#i was TALLER THAN HIM FOR A YEAR in like. middle school | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wolfytae-exe · 7 months

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TEACH ME.(S)

Summary: In which your boy best friend needs help impressing a girl.

Warning: Noona kink, dry humping, implied unrequited love, fwb, raw(wrap before you tap), bottom tyun, grinding/humping, teasing, tempting, nipple sucking, oral(fem receiving), early orgasm, over-stim, multiple orgasms, college au, switch tyun, mean dom tyun, slight pain kink, whiny sub tyun, thigh riding, praise + degradation, name calling + pet names, switch reader, size kink if you squint lemme know if i missed anything

Paring: virgin bbsf!Taehyun + Older!Reader

“I’m sorry- what?” You whisper yell, staring at your best friend. Kang Taehyun, you’ve known him since you both were in the 2nd and 3rd grade. You had fended off tiny little bullies that made fun of him being a child actor with your hot tempered personality.

You always stood by his side, fending off bullies until he grew a pair and was able to stand up for himself, given that only really happened mid-highschool when he began working out.

You are now in your 3rd year of college, him in his second, and sitting in your dorm room.

Your roommate had left the shared space hours ago to go to some frat party so you decided to invite and catch up with your boy best friend.

Everything was just fine, he got in the building just fine, been sitting in your floating chair for hours now, but the moment he began talking about his tiny little crush on the girl in his vocal class, telling you everything he loved about her and how badly he wants to impress her you couldn’t help but be shocked.

Taehyun has only dated once, in middle school. He’s always mentioned how he never felt an attraction to the people around him, even recently claimed to be Aromantic, but with this new found information you couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous.

You’ve never liked Taehyun, never even thought of him anyway other than a friend. Except that one time when you first hit puberty, and after him and his girlfriend broke up, and when his voice deepened, and when he grew taller than you, and when he started working out- but that’s besides the point.

Your jealousy was cut short the moment he asked you for help anyways, he really wanted to impress this girl. “I really like her Noona..” Taehyun whined, hand pressed to his chest simply because thinking about her overwhelmed his heart.

You cocked a brow at him, never seeing him like this. “And I’m supposed to help? I don’t know the girl, she’s probably already impressed by you anyways.” You argue, muttering the last bit under your breath as you pull out your phone to check the time

10:36PM, damn no wonder your eyes were heavy.

Taehyun groaned and sat up from the chair. “But you’re a girl, you can point me into the right direction!” You rolled your eyes at that. “Tyun I’m almost positive you won’t be rejected no matter what you do.” You say as you get up and move to your closet, pulling out of the boys t-shirts, now stuck with the smell of you from the multiple wears.

“I doubt that, she never even looks at me, I sit right in front of her and she’s never looking at me!” He complains, not even bothered as you begin to strip your shirt and shorts. “Look, if she’s not looking at you in the first place then something is already wrong with this picture.” You say before slipping the shirt on, letting it fall over your ass and thighs like a short dress.

Taehyun let’s a pout fall on his face, he was always so open and expressive with you. “God, fine if you really want some advice you need to get out your comfort zone and fuck her.” You bluntly said, reaching under your shirt to unclip your bra. “Why would that help me?” The man sounded appalled, and unbelievably stupid.

“You’re fucking with me right?” you deadpanned before groaning in frustration when your bra just refused to budge. “Help me.” You say before walking and dipping down a bit in front of him. “I’m serious, you shouldn’t joke like that, I don’t just want to get into her pants.” Taehyun responds with frustration before running his hand under your shirt and unclipping the bra between two fingers with ease.

You ignored the shiver that crawled up your spine the moment his fingers brushed your skin. “Tyun look in the mirror. You’re basically a sex symbol, virgin or not I promise you a lot of girls want you, hell she probably wants you too.” You say as you pull the bra out from under your shirt.

It’s silent for a moment, like he was trying to think of some kind of solution to his problem. You took the opportunity to stand up and toss your clothes into the hamper.

When you looked back over to the younger he was just staring. “What?” Was there something on your ass or something? You brushed your hand over your ass to feel for whatever was making him stare so hard. “Did I sit in something? Oh my- am I bleeding?” You gasped out, now panicked and trying to look down.

“You’re okay Noona, no blood, I just had a question.” You let out a sigh at that, falling back into your bed with content. “Yeah?” You responded further. “What do you think?” Taehyun practically whispered the question across the room. “Think about what?” Your eyes squinted, trying to hear him.

Taehyun practically avoided looking at you any more than he has, becoming more aware of how bare you were in front of him. “Me.” He paused as if finishing his question would really change the meaning of it. “Do you want me?” He finished, sinking a little in his seat.

Your eyes widened. “E-excuse me?” You stutter up a scoff, the question making you think about it, what being in bed with him would be like. “You just seem so sure and you’ve known me the longest so I think it’s a fair question.” Taehyun breathes, trying to slow the bouncing in his leg.

Your silence is what answers the question, making him hum when you sit up and avoid eye contact. Taehyun’s the one staring now, legs opening into a more comfortable position. “Noona~” He practically dragged the word over his tongue with a hum and teasing smile.

“You look so guilty, you want me that bad?” He continued before getting up, taking in the way your thighs press together at his words. The moment he starts walking over, your head is up, staring up at him with shame. “So? I can want and know not to touch. Don’t change the subject when we’re talking about your little crush.” You huff, dodging his accusing teases.

Taehyun hums, standing over you with a new found confidence. “Okay, so how do you expect me to fuck her.” He follows up fast, fighting the smirk threatening to give away how much he’s enjoying the power you simply handed to him. “What kind of dumbass question is that?” you scoff, running your hand over the sides of your shirt.

Taehyun just inched closer, now leaned over the bed. “I get you’re a virgin and whatever but don’t tell me you don’t know the birds and the bees.” You say sarcastically, trying to desperately de-escalate the situation at hand.

“Noona.” Taehyuns face remained stoic, he spoke with depth and full intent to continue what he started. “Stop calling me that.” You fought the whimper in the back of your throat, instead breathing out a bit hard through your nose. “I’m only a year older.” You mumble, sucking in when the younger gets a bit too close.

“Teach me.” Taehyun can’t hide the smirk anymore, a wide upturn of his lips making his request sound a lot more dangerous than it was. “Wh- Do you hear yourself?” You’re absolutely bewildered with this mans confidence.

“I’ve never had sex before Noona, I can’t impress her that way, I need to learn first.” There was a slight purr in his voice, and you felt a rush of wetness soak the middle of your panties. “Tyun, I don’t know.. We’re like- Best friends, isn’t it a bit weird?” You confess, trying hard not to react.

Taehyun hummed. “I think it’s just fine, we’ve known each other for so long, I trust you enough, and I’m positive that we’d stay best friends no matter what.” And just like that Taehyun was down on the bed, laying in front of you on his side.

You were still nervous on it, you wanted him so badly, he has always been your type, a nerdy dork turned gym jock with hella musical background. “Are you sure? I just- I don’t need you to regret your decision.” You sigh out, nerves not allowing you to breathe correctly.

“I’ll be okay, please teach me how to please you.” His voice softened, eyes hard yet big. You could feel yourself throb, pressing your thighs harder together. “Okay..” You let out, leaning out of your spot and leaning toward the younger. “First, uhm, okay—“ You stutter, this was so not hot. “Can I kiss you, Y/N?” Taehyun asked under his breath, eyes already on your lips.

That was definitely hot, a whimper left your mouth in response, which caused your ears to burn in embarrassment. “Yes..” You sighed, letting him lean into you and take control, pressing his lips flush against yours softly. With a shiver you followed, closing your eyes and letting your lips move together fluidly, there was so much trust and softness in the kiss you felt yourself melt into him.

Taehyun pulled away a bit quick, a little red in the face. “Did I do good Noona?” He asked, a little more eager for you now, god this man just keeps switching back and forth, does he want to tease you or please you? “So good, touch me- my waist-“ You tried to order, you didn’t mess around a lot, too focused on school to party or do anything other than get your degree so it was a bit difficult to voice what you wanted.

Taehyun was quick to please, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into him and rolling onto his back so you could get on top. “Can I?” He panted, hands running under your shirt. “Not yet- just- just stick to touching me first.” You respond, too embarrassed with your bare body all of a sudden.

The younger just nodded and went straight to your neck, planting small kisses and licks like a cat. “Oh- Tyun-“ You whimpered, pressing more weight of your hips into his. The feeling making a “Fuck-“ slip out from him and warm your skin further. Taehyuns hands found purchase on your hips and began grinding you down, wanting to feel that pulsating pleasure again.

“Fu- Tyun you- you fucking liar-“ You choke up, following his hands and humping his jeans. “You’re good and you know it.” You pant the accusation, a whimper following quickly. “Fuck don’t stop.” Taehyuns hands were far from your body now, moving to remove his shirt. You tilted your head back, feeling his rough jeans rub just right on your clit.

“You’re so hot, using me like this. Use me to please yourself Noona.” Taehyun whispered, the last bit to himself yet loud enough to make you whine in response. The boys jeans were so unbelievably tight, painfully tight, all he could do was moan and buck into you, the motion did nothing but make your hips stutter and stop, all of a sudden overwhelmed with the pleasure.

When you came back too, you looked down at Taehyun, his washboard abs and tight pecs on display. Without a second thought you were in between his neck, planting kisses from his jaw to his throat, a small suck on his adams’s apple before moving down to his chest.

You both made eye contact, lust filled gaze connected with each other instantly before you took his left nipple into your mouth, licking at the tiny bud of nerves. “Ah- Noona please-“ He whined, unable to keep his facade up. Your left hand ran through his hair while your right ran down his chest to his jeans.

“S-so good I- Oh god-“ He stuttered, too distracted by your tongue so foreignly on his nipple to even notice your fingers undoing his jeans, it wasn’t until your hand palmed his cock through his boxers when he noticed, a gasp coming out so hard you felt his chest cave in for a second. “Falling apart just from this? I don’t think you’ll last to fuck a girl, Tyun~” You teased, not expecting Taehyun to buck and moan with no care for volume as a response.

You could feel Taehyun growing in your palm, enough to makes you pull off him and pull his jeans and boxers down to see if what you were feeling was real. The younger let out a whine at the cold air hitting his cock while your eyes widened. “You’re not gonna fit-“ You gasped, looking a little defeated as you eyed the curvy, thick cock in front of you.

His cock curved up onto his abs and you knew if you were to wrap your mouth around him you would dislocate your jaw halfway down. “Please- h-hurts Noona.” He panted desperately, tears welling up at the painful throbbing at the tip of his red cock.

You hesitated for a second before peeling your wet panties off and taking his shirt off your body, tossing it away. “Taehyun if you break me I swear to god.” You spew as you climb back on him. “Do you have a condom?” You ask quickly, it takes Taehyun a moment to realize you weren’t doing anything until he answered so he simply shook his head. “You?” He asked simply, you shook your head. “Maybe my roommate has one- ah!” You yelp put as Taehyun pulls you down to his cock, the tip hitting your entrance before slipping through your pussy lips and over your clit.

“Tae!” You scold, “you cant play like that, you have no experience pulling out.” You continue while he slowly grinds into your clit. “I’ll get soft by time you come back.” The boy whines, “I’ll tell you when I’m about to cum and you can pull me out if I don’t move.”

You let out a sigh. “Not happening.” You hold your ground, you’re not risking it even for your best friend. “Not even if I do this?” He tests before running your clit up and down his cock a bit harder yet slower, letting you feel every vein and fold with the drag. A whimper left you as you looked down at the way his cock pressed flat against his abs, pooling pre-cum into the crevices.

“We can just stay like this- please, just wanna feel you on my cock.” Taehyun begged quietly, eyeing the way your nipples hardened in the cold. The effect those words had on you were borderline embarrassing as you whined and let him roll your hips into his.

“Oh fuck- ‘o good-“ You pant, feeling the way the praise goes straight to his cock. “so good to Noona.” Taehyun bucked at that, fighting the way he wanted to cum already. “‘m good boy?” Taehyun asked with glossy eyes, unable to not melt in your control.

“Such a good boy, Tyunie.” You praise before slowly giving into him and his whining, letting his tip slip in before pulling out and rubbing him down your folds again. You repeated this a few times until he began squirming.

“Noona- ‘m sorry- close-“ Taehyun whined, eyes closing in embarrassment before cum shot over his abs and chest and a raspy moan that came straight from his chest followed.

You let out a moan as his cock twitched against your clit. His cock looked so cute spurting out the white strings of his arousal. A giggle left your lips as you continued your movements, pushing more and more out of him until he was trembling and begging for you to ease up.

“Tyun, Noona isn’t satisfied, how will you ever please your girl if you can’t get me to cum?” You taunted, bringing your nails to his chest and scratching down to leave red marks.

“N-Noona~” Taehyun high pitched purr left his lips in response. “T-Too much-“ he panted. “Hmm, then you need more practice.” You hum, lifting off him and moving to the side while he caught his breath.

You watched the way his cum trickled down his sides before they dripped off into sheets of your bed. “You’re messing up my sheets.” You mutter before swiping a bit off his navel with your finger and licking it off, watching as he stared deep into your eyes.

You hum at the salty taste that sticks to your tastebuds before going down and licking directly off his abs. You’ve wanted to do this the moment he ended up with them, wanted nothing more than to lick them up and down.

Taehyun whined, the feeling of your tongue all over him reigniting that flame in his stomach. “You’re like a half virgin now, how does that feel?” You tease, kissing up his abs to his chest, sucking small hickeys on it. “Did that even count?” Taehyun panted, running his hands over your hair.

“Either count it or we can try over and over and over again.” You whispered, kissing up his chest in between words. “We can set a schedule, you’ll get the hang of it in no time.” You hum, kissing at his jaw before settling close to his face and pressing your chest to his.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Y/N.” Taehyun lets a flushed grin grow on his face. “I’m not threatening you, but I am serious.” You say before rutting onto his thighs slowly. “I’m sorry I came so early.” Taehyun mutters in embarrassment. “You’re a virgin ah- It’s bound to happen.” You pant in reply, letting your arousal wet his thigh.

“God look at you, using me like a slut.” Taehyun hums, before moving his hand to the small of your back to help

control your movements. “What happened to being a good boy?” You tease, a shaky sigh in pleasure following quickly after.

“I know I’m a good boy, letting you use me for your own pleasure, you’re supposed to be helping me but you just can’t help but rut your dirty little cunt on me after i’ve already cum.” Taehyun degrades, eyes dark all of a sudden as his free hand finds your face, thumb pushing your bottom lip down and flattening your tongue.

A wail comes out from your throat as you speed up, the degradation doing nothing but making wanna cum all over his thighs. “You’re bad~” He teases, tensing his thigh muscles under you. “I bet that slutty pussy of yours tastes just as good as it feel though.” He moans out, nails clawing into your lower back just at the thought.

“F-Fuck wh-“ You whimper, why was he being so mean all of a sudden? The pain in your back made tears prick your eyes. “Please- make me feel good-“ You beg, wanting nothing more than to feel his tongue all on you.

“Aww well how can I deny that pretty little look, doll? Move up pretty.” Taehyun commands, fingers digging a bit deeper. “Ah!” You let out before moving fast and lifting off his thigh. You shuffled your hips up, moving above his face. “Y-You know how to do this?”

Taehyun just stared at you, lust haze covering every corner of his iris. “Just sit on my face.” He rasped out while wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling you down to sit completely. “O-Oh..” You sighed as his nose pressed straight into your clit.

It was only when Taehyun opened up his mouth and began eating you out that you really felt the knot in your stomach. “Ah- Tae-ngh~” You moaned, gripping his hair as his tongue pressed into your heat before performing figure 8’s on your clit.

“W-where-“ You panted as your thighs attempted closing on his head. Your heart pounded and you felt a rush of liquid run down your thigh as he hummed into you. His eyes never left you, nails embedded in your inner thigh to keep you open and nose rubbing and bumping into the sensitive bud whenever he dipped into your hole.

“Tyun- Oh fuck I can’t-“ A whine left you as you gasped for air and arched into him, trying to grind against his nose. “Need more~” Pleasure overtook your senses when he let his teeth graze your clit, a scream let out fast and loud before you came hard.

You tried squirming out only to be pulled back in. Taehyun began eating you out more ferociously, a growl bubbling from his chest as his lapped up your arousal. “Ah- Ah~ Tyun please-“ You begged as he began pushing you to overstimulation. His arms loosed for you to get up and he spoke. “Just one more, Noona, a big girl like you can handle it.” He pushed before holding you back down onto his face and ravaging your heat once more.

Your eyes rolled back in ecstasy, unable to control the shaking in your lower body. He was turning you into mush, smile evident on his face as you began babbling about not being able to handle anymore. Very quickly you came again, the push was weak and yet Taehyun enjoyed it just as much before pushing you off him and onto the bed.

“I knew you could take it.” Taehyun sighed before looking at your state. You were curled into yourself, catching your breath. “Wh-Where did you learn that?” You panted before uncurling and turning to him.

“Porn.” He simply said before pulling you into him. “You learned how to do that from porn?” You questioned, allowing yourself to be pulled close to his chest. “Mhm, well they did say it gets women coming every time so I just tried it.” He shrugs before pressing small kisses to your neck.

You hummed and closed your eyes. “I’m surprised it worked. Porn is always exaggerated.” You sigh, running your hands down his chest and back up. You both were feeling each other, too tired to do more but still wanting to touch.

“Is your back okay, Noona?” Taehyun muttered into your hair, gently rubbing the marks in your lower back. The small sting caused you to hiss slightly. “Just burns a little..” You respond quietly. “Is your chest okay?” You ask back, remembering the way your nails clawed into him. “Just a little red..” He responded back.

The comfortable silence was enough to put you both to sleep, gentle snores and cuddles in each others arms. Safe to say, you hoped he’d ask for help more often.

#smut requests #txt smut #kpop smut #non idol au #txt hard hours #taehyun #taehyun hard thoughts #taehyun x reader #taehyun smut #taehyun hard hours

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wttcsms · 26 days

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angels like you can't fly down here with me (i'm everything they say i would be), megumi fushiguro ;

pairing megumi fushiguro x f!reader word count 11k synopsis people like him don't get happy endings but megumi fushiguro (foolishly) considers himself to be the exception — after all, he has you. content contains yakuza au, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, breeding kink, slight daddy kink, attempted sa, minor violence & depictions of blood author's note if ur on my ao3, you know this is from 2021!!! my writing has changed up since then, but i'm going to be releasing a revised version of this which will be rewritten and feature more scenes, more worldbuilding, more plot, relationship and character development, etc!! i figured releasing this on tumblr would help me gauge how worthwhile revision of this fic will be, so lmk if u like this au & want to see it become even better <3

Don’t do it.

He repeats the command inside his head again, and then one more time for good measure. (And then another time, just to drive the point across.)

He won’t — can’t; isn’t really allowed to — get into (another!) fight.

(Well, there’s a part of Megumi that knows that despite Gojo’s sing-songy warning of “now, now, Megumi, I don’t need a frequent visitor’s card for the principal’s office”, he doesn’t actually care. All he’s really concerned about — if the mild interest the reckless teenager turned legal guardian shows can even be called that — is whether or not Megumi wins.

And he does.

Every. Single. Time.)

For the most part, Megumi Fushiguro is fairly stoic in general, but to a concerning degree when one accounts for the fact that he’s only ten years old. For the odd three or so years he’s been under Gojo’s wing, Megumi’s mask of disinterest stopped becoming a mask and started becoming a part of him.

(Try as he might, Gojo’s not nearly as funny as he thinks he is. Maybe the connection between them might have been stronger if Gojo was a bit more responsible and if he was actually present, but he’s got his own shit to deal with. Besides, Gojo’s under the impression that what he’s doing isn’t cruel, but rather a means to an end. Megumi’s never going to be able to get stronger if he doesn’t learn how to survive on his own.

After all, being alone and having to fight to survive is the life people like them live.)

The older preteens in the area have a bad habit of picking on the younger students. Because the elementary and middle schools are so close together, the younger students who have the misfortune of walking alone tend to be targets for bullies in need of pocket change or a good laugh. Most of the time, they get both.

As of late, everyone’s favorite target happens to be Megumi Fushiguro, the boy with the messy black hair and indifferent attitude, even when confronted by boys two years his senior and almost a whole entire head taller than him.

Last week, Megumi gave the three older boys dumb enough to harass him for money bloody noses, bruised egos, and a thirst for revenge. That was the first (and supposed to be the last) time he got into a fight (for this school year, at least — something Gojo had told him, while winking). So, even when the trio is back together again, taunting him and trying to get him to take the first swing, Megumi keeps walking forward with his perpetual look of disinterest, those cold blue eyes of his staring straight at the path ahead of him, never paying any mind to the gangly bodies of the middle school boys who keep trying to block him from moving.

Don’t do it.

He tells himself this once more. You don’t want to have to inconvenience Gojo. Then, you’ll be stuck listening to him pretend to lecture you. You don’t like spending too much time with Gojo. He’ll make weird jokes.

The thought of having to deal with Gojo’s presence is enough to get Megumi to unclench his fists.

“Move.”

It’s the first thing he says to the group since they started following him after school. He tells the boy with the brown hair this. The brunet seems to be their ringleader of sorts, and even as nothing more than a ten year old child, Megumi knows that being twelve/thirteen and harassing little kids for sport is a sign of patheticness that will only grow and fester into something darker unless someone beats some sense into them. Obviously, they didn’t learn their lesson from last week.

“Huh? What the hell did ya just say, ya little brat?” The brown haired boy sneers, looking down at Megumi.

School has just let out, so there are dozens of kids of all ages walking down the sidewalk. They’re all aware of the situation happening, but everyone chooses to turn a blind eye to it. Partly because this is such a common occurrence that it just starts to become something that blends into the scenery, but also because there are some rumors surrounding the Fushiguro kid that’s enough to make anyone with a heart of gold reluctant to come to his rescue.

The main rumor circulating around the school is that Megumi Fushiguro has ties to the yakuza. Granted, most kids his age have no idea what the yakuza is, and even those who somewhat know only know through exaggerated definitions from their older siblings. Generally, everyone just accepts the fact that the yakuza is bad, and by default, Megumi Fushiguro must be bad too. Older siblings tell their younger siblings to avoid “that boy” at all costs, unless they want to end up with a finger cut off. Megumi’s classmates huddle together and conveniently choose to look everywhere else but at him when on the playground.

For anyone else, this might have been enough to cause some hurt feelings. Everyone thinks the boy must be some type of stupid to be so oblivious to the rumors centered around him, but the truth is this: Megumi is well aware of what people whisper about behind his back; he just doesn’t care enough to prove them wrong.

And they’re not wrong, anyway.

(For some parts of the rumors, at least.)

Because it’s true — Megumi does have ties to the yakuza. His father, who he can’t seem to attach neither a name nor a face to, must have done something bad. Something bad enough to have him cross paths with Satoru Gojo, the young head of the Gojo Clan, one of Tokyo’s most prominent crime families. It’s the same Gojo who decided to adopt both Megumi and his stepsister, Tsumiki, despite having nothing (so far) to gain from it. After all, why would a teenager willingly assign himself the responsibilities of caring for small children — one who resembles the man that tried to kill him and the other being an ill little girl confined to a hospital bed for who knows how long. All Gojo gets from this deal is a headache, bills, and more problems than necessary.

Megumi’s not really sure how the rumors started in the first place. He thinks it’s because kids his age are easily influenced and have a tendency to run wild with their imaginations. With the rising popularity of gangs from the high school students, this interest seems to have trickled all the way down to the elementary levels. Megumi certainly fits the description of their idea of someone from the yakuza: silent, secretive, scary.

(If they were a little bit older, maybe they would have just seen him as an introvert.)

No matter how ridiculous the rumors get, though, it doesn’t change the fact that the root of them is true: he is connected to the yakuza. After all, he’s being primed and prepped to be someone of value in the clan. Once you’re tied with the likes of them, you might as well just resign to the knot fate’s trapped you with. He’s learned quickly that the only thing harder than getting into the yakuza is getting out.

And because his sister’s and his life both depend on him doing as he’s told, getting out is a funny pipe dream at best and the Fushiguro siblings’ cause of death at worst.

“I told you to move. You’re blocking my way.” Megumi’s tone of voice betrays nothing. Annoyance, maybe, but he speaks flatly regardless of how he’s truly feeling. Gojo says it’s kinda creepy. Gojo also says that being a little creepy isn’t bad.

(Gojo should know; he’s a certified creep in Megumi’s eyes.)

“Oh — so the little boy can speak up.” The boy with blond hair laughs. It’s a nasally sound that grates Megumi’s ears.

He’s not an idiot. Megumi is well aware of the fact that no matter how much he feels like it isn’t true, he’s still just a little ten year old boy. He should be playing with the toy cars Gojo bought him, not worrying about the gritty future that lies ahead. But still, the phrase rubs him the wrong way.

Little boy.

He wasn’t so little when he kicked them down to his height before properly bashing their faces, now was he? Even now, he can feel the anger coming up. He clenches his fists, wondering if he’ll get suspended for fighting right next to school property.

“Leave him alone.”

Another voice appears, but not from any of the boys. No — this time, it’s coming from a little girl on the sidewalk across from theirs. Everyone involved turns to stare at the source of such a command and are greeted with the sight of you with a Hello Kitty backpack. You’ve got a frown on your face that doesn’t match the brightness of your pink outfit.

Megumi recognizes you instantly. You’re in the same class as him. You were in the same class as him last year, too. He tilts his head, trying to figure out what exactly it is you’re trying to accomplish here — and why.

He knows his social standing in the school. If he’s at the bottom, you’re right at the top. A beaming pillar of light, everyone flocks to you like moths after a flame. But you’re alone today, not surrounded by the usual crowd of boys and girls who are often vying for your attention. Seeing you alone enables him to see you more clearly, without all the distractions getting in his way.

You’re small. Shorter than him, and way shorter than the middle school boys. You’ve got a bow in your hair and brand new shoes on your feet. If anybody should be socially aware, it has to be you. Those at the top, Megumi knows, like to remind everyone of their placement. You shouldn’t be here. You should be ignoring him like he’s got the plague, just like everyone else.

All three of the boys start to laugh after sizing you up. The laughter only serves to make you even more irritated, but you can’t speak because one of them is already talking through his laughs.

“Don’t tell me. Is this your girlfriend?”

The group erupts into more laughter, and while Megumi’s expression remains the same as it’s been for the past few minutes, yours only shows your growing contempt.

“She’s no one.” Megumi throws you an odd look, one of neither annoyance nor gratitude for trying to help him out. He uses your presence as a distraction, and he manages to take a few more steps before one of the boys is yanking him back by his bookbag.

“Grab her.” One of the boys says, and the third boy, the one with the messy red hair, starts to cross the street.

Megumi watches as you stay right where you are. Are you stupid? Why won’t you run? The boy still has a solid grip on his bookbag, keeping him in place. He wonders if it’ll be a waste of his breath if he tells you to start running — you probably wouldn’t listen to him anyway.

But then Megumi figures out why you don’t look too frightened, because not even a second before the older boy manages to cross the street to your side of the sidewalk, a man in a suit is running towards you, a scowl on his face.

“You said you were going to the restroom, young lady!” The man scolds you while panting for breath. He surveys the scene, looking at you, and then the middle school boy by your side before turning his head and seeing Megumi in between the other two boys. “What’s going on? Is everything alright? Did they do anything to you?”

“No, Mr. Higashi. B-but—“ Your bottom lip starts to tremble, and even though Higashi is certain that the tears about to fall are fake, the situation itself looks serious enough to the point where he doesn’t call you out on it. “Th-these boys are being really mean.” You let out a high pitched wail that makes the boy let go of Megumi’s bookbag. “They just threatened to attack me and my friend out of nowhere.”

“Your father will be informed.” Higashi frowns, eyeing the guilty boys who look confused and a little shocked at this turn of events. “Mr. [Surname] certainly won’t be pleased to hear about this.”

The middle school boys pale when they hear the man name drop your family’s surname.

After all, it’s the same last name that’s engraved on plaques all over the school, thanking your family for the many donations they’ve received.

You enter into Megumi’s life that way: unexpectedly. He never thanked you for intervening, but it’s not like you did it for the thanks anyway. You did it, you tell him, because you figured he needed some help.

“I had it handled.” He tells you flatly. “Why are you even sitting here? Your friends keep staring at us.”

It’s true. Stories of what happened are already circulating around both schools, and while all your friends spent the whole entire day pestering you for the full story, you chose to keep quiet about the situation. And now, here you are, choosing to sit and eat lunch with Megumi, someone who also knows the true story of what went down but the only one people aren't brave enough to ask.

Your whole entire table of friends keep their heads huddled together as they go back and forth with each other, every one of them sparing glances at Megumi’s table. It makes the rice in his mouth taste stale. He should have just stayed in the classroom to eat, especially if he knew you would be bothering him.

“Gee, is that any way to treat a friend?” You huff, not at all actually annoyed with him.

“We’re not friends.”

“Too late. I told my dad we were.”

There has been one question on his mind ever since that incident. Just who exactly is your father? He’s not stupid; he knows that you must come from a wealthy family. If the buildings and auditorium named after your family isn’t enough proof, the fact that you always have the latest toys, the nicest shoes, the cutest stationery sets — that’s material proof of a spoiled princess.

You continue speaking, and as if you can read his mind, you’re already answering his question. “My daddy’s called a CEO. But the man you saw is Mr. Higashi. He takes care of me when dad’s away at work, and everything I do gets typed up in a report that dad sees every day. He wasn’t happy about what happened, so he says the boys will get in trouble. He told us not to worry, though.” You have a pleased smile on your face, waiting for Megumi to say something in reply.

“Okay.” He says, after a while. He only spoke because it seemed like you were waiting for him to. “It doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

“What’s so wrong about being friends with me?” You tilt your head. Everyone wants to be friends with you. And that’s before they even figure out that you live in a real life mansion with actual servants, and that sometimes you’re allowed to eat dessert for dinner. Even without the wealth, you still draw people in, whether it be with your bright smile or cheery attitude.

“Don’t you already have enough friends?” He can’t figure out what you could possibly want with him. Even though Gojo’s got the backing of the clan and enough funds to run the Tokyo underground with cash to spare, it’s not like Megumi is in a position to take advantage of it. Gojo hands him a thick wad of cash every week with a tip to “spend wisely, hehehehe”, and Megumi takes the tip to heart. A majority of the money sits saved in his bedroom, underneath a floorboard he spent a week trying to figure out how to loosen without anyone catching on. (Which was actually easy whenever he realized that nobody seems to really watch him to begin with.) So, he doesn’t look like he has money, and isn’t that what all rich kids want? To surround themselves with equally rich kids?

“I guess.” Your bubbly mood seems to dampen a bit at the mention of the other kids. They like you, sure. But they like each other a lot more. The gap between you and the other kids isn’t noticeable at first, but the novelty of having an endless supply of company has lost its luster. Meanwhile, the glamor of your life only keeps the hoards of “friends” to grow as the days go by. It’s always “let’s have a sleepover at [Names]’s!” or “[Name], we have to go to your house because you have the best toys!”. You wonder if they like you, or the shiny things that they get when they’re with you. “But, it’s not like youhave any friends.”

“I don’t need any.” The response is quick — instinctual. Gojo, even if not the greatest guardian by any parental standards, still presses Megumi to have a proper (or, as proper as it can be) childhood.

(“You know, I don’t care if you bring any friends over. Just make sure no one ends up accidentally getting shot, okay, Megumi?”

Yeah, because that’s definitely gonna push him towards throwing as many parties as he wants.)

People in his position don’t have many friends. It’s hard to, he assumes, because of all the killings and betrayals and power plays.

(And, he’ll soon learn that it hurts a lot less to lose an enemy than it does a friend.)

“Hmm. Okay.”

But you don’t get up from your seat, and he doesn’t tell you to move.

The next day, you’re carrying two bento boxes. The lunches are prepared for you by world class chefs and everything is done in a rather cutesy manner to entice you into not wasting your food. The fruit is cut into pretty shapes, the food has picks with animals on them, and everything is colorful and to your own personal tastes.

You take a seat next to him once again. He looks up for a second, sees that it’s you, and returns back to his meal that looks pitiful in comparison. Leftover rice and some cold meat. You think it’s the same thing he had last time.

“For you.” You slide the second bento you had requested towards him before opening up your own.

“What’s this for?”

“For you to eat, silly.”

“...How much?”

“Huh? All of it, I guess? If you don’t like something, tell me, and I’ll request something different tomorrow.” You don’t quite understand what he’s asking you.

“No. How much does it cost? I'll bring you the money tomorrow.”

“Why would it cost you?” Now you’re really confused.

Didn’t anyone ever teach you that everything comes attached with a price? If it’s not money you want, it must be something else. At least, if Megumi’s judgments are right. (And they usually are.)

“Fushiguro, I brought you this because I want you to eat well and grow strong.”

He wonders what rice shaped like Hello Kitty has to do with his strength.

“Also, so the next time people give you or me trouble, you can fight them, okay?”

Oh. So it’s protection you want. He contemplates what he thinks your request is before popping a piece of food into his mouth. A meal made with care — he can taste the thought that’s been put into it. Shoving his old lunch to the side, he quickly starts eating at the one you brought him.

Okay. So maybe he does accept your offer.

“Meguuuumi.” You whine out his name, messing up the navy sheets of his bed while he sits at his desk, trying to finish his application for university. “I’m bored.”

“Good. Go to your own house then, and leave me alone.”

“You’re so mean to me.” You sigh, turning your head so that half of your face is pressed against his pillow. The scent of his shampoo still sticks to the fabric, and you subconsciously inhale the scent some more. It’s familiar and reminds you of him, your favorite person in the world.

No one believes you when you tell them that Megumi is your best friend. No one wants to believe that it’s true. After all, the two of you look more like a shoujo manga trope than an actual pair of best friends. The cold, inexpressive dark haired male lead with a secretive past he doesn’t want anyone to know about and the bright, bubbly, ball of energy that is constantly clinging to his side. It’s like looking at night and day with you two.

“And yet, you’re still always here.”

You’re still by his side, even when the two of you reached middle school and high school together, and he spent a majority of his time starting (and finishing) fights.

(“Get off of him!” You screamed, yanking on the collar of one of the boys who happened to be trying to grab Megumi from behind. You don’t have the same amount of strength as them, but everyone at this point knows who you are and who exactly your father is. No matter what the origin of the fight is won’t matter; all that matters is that the precious daughter of one of Tokyo’s richest CEOs got caught in it, and that’s enough to get everyone involved into some deep shit.

Immediately, the boy scampers off, and the other boy Megumi was punching into the squeaky clean floors of the hallway begins to thrash around wildly, eyes wide at the sudden sight of you. Seeing you coming from behind Megumi is like watching the sun peek through a dozen storm clouds.

Megumi gives him one last punch, not nearly as satisfied as he thought he would be. Honestly, getting into fights with low level delinquents is beneath him. It’s not just his knuckles and clothes that are getting dirty; by feeding into the school’s image that he’s this young, violent yakuza heir, he’s dirtying the prestige Gojo claims is oh so important.

“Megumi.” He straightens up at the sound of your voice, which usually sounds so sweet, especially when it’s directed towards him. Instead, you have an uncharacteristic frown on your face and you sound… mad. “Let’s go.”

You’ve got a hand wrapped around his wrist, and people part when they spot the two of you making a hasty exit. The teachers aren’t bold enough to cause a scene with you, and the students know both you and Megumi are practically untouchable — one being the spoiled brat daughter of a rich and powerful businessman, the other, a ticking time bomb with ties to the yakuza.

You don’t stop walking until the two of you are in a secluded courtyard at the school. No one goes here, mainly because it’s in such an inconvenient location and there’s nothing but trees and weeds over growing it. The two of you found it within your first week of being here, and ever since then, it’s become your designated spot to avoid prying eyes.

“I thought you were over stupid fights. You told me yourself that they weren’t the type of people worth beating up.” You scold him, forcing him to take a seat on the bench that creaks under his weight. You make a noise as you inspect the drying blood on his knuckles.

If an outsider were to look at the scene before them, they would gape at the unbecoming sight of you on your knees, in between his legs, too close for a duo who claims to be “just good friends”. But there’s nothing inherently dirty in your thoughts. Instead, you’re staring thoughtfully at his hands, inspecting the minor damage done to them.

Megumi swallows hard as he looks down on you. He shouldn’t be feeling like this — you’re his best friend, his only friend. The only person who’s by his side. If you could read in his mind, there’s no doubt that you would be recoiling away from him in disgust…)

You’re still by his side, even when he told you the truth about himself after waiting years to see if you were truly his friend or not.

(“The rumors—” He starts to say, but you shush him, rolling over on your side to face him. The two of you are lying on the grass in your massive backyard, trying to spot a shooting star that’s supposed to be passing by at any second now.

“I don’t care about that.” You tell him. Middle school was a bitch to deal with, mainly because as everyone was in the process of growing up and “maturing”, so did the rumors they spread. Now, the two of you are halfway through your first week of high school. A new school, a couple of new classmates, and new rumors surrounding the odd pair.

“If I told you the rumors about me being someone you should avoid were true, would you be mad?” He’s lying on his back, still staring up at the night sky. He’s not turning to face you, almost as if he’s scared to look at you.

“Yes.” You answer without any hesitation. “At the person who’s spreading that around.” You clarify, poking him on his side to lighten the somber mood he’s setting. “You’re the only real friend I’ve had in forever, Megumi. I don’t think what anyone says about you would change that.”

“What if I did something bad?” Like kill a person. What then? What would you think of him if he told you the full truth: that Gojo told him that he can’t shield Megumi from the dirtier aspects of this type of life. That he’s spent hours after school, hours after hanging out with you and pretending to be a normal teenager, learning how to assemble, disassemble, and then reassemble a gun. That his target practice isn’t glass bottles lined up in a row or sheets printed out with human bodies. What happens if he told you that his target practice was low level scum from rival yakuza clans that Gojo couldn’t be bothered to kill himself?

“Mmm. How bad are we talking? Like, lied to me when you said my Christmas outfit looked good but half my ass was practically exposed bad or committing a felony bad?”

“What if I told you… that I really was a yakuza heir.”

The silence is palpable and especially soul crushing to Megumi as he waits for your reply.

“It wouldn’t matter to me, Megumi.” You say. You know that this isn’t just some type of hypothetical question he’s asking for fun. From his odd living situation to the intense nature of him in general to the fact that he knows practically everything about you, but you barely know the full extent of his childhood traumas despite growing up alongside him, you know deep in your heart that there has to be something going on with him. Something dark enough to harbor stories about him.

“Are you sure about that?”

You reach for his hand in the dark, finding it without really needing to look. He’s not one that’s prone to initiating physical contact, but you found out that he doesn’t really mind when you reach for him first.

“You can’t get rid of me, no matter how crazy or fucked up you think your life is.” You squeeze his hand, still staring at him.

You don’t notice the shooting star flying past the night sky, but Megumi is looking right at it. He knows what he’s wishing for.

For your words to be true.)

You’re still by his side, even when he brought you to his sister’s bedside. She’s sick, afflicted with something no one knows, not even the private doctors that Gojo’s spent millions on. She was still conscious, albeit confined to her bed when the two of you first met, but she’s been in a coma ever since the last year of middle school. You were by his side as he broke down about the news. It was the first time you’ve ever seen him cry.

So, no matter how much it may seem like he’s pushing you away, you don’t budge. For someone smaller than him and definitely weaker, you’re awfully resilient. And while people make the occasional joke, telling you to “blink twice if you need help”, you don’t pay any attention to them. If only they knew the truth: that you’ve got Megumi Fushiguro, heir to a massive yakuza clan, wrapped around your dainty finger.

He’s so whipped that he found himself asking Gojo for a rare favor.

(“College?” Gojo rubs the back of his neck, staring at Megumi. “I mean, I guess it’ll be good for you. Meet a wild party girl, take her to your dorm room, tame her—”

“An education is the whole point of attending, you know.” Megumi interrupts him before Gojo can jump into a story highlighting all of his sexual endeavors with college girls back in the day.

“Eh. I guess.” But then a grin lights up the feature of the man who [kind of/by definition] raised him. “But y’know what I know for a fact.” He wiggles his eyebrows, his glasses slipping down his nose as he tilts his head downwards. “You wanna follow [Name].”)

It doesn’t really matter if he’s not good enough to get into the university you’ve already received an early acceptance for. Because Gojo tries to make up for being an absent father figure, he fills in those empty spaces with cold, hard cash. All it takes is one nice donation, and Megumi’s wherever he wants to be.

Where he wants to be, he realizes, is to be by your side. Wherever you go, he’ll gladly follow. Funnily enough, despite the two vastly different backgrounds the both of you come from, you both have similar means of getting what you want.

Your father had already looked over the list of universities you had in mind, and all you could do was excitedly squeal and start rambling the moment the acceptance letters came in the mail. Despite the fact that your father’s physically absent from your life most of the time, he still tries to show he cares in the things he does for you. If paying off over half a dozen major universities in order to make you happy is something he has to do, he’ll do it without batting an eye.

It’s the same thing on Megumi’s end. Granted, Gojo’s means are more along the lines of using money as a lubricant and then death as an inevitable. Money talks, a gunshot to the head silences. Nobody can accuse anyone of taking bribes if said accused person is in a grave six feet under.

Sometimes, Megumi wonders how you’re just so oblivious to the fortunate circumstances in your life. You chalk up a lot of your father’s wishes as just “good luck”. In school, you’re placed on a pedestal, revered as some goddess-like, otherworldly being. People are practically tripping over themselves, running towards you for a crumb of your attention. Anyone sane would gladly wield this power and use it for all its worth. Not you, though. Not you, who’s kind and considerate and completely clean from the corruptness that plagues everyone else.

Megumi knows good and well that he’s not a hero — couldn’t be farther from it, if he’s being honest. He doesn’t feel a moral obligation to go out and rid the world of all evil. (It’d be hypocritical, he thinks, considering the fact that he’s most likely belonging under the evil category himself.) From a young age, he’s already known and come to terms with his fate. He’s going to train and learn from the best, and eventually, he will succeed as head of the clan. That is his purpose. That right there is the reason why he’s still alive today. That is why he can find himself sitting at his desk, submitting an application that’s already guaranteed to be followed up with an acceptance letter, ready to pretend for four more years that he’s normal.

“D’you think college will be fun?” You ask him, making yourself comfortable in his bed.

“No.”

You laugh at that. You like Megumi for a lot of reasons, and his honesty is one of them. Despite the fact that he likes to keep most of the darker details of his life to himself, you know that he would never lie to you. In a world full of people who are constantly lying, it gets tiring trying to figure out who’s real and who’s fake. It doesn’t help that you want to believe in everyone either. If you didn’t have Megumi loyally staying by your side all this time, you doubt you would have made it this far in your life without anyone taking advantage of you and your kindness.

“My dad said I can finally get a boyfriend when I go to college.” You say this fact so casually that Megumi almost — almost — gets fooled into believing that this is not a cause for concern. Almost.

“Oh.” He’s at a loss for words. He knows that it’s inevitable; that one day, you’ll find a guy you like and want to get closer to him. He knows that you’re not always going to be by his side, and he knows that it’s going to happen because he’ll have to push you away eventually. The older he gets, the deeper he’s burying himself into his grave. He doesn’t want you to get caught in the crossfire.

It’s not like boys have never tried approaching you before. People have spent years thinking that you and Megumi were a couple, and then after finding out from you that the two of you are nothing more than “best friends”, boys were still hesitant to talk to you. The glare Megumi would give them from behind your shoulder acted as a strong enough deterrent.

“I know. Now the only problem is finding a guy who’ll actually wanna date me.”

“They all will.” The words leave his mouth faster than he can even think about them. He’s not wrong, though. Every time the two of you are out in public together, he sees people shooting quick glances at you, at your ass, at your bright smile. The looks they give are predatory, dangerous, even. If it’s not your looks, it’s your shining personality that draws them all in. And if that’s not good enough, there’s always the enormous wealth attached to your last name. That’s the key to getting them to stay.

“You can be so sweet sometimes, you know that?” You giggle, glad that he’s still typing away on his laptop. If he were to look at you right now, he would see that you’re reacting way too positively to such a lackluster compliment. It’s not like he listed reasons on why anyone would ever want to date you, so he probably could just be complimenting you to make you happy.

(That’s just the excuse you’re going with. You know your best friend — that means you know that he would never say something he doesn’t truly think or believe.)

There’s a secret you’ve been keeping from him. A secret so big that you think you might’ve been keeping it from yourself, too. Something so big that your body simply can’t contain it any longer.

You like Megumi.

Of course you do. You keep telling the whole world what great friends the two of you are. You talk to him about your dad all the time (which must mean he’s important, because you rarely get to speak to your dad, so you have to choose your topics of conversation wiseley). You trust him more than you trust yourself. Ever since middle school, you’ve been telling yourself that you liking Megumi isn’t anything to be ashamed or confused about. You like him because he’s your friend, and you’re supposed to like your friends.

And then you came to terms with the fact that you like Megumi beyond the borders of friendship.

It starts with you seeing him the way other girls must see him. You’re not blind, you know. It’s obvious that Megumi is far from ugly. If he wasn’t so intimidating, you’re sure he would have had his fair share of confessions, too. Megumi’s pretty, although calling him a pretty boy wouldn’t do his character justice. He’s got lashes people pay extensions for theirs to look like, and the prettiest dark blue eyes you’ve ever seen, and his hair, which he doesn’t put forth any type of effort in, always looks good whereas the same hairstyle would look messy on anyone else.

It’s not just his looks, though. Even if you look like the type of person who would judge others based on such shallow standards, you didn’t approach Megumi simply because he’s attractive. He’s… interesting. He’s got this reputation for being a delinquent, and maybe all the fights on his school record prove it, but he’s surprisingly respectful. He’s the type of guy who gets up from his seat to let an eldery woman have it. He loves animals. He’s honest and sweet despite his seemingly stoic nature, and he’s so oblivious to just how good he is.

Maybe it’s because he’s so blinded by the light that is you. You, with your cutesy bento boxes that used to be made by your team of personal chefs but are now made with your own manicured hands. You, with that bright smile of yours that he wants to always see because god — he thinks he would be willing to destroy the whole world if something were to ever make you so upset. You’re kind and beautiful and everything people write love songs about. You’re so good, and he’s nothing like you.

He’s nothing like you, because he highly doubts that you spend your time fantasizing about him like he does with you. It’s wrong, he thinks. And dirty, and disgusting, and vile. You’d hate him, he’s sure of it, if you knew what he thinks about late at night. That he sits on his bed with his cock pulled out from his shorts, leaking with precum as he strokes himself to the thought of you. Do you not see him as any other guy? Despite your lack of experience, surely you know just how dirty boys’ minds can be? You’ve got to be conscious of the fact that he’s any other guy, right? So, why — why — do you always roll around in his sheets, letting your sweet perfume stick to his sheets. Your tiny tops and skirts are always clinging tight to your body, and you never feel the need to readjust your clothing when it rides up. Do you not see him trying his hardest to look you in the eyes when the two of you are talking, despite the tantalizing sight of your skirt bunching up, exposing the smooth skin of your thighs?

Little does Megumi know (and if you have your way, he’ll never find out), you spend nights in your room, whining and trying to stuff your cunt with the same fingers that painstakingly made him his lunch. He’s your best friend since childhood. He looks at you like you’re an angel, and you don’t want to destroy that image by revealing just how dirty you really are. How every time he gets so close to you, you subconsciously bring your thighs together, trying to rub them together in a poor attempt to relieve some tension. He’d be disgusted with you, you’re sure of it. Maybe even betrayed.

Besides, it would never work out. Megumi doesn’t see you the way you see him. He might look at you with a soft look you’ve never seen him give anyone else, but that’s because you’re his only friend. It’s not like he’s harboring any hidden feelings for you, and just because you’re so convinced that there’s no one better than Megumi around, it doesn’t exactly mean that you won’t feel this way about anyone else.

Megumi’s got a rather monotone cadence with his voice, so you’re not too surprised by his seemingly unethusiatic response to you saying you’re now allowed to date. Still — there’s a slight pang of disappointment when you realize that he doesn’t sound jealous at the prospect of you dating someone else.

You decide right then and there that the healthiest thing to do now is to just bury your feelings for him deep inside your heart, to tightly pack in all those pesky feelings and store them away so you can make room to allow others to fill in his space.

gumi <3: where are you? gumi <3: i’m feeling tired and i have an assignment due tomorrow. i’m going home. gumi <3: you know i wouldn’t leave without you. cmon [name]. let’s leave now

Megumi frowns at his phone. He can clearly see that all his messages are being delivered, not to mention that he’s already called you twice and has been sent to voicemail twice. He can be patient when he wants to be, but right now, he’s getting a little pissed.

You know that he doesn’t like parties, and you know that he doesn’t hang out with the same people you do. He also knows that you don’t even really like most of the people you surround yourself with, so whyyou suddenly decided to do a 180 and reestablish your throne as the head of the social pyramid, he doesn’t know.

Lately, things between the two of you have been a little… weird. Sometimes he catches you staring at him with a sad smile on your face; one that you immediately replace with your usual one when you realize he’s looking right at you. Despite him asking you if everything’s okay, you vehemently deny that there’s anything wrong, and you’re quick to change the subject.

He thinks he’s losing his best friend, his only friend. And maybe it only hurts because he’s grown used to your presence in his life. Maybe it hurts because you’re his friend. But he knows the truth. It hurts because he’s losing you.

Did he do something wrong? Did he accidentally somehow reveal the extent of his feelings for you? Did you suddenly decide that maybe associating with someone like him isn’t something you’re meant for? Do you…

Do you hate him now?

It doesn’t matter. Maybe it does, but not right now. Right now, he’s more focused on getting the hell out of this stuffy ass living room, filled to the brim with drunken young adults and people he couldn’t care less about. The only person that matters right now is you, and he’s on a mission to find your location.

He’s got this ominous feeling in his gut, like something bad is about to happen. He’s Megumi Fushiguro, for fuck’s sake, so bad things have a habit of following him wherever he goes. But still, he’s made a personal promise to himself that no matter how bad things get, you’ll never get caught in the crossfire. He’s willing to die to keep that vow.

If you don’t reply to him, you most likely have a good reason. He doesn’t want to be clingy, is pretty damn certain he doesn’t even have a right to be, but he’s still worried about you. He’s pushing past the wall of sweaty bodies, trying to catch a glimpse of your hair color, the waft of your perfume, the familiarity of your laugh, but he can’t catch a single crumb of you anywhere.

You’re nowhere in sight, and he’s immediately filled with dread.

He yanks a guy who’s coming from upstairs.

“Ow, man, what the fuc—”

“Is anyone else up there?” Most of the time, the parties are restricted to just the first floor, with the unspoken rule being that only the upstairs should be used for people trying to fuck or to use the bathroom (or, people trying to use the bathroom to fuck). You’re not anywhere downstairs, and if you were simply using the restroom, you would have been back down here by now.

“Shit, I don’t fucking know.” The guy squints at Megumi, as if trying to see if he knows him or not. With the way his expression pales, Megumi comes to the conclusion that the guy might not really know him, but he knows ofhim. Gojo says that with the right reputation, the two concepts are practically synonymous. “But I heard a guy ‘n a girl, I think, walk past the bathroom. I don’t know who, though!”

Megumi lets go of the boy’s shirt, and he’s quick to run off before Megumi can give him any more wrinkles in his shirt — or do something much worse.

He’s thinking. Odds are, it’s probably not even you. With so many people roaming around this house, it’s likely that he just missed your presence. Your phone could have died, so that explains why he can’t reach you.

He finds himself heading up the stairs anyway.

It’s fine. He tells himself. You’re fine. You’re okay. Nobody would dare to touch a single hair on your head unless they want to suffer directly at the hands of Megumi. People around campus call him your guard dog, and it’s not necessarily a nickname he hates.

The atmosphere upstairs is vastly different from the one downstairs. There are no lights turned on, and all the doors to the rooms are closed. He hears a flush coming from one end, and out walks a tipsy girl who’s staggering a bit. There are only so many doors to choose from, and he doesn’t really want to accidentally walk in on two people trying to have sex, but the need to confirm your safety outweighs any possible embarrassment he may suffer from, so he continues on his mission.

The first two rooms are revealed to be empty, leaving just one more. Megumi takes a deep breath before trying to turn the handle.

It’s locked.

His gut is telling him something isn’t right, but he’s forcing himself to chalk it all up to paranoia. He curses under his breath, wondering why he even let you out of his sights for a single second.

Because he didn’t want to seem clingy. Because he didn’t want you to have any more reasons to keep on pushing him away.

He decides to call you one more time, and as he’s listening to the dial tone, he hears a faint sound coming from the other side of the locked door.

It’s a phone ringing.

He presses his ear against the door, trying to make out any more sounds he possibly can. Is it still a coincidence when the phone stops ringing right as Megumi is greeted with your voicemail message of “sorry, I can’t come to the phone right now, but you probably should’ve just texted me!”

Without the annoying dial tone distracting him, Megumi can listen a little more clearly to what’s going on. There’s… there’s someone crying.

The voices are muffled, but he can make out bits and pieces of what’s being said.

“—fuck up… crying like a damn bitch… want this.”

He’s heard enough before he’s banging his shoulder against the door.

“OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!” He’s screaming, hitting it again. There’s a chance, the voice of reason inside of him is saying, that it’s not you that’s crying behind that door. Even if it wasn’t, Megumi still wouldn’t have stood by idly. But instinct is telling him that it is you, and that’s enough cause for him to bang his shoulder against the door once again. He hears a scream, and a male voice cursing.

The force of his body banding against it is enough to have the door really test the strength of its lock. Megumi’s never been the bulkiest person in the world, but he’s still got some defined muscle to him. The door is creaking, almost bending to his will, but he fumbles in the dark for the gun safely tucked away by his side.

It’s a gift from Gojo. To speed up the process when something needs to be done quick is what Gojo said it was for. He’s never used it in such close proximity to you, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

No silencer. He forgot the fucking silencer. With the deep bass rumbling from the speakers, he doubts anyone would be able to hear the gun go off anyway. He aims for the handle, pulling back the safety, and fires once, then twice. With a foot aimed at the door, he kicks at it, pleased to see the way the abused door finally bends to his will.

The open door reveals a scene that makes Megumi see red: you, with tear stained cheeks and your clothes bunched up and strewn across the floor with a guy Megumi vaguely recognizes as someone sharing the same Econ class as the two of you — Mahito.

“You fucking bastard.” Megumi practically lunges forward, tossing his gun to the side. He doesn’t see reason, is numb to common sense at this moment. All he feels is the need to hurt this fucker. To make him bleed, to have him on the brink of death, to see the light of life leave his dark eyes.

Mahito is fast, but even he couldn’t imagine the speed that Megumi would possess when pushed to the edge. This is different from the fights you’ve witnessed during school. This is something entirelydifferent.

The first punch has Mahito wincing in pain. The second, third, and fourth ones are thrown back to back, and there’s no time given to recover, no chance to gain the upper hand. He’s falling down, and Megumi’s on top of him, drawing back his fist only to slam it against him again and againand again.

Megumi knows he’s got something fucked up inside of his head — what other explanation is there to reason with why he finds this bloody violence so satisfying? His knuckles are bloody, and he can’t tell where Mahito’s blood starts and where his own ends. There’s a wild grin on his face, one that you’ve never seen before. You’re not sure if it’s a trick of the shadows, but the feral expression on Megumi’s face transforms him from your loyal best friend to something monstrous.

“‘Gumi, st-stop.” The words stumble out of your mouth as hiccups, but you don’t miss the way Megumi’s raised arm freezes in its higher position before he slowly brings it back down to his side. He’s breathing deeply, and all is silent in the room.

As if the sound of your cries is enough to snap him out of his daze, it’s almost scary how fast his mood shifts. Just a second ago, he was hellbent on beating Mahito to a bloody pulp, and now the darkness drowning those blue eyes of his is practically gone. He makes his way to the bed, each step hurried but still hesitant. Do you even want to be near him right now?

You answer his question with some more small sobs. “‘Gumi, I—”

“Shh, it’s okay, [Name].” He’s picking up your clothes from the floor, ready to help you get dressed. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

“Megumi.” His name seems to be the only thing you’re capable of saying right now. After he helps you get dressed, he’s thrown off guard when you cling to him, with your arms wrapped around his neck and your wet cheeks pressed against his shoulder.

The moment the two of you are exiting the room, both of you far too wrapped up with the other to pay him any mind, Mahito lets out a laugh before groaning at the pain Megumi inflicted.

The two of you don’t know what you just started, but no worries — Mahito has the means of ending it.

It’s only a matter of time.

You’re too good to be true.

You won’t listen to him when he tells you this (you never do), but he swears you’re a fucking angel or something otherwordly. There’s no other possible explanation for just how breathtakingly beautiful you are, or how you’re the only thing consuming his every thought. Despite the fact that all the blood on his hands has reached an amount that he’s sure he’ll never truly be able to wash it all off, you don’t shy away from his touch. As a matter of fact, it seems like you’re keening for it.

“‘Gumi.” You mewl out, sticking out your tongue to lap at the precum on Megumi’s thumb.

You’re well aware of just how dangerous your boyfriend (the title makes you giddy every time you refer to him as that) is, but you know him. You know that the hands of a killer are the hands of your lover, and most of the time, you have a hard time believing the awful things he’s had to do with them. Because right now, those hands that are meant to be weapons are handling you with care, touching you so gently, you would have thought you were made of glass and ready to shatter.

“Look at you, all spread out for me. What happened to my precious, shy little girl, huh?” He removes the hand that was cradling your face back to his cock, stroking his length, the saliva from your tongue acting as a minor lubricant. The first time he fucked you was the first time you’ve ever had sex with anyone ever, and it had been the start of an addiction. You love Megumi. You love everything about him, from his character to his tenacity, all the way down to his cock, with its red tip that’s sticky with pre and leaking out more as he stares down at the obscene position you’re in.

Your face feels warm as he stares down at you, his eyes darkened with a mix of love and lust that you don’t think you’ll ever get used to being on the receiving end of.

“Need you, need you so bad, please, ‘Gumi—” You’re staring up at him, giving him your best doe eyes.

“Fuck.” Just the sight of you beneath him, completely bending to his will, whining out for him to pretty please fuck you has him ready to cum right on the fucking spot. He’s pressing the tip in, his breathing faltering just the slightest as the warmth you provide envelopes the most sensitive part of him, nearly causing him to lose all self control right then and there.

You let out a cry as he pushes himself deeper in you, making himself at home in your gummy walls, one hand gripping your hip and the other holding onto the headboard.

“You feel so good for me, baby, shit.” He hisses, waiting for you to adjust, impatient but willing to bear it if it means it’ll feel better for you in the long run. After all, there’s nothing he wouldn’t do, nothing he wouldn’t endure, just to ensure your happiness.

“Mm — ah — please.” There are still tears welling up in your eyes — precious girl, he hasn’t even began to properly fuck you, and you’re already tearing up? The sight of you completely and willingly at his mercy is enough to get him to start rutting his hips against yours, the satisfying sound of skin slapping against skin resounding and bouncing against the walls of his bedroom that is starting to feel more like the both of yours.

“Y’feel so fuckin’ good for me, baby.” He groans, his pace quickening, the thrusts getting sharper and rougher with every roll of his hips. You’re powerless against his strength, and this type of easy submission feels so natural, feels so good, when it’s him that’s taking advantage of it. “You’ve got the sweetest pussy, y’know that? I could fuck you forever.”

His praise goes through one ear and out the other with you, but your heart swells up to twice its size. Even if you can’t focus on the words all too clearly, you’re still aware that Megumi’s probably praising you. You can come to this conclusion because he’s always praising you. He’s always so sweet, so gentle, so loving — when it comes to you, that is.

“Hng — daddy!” You can’t help but let out a high pitched moan as he hits that sweet spot inside of you that makes you buck your hips up.

There’s no way you don’t know what you’re doing. Clenching around his cock like that, making those cute little noises that he can’t help but want to hear all the time, and then calling him that.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy.”

Forget igniting something within him; you whining for him, calling him something that’s the root cause of all his childhood traumas… That’s like dousing him with gasoline and tossing a lighter at him. He’s going to burn through all his energy, channel all this dark, feral energy, and use you as the one unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end.

He fucks into you so deeply that if your eyes weren’t shut tight, there’s no doubt that you wouldn’t see the unmistakable shape of his cock outlined against your tummy. The headboard is banging against the wall, and the squelching sounds of him roughly thrusting in and out of your sopping cunt is so lewd and so dirty that if you had any room to harbor a single ounce of shame, you would be downright embarrassed.

“How about you make me a daddy, huh? How about I fuck a baby in you?” He won’t lie and say it’s not something that’s never crossed his mind. The thought of your stomach round with a life the two of you created is enough to get him to continue with this near-brutal pace he’s set forth. “Doesn’t it sound nice, baby? My baby giving me a baby, what—” He grits his teeth as you tighten up. “—a fucking dream.”

“Baby. Wanna have your babies.” You cry out, tears spilling out and wetting your cheeks as your arms find their way to his neck and broad shoulders, trying to pull him in closer. The heat building up from within you feels like you’re about to fucking explode. “‘Gumi, I love you, Iloveyoupleasegimmeababy—'' Your words are practically unintelligible as you slur them out, the words sticking together as you cum all over his cock, all that pleasure that has been building up now physically tangible, if the white ring encasing his cock every time he pulls out is evidence.

“Fuck! You feel so fucking good. Always so fuckin’ tight.” He’s reaching his own end, and you’re just lying there, trying to recover from such an intense orgasm but unable to as your too sensitive walls clench around the constant intrusion of his cock. Spurred by your little love confession and his mind imagining his daydreams coming true — you, as his cute little housewife, taking care of the kids the two of you made together — he finally shoves himself as deep as he physically can, making sure that as he cums, nothing will spill out.

“‘Gumi.” You whisper, your head resting against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. “Did you mean it when you said you wanted to start a family?”

He’s silent for a minute.

“I wouldn’t mind starting a family with you.” And he means it. He knows this life isn’t one meant for children — look at how he turned out, for god’s sake — but he thinks that for you, he can do anything. Even make a family work out. As long as it’s what you want, he doesn’t mind how hard it may be.

You snuggle closer to him, burying your face in the warmth of his chest. “Good.” You mumble. “I wanna start a family with you, too.”

Megumi feels… at peace. Like he’s got the whole entire world in the palm of his hands. He wraps his arms around you, and realizes that no — right now, he’s got his world right in his arms.

Mahito likes to play with his food before he devours them whole.

Humans are just so… vulnerable. Even the coldest people have a heart; it’s only a matter of whether or not they find someone warm enough to defrost it. Megumi Fushiguro, for example, likes to walk around this world, acting indifferent and claiming to follow his own moral conduct, only to give himself the biggest weakness he could possibly harbor: you.

He still remembers that party. He still remembers the way you were dressed like a little slut, completely oblivious (or maybe you were just acting coy) to the wolfish stares all the guys were giving you. He had the same class as you. Seen the way you clung to Gojo’s charity case, as if the ground would swallow Megumi whole if you let go of him. You’re cute, and you scream naive virgin, and that’s precisely why Mahito wanted to take you to that bedroom and have his way with you.

And then, your infamous little guard dog bared his teeth and pummeled him into the hardwood of a stranger’s bedroom floor.

Grudges are cancerous. If you don’t deal with it right away, it develops into something worse. It takes over all your internal organs, ruining you ‘til the only thing you can focus on is getting revenge. And the longer you wait, the more vengeful you get. It doesn’t become a matter of ruined pride or reestablishing honor — it becomes about inflicting the most pain one possibly can. It becomes about suffering — about transferring your pain, your anguish, onto someone else.

Mahito isn’t the type to hold grudges, but for Megumi, he’ll make a special exception. He wants to see just how well trained the boy is; after all, he’s been taken under the wing and supervision of Satoru Gojo, the myth himself. Surely, his student must be nearly as skilled, right?

It’s been a long game of watching and waiting on Mahito’s end. A lot of lurking in the shadows and gathering intel. It’s a lot more boring than he anticipated, but today’s the day where all his hard work finally comes to fruition. Megumi Fushiguro is going to regret ever interfering with him that one fateful night. The burning humiliation he’s felt has long since fizzled out, but since he’s already been set on the path of orchestrating Megumi’s destruction, he figures it only makes sense to see it through. You only can let go of a grudge after you get your proper revenge.

He’s been leaving Megumi all sort of taunting, teasing threats any chance he gets. Mahito’s got nothing but disgraced yakuza members on his side; those who have committed acts vile enough to get them kicked out of what is essentially a group of criminals. He knows how to be twisted — hell, twisted might be the only thing he knows how to be.

Killing girls that resemble you and sending him the photos. Taking videos of you when you’re out in public alone. Leaving voicemails for Megumi, ones that leave him pale faced and unable to breathe as he listens to how Mahito wants to tortue you.

Megumi’s been on edge for the past few months, unable to explain to you why. It’s why you don’t understand why Megumi won’t let you go back to your car, even though you left your phone in there.

“I’ll go. Or, we can go together.”

“You have to wait for our coffee! And besides, I don’t even know where I left my phone. It might not even be in the car, but you’ll just waste your time searching for it if it’s not there.”

“So then why do you have to go look for it?”

“Because it’s my phone? Also, I reeeeeallly don’t wanna have to wait for our coffee, so I figured looking for my phone in the car would kill some time.” You give him that sweet smile of yours that he loves so much before waving him goodbye. “I’ll be back by the time our order is ready, pinky promise!”

At the end of the day, it’s all luck. Mahito realizes this as you happily skip out of the crowded cafe, headed towards your car to search for your phone. He doesn’t know why you’re returning back to your car, doesn’t even really care. All he knows and all he cares about is that you’re headed there alone. And while you’ve been alone plenty of times, he’s never had an opportunity quite like this one. A chance to finally detonate the bomb that’s been lying dormant underneath your car, ready to be activated at the press of a button. He could’ve killed you plenty of times already, but it’s not enough to merely murder you. He wants to make it a spectacle, sure, but he also only cares about one audience member watching: Megumi.

From where he’s hiding, blending in with the rest of the customers from the bakery across the street, he’s got a decent enough view of Megumi, who’s sitting by the glass windows, watching you with furrowed brows as you unlock the car door.

Mahito can’t help the cruel smile that spreads across his face as pushes the remote connected to the bomb.

Nobody expects to hear the loud, resounding boom of something exploding. The surrounding cars parked next to yours have their alarms going off like crazy; it’s nothing but high pitched, blaring noises blending together to create a disruptive harmony. People are screaming, someone is on the line with emergency services, and—

—your precious car is set aflame, reduced to a burning pile of scrap metal no salvage yard will take.

In this moment, Megumi Fushiguro’s world crumbles to ashes.

#megumi fushiguro x you #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #megumi x reader #angst #fluff #one shot #drabble #smut #megumi smut #jjk smut #jjk imagines #yakuza au #THIS IS SO OLD IM CRYING #like rereading it... omg what was i ON???

573 notes · View notes

hyewka · 9 months

Note

i seriously need some sub soob🫢

like imagine him squirming and whining because you ONLY kissed his red tip thats leaking precum ehishsisidjdd im going insaneeee

warnings; sub!soobin obvi, sort of pervy, best friends who fuck each other (fwb), puppy pet name, big dick soob, slapping ?? balls??, gets a boner from cleavage, soobin is extra sensitive down there and cums a lot

When Soobin invited you over to his dorm, you don’t exactly expect to have nothing but your phone to turn to as he simultaneously gets worked up over some video game he’s playing and ignores you all around. You should’ve guessed this was going to happen, but you’re bitter about it anyway.

Is it a crime to have thought that he was implying something else by inviting you over?

“I’m bored.” you whine for the umpteenth time, your thumb with no thought scrolling through your feed of posts you’ve already liked and reposted.

When he doesn’t even spare a glance, you scoff and resort to a kick at his back—which to your credit, gets him to adjust his headset and look back to you.

“Yeah?” he mouths, not having heard you before.

You can’t help but think he looked cute today, his pinkish lips and the hair over his eyes making him look even more of a puppy, but before you could even get a word out, his eyes suddenly widen at the faint yell you could hear from his headset, immedietley turning around has he aggresively spams buttons on his controller in panic.

“Holy shit dude, get off my ass I looked away for one—”

You groan into his pillow, making sure to make it as dramatic as possible, proceeding to sulk right after. This was not a productive use of your time. Fifty entire minutes of laying on his bed as he plays a video game. The switch out of your sport bra for a push up right before you came over really is doing nothing for you right now.

When you hear a string of curses spilling out of his mouth, you look over your shoulder curiously and see that his screen was in spectator mode. “You lost?”

He groans, taking off his headset completely, his mic muted. “Mhm, got killed. What’s up though?”

You take note of the screaming now louder from his headphones. Probably at him for getting eliminated. You don’t let him be though, exhaling dramatically looking back to your phone, “What’s up is your bestest, number one, most treasured, hottest friend is horny, sexually frustrated, and bored out of their mind.”

Soobin chokes on practically nothing at the casual mention of you being horny. It’s dumb, like he’s a middle school boy with no experience.

He really was not used to the ‘thing’ between you guys, like, at all. The stolen kisses (which is to be noted very quickly turn into full blown makeout sessions) when no one’s looking, the occasional need to send pics of his hard on to you, slight panic and regret settling in when he sees the ‘read’ receipt with no sign of a response for an entire five minutes (are you not in the mood? did you hate it? will you stop what you guys have going on?), or even the late night calls when you decide to facetime him instead of responding to his blurry nudes through text, and then…well, phone sex seemed to be a normal standard of your friendship. Weirdly enough.

Even if by now you’ve fucked him well over a few times that a mere mention of feeling horny shouldn’t have gotten him as flustered as it just did. But it’s so sudden, the shift from being friends who strongly, and vehemently denied of the secretly dating rumors to…secretly fucking.

“Oh yeah?” comes out a lot more in a loser way than he intended because he basically chokes it out. He’s never been nervous around you, save for the beginning of your friendship.

You’re very much aware of how unjusted Soobin is to the sudden change in your dynamic. Even you think it’s odd that the person you end up texting when you get…needy is Soobin.

Soobin was never the guy you’d think of starting anything even remotely sexual with.

You’ve known him since the years of being taller than him, and you’ve come to learn about his many deep faults along with gross habits you would never let fly under the radar if from someone else, so for him to be the exact type of man you’ve been seeking lately in bed is, well, surprising.

He seems to be the only person who can satisfy you nowadays. But you try not to show it too much, basking much more in how easily he gets flustered. It’s adorable.

“Yeah,” you sigh, shifting position from your stomach to your back and after much contemplation, deciding to take the chance of sitting up straight, “Did you really invite me over to watch you game? You know I don’t play video games.”

You don’t miss the way his eyes trail down, for sure because your chest was in full view now, his tongue prodding out just a tiny bit to wet his lips, almost like out of instinct. That dog. You show a bit of cleavage and he’s already drooling.

To be fair, it is the exact reaction you were fishing out of him. So you’re definitely not complaining.

You end up stifling a laugh, to which he immediately catches like he’s been trained to know your laughs on cue, breaking him out of his daze—an awkward coughing fit delayed a few seconds after to distract from the fact that he thinks he might’ve been caught, blush quickly warming his cheeks. “You think they’re silly, yeah, I know.

“But they’re—they’re not!” he splutters out, “I thought if you watched me play with Beo—”

“Were you just staring at my tits?” you cut him off with half the ability to not just start laughing. It’s worth seeing Soobin’s eyes widen like a cartoon character.

“No!” he says immediately— the crack of his voice doing nothing to help you keep a straight face. See? Adorable.

Then he huffs out a scoff like he’s surprised you’d ever accuse of him of such scandalous behavior. “Just because we fuck doesn’t mean I want to do you every second of the day. I respect you.”

It’s like a game of your cocked brow calling bullshit (more on the fucking thing than respecting you) and him staring back just as intensely as if he truly was not just ogling at your chest. Okay then, fair enough. You’ll get him to break. And admit to it.

“So if I did this…” you unbutton one of the two buttons of your crop top, and your eyes intently watch the way he struggles to not watch your every movement, still keeping his eyes on your face.

Stubborn. You can work with that. He won’t last long.

You drag the unbuttoning of the second one, and when it finally pops out, it’s a full view of your cleavage, cool air of the A.C being the cause of the goosebumps appearing.

And you’re right. He doesn’t last long. Barely even five seconds.

“My eyes are up here idiot.”

He doesn’t even try to hide the blushing anymore, once again licking his lips. You can see the bob of his adam apple when he finally meets your eyes. “Can I see your tits?” he says—the shame of asking is something that overtime became a numbing feeling, because with each time you casually lift your shirt at his request, the easier it gets to push down the feeling of being a pervert.

You break into a wide grin at how easy and straightforward he was—a passing thought of hoping he’s not like, like this for every living thing with fatty tissue on their chest. It’s not jealousy, god no, but it’s better if this was only between you two… for safety reasons?

You pretend to ponder on it but he should know by now that the enjoyment you get out of teasing him is way greater than any feeling.

You decide on what you’ll say, an evil smirk making way. “Am I just a pair of breasts Soobin? Just for you to ogle at? I thought you respected me.”

He shuts his eyes, whining at seeing that his words were very quick to bite him in the ass. “Please. You know I’ll be good.” he whispers the last few words and that has an affect on you. Big one.

Because he isn’t lying. Soobin’s very obedient. And god, you love it. So much.

But you don’t show that, you never do—letting him chase after something for once. Maybe if he gets a little more desperate, you’d think about a quick flash. “You have plenty of my nudes saved, can’t you jerk off to those? Y’know, like you usually do.”

Is it fair to make a jab at the occasional, every so often muffled voice messages in response to even just a slightly revealing picture that you’re asking him the opinion of, where you could hear his unstable breathing and the wet sounds of his pre cum covered shaft? Probably not, especially when you also get off of pics he’d unknowingly send to be the most delicious, mouth watering photo you’ve seen yet.

Soobin, on the other hand, is like, sure he’d go insane. Ever since he was allowed to look at you in the not-only-friends way, he took up every chance you dangled in front of him like a dog with a bone. Showing a little bit of your cleavage? His mind’s running to images. Just thinking of kissing and sucking until your tits go sore makes him so shamelessly a pervert. Seeing the head of his cock disappear between your tits when you took it upon yourself that one day of giving him a taste of what a titty fuck was like—god, it’s forever embedded into his memory.

He still sulks over the fact that you didn’t let him take a video.

Suddenly his well fitted sweats have easily become the most suffocating piece of clothing, his bulge shy of peaking through the fabric and making an obvious imprint. He tries to not look like a sore desperate loser, to look just a tiny bit cooler, but you make it so hard that he’s willing to get on his knees. Like seriously.

You’re back on your phone, looking to be disinterested which makes him bite the insides of his cheeks—already overthinking. Were you mad that he asked to see?

He tentatively puts a hand on your ankle, gauging at least some sort of reaction. You give him that—a glance. “Sorry if like, um— I didn’t invite you just for games obviously— well, okay not ‘obviously’ but I, uh, also don’t think you’re like, a floating pair of…breasts or something.” You cock a brow, really curious of where this Soobin ramble of the day would go.

“You’re my bestest friend—is that corny to say? Shit, well, you are and I think you’re smart, and obviously really funny, and bright and so pretty, like, really pretty and I mean—”

“Soobin where the fuck are you?”

You both look at the headset next to him on the bed, the yelling loud enough to transcend the reason the product was made anyway. He looks back to you and you could tell he intends on finishing his monologue. “And I mean—” he starts again before cursing under his breath at the second time he gets cut off.

“Fucking cuck, are you ignoring us?”

He groans at the stupid item, as if it just ruined a critical moment. Then he looks back at you apologetically. God, he hopes you don’t leave. “Um, well I have to keep playing they’d kill me if—” he panics a little trying to explain but you’re on another train of thought entirely, thinking that this was perfect timing.

“It’s okay, keep playing!” You say, practically gleaming.

His facial expression is a mix of skeptical confusion and desperation. But instead of questioning your enthusiasm, he bites down on his lip for a second. “You—you won’t leave, right? Don’t leave. Please.”

You shake your head, mouthing an ‘I won’t’ and finally, he lets out a breath of relief he didn’t know he was holding in.

He doesn’t know why he’s so desperate for you to stay. It’s not like you don’t see each other, like every day of the week or even call each other when you somehow don’t. But regardless he wants you to stay, and he doesn’t mind coming off desperate for once.

The situation at hand is too obviously right in your face.

His ramble that was cut off short by who you made out to be none other than Beomgyu, and then Heeseung was…kind of sweet.

No, it was sweet. He thinks you’re really pretty? Not just pretty but really pretty. And smart? And funny? He’s so cute holy shit you could just reach out to pinch his rosy cheeks. But you didn’t and you probably won’t. Because something else caught your attention.

His bulge.

It was too…out there for you to not subtly look down every few filler word Soobin mumbled. You’re not sure what got him to pop a full blown boner. The teasing? You only said a few sentences and showed modest reveal of your boobs. But nevertheless, you try really hard to bite away a smile because holy shit, he really is easy.

And it fucking turns you on. More than it should. And more than it would if it was any other person.

If you felt horny before, you were basically drenched when getting a glimpse of his wide eyes at seeing you on the carpet, on your knees as you’re face to face with his crotch. He seems to freeze for a second before he quickly works to get his headset off, trying to abandon the game completely.

“No.” you say sternly, grabbing his dick through his sweats, “Keep playing.”

He mouths a big ‘what’, nearly whisper shouting, his eyes bulging out. You simply shrug, feeling all too smug, and start to palm him over the fabric. He lets out a sigh of pleasure, shutting his eyes.

“Dude, why the hell are you not moving? Fuck’s wrong with Soobin today?” You hear someone yell.

“If you stop, I stop.” You mouth slowly, and he seems to catch it, hands shaking as he reluctantly picks his controller up again.

“You’re evil.”

To that, you give him a smile, not really denying it. Because maybe you were, knowing how sensitive he is.

You hope Soobin’s mic is as shitty as you’ve heard Hueningkai complain a multitude of times, because if not, he’ll have a very hard time on call with his friends from now on. Or maybe not. Maybe it’s a bragging point to have a girl suck you off while playing video games.

You imagine it’d still be a bit awkward anyway.

“How come you’re so big?” you whisper, more to yourself than him, but he catches it, and still reacts, bucking his hips to your touch, groaning. You click your tongue, pushing him down with one hand, as a warning.

“Don’t move. Don’t take your hands off the controller. And don’t make a sound.” It doesn’t take him long before he nods, obediently fixating his eyes on the tv screen.

You coo at how hard he narrows his eyes, thumbs working its action—but you want him to break. Maybe you really are evil.

And maybe he already was breaking.

He spreads his legs more and more, before lifting his ass off the mattress, already impatiently needy.

“Touch me.” he whispers, only for you to hear.

You raise a brow, huffing out a laugh as you decide that maybe you should stop playing around and pull his sweats down to his ankles. You don’t waste a second to.

When you take in the state of his cock, your mouth could water just at how pretty it looks. You’ve seen it well over a dozen times—over pics, over facetime, in real life, but you’re never not in awe each time. His slit was already bubbling precum, the thickness of his dick eye widening— It’s not like you have small hands either, and yet you still can’t fully wrap your hand around him. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to his size.

And god his tip was swollen red you’re sure if you just so briefly touched it he’d spasm and jizz all over your face. So you’re gentle. Or at least, you make an attempt.

Promptly grabbing his dick again, you could feel him grow heavier when you let it sit on your hand for a second. Soobin sighs into his mic, no doubt briefly catching the attention of his friends.

“Soobin, you’re dripping.” you comment, eyes following the trail of cum running down his length to your hand. It’s more in amusement, how he’s basically on the verge of an orgasm without much from you.

You could tell he’s using his last bits of patience to not just outright fuck into your fist, and it fascinates you. You start slowly dragging your hand on his shaft, made easier to navigate with his ridiculous amount of pre cum working as lube.

You watch as he adjusts his position subtly a few times, knowing that he’s trying to keep from slipping out any whines, pursing his lips. But his eyes betray him, they looked distant—not focused. “How many kills?” you ask.

“Zero.”

You furrow your brows, pouting as you still your hands. “I’ll speed up with each kill. You have to win for me puppy or I’ll get sad.”

Soobin doesn’t know exactly how he’d aim let alone manage a kill with the way you grip the base of his cock, but he knows that despite the sincerety of your words, he doesn’t like to think that you’d get sad. He so badly wants to make you proud in some way, happy with that glint in your eyes.

So, he gets a kill.

You hear the comments from his friends, passing compliments and you smile, slowly working your hand. “Got a kill.” he says under his breath, trying his hardest to not fall into the urge of shutting his eyes. Because god, you were good.

“Yeah? For me? Get another one puppy.”

A new fire ignites in his chest as he spams buttons, yearning to hear a praise slip from your lips. The way he knits his eyebrows in concentration and had his tongue peeking out was so adorable you almost lose control. Almost.

His breathing picks up as he says, “Another one.”

You get the confirmation he’s saying the truth by his friends again and you start moving your hand unfathomably fast as a reward, your hand getting sticky. “Gooood boy, getting all the kills.”

The sudden speed gets to Soobin, faltering his streak as he holds back choked up groans, head quickly becoming light. “Too much, too much.” he whispers, soft moans slipping through his breathing. You catch the way his hands loosen its grip on the controller and you smirk.

He’s way too easy to break.

“Too much? Should I stop?”

He shakes his head again, this time more frantic. You could make out the sparkly tears threatening to spill—you’re all too familiar with this. “Please don’t.”

“Then what? What do you want me to do?” you ask slowly, wet sounds of your hand working at his dick so dirty.

“Mouth,” he sighs, not controlling the way his hips buck into your hands despite your disapproval. “Want you to put it in your mouth.”

You almost laugh—your mouth? Last time, he barely lasted a second. You’re not doing that. But you’ll tease him about it regardless.

“Put what in my mouth?”

He doesn’t waste a breath. “Cock. My cock.”

You’re not even sure if he muted his mic by now, but the way he says it in that needy, desperate broken voice is so sinful you’re surprised you haven’t jumped his bones. Too bad you won’t give him what he wants—or at least not completely.

You rub your thumb over the head of his dick, dribbles of pre-cum still messily spurting from his slit. He’s not paying attention to the game—no, his eyes were focused entirely on you. You would scold him, but you’re entirely too aroused by the way his mouth basically waters in anticipation.

You maintain eye contact when you dip your head down slowly, an experimental kitten lick on his tip and he immediately thrusts his hip, dick slipping past your lips. You pull back, expecting that exact reaction—and he whimpers. Whimpers.

It’s not hard to pick up on the screaming from his headset, his friends clearly pissed off that hes been in the same spot for well over a minute now, becoming an easy kill to enemies on the other team. “Puppy, how come you’re losing? I thought you were doing well.”

Before he could respond, you tighten your grip on his shaft, and he groans, trying to bite down the noise—maybe he didn’t mute it after all. It’s almost animalistic how he chases your hand.

But you’re not as forgiving now—misbehaving boys get punished. You lick the underside of his dick, dragging the flatness of it up to his head, saltiness of his pre-cum overpowering your tastebuds before pulling back to see Soobin has basically abandoned the game, head thrown back as both his hands grip the sheets under him, letting out broken pitched moans.

You smile, knowing you gave him the impression that you’d put him in your mouth. No, you’re here to have your fun. He peeks through an eye at feeling you do nothing more, and the moment he does, you slap—hard. Maybe a tad bit harder than you intended.

Your aim was his nutsack, balls full of cum you could see he was holding from the week you’ve challenged him to not jerk off, and god—the way his eyes fly open, jaw slacking as his legs spasm, letting out a sound you’ve never heard a man make— you wonder why you haven’t done this sooner.

“You didn’t get off like I told you to right? Good puppy.” He nods frantically, his vision fogging.

He looks so broken, tears streaming down his cheeks faster than you could even take notice of. If his friends didn’t hear him before, they definitely heard him now. He’s a hiccuping mess, nose running when you decide to give him a little more, swirling your tongue around his tip, warm in your mouth— then you pull back before he loses control and starts fucking your mouth.

“Puppy can’t talk? Your friends know how much of a whore you are now…isn’t that embarrassing?” you coo, your hand still jerking him off. “What would they say knowing you’re my little mutt, obeying each and every word like a dog in heat?”

The words are getting to him. He tried to keep quiet for the sake of his pride— anyone knowing how desperate he gets for you is a hit to his ego, it’s embarrassing the amount of things he’d do just for a chance of eating you out, but this spurs him on— having you degrade him, telling him what exactly he is to you. Your obeying dog.

You could see his lips quivering, and notice the tensing of his body. Quickly, you part your hair to the side, take him in your mouth all the way, trying to relax your throat as to not gag when your nose finally presses against his abdomen—but of course you do, it’s hard not to with how thick he is. It doesn’t take a milisecond before you feel his load spilling down your throat, his big hands moving to hold the back of your head, orgasm crashing down like waves of the pacific came over him.

You stay there for a few more seconds, feeling yourself get lightheaded with how much he manages to cum, and even when you pull away with a need to take a deep breath, you see that his dick was still spurting little bits. “Holy shit.” you say under your breath, slightly coughing as you wipe away at the semen that managed to dribble down your chin.

Soobin had a lot stored.

Soobin falls backwards on the bed, chest heaving up and down, trying to catch his breath, some of his hair plastered to his forehead and his temple. There’s a lot of thoughts spinning in his head. And he doesn’t exactly know how to label them. Lazily, he takes his headset off, throwing it to god knows where.

“Hey. Question.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you fuck other people?”

You perk up at the question, the randomness making you stay silent for a bit until you shrug. “No, not really.”

Soobin sighs. He doesn’t know why. Was it relief? Maybe. Probably.

“Do you?” you ask it almost timidly, unknowingly playing with the threads of your ripped jeans. Thank god to Soobin because he answers quickly, not allowing for any space of anxiousness.

“No. Only you.”

You slowly nod, pursing your lips. “Cool.”

“Yeah, very cool,” then his brows furrow at a thought popping up in his head, “Wait, do you like,”

You raise your brows. “Do I what?”

“Like, you know, suck off other guys?”

You scoff, he’s so ridiculous. You don’t even get to see his reaction to your answers, as you’re sitting on the floor and his back is on the mattress. “No Soobin, I don’t suck off other guys. Well, not as of recently. You’re the only one I’ve been doing this with.”

“Oh, o-okay.” You snort at the cute stutter.

Too bad you don’t catch the small ‘good’ he says under his breath.

note: when i checked the word count I was so shocked we’re keeping that a secret 😭 appreciate any feedback!

#txt smut #soobin smut #sub!soobin #sub!idol #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #soobin hard thoughts #soobin hard hours

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ashdreams2023 · 3 months

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The new Umbrella Academy season is coming out and we need some Five content with his new look 😍. Anything okay including hurt/ comfort and fluff.

God why am I so slow nowadays but yes of course I love five 😩✋

Five hargreeves x reader

Better

He sat sipping on his hot cappuccino sitting on his table outside the cafe, it was still far from lunch break for employees and he was enjoying the emptiness of the place.

"Hello stranger" Ah it seems like like the quietness has gone all of a sudden, he looks up through his sunglasses and smirks lazily at you.

"You’re late" he says.

You tilted your head "And you changed…how long has it been?" You sat down across from him.

"Three years" He sipped on his cup "I didn’t know what you’ll like so I didn’t order anything for you"

"Three years ha? You’re taller now…also I like the new hairstyle, suits you more than the side bang" you chuckled. He sighed and looked at you, really looked at you.

"I would be lying if I said I haven’t missed your awful teasing" He says cooly.

"You also ditched ditched the shorts for good it seems I thought you were loyal to those things and the long pants were just a bit phase"

Five clicked his tongue "Don’t tempt me I still have a pair stocked away"

"No! The horror of skinny exposed knees!"

"Shut up"

"Love you too"

Eventually you two ordered lunch, the place buzzed with life shortly after, you couldn’t help but admires the changes, if someone had told you this is how he’ll look in a few years you would’ve laughed in their face.

Five, your only five now not dressed as some retired middle age man nor in a school uniform, but now in a nice tailored vest with longer hair that actually looked stylish and not annoyingly gelled.

"Liking the view?" He said in a sarcastic tone.

"Maybe…maybe I want to see what else has changed while I was gone" You smirked playfully resting your cheek on the middle of your palm.

He rubs his tongue around his mouth then pushes his plate away and leans closer on the table "Wouldn’t you like to know?"

"Would you like to show me Mr hargreeves?" You bit your lip leaning closer to him.

Five licked his from upper teeth then leaned back on his chair before grabbing his beverage and chugging it in one go "I haven’t seen you in three years and the first thing you want to do is ruin my look? How classical of you"

You shrugged "can’t blame me can you?"

He sighed before reaching his hand to yours "I missed you" he says bringing your knuckles to his lips "I missed us, I missed seeing your face, hearing your voice and being with you everyday" your heart raced with longing, it was the same for you, you’ve missed him so much but this was a new life, he needed his freedom before going back to you.

"Do you think we can still be the same?" You asked with desperation in your tone.

Five shook "not the same as before but better, better than we can ever imagine…it’s weird saying this after being this old"

"It’s ok old man, I still love you"

"Does that mean I’m given permission to take you back home?"

"Absolutely, but I want dessert first"

"You and your priorities"

#five hargreeves x you #five x y/n #five hargreaves x reader #five hargreeves x reader #five x reader #five the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #five headcanons #five hargreaves x you #netflix the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy

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nyxoz · 1 year

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When you and Eddie are 9, he falls off the monkey bars at school and breaks his arm. You sit with him and hold his good hand while the teachers call an ambulance. He looks up at you with big brown tearful eyes and a sniffle and says “Don’t leave me.” You hold his hand tighter and shake your head, “I won’t.” You say.

When Eddie gets his cast on you’re the first person to sign it. You write your name with a little heart next to it in red marker. “Do you think I can get Stacey Carmichael to sign it?” Eddie asks. You frown a little and your tummy feels weird at the thought. Stacey is in the grade above you and she’s the coolest girl in school. “Dunno” you shrug before Mr. Munson calls from the living room to tell you your parents are here to take you home.

When Eddie is 11 he starts a band called Corroded Coffin. You think it’s a funny name but Eddie tells you that it’s really metal. You tell the boys they should enter the middle school talent show and they do. They come 4th but Eddie is so happy that he picks you up and spins you around even though you’re taller than him. “You didn’t even win!” You laugh as he spins you, “I don’t care, that was so fun!”

When you and Eddie are 12, you fall off your bike riding down the big hill near the trailer park. You scrap your knees and chin and you’re crying all messily. “Eddie! It hurts!” You sob as Eddie holds your face in his little hands to look at your chin. “I know. Let me go get Uncle Wayne!” And then Eddie runs as fast as you’ve ever seen back to the trailer to get Mr. Munson who comes speeding down with Eddie and a first aid kit in hand. “Okay, little miss, what have you done to yourself, hmm?” Eddie holds your hand while Mr. Munson patches you up.

When you’re 13, John Baker kisses you at the snowball dance while you’re slow dancing to a song you don’t know. It was okay but your mom’s lipstick you stole gets on his lips and he has to go to the bathroom to clean it off. “I kissed John!” You tell Eddie who is sitting on the bleachers looking bored. Eddie screws up his face “Yuck.” You frown, “I didn’t say it was yuck when you kissed Jessica Thompson!” You argue. “Did you use tongue?” Eddie asks. This time you screw up your face. “Gross! No!” Eddie shrugs, “Then it wasn’t a real kiss.” You don’t think that’s true.

When you and Eddie become freshman’s he joins a club called Hellfire and it’s all he talks about. “Our DM is so cool! He listens to Judas Priest just like me!” “The campaign is so fun!” “Look at the shirt that they gave us! I’m never taking it off.” He can’t hang out at lunch anymore because he sits with the Hellfire club and that makes you sad but you don’t tell him that. You’re just happy he’s happy.

When you reach sophomore year, you and Eddie agree that Friday nights are your dedicated nights to hang out. Eddie came to you at the end of freshman year saying he missed you and you were so happy you almost cried. You barely saw him anymore so now that you have a night just for you, you couldn’t be happier.

When Eddie turns 16 you surprise him with an audition at the hideout for Corroded Coffin to play every Tuesday night. It might just be a few drunks that heckle at them every gig, but Eddie literally tackles you onto his bed and almost squishes you in thanks. He’s bigger than you now.

When you and Eddie are 17, you’ve become somewhat of the band manager. You help them unpack and pack every night and Eddie usually drops you home after. The rest of the band have left and it’s just you and Eddie hauling the last of the equipment in the back when you almost fall out the back of the van. Eddie is underneath you in an instant, catching you bridal style. “You saved me.” You laugh as you hop down to your feet. Eddie doesn’t laugh, he just looks down at you “‘Course I did. I always will.” He says. It makes your stomach flutter and before you know it you’re leaning up and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. You pull away and stare up at him nervously watching as Eddie’s face breaks into a smile. “Y’know, it’s not a real kiss unless there’s tongue.” He says. You slap at his shoulder.

When you’re 17 and 6 months, you’re at Eddie’s trailer and Mr. Munson isn’t home. You’re in Eddie’s bed and you’re both in your underwear and under the covers. Eddie is kissing all over your face, “You sure you wanna? We don’t have to.” He asks for the millionth time. “Yeah, I’m sure.” You reassure him.

When you turn 18, Eddie gives you a little box. You open it and find his guitar pick necklace curled up in the soft velvet. “Eddie,” you gasp, “I can’t accept this. This is the most important thing to you.” Eddie pushes a piece of hair behind you ear and leans in close, “You’re the most important thing to me.”

When you and Eddie are 20, Eddie finally graduates high school. He runs up to you and Mr. Munson (‘Call me Uncle Wayne’ he told you a million times before) and picks you up and spins you around in his cap and gown. “You did it!” You cheer, giving him a loving kiss. He holds your face in his hands “I fucking did it.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #joseph quinn #oz writes #oz writes eddie munson #nxyoz

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berriwritertingz · 2 months

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the summer i wrote | one

content: future smut, fluff, angst, basically all of it

pairing: milo manheim x afab!reader & ross lynch x afab!reader

summary: every summer, you travel to dahlia's beach to reunite with your mother's closest friend and her son. but this year he unexpectedly brings a friend along. caught in the gentle waves of affection and longing, you find yourself navigating uncharted waters where the boundaries of friendship blur.

notes: this is loosely based on the summer i turned pretty. i just watched the second season and lawwwd i wanted to make a ff soo bad. plus milo and ross have absolutely none anywhere.

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You loved Dahlia's beach. It always smelled salty with a hint of expensive barbeque if you were in the city. But near the countryside there was the sweet smell of honeysuckle. That's where you would rather be, where the tall grass met the sandy dunes. The sounds of hooves on pavement and bustle around the farmers market on a hot weekend afternoon.

This summer was no different. Your stomach churned, rumbling in excitement as you neared the beach house. It was huge. Five bedrooms with enough bathrooms. Too many patios surrounding it. Turquoise colored pool with a small waterfall. The house was a blueish gray color with white accents. Calm and minimalistic, much unlike the other grand colorful houses on the street. It sat like a diamond around other stones in a non normal way. The most priceless of them all. Placed directly in front of the beach but not close enough to tourist spots so it was always quiet. It was always such an amazing way to spend the three months in between school. You looked forward to it every year.

But that wasn't all you looked forward to.

Your mom honked as you guys entered the driveway. A wide smile plastered on her face. Your mom seemed to love this place more than she loved you, even if she denied it when you asked. You knew the truth. Summers at the beach house were the only time she got to see her best friend, Camryn.

"Hey!" A voice squealed from the porch. You shuffled out of the car, legs aching after a long 5 hours. As you stretched you were met with Cam, arms spread jumping for joy. Practically knocking you over. They were best friends from high school. Going to college together and even sharing a dorm room. With how they acted every time they met, you were convinced they had separation anxiety. They didn't get to see each other throughout the year. Other than here of course. For they lived states apart, Dahlia's being a quiet beach town that was located in the middle.

Camryn engulfed you in a bear hug first, gushing about how pretty you are. Making you do a spin in your dress. Once she pulled away she did the same to your mom whose high pitched voice could be heard from the beach. As they talked about how ‘different’ each other looked. You watched as they walked inside hand in hand when your eyes met his.

Milo.

He radiantly smiled as he trotted over to you. The classic hands in pockets, ruffled hair, and expensive glasses. It was like he had a glow up every year whether it was him dressing better or maybe getting a bit taller.

"Hi" He cooed embracing you in a tight hug. The smell of his overpriced cologne filled your nose. It reminded you of sugary trees and cool waves. Much like the beach house. He was another reason you loved the beach house so much. Without him you were stuck with two middle aged ladies whose celebrity crush was Liam Neeson and only watched tv shows made by Shonda Rhimes. He was fun. He never made you feel left out or alone. He was everything any girl could wish for. Tall, smart, rich, and incredibly good eye candy.

"Hello, Milo." You smiled as he let you go.

He ran a hand threw his hair looking down at you. Eyes trailing down your body strangely. His expression was unrecognizable. Your face heated up turning your head to avoid his gaze. He touched the bottom of your dress. Yanking the fabric gently.

"This is a little short isn't it?" He questioned eyes meeting yours. Lips curled up in a sly smile. Rolling your eyes you scoffed slapping his hand away. He acted like a big brother sometimes. Especially with your clothes. Every summer complaining about how short your shorts were or how revealing your bathing suit was.

"Oh shut up you do this every-" The sight of someone else on the porch caught your eye. "Who's that?" You questioned raising an eyebrow.

Milo turned around and nodded in acknowledgement as the boy made his way down the stairs. Bleached blond hair slightly overgrown and wide smile on display as he made his way towards you two.

"Y/N this is Ross, Ross Y/N. He's staying the summer with us this year." Ross reached his hand out to you. Clad in silver rings that looked a bit out of your price range. Does Milo have any Middle Class friends? It was unusual. No one ever came to the beach house from back home. It was like a unsaid rule between everyone. Written in big red letters 'No Strangers'. The dads didn't even bother coming even though Milo's paid for it.

"Nice to meet you." He looked you up and down a tongue swiping over his lips. "Milo didn't tell me how pretty you are."

"Dude!" Milo exclaimed punching his shoulder rolling his eyes.

"Thank you." You beamed softening your voice. Milo scoffed walking towards the trunk slightly bumping into Ross. But he didn't seem to mind, hazel eyes still trained on you.

"So where are you fr-" Ross was cut off by a slightly pissed off Milo. "Are you guys serious? C'mon Ross help me with these bags." Ross walked away backwards eyes still focused on you with that addicting smile of his.

"See you inside?" He whispered loud enough for you to hear him.

You didn't respond. Only nodding as you strolled inside.

a/n: soooo what do you guys think? im still trying to figure out this tumblr writing stuff im so used to just reading ive never written and posted anything on here lololol. pls be patient with me! a few tips and tricks would be greatly appreciated!!

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haruchi-slit · 19 days

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PERSONAL CUM-SLUT!

synopsis: Geto Suguru is your college bully and to make things worst your boyfriend messed up so Suguru wants you.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════════ ⋆★⋆ ════ ⋆★⋆ ════════ ⋆★⋆ ═══════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You were walking in the school hallways, minding your own busines, you stride to your locker- grabbing your books inside.

while grabbing your books you heard a voice from your side you almost yelped when you saw Geto towering you, "awh look at her, with her stupid, stupid glasses-" Suguru says while pressing his index finger to your forehead over and over again. you slapped his finger and hand away then gave him a frown "what do you want?"

you stared at him with fury in your eyes ready to pounce him down, but nevermind he's twice taller than you. Suguru's been making your life living hell since middle school and you'd like to punch him for that, does he have reasons?

yes.

he just wants to destroy your innocence, your purity and he loves it when your face turns into a huge frown, "tryna study again i see, four eyes?" "Fuck you!" you said and turned to him then slapped your locker's door on to his face "ouch-!" he reached his face with his hand to soothe the pain, "bet you'd like that yeah?" he says with a smug look, a blush rose from your cheeks as you're trying not to cringe at what he said, "ugh fuck yourself Suguru!" you said slamming your locker's door once again to his face "wha- fuck that hurts!" he screamed, you quickly shut your locker and walked away as fast a you can, Suguru tried to catch up but before he could catch up to you, you were already gone.

'fuck,fuck,fuck,fuck,fuck' you chanted inside your head as your blush across your cheeks worsen as you walked away, you went straight to the rooftop after seeing Geto, is no where to be found you tip-toed up stairs making sure no one's following you.

You opened your books and angel sat on the cloth you've brought, you spanned it on the rooftop's floor, you positioned near the railings cause you liked the view there and the air's refeshing too. you placed your glasses on top of your head and started reading your textbooks.

you should've enjoyed the silence while it lasted, cause suguru guessed that you'd be at the rooftop and he was right, you were so focused that you didn't felt suguru was behind you, he squated down to your level right next to your ear, "Found you." he whispered, which caused you to turn your head to your shoulder,

and fuck you almost kissed you backed away with wide eyes, you can feel you heart beat fast as you looked into his chocolate hazel eyes.

"S-Stop staring at me Suguru, Dumbass!" you said with mixed fury and nervousness, even though you backed away you two are still inches from each others mouth, Suguru raised his eyebrows "you're the one's staring honey" your move stiffined as he spoke in a low groan, you can't lie even though he made your life miserable, he's fucking hot (can't blame you girl) "Can you not!" you screamed putting your glasses back to the bridge of you nose, damn your eyes widen much more, you're fucked up and he likes it.

"Can you not" he mocks while moving his hand to mimic your mouth movements,

You stood up, backing away completely,

"Why are you like this Suguru! you've literally ruined my life since middle school what on earth do you what huh?" you'd snap, you just couldn't take it anymore you just want a peace and quiet study time but this man won't leave you alone! And for some shit he's been doing it for the last years! what on heaven, hell and earth does this guy wants?

"You really wanna know huh?" he groans slowly standing up, approaching your figure until you bumped on the sturdy concrete wall,

"You. I want you." he whispers narrowing his eyes up and down on your body "and I'll do whatever it takes to make you mine wether you like it. or not." your breathe hitched as your blush spreads across you cute face. you pushed him away and quickly grabbed your stuff that's laying on the floor before running downstairs, the man watched your worried look as he chuckled.

The next day...same as before study study study. you thought it'd be "just a normal day" but it was far from what you we're expecting.

"I want your petty little girlfriend, or you're fucked." Suguru says holding your boyfriend's bloody face, squishing his cheeks roughly, "you can't even treat her well." he adds, intensifing his grip on the boy's face

"so 'm taking her."

"Yes, yes she's yours! 'm sorry 'm sorry!" your boyfriend plead "I won't do it again just please-!" "Good boy haha" Suguru laughs with Satoru as he kicked your boyfriend to the ground,

"Text her to come to the rooftop after her last subject!" Suguru shouts as he walked away.

Meanwhile... you're attending your last subject for the day, suddenly, Ding. Ding. Ding.

you received a message from who? you asked your self, you took a peak on your phone.

Boyfie💝: where are you?!

Boyfie💝:are you in class?

Boyfie💝:if you are, come to the rooftop after that, please.

you bit the inside of your cheek as you put your phone down, confused. you tried to focus on what your professor was teaching and after your class you rushed to put your things away in your locker before going to your universities rooftop

you opened the door and it was practically empty. Just you, your boyfriend and Suguru Geto..you walked in very confused on why's Geto here, "Oh look she's here, tell her now" Suguru spoke as he playfully nudge your boyfriend's "I messed up, I'm sorry" your boyfriend says with his head down, you are very confused.

"what do you mean!" you asked, "He messed up and now you're paying for it." you heard Suguru talk, "WHAT?" "I said your boyfriend messed up so you're paying for his foolishness." repeats "Be my slave and your boyfriend's gonna be safe and sound" he adds

you gulped down so hard you swore it was like swallowing a damn rock, "Y/n please..." your boyfriend begs, "you have no choice" Suguru says with a smug smirk. Goodness.

"Fine, i'll be your slave!" he approached you and whispered, "cumslave." Suguru corrects, "WHAT! NO!" "Then I'm telling the principal to expell your boyfriend then" he backs out, before shruging his shoulders. you couldn't speak nor move you clenched you fist in to a ball then fixing your glasses.

Suguru pushed your boyfriend, "You're good now. Leave." Suguru says to your boyfriend, your boyfriend quickly stood up and ran away,

"did he said his breaking up with you?" he says infront of your sour face, that soon turned into a shocked figure, Suguru whips his phone out showing you a video, it was your boyfriend making out with some girl.

"He was using you" You almost cried but not now cause you're fucked! Suguru grabs the opportunity to grab you and lead you to the locker room. he closed the door behind as you sat down in the bench, your tears dropped down unconsciously as you clenched your thighs harshly that it turned to red.

"Are you seriously crying instead of taking revenge or something?"

Now here you are, denying at first then giving in later, your legs sparwled lustfully on air as Suguru flicked your sopped pussy with your ass stuffed with toys, fucking you so good in the Universities locker room, "S'guru s-too much-!" you moaned softly, as Suguru teased your clothed tits, he latched his mouth to your cunt making you arch your back in pleasure as you balled your hands with a fistful of his hair, he grinds the bridge of his nose to your puffy cunt making you insane, "too much, too much too-" you were cut off as the locker room's door swung open, Suguru swiftly grabbed you inside a empty locker.

fuckfuckfuckfuck! you'd chant in the back of your head as you're currently pressed to Suguru's chest, and his hard on, both of your breathing went uneven as the people that was in the locker room was half a meter away from the locker you and Suguru's in, your dripping cunt was exposed to thin air and Geto Suguru takes advantage of that to it's limits he glides his hand to your clitoris making you yelp suddenly, the people inside the locker room went SILENT, you quickly covered your mouth hoping they wouldn't find the two of you.

"Guys do you heard that?" the guy asked

"Yeah, but probably that's just the wind" the other guy said. "we probably should get going now." the girl said they all agreed as they walked to the exit.

after the people walked out, he lays you on the bench once again as he spreads you legs.

"soo wet, you're such a slut aren't you?" your breath went uneven, he unbuckled his slacks letting it hang around his waist revealing his angry pink tip, he teased your entrance flicking your clit using his cock before entering your cunt, your legs trembled.

"we almost got caught and your pussy drippin' wet?" he watches how his cock got easily devoured by your gummy walls

"fuck-! you're soo tight." he says trying to buck his hips on you, he stretched your leg to your shoulder so you can adjust and take his dick right "take it like a slut, fuck whore" he say before moving in a inhuman speed, he watched your boobs recoil up and down and it turns him on so much "fix your glasses so you can see how I can fuck you good" you obelige, you were surprised that your glasses stayed on even how fast Suguru thrusts. you were a moaning mess, you can feel him penetrating your womb over and over again, your climax was sooner than he expected, after you came he quickly followed. your cunt was stuffed with his thick ropes of cum, some of it was on your hair and abdomen, "fuck" he breathes heavily, catching his breath.

after coming down from your high he stood you up and helped you clean your mess,

"Slap your ex-boyfriend once you see him I got your back." he says smiling softly.

a/n: so ha...ha...ha i hope this doesn't flops it has 1.7k word in it please dear lord.. anyways hope you enjoyed this...i was 2 days late but atleast! PLS DON'T FLOP! the fic's too long so I had to cut it out, and as far as i can remember i scrapped this fic more than 4 times I'm not exaggerating it

#jjk #haruchi-slit #jjk smut #smut #jjk headcanons #haruchi slit #jjk polls #suguru smut #suguru x reader #geto suguru #geto suguru x you #jjk suguru #getou suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen suguru #PLEASE DON'T FLOP!#PLEASE I BET OF YOU!

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minastras · 1 year

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dear stranger, do you remember me too? // sunghoon

When you were sixteen, you betrayed Park Sunghoon. Or he betrayed you. Whichever it was, you knew two things for sure: 1) kids were cruel, and 2) you would spend the rest of your life trying to make up your mind. Well, until you saw him again. It was a strange feeling, meeting him in the flesh even though his ghost had been haunting you for three years.

at a glance: childhood friends to strangers to lovers, reformed bad boy! sunghoon, university au, pure angst (i received High Level Clearance from @end-hyphen to put him through the wringer sorry), ft. hyung line

words: 12.3k

warnings: swearing, mild mentions of blood, sexual harassment, and fights (nothing serious), alcohol and cigarette use

——————————

For as long as you could remember, Park Sunghoon had been the centre of your solar system, the axis around which your universe revolved. You’d known him since the day you were born. You lived on the same street, four houses apart, and as the only two kids in the area you naturally bonded instantly with each other. He was your best friend, your confidant, your partner in crime.

As soon as you both were no taller than his coffee table, you spent nearly every day together at the playground behind your street, running through the neighbourhood blowing bubbles and chasing butterflies.

“Do you think we could both fit on the same swing?” You could still hear your voice, light and flowery back then, asking.

“Let’s find out,” his equally childish voice rang back, before he yanked you into his lap and struggled to get enough leverage with his feet to push you both off the ground.

That ended with you tumbling out of the swing and onto the tarmac just by the playground, scraping your knee. You both must’ve been only five years old then, but you didn’t cry, instead stubbornly getting to your feet and ignoring the blood trickling down your calf until you were back in the privacy of your living room.

He had carried you home on his back, even though you could walk just fine, and sat you down on the sofa while he cleaned your broken skin with a tissue.

“You can cry if you want,” he had said simply, in that innocent manner only kids have.

You were with him all the way through kindergarten to middle school to high school. Neither of you had many friends; you were both quiet and shy and somewhat rough around the edges. But that didn’t matter, because you had each other.

As you grew from toddlers to precocious children to teenagers, you continued spending nearly every day together. When you weren’t glued to each other’s sides in school, he was spending the night at your house after class, or you were playing video games in his room on weekends.

You always looked forward to Fridays. Sunghoon finished school an hour after you did and he would wait for you in an empty classroom. Afterwards you would take the bus into town and waste away the rest of the afternoon at the movies or in the arcade. You’d buy fried chicken for dinner and eat in your room, and he would spend the night. In the summertime, you’d climb up to the roof and stargaze and eventually fall asleep beside him, only to be rudely awakened by middle-of-the-night summer showers.

You had never known anything else but you and Sunghoon against the world.

——————————

When you were sixteen, things began to change.

“Do you want to do something special tonight?” Sunghoon asked. You were hanging out in your bedroom, him lying on your bed and you sitting on a bean bag on the floor, listening to music and studying.

“Like what?”

He grinned excitedly and handed you his phone. “Jeongmin invited me to join him and his friends. He asked me to bring you, too.”

You read the brief text exchange and frowned. “Jeongmin? As in, iljin and leader of that gang of dickheads, Jeongmin?”

“He’s actually nicer than he seems, you know,” Sunghoon told you. “He said he wants us all to hang out.”

You gave him his phone back, incredulous. “Hoon, the four of them beat up Ahn Jinho so badly last month that he’s still in hospital. You can’t seriously be considering taking him up on his offer. He’s going to drag us out into a park and kill us.”

“I think he just wants to show us how to have fun. You know, live a little. Why else would he invite two nerd loners like us?” he asked.

“Because we’re weak, lonely, and easy to take advantage of?” you pointed out. When he didn’t respond, you sighed. “Do you really want to go?”

“I do.”

“Fine.”

He shook his head rapidly. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“And let you get killed all by yourself? No thanks. We die together.”

——————————

You knew it was a mistake the second the conversation ended, but, as you said, you weren’t very well going to let Sunghoon go alone. And he was adamant, longing for friends, and desperate for an adventure. He clung to your arm as you walked from your house to the abandoned car park, thanking you repeatedly the entire journey.

Regret set in almost instantly. For you, anyway. Sunghoon seemed to be having a blast.

Jeongmin was already there waiting for you, with a case of cheap alcohol in his hand and his three lackeys in tow. You sat in the car park watching as Sunghoon drank and smoked with them, pretending to enjoy himself even though you knew he despised the taste of both of those things.

Jeongmin respected your assertion that you wouldn’t smoke (a shocker), but continued pushing you to drink the entire night. You fidgeted under his leering gaze, only growing more anxious as the minutes ticked by and he kept trying to ply you with alcohol, kept sitting closer and closer to you, kept returning his hand to your thigh no matter how many times you shifted away. Sunghoon didn’t stop him.

At the end of the night, you dragged Sunghoon back to your house and managed to get him up to your room without waking up your dad. He was wasted and reeked of smoke, incredibly lucky that his parents would just assume he’d spent the night at yours like always. You dumped him on your bed, aired out his clothes, and mixed honey and lemon juice into a glass of warm water for him to try and stop his cough.

“Did you have fun?” he asked, already changed into some of his sleeping clothes he kept in your room. His words were slurred and his cheeks were red, but he was coherent enough. “God, my throat feels like shit.”

“Because you smoked half a pack in one sitting like you were cosplaying as a forty-five year old weathered truck driver. Drink your honey lemon water,” you ordered, opening your bedroom windows so the cigarette smoke wouldn’t linger. “And no, I did not.”

He pouted but complied. “They’re not that bad.”

You took the empty glass from his hands and pulled the blankets up over him, touching his forehead. His skin was warm and flushed from the alcohol. “We’ll agree to disagree,” you said, heading downstairs to wash the glass.

“Lie down with me,” he whined the second you came back, somehow having managed to tuck himself into your bed like a sushi roll.

You switched off the lights and climbed into bed beside him, close but not touching. “I really don’t think you should be mixing with them, Hoon. They’re bad news,” you said quietly.

He’d fallen asleep before you ever got the chance to finish your sentence.

——————————

Over the next few weeks, Sunghoon started going out on more of these ‘adventures’. You stopped tagging along, but he still relied on you to shelter him in your room so his parents wouldn’t find out where he was disappearing to. And you continued to keep your phone right by your pillow while you slept so you could go bring him home if and when he called you.

He kept smoking around Jeongmin and his friends, even though he hated it and it made his throat itchy. You had started doing your own grocery shopping so your dad wouldn’t notice how fast the lemons and honey ran out nowadays.

When you and him were together, he acted exactly the same. He was still sweet, thoughtful, and just a little bit snarky. He still stuck to you in school, still waited for you every Friday afternoon, and still followed you to whichever new restaurant you wanted to try out on the weekends. He still lit up with a smile when you came by to his figure skating practice to cheer him on, much to the chagrin of his coach.

But whenever he went out to get wasted with Jeongmin and his gang and you had to go pick him up, you caught glimpses of the person he was becoming. He was picking fights and losing his temper at the smallest things, aggressive and hot-headed and dripping in machismo. No longer charmingly sarcastic with a gentle side, now he was just mean.

As soon as you two were back in your room, however, that all melted away. He would cuddle up to you, apologise, and thank you for always bringing him home no matter how ungodly the hour. If he woke up before you, he would tidy your room as a way to return the favour and leave a snack on your bedside table.

The snack was always accompanied by a yellow post-it note which he took from your desk (you didn’t even use those, but you kept them around specifically for him) with a dumb doodle or lots of hearts or both.

You weren’t happy about this development, but you didn’t do anything to stop it. It was his life, not yours. And you weren’t really in the business of speaking up about things that bothered you anyway. You kept your head down and your mouth shut, and stayed out of Jeongmin’s way.

Until one fateful Tuesday, about two months after the first invitation.

Sunghoon rarely talked to you about his newfound friends; he knew you didn’t approve of them and he didn’t want to upset you. This particular piece of news, though, was just too exciting to keep from you. After all, you were his best friend. He wanted you to be a part of his new life.

“Guess what the guys and I are doing on Sunday,” he said. You nodded for him to continue, somewhat distracted by the cinnamon rolls you were baking together in his kitchen, not entirely sure when ‘the guys’ had become a thing. “Jeongmin’s cousin is in town, and he has a fancy new car. We’re gonna hotwire it, drive it down to the cliff, and set it on fire.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, your jaw dropping open. “What? Sunghoon, that’s too dangerous.”

“That’s why we’ll do it at the cliff. There’s nothing around there that could burn down,” he explained, like that made it okay.

If it weren’t for his completely serious tone and expression, you would have thought he was joking. You set down the mixing bowl you were holding. “No, you could get hurt,” you said, adding, “And what if you get caught? That’s grand larceny and arson.”

“The guy’s an asshole anyway,” he said nonchalantly, not listening to you.

“That doesn’t make it legal, Hoon. Or safe. I’m serious. You can’t do that.”

He folded his arms across his chest, scowling. “You’re just jealous,” he said.

“I don’t want you to go to jail,” you corrected.

“No, you’re jealous I finally have friends other than you. Like, cool, normal, friends,” he snapped, angrier than you’d ever seen him.

Never in your life had he raised his voice at you. You pretty much never fought, aside from short bouts of time when one of you was upset for one reason or another, but you always smoothed things over through calm, measured conversations. Not arguments like this.

You paused, stepping away from the counter, from him. “Is that what this is about? I’m not good enough for you?” you asked, your voice soft.

He had never once indicated he was unhappy with your friendship, with your relaxed hangouts in each other’s houses and comfortable outings to cinemas and restaurants and bookstores. But clearly he wanted something else: to be cool, normal, and have friends that weren’t shy recluses.

You trusted him. He was your whole world, and you’d always assumed you were his too.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said, pulling back his words as you turned to leave. He followed you, pleading, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

“I’m going home,” you stated firmly, rushing out of his house and slamming the front door shut behind you.

——————————

By Sunday evening, you cracked. You had been avoiding Sunghoon for the last two days, and both of your families had noticed. You couldn’t stop thinking about that night, if he would be caught, if he was going to be okay. There was no way you’d be able to talk to his parents without him finding out unless he was out at figure skating training, so you confided in your dad. And he called Sunghoon’s mom right then and there.

“You did the right thing, Y/N. I’m proud of you,” your dad said after he hung up, patting your head.

“It doesn’t feel like I did,” you mumbled, your insides twisting and twisting away.

“I know, honey.” Your dad rubbed your shoulders comfortingly, before offering, “Do you want to go out for ice cream? Take your mind off it? I can call off work.”

You clung to him for a few more seconds, then let go. “I just want to be alone for a while, if that’s okay,” you said, retreating to your bedroom while your dad left for his night shift at the plant.

You weren’t sure how long you lay in your bed staring at the ceiling in complete silence, numbed by guilt, before your bedroom door swung open and Sunghoon barged into your room. In your state, you hadn’t even heard him enter your house. You scrambled to your feet.

“Did you fucking snitch on me?”

He was in all black, with a graphic t-shirt over a long sleeved polo, ripped jeans, and boots. With his hair styled and jewellery on, he must’ve been ready to leave the house, because that was how he normally dressed to meet Jeongmin and his gang.

“Hoon-”

“I told you that in confidence,” he snapped, shutting your bedroom door. His eyes, narrowed in hatred, glowered at you. You walked over to him and reached for his hand, but he slapped you away, recoiling at your touch like you were a hot stove. “How could you do this to me?”

“I was worried about you,” you said, your tone begging, mollifying. You rarely saw him this angry, and never had that anger been directed at you.

“Bullshit. My parents just screamed at me for two hours. Jeongmin’s gonna be pissed at me,” he fumed. “You weren’t fucking worried about me. You didn’t want me to be doing things without you.”

You dug your nails into your palms, trying to stop yourself from crying. It seemed to work, for a while, anyway. “Is that how you see me? As a needy pest who won’t let you go?” you asked, each word a chore to get out, your eyes already stinging. Not from his words, but from the sheer contempt in his expression.

Had he really spent the last sixteen years so desperate to get rid of you, like you were a persistent barnacle on a ship that refused to leave? Did he hate you that much? How had you never known?

He took a step towards you. His eyes were cold, his jaw was clenched, and you couldn’t even recognise him. You stepped back cautiously.

“Oh, like you’re some perfect angel,” he spat through gritted teeth.

“I’m not. I just don’t want you to throw away your future. I-”

“You know what your problem is?” he shouted, cutting you off. He took yet another step forward, and you again stepped back. The backs of your knees hit your bed frame. “You’re a hypocrite. You hold everyone to such a high moral standard that no one is ever good enough for you. Not me, and not yourself. That’s why you fucking hate yourself so much.”

You couldn’t speak. Your heart was firmly lodged in your throat. For several agonising seconds, the only things you could hear were his furious breathing and your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

“I think you should go home,” you finally said after a long pause. Your voice was shaking as you held back tears. “We can talk about this when you’ve calmed down-”

“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down!”

Sunghoon raised his hand to push back his fringe, but you didn’t know that. Because when his hand came up, you flinched.

He lowered his hand immediately, only then noticing that he’d backed you into a corner. Instead of shock or anger or hurt, there was nothing but pure, unadulterated fear in your eyes.

“Did you think I was going to hit you?” he whispered, stepping back.

You squeezed your eyes shut and turned away, walking to your open window and resting your hands on the windowsill. “Please leave,” you said simply, fighting to keep your voice stable as tears began to roll down your face, not looking at him.

He stood and waited for a minute, watching you. You could feel his gaze. But when you refused to turn back around, he sighed and left. You heard your bedroom door close, and then your front door a few seconds later, and then it was so, so quiet.

——————————

You and Sunghoon avoided each other like the plague after that fight, although that torture hadn’t lasted long. Within two weeks, he’d withdrawn from school and vanished. His parents told you he’d gone to a boarding school in a different town, but they didn’t say where or why.

You never saw him again.

Being in your hometown for those last two years of high school was difficult for you. Having to live just down the road from his family home, constantly surrounded by all of your old haunts, made it hard for you to get him out of your head.

After high school you’d gone to a small university to do your first year with a conditional offer from your dream school in your back pocket. You needed time to save up money, and you were hoping to secure a scholarship with your first year grades.

You’d been lucky enough to make a new friend, Heeseung. Like you, he was only in that university temporarily to work his way into a scholarship. Your relationship was initially one of convenience and comfort — neither of you were particularly keen on mixing with the other students you never planned to see again after your first year — but you quickly became genuine friends.

You kept each other motivated, and both managed to secure transfers before your second year started. In fact, you’d done so well that your then-university had begged you to stay, offering you scholarship after scholarship and full fee remissions. But you both turned them down. You had loftier ambitions.

Once you moved away to university, things got better. Of course, the vestiges remained. You still had Sunghoon’s Spotify playlists in your account, your shared arcade membership card in your wallet, and some of his socks mixed in with your own. Before you fought he’d borrowed your favourite pair of red shrimp socks, and now you were never going to get them back.

But you didn’t think about him nearly as often as you used to. He was no longer a ghost living in your head, but a will-o’-the-wisp that occasionally caught your eye when you saw something that reminded you of him.

And now you and Heeseung were standing in the foyer of your new dorm with nothing from your past but a small suitcase each, in the university you’d been chasing your entire lives, ready to start your second year.

“We made it,” Heeseung whispered to you, still not fully comprehending it all. You were really here.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous in my life,” you whispered back.

“Me too. If we weren’t roommates I’d be shitting bricks by now.”

The school had been gracious enough to allow you and Heeseung to live together in a small apartment within the music students’ dorm, since you were pretty sure at least one of you would have gone bonkers if you were separated. You would be sharing the floor with another similar apartment housing three students who would meet you in the foyer to help you move in.

Right on time, one of them (you presumed) came bounding down the stairs excitedly. He broke into a broad smile the second he saw your suitcases, his originally stern-looking features softening instantly as he did.

“Are you the transfers? Nice to meet you! I’m Jay. We spoke on the phone.”

You spoke up first when it became clear Heeseung was far too anxious to talk. “Hi! I’m Y/N, and this is Heeseung. Nice to meet you too.”

“Welcome aboard,” Jay said, easily picking up your suitcase before you could object. Heeseung fumbled for his own. “My roommates are just finishing getting your apartment ready. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Shouldn’t that be the school’s job?” you asked, following him up the stairs.

“This place can be a bit of a circus, believe it or not,” Jay remarked, making you and Heeseung exchange glances. When you reached the fifth floor, not a single hair on his head was out of place even though your bag was heavy as fuck.

“Thank you,” you said.

“No problem. That’s us over there,” he said, pointing to the first door on the level, “and this is you guys.”

The apartment was modestly-sized and simple, but clean and otherwise perfect. Jay introduced you to his first roommate Jake, who was sitting at the kitchen counter when you arrived.

“Thanks for setting all of this up for us. It must’ve been a lot of work,” Heeseung said, finally speaking after you elbowed him in the side (be normal, man). “You’ve been so helpful.”

“It’s nothing. Jay and I both transferred here last semester too, so we know how hard it can be,” Jake said kindly, waving away your gratitude. “Our other roommate did the same for us back then.”

“Speaking of which, Hoon! Come out here and meet the new students!” Jay called.

A third voice came floating from down the corridor. “Coming!”

When the aforementioned roommate emerged from the corridor, your heart stopped. Your blood turned to lead in your veins. Your ears began ringing, the sound so loud it washed away almost everything else.

You could barely hear Jake as he said, “Hoon, these are our new neighbours, Heeseung and Y/N. Guys, this is-”

“Sunghoon,” you finished. His name came out of your mouth, but it didn’t sound like your voice. Your hands were numb.

“Y/N,” Sunghoon said, at the exact same time.

Although he was taller now, with a broader frame, a sharper jaw, and a deeper voice, it was still him. He was frozen in shock, looking right at you, unblinking. He had on a white t-shirt that read ‘rise above’ that he’d had since the first year of high school — you bought it for him for his fifteenth birthday. It had been massively oversized on his thin body back then, but now he filled it out nicely.

Right there, as you stood in the kitchen of your new apartment, all the guilt and heartbreak and mourning that you thought you had left behind in the child that died three years ago came rushing back to you, squeezing the air from your lungs.

And in that moment you were reminded yet again of the lesson you had spent the last three years of your life learning day after day after day: movies lied.

The real heartbreak was never the big fight. It was every time after when the other person crossed your mind in idle thoughts or memories, every time you saw or heard something that reminded you of them, every time you pulled up their contact on your phone and read the distant timestamp of your final conversation.

It was every belonging of theirs they left behind in your childhood bedroom, and everything you owned that had been a gift from them. It was every food you ever ate together and every song you ever listened to together and every place you ever went to together.

It was every time they reached out from beyond the grave and touched some part of your life and you had to lose them all over again.

You looked at him, and he looked at you. His eyes hadn’t changed at all. You were sixteen once more: standing in his kitchen making cinnamon rolls, locking your bedroom door behind him after the last time you spoke because you were scared he would return, desperately running away from him in the school halls.

He glanced down at your hands, your fingers laced together to hide the fact that they were shaking. You had a habit of doing that when you were nervous. Around your left wrist was a silver bracelet, one that he’d gotten you on a whim six years ago. You still had it. And you still wore it. And it was you.

Jay smiled cheerily, oblivious. “Do you guys know each other?”

——————————

Your first week of your second year was amazing. You were finally at your dream university in your dream major, with a full-ride scholarship under your belt and your best friend right by your side. It was everything you and Heeseung had worked so hard for.

The building you lived in was a dorm just for music scholars, a small, close-knit group of under thirty students. Most of them, like Jay and Jake, also bled money.

But your experience was somewhat soured by one thing: Park Sunghoon. He was everywhere.

Of course, that was to be expected. It was a small cohort, the only new friends you’d made so far were his roommates, and you were literally neighbours.

After the day you’d moved in, neither of you had spoken a word to each other. You ran into him constantly, and you were always going to classes and grabbing lunch together, but you’d never talked to him directly. He was just always there.

On Thursday, as the five of you left a lecture together, Sunghoon politely excused himself. “I won’t join you guys for lunch today. I need to pick up something from the shops.”

So you found yourself sitting in the food court with Heeseung, Jay, and Jake. When the conversation naturally fizzled out, it was only quiet for a few seconds before Jay clapped his hands together and asked, “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s the deal with you and Sunghoon?”

You looked at Heeseung for guidance. On that first night, you’d already told him everything. He shrugged.

“Uh- well. We grew up together, and when we were sixteen we had a falling out,” you answered cautiously.

“Then you lost touch?” Jake frowned.

“You could say that,” you said, reaching for Heeseung’s hand under the table and adding, “I think Sunghoon should probably be the one to tell you the rest, though. When he’s ready.”

——————————

At Heeseung’s insistence (listen, you’re clearly still hurting over this, and it would be good for you to talk to him, at least), you bullied yourself into texting Sunghoon at the end of your first week. With trembling hands, you asked him if he would meet you in the botanical gardens on Sunday. He replied almost instantly: what time?

Waiting for him on a park bench, chronically early as you always were, you were bouncing your leg so much that the entire bench was shaking. The last time you’d spoken to him was over three years ago, when you’d pleaded with him to get out of your room.

You had drawn up an agreement with Heeseung that morning: if things went south, you would send him an S.O.S. message so he could come by and pretend to whisk you away to tend to an Urgent Apartment Matter. You even programmed your phone to text him automatically if you pressed your power button five times in a row. He called you ‘insufferably paranoid’, which you took as a compliment.

Sunghoon was a minute late, and, by the looks of it, just as anxious as you were.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

He sat down next to you, a polite distance away. It was almost like how you used to sit in your neighbourhood park late at night after you’d aged out of the playground, eating convenience store ramen together until a concerned stranger or annoyed police officer told you to go home.

You both looked around for a while before you couldn’t take it anymore and bit the bullet. “How have you been?” you asked, stilted.

“Good. I’ve been good.” He cleared his throat and rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans, nodding at nothing. “What about you?”

“Good.” You paused too, searching your brain for something to say.

“I went to military school,” he blurted out, knowing you were too polite to ask him directly. “Um- for the last two years of high school. That’s why I disappeared.”

Military school? So the rumours floating around the town had been right.

“Madam Choi kept asking me about you,” you told him after a while. Madam Choi was the sweet, grandmotherly owner of the convenience store on the corner of your street who always asked how you were doing and chastised you for eating too many snacks even though your unhealthy diets kept her shop afloat. It was the only topic you could think of that wasn’t too painful to bring up.

Sunghoon laughed at that, a sound you hadn’t heard for years. He loosened up, and you did too. Your awkwardness gradually began melting away as he told you about Jay and Jake, about his time at military school, and about all the cool spots in the city you should check out. You told him about Heeseung, your previous university, and how you didn’t know how to navigate your new university’s portal because it was designed to frustrate.

Conspicuously, neither of you brought up the past. Reminiscing was off the table, an arrangement implicitly reached between you two at some point during the conversation. Even when you finally worked up the courage to ask what you’d been wanting to ask for the last three years, you still couldn’t bring yourself anywhere close to acknowledging what happened.

“Are you still mad at me?” you asked.

Sunghoon didn’t hesitate for even a second, which made you smile. “No.”

As he continued talking, however, it became clear that he was considering every word he said before he said it. He was careful, deliberate, holding back.

“I’ve grown up since then,” he said slowly. “I haven’t been mad for a long time. Actually, I wanted to thank you for doing what you did. I could have been sitting in jail by now.” He clasped his hands together and turned to you. “Are you still mad at me?”

You were equally as assured and quick with your own response. “No. I was never mad at you.”

“You should’ve been,” he joked. “I caused you so much trouble, always waking you up in the middle of the night and crashing in your room.”

You laughed and shook your head. “I’m happy things worked out for you, Hoon. And that you got into university despite everything that happened,” you said.

“Thanks,” he smiled. Although the rest of him looked older and more mature, his smile remained the same.

“If I’d done those things I never would’ve gotten a second chance,” you mused, more to yourself than to him, but he heard it anyway.

Instantly, his mood soured.

“Okay, so did you rat on me to protect me and my future? Or because you were jealous? Because that sounds like jealousy,” he snapped.

Shit. You reached for your phone and pressed the home button five times. But he wasn’t wrong.

Yes, you had been worried about him as you’d said back then, but you were also jealous. Not of his new friends, but of his life. His parents were rich, and he had two of them. If he had gone out that night and been caught, there was a non-zero chance that he could have gotten off with a slap on the wrist.

His parents had the money to ship him off to a private military school for two whole years at the drop of a hat, and he’d been able to come straight to your dream university. If you had joined him and Jeongmin that night, you would’ve been locked up without question.

“You ruined my life,” Sunghoon hissed, his eyes now dark and his body tense. “Do you know that?”

“You ruined your own life when you were planning to commit arson and didn’t listen to me when I told you to stop,” you countered.

He set his jaw and turned away with a scoff. “I can’t believe you.”

In the distance, you saw Heeseung jogging over to you. He must’ve been hiding in another part of the park, waiting. You weren’t the only insufferably paranoid one, it seemed.

“This isn’t how I wanted today to go, Hoon,” you sighed.

“Don’t call me that,” he spat, standing up.

“Y/N!” Heeseung shouted as he reached the bench. His face fell the moment he saw the look in your eyes. “There is an Urgent Apartment Matter. We must tend to it right away,” he stuttered, grabbing your hand and yanking you to your feet before Sunghoon even had the time to blink.

The two of you ran.

——————————

You and Sunghoon had swiftly gone right back to ignoring each other, which was pretty impressive considering you were almost always together. Jay and Jake seemed annoyingly hell-bent on taking you and Heeseung under their wing — as fellow transfers themselves, they wanted to help you acclimatise — and Sunghoon didn’t have any other friends. So he was constantly with you in classes, at parties, or hanging out in your goddamn apartment.

He spent more time staring at you than he would have liked to admit. In between gaps in conversations, or when you were distracted by one of Jay’s dissertation-length speeches about some inane topic or stupid fact, he got the chance to really look at you for the first time in years. Every time he did he felt a strange ache in his chest. You were like an actor he already knew playing a character he’d never seen before.

“Dude, why would you even say that? You called them a hypocrite?” Jake chastised, when Sunghoon finally revealed the details behind your falling out in high school a few days after Sunday.

“I just can’t imagine you as that kind of guy,” Jay said, stunned. He was still trying to picture Park Sunghoon, the would-be arsonist.

Often, Sunghoon found himself staring not when Jay was rambling or Jake was telling you a joke, but specifically when you were with Heeseung. There was something about the way you two interacted that made his heart sting. You were comfortable with him, and he with you.

You knew he liked to sit on the inside of restaurant booths facing the door, and he knew your Subway order by heart. You kept track of the stock of his favourite drinks in your fridge, and he always had a spare charger in his bag for all the times you forgot to bring your own. You were so in tune with each other that you would tell when the other wanted to go home without needing to ask and built effortlessly on each other’s jokes. You even kind of talked the same.

“And then you said it again? Are you serious?” Jay groaned in frustration when he heard the park story. Everyone had noticed the considerable shift in mood between you and Sunghoon since Sunday, but no one had dared to mention it.

“They’re trying so hard with you, man. Why would you do that?” Jake sighed.

Sunghoon pulled hard at his hair, equally frustrated, and flopped face down on the sofa. “I don’t know! It just came out.”

There was a substantial part of him that kmew it was because he was scared he hadn’t changed. That he was still the kind of person who called their best friend a hypocrite and accused them of being jealous when they tried to protect him. That you could see that, and that Jay and Jake would realise it soon too.

The other day at the juice bar Heeseung bought you a warm honey lemon tea. When he ordered it, you and Sunghoon immediately looked at each other before turning away. Windows open to air out the stench of cigarette smoke. Your secret stash of lemons and honey. Yellow post-it notes on your bedside table. All the hours you spent taking care of him, even as he spiralled out of control.

You hadn’t even asked for it; Heeseung somehow knew you had a sore throat that day without you telling him. Apparently he could hear it in your voice, which was (according to him) slightly scratchy and hoarse. Sunghoon couldn’t hear a thing, though. You sounded the exact same to him.

It was clear that Heeseung was familiar with the person you were now, that he knew you, and he knew how to be your best friend. That was a skill that Sunghoon had lost years ago, and clearly he didn’t quite know you anymore.

At the park you hadn’t cried once, although he was sure the sixteen-year-old you would have. Perhaps you just cried less now. Perhaps you’d given up on him and no longer expected anything else from him but to be disappointed.

“You need to apologise to them,” Jake scolded.

“They won’t forgive me,” Sunghoon mumbled into the sofa fabric.

Jay threw a pillow at him. “No offence, Hoon, but from what you’ve told us I think you’re a pretty shit judge of character.”

——————————

You had the apartment to yourself that Thursday night because Heeseung had rented a studio to practise after-hours and wouldn’t be back till sunrise. Someone knocked on your door. When you didn’t answer it immediately, a painfully familiar voice rang out from the other side.

“It’s me.”

Dread was not an emotion you’d ever associated with Sunghoon, but it was all you felt when you opened the door for him. When you were kids he never waited for you to do so; he always just let himself in. You sat down at the kitchen counter together, side by side.

“Since when do you watch Queer Eye?” he asked, noticing your laptop screen.

“Heeseung introduced me to it,” you said, pushing a glass of water across the counter to him. His face darkened at the name, but you chose to ignore it. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Sunghoon bit his lip. “I wanted to say I’m sorry,” he started, wooden. While he’d seemed guarded and on edge on Sunday, now he seemed scared. “For what I said to you. And for- for everything.”

You sat rigidly on the bar stool, self-conscious, not knowing what to say.

“I had a lot of time to think over the last three years, and I realised I was insecure. I was so desperate to be seen as ‘cool’ and Jeongmin knew that. You were right; he was preying on me because he could tell how much I wanted to be a part of his world. You saw right through me because you knew- you know me better than anyone. So I lashed out at you.

“I tried so hard to put that part of my life behind me — I never told Jay or Jake about it, even — and when you came back I panicked. It was a reminder of all the fucked up things I did and the person I used to be. I didn’t want to have to deal with it, and I took it out on you again.

“I’m sorry. And thank you. For always being there for me to pick up the pieces. I never deserved that sort of kindness.”

He watched you nervously, waiting for a response. You reached for the rubber band around your wrist and snapped it. It didn’t hurt, but it helped to distract you. He glanced down at your hand, recognising another of your old habits.

“Stop doing that,” he chided, his eyes watering. At that moment, he sounded just like he used to when you were younger. You remembered him saying those exact words in that exact tone. Of all the things he had said, that was what made you want to cry.

“I missed you so much,” you finally admitted after a long pause, inhaling shakily. “I felt like I ruined our friendship. I never stopped wondering if I made the right decision, I- I thought I’d lost you forever.”

He wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tight. His hugs were just comforting as they had been when you were growing up. He was much stronger than you remembered, although perhaps you should have expected that. He’d changed his cologne since.

“You have nothing to feel guilty about,” he told you, stroking your hair gently. When you separated his eyes were shining with tears. He laughed, sniffling, holding your face in his hands.

“Can we be friends again?” you whispered.

“I’d like that,” he said, letting you go and hesitating for a few seconds before he next spoke. “Do you know what motivated me to change when I was in military school?”

“What?” You hugged him one last time before unconsciously reaching for your rubber band. Catching this, he raised an eyebrow and glanced pointedly at your wrist. You stopped, feeling scolded.

“The last time we talked back in high school, you thought I was going to hit you,” he began carefully. He took a deep breath, suddenly unable to look you in the eye now. “Seeing how scared you were, the fear on your face, I- I never wanted to make anyone feel like that again. Especially not you. I’m sorry.”

He’d started crying. He hardly ever cried when you were kids. You wiped away his tears with your shirt sleeve.

“Don’t be a stranger, okay?” he begged, clutching onto you with a vice grip. Between you and him he had always been the calm one, but now he was shaking and you could feel it.

You squeezed his hand. “I won’t.”

——————————

Something in you was repaired that day.

You were telling the truth when you said you had never stopped feeling guilty about what you did. Not being able to speak to Sunghoon after, not even knowing where he was or what he was doing, it had wrecked you.

For years you’d lived with the thought that the only person you’d ever trusted had always secretly resented you. Maybe everyone did — maybe you were a pest, a hypocrite, a loser. It made it hard for you to form new connections. Heeseung had chipped away at your defences for months before you felt safe enough to call him your friend.

But now you were sitting on the floor of Sunghoon’s living room, sharing a vodka Sprite with Heeseung while you watched the others play Mario Kart, and everything was fine.

You hadn’t spent too much time with Sunghoon alone, although the five of you were constantly together. Jake had even joked about blocking off the fifth floor from the other scholars and just leaving both of your front doors open to form one big apartment for the five of you. Functionally, it wouldn’t be that different from how you were already living.

“I’m hungry,” Heeseung piped up, pouting and nudging you. “Go buy me some chips?”

“Why can’t you go?” you asked.

“My head hurts,” he whined. If he was dehydrated, the smallest drop of alcohol could give him splitting headaches. “Don’t kick a man while he’s down.”

Before you could retort, Sunghoon handed him his Switch controller. “Hee, you play. I’ll go with them,” he offered.

“Thanks, man. Use my rewards card,” Heeseung said, handing you his wallet instead of just taking the rewards card out and passing that to you.

You used to joke that you could so easily max out all of his credit cards if you wanted to, but he swiftly pointed out that you also had a habit of giving him your entire wallet when he asked to borrow money or your transport card.

“I still can’t believe we've been in this city for just over a month and you already have six rewards cards,” you laughed, putting on your shoes.

As you and Sunghoon were walking out the door, Heeseung was still shouting, “Think of the points, dude! The points!”

The convenience store was just across the road from your dorm building, which was, as its name suggested, pretty convenient. Not as good for your heart health and nutrition, but whatever. It was drizzling slightly, but not enough for either of you to have bothered with an umbrella.

“Heeseung is so obsessed with collecting rewards points,” you joked, fiddling with his rewards card.

Sunghoon chuckled. “Is he always like that?”

You nodded. “Since I met him. You like him, though, right?”

“Yeah, I do. He’s fun,” he said. He wasn’t lying; he did actually like Heeseung. But he would be lying if he said your closeness to him didn’t bother him at all. Sunghoon didn’t want to think too much about the possible implications of his jealousy.

“I’m glad. I really like Jay and Jake, too,” you told him, pushing open the convenience store door. “I’ll go get Deungie’s chips, because he likes some weird obscure flavours.”

“I’ll get the normal stuff for everyone else,” Sunghoon said, asking, “the usual for you, yeah?”

You thought of the convenience store in your hometown, of Madam Choi, of your regular weekend sleepovers back in school. Rehearsed and practised, you two were in and out of the store in under two minutes. What did that say about either of you, that you were so skilled at buying snacks that you worked together like a well-oiled machine?

The drizzle was marginally heavier when you left. It was a short walk, but Sunghoon took off his white baseball cap and fixed it atop your head anyway.

“Thanks, Hoon,” you smiled. You never bothered fighting him when he did things like that for you; you hadn’t as a kid and you still didn’t now. He wouldn’t do it unless he wanted to, and he wasn’t the type to accept your refusals of help.

But it felt different years later, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, amused.

You quickly averted your gaze, not having noticed you’d been looking at him. “It’s just weird to have you back,” you said.

You’d had this conversation with him at least a dozen times over the last month. It still hadn’t quite sunk in yet that he was back in your life and you were back in his. That you hadn’t destroyed the life of your best friend by being a hypocrite.

Since then, you’d spent a lot of time thinking about the person you used to be: full of self-loathing and insecurity and fear that you would eventually ruin every relationship you had. Heeseung had been slightly hurt that you hadn’t told him about Sunghoon when it all happened. You admitted to him that you were scared he would think of you as a bad person.

Sunghoon smiled. “Is it a good weird or a bad weird?”

“It’s a good weird. I missed this,” you answered, holding up the bag of snacks in your hand. As was your usual routine, you carried the snacks and he carried the drinks, having immediately fallen into step.

He playfully bumped into you as you walked, though not nearly hard enough to knock you off balance. “I missed you,” he said, before reaching for his keys.

The conversation was the same, but the butterflies in your stomach were definitely a new development.

——————————

Since you reconnected, Sunghoon hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you.

“Dude, are you jealous of Heeseung?” Jay asked him one night, out of the blue, after you and Heeseung left their apartment to head back to your own. Well, it wasn’t entirely out of the blue; even he couldn’t deny that.

“Can’t I be jealous of my ex-best friend’s new best friend?” Sunghoon replied, already defensive.

“That’s not why you’re jealous, though, is it?” Jay pressed. “You’re posturing around him and you can’t stop looking at Y/N.”

“Shut up.” He was right, and deep down Sunghoon knew it.

He was never going to be your best friend again, and he wasn’t trying to be. Neither of you were the same people you had been three years ago, and you were different enough that if you met now, you probably wouldn’t have been close. You both had new friends, people who suited your current selves better.

He wanted to be something else.

“You need to tone down the staring, man. It’s getting a little too obvious,” Jake said. “Even Heeseung mentioned it to me the other day.”

Sunghoon swore under his breath. “He did?” Heeseung, of all people, noticing — had he mentioned it to you?

“For what it’s worth, I’m pretty sure they’re just friends,” Jay added, trying to be comforting.

Sunghoon sighed and finished his drink. It was a gin and tonic which he’d made so strong that it was basically straight gin with a drizzle of tonic water. He winced.

“I know, but they do everything together,” he mumbled, just barely self-aware enough to realise he was whining. “That used to be me.”

“They’re happy, you’re happy, and you guys are friends again. Isn't that what you wanted? Why focus on the past when you could be focusing on right now?” Jake asked.

“Because they trusted me for sixteen years and I basically told them I’d secretly hated them the whole time,” Sunghoon said, his voice rising. “I ruined them, and I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

Jay scowled and crossed his arms, kicking Sunghoon’s foot with his own. “You didn’t ruin anyone. They’re fine. You’re not the only thing that’s ever happened to them, and if you keep thinking like that you’ll never fully repair your relationship.”

Sunghoon stared at his empty glass. He needed another drink.

——————————

“It’s been two months since we moved here,” Heeseung told you randomly one day. You were at a ramen bar for dinner with him and Sunghoon to celebrate getting through the first half of the semester. Also, you were all out of food at home and neither of you were in the mood to cook.

“Has it?” You checked the date on your phone. Sure enough, he was right. You hadn’t even realised.

“It doesn’t feel like it,” Sunghoon said. You’d started looking at Sunghoon differently.

Firstly, he looked different. He towered over his former self, his shoulders were much wider than you recalled, and he’d lost some fat on his face, making his cheeks and jaw more angular. He wore his black hair longer than he used to and he didn’t have nearly as many dark colours in his wardrobe.

He’d always been good-looking, but you had never really recognised that before. Now, though, it was always on your mind. Now, when he smiled at you or fixed your hair after he put his cap on your head or leaned over you to plug in his laptop in lecture theatres, you got nervous.

His gestures had always made you feel warm and comfortable, but now they were also starting to make you feel shy. You’d never been particularly touchy with him even as kids — you shared beds with a wall of pillows in between you two — but now you couldn’t even bear the thought of holding onto his sleeve in a crowd so you wouldn’t get separated.

“Oi.” Heeseung kicked you hard under the table and pointed at your nearly empty bowl. “Earth to Y/N. Are you done?”

They were both staring at you. How long had you been zoning out?

“What? Yeah, I’m done. Did you say something?” you asked.

Heeseung laughed and pressed his index finger to the top of your head, pretending to push you down like a button, which he always did when he was making fun of you. He definitely knew what you’d been lost in thought about (do you know how much Sunghoon stares at you nowadays? I think he hates me).

“Heeseung said he’s meeting Jay and Jake at the studio,” Sunghoon filled you in, much more helpful. “So we can go home, or if you want we can walk around some more.” He sounded expectant, like he was hoping you’d agree to the latter. You did.

——————————

Once you saw Heeseung off at the bus stop, Sunghoon brought you to a run-down building four streets away from the ramen bar. In the hip, fashionable district of the city, amidst the trendy shops and cafés, the mould and peeling paint and water damage of the building made it stick out like a blister.

You looked at the building, and then at him, and then back at the building. “Is this an assassination attempt?” you asked.

“Trust me,” he said, pushing the rusty steel door open with his foot.

“That’s not an answer. And your refusal to touch the door with your hands doesn’t exactly inspire trust,” you laughed, but you followed him with no hesitation.

It felt almost like when you used to go exploring the outskirts of your hometown by yourselves, far too late at night for kids your age. But this time, you didn’t have any snacks with you, nor games to keep yourselves occupied.

Sunghoon made a face at you and ushered you inside. “Shut up. I’m the city native here.”

“You’ve only been here a year longer than me,” you pointed out, looking around. The building wasn’t so much a building as it was a stairwell. Stuffy, dark, and dingy, it made you feel suffocated. “I’m going to die here,” you declared, sighing in resignation.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh my god. It’s not even that bad.”

As if on cue, the door slammed shut behind you, the sound echoing ominously in the tight space. What little light that had been coming in from the street lamps outside disappeared, except for a sliver of amber forcing its way through a gap in the door frame. He cursed under his breath.

“Hoon,” you called, desperately trying to spot him in the darkness, the rising panic clear in your words. “I swear, if I die tonight I’ll never stop haunting you.”

His reply came immediately, calm and measured, reassuring. “I’m right here. Give me your hand.”

You turned around at the sound of his voice and reached out blindly in front of you, hitting his shoulder. He found your hand and took it in his, the feeling of his palm against yours somehow soothing and stressful at the same time.

“You’re still scared of the dark?” he asked, joking, trying to ease your fear.

He used to scold you all the time for always sleeping with your light on, but no matter how many articles he sent you about why sleeping in the dark was important for healthy melatonin production, you never listened. Whenever he slept over in your room, he used an eye mask.

“Shut up, please.” Your voice was quiet and unconvincing; actually, you wanted nothing more than for him to keep talking. You couldn’t see anything, and all you had to ground you was his voice and his hand in yours.

He squeezed your hand, softening his tone. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise it would be this dark. It’s worth it, I promise.”

He led you up three flights of stairs by the hand and walked face first into what you assumed to be a locked door. “Ow. Motherfucker.”

You cackled at that.

The room (if you could call it that, since it was barely bigger than a cupboard) was lit with a single filament light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Aside from a couple of cardboard boxes, some pillows, and a bean bag, it was empty.

“That’s your old bean bag. The one you had in your room,” you said, recognising the green fabric immediately. You tensed when he brushed past you to shut the door to the room (supply cupboard?), but you tried your best to ignore it.

“Yeah, I brought it with me. I get homesick sometimes, so it helps,” he told you, sitting down on the small pile of pillows. You took the bean bag.

“It smells worse than I remembered,” you said, patting it. He pushed you in retaliation, laughing at you when you lost your balance.

“I have snacks and drinks in this box, and comics and books in that one,” he explained. “I wanted to get a mini-fridge in here but there isn’t an outlet.”

This was exactly how you used to spend your weekends when you didn’t have to study: snacks, drinks, and reading. Except now he handed you a can of hard seltzer instead of his yoghurt drinks of yore.

“Is this legal? Does the building owner know you’re here?” you asked, somewhat sceptical. But you opened the can anyway and took a sip. It was warm, but not unpleasant.

“Of course. I’m a law abiding citizen.”

“You just jaywalked about ten minutes ago.”

“I’m generally a law abiding citizen.” He dug around in the box some more and produced a can of sangria (you despised sangria), gesturing to the room. “What do you think? Pretty cool, right?”

“Very,” you nodded, making yourself comfortable in the bean bag. You felt like you were in high school again, although you didn’t recall your spine hurting nearly as much then. Perhaps you were getting old. You needed proper back support now.

He kicked off his shoes. “Fuck off,” he laughed.

“I wasn’t being sarcastic!” you yelled, before you noticed- “My red shrimp socks!”

“Oh, right.” He glanced down at his feet and started casually taking the socks off. “Do you want them back?”

You gagged. “Not right now, dumbo!”

He used to be able to detect your sarcasm perfectly, always reading your tone with no margin of error, although it was probably unfair to expect him to still be able to after so many years.

“Come home with me,” Sunghoon said suddenly, still looking at his (your) socks. You looked at him, puzzled. “After the semester ends. We should go visit our families,” he added.

You thought for a minute and agreed. “I think my dad misses you.”

“My parents miss you too.” He leant back against the wall behind him, closed his eyes, and rested his head on your shoulder, declaring, “I’m tired.”

The room was so dark and small and quiet. His black hair tickled your neck, even though you could tell he was trying not to move around too much. You prayed he couldn’t hear how fast your heart rate had become. He’d always been a sleepy drinker, and you’d all been drinking pretty liberally during dinner earlier.

You tried to relax, as much as you could with his body pressed against yours, and closed your eyes too. So you didn’t see him reach for your hand until you felt his touch directly. He took your hand and pulled it into his lap, interlocking his fingers with yours and fiddling with your silver bracelet. You froze, your breathing shallow and your muscles tense.

“This is from that old charity shop behind the fruit store,” he mumbled, running the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. You could feel the vibrations of his throat against your shoulder as he spoke. “I bought it for you.”

“Hoon,” you said softly, your eyes now wide open. He hummed in response, still playing with your hand. “What are you doing?”

His reply was a non-answer. “I miss home.”

Tentatively, you lifted your hand to his head, stroking his hair in what you hoped would be a comforting gesture. He stayed quiet. His closeness was simultaneously the most nerve-wracking and most comforting thing. In all your life, you couldn’t ever recall sitting like this with him.

“Are you okay? Do you want to talk?” you asked, pulling your hand away, worried now.

He grabbed it and returned it to his hair, moving even closer to you. “That feels nice,” he sighed. His breath was warm against your neck, while the tip of his nose was cold. It made you shiver. “I’m fine. I just haven’t been home in a while.”

You felt terrible for never really having thought about what his two years in military school, being ripped away from his family at such short notice, must’ve been like. As far as you were aware he didn’t get to visit his family until he graduated, and you only knew that because you spent your own high school graduation period locked up in your house to avoid running into him.

Against your best efforts, the guilt came rushing back. You closed your eyes again and continued playing with Sunghoon’s hair, just how he liked it.

——————————

Two weeks later, you still didn’t know what to make of that night. You told Heeseung everything and asked him if you were going insane.

“Do you like him?” Heeseung asked as you two got ready to leave the house. You were going out to get drinks with the others.

“I don’t know,” you groaned, yanking the windows shut much harder than you had intended. He jumped at the sound, and you winced. “Sorry. I hate this, man.”

“Do you want my opinion?” he asked.

“It depends on what it is.”

He snorted. “I think you do like him and you don’t want to admit it. Why is that?”

You rushed to put on your shoes as he waited for you. “I just- what if this fucks up our friendship a second time? There’s too much history between us, right?”

“Well, your heart doesn’t seem to think so,” he said, opening the front door. The neighbouring front door opened too, at the exact same time, and out stepped Sunghoon. He broke into a wide smile the second he saw you.

Heeseung lowered his head and said quietly, “Clearly, he doesn’t think so, either.”

——————————

You were far too nervous to drink even after the forty minute journey to the bar. Heeseung’s words hadn’t left your head for even a second, and he could definitely tell from the way he kept grinning at you.

“Are you sure you don’t want any?” Heeseung asked for the third time, offering you his glass. You had the same taste in drinks, so you usually shared.

“I don’t feel like drinking tonight,” you said, again for the third time.

“Guess who else isn’t drinking tonight,” he teased, way too loud, nodding to Sunghoon and his glass of water. That didn’t even make sense.

“Shut up,” you hissed. Heeseung giggled, already tipsy, and leaned on you. Sunghoon caught your eye from across the table and smiled. If he’d heard what the other man said, he showed no indication of it. You smiled back.

Jake returned to the table, tapping Heeseung on the shoulder.

“I can’t do it anymore. It’s your turn,” Jake sighed, exasperated, collapsing into his seat. He’d been on wingman duty for Jay, and (apparently, because you’d never been unlucky enough to witness it yourself) Jay was a terrible flirt.

Heeseung picked up his glass, downed what was left in it in one gulp, and set it back down on the table with a loud thump. “Alright, here I go,” he declared. You watched him carefully as he walked over to the bar, but he didn’t seem too drunk yet. He’d be fine.

At the booth behind where Jay was, however, you saw someone else who made your blood run cold.

“Hoon, don’t turn around, but Jeongmin is here,” you began. Jeongmin was staring intensely at you. Sunghoon sat up straight in alarm. Maybe you looked familiar to him and he was trying to place you.

Jake, ever the quick thinker, said, “You guys should leave. I’ll stay and let Jay and Hee know what happened.” Sunghoon was still frozen.

“Thanks, Jake. Pass these to Heeseung for me.” You fished your keys (Heeseung hadn’t brought his own) out of your pocket to toss them to Jake, grabbed Sunghoon by the arm, and dragged him out of the bar.

“Aren’t you sober? Why don’t your legs work?” you grunted, trying to shake him to attention and pull him down the street at the same time. A passing car revving its engine snapped him out of it, whatever it was.

“Fuck, yeah. Sorry,” Sunghoon mumbled. Before you could even ask him if he was okay, what you’d been trying so hard to avoid happened.

“Park Sunghoon.”

You could pick out Jeongmin’s voice anywhere. It was low, rough, and sharp. He somehow looked identical to how he looked back in high school, if only slightly thinner and more tired.

“You. You called the cops on us that night,” Jeongmin hissed. jabbing an accusatory finger at Sunghoon.

“I didn’t,” Sunghoon stated calmly, but you could tell he was on edge. He subtly pushed you behind him.

“Yeah, right. On the one night we get busted the new kid just happens to not show up,” Jeongmin scoffed, taking a step towards you.

Sunghoon held up his hands. “Look, man, I don’t want to fight. I didn’t call the cops on you.”

Jeongmin squared his shoulders and punched him hard in the jaw without warning. The silver ring he was wearing drew a deep red gash across Sunghoon’s cheek.

As if on auto-pilot, like it was second nature to him, Sunghoon immediately returned the blow with a punch of his own before you even had the time to think. You gasped, Jeongmin’s nose cracked, and Sunghoon took advantage of the distraction to kick him hard in the knee, knocking him to the ground.

Then he grabbed your hand and ran.

——————————

The walk back to the dorm was silent. Sunghoon’s lips were pressed tightly together, his eyebrows were furrowed, and his fists were clenched like he was trying not to cry. You remembered the days when you, not him, were usually the one who needed comforting.

It reassured you to some degree, though, that he wouldn’t hide his sadness from you like he used to. You reached for his hand the second you were out of Jeongmin’s line of sight and threaded your fingers between his. His knuckles were bruised.

Wordlessly, he handed you his keys and you unlocked his front door.

“Do you have a first aid kit?” you asked.

“Under the kitchen sink,” he said flatly, sitting down on the sofa.

You pulled it out from the back corner of the kitchen cabinet with great difficulty, joined him on the sofa, and started cleaning the cut on his jaw. He winced when the alcohol swab made contact with his skin.

“Sorry. I’m almost done,” you promised, tossing the swab aside and covering the cut up. It took all of twenty seconds. “Do you want to talk?”

Sunghoon closed his eyes and sighed, dropping his head. “I shouldn’t have hit him. I thought I was past that behaviour. I don’t-”

He stopped talking. You put your hand over his and waited. His bottom lip started to quiver as he held back tears.

“I don’t want to be that person again,” he sobbed, and the sound broke your heart.

Through the school grapevine you heard about fights with kids of neighbouring schools, breaking and entering, the like. But even now, so many years later, you didn’t fully know what he did with Jeongmin and his gang. You never asked, and he never volunteered that information.

He was crying. “I let my parents down. Every time I see them I just remember how angry they were at me. I’m a terrible son. Nothing I do will ever be able to erase that I humiliated them, I failed them, I brought shame to the whole family, I-”

You pulled him into a hug, feeling how his body trembled as he fought to speak.

“You’re not a terrible son, Hoon,” you whispered, as he sobbed into your hair.

He shook his head and pushed you away. “I shouldn’t have hit him. I think I broke his nose,” he repeated, almost frantic in his insistence. It wasn’t a state you’d seen him in before.

“But he hit you first,” you noted.

Finally, at your childish response, he cracked a small smile. “Weren’t you always the one who said violence was never the answer?” he laughed. His eyes were still glistening with tears, but at least he’d calmed down.

“Usually it isn’t, but I don’t subscribe to universal codes of human conduct anymore,” you told him. “Do you?”

He paused for a bit, staring at you, unable to find the words to reply. You smiled, swiped the tears on his cheeks away with a gentle hand, and got up to put away the first aid kit. It was late, and you were both tired.

“I love you,” Sunghoon said over his shoulder, his voice still thick with emotion. He said that often nowadays, although it wasn’t something he did previously. Neither of you ever felt the need to declare that when you were younger; it was a given.

“I love you too, Hoon,” you replied, still busy trying to make room in the cluttered space under his kitchen sink for the kit.

All the traces of his crying vanished when he next spoke. “No, I’m in love with you.”

You dropped the package of sponges in your hands. Your mind went blank.

There was something about the phrase ‘in love’ that you had never really understood. It implied love was all consuming, like a physical swallowing whole of your being. You felt love for others, but you’d never felt it so much that you were in the state of love.

Until you heard it from him. And then you realised you were already there.

“Say something. Please,” he begged, panicked by your silence.

“Hoon-”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” he mumbled, cutting you off, leaning back against the sofa with a hand over his eyes.

Sunghoon was not an interrupter. In all the years you’d known him, the only time he’d ever interrupted you was during your big final fight in your bedroom, when you’d snitched on him.

You left the first aid kit on the floor and sat down next to him. He didn’t move. You tapped the back of his hand to get him to look at you. Reluctantly, he did, but only through the gaps between his fingers.

“I’m in love with you too,” you admitted.

He was speechless at hearing his words echoed back to him, frozen for a good ten seconds before his gaze flickered down to your lips.

“Can I?” he asked, his voice quiet.

You nodded, and he kissed you. He placed one hand on the back of your neck to pull you closer while his other hand, bruised knuckles and all, grabbed one of your own. He laced your fingers together tightly, like he never wanted to let you go.

Your free hand ghosted over the line of his jaw, past the bandage you’d just put on his face and down his neck to his chest, warm and solid. He shivered under your touch.

“I love you, Hoon,” you breathed when you separated.

He gave you one last quick kiss on the tip of your nose. “I’ll never get tired of hearing that,” he whispered giddily, brushing his thumb across your bottom lip.

For the first few weeks after you reconnected, both of you had tried to return to what you once were. But it quickly became clear that that was never going to happen. Even after you had paved over the road, underneath the new asphalt the old potholes were still there, and nothing you did would ever fully correct them.

You had to look forward. Sunghoon was never going to be your best friend again, not like before. You would never get back your old relationship, full of childlike innocence and void of conflict. But that was okay. You were here, and he was here, and that was enough.

“Then I’ll keep saying it. I love you, I love you, I love you,” you repeated, leaning into his side and laying your head on his shoulder.

“I love you too. So much,” he said, putting his arm around you and letting you tuck your head into the crook of his neck. “You have no idea.”

He was tired of running and hiding from who he used to be, and going on the defensive and lashing out every time he was confronted with his past. He was done torturing his sixteen-year-old self.

You and him had something new. It wasn’t better, it wasn’t more. It was just different. You had your whole lives in front of you — an endless stretch of even, untouched, fresh road — waiting for you, and it would be stupid to focus on what lay behind you. You still had so much left to explore together.

——————————

thanks for reading <3

-minastras

#enhypen #sunghoon #park sunghoon #enhypen x reader #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon angst #enhypen angst #sunghoon imagines #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios

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moralesmilesanhour · 4 months

Text

piece of cake

summary: meeting miles g at a bakery, and other happenings. wc: 3k+ warning: blood, grief (more at the periphery, not a major theme), and lightly implied mommy issues a/n: ngl i was hungry asf when i wrote this. why can't i ever write normal fluff fics anymore. first fic of 2024!!

Brooklyn Middle is closed for winter break. The basketball court where the snow-covered hoop no longer has a net is empty, save for the blinking Christmas lights strung across the chain-link fence.

In a few years, the pizza place across the street where students would linger after school will be demolished, replaced by a shiny new Oscorp building that reflects the sun from all angles of its glass exterior. But for now, the place is just closed early for the holidays, a few blocks away from a bakery.

The tall, bear-like frame of a father dressed in a long black overcoat can be seen entering with a wiry young boy in a red hoodie and bomber jacket tailing close behind. He has an afro as opposed to his father’s closely-cropped hair. The boy keeps trying to straighten his posture - as if his spine would suddenly lengthen and his shoulders would broaden from the act alone. He wants to make himself look important today, because he is on a top-secret mission:

Operation: Get Mom a Cake.

“I think mom’ll like that one.”

The boy points at a slice of tres leches cake sitting behind a glass display. It’s not as flashy as the other decorative cakes drizzled with chocolate and strawberries or encased in pink frosting, but those wouldn’t melt on the tongue the way tres leches did.

His father raised an eyebrow at the plain slice, but the boy looked at him with a certainty that he’d never seen before, through eyes nearly identical to his mother’s. The man knew then that he was getting an expert opinion.

“Alright, if you say so,” he chuckled, adjusting his glasses. “We’ll take that one, Val.”

The boy smiled proudly at the older woman as she handed him the pink box containing the cake. Mission accomplished.

Now, he looks up and frowns at the Oscorp building blocking the view of where his old school used to be as he picks at a slice of cake with a plastic fork.

The ‘Employees Only’ door behind the counter swings open, and Valeria Cruz hobbles out, removing her apron.

“It’s almost your shift, Miles, hurry up and finish that cake.”

Miles takes one more bite before rising from his seat near the entrance and pushing the paper plate and half-eaten slice into a small trash can.

“You got it, Miss V.”

“Did you take out the trash?”

He pauses, and his eyes widen.

“I’mma get that done right now, Miss V!”

The woman sighs, running a hand through gray and white-streaked curls as the teen sprints out the door and back outside.

A forest green puffer jacket rushes past you on the sidewalk. It’s the same one you had seen shuffling out of the back entrance of Val’s bakery the other morning, lugging two black garbage bags with a purple hoodie obscuring the stranger’s face.

He probably works there, then, you think. Good. She could use the help.

The place had been packed the week before Officer Morales’ funeral, and for several weeks after. But over time, business began to slow down to a trickle. Hipster cafés and towering condos sprang up and choked out the little pizza shops and restaurants that took their owners’ last names, like when an invasive species of plant grows taller than the local varieties and smothers them, blocking out the sun.

You had been seeing Val’s face since you were in diapers. Families used to go there for birthdays, for elementary school graduations, middle school graduations - or sometimes just to grab something sweet to eat after church on Sundays. You continued the tradition–even if just to buy a tiny bag of cookies–in the hopes that the place might still be standing for your high school graduation.

The bell above the door rings to signal your entrance. The once baby pink wallpaper has begun to fade, but the late-afternoon sun makes it feel as vibrant as it did when you were twelve. Valeria is standing in front of the display of freshly-baked pastries with her apron folded neatly over her arm.

“Oh, were you about to close up shop?” You begin to take backward steps. “I can come back later–”

“No, no, sweetie, it’s fine!” The woman waves her hand, beckoning you to stay. “I was just about to go on my lunch break. I have someone about to take over for me.”

“It’s cool, I can wait. I saw somebody taking out the trash, that him?”

She sighs wearily, “That’s him, alright. He’s a good kid, but he’s always–”

“Sorry I’m late!”

In rushes Mr. Green Jacket through a chilly gust of wind, who turns to nod in greeting towards you before weaving past Val and behind the counter, where he disappears through the ‘Employees Only’ door.

“That boy, I swear. Never on time!”

He reappears sans the jacket, wearing a white apron identical to the one Val is holding. The name tag on it reads ‘Miles’.

Miles. Where have you heard that name before…?

The hood on his sweater is no longer pulled over his head, revealing two neat cornrows that cascade all the way down his neck. The surrounding hair has been shaved and faded at the nape of his neck and hairline. He’s the sort of brown-skinned that looks golden when the sunlight hits his face as he approaches the cash register.

“You gonna be alright for the next half hour?” asked Val with an eyebrow raised.

Miles drummed his fingers on the counter and grinned. “Yup, I got it.”

“Don’t destroy anything while I’m gone!”

“I won’t, promise.”

She pushes the door open with a skeptical look and leaves.

With this new stranger temporarily in charge, you carefully approach the counter. He looks up at you with curious brown eyes.

“Whatchu want?”

“Um…” you blink before remembering what you were here for. “Just sugar cookies, please.”

“How many?”

“Five.”

He turns to grab a paper bag, then bends to drop the desired amount of cookies into it with the pair of tongs that sit on the inside of the display.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what school you go to? I haven’t seen you around here before, feel like I’d remember you if I had.”

Miles pops his head over the counter and tilts his head with a cheeky grin.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You avoid eye contact, shifting from one foot to the other. Suddenly it’s not so cold anymore.

“I-I don’t know. You just seem memorable.”

He laughs a raspy, breathy laugh and hands you the bag of cookies over the counter. His hand is much larger than yours with slender fingers at the end of it, but still manages to appear almost clumsy-looking. Big enough to be a man’s, but with only half the dexterity.

“I go to Visions.”

“Fancy. You like it over there?”

“It’s aight. Kinda uptight, but my dad always said it was a ‘good opportunity’, so I stayed.”

You hum in consideration.

“Can't do everything for your parents, though. They'll have you living their dreams before you know it.”

The smile fades a bit, and Miles averts his gaze.

“Well my dad passed, so I just figured I’d just do this one thing for him.”

You cover your mouth with your palm.

“I'm so sorry, I–”

“It's fine,” he snorts without any humor. “You might be the only one that doesn't know who my daddy is. Kind of a relief.”

Miles encloses the money you just gave him in the slot beneath the cash register with a loud snap.

“You need anything else?”

You chew on your bottom lip in embarrassment and clutch your bag of cookies.

“No. Thank you.”

He doesn’t look up from the register.

“Have a nice day.”

Your mother is leaning on the window sill, nibbling on a granola bar when you get back home. She’s silent, which means she is observing. You’ll need to tread carefully.

“I brought cookies.”

She gives you a sidelong glance.

“Val’s cookies?”

“Yup, same as always.”

“That lady still working there all by herself?”

“She hired somebody to help out, actually - I saw a boy working the register.”

She notices the upward inflection in your voice at the mention of a boy, which interests her more than the cookies.

“What’s he look like?”

“He’s got, um,” you make a gesture over your head. “Twin braids–cornrows–and a green jacket? Kinda tall, too.”

Your mother nods, thoughtful. The description rings a bell, but she needs to confirm.

“You catch his name?”

“Miles, I think.”

“Lord,” she gasps, fully turning to face you. “That’s that Morales boy! I used to work with his momma, bless her heart. Barely saw his face after the funeral.”

The image of Miles’ face at the mention of his dad makes you cringe at your comment earlier. How could you not recognize him? He practically stole his face from the mural that was plastered above the precinct. You had only heard the boy’s name uttered once by your mother over the phone at 2:00 A.M., whispered like a secret.

“I can’t imagine how it must be for Miles. Didn’t he just get into that nice school down there? Of course they’ll have to let him go home. He should be with his mother.”

“He was such a sweet little boy. Then I saw him the other day?”

She shook her head, “Look like a different person. He had them flashy studs in his ears, nose pierced and everything.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Wouldn’t be surprised if he had tattoos under that coat as well. Damn shame.”

“He seemed nice when I saw him,” you remark quietly in a weak attempt to defend his character, despite having known him for all of five minutes. “Sweet, like you said.”

Your mother’s face hardens, all of her attention now focused on you as she folds the wrapping of the granola bar.

“That’s why you’re not bringing no boys home ‘till you’re eighteen,” she sharply reminds you. “‘Seems nice’ - How you know if he’s really nice or not?”

Again, Miles’ face appears in your mind’s eye. He didn’t seem to want your pity - rejected it, even. And what of his apparent chronic lateness?

Still…

“You don’t know that, either,” you say despite yourself. “I spoke to him while I was there.”

Your mother’s eyes narrow.

“Girl, I know that look. I better not see you runnin’ around with that boy, understand me?”

She looks set on not changing her mind now, so you only nod in defeat.

“Yes, ma’am.”

In your head, you’re already making plans to hit up the bakery tomorrow - both to apologize and to see the sun kissing Miles’ face again. Maybe tomorrow he’d even have the piercings in.

But when you get there the next day under the guise of ‘a trip to the corner store’, Miles isn’t at the register.

The sky has turned a pale shade of gray, and it has begun to drizzle. Pulling your navy blue coat tightly around you, you consider turning back around when–

Boom!

The sound of something hitting a trash can from behind the establishment catches your attention. It could be him taking out the trash at the last minute again.

Your assumption is proven only halfway correct.

Stepping over discarded boxes and tin cans, you find Miles doubled over, clutching his side. “Are you okay?”

Startled, bloodshot eyes glance at you before focusing on the ground.

“Fucking fantastic,” he grunts painfully.

As you get closer, you can see a dark stain blooming from where his hand is. A sick feeling swirls in your stomach.

“Oh my God, do you need me to call somebody?”

“Nah, I’m…I’m straight,” Miles says through labored breaths. “I just gotta…patch myself up before I get home.”

You whip out your phone and frantically unlock it.

“I’m calling an ambulance.”

“Hell no–”

“You are bleeding!”

He tilts his head towards a duffle bag lying near his feet.

“I got First Aid in there…that’ll do me just fine.”

When he tries to reach for the bag, his knees give out, causing him to collapse right next to it.

Miles shivers as you gingerly wrap white bandages around his waist, the flat expanse of skin on his stomach partially exposed to the elements. He fades in and out of consciousness, between your face and black nothingness. When he’s awake, he stares up at you in disbelief.

“I didn’t call 9-1-1, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you tell him with a grin. “This should stop the bleeding, but I can’t help you beyond that.”

“Wusyaname?” he mumbles, head lolling towards you. He’s on the brink of passing out again.

“Call me (Y/N).”

“Wasn’t gon’ call you anything else.”

“Shut up, I just saved your life.”

“Mmmm-hm,” Miles hums with a lazy smile that makes you wonder if he’s becoming delirious.

“Eeeeverybody loves sayin’ that. Everybody always…”

His eyelids get heavy before he can finish the thought, and he finally blacks out again in your lap.

There’s a short line inside the bakery that weekend, and you wonder if Miles has anything to do with it.

Word seemed to get around mysteriously fast that the former teenaged recluse had come out of hiding after that conversation (if you could even call it that) with your mother. From where you’re sitting–by the window, nibbling on a sugar cookie, observing–Miles does not seem to enjoy the attention.

Or maybe you’re just imagining the strained smile on his face as the line of customers becomes a Greek chorus of gasps and squeals.

“You got so big!”

“What did you do to your hair?”

“Oh, you look just like Jeff.”

“How’s Rio?”

“Good to see you out and about again.”

The sparkling curiosity is nearly drained from his face by the time he joins you at the end of his shift with a slice of cake. He does not have the fabled nose piercing in, but two diamond studs sparkle when the light hits them every time he moves his head.

“So?”

“So…?”

“Are you alright after I found you the other day? I saw you limping back there.”

Miles rolls his eyes.

“I’m fine. My mom’s literally a nurse. She got me straight.”

“What’d you tell her? Looked like you broke a rib.”

“Far as she’s concerned, I fell off my bike.”

“I’ve never seen you on a bike.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t have one.”

You shrug. Touche.

“What did you have to say to me that was worth stalking me after my shift?”

“Stalking?”

“You buy the same thing every time, you think I ain’t notice?” Miles smirks, like a detective who’s just gotten a confession. “Who goes to a bakery and only gets cookies?”

“Lay off me, man, these are excellent,” you take another bite for emphasis. “Anyways, I actually came to apologize.”

His brows furrow in confusion. “For what?”

“For what I said the first time I saw you. I didn’t know you were that Miles.”

The corners of Miles’ lips pull downwards into a frown.

“That’s it?”

“Mm, well…”

You bite your lip by force of habit.

“I also wanted to talk to you again. Under better circumstances. That your favorite type of cake?”

Miles looks down at his plate when you point to it with your fork, as if he’s seeing it for the first time.

“Yeah, tres leches. What about it?”

“I dunno, I just always see you eating that and nothing else. Is there a reason?”

You expect to say something about the sweetness, or the texture, but instead he answers:

“It always tastes the same.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, like…” He puts down his fork and starts to construct an analogy in his head.

“It’s like when you see an ice cream truck. You run up to it before it drives off, and what do you ask for? First thing that pops into your head?”

“Vanilla?”

“Exactly. You could try one of the other ones, but what if it tastes like ass? Now you stuck eating something you don’t like–”

“And it’s a waste of money.”

“Exactly!” Miles laughs. “You get it. My mom makes fun of me because I’ve been eating the same thing since I was five. But it’s always good! And the same amount of good.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

You tap your nails on the table, thinking.

“But what if you find a new flavor that you really like?”

He shrugs, “Then lucky me, I guess. But that doesn’t tend to happen.”

“It could happen, though.”

He watches the strange way you eat. Slowly, teeth-first, as if you’re afraid to make a mess. It’s weirdly dainty, which makes him chuckle beneath his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Uh-uh, don’t do that. What’s so funny?”

Miles gives you that same head tilt again.

“It’s cute, the way you eat.”

Your hand freezes just as it’s about to lift another cookie to your mouth, and you stare at him blankly.

“That’s…”

He pauses too.

“...Weird, yeah. Sorry. I dunno why I said that.”

A beat of silence passes that’s so heavy with awkwardness, that the two of you can’t help but burst into poorly-stifled laughter.

You lean forward with your chin resting in your hand. “That’s fine. I kept coming here just to spy on you, so I guess I’m weird, too.”

“Ah, so you admit it!”

“Hey, if I wasn’t bein’ a total creep, you might’ve bled out next to the garbage dump. Val can’t lose a valuable employee, right?”

“If you put it that way.”

You can see the white of some of Miles’ teeth peeking out as he smiles. One of his canines is charmingly crooked, and sharper than the others. When the smile fades, he suddenly looks uncertain.

“Can I ask you a question this time?”

“Ask away.”

“Do you wanna make this,” he gestures between you, “like, a regular thing? Y’know, ‘meeting under better circumstances’.”

It’s your turn for a smile to spread across your face.

“We should. Whatever you did to end up bleeding out in the rain, I guess I’d be a witness now.”

“M-hm. Can’t have you yappin’ about that to my customers,” He plays along, then winks. “I’mma need your number too, just in case.”

Just before you reach for your phone in your pocket, you hear your mother’s voice in your head, casting a shadow over the whole thing and giving you pause.

All jokes aside, Miles had never explained what had landed him in that predicament behind the bakery in the first place. He’s always late. He lies to his mother. You’re about to lie to your mother.

But the sun is hitting his face again, and with the light bouncing off of his pupils, he looks like he couldn’t hurt a fly. The shadow remains at the corner of your eye. Just the corner.

You grin and hand him your phone.

“You got it. Just in case.”

#miles morales x reader #miles morales x black!reader #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #prowler!miles #moralesanhour

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giorno-plays-piano · 3 months

Text

Binary Star

Part I

Pairing: academic rival!Satoru Gojo x reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, power play, hurt/comfort, no curse au, this series will get darker as the story progresses.

Words: 1.2k

Summary: It has to pay off, he thinks as he waits for the headmaster to finally announce the valedictorian, knowing she is there too, shifting from one foot to the other impatiently. What face is she going to make when his name will be called? Is she going to cry? To yell at him and publicly demand a re-evaluation? Or will she, perhaps, finally admit he's done a fantastic job and won fair and square?

____________

He is really going to get her this time. This is the finish line, quite literally: the graduation; his last attempt to win and emerge victorious from the very last battle between him and her. It has to be it.

If he couldn't win against her for the last time, Gojo would probably have a mental breakdown right in the middle of the ceremony. Geto standing right next to him rolls his eyes to the ceiling over his friend who's shaking from excitement and fear. Of course, Satoru wouldn't admit it even under torture, but Suguru knows better. The girl his friend has been competing with throughout high school isn't just smart: she's completely insane like Gojo and as big pain in the ass as him. Who knows, perhaps she'll really win this round. He prefers not to think of it.

Satoru searches for her in the crowd, standing on his toes despite already being a foot taller than anyone else in the hall. Is she here? This nightmarish woman who has been pushing him to give high school his all because she dared to take away his crown of the best student during their freshman year? When Satoru saw the scores, he thought he might have had a heart attack. There was no way he was no longer #1.

"That's what you get for messing around the chem lab," Shoko snorted while Satoru dumbly stared at the name of that annoying girl, always the teachers' pet, heading the list. His name was written right under hers.

What the actual fuck?! She got a better score than him? Him, the genius, with his undeniably superior IQ of 180 that he flaunted at any given time? Who did she think she was, Sheldon Cooper or something?

It got him so fired up he actually started studying.

"You're so dumb," Geto eventually said after his friend had gotten in the argument with the girl during their ethics class - again. "You know you could be making out with her now, right? She's the only person who could actually get along with your stubborn ass."

"Wha-a-at? What about you?" Immediately disregarding his question, Satoru was already pouting like a kid. "Wouldn't you date me?"

"Yeah, over my dead fucking body."

To be fair, it's not that Gojo never thought of her that way - she was pretty, even if he was never going to admit it out loud - but she was also so insufferable Gojo really couldn't focus on anything else but beating her in that game they were playing. The best score on the history exam? They both wanted it. Math test? Him and her were working on those questions as if their lives depended on it. Biology project? Satoru made sure to do the impossible, submitting something he would get a Noble prize for, and yet he still somehow managed to get the same grade as her. It was absolutely infuriating.

Why on Earth did she decide she could be better than him? He was Satoru Gojo, after all. The one and only son of Gojo family, who was not only embarrassingly rich but also fucking smart - his parents used to flaunt his talents throughout his whole childhood and continued doing it well into adulthood. He couldn't tell them he was no longer #1. What would his mother say? Dear God, it was hard to imagine what would happen to his father of he learned some random girl got a better grade for that English paper than him. It was, at the very least, unbecoming of Satoru.

But she was unrelenting, irritated with his status of the school genius, and ready to fight him on every occasion. Satoru had no idea what could piss her off so much - in the end, he was the most charming guy around, wasn't he? - but there wasn't a day she'd let him have his way. She was brave, persistent, and knowledgeable, and he hated her very much.

The fact that Shoko and Suguru were asking him to please get together with her and stop antagonizing the whole school only riled up Gojo even more. As if he was going to date that nerd!

When he learned she'd be running for the valedictorian, it was the last drop. No fucking way. She couldn't take it away from him - even if he had never actually cared about being a valedictorian.

If his friends had thought he was obessessing over her, now they realized Satoru went completely nuts. He started studying so much he barely slept: it was a given, considering the bags under his eyes were making his skinny ass look like a starving raccoon. Geto couldn't drag gim out even in between lessons because Satoru was immediately burying his head in the books.

It has to pay off, he thinks as he waits for the headmaster to finally announce the valedictorian, knowing she is there too, shifting from one foot to the other impatiently. What face is she going to make when his name will be called? Is she going to cry? To yell at him and publicly demand a re-evaluation? Or will she, perhaps, finally admit he's done a fantastic job and won fair and square?

Pfft, of course she won't. She'll probably stab him in the parking lot once he tries to get into his car.

But when the headmaster finally announces the results, and his, Satoru Gojo's, name is called, he no longer sees her in the crowd, and the sweet taste of victory suddenly turns to ashes in his mouth.

Where is she? She couldn't have known it would be him. To be frank, he didn't either. How could she leave right before the results were announced?

He gives his speech with a stupid smile plastered all over his face, but his mood has already soured. She had to be there to hear he was named this year's valedictorian! What face did she make? Did she leave right after she heard it wasn't her? Did she cry? Did she run away because she couldn't take it? Wasn't she going to say to him anything at all?

How could she just... vanish?

He doesn't know why he expected her to be the bigger person and come tell him he did great, but he truly did. Suddenly, he realizes he wants her to look him in the face and say he is good enough.

Did he need to be the bigger person, perhaps? But, wait, isn't he a bigger person by default because he's the winner, he wondered. The winner is always the bigger person if he doesn't rub loser's face in the dirt, right?

In the end, he couldn't even enjoy the victory he had been craving for so long.

"She had something urgent come up," Shoko says later in the restaurant, making a tsk-ing sound while Gojo listens to her with a frown on his face. "Something about her family."

Something about her family? What could be as important as the announcement of valedictorian?

"Are you dumb?" With a sigh, Suguru cocks his head to the side. "Plenty of things are more important than this valedictorian crap."

Maybe to somebody else, but not to her, Satoru thinks. Beating him has always been the only thing on her mind, and nothing could have changed that.

__________

He will be mulling over it for a long, long time once he realizes she did not follow him to Harvard despite her scholarship.

Part II

Tags: @minshookie29

#yandere #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk satoru

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jinnie-ret · 7 months

Note

ok but imagine chans sister comes to visit the boys and gets attacked by saesangs. comfort from chan as well as his own guilt that it happened?? while the boys do their best to fix everything and make it okay? my love for angsty fics is really showing damn

cold water

stray kids x reader (platonic)

genre: angst, angst, and more angst

content warnings: saesangs, violence, drowning

word count: 3.3k

summary: when chan's sister pays the boys a visit in Seoul, during their S-CLASS mv shooting, no one could have expected the day to end the way it would.

Thank you so much for this request! I've been trying to write it for the past couple of days because this idea instantly popped into my head, I hope it fulfills the angst you've been looking for!

As always, like, reblog if you enjoyed, and my asks are open for any requests you may have. And let me know if you'd like to be tagged when I post :)

MAIN MASTERLIST

Y/N was glad to finally settle down in Seoul after her flight from Sydney. She was excited to see Bang Chan again, it had been a while as she hadn't been able to fly over with Hannah and go to their concerts, too busy with her school work. You see, Y/N always dreamed of being a director, and so when Chan had offered her to come watch them film their newest music video for their upcoming title track, S-CLASS, she couldn't deny his offer. Especially since he had promised that it would be a new experience for not just her, but for him and the rest of the boys too.

And boy was he right. If you had asked Y/N if she was going on a nighttime shoot, on a boat, in the middle of Han River, she would have laughed in your face, but her brother was big time now, and as much as she'd tease him and deny it, she was proud of Bang Chan. He even managed to get a comment along those lines from her earlier in the day.

"Y/Nnie, aren't you proud of your big bro?" Chan bounced around happily, excited for his younger sister to be staying with them, shaking her shoulders at the same time.

"Yeah, yeah," she rolled her eyes, unable to hide her growing smile as she stood in the entrance of the dorms he shared with Changbin, Han, and Hyunjin.

Speaking of, they all appeared, hearing the commotion of their leader and someone else.

"Woah, is that you, Y/N? You've grown!" Han patted her head as he greeted her.

"Not by much," she laughed, ducking away when the head pats turned into borderline hair ruffling, and no one touches her hair.

"Who knows, maybe you'll be taller than Changbinnie!" Hyunjin laughed.

"There's no way, Y/N got the small genes too, just like me and Hannah, Lucas is the only one who is tall out of us siblings," Chan sighed.

"It's so annoying. We're twins. He's got height to spare, why couldn't he give me some of it?" Y/N whined, causing Chan to laugh at her.

"Ah, join us on the dark side Y/N," Chan gestured to him and the other 2 members of 3RACHA.

"I'm in a dorm full of shorties," Hyunjin shook his head.

"Surprise, shawtyyyy," Y/N did some jazz hands, causing Han and Chan to laugh because they got the reference.

"Anyways let's drop your bags off in the spare room, then we can grab something to eat and head to the shoot, yeah?" Chan suggested as he picked up Y/N's luggage and carried it with him.

"Sounds good to me," Y/N nodded as she followed along.

Best. Dinner. Ever.

Bulgogi. Fried chicken. Kimchi. It was a proper feast. Although, the boys didn't have too much as they said they didn't want to feel bloated during the shoot, and they'd probably get some more food later. Y/N wouldn't be able to turn down that offer too, especially since her brother was paying for it all.

"So how old are you now, Y/Nnie?" Seungmin asked as she traveled with the other boys to their shoot.

"I'm 17," Y/N replied, the boys letting out noises of surprise.

"I remember when we debuted, you were only 12!" Felix gasped.

"Well, times have changed haha, it's been like 5 years, you know, you guys have been doing this for a small while now," Y/N pointed out. Of course she wasn't going to be a child forever.

"That makes me feel old," Lee Know sighs, throwing his head back against the headrest in the car.

"Well, you are the oldest one in here hyung," Jeongin patted his shoulder condescendingly.

"Yah! Our driver hyung is older than me!" Lee Know replied, turning around and staring daggers at his youngest member.

Y/N couldn't help but giggle at the interactions they had. She was glad her brother was surrounded by such good people. She knew he had found it tough before when he saw his other trainee friends debut, not fully realising how isolating that must have been until a few years ago now.

"You know, you're pretty cool, Chris," Y/N stared in awe at the boat they were about to board.

"Thanks, sis," he wrapped her in a small side hug, not teasing her this time yet still having a bashful expression on his face.

They all boarded the boat, staff, crew, members. Not realising the two suspicious hooded figures following them on and instantly hiding. In fact, Y/N thought she saw something out of the corner of her eye, jolting around so suddenly she caught the attention of Chan once more.

"You good?" he raised an eyebrow at her, looking around now also.

"Thought I saw something... it's probably nothing," Y/N brushed it off.

"It's probably jet lag," Chan guessed, and Y/N nodded along anyways. It had been a long flight over, and she was feeling her energy slowly drop. Yet that didn't stop her from eagerly trying to pick up every detail of the shoot, from the camera angles, to how many takes it took the boys on different scenes, and to other unseen aspects of the shoot.

"So let me get this right, they're going to CGI a massive octopus in?" Y/N said with wide eyes, wondering why it would be there.

"Yeah, and?" Felix shrugged.

"And Seungmin is going to dance next to it for some reason?" Y/N clasped her hands behind her back.

"So?" Han shrugged. These sorts of ideas weren't really anything out of the ordinary for them.

"That's sick!" Y/N cheered in English, making the boys jump from her sudden mood change they witnessed, thinking she was criticising what was happening at first. They now understood she was just an excitable girl.

She had been diligently taking down notes on her phone the whole time, taking photos also. The crew had been worried at first that she'd reveal spoilers for the filming, but Chan reassured them all that Y/N was a good kid and she wouldn't do anything like that.

"Hey, Chris, is there a toilet on here?" two girls crouched on a lower part of the boat heard Y/N ask her brother. Of course they recognised the girl when they snuck on earlier. They were fans before their likes turned to obsessions, so of course they knew that Y/N was Chan's sister.

"Just downstairs one and to the left," they heard Chan reply and had to hide their squeals. Maybe if they saw Y/N, they could pretend to be best friends with her and then get closer to Chan. And then, once they got closer to Chan, they could become closer with the other members too.

Delusion was a disease.

Y/N put her phone torch light on as she headed down one flight of stairs and entered the bathroom, a light flickering on instantly. She went to enter a cubicle before a bright light shined in her face and left her wincing and feeling startled.

In reality, it was the two saesang girls' best bet in getting away before they were caught. And they didn't even feel bad for what they did. It's not like they went to the extremes of using a laser.

"Ah," Y/N winced as she rubbed her eyes, but she ignored it and soon returned upstairs.

"Are you ok? You look a bit disoriented," Hyunjin checked on the younger girl as he took a break, getting his hair and clothes touched up and adjusted.

"Yeah, I'm fine, just, a bit, I don't know," Y/N didn't know what else to say. She had a bad feeling now, swearing she had heard some giggles and footsteps running away from her after she was temporarily blinded.

"Is being on the boat all too much?" Seungmin asked, feeling bad for the girl who looked dazed.

"Hey, Y/N, why don't you take a moment, yeah, I know all the cameras and lights can be a bit overwhelming," Chan came over as soon as he heard the tone difference in the voices of his group.

"Ok, I'll just be round that corner, I'm going to look out at the river," Y/N told him, receiving a satisfied nod in response as she walked off. Perhaps all she needed really was just a breather. Yes, all the set and ideas were amazing, but it was very fast paced. What happened to their song, 'My Pace'?

Y/N giggled to herself, looking out at the water before she heard people approach her from behind.

"Chris, I still need some time-"

"Ah, so you are his sister..." one of the girls, looking around 20 years old, and staring down Y/N.

"Oh, are you staff here? Sorry, Chris, umm, Chan said it was okay to come down here, but I can move if-"

"No, why don't you stay?" the other girl evily smiled.

"Well, if you're sure..." Y/N nodded and turned back towards the water, before her head was yanked back and she fell to the floor of the boat with a thud.

"Hey!" Y/N shouted, but her mouth was instantly covered.

"You're going to give us exactly what we want, isn't that right?" a harsh voice whispered into her ear with gritted teeth. But Y/N shook her head pleadingly, not wanting to be caught up in anything violent.

"Stupid!" she was slapped across the face, letting out a whimper from the pain before she was pinned to the ground.

"Listen here, you little bitch. You may think you're living the high life as Chan's sister but you've got it all wrong. Now, you're going to walk back up there with and introduce us properly to that lovely brother of yours, pretend we got lost down here, just two staff members gone missing," a girl squeezed her wrists tight as Y/N couldn't move from her position.

"Ow, shit. Get off!" Y/N struggled in their grip, feeling terrified. This is certainly not what she expected when she came to visit her brother for an innocent work experience trip.

"Do it, now," they hauled her up and pushed her back towards where everyone else was working.

"I don't have to do anything you tell me. I'll just call the police and-" Y/N bravely began as she held up her phone but it was soon knocked out of her hands, and sink into the depths of the Han River.

"Oops," a girl innocently giggled.

"Are you out of your mind?!" Y/N shouted loudly, loud enough that she would be heard by the others, particularly her older brother who was due to go down and check on her because he thought she had been taking too long.

"Some may say that," the two girls cackled maniacally amongst themselves, like it was the best inside joke in the world.

"That was my phone! It had everything on it! I need it!" Y/N shouted once more, Chan, Lee Know and Changbin's footsteps becoming more rushed now. The other two immediately joined Chan on the way when they too heard the shouting.

Y/N had a pair of hands wrapped around her throat, the other unoccupied as the owner of them smirked and simply whispered.

"Aw, you better go get it then."

In a split second, Chan and the rest of the hyung line watched as Y/N was hurled over the edge of the boat, screaming as she fell before a splash was heard.

"Y/N!!!" Chan screamed in complete and utter panic. It was dark, it was cold, and now his sister was forced to try and stay afloat in such freezing temperatures like the waters of Han River.

"Are you crazy?!" Lee Know yelled at the two girls, who were excited to see the boys, not realising the consequences of their actions.

"Y/N!!! Y/N!!! Can you hear me?!" Chan heartbreakingly yelled as he looked over the edge of the boat railings and tried to see the head of his sister pop up.

Y/N felt her airways open before she cold help it. Ice cold water, working its way through her body as it traveled to her lungs and caused her to let out muffled pleas for help, trying to swim to the surface.

"Somebody get help! Someone fell in the water!!" Changbin used his loud voice to his advantage as he signalled the emergency crew with a lifeboat to drop down into the water and try and find Y/N.

"No, no, no, I can't believe this, no..." Chan whimpered, hands clenching onto the railing so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.

"Chan, it's ok, they'll find her," Felix had come up behind him, trying to calm him down even though he himself was feeling the exact same way. All of the boys were. There was anger, there was panic, there was... grief too. Nothing had been confirmed, but the what ifs flying through everyone's minds had killed the thoughts in their brains telling them that there was still a chance.

"I can't see her!!! I can't see her!!!" Chan paced, running his fingers through his hair as he cried. He cried so hard. The members couldn't remember the last time they saw their leader like this. But he was a family man, through and through. He'd do anything to protect those around him, especially those close to him.

"Get rid of these girls!" Han lead over some staff members to the two saesangs who had been stood starstruck the whole time Lee Know cussed them out, only infuriating him more.

"Y/N!" Hyunjin tried.

"Y/Nnie!" Seungmin tried.

"Y/N!" Jeongin tried.

They all tried calling her but there was no luck so far. The boat had been deployed into the river and it had bright lights reflecting off of the water, hoping to catch sight of Y/N.

"I should have protected her! I promised her!" Chan angrily pointed out towards the water, tears continuously falling as his members wrapping him in their arms comfortingly and trying to keep him calm

"Y/N! I see her! To the right! She's there!" Lee Know yelled down at the boat operators, who quickly jumped into action as they grabbed the shivering girl, trying to make sure she was breathing as they transported her onto land, where the boys on the boat were now pulling in too.

Y/N didn't remember much of what happened. Her body slowly became more and more numb, yet it carried her to the surface of the water, where she fortunately was floating on her back. She coughed and spluttered, and it seemed to let her breathe with a bit more improvement. Or maybe it was when she was wrapped in a foil blanket, hearing shouts of her name and feeling the rocking of a boat as she was moved somewhere.

The ground felt flat. But she couldn't mistake the warmth of her brother, even in her haziness.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry this happened to you, my Y/Nnie. I won't let anyone come near you ever again, I'll protect you. Chris is sorry, Y/N," Chan cried as he held his sister tightly against him, wrapping the blanket tighter around her and not caring about the discomfort he felt from sitting down in his tight leather trousers. Tears rolled down his cheeks, the other members gathered around and looking shaken up too, hands over there mouth or a supportive hand on Chan's shoulder.

"Please, can we pause the filming? I need to make sure she's ok," Chan pleaded with the staff, who immediately and wordlessly nodded at him, feeling incredibly upset themselves at what had happened. They had seen the brightness in the girl's eyes, when she asked them questions about how things worked and why they did them.

"We're all here for you, hyung," Changbin kneeled down next to Bang Chan and wrapped an arm around his shoulder at the same time. He knew how tough Chan could be on himself, and this was going to eat him up for weeks, maybe even years.

Y/N coughed, becoming aware of her surroundings and momentarily thrashing around before a gentle voice calmed her in an instant.

"Y/N, I've got you love, I've got you yeah, you're ok, you're alive," Chan tried not to let his voice break as he squeezed her tighter in his arms.

"The, girls, pushed, couldn't breathe," Y/N spluttered, her words coming out jumbled as flashes of the situation that just happened flushed through her mind.

"Sssh, sssh, I know, I know, but you're safe now, yeah?" Chan did his best to reassure her and stop her mind from going into overdrive, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Sir, we should really call get her to a hospital, she may have secondary drowning. We can't risk anything."

Within a heartbeat Chan was nodding, medics coming over as she was lifted into the back of an ambulance, and now, instead of Y/N, he was the one who was frozen.

"Hyung, come on, you need to go with her, we'll follow behind," Felix ushered him to stand.

"She... she nearly..." Chan spoke in disbelief, not wanting to finish his sentence as reality hit him hard like a truck.

"But she didn't," Lee Know said firmly, "go with her," he pushed him towards the ambulance.

Chan sat numbly in the ambulance, hand holding his little sister's, the youngest Bahng. What would his parents say? He had failed them, failed Y/N, failed his duty as an older brother. He was so lost in his thoughts he didn't even realise they had arrived at the hospital, and Y/N seemed to be more with it than before as she was being carted out the back of the ambulance.

"No, wait, Chan, I want my brother," Y/N whimpered as he went out of her sight, trying to tell the paramedics that she needed him. The other members had arrived too but she needed only one person with her.

"Hyung, we're here now, she needs you," Jeongin drags his oldest hyung out of the ambulance towards Y/N.

Chan stayed with her until she was discharged. He had no second thoughts to any news articles that would be dispatched, or what the company would say. All that was running through his mind was family, family, family.

"Chris?" Y/N weakly said from her bed. Well, it wasn't her bed technically. It was the one that belonged to the spare room in the dorms. She laid there wondering why this had to happen to her. If it wasn't for those saesangs...

"What is it? You need something to eat? Are you in pain?" Chan fussed over her.

"It's not your fault," Y/N whispered. Her quiet words shattered something in Chan's heart.

"Don't," he shook his head.

"I know that look, Chris, just don't blame yourself. It was those girls. You didn't push me into the river," Y/N spoke quietly, trying to make eye contact with her brother but he couldn't even look her in the eyes.

"Don't talk about it!"

"Look at me!" Y/N shouted, putting all her effort into using her voice and causing her to start coughing.

This made Chan go into high alert as he sat her up and patted her back instantly, like it was habit, just as he would have done when he first held her at the age of ten.

"I need you, Chris, please don't get lost in your own head, I need you here with me," Y/N teared up, and Chan knew that she didn't mean physically being there. This was a whole other matter.

"I'm sorry, it's okay, Y/Nnie, I'm here," Chan hugged her tightly, feeling her relax.

"I can't stop thinking about it," Y/N cried, shoulders shaking.

"This should have never happened to you," Chan wiped her tears gently.

"I promise you, you will never come to any harm again, ok? Me and the boys, we'll help you recover, we'll take care of you. No one will ever hurt you again, Y/Nnie, I swear."

tagged: @skz-streamer @oo-li

#skz #stray kids #stray kids x reader #skz angst #skz fluff #skz x reader #straykids imagines #skz fic #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #stray kids angst #stray kids sister #skz sister #skz imagines #stray kids fic #straykids angst

684 notes · View notes

tonicandjins · 10 months

Text

all of the girls you loved before

CHARACTERS: lee donghyuck | haechan x fem reader

WORD COUNT: 3k

GENRE: best friends to lovers, all of the girls you loved before by taylor swift

WARNINGS: none, just fluff

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this has been in my drafts for way too long. hope you like it! please consider donating/tipping me

all of the girls you loved before is the fourth installment from 23 moments with donghyuck

lee naeun, June 2013 - July 2013

Lee Donghyuck’s first love turned out to be the quickest one.

It was a whirlwind romance, like how he would describe it whenever you’d ask him. At thirteen, you and Donghyuck were finally catching up to the rest of your homeroom’s growing pains—both literally and figuratively. Your legs were longer now, albeit Donghyuck’s becoming longer than almost everyone else’s, and you were prettier than most. Letting your bangs grow was a wise decision in the summer, after all. Long gone were your chubby cheeks and you’d learned how to put on some lip tint before jumping on the bus to school. The internet was a better teacher when it comes to styling your hair; you’d never expected hairstyles come with face shapes. Meanwhile, Donghyuck, though his cheeks are still as round as they were in primary school, has learned that the hugs and kisses he used to give everyone in homeroom erupted butterflies all over.

You’d wondered, of course, because among everyone in class, Donghyuck’s probably given you the most hugs and kisses, yet you haven’t quite figured out what they meant when they say he gives people butterflies.

In the same year, Donghyuck learned consent. His mother and father gave him a lecture on why kissing people randomly isn’t ideal at his age and why consent is important. Hence, he’d stopped giving everyone random kisses. The last one he’d kissed you on the cheek was a week before summer started—not that you were keeping a record of all the stolen kisses—right when you were about to jump off the bus you and him were on.

Lee Naeun gave the first consent at thirteen. On the last day of classes.

She was moving to the US the next school year. Donghyuck made you wait by the benches as she packed up her duffel back after soccer practice.

She was taller than everyone else. Sporty and ambitious, Lee Naeun was every boy’s kryptonite. Just like how Lee Donghyuck was every girl’s.

“Can I kiss you?” Donghyuck asked. Naeun blushed like crazy. She was taller than Donghyuck, so when she’d nodded, Donghyuck had to go on his tip toes to reach her lips.

You looked away when Donghyuck got his first real kiss, wondering if the sudden pain in your stomach is the same as the butterflies that people get when Donghyuck kisses them.

kim haerin, August 2016 - January 2018

Kim Haerin was Donghyuck’s girlfriend all throughout junior high school.

Contrary to popular belief, Haerin pursued Donghyuck from the first week of classes. You and Donghyuck had moved to a different school after middle school as the one in your hometown didn’t focus much on arts, leaning towards STEM more, which, if you and Donghyuck were being honest, is the last thing you’d want to do in high school. This also meant that you and Donghyuck were new in town—the new girl and the new guy—and that people your age were particularly curious about you and Donghyuck that school year.

Oddly enough, the first thing they needed to confirm was whether you and him were dating. As soon as it was a clear no, you and Donghyuck received flowers left and right. You wondered whether this is what high school should be like and expected Donghyuck to feel the same, but that school year was different. The people liked the extroverted, friends with everybody Donghyuck, so it was easier for him to adjust to the new place and the new people.

They’d started dating the week after school started. Haerin was a part of a big group, the ones who’d studied in the school’s sister middle school down the road, and she knew everyone. She was nice, or so you’ve heard because you didn’t have that many conversations with her to confirm if she truly is, and she’d say hi to you when you passed by her by the lockers.

Donghyuck tried to take you with him whenever they’d hang out, of course, but his attempts could only do much because you weren’t into the same things as they were. Eventually, you’d found your own group and adjusted to the new school all by yourself. It made you worry about Donghyuck less whenever you’d see him all happy and loud like the person he is. While Donghyuck’s name stuck with Haerin’s all throughout high school, yours remain independent. You’d decided you’d start dating when you’re ready.

The only times you’d see each other, apart from the classes you shared, were weekends with your families. You and him talk, of course. Donghyuck at home is different from Donghyuck at school. But it was different. The memories of you and him going to and from school gradually blurred between all the people you’d met in high school.

Kim Haerin broke up with Donghyuck as soon as you all came back from Christmas break on the last year of junior high. She’d started dating the new guy from the other class who transferred all the way from Germany. She’d given Donghyuck a kiss in the middle of the empty gymnasium and told him she’d loved him but the sparks were gone.

Donghyuck waited with you on the bus stop that same day. To this day, he waits with you.

im jieun, November 2019 – December 2019

Im Jieun was one of a kind, and if you could pick, she was your favorite from Donghyuck’s long list of lovers.

She was a couple of years older than you and Donghyuck. How Donghyuck even got the slimmest chance of dating her, you have no idea. She was a freshman in college. You and Donghyuck met her at one of your seniors’ birthday party; they’d hit it off easily. They had the same personality, almost like twins, and were pretty much the perfect couple in your newly found friend group.

That year was the most life changing for him because Donghyuck lost his virginity with her, and for quite some time, similar to when he’d dated Kim Haerin, he disappeared from your life, and not that you’d cared at much at that time because you were also dating your first boyfriend, Na Jaemin.

Jaemin was everything a first boyfriend should be. Gentle and sweet, determined and future-driven, truly the kind you’d want your parents to meet. He’s been in the same class as you since junior high, but he wasn’t the kind to approach women that easily. He was brought up loyal and kind, and it showed with the way he treated you. He asked you out on a dinner for the first date, at an amusement park for the second, and a picnic by the park for the third—which was the same day he officially asked you as his girlfriend.

When Donghyuck had learned, he was as surprised as a best friend would be.

“You never told me you liked Jaemin,” he commented when you’d told him the news. He was sitting on the swivel gaming chair you and him bought as pairs right beside your bed, where you were still half asleep because he barged in at seven on a Sunday morning. Apparently, he learned it because he saw Jaemin’s Instagram story from your date with him last night.

“Because I didn’t,” you groggily replied. You squinted, trying to make up your mind whether Donghyuck’s a dream or not. “I mean, I like him now. But it didn’t occur to me until he started asking me out for dates.”

Donghyuck leaned his head against your chair, kicking his feet off the floor to spin himself around. “You never even told me you went out on dates.”

You giggled. “Are you sulking now, Donghyuck?”

He sighed. “I tell you all about the girls I date. Even the ones I dream on dating. And this one time you finally decided to start dating, I wasn’t there for you.”

You sat up, watching as your child-like best friend spins himself dizzy on your chair. “Check your phone. Every time Jaemin and I went out, I texted you.”

He sighed again, pressing his foot on your bedroom’s floor, stopping so he could look at you eye to eye. “You didn’t tell me it was a date. You said you were having dinner with him, going to the amusement with him, and hanging out with him at the park.”

“We’re 19,” you pointed out. “What would 19-year olds do alone together?”

Donghyuck tilted his head sideways. “You and I are always alone together.”

“It’s different.” You throw a pillow at Donghyuck, kicking off the blanket from your body and moving to give him some space to lay on. “Come here, you big baby.”

Donghyuck’s mouth formed into a pout but occupied the space on your bed anyway.

“I’m a big girl,” you reminded him as he rested his head on your chest. “I don’t need you to be there for me on my first relationship.”

“Ouch,” he mumbled.

“I will always need you in my life, Donghyuck,” you clarified, knowing well how Donghyuck hates being not needed. “Just, not for this one. I might actually, truly like Jaemin. He’s a good guy.”

Donghyuck hummed. “But I’m still your best friend, right?”

You laughed. Because it’s the most ridiculous thing you’d ever heard. Donghyuck will always be your best friend. You were certain no relationship would break that. You and him were past being insecure about your friendship.

“Always.”

Donghyuck broke up with Jieun before Christmas break. The reason, you have no idea. But he’d told you it wasn’t as fun as it was in the beginning anymore. And Jieun was in university, after all, and you and him had SATs to pass and college essays to ace before the school year ends.

You and Jaemin took him out for clubbing that night, in hopes of cheering him up. It was a mystery to you why he’d suddenly decided to end it when the relationship seemed like it was smooth-sailing. They’d even talk about Donghyuck going to the same university as Jieun next year. You didn’t recall any fights within the relationship, so you wonder why.

Donghyuck leaves the club without you and Jaemin.

lee naeun (again), February 2020 – April 2020

Donghyuck learned from Lee Jeno that his first love returned from the US to take her bachelor’s degree in Seoul on Valentine’s day. He found her wandering around SNU’s main lobby on the first day of the spring semester. You and Donghyuck were visiting the university after receiving your acceptance letters, looking for an apartment to share. Jaemin was going to another university, so it wasn’t wise for you and him to move in together, hence Donghyuck offered to move in with you to save up some money for rent and other expenses.

Lee Naeun stood there, still taller than Donghyuck, still the first person who ever kissed Donghyuck’s lips, still the first person you’d ever compared yourself to, wondering what she had that you didn’t.

Like the day they kissed in 2013, you looked away when Donghyuck finally reached to where she stood, wondering why, all of a sudden, many years later, the butterflies were flying all over in your stomach once again.

ginny williams, September 2020 – October 2020

Of course, the first woman that Donghyuck officially dated in university is from the UK. Jeno said he only dated her to show everyone he’s immensely improved in English.

The break-up was proof Donghyuck never improved in English. He didn’t even understand why she was breaking up with him.

park yesol, September 2021 – February 2022

You introduced Donghyuck to Park Yesol because it’s what she wanted for her birthday.

She had invited you to her 21st birthday. You and her, if you were being honest, barely know each other. You only shared a class in Literature once, so at first, it was a mystery to you why she suddenly invited you. When she’d asked if you could ask Donghyuck to RSVP with you, you’d known that it’s all she wanted from you.

Eventually, they’d start dating. Donghyuck, at that time, had been single for almost a year. He thought he convinced you that college was finally catching up on him hence he’d put a stop to his “demanding” dating life. However, Donghyuck is your best friend, and you could see right through him. You knew he liked someone he wasn’t willing to share with you, and he was probably working up the courage to ask that person out, which, when you thought about it, was new. Donghyuck was cunning and ambitious and he knew what he wanted and how to get it. He was never one to shy away from the people he liked, so it was a little suspicious that it took him almost a year to start dating again. You did not figure out who he liked, and you knew he’d only started dating Yesol to get you to shut up about it.

You and him knew it wasn’t a serious relationship because Yesol was dating other guys while she’d dated him. Donghyuck told you it felt like the relationship was just for sex because of his oozing sex appeal; you’d thrown a cushion at him when he’d said that.

Meanwhile, you and Jaemin were almost at pointbreak.

You didn’t want to spend Valentine’s Day being uncertain of the relationship would go, so you broke up with him on the first day of February. Jaemin had gotten an internship in Japan a few months ago, and the company that hired him liked him so much that they wanted to keep him while he finishes his degree virtually. You wished you could say the same, that you loved him so much you also wanted to keep him.

It was finally catching up to you and him, the distance. So, it was better you’d break it off before you and him start failing subjects just to keep a relationship steady.

Two and a half years together wasn’t enough. You and Jaemin wanted to spend the rest of your college years, at least, together. But like he said the night you’d ended it: it wasn’t worth it if it was compromising your mental health and studies. You’d cried so much that night, and you wondered if Donghyuck pretended he couldn’t hear you sobbing from the other side of the apartment.

Come Valentine’s Day, Donghyuck asked you to dress up, throwing a paper bag at you.

The place he “luckily scored” a reservation from, on a busy, fully-booked Valentine’s night, was nice. It was romantic and you were flushed and giddy from all the wine and all of the Donghyuck.

“Why are you here with me and not with Yesol?” you’d asked after the waiter filled your glass.

Donghyuck smiled at you. “I broke up with her two weeks ago.” Around the same time you did with Jaemin. “I figured if my best friend would be miserable on Valentine’s day, I should be, too.”

You laughed. “Well, you don’t look too miserable for a newly single man.”

“I’m not,” he confessed. “I’m never miserable when I have you.”

You reached out one hand, palm facing Donghyuck. He intertwined his hand with yours. And it fit perfectly. Just like the dress he got you.

your name, June 2022 – present (or alternately, sometime in 2005 – forever.)

“Lee Naeun, Kim Haerin, Im Jieun, Lee Naeun again, then Park Yesol,” you enumerate. “You were a ladies’ man!”

Donghyuck whines, begging you to stop as you go through his things in his room, particularly the notes and letters from the girls he’d dated.

You and him are moving out. Graduation is just around the corner, and you and Donghyuck decided to move on to a better place. Your boyfriend got a job in one of the biggest companies in his industry, while you’re yet to find yours.

“Don’t forget Ginny Williams,” he teases, throwing you a love letter from the bunch.

“You did not date Ginny Williams, Donghyuck. It was an illusion,” you scoff. “Tell me one conversation you had with her. A real one.”

“I swear to God, she loved me,” he answers. “Stop playing around and help me in here.”

You stand from the carpeted floor and walk towards Donghyuck as he sorts out the things from his study desk. Donghyuck starts with the tower of books and folders, organizing them alphabetically as he carefully places them on the box labeled as books. The other box is labeled as essentials; hence you start throwing his headphones and speakers and its chargers in. While doing so, you get a hold of a small box that contains what you thought were miscellaneous items mixed in with trash, until you realize what’s inside.

There are a few polaroid pictures of you and him from high school, including a picture of you and him on your high school’s graduation day, some receipts from, now you recognize, the places you’d gone to. There’s a receipt from when you and him took the subway to visit a museum at the other side of the country back in 2018, another from Valentines day 2022, when you and him celebrated being newly single, the old ticket from your senior prom when he’d gone with you, and so many more that you could recognize just from its dates.

“Donghyuck,” you whisper as you look at the box of memories. Donghyuck turns, eyes wide when he recognizes the box you’re holding. “Where… where should I put these?”

Donghyuck loved many girls in his life. You can recall their names in the order of when he’d dated them. You had your favorites and the ones you didn’t like that much. Some of your friends wonder if you’ve ever been insecure knowing you weren’t the first kiss or the first person he had sex with and if you were okay with knowing all of that. You weren’t the first and you wish you’d be the last. The only thing you’re certain of, is that he had always loved you, and that alone erases all the other thoughts.

If you could say so, you’re thankful for all of the girls he loved before because they made him the one you’d fallen for. Every dead-end street led him straight to you.

He smiles. “Essentials.”

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