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sutorus · 8 months

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BAD IDEA RIGHT? BEST FRIEND'S DAD!TOJI for KINKTOBER 2023!

DESCRIPTION: you and megumi are old friends, but a recent development (called growing up) has made you aware of just how hot his dad, toji fushiguro, really is. you sit on your desire for years until one night, you get an idea.

PAIRING: best friend’s dad!fushiguro toji x reader

WC: 5.1k whoops!

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORDS DNI. fem reader, afab reader, age gap! power dynamics, slight daddy kink, degradation, spit (like a lot it's a Thing here), oral (m! receiving), unprotected relations, slapping, gaping, size difference/size kink, creampie, toji is Nasty and a pretty bad dude lol

A/N: this is nasty and very descriptive i’m so sorry i really sinned here. anyway enjoy!

you and megumi have been friends since school. after all, it was inevitable that a friendship would form between the only two kids whose parents consistently forgot to pick them up after class.

nods of acknowledgment quickly developed into trading pokémon cards, sharing samanco waffles, cheating off each other during tests.

it was the most meaningful relationship you had in your life, the one other person who really got you and the situation you were in, and before you knew it, you two were being admitted to the same college, like you’d talked about all those years ago.

in the meantime, megumi’s dad had… mellowed out. from what you knew.

sure, he was still gone for weeks at a time, neglectful, irresponsible and womanizing, but one final falling out with their family seemed to have lifted a big weight off his shoulders, and he became more present in megumi’s life, less resentful. you knew he wasn’t a good guy, but you also knew he was trying, in his own way.

besides that, you also couldn’t help noticing other things about the man. you first started paying attention when you were in high school, always hanging out at megumi’s place to play video games or study.

toji would come home sometimes, smelling of smoke and sake, tonguing the scar on the side of his lip. plopping down on their shaggy sofa, legs spread wide, thick thighs straining the fabric of his pants. you would give megumi some excuse about getting something from the kitchen and just watch toji, lazily browsing channels with one hand inside his sweats.

it wasn’t a big deal. but it never quite went away, your infatuation growing with your desperation the more the man hung around. you did everything you could to get his attention.

you wore the frilliest, shortest skirts, left dirty dishes on the sink, showed up too late at night drunk and stumbling “looking for megumi”, acting out so you could try to get some reaction out of toji. but he never seemed to give you a second thought, annoyance being the closest thing to an emotion on his face every time your eyes met.

but you were no quitter. you knew one day you would get what you deserved. maybe not today, but… eventually.

you approach the fushiguro household’s front door, fishing out the extra key megumi had given you from your backpack pocket. you two had a study session today but he’d texted you telling you he’d be late and to just let yourself in, so that’s what you do.

with a sigh, you set down your laptop on their coffee table and sit down on the couch, looking up at the ceiling. before you can finish getting comfortable, a tall, broad figure is looming over your face and you almost jump out of your skin.

“what the f—oh my god,” you laugh in embarrassment. “you scared me, fushiguro-san.”

he doesn’t react, his eyes boring into yours. “me? you’re the one breaking into my house.”

you roll your eyes, pulling your legs up below your body. “megumi gave me a key. we’re supposed to study today, do you know where—“

“he’s with that itadori kid. don’t think he’s coming back tonight,” toji moves to sit down on the loveseat, turning the tv on. the old, boxy thing crackles to life, a boat race playing on the screen. toji adjusts his body in attention. “so you can fuck off back home.”

“um,” you start, but nothing else comes out of your mouth. you let your eyes wander all over his lax form, and you can faintly make out his abs below the raggedy shirt he’s wearing. it makes your stomach turn.

without taking his eyes off the screen, he addresses you again. “you know where the door is.”

an idea starts to form in your head. a really, really bad, tempting idea.

you discreetly take off your sweatshirt, leaving you in just your undershirt, no bra. you hope toji can scent the whiff of perfume you exude when you move, scooting closer to the edge of the sofa.

“nah, i think i’ll just study here. my parents are home today and they’re too… y’know.”

“not my fuckin’ problem,” he picks at his teeth, spreading his legs wider. your desperation is growing with each second he spends not looking at you.

you lift up your bag, something clinking inside. it's a bold move, but it's now or never.

“i brought booze. we could just share some and then i’ll go.”

that at least gets a reaction. the man snorts, finally glancing over at you from the corner of his eyes. you instinctively push your chest out, feeling eager.

“is that what you do with my son under my roof? get shitfaced in the house that i pay for?”

“well i paid for the vodka so i don’t see how that’s any of your business,” you make a point to pull out the bottle from your bag, swinging it around.

toji’s expression hardens, his jaw clenching. you know he doesn’t like to be challenged, absolutely hates smart mouths. you should be in for a treat.

“who the hell do you think you’re talking to, kid?” he stands up and snatches the bottle from you, turning it around in his — big, veiny, deliciously calloused — hand and laughing. “vanilla flavored? fuck, you really are a kid.” he says it like the realization excites him.

you can feel your face flush.

“are you gonna turn down free alcohol, toji?” it’s risky, dropping the honorific. you know he doesn’t like it, can see it in his face, but he doesn’t say anything.

instead, he unscrews the top with ease and takes a swig, grimacing at the taste. you watch as his throat works, adam’s apple bobbing.

his arms are huge, you can’t imagine he was ever shaped like megumi is nowadays, slender and frail. toji is tall and broad and big, with a permanent 5 o’clock shadow on his defined features.

he grabs two whiskey glasses and sets them down on the coffee table — no coasters —, pouring some vodka in both of them. it was most definitely not your idea to do straight shots tonight with megumi, but you will not go through the humiliation of asking for a soda to mix it with.

you’re desperate to have toji view you as the adult you are, no longer megumi’s awkward middle school best friend. you know you’ve grown up well; all you need is for toji to see it too.

you drink in silence for a bit, the only noises coming from toji being his disappointed grunts as the boats he bet on fall behind. you type away at your laptop, not really being able to focus with the heat rising within you.

he refills both your cups a couple more times, but makes no effort to talk.

you slowly but surely start to get antsy, your determination wavering and giving way to a funny feeling one can only experience by drinking with their best friend’s dad who they’ve wanted to fuck for like, ever.

so you bite the bullet and with the liquid courage flowing in your veins, you strike up conversation.

“y’know, toji, i’ve always wanted to ask,” his head lolls on his shoulder to look at you lazily and disinterested. “what happened to megumi’s mom? he doesn’t talk about it.”

“yeah, well. me either,” toji replies. you take a deep breath.

“you’re gone a lot. megumi is alone a lot.”

toji scoffs.

“thought that was what you were here for, hmm? megumi’s done well for himself,” he finally, probably for the first time in your life, gives you a proper look over, his eyes traveling all over your frame, tucked into the armrest of the couch. “scored himself a nice little bitch.”

you let out a strangled noise. you’re fighting laughter when you exclaim, “i’m sorry?! you think megumi and i have a—like, a thing?”

toji just shrugs, stretching one leg out in front of him. “i figured. why else would you loiter around my house so much?”

oh, if he only knew.

“no, no. it’s never been like that. megumi’s not really my type.” toji hums inquisitively, and you take that as a sign to continue. “i’m into more… mature guys.”

toji eyes you knowingly, but seemingly amused.

“that right?” you nod. “fuckin’ kid like you even know what to do with a man?”

you raise an eyebrow. you’re a sophomore in college, well into your twenties. he can’t be serious. “surely you know i’m not a kid anymore. surely you d—“

“surely my ass,” he exclaims and oh, he’s a little terrifying like this. toji downs however much was left in his cup and turns to you, pointing with the hand holding his glass. “you’re a full of shit, foul mouthed, rude brat. get the fuck out of my house, you’re pissing me off.”

you’re used to toji’s outbursts, not because you know him well but because every time you see him, seldom as it is, he always loses his temper, sooner or later.

“i think,” you take another sip, feeling loose. “your old ass wouldn’t be able to handle sex. like, actual sex, not those rich hags you who just lay there for you and give you money in the end. if you had to put in any real work i bet your heart would give out you slimey pi—“

you can’t finish your sentence because you can’t breathe, suddenly. your eyes widen, chest spasming as your oxygen gets cut off mid-sentence. toji has one of his huge palms covering your nose and mouth.

you look up at him with watery eyes but he’s not looking back, he’s chugging vodka straight from the bottle again.

he puffs his cheeks and moves his hand to cup your jaw, smirking around a mouthful of alcohol.

you catch your breath quickly, the hand that was clawing at his falling limply on your lap. toji holds your face, his grip unforgiving as he leans over you. his form is so, so much bigger than yours, towering over you completely, and all you can do is look up at him with a blank expression.

his thumb pries your mouth open with ease, the digit hooking behind your bottom teeth as toji’s face gets closer and closer. on instinct, you close your eyes.

soon, hot, stinging liquid is pouring steadily into your mouth. toji swishes the rest of the vodka between his cheeks — on purpose, you’re sure — before spitting it directly on your tongue.

it’s disgusting, everything about it makes your stomach churn, but it also makes you squeeze your legs together, chest rising and falling rapidly as you swallow without having to be told to.

“ya talk too fuckin’ much, brat,” he grumbles. ironically, you’re at a loss for words. “someone needs put you in your place already.”

“you,” your voice cracks and nearly fails you, but you’re determined. it surprises him, that you’d have something to say. that you’re still game. you can see it in his face, in the way his hands come off of you. “i want you to.”

toji’s expression is hard and unchanging. his fingers go back to your face, two of them slipping inside your lax lips.

your breath stutters as you inhale, instinctively sucking the digits and working your tongue around them.

toji grabs his cock through his pants pointedly.

“fuckin’ slut… that what you want?” you nod. he takes a step forward, knees hitting the couch. “is that why you walk around my house looking like a fucking whore?”

a whine dies in your throat at the sweet, sweet recognition.

he noticed.

he noticed and it bothered him and you really couldn’t bring yourself to care that he was your best friend’s father right now because he was tenting his sweatpants and your mouth was watering at the sight.

“please…” you paw at his waistband, pulling on the drawstrings. toji laughs at your desperation, voice growing gruff.

he buries a hand in your hair, fingers closing around your locks tightly and making your eyes sting with tears. slowly, he pushes your face into his crotch, so close that you can feel it pulsing, can feel every ridge, can feel that he’s not wearing any underwear.

god, you can smell him, and it makes your head spin, your mouth huffing out hot breaths and wetting the front of his pants.

you hook your fingers in the back of his sweats and pull until they’re down tight around his thighs. you have to maneuver the fabric over the head of his erection, earning a hiss from the man towering over you.

his dick springs up, slapping you in the face and leaving a smear of pre across the bridge of your nose. you think toji snorts at that but you can’t be sure. you’re too mesmerized.

he’s so, so big, the skin darker and flushed, tight, heavy balls and the head, angry red, peeking out from the foreskin.

your throat goes dry at the thought of it inside of you, inside any of your holes, because you know it’ll destroy you forever. and you want it.

toji doesn’t have the appeal that most men his age do to most girls your age. he doesn’t make you feel safe, he doesn’t offer financial support, he doesn’t care about your well-being, he doesn’t have his shit together. and to make matters worse to you, he’s your best friend’s dad, who your best friend doesn’t even like that much, whose presence has been totally indifferent to megumi for most of his life.

it makes you burn in shame to know you’re about to have a man 25 years your senior in your mouth.

you readjust your position on the couch so that you’re sitting on your knees, angling your face with his cock. it’s curved, pointing up, and you wonder how much of it he’s gonna wanna stuff down your throat. judging by the pure evil glinting in his eyes, it’s gonna be as much as possible.

you take a deep breath, steadying a hand around his length. it’s concerning that you can just barely close your fingers around him, but you put that thought aside to focus on pulling the skin down gently so you can wrap your lips around the tip.

toji sighs in relief, his grip in your hair tightening.

you begin to work your head up and down, licking the underside of his cock to gather up saliva.

“thaaat’s it, what a good little bitch. got a sweet little mouth on ya,” he whispers, hips thrusting slightly to work his cock further into your mouth. “yer gonna take all of it? or are ya all talk?”

you whine, gripping the base and sliding further down his length. he’s already hitting the back of your throat, making your eyes water and your stomach seize. you pick up the pace, twisting your wrist rhythmically as you suck him.

“don’t swallow,” he threatens, forcing his cock deeper into you, the head sliding into the opening of your throat. “lemme see how messy this slutty face can get.”

you choke audibly, eyes smarting with tears, makeup smudging. you look up at him with furrowed brows in a silent plea of mercy.

toji’s having none of it.

he puts one foot down on the sofa, next to your legs, giving himself the leverage to start fully fucking your face now. he wraps both hands around your throat and thrusts his hips violently into your mouth, his thumbs pressing down to feel his length in your throat.

“ahh, fuck,” he throws his head back, reveling in your desperate gurgles. you feel like a fucking ragdoll, like a fleshlight, unable to control the noises you make or how much dick you take. “takin’ me so well. who taught you to squeeze your throat like that, huh? so fuckin’ slutty.”

you sob around his cock, nose buried in his pubes. he’s impossibly hard, impossibly wet as thick strings of spit and pre hang from your lips, dripping down to his balls, falling to the floor.

toji keeps fucking your throat relentlessly, granting you mere seconds between thrusts to inhale a desperate breath that immediately starts to burn in your lungs.

he’s a fucking sight though, above you. chin tucked into his chest, veins bulging and biceps flexed, nostrils flared as he watches you devour him.

he pulls out suddenly, leaving you choking for air. tears stream down your face, spit bubbling out of your nostril. you look all wrong, like you’d been put back together by someone after being utterly demolished.

“open your mouth,” toji orders. you obey and he grabs his cock, slapping the head against your tongue a few times. he slides his length in and out for a bit before he starts jerking himself off. “suck my balls.”

you take that moment to swallow down the saliva that had pooled between your teeth, tucking away the wet strands of hair that frame your face.

toji’s lifting his cock towards his belly, fisting the head and flicking his wrist. he looks at you expectantly, and you understand it’s time to prove yourself once again.

you place a gente thumb right below his shaft, where his sack hangs. your tongue dips in between his balls, shyly at first, just slightly tracing the shape of them before you pop one into your mouth.

toji groans, the hand on his cock gaining speed. you squeeze your thighs together; you’re so wet that it makes you uncomfortable. you lean forward on your knees, steadying yourself with your palms planted firmly on his thighs.

you’re sucking his balls earnestly now , one then the other, then both at the same time, angling your head up and working your tongue up and down the wrinkled skin.

toji’s loving it, maybe more than the blowjob, and it makes you feel like a toy all over again, in an even more humiliating way because now you’re not even allowed to touch his cock, he’s just getting to use your mouth anywhere he wants.

it’s so fucking hot that it makes you dizzy. you hollow your cheeks, giving his nutsack a good suck before gingerly lifting his balls. you sneak a glance up at toji, hoping to catch him by surprise when your tongue dips even lower, approaching some pretty controversial territory.

it works. his breath catches in his throat and his knee kicks out instinctively.

he grabs your hair immediately, pulling you away from him.

“fuck,” you look up at him smirking, lips smeared with saliva and snort. but you don’t even care how debauched you look right now, as long as you can keep the upper hand. “you’re a nasty little bitch, aren’t ya?”

he leans down to kiss you deeply, messily, inhaling loudly through his nose. toji finishes stepping out of his sweatpants and pulls his shirt over his head, revealing what you’d been imagining for so many years.

you run your hands over his chest, his abs, down his hips, his v-line. he’s so fucking hot, got bulging muscles you didn’t even know existed in the human body, and scars you can’t even fathom the origin of.

he stares at you, looking bored. “get up.”

you do, legs shaking and prickling with pins and needles. now you can fully feel the scope of your arousal, how your panties stick to your core uncomfortably, how the wet tops of your thighs rub together.

toji sits down on the sofa and you waste no time getting on his lap, clawing at his chest and leaning in for another kiss. he’s unforgiving even like this, so much bigger than you, his hand on the back of your neck and his mouth on yours.

“arms up,” and when you comply, he’s pulling your tank top off. “good girl.”

you shiver, instinctively wrapping an arm around yourself. toji tsks at that, easily taking both your wrists in one hand and pinning them behind your back. he grabs your tit with the other, popping as much of it as he can in his mouth.

you groan, fighting against his grip to get your hands on his hair, his shoulders, anywhere. toji relentlessly sucks on your nipple, nibbling and circling it with his tongue.

when he pulls off, he lands a swift slap across your boob, ripping a groan from you.

“such a good fuckin’ slut, look at that body.”

he slaps your ass, this time, tugging your shorts over your butt. you help him get it off of you and then, finally, you’re straddling toji’s cock, no layers in between you two, just your dripping core on him.

you think, belatedly, condom, but then toji is pulling you in for another kiss and for all you know megumi could come home any minute and you wouldn’t want to waste time like that. or so you tell yourself.

his hands guide your hips to grind over him, soft mewls coming out of you and being buried into the crook of his neck.

“pretty little girl, gonna ride me? hmm? gonna ride this old man’s cock?” you whine, nodding.

you press your front against his so you can lift your ass up and guide the tip into your entrance. you don’t expect to be able to take it all, but at least like this you can control the pace and how much of it is going into you, the only thing keeping you from panicking at the sheer size of him.

the head of toji’s cock doesn’t slip inside so much as it pops inside, the ridge locking just past your opening.

it’s too big, and even though you’re soaking wet, it’s still a stretch. you both groan in unison and you realize, this is it. this is your fantasy, you’re fucking toji fushiguro, megumi’s dad, your best friend’s dad.

your legs tremble as you hold yourself up, too soon to sink down more on his cock. toji’s playing with your nipples but you have a sneaking suspicion his patience isn’t going to last much longer.

you give it a valiant effort to take more in and it feels like being ripped in two. you clench your jaw, a bead of sweat rolling down your temple.

“fuuuuck, so fuckin’ tight,” toji spreads your ass cheeks with both hands, rubbing the thin skin where you two are connected. he thrusts up, feeding your poor pussy more of his cock, and you let out a scream. “take it, c’mon.”

“unghh—can’t, toji, hang on—“

“‘course ya can,” he fucks up into you again and you sob, nails raking down his chest. he hisses and slaps your ass in punishment. you realize you might really cry.

“i can’t, it’s too big, too much—“

“shhh,” in an uncharacteristic display of affection, toji kisses the furrow between your brows, snaking a thumb between you two to rub your clit.

you throw your head back, body torn between seeking more pleasure and running from the pain. you can hear how wet you are as toji fucks in and out of you, your plush walls hugging him so well, weeping around him.

he speeds up and you bury your face in his chest, moaning wantonly into his skin. toji lets out staccato grunts, working his cock further into you with each thrust.

“any scrubs your age givin’ it to you like this?” he breathes out, grabbing your ass hard and moving it up and down his length for you. you whine, drooling on him. “yeah, that’s right. fuck, take it, that’s a good girl.”

“ahh, toji—“

“that’s not my name, whore,” he fists your hair and drags your head back until your eyes meet. “try again.”

“fushiguro-san—“ that earns you a hard slap on your ass. you yelp — wrong answer.

“toji-sama—“ another slap, and this time he grips the reddening flesh viciously. you whine, squirming in his grip.

“little braindead cumslut,” he wipes a tear with his thumb. “who’s fucking this tight pussy right now? huh? tell me who's ruining this slutty cunt.”

“d—daddy?”

toji smiles, humming, his grip on you softening as he leans in for a kiss. “that’s right, sweetheart. show daddy how much you want it.”

it’s amusing to toji, you know it. he just wants to humiliate you because he’s aware of how badly you’ve wanted this. but it does something to you, it’s serious to you, it’s so fucking depraved and sexy to you.

he lifts you up with ease and lays you back down on the couch. you feel so empty suddenly that it makes you want to cry, like toji has already carved a home inside of you for his cock that no one else will ever be able to fill.

he wastes no time getting on top of you, hooking a hand under your leg and lifting it up onto his shoulder. your eyes widen immediately, a protest dying in your tongue. this position… his cock… it’s, god, it’s gonna be—

toji plunges in in one violent, perfunctory thrust. you let out a scream, your heel kicking toji square in the back as your body rises up from the couch. he’s all the way inside now.

you can feel him bruising your cervix, his balls, wet with a mixture of the two of you, slapping against your ass, his hip bones drilling into you.

“you’re so deep,” you look at him with panic in your eyes, chest gone cold at the overwhelming pleasure. “you’re so deep.”

toji laughs, pulling out to spit on his cock. he grabs your ankle and sets it on his shoulder. “yeah, baby, daddy’s all the way inside now. feels good, doesn’t it?”

“fuck. oh fuck,” you let out shaky breaths, allowing toji to lay more of his weight on top of you. your knee is by your head now and somehow in this position his cock seems to hit even deeper, to curve up exactly in the right spots that have you struggling to breathe. “you’re gonna break me.”

“takin’ me so well. just a natural slut aren’t ya,” he’s fucking you so fast now, wet, slapping sounds resounding across the whole house.

there’s a thick creamy ring at the base of his cock, frothy and bubbly with how much you’ve been gushing for him. toji presses a thumb against your clit and rubs tight little circles, making you squeeze against him like a vice.

he grunts, speeding up his movements.

“so sensitive, this cute little pussy. you a virgin?” he slaps it a few times, your wetness sticking to his fingers with every pat. “gonna cum soon, whore?”

you whine, nodding. you wrap both arms around toji’s neck and pull him closer, open mouth awaiting expectantly.

toji grins, spitting onto your tongue before leaning in to suck it.

“toj—daddy,” you moan against his mouth, “daddy, i’m close.”

you don’t recognize your own voice. it’s slutty, desperate, pitchy, juvenile. it's too far gone.

toji works your clit over and over again, fucking you harder than you’ve ever been fucked. he splays a hand over your stomach, kneading the place where his cock is nestled inside of you and hitting a spot that makes you lose control of your body and words.

“ah, ah, ah, oh god toji fuck daddy make me cum, please please can i cum—“

“oh, fuck,” his thrusts start to become erratic and you know he’s close too. you clench around him, one leg wrapping around his hips to make sure he stays inside until you're done. “cum on daddy’s cock, come on. make a mess, little girl.”

you throw your head back, burying it into the pillows as your entire body thrashes with your orgasm. you clamp around him so hard that you can't even tell where he ends and you begin.

toji takes no mercy on you, his messy cock plunging in and out of you fast.

“gonna fill up this pretty pussy, yeah?” you shake your head desperately, one hand punching his chest. he can’t finish inside of you, right? but why do you want it so bad? “no no no, don’t fuss now baby. you want daddy’s cum inside you, don’t you? wanna give megumi a baby brother? fuck yeah i know you do fuckin' take it whore fuuuuck, fuck i'm coming—”

he thrusts once, twice, three more times, knocking all air out of your lungs and the most ridiculous moans out of your mouth before he’s spilling into you, locking your legs like a fucking pretzel and biting down your neck.

you can feel it pulsing, spurting inside of you. you can feel both your heartbeats in your abused cunt, both of your juices combined and oozing out of you.

once you catch your breath, toji pulls out of you languidly, with a yawn. you two made a fucking mess, a sticky puddle on the couch right below your ass.

toji eyes it disinterestedly, much like how he’s eyeing you right now. your sweaty, messy, fucked out self, nearly melting on the fushiguro household’s sofa.

“ah. are ya on the pill or what?” he asks, like he just now remembered. after a few seconds you nod, a little incredulous. “heh. good.”

you slowly sit up, reaching for your sweatshirt to at least cover yourself up. you sneak a hand down to your cunt, fingers sliding through the mess there to dip inside you.

fuck, you’re gaping. toji well and truly ruined your pussy. it makes you panic a little bit, but it also makes pride swell within your chest, knowing you took it, all of it.

toji finally addresses you.

“i’m gonna go take a shower,” he looks behind his shoulder, sighing. he points at you. “we left the fuckin’ tv on. if this shit racks up my bills you’re gonna have to pay me back.”

you guffaw. “me? pay you how?”

he smirks.

“got one more hole i haven’t wrecked yet, dont’cha?” he flicks your forehead. you just sit there, incredulous, trembling legs, halfway to horny again. from the bathroom, toji calls out, “let yourself out. oh, and leave the vodka.”

A/N: lmfao! i got nothin to say in my defense. reblogs r very much appreciated

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slttygeto · 10 months

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SLOWLY LOVING YOU — SUGURU GETO.

જ⁀➴ synopsis: Before Yaga introduces you to the third years, Suguru is a little unsure of you joining them. And then he meets you, and suddenly his heart doesn’t know how to slow down.

જ⁀➴ content warning: fem!reader, reader gets a few cuts and faints, swearing and a lot of fluff.

જ⁀➴ word count: 4,2k

જ⁀➴ note: thank you to the sweet @duhsies for commissioning me! I had so much fun writing it<3!!

“Yaga says there’s a newcomer,” Satoru had a habit of speaking with a mouthful, which Suguru really hated. A hand is smacking the back of the white haired’s head who hisses at the contact before glaring at his best friend.

“Hey!” He protests, his sunglasses resting at the tip of his nose.

“Swallow your food.” Suguru presses, taking a sip from his drink. He had heard long ago from Yaga about this newcomer, and wasn’t really sure how to feel about it. It’s not that he wasn’t good with new people (he wasn’t), but he felt like it was a little odd to transfer someone and have them be with him, Shoko and Gojo right away. They had to have a good cursed technique, a great control of their cursed energy, otherwise they’d just get in the way of everything and—ouf, this was too negative.

Who was he to judge? Sure, a part of him was skeptical, but he was trying to awaken the other side that usually reassures him that everything will turn out just fine.

“I wonder if it’s guy or a girl,” Satoru speaks again, and this time (surprisingly) he swallows his food before opening his mouth. Suguru shrugs at his best friend, grabbing a fry from his tray of food.

“It won’t really change much, I just hope they’re good at what they do,”

“Oh Suguruuu,” Gojo whines at his friend’s negativity, pushing him but not too hard. “Don’t be such a kill joy, I’m pretty sure that they’re good. Otherwise, Yaga wouldn’t look so excited.”

“Why are you the one telling me to be nice?” The black haired male raises an eyebrow, carefully picking out a fry that didn’t have ketchup on it.

“You rubbed off on me,” Satoru wiggles his eyebrows to which Suguru rolls his eyes at.

“Don’t.” Suguru presses, but it’s too late to stop his friend’s funny joke.

“That’s a little fruity—“

“Finish your food.”

When they head back to the school grounds after having lunch, they’re pleasantly surprised when they find Yaga, Shoko and an unknown girl standing near one of the school buildings. From the looks of it, you weren’t that nervous. Sure, you were checking out your surroundings as the school was new, but nothing about your demeanor suggested that you were anxious. Not even a little.

Suguru raises his eyebrows at this, and although he tries not to stare too hard at you, Gojo is quick to notice it and nudges him with an elbow.

“Hey, think that’s the new girl?”

“I mean, it looks like it,” Suguru mumbles a response and stops walking when Yaga starts to approach them.

“You finally decided to show up,” Oh, an ass-whooping is on the way.

“The mission took us way too long,” it’s Satoru who tries his luck as his usual, and the grin on his face draws a similar one on Suguru’s lips.

“Yeah, but we managed to get it done with. That’s all what matters,” if it wasn’t for Satoru’s love to piss off their teacher, Suguru is sure that he wouldn’t bother. But it’s fun, and it gives the students something to laugh about.

You watch the scene unfold before you and you raise your eyebrows at how easy going the pair standing in front of you was. Did they not fear Yaga? You had been introduced to the man a couple of weeks ago before you were transferred to the school, and despite the comforting vibe the man had, you still felt like you owed him some sort of respect.

Something the two guys bickering with their teacher seemed to lack. Or maybe it was just an act.

Yaga gives the two guys a comical smack to the back of their heads and you hear Shoko snicker next to you. You fight back a smile of your own, until you feel Shoko pat your back, almost in reassurance.

“You can laugh, they won’t be offended.” You relax at this, and before you could even say anything in response, Yaga is clearing his throat to get your attention.

“You can introduce yourself,” oh, he’s talking to me. You’re suddenly aware of the three pairs of eyes fixated on you, and you fidget nervously.

“Hello, my name is (name) and I’m—“

“That’s boring!” The white haired male cuts you off, and your eye twitches. Well, that’s offensive. Before you could even glare at him, he’s approaching you while taking off his sunglasses and your heart stills at the sight. Those eyes felt like they were staring into your soul.

“Show us your technique, that’s a much more interesting way to introduce yourself,” your body relaxes at this, and you can see Yaga signaling you to go along with what your classmate was saying.

“Oh, okay then,”

Suguru’s eyes are cat-like as they fixate on you. You get in position to show off your technique and suddenly, everything goes quiet. He could feel the energy shift when you stepped away from them, and so he was anticipating a big show. Perhaps, you were a show-off like Gojo.

Suddenly, the air feels a little different—why is it wet? He touches his skin to make sure he wasn’t imagining things, and before he could even process things, fog had engulfed him entirely. This was new.

You were nowhere to be seen, maybe that was your technique—a little weak, Suguru thought. But it felt like you read his mind because right in front of him was standing a carbon copy of himself. A clone.

“What the—“ The clone stands still as Suguru gets into a fighting position, ready to unleash a weak curse at it, but the clone is quick to do the same and releases a different curse—the clone knew about his technique?

Before things could escalate further, he heard a snap of fingers from behind him and his eyes widen when the fog and the clone both disappear at once. You were standing right behind him. Being so focused on the fact that what was standing in front of Suguru was a literal doppelganger, he failed to notice you sneak up behind him. He assumed that you snapping your fingers was to deactivate your technique, but it was also a realization that you made him so unaware of his surroundings—and that was the beauty of your technique.

Everyone looks amused by Suguru’s confused expression. He was staring you right in the eye, and your confidence and the relaxed expression painting your face would normally sned shivers down anyone’s spine. It was awkwardly silent for a few moments before Gojo decides to break the silence.

“That was rather impressive, wasn’t it?” Shoko agrees with her classmate, clapping almost ceremoniously. Yaga steps away from the two to approach you and Suguru who was still staring at you, this time with less resentfulness. Sure, he hated having someone sneak up behind him. And the fact that you had chosen him out of the three felt a little strange, but he tried not to overthink it.

Maybe it’s because I looked like a bitch.

He immediately brushes off the thought when you flash him an unapologetic smile, the confidence you gave off a few moments ago replaced with something he couldn’t quite decipher—were you getting shy?

His lips part almost in shock at the way your cheeks are slightly pink, and you take two steps back and away from him before apologizing out loud.

“Sorry, I just thought you looked a little bored.”

Oh, not anymore.

“That to you, is a Grade 1 sorcerer.” Yaga announces very proudly. Usually, Grade S sorcerers would be the one to be introduced like this—with so much pleasure and honor. But Yaga didn’t care about that. He saw potential in you and embraced it like you were his top student.

Geto couldn’t shake off the giddy feeling in his chest. He watched as Satoru came over to your side and ruffles your hair, promising that you were going to have a good time at school because he was there. And you played along, the playful expression you wore on your face not matching the blush on your cheeks—you were just easily flustered having this much attention on you.

“What do you say, Suguru?” He snaps out of his thoughts at the mention of his name, and he finds his best friend staring at him with those eyes. He caught him looking at you, didn’t he?

“Sorry, I zoned out.” It wasn’t entirely a lie, but he wasn’t going to say that you seemed so interesting that he found himself so lost in his thoughts. He didn’t like this, he didn’t like how you seemed so unaware of the fact that you were breaking down his walls one by one, and all of this happening in less than an hour of meeting you? Unbelievable.

“I said, we are all gonna get along so well, right?” Glancing at you, he notices how you seem to shift your attention back to him the moment his name is mentioned. You’re almost eager to find out what he has to say next, sparkly eyes and a tight lipped smile making you look so fucking adorable—oh fuck, no.

“Yeah, we will.”

He was officially and totally fucked.

It’s been a few months since you officially transferred to Jujutsu high, and things were going great. You felt like you fit in so perfectly, you were a bit nervous that you would be a burden since the trio seemed to have a dynamic of their own, being the one to ruin the dynamic—or worse, feel left out would just be the highlight of your school year. But they were so nice. Each in their own way.

While Gojo felt like a troublesome sibling with his many pranks and jokes, Shoko truly felt like a close friend. You could crack jokes with her, share food and even watch movies during the weekend. The friendship you shared with both seemed very genuine and you were so grateful for that.

And then there was Geto.

Suguru Geto, tall and handsome, with long dark luscious hair and cat-like eyes. A smile that seemed precious since it appeared way less than you would want. A voice that felt like he was purring in your ear and a personality that had your heart stuttering in your chest.

He had caught your eye the moment you saw him walk on the school grounds. You tried not to make your tiny crush on the man obvious right away, but it felt like you blew your cover when you chose him as your target when asked to show off your technique.

Things weren’t exactly bad between you and the tall male, but they weren’t that good either. There an awkwardness that always lingered when you were both left alone, your heart would beat so fast and so incessantly when you felt his eyes on you before he places a piece of his chocolate on your desk.

“Was gonna share it with Satoru, but he pissed me off today.” You’re almost shocked that he’s even addressing you when neither Shoko nor Satoru were in the classroom.

“Are you sure? He does like sweets,” you still grab the sweet treat and place it in your mouth, to which he chuckles at.

“Well, you ate it immediately. Seems like you don’t care.”

“Well, he did piss me off too today,” you’re grinning, playing with the wrap of the chocolate. Suguru raises his eyebrows at your remark and continues to tease you.

“Was it another joke about how bad his clone was? I mean he’s not entirely wrong—“

“Stooop,” you groan out, resting your head on your desk in defeat. You were too embarrassed about the recent incident, and no one seemed to want to let go of it.

Rather than being embarrassed that his clone was that ugly, Gojo’s sudden and quick realization that your clones had an immediate link to your photographic memory lit up a bulb at the top of his head. And so the teasing began.

How come Suguru’s was so accurate on day one!

Do you have something to share with the class?

It was horrible, and you remember how Yaga had to smack the white haired male in the back of his head to get him to stop. He caught onto your little crush on Suguru faster than you had anticipated, but you were glad that when asked what he was teasing you about, Satoru chose to save you the embarrassment and just say that his clone was so ugly, you needed more practice.

“I just need more practice,” you say, a little muffled from having your face in your arm. Suguru stares at you for a few moments from his seat, then he suddenly gets up and walks towards you. He crouches down in front of your desk and you quickly raise your head in question.

“Hm?”

“You don’t hate me, right?” He could’ve asked that question from his desk, he knows that. But it would’ve seemed a little cowardly cause he knows he would avoid looking you in the eyes. But eye contact was important when communicating things, and right now was one of the few moments where Suguru felt like he was going to pee his pants waiting for an answer.

“Hate you?”

“I’m aware that hate is a big word—it’s a strong feeling too, but I just need to know if you feel that way about me.” Suguru was supposed to feel stupid, maybe a little insane for asking you something like this. But he noticed how things always got quiet when it was just you two alone. It didn’t necessarily mean you hated him, but a part of him wanted to make sure you didn’t resent him for mysterious reasons.

“I don’t hate you,” you pause your words, and Suguru watches as your face slightly reddens as you avoid his eyes. “Uh, just nervous.”

Now, why did I say that? It’s one thing to know that he makes you feel this way, but it’s another when you fully admit it to him and watch as he raises both of his eyebrows, almost in shock.

“Nervous?” At first, he’s scared that the word has a bitter taste to it—but it slowly dissipates when he sees the blush on your face darken because why did he have to say it like that.

It sounded like he was saying it for the first time, carefully tasting each letter and syllable. You felt nervous around Suguru.

“You are kind of intimidating,” the small smile painting your lips eases Suguru’s nerves despite having another word describe him. But he’s heard this one before. In fact, he likes it. He likes the way it makes him feel, the ego boost it gives him when he sees people quiver in his presence.

But he didn’t want to have this kind of effect on you. You didn’t need to fear him or avoid his eyes for him to know that he was a powerful sorcerer—he wanted you to feel safe with him. He wanted to rid you of any problem weighing you down, have that smile on your lips for a long time. Whatever Suguru felt for you, he was coming to terms with it and accepting it.

Slowly that is.

“If I’m intimidating, then is Yaga like a monster to you?” Suguru teases you back, and he stands up from his crouching position. He stares down at you with a grin, his sharp eyes making eye contact with your own bright ones. A contrast like this looked so endearing.

“Yes.” You don’t hesitate as you reply, and Geto immediately bursts into laughter at this.

“Wow, you didn’t even hesitate.” Wow, I made him laugh.

“But he is scary! I mean, he’s very nice… but I don’t think I’d wanna piss him off like Gojo does,” you mumble the last part, but Suguru hears you loud and clear.

“Satoru pisses off everyone, so you’re safe.”

Having a conversation like this with Geto felt nice. It wasn’t that often that you two chatted or even had the time to sit down and give each other normal classmate updates. So to be able to talk to him like this, make him laugh until his stomach hurts before walking to your dorms felt new. But you weren’t complaining.

Over the last few months, you’ve gone on a couple of missions with both Suguru and Satoru. They were all successful, and you always got done with them in half of the time.

But today was different. You were going on a mission with Suguru.

Yaga mentioned how you both seemed to work really well together, and while Suguru might’ve been stronger than you, you had so much potential that couldn’t get wasted. Suguru seemed like the perfect fit for a partner and a sort of mentor.

The mission was going to take place in another city, which is why you find yourself on the train with the tall male who was trying to get some sleep.

Sitting across from each other, you couldn’t help but steal a few glances at the guy. He looked too good from this angle, you could feel your body tingling in embarrassment.

The guy’s just trying to sleep

Over the last few months, no matter how hard you tried to brush your feelings for Suguru, they resurfaced not only a day later when he did something that would make your heart stutter in your chest. You remember him making you food when you were sick, giving you his scarf when you got too cold, suggesting to style your hair for you—how could you not fall for him?

But you were terrified of rejection. You were scared that those feelings could potentially ruin the friendship between you two, and God knows how horrible that would make you feel.

“We’re there,” you were so lost in your thought, that you didn’t feel the train stop. Only Suguru’s hand on your shoulder was able to snap you out of it.

“Oh sorry,” you stand up and make your way out of the train with Suguru following close behind.

“Did you manage to get some sleep?” He asks from behind you, and you slow down your pace to match his footsteps before shaking your head.

“Not really, I wasn’t that tired.”

“Oh but you will be after the mission, that’s always how it is.” He was referring to the many times you and Gojo would end up falling asleep on each other on the way back home, and he would secretly take pictures of the white haired male drooling on your hair to show it to you when you both wake up.

“Thank god he’s not here to drool on my hair,” you say with a hint of annoyance, but it’s harmless.

“Oh, you never know,” the playfulness to his voice makes you roll your eyes, but the smile on your face gives away that you were anything but annoyed.

You arrive to said location after ten minutes of walking. And at first sight, it seemed like any normal abandoned building; a little creepy, no color painting its exterior and most importantly lifeless. But the smell—god, the gut wrenching smell that came from it made you cringe.

“God, it smells horrible.”

“Then we’re at the right place.” Suguru is the first one to walk in, and you follow close after. You take careful steps, eyes darting around the area to scan it for any clues.

“I have a horrible feeling about this,” you mumble to yourself. You knew you were sent to this place to find the source of its gloominess, but the farther you walked down the hallway, the tighter your stomach got.

“It was an orphanage.” Your heart sinks at the revelation, watching the old toys scattered on the floor, filled with dirt and dust. You could only imagine what happened to the kids.

The room is silent for a few moments before both of you and Suguru stand still. Almost on guard.

“Do you feel it?”

“Yeah, I do.” Whatever took over this place was huge. It didn’t necessarily feel like a strong or dangerous curse, but the way it was staring at you from down the hall had you standing in a fighting position.

Before you could even process the fact that you were dealing with that big curse, it charges at you—and fast.

It’s too fast for its size!

Mist engulfs the creature almost immediately, it would only serve as a distraction for a little bit before it would rage even more and decide to charge at you.

“Go hide, I’ll take care of it.” You watch as Suguru calls in two of his powerful curses, both enough to do the job. But you don’t want that.

You don’t want him to do the job on his own, or worse hide while he does everything. It wasn’t why you became a sorcerer, why you chose to even join the school. And so you stood still, grabbing one of the daggers attached to your thigh. You ignore Suguru’s cries telling you to step away from the huge curse.

“You’re gonna get killed if you don’t move!”

“Shut up!” The mist slowly morphs into something else—something Suguru has never seen you done before. It shapes itself into a beautiful scenery, one where flowers are blooming and the sun is shining and—he was hallucinating.

And so was the curse. The technique might’ve not been the most powerful, but it still managed to blind the curse for a few moments. You fill your sharp dagger with cursed energy before slicing it open in one swift motion. It’s messy and sloppy, and blood covers your clothes and the floor like a paint. You stand still and stare in awe at what you’ve just done.

I killed a huge curse on my own!

What you fail to see is the multiple cuts on your body, and how all color leaves your face as exhaustion washes over you. Shit, you were passing out.

The last thing you remember hearing is Suguru calling your name before everything goes silent.

Suguru is a mess. That was the only word that could accurately describe the state of the poor guy as he paced back and forth in front of your dorm room. No matter how much Gojo tried to convince him that you were okay, he refused to budge.

He was mad at you. You were so reckless back there, refused to listen to him when he asked you to move—he was filled with all kinds of emotions.

And so when Yaga finally gives him the green light to visit you, the first thing he does is scold you.

You’re sitting up in your bed with bandages wrapped around your body, and you look so tired. But despite all of that, you still manage to flash him a warm smile when he walks inside your room and closes the door behind him.

“Yaga told me I was passed out for two days, I hope I didn’t worry you—“

“What you did was reckless.” Suguru cuts you off, voice sharp and cold that you flinch. Your eyes stare at your lap, avoiding his because he was right. You were reckless, refused to listen to him and powered up your technique faster than your body could handle.

“I know,” you don’t apologize. A part of you wants to, but you were still going to stand your ground if he tried to guilt trip you about the situation.

“And I was very mad,”

“I know.”

It’s silent for a few moments, and Suguru takes in how despite the tears blurring your vision, you refuse to give in and apologize about anything.

“But that’s only because you scared me to death,” he hears you sniffle, and he sees you blink away the tears before staring at him in shock. Suguru takes a few steps towards you, and for a moment you see the hesitation in his action. He quickly brushes it off as he gently rests his hand on your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek.

“You have no idea how terrifying that was.” Your heart starts racing at his words, and his touch left a tingling feeling behind when he pulled away to pat your head.

“I don’t want you to do that again, but I gotta admit,” he ruffles your hair, the scowl on his face morphing into a soft expression.

“That was really cool,” your smile is on your lips almost immediately at his words, and you take your hand and wrap it around his wrist. You pull his hand down and place it again on your face, a bold move that has the both of you slightly blushing.

“You think I’m cool?” your voice sounds sweet when you ask the question, and Suguru thinks he’s never heard you sound like this before but he nods anyway.

“The coolest.”

Neither of you move or say a thing after this, but the prolonged eye contact had the tall male leaning down a bit hesitantly at first, making sure you were okay with it. So when you pull him closer and place your lips on top of his, Suguru is convinced that it was the right thing to do.

The kiss is short and sweet. You pull away after a few seconds and the blush on your cheeks spreads across your entire face when he leans in to give you another kiss. Then another and another.

“Sugu—“

“Shhh, you look cute when you’re flustered.”

2023 © all works belong to slttygeto. do not repost my work anywhere else.

#moon's works #geto suguru #geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk geto #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #geto x you #geto fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen getou #jjk getou #jujutsu geto #getou suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader

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mitternz · 1 year

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oh em gee first post with new tags

#♫~! my posts #also first post in like a week or something that isn’t queued!#spring break started a few days from today which means i can finally break the mini hiatus hopefully whoop #but outside of school i just. literally had no motivation to keep up this blog #since nowadays my energy is spent finishing series and expanding my interests lololol

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a9saga · 1 year

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youtube

tbt - shinee - view // bitch fuck yeah 🔥🔥🔥

#i just remembered to post this now im in the parking lot at school whoops #i saw someone drink prime irl at work the other day #i actually didn't know it was a thing at all until pinely talked about it recently wow logan paul is a talented salesman #i have an exam on monday and it's kind of all im thinking about #im so busy at tutoring i know for at least my full four hour shift i will not get enough work done #i still have the last section of homework to finish bc some of the problems are such bullshit #i had 7 or people on Tuesday and i stayed to work on my own shit after my hours but people kept asking me to check on their work #i might have to stop doing that #im too good at my job it seems #other than that being on my mind ive actually had a pretty good week and had an overall very good day yesterday #shinee still feels good tho i almost forgot to mention i fucking love shinee and you should too #shinee #tbt #song rec #kpop #shut up kaily #Youtube

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ohbother2 · 3 months

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Okay….Adam sfw and nsfw headcanons? I cannot believe I have begun to simp after this trashbag DAMN YOU ALEX BRIGHTMAN-

I have an admission... I fucking love Adam pls keep sending Adam requests in I can't get enough of this man

Also, sorry I've been MIA, I've got a lot of deadlines coming up so updates will be more spaced out over the next few weeks :)

I love Adam but he's quite difficult to write, so pls lmk what you guys think! I tried to keep him in character! (This was far longer than planned lol I just love this man)

NSFW - Minors DNI

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Adam x f!reader - General Headcannons

SFW

You'd been in heaven for many decades, possibly even centuries, before you had ever even entered Adam's radar

He was the 'original dick', as he liked to constantly remind everyone within shouting distance, and spent all of his time surrounded by the higher-ups of Heaven, attending meetings, court-hearings, and dealing with training his danger-tits army for the next extermination

It would take a lot to enter his radar, having to work your way into the correct circles, gain the right connections and attend the right events

But once you're in the circumference of society he haunts, you're on his radar immediately

He's a man with fine tastes, look at his previous wives, he has a type ("fucking bombshells" as he would describe them) and as soon as he sees you in his peripheral one afternoon he's zoned in and absolutely entranced

No one has ever said no to him before, so when you do, he's taken aback. Hiding his confusion and deep-rooted offence with a flippant comment "Oh, playing the hard to get game, babe? Lucky for you I fucking love the chase."

Inwardly, he's fucking fuming, why on earth would you reject him? Alas, he's sure he'll win you over eventually... right?

He's arrogant, he's cocky, he's a self-entitled piece of shit, but he's also determined, passionate, and is anything but a quitter

You will not know peace for months after your reject him

He'll storm into your office whenever he feels like it - which is whenever he has enough free time to do so - bugging you relentlessly as you try and finish your work. He never stops asking questions about you: your day, your hobbies, your love life, what're you doing after work tonight? He's free, he could take you somewhere nice, show you a real fun time

When you stop answering he starts bitching about his day to you, about the local gossip, about some Seraphim that pissed him off, about some bitch at the bar, which he could totally take you to, did he mention he was free tonight?

He doesn't just hound you at work, and you often find yourself coming to a screeching halt in the street and abruptly turning the other way when you spot his iconic mask - he's a tall man, his horns poking noticeably above the crowd as he tries to find any excuse to find and talk to you

When he gets really desperate, after months and months of unsuccessful attempts of gaining your attention, he finally turns to Lute with the all too familiar question "You're a woman, right? What do you-"

The advice she gives is not one he is happy to receive, 'stay away and tone it the fuck down', but he listens, ego taking a massive hit as he watches you carry on as normal

Funnily enough, you start to miss the annoying dick, and you begin to look forward to his far less frequent visits, which mainly consist of you both bumping into each other at work and making polite conversation

When he really can't take it anymore, and he happens to hear rumour about another man planning on asking you on a date, he practically breaks down your office door with a bouquet of flowers, thrusting them unhappily into your hands and asking incredibly politely for you to please go on a date with him

You're both surprised when you agree, and he can feel his face heating up beneath his mask as he whoops, calling a "I knew you'd come around babe, I'll pick you up at 8 tonight. Can't wait to see what you wear." over his shoulder as he bustles back out of your office, practically vibrating until he can tell Lute the news

He's 'The Original Man', and once you become his girl there is nothing he wouldn't do for you - he's constantly swinging by your office and pulling away the less important paperwork, commenting that he can get one of his workers to do it and freeing up time for you both to hang out; he's constantly flying through your balcony with bags of some new takeaway and chatting about this amazing new food place he found as he drops the heavy bags on your counter; someone causing you trouble? If he can't personally deal with it due to some 'relationship' he has to upkeep, he's sure to inform Lute who will have the situation handled before sunset that same day

Basically, he has authority in Heaven, and he's going to use that to make your life as easy as possible

Having a bad day? He can fix that. Oh, not in the mood for sex? Well, he's an amazing cuddle buddy, and he has the softest wings, let him just grab some snacks from the kitchen and then get ready for a night on the sofa wrapped in his strong arms and soft wings

His wings are insanely soft, and big, and despite his best efforts, no matter how long you've both been dating, they will flutter if he hasn't seen you in an extended amount of time, or if you're wearing something particular nice - he can't control it and it thoroughly ruins his bad-boy persona

You're the only other person beside Lute who he feels comfortable with letting preen his wings, and after you start officially dating he only comes to you with the issue, batting his eyelashes and pleading with you to 'take care of him'. You do, and he always breaks his promise not to 'make it weird' until you give him a firm smack on the back of his head - he's fallen asleep more times than you can count with your hands in his wings

He returns the favour, of course, and he sticks to his word like a gentleman, hands remaining firmly against your wings and not daring to wander. He's not a saint, however, and he will whisper less-than-holy things in your ear as he works - he'll stop if you don't play along, and finds himself enjoying the innocent intimacy of it. If you do play along? Oh, boy, his hands don't stay on your wings for long

He uses his wings a lot in his body language, and in your initial stages of courting he'll constantly puff them out to make him seem bigger, trying to impress you with his sheer size - embarrassingly for you, it works

PDA is not approved of in heaven, so he has to maintain his distance from you in public but that is a completely different matter in private

He will take every opportunity to touch you, innocently, whether that be a had on your jaw to bring your attention back to him or to guide your gaze wherever he wants you to look, a hand on your bicep to pull you this way and that, a large hand between your shoulder blades if you're being too slow

In public, completely subconsciously, whichever wing is closest to you will outstretch, barely noticeable to the majority of people, corralling you in closer to his side, and protecting you from whatever might happen - there's no danger in heaven, but still, he likes to know you're safe, and his wings reflect that desire

In private, he's constantly got a hand on you, oftentimes both, on your arms, your shoulders, your waist, the small of your back, your thighs, fucking anywhere - he likes having you on his chest on the sofa, and he finds it funny when he tries to do the same and crushes the air from your lungs

He loves when you cook and he can just stand behind you with his chin propped on your head or shoulder and his arms around your waist. You constantly have to tell him off for whispering foul things in your ear, but he quickly shuts up when you threaten to send him away, his grip tightening against you as he pouts playfully and watches silently

He will actively stretch out his wing when it's cold or windy or rainy, shielding you from the elements with his large wings and loving the excuse to pull you close. "What're they gonna say babe? I'm just keeping you dry."

The biggest difficulty in your domestic lives is the housework, he's an old fashioned man and he's never really had to do housework before. He's gotten better throughout your relationship, but he still absolutely hates washing dishes, but he'll happily sit in the kitchen and keep you company and talk mindlessly as he watches you work. He always thanks you with a kiss

If you ever make him do it, expect to be sat on the counter right next to him and no you cannot leave until he's done and yes you will listen to him complain the entire time and yes he will always slap your ass with a wet hand as payback, cackling as you yell half-heartedly

Deep down, incredibly deep, oceanic levels of deep, past the many many levels of crude jokes and brash humour, of over-compensating confidence and attempted witty one-liners, past the smirk and the puffed chest and the domineering presence, is a man who is cripplingly doubtful and insecure - two of his wives have left him for the same man, and he's absolutely terrified (but would rather burn in the fiery pits of hell than ever admit it) that it's going to happen again

He can seem rude and brash and uncaring, but he really is trying his best, and he's desperate to prove to you, in his own way, how much he really cares (He's scared to admit even to himself how much losing you would crush him)

Because of this, no event is ever half-assed - it's your birthday? He's got the biggest cake he can find and he's made some of his exterminators set up a surprise birthday party for you. It's your anniversary? He's pretending he's forgotten until the morning of and suddenly you've got a reservation at one of the nicest and most in-demand places in all of Heaven

"Come on, sugar," He'd reprimand you mockingly, shit-eating grin on his face at your excitement "you really thought I'd forget my special girl?"

He can doubt himself sometimes, worrying about your feelings for him, but he hides his insecurities whenever you catch him in deep-thought with some lame sex-joke

He doesn't ever want to talk about his insecurities, and he'll never outright tell you what he fears more than anything, but you pick up on it after enough time together

You don't pry, but you do card your hands through his hair when you see his eyes go particularly glossy one afternoon, pressing a kiss to his temple and scratching at his scalp, making your way slowly to his wings and back and taking your sweet time. He closes his eyes and listens to you ramble about your day, which eventually turns into you rambling about him, how handsome he is, how hard he works, and how much you love him and how you don't know what you'd do without him

He doesn't realise it, but you say just the rights things he needs for him to regain that pep in his step and for his cocky words to have more meaning behind them

NSFW

He's the Original Dick, and you'd hope he had the goods to back up the talk with the amount of bragging he does

He does; he does have the goods, and some would say he's being humble because what the fuck

He's the oldest human in history - he's seen it all, done it all twice, and he's more than willing to share some of his tricks with you

He's too proud and self-centred to ever let you have complete control, but when he's particularly lazy he'll let you go on top (as rare as this occasion is) but he'll still guide you as best as he can, lifting you easily with his strong arms and sweet-talking you with his sharp tongue

The first time you ever see him without his god-awful mask is during an intimate moment - you're first intimate moment, where you downright refused to continue if he didn't take the cursed thing off his face

Again, he's insecure, and it takes a lot of reassurance and just the right amount of kisses on his jaw and neck for him to be convinced that taking his mask off was worth it

He lets you look at him for several moments, and then he's had enough and he took his mask off for a fucking reason and he's pulling you into his lap and kissing you properly for the fist time

You can compliment him later, he has other things on his mind right now, the main one being fucking you until you can't even conjure a coherent thought

After that encounter he slowly takes his mask off in private with you more and more, learning to appreciate how nice it was to be able to kiss your temple and actually feel you against his lips, as well as how nice it was to feel your lips against his cheek

Still keeps the mask on sometimes, especially when you ask so nicely

He absolutely loves receiving head, resting back in his office chair or against the back of the sofa and letting you get to work, grunts and groans falling from his lips as his hands grip your hair tightly and guide you exactly how he wants you

He will give head as well, he's not selfish by any means, but he much prefers kissing you as you fall apart beneath him - for him, he'd much rather swallow your screams and mutter dirty things in your ear as he brings you to release

Be careful with his wings, especially when he lets you preen them - gentle touches can easily be misinterpreted as passionate caresses and before you know it you're pinned on your back with a red-faced and disheveled looking Adam hovering above you, muttering about how you're a "fucking tease" and if "you wanted it so bad all you had to do was ask, sugar. I'll never leave you wanting."

He knows the power of wings, and his heavy touches against your own when he needs to "Just sliding past babe, what's that fucking look for? Can't a man work?" are no accident. He loves getting you all wound up. He takes it as a personal challenge to do it in public, and his shit-eating grin remains the entire day before he's pressing you against the door of his office or your plush bed and muttering about how fucking needy you are.

He doesn't take being teased well, and he'll glare at you the entire time until he can do something about it - he'll have even less patience than usual, especially for people who aren't you, and often has to do damage-control after he's regained his bearings a few hours later

He's a big man, and he uses that to his full advantage, man-handling you with ease, positioning you exactly where he wants you, pinning both of your wrists easily with only one of his large hands, pushing your legs apart like butter

He can lift you easily, and he'll hold you against the wall, or countertop, or wherever the fuck you guys are, and he'll keep you there until he's done

Lute has walked in on you both far too many times, and she always hurtles back out of the door cursing at you both angrily

He likes pinning you beneath him, spreading his wings over your forms and completely shrouding you with his form - you're fucking his, and no one else will take that from him

He fucking loves dirty talk, and it's a challenge to get him to shut up - he'll carry on talking at you long after you're able to respond, and he'll just start talking about that instead: "Aw, look at you, can't even fucking say my name you're so fucking dumb for this c-"

As said before, he's insecure based on the way he lost his two previous wives and the reflects into the bedroom

If you do degrade him, he'll just challenge you, telling you you've obviously not learnt your fucking lesson and picking up the pace, desperate to prove he's the exact opposite of whatever had just spilled from your mouth - you'll pay for trying to goad him on, he won't relent until you're a babbling shaking mess, stuttering out apologies and taking back everything you had just dared to say to him

Any praise you offer him he absolutely laps up. Call him handsome, tell him your his, tell him there's no one else in the world who would ever compared to him, how good he's fucking you - he'll get so wrapped up in the praise he'll even stop talking, completely focussed on his task of making you feel good, making sure you know there's no one else who could give you what he does

Dig your hands into his wings and he becomes a groaning mess, and it'll only be a few seconds of you muttering those sweet praises in his ears and your nails digging into his wings before he's collapsing on top of you and panting raggedly, still trying to mutter out curses and praises through his gruff gasping

When he really loses control his wings will flap of their own accord, and you've had to completely clear your side tables because he kept accidentally smashing everything that was on them

He likes to rest afterwards, and he usually tries to encourage you into going another round.

He'll tug you into his sweaty side, pulling you half onto his chest as he breathes deeply, immediately asking if you enjoyed it, and when you agree, he'll always mutter something along the lines of "Of course you fucking did, it's me."

#hazbin hotel #Hazbin Hotel adam #Hazbin Hotel #Hazbin Hotel x reader #Hazbin Hotel Adam #Hazbin Hotel Adam x reader #Adam x reader #lute #Hazbin Hotel lute #Hazbin Hotel smut #Adam smut #Hazbin Hotel Adam smut #Hazbin Hotel x reader smut #smut

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bbydoll18xx · 22 days

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I'll Be Your Temporary Fix

Paige Bueckers x Media Team Reader

Based on this request:

'Could you do a Paige x media team reader. Where Paige and reader are fake dating because Azzi is uncomfortable with the fans shipping her and Paige. Reader does it cus she owes Paige a favor (you can make something up).'

Word Count: 2.3k

I absolutely loved this request! There will be a second part posted in a few days.

Thanks for reading!

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

You look up from your camera as the sounds of an argument cut through the bouncing of basketballs and squeaking of sneakers against the floor of the gym.

Azzi and Paige are at it again.

This was not the first time you had seen them sniping at each other this past week, and sure it was concerning. They were best friends.

What could possibly be the issue?

Being the head of the media team for the women’s basketball team at UConn meant you had formed some very close friendships with the girls. Today, you were attempting to finish filming shots of this week's practices to post on Instagram. The new season was soon beginning, and it was crucial that the rest of the world was able to see what you saw in these girls. However, that was proving to be a challenge with the incessant bickering coming from Paige and Azzi.

“C’monnn, just please go ask her,” Azzi whines loudly, looking over in your direction. You frown, confused as to why their arguing would have anything to do with you.

“I can’t just ask her to do that. She’s too nice, and you know it’ll make her feel all weirded out!” Paige retorts, equally as loud.

They really were not subtle.

As practice ends, you put away your equipment, feeling Paige’s eyes on you. Looking up, you see Azzi retreating back in the direction of the locker room, with Paige slowly sauntering towards you looking nervous.

That was odd. Paige never really looks nervous. She was smug as hell, pretty much always. It was something you envied and admired.

“Good job today, P,” you say as she comes to stand in front of you, eliciting a broad grin that caused your belly to do several happy flips.

“Thanks, gotta have someone to show off for,” she responds with a wink and laugh. She continues after a beat, “Listen, I have a weird request and feel free to say no, but I kinda promised Azzi I would ask.”

You nod for her to continue, wondering what the blonde could possibly need from you.

“The fans are kinda obsessed with the idea that me and Azzi are in a relationship, and Azzi is super uncomfortable with it. She has a bit of a crush on one of the guys on the men’s team, and even he thinks we’re together.”

Your eyebrows furrow at the information, trying to process what she was saying.

“Okay…so how do I fit into all this?” you ask puzzledly.

Paige bites her bottom lip apprehensively, “well we thought maybe if the fans saw me with someone else, they’d forget about ‘Pazzi’.”

You look at her blankly. “Wait, me?” you ask. “You want to pretend to date me?”

“Only if you want to. We just thought it’d be a good idea. The fans love you, you’re actually gay, and you’re not exactly bad looking,” Paige mutters the last bit, causing you to turn a bright shade of pink.

This was certainly not a good idea. It was a terrible one.

You had harbored secret feelings for Paige since showing up day one with your camera and a head full of ideas.

Pretending to date Paige Bueckers was a surefire way to fall head over heels, and that was something you had spent a generous amount of time trying to avoid.

You sigh, going over the pros and cons in your head.

“Pleaseee,” Paige pouts, drawing out the syllables dramatically. “Ya know, you kinda owe me. I did introduce you to Steph Curry that one time…”

Your eyes narrow at that. She really decided to pull that card. “Fine,” you clip, in a way that was more hesitant than you actually felt.

Paige throws herself against you in a joyous hug, whooping loudly in your ear. You giggle at her antics.

“Thank you so, so much. I promise Imma be the best fake girlfriend you’ve ever had! Why don’t you come over tonight, and we can start planning,” she smirks excitedly.

You agree and go your separate ways, your stomach already rolling at the idea of doing anything romantic with the tall blonde.

Later, you walk towards the door to Paige’s apartment feeling thoroughly fucked. You had gone over every scenario in your head just about a million times since your conversation earlier. Your pessimistic disposition could not see this ending well.

The noise levels were alarming, and as you peered your head around the corner of the door, you saw multiple girls from the team lounging on Paige’s couch. They whoop as you make your presence known, feeling grateful for a buffer. Sure, you loved being alone with Paige, but the idea of having to feign intimacy was so foreign. You weren't sure if you were capable of that.

“She’s here, P,” Azzi shouts towards Paige’s bedroom door, causing her to quickly emerge with a shy smile.

“I hope you don't mind, but I figured we could go live with the girls tonight and get these rumors rolling,” Paige explains to you.

“Course not,” you respond breezily, wanting to keep up an air of indifference. You secretly hoped everyone else thought you were chill and not at all dying at the thought of people thinking you and Paige were together.

Azzi gets up from her spot to stand next to you. “Thank you so much for doing this. It’s not going to bother you, is it? People talking about you?” She has the eyes of a puppy dog, and you immediately feel better agreeing to the scheme.

“Nah, nothing really bothers me,” you shrug noncommittally. ‘Except having to fake intimacy with the person I want most,’ you add in your head bitterly.

Considering it was Ice who was live the last time shit had gone down with Paige and Azzi, everyone thought it would be hilarious for her to do it once more. It was so fitting.

KK, Ice, and Azzi were sitting on the couch in the living room of the apartment, leaving you and Paige the small armchair in the corner. It felt like something out of a cheesy movie. The girls giggle as you realize that you both cannot comfortably sit side by side in the chair, your cheeks aflame once more as you put the pieces together in your head. Paige takes a seat first, basically manspreading, as she does, before patting her lap tantalizingly.

Shit.

Before you can protest, Paige is grabbing your hand and pulling you to sit down on your lap. Her muscular arms circle your waist in a way that has your pulse racing instantaneously. Despite her skinny build, she is so fucking comfortable, and she pulls you towards her chest, encouraging you to melt into her body. This had to look natural to work.

Satisfied with your positions, Paige gives Ice the green light to start the live with a nod.

“Hey y’all, what’s everyone up to?” Ice begins, giving you and Paige a sly nod. You struggle to hold back a snort at the absurdity of the situation you’d gotten yourself into.

KK, Azzi, and Ice take turns answering questions, showing off the tiktok dances they’ve been practicing and being straight-up obnoxious. After 10 minutes of sitting on Paige’s lap, the lack of action was making you feel antsy. The unknown of what was coming was eating at your anxieties.

Suddenly, KK reads out ‘We wanna see Paige,’ causing her to dramatically flip the phone toward where the two of you were nestled together. Paige gives a wave, smiling smugly, as if she could see the faces of the fans already.

Feeling shy all of a sudden, you bury your face in Paige’s neck, trying to disappear from the camera and the hooting girls holding it. You try to ignore the way Paige lets out a tiny moan as your lips accidentally meet the pale, smooth skin. You think you’d spend the rest of your life wanting to pull that noise out of her lips again.

Ice grabs her phone back out of KK’s grasp and continues asking questions, as if nothing had happened. You let out a breath, and come up for air, looking around at the girls.

Azzi looks pleased, watching the comments carefully and gauging the reaction of Paige’s loyal, and extremely passionate, fans. Out of reach from the camera, she sends an enthusiastic thumbs up, signaling that the first phase of the plan was a success. You just didn’t realize how successful it would end up being.

Phase two was deemed ‘Project Bow Bow Bow’ by KK. You had protested, saying, “what the hell does that even mean?” KK had just shrugged, so you went along with it.

It was decided that you and Paige had to be seen in public together, showing considerable amounts of PDA. “Ya gotta really sell it,” the girls had said with a laugh. Again, you just went along with it, but the idea of people seeing you with someone so loved by the public terrified you. What if people thought you weren’t good enough for Paige?

Foregoing your usual bar, Paige decides a house party would be a more intimate place to delude the UConn students into your fake relationship. Trusting Paige to take the reins, you accompanied her into a colossal, and if you were being honest, ostentatious, house just outside of the university’s campus. Your eyes widened at the stately staircase, its grandeur diminished by the drunk students already perched upon it. The noise of the house pounded through your ears, almost distracting you from the way Paige had intertwined your fingers together, rubbing soothing circles onto the top of your small hand. It was blissful.

The tall blonde leads you past hoards of students through the house. You’re too busy avoiding the looks you’re earning to question how Paige knows her way around so well.

A tall and muscular guy bumps into you, causing you to stumble in the heeled boots you wore. Paige glares at the kid, eyebrows furrowing harshly, and removes her hand from yours to wrap protectively around your waist. She pulls you in, making sure you are fine before continuing to lead you into the kitchen.

“Want a drink?” Paige asks, leaning into you, struggling to converse over the pounding noise of the bass.

You nod, grateful to have something to dull your overwhelmed senses. Paige pours you a drink, making you wince at the amount of vodka that ends up in your cup. She holds the cup to your lips, encouraging you to tentatively sip the beverage. You welcome the burn that slides down your throat, settling into a warm pool in your belly that makes you feel more relaxed in seconds.

As the kitchen fills up with numerous people, all looking for refills, you and Paige take solace in a sitting area in a more closed off area of the house. You are pulled onto her lap once more, a wink reassuring you that everything was going to plan.

You talk over the noise of the party, faces close together. One of Paige’s hands settles on your inner thigh, almost possessively. She rubs slow, teasing circles onto the sensitive flesh, the pressure deepening in a way that had you holding back moans of pleasure.

“I-I gotta run to the backroom. Be back in a sec,” you stutter, feeling suddenly appreciative that the darkness of the party hides your blush. Before Paige can even respond, you shoot off her lap, and run to the bathroom.

It takes a few tries to actually find the bathroom, accidentally walking on several horny couples getting it on in random rooms. As you lock the bathroom door, you sigh and slide onto the floor, feeling overloaded with the fake intimacy. It had been awhile since you had dated anyone, and stress of it all was starting to get to you.

You had to get it together. Taking a few deep breaths and giving yourself a pep talk, you walk back out into the chaos of the party. As you find your way back to where you and Paige had been sitting, you see some girl talking to her. Jealousy settles into you, before remembering you had a role to play; you were actually allowed to stake your claim on Paige.

Walking up to the two girls, you plaster a sultry smile to your face and take a seat back on Paige’s lap as if it belonged to you. Paige’s eyes widened in surprise; this week she had initiated nearly every touch between you two. Little did you know, she was secretly very pleased at this new behavior, arms immediately wrapping around you once more.

Without saying anything, the girl rolls her eyes and walks away You try desperately to keep up the act of nonchalance; the smirk that crawls over your face ruins it real fast.

No one bothers you the rest of the night, but you continue your act. You play with her fingers and she traces patterns onto your thigh. And despite the commotion transpiring around the two of you, the entire world disappears.

Paige drops you back off at your apartment that night with bright blue eyes, hazy under the spell of intoxication, but she was drunk off of more than just the alcohol. She places a small kiss on your cheek, lips grazing the corner of your mouth before bidding you a good night.

You spend the whole night dreaming about it, over and over again.

*You can now read Part 2 and Part 3

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #paige x reader #uconn women’s basketball #paige #fake dating #fluff

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nwjws · 1 month

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WAIT FOR YOU TO LIKE ME AGAIN - LSH

; SYNOPSIS - whether it be in the middle of the halls or during his election speech, heeseung's never passed up an opportunity to ask you out on a date. although you've always said no, that hasn't stopped the boy from trying again anyway - at least until senior year, when he suddenly stopped pursuing you, to your (and everyone's) bewilderment.

; PAIRING - heeseung x fem!reader

; TAGS - one-shot, fluff, slice of life, highschool au, stuco president!heeseung, vice president!reader, one-sided enemies to lovers ; WARNINGS - angst, mild swearing, light mentions of an abusive ex (not hee's or reader's)

; WC - 11.7k (including the bonus at the end)

; PLAYLIST ► blue butterflies (JIHN) ► line without a hook (ricky montgomery) ► making the bed (olivia rodrigo) ► comfort crowd (conan gray) ► love. (wave to earth)

; AUTHOR'S CORNER ! first fic after hiatus omg. also half the things in this fic rlly happened and the other half were google searches guess which ones are which 😝 i planned to post this on the 17th but i finished it just now and my brain is fried so here we goooo

you hated lee heeseung.

throughout the three years you've known him, he's been always the bane of your existence. the boy was constantly bugging you and pulling a new stunt to show off and get your attention. all of this just to ask you out on a date - something he's been doing practically every week since the age of fourteen.

seriously, after a hundred 'no's you'd think he'd learn to back off. and yet, he was still persistent in pursuing you.

at least, until your final year began.

see, you two had been competing against each other for the position of student council president at the end of last year. unfortunately for you, he was immensely popular; an actual threat. on top of being the captain for boys' volleyball team, he was class rep. and actively helped out teachers after school. students and teachers alike were drawn in by his hardworking yet casual nature and how easily he talked to others. despite the busy campaigns and rivalry, he still managed to somehow find time to ask you out, ending his final speech with, "and aren't all these qualities worthy of at least one date?"

of course he'd still find a way to make such an important event about asking you out. whoops and cheers echoed the hall, with almost everyone looking at you. everyone knew your history, with half the school on his side, cheering him on and urging you to say yes.

thankfully, the other half of the student body understood that no means no, and were more sympathetic towards you. after all, it's not like you were disliked or anything - you were as well known as h*es*ung.

you yourself had led the school to win several math competitions over the years, and tutored over ten students in your highschool career (get that money girl!). in addition, you were already on the council as the treasurer.

yet, it was his last sentence that one the people over and he'd been chosen as the president, with you as vice.

"just say yes. one date won't hurt," ningning had chuckled when you complained again, once she'd come back from her summer camp.

"my pride and reputation of always saying no will be."

"maybe he'll back off if you do?"

"no number of rejections has stopped him, how would a 'yes' do that?"

"maybe he'll realise you're absolutely undateable," she laughed at you, which had you throwing a pillow at her in retaliation.

you scowled at her before pulling out your phone and finding heeseung's instagram.

"thanks for meeting with us today, i'm sure you guys are excited to go home. first days are always tough." and with that, heeseung closed up the first meeting of the year.

conversation and the screeching of chairs filled the room as everyone began to pack up and leave, bidding goodbye to each other. as president and vice president, you and heeseung were left behind to clean up after the others and sort out other documents and such.

you half-heartedly expected another question of a date from him as you threw away the paper cups and teabags, but it never came.

instead, all he said was, "good job today."

you turned to look at him, with his bag slung over one shoulder and a hand stuffed into his pocket. he gave you a tight smile and left the room after that, reminding you to lock up before you left.

a little disconcerted, you continued the last few tasks while mumbling to yourself, "that ass, making me clean up and not..." you didn't finish that thought. it almost sounded like you wanted him to ask you out on another date. you thought he would though - he always did, but the first day of school passed without incident.

well, it's only the first day. he'll definitely ask you out tomorrow, or later this week. he's never missed a chance to do so during first week of school.

he hasn't asked you out at all. not in the first week, nor the second, or the third.

a whole month had gone by, and all you'd heard from heeseung was student council-related stuff. he hadn't even talked to you outside of meetings.

"did you two fight, or something?" ningning asked you curiously.

"i dunno?" you reply truthfully. you really weren't sure if what was going on between you was a fight or just a change in dynamics. it was confusing.

the rest of the school noticed too; the halls whispered when you passed by, wary and concerned looks thrown your way. someone even asked off handedly in conversation: 'are you two secretly dating, then?' everyone was walking on eggshells around you two.

"well, i guess you can rest now."

"huh?"

"you said you wanted him to stop, didn't you?" ningning raised an eyebrow at you. "who knows how many times you've complained about it to me in the past. it's made up like, half of our conversations in all our years of friendship."

"oh, right."

ningning tilted her head curiously at you. "what's with the disappointed tone?"

"what tone?" you rolled your eyes. "this is perfect! i can finally concentrate on my work without having to be afraid that i'll be distracted by heeseung trying to get me to date him again." after a moment, ningning hummed in agreement.

"and! those girls can stop giving me death glares. i mean - i've already seen so many triumphant looks from them, as if they've already got him in the bag."

"uh-huh," she said sceptically.

"they'd definitely say yes if he asked them out. unlike me. he can actually go and date for once, instead of embarrassing himself with me."

"riiiight."

"good. that's good! maybe he'll have a girlfriend by next week. and-"

"okay! i get it, i get it," ningning burst out laughing. "i've never seen you overthink about heeseung this much."

"i can't help it! what would you think if some guy who's been obnoxiously pining over you for years consistently suddenly stopped out of nowhere?"

"hmm... i'd hang out with him, break my leg, therefore obliging him to bring me to the hospital, manipulate him to visit me every day as i recover, be overbearing as hell so that he'd realise he doesn't want me anymore, and poof! he's gone."

you stared at your (possibly insane) best friend (how is she your best friend?!) in alarm.

"...i think it's time for another visit to the psych ward."

"hey!"

you two laughed yourself to stitches. she might be crazy, but she definitely got your mind off heeseung, if only for a little bit.

"you guys don't like sports, do you?"

everyone in the council shook their head.

"well, luckily for you, the student council members aren't be required to participate in sports day. we're only expected to volunteer and help the teachers."

you and the others cheered, relieved you wouldn't have to run yourself to death in the cold wind like last year. you might have been gifted in almost any skill and hobby you picked up, but sports was an exception.

"make sure you do help out, as i'll be taking note of who does what." then, heeseung said in a whisper, as if sharing a secret (who in this room he's hiding it from, you don't know), "and we'll hold a little party here. just us members." that definitely got everyone murmuring excitedly.

in the two previous years you've been in the student council, you've never seen one so lively and reactive to their president. you hate to admit it, but you too could feel your mood lighten up with them whenever heeseung was leading another meeting.

not to mention, he listened intently to the others' concerns, always suggested good solutions, and greeted everyone who entered with a cup of tea. he was a lot more considerate than you'd expected.

see, you hadn't really shared that many classes before. and the one or two you ever did, you avoided him at all costs so you never actually noticed him properly until it was forced right in front of your face.

"on another note, we'd like to take in suggestions for places to visit for an upcoming school trip," you started, garnering their attention.

as you began your part of the meeting, you could feel heeseung's intense stare, but every time you looked at him, he'd turn away.

it was a little frustrating, and you didn't know why. you couldn't figure out why you felt a little more upset every time he'd look somewhere else. was he ignoring you? but, this was a totally normal thing to do, right? so it's not like you could just ask him 'hey, why do you always ignore me when i look at you?', you'd look stupid.

when the meeting ended and everyone else had left, the awkward tension between you two was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

"make sure to lock up before you go-"

"did i do something wrong?"

heeseung stared at you, mouth frozen from being cut off mid-sentence.

"what? no. why?"

"i just- well, you-" you stuttered, unsure how to answer. "i guess, i'm not used to you not..."

"to me not asking you to be my girlfriend?" he laughed, but there was an odd lack of humour.

you shrunk into yourself. you should have just kept your mouth shut, now you sounded self-centered.

"nevermind," you huffed.

"i'm just doing what you asked. after the date, remember?" he left before you could say anything else.

after he'd gone, you couldn't even hear the silence he left behind - not when your thoughts rang in your ears. shame, embarrassment, rage. you hated him, heeseung.

but most of all, you hated yourself.

you avoided heeseung at all costs after that incident, at least, whenever you could.

previously, with the lack of interactions you two had, you felt like you barely ever saw him. but now that there was this weird air of tension between you, seeing him at three times a week after school for student council activities suddenly felt too often. every time you were alone with him, you were sure you were as red as a tomato; you developed a habit of letting your hair hide your red ears and hide your face.

when sports day inevitably came, you took over his responsibilities, seeing as he was still a part of the volleyball team. that made him the only one in the student council to join any sports activity, whereas the rest of you relaxed. (the privilege was all thanks to heeseung, who advocated for your guys' exemption from activities after everyone had complained, in return for volunteer work.)

"you haven't gone to the volleyball games yet?" soobin, the treasurer, asked.

"no. i planned out a route to visit all the activities, and the courts happened to be last."

he raised a sceptical eyebrow at you.

"really. it's not because you're trying to steer clear of our dear president or something?"

you cringed. "keep your nose out of our business."

"well, if it's affecting student council activities, isn't it our business too?"

"maybe, but i think your priority should be helping out mrs. shin over there," you pointed to the teacher walking across the field, carrying a bunch of equipment by herself. "'looks pretty heavy, it would look bad if our volunteer wasn't doing his work, now would it?"

soobin gave you a dirty look before leaving to help out, but not before bidding you "good luck!"

when you finally made it to the volleyball courts, you spotted him immediately.

he'd done a spike, the slap echoing so loud that it drew the attention of other students passing by. paired with the sound of feet skidding against the ground and the thumps of balls making contact with skin, you decided that you hated the courts. it felt like walking into a battle zone - always fearing you'll get hit by a ball when you're not looking. once, ningning got hit in the face by a baseball and her eye had actually been pushed inwards into her socket. of course, that wasn't on a court, but you weren't taking your chances.

unfortunately, you still had to make sure everything was going smoothly and take note of how many more rounds were left.

"excuse me! students who aren't playing aren't allowed to step into the courts," the teacher yelled at you from the other side.

"sorry, but i have to check on you guys, i'm part of the student council," you explained as you crept closer.

"but-"

"my bad, mr. jeon. i forgot to tell you to expect our vice president to come around eventually, since she's taking over my duties for the day," heeseung said as came jogging up to you two.

"ah, really? was volleyball taking up your time? you should have told me! i wouldn't want this to get in the way of your work."

"no, it's okay. i wanted to play, and she's very reliable," he gestured to you.

"if you say so."

"right," you started, finally looking at heeseung for the first time that day. you nodded your thanks to him, to which he gave a quick thumbs up to before rejoining the game.

"how many sets are left?" you asked mr. jeon, pulling out your pen to note down on your clipboard.

"two. this is our final game of the day."

"great! who won for the girl's team earlier today? i'm sorry i couldn't come earlier. i thought it might be best to come later in the day so i could get all the results at once."

"don't worry about it. the boys' games are always more interesting anyway - in the sense that it's a little more dramatic, what with all the force they put in their hits."

right at that moment, the resounding boom of the ball hitting a wall interrupted you two. geez, were these guys playing with a ball or setting off canons? why men are so aggressive, you'll never understand.

"perfect timing," mr. jeon chuckled. "well anyway, the U-16 girls won the first game, but the U-19 team won the second-"

you should have minded the ongoing game. it was the number one rule when you were on a court, but you foolishly got distracted with mr. jeon's own clipboard. of course, the moment you let your guard down, the ball flew your way, right when you were shifting your stance and was therefore a little more unstable than usual.

the volleyball hit you right in the chest, and had you falling to the ground. by instinct, you tried to catch yourself - but instead of your palms reaching out backwards to save you, it was your elbows that hit the ground.

"fuck!" you cried at the pain that seared through your arm.

"oh my god, are you alright?" the team suddenly ran up to you, with mr. jeon himself trying to help you up.

"i'm so sorry! i didn't mean to." one of the team members apologised.

"watch it next time," heeseung's stern voice came, but you were more focused on trying to minimise the pain as much as possible.

"where does it hurt? your elbow? can you try moving it for me?"

you did as mr. jeon instructed, but underestimated how much it would hurt.

"oh, that popping sound does not sound normal," heeseung commented.

"heeseung, take her to the infirmary."

he nodded and grabbed your unaffected elbow, asking if it was okay. you nodded and followed him as he started leading the way to the school nurse.

"does it still hurt?"

"if i move it, yeah."

"sorry about that."

"it's fine. it happens." a quick silence followed.

"well, you should go to the doctor later. the nurse probably won't do much, maybe just hand you an ice pack or something else useless," he joked. you laughed.

"yeah. she never really does much, does she? all those years of school just to hand us ice packs for a broken bone or twisted ankle."

"right! even the PE department is better equipped for more serious injuries."

"mhm."

another bout of silence. you were going to go crazy, either from the awkwardness of it all or the immense pain in your right arm. you looked at heeseung's back, and the sweat on his skin, soaking his shirt.

"hey, you can go back if you want to," you told him suddenly. "i can walk myself to the infirmary, it's not like i hurt my leg or anything."

"i know, but i'd feel more at ease if i saw you there myself. you're my vice president, of course i'm concerned."

well, you didn't know how to feel about that. you've been downgraded from his crush to coworker, but he still cares for you. so maybe that was a plus?

"i see."

as expected, you were given a cold pack for your elbow and sent to the local hospital. luckily, it was only a ten minute drive and the nurse accompanied you as a staff member drove you two there. heeseung watched you get in the car and leave, going back to his game.

the next time you went to school (two days later), your right arm was in a sling and you pretended like that wasn’t just the most embarrassing moment of your life.

“you’re ambidextrous?” heeseung whispered to you while everyone else was focused on the movie projected.

the council had waited for you to return before they held their (secret) party, since it just felt wrong to hold one when their vice president was suffering in pain and away. up until now, heeseung had only known you used your right hand from all those meetings.

he'd been paying attention to that?

“i’m a better writer with my right.”

“but you can still write well with your left,” he said, impressed. “you really are amazing”

you stared at him, the look of awe on his face, and the slight smile of his mouth. you really had no idea what to say, flustered by his comment.

then he seemed to realise what he was doing, and quickly turned to back to the movie.

“my mom wanted a left-handed daughter, and would always switch the pencil to my left hand when i was younger,” you told him. you had the sudden urge to spill a bit more of your life to him.

“ah, really?” he replied, still looking the other way.

“yeah, but at that point i was already used to my right. i ended up being able to write with both hands though.”

“oh, you can do that?” soobin joined in the conversation. you nodded at him with wide eyes, not expecting the sudden interruption.

“do what?” hanni asked.

“she can write using both her hands. isn’t she so cool?”

“really?” she gasped, looking at the pen in your left hand. “wow. our vice president is way cooler than the president himself.”

“hey!” heeseung exclaimed as everyone giggled.

“seriously though, she’s the whole package. smart, talented, and pretty?” soobin lowered his voice in a mock-whisper, “i can treat you way better than this guy," he joked, pointing his thumb at heeseung.

“alright, i think we need to get a new treasurer,” heeseung suddenly said. he pointed at the projection and yelled, “look! ernesto's actually the villain!” this successfully put everyone's attention back on the movie, all shocked by the plot twist. (you already knew, because coco was your favourite airplane movie.)

when the party finished up, heeseung actually stayed behind this time, and helped you clean up.

“oh, you really don’t have to,” you told him.

“it’s fine, it’s quicker like this. it’s not fair to make you clean up when you don’t have two working hands.”

you watched as he put away the heavy binders and throw out the trash, feeling a little off-put by the new scene. you thought that maybe you should just go home and leave him to lock up, but he wasn’t saying anything, so you stayed and kept him company. his presence was surprisingly comforting.

“you have the keys?”

“yeah,” you answered, trying to open your backpack.

heeseung made his way over and opened your bag for you. “here, i’ll get it. tell me where it is.”

“oh, uhhh in the pocket there. the left one.”

he found the keys and took them before closing the bag again. he waited for you to put it back on, but noticed you struggling a little with the books in your arm.

“why don’t you just put these in your bag?” he asked, taking them from your good arm and helping you slip your injured one through a strap.

“it’ll be really heavy if i do.” you then thanked him, gesturing for him to give back your textbooks.

instead, he kept them, even holding the door open and waiting for you to pass by first.

“where do you live? i’ll try to help you bring these home.”

“you really-”

“it’s fine, i promise. in fact, i insist.” at your expression, he added, “what kind of president would i be if i didn’t help out my vice?”

right. president. and vice president. not friends, not even classmates. just coworkers.

you rolled your eyes and let him help you. “i usually take the bus home. the one that goes to the museum.”

“ah, i know that one. i usually walk home, but i think there’s a stop that bus goes to that’s near my house. so let’s go.”

heeseung led the way, walking in front of you so you took the chance to observe him from behind.

recently, you noticed that although he always looked put together and clean at the beginning of the day, his hair and clothes felt more loose and casual towards the end of the day - particularly on the longer days where there were council meetings after school. you like this version of him; you feel closer to this heeseung, because it’s a side that only you (and the other members) got to see. it felt a little bit like a secret.

“sorry, looks like my stop is earlier than yours. are you fine with carrying these yourself from here?”

“yep.”

“alright. well then, okay.” when he stood up as the bus stopped, he turned to you and waved lightly. “bye bye!” it was a little endearing - the way he'd said it.

“see you.”

you immediately flopped onto your bed when you reached home (on your back side, of course). it was an… odd day, but you didn’t dislike it.

after a bit of a struggle, you finally fished your phone from your bag, sending ningning a message.

“i think you took my advice too seriously,” ningning chortled during class the next day. “when i said i’d break my leg i didn’t mean actually getting injured!”

you dragged your hand down your face, asking whatever being was listening to your pleas to make your best friend stop teasing you.

“it’s not like i sprained my elbow on purpose??”

“oh girl, you don’t have a single athletic bone do you?”

“you know what, maybe i need to learn to shut up and stop telling you things.”

“i know you won’t. when you’re with me, your attempt at a mysterious persona disappears…”

“are you saying i’m loud?” you ask in mock-offense.

“i’m saying you yap a lot,” she rolls her eyes playfully. “but seriously, who knew getting hit by a volleyball would lead you and The Heeseung finally talk. maybe that guy should’ve thrown one at you when we were fourteen.”

“when did you start rooting for him?” you raised an eyebrow at her.

“i just thought he deserved a chance,” she shrugged nonchalantly, but the way she turned away didn’t sit right with you.

“oh, okay,” was all you came up with.

“so, anyway,” she started again after a moment. “i stalked my ex’s spotify and-”

“oh my god,” you groaned at the mention of her ex. “ningning i told you before, you need to forget about him.”

“i know, i know. but i couldn’t help it! his user was just there on the side, and he was listening to memories!! by conan gray!! i had to see what playlist he was listening to.”

“you need to block his spotify.”

“but that’s so embarrassing. it’s never that deep.”

“if you can’t move on from someone who convinced you that you were nothing without him, then maybe it is that deep.”

ningning sighed. “okay, i’ll block him. but do you want to know what his latest playlist was about?”

“duh,” you laughed as ningning pulled out her phone, promising to block him after.

heeseung continued to help you on the way home every time you guys had a meeting, to your surprise. during those bus rides home, you learned way more about the boy in three weeks than you ever had in your three and a half years of knowing each other. you wondered what had made him like you so much before this if he never even really knew you.

“but i did,” he said. “i did know you.”

“did you really?” you asked, thinking he was joking.

“well, at first, i obviously didn’t. i just thought you were pretty, and fun to annoy. so i kept asking you out just to see your response. after that, i did begin to like you - on a superficial level, of course; i was fifteen!”

you listened intently, finally getting answers to a question you didn’t realise you’d been curious about for so long yourself. heeseung didn’t look at you at all during his monologue, but straight forward instead. so you were able to observe the way the gold light from the sun highlighted his features perfectly. (did he always have such a perfect nose?)

“and then there was a time where i just got tired of it. i wanted to stop, but then everyone would have thought it was out of character. so even though i didn’t even like you anymore - in fact, i hated you, i still kept asking you out. just for show. stupid, right?

“but then, one time, i accidentally ran into you at a shop with ningning. actually, more like i saw you and hid behind one of the aisles. but i heard you say you wanted to get something for your siblings too, and i was like, ‘wow, she actually cares about others?’ back then, i was convinced you only thought about yourself.

“another time, you posted one of your competition wins on your instagram, and i could see from the caption how much you adored your team, even tagging each one of them and thanking them individually. i had never seen someone put that much effort into a simple win before. i kind of felt like i wasn’t thankful enough to my own volleyball team,” he chuckled to himself.

“what really had me falling for you though was when you tutored my sister last year . before that, she'd been going through some sort of mental struggle, what with being bullied at school and coming home to our parents telling her she should be ashamed of her grades. i felt so bad that i couldn’t do anything, you know? her older brother; her protector, but couldn’t do anything against the very people who should have been protecting the both of us. when she’d been signed up with you though, she came home for the first time in a good mood - she was humming! and i asked if something good happened at school, and she told me all about her amazing tutor that assured her she wasn’t the useless being she thought she was. how she was finally beginning to understand school for once, and looked forward to your sessions. when i learned that was you, i wanted so surprised, but so grateful."

you had never felt so touched until now. somehow, heeseung’s words made you feel like you really were worth more than you believed.

“really? wait, who’s your sister?”

“lee haseul. the one with autism, remember?”

“ah yes, of course i do!” you said, the name ringing a bell in your head. “she was definitely a little harder to tutor, but once we found a way to use her fixation on cars and link it to what we were learning, it was smooth sailing from there.”

“i really have no idea how you did that, but you have no idea the impact that had on me and my family. sometimes she asks me what it’s like working with you,” he finally turned to look at you, a pretty smile on his face. your face burned at the adoration on his face, looking away yourself.

“i hope you tell her good things about me.”

“there’s not a bad thing to say.”

“really?”

“really.”

when heeseung left the bus that day, a part of him still stayed with you, as words that constantly replayed in your mind.

it made you feel a little self-conscious, knowing that he’d been watching you this closely all this time. you felt like your efforts were appreciated, and that they weren’t for nothing after all. while your admiration of him only begun after really seeing him work on the council, his respect for you had been brewing for way longer.

you went to bed thinking about him way more than you usually did (and you’ve been thinking about him more often since you sprained your elbow). you found yourself a little more excited for the next meeting day, when he’d go home with you again.

what would you guys talk about? will he tell you more of his thoughts? maybe his other interests? should you ask about his team and work? how was he handling all that? or perhaps you should ask about his sister. anything, really. you just wanted to talk. to him.

oh no, you sounded like a typical high school girl with a crush just now, didn’t you? (well, that’s exactly what you are - no shame in that, though!) if your arm wasn’t injured, you would have been punching your pillow and screaming into it right now.

oh, right - the elbow. for the first time, you really didn’t want it to heal. you wanted it to stay sprained for as long as possible, but that would be stupid, and inconvenient. but then, how else would you talk to heeseung outside of council work? it’s not like you two shared any classes, nor did you run in the same circles at school. the bus rides home were really the only times you got to really talk to heeseung, without all the eyes watching you two.

a small part of you began to dread the day your cast came off, because that would mean heeseung would stop talking to you again, right? he wouldn’t have any reason to riding home with you, and it would go back to that awkward thing you two had.

you sigh and turn over, careful with your arm, and finally fall into a fitful sleep.

“you’re staring at him again.”

that sentence had you flinching away and turning back to ningning, looking at you with a knowing glint.

“i can’t help it! his hair just looks so messy, obviously i’m going to notice.”

“his hair looks the same way it always does…”

“well- look at him walking around like he owns the place! he thinks he’s the shit, doesn’t he?”

“to be fair, he’s the student body president and captain of the volleyball team. maybe he is.”

“why are you defending him?!” you cried at all her replies.

“why are you trying to hard to hate him! we both know how much you li-”

“okay, okay, shhhh,” you shut her up by covering her mouth. really, she needed to learn to shut up. it’s not like the whole world needed to know about your massive crush on the boy you previously hated.

ningning pushed your hands away. “why are you more fixated on him today than usual anyway?”

"okay, first of all," you scoffed at her. "you make it sound like i'm always fixated on him."

"you are."

you rolled your eyes, then bit your lip after a moment of thought, knowing that whatever you were about to say would sound stupid(ly in love).

“it’s just that, i finally got my cast off this past weekend, so i can carry my books home perfectly fine again.”

“ah, and so he won’t be escorting you home anymore like he had been these past five weeks,” ningning finished your train of thought.

you buried your face in your arms, flushing bright red. “god, i sound like an idiot. i hate that i even thought that.”

the girl laughed at you, but patted your back consolingly.

“don’t worry about it. i don’t think heeseung’s gonna stop taking the bus with you just because you’re healed now. trust me, he’s one of the caring people i know.” was that a bit of sadness and longing? maybe you were interpreting her tone wrong.

“he probably will! it’s not like he used to take the bus home before i got hurt.” you peeked up at her. “is it wrong to ask you to throw another ball at me?”

“girl…”

when that day’s meeting finally ended, you and heeseung worked in tandem, tidying up the room before locking up, albeit a little more slowly. it was like both of you were waiting for something, but never said it out loud,

as you finally made your way out the school, you and heeseung turned to each other, hoping the other would say something.

“well-” heeseung started at the same time you said, “are you-”

after a brief moment of awkward silence, you guys burst into soft laughter at the silliness of the situation. what were you so afraid of anyway?

“do you still want to ride with me?” you finally asked him.

“if that’s okay with you.”

“of course it is,” you rolled your eyes playfully, falling into step with him.

“honestly, i thought you were going to go back to walking home after i healed up,” you confessed to him on the bus. “it made me kind of sad.”

“you’d miss me?” he teased, but there was excitement in his tone. he was elated.

“well, these rides are kind of fun! i wish i got to know you like this sooner. and then i thought we’d go back to the way we were before after this, but ningning assured me that it’d be fine.”

“ah yeah, ningning’s cool. wish i had a close friend like her by my side.”

it didn’t click until now how they seemed to be familiar with each other. when did heeseung and ningning become friends? in fact, when did they get a chance to even talk to each other?

“are you friends with her?” you tried to ask nonchalantly, like the topic wasn’t bugging you now. if those two were friends, why didn’t ningning mention it to you?

heeseung seemed to notice the shift in your mood though. “we’re just friends, promise. there’s nothing between us.”

that eased you a little, but that wasn’t really your main concern.

“that’s nice to know. but how did you become friends? i thought you two were was close as me and you were before all this.”

“oh! we met up at summer camp. it was purely by coincidence; my parents decided to send me to one last summer, and she happened to be there. i didn’t know anyone else, so i stuck by her for most of the two weeks we were there. we got to know each other then.”

ningning’s summer camp. last summer had been her third year there, so she wasn’t new or anything. the programme usually lasted two weeks, and they’d take away their phones during that time, so you’d have no contact with her until it ended.

but you’re surprised she didn’t tell you about it when she came back. after all, she had said it was ‘just as usual’, but seeing the new face of your best friend’s (previously) most hated person didn’t seem like nothing.

“huh.”

“i swear though, there was nothing between us back then.”

“i see.”

“i hadn’t talked to her much after my date with you-”

the date. ningning had been the one to push you to go. but why? even if her and heeseung became friends during camp, you and her were still closer. so why did she switch sides? you’d thought it was odd how she was suddenly encouraging you to say yes, when she’d spent the last four years sticking her tongue out at heeseung by your side.

the date, which had gone both so bad and yet so good. when everything had gone terribly wrong, but heeseung did everything right.

“i’m so sorry for being late!” heeseung panted as he ran up to your table.

“the one time i give you a chance, and you’re an hour late, lee.”

“i know, i know. it’s just that my sister-”

“i’m not hearing out any excuses,” you huffed.

you’d felt so humiliated waiting for him. you were shaking, your hair was frizzy with stress and your make up probably a little smudged too. the staff had even given you a free cheesecake slice out of pity. a pity cake.

“whatever, you’re here now, so let’s get this over with”

the waitress came over and gave you an encouraging look (which you ignored) and took your orders. when your meals arrived, you stared at the orange slices in the sauce of your orange chicken. although you hated them, you actually loved the sauce and chicken itself, so you ordered them every time you went to a chinese restaurant.

“you don’t like the oranges?” heeseung asked after seeing you pick them out.

“not really, no. i don’t know how to explain it; i love orange chicken, but i hate actually seeing the oranges on the sauce. it’s a little bit jarring for me, fruits and savoury foods together just don’t make sense to me visually, but when i taste them, they’re so good. just like pineapples on pizza, you get me?”

“i guess,” he thinks out loud. he uses his own chopsticks and starts picking them out from your plate, placing them onto his. “mind if i take these then? i love oranges.”

“i’ve literally seen you throw out a whole orange at school before.”

“you were watching?” he smiled sheepishly, a light pink tint to his cheeks.

“n-not particularly.” you look back down at your food, focusing on your task. you need to be more careful with what you say.

after a terrible start to your date, the rest of your lunch went okay. it wasn’t too bad, and you two started discussing your next plan: watching a movie.

“i’m not even a marvel fan,” you told heeseung after he said he’d gotten two tickets for spiderman: no way home.

“don’t worry, i’ll explain everything to you during the movie.”

“really? also, isn’t a movie a terrible date idea? we wouldn’t really talk to each other.”

“well, i will. i tend to talk a lot during movies.” he turned to you with an apologetic look. “i hope you won’t mind.”

“i’ll need it, won’t i?”

turns out you didn’t need his talking during the movie because you two didn't even get to watch it. a kitchen in the food court next to the theatre had gone up in flames, with the fire spreading to it’s surroundings. thankfully, no one died, but the damage was pretty severe, with half the mall having to close down until reparations are finished. and who knows how long that’ll take…

“oh! well, it’s a good thing i was a little late then, right?” heeseung tried to lighten up this messy date as you two passed by the mall which was now in ashes.

“i guess,” you mumbled. “so what now?”

“well, how about a little bowling?” he suggested.

you nodded, and he drove you two to the local bowling alley. you hadn't done it since you were eight, so heeseung showed you how to do it on your first turn.

“swing your arm like this,” he said, holding onto your bicep and holding onto the ball for you.

“you can let go, you know. i can carry the weight, it’s only the small size after all.”

“i know, but it’s just for demonstration. i’m going to let go of the ball now, okay? make sure to hold tightly,” he looked at you intently. geez, how could someone telling you to hold a bowling ball look at you like you hung the stars?

well, you didn’t really need his help anyway. your instincts kicked in and you managed to hit nine pins all together on your first, with similar numbers for the rest of the rounds. you even got a strike twice!

“are you sure you’ve never bowled before?” heeseung chuckled in awe.

“positive.”

“it always surprises me how easily you pick up things.”

“…thanks.”

and then you hit very few pins every single round after that in the second game.

you hadn’t been able to finish your second game however, because a heavy downpour suddenly came down.

“oh my god, the water is rising so fast,” you called over to heeseung as you looked out the glass doors of the main exit. if the floor hadn’t been lifted, the water would have started flowing in by now.

“crap, should we go home before it gets worse?”

“i suggest you should, kids,” the man behind the counter gruffed. he himself was getting ready to go, with the other customers running outside to their own cars.

heeseung looked outside and then at you.

“you can’t walk outside in those shoes, they’ll get wet.”

you were wearing pointy slip ons that would definitely get wet and soaked if you took a step outside, but it’s not like you had a choice.

“it’s alright, let’s just go-woah!”

heeseung picked you up bridal style and started making his way to his car, going fast but careful not to slip.

“hey! let me down!”

“no way, we’re almost there.”

you tried to fight him off, but he just held tightly until you reached the car, and he gently set you down into the passenger seat before backing out of the parking lot.

“are you crazy?”

“are you?” he retorted. “like hell i’m letting you get all soaked on our first date.”

you wheezed. “this date was so unlucky. who imagined everything that happened could’ve happened.”

“i know! and i wanted to make a good impression so bad. it’s like the world is against me,” he whined.

as you finally reached the front of your apartment complex, heeseung turned to you one last time.

“i’m sorry for everything that went wrong. please let me make it up to you.” he sucked in a breath, and you realised what he was going to say just a moment before he did.

“will you let me take you out on another date?”

yes. absolutely. this was fun. it was terrible, but i had a great time. wait, is this him asking me to be his girlfriend? i should ask. if he says yes, would i say yes? i don’t know, i don’t know him that well. i’ve only really only talked to him today. today’s date. everything went wrong. what if that was a sign? if i say yes, will all our dates just keep going to shit? no way, today was just an anomaly. we’ll be fine. but then when i go back to school, everyone will know. they’ll all look at me like they knew this would happen. they’ll clap him on the back and whoop in the halls, that’ll be so embarrassing. i hate that. maybe i should say no. but he was so sweet. it’s not his fault. but i wouldn’t be able to handle the attention. maybe i should-

“oh… i see.”

you looked up at him in confusion. but he wasn’t looking at you anymore. just straight ahead.

had you said something out loud? your thoughts were running wild, and you really couldn’t make up your mind.

“okay, well. have a good night,” heeseung said. when did he make his way to your door? even through the heartbreak clearly displayed in his voice, he still went out and opened the door for you. or maybe he was kicking you out of his car. was ningning right? had he thought you were undateable?

too much. too much was happening; so much happened today that you couldn’t form an answer. heeseung took your silence as a no (or did you actually say no? out of instinct?), which made your mind even more befuddled. you weren’t sure if you were even forming a coherent thought.

“oh, okay.”

you somehow made it out of the car and to the entrance of the apartment. turning back, you found heeseung’s car still there, with him watching you. you gave a weak wave, one he didn’t return, and punched in your house number.

at the last moment, you wanted to say something. anything, you didn’t know what. but when you around back to him again, he was gone.

you didn’t sleep at all that night. or maybe you did? you couldn’t tell. you’d been so worried over that last moment with heeseung, and had replayed it so many times in your head.

eventually, you convinced yourself that things were fine. that maybe you just imagined it. maybe it wasn’t that bad, and things would go back to normal at school.

definitely. he’ll definitely get back to his shenanigans when school started up again. there wasn’t some sort of finality in his tone - no you just imagined it.

you were wrong.

“why didn’t you tell me you met heeseung at summer camp?”

“how’d you-”

“he told me.” you looked at ningning intently. “but it should have been you.”

“i just- i didn’t think it was worth mentioning! you hated the guy, and it’s not like him being there would have affected you in any way,” she defended herself.

“sure, but i would have appreciated hearing it from you. you knew i’ve had a crush on him for months now, and you could have mentioned it to me?? summer camp was in july; it’s already march for fuck’s sake!”

“i wanted to! i just couldn’t find the right time. you were always busy with student council stuff, and whenever you were free you always talked about heeseung,” he huffed exasperatedly. “how was i supposed to just go, ‘by the way, your crush paid me to set you guys up!’”

your head snapped towards her.

“what?”

“what do you mean wh-” when ningning saw the look on your face, she slapped her hands over her mouth. “you didn’t know about that part...”

“no. i didn’t,” you seethed. “well, i’m glad i got to hear at least something from you.”

you stormed out, ignoring ningning’s pleas of ‘wait! hear me out!’

a fool, that’s what you were. somehow, ningning’s behaviour was even more clear. your best friend had been paid to convince you to say yes. who would have thought she was easily swayed by a few bucks?

and to think that heeseung was really that desperate to take you on a date, going so far as to pay someone close to you to get you to agree? wow, he really was a grade A asshole. sports day had just been topped by ‘being played by my own best friend and crush’ on your list of most embarrassing moments.

speed walking through the halls, you couldn’t stand to look at the pictures of you and heeseung’s faces on the student council board. it hurt so bad, that your feelings could just be easily bought. that someone you considered as family could sell you out like this. that the guy you’d fallen for would go to this length to ‘get you’.

at the bus stop, you saw the man himself smile brightly at you and wave, like he didn’t pay your best friend to get you to go in a date with him. one thing that never fails to amaze you is the audacity of men.

was it all a lie? was his kind-hearted and caring personality all fake? just another thing he did to get your attention? did you truly know heeseung like you thought? or just the 'heeseung' he wanted you to see?

you pointedly looked away, and decided to go home by foot. it was twenty minutes away by walking, but that was enough time for you to at least calm down a little and think about it more. sort out your mind.

you ended up skipping the rest of the week, convincing your parents you were sick (by putting a hot pack on your face and neck before they checked). otherwise, you might have actually broken down right then at school if you saw either heeseung or ningning.

"is everything okay?" soobin asked one day.

"yeah! everything's fine," you said cheerily. "why do you ask?"

"well, it's just that you've been sitting with us instead of ningning."

looking at soobin and his friends, you finally noticed the slight awkward air in the group because of your presence. to be fair, you weren't really close with them to begin with. or anyone. you spent most of your lunch breaks with ningning, but now that you've refused to talk to her for the last two weeks, you've been floating between different groups. sometimes, you even spent lunch in the toilets or the student council room.

but who else could you spend it with? you weren't ready to face ningning yet, and it was already hard enough tolerating heeseung during meetings. you didn't miss the worried looks from him, and he's tried to talk to you several times (which you always declined).

a sigh escapes you, and you massage your forehead. obviously, you needed to confront them both eventually. but not right now. whatever the answer is, you don't think you'd be able to handle it right now.

"do you want to talk about it?" soobin asked, a low volume only for you to hear.

"maybe later," you admitted. it would be a good idea to tell an outsider all of this, especially to soobin, who's always been a great advice-giver.

"there won't be a meeting this friday; seniors are having a rehearsal for the graduation ceremony then. the school wanted to have one before finals started," heeseung told the council. he looked around and asked, "anything else?" at everyone's silence, he nodded and closed the meeting. everyone bid their goodbyes and left, except soobin.

heeseung stared at you with anticipation and uncertainty. he'd given up on asking you to talk for a while now, but still waited for you to act first. he understood that you'd come to him when you were ready.

you looked up at soobin, looking at you with a similar expression, but one that had more curiousity and less anxiety.

"let's go?" he asked. you nodded and followed him out, leaving heeseung to lock up on his own.

you started doing that ever since The Incident. of course, you didn't leave all the clean up work to him, but you rushed your own responsibilities to minimise as much time you had to spend with him as possible.

"seriously?"

you and soobin turned back, finding the voice belonging to heeseung. he was standing outside the student council room, looking at you two, fuming. you could practically see the steam coming out his ears.

"you ignore and shun me away, refusing to talk about this issue between us, but talk to soobin about it instead? why are you dragging him into this??"

you rolled your eyes and turned to him fully, blood boiling. "i'm not 'dragging him into this'. i just wanted to talk to someone, is that so wrong?" you retorted.

"yes! you seriously think getting soobin's opinion is gonna help?"

"am i not allowed to talk to him now? are you going to pay him to stop talking to me too?"

"god, i know it was wrong of me, okay?! i'm sorry, it was shitty of me."

"your apology isn't going to suddenly make everything better. it won't take back what you did."

"i know. but please, talk to me. it's driving me crazy, how you go about acting normal with everyone but me. this whole year, did you not feel anything for me at all? do you really hate me?" he asked, his voice cracking at the end. "if you do, tell me now. so i can finally move on."

you stared at the boy, and the way the late afternoon sunlight hit him from behind. you could barely make out his expression, but maybe that was for the better. you probably wouldn't have been able to turn away and stand your ground if you saw the look on his face.

"you can't say that. not when you were the one who put yourself in this situation. did you think i would never find out? that you bribed my best friend into setting me up with you?" you heard soobin's surprised gasp on the side.

although you had your back to heeseung, you could still imagine what he looked like. the scene broke your heart, but not as much as it did when you found out that ningning had even agreed to such a thing.

after it was clear he wasn't going to reply, you started walking away, with soobin tailing you.

"wow... so that's what happened," was the first thing he said after a few minutes of silence.

"yeah."

"what a dick move."

"right."

you sighed, the adrenaline leaving you and now realising how loud you two had been. there weren't many students left at school, but a teacher or two probably heard the commotion. you'll be the hot topic of the staff lounge room for sure.

when you finally explained it all to soobin, he was quiet for a moment, thoughtful.

"i honestly never expected this from heeseung. it just- it doesn't seem like him."

"that's what i thought too. a little part of me wishes it's all some misunderstanding, but i don't know how it could be twisted any other way."

soobin hummed in agreement. "but, i noticed one thing from all of this though: you still call ningning your best friend," he pointed out. "despite everything, you've already forgiven her. or at least, you've begun to."

you bit your lip, realising he was right. you were beginning to accept it. she seemed genuinely sorry, and you could never hate her forever.

"it's just that - after getting to know heeseung, i felt like a terrible person for not giving him a chance. for always turning him down harshly. maybe i drove him to bribe ningning, maybe she got fed up with me too. i couldn't help but feel guilty for causing both of them to act like this.

"and i know this sounds wrong... but somehow, i felt a little relieved that i wasn't the only person in the wrong. that i wasn't the only asshole in this story - isn't that such a twisted thought?"

soobin melted when he saw your face, and pulled you in for a hug.

"of course not. it's alright to feel like this, you know? it's what makes us human, and what are humans without complicated feelings?"

and just like that, a dam was broken. you didn't realise how much you needed to hear those words until he said them.

it wasn't until may that you finally mustered up the courage to finally talk to ningning, and it seemed she had the same idea too.

"please, can we talk?" she asked at the same time you called her name.

"i was just about to ask the same thing."

once you two found an empty classroom, ningning started immediately.

"listen," she called for your attention. "i'm so sorry. you have no idea how many times i want to say it; i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry. it was such a light offer, really. i didn't realise the meaning it would have in the moment."

"what do you mean, a 'light offer'?"

"during camp, i had bought heeseung's sister some ice cream because she was being left out by the other kids. it was only like two dollars, but heeseung insisted on repaying. but the smallest bill he had was a five, so obviously i refused. but he kept asking me to take it and i told him that if i took it, i'd be the one in debt to him instead. so he made a light-hearted joke about getting you to go on a date with him, so that there'd be no hard feelings between us." she looked up at you pleadingly. "we'd been joking around, i didn't even realise the reality of his question. but when i got back from camp, i didn't think you'd actually go on one with him."

"you kept bringing it up; i trusted your opinion."

"i did, but i didn't really mean it. i was hoping you'd continue to say no, and i could just tell him something like 'sorry, i tried. here's your three dollars back.'"

"you didn't mean it?" you prodded.

ningning looked down at her hands and sighed. you could tell something was weighing on her.

"the truth is... i ended up catching feelings for heeseung. you know how i'd just broken up with my ex recently."

you thought back to her ex, who had isolated ningning from you and her other friends. how she'd come to school covered up even in the heat. the way she'd lost a worrying amount of weight. in all honesty, you should have tried to pry more; to break her out of this toxic relationship. but instead, you told yourself that there wasn't anything you could do, and left her to deal with the abuse on her own.

the guilt ate you, but you distracted yourself with work (and heeseung). god, you're so self-centred, aren't you?

"oh yeah, i remember very well."

"exactly," she says, hearing the loathing in your voice. "heeseung was the first person to show me genuine kindness after that whole affair. and so i found myself watching him over those two weeks, falling for him. and i thought to myself: if you didn't want him, then could i? i feel like the worst person ever, how could i even think that?"

her voice broke at the end, and you could see her silently crying; tears poured down her face but her sobs were inaudible. you'd noticed it was a habit she formed after getting with her ex. she'd never cried much before him, but she used to cry as loudly as you. you placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"it's okay. you're not the only one with shitty thoughts."

her wide eyes peered up at you, sparkling with tears. she wrapped her arms around you, and you reciprocated the embrace.

the way she'd hiccuped and the wet spot you could feel forming on your shirt yet the silent sobs broke your own heart, and you had to force your own tears down.

"i'm sorry too. i was too absorbed in my own life that i didn't pay enough attention to the way you were breaking. i mean, how did i not notice anything all this time?"

you wondered if her smile had ever wavered when she was with you, if she had to fake a laugh, or even force herself to talk to you this past year. dealing with her own problems on her own, while you vented to her yours. if she had, you didn't notice (someone give you a 'best friend of the year' award right now!).

as much as you wanted to hate her for liking heeseung, you didn't. you understood her feelings, especially after getting to know the boy himself. he brought a sense of safety with him wherever he went - so how could you ever hate your best friend for needing that security when no one else offered it to her?

"wait, can i ask you something?" you asked. ningning slipped from the embrace, nodding.

"if you liked heeseung, then why did you still ask me to accept his date offers? you could have just kept it from me, and told him that i said no. was it really just because of the three dollar 'debt'?"

"ah, right. well, when he'd asked me to get you to go on a date with me, it reminded me just how much he liked you. i don't think he'd ever see me the same way, not when his sights are so fixed on you. and after getting a taste of his hospitality, i felt that you deserved it too. that not only did he deserve a chance, but so did you.

"i realised that you needed someone like him. i couldn't give you the care and support he could, not when i'm too absorbed by my own problems. and i knew you were feeling guilty, and heeseung was the only one who could really understand you."

oh, you really were going to either jump off a cliff or hug her so tight her eyeballs might pop out. even when you neglected, she still thought about you through it all. heeseung was wrong, he made you out to be this caring person who thought of others, but that person was really ningning.

"but, what about you? you need care and support too."

"it wouldn't work out between us, he's not the kind of person i want. he was just the first kind person in a while. i need to heal and learn to be more independent myself."

a quiet moment followed, with the both of you lost in your thoughts and emotions. you hadn't felt this lonely in so long, and a weight had finally been lifted from your shoulders.

"so what are you going to do? have you talked to heeseung yet?"

"no, not yet. but he's waited four years now, he can wait a little longer. i just want to spend time with my best friend right now."

'a little longer' ended up being another month. when finals started, the school let the older years off on study leave to focus on exams. so you didn't end up seeing heeseung until the final graduation rehearsal.

as president and vice president, you two were expected to perform a speech and be next to each other the whole ceremony. so you decided it was the perfect time to confront him then.

"heeseung, wait," you called, grabbing onto his wrist as he walked by.

he immediately paused in his tracks, whipping around to look at you with wide eyes, surprised you'd finally decided to talk to him. you glanced at his friends behind him, all with a mix of curious and knowing looks.

"oh, uh, you guys can go ahead," he told them, and they left you two alone.

"i made up with ningning..." you told him.

"i see! that- that's good. im happy you guys did."

"...and i'm sorry. for making a big deal out of nothing. for making you wait so long. you're seriously one of the sweetest people i've ever met. you didn't deserve that."

heeseung shook his head in protest. "no, don't say that. i'd wait for you as long as you want, even if you never accept me. and it was a big deal. i'm guessing she told you?" you nodded. "it was fucked up of me to even make a joke like that. in fact, it was worse than if it was a genuine deal. and i can't just buy your love with three dollars, you're worth more than that." you tried to say something, but heeseung continued.

"i screwed up, i know. but i never lied to you. if there's one thing i've always been sure of, it was loving you. don't you ever feel like you have to love me back though, it's not something you can force. but i'll always have your back. no matter how many fights, how many fuck-ups, or if i ever lose my feelings for you - which might never happen. you can always fall back on me for support."

your eyes watered at his sincerity, feeling unworthy of his kindness.

"i don't deserve that though. ningning does."

"you both do. listen to me," he said, grabbing onto your shoulders and forcing you to look up at him. "don't you ever dare say that you're undeserving of love and support. every one does, but i know who you are; i know how hard you work and your honesty. and i want to guarantee you a home with me, if you ever need one. because i love you."

wow. you've cried so much these past few months, and you're sure you're about to start again. heeseung wiped your tears with his thumb, and your heart swelled.

a year ago, you would have never even thought of accepting heeseung's feelings. a few months ago, you thought you had just missed him, finally reciprocating his feelings right as he lost them. but now you were finally on the same page, and you didn't want to waste another moment.

"i love you, heeseung."

graduation day was a busy one. you had to start getting ready earlier than other students in order to prepare your speech and arrive before everyone else. it was stressful, yet rewarding, especially as you crossed the stage and finally received your diploma.

when you and heeseung were set to give your pre-written speeches, you almost didn't notice the way everyone looked motivated during his, being captured by his words yourself. you hoped to be able to instil that inspiration in others one day.

towards the end of his speech though, he did something you didn't expect, but shouldn't have been surprised by.

"so toward my fellow graduates and our families who've supported us all this way, let's celebrate our achievements and strive to follow our dreams," then turned to look back at you, pulling a bouquet of flowers from under podium, which he'd blocked from your view this whole time with his body. "as i will be with mine. so i'll ask one last time: would you let me have the honour of being your boyfriend?"

you rolled your eyes, but couldn't hide the smile on your face. with the cheers echoing throughout the hall, you suddenly got a sense of deja vu, remembering his election speech the previous year.

oh, how much things have changed since then.

"if only you'll let me be your girlfriend."

; BONUS

with exams over and the heatwave taking over the country, you had decided to spend the day at heeseung's house and try to cool off.

"are you and ningning going back to camp this summer?" you asked, hoping he'd say no. having zero contact with your best friends for two weeks sounded like hell. not even a good morning or good night text? shivers went down your spine at the thought.

"i think i'll be busy with college apps. not sure about ningning though."

"really?" you gasped, turning over to look at him. "so basically i get to spend the whole holiday with you."

heeseung grinned at you excitedly, thinking the same. then, his face suddenly lit up, as if remembering something.

"speaking of ningning, i just remembered how she sprained her leg last year. she spent the rest of the week in the infirmary."

"really? she was fine when she came back though."

"it was minor, so it only took one week, in the middle of those two."

suddenly, you remembered something too.

"i'd hang out with him, break my leg, therefore obliging him to bring me to the hospital, manipulate him to visit me every day as i recover, be overbearing as hell so that he'd realise he doesn't want me anymore, and poof! he's gone."

"no way..."

"what?" he questioned.

"did you have to visit her everyday?"

"oh. yeah, to give her her medicine and meals. the other kids had basically made me their makeshift nurse, since i treated them better than the nurse apparently," he laughed at the memory. "i caught the old lady glaring at me several times - maybe she thought i'd stolen her job?"

you laughed with him, but not only because of his story. you couldn't believe ningning's oddly specific solution had actually come out of experience. you were so going to bully her for this later.

"should i glare at you too, then?"

"hm?" he hummed confusedly.

"for stealing my heart."

heeseung blinked at you for a moment, before breaking into a wide smile and suddenly attacking you with tickles (a habit you learned he tended to do when he was flustered, specifically by you).

giggles escaped you, laughing so hard that it began to hurt. if this is how it's going to be with heeseung, you'll grow abs in no time.

"okay! okay, stop-" you cackled.

he obliged, helping you sit back up. then he tucked your hair behind your hear and placed a quick peck on your lips.

suddenly shy, you looked away with a smile facing the fan as it blew air onto your face, pushing your hair back. when you looked back at heeseung over your shoulder, you were surprised to find him beaming at you with awe on his face.

"you're beautiful, you know?"

"only when i'm with you."

"nope. you're always stunning."

"okay."

"you don't believe me?"

"i do."

"good. i'll keep saying it anyway, to make sure you do."

you stared at him for a moment that felt like hours, just staring into each others eyes. you then went in for a hug, toppling over the other and staying in that position - just you two cuddling on his bed.

sure, it was really hot today, but somehow the warmth from his body was more comfortable than anything else. you couldn't have asked for a more perfect moment.

; AUTHOR'S CORNER ! is it obvious i've never had a big injury before... anyway i hope u guys enjoyed this! i wrote this really quick and suddenly like it js came out of nowhere lol but for now i'm proud of it :)

; TAGLIST - @naespas @okwonyo @sleepdeprivedline @lcvclywon @llvrhee @hommyy-tommy @sumzysworld @syazzzlisa @jiawji @cjayius @desistay @dimplewonie perm. @lovelovelovebts @miyseung @babyy-bambii @haechansbbg @gweoriz @maoyueze @manooffline @yizhoutv @rikibun @wonniversity networks. @kflixnet @k-films @/k-labels

#·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ mi's works #kflixnet #k-labels #k-films #enhypen #enhypen x reader #heeseung #lee heeseung #heeseung x reader #enhypen heeseung #heeseung fic #heeseung fluff #heeseung angst #heeseung scenarios #heeseung imagines #heeseung fics #heeseung oneshots #heeseung long fics #ੈ♡˳ wait until you like me again

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cherry-leclerc · 2 months

Text

stolen sweethearts ☆ cl16

genre: humor, angst, yearning, pining after three years so maybe slowburn??, fluff, second chances, whipped!charles

word count: 4.3k

Everything that leads to your wedding day and ends up with a knock on your door from your ex-boyfreind and an infamous letter.

req!...longer than intended, whoops! enjoy, anons :)

inspired by this !

“You’re making a mistake—”

Your eye twitches in the slightest, glossy lips curling into a snarl. “Shut up and be quiet.”

“What?”

Looking down at your boyfriend, dressed in Armani from head to toe and a blank expression, you wince apologetically. You grasp his hand tighter, knuckles becoming white, and smile widely, tears brimming the corner of your eyes. “Not you, honey!” A wet chuckle escapes when he visibly relaxes. “Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes.”

The engagement party was a pleasant surprise, filled with congratulations and early wedding gifts. It also brought out a large group of your friends from hibernation. “Felicidades,” Carlos says with a teasing smirk. “I truly never thought I’d see the day you settle.”

You bit the air. “Ha ha. That was the old me. New me is a completely changed woman thanks to true unconditional love. It’s crazy, try it out some time,” you shoot back.

The Spaniard simply scowls and bows away, returning to his earlier conversation. You consider yourself lucky—as if you committed a successful heist and somehow got away with it. He was handsome, with bright eyes, dark hair, and tempting lips. There truly wasn’t a single flaw to your now fiancé. And if there were, no one ironically saw it but Lando.

“You’re making a—”

“Mistake?” you finish off his sentence, sighing and rubbing your temples. “So you say.” You were in the middle of ordering yourself another piña colada when he hounded you like a madman. The Brit blows out with a tired expression, as if he were giving up on all of humanity.

“Yes. Yes. A thousand times yes.” Angling your head to aim a dirty glare, you silently flip him off as he uses your earlier words against you.

“Aren’t you tired, Lan? It’s been three years, let it go.”

The blue eyed boy musters a threatening look and then rips your sweet treat away from your grip, immediately claiming ownership. Your brows fly up with an offended scoff. He chugs it all down before shaking his curls adamantly. “No, I will not let it go. Bloody hell, you’re one stubborn gal—you can’t go through with this.”

For the shortest second, a ray of hesitance strikes your face when you spot your fiancé, happily indulging in a round of shots with Carlos, Max, and Daniel. The group laughs with amusement over something he says. Your lips wobble, turning back to your friend, shooting lasers. “Why not? And please don’t say—”

“Charles.” Somehow, even with the mention of his name, your world still manages to spin off its axis, alarming your remaining sanity. Last time you saw the Monegasque was quite the day, ending with regretful words and inferior decisions. Lando grimaces when you let out a shaky breath. “You know you haven’t gotten over him. And I can guarantee you that this…” He spins his index finger around the flashing room. “Will not make the difference you're hoping it will.”

Have you made your Christmas list? I told you I need it at least two weeks prior. I work well under pressure, but for God’s sake, honey, this is too much. Charles chuckles, cleaning his pair of Ray Bans against the hem of your skirt. You sigh.

Oui. Making his way over to his duffel bag, he retreats a crumpled up piece of paper. Oh, um, shit. The green eyed boy cringes with embarrassment, pouting modestly. You swallow the giggle sliding up your throat when he frowns furthermore. I swear I had it! It must've gotten crushed with all my stuff. You know what? Charles strolls over to the flight of stairs. I’ll just make a new one, give me a sec.

As soon as he leaves, you yawn, stretching out like a cat. You can’t help the fluffy feeling; Christmas always adds to it. But something about this one felt distinctively different and you couldn’t place the reason why.

Your orbs flicker across the dimly lit room before falling back to the thin piece of paper. Patting your palms on your thighs, you get up and delicately open it up, curiosity overflowing. It shouldn’t have mattered, he was going to re-write it anyways.

His calligraphy had always been messy, and yet you always—somehow—understood; from the start of his sentences to the final dot. But this had to be the one and only time you wish you weren’t so comprehensive.

I’ve been thinking about us

A lot recently, actually

I’ve had some thoughts over these past few weeks and

I think we should just end things.

You bat your eyes, already feeling the pressure forming behind, stinging harshly. Was this meant for you? For you to find? Had it been intentional the moment he pulled out the fucking note? Would he just not come back and was it all an excuse?

But he does. And his pale face answers all of your questions.

Oh fuck, what have you done?

Rage fuels within you as you briskly brush away the acid sliding down your burgundy cheeks, heat rushing through your body. What have I done? What the fuck is this bullshit, Charles?

The Monegasque instantly rushes over, trying to get ahold of the piece of paper. You rapidly pull it away and force a step back as you let out a wet chuckle. He winces at the cold sound. Why would you do that? Why did you do that?

So you’re not denying it? You wrote this? You knew he had, his writing was imprinted into your brain like a manuscript you had professionally studied endless hours.

His skin only loses more color with every passing second. I’m not trying to blame you! I did. I did write that—but that was so long ago, you have to believe me, and I can explain! He kneels down, silently pleading you to bless him with a spare minute. Just let me explain it all to you.

I never took you for a poet, you bitterly spit out as you continue skimming through the full page. You have a lot on your mind—a lot. Scanning his desperate state, you can’t help but let out a soft whimper, scrunching your nose.

I’m not, shit. He grips your thighs from where he is and lets out a set of shaky breaths. Do you remember when—

I don't want to remember, you let out. I just simply want to forget.

He can creepily hear the way your heart is breaking and how his follows along with every word, puncturing his soul. You don’t even notice his coming arm, taking half of the note away and you irritatedly pull back, causing it to rip in half.

That does it, bullying you down to the floor where you start to cry. Out of anger, out of betrayal, out of everything. The green eyed boy tries to soothe you, mumbling into your hair but you’re too busy zoning out that you don’t catch a single confession.

Leave.

Charles flinches; you can feel it as he presses close to you. What?

He almost doesn’t recognize you when you furiously push him off, crawling back with a sense of suffocation. Pain crosses his eyes as he watches you create distance. I don’t want you anymore. I don’t want you here anymore—leave.

Anyone who knows Charles would know that he never gave up. He either spoke down on himself and pitied for a while, but never ever gave up. So this was a first. A tough pill to swallow.

If that's what you want me to do, then…okay. He stands up firmly, but inside he’s terrified that his limbs might call out for the day. But I love you. So don’t ever ask me to stop. And he walks out of your life after evilly twisting the knife.

With a new note and ring box deep inside his pocket.

Despaired eyes flicker over to where Charles eases into a conversation with Carmen and George, occasionally clenching his jaw. You hadn’t invited him—that’s just absurd—but he had gotten word from blabbermouth Pierre and you didn’t have the solidity to say no. From the looks of it, he didn’t want to be here either.

“Well I’ve got news for you, my dear friend, I love Hudson, so climb on board because this is happening…” Your voice trails off the second your ex looks up, as if he felt your eyes drawn onto him. Normally they’re dazzling and filled with joy, but the unfamiliar injured expression is like a punch to the gut. Your conscience calls you out on it, slapping you back into reality. Turning to Lando, you purse your lips tightly. “Who even is Charles?”

“God! When I saw Charles had showed up I just wanted to dig up a hole and never come out! Who would willingly go to their exes' engagement party?” Like a spinning top, you fume at Kika whose eyes shine at the sight of you, even after barking. “You should have warned me Pierre would do that. God, I hate that jerk sometimes.”

The Portuguese hums. “Me too…” You flick a questionable brow. Kika giggles, fixing your white gown, feathering it out like a dove. “I know, I should have! Bad friend, bad friend,” she childishly says. You can’t help rolling your eyes, returning your attention back to your reflection. “But if we’re being truthful here, someone should have warned Charles.”

“What are you talking about?”

Taking a quick sip of the complimentary champagne, she nods enthusiastically. “No one gave him a heads up. He thought it was just any other ordinary party—nowhere near a proposal.”

Your stomach churns, mortification taking over at the sudden report. Charles’ reaction was odd, but you couldn’t help filling up with satisfaction, climbing onto your high horse when you saw it. Never in a million years did you ever consider that being a surprise to him too. Hellooo? Coughing awkwardly, you swat her hand far away. Kika yelps.

“Yeah, well he deserves it.” You chug down the rest of her drink in a matter of seconds. Her wide eyes grow larger as she nervously giggles. “No one ever gave me a warning either.”

You were never one for being superstitious, but if anyone ever taught you something valuable, then it would be to never make contact with the groom before the wedding ceremony. He probably didn’t know any better—it of course wasn’t intentional—but that doesn’t stop your heartbeat from spiking up when you spot your fiancé sauntering over to where to stand.

“What are you doing here?” you hiss. Hudson furrows his thick brow. What are you talking about? I came to see you. You look fucking hot by the way. Squeezing your eyes shut, you shoo him, expensive jewelry clinking against one another. “Listen, that’s sweet and all, but you need to leave or else you’re going to ruin it!” You already did, the devil on your shoulder growls. You try relaxing, but can still feel the tenseness shifting between your shoulder blades. “Hudson, I’m dead serious, go.”

The stubborn brunette raises his arms in defense, mouthing a quick wow and walking back out. Were you being a tad bit colder than intended? Was there a better way to deal with the unwanted interaction? Yes. Probably. That’s what you tried to convince yourself because you knew the longer you pondered, the quicker you would realize that Lando was right.

You were making a mistake.

Charles isn’t any better off. He twists and turns the entire night, debating whether he should attend the occasion he knew would most likely make him flat line, but the curiosity definitely got to him. He always wondered what type of dress you would exclusively choose, perfect in every detail. Your hair, your heels. Your smile. Because they weren’t all the same. There was the kind that would sort of slip to a subtle, shy frown when he would compliment you, so he often saw lots of those. Or the kind that would cause your eyes to crinkle—he witnessed those when he would tickle you half to death, laughing loudly as tears would start to form. What he would kill to see you beam back at him once again…

But naturally, he talked himself out of it. What good does it do for him? The following morning, as he blinks strangely at the white wall, he starts to reminisce to himself. Like your first date—which was originally for both Carlos and Isa—but you both weaseled your way in. Or the time he taught you how to skate; only to remember he doesn’t know how to skate. He kept apologizing as the doctor secured your arm with a bright pink cast, but you only laughed, begging him to be the first to sign it. You were probably high off of meds, but still.

A peculiar feeling washes over as he spots an old shoe box. He almost dashes out of the arctic room when he realizes what it holds, but deliberately crunches down to open it.

And he knows what to do.

“He wants to see you,” Lily shrieks, peeking out into the hallway, then jumping back in. The teal dress was doing wonders for her skin tone, but you couldn’t help the agitation. Tell him I don’t want to see him. We have a whole lifetime to do that, you groan, slipping onto your heels.

Your bridesmaid clicks her tongue, widening the entrance as you hold back a much needed gasp. “I think you should tell him yourself…”

“I only need a minute,” Charles stammers, a thin layer of sweat coating his sharp nose. You’re too afraid to speak, so you robotically nod as you watch everyone scurry out, giving you two privacy. The twenty-six year old shyly gets closer, gently pinching a piece of paper in between his clammy grip. Your heart stops. “I walked beneath a ladder…on my way here,” he clarifies. You blink, long lashes fluttering like a fan. “I don’t think I’ll ever learn.”

If I had known you were this manly, I would’ve married you a lifetime ago. It slips out like a force of nature before you can stop yourself as your boyfriend halts from his task. The day was soon ending, late November, and you were both working together on painting the bedroom your dream shade. He had tried talking you out of it because it was simply—just white— but you had hounded him until he agreed. Now he stands here with a white coloring staining his dark gray shirt and you’ve never been happier.

Is that something you might want? Charles tries to play it cool, picking up from where he left off, lips itching into a goofy grin. To get married?

You’re almost glad he’s not facing you since you're as bright as a tomato. I won’t lie, I’ve definitely thought about it. You take a sip of water, suddenly caught with a dry throat. Could be nice.

The Monegaque flips around to face you, placing the paint roller down and strolling over to where you sit criss-cross. You visibly gulp; electricity slipping into the small room. It would be, wouldn’t it? His pink lips ghost over yours as you lean in a bit.

Yeah…

Could kiss you anytime I want… Kiss. Fuck you anytime I want… Another kiss. My fucking dream.

You moan against his touch, melting away like an ice cream sundae. I-I-I really think we could do it; be married. You had been together for so long now, you’re honestly surprised you hadn’t had this conversation any sooner. I would choose that exact same shade for my dress, you squeal, pointing at the wet wall. He hums. Not eggshell, not timid white—whipped cream, if you will.

Ahhhh, smart girl, he teases, nipping at your bottom lip. You practice this shit when I’m not around?

You laugh. I’ve been taught all kinds of tones from birth. My father was a painter himself, remember?

Of course I do, mon amour. He only created the best piece of art yet, he announces with a cheshire smile, watercolor eyes pointing down at you. You blush.

You’re such a klutz, you would probably do something stupid like walk underneath a ladder on our wedding day. You only do it every time, you say, wiggling out of his grip as he tickles you.

I swear I don't do that shit on purpose, it just happens, okay?

Pressing your nose against his, you cozily sigh. As long as we don’t see eachother until the actual ceremony, then I won’t be too upset.

Is that a promise?

You nod. That’s a fucking vow.

“You called it.”

Shifting uncomfortably, you chuckle when you nearly tip over. “Yeah, you’ve always been like that, but don’t think about it too much—it’s not like it’s your wedding.”

He clenches his sharp jaw. “Sure, but bad luck is bad luck, no? And I think I’m quite familiar with it.”

His words shouldn’t impact you so much years laters, but they do. Perhaps it’s due to his sorrowful stare, or his anxious tick, but it kills you just the same way it did that December night. You let out a light shudder, blinking away tears. “What do you want, Charles?”

“I wrote you a letter.”

God—a heartfelt note is the last thing you wanted and today was not the day to receive it either. Or ever. Not when it came from him. “I’m sorry, but it’s a bit too late for that. I’m about to be a married woman in approximately an hour.” You narrow your neat brows, flawless makeup shimmering against the sunbeams. “What gives you the right to walk back into my life, get shit off your chest for your own sake, and just for you to do what? Leave?”

You’re not being fair; not completely, but you can't help it. For the longest time, you thought you were over it, but clearly not. Charles licks his rosy lips, closing the gap between you two. “This isn’t something I just came up with.” He extends his arm out. “I wrote this three years ago.”

You inhale sharply, suspiciously eyeing the white paper. Please, just read it. Back then you could never turn him down, as much as you tried…

And it appears like today wasn’t any different.

It’s almost hilarious to think about how much you cried on your proposal date and how much you are now. You were a light rain at best when Hudson got down on one knee, but Charles stands here, tall, and you’re a complete waterfall.

“Y-you were going to ask me to…” A headache comes rolling in as you let out a wet cry. “This isn’t true; it isn’t real. You wrote this today and came here to fuck with me.”

The Monegasque shakes his head in panic, blood painting his higher cheekbones. “No—listen; the first letter you found, I did write that.” You grimace. “But I swear I took it back immediately. It’s just that you were getting so much hate during that time, and you would always cry, and then you’d say you were never crying…You were in a really dark place. Do you remember?”

How could you not? You knew not everyone was going to love you for dating one of the top Formula One drivers, but you never expected to read such brutal messages either. They were descriptive, and cruel, and ruthless, and it crushed you more than you’d like to admit. Which was fucking stupid since there was always a rather large community that loved and adored you, and Charles loved and adored you—and yet.

You release a shaky breath, desperately rubbing your eyelids. Lily would probably throw a fit at your now snotty and smudged makeup, but you couldn’t really think too deeply about any of that right now. “What does that have to do with anything?”

The brunette cradles your face and you hate when you lean into his warm touch. “I just wanted all of that to end; for you to feel better. And I could never actually say the words, so I drafted a letter, and I’m so fucking sorry, mon amour.” The tides crash inside your chest, getting harder to breathe. “It has been my biggest regret. Hurting you.”

He did more than hurt you; he broke you completely. Like a porcelain doll, like a trophy, like a mirrorball; it ruined you. But you know he knows that when his eyes slowly turn red. “But then I thought to myself, it doesn’t have to be that way! W-we could restrict comments, I could post something and stand up for the woman I love, and I could reassure her by vowing the most sacred thing there could ever exist…And I sat down and wrote this letter.”

If you thought Charles loved you before, then you’re a fool. He was utterly infatuated, devoted, obsessed and drowning in fervor. This letter may be old, slightly cutting loose around the edges, but it’s pinned as straight as can be. Not like the last.

“My only mistake was writing the first, and to even consider giving up on us. My best decision has been writing the second, and promising to stick by you the way I knew I was put on this Earth to do.” Charles carefully draws you in closer. “But I know nothing could ever fix the shit I’ve put you through, but I’m begging for the chance to try.” He kisses your temple and you relax against his lips. “I’m fucking desperate—just one.”

He slips out his original ring box and shines the gem back at you. It’s smaller than the one Hudson had given you, thinner too.

But it has you written all over.

A dizzy spell hovers over as you blink hastily. Charles doesn’t dare to breathe, waiting for you. “This isn’t…I just…” You bite your lower lip, glossy orbs flickering towards the band and then back at him. “Thank you for taking the time to apologize and clear things up; I really needed that, but I can’t do this.” You step out of his embrace, immediately freezing as if you were spending a winter in Iceland. His heart palpitates hysterically, green eyes skimming your features. “This isn’t what I had in mind—this isn’t what’s supposed to happen,” you press sternly.

“You’re right; it’s not.” Though you had just said the same, hearing him repeat it jams the knife deeper into your heart. You can hear chaos ensuing down the hallway, your friends chirping happily at one another. Contrary to what was going on in here. “It’s not because you can’t marry him. Because you know you don’t love him the way you say you do.” He laughs. “You tolerate him at best! I saw the way you avoided him getting down on one knee that day. You kept running off until you couldn’t anymore.” You burn up. “And who was the first person you looked for as he slipped that ring onto your finger? Me.”

“You’re paying too much attention to detail,” you retort, almost snarling.

“Sure, and that’s eggshell.”

It’s like a slap to the face. Your blurry vision focuses onto your dress for a second before snapping back up. “It’s whipped cream. The way I wanted.”

The Monegasque rolls his watercolor eyes, nostrils fuming. “Open up your eyes and see—It’s. Eggshell. Nothing about this is anything you ever dreamt of for your wedding! From your dress, to your ring, to your fucking fiancé!” He huffs. “This ring is all I could have afforded back then, but I would have sold my heart to get you a fucking star if that’s what you wanted…But you’ve always liked the simpler things. You always said you didn’t need a huge diamond to prove your devotion. Look at you now,” he says, signaling to your ring that swallows your hand whole. “All of this is fake.”

You’re sobbing now. You’re bubbling with anger. Because he was here, with you, out of all days. Because he was still the same man who broke your heart and stitched it back up.

Because he was right.

Brushing your nose with the back of your hand, you stare up weakly, defeated. “What do you want me to do?” you whisper, brows drawn together as he folds over completely over your goddess state.

“Don’t marry him and come with me.”

Though you knew that was what he wanted from the moment he walked past the door, it still knocked the last breath you held.

Things were never easy with him. There were constant fights—but that never seemed to matter by the end of the day. There was constant hate—but you always braved through it because you needed him.

And he steadied you. Charles was the first one to apologize, even if the majority of arguments weren’t his fault. Charles was the one who despite crushing his own heart, he wrote that letter to keep you untouched from his fans, from the media.

The letter hurt; like a motherfucker—and it would take a while to forgive…

But there’s no one else you would rather work through with it than with him.

Smiling softly, you nod, almost as if you can’t believe you’re actually doing this. Charles lets out a heavy exhale, laughing as he hugs you tightly, leaving you like a fish out on land. But you’re giggling through it all. “I have to talk to Hudson first, oh God, I have to talk to his family…” you shriek, pale and mortified.

“You know,” he starts. “We could skip all of that and just—”

“No,” you coldly press. Charles’ brows fly up. “I have to do this.” Distancing yourself from him, you wobble to the wooden door before looking back at the handsome man who stands proudly with his neat suit. Butterflies expand freely. “You’ll still be here when I get back, right?”

With a single hand pressed against his heart, he nods, as if you held the keys to all gates. “I’ll be wherever you need me to be from now on.” With that, you grin, eyes crinkling and exit the room.

What happened to your makeup? Lily squeals when she spots you running down the hallway, tripping over her tall heels as Alex catches her. There better be a reasonable explanation to this!

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @val-writes

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attapullman · 2 months

Text

Pretend | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: You aren't sure what's worse: having to share a bed with the boy who was your first boyfriend who you haven't seen in years, or having to pretend he's your boyfriend when you wish he actually was.

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: f!reader, light smut, 18+ only as always, unprotected pinv, fake dating trope, one bed trope, lots of switching between present and past tense whoops

A Note From Mo: It's Choose-a-Fic! Thank you to everyone who voted and has been part of my 500 Follower milestone! Hopefully you like the fic I wrote just for you (with a little extra one bed trope as a special thank you)! 😘

Coupe glasses tinkle and laughter rings out as the rehearsal dinner draws toward an end. Everyone’s had a little too much of the hotel’s signature white sangria. On your left, Isabel and Reuben are frozen in blissed smiles, the outdoor lights casting an ethereal glow. An idyllic night before the wedding.

You should be relaxed. You’ve had a little wine, the most delicious dinner, and tomorrow your college roommate is getting married at this stunning resort. But every time that big hand grazes your shoulder or his breath heats the skin of your cheek, you’re reminded none of this is real and you desperately wish it was.

The only difference between six-year-old Robert Floyd and the man standing in front of you is the broad shoulders. Those pink cheeks are just as prominent and his eyes are wide behind updated corrective frames. Sandy hair politely brushed off his face. Even his thin lips warp in that same warm smile that instantly relieves tension. The only significant difference is those shoulders that fill out the entire doorway as he checks his rooming assignment with Isabel.

From where you stand behind her, suitcase in tow, you feel your cheeks warm and your gaze drop. You haven’t seen him since the engagement party where you muttered, “it’s a small world after all” more than once. It seemed all too coincidental that your college roommate would be marrying a guy who just happens to be in the same Navy squadron as your first grade boyfriend.

To be fair, you had “dated” Bobby Floyd for a total of a week before your parent’s divorce landed you on the opposite side of the country. There hadn’t even been a formal breakup. He’d simply been the guy you jokingly referred to as your “first love” at wine nights. Occasionally you remembered his collection of vintage Coke bottle caps.

He was practically a figment of your imagination until Isabel introduced you to the man in the nicely ironed pale blue button down and you sputtered out that you already knew each other.

You’re so lost in how bizarre the coincidence of it all is that you zone out through Bob’s check-in and the next few guests that arrive. It’s not until her line of relatives has dwindled that she remembers you’re sat behind her, sorting out the favors for after the reception.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I should have given you your card earlier!” she apologizes as she flips back over her clipboard to find your room number. It’s all forgiven, you were waiting to finish up your bridesmaid duties before checking in. Get the work out so you can slip on your bathing suit and enjoy the amenities - pool, sun, and cabana boys - before dinner tonight.

She hands you a room card and walks you through the map of the hotel. You miss the second half while gathering up all your items, mentally trying to remember exactly how many rights before a left. Dinner is at seven and anything else surely she will remind you. With a kiss to her cheek, you head off to your room to begin the fun part of this destination wedding.

The property is stunning, all sun-washed sandstone and lush tropical plants. Deep blue terry cloth draped over the sun loungers you would live on all weekend. Some sun to compliment what should be a flawless wedding weekend. Maybe you’d get lucky and one of Reuben’s hot Navy friends would join you for some eye candy. You deserved a little one-weekend-in-paradise romance.

Suite 4. It’s a little deflating to remember that you’re in this big suite alone because all the other bridesmaids have dates. A least you have some privacy. The intricately carved door accepts your room key and you push the heavy wood open, ready to change and relax.

W-why was Bob in your villa?

Standing amongst the floor-to-ceiling windows draped with ochre that overlook the ocean, white oak furnishing topped with plush linen bedding, and a trailing pothos overtaking the wall, was Bob Floyd - right in the middle of changing his shirt. Equally wide eyes taking you in as he held the bunched heathered grey cotton right in front of his head, thumbs through the head hole, mouth open in shock.

“What are you doing in here?”

What was he doing in here? This was your room. “Why are you in my room?”

Despite knowing he’s not in the wrong, his cheeks tinge a deep pink. Takes a moment to pop his head in the hole of his shirt and brush out the wrinkles. You cling to to the annoyance of him interrupting your afternoon instead of focusing on how toned he’s gotten as an adult.

“This is my room. Suite 4. See?” He holds up a card identical to yours, the glossy ‘4’ reflecting the sunlight. The same ‘4’ that looks back at you.

Clearly there’s been some sort of mistake, someone at reception accidentally typing in the wrong number while going about their busy day or Isabel reading her meticulous list wrong. An easy fix.

You bite your lip. “Oh. Maybe I grabbed the wrong card. I’ll go find Isabel and sort it out.”

“I’ll come with you, she might have handed me the wrong card. Probably supposed to be sharing a bed with Fanboy.” He’s impossibly sweet as always.

You have no idea who or what a Fanboy is, but you accept his company back to reception, leaving your bag in the room purely because the bridesmaid dress alone weighs a half ton. The walk back there - with a few long turns - is a tad awkward as you both walk in silence, occasionally jerking your heads in the direction to turn.

Isabel has wandered away from reception, and is now soaking in one of the poolside bars with Reuben, their lovesick smiles contagious. She gives you the warmest smile when you approach, face splitting in two as she takes in your companion. “Hey, you two! You get settled in okay?”

God, this is awkward. Thankfully before you can muster the courage, Bob steps in. “I think there’s been a mix up with one of our rooms.”

Her eyebrows furrow as takes in what he said. Eyes flit to her lounger where her clipboard of rooming assignment lies within her tote. Reuben sips his frozen margarita in casual interest, not involved in the logistics.

“Which room are you in?” Even without her clipboard, Isabel is pretty sure she knows who is in what room. She spent months perfecting these details.

You hold up the glossy ‘4’, now slightly sticky with your sweat.

“Four? Hmm, I’m pretty sure that’s right. Was there a problem with the key? Both your keys?”

You give her a bewildered look. “One of us has the wrong key. We’re not sharing a room.”

“Why not? Your prude parents aren’t here to care if you share a room with your boyfriend.”

Every muscle in your body freezes. What is she talking about?

And while you’re paralyzed on the spot, Reuben looks like he’s about to throw up the margarita. Because he knows exactly what just happened. And not only is it his fault, but he does not have a solution.

Before you can question Isabel, the pilot is throwing his arm around your shoulders and grabbing Bob’s elbow, whisking you two away, calling out to his confused fiancée not to worry, he’s got it handled. The controlled hands of a fighter pilot steering you back in the way of Suite 4 while his face reads like he’s watching a plane crash.

Reuben won’t answer any of your questions, holding up a palm while you sputter out the who, what, where’s? of what is going on. Bob silently allows himself to be directed, confusion upon his brow, but patient enough to wait for an explanation.

Once you’re privately within the confines of Suite 4, the soft scent of bergamot and sandalwood wrapped around your bodies, Reuben finally confesses his mistake.

“Isabel thinks you two are dating.”

You expect to see eyeballs on the floor from how violently they pop out of your head. What? Bob doesn’t look much better. You two have barely spoken in decades, let alone are in a relationship! Why in the hell would Isabel think that?

Reuben drags a hand down his face, wishing he was back in the pool drinking. “When Bob over here told me that you two dated way back, I casually mentioned it to Is. When she asked the other week if he’d be good sharing a room, I thought she meant Fanboy or Harvard.”

You skip over the fact that Bob has talked about you to other people to focus on the details. “She meant me.”

“How was I supposed to know that?” By this point he’s rubbing the skin on the back of his neck raw, eyes wildly desperate. “Can you two share? It’s only two nights.”

Your eyes meet ocean blue as you both look at the single bed, then at each other. Bob intervenes calmly. “Why can’t you just tell her we need another room?”

Reuben crosses his arms across his chest, suddenly defensive. “We don’t have any other rooms. We booked the place out entirely. Short of Aunt Muriel keeling over, one of you would have to be at another hotel.”

“That’s fine,” you quip, grabbing your suitcase and ready to get the hell out of this situation.

“There’s nothing within a half hour drive. And you’re both in the wedding, that is not going to fly with Isabel.”

You’re tough, you can do hard things. Two nights at a gorgeous resort where you have to share a king-sized bed with the sweetest man on the planet? Could be so much worse. From a look at Bob’s face, he’s having the same realization.

And right as you’re about to tell Reuben that it’s not a big deal, he sends in the clincher.

“You’re also gonna have to pretend you’re dating.”

“You’re joking.” Your tinny voice rings out in the room. You can do a lot of things - go to a wedding alone, sleep in the same bed as Bob - but you draw the line at pretending you’re dating someone you hadn’t seen until an engagement party six months ago. Nope, no way.

You look at Bob, standing with his hand resting low on his hip, watching this entire scene unfold. Giving him an expectant look, he smooths out his face and gives you a little nod. He’s on whatever team you’re on.

And just as you were about to tell Reuben to get lost, Isabel’s sweet face floods your mind’s eye. That happy smile she always greets you with, and her dismay that something had gone wrong with your room. Her perfectly planned out wedding weekend ruined by her misunderstanding a minor detail. She would insist that you have separate rooms, even if it interfered with plans, and she’d be upset - the smallest tinge of disappointment clouding her bridal smile.

Isn’t the job of a bridesmaid to make the bride not have disappointment?

And now, sitting here at the rehearsal dinner, warm conversation all around you, you can still hear yourself let out a large huff of breath and agree. “Alright, we can pretend for the weekend.”

It’s a decision you stand by, but doesn’t make the subtle way Bob has been playing your boyfriend the last 24 hours any easier. He plays devoted partner a little too well. Carrying your beach bag down to the water that afternoon when everyone wanted to sit by the pool, sweetly rubbing sunscreen into that spot on your back that you can never reach. Grabbing a drink for you when he went up to the bar.

Your lonely wedding weekend is suddenly filled with this broad-shouldered Navy man who gives you a shy smile every time you make eye contact.

There wasn’t time to put in ground rules before Reuben threw you you to the wolves to socialize with the rest of the wedding party. When Isabel saw you, standing a healthy foot away from Bob and her sculpted eyebrow raised, it was the first test of this “relationship”. Your heart slamming in your chest as you slipped a hand around that thick bicep and rested your hot cheek against his shoulder. His own face fighting anxiety as he allowed you to set the pace. Isabel’s smile brightening as she beckoned you closer, instantly fawning over the two of you and the way Bob’s hand fits a little too nicely around your waist.

Thankfully the copious amount of relatives and friends constantly interrupting Isabel and Reuben prevented your friend investigating too close into this development in your love life. Happy to believe over some intentionally placed hands and the casual way he throws sweetheart in when asking if you want a drink.

“Now that I have you alone, why didn’t you tell me you were together? First loves reunited?!” Isabel drags you away to the other bridesmaids, Bob giving you a small wave as he joins the men.

You shrug, making a show of looking at the hibiscus to avoid her eyes. Desperate for a believable lie. “I didn’t want to…uh, distract from your big day?”

She wraps you in a warm hug you don’t deserve. “Not distracting in the slightest. He’s the best, you’re so lucky!”

You throw a glance his way, watching his good-natured grin as Reuben’s groomsmen, mostly aviators he’s worked with over the years, joke and jostle on the other side of the lawn. It’s side glances like these that carry through the night; when he pulls your chair out for dinner, asks the waiter to refill your water, and offers you half of his dessert. When your eyes do meet, you drown in the twin oceans that twinkle back at you.

By the time you’re heading back to Suite 4 to share that big bed, you’re pretty sure you’re not pretending to like him anymore.

You’re regretting not putting up the pillow barrier Bob so kindly offered to set up. It seemed childish at the time - you didn’t need a divider to stay on your side of the bed - but now you’re lying here in your little cotton pajamas you did not expect anyone to see and you can hear him breathing and the room is a little too warm. Every sense is on high alert and a pillow barrier would give you an inkling of privacy.

In the silhouette of the moonlight peaking through the curtains, you watch the planes of Bob’s face as he peacefully sleeps beside you. If he’s good looking in the daytime, he’s breathtaking at night. Pale eyelashes against his cheeks, lips slightly pouted, hair mussed from changing sides. You wish you could smooth your fingers over the planes of his face, appreciate the sharpness of his jaw, the roundness of his cheeks.

Tomorrow you have to pretend all over again to be in love with him. A feeling that’s already starting to creep inside you. A whole day of his gentle touches and laughs against your cheek. He was the perfect boyfriend that week in grade school, and even more perfect as an adult. Holding his hand made you want to never let go…which promptly made you want to jump out of your skin.

This was a tiny white lie to get through Sunday morning. That was it.

You keep replaying the last moment before you retired back to your hotel room for the night. The drunken group sitting around the fire pit, a bottle of tequila making its way around the circle. Not enough chairs so you ended up in Bob’s lap, body cradled in the firm comfort of his chest.

He made it so natural, the way his hand ran up and down your arm when you shivered in the night chill. You knew he could feel the shock up your spine when you noticed how intently he watched you during your story of how Isabel found a rat in your dorm room. He made you feel like the only person out there by the fire pit. The only person on this island.

When even the tequila couldn’t keep you warm any longer, the group disbanded in favor of cozy beds and hot showers. And even when no one else was in sight he still kept his arm around your shoulder to share his warmth, the pinching heels you’d shed in his hand as he asked whether you wanted to shower first.

Lips accidentally brushing your ear when he said he liked your dress; it matched the bougainvillea.

While you hadn’t spent much time together since your parents moved you away too long ago to remember, you were continually floored by how thoughtful he was still. He remembered how Isabel didn’t like ice, and that a few members of his squadron had allergies. Giving up his water because the woman next to him was without. Not to mention how he seemed to go the extra mile with you. All the years of boyfriends before this and not a single one had ever noticed you picked the pine nuts out of your salad; your new fake boyfriend requesting a fresh one sans nuts.

And it was borderline torture watching him get ready for bed post shower. Face and chest red from the scalding water and slick hair pushed back, towel slung a little too low as he dug through his suitcase. You were still speechless as he offered to put up a pillow barrier or something if it would make you more comfortable, making sure you knew he respected your boundaries.

His eyes were so blue without his glasses…

Caution to the wind, you run a finger over his cheek, brushing away a rogue eyelash and promptly turn away from him. Only one more day and you would be free of wanting a man that wasn’t yours.

The Fitch wedding day was perfect. Wide smiles, bridal lace, stunning hydrangeas, and not a dry eye in the house when Isabel and Reuben officially became husband and wife. It was the storybook start to a happy ever after.

The sunlight blessed ceremony was followed by a lantern-lit reception, dancing and drinking overtaking the sprawling beach-front lawn of the hotel. You stayed out until the evening ended, the wedding party laughing and overfilling glasses of champagne until the last lantern was blown out.

You barely remembered your rooming/relationship situation until a warm hand was on your forearm, asking if you were ready to go back to the room. It’s entirely unfair how good he looks in his suit. All day you’ve admired it, from the moment he emerged from the bathroom asking for help with his bow tie to an hour ago, when the wedding party did one last rendezvous on the dance floor.

Bob has an ease on the dance floor, clearly practiced, the hand on the small of your back gently guiding. A hand big and warm and more distracting than trying to remember your own footwork. The dark-haired woman he seems close with whooping out, “Look at those moves, Floyd!” every time you get close, her own date cheering along.

You shake the memory from your brain as Bob walks you back to the room. Keep the pining to a minimum until you can get to the airport and not have to see him ever again. You’re doing this for Isabel, your own emotions have no place. Even as you watch him open the door to the room and welcome you inside, looking so perfectly boyfriend-shaped.

Your skin feels too hot, your head clouded by bubbles and loud poppers exploding into the sky. Shedding this satin dress and getting into a warm shower sounds like heaven, washing away the buzzing ill-content flooding your body since you joined the wedding group that morning hand-in-hand with Bob. But a broken zipper interrupts those plans.

“Bob?” He stills on his way to the bathroom, bow tie loose around his neck. You indicate to the stuck zipper you’re fiddling with, warmth flaring at the top of your cheeks at your predicament.

The tips of his ears flush as he walks to you, chest a breath away from your back, admiring the way the satin flows over your curves and dips. Takes a moment to gather your hair over your shoulder before reaching for the zipper. The skin of his pinky accidentally brushes your neck, twin breaths catching at the shock.

Firm fingers guide the zipper onto the track. As they guide the cool metal down your back, the boiling point that has been simmering below the surface since yesterday afternoon comes to a head. The lace of your bra is visible. Now the silken band of your underwear. The air of the room is still, eagerly awaiting what happens next.

While his voice is shaky, his words are firm. “I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

Your head turns to the side, eyes catching his profile, too scared to look at him directly.

“What are you pretending to do?”

His face falls into the crook of your neck, fingers tightening along the satin of your hips. “Pretending I’m doing our friends a favor. Pretending I’m not falling for you. Pretending every time I touch you it’s not the best part of my day.”

Your hand wraps around his, rough skin and satin beneath your fingers. Needing to tether yourself to reality to make sure this isn’t a champagne-fueled dream that he’s professing against your neck.

“In that case, I don’t want to pretend anymore either.”

While you can’t see him, you can feel his realization against your skin. Brow furrowing, lips parting. The soft brush of his nose as he straightens up, uses his hands to turn you to him. Finally forced to look at each other amidst the information divulged.

You aren’t sure who leans in first, who braved the waters of uncharted territory. Time stills and speeds up as his face grows closer. The scent of sandalwood and bergamot that’s followed you all weekend replaced by the woodsy mint of his cologne you’ve treated yourself to when tucked into his side. Anyone outside can hear two hearts beating erratically, anxious and excited.

His lips are warm and comforting, just like everything else about him. Pressing delicately against yours, taking his time and letting you set the pace. You’re torn between the shock of how divine he feels and the greedy need for more. Senses overwhelmed by him; you want to taste more, feel more, see more.

When he pulls away, a gentleman not wanting to overstep, you’re breathless.

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to kiss you.” His confession is paired with pink cheeks and large hands playing with your fingers.

You can’t help but to tease him, the banter from your childhood coming back. “Did it live up to expectations?”

“Way, way better.” Your smile is swallowed in his kiss, chins knocking as you trade off enthusiasm. A groan leaving Bob as you grab his hands and walk back to the bathroom. That hot shower still sounds amazing, but you need more of him.

The travertine tiles glow in the soft light as you watch your childhood love remove his suit, taking time to fold the pieces on the counter, letting you indulge in unbuttoning his crisp shirt as you share another sweet kiss. His own hands twisted in the dress barely clinging to your skin. The sounds that escape him as your hands explore his chest are purely sinful, meant only for your ears.

He barely lets you bask in his body, honed from years of Naval training, before he’s stripping the satin from your frame. You beg for another kiss, but he denies you. He can’t be distracted from watching every inch of skin being revealed. From letting his fingers follow the fabric as it pools at your feet. From kissing his way back up your body until your head falls back against the wall, fingers beckoning him to the shower.

“You’re so beautiful.” It’s more breath than words, but ignite the goose flesh along your skin as he adjusts the hot water and shower head to your liking.

Minutes or hours passed as you reacquainted under the steam. Your fingers tangled in wet strands of sandy hair, fingers slipping along any skin you can reach. His own hands tightly hugging your body, holding you close as he appreciates your nude form. Swallowing each other’s moans as his fingers dip between your folds and you run your palm along his shaft.

The universe has ceased to exist by the time Bob kisses you against the shower wall, fingers wrapping under your thighs to hoist you to his level. Loving the way you giggle as your arms wrap around his neck, trusting him wholeheartedly. Eyes trained at where he lines up with you, relishing the way your breath catches in anticipation. He kisses your forehead as a promise to take care of you, a promise you know he’ll keep.

Once he’s seated deep in you, the moment about connecting rather than getting off, he tilts your head up to check in with you. A kiss as his eyes search you for discomfort. The flames of his eyes burning the brightest blue. One final clench around him and he knows he needs to move; if not for his sake, for yours.

It’s the most glorious dream as he fills you completely, hips rocking into yours as sweaty foreheads meet.

When he brings you to orgasm, a steamy moment punctuated by your muffled screams against his shoulder, there’s nothing fake about the affection as he peppers you with praise. Or when he fills you with his own release a moment later, exhaling thank you, thank you, thank you.

A pillow barrier isn’t even discussed as you lay in his arms that night, cheek against bare chest. His arm trails down your arm like it had the night before, a mindless action you now recognize as meaningful to him as to you. Sated and content, as it should be.

You sit up a little to run your nose along his neck, producing a low groan from him. “You need something, sweetheart?”

“I was wondering, after that,” you gesture to the shower, cheeks heating, “does this mean we’re, uh, dating again?”

He smiles at your flush, cupping your face with one of his large hands. Presses the sweetest kiss to your lips.

“You know, we never had a break up. Technically we’ve been dating this whole time.”

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linopls · 8 months

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kinktober day five

first time jeongin x fem!reader summary: spending the night in your childhood bedroom with one of your members didn't go as you expected it. warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, mentions of underage drinking, oral (fem receiving), unprotected p in v 3.1k words (whoops)

they are both adults (18) here!

“you smell like a red, white, and berry smirnoff.”

jeongin giggles, “your childhood bedroom is cute.”

you never thought any of the stray kids members would visit your childhood home in the states until the boys suggested you come back home for your senior prom. you had committed to finishing your senior year online while still being a member of stray kids knowing that you would miss many of your senior traditions. but the boys could not let go of the idea of you missing your senior prom.

your defensive argument is you had no reason to go as you didn’t have a date, all the boys jumped on the opportunity to take you. chan, minho, and changbin were all too old, according to the permission slip. seungmin and jisung were too worried about not knowing enough english, and hyunjin and felix had both planned trips with their families during this time of break.

this left jeongin, who didn’t care if he didn’t know enough english.

“isn’t prom just dancing anyways?” jeongin asked you a month before the dance, both of you sitting in the JYPE cafe snacking between practices.

“it is,” you reply, taking a fork full of your salad. “but i’ll want you to meet and get to know all my friends.”

“then you can translate for me, think of it as korean practice!”

“pfft, i don’t need more korean practice, you can think of it as english practice.”

jeongin rolls his eyes at you while stuffing his face full of pizza. “i’m going with you to this out of the kindness of my heart, don’t be mean,” he says with his mouth full.

“you are literally the only one able to go.”

about two weeks before the dance, stray kids was finishing promotions for their comeback and you were walking back to the dressing room.

“wait here,” chan says, stopping you outside the door. confusion paints your face as chan stands in front of the door handle, blocking you from entering. you both sit in silence for a minute when there’s a small knock on the door. chan opens the door without saying anything.

you’re greeted with balloons and streamers. on your left hyunjin is holding out a small cake, on your right, felix, minho, seungmin, and changbin, jisung are holding signs that spell out “PROM?”, and in the middle of jeongin is holding a sign that reads ‘I have a QUESTION and I hope there’s no AWKWARD SILENCE but…”

you gasp, hands covering your mouth, and tears form in the corners of your eyes. you never had been asked to a school dance, and never thought you would be. but here’s jeongin, recruiting the help of all the members, to ask you with a cheesy sign.

“my prom research told me that boys usually ask their partners to prom with a sign,” jeongin says walking towards you. “so what do you say?”

you nod, afraid that if you speak you’ll start to cry. you run to hug jeongin and he drops the sign and envelopes you in a warm hug.

“i can’t believe my parents haven’t touched it since i left.”

“it still fits your personality, cute and bubbly.”

jeongin squeezes himself between you and the wall on your twin size bed. he pulls up the pink, polka dot covers over the two of you and cuddles up next to you.

“how much did you drink?” you ask.

“only one,” he says. “we can’t legally drink here.”

you laugh. “and that stopped none of us.”

your friends had encouraged you to host an after party at your house, since your parents were out of state. you and jeongin drink often in korea, being 18 and 19 accordingly. so he found it funny that none of the party goers could legally purchase alcohol but brought a ton of it to the party. both of you only drank one or two beverages, being the hosts of the party you both wanted to remain sober enough. and red, white, and berry smirnoffs being the drink of choice, jeongin claimed it would make him feel more american.

you both lay there in silence, scrolling through socials and updating the boys on how the dance was.

“oh my god,” you sigh.

“what?” jeongin says, trying to catch a peak of whatever you’re looking at on your phone.

“my friend abby, you know the one in the red dress you meant, just texted us that she’s getting laid tonight.”

“what?” jeongin exclaimed, “she seemed so sweet and innocent.”

“she is!” you laugh. “we all had placed bets on when we’d lose our virginities in, like, middle school, they all said i would be first. but now i guess i’m last.”

“its not a race,” jeongin says.

“i know, i know.” you pout. “but i’m sick of all the boys teasing me for it all the time!”

“they tease me about it too!” he says, sitting up on one of his elbows, turning to face you.

being the youngest two members meant you and jeongin got teased about not doing ‘adult things’ a lot. like neither of you were able to drive, neither ever bought a lottery ticket, or neither had ever had sex.

“what if we did it?”

“what?” you’re in shock, you feel like you can’t move. you had never thought about jeongin like that. you both had agreed that going to prom together was completely platonic, even though he made the sign, you wore matching colors, and you guys exchanged corsages and boutonnieres.

“i’m just thinking like, if we did it, neither of us would be virgins and they would stop teasing us for it.”

jeongin notices your shocked impression and quickly begins to apologize.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean it like that, i was just saying that-”

“they would tease us for doing it with each other,” you say, turning your phone off and placing it on your nightstand.

you look over at jeongin and now he looks confused. “although,” you wonder aloud. “we wouldn’t have to tell them, we could just say we aren’t next time they bring it up. lie about who we did it with.”

“how?” jeongin asks.

“i dunno, say i reconnected with someone back here, and then you could say you met someone at the company and it was a fling.”

“they wouldn’t believe that, i don't have the ability to flirt with people like that,” jeongin laughs awkwardly.

the air feels tense. you and jeongin are sat in silence, both staring at each other looking for some sort of answer. jeongin scoots closer to you. you again can smell the smirnoff on his breath. he slowly reaches one of his hands up and places it on your cheek, gently caressing your soft cheek.

“can i kiss you?” he asks, almost at a whisper.

“yeah,” you whisper back.

his lips met yours and it feels like fireworks are going off in your brain. his lips are so soft and move perfectly in sync with yours. he moves his hand from your cheek to the back of your head, pulling you deeper into the kiss. you move one of your hands up his torso, stopping at where his chest and neck met, you can feel the warmth of his skin on your hand and it feels like you both should’ve done this a long time ago.

he slowly assists you onto your back and he lays on top of you, his legs slotted between yours. he keeps one hand on the back of your hand and uses the other to grip onto your thigh and pull it up to wrap around his middle. his gentle ministrations send butterflies down to your core and you mindlessly move both of your hands to his hips and pull his body closer to yours.

you both uncontrollably moan at the sensation of your clothed centers coming in contact with each other. the kiss becomes more messy as jeongin slips his warm tongue into your mouth and you both unconsciously grind onto each other.

jeongin is the first to pull away, a line of spit still connecting your mouths, and both of you out of breath. “jesus y/n,” he said breathlessly.

you giggle as you pull his hips closer to you once again. jeongin smashes his lips onto yours, more hungrily this time. he continues to grind his hips into your clothed core, the sensation driving you wild. he begins to kiss down your jaw and neck stopping at the collar of your shirt.

“can i take this off?” he whispers against your skin and his hand moves from your thigh to the hem of your shirt.

you nod and jeongin slowly starts to lift your shirt up your body, you sit up slightly so that he can fully lift it over your head.

“wow.”

“what?”

“you’re beautiful,” jeongin says as he leans back down to kiss at your now exposed chest. as he kisses down between your breasts and down your stomach you interlock your fingers with his dark, slightly wet hair. when he kisses the spot right above the waistband of your pants he looks back up at you.

“do you want me to…” he trails off.

“if you want to,” you reply, barely a whisper.

“yeah,” he says unsurely. “i don’t know how to.”

you laugh and he places his forehead on your stomach in embarrassment. “y/n don’t laugh at me.”

“i’m not laughing at you. you’re just cute.”

he looks back up at you. “are you kidding me?”

“i’ll tell you what to do, okay?” you reassure him.

you reach for his hands and put them at the waistband of your pajama pants. you assist him in pulling down your pants and panties in one swift motion. the feeling of the cool air in the bedroom on your core sends shivers down your spine. the whole scene hits you now and you realize what you’re about to do with your bandmate. you close your legs in embarrassment and jeongin looks up at you.

“hey, are you sure you’re okay with this?” he asks, holding your hand in his.

you nod slowly. “i’m just nervous, i guess. never done this before.”

“it’s okay, it's me, your best friend in the whole world, i’ll never think of you differently,” he says, squeezing your hand gently.

“you promise?”

“yeah, i do.” he smiles at you, the cute smile you love to see plastered on his face. where his dimples come out and his cheeks are round and you just want to grab him and kiss him all over his face. “so please, open your legs for me.”

you could never dream about your innocent jeongin saying those words to you, his words send a wave of arousal to your core. you very slowly part your legs for him and he stares at your core in awe.

“wow, y/n, you’re fucking beautiful.”

“please,” you whisper, begging for him to touch where you need him most.

“tell me if i’m doing anything wrong, m’kay?” he says, moving his face closer to your core.

he sticks his tongue out and gently swipes it across your clit. the feeling is sent through your whole body and you whimper out in response. jeongin takes that as a ‘go ahead’ and presses his tongue flat against your sensitive bud.

“m-more, please,” you whine, lacing your fingers into his hair again.

jeongin giggles and starts to flick his tongue back and forth on your clit. he lays one of his arms across your stomach to support himself and uses his other hand to part your lips for him. he moves off your clit and gently runs his tongue over your sopping wet hole. you moan in response loudly before slapping one of your hands over your mouth.

jeongin looks up at you. “shh, you don’t want to wake your friends, do you?” he teases.

your mind had been so overwhelmed with the idea of having sex with jeongin that you forgot that all your friends were still in your house from the party. next door was your brother's room in which your brother and two of his friends were sleeping in.

you shake your head but keep your hand over your mouth and jeongin gets back to work. he teasingly pokes his tongue in and out of your hole and you moan out in pleasure again, this time it's muffled by your hand. jeongin moves his tongue back up to your clit and swirls the sensitive muscle in small circles. you tug at his hair with the hand you still have in his soft, black locks. jeongin groans in response and the sound sends shivers down your spine.

“m-more please,” you whine. “your-your fingers.”

jeongin quickly listens to your pleas and slides his index finger into your entrance. you whimper in response and without realizing it, you’re grinding down onto his mouth and fingers. jeongin begins to work his tongue and fingers swiftly at your core, flicking small circles on your clit and slowly fucking your hole with his finger. before long, he adds a second finger and curls them both until he finds the spot that has your back arching off the bed.

he begins working more vigorously, wanting nothing more than for you to finish on his fingers and tongue. he begins to rotate from gentle flicks at your clit to sucking on the bud gently. he adds a third finger and you begin to feel the knot form in your stomach. you’ve never felt like this before, only ever finishing by yourself, the feeling of someone else being in control of it has you seeing stars. as jeongin goes back to swirling small circles on your clit, you feel yourself leaking onto your bedsheets and that your orgasm is going to spill over.

“i’m gonna cum, jeongin please, please,” you whine at a whisper. jeongin doesn’t break his pace and soon you’re biting down on your hand, your eyes rolls back into your head, and you're pulling at jeongin’s hair like your life depends on it. he continues to work you through your orgasm, the sounds of your squelching cunt make jeongin moan.

“jeongin, jeongin,” you exclaim and you push his head away from your core just as he starts to overstimulate you.

he looks up and you see your arousal shine all over his face. he pulls his fingers from your hole and sticks them in his mouth, making a show of swirling his tongue around them to clean them off. he starts to crawl back up to be face to face with you and you find your hands moving to the waistband of his pajama pants and slowly starting to pull them down.

“y/n do you have a condom?” jeongin asks before you can free him completely.

“no,” you answer.

“then we don’t have to it’s-”

“its okay, i’m on the pill.”

“what?” jeongin looks dumbfounded, like you just asked him to hand over his firstborn child.

“i’m serious, it’s okay, i’m on the pill.”

“are you sure?”

“yes, i am so sure. i’ve never been more sure about anything in my life. jeongin please, i need you.”

jeongin could’ve came on the spot. he quickly pulls his pants down and throws them off the bed. you look down to his red and leaking member, begging to be touched.

“holy shit.”

“what?” jeongin exclaims, worry painting his face.

“you’re huge,” you say before you can filter yourself.

jeongin laughs. “i am not.”

“you are not going to fit,” you laugh, grabbing his hips to pull closer to yours.

his solid cock brushes your entrance and jeongin lets out a whimper-like noise. you gently grab his cock with one of your hands to guide him to your begging core. he’s staring at you, eyes wide, looks like tears could boil over at any second. the feeling of his tip at your hole makes both of you moan.

“jeongin, please fuck me.”

“jesus, y/n,” jeongin moans.

jeongin grabs the base of his cock and slowly pushes it inside of you. you grab at his shoulders, the stretch stinging in a pleasurable manner. you’re both staring at each other, eyes widening as he slowly pushes himself inside you. when he bottoms out, you’re both breathing heavy at the new sensation.

“you can move now,” you whisper after you have gotten used to the feeling.

“if i move, i’ll cum,” jeongin mumbles. you laugh, and jeongin moans.

“y/n don’t fucking laugh, it squeezes me,” jeongin whines.

you chuckle and grab jeongin’s hand. you guide him down to your clit, where he quickly understands and begins to rub small circles on it. you moan loudly, not caring about who hears you anymore. the feeling of jeongin playing with your clit and being so full as you seeing stars.

“jeongin, i need you to move please,” you whine.

he takes a deep breath and slowly slides himself in and out of your wet cunt, not stopping his ministrations on your bundle of nerves. the pleasure is overwhelming, you cover your mouth with your hand again and mumble for him to move faster. he begins to move faster and you can feel the knot forming again.

“fuck,” he moans softly. “you feel so good.”

you whimper in response. “jeongin, i’m gonna cum.”

“fuck,” he moans again, beginning to thrust faster. with each thrust you can feed the head of his cock hit your spot and your eyes roll back into your head. you dig your nails that are still on his shoulder into his skin. tears are beginning to form in your eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment.

“w-will you cum with me?” jeongin says, tears in his eyes and sweat dripping down his face.

you nod quickly and jeongin buries his face in your neck. you feel is cock twitch a couple times before he paints your walls with his release. you’re quick to follow and soon you’re both a moaning and weeping mess. both uncontrollably thrusting your hips into each other as you finish, leaking all over your bed sheets.

you both lay in silence for a minute, calming yourselves down and slowing your breathing. you’re gently running your fingers through his hair and his rubbing circles into your hips with his thumbs. you’re the first to break the silence.

“are you okay?”

“i’m great, are you?”

“mhm, feel great.”

“yeah.”

“are you still hard?” you ask, realizing he hadn’t pulled out of you yet.

“maybe,” he chuckles. “wanna go again?”

i got way too carried away with this one hehe

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2K notes · View notes

strawberrynull · 25 days

Text

──౨ৎ ˙💌 ̟ hallway crush (Ep.1)

엔하이픈 | Enhypen | Nishimura Riki

──Pairing: idol!niki x afab!idol!reader

──Genre: fluff, angst

──Synopsis: Hybe is home to many idol groups including Enhypen and Jung Y/n's group, Star Stride. Most of the idols are friends from being a part of the same company. Suddenly, Nishimura Riki is enamored by the beauty of a girl who has never even thought about him.

──Warnings: cursing

──A/N: Thanks so much for the request! I know this was meant to be a oneshot but I had too many ideas and now it's being turned into a series. Whoops... FOLLOW FOR CHAPTER 2 !!!

masterlist

Nishimura Riki strode through the halls of the Hybe building. The sounds of footsteps and typing coming from the big open staff room. An exhausted sigh fell from his lips. He had just gotten finished with his private dance lessons and was on his way back to his dorm. The other Enhypen members had been waiting to serve dinner. It was already 8:46pm. Before Riki had started taking extra dance lessons, the members would eat together at 8. Despite telling them to just eat without him, they decided against it and stated that they would all wait for him to get home every weekday. Now Riki was rushing down the hallway to get home so him and everyone else could eat.

The boy quickened his steps. He didn't want the other members to wait for him for too long. Looking down at his phone, he almost didn't notice the girl he was about to run straight into. As soon as he lifted his head, he was face to face with the girl, only a few inches away from colliding. Riki quickly weaved to get out of her way. The gaze of her big pretty eyes flickered to him only for a split second as they both stepped to the side to avoid running into each other. In the passing moment he had seen her, he got a glimpse of just how gorgeous she was. She bowed quickly before running off. Her hair bounced slightly with each lively step she took. She was absolutely breathtaking.

Then it hit him that he had never even seen that girl before. His mind began racing with the endless possibilities. Could she be a staff member? She was way too pretty and fashionable to be a staff member. So then was she an idol? If so, he had never even noticed her up until now. He was so sure that he knew all the other Hybe idols. After a lot of thought, he decided to safely assume that she was from the new group that had debuted a few months ago.

In a hurry, he made his way back to the dorm where the other members had been waiting. Though he was no longer concerned with how long he had made them wait. All he wanted to do was figure out who that girl was. As soon as the door slammed open, Riki was already yelling to his band mates from the doorway.

"What's that new girl group that debuted this year?" He asked, throwing off his shoes.

"Star Stride. We literally have a show with them in two weeks." Jake yelled back, telling him to pay better attention. The others laughed at his ignorance.

"Star Stride... great. Thanks." He said quickly.

"Dinner is on the counter. I just took it back out of the oven because it-" Without another word, Riki made his way to his dorm room. He cut Heeseung off, shutting the door behind him. "...got cold. God damn it Riki." The rest of the members gave acrimonious groans, and sighs as he left them there to eat alone after they had waited for him for an hour.

In his room, Riki plopped down onto his bed, already searching for Star Stride on his phone. He opened Spotify and pressed play on their most recent album. While the music played, he began looking up the members, hoping to find the girl from the hallway. Of course he had to find out who you were. Star Stride had 5 members since a star has 5 points. Finally, after looking up 4 other members, he had looked up Star Strides main rapper. The girl was identical to the girl he had seen in the hallway. Riki quickly sat up in his bed, eyes wide as he scrolled through pictures of her.

"Jung Y/n. She's even the main rapper?" he muttered to himself, cupping a hand to his face to hide the smile creeping onto his lips. He was already flustered by the similarities the two of them shared. With his heart racing in his chest, he couldn't help but stare at the beautiful pictures of her from Star Strides most recent album. He was so focused on her that nobody could get him to leave his dorm room for the rest of the night. Not even to eat the dinner that they had all waited to eat.

For the next few days, Riki would roam the hall he had last seen Jung Y/n in. He would patrol that one hallway from 8:30pm until 9 o'clock in hopes to see her again. While pacing the halls, he would plan what he would say to the girl the next time he saw her strolling down the same hallway. The other members were already mad at him for skipping dinner last night. Now they were even more frustrated when he had started coming home even later than he had promised. Riki had better plans than sitting and eating dinner at a reasonable time. His infatuation had become a concern when he had skipped dinner for the third day in a row. He just had to see Y/n again. There was no way he could calmly eat without seeing her again.

It had been around a week since he had seen y/n for the first time. He hadn't seen her again yet but Riki wasn't giving up hope. In the past week, he had come up with a whole script for what he would say to her. He had even planned out how to look cool so maybe she would think he was handsome. What a sly boy.

Then he saw the same beautiful girl round the corner. There she was. Walking in the same direction she had been walking the last time Riki saw her. She was stunning. Her hair was now in a high ponytail that swayed behind her as she strode down the hallway. Her pretty eyes were focused on the stack of papers in her arms. She was quickly getting closer to Riki. This was his chance to talk to her. She was only a mere 10 feet away from him. Then 5. Then 2. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. He was completely frozen in place. He could only mutter a small "ah-". Y/n saw Riki and bowed, giving a quick hello before walking off just like the last time.

Fuck

He had screwed up his one chance to talk to her. Riki had waited a whole week for this moment and of course he had to choke up and let the chance slip through his fingers. Giving a heavy sigh, Riki slapped a palm to his forehead. Going after her would be weird and calling out to her would disrupt the staff room. He was at a dead end. His tongue poked the inside of his cheek as he shoved his hands into his pockets, walking back to the dorms in defeat.

About to round the corner to the staircase, he huffed in frustration before he felt a small tap on his shoulder. He turned to see a timid Y/n staring up at him through thick dark lashes. His mouth went dry and all the moisture had gone to his palms which were sweating profusely. He gulped almost comically and he worried that she had noticed his nervousness. It was really her, Jung Y/n, and she was right in front of him. She had purposefully stopped him to talk to him! Riki felt like he was dreaming. She cleared her throat before speaking, breaking Riki from his trance.

"Uh.. You're Nishimura Riki from Enhypen, right?" She asked formally. Her voice was small and shy. The complete opposite of what he had expected from the main rapper of Star Stride. She was also insanely cute and petite compared to his height. He expected a rapper to be more mature in looks. But this girl looked sweet and fragile. When he didn't answer, she tilted her head slightly, awaiting a response.

"O-oh yeah. Just call me Riki. You don't have to speak formally." he chuckled nervously, looking anywhere but at the girl in front of him. If he gave in and looked at her, he feared he might get lost staring at her features once again.

"I just wanted to tell you that it's an honor to be on a show with Enhypen next week." She explained, bowing deeply. Rikis eyes widened at how kind and pure-hearted she was. But before he could even respond, Y/n was off in the direction she had been going before.

Suddenly he was overjoyed to have Enhypen featured on a show with Star Stride.

(Riki talks about speaking formally because, even though this is written in english, they are speaking korean. In korea, you are expected to speak formally to everyone unless you are extremely close. Of course Y/n and Riki aren't close so Y/n uses formal speech. Riki tells her to speak casually but until stated otherwise, she will continue to speak formally with honorifics.)

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klausinamarink · 10 months

Text

(saw this post and laughed at everyone’s tags and ended up writing this instead of my actual wips i should really finish whOOPs)

Eddie bopped his head lightly along to Mötley Crüe on his Walkman as he scribbled his ideas for the Thanksgiving oneshot. He managed to finish the gruelling biology homework and his English essay tonight, so he deserved a treat.

As he tapped his pencil against his desk, he looked up and happened to catch one Steve Harrington’s face at the window.

Eddie perked up, taking his headphones off. Steve grinned, gave his dumb finger wave, and pointed at the window. Eddie gave him a ‘wait a second’ gesture and hurried to close his door, peeking first at the living room where Wayne sat on the couch and read his newspaper. Then he swiftly moved his Mötley Crüe tape to his radio and cranked the volume up that would cover any discreet noise.

He lifted the window open, taking a moment to closely observe Steve’s face in his goofy awestruck glory. “What brings you to my balcony, Romeo?”

Steve shrugged playfully, “Doesn’t Juliet yearn for his lover to come at unknown hours under the moonlight?”

Eddie gave himself a second to turn away and cover his delightful shriek with a palm over his mouth. Goddamnit, his boyfriend is a perfect Shakespeare romantic. He leaned back in with a low whisper, “Sounds like Romeo needs an excuse to see Juliet.”

“That’ll be great since I’m literally tiptoeing on this box right now.” Steve laughed and heaved himself up with a ‘hup!’ Eddie stepped back to let his boyfriend shimmy in, but then his eyes widened in horror when he realized what was under the window in his room.

“Wait, Steve-!” Eddie cut off as Steve landed elegantly onto the small bookshelf instead of the bed because he had switched their places the previous week because his brain was on a weird day and Eddie had thought doing so might shut it up, so he has yet to reverse them.

The bookshelf toppled over on the floor, along with the lamp and other figurines. Steve himself pretty much crashed and rolled before he stopped himself on his side. He looked up at Eddie in bewilderment.

“Uhhh…”

Before either of them could say anything, Wayne burst into the room. Out of instinctive reflex, Eddie threw his bedsheets right on Steve, covering him but not really hiding him.

“What’s going on?” Wayne asked. His gaze landed on the mess and the very obvious Steve blanket lump on the floor.

“Nothing!” Eddie answered, too cheerily. “I was just dancing a lot and, uh, did this. By accident, sorry.”

Wayne stared at him, clearly not believing his ass. “…Right.” He said slowly. “Does Steve want to stay for breakfast in the morning?”

Eddie blinked innocently and, because he was the best liar in the entire world, said, “Who’s Steve?”

Steve made some muffled guffaw sound. Eddie subtly kicked him in where he hoped was in the shins. Wayne gave him another stare before coming to Steve the Blanket Lump and lifted the sheet up where Steve blinked just as innocently back.

“What’s your name, son?” Wayne asked matter of factly.

“…Steve?”

“Steve, would you like to stay for breakfast in the morning?”

Steve looked over to Eddie, who quickly shook his head no, then back at Wayne with his parent-rated charming smile. “Of course, I wouldn’t mind, Wayne.”

His uncle nodded and dropped the blanket, covering Steve again. He turned and walked out of the room, calling out, “Better not hear any more noises again!”

Eddie practically dropped to the ground, his face in his hands, and groaned aloud. This was so embarrassing. He felt Steve’s arms hugging his chest. “Eds, babe, I’m sorry but you know I would die for your uncle’s buttermilk biscuits and jams.”

He glared at his boyfriend half-heartedly. “Stealthy like a ninja, you say?”

Steve pointedly looked down at the fallen bookshelf. “Welllll, I could’ve sworn there was always a bed there-”

Eddie kissed him. “Well,” he said after they broke apart, “maybe I’ll let Romeo help me clean up and all shall be forgiven with our usual duties.”

Steve wiggled his eyebrows with a shit-eating grin. “Clean up, you say, Juliet?”

Wayne hollered at Eddie to close his bedroom door.

#klaus writes #steddie #uncle wayne #stranger things

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gothbitchshit · 2 years

Text

Feels Like the First Time

Pairing: Eddie x plus sized female reader

Rating: Explicit — minors do not interact

Genre: fluff, explicit smut

Word count: 5.8k

Summary: Eddie is your best friend, and has always been a little bit of a perv, but that doesn’t matter to you much considering you’re in love with him. Things change though when he sees you in something a little more revealing than he’s used to.

Warnings: idiots to lovers aka best friends to lovers, lowkey perv Eddie, mentioned porn, Eddie likes his girls thick idc I make the rules, Eddie sees the reader almost naked and falls in love™️, mentioned drug use, overuse of pet names, finger sucking, mentioned throat fucking (does not occur), choking, impact play/pussy slapping, master kink, oral (f receiving), fingering, loss of virginity (both reader and Eddie whoops), protected sex, safeword discussion, dirty talk (these two are filthy), dumbification if you squint, Eddie being silly -- if I missed anything please let me know!

Request status: yes! Requested by @friendly-neighborhood-ghoul

Authors note: sorry this has taken 75000 years 🙃 but it’s here! And it’s somewhat more lighthearted than thick with desire but I hope everyone still likes it!! Also it has been beta read so I hope it’s clean but if not, please let me know 💞

⋆ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋆

You always noticed how Eddie stared at you.

It didn’t bother you — you had gotten used to people’s eyes on you. There was just more of you to see than most of the other girls, and Eddie was, to put it lightly, a perv. He was obsessed with the “female form” as he put it. He never shied away from the topic of sex and what he found to be turn on, most of which came down to his personal motto: the bigger the better. And his views on sex helped you come out of your shell a bit. You weren’t a prude, just… inexperienced. But Eddie just being himself made you feel comfortable with sex — I mean you had to be with the amount of porn you found under his bed and on his nightstand. Eddie was your best friend, and he outright refused to keep secrets from you, including what type of porn he liked, and expected you to do the same. It hadn’t been easy at first, but the more time you spent around Eddie, the more free you felt.

The only secret you kept from him was that you were painfully in love with him; I mean how could you not be? He was sweet, funny, caring, and had the best hair in Hawkins (sorry Steve). But you pushed those feelings down, deep down, because you couldn’t live without Eddie. You didn’t want to lose him because of a silly crush you’d been holding onto for nearly a year, he meant too much to you. He was a constant in your life that you outright refused to give up. So, you carried on like normal, pushing down the longing you felt pang in your chest every time he made a comment about your figure, called you sweetheart, let you have the last bite of his food, or let you steal all of the blankets when you spent the night.

And you spent many nights at the Munson trailer getting high with Eddie while Wayne worked, even now after you had graduated from Hawkins High while he was attempting to finish his senior year for the third time. But an extra year for him to graduate wasn’t something that put either of you off — in fact it made you closer. Instead of meeting every day in the hallways between class, Eddie would pick you up from the salon you worked at to smoke and hang out, or even just take you home so you could spend some time together at the end of the day. Or you would join in Hellfire frivolities, much to everyone’s joy — especially the freshmen Eddie had collected.

But today was a holiday weekend, and you and Eddie were blessed by a weekend completely devoid of obligations. Wayne was out of town, the salon was closed, neither of you had anywhere to be, and your only thought was getting high enough to not feel the lingering stress of the past few weeks. Eddie had gone so far as to drag his mattress into the living room and made a fort out of some old sheets that looked suspiciously like ones that had disappeared from your linen closet after you complained about needing to get rid of them.

“Alright princess, we’ve got snacks, drinks, and enough weed to keep us obliterated until tomorrow night,” he smiled proudly, standing triumphantly in front of the entrance to the fort, before bowing dramatically, “Your castle, m’lady.”

“Why thank you, good sir,” you giggled, curtseying exaggeratedly in response. But Eddie grabbed your wrist and pulled you haphazardly into the fort, a scream leaving your lips as you felt the momentary weightlessness take over. But the next thing you knew, you were pinned to the mattress by Eddie’s lean frame, a proud smile on his face as he stared down at you. “What was that for, you big meanie,” you pouted up at him.

He shrugged, refusing to release your intertwined hands from where he had them pressed against the soft surface, “Just thought I’d keep ya on your toes, sweetheart,” he boasted, letting his body collapse onto you. You sighed dramatically, knowing it was useless to try and get him off you when he was like this.

Despite being as thin as he was, Eddie was surprisingly strong. He was able to manhandle you in a way you didn’t think was possible for your size, often taking to throwing you around like a rag doll in his play fights, and easily pinning you down to tickle you until you were crying and begging for mercy. But when Eddie got like this — especially when he was high — he stuck to you like a flytrap. Moving more than a few inches at a time was relatively impossible with his limbs wrapped around you like a boa constrictor.

You knew you were in for it when he slithered down slightly, sliding his arms around your waist and letting his head rest on your chest, his legs tightening around your own. You couldn’t help but laugh, earning a pinch to your side, “Pillows don’t laugh, pretty girl,” he chastised before finally settling.

“Eddie,” you whined, trying to shake him off you, “I’m not a pillow, and I’m hungry,” you complained, feeling the effects of the joint you two had shared on the drive over. It made you feel like you were floating, and Eddie’s body weight was the only thing keeping you from flying away.

“But sweetheart,” he whined, “We have all day to eat—“

“We also have all day for me to be your pillow but Eddie I’m hungry, and I’m warm,” you argued, grabbing a fist full of his hair and tugging on it gently, getting a deep moan from him in response.

“Christ, warn a guy before you go around pulling on his hair like that. You’re gonna give me the wrong idea, princess,” he smiled proudly, before sighing deeply and rolling off you. “But I guess you can eat. But pillow time later, promise me!” he demanded, eyebrows furrowed as he stared into your eyes, pinky held out toward you.

You wrapped your pinky around him with a roll of your eyes, a bright smile spreading across Eddie’s face as it did, “Now can you please feed me?”

“Alright, alright,” he sighed, pushing himself off the bed before turning and wiggling his fingers at you. You grabbed his hands, allowing him to heave you off the floor, steadying you as you nearly face planted into his chest, “Whoa there, don’t need you falling for me yet,” he said with a wink.

“You’re the worst,” you grumbled, pushing him away from you as you went to retrieve your backpack. He just snickered to himself, letting you stomp away from him like a pouting child.

But Eddie was grateful for the moment of separation — he was on the losing end of a battle with his own hormones. It had taken every ounce of self control he had not to rut himself into you and bury his face in your chest.

He’d always played off his attraction for you as a generalized turn on — which wasn’t far off to say. He liked seeing the girls in his dirty mags that had more on their frames. More hips, more thigh, more ass, more tits. But his real turn on was you. It had been ever since the summer of ‘84 when the two of you had gone swimming in Lovers Lake after his broken air conditioner had forced you both out of the trailer.

You had stripped down to barely anything, demanding he turn away as you ran into the tepid waters. Eddie hadn’t meant to sneak a peek, only looking when he heard you yelp loudly. He had honestly thought you were hurt; he just wanted to check in on you. But what he got instead was the sight of your thin panties stretched over the roundness of your ass, the dimples and puckers in your skin on display; it took his breath away. But when you turned, and he caught a glimpse of your nipples poking against the thin matching material of your bra, one that was nearly too small to contain the fat of your tits, made him feel like a prepubescent boy about to lose his load looking down the shirt of his uncles ex girlfriend when he was 10.

But ever since that day, he’d been embarrassingly attracted to you. He thought everything you did was pure pornography and it was torture. He was getting more and more depraved and desperate as the days went on too. The simple act of you throwing your bare legs over his during movie nights and the light catching the hair of your legs got him hard, and the pout that seemed to permanently live on your mouth drove him crazy. He wanted to fill your bratty little mouth, make you choke on his fingers, or even better, his cock; make you gag and drool and cry as he abused your poor throat.

The worst part of it was that it seemed like you didn’t notice at all.

Gareth and Jeff had approached him multiple times about his borderline creepy behavior, worried about how it would affect the group if you grew tired of it. But he’d proven to them various times that you simply didn’t care — or at least pretended not to. They watched as he manhandled you into his lap during Hellfire, hands all over you. It would have been nearly obscene if you hadn’t giggled and slapped his chest playfully, rolling your eyes at him.

And your lack of reaction only made Eddie more bold. He was never one to back down from a challenge, always willing to push his limits until he either got what he wanted, or got burned.

But fuck did he want you. You were basically already living in domesticated bliss; all that needed to change was instead of fucking his fist every night to the thought of you, he’d be actually fucking you.

He barely realized he’d gotten himself so worked up just thinking about you, he’d shoved his hand in his pants and had began to stroke his painfully hard cock, praying that he’d cum before you walked back in the room so he didn’t have to walk past you with his cock throbbing painfully. He only hoped his black jeans would conceal the wet spot well enough.

But his prayers went unanswered as you threw open the door to his bedroom forcing him to yank his hand out of his pants with a hiss as his finger caught the zipper, slicing through the thin skin shallowly. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he grumbled.

“Eds are you okay?” you asked, eyebrows furrowed in concern as you straddled his legs, taking his hand in yours to assess the damage. You pouted, eyes locking with his, “Eddie, you need to be careful,” you chastised with a small whine, “What were you even doing? If you hurt your fingers too much you won’t be able to play your show this week—“

“What the actual fuck are you wearing,” Eddie cut you off firmly, his eyes glued to your chest. “No, really, I’m gonna need an explanation sweetheart because it seems like you just want me to lose my goddamn mind.”

You looked down at the shirt, not really understanding what he meant. It was a little lower cut than shirts you normally wore, the tank top showing off a modest amount of your chest. “Eddie, I don’t know what you mean, I’m just wearing a shirt—“

He cut you off, surging forward to pin you underneath him again. It was something he did often, but the look in his eyes was something you’d never seen before. His eyes were swimming with frustration and something else you couldn’t quite place. “Sweetheart, that’s not a shirt, that’s fucking temptation,” he explained.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the pain in your chest as you tried to push him off – you knew he didn’t mean you, just the idea of you, “Come on, Eddie, I know you like this kinda shit in porn but it's me. I know you don’t like me—“

“Excuse me?” He asked, his eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline, “Babycakes, you’ve got me all wrong. I am so wildly in love with you I’m barely competent when you’re in the room. Why do you think I failed Mrs. O’Donnell’s class again last year? I couldn’t think about Hamlet with you sitting next to me.”

You stared at him, eyes wide and jaw dropped open in shock. “But y-you never said anything—“

“Baby I’ve made it obvious for years now. You can’t honestly tell me you didn’t realize when I’m constantly telling you how sexy you are,” Eddie rolled his eyes. His tone was verging on annoyed, which pissed you off — he was placing all the blame on you for not noticing him when he was busy not noticing you.

“Hey! It’s not all my fault! Why do you think I always wear things you say you think are cute? I don’t do that for anyone else you know,” you defended yourself with a glare. “Plus, I asked your stupid ass to prom and you took me! How could you not realize I’m in love with you too?” It was Eddie’s turn to stare at you in shock, eyes going wide.

“I-I thought you just wanted me to feel less lonely because Gareth and Jeff had dates! I didn’t know you meant it,” Eddie stuttered, eyes going wide.

“Of course I meant it, Eddie, I’m not that mean,” you huffed, trying to throw his body off yours but he wouldn’t let you go, making you huff and turn your head away as you mumbled, “The fact that you’d think I would do all that just as a pity date is so gross and hurtful and—“

He cut you off with a kiss, lips slamming into yours with no remorse, his teeth clicking with yours from the sheer force of him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. His lips were soft — probably from the chapstick he continued to steal out of your bag — and his hand cradling your head felt right. His kiss consumed you, instantly going pliant in his grasp.

“I don’t think you’re mean baby,” he smiled, pulling back to look over your breathless state with a smile, “I mean… you can be an asshole, but it’s just one of the things I love about you princess.”

“And what are those other things you love so much, hm?” You asked cheekily, nipping at his ear as you pulled him closer.

“Hm, well, let’s see,” he smiled, pulling himself out of your grasp to tower over you. You couldn’t help but stare up at him in awe; he always looked so pretty hovering over you. His dark brown eyes sparkling in the low light and dimples on display as he smirked at you. “If you don’t stop looking at me like that, you little vixen. I mean fuck baby, when you look at me it’s like you unplug my brain. Sometimes, you bat your eyelashes at me in Hellfire and I’m ready to hand the campaign over to you, I mean shit, s’not fair. Even when you glare at me, it makes me wanna bend you over and fuck you till you cry.”

His words sent a wave of electricity through you, your body aching to touch him, “God Eddie I feel the fuckin’ same. Why do you think I did your chem homework so often? I almost dropped to my knees when you glared at me for taking the last beer last week. Would have let you fuck my throat, no questions asked.”

Eddie smirked, leaning forward and trapping you under him, one of his big hands grabbing your cheeks and squishing them gently, forcing your lips into an exaggerated pout, “God, the mouth on you. That’s another thing I love,” he groaned, pushing two of his fingers against your lips, your mouth opening for him instantly. Satisfaction grew in your chest as his eyes rolled back in his head, a grumble from deep inside him reverberating in the thick silence. “This fuckin’ mouth, princess. God, you can’t understand how many times I’ve thought about making you choke on me while you’re being a mouthy little brat, or fuck, when you pout at me to get what you want?”

“Wan’ it, Eds,” you mumbled against his fingers, pushing yourself deeper on his fingers, gagging slightly as you did.

“Yeah baby? You wanna fuck me? You wanna let me use your throat?” He cooed, making you whine and nod around his fingers. “So needy for me, huh? Such a pretty little thing, and you’re all mine, aren't you?”

You could only nod at him, eyes rolling back as you sucked on them lewdly. “Wan’ be yours,” you slurred, making him laugh, taking his fingers out of your mouth with a pop before wrapping his hand around your throat.

“Baby, you’ve been mine,” he grinned, watching you squirm on his bed. He had dreamed about this moment for years, you were the object of every fantasy he’d ever conjured, but fuck seeing you on his bed was better. He didn’t know if he could go back, but hearing you say that — he knew he didn’t have to. “Wanna know why I cut my finger open, hm? I was so distracted thinking about you I had to get myself off. I was thinking about those tits, that cute ass of yours, and fuck sweetheart, these legs. God these legs,” he groaned, rutting his bulge into your covered core, a pitiful whine coming out of your mouth.

“Please Eddie, I need it,” you pouted at him, your nails digging into his wrist as he tightened his fingers around your throat.

“This is the point of no return, sweet thing. We do this, you let me do this and I will never go back to just being your friend who has to jerk off in the bathroom every time we’re together. We do this and that means we’re together, got it?” He demanded, and your heart fluttered in your chest.

Being with Eddie was all you ever wanted, all you dreamed about. You wanted him to hold you and call you princess and know he meant it; know that it wasn’t a fantasy. “I want you Eddie, I want us. I’ve wanted there to be an us since that stupid campaign where you made me the damsel in distress and you pretended to be The God of Eternal Darkness who corrupted me and caused me to betray the party,” you smiled at him fondly.

“Baby, I know we’re past this now, but that was me flirting with you,” he smiled, patting your cheek, it almost would have felt condescending if the look in his eyes wasn’t so tender.

“Well maybe the mighty dungeon master should learn to be more—“ you rolled your eyes, but his grip on your neck cut you off.

“Now’s not the time to be a fuckin’ brat,” he glared at you, “I’ll give you one more chance before I decide to punish you to be a good girl.”

“Yes master,” you choked out, batting your eyes innocently.

He nearly growled at you, his eyes narrowing as he sucked in a breath. Everything stood still for a moment before his hands were gripping the hem of your shirt, pulling it off your body and flinging it to the side, leaving you breathless.

“You just have to be mouthy don’t you?” He huffed, ripping off your shorts, leaving you completely exposed to him. You only had a moment to feel shy before his open palm was coming down on your cunt with a wet crack! You hadn’t even had enough time to process what happened when a broken moan was coming out of you. “I knew it, my dirty girl,” he smirked before his hand came down on the same spot again, “I saw that look on your face when I told you about that porno I saw, and you tried to deny it! But I knew baby, I knew you were perfect for me.”

Shame and lust filled your chest, sending heat up your neck while goosebumps broke out across your skin. Everything about the situation made you feel needy — you were completely at his mercy, and you loved every second of it.

“I’m sorry, master,” you whimpered, but this time, the name was filled with sincerity. You needed him to touch you, to fuck you, and being a brat would get you nowhere with Eddie, you knew that.

“That’s more like it,” he hummed, sitting back on his heels smugly. “Will you let your master take control now? Fuck you like you deserve?”

“Yes, master, please,” you pleaded softly, making him smile at you fondly.

“That’s my sweet girl,” he smiled, kissing the tip of your nose as he dragged a single digit through your slit, coating it in your essence before bringing it up to his mouth. His finger disappearing behind his lips made you moan, your hips rocking against nothing as you watched him. A startled yelp turned into a moan as his freehand came down on you again, the pressure on your clit making you cry out as you felt the stinging pleasure radiate through you. “Impatient little thing though,” he tutted, removing the finger from his mouth with a shake of his head.

Your eyes rolled back as his wet finger plunged into you slowly, the intrusion not too unfamiliar thanks to the dildo you had hidden in your room, but the warmth of Eddie’s hands on you was shocking. You knew you’d never get over the feeling of his hands splaying out across your skin, or his long fingers inside you.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groaned, pulling his fingers out of you with a slick, wet sound. The loss of him made you cry out in desperation. His chuckle at your desperate sounds made you narrow your eyes at him, “What, you make cute little sounds, princess,” he smirked, “No need to be asham-ow!” He teased, but you cut him off with a sharp pull of his hair.

“Edward Munson, if you make fun of me while we are having sex ever again, I will make you regret it,” you seethed, and he nodded before grinning.

“So we’re gonna have sex, more than just this once… nice,” he nodded. You let the silence wash over you for a moment before you both were breaking into laughter, tears filling your eyes as he collapsed on top of you.

“You’re ridiculous,” you gasped, “You’re so lucky I’m in love with you.”

“You’re damn right I am, I’m the luckiest motherfucker alive, sweetheart,” he beamed, pushing himself forward to slot his lips over yours, his fingers burying in your hair to pull you closer.

You hummed against his lips, snaking your hands under his shirt, feeling his smooth, warm skin against you. His happy trail brushed over your tummy, making you giggle. He pulled away just enough to pull the Dio shirt over his head before falling back against you, getting his hair in your mouth as you laughed.

“Alright, we need to do something about this,” you mumbled, taking your hands through his hair tenderly, gathering it in a bun at the back of his head before sliding your hair tie off your wrist, and securing it into his curly brown mane. “There, now I can kiss you without getting a hairball,” you teased, but your breath caught in your throat when you saw how he was looking at you.

There was nothing in his eyes but pure, unfiltered love.

“I know I keep makin’ jokes ‘bout it, but if you wanna do this angel, there’s no goin’ back for me,” he sighed, “A-and I don’t mean you can’t say no, because that’s just gross and I’d never do that to anyone, let alone you, but I-I mean if we take this step—“ he rambled, but you cut him off with a soft kiss.

“I know, babe,” you breathed, “And I want to. I want you. I’m just worried it won’t be good for you, because I’m… you know… a virgin,” you shrugged sheepishly.

“Princess, you know I’m a virgin too,” he admitted, eyes softening, “I just watch a lot of porn.”

“I know you do, you dirty pervert,” you rolled your eyes, “But you still fingered that one girl last year, and ate out that other girl at the Hideout, so you have some experience,” you scoffed.

“I think it’s perfect,” he smiled, making you tilt your head in confusion, “We get to learn all of this together. You get to teach me what you like, what feels good,” he mumbled, burying his face into your chest. You felt his tongue on your skin, sending shivers down your spine as he littered kisses across your tits. “And then I’ll teach you what I like,” he whispered before sinking his teeth into your skin, earning a gasp.

“That sounds perfect, Eddie,” you sighed, letting him suck marks into your skin as his hands roamed your body.

His marks eventually trailed down your torso, his tongue mapping your stretch marks as he went, eventually ending up between your legs, a lazy smile on his face as he wedged his shoulders against your thighs. “Do you wanna find out what all the hype is about sweetheart? Gonna let me taste you? I bet you’re fuckin’ sweet,” he groaned unconsciously grinding into the mattress.

“Y-yeah, if you wanna,” you nodded sheepishly.

“Don’t be afraid to pull my hair angel,” he assured you, “And don’t even think about hiding those noises from me. I wanna hear how good you feel. And if you need me to stop, like you really need me to stop, just say hellfire,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

Whatever response you had died on your lips as his tongue swept over your slit, a choked moan tearing from your chest. “Eddie, fuck,” you sighed, throwing your head back.

He simply moaned into you, his eyebrows furrowing as you unintentionally tried to wiggle away from him as his hands gripped you tighter, pulling you down so you were immobilized.

You couldn’t think, fuck, you could barely breathe as he ate you messily. The slurping sounds and his grunts were downright nasty but they made your flesh burn with lust. Eddie was everything you didn’t know you needed, you didn’t know you could miss.

Eddie could think of nothing but you — the smell of you, the taste of you on his tongue, the feeling of your silky thighs around his head and your fingers in his hair, and the sound of his name and squeals of pleasure leaving your lips. He’d never get over it. He wished he could film if, maybe you’d let him in the future. But then again, why would he need a film if he could just fuck you again? He knew you’d be perfect, perfect for him.

He was obsessed. And he ate you with the same desperation he felt when he watched you casually flirt with other boys, the same desperation that caused him to steal panties out of your bag and fuck his fist whenever you fell asleep in his sheets. This moment was a culmination of years of longing and he refused to let it go to waste.

Eddie memorized every twitch and every moan, every thrust of your hips and which things made you try to run from him. His tongue breaching your fluttering walls made you sigh his name so sinfully he had to stop himself from shoving his hand into his pants, but your desperate whines when he circled your clit were otherworldly.

Because his tongue swirling on your clit felt like heaven; the pleasure was immense, and came quickly, but you knew the sensation would become too much soon, and then you’d be too sensitive to take him properly. You’d experienced it before and you were not letting a pesky bundle of nerves from fucking the man of your dreams.

“Eds, fuck, ‘m goddamn sensitive,” you squeaked, pulling his hair, “Not so much on my clit.”

He hummed and pulled away from your dripping center, eyes glassy and feral with want as your essence covered his chin, nearly running down his neck.

“I was right, sweetheart,” he smirked, “Sweet as I thought,” he said before dropping himself onto you again, trapping you in a filthy kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, teeth clicking against yours as he moaned.

“Please, Eddie, I can’t wait much longer,” you pleaded, “I want you inside me, please.”

Your words had him biting your lip harder than he intended to, accidentally cutting your lip as the metallic taste flooded his mouth. The taste mixed with the remnants of your essence swirling on his tongue made him nearly choke on his need to cum.

“Fuck, gotta be in you,” he slurred, pushing himself up off the bed. His hands shook as he pulled open his belt and nearly ripped his jeans trying to get them off his legs, boxers going with them. Once he had them off he stood at the edge of the bed, panting as he looked you over, before freezing. His eyes went wide before breathing out, “Condom, be right back,” before running into his room. You would have laughed if you didn’t find it so endearing.

He reappeared seconds later, eyes as wild as the grin on his face. But he kept standing at the edge of the bed, looking at you with a distinct hunger in his beautiful brown eyes. “Come on, Eddie, don’tcha wanna fuck me?” You teased, snapping him out of his trance with a moan.

“Baby, I’m tryin’ hard not to blow my load before I’m even inside you,” he said, throwing his head back.

“God that’s hot,” you moaned, “Next time, I want to watch you get yourself off, and I wanna feel you cum on me.”

“If you don’t stop talking it’s gonna become a reality,” he ground out through clenched teeth, glaring at you. You shrugged sheepishly, and he nearly growled in warning before ripping open the condom wrapper with his teeth and rolling it on.

In an instant, he was kneeling between your open legs again, rubbing his covered cock between your folds as you choked on your gasps. “Please Eddie, please,” you whined.

He said nothing, just aligned his cock with your hole and began to push himself into you. His thickness took your breath away, making you claw at the sheets and forcing high pitched squeals of pleasure out of you. “That’s right, take it baby, you’re doing so good for me,” he praised absently.

It felt like you were being split open, and it also seemed like he would never end. You knew he was long, and thick, but feeling him stretch you out felt like it took ages. But you loved every second.

You’d heard from other girls that their first times hurt, enough for them to cry or bleed, but this was a gratifying pain. And his hands steadied you, one on your hip and the other toying with your clit lazily.

He bottomed out with a satisfied sigh — he knew you weren’t in any pain. He’d watched you, eyes flicking between your face and his hardness disappearing into you the whole time, waiting for a flash of hurt or discomfort. But he never found it. He knew it — you were made for him.

“Move, do something, fuck, please,” you keened, rocking into him shallowly.

“Your wish is my command, princess,” he smirked before thrusting shallowly, watching your face for a reaction. When your moan tumbled out and your eyebrows knitted together in pleasure, he began to go harder. Your moans quickly became louder and more desperate, urging him to let go of his restraint.

The sound of skin on skin, your whines, and his deep grunts filled his trailer, drowning out the tape he’d put on when you arrived. His fingers digging into your plush skin was the only thing keeping you coherent, your mouth hanging open as your eyes rolled back.

“That’s right angel, I’m fucking you stupid, aren’t I?” He asked. You could only nod, tears filling your eyes from the pleasure that was growing in your belly. “You’re mine baby, mine. And I’m yours. And I want you to cum for me, can you do that? I’m so close, I just wanna feel you do it for me,” he ranted.

You were sure you could have cum from his words alone, but the look in his eyes — the possessive gleam you couldn’t look away from — pushed you over the edge.

You came with a scream, your walls tightening around him like a vice, which caused him to cum with a shout, his arms giving out as he face planted into your chest with a heaving sigh.

You laid in silence, both catching your breath as he softened inside you. Warmth filled your chest as he traced nonsensical patterns into your sweaty skin, your fingers toying with the curled ends of the hair that had escaped the haphazard bun you’d given him.

“So, is it too early to ask you to marry me?” He joked, sending you both into a fit of giggles.

“Yes, too soon. Take me on a date first then ask me again,” you said, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he hummed happily, before he sat up with a gasp. “Babe, I know the perfect song for this,” he exclaimed.

You sighed, going boneless against the sheets. You knew Eddie wouldn’t let it go until he made his point. “Well go on then, I don’t know how—“

“I have waited a lifetime! Spent my time so foolishly, but now that I found you, baby! Together we'll make history! It feels like the first time! It feels like the very first time!” He began singing loudly, pulling your hair tie out of his hair and throwing his head back, shaking out his curls as you rolled your eyes, unable to stop the fond smile growing on your lips.

“You’re gross,” you shook your head, earning a laugh.

“Maybe, but I’m yours. And you’re mine,” he grinned, pressing his lips to yours.

-----

taglist: @joekeeray @witchoftheewilds @vampireeddiemunson @wroteclassicaly @friendly-neighborhood-ghoul @littledemondani @bibbykins @tessab154 @manicpixiedreamcurl

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #stranger things smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x plus size reader

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keikikait · 4 months

Text

ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀꜱ (ɢᴏᴊᴏ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

pairing: gojo x f!reader (not au, gojo is 29, reader is early-mid 20’s)

word count: 2.6k

summary: you always wanted to be a teacher, even after discovering the jujutsu world. after graduating from kyoto jujutsu high, you decided to make your dreams a reality and teach at the sister school, tokyo jujutsu high. the only downside (and secret upside), is your teaching mentor, satoru gojo. what started as a few flirtatious glances turned into a full-blown relationship situationship. you were his, and he was yours, until he goes on a date.

warnings: (FOR THIS PART) angst?, plot with basically no porn (i’m sorry), gojo is kind of an asshole & a tease, implied dom!gojo and sub!reader, nickname use [baby, pretty girl], no use of y/n

a note: been sitting on this bad boy for a while and decided to finish it. more parts to come (eventually). also, the comment about flirty baristas is just for fluff, baristas don’t flirt with customers (source: i am one). also also, they say tokyo jujutsu high is on the outskirts of tokyo, but i wanted everything to be inside of tokyo so i just kinda guessed, whoops.

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

You were just his teaching assistant. Nothing more.

At least, that’s what everyone else thinks.

Secretly, you were his. After long hours, he would find solace in your arms as you lay in bed together.

You weren’t dating by any means, although you wanted to. You understood why, it wouldn’t be a good look for you or Gojo if the higher-ups found out about you, but you both had an understanding. You were exclusive, just not publicly. You followed his rules, turning down dates and avoiding the flirtatious gazes of baristas or waiters.

You thought he would follow his own rules, too.

It was supposed to be a fun trip; a peaceful eight days of relaxing in Nikko before returning to school after the winter break ended. In reality, it was a week and some change stuck in a log cabin hunched over a desk grading papers, freezing from the cold. The gender-segregated cabins didn’t help. It was too cold to venture into Nikko during the day, a thick layer of snow covering the ground at all times no matter how much was shoveled. It was also, as Gojo had pointed out the day before making the trip, suspicious for the two of you to venture into the city alone. It was twice as hard to be away from him at night, you had gotten so accustomed to sleeping in his arms and hearing his soft snores in your ear. You were lonely.

You could see him, though. The men’s cabin was bigger and had a massive irori in the middle that heated the entire place. You sat with him as you graded and planned lessons, and his teasing touches left you aching. You were going on 8 days without his dick, and you were dying.

As you sit hunched over the desk, trying to make out what Yuji had written on his worksheet, Shoko bounds up to the table, sliding into a chair opposite Gojo.

“Hey, Gojo,” she says. “Are you going to the winter festival when we get back?”

You tried not to react. You had begged him to go with you, but he always gave you the same excuse; it was suspicious.

He stretches his legs out a bit and smirks. “I was planning on stopping by. Why?”

Shoko smiles. “I have this friend, Himiko. She’s new to the city and was looking for a date for the festival. I’ve been telling her all about you, I honestly think you would be an amazing match. What do you say?”

You feel your heart drop to your stomach. Although you and Gojo had agreed to stay exclusive, you couldn’t ignore that he was Satoru Gojo. Everyone wanted him.

Gojo chuckles a little, adjusting his mask. “Sure. I don’t see why not. Is she cute?”

Shoko leans over the table and shows him Himiko’s social media while you keep your head down, staring at the pile of worksheets in front of you.

You keep grading, trying to focus on your work and not the feeling of your heart tearing in two. Gojo continues laughing and talking to Shoko, their conversation drowned out by your heartbeat pounding in your ears. You wish you could ignore your jealousy, but it’s hard to ignore the anxiety creeping up your spine at the thought of Gojo finding someone else, especially if he could go public with them.

You know his reputation; the ladies' man, the bachelor. The guy no one can catch. But you know the real Gojo, the one that stays over at your small apartment even though he has his own, bigger place. The one that cuddles you every morning and whines when you try to get up and get ready.

You don’t know this Gojo. You felt like strangers.

For the rest of the day, you kept to yourself, grading papers and reading books to try to drown out the thoughts. He isn’t even looking at you when you leave the men’s cabin and head back to your own. You and the rest of the staff leave Nikko tonight, and you have one more day of freedom back in Tokyo before the new term begins.

You pack up your stuff and wait outside the bus, shoving your suitcase into the undercarriage. A headcount is done before you all start piling onto the bus. You sit in the back, pressed up against the frost-covered window. Headphones in and music blaring, you only look up from your phone when you feel someone warm sit next to you.

You’re a little surprised when you look up to see Gojo getting comfortable next to you. He didn’t sit next to you on the ride to Nikko, he sat up at the front with Shoko and Akari, claiming it would be suspicious if you sat together. He leans closer, so close that you can almost feel his breath on your neck. Then he grabs your arm, moving your headphones out of your ear.

“Don’t wear these in public,” he says in a low voice, “Someone might grab you from behind and pull you into the crowd.” He leans into you and whispers, “I almost missed you sitting back here.”

You should be mad, but you can’t be. His smell fills your nostrils and you feel yourself succumbing to him. You smile softly. “You didn’t, though.”

"I didn't." He leans back and sighs, resting his hands behind his head and stretching his arms out. You enjoy the warmth coming from him, the way it spreads through you. "What do you want to do when we get back home? We can head out to a bar and grab a drink. Or we could go get some ramen from that place you like. Or we can just go back to your place and we can spend some…quality time together.”

You bite your lip a little. You’re normally a little feral when it comes to Gojo, but going without his touch for eight days has almost sent you into a frenzy. “I like the sound of that last one…”

Gojo laughs and squeezes your hand, running his thumb along your knuckles. "And how bad do you want it?" He leans in closer until his face is inches away from yours. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, the tension in the air. "How badly do you miss me, baby?"

You can hardly think straight. Your mind is telling you to push him off, to stay upset with him for accepting that date with Shoko’s friend, whatever her name was. But your heart, and more importantly your pussy, is telling you differently.

Your mouth feels like cotton, but you manage to say, “So badly, Gojo. I’ve been aching without you. These past eight days have been driving me crazy.”

Gojo chuckles and traces your chin with his fingers, leaning even closer as his face towers over yours. "You missed me, huh? My pretty girl didn’t do so good without me, did she?" He strokes your cheek gently, smiling as you lean into his touch, feeling goosebumps rise on your skin. "Say it. Tell me what you've been wanting to tell me for the last eight days, what you didn't want to say in front of everyone."

The bus suddenly lurches and you remember where you are, on a cramped bus surrounded by your coworkers. You look around, nervous, hoping nobody caught you guys.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Gojo asks. He grabs your chin and turns you to face him. “Look at me.”

You do, nodding softly. You can’t see his eyes, but you can still feel him staring into your soul. “I am looking.”

“Then answer my question.” He says, dragging his thumb across your lips. You can hardly think straight already being this close to him, but the feeling of his thumb on your mouth is mind-numbing.

“I missed you,” you whimper. It’s been a long eight days since you last felt his touch, since you last felt his breath on your skin. As he continues to stroke your lip with his thumb, you feel your mind melt away into a puddle. His touch is like a drug, and you’re desperate to not end this feeling.

“I know you have.” He coos, moving his hand down as someone up by the front gets up from their seat to change positions. He waits until they sit down before speaking again, “I’ve missed you too.”

You sink further into the seat, hoping no one looks towards the back. The bus ride isn’t super long, only about two and a half hours. Maybe no one would think to check on you two until you made it back to Tokyo.

He reaches over and turns your face towards him again. “But that’s not all, is it?” His thumb glides across your neck, his eyes under his mask flicking between your own and your lips. You can’t look away. You don’t want to. “What else have you been thinking about?”

You gulp, your mouth dry. "It's been so hard without you. It's hard to fall asleep...and I've barely gotten any sleep here because I stay up all night thinking about you."

"You have?" His eyes search your face as his thumb strokes the length of your neck. "I haven't had the best sleep either. I kept thinking about you, about how much I missed you. Thinking about all of the things I wanted to do to you when I got back." He takes a deep breath, his eyes flicking to your lips, his breath coming out in hot puffs of air. "You make it so hard for me to have self-control. Do you know how hard it is to jerk off with Masamichi and Kiyotaka nearby?"

You nod, understanding him completely. You had tried to touch yourself, too, hoping that your fingers would feel the same but it felt weird to do it with Shoko and Akari in the same cabin. “I know. I haven’t cum since we left Tokyo.”

He hears the soft whine in your voice and grins. "You’re so tempting," His breath washes over you as he whispers those words in your ear. His hands trail from your neck to your cheek, his thumb brushing along your jawline. "Do you know what I want to do with you when we get to your place? What I'm thinking about doing to you right now?"

The bus takes a sharp turn going down the mountain and it snaps both of you back to reality for a second.

You notice his hands still on you. Gojo notices too and grins, removing his hands with a sigh. He leans back into the seat. "Sorry," he says, running his hands through his hair. "I was a little carried away there." He chuckles. "We have a while before the bus arrives. I think maybe I should go to the front before I do anything stupid."

You go to protest but he’s already gone, striding to the front of the bus effortlessly as it rocks side to side, plopping himself next to Akari. You sit there, your body still feeling the heat of his hands, his words still ringing in your ears. You sink deeper into the seat as you try to calm down. You watch him for a while, seeing how he talks and laughs with Akari and Shoko and the way he never glances back toward you.

You feel like a stranger to him, yet he’s the one who’s supposed to be yours. You were supposed to be together, even though your situation is less than ideal. The bus rocks back and forth, its engines humming quietly. You lean your head back against the seat, letting out a deep sigh. Your mind races, wondering how Gojo acts when you're not around. Did he only accept this date with Himiko to make Shoko happy? Why wasn't it ever you that made him happy?

You sniffle, blinking away the tears as you pull down the food tray and prop your phone up. You put on your favourite movie, hoping the familiar faces of the characters will distract you until you reach Tokyo. Occasionally you look up at him, hoping you’ll catch his eye before he goes back to his conversation but you don’t. He doesn’t look at you once.

The movie sucks you in like it has many times before. You don’t notice how fast time is moving, silver-tipped mountains giving way to serene towns and stretched farmland. It’s late, almost 1 am, and as soon as you feel yourself starting to fall asleep you feel the bus stop and hear the driver announce your arrival, right in front of Tokyo Jujutsu High.

You look over to see him already heading off of the bus with Shoko and Akari, heading in the direction of Kabukicho, laughing about an inside joke you’ll never be a part of. You grab your bag from the undercarriage and head to the train to head back to your apartment in Taito-Ku.

The train is packed full of tired salarymen and high school students, none of whom bother you. Your thoughts drift to Gojo as the train shakes and shudders its way back home. When the train finally reaches Taito-Ku’s station, you exit the train and head down the stairs, stepping out into the frozen city. You walk to your apartment and head inside, shutting the door to your small, solitary room.

You lie awake, hoping he’ll call you, or even show up at your front door drunk. It wouldn’t be the first time. The minutes turn into hours, your eyes shifting rapidly as you glance between your phone and the door. You start to wonder if he’s thinking about you as much as you’re thinking about him right now. And what he’s thinking. You glance at your clock. 2:57 AM.

You shouldn’t feel disappointed, but you do. He could’ve at least texted you and told you he would be out with his friends for the night instead of being curled up with you watching a cooking show. You’re his, but you’re not his girlfriend. He has no obligation to do anything with you, really, but you wish he would. You wish he cared enough to want to.

Your eyes glance back toward your phone and you hesitate. You mumble a curt fuck before picking it up and calling him. The phone is ice cold against your cheek as it rings. You wonder what your contact name is on his phone. Your name? Your name and a heart? Or is it just your number, unsaved?

He answers and you can hear faint music in the background. “Hey, baby.”

You smile a little, biting your lip. “Hi. I just wanted to see if you were coming over tonight.”

You hear him groan a little, but you don’t know if it’s out of annoyance with you or how late it is. “Yeah, I was planning on it. But uh, Shoko brought her friend tonight, Himiko. The one I’m going to the festival with.”

You nearly choke on your spit. The way he was so casual about his date with Himiko made you feel sick. “Oh, did she?”

“Yeah, baby. How are you though-” His words are interrupted by a female voice in the background begging for him to come back inside. “Uh, listen, I gotta go. I’ll be home soon, okay?”

“Okay, I-” The call ends, your phone beeping at you as he hangs up. You set your phone aside, face down, as you lay back on your bed.

You feel ashamed as you cry. Gojo isn’t your boyfriend, and he has a reputation to uphold with his colleagues. You should be fine with it, but you aren’t, and it kills you. You bury your face in your pillow as you sob, hoping one day you and Gojo can stop being strangers.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

part two is here

#keikiwrites #gojo x reader #gojo angst #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #f!reader #✿: gojo!

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