#Dark spirited away au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

katiexpunk · 2 months

Text

Desert Dust | Pairing Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're a small-town waitress in a highway town in Arizona with a standard, safe life. You never really thought you needed more -- until you met Joel Miller. Warnings: Joel is a consent king in this one. No age gap mentioned (make it your own). Self-deprecation. Toxic coworkers. Attempted assault (not by Joel)/nothing too graphic (please be responsible about what you consume). Joel beats up a bad guy. References to blood and first aid. Alcohol. Pet names. Flirting/slow burn. Objectification of Joel by readers coworker. Inexperienced reader. Body hair. References to taste of vagina. Smoking/cigarettes (it's bad, don't do it). References to shitty past hookups. Oral (f receiving). Praise kink. Size kink. Rough sex. Sex on a desk. Just a really passionate, filthy fuck. Creampie (shocker, I know). No use of Y/N, no use of daddy. TLOU au. Reader has no physical descriptions apart from female anatomy. W/C: ~8K. Sorrrrrrry, not sorry? A/N: Hi, hello. It's been a hot minute since I've been here! I took a hiatus for the past few months because life was, well, life and I was busy getting married. Happy to be back. This one was inspired by a drive through the Arizona desert. Special thanks to @syd-djarin for being a slut with me on this one. Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications | Read Joel's POV

Humans rely on cooperation, communication, and mutual aid for survival and well-being. Without that, it’s like being cast adrift in a hostile sea without the safety net of community and companionship.

You know this.

And so that’s why you stay, that’s why you’ve always stayed.

Even if most of your days feel lonely, at least you have the comfort of predictability.

++++

"I’m goin' on my break, Tracy," you call out, tossing the words casually over your shoulder as you grab your hoodie and a pack of American Spirit cigarettes from behind the counter. Sometimes you think the only reason you still have the damn vice is for the excuse to step out of the suffocating walls of the grease-drenched building they call a restaurant.

Tracy responds with a touch too much of feigned enthusiasm, pouring a steady stream of black liquid into the mug of the customer sitting in the booth before her.

With a nod of acknowledgment, you slip out the restaurant's back door, the hinges creaking softly in protest as you step into the crisp Arizona air. The sun hangs low in the sky, casting long shadows across the dusty ground as you light up your cigarette, the flame dancing in the breeze.

As you inhale deeply, the familiar taste of tobacco fills your lungs, calming your nerves and grounding you in the present moment. Leaning against the weathered brick wall, your thoughts drift as wisps of smoke curl lazily into the sky.

In the distance, you can hear the faint sound of laughter and chatter drifting from inside, a comforting reminder of the community that surrounds you. Here, amidst the tumbleweeds and endless blue skies, is a place you’ve called home since you ran away from yours at sixteen. It’s not much, but it’s something. Something is always better than nothing, right? People know you by name when you go to the grocery store, and know your order at the only coffee shop in town – big-city girls don’t get that.

As you take one last drag from your cigarette, you try to summon feelings of gratitude for what you do have, but as the smoke dissipates into the desert air, a lingering sense of restlessness gnaws at the edges of your mind.

It's only when you stamp out the cigarette in the dirt below, watching the embers fade into darkness, that you dare to entertain the notion that perhaps you could have more.

++++

You step back into the restaurant, and your eyes adjust to the fluorescent lights above, a stark contrast from the natural light of the sun. Carefully tucking your hoodie away and readjusting your apron strings, you prepare to dive back into work.

As you glance around, you notice Tracy frantically pacing back and forth behind the bar, her demeanor tinged with a hint of frazzled energy. It's not the busiest you've ever been, but for her, every customer that walks through the door feels like a tidal wave of chaos – especially when it’s just you two on the floor.

With a sympathetic smile, you nod in understanding as she thrusts a stack of menus into your hands, followed by a piping hot coffee pot. "Be a doll and go take table three’s order, will ya?" she says, her voice tinged with urgency. Before you can even acknowledge her request, she’s off, stacking her forearms with plates, yelling that she’ll be right there honey to the patrons by the door.

You make your way over to the table, weaving through the maze of booths and tables with practiced ease. As you approach, you notice a lone figure sitting hunched over in a worn leather jacket, eyes fixed on the menu in front of him. He sits up to full height and adjusts himself in the booth, eyes still on the sticky plastic in front of him, giving you a full view of his side profile.

Fuck – he’s gorgeous. Handsome in a way that unmoors you.

Rugged, weathered charm exudes from him. He turns to look at you and oh. His salt-and-pepper curls frame a face weathered by sun and wind, a beard streaked with grey adding an air of distinguished maturity. His eyes are soft and brown, enveloped by small creases in the corners.

Your thighs come flesh with the edge of the table, and with the coffee pot in hand, you can't help but feel a flutter of anticipation in the pit of your stomach, settling there like a stack of pancakes eaten way too fast.

Clearing your throat, you offer him a tentative smile. Get a grip – he’s just another customer, you silently plead with yourself.

"Hi," you say, your voice a little softer than usual. "Can I get you something to drink?"

As his eyes meet yours, a brief but intense connection crackles between you. There's something in his gaze, a depth that you can't quite decipher, leaving his thoughts shrouded in mystery. His face remains stony, and unreadable, like the weathered cliffs that dot the desert landscape.

Your breath hitches in your throat as you follow his eyes drifting down your chest, lingering for a moment on the nametag pinned to the worn cotton of your uniform. Heat rises to your cheeks under his scrutiny. You wish you would have opted for your cleaner uniform this morning. You’ve never been one to care too much about your looks, mostly because nobody looks at you, not really. All catcalls from drunk men in bars and the occasional flirty customer. But you’re suddenly hyper-aware of the attention he’s giving.

His eyes finally settle on the coffee pot in your hand, a subtle shift in focus that breaks the spell of tension between you. "Just coffee, darlin'," he says, his voice honey-thick, low, and raspy like the rumble of distant thunder.

You nod silently, the words caught in your throat as you turn to pour him a steaming cup of coffee.

“You let me know if I can get you anything else,” you whisper, letting the corners of your lips turn up into a small, cordial, smile.

“Just coffee for me today, sweetheart, thank you.”

Walking away, you can’t help but notice the feeling of the weight of his gaze lingering on you long after you do.

He sits in silence, nursing his coffee with a quiet intensity that commands attention. His presence seems to cast a shadow over the room, drawing the gaze of both patrons and staff alike. You steal glances at him between customers and try not to read into the fact that his eyes are usually on you by the time you find him. He’s not staring – he couldn’t be – why would he be? You shove the thought down and focus on your tasks at hand, him calling you sweetheart playing like a broken record in your mind, over and over.

Tracy, usually bustling about with the frenetic energy of a hummingbird, is unusually attentive to him. She stops by his table more often than necessary, refilling his cup with a gentle touch and addressing him with a warmth you've rarely seen her reserve for anyone else. You swear you even saw her push her tits up behind the wall before going out to him – but you can’t blame her, you’d probably do the same if you had as much to work with as she does.

As you work behind the bar counter, wiping down tables and clearing plates, Tracy tries to engage you in conversation about the mysterious stranger. "Been a long time since we've had a man like that in here," she says, a hint of gossip in her voice, wrapped pretty in a bow of objectification. She reminds you of a praying mantis, attempting to draw in her prey before she eats him.

"Yeah," you murmur, not quite wanting to talk about him, especially not with her.

Excusing yourself, you slip into the bathroom, the wooden door offering a momentary respite. Leaning against the slightly sticky surface, you close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of composure. But despite your efforts, you can't shake the feeling that something has shifted. Looking at the reflection in the mirror, you can’t help but feel the twisty weird tug that pools in your lower belly, and the uptick in your heart rate. You attempt to fix your hair and pinch your cheeks to add some volume to your face. You slip on a touch of chapstick and assess yourself. This is so fucking stupid. He’s a customer. Just a customer. You’re just bored, horny, and alone.

But maybe he is, too?

No. Stop.

After a moment, you emerge from the bathroom, only to find his table empty, a worn $20 bill – more than enough to cover his check – left behind as a silent farewell. Your heart sinks at the realization that he's gone, slipping away like a ghost in the night. Shit.

You didn't even catch his name, and now he's just another fleeting memory, a stranger passing through your life like a whisper in the wind. And though you try to convince yourself that it doesn't matter, that you'll forget about him by morning.

But when dawn breaks the next day, he’s the first thought that crosses your mind.

++++

The days turn into weeks, each blending seamlessly into the next in the endless cycle of small-town life. But amidst the monotony of routine, there's a flicker of anticipation that ignites in your chest every time you step foot into the restaurant – the hope that he might, too.

Stupid, silly little small-town girl.

You’re in the middle of bussing a rather messy table, throwing empty plates and glasses into a bucket after the lunch rush when the sound of bells above the door and heavy boot steps echoes through the restaurant. Not looking up from the table, you yell out take a seat wherever you want, throwing the final pieces of flatware into the bin. Raising it to your hip, your attention finally snaps to the customer and fuck –

You freeze there.

His hand lifts in a simple greeting.

His presence is a magnetic force that shifts the air in the room. Clad in the same worn leather jacket and a dark tee, he exudes a silent, sturdy confidence. You know nothing about him, but you feel like you’d trust him with your life.

“Oh, hi. Um, go ahead and take a seat, I’ll be with you in just a second, just gonna drop this in the back,” you say, trying to hide your smile, your excitement.

He’s a customer. Not a bored and horny customer. Just a customer.

As he settles into the booth next to the window, you can't help but feel a rush of excitement coursing through your veins. You greet him again with a smile, your voice warm with genuine affection, and he nods in return, his gaze lingering on you for just a moment longer than necessary.

But before you can exchange more than a few words, Tracy swoops in like a hawk, eager to monopolize his attention. She's quick to bring him a menu, bring him a coffee, and offer him a selection of homemade pies, her enthusiasm bordering on overwhelming.

You watch from afar, a pang of frustration chewing at the edges of your composure like a moth to cloth in an old closet. It's as if Tracy has staked her claim on him, leaving little room for anyone else to form a connection. And yet, despite her best efforts, you can still feel the weight of his attention on you, a silent reassurance that you're not alone in this silent dance of whatever the fuck this is.

You think that maybe it’s all in your head – maybe he is into Tracy, and you’re confusing his affection for something it’s not. It wouldn’t be the first time. Lord knows you’re no stranger to having one too many vodka sodas and pining after the affection of the first person who looks at you, crying in the passenger seat of a truck of some guy who gave you attention hours before.

Lord know how many nights you check your phone every three seconds just to be disappointed. Too busy begging for the love of someone who doesn’t want you, and never will. Yet you’re just so hopeful. Hopeful that one day it might not feel this way, hopeful that someone will want you back.

You wonder if you want so desperately to be seen, that you’d twisted every lingering glance, smile, and hello, for something it’s not.

When you enter the dining room, your heart once again sinks when you notice him rising from his booth, getting ready to leave. His eyes catch yours and you give him a small wave goodbye. He holds yours while he tucks something under his coffee cup, giving you a nod, letting you know that he wants you to pick it up. His face is unreadable when he eventually walks out.

Walking over to the table, you notice cash tucked neatly under an empty coffee mug. But you notice something else, too. A worn business card for Joel Miller, CEO of Miller Brothers Contracting. It’s a simple card, just his name and an email on the front. But when you turn it over, you’re surprised to find a phone number scribbled on the back.

Maybe it’s not all in your head. ++++

Later that night, standing in the dark alley of the restaurant, the cement damp from the afternoon rain, Tracy's words hang heavy in the air like a dense cloud of cigarette smoke. You listen in silence as she talks about him, her tone laced with a confidence that borders on arrogance.

"I think I'm gonna ask him to get a drink," she says, her voice carrying a hint of excitement. "I think he's into me. I mean, come on, who else stops in and only orders coffee, and leaves a tip like he does? Even caught him looking at my ass once."

Her words cut through the stillness of the desert night, harsh and abrasive in contrast to the quiet solitude that surrounds you. Tracy has always been one to flaunt her looks, to revel in the attention of men like Joel who pass through the diner's doors. There aren’t many.

But as you listen to her speak, a knot forms in the pit of your stomach, a silent warning that this pursuit of Joel may lead to heartbreak for one or both of you. You've seen the way he looks at you, the way his eyes linger on you when he thinks no one else is watching. You slip your hand into the apron and thumb over the paper of his business card.

You want to warn her, to tell her to tread carefully, but the words catch in your throat like smoke caught in a breeze. Instead, you offer her a weak smile, masking the turmoil brewing beneath the surface.

"Yeah, Tracy," you say, your voice tinged with forced enthusiasm. "Go for it. You deserve someone who appreciates you."

But as she stubs out her cigarette and heads back into the restaurant you can't help but smirk knowing he gave his card to you.

It’s finally your turn to be wanted.

But you don’t call, or text him. You want to, you do, but you don’t know what to say, or where to begin. You’re so out of practice when it’s something that matters. It’s easier to pretend he still wants you if you don’t break the illusion—or that’s the lie you tell yourself, anyway.

++++

Some weeks later, you find yourself alone in the empty restaurant – Tracy having called out for the night. It’s slow. Way too slow. The late hour weighs heavy on your shoulders. George, the cook, went home almost an hour ago. You work to check off the tasks on your list before you leave for the night, and eventually accomplish everything except filling the salt shakers.

You could have sworn you turned off the neon open sign and locked the doors until the familiar sound of bells chimes through the empty restaurant.

“We’re closed,” you yell out, twisting the final cap on the last salt shaker.

Your eyes flicker up to find a large man stumbling through the door, his presence heavy with the unmistakable scent of whiskey and cigarettes. He doesn’t look so good, his skin is pale and damp, eyes glassed over.

You rise from your booth, a sense of unease prickling at the back of your mind as you approach him. Despite your better judgment, you tell him to take in any booth of his choice, while you head behind the bar to grab him a glass of water. When you set it down in front of him, he bristles at your gesture, his words slurred and tinged with aggression at the fact that you brought him fucking water. Your patience wears thin as he rebuffs your offer, his tone sharp and abrasive.

"Just trying to help you out here" you snap, a hint of irritation creeping into your voice. You’re not sure where the irritation is coming from, but it feels right – natural – a built-in defense mechanism. But instead of backing down, he responds with a menacing snarl, his hand shooting out to grip your wrist in a bruising hold. Panic surges through you as you try to pull away, his grip tightening with each futile attempt.

"Let me go," you plead, the fear evident in your voice as he rises from the booth and crowds you against a nearby table, condiments spilling over the edge of the table. His hands move to grip your upper arms with a forceful intensity. You stumble slightly, the weight of his presence pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket, your head turned to the side to avoid having to look at him. “I’ll tell you what, you little bitch –”

You feel the rapid beat of your pulse, the thrum of blood in your veins. You struggle against the man. Your inner voice screams danger, but just as you feel the panic rising in your chest, the familiar sound of chimes rings through your ears. Within seconds, a new figure looms into view, his broad frame casting a shadow over the scene unfolding before you – to you. With a swift movement, he pulls the man off of you, his voice a growl of warning as he asserts his dominance.

“I’d think twice if I were you before you try and win this one,” Joel says, voice low and threatening.

It's him.

Relief floods through you at the sight of him, a silent thank you echoing in your mind as he stands between you and the aggressor. And as he faces off with the man, his protective stance speaks volumes. Your mind goes a little fuzzy from the adrenaline as you watch the man struggle in his grasp, followed by a slur of cuss words, ultimately ending in Joel punching him in the face, the harsh sound of bone to face.

It shouldn’t turn you on, the violence of it all, but it sort of does. The outward display in your defense appeals to the primitive, underived part of your brain, the way a knight would defend a maiden’s honor.

He drags the man out of the establishment, and you hear him tell him to get the fuck out and never come back.

He locks the door and turns to face you. Your arms come up to grab yourself in an instinctual hug, your body is a little shaky from the interaction. Without saying anything, he walks over to you, bringing both of his hands to the sides of your arms – the same place where the man had grabbed you – but his touch feels different. Gentle, reassuring, safe.

“You alright?” he says, a deep crease between his brow as he looks down at you, his eyes filled with concern.

“I’m alright – tha,” your words break a little, and you start to feel hot tears cling to your lashline, “thank you,” you manage to blurt out, avoiding looking at him in the eyes, not wanting him to see yours all teary.

He brings a hand up to cup your cheek and uses the edge of his thumb to tilt you up to look at him. You bring your hand to meet his on your cheek and notice a sticky sensation under your palm. You grab his hand and bring it down to your eye level, noticing the blood on it, a giant split down the middle of one of his knuckles. Jesus, if his hand looks like this, what must that guy’s face look like?

"You're hurt," you say, the tears in your eyes now replaced with genuine concern. "It's okay, don't worry about it, doesn't hurt," he reassures, but you can tell he's probably lying.

"We've got a first aid kit in the back. Let me clean you up," you insist, nodding towards the rear of the room.

"It’s alright sweetheart, you don't have to, really…" he protests.

"You just defended me. Bandaging your knuckles is the least I can do to thank you," you tell him firmly, leaving no room for refusal.

Interlacing your fingers with his on his left hand, you guide him through the restaurant.

Navigating through the kitchen, smelling of oil and french fries, you caution him to watch his step on the freshly mopped yet always greasy floors.

In the small office, you flick on the light switch and rummage through the cabinets until you find an old first aid kit tucked away in the back. Joel leans against the desk, quietly observing you. "Ah, got it," you say with a hint of excitement that you found the kit, a little surprised there was even one stashed away. Though most of the bandages and finger condoms are missing, there's still plenty of gauze and alcohol wipes.

He stands silently, watching as you work to open the kit, his eyes fixed on you, particularly when you rip open the alcohol wipe with your teeth. "This might sting a bit," you warn, meeting his gaze with genuine care.

“You can make it up to me later,” he whispers. His tone, the intention behind his words sends an exciting zap down your spine. There’s shared silence. As you’re patting the blood on his knuckles, that same feeling of raw want, painted with uncertainty, settles in your stomach.

“Can I ask you something,” he says, and you flick your eyes up to meet his for a moment before lowering them back down his hand. You let out a soft mhmm in response, knowing his question before he’s even asked it.

“Why didn’t you call?”

The boldness of his question stops you. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. “I wanted to. I mean, I almost did – I typed out so many texts to you it’s borderline embarrassing,” you pause for a second to grab the gauze from the counter behind him. You lean in close enough to catch the scent of him – cedarwood and fresh cotton, the earthy scent of desert dust clinging to his clothes.

“I guess I’m just not used to being wanted. Don’t know how to do this kind of thing. I’ve been alone for so long, and I guess, I don’t know, Joel,” you affix a little piece of tape to the gauze, before dropping his hand, all finished.

You stand before him, looking at his chest and the bare skin on his neck that’s dotted with freckles, avoiding his eyes.

“I didn’t want to embarrass myself. Not sure why a guy like you would even want a girl like me to call him anyway…” you trail off, letting out a small cough to hide the emotion creeping up in your throat. Have you always been this self-deprecating?

His hands float up to your hips, and he tugs you in closer to him, body weight still propped up against the desk, his thick thighs bracketing yours. You still avoid his eyes, your gaze fixed on a button on his shirt in front of you.

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

The bandaged hand trails up over the side of your body, and his fingers land under your chin, his thumb tilting you up to look at him. You’re sure you must look like a mess, eyes tired from a long shift, mascara smudged from your tears. How pathetic you must look. The pad of his thumb caresses over your lips and you hold your breath.

There’s so much he could say, so much he wants to say. He wants to build you up, to tell you that you’re worthy of the whole world. That you’re beautiful and kind, and that any man would be lucky to have you. He doesn’t even have to deeply know you to know those things.

But he can tell from the look in your eyes that it’s not what you need right now. He’ll tell you someday. He’ll tell you every day if you’ll have him.

But no.

Right now you don’t need someone to tell you how gorgeous you are, you need someone to show you.

“Joel,” you say, your voice just above a whisper. His thumb is still on your lower lip.

“Ki–” Before you can continue, his hand drops, and his lips crash into yours and he groans. He wants to rip you open, eat you raw, to devour every inch of you. You’ve had plenty of kisses, but none like this – none full of such heat, a fiery intensity, a need. He wants you. Joel wants you.

He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and you let out a little whimper. The sweet sound goes straight to his already hardening cock. He holds you tighter to his chest, thick and capable hands on your hips as he dips his mouth to your neck, kitten-kissing you as delicately as a man his size can. He skims his injured hand underneath your shirt, caressing the skin between your shoulder blades. Your breath hitches in your throat as he nips at your jaw, eliciting a soft moan from you. And oh – he likes that.

“Fuck, baby. Wanna go slow with you, take my time. Do it right,” he says, his voice a little wrecked already and he’s barely touched you.

His hand trails up and pulls the shirt of your uniform down over your breast, exposing the simple lacey bra you’ve had for far too long. You would be embarrassed about him seeing it if you weren’t so aroused, drunk on his touch. You continue to let out little moans as he kisses your neck, and thumbs at your nipple beneath the fabric.

“Wanna show you what you’re worthy of sweet girl, in all the ways,” he groans into your chest.

His words melt into you like butter, making you feel all soft and weak-limbed, fuzzy in a way that’s new to you.

“I want you to fuck me so badly,” you blurt out, lost in the delusion of arousal. The words come naturally for a girl who never really had more than a one-night stand or some shitty fuck from a guy who drank too much whiskey – his dick half-hard, promising he’ll rock your world.

That does it for him.

Joel’s cock is rock hard, with an almost painful stiffness. He wants so badly for you to just fall to your knees in this tiny little office and suck it. He wants so badly to hold the column of your throat while he shoves his thick cock into your wet and waiting mouth, feel him deep down your throat.

But as much as he needs that right now, he knows he has an obligation. To make you feel good. To make you feel good about yourself in every way.

He hopes to god that you’ll chant his name like a prayer when he unravels you like a spool of thread. He can hear it in his head now, as he licks your soft skin and holds you against him. He can’t stop thinking about how pretty you’ll sound when you come for him.

“Patience, angel baby. You’re in good hands,” he purrs. If you weren’t so hazy you might’ve made a joke about him only having one good hand at the moment. He would chuckle at that, you briefly think, before his husky voice speaks again.

“Can I undress you?” he asks. You’ve never been asked that, most of the other men we’re quick just to take your clothes off. Too sloppy, too eager – careless. You’re starting to realize how hot consent is.

You toe off your beat-up sneakers and work to take off your shirt and bra, all while Joel unbuttons your skirt. You wiggle your hips to assist him in removing the barrier. After what seems like no time at all, you’re nearly fully nude in front of him, bare save the thin cotton of your panties. As a reflex, you cross your arms over your chest in an attempt to hide your body, wishing you could blend into the wallpaper.

“God damn, sweetheart. Look at you,” Joel says, taking a small step back and admiring the view. He looks at you like you’re a masterpiece, a piece of art holding court just for him to gaze at.

He gently grabs the arm you’re covering yourself with and exposes your bare chest. Goosebumps collect like pebbles on your skin from the cool air, and your nipples harden from the significance of the moment.

“No need’ta hide from me,” he assures you. You believe him.

You push your chest out to him, for him. He accepts your offering; swipes a calloused thumb across your plush, silky nipple, and crouches to catch the other in his desperate mouth. He groans into your chest the second your nipple meets his lips. You can’t control the deep hum that escapes from your throat. Joel smirks at the sound, lips still attached to your breast.

“Feels so good, Joel,” you moan. You have of course played with your nipples when you touched yourself, but you’ve never had a man pay so much attention to them, to be gentle and firm at the same time.

He trails kisses down the valley of your breasts, across the soft swell of your stomach, whispering sweet praises as he does. You drape your hands over his broad shoulders and thread your fingers through the curls that gather on the back of his head as he works his way down to the band of your panties. Much like your bra, you’d wish you opted for a cuter pair of underwear. Not like you own any anyway, but something tells you he could give two shits about that right now.

On his knees, he places both of his hands on the curves of your hips and holds you steady while he looks up at you. He looks up at you with a softness you’ve never seen in a man, his pupils so dark they edge out most of the brown, his hooded eyes are almost a plea for you to let him continue.

“Can I take these off, baby?” he asks, already hooking his thumbs in the band of them, awaiting your permission.

You pause with your mouth agape a bit, not quite sure what to say. Every fiber of your being wants you to say yes, yes, yes. But you’re nervous – you haven’t shaved, and you remember Tracy saying something about men not liking hair on women, especially not on their pussy — a man won’t even eat you out if you’ve not been properly groomed.

What if you taste weird? What if he doesn’t like it? You’ve only been eaten out once if you can even classify it as such, and he was down there for maybe two seconds before he was rising and wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand, claiming whatever you’re wet enough before shoving his rather average cock into your pussy, paying no mind to you or your pleasure.

“You, um, you don’t have to. It’s okay, really…” you shy away, trying to give Joel an out.

His prominent nose presses into your mound and he moans, moans, at your smell.

“Smell so sweet, need to taste you, sweetheart. I won’t if you don’t want me to, but fuck, I would love to,” he says, the truth behind his voice evident in his tone. His cock twitches against the confines of his jeans.

He suspects you’ve never had a real man take care of you, taking the time to pleasure you to your heart’s content. A damn shame, he thinks.

“O-kay,” you say on an exhale. You’re determined to not let the negative thoughts swirling in your head win.

“I gotcha, don’t worry,” he rasps out, his voice equal parts gentle, and gruff with desire.

He gently tugs the fabric down over your thighs, the fabric gathering at your ankles. You take a small step out of them, and he gently caresses up the back of your calve, and back of your thigh, his hand landing on the curve of your ass. He tightly grabs the flesh there. He gently guides your leg up onto one of his shoulders, and you press back into the wall and lean your pelvis closer to him.

“Fuck, what a pretty little pussy,” he praises, before leaning in to place an experimental kiss on the top of your mound. You let out a soft little sound at the feeling of his lips on your skin. He looks up at you once again, making sure you aren’t uncomfortable, before once again returning his attention to your cunt.

He gets bold with his kisses, and once you’re comfortable with his mouth on you, he glides the middle finger of his non-bandaged hand through your wet slit before flipping it so it’s wrist up, pausing with the pad of it right at the entrance of your tight hole. You look down at him with lusty doe eyes and bite your lower lip in anticipation, still a little nervous. He looks at you and gently nudges the nip in, he holds it there for a brief second, before fully thrusting it up into your core, holding your gaze as he enters you. You gasp.

“Fuck angel, you’re tight,” he moans as he continues to feel you, eventually putting his mouth back on your pussy, his lips sealed around your puffy clit. His large finger pumps in and out of you as his tongue flicks and swirls where you need him the most.

“More,” you moan, “Fuck–please, Joel, give me more,” you mewle.

“That’s my girl, gonna stretch you out, get you nice and ready for this cock,” he whispers against your wet skin as he slips another finger in, one you greedily accept. He devours you, licks at you like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. It’s so precise, so overwhelming, so fucking good.

Heat pools in your lower abdomen, and the world goes a little fuzzy at the edges of your vision. You’ve had an orgasm before, you think, but you don’t remember it feeling like this.

You moan as he sets a relentless pace with his mouth and fingers, slowly tightening the coil inside of you in a way you’ve never felt before. Time slows for a brief moment and your vision goes white, little specks of light dancing behind your eyelids, heat rushing up to your chest and cheeks.

Until –

“Holy shit, yes, I’m coming, oh my god, don’t stop,” you unravel for him, a babbling mess of pleasure, he holds you steady as he works you through it. And when he’s satisfied that you’re satisfied, he gently hoists your leg off of his shoulder and rises to his full height.

“Such a good girl for me, you come so pretty,” he whispers against your neck, nipping at your jaw until his lips find yours. You taste yourself on them, feel the wetness in his beard. He slips his tongue into your mouth and you moan. It’s so hot to taste yourself on him, dizzying that he’s not wiping it away. He wants you. Joel wants you.

The daze of your release wears off, hurling you back down to earth. Joel kept his promise, he did show you what you’re worthy of. No more mediocre, subpar sex for you. You are worthy of that. Deserve that and more. It’d be rude of you not to return the favor.

On jelly-like legs, you begin to kneel before him, wanting nothing more than to be a practitioner of pleasure, to elicit another good girl from him. He stops you before your knees touch the floor.

“You don’t want me to suck your cock?” you ask, feeling a sting of rejection.

“Oh angel baby, I would love to feel those sweet little lips of yours wrapped tight around my cock, hold your throat as you choke on me,” he coos.

You bring your palm to cup him through his jeans and he groans, your hands trace over the thick shape. He’s big. You watch as his jaw tightens and his head falls back as you work over him. You can’t help but feel excited when you feel a damp spot on his jeans, the place where his pre-come has gathered.

“But there’s something I want more right now. Feel what you do to me?” he says, pressing your hand harder down onto him. “Need to feel that sweet, tight cunt of yours around me first,” he says with intensity, an urgency in his voice. You make quick work of undoing his belt buckle and slip off his jeans and boxers in one swoop.

Truly seeing him, the sight of his heavy cock in all its glory, makes your mouth water a little.

“Yo–you’re so big,” you say, a little intimidated. He grabs you by the hips and holds you tight against him, his cock pressed between your bodies against the bare flesh of your tummy. You think you might actually feel him there when he’s inside you at this rate.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. You can take it,” he says, using one hand to grab the back of your thigh and tapping the other. You get the memo. He lifts you and spins you around so you’re sitting on the mahogany desk behind you, your damp skin sticking to the mess of customer receipts and supply lists underneath you. He stands between your legs, holding himself by the base, pumping himself slowly up and down his length. “I’m on birth control,” you say, blurting it out. “And I’m clean, you don’t have to use a condom, I mean, if you don’t want to.” And shit – that’s music to his fucking ears.

“Okay. Open your legs wide for me, baby. Wanna see you,” he says, and you do. He juts his head down and spits onto it, using his fist to work it onto himself. You hold your legs open in a V, bracing yourself with your arms behind you. Your ass hangs slightly off the edge of the desk, just enough for him to have full access and view of your glistening slit.

He positions himself at your entrance and gently pushes his hips forward so the tip of him is inside of you. He pauses there, giving you a second to adjust. Your heart throbs in your chest, and your eyes flicker closed.

“Eyes on me, baby. Wanna see you as I take what’s mine,” he says, his voice a wreck. When you open them, he sinks even deeper. Halfway inside of you, he pauses again.

“Okay?” he asks. You nod.

You can tell he’s holding back, not wanting to hurt you. And while you may be out of practice, you know your body was made for this. You feel so full, so content, you just want to feel all of him. After he’s confident you’re ready, he pushes his hips forward once again, fully burying himself deep inside of you.

Your pussy walls clench against him, and your jaw goes slack. You were right, you do feel him in your tummy. He’s so fucking big, but god, it feels good. It’s like he’s stuffing and filling all of the lonely spaces that have been hiding inside of you for so long. Like he was made for you.

He sets a slow and steady rhythm at first, dragging in and out of you. You can tell he wants to fuck you harder, deeper. You can tell that he’s waiting for you to take it there, to give him that permission.

“You can fuck me harder, Joel. ‘M not gonna break, I promise,” you coo. His hand at your hip flexes tighter, and that’s all he needs. “Shit, c’mere,” he says, helping you off the desk, steading your legs. He flips you over and presses you against the desk, your bare breasts flesh against the cool wood, your hips perfectly positioned at the edge, bent over and waiting to once again be stuffed.

He stands behind you, angles your hips up slightly, and once again buries himself in you.

“Such a perfect cunt,” he groans, beginning to set a relentless pace. Something about this angle does something for you, too. His cock fits just right, pushing and gliding over the spongey spot inside of you that makes you see stars. He holds your hips tightly as he pumps in and out of you, eliciting throaty moans from you. The air is filled with the filthy wanton sound of skin slapping against skin.

“I –” you mew, “I think I’m gonna come again,” you say, breathless.

“Come for me, baby. Be the good girl I know you are and show me how pretty you are when you come on my cock,” he says, a little out of breath, voice deep.

Good girl. Pretty. Come for him.

And you do. Your pussy pulses around him as the wave of your orgasm takes over you, your mind hazy and filled with nothing but the thought of the way he fills you just right.

His movements begin to slow. You can tell he’s close.

“Where do you want me, baby?”

“Inside, please. Want you to fill me up, make me yours,” you rasp, beg.

After a few more thrusts of his hips, he begins to stutter and slow. He pauses buried to the hilt inside of you and groans as his cock paints your insides with thick ropes of come.

He holds you there, both of your breaths coming a little ragged, his body shaking and jolting a little. You feel him pulse inside of you. You’re not sure you’ve ever felt this content, utterly blissed out from the feeling of him – all of him – deep inside of you.

When he pulls out, you let out a small moan, a little sad your pussy has nothing to clench around anymore. He tells you to stay there for a second before he returns with a handful of paper towels from the kitchen to help clean you up.

He kisses you again. It’s different this time, not as intense as the first few, but just as hot, just as passionate. The same pull you felt the moment he first entered the restaurant.

He helps you get dressed, and you fasten his belt buckle for him and check the gauze on his fist. You both stand there in silence, not quite sure where to go from here, until he offers up.

“Wanna smoke?”

++++

“So, how long have you lived here’?” he asks, holding open the lit zippo from his back pocket to you. With the cigarette dangling between your lips, you steady it between your fingers and lean in, the dim glow of the fire illuminates your features.

“Too long,” you mumble, taking a big drag. Now you get why in movies after a really good sex scene the characters always want a cigarette. You watch as he lights his own.

“And you, where are you off to next?” You don’t want him to leave.

“Not sure, the contract job my brother and I have in the county over ends in a week or so. Was thinkin’ it might be nice to head south, maybe Austin,” he responds, smoke dancing in the air around him.

Your stomach twists a bit at the thought. Don’t go.

“Although, ‘M not so sure anymore. Starting to think I might have a few things I need to take care of here first,” he says, shifting his gaze from the ground until his hooded eyes find yours.

He gives you a subtle wink. You smile.

You stand there in comfortable silence, leaning up against the wall next to him, taking in the crisp desert air, enjoying being next to him.

And when it’s time to go, he offers you his hand and a ride home. You accept.

But this time when you stamp out the cigarette, watching the embers fade into darkness, you fully entertain the notion that not only could you have more.

You will.

Especially if Joel has anything to say about it.

END

Or if you want, you can read Joel’s POV here.

Tagging some moots cuz I'm sure Tumblr will probably fuck my engagement on this one since I haven't posted in forever :/ If you like this, please consider a reblog (dm me if you want to be removed): @endlessthxxghts @theoasisofthings @pedrostories @bastardmandennis @milly-louise @ghostwritesthings @josephquinnswhore @drunk-and-capable @hellishjoel @survivingandenduring @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro @amyispxnk @paleidiot @ghostwritesthings @kulekehe @darkheartgatita @goldenhxurs @javiscigarette @morallyinept @ro-nahime-things @gwendibleywrites @missladym1981 @auteurdelabre @morgaussy

ily.

#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller the last of us #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal character #pedrohub #pedrostories #consent #joel miller #joel miler x fem!reader #joel miller fanfic

2K notes · View notes

dalekofchaos · 1 month

Text

AU Asami is Amon by nikoniko_808

Give me the forbidden enemies to lovers Korrasami

Okay I wrote up my own au of Asami as Amon

Hiroshi and Asami witnessed the death of Asami’s mother at the hands of the Red Lotus society. Asami swore revenge on all benders. The corruption of Benders has gone too far and Asami and her father cannot let it continue. So they create a movement. The Equalists. Near the end of season 1. Asami would be nowhere to be seen. The Krew believes the Equalists have kidnapped Asami and when Korra confronts Amon, they don’t see her.

Tarrlok is still captured by Amon, when Korra sees him and they chat, he tells the whole story of Amon as it happened in the show to her and everything. Like it goes in the show. Korra and friends go to confront Amon at the arena where Tenzin and his family are about to lose their bending. But they don’t because she gets there in time. She accuses Amon of being a bender, as per Tarrlok’s story. Amon doesn’t unmask. And he isn’t a bender. Tarrlok lied to get Korra to confront Amon so that he could capture her and he could hopefully save his own skin for the service at least. They fight. Amon takes Korra’s bending in a big demonstrative way. So all the crowd can see what comes to any benders, especially The Avatar who stand against him. Then the reveal happens. Asami is Amon.

In order to get her bending back and learn how to give others their bending back (yeah, Korra wouldn’t get it back at the end of Book 1 because consequences? What’re those?), Korra has to go on a quest to learn her bending(her masters would be Toph, Katara, Izumi and Tenzin) in the Spirit World to understand everything. Korra does not cry about loosing her bending because she realized she’s still The Avatar and has to go to The Spirit World to get her bending back, to help everyone get their bending back and stop Asami

Throughout the series, we would meet Kya, Bumi, Izumi, Eska, Desna(Eska and Desna would be Korra’s siblings in this universe, because fuck Unaloq) Opal and Kai. We have the same romance between Bolin and Opal and Jinora and Kai. We would also meet Varrick and Zhu Li, because they are comedy gold. They would all help in the fight against Amon and the Equalists.

In Korra’s venture to the Spirit World,

she would still see Wan’s story(because that’s the only thing I liked about Book 2) and I think in her journey in the spirit world she would see Asami’s story, in which her family were victims of the Red Lotus society and Asami learned to take bending away in the spirit world. Not only that, we would find out that Asami would be bonded with Vaatu. Asami is the darker Avatar.

Before she leaves The Spirit World she connects with all her past lives to ask what she should do about Asami. Korra has her Aang moment where she has too has to decide what to do like he did with the fire lord, only this time there’s more to it than just stopping the bad guy. It’s about the person she loved. She can restore everyone’s bending by reversing Amon’s convergence, but she can’t do that so long as the avatar spirit is split. And as long as Asami is part avatar, she can go into the avatar state. That’s still pretty damn dangerous even with only water and blood bending. Korra realizes the only thing she can do to stop Asami? Love her.

After her journey to relearn her bending and journey in the spirit world, Korra travels the world to gain allies. From the Fire Nation, Earth Kingdom, Water Tribes and Air Nomads. Korra unites the world against Amon and the Equalists.

In the final fight, Korra defeats Amon. She exorcises Vaatu from Asami, thus ending the dark Avatar and stopping Amon’s convergence. She reverses what Asami has done and uses it to restore everyone’s bending. So she has to come to the hard part. Amon makes it clear, no matter what, even without the ability to energy bend or without Vaatu, Amon will never stop, Benders will never be safe. Korra shows Asami what she was denied. Korra loves her and forgives her. Asami gives up and accepts whatever punishment.

During Book 3, Asami would work with Korra in stopping and killing the Red Lotus society. However, when Zaheer is stopped. He is left at the mercy of Asami and for everything he’s done and turned her into. Asami kills him.

Book 4 happens. Asami’s redemption is rebuilding Republic City and using Future Industries to repair the damage she’s done as Amon. Blah blah blah Korra stops Kuvira blah blah. Asami earns her redemption and the love of Republic City, the krew and more importantly Korra. Ends with Korra and Asami venturing in the Spirit World and ends with a kiss.

#Legend Of Korra #Korra #Asami Sato #Korrasami #Amon #Equalist!Asami #Equalist Asami

2K notes · View notes

dolcettamagica · 30 days

Text

𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝐈'𝐦 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬, 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞

virgin!sukuna x virgin!reader, modern delinquent au

request: can you write modern au!sukuna and fem reader taking each others virginity with a established relationship tags: fluff, fingering, penetration, petnames (princess, baby, babygirl), sukuna is a delinquent; @mangiswig notes: minors dni, sukuna is lowkey ooc wc: 2.0k

Despite spending a significant portion of his formative years behind bars, the weight of consequence failed to curb the rebellious spirit of Sukuna. Emerging from the confines of incarceration with a hardened demeanor and a penchant for defiance, he returned to the streets that had once ensnared him with a renewed sense of determination. To Sukuna, the rules of society were nothing more than shackles, constraining him from the freedom he craved and the life he believed he deserved.

Fuelled by a potent cocktail of resentment and bravado, Sukuna navigated the urban landscape with the swagger of someone who had stared into the abyss and refused to blink. From petty theft to brazen acts of vandalism, he left a trail of chaos in his wake, a testament to the indelible mark of his troubled past. For Sukuna, the cycle of delinquency was a familiar refrain, a symphony of defiance that echoed through the corridors of his consciousness, a reminder of the streets that had shaped him and the choices that had defined him.

Yet Sukuna found an unexpected beacon of light in the form of you, a college student whose innocence and sweetness stood in stark contrast to his own turbulent world. Your love was a fragile bloom in the midst of concrete, delicate yet resilient, defying the odds with each passing day. Drawn to your gentle spirit and unwavering kindness,Sukuna found himself navigating unfamiliar territory, his rough edges softened by the warmth of your affection.

For almost a year now, you have been the anchor in Sukuna's stormy sea, a steady presence amidst the chaos of his life. With your unwavering belief in his capacity for change and your steadfast support, you became his guiding star, illuminating the darkest corners of his soul with the light of your love. Despite the whispers of doubt that lingered in the recesses of his mind, Sukuna couldn't deny the profound impact you had on his life, your presence a balm to his weary heart.

Your love for Sukuna knew no bounds, transcending the boundaries of societal norms and expectations. Despite the whispers of caution that echoed through the halls of your mind, you refused to turn away from the tumultuous storm that raged within him. To you, Sukuna was more than just the sum of his mistakes; he was a complex tapestry of darkness and light, a flawed masterpiece in need of redemption.

While others cowered in fear at the mere mention of his name, you stood unwavering by his side, your love a shield against the slings and arrows of judgment. You understood the depths of his anger, the ferocity of his defiance, yet you chose to love him all the same. For you, love was not about changing someone into who they should be, but rather embracing them for who they were, scars and all.

The decision weighed heavily on your heart, a tender offering you longed to bestow upon Sukuna, a symbol of your unwavering commitment to your love. With trembling hands and a courage born of devotion, you found yourself standing before him, your heart laid bare in the flickering light of your shared intimacy. “I want you to take my virginity tonight, Sukuna. I’m yours, fully.”

As your words pierced the air, a surge of conflicting emotions washed over Sukuna. His heart quickened with excitement, the prospect of possessing you in such an intimate way igniting a primal fire within him. Yet, beneath the surface, a flicker of nervousness danced in the depths of his eyes, betraying the weight of responsibility he felt in this moment. There was something he never told you. Sukuna, the known and feared criminal, was a virgin himself. He didn’t have the chance to lose it since most of his teen years were spent in jail and he met you shortly after his release. Yet, Sukuna was sure that he would manage to not have to confess to his virginity.

Yet his dominant nature surged forth, a primal instinct asserting its dominance over his senses. With a predatory gleam in his eyes, Sukunas demeanor shifted, his posture becoming more assertive, more commanding. He saw this as an opportunity to claim you, to mark you as his own in the most intimate way possible. “Get on the bed, baby”, and you followed his command.

With a magnetic pull, Sukuna led you to his bed, your eyes locked in a heated exchange of desire and anticipation. The air was charged with electricity, every touch igniting a wildfire of longing between you. As you sank into the soft embrace of the mattress, a primal hunger consumed you, driving you to explore each other with an urgency born of passion.

With a possessive grip, Sukuna claimed your lips in a searing kiss, his dominance asserting itself with every fervent movement. His hands traced the curves of your body with a possessive intensity, his touch igniting a feverish need within you. You yielded to him willingly, your own desire mingling with his in a potent cocktail of longing and surrender.

“You’re so pretty, baby. I love you so much.”

Your clothes became mere obstacles, discarded in a frenzy of desire as you bared yourselves to each other without reservation. With each caress, each whispered promise, you delved deeper into the depths of your desire, your bodies becoming one in a dance of carnal pleasure and primal need.

“You belong to me, baby. All of you. Only to me. I’ll be your first and your last.”

As your passion reached its zenith, you lost yourselves in each other, your moans of ecstasy filling the air as you surrendered to the intoxicating rhythm of your desire. In that moment, on Sukuna's bed, you were consumed by the flames of your passion, your love, a blazing inferno that burned brighter with every touch, every kiss, every whispered promise of forever.

With a possessive hunger burning in his eyes, Sukuna trailed his fingers along your trembling form, tracing the contours of your body with a reverence that bordered on worship. As he settled between your parted thighs, he felt your pulse quicken beneath his touch, your breath hitching in anticipation of the ecstasy to come.

“You’re already soaked, princess. Been waiting for this, huh?”

With a predatory grace, he teased you with feather-light caresses, his fingers dancing over your skin in a tantalizing rhythm. Your soft gasps filled the room as he explored your most intimate depths, his touch sending shivers of pleasure cascading through your body.

With each stroke, he felt you surrendering to him, your barriers crumbling in the face of his relentless desire. He relished in the power he held over you, reveling in the way you arched into his touch, your cries of pleasure music to his ears, the way your wet pussy clenched and pulsated around his slender fingers. With a primal hunger driving him forward, Sukuna delved deeper into you, his fingers becoming an extension of his own desire as he brought you to the brink of ecstasy again and again.

“Don’t cum yet, babygirl. You wanted something else inside you, remember? Do you still want it?”

“Y–yes…ahh…f–fuck, yes, please, Sukuna.”

As Sukuna's touch grew bolder, you surrendered completely to the sensations coursing through your body. With each deliberate stroke of his fingers, you melted further into submission, your moans filling the air as you abandoned yourself to the overwhelming pleasure he bestowed upon you.

Your body quivered with every skilled movement, each sensation amplified by the electric tension that crackled between you. Your breath hitched with every caress, your heart racing as you surrendered to the blissful torment of his dominance.

With a possessive hunger burning in his eyes, Sukuna reveled in the sight of you laid bare before him, your submissive surrender stoking the flames of his desire to new heights. Your moans of pure lust were like a siren's song, drawing him deeper into the abyss of his own primal urges.

Driven by an insatiable hunger, Sukuna's touch grew more demanding, more possessive, his own arousal building with each intoxicating sound that escaped your lips. With each whimper of pleasure, he felt the intoxicating rush of power surging through his veins, his dominance asserting itself with an almost feral intensity.

“I think you’re ready, baby.”

Sukuna positioned himself above you, your submissive form trembling with anticipation beneath him. With a possessive grip, he guided himself to your entrance, the throbbing heat of his arousal pressing against your quivering flesh. As he poised himself at the threshold of your innocence, a fierce determination coursed through him, driving him forward with an urgency born of primal desire. With a forceful thrust, he pushed himself inside your pussy, the sensation of your tight warmth enveloping him like a velvet vice.

“Oh– Fuck…fuck, it’s tight. You feel so fucking good, baby.”

You gasped at the intrusion, your body tensing with a mixture of pleasure and pain. With each powerful thrust, Sukuna claimed you as his own, his dominant nature asserting itself with every primal movement. As you moved together in a primal dance of passion and possession, Sukuna felt a surge of ecstasy and lust coursing through him. You felt so good stretching around him, he could feel your heartbeat through your wet, tight cunt.

As your bodies intertwined in the fervor of your passion, Sukuna's arousal reached a crescendo, the intensity of the moment threatening to overwhelm him entirely. With each hard, deep thrust, he felt himself teetering on the edge of ecstasy, his primal instincts driving him ever closer to the brink. He pounded into you like a wild animal, feeling the undying urge to not only claim your soul as his but also your body.

“Oh fuck…oh fuck no.”

But then, in a sudden and unexpected rush, Sukuna's control slipped away, his body betraying him in the most primal of ways. With a gasp of disbelief, he felt his release wash over him, his climax crashing over him with a force that left him trembling in its wake.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as Sukuna grappled with the intensity of his own pleasure, his body pulsing with the aftershocks of his release. And as he collapsed against you, his breath coming in ragged gasps, he realized with a sinking feeling that he had cum far sooner than he had anticipated.

“…’kuna?”, your eyes shot wide, feeling him release his hot cum inside you. Usually it takes you far longer to get him to finish with your mouth.

In the hazy aftermath of their passion, Sukuna's heart raced with a mixture of embarrassment and shame, his mind reeling with the realization that he had revealed his virginity in the most humiliating of ways. And as he looked into your eyes, he saw the confusion and concern reflected in your gaze, knowing that he would have to find a way to explain himself, even as his own insecurities threatened to consume him. Slowly he pulled out and grabbed the box of tissues next to his bed to clean you up.

With a heavy heart, he knew that he couldn't keep his secret any longer, not from you, not from the woman he loved more than life itself.

Summoning every ounce of courage he possessed, Sukuna steeled himself for the confession that weighed heavily upon his soul. With slightly trembling hands and a voice thick with emotion, he reached out to you, his eyes searching yours for understanding and acceptance.

"Baby," he began, his words coming out in a rush as he struggled to find the right ones. "I need to tell you something...something I should have told you before."

As he spoke, Sukuna felt the weight of his secret lifting from his shoulders, replaced by a sense of vulnerability unlike anything he had ever known. With each word, he bared his soul to you, revealing the truth of his inexperience, his virginity laid bare for you to see.

To his surprise, your reaction was not one of judgment or scorn, but of compassion and understanding. With a gentle touch, you reached out to him, your eyes filled with love and acceptance.

"Sukuna," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "It doesn't matter to me. What matters is us, and the love we share. I’m yours and you’re mine."

#𓂃⊹ ִֶָ 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #sukuna #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu sukuna #sukuna jjk #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna smut #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #request

1K notes · View notes

twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 3 months

Text

i dream, now, of a normal life with you ; suguru geto

synopsis; suguru isn’t a lightweight. this is your first time actually seeing him drunk — though maybe it shouldn’t come as a surprise that he’d be the sappy kind.

word count; 9.4k (..... i got carried away ok)

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader (shoko calls u "girl" but in a "girl help" way not a gendered way), written w a no curses au in mind, sugu is a sappy emotional drunk i said what i said, sickening amounts of fluff, depictions of intoxication, reader is averse to alcohol, sugu wants to marry u so bad it makes him look silly, lots of emotions & lots of love <33

a/n; this fic has been ROTTING in my drafts for the longest time but its super precious to me and now i finally get to post it!! @softgirlgonehaywire & @hayakawalove ily ty for being interested in sappy!sugu this is a treat for u <33

the bar isn’t all that far off from your apartment.

it’s a short distance, really. walk straight ahead, until you reach the record store that suguru likes to frequent, and then take a right; a minute or two uphill, and then you’ll be able to see the blue of the sea. once you’re there, all that’s left is to look for mellow golden lighting and descend a set of stairs.

which is what you’re currently doing, popsicle in hand, loose clothes and comfortable shoes on as you wallow in the mellow summer evening. everything is blue — the dark shade of the sky, and your ice pop, pastel and sweet, tasting of pure youth. the hoodie you threw on is a rich cobalt, suguru’s in name but yours in spirit. he only wears it when you complain that it doesn’t smell like him anymore.

humming a jolly tune, you take a sharp turn, allowing the summer sensations to curl around your subconscious. blissed out and content.

you were so, so bored — stuck at home with no one to keep you company, no one to mumble snarky commentary about the show playing on tv, no one to run their fingers through your hair while your head rests in their lap. pure torture, really, being faced with the consequences of your own actions. after you stupidly told suguru you’d be okay on your own.

he even asked you twice, just to be sure, even told you that he’d prefer you to join him on his night out. and again, you declined; because it’s been so long since he had some time alone with shoko and satoru, and you were feeling a little tired anyways.

so he gave in. heading out, with a promise to bring back a tub of your favorite ice cream, leaving you with the apartment to yourself. did you come to regret your little white lie? maybe. possibly.

but everything worked out in the end.

a pleasant breeze caresses your skin, brushing against the apple of your cheek, and you watch as peach blossoms dance in a faraway park. cicadas cling to every tree in sight, buzzing a pleasant tune, mingling with the giddy giggles of high school students enjoying their summer vacation. it’s been raining for a couple of days; you can still smell it in the air, feel it in the low tinge of humidity clinging to your skin, still hear suguru’s insistence that you bring an umbrella with you to work — just in case.

but today, the skies were clear, and it’s late, not too humid but not too chilly. and the stars are out, glimmering in that fuzzy sea of mellow cerulean, leaking out like little marbles cast into space. falling down, down, down, close enough for you to see. from here, it looks as if they’re waving. you resist the urge to wave back.

peace. bliss. a nostalgia so vibrant you could drown in it, feel it lick at your ankles like soft sea foam.

eager to scratch a certain itch in your brain, attention span zipping from one street vendor to the pop music blasting from a couple streets away, you take your phone out from your pocket. absently scrolling through your messages, until you get to the ones shoko sent you just ten minutes ago. the ones that brought you out here, into a summer evening soon to slip into nightfall, ones that have you walking to the bar you chose not to join them at.

messages that still have you pushing back a bout of giggles, chewing lazily on your ramune ice pop with a giddy smile.

sho 🚬: come get ur man sho 🚬: he’s drunk. sho 🚬: like DRUNK drunk

you: …… um. you: what happened to hi? hello?? good evening???

sho 🚬: no time for that. look sho 🚬: [ image ] sho 🚬: he looks so goofy lol

unable to resist the temptation, you press the pad of your finger against the screen — opening the image attachment, just to drink in the sight once again. what you see is a certain man, slumped over in his seat, cheek smooshed against the wooden table in front of him. messy hair, no longer tied into a bun, cascading down his shoulders and back. from the little you can see of his face, his skin is flushed a light pink, and his eyes are closed, fingers still curled around an empty beer jug.

like a sleepy puppy.

a coo tiptoes on your tongue, but you bite down on your lip in an effort to stop it, just grinning at your screen with pure adoration in your lovesick eyes.

he’s drunk, alright. an unfamiliar sight, but not at all unwelcome. because he’s cute, terribly so, so cute that it hurts, even when he’s obviously wasted. it’s almost funny — you know their drinking habits. shoko holds her liquor so well that it’s a little horrifying, and satoru can get wasted if he has more than a sip of it. and suguru?

suguru never gets drunk. he barely even drinks. out of consideration for satoru, maybe, or you. probably both. that’s just how he is; you thought he hated fish for years, because he was always so eager to give you the best bites of the sushi rolls you ordered. turns out he was just indulging you.

so, to be frank — the idea of him suddenly being drunk is a little bit of a shocker. but it’s also kind of exciting, in a ridiculous way. new, fun, just what you need when you’re bored out of your mind.

(or maybe you’re just happy to have an excuse to go see him.)

you: NOOOO you: MY BABY 😭😭😭 you: what did u guys DO to him???

sho 🚬: satoru and him made a bet 😐 you know how they are sho 🚬: he drank like a divorced mother of four ive never seen something so beautiful

you: …. you: have i told you that you’re both terrible

sho 🚬: u love us <33 sho 🚬: anyway he’s been asking me where u are for the past ten minutes pls come i can’t stand him sho 🚬: he’s crying.

you: HUH???????? you: WHY????????????????

sho 🚬: dude i dont know sho 🚬: please come get him he’s being so sappy that satoru’s abt to throw up

you: ???? okok 😭 you: im omw ig??

sho 🚬: girl hurry he just told me he genuinely appreciates my presence in his life 😐

an exhale — laced with deep amusement — drops from your lips and spills into the summer air. it tastes like a memory from long ago.

slipping your phone back into your pocket, you raise your gaze, searching for a glimmer of goldish light. soaking up the scent of the ocean, sparkling on the border of your peripheral. salty and sweet.

no matter how hard you try, all you can think of is that certain someone, waiting for you to pick him up. your mind keeps drifting back to the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, the way his hair falls over his face when he leans down, the sound he makes when he stretches in the morning.

you want to see him. badly. you want him near, want to feel the familiar warmth of his presence, want to see him smile and laugh and sigh and raise his eyebrow at your antics.

so there isn’t any time to waste. you’re walking towards that familiar set of stairs before you know it, shoes hitting the asphalt with a mantra of satisfying thuds.

and when you step in through the opened door, you’re immediately engulfed by a sense of overflowing comfort. mellow, warm lights, the soft buzzing of static from an old radio, low citypop beats trailing through the air. the bartender by the counter gives you a curt nod in greeting, before motioning towards a certain table. it’s over in the corner, covered in beer jugs and fancy glasses, with three beauties seated around it.

satoru notices you first.

a bright grin finds its way onto his face, and he waves you over giddily, happily. barely contained excitement in the motion. shoko’s gaze follows his, flitting over to meet yours — and you think she mouths an oh, thank god, before taking another sip from her glass. she brings a hand up in greeting when you come closer, and you can’t see her smile, but there’s a crinkle to her eyes; a warmth in them that you’d never miss.

”hey, guys.”

”yo!” satoru chirps, beaming in a way that’s so distinctly him it makes you soften. he looks so comfortable in his seat, with a cocktail you know is non-alcoholic and probably too sweet for anyone but him to stomach. giggling to himself, leaning over to poke suguru’s cheek, with a teasing declaration of your chaperone is here!

and there he is.

the man you came here for, still slumped over in his seat, unresponsive. not for long. as the lilt of your voice reaches his ears, his eyes flutter open, in a bout of recognition — even in the drunken state he’s in. an immediate sensation of familiarity creeps into his veins, rousing him from his cozy, half-asleep stupor.

he doesn’t even grumble over the way satoru keeps poking at his cheek, interest and attention focused solely on a certain someone. you, your presence.

and when your eyes meet his, he lights up.

it’s precious, you think, how his eyes widen, blooming with genuine affection, so endearing you could kiss him right then and there. his face is flushed, and his hair is tousled, and the warm lighting of the bar paints him in a golden hue. so perfect for him, your star in the sky.

a smile spreads across his lips, big and happy and warm, and you can’t help but mirror it.

(gosh, he’s cute.)

with a dizzy kind of eagerness, suguru sits up, palms flush against the table to support his weight. he stumbles out of his seat, paying no heed to satoru’s amused huff of careful! or the rattling of fragile glass.

it only takes a few uncoordinated steps for him to reach you, where you haphazardly lean against the wall, watching him amusedly. that delighted smile never leaves his lips, as his arms go to curl around your waist, big and heavy, his jaw finding its rightful place on the curve of your shoulder.

”baby,” he drawls, fond and affectionate. breathing you in. ”sweetheart. my angel.”

a flustered puff of laughter slips from your lips, stumbling a little under his weight. his voice is syrupy sweet, overflowing with love and adoration, soft in a way that has your knees buckling. a little raspy. murmured right into your ear, sending pleasant shivers down your spine.

he’s too sweet for you to handle, really, even sweeter than satoru’s overpriced cocktail. and he smells the same as always; a blend between coffee grounds, cigarette smoke and rain, one that never fails to soothe you. even when it’s tangled up with a vague but vivid stench of alcohol, courtesy of the drinking he’s been doing until now.

you crinkle your nose, but don’t let go of him, nuzzling your cheek against the side of his head. words buzzing with warmth. ”hey, sugu.”

suguru only squeezes you tighter, content to have you in his arms. finally, his world makes sense again. all he can do is bask in your voice, warmth, scent — he’s just so enamored by it all. almost in a trance, heartstrings dancing along to the beat of your presence, your very existence, that appears to him as something almost angelic. soft and familiar, something that feels right at home when it’s tucked into his embrace. where he can keep it safe.

”missed you…” he murmurs, sleepy, smearing an open mouthed kiss against the crook of your neck. ”i love you s’much…”

a chuckle. ”i love you too,” you echo, running a steady hand over his back. your voice is laced with something teasing, but awfully fond. ”you really are drunk, aren’t you?”

”mm…” he only hums, cheek pressed flush against your soft skin. ”’m sorry…” he mumbles, stifling a yawn. he sounds a little guilty, and it makes you want to coo. pull his cheek a little.

instead, you laugh. amusement vowen into the bubbly noise. ”it’s fine, sugu. c’mon — let’s go home, alright?”

at that, satoru visibly reacts, placing his glass on the table with a soft clink before getting up to stretch. he grabs suguru’s discarded jacket, letting it hang off his arm as he walks over to the two of you.

”i’ll help you carry him,” he smiles, always so dependable. so ready to be of service. maybe a little too eager to carry suguru around like a sack of potatoes.

a smile blooms on your face, and satoru gives you a playful wink. shoko just leans back in her seat, stretching idly. it feels like home with them there.

”i’ll stay here,” she hums, a faint grin tugging at her lips. ”he’s your problem now.”

”got it.” you meet her lidded eyes, sharing an amused look as satoru tries to coax suguru away from you, pulling at his cheek while he whines and clings to the fabric of your clothing.

finally, he relents, and you look back at the table with a grin. ”see you later, sho’.”

a smile is the only response you get, but it’s enough. it’s her, the same as always, still sipping from a glass of expensive whiskey and raising her hand in a silent see you. relaxed and cool, and so very lovely.

with one arm over satoru’s shoulder and the other clinging to your hoodie, suguru stirs.

”shoko…” he groans, craning his head to look back at her, even as satoru makes a move to leave. ”don’t drink too much. and watch out for strangers…”

he trails off, blinking drowsily, a protective tone to his voice. worried. awfully like him. neither you nor satoru can resist the chuckle you indulge in, but shoko just rolls her hazel eyes.

”i don’t need to hear that from you,” she scoffs, tinged with amusement and what you’re almost certain is embarrassment. there’s a fondness to her snark, one you’d never miss.

(shoko will always be shoko. you know that she appreciates suguru’s concern, even if she doesn’t want to show it.)

”alright, c’mon,” satoru quips, slapping suguru’s back with a grin. ”there, there, big guy. let’s get you home, hm?”

just as you suspected, he doesn’t let you help, doing all the heavy lifting on his own. not breaking a single sweat, flaunting his strength as he hoists suguru up the steps — while you do nothing but follow, a light jacket hanging off your arm.

cold midnight air embraces you, slathering your cheeks with the essence of summer as your shoes meet the asphalt. satoru smiles, a low exhale escaping him, dusting off his hands. ”there we go.”

suguru stumbles towards you, no longer caged in, slumping against your shoulder with a satisfied sigh. blinking slowly, as you link arms, his muddled senses adjusting to the outside world. a pleasantly blue sky, a sun long set, and a string of lamp posts to light up the street ahead of you. artificial fireflies, watching over the town you love so dearly.

you part your lips, and a soft exhale slips out, dripping with fondness. ”thanks, satoru,” you smile, meeting his gaze.

”don’t mention it,” he waves you off, but you know he appreciates it; always eager to be praised. ”can you bring him back by yourself?”

”yeah, we’ll be fine. it’s close, anyway. don’t worry.”

a hum buzzes in his throat, and his cobalt gaze drifts upwards, to bask in the starry sky. a moment passes, and then he’s looking back at you and suguru; a soft and earnest smile playing at his lips. so sincere you want to reach out, cup his cheek, make sure he knows how loved he is.

”i’ll go back to shoko, then,” he chirps. bubbly and graceful, giddy and playful. always so lovely. ”gotta make sure she stays out of trouble.”

a chuckle. you mirror his smile. ”of course.”

and with that, your precious best friend makes a move to return to the bar, taking a decisive step away from you. before he can get too far, though, a certain hand reaches out to hold onto his sleeve — keeping him still.

satoru turns around. blinking once, then twice, in confusion; faced with none other than suguru, still slumped against you. a little out of it, sleepy and disoriented, yawning quietly, but his eyes are as clear as ever. caring and sentimental.

his gaze cuts to the bone of things. it’s something you’ve grown used to.

”thanks, satoru,” he murmurs, letting go of said man’s shirt. the words that spill from his lips are straightforward, a little tactless, but overflowing with earnest appreciation. ”you’re my best friend.”

a moment passes. the stars burn in silence.

satoru blinks.

then he sighs, with what you know is nothing more than feigned annoyance. masking his embarrassment, the same way shoko did, the same way suguru always does. your repressed, beloved little losers.

”yeah, yeah. i got it,” he pats suguru’s shoulder, once, twice. not looking at him. ”you’re such a sap, you know that? geez.”

a grin crawls up to rest on your lips, fresh mischief blooming in your eyes. ”not gonna call him your best friend back?” you tease, a soft tilt of your head.

satoru gives you a glare, playful, one you can’t physically see from behind his shades but still somehow sense. ”don’t add fuel to the fire,” he grins, with a halfhearted flick to your forehead.

before you can bicker further, suguru yawns, loudly, closing his eyes and nuzzling into you. you share an amused look with satoru, until he shakes his head fondly.

”take care of him, alright?”

”i will. you guys have fun!”

and at last, satoru turns on his heel, coupled with a smile and a lazy wave. but suguru calls out to him once more, unwilling to part ways without saying his piece. so sentimental, so loving it comes to him like breathing.

”bye-bye, satoru,” he slurs, voice loud enough for the entire street to hear, tired and honest. raising his arm in a lazy wave. ”i love you!”

”go home already!” satoru shouts, descending down the steps with a flush to his cheeks that you’ll tease him for later. his soft laughter is carried away by the breeze, sweet and saccharine.

(satoru will always be satoru. you know that he loves suguru back, even if he doesn’t want to say it out loud.)

with a faint chuckle, melting into the summer air, you tug on suguru’s arm. ”alright,” you chirp, looking up at him. ”let’s go!”

he seems a little more awake now, at least, trying to match your steps. meanwhile, you do what you can to support his weight; he’s stumbling a bit, but you don’t mind. if anything, his weight is a comfort, your arms linked together like a lucky charm. a safe harbour.

suguru is acting kind of like a big puppy, gazing at you with hearts in his eyes. a little meek, clinging to you, trailing after you pliantly. he’s a little dizzy, still, and he needs you to get back home in one piece. it makes you puff out your chest, stand up straighter. makes you feel protective of your 6’2 boyfriend, all toned muscle and broad shoulders, the personification of scary dog privilege. but he needs you right now.

a soft bout of laughter spills into the air, as you try to ignore his heavy stare. it’s impossible, though — so you turn your gaze to meet his own, and he practically glows under the sound of your giggles, that cheeky smile you’re wearing. ”you okay, suguru?”

his eyes soften. silently, he runs a thumb over the knots of your knuckle, smoothing down your skin, thick fingers intertwined with yours.

he looks deep into your eyes, and a soft hum of affirmation buzzes in his throat.

”i’m just so happy,” he grins, with a sincerity that has your heart doing flips inside your ribcage. it flutters, flutters, flutters, in the wake of his unbridled joy. it buzzes like it wants to break out.

suguru has this dreamy look on his face, one you can do nothing but admire, painted over with fluorescent moonlight and pure summer bliss. one that reminds you a little of high school rooftops, midnight road trips, what it means to be in love.

you nudge him, softly, with the arm that’s tangled up in his own. tilting your head, teasing words on the tip of your tongue. ”you know, i never took you for a sappy drunk.��

suguru's only response is a cute little mmrn, steps heavy as he leans on you for support. trying his best to carry himself, not wanting to inconvenience you, but it’s just a little tough. especially when he feels this soft, this grateful — this blessed.

a giddy, dreamy smile tugs at his lips. his amber gaze travels up, towards the little pale dots of star clusters all across the night sky, gleaming like milk poured over rich coffee. then he exhales; a soft, blissful little sound. ”i’m so lucky.”

a moment passes, silently. in the distance, cicadas buzz. with a patient smile, you admire him, the reflection of starlight in his eyes. suguru has this forlorn look, etched into his expression, like he’s seeing something that isn’t quite there.

”i have satoru and shoko…” he mumbles, just loud enough for you to hear. as if he’s tasting the words on his tongue, as if he can’t quite believe them himself. that’s how lucky he feels, sometimes.

a nod. ”they love you a bunch, you know?”

(they do. they’re both horrible at saying it out loud, but you know they do. you know that they love suguru, just as much as he loves them, even if none of them are good at putting it into words. perhaps they don’t really even need to, in the first place.)

suguru mirrors the soft nod of your head, bangs falling over his eyes as he does. ”and i love them, too.” his smile grows. ”they’re my best friends.”

absently, you reach a hand out, brushing away the strands of hair obscuring his vision. and suguru stirs, his gaze shifting until it falls on you. like a moth to a flame. there’s something indescribable in his eyes, soft and heavy and tender and true.

”— and i have you.”

a stutter of your heartbeat, a jolt throughout your chest. his stare almost burns, but you can’t avert your gaze — suguru looks positively lovesick. admiring you with a dreamy gaze, as if he can’t believe you’re real.

he reaches a hand out; cradling your face with one big palm, the rough pads of his fingers smoothing down your skin so very gently. smearing his fondness from your jaw to your cheekbone, so loving your breath hitches in the back of your throat.

a soft, content sigh spills into the air, like a prayer that doesn’t need any words. his smile is serene.

”my angel.”

as the words fall, that peaceful smile of his changes shape, shifting into a big, giddy grin. it lights up his whole face. a chuckle leaves his lips, content and delighted. ”i’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

and for a moment, you fear that your heart will stop beating entirely. frozen, listening to the lullaby of your heartbeat resounding in your ears.

suguru has always been frighteningly good at flustering you — but isn’t this a little unfair? you clear your throat, hoping to regain some composure. it’s tough, though. your words could never measure up to his, could never flow as freely, but they’re honest. wholly and thoroughly. and maybe that’s enough.

”we’re the luckiest in the world, too, then,” you echo, smiling, words barely above a whisper. willing yourself to meet his gaze. ”since we have you.”

suguru looks into your eyes. there’s starlight inside them, he thinks, shining brightly, gleaming in the dark. with the hazy filter of intoxication clouding his mind, it’s all he can think. you’re his northern star, his lighthouse. his one and only saving grace.

(you’re so, so pretty.)

a pause. after a silent moment, spent etching your features into his retinas, suguru tilts his head. his expression is unreadable.

— he boops your nose.

you blink. once, twice, caught entirely off guard; and suguru giggles. soft, giddy little breaths falling from his lips like marbles, strewn over the sand of a warm beach. his eyes are crinkled at the edges, and his smile is sweet, meeting your surprised gaze with a honeyed coo. ”you’re so cute, baby.”

silence. you look up at him.

then you sigh, exasperated, more flustered than you’d like to admit. god. okay, he’s really out of it. for some reason, you still thought you could get a good one-liner in, but of course he had to ruin that by being a little tease.

you grab onto his bicep. gaze fixed straight ahead, giving it a tug. your steps are more decisive now, and suguru follows you happily. ”alright, alright. c’mon,” you beckon, slightly gruff. ”we’re almost there.”

when you finally reach the familiar front door of your apartment, you exhale a deep sigh, laced with pure relief. limbs tired from dragging suguru up the stairs, mind muddled and sleepy and senses practically engulfed by a man still clinging to you like his life depends on it.

after fumbling with your keys and hearing the click of the lock, you take a victorious step over the threshold, and a familiar scent greets you. soothing, comforting, a blend between fresh laundry and leftover curry and blooming hydrangeas. filling your senses with a fervent kind of bliss. of course, suguru’s does the same; intimately intertwined with the scent of home. that everlasting, never-changing blend.

with him clinging to you like this, it’s almost suffocating — but you truly don’t mind. suguru’s warm, and sweet, and being close to him like this makes you feel at peace. his hands rest on your hips, his jaw on your shoulder, and he adamantly refuses to let go of you for even a second. it’d be annoying if he wasn’t so cute, if he wasn’t suguru geto, if you weren’t so horrendously weak for him.

what you don’t know is that suguru has an agenda. one that isn’t just i want to hug the love of my life, although partially that as well. suguru has a plan, one he’s been absentmindedly dreaming of for the past five minutes; he’s a man on a mission.

but he’s patient. always has been, always for you. so he waits, and waits, for you to hang his jacket up, for you to kick your shoes off your feet. and when you’re finally, finally finished, suguru leans in to kiss you.

— you block his mouth with the palm of your hand.

a moment passes. silent, almost tense. in his stupor, suguru’s mind can’t quite seem to comprehend the situation before him; he doesn’t understand why he isn’t pressing a kiss to your lips, right now, why he’s kissing the skin of your palm. he doesn’t understand why you look so troubled, a faint guilt simmering in your eyes. he just doesn’t understand.

all he can do is blink, dumbly, surprised. a question written on his features clear as day.

”well, it’s just…” you sputter, sheepishly. avoiding his gaze, a little guilty. ”you know. since you’ve been drinking, and all…”

and it hurts, you think. it hurts a lot more than it should. it hurts to reject him, hurts to see the way he deflates at your clarification. like a big kicked puppy. like you just threatened to throw him out into the street.

suguru removes your hand, gently, holding it in his own as he speaks. those amber eyes are downcast, and a soft pout rests on his lips. the sight alone feels like a dagger to your chest.

”but…” he frowns, voice awfully meek. he looks so sad. ”i wanna kiss you…”

a soft sigh leaves your lips, before you can think to hold it in. oh, he’s being so unfair. guilt clings to your mind, an itch you yearn to scratch, and all you want is to kiss his pout away. but you really, really don’t want to kiss his alcohol-soaked lips.

so you settle for the second best option.

”’m sorry, sugu,” you coo, reaching a hand out to cradle his cheek. he leans into your touch, still pouting, and you tug a little at his bottom lip. wasting no time in closing the narrow distance between you.

the kisses you press against his skin are soft. peppering kisses all across his face; ghosting your lips along his jaw, trailing towards his cheekbones, and settling on his forehead. tiny little pecks, wherever you can reach. your voice is soft, muffled into his skin between butterfly kisses. ”tomorrow, okay?”

and suguru seems to brighten up a little, melting under the contact, exhaling in pure bliss. he fervently returns the treatment, planting open mouthed kisses all over your face, respecting your wishes and avoiding your lips. they’re a little sloppy, but you don’t mind.

it does make you a little flustered, though. with his palms cradling your face, engulfing you, there’s nothing you can do except drown in his affection, the love he showers you with. it tickles — and suguru’s smile only grows, at the sound of your soft giggles. his cheeks are starting to hurt.

the state he’s in is just a little bit hazy. despite his initial dejection, he no longer minds that he can’t feel your lips against his, disappointment warded off by your smile and laughter alone. he thinks you’re so, so cute, and all he wants is to kiss you forever.

but you have other plans.

and before you know it, you’re both curled up in bed, limbs all tangled up beneath the blankets, bodies pressed together as suguru cages you in. he squeezes you tightly, hugging you close, practically melting into you. usually, it’d be so easy to fall asleep like this. with suguru cradling you, covering your body with his own, warm and safe. he’s like a furnace.

but right now, it’s a little tough. you’re kept awake by open mouthed, ticklish kisses pressed against your skin, supplied by the love of your life. it’s sweet, but he’s being far too distracting — as soon as your consciousness begins to fade into the fuzzy realm of sleep, he leaves a sloppy kiss against your collarbone, and you’re jolted awake once more.

”suguuu,” you whine, dragging his name out with childish inclination. ”we need to sleep…”

”sorry,” he only murmurs, muffled into your skin. he doesn’t stop, though, planting a wet smooch on your cheek, and then another. you squirm a little in his hold, and he emits a shaky breath. ”jus’ love you so much…”

suguru knows that he needs to stop. he knows that both of you need to sleep, that you need to rest up. that he needs to recover from the intoxicated state he’s fully aware that he’s in — but he just can’t seem to follow through with it. every cell in his body burns with a certain desire, a need to shower you in love, and it’s unendurable. with every kiss, every giggle he manages to pull from your lips, suguru’s heart fills up just a little more.

your presence surrounds him, like a weighted blanket, and he clings to it with a desperation he never knew before you.

in the midst of his feverish consciousness, you’re all his muddled mind can think about. the way you fit together with him like a puzzle piece, like he was formed in the shape of someone meant to hold you. like you were formed in the shape of his embrace. with you pressed up against him, limbs tangled with his, everything feels so right.

but it’s so overwhelming.

you’re so, so close, so close he’s practically engulfed by your scent, your touch, everything that makes his heart burn with devotion. it’s beating so viscerally in his ribcage, stirring the protective instinct inside him; he just wants you to stay close, by his side, wants to keep you safe and happy. wants to make you feel loved.

suguru’s heart feels wet and raw and bare, fully exposed for you to see. beating just for you.

with the alcohol inside his veins, and the nostalgia of the summer evening on his mind, everything weighs on him just a little too heavily. everything feels just a little too much. every sensation, every emotion, every sappy thought. all of it together is almost too much for him to handle.

all he can think of is you. how lucky he is, to have met you, to have gotten to know you. how much you’ve changed him, changed him for the better, how much of him is directly tied to your existence.

suguru never truly appreciated his name until you came into his life. it was always no more than a simple fact, a gift from his parents that he hadn’t asked for. something natural, that he didn’t question, didn’t think about.

but you say his name with such warmth.

he wants to hear you say it, over and over again, forever. suguru — in that sweet, lovely voice of yours. better yet, just sugu, a cutesy, silly nickname he could never bring himself to actually hate. he just wants to hear you call out to him, with that warmth of yours, the one that never fails to soothe him. no matter how tired he is, how stressed. how much everything else weighs down on him.

at the end of the day, he’s simply your sugu. and that’s all he ever really wants to be.

with a hazy filter clouding his senses, coaxing him into closing his eyes, suguru should give in. he should fall asleep, let you fall asleep. but he can’t bring himself to stop thinking about it; he just loves you so wholly. who you are, what you do. as an equal, an individual, a little galaxy tucked into a body made of flesh and blood. no matter what you’re doing, no matter where you are.

and right now, you’re here, with him. curled up in bed, in your shared apartment, inhaling the same air, exhaling at the same time. by his side, when you could be anywhere else in the world.

his heart is yours. that’s all suguru can bring himself to think, the only coherent thought he can cling to and echo in his head. his heart is yours. forever and ever.

he makes no attempt to stop the tears from pooling in his eyes, even as he feels them cling to his lashes, even as his breathing clogs up in the back of his throat. they’re proof of his devotion, his carefully nurtured love. growing over the years, into something almost sacred, a kind of faith. something so fervent he wouldn’t dare deny himself of feeling it.

he can’t hold in a faint sniffle, either, just barely audible. one that breaks your heart in two. it aches, aches, aches. suguru is gazing at you with glassy eyes, a sight you aren’t used to seeing — but he also looks so genuinely glad. his tears aren’t ones of sadness. you know, because you know him.

”aw, honey…” you coo, the pads of your fingers reaching out to cradle his cheek. despite your efforts, your voice wavers when you speak, little more than a whisper. ”don’t cry... you’ll make me cry, too.”

suguru places his larger palm over yours, choking on another sniffle. the sight renders you completely helpless — you want so desperately to stop his tears from falling, but a part of you is too touched to speak. too mesmerized by how beautiful he is, translucent tears illuminated by softly flickering moonrays, lashes glimmering like shooting stars.

all you can do is smooth a thumb right under his eye, wiping away a stray tear with enough tenderness to stitch his heart back together. suguru emits a shaky breath.

”’m sorry,” he sniffles, closing his eyes. nuzzling into the crook of your neck. ”i’m just so happy… love you so much… you mean so, so much to me, i…”

an exhale, a little breathless, tears soaking through the material of the shirt you’re wearing. his shirt. that realization makes him cry even more, a shuddering breath that shatters like glass when it drops from his tongue.

and then, in a voice so quiet you barely hear it, a soft whisper worth a million words:

”i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

and it hurts. your heart aches so sincerely, thorns curling around your ribcage, because suguru is crying, and he’s telling you all this. with such an honest intonation that you don’t dare doubt him, even for a second. heavy thumps of blood rush through your veins; he’s still clinging to you, sniffling into your neck, and you’re so in love with him that you almost can’t comprehend it.

all you can do is press a kiss to his shoulder, chaste and tender, and hug him just a little tighter. echoing his words, in earnest, desperately trying to keep your voice from breaking apart. ”i love you, too. more than anything.” a sigh, full of wonder. little butterfly kisses scattered across the expanse of his neck. ”you mean the world to me. honestly.”

with a smile against his skin, you hope so tenderly that the soft kisses will comfort him, will stop the tears from falling.

”my sweet boy,” you murmur, lovingly, because he is. the sweetest boy you’ll ever know. suguru shudders when you press your lips against his jaw. ”i’m so, so lucky.”

with the combined efforts of your kisses, the alcohol slumbering inside his veins, and the tears running down his cheeks, suguru begins to feel awfully tired. sinking into sleep’s embrace, like a sailor lost at sea. comforted by the glimmer of a lighthouse, just out of reach.

everything feels right. he’s safe, and happy, and in love. so hopelessly, blissfully in love.

the exhaustion creeps up on him, tidal waves embracing a shore, beckoning him into closing his weary eyes. a yawn leaves his lips, and he shifts a little in your hold. you’re smoothing down the back of his head, almost protectively, and sleep is only a flicker away for the both of you. with the last of his strength, suguru snuggles just a little further into you, nose pressed up against your neck, close enough that he feels the flutter of your heartbeat.

”wanna be with you forever,” he murmurs, sleepily, stifling another bout of yawns. his smile is sweet and dreamy. ”gonna marry you one day…”

a moment passes.

for a second, you think your heart does actually cease beating entirely.

swallowing a gulp, you allow yourself the luxury of an inhale — and fresh air fills your lungs. grounding. all you can hear is the rapid beating of your own heart, heavy thumps reverberating in your ears. warmth flows through your entire body.

marry.

the word is spoken so casually, so sincerely, as if he’s said it countless times before. as if he’s repeated it, over and over again in his mind, just to get used to the idea. as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. marriage. something so foreign, so scary, enough to send shivers down every narrow of your skeleton. such a large step to take.

(but suguru says it with such tenderness.)

”… okay,” you whisper, at last. breathless. ”i’ll be waiting, then.”

there’s nothing else to say. you don’t know if suguru is even conscious enough to hear you, let alone understand the full weight of your words, of his own words. but you don’t mind.

a soft smile lingers on your lips, as you stroke his hair, mind hazy and limbs heavy. nuzzling your cheek against the side of his head, full of affection. dripping from your hands down to the column on his throat, through his windpipe, down to his heart.

”goodnight, sugu.” you press a kiss to his messy hair, tender and chaste. ”i love you.”

an incoherent mutter leaves his lips, in response, one you can’t quite make out — but you don’t need to. because you already know what it means, in the same way you know that the sky is blue.

(an echo buried deep within his subconscious, voiced without effort, as easy as breathing.

i love you, too.)

the sizzling of a pan and the whirring of a coffee machine form a beautiful morning symphony, bouncing off the walls of your kitchen. to your ears, and your still sleepy brain, it’s a soothing sound — coaxing soft little melodic hums from the depths of your throat.

with such a tantalizing aroma in the air, a blend between espresso and pancake batter, you can’t help but buzz with a mellow, groggy kind of joy.

honestly, you're beginning to understand suguru’s fondness for the morning hours. waking up to his soft snores and content expression was more than enough to give you the energy you needed to get out of bed; all sleepy and relaxed and pretty, with hazy morning sunrays kissing up his bare skin, caressing his messy bedhead.

a rare sight, awfully precious. a part of you wanted to stay in bed and admire him all morning, but the thought of taking care of him coaxed you into leaving. it’s the least you could do, really — after seeing him so sincere, so open and vulnerable.

hopefully, his headache won’t be too brutal when he wakes up. you left some hangover pills on the nightstand, courtesy of shoko’s advice: just get him ibuprofen and coffee. works like a charm. are you a little worried about her nonchalance? maybe. but you trust her judgement. they’re a handful, but you love them — even when they’re drunk or hungover.

which is why you’re standing in the kitchen, engulfed by the morning sunlight, in front of a sizzling pan. trying your very best not to burn the pancakes you’re making, patiently waiting for the coffee to be done.

in your blissful stupor, caught up with thoughts of suguru and breakfast and forevers, you don’t notice another presence coming up behind you.

two arms wrap around your waist, and a jaw attaches itself to the curve of your shoulder. you startle, a little, jolting at the contact — but then you recognize that telltale scent, the familiar weight of his arms, and immediately melt into the embrace.

suguru breathes out a raspy chuckle, amused at your surprise.

a sigh slips from your lips, content. ”good morning,” you hum, placing the palm of your hand on his forearm. suguru shifts a little, getting more comfortable as he leans against you. tenderly, not too much weight. he’s delicate like that.

”g’morning,” he rasps, leftover sleep clinging to the syllables. the usual smoothness of his voice is coupled with a deep, rough kind of tilt, one that always accompanies it in the morning. your heartbeat picks up, silently.

suguru smiles. dreamy, giddy, because you just looked so pretty, in the morning light, hair still a tad messy. humming happily, swaying slightly side to side. so irresistible. he’s beginning to understand why you love sleeping in so much; getting to wrap his arms around you like this, instead of the other way around, doesn’t feel bad at all.

he squeezes you just a little tighter, hoping it’ll convey his gratitude. there are holes in his memory, last night no more than a blurry sequence of still images, but some bits and pieces remain intact. he remembers getting drunk in a way he hasn’t since he made that bet with satoru back in high school — and he remembers that you were there to take care of him.

a smile tugs at his lips. a little giddy, butterflies erupting in his chest. he’s so damn lucky.

”thanks for taking care of me yesterday, sweetheart.”

a hum. you smile, sheepishly, patting his arm. ”don’t need to thank me for that. how do you feel?”

suguru smiles. you feel it, against your skin, a chaste kiss on your neck. ”better.”

the low purring of the coffee machine has stopped, but the sizzling of the pan remains. from beyond the opened windows, you can hear the chirping of cicadas, melodic and serene. singing a summery tune. both of you soak in the preciousness of the moment, the fragile silence, before suguru breaks it.

”everything from last night is kinda fuzzy,” he admits, clearing his throat. just a tad sheepish. you simply hum, a low noise of acknowledgement, and he continues. ”i don’t really remember anything… ’m sorry, baby. i hope i didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

your lips curl up into a tiny smile. such a sweetheart — always worrying about you. always so caring and attentive. eager to reassure him, you smooth over the skin of his arm with your thumb. ”not at all.”

then you’re taking a couple steps back, moving from the stove, and suguru follows. you turn yourself around to meet his gaze, his arms still attached to your waist, a comforting weight.

a grin blooms on your lips, a little teasing, and a flicker of mischief shines in your eyes. ”you were cute, you know.”

suguru blinks, before emitting a low chuckle. a raspy little thing. ”was i?” he drawls, as you brush his bangs away from his face.

”mhm,” you chirp, eyes crinkled as they meet his own. you just can’t help but want to tease him, a little bit. just a smidge. ”kept going on and on about how much you love us.”

hands moving to cup his face, you squeeze his cheeks softly. and suguru lets you, too tired to resist, only giving you a lazy raise of his brow. there’s a sense of amusement in his eyes, and something in you knows he likes the attention. your teasing words buzz with endearment, akin to a purr. ”my sweet lil’ sugu.”

all he does is lean into your touch, allowing himself to melt into the tenderness of the physical contact. even as you pull at his cheek, earning you a very gentle pinch to your side. but he lets you have your fun. you’re warm, and sweet, and he’s so in love with you he’d probably let you tug his body around however you please.

still, your words leave him just slightly perplexed. he’s still smiling with half-lidded eyes when he asks you to elaborate, basking in the feeling of your thumb smoothing over his cheekbone. ”us?”

your grin widens, by a tad, something deeply amused glimmering in the depths of your iris. ”yep,” you answer, popping the p. for some reason, suguru dreads the teasing edge to your voice. ”me, and shoko, and satoru.”

a moment passes. he stiffens, for a second or two, mind processing the words. then he groans, softly, squeezing his eyes shut.

it makes you laugh, soft and amused, and he can’t help but smile along. despite the dreadful realization you present him with. no wonder he was met with so many notifications when he tapped at the screen of his phone — he didn’t read through any of them, but now he’s apprehensive to do so at all. shoko and satoru can be so goddamn obnoxious when they feel as if they have blackmail on him.

he can see it now, in his mind’s eye; shoko nagging him to run her errands, satoru reminding him of his words every time they have a slight disagreement.

(grab me a coffee. three shots of espresso, one cube of sugar. got it?)

slacker.

(we both know i’m right. don’t be so stubborn, suguru! it’s okay to be wrong sometimes.)

asshole.

(c’mon. you said you loved me, right?

so mean. and here i thought you loved me!)

idiots.

(he does love them. more than anything. even when they’re being absolutely insufferable.)

suguru just sighs, deep and fatigued, already anticipating his doom. ”they’re never gonna let me live it down, are they?”

a giggle slips from your lips, and his heart flutters helplessly. ”probably not. my condolences.”

another sigh. it only makes your smile widen. there’s something awfully delighted, in your eyes, as you cradle his face in your hands. ”well, i thought you were very sweet!”

”yeah, yeah…” he mutters, vaguely amused. placing one of his large palms over your hand, where it rests on his cheek. ”i won’t be doing that again anytime soon.”

a chuckles bubbles up from within your throat. ”aww,” you pout, giving way to a teasing grin. ”that’s a shame. i wanted to hear you talk about how much you love me again.”

suguru blinks.

then he smiles. a very particular smile, characteristic, one you’ve come to associate solely with him. resting somewhere in the intersection between a soft grin and a teasing smirk. a flicker of mischief shines in his eyes, and you realize your mistake.

you can tease suguru all you want; but he'll always turn the tables on you, at the end of the day.

”oh?” he chuckles, fondly, thumb smoothing over the lines of your hand. his eyes gleam, looking straight into yours, shining with something mildly devilish. ”i don’t need to get drunk to tell you that, baby.”

in a smooth motion, one you can’t help but silently envy, suguru intertwines his fingers with yours and brings your hand to his lips. he never once breaks eye contact, gaze heavy as he basks in your flustered expression, planting a soft kiss against your knuckle. reverent.

”i love you. more than anything,” he purrs, lips still lingering on your skin. warm enough to burn. ”you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

a pause. heat crawls up your spine, and a flush rises to your cheeks. you couldn’t stop it if you tried.

”my everything,” he continues, intent on flustering you as much as humanly possible. voice low and smooth, honeyed and deep, and worst of all; terribly earnest. lips trailing over your knuckles, against every knot, so soft that you barely feel it. ”my entire world.”

”okay, okay!” you sputter, an embarrassed hue to your cheeks, your gaze landing on the windowpane to your right. his stare is just too heavy, too deeply in love. overwhelming. ”point taken. nevermind.”

suguru laughs, genuine and full. warm and amused, deep and real, and you catch yourself thinking that you don’t want to go a single day without hearing it. even if it’s at your own expense.

a coo rests on his the tip of his tongue, but he bites it back, opting to lean forward instead. he trails the pads of his fingers along your jaw, touch like a butterfly, lifting your chin up ever so slightly. then he closes the distance between you.

in your throat, your breath hitches.

— but he doesn’t kiss you. suguru stops right in front of your lips, so close you can feel his breath on your skin, taking a moment to simply look into your eyes. and despite how flustered the close proximity makes you, you can’t bring yourself to look away. heart fluttering madly, a string of staccatos against your parted ribs.

a tilt of his head. amber eyes gleaming, crinkled and fond. ”can i kiss you, now?” he asks, grinning softly. hand smoothing down your hip, big and warm, teasing. ”i made sure to brush away all the alcohol. or do you still not want to?”

you pause.

”hey, what happened to not remembering anything?” you pout, narrowing your eyes. the corner of suguru’s bottom lip twitches upwards.

but he only shrugs, feigning nonchalance, a playful glint in his eyes. ”guess i was just that disappointed.”

a giggle flows from your lips. he drinks it in, gazing at you with pure contentment.

”alright, alright... c’mere,” you coo, smile honeyed and sweet. tracing your fingertips along his jaw, brushing a silky strand of hair behind his ear. you take in the sight of him, meeting his lovesick gaze. he squeezes at your hips softly, a little impatient — so you finally lean in.

suguru’s lips are warm, when they meet yours. they taste like sunlight, devoid of any alcoholic flavour, just like he so kindly assured you of. and it’s a little amusing, the thought of him in front of the bathroom sink — desperately scrubbing his teeth, just to get his kissing privileges back. such a dork.

he’s your dork, though.

suguru sighs into the kiss, smiling giddily, satisfied at last. a sound you can’t help but mirror. he deepens it, ever so slightly, fingers squeezing gently at the plush of your waist. a hum of approval buzzes in your throat, and his smile only grows.

when he pulls away, that smile is all you can see, along with the ever so slight flush to his cheeks. a hint of peach dusting his skin, framed by the sunrays caressing his jaw, highlighting his handsome features. breathtaking.

before you have a chance to protest, he’s leaning in again, to press one more chaste kiss to your lips. your heartbeat picks up.

everything finally feels just right.

the warmth of the sizzling pan, the fragrance of freshly made coffee and now-burnt pancakes. the light of the morning sun, scattered across the open space of your apartment, splotches of life painting everything in a heavenly glow. the love in the air, all soft and light and comfortable.

domestic bliss. with suguru, who never seems to change, no matter how many years go by. if you could live in this moment for the rest of your life, forever and ever, you’re sure you’d die happy.

and wow, is that a heavy word. forever.

(but suguru makes it feel so very, very light.)

forever feels a lot more real, like this. cradled in the midst of a drowsy morning, bumping elbows with the man you love most, after getting to take care of him in his most vulnerable state. accepting every part of him, and having him accept you just as fervently.

just this moment alone is worth far more than you could ever comprehend.

suguru, with his warm hands, his familiar embrace. your shared laughter, bouncing off the walls of the kitchen as you try in vain to save your scorched pancakes. and his smile, his fervent devotion, coaxing him into eating them even though they’re burnt at the edges and don’t taste even a quarter as good as his. because you made them, for him, and that makes them taste sweeter than anything.

you stare at him, from across the table, admiring the sight you’ve grown so used to; suguru, with his slightly tousled hair, mug in hand and smile painted on his handsome face. drowned in sunlight, pink petals flitting in through the opened window. you don’t want a single day to ever pass without you seeing this. what does that mean, exactly? you think you know.

it means forever.

(forever, forever, forever. what a pretty word.)

marriage. you think of it, again, let it linger in the depths of your skull, bounce around until you grow just a little more used to it. and it’s a scary thought, for sure. a terrifying thought, even, something so foreign that it makes you nervous. but you truly wouldn’t mind doing this forever — not one bit. not if it’s with him.

and, unbeknownst to you, maybe that promise of forever isn’t all that far off.

maybe it’s only a couple rooms away, hidden within the depths of a certain drawer, until suguru finally gets the courage to bring it out. and maybe, just maybe — that day isn’t all that far off, either.

(suguru smiles at you, from across the table. he thinks you look ethereal, sipping from your morning coffee, blinking tiredly. so sweet and angelic.

all he can think of is forever.)

#finalllyyyyyyy took the time to finish this r u proud of me 👉👈#im very very soft for this sugu in particular :< kinda takes place in the same universe as the breakfast sugu fic !!!!#he’s ur smitten husband-to-be <333 i love to see suguru geto thrive and be happy i think being a househusband could save him #geto x reader #geto x y/n #geto x you #jjk fluff #geto fluff #geto suguru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n

2K notes · View notes

star-sim · 3 months

Text

hopeless ☆ heeseung lee

☆ horrendously down bad! heeseung x fem! reader ☆ summary: absolutely no one would have expected the dark, brooding, and rough heeseung lee to be hopelessly head over heels in love with the sweet, oblivious you. especially you. even with the help of practically the entire year, it's almost pathetic the way heeseung struggles to utter three, simple words to you, let alone look you in the eye. ☆ genre: fluff!!! pining, SUPER WHIPPED HEESEUNG, high school! au, non-idol! au, a lot of 01 liner idols + the rest of enha make appearances, btw this follows the asian school system, SO MUCH FLIRTING OMG, heeseung is kinda pathetic and awk ☆ warning(s)? swearing and dumb characters lol, there is one SA scene, but it is not graphic + very minor violence ☆ word count: 10.8k ☆ this is extremely based off of "danger" by bts, especially the lyric "you're cute, and i'm pathetic" lol enjoy!

Heeseung Lee was stressed.

No. He was distraught.

Distraught about how fucking cute you looked today.

Ever since he was a kid, Heeseung loved Halloween, because he loved Trick-or-Treating with his older brother and cousins. However now, at the age of seventeen, he found himself resenting it. Not because there was any issue with the holiday, but because today was Halloween.

From across the classroom, Heeseung found himself staring, all dazed and empty-headed, at you, who was clad in your cute bunny costume. The way the fluffy, white ears stuck out from the top of your head, as well as the fluffy white coat draped around your shoulders, made you look so soft and cozy and adorable. The way your nose crinkled as you laughed with your friends, sweet sounds coming from your lips as you threw your head back.

Were you real? How could anyone be so goddamn beautiful and not be an actual angel sent from above? What country did Heeseung save in his past life in order to get to be in your presence in this life?

"Dude, you're staring," a new voice interjected.

"What?" Heeseung tore his eyes away from you. "I wasn't."

Beomgyu Choi was one of Heeseung's classmates. And, like everyone else in their year, Beomgyu knew how enamored Heeseung was with you. Other than yourself, of course.

"I'm tellin' you," Beomgyu plopped down onto his seat, which was beside Heeseung's. He slid his chair so that he would be closer to his classmate, before throwing an arm around Heeseung. "You need to make a move. Like, now."

Heeseung glanced over at his classmate. If he ignored the fake blood on Beomgyu's chin, as well as the fake, plastic vampire teeth and the god-awful Spirit Halloween Dracula cape, he'd know that Beomgyu was 100% correct.

Everyone (and seriously, everyone) knew that Heeseung Lee had the biggest, juiciest, most obnoxious crush on you. In fact, your own friends had even tasked themselves with the job of putting in a good word for Heeseung, saying things like "Isn't he so cool?" into your ear to hopefully guide you straight into his arms. It's such a well-known fact that some of your teachers have purposefully placed you and Heeseung next to or near each other in order to help him with his more-than-obvious crush.

With such a big, school-wide effort, it should be expected that at least some progress was made.

Wrong!

Not even a single stroke of progress has been made.

Probably because there was one teensy, weensy, eensy, problem: Heeseung was an absolute mess around you. Heeseung was known as this tall, blunt, and rough guy at school. When he wasn't silently judging everyone, he hung out with his group of friends, who had a reputation for being delinquents. Heeseung Lee, clad in his iconic black leather jacket, was intimidating, and usually had no problem speaking up for himself. But around you? Absolutely not.

If anyone thought that Heeseung Lee could easily speak to you, they were out of their goddamn mind. There were too many instances where your classmates would push Heeseung and you together, only for him to blow it because he was completely incapable of looking you in the eye without turning red.

In Heeseung's defense, you were the most beautiful person in the world— How is he not supposed to get nervous?

"You know I can't," Heeseung murmured, clenching his fists.

Beomgyu rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Hee. What happened to banger Heeseung Lee? Heeseung Lee that beats up kids? I didn't think you'd be scared of talking to girls."

"First of all," Heeseung frowned, "I'm not a banger and I don't beat up kids. And also, I'm not scared of talking to girls."

His classmate quirked a brow. "Really?" Heeseung nodded. "Because the last time I remember, you could barely get a word out in front of [Name]."

At the sound of your name, Heeseung jerked in his seat, reaching out to grasp Beomgyu's arm. "Shhhh, don't say her name so loud!" he hissed, eyes quivering over to where you were with your friends.

"What?" Beomgyu looked around indiscreetly. "It's not a secret to anyone how you feel about [Name]."

"Shhhh! Shut up!"

When the bell rang, everyone scurried to their seat, and class began. As Beomgyu tuned out the sound of the teacher's voice, he couldn't help but notice the way Heeseung's eyes were completely glued to you. It was almost laughable, the way the boy's eyes were wide, staring at you like you were some god.

Oh god, Heeseung Lee was hopeless.

"Heeseung-hyung, are you free tomorrow?"

It was lunch time. Heeseung and his friends liked to hang around the rooftop of the school, because it was always empty. And plus, no one wanted to be where Heeseung and his friends were— they were too scary!

Heeseung looked at his younger Australian friend, Jake Sim (or Jaeyun Sim, as his official documents stated), who had just asked that question. Heeseung took a bite of the instant ramen that they bought from the vending machine.

"Yeah, why?"

"Good. Because you have a date with [Name] tomorrow."

Heeseung choked. As he coughed, his other younger friend, Sunoo Kim, let out a whine.

"Hyuuunggg!" Sunoo pouted. "Why'd you tell him?"

"It was supposed to be a surprise!" Riki Nishimura, the group's Japanese foreign exchange student friend, added, elbowing Jake in the ribs.

"Whatever," Jake crossed his arms. When Riki nudged him again, Jake opened his mouth to holler, "Jay, back me up!"

Jongseong "Jay" Park was another one of Heeseung's friends, probably the closest person to him.

"You guys know Heeseung-hyung is going to fuck it up either way, right?" Jay said. "Remember last time?"

"Yeah," Sunghoon Park joined in. "No matter how much we prepared him, Heeseung-hyung still acted like a fucking idiot."

"I'm right here!" Heeseung shouted, still hitting his chest to dislodge the ramen that he choked on.

Jungwon Yang, the seventh person in their friend group, put a hand on the older boy's shoulder, his lips lifting up into a half-teasing grin, revealing sharp canine teeth, "Hyung, don't listen to them. I think you'll really impress [Name] tomorrow."

It was Heeseung's turn to elbow Jungwon in the ribs.

When Heeseung finally finished coughing up a storm, his friends were already onto another topic, making plans for the next weekend.

"Hey, hey!" Heeseung grumbled. "Aren't you guys going to explain this so-called 'date with [Name]'?"

"What's there to explain?" Riki said. "You're going on a date with [Name]. End of story."

The eldest of the group's face contorted. "What are you guys even saying—"

"Well, it's not technically a date," Sunghoon said, taking a sip of his juice box. "You're, like, hanging out with [Name] though."

That still didn't answer Heeseung's question.

"When? Where? What time?" he spluttered, eager for answers.

Jake huffed exasperatedly. "Do we have to explain to you everything? It's not that deep, man."

Jungwon rolled his eyes. "Hyung, [Name]'s friends are the presidents of the Environment and Ecology Club, and there's a social tomorrow. It's like birdhouse painting, or something. [Name] is attending to support her friend, so we signed you up, too."

"Birdhouse painting?!" Sunoo's features morphed into confusion. "I thought they were making bracelets?"

"No, I thought there were weaving baskets?" Riki frowned.

"Whatever it is, it sounds lame as hell," Jay remarked.

Jungwon rolled his eyes again, earning a punch on his arm. "Whatever it is, it'll be a great opportunity for you to talk to [Name]."

The younger boy offered Heeseung a reassuring smile, only to receive a pensive one in return.

When classes resumed, Heeseung felt light-headed and distracted the entire time as he processed the fact that he was going to be around you tomorrow.

Oh god, he sounded like a total loser. Did the mere thought of being in your presence make him nervous? Yes, yes it did. You were just so pretty and sweet, he had no idea what to do. Poor boy, his teeth dug into his bottom lip, clammy palms pressing into the underside of his desk. His knee bounced, and there was absolutely no way that he could even make out a single word the teacher was saying.

Heeseung was going to pass out.

"Hey, Heeseung?"

That's your voice. It was so pretty and nice on his ears. Was he in heaven? He wouldn't be surprised if your voice was the voice of an angel.

"Heeseung?"

Heeseung was convinced that he was in heaven now. What he wouldn't do to hear your voice every second of his life.

"Heeseung!" another voice interjected. That's what snapped Heeseung out of his daze. Too deep in his head, Heeseung hadn't noticed that the class period ended, and the short passing period had already begun.

At his desk stood Yunjin Huh, Minjeong "Winter" Kim, and... oh my god... you. The three of you had somewhat matching Halloween costumes: Yunjin was a gray mouse, Winter was a cat, and you were a bunny. And now that he looked at it, you all were holding a bag of candy.

While your two friends were giving him the"Are you serious?" looks, you looked at him with wide, kind eyes.

"Heeseung?" your beautiful voice said, fingers reaching into the candy bag that you were holding. "Would you like candy?"

He stared at you. You were giving out candy to everyone in class because it was Halloween... You're such an angel... What did the world do to deserve you...

Winter stepped on Heeseung's foot, snapping him out of his daze once again. The boy let out a small yelp in pain, and as the embarrassment settled in, he heard you let out a small giggle, lips raising up to show off your teeth.

Oh my god, he was going to die.

"Y-Yeah," he stammered out, cursing himself internally. Heeseung couldn't help but feel everyone in class's gaze glued to him. When you handed him a piece of candy, your hand brushed up against his. Heeseung could feel his ears becoming hot, the warmth rising to his neck.

You smiled at him, before saying in a sing-songy voice, "Happy Halloween!"

Heeseung had to force himself not to stare like an absolute fool.

He was really hopeless.

hee: jay i don't think i can do it tomorrow

It was 2AM when Heeseung texted Jay. He spent the entire night thinking about the "date" (probably the least necessary word at the moment), and he simply couldn't sleep.

Heeseung had embarrassed himself too many times in front of you. Like that one time you and him were on cleaning duty together, and he was so distracted by you that he tripped over a bucket of water. Or that one time he sat next to you for a few weeks and his shoes kept squeaking against the floor, making it look like he was farting. Or when he tried to look cool and suave in front of you at some social your friends invited him to only to rip a hole in his pants. And then what happened today... He could not embarrass himself again.

hee: like i think i'm going to die if she sits next to me tomorrow

It was only a matter of seconds when his friend texted back.

jay: you'll be fine trust

Heeseung frowned.

hee: stop lying to me

hee: you know how i am around her

jay: i believe in you

jay: like srsly

hee: that's blind faith

Jay typed for a little bit, before stopping altogether. Heeseung huffed. Did his friend just leave him on read? A few minutes later Jay sent a Wikihow article.

'How to talk to your crush,' it was aptly named. Heeseung deadpanned.

hee: are you being fr right now

jay: give [name] your sexy heeseung charm and you'll be walking off into the sunset hand-in-hand with her in no time

jay: read the article btw

How was this guy an actual person?

hee: kill yourself

jay: give her that passionate, sexy, boiling hot, hotter-than-the-sun, steaming hot heeseung that makes her just want to come up to you and give you the fattest, juiciest kiss on the mouth, i know you can do it soldier

hee: DIE

Heeseung couldn't sleep all night.

At school, the entire day was just plagued with anxiety for what was to come. It didn't help that your friends kept turning around and giving him knowing looks throughout the day. When school finally let out, Heeseung went to the classroom where the birdhouse-painting-bracelet-making-basket-weaving social would be held. His friends told him to go there the moment that school ended, but when he came, there was literally no one there.

Until someone yanked him into the classroom.

"Hey!-" he yelped, before the door slammed. In front of him stood two people that he recognized: Sumin Bae and Sieun Park, two of your friends who also coincidentally were the co-presidents of the Environment and Ecology club.

Sumin cocked a brow at him, crossing her arms. "I hope you're not as hopeless as everyone says you are."

Heeseung opened his mouth to respond, but Sieun cut him off.

"Ugh, that doesn't matter," she pinched her nose-bridge. "We told [Name] to sit near the front, so you better sit there, too."

"Right-"

Sumin cut him off, too.

"[Name]'s favorite color is pink, and her favorite Sanrio character is Keroppi," Sumin asserted. "And she really likes things that are cute, so like fruit patterns, hearts, stars, yada yada."

Heeseung blinked at them. "And this is relevant how...?"

Sumin and Sieun shared a look.

"You are completely hopeless."

As it turned out, they were giving him details about design-elements that you liked, so that Heeseung could somehow impress you with his birdhouse painting abilities (Jungwon was right, it was birdhouse painting). After info-dumping on him, they kicked him out of the classroom to actually prepare for the social.

As Heeseung was pushed out of the classroom, he bumped into someone. Just as he was about to say, "Watch where you're going," he realized that it was you.

"Oh, hi, Heeseung!" you greet him cheerfully, your eyes pressing into thin slits as you smile.

Quick! What does he do? "Hi... [Name]."

"Are you here for the social, too?" The way your eyes gazed at him made him feel shy already.

"Y-Yeah...."

"I didn't know you were interested in the Environment and Ecology club..." You remarked, and Heeseung panicked— Was it obvious that he was here exclusively for you?— but what you said next made him sigh in relief. "That's great! I'm so happy that I finally have someone familiar with me here!"

He's going to faint.

When the social began, you invited him to sit next to you. Heeseung felt stiff as he sat beside you, watching the way that you happily painted your small, wooden birdhouse. Heeseung wanted to start a conversation with you, but each time he thought of something to say, his voice caught in his throat. Sumin and Sieun had given him two dirty looks already, so he needed to make a move now or their efforts would be in vain.

"W-What's that?" he finally stuttered out, pointing to the glob of green on your birdhouse.

You laugh airily, leaning closer to him so that he can see it better. "Can you guess?"

Heeseung tries to concentrate on guessing, but it's hard when you're close to him. Quick! What's green and something that you like?

"Is that... K-Keroppi?"

"Yeah!" Your face lit up, flashing him a cheeky grin. You nudged him with your elbow, raising your brows at him playfully. "Awww, Hee, you smarty pants! How'd you know?"

Hee?

OhmygodohmygodohmygodyoucalledhimHee.

You stopped laughing, pulling away from him. "Sorry, do you not like being called Hee? Beomgyu sometimes calls you that, so I thought-"

"No, I like it!" Heeseung blurted, a little louder than he wanted to, earning a few questioning looks from people around him. The boy felt abnormally warm, embarrassed at his outburst. "I-I'm okay with you calling me that..."

"Noted!" you said, before your lips curled upward. "Now... are you going to tell me how you could tell that this green blob was Keroppi?"

"Oh uhm..." Heeseung's lips were moving faster than his head, "Y-You dressed up as Keroppi last year for Halloween with Yunjin."

Almost like you were a cartoon character, you perked up at his statement. "You remember?"

Of course he did. How could he forget? You wore a cartoonishly-big red bow around your neck like Keroppi, and had a green Keroppi-style headband. You looked adorable, especially when you went around showing off a Keroppi keychain that you got at the Cinnamoroll Cafe in Hongdae to anyone that was willing to listen.

Heeseung found himself chuckling. "Of course I'd remember your massive red bow."

You stared at him for a few moments, before a bashful grin broke out on your face. You then buried your face in your hands, letting out a groan. "Ughhhh, that's so embarrassing!"

"How?"

It's going good so far, Heeseung thought. Just don't mess it up!

You pouted cutely, your bottom lip jutting out. In the light, he could see the gloss shining off of it so prettily. "My makeup was so fucked up last year, ughhh, it looked so bad."

You? Look bad? Impossible.

"What are you talking about?" Heeseung asked, his doe-like eyes scanning your embarrassed face. "I thought you looked cute."

You stared at him. It took a few pulses for Heeseung to realize what he just said. His face instantly turned three shades warmer and panic was evident in his expression.

"I-I mean— You jus—You were really—"

He shut his mouth when you began laughing. Laughing so hard that you clutched onto his knee, keeling over yourself. His cheeks burned.

You're laughing at him, aren't you? Did he fuck up?

When you noticed the sulky expression on his face, you stopped laughing.

"Sorry, Hee," you said, giving his knee a reassuring squeeze. "It's just... You look so intimidating, when you're really just a sweetheart."

If Heeseung was red before, he was quietly literally the color of a tomato. It was a wonder that the entire room’s temperature didn’t rise given the sheer amount of heat radiating off his person.

"A s-sweetheart?"

"Yeah!" you happily respond. "You're just the cutest, y'know? Like a little puppy."

As much as Heeseung wanted to die happily now that you called him cute, he needed to keep this conversation going. Sucking in a sharp breath, the boy looked at you in the eyes. "W-Well I think the same about you... [Name]."

You looked at him curiously, so he continued, his voice soft and sheepish, "I... also think that you're the cutest."

You blinked at him a few times, before the widest smile that he'd ever seen spread across your cheeks, stretching ear to ear. If only Heeseung wasn't too busy grappling with his shyness, he'd notice the way you let out a soft, bashful giggle, shaking your head and squeezing your eyes shut to keep yourself from being too visibly flustered. Slowly, with all the courage that you had left in you, you raised your hand and placed it on Heeseung's head. You ruffled his soft locks, gushing, "God, you're so cute, Heeseung!"

The rest of the social is filled with soft chatter between the two of you, but Heeseung was honestly too captivated by you to notice the time passing. With his heart on his sleeve, and a sloppily-painted birdhouse in his hands, Heeseung mentally high-fived himself.

Heeseung's friends never heard the end of it. The moment that he got home, Heeseung spammed their groupchat, giving them paragraphs and paragraphs of the events that ensued.

hee: and then she called me cute. like CUTE CUTE, not even like she was alluding it, she used the word CUTE

hee: oh my god i think i'm gonna faint

His friends don't have it in them to flame him. After all, this was progress.

Unbeknownst to him, you were feeling the same things. Everyone knew that Heeseung liked you, except yourself. You had the opposite case: you've had the biggest crush on Heeseung since middle school, but never told a single soul about it. You're a naturally expressive and sweet person, so it was so incredibly hard hiding your feelings for him.

After all, under that handsome and brooding outer shell, you saw his softness. This past year, you've had so many miscellaneous interactions (at least, it seemed miscellaneous-- everyone but you knew that those interactions were set up) with Heeseung. At the beginning of each interaction, he'd act all mysterious, but as time passed, he'd speak so softly and slowly unravel.

It was so, so cute. Heeseung was so cute. To say you wanted him would be an understatement. No words were sufficient to fully express the nights that you stayed awake thinking about him, or the makeup looks that you intricately practiced to impress him, or the sheer number of times that you had to hide the fact that you were staring at him.

Maybe you couldn't hide it any longer.

"Wait, what?!"

Heeseung's heart dropped to his stomach the moment he heard the words leave his friend's lips. Chenle Zhong was one of you and Heeseung's mutual friends, and according to him, someone had confessed to you via a letter today.

"Are you serious?" Heeseung asked, pulling his bottom lip into his teeth, chewing pensively. "Do you know who wrote it?"

"Nope, but I'll try to get more info on it," Chenle frowned. "Yunjin says that [Name] laughed at the letter."

When Heeseung didn't say anything, Chenle continued. "Hey, man, that could be a sign, y'know?"

When Heeseung's face morphed into a confused expression, his friend added, "Like, maybe [Name] thinks it's a joke? Maybe she doesn't care for it."

That's what Heeseung hoped for.

Later, Chenle texted him a screenshot of the love letter. To say that Heeseung was appalled would be an understatement. The letter read,

'To my dearest [Name], you're as beautiful as the plum blossoms in the spring. Your lips are soft like pillows, pillows that I would love to fall into an eternal in. I love you, I love you, I'll love you until this paper decomposes and becomes a part of the earth, and maybe then they will be able to force me to forget you. Love, your admirer.'

Heeseung immediately sent it to his groupchat.

jakey: yo who invited shakespeare???

hoon: i had a stroke reading that

sunoo: "your lips are soft like pillows" is crazyyy

hee: chenle gave me updates, apparently [name] knows who the sender is

jay: AND WHO IS THE SENDER??

hee: i don't know

hee: but minjeong says that it's someone from class 2

niki: class 2 is full of snobs

jungwon: i'm still in shock because of "i'll love you until this paper decomposes"

hoon: WHAT IF IT'S JUNGSU HYUNG

niki: oh it's SO over for you heeseung-hyung

As it turned out, it was not, in fact, Jungsu Kim from Class 2, thanks to your friends, who were quite wonderful info-brokers. But he still didn't know who it was.

Laying in bed, Heeseung felt weight on his chest. You laughed at the letter. While that could mean that it was a joke, it could also mean that you thought the person writing the letter was funny... which could mean that you liked them back. Just the mere thought of you with someone else made Heeseung frown deeply. This entire time he was worried about how to act around you, completely ignoring the fact that you yourself could be interested in someone else! God, he was so stupid.

Heeseung needed to know who it was that sent it, and more importantly, if you were romantically interested in them.

Fear makes man do crazy things.

Like walking one's crush to school.

Look, Heeseung was mulling over the situation as he walked to school, when he saw you across the street, walking in the same direction as him. In what could only be called an adrenaline-high, Heeseung ran across the street up to you.

"[Name]!" he called out.

"Heeseung?—Oh my god!"

Poor boy was breathless, flushed in the face. It took him a few moments to catch his breath. Flashing you a grin, Heeseung said, "Let's walk to school together, [Name]."

You're silent for a few moments, before you return the smile. "Of course."

The walk was silent, only the sound of early morning traffic, footsteps against the concrete sidewalk, and the occasional sniffle courtesy of you filling the cold air between the two of you. Speaking of which, your sniffles began to get louder and more frequent. Now out of adrenaline, Heeseung was back to being shy.

Clearing his throat, Heeseung forced his voice out. "Are you— Are you sick?"

You sniffled again, bringing your hand up to swipe your nose. The two of you were at an intersection now, so you pressed the pedestrian button. "No, I just get sniffly when it's cold."

That's. So. Cute. Was what Heeseung was thinking. The way you were rubbing your hands together made you look so adorable, he just wanted to put you in his pocket.

He must have been staring at you for a while, back in his you-loving daze, because Heeseung did not notice that the streetlight changed, and it was time for the pedestrians to pass.

Not to worry!

Heeseung was completely kicked out of his daze when your smaller hand grabbed his, pulling him along the street. His eyes were glued to the two of your hands, especially where they connected. For someone sniffly, your hands were warm. He liked the way that they fit in his.

Even in the cool morning air, Heeseung suddenly felt warm all over.

You were in the middle of the sidewalk when Heeseung stopped. Feeling bold, he dropped his schoolbag, and began slipping off his thick, black, leather jacket, before draping it over your shoulders.

When you looked up at him with those curious doe eyes, all his boldness went away.

"Y-You're cold aren't you?" He avoided looking you in the eyes. "Just... Just take it. Y-You can give it back later... or whatever."

You giggled, slipping your arms into the sleeves.

God, you looked so cute in his jacket. Heeseung was going to melt.

And he did melt, because you began doing cute twirls to show off the jacket, posing for him.

"How do I look?" you cheekily asked, popping your leg up.

Heeseung was speechless, his mouth just left agape. He had to force himself to speak.

"Cute..." he answered, barely audible.

A grin was growing on your face. "Sorry, I didn't hear you. How do I look?"

Heeseung squeezed his eyes shut, huffing. "I said you looked cute!"

The sight of Heeseung's pink cheeks and his cute little pout was enough for you to be satisfied. Before the boy could realize what he said, you picked up his school bag for him, shoving it into one of his hands, before snatching his free hand. You pulled him gently to continue walking, but Heeseung was frozen in place, eyes too busy on you.

"Heeeeee," you elongated your syllables. You squeezed his hand twice, tugging him again. "We can't be late to class, can we?"

Heeseung audibly gulped. "Y-Yeah. You're right.."

You guys began walking again, neither of you wanting to let each other’s hands go.

"And then she held my hand— Isn't that crazy?! She held my hand!"

"Heeseung-hyung, please, I am peeing right now."

It was the lunch period once again. As Heeseung and Sunghoon traversed the hallways to get to the stairwell, the older of two chatted about the events that morning.

"So you held her hand?" Sunghoon asked half-heartedly, barely listening. "And then what?"

Heeseung perked up. "And then we walked to class together, and then she—"

"That's cool and all," the younger friend was walking in front of him. Sunghoon turned over his shoulder. "But did you get any more information about the letter fiasco?"

Oh.

No, Heeseung didn't.

When they reached the rooftop, his friends gently nudged him to get more information about the letter.

"You don't want to have one of those 'too late' moments, right?" Jungwon said, chewing on his rice ball. "What if by the time you gather the courage to talk to her, [Name] is already walking off into the sunset hand-in-hand with her secret admirer?!"

"What's with you guys and walking off into the sunset..." Heeseung muttered, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm serious, hyung!"

"I second that," Jay said lazily.

"I second that," Riki mocked in a squeaky voice, earning him a soft smack at the back of his head.

"Well, what am I supposed to do?" Heeseung asked, frustrated. "I can talk to her or her friends later, but not right now."

Jake scoffed. "What's stopping you from going back inside and talking to [Name] right now?"

The eldest boy didn't have an answer. That's true. There wasn't anything stopping Heeseung from talking to you right now. All the boys were now watching him for an answer, ready to pounce on him for being a coward.

"I don't know!" Heeseung finally said. "I've used up all of my bravery today... I don't think I have it in me to talk to her!"

His friends stared at him questioningly, until the silence was broken by Sunoo taking a loud and very obviously fake phonecall.

"Hi! Yes! Mhm. He's right here. Yeah. Mhm. Thank you!"

Sunoo hung up loudly, and looked at Heeseung with a cocked brow. "I was just on the phone with Yunjin. She says you should probably go talk to [Name]."

Heeseung looked at Sunoo incredulously, but the expectant expressions on his friends' faces made him groan.

"Fine!"

As Heeseung creeped down the school hallway, he came to the classroom that you hung out in at lunch: your homeroom. Standing outside the door, the boy took a deep breath.

Relax, it's just [Name], he had to tell himself, as if that helped at all. What was he even going to say?

'Hey, are you dating the person that sent you that letter? If you aren't, do you want to get married to me? Haha.'

????

Just as Heeseung was about to slide the door open, he heard a very familiar laugh from inside. Of course he could recognize it. After all, it was you.

"Yuri is so cute!" he heard you giggle. "She wrote me that little letter as a joke, but I think I'm actually in love with her."

In.

Love.

With.

Her.

"Awww, Yuri, come here and give me a kiss!"

Come.

Give.

You.

Kiss.

"I'm gonna marry you, Yuri!"

Marry.

You.

Yuri.

To Heeseung, everyone was an enemy. No matter their gender or class, the moment that he heard that you got a love letter, everyone became a suspect. It all made sense now. Yuri Jo, the 'Yuri' that you were talking about and to, was from Class 2. He knew that you and her were friends, but he didn't know that you were romantically interested in her.

Jungwon was right. Now you were going to walk off into the sunset hand-in-hand with her!

hee: guys what if [name] is already taken :(

jakey: what are you on about this time

There was something scary about a 6-feet tall guy mulling around and sulking all day, so luckily no one got in Heeseung's way as he brooded. Unfortunately, he felt his heart hurt whenever he looked at you. Almost cartoonishly, he'd turn away, close his eyes in dramatic pain, and pout. Although he acted a little bit theatrical, it was no doubt that Heeseung felt sad. He really thought he had a chance with you, and now he felt stupid.

Except, he was stupid.

But for a different reason.

"Jesus Christ, you're actually hopeless, Heeseung."

After school, your friends cornered him, somewhere where you wouldn't see. His friends were somehow in close communication with your friends.

"I can't believe you thought me and [Name] were actually dating!"

Heeseung scowled, crossing his arms over his chest, as he leaned against a locker. Before him stood Yunjin, Winter, Yuri, along with a few other of your friends, Hitomi and Minju.

"I don't know!" Heeseung huffed. "Everyone is an enemy to me—” he glanced at Yuri— “Including Yuri.”

Yunjin scoffed in disbelief. "You're insane."

Soooo... You weren't in any romantic relationship with anyone. Yuri sent you that letter as a joke, and you were just really close to her. Good.

"I don't know how I feel about this guy getting with our [Name]," Winter muttered to Hitomi and Minju, but loud enough for Heeseung to hear.

"Hey!"

"I know, he's a total dumbass," Minju grumbled back.

"Dude, I'm right here!"

Hitomi rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Well, are you free on Friday after school?"

"Yeah, why?" They always asked Heeseung that question when they had some crazy plan up their sleeve. Not like he was any better.

"Wellll," Hitomi began in a sing-songy voice. "[Name] really wants to go to that Cinnamoroll Sweet Cafe in Hongdae on Friday, but none of us are available."

Heeseung nodded slowly.

"I think it'd be a good way for you to get closer to her, dontcha think?"

And that's how Heeseung scored his first (unofficial) date with you

When your friends told you that Heeseung would accompany you to Hongdae, you almost jumped for joy. Almost. Friday couldn't come any faster. The plan was that you'd meet Heeseung at the train station at 4:30PM, meaning that you had a bit of time to change and get ready. You didn't want to get too ahead of yourself and call it a date, but oh boy did you want to.

What were you going to wear? What if you were too formal? Should you go for a casual look or something more put-together? You needed to impress him!

When Friday came, you practically ran home to get ready. You perfected your makeup, and put on your prettiest outfit. Spraying yourself with your signature perfume, you looked in the mirror. Hopefully, he'll like how you look.

At the corner of your eye, you spot a black, leather jacket. His black, leather jacket. Without even thinking, you slinked toward it, slipping into the jacket. It smelled like him, the faint scent of his cologne lingering on the leather.

With a final glance in the mirror, you left for the train station.

On the other hand, to say that Heeseung was nervous for the date was an understatement. His heart was about to fall out of chest. He changed into something more casual, made sure to brush out his disheveled hair, and reapplied his cologne. He came to the train station 20 minutes early, just in case something went terribly wrong. He glanced at his phone. For the date, he managed to get a hold of your number, for “communication purposes.” He’d wanted to text you all week, but didn’t have the courage to.

“Hee?” your soft voice calling his name got his attention. Behold, you standing there before him, all dolled up and pretty. This must be the sight he’ll see when he enters heaven, he thought.

“Hi,” he said, his eyes glazing over your face. You were so pretty. Did you dress up for him? He didn’t want to get ahead of himself, but the idea that you wanted to look good for him made Heeseung’s heart skip a beat. “You look…”

He didn’t mean to say that. You smile bashfully. “I look…?”

“So pretty,” Heeseung breathed. “You look so pretty.”

“Thank you,” you smile. Your fingers reach for the hem of his shirt, playing with it, which sends his heart racing. “Well, I think you look handsome, Hee.”

“Th-Thanks.”

The two of you stare into each other’s eyes for a few moments, and Heeseung swears that you’re looking at his lips. You spoke up, breaking the silence. “You notice anything about me?”

Heeseung grasped the collar of his jacket gently with both hands. “My jacket.”

“I was going to give it back to you earlier,” you begin, eyes trained on his lips, “But I think I’ll keep it for today, yeah? Since I look so pretty in it.”

“Oh fuck,” Heeseung cursed under his breath, loud enough for you to hear it and giggle. “Yeah, you can keep it for as long as you want.”

“As long as I want?” you purred, taking a step closer to him. Although it wasn’t clear to anyone else, you were a mess inside. Your heart was palpitating so hard that you could hear it in your ears. Your throat felt dry, and your hands were shaking with mere anxiety and excitement. “What about forever?”

Heeseung cracked a grin. “Do whatever you want. You’re pretty.”

If it wasn’t for the train announcement, you thought you would have kissed his pretty lips right then and there. Taking Heeseung’s hand, you led him to your train cart.

“Let’s go, Hee.”

The train is much more packed than you expected, but it was the beginning of the weekend after all. The trip from Gyeonggi Province to Hongdae should take no less than an hour. Unfortunately, because of the amount of people in the train, you and Heeseung had to stand for the majority of the time. It should have been uncomfortable, but it simply wasn't. Because you were with Heeseung.

Standing only a few inches away from the boy, your chests almost pressed against each other. You could feel his breath fan your cheeks. The both of you held onto the pole, hands barely brushing against each other when the cart shook against the rails.

At some point, the shaking was a lot more aggressive than it had previously been. Instinctively, your hand reached for his broad shoulders for stability. Likewise, Heeseung reached for your waist, holding you in place. You and Heeseung shared a long, drawn-out look, eyes getting lost in one another's, before you both avert your gazes shyly, muttering, "sorry." Yet, neither of you moved your hands from their newfound positions.

As minutes passed on the train, your eyes were glued to Heeseung, at least when he wasn't watching.

You loved the reddish blush that naturally decorated his under-eyes, and the natural corally red at tinted the tip of his ears. His glossy eyes and heart-shaped lips had to be your favorite feature of his, if not for his large, yet delicate hands, so gentle and soft.

You were deep in thought when you suddenly felt a hand creeping on your leg. Nimble fingers from behind, brushing up against the hem of your dress. From the corner of your eye, you saw an older man. He looked unkempt and scruffy, like a delinquent– but nothing like Heeseung. Heeseung looked much better than him.

The man reeked of cigarettes and musk. A nasty grin spread across his face as he peered down at your exposed legs. His hands creeped toward them again, now slightly pushing your dress up. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, your entire body stiffening. Your heart began to pound in your chest, your cheeks and skin feeling hot.

Panic overtook your system. Your once soft breaths became much shorter and quicker, inhaling and exhaling shallow air.

You’ve never been in a situation like this; you’d never wished, thought, or even considered something like this happening to you– why would you? You had no idea what to do, and were not at all prepared for this. The train was packed to the brim, this man was much bigger and stronger than you, and you did not know how to fight.

The hand moved past your skirt, now under it and directly in contact with your skin. The hand felt dirty, brushing against you. A small frantic whimper escaped your lips when the man’s hand squeezed your bare thigh. It was a small sound, barely audible in the vast bustle of the subway. However, someone did hear it.

Heeseung, doe-eyed and lost in his own world, immediately darted his eyes over to you the moment he heard a sound of discomfort.

When your eyes met, you could only signal helplessly. Your gaze was wide, pupils dilated, with fear and panic. Heeseung’s eyes narrowed, staring into your eyes for a moment before analyzing your expression. The way you were extremely tense and overwrought casted a sense of suspicion in his head, and your eyes that were seemingly pleading him made him think.

Help, your eyes said.

Heeseung’s dark eyes flickered from your face, to your entire body language, and back to your face, before he spotted a few, foreign fingers creeping around your leg area.

Your shifty eyes kept moving from Heeseung’s to the side, but now that he looked at it, it was like they were pointing behind you. And lo and behold, behind you was a musky pervert, who was shamelessly touching you.

“[Name]…” he whispered. His fists clenched, teeth gritting. He sucked in a deep breath, feeling anger build up in his stomach. You whimpered again in response. He brought a hand to ghost over your shoulder, pushing you very, very, gently to the side. “Move.”

He wound up his fist and sent the hardest punch he could muster to the man square in the jaw.

The man lurched back immediately, his hand moving far, far, away from you. A groan left his lips, his head being thrown back in pain. The man’s fall had pushed a few other people down as well. Other bystanders watched on in shock. Some took out their phones to record and take pictures, others to tell their friends.

You just stood still, leaning into Heeseung, whose fist was a faint red color. With a very careful hand, he brushed the lifted hem of your dress down, which had been messed with earlier.

The man quickly got up once he noticed the new and tense silence over the subway cart.

“Hey!” he shouted, pushing himself up from his downtrodden position. “You little punk, who the fuck do you think you-”

The train announcer called for the stop. Heeseung, ignoring the man, took your arm, pulling you out the door. Before he himself left, Heeseung landed a kick to the man’s crotch, muttering, “Fucking bastard.”

"W-Wait, Hee-!"

Heeseung was silent as the train doors opened, only pulling you along with him. When the two of you were far from the train, he finally stopped, turning to you.

"Are you okay?" was all he asked. You shifted uncomfortably at the thought of what happened earlier.

"Y-Yeah..." you played with the hem of his jacket sheepishly. "Thanks for what you did back there."

Heeseung jolted up at the mention. He didn't love using violence, despite his 'delinquent' reputation, especially in front of you. His hands joined yours at the hem of his jacket, shyly brushing up against yours.

"Next time," he began, beginning to play with the zipper, "I'll fight every person on that train so that you can sit."

You smiled softly. "You don't have to do that, Hee."

Heeseung slowly zipped up his jacket on you, meeting your eyes, before straightening out your collar.

"But I want to," he breathed. You gazed at him. His hands were still on the collar of the jacket, close to your face. You noticed the red smudges on his knuckles from punching the man on the train. You took that hand, opening it up, and nuzzling your cheek into it. You took his other hand. To Heeseung's surprise, you pressed soft kisses on his knuckles, rubbing them with your thumb.

"What are you..." his breath hitched when your eyes flickered to his, holding steady eye-contact.

You pressed one last kiss on his palm. "Thank you, Hee. Really."

"Of course, [Name]," he finally whispered. "Anything for you."

And so, your first date with Heeseung began.

The sweet scent of cinnamon and pastries hit your noses the moment you guys stepped into the Cinnamoroll Cafe. When you were seated, you took a look at the menu. So far, the date was going smoothly. Other than the run-in at the beginning, the chemistry between the two of you was sparking. The conversation was flowing, and if that already wasn't a dream come true, you kept touching Heeseung. On your end, you were practically vibrating in your seat with the sheer amount of excitement you had bubbling in you. You couldn't believe you were on a date with the Heeseung Lee sharing a strawberry banana parfait.

"Hee," you said, motioning him to come closer to you. He did, so you cupped his cheek, bringing your thumb up to wipe a stray piece of the parfait from his cheek.

"Oh-" Heeseung's face reddened. How embarrassing! Did you think he was a slob now? You only giggled, bringing both hands up to hold his face. You squished the boy's cheeks, laughing at the way his brows cutely crashed into each other.

"You're so cute, Hee," you said, playing with his cheeks. "The cutest."

That's all you, he thought. You're going to drive him crazy.

Or, at least he thought he thought.

Did he just say that out loud? Heeseung groaned when you threw your head back laughing, hiding his own face in your palms. You chuckled.

Feeling bold, you cupped his cheeks again. You leaned closer, holding his face close to yours. You kissed a soft and chaste kiss on his nose. You couldn't help the heat that rose to your cheeks as the boy flopped over the table, hiding his face in his arms. You ran your fingers through his hair comfortingly, cooing at his cuteness.

"You can't do this to me," Heeseung murmured.

You laughed. It wouldn't hurt to tease him a little more, right? You leaned down, giving the boy another kiss. This time, though, you kissed the top of his head.

"Hee, baby, you're just the cutest, you know that right?"

Heeseung combusted.

After the Cafe, Heeseung and you walked around the Hongdae Festival Street. By now, it was beginning to get darker outside, the air cooling down. It was cold, but to Heeseung, it was perfect, because now he had an excuse to hold your hand. As the two of you walked and talked, you enjoyed the sight of the lights and bustling street.

Suddenly, a new voice interrupted the two of you's conversation. Turning around, you saw two guys who looked around your age. They were holding a camera and a microphone.

"Hi!" they said, smiling. "We're interviewing couples in Hongdae, would you guys like to be in it? We’ll blur your faces."

Heeseung glanced your joined hands, then back at the two guys, then back at your hands, "O-Oh, we're not a coupl—"

You cut him off. "Of course, we'd love to!"

You flashed Heeseung a grin, squeezing his hand twice, almost as if to say, 'Just go with it.' His ears began to burn, his neck prickling with warmth, before clearing his throat. "Y-Yeah..." he squeezed your hand, "We'd love to."

The two guys cheered, turning on their camera. "All right, first question. How did you guys meet?"

"We went to middle school together," you were quick to answer. "I thought he was really cute, but we didn't start talking until this year."

You didn't know what the fuck you were saying. Was it risky to be so truthful for an internet interview, right in front of your long-time crush? Absolutely. But your heart was pounding so hard in your chest, simply waiting for Heeseung's response.

On the other hand, Heeseung's mind was in complete shambles. Were you telling the truth? The way you answered so smoothly with absolutely no hesitation made it almost seem natural.

"And you?" the interviewer asked. "What did you think about her when you first met?"

"I—" Heeseung's breath hitched. "I thought she was the most beautiful person I'd ever seen."

The way you glanced at him made Heeseung's heart feel like it was about to fall out. "I.. I still think that."

Your expression was unreadable, your lips pressing into a thin line. Then, a huge smile broke out on your face.

"Awww, Heeeee! I didn't know you thought about me like that!" You squeezed his hand again, and he squeezed it back.

"How long have you guys been together?" the interviewer asked.

"We just started dating!" You answered enthusiastically, a weird, surprised sound coming from Heeseung.

The rest of the interview went smoothly, with you mostly answering the questions. You quietly thanked the interviewers, and you and Heeseung were on your way.

Your words kept ringing in Heeseung's head.

Especially your answer to the question, "Why did you like him?"

You answered, "Because he's so perfect."

Heeseung? Perfect? He couldn't believe his ears! Were you telling the truth?

A calm silence fell over you and Heeseung as you walked the bustling streets of Hongdae. That question lingered in his mind, and before he knew it, his mouth was moving faster than his mind.

"Did you mean anything you said?"

His voice seemed to reverberate against the night air, ringing in his ears. You chewed on your lip. Then, you sucked in a sharp breath.

"Of course, Hee," you finally answered. "If it's you, I mean everything."

Heeseung sucked his bottom lip into his teeth, biting down so hard he drew blood. Once again, his hands found home on the hem of his jacket draped over you.

"Good." He couldn't meet your eyes, not with the knowledge that you meant everything you said. He forced his attention onto the hem of the leather jacket that you were wearing, too shy to look at you.

Heeseung only looked up when he felt your thumb pressing against his lip, eyes widening.

"Don't bite your lip too hard, Hee," you said, a smile in your voice. You thumb swiped against his lip, wiping off the small blotch of blood on it. "You'll bleed, and I'll have to kiss it better."

Heeseung's tongue darted out to swipe over his bleeding lip, brushing against your thumb. "What if I want you to kiss it better?"

"Well, then you better not keep me waiting."

His eyes flickered to your lips. He wanted to kiss them so bad. They looked so soft. What would they taste like? You liked strawberries— maybe they'd taste like that. When he didn't say or do anything, you changed the topic, unable to hide the disappointment in your face.

"Did you mean it?" You asked. "When you said that I was the most beautiful person you'd ever seen?"

"Oh my god, yes," Heeseung said under his breath, eyes still trained on your lips. "Always."

Another silence fell of you two, simply getting lost in each other's eyes. Maybe it was something in the Hongdae air, but Heeseung felt brave. His hand slithered to your waist, bringing you closer to him. When you slid your hands up his chest, resting them on his shoulders, Heeseung audibly gulped. Your faces inched closer and closer, until you could feel his breath against your cheek. You wanted to lean in and close the gap so bad. And you could tell that he wanted to, too.

Just as you were about to, however, the sound of a car honking and tires screeching interrupted you. Heeseung instinctively pulled away, his head whipping around to look at the commotion.

Oh hell no.

You were not going to let that stop you.

You snatched Heeseung's hand, before pulling him with you. You don't know how much you ran, or for how long, but you ran and ran until you found an empty alleyway.

You pushed him against the hard, concrete wall, a bit harsher than you expected too. Holding him by his shoulders, you put all your weight on him, caging him against the wall.

"You'd let me kiss you, right?" you rasped, out of breath.

Heeseung, also breathless, stared at you, lips parted.

"I thought I already said," he breathed, "Do whatever you want. You're pretty."

With that, you crashed your lips onto his. His lips were soft, a little chapped. It felt so surreal. The scent of his cologne made you feel dizzy. When you pulled away, it was evident that he was feeling the same as you were.

It was a chaste kiss, but the tension was so thick in the air. Somehow, that made it even more intimate.

"Wow..." was all Heeseung could utter. Under the moonlight, with you pressed up against him, you looked so goddamn pretty. Your face was illuminated with the pale light, making you look like an angel. Was he in heaven? Did he die yet? He wouldn't mind if he died right then and there, now that you (you!) kissed him. "Fuck, you're gonna kill me, [Name]."

"But you'd like it, right? Because I'm so pretty." The teasing tone in your voice would normally make Heeseung melt, but all he could do was grin.

"You know I would."

The rest of the night, you and Heeseung don't kiss anymore. Not because you guys didn't want to kiss, but because the adrenaline wore off, and now the both of you were shy. It was almost comical, the way both of you completely reverted back to your bashful and sheepish selves, barely able to make eye-contact with each other.

"Thank you for tonight, Hee," you hummed, as you and Heeseung walked to the train station, hand-in-hand. "I had a lot of fun."

He scanned your face. The slight curve on your lips (oh god, your lips, the way the corner of your lip had a smudge of lipstick from kissing him earlier —how badly he wanted to kiss them again) was contagious. "Of course. I had a lot of fun, too."

The train ride back was quiet. You eventually began dozing off, resting your head on his shoulder.

"You did what?!" was the collective reaction of both you and Heeseung's friends. After that Friday together, you called together all of your friends to your house, to spill the beans. Likewise, Heeseung forced every single one of his friends into his living room.

"Ouuu, you little flirt!" Yunjin exclaimed. Currently, Yunjin, Winter, Hitomi, Yuri, and Minju were seated on your bedroom floor, while you dramatically flopped around on your bed.

It was now that you explained to your friends your long-time crush on Heeseung, much to their pleasant surprise.

"And then what happened?" Minju asked, filing her finger-nails. "Did you profess your undying love for him?"

You groaned into your pillow. "I can't!"

"Why not?" Winter quirked a brow. "You guys literally kissed."

You let out another groan. "What if he doesn't like me like that?"

Your friends deadpanned.

Heeseung Lee didn't like you. He loved you. They would know better than anyone.

"[Name], honey, you're overthinking it," Yuri nudged you with her foot. "He gave you his jacket. I think that says enough."

"Well, what if I'm just getting ahead of myself and he's just being nice?"

"Girl..."

Heeseung had a similar reaction.

All of his friends stared at him like he just punched their grandmothers.

"You can't be serious right now, hyung..." Sunghoon said, pinching his nose-bridge.

All of his friends were piled onto one couch, while Heeseung laid out on the one across from them, almost like they were in a therapy session.

"What if she just thinks I'm a good friend?" Heeseung used his hands to speak, theatrically moving them.

"What makes you think that?" Sunoo asked incredulously.

Heeseung groaned. "[Name] tells Yuri Jo that she wants to marry her and they're good friends."

"Okay, and?"

"Well," Heeseung huffed. "What if [Name] kissed me because she sees me the same way that she sees Yuri?"

"Well, I'm good friends with Jungwon-hyung and I don't kiss him," Riki said matter-of-factly.

"Right..." Jungwon nodded his head slowly. "Hyung, do you really think a good friend would pin you against a wall and kiss you?"

"Do you think a good friend would kiss you three times and then call you cute like a bajillion other times?!" Jake chimed in.

"Let alone choose to keep your jacket?!" Jay sounded tired.

Heeseung clasped his hands together, thinking for a few moments.

"Yes."

All of his friends groaned in defeat.

"You're hopeless."

After a lot of urging and cross-communication between friend-groups, both of your friends managed to convince both you and Heeseung to confess to each other the next Monday.

"What if I faint the moment she says my name?" Heeseung catastrophized to Jay in the school bathroom.

"Uh, I doubt that, hyung."

Heeseung texted you to meet him under the stairwell, and that was when he was going to confess. On your end, the moment that he texted that, you decided that you'd confess to him then.

When the time came, Heeseung headed out to the stairwell. His hands were clammy, and even when he wiped him on his uniform pants, he couldn't stop the trembling of his hands. What if everyone was instilling false hope in him? Gosh, Heeseung thought he was going to throw up. His stomach was churning, he was going to collapse if he saw you right now—

"Hee?" Your voice broke him out of his internal spiral. Seemingly, there was a halo around you, a light so bright that Heeseung was blinded.

"H-Hi," he stammered, straightening out his posture and clearing his throat.

Your hands were clasped behind your back, leaning forward toward him. "You wanted to talk to me, yeah?"

Heeseung couldn't bring himself to meet your gaze, his shoes suddenly becoming interesting. "Y-Yeah..."

The hallway where the stairwell was located was beginning to feel stuffy. Heeseung had never felt so nervous in his life. He was light-headed, barely able to even balance himself.

"Hee," you reached out to touch his arm, noticing his discomfort. "Let's go outside, okay?"

Going outside should have helped him cool down, but when you shrugged on his leather jacket to combat the cool air, Heeseung realized that there was no way in hell that he was going to get through this confession without dropping dead.

The two of you walked around the school yard for a few minutes in silence.

How should he start this confession? He had Sunghoon and Jake write out a script for him, and he spent the entire night memorizing it, but now in your presence he couldn't remember a single word. Should he have written a letter like Yuri Jo? Heeseung couldn't possibly contain himself.

"Hee," you finally said, disrupting the silence. "I have something to tell you."

Heeseung's mind wandered to the worst case scenario.

You're going to tell him that you're moving across the world to marry the love of your life, aren't you? You're going to say that he's a great friend and that you just got a boyfriend, right?

No, he needed to tell you his feelings first! If he didn't now, he'd never, and he'd burst into a million pieces!

"M-Me too!" he blurted, stopping in his tracks.

You blinked at him, then smiled.

Oh, no! It's actually happening!

He could already hear your voice saying, "Hi, Heeseung, my boyfriend just proposed to me and you're invited to the wedding."

You sucked in a breath, parting your lips to speak.

He needed to tell you first! The little demons in his head kept replaying the scene of you asking him to be your groom of honor at your wedding with the love of your life next Saturday. He could hear the marriage officiant announcing, “I now pronounce you husband and wife” at your wedding, and he imagined himself sitting in that little wedding venue holding back tears.

Oh my god, he needed to say it now, or he'll never say it ever!

"Hee, I really--"

Heeseung cut you off. He squeezed his eyes shut, hands balling into fists.

"I like you, [Name]!" he yelled.

You stared at him in disbelief. Or were you flustered? Heeseung couldn't tell. With too much adrenaline in his veins, Heeseung threw away all the preparation and drafted scripts he and his friends made for this very moment.

"I-I.. I like you so much, I'm scared that I'm going to explode!" Heeseung continued shouting at you. He had no idea what he was saying. All he was doing was telling you the thoughts he'd had about you all this time. "You're so, so, so pretty and I can't believe that you're an actual, real, physical, person, and you make me feel so fucking stupid, I can't take it."

Your eyes were bulging out of your head at this point, your jaw dropped.

"I've never liked anyone like I've liked you, a-and I just wanted to tell you this before you... you go off with someone else!"

Heeseung kept his eyes shut when he was done confessing, letting out a labored breath. There was no way that he could face you. The silence that fell over the two of you made Heeseung's heart sink to the bottom of his stomach. He squeezed his eyes in embarrassment. He gripped the hem of his shirt to relieve the bubbling anxiety inside him. Gosh, he was going to puke.

After a few moments, nothing happened. You didn't say a word. Did you just leave him there standing? Of course, you did. You were probably too kind and angelic to outright reject him. He was a fool to think that he had a chance with you—

Heeseung heard footsteps, and before he could react, he felt a pair of lips on his.

His eyes shot open.

You.

Were.

Kissing.

Him.

!!!

After he confessed!

Poor boy was so stiff, eyes wide.

Did that mean you liked him back?

You pulled away.

Usually, you had a reassuring smile on your face by default. Even during times where you were embarrassed, you almost never showed it on your face.

But this time, your entire face was painted with a flustered expression. Your cute lips jutted out in a mini pout, while your eyes were glued to the ground, avoiding his gaze.

A few pulses passed.

"I... I like you, too... by the way," you murmured.

Another few pulses passed.

You. Liked. Him.

Nonononono wait, was he dreaming?

You.

YOU.

The beautiful, angelic you.

Liked him.

Without thinking, Heeseung stepped forward, gently grabbing your face.

"You're real, right?" he breathed. When glossy eyes stared back at him, Heeseung felt warmth spread across his chest. Your lips looked so appealing right now, he was craving them again. "I'm not dreaming, yeah?"

You blinked at him a few times. The corners of your lips quirked upward.

"Why, because I'm 'so pretty that you can't believe I'm real?' " your voice had a teasing tone in it, referencing his earlier confession. Heeseung chuckled, letting go of your face so that he could slide his hands to where they belonged: around your waist.

"Just kiss me," he mumbled, looking at you with lidded eyes.

You grinned. "Gladly."

With that, you smashed your lips onto his. Instead of the chaste, soft, kisses that you shared earlier, this one was different. You shoved your tongue into Heeseung's mouth, exploring all its crevices. Poor boy was so surprised that he squeezed your waist, letting out a small whine. The feeling of you smirking against his lips gave him butterflies.

You finally pulled away breathless, but gave him no time to breathe. You grasped his chin, giving you easy control.

"You drive me so crazy," he murmured against the shell of your ear.

You pressed a kiss at the juncture between his neck and ear. "I drive you crazy?" you cocked your brow.

"You," you muttered. You began pressing kisses down his jaw.

“Drive.”

Kiss.

“Me.”

Kiss.

“So-”

Kiss.

"Fucking-"

Kiss.

"Crazy."

Before you could pounce on him with more kisses, Heeseung, red in the face, flopped over you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. He let out a cute groan.

"What, are you getting shy on me?" you teased him, running your fingers through his hair. He shook his head against your shoulder, making you coo.

"I can't believe you like me back, that's all," he mumbled, muffled by your shoulder.

You laughed. "How? I feel like I was so obvious."

Heeseung looked up at you with pink cheeks, frowning. "You don't even want to know how hopelessly in love with you I was."

You quirked a brow at him.

"Yeah?" You pecked his forehead. "Try me."

Heeseung let out a breathy chuckle. He attacked your lips.

"How about I show you?"

FIN.

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated :)

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen fic #heeseung #heeseung x reader #heeseung fluff #heeseung imagines #heeseung enhypen #lee heeseung #star-sim #vanya writes

2K notes · View notes

zazter-den · 8 months

Text

Sweet Tooth

Minors Do Not Interact

Common Scents Series: Cat Bath, Sweet Tooth.

Synopsis- Izuku likes the freedom of being a very private business owner when he has dual lives to run. After all it allows him to "hire" himself as a new worker to get close to Barista!Reader- Wait, why do you smell burnt?

Warnings- Yandere, Dubcon, Stalking, Drugging, Overstim, Size Diff, Mindbreak.

Tags-Aged up(obviously), Hybrid AU, Rabbit!Izuku, Dom!Izuku, Afab!reader, Sub!Reader. Kitchen sex, Scentmarking, Creampie, Excessive seed, Undercover boss, Oral!receiving.

Word Count- 8.1K, because apparently I missed the coziness of Autumn

Izuku sat in the manager's office, the soft glow of the moon filtered through the skylight, casting a gentle radiance upon his features. Short, curly forest green hair, slightly disheveled from his earlier preparations, framed his face in an endearing manner as he sat back in the cushy chair. His emerald green eyes, filled with anticipation, seemed to glimmer and reflect the moonlight, adding a glow to his gaze.

Sitting up, he carefully removed his silver rings with practiced ease, each etched with swirling thorned vines and placed them into a velvet-lined box before making his way to the safe hidden in the wooden paneling of the small room.

Next, Izuku's attention turned to his hunting knife, a weapon as beautiful as it is deadly. He gripped the handle, his hand steady and sure, and twirled it effortlessly in the air. The moonlight danced along the metal, illuminating the intricate green thorn designs that ran down the blade. With a measured flick of his wrist, Izuku sheathed the blade, and it disappeared into the hidden safe. The compartment closed with a soft click, concealed behind an intricately designed wooden panel once again. Sealing away his secrets until they are needed once more.

Leaving the manager's office behind, Izuku made his way through the empty cafe, his steps light and silent as he headed toward the kitchen to prepare for the day ahead. The 'Lunar Rabbit' cafe's pristine jade green walls, soft lighting, and delicate hanging glass terrariums created a serene atmosphere, inviting its inhabitants to relax and escape the chaos of the outside world. Izuku being no exception.

In the quiet solitude of the kitchen, the signature evergreen scent of the café mingled with the aroma of matcha and lime. Izuku's tall figure gracefully moved around the kitchen, his large rabbit ears twitching with every soft sound. Like second nature, he set up the kitchen before taking the bright green citrus butter out of the fridge.

When it came to rabbit hybrids, most people weren't used to seeing Flemish Giants. Clad in a light green t-shirt, tightly hugging his well-defined muscles, Izuku's towering physique was more reminiscent of a predator hybrid, his strength barely hidden beneath a veneer of dorky charm and wit.

With precise movements, Izuku began preparing the perfectly striped, two-toned croissants that the 'Lunar Rabbit' cafe is known for. He measured the ingredients meticulously, his attention to detail reflected in every step. There is a comfort and tranquility in the act of creating, a stress reliever that he cherished amidst his dual lives.

The rhythmic sound of his palm hitting the dough, gently flattening it, filled the dark kitchen. Izuku's movements are methodical and precise, almost hypnotizing, as he continued to work on the matcha-lime croissant dough. His thoughts drifted to his upcoming shift with you, and he couldn't help but feel a wave of excitement wash over him.

Izuku was under your spell from your very first shift at one of his cafes. He had watched you on the security cameras for months, studying every little detail. Your moves, your smile, the way you interacted with customers. Izuku was drawn to you like a moth to flame, captivated by charm and spirit.

Izuku imagined you standing there, your lovely form illuminated by the soft café lights, under the delicate swaying terrarium spheres. He could already see himself making your favorite flavored latte, as he's seen you make it countless times on the security feed. How many times did he tweak that syrup to get it just to your liking? The thought of serving you a cup he made himself brought a smile to his face, his green eyes glowing with anticipation.

Lost in his fantasies, Izuku accidentally spilled some flour onto his t-shirt. Chuckling softly to himself, he brushed off the white powder and ran his fingers between his ears and through his short curly forest green hair, basking in the thrill of the upcoming shift.

He focused his attention on the task at hand, skillfully wrapping the mix in plastic wrap and placing it in the fridge to rest until tomorrow. Drumming a brawny calloused hand against the fridge door, he grabbed a sheet of pre-chilled blueberry-lemon dough before closing the door with his heel.

At the kitchen island counter, Izuku's hands worked the dough skillfully, his fingers deftly shaping it into perfect croissants. The dough was soft and pliable, and Izuku liked the feel of the texture against his fingertips. It was smooth and velvety, the aroma of smashed berries and lemon rind wafted through the air as he worked. Izuku appreciated scents that complimented his own. Citrus, teas, your jasmine-like signature.

Shaping the pastry mix, his mind briefly wandered to thoughts of what it would be like to touch you, to feel your curves beneath his hands. Lost again in daydreams, Izuku envisioned the feel of your silky skin against his callouses and scars, his mind conjuring images of your usual flowery fragrance intertwining with his yuzu and evergreen scent. The thought of your lips, soft and inviting, added to his desires, and his thoughts wandered to the taste of you, the way your lips would feel against his own.

Izuku's mind is completely consumed by the thought, and he could feel the heat pooling rapidly within him. He desperately wanted to trace the contours of your body, his fingertips exploring every inch, as his desire continued to build. His breath grew heavy. With a raspy whimper escaping his lips, Izuku momentarily lost himself in his fantasies, feeling bead of pre-cum line the tip of his straining erection. The excitement building within him became overpowering, overwhelming his senses.

As his arousal grew, Izuku's scent turned musky, blending with his natural citrus evergreen aroma. Izuku's eager slit continued to weep the viscous fluid, the sticky patch of his boxers trapped against the thick head of his dick. As he continued his task, every so often the precum slick fabric would slide forcefully against his tip, eliciting another deep groan from his lips. His need for you at this point was overwhelming, almost unbearable, and his foot tapped on the floor in rabbit-like frustrated anticipation.

It was a struggle for Izuku to maintain focused on his work, his mind overloaded with longing and the intense desire to fulfill every single one of his fantasies with you. He took a moment to compose himself, releasing a pent-up growl of frustration under his breath. He couldn't afford to lose his shit on day one and scare you off, he wasn't some amateur.

Knowing he must regain control, Izuku attempted to once again throw himself into getting the shop ready for the morning rush. With a reluctant sigh, Izuku carefully took out the raspberry two-toned croissants that he had prepped the day before, placing them on the kitchen island counter to be baked for today's morning rush.

Izuku looked at the clock hanging on the wall, he just needed to be patient.

⊰⋆∘☽༓☾∘⋆⊱⊰⋆∘☽༓☾∘⋆⊱⊰⋆∘☽༓☾∘⋆⊱⊰⋆∘☽༓☾∘⋆⊱⊰⋆∘☽༓☾∘⋆⊱⊰⋆∘☽༓☾∘⋆⊱

When you first stirred from slumber, your first instinct was to dive back under the blankets in the pre-dawn darkness. Slowly peeling back the covers of your cozy bed, the moon cast a dim glow through the window, barely highlighting your room.

As you slid your feet out from under the quilts and sat up in the chilly room, your sleep blurred gaze fell on the neatly arranged uniform laid out on the dresser. The tan and jade green dress holds an air of cute professionalism and elegance, perfectly suited for your role at one of the 'Lunar Rabbit' cafes.

As you took off your pajamas, your gaze wanders downward, landing upon the growing bruises and scratches that marred your sore hips. You shook your head softly, a mix of emotions flooding rational thoughts. Last night with Katsuki, the tiger you shared your apartment with, had been...intense to say the least, at times his territorial nature could cross bounds. It seemed his bestial inclinations towards you often manifested in these marks and an aching pussy full of the feral feline's load. It had been necessary to join him in the bath, to wash away any traces of other scents but his own, before he was satisfied last night.

Tossing your head in frustrated resignation, you took a deep breath, attempting to push the memory of those bruises aside. You adjusted your uniform in the mirror, determination to face the day with your usual brand of professionalism. With each careful movement, you purposefully shed the weight of hectic apartment life, transforming into the dedicated and fun-loving barista that your colleagues and patrons know you to be.

The early morning air carried an invigorating crispness as you stepped out of your apartment, the pitch darkness of the night slowly yielding to a beautiful, dark purple sky. The stars twinkled above, casting a gentle luminescence upon the world below. The beauty of the early morning took your breath away.

Walking through the quiet streets, you took in the sights of the autumn morning. Vibrant hues of orange and red adorned the foliage, casting a mystical fall atmosphere all around. The gentle crunching of leaves under your feet became a soothing background melody, heightening your anticipation for the day to come. It's a picturesque scene that brings a smile to your face as you take in the beauty around you.

The short walk to the 'Lunar Rabbit' café is refreshing, the cool breeze gently caresses your skin, and you can't help but lift your face towards the sky, embracing the tranquility of the morning. The scent of dew-kissed grass and the earthy fragrance of autumn fills the air, creating a calming atmosphere.

Unlocking the door, you entered the cozy café intricately designed with a charming lunar forest theme. Most of the walls were adorned in a relaxing jade green color, with glistening glass sphere terrariums hanging gracefully from the ceiling. Creating a sense of tranquility whenever the light caught the floating gardens just right.

But it's the back wall mural that always draws the attention of customers—a breathtaking depiction of ethereal rabbits, crafted from swirling shadows, engaged in a graceful dance beneath a moonlit sky adorned with countless stars.

The careful brush strokes bring the scene to life, immersing you in a mysterious and whimsical world. The rabbits are beautifully painted, their whirling silhouettes seem to come alive under the gentle glow of dawn and fairy lights, creating an otherworldly ambiance. It's a mesmerizing sight in the early morning, one that never failed to captivate you in the dark hours.

You stepped into the dim kitchen, a sense of familiarity washing over. The soft glow of the moon outside cast a gentle illumination, highlighting the edges of the counter tops and appliances. You began gathering the necessary ingredients to create the delectable quiches that will soon grace the cafe's display case.

The movement is sudden. You only caught the shifting of shadows on the opposite side of the kitchen out of the corner of your eye. Your heart thumped rapidly against your chest as your attention was drawn to the mysterious figure standing upright near the ovens, rising to full height in a fluid motion. The towering silhouette seemed to materialize out of nowhere from the depths of the dark kitchen. For a split second, you could swear you saw his eyes glimmer in the shadows, as if they were momentarily aglow with a vivid emerald light.

The initial shock sends a jolt of adrenaline coursing through your previously fatigued body. Startled by the unexpected sight, your muscles tensed, ready to defend yourself if necessary. Eyes narrowed, trying to make sense of the hulking man's presence, you ran through your options.

Then Izuku shifted forward, the illumination from the skylight instantly brightening his features. The ethereal glow revealed his forest green ears nestled in curly hair, and vivid green eyes, capturing the essence of mischief and charm that so often accompanies his presence. A genial grin tugged at the corners of his lips, “Mornin'!” he chirped, closing the oven behind him, the raspberry croissants settled on the racks. His soft rabbit ears entirely too perky for this pre-dawn hour.

Recognition immediately dawned on you, and a mix of relief and frenzied amusement flooded your features. A little laugh escaped your lips, laced with a touch of underlying nervousness, as your eyes met Izuku's. "Midoriya! Damn, you scared me." you exclaimed, the words tumbling out with a hint of manic energy. Izuku's grin widened as you stammered, the sound of his name on your lips seemingly delighting him. Your laughter lingered in the air, relief palpable. All you could do is laugh off the initial fright, glad to see a familiar face in the dimly lit tranquility of the kitchen.

Wait.

Your brow furrowed as confusion washed over. The gears in your exhaustion-addled mind began to turn, piecing together the inconsistency of Izuku's presence in the closed cafe at such an early hour. As a new employee, Izuku shouldn't have the keys to the establishment. "How did you get in?" You blurted out, voice equal parts curiosity and suspicion. You looked at him, searching for an explanation.

Attempting to quell any rising doubts, Izuku quickly weaved a web of deception, words slipping off his silver tongue with practiced ease. His response was laced with an air of authority, as if the decision had been handed down by corporate in a moment of desperation. "Ms.Usagiyama gave me a key," he stated, his voice confident and unwavering. "They needed someone to fill in as an overnight baker, and it seems I was their best option."

When was the last time he had called her anything but Mirko?

Your surprise was blatantly displayed across your face as you registered the information. You didn't expect management, especially Rumi, to be handing out keys so freely and enlist new employees for overnight baking duties. Then again... given the rather unexpected departure of one of the bakers, you supposed the situation must be dire enough to warrant such desperate measures given the shop's popularity.

“...It'll be nice to have help in the mornings” With a shrug, you dismissed your initial doubts, content to accept Izuku's explanation. After all, you're just a team lead, not really the position to harp on the decisions made by upper management when you'll only get a headache for your trouble. As the manager of your location, Rumi can deal with that nonsense. The fact that you're just honestly grateful for the extra hands during the morning rush seems to override any lingering uncertainties.

You stretched your arms out wide, movements fluid and graceful, as a yawn escaped your lips. Fatigue lingered beneath the surface, evident in the slight droop of your eyelids and the darkened circles barely visible beneath your eyes. A testament to your restless night of sleep, body aching from the intensity of the “bath” you shared with Katsuki.

You offered Izuku a small, tired smile as you spoke, voice carrying a soft, lingering weariness. "I'm going to get the quiches ready in the other oven," you said with sleepy determination.

A moment later, as you set about your task, Izuku's acute senses detected a faint scent of burning sugar, tickling the edges of his nostrils. His eyes immediately darted towards the ovens, but upon closer inspection, he realized that the raspberry croissants had only just begun baking, their doughy forms barely touched by the heat. He dismissed the fleeting scent, assuring himself that it must have been a mere figment of his imagination.

Silently observing you moved past him, Izuku's gaze lingered on the circles under your eyes, a telltale sign of exhaustion and a restless sleep. Concern flickered in his emerald gaze, a twinge of protectiveness already tugging at his chest. He silently resolved to ensure that in time you understood that he was there for your well-being, even if you remained blissfully unaware of his true intentions.

Taking it upon himself to ease your tiredness, Izuku moved with a flurry of efficiency at the tea counter. His fingers gracefully danced across the array of tea leaves, their aroma filling the air, selecting his own special blend to help ease your weary spirit. His movements were precise and purposeful, a silent gesture of care for the woman who stood just a few feet away. You vaguely heard the clink of one of the kettles, as he prepared a cup colored with your favorite hue.

You carefully closed the door of the oven, the final quiche now tucked away to bake to golden perfection. You wiped your hands on your apron, turning around just as Izuku walked over, cradling a cup of tea in his large hands. Leaning against the kitchen island, your tired eyes blinked back the haze of exhaustion, momentarily jolted back to alertness as Izuku approached.

“This the seasonal energy tea blend?” Your gaze drifted down to the cup, its colorful pattern a perfect match to your favorite shade. You paused for a moment, a flicker of surprise crossing your features, but quickly brushed off the coincidence. After all, how could the new guy know such a personal detail? Thanking Izuku with a sweet smile, you accepted the cup and immediately felt the relaxing warmth it radiated.

The steam rose in ethereal tendrils, almost imperceptible in the dim light that filtered through the skylight overhead. Your eyes followed the wisps up towards the still dark pink sunrise through the window, their graceful dance capturing your attention briefly before you brought the cup to your lips.

With each passing second, Izuku's senses were assailed by that same faint smell that evoked a sense of ...smoke? His brows furrowed ever so slightly, his eyes narrowing in confusion. It lingered in the air, a faint odor that didn't align with the barely warm food in the oven. Izuku couldn't have known it was due to Katsuki, your territorial roommate, his pheromones carrying a note of smoldering embers. The scent itself evoked a strong dislike within Izuku, as his attention to detail in the pastry-making artistry made even the slightest indication of burning a source of disdain. Izuku swept over the kitchen, muttering to himself, trying to locate the source of the offensive smell.

As your finished the last sip of the steaming tea, a wave of warmth washed over you, permeating your body from the inside out. The autumn morning chill retreated, replaced by a comforting sensation that wrapped around you like a cozy blanket. The embrace of the herbal infusion wove its soothing spell, making you feel pleasantly drowsy in the brisk kitchen.

"I'm thinking this new morning tea is a miss" you muttered as you glared half-heartedly at the leaf dregs of the delicious brew. The aching fatigue that had clung to you began to dissipate, replaced by a gentle drowsiness that weighed down your eyelids. A yawn escaped your lips, body responding to the tea's intended purpose. Izuku stepped close, closer than necessary, as he reached out to take the empty tea cup from your hand.

You held out the cup, your hand hovering in the air as Izuku moved closer. But it's in that moment, as Izuku inhaled the lingering scent, nose giving a small twitch, that his gaze narrowed with a sudden intensity. Your drowsy mind failed to register the glare of his emerald eyes, an indication of something more than casual curiosity.

"Why...do you smell like you fell in a damn bonfire?" Izuku's words carried a sharpness, a demand rather than mere inquiry. They sliced through the air, hanging there with a weight that is impossible to ignore. His voice had cut through the air with an uncharacteristic edge, void of the easygoing nature she had come to associate with the coworker facade he portrayed.

Your heart skipped a beat, embarrassment flooding your features as Izuku's question settled in. You were stunned for a moment, the truth of the situation hanging heavily on your heart. Of course, you realized, Izuku's hybrid senses would pick up the scent left behind by Katsuki last night. How could you forget?

Scratches, cum, and pheromones laid on you the night before when Katsuki sensed Izuku's touch from when he thanked you during training. His possessiveness in the bath had been clear, his words a promise of violence should Izuku dare to lay a hand on you again.

A knot formed in the pit of your stomach as embarrassment filled your voice, intertwining with a shard of defiance. "I...uh...had a bit of a disagreement with my room mate last night," you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "But it's nothing to worry about, really."

Your admission threatened to tip the scales of the delicate equilibrium. Whether or not you were fully aware, the territorial boundaries have already been drawn between the territorial tiger and the love-mad hare. The situation a powder keg waiting to ignite, and Izuku the bastard he is, was going to make sure it blew up in the face of this “room mate” of yours.

Izuku's large hands swiftly found their place on your hips, his touch firm yet careful. In one fluid motion, he effortlessly lifted you clean off your feet and placed you onto the island counter. The contrast in your heights is stark, you find yourself still having to tilt your chin to look up in shock at Izuku. His long ears twitched with barely restrained irritation.

As Izuku's nose scrunched involuntarily, a mix of emotions surged within him. The scent of Katsuki, with its notes of cayenne, brown caramel, and smoldering embers, emanated from you like a provocative challenge even without a claim on your neck. To Izuku, it reeked like burnt sugar, an acrid aroma that didn't deserve a place within the confines of his shops.

His possessive instincts kicked into overdrive, an unwavering determination surging through his veins. He leaned down, his breath warm against the soft skin of your neck, his voice dropping to a low, firm tone. "You know," he began, his voice carrying a velvety cadence. "we can't have you smelling like that. It doesn't suit you, and it definitely doesn't suit this cafe."

“After all, who wants to eat in a smoky bakery?” Izuku finished as he knelt with calculated grace, his strong, muscular frame shifting closer to your exposed thighs. As he positioned himself between your parted legs, Izuku's eyes lock onto yours. In the short time you've known him, Izuku's eyes have never seemed this intense, brimming with an unwavering determination to claim you as his, to erase any trace of Katsuki's scent and replace it with his own. Your breath hitched softly, eyes widening at the audacity of Izuku's actions. Looking down at the fierce Flemish Giant between your thighs, you weren't sure you really wanted him to stop, consequences be damned.

Leaning back against the cold counter top, you let out a soft gasp as Izuku's lips met the inside of your knee. The contrast between the cool stone and the warmth of his mouth adds to the growing pleasure that courses through your body.

As Izuku's lips continued their path up your thigh, he deftly moved your cute underwear down your trembling legs. a shiver ran down your spine as the cold morning air kissed your exposed folds. The delicate material glided lower, clinging momentarily to your thighs before slipping over your uniform shoes.

Izuku's emerald eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he took a moment to appreciate the shade of green of the fabric. You're already wearing his color, he couldn't have planned it better himself. With a small grin against your soft skin, he quickly tucked your panties into his pocket, claiming another piece of you for himself while he distracted you with kisses and nips along your thigh.

Izuku's chuckle had a dark edge to it, tinged with an unmistakable sense of triumph as Katsuki's scent gradually began to dissipate. Your slick hole starting to carry the familiar fragrance of your usual jasmine, proof of Izuku's determined assertion of dominance over any traces of his new rival's presence.

With a deliberate and confident movement, Izuku pushed the bottom of your thighs up, hooking your ankles over his broad shoulders and positioning himself between your legs. His biceps barely flexed as his large tan hands gently scooted your hips closer to the edge of the counter, granting him better access to your tantalizingly wet pussy. The shadowy figures of your bodies blended together in the dark kitchen, the only source of light being the faint glow of the dark pink sunrise streaming through the skylight above. The faint rays of the sunrise dance across Izuku's face, highlighting his handsome features and the determination in his emerald green eyes.

Izuku's lips found their way to your tender slit, his tongue gently flicking and teasing your hooded pearl. The expert motions and the expert blend of pleasure and pressure elicited from his mouth heightened the sensations coursing through your body, intensifying your pleasure with each passing moment. Your taste was intoxicating to him, driving his desire further, as if he can't get enough.

Then again, he always did have a sweet tooth.

As his tongue hungrily slipped inside your aching cunt, suddenly the weight of Izuku's actions broke through the sleepy haze. Your mind flashed back to the conversation you had with Katsuki the night before, a warning that now echoed in your head. The realization hit you like a ton of bricks, "My room mate is gonna be pissed.” You groaned into your hands. The memory of Katsuki's threat looms in the back of your mind, a promise of violence should Izuku dare to lay a hand on you again.

Izuku lifted his gaze, a mischievous grin spreading across slick lips, as he locked eyes with you. His rabbit ears moved, playfully expressing his amusement. "Oh? And what is your room mate gonna do?" he retorted, a playful challenge in his voice. Without a hint of hesitation, he dives back down, his lips and tongue resuming their intoxicating dance against your sensitive folds and clit . He seemed completely unfazed by the threat, his confidence unyielding, a trait born of his secret life.

Even though the haze of pleasure, you hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether you should reveal the full extent of Katsuki's threat. Reluctantly, you gave in, letting the words slip out before your pleasure-addled brain could catch up. "He said he was gonna 'put you in the ground'," you admitted, lust thick voice tinged with a hint of unease.

Izuku's grip on your hips tightened, his possessive desire flaring again within him. The threat of violence from Katsuki barely registers as a deterrent. With a sinister glimmer in his eyes, Izuku responded, his voice laced with barely-contained excitement. "Is that so?" he murmured darkly, relishing the challenge "Let him try, I don't see a claim on your pretty neck." Without wasting another moment, Izuku went back to work, his mouth and tongue working diligently to replace any remnant of Katsuki's presence.

Feeling a sudden surge of mixed emotions—fear, excitement, desire—your hands had a mind of their own as they reached down lightly grazing over the soft, velvety texture of Izuku's rabbit ears. They quivered beneath your touch, responding to your exploration with an almost eager sensitivity.

As your fingers tangled in his forest green locks, you felt the warmth of Izuku's growl vibrating against your sensitive pussy, an intimate sound that resonated deep within you. The way his growl reverberated against your heated core sent shivers down your spine, making your swollen clit ache with need.

Izuku's mouth continued its relentless assault on your dripping cunt, his agile tongue expertly explored every hidden crevice, every secret fold, as if he was committing your every contour to memory. Each breathless moan that escaped your lips fueled Izuku's frenzy further.

For a moment, the tension in the air feels electric, a heightened awareness of the forbidden nature of your encounter. Despite the threat hanging over Izuku's head, he had explosive pleasure coursing through your body, casting an intoxicating spell over both of you. It's a dangerous game you've walked into, driven by the irresistible magnetism that seems to resonate between you and the hybrids in your life. The world around you seemed to fade away, the though of any brewing storm quickly silenced by the chorus of your erratic breaths and the wet sounds of Izuku's devouring lips.

With each passing moment, Izuku's own arousal became more apparent, his throbbing erection pressing insistently against the fabric of his pants, boxers already growing slippery with precum. The sheer desire in his eyes lit up the dim space, reflecting the hunger growing inside, as his tongue continued its wicked exploration.

As the sensations kept building, Izuku's nibbles along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs grew insistent, his teeth grazing your tender folds with just the right amount of pressure to send waves of tingling pleasure coursing through your veins. Each nip sends surges of electricity shooting up your spine, heightening your already stimulated state.

With a final, gentle nip, Izuku's attention returned to your swollen clit, his talented mouth engulfing it entirely, his tongue milking the pleasure from your body with a hunger born of his obsessive adoration.

The cold surface of the kitchen counter beneath you contrasted sharply with the scorching heat that consumed your being. It further intensified the sensations, making your body arch uncontrollably, craving more of Izuku's skilled tongue and the delicious friction against your dripping slit. As Izuku continued his tantalizing assault, a whirlwind of pleasure tore through you. Every touch, every lick, is electrifying, driving you to the edge of sanity and euphoria.

Your body responded instinctively to Izuku's ministrations, muscles tightening, drawing you closer to the precipice of your first orgasm. The familiar coil of ecstasy grew within, winding tighter with each flick of his tongue and gentle suction against your throbbing clit.

And then it happened—your climax hit you with an intensity that knocked the air out of your lungs. It crashed over you like a tidal wave, shattering any composure you still had and leaving you breathless and trembling. Your body quaked, as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you, drowning out rational thought.

As the echoes of your orgasm still shook you, Izuku didn't let up. His mouth continued to work its magic, prolonging the throes of your pleasure, drawing out every last drop of intoxication from your trembling body. The sensations are almost too much to bear, your mind spiraling in a haze of ecstasy as he licked you dry.

“Do I still reek?” Voice trembling, as you questioned whether the lingering scent of burnt caramel still clung to the air. But Izuku, always perceptive, noted the shift in your aroma, the return of your usual sweet jasmine-like scent. A return that happened a little too quickly for his oral fixation, to be quite honest.

A devious gleam danced in Izuku's emerald eyes as he listened to your words. He leaned back slightly on his knees, his chest rising and falling with his own ragged breaths. "Oh. Sorry, you still smell burnt," he lied with ease, a feigned apologetic smile playing at the corners of his lips. In this moment, he reveled in the idea of indulging his sweet tooth on the object of his obsession- You.

What was another white lie in the grand scheme of things?

Before you could respond, overcome with desire, Izuku plunged back down between your trembling thighs. The sudden latch to your swollen bead caused you to buck against the cold counter, your fingers instinctively tightening around the curls at the base of Izuku's rabbit ears, holding on for dear life. A sharp twinge of over-sensitivity mingles with the persistent pleasure, adding another layer to the overwhelming sensations.

Nose pressed against your mound, Izuku's tongue delved deep, searching for every trace of their intoxicating cum. His mouth moved with a fevered rhythm, his ministrations calculated and purposeful. His tongue speared through your slick folds, flicking and teasing as if he planned to consume every intimate drop. He couldn't get enough of your taste.

Meanwhile, your body danced on the edge of ecstasy once again. The contrasting sensations of pleasure and sensitivity, sent electric currents shooting through every nerve. With each movement of Izuku's skilled tongue, your hips involuntarily bucked and writhed, seeking more of that delicious contact.

As you came a second time, a loud cry escaped your lips, reverberating through the dimly lit space. The intensity of the sensation threatened to overwhelm you, nerves tingling with each tantalizing touch of his skilled tongue.

Izuku's own desire burned hot within him, waiting to be unleashed. Amidst your writhing against his face, Izuku's hips involuntarily jerked forward, another surge of precum staining his boxers. The feeling of the slick fabric against the head of his dick only served to increase his hunger for you.

As your thighs instinctively attempted to clamp shut around Izuku's head in a desperate bid to shield your oversensitive clit, his arms flexed, exerting a near herculean strength to keep them in place. With your back arched and thighs trembling in his hands, you were entirely at Izuku's mercy. It was just easier to surrender to the Flemish Giant's powerful hold rather than fight his iron grip.

Izuku's movements remained unyielding, a relentless pace that threatened to push you past the limits of pleasure and into the realm of cumdrunk ecstasy. In all honesty however, Izuku's own need fueled his actions, his tongue dancing deftly, exploring every hidden crevice with fervor. Maybe he was the cumdrunk one at this point.

“T-too sensitive 'Zuku” your plea for him to let up fell on deaf ears as Izuku wickedly ignored your words, except for the cute way you whimpered his name. Izuku could listen to you stuttering his first name in pleasure for the rest of his life. He took pleasure in pushing you to your limits, eager to indulge in his own selfish desires without hesitation. He had waited so long for this moment, he was going to get his fill. Or at least enough to satiate him while he made his claim.

"You can handle cumming for me again," Izuku insisted, his voice filled with dark adoration as he denied you mercy, before plunging back between your folds. Fuck, he loved you clamping down on his tongue like this, he only hoped you could handle all of him.

Your body quivered in response, overwhelmed by the heightened sensitivity of the onslaught on your swollen clit. Izuku's unwavering focus and iron grip left no room for escape or mercy. His tongue pressed skillfully, teasing and taunting your most sensitive spots, delving in with fervor and purpose. The taste of you, the intoxicating flavor that mingled with your heavenly musk, is like a drug to him, an addiction that drove him deeper into his feral desires.

Your body squirmed uncontrollably, overcome by the unbearable pleasure Izuku exerted on you. Every gentle nip and forceful suck sends you writhing. In desperation, your hands find solace in reaching the base of Izuku's rabbit ears, gently tugging with an almost desperate plea. Too much..!

But far from slowing down Izuku, the sensations of your tender grip on his ears only served to fuel his primal instincts. It's as if the touch of your shaky hands ignited a feral fire within him, intensifying the frenzied pace of his ministrations. His own need reached a fever pitch, his tongue dancing with an even more voracious appetite, ravishing every inch of your cunt.

Your body reacted uncontrollably to the overwhelming sensations, saliva escaping your lips as you moaned and whimpered in a haze of pleasure. Your legs twitching and trembling, but Izuku's firm grip prevented you from dislodging him, keeping you at his mercy.

The sound of Izuku eating out your soaked cunt echoed within the otherwise empty café kitchen, the lewd noises amplified by the decorated tiles. Your grip on the base of Izuku's furry ears tightened, desperation evident as you sought an anchor to ground herself amidst the waves of pleasure forced on you.

Driven by his feral determination, Izuku continued to devour you with a relentless pace. His imposing length now popping up and over the band of his slick boxers, yearned for release. As your squirms and whimpers grew more unrestrained, your body teetered on the edge of a precipice, ready to crash to a blinding climax.

As Izuku forced a third orgasm from your bullied clit, your vision faded into a hazy whiteness, the sheer intensity of the pleasure causing your consciousness to spiral into a realm of overwhelming ecstasy. Your mind became consumed by a kaleidoscope of sensations, blurring the boundaries of pleasure and reality. Your entire being is overwhelmed by the whiteout, a surge of ecstasy that drowns out all other thoughts and sensations.

You remained lost in your own world of ecstasy, mind blissfully blank by the overwhelming pleasure that coursed through your veins. In the midst of the pleasure-induced haze, you barely registered Izuku standing to his full height pushing 7 feet, his uniform khakis and boxers shifted low on his chiseled hips. His imposing figure cast a shadow over your flushed form. He reveled in the sight of your face caught in the throes of your cumdrunk daze, body trembling and clearly craving further gratification.

Who was he to deny you?

With another shift of fabric, Izuku's thick cock sprung forth, liberated from its confines, hardened and throbbing. His erection stood tall despite it's weight, demanding attention, the embodiment of Izuku's primal nature. Flemish Giants are big in, well, every way. If your mind wasn't completely blank right now, you'd probably be worried about how the monstrous girth could fit in you. A concern Izuku clearly didn't have.

With an unquenchable desire driving him, Izuku moved between your quivering thighs, positioning himself to align with your sopping entrance still twitching from your last orgasm. The immense size of his swollen cock head presented a challenge for your tight and unprepared opening. Your poor pussy's struggle to accommodate Izuku's massive girth sent shockwaves through both of your bodies, setting the stage for the battle between resistance and persistence. Don't worry, he'll make sure he fits.

The first few frantic and desperate tries by Izuku only drew a frustrated growl from the large hybrid. Your body strained to accommodate the overwhelming size of Izuku's cock, your senses overloaded with both pleasure and over sensitivity. But with a slick pop, the tip of Izuku's engorged member finally breached your entrance, forcing its way inside.

You remained blissfully lost in a euphoric haze, your body intertwined with Izuku's as he leaned over you. The cafe's dim lighting from the sunrise cast gentle shadows across the kitchen, highlighting Izuku's disheveled green curls and the captivating glow of his emerald eyes, resembling one of the rabbits forged from swirling shadows on the mural that adorns the wall.

Leaning over you, Izuku's dominant side asserts itself, swiftly pressing your knees up towards your shoulders. Applying pressure to open them wider, he exposed every inch of your quivering slit spread tight around the head of his dick. With a growl of determination, Izuku bullied his way further inside your depths, his larger size causing a twinge of pain as he stretched you to your limit to accommodate him. Your body struggled with the difference between him and Katsuki.

The sheer size of Izuku's cock, larger than even your room mate's, brings a mixture of pleasure and ache to your sensitized cunt. While Katsuki's barbs had their own unique sting, the contrast in size between him and the rabbit currently using you like a fucktoy induced new levels of soreness and bliss.

Izuku thinks he may have found heaven when he finally breaks in your pussy enough for his monstrous dick to bottom out against your cervix. Undeterred by your cunt's struggle, Izuku sets a rapid rabbit pace, his thrusts forceful and demanding.

The sound of their intertwining bodies filled the room, the wet slapping of Izuku's balls against your ass creating a rhythm that added to the sound of their escalating pleasure. Despite the stinging stretch, you remained freely vocal, too lost in your bliss to be concerned about anything else. Izuku's moans and your cries filled the air, adding to the sinful symphony.

As Izuku's large muscles flexed, his grip on the counter edge on either side of your head tightened, seeking leverage to thrust even more deeply. His forearms came to rest on the cold surface. Your knees were pinned again Izuku's chest, as each of his motions rocked your body forcefully against the stone counter of the kitchen island.

As Izuku continued his relentless pace, his large muscles flexing with each powerful thrust, his emerald eyes shone with feral bliss. Soft forest green ears were pinned back against his curls, a clear sign of his animalistic desire taking hold. Noticing your slightly pained fucked-out expression, Izuku found a sort of sadistic glee in your reactions. He couldn't help but revel in the sense of superiority it gave him.

No fucking way that crispy room mate of yours has ever filled you like this before.

"Aw, am I too big? Does it sting?" Izuku crooned huskily in your ear, voice filled with a twisted sense of satisfaction. "Fuck..! Taking me like such a good little pet- I knew you could handle it.” Even if his love is tainted by selfish obsession, he takes genuine pride in your resilience. Not everyone could take his bitch breaking girth the first time. Or at all.

You could only offer a weak nod in response to what little you catch of his words. Your walls clung to his thick length, the stretch more than you've ever experienced before. Yet, your blissed-out state allowed you to push through the discomfort of having your guts rearranged, exchanging it for a facet of ecstasy that only Izuku could provide. You were intoxicated.

The grip of your walls around his pulsing member further fueled his desire, his relentless pace never faltering. Your pussy clung desperately to his too thick cock, the force of each slam eliciting a a ragged gasp as he bottomed out against your cervix. His intense gaze locks onto your dilated eyes, drinking in every nuance of your cumdrunk expressions as you submitted to him completely.

For Izuku, this moment is the culmination of his desires since the moment you were hired at one of his coffee shops. His obsessive desire for you have driven him to go to great lengths, even "hiring" himself as a barista to get close to you. Now, his darkest desires are being fulfilled, the mate he craves finally within his grasp.

Fuck, he wasn't going to last much longer with you looking past him all fucked-out like that.

Intense pleasure coursing through your veins, you were overcome by the sensory overload of cumming again. Saliva escaped your parted lips, a shiny trail down the side of your chin. Your moans and whimpers intermingled with the wet, lewd sounds of your boss' thrusts into you, heavy balls accentuating squelches with quick slaps against your ass. Your gushing cunt walls attempted to tighten around Izuku's massive member with some success as you reached one last mind shattering orgasm. Your trembling pussy clamped down as best it could, Izuku thrusting all the while.

As he reached his own tipping point, Izuku's rabbit ears stood straight up, a visible sign of his peaking pleasure. “S-shit” He whined, your tight cunt was strangling his cock, causing his foot to bounce uncontrollably as he thrust as fast as possible. Each slam was met with the rhythmic spasming of your walls, clenching onto his too thick length with a desperate intensity. The sensation of your pussy clinging to his dick on every exiting pull, and the feel of his mushroom tip slamming against your cervix, was too much for Izuku. Driven by his unbridled desire, Izuku maintained his rabbit-like pace until the end, unable to resist the sweet agony of the tight vice that surrounded him.

With a deep groan of satisfaction, Izuku succumbed to the milking motion of your tight ring of muscles. The tip of his cock became engorged and sensitive, the pressure pushing him over the edge, the slit gushing forth with his warm cum. Pumping spurt after spurt, Izuku filled your womb with his seed, the pulsing sensation mixing with the raw pleasure that coursed through you both. One of his fuzzy ears cocked to the side, a visual display of the euphoria that engulfed him.

As with most rabbit hybrids, Izuku momentarily leaned all his weight on your pinned legs and his forearms, his body collapsing with the intensity of his climax. Your cunt walls stretched tight around his member still milked and clenched, coaxing every drop of his essence from within him. Overwhelmed by the influx of cum you could only moan brokenly in bliss, your consciousness long faded away during your last orgasm.

In the aftermath of your shared climax, Izuku remained trembling and breathless over your spent body, his emerald eyes still gleaming with a primal intensity, as he nuzzled your hair. The cafe was filled with the scent of your combined arousal, a poignant reminder of the powerful connection. A perfect mix of pine needles, yuzu zest and jasmine blossoms in the smug Izuku's opinion.

Much better than that burnt sugar bastard's stench.

Izuku needs a few tries to withdraw from your clasping cunt, before the head of his dick pops free of your pubic ridge with a final jerk of his hips. He hissed in oversensitive pleasure at the sensation of pulling free of your quim. Geez, were all humans this small on the inside? He wondered as his cum began to gush out of you. Izuku's viscous seed quickly flowed down your folds, trailing onto the cold counter top before beginning to drip onto the floor. He could definitely get used to that image. “You should get some rest” Izuku smugly beamed down at you before planting a soft kiss on your forehead, your lids heavy with fatigue. You could hardly fight the chemicals, both natural and otherwise at this point, from pulling you into slumber, and soon you lost the battle. He smiled as he heard your breathing even out, asleep.

Izuku's tea, and it's added ingredient, had taken longer to take effect than he expected. When he saw how exhausted you were, he had just intended for you to nap through your shift. Cuddle with your unconscious form under a cozy blanket in the autumn afternoon during his lunch hour, maybe. Izuku was so glad he'd been given enough time make you cry his name so prettily before you slipped into sleep.

In comparison to this morning, you looked so serene and relaxed, even after your intense encounter. Izuku leaned over you, his forearms resting on the cold stone, nuzzling your hair tenderly. His nose twitched, catching your mingled scents again, making his rabbit ears flick with delight. Izuku, hidden behind his gentle facade once again, wished he had “hired” himself sooner. He could have felt you shuddering around him months ago, but he vowed to make up for lost time now that you were already spreading yourself for him on his kitchen counter.

With gentle care, Izuku's muscular frame picked up your sleeping body from the kitchen counter. He cradled in his arms with a protective tenderness, mindful not to jostle you from slumber. He carried down the hall to the employee room across from the office, where a comfy jade couch awaited, a place for you to rest while he tended to the café.

As Izuku lay you down on the couch, your sleepy form stirred and before turning over with a yawn. Izuku would have stayed there, with his forehead against yours, all day. However, as the sunrise streamed through the kitchen skylight, Izuku became aware of just how late in the morning it was. With the sun coming up, he only had a few minutes until the coffee shop opened. He watched over you for a moment more, ensuring you were comfortably tucked into a cushy blanket, before he turned his attention to the café.

After all, as the owner of the 'Lunar Rabbit' chain, Izuku had responsibilities to fulfill.

Izuku is gonna be mad when he realizes he left the pastries in the oven, but raspberry croutons are a small price to pay in the long run.

Comments and Reblogs make a difference!

2K notes · View notes

wildestdreamsblog · 4 months

Text

Latibule Season 2: I

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Mafia/Detective AU)

Summary: In which he lost his latibule.

Warnings: Secret Identity, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: In the spirit of Christmas hehe

Masterlist, Prologue

He didn’t believe that you were gone no matter what anyone said.

Everyone was saying the same thing. You were gone and there was nothing anyone could do to bring you back. However, Min Yoongi didn’t like their answer and anyone who said that you had already passed on from this earth was met with his wrath that was communicated through his fists and weapons. No one could even tell him that he now couldn’t physically follow where you were. In his twisted mind, he thought that he could follow you because you never left this earth. Of course, he could follow. You did promise, after all, that you would never go somewhere where he couldn’t fucking follow. His angel would never lie to him, he thought. But your absence was saying otherwise. Your absence was too loud.

The days following the moment he opened his eyes and learned of your demise were bloody and dark. Everyone was on edge, and the traitors went to hell here on earth. They did wish they had died instead, but death was never quick when it came to them, nor was it painless. Min Yoongi made sure that they felt every ounce of pain he felt when you were taken away from him. His brothers could not even reason with the man. They didn’t know how to handle this Min Yoongi. It was as though he died there with you, and what was left of him was only his darkness. Agustd was already ruthless, but now he was just outright cruel, burning everything and everyone that crossed his path.

No one could even say their piece to him-well, all except Kim Seokjin. Despite Jin choosing the less violent life and despite him spending his days treating people in the hospital, no one could deny the power he naturally excluded. It was the power that was inherent to him when he was unfortunate enough to be born to a father that was the previous mafia king. Kim Seokjin may possessed the face of an angel, but he was the most dangerous of them all. It was just that he had a patience of a saint, and everyone fret the day someone snapped his patience. He was a dangerous, eccentric man. And he was a ticking time bomb in comparison to Taehyung who just kept on exploding without an end in sight. Min Yoongi, though, was known to be a reasonable man, his calm nature was never broken. It took losing you to break the calmness in him. The days after he woke up, he was seen back where he was the happiest. Day after day, Yoongi could be found there, leaning against the tree with cigarette in between his lips as he looked at the ruins of your house. The fire took everything from him. It was angry as it smoldered what once was his latibule to the ground, leaving nothing but ashes in its wake. Yoongi thought that the world was simply too cruel to him to strip away the only place he had of you. He couldn’t even smell you anymore, couldn’t even go to the place that was full of your presence.

How cruel was it to have you once and never again? How cruel was it for him to finally have found the warmth, to finally have basked in it for a moment too short, only for him to live in a winter forever after you? He would never admit to anyone that each time he closed his eyes, the only thing he saw was the moment you fell as the bullet pierced your skin. So, he had not been sleeping well. If you were here, he thought, you would chase away all the demons in his head. If you were here, you would put your arms around him, rub your hands on his shoulder in a soothing way only you knew how, and you would silently tell him that everything would be okay, that he wasn’t as bad as he thought he was. Yoongi couldn’t do anything. All he did was to go to the place where he found and lost you.

He was always there, Jimin noted. He made this place your temple, mural and shrine. However, never once did he visit where you were finally laid to rest. Never once did he even acknowledge your death. It was like not seeing it would make your death untrue. And so, day after day, hour after hour, the man could be found there as though he was waiting on a miracle, as though if he waited long enough then you would return, as though if he stayed long enough, you would walk back and smile at him, all while calling him a fool for looking too sad.

But you never did.

And after a whole year, Min Yoongi never uttered your name again.

---

“Y-you’re supposed to be the good one! W-what is the Chief of Police doing here?!”

Yoongi watched in boredom as Jungkook pushed a man to kneel in front of him. The warehouse was quiet, well, save for the screaming of the traitors. The other brothers were busy with torturing the remaining traitors they kept alive. And today, he was faced with the last remaining traitor they had yet to kill. See, this asshole was so below the rank that he didn’t know that the Chief of Police was also the same Agustd, the leader of the mafia.

He was nothing, Yoongi thought. And yet, he was the one who blew up your house. He could almost laugh if he still knew how. “T-the public will know! I’ll tell them that you’re the d-devil!”

Yoongi blew the smoke on his face emotionlessly, a strand of his dark hair falling on his face. “You’re not an intelligent man, are you?” he asked evenly before pulling the cigarette in between his lips and onto the idiot’s eyelid. He heeded his screams no mind as he removed his jacket with his badge on it. Someone from his right stepped in to carefully fold his jacket. Yoongi folded his sleeves to his elbows and without any warning, punched the man on his face.

The man proved to be an even greater fool as he laughed in false bravado, blood a stark contrast against his crooked teeth, “Is that all you can do? You don’t have it in you to kill. You’re a civil servant!”

“Is that so?” he asked in a conversational tone as he picked up a knife, putting it up over the light to inspect it before turning to the buffoon. “Which hand burned the house?”

“What?”

Yoongi looked at Jungkook and the latter manhandled the man near the table, flatting both his hand on it. “Which hand should I cut?” He walked nearer to them as though he had all the time in the world. “This one,” he stabbed the table, missing the man’s hand by a centimeter. “Or this one?” he repeated the action for the right hand, except that this time he intentionally stabbed the knife through his thumb, severely cutting it. “Oh no,” he said in a deadpanned voice before looking directly at him. “Guess my aim got bad.”

“W-who are y-you?!”

He smiled at him; his eyes remained emotionless. “Hi, I’m Agustd. Nice to meet you. So which hand?”

“N-No! No, please! I’ll give you what you want-“

Yoongi sighed, already losing his patience. “You do have to choose. We won’t stop until you only have one hand. Or do you want me to choose?”

“L-lef-“

Before the traitor could even finish sputtering what Yoongi deemed was bullshit, he buried the hilt of the knife into his hand. He didn’t even blink when he felt resistance from his bones, Yoongi merely kept on pushing, uncaring of the wailing man. He never stopped until he the knife finally touched the surface of the table.

And after that, he stabbed his hand again. He never ceased, not until the hand was completely mutilated. He never stopped, not even when the blood kept sputtering on his face from the man’s open wound, a stark contrast on his pale white complexion. He never stopped even when the man lost consciousness.

“He’s going to die, Yoongi,” Seokjin noted lightly from his seat. From outside looking in, he looked like a perfect image of peace, yet the hold he had on his phone was a telltale sign that he was far from pleased. He was not even phased by the violence around him, his focus merely on the whereabouts of his runaway sunshine. “I do not have the patience required to revive a dying man tonight.”

Yoongi paused, leering at the man who was slipping in and out of consciousness, before heeding his hyung’s statement. He did not want to test Jin’s patience tonight when it was apparent that he was barely holding on to his control.

He didn��t want to kill this man tonight. No. He planned on keeping him alive for years and years to come. He planned to give him hope, only for him to squash it away like he did his. As long as Yoongi shall live, then he shall suffer with him. As long as he was living in this fucked-up nightmare where you weren’t by his side, then so should he lived his very own crafted nightmare.

If he wasn’t happy, then why should anyone be?

---

“That phone looks like it wants to rest,” Jimin observed lightly as he and his hyung visited another crime scene that was definitely not because of them. It was three hours away from Seoul, the travel time giving him headache, similar to what Jimin was giving him. He watched as Yoongi ended the call before glaring at him.

“What about my phone, Jimin?”

“It looks like it wants to retire. Please, for the love of all that’s good, let me buy you a phone.”

“No.” It was the only thing he had of you.

“Whyyyyy do you love that phone so much, hyung? Our enemies would think our business is not doing good that you cannot even buy yourself a phone!”

Yoongi just shrugged his broad shoulders before walking out of the police line and through the busy market. He nodded at the policemen as they acknowledged him. His watchful eyes observed the chipper attitude of the marketgoers, chatting among themselves. He wondered how people could wake up this early and yet looked so alive. He hadn’t felt alive since that night. However, he thought that had you been here, it wouldn’t matter. Nothing would. He would wake up at an ungodly hour for you.

He could hear Jimin chatter beside him as they navigated their way out of the busy street when it happened. Until it all turned into a white noise when it happened.

When he saw you.

He halted his brisk walk, his eyes following as you walked away yet again from him.

For a brief moment, he believed your eyes met. For a brief moment, he felt his heart beat again. Yet, your eyes seemed to hold no recognition for him as it only passed through him. You didn’t even stop. It was as though he was merely a stranger.

On the other hand, he thought that you looked different, but he knew in his dead heart that it was you.

Or was it his mind finally crumbling on him, reveling on his insanity?

He blinked once and you were gone.

Jimin, suffice to say, was shocked as his hyung ran back. He never saw him moved that fast, uncaring of the people who he would runover from his haste. His dark coat trailed behind him as he moved, a touch of desperation evident, compelling Jimin to reluctantly trail after him. Yoongi forcefully cleared a path, parting the crowd with determined strides. His singular focus was on reaching you, leaving his mind devoid of any other thoughts.

It was you, he was sure. It was his angel.

He was almost sure.

But when he reached where he saw you last, you weren’t there.

Jimin was breathless when he finally reached his hyung who was looking around the crowd like a lost child. His hands were on his waist as his desperate eyes searched for…who, exactly?

“What happened, hyu-“

“It was her, Jimin-ah. I saw her.”

He blinked, following his hyung’s shifting gaze. “Who?”

“My angel. She’s alive."

Latibule 2.II

#bts fic #yandere bts #bts yandere #min yoongi fic #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x y/n #min yoongi x reader #yandere min yoongi #yandere agustd #yoongi x you #yandere yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi fic

817 notes · View notes

wordstome · 5 months

Text

Satyr!König Headcanons

Yesterday I was talking with the lovely @kneelingshadowsalome about her satyr König au, and boy, did we cook. Good morning Finland, it's time to take some hairy goat man cock! (Most of these are adapted from our DMs! Headcanons in bold are by Salome, with minor changes)

It's just König's luck, really, for him to finally get his hands on a pretty little nymph to fuck and fill with his potent seed and she runs off on him! And now he's certain that she's hiding from him, which has him absolutely fuming. If she's going to play this little game, he'll just have to hunt her down...

Meanwhile, she’s freaking out because her monthly blood is very, very late, and she suspects that awful satyr is to blame. All her little nymph friends are sympathetic, but they did warn her!

She may be sulking about her predicament, but part of her becomes wildly jealous when she sees her friends are "torturing" the poor satyr. Never even wanted to see that big hairy pervert again, but also doesn't want others to frolick around him even if he's chained to a tree!

The little nymph does end up feeling sorry for the man, so when it's nighttime and all her friends have scurried away, she creeps up to him quiet like a mouse to free him. Of course, she ends up getting a pounding for all her troubles...what did she expect?

He's not making the same mistake letting her go again! He makes good on his promise to lick her to completion, and then she just curls up and falls asleep...silly, silly thing. Giving him the perfect opportunity to scoop her up and whisk her to his lair. Her fellow nymph sisters wail and cry and demand her return, but König's not telling where he's keeping her squirreled away.

She's stomping mad about her new situation. Not only is she separated from her sisters and unable to live free and wild in the sunshine as she used to, but she and König are always bickering and arguing, ending up more often than not with him folding her into a mating press...

She's offended when he brings her fresh meat to eat, which of course confuses him. He had only meant to show how strong and competent of a provider he is, hunting for his woman, but his difficult little nymph has the nerve to turn her nose up at it and scold him. Doesn't he know nymphs only eat berries and flowers and other gifts that the earth gives to nourish them?

Of course she tries to break out of the dark woodland prison he's keeping her in, but the first time he catches her, he only gives her a terrible smirk and shows her the exit. She's welcome to leave, but he lives in the dark, deep part of the woods that the nymphs don't dare trespass in, where hungry wolves and other awful satyrs live...

Naturally, she would never risk being caught and taken to some other horny satyr's lair. At least here he gives some care to her wellbeing and all the attention a sulky little nature spirit could want...

He is trying, she supposes...he's stopped bringing her all that awful bloody meat to eat, he makes her a soft little bed of grasses and flowers to sleep on, and treats her like a fussy little princess. But she can't start growing fond of him...!

König, meanwhile, is on cloud nine with his pretty little nymph. she stays right where he wants her, always pouting and mewling for his attention, and only fusses a little bit when he warms his cock inside her. what more could a nasty satyr like him even want?

It becomes endearing, how well he provides all she asks for. Not that she's ever going to show her feelings to him of course. Just happens to twirl the hair on his chest around her fingers before she falls asleep on his lap...

Falling for this nasty old faun isn't what she signed up for when she straddled him that day. But she also can’t complain, because he is good with that tongue of his…

So good she can't even find it in herself to be mad when he pervs on her when she's resting and trying to get some sleep:

It’s nighttime when she’s woken up with a start. Probably just König back from a hunt, hopped up on adrenaline and ready to breed her again. But to her horror, it’s some other strange faun man, leering at her with dubious intent. Turns out there are downsides to making your little pet nymph scream with pleasure every night: namely, that the wrong person might hear...

Ordinarily, she would have no trouble fleeing or fighting back, but she’s just not used to the dark wood and hard packed dirt of this part of the forest, and finds herself frozen with terror as the stranger approaches her. He’s nowhere near König’s size, but that doesn’t mean he won’t be giving her a tough time.

Then she hears a very familiar roar, but this time it’s not of frustration or pleasure as she's used to hearing it, but raw anger, and she knows her satyr is back and very much not pleased to find an intruder menacing his little nymph. Nymphs are no lightweights when it comes to offensive magic in their arsenal, of course: König's already learned that the hard way. But they call him the king for a reason...his powers are a different ballpark entirely.

The intruder barely has time to beg for his life when König is summoning forth thick, thorny vines to ensnare him, causing the other satyr to holler in pain. The nymph knows what's about to come, and stuffs moss into her ears just as the sound of pan flutes fills the air. She watches in a mix of horror and intrigue as the intruder writhes and panics, tearing himself to shreds on the thorns...

It's over quickly, and the whole ordeal sends her trembling into her soft little bed of moss and grass. There's a brief period of time where she knows König is disposing of what's left of the intruder, and then she feels his gentle touch on her back.

She sniffles as she meets his adoring, half-crazed gaze. She knows she should be petrified of him, considering she just watched him drive another man to such madness that he ended his own life in the most painful manner possible. He's rubbed off on her in a terrible way, though, because all she can think of doing is spreading her pretty legs for him...

Haha anyway hope you guys enjoyed those headcanons! Maybe König's satyr madness will seize me again sometime and I'll write more :)

PS. The Greek god Pan, who is very notably depicted as a satyr, is known for two things that he lent his name to: pan pipes and the word panic. The origin story of the pan pipes is that he was chasing a nymph, who turned herself into reeds to escape him. He then proceeded to turn those reeds into an instrument he could put his lips all over....nasty!

#könig #könig x reader #konig #konig x reader #könig cod #konig cod #cod #call of duty #cod mw2 #mw2 #bucca that part at the end is just the plot of that one bit in fatum nos iungebit #it's a good idea what can I say! könig is possessive in every universe #kneelingshadowsalome #satyr!König

1K notes · View notes

ham1lton · 4 days

Text

─── WE CAN’T BE FRIENDS (WAIT FOR YOUR LOVE)

pairing: max verstappen x driver!reader

warnings: 18+ content - [oral f. receiving]. mentions of injuries. slight mention of cheating. toxic relationships. a lot of flashbacks, be prepared.

summary: you both grew up together as fellow drivers and the relationship always toed the line from friendship until something more. until a bad accident on the track damages your relationship beyond repair.

author’s note: remember this is an au so things may not be 100% accurate to real life events. don’t be surprised if anyone is acting ooc.

want to be updated when i post? join my taglist!

part one | part two | part three.

[ we can’t be friends / but i’d like to just pretend ]

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO.

sometimes you feel like the loneliest girl in the world.

you sit down on the damp grass and start to play around with the green strands as a means of distracting yourself.

as the only girl in your current group, the boys would barely want to co-exist with you. let alone spend precious play time entertaining someone like you.

this meant that a lot of the time, you were alone. when you told your father at nine years old, that you wanted to be a formula one driver one day, he patted your head and smiled benignly at you.

“you can do whatever you’d like kiddo. just be prepared for the weight that comes with it.”

the weight would never feel as heavy as it did when you were excluded from the group.

you’d already exhausted all your entertainment options. you looked across the field to see all the boys playing with each other, roughhousing and kicking a football about. you had finished your book, you hadn’t been allowed an ipod until you were at least sixteen as your mother had warned and now you were bored.

until someone came and sat next to you.

you look up to see a boy that you knew vaguely. the one that had just beat you to narrowly win the go karting race. he looks at you and smiles, sheepishly.

“is it okay if i sit here?”

you nod. you didn’t have the luxury to turn away company. his arm was bruised, as you look at the motley of blue and purple on his fair skin. he sees you looking and hides it, laughing awkwardly.

“it’s nothing. the guys are just rough. that’s why i’m here.”

“i’m y/n.”

“i know.” he says. when you look at him blankly. he stammers again. “i know, i know because we race together a lot. i’m max. i’m not a stalker. i don’t think so anyways.”

“i didn’t believe you were. i just didn’t think you’d know who i was.”

“you’re really good. i always have to keep a look out for the competition.”

“thanks.” it was something about his matter of fact statement that made the warmth spread through your body. if the best thought you were good, that had to mean something right? maybe the sacrifices were worth it.

“no problem.”

you didn’t say anything else after that, but you knew you’d found a kindred spirit within him. the loneliness didn’t seem so lonely when he was there.

SEVEN YEARS AGO.

“hey maneater.” a tall guy with dark hair leaned over and grinned boyishly at you. “saw that race, you were good.”

“i try.” you smile, chagrined. you hated parties. you hated clubs. you hated anything that put you in the path of men like this. the ones that were oily and greasy and would slip out of your grasp whenever you wanted them.

ever since you had started racing actual cars, and beating records that had been in place for years. the media had given you a nickname, ‘maneater’. max had laughed when he saw the news spread and when you jokingly tried to bite him, you both ignored the shiver that went through his body.

he had already started your dream. he had been a rookie driver for about a year when you still were working your way up. a small part of you resented him. was he simply the better driver or was he deemed so by everyone else?

max comes up to you, face flushed with laughter and alcohol as he he wraps an arm around your waist and buries his face in your neck.

“y/n. i’m tired.”

thankful for the distraction, you mouth a pretend apology to the random man and move your position to a more comfortable one. max always smelt the same, you couldn’t pinpoint the smell but it was always something so undeniably max that it took everything not to intertwine you both together.

“i did tell you to cool it with the drinks.”

“but i won. i deserve to celebrate.”

“sure you do.” you hum, stroking a hand through his slightly sweaty hair. “tomorrow you won’t think this is much of a celebration though.”

he turns up to look at you. eyes wide as he looks at you, as if he’s seeing you for the first time. you smile down at him.

“it’s always a celebration when you’re here.”

“is that so?”

he nods. settling his head down on your exposed thigh as your dress had slightly rode up.

“if you win more races, that’ll just give us an excuse to celebrate more huh?”

FOUR YEARS AGO.

you had finally made it. you were going to be a formula one driver. you had done every stage of celebratory measures. you cried in happiness for your baby self. you called all your family members up, you called your friends and you called max. max insisted on sending a massive bouquet of flowers and a cake around. even though now technically you’d be rivals, he said it wouldn’t change anything.

you swore it wouldn’t either.

SIX MONTHS AGO.

it had been at the abu dhabi grand prix when the incident happened. it started as how every race did. you arrived, you prepped for the race, you interacted with fans and followed whatever inane social media trend your team made you do. you did your pre-race rituals, and listened to your playlist.

the race shouldn’t have been too difficult. you were feeling confident. when you signed a little girl’s poster for you, it made you more excited to go out on the track and make history again.

when max gets competitive, he gets nasty. you knew that. you had always known that. so when you’re leading the race and a car comes hurtling towards you and causing a collision that sent your car spinning off the track, you had a sickly feeling in the pit of your stomach that it was him.

so after you woke up in hospital, as your parents spoke to the doctors. you went through your social media, seeing the crash splashed everywhere. it was trending on three social media sites. the photos of your unconscious body being wrangled from the car by paramedics had been posted by many big figures with prayers. for you.

(“ladies and gentlemen, this is a dark day for motorsport. our hearts go out to y/n and her family.”)

your father came in, his mouth set in a firm line. he looked at you and his eyes were sad.

“hey kiddo. you’re awake. i’m glad.” he smoothed some hair away from your face. you knew he was hiding something from you but you weren’t sure if you should press.“the doctor said you’re going to have to sit out this season. possibly the next too. the crash left you with too many internal injuries. you’re going to need more time to recover.”

you couldn’t move. you couldn’t breathe. you could only listen to the static of the small television in your room. the sound of your heartbeat and the sound of your dreams cracking in half.

“no.”

“no? honey, you can’t. the doctor won’t be able to sign you off.” your mother places a warm hand on yours. “i’m sorry but we need to focus on getting you better. you’re lucky you didn’t die.”

“if i can’t race, i might as well be dead.” you want to scream. to cry. to punch something. to punch someone. “no. you can’t stop me. i’ll drag myself in the seat if i have to.”

“your team has already signed you off honey.” your mother looks upset at your face. “they said to focus on getting stronger again. you’ll bounce back.”

“NO!” you screamed. “i’ve worked my whole life for this shit and he took it away from me? no. no! no, no, no, no.”

you start to sob. your whole body curls in on itself as tears flow uncontrollably down your cheeks. your parents attempt to console you but what use is it? you’ve lost your first love.

you don’t even notice max standing behind the door.

SIX YEARS AGO.

you find yourself in the awkward position of being max’s date at some charity gala. you find this demeaning but max says it’s a chance to get your name and face out there. interact with the higher ups or something along those lines. he very clearly didn’t acknowledge your introverted tendencies when he said that.

the dress that you bought, hangs loosely around your legs. it’s cinched in at your middle to give the illusion of an hourglass figure. your body has been hardened by all the workouts and you desperately needed a night to dress up. yet, when you get the wrong sort of attention, you start to regret it.

(“you haven’t gotten a boyfriend yet honey. are you not into guys?” your mother had asked one night, as she helped you peel vegetables. your mother had never been a tactful person, but still, you spit out the carrot piece that you had been chewing on in shock.

“no! i mean i am. i am. i’m just, i’m focusing on me.”)

the truth was that you were in love with your best friend and it could never happen. he had a girlfriend for starters, you were attempting to claw your way into a man’s club and you knew that meant you couldn’t date any of the guys without the media hyper focusing on it.

you could imagine all the headlines if you’d threw caution to the wind and dated max. they’d all go after you and not after him. you thought for a moment if you could handle it. you knew you couldn’t.

you wanted max but you doubted it was mutual. you wanted max but it’d never happen, it could never happen. as long as you wanted a career, you couldn’t have the guy.

he walks up to you, grinning as he turns to the bartender and orders your favourite.

“what are you smiling about?”

“nothing. just, happy you’re here.” he hands you your drink and clinks them together. “i missed you.”

“i’m here. i’m always here.”

“so? i miss you even when you’re here. i think about when you won’t be here and i get upset. i’m thinking of glueing us together.”

“wouldn’t be very helpful when we drive our cars.”

“we’ll figure something out.” he takes a sip of his glass. thinking to himself for a moment. you wish for a moment you can read his thoughts. is he thinking about you? about the dress in his favourite colour? the fact you hired a makeup artist for tonight? that you spent hours on your hair? is he thinking about her?

“wanna ditch?”

“huh?” you ask confused. “we can’t. you said that this was important.”

“i spoke to everyone worth speaking to.” he shrugs. “we can stay if you’d like.”

“no, no. let’s go.”

he smiles at you, eyes crinkly and you want to kiss him so badly but you don’t. you can’t.

you leave the room together. giggling like kids as you attempt to sneak out. no one notices, or if they do, they pretend not to. when he reaches for your hand, you wrap yours around it.

as a shy, precocious child, when max had effectively taken you under his wing, you’d do whatever he’d ask. even as an adult, you’d do the same. when he kissed you in his hotel room that night, you kissed him back.

“is this okay?” he whispers, as his hand was on the zipper on the back of your dress. you nod and kiss him again. he groans as you press yourself down on him.

you step out of your dress, as he plays with the waistband of your panties. he smooths his thumb against the exposed skin as you stand in front of him. he leans in and kisses your hip.

“is this for me?” he looks at your matching lingerie set. you don’t know what to say. it was to make you feel sexy but he’s doing that for you now with the way his eyes darken as they look at you.

“do you want it to be for you?” he nods and you grin. “it’s always for you.”

“lie down.”

“why?”

“i want to eat you out. lie down, please.”

something in the way he sounded in that moment made you immediately listen. he sounded desperate. desperate for you.

losing your virginity to the man you’re in love with was never in the plan, but as you lie against the pillows as his face sits between your legs, you don’t care. you almost sing for him as he goes down on you. he presses his ring finger and middle finger in slowly and you shake as your legs lock in on his head.

the aftershocks tremble through your body as he crawls up and kisses you. smoothing his free hand against your skin.

“what about your girlfriend?” he shoots you a side-eye.

“now you ask?” he grins as you giggle. “we’re not together anymore. i never thought she was really for me. i don’t know. i think i compare every girl to you.”

you freeze. he kisses you goodnight and falls asleep but how could you sleep knowing that?

a week later, they’re back together and you try to swallow the hot tears that threaten to show. you channel all the energy into the race and place higher than him.

deserved.

yet, it still doesn’t get rid of the pain in your stomach when he posts her on his instagram with the caption - “my greatest prize.”

#max verstappen x reader #jayde’s works ☆#max verstappen #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen imagine #mv33 x reader #mv33 #mv1 x reader #mv1 imagine #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula one imagine #formula 1

322 notes · View notes

cuubism · 4 months

Text

work is driving me fucking insane this week, so here's this silly self-indulgent thing i wrote to distract myself.

the spirit of this post is here as well XD

coffee shop au, meet cute, literally falling for your crush

In retrospect, forgetting to eat for three meals in a row wasn't Dream's best move. Not that he'd done it on purpose. Hence the forgetting. But taking time to cook always felt so wasteful when he was finally making progress on his novel. He could eat later, whenever the hyperfocus burned itself out.

The only thing that eventually got him out of the house was caffeine. He'd run out of both coffee and tea in the dysfunction of this week, and thus was forced to venture out to the cafe a few blocks away from his flat in search of enough energy to keep him awake for a few more hours.

Technically, there was a place that was closer. There was also a grocery store, where he could have bought coffee grounds. But Dream took the excuse to go a bit further, and not for the quality of the coffee.

He and Johanna, on the occasion she could convince Dream to leave the house and attempt to be part of society, had first started coming to this particular coffee shop because Johanna's girlfriend Rachel worked there. But Dream had to admit that what really kept him coming back, including at times when he wasn't being dragged along by Johanna, was another employee entirely.

Hob.

Hob was, in Rachel's words, "a perfectly nice guy but I don't know why you're so obsessed with him." In Johanna's words, Hob was, "quite fit, I can't lie, but I really thought you'd have gone for someone who's a bit more of an arts gremlin like you."

In Dream's words, Hob was perfect. He always had a smile for Dream, and a kind word or compliment, and he had kind eyes, and nice hands, and was terribly handsome. Dream had never been particularly attracted to masculinity before but Hob was proving him wrong over and over. He looked like he was strong enough to pick Dream up, and that did all sorts of exciting things to Dream's insides. Dream may or may not have had an actual dream about Hob holding his hand.

Hob also made terrible coffee. But Dream didn't care. He took whatever coffee Hob made him, whether the grounds were burnt, or it had way too much cream, or was vastly overbrewed, and drank it quite happily, sneaking looks at Hob all the while. Because Hob's coffee might be awful, but he always smiled at Dream as he gave it to him, and sometimes their hands brushed and it sent a thrilling little shock up Dream's arms. And anything Hob made for him felt made with love, he could tell, it was like a homemade birthday cake with uneven frosting and an undercooked part in the middle.

It was possible Dream should care more about the quality of the coffee and less about the symbolism of it.

In any case, he went to the coffee shop, underfed and undercaffeinated, hoping that Hob would be there, even if it meant he would have to down another cup of extremely bad coffee. Hob should be there, he did usually work Tuesday afternoons, not that Dream had memorized his schedule like a stalker or anything.

He stepped inside, the little bell over the door jingling, and found that he was right, Hob was there. A thrill of delight ran through him. Dream did not often feel anything as carefree or joyous as delight, but he was very sleep-deprived, and Hob was there, so there it was. Rachel was also working, and waved to him as he stepped up to the counter. As she and Johanna were both very aware of his embarrassing crush on Hob--much to Dream's chagrin--she didn't come over to take his order, instead leaving him to Hob.

"Hey, it's Dream, right?" said Hob, wiping off his hands on a towel and leaning on the counter, looking at Dream with a smile. He knows my name, Dream thought with a heady rush, then remembered that Hob was obligated to write it on his coffee cup, and that Dream came here often, and it didn't have to mean anything. "Dark roast with almond milk and caramel?"

How Hob could be so diligent about remembering his order and so terrible at making it, Dream didn't know. "That's correct," he said.

Behind Hob, Rachel mouthed keep going, which Dream took to mean that if he wanted to get anywhere he had to attempt to engage Hob in slightly more conversation than his usual coffee-ordering script. This was unfortunately true, particularly since Hob had already nullified half the sentences Dream would usually say by predicting his order.

"You remembered my order," he said, which felt like a reasonably normal response, definitely better than do you want to see if you can pick me up? which would probably be creepy. Rachel gave him a thumbs up.

"Of course. You're quite memorable," said Hob, and winked at him. Was he flirting? Dream would like to think so, but he wasn't usually very good at picking up on that sort of thing. Why would Hob be interested in him anyway? Perhaps he meant that Dream was memorable in a bad way, that he was annoying or weird, or--

Dream still hadn't responded.

"I am not trying to be," he said, and behind Hob, Rachel sighed. It was true, though. In most areas of life Dream preferred to go unnoticed. It was only Hob's attention that made him feel all bubbly inside.

"Task failed successfully," said Hob, "because I can't stop noticing you."

Was Dream... still succeeding at the conversation? That was truly unexpected, that he hadn't already turned Hob off by being utterly unsuitable for human society.

"Is that a good thing?" Dream asked.

"Is it?" asked Hob.

Undoubtedly it was. Dream liked the thought of Hob noticing him. He liked the thought of Hob remembering his name, and his coffee order, and when he came into the cafe, with as much detail as Dream had memorized his schedule. He did not normally like having people's eyes on him but he liked the thought of Hob looking. Of Hob caring about what he saw. It made him feel interesting and worthy, and sort of giddy and lightheaded--

Oh. No. That wasn't Hob's attention. That was the fact that the last meal he'd eaten had been a sleeve of biscuits for breakfast two days ago, and that he'd been on his feet for a long time, or what constituted a long time when one had only had a sleeve of biscuits two days ago to eat. And he hadn't slept, and he'd had quite an exciting few minutes just now, and apparently this all meant that his body had decided it needed to check out for a moment, thanks, goodbye.

Inconvenient timing, Dream thought, as everything went sort of spinny and blurry. He was making such progress! He really thought Hob might even like him, and falling on the ground was not going to help his case.

Inevitable now, though. The last thing he saw before he passed out was Hob's face, expression shifting from amusement to concern, and really, there were worse ways to go out.

He woke up not much later, or at least it felt like little time had passed, to find himself lying down on a couch in what seemed to be the cafe's back office, as best as his overtaxed mind could gather. And Hob was crouched beside him, looking at him worriedly, Rachel leaning over his shoulder, face likewise creased in concern.

Dream wondered how he had gotten to the couch. Had Hob carried him there? It was a pleasant thought, though he wished he could have experienced it in person.

"You know," said Hob, "there are easier ways to get out of talking to me than blacking out." The words were light, but he sounded genuinely stressed out about it.

Dream immediately felt bad. "I'm sorry."

Hob chucked him on the cheek, a light touch that felt fond. "Not what I meant. Are you okay?"

Dream carefully pushed himself up to sitting, Hob watching all the while, hands hovering over him but not touching. Dream sat up. His head didn't spin. "I am okay," he said.

"Probably didn't eat anything today, huh?" said Rachel. She didn't look quite as concerned as Hob did, she was used to Dream's habits. Meanwhile, for all Hob knew, Dream had a brain tumor and would imminently die.

"No," Dream admitted. "I was... occupied."

"Will you be okay here for a sec?" Hob asked, brow scrunching as if he truly thought Dream might just collapse again onto the floor without him. "I'll get you some water. Something to eat, too."

It was worth fainting in a public place, Dream thought, just to have Hob look at him with such care.

When Dream nodded, Hob hurried away to do just that.

Only now his crush was going to be one million times worse, and certainly not reciprocated, not after the scene he'd caused.

Beside him, Rachel was laughing, hiding it behind her hand.

"Is my suffering humorous to you?" Dream asked, but there was no heat in it, he was too busy looking after where Hob had disappeared.

"You should have seen it," she said. "He launched himself over the counter to catch you. Oh my god, I wish you could have witnessed it."

"Surely Hob would aid any customer in distress," Dream sniffed. But something turned over in his stomach, a little flutter of hope.

"Yeah but not literally vault the counter. It was terrific. I was worried he'd break a hip."

"I'm not that old," said Hob, coming back around the corner and crouching beside Dream again, water bottle and what looked like a chocolate muffin clasped in his hands.

Rachel was unrepentant. "You're lucky you didn't wind up on the floor, too."

"You caught me," said Dream, staring into Hob's eyes. He had such pretty eyes. Rich brown, like coffee with a dash of cream.

Dream might still be a bit lightheaded.

"Of course," said Hob, and uncapped the water, handing it to him. Dream took slow sips, realizing as he did that he hadn't drank any water all day. "I'm fond of you, you know. Can't let you hit your head on the floor."

Fond. Dream might faint again.

"Should I take you to hospital or something?" Hob asked, still so concerned it was making that floaty feeling bubble up again in Dream's chest.

"I will be fine here," he said.

"He just fell for you, that's all," said Rachel, and Dream glared at her. She just smiled back. "Swooned and everything."

"I did not swoon," Dream protested.

"You kind of did, actually," said Hob. "I've never seen someone just crumple so dramatically."

"Oh, have you seen many people faint, then?"

"No, but--"

"I'm going to man the till," said Rachel, patting Dream on the arm. "I don't think I want to be in the middle of this. Let me know if you want me to take you home, Dream." She winked at him. "Unless you'd rather Hob do it."

Johanna was never this meddlesome, Dream thought bitterly. She just made fun of him and left it at that.

Then he was alone with Hob, which was both an exciting and anxiety-inducing state of affairs. He clutched his water bottle for balance.

"Um. I got you this," said Hob, and handed him the muffin. "Made them this morning."

Dream was really quite hungry, so despite Hob's poor coffee record, he took a bite of the muffin.

And this was how he learned that Hob was utterly lacking in coffee-making skills because all his talent was in baking.

The chocolate was so rich, it tasted more like cake than a muffin. the chocolate chips melted on his tongue, and he had to force himself not to just immediately take another huge bite. He really was so hungry. Perhaps, now that he knew he could get such things here, he would have a reason to visit the cafe other than just Hob -- and a reason to eat breakfast, too.

"Good?" said Hob, and Dream nodded, licking the melted chocolate from his lips, and he didn't fail to notice Hob watching the movement of his tongue. Perhaps Johanna and Rachel were right, and it wasn't hopeless, even if Dream's best attempt at flirting back was collapsing onto the floor.

He did not know what possessed him then. Perhaps it was the chocolate. Perhaps it was the worry still lingering in Hob's warm eyes, or maybe he had just hit his head and forgotten about it. Either way, he leaned forward in his seat, and kissed Hob on the lips.

His lips were so soft. Just as Dream had dreamt they would be. Hob made a sound of surprise against Dream's mouth, and caught him by the arms so he wouldn't fall out of his chair. Which was a definite possibility, though now the lightheadedness was not caused by a calorie deficit but rather because he was kissing Hob.

Hob who was kissing him back, too. Softening against his mouth, licking the remaining chocolate from Dream's lips. Would Hob hug him, too? If he had already caught him? Dream had fantasized so much about being hugged by Hob.

Only one way to find out. He leaned into Hob's arms, and Hob caught him again, wrapping his arms around Dream's back. He was so warm, and strong. He was wonderful.

"It is a good thing," he said into Hob's shoulder.

"What is?"

"You noticing me."

Hob chuckled. The sound rumbled through Dream's chest. "It's not hard to do. I've been eyeing you for a while, you know. I always hoped you'd talk to me more."

"I am not very good at talking more," said Dream.

"I think I've got that now." Hob pulled back to look at him, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled. "Falling over is more your style."

"I only faint on occasion," Dream protested, which only seemed to amuse Hob more.

"Well. If talking is a bit tough, maybe we can go for a walk sometime?" He tucked a strand of Dream's hair behind his ear, and Dream shivered. Hob clocked it, too, and let his hand rest on the back of Dream's head, fingers curled in his hair as his gaze flicked to Dream's lips and back up. "Or. Something else?"

Dream thought something else might make him spontaneously combust. That might have to wait a bit, at least until he could cope with Hob looking at him like that without feeling like he was about to explode in a flurry of butterflies.

"A walk, if you will hold my hand," he said, and Hob smiled, and took his hand, and Dream learned that all dreams really could come true at once.

#this is SO silly #hob is literally the most average guy and dream is salivating with lust and completely ferally obsessed with him #it's mutual tho dream is literally a gremlin and hob is like 😍 wow he's beautiful he's like an angel #and then they lived happily ever after #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #my writing #sex scene between these two would be funny as fuck i think hob would touch dream once and he would come instantly and maybe also faint

511 notes · View notes

aloesarchives · 2 months

Text

Two for the Price of One (JJK Oneshot)

TW/Warnings: Profanity, NOT POLY SATOSUGU X READER, Fem Reader and She/Her pronouns, ANGST, Angst for Satoru and Reader, Bittersweet ending for Suguru and Reader, HIGHKEY MISCOMMUNICATION, Possible OOC Satoru, abandonment issues if you squint really hard, Reader slowly losing herself, Reader feeling depression/hopeless(implicit), Reader's has a healthy dynamic with her clan

Series: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Fem!Reader/Suguru Geto x Fem!Reader

AU: Canon

Pronouns: She/Her(Reader's clan has a unrealistic healthy and understanding relationship with her)

Word Count: 6.1k words

Summary: Gojo's lack of coping caused you to drift away and eventually depart after Suguru's defection from Jujutsu Society.

(A/N): I know it doesn't make sense and will make many frustrated with how dumb this is. I just wanted to write my emotions out with this one, okay? I know this wouldn't slide but I'm a sucker for these scenarios. Edit: Since I've been getting positive reactions from you guys, I decided to take out the cringe/unrealistic out of the warning/tws lists. I truly love and appreciate you, loves!❤️

[!!Semi-edited & Proofread!!! 2/8/2024 4:04pm CST]

It was hard on all of you.

More so for you and Satoru.

Ever since Geto’s massacre and defection, the higher-ups and Jujutsu society have been scrambling to get the chaos under control. Having a special grade user become a curse user was sounding red alarms as there was an immediate threat to present-day Jujutsu sorcery.

You knew something was up with Suguru. You did; your observation wouldn’t allow things to go unnoticed. It was a bit here and there, but never a significant concern. You tried coaxing him gradually to open up to you, but your efforts were fruitless. No bells were ringing until the post-Plasma Star Vessel incident. You felt the shift in Suguru’s aura; you noticed his lifeless stare—the growing dark circles around his eyes surrounding the tiny flicker of life left inside.

You tried being there for Suguru. You did anything and everything to accompany him and not leave him alone. It was selfish of you. To be desperate for your best friend to lean on you for support and not to go down a destructive path. You became even more worried when Haibara returned cold with a frustrated and traumatized Nanami. It was becoming more evident of Suguru’s deteriorating condition, you to confide in Shoko and even Yaga-sensei.

Grief is like love, a twisted parasitic curse. Even though a year has passed, your grief was a malevolent spirit that latched itself onto your shoulders with a vice grip. A bitter reminder of how Suguru never said goodbye to you. He technically did with Satoru. But it was more of him telling Satoru that he was severing ties with Jujutsu Society by questioning him with his newfound powers. All you got from Suguru was a simple letter Shoko gave you at your dorm. She was with you as you read it. Tear droplets stained the paper, words smeared, and became unreadable. Out of pure frustration, you ripped the paper in half—the tearing of paper cut through the sickening silence. Shoko hugged you as you sobbed in the aftermath. While you were mourning the loss of your friend and your lives together, you were also mourning your life after this would never be the same. It would only get worse from here.

Satoru is tossed onto multiple missions left and right, never catching a break.

And there was you, trying to return to your regular school life. Or how every day can it be now? One of your best friends just murdered an entire village and his parents, and the other one is overworking himself to the very bone. Shoko being there for you was a surprising one, but at the same time, it wasn’t. Given that she was the first one Suguru said goodbye to, she understood his actions.

The problem was trying to tell Satoru about it, but he would brush it off, saying that maybe it was the change in weather or sickness. When you tried to explain there was more to it, Satoru would wave his hand at you, saying,

“You’re overthinking too much, (Y/N)-chan! I’m sure Suguru is fine. We just have to give him some time.”

Though the tone was light-hearted, it provided no comfort. You know Satoru was suffering as well. Individuals process trauma differently, after all. You were seeing this first hand.

Satoru was overcompensating to the world of Jujutsu with his enlightenment, overworking himself and burying his pain through that charismatic mask he now dons. Suguru is the most common one: Insomnia, isolation, and depression. He slowly became a lifeless husk. On the other hand, you were coping by trying to move forward while acting like a rock for them. Despite the hard transition, you didn’t deny your trauma as you slowly worked to process and navigate through it. You had the support of Shoko, your teacher, and even your clan/family stepped in to support your mental health endeavors. They went as far as providing you with a therapist, who was also a sorcerer.

But you all were suffering in silence.

A year has passed since Suguru left, and you were getting by. You, Shoko, and Satoru would graduate in the third year and officially become Jujutsu Sorcerers. Yet, at this point, it felt more like only you and Shoko. Satoru still attended class and hung out, but missions mainly preoccupied his school life. He recently returned from Hokkaido, only to be sent out again. This time, however, it was somewhere in Western Europe. That’s on the other side of the world. It would only be for a week, but still. You wanted him to rest or take a break, as he never did– not since the incident.

He wouldn’t be leaving for another seven days, so you had enough time to be with him. Yet it was challenging because Satoru didn’t let up. The ravine he created kept opening, the distance stretching far and deep, pushing you away.

Just like Suguru.

You didn’t want to lose Satoru. You almost did, becoming a grim reminder of how much you cared for Satoru Suguru. To fall for your best friend was a betrayal. You didn’t mean it, but Satoru did things that made your heart warm and fluttered. Suguru was the first to catch on; he saw your crush a mile away. Confiding in Suguru about it, you found solace in his words– feeding into an enviable delusion.

Unbeknownst to you, Suguru's eyes were able to hide his longing for you as you rambled about Satoru and your latest hangout together. Suguru always thought you and Satoru had a special connection—your two powerful chemistry and how you bounce off each other. He presumed Satoru had mutual feelings, but nothing was said. Once he left, he knew you had his heart. There was no space for anyone else to fill it but you. And Suguru was more than willing to live with reality. If the girl who gave his life light is with his best friend, so be it. He would settle with the heartache as long as you were happy.

But you weren’t happy at all.

Over time, you started questioning whether the life of a Jujutsu Sorcerer was worth it. Yes, you were born into the world of Jujutsu, and it has been your whole life. But the last two years radically changed that. You were already exposed to this life's dangers and cruelty; prepare to face it head-on no matter what. Yet second thoughts became third thoughts. Then, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh. The more you challenge your initial mindset, the more doubts seep into its cracks.

Why should I continue when I am nothing more than a placeholder in this world?

How can I save everyone if I can’t save one person?

Where is the meaning in all of this if I’ll just die alone and be replaced and forgotten?

Was this endless cycle of Jujutsu Sorcery even worth it?

You wondered if Suguru shared the same thoughts to push him to his decision. Now, you don’t blame him for leaving at all. It was grime. It was depravity. It was futile. You only stayed because you had your clan. You had Yaga-sensei and Shoko. But most of all, you had Satoru to shoulder the burdens of the Jujutsu world.

That’s. . .what you thought. . .

You decided to go to Satoru’s dorm to check up on him. Maybe squeeze a hangout in there. Gently knocking, you hope he was there since you couldn’t sense him around the campus. There was faint shuffling on the other side, signaling he was. You softly call out to him as you knock again. Once opened, Satoru greeted you in his school uniform. You found it odd since he’d switched to his comfortable clothes after school hours.

“Hi, Toru! I just came by to see how you’re doing. The mochi store we always go to releases its seasonal flavors today! Why don’t you come with me? I heard one of your favorites returned, so I didn’t want you to miss it.”

“I appreciate the thought, (Y/N). But not today, I’m sorry.” Satoru said with a smile.

You couldn’t pinpoint his smile, tittering on, sad and strained. A tinge of uneasiness settled inside your heart, but you still wore your smile to not let it surface.

“C’mon, Toru! You don’t know if they will sell out today. Plus, the weather is great. I heard some festivals with food stands are opening up because of that. It wouldn’t hurt to go out just this once, Satoru.”

Satoru’s smile disappears at your insistence, replacing it with a fine line. His mood change didn’t sit well with you. You had previous attempts to get Satoru to care for himself. However, this is different from all your others because the band that holds your desperation began to wane itself thin. Your solid composure falters in bits. Your bright aura slowly dimmed as your now chapped lips twitched.

“Satoru, I know that you’re busy. Always on missions, meeting the higher-ups, your clan needing you more than ever, you have your hands tied. But it wouldn’t be too much just to enjoy yourself. Just come with me today before you go to Europe next week. It’s been a while since we hung out together.”

“Look (Y/N), I don’t really have time for this. I need to head out now, or it will get dark. Maybe another time–”

Then something inside of you snaps. You didn’t know whether it was your desperation or uneasiness, but assumed both because your facade crumbles to reveal your emotions.

“You always say later, Satoru, but never do! You haven’t taken a break in months! You’ve gotten paler, and your under-eyes are darker than before! You’re pushing yourself too hard and beginning to neglect yourself. Toru, Please! I’m worried about you! You know I can always help you–”

“For the love of God, (Y/N)! Can you STOP TALKING?! GOD, YOUR VOICE MAKES MY EARS BLEED! LIKE HELL YOU WOULD UNDERSTAND MY RESPONSIBILITIES!”

It was never your intention to snap. But the way Satoru was acting paralleled Suguru. Eat, sleep, and go on missions. It was always those three, the same ones Suguru was subjected to that became a factor in his defection. Satoru was caught in the vicious cycle that pushed Suguru over the edge.

On top of your crippling fear of Satoru sharing the same fate as Suguru, Déjà vu struck you. Desperation emerged from within as you didn’t want to lose him, breaking your resolve before him. Desperation was fear in another form.

You weren’t the only one to reach a breaking point. Satoru snapped as well and at you, of all people. You guessed it was from all the stress and emotions he bottled up that exploded there. What Satoru was experiencing was valid and understandable; you knew this. Yet to blow up at you was uncalled for as you made it clear you’re only helping. Your eyes sting as you feel the formation of tears ready themselves, biting the inside of your bottom lip to keep your voice from breaking.

“B-but. . .Satoru. . .I w-was only trying to–” You stuttered out, forcibly pushing out words to fill the silence.

“Help? You were trying to help, (Y/N)?”

Once saying that Satoru let out a sarcastic laughter that could be mistaken for madness. Horror took over your face. Pain-filled eyes were glossed over, showing your tears could spill at any moment. His laughter abruptly stopped, making it so quiet that only your staggered breathing could be heard. He meets his eyes with yours with the most disdain you have ever seen.

“Do you think you could help when you’re just dead weight? You thought you were on par with Suguru and me. Get that out of your stupid little head of yours (Y/N). You were never strong like us.”

“You don’t mean that, right, Satoru?” You said incredulity as you reached out for him. Only for your hand to freeze before him, not going any further. A chill flashed over you, adding to the aching that enveloped your soul.

Did he– Did he just use his infinity on you?

“Oh, but I do. Now, I need to be somewhere. Do yourself a favor, (Y/N), and don’t bother me with your weak presence.”

And before you knew it, Satoru was already gone. He had used his teleportation to get to where he was needed. Leaving you alone with the door to his dorm wide open. The sounds of the crickets took over. They were paired with your small sniffles, furiously wiping away your nonstop tears.

Were you weak to him?

Have you really been holding everyone back?

Were you that much of a nuisance to him?

Is this how Satoru really felt about you?

Has he always felt this way?

You never saw utter detest and contempt from Satoru. Your previous interactions had him irritated or annoyed, but never like this. This was the first time Satoru had blown up on you, let alone given you such a reaction. Before, you’d repeatedly remind him of your support and help. But it always ends the same way, pushing you away. After what happened, this will be the last time you’d do this for him.

You were once told that you can’t help someone if they aren’t reaching out for help. And this was a bitter example of it. Your efforts in having Satoru lean on you bore nothing. What’s the point in continuing this if nothing changes after multiple attempts?

You were tired, drained, and indifferent. Your tears keep falling as you enter your dorm, not even stopping as the sound of nature lulls you to sleep.

You let two days pass to let Satoru calm down and give him space. No interactions or anything to pass some time. You would try to contact him for the next four days after that. But your texts were left unanswered and on read. When you tried calling, your call went straight to voicemail. He blocked your phone number, too.

The weight of your doubts and Satoru’s words the other day are fueling your impulsivity. If Satoru called you weak and dead weight, other sorcerers would think so, too. If you become a thorn in their side, you’re doing them a favor by pulling yourself out for them. Even if Satoru didn’t mean it, you knew there was some truth to it because he kept his infinity up. You could never forget how his blue eyes lit through his pitch-dark glasses as he spoke down at you. Giving away that he was conscious and level-headed when he said those words.

You were losing the war against your intrusive mind. Your doubts and thoughts gradually solidified in your consciousness. In the course of time, they won and consumed your psyche.

If becoming a jujutsu sorcerer would get in the way of others, then being a sorcerer wasn’t for you.

With your last attempts to contact Satoru, you have made your decision. A day before Satoru departs for Europe, you decide to pay your clan head a visit. It was sudden and unannounced; nonetheless, they allowed an audience with you.

They let you speak your mind, allowing whatever you need to be released and run free without judgment. Thus, you confided in them about everything.

This was too much; all of it was too much for you to bear any longer. You couldn’t see yourself as a sorcerer any longer after dealing with what you had experienced. Every day was a battle for you, and you lost every single one. You admitted you didn’t have what’s left of you it in you to shoulder the responsibilities of the Jujutsu world. You didn’t want the life of a jujutsu sorcerer anymore. You wanted one of peace, not having to fight every day. To enjoy the rest of your days as a regular civilian.

Confiding also in missing Suguru dearly and how his departure left a hole in your heart that could never be healed. You weren’t strong enough to face the horrors and hardships anymore and wish to live a peaceful life.

Although your clan head was shocked at your confession, they were understanding and asked if this was something you truly wanted. An unwavering ‘Yes’ left you, and your clan head nodded. They gave you a choice: to go after graduation in a few weeks or leave now. If you leave now, they will deal with the rest as you finish the important schoolwork. It was just a waiting game with missions sprinkled throughout.

You could wait before leaving, but that’s wasting time. If you weren’t going to continue your life here, you might as well get a headstart now in your new one. You finalize your decision with the head. They said they would have some members pick up your stuff from your dorms tomorrow morning, but you said it wouldn’t be much. As you took your leave, you told them you would keep in touch with the clan.

“What are your plans for what happens next, (Y/N)?” They curiously asked with your back facing them.

“Hmm, I don’t know exactly. But I have an idea, (Clan Head’s Name). Thank you for everything that you’ve done.”

With a reassuring voice, you turn to respectfully bow before leaving their room. Though they never said it out loud, they saw how your eyes were soft, like tremendous pressure was relieved from your body.

Thinking about it as you leave the estate, you never mentioned your fight with Satoru. Though it wouldn’t change anything. That night, you packed your dorm in your suitcase. Only leave your bedsheets, a pillow, and a few desk appliances behind. Your closet and drawers were empty of any clothes you had. By 10 a.m. tomorrow, any trace left of you would be gone. As you write a letter to whoever finds it about your whereabouts, your thoughts return to Suguru. To playfully think he did the exact same thing before his defection.

You looked at your school uniform as it hung on your door. You contemplated taking it with you but decided against it. You wanted no strings left attached when you leave the world of Jujutsu Sorcery.

Morning came as you stared at the room you once called your own. The remainder of your things are packed in cardboard boxes for your clan members to get later. You glance back over to your desk as your school uniform is neatly folded on top of it. Your lips are graced with a sentimental smile as you close the door one last time.

As you walked along the campus, fleeting memories of your days here flooded your mind. You reminisced on the areas and places you spent your youth with your friends and classmates. Now you’re leaving Jujutsu Tech and the Jujutsu World forever. Never to come back. You get to the main entrance of the school.

Before taking another step, you sensed someone behind you.

“So you're leaving, too, (Y/N)?”

It was Shoko.

“Yeah. . . Shoko. I’m going. . .”

She blows out a large smoke cloud from her cigarette, giving you a blank look before sending you a smile.

“At least say goodbye to me. . .I don’t blame you for going. . .” Shoko adds as she holds out her arms. You chuckle at her gesture and give her a hug. By the slight firm grip you felt, she didn’t want you to go, but she couldn’t stop you either.

Once you break away from the hug, you remember something and fish out a folded paper in your bag. You handed it to Shoko, and she eyed it curiously.

“I was going to leave it in my dorm for someone to find, but I thought it would work better if I gave this to you if I ran into it on my way out. My clan is sending members to get the last of my things, so I won’t return to my dorm. Sorry I had to make you the messenger again, Shoko.” You bittersweetly said.

You find it ironic that your departure is similar to Suguru’s. Shoko is the first to see you two go while giving her a letter for the others to read. You laugh as you think this over.

Oh, how history repeats itself.

Shoko tucks away your letter before taking a drag from her smoke.

“Does he know about this?”

You knew she was referring to Satoru. You shook your head no, still have a small smile.

“No, unfortunately. Satoru and I got into a arg– disagreement a few days ago. I don’t know if he’s okay with me to begin with, as cowardly to say. The only ones that know are you and my clan head.”

She hums at your response before going for another drag.

“Your phone number still the same?”

“I don’t really plan on changing my phone number. Even if I do, I’ll text you the new number so you can give it to the others.”

“I see. . .See you around, (Y/N). Keep in touch, will ya?”

“I will. I’ll see you around then. Bye, Shoko.”

Giving Shoko one last hug, you wave goodbye as you leave Jujutsu’s High entrance, disappearing from view. Not daring to look back because regret might come if you did.

Shoko watches from afar, her cigarette being halfway done. She takes one last puff before extinguishing it with the bottom of her shoe. She looks at your letter. The paper was crisp with no wrinkles like it had been fresh from the printer. From this, Shoko knew you had written it recently, no hesitation evident on the page itself. Unlike Suguru’s, her fingers tighten on your letter as she sighs while entering the school.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

“What brings you here? He’s a busy man.”

“I’m just an old acquaintance of his. Just a simple chat. It won’t take long, I promise.”

The pretty attendant raises a brow at you as she guides you to one of the rooms. She looks you up and down before facing forward again.

“You have a substantial amount of curse energy. You have a curse technique then; aren’t you a jujutsu sorcerer?”

“I…used to be…but not anymore…I chose to leave that life. I’m just a civilian that has a curse technique.”

You see the attendant smile out of the corner of your eye at your answer.

“I see. Geto-sama will be happy to take audience with you then.”

You shouldn’t be here. You knew that. Walking in taboo territory could get you hunted down by the very society you were born into. It’s not a secret of Suguru’s position as both a curse user and a cult leader. You remember hearing about him reforming a cult that worshiped Tengan but dissolved after the incident. You found it interesting he hasn’t done collateral damage yet. No incidents or missions revolving around curses terrorizing civilians. Perhaps he was going for something on a larger scale, you thought.

But you missed Suguru dearly. Not in a sentimental reminiscing way. More as in yearning for him entirely. Everyone tells you it’s not the same with Suguru gone, obviously. Yeah, but Suguru plagued your mind after his defection. You want nothing more than to see him again. Yes, things couldn’t go back to the way they were. But you didn’t like the prospects of what your future would hold if you stayed.

You disagreed with Suguru ridding the world of non-sorcerers. But you also understand and agree the current Jujutsu system is a dumpster fire that will never work. At the end of the day, only those the higher-ups favor will get to stay while the rest are sent off to die. You didn’t want to take part in that. You valued your life to know it shouldn’t be tossed around so easily by some dementia geezers who can’t even fight. And yet, you felt a tinge of regret for not staying to fix or break the system. Your only option was to leave and not involve yourself anymore.

The attendant takes you to the room, saying he will arrive shortly. Leaving you alone, you felt your heart race. You hope Suguru doesn’t kill you because he can sense your curse energy. Yet his letter was heartfelt and raw. His apology and the paragraphs after them were for you and you alone, like a confession. Even though you ripped the letter, you keep the two halves. Strangely enough, there was an address and a few words at the bottom of the page.

‘You know where to find me.’

Here you are, waiting for him with the same letter he sent. As you wait, you can feel his energy get closer. You stare down, kneeling, the letter shaking like a leaf in your hands.

Then the door opens.

You let out a small gasp, not daring to look up as the footsteps approach his seat. A soft chuckle fills the room as you keep your head low.

“I thought I was mistaken when I felt your curse energy. But I now know my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me. Please, lift your head so I can see you (Y/N).”

Your gaze meets Suguru’s soft eyes and warm smile. Both genuine and kind. His eyes widen before returning back to soft when he sees the tears trickling down for your lovely eyes he could get lost in. You stumble to stand, practically pouncing at Suguru. His embrace was like gates opening for you and closing once you entered. You softly sob into his robes as he holds you tightly. Comforting you by gently rubbing your back and hair, giving a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“I missed you so much, Suguru!” was all you said before you continued to sniffle and hiccup into him.

Suguru hums as he pulls away to better view your face. You felt self-conscious as he lovingly gazed at you. Your nose and cheeks were raw from crying, and your eyes became an irritated red. Suguru smiles, wiping away your endless tears with his thumb.

“Oh, (Y/N). I’m sorry for leaving you behind. You understand, don’t you? From my letter?”

You nodded to respond. Holding the paper in front of Suguru. He notices the tear stains and ink smudges from the words he wrote down.

“I would’ve told you in person, (Y/N). Believe me. But I couldn't once they announced my charges. You would’ve been questioned as a possible accomplice. I didn’t want that for you. Do you know what it means for you to see me now?”

“Yes, I’m aware. But I left of my own accord; it wasn’t just for you, Suguru. I wouldn’t be able to last long if I stayed. So I decided to go, leaving it behind, all of it.”

He was a bit puzzled by what you meant. But it didn’t take long for him to piece it himself. Suguru figured something happened between you and Satoru but decided to stay silent out of respect. You both stare with relief and tenderness. Suguru gingerly takes your hand and places a light kiss on your knuckles. You set your unoccupied hand on his cheek, quietly giggling as Suguru leans into your delicate touch. He sighed in contentment. Bring your hand up again to kiss it as he wraps his free arm around your waist. His sincere smile radiates down onto you.

“I guess we have some catching up to do then, (Y/N).”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Satoru was in a better mood today than before.

Satoru cooled off his head after a couple of days from when he made that outburst at you. He was stressed and tired of being continuously sent out on missions, and you did make a point that he hasn’t taken a break in months. He remembered what he said to you that evening, which made him feel guilty.

He knows he hasn’t been around because the higher-ups have sent him out like a work dog. It was now you and Shoko with him. The stabilization you two had on him once Suguru left.

You’ve been only trying to help him for a long time. Being there for him in your own way while coaxing him to hang out. Yet he took it for granted and said some vile things because his bucket decided to overflow then out of all the times it shouldn’t. You didn’t deserve that. You also didn’t deserve the silent treatment he gave you. He saw your text messages and listened to the voicemails you left. He did not answer because he was too prideful and stubborn to admit he was stressed and hurt you like that.

But sitting with his emotions and reflecting on how stupid he is for prioritizing his ego, he decided to cut down his pride and make it up to you. He unblocked your number and was going to call you. But he chose to just surprise you instead he chickened out. Satoru knew the European mission was a nuisance to his plans, so he had already taken care of it. By that, Satoru somehow teleported himself to where he needed to be in Europe, slayed the high-level curses, retrieved some curse objects, reported what he did, and teleported back to Japan in four hours.

He did all this at the last minute on the sixth day before Satoru was supposed to leave. He did this to stay and spend the whole week with you, make up for lost time, and give a proper apology.

Now, Satoru was strolling through Jujutsu Tech. He whistles as he holds a bouquet of (favorite flowers), a box with a (favorite color) bracelet with (favorite designs/charms), and a bag of mochi and daifuku for you two to share together. He walks around the grounds, trying to search you. He was told no classes today, so he went to your favorite spots. You weren’t anywhere.

‘Huh, that’s strange. (Y/N) would usually be in those places when class is not in session. I wonder where she could be.’

Satoru thought about dropping by your dorm but figured you were with Shoko. On the other hand, he couldn’t sense Shoko around either until Satoru felt it alongside Yaga-sensei. He sensed them in Yaga’s building, so he headed there.

Blissfully unaware of what would await him.

Satoru clutches your gifts to one side as he opens the door to enter. His six eyes hadn’t kicked in yet, but something in the air felt off. His sun smile hasn’t dropped yet as he scans around, wondering why the two were quiet when he entered.

“Yo, Yaga-sensei, Shoko! I’ve been trying to look for you guys. By any chance know where (Y/N) is so I can give these to her?”

He looks at his teacher, and Satoru’s demeanor instantly changes. There, Yaga stood with his glasses off, clutching a piece of paper with a stern frown. Satoru turns to Shoko, a somber expression replacing her lighthearted one. Satoru just looked back and forth between the two before his eyes settled on the paper in his teacher’s hand. Satoru stands stunned, hearing his heartbeat in his ears grow louder and louder. The air from his lungs disappeared as realization dawned on him.

Satoru clenched his teeth as he teleported to your dorm room, the clap resonating throughout the hall. He burst open your dorm door, and to his horror, your room was empty. The room was stripped of everything that made it yours. The closet and drawers were emptied, and your desk and bed were bare of anything from you. What used to be your dorm is now an empty dorm room, ready for the next person to claim it. He frantically looks around in hopes of finding any reminds of you.

Then, he spotted your old Jujutsu High uniform, laying neatly on top of your old desk. Satoru just stares, not daring to pick it up. Because if he did, he would’ve broken down. He can’t stay there anymore, to which he teleports back. He bears his pearly white teeth as he closes in on his teacher.

“Where the hell is (Y/N)?” Satoru lowly said.

“Gone, Satoru–”

“I know she’s gone! But where?! Why the hell is all her stuff gone?! Her room is completely empty!”

“Satoru,” Yaga tried calmly speaking, but he was clearly frustrated. “I know this is so sudden. But the (L/N)’s clan head said something came up with (Y/N), and they retrieved all her things. Her clan said they were going to deal with everything else.”

Satoru's breathing became staggered. He could hear it growing louder. He tried his best not to let his voice crack, but that made him angrier.

“Everything else? The hell does that mean, sensei? Why would the (L/N) clan withdraw (Y/N) from school?! School ends in a few weeks! She could have graduated with us!”

“It…wasn’t their decision, Satoru…It was (Y/N)’s…”

Suddenly, Satoru became flabbergasted. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This gotta be some twisted, cruel joke that was playing on him. His curse energy was flaring up, and his cerulean eyes lit lightly. The flowers from the bouquet were losing their petals, and his bag full of treats was getting smushed from his intense grip.

“What…?”

“The clan head said it themselves.”

“No…”

“She decided not to be a Jujutsu Sorcerer and leave Jujutsu society.”

“LIKE HELL SHE WOULD!!!” Just like that, everything came crashing down for Satoru. Not being in your usual spots on campus, the empty dorm; hell, he noticed your curse residuals becoming faint. The traces of them becoming weaker and weaker. Your presence here in Jujutsu High was fading faster than he could notice. The anger he built up showed itself as it was on full display. Honestly, Yaga and Shoko don’t blame him for his outburst. Satoru held you close, after all.

“Satoru, please.” Yaga pinches the bridge of his nose as he clenches his teeth. “I’m just as lost as you are. This came out of the blue…Her clan confirmed it, and she said it herself.”

Satoru slightly flinches when Yaga holds the paper out towards him. Gesturing for Satoru to take it.

“I didn’t read far into this because it felt like (Y/N) wanted someone else to read it.”

Satoru’s long fingers snatched the paper out of his teacher’s hands. His hands shake as he opens the paper up to see its contents.

It was a letter–from you.

His eyes slowly followed the words of your neatly written goodbye. His heart rips itself piece by piece as he continues reading. The guilt and shaming grew. He could feel the fatigue and jadedness from your thoughts. But the last paragraph makes Satoru’s heart hurt the worst. Your frustration was transformed into desperation for a new life, a fresh start. Away from the endless curses and scrutiny of the higher-ups, away from the pain and hopelessness, away from it all. You didn’t want to throw your life away. You just wanted to live. Then, you end the letter with an apology. Saying sorry because you couldn’t tell them your honest thoughts, for not facing them in your departure, for not trying hard enough for everyone when it was needed. Then, the last line of your apology made Satoru’s blood run cold.

‘Most of all, I’m sorry for being weak.’

He knew that line was for him 100 percent. You wouldn’t have written it down if he didn’t tell you. To Satoru, you weren’t supposed to be the one apologizing. It should be him. He was the one who yelled at you and said those cruel and discouraging things to you. The one who pushed you away and didn’t allow you a chance to help. Fuck, he had the audacity to use his infinity against you. How dare he do that to you, his best friend the girl he fell in love with. His teeth clenched so hard out of pure anger they could crack. The anger he felt for himself was tremendous. He was angry at Suguru, the higher-ups, and Jujutsu Society. Angry at himself for being so stubborn and prideful, for waiting too long to act and apologize. But above all else, he was angry at what had become of the situation. Fully knowing he could do nothing to change anything as already was set in stone.

If he hadn’t been so prideful, he would’ve apologized to you sooner. If he didn’t blow up at you, you wouldn't become broken and hurt. If only he didn’t push you away, maybe you would have stayed– stayed by his side. But ‘if onlys’ are regrets from the past of the current reality. Now, he is living in it with the consequences of his own actions.

This is the price Satoru had to pay. He lost the only remnant that got him through this world by pushing you away. He lost his only two best friends in the world with no way of fixing it.

The price of becoming the strongest came at the expense of two of his most dearest friends.

Suguru was gone.

You were gone.

Forever with no signs of ever coming back to him.

In the end, Satoru Gojo was, truly, alone.

362 notes · View notes

riaki · 5 months

Text

thrifted romance | megumi fushiguro x reader

synopsis: you’ve never really spoken with megumi before, so when your friends leave the two of you behind on a snowy night, you take the opportunity to get to know him.

wc: 6.2k... SO SORRY I GOT CARRIED AWAY cw: swearing, college au, noncurse au, i don’t thjnk there’s anything else ??

this got way longer than i intended it to be and i rushed to grind it out so it may not be coherent.. if so i apologize :’3 and this one’s late but i hope the content makes up for it ! enjoy meemow barely proofread!

it's a late winter evening when you meet up with megumi and your friends on the side of the street— cozied up in puffy layers and a long blazer stained with coffee splashes and a few hot chocolate smudges here and there.

fall had melted away with the slow gradient of leaves from the trees, sinking into fluffy piles on the sidewalk that soon became coated and replaced with light snowfall; the first of many problematic inches. midterms were just around the corner, and with it meant late hours spent pulling all-nighters that left you exhausted, eyes dark around the edges with a lack of sleep; breaths of minty hot chocolate and coffee from the amalgamation you'd concocted to at least pretend to get into the holiday spirit.

(a fruitless effort, though— if not for your failure that warned you to stay out of mixology, but the way your roommate's cat had knocked over your mug and ruined the flashcards you'd been wrestling with and looked completely smug with itself.)

really, though, there was absolutely nothing jolly about school, or exams. so when your favorite inefficient, sidetracking study buddy had offered to spend the weekend out, who were you to say no? nobara had offered to go find a club, but it was far too cold out to frolic around in skimpy clothing and your expensive winter coats were much too valuable to risk being stolen in the haze of drunken students and sweaty bodies. so, you'd decided to go shopping, because what else is there to do with her? besides the usual karaoke session with the upperclassmen she seems to like so much, of course.

turns out, it'd had been a group endeavor. or, more accurately— a group of four, unlike the duo you had previously thought you'd be going out in. yuji and megumi were there too— friends from separate majors; you'd heard that yuji was involved in the uprising surge of software engineers and computer science majors clambering for a shot in the world of big AI tech companies, even though he supposedly was about as computer-smart as your teetering old grandma ripe with age, permanently stuck in her rocking chair crocheting the days away.

megumi, on the other hand, was a mystery. you'd shared a few classes together; his chipped dark nails that shone the same blue as his esoteric eyes beneath the warmth of the glowing sun, and his inky black hair that spilled over the collars of his simple gray sweatshirts like effortlessly graceful calligraphy on paper had captured your attention as smooth and seamless as the daylight turned to darkness, days cut short by the onslaught of cold. even so, you'd never brought yourself to interact much— he seemed like he'd prefer to keep to himself, if the way he'd disdainfully scoot away from anyone who tried to approach him and turn up the volume of his headphones indicated anything. you had laughed to your friend and called it introversion to its finest, only to promptly shut up when his unmoving gaze landed on you, leaving you feeling like a clown on the stage, rimmed by rich dark red curtains and a wooden floorboard as the beaming spotlight shines upon you imaginary button nose, hot and glaring under his gaze.

even though you'd approved of his music taste once you snagged a few notes by the ear, you'd really thought his taste in fashion was too bland to be the type of person to shop with nobara— her meticulous style and image were much brighter and more flamboyant than megumi's jaded attempts at a splash of color through the occasional blue argyle or layered turtleneck. still, those were better than yuji's paltry attempts at fashion; at least the myriads of color on nobara's figure were coordinated. the pink-haired boy with funny scars on his face would probably have been better off learning graphic design or art, with the disasters of clashing colors on his person.

and he'd gotten the opportunity to demonstrate his questionable tastes on the chilly evening, when black ice had begun to form on the roads and the soft light of boutiques with slow jazz flowing from the speakers filled your frost-bitten red ears as you walked up to the shade of a nearby lamppost. once you'd all met up, nobara had hooked an arm around your elbow and dragged you off, leaving the boys to follow along like it was walking dogs.

honestly, you wouldn't be surprised if you were— at least, with yuji. he carried nobara's bags like she was the next princess in line, without complaint and with the little fearful quivers that dogs get in their legs whenever their owners scold them for barking or misbehaving, much like how nobara would yell at yuji if he dropped a single cream linen sweater or ruffled pink cami.

megumi, on the other hand, was far too lethargic and quiet to be considered any kind of canine. although the weaved bracelet on his left wrist with a cute little puppy charm you caught sight of when he'd rolled his sleeve up implied otherwise. the only reason he'd even had to do that was to rub the sickeningly sweet orange blossom hand sanitizer nobara had spritzed on each of your palms after you took turns petting a stray cat, one that seemed to take a great liking to you and megumi in particular.

the night seemed to drag on forever; pale yellow lights and holiday decorations blurred into swathes and bubbles of color in your vision as the hours passed and the caffeine from the cute little coffeeshop you'd stopped at earlier began to wear off.

but there had just been something magical about that evening; spending time with friends (albeit, more like acquaintances) had granted you a much-needed break from cramming your mind with an overflow of information that was sure to spill out the moment you answered the last exam question. so, when it was almost midnight and it was time to retire to your bed, you'd insisted on staying out for just a little longer while nobara and the rest returned to their dorms to catch some sleep. yuji had complained something about his legs cramping, but you were feeling giddy, and the stars were twinkling just as bright as the light in nobara's eyes were when you told her you had to soak in the fresh air for as long as you could before being locked in to study again as she laughed and headed home with her pink dog-boy escort in tow.

megumi had mumbled something about staying with you since it was late and he wanted to make sure you were safe. you didn't think too much about it, because if you did, you were sure you'd end up with a faced even more flushed than it was frostbitten from the cold.

so, here you were, strolling down the quieter side of town, a brooding boy with inky dark hair and hands pale with blue veins shoved into the pockets of his jacket trailing behind you. he had one airpod tucked into his pierced ear; you assumed he hadn't brought his headphones because yuji would be there to prattle and babble. even so, you were content not to say anything, so there was plenty of opportunity for him to wear both. but he wasn't. you decided not to linger on it.

you'd just finished writing a silly little note out of the crisp snow gathered on the windshield of some stranger's car; the flakes were cold and biting on your skin, leaving it feeling numb with little droplets of icy water when you pulled away to admire your handiwork.

"actually, maybe i shouldn't be doing that." you decided after a moment, mumbling under your breath. it was just a little message with a whiskered smiley face, but the headlights on the car and the bumper seemed to form a frown at you when you stepped back, shaking its motorized head at your vandalism.

"you think?"

megumi's voice sounded from behind you, a little weighed down by the cold with a wisp of warmth leaving his lips like a powdery exhale, curling into the prickly night air. he was standing on the sidewalk, observing you all prickly-like as if you were some flagrant toddler he was babysitting. you still had to get used to the way his voice sounded after rarely hearing it; the few crumbs you got when your professors forced obligatory presentations onto struggling students had sent this warm, fuzzy feeling collecting in your stomach at the rich tone of velvet it held. not rough or overly deep, but smooth and reassuring. the kind you could fall asleep to; like there was a lullaby just waiting to be poured from his tongue with little scratches in the indent of his tone.

of course, you hadn't heard enough of it to make such an assumption, so when you heard the little quip framed with irritation at the edges, it wasn't all sugary sweetness like you imagined.

"yeah, well, sorry i like to live a little," you huffed, rubbing your hands together in an attempt to resuscitate some warmth back into them with a small little sigh.

"you call that living?" he scoffs a little, cocking an eyebrow at the vandalized toyota behind you. now, it just looked a little sad; imaginary eyebrows over the red lights droopy in disappointment. you followed his gaze, before looking back at him and making a sour face as you stepped onto the sidewalk.

"maybe we just have different tastes, y'know? doesn't mean we don't have to get along like this," you mumbled, shaking your hands out a little to get the remaining snow droplets off before stuffing them back in your blazer pockets. "just like itadori and nobara. one has terrible taste in fashion and the other doesn't, but they both like their bright colors." you feel satisfied with yourself for that one, but clearly, megumi doesn't feel the same. but the corner of his pink lips seem to quirk up just a tiny bit, and you feel pride blooming in your chest.

there's just something about the way it looks— an almost implausible smile coaxed onto his lips by something particularly amusing, reaching his dull blue eyes in a way that made their usual tedious apathy morph into something like fondness, or appreciation. adding a shine to his navy irises the lamp light overhead could only hope to mimic. then again, you didn't let your mind linger on it for too long like usual— so instead you chalked it up to the one other thing that had caught your eye besides the sharpness of his jaw and the handsome slimness of his face: his jacket.

you take back what you said about his style and its blandness before— it would be unfair to what he was wearing right now. just a simple black turtleneck (one that you were sure he'd worn to the early morning wednesday lecture you had a few days ago, when the sun was still bright enough to catch on the condensation of the cup of lemonade your white-haired, oddly sweet-toothed professor had), and black jeans, but the vintage racing windbreaker hanging from his shoulders brought it together in a way that was unfairly seamless; all dark blues and stripes of checker; a neutral grayblue that reminded you of the sky on rainy afternoons, trudging about the shopping districts in tokyo. there were a few brand patches here and there, some red bubble lettering of names you didn't recognize in patches of color that brought out the shade of his eyes. maybe the labels of those energy drink brands you often caught him running on when the shadows beneath his long dark lashes seemed heavier than usual.

all that to say he looked good. like, seriously good. you didn't know how you hadn't noticed all night— but now that you had, it was hard to keep your eyes from his slim and tall silhouette (not that he minded). the jacket really complimented it.

"that's a neat jacket. where'd you get it?" you asked after a moment of chilling silence; he'd probably noticed you looking, and you prayed he didn't think you were checking him out. although, if that meant getting your hands on one of those windbreakers, you wouldn't really mind. he glanced up at you, tearing his attention from the sad snowy toyota camry that seemed worn past its years at the newfound attention on megumi's racing jacket. he blinked a little, and you didn't miss the little flake of frost on his eyelash; probably caught from brushing past a windowsill earlier. by now, most shops were closed; even so, the street still felt warm and safe. well, maybe it was to be credited to a person rather than the concrete— but like you had been all night, you ignored it.

"oh, this?" as if he was wearing more than one jacket (it was cute), "i thrifted it." and for some reason, you didn't expect to be surprised, but you were. him? thrifting? the few western-fashion tailored thrift stores you'd been to with nobara had been lacking— not like you'd been able to stay in them long; the artificial ginger had this... beef with reused clothes. she liked her clothes clean and fresh from the press, even if you reminded her they could just be fresh from someone else's press. megumi must be familiar with the antiquated racks of varied worn graphic tees and frayed pants if he could fish something that classy from a thrift store.

then again, it's not like you had any experience to go off of at all.

"really? y'know, i've always wanted to go thrifting," you sighed, stretching your arms out, watching the fabric of your blazer wrinkle and curve to follow the movement of your muscles. a light dusting of snow coated the surface, like powdered sugar on tiramisu. that makes the coffee stains fitting. "but i feel like i'm bad at it." you said, stepping over a crack in the sidewalk, the rubber bottom of your sneakers brushing against a little clump of pine green weeds.

"bad at it?" megumi echoes, following you with a faint ruffle of smooth fabric, like the sound of a zipper sliding down. before, the world had been a cool shade of gray, like smoke rising from a cigarette or the blurry blue of the sky from the window of a speeding bullet train. but now, you let yourself soak in the sound of his voice, like grinded coffee beans and a smooth, soothing honey medicine for your throat on a sick day when you get to cozy up in your bunk bed and watch the clouds drift by.

it's nice.

"yeah. like, i wouldn't know where to go, or what to find, or what to look for..." you trailed off, rubbing your cold fingers together again as your breaths leave in little exhales of coagulating mist in the cold night air. now that it was late, it the temperature would only continue to drop.

you walked in silence for a little longer, listening to the scuffles of shoes against concrete, glassy with ice that had begun to creep up on the roads like a steady stream of seafoam from the tides.

"why don't we go thrifting now, then?" he asks out of the snowy blue.

you paused, and you almost smacked straight into a pole. "now?" you spluttered, turning around to face him. the look on his face was unreadable; a mix between exasperation, amusement, an attempt at stoicism, and something like affection in the corner of his lips as they curved upward. it was like a CPR compression; the smile that sent fuzzy electricity through your veins and reinvigorated your heart.

"yes, now." he said it like you were stupid, which you might just be, the way you stared dumbly at his face. "the place i got this jacket from is just over there," he said, jutting a ring-adorned thumb behind him. you had to lean up and peek around his shoulder to see it; you wouldn't've noticed if he didn't point it out. it was tucked between two buildings, a stairway downward into the store. the only thing indicating its status as a retail and thrifting store was the broken neon sign and painted red arrow that gestured towards the staircase.

"looks really shady. and it's late." you grumbled after you got over yourself, and he shot you an irritated look. that was all he really seemed to be doing tonight; that downward knit of his dark eyebrows and the slight pout weighing his lips down. not very suave, you think.

he swallows hard, and you aimlessly watch the bob of his adam's apple. "well?" he prompts, a hard edge to his voice despite the situation. you stand there for a little while, marinating in the growing cold until you cant feel the tips of your fingers.

"fine."

one accidental slip on the crosswalk and a few minutes later, you're stepping down the last wooden stair of the thrift store and into the building's basement; it's much bigger than you would've thought, with an expanse of layered clothing racks that obscure your vision, the corners of the walls clogged with cobwebs and years of dust build up. there's a faint lingering scent of cigarette smoke and cologne; something vanilla that you've caught clinging to megumi's wrists and neck on the rare occasion you brush past him. faint jazz spills from the speakers, something in a swing rhythm with the signature lilt of saxophone that makes you think you should be out enjoying a romantic fancy dinner instead of being cooped up between old wrinkly moth-bitten clothes. but you're here with megumi, so you convince yourself you don't mind either way.

"you sure this is the right place?" you asked, trying (and failing) to keep the obvious distain from your voice as you kick a folded 'floor-is-wet' sign from your path and step into the store. you can't even see the cash register from where you're standing.

"yes, i'm sure. can you stop complaining?" you can practically hear the eyeroll in his voice, and you're sure you could see it too if you just turned around. "trust me. it's not all shit." his voice softens, and you freeze up a little as he brushes past you; the corridors and margins are tight, so he has to turn sideways to fit. even so, a tag on your coat manages to snag on his jacket, and you hasten to unhook it before he can notice. he almost disappears into the racks, and you have to follow him, pushing your way through thick coats and worn graphic tees that have cracked logos and balls of lints clinging to them.

you're no thrifting expert, but you're pretty sure the store's supposed to be in better condition than this.

"hey." megumi's voice soon snaps you back into reality, and you look up from the mustard yellow top you were eyeing warily to meet his sedate gaze. "the good stuff's in the back. c'mon." he doesn't give you much room to argue even though it sounds like you're here to do drugs rather than find clothing, and before you can react he's reached forward to grab your wrist and tug you along. a yelp of protest almost spills from your lips, but you bite your tongue and let him drag you along, trying to extinguish the hue of cherry you know is making a home on the tips of your ears.

you brush past patchwork coats and a few leather belts that've tangled with the lace from the silk shirts next to them, but nothing really catches your eye, until you realize that he's let go of you only because of the lack of warmth around your skin and you focus yourself on the current again. you glance up at him, but he already has his back turned to you, sifting through a rack of black shirts that all look the exact same. maybe you have an untrained eye, though.

still, you can't help it when your gaze lingers over the back of his neck; one strand of dark hair has caught itself beneath the collar of his turtleneck, and it irks you. and you decide to do something about it because you'll know it'll bother you if you don't.

time seems to move in a liquid slow; things are blurring and there's no mothballs or ugly recycled coats to get in your way as you reach over and swipe your hand across his neck, hooking a finger beneath the strand and pulling it out of his collar. it takes you a moment to realize what you just did, and when you do, it's like there's a permanent mark seared into your index finger just from the touch of his skin against your own. you think he might have whiplash because he turns his head around so fast to catch your gaze before you can slink away, eyes wide and eyebrows knit, and you notice his bottom lip is snagged between his teeth.

he raises an eyebrow, but before he can utter a shaming word that'll only make you feel more embarrassed you shake your head vigorously, apologetically.

"sorry— it was bothering me. i hope you don't mind." you managed to say, the words spilling out in a rush before you turned away and slipped past him, disappearing into an aisle of dresses. you can feel his gaze burning cold holes into your back as you distract yourself.

you don't let yourself linger on what you just did— you seem to be doing a lot of that, lately, especially with him as you go through a few batches of clothing. by now, it's far past midnight, and you're feeling much more sluggish than you'd like to admit. you haven't seen megumi in a good twenty minutes save for the few times you picked up a few shirts and a cute diner jacket you thought would look good on him. he just thanked you bluntly, taking the bundle of clothing from your arms before walking away to the fitting rooms. you wished he'd stay to let you see the jacket.

you'd tried on a few things, discarding your blazer in favor of a cute knitted cardigan you grabbed, but nothing seemed to stick the way you'd like them to. it would be a great help if you had nobara to assist, but you were sure she was snoring away at home right now, and at the thought of your warm, inviting bed, your knees wobbled a little and you balanced yourself on the wall.

"hey— oh, you alright?" it's an unfamiliar voice; you lift your head up, looking for the source. it's a young boy— he looks to be about your age, maybe a little younger. there's a blue lanyard around his neck, and he's got a spattering of freckles on his hands, which are curled around the collar of a white linen shirt. he must be the one who's tending to the store.

"yeah, i'm okay. sorry," you said hastily, pushing away and rubbing the back of your neck. how embarrassing— he didn't seem to mind, though. he just smiled, big and bright and toothy. cute. reminded you of how toddlers would grin up at parents with those huge red lollipops in hand.

"no worries. i just thought i'd let you know that we're closing soon, since it's almost 2am." he said, shifting his weight on his sneakers. you nodded, about to give a hum of confirmation before another voice cuts through the slow jazz filling the stifling air above, all familiar in its smoothness.

before you could respond, though— "[name]?" megumi's voice rang out in the quaint little store, calling for you, and so you give the employee an apologetic nod before you turn and start toward the noise. you pass a mirror with a coat draped over the top, peeking your head around a tall rack of long skirts to catch sight of the raven head, in all of his glory. you notice that he's taken off his windbreaker.

"what’s up? we have to go soon," you reminded him, yawning a little and rubbing your eyes as you straightened up and stepped over to his side. there was another mirror in front of him, you noticed, with fading stickers pale in the dim yellow light stuck to the wooden rim. even so, with the smudges and the bare sheen of the silver, he looked good. that black turtleneck really suits him.

"i know. i just wanted to ask for your opinion." he said, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. you tilted your head curiously, and he held up a deep mauve sweatshirt, with some varsity logo branded on the fabric. it had a nice touch to it; a warm color that reminded you of red wine and slow evenings. you were sure it had been one of the pieces you'd picked out for him, but you were too sleepy to recall. "you should try it on. i think it'd look good," you said, gesturing toward the mirror.

you think you must've said something wrong, because he looks at you for a moment too long before he seems to catch himself staring and he nods, a choked little sound leaving his throat which he hides by ducking his head down and covering his face with his long bangs. you think you're hallucinating the pink on his cheeks.

after a moment, he glances at you. "hold this," he shoves his jacket towards you, and you have no choice but to take it. doesn't seem like he's used to taking no for an answer, but you're certainly not the one complaining when he tugs the sweater over his head, ruffling his soft black hair as he steps a little closer to you, observing himself in the mirror while straightening out the folds and fixing his turtleneck. you were right— it does look good on him. almost unfairly so— you don't know how he manages to rock granny clothes so well, like he was born a retirement home's runway model.

unlike him, you're not a reticent shut in— and although you'd like to say you have no problem telling him how good he looks, it's still a little difficult when the words feel like they're lodged in your throat in order to prevent you from making a fool of yourself again. but you ignore it and push on.

"you look great. i think it really suits you," you breathed, shaking your head as your hands tighten around his jacket in your arms. he blinks, adjusting the collar before glancing down at you. you take a moment to really appreciate the sight— him, bathed in the soft yellow glow of the chipped lights overhead. despite the dilapidated store and the antiquated, worn clothing surrounding him, he still manages to look like some ethereal angel boy you'd stumble upon in a bookstore on a dreary winter's afternoon and never be able to get out of your mind again.

ink black eyelashes flutter when he blinks, framing his eyes like the bangs falling over his face when he turns around again to observe himself in the mirror once more before he takes the sweatshirt off. it catches on his turtleneck, which rides up when he slips the mauve sweater over his head, tussling his hair and exposing the dip of his pale hips, all muscle and flesh and bone, and you pray he chalks up the red on your face to the cold. the end of his belt dangles from the buckle as you hand his jacket back to him, fingers almost brushing— just barely out of reach.

a meager conversation flows between the two of you; you follow him through the endless maze of used clothing until you somehow stumble upon the cash register and he buys his sweater; the only thing he manages to buy after all this time spent milling about in a dusty, dinky little retail store. the boy from earlier helps check him out, and the icy glare he receives from megumi when he glances at you seems to fly straight past your head as you pick at your cuticles. the tips of your fingers are still red from messing with the frosty snow earlier. you wonder when the car owner will find your message.

it's almost freezing when you get out of the dusty shop, emerging from the smoke-stained alleyway stairs and into the cold night air. your breaths almost seem to form a precipitate, and the thought reminds you of the chemistry conversions waiting for you on your desk beneath the lamp, and you cringe internally. staying out for a few hours longer seems way better than succumbing to the never ending stream of worksheets and documents calling your name. you wonder if your charismatic professor will let you get away with a few assignments if you call in sick. are papercuts excuse enough?

the click of a lock behind you signifies the store's closing— the employee left through a back exit, it seems. and you realize too late that you left your blazer in the dressing room when you turn around and a sigh falls from your lips. megumi, paper bag in hand, glances over at you.

"you okay?"

you almost forgot he was there, in his brooding vintage racing jacket glory. you shake your head, before sighing forlornly again. he notices this, making a little face; his lips press together and his pretty eyes narrow. he thinks you sigh far too much. you'd look prettier if you smiled some more. he likes it when you do.

"i left my blazer in there, but he just closed it and it's so fucking cold out," you whined, bringing your hands to your face and rubbing your eyes tiredly. you're cold and your fingers are going numb again, and there's light snowfall. so much for not losing your coat at a club. you can't tell which one's worse. "sorry to complain so much, but do you mind if we—"

you're promptly cut off; the words on your tongue left unsaid, burning with the taste of bitter black coffee. your gaze trails from megumi's hand, the clink of his silver ring against the zipper rail of his jacket as his fingers curl around the fabric, up his arm to the sleeves of his dark turtleneck, rounding the curve of his shoulders and up his neck to his face. he's not looking at you.

the words that leave his wet lips are so small and hurried that you think you're hallucinating them; when you inevitably looked back at this moment later, you'd realize that he was being shy. he mumbles something under his sweet breath, and you ask him to speak up.

"i said, you can use mine." he repeats, louder than necessary as he finally brings himself to look down at you from under his lashes, biting the inside of his cheek. his voice is a little strained, and a soft breeze carrying the smell of cinnamon and fresh ice rustles his hair. you blinked, feeling like a deer caught in headlights over a layer of thin ice, ready to shatter at a moment's notice.

"oh— okay. um, do you have anywhere else you need to go..?" you said tentatively, reaching forward to take his jacket again. it was exactly like how you'd done back in the thrift store, but the vague sense of deja vu you get is accompanied by an endless fluttering of warmth in your stomach that melts away the winters and tiring exams, and the night seems to become a soft warm orange, as if someone's drained the cool hues from the landscape.

megumi just shook his head, reaching into his bag and taking out the sweater he'd bought earlier. he slips it on again, adjusting it over his shoulders and refusing to meet your eyes as he crumples the paper bag in his hands. you notice they're slightly trembling as he does it, fingers digging into the material with much more force than is really needed. his hair follows each movement of his head; the strain of the muscles in his neck when he swallows again and gestures for you to follow him back down the empty street, past cars coated in melting snow and jaunty yellow lights twinkling over the awnings of closed store windows, shut down for the night. the sweater suits him really well, you think; not too loose, but tight enough in the right places to send your heart racing a mile a minute.

you pull his jacket over your arms, tucking your sleeves in and zipping it up. it's big on you— that's no surprise, and you can almost taste the vanilla on your tongue, his cologne lingering on every fold of the insulated fabric. it's warm, and it feels like being enveloped in a tight hug. in megumi's head, he hopes— prays its him you think of if you ever feel that way again.

you walk in a stiff silence; both of you want to say something, but you're dancing around it, letting your words linger unsaid until the other breaks the ice first. it's only ever cracked once you reach the dorms, where you part ways. there's light snowfall, and a thin layer of white has coated his hair when you turn to face him. you reach forward, learning onto the tips of your toes to brush off the ice. his hair feels unimaginably soft beneath your fingers, slightly damp from the snow. but he's the furthest from cold when you pull away; his face is burning up.

by now, you can't bring yourself to mind.

"thank you," you said softly, sighing contentedly. you move to take his jacket off your shoulders and return it, but he stops you, holding a hand up. the expression on his face is unreadable, but his lips are pursed together in a way that makes you think he's pouting.

"don't worry—" a pause. " you can, uh. keep it. i know you wanted one. just... give it back when you want, yeah?" he says, curt. almost prude, if it weren't for the way he was avoiding your gaze out of embarrassment. it was like trying to play the world's most difficult game of whack-a'mole, attempting to catch his eyes and see the iceberg that's melted into pools of warm glittering affection in his blue irises. at the thought, you wonder if he likes arcades, and you make a mental note to suggest an activity to nobara the next time she has the urge for an escapade.

you don't bother asking him whether he's sure, because you don't want him to take his words back. so you linger there in a moment of silence, letting it hang over your heads like a warm throw blanket, cozied in front of a fireplace with a mug of hot chocolate in your hands. maybe a coffee mix like you'd attempted before.

angel boy clears his throat first to speak, all honey that links the syllables together like christmas ribbon; rich like orange flavored dark chocolate. "i'll see you later, then." it's short and sweet, but your heart is already flying so high on euphoria you can barely bring yourself to care, or suppress the giddy grin that's spreading across your lips.

yeah, you're tired. yeah, you're still a little cold and you think you need to thaw at your desk for a week until exams, but at least you've got his jacket to accompany you when your study buddy passes out first and you're alone on all nighters. frankly, you can't bring yourself to care— your head is spinning with the events of the chilly night, from crude messages in the snow to thrift store mothballs and lanyards, to one checkered racing jacket. but you don’t think it’s so bad when it threatens to stick to your memory, like chewed up gum under your professor’s desk. whether it’s from the students or the professor, that’s a mystery you’ll never solve.

"yeah. see you around, fushiguro." you can’t say the same about the mystery that megumi is, though. in fact, you think you’re already one step closer when you turn around and part ways, catching sight of him in the reflection of a frosted window. he’s slipping both of his airpods back into his ears, crimson at the tips.

the sound of your shoes against the rug stairway fills your ears as you clamber back up to your dorm, eyelids heavy with drowsiness and face flushed a pleasant warmth. even when you finally get to bed, you can't stop your eyes from drifting over to the bundle of lapis blue fabric sitting on your desk, and your mind from the soft spoken boy with eyes like the night sky and inky hair like calligraphy.

you decide you don't think his style is too bad, after all. and when you tell him that the next morning when he's still sleepy and his lashes fall slow when he blinks the weariness from his eyes, you get to enjoy the steady flush that stains his cheeks and prompts a hoarse cough from his throat when he ducks his head away and grumbles something under his breath, probably about being offended you even thought he was boring in the first place.

and if you ever ask, the only reason he lent you his windbreaker that night was to replace the scent of mothballs and dust with your sweet-smelling perfume.

so, as it turns out, you're able to get your hands on one of those pretty vintage racing jackets— except, it wasn't a new one; it was his. nobara hasn't stopped pestering you with questions since you showed up to class the next day; the only thing you hear for the next week is how much she regrets leaving early.

apparently, it's all yuji's fault.

my (riaki) stuff. don’t repost and/or plagiarize !

#ahhh im really sorry this is late;; got busy with life like those ao3 authors but much less impressive #i really like jazz i feel like not enough people do #just listen to persona music sometime. its worth #sometimes i make up words but thats ok as long as people buy it. i speak english first language trust 👨‍🔬#i feel like reader is kokomi or whatever her name is from saiki k #at that one ramen place but its a thrift store.. pretending it’s not all that bad except reader doesn’t rlly try LMFAO #for megumi!!! everything we do is for him 💐#megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x you #fushiguro megumi x you #megumi x reader #megumi x you #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro x y/n #billet-doux #and via thinks her titles r bad #I CAN FINALLMY. WORK ON MY CHRISTMAS EVENT

539 notes · View notes