synopsis: in which your best friend finally stops pretending, and one confession ruins your oblivious friendship for good.
genre: best friends au
pairing: best friend!jake x oblivious!reader
warnings: jealous!jake, possessive!jake, touchy!jake, hard dom!jake, dub-con-ish, jake is strong, manhandling, groping, messy makeout, biting, tit play, oral (f.rec), spanking pussy + tits + ass, face slap, clit play, fingering, masterbation (m.), cock slapping? he cums on readers face, light bondage, unprotected p in v, creampie, some cuteness at the end to tie it all together!!
wc: 11.7k+
a/n: yall asked and yall have received. this one by a LANDSLIDE on the pole i put out a few days ago and lucky yall i was already like 3/4 done w this fic anyways. this is literally pure filth and i had sm fun writing this. bsf jake is literally what keeps me going istg. anywaysâŠhope yall enjoy! as always notes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated!!
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you're sitting cross-legged on jake's bed, a carton of pad thai balanced dangerously on your knee, ranting about your latest situationship like it's a normal tuesday night and not a personal attack on his blood pressure.
jake is leaning against the headboard beside you, one arm casually draped behind your backânot even touching you, just hovering, like he's ready to pull you into him at any second.
he's acting like he's listening, nodding at the right beats, but his eyes keep dropping to the hem of your shorts. they're barely shorts at this point, basically denim underwear, and every time you shift, they ride up higher. he's suffering quietly.
"so then he ghosted me for two days," you say, stabbing your fork into a noodle like you're reenacting a murder. "and suddenly he texts me like nothing happened. men are insane."
jake's jaw ticks in mild frustration, he forces a shrug. "yeah, he sounds... busy. maybe he has a lot on his plate."
i don't care. i don't care. i don't care. his mind is in absolute shambles right now.
you blink at him, annoyed. "you told me last week that guys who disappear like that 'should step on a lego and rethink their life choices.'"
"well," he says slowly, eyes flicking to your bare thigh before snapping back up, "maybe stepping on a lego would give him perspective. doesn't mean he's bad. just... confused."
he's giving terrible, contradictory advice on purpose, trying to gently sabotage any chance of you forgiving this man. but you miss all of it, too focused on your rant and your noodles.
you shove another bite into your mouth and keep talking, oblivious. jake's hand drops from behind you to your thigh, warm and heavy as he gives it a little squeezeâcasual, friendly, like he's always done that. because he has. because jake has made touching you look normal for years.
you don't even flinch when you feel his grip tighten on you slightly. "do you think i should give him another chance?"
jake stares at you, expression flat. "no." that shouldn't even be a question, you shouldn't give any man who isn't him a chance.
"but you just saidâ"
"i lied," he says plainly. "don't date him. he's... not your type."
"you don't know my type."
jake scoffs, watching a noodle you failed to keep on your fork land on your thigh. "i know everything about you." he watches your expression morph into one of defeat before he's reaching his fingers out to grab the stray noodle and sneak it into his mouth.
and he does, jake knew you like the back of his hand, painfully so.
you stretch your legs out, half laying against him, your head dropping onto his shoulder like it's instinct. jake stiffens for half a second before melting, his body curving around yours like he was designed to hold you.
"ugh," you groan. "why can't i just find someone normal?"
jake stares at the top of your head, his fingers brushing absently along the inside of your knee, tracing small circles like it's nothing. like he isn't one wrong move from losing his mind.
he clears his throat. "maybe you're just looking in the wrong places."
"where am i supposed to look?" you mumble, mouth full again.
"i dunno," he says, gaze locked on the way your lips wrap around your fork, "maybe... closer."
you don't catch it, of course you don't.
instead you just scoot even closer to him, thigh pressing against his, stealing some of his fries like you always do. jake lets you, leaning into the touch, smelling your shampoo, watching as another stray noodle falls onto your shirt. he plucks it off without hesitation, choosing to flick it away this time.
you laugh. "thanks, mom."
"i'll remember you said that next time you're crying about someone ghosting you."
you hit his arm lightly but he catches your wrist, fingers wrapping around it, thumb rubbing lazily over your skin. he's smiling but his eyes are sharp, warm, lingeringâlike he's memorizing the way you feel under his hand.
but you don't notice a thing. you're already going on about another red flag your situationship displayed, gesturing wildly while still half in his lap.
jake just watches, letting you rant, letting you lean into him, letting you stretch out across his bed like you own it. like you own him.
and honestly? you do.
"you're too good to me," you sigh dramatically, looking over at your best friend.Â
jake laughs under his breath, low and a little bitter. "yeah," he says quietly. "i know."
your phone buzzes beside your thigh.
jake's eyes snap to it before you even glance down. the name flashing on your screen makes his entire body go rigid. it's the situationship idiot âthe one who's been ghosting you, breadcrumbing you, ruining jake's sanity for weeks.
you reach for the phone but jake is faster. he snatches it first, holding it above his head like a relic he plans to yeet into the sun.
"jake!" you shout, scrambling into his lap to grab it. "give it back!"
the position shouldn't be normal. it shouldn't be casual. but you've done this a thousand timesâ climbing over him, knee pressed between his legs, one hand braced on his chest as you stretch up to reach.
your t-shirt barely hides the curve of your chest, you were practically smothering his faceâand jake didn't mind it one bit.
jake swallows so hard he might choke. "why do you need to text him back right now?" he asks, voice too calm to be real.
"because he messaged me," you say, fingers grazing the phone but not grabbing it.
jake's eyes flick down, you're straddling him. you don't notice but he absolutely does.
his hands curl around your waist automatically, steadying you like he's afraid you'll fallâor like he's afraid he'll let go.
"you can reply after we finish eating," he tries again. "or in... a week."
"jake."
"what?" he says, blinking innocently. "i'm helping."
you finally get a grip on your phone and tug it out of his hand. he lets it go, but reluctantly, like he's handing you a loaded weapon.
you drop back onto the bed, legs still draped over his, and open the message.
jake leans over your shoulder immediately, chin practically resting on you. "what'd he say?" he mutters, eyes narrowed like he's assessing a threat.
you read aloud, "he said: sorry i disappeared, things have been crazy at work. i wanna make it up to you. drinks this weekend?"
"i'm being honest," he shoots back. "he's a loser. you shouldn't go."
you look up at him. "and why not?"
he holds your gaze for a beat too longâwarm brown eyes, pupils blown a little, intensity simmering just below the surface.
then he shrugs, voice low. "you're gonna get your feelings hurt. again. and then i'll have to listen to you cry. again. and you ugly-cry, so that's an extra layer of torture for me."
you gasp. "i do NOT ugly-cry."
jake just raises a brow. you don't, you look pretty when you cry. jake quite enjoys the flushed look on your face, but it aches him that your crying over losers and not because his dick isn't down your throat.
you throw a pillow at him. he catches it, smirking, then lays down fully on his back, arms spread like he's claiming the entire mattress.
you fall beside him automatically, head splayed over one of his arms.
he turns his head toward you, eyes soft. "don't go."
you freeze. "what?"
"don't go on the date," he repeats softly, almost gentle. "just... stay here instead. with me."
you laugh it off, nudging his shoulder. "jake, i'm not ditching someone for movie night."
"ditch him for me," he says, no hesitation. "you do it all the time."
you blink, he's right. you absolutely do.
you've cancelled plansâactual plansâbecause jake didn't want to watch a movie alone, or because he was bored, or because he wanted boba at midnight and didn't want to walk alone.
but that was different, that was friendship. obviously.
"you're being clingy today," you tease lightly, pulling at the sleeve of his shirt.
"i'm always clingy," he says. "you just never notice."
he says it like a joke, but it lands too heavy.
your phone buzzes again. before you can even move, jake flips onto his stomach, throws an arm across your waist, and physically pins you to the bed.
you let out a small squeal at his sudden actions, squirming in his hold. "enough," he mutters into your shoulder. "if he texts you one more time, i'm blocking him."
"you can't justâ"
"watch me."
you're half laughing, half exasperated, half aware that his entire body is pressed over yours, warm and solid and familiar.
you shove at him weakly. "get off, you menace."
"no," he mumbles. "you're comfy."
"jake..."
he lifts his head slightly, eyelashes brushing your skin. his voice drops to something almost vulnerableâsomething that slips out before he can stop it.
"just stay with me tonight."
your breath stutters and he feels it. he looks away immediately, pretending he didn't say anything real. you pretend you didn't hear something real.
the phone buzzes again. jake tightens his arm around you, jaw clenched.
you don't move this time and jake... jake notices.
jake's arm is still wrapped around your waist, heavy and warm, like he's trying to anchor you to him. you should probably get up or at least check your phone.
but you don't and that tiny decision ruins his self-control.
you feel him exhale against your neck, slow and shaky, like he doesn't want you to notice. his fingersâresting right at the curve of your waistâstart tracing thoughtless circles into your shirt. lazy, slow, claiming circles. the kind that send a little shiver down your spine.
jake feels it. his hand stills for half a second... then starts again, softer this time, more deliberate.
you're too busy pretending to scroll through food delivery apps to process it.
"what're you doing?" you mumble, a subtle flush coating your cheeks.
"touching you," he answers bluntly, like it's the most normal thing in the world.
it is normal for him, he's always touchy. always grabbing your wrist, fixing your hair, pulling you by the waist, resting his head on your lap when he's tired.
you don't think twice. but tonight? tonight he's different.
his hand slides from your waist to your hip, fingers curling loosely into the fabric of your shorts. not enough to be inappropriate, just enough to make your breath catch.
he hears it. "you okay?" he asks, voice low, almost smug.
"just hungry," you lie, a terrible lie at that. you had just devoured take away minutes ago.
he laughs softly against your shoulder, his nose brushing your skin. that alone sends heat shooting straight through youâsomething you ignore immediately.
"hungry for what?" he teases, catching onto your lie.
you shove his arm weakly. "food, idiot."
"mm. sure."
he doesn't move away. instead, he shifts closerâpractically molding himself to your side. his thigh slides against yours, his knee nudging between your legs just slightly as he gets comfortable. accidentally. or maybe not, you can't tell.
your heart stutters. jake notices everything,
especially things you don't realize you're doing.
he props himself up on one elbow, hovering over you a bit, his hand brushing your ribcage as he pushes your hair out of your face.
"you got sauce on your cheek," he murmurs.
you reach up to wipe it but he catches your wrist mid-air.
"i got it."
and thenâway too gentlyâhe uses his thumb to wipe the corner of your mouth. except his thumb lingers, longer than necessary. brushing your lip once, twice, slow enough that you swear he's doing it on purpose.
your chest tightens, you force a laugh. "okay mom."
jake's eyes flick down to your mouth. his thumb leaves your lip, but he doesn't pull his hand away. he lets it drift along your jaw, curling lightly behind your ear, like he's pushing your hair back just to keep touching you.
"do moms do this?" he asks quietly. the toneâwarm, teasing, dangerously softâmakes your stomach flip.
he leans in just a little closer. close enough that you feel his breath when he talks.
"or this?"
his hand slides from behind your ear, down your neck, thumb stroking your pulse point for the briefest second.
you freeze. your phone buzzes. again.
jake's jaw flexes, and his hand drops to your waist, grip tightening possessively.
"you gonna get that?" he says, barely masking annoyance.
"i... dunno," you mumble.
"good," jake whispers, leaning in until his forehead almost touches yours. "don't."
his fingers slip beneath the hem of your shirt this time, barely there, just the pads of his fingertips brushing your bare waist. testing. waiting to see if you'll pull away.
you don't and that's all he needs.
he lets out a small breathârelief, disbelief, hungerâthen slides his hand fully onto your skin, warm and steady on your waist, thumb tracing slow circles again, this time deliberate. claiming.
"you're staying with me tonight," he murmurs, voice low and rough around the edges.
you swallow hard. "jake..."
"no," he says, shaking his head just slightly. "don't say my name like that."
"like what?"
"like you don't know what you're doing to me."
your heart stops. the room feels too quiet. too warm. too intimate. and jake... jake is staring at you like he's wanted to say that for years.
your heart is beating stupidly fast. the room feels too quiet. too warm. too charged.
jake's hand is still under your shirt, his thumb tracing slow, burning circles on your bare waist. he's hovering over you, eyes pinned to yours, and for a secondâjust a secondâyou swear something is about to happen. something irreversible.
his gaze drops to your lips and your breath catches.
you don't move and jakeâjake looks like he's seconds away from doing something he's been holding back for years.
"jake..." you whisper.
his fingers press a little deeper into your skin. "yeah?"
you open your mouthâ
RIIIING RIIIING RIIIING.
you both jump.
your phone lights up between you two, vibrating violently against the mattress like it's possessed. the moment snaps in half. the tension dissolves like it never existed.
jake curses under his breath and jerks his hand away from your waist like he touched a hot stove.
you sit up way too fast, hair messy, face flushed, pretending you weren't about to let your best friend climb into your bloodstream.
"ohâuhâmy mom's calling," you blurt, even though you haven't even looked at the caller ID.
jake scoots back immediately, expression neutral but ears bright pink. "yeah. yeah, answer it."
you grab your phone, awkwardly clearing your throat. "h-hello?"
jake stands from the bed like it's on fire. he runs a hand through his hair, pacing a little, avoiding eye contact like the plague.
you talk to... whoever... on the phone, but you're barely listening. your mind is spinning.
did that just happen?
no. no, it couldn't have. it was jake. your jake. clingy, touchy, overly affectionate jake who once held your hand for thirty minutes because you saw a spider and screamed.
this is normal. he's always like this.
he wasn't gonna kiss you. that's crazy.
meanwhile jake stops pacing just long enough to glance at youâyour flushed cheeks, your dazed eyes, the way you're tugging nervously at your shirt.
his jaw clenches, he looks away again. when you hang up the phone, the room is weirdly silent. awkward in a way it's never been.
you try to laugh it off. "okay, wow, that was... dramatic."
jake forces a smile. "your ringtone scared the fuck out of me, not gonna lie."
"same," you giggle. "i thought something exploded." you wait for him to make a joke. tease you, say something flirty and dumb like he always does.
but he just nods. "yeah."
you tilt your head. "jake... are you good?"
he blinks once. twice. then shrugs way too casually. "yeah. why wouldn't i be?"
"you're... acting weird."
"no i'm not."
you squint at him. he avoids your eyes, picking at a loose thread on his hoodie like it suddenly became fascinating.
you shrug, letting it go. "okay, whatever. do you want the rest of my noodles?"
jake finally looks at youâsoft, fond, longing. too much. he covers it instantly with a smirk.
"yeah," he says, ruffling your hair like he didn't just have his hand under your shirt two minutes ago. "give them."
you laugh and shove the container into his hands, the moment already fading in your mind.
because that's just jake, he gets weird sometimes.
touchy. clingy. possessive. but he's your best friend, so none of it means anything.
right?
jake sits beside you again, shoulder pressed to yours, stealing a bite of your food like nothing happened.
but his hand stays firmly on his thigh now, not daring to slip his hand to rest somewhere on your body.
and you don't noticeâbut he doesn't look at you again for the rest of the night.
.á .á .á .á .á .á
you don't even notice when jake closes the distance again.
one second you're scrolling through your phone while waiting for your friends to arrive; the next, jake is suddenly behind you, his chin hooked over your shoulder like he belongs there. his arms wrap around your waist as if it's the most natural thing in the world, sliding under your hoodie and settling warm against your stomach.
"you're early," he murmurs, breath brushing your neck. you squirm slightly at the feeling, your neck feeling tingly.
"and you're clingy," you laugh, leaning back into him without thinking. "as always."
jake smiles into your shoulderâexcept it's tight, a little strained. because across the room, one of your friends is watching with raised brows, mouthing see? he's so into you.
you roll your eyes at her, whispering, "no he's not, he's just touchy."
jake's arms tighten around you immediately, like he heard even though you were whispering. which he probably didâhe always seems to hear when it involves him.
"what're you talking about?" he asks casually, playing innocent as he nuzzles your neck, his lips brushing your skin way too much to be "friendly."
"nothing," you wave off, patting his forearm. "they think you like me or something."
jake freezes for half a secondâbarely noticeable âbefore smoothing his expression again.
"crazy assumption," he hums, though his thumb is rubbing slow circles into your hip, his chest pressed flush to your back like he's trying to merge into you. "i just like being close to you. that's all."
your friend across the room gives you a look. jake, still pretending not to notice, tightens his hold again.
and then it gets worseâor better, depending on perspective.
you move to the couch, and he moves with you; you sit down, and he pulls you onto his lap like it's routine. he doesn't even give you time to think, just a gentle tug at your waist and suddenly your thigh is slotted between his, his hand splayed over your leg protectively.
"jake," you whisper, half-laughing, half-confused, "i can sit next to you, you know."
"yeah," he shrugs, resting his chin on your shoulder again, "but why would you do that?"
your friends stare. one of them raises their brows so high they practically touch their hairline. you wave them off, whispering, "he's always like this, don't even startâ"
"always like what?" jake asks, his breath warm on your ear. you jumpâhe heard that? you said it so quietly...
"clingy," you say, poking his forehead. "you know. you're a koala. it's your whole thing."
jake's hand on your thigh slides just a little higher. "only with you," he says simply.
you blink and the room goes quiet for a moment.
your heart skipsânot because you think he means anything by it, but because you're flustered.
"you mean... because we're close," you correct yourself out loud, nodding firmly, like you're reassuring yourself more than him.
"mm," jake hums noncommittally, but the hand on your thigh squeezes gently, possessively, like he's claiming the entire limb.
the conversation in the room starts up again, but jake doesn't let you move an inch. he's touching you everywhereâknee, thigh, waist, hip, shoulder. every time someone talks to you, his hand finds a new place to rest. at one point he tucks your hair behind your ear, fingers lingering against your jaw a little too long.
you don't question it but everyone else does. finally, one of your friends cracks. "okay, i'm sorry, but jake, babe? you're acting like she's your girlfriend."
your breath catchesâbut not as much as jake's does. he smilesâslow, lazy, almost smugâand tightens his arm around your waist.
"am i?" he asks lightly, but his eyes are sharp. "hm. didn't notice."
your friend snorts. "oh, please. you're practicallyâ"
"he's just like this," you cut in quickly, panicked embarrassment hitting you all at once. you swat at jake's chest. "tell them. you've always been touchy."
he looks at you, really looks at you, something soft and frustrated dripping underneath it.
"yeah," he finally says, voice dropping lower, more intimate, "i guess i have."
you grin, relieved. "see? nothing new."
your friend gives you a 'you cannot be serious stare'. jake presses a slow kiss to your shoulderâ not fully a kiss, more like the ghost of one and whispers, "nothing new."
but the way he says it...it's a confession you don't hear. because that's jake, your jake. clingy, chaotic, glued to your side.
totally harmless.
right?
he hopes you figure it out. he hopes you catch on.
he hopes you feel any of this. he was basically slamming his undying love for you in your face.
but as you shift in his lap and lean into him without realization, he knows. you don't. not yet.
and jake? jake's coming undone faster by the minute.
you don't even realize how long you've been sitting in jake's lap until your leg starts to fall asleep. you shift a little, trying to wiggle out of the pins-and-needles feeling in your thigh, but jake's hands tighten instantly, fingers digging into your hip like he's anchoring you in place.
"heyâ" you laugh, elbowing him lightly. "i gotta move, my leg's numb."
"then move," he says, chin still on your shoulder.
"i didn't say you could get up."
you snort, assuming he's jokingâbecause jake jokes, that's what he doesâbut when you try to get off his lap, he doesn't budge. he actually pulls you back, one hand sliding up your waist, the other locking around your thigh, guiding you back down firmly until you're flush against him again.
your breath stutters. "jakeâ"
"where're you going?" he asks softly, almost amused, but there's something else simmering under itâsomething dark and territorial.
"i just need to stretch," you say, trying to twist out of his hold. jake holds in a groan when he feels you shift over his crotch, eyes shutting briefly before he's trying to think of thoughts that would kill his boner.
boner or not, he doesn't let you get up.
with one swift motionâfast enough you barely process itâhe shifts you sideways, turning you so your legs drape over his thigh instead, your side pressed to his chest. the entire movement is so smooth and confident that a little gasp escapes your lips.
you freeze, your friends who've been watching this whole ordeal go down freeze.
jake acts like nothing happened. "better?" he murmurs, one hand casually rubbing your outer thigh, thumb brushing bare skin where your shorts ride up.
you swallow. "y-yeah. sure."
your friend across the room mouths, 'HE PICKED YOU UP?? HELLO??'
you glare at her, mouthing back, 'he didn't PICK me up, he justâ' you gesture vaguely, as if that explains anything.
she looks like she's about to scream. jake feels your glare move off him and immediately refocuses you by nudging his nose into your neck. not subtly, not gently but like he's reminding you: look at me.
"you're tense," he says into your skin.
"because you tossed me like i'm a little dogâ"
"you are little," he says, deadpan. "and you fit on me. so stop fighting it."
your cheeks burn. "i wasn't fightingâ"
"you were," he says quietly. "don't. i want you here."
your brain short-circuits for a second. your friends are staring like they're watching a crime unfold.
you clear your throat and try to steer the attention away. "okay, anywayâhas anyone heard from lena? she said she was comingâ"
"she texted me," one friend says, but her eyes stay glued to you and jake. "she'sâuhârunning late."
jake's hand trails up your thigh again. slow. intentional. claiming.
"good," he mutters under his breath.
you assume he means because you're all here longer, hanging out. because jake likes group nights, right? he always shows up. he always sticks close.
"anyway," another friend says loudly, clearly trying to save you, "should we order dessert?"
your phone lights up in your hand at that exact moment.
it's your situationship, the one you like. the one you vented to jake about last week.
your thumb barely lifts before jake's hand closes around your wristâgently, but firmly enough to shock you.
"who's that?" he asks, eyes trained on your screen.
"ohâ it's justâ"
"him?" jake interrupts, his jaw tightening and his teeth grinding. if you hadn't been so shocked at his behaviour you would've found this hot, cross that, you still did.
you laugh nervously. "don't startâ"
he doesn't let go of your wrist. "what does he want?"
"jake," you whisper warningly, "you're being weird." you looks over at your friends who're trying their hardest to not stare at the scene unfolding in front of them.
"i'm being normal," he says calmly.
except he's not. he's staring at the name on your phone like he wants to burn the pixels off the display.
"maybe he got my message," you say, shrugging.
"what message?"
"justâ i told him i might be free this weekend. maybe."
jake goes completely still behind you. still like he's holding his breath, still like he's about to break something.
"you're busy this weekend," he says quietly.
you blink. "since when?"
"since... now."
you turn toward him, brows furrowing. "jake. i didn't make plans with you."
he finally meets your eyesâand it's the first time tonight he's fully let the intensity show. all that simmering jealousy he's been swallowing. all those territorial touches he pretended were casual. it's all right there, unfiltered.
"you're not going out with him," he says, voice low. your heart jumps at the toneâserious, possessive, steady.
"jakeâ"
before you can finish, he grabs your waist again, pulling you tighter against him, one arm banding across your middle like he's shielding you from someone only he can see.
"he doesn't want you," he says. "not really."
you frown. "you don't know thatâ"
"i do," he snaps, then softens his tone when you flinch. "i do," he repeats, quieter. "i know men. i know what that look means when he talks to you. i know what he's in it for."
you blink, confused. "...what?"
he leans in, lips brushing your ear as he whispers:
"he wants what's mine."
your breath leaves your lungs. immediately, you laugh because it's jakeâyour jakeâand he says dumb things all the time.
"oh my god, you're so dramaticâ"
but the room is silent, your friends have turned to stone and jake? jake is staring at you like he didn't mean to say it out loud.
like the truth slipped. like he wants it back, but can't.
he swallows hard. "jake," you whisper, suddenly flustered. "you're... you're joking, right?"
he opens his mouthâyou won't know what he would've said because suddenly someone knocks on the front door. loudly.
everyone jumps. the spell breaks. jake's hand loosens on your waist. your phone buzzes again.
and you exhale, convincing yourself: he didn't mean it. jake always says intense stuff. he's just clingy. that's his personality.
right?
meanwhile jake sits behind you, jaw locked, chest rising and falling too fast, fingers flexing like he's resisting the urge to pull you back into him.
this is unraveling faster than he planned and you still don't see it.
.á .á .á .á .á .á
you don't realize it, but you've created a monster.
ever since that night in his lapâthe one where he said too much and almost let everything slipâjake has stopped pretending he's subtle.
he's touchy. clingy. bolder than before. not hiding it anymore.
he wants you to notice. he needs you to notice.
but you don't. and every day, without meaning to, you throw gasoline on the fire.
it starts when you get ready for a party.
your dress won't zip, so you call for himâbecause of course you do.
"jakey? can you come here?"
he nearly punches the wall. that nickname has turned into his personal trigger. he walks into your room and stops dead.
you're standing in front of your full-length mirror, dress half-open, back bare, hair pinned up. you look over your shoulder and smile like you didn't just stab him in the chest with a look.
"help?" you ask sweetly. he should turn around. take a breath. be normal.
he doesn't.
he walks behind you, slow, deliberate, hands coming to rest on your waist before he even touches the zipper.
you tenseâjust barelyâbut don't pull away.
you never do. his fingertips drag lightly up your spine as he takes the zipper between two fingers, pulling it up inch by torturous inch.
your breath shivers. he notices.
he leans in, not even pretending anymore, and murmurs, "you should really ask someone who can handle this."
you blink at him in the mirror. "huh?"
"nothing," he says, zipping the last inch with a soft tug. "turn around."
you do, confusedâand jake's eyes slowly drag down your body with zero shame. "you look good," he says, voice low, warm. "too good."
you laugh, flustered. "it's just a dress."
he steps closer, his tongue jutting out of his mouth to swipe over his lips. "you have no idea how you look."
you should catch it. the tone, the stare, the tension.
but you don't. you just pat his chest and grab your shoes and he swallows the frustrated groan he wants to let out.
later, at the pregame, the living room is crowded âwhich is your excuse.
"jake, there's no space," you say, scanning the couch. he shakes his head. "come here."
"where?"
he stares at you like it's obvious.
"here," he says, patting his thigh. you watch his thigh flex under his blue jeans, your eyes widening when he spreads his legs widerâinviting you.
your brain short-circuits for a momentâbecause he's never this blatantâbut you go anyway, dropping onto his lap without thinking.
jake inhales sharply. then his hands are on your waist. holding you in place. possessive. claiming.
"good girl," he mutters under his breath.
you don't hear itâbut your friend next to you almost chokes. you shift, adjusting your weightâand he grips your hips tighter, fingers digging in.
jake feels as if god was torturing him, your ass was directly over his crotch and your wriggling was killing him.
"stop moving," he murmurs into your shoulder. "you're driving me insane."
you laugh lightly. "sorry, your pants are slipperyâ"
"they're not," he says flatly. you shrug. "well, i'm sliding."
"you're staying," he corrects.
your cheeks warm. "you could've sat next to me, you know."
"why would i," he asks softly, lips brushing your ear, "when i can have you right here?"
you freeze and your friend mouths silently, 'HELLO????'
you pretend you didn't hear him but he knows you did.
the next morning, his patience finally snaps.
you walk into his kitchen wearing one of his hoodiesâthe one that barely covers anythingâand nothing else.
he turns from the fridge and chokes.
"morning," you say, stretching your arms above your head. the hoodie lifts, your thighs show and jake actually sees black for a second.
"youâ" he clears his throat. "you're not wearing shorts?"
you look down like you're shocked. "it's long enough."
"no," he says immediately. "absolutely not."
you roll your eyes and steal the jar he's holding. "open this."
he stares at you. at your bare legs. at your smile.
"say please."
you blink. "...jake."
"say it," he repeats, stepping closer. "please."
you groan. "open it, jakey."
the lid pops off with a violent twist. you laugh, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "thanks."
his eyes close for a momentâbecause if he looks at you, he might lose control. "you can't walk around like this," he says, voice tight.
"like what?"
"like you're mine."
you freeze. "huh?"
he straightens instantly. "eat your breakfast."
you shrug it off, confused and jake watches you walk away, hoodie swaying, thighs soft and bare and his hoodie swallowing you whole. he almost slams his head into the counter.
.á .á .á .á .á .á
you're halfway through the movie when it happensâthat slow, sleepy slump you always do, the one jake pretends he doesn't wait for every single week.
your head drops against his shoulder first. then his chest. then, like it's the most natural thing in the world, you curl into him, knees tucked up, fingers slipping under the hem of his shirt.
and jake... jake stops breathing. because you're not even awake, and you're already ruining him.
his arm is draped around youâlike it always isâpulling you against him so snugly it's almost indecent. but tonight is worse. tonight you're extra clingy, extra tired, extra soft.
"you good?" he whispers, even though you're clearly far gone.
you don't answer, obviously, but your hand fidgets again, fingertips brushing the warm skin of his stomach.
jake silently thanks every god he's ever heard of.
he glances at the screen, trying to focus, but every time you exhale against his chest, it punches air out of his lungs. your cheek is warm through his shirt. your thigh drapes across his lap like it belongs there.
and he lets it. he lets every second of it melt him down into something pathetic.
thenâthen the real problem starts.
you shift. innocently, mindlessly, stupidly dangerous.
you drag your leg over his, body sliding up slightly as you readjust in your sleep, and suddenly you're straddling his thigh. not fully, but enough that your weight settles on himâsoft, warm, perfect.
jake's whole body locks up. his heartbeat goes ballistic.
you murmur something incoherent, nuzzling into his chest deeper, fingers gripping at his shirt like you're holding onto him in your dreams.
he is going to combust. his hands hover uselessly in the air for a full second before he grips your waistâcarefully, firmly, but maybe a bit too tight âbecause if you move again, he is not going to be normal about it.
you're half-asleep, breathing slow and sweet, completely unaware that you're sitting directly on his thigh like you own it.
you shift again. just a tiny roll of your hipsâ unconscious, searching for comfortâbut to jake it's catastrophic.
his jaw clenches so hard it aches. his eyes squeeze shut and his brain turns into static.
he whispers, strangled, "oh, my god... baby, please don't do thatâ"
you're not awake enough to hear him. or maybe you are, but you're youâwhich means you're clueless.
your fingers slide higher, brushing his ribs. your lips part against his shirt as you breathe.
jake has never known true fear until now. he's sweating. he's trying not to move. he's praying you don't feel how tense he is, or worse, how much he's struggling to keep himself together because you're on him, touching him, sleeping on him like you're trying to kill him without even trying.
you wiggle again. he chokes on air and that's what wakes you.
you lift your head slowly, eyes hazy and unfocused as you blink at him.
"jakey?" your voice is soft, raspy from sleep. "why're you... so red?"
he stares at you like you've asked why water is wet. you're still sitting on his thigh.
he can feel the heat of you through your little sleep shorts. his hands are still on your waist, thumbs pressing into your hips like he forgot how to let go.
"m'fine," he says, voice not fine at all. "you were justâuhâmoving a lot."
you frown, still half-asleep, still oblivious, still sitting exactly where you shouldn't be sitting.
"oh... sorry," you mumble, and instead of getting off him, you lean forward and wrap your arms around his neck in this slow, sleepy hug that absolutely destroys whatever sanity he had left.
your chest presses against him. your lips brush his collarbone. you melt into him like you belong there.
his voice comes out low, tight, dangerous.
"you're really trying to kill me tonight, huh?"
you blink. "what? i literally just woke up."
he laughsâbreathless, disbelieving, windows-fogging kind of laughâand slides one hand up your spine, fingers splayed, possessive, like he can't help himself.
"yeah," he murmurs against your ear, "that's the problem."
you shift again, confused, and jake's grip tightens automatically, almost like he's anchoring you, holding you in place, keeping you where he wants you without thinking.
you finally look down and see exactly where you're sitting.
your eyes widen. "oh."
jake groansâactually groansâhead falling back against the couch. "yeah. oh."
you scramble to move, but his hands clamp around your waist, not rough, but firm, guiding you back down in one slow, controlled motion that sends shivers through your whole spine.
"don'tâ" he says quietly, voice wrecked. "don't move so fast. you'll make it worse."
you freeze. he stares at you, cheeks flushed, eyes dark, chest rising and falling way too quickly.
and thenâsoft, low, dangerous, "you have no idea what you do to me, do you?"
your breath catches. you're finallyâfinallyâa little aware.
but jake? jake looks like he's one second away from picking you up, putting you exactly where he wants you, and showing you everything you've been too oblivious to see.
you try to move again. you really doâyou lift your hips maybe an inch, ready to scramble off his thigh and pretend none of this ever happened.
but jake doesn't let you. his handsâbig, warm, shaking just a littleâslide from your waist to your hips, and he drags you right back down onto his thigh with a slow, controlled pull that makes your breath stutter.
"jakeâ" you whisper, shocked.
"no," he breathes out, forehead pressing to yours, eyes dark and wild. "stay."
the way he says itâlow, rough, like he's been holding it back for monthsâfreezes you completely. you blink at him, stunned, hands lightly resting on his shoulders.
"iâ i didn't mean toâ" you start.
"i know you didn't." his fingers tighten around your hips, thumbs digging in as if grounding himself. "that's the problem."
his grip shifts, sliding down the sides of your thighs before pulling you in closerânot indecent, but confident, deliberate, like he's finally done pretending.
you gasp softly at the sudden closeness, at how easily he moves you like you weigh nothing. your hands instinctively grab his shoulders. his hands instinctively stay exactly where they shouldn't.
"jakeyâ" you breathe.
he groansâshuddering, almost pained. "don'tâdon't call me that right now," he mutters, voice shaking with restraint.
"why?" your voice is soft. confused. innocent. he stares at you like that's exactly what broke him.
then he grabs your waistâfirmly, possessivelyâand shifts you forward another inch, guiding your body with both hands like he's claiming you without permission, without shame, without fear.
his breath stutters when you end up chest-to-chest with him, thighs tightening around his.
you can feel every muscle in his body lock.
"because," he whispers, almost growling, "you're sitting on me like this, half-asleep and touching me like you always do, and you still... still don't get it."
your heart skips. "...get what?"
that's what finally snaps him. he exhales sharply, almost a laugh, almost a curse, and suddenly you're movingâgently but firmlyâbecause jake has had enough.
his hands slide up your back, gripping under your arms as he shifts positions. in one smooth, practiced, entirely-too-strong motion, he lifts you.
you gasp as your body risesânot far, just enough that you feel light in his handsâand then he sets you back down on his lap, straddling him properly now, chest to chest, no space left between you at all.
your breath leaves your lungs. "j-jake..."
he doesn't let you pull back. one hand stays on your back; the other cups the back of your thigh, holding you in place, thumb rubbing slow circles that feel far too intimate.
his voice drops to a low, broken whisper against your cheek. "i like you."
you freeze. "i've liked you. for months. longer, honestly. more like years."
your lips part in stunned silence. his fingers tighten on your thighânot rough, but desperate.
"and you keep... doing things. leaning on me, wearing my clothes, calling me jakey, sitting on my lap, stretching in front of meâ" he shakes his head like he's spiraling, "âand i swear i've tried so hard to be normal about it."
you open your mouth, but he keeps goingâthe dam is broken and the truth is pouring out.
"i touch you because i want you. i get possessive because i can't help it. i'm obvious on purpose because i'm hopingâ" he swallows, jaw clenching. "âgod, i'm hoping you'll finally see it."
you breathe out, barely a whisper. "jake..."
"and tonight?" his thumb presses into your hip. "you don't know what you're doing to me. you never do."
you stare at himâhis flushed cheeks, blown pupils, the way his chest heaves like telling you this has shattered him open.
your voice trembles. "why didn't you tell me?"
his grip pulls you closerâimpossibly closerâhis forehead pressing into your jaw, breath hot on your neck.
"because," he admits, voice barely a whisper, "if you didn't feel the same, i wouldn't survive it."
your hands lift shakily, cupping his jaw, forcing him to look at you.
"jake," you whisper, softer than you've ever spoken to him, "i didn't know."
he lets out a breath that sounds half laugh, half agony. "yeah, sweetheart..." his fingers slide up your spine, anchoring you against him, voice low and raw. "i know."
his confession still hangs in the airâhot, heavy, suffocatingâand you can barely breathe with how close he is. your legs are still wrapped around him from when he dragged you into his lap, your hands still shaking on his shoulders.
his chest rises and falls against yours, unsteady, like he ripped his heart open and now he's waiting for you to crush it or cradle it.
you swallow hard. "jake... i like you too."
he blinks. slowly. like the words didn't compute at first.
"what?" he breathes.
you nod, nervous but honest. "i've liked you for a while."
everything stops. his hands, which had been warm and steady at your waist, suddenly grip tighter. not painfullyâbut enough to make your breath hitch and your thighs squeeze around him involuntarily.
his jaw flexes. "how long," he says quietly.
you look down at his chest, trying to avoid eye contact. "...since last year."
jake lets out a sound that doesn't even sound human. you can't tell if it's a laugh or a groan or a curse, but it vibrates through his whole bodyâ and yours.
his grip on your waist tightens, thumbs pressing into your skin like he's seconds away from snapping.
"last year," he repeats, voice dangerously soft.
you nod, bad idea. because the second you do, jake suddenly grabs your hips, lifts you off him for half a second, and then slams you right back into his lap, pulling you flush against him.
you could feel him, his cock molding perfectly against your cunt. you gasp, grabbing his shoulders for balance.
"jakeâ!" his face is inches from yours. too close. way too close.
"you liked me since last year," he says again, like he's trying to rewrite reality, "and you didn't tell me?"
your voice shakes. "iâ i didn't know if you liked me backâ"
he laughs again, breathless, incredulous, pained.
"sweetheart," he says, squeezing your hips as he drags you even closer, "i've been losing my mind over you."
your heart jumps. "jakeâ"
he cuts you off by grabbing the back of your neck, guiding your face closer, his forehead pressing hard against yours.
"you wore my hoodies with no pants," he mutters, voice rough. "you'd climb into my lap during movie nights. you'd call me 'jakey' when you wanted something. and you thought it was FRIENDLY?"
your face heats. "iâ i thought you were just being youâ"
his fingers dig into your thigh. "being me?" he echoes, eyes darkening. "sweetheart, I was obsessed."
your breath catches. he inhales sharply, like he's trying to keep controlâand losing.
"you let me touch you," he says, hands sliding up your sides, over your ribs, gripping, groping, exploring. "you let me hold you. you let me spoil you. and I thoughtâ" he breaks off, shaking his head, "I thought any minute you'd pull away and tell me I was crossing a line."
you stare at him, breathless. "...i liked it."
his eyes snap to yoursâsharp, hungry, disbelieving.
"say that again."
"i liked it," you whisper.
that's when he snaps. your back hits the couch cushions before you process what's happeningâ not rough, but fast, controlled, like he's been restraining himself too long.
he cages you in with his arms on either side of your head, body pressed firmly against yours. your legs instinctively wrap around him again and he lets out an unsteady breath at the movement.
his hands slip under your thighs, lifting, adjusting, pulling you exactly where he wants you.
you gasp, mind fogging instantly. "jâ jakeâ"
"no," he says, breathing heavily, "you don't get to look at me like that and say you liked it."
his fingers slide up your waist again, slower this time, tracing the shape of you like he's memorizing it. exploring. claiming.
"you made me crazy," he whispers against your cheek. "every day. every little thing you did. and you knew."
your eyes widen. "i didn't knowâ" he grabs your chin, turning your face to his.
"you knew enough," he growls softly. "you knew how you affected me. you just didn't want to admit it."
your breath trembles. his hand slides down, gripping your hip, dragging you closer until your chest is flush with his, until your thighs squeeze around him again without you meaning to.
his voice is low, ragged. "you liked me," he murmurs, "and you kept it a secret. you let me suffer over you."
his fingers trail dangerously slow up your side, over your ribcage, to the underside of your armâ not touching anywhere explicit, but enough to make your whole body arch into him.
"jake... i'm sorry," you breathe, barely able to think.
"don't apologize," he says, eyes locked on yours. "justâdon't lie anymore."
"I like you," you whisper. "i've always liked you."
something in him breaks open. he exhales shakily, hands sliding down your waist, gripping harder, pulling you tight against him like he's afraid you'll disappear if he loosens his hold.
"good," he whispers, voice trembling with relief and hunger.
"because now," he murmurs, leaning down, lips brushing your jaw without quite touching it,
"i'm done holding back."
his hands slide lowerâfirm, bold, claimingâ guiding your body exactly where he wants you.
your breath hitches and your mind goes blank.
his mouth crashes down on yours before you can even breathe.
it's not gentle. it's not sweet. it's filthyâall hungry, open-mouthed kisses that taste like desperation and salt and him. he sucks on your bottom lip, hard, before biting down just enough to make you gasp, and then his tongue is in your mouth, claiming you, owning you, consuming you. you can taste the mint of his toothpaste and the heat of his want.
he sucks on your tongue, drawing it into his mouth, and you moan, the sound vibrating through both of you. his hands are everywhereâone tangling in your hair, tugging just enough to arch your neck back, the other sliding down your side, gripping your waist so hard you know you'll feel the shape of his fingers tomorrow.
"mine," he growls against your lips, breaking the kiss only to dive back in, sloppier, wetter. "all fucking mine. you understand? you're not texting anyone else. you're not looking at anyone else."
"jakeâ" you pant.
"say it," he demands, biting at your jaw, then sucking a harsh, wet kiss into the skin right below your ear. you feel the sharp pull of his mouth, the promise of a mark.
"yours," you gasp, and he groans, the sound wrecked and satisfied.
"fuck yeah, you are."
his hand leaves your hair and slides down, two fingers pressing against your lips. "open."
you do, without thought, and he pushes his fingers into your mouth. you suck instinctively, your tongue swirling around them, and his eyes go black with lust.
"look at you," he breathes, watching you. "taking me so good. always so good for me." he pulls his wet fingers out with a soft pop and uses that same hand to yank your shirt up and over your head in one rough motion.
your bra is nextâhe doesn't bother with the clasp, just hooks his fingers under the front and pulls it down, baring you to him completely.
the cool air hits your skin for half a second before his mouth is on you, hot and voracious. he licks a broad stripe over your nipple before sucking it deep into his mouth, his tongue flicking relentlessly. his other hand kneads your other breast, thumb rubbing over the peaked nipple.
"so perfect," he mumbles against your skin, his voice muffled. "fuck, i've wanted to do this forever." he bites down gently on the peak, then soothes it with his tongue, before moving to the other side, giving it the same rough, worshipful treatment. he's leaving dark, possessive marks all over your chestâhickeys blooming like violets, the faint imprint of his teeth.
you're writhing under him, your hips rolling up, searching for friction. he grinds his own hips down against yours, the hard ridge of his denim-clad erection pressing right where you need it, and you cry out.
"jake, pleaseâ"
"please what, sweetheart?" he lifts his head, his lips swollen, his chin wet. he looks destroyed, beautiful. "tell me what you want."
"you," you whimper. "just you."
his grip on your waist tightens, surely hard enough to bruise. "you've got me. you've always had me." he leans down again, capturing your mouth in another searing kiss. you can taste your own skin on his lips. one of his hands slides down, over the curve of your stomach, fingers slipping under the waistband of your shorts. "gonna mark you up everywhere," he promises between bites at your lips. "gonna make sure you feel me for days. every time you move, you'll remember who you belong to."
his fingers dip lower, and you arch off the couch, a broken sound tearing from your throat as his fingers slip under your waistband. you're so ready for him, so desperate, you think this is itâbut he doesn't go where you want. instead, his hands slide down to the hem of your shorts, gripping the fabric with a possessiveness that steals your breath.
"these," he says, voice gravelly, "are in the way."
in one rough motion, he yanks your shorts and underwear down your legs, leaving you bare beneath him. the cool air kisses your skin, but it's nothing compared to the heat of his gaze as he looks at you. his dark eyes rake over you, from your heaving, marked chest down to the apex of your thighs, and he lets out a low, approving groan.
"fuck, look at you," he murmurs, his hands sliding back up to grip your hips. "all mine. finally."
he doesn't kiss you again. instead, he pushes your thighs apart, his gaze locked on the wetness he finds there. a slow, predatory smile spreads across his lips.
"you're dripping for me, sweetheart. after all this time... you're gonna make up for every second i spent thinking you didn't want me."
before you can answer, he drops his head between your legs.
the first lick is a broad, slow stroke from your entrance all the way up to your clit, and you jolt, a sharp cry tearing from your throat. it's sloppy and messy immediatelyâhe doesn't bother with finesse, just eats you out like he's starving, like he's claiming this part of you too. his tongue fucks into you, deep and wet, and then swirls around your clit, sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth.
you arch off the couch, your hands flying to his hair, gripping the tousled strands. "jakeâoh, godâ"
he hums against you, the vibration making your toes curl. he's relentless, licking and sucking, his stubble scratching the tender skin of your inner thighs. you're already so close, teetering on the edge, and he knows it. he pulls back just as you're about to cum.
"no," you whine, tugging at his hair. "don't stop, pleaseâ"
he lifts his head, his chin glistening with your arousal. his eyes are dark, a flicker of that old frustration in them. "you kept this from me," he says, his voice rough. "all that time. you let me think i was just your friend while you squirmed in my lap. you think that's cute?"
before you can answer, his hand comes downânot hard, but sharpâright on your cunt.
the slap stings, a bright, shocking pain that melts instantly into a wave of pleasure. your whole body clenches, your hole fluttering around nothing, and a choked sob escapes you.
jake watches, fascinated. "look at that," he breathes, using his pointer and middle finger to spread you open to his eyes. "look how pretty you clench for me. all pink and needy."
he does it again, his palm landing firmly on your swollen flesh. the sound is obscene in the quiet room. your skin flushes a deeper shade of pink, and he groans, leaning down to lick over the spot he just spanked. "so fucking pretty. wanna see this color everywhere on you."
he moves before you can process it. one hand pins your hip to the couch as he leans up, his other hand coming down in a sharp, stinging slap on your breast.
you cry out, the mix of pain and pleasure making your head spin. he does it again to the other, watching the skin bloom red under his palm before he ducks his head to suck the tender peak into his mouth, soothing the sting with his tongue.
"jake," you plead, writhing, "please, i needâ"
"i know what you need," he interrupts, his voice a low growl. he manhandles you, turning you onto your stomach with a strength that leaves you breathless.
he lands three sharp, successive spanks on your ass, each one making you jerk and moan into the cushion. the heat spreads through you, pooling low in your belly. he kneads the warmed skin, his fingers digging in. "gonna be sore tomorrow," he murmurs, almost to himself. "gonna remember my hands every time you sit down."
he flips you back over, his body caging you in again. his eyes are wild, hungry. he leans close, his breath fanning over your face. "you're mine," he whispers, and then his hand comes upânot to hit, but to cradle your jaw. his thumb brushes your cheekbone. "all of you."
then he slaps your face.
it's not brutal, but it's firm, a sharp, claiming sting that leaves your skin tingling. your eyes water, and you stare up at him, stunned, incredibly turned on.
he circles your clit with two fingers, his touch suddenly teasing, infuriatingly light. "this is mine," he says, watching your face. "this pretty cunt that drips for me. this smart mouth that lied to me for a year." he pushes a finger inside you, just to the first knuckle, and you whimper, trying to buck your hips to take more. he holds you down. "you don't get to decide the pace anymore, sweetheart. i do."
he adds a second finger, curling them deep, and your back bows off the couch. "there it is," he croons, scissoring them slightly, stretching you. "that tight little hole that's been waiting for me. you gonna come on my fingers? gonna make a mess for me?"
"yesâjake, pleaseâ" you're babbling, lost in the sensation of his fingers pistoning inside you, his thumb now pressing rough circles on your clit.
"say it," he demands, his own breath coming in ragged pants. he's still fully dressed, the denim of his jeans rough against your bare thighs, and the contrast is maddening. "say who you belong to."
"you!" you sob. "i belong to you, jake, only youâ"
"fuck yeah, you do." he kisses you, hard and sloppy, biting at your already swollen lips. his fingers speed up, driving into you with a punishing rhythm. "gonna make you come so hard you see stars. then i'm gonna do it again. gonna ruin you for anyone else."
the coiling tension in your gut snaps. pleasure detonates, white-hot and all-consuming, radiating out from your core. you scream into his mouth as you clench around his fingers, a hot rush of wetness soaking his hand and the couch beneath you. your hips jerk uncontrollably, and he fucks you through it, his fingers relentless, drawing out the spasms until you're trembling and oversensitive.
he pulls his fingers out slowly, watching the way you twitch at the loss. he brings his soaked fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean with a dark, satisfied hum. "sweet," he murmurs. "and all mine." he grinds his hips down, letting you feel the massive, hard length of him straining against his jeans. "but we're just getting started, baby. you think i'm done with you?"
he groans at the look on your face, his hips grinding down against you one more time, the rough denim a cruel tease. "just getting started," he repeats, a dark promise in his eyes.
then he's moving, pushing himself up off you, kneeling on the couch between your spread legs. his hands go to the hem of his own shirt, and he yanks it over his head in one violent motion, revealing the muscular, taut plane of his chest and stomach. you reach for him, eager to touch, to feel all that heat under your palms.
he catches your wrists before you make contact, his grip like iron.
"no," he says, voice low and final. he smacks your hands away, the sound sharp in the quiet room. "you don't get to touch. not yet. not after what you've done."
"what i've done?" you breathe, confused, aching for him.
"you made me wait," he snarls, leaning over you, his dark eyes blazing. "you made me think i was crazy. you sat in my lap and wore my clothes and looked at me with those fucking eyes and said it was nothing. so now?" he unbuckles his belt with a harsh, metallic rasp, pulling it free from the loops. "now you learn."
he grabs your wrists again, pulling them up above your head. you don't fight him. you're mesmerized by the intensity on his face, the raw possession.
he wraps the leather belt around both your wrists, cinching it tight, buckling it with a definitive click. the restraint is firm, not painful, but inescapable. you're pinned.
he sits back, straddling your hips, and just looks at you. his gaze is a physical caress, hot and heavy. it travels over your bound wrists, down your marked chest, to where you're bare and wet for him. but it lingers on your face.
specifically, on the faint, warm sting on your cheek where his palm connected earlier.
a slow, wicked smile curls his lips. "look at that," he murmurs, almost to himself. his thumb comes up, brushing over the tender skin. you flinch, and his smile widens. "so fucking pretty. my mark on your face. my color on your skin." he leans down, his lips ghosting over the spot. "gonna keep it there. remind you."
then he shifts back, moving up your body until he's straddling your chest, his knees pinning your arms by your head. his erection strains against the fly of his jeans, a thick, daunting outline just inches from your face.
"look at what you did to me," he grits out, popping the button, dragging the zipper down. he frees himself, and your breath hitches. he's thick, velvety and flushed, already leaking at the tip. he fists his length, giving himself a slow, rough stroke. "all this time. hard for you. aching for you. and you played dumb."
he leans forward, bracing one hand by your head, the other pumping his cock slowly, deliberately. the swollen head nudges against your lips. "you wanna taste it, baby? wanna taste what you've been driving crazy?"
you nod, desperate, your tongue darting out to catch the bead of precum.
he smacks your cheek with the hot, heavy weight of his cockâa sharp, degrading tap that makes you whimper. "i didn't say you could." he rubs the slick head over your lips, painting them with his salt. "you beg for it."
"please," you whisper, straining against the belt. "please, jake, let me taste it."
"not good enough." he strokes himself faster, his hips beginning to piston slightly. the tip prods at the corner of your mouth. "tell me why you want it."
"because it's yours," you sob, the humiliation and need mixing into a potent fuel. "because i need it. i need your cum, please, i need to taste youâ"
"on your face or in your mouth?" he demands, his rhythm becoming erratic.
"my face," you beg, the filth of the words thrilling you. "mark my face, please, jakeâ"
that does it. a guttural groan tears from his throat. his hand moves punishingly fast on himself. "open your eyes. look at me. watch me ruin you."
you force your eyes open, locked on his wild, dark gaze as he tips over the edge. hot stripes of cum land across your cheek, your lips, your chin. it's thick, copious, and the scent of himâmusky and uniquely jakeâfills the air. he rides out his orgasm, shuddering, his release painting you as his.
he collapses forward for a second, breathing heavily, before pushing himself up. he looks at his workâyour face glazed, marked, utterly claimedâand a look of profound, possessive satisfaction settles on his features.
"fuck," he breathes. "perfect."
then he's moving again, unbuckling the belt from your wrists with quick, efficient tugs. before you can even rub the feeling back into them, he's flipping you onto your stomach, dragging your hips up, pushing your knees apart. his hands are rough on your sore ass, kneading the flesh he'd spanked earlier.
you feel the blunt, wet head of his cock nudge against your entrance, slick with his cum and your own arousal.
"you want this?" he grinds the tip against you, not pushing in. "this fat cock you made so desperate? you wanna feel it split you open?"
"yes! god, jake, please, fuck meâ"
"beg harder."
you're crying now, tears mixing with the mess on your face. "please, i need it, i need you to fuck me, please, i can't wait anymore, pleaseâ"
he drives into you in one brutal, sheathing thrust.
you scream, the stretch overwhelming, the fullness divine. he doesn't give you a second to adjust. he sets a punishing pace immediately, each snap of his hips slamming you forward into the cushions. his hands grip your waist, surely leaving bruises, holding you in place for his use.
"tight," he grunts, his voice strained. "so fucking tight and wet for me. this cunt was made for me. say it."
"it wasâah!âmade for you, only for youâ"
"gonna cum in this greedy hole," he promises, his thrusts becoming deeper, more focused. "gonna fill you up so deep you taste me for days. you want that? want me to breed this pretty pussy?"
the crude words send you spiraling. "yes! yes, i want it, fill me up, please, jake, i'm gonna cumâ"
"come then," he snarls, one hand snaking around to rub rough circles on your clit. "cum on my cock. squeeze me while i pump you full."
the dual sensation breaks you. you shatter around him, clenching rhythmically on his length, a broken stream of pleas and sobs falling from your lips. he fucks you through it, his own groans getting louder, more ragged.
"gonna cum," he warns, his hips stuttering. "gonna mark you inside. take it. take it."
with a final, deep thrust, he buries himself to the hilt and lets go. you feel the hot, pulsing rush of him flooding your core, claim upon claim. he holds himself there, shuddering, his forehead dropping between your shoulder blades as he empties himself into you.
for a long moment, there's only the sound of heavy breathing.
slowly, he pulls out. you whimper at the loss, the sudden emptiness, the slick drip of him and you onto the couch.
he turns you onto your back again, his eyes immediately dropping between your legs. he watches, fascinated, as a thick trickle of his cum leaks out of you.
"look at that," he murmurs, voice husky with satisfaction. he pushes two fingers back inside you, easily, scooping the escaping fluid. he pushes it back in, stuffing you with his fingers, keeping his claim sealed inside. "keeping it in you. where it belongs."
everything slows down.
the room is quiet except for the sound of breathingâhis, yoursâstill uneven, still catching. the adrenaline drains out of your body in waves, leaving you warm and shaky and strangely floaty.
jake is the first to move. not rushed. not rough anymore.
his hands, which were gripping you like he was afraid you'd disappear, loosen. they slide up your sides slowly, almost reverently, like he's checking that you're real. that you're okay.
"hey," he murmurs, voice hoarse but gentle now. "look at me."
you do. his eyes are softer than you've ever seen themâstill dark, still intense, but no longer sharp around the edges. there's something almost fragile there, like everything he's been holding in just cracked open.
he brushes his thumb under your eye, catching a tear you didn't realize slipped out.
"did iâ" he stops himself, jaw tightening. "...you good?"
you nod, still catching your breath. "yeah. i'm good."
he exhales, long and shaky, like he's been holding it in since the moment he confessed.
"okay," he says quietly. "okay."
he shifts closer, pulling you against his chest. this time it's carefulâan arm wrapped around your back, the other cradling your head, tucking you into him like he's afraid to squeeze too hard.
you melt into it instantly. your cheek presses to his collarbone. his heartbeat is loud and steady under your ear.
for a moment, neither of you says anything. it's not awkward. it's heavy. charged. real.
"i didn't mean to scare you," he says eventually, barely above a whisper.
you lift your head. "you didn't."
his brows knit together. "i was... angry. not at you exactly. justâ" he huffs a quiet laugh, embarrassed now that the heat's gone. "at myself. for wanting you that bad and thinking i was insane."
you trace a slow line over his shoulder with your finger. "i should've said something."
he shakes his head. "we both should've."
his thumb rubs slow circles into your armâ grounding, soothing.
"i just didn't think you'd ever see me like that," he admits. "i figured if i pushed too hard, you'd pull away. so i stayed... half-in. miserable."
you're quiet for a beat, then softer, "i was scared too."
he looks down at you. "of me?"
"of losing you," you correct.
that does something to him. his grip tightens just a little, like instinct. "you're not losing me."
you search his face. "promise?"
he doesn't hesitate. "promise."
another quiet moment passes. then, tentative, "so... what does this mean now?"
you smile faintly. "i was wondering the same thing."
he tilts his head, considering, then says, very plainly, "it means i don't pretend anymore."
your stomach flips. "means i get to be honest when i'm jealous. when i want you. when i don't want anyone else near you." he pauses, watching your reaction. "only if you want that."
you don't even think about it. "i do."
his lips twitchânot smug, not cockyârelieved.
"okay," he murmurs. "then it means you're mine."
you raise a brow. "possessive much?" he smirks, but there's warmth behind it now. "you already knew that."
you laugh softly and tuck yourself back into him.
his chin rests on top of your head. one hand stays at your back, steady and protective, like it's exactly where it belongs.
"i'll be better," he says quietly. "gentler. when you need it."
you hum, blushing softly. "i don't mind when you're not."
he snorts, remembering your moans and pleas for more. "yeah. i figured."
silence settles againâcomfortable this time.
outside, the night feels different. not tense anymore, just open. and for the first time, jakeâs not wondering what you feel.
he already knows.
â enjoy this fic? check out my other ones right here!
that awkward moment where everyone thinks you're dating your roommate...that awkward moment when he thinks that too.
roommate!jungwon x gn reader
HAIIII GAIS ^^ i genuinely can't believe i got cortis tickets so as a celebration heres some wonie love đ€€đ€€đ€€đ€€đ€€đ€€đ€€ i need him so badly Please email me Mister Yang. also plz ignore spelling mistakes. im js a boy.
boyfriend!heeseung x girlfriend!reader
content(s): dark, suggestive scenes, heeseung's devotion is dangerous, readerâs a schemer, possession and obsession, both reader and heeseung are twisted and sweet, in a way
â heeseung loves you, maybe a little 'too much'
youâre sweet. so, so sweet.
you were like the frostings on cake, the syrup of pancakes, the sugar coat on tanghulu and nicotine in cigarettes.
your saccharine sweetness is addictive, and heeseung just canât bring himself to stop relishing in it. in you.
his large hands curl around your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he dives deeper into your taste. tongues tangle, eyes shut tight and breaths hot and hurried as he pins you against the wall of your room.
your own hands clutch onto him, one on his shoulder and the other practically yanking against his dyed locks to which he groans gravelly at. the sting on his scalp reminds him of how real this is, how real you are and it drives him borderline insane.
âheeseungâŠâ a small gasp sounds past your lips when he pulls away and itâs enough for heeseungâs eyes to roll into his skullâhis brows knitting and face burying into the crook of your neck as he shudders.
his grip tightens around you and you furrow in confusion at his trembling form. âwhatâs wrong?â
but heeseung wonât replyâcanât replyâand only shakes his head, lips planting open mouthed kisses onto your skin as he pants against it.
oh, how easily you unravel him.
âso sweet⊠such a sweet thing, arenât you?â he murmurs against your skin, breathless and yearning, and hands squeeze your fleshâgroaning at the feeling of you spilling between the crevices of his fingers. perfection.
when he pulls away, his face is flushed, red down to his neck, and eyes blown out with pupils nearly swallowing the entirety of its earthly brown.
your face is cupped between his heated palms as he nuzzles his button nose against yours, lips shying away from your lips lest he comes embarrassingly quick again.
âyouâre all mine, right?â he whispers gravelly and your eyes flicker between his, awed at the blatant desire yet, restraint burning in them before you nod.
he sighs deeply at that, relieved, before pulling you into a tight, locking embrace and pressing a long, lingering kiss onto the top of your head. âyeah⊠all mine.â
heeseung loves you. just as you love him.
â
âsometimes, i feel like he wishes he could fuse himself with you. you know, like that fish that fuses himself with his mate and lose practically all sense of self,â jiyeon, your friend, says randomly during your lunch date.
you furrow but wear an amused grin, chuckling. âwhat are you talking about?â
jiyeon looks up from her plate to you. âheeseung, duh. you see the way he looks you? if his eyeballs werenât already glued onto his face, it would be on you. he gets tunnel vision whenever you walk in.â
âhe justâŠloves me, thatâs all.â
âa little too much, maybe.â
you giggle at that but her words got you thinking. did heeseung really love you too much?
what defines something as âtoo much?â whereâs the line to cross to deem something as abnormal?
you donât know. does anybody know?
it stuck with you, that thought, to the point that you voice it out to heeseung that same evening when he came over to your dorm.
his dark brows knit and pouty lips pucker slightly in thought as he rests his chin on your stomach. âi think i love you just the right amount.â
âand how much is that?â you ask to which he then stares at you, mesmerized by the stars of curiosity twinkling in your eyes as you tilt your head at him.
heeseung canât restrain the way his lips curl at the sight. youâre so cute. so sweet and pretty, yet so inquisitive. like a fawn discovering the world around it. a soft chuckle emits from him and he inhales sharply as he presses a ticklish peck onto your exposed abdomen. âmore than you can count, sweets.â
he lays his head comfortably against you then, fixing his focus onto the TV screen and hums contentedly when your hand begins to play with the hair on his nape.
unaware of the fact that the question still lingers in your head.
âmore than you can count.â
his answer echoes.
heeseung loves you. but how much exactly?
â
you watch as heeseung plays basketball with his friends on the court. as usual, the usual fans are cheering from outside the fenced area, or the bleachers around where youâre also currently sat on.
unlike them though, youâre quieter, focused on heeseung alone and feeling your heart fill seeing him enjoying himself.
so enthralled that you miss the person taking the spot beside you.
âhey,â he calls.
you turn your head towards him, recognizing him as a classmate from a shared module. âhi.â
âyou like basketball?â he asks, a little too casually considering how youâve never interacted before.
âi like my boyfriend,â you reply, immediately shutting down any attempts of flirtation but from the way he smirks, he doesnât seem deterred.
with an amused raise of his brows, he bobs his head. âoh, cute. youâre devoted to him, huh?â
you donât reply.
âyou really are. huh, i like that,â he comments but doesnât bother moving away. âiâve always liked the good girl types like you. tell me, does he make you feel good in bed?â
that catches you off guardâwhipping your head at him with eyes wide but they grow rounder when you see him flying off his seat.
âwhat the fck did you just say to her??â heeseung barks, fist curled onto his collar to lift him onto his feet. his eyes are dark, vicious, teeth grit tight and veins bulge.
the audience around gasps, having never seen heeseung, the perfect embodiment of cool and charming, so belligerent like a beast.
neither have you.
but the sight of him with fists trembling itching to pounce, chests heaving with heavy breaths, and jaw clenched like a predator snarling against prey, it makes something click in you.
to reveal a part of him youâve never seen before. could it be itâs because his limitâs been crossed?
if so, how far has it gone?
youâre pulled away from your thoughts by heeseungâs burning hot hands that cup your face to lift it up towards him.
âyou okay? what else did he say to you?â heeseungâs worried voice is gentle yet, equally frantic as he interrogates you on what happened.
he didnât lay a hand on the guy. simply, let him off with a warning before dragging you away to one of the vending machines beside the building, away from the crowd.
âiâm so sorry. i shouldâve noticed earlier,â heeseung apologizes sincerely, forehead lowering onto your shoulder as he sighs regretfully. he then, looks back up, cupping your jaw and stroking your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. âyou mustâve have felt so uncomfortable. how are you feeling, hm?â
his doe eyed face is scrunched into a mien of remorse as he searches yours for any sign of distress. itâs almost comical howâŠguilty he sounds. like heâs committed a heinous crime.
suddenly, the beast is gone.
âitâs okay. iâm fine,â you say with complete honesty, a small smile stretched, but still, heeseung has that kicked puppy look and he mutters a small âokay, youâre okay. thatâs good,â paired with a kiss on the top of your head.
âŠ
you kind of want to see the other him again.
heeseung loves you. strong enough to get angry for you.
â
these days, heeseungâs been more protective of you.
to the point where he waits for you outside your lecture rooms like a loyal knight, or how he follows you around like a guarding dobermann and how his hands always find a way to rest on you on every occasion as if staking a claim.
it's not his fault.
recently, there's been so many creeps around you. even when your relationship's already exclusively known throughout campus and social media, there are still people just bugging for your attention.
it started two weeks ago, from the day that guy bothered you at the bleachers. and ever since, these 'pests' just keep showing up even outside of school grounds.
and it's testing heeseung's patience. he's tempted time and time again to just...gouge the eyes out of these men's skull just for glancing your way.
it's just an angry thought, however. he'd never go that far.
"you can go, hee. i'm fine," you say to heeseung who's attempting to shield you from the whole worldâhands on each side of your thighs and frame covering yours as you sit on the kitchen countertop. you're both at a party, invited by heeseung's friends, but being a non-partygoer you'd much prefer solitude. "your friends are gonna look for you."
the way his fingers curl into his palms shows his reluctance and he clicks his tongue before making a decisive nod. "call me for anything, okay? anything."
he finally parts ways with a peck on the cheek and now you're left alone in the empty kitchen, listening to the muffled beats and shouts of the people through the door.
the array of leftover snacks and drinks that didn't make it into the containers outside keep you company...for a good 30 minutes before you decide to leave.
a good 30 minutes before heeseung comes to check on you and lose his mind when he doesn't find you.
he texts. no response.
he calls. no answer.
even after tearing the house up and down, you're still gone. and if it wasn't for a random miraculous messenger telling him that they saw you going outside, he would have started tearing people apart.
who knows? you're such a sweet, soft existence. someone could have eaten you up.
thankfully, the house is in a sort of private propertyâseparate from the main neighbourhoodâso finding you at the vacant streets was easy.
but you aren't alone.
"seungie," your gentle voice rings in his ears like wind chimes and he approaches slowly, occasionally glancing at the man whose back is turned towards him. "what are you doing out here?"
heeseung tries to smile, but it shakes. "i was looking for you. why didn't you answer my calls, baby?"
"you called? oh no, i must have missed! my phone's on silent."
he's quick to wrap his arms around your waist, his chest to your spine, as he now stares at the unfamiliar guy you're with. his guarded gaze scans him from head to toe. "...who's this?"
you perk at that and eyes sparkle and smile broadens. heeseung's lips twitch.
"kang minhyuk, our year. he just came out to tell me he likes my skirt!" you gush, excited that someone likes your fashion sense.
"is that so...?" heeseung asks slowly, almost cooingâa telltale sign of his bubbling rage but not to you, never to youâand he makes sure to stare at him as he slides his arm up your torso to loosely wrap his hand around your throat.
a claiming statement, but gentleâthumb stroking the side of your neck as he plants a kiss onto your temple. "it's just that, to follow her outside only for a compliment... itâs kind of inappropriate, don't you think so? especially when she has a boyfriend."
minhyuk scoffs at that with a mocking tilt of his head. "well, little missy's here told me that you're up for it."
heeseung's ministrations stop. "what? for what?"
"he invited us over for ramyeon," you then say and the words hit him like a sharp slap of ice cold water. he spins you around in his hold and lowers himself to meet your height.
"(y/n), what exactly did he say?"
you stay silent for a moment, cryptic gaze flickering between his frantic ones. "he asked me if was 'open minded' and invited me for ramyeon. so i told him about you and he said to bring you along because 'it'd be fun to share a sweet little treat.'"
it's like a cord snapped within heeseung. loud and dreadful, echoing throughout his whole being and rattling his bones. the way his vision blurs and ears muffle has him lightheaded and he swears he tastes blood from biting on his tongue.
seeing minhyuk standing there with his infuriating smirk, and the way his beady eyes travel up and down your formâ
he wants to pluck them out.
but you're here.
...
he can't do it.
"we're going home."
and that's all heeseung said before pulling you away to the car, leaving minhyuk alone standing on the streets.
heeseung loves you. powerful enough to hold back.
â
1:33am.
you're wide awake, sitting on your bed with knees folded to your chest. the scenario earlier kept replaying in your mind.
it's confusing. you were sure that that was the final push needed to bring back the other heeseung. but, he just walked away. if anything, it was underwhelming compared to his other reactions with the stooges you've placed.
it's...disappointing.
just when you thought you were getting close to crossing another one of heeseung's limits to know the extent of his affections, he takes a step back. and now you feel farther than ever.
what was it? what misstep did you make?
or does he not love you as you thought him to?
DING DONG!
your head whips towards the sound before you even fully register it.
frustrated and puzzled, you turn in your bed to stand.
who's insane enough to come at your door at this hour?
your question's answered before you can check, though. with heeseung's gravelly, almost broken voice calling through the barrier to tell you it's him.
faster than light, you unlock the knob and twist it. a wide, toothy grin on your face. "heeseuâ"
your words lodge in your throat.
the pungent scent of copper penetrates the air as in walks heeseung, painted in sharp, messy strokes of crimson across his clothesâstill the same ones from the partyâbut he makes sure to take off his shoes before stepping into your place.
his disposition is dour, head hanging and features pale other than the flush around his swollen eyes, an indication of his distress. he says nothing, yet the air around him is ladened with tension, apprehension, and he doesn't turn around immediately towards the girl who's locking the door.
"heeseung, wha...what happened?" she asks, careful.
and the first sound comes out of him: a choked sob.
then, he's turning around and falling onto his knees in front of her with arms looped around her waist. he sniffles and cries into her stomachâred smearing onto her clothes and tears dampening the fabricâas his fingers claw against her lower back.
"he won't bother you anymore, (y/n). i-i made sure of it. they won't bother you, us, and if they try... i'll deal with them," he mumbles against her like a broken record and he lifts his head to reveal his tear-streaked face, flushed and ruined, as he pulls her impossibly closer. "you're proud of me, right? y-you'll still love me, won't you? i'll protect you. always. always will.â
you say nothing at first, overridden by shock, but also awe, then fear, yet intrigue. your silence feeds his anxiety however, and his cries heighten to repeat his words like a plea, a prayer, and the intensity of his grip increases that you can almost feel his nails digging into your skin through your shirt.
âi love you. i love you. always. always has. always will. love me, pleaseâŠlove me too.â
his confessions donât cease.
carding your fingers through his wet hair, dampened by sweat and blood, he relaxes ever so slightly and only when you finally utter the words: "of course. i love you, heeseung. always,â does he loosen completely.
a whimper crawls up the back of his throat as he hikes your shirt up with his noseâdesperate to feel your warm skin against hisâand he plants kisses on your abdomen as if he'd perish without it. without you.
 ă Ë áĄŽêȘ« synopsis â you are known for your brain rot anime content on twitter. so much so that you caught the attention of txtâs soobin on his secret stan account and became mutuals. what will become of this new friendship?
 ă Ë áĄŽêȘ« pairing â idol!soobin x fem!reader
 ă Ë áĄŽêȘ« genre â smau, idol au, fluff, prob crack, angst if you squint, comedy (dying as i am writing)
 ă Ë áĄŽêȘ« featuring â rest of txt, billlieâs tsuki and svtâs hoshi as y/n bestie, enhypenâs park sunghoon as a cameo and more!
 ă Ë áĄŽêȘ« warning â may contain anime spoilers, swearing/cursing, y/n is a simp for animated men, please ignore time stamps!!!
 ă Ë áĄŽêȘ« status â start july 7th, 2024 - end september 17th, 2024
 ă Ë áĄŽêȘ« tag list â closed
the storyline
o. y/nâs circle â soobinâs circle
i. fan boy mentality
iii. enhypen 1 soobin 0
iv. a tall woman with a fat ass
v. pookie bear
vi. âinfatuationâ
vii. close the gym
viii. men with dark hair
ix. karma
x. delete his twitter
xi. siri play down bad
xii. tiramisu cake
xiii. bsf approved
xiv. sugar daddy
xv. war is over
xvi. prettiest girl
xvii. friendzoned
xviii. weeb senses were tingling
xix. loser in a hot body
xx. and if heâs ugly, bonus
xxi. more than gojo
xxii. soobin sunk it
xxiii. bless her heart
xxiv. ungrateful brat
xxv. skipped a few chapters
xxvi. bye baby
Zayne was an asshole to be frankâthe type that made people tense the second he walked into a room.
He had that permanently irritated expression carved into his face like somebody had stitched his features together wrongâsharp eyes always narrowed, mouth twisted like he tasted something sour every time another human being opened their mouth.
He called everyone posers, called teachers government puppets, called football players meatheads and girls with dyed hair âfactory made alternatives.â
He got into fights so often the vice principal stopped sounding surprised whenever his name echoed through the office speakers.
Half the time he came back to class with split knuckles and dried blood smeared beneath the silver rings on his fingers, slumping into his chair while blasting Pierce the Veil through one earbud loud enough for everyone around him to hear the static leaking out.
He was weird, not cute weird either. Just disturbing weird.
He bit his nails until the skin around them stayed raw and angry red, constantly pushed his side bangs back into place every few minutes because he hated when they separated wrong over his eye.
He smelled faintly like cigarette smoke even though nobody had ever actually seen him smoke. And he looked at people like he wanted them dead for inconveniencing him with their existence.
Nobody liked sitting next to him because he stared too hard. Nobody liked talking to him because he always had something cruel waiting on his tongue.
Yet somehow, with you, it got stranger because Zayne didnât just look annoyed around you, he looked furious like your existence was a personal sin.
Youâd catch him glaring from across the hallway with his jaw tight enough to crack teeth. During class heâd stare at the side of your head with this ugly intensity, fingers twitching against his desk like he was physically restraining himself from saying something awful.
Sometimes youâd turn around suddenly and catch him already lookingâalready studying youâand instead of glancing away like a normal person, heâd sneer like you were the one bothering him.
âYou breathe too fuckin' loud,â he snapped at you once during chemistry when you leaned past him for a pencil.
Another time he scoffed because of the way you stood, literally just stood.
âWhy do you stand like that?â he muttered darkly. âYou look like a lost dog.â
You blinked at him. âWhat does that even mean?"
âMeans you stand weird.â
jackass.
Everybody thought he hated you. Honestly, you did too. It was hard not to when he acted like every little thing you did crawled beneath his skin.
And maybe part of him did hate you.
Zayne couldnât even tell anymore.
Whatever this thing inside him was, it felt more terrible than hatred. It sat inside his ribs like rusted nails because the same boy insulting you at school went home and carved your name into the wood beneath his bedframe with a pocketknife like a pretty altar he could come home and pray to.
The letters were uneven from how badly his hands shook.
He stared at them afterward for nearly twenty minutes in the dark, thumb brushing over your name over and over until the grooves dug splinters into his skin.
His room looked like a corpse of teenage boyhood. Black walls covered in band posters curling at the edges, clothes scattered everywhere, and empty energy drink cans littering his floor.
Lyrics and scribbled notes were also pinned to the ceiling above his bed because sometimes he liked reading them while he couldnât sleepâbut nowadays when he cant fall asleep he looks under his bedframe, sees your name, and his breath shakes.
His desk lamp barely worked, flickering weak yellow light over notebooks stuffed full of thoughts nobody else would ever read, thoughts and paragraphs about you.
You had ruined music for him, that was the worst part.
Music used to be the only thing that made him feel human. Before you, songs were escape routes, places to crawl into when home got too loud.
When his father started screaming downstairs again, when another plate shattered against a wall, when his mother cried behind locked bathroom doorsâmusic filled the spaces where affection shouldâve been. It swallowed him whole and let him disappear for a little while.
But now every song sounded like you somehow.
Every lyric twisted itself into your shape.
His headphones became torture devices.
Heâd lay there at three in the morning with music crackling into his skull while thinking about the way your fingers curled around pens during class.
He remembered the way your voice dipped lower when you got tired and the way your shoes squeaked against polished school floors. They were tiny useless details that infected his brain like parasites.
It made him sick.
He hated how badly he wanted you because Zayne had never been soft for anyone before. He never cared enough to memorize somebodyâs schedule, neither did he ever stared at a phone screen for an hour debating whether or not to send a text. And he for sure never switched jewelry because of another person.
But now the ring on his finger wasnât his initial anymore, it was yours.
Heâd bought cheap metal letter charms online at two in the morning after spiraling for six straight hours thinking about you laughing with somebody else in the cafeteria. When it arrived he locked himself in his room and replaced the old charm immediately, fingers trembling the entire time. He told himself it was just something he could laugh at later when he regulates his system again.
But afterward he sat there staring at it with burning ears and a racing heart like heâd just gotten married in secret.
God. He was disgusting.
He memorized your schedule and learned which hallways you preferred, which friends annoyed you, what flavor energy drinks you bought from the vending machine. Sometimes he lingered near classrooms just to hear your voice for five more seconds before going home.
And he still acted like he hated you because if he didnât, he thought he might actually lose his mind.
One rainy afternoon he followed you home from three blocks away, hood pulled over his head while his heartbeat pounded violently against his ribs.
He told himself he was only making sure you got home safe. But even he knew that was bullshit. He knew it when he watched you through rain-soaked streets like something starving, and he knew it when he stood outside your neighborhood for ten whole minutes after you disappeared indoors.
He couldâve left, but istead he stared at your bedroom window until the lights turned on.
Then he went home and wrote six pages about you.
His poems werenât romantic in the normal sense. They read more like confessions somebody would find beside a dead body, messy black ink pressed hard enough to tear paper apart.
He wrote about your throat constantly, about how pretty your pulse looked beneath skin, about how your hand would look wrapped around his neck âlike a chain heâd gladly choke on.â
He wrote about wanting to unzip his ribs and crawl inside your bloodstream just so heâd never have to be away from you again. About how your voice made his insides feel âgooey and rotten sweet.â About how every time you smiled at someone else he imagined peeling his own skin off because jealousy physically hurt"
He hated everyone around you.
Especially guys, guys zayne knew he could never compete with.
Whenever somebody flirted with you, Zayne spiraled for hours afterward. His chest got tight, and his vision got all blurry. He'd bite his nails bloody trying to calm down while imagining their hands touching yours. Sometimes he got so angry he punched walls until his knuckles split open again.
Then heâd feel ashamed, then angry for feeling ashamed, then obsessed all over again.
It became this endless cycle of self-destruction.
At school he only grew meaner because kindness felt too vulnerable now. If he spoke softly to you even once, he thought the entire terrifying truth might spill out of him all at once. So instead he glared harder, mocked you more, hovered around you with this nasty tension simmering beneath his skin.
But there were cracks sometimes, tiny ones.
Like the day somebody shoved you in the hallway accidentally and Zayne snapped so fast it looked almost animalistic. One second he was leaning against a locker half asleep, next he had the guy slammed against the wall by his collar.
âWatch where youâre fucking going,â he hissed.
The guy blinked in shock. âIt was an accidentââ
You remember how strange his face looked afterward. Angry, yes. But scared too. Like seeing you get hurt triggered something unstable inside him. He released the guy abruptly and stormed off before you could even thank him.
That night he replayed the moment obsessively, you touched his wrist for half a second trying to calm him downâjust half a second and he thought about it for three weeks.
Sometimes Zayne scared himself. Especially late at night when everything got quiet and the obsession stopped feeling romantic and started feeling diseased. Heâd stare at his ceiling with hollow eyes while your favorite songs played softly through his headphones, wondering why his chest physically ached whenever he imagined you leaving someday.
You werenât even his.
That was the insane part.
You barely tolerated him yet his entire existence had started orbiting around you anyway.
One night he sat cross-legged on his bedroom floor surrounded by crumpled notebook pages, exhausted eyes fixed on your initial hanging from his ring.
His house downstairs was loud againâhis father yelling, something crashing, his mother crying quietly afterwardâbut he barely heard it anymore. He only heard your laugh trapped inside his skull.
He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes until colors burst behind them. He wanted relief, wanted one single moment where you werenât tangled around every thought he had. But even now his fingers moved automatically toward another notebook.
Another poem.
Another page.
Another pathetic confession nobody would ever read.
He wrote about your eyelashes this time, about wanting to pin every expression you ever made against the inside of his skull forever, about how terrifying it was that somebody as ordinary as you somehow became the center of his entire miserable life.
Then he stopped writing halfway through because his hands were shaking too hard.
Zayne tilted his head back against the wall and stared blankly upward. The ceiling above him was covered in taped-up lyrics and scribbled thoughts and pieces of you. Your name appeared so many times it looked ritualistic like worship.
Maybe thatâs what this was.
Not love.
Not really.
It was just something consuming waiting for him to finally let his guard down and kill him for good.
And stillâif you asked him for anything, heâd give it to you, if you smiled at him gently even once, heâd probably spend the rest of the night trembling over it like a wounded animal finally being touched kindly.
Because despite the snarling and insults and dirty looks, despite the bitterness dripping from every word he threw at youâzayne was hopelessly, violently in love with you.
And it was killing him alive.
emo that would carve ur name into his thighs and touch himself to the smell of ur hair wow drools
A year to fall out of love (and finally realise something is mentally wrong with my ex-crush)
Yan! Ex-crush x former yan! Fem! Reader x ??! upperclassman
CW : 2nd person view, angst, suicide (or is it)?, former yan! Reader used to be an awkwardly sweet, harmless yandere, upperclassman is sussy, cliche plotline, reader is a creep at first, yan! Ex-crush is extremely annoying, disgusting upskirt pictures (not by reader or yan), SET IN THE 2010s.
Word count : 6.4k+ (this surprised me)
pt. 2
Ch. 1 - TAKE A CHANCE ON ME
The only sound filling the entire corridor is the ticking of a century old grandfather clock on the leftmost corner of the passage. Your hands are getting sweatier with each second past, they're trembling with nervousness as if you're a bride to be.
The thought of finally mustering the courage to see your school's counselor is genuinely nerve-wracking. You spent countless days and nights thinking about what you should say, the dreams that lingered with each negative notion you have to endure alone. You're afraid. You don't like that guy anymore. [Name] is a changed woman after the summer break. That's it.
You were so deep in thought that the footsteps nearing you didn't even falter you from what you're pondering about. Soon, there's a soft movement on the sofa beside yours. Finally, the bubble you're in popped prematurely. You snapped your head to your side, only to see your upperclassmanâs soft smile. A rush of blood goes to your cheeks, and you recoil from the closeness.
âS-senior Gabriel?! Did you want to see your father?â You quickly pointed at the door to the counselorâs office with your thumb. The truth is, you've been sitting on the nice sofa in front of the counselor's office for almost half an hour by now. You've been standing, walking, grabbing the knob, but chickened out each time you're about to get in. When another student queued up to see the famous counselor, you let them get in first with a nervous grin. You promised yourself you'll get in right after them, but again, you chickened out.
âHm? No, no. I'm helping Elana move some boxes for the library. And I've seen you sitting here since twenty minutes ago. What got you so nervous, [name]? Did something happen?â His face turned from an eager expression, to a concerned one. You've known Gabriel for a year by now. You're partnered up with him during the first day at school with him as the leader of the pack of new students, which includes you.
Back then, you just recently moved to the town. You didn't know anyone and didn't have any friends. It is deeply unfortunate that you're awkward with new people too. Thankfully, Gabriel was there to introduce you to everyone, and you ended up getting acquainted with everyone. He's too extroverted in a nice way. He could befriend anything. Sometimes you think he can make friends with bugs if that's what he wanted, but maybe that's too dramatic.
And yes, his father, Mr. Rodriguez, is 180° of him. He's pretty quiet, yet is a famous counselor in the school. He's understanding but not in an overbearing way, and he always taught the students where to draw the line, which is what you're trying to do currently. But seeing his stern face makes you back out. You're afraid he'll ridicule you from your mistakes in the past, and even call the police on you.
âUhh⊠I want to see Mr. Rodriguez, but I'm so nervous talking to him.â You mumbled quietly while rubbing your cold hands together. âI mean, he's nice! But it's easier talking to someone like you.â You continued, but your voice gets smaller with each sentence. (Un)Fortunately, Gabriel got a nice pair of ears, and he caught what you said. He got perky again, his eyes shimmered, and soon abruptly stood up. His hand shot towards you, as if offering his palm to be held.
âWell, why don't we talk on the rooftop then? For privacy!â He chirped. You can't help but sweat even more. He's way too excited for this quest, but maybe talking with him will lift some burden from your head. With a nod, you accepted his offer, you wiped your hands before engulfing it with his. You apologized that it's a little wet, but Gabriel doesn't seem to pay any mind. The two of you went up the stairs, while four eyes watched your backs.
In the second floor, Ludwig Kappel looked up at you and your seniorâs fleeting shadows as you two bolted up the stairs. His left eyebrow couldn't help but twitch from curiosity and something akin to annoyance. He fixed his pristine school blazer, and the student council badge he attained just a few weeks ago.
âTch⊠how many times have I told everyone not to run on the stairs just today?â He sighed and rubbed his temple out of frustration. Beside him is his vice president, Angeline. The girl could only giggle softly, while looking at the same empty spot.
âJust let them be. [Name] has Gabrielâs help if anything happens to her. He would absolutely help her if something happened.â She hummed and rubbed Ludwigâs shoulder in a calming manner. If she's concentrating on the taller male beside her, he'll see his ears getting redder. The man could only clear his throat.
âShe's way too clumsy to be in a rush like that.â He mumbled, his voice too low and quiet for Angeline to hear. So the girl could only tilt her head in confusion. When the boy noticed her, he shook his head, insinuating that it's probably not important.
âNothing. Let's continue the patrol.â
âŠ
On the contrary, [name] and Gabriel has just arrived on the rooftop. You're taking deep breaths while clutching on your hoodie. The breeze whilst running is indeed nice, but you're not built for running anywhere, your stamina sucks when it comes to that. Gabriel pulled a small pocket tissue, and handed the whole thing to you. With a nod of thanks, your hand slowly pulled out a pristine white paper, and you wiped your sweat with it.
âYou need to work out more, [name]... You're sweating too much.â He pouted his lips before grabbing a tissue to wipe your brows with. You noticed he always sticks out the tip of his tongue when he's concentrating. It's oddly funny yet endearing at the same time. You can't help but giggle.
âEh? What's wrong?â He asked like a happy puppy. He's still smiling and the wind is making his wavy hair billow in the air. No wonder he's called âMr. Smilesâ. Now that you think about it, you've never seen him get sad or angry. He's just⊠way too optimistic for his own good.
âDid you know you stick out your tongue when you're engrossed in something?â You finally smiled back on him. He seemed surprised. He placed his thumb and index finger on his jaw as if he's in deep thought, before he giggled back at you.
âI actually didn't know! I think I used to have that habit when I was small. Mom used to scold me about it before sheâŠâ He stopped mid sentence and looked far in the distance of the city. You immediately took notice of his change of mood, and shook your hands.
âOh no⊠I didn't mean to bring it up, I'm so sorry, senior.â You looked down in both fear and shame. But soon, a soft palm landed on your back. When you look back up, Gabriel is looking down at you with a worried glance.
âDon't worry about it, [name]. It's not your fault my mother is long dead and gone.â He tried to brighten up the mood and lead you towards the nearby bench. His head kept looking towards the staircase, left and right. He made sure no one was around before gesturing to you to take a seat first.
You thanked him and finally sat on the wooden bench. It groaned a little with your weight, and when he crashed beside you, it made a funny sound, like a loud, creaking door. It took you some minutes to actually prepare yourself for what you've been hiding for months by now.
âI⊠I have a confession to make.â
âŠ
ONE YEAR AGO
Around one year ago, or more precisely, four hundred and thirty days ago, September 19th. Autumn, breezy day. You met Ludwig Kappel and fell in love. You're an orphan, your parents died in a bus crash while you're still at your grandparentsâ home because of measles. You live with your aunt, who's been taking care of you ever since your parents' deaths.
You're late on your first day after your aunt decides to move into a new town to re-open her flower shop. You bolted out from the neighbourhood with a quick sandwich on your right hand, your hair is messy bed hair, you only managed to put moisturizer and sunscreen on your face, and yet you swore you put too much on because you looked so pale now in comparison to your regular skin color.
Then you bumped into your muse himself. Ludwig, Ludwig Kappel. A boy who grew up in the same neighborhood since childhood, couldn't live without a list of things he must finish, and is way too honest that he sounds like a jerk. Your face bounced back after running into his chest, and both of you obviously fell down on the streets. You slowly opened your eyes after the impact, but could only see two blue eyes glaring at you.
âOh shoot!! Sorry, sorry! I didn't mean to bump into you!â You scrambled to help him grab his books and glasses. Thankfully it's not cracked, it seems a little expensive. When you handed them all back to him, he only huffed and pulled a cleaning cloth from his pockets to wipe it down. He looks disgusted, only squeezing the bridge of his glasses with his thumb and index finger.
âAre you a student at Brightsglow?â You tried to be nice and smiled. But he plainly ignored you. You saw the same logo on the blazer and came into that conclusion, but why is he so cold? Yet you feel warm inside for the first time. He's handsome⊠but why did he have to gel his hair up like that? He would absolutely look cuter with hair down. Thankfully, before you can get distracted by your own thoughts, you jogged at him.
âNot much of a talker?â You tried once again, still with the same goofy smile. Now he only rolled his eyes. At least that's a reaction! You followed him like an imprinting kitten, and when you reached the glowy gates of your new school, you couldn't help but gasp in awe. Apparently your parents had saved up money for you until high school, so your aunt signed you up to a nice school to make sure you have a smooth education.
âShut your mouth. A fly might soar inside.â He sighed, while [name] is obviously excited. Finally, this interesting guy is answering her.
âI'm [name]! What's your name?â You peeped while offering your hand for a handshake. It is only proper to give a good impression to a gentleman. The taller student took one look at your hand and only crossed his hands in front of his chest.
âLudwig Kappel. Don't get used to calling my name.â He grunted and scratched his elbow out of irritation. Why is this girl following him around, latching at him like a parasite? She looks so impatient and enthusiastic.
You only hummed and clasped your hands in front of your chest. Ludwig⊠that's a nice name. You followed him all through the corridor to the auditorium where all the new students are cooped at, and thankfully to you and unfortunate for him, you two are in the same class. You took a seat beside him, and smiled at him.
Ludwig meanwhile, looks like he had aged thirty years just from talking to you. He's a very quiet guy. He prefers to do things alone and in his own way because he's a perfectionist. His schedule? Perfect. His test scores? He wouldn't settle for anything lower than a 90. He got an 89 once and his left eye twitched nonstop for a whole week before the teacher decided to change it because he keeps glaring at her.
However, seeing from how you interact and talk with him, Ludwig has a feeling you'll be useful to him. He decided he'll let you be around.
For now.
âŠ
It's been half a year now. You and Ludwig are close friends. At least according to you. If anyone asks Ludwig, he'll just shrug and say you're a scab. Something he wants to scratch off of his body, yet he decided to heal and be gone on his own. You gained other friends besides him because of the help of upperclassmen Gabriel. They've always disliked Ludwig and his harsh behaviour. They've always warned you about him. He doesn't do friends. He's been this way since elementary school.
Yet you're too blinded in the delusion that if you keep pleasing him, he'll finally bounce back to you. Reality decided to prove you wrong. Lunch in March. Spring is starting and you can see cherry blossoms slowly blooming and drifting their leaves apart. You're talking about a new game you'll be hunting on the game store, but Ludwig is looking far away.
âHey! Are you listening to what I'm saying?â You shook his shoulder. Usually doing that will give you his attention again, except he didn't budge this time. You followed his sight and it settled on the student from the other class. Angeline Huang. A genius, straight A student, and most importantly, a beauty.
âBro⊠why are you looking at her like that?â You asked with a furrowed brow. Ludwigâs gaze slowly falters back to his lunch, and he takes a bite of his lunch.
âShe defeated me in the last science competition.â He stated. When you asked for clarification, Ludwig decided to keep his mouth shut and finish his food.
You came into the conclusion that he's crushing. He didn't understand the concept, and your heart breaks little by little. Yet you always keep the same smile you always gave him. When you confronted him about it, he looked equally as confused as you were.
âAre you saying that I'm in love with Miss Huang?â He enquired. You nodded. Obviously?? He kept eyeing her at the class, and every time she answers the teacher's questions, you can see him nodding a little, as if telling himself that she's correct.
âYes??? Did you not hear how you talk with her?â You asked back. He's obviously softer around her. And he controlled his tone and vocabulary better. Like he's trying to butter her up. Not to mention the praises he gave to her. It's like a nail is digging on each of your fingers. It's painful seeing the man of your dreams, who you secretly wrote a diary on, and prayed to the skies to be your boyfriend like someone else.
But deep inside, you know you have nothing to offer. You're not that pretty. Not that smart, and certainly doesn't have the aura to charm him. You're just another passerby in Ludwig's life. So⊠you decided to help him get the love of his life.
You befriended Angeline easier than Ludwig does. The girl is extremely friendly in nature. And soon, you two became close friends. You're the one investigating what type of guy she likes, and discovering what things she likes and dislikes. All of the information? You willingly give to Ludwig, obviously.
It goes as far as helping the guy go on shopping. You recently found out that Angeline likes guys with round glasses and softer personality. So you obviously have to coach him personally regarding that matter.
âOkay⊠so what do we do when someone does something that bothers you, but you're around Angeline? For example⊠They accidentally poured a cup of cold tea on her?â You started the flash quiz with a clap of hands.
âYou're a nuisance.â Ludwig answered.
You can only slap your hand over your forehead. The trial and error of teaching him what to or not to say around a woman is a hassle because he's too truthful.
âNope. We offer Angeline our blazer⊠and if the guy is apologising, let her take the wheel. But if he's being a jerk, you must do something.â You shook an index finger in front of his face. He only nodded and started writing your words like it's a rule. At least he's going somewhere.
As time goes by, you and Ludwig spend more time together. Though it's strictly about Angeline more than anyone else. You taught him how to be more ânormalâ. And be attractive to the lady. You even helped him style his hair to experiment on which one Angeline likes best, though it seems she likes his regular hair better because she keeps giggling after seeing his hair down.
It was now July 24th, the last day of school. And for the first time, you saw Ludwig with an expression that is not his regular resting face. You just got into the class and he's already clenching his fists. You raised an eyebrow at his agitated expression. You crashed on the seat beside him, and saw Angeline laughing with a delinquent. You don't really understand what's happening, and when you ask him about it, he drops the literal bomb.
âHe's been taking pictures of Angelineâs inner skirt.â He grumbled. You're obviously shocked. Ludwig doesn't lie. And he certainly wouldn't say something so outrageous if it's not correct. The delinquent's name is Francis. âUgly ass name for an ugly guyâ, you once said to Ludwig. He's been in and out of the school for causing ruckus, and it's just a month he's back, and he's been chasing Angeline around for a disgusting purpose. The two of you decided to follow them around, and what he said is right. You two were hiding behind a wall, and you saw the guy sneak his phone up to take pics of her panties. A gasp left your lips, but Ludwig pulled your hand back and slapped his hand in front of your mouth before the two of them got suspicious.
âWhat the hell? That's so weird and disgusting! We should've taken a video to report to the guidance counsellor!â You whisper-yelled to him, but Ludwig only grunts.
âI have the solution. Take this.â He handed you a key. Your eyes widened seeing the number on it. It's Francisâ locker key. You didn't even have time to ask how he gets it, because he's already walking towards the stairs.
âMeet me on the rooftop in fifteen minutes.â is the only sentence you heard from him. You then went to the locker room to open Francisâ you only see a few pictures of Francis taking advantage of the female student's kindness to manipulate and force them to get more pictures. What's crazy is there's a printed out screenshot of his messages. Did Ludwig send all of this? You know he's a smart cookie, but this is out of mind. You grabbed all the evidence and slammed the door shut. That's when you heard something fall out from the corner locker. It's Ludwig's locker. You jogged towards it, seeing a plainly beige book on the ground. Your hand grabbed it, and it's already opened to some page. You can see pictures of Angeline. Angeline and you conversing together, or it's just her.
You feel like puking. He's scrutinizing her. Every time she wears new accessories, he'll write it down, each of her interests and things that she hates. He's just like you in a way. Twisted, stuck with obsession and this realisation cracked your skull open. You threw the book inside, and ran to the rooftop.
Each breath you take, you can only hear the sound of your shoes against the polished floor. You're going too quickly, that you accidentally stepped higher on the stairs and fell. You hit your nose, and it quickly starts bleeding. Your leftmost area of lips slowly gets swollen, but you ignore the pain and persist. When you arrived, you saw Ludwig already cornering the delinquent.
âLudwig!â You called out to him. The blond only spared one glance at you. He grunted at the blood running through your nose, clearly it disgusts him. You glared back at him, and threw all the paper and photos on the ground. Francis however, is trembling and laughing nervously.
âLook, Kappel. How much money do you want? I'll pay you hundreds and thousands of dollars if you just keep your mouth shut.â Francis offered. You can see he's trying to control himself. You know this is the wrong time to scream at him but this has gone too far.
âLudwig. You're also stalking Angeline behind her back, aren't you?â You spat back and wiped your nose with your sleeves. Ludwig scowled at you, but you're not backing up, not this time. âWhat do you mean you have her missing hoodie on your locker? And planning to join the student council just to better stalk her?!â You raised your voice. Francis meanwhile, only darted his eyes back and forth between the two of you.
As if finding his way out of this problem, Francis turned his eyes to you. â[Last name]! I'll pay you however you want. This lunatic is just the same as me!â He voiced out and laughed. But now there's four eyes glaring at him. âYou're just a creep, Kappel! A good-for -nothing, goody-two-shoes that's actually the freakiest of them all!â Francis taunted.
Then, everything happens slowly. You saw Ludwig grab Francisâ collar. Then he pinned the delinquent against the railings. âDo not⊠measure my love as the equal of your mistreatment of other ladies.â Ludwig smiled softly and raised the guy further in the air. And before you can pull him back, he pushes Francis off of the fifth floor rails, making you choke on the air.
Ludwig slowly looked back at you, while some tears of dread already brimmed on your eyes. You still remember the sound of Francisâ body hitting the ground. The SPLAT of bones cracking and blood rushing out, and people screaming on the ground floor. Your feet automatically start walking backwards little by little. Your whole body is trembling from the shock, and you stumbled because of the blood loss. You can see him crouching in front of you, and for once, you fear for your life. He has just ended one right in front of you.
â...and without you realising, you've just become my accomplice. In a way.â He muttered, but you can hear him just fine. âThank you for creating an alibi for me. Having you bleed disgustingly like this actually makes everything easier.â He smiled softly, and tapped your cheek. âDo know I can do the same thing to you if you ever decided to be a loud mouth and tell anyone what happened today. You've always been a persistent worm.â It was the last words you heard from Ludwig Kappel. You didn't know when exactly, but you passed out. When you woke up, you're already in the infirmary. You expected the first person you saw beside your bed to be Ludwig, but it's actually Gabriel. He's holding your right hand with worry. And he didn't actually realise you've woken up because he's sleeping, presumably because he waited for you to finally open your eyes again.
âŠ
âI know it's unbelievable. How can the school's âprided geniusâ turn into a âcold-blooded killerâ in my story? But I need to get rid of this tugging feeling on my chest.â You rubbed your hands together, and Gabriel looks way too calm for someone who just heard a story about a murder. He looks more worried at you and your feelings than what happens to Francis.
Slowly, you felt a hand on your upper back. He patted it softly, and his other hand rummaged through his pocket to pull out your favourite brand chocolate bar. âEat this first. Maybe you'll feel better, [name].â He calmly smiled. You nodded and thanked him for the snack. You bit through the bar quietly, and when you finished, you stood up and thanked him for listening to your story.
âThank you for listening, senior⊠I understand if you'll go to the police and report me, b-but can you please do it during the school hours? At least let me be arrested on my own. I don't want to burden my aunt even more.â You looked down at your shoes like a scolded child, but Gabriel only snorted. He shook his head and laughed softly.
â[Name], why would I do that? If anything, I should report the student council president for murdering someone and dragging you in the process.â He whistled and patted your head. You shot your head up, clearly dumbfounded. Why is he acting so casual about this? You didn't have the time to ask him because the bell that indicates the lunch break is done slowly rang. Gabriel sighed at the sound, and he engulfed your hand with his again.
âLet's go, [name]. I'll walk you to your class. I don't want you to be late.â His voice shows how enthusiastic he is, shown by how an octave is raised whenever he's talking to you. You can only mindlessly follow him, walking down each step with him on your side.
âŠ
Ludwig is currently on his way to class 2-C. It's not even his class, but he managed to ask for a class change from his former homeroom teacher. He used to be in class 2-A, a class for all the geniuses around. He actually has to rack his brain to look for an excuse to change to a lower leveled class.
So he settled by saying, âThere's too much pressure in this class. I would like to move to the 2-C class, please.â The teachers inside the faculty room obviously didn't believe a single word he said. He's one of the brightest students the academy has. However, no one dares to question him when he's already looking this serious.
When he entered the room, every chatter died down. His sea-blue eyes eyed the familiar cat keychain [name] always puts on her bag, and once he found it, he placed all his books and belongings there.
Over the course of four months, he discovered new things about Angeline. He confessed to her a few weeks after the summer break and the death of the delinquent, only to find out thatâŠ
1. Angeline is apparently, a lesbian. She's not interested in boys, ever.
2. That [name] actually has a crush on him, which he never noticed, and will never do if Angeline never spilled the beans.
Talk about karmic justice. Heh.
âOh come on, Ludwig. You're telling me you've never noticed how she looks at you?â Angeline laughed and nudged a cup of americano his way. He took a sip and hid his horrified expression. Now that he thinks about it, no one knows his drinking preference. Or how he likes tea more than coffee. Only [name] knows. But he hasn't received your messages since what happened.
âWhat do you mean?â He scrunched his nose and placed the cup back on the table. Angeline only hummed and tapped her fingers against the counter, and sighed from his aloofness.
âShe looks at you like you hung the moon and stars, silly! Dare I say she looks at you with heart eyes everyday!â She sighed. These two silly people in her life are giving her a good kind of headache. Angeline first assumed [name] befriended her without any missions in mind. Now she knows that [name] only befriends her for Ludwig. But she's not really mad at the girl, she's always known there's something deeply concerning with Ludwig's way of thinking, however, as long as she gets the benefit, she wouldn't mind being around him.
Now it's Ludwig's turn to look deep in thought. He actually never knew that. He's never experienced interest or love with [name]. Love is complicated in his eyes. Angeline makes his heart rush with thrill. [Name] doesn't. She's just⊠there, always around him, always happy to help, and always smiling.
âGimme your phone.â Angeline gestured her hand towards him. The blond boy handed it without question. She starts pressing the buttons on the flip phone, and reading each message [name] and Ludwig has.
âYou haven't messaged her in four months?! I thought you two are close friends.â Angeline muttered, and pressed the âupâ button to see the old messages. As expected, it's almost all about her, or [name]âs interests.
âNow I have a feeling you're not really into this friendship, Ludwig.â She sighed and handed back his phone. She knows he's a stoic guy, but she didn't think it goes THIS far. âFriends message each other things they love and want to share. Yet from what I see it's only [name] who tries to message you first everytime.â She shrugged. While Ludwig is furrowing his brow.
He thought that's how things work. Letting her around him is already a privilege, right? Ludwig is stuck on his thoughts the whole time. Even when he goes home, he's still thinking about what Angeline said. âYou should try to reciprocate. She's not a toy, she must've been your first real friend.â Rings in his eardrums even when it's his time to sleep.
The phone on the nightstand is snatched by his hand. He searched through his contact numbers, and finally pressed on [name]âs. He doesn't know why, but his heart is beating so hard against his ribcage. He slowly typed a message with both thumbs, yet the ringing made him uncomfortable.
[Ludwig] : [name], are you there?
Does asking that makes him clingy? He decided not to ponder about it too much, and just send it. He closed his eyelids and placed his flip phone in between his chest. He predicted she'll answer in three seconds. Just like Angeline said, he never messaged first. Seeing the message must've left you so elated and speechless. A second past⊠then a minute. He cracked one eye open and frowned. He checked his phone, and saw no notification.
âŠMaybe you're already asleep. He goes to bed with a confused mind, and wakes up with a bad mood. He keeps waking up every an hour or two to check if she has replied, and she hasn't. In the morning, he woke up at around 8. The first thing he's supposed to do is to go to the bathroom, brush his teeth and wash his face, then tidy up his bed. But for once, he breaks his routine and checks his phone first.
He's already having so much optimism. For once, a hopeful look graced his face. Though it quickly fades away after he sees the systemâs message.
[THIS NUMBER IS NO LONGER ACTIVE]
Ludwig doesn't really understand. Did she change her number? If she did, she'll obviously tell him. He went through the break half stressed. And when he found out he's in a different class than hers, he's even more upset. He wants to visit [name]âs house, though now he realised that he doesn't really know where she lives. It's always [name] who visits him.
But at least now they'll be seat buddies again. It's November 23rd 2011. A month and a few weeks after the new school year starts. He genuinely thought you'll be searching for him. Except it seems like you're avoiding him. He feels a little hurt. But Ludwig understands where you're coming from. He's been so mean and rude to you. He'll try his best to fix it though. He corrected his tie and cleared his throat, waiting for you again.
When he saw your reflection through the class windows, he straightened up like an eager kitty. However, when he saw Gabriel beside you, holding your hand, he could feel something gnawing on his head. His eye twitched as he saw Gabriel smile and pet your hair with so much affection.
Who does he even think he is? Why is he touching you? Ludwig never even did that. Why is this upperclassman acting like he knows you inside out?
Ah, Ludwig has a feeling that it is going to be a rough school year.
âŠ
You are receiving some head pats from Gabriel. He's always been touchy, but he technically asks you first, and you've given him consent to go on. He never passed any line though, just touching hands and petting your hair. He insists it's because your hair looks so pretty and soft. Unlike his, which is a little dry from running on the school field almost everyday.
âDon't worry about anything, [name]. I promise I'll keep my mouth shut. It's not your fault that incident happened. But if you need anything, just go to me or my father, okay?â He cooed like a mother hen. You only nodded and thanked him, even going as far to bowing your head to him. He shook his hands and smiled again.
âOh! And do tell me if that weirdo decided to bother you again.â Gabriel grinned but when he spoke, he looked through the window, straight to Ludwig's blue eyes. His soft gaze turned into a wicked look. The student council president could only scoff. âAnd don't call me Senior Gabriel anymore. It makes me sound old, you know? Just call me Gabe!â You as always, obediently nodded. You're thankful that Gabriel is so understanding. He never judged you, or anyone, really. At least as far as you know.
After saying your goodbyes, you get inside the class. You're so lightheaded from crying and hugging your senior, that you didn't even see a certain blond headed guy beside you. Only when he clears his throat that you finally see who's beside you. When you see Ludwig, you recoil so hard and fast, and even scream a little from the shock.
â...did I scare you?â Ludwig asked with a furrowed brow. âMy apologies.â He continued. It's actually the first time he's ever apologised to you. Your heart rate is through the roof though. Did he move classes? You're already throwing a happy party inside your brain when you found out you're placed in class 2-C. Class for the normal people. The average. The mediocre. Ordinary people.
âH-hey Ludwig. Long time no see.â You nervously laughed and coughed. Seeing him again after trying your best to hide and ignore him is actually nerve-racking. Ludwig nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. You noticed he does that A LOT around Angeline, mostly because he's nervous around her. But there's no way he's nervous around YOU out of all people.
âMay I ask why you're with Gabriel?â Ludwig didn't even realise his expression is currently scaring you. Knitted brows, scrunched nose, and tight-lipped after saying his question. On the other hand, you're having a panic attack. Is he suspicious of you?? He must've been thinking you're snitching on him. He's going to kill you. God, the fear is actually making you about to pass out.
âN-nothing⊠I just⊠I almost passed out because of my low blood sugar level. And he gave me chocolate for it.â You lied, and to be honest it's a bad lie. You braced yourself to get ridiculed by him, but he looks concerned.
âYou have low blood sugar? You've never told me that. You should've gone to the infirmary and rest. Not running everywhere with him.â He sighed. But it seems like he trusts your words. You took a deep breather and smiled again. Now the silence is awkward. Usually you're the one doing all the talking, and he's listening. Now the situation is flipped, and you don't know how to respond.
Thankfully the class is about to start. You can see your Biology teacher getting inside the class and the man is a little shocked seeing the golden student of the academy sitting beside ordinary [name]. But he decided to keep his mouth shut. Because after all, Ludwig is not really a student anyone should be trifling with. Your class once signed him up for a debate competition all around the class, and he obliterated everyone, even the teachers.
You could only hope time goes quickly now. You don't know why he's sitting in your ordinary class. And to be honest, you didn't want to know. This is your karma for being a matchmaker for a psychopath, it seems.
âŠ
Gabriel is quietly tapping on his Geography book. He's thinking about what he should do after school. Usually he goes for a jog around the neighborhood, where he'll meet his favourite junior, aka [name] and walk her home every couple of days. Maybe he'll go to the market every Friday where he'll accidentally meet [name] and her aunt who's grocery shopping too. He rested his head against the table and smiled.
His father has been scolding him. He's getting sloppy. He's not hiding the coincidences well, but how can Gabriel do it? He's just so entranced by you since the first day he saw you and that annoying brute entering the school together. He actually has to rig the grouping after seeing one of his friends get your name after the introductions of all the students. You're just something he had to protect, especially because you've wasted a year with good-for-nothing Ludwig.
He decided to just cook curry for him and his dad. Sometimes the counselor is correct, seeing you too much might bore you. Giving some space for you will be better for the two of you.
âŠ
Now, if you're thinking about why did you see Gabriel first after passing out on Ludwig's arms. Maybe it's time to think and rewind.
Perhaps it's not just you, Ludwig and Francis on the rooftop that day.
Maybe there's someone else?
Maybe that someoneâŠ
Is the same man you idolize?
Perchance, only Gabrielâs phone knows the truth, where it contains one material Ludwig and you would dread to discover.
A/N : hello my darlings!! This is a silly parody of cliche yandere stories, our dear [name] is on her way to redemption, but of course someone has to disturb her⊠anyways I had so much fun writing this zzz
If anyone wanted to be tagged lemme know.
Reblogs are appreciated!! Reqs and asks are always open!
nerdjoâs high maintenance gf is his prettiest distraction !
I. DISTRACTION #1: NO KISSING IN THE LECTURE HALLS !
time: 8:46 am location: Curtis Lecture Hall I (CLH-I)
gojo satoru is typing one handed because his other hand is pressed between your thighs.
not that he minds. 8AM thursday means excel sheets & a cup of hot coffee to keep his bleary eyes open. gojo satoru is tryingâtrying to focus, but his pretty girl is talking a mile a minute and heâll be damned if he didnât reply to your every word.
âit was so hard getting out of bed today, toru,â you pout up at him, chin on his shoulder & gloss sticky on his sleeve. âi told kento to stop by and wake me up on his way to class. can you believe he didnât?â
âiâm very proud of you for getting out of bed regardless.â
âthank you. it was very hard.â
you sigh against his shoulder. âheâs probably still mad i cussed him out,â you huff, reaching up to twirl the hairs on his nape. âall because i put him on cherry crush and he tried to act like he discovered it first.â
satoruâs eyes are still on his screen, so you squeeze his palm between your thighs to bring him back to you. âheâs so petty, toru.â
âvery petty, baby.â
you frown. itâs been exactly thirteen minutes and forty-two seconds since satoru looked at you last. heâs been on this stupid spreadsheet since class started, and itâs really starting to piss you off.
so you block his view.
âlook at my fingers, toru,â you breathe, lifting your hand in front of his face. âi was in such a rush i forgot my rings. my hand looks so ugly.â
he lifts his headâjust slightly, just enough that he can focus on the screen & not your hand in front of himâ& replies without a beat. âlooks pretty, baby,â he murmurs, kissing the back of your hand. âso gorgeous.â
oh, thatâs enough.
âtoru.â
âhm, baby?â
âkiss me.â
gojo satoru chokes on his tongue. he freezes, blue eyes leaving the screen only to dart around the crowded lecture hall in alarm. he lets his eyes drop to you, and perhaps he shouldnât have, because youâre looking up at him with glossy lips & too-big eyes & lashes that flutter in that way that means trouble. gojo gulps.
âwe canât do that right now, sweetheart,â his voice catches. youâre pouting up at him but satoru only cups your cheek and tries to reason with you. âweâre in public. can you wait for me, angel?â
your brows furrow, lips wobbling into that pout that only spells out gojoâs demise.
âare you ashamed to kiss me in public?â you croak, fake sniffling. âam i that ugly?â
youâre not ugly. youâre the most beautiful girl in the world, you know it, satoru knows it, & he also knows youâre doing this on purpose. but your eyes are so glossy. your breathingâs all hitched. your shoulders shake like youâre about to sobâ
gojo satoru folds under zero pressure.
he cups your face, thumb brushing faux tears off your lashes as he presses his lips to yours. you taste like strawberry candy & something too sweet to have a name. gojo sighs into your mouth. cocks his head. pulls back just to lean in again when your lashes flutter up at him all pretty. he lets his thumb tug your lip and tongue lick your teeth andâ
âahem.â
you both freeze.
in the row in front of you the nanami kento is there, frown on his face & completely unamused. there are pens littered on his desk & his laptop is wide openâis he reading semantic error?
he eyes you both, lips curled in disgust.
âthis is not a love nest.â
you & satoru are blinking in disbelief when nanami turns back to his laptop. he slams it shut in embarrassment when heâs met with an inappropriate panel onscreen.
II. DISTRACTION #2: NETWORKING â NOT WORKING â
time: 7:14 pm. location: Bergeron Center for Engineering Excellence
â-â
gojo satoru has five minutes until the most important meeting of his life.
an opportunity to pitch one of his latest projects to some high-class engineering recruitersâlucky him! heâs in a private office with his speech in his hands, and his beautiful girlfriend kicking her feet on the office table.
youâre supposed to be his supportive plus-one. and gojo does feel supportedâhow could he not when the love of his life is here for him, dressed up like a midsummer dream? but gojo thinks heâd feel even more supported if you werenât bracketing his thighs & tugging on his tie every time he tries to speak.
âthank you all for coming. iâm honored to have this opportunityââ
âsatoruu,â you coo. âi miss you.â
gojo satoru knows better than to sigh. he does it anyway, collapsing into your neck in resignation as he squeezes your hips. youâre pressing a glossy kiss to his jaw. âiâm right here, sweetheart,â he mumbles, closing his eyes. âwill you let me focus?â
you nod sweetly, squeaking a little when he presses a kiss to your neck in thanks.
âthank you all for coming. iâm honored to have this opportunity to presentââ
âsatoruu,â
thirteen words this time. fairs.
âyes, sweetheart.â
âmy feet hurt,â you pout, kicking your feet up to show him. for once, youâre not being dramatic. even with your heels on satoru can see the sides of your feet reddening, flushed & slightly swollen against the material. his brows furrow. âhowâd this happen, angelâŠ?â
he kneels down to slip your heels off. you pout: âi got new heels so iâd look pretty for your presentation. now my feet hurt and iâve ruined everything.â
satoru frowns, but youâre still spiraling. lips wobbly, eyes all glossy & nose wrinkled in lament. gojoâs heart goes sticky in his chest. how could you possibly ruin everything when you are everything?
he reaches up to wipe a tear off your cheek. âlook at me, baby,â he murmurs, other hand rubbing circles on your ankles. he looks devastating like thisâhair messy, tie loose from all your tugging & knees on the floor for you even though heâs in his finest dress pants. âyou didnât ruin anything, okay baby? look.â
he slips off your heels, then his own leather shoes, & laces them onto your bare feet. âwear these.â
you blink as he lifts you off the table, kneeling back down to adjust the shoes better. you wiggle your toes. your feet donât even reach the middle, and you almost fall trying to walk two steps, but the gesture alone has you beaming. you turn to him with your lips bent in a clumsy smile.
âtheyâre huge, toru,â you giggle, twirling around in the office. satoru only smiles. his heart goes sticky in his throat. he pulls you into a soft kiss because trying to speak might make his chest hurt.
knock knock.
one of satoruâs classmatesânerd #1âpeeks his head in, expression slightly terrified. âuh, gojo? theyâre ready for you in the boardroom,â he gulps. âyouâre up.â
satoru nods, gathers his speech papers. youâre practicing walking around in his shoes now, arms stretched out to help you balance as you waddle around with a grin on your face. gojo satoru looks down at his feet. theyâre in nothing but a pair of socks.
right.
he sucks in a breath, then turns to kiss your forehead. âstay here where itâs warm, okay?â
youâre still entranced by his shoes, but you chirp out an okay! regardless. satoru bites his lip. itâs showtime.
ââ
the faculty is looking at satoru like heâs grown two heads.
have they never seen a shoeless man before? how rude. heâs standing on the boardroomâs stage now, clipboard in hand, projector lighting up the board behind him. some of the recruiters are nodding. the others are trying not to look at his feet so they canât be accused of classism. gojo satoru is not even poor. a glance at his suit should tell you that.
but gojo doesnât care. he presents without issueâeven though the entire time, his mind is on you.
the boardroom door has a center made of glass. through the pane, satoru can see you back in the officeâyouâve somehow found music controls for the officeâs boombox, and youâre dancingâoh god, youâre dancingâtwirling around with a clumsy smile & laughing when you stumble in his much larger shoes.
satoruâs heart swells. his lip twitches.
gojo turns his focus back to his presentation. heâll work hard to keep you smiling for the rest of your life.
III. DISTRACTION #3 : WHY IS MY GIRLFRIEND IMMUNE TO TUTORINGâŠ
time: 6:14 PM location: The Quad, Satoruâs Apartment.
â-â
âwho discovered america ?â
âMartin Luther King.â
You are going to fail this exam.
âthatâs enough general history today,â gojo mutters, voice croaking in alarm when you give your answer. youâre tucked in his lap, fingers curled in his collar, nose in his neck & completely unbothered. your perfume is sticky in his lungs. âletâs try math. you like math, baby?â
âmhm,â you kiss his jaw. âlove it.â
no you donât. gojo flips open a book with one hand, the other rubbing circles on your thigh. âletâs practice some integrationâŠâ he scans the page for questions while you twirl the hairs on his nape. âokay, this one. can you try this for me, princess?â
your lips tug into a bored frown. âokay,â you lean up to glance at the page, âdone.â
he blinks, âdone?â
âyes,â you flop back against him, soft & pretty & tired & his. âi solved it in my head.â
satoru bites his lip, brows knit in concern. âbaby, you canât solve integrals in your head.â
âi have a very strong brain.â
satoru prays for some strength of his own. okayâokay. he purses his lip. âso strong, baby. do you want to walk me through your process?â
you frown in his neck.
âfirst of all,â you tug his collar, lashes fluttering, âi looked at the numbers.â
âgood job.â
âthen,â you tug his earlobe, âi got bored.â
âoh.â
satoru sighsâof course you did. he purses his lip, blue eyes flitting across the page as his spoiled pretty angel hugs his neck; dreary and tired and âboredâ in his lap. finals are coming up and things are not looking good for you. he prays for strength (again).
you seem to have found some strength of your own. gojoâs not sure when you pick up your phone (which he had confiscated from you earlier), but while he stares into the distance and laments your guaranteed failure, you scroll through your phone with a grin on your lips.
âtoru, look at this bag,â you coo, pushing the bright screen to his face. âitâs so pink and pretty, just like me.â
âjust like you,â he repeats, still staring into the distance.
âwow, nine-hundred-and-fifty dollars,â you kick your feet in his lap. âbaby, can i buy it?â you coo, voice sweet.
satoru blinks out of his daze. he glances at the phone screenâthen at you, suddenly sweet & bright & brimming with energy. his thumb brushes your inner thigh. âbaby, youâre supposed to be studying.â
âi am studying,â you frown, and gojo wants to kiss it off again. âiâm studying consumer behavior. can i have your card?â
there are three reasons gojo satoru should not give you his card.
you are going to fail your exams.
you havenât double-checked if the price is in CAD or USD.
you are going to fail your exams.
gojo lets you have his card.
you squeal, hopping off his lap to retrieve his wallet in the other room. satoru leans back against his desk chair. in front of him, his desk is a mess of opened books & littered pencils, a âget good grades!â subliminal playing on your mini speaker because you insisted the whispered affirmations would guarantee your success. gojo sighs.
âthank you, toru!â you sing as you pad back into the room, a skip in your step. you lean down to kiss his cheek & flop onto his bed to open his laptop. you have his wallet in your hands, and gojo satoru already knows you will not double check the currency.
gojo closes your textbook with a sigh. better luck next time.
ac: (see alt text!) @ to00fu
DISTRACTIONS, end.
HEARTKAJI. do not steal, copy, edit, translate or reupload.
Lookism Boys & How They Flirt When They Actually Like You
Summary: Disaster boy behavior but make it endearing lolol
Authorâs Note: this might be a lil corny, itâs not NSFW so idk. I hope yâall like it
Word Count: 862
ENJOY!!!!
Vasco
Flirting Style: Earnest puppy with zero game
Tells you youâre strong even if you just opened a pickle jar
Brings you random trinkets like a rock that âreminded him of your vibesâ
Accidentally says âI love youâ way too soon and then panics so hard he does damn near melts about it
Thinks doing 200 squats in front of you and flexing his muscles is flirting (itâs working lol)
He blushes so hard when you compliment his tattoos. Expect full stammering, possibly passing out. His tattoos mean a lot to him so for you to like them is amazing.
Bonus: You could kiss his cheek and heâd be so flustered he apologizes for existing.
Zack Lee
Flirting Style: Aggressive gym bro with a gooey center
Challenges you to a fake sparring match so he can definitely lose on purpose (and touch you đ)
âWhat? I didnât mean to fall on you. Maybe you shouldâve dodged.â đ
Will get jealous easily but tries not to show it. He fails miserably like every time.
Literally punches walls after flirting attempts go wrong (He asks Mira for help with you. But she lets him squirm and makes him wing it lol)
Will compliment you mid-argument: âYouâre so fucking annoying⊠and hot. Shit.â
Bonus: If you sneak a kiss during a fight, heâll melt and forget what you were arguing about.
Johan Seong
Flirting Style: Brooding feral dog boy trying to love for the first time
Glares at anyone who gets too close to you (yes, even strangers. It can be embarrassing)
Has no idea how to flirt so he just⊠does things for you. Fixes your bike. Carries your books. Murders your enemies.
Once brought you an injured bird and said it âreminded him of you.â Youâre still trying to unpack that symbolism.
Will not say âI like you,â but will take a punch for you and then ask if you ate today. Like????
Blushes if you catch him staring. Denies it even when red as a tomato.
Bonus: If you patch him up after a fight, he will fall in love. Again. Harder.
Vin Jin
Flirting Style: Chaotic loudmouth with hidden softboi vibes and a negging problem lol
Roasts you 24/7 but would actually die if someone else did
âYouâre kinda ugly when you laugh⊠I mean itâs cuteâwaitâno, shut upâ
Sends you memes instead of saying âI miss youâ
Offers to DJ a playlist just for you but insists itâs ânot a big deal or anythingâ
Heâs LOUD but if you whisper something sweet in his ear? Heâll short-circuit.
Bonus: Take his glasses off and tell him he looks good. Heâll probably combust and start teasing you about something dumb to hide his flustered face.
Jake Kim
Flirting Style: Low-key mob boyfriend energy, acts chill but is dying inside from the cuteness aggression you give him.
âYou good?â translates to âIâve been thinking about you all day and Iâm obsessedâ
Leans on things when you talk: doors, walls, your shoulder if heâs brave
Subtly matches your outfits and pretends itâs coincidence
Buys you something practical (âThought you might need this.â) but wonât admit it took him 3 hours to pick out
Gets quiet and smiley when you laugh. He notices everything about your face when you laugh.
Bonus: When you gently trace your fingers along his scars (face or body, you pick), heâs flustered and already imagining joint bank accounts.
Warren Chae
Flirting Style: Golden retriever x protective big bro hybrid
Calls you âbroâ for way too long even though everyone knows heâs into you
Starts working out harder after you compliment his muscles ONCE
Brags about you to the other Hostel members like: âY/N said I was cool. They meant it, man!â
Offers to teach you how to fight, but is terrified of accidentally hurting you
Gets flustered by physical touch. Like you bump shoulders and he suddenly forgets how to breathe.
Bonus: If you ask to wear his hoodie, heâll go speechless and just nod like an NPC loading new emotions lolol
I hope you guys had a good time with this one. Hereâs Part 2. BYE!!!
I KNOW YOU WANT ME, SO WHY WONâT YOU ACT LIKE IT ?
sum: when you reject fratjo because of his playboy reputation, can his frat brothersâand real brotherâhelp him win you over & prove heâs not a player ?
NICE GUY TACTICS #1: STOP TALKING, START LISTENING !
taught by: nanami kento
âmaybe if you listened to y/n as much as you spoke, sheâd finally give you a chance.â
ÎŁX
at a desk behind a bookcase somewhere in birge-carnegie library, nanami kento has a book in his hands & sato gojoâs voice in his ears.
âârich, handsome, charismatic, compassionate,â sato counts the words on his fingers. âiâm all these things and y/n still rejected me! can you believe it, kenny?â
nanami kento does not give a fuck.
4PM thursday means a box of timbits & the latest volume of nanamiâs new favorite BL manhwa. heâs trying to root for cirrus as he pursues his love interest, skylar, but sato gojoâs whining in his ears makes concentrating very, very difficult. nanami snaps his book shut.
âfirst of all, can you please sit like a child of God?â
across from him, sato gojo is all loose limbs & no decorum; legs open & spread over the mahogany table as he leans back just enough to rock in the wooden chair. he has his arms folded behind his head but when kento snaps, he sits up. his lips are tugged in a stubborn, trying-to-be-cute frown:
âkento,â sato pouts. âhelp me.â
nanami kento drags a palm over his face. his collar feels tight on his neck & his fingers twitch over his book but sato has his lips pouting & lashes fluttering across from him. if helping out means sato will leave him alone to focus on reading lost in the cloud, who is he to refuse?
RULE #1: TALK LESS, LISTEN MORE !
sato gojo finds you somewhere on the second floor.
he didnât mean to find you, really. heaven knows he was only on the way to the bathroom, snapchat map clearly not open to your location. at the desk you have your knees to your chest & a marker in your teeth as you frown at your textbook, and sato has to swallow the ache in his throat because your lips are all pouty & glossy & bruised against the marker-cap. fuck.
he strolls over, smile easy & hands in his pockets like you donât make him shed nerves by the pint.
ây/n l/n,â he grins, leaning over the chair across from you. âfancy seeing you here.â
âdonât make me reject you twice in one week, sato.â
sato gojo bites his lip. your eyes donât care to meet his as you speak & sato can only watch as you twirl your marker in your teeth. god, youâre so pretty. and god, youâre so mean, shutting him down every time he tries to speak to you because of his âplayboy reputationâ. bullshit.
heâs silent for a beat. âyou have sharpie on your nose.â
you blink, hands slowly lifting to your face to rub at your nose. your fingers come back stained in black, & sato gojo can only bite back a smile as you frown at your palms.
âoh my god,â you groan.
âcute,â sato chuckles, pulling out the chair to sit across from you. youâre frowning at him now, lips curled in distrust. but sato doesnât miss the heat in your cheeks, the glint in your eyes. he makes himself comfortable & leans forward over the table:
âso whatâs got you so mad youâre drawing on your face?â
you frown, but sato still gazes at you with that stupid grin & a twinkle in his eyes. you sigh, licking your molars, eyes flitting back to your textbook.
âmy group mates,â you tap your marker. âthey dumped all the work on me, again. something about me being the âsmart oneâ anyways.â
sato nods, but his attention is split. half of his mind is on the way your gloss spoils in the heat. the other halfâs focused on how your lashes flutter even though youâre grumbling. his stomach aches.
âi get that, yâknow.â
you blink up at him. âyou do?â
he misses the snark in your tone. âpeople expecting stuff from me, itâs exhausting.â he leans forward, takes the marker from between your fingers & taps it against your knuckles. âfor me, itâs girls.â
ââŠgirls?â
âmhm,â heâs still playing with your knuckles, tapping the marker-cap to the bone, lifting each finger & cocking his head like heâs inspecting them. âtons of âem, blowing up my phone just because i was nice to them once,â he tugs your thumb wistfully before leaning back. âit gets tiring.â
ââŠgirls.â
âyeah,â sato nods. âgirls.â
itâs silent for a beat, satoâs eyes boring into yours. his gaze is tender, nose red, & the marker that was once in your hands is somehow between his lips. his lashes flutter in the light.
you canât believe heâs deadass.
youâre packing your books now, orgo chem & other textbooks shoving into your book bag. sato watches with his brows knit in confusion. âhey, heyâwhere are you goingâ?!â
you leave the library and donât look back.
NANAMIâS REMARK : WHAT KIND OF MISCOMMUNICATION TROPE IS THISâŠ?
NICE GUY TACTICS #2: PLAYBOY? NAH, PAYBOY !
taught by: toji zenin
âgirls like you for your face but stay for the black card. stop talking and start spending.â
ÎŁX
itâs tuesday again, and toru gojoâs room is filled with practically everyone but himself. sukunaâs palming his dick with his phone in one hand & toruâs bedsheets covering the other. satoâs twirling a beach ball even though itâs the peak of spring. toji zenin is tugging black tights over his thick thighs, upper half already covered in an equally tight black leotard.
âso,â sato hugs the beach ball to his chin. ânew job?â
âdance instructor for katseye,â toji grumbles, struggling to fit the tights over his ass. sato bites his cheek.
âwhat happened with skai jackson? thought you were working as her personal AI prompt writer.â
âfired. and the brat says AI is bad anyways.â
sato nods. on the bed beside him, sukuna has blown his load & is laid back against toruâs sheets. he has a hand behind his head & the other resting lazy against his cock. ânice ass, zenin. howâs megumi anyways? havenât seen the lilâ squirt in a while.â
toji doesnât look up, still shifting the tights over his buttocks. âdonât talk about my son with your dick in your hands.â
sato drops the ball to his lap and groans. âcan you guys believe iâm still having no luck with y/n?â
âoh, brother.â
sato shoots sukuna a glare. he slumps against the wall, âiâve tried listening to her, just like kento suggested. no fucking luck.â
in front of the mirror, toji zenin has succeeded in fitting the tights over his taut ass. sukuna asks him to do a spin & toji tells him to fuck off. sato watches the exchange with a slight pout before his eyes drop to tojiâs crotch. damn. he was no expert in print catching, but that dick was definitely a D+.
he shakes the image of tojiâs dick away. âi really donât know what to do about y/n.â
toji picks up his duffel bag. âyouâre a gojo, right? you got money?â
âyeah?â
âthen use it, dumbass,â toji grunts. âpull out that black card and pay your way into her good books.â
sato only frowns. ây/n doesnât seem like the materialistic type, though.â
âall women are materialistic,â toji mutters, fumbling through drawers for his keys. sukuna throws them at his head, & tojiâs smart enough to pick them up with a tissue to avoid getting precum on his hands. âiâm not gonna ask why you were with my keys. and sato, take my advice if you want a chance with this chick.â
toji exits the room. sukuna has his dick out again, and sato contemplates his next steps as sukuna moans in pleasure beside him.
# SHOW TIME !
at the campus bookstore, thereâs a line of 20 students glaring holes into your back.
four textbooks, a lab coat, & five other things youâll use for class & never touch again. at 214 college street, thereâs a heat in your cheeks & an ache in your stomach as the cashier hands you back your card. declined.
âsorry, can you just try again? or could i split the total between two cardsâ?â
âmiss, iâm afraid youâre holding up the line.â
your lips are already bruised & half-bitten when someone sighs loudly behind you. youâre scrambling for another card with too many books in your hands but before you can find one something hard presses against your back.
âsheâs with me. put everything she has on here.â
gojo sato has his chest smushed against your back & laliqueâs encre noire pricking at your nose. he leans over you to hand his black card to the cashier, who takes it from him with glee.
you tense from the feel of his skin. you bite your lip as you watch the cashier swipe the card, & youâre fiddling with your fingers as your cheeks flush in embarrassment.
ârelax,â sato murmurs in your ear. âiâve got you.â
and you do. your shoulders slump into him. your breathing steadies. you donât even mind the way satoâs hair tickles your ear as he leans over you, or the way his palm has climbed up to meet your hip. he mumbles a sorry as he presses you closer to the counter. his palm doesnât fall afterward, & your spine tingles when his thumb brushes your side.
âhere you go!â
the cashier hands you the bags with a smile as stretched as plastic. sato takes the bags instead, and you watch, wide-eyed & stupefied, as he carries the heavy load all in one toned hand. he walks slightly ahead for a bit before he reaches out his palm behind him. he makes a grabby hand & you take it with a blink.
he gently tugs you forward to walk beside him. heâs grinning, âHi.â
âHi.â
his smile grows. youâre peering up at him with wide eyes & god youâre so cute, youâre always so fucking cute, and god. his heartâs all swollen & sticky in his chest.
his hand shifts to your waist now, brushing up & down gently. âgood thing i was close by, right?â
âthank youââ
âno need to thank me, sweetheart.â he hums, pressing you flush against his side as you walk together. âi know people like you are usually impoverished. thatâs why you study so hard, right?â
you blink, âwhat?â
sato doesnât hear you. âi saw you struggling to pay,â he sing-songs, eyes shut & grin pleased. âso i generously thought to step in. pretty girls like you shouldnât have to pay anyways.â
you stop in your tracks. his thumb is still rubbing slow circles on your hip. âsato.â
âhm, baby?â
âdonât ever show your face to me again.â
you leave him on the street with your books in his hands & his heart in his throat.
TOJIâS REMARK : đ€Šđżââïž
NICE GUY TACTICS #3: LET HER COME TO YOU !
taught by: geto suguru
âyouâre doing too much. sometimes you gotta give girls space and let them come to you.â
ÎŁX
âiâm actually creasing!â
itâs thursday again, and sato gojo is sitting cross-legged on his bed with sukunaâs head resting lazy on his lap. through his macbook screen geto suguru is laughing hysterically, tears in his eyes as sukuna snickers on satoâs leg with a palm clutched over his mouth.
theyâre all wheezingâwith the sole exception of sato gojo, of course.
suguru wipes his tears on his cashmere knit sweater. heâs looking all neat & proper, hair tied back & the picture of perfection. suguru is away in manchester for a study abroad semester. sato misses him badly.
till he opens his mouth again.
âi canât lie, yeah,â suguru dabs at his eyes. âyouâve absolutely bottled it.â
âcan you drop the british accent? youâre a first gen japanese immigrant.â
âallow it,â suguru shakes his head. sukuna is throwing up peace signs at the camera so balloons rise up on the facetime screen. âto call the girl you like impoverishedâŠâ suguru says through balloons, âjust pack it in, mate.â
sukuna props his head up so his face is on the screen. his smile is clumsy: âyour boyâs a proper wasteman.â
suguru grins, âis he?â
sato groans. âi was being a provider. following tojiâs advice.â
âmind you, the man canât even provide for himself.â
suguru snickers at that. ânot too much, ryomen. and sato, donât you think youâre trying too hard?â
âi donât think iâm trying enough.â
âi think youâre trying in the wrong direction,â geto leans back, all calm & cashmere soft. âgive her some breathing roomâsome space. let her come to you.â
sukuna bends his hands into a heart & a heart bubble appears on-screen. âmight be your only option at this point. suguru, can i play on your sims 4 save file?â
âabsolutely not.â
sukuna breaks the heart.
sato gojo has his back slumped over, brows knit, & lips twisted in concentration.
he has your books in your hand from the other day. is he wearing your lab coat?
you shake the thoughts away & keep walking. youâve got a test in two hours. a project due in three. screw sato gojo & his rich kid privilege & clumsy smile & bright blue eyes andâ
sato scurries behind you just to lean back coolly against yet another bulletin board. what the hell is his problem?
you snap, whipping around. âsato! what are you doing ?!â
his eyes widen. heâs still leaned against the bulletin board, your books in his arms & his hair messy-cute. thereâs red on his cheeks & his eyes widen before he fixes his face & plasters on that smooth smirk:
âiâm letting you come to me.â
you blink. âno, iâm going to class.â
âand then youâre coming to me afterwards.â
âno, i donât fucking think i am.â
he slumps forward as if your words are a weight on his shoulders. heâs pouting now as he walks up to you, your books hugged tightly to his chest. âi owe you an apology.â
âdo you?â
âyesâgod, yes i do.â heâs close now, too close. ây/n, iâm so fucking sorry. i wasnât thinking straight. i was trying so hard to impress you and look like a provider but ended up sounding like some classist prick. youâre fucking amazingâstrong, smart, independentâgod, youâre my inspiration. please donât make me stay away from you,â he clutches his chest. âmy heart canât fucking take it.â
sato gojo looks like an idiot.
your lab coat shrugged lazy over his shoulders, thick books pressed to his chest & a gaze too tender. he keeps his eyes on yours but his pupils shift like theyâre heavy with nerves. you bite your lip. fuck.
âi forgive you,â
he blinks, straightens up. âreally?â
âyes, really,â you murmur, picking out each book from his hold. he watches as you pluck them into your arms, your nose flushed & lashes fluttering, & his gaze is all misty. his heart goes sticky in his chest.
âi really like you.â
oh fuck. he didnât mean to say that. he meant it, oh god, he meant it, but he didnât mean to fucking say it andâ
âi know,â you peer up at him, voice soft & gaze gentle in the heat. âwalk me to class?â
he takes your books back into his arms. your lecture is two hours too long but sato gojo waits outside the whole time.
GETOâS REMARK : NEAR DISASTER; BUT CHEERS, MATE !
NICE GUY TACTICS #4: ACT LIKE YOUâRE THE PRIZE !
taught by: ryomen sukuna
âact like youâve already got her, and you finally will. law of assumption or whatever.â
ÎŁX
in toru gojoâs room, ryomen sukuna is playing the sims 4 because he has no respect for suguruâs wishes.
sato gojo is on his bed, cheeks flushed & head dizzy. heâs still brushing a thumb over his palm, heat prickling at his skin as he remembers the way you held on when he picked you up after class. your hands were so soft, & youâre so pretty, & gojo sato is utterly fucked.
youâd frowned up at him when you found him waiting but let him hold your hand & guide you to the library regardless. sato tries to breathe. the air goes sticky in his lungs.
at toruâs desk, sukuna is drowning getoâs sim. âwhy are you smiling like an idiot?â he mutters.
âryomen,â sato exhales. âi think iâm in love.â
sukuna scoffs, then grins when suguruâs sim kitchen catches fire. âso? you guys are dating now?â
ânot yet,â sato sighs, easing into the covers. âto be honest, iâm not even sure she likes me. at least, not the way i like her.â
âmm. i think she just tolerates you.â / âshut the fuck up.â
âlisten,â sukunaâs typing cheat codes into the game now. âyou want her to be yours? act like she already is. itâs the law of assumption.â
sato blinks. âyou believe in manifestation?â
âi use subliminals. how do you think i got my dick so big?â
sato doesnât comment. âby the way, suguruâs sim asked yours for a divorce. just thought you should know that.â
sato sits up, suddenly serious. ânew save file. now.â
# SHOW TIME !
sigma-chiâs frat house is blaring speakers & bodies pressed together on a friday evening.
sato gojo has a cup in his hands & liquor in his teeth. beside him sukunaâs on a chair chugging beer, porn playing in his headphones so he can have a dick print. his technique seems to be workingâtwo bodies to the left, thereâs a girl & her friend. sato overhears them conclude sukuna must be a D.
in satoâs ears, however, heâs playing an attract your crush! subliminalâhand-picked & recommended by ryomen sukuna, of course. he has his hands in his pockets, cap slumped & limbs lazyâuntil he spots you.
glossed hair, glazed lips & your tongue in your cheek. youâre wearing a skirt too short to be sweet & now sato has his tongue in his cheek too. youâre shifting around as if nervousâas if youâd rather not be here, & satoâs heart aches with something akin to want.
he doesnât realize when his body starts moving.
youâre faced away from him, lips bitten, so he takes your hand from behind. you jolt, âohâhi.â
âhi, baby,â he mutters, guiding you closer. âyou look pretty.â
âthank you,â you murmur, breathless. satoâs arms loop around your hips. you only lift your palms to rest on his chest.
âhave you had anything to drink?â
you shake your head, and satoâs hands are climbing higher now, under your top & grazing your spine. his hands are cold, so cold.
sukunaâs subliminal is still buzzing in his ears. heâs always been a daring boy, so he takes the leap. cups your cheek with a palm. brushes your waist when you shiver. âi can get you something.â
âthat would be nice.â
he nods & guides you towards the bar.
ââ
sato gojoâs not sure how heâs done it.
youâre so pliant today. soft & unguarded, warm edges & caramel-sweet. even now he has your back pressed against his chest at the bar, hands on your hips, your perfume in his lungs.
you look up at him, âsato?â and he wants to kiss you because your eyes are too big & your voice is too pretty.
âmm?â
he leans down to hear you & his nose brushes your neck. his thumb is brushing circles on the dip beneath your waistband.
âdo youâŠum. do you actually like me?â
oh god.
sato wants to say heâs never liked anyone more. that last night he dreamt about the shape of your frown, that his ribs ache when you ignore him, that his heart scraped against his throat the day he tried to pay for you but he messed up & you left, that he practiced his apology in the mirror till his throat hurt & if you ever said you liked him back heâd swallow his pride & cry.
but the subliminal still hums in his ears. sukunaâs words are still a ghost in the heat. âact like youâve already got her!â
so he clears his throat. puts on that fake confidence like frat boys do.
âdunno,â but his hand grips your hip. âwhy? you want me to give you a chance?â
you still in his hold. sato gojo has fucked up once again.
SUKUNAâS REMARK : DAMN.
NICE GUY TACTICS #5: EGO IS THE ENEMY !
taught by: toru gojo
âiâve played these games before. trust me when i say to just be yourself.â
ÎŁX
that evening, sato gojo has his knees against the tile & acid in his jugular.
heâs bent over the toilet seat, tongue curled & bone in his stomach. toru gojo has his hand in satoâs hair, holding it back as his twin brother spills his guts into the toilet bowl.
âi fucked up,â he rasps, then pukes again. âtoruâtoru. i fucked up,â
his nerdy brother bites his lip. itâs a sight for sore eyesâhis twin on the bathroom floor with split lip & bruised knees, babbling over a girl with red cheeks & eyes watery. toru picks up a towel to wipe his brotherâs face. âyou need to calm downâyou made a mistake. itâs not the end of the world.â
âit is, fuck, it is.â satoâs tears fall faster than toru can wipe. heâs shaking, âyou know this isnât the first time? that i called her poor?â toru winces. âand she let it go like a fucking saint andâhicâi still fucked up. i hurt her again.â
satoâs nose is blotchy red & his eyes are swollen puffy. the tears donât stop. âi always hurt her. toru, why do i always hurt her?â
toru kneels down to his brotherâs shaking figure, one hand on his cheek & the other dabbing his tears. âbecause you keep trying to perform. keep acting like something youâre not.â toru pauses. âlike i was doing before i finally got my girlfriend.â
sato remembersâhow he and his frat brothers gave toru a bunch of âplayboy tacticsâ to woo over his girl. sato shakes his head, sniffling. âiâm not pretending. iâm not fucking pretending.â
âyou are,â toru wipes satoâs nose with his sleeve, then quickly regrets it. âiâve been busy with projects but i know how you get, sato. acting all suave like you donât overthink everything she says. like you donât ask for advice on reddit forums. like you donât make geto roleplay with you so you can decide exactly how to approach her.â
toru pauses, takes in his brotherâs sore eyes & tear-stained cheeks. he hugs his brotherâs head: âi know how you get.â
sato goes limp in his arms. âi really, really like her.â
âi know,â toru squeezes. âwe all do.â
sato lets his head fall limp in his brotherâs neck. he canât help but wish that it was you.
â-
sato gojo has typed your name four times into his notes app because he likes the way it looks on his screen.
then he deletes it, then types it again, then deletes it with tears in his eyes. thereâs still alcohol in his throat & his head is too fucking dizzy. it hurts to breathe & sato gojo canât fucking think.
y/n.
it takes him three tries to spell your name into his contacts. not because he canât spell, but because there are tears clouding his eyes & his throat hurts whenever he tries to sound your name out. y/n y/n y/n. no search results. then he finds your name saved under âbaby :)â & heâs finally able to breathe again.
heâs still half-drunk, and he canât really see, and thereâs a wound in his chest & his thumbs are shaking so he prays to god for strength as he types. sato gojo hasnât been to a church since he was eleven. he canât even spell the word messiah.
SATO:
Hy [deleted]
Hi
y/n iâm so sorry
for everything
ikm such a fucking idiot
when u asked me if i reallly liked u and i said idk and u froze in my arms i felt my heart fucking stop in my chest y/n iâm so sorry
i like you i like you so bad
i donât have the confudence to say it out loud to your face im so sorry
*confidence
i want to be a better man for you
iâm sorry for always hurting you i try not to i swear i do but i always think too hard and say the wrong things i swear i never ever mean to hurt you never ever
i liek you so much iâve never liked any girl the way i like you ever in my life
i take acantability
accowntabikity
accountant
accountabity
iâm sorry im accountable
satoâs eyes blur. heâs not sure if itâs the alcohol or the tears. his hands are shaking but he prays again and heâs able to type just one more message.
SATO: ilikeyouilikeyouilikeyouilikeyou
the typing bubble pops up in the chat. he passes out before he can see your message.
ââ
âwhere is he?â
sato gojo has his nose beneath the covers, lashes sticky with dried tears & want. his hearing is muffled & his head is dizzy so when the lights flick on he retreats further into the covers.
toru gojo kneels in front of him. âsato. wake up.â
âmmrrnnhhhh.â
toru sighs. you walk up next to him and kneel in front of the bed. âsato?â
he stills. he knows that voice anywhere.
slowly, agonizingly, he pulls down the covers. just a little, just an inchâjust because his nose is still blotchy & his eyes are still puffy & he doesnât want you to see him like this. he opens his eyes & god. if this is a dreamâmessiah. please donât wake him up.
you are so beautiful & your eyes are so big & sato gojo canât believe youâre right here in front of him.
âsato. hi.â
he tries to say hi back. his lips part but he canât seem to get anything out.
toru rises to his feet. âiâll get him some water. be right back.â
itâs just you and him now; sato gojo and the only girl heâs ever loved. is it too early to use the word love? youâre resting your chin on folded arms right in front of him & sato does think heâs in love. he hasnât even properly told you he likes you. he has to hurry up and say it.
youâre so close your noses are touching. youâre so pretty & you smell so sweet. âsato.â
âhi, babyââ but then he coughs. âhi, y/n.â
you giggle at that. sato realizes heâs never heard you giggle before. he wants you to giggle again. can you giggle again?
âi got your messages,â
ah. he swallows. âi texted you back and you didnât respond. i got worried so i came here.â
sato canât believe his ears. you worried about him?
he blinks. âi love you.â
your brows furrow.
âiâm sorry for saying it,â his voice is small, shy, slightly muffled beneath the covers. âbut i think it a lot. and iâm sorry for loving you because i know iâm not worthy of your love, or of you in general, but if i said i like you that wouldnât be correct, because the way my heart feels when i think about you is more than âlikeâ,â
he breathes. âso iâm sorry for loving you. but i still love you. iâm sorry.â
you donât know what to say to that. sato gojo is still peering at youâlashes sticky, blue eyes dim yet brimming with light. heâs retreated further into the covers now so all you see is white wisps of hair & those bright blue eyes.
you tug down the covers. he freezes, breathing heavy, eyes wide with both fear & adoration as you climb on top of him.
âsay it again.â
âiâŠlike you.â
âno, the other one.â
oh. âi love you.â
sato gulps. âi love you. i love you i love you i love youââ
you press your lips to his own as he holds your hips. he still says âi love youâ between your lips.
BONUS #1 â Y/NâS MESSAGES !
ââ
baby :)
đđ lol
you donât expect me to acc believe this right?
do you know how many times youâve hurt me these last few weeks and i let it go because my dumbass was in love with you?
*liked you
i was vulnerable and asked if you truly liked me and u said u donât know and some other dumbass shit
thatâs so fucked
youâre so fucked
youâre not fair to me thatâs not fair sato
you say youâre sorry and you like me but you canât even say it to my face? how is that fair? huh sato?
sato
sato?
are you okay
sato
iâm coming over
BONUS #2 â EPILOGUE !
itâs friday again, the end of the week, and sato gojo is at the airport with a grin on his face. his best friend is finally back in town & sato is practically vibrating.
âwell, if it isnât our casanova.â
âsuguru!â sato tackles him in a hug. geto laughs, feet wobbly, patting at satoâs back affectionately. âyouâve got a girl now, mate. back up a bit, yeah?â
sato pulls back, frowning. âno more british accents.â
suguru smiles, âno more.â
in the car they talk about everything. sato should be driving but instead he plays passenger princess, recounting the last few weeks without him.
âso youâve finally gotten the girl.â geto hums.
âyup.â
âand you told her you loved her before you even started dating.â
sato bites his lip. âyes.â
âyouâre down bad.â
âi know.â
âiâm glad youâre happy, yâknow,â geto is talking but satoâs phone dings in his lap. that special notification sound heâs set up only for you.
mineđ«: are you still picking up geto?
sato grins.
â
sato: you miss me, baby?
mineđ«: shut up
iâm still at the library
sato: i know babygirl iâm omw
mineđ«: nooo donât come here
i need to study and u wonât let me focus
sato: thought i was your favorite distraction? đ
mineđ«: ha. ha. donât come here
sato: too late already at the exit
mineđ«: SATO
â-
âsato? are you listening?â
âsorry,â sato mutters, locking his phone. his knee is bouncing & his chest feels light. god, heâs so in love. âtake the next left. suguru, do you know ryomen fucked with our simsâ marriage?â
âhe what?â
âi need you to make a sim for y/n. i want to marry her instead,â sato hums. heâs clicking his phone on & off now, clearly not waiting for your next notification.
âi told that fucker not to touch my game.â
sato licks his canines. âthat boy doesnât listen.â
suguruâs grumbling now, something about a âgood for nothing porn addictâ and âfuckass exhibitionist kinkâ but sato only hums along in the passengers seat. then his phone dings again.
mineđ«: [Image Attachment]
he clicks on it way too fast.
and itâs a picture of you, phone in your lap & pouting down at the camera. your hairâs all messy in your face & your lips are bent in the cutest frown. god, youâre so beautiful. god god god.
he licks his lips. types back: âi love you my baby.â
âsatoâ? sato? what the fuck, man.â suguruâs still gripping the wheel, eyes on the road. âiâve been talking for two minutes. whoâs got you smiling like that?â
his phone dings again.
mineđ«: i love you too, idiot đ
sato smiles. âmy girlfriend.â
SIGMA-CHIâS REMARK : WEâRE HAPPY FOR YOU, BRO.
đŒ summary: taesoo finally found james lee â he figures he should tell the other kings.
đŒ details: no reader, takes place after the dg vs taesoo fight (one night arc)
đŒ wc: 1.4k
đŒ A/N: thanks to the anon who gave me the idea! there's not much source material for any of them, but...i tried my best to write them in character (-.-)
!!! we don't know how long jaegyeon + dg have been working together. if it's revealed he already knew dg's identity during one night arc...we can just say he's playing dumb đ
Taesoo Ma đđ»đ created the group 'ABOUT JAMES LEE'
Jichang Kwak
Taesoo?
JaegyeoNâ€ïž Na đ
Oh ffs
Taesoo Ma đđ»đ
Hello everyone. You know I wouldn't be contacting you all for no reason. I'm recovering in Gangbuk right now and I'd rather not have a group face time. This is about James Lee
SEOKDU WANG
Yeah we can see that. Thanks for making us look like stalkers
Taesoo Ma đđ»đ
Shut up. You know as well as I do how much that prick terrorised us, which is why my people in Ansan made a plan to lure him out. I found James Lee
Jichang Kwak
You have?
JaegyeoNâ€ïž Na đ
Seriously???
DAEHO TEMPLE đ§âžïž
Greetings đ This monk doesn't indulge in technology, but it must've been Buddha's will that this phone fell into my hands...What's this about James Lee?
Taesoo Ma đđ»đ
Hello Gongseob. Still putting up this sham I see
DAEHO TEMPLE đ§âžïž
It must also be Buddha's will to choke you with my prayer beads đđ
Taesoo Ma đđ»đ
I'll snap off that prosthetic leg while you're at it
DAEHO TEMPLE đ§âžïž
You talk as if you don't have a glass eye đ
Jichang Kwak
Jesus Christ, how did you two children manage to rule your regions? Taesoo, you have us all here, so get to the point.
Taesoo Ma đđ»đ
Right, James isn't just in hiding like we all thought. He's taken on a completely new identity, one that's very visible to the public...essentially, he's hiding in plain sight.
SEOKDU WANG
A new identity that's public? Why would James risk that?
Taesoo Ma đđ»đ
No idea. But he fooled me for a good while when I first saw him
Jichang Kwak
But the bottom line is you saw him, right? So who is he?
Taesoo Ma đđ»đ
Yes...and I fought with him. Everyone...this is James Lee
Taesoo Ma đđ»đ
taesoo stares at the screen in confusion. no one sent anything for a good while.
until finally:
DAEHO TEMPLE đ§âžïž
đ§đ§đ§
Jichang Kwak
...You sent the wrong picture
JaegyeoNâ€ïž Na đ
I don't even wanna know why you have this saved. Aren't you a little too old to be listening to him? đŹ
SEOKDU WANG
Exposing yourself in such a way...I'd be embarrassed if I were those Ansan kids
Taesoo Ma đđ»đ
What the hell??? No you idiots. This is James Lee. He's been hiding as Diego Kang, better known as DG, a famous idol.
taesoo blinks as the chat goes silent again.
until...
JaegyeoNâ€ïž Na đ
đ€Łđ€Łđđ
Jichang Kwak
Taesoo...
SEOKDU WANG
Go vegan and these hallucinations won't happen
Taesoo Ma đđ»đ
WHAT??? I've seen him with my own two eyes, this man is James Lee...you guys don't believe me?
DAEHO TEMPLE đ§âžïž
Hoho don't you mean one eye? đ And...lying goes against the 4th precept...
Taesoo Ma đđ»đ
Fuck you firstly. Secondly, WHY would I lie about this? DG is James Lee and he came to Gangbuk once he saw his name was being used...that was the plan to lure him out.
DAEHO TEMPLE đ§âžïž
Taesoo Ma đđ»đ
What would I gain from making this up?
JaegyeoNâ€ïž Na đ
I dunno but I always knew you were weird. No sane man willingly shits in the mountains
Taesoo Ma đđ»đ
??? You know I don't live there, right? And that's not the point. I'm telling the truth. Hudson was there too
SEOKDU WANG
All I'm saying is...you're the most vengeful towards James out of everyone here...so it's not impossible to think you got confused and beat up an innocent celebrity...
Taesoo Ma đđ»đ
WHAT??? THAT'S ABSOLUTELY NOT WHAT HAPPENED
DAEHO TEMPLE đ§âžïž
Taesoo Ma đđ»đ
Send a Buddhist quote one more time I dare you
Jichang Kwak
Everyone...let's stop bickering for a moment. Taesoo, why don't you just tell us everything that happened?
Taesoo Ma đđ»đ
Right...so basically, Hudson made a plan to lure out James by having a crew in Gangbuk use his name. James was obviously hiding for a reason, so he'd want to take out the threats to his concealment.
DAEHO TEMPLE đ§âžïž
Little Hudson! đ His night club in Ansan is fantastic...or so I've heard.
Taesoo Ma đđ»đ
đ Anyway, it worked because James ended up coming. But before that, some 2nd generation kiddies were there...it's surprising but they were quite strong...I felt like I was back in my younger days.
SEOKDU WANG
Going toe to toe with the 2nd generation...this would never happen in Suwon
Taesoo Ma đđ»đ
Whatever. It got interrupted when this guy with pink hair smashed through the window and started fighting me...he did scarily remind me of James but I didn't think too much of it
JaegyeoNâ€ïž Na đ
I'm surprised you didn't recognise someone as famous as DG...then again, it makes sense given where you live đ€
Taesoo Ma đđ»đ
I SAID I DON'T LIVE IN THE MOUNTAINS. And he was wearing some ski mask so I couldn't recognise him either way
Jichang Kwak
How did you know he was James?
Taesoo Ma đđ»đ
That fucker repeated the same lines during our fight back then...that's when I knew. And when he took off his mask, I saw James' face in him. He didn't deny it either, in fact, he confirmed it for me.
DAEHO TEMPLE đ§âžïž
Hmmm...
Taesoo Ma đđ»đ
Listen...I know it's hard to believe, but ignore the pink hair and flashy accessories and just look at his face. Don't tell me he doesn't look like James.
taesoo sighs as the chat goes silent again, bracing himself for whatever mockery they throw at him.
but to his pleasant surprise:
SEOKDU WANG
...He does look like him
JaegyeoNâ€ïž Na đ
And I always thought that kid had good looks...he could've definitely passed as an idol
DAEHO TEMPLE đ§âžïž
They look alike, but how come no one else has noticed?
Taesoo Ma đđ»đ
This weirdo changed his entire personality too. He's way more calm and stoic, not the cocky guy we saw back then.
SEOKDU WANG
Hang on, how did the fight go? If you're recovering in Gangbuk, does that mean you lost?
Taesoo Ma đđ»đ
Well what do you think?
taesoo rolls his eyes as the radio silence returns. until eventually:
JaegyeoNâ€ïž Na đ
đ€Łđ€Łđđ
Taesoo Ma đđ»đ
What is it now?
JaegyeoNâ€ïž Na đ
YOU GOT BEAT BY SOMEONE WHO TWERKS FOR TEENAGE GIRLS đ€Łđ€Łđđ
SEOKDU WANG
I just watched one of his performances...Taesoo...this is a new low
DAEHO TEMPLE đ§âžïž
Defeated by James even after forgoing his identity...this too, must be Buddha's will
Taesoo Ma đđ»đ
I hope you all choke. Unlike you, I can admit when I've lost fair and square, no matter my opponent.
JaegyeoNâ€ïž Na đ
I bet you're crying behind the screen right now
Jichang Kwak
Stop it everyone. Let's not kick a man when he's already down. Taesoo has suffered enough humiliation
Taesoo Ma đđ»đ
? I just said I wasn't feeling humiliated but thanks
JaegyeoNâ€ïž Na đ
I don't get it though, why would James change his whole persona? It can't just be because of the first generationâŠand he must've gotten help from someone to become DG
SEOKDU WANG
Wait, didn't he say 'join our group' when trying to recruit Seongji to that 4 major crews thing? Could it be them? Or one of them?
Jichang Kwak
I think you're bang on the money Seokdu. I have a hunch about why James went into hidingâŠand who helped him become Diego Kang.
JaegyeoNâ€ïž Na đ
Woah. I feel like we're in a detective movie đ We should rename this group to 'Incheon Investigations'
Taesoo Ma đđ»đ
I'm not changing it. And if anything, it should be called 'Ansan Investigations' because I'm the one who brought this up
Jichang Kwak
Stay on topic for 1 minute, I beg of you. Anyway, thanks for telling us Taesoo. I'm going to try discreetly look into thisâŠyou've been a big help for my investigations.
P.S. - It should be called 'Chungcheong Investigations' because I'm in the police force.
Taesoo Ma đđ»đ
đđ»đđ»đđ» I had a feeling this was tied into the case you're investigating. James should be brought to justice. You've had to give up so much because of bastards like him. I hope you succeed.
Jichang Kwak
:)
JaegyeoNâ€ïž Na đ
đ€ą Get a room. Anyhow, is there a point in keeping this group? Unless you wanna make the right decision and rename it to 'Incheon Investigations' ;)
Taesoo Ma đđ»đ
I will not. But there's no harm in keeping it, just in case anything noteworthy comes up.
SEOKDU WANG
...This better not be a regular thing
Taesoo Ma đđ»đ
Well I hated this conversation more than seeing that pink princess, so it won't!
DAEHO TEMPLE đ§âžïž
Taesoo, can I ask you one thing?
Taesoo Ma đđ»đ
What is it?
DAEHO TEMPLE đ§âžïž
Since you're friendly with DG, would you mind asking him for some concert tickets as a donation to our temple? đ
Taesoo Ma đđ»đ has left the group
A/N: jichang x taesoo is my fav rare pair â€ïž taesoo even said he'd investigate jichang's death at his funeral + he was the first king there bruh đ„șđ ohhh my shayla...
P.S. - if you liked this, check out the j high gc fic that anon was talking about!
the show? romance kaisen đč
the leading lady? you đ€
your beau? all the male cast đ
the otp? *cue crashing noises and endless bickering*
content: language, crude humor, crack fic, modern au, actor au, celebrity au, i made jjk a romance comedy, gojo x y/n and sukuna x y/n centered + slight nanami x reader, everyone is an adult, hints of reverse harem, JUST ABSOLUTE SHENANIGANS
end note:
this was partly inspired by whatever weird shit ariana grande and cynthia erivo had going on during the wicked movie marketing. also a big thank you to the delightfully unhinged r/AcheronMainsHSR for being the inspiration of the cursed text tweet. i made this for the love of the game (as per usual) and i have no plans to make part 2 anytime soon bc this took me almost a week to make have mercy on me twin đ
Series Title/AU: My Baby Brother is the Strongest Character
<<read the synopsis and content warnings first>>
featuring: James Lee/DG, Gitae Kim
Content/Trigger Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, sexual themes
Waking up at ten a.m., not worrying about work, breakfast by the pool minus other peopleâa part of you now understands why politicians resort to corruption.Â
âArenât you going to eat?â You pointed your knife at Diegoâs plate.Â
You two were served salad with a light vinaigrette dressing, a fluffy egg white omelette, and an assortment of tropical fruits.Â
While you inhaled everything, he had a sip of lemon water and nothing else.
âIâm full just watching you eat, noona.â He winked.
Your nose twitched with annoyance. âYou realize this is free, donât you?âÂ
âI need to watch my weight.â
âOh.â Right. Now you felt kinda guilty. But still. âI get it, I do, but it seems like a waste not to eat. At least have the salad.â
âIâll eat if noona spoonfeeds me.â
âGet real.â
âThereâs no way you donât remember.â
How could you forget? This world-renowned idolâsmiling innocently across from youâused to be a delinquent, one with too much time and an awful personality. James Lee was a frequent (and unwanted) visitor of yours. He showed up at your door during ungodly hours, covered in blood and bruises. Knowing what you knew from the source material and the fact that none of his injuries warranted a trip to the ER, you had a sneaking suspicion that he got hurt on purpose. However, you were too soft-hearted to turn away a kid in the middle of the night. He didnât need to say much. Gun was right. And so was Sammy, and so was Goo. You were a pushover. One sad look was enough to shatter your defenses.Â
âI still have all those adorable bandages you used on me. Theyâre safely stored in a sealed glass container in my closet.â
âYeah, sure you do.â You scoffed at his teasing. What kind of psychopath would keep all those dirty bandages?Â
âAnyway, here.â You sliced a mango into tiny cubes and placed it beside his plate. âThe mangoes are perfect. You donât have to eat everything but you gotta at least try these.â
âYouâre not gonna feed me?â
âI am feeding you.â
He pouted and grabbed your hand, wet with mango sap. He then looked directly into your eye and started sucking on your fingers.Â
You tried to pull away but like a venus flytrap, the moment you struggled, the tighter he held on. The veins throbbed visibly on his arm.
âYouââ
âYouâre right,â he said, dragging his tongue from your wrist to the wedge between your ring and middle fingers, âit tastes perfect, like it was made just for me.â
Jesus, this damn brat. Under the pink hair, white clothes and angelic features he was just another deviant.Â
You refused to admit that he had an effect on you. You were going to forget the feeling of thatâŠbig, soft, hot tongue pressed against your skin. Diego might have been a friend you didnât consent to having, but he was still your friend plus you knew him since he was a senior in high school. You had to cut whatever feelings he gave you before they blossomed. Life here was complicated enough as it is.
âNoona,â he whispered as he sucked on your ring finger. Those steely eyes pierced right through you. âI can feel your pulse.â
He smiled knowingly.
You gritted your teeth as your thighs squeezed together.Â
His teasing never worked on you before, so why now?Â
You thought about it and decided that it was because you were close to ovulating. Thatâs it.Â
As you agreed to this reasoning, the light above you dimmed. What happened to the sun?
You looked up andââAh.â
Gitae Kim stood behind Diego.Â
Of course.
âWhatâs the meaning of this, mi vida?â
You were too stunned to speak, both at his presence and the audacity.
Diego tilted his chin slightly to face the beast. He glanced over to you. The genius gremlins inside that skull of his worked overtime and his lips curled, like he just heard the punchline.Â
âYou must be mistaken. âMi vidaâ?,â he said, pressing a kiss to your ring finger, âthis woman is my bride.â
Maybe itâs from spending time with monsters like Gun and Goo, but you have developed the ability to react faster than the average person when it comes to stopping gratuitously flashy, potentially lawsuit-involving fights, so you jumped to your feet and put on your best customer service smile. âGâMister Gitae Kim, would you like to dine with us?â
Both men chorused a flat âWhatâ and next thing you knew, a new chair was brought in and staff members scattered like frightened ants after setting Gitaeâs place at the table.
Now that you wiped the mango sap and DGâs saliva from your hand, you could finally soak in Gitae Kim. The son of a bitch was covered in different shades of red lipstick, from his Adamâs apple to his bare shoulders. Some trailed below his ribs and into his unzipped jeans.
You rejected him, but it hurt your ego that he moved on that quickly. You admit it: youâre a vain hypocrite.
âLike what you see?â
âNo,â you said, grinning a little too tightly. âI was just in awe of how big your boobs are.â Major lie. Sammyâs boobs were way bigger.
That made Gitae laugh and you heard a disappointed harrumph beside you.Â
How Diego managed to move his seat right next to you without you noticing, you will never know.Â
âI didnât realize you like big chests, noona. Are mine not good enough for you?â
âShut up, I was joking.â Lies.Â
âMm, thatâs true. If itâs too big then itâs just grotesque.â
âWhatâs that supposed to mean, James Lee?â
âItâs Diego now, actually, and I donât mean to offend you. Iâm just saying, girls are good at acting like theyâre having fun when they get paid. We all know that at the end of the day, it all boils down to skill.â Diego turned to you. âRight, noona?â
Gitae sneered. âThey say that tiny, insecure guys do tend to overcompensate.â
âNoonaâs never had to worry about that. Sheâs seen every part of me and trust me, Iâm the perfect fit for her.â[1]
âReally? âCause she had a lot of fun with mine.â
DGâs smile tightened.
Gitae turned his chin up, looking smug.
The mango felt like rubber in your mouth.
You were going to get a stomachache eating with these idiots.
âŠYou missed Gun and Goo.
Gitae Kim has never been persistent when it came to women. He was a murderer, a thug, a thief, but he stopped all advances when a woman made it clear that she wasnât interested. For a man as vicious as him, even he had a line in the sand. Besides, with every no he got, there were five yeses just waiting for him.Â
You were the first woman who ever made him work for a yes.Â
His second-in-command broke his poker face when Gitae had asked him for advice. The daily visits, the ridiculous bouquets, the cheesy linesâthey were all suggestions from his men. He got frustrated when none of it worked on you.
Then he found you in that bar, alone, dressed in something else other than scrubs and wearing makeup that could tempt anything with a pulse. You were also drunk as hell.
He hadnât intended for things to go as far as they did. He preferred his bed partners lucid, but you clung onto him, pouting with lips begging to be kissed. Only a fool would turn you away.Â
Gitae Kim has been with plenty of women. Every girl was undeniably and objectively sexy, but you were the only one who left a mark on his mind.
An apparition that refused to leave him.
The faces you made, the way he witnessed your expressions change from utter disgust to raw vulnerability, as you laid your heart bare to him.Â
The cold, empty space on his bed when he realized that you left him.
Even as he held countless womenâevery single one gorgeous and willing to be his, whether out of carnal desire or a lust for power and wealthâmemories of you remained in the back of his mind.
No. Actually, not even in the back of his mind.
Your robe-wearing ghost stood there, sneering at him as a random girl bounced on his dick. Lying beside him was her friend, he was squeezing her breast as she massaged her own clit. They were office workers on their day off. He met them right after you told him to leave you alone.
If only you would leave him alone.
âIs that it?â You asked. âYou were way harder that night. I know you can get a lot bigger too. Are you worried this one canât take it?â
The girls moaned and âyouâ mockingly covered your giggling mouth. âYouâre awfully lazy today. Youâre usually more proactive. Do you remember? You almost carved me into the mattress.â
Youâre right. The older he got, the less effort he put into making things pleasurable for his partners. He usually laid back and let the ladies do the work.
But you brought out a hunger in him that night. He couldnât get enough of you, he pathetically plunged himself into you like an animal in heatâworse, like a virgin. He had to pay the hotel extra for the bed you two broke.
Suddenly, you were no longer standing beside him but sitting over him. Your robe was undone, your breasts and belly spilling out, begging to be squeezed.Â
You bent over him, close enough to kiss, and whispered, âLetâs come together, cariño.â [2]
The girl on top of Gitae yelped as his large hands clamped onto her hips. She moaned as he grew inside her, but he didnât hear her. Your sounds filled his mind completely.
The woman beside him bit her lip as she watched Gitae push her friend onto her back and folded her knees to her ears.
There was no need for jealousy though, because the curse was brokenâsomewhatâas your ghost possessed them both.
The girls screamed in unison as the bed faltered, two of the legs broke, but Gitae didnât notice.Â
For the first time in years, Gitae was satisfied.Â
The next morning, Gitae Kim didnât even bother showering as he stalked the halls, looking for you. He was still hungry and no other woman would do.
When he found you, you were with someone else. A man.
Worse, it was James fucking Lee.
***
âAnyway, what can I do for you, Mister Kim?â you asked the thug who had been staring at you like a piece of meat.
âJust call me Gitae, mi vida, and you still havenât given me your name.â
Your eyebrow twitched but you remained composed. âAll right.â Realizing that it would be more annoying to keep it a secret, you finally surrendered your name.
He smiledânot a smirk, not a lazy grin, not a psychotic almost-snarlâGitae Kim gave you a tiny, genuine smile that was so out of place with his rough features. It took you by surprise. ButâŠnot in a bad way.
âThank you,â he said.
âNow that thatâs out of the way, what exactly do you want from me?â
âThatâs because I want it custom-made to her preference. The girl I love deserves the best things. A walking toilet such as yourself wouldnât understand.â
As if the words went through one ear and out the other, Gitae grinned at you. âBesides, engaged doesnât mean married. Idols like him are a dime a dozen.â
You heard the sound of metal breaking and saw Diegoâs fork bent in half.Â
Breakfast continued like a fever dream. The two boys volleyed insults, making snide remarks about the size of the otherâs penis and sex life.Â
It was like you were back in collegeâno, high school. Ugh.
Your free meal now ruined, you folded your napkin and stood up.Â
âNoona?â
âMi vida?â
âIâm gonna goââ you decided mid-sentence not to tell them where you were going ââand be away from you guys. Bye.âÂ
You walked out of the pool area but of course, Diego had followed you.
âNoonaââ
âPlease, I wanna be alone, just an hour would be perfect.â Breakfast was awful but maybe sweating out your stress in the sauna can salvage the morning.
âI changed my mind.â
âAbout what? For the record, I only have enough money for an emergency cab home so donât tell me I have toââ
He pulled you by the waist, pressing your chests and bellies together.Â
âLetâs make it official now, noona.â
***
Gun flinched. His fingers hovered over the buttons of his navy blue shirtâa gift you lovingly chose for himâwhich he had taken off, folded and left in his car, where blood and rain wonât touch it while he took care of some bugs.
âWhatâs wrong?â Goo asked. He flicked his wrist, the blood on his umbrella splattered onto the men around him, eliciting a chorus of groans.
âNothing.â Gun buttoned up his shirt and gestured for Goo to get back in the car.
âHey, letâs stop by McDonaldâs, I wantââ
âNo time. Noonaâs going to check out in two hours. I promised to pick her up.âÂ
âIsnât the spa a thirty-minute ride from here?â
âYes.â
âI want my nuggets!â
âThen walk.â
Gun didnât want to risk traffic. Besides, the less amount of time you spend with that miscreant Diego Kang, the better. Gun was certain that the bad feeling he got just now was because of that.
It has to be.
He couldnât imagine a worse scenario than you alone with one persistent creep.
[1] Just a reminder that James Lee/Diego Kang is confirmed to be huge or at least significantly bigger than average.
[2] Cariño: Spanish. A term of endearment like "honey" or "darling."
