years after leaving home to chase stardom in america, you return to korea with a grammy in your hand and unfinished feelings in your chest. the last person you expect to run into is jeon jungkook, your childhood best friend and the one person you never quite stopped loving, so when past regrets, new desires, and the glare of fame collide, you'll have to decide if love is worth staying.
pairing: mechanic!jungkook x (fem) popstar!reader, side pairing: jungkook x oc
genre: angst, smut, fluff, friends to enemies to lovers, slow burn, slight love triangle
rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !
w/c: 850 (teaser)
warnings: none for teaser.
a/n: veeeeeery exciting news my babies !!!!!!! i've been working long and hard on this series and i'm super excited for you guys to read it because i think it's gonna be a BANGER if i do say so myself 😭😭😭 i've wanted to explore this genre for some time now so i really hope i do it justice lol please enjoy this little teaser and i'll be back soon with part 1 !! i love you all sm and thank you to my sweet angel ana for my gorgeous banner @voyter 🫶🏼
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"Two days, Aesun," your mother sighs for what feels like the hundredth time this week, her voice carrying that strange mix of pride and disbelief she's worn ever since your acceptance letter arrived. "I still can't believe it. New York. Juilliard!" She shakes her head, smiling to herself as she passes another plate to Mrs. Jeon. "My daughter."
Mrs. Jeon beams beside her. "You should be proud, Haewon. We all are." Then she glances at you, her eyes going soft as they always do whenever she looks at you for too long. "You've worked so hard for this, sweetheart."
Heat creeps into your cheeks, and you duck your head with a grin, pretending to be very focused on drying a soup spoon. "I just graduated and you're all getting mushy already."
Mrs. Jeon laughs, light and bright, while your mother waves you off for being so nonchalant about it.
Across from you, seated at the kitchen island with one elbow propped beside an empty glass of cola, Jungkook watches the whole exchange in silence.
He's been quiet all evening.
Not in a way anyone else would notice, probably. Jungkook has always been quieter than most people—never one to fill the room with noise unless he has something worth saying, but you know him well enough to feel the difference. Usually, when your families get together like this, he sits close enough to be part of whatever conversation you're having, even if he mostly lets you do the talking. He'll mumble a comment here and there, roll his eyes when you get dramatic, or kick your shin lightly under the table when you start exaggerating a story for effect.
Tonight, he's barely looked at you.
He's sitting there in a plain black t-shirt and grey sweatpants, fresh from changing out of the suit he wore to graduation earlier, his dark hair still a little messy from the quick shower he took before dinner. One of his long legs is stretched out beneath the island stool, his fingers tapping idly against the condensation on his glass. Every now and then, Mrs. Jeon tries to pull him into the conversation, and every time he just gives a small shrug or a short answer before retreating back into himself.
You notice it because you always notice him. That's how it has been since the sixth grade.
Back then, when your family first moved into the neighbourhood, you were loud in every possible way. Loud voice, loud laugh, loud opinions, loud dreams. You showed up on the Jeons' doorstep wearing a crooked ponytail and grass-stained knees because your mother dragged you over to "meet the neighbours properly," and before the adults even finished introductions, you'd already wandered into their backyard and found a quiet, wide-eyed boy crouched beside a flowerbed, trying to coax a ladybug onto his finger.
Jungkook blinked up at you with solemn, startled eyes.
You planted your hands on your hips and asked, "Do you wanna play?"
He stared at you for a second like he wasn't sure whether you were real, then nodded once.
And that had been that.
Your mothers became best friends almost as naturally as you and Jungkook did. Playdates turned into sleepovers, afternoons at the park turned into evenings spent doing homework side by side at the Jeons' dining table, and somewhere between scraped knees, shared snacks, and long summers spent racing bicycles up and down the street, his house became your second home.
You had always been the one in front, dragging him toward the next thing, the next game, the next adventure. And Jungkook, shy and soft-spoken and so painfully easy to fluster, had always followed a step behind you like he belonged there.
Like he belonged to you.
Even now, years later, there are pieces of your childhood tucked into this house. A faded scratch on the hallway wall from when the two of you tried to bring your scooters inside during a thunderstorm. A tiny burn mark on the patio table from the time you convinced him sparklers were safe to wave around if you were "being careful." A whole shelf in his bedroom probably still crowded with things you'd left behind and never taken back.
You've changed a lot since then, and so did Jungkook.
He shot up sometime in ninth grade, all awkward limbs and broad shoulders that he didn't quite know what to do with. His voice dropped. His eyes got darker somehow, sparklier. He stopped trailing behind you so much, though he still looked for you first in every room.
And in the eighth grade—though he never had the balls to tell you to your face—he started carrying something fragile and dangerous in his chest whenever it came to you.
An embarrassing, pesky crush.
The kind that made his ears burn whenever you leaned too close. The kind that had him lying awake at night replaying every time you laughed at one of his jokes. The kind he buried deep because the thought of ruining your precious friendship was worse than the ache of wanting more.
Satoru Gojo - hockey Star- loves three things - hockey, coke and women. Which is the reason his coach Sukuna wants to make sure he stays as far away from his niece - you - as possible. Raised by Sukuna after your parents passed, he is almost like a dad to you. Satoru can't help but become obsessed the moment he sees you spinning on the ice. But there's one big problem - an overbearing, grumpy one named Uncle Kuna. Is he right to protect you, or is there more to Satoru than what's on the surface?
❉pairings- hockey star! satoru x figure skater! reader
❉warnings - eventual smut, eventual angst, drug use, grumpy but loving Uncle Sukuna, shy/innocent reader, down bad Satoru - he's a bit of a hot mess at first. this chap - kissing, dry humping, mentions of sex, coke use, weed use, masturbation, obsessed Toru. wc-10.6k
this is a commissioned series for my bb @strychnynegirl ahh I am so excited! Art is a comm made for this story by @veroniicannot on IG - so no reposting, go follow her!<3
❉ headcanons ❉ playlist ❉ chapter two (soon)
chapter one
Satoru Gojo was the top hockey player there was – and with that came a ton of responsibility, when it wasn’t pressure from his parents for him to get into a pro team all of college, now it was making sure his teammates won. They were all experienced too, but Satoru was just made for the rink, he could glide on the ice like it was nothing, but he sure put in the time for it.
He was the captain of the pro team now, when their head coach was gone he was the one set to guide the other players, who all happened to be little stubborn shitheads. Satoru was leaning against the rink, watching his teammates run drills with his baby blue eyes that caught every movement, practiced and experienced, lashes as white as the ice below him taking it all in.
The sounds of blades scraping across the ice echo in his ears, mixing with the grunts of the players and the giggles of the girls who come practice figure skating, some of the boys ate it up. Satoru himself had a pretty large fanclub and even now blows them a little kiss, they all freak out and giggle, especially when Suguru executes a perfect slap shot into the top corner of the net.
“Shit, good job Sugu,” Suguru blushes when the girls start calling his name. Satoru always loves the attention but he’s a little more shy. “Kento, you’re going on offense now.”
Satoru has been on the ice since early morning as usual, yawning just a bit as he joins in, he’s pushing himself harder than anyone else as always – some nights he stays after everyone is gone and it’s all quiet, only his skates cutting through the ice making noise. Everyone saw how great he was, how natural things were to him, but it also came with thousands of hours of practice.
Day in, day out, Satoru was a perfectionist. Yet, he loved it – something freeing about focusing on the precision of his moves, wearing his body down until it’s exhausted and he can blissfully crash out for that two or three hours he gets. He loved the feeling of being utterly sore and spent, only to get up and push himself all over again – he was the best for a reason.
He glides across the ice to grab a drink, when he sees a girl he never has – not one from the ‘fanclub’ she’s completely different, quietly spinning in a pretty pirouette, He can’t stop looking at her, with those graceful movements that make it look effortless, blades carving delicate patterns on the of the ice as you glide along and make a series of jumps and spins.
Satoru can’t get his gaze off you – but then, he’s not the only one. It’s eerily quiet as the men eye the new girl, some of them commenting how pretty you are, some a little impressed with a spin you land like it’s nothing. Satoru had seen plenty of talented figure skaters before, but there was something about you that froze him in place, the cute little smile on your face when you landed a move.
The boys clap and you blush then, realizing you have an audience, a quiet little smile and wave, before going back to focusing. Satoru’s lost though, he can’t stop staring – yeah, you’re a pretty little thing, but he’s always got pretty girls in his bed. It’s not that, is it?
“She’s hot, right?” Comes one of his teammates, Satoru instantly gives him an irritated glance.
“She is pretty,” Suguru says then, smirking over at Satoru. “Oh shit, I know that look of yours.”
“What look? She’s… talented, mmkay?” They’re laughing just a bit, when Satoru sighs. “Fine, she is hot.”
“She’s my niece,” all of them turn around to see their hockey coach Sukuna skating up, crossing his arms and glaring at them now.
“Shit, your niece is hot-”
“Toji I’ll fuck your face up more,” Sukuna says, raising a brow and glaring at all of them. Sukuna used to be a hockey player himself, but now he coaches in his early thirties, he was pretty notorious for training the winning team. Everyone found him intimidating due to just how huge and angry he was, but Satoru simply raised a brow himself.
He knows he’s damn near better than Sukuna was. Sure, maybe he’s cocky, but… it was accurate.
“She’s your niece? Where’s she been?” Satoru asks curiously, you’re skating over, your eyes locked on Sukuna for a moment until you see his stance.
“Kuna –”
“Don’t call me that in front of them!?” They’re snickering, you pout just a bit, and are apparently so cute Sukuna sighs, ruffling your hair. “Don’t pull the puppy dog eyes on me, brat.”
“Be nice, hmm?” He sighs, Satoru has never seen Ryomen Sukuna soft whatsoever.
“Fine, they were saying how talented you were, right?” They all stand at attention nodding quickly, you look down shyly at all the attention, hugging your arms a bit, before smiling and looking at Satoru.
God you’re pretty.
The minute your eyes hit his, he can hardly handle whatever the fuck you’re doing to him, holding your hand out now. “You’re the captain, right?”
“Yeah that’s me,” he takes your hand with a cocky little smile, it swallows your tiny one as you tilt your head back a bit to look at him. “You are really talented out there.”
“Oh thank you so much,” a pretty blush dances across your cheeks now, your eyes looking back down. Fuck you’re cute. “You’re talented too, I’ve seen your videos all over.”
“Yeah?” Satoru grins now, skating a little closer. “You have?”
“That’s enough,” Sukuna cuts in, practically unclasping your hands now. “Let’s go talk for a minute, kid. I’ll be back to coach you little shits in a bit.”
“Sure, it was nice to meet you,” you say to Satoru, smiling a bit at him and then skating off, but you peer over your shoulder for a moment at him.
“Get your jaw off the floor, buddy.”
“Fuck off, let’s get to work…”
“Uncle Kuna, you were rude!” You’re saying, eyeing the handsome white haired player who gives you a little smile. “He seems sweet.”
“Tch, you don’t know that boy, any of those boys,” Sukuna hands you a drink and you take it thankfully. “It’s my job to look out for you, just trust me.”
“All right…” But how can you focus, when eyes that blue peer at you across the rink?
Gojo watches as you begrudgingly glide across the rink, but he just can't get that dopey grin off his face, Suguru shakes him out of it, Sukuna skates up and fucking glares at him. Yet he can’t stop looking, how you glide along the ice, spinning in pretty little circles, waving a little when you think Sukuna can’t see, just to have him standing right in front of Satoru again.
“Get to running those, now.”
“Calm down Kuna,” Satoru smacks his shoulder, grinning as Sukuna turns bright red.
“Stay away from her.”
“Why tell me that?” He raises a brow at Sukuna now. “Go tell Toji.”
“I just know your type, fuckin’ act all sweet and then not be serious, you won’t hurt her if I have anything to do with it.” Satoru sighs, grabbing his hockey stick and skating back over to his group.
If anything is known – it’s that Satoru Gojo was an absolute slut, he just loved to fuck, loved women, he loved getting his dick sucked. Why wouldn’t he enjoy all the perks of being a famous hockey player? Which absolutely included partying, snorting coke up his nostrils, having a good blunt and letting girls make out over his tip.
That didn’t mean Satoru was somehow against the idea of love or dating – he just was enjoying himself, Sukuna’s right in that he would corrupt a cute, innocent little thing like yourself. Fuck corrupting you would be so pretty though, imagining how cute you’d look learning how to take his cock – the thoughts have him hard in the middle of the fucking ice rink.
Satoru wishes anything Sukuna threatened ever sunk in – it didn’t.
*****
It’s been a week since he first saw you.
How can Satoru not come in early to watch you practice every morning, just acting like he needs more time himself, when he’s literally in peak performance. How can Satoru not just peer at you before he gets on the ice, when no one else is there, watching you so cute as you focus, as you fall and get yourself back up.
You’re goddamn adorable, he can’t stop the smile on his face anytime he catches sight of you, but he doesn’t really say anything, just waves as he practices, and the two of you are in a comfortable silence on either side of the giant ice rink. Satoru relishes every time you come by him, when you’ll skate by and ask him a question, tell him you admire his form.
Admire his form.
Satoru admires yours too, those outfits leave little to the imagination, and you’re achingly pretty, the way he can imagine wrapping his hands right around your waist… even when you practice with someone he gets furious. He hates seeing his pretty figure skater have another man spot or spin with her.
His figure skater? Has he really lost it?
He loves when you answer his questions, your shy but reserved conversation – some of the girls he hears call you stuck up, but it’s clear you’re not – even if you don’t really make friends. It’s more you’re achingly shy, and he knows it takes a lot in those moments you talk to him, when you hardly talk to anyone else.
Satoru can't help but picture you every night after you give him a little wave goodbye, when you’re in your cute little tracksuit and he gets just a hint of your tummy in his sight, a little dip of cleavage. God just your collarbones and how your hair falls when it’s out of that tight bun fuck him up – so much so fuck he strokes it to you like it's his own form of worship.
Every time he thinks he can have just a few moment with you, fucking Sukuna is there. Stomping around all angry, scowling right at Satoru, he makes sure to leave no space for Satoru to even find out more than your name and where you’re from. He’s gathered that you love to skate – of course – and that you like to read, by the books you bring in.
Old books, too, ones he googles when he gets home so he can have a hope to talk to you. Wuthering Heights is the one you always bring, so of course he studies all he can about it, bringing up oh so casually what he thinks of Heathcliff. You brightened up so pretty this morning, and he thinks that was the first time he heard your laugh, a soft little cute one.
Your nose scrunched up, all fucking adorable, and your eyes lit up as you softly agreed with him about Catherine, Satoru’s acting like he read a goddamn book from the eighteen hundreds to impress a girl. He's not sure when he got so pathetic, nor when the sight of a cute nose scrunching up started making him leak pre - but oh, it did.
He catches a glimpse of you as you’re leaving today, almost bumping right into him, your hands on his chest, his on your waist, thumbs pressing into the nip of it, the two of you pausing, eyes meeting. You get lost in his, your heart hammering in your chest, the feeling of his fingers on your skin almost intimate.
You’ve not had anyone even touch you – thanks to Sukuna always being absolutely insane about protecting you – if it wasn’t him, it was your brother Yuuji. Sukuna had practically raised you both together. He’s been off at school for a bit but he was also extremely protective of you, even though he was actually your little brother by a year.
“Hey,” he says softly, your lips part as you look at where your hand rests, feeling the beat of his heart steady underneath it. “You all right?”
“Um, y-yeah,” you can hardly talk, you’re so damn shy in general but especially around Satoru Gojo and his pretty blue eyes just looking right at you. “I’m all right, sorry…”
“Don’t apologize sweets,” you blush at the little name, he eases his hand off and you realize yours is still on him, yanking it back, he laughs just a little at that. “Headed home?”
“I am, um… it was…” Shit, you can’t talk at all, it was a little different with everyone on the rink, but just Satoru made it more difficult.
You hate being awkward.
That’s the thing about figure skating – you can be elegant, delicate and lovely, but in real life you stammered, you couldn’t talk half the time, it was all just too much, too overwhelming. Then you overthought every single word you said, replaying it over in your head, sometimes the dumbest shit that would come out of your mouth when you’re nervous would keep you up all night.
Even now he’s looking curiously and you still can’t talk. All you can think of is that cologne he’s wearing, the scent of him, how he feels so warm against you. How tall he is especially without the boost of your skates, the way he looks at you. Uncle Sukuna said all these things about him, partying and this and that, but it doesn’t deter you like it should.
He just… seems like he has a good soul.
You think you’re a good judge of that?
“I’m just standing here oh god,” he chuckles again, brushing a little lock of your hair back delicately, your heart hammers faster at the brush against your skin, feather light. “I’m sorry I’m not that um… I don’t talk alot. I know you’re trying to be friendly this week, I hope you don’t think I’m rude?”
“Not at all.” You exhale in relief. “I talk too fucking much,” you giggle then, so precious Satoru can’t stand it, hugging your body just a bit.
“No, you talk just enough, it’s nice to… I like talking to you,” you would have thought you said you wanted to kiss him, how flustered you get, trembling.
“Cold?”
“We are in an ice rink.”
“Right, that, I’m always warm,” he swipes his brow, a hint of his abdomen showing, that little v cut that almost ruins your senses. “You look flushed.”
“Oh I guess I am,” you’re shivering from being near him, trying to play it off then. “You are so great out there, especially helping Uncle Kuna.”
“I still can’t believe he’s got a little nickname,” you smile, looking down just a bit, making Satoru ache to tilt your chin up, to have a look into your pretty eyes, he almost fucking does it too, barely keeping his composure.
Since when is he nervous like this?
“There’s a party tomorrow, you should come.”
“Oh, no, I don’t do crowds and parties.”
“You… compete in front of hundreds of people?”
“Yeah, but I’m kind of alone when I do?”
“That makes sense,” he murmurs, curious about you more and more, as you put a hand tentatively to his shoulder. “Maybe another time?”
“If Uncle Kuna would ever let me,” he rolls his eyes.
“Uncle Kuna goes to those parties,” you gasp, Satoru grins. “He does it to ‘watch us’ like he’s so much older. He’s only in his thirties.”
“I know it’s hard to remember, he acts so grown up doesn’t he?”
“Nah, I’ve seen him playing beer pong, he screams grown frat boy,” you’re laughing again.
“He was one!”
“Fuckin’ called that shit,” Satoru takes your hand then and presses a little kiss to the back of your knuckles.
He’s never done that but it feels like the right move, you’re so damn pretty and sweet like some girl at a ball in the eighteen hundreds, none of that really makes sense but it does in his own mind. Plus watching you blush and your eye lashes flutter is probably the cutest thing he’s seen.
“Uncle Kuna didn’t say you were a gentleman.”
“I’m so not,” he lets your hand go, smirking and slipping his hands in his pockets then. “I am probably not that bad as he says though. He always has it out for me.”
“He seems really proud of you too though! Don’t tell him I said it,” Satoru pauses, cheeks reddening a bit.
“Are you in town for a while?”
“I’m staying with him and my brother for a bit. Actually, I was living in the dorms during college, but I want to try to get more practice, more… professional?”
“You look like a pro,” you smile and giggle all fucking cute. “You do.”
“Thank you Satoru,” you both walk towards the front doors now, the air is even chillier with the winter breeze, both of you slinging on your jackets. Satoru looks almost ethereal with the way the moonlight hits his face. “Good night.”
“See you uh, tomorrow?” You smile and wave, and Satoru can’t take that damn dopey grin off his face.
*****
Satoru's snorting a line up his nose as the music hums and the room is filled with everyone dancing that night. He's got a girl on either side of him giggling, both of their hands just touching on him, they’re pretty and he enjoys them usually, but for whatever reason he feels…
Off.
“Gimme a line, shit,” Toji’s big ass sits next to him and Satoru rolls his blue eyes, snatching one of the girls right onto his lap. “Wanna snort one off her.”
“My premium coke? You owe me,” Satoru watches as Toji lines that snow up on the girl, the other one leaning close with her lips against Satoru’s ear.
“Mmm, can you do one off me?”
“I can,” he’s chuckling and sprinkling powder right on her, leaned over with his nose brushing her skin, hand on her waist.
That’s what you walk into – so nervous to go to a party, but your friends on the team convinced you how fun it would be, just to catch sight of Satoru Gojo’s tongue lapping up a pretty skater’s neck. You know her somewhat, she’s pretty and sweet, giggling so loudly you can hear her even over the music rushing in the large house.
Suguru’s house apparently.
“Hey there,” he is the one who greets you, standing in front of the view you have of Satoru and those girls, the feeling so odd.
You don’t even know Satoru, how could you care if he was with someone?
“Hi, Suguru, right?” He smiles and takes your hand, a little kiss on the back of it making you flush. “I don’t think we formally met.”
“We haven’t yet, I’m glad you came,” he gestures around. “Please help yourself to anything at all, would you like a drink?”
“Yes please,” he nudges his head and you follow him around, Satoru’s gaze catching yours as he’s laughing, snorting another line off her, he falters just a bit, his lips parting. You just sort of give a small smile and avert your gaze – something about seeing him like that feels a little too intimate to witness.
You didn’t know he had a girlfriend or…
Two girlfriends?
“Here, something sweet,” Suguru pours you a little glass of wine, much different than the beer in everyone’s hands or the liquor lined up.
“How’d you know I’m not a drinker?” You ask, he just shrugs a shoulder, corking the bottle.
“A guess is all, I know these parties get a little crazy, just tell me if anyone bothers you, yeah? I’ll kick them out.”
“Thank you,” you place a hand on his shoulder, before clearing your throat and smiling, noticing Satoru walking your way, the girl tugging at his light blue jersey. “Is that his girlfriend?”
“Girlfriend? Oh, no he doesn’t…”
Satoru’s right in front of you, hands in his pockets, smiling in that way only he can, you see the smallest hint of residue on his plump lips, which he laps off with a flick of his tongue. “You came! I didn’t uh… think you would?”
“I did come,” you look down a bit nervously, clearing your throat and smiling now, sipping on the wine. “You look like you’re having fun.”
“Eh I guess,” he rubs the back of his neck, shifting a bit and looking at Suguru. “Got her the good stuff, huh?”
“Mhm, I’ll let you two talk,” he smiles at you as he walks away, Satoru is close to you – too close, you can inhale that scent in your nostrils, something just him.
You can’t be jealous of someone you don’t know.
You plaster on a pretty smile now, sipping the sweet drink. “You don’t have to come entertain me.”
“I invited you and it’s not… I don’t have to…” Fuck, why does he get tongue tied like this? “I uh… I really wanted to see you.”
“You did?” His big grin is your answer, leaning on the counter and ignoring the girls who try to call him over. “I think you’re kind of popular.”
“Yeah well they’re fine,” he takes your drink and sips it, putting his lips right where you had, his eyes darkening as they study you over the rim. “Mmm, yummy.”
Fuck.
Gojo’s licking his lips and doing insane things to your tummy, fluttering like there’s a million butterflies, he steps closer to you, brushing your hair back. “You really came.”
“I did,” you laugh softly when the music shifts.
“Wanna dance?”
“Oh um,” you flush and sip your wine, clearing your throat just a bit. “Are you sure you wanna dance with me?”
“That’s why I asked,” he sets his cup down, taking your glass and putting it in the fridge, you blink curiously. “Safer in there, a lot of people here tonight.”
You blink a bit curiously, tilting your head. “Safer?”
“From…” He trails off, taking your hand. “Guys can drug drinks, no one on my team would but other players? There’s some really horrible men, even if I haven’t personally seen it happen – I've heard shit.”
“You’re keeping my drink safe,” you melt as he shrugs as if that’s just something normal – so caring you ache.
Sukuna and Yuuji care for you but they’re family – Satoru is still a stranger.
“No big deal sweetheart.”
“It’s really sweet of you,” he gets a little flustered, tugging you into the enormous living room, with vaulted ceilings and fancy, modern chandeliers hanging. You look up in wonder at them, so pretty then, they’re glowing right along your face, and for a moment his breath is smacked out of his lungs.
Satoru could just stare at you all day.
“It’s so pretty,” you sigh now – blinking just a bit as your gaze is captured.
To be engrossed in a chandelier when everyone around him was just snorting coke, drinking, smoking…
“It’s very pretty,” he agrees, looking right at you. You catch sight of it and look back down nervously, biting your lip. “Hey, look at me.”
You raise your eyes, your heart hammering in your chest. “I suck at eye contact.”
“I’ll help you,” he turns you around in a little circle, tugging you against his hard body, making you melt. “It’ll help with skating when you’re competing, being able to look at the crowd.”
“That’s true, oh sorry!” You stumble a bit so he just picks you up, you gasp at that, you’ve had partners pick you up countless times but not like this, just spinning you and holding you up with your feet dangling.
“A figure skater who can’t dance? That’s insane baby,” you laugh as he sets you down on your feet, feeling the eyes of those girls now. “What is it?”
“I don’t think they like me,” you murmur, Satoru looks back at them and frowns just a bit. “They’re scowling.”
“Nah, they just…” He doesn’t even know what to say, he’s forgotten their names again. “Just curious about you.”
“You’re so different from what Sukuna says,” he snorts now, rolling his eyes and turning you, tugging your back against him. “He says you’re a menace.”
“Well I am,” you snort a bit, and he chuckles, feeling the curve of your ass pressing on his thighs. “You don’t think I’m a menace?”
“You just seem thoughtful and kind,” he pauses now, those words aren’t typically what people say.
Even though Satoru was kind, they typically just saw the confidence, the arrogance, the ego hiding so much. He pauses a bit and then grips your hips, moving them, his lips brushing against your ear as he bends down. “Move those hips like you do on the ice.”
You’re so nervous – people are looking at you two, if Sukuna found out he’d probably lock you up in your room, but you’re not going to tell Satoru no, you want to listen to him. His soft little commands are overwhelming, hips rocking back against him and then around with his guidance, your head falling back against his chest as you move with him.
“There you go,” his words are like honey, sweeter than the wine on your tongue, just those few sips already rushing through your body, heated up by him. “Turn and show me what ya got.”
You turn and look at him in those pretty blue eyes, earning his pleased grin, his lashes lowered as he leans down, tugging you against him again. “Everyone’s looking at us.”
“Mhm,” you start moving with him, finding his own rhythm, every little brush of his fingers igniting something inside you. “Feel the music, like you do in a routine.”
You close your eyes and feel it like he says, the music thrumming, the tingles that shoot out from the way his hands grip your hips, you’re rolling your hips without his help soon enough, body moving right with him. As if he’s your partner lifting you and guiding you during your moves, the way he spins you makes you dizzy, having you face him once more.
Your eyes flutter open and this pretty smile hits your face, making Satoru grin right with you, laughing softly just a bit, the girls are still murmuring about you, but at the moment you really can’t care. You feel so pretty with how Satoru just looks at you, though you wonder…
How much of this is just him?
Just charming Satoru Gojo who does this with everyone? Were others used to or immune to it? You find it nearly impossible to be.
“You’re doing it on your own, see? Look at you moving like that,” the way he’s talking hits something inside you, making your core burn up, your thighs clench together, every word shooting right between them. “Doing s’good.”
He’s muffling his words, spinning you again, lips now pressed against your cheek as he leans down, brushing against your skin. “You think so, Gojo?”
“Call me Satoru,” he corrects, his hand splaying your tummy, picturing how he’ll be able to see himself inside it, feeling fucking filthy. “Of course I think so.”
“I um… really…” The song comes to a halt and Toji steps up on the table, you swear it’ll break he’s so damn big, shouting at everyone.
“All right you drunk fucks,” everyone laughs at him, Satoru simply rolls his eyes, hands falling off your waist ever so slightly. “Time for us all to chug.”
“Chug?” You ask softly, Satoru sighs, fucking Toji ruining his moment with you for him to chug beer – Satoru hates beer.
“Yeah, I’ll be right back though okay?” You nod and he rushes over, as if he’s dying to get it over with, when the two girls who had glared daggers at you are on either side of him. He seems a little tense, but he doesn’t move, he just takes the can Suguru hands him, putting it to his lips.
You just met Satoru Gojo. You can’t go having all these feelings for a man who is a stranger, especially the gnawing jealousy as the girls all half naked are bouncing around, making you question your attire. Were you too prim and proper? Was Satoru into a more… bold woman?
Why do you care so damn much already?
Satoru, of course was in his element, he finishes his beer with a speed faster than everyone, slamming the can down before anyone else could – even Toji. “Hah, won like always.”
“Swear you take dick down your throat,” Toji grumbles, Satoru snorts in laughter, blowing him a kiss.
“You wish, baby boy.”
“Ugh,” everyone is laughing and cheering, you’re just watching ever curiously, smiling when his eyes find yours in the crowd, all twinkling and so pretty you forget the girls next to him.
The girl in the crop top on the left fists her hands in his jersey, pulling him down for a messy kiss.
You saw him kissing that girl earlier and… it was fine, you guess, but something about this one after he danced with you…
Fuck you think too much into things.
He was having fun, you’re planning some romantic love – you’ve always had your head in the clouds, you suppose now is no different, your heart just fucking hurts though. He pushes her off him and clears his throat as you rush over to the kitchen, dying to drink that wine suddenly.
What was wrong with you?
“Hey… easy,” Satoru’s annoyed as shit, but how can he explain to a girl he just had in his lap grinding on him that you’re here, and he only wants to talk to you, to look at you.
It’s insane, whatever it is you do to his mind, he feels bad for a moment when she pouts. “But Satoru, I was hoping you’d come home with us.”
“Both of us,” the other girl bounces over right next to her, and normally Satoru would be all about fucking two pretty women, seeing them fuck.
What was wrong with him?
His eyes go to find yours and he sees you over there talking to Suguru, who brushes a lock of your hair back, it’s nothing lewd or forward – it’s sweet if anything, but it stabs him right in the fucking chest. Your eyes meet his and lower when these girls kiss on him, something he’s never felt embarrassed or ashamed about. It’s not like Satoru has ever even dated a girl.
All he does is party, fuck, play hockey, repeat. Countless girls on him, underneath him, sucking him down, fighting over who could swallow his cum first, never has he had a moment to question it. Anything to fill those lonely times, those thoughts when he’s all alone in his home, and he feels that loneliness, that exhaustion.
Never has he felt so goddamn mad his friend is laughing with a girl, the friend he’s fucked girls with, he wants to smack his goddamn hand.
“I gotta go, not tonight,” he mumbles, rushing toward the kitchen, hands in his pockets and smiling at Suguru and you, as if everything is fine. “Sorry about that, they’re fucking clingy.”
“They like you alot,” you murmur, Satoru just blinks a bit, lips parted. “You don’t have to hang out because you invited me, have fun.”
“What!? No, not at all,” his phone starts buzzing like crazy, he puts it on silent, reading all the messages from girls asking him to come over.
“Satoru’s the most popular,” Suguru says, not in a mean way, it’s sweet if anything. “Me not so much.”
“What? Everyone was gushing about both of you,” Suguru blushes and you giggle, you’re not used to someone blushing as bright as you do.
“I am not as good with attention.”
“I love attention,” Satoru grins and you giggle just a bit, before noticing the lipstick stuck to his mouth – an obnoxious glitter. “Have something on my face?”
“Yeah,” you lean forward and swipe the glitter off his lips, he sucks in a breath at the act, before he sees all the glitter on your finger. “Your girlfriends are sparkly.”
“Not girlfriends,” he grabs another drink and downs it, cursing internally, feeling like he’s already fucked it up somehow, even if you’re smiling and just sipping your drink. Suguru is enamored with you, he doesn't even look Satoru's way.
Maybe when Suguru asked if he thought you were pretty he should have admitted it and not deflected.
“Well I'm glad if I didn't ruin your fun or anything,” he curses internally. He invited you here but he didn't take into account who you are.
You're different from anyone here and he'd never want to change that, but how did he think you'd fit into such a crowd? Of course you'd talk to a much calmer person like Suguru amidst the chaos.
Yet he wanted you here.
“Not at all, I'm always partying. I promise I'm not missing out,” he clears his throat now, when Choso walks over to them. He's related to Sukuna so of course he knows you, immediately giving you a hug.
“Hey! Oh god, Sukuna is gonna kill you,” you sigh and nod, covering your face.
“I know, don't tell him!” He holds up two fingers.
“Secret is safe from me, plus it'll do you some good to get out,” he looks at Satoru and Suguru now. “I'm glad you're with them and not some randoms though, in that case I'd have to snatch you out of here.”
“If you're Sukuna's nephew…” Suguru – stoned already – tries to put two and two together as he looks between you both. “And you're his niece… How many does Sukuna have?”
“A lot,” Choso admits, lips twitching up with amusement. “Our family is all over the place,” he sighs now. “You know Yuuji is joining the team soon?”
“Yes he's so excited! Choso you should come over for dinner sometime?”
“I can soon,” he tugs out a blunt then, smirking. “Do you partake or is this too crazy?”
“I haven't before,” you blush a bit. “Will it mess me up?”
“Nah it's more calming, but I'll leave it up to you,” someone starts shouting for him, Choso was absolutely the plug of the hockey team. “Here, give it to them or smoke it, no pressure. Just be careful when you get home. Sukuna used to cuss me out when he caught me.”
You smile at him and nod, taking the blunt curiously, looking at the two men. “Um have you all…”
They chuckle. “Maybe every night before bed?” Suguru says, you giggle at that, handing it to him.
“I also partake, but it can make you a little dizzy,” Satoru says softly, looking over at Suguru. “We should do this in private, she's already got a couple fan girls and I don't want any drama for her.”
“Fangirls?” You ask, Suguru tops off your wine then gestures for you to follow them both.
“As in – they're jealous of you,” Suguru answers, leading you up the stairs into his room. “Try not to let that all get to you too much.”
“I do feel they think I'm stuck up,” you mumble, heart racing when Satoru's hand rests on the small of your back for a moment, helping you avoid a very drunk partygoer stumbling all around. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” his touch feels far too good – but a part of you tries to remember the kisses he got, the glitter on his skin. He is probably someone who doesn't date, and your heart couldn't take anything casual. Even if it's difficult not to react to any touch or look.
“It'll be quieter in here,” Suguru looks at you then. “Are you comfortable coming in my room?”
“Yes,” you murmur. You've heard only good things about Suguru – a gentleman by even Sukuna's words, and you already feel comfy with Satoru.
Sukuna would kill you if he knew you were gonna smoke a blunt at a party in their room. Something about that mixes you with panic and a little thrill – you're always such a good girl, a little fun is exciting as it is scary.
“Have a seat,” Suguru takes the chair, you and Satoru sit at the edge of his bed – your thighs brushing against each other as Suguru takes the blunt and lights it up, inhaling and tilting his head back a bit. “What do you think – first party and all?”
“I don’t know if it’s really my scene,” you admit softly, Satoru feels just a little bit of guilt for inviting you, but you’re quickly smiling at him. “I’m glad I came, though.”
“Yeah?” He exhales almost in relief when you nod, smiling a bit, your legs crossing, that cute little skirt slipping up your thighs.
“Good, though I’d suggest being very careful,” Suguru says, leaning forward and handing you the blunt. “I don’t want Sukuna to lose his shit, but also parties other than ours? Get really rowdy, especially Naoya’s.”
“Oh, is that the blonde guy? He’s…”
“A dick?” Satoru finishes, you blush now. “It’s okay, we all hate him too, just a hell of a player.”
“He was kind of lewd with his… he hit on me and…”
“What?” Satoru glares, Suguru clears his throat, standing and holding your hand in his, smiling.
“Want me to show you how?” You nod, realizing that you’re still holding the burning blunt in your fingers. “Put it to your lips and suck, just enough to fill your mouth – not so much that you feel sick, all right?”
“Yes,” with his help you wrap your lips around the blunt, inhaling just a bit, the smoke filling you too thick, you immediately cough. “Oh!”
“You all right?” Suguru and Satoru both touch your back carefully, you nod and pass it to Satoru, he takes a big drag of it, filling his lungs – even that is attractive honestly, your heart is racing just being so close to him.
“When did Naoya hit on you?” Satoru asks, passing the blunt back over to Suguru, blue eyes focusing on you.
“The other day, ‘nice ass new girl’ and he asked me to come over, got all offended because I didn’t respond… I was just too nervous and it made me…”
“Surprised Sukuna hasn’t beat him,” Suguru says, handing it to you with a frown.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“I’ll say something,” Satoru’s words make you inhale just a little too much of the blunt this time.
You’re coughing all delicate, even that’s cute, Satoru notices, Suguru curses then when his phone starts going off. “What is it, Sugu?”
“The same shit as always – speaking of the little shit, Naoya and Toji are fighting.”
“Again?”
“Yep, I gotta go break the shit up before they destroy my place.”
“Fuck,” Satoru tenses just a bit, seeing you still coughing a little. “Need me to help?”
“Nah it’s fine,” Suguru leans down a bit. “Are you all right here, love?”
“Yes,” you clear your throat and smile. “I don’t think I can handle smoking very well.”
“You took a hit like a champ,” he ruffles your hair affectionately, before doing the same to Satoru, making him glare. “I’ll see you two downstairs, but wait a bit – that shit is gonna get rowdy. Just let me know if you need anything, okay? Water, food, a ride – don’t be shy to ask me or Satoru.”
“Oh,” you blush at how thoughtful the two men are. “Thank you, Suguru.”
“Good luck with ‘em,” Satoru grumbles, Suguru walks out and shuts the door behind him quickly, you faintly hear just a bit of the rowdiness in the huge home Suguru has, muffled once more by the door.
You’re alone with Satoru Gojo.
“Are you all done, sweetheart?” He asks, holding the blunt to his lips and inhaling the thick plume of smoke, blowing it upward after holding it in.
“I think I suck at taking hits,” he smiles and shakes his head, a hand brushing back a little tendril of hair. “It’s very new to me.”
“You don’t suck at all, here you can… I can breathe the smoke in your mouth, it’s less that way? But only if you’re okay with it,” you blush furiously, and he notices.
“Wouldn’t that be a kiss?”
“It would be a kiss,” he whispers, leaning closer now, fingertips brushing against your cheek.
“I don’t want to kiss that glitter,” you glare a little and he laughs, shaking his head and slipping chapstick out of his pocket, swiping it on. “Hmm, I don’t know, I think I see a little bit.”
“I swear I don’t want their glitter on me,” he pauses, lips parted just a bit, taking your hand in his. “Wipe it all off real good, the slutty glitter.”
You giggle, the smoke and drinks rushing through your system, coming close and swiping the remaining sparkles off his lips, until you’re achingly close, your thigh almost over his on the bed. His hand brushes against it, swallowing nervously as you lean close to him, and the blunt is still in his hands, burning out slowly.
Should you tell him you’ve never kissed? What would he think, you in your early twenties and not a single one? A lot of it was Sukuna, but a lot of it was your shyness, the way you didn’t open up to people easily. Yet thinking of kissing those soft lips has butterflies rushing through your tummy, has you so dizzy as he looks into your eyes the way only Satoru Gojo can.
But could you remember that he’s not serious like that? Could you just kiss him to do it, when you’re a little hopeless romantic?
“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want,” he murmurs then, hand slipping higher, thumb brushing little circles on your thigh, making you soaking wet – to the point it’s embarrassing. His gaze flickers down your body for a brief moment, sighing just a bit. “I didn’t invite you here to get anything like this from you, I get that you’re…”
“What, Satoru?”
He swallows again, leaning closer. “Innocent, sweet, off limits… I want you to have some fun but I don’t want you to think that’s what I asked you here for.”
“Why did you ask me?” You ask then, he sighs, nose almost brushing against yours.
“Call me very curious about you, who you are, what makes you tick… I am achingly curious about you, pretty little figure skater,” you blush even more, and he chuckles a bit. “Your cheeks are burning hot.”
“You think I’m…”
“Pretty? Yeah,” his lips press your cheek, feeling the warmth against them, and you ease even more onto his thigh, until he can almost feel your heat. “Who doesn’t think you’re pretty?”
“I um… wanna try the…”
“Shotgun?”
“It sounds like trouble,” he laughs softly, bringing the blunt to his lips and looking at you under those white lashes.
“I’ll inhale it and blow into your mouth, you keep it in as long as you can, but don’t make yourself dizzy,” you nod and he tugs you firmly on his lap now, your hands on his shoulders, breath caught at the proximity.
You’re on Satoru Gojo’s lap – you, top figure skater, achingly close against the top Hockey star.
But right now, you’re just a boy and a girl, and Satoru for all his experience looks very boyish right now, blushing himself as he inhales the smoke, and his hand entangles in your hair. You lean down, your lips against his for the first time, feeling the smoke blow into your mouth in a cloud, his hand snaking around to the small of your back as he blows.
Your first kiss is with Satoru Gojo.
He pulls back and you blow the smoke out, but his eyes are different – lidded and sultry, his lips parted just so, glossy from your own. He kisses you once more, tugging you even further on him, and your eyes flutter shut, rocking into the sensation of him, getting high off his kisses, when his tongue swipes in, you pause – pulling back and gasping.
“Too far?” He murmurs, setting the blunt on the ash tray near the bed, leaning just a bit as you cling to him, you fall just a bit further as he loses his balance, now on his back with you on him.
“I’m so sorry…” You whisper, he leans up on his elbows, hands on your thighs, taking them over. “I um… it wasn’t too far.”
“No, you sure?” He asks softly, you’re pushed to the center of the bed looking down at him, feeling just how hard he is.
You’ve seen things, read things, but you don’t know what’s real and what is for fiction or for show, suddenly so nervous, but you lean forward and kiss him again, intoxicated from his lips. The cherry chapstick seeps onto your tastebuds, when he flicks his tongue against yours again, moaning.
“I haven’t kissed,” you whisper, shutting your eyes in embarrassment, Satoru’s quiet. “I know, how haven’t I? It’s so… em-”
“It’s cute,” he cuts you off and answers softly, cupping your face with one hand as he sits up. “Hey, look at me.”
You do just that, and suddenly Satoru feels something he can’t place, some sort of protective feeling towards you – just as much as he wants to corrupt you, have you arch for him, ride his face. Another part wants to make sure you’re sweet like this forever, to not ruin that part of you, the little innocent one that’s looking at him so trusting then.
Was Satoru any good for you? Sukuna was right about one thing, he wasn’t serious about anything but hockey, but how can he not want to show you how to kiss? How can he not want to claim your lips first and drink your sighs, feel the gentle weight of you on his hips, your thighs pressing tightly – all those years of training he can feel underneath his fingertips.
“You’re precious,” he muses out loud, you giggle and shake your head. “Why’d you pick me, for the first kiss? Isn’t that a big deal to you?”
“Yeah it is,” your words are soft and breathy, he can feel your heat rushing against his cock, the one aching to slam inside you – but he can hold himself back, he has to hold it all down. “It feels right to kiss you, is that really odd to say? Am I sounding high already?”
He laughs softly, shaking his head and letting his lips brush against the tip of your nose. “No sweetheart, I think if you feel something you should be able to say it to me. Do you want me to show you how to kiss?”
“Could you?” You ask carefully, biting on your lip and drawing his attention to it. “I am afraid I won’t be very good at it like…”
“Yeah no need to compare yourself,” he already knows you’re beyond those girls – he should feel bad that he suddenly doesn’t care about the fun he had with them, maybe he will later.
Right now he just wants to kiss every inch of your cute little body – but for this very moment, he leaves it to your lips, pressing again and sighing, precum leaking and making his cock stick to his boxers. You exhale and lean into the kiss, rocking your hips and then pausing.
“I don’t know why they’re doing that,” he laughs softly, drunk off just the way you’re looking up at him.
“Dancing like earlier,” he whispers, hands coming to rest on them, his thumbs pressing against your pelvis and feeling you rock once more. “Does it feel good?”
“Too good,” you pause your hips with a shaky breath. Satoru looking at you like this, kissing you like this? How badly could it hurt you, if you fall the way you think you already are? “Um how do I… your tongue… I’ve only seen people do it.”
“Ah, you just move it along till we find a rhythm,” he kisses you again, tongue slipping in your mouth, tilting his head as his snowy lashes flutter shut, tickling your cheeks, they’re so long. “Try to move it.”
“Okay,” you tentatively move your tongue against his, matching the movements – his tongue is long compared to your little pink one, taking your mouth over like he’s drinking you. “Mmm…”
It's awkward at first when you try, going too fast, too slow, like a routing where you’re just learning the movements, but Satoru is patient, he doesn’t push it, pulling back and laughing softly, pressing kisses on the corners of your lips. He guides you, his tongue stroking yours in a slow, deliberate rhythm that takes your breath.
You’re mad that anyone ever kissed Satoru – and you know that’s toxic, you know it’s insanity when you both aren’t together, but you feel it anyway, as your hips start moving again, grinding against his cock which just keeps thickening. You can feel every inch of him through the thin fabric of your panties, already soaked, dripping onto his dark blue jeans.
Satoru groans into your mouth, his hands tightening on your hips bruisingly, pulling back to gasp for a breath, his pupils blown out. "Fuck…”
“Good? Bad?” He laughs and shakes his head.
“Little too good,” he winces when you move again, knowing he’s going to be aching when you leave, gonna have to jerk his cock to you.
Not like he hasn’t already.
Several times.
“You’re a natural at it,” he murmurs, kissing your chin, down your jaw, your lashes flutter shut when his lips touch the nape of your neck, making you cry out – this sexy sound that fucking ruins him. “You sound like that from a kiss on the neck?”
“Mnh,” you whine out again, his lips burning hot on your skin, like he’s kissing little memories all over them, your hands entangle in his white locks, soft and fluffy in your touch, his hand slipping up to grip a breast. “Ah!”
“You have no idea what you're doing to me sweetheart,” he’s damn near babbling, so lost in your natural sensuality, you don’t even realize the chokehold you have him in with every breath. The weight of your pretty tit feels perfect in his palm, thumb brushing a circle around your nipple as he teeth nip your ear. “Wonder how you sound if I kiss you here, and here, and here….”
Satoru’s lips trail down, your bare shoulder, his other hand slides up your back, underneath that top, his long, calloused fingers tracing patterns on your skin. You arch into his touch, your nipple so sensitive, you’re getting dizzy from him, head falling to the side for more of his hungry kisses, the flicks of his tongue, the scraping of his teeth.
“Satoru…”
“God,” he murmurs your name before he finds your lips, searing a kiss right on your mouth once more, until the both of you can’t breathe. “Do you want me to make you cum?”
“M-make me…”
“You don’t have to touch me,” he whispers, hands slipping back down to your thighs, eyeing the slick that’s dripping down them. “You’re soaked, baby.”
Baby.
Fuck.
You’re so dizzy now, it can’t just be Satoru – not when the room is starting to whir, and you gasp out, pausing with your nails pressing into his shoulders, Satoru looks up at you now, brows drawn together. “Hey, are you all right sweetheart?”
"Everything's... spinning a little,” you whisper, his hands are on your face instantly, his expression shifting from heady desire to worry immediately.
"Hey, look at me, I’m right here, yeah? Am I spinning too?”
You try to focus on his pretty blue eyes, but they even seem to be swirling. "Yeah, just... maybe the blunt? Or wine? I feel a little dizzy."
His thumb is stroking your cheek gently in little circles, as he takes a breath, willing his cock to go so he can focus on making sure that you’re all right. "Okay, that's enough for tonight, yeah?”
“Oh but I… wanted to…”
Satoru smirks now, easing you off his lap, little gossamer strands of slick pulling and dissolving from your panties to his cock where you’re connected. When you see the mess you made and cover your face, horrified, Satoru just looks at you curiously, brushing back your hair.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m so sorry, oh god,” he looks down at the wet patch you left and grins, a devious little grin then.
“That?” He uses his thumb to brush the slick you left, glistening with an embarrassing amount of your arousal.
“Don’t make it worse! It’s already – ah… hah you’re… um…” You can’t speak when he sucks your arousal off his fingertip, lips wrapping around it, moaning and shutting his eyes as his cheeks hollow.
He’s tasting your cunt right off his pants.
“Fuck,” he’s looking right at you again, lids heavy like he’s as fucked up as you are on him. “You’re so sweet.”
“I am?” He laughs again softly, nodding. “You tasted me?”
“Mhm.”
“Can I taste you?”
“Dear god,” you blush now as he groans, laying back on the bed for a moment and covering his eyes. “You can’t say that, looking all pretty and fucked out already, I’m trying to do the right thing.”
“I just thought if you taste me –”
“Come here,” he tugs you down for one more kiss, you land on his chest and he tilts your chin, exhaling, his breath tickling your lips. “Another time maybe, yeah? Driving me insane.”
“Am I?” You’re so fucking cute you clearly don’t know you have Satoru Gojo of all people about to cum in his damn pants.
“Very,” his hand runs down your arm carefully. “Lemme take you home.”
“You’ve been drinking though?”
“I don’t drive,” you blink curiously and Satoru chuckles. “Driver, he takes me wherever. I can take you home and head to my place.”
“Is it out of the way?”
“Not at all, you’re staying with Sukuna, yeah?”
“For a bit, till I get my own place out here yeah,” he nods and soon he’s fixing your outfit so no one could tell you’d had it scrunched up, tugged down.
“Did you eat today?”
“Uh,” you frown when you all step into the cool air after leaving the party and saying good bye to Suguru. “I think I ate a string cheese.”
“What now?” He frowns at you. “And you trained?”
“I ate some cereal this morning!”
“No wonder you’re dizzy, your girl dinner shit,” you laugh at that, stepping into the back of the car with him. “You have to eat if you drink, and you really should eat with how much you train.”
“I kind of forgot,” you admit softly, fiddling with your skirt, you’re so close to him in the backseat, and you can feel those butterflies all over again. “So those girls… they’re not your girlfriends?”
“No sweetheart, and no deflecting from the fact I’m getting you food,” he leans forward and pulls aside the partition, telling him where to go.
“Do you um… date, Satoru?”
“I um,” he rubs the back of his neck now, sighing. “Not really, but it doesn’t mean I wouldn't, I just… haven’t.”
“Same I haven’t either,” he smiles softly at you. “Though I didn’t have fun quite like you.”
“That’s okay, no need to be a slut like me,” you giggle and the sound is so cute he thinks he’d like to hear it every damn day. “How about if you eat really good all week for me, we sneak a date next weekend? It will be a first for us both.”
“A date?” You’re a blushing mess now, his own heart is racing.
Satoru hasn’t gone on a date – he’s fucked so many women, he’s had drinks, gone to their place, had them over. Small talk, not just sex, aftercare of course, but he’s never just gone out. Where would he take you, what did you like? And most importantly, how the fuck could he not let Sukuna know?
He’s a walking dead man if he knew his niece had her cunt soaking Satoru’s clothed cock tonight.
“A date, I’d like it,” you frown a bit then. “But Uncle Kuna…”
“Yeah, we’ll have to be pretty discreet,” he mumbles, you two stop and he orders you both food out the window quickly. “I think he’ll kill me if he knows we take one.”
“He will,” you sigh and take the fry he hands you, nibbling it from his fingers. “Oh I never get fast food! Sukuna’s always making healthy, protein-filled blah blah.”
“That’s good but for the weed munchies? Greasy fries,” you’re giggle as he feeds you carefully, and Satoru doesn’t know how the fuck he’ll not take every bit of time you want to give him.
He wishes he felt bad that you’re Sukuna’s niece.
He really doesn’t though, not when you’re taking a little bite of a burger and he’s dabbing your lips, smirking at you. “You’re stoned, baby.”
“Shit, I am,” you sigh and shake your head, sipping on the coke now. “I don’t think I’ll smoke again.”
“That’s probably a good idea, especially if you’re not used to it,” he sips from the same drink, lips wrapping the straw, you swipe a little drop off his lips, making him pause. “Dangerous, sweetheart.”
“Dangerous, hmm?”
“Very,” he sets down the food and cups your face, kissing your lips, sighing. “Not much is stopping me from having you cum on my fingers tonight aside from you being dizzy.”
“Oh? Oh,” your mind is flitted with filthy images as the car stops.
“And Sukuna killing me, but I think it’d be worth it to hear you moan,” you bite down on your lower lip, earning his frustrated little moan, tugging it from the grip and kissing you once more. “Get some rest, yeah? No date if I catch you calling a string cheese a meal.”
“Yes, sir,” your words about fuck him up more, sneaking one little kiss and smiling. “Tonight was so much fun, Satoru, thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” he shouldn’t be thanked when he wants to drag you right back on his lap. “Good night sweetheart.”
“Good night.”
You’re all giggling and blushing when you walk inside – just for Sukuna and Yuuji to be sitting at the dining room table, both looking at you. Yuuji, with worry, Sukuna is fucking scowling at you.
“Uh, Yuuji, you are here! Yay!”
“Yeah I flew in tonight,” you rush over and hug him, and get a little dizzy once more, he frowns, leaning back and looking at you. “Are you all right?” He whispers, as if Sukuna won’t hear.
“She’s drunk, are you drunk young lady!?”
“No sir!” You stiffen up and he snorts, rolling his ruby red eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Are you lying, brat?”
“Yes sir,” you mumble now, shoulders falling just a bit. “I only had two glasses of wine, I’m just a lightweight.”
“Wine at that party?”
“How’d you know?”
“So you did!”
“Ugh,” you go over to the fridge and grab a cold water, downing it in greedy gulps, for your uncle to scoff. “What?”
“You’re stoned too?”
“How do you know!?”
“Okay – I’m gonna sleep guys, aha,” Yuuji waves and rushes off, leaving you to the wolves, Sukuna walks right up to you, grabbing the water.
“Uncle Kuna…”
“Don’t Uncle Kuna me and bat your lashes,” his jaw tenses, filling your water with electrolyte powder. “I won’t have you hungover tomorrow.”
“Oh,” he shakes it up then hands it back, you take it gratefully, pouting and looking at the bottle. “I am sorry I went to the party, just I’ve never been to one, and I wanted so badly to see what it was all about.”
“And did you enjoy it?” You smile now, and he scowls again. “Let me guess – Satoru Gojo invited you.”
“No!” Sukuna raises a brow, making you roll your eyes. “I hung out with him and Suguru, but they were very polite.”
“Uh huh I’m sure, I swear if they harm a hair on your head–”
“I’m not a baby,” your words hit then, he frowns and looks away, making you sigh, shutting your eyes and hugging the big man tightly. “Uncle Kuna, I know you just care.”
“I have to take care of you kids,” you nod and swallow down emotions, as he pats your back. “You’re still a baby, you just think you’re grown.”
“Says such an ‘old wise man’.”
“I am.”
“You’re not much older than me,” he frowns and ruffles your hair.
“You smell like loud ass blueberry weed, I know that was fucking Choso, I’ll beat him too.”
“No you won’t,” you glare and he just tugs you tighter, squeezing you to death in his form of affection. “I won’t smoke again, but can I get credit for being twenty-two before I did?”
“No you can’t,” you’re unceremoniously shoved off him now. “Get your ass to bed, I will not let you sleep in, you have that new trainer.”
“All right, fine…” You kiss his cheek and he hides his smile, before he thinks of how he’ll kill Satoru tomorrow.
You lay in your bed and giggle, taking your phone out to see Satoru has texted you good night, you text him back with a little heart.
A date with Satoru Gojo.
The Satoru Gojo who couldn’t wait to get home, the moment he does he’s leaned against the door, he’s got his cock in his hand, spitting on it and moaning out, stroking it up and down in filthy motions, is picturing you. His thumb smears the precum drooling on his pretty blush tip, making him jerk, as texts from others go unnoticed, ignored – instead looking at the cute little heart you sent.
"Fuck, sweetheart," he whispers to nothing, his eyes squeezed shut, imagining if he did get to make you cum for the first time. God, imagine getting to have his mouth on you, to taste your cunt from the source, make you shake, tremble – fall apart on his tongue.
His grip tightens, his hips thrusting up into his slick palm, he’s embarrassingly close in a few strokes – whatever the fuck you’re doing to him, cum pulsing in white ropes, spilling down his palm, wondering if you’re touching yourself. You probably would need him to show you how, just that thought makes his cock twitch, has him whimpering as he lays his head back.
Fuck.
He wishes Sukuna’s threats would be some sort of deterrent, but as he’s looking you up like a batshit crazy psycho, not sleeping when he has practice in the morning, he knows he really doesn’t fucking care. When he’s jerking it again to your pretty little professional ice skater photos… Well, Satoru Gojo might just be obsessed with Sukuna’s niece.
He may be a walking – or jerking – dead man.
****
part two will be in a couple weeks, where things will get very complicated hehe, I'm going to have so much fun! plz be respectful as this is a commission of the character/personality chosen in the comments <3
Patreon for more exclusive fics <3 comms closed for the moment!
VICTIM #1 : jason peter todd. you saw him, you wanted him. quiet boy in the back of the library, too built for a guy with his nose shoved in a battered copy of jane eyre. he thought he knew girls like you, the same shaking tactic worked every time. not this time, you weren’t the girls who tried to win him over with batted lashes. you just had a stronger will than them.
WATCH OUT .ᐟ smut, MANEATER!READER, glasses!jason todd, booksmart!jason todd, he thinks he’s capable of resisting maneater!reader but noooo, riding, marking, thighsman!jason, he also low-key is a tits man, reader chews bubble gum, rich!reader, munch!jason, shy!jason, yes, reader is a player but she really wants jay, body rolls because we all have them and this is size-inclusive, we’re not all skinny bitches, phone sex??? kinda, dirty talk, switch!jay, canonically bi!reader, genius!literate!reader, she's smart, y'all, chance encounters, jason really wants that cookie, glasses kink (reader’s side), panties kink!jason, m.masturbation, seduction, shameless!reader, he quickly becomes obsessed with reader in a sexy way, dw, whimperer!jason, we love a reader who’s a bad person
ADDITIONALS : bad girls (m.i.a)
The librarian took an eyeful of your ass when you walked in. She was on the phone with her loving boyfriend.
You didn't mind one bit. You'd come in for a copy of Sense and Sensibility so you could scoff at the characters, but it wasn't like you'd dress for the occasion. Even if you stuck out like a sore thumb in tiny denim shorts.
The library was pretty much a hunting ground. More often than not you found the best fuck from the boys and girls with their heads in a book. Bars had been filled with men who think they're more well endowed than they are, but the three inch dicks spoke for themselves.
A nerd you had sex with last week sidled up to you, rubbing the back of his neck. The vomit green sweater he had on almost made you retch. Some guys had such terrible fashion choices. "Hey." He murmured, side-glancing you, your nose almost wrinkled. "Remember me? You said you'd call me."
You almost laughed. "I did, didn't I? I guess the bad sex just put me off."
"You said it was amazing." He mumbled, his face flushing. You didn't miss his glance to your tits.
You actually laughed this time, snapping your fingers in his face. "Eyes up here." You smirked, looking him over. Your hand ran down the coarse fibres of his sweater. "Practice how to fuck a girl, then I'll call you." A six foot two hunk of something walked through the shelves behind the guy you were currently talking to.
This guy had your attention. He'd settled himself at a table with Jane Eyre, pushing his glasses up his nose as he opened the book, perusing the front page. Huh. Graphic tee, leather jacket, worn jeans and this guy was musing over a classic.
Your eyes swept him, the lip bite was involuntary but he just triggered that. His jaw was begging for some purple marks, you could lick up that popping vein in his neck. Leather creaked and strained against his biceps— mm, what you wouldn't give to ride those. The pretty flush on his cheeks, they'd bloom a deep scarlet when you get him under you. Not if, when.
Who's this? And did he know he was making your panties wet?
"Bitch." The guy beside you — Mark, or something boring like that — grunted as he walked off.
"This bitch made you call her mommy." You clapped back, eyes still on the fine man across the room. His lips were rosy, you just knew this man ate pussy.
Your heels thunked on the carpet as you strutted over. "Have we met before?" You asked, drawing his attention away from the book. "Could've sworn I've seen you from somewhere." Yeah, the line was overused. That was the point.
"Uh, no, we haven't." Jason replied awkwardly, even more so as your palms rested on the table. He got a full view of you. Your skin had the glow of body oil, your gloss put a magnifying glass to your lips, crisp eyeliner, sunglasses perched on your head — who the fuck wore those to be indoors — chain dangling from your neck. Following the metal led to a clear view of your chest hidden by the lace of a bra peeking over a leopard print cami. You looked like you'd walked out of a Y2K magazine, like all the girls who’d shoved their tits in his face. He wasn’t dealing with that again. "Can I... help you with something?" He had pretty eyes. Where does a man get off, having those eyes?
You pointed to the book about American history beside him. “Can you pass me that?” Of all the god-awful flirting tactics that usually worked, it didn’t this time. He just muttered “sure” and passed you the book, going back to Jane Eyre.
What the fuck? How thick was his skull?
You walked out with frustration bubbling under heated skin. That was the first time a man didn’t stutter at the sight of you. He’d just acted like a book was more interesting than your lips. Fuck him for being that sexy and playing hard to get.
You’d missed his flush when his eyes fixed on your thighs as you exited.
Your stupid Carerra Cabriolet had broken down on the side of the road, when it was fucking boiling out. At least you’d chosen another tank today, it made things a little easier for you when you had your tools out, bent under the bonnet of the car, trying to figure out the problem.
The roar of a bike almost deafened you, until it stopped right beside you. Your eyes locked on faded Levis, biker boots, but those arms were unmistakeable. The tip of your tongue traced the outline of your canine, lips stretching the longer you recognised that build, those god-gifted hands that were tracing the pages of a book just a few days ago.
Would you look at that. The library hottie.
He lifted his helmet off, ruffling his flattened hair so it’d stick up. The black fell in front of mossy green eyes, which took you in. You were the same girl from the library, the one who he accidentally checked out when you walked away. The sun kissed your thighs from its perch in the sky, his gaze trailed up, up, tracing, memorising the black lace of panties peeking above the waistband of your shorts like they did again with your tank top. You seemed to be a fan of that. Your chest rose and fell with every laboured breath. He caught the tongue tracing your canine. Maybe he shouldn’t have stopped.
“Car trouble?” He asked, hooking his helmet on the handlebars of his bike. “That’s some great luck, in this heat.” His eyes followed a bead of sweat trailing down your neck. His tongue ached— fuck, why was it doing that?
“I sure am lucky.” You replied, velvet voice making something in his fingers twitch. And somewhere else that he wouldn’t mention right now. “D’you know your way around cars? I could use some help here.”
He should say no. He should say he didn’t know shit then drive off in his bike, but he wasn’t a liar and he wasn’t gonna strand you out here in high heats. So, yeah, he took his swelteringly hot jacket off — fashion over comfort if he wasn’t Red Hood — slinging it over your car’s trunk. “Yeah. Yeah, I can help.” He was so going to regret this.
Your eyes were still on him. The black highlighting your eyes only making warmth creep up his spine and making its way to his ears, but you didn’t budge. You just stared. His hands hovered by either sides of your waist, eyes tracing the curves, the rolls of your stomach as you bent a little towards him. A soft “fuck” was at the tip of his tongue.
His hands gripped your waist, moving you gently— shit, the callouses on his hands. They were rough on your skin; you weren’t afraid to somehow into that. Maybe all the men who overuse hand cream sensitised you to the guys who actually used their hands. “Sorry, can I just…”
He was keeping talking to a minimum. It made you smile, especially as his black tank brushed your back and his fingers pressed into the skin where your tank rode up. “Sorry.” He mumbled again, looking under the bonnet. His eyes caught the spark plug. “Here.” He gestured to your spark plug. “You’ve got a worn spark plug. Got a spare?”
“Yeah, I do.” You bent down, you felt his eyes slide over your ass, greedy, and down your legs, stopping at your high-heeled boots. Ripping his eyes away from you as you stood up, crisp wing striking again. He didn’t miss the glint in your irises when he took the plug from you, manicured nails scraping his fingers. His soft muttered “thanks” punctuated the replacement of the spark plug, and without another word, he backed off to his bike. Hoping to get away before his brain betrayed him.
“Can I get your number?” Your voice stopped him in his tracks. He tried not to look at your lips, your moving jaw as you chewed on spearmint gum that burned the back of his throat. “In case this kinda thing happens again. I could use a guy who’s good with his hands.” You really would use him.
“I, um, ok.” He swallowed, putting out his hand for your phone. You gave it to him, the freakishly soft pads of your fingers caressing his knuckles this time. He was fucked. But he keyed in his phone number, pressing the ‘save contact’ button and giving it back to you. You read the contact name.
“Jason.” His name slid over your tongue, through his veins, straight to his dick. What was it about you? He swore he was better than this. “Can finally put a name to the face.”
“Yeah, well, I can’t.” He regretted that as soon as it left his mouth. Now he couldn’t avoid making a connection, treating you like you actually meant something in his life. If he let you mean something, you’d distract him, he knew your type.
Oh, he didn’t know shit about you.
Your laugh shot up his spine, your name rang a million times in his brain when you gave it. It rang in the daydream of you on top of him, clothed pussy moving slow, languid, over his cock. It rang every time he moaned your name in that fucked up image. He— he had to stop that. Now. “See you.” He almost tripped over his words, swinging a leg to mount his bike. Your smile was fresh in his head. Your tongue, your teeth that and caught your bottom lip as you watched him drive away.
You’d have him. One way or another.
Your name lit up his phone one random Friday afternoon. A text, a simple one. Your shower stopped working suddenly and you needed his help.
“M’not a fucking plumber,” He muttered, but it was pathetic how quickly he stood up and got his jacket on. Pathetic was how fast his index hooked his keys like he was, line and sinker. Maybe he was your plumber. And mechanic. He could be anything you wanted him to be.
This was either the start of a really bad joke, or highly erotic pornography.
He hesitated before knocking on your door. Ignoring how he’d spent the last five minutes driving above the speed limit. Denial was one of five stages of grief, or its distant cousin: horniness.
He waited. One minute second, two minutes seconds, three— the door swung open.
A silk robe was wrapped around your body. Tied in a knot. Damp hair plastered to your cheeks, valley of your tits covered with cascading droplets that disappeared down the V of the fabric. Very… flimsy fabric that was covering you. Barely. Your no-gloss smile still stole his gaze. How were your lashes curled with no mascara? Your leg peeked out from beneath the silk. His breath hitched. His face flushed. “You came.” You purred.
“You called.” He replied stiffly, stepping in. Kicking off his shoes by the door. Your apartment was… luxurious, but he wasn’t expecting less. He was almost expecting a brothel. But that was stereotyping, he wasn’t a big fan of that. “So, your shower just stopped working?”
“Out of the blue.”
“What makes you think I know how to fix it?”
“A hunch.” The grin you had on made him feel like he ate shit. The defeatist sigh was his white flag.
“Your hunch would be right.” You notched the win on your robe’s belt. You watched his ass as he disappeared into your bathroom. Bingo.
It wasn’t like you were lying about the shower, it had stopped right before you were about to put on a hair mask. It just gave you a very good excuse to call your pet project over.
“Looks like it’s a pipe issue, I got it.” He called over his shoulder. This bathtub was bigger than his single bed. But then again it attested to the difference between la bourgeoisie and la pété thune. Draped over a radiator was your loungewear. Tiny things— rib-knit cami, sleep shorts that probably stopped just short of your ass, matching white panties. In a row, right there.
The panties caught his eye. They were soft, lace at the trim, satin otherwise, fuckin’ gorgeous. You wore those. Just to sleep, you wore those. What the fuck. Why the fuck. Why the fuck was his mouth watering? His tongue heavy? Aching? Begging to circle your clit over the fabric with his tongue just so he could watch the fabric dampen, drench, cling to your cunt? He had to get out of here. Drive off. Start a new life, maybe crash at Dick’s place in Blüdhaven. He’d be safer there.
He found the pipe problem. He fixed it, it was backed up. The panties called his name; since when was he susceptible to that?
“Those were a gift from Victoria’s Secret.” He hadn’t noticed his gaze was fixed on the white fabric draped on the radiator. It snapped back to you. You were leaning against the doorframe, tongue back on your canine. Now that he looked again, he realised it was pointy, like a vampire.
Now that he looked again, he wanted it to drag up his neck.
He looked back at the panties, back to you, tripping over his tongue. “I—I didn’t mean to—” He still stood up, ready to plead guilty and for forgiveness, but your hum stopped his train of thoughts.
You pointed at the panties, tilting your head. “You can keep those.” His brain almost short-circuited. Huh? “I don’t mind.” This was… if you were sane, you’d kick him out. Scream. Maybe get a restraining order.
“I—” Words caught in his throat, “you—”
“Keep them.” You insisted softly, picking up the panties, finger hooking into his belt loops. A sharp tug brought him close, too close for his dick to be comfortable in his jeans. Your fingers slipped into his front pocket of his Levis, tucking the satin panties into them. Never breaking eye contact. Your spearmint breath fanning across his lips. “Never gave you a proper thank you. For saving me twice.”
“You don’t need to do that.” He almost leaned in himself. To get a taste of whatever was on your tongue, to satiate himself while he didn’t have access to your pussy.
Your lips tugged. Into a smile that burned his insides. “Sure?”
“No.” He breathed, and his whole body melted before your lips even captured his. More like devoured. That was a better word for the nasty smack of lips on lips and how your nails carded into his hair. How you pushed your saliva into his mouth with your tongue, forcing his lips apart with a sharp tug to the hair at his nape.
He couldn’t stop the moan. The whine. His hands helplessly grabbed at your thighs, silk bunching up, itching to undo the robe, lips attaching to your jugular, sloppy, open-mouthed, greedy kisses stamped onto your skin.
You got him.
You’d got him, but you pulled him off your neck by the collar of his shirt. “Another time, sweetie.” His head followed the drag of your finger down his jaw, pressing into your finger as it trailed down his chest. “Gotta finish my shower.”
“When?” He rasped, pupils blown. Dick hard. Breath laboured after you pulled all the oxygen he had from his lungs.
You paused, pouting as you mused. “I’ll call you.”
Fuck.
He wished it was you riding him. He had to settle for your panties instead.
The fabric was soft against his palms, even more so against his dick as he fisted it. This wasn't even a measured affair, his sweats were haphazardly pulled down so the waistband collected around his upper thigh. Same went for his boxers, sheets only covering him from the knees down. Everything was silent, too still, save for his frantic breaths, whimpers and faint thwaps of his hand moving up and down his cock.
He needed your cunt to drag up his dick and make it wet, he needed your pussy to suck in his dick, to use it, use him, he needed your mouth by his ear telling him how good he made you feel. He was incomplete without it.
"Fuck, ma, please," He didn't know why he was begging, when you couldn't hear him. You were in your apartment, you couldn't hear him calling out your name to God knows who. Maybe worshipping at your altar was enough to grant him permission to, y'know, come.
Some sick part of him wanted to call you up. Ask you whether he could finally have an orgasm he'd been chasing for the last thirty minutes, it was a twisted thought, but his hand scrambled for his phone on his bedside table. Almost knocking it over amidst his moans.
He’d put you on speed dial at some point. He’d blacked out when he did, apparently, he couldn’t remember when. Sometime between fantasising you on top of him and picturing eating your pussy. The two weren’t mutually exclusive.
His thumb frantically tapped on the green button, knowing it was an ungodly hour of the morning. Knowing you said you’d call him when you wanted to fuck. He just wasn’t pressed to wait.
But you knew it’d happen. You’d been ticking off the hours in your head, laying on your king-size, for when this six-two hunk of a man would crack and call you, desperate for your permission. You’d played the waiting game before.
So you waited again.
Let the phone ring for ten seconds, really dragging it out, letting him delay himself that tiny bit more for an ego trip. He stared at your caller ID the longer his moans grew louder. His hand slowed down because he hadn’t heard your voice yet, he hadn’t asked you—
“Hello?” Your voice, sickly sweet, rang out from the phone. He put you off speaker, slamming the phone to his ear, so close, so ready, whining into the microphone. Your lips curled on the other end.
You could only hear his breathing. His paced up puffs of breath punctuated by needy whines which had your panties soaking through. Gosh, this really was something. “Speak up, Jason.” You sing-songed, prompting a low groan from him.
“Need t’come, ma.” He couldn’t recognise his own voice. Raspy, hoarse, from all the broken sounds he’d been letting out for god knows how long. “Can I—? Please — shiiiit — please lemme, m’so close.”
Your laugh was taunting. It only shot a shiver up his spine. “Oh, Jay,” He could practically hear your smirk through the phone, “you really need my pussy, huh?”
“Fuck, yeah, I do.” He nodded frantically, hand picking up the pace around his cock. Satin dragging against his skin. “Wanna — haah— feel that fuckin’ pussy around my cock, wanna— wanna taste it, m’gonna eat you so good, ma—”
Huh. You’d managed to break this guy in a matter of a week, an incredible feat, even for your standards. Here he was, babbling about going down on you. Your index crept down to circle your clit over your shorts. Your long sigh soothed his ear. “Mhm, Jay, I know, baby— come f’me?” The sugar talking earned you a deep moan from the other end, the shallow breaths and whimper of your name telling you he’d definitely come. His head thudded back against the pillows, covering his dick with your panties so they caught every thick rope of come. He felt so dirty. “Sounded so good, sweetie." That made it feel better. Less pervy.
There was a pause as he caught his breath and composure. “Fuck, ma, when m’I gonna see you?”
You'd never felt like this before.
Jason's tongue dragged over your cunt, almost folding you in half in the effort to make your thighs clamp around his head. His face was buried in your pussy, slurping whatever you had to give him, so much so that saliva mixed with your dripping arousal. He was moaning, moaning, against your clit, bumping it with his nose.
He was too fucked out to be methodical. Too fucked out from fucking his fist with your satin panties for a week when "I'll call you" was a long time coming. You'd finally told him to come over, after seven tortuous days.
He'd narrowly avoided getting a speeding ticket.
He rolled his hips, humping the bed so his dick would get some friction, pads of his fingers sure-fire bruising your skin, they'd be visible for days. You'd be walking around with his fingerprints blooming just under the hem of your shorts. That was hot.
Obscene slurping sounds had you gripping his hair harder as his thumb flicked and teased your clit, two fingers filling you up. "Oh, shiit, Jay," Your eyes rolled back at the intrusion. You were keeping him, for sure.
His fingers were long. Thick. Crooked from being broken one too many times. They instantly brushed your g-spot, he curled them just right, you couldn't help the moan that came when his lips wrapped around your clit and sucked. Stacking one thing on top of another so he could make you feel as good as he did over the phone.
"Look at this—" He stopped to whine against your pussy, vibrations sending your head knocking back against your headboard, "this pretty fuckin' pussy, huh?" He was just babbling at this point, trailing off into incoherence the longer he licked you clean. "Kept me waiting so long, ma, jus' wanna make you feel good."
He'd never felt this bliss before.
Your clit dragged on the base of his cock every time you lifted yourself up and dropped back down. Hard slaps of skin on skin was the soundtrack to Jason grabbing your thighs in a frenzy, pupils blown, unable to look away while letting out the most lascivious moans you'd ever heard in your life as his glasses tilted with every bounce of you on his cock.
This was either the start of a really bad joke or highly erotic pornography.
That question got answered real quick.
He propped himself up, to be able to fuck up into you but also kiss the tits that had been taunting him for ages, sucking your nipple into his mouth like it owed him rent. You couldn't help the grab onto the strands of his hair that desperately needed a trim as he sucked insistently, one hand sliding between your thighs so he could rub his name onto your clit with two fingers. You'd spelled out your name in hickeys that spanned his neck and chest. Lipstick prints spanned his jaw and scarlet smeared over his lips.
His green eyes were desperate, looking up at you. "Fuuuck, ma, s'good," He mumbled incoherently, releasing your tits with a slick pop to run aimless kisses over your neck, "s'warm, feels fuckin'—" The smacks of his hips against yours, the smacks of his lips on your skin, they sent you barrelling to a new high.
Your hand messed up his hair, other leaving red trails across his back. Scarlet that any girl would look at and realise that this man belonged to someone. If they didn't get the hint from the smudged lipstick and hickeys. "Yeah, Jay, you're so good, huh?" You praised, his hips picked up the pace. Your head tilted back, clamping down on him, he swore into the crook of your neck. "I'm— m'coming, baby, come with me, yeah?"
"Uh-huh — shit, I — haah —" It was a wave submerging him that reached you too. A cry of each other's names that would end up with a noise complaint at your door the next morning, considering the headboard had been knocking the wall for the past two hours. He'd come inside you, warmth filling you till you felt it in your throat, hand stroking his hair as his breath shuddered against your neck. You were keeping him, for sure.
He lifted his head from your neck, you reached out to wipe the sweat from his flushed temple. His head followed your hand like it held his will to live.
❥you & bakugo won’t say you’re dating, but there will be signs
BAKUSQUAD CASE FILES — CASE STUDY #1.
observed by — mina ashido
“y/n says she and bakugo aren’t dating. but i swear i caught them playing footsies during study hall.”
⟡
mina assumes it’s a trick of the light.
sero’s stalking hot moms on facebook. denki & kiri are trying to start a fire with a comically large magnifying glass. & when mina sees bakugo tickle your ankle with the toe of his sock, mina’s quick to assume the sight’s caused by the refractive index of light through the magnifying glass or whatever mumbo-jumbo they learned during last tuesday’s physics class.
but it happens again.
and this time you giggle.
and so mina has no choice but to accept magnifying glasses cannot bend sound.
mina puts on sero’s eyeglasses. they’re purely decorative, but she feels more intuitive regardless. she buries her nose between CGP’s A-Level biology guide & pretends she isn’t observing the way your eyes glint anytime you manage to nick katsuki in the shins.
bakugo’s face is stone still.
to the untrained eye, he’s simply solving calculus questions a mile a minute. but then he grunts.
mina doesn’t miss the way he grins when he nabs you in the thigh.
BAKUSQUAD CASE FILES — CASE STUDY #2.
observed by — sero hanta
‘bakugo swears y/n isn’t anyone special to him. so why the hell does he have her contact saved as ‘mine?’
⟡
the first time sero hanta ever decides to show up early, he’s stuck waiting at a theatre with an angry bakugo at his side.
not to say the fiery blond isn’t usually angry. but this time said anger comes with heat: he’s grinding straw between his molars so hard plastic cracks between his teeth. his feet tap like it’ll make time go by sooner. it doesn’t.
“i’m gonna kill that damn shitty hair.”
“we’re the ones who’re thirty minutes early.”
“shut the fuck up.”
dumb dog sero hanta does as he’s told. katsuki stews a little longer, neck rash red, phone clicking locked & unlocked till he decides he’s had enough—or till the anger reaches his bladder. “‘m going to the bathroom, watch my shit.”
katsuki doesn’t bother waiting for a reply. his hands shove in his pockets as he makes his way to the bathroom, phone tucked firm between sero’s palms. sero hanta knows better than to hold it with anything less than an iron grip. but then it buzzes—& almost cartoonishly, the phone hops & skips before settling between his fingers
sero sees the notification before he can pretend otherwise.
mine🫀: mina and i are otw
mine🫀 : hope we’ll make it. this girl can NOT drive.
sero muffles a snort. the text holds truth, mina cannot, in fact drive. he recalls the time she picked him up to go to the beach and—wait.
is that text from y/n?
he’s quick to take a picture, send it to the ‘inBESTigators 🕵️🔍’ GC. before he can even close his phone & resume playing saint, kiri’s response comes in.
ripped riot 🔥: could be a typo
ripped riot 🔥: like ‘mine’ could be short for miner
pikachu ⚡️[replying to ripped riot 🔥] : are we deadass
sero’s about to type a response of his own before the familiar heavy steps of steve maddens sag at his ears. katsuki’s back, jaw tight & angrier than ever.
further investigation will have to wait.
BAKUSQUAD CASE FILES — CASE STUDY #3.
observed by — denki kaminari
‘when the fuck did bakugo get funny?’
⟡
autumn break means thanksgiving shopping & black friday sales that make twelve dollar products drop to eleven ninety-nine. denki’s shopping for snacks, kiri needs energy drinks & you’re here for produce. katsuki is here because you all need his membership to get into costco.
something isn’t right.
& denki’s not talking about how the price of cheetos have somehow gone up. he’s talking about the fact that katsuki stands firm behind you, hands in pockets as you show him fruit. that’s fine—bakugo’s always been able to tell which apples are good & which aren’t.
but no apple evaluation requires katsuki to lean in that close.
and denki’s pretty sure there’s nothing funny about granny smiths either.
so why the fuck are you giggling ?
kaminari’s eyes flit to katsuki’s. if he was any other classmate, he’d say katsuki was bored. lips tight, eyes neutral, jaw slack. but denki’s no other classmate. he recognizes that twitch in his brow. the bob in his jugular.
katsuki is pleased. at least, denki thinks—no, swears he is. but just to be safe, he chooses to call in an actual katsuki expert. kirishima’s fatass is trying yet another free sample. for the sake of peace, denki chooses not to comment & instead goes straight to business.
“yo, kiri—i’m not seeing stuff, right? is bakugo not smirking and making y/n laugh??”
kirishima, in true fatass fashion, responds with a mouth filled with mini tacos. “I down’t see ‘t”
“bro. chew.”
“I don’t see it,” kiri gulps. “don’t you think we should respect their privacy?”
“we’re at a costco??”
but kaminari drops it. if the katsuki expert himself says there’s nothing, there’s obviously nothing.
right ?
BAKUSQUAD CASE FILES — CASE STUDY #4.
observed by — literally everyone
‘katsuki and y/n are definitely dating. oh, and kiri’s getting kicked from the group chat.’
⟡
mina ashido is not playing around.
the rest of the gang isn’t either. kaminari’s flipping through a scrapbook titled ‘PHOTOGRAPHICAL EVIDENCE.’ sero’s screenshotting group chat messages that sound too fond to not be affectionate. kirishima’s got his laptop open, looking over ‘evidence spreadsheets’ he swears aren’t empty.
but they are. and mina, rivaled only by sherlock himself, notices.
“kirishima, cell B-4. what’s written in there ?”
“I—uh, cell? what do you—“
“aha—” mina shuts her book. she’s towering over eijiro now, hands on her hips & glare so sharp it melts kiri like—well, acid.
“you’re not really doing anything.”
sero lifts a brow. kaminari gives the stink-eye.
“matter of fact…” mina continues, “you haven’t done anything. compiling evidence. listening in on on their convos. you haven’t done anything we’ve asked you to.”
“yeah,” sero quips. his phone’s in his lap now. “matter of fact, you always had some excuse about why you couldn’t.”
“matter of fact,” denki joins, “you’re always trying to deny evidence. talking about us ‘being delusional’.”
oh, kirishima’s in trouble now. blood in his jugular. tar in his throat. “I—“
mina can’t make up what happens next.
The door opens. It’s katsuki—not surprising—they’re literally all seated in a circle on the mat in his dorm. plans to hang out & just chill today—the usual. kiri is bakugo’s roommate. getting in isn’t a fuss.
but you’re right beside bakugo.
and your finger’s in his belt loop.
mina blinks. you haven’t noticed them yet. you look all calm and pretty, lashes low, eyes glued to your phone screen. your finger’s looped around the belt-hole like you’ve done it a thousand times before, and—
is that katsuki’s hoodie?
“what the fuck are you losers doing here?”
kiri’s already scrambling to defend the situation—something about she & the others showing up an hour early, he didn’t know, don’t blast us all—but mina’s not listening. she’s wondering if the refractive index of light is so strong it somehow made it look like katsuki gave your hand a light squeeze before tapping your hand off his jeans.
you’re still quiet behind him. hair all cute, jam-pink cheeks, fawn freckled & doe-eyed. kiri and katsuki are going back and forth. sero’s joined in. kaminari’s farted because he thinks no one will notice.
“y/n, is that bakugo’s hoodie?”
you can hear a pin drop. and another fart from kaminari.
“no, it’s—“
“it’s mine.” katsuki steps forward, hands in pockets & posture lazy like he didn’t say something scandalous. “got a problem, pinkie pie?”
“i could never.”
katsuki hums. he tugs you gently by the palm, door clicking shut behind him with the kick of his shin. he trudges toward the group, right hand in his pocket, left in yours—and he murmurs a quiet sit in your ear before doing a once-over.
“what’s all this?”
“evidence.”
“homework.”
“not evidence.”
tongue click. “evidence of ?”
“the refractive index of light.”
“you and y/n dating.”
“not you and y/n dating.”
“uh-huh,” katsuki picks up a photograph. he recognizes the scene: you’re tucked in his side, showing him something on your phone while he leans too close to be considered casual. you’re giggling here. cute.
he pockets it. “you guys are a bunch of fuckin’ idiots. and you—“ he turns to kirishima,
“no, no bro listen,” kirishima’s palm rests on his neck, an apologetic glance in your direction before he answers, “I did try to get them to leave you guys alone. they wouldn’t listen!”
“aha! so you were a traitor!”
bakugo glares. mina shrinks.
a muffled giggle pierces the silence. then a snort. & now you’re full on laughing—
“oh my god,” you sniffle, “you guys know we were literally gonna tell you, right?”
“tell us when?” sero speaks up, long moved away from kaminari. “it seems kiri here already knew about it.”
bakugo grunts. “why do you idiots think you’re here?”
oh.
bakugo takes a seat beside you. sero’s avoiding eye contact. kaminari’s avoiding the cheetos. mina bites her lip. you’re leaning over katsuki’s thigh now, photo evidence flip-book in your hands. you’re pointing out familiar photos while laughing & shaking your head, and bakugo’s looking back with a gaze so soft that mina doesn’t know how she didn’t see it sooner.
“i think we owe you two an apology.”
katsuki’s got his fingers twisting your knuckle. “y’think?”
sero, mina, and denki all look towards each other.
“we’re sorry.”
“for what?”
“for stalking you guys.”
“and not trusting that you’d tell us.”
“and being idiots.”
katsuki hums, satisfied. but he’s not done yet. he leans back on his palms before gently poking your hip. “should we forgive ‘em?”
“maybe. if they can send some of these photos.”
bakugo nods, turns to mina. “you heard the missus.”
“girl, take the whole book. like—seriously. omg.”
you hug it towards your chest, and mina can tell bakugo’s fighting a smile.
“right. and since you guys know now, you can all leave.”
the three protest. kiri interrupts. “i think it’s for the best. it’s been a long day.”
“that includes you, shitty hair.”
“huh—what?! this is my room too!”
“don’t care,” katsuki tugs you up with him, grip gentle, palm flat against your back as he steers you towards his bed.
“and didn’t ask,” he glances over his shoulder, “all of you, out.”
I hate how people only see Queen Persephone as the flower girl.
She's a goddess of change, she wants you to be constantly moving.
She's a goddess of maturity, she's going to put you in positions where the only thing you can do is grow up.
She's a dreadful goddess, she can take away anything you love in a heartbeat (don't tempt her).
I've seen a lot of things she has done to change my life and you can't imagine the strength and the power she manages. You won't believe the things I've seen her do, for real her name doesn't mean "Bringer of Death" for nothing.
Love her dark side, love her entirely. Love Queen Persephone for all she is, no matter how obscure and scary she can be.
If you can't accept her nature, don't approach her.
summary: in which you overhear sirius calling you his girl, like it’s the simplest truth he’s ever known. thus, a lovesick and kiss-drunk sirius makes it his mission to say it again, and again, until you finally believe it.
warnings: fluff, excessive affection, pet names, public displays of affection, mild teasing, soft!sirius who’s so in love, overwhelming sweetness, lovesick behavior, lots of kissing, tooth rotting fluff
word count: 3.1k
masterlist
The thing about dating Sirius Black is that it never quite feels real.
Not in the way people describe disbelief, like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, but in that strange, dreamy sense of stumbling into a story someone else might’ve written—some fairytale stitched with mischief and the kind of heat that lingers in the spaces between words.
It has been a few months now.
Enough time for your friends to stop blinking in surprise every time they catch you smiling at him, enough time for the rumors to die down and the whispers in the halls to quiet to a low murmur—though they never go away entirely when it comes to Sirius.
He is, after all, Sirius Black: loud-mouthed and sharp-eyed, honey-voiced and maddeningly beautiful.
And yet, somehow, he chose you. Or maybe you chose each other, slowly, stupidly,and sweetly.
You know what people must think. That you temper him. That he ignites you. That your silences fill in the blanks he never bothers to pause for. That he, for all his recklessness, somehow found something steady in you.
Which is why you’re heading to meet him now outside of class. Sirius had promised to spend the entire day with you today, as he was lately busy with studying.
You’re almost there when you hear his voice.
It’s not unusual—he talks loudly, as though the air is something that belongs to him, like even his words are allergic to restraint. But it’s the way he says something now that makes your steps falter.
You’re still around the corner, concealed by the stone archway. You hadn’t meant to eavesdrop.
“Sirius!” James Potter’s voice cuts through the corridor, warm and familiar, and it’s easy to picture his wide grin as he strides up to him.
“Come on, padfoot. We’ve got a pitch slot and I need someone to test my latest throw. You still owe me from last week when you ditched.”
Sirius laughs, the sound low and raspy in the way you’ve come to know too well. “Didn’t ditch,” he says.
“Oh, piss off,” James retorts. “You coming or not?”
There’s a pause. You imagine Sirius running a hand through his hair the way he always does when he’s pretending to think, when in reality he’s already made up his mind and just wants to seem dramatic.
“Can’t,” Sirius says finally, not sounding even the slightest bit apologetic. “I’ve got a packed schedule today.”
James scoffs, exaggerated. “What, you’ve started revising now? What exactly are you busy with?”
“No,” Sirius replies, too casual, too breezy. And then, with no warning at all, he adds, “I’m spending the day with my girl.”
It hits you like a whispered spell.
Not “my girlfriend,” not your name, not even some half-serious nickname. Just that. My girl.
You’re suddenly aware of everything—of the way your heart is thudding against your ribs like it’s trying to escape your chest, of the heat crawling up the back of your neck, of the way your fingers have curled slightly into your sleeves like you’re trying to make yourself smaller.
You’ve never been someone who takes up space easily, and right now, the sound of those two words fills every corner of your body, makes you feel almost... lit up.
It’s not the fact that he said it. You know you're his girl. He’s told you in the way he tucks his fingers into the loops of your jeans just to pull you closer in the quiet corners of the library.
In the way he lights up when he sees you walk into the common room, mid-sentence with Remus, stopping only to grin like you’ve rewired the gravity in the room.
In the way he sits behind you during study sessions just to braid strands of your hair and mutter things like “beautiful,” and “gorgeous.”
But still—my girl.
You’re fairly certain you and James both made the same face at the same time. That vaguely unhinged, utterly stunned, slack-jawed expression that usually precedes a dramatic spill or a burst of inappropriate laughter in the Great Hall.
Somewhere in your brain, a single electrical wire sparked, and then everything short-circuited.
You could practically see James’s eyebrows lifting halfway to the ceiling, and it’s almost hilarious, almost.
Because you would have laughed—if you weren’t frozen, rooted to your spot like some enchanted statue.
Then came Sirius’s voice again, casual and clear, carrying from inside the classroom, smug in the way only Sirius Black can be when he knows exactly where he’s headed.
“Anyway, I’ve gotta go,” he says, and you can hear the smirk in his voice, “She’s probably already out there waiting for me.”
James groans dramatically. “Tell your girl I’m filing for abandonment.”
“See you later, prongs,” Sirius calls back, followed by the scraping sound of a chair and the creak of hinges swinging open.
Panic sparks in your chest.
You leap back from the wall like you’ve just been caught with your ear pressed to the keyhole—because, well, you have, essentially—and immediately fumble with your bag, turning slightly so it looks like you’ve just arrived.
And then there he is.
Leaning against the doorframe like it’s something he was born to do. Hair half-tucked behind his ears, tie loose, expression bright and unreasonably happy for someone who got an earful from Slughorn not two days ago.
His eyes find you instantly, like he was already reaching for the sight of you before he even walked out.
“Hi, baby,” he says, voice soft and amused and utterly at home in the syllables.
“Hi!,” you reply, a little too fast.
His brow lifts slightly. “Hi.”
Your heart trips. “Hi.”
He stares at you for a beat, then lets out the kind of laugh that sounds like it comes from his chest. The kind of laugh that should probably be bottled and sold as some form of antidote in your humble opinion.
“You look a little too happy for a Monday, baby,” he says, stepping closer, his hands shoved in his pockets and his head tilted as he studies you. “What’s happening?”
You shrug with deliberate nonchalance, fighting the smile that tugs at your lips. “Can’t I be happy?”
He grins like you’ve just said something precious. “Of course you can,” he says, reaching out to squish your cheeks between his hands so your words are suddenly a little garbled.
“Just wanna know what’s got you extra happy today.”
You mumble something unintelligible, eyes darting away, and he narrows his own suspiciously.
“Hmm?”
You free your face from his fingers and try not to giggle. “It’s nothing.”
“Nuh-uh,” he says, tilting his head with mock offense. “You don’t get to smile like that and then say ‘nothing.’ Come on, tell me.”
You hesitate, toeing the stone floor with your shoe. “I, um. I heard you.”
Sirius blinks. “You heard me?”
“In class,” you clarify, shifting your weight to the other foot and feeling heat crawl up your neck. “When you were talking to James.”
He tilts his head again. “You get happy when I talk to James? That’s new,” he murmurs, brushing his knuckles softly across your cheek—his touch featherlight.
His eyes, usually sharp with mischief, are softened now, warm and brimming with a quiet kind of awe.
You swat at his chest lightly. “No, Sirius.”
He laughs again, utterly delighted. “Okay, okay, sorry. What did I say?”
You bite your lip and look away. “Never mind. Forget it.”
“Absolutely not,” he says, eyes glinting with curiosity. “Now I need to know.”
You shake your head stubbornly, lips pursed, trying not to smile, but Sirius isn’t fooled.
He takes a slow step closer, tall enough that his shadow stretches over you, the scent of him curling into your breath. The air between you tightens.
“Wait,” he says suddenly, voice pitched low with amusement, grin sharpening like he’s just solved a riddle he’s been working on since breakfast, “Was it when I called you my girl?”
Your face gives you away in an instant.
Your eyes widen, the way they always do when you’re caught off guard, as if your thoughts have leapt too fast for your expression to catch up. Heat blooms high in your cheeks, blooming pink and soft across your skin like sunrise, betraying every effort to stay composed.
“Oh my god,” he says, actually laughing now, hands braced on his hips as if the revelation physically knocked the wind out of him. “That’s what got you all smiley?”
You narrow your eyes, cheeks blazing. “Stop laughing!”
He tries, he really does, but the laughter keeps bubbling out of him, shameless and golden.
You huff and turn on your heel, nose in the air like you’ve just declared a personal war against him.
But you don’t get far.
Before you can take a single step away, he moves—quick and fluid, one long stride and he’s behind you.
His fingers find your waist with ease, curling firmly around your sides, and in one seamless motion, he pulls you back—hard enough to make you stumble slightly—until you're flush against his chest.
He holds you close. So close it feels like you’re standing inside the space between seconds.
“Hey, hey, c’mere,” he murmurs, voice lower now, softer, brushing against your skin like silk. His arms slip around you fully, drawing you in again, and this time, you don’t resist.
“Why so shy, baby?” he whispers, tilting his head, eyes sparkling with mischief and tenderness all tangled together.
You pout instinctively, your fingers resting lightly against his chest. “Nothing.”
His brows lift. “No, no. No hiding. What is it?” He leans down, brushing his nose against yours. “You are my girl though, right?”
You glare up at him, but your heart is not cooperating.
“You just... never called me that before,” you say, quiet, soft enough that it barely survives the space between you.
Sirius exhales, and pulls you even closer, resting his chin lightly on top of your head.
“Well,” he says into your hair, “You should start getting used to it.”
You don’t even get a moment to tease him back before he’s wrapping his arms around you again, tugging you flush against his chest like holding you is as instinctive as breathing.
He rocks you gently side to side, his chin hooked over your shoulder, and you can feel the quiet grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he speaks.
“You’re so cute, y’know that?” he murmurs, voice low and warm, like he’s sharing a secret meant only for your ears.
He says it again, and again. Each repetition comes between a kiss to your cheek, his lips brushing against your skin with unbearable fondness, his long hair tickling across your jaw like satin.
“My girl,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss just below your cheekbone.
Another kiss, this time closer to the corner of your mouth. “My pretty girl.”
You giggle, trying and failing to turn your face away as warmth floods your cheeks. “Sirius, your hair’s tickling me—”
He just smiles into your skin, clearly unbothered. Another kiss, this one slower, more lingering, pressed just beneath your ear. “My favorite person.”
You squirm in his arms, laughing harder now, your hands curled into his shirt as you try to wriggle away, but he only holds you tighter.
“My most favourite girl.”
Each word hums against your skin like a spell.
And you, useless and smitten thing that you are, melt for him completely.
A quiet giggle escapes you, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you bury your face in his chest to hide the way your cheeks are burning.
You try to squirm away, overwhelmed and giddy, but his grip tightens gently and he tilts your chin up with two fingers, catching your gaze with a look so full of open affection it robs the breath from your lungs.
He holds your face like it’s something precious, like he’s afraid to let it go. His thumb brushes just beneath your cheekbone, featherlight and impossibly gentle, and then he says—quietly, sincerely—
“Can I get a kiss?”
The way he looks at you in that moment, like you’re his whole damn universe, is almost too much.
His long black hair falls into his eyes, the ends brushing his cheekbones, his mouth barely parted.
His eyes are shining, glassy with something deeper than a smile, and he’s smiling anyway, soft and crooked like the words he wants to say are too big to fit in his throat.
There’s a trembling silence where you don’t know how to speak.
Because this is the part no one sees.
This is Sirius Black in love. Not loud, not cocky, not showy or flirtatious. But bare, unshielded, and tender to the point of devastation.
And somehow, it still surprises you—how much he feels.
Because he plays it smooth, always, with his smirks and his swagger and his stupidly charming quips.
But deep down, Sirius is just as flustered to be around you as you are around him. Maybe even more.
He still hasn’t gotten used to saying your name out loud without his heart stammering. Still can’t look at you some days without wondering if you’re a dream made flesh. Still marvels at the fact that when you walk into a room, you’re walking toward him.
He calls you his girl like it’s nothing. But to him, it means everything.
Because you’re not just his girl. You’re his world.
You lean up slowly, your hands resting against his chest like he might vanish if you touch him too fast. Then you press your lips to his, soft and sweet.
He smiles against your mouth before pulling back slightly, his eyes still closed, like he’s trying to savor the moment just a little longer. A beat passes. Then—
“Can I get another one?” he whispers, one eyebrow lifting, that same mischievous edge bleeding back into his voice.
You blink at him. “You’re so—”
But you don’t get to finish.
Because he kisses you again—harder this time. His hand cups the back of your neck, his other arm firm around your waist, pulling you in like he’s afraid the world might steal you away if he lets go.
And when he kisses you like that—like you’re his first and last prayer—there’s no doubt left.
Sirius Black is utterly, hopelessly, and beautifully in love with you.
And even if you don’t quite realize it yet — he’s been yours all along.
His lips are still brushing against yours when he pulls back the slightest inch, gaze hazy and wonderstruck, as though he’s only just now realizing that you’re real.
His thumb is tracing absent shapes at your waist, his breath slow and uneven like he’s trying to memorize the curve of your mouth by air alone.
His eyes, dark and warm and barely blinking, drink you in like he’s never seen anything so beautiful. Like he doesn’t want to miss a single second of whatever this is.
And then, of course, he leans in again for a third kiss.
You stop him with a hand on his chest and a breathless little laugh. “Sirius,” you whisper, dragging out the syllables. “You can’t keep kissing me, we have a whole day ahead of us, and we’re still in the bloody hallway.”
He leans his forehead against yours with a groan, dramatic and wounded, as if you’ve just denied him water in a desert.
“But I thought you were my girl,” he says, pout in full effect, lips parted and brow creased with the exaggerated tragedy of it all.
“My girl doesn’t let me kiss her as much as I want? This is unfair.”
You burst out laughing, fully this time, and the sound of it sends a visible shiver through him.
He never gets tired of hearing it, probably never will.
“Come on, Black,” you tease, grabbing his hand and turning on your heel to pull him down the corridor behind you, your fingers threading easily through his.
“I need someone to help me carry the books I ordered.”
At that, Sirius lights up like someone’s handed him a trophy. “Books?” he says, perking up.
“You ordered books and didn’t tell me? That’s a violation of trust. But don’t worry, love—I’ll carry them, all of them. You won’t lift a single bloody finger.”
You glance back at him with a smirk. “Wow, look at you,” you tease, eyebrows raised.
“All manly now, huh? Sirius Black, the knight in shining armor, savior of poor girls with heavy textbooks.”
“I am manly,” he insists, puffing his chest out like an idiot and giving your joined hands a little swing. “And chivalrous and noble and handsome and criminally underappreciated and—.”
You snort. “Okay, I get it!”
But just as you’re rounding the next corridor, Sirius glances down and suddenly stops short, yanking you to a halt beside him.
“Wait—you’re carrying your bag?”
You blink, confused. “Um... yes?”
He gasps so dramatically you’re worried for a moment he might start clutching his chest.
“What a horrible boyfriend I am,” he cries.
“Carrying nothing. Letting my girl do the heavy lifting like some kind of untrained baboon.”
You laugh again, shaking your head as he makes a scene of freeing your bag from your shoulder.
“Give me that. No, seriously, give it. I was raised better than this. Even my horrible, bloody mother would’ve scolded me for letting you carry your own things.” – He takes the bag from you with exaggerated care, slinging it over his shoulder – “Granted, she’d probably scold me just for being in public with you, but the point stands.”
You giggle again, unable to stop smiling, as he then reaches for your hand once more, the two of you falling into step like you were made to.
Your hands swing gently between you, fingers warm and safe in his.
And from that moment on, he never stopped.
Sirius Black referred to you as his girl in every corner of the castle, whether you were there to hear it or not.
He’d say it proudly, like the words alone lit something inside him.
And when you weren’t around, you’d better believe he was still talking, still rambling, and surely still flustered.
Cheeks tinted a soft, unmistakable pink, he'd go on and on to anyone who’d listen—usually James—about how smart you were, how good you smelled, how pretty you looked with your nose buried in a book or your hair tied back or when you laughed with your whole body like you did when he tickled your sides.
James, for his part, teased him relentlessly. But Sirius didn’t mind. Not even a little.
You were his girl after all, and he wanted the whole world to know it.
Setting: Supernatural, Season 2 (set shortly after “Born Under a Bad Sign”)
Tones: ☑ Fluff ☑ Domestic Love (as domestic as hunters get) ☑ Pre-established Relationship ☑ Found Family Vibes ☑ Lovesick!Dean who tries so hard to be cool ☑ Reader overhears how gone he is for her and melts
Synopsis:
⸻
When Dean brings Y/N to the Roadhouse for the first time, it’s just supposed to be a pitstop. A beer, a burger, maybe a tip on the next hunt. But Ellen’s no fool, and Ash doesn’t miss much either—and neither of them can help but notice the way Dean’s entire world shifts a little when Y/N walks in the room. He’s trying to be cool. Chill. The guy. But when the woman you love knows how to stitch a wound, kill a wendigo, and laugh at your worst jokes? Well, you’re gonna talk about her. A lot. Y/N overhears every soft confession, every bashful brag. And when Dean finds out? Let’s just say… the flustered hunter is real.
⸻
“Ain’t Nothing Subtle ‘Bout the Way He Loves Her”
The sun was dying slow and gold behind the Colorado hills when the Impala pulled up outside the Roadhouse. Dust rose soft around her tires like the place itself was exhaling—welcoming, wary, watching. It was the kind of spot that made your boots feel heavier and your shoulders feel lighter, if you knew what to do with a whiskey and had something worth bleeding for.
Dean popped the driver’s door, stepping out with his usual lean-and-stretch maneuver. The leather jacket creaked, the air smelled like beer, old pine, and maybe a dash of demon stink from some nearby town they’d just cleared out. But for once, his muscles weren’t tight with mission or guilt. Instead, his eyes flicked to the passenger door where she sat, legs tucked under her, hair wild from the wind.
“Y’ready for the madness?” he grinned, cocking a brow.
Y/N stepped out, slamming the heavy door closed behind her. “Please. I’ve seen you try to eat gas station sushi. I think I can handle your friends.”
Dean laughed—full and unguarded, the kind of laugh that made him look five years younger and a little more like the boy his mom remembered.
Inside, the Roadhouse was alive with the usual hum. Darts clinked. Glasses thudded. Ash’s ridiculous hair bobbed behind the bar as he scrolled something on his ancient laptop. Ellen looked up from a rag she was wringing out, sharp eyes landing on Dean. Then on the woman walking in beside him.
And like a switch flipped, her entire face changed.
“Well I’ll be damned,” Ellen said, a grin crawling slow across her face. “Dean Winchester, bringing a date into my bar?”
Dean instantly stiffened. “She’s not a date, she’s—”
Y/N was already giggling. “Don’t worry, Ellen. I know how hopeless he is with labels.”
That got a laugh from Jo, who popped out from the back room like she’d been waiting for the curtain to rise. “He’s definitely hopeless, alright.”
Dean groaned. “Great. A tag team.”
But Ellen wasn’t done. She came around the bar and sized Y/N up like a general inspecting a new recruit. Her eyes were sharp, measuring—but kind beneath it all. “You hunt?”
Y/N nodded. “My dad started me off with salt rounds and silver before I was potty trained.”
That got Ellen’s respect. She reached out to shake her hand.
Dean, behind them, tried so hard to play it cool. Just nods, casual, stoic. But his eyes betrayed him. Every second, he was checking Y/N’s face. Watching her reaction. Smiling like he’d swallowed the goddamn sun.
And Ellen saw it. Oh, she saw it.
⸻
An hour in and Dean had loosened up. The gang had made room at their usual table, drinks flowing, stories flying. Jo was trying to one-up Y/N with old salt-burn tales. Ash was explaining the finer points of demon detection with his “genius-level IQ,” which basically meant “I drink beer and hack things.”
And Dean?
Dean was floating. One arm over the back of Y/N’s chair, one leg half tangled with hers. He wasn’t even subtle. Whenever she laughed at something Jo said, he grinned like he’d won a war. Every time she reached for her beer, he was already sliding it closer.
Ellen stood at the bar, arms folded, watching the whole damn thing like it was a soap opera.
“You ever seen him like this?” she asked quietly to Ash.
Ash didn’t even look up from his screen. “Never. Dude’s whipped.”
⸻
Later, Y/N excused herself to the bathroom, and Dean got up to grab her another drink—leaving her jacket slung over the chair.
That’s when Ellen made her move.
“You got it bad,” she said, flat-out, wiping down the bar in slow circles.
Dean raised a brow. “What?”
She stared him down like a seasoned gunslinger. “Don’t play dumb, sweetheart. You’ve been grinning like an idiot all night. The only time you looked away from her was when you were blinking.”
Dean scoffed, scratched the back of his neck. “She’s cool. That’s all.”
Ellen leaned in. “You called her your girl three times already. And just now? You ordered her drink before she even asked. You don’t do that unless you’ve memorized someone’s whole damn soul.”
Dean blushed.
Actually blushed.
“Oh, man,” Ash mumbled from the end of the bar. “It’s terminal.”
Dean shot him a look. “Bite me.”
But Ellen smiled—soft now, not teasing. Just… knowing.
“She makes you happy, doesn’t she?” she asked.
Dean looked down at the bar top, swirling the condensation off his beer bottle with one finger.
“Yeah,” he said. “She does.”
And like some cheesy fate-orchestrated moment from a movie?
Y/N had walked up just in time to hear that.
⸻
He didn’t notice right away.
Not until she kissed his cheek when he handed her the beer, still warm from the bottle but even warmer from her lips.
He blinked. “What was that for?”
Y/N just smiled, coy. “Just… felt like it.”
Dean narrowed his eyes. “What’d I miss?”
Ellen chuckled under her breath.
Y/N leaned closer, her voice low and honey-smooth: “Nothing, baby. Just glad to be here.”
⸻
Outside, later that night, Dean had her pressed against the Impala, arms on either side, breath puffing warm in the chill.
“You heard me, didn’t you?” he muttered.
Y/N tilted her head. “Heard what?”
Dean groaned. “You know what.”
She laughed. “That you memorized my whole damn soul?”
Dean groaned louder, forehead thumping to her shoulder. “God, kill me now.”
But she pulled him in tighter, fingers sliding into the back of his hair.
“Not a chance,” she whispered. “I kinda like lovesick Dean.”
Dean grumbled against her neck. “I’m not lovesick.”
“Mm-hmm,” she teased. “Tell that to the three different people you told I’m the best shot you’ve ever seen."
“I stand by that.”
“And that I make better pie than you.”
“Lies. Slander. I was drunk.”
“And that you’d give up the Impala if it meant keeping me safe.” Dean stilled. Pulled back, looked into her eyes.
“I meant that one,” he said, voice low.
Her breath caught. “Dean…”
He leaned in. Kissed her soft. Then whispered against her lips, “Ain’t nothing subtle about the way I love you, sweetheart.”
⸻
Author’s Note:
Thank you for reading, you sinfully sweet sugar demons! If you ever wondered what it would look like if Dean tried not to be totally whipped in public and failed? This is it. Thank you for loving these soft moments with me, for believing in the kind of peace a hunter might dare to touch. Until next time, keep the pie warm and the Impala fuelled.
i don’t care if you’re sick, i don’t care if you’re contagious.
𖥔 summary since befriending tim drake you have known exactly how he feels about his brothers: offlimits, forbidden, do not enter! this was never too difficult to maintain, never too hard to turn away when one smiles a little too bright, yet when sweet and sultry jason walks into the room it become harder to turn the other cheek.
𖥔 pairing jason todd x reader
𖥔 genre/tw best friends brother au!! fem!reader !! reader is tim’s bff, fluff! angst?! probably suggestive at times i can’t lie, intoxication, swearing !! jason is a softie, none of that charmer fuck boy jason here!! petnames, kissing, reader and jason are real yearners !! reader and tim are supposed to be like 21-22 which puts Jason at like 25-26 or so (in my mind) batfam mentions and cameos! we love!! librarian!jason !! historian!reader !! tim and reader are platonic soulmates <3 also tim calls reader chicken, idk why!! also thers gonna be typos and run on sentences probably (i blacked out)
𖥔 w/c 8.3k and some change
𖥔 a/n this came to me in a dream… idk i just feel like tim has such strong protective girl bestie vibes so this is what happened. i love tim and reader and reader and jason and i really hope you do too!! lemme know xoxo
masterlist | requests open!!
Since the moment you became friends with Tim Drake, you understood his brothers were completely off limits. It was apparent in how he would go out of his way to not mention them by name—only my brother this or my brothers that—it was in the look of pure disgust when someone would bring up just how hot his oldest brother was when he showed up on the news: alerting the public not to be worried about some crime in Blüdhaven. Even you, his best friend since the trauma of Philosophy 204 bonded you together, were not allowed to ask about them without a deadly glare shooting your way.
You understood, if you had a famous family full of wealthy handsome boys, you too would want to keep them aware from your friends. You shudder at the thought of some girl asking if your brother was single, thus whenever Tim gives you attitude about it, you allow yourself to laugh it off. It wasn’t until the summer between Freshman and Sophomore year that you were even allowed near Wayne Manor, and into the lives of his illustrious family.
Now, five years into your friendship, you could say that you’ve fit yourself into Tim’s life quite nicely. Being his favorite lady, you’re often his date to galas and Sunday brunches with the wives of Wayne Enterprises, The person who comes along when Bruce says “you can bring a friend”, and most special, who he turns to when one of his brothers annoys him. Like now,
“I just don’t know why I’m suddenly Damian’s chauffeur," Tim says, a familiar annoyance seeping from his voice. “Like, my father has billions of dollars yet I have to be the one to drive my little brother around, come on.”
You laugh, but the easy way in which he talks about his family’s wealth brings a bad taste to your mouth… You, a girl born and raised in the lower sector of Gotham, find it quite gross how easy your friend throws his money around sometimes, which you remind him with a swat on the back of his head. “Hey! what the fuck was that for?” He exclaims with a laugh.
“Timothy, you know better than to be all waspy when I’m around…” you sigh, “and anyway, it’s not like Damian goes anywhere but the library and the planetarium… he's just a kid.”
“A kid who threatens to poison me if I don’t buy him bug juice—which I gotta say he is getting too old for.”
“Ahh, Timmy, are you just sad about your baby brother growing up?” You say, pouting your lips in the exact way you know annoys him.
You’ve always thought it’s funny how annoyed Tim gets about Damian, a boy who’s only ever sweet to you—asking you about your favorite animals and telling you about the new exhibits at Gotham’s Natural History Museum. “I don’t get why it's so terrible, Dami’s just a sweetheart,”
“Ugh, maybe to you,” Tim replies, “he just thinks you’re cool cause you work at the Historical Society and you make fun of me,”
“Well, there’s a lot to make fun of.”
“Ha.Ha. Real funny guess who's uninvited to Dick’s birthday party.” With this, you pause. It’s true that most of the parties surrounding Tim’s family are unnecessarily boring and involve fitting into a tight dress and making your hair look presentable. There’s been quite a few times when you’ve wished that Tim would go with someone else and gift you the reprieve from a drawn out conversation with a doctor or a politician, (or whoever else Mr. Wayne invites to drum up philanthropy). However, you look forward to Dick’s birthday every year; a night filled with laughter and sweet drinks, getting to see Dick and his girlfriend Kory get a little too drunk and attempt to do gymnastics on the club’s dancefloor… Even better, it’s the one chance you really get to see Jason, Tim’s older and outcasted brother..
You remember the first time you met him, a Friday dinner you accompanied Tim to… It was the one night a week Alfred was free from dinner duty, thus the two of you had brought chinese and gelato for dessert and Damian kept pestering you about bringing him to the Zoo to see the snakes.
You had already met everyone else, Dick with his charming smile and the spark in his eyes when he pulled your chair out (you’re sure it had more to do with annoying his brother than being a gentleman,) You’d met Duke when he followed his brother into university becoming a welcome third to your little group, and his father–Initmaditing and encompassing Bruce Wayne, but you’d never met Jason.
You’d heard about him, heard the sighs from his father when he noticed his second son hadn’t shown up… Watched the careful way he was spoken about by his family, in past tenses and thinly veiled sadness. Tim had rarely brought him up to you, barely mentioning how there was some sort of accident, how it destroyed their father and separated Jason from himself and his family.
You never liked seeing your best friend sad, it hurt too much to see his blue eyes gloss over, so you never brought him up, yet you couldn’t lie and say you weren’t curious. You remember seeing it on the news, the day that Jason Todd went missing… It wasn’t surprising to hear about a missing boy–living in Gotham meant a new tragedy every day–yet, you remember being shocked that something would happen to that bright young boy, grinning ear to ear in the school picture the news showed.
You were only twelve, but you can think back and see so vividly the magic behind that smile, and how sad you were to realize that this boy, who could have very well gone to school with your sister, was gone… How sad he must be, you remember thinking, to be without his family.
He was quite the mystery to you, more so after becoming friends with Tim, his brother who would so rarely mention him. It was when you saw him slouching at the dinner table and arguing with Dick, that your curiosity came back, you couldn’t believe it–he was so handsome, prettier than the newspaper made him look, and so tall, but you remembered Tim… Remembered how upset he got when Hannah Beauchamp asked him for his brother’s telephone number, so all you did was smile and say hello.
After that you saw Jason more often, always quiet, always bright, but it was still glaringly rare… You never knew when he’d be there, unlike Dick who is unquestionable in his loyalty to family functions, Jason could be everywhere and nowhere all at once. Thus, the only surefire way to see him, is to go to Dick’s birthday, a gathering that Jason always appears at, showing his rare smile and a rare wish to his big brother.
You can’t be uninvited, you really can’t be…
“Timmy, you know I love you,” you say, giggling at the way his nose scrunches, “Please let me go with you to Dick’s party? Please please please!! I didn’t mean it, it’s so hard to make fun of you!”
You know you’ve won when his head tilts, nose sticking straight up like an aristocrat in a children’s novel, you know you’ve won because he sighs into a sweet smile–bringing his hand up to muss your hair.
“You know I can’t go anywhere without you, Chicken.” At his words you unceremoniously jump at him, encircling him into your grasp and squealing out ‘thank you’s.’ “But,” you groan. “You have to come with me tonight… If I have to hear Damian go on and on about Casseiopeia, you do too.”
⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄
The party was in full force when you arrived, music blaring, couples kissing, the whole nine; It smelled like sweat and tequila, and fancy perfume, and you wished you could feel this way more often.
Tim doesn’t like going out, doesn’t feel safe bringing you out into the Gotham nightlife–your best friend, sweet and loyal and protective, over his family, over you… You know he’s just looking out for you, but the frustrated sighs and the “that place isn’t safe for a little Chicken like you,” get exhausting. He gets frustrated when you go out by yourself, insistent that your group of girls would be much safer if you guys partied at home, yet he never seems to have a problem if his brothers are there too… more eyes on you, he says when you ask.
Still, you wouldn’t trade him for the world–how lucky were you, that your best friend cared so much…
He had gasped when he picked you up, a caricature of your sisters and girlfriends: he squealed and told you he loved your dress, (as if he wasn’t the one who paid for it), a routine that was familiar and warm. He’d driven you both himself, complaining about traffic and assholes who don’t use their blinker, he was telling you about his day and the “insolent” acts Damian committed at school. It was rather nice, just you and Tim listening to shitty pop-punk and laughing, a familiar scene that’s gotten rarer and rarer as his responsibilities have piled on.
He had squeezed your hand before getting out of the car, smiling at you with earnest eyes and a mischievous grin, and told you: “If Dick’s friend Wally hits on you, tell him I still have the pictures from last summer.”
You were a ball of nerves in the elevator, stomach dropping as it went up, up, up to the Penthouse, shying away from the stares and whispers that follow Tim around. But now, encased in house music and the saccharine smell of young lust and birthday magic, your anxiety eases and the smile you send your best friend’s way is finally sincere.
He takes your hand to lead you through the erratic rhythm of dancing bodies, sending dirty looks to men who look at you too long, leading you through the suite like he’s Orpheus on a mission. He doesn’t turn back to smile at you until you’ve reached your destination, the large rooftop patio where the pool lives, here you find Dick–front flipping into the pool fully clothed. His form is perfect, spinning into the water with a ballerina like elegance, a visage so striking against the electronica pumping through the night.
He comes up for air with far less grace, however, shaking his hair out like a dog and yelling at Kory to join him. When he sees his little brother, his face breaks into the most earth-shattering smile, before he breaks into senseless giggles–telling everyone, “You guys! My baby brother Timmy is here!”
Tim, a boy who loves his brothers more than anyone except maybe you, grins at the older boy's voice–pulling you along to greet him properly.
“Happy birthday, Dick!” You tell him, voice raising to be heard over the music and the squealing euphoria of his guests.
“Oh my! Timmy’s little Chicken is here!” Dick’s fondness for you is no surprise, as a professional older brother it is his job to love everyone his siblings love. “Jason! Look who's here!”
It's almost comical how fast you look up, how curious you are to see him, so curious you don’t hear Tim’s sigh or the way his hold on your arm tightens. Like Magic, Jason stands in front of you, leaning against a wall like a poor parody of James Dean. He looks a bit put out, a little annoyed to be interrupted in what looks like a riveting conversation with Roy Harper– a man you’ve only ever met through Tim’s phone on nights when he goes out without you.
“Hey guys,” He says, friendly enough yet you can’t help but notice how much tenser he looks now that Tim stands before him. “Timmy, I heard you’re taking up more and more roles at Dad’s,” he sounds strained, but it’s obvious that he’s trying.
“Yeah, our little baby brother is awesome, Bird, but let’s not forget it’s my turn to receive your compliments.” Dick exclaims, panting a bit from treading water.
“Yeah, yeah, Dickie, you just gotta wait for it, man.” Jason says, before turning back to Roy, you know at once that their exchange is over, you’re not sure what happened… It seems almost like Tim and Jason fought, niceties were exchanged, yes, but the look in their eyes: exhausted and awkward, says more than the short conversation they shared.
They get like this sometimes, a phenomenon you don’t quite understand… You’ve witnessed moments where they seem like best friends, joking and joining together in teasing Damian, yet there's other times… Moments like this, when it seems like there's years of separation and frustration between them.
You can feel Tim pulling you away, his hold on your hand a little tighter than you would like it to be… You can hear Dick yelling at him to stay, ‘the waters nice and warm,’ he yells, yet it's obvious he’s not too worried about it once Kory swims over to him. More than anything you can see Jason, nodding at you from his place against the wall–his drink tipping your way as if to say goodbye.
You’re still a little confused when Tim drags you back into the suite to dance, finding Conner and Stephanie along the way. The four of you twirl and laugh and drink, the boys spinning you and Steph around and around–passing the two you back and forth until you're dizzy and drunk. Tim’s hands steady you, leading you in a crazy dance the two of you made up junior year, and grinning when you drunkenly tell him you love him. The night is alive, it’s burning with winter yearning and the feeling that you’d never be this young again. How you love your friends, how you wonder what's ailing them.
⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄
The music is thunderous, eating away at your ear drums and seeping into your bones until your body sings along. You’re not sure what time it is any more, or where Tim went… Your last memory is Conner giving you his jacket before pulling your friend away, a sight that made you giggle and roll your eyes. Steph’s seemed to disappear too, leaving you all alone on the dance floor, swaying in time with the music and whispering jokes to nobody.
The crowd seems to have gotten bigger and the drinks stronger, a revelation that sends you in search of Tim or Dick, or someone you know. Yet, you can’t find them anywhere, off with Conner and Kory surely, abandoning you with only vodka and an empty chip bowl to keep you company. The party seems lonelier now, the music dull and throbbing in your ears, and all the dancing seems out of rhythm. It’s almost like you’ve stepped out of the faery ring, released yourself from an enchantment, and now everything that was once magic is all wrong.
That things happening, that thing where you begin to have nostalgia for the moment you’re in, a kind of bittersweetness veiling over your eyelids as you take in the dark room. This happens sometimes, where you get a sudden case of the blues–too much adrenaline, too much happiness for one person, so it comes out as sad. It doesn’t help that you’re all alone, that Tim left you to go kiss Conner and you don’t really know anyone else, not truly–not the way you need to know them for a moment like this.
You find yourself on the stairs, leaning against the railing as you attempt to regain your balance. The world seems to be spinning, whether it's from the alcohol or all the dancing you’re unsure of, yet the sky seems to be under your feet. You wished Tim was here… he always knew what to do, always knew how to make you laugh when you’re sad and get you home without a scratch… Stupid Conner, you think, stealing your best friend from you when you need him most… typical.
It's minutes later that you feel someone nudging you awake, shaking you from your place on the stairs. The person's hands are rough and warm and gentle, easing you back into consciousness, accompanied by whispers of “come on, little one.”
You don’t feel very good, the alcohol and the sadness filling your throat with the taste of vomit, yet you find it in yourself to look up. Light invades your senses and that same blaring electronica finds a home in your ears again, a repeated refrain of call on me beating into your bones. You find the eyes of the intruder, green like summer; they’re looking down at you in concern, all squinty like a crescent moon. It's not until the song changes that you realize it’s Jason looking at you, your mystery come to find you.
“Jason?” you ask, your voice covered in sleep and intoxication. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing, Where’s Timmy?”
“Off with Conner.” You harrumph, sneering at his name as if they aren’t two of your most treasured friends.
“And he left you all alone?” He looks a little surprised by this, and a little upset, a combination that will surely keep you up thinking about what it means.
“Yeah, can you believe that?! He’s a treacherous traitor who betrayed me.”
“You know, I’m pretty sure all those things mean the same thing.” He laughs a little, and you wish you were sober just so you could really hear him, the fear you feel that you might not remember this fills you with dread. It's so rare that you get to see him, so rare that you get to talk to him without Tim around to make things different and tense… your crush on Jason is not so hidden, a truth that eats at you in moments like this. You’re sure they probably all know, can all see how flustered you get around him, but you’d never act on it–you’d never do anything to hurt Tim, (that includes kissing his brothers), thus you pretend like it doesn’t affect you as much as it does. But here now, with Jason sitting next to you on the stairs, sharing space and oxygen and more words than you’ve ever spoken to each other before, you feel it becoming harder and harder to pretend.
“Why are you sitting with me, Jason?” You ask him.
‘What?” He replies, eyes wide in shock or maybe confusion. “You’re my little brother’s best friend and you’re asleep on the stairs, why wouldn’t I be sitting with you.” His voice is pure Gotham, it brings a smile to your lips.
“I see, is it just because I’m Timmy’s best friend.”
“Are you flirting with me, Casanova?” he laughs, bringing a bottle of water up to his lips.
“Never ever, Mr. Todd, I swear it, cross my heart.” You can see how he’s smiling, goofier than you’ve ever seen it, less sculpted than the usual smirky grin he wears around his brothers.
“You’re drunk.” He says, before handing you his bottle of water, “Drink.” He says it like a command, like something you couldn’t say no to even if you tried, so you listen, yet you can’t stop thinking about his lips around it just a few seconds before. It invades your senses– the image of his rosebud lips curling around the top like a kiss… What is a kiss if not two mouths touching? What is a kiss without a kiss? Shared saliva and phantom smiles pressing against your own?
One of his large hands goes to the bottom of the plastic bottle–tipping it up further as if to get you to drink more, his eyes swallow you, commanding eye contact as the water tumbles down your throat. “That’s a good girl.” He tells you, voice low and pleasing. It’s only when the bottle is empty that he takes his hand away, lowering the bottle from your lips and looking back into the humid party.
How handsome he is, you think, it’s obvious he dressed up a little more for this than when you usually see him. He’s in all black, slacks and t-shirt displaying some 90s anime, he even has jewelry on: silver rings and heavy chains around his neck… He looks ravishing, like someone should take him home before other people can perceive him. You remember that first time you saw him, that fifteen year old boy on the news who looked like Peter Pan; you remember how you felt when you read that he was missing, if only you could have told yourself you would have found him one day.
“Jason?” You whisper, “Where did you go?” He’s surprised at the question, that much is obvious, but he doesn’t seem mad, more tired; exhausted by the memory.
“Neverland.” He whispers back, a response that brings a smile to your lips even though it’s not an answer.
“What was it like?”
“Hmm,” he says, thinking about his answer. “Well, it was pretty, there were pirates and mermaids, and little fairy girls like you.” That makes you laugh, a big booming thing that escapes.
“I’m a little fairy girl, now?”
“Oh yeah, I saw you spinning earlier… round and round like you were trying to fly.”
“Well, I’m all out of pixie dust.” You tell him, which brings that goofy smile back to his pretty face.
He doesn’t say anything else, just sits quietly with you, humming songs he knows and snorting at the drunken antics of Dick’s guests. It’s nice, just sitting with him–there is no need to fill the space, just peace and quiet. Finally, when you’re feeling sober enough to be a little worried by his answer, you ask, “Why’d you leave? I mean what made you come home?”
It takes him a moment to answer, but when he does it’s full of secrets and saved up sadness, his voice gruff with the memory of it. “I just had to grow up I guess.”
⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄
Days later you’re still thinking about that conversation on the stairs, how sad he looked… how vulnerable and young he appeared. When Tim finally showed himself, he was shocked to find you with his brother, thanking him over and over again for keeping you company. You remember how Jason smiled, sweet and sleepy, before he said No problem, Timmy, you just get her home safe. It’s less of a memory and more of a dream, like you went off to Neverland too.
It was difficult to find sleep that night, too shaken and embarrassed by your own behavior… Nerves ate at your brain every time you thought about how natural it was to talk to him, nerves that only got worse when you wake up to a text from an unknown number:
‘Hey, fairy girl, it’s J. just want to make sure you got back alright’
It filled you with heat and parasitic flutters in your belly, but you couldn’t answer… couldn’t get over the guilt you felt when imagining Tim’s reaction, no matter how innocent it all was. So you left it alone, didn’t answer him and went on with your day as normal as you could make it: lunches with Tim and group chat gossip with Duke and Stephanie, anything that could distract you from the fire blazing in your veins.
You were still a little cross with Tim for leaving you all alone, but after making him take you out to breakfast and promise to buy you whatever you wanted for the next week, you thought you’d cut him some slack. He was acting a little weird, he kept making that face that only conjures itself when he’s trying to figure something out, and he repeatedly asked you if Jason said anything interesting to you– a question that has you shaking your head every time.
His words were just for you, you knew that more than you knew anything, so even though it was unfamiliar, you kept it from your best friend.
It’s been a week since that fateful night, a week full of sleeplessness and butterflies when you thought about his bright eyes and warm hands. You’ve always had a bit of a crush, but now it's stifling–incinerating you with the absolute truth of it. Even here at work it suffocates you, presses down in between the dark archives of old newspapers and preserved textiles. It's just another day of paperwork and organization, studying old books on Cherry Hill in hopes to find something that could help stop the impending gentrification.
Tim’s on his way with lunch, something Alfred cooked up to be sure, an exciting but slightly unnerving prospect. You’ve never been afraid of your best friend before, but you’ve also never kept a secret from him… you know it's not a big deal, so what if you and Jason had a sleepy drunken conversation at Dick’s birthday party? It wasn’t like you kissed! Hell, his hands barely even touched your skin except to wake you up, yet the fear of hurting Tim is so massive and encompassing you can’t help but feel like you need to hide it.
You hear him say hello to your coworkers, hear his graceful steps down into the basement, he takes the stairs two at a time. When he finally arrives in front of you, he is jovial–smiling wider than you’ve seen in awhile. He dawdles on, handing you your lunch and telling you about how Alfred made twice the amount so all his kids could have some. It’s nice to hear him speak about his family, you relish in it… how happy he sounds when he speaks of his brothers, Alfred and Stephanie, the smile in his voice when he tells you you’re invited to another Friday Dinner.
“Barbara and Kory are coming too, you’ll be there, yeah?”
“Yeah, Definitely,” You tell him, but your heart isn’t in it. Tim notices it, of course he does, but he doesn’t call it out. You’ve been acting strange lately, but he trusts that you’d come to him if you really needed help. He stays until you both finish your lunch, kissing you on the head before he heads back towards the WE building; the guilt creeps back in when he leaves, roots of shaming entangling you like vipers.
This routine follows you into the week, Tim bringing lunch and stories of Conner and Duke and the mischief they’ve gotten themselves into. Your work kept you busy, working late into the night– the book you found on the Founding of Gotham was interesting, and it was proving to be rather helpful in proving your suspicions that the original City Hall was located in the Cherry Hill suburb of Gotham City. You hoped you’d be able to find all the sources you needed, but it was becoming a bigger and bigger project than you ever realized–a project that was impeding on your life.
It was late into the afternoon when Jason came to see you, bringing with him a smile and something hidden in his book bag.
“Knock-knock, Little fairy, can I come in?” He asks you, halting on the last step. It's dark down here, lit only with lamps and reading lights, still he is beautiful–the white streak in his hair curling down over his eyes. He looks rather comfy, wrapped up in a sweater and a leather jacket, his book bag crossing over his chest and falling around his hip. God, he’s lovely, and he’s here… Why is he here?
“What are you doing here?” You ask, startled by his presence and the life it brings.
“I wanted to bring you some flowers,” He tells you, a secret smile playing on his lips. You look at his empty hands, a confused grin finding its way to your face.
“Where are the flowers, Jason?” You laugh, although it halts when that goofy grin emerges again. Looking at you slyly he takes something out from his bag, pulling out a stack of books and handing them to you. Still confused you shuffle the pile to read each title,
Dandelion Wine, White Oleander, The Chrysanthemums, Daisy Miller, The Secret Garden…
Oh dear, you think, how sweet is this boy? And why? After you’d ignored his message…
“Flowers,” he says, tilting his head towards you, that charming smile still living on his face.
Who is this wonderful, handsome boy? When his brothers speak of him, they describe him as gruff and unlikable–mean and sulky. Yet this Jason is bright and euphoric, sweet and happy and mischievous…
He brought you flowers… flowers that you could keep on your shelf forever; stories of life and sadness and magic.
“Oh my,” you say, “Thank you, Jason.”
“Of course, I wanted to make sure you were okay…” He hesitates for a minute before continuing on, “Y’know, you never answered my text and I thought maybe Dickie gave me the wrong number.”
“Oh, no it was the right number,” you sigh. “I just don’t want Tim to feel weird about the two of us becoming friends…”
“Are we becoming friends then,” he asks you, eyes brighter than before. He looks so young like this, starry eyed and grinning like he won a blue ribbon.
“I don’t know, Jason, are we?”
“I’m inclined to say yes, fairy girl. I don’t steal books from the library for just anyone.”
Shocked, you turn the books over and sure enough, the library's barcode sits against the hardcover.
“Jason! What the hell?! You can’t just steal from the library!” You yell, yet all he does is laugh. It’s such a pretty sound, deep and melodious like a song you can’t forget the words to. You wonder how often he really laughs like this, true and belly-full, like he means it.
“I work at the library, Sugar, don’t worry.” He rasps out, “I’m the person who has to buy the new books anyway… so don’t worry about it.” The pet name rolls off his tongue salaciously, finding its way into your tummy, filling you with warmth and a vision of him at Gotham City Public Library. You’re not sure how you never knew, how you never saw him there in your late night book runs for your work. It fills you with fondness and makes your smile somehow brighter than it already was.
“Well, thank you anyway, J.” You tell him. “Really, no one's ever given me flowers before.”
When his eyes meet yours the floor shakes beneath you, destabilizing you into nervous fidgeting and shy smiles. You can’t believe this is happening, can’t believe your mystery is standing in front you–vulnerable and handsome and smiling. He brought you flowers… God, what are you going to tell Tim?
You see he’s getting ready to leave, so you ask (quicker than you thought possible,) “Do you wanna stay for a while? I’m just reading through some sources, but it might be better with company?” The smile he gives you is serendipitous, magical and dreamlike.
He stays with you long into the night, reading all the left pages as you read the right and sharing his own suspicions. He mentions books at the library that might be useful, and tells you how cool he thinks what you’re doing is, he smiles the whole time. It's late when you finish, yawning and blinking away the strain, he looks more and more like that school picture you once fawned over– young and happy, Peter Pan.
He insists on walking you home, leading you through the still busy Gotham Streets with a hand grazing your back and a watchful eye on the city. Every once in a while he stops to make sure you’re going the right way, and to ask if you’re still alright, a question that brings a smile to your lips and goosebumps on your skin.
When you finally make it home, skin bitten cold and his jacket hanging off your shoulders, he smiles faintly at you, bringing his hand up to push a loose strand of hair back behind your ear.
As he turns to leave he tells you,
“Don’t forget to get those flowers in some water, see you Friday,” And with the way your heart stops, you know you’re doomed.
⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄
Tim Drake is lots of things, but a fool is not one of them. He sees how different Jason is acting during patrol: stumbling over ledges and pulling out the wrong gun. He’s been weird since Dick’s party, quicker to smile and more interested in you than ever before… he remembers seeing Jason try to covertly listen to the Comm when Dick asked Tim how you were,
“How’s Chicken Little doing, Timmy?”
But before he could answer, Damian swiftly responded:
“She doesn’t like it when you guys call her that, can’t you see her nose scrunch up in disgust? Honestly you’re all a bunch of buffoons.”
Tim, however offended he might be at Damian thinking he knows you better than him, couldn’t help but focus on Jason instead. His face might be covered by his mask, yet his body language is unmistakable–he’s more interested than he should be.
“Might I remind all of you, she is off limits, do not disturb, dead end… I will kill you and send your entrails to Lex Luthor to make some weird clone of you if you even think about it.” This message is for all of them, but you’d have to be stupid to not realize it was really only for Jason–Dick and Kory have been basically engaged since they were 20 and Damian still drinks bug juice for God’s Sake… the only other person it could be is Duke, but if the gagging sounds he’s making over the comm mean anything, he doesn’t need to be worried.
Nobody says anything for a second, laughter from Dick and Duke creeping in through his ear piece, yet it all stops when Jason speaks up for the first time that night.
“You know, you really should let her make her own decisions… She’s not a little girl.”
“What’s that supposed to mean, Hood?” Tim asks, getting actually truly angry for the first time. There’s a reason why he tried to keep you to himself in the beginning of your friendship, he knows you think it’s because he didn’t want you to date his brothers, but really he didn’t want to have to share another thing. So much of his life belongs to his family, he just wanted one thing to belong to him.
“Don’t get angry, please, Birdie?” Jason replies, there's no heat in it, just exhaustion.
“What. Do. You. Mean? Hood?” Tim says again, getting more and more frustrated by the minute.
“I just mean she’s a grown up, and she should be allowed to talk to whoever she wants to, even if it weirds you out.”
It strikes Tim as something that wouldn’t bother him if it was about anyone but you, if it was Steph or Bart or Cassie, it wouldn’t have mattered. But it is you, the first friend he’s had that's entirely his own–you’re his best friend in the entire world, the person he loves the most, and he doesn’t need anyone, especially not Jason Todd, telling him how he should act with you.
“Keep your advice to yourself, Red Hood,” Tim barks out to his brother, yet there's a piece of him that's thinking about what he said, a voice in the back of his head that tells him maybe he should listen.
⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄
When Tim calls you to tell you not to come to family dinner, you can’t help but be confused and a little hurt. Sure, he said he’d just come over to yours instead, but the thought that someone was upset with you, or worse that Tim used his brilliant brain to suss out your crush before you could tell him, and now he’d never let you back around his brothers again, whittled its way into your heart and wouldn’t let go.
You never wanted to do anything that would hurt Tim, he’s the person who you trust most in the world, the only person you could say confidently that you would kill or be killed for. You love him, infallibly and wholly, and thinking that he might be hurt by something you’ve done, even as innocent as a couple moonlit conversations with his brother, consumes you into a hellmouth of anxiety.
He arrives at seven, the time he said he’d pick you up for family night, but instead of meeting you at your door, he barrels in. There’s a wild look in his eyes, a look you’ve only seen once– when your Philosophy 204 professor fell over and began to aspirate through a seizure–it’s painful and worried, and you wonder what's making him so upset now. However, when you ask, all he does is shake his head, almost like he’s trying to shake out the worries, pound them out like water in your ears. He looks beyond you, into your kitchen and his sighs become heavier and more sporadic, did he run here?
“I’m trying to figure something out,” He tells you, his voice kinder than his body language made it seem like it would be, yet you’re not surprised–in the five years of being his friend, he’s never once raised his voice at you.
“Okay, what's up?” You ask, anxious.
“Are you and Jason in love? Are you having some sort of gross affair?”
“What?!” You exclaim, sure you have a crush on Jason, and yes you think it would be quite easy to fall in love with him, but come on… Two conversations and childhood crush don’t suddenly turn into an affair.
“Don’t “what” me, Chicken! I have Jason telling me to treat you like a grown up and now I walk in here and his jacket is hanging from my chair… MY CHAIR!” He says, shocking a laugh out of you, “The chair I sit in, god what has life come to?”
“Timmy, we’re not having an affair, he just walked me home after bringing me something at work.” You approach him like a snake tamer, slow and kind in your steps–the same steps you saw the zoo keeper take the last time you and Tim brought Damian to Gotham Zoo.
“But you like him?” He asks, suspicious and guarded. You can’t tell what’s happening in his head, can’t seem to read his mind like you usually can, so instead you let your hands fall onto his shoulders–fingers splaying out to run through the hair on his neck.
“Yes,” You say, quiet as a mouse. “Is that okay?”
Tim lets his head fall into your tummy, blowing out a big gasp of air into your shirt, which makes you laugh and push him away.
“Of course it’s okay, Chicken… I just want you to be happy.” He sighs, “I just don’t really know if you will be happy with him… my brother he’s,” He hesitates, thinks about how he should say this without ruining anything, before he continues: “Jay’s complicated, what happened fucked him up… really bad. And I love you, more than him, more than anyone–you’re my girl. I don’t want you to feel trapped in a bad situation, and feel like you can’t come to me cause he’s my brother… I’ll always be on your side.”
You smile and let out what feels like all the air in your lungs. How you love your stupid, silly, best friend, as if Jason would ever make you feel trapped and horrible when all he ever wants to do is be free?
“You don’t have to worry about me, Timmy, I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.” The nickname makes him smile, brings him back to college when all you guys would do was watch Chicken Little and drink bottled sweet tea, when you’d call him Timmy and beg him to let you prank call his dad. Yet, the sentiment makes him sad, how are you a big girl if you’re both still just kids? He doesn’t feel that grown up yet.
“That’s what he said you know,” He replies. “Just, why didn’t you tell me?” He’s watching you, looking at you in that way that makes you spill all your secrets, so you tell him,
“I didn’t want to upset anyone, and I don’t know if he even likes me back, so..”
“Are you crazy?! Of course he likes you, my brother hates literally every single person he interacts with other than Alfred, yet he’s coming to your work to surprise you? Come on.” He’s laughing though it sounds a little pained. It does little to comfort your swirling thoughts. You’re so happy Tim’s not angry, so happy that he’s not throwing you onto the curb like you expected, but he still seems so sad.
You wish you could swaddle him up and make everything okay, promise that you’d never stop being friends, make sure he knows that you’re not going away–that all of this is a little dramatic for a little crush.
“Are you okay, Timmy? With the chance that something might happen between me and Jason?”
“Yeah, Chickadee, just…” he sighs, “Don’t forget what I said, okay? About him being complicated.” You nod, but before you can say anything, he speaks up again. “And, Chicken? Remember our pact about getting married for taxes… it’s you and me spending our afterlives together, not you and Jason.”
⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄
You wake the next morning a bundle of limbs and sleepy energy, Tim is barely conscious next to you and the apartment smells faintly of cheetos and ramen; you’d spent the night watching Avatar: The Last Airbender and reminiscing about the good old days. You told him about everything that's happened with Jason, starting from that first sight of his missing poster and ending with the bouquet of books. He was obviously a little grossed out to be talking about his brother in this way, but it felt good to see you so giggly and happy.
He’d felt bad for making you skip out on family night, a feeling of guilt that shook in his bones as his father and eldest brother texted him about skivving out on family bonding. But, he wouldn’t go back to change it, he was so afraid he was going to lose you, that you’d get tired of him and make friends with other people, that having this night with you was well worth all the lectures he was going to have to put up with.
He’s watching you now, anxious and blushing, and he can’t help but feel in awe of you–his pretty best friend, really crushing on someone for the first time. Some part of him is glad that person is Jason, at least then he won’t feel too bad about breaking his nose if he starts any shit with you.
“Everythings gonna be okay,” He says, using your first name in a rare scene of seriousness.
“Yeah, I know.” You tell him. “I just, don’t wanna ruin anything.”
“You know, he’s working today… might wanna bring him some flowers.”
⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄
The library is alive, warm and inviting like a lover’s embrace. It smells like parchment and dust and clorox wipes, a combination that instantly brings you back to school–elementary crushes and schoolyard gossip.
There’s not very many people here, too early on a school day for anyone to really be finding solace between the aisles, but you see him. Jason sits behind the front desk, wiry glasses settled on his nose and a book in his lap. He hasn’t noticed you yet, too absorbed in his work to really be paying attention. For a minute, you just stand and admire him–this mysterious creature who walked into your life and never left. All these feelings are brand new and ancient… romantic and friendly, respect and admiration. It would all be so easy, with him–to lose yourself in love and friendship–you want it so badly.
You can see it so vividly, waking up with him and spending nights intertwined, reading together and researching maniacally. Falling for him is easy, loving him will be hard you know, but seeing him now: pretty and warm in the afternoon light makes the decision rather easy.
“I’d like to return some books,” you say once you’ve reached him, startling him out of his reverie.
He can’t believe it’s you, beautiful and bright–like a protagonist out of an Austen novel. He thought he’d never be allowed near you again, thought he ruined it all by bringing you up to Tim, but here you were–lovely like the morning. You’re carrying books, flowers, and your smile is starlight.
“Well, right this way, Ma’am.” He tells you, once he finds his voice. “I didn’t realize you could replant flowers after you’ve picked them.” He’s teasing you, but really he’s not sure why you’ve brought the books back–is it a way to let him down? Or are you just returning the favor?
He leads you into the back, unprofessional sure, but he needs to be alone with you. You’re so anxious, he can tell… he needs to be able to reach out and feel you.
“I just felt like you deserved flowers too, Jay.” You tell him, sweet and lovely like always.
“Hmm, well I refuse them… they’re all yours, I already replaced them.” His eyes are mischievous again, burning with joy as they stare into yours. You’re reminded of that night on the stairs, when he made you drink water and burned you alive.
“I talked to Tim,” You tell him, watching as his smile drops.
“Let me guess, he told you I’m bad news and doesn’t want you around me, right?” He asks, rough with the hurt of past bruises.
“Actually, he told me you’re bad news but he’s trusting me to be able to handle it.” Jason looks surprised, his summer green eyes wide with shock. He guessed he never really thought Tim would be okay with it…
He remembers seeing you for the first time: soft and gorgeous in the lowlight of the manor, he was sitting with Damian and remembers how the breath shot out of his lungs at the sight of you. Dami’s been teasing him about it for years now, bringing you up to piss Tim off and making plans for you to bring him to the planetarium on days when Jason said he’d pick him up–like a goddam parenttrap. He thinks back to that night on the stairs a few weeks ago, you looked so pretty spinning around with your friends, like Thumbelina. When he found you on the stairs he was panicked: worried about you and worried about Tim who never left your side, but you were still just so pretty.
He can’t believe you here now, bringing him flowers and his brother’s approval. He’s waited for this for so long, for the okay from the one person dearest to you, the one person who could make Jason actually care about listening to him.
“He really said that?” Jason asks you, hesitant and careful like he’s worried you’re playing a joke on him.
“He really said that,” You reply, laughing when Jason pulls you into a hug. He holds you for a few minutes, feels the air in your lungs press into his belly as you breathe in and out, it feels so good to have you here, to know that he’s not making anything worse by wanting you.
“So that means you’ll go out with me then, fairy girl?” he asks you, his rough fingers moving up to grasp your chin, tilting it up so you’re looking into his eyes. He waits for you to nod, then waits for the word, yes, to emerge from your pretty lips, before lowering down to kiss your forehead. He feels you sigh, feels your hands shake from their place on his arms, his kisses move down down down until they meet the corner of your lips. You're smiling slightly, like you’re having a happy dream, and when he kisses you for real that smile becomes a big grin.
It’s all teeth and laughter and the awkwardness of a first kiss, but Jason holds you up and lets you gasp into his mouth and swallows your sighs. He licks into your mouth and clashes his teeth against yours and calls you his fairy, his magic girl come to take him back to Neverland. He holds you tighter and tighter, and feels you shake under his affection, how lovely it is, how badly he wants to make your bones rattle.
“I’ll bring you more flowers on our date, sugar.” He tells you, kissing the underside of your jaw, before pulling away. He’s sad he has to let you go, frustrated that he has to stay at work while you get to go and hang out with Tim and Damian at the Museum all day, but the kiss you press into his hand–innocent and earnest–makes it worth it.
He leads you out of the back room and into the well-lit main entrance, pausing only to grab his book from the front desk. “By the way, I found this while I was stacking shelves, I thought it might be useful for your project.”
In his hands is a book titled Gotham City’s Founding Buildings, and on the cover, miraculously an illustration of Cherry Hill.
It’s too easy to fall in love with him, you think again, smiling as you pull him into another kiss.
zoro is not a man of many words, showing his love and affection for you through his actions. he looks out for you, always making sure you're within his line of sight. he will scoop your favourite foods onto your plate from his own. wherever you go, he's always got a hand on your waist, following you and staring viciously at anyone that dares look at you for too long.
even though you tell him that he does enough, he doesn't think so. you show your love so freely and he's never doubted where he stands in your life. he wishes he was more expressive but it doesn't come about naturally to him. so tonight, he thinks he's come up with a way for him to show you that you're the only one is his eyes.
he's laying on his bed, you straddling his lap as you go on about the day you had — going shopping with nami and robin and the sweet confectionaries you got to taste while exploring the town. he listens to every word you say intently, his fingers tracing faint circles on your waist.
as you speak, he reaches a hand to your ear and slowly and gently takes out the pretty earring you're wearing — a pearlescent heart shaped one that he had gifted you for your birthday. you're yapping had come to a stop as you watch him curiously, wondering what it is he's doing with that piece of jewellery.
not saying a word, he takes out one of his gold dangly earrings and then pierces it through the hole where he had just taken out your own earring. he then puts your heart earring where his gold one used to hang, its shine contrasting with the rust of the other two.
for a few moments he says nothing, simply admiring you with the way the moonlight pours in through the window and how it illuminates your features. then, in a soft voice, he says, "so you'll always have a piece of me. and i'll always have a piece of you."
your heart flutters at his words, an amorous blooming within your chest. your fingers lightly graze the new piece of jewellery that hangs on your earlobes and you can't help the faint pink that dusts your cheeks. you lean forward and place a tender kiss to his lips, which he returns with just the same gentleness, the action a silent display of the heart you hold for each other.
IN WHICH Jake Sim loves hockey, he loves it so much he is willing to spend his every free minute on the ice skating, but he also finds himself falling in love with you—the only girl his coach doesn't want him to date. But with the way you look at him, can he stay far enough to keep his position as the captain?
pairing– hockey captain!Jake x fem!reader
featuring– Enhypen members, Dani and Manon of katseye, Taehyun and Huening of txt, Keeho and Intak of piwon
genre– Fluff, Smut, slightly angst
warnings/contains– SMUT, simp!jake, kinda love at first sight, protective father, good relationships with parents, food mentions, Jake is very much a dream boyfriend, jake has a license, lots of teasing and flirting, secrete relationship, reader is told to be slightly shorter than Jake, nicknames/pet names used, parents get in the way of their relationship, masturbation (m & f), sexting, nudes exchange, oral (m & f), unprotected and protected sex, not proofread
word count– 25.5k
playlist »» ❝ It took five seconds to fall in love and two more to make you mine ❞ — Elijah Woods
↪ izzy adds... I've spend a good amount of time just looking at this picture of Jake instead of writing but honestly...can you blame me? It's the way he looks at me, I just can't adalhdlad
Anyways, i'm glad to finally show you my baby because I've been meaning to write a hockey romance for sooo long. And what better present could I give myself than finally publishing it AND with Jake as the star character haha
m.list
Ice. Water. They were the same thing, right? And if water was a necessity, ice was as well, wasn’t it? Because truly, it was.
There is no difference. Ice is simply frozen water, something we need to survive.
And you needed ice to survive. The feeling of freedom when you moved around, the way your skates clung to your feet perfectly, and especially the memories the ice held. You couldn’t just give up on them, no matter how much you tried to.
It wasn’t because you wouldn’t want to, in fact, you’d do anything to be able to step on the ice rink again, but it wasn’t within your capabilities to argue about the matter. It was overnight, without any previous warnings or discussions, and as you were picking up your things to leave for the ice rink before school, your dad stopped you, and your whole world had crumbled down. I don’t want you on my ice anymore. His words ring in your ears to this day, making you feel worse each time.
When you were younger, it was part of your daily routine to spend the afternoon there, hanging around with the players until late nights. One of the perks of being the NHL player’s daughter, you suppose. But then, in the blink of an eye, the father-daughter moments you loved so much, suddenly stopped.
At first, he tried to excuse it by telling you you needed to focus on your studies, but the more time passed, the more obvious it became that he simply didn’t want you around. Whenever you asked him if you could join him when he had training, he brushed you off without any good reason. It didn’t matter who was on the ice, if he had a lesson with the kids or people your age—you just couldn’t go.
It’s been four months since you last got to skate, and it felt like a part of you was missing.
“Why don’t you just go when he isn’t around then?” Your roommate, Daniela, asks, her eyes softening when she notices your tired expression as you stare at your phone, looking through old pictures. “I don’t want to go behind his back,” you mumble without glancing up at her.
“But you want to skate,” your other roommate, Manon, reminds you. You nod, putting down your phone and sighing as you notice the worried looks on their faces. “Well, then, how about we all go together? I might be able to get us in after closing hours,” you offer.
“I’m sorry, angel, I need to finish this project by midnight, so I can’t,” Manon excuses herself, and Dani follows soon after, saying she has two exams in the morning. “But you should still go,” she encourages you. “Go and have fun. We know how much it means to you,” Manon agrees with her, and you know you can’t back away now. You’ll definitely go tonight.
As soon as your feet stepped on the ice rink, it felt as if everything was back to how it was supposed to be. The cold air hit your face and all your worries, all the stress you were feeling in the past few days, have washed off. You moved quickly, the blades of your skates cutting through the ice with ease.
In that moment, you knew there was nothing else you needed. As long as you had the ability to skate, nothing else mattered.
So, just like that, it became a routine. Every day, shortly after ten, you’ve gone to the ice rink, borrowing the keys from the manager and staying there for an hour at least. Daniela went with you from time to time, keeping you company as much as she could but at the end, you realized it was more convenient to just go alone, without having to worry about the time you’d leave or come back.
You didn’t mind. You were skating again and that was enough.
“Hello, Mr. Park,” you greet him with a smile, just like you had many times before. “You’re earlier than usual,” he comments, putting on his jacket and taking out a bunch of keys from his pocket. You smile, grabbing the keys from him. “I needed to get out,” you shrug.
“You kids seem to do that a lot,” he shakes his head slightly. “School is a lot on you, huh?” You don’t answer, knowing just one look is enough as a response. When was it not a lot? “I see,” he nods, understanding. “In that case, I hope it helps you clear your head. Both of you.”
“Both of us?” You frown as you tug the keys into your pocket. “Dani isn’t with me today, I’m alone.”
You catch a change in his expression, a small yet visible flicker in his eyes, and it almost feels like he is planning something, as if there was something meaningful behind his actions. “Mr. Park,” you narrow your eyes at him, trying to see through him. He chuckles, sending you a warm smile before patting your shoulder and walking away.
You watch him confusedly until his figure disappears and you turn around again. That was…weird, to say the least. Still, you decide not to pay it much attention and do what you always do—go on the ice.
You smile, letting the feeling sink in before you furrow your eyebrows, the loud movement of the puck ringing in your ears. You look around, your eyes following the hockey player on the other side. You stare at the number 4 on his back, frowning when you realize you don’t recognize him. You always knew the names of every player on the team, their practice schedules, positions, and even the rankings your dad had for them. But now…you had no idea who this one was.
A part of you hated your dad for it.
You hated him for taking it from you. For taking the excitement you felt when you watched hockey players or figure skaters. Now, you felt like there was nothing connecting you to those sports.
You take a seat on the closest bench, switching your shoes to your skates. You’re tying the laces when a loud pank interrupts you, the sound of the puck hitting the plexiglass making you flinch. You raise your head, watching as the boy stops in front of you when he sees you. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes, pulling his helmet off with his empty hand, his hair sweaty. “That wasn’t meant to attack you or anything.”
“I’m fine,” you brush it off, standing up with a casual shrug. “It’s not me you should be worried about, though. But rather your aim,” you point out. “And that stop didn’t look exactly stable, either.” You see him scoff, and slowly make your way toward the nearest entrance to the ice, your skates cutting through the surface with ease.
“And who are you to judge? What exactly makes you think you know better than me?” he challenges you, his voice dripping with amusement as he leans on his hockey stick.
You chuckle, turning slightly to look over your shoulder. You smirk. “Should I show you?” you tease, not bothered to wait for his answer as you swiftly push, gliding towards him, picking up your speed.
His dark eyes widen in surprise and he drops his stick, his helmet following right after, expecting you to bump into him. However, you’re ready for that. With a swift movement, you take a sharp turn around him, coming to a perfect stop just behind him. “How’s that?” you ask, your voice filled with playful confidence.
“Pretty good,” he breaths out, laughing in awe as he turns around to face you. “What’s your name, figure skater?” He asks, the mockery at the words ‘figure skater’ painfully obvious. “I’m not a figure skater,” you clarify, your movements precise as you pick up his dropped hockey stick. “I can handle the puck just as well,” you grin, imitating his moves from before and quickly scoring into the net. You strike a mockingly exaggerated bow, your name slipping past your lips, almost like a laugh in his face.
What an introduction.
“I’m Jake,” he says before picking up his helmet from the ground. You smile, skating backward away from him with his hockey stick still in your hands. He follows right away, and it’d be impossible not to notice the grin on his face.
You take a few rounds around the rink, joking around with him as you skate backwards so you can see him. He has a cocky grin on his face, and for the first time, you don’t mind. You always hated seeing that look on men’s faces, when they thought they were above you, above everyone. But for some reason, his smirk didn’t look the same.
At that moment, you think it might have hit both of you. The spark, the flame burning deep down in your stomach as you laugh together over nothing.
You slow down so he can catch up to you. “Are you on the hockey team?” You ask even though you already know the answer. Of course, he is. The jersey made you figure out as much. “Yeah,” he nods. “The captain himself,” Jake laughs, speeding up to get in front of you and get the roles switched. “But I guess the coach made a mistake if there is so much I still need to develop.”
“I mean, you’re decent,” you smile. “Oh, thank you. I appreciate that, figure skater,” he teases you again, but this time, you don’t hear any annoying mockery in his voice. “And anyway, the coach doesn’t make mistakes. He must have had something in mind when he made you the captain, number four.”
“You seem to know a thing or two about him, huh?” You shrug. For a moment, your focus fades away as you think about your dad. You could have known the team sooner. You could have hung out with them just like with any of the other guys your dad trained. Sure, back then, you were a kid, so it was mostly just them looking after you, but you loved it nonetheless. You would give anything to feel that again.
Jake uses the lack of your attention, grabbing the bottom part of his hockey stick and pulling you with him. You snap out of your thoughts, holding on tighter so you wouldn’t fall, letting him drag you around the ice rink.
You stumble forward when he pulls with his full strength and you let go of the stick to be ready for the fall but before you hit the ground, his arms catch you, spinning you around as if it was a part of a performance. You end up laughing again. Honestly, you lost count of the amount of times he had made you laugh.
“Thank you,” you mumble when he stops again, sending him a grateful smile. “For everything.” Jake shakes his head, “I didn’t do anything.” — “You did everything,” you correct him. “I needed this. So, thank you for reminding me why I love skating again.”
Jake’s bag swings over his shoulder as he walks out of the ice rink with you, your bag in his other hand, despite all your protests. He insisted on carrying it for you, saying something along the lines of wanting to be gentleman-like. So you let him.
“What exactly are you actually, figure skater? If you don’t play ice hockey or figure skate either, then what do you do?” He wonders as you lock the door behind you. “Nothing and everything,” you proclaim. “I grew up on this ice. I watched every game the Tigers played for the past thirteen years,” you shrug as if it was completely normal. It was normal, though. For you, at least.
“So, are you some sort of Mowgli of the ice?” Jake laughs, causing you to do the same. “I guess you could say that. Even though it were still people who raised me, sometimes I feel like the ice rink had a big part in it too.” He nods, humming in response.
Jake ends up walking you to your dorm that night. You never mention who your dad is, nor what your last name is, because you don’t think it’s important. You talk about everything else with him—from your major, through your childhood hobbies, to your friends. You tell him all about it, and he tells you all about everything that he can think of at the moment as well.
“Then, I’ll see you around, figure skater?” He wonders as he hands you back your bag, running his fingers through his hair. “Maybe,” you smile. “I hope you learn to stop more smoothly until we meet again, number four.” He chuckles, nodding. “I’ll do my best,” he promises, awkwardly snapping his fingers as he points at you and swallows what he wants to say next. You raise your eyebrows, questioning what it is, but he shakes his head, not saying anything else. He sends you one last smile before turning around on his heel. “Good night, figure skater.”
“Night,” you mumble softly, smiling when you open your dorm door.
“You’re acting weird,” Manon comments, eyeing you from across the room. You look up from your notes in your lap, raising an eyebrow at her in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Your book is upside down,” Dani points out and your eyes immediately fall down again. You quickly turn the book around, embarrassed. “For the last few days, you’ve been completely out of it. Why?”
“I just can’t focus,” you sigh, resting your head against the headboard of your bed tiredly. “Tests?” Manon asks, but you’re not sure, honestly. Ever since that night, since you’ve met Jake, you couldn’t get him out of your head. You couldn’t stop thinking about how the hockey team was doing this season, who was on the team, and if your dad was still just as strict with them as before.
You just wanted to be a part of the life again.
“Boys?” Daniela chimes in. You give her a look—almost a warning one, but it only creates a smirk on her face. “Bingo.”
“What boys? What do I not know about?” Manon’s eyes widen, searching for answers in your eyes. “Nothing,” you shoot back. “There’s no one. I’m thinking about the Tigers.”
“Those, Angel, are men as well,” she reminds you with a teasing grin. “Some fine ones, may I add.” You roll your eyes at her, but you don’t argue. You might have only met one of them so far but if his teammates looked anything like him, it was only another reason to meet the team.
You needed to convince your dad soon, no matter what.
“So, what about the Tigers?” Dani asks, the study notes on her desk long forgotten as she turns all her attention to you. “I’ve heard they are doing pretty well this season. Apparently some good first years joined this year.” You hum in response, thinking about it for a second.
“I met their captain a few days ago, he was training when I got to the ice rink so we skated together,” you admit, watching their eyes widen in excitement. “It was nothing like that,” you roll your eyes at them even though a part of you knows it was like that. You can’t forget about the way he made you feel that day. “It just got me to miss them even more. You know, watching their trainings and stuff.”
Their eyes soften and you shake your head when you notice the pity in their expressions. “Good thing Uni is keeping me busy anyway,” you joke, but the sadness in your voice is painfully obvious. Still, they don’t press you any more, understanding when it’s the time to just stay quiet.
It’d be silly to say Jake found his love at first sight.
Still, he can’t seem to get you out of his head, and it’s getting to the point it disturbs his everyday life.
“How about you stop thinking about getting your dick wet and focus, captain?” Jake’s roommate asks, dropping his notes in front of him. The black-haired boy snaps out of his thoughts, picking up the small notebook. “What’s this?” He frowns, opening the first page. “Ideas for our next game’s tactics. Discuss it with the coach if you like any of it.”
“And really, start paying attention. If you fail your exam just because of some stupid girl and we lose our captain, I’m going to beat you up.” Jake laughs, nodding. “I’ll pass, Jay. I’ve been studying,” he assures him, but the snort that leaves Sunghoon’s lips on the other side of the room makes Jay worry again. “What?” He raises his hands in the air in defence when he sees Jake glare at him. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t need to,” Jake rolls his eyes.
“Look, guys, you don’t get it. You should have seen her! She was so cocky! She thought she could skate better than me!” He exclaims, a smile appearing on his lips as he thinks about the girl he met two weeks ago. “Honestly, she might have been better,” he chuckles. “I just know I was supposed to meet her there.”
“And here he goes again with the fate thing,” Sunghoon scoffs, turning around on his chair to focus on his new skating choreography instead. “If you two are fated as you say, why haven’t you met again, huh?” Jay shakes his head at him, sighing. “Just look over the game plans. I’m going to the library,” he waves his two roommates a quick bye, grabbing his bag from the floor and leaving the dorm.
The room falls silent for a moment before Jake speaks up again. “What if I went to see her?”
“Oh God,” Sunghoon groans. There was nothing good that could come out of this. No matter how he looks at it, Jake’s sudden obsession could only go left. Still, it didn’t stop him. Before Sunghoon could say anything else, try to explain why it wasn’t the best idea, Jake was already up on his toes, packing up his laptop and some books for his afternoon lesson.
“It’ll be fine,” he proclaims when he sees his roommate’s face, chuckling at his worries. “I’ll just say a quick hi to her, maybe get her number, and then I’ll go. I have math anyway, remember?” Sunghoon sighs, shaking his head. He lets him go, though, deciding to leave it up to him to deal with whatever he is planning to start.
Jake hesitates as he stands in front of the same door he last saw you at, debating what he wants to say. Just as he reaches his hand up to knock on the door, the wooden furniture flies open and he almost bumps into a blond that tries to leave the dorm. He quickly blinks a few times, asking her if she’s okay.
“Yeah, no worries,” she brushes it off, her eyes wandering all over his face curiously. “I feel like I’ve seen you before.”
“Ah,” he offers his hand for a handshake with a smile. “Jake Sim. I, uhm, am the captain of the hockey team.” She chuckles as she shakes his hand, connecting the dots. “Daniella Avanzini.”
Jake awkwardly rubs the back of his neck as he looks at her, realizing that he really had no plan at all when he came here. She, however, just smiles at him, and as if she knew what was going on through his head, she informs him you’re not home at the moment. He nods, quickly apologizing as he turns on his heel to leave.
“Wait,” she stops him, her grin somehow mischievous. “She mentioned you before, just so you know. If you want, she plans to go skate at ten tonight again. I need to study so I can’t go with her, maybe you could keep her company.”
Without realizing what he is doing, Jake’s lips turn into a smile and he nods, saying his goodbye quickly and running to his lesson.
It’s six when Jake arrives at the ice rink, cursing himself out for being late. Coach was going to kill him sooner or later. He does his best to change as fast as possible but when he steps on the ice, it’s already 6:12.
“Sim, you’re late!” Coach yells at him from across the rink, only sparing him a mare look before turning his attention back to the boys in front of him, watching them closely. “Practice speed drills,” he proclaims, quickly entrusting for Jay to lead it as he walks towards the team captain.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Jake apologizes without hesitation. “I got caught up in school work but I’ll make sure I’m on time from now on.” Coach scoffs, shaking his head slightly and patting his shoulder. “I get it kid, don’t worry about it.” Jake confusedly glances Jay’s way but he is too busy with his own thing to notice. Something feels wrong. He shouldn’t be this understanding.
“You–You do?”
Coach chuckles, nodding. “I have a kid myself, I know how hard it can be for you youngsters.”
Jake’s brows furrow but he nods anyway. He isn’t sure why he is so calm about it but if Coach is in a happy mood, he doesn’t need to piss him off. “Right, thank you,” he mumbles, offering a small smile before putting on his helmet and joining the others.
“Dude, how are you this late and still alive and breathing?” One of the guys, Huening, asks as he comes to a stop right before the captain. Jake simply shrugs, glancing back at the coach again. “Not sure, but not complaining either,” he says, patting Kai’s shoulder slightly as he looks around to see how everyone’s doing.
“Okay, I need to warm up. Jay, you got it for a bit?” He calls at the older man, receiving a simple nod in return. “Okay! No more lazing around, let’s go!” Coach yells at the same time as Jake starts moving again, tilting his head slightly. This seemed more like the coach he knew so well.
The training goes on; from passing, through rebound drills to a full practice game where Jake almost curses out one of his closest friends, Heeseung, after they collide together and both bump into the plexiglass, causing Jake’s vision to blur for a few seconds. And when they finish, they all skate to one side where Coach is already waiting for them, a pen and notebook in his hands.
Jake groans, tiredly plopping down onto the ice and taking down his helmet, brushing his sweaty hair back so they won’t get in front of his eyes. The rest of the team follows shortly after, until it’s only the coach standing.
“Okay, first off, you all did well today, and I’m sure you know what you each need to work on so I’m going to make it short,” he says before handing his notes of the practice to the captain so he can go through them with his teammates later. “I won’t be able to be here on Friday so please, practice just as if I was and focus on the things I pointed out,” he continues, signaling to the notebook Jake is holding. “And after you’re done, you’ll find videos from some games in my office, take it as your homework and study them before our next game.”
They all chant in unison, assuring him they will. “Alright, any questions or suggestions from anyone?” Jake looks around. “Well, actually,” Huening clears his throat nervously. “I’ve been thinking– I mean, we’ve been thinking,” he directs to a few guys around him. “A lot of teams gain their popularity online and you know, we only have our instagram account that no one really visits anyway. Maybe…we could get a media girl or something?”
“A media girl?” Coach questions.
“Someone who would film videos for us, take pictures and take care of our media for us,” Taehyun explains simply.
“More people would know about us that way which also means more people to cheer for us at games,” Heeseung joins in. “More pretty girls thirsting over us,” he adds with a laugh, high-fiving with Keeho beside him.
The coach tilts his head, watching the boys in front of him as he thinks about it, eventually nodding. “Sure, if you can find someone who’s willing to, then why not,” he approves and the guys cheer quietly.
Jake’s eyes widen as it hits him, immediately raising his head to join the conversation. “I think I know of someone.” Jay catches the small spark in his eyes and shakes his head, knowing damn well what he was thinking about. He wasn’t even surprised.
“So, who are you thinking about?” Keeho asks as he takes off his gear in the locker room. Jake’s lips turn up into a smile just at the thought of you, and that’s enough for all the guys to corner him, questioning him about this someone on his mind. “What? Are you too scared one of them is going to flirt with her before you can?” Jay teases, shaking his head as he walks into the showers, a towel wrapped around his waist.
“Oh? So your girl?” Heeseung wraps his hand around Jake’s shoulder but he escapes right after, grabbing his towel quickly to run to the shower instead. “Not my girl. Yet, at least,” he finally speaks up, disappearing before anyone can say anything else.
Jake might not be the most responsible person on Earth or the most punctual, but when he knows a girl he can’t stop thinking about will be somewhere at ten, you can be sure he will be on time.
Your eyes widen when you notice him sitting at one of the benches, a phone in his hands and his skates ready on his feet. Unlike the other day, this time he isn’t wearing his gear. He has a simple dark grey hoodie on with black pants, and you can’t help but smile.
“You got lost, number four?” You ask as you slowly approach him. He looks up from his phone, grinning as he puts it aside. “My name is Jake, figure skater,” he reminds you while still keeping up. He watches you as you sit down next to him, putting on your skates. “And I am not a figure skater, Jake,” you say, unable to contract your smile as you glance at him again.
“Guess I’ll have to think of a new nickname for you then.”
“I guess you will,” you nod, standing up when you finish lacing your skates. “I’m not sure what you’re doing here but…first to be on the other side wins?” you suggest playfully, already stepping on the ice before he can even register your words. As soon as he does, he quickly tries to catch up to you, putting all his skills to use just to be faster than you.
And he manages, even though it’s not the way he’d want.
Just as he catches up to you, you step badly and the next thing he knows, you’re on the ice and he is turning around to get to you again as fast as he can. “Are you okay?” He asks, the worry in his voice painfully obvious. You take his hand when he offers, standing back up awkwardly. “I’m good.”
He sighs in relief, shaking his head at you slightly. He ruffles your hair and you yell immediately, making him laugh. “Alright, bambi, I think I won. What’s my reward?” He teases, the nickname making you frown. “Bambi?” He only smirks, slowly skating away from you, not taking his eyes off you in the process. “Fine, what do you want?” You ask, your skates cutting through the ice once again as you follow him.
“We need a media girl,” he admits without a second thought. “I said I would find one. And I want you.” His words send shivers down your spine. You bite your bottom lip, watching him nervously while thinking about it. But really, if Jake tells you he wants you, can you refuse?
“The coach agreed to this?” You ask before giving him an answer. As much as you’d love to hold onto this excuse to be on the rink, you still don’t want to just go behind your dad’s back like this. “Yeah, he said I can handle it. He has a big thrust in me, you know,” he says proudly, making you chuckle. “I’m sure he does.”
“We have practice on Friday. Come by, I’ll introduce you to the team and you can decide then. I’ll understand if they piss you so much you won’t want to work with them,” he jokes.
“And what if you’ll be the one annoying me so much that I decide not to?” You grin and he rolls his eyes. You manage to do a full lap by then, still following him around the ice rink.
“Also, I want two rewards,” he proclaims all of a sudden before stopping. You mimic his movement with a raised eyebrow. “And why exactly should you get two?”
“Because I’m amazing?” Despite his lame act, a chuckle escapes your lips and he knows he’s already winning. “Egoist maybe, yeah,” you smirk, scanning his face with your eyes. “Okay, what is it? I warn you though, if it’s stupid, I’ll kick you to the balls.”
“Not my kids!” He fake-gasps dramatically, putting his hands in front of his crotch to prove his point. You laugh again, shaking your head. He smiles when he sees you, and the moment you notice it, you feel like something shifts between you. You swallow a lump in your throat, prompting him to finally tell you what he wants. You know you will definitely think about that smile of his later, though.
“Okay, jokes aside, I want your number,” he admits, your eyes widening. “Why?” He chuckles. “What do you mean ‘why’? I want to be able to talk to you. I mean, what if I decide to stay late for training and need a goalie?”
“So that’s what I’m good for, huh?”
“That and maybe…just in case I feel a bit lonely here all alone,” he whispers, skating away again before you can say anything. You take a deep breath, sorting out your thoughts before you follow him, taking a turn towards the exit while he takes another lap around.
You grab his phone from the bench, showing it to him. “Come here and unlock it if you want it!” You don’t have to say more. Jake doesn’t show any signs of hesitation before rushing to you, barely stepping off the ice as he takes the phone away from you. You chuckle at how determined he is, writing down your number when he hands you the phone again.
“Why exactly am I a bambi now?” You frown as you watch him add a contact name. “Smile,” he says instead of answering, positioning the phone right in front of his eyes to get a picture of you from his perspective. He isn’t much taller than you but you still look up, forming an awkward smile. You’re not sure why, but there is a smile on his lips when he lowers his phone again. A smile so adorable you want to savor it.
“Bambi is a cute animal,” he proclaims suddenly, making you blink a few times. “And even though you scared the shit out of me for a moment when you fell down, you were kind of like a bambi.”
“I’m not sure what that means or if I like it.”
“I’m telling you you’re cute,” he clarifies and a blush creeps up your cheeks. “See?” He shows you the picture of you he just took and your cheeks just redden. You do look pretty cute in that. “Thanks,” you mumble, avoiding eye contact with him and trying to get past him on the ice again. He laughs quietly at that but still steps aside to let you go, putting his phone back down. As he turns around to join you again he stops for a second, simply admiring you as you spin around, doing a few tricks as you have the space now.
A part of him wishes to watch you like this forever.
“Did you know I’d be here?” You ask as you walk side by side with him outside, your hands in your hoodie pocket to keep them warm. “I did,” he admits. “I met Daniela earlier today when I stopped by your dorm and she told me you’d be here at ten.” Dani, I need to thank you for the rest of my life, you think, chuckling softly. “I see.”
“She seems nice.”
“She is,” you agree. “And so is Manon.” Jake smiles, fixing the strap of your bag as it falls off his shoulder. “Wait, shit, that means they’ll ask me about you,” you groan at the realization. Maybe you weren’t going to thank Dani for so long after all. Yes, you did enjoy your time with him but that didn’t mean you were ready for their questions when you got back. Honestly, a part of you wanted to keep it just between the two of you. A secret only you two knew about.
“Oh, yeah? What are you going to tell them?” He teases, leaning slightly down to reach your ear. You roll your eyes at how cheeky he sounds, pushing him off again. “That you’re childish.”
He chuckles. “And? What else?”
“That you still can’t skate.” He fake-gasps. You bite your bottom lip, rethinking your words as you remember the moments you spent with him on the ice. “And, maybe, that I enjoyed tonight,” you mumble, so quietly he almost doesn’t hear you.
“So you do like me!” He grins, clenching his fist in excitement as if he had just won a match against the strongest team in the league. You scoff, shaking your head at him. “You’re an idiot.”
“Idiot you might consider going out with?” Jake asks, turning his head to face you, the hope in his eyes obvious. Your breath catches in your throat, the question loud and clear. Your eyes widen and you quickly glance at him to see if he’s being serious or just joking around. When you gaze into his eyes, you get your answer.
“Maybe,” you mumble, averting your gaze again. “If you try hard enough.”
And he does. He tries as hard as he can. Not only does he walk you to your door again, almost being dragged in by Manon when she sees him, but when he gets to his own dorm, he’s already texting you. It’s a stupid question, one that makes you raise your eyebrow, but it gets the job done, and you end up texting him for the rest of the night.
You don’t think you’d be able to hide the smile he creates on your face even if you wanted to.
Especially when he keeps sending you random pictures. Of his face, his roommates, of the notes he is studying at the moment, anything and everything. He’s cute, you have to give him that.
Your Thursday lessons pass by in the blink of an eye and Friday rolls in faster than you’d expect. Jake provided you with the team practice schedule the day before and you were never this happy to know most of your lessons were in the morning and didn’t collide with any of their practice hours.
You weren’t sure how you’d face your dad just yet, but that was a fight for your future self. Right now, the first thing on your list was to get out of your room as fast as possible so you can still make it to class on time.
“You know, just saying like, you don’t need any makeup. So maybe, if you just ditched that, you won’t have to rush so much now,” Jake comments, watching you as you sit at your table, finishing up your hair. You glare at him. “I’m not letting you here again,” you warn him and he immediately raises his hands in surrender. “I got you coffee, come on!” You avert your gaze again so he wouldn’t see your smile. Because he did, and god damn. Who would have thought a man showing up at your door in the morning with a cup of coffee could be so fucking attractive?
Manon and Dani left shortly after he came but they didn’t forget to mimic kissing together before they walked out of the door. You had to roll your eyes at them because even though Jake’s lips looked attractive, you weren’t just going to make out with him in your room when you were already running behind so much.
“Okay, let’s go,” you proclaim, quickly collecting your books into a bag as you glance at him. He’s smiling when his eyes lock with yours, and it makes you melt just a bit more. “What?” you question, feeling slightly embarrassed with his eyes on you. “You’re pretty,” he says, standing up from your bed and handing you your cup of coffee. You blink a few times but before you can say anything, he is already out of the door.
“Jake, you’re impossible,” you mumble, feeling your cheeks heat up.
You catch up to him quickly, sipping on your drink as you walk side by side with him, sneaking glances at him until he calls you out on it. “You can just say you like my face and I’ll let you look at it all day but don’t be this secretive about it. You’re not good at it anyway,” he chuckles and you close your eyes in regret. You weren’t sure if letting Jake into your life was such a good idea after all.
What even were you doing, honestly? Skating together at night, texting all day and at night where you should be long asleep, and now this. Why exactly did he just turn up at your door unannounced with your favorite coffee order as if it was normal? As if he’s been doing it for ages.
But no matter how weird or rushed it might seem, it felt somehow right. You didn’t mind the attention he was giving you, and you definitely didn’t want him to stop. If anything, a part of you was just waiting for him to take a step forward.
“I’m not looking at you,” you argue, averting your eyes.
“Right, and I’m absolutely terrible at hockey,” he scoffs, shaking his head. “It’s fine, you can steal glances all you want. But just because it’s you.”
You feel your heart skipping a beat at his words. He had his way of gently flirting with you and it was making you crazy. You knew he was interested in you, you’d be blind not to notice that, but you still didn’t know what to do with his compliments and flirting, how to react to them.
When you got to class, you thought that was your moment, a free minute to think about everything and figure it out, figure Jake out, but you’ve barely settled down in the class when your phone buzzed, announcing a message from no one else but the lost puppy himself.
Jake: one attachment
You: what exactly am I looking at?
Jake: flowers
You: yes, I see that
You: but why?
You: also don’t you have a lesson?
Jake: oh, no, I’m free for another hour so I’m just walking around campus
Jake: saw these and thought of you
You stared at the messages, a blush spreading across your face. He couldn’t get any better. Everything he did, every little comment or action, made you feel important, seen. And honestly, you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep talking to him without pulling him into a kiss and claiming him yours.
Because right now, there was nothing you wanted to do more.
At five, you arrived at the ice rink, the loud chatter of the boys from the locker room reaching you right after you stepped inside. You chuckle at it, the familiar feeling making you at ease. You sit down at one of the benches, pulling out your phone and scrolling through your messages—a few emails from the school, a message from your girls, wishing you good luck, and also a text from your mom. You quickly open the text, smiling softly as your eyes land on a picture of your mom in a red dress, asking you if she looks good. You immediately tell her that she’s beautiful and ask her what she’s getting ready for.
Just as you do, the guys’ voices grow louder and you look up, watching them step on the ice one after another. You immediately find Jake with your eyes, your smile widening as he waves at you, skating to the plexiglass in front of you. “Come here, I’ll introduce you.”
You step on the ice in your sneakers, awkwardly smiling at the few boys staring at you. “Coach is out today, said he’s got something with his wife. He might seem a bit scary at first but he is nice, the biggest Tiger of us all,” he explains with a smile, his hair falling in front of his eyes. So that’s what mom is getting ready for, you realize.
“Oh, wait, you probably know him already, right? Would be weird if you haven’t after, what, thirteen years, huh?” He laughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, quietly cursing at himself to just shut up. You chuckle, sending him a reassuring smile, your heart making a little flip at the way he remembers your words.
“Okay, well, these are the tigers. Boys, our new media girl,” your name sounds fancy on his lips, little too good, honestly. You scan the faces in front of you, a few familiar ones you remember from the hallways or parties. “If you need any help, feel free to text me,” a taller guy skates towards you, reaching his hand out. You grab it hesitantly, your eyes narrowing at the smug smirk on his face.
“Back it off, Hee,” Jake warns him, almost pushing him out of the way, which only gets the older man to laugh. “No need to worry. I’m not stealing your girl,” Heeseung chuckles, turning his head towards Jay with a knowing grin. They exchange a few words but you don’t catch them anymore, not when Jake starts talking to you, mumbling a quiet sorry.
“It’s fine,” you shake your head. “But…” a smile spreads across your lips as you gaze into his eyes, tilting your head slightly. “Your girl? How come I don’t know about that?” The worry in his eyes disappears, a hint of mischief replacing it. “They can probably just see the look in your eyes,” he proclaims, leaning in closer to reach your ear. “You’re basically undressing me with your gaze, Bambi.”
You scoff, but before you can say anything, Jake is already skating away, leading their training and you have no other choice but to go back to the bench and think about it, about him. Were you doing that? Surely not… right?
You watch Jake lead the practice and something in your shifts. As if he wasn’t already attractive enough, seeing him like this, helping everyone out and yelling at them what to do, he felt somehow hotter.
Maybe you were actually undressing him with your eyes when you thought about it.
And as if that wasn’t already enough on its own, every chance he got, he found a way over to you, asking you what you thought about them, if you were enjoying yourself, and also occasionally just saying a stupid joke that just came to mind. You laughed each time. Because no matter how stupid the joke might be, you weren’t thinking straight at the moment.
“So, what do you think? Am I good?” He leans against the plexiglass, a smug smile on his lips. You shake your head with a chuckle, stepping closer to him. For a moment, you completely forgot about the other guys on the other side of the rink, only focusing on the golden retriever in front of you. “You’re not too bad.”
“In that case,” he starts, quickly glancing around to make sure none of his teammates are standing behind him, ready to tease him to death the moment they hear him say the words out loud. “Can I finally take you out? Who wouldn’t want to date the greatest player on the hockey team?”
You roll your eyes at his confidence but don’t refuse. Instead, you think. “Alright, Manon and Dani will be gone for the weekend but I said I’d stay at the dorm. If you want, you can come over and we can watch something.”
He narrows his eyes, shaking his head. “No.”
“No?”
“I want a proper date with you. Not fuck you on the couch with a movie in the background just because you have an empty place,” he states, gazing into your eyes. Even though, if he was honest, he could still fuck you on the couch after the date if you wanted.
Your breath hitches just so slightly as you look at him, averting your eyes. God damn it, Jake. He was better and better each second, and if he was in for the long game, so were you. “Fine, then pick me up,” you mumble, refusing to look at him again. But Jake doesn’t mind because he heard what he wanted, and he couldn’t be happier at the moment.
You groan and close your eyes as you hear Jake turn around and yell “She said yes!” at his teammates, regretting your choice of date for a second. But when he glances at you again with his little boyish grin, you completely forget about it, telling him to get back to practice with a smile on your face.
When the practice wraps up, your phone is full of pictures you took of the boys as they practice (most of them of Jake because every time he saw you pulling out your phone, he got into the shot), and it makes you smile again. Just being here with them makes you happy. Watching them bicker and tease each other, it was exactly what you were missing before.
A few of the guys pat your shoulder as they leave, something about wishing you good luck but honestly, Jake is the only one you can focus on again. “Undressing me again, aren’t we?” He teases and you roll your eyes. “You’re on thin ice, boy. Might have to reconsider our date,” you warn him and he immediately raises his hands in surrender.
“Okay, my mouth is shut,” he says, getting off the ice as well. He takes off his helmet, his lips turning up in a smile again as he watches you. “Wait for me? I’ll be quick.” You nod without a second thought, agreeing.
It’s the third time he walks you back to your dorm from the ice rink. It might seem like a simple gesture, and really it is, but you still feel the warmth in your chest. You find yourself opening up to him more than night, sharing a few of your dreams and places you want to visit with him and he doesn’t miss out on the opportunity to offer you to go there with you. You brush him off but honestly, when you think about it, it doesn’t sound bad at all.
“Darling, we haven’t seen you in so long. I miss you.” You smile gently as you listen to your mother’s voice, sipping on your morning coffee. At eleven. “I know, I’m sorry. But I have a break in a month, I’ll definitely come home then, I promise,” you say, a part of you feeling sorry that you haven’t been around for so long. Your mom sighs, putting her hand over the phone microphone as she shares the information with your dad. You catch a glimpse of his voice in the background but it’s not loud enough so you could make out words out of it.
“And why not this weekend, Angel? I’ll make your favorite food.” You hesitate for a second, debating on if you should tell her or not. But in the end, honesty wins. After all, it’s your mother who you’re talking about. The same woman who held you in a tight hug after your first breakup, who told you stories about princes, saying she wishes you nothing less than a charming prince who would love you dearly. You knew she’d be happy to hear about it. Even if it means you won’t come home this weekend.
“I’ve actually got a date later tonight,” you mumble and the soft gasp that leaves her lips makes you chuckle. “Oh my! Who is the lucky boy?”
“He’s…” a smile spreads on your lips as you think back to the puppy-like-boy who’s been flirting with you since you first met him on the ice rink. “An engineering student. He…He’s nice to me, mom. And makes me smile a lot. I like him.”
“That’s great,” she nods, approving quietly. “In that case, I hope you’ll have fun tonight. And, darling.” You narrow your eyes, catching the suspicious tone in her voice. She has something planned and whatever it is, it can’t be good. “If it works out, bring him with you next time. I’d like to see him.” And you were right. Even though you knew your mom would love Jake if she met him and that Jake would love your mom, thinking about bringing him to meet your parents when you haven’t even had one date yet wasn’t something you wanted to do.
Still, you force a smile, almost as if she could see you through the phone. “Of course. I’ll see how it goes.”
The conversation changes shortly after as she asks about Manon and Dani. You tell her about how they are doing in school, how you are holding up, and the conversation just flows naturally after that.
At one point, she hands the phone to your dad and you repeat everything you just said, well, except for the fact you were going on a date. While your mom was always excited when you told her about boys you were interested in, you saw the way your dad’s jaw clenched just at a mention of a boy’s name. And while you loved being his little princess while you were little, you thought his overprotectiveness now was unnecessary.
It’s around five when you hear the knock on the door. You get up from the chair you’ve been sitting in and open the door, your eyes falling on Jake immediately. He is wearing jeans and a simple white shirt with his denim jacket over it but god, he looks fine.
“Why didn’t you call or text? I would have gotten ready first,” you mumble, stepping aside so he can walk inside. He just shakes his head, saying something about being able to be with you for longer like this. You sigh, closing the door behind him. “Alright then, how fancy do you want me?” He smiles, glancing back at you. “I want you comfortable,” he proclaims and this time it’s you shaking your head. Alright, fancy it is.
Jake settles down on your bed, his eyes following you as you scan the clothes in your closet. Then, finally, your eyes land on a brown dress, one you know hugs your body well. You glance at him with a teasing smile before grabbing the piece and disappearing into the bathroom to get dressed.
When you walk out again, Jake’s jaw is practically on the floor and he has to hold himself back as he leans against the wall, watching you from the comfort of your bed. “God,” he breathes out and you chuckle, whispering a quiet thank you as you sit down at the table beside him so you could do your makeup. “You’re beautiful, gorgeous.”
A smile spreads across your lips without you being able to control it, looking at him through your mirror. “You already convinced me to go on a date with you, no need to try so much anymore.” He only shakes his head at your words, “I’m not trying for anything. I mean it. You look amazing, love.” The nickname sends a shiver down your spine but you don’t let it show, applying your makeup and trying to ignore the blush creeping up your cheeks.
“Alright, let’s go,” you say, turning to face him. He smiles when you do, averting his eyes from you for the first time since you sat down as he gets up, offering you his hand immediately. You roll your eyes at how cheesy he is but hold his hand nonetheless, letting him lead you out of your dorm.
“Where are we going?” You wonder, following him to his car. You walk slightly ahead of him, trying to open the car door but it’s locked. He chuckles, shaking his head as he reaches you, unlocking the car with a simple click of a button and then opening the door for you. “You think I’d let you open that on your own?” You blink a few times, sliding into the passenger seat without another word. You weren’t sure how you were going to survive the night if he had your heart racing so much already.
The drive is calm, quiet, with jvke playing on the radio, only setting the mood for what’s to come. You softly hum to the songs as you look out the window, smiling. You weren’t even doing anything yet and it already felt nice. Just being with him, spending time together, was enough.
When the car stops again and you try to open the door to step out, Jake sends you a warning glare, making you chuckle. Your hand falls back to your side while he walks around the car, opening the door for you and offering you his hand to help you step out. You shake your head at him, squeezing his hand tighter as he locks his car. “You really don’t have to do all that.”
“Opening the door for you is the least I can do,” he assures you, the puppy eyes he gives you making your heart skip a beat. “Let’s go, everything is prepared already,” he says, taking you towards one of the buildings beside you.
Your mouth falls open in awe as you step on the empty rooftop, your eyes landing on the blanket set in the middle with two baskets full of—how you assumed—food. You glance at him immediately, your eyes wide as you search for anything that might prove this isn’t real. Because honestly, how could it be? How lucky did you have to be to meet this man?
“How did you–”
“I have connections,” he shrugs, smirking when he sees your face. The innocent smile, with those wide eyes of yours was something he could look at forever. “I wasn’t sure what you would like but I thought dinner couldn’t go wrong, right?” He asks, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. You don’t answer him immediately. Instead, you move your hand to his forearm, squeezing it tightly as you stand on your tiptoes, placing a soft kiss on his cheek.
Jake has to blink a few times to process what’s happening and before he can do anything, grab your waist, kiss you on the lips, smile, respond, anything, you’re already walking away, sitting down on the blanket he prepared earlier.
He chuckles, shaking his head in awe as he comes to sit down beside you. You smile as you watch him, genuinely happy. “This is amazing, Jake. You couldn’t have made the first date better.” He smiles as well, opening the basket and taking out a bottle of wine. “I assure you it will be even better with this wine.” You laugh, taking out two glasses out of the basket and moving them towards him so he could pour the wine.
The night went on with Jake feeding you all sorts of fruits he brought after you ate a dinner he ordered, drinking wine under the moonlight and watching the stars appear in the sky as you talked about all sorts of things. You’ve found a comfort rhythm together, making it feel easy to talk to him. And honestly, it felt almost like you were an old couple already, on your tenth date as least. It was a comfortable feeling.
“Do you have any plans for the upcoming break?” You ask, taking a bite of a strawberry. “I was planning to go home, be with my parents and hang out with the guys. Riki has been bothering me about wanting to go out play basketball lately,” he laughs quietly at the thought, his smile turning into a teasing grin when his eyes land on yours again. “Why? Want to do something together?”
You hesitate, rethinking if it was an appropriate topic of conversation when it was only your first date but the look in his eyes reassured you that whatever you want to say, he isn’t going to run away. “I might have mentioned you to my mom earlier today,” you admit and his eyes immediately light up. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” you breathe out. “Said that you’re an annoying little puppy that has been following me around for weeks,” you stick out your tongue, making him laugh. “Yeah, and what else?” He teases, leaning back on his elbows. Your eyes shift to something more serious but the smile on your lips never leaves. “That I like you, and hope this works out.”
“I like you too,” he says without a second of hesitation and you can feel your cheeks heating up. He said it as if it was easy, no big deal. “She told me to bring you with me,” you add, searching for any sign of discomfort in his eyes. He doesn’t budge a bit though, his smile only growing wider as he nods. “I’d like that, for sure. Riki and his basketball can wait.”
“Are you sure? You should probably be with your family. And if Riki has been asking you for so long–”
Your name leaves his lips, interrupting you. Your cheeks flush pink and you gaze into his eyes again, swallowing a lump in your throat. God, why does your name sound so good coming from his mouth? “I’d let Riki wait for the rest of my life if it means being able to spend more time with you.”
“He probably wouldn’t like hearing that,” you say, trying to mask the fact your heart is practically about to jump out of your chest. Because Jake? He had a way with words. But not only that. In the end, it came down to him as a whole. The way his eyes wandered over your body, the way he always knew what to say and do, the way he put so much effort into your first date—yeah, you did want to bring him to meet your mom. Who cared that this was only your first date? You knew it wasn’t the last.
“That’s fine. I only care about what you like hearing.” You roll your eyes at him playfully, finishing the rest of the wine you had in your glass before standing up, walking to the rooftop edge. You lean forward, looking down at the street beneath you, watching the cars drive through and people walk to their homes.
Jake admires you for a second before getting up as well, walking over to you. He hesitates for a second but then hooks his arm around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder with a smile. You freeze for a moment, slowly turning your head towards him. “Jake,” you whisper, your breath landing right on his lips. “Yeah?” Your breath hitches as you gaze into his eyes, his close presence sending shivers down your spine. Not in a bad way, though. A far from it, actually.
Your eyes flicker from his eyes to his lips and that’s all Jake needs before quickly spinning you around so your body would face him. He doesn’t wait for anything anymore and crashes his lips with yours, his hands coming to hold your head. His thumb brushes over your cheek as he pulls you closer to himself, kissing you as if you were the air he breathes. As if you were the only person in the world.
And you kiss him back with just as much passion, one of your hands resting on his chest while the other holds onto his shirt, keeping him as close as possible. His right hand slowly moves down to explore the curves of your body, fingers digging into the skin on your waist in an almost possessive way. You moan under his touch, never pulling away, not even as his hand slides lower, wandering over your thigh before holding onto it, making you raise your leg and wrap it around him.
“Fuck, wait,” Jake is the first to pull away, breathles as his fingers dig into the flesh of your thigh, still holding your leg around his waist. “Wait,” he repeats, resting his forehead against yours. He closes his eyes, a soft groan leaving his lips. Your eyes widen, and even though he told you to wait, you kiss him again, the little sound he left out driving you crazy.
Your body fits perfectly with his and you melt into him, the movements so natural you forget this is the first time your lips met him for a moment. Jake pulls away again, stopping you before things can turn in the wrong direction. Because fuck. He felt that kiss in every part of his body.
“What’s wrong?” You frown, slowly standing on both of your feet again. “Nothing!” He panics immediately, his eyes shooting up to meet yours. “No, this was– This was perfect, like I can’t even–” You chuckle as he stutters, trying to find the right words. His cheeks have turned pink, making him cuter than you’d admit. “I just,” he clears his throat, trying to regain his composure. “I don’t want our first date to go like that.”
You raise an eyebrow at that before it finally clicks and you realize what he’s referring to. Your eyes soften, your lips turning into a smile. You can see it all in his eyes, the way he holds himself back, the way he eats your whole body with his eyes and yet, still only thinks about how to make your date perfect.
“Alright, but what if I want to kiss you again?”
“Then I’ll try really hard not to get hard.”
You chuckle, the smile staying on your lips as you watch him. “Come here,” you say and he closes the space between you again. You place a soft kiss on his cheek, your hands resting on his shoulders. “Thank you. For trying so hard and making this the best first date I’ve been on.” You pull back again, scanning his features for a second. He looks proud of himself but also genuinely happy, his cheeks still slightly pink. You walk past him, getting back to the blanket while he stands still, thinking about everything that just happened.
You glance over your shoulder at him, smiling. “Let’s go?” He nods, catching up to you and casually throwing his jacket over your shoulders as you crouch down to clean up. “Come on, I got it,” he says, squatting beside you and filling the baskets again with the food you haven’t finished.
“You’re going to be cold,” you mumble as you stand up again and let him pick it all up. He only throws you a glance and you squeeze the jacket around your shoulder tighter, ignoring the way your heart tries to get out of your chest.
Jake leaves everything in his car and walks you up to your dorm, lingering in the doorway. “If you want to come inside, I wouldn’t mind,” you offer, opening your door. He smiles as he looks you up and down, taking the sight of you into his head once more. “I’ll come inside another time. If we win our next game. I can promise you that,” he answers, and you roll your eyes at him, masking the fact that maybe you wouldn’t mind that.
“You’ll have to dream about that.”
“Oh, trust me, I will.”
You smile, “Good night, Jake.”
Jake smiles as well, a soft genuine smile you could find yourself falling for. “Good night, love.”
On Monday afternoon, you spend a little too long in the bathroom and your roommates notice, watching you from the doorway with curious expressions. You sigh, turning to them. “I’m overthinking it,” you breathe out and Manon nods immediately. “What’s going on?”
“This is the first time I’m going to see Jake since our date. I don’t know, I’m nervous!” You explain, groaning. Daniella only laughs at you, shaking her head. “So? You’ll watch him be all hot on the ice, take a few funny videos and then you can make out with him against the plexiglass. What’s the big deal?”
You roll your eyes at her, pushing past them and stepping out of the bathroom. “How am I supposed to just be there and act all normal around him? What if his teammates know?” You quickly shoot them a glance, making the two girls laugh. “Oh they definitely know,” Manon assures you. “You think he wouldn’t brag about absolutely winning you over with that date?”
“And even if he didn’t tell them, one look at you and they’ll all see you’re absolutely head over heels for him,” Dani adds, plopping down onto her bed.
“Just kill me,” you whine, jumping onto your bed as well.
But honestly, Jake should be the one you worry about the least. Because it wasn’t him who was going to be surprised to see you on the ice.
Shortly after, a loud knock on the door echoes through the dorm and Manon goes to open it, stepping aside immediately when her eyes land on the hockey captain. You hear his chuckle when he comes closer to you and when you open your eyes to look at him, his hand is reached out towards you, helping you get up. “Let’s go. I can’t be late,” his voice is soft, causing a blush to creep up your cheeks as you gently hold onto his hand. He laces your fingers together, offering your roommates a quick hello with a smile before walking off with you by his side.
You’re laughing when you enter the ice rink. Jake quickly disappears into the changing rooms but doesn’t forget to kiss you before he does, making you freeze in your place for a second as you watch him. Suddenly, you don’t feel so scared about how things were going to look like. Because with Jake, it felt easy.
Except it wasn’t.
Because as you enter the playground, your eyes fall to a person you completely forgot would be here today—your dad. Oh god. Okay. You take a deep breath as you walk towards him, preparing what you were going to say. He doesn’t notice you approaching as he focuses on his conversation with the goalie, Intak if you remember correctly. You clear your throat nervously, getting their attention. “Sorry to interrupt,” you start, watching as your dad’s eyes widen when he realizes you’re there. “I just wanted to say that I’m here.”
Intak smiles at you immediately, greeting you warmly before skating off to warm up, assuring you their conversation already ended. You finally look your dad in the eyes, catching the mixture of emotions in them. Is he mad, glad to see you, or even disappointed? You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to find the right words to say. Then, his lips curl into a smile and he pulls you into a hug, making all your worries vanish.
“What are you doing here, darling?” He asks as he takes a step back again. “Well, I know you said– I know you don’t want me here, for whatever reasons but…the guys asked me to be their media girl and I thought– it was a way to get back again,” you start blurting out words, unsure if they even make sense, avoiding eye contact as you wonder what he’s going to do. Kick you out, remind you you’re not supposed to be here? Whatever it is, you don’t want to hear it.
But then he says what you least expected. “Angel, it’s fine,” he chuckles. “I know I…told you not to come here anymore but I’m glad you’re here.”
“You are?” Your eyes lit up with a spark of hope. “How could I not be? You’re my daughter, I’m not going to say no to hanging out with you. And also, your mom has been all over me lately, telling me I’ve gone too far and should let you come here when the ice is free,” he sighs.
“Why didn’t you want me here in the first place?” You wonder hesitantly, watching his smile fall, catching a spark of regret in his expression. “It was stupid,” he admits. “I’ve realized that right after I’ve done it. I just thought that now you’re all grown up you…”
Before he can finish, another voice interrupts him and you feel a familiar arm hook around your waist. “Coach! I see you’re already getting to know our new addition to the team, this is–”
“Hands off my daughter, Sim. Immediately,” your dad commands, his eyes darkening as he watches his captain pull you close so naturally.
Jake’s eyes widen and he obeys right away, blinking a few times as he places the pieces together. “Your daughter?” He asks, trying to remain calm. But honestly, he was far from that. “You didn’t know?” He frowns, scanning the boy with his dark eyes. “Uhm, no, sir,” Jake answers, quickly glancing at you for some sort of explanation. You just swallow a lump in your throat, trying to figure out what even is the right thing to say at the moment.
“Dad, stop. He did nothing wrong.”
“This is exactly why I didn’t want you on my ice.”
You frown, a part of you mad at your dad again. Because what did that even mean? That his reason behind forbidding you to skate was even stupider than he made it seem seconds ago? “What, Jake? The guys? You can’t be serious, right?”
“I am serious. These guys are exactly what I’ve tried to keep you away. I know them, know what they are like. These players scream trouble.”
You scoff, “ironic coming from a NHL player, don’t you think?” Unbelievable. You turn to face Jake, ready to assure him, tell him to ignore your dad, but before you can even as much reach for his hand, he steps away, his gaze fixated on his coach. “I’m sorry. I’m gonna…start the practice,” he excuses himself quickly, disappearing without a single glance in your direction.
If you were mad before? You’re furious now. “Great. Really great, dad. Thanks for ruining all the good things in my life. As if taking skating from me for months wasn’t already enough.” Before he can say anything, argue or apologize, you’re already on your way out of the complex, ignoring his calls after you.
You manage to bump into Heeseung on your way out, mumbling a quiet sorry as you try to move past him. He frowns, stopping you. “You okay?” He asks but you just brush him off, sparing him just one simple glance before he moves aside, letting you leave. When you step out, you realize it was so easy because there are tears in your eyes.
You wipe them off with the back of your hand, cursing yourself out. You’re not sure why you’re crying, if it’s all the frustration building up in you, your hormones making fun of you, or because Jake, the boy who made you feel so good in the past few weeks, has just acted like he barely knew you.
You hated the feeling.
Heeseung quickly blurts out an apology as he steps on the ice, frowning when he sees no one is paying him any attention. He skates towards the others, raising an eyebrow confusedly at the way the coach’s eyes stay glued to Jake, following his every movement. “Jake!” He calls after him, bringing him back to reality. “What?” Jake blinks a few times, subconsciously glancing at the coach nervously before focusing on his friend.
“What did you do? Why did I just see your girlfriend run out of here crying?” He questions and Jake’s eyes widen immediately. He doesn’t even care to correct Heeseung that you’re not his girlfriend as he asks a different question, “she was crying?”
“Yeah, man. I don’t know what happened but she looked…sad, broken I’d say even.” Jake’s hand clenches into a fist, partly mad at himself for disappearing like that before and partly just…worried. Whatever it is that got you feeling like this, he hates it. And he hates himself even more, knowing he might be the reason.
Jake is out of focus for the rest of the training, too lost to even notice the coach yelling at him for being on a completely different side than he should be. It’s all in a blur, the whole training, the way he crashes with Taehyun as they do speed drills (Jake’s fault, no doubt), and even the way some of the guys ask him why you’re not here and if you’ve already decided you don’t want to be their media girl.
His head is fully occupied with the thought of you, the way you tried to reach for his hand before but he just stepped back, the way you looked at him when the coach said something about Jake not being good enough (he didn’t but that was how Jake interpreted it), and the way you had kissed him just a few days ago.
So, naturally, when practice came to an end, he tried to get off the ice as soon as possible, needing to see you, talk to you, apologize, and kiss you again.
But he had to freeze mid movement as the coach’s voice rang in his ears, calling after him. Jake made a spin, a soft sigh escaping his lips when he saw the look on his face. “Get changed and come see me in my office, Sim.”
“Yes, sir,” Jake mumbles back, no questions needed. It was way too obvious what he wanted to talk about.
“What did you do?” Keeho asks curiously, glancing at the captain as he takes his gear off. “Don’t even ask,” Jake groans, sitting down in his place. “Did you guys know she is his daughter?” He shoots them all a look, the hidden desperation to find out he wasn’t the only one out of the picture passing by unnoticed. “Who?” Kai frowns confusedly.
“Guess. Maybe the only girl Jake ever flirted with?” Taehyun chuckles, making Jake roll his eyes. “She isn’t the only girl I ever flirted with,” he argues but Taehyun doesn’t care enough to argue back. He just shakes his head, gently patting his shoulder as he moves to the showers.
“She’s the coach’s daughter?” Jay speaks up, getting Jake’s attention immediately as he nods fiercely. “Apparently! He almost killed me when I put my hand around her waist earlier!”
“And what did you do?” Intak eyed him from across the room. “Left,” he answers, so quietly the guys around him almost don’t hear him. Heeseung, however, catches it, his eyes widening. “You what?! Is that why she was crying?”
“I don’t know!” Jake groans, hiding his face in his hands. “And now coach wants to speak with me as well. I don’t want to speak to him! What if he kills me?”
“Should have thought about that before you made moves,” Intak snickers, disappearing into the showers as well.
Slowly, everyone gets into the showers so they can be back at their dorms sooner but Jake takes his sweet time, delaying the meeting for as long as possible. However, when Huening peeks back into the dressing room a few minutes after he’s left to inform Jake about the fact the coach looks impatient, he collects his things and finally makes his way out of the dressing room.
“You wanted to see me?” Jake says awkwardly as he steps into the office, placing his bag on the floor near the door but not sitting in the empty chair in front of him. All of a sudden, it didn’t feel the same as when he came into the office after practice to discuss game tactics. “You can sit down, Jake,” he says, more calm this time.
The hockey player nods hesitantly, taking a few steps forward and then sliding into the chair. He stares down at the table, thinking about what he was supposed to say, how he would explain himself. “So,” the man clears his throat and Jake finally looks up. “You’ve been…seeing my daughter?”
“Uhm,” Jake hesitates but when he sees the look on his face, he realizes lying isn’t going to get him anywhere. “Yes, I’ve– We met here a few weeks ago when I stayed late after practice to train some more.”
He hums in response, eyeing him up and down. Jake swallows a lump in his throat. “And I’d like to keep getting to know her if that’s okay with you.” The coach stays quiet for a while, his brows furrowed into the same thoughtful look he always had while watching a team’s gameplay and figuring out what they could do to stop them. It makes Jake nervous.
“And you’re the guy my wife told me about before? The one she had a date with this weekend?”
“That would be me,” he nods.
“What did you do?”
“We had dinner together, sir.”
“And then?”
“I…took her back to her dorm. Walk her to the door and then we parted ways.”
“You didn’t come in?”
“No, sir,” Jake answers, frowning slightly. “I was respectful the whole time,” he adds, leaving out the fact he almost got a boner after kissing you. That definitely wasn’t something he’d want to discuss with your father.
He hums again, not saying anything else.
“I want you to keep your distance,” he proclaims suddenly, making Jake’s eyes widen. “What?”
“You heard me, didn’t you? You have games to focus on, tactics to go through and teammates that rely on you. You need to have a clear head with no distractions if you want to take it somewhere.”
Jake wants to argue, say that you’re not a distraction, that he can easily play as well as he did until now and still be a good boyfriend to you, but when he sees the firm look on his coach’s face, one telling him that it’s already decided and he can’t do anything about it, he only squeezes his hand into a fist, gripping tightly onto his pants as if that could possibly ground him.
“You can go now,” he says but it’s more like a command, telling him to get out of his sight. “I’ll see you on Wednesday, rest well.”
“Right,” Jake mumbles, the sound coming out more grumpy than he’d intended for it to. He doesn’t care to apologize though, pushing the chair back and getting out of the office as soon as he can, almost forgetting to grab his bag on his way out.
Jake [19:52]: I’m sorry
Jake [19:52]: for brushing you off like that before
You stare at his messages for a few seconds, squeezing the phone tight in your hands as if that could make them go away. Well, maybe if you squeeze hard enough they will. You sigh, turning it off. You’re not even sure what or who you’re mad at but the feeling sits on your shoulders, reading the messages with you and it makes you feel even worse.
Manon looks at you from across the room, glancing at Daniella before they both walk over to you, sitting on your side each and pulling you into a hug. You chuckle softly but in reality, it comes out broken. “Men are idiots.”
“Absolutely,” Manon agrees, her grip tightening just a little. You smile, allowing yourself to melt in their warm embrace. “Yeah but one of them is my dad and the other a boy I really want to keep in my life.”
“And that’s fine, just–” before Dani can finish her sentence, probably say something about how there will be more men interested in you and that Jake doesn’t have to be the one you settle for, your phone lights up again with another message from him.
Jake [19:55]: Your dad held me after practice, wanted to talk to me
You blink, ignoring Daniella’s frown and unlocking your phone immediately.
you [19:55]: About?
Jake [19:55]: Us
Jake [19:55]: He asked me about our date
Jake [19:55]: What we did and then basically if we slept together
you [19:56]: what did you tell him?
Jake [19:56]: The truth
Jake [19:56]: That I took you back home and left immediately after
you [19:57]: hm
Jake [19:57]: I’m sorry, Bambi
Jake [19:57]: I planned on running to you right after practice
you [19:59]: But you didn’t
Jake [19:59]: your dad told me to stop seeing you
Your heart drops when you read the last text, part of you mad at your father, the other just disappointed. Because if your dad telling him to stop was enough for him to actually do so, then maybe you were wrong about him all along.
Jake [20:00]: he practically told me that if I want to play I have to
“My dad is officially not an actual person,” you groan dramatically, showing the text messages to your two friends. Dani reads through them with a frown, judging every word silently.
you [20:01]: Are you going to listen to him?
Jake [20:01]: I don’t know
You want to tell him that if he’s even thinking about it then you should put an end to whatever it is that’s between you two, you should tell him that but as you watch the three dots appear and disappear all over again, you decide you can’t.
So instead, you change the topic of your discussion, acting as if nothing happened. You can sense that Jake is somewhat relieved when you do but it lingers in the air for the rest of the conversation. How could it not?
You know Dani judges you when she sits at her bed again and focuses back on her work but you try to ignore it, focusing on Manon’s support as she encourages you to text him, and then eventually, when the clock hits eleven, forcing you to talk about the elephant in the room as well.
You sigh but listen anyway, your fingers hesitantly moving across your phone keyboard. And so, you talk about it. About what your father said, how you feel about it, and how Jake wants to do the complete opposite of what his coach told him to. It makes you smile.
you [23:26]: How about this
you [23:26]: We can pretend to listen to him
Jake [23:26]: I’m listening
Jake [23:26]: Enlighten me princess
you [23:27]: Shut up
you [23:27]: Around him, I can pretend I’m mad at you
you [23:27]: And we won’t talk
you [23:27]: You’ll simply act like he asked you to
you [23:28]: while in private…
Jake [23:28]: We continue seeing each other
you [23:28]: exactly
Jake [23:28]: I can definitely work with that
Jake [23:29]: it’s not like I want him around on our dates anyway
Jake [23:29]: Even less if I’m coming in you like I promised
You roll your eyes at him, ignoring the smile that spreads across your lips as you read his messages. Who cares what your father thinks. If Jake is supposed to scream trouble, you’ll gladly listen to it all.
The following days pass by exactly how you planned. You stay as the team’s media girl, talking to your dad as if nothing ever happened and acting as if Jake didn’t exist. And then, in private, you make use of all the time you can get together.
“Missed you,” Jake mumbles as his lips crash with yours, guiding you towards his bed. You smile into the kiss, your hand finding a few hair strands and tugging at them slightly. He groans, sending a shiver down your spine. “You were with me the whole evening,” you remind him, holding onto his collar as you sit down on his bed, bringing him down with you. “That’s different,” he argues, stealing another kiss from you.
His hand grips onto your waist, keeping you as close as possible, his lips never leaving yours. “Well, if you want to be with me more, feel free to tell my dad,” you smirk, pushing him off slightly. He frowns, “don’t talk about my coach while being in my bed.” You giggle, a soft sound that makes Jake’s heart skip a beat.
“Then talk about what you want to talk about,” you tease, moving back until your back hits the wall. He immediately moves to sit in front of you, his hands gently parting your legs so he can move between them, coming closer as he kisses you again with so much need it causes a moan to escape your lips.
“Be my girlfriend,” he says between kisses, squeezing your tights firmly. Your eyes widen immediately but the surprise vanishes when you see his sincere eyes, waiting for your answer, his thumb gently stroking your skin. “That’s how you ask a girl you like?” You tease him, trying to ignore the butterflies forming in your stomach.
“Please,” your name on his lips makes you weak every time but now that he has that look in his eyes—the one that makes you want to kiss him until neither of you is able to breathe—it makes it even harder for you not to jump him immediately. “Let me take care of you, cherish you, and make you smile every day as your boyfriend. Because as much as I love this, I want to be yours completely.”
By the time he finishes his sentence, you’re already pulling him in for another kiss, your cheeks completely red and your heart beating faster than before. Because, god, Jake Sim was going to be the end of you. “Yeah, I’d like that,” you say and he immediately cups your face, pulling you even closer than before, his body fully on yours now.
His hand moves down again, his fingers gently wandering under your shirt when the door swings open and you quickly push him off, turning your head to see who came in. “God, get your own room for this,” Jay groans, closing the door behind himself. Jake sighs, running a hand through his hair before glancing at you, giving you one of his boyish grins. Your breath hitches for just a second before you clear your throat, recollecting yourself.
“I thought you would be out,” Jake shrugs, moving to sit beside you, casually hooking his arm around your shoulders. You smile at him and shake your head slightly. “It’s fine, I should go anyway. I still have stuff to learn.” He turns his head to you to argue but when he sees your soft, reassuring smile, he just nods. “Text me later?”
“Of course,” you nod, leaning closer to place one last kiss on his lips before standing up. “Don’t kill Jay while I’m gone.”
“I’ll try,” Jake promises with a laugh, watching you leave the dorm with a smile.
“Sorry, man. I didn’t know you two would be here. Put a sock on the knob next time or something,” Jay sighs, throwing his bag onto his bed. Jake just shakes his head, brushing him off by saying it’s fine. “Sunghoon has practice later and I have a date so if you want, the room will be free then.”
“You’ve heard the lady, she has work to do,” Jake chuckles. “But thanks, I’ll figure something out.”
Jake must have been the luckiest person to ever live because what were the chances of having an empty dorm and a girlfriend who loves to make him go crazy?
Jake [21:05]: Still studying?
He waits for an answer for a few minutes, trying to focus on his own work but honestly, it’s impossible. He reaches for his phone to check his messages when it suddenly lights up, announcing that you answered. He doesn’t hesitate at all as he opens your conversation, his eyes widening when he sees the picture you’ve sent him.
It’s simple; you lying in your bed, your hair a mess on your pillow with your lips slightly parted, your eyes piercing at him through the screen. He groans as he watches you, his eyes falling to your bare shoulders. You’re in a white tank top, the straps falling off your shoulders enough for him to picture how you’d look with nothing to cover your body.
Before he can do anything about it, he remembers how you laid in his bed just mere hours ago, thinking about how it’d feel to have you here again. You, bend over this very desk he’s been sitting at for the past hours, when he finally gets to touch you in a way he dreamed of from the very first moment he laid his eyes on you. He can hear you moaning his name and groans, sliding his hand between his legs.
He palms himself at the thought of you, your pretty eyes looking at him as he slides his tongue between your folds, knowing you taste incredible. He closes his eyes shut, his brows furrowing as he thinks about you in his bed, screaming for him to slow down to loudly all the kids on this floor would know just how good he makes you feel.
He thinks about you in every part of his dorm, the shower, where he helps you wash up just for his cock to find your hole again, at the entrance where you’re so impatient you can’t even wait to get to his bed before you wrap yourself around him, even on the floor, sucking him off under the table while he tries to focus on the new hockey tactics you helped him come up with before.
He chases his high as he thinks about what kind of face you make when you come, his hand moving faster, with more force. Soft moans leave his lips as he reaches the edge, his cock twitching in his hand and your name falling off his tongue before he releases, imagining it’s your mouth wrapped around him, your lips that swallow his sperm.
“Fuck,” he curses, his head falling back as he catches his breath, pushing all the dirty thoughts that still hang in his head aside as he looks at your photo again, typing his answer.
Jake [21:17]: That’s my pretty girl
you [21:17]: Took you a while to answer for someone whose I’m supposed to be
Jake [21:17: had a problem I needed to take care of, sorry baby
Your cheeks flush red immediately when you read his message, your mind going blank. Daniella notices the shift in your behaviour but before she can say anything, you run away to the bathroom, locking the door behind you as you slide to the floor against the door, your fingers hovering over the keyboard.
you [21:18]: Show?
You bite the inside of your cheek as you wait for his response, the room getting hotter when you see a picture he sent you. You swallow hard, feeling your pussy clench around nothing but thin air as you stare at the picture of his hard cock in his hand, catching a glimpse of his cum. God.
He’s big, bigger than you expected. You slide your pants down with ease, your fingers finding your clit immediately. You bite onto your bottom lip so you wouldn’t let out any sounds, keeping your eyes on his picture.
Jake [21:20]: Feels good?
He sends the questions as he palms himself again, watching the three dots appear and disappear again. He smirks, knowing damn well what he’s doing to you.
you [21:20]: yeah
You send him a quick picture of you sitting on the floor, two fingers deep in your hole while your thumb presses against your clit. Your face is out of the picture but you know he won’t mind that, not when he now has a better material to jerk off to.
You keep your eyes on your phone, reading through his new messages as he praises you while also trying to guide you through it. It works. Too damn much, if you’re honest. You close your eyes as you feel your orgasm building up, the thought of his long fingers (that you fantasized so much about before) replacing yours sending you over the edge.
You sigh, your breathing heavy as you text him again, trying to calm down. If you don’t find a time when no one will be at the dorm quickly, you’re sure to go crazy soon.
The following Saturday you find yourself standing in the coaching box alongside your dad, watching your boyfriend and his team skate around the rink. It’s the second period already and Tigers are winning by three points but you can’t help but feel nervous every time they lose the puck. Maybe because it’s the first game you’re watching as a girlfriend of one of the players, or maybe because you know there are scouts watching the game and this could be a great opportunity for Jake (or any of his teammates).
You yell excitedly, cheering them on as you see the number four pass by two defenders all alone, the nervousness building up in you as you watch Jake make it to the goal. “Come on, come on,” you mumble as he shoots, praying for the puck to make it in. “Yes!” The whole team yells at the same time as Jake scores another point for them.
The buzzer announcing the period end rings in your ear and you watch Jake skate towards the bench as quickly as he can, wishing to do nothing more than to pull you into the warmest hug he can. However, before he can do anything stupid, his coach pulls him into a hug instead, patting Jake’s back while praising him about the goal he just made.
Still, his eyes stay glued to you, his coach’s words passing unnoticed by him. You smile at him, jokingly rolling your eyes when you see your dad. Jake chuckles, taking a step back and finally looking at the coach.
“Thanks, coach,” he laughs before his teammates pull him into another hug. Your dad walks back to you, smiling proudly. “He’s going to take it far. If he’s lucky the scouts are all already writing his name down.” You smile as well, glancing at Jake for a brief second before you mask your excitement again. “Yeah, he isn’t all bad,” you mumble, making sure not to pay him more attention than absolutely necessary. Because if Jake’s truly lucky, your dad won’t notice the way his eyes linger on you throughout the whole fifteen minute break.
The third period passes in a blur, ending with the Tigers’ win eventually. You watch as Jake and Heeseung find each other when the game ends, laughing as they pull each other into a hug. Huening and Jay skate to them immediately after, the rest of the guys following as soon as they can, jumping from the bench and skating to them to celebrate. You smile, a proud genuine smile your dad hasn’t seen on your face in what feels like ages. At that moment, it was completely clear to him that forbidding you from stepping on the ice was a bad idea all along. Because this was where you belonged, in the stands, watching his team take home another win just like you always had.
“God, you were so pretty standing there and cheering me on,” Jake mumbles against your lips as he kisses you again, his hands wandering under your shirt. Your back hits the wall as he cups your breast in his hand, moving to kiss your jaw. “Are you sure no one’s here?” You ask, tilting your head slightly to give him more space as he moves lower, placing wet kisses on your neck.
“The guys are all long gone. I told them not to wait for me,” he says and you gasp as you feel his teeth on your skin. The game ended almost an hour ago, no one should be at the rink anymore. Yet, you couldn’t shake off the feeling that you could get caught any minute. Even though the changing rooms were more private than the game area, it still felt too exposed. You just want to take him back home with you but you know that isn’t possible, not when both of your roommates are there.
With the way he sucks onto your neck he’ll definitely leave hickeys but you’re not in the right mind to care enough, so, instead of telling him to be careful not to leave any visible marks, your hand finds his hair and you keep him in place, a soft moan escaping your lips at the feeling. He smirks, rolling up your shirt to get a better view. “Remember my promise?”
“That you’d come inside of me if you win the game? Very clearly,” you assure him, your breath hitching when his cold fingers wander over your bare skin. He smirks as he watches you, his hand moving to your back, holding onto your bra clips. “Can I take this off?” You nod, your eyes following his every movement. He’s hot with his hair still wet from his previous shower, standing in front of you in that annoyingly handsome tank top of his.
He unclips your bra, letting it fall to the floor. He groans at the sight, feeling his cock twitch in his pants. But just as he leans down, cupping one of your breasts with his hand and kissing the other one, the door swings open and he is quick to fix your shirt so that whoever just walked in won’t see what’s meant for his eyes only. Probably a cleaning lady, he forgot about the possibility of one of them coming in. Still though, how unlucky did he have to be to be interrupted both times he was about to be intimate with you?
He opens his eyes, ready to apologize to the lady for still being here but he stops when his eyes land on a male figure instead, the words catching in his throat.
“What the hell is going on here?” Your father’s voice rings in your ears and you quickly stumble forward to collect your bra from the floor, hiding behind your boyfriend to put it back on. Jake clears his throat in the meantime, opening his mouth and closing it again because truly, he had no idea what the appropriate answer to that question was.
“Sim?” His voice is stronger now, sending shivers down Jake’s spine. “We uhm– this isn’t–” he tries to figure something out but when he comes to the conclusion there’s no possible way out of this, he closes his mouth again.
He calls out your name next and you squeeze your eyes shut as you take a step forward again, standing by Jake’s side. “We are going home. Now. And you, Sim,” he turns to him again, staring a hole in the middle of his eyes. “We will talk about this later. I thought you had a good shot at making it somewhere but you– don’t expect to play on my team again.”
“What?!” You and Jake shout at the same time. You immediately look at him, your eyes full of regret while his just show…fear, vulnerability. You hate seeing that. “You can’t be serious!” you yell, looking at your father again. “You can’t– He is your best player! You’ve seen him play today! You hugged him and called him son!” you remind him but your dad just scoffs. “I’m not talking to you about this. Take your things and get to the car. End of discussion.”
“No, you–” you try to argue again but Jake stops you, holding your hand in his and making you look at him. “It’s fine, darling,” he assures you, giving you one of his smiles, except this time it not only feels but also looks forced. You open your mouth again but he leans down and presses his lips on yours, squeezing your hand tightly so you’d know he is there. “I don’t regret you in the tiniest bit,” he says gently, slowly letting you go. The pain in his eyes makes it feel like your heart is being ripped out of your chest and there is nothing you can do about it. You hate the feeling.
“Go,” he nods, mouthing the words “text you” as he places his hand on your lower back and guides you forward until you finally move on your own, stopping only once you reach your dad. “Fuck you,” you look him straight in the eyes with not a single care in the world before walking past him to get outside.
Jake exhales deeply, running a hand through his hair. “I love her,” he proclaims confidently, catching his coach off guard. Your dad stands at the door, still trying to make sense of what just happened and if you really cussed him out. He focuses on Jake again, his glare never falling. “And honestly, I don’t care if you won’t let me play because of it. But we both know Heeseung won’t perform that well without his duo and it’ll only be a matter of time before the team falls.”
“Are you threatening me?” He raises an eyebrow in disbelief.
“No. That’s your hobby lately, don’t you think?” Jake doesn’t say anything else, taking all his things along with your jacket that you left just lying on one of the benches and making his way past the coach. He stops again in the doorway, hesitating for a second. “I won’t stop seeing her.”
“Right,” the coach mumbles but all the confidence he had while yelling at the two before is gone, replaced with uncertainty and fear. “Good luck with the rest of the season,” Jake adds, the genuinity in his voice only pissing off the coach more.
The door closes again and just like that, he’s standing there alone. He needs to blink a few times to gain control again because everything about this conversation was only proving him of the fact he had no control anymore. His little girl was growing up faster than he could comprehend, and his team was slipping through his fingers just as fast. He knew what Jake was like and that he had a great potential to continue with hockey and honestly, he wasn’t sure if he was protecting his daughter’s future on Jake’s.
“Darling,” he breathes out as he slides into the driver’s seat. You don’t turn to look at your dad though, focusing solely on the game on your phone. He sighs, running a hand through his hair before fastening his seatbelt. “I’m just looking out for you. You have the whole life ahead of you, so many opportunities and goals to still achieve.”
You scoff, ending the game and switching to instagram to scroll through new posts, not paying him the slightest bit of attention. Your childhood nickname falls from his lips and you squeeze your phone tighter, holding onto the last bit of strength you had. He sighs again, starting the car and driving off the parking lot.
You sit in silence, still on your phone and texting Jake to even notice the road you’re taking, ignoring the way you catch your dad’s eyes in the rearview mirror every now and then.
you [14:26]: The worst card ride ever
Jake [14:26]: it’ll be fine love
Jake [14:26]: you just need to make it back to the dorm and then we can go out
Jake [14:26]: I’ll take you out on dinner, hm?
Jake [14:26]: what do you say?
you [14:27]: I say that I’d absolutely love that
Jake [14:27]: okay good <3
Jake [14:27]: I need to give you back your jacket anyway
It’s only then that you notice the missing piece of clothes, smiling as you read his messages. No matter how mad you were seconds ago, he managed to calm you down in the single minute you talked with him. And that was something you weren’t giving up on, no matter how much your dad wanted you to.
you [14:28]: Shouldn’t it be me stealing your clothes sir?
Jake [14:28]: Just say a word and all my hoodies are yours
Jake [14:28]: I’d actually kill to see you in my clothes
Jake [14:28]: Please
You giggle, stretching your legs slightly. Your dad looks at you immediately, the grip he has on the steering wheel tightening as he notices Jake’s name on your screen, a mix of emotions rushing through him. He wants to be happy for you, cheer you on in your relationship if he had you smiling like this, but he just can’t push aside the thoughts of what the future holds. You being with Jake could make him give up his career for you or it could make you give up on your dreams in order to support him just like your mom did, and he would hate for that to happen.
you [14:29]: That could be arranged
you [14:29]: If we happen to go back to your dorm after dinner and casually decide to sleep over I’ll need to wear something
Jake [14:29]: I’m telling the guys to find a different place to sleep at tonight
Jake [14:29]: Can’t let them see that
The smile on your lips never leaves, not even when you finally look up from your phone and see the unfamiliar road, frowning. “Where are you taking me?”
“Home,” he answers simply and it takes you a second he isn’t talking about your dorm. “What? I have plans, I don’t have time to drive home and back.”
“You should have thought about that before I saw you half naked with my player,” he says through gritted teeth, more judging than he intended. He’s not sure why he says it in the first place. He really wants to reconcile with you, forget about the whole thing and act like nothing happened but for some reason, every time he opens his mouth, the wrong words come out.
“I’m an adult!” you remind him, looking at the time on your phone. “You can’t be fucking serious.”
“Language!” You huff, taking a deep breath as you finally turn your head to face him fully. “The fact you’re mad at me doesn’t mean you’ll be speaking to me like that.”
You don’t say anything back, writing Jake a quick text explaining the situation before turning your phone off and placing it down in your lap, crossing your arms as you watch the road ahead. If he wanted to kidnap you then so be it. It’s not like you would sit around saying nothing forever.
“Honey, how come you’re so late?” Your mother’s voice makes you look up as you step out of the car, her eyes lighting up immediately the moment she sees you. You smile, greeting her warmly and walking over to her. “What are you doing here? I need to cook something for dinner! You’re staying, right?” She asks, hopeful and excited. You chuckle, nodding. “I didn’t plan on visiting this weekend but dad kidnapped me so I had no choice,” you shoot him a look but he ignores it, taking his things from the car and coming to greet his wife with a kiss.
“Kidnapped her?” She asks confusedly but he just brushes it off, saying that you’re talking nonsense. You scoff, moving past both of your parents inside the house. It’s been around a month since you last came by, with school and Jake keeping you busy, there wasn’t a chance for it before. And even though you didn’t want to be here, you would be lying if you said you don’t like being home.
You pull out your phone again, glancing back to make sure your parents are still outside before you start a video call. You don’t even have a chance to fix your hair or make sure you look good when the call goes through, Jake’s face lighting up your screen immediately. You smile, a soft “hi” leaving your lips. “You ran away or something?” He asks after a greeting.
Rolling your eyes, you glance behind yourself again before walking towards your room. “No, I successfully made it home. Want to see my room?” You ask but before he can even answer you enter the room, giving him a quick tour when he says he needs to see every corner, mentioning something about how a childhood bedroom creates a character and he needs to see everything. He’s a bit weird but honestly, you couldn’t find him more attractive.
You sit down on your bed, resting your head against the headboard, watching him talk about how the guys jumped at him the moment he stepped into his room, congratulating him on his play. The excitement in his eyes as he talks about hockey makes your heart melt, until you remember your dad’s words. Don’t expect to play on my team again.
Hockey was his whole life, the thing he was the most excited about, something he spent every free minute thinking about, you couldn’t be the reason why it was taken from him. You’d rather never step on the ice again yourself if it meant he could still play.
“Heeseung said that he spoke to one of the scouts after the game, apparently they are thinking about me!” He grins and you can’t help but smile. “That’s amazing, Jake. I knew you could do it from the moment I first saw you.” He gives you a look but the smile never leaves his lips. “You told me I’m terrible and need to fix everything.”
You shrug, laughing. “Yeah, that was me telling you I think you’re amazing.”
“So you were in love with me back then,” he teases, making you roll your eyes again. You open your mouth to answer but a soft knock on the door interrupts you. You give Jake a quick look so he stays quiet and watch the door open, your mom walking in with her usual gentle smile.
“Is that the boyfriend of yours?” She asks, immediately noticing the cause of your smile. You nod, biting the inside of your cheek. She walks over to you, sitting down on the edge of your bed. “Can I?” You don’t hesitate before moving closer to her, holding the phone so Jake could see both of you. He immediately greets her, the boyish grin on his face making you roll your eyes. “Jake, was it?” she questions and he introduces himself fully, saying that he’d offer her a hand as well had it been a different situation. It’s lame but she laughs nonetheless. “Well, we can shake hands when you come to visit next week. My daughter told you about it, right?”
“She did,” he nods. “And I’d love to come, if I’m welcome to, I mean.”
“Dear, of course! I wouldn’t have invited you if you weren’t.”
“Dad isn’t a big fan,” you mumble, causing Jake to chuckle and your mom turn to you. “He met him before I could?” There’s a hint of betrayal in her voice but you already know that once she knows the full story it will be replaced with something else—disappointment. Not towards you, but your father.
“Jake is on his team, the captain.”
“Was,” Jake corrects and you roll your eyes again. “I was on the team, but Coach kicked me out today.”
Your mother’s brows furrow, already sensing something iffy about it. “Why would he do that?”
“Ask him, I’d love to know the reason as well,” you say, getting more and more annoyed as you speak. You sigh, running a hand through your hair to calm yourself. “Let’s not talk about it now, though. And for your information,” you turn towards Jake again, a shy smile spread across your face. “I’d love to have you here.”
“Then I’ll definitely come,” he assures both of you, watching as your mom’s smile grows wider. She sits there with you for a bit longer, asking Jake about all sorts of things and watching you interact together, somehow feeling proud. She always wished you the best in life, and from what she saw in the short moments, Jake was exactly that.
She goes to leave the room but stops again as her hand grabs the doorknob, glancing back at you one last time. “I’m not sure what you and your dad did to each other but I don’t want to stir the pot even more so, honey, try to cover that hickey of yours so he doesn’t have a reason to freak out,” she winks at you before disappearing from the room.
Your cheeks grow red from embarrassment as you lean closer to your phone, looking at the hickey Jake has left on your neck in your front camera. He laughs on the other side of the phone, saying that it looks great but you only send him a pointed look. You groan, “I’m going to strangle you, Jake Sim.” It’s a threat, but he smiles. “With your thighs I hope.”
You close your eyes, exhaling tiredly but Jake notices your lips twitch as you try to hold back your smile. He knows he’s got you exactly where he wants.
You spend another thirty minutes on the call with him before finally stumbling out of your room as the smell of chicken hits your nose. Your dad tells you to sit that as he plates everything so you do, playing with your sleeve awkwardly.
The food is set on the table soon after and your parents both sit opposite you, your mom asking you about exams and friends casually while your dad eats in silence, humming sometimes as a form of response.
You stare at your plate for a few seconds before deciding to look up, catching your dad’s eyes at the same time. He sighs, visibly exhausted. You’re not sure if it’s because of the continuous arguing with you or just today’s game, though. “You didn’t mean it, did you? That you’re not going to let him play anymore.”
Something flickers in his eyes, a moment of hesitance, regret maybe, you don’t know. He doesn’t answer, just putting another piece of meat into his mouth. You don’t just let it go like he seems to want, though. “He is your best player and you know it. You can’t kick him out just because he is dating your daughter instead of being fucking happy for me.”
That seems to work because he winces, finally looking at you, really looking at you. “Darling,” your mom coos softly, tilting her head slightly, almost as if to tell you to calm down. You shake your head, refusing to drop the conversation. “I’ll…I won’t go on the ice ever again like you wanted, I won’t be near when you have practices and I’ll stop coming to games just please.” The plea sends a shiver down his spine, making him drop his fork on the table.
“I don’t want you to give up on skating for him.”
“So you’d rather make him give up on his whole future for me? Because we both know he doesn’t plan on leaving. If he did, he wouldn’t have talked to me again after you told him to stop seeing me the first time. And honestly, I don’t want to leave either.”
“You did what?” Your mother turns her attention to your dad immediately, slapping him across his shoulder. “That poor boy does nothing but make our daughter happy and you told him to stop seeing her?” You knew that if someone was going to have your back it’d be your mom but you didn’t expect her to be so into it. She didn’t know Jake. There was no reason for her to get all worked up and start a whole argument with him.
But, you weren’t going to stop her.
You watch your parents argue for a while, your mom telling your dad he’s unreasonable and should finally realize you’re an adult while he tells her something about thinking about the future of the both of you, which only makes things worse. They start arguing about how their situation used to be similar and he doesn’t want you to go through the same thing your mom did but you disappear then, figuring that’s not a conversation you should be a part of.
Later that night, a knock on the door makes you look up from your phone. You expect it to be your mom, after all, it’s always been her who talked to you after they had arguments when you were little, wanting you to know it was all okay and you didn’t need to worry about anything, but when the door opens, it’s your dad you see standing there. You sit up, nodding for him to come in. He sighs, closing the door behind himself as he pulls out a chair from your table, placing it right in front of your bed and taking a seat.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, running a hand through his hair. You frown, not saying anything as you watch him, waiting for him to say more, explain himself. “I know it’s stupid and unreasonable,” he repeats your mother’s words, his brows furrowing in a way that tells you he doesn’t completely agree with it. “You know I love you, right?” He finally looks up to meet your eyes and you nod, a part of you feeling bad when you see the look on his face. The regret you thought you saw before is now way more visible, accompanied with a sign of simple care. “And I love the boys on my team, all of them. I think…Jake is a great kid, darling.”
His words catch you off guard but you still stay quiet, knowing that’s not all he wants to say. “When me and your mom met we were around the same age as you, did you know that?” He doesn’t give you enough time to answer before he continues. “She wanted to be a doctor, she had her whole life figured out while the only thing I knew was that all I wanted to do was skate and be with her.” You smile, the thought of your parents at your age warming your heart. You can see yourself and Jake in their place. You can see Jake loving you all the years later just like your father loves your mom.
“Then I got an offer, a contract with a team I really wanted to join. It was on the other side of the country and your mom…she dropped everything without thinking about it so she could go with me. I know she doesn’t regret it now, and neither do I, but knowing she gave up her future plan for me ate me alive for years.”
“I never wanted to see you go through the same, so I did what I thought was the best at the time; told you not to skate so you couldn’t meet any hockey players that could mess with your future. I know it’s stupid, that it’s up to you what you do with your life I just…I simply didn’t want hockey to be the reason for another girl I love to lose something she’s passionate about.”
You stand up from your bed, regretting all the bad words you said about your dad in the past few days. He watches you walk over to him, waiting for you to say something, anything, but you just pull him into a hug. “I love you too, dad,” you mumble. “And I’m sorry for cussing you out before.” He chuckles softly as he pulls back, shaking his head. “I deserved it.”
“I’m not going to force Jake to leave my team, by the way. I’d be incredibly stupid to let that sort of talent escape.” You grin proudly, thanking him. “And…if it’s something you both want then,” he clears his throat, visibly stalling as he thinks it over. “Then I’d like to see him come with you next time,” he nods slightly, almost as if he was approving of his own words. “But just, please, promise me you won’t make your whole life about hockey, his games and plans. Promise me that if you stay together, you’ll figure something out while you both do what you love, even if it means being away from each other for a while.”
You nod, it’s the least you can do. “We will,” you agree.
Not having to hide a whole hockey player from your dad feels great. You still have to stay professional while filming the guys and limit Jake’s neediness while being around your dad but that’s understandable. And Jake knows that as well, still, he loves pushing the limits.
“So, you’re going to be at our game tomorrow, right?” Jake asks, his hands resting on each side of you on the bench, trapping you in. He hovers over you, and even though you want nothing more than to pull him into a make out session when he gives you that boyish grin of his again, the presence of your father next to you reminds you to think straight.
“Yeah,” you nod slightly, unable to take your eyes off him. He smirks, quickly glancing at his coach before leaning closer to you, stopping just below your ear. “And then you’ll let me go for as many rounds as I score.” He says it like it’s a deal you agreed to before but when he backs up again, there’s a question in his eyes, mixing with a sign of hope and mischief. “You better score a lot then,” you smirk, pressing your hand on his chest and pushing him off gently. “Go practice.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he does a little prince bow, winking at you once more before putting on his helmet and skating away, joining the others.
“Is Jake going to drive you afterwards or should I wait and take both of you?” Your dad asks, keeping his eyes on the boys while sitting down beside you now that Jake’s gone. “Jake will drive. I agreed to go grab some food with the team after the game so we’ll drive on our own.” He nods, glancing at you again. “And he’ll be staying the whole week?”
“The whole week,” you agree, causing a sigh to leave your dad’s lips. “In your room?” You roll your eyes, “yes, in my room. And in my bed, you’re not expecting me to make him sleep on the floor or something, are you?”
“No,” he answers through gritted teeth, making sure you know he isn’t exactly happy with the arrangements. “Just don’t…no, nevermind, I’m not talking about this,” he shakes his head aggressively. “I’ll talk to Jake instead.” Your eyes widen, realization hitting you. “Don’t talk about sex with my boyfriend!” you smack his arm.
“I need to talk to him as a worried coach to make sure my player doesn’t get a girl pregnant in his prime year,” he shoots you a pointed look and you sigh. The following week was going to test your strength and love for your father a lot.
8:00 am lights up your phone before you knock on Jake’s door, watching as it swings open immediately. Jake doesn’t hesitate before grabbing your hand and pulling you against him, your bodies colliding together. “What’s going on?” you ask, blinking a few times. “Why was I supposed to come?”
“The guys are out, they went for breakfast as Jay’s pregame ritual,” he explains, still holding your hand as he takes you towards his bed. “I’d like to start a pregame tradition with you as well,” he explains, his eyes glinting with need. “Oh?” Your lips curl into a smirk as you sit on the bed. “And what might that be?”
Jake kneels down in front of you on the floor, gently pushing your legs open, keeping his hands on your inner thighs as he looks up at you. And god damn is he the hottest person you’ve ever seen. “Can I eat you out?” You blink, feeling hotter just at the thought of that. You bite your bottom lip, slowly nodding. His smile grows wider, his eyes lighting up as if he was a little kid whose parents allowed him to eat ice cream before dinner.
He stays on the floor, sliding off your jeans, groaning quietly as his eyes land on your panties. “God, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this,” he sounds desperate and your body responds immediately. He runs his fingers over your clothed cunt and the whine that leaves his lips makes a shiver run down your spine. If this was his reaction to barely seeing you, how loud on earth was he going to be during the whole deal?
It takes no time for him to slide your panties down to your ankles, moving his head closer to you immediately, keeping his eyes on yours as he licks a long strap from your hole to your clit. “Fuck,” you moan quietly, grinding your hips against his face. He smirks, his grip on your thighs tightening as he holds you in place, firm enough so you can’t move on your own. “Relax, baby. I’m going to take my sweet time with your little pussy.”
And he does. He absolutely fucking does, to the point it drives you crazy. Your legs shake and you squirm under him as he lazily sucks on your clit. It’s torture but god, he’s also the greatest pussy eater you’ve met, definitely the most eager one from everyone you’ve been with. His whines and groans fill your ear and the only thing you can focus on is how he sounds against your wet cunt. “I’m gonna–” your breath hitches and he sucks harder. “Wait just a bit longer, baby.”
Jake’s hand slides to his pants, pulling out his throbbing cock and slowly palming himself while he brings you closer to your orgasm, his free hand still digging into the flesh of your thigh. “Need you to hold it in, love. Want to cum together,” he groans, his tongue flicking between your folds. “God, your pussy is so good.”
You whine, your eyes closed as your hand finds his head, pushing him closer against your clit, needing the release. You feel him smirk, letting his cock free for a minute as he holds you with both hands again, opening your legs wider. “Jake!”
“Fuck,” he whines again, pulling away from you completely which only causes you to whimper. “Say it again.”
“What?” You shoot your eyes to him again, shaking your head as you try to bring him closer again. You fail. “Say my name again, say it over and over again and I’ll let you cum, okay?” You nod, his name leaving your lips in a broken whine. “That’s my girl,” he smirks before dipping in again. You gasp at his harsh suck but you definitely don’t complain. “Jake, Jak–Jake–mhm.”
“Yes, baby, it’s me. I’m making you feel all good, aren’t I?” You nod fiercely, throwing your head back as you tug on his hair lightly. He whines again, finally bringing you to your climax with one last lick. Your legs tremble around his head but he doesn’t seem to mind at all, giving you a few more licks so you can ride it out before coming up to you, stealing a kiss from you immediately. “You taste fucking amazing, you feel that?”
The taste of your own cum on his lips feels weird but you never pull away from him, only deepening the kiss. You glance down quickly, finding his hand palming over his length again as he kisses you, trying to reach his own climax. You wrap your hand around his and he smirks against your lips. “Want to help with that?”
Your mouth is wrapped around his tip quickly, looking up at him as you move your head for some sort of reassurance. Which is exactly what you get as he cups your face, moaning loudly at the sight of you. He could watch you forever, especially when you’re stuffed with his cock.
“God, baby, have I told you you’re absolutely gorgeous?” He groans again and you only suck harder instead of responding. He starts blabbing things after that, soft praises leaving his lips as if it was the only thing he knew how to do. You stop paying attention to them in the middle of it but your body still responds, your pussy getting wet again.
You pull back slightly just to tease him but Jake doesn’t seem to like it much as he thrusts back into your mouth, his cock hitting the back of your throat. You gag but don’t pull back again, relaxing your mouth completely and letting him gently thrust into you on his own. He doesn’t care, closing his eyes and gently brushing his thumb on your cheek just to feel himself.
He comes down your throat slowly after and you gag again, pulling back completely before swallowing. He praises you again and again, kissing you as if you are the air he breathes. Because to him, you are. Your bodies wrap together as your kisses turn gentler, more loving.
You just lay in the bed for a while, leaving wet kisses all over each other’s bodies, leaving marks behind before Jake’s alarm rings and he takes you to the bathroom, helping you clean up in the shower. When both of you are done washing he throws a jersey over your head, making you glance down confusedly. You had your own team clothes to wear with the team logo and everything but before you could protest your eyes land on the number on the jersey, realizing it’s his.
“You want me to wear this?”
“I want everyone at the rink to know my gorgeous, talented, lovely and smart girlfriend already belongs to someone,” he whispers, capturing your lips in another kiss. You smile, nodding slightly. In that case, you were going to wear his jersey for the rest of your life.
As soon as the game ends Jake runs into your arms, picking you up and spinning around before pushing his lips against yours. You giggle, wrapping your hands around his neck and pulling him closer, deepening the kiss.
Tigers won 5-2, three of those points scored by Jake because as you later found out, he told Heeseung about your little deal and so he helped him get as many goals as possible. You don’t even care, for all you care he could have scored zero and you’d still let him have whatever he wants.
Your dad clears his throat behind you and Jake gently places you back to the ground, grinning happily. “How was that?”
“Amazing,” Taehyun pats his back from behind, the other guys slowly joining in. “As the MVP today you’re buying, right?” Heeseung wiggles his eyebrows as he wraps his arm around Jake’s shoulder, making him scoff. “I only buy food for my lover and myself, I don’t think you fit in either of those categories,” Jake shakes him off quickly. You shake your head at the interaction, the smile on your face never leaving as you congratulate them all.
Jake wraps his hand around your waist, keeping you close as he talks to his team about the game. You don’t mind at all. You wrap your arm around him as well, smiling back at his friends when they give you a teasing, knowing look. This time, your dad seems to have the same smile on his face, looking at Jake more proudly than as if it was a warning.
“Okay, go change quickly so we can go,” you say, placing a quick peck on his cheek to which Heeseung laughs with a whistle, taking your boyfriend from you. Jake mumbles something under his breath but you don’t pay it any attention, watching him leave with a smile.
“The jersey suits you,” your dad speaks all of a sudden, making you turn to him. “Yeah?” You bite your lip nervously, looking down. “Thank you. For accepting him,” you smile, looking at him again. He rolls his eyes, almost as if that wasn’t exactly true, yet. “He still needs to work for it. I’ll have my eye on him during the whole week.” You chuckle, nodding. “Have fun with that.”
It’s four pm when you finally part ways with the rest of the guys, your fingers laced with Jake’s as you walk towards his car, sliding into the passenger seat after he opens the door for you. He settles in the driver’s position, looking around. “Did you have fun?” He wonders, his voice soft, soothing. You smile, reaching for his hand again as you assure him it was great.
“But next time, let’s eat alone, just the two of us, yeah?”
You agree, squeezing his hand in his. “I’d love that.”
“Good,” Jake smiles, leaning in and capturing your lips with his. “How about dinner tomorrow?” He asks between kisses, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. You hum against his lips, agreeing. Your fingers tangle in his hair, keeping him close as you deepen the kiss, enjoying the alone time with him. You were definitely going to make use of all the time you have during this break, with no roommates standing in your way and no exams watching over your back.
You stay in the parking lot for a few more minutes, sharing kisses and light touches with soft giggles that make you fall for him just a bit more. “I like you so much,” you mumble and Jake’s grip on your waist tightens. “Yeah?” He teases, a smirk forming on his lips. You roll your eyes at his reaction, kissing him again. “I like you a lot too,” he says and even though you’ve heard him say it many times before, it warms your heart in a way that makes you feel like he just said the other L-word for the first time.
“Let’s go,” Jake leans back in his seat, finally starting the car and driving off. His right hand rests on your thigh soon after, his eyes focused on the road. You smile, stealing glances at your boyfriend as he drives you home. You could definitely get used to this.
Jake grabs your bags from the truck of his car while you open the front door of your house, greeting your parents before running out again to help him. However, when you reach him, asking him to give you one of the bags so he doesn’t carry it all on his own, he just brushes you off, saying he’s got it. You know he does, that he could easily pick you up as well but you still want to help.
“Love, just go inside and watch me with your pretty eyes, yeah? I’m not gonna have you carry some bags when there’s no reason for you to.”
You roll your eyes but still listen, walking in empty-handed with your boyfriend right behind you. “Dear, go help the poor boy,” your mum nudges your father immediately when her eyes land on Jake. He however shakes his head, still refusing any help. Your dad scoffs but there’s a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Which room is yours?” You point towards a door and he nods, leaving you in the hallway alone.
“He’s more handsome in person,” your mom teases immediately, making you roll your eyes with a smile and your dad grumble something. “Please, just let him breathe. Both of you.” You mom giggles, taking your dad with herself back to the kitchen so they can resume cooking and you quickly run to your room.
Jake is sitting on your bed and looking around the room when you come inside. His eyes immediately flicker to you and he opens his arms with a smile, telling you to come closer. You step between his legs, letting him wrap his arms around your waist and rest his head on your stomach.
The two of you settle in your bed, laptop opened on Jake’s lap as you watch a movie, cuddling together. The moment is sweet, relaxing, something he’s been craving after the intense game earlier. When your mom comes into the room to tell you dinner is almost ready, Jake immediately jumps out, offering his help.
You watch him joke around with your mom as he moves around the kitchen, helping her finish up. He starts a conversation about today’s game with your dad as well, listening to all his feedback. It makes your heart ache. It’s like he belongs there, in the small space of the kitchen, in your family, in your life. You experienced relationships and grew to realize they weren’t easy, they were hard, with obstacles on every corner but with Jake, it was the opposite. You thought it would be hard, and it was for a while at first but now, it just seemed like this was how things were supposed to be.
“How many points did you score today?” Your mom asks curiously, setting down a plate in front of Jake. He smirks, glancing at you for a brief moment before answering. “Three. But I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t score anything if it wasn’t for your daughter cheering me on the whole time.” Your mom smiles proudly and you blush, kicking his feet under the table. He chuckles, his hand finding a way to your thigh and giving it a tight squeeze. You stay quiet after that.
The conversation flows naturally as you continue eating. Your mom talks about memories from your childhood, family vacations, how you first started skating, and even some of your more embarrassing stories you’d rather forget. Your cheeks flush red and it takes everything in you not to shut down the conversation immediately. However, when the familiar sounds of Jake’s quiet laugh rings in your ears and you notice the happiness on his face, you stop yourself. The embarrassment you felt slowly turns into something softer, more gentle.
Jake eases into the rhythm of your family quickly, assuring your father of his good intentions every time he feels the warry in his eyes, joking around with your mother as she sets the picture of little you into his head. He bets you were the cutest kid.
He offers to help with cleaning the dishes but your mom refuses, telling him to go spend more time with you, which he happily agrees to. You roll your eyes when you hear their conversation but lead Jake back to your room nonetheless.
“Your mom loves me,” Jake grins proudly, closing the door shut behind you. You smile, shaking your head. “Don’t let it get into your pretty head, captain. That doesn’t mean you’re not being watched by my father all the time,” you close the space between you, your voice teasing. When you look up at him, he’s smirking. “Call me that again,” something flickers in his eyes as his hands find your hips, pressing your body against his.
“Captain?” you raise an eyebrow at his request but the tease in your voice never falls. “Is that what turns you on?” you whisper, pressing onto him more until his back reaches the door. “Maybe,” he leans closer, claiming your lips with his as his hands wander to your lower back, taking in every inch of your body as he moves lower, giving your ass a tight squeeze before lifting you up as if you weigh nothing.
You wrap your legs around his hips, your fingers tangling in his hair as you deepen the kiss, a soft moan escaping your lips. “God, you’re absolutely beautiful.” A shiver runs down your spine as he says your name. “Tell me what you want, baby. What you want me to do.” No words leave your mouth as you press your lips on his again, pressing your hips on his harder as a form of answer. He smirks again, walking over to your bed where he drops you. You gasp but can’t help and laugh as he comes closer, spreading your legs and settling between them.
“Words, love. I want words from you.” You moan again as he presses himself against you, feeling his bulge through the layers of clothing you’re both wearing. “Anything, everything–” you gasp when he rolls his hips against yours in a slow, teasing motion. “You promised three rounds, Captain.”
Jake grins, watching your lips part as his hands wander over your body again. Gentle touch on your shoulder, his fingers brushing over the skin of your arms, his hands coming under your shoulder to trace over your stomach and breast. Your breath shakes as you watch him, your eyes following his every movement. “I’ve been waiting for this for so long,” he mumbles, kissing you hungrily, the kiss able to convey all his feelings. “Dreamed of you like this.” His right hand moves lower, stopping between your legs and pressing it over your core.
“Jake,” you gasp as his lips move lower, leaving wet kisses and marks over your jaw and neck. He hums against your skin, pulling off your pants with ease. “Yes, baby?” He asks as he slides your panties to the side, his fingers flicking between your folds. “What do you need, tell me.”
You grind your hips against him on an instinct, a soft whimper of his name leaving your lips. “Need you, need– fuck,” you whine, looking up at him. “Come here, closer. Need you closer.” He smirks, leaning down and holding your chin with his left hand, making you look at him. “That’s it, baby. Use your words,” he kisses you again, his tongue fighting with yours as he rips your panties away, making you yelp.
You barely register him pulling his pants off as he cups your breast in his hands, massaging them as he waits for your every reaction. His mind is clouded with thoughts of you, what he’s going to do, what kind of pleasure he would bring you. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. He needs to hold himself back not to cum untouched just from the way you look at him.
“In, Jake, please,” you beg and something in him flickers. He moans, the sound sending a shiver through your whole body, and pushes your legs up, making you hold them. His eyes focus on your cunt, aligning his cock with your entrance. “God, you’re so fucking wet, darling. I can just slide into you–” he pushes his tip in, making you gasp, “with ease.”
Your nails dig into his shoulders, your mouth wide open, the only sounds leaving your lips being a few broken gasps, barely audible once. Yet, they are loud enough for Jake. He leans closer, placing a few open-mouthed kisses on your collarbone. “So good,” he moans against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. “It’s like you were made for me entirely,” he praises, his kisses lowering to your breast. He lets out a silent grunt as your nails dig deeper but he never backs away.
“I–” I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you. The words are loud and clear in his head, the urge to say them out loud for the whole world to hear so strong he has to bite down his tongue not to do so. But, god, does he want nothing more. “I need you so bad,” he says in the end instead, listening to your quiet moans as he thrusts into you, quickening his pace.
Your eyes roll back, one of your hands squeezing the sheets beneath you while the other finds Jake’s, lacing your fingers together. Your bodies move against each other, the room getting hotter each second as you get closer to your climax. “So good,” he praises you again, his teeth digging into the soft skin of your shoulder. “Jake, I’m gonna–” You don’t even get to finish your sentence as he thrusts harder into you, making you gasp. It only takes a few more quick hip movements before your breath shakes and you reach your orgasm.
Jake pulls out right after, cursing under his breath as he palms himself over your stomach, finding his release as well. “Mhm–more,” you beg, holding onto his wrist. He goes crazy over your words, flipping you onto your stomach with ease. “You want more?” he asks with a smirk, pressing his body against your back as he leans to your ear. “You better have a condom on hand then because I do not want to be pulling out again.”
Your whole body trembles as you point towards a drawer beside your bed, watching his hand reach for it. It takes a few seconds but the same hand rests on your back soon, tracing his fingers across your spine, making you arch your back. He chuckles when you raise your ass, your breast pressing against your mattress. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he mumbles, giving your ass a tight squeeze once again before he feel him enter you from behind again.
You lose track of time, how long it takes for Jake to bring you to your climax again, how much time passes before he goes down on you, encouraging you on your third release of that night, you don’t remember how many times you truly come on his tongue either, everything getting blurry in your head, the only thing you can focus on being Jake’s moans and whines. It’s music to your ears, just as much as your moans are to his based on what he tells you.
I love you. Jake fights the words back again as he rests on top of you, gazing into your eyes as if you were the only thing he could see. Because to him, you were. “You did so well,” he says, cupping your cheek and brushing a few sweaty strands of your hair off your face. “You weren’t so bad yourself, Captain,” you smile back, pressing your lips on yours in a soft, gentle kiss.
“Let me help you wash up?” You nod and he immediately stands up, ready to get to work.
The rest of the week goes on like a dream. Jake takes you out every day, on dates, night strolls, buying you flowers or sweets the moment he sets his eyes on a shop for even a mere second. You certainly can’t say you’d mind. And somehow, in the mix of the days you spend with him, you notice a shift in your parents behaviour, mostly your dad’s. His intense stares, the ones supposed to dig a hole in the middle of Jake’s forehead, slowly turn softer, watching him with much more appreciation you’d dare to say.
“You need to come back soon, dear,” your mother says, making you roll your eyes as she eagerly holds Jake’s hands. “Shouldn’t you be saying that to your own daughter?” You question, watching as your boyfriend leaves out a soft laugh. “I’d love to visit soon again, I’m sure we can arrange something,” he agrees and she finally lets go of his hands. You replace his spot, hugging her goodbye with a promise of finding time to visit.
“Sir,” Jake smiles as he steps in front of your father. They stay silent for a moment, watching each other before they both laugh, your dad pulling him into a hug, as if he was the son he called him before he became your boyfriend again. “I’d like to say you surprised me but I always knew you would be good to her.”
“Did not seem like it before,” you comment, watching their exchange. Your dad sends you a look but doesn’t say anything. “Just…continue treating her right,” your dad turns his attention back to Jake, “otherwise, your death can still be arranged.” Your mom slaps his shoulder but Jake only laughs, nodding. “I promise to treat her like a princess,” he assures him, mocking a prince’s bow to prove his point. You shake your head at him, locking his arm with yours. “Let’s go.”
He listens well, that’s something you’ve learnt over the past few days. Your bag swings over his shoulder as he laces his fingers with you, saying one last goodbye to your mom before leaving the house, taking you to his car.
And as if the dream was to never end, the attention he pays to you, the care he holds for you, never disappears, only growing each day. He keeps to his promise and with every longing look from across the rink, every touch of his when you find yourselves back in your room, and every word he says to you, you find yourself falling for him more and more.
“Oh but that’s not all,” he laughs, forming a grimace similar to disgust. “As if the whole conversation with Jay wasn’t weird enough on its own, I walk into the bathroom and boom, a lady hiding in there,” he says, skating ahead. You chuckle, following him with ease and listening to his stories. “I ran off immediately and called Sunghoon not to come back to the dorm anytime soon. Something Jay should have done for sure.”
“But there’s a good thing that comes from it,” he turns around to face you, one of his boyish grins on again. “It gave me a reason not to be in my dorm studying, and also an excuse to see you.” You shake your head slightly, quickening your movements slightly to reach him. He offers you his hand immediately and you hold it without hesitation, letting him pull you closer. “I missed you.”
“We’ve seen each other earlier today,” you remind him.
“Not the same. Far from it.”
You smile, not saying anything for a while as you simply let him guide you around the rink, your eyes locked with his. It’s quiet and yet, it feels like everything about the moment is loud and clear, letting the emotions you’ve been feeling for a while come out.
“I love you,” you whisper.
Jake’s eyes widen and he stops in his tracks, making you bump into him. “Say it again,” he begs, his eyes flickering from yours to your lips. “Please.”
You smile, cupping his cheek. “I love you, Jake.”
“God,” he breaths out, his arms wrapping around your waist as he picks you off the ground and spins around. “You just made me the happiest man on earth, you know that?” You laugh, telling him to put you back down. The moment he does, his lips find yours in a tender kiss, telling you everything you need to know. He pulls back and smiles, pressing his forehead on yours, “I love you.”
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