through your bitterness, you think to yourself that he looks cute like that — confused, for the very first time. At least it’s the very first time you are seeing him like this. But, to be fair, this is his very first time seeing you like this, too.

“I thought you liked it when I'm mean to you, though,” he says finally, and you look at him in disbelief.

“Wonwoo, are you seriously just here to imply I have a degradation kink?”

He remains silent for a minute, hesitating.

“Great.”

You laugh through the tears that have now stopped falling, and Wonwoo exhales in something that resembles relief. His gaze is still set on you, unrelenting, like he’s still trying to put together the puzzle. Does he want to leave?

A part of you hopes he won’t. Because despite that it’s a bit embarrassing, you could use someone to talk to right now. Even if it’s just so you can get your frustration out somehow.

“What I’m trying to say is,” he starts, choosing his words carefully. “I didn't mean it like that. I never do.”

You meet his gaze – soft eyes that remain otherwise unreadable – and let out a breathy chuckle.

“Yeah, whatever.”

You kick one of the stones in front of you, and watch it bounce a couple of times before it settles a little further away. Wonwoo doesn’t leave, even though you’re giving no signs of continuing the conversation. He just sits there, shoulder a centimeter or two from yours, and listens to both your breaths. Both uneven — his is nervous, while yours is upset.

“I’m serious, Y/N,” he says finally, catching you off guard just enough for you to turn in his direction again. “If I ever cross the line, tell me. I don’t want to hurt you.”

He bites his lip awkwardly as you feel your heart dropping to your stomach. It’s silent for a while, the back of your throat burning — threatening that you might start crying again if you say something now.

He pushes his glasses further up his nose, and that’s when you decide to take the leap. Leap meaning that you lean forward to engulf him in a hug, your head coming to rest on his shoulder.

It catches him off guard, you can tell. His muscles tense, breath caught up in his throat and your own heart beats so fast you think you might die. But it feels nice, hugging him. And it feels even nicer when he wraps his arms around you, too, albeit hesitantly.

You stay like that, bathing in his scent – peach and jasmine with a hint of something you can’t quite identify – and somehow, you feel at peace. The test is still at the back of your head, obviously, bugging you, but it’s faint compared to Wonwoo and his hand that begins to slowly stroke your hair.

“Thank you.”

The words are whispered into the crook of his neck, sending shivers down his spine.

They’re so quiet he barely hears them, might’ve mistaken them for a hiccup hadn’t he paid complete attention, but he is. He is paying attention. To how your muscles loosen up in his arms and there are no longer tears soaking through his shirt; how his own heart beats a little faster than usual; how he’s so painfully aware of the fact that talking to you only makes him like you more.

More meaning that he’s afraid he might be advancing from the useless crush he’d developed watching you argue with him during class. Advancing into uncharted territory that he’s never even intended exploring. Though he supposes he sabotaged himself by approaching you today.

“It’s nothing.”

But it’s a lie. It is something — the butterflies in your stomach or the warmth spreading across Wonwoo’s chest. Whatever you want to regard it as, it is something.

And that something settles in the very depths of your mind and his mind alike.

—

When Soonyoung announces that he’s bringing Wonwoo to come study with you and Minjeong in the library, your first instinct is to tell him you’re not coming.

Obviously, you’re embarrassed. And scared. And a million other things you can’t even begin to describe with words. He saw you crying, after all. Jeon Wonwoo, top of the class, saw you crying over a bad grade. It really doesn’t get much worse than that.

Still, you go. Mostly because you know staying at the dorm would spark questions from your nosy friends, but also because you don’t want Wonwoo thinking you’re avoiding him. Or else he’s going to think you care — which, essentially, you do. But he doesn’t have to know that.

“Do you think Wonwoo will laugh at me if I get the questions wrong?” Minjeong asks as you stand outside the door to the library, her hand on the handle.

“No,” you say. “He’s not like that.”

She opens the door, and you walk inside, met with the smell of books. Soonyoung and Wonwoo are sitting by the chess boards, talking, and you feel something turn in your stomach. Is it too late to leave now? Judging by Minjeong’s worried face, she isn’t so keen on being here either. Maybe you could both just go home.

Yet when she bites her lip and asks, “Are you sure?”, you can’t bring yourself to lie just so you won’t have to face him.

“Yeah. You should ask him to teach you if you don’t understand something, you know. Better to feel a little embarrassed than to fail an exam.”

“I guess you’re right.”

Just as she says this, Soonyoung catches your gaze and waves eagerly, urging you and Minjeong to come closer. He whispers something to Wonwoo, and he, too, turns to smile in your direction.

“Guess there’s no backing out now,” Minjeong giggles and you nod your head. There really isn’t.

The two of you make your way to the table where the boys are sitting and pick your chairs. Minjeong’s quick to sit next to Soonyoung, so you’re left with no other option but to plop down on the chair closest to Wonwoo. Normally, that would’ve only mildly annoyed you, but now, three days after he saw you bawling your eyes out, you can feel your heartbeat speed up vastly.

“Hey,” Wonwoo says and you almost jump. You’re not sure why, but you hadn’t expected him to speak to you first.

“Hi,” you reply and try smiling at him. Thankfully, he smiles, too. “What are you guys studying?”

“Chemistry,” he says, and upon seeing you wince, he’s quick to add, “‘Cause Soonyoung’s struggling with it. He asked me to teach him.”

You have to bite back a smile at his worried tone. “Ah, I see.”

He fixes his glasses, and clears his throat.

“It’s a really tricky subject, though, so I understand why you– uh, he, finds it troublesome.”

“Right,” you nod your head with a giggle, and you can almost feel Soonyoung’s stare burning into your side. It’s fine, though, because now, Wonwoo looks the slightest bit more relaxed.

You pull out your notebooks and textbook along with a coffee you’d made earlier, and when Wonwoo says your notes look pretty, you can’t help but grin. You kind of wish he weren’t so nice to you, but it doesn’t make you feel awkward, so you suppose you don’t have much room to complain.

It’s probably just reality catching up to you that’s making you nervous — the fact that he’s not so argumentative outside of class, and that you definitely felt something pull at the very bottom of your heart that day you failed the exam. That, and how the feeling isn’t giving any signs of leaving soon.

You let those thoughts wander as you start making notes, and soon enough, even Soonyoung goes quiet, occupied by his own stuff. It stays like that for a while, and at some point, Wonwoo’s knee bumps into yours. Warmth spreads all across you and you look at him.

“Sorry,” he whispers apologetically, retracting his leg, and the warmth subsides. In return you send him a smile in which you hope he can’t glimpse your slight – and unsettling – disappointment.

“It’s okay.”

And then it’s silent again, your body painfully aware of the fact that if you lean your leg a bit to the right you’ll touch Wonwoo. It’s not like you want to touch him, at least you don’t think you do, but the awareness is slightly nerve-wracking for some unknown reason. Everything about him is.

“Wonwoo,” Minjeong says, breaking the silence, making both his and your heads shoot up to look at her. “Y/N told me you could help me if I asked, so… I was wondering if you could explain biomolecules to me.”

“Of course.”

A quick smile flashes in your direction and then he’s leaning over the table to help Minjeong. His fingers follow the illustrations in her textbook and he starts talking — something about structure, you think. You listen intently, and it makes sense even though you’ve barely started the chapter, but you can’t bring yourself to take notes of what he’s saying. Can’t bring yourself to take your eyes off of him.

You wonder silently if he always was this handsome. You try to think of the times you spoke to him in class before, but it’s hard to recall his face in any other form than what your eyes meet now — focused gaze, lips moving to the rhythm of his voice. His glasses are slowly sliding down his nose, and you feel an immeasurable urge to push them up, but he beats you to it.

“Basically, they’re essential for cell division to happen,” he says, and you lean forward to look at the picture he’s pointing to.

Your shoulder bumps into his and he turns to the side. You notice, but don’t react in fear that you’ll just end up giggling like a schoolgirl. Instead, you pretend to read some of the text in the book.

Wonwoo picks up where he left off, voice a little hoarser than before, but you don’t move. Neither does he.

“Can you say that again?” you ask after he says something you don’t understand.

He repeats with his head turned in your direction, and your eyes drift down to his lips. You don’t want them to, it just happens, your stomach tying into a tight knot. You’re almost entirely sure nobody is supposed to look this hot while talking about biomolecules. Or was it morphogenesis? You honestly don’t know.

You don’t know why you feel like this with him of all people. Truly, there could be a lot of factors playing into it. The fact that he’s a smooth talker; the fact that he’s both intelligent and knowledgeable; the fact that you’ve grown to know him — what makes his blood boil and what makes him chuckle; the fact that he’s a constant in a sea of variables.

Maybe that last point especially. That even when everything else goes to hell, the moment you step into social anthropology class, he’s always there. Always willing to entertain you with, albeit sometimes pointless, banter.

You don’t even know what this is, though. Feeling your head spin when you look at him, having mini heart attacks when he says your name — are these the signs of you going insane? It could very well be that, you think. Insanity feels like the right word to explain your state right now.

“Y/N,” he says, breaking you out of your thoughts. “You listening?”

Your eyes drift back to his own, and you swear you see a glimpse of amusement playing in his gaze when you mumble a quiet “Yeah.”

Suddenly very aware of Soonyoung and Minjeong’s presence, as well as Wonwoo’s burning stare, you stand up, dusting off your clothes.

“I just need some fresh air,” you offer as an explanation.

“Mind if I join?”

You look at Wonwoo in disbelief as he asks the question. What the fuck? You don’t mind – at least in the sense that implies you don’t like his company – but it’s the same issue again; he makes you nervous. Goodbye to going for a relaxing walk, you suppose. And goodbye to whatever left there is of your sanity.

After what seems like hours of overthinking, you decide to get your shit together and send him a smile paired with a nod. Minjeong raises a brow in your direction, but doesn’t inquire further and internally you thank her for that. You’re not sure what you would’ve told her if she asked.

You and Wonwoo leave the library together, shoulders close together just like when you were sitting, and you swallow the lump in your throat.

“Everything okay?” he asks as you leave the building. “You seem a little dazed.”

The air is still cold, though winter is nearing its end and spring is slipping through the cracks. You pull your jacket closer to your body in hopes of both warming yourself up and slowing down your heartbeat, but it only fulfills one of those wishes, leaving you to deal with the latter yourself.

“I’m alright,” you respond with a soft smile. “Thank you for helping Minjeong, by the way. You’re a great teacher.”

Wonwoo’s smile lines shyly make an appearance. “Thanks. I’ve been thinking about becoming a real one, actually.”

You stop walking and turn your head in disbelief. Somehow, you didn’t expect that answer. Wonwoo was always a diligent student, but now that you come to think of it, he never really talked about his plans for the future, or what he wanted to do with his degree in chemical engineering.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah,” his cheeks redden ever so slightly. “Teaching chemistry honestly doesn’t sound that bad.”

You take a moment to think it through — him, in a suit and those glasses that fall down his nose, teaching kids about biomolecules. The idea is foreign, and yet, it fits just right.

You nudge him with your shoulder. “Professor Jeon, huh? It would suit you.”

He lets out a snort of laughter that sounds nothing like the small chuckles you’d hear from him during class. But it sounds nice, this loud laughter and you bathe in it for as long as it lasts. You’re starting to enjoy this whole ‘being kind to each other’ thing. Suits you better than yelling about something stupid in class. It suits him better, too.

Content with everything, you begin walking again and he follows suit. The grass is a little wet from yesterday’s rain and outgrown as it is, it tickles your ankles. It might’ve been mildly annoying if you weren’t so stupidly happy for whatever reason.

Whatever reason being Wonwoo, of course. You might be bad at chemistry, but you like to think you’re not dumb — at least not in an oblivious way. It’s become quite obvious, you think, that you like him.

The thought partly makes you want to kick your feet in the air and partly, it makes you want to rip your hair out. You like Wonwoo. It’s something so unexpected it makes you feel very bare as you stand there on the grass outside of your university, with your cold hands buried in the pockets of your jacket and Wonwoo’s eyes glimmering in the faint sunlight.

You like him. God, it feels weird to admit.

“About that day…” Wonwoo’s voice brings you back to reality, and you take a second to register what he’s saying.

“I freaked you out, didn’t I?” you ask.

“No, no, it’s not that,” he looks away and sighs softly, only to look directly at you the next second. “I just wanted to make sure you remember that one mistake doesn’t make you a failure. I should’ve said it earlier, but that day I was a bit… taken aback, I suppose. Not by the crying, obviously, but by the whole situation. And you.”

“Me,” you repeat, tasting the word on your tongue. Your heart starts beating a little faster, despite your best efforts at staying calm. He’s just talking after all; it’s not like this is some sort of love confession.

“Not in a bad way. Just in a new way,” he’s quick to assure you and you feel your heart swell in your chest.

“New. You make it sound so pretty.”

You laugh a bit, looking down on your hands. It. Does he even know what you mean? Does he know you’re talking about the fact that you’re slowly but surely starting to fall in love with him? Or is he just talking about seeing you vulnerable the other day?

“What would you call it?” he asks and you can’t stop your gaze from drifting back to him.

“I don’t know, confusing? And kind of insane.”

You swear his eyes drop to your lips for a mere second at that. He doesn’t say anything, just walks by you in silence, and it drives you crazy. You wish he’d say something – anything – just so you’d know if you’re even on the same page, but you don’t rush him.

Finally, he smiles at you.

“If insanity is losing control, then yes, I suppose I’m going insane. But it doesn’t feel all that insane to me.”

His eyes crinkle, soft streaks of sun painted across his face and you almost sigh. In delight, relief, or maybe fear, you’re not sure, but it’s those words, you think, that will linger. Those are the types of words to never abandon your mind, you’re sure of it.

“Did you rehearse this in front of the mirror or something?” you scoff at him, heart heavy in your chest.

He only laughs, and the sound stays in the air for a long time after you’ve left.

—

To say you were shocked to see Jeon Wonwoo sitting outside of his dorm with his head in his hands would be a major understatement.

You had grown closer to him in the past weeks — walking shoulder to shoulder around campus; him helping you with your homework — it all would’ve seemed unlikely had someone proposed the idea to you a month prior, but now, you had grown to truly enjoy his company. And he enjoyed yours, too.

In some ways, it stayed normal.

Comments and half-mean, half-endearing remarks remained untouched; what didn’t was your heart. It seems to be working against you at all times, beating too quickly when Wonwoo unexpectedly smiled in your direction, and dropping down to your stomach in fear whenever you saw him tippling over in emotion, only for the feeling to fade to the sound of his laugh.

This time, though, it doesn’t fade, only intensifies as you hear him curse under his breath.

“Wonwoo?” you try, and his shoulders tense ever so slightly.

You watch as he sighs, rubbing his eyes, then sits up straight, back against the wall. He doesn’t respond, even as his eyes, frail as ever, look into yours. They’re a bit darker than usual, and his lashes flutter as he blinks up at you.

There’s no one in the hallway, as if this part of the school emptied just to grant you a moment of privacy; a deciding moment, something in your stomach tells you.

“What’s happened?” you ask softly, quietly, unsure of what else to do with this obviously unhappy Jeon Wonwoo that’s sitting on the ground in front of you.

“It’s nothing,” he mumbles in response, leaning on his arms to stand up. “Just some school stuff.”

The corners of his mouth lift in a small smile, but you call his bullshit. You don’t necessarily doubt the genuinity of his smile, but the way he said it makes you think there is something that happened.

Taking a step in his direction, you nudge him with your elbow.

“What, the golden boy failed a test for the first time in his life?”

His eyes change at that — soft crinkles appearing at the very edges of them. His shoulders relax, too, and though it’s barely visible, you see it clearly. The air feels a lot lighter when he tongues his cheek and nudges you back.

“You sure run your mouth a lot, Y/N,” he grins and you feel butterflies flapping around in the very pits of your stomach. Then the smile fades to be replaced with a faux scolding look as he says, “I suggest you stop.”

You move to stand right in front of him, arms crossed over your chest. He’s taller, and you have to tilt your chin to look him right in the eyes as you giggle with a hint of playfulness in your gaze.

“Or what?”

He sees the smile playing on your face, the giddiness in your tone, and his heart bangs loudly against his chest. You look gorgeous today — well, that’s nothing new but it never ceases to amaze him how you can look prettier for each day that goes by.

Is this it? Is this when he’s supposed to make a move, like Soonyoung told him to? What does even ‘make a move’ mean, exactly?

He supposes it varies — just like the value of variables in the equations he solves so often.

Then how come he can’t solve this one?

You’re still standing there, looking at him without a care in the world, and he thinks that he’d never forgive himself if he screwed this up. At the same time, it doesn’t seem like you’re ready to run away from him, and so perhaps making a move doesn’t sound so stupid right now.

“Or,” he starts, and lets his eyes glide down to your lips for a moment to test the waters. You don’t scream in fear, and he takes it as a good sign. “I’m gonna have to make you.”

You giggle. “Yeah? And how exactly are you gonna do that, big boy?”

He feels his stomach turning upside down, squeezed by some invisible force and he has to remind himself to breathe. Is he really going through with this? Don’t start something you can’t end, Soonyoung would probably tell him. For once listening to his advice seems reasonable.

“Like this.”

And before he can even think of backing out, he brings the palms of his hands to cup your face and leans down, placing his lips against yours.

Taken aback, you let out a startled noise, eyes growing wide. He hesitates upon seeing your reaction, about to pull away when you finally kiss him back, tongue swiping over his lower lip ever so slightly.

A groan. Then, he’s bringing his hand to the back of your head and pulling you towards him, kissing you until your head starts to spin, and kissing you through that, too.

Your arms hold onto his shoulders for support, cheek leaning into his touch. Your noses touch clumsily; teeth clash when you open your mouth to let him explore it. Still, it feels like heaven and you can’t bring yourself to pull away for a breath.

Wonwoo, though, the more sensible one of you two, pulls back after a while, a smile on his lips and breath ragged.

You look at him — waiting for him to pick up where he left off, but he doesn’t move.

“That’s it?” you ask, and for a brief moment, all color drains from Wonwoo’s face. Did you not like it? Did he do something wrong?

“What do you mean?”

“You’re just going to leave me hanging like that?”

Your lip pulled between your teeth, you look at home expectantly, heart still hammering against your ribs. Truly, it’s not just about wanting more – though that plays a part in it, too – it’s also about whether this was a one-time-thing.

“Was it not enough for you?” he asks, tilting his head to the side after he’s calmed his racing heart.

“Considering I’ve been waiting for this, like, a month,” you say. “not really, no.”

He smiles down on you — that same smile that makes you weak in the knees, and you know there’s no turning back now. Not that there ever was.

“I think you’re a bit greedy,” he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and you shiver in anticipation. “I’ve been waiting for half a year, and yet, I still have some self control left.”

“I never had any in the first place.”

And with that, you pull him close for another kiss.

He doesn’t protest, opening his mouth and sucking on your tongue. His hands move down to your waist this time, pulling your body flush against his. You’ve never experienced being in such close proximity with him, and yet, you don’t feel all that nervous. It all slips away with his soft touches.

Your hands in his hair — it feels foreign, but he likes that feeling, gets drunk on it. But it’s some kind of reversed intoxication; he doesn’t feel faint; if anything, he’s feeling more sober than ever before as he bathes in your taste, your scent, you. This must be what love feels like, he thinks. This must be it, or else he’s certain he’ll never know love. If this isn’t it, he doesn’t want to know love.

He hopes you’re at least feeling a fraction of what he’s feeling as he pushes you gently against the wall, hands roaming your body. You do the same, holding onto him like he’s your lifeline, tugging at the strands of hair available to you.

So caught up in this feeling of bliss, you don’t even notice how you’re not alone with Wonwoo anymore until you hear laughter from a group of bypassing students.

“Get a room,” someone says and you pull away from Wonwoo immediately, face hot with embarrassment.

He doesn’t appear shaken, though — rather, you glimpse the shadow of a smile playing on his lips as he urges the students to leave. Just as you’re about to ask what he’s smiling about, his fingers close around your wrist and he pulls you along the hallway. He’s all rushed steps until you reach the nearest classroom that turns out to be empty, and he walks inside, dragging you with him.

Upon closing the door behind him, Wonwoo drags you into his chest. You look up at him, his inquiring gaze that asks for permission, and smile.

“Are you sure?” he asks and your grin turns teasing.

“Sure about what, Woo?”

He tongues his cheek, unsure of what to say. You’re just plain teasing him – that much is obvious – so he supposes he can give the same energy back.

“Sure that you want me to fuck you.”

You’re taken aback, though perhaps you shouldn’t be, considering how you set yourself up for this with your question. Still, your breath catches in your throat and your hand holds onto one of the nearby desks for stability as you face him. Wonwoo looks different now, to some extent; maybe it’s the lighting that gives his eyes a different glow, or maybe it’s how the air has suddenly become swollen with tension.

Whatever the cause, it excites you to no end, the way he’s looking at you when you take his hand in yours. Like you’re the only thing that matters.

“Yeah,” you say finally. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

At that, he pulls you impossibly closer. He takes off his glasses in a manner that you in a drunken state would’ve most likely called seductive, and throws them away somewhere you can’t see, too busy kissing him back when his lips crash into yours for the nth time today. He kisses you so hard it knocks the breath out of your lungs, and all thoughts out of your brain.

Mouth open, you let his tongue explore it and simultaneously, you allow him to walk you further into the classroom, until the back of your thighs hit one of the desks. Standing between your legs, he pushes your shirt up so his fingers can graze the bare skin underneath, and you sigh in content.

Before you know it, he’s pulling away to peel off your shirt and bra, leaving you bare in front of him.

“You’re beautiful, you know,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to yours again.

You smile into the kiss, goosebumps spreading over your skin with the touches of his fingers that glide further up your thigh, until they slip under your skirt. Knuckles running over your soaked panties, he bites your lip and you let out a delighted moan.

“You’re so wet,” he comments as he slips a finger under your panties, running it through your folds. You can already feel another flood of arousal approaching just because of his words. “Won’t even need to prep you, huh?”

You desperately shake your head no, and he chuckles.

He lays his palm flat against your clit and you squirm until he retracts it. Playfulness in his gaze, he smears your arousal all over your cunt, ignoring your whines. This takes him at least half a minute before he finally – upon hearing you whimper his name in a way that makes his pants a whole lot tighter all of a sudden – gives in and slides one of his fingers into your pussy.

You throw your head back with a whimper, holding onto his shoulder as he starts pumping it in and out of you, noises caused by the movement filling the air.

“Oh my god,” you breathe as he adds another one, your cunt tightening around his digits endlessly.

He smiles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder which is an immense contrast to how he curls his fingers inside of you, hitting that one spot that makes your toes curl. He plunges his digits in and out of your hole as his thumb circles your clit, until you’re moaning loudly — despite how little time has really passed.

It’s in utter shock that you watch him retract his hand completely, sucking the arousal from his fingers with a smile.

“Wha–” is all you manage to say before he flips you over, bending you over the desk.

You’re painfully aware of how bare you are in front of him — your naked cunt on display, because your skirt doesn’t do much to cover anything at all, and your tits pressed against the wood of the desk. Plus the fact that the locked door won’t do much good if someone is to have class in this room next period. Which would be in about thirty minutes.

Not that you care. Or, essentially, you do care, but now it doesn’t really matter — besides, you’re certain that Wonwoo would’ve managed to come up with some sort of excuse had you been forced to open the door for some frustrated professor.

Amidst your thoughts, you almost fail to hear the sound of Wonwoo unclasping his belt. Almost. But when you do hear it, something turns pleasantly in your stomach.

“You gonna be good for me and stay quiet?” Wonwoo asks and you feel his hands move to hold your hips, cock positioned at your entrance.

You mumble something in affirmation, something you’re not even sure you can hear yourself, and spread your legs to urge him on. You feel his cock prod at your soaked cunt, run through your folds languidly; again and again, until you’re whining his name in protest.

He only chuckles at your behavior, and asks, albeit teasingly, “What did you say?”

Gathering your thoughts, you try your best to ignore the way he’s dragging his dick over your pussy, occasionally rubbing over your clit.

“Yes, I’ll be good for you, Wonwoo.”

Pleased with this response, he finally enters you — cock stretching you open and making you cry out, holding onto the desk for support. He’s big, you realize, tears prodding at your eyes as he bottoms out.

“Yeah? Gonna be my good girl?”

You nod and nod, fingers turning white from how you’re gripping the wooden desk once he starts moving — in languid strokes, he manages to turn your moans louder and louder.

His hands hold onto your hips, pushing them against him so you’re further impaled on his cock with each thrust, and you swear you feel him all the way in your stomach. It’s a good feeling, one you can barely register fully with the way your mind’s gone hazy.

You hardly notice it when one of his hands lets go of your hips and comes up to your lips, fingers tapping at your chin as a signal to open your mouth. When you do, he slips two digits inside and you suck on them obediently, tightening around his cock.

Wonwoo smiles.

“Thought I told you to be quiet, baby.”

In all honesty, he loves the nosies you’re making, but he can’t risk someone starting to bang on the door before he’s got you falling apart completely. Besides, the sight of you sucking on his fingers is just as pleasing; just as effective in making his cock twitch in your cunt.

Your walls suck him in perfectly, the sound of him gliding in and out of your pussy loud in the empty classroom. His thrusts grow gradually harder; the desk starts moving in rhythm with them, and you can’t help letting out moans and whimpers that his digits in your mouth do a poor job of concealing.

He realizes this, and decides on removing his fingers so they can grab at your hair instead, pulling your back closer to his chest. Your tits bounce with his movements, and he plays with them briefly, groaning as your pussy clamps down on him especially hard at that, but then his hand moves between your legs to tend to your clit.

He rubs it in circles, granting you an occasional pinch or slap that makes you cry out, and you feel the knot in your stomach grow tighter and tighter.

“Feels so good, Wonwoo,” you sob, tears streaming down your cheeks as his fingers abuse your swollen clit.

“I know, baby.”

Barely coherent, you beg him not to stop, and he wonders whatever even prompted you to think that he might want to stop. He only fucks into you harder, hand on your hips to steady the thrusts that bring you closer and closer to coming.

“Wonwoo,” you say. “So close.”

“Yeah? Gonna come for me, baby? Gonna come all over my cock like a slut?”

You nod, though he probably doesn't see, and he pulls you even closer, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the sight in front of him. And to think he could’ve had this earlier had he taken the chance. You in the shortest skirt he’s ever seen, moaning his name like you don’t care if anyone hears — he honestly thinks he might be in heaven.

“Good girl,” he groans, and that’s what sends you over the edge, your pussy clamping down on his cock as you reach your orgasm. “Good fucking girl.”

He comes less than five seconds later, buried deep inside of you as his cum coats your walls. You whimper at the overstimulation of his last thrusts, collapsing on top of the desk when he pulls out.

He’s careful not to hurt you, but you still wince slightly, which prompts him to ask you if you’re okay.

“Never better,” you reply, and as soon as you say it, you realize it’s true.

Wonwoo smiles. He helps you clean up – repeatedly apologizing that he’s wiping you clean with the paper by the classroom sink, even though you tell him it’s fine – and puts his glasses on again. It kind of makes you wish he’d never taken them off, but there’s no way you’re telling him that. Your opinion about his beauty is something you’ll keep to yourself for now.

You get ready to leave just as someone knocks on the door, and Wonwoo opens it for a very flustered professor that tells you he’s sorry for interrupting. Wonwoo tries telling him it’s not like that – though it definitely is like that, and the blush coating his cheeks does nothing to hide it – and finally, you’re in the hallway, free.

“Poor guy,” you comment, a smile playing on your lips.

Wonwoo sighs. “Tell me about it. And here I was, thinking we’d gotten lucky.”

“I think we did get lucky, though.”

You say this without thinking it through, but from the way Wonwoo’s eyes light up, you’re glad you didn’t.

Suddenly, the doors to all classrooms in the hallway open and out come tired students, marking the start of the next period. Which you’re supposed to spend in biology.

You sigh, and Wonwoo seems to get it, because he tells you to leave for class.

“By the way, Y/N,” Wonwoo says just as you’re about to leave. Something in his gaze tells you this isn’t just a ‘by the way’ thing. “In case it wasn’t obvious, I’m really in love with you. And I’d like you to be my girlfriend.”

“Well, you’re in luck, mister,” you kiss his jaw with a grin. “Because it so happens that I’m in love with you, too. And I’d love to be your girlfriend.”

TAGLIST: @just-here-to-read-01 @syn-hhj @nikkell @dollyji

#wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #seventeen imagines #wonwoo x reader

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