SYNOPSIS — Helping the quiet TA, who shrinks himself down to avoid taking too much space, come out of his shell. You’re slowly understanding why he thrives in an environment where he’s told what to do — and he shows you why he’s hesitant to be in charge.
TAGS — MDNI (18 + only) nsfw. work contains explicit sexual themes and content. piv. Gentle Giant!Choso, Dork!choso, overly freaked out!reader. Nerd!choso, SIZE KINK, sub to top(M), Switchy. rough. making out. couch sex. lifting. mutual masturbation. Changing positions. Missiònary. excessive use of sexual innuendos, dacryphilla, inconsistent writing (?). Choso will do anything you ask. PWP. Teasing, Degradation (both). pet names. crack.fluff. reader is nice to him obv. but freaked out.
WC: 14k — art by k4eny on twt
a/n: Hello blog, IM VERY HAPPY W THIS ONE and i promise to not leave u high and dry! this is highly inspired by an augustinthewinter audio (im a #freak) — Also what if I release my drabbles HEH
75%
The score read on your last mock test for your Historiography class. Your worst subject for the semester by far. Next week was going to be your midterm. Now, since your professor, Mr. Gojo, knows his students a little too well, he facilitated a surprise mock text to see how much you all understood the lessons.
A chorus of curses and groans start filling up the classroom with each student receiving their results as they’re handed out.
“…Now I can assure you, if you guys are worried about scoring higher than each other, it won’t matter because theoretically almost all of you failed.”
Another set of groans and a little bit of laughter comes from the class. You’re back to looking down on your paper, flipping through the pages to check every question and each correction out of habit, noting down what you have to improve on. Then you stumble upon the last page with the words;
Feel free to ask for help :) You smile, knowing exactly who wrote this without them being in the room. You look up to double check and you’re right, it was just your prof still going on about Khaldun or something — you tune him out to make way for the giddy feeling rushing through your stomach.
Usually you’d hate for people to offer help when you’re forced to do something you were unprepared for, taking the sentiment as a passive aggressive version of getting called incompetent but this time, you ponder while rereading the sweet little note in green ink— of course he used green ink to avoid students from being discouraged — and it's one of those times your stupidity has done you some good.
It’s an hour and a half later when class ends, people filing up to leave the doors of the lecture hall when a voice calls out to you.
You smile at your professor, a little strained, but it’s okay, you tell yourself, you expected it. You walk up to him, bag on your shoulder, unzipped because you rushed down. You’re still smiling when you’re there, already preparing for what he has to say.
The smile falls and you sigh, “I know that look.”
He’s standing with his arms crossed, dark shades balanced on his straight nose, looking down at you with nothing short of paternal disappointment. “Yes, and you shouldn’t be too familiar with it either. Seventy-five? really? I thought we were talking recommendation letters last week, turns out you’re barely passing my class?”
You swallow back, not really knowing what to do so you kinda just stand there awkwardly, waiting for him to air out his worries. “I know it's like, a little weird to put this much pressure on you but c’mon kid, you’re looking at being the next assistant after Choso to help your resumé right?”
You nod, still not saying anything, but you can’t deny how you perk up when you heard his name.
Your professor pauses briefly mid rant after spotting how you only met his eyes when he mentioned his current TA’s name, a light bulb flickers on in his head.
He squints, “You’ve been familiar with each other, correct?”
“Yes, sir.” You’re quick to reply, stopping yourself from physically gulping out of nervousness.
“He been showing you the ropes bit by bit?” he mutters, uncrossing his arms and leaning over the desk.
“Bit by bit, yes.” You echo, unable to reply without being scared of saying the wrong thing to tick him off.
“And…” He feigned thinking about it, fidgeting with he pen in his hand and tapping the butt end of it on a thick stack of paper. “…He’s also helping with lessons to keep your grades up?”
You say nothing, keeping your mouth flat and shut. You peer up at him, and shake your head slowly, “No sir.”
He tsks, standing up to his full height. “It’s not necessary but you’re aware there’s an average for you to keep up just to become a TA right? We wouldn’t want students biting off more than they could chew.”
You nod once more, though this time, a lot more fervently. “I—yes, sorry. I’ll-“
“Get to it, yeah.” He finished for you, tucking his hands in the pockets of his slacks. He waits for you to move, watching how you’re still standing there and waiting for him to also tell you to move. You’re so alike, he thinks.
He nods upwards, dismissing you. You thank him while you’re already turned your back, eagerly making your way to your next mission.
Gojo watches the door swing inwards from the impact of your departure, a smile in his tone when he mutters to no one, “That’ll give her some motivation.”
You’re rushing to your next class now, given the fifteen minute grace period you were granted had now been shaved down to ten, no thanks to your professor, forcing you to take two steps at a time when making your way to the other side of the building.
You’re looking down at your phone, deleting and retyping a message in your instagram dms. It’s when you pass the stairway that an unexpected force uncontrollably comes on to you. You thud against it, breath caught, hand tightly clutching at your phone. You stumble on your steps, holding onto the closest thing you feel for. You don’t fall, you don’t even come close to the ground, but your knees certainly felt like they couldn’t carry you.
Because here you stood against a very worried, very tightly holding you, Choso Kamo. Your mind blanks, your class just a few doors away, forgotten. Unintentionally, a small smile spreads on your face.
“Hey, I was—“ He laughs nervously, “I was looking for you.” His hands wrap around your nearly limp arms, almost covering the expanse of it, yet held at a respectable position.
“You okay?” He tilts his head down to meet your eyes, a look of concern etching back on his terribly handsome face, he swallows thickly and you watch his adam’s apple bob decorating his thick neck.
He takes a second to peer back at the stairs, then back to you before he realizes how his grip still clutched on you. “I’m sorry.” He pulls his hands down at his sides, unsure of what to do with them. “I was about to-“
“-Me too actually.” Cutting him off, you couldn’t help but smile even wider, uncaring if you looked too excited. You raised your phone, “Was about to send a dm but I got class in like,” You flip the screen to face you, “two minutes.” A pinch of apprehension makes its way to you but you push it back.
His eyes widen behind his rectangular frames, lenses making them appear bigger than they actually are.
“Really? Shit, “ He cursed, regretful, “I don’t have class anymore so I could just wait out—”
“Sit in with me?” It comes out of you before you could stop it. “—or not.” You quickly add, retreating. “I could just go and email you.”
“No—I mean, Of course. Yes. Me, I’ll go.” He smiled with a toothy grin, ignoring how you said email instead of your socials in hopes you won’t bring up how he stuttered over his words. You’re caught off guard and before you know it, he’s already making his way to the door without even being sure which class it was.
He’s reaching for the handle when you stop him, “Oh, next door, please.” He nods bashfully, adjusting the strap of his comically small backpack on himself and apologizes under his breath. He follows you inside, you push, prying the door open. His palm flat against the wood, effortlessly holding it for you both.
Luckily your professor hadn’t been in class yet, so you weren’t spotted as the only late comer (technically no, with company, you weren’t.) The class was sparsely filled as it was only part of your minor and this schedule wasn’t as popular, so you could basically sit anywhere. You scan over the room, and you spot some seats at the very front. You’re about to take a step forward when you realize you’re being a little rude.
“Where d’ya wanna sit?” You ask, head tilted up with a smile. You try to ignore the gleefulness that comes with the idea you’re gonna be seated next to him. Again, you push this feeling down, knowing it’s completely unprofessional and straight up childish. Though conversely, what you feel for him is not in the slightest, childish.
“Back, definitely.” He answers a little too fast, blinking to check with you. “If you want.” He adds.
He’s so polite, you could just die.
You find comfortable seating by the right side of the class, second to last row and close to the back per request. This classroom was a little smaller, so distance from the whiteboard wasn’t really an issue.
You’re listening to your elderly professor repeat instructions about a future assignment and knowing he’s just going to be posting the guidelines, you just tune him out again, distracted. You have to learn to stop doing that.
But you’re shamelessly peeking at the side, Choso’s writing something down, you watch his face as he continues without a care in the world, back hunched down to get closer to the papers maybe, tongue poking the inside of his cheek in focus. You look down at what he’s writing when he flips the sheet over, the sound of the paper is quiet amongst the loud hum of the air conditioner.
He’s checking something, a test again? You wonder if yours is there. Something catches your eye, he’s even writing down notes in the side for each correction. Maybe he’s also writing notes of encouragement for others. You don’t wanna wanna act all sensitive but something in your chest dampens. A lick of disappointment knowing you weren’t just given a little extra effort.
You shift in your seat, suddenly aware that you completely distracted yourself again and let your overactive imagination take over. You bite your cheek, brushing off the disappointment and sit properly on your seat. It moves the entire table though, you moved a little too roughly. Choso backs up in his chair, the commotion throwing off your professor in his fruitless discussion.
You gasp before immediately turning to check on your hard of hearing professor. He mumbles some incoherent complaint but you don’t wait to think and just apologize, “Sorry,” and it’s hopefully enough to divert the attention from you both.
Choso grunts, “No—sorry, my chair was too loud.” He pulls the long, shared desk back with one pull of his hand, before hunching to go back to work. There’s already a furrow in your brows at the apology, and you’re staring at the side of his face, his hand behind his full, overgrown hair, expression mirroring your own except towards his papers.
You adjust back, only this time you’re a bit farther, scared he’ll probably sense you’re being a little invasive. So you keep your eyes up at the projected screen and let the silence pass, the light sound of the ballpoint scratching paper on the smooth surface of the table and your teacher murmuring mix behind the stupid thoughts interfering and prodding at your composure.
You made this unnecessarily awkward, eyes looking back down on the paper without trying. You’re still kinda curious what he’s writing down. He’s writing down notes to the side, red pen and all— red pen and all?
You do a double take, your uncontrollable, imposing, borderline deluded thoughts returning back to their place in your hopeless brain. Did he use a red pen for everyone or green? He used green earlier, definitely. What the hell? Why does it matter?
“Can I help you?” The inner monologue in your head ceases at the question. You glance up at him, a crooked smile on his face, dimple gracing his features. He waits for you to say something, you process how it's a little close to a tease. You’re unable to say something and end up nodding.
He smiles, achingly sweet and sincere, still waiting for a response. You blank out, unable to think of a proper fake answer in time.
A last flick of your gaze at the paper outs your thoughts, he looks down at them. “If you’re looking for any of your own, this isn’t your section’s.” He assures, trying to fill in the silence you were so talented in bringing out in your conversations.
You giggle out of pure giddiness, unable to hold it in as you act like a school girl and not a college student. It’s probably so strange to him that you’re acting this way — internally reprimanding yourself is your only avenue for self control at these moments. You hope he doesn’t think the same way. “No um, you’re so focused on writing nice notes for everyone and marking every point.“
He smiles wider, eyes turning into pretty crescents. He shakes his head once, sitting back on his chair, and finally not slouching. Your stomach flips noting how he occupies more than half the seat. He scratches his neck, eyes flicking back at the papers for a moment before meeting yours, then averting again.
“I don’t think…” He leaned over to read the name on the paper, “…Inumaki, T. thinks my detailed corrections, or rather critiques are very nice, nor the rest of section Z26.” he mumbled the last part, adjusting the collar of his pull over.
“critiques?” You inquire, unconsciously leaning to his side of the desk, closer so you could read them too. Choso hopes you can’t feel the warmth on his cheeks radiating right now.
He nods his head a little too quickly, despite not being able to see him from where you were. He’s dizzy with the scent of your floral shampoo under his nose, heady and pulling. “Yes, just to help with,” he falters again, your bare arm brushing against his own, clothed one when you point at a certain part of the paper while reading, knees hitting under the table when you’re closely looking down on the sheet. “With the, the uh, future tests yeah-”
Choso watches your lips move but he doesn’t hear what comes out. Right now, he’s pushing away such un-utterable, uncalled for thoughts when his view is your head over what would be is his lap, only being separated by this rickety table. It only gets worse when you shift your eyes at him, wide and up at his tired onyx ones, only now his are a little wider too, something past friendly reflecting in your before averting back down the white sheet.
You’re still reading the paper, taking in the info for each question. “Oh,”
He snaps out of his daze, immediately taking notice of your blank tone. “What’s wrong?”
You’re processing the words on the essay type test he’s checking and you realize you’ve never seen this kind of test before. “Y’know, now that I’m reading this, I don’t think we’ve answered this activity yet.” A beat, and Choso flips the paper down.
“Right, that’s probably not good,“ He places a spread out hand over the papers, sheets mix on top of each other, disheveled and disorganized, one nearly falling off the narrow table.
You’re already laughing, “You’re so clumsy,” your hand stopping one of them from flying out of place.
“No, you probably shouldn’t look at that too-“
“Relax, I don’t have the photographic memory to copy each answer. As much as I wish I did.” You mumble the last part, tucking the papers into an organized pile, facing outwards. “See? No cheating for me.”
Choso fights the smirk that inches his way under the skin of his cheeks, nodding to you. “I appreciate your integrity.” You return the look on his face except with the stack in your grasp right now, it reflects its white canvas like a soft light on your skin, a sweet warmth overcomes him. “I never told you why I was looking for you.”
You place the sheets separate from his pile of unfinished work. Pursing your lips, you make a noise of acknowledgment. “Oh, I was thinking the same thing. I didn’t know how to approach you ‘cause it was kinda embarrassing.”
“Embarrassing how?”
For a while, you contemplate how to make yourself sound less pathetic, trying to amp up how to sound flirtier without breaching whatever boundary of the title you held to him. You wanted to play safe, for now.
“Like to ask for help, I bet it's as funny as someone asking a stupid question since you probably didn’t have to do any of that when you were in my year.” You don’t have to confirm with him whether or not it’s true, Choso’s going straight to a master’s after graduating this year. You’ve been hyping yourself up to ask him out for a while, knowing that he’ll most likely drift from you as a friend with the work that comes with finishing one.
You truly weren’t looking for any kind of college relationship or even a fling, knowing such places bring unnatural levels of attraction to people who lack self identity, and if you’re being honest, college made you question that part of yourself when you first began.
Ergo, you focused on yourself for your first year to second. Now, you’re in your third year’s second semester and people are thinking about their thesis and fellowships. And here you were only starting to make career moves for your future in your third year.
But you digress, circling back to how all that led you to meet Choso. Someone you’ve made acquaintances with last year during an exhibit at the school’s anthropology museum. Yes, you had an anthropology museum — Jjk technical college was not cheap.
His hair was a tad shorter back then, guiding a bunch of first years through the new exhibit, excitedly discussing some bones and energy. The glint in his eyes was bright and he was wholly unfiltered, charmingly gauche. You had tried to pose a question at the time, wanting to entertain him out of definitely just pure curiosity for Bioarcheology, but second guessed yourself and never approached him again.
Until, it was that same year you found out he had been the TA for the professor you were aiming for next year (as a second year college student), and you found out he was resigning as the teacher’s assistant from a friend of a friend, and how Gojo had been already looking for a new one early on because Choso was that competent.
You want to say that maybe you joined just because professor Gojo was someone you highly look up to in the field of history research and will grant you a killer recommendation for a future career — which you know he will— there’s an underlying feeling where you also can’t deny that the idea of how it brings you closer to Choso made the position all the more appealing.
So this year, when Gojo read your CV and decided to accept you out of the many (3 applicants, one was an irregular student, the other a nepo baby), and encouraged Choso to start training you by now, it was like fate realigned itself to bring you closer to him.
Sort of.
Now he was in front of you- beside you, and casually replying with, “ I don’t mind spending my free time with you—tutoring and stuff.” He offers, completely unaware how he gets your stomachs in knots and your heart feels like it's trying to rip out of your ribcage.
“Really?” You ask too eagerly, he nods for extra reassurance. “It’s just, Historiography just isn’t something I’m good at but I’m also I find it interesting but it’s also really hard but— I also want this.” You size him up, towards his side of the table. “Y’know, this.”
He‘s about to point at himself, before looking at the papers and something clicks in place. “Checking papers on top of your thesis, dropping them off at Gojo’s office at 8 am, and getting death stares when I come across his students?”
You nod, almost even more eager, “Absolutely.”
“You’re perfect then.” He says, no hesitation whatsoever. You were eating it up and he was completely unaware. You giggle, heat rushing to your face.
You almost forgot how talking came easy with Choso. It was refreshing to meet someone you could hold a conversation with without feeling like you had to perform all the time, or wonder what to amp up or tone down. He had his intimidating moments at first, like being overqualified for a TA and the unmistakable height, or when you’re overthinking how to impress him and you don’t truly act yourself — but those impressions crumble effortlessly when you recognize him for his sincerity and obsession with the academe.
Choso can’t help but let a chuckle bubble in his throat, smooth and rich like a creamy cup of strong coffee. He’s analyzing your face, the apples of your cheeks are out with how wide you smile, he made you smile like that. The fact sits comfortably in his chest. He’s staring at your lips, maybe he can get away with it as him just looking down to your height, the few times he feels his own acted as an advantage for him.
“…any reason you use green?… Choso?” He blinks, and he’s back in the classroom and you’re now holding your own head with your palm, waiting for him to answer.
The back of his neck is hot with the thought you could probably notice him zoning out. “I like,” he searches your eyes, hesitating, and then, “I like green, so.” He nods, trying to rationalize his plain answer to himself.
You’re squinting, “Cool,” nothing behind your tone, just the air that still manages to sit awkwardly between you two, suddenly the old scribbles in the storage part of the desk was so interesting—
“And it's good for not like…” He swallows back his nerves, heart pounding in his ears. “I didn’t wanna discourage students.”
The admittance runs like oil down your back and you feel like you’ve hit him dead center in what you wanted to hear. “Right,” You look around, a false pretense of thinking in your expression, “So… why the red?” You ask curiously, pen in your hand scratching off the old paint under the desk in anticipation.
He paused like a deer caught in headlights, licking the dryness of his lips. Staring down the sheet of paper, yes it’s red indeed, he thinks. His lips part, you watch the smooth, glossy sheen of it move against the light. “I guess I have a favorite class.” He coughs, feigning the ease he was currently lacking with each word he carefully chose to speak.
Despite the urge to egg him on, you leave it at that, your bravery for the day already expended. You know if you continued you might say something a little irrational, and you’re also afraid to jump his bones too quickly. Though you’re pretty sure he could still hold you up if you tried.
Class ends anti-climactically, your professor waving your class off with a less than interested parting. You’re out of the classroom, Choso following behind when, “So, when do you wanna start? I’m free after class tomorrow and it’s the weekend. I don’t mind staying longer.”
You’re following his pace as you walk through the hallways of your building, aiming for the exit but you’re thinking about what happens after. You’re not fully sure where you’ll end up once you part. Do you just go? He stayed with you the entire boring class, (obviously the only reason why you want to stay longer and none other in particular) surely there must be something you have to do in return.
You’re nearing the exit and you can’t help but feel like you’re letting something slip if you go past the doors without making your thoughts known, “I have this thing with my best friend tomorrow, this is not a very good look for me— I promised I’d do this qualitative interview and—“
He’s quick to reply, “Oh yeah, I totally understand—“
Shit, okay you were not seizing the moment correctly. “You should come with me.” You turn over to him, unable to stop yourself.
Choso all but freezes, “What?”
Okay, no going back now, smacking your lips together before going for the kill. “—With me. Yeah, we could hang out and,” Could you still back out? No.
“Just, maybe study after? like we could study like… for the,” So much for not wanting to jump his bones, “…whole night.” You can’t look at him any longer, eyes scanning back the outside that now surrounds you. The noises of campus and the lamp posts are bright, projecting a warm white over you. But all this is not enough to comfort you from the trepidation finally shaking your brain.
You watch as Choso’s pale cheeks start to tinge into a flushy pink, eyebrows raising behind his glasses.
“Oh, okay, yes. Okay!” He nods taughtly, though willing.
You pause, “Okay?” trying to check if he’s serious.
“Sure.” You’re both standing opposite his body, shocked with what you’re hearing from the other as much as you were shocked from the words leaving yourselves.
A beat passes, leaves rustle, and amidst that you’re silently hoping it won't matter how you didn’t think this through fully. “Five o’clock sound good?”
***
It was a steady, calm-ish afternoon, your best friend Miwa was sat in front of you, laptops laid out on the table. She’s writing down notes and closing up her recording software and you’ve been fixing up your hair, clothes, and picking lint off it. You find a loose thread on your shirt when, “Hey,” You look up, alert. Miwa’s squinting at you, blue hair cast in a warm yellow from the mid-afternoon sun. “You good?”
You’re finger quits picking at yourself, “What? Yeah,” eyes flitting back to the pesky string sticking out of the hem of your top.
There’s a hum coming from in front of you, “You sure? You’ve been so fidgety this entire time.”
“I am not fidgety.” You say, fidgeting. A sigh comes out of you, and you lean back on your chair, hands coming on top of the arm rests. “You really okay with me bringing Choso?”
At this, Miwa’s lips curl into a smirk. “I knew it.”
Your eyes flick over to the side in thought, then back at her sly expression. “What do you know?”
She’s sitting up from her hunched posture over her laptop, and drinking from her cup of her almost lukewarm coffee, shrugging with her eyes still locked on yours.
Your thumbs come up from the arm rests, “What is it?”
She clears her throat, placing the mug on a coaster. She looks back up, a smirk still planted on her face. “Just that I didn’t know that he was your crush,” she expects you to reply, but you’re still waiting for her to elaborate. “Y’know, Choso.”
“I don’t have a crush on him!”
She squints, “Okay so we’re lying today.”
“It’s merely admiration— and some attraction at most.”
“That’s literally what a crush is based on.”
You’re blinking at her, feeling caught. You bite your tongue, knowing that your best friend out of anyone should be able to catch you in a lie. Or even a truth you lie to yourself about. You speak up, “Well?”
“Y’know I love you.” She starts.
“Oh no.” Dread seeps into your stomach, and you know if she starts somewhere along the lines of sugar coating, the following was about to be some bland truth coated around maybe an even bitter core inside.
“I like Choso! He’s been your friend for a while and I’ve never talked to him but he sounds really devoted to his work, maybe goodlooking, he’s smart, and he’s nice—“
“What would Muta think…?”
She chuckles, softening at the thought of her own boyfriend. “No, I just wanted to keep an eye out for you too when I say this.” She pauses, trying to find a way to word this as pleasantly as possible. “Cause you know how girls talk…”
You latch onto that last part, stomach churning in suspense. “Not really, I don’t.”
She stops herself from cackling at your nervous expression, “I just heard he’s always…nice.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Like too nice? I guess…it’s really hard to explain babe,“ She cuts herself off, sensing your growing apprehension. She observed how your hands are rubbing on the expanse of your cup, and bringing it to your lips to avoid saying something. She quiets down her tone, now kinda shy about mentioning it. She leans a bit towards you, “Like… in bed, y’know?”
You sputter in your mug, feeling unwelcome liquid scratch your throat. Miwa’s eyes widen when she watches you cough, eyes turning watery. “Ooh gag reflex, that’s not coming in handy.“
“Fucking shut up-“ You’re coughing still and she’s laughing uncontrollably now. “—I did not expect that.”
She’s wiping the corner of her corneas with a finger, “I—I’m sorry I just had to bring it up.”
You’re more composed now, eyes looking up at the clock, it’s ten minutes to five, and you’re trying to relax.
You don’t exchange looks with Miwa until a short moment passes for you to think.
“So have you thought about what it would be like?” You’re back to meeting her eyes, a silent exchange between you both. Miwa smiles at you, lowering her voice and putting a finger up to her ear like an agent, “Then I’m glad to relay information.” She’s giggling when you throw a tissue at her.
You’re already standing out of your seat and making your way to sit beside her. She motions her hand for you to come nearer, both turning your heads when the door chime rings and someone enters, calming down when it’s just some delivery person. You relax, side eyeing her.
Miwa inches closer, “Okay so I’m friends with this senior from my org and she had a friend who was seeing Choso, sort of? Anyways I mentioned once that you were replacing him and that you’re a little into him, sorry.” You’re beckoning her to continue, not caring much for the last part and nodding along.
“Anyways, it was like a one night stand thing and — don’t get me wrong I’m not trying to spread rumors or judge,” Another pause, and you’re already on the edge of your seat.
“Well? Go on,” You pull her in, arms tangled and clutching her, knee jittering.
“I heard he was kinda scared in bed? Like maybe he has a phobia or something.” Your knee stops, and you’re now confused, “It’s just kinda odd ‘cause the guys like a unit, right?” a crease forms between your brows. “Maybe he’s like… a power bottom?” she whispered, tone serious.
You’re nodding, taking in the information with actual consideration. “Possibly,” You’re fully facing her now, “Y’know…he is a TA.”
It’s Miwa’s turn to be confused, struggling to find the correlation. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
You fight the expression trying to pull on your lips, you nibble on the skin then let go, “I’d say he’s good at being told what to do.”
Miwa’s eyes widened, before adding, “Tell me when you find out.” A second where you’re both quiet and then you’re being shook by the shoulders, both of you squealing and chortling in your corner. It would be no surprise if you’ve caught the attention of other customers with your commotion.
She quits with the shaking, now smoothing over the fabric over your shoulders for messing up your top. “So what are you gonna do about it?”
You can’t help but entertain your imagination, “I mean I think I’m too conscious to be playing around too much.” Your friend nods along, supportive. Past these exciting thoughts, it was all a front for the feelings you struggled to word out, “I really like him, Miwa.”
She parts her lips but as if on cue, another chime from the door rings once more. He stood by the entrance for a brief moment, barely scanning the vicinity when he locked eyes on you, a cheeky grin lighting up his face.
***
“—I think they never made any real contact.”
“No, that’s definitely up for debate.”
Miwa watches your back and forth, pen in hand. Choso decided to be part of her research sample as well, given that he’s already here, he should make use of his time. And he didn’t mind, he liked helping out.
If only he could actually speak and answer the questions without you guys debating every time one of you made an opinion on something vaguely related to Miwa’s research topic. At first it was good, your opinions can be added too but now she’s running out of space in her storage with how long this unintentional joint interview was going.
“Okay guys, the interview questions are about historical revisionism. While I do see the correlation, how did we end up in Egypt and…?”
“Ancient Mesopotamia.” Both of you say, completing her sentence.
“I can elaborate.” Choso suggests, clearly unable to read between the lines of Miwa’s inquiry.
She stretches in her seat, her legs feeling cramped up with the lack of movement all this time. “Y’know what, I’ll hold you two to that. But first, let’s take a break!” It’s not even a minute until she’s out of both your and Choso’s sights, on the way to the restroom, pen and recorder left on the table.
“Y’know, I don’t think she likes me that much. I also think she’s too nice to tell me that.” You’re in the middle of cracking your neck until you’re moving your attention to him.
“Don’t worry too much about it, I think she just isn’t up for hearing any more strong opinions on exported textiles.”
“That’s if they were truly exported—“ You shove his arm, and he’s laughing at your face, not even moved from the push. He’s pretending to rubbing his bicep in feigned hurt, lifting his arm in the process, almost flexing. You try to ignore how they felt so hard under your fingertips. You check him out unintentionally, taking notice of how the hem of his layered shirt hangs enough to show the lower part of his stomach. Out of respect, you look the other way.
You swallow thickly, ears hot. “I think I’ll get another snack. Want anything to eat?” You’re already standing up and off the chair, limbs wobbly from the long period of time you spent sitting on the deep arm chair.
There’s a sudden burst of noise coming from the entrance of the café, very loud and boisterous. You can’t help but let your jittery self get distracted, there stood an entire group of men, looking like they just got off practice. You’re wondering why one of them looks vaguely familiar, but there’s a body blocking your view out of nowhere with what you realize is Choso’s chest.
There’s an odd, slightly frantic look in his eyes you haven’t seen on someone as easygoing as him. “Um, how about I go with you?”
You’re looking up at him, a little skeptical on why the sudden change of tone, but agree anyways.
You’re in the short line along the display and point out pastries that you could try when a voice calls out to the person beside you. “Cho!”
It’s easier for you to check where it’s coming from as Choso was in front of said voice. You recognize the pink hair from the group coming in earlier. He’s about 2 inches away from being as tall as Choso, hair damp like he just came from a shower, and a sports bag was strapped across him.
A pat on his shoulder signals your dark haired companion to turn, seeing a sight he’d been trying to avoid earlier. Of course he had to be the one ordering for his group.
“Hey man,” Choso greets, strained, a guard visibly coming up around him.
“What’s up, you don’t say hi to family anymore?” The sentiment, although on paper sounded sweet, in reality was like a taunt. Something you don’t wanna dissect to avoid reading into it too much. “Who’s this?”
You peer over at both of them, their attention now on you. Still unable to read the room, you focus on Choso to see how he wants this to play out. He steps in for you, “You know her, I mentioned the TA thing like a while back. She’s a friend, though she is replacing me.”
He gestures to the pinkette’s side, introducing him.
“My brother by the way. Same year though.”
Sukuna nods at that and smiles, canines showing. He reaches out with his hand, and you meet it halfway. “Ryomen Sukuna.” Huh, he’s not a Kamo.
“Pleasure,” You’re squinting your eyes, there’s something a little unsettling about him that you can’t place, but you’re not trying to jump into that.
“I didn’t know Choso had any siblings — ones on campus, no less.”
You let go of his large, callous hands, moving an inch closer to the cashier when the customer before you has their turn to order. “Have 2 terms to catch up with and I don’t really see this one around either ‘cause I did training camp in Barcelona last semester.”
You nod in acknowledgement. Silently, you’re comparing them, unknowingly looking back and forth between him and Choso a little too obviously.
“We don’t look related do we?”
Before you could defend yourself, a dry chuckle beats you to it. “We get that a lot.” He squeezed where his hand was planted on Choso, who visibly tenses. “Different mom, same dad. He doesn’t take after him though, if you’re worried—“
“Alright, I don’t think she wants to know about that.”
“Speak for yourself,” You laugh nervously, trying to ease the tension you could feel multiplying tenfold. He pats Choso’s shoulder before bringing his hand down to the side, not before looking at the side of his brother's face as he semi-whispered, “At least one of you doesn't have their panties in a twist.”
“I would if I were wearing mine.” A very long, awkward silence overcomes all three of you. That is until a nearly genuine smile breaks out of Sukuna’s angular features.
“Ha, what the fuck,” He mutters in amusement, “You’re both weird, that’s cute.” A dry chuckle eases the anxiousness you were struggling to place the source of. Though at the cost of your own dignity.
The line to the cashier moves, it’s yours and Choso’s turn now. He’s first to leave his brother’s side, not even bidding him a glance as he moves past you. “Nice meeting you,” you voice out, still on edge, Sukuna just nods in acknowledgement.
***
It’s around 6:40pm when Choso walks you to your apartment outside of campus. There’s a slight tension in the air that you’re struggling to bring up, it’s been there for the remainder of your meet up, not having said a word since you’ve left the café. You’ve been trying to make a move and talk to him but he’s had his eyes on the ground this entire time, rarely up, and definitely never on you.
He was about to walk in the pedestrian lane when you tug on his backpack. He’s caught in the pull, looking up to the red walking signal reflecting on the road. He walks back to stand next to you, still not saying a word. “What’re you thinking so hard on?”
For a moment he turned his head to you, a little too quick to not look like he wasn’t anticipating you to bring it up yourself. He looks ahead once more when you’re walking now. “I’m sorry about earlier.”
You start to feel a little guilty for not clarifying sooner, wondering if this entire time he thought he should’ve apologized for something he couldn’t control.
“It’s alright, it wasn’t unpleasant for me.”
He almost laughs at that, “Right, and I was jumping for joy.”
The air shifts, it’s not so tense anymore, just between that and uncertainty directed at something else entirely. “I felt really dumb earlier.” He adds, looking back down on the pavement. “I couldn’t say anything to make him leave us alone.”
You’re a few blocks nearby to your place, walking a little ahead of him so he could follow you now.
“Again, it wasn’t that bad. You don’t have to apologize.” Once more, silence fills the space between you both and it feels like you’re unable to remove this weight you feel affecting your interaction.
Now you’re both looking at your feet as you wait for cars to pass the street you’re crossing and for the timer to finally get to zero. Your foot is stepping over a dry leaf to fill in the lack of communication, the sound crunching in the quiet in a loud, distant manner.
“I just kinda get made fun of for acting like this—weak.” You crane your neck up to meet his eyes, and you’re right to think he’s still looking down. “It’s just annoying how even until now it’s expected of me to bite back on others ‘cause I look like I should.”
There’s a furrow in his brows, and he’s tightly clutching on the strap of his bag. “Like I’ve accepted that, sort of. I’m already conscious of it— but maybe people like to pick on me when it's obvious I’m not gonna do anything.”
You’re making another turn together, he’s leading with the path he’s familiar with and you follow, his words don’t falter. “Maybe ‘cause it makes them feel less small or some shit — I don’t know.”
After processing the words that left him, it brought you back to your conversation with Miwa. How you laughed about his past history with women and how you basically gossiped about his insecurities. Guilt swirls in your stomach, realizing this might just be a little worse than you treated it to be. You keep quiet, deep in your own thoughts, letting him say what he needs to.
“And of course my own brother is like that too.” He rants, tracing back to the behavior he displayed earlier. “He’s my brother and I love him, yes. But frat guys could be such dicks, y’know? I was like his first practice hazing dummy lite…in a way.”
You nod, acknowledging him. “Right, right.” You’re turning to the street ahead of yours, just about a block away now.
“It’s hard to not let those insecurities take over.” He groans, “I spent so much of my life trying to make my best first impressions, and I feel like it backfires on me with the wrong people—I hate that.” He’s scratching the back of his head. “Sometimes I just wish I looked normal. That way I wouldn’t literally feel like the elephant in the room.”
At that, you turn almost as if you’d heard the worst take in your life, brows scrunching. “Normal?”
He shakes his head, “Yes, normal. Like I can wear normal shoes and sit on couches normally.”
“I like that you’re not.” You say, insensitively. “I mean you’re not not normal. But I like…it.” You slow down, trying to backtrack on what you just let slip.
He’s blinking down on you, a look of surprise etched on his slowly flushing face. “…Why?”
Your breath is caught in your throat, not knowing how else to explain it. No going back. Remember?
“I feel safe, even if you don’t…bite back. And on top of that you’re kind. I think that matters a lot.”
Choso stares at you like you just grew a tree on your head, but in truth, he’s just trying to tone down his elation. “Really?” He asks dumbly, already cursing himself in his head for looking like he wants to hear you call him that again. Safe.
You dip your head, agreeing once more. “I’m a girl so I may be a little biased but if I were also a little taller, I wouldn’t have to deal with some idiot guys trying something on me, and I could also defend myself easier.”
“Oh yeah—Yes, that's totally different from my problems.” He clarified, trying to catch himself from sounding ungrateful. You watch the way his expressions shifts from blank to stressed and bite back a smile. “There’s obviously people with worse problems than being bigger than a doorway.” He’s looking down and pushing his glasses up, almost ashamed.
You turn to the road leading up to your street, your apartment just at the end of it. “Is that like 6’3 or…”
“Huh?” He meets your inquisitive eyes, “Uh, just a little more.” He replied, shying away from your stare. You’re thinking about all the objects that could possibly match up to Choso’s figure.
“Those chillers they got in 7’11?”
“Hm, nope. Like 2 inches more, maybe.”
Your stomach does a flip you had to ignore, “You’re lying. Six foot six?”
“Without shoes, yes.” He nodded, met with you side-eyeing him. “Well you’re free to go with me to my annual checkups and see.” He defends, a smile finally appearing on his face at your skepticism.
You squint, stopping yourself from looking too excited with the many, unbecoming thoughts storming your brain. “I’ll hold onto that.”
Shortly after, you find yourself standing in front of the building to your apartment. “I’m sorry about dumping all that on you, It was a lot.” He looks around before letting out a barely there sigh, “I’ll get going now—“
“Are you forgetting?” You look back and Choso’s standing stiffly, feet planted on the ground. “We’re…studying, remember?”
Choso’s throat bobs at your sly tone, convincing himself there is nothing behind it. “You did a lot today I just thought we were tired—“
“We don’t have to study then.” You’re looking around and thinking to yourself before landing back on his face, “I mean you came all the way here, you could come up and have some tea?”
The notion has his chest puffing out to regulate the way his heart started beating like its pounding from behind his sternum. He doesn’t say anything, his eyebrows raise behind his glasses, his usually sleepy eyes now wide. He nodded and let out a strained, “Okay.”
***
The door to your apartment swings open with a loud creak. The lights switch on, a warm white cascades from the ceilings.
Your keys make a clinking noise against the ceramic jewelry tray you leave on the dresser by the entrance. The door is wide open, you feel Choso trailing behind a couple steps away.
He’s standing kinda stiffly, “Do I take my shoes off or—“
You’re shaking your head, stepping aside to let him in. “My neighbors are kinda sticklers for people who leave their shoes outside in the halls.” He walks past the doorway, head craned down. It’s supposed to look like he was trying to avoid getting hit by the frame of it, though he’s only finding a way to hide his face naturally.
He picked his head up when he heard clanking from the kitchen which meant that you were inside. “I hope you’re not allergic to pollen? I like to put honey in mine.” You ask, your voice still clear as the space isn’t big at all, but in his head it’s distant. He’s trying to calm himself down, taking in your apartment.
It’s small, kitchen tight and you’ve no space for a table. You use the counter as one, your bed, desk, and sofa all in the same space. However, the lack of furniture made it wide, the “living room” taking the least space with just a little coffee table and the tv on the floor as the only decor.
“You didn’t say anything so I didn’t add any honey.” He finds himself turning on his feet when he’s met by your figure, coming from the kitchen with two— red and yellow —mugs. You hand him the yellow one, he takes it with a ‘thanks’. You make a move to sit on the couch, trying to get cozy. Choso’s still standing, sipping on his cup awkwardly.
“You can sit if you want.” Choso’s eyes flick over to you. You realize he had shed his bag on the entrance, still it looks like something is weighing on him.
“I’m okay, I might launch you out of it—“
“Sit with me.” You pat the spot beside you on the couch, your fawn-like eyes up at him.
It turns his legs into jelly. Thoroughly convinced, he sits beside you, trying to be as careful as he can so the side of the couch doesn’t sink to his weight too much.
He winced at the audible sound of the springs under the cushions, “Sorry.”
Quietly, you assess him. How stiffly he sat, how much of the seat he took up despite keeping himself at the edge of it. If he sat back, would his knee brush against yours? Though you feel a little bad for taking advantage of his reactiveness towards you. However, something deep inside you is undeniably excited with the thought.
On the other hand, Choso feels like he’s watching himself act in third person, deliberating what part of his body he should move next to not look too obnoxious or stiff. He doesn’t know if he should just let the silence pass till he runs out of tea, or maybe till it turns lukewarm. You shift in your seat, he feels your gaze heavy on him. You don’t say anything, you just stare at the side of his face. His throat bobs.
He looks over to you for a split second and meets your eyes, you raise your brows at him, a smirk growing on your sweet face.
An anxious laugh bubbles from his throat, the tips of his ears tinging red. “I think you’re aware of how you’re making me nervous.”
You couldn’t stop the way the smirk spreads into a wide smile. “I was thinking of how to get you to talk, is all.” You tilt your head to the side, checking out how the light from your room lamp makes his jaw seem sharper. His hair nearly fell on his shoulders, built and perched with his elbows on his knees, posture a little hunched, but he still sat taller than you. Nothing short of tempting in your eyes.
He follows your gaze, “What?”
“You’re also thinking of something.”
His brows pinch, he hates how good you are at prodding at him when he clearly doesn’t know what to say. “I’m always thinking.”
You nod, “And still, you haven’t said anything since we went up.”
Choso pauses his already stiff self. You place your mug down, crossing your legs on the couch. He brings his attention back to you but you’re already intently looking at him. He flinches back.
Sighing, “What do you think I’m thinking about?” You purse your lips, shrugging at his question. He shakes his head, a smile fighting its way on his face.
“Then I’m happy you only brought me here to drink some tea.” A roll of his eyes comes out of sarcasm, reaching for his own mug on the table, stretching his arm out.
He’s about to pull his hand back when your smaller one lands on top of his. The contact would have made him drop the glass into little pieces if it weren’t for the coffee table underneath. He lets down the cup, missing the coaster you laid out.
“That’s my mug….” You point at the red cup in his grasp, yours. You let the words linger like the pads of your fingers on the back of his hand, “Hm, you’re really warm.”
He blinks, unable to ground himself back to reality because maybe, maybe you’re trying to make a move on him. He’s unable to look into your eyes,
“Uh,” He falters, the warmth on his cheeks multiply and spread out when you inch closer, the warmth of your own body makes him feel like he’s overheating.
“How else could I get you to go up with me?” You say, goading another reaction out of him.
“I-I mean you could just ask and…I wouldn’t say no,“ You’re closer to his face now—too close. But you’re still not looking at eye level — not close enough.
“I think I’ve done a lot just to be around you, Cho.” He almost melts at how the stupid nickname his brother calls him sounded so good coming from your honeyed lips. Choso gulps, audible and embarrassing in the silence of your apartment.
He started off this conversation on the edge of the couch, somehow it feels like you’ve backed him into it.
“Y’know, the TA stuff, asking to study—do we look like we’re studying now?” Your arm skates over his hand, up his arm, the touch leaving goosebumps in their wake.
You watch how his jaw all but clenches at the feeling, a newfound confidence makes you unbelievably giddy, driving you to push more. “But what I wanna know is,”
He feels like he’s running out of breath before he could utter a word when your palm lands up on his hard chest, feeling for the erratic thumping of his heartbeat underneath the fabric of his shirt.
Your head is craned up, lashes bat at him, “What are you willing to do…?”
He’s looking deeply into your eyes, searching for the answer to your question, not realizing how his neck is craning down at your height in return. Several beats pass — he feels a tug on his shirt and then he’s closing the distance between your lips.
He whines on the soft, wet skin, sucking gently, eyes falling shut. His hand finds your cheek, the other reaching for your side when you tangle your arms around his neck. The pace is hungry yet fervent, tugging and melting against the other. You pull away slowly, lips parting from each other wetly. You’re smacking your own lips before smiling up at Choso, giggling.
His eyes are hazy, glasses crooked out of place. His hands are covering your back and smoothing over your clothes, “I can do anything— whatever you want.”
If you weren’t already grinning wide enough, now you’re fully Cheshire-like. Pushing yourself closer towards him, “Anything?” He nods eagerly, you’re pulling him in, hungry.
His hand is on the back of your neck now, holding. There’s something about his touch that feels like it’s keeping you together without feeling too possessive. Caring with a dash of hesitance. One you’re looking to break through tonight.
Your lips travel down his neck, leaving hot, lingering kisses along his throat. “Oh, mmh-“ He bites his lip immediately after nearly letting out the low noise from chest, eyes shutting when you find the particularly sensitive spot on his neck. You feel his fingers dig rougher on your hips, you’re on your knees now, determined to cover every inch of him in your touch. Your weight falls on him when he tugs you, the hands planted on his shoulders squeeze out of instinct.
“You good? I-I didn’t mean to, ah—“ He tried to move his head away from your persistent lips, but a shiver that runs through him stops his actions. You’re sucking on his skin, humming proudly, undettered from your little slip. His hands brush down your sides, they plant themselves lower on your waist.
You plant kisses all the way back to his chin then meet his lips again. You’re eye level, a sinister glint in your eyes. You stick your tongue out, half lidded gaze and staring right at him — brushing the wet, pink muscle along Choso’s bottom lip, teasing. Heat rushes on his face, blood rushes on his crotch. You’re killing him.
You suck on the pink flesh, tugging then letting go, he’s pulling you in closer by the back of your neck. He wants you on him, mind unable to decide how — just everywhere is fine. You drop your palm down between your bodies and on the garter of Choso’s sweats, feeling for the hardness underneath.
He hissed as your fingers brushed what would be his shaft, “Um, sorry, can we make out a little I think…” He holds your head closer to his face, breaths mingling as you catch them. “I’ll get less hard— nervous, I think. Sorry,” You hummed in agreement before landing back on the flushed skin of his mouth, quieting him down with your lips.
You giggle against him, chasing as he squirms, palms settling on his shoulders. You pull off him with a peck, feet planting back on the carpeted floors. Choso now sat far into the couch, slacked with legs spread. His mouth parts as you start undressing, stripping off into your underwear.
He sizes you up and down, taking in your soft, bare skin, your strapless bra and cotton panties under the warm lights of your apartment. It elicits a heavy throb under his pants. Choso’s breathing feels uneven and the air grows thinner when you settle back on the couch, only now between his spread out legs.
You’re steadying yourself, his hands find a place on your warm, now bare skin. You smooth over the wide expanse of his chest, then land on his neck, even warmer than you. “This okay?” You ask, to which he only replies with a nod.
You’re about to lean into him when he reaches for his glasses, but you stop him before he tries to pry the piece of metal off. “They stay on.”
His breath catches in his throat, stomach dipping. A part of him he’s not quite sure whether he wanted to acknowledge, liked when you tell him what to do.
He lets his hand fall, you adjust the rims on the bridge of his nose. “You’re so pretty.” You’re holding his face with both hands, tilting it upwards to you. A lopsided grin appears on his face at the comment, eyes shying away and down from your face and to the body on him.
“Thanks- Thank you,” He replied poorly. His palm skated from your waist and to your back, laying above the clip of your bra. His lips are caught between his teeth as he takes in the feel of your skin against him, he looks up. “You’re awfully pretty as well.”
He was never good at expressing himself,only with what he was sure of. But this was new, you pushing, him taking, it was all new. But he meant every word he said to you. He leaned in to catch your lips against his. Fuck, if only you could tell how much he meant it.
He’s slotting his tongue in between your parted mouth, leaning further in and you’re falling back, but he’s catching you — keeping you to him. You work together smoothly, as smooth as silks rubbing against each other. You clutch on to him tightly as if he’ll slip if you don’t. You taste like jasmine tea and he’s wondering if the sweet taste is from the honey or just you. He’s holding you by the neck and pushing your back into him.
You finally move to settle on his lap, the kiss unwavering so you’re first to pull away, “Choso—“ He catches the sound of his name in your mouth, chasing, taking, and taking. There isn’t any place on your body that isn’t covered by him, your arms, your back, your legs in between his that caged you. You moan at the thought against his greedy tongue, entirely consumed. But you’re impatient and already wet, the fabric of your panties has been riding up for the last 10 minutes. So you squeeze his arms weakly, but it’s enough for him to let air flow between you.
“Shit, Sorry—” He’s frantic and searching your eyes, but he’s met with your hazed out ones and your swollen, drooly lips. He wiped the corner of it, chest heaving. “I need to— you’re driving me insane,” He chuckles, deep and uncertain with how true the fact felt. He’s brushing your hair back gently, “I’m sorry,” he lets go of you as you’re pulling away.
You’re upright now, letting your feet back down. You’re bending over to his lap, palms resting on his spread out limbs, “You need to make it up to me,” You’re once again reaching for his sweats, the imprint of his shaft taking form at the side. He gently lays his hand on your wrist.
“Are you sure?” His eyes are wide, pupils dilated, the frames of his glasses are now on the tip of his nose bridge. But there’s a wave of genuine uncertainty blanketing his expression.
You’re blinking up at him, “Why wouldn’t I be?”
It’s a tangled knot in his chest, one bundled in embarrassing moments and unsuccessful hook-ups. He stuttered over his words,
“Just that before I’ve-“ he pondered if he should risk you laughing at him, but you’re expectantly looking into his eyes, and your hands are already on his lap, a little more and you’d be right where he’s aching for you. “I’m scared of making it…unpleasant?”
His hand rubs up and down your arms, you’re tuning him out and thinking of how you should go about sitting on him. He continued to ramble on, “Um, like I’ve been told it was…“
“Too big?” You ask, attention now on him. Externally you’re collected, stating it like a remark. But internally you know it’s a fact. You feel a little bad thinking about it but now you’re piecing together your earlier conversation on what Miwa’s friend’s friend might’ve been complaining about.
Choso all but nods, eyes scanning your room as if that would keep yours away from him. “I could just help you, y’know. We don’t have to—“
You’re turning over and maneuvering his hand out of his lap, sitting on his thigh. For a moment, you’re a little hesitant, hovering. “I mean I’d like it if we did, but I’m also…” His words trail off, holding your hip and securing you on his lap, unbothered as your weight settles on one thigh. He clears his throat, “I’m okay with, um, anything.”
You’re leaning into him, on your side, hand trailing underneath the hem of his shirt, grazing his clenched abdomen. He jolts, causing you to jump in your seat. Your eyes widen for a moment before relaxing, hand skating lower under the garter of his sweats with a simpering grin on your face. You’re kissing his cheek, gentle and slow as your hand palms over his hard, covered cock.
He’s watching your move under the fabric of his gray sweats, feeling your smaller fingers squeezing and rubbing the base of it. It hurts, he thinks. In a way that something stings and feels good at the same time. You’re squeezing at his tip when he throws his head back on the couch, groaning loudly. You take the opportunity to mouth on his neck again.
“Can you please— Can I please take it off?” He asks politely, but the grip on your hip feels anything but. You hum, still licking at the expanse of his neck.
You’re pulling his pants down with his help—mostly him just taking it off himself, desperate and aching. He’s bare from the waist down now when you settle back on his thigh, sweats and boxers discarded on the floor.
You’re now shamelessly gawking at his erection bouncing against stomach, slapping against it. The warmth of your hand catches him off guard, finally making contact skin to skin. You tug on the shaft, immediately taking notice of how your fingers struggle to close around it and were squeezing on accident.
“F—oh, god. ” He rests his head on your shoulder, sweat building on his forehead. You start moving your hand up and down, already slippery from how he’d been oozing in his boxers the entire time. He’s quiet behind you, save for the heavy breathing on your skin. You go faster. “Your hand’s so tight,” it comes out in a whimper. A wet, mouthing sensation can be felt on your shoulder, he’s biting your skin to muffle himself. But It doesn’t work, his throat lets loose with each reaction.
His eyes roll up from your shoulder when he feels you lean forwards and away from his chest, cock twitching when a wet glob of spit drips on him from your tongue.
You’re both watching your hand work up and down, bringing both onto the shaft, he’s cursing as you go faster.
You’re throwing your other leg over his thigh, straddling him in reverse, before resting back on him. Choso's hands come up to hold you under your knees, keeping your legs apart. He watched as the movement stretched the fabric, pussy still clad in underwear, drenched and barely covering it. But he can’t help but peek lower, your hands exclusively paying attention to his erection.
You joke, “It’s like I'm jerking myself off.”
A deep chuckle rumbles from his chest, the vibrations thrum against your back and you turn them into moans as you suddenly go faster. “Sucks though, I can’t feel it.”
You’re unable to see his expression behind you, but you can hear how his moans are muffled between his teeth, “You’re s-so eager.”
You reveled at how shaky he’d sounded. “One of us has to be.”
And then a strange noise akin to the tearing of fibers can be heard from below. You gasp as it happens in front of you, hands slowing its ministrations. You realize you’re watching him rip your underwear, exposing your wet, shiny pussy. “Hey—“
He’s adjusting himself from under you, bringing his other hand under your thigh, your legs tugged higher as he starts rubbing right on your clit.
He’s rough and accurate on where he wants to touch you, deliberate in his movements. He’s quick but he isn’t rushing either, his only motive was to get you to falter in his stead as you were doing just the same.
Your voice shrinks into breathy pants, the slick sound from your poor clit syncing in with each, “Ah, ah, Cho—“
“You’re making me so, so hard, baby—” You’re both an obscene sight to behold, playing with each other, spread out, grunting or whimpering. Both sloppily still trying to let your lips tangle with each other despite the inconvenient position. Both a mess, your tits spilling out of your bra, and his glasses all fogged up.
You grind into him, “Feels so good,” rubbing your juices on the cock you’re jerking with now one hand, coating his chubby length. Your body felt like it was on overdrive, moving your hips up and down as you clenched on nothing, gushing freely.
You’re biting your lip as your hips grow erratic, brows pinching and your abdomen clenches on itself. “I-I’m close.”
Choso lets a groan escape,“Fuck, really?” realizing he’s making you come first. It’s a miracle he’s held off this long, he wonders if he’ll hold up if you let him inside. The thought makes him move your hips on his cock, assisting you as you use him to get yourself off.
He doesn’t know if he’s breathing so hard because he’s getting tired or because he knows getting your clit rubbed nudges you a little closer to the edge when you start to get louder. He breathes against your ear, “Come on me, please.” He’s mumbling now, less at you and more to himself. “I wanna see you cum on me, please, please—”
Your legs begin to shake in his hold, fighting to shut close but the grip under your knees forces you to come with your legs spread wide, pussy making a show of spasming against Choso’s cock, voice breaking as you whimper. “That’s it baby, that’s it,”
Choso is completely enamored, the sounds of your high pitched whines in the air was like music to him, the way you writhe against his body was this entrapping dance. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you.
He notes how you were still in your bra, he whispers something about it, but you’re just nodding your head with your eyes shut, riding it out. Then he’s unclipping the strap with one hand, the fabric falling off and releasing your perfect tits.
You then relax your back to him, twitching still. But then he’s thrusting his erect cock up between your folds, the stimulation starting to make you wetter again, your breath can only catch up so fast. You’re attempting to lift your hips with a squirm.”Gi-give me a sec—”
Choso quickly lets your legs fall to the side and pauses, sitting up and moving your head to face him. “Shit- we can stop here,” he assured, breathy and worried. “I didn’t mean to, I was just looking at you. You looked-” So fucked out, “I’m sorry.“
“Sh-shut up,” You look away and Choso stiffens under you. Was he too rough? Before he could even utter another apology, you spoke, “I’m fine, I just need to— breathe.“
He watches you quiet down from underneath you, he’s rubbing your thighs comfortingly. “I am sorry,” The silence lingers, only getting tenser with each beat that passes.
And then you start chuckling — at nothing in particular. Your breathing slows down, and you look back to check on him. He looked so worried, brows pinched and his lip jutted out. A lazy smile breaks into your features, leaning down to catch him in a chaste kiss so he wouldn't see the expression on your face. “I liked it, okay?”
His breath hitched in his throat when you spoke against his lips, “Yeah?”
You’re nodding, smile now exposed. You kiss him again, powerless against his sweet lips. He relaxes, hand coming up to the back of your head. “I wanna-“ A kiss, “Fuck you now,” A slower kiss, “Please.”
He’s backing up to read your face, reassessing. Within the silence, something passes between you two. Amidst the air that smells of sex and vaguely of tea, there’s this mix of warmth and uncertainty—and whether or not to dive in it — that lingers in between.
He’s nervous under your gaze, once again, looking for a way out of your eyes that traps him so effectively like no other. He’s looking down at his still, very much, erect self. “I don’t have a condom.”
You’re thinking to yourself before you reach for the side table of your couch, scrambling for a box you kept there in case.
Choso’s scrambling to rip the plastic off before fishing for one packet. “I’m not really sure if it would fit so, maybe just try it,” You remark as you’re being maneuvered out of his lap and on the side of the couch. He fumbled with the rubber a couple times, pulling it down before it snapped a little too tightly on his girth. He tugs it down on him until a tear starts spreading on the side of the translucent material.
“I’m sor—“ He hissed as it snapped against his skin, “See I can’t even fucking…I don’t think this is quite right—” He’s cursing to himself, obviously a little sexually frustrated. For someone his size he still managed to look somewhat like a defeated puppy.
You’re tugging the broken thing off, relief blooming in his chest but it’s short lived as he’s reminded of how he might not even have sex with you anymore. “But no, we really don’t have to.” He says, discouraged.
“You can fuck me raw, I’m on the pill.” He internally groaned, pulled back out of his head. You just had a way with your words.
He does a complete 180, eyes widening, shifting from beaten to optimistic. He reminds himself to curb his excitement though, slowing down. “You can be on top—set the pace?” You’re already moving to sit on his lap.
He’s nodding his head at you, and finally rips his shirt off himself, now completely naked. You’re staring down at him, licking your lips at the sight of his milky skin and toned chest. He pulls you out of your thoughts, voice small and distant.
“I’ll pull out, yeah?” He’s swallowed back thickly, more of reminding himself to do that. “Just be slow okay? I didn’t prepare you that wel—um,"
His voice trails off when you’re already lining yourself up with his reddened tip. “A little at a time—Oh,” You’re already sinking down, unrepressed.
The stretch is long and constant, to the point it feels like you’re rethinking how fast you jumped on this, except you remember you’re already lowering yourself very carefully.
Your jaw hangs open in a silent scream when you get past the head, sinking lower, your walls throb against his member. You’re bracing yourself with a palm, Choso’s chest is covered in sweat and heaving. “You’re so—‘s really tight, oh fuck you’re so warm,” He whined out, unable to complete a sentence.
He’s leaving a trail of hot, open mouthed kisses on your neck and then back on your lips to keep your mewls at bay. You’re kissing back, he’s only half way in when you start moving. Choso’s breaths turn ragged against yours, pulling you closer to him. You catch your breath, “It’s stretching me out so much, Choo-” You whine, slowly rolling your hips.
He’s squeezing your waist before trailing his hands down your ass, “You’re doing good, you’re doing really good.”
He’s looking down at your progress, struggling to tell where you ended and he begun, now nearer to the base of his cock. He throbs inside you. “Fuck, a-are you okay?” He’s looking back up at your face, taking in your lips, bitten and swollen under your teeth.
He lets out a shaky whimper, “You’re taking so much.” His eyes finding their way back to your hole swallowing him. “So good, baby.”
You tuck your feet over his thighs for leverage, pulling off his cock slowly then sinking back down, and back up. You repeat the motions, torturously slow, your slick creating this lewd noise from each rock of your hips as you go deeper. Choso’s hands are on your thighs, weighing you down but he’s really holding back from actively pushing — still you’re sinking, taking more.
You start to bounce, struggling to hold yourself up with your palm on his chest, the slight sting of the stretch dulling out to a deep pressure. It’s a lot easier now, you go even faster with the help of your growing arousal slicking up his cock. Every touch you leave on each other now feels highly sensitive, your tits pressed against Choso’s hard chest, his hands squeezing on your ass for dear life. You’re left unable to keep up conversations or teases to each other now, heads completely in a different space. You're left babbling incoherencies as your tingling nerves derail your focus, the only thing clear was to go after what felt good.
But you falter, your knees slowing as they start to ache but you push yourself further, desperate, taking even more of Choso’s length. You find yourself losing balance and lean over, panting. You lift your hips, then let your ass fall back into his lap, a strained mewl leaving your throat, “I-I need help. I need you, Cho—need you t’a fuck my pussy,”
He groans out at how high your voice got, fresh from its suppressed whines. “Okay I’ll help,” He’s quick with his hands, holding you by the globes of your ass, and pulls you up. He bites back a noise, hearing and feeling your tight pussy gush and clamp on him as he lifts until it’s just the tip. “s’ okay if I thrust a little?” He whispers against your ear, growing desperate as his cock pulses in anticipation. You nod fervently in his neck, arms circled around him. “Okay baby, I’m gonna. I’m gonna help this pussy- fuckkk”
It’s noisier now, from your skin, sticky and slapping against each other, to your gasps turning into moans against each other’s open mouths. Choso’s now taking all the work, lifting your ass and bringing it down to meet his aching cock even faster than you could have. He starts meeting your pussy half way, thrusting up wards and it knocks the wind out of you.
Moans spill out of you with each thrust up, breaking and then bursting out of you. You’re clinging to him, bodies impossibly close, skin rubbed up against skin. “You’re so fucking loud, honey—do you like it?” His groans turn into grunts with how he’s physically exerting his body, on a mission to see you break apart on top of him.
You reply with a noise of acknowledgment, barely audible amongst the slapping and heavy breathing. You’re body feels hot all over, from inside and out. He’s deep enough inside you in places you didn’t even know was possible to go that far in, and the best worst part is you haven’t even reached the base of him yet. A new objective makes itself known in the part of your brain that still functioned, a dimly flickering idea.
“Ch-choso can you, ngh—“ You’re bringing your face out of his neck to face him, but he’s still busying himself with his thrusts, “I want you deeper, c-could you do that f’me?”
He’s letting out a high pitched whine he when lets you down, about to throw his head back when you catch his lips in yours, tugging on his hair and pulling roughly. “You’re stronger than me Cho, c’mon. Make me cum on your big cock—“
He groans, planting his feet on the ground, before you know it you’re up in the air, now standing. You cut yourself off with a moan, both of you do —sighing out when he lifts your ass up before dropping you on his painfully hard cock. “You’re so filthy when you talk, y’know that?”
It feels like he's all the way to your lungs when he finally bottoms out in you, which would make sense since it feels like you aren’t breathing anymore. You cry out once more, wiling your eyes and muffling the noises in his neck, biting down. “Are you crying?” He asks, concern prodding between his excitement, but the thought manages to make it’s way to his cock, fucking you on him rhytmically slow and deep. You let out a choked sob, “Fuck you’re crying—not even going that fast.”
“Then g-go faster,” You managed to voice out between moans, your hips wiggling in his grasp. He groans in response, kneading your ass to stop you from getting ahead of him.
“You tell me if it’s too much- just, you have to tell me a-alright?” You’re clenching on him, still trying to bounce. “Shit, Okay.”
The slower sounds of your skin slapping each other turn into rapid, sharp sounds. Choso grunting from each thrust, now fully unrepressed. In seconds, the image you’ve crafted of him as this shy, hesitant boy, crumbles. You’re fully moaning out now, his cock nudging deeper and repeatedly in that spot that triggers your insides. “I’m so full, fuck-“
He’s hiccuping his moans out, turning into whimpers as he pumps you up and down even faster, his nails digging into the meat of your ass. “You’re taking me so good baby,” He’s thrusting up when he lets you fall on his cock midway, his muscles forgetting to strain. “Fuck, take it, take it—“
He dives in against your lips, tongue invading your whimpering mouth. You try your best to kiss back, eyes nearly closing while he’s drowning you in him. You’re clenching on his cock a lot tighter now, his balls drenched in your arousal, slapping against your other hole from the impact of his motions.
“I think I—I’m gonna cum-“ You pull away from Choso who lets out a breathy moan, licking your lips to chase yours. You’re falling limp against him, hips rendered useless when he’s already fucking you on a pace outside of your own stamina.
Your insides are pulsing around his member, your moans growing even louder. Choso’s deep enough into you when he feels his cock twitch, “I need to pull out—“ You’re immediately protesting, letting out noises of disapproval. “No, no baby I’m gonna cum if you—“
“I don’t care.“ Fuck. Choso holds himself back, his pre-cum oozing out makes your sopping hole even more slippery at the thought of filling you up to the brim. He’s thinking of ways to keep himself from cumming right this very second when you’re already so fucked out and desperate, high up in your own head.
His dick twitches again and he’s biting his lip, slowing his carry on your body til you’re stopping altogether. Before you could say anything else, he’s pulling out and placing you on the couch, lying down. You’re complaining, spreading your legs as much as the cushions on your side could let you.
Choso’s holding his cock, squeezing at the base to calm himself down but he opens his eyes to your gaping, hungry hole, presented to him like an offer, “C-cum inside me, Cho,”
His resolve breaks within a blink of an eye, already laying above you and wrapping your legs around his waist. You feel like crying out of joy when he finally makes his way inside, thrusting slowly and hissing from how tight you still are. “I need to be on top of you, I need to—“ He mumbled, eyes already hazed out and clambering for satiation.
He topples over you as he finds his balance, now setting a newer pace from earlier, caging you with his body while his thrusts grow even faster.
The sensation is much more different now, a stretch added with the forces of his thrusts now fully landing on you.
He’s watching every twist of your face and moan spill out. Scanning your body downwards while he lays a palm on your lower abdomen, “If I cum inside you’re gonna bulge right h-here, d’ ya want that?”
You’re squealing against him when he presses down, his cock nudging where he’s digging his fingers from the outside. Your walls flutter against his member, sucking him in and pulsing wetly. Choso’s grunting against you, hips growing faster as he watches your eyes get even more hazy and your face twisted.
Your eyes are rolling back when he starts rubbing on your clit, already impatient with wanting to feel your pussy tighten impossibly around him.
He’s whispering incoherencies to you, face on your neck when he pulls back his hips and pushes back in deeply as he continues rubbing you.
You cry out, shuddering against Choso as the coil in you snaps, holding onto his wrist as your legs secured against his ribs.
He lets out a shaky moan, pumping faster when he chases his orgasm while you ride yours out on him, bodies grinding up against each other intimately.
A curse lets you know that he’s finally reached his climax, thrusts growing slow and deep while pumping you full of his sticky cum. Your eyes are glossed over, your throat sore from your own voice when he’s riding out his high, panting and leaving kisses all over your face.
Your chests are pumping against each other, both catching your breaths. Your hand finds its way to his face, turning it so he could look back at you. His cheeks are red and his glasses were no longer on him, probably losing them from how much you’d been switching positions.
You’re brushing his hair from his face, tucking a long strand onto his ear. Your body still feels like it’s on fire but it doesn’t compare to how even after all that, his stare on you still makes your heart skip a beat. You let out a breath, gathering yourself.
“What do you think?” His eyes scans over your face, “Better than coming up to study?”
Choso shifts on his elbows as he’s laying on top of you.“Yeah that was…” He takes a moment to think of a better way to describe it, a smile spreading on his face. “Really good.” He settles with honesty instead.
He’s thumbing over your shoulder, a hundred thoughts trying to materialize themselves in his still mushed up brain. “I’ve never done it like that, before I mean.“
He’s looking up to meet your eyes, and you’ve got a glow emitting from you, drawing him in. He hesitates for a moment but then, “And you? How’d you feel?”
You huff out a soft chuckle, realizing how ironic this all was. How you’ve still managed to not destroy the awkwardness that came with affections even when you’ve skipped over to, well sex. Choso waits for your answer, something swirls tight in his chest, uneasy but still patient.
You’re brushing back the hair on his scalp, taking in how much less guarded he looks without glasses. “Yeah, I feel…safe.”
He smiles, that knot in his chest untangling. To no surprise, he finds the thread it’s bundled from may be connected to you. “Yeah?”
NOTE: need me a catboy in my life tf. I also love just inputting shidou in the brothers business, like he has no need to be in this but I want him to be. Thanks for all the love on that first part 😛
That one night shifted something in Rin’s stubborn, hyper-fixated brain. Once he realized your bed was wayy softer than his, and that your presence effectively silenced the lingering ghosts of Blue Lock, the floodgates opened.
Rin became clingy. Almost unbearably so.
The quiet, aloof hybrid who used to glare at you from the safety of his corner was gone. Now, the moment you stepped through the front door after work, he was already standing there, towering over you with his arms crossed and his long tail whipping a frantic, impatient rhythm against your shins.
He completely refused to eat alone anymore; if you didn't sit down at the table with your own plate, he would simply sit at the kitchen table and stare at his bowl with a petulant scowl until you joined him (what a brat).
But the real trouble started with the scent of your office.
Several of your coworkers regularly brought their hybrids to work, mostly tiny, docile breeds with gentle temperaments who spent their days napping under desks and collecting treats from the staff.
Because you loved hybrids, you often gave into the temptation of giving them a quick scratch behind the ears before heading home.
To Rin, your return from the office became a whole ordeal. The second you walked in, his dark teal ears would perk up, and he would practically press his entire face into your neck, sniffing aggressively. The foreign scent of other, weaker hybrids drove his territorial predator instincts up a wall. He would hiss, a low, vibrating sound of pure disgust, and immediately drag his body against your clothes from behind, desperate to mask the offending odors with his own scent.
You briefly, fleetingly considered bringing him to the office with you just to appease his separation anxiety. That thought was instantly destroyed when you walked into the living room later that afternoon and witnessed him completely shred his sixth soccer ball, ripping the leather to absolute confetti with his bare claws just because he was bored.
Yeah... better not, you thought, sweating slightly. Your boss would never forgive you if Rin decided the industrial office printer was his next target.
His newfound possessiveness naturally spilled over into the nighttime. The guest room you had so carefully decorated was completely abandoned; Rin had officially colonized your bedroom. He didn't even wait for you to fall asleep anymore. The moment you climbed into bed, he would silently pad in, claim the exact center of the mattress, and burrow himself into the pillows.
He moved around so much trying to get comfortable that you eventually had to buy three more heavy, plush blankets just so you wouldn't get left freezing in the middle of the night.
And because he was a feline hybrid, the inevitable had finally happened: your pristine, crisp white comforter was now permanently covered in a tragic, undeniable layer of dark teal hair.
You sighed, rolling a lint roller across the neat sheets, and picking a stray teal strand off your pajama sleeve as Rin shifted beside you, his tail lazily draping over your ankle.
He was a possessive, shedding, soccer-ball-murdering menace, but as he let out a soft, contented huff in his sleep, you couldn't bring yourself to mind at all.
—
After weeks of watching him master the layout of your backyard, you finally decided he was ready for the ultimate milestone: a real walk to the neighborhood park.
Getting him out the door, however, was a massive ordeal. Before you even unlocked the front entrance, you sat Rin down in the foyer and made sure to talk some sense into him. You gripped your care guide like a gavel, looking him dead in the eye.
"Listen to me, Rin. We are going to a public space. If you start acting up, barking, or lunging at anyone, the snacks are gone for a week. And you will have to deal with the silicone muzzle again. Understand?"
Rin clicked his tongue, crossing his arms and averting his eyes with a moody huff. But he nodded.
You were so excited that you practically bounced on your heels as you pulled out your secret weapon: a heavy-duty leather leash that perfectly matched the custom acrylic keychain dangling from your house keys—the one engraved with both your names and a little heart.
Rin stared at the matching set, his dark teal ears flattening in sheer disbelief. He muttered something under his breath about it being incredibly tacky and "lukewarm," but he didn't pull away when you clipped it to his collar. What a party pooper.
He tried his best to maintain his stoic, unbothered persona, promising he’d behave himself, but he couldn't control his anatomy. His tail was whipping back and forth so hard it was practically thumping against the wall, a dead giveaway that he was secretly excited.
The walk itself went beautifully. Rin was the absolute epitome of a well-behaved companion. He walked beside you down the sidewalk with perfect posture, ignoring the passing cars and keeping his eyes glued to the path ahead.
When you finally reached the grassy field of the park, you let him drop his brand-new soccer ball—the seventh one now—to do whatever it is he does with a soccer ball.
The true test came when a pair of happy, overly enthusiastic canine hybrids ran over, one with yellow hair and the other blue, yapping excitedly and trying to play with his ball.
For a split second, you panicked, gripping the handle of the leash tightly. Rin’s ears pinned flat, and a dark, dangerous shadow crossed his eyes. But he took a deep, deliberate breath, and stepped in front of the ball to block them, and merely let out a sharp, warning hiss. He held back from absolutely tearing them apart, showing a level of restraint that made you beam with pride.
You even traded contact info with the owner of the two canines incase Rin wanted others to play with. You even managed to sneak in a pat on their heads. What a lovely pair those two make, they must be best friends. You thought wistfully watching Bachira, and Isagi pester Rin.
He was so incredibly good that on the way back, you decided he deserved a massive reward. You stopped by a high-end traditional restaurant and ordered a special, premium takeout container of Ochazuke, savory green tea poured over delicate dashi, rice, and seared salmon.
The moment you both got back home, you unclipped his leash, and Rin practically flew to the kitchen. He happily devoured the warm meal, his tail swaying in pure bliss as he tasted the rich broth. A sight you rarely get to see.
The heavy warmth of the food, combined with the sensory overload of his first big outing, caught up to him instantly. Minutes after finishing dinner, Rin dragged his feet over to the living room couch where you had just sat down. Without hesitation, he climbed up, turned around, and completely collapsed sideways, letting his heavy head drop right into your lap.
He was out cold within seconds, his dark teal ears twitching as he drifted into a deep sleep.
Smile melting, you slowly, carefully reached your hand out. You gently pressed your fingers into his soft hair, petting him as he let out a deep, rumbling purr that vibrated right against your thighs.
—
Now, Rin was basically domesticated—or, at least, as domesticated as a prideful, apex predator hybrid would ever allow himself to be. He finally let you do normal hybrid pet things, like dressing him up in the expensive designer loungewear you bought him. It was honestly offensive how good he looked in everything.
You doted on him relentlessly, entirely ignoring his constant, dramatic grumbling and complaints. You know he secretly likes it.
It was an ordinary, lazy Sunday afternoon. Rin was melting into your lap, his heavy head resting comfortably on your thighs while you lazily shook a fluffy dangling teaser toy above his face. His dark teal ears twitched, tracking the feathers. Occasionally, he would huff, swatting at it with a single finger and muttering, “Put it closer to my face, idiot.”
The peaceful silence was broken when your phone suddenly began to blare from across the room.
With a soft sigh, you set the toy aside and started to rise. Rin let out a displeased, guttural whine, begrudgingly shifting his weight so you could stand, his tail thumping against the couch cushions in protest.
You picked up the device to see Shidou’s name flashing on the screen. Shidou was a fellow hybrid owner and your chaotic childhood friend, currently living abroad for work. You swiped answer, and the speaker immediately exploded with his loud, unfiltered voice.
"Yo! What's up, slacker?!" Shidou cackled by way of greeting.
You chuckled, leaning against the kitchen counter. "Hey, Shidou. I'm good. How's Madrid treating you?"
"Amazing! The energy here is insane!" Shidou rambled, before pausing. "Oh, by the way, I finally did it. I adopted my own hybrid. Absolute genius, this guy."
"Oh, really? I actually heard about that a while ago," you replied, smiling. "Congratulations. What kind did you get? I actually just adopted one recently, too."
Shidou hummed over the line. "Mine’s one of those predator breed type. What about yours? What’s the paperwork say?"
You racked your brain, recalling the complex classifications listed on Rin's official adoption documents from the Second Chance Foundation.
"Uh, let's see... his file classified him as an ultra-rare, high-risk feline predator variant. Specifically an Arctic-boreal pantherine hybrid, don’t ask me what that is, I don’t even know. But they’re extremely territorial and their aggression is off the charts.”
There was a sudden, dead silence on the other end of the line. Then, Shidou burst into a loud, hysterical fit of laughter that nearly blew your eardrums out.
"No way! You've gotta be kidding me!" Shidou wheezed, slamming his hand against a table on his end. "Holy shit! Mine’s from the exact same litter!"
Your breath hitched. "What?"
"Yeah! The shelter told me his backstory when I cleared the background checks," Shidou yelled cheerfully. "I adopted a hybrid named Sae! Sae Itoshi!"
The name hit you like a wave. Your mind instantly flashed back to that first day in the isolation corridor of the sanctuary—the tired staff attendant flipping through a clipboard, explaining Rin’s history.
'He was actually rescued alongside his older brother, Sae... Sae was adopted by that foreign football player last month... when Sae left, Rin's abandonment issues got worse...'
"Sae..." you whispered.
Shidou’s loud voice broke through your stunned train of thought. "Hey, you still there? Listen, this is perfect! I'm actually flying back to Japan later this year. We’re totally meeting up. A family reunion type of shit, you know? The brothers gotta see each other!"
Before you could even process the absolute chaos of a reunion between Rin and the brother who inadvertently broke him, a crashing sound echoed from Shidou's side of the phone.
"HEY! Drop that! Drop it right now, bad Sae!" Shidou suddenly screamed away from the receiver. He huffed back into the phone, "Gotta go, babe! Sae’s tryna rip my uniforms. See ya!"
Then the line went dead.
You stood frozen in the kitchen, staring blankly at your phone screen, trying to comprehend the cosmic coincidence of it all. But you weren't allowed to ponder it for long.
A heavy, warm weight suddenly crashed into your back. Rin had crept up behind. Annoyed by your long absence, he pressed his chest firmly against your back, draping his broad shoulders over yours. His tufted ears brushed against your cheek, and his long tail wrapped tightly around your waist, forcefully dragging you backwards toward the couch.
"You're ignoring me for a stupid phone call," Rin muttered into your neck, his voice a deep, possessive growl as he squeezed you tighter. "Drop the phone. Put the toy back in my face."
You melted against his warmth, hiding your growing panic behind a soft smile. You would have to deal with the reality of Sae and Shidou later. For now, you had a very grumpy, very clingy hybrid to appease.
NOTE: need me a catboy in my life tf. I also love just inputting shidou in the brothers business, like he has no need to be in this but I want him to be. Thanks for all the love on that first part 😛
That one night shifted something in Rin’s stubborn, hyper-fixated brain. Once he realized your bed was wayy softer than his, and that your presence effectively silenced the lingering ghosts of Blue Lock, the floodgates opened.
Rin became clingy. Almost unbearably so.
The quiet, aloof hybrid who used to glare at you from the safety of his corner was gone. Now, the moment you stepped through the front door after work, he was already standing there, towering over you with his arms crossed and his long tail whipping a frantic, impatient rhythm against your shins.
He completely refused to eat alone anymore; if you didn't sit down at the table with your own plate, he would simply sit at the kitchen table and stare at his bowl with a petulant scowl until you joined him (what a brat).
But the real trouble started with the scent of your office.
Several of your coworkers regularly brought their hybrids to work, mostly tiny, docile breeds with gentle temperaments who spent their days napping under desks and collecting treats from the staff.
Because you loved hybrids, you often gave into the temptation of giving them a quick scratch behind the ears before heading home.
To Rin, your return from the office became a whole ordeal. The second you walked in, his dark teal ears would perk up, and he would practically press his entire face into your neck, sniffing aggressively. The foreign scent of other, weaker hybrids drove his territorial predator instincts up a wall. He would hiss, a low, vibrating sound of pure disgust, and immediately drag his body against your clothes from behind, desperate to mask the offending odors with his own scent.
You briefly, fleetingly considered bringing him to the office with you just to appease his separation anxiety. That thought was instantly destroyed when you walked into the living room later that afternoon and witnessed him completely shred his sixth soccer ball, ripping the leather to absolute confetti with his bare claws just because he was bored.
Yeah... better not, you thought, sweating slightly. Your boss would never forgive you if Rin decided the industrial office printer was his next target.
His newfound possessiveness naturally spilled over into the nighttime. The guest room you had so carefully decorated was completely abandoned; Rin had officially colonized your bedroom. He didn't even wait for you to fall asleep anymore. The moment you climbed into bed, he would silently pad in, claim the exact center of the mattress, and burrow himself into the pillows.
He moved around so much trying to get comfortable that you eventually had to buy three more heavy, plush blankets just so you wouldn't get left freezing in the middle of the night.
And because he was a feline hybrid, the inevitable had finally happened: your pristine, crisp white comforter was now permanently covered in a tragic, undeniable layer of dark teal hair.
You sighed, rolling a lint roller across the neat sheets, and picking a stray teal strand off your pajama sleeve as Rin shifted beside you, his tail lazily draping over your ankle.
He was a possessive, shedding, soccer-ball-murdering menace, but as he let out a soft, contented huff in his sleep, you couldn't bring yourself to mind at all.
—
After weeks of watching him master the layout of your backyard, you finally decided he was ready for the ultimate milestone: a real walk to the neighborhood park.
Getting him out the door, however, was a massive ordeal. Before you even unlocked the front entrance, you sat Rin down in the foyer and made sure to talk some sense into him. You gripped your care guide like a gavel, looking him dead in the eye.
"Listen to me, Rin. We are going to a public space. If you start acting up, barking, or lunging at anyone, the snacks are gone for a week. And you will have to deal with the silicone muzzle again. Understand?"
Rin clicked his tongue, crossing his arms and averting his eyes with a moody huff. But he nodded.
You were so excited that you practically bounced on your heels as you pulled out your secret weapon: a heavy-duty leather leash that perfectly matched the custom acrylic keychain dangling from your house keys—the one engraved with both your names and a little heart.
Rin stared at the matching set, his dark teal ears flattening in sheer disbelief. He muttered something under his breath about it being incredibly tacky and "lukewarm," but he didn't pull away when you clipped it to his collar. What a party pooper.
He tried his best to maintain his stoic, unbothered persona, promising he’d behave himself, but he couldn't control his anatomy. His tail was whipping back and forth so hard it was practically thumping against the wall, a dead giveaway that he was secretly excited.
The walk itself went beautifully. Rin was the absolute epitome of a well-behaved companion. He walked beside you down the sidewalk with perfect posture, ignoring the passing cars and keeping his eyes glued to the path ahead.
When you finally reached the grassy field of the park, you let him drop his brand-new soccer ball—the seventh one now—to do whatever it is he does with a soccer ball.
The true test came when a pair of happy, overly enthusiastic canine hybrids ran over, one with yellow hair and the other blue, yapping excitedly and trying to play with his ball.
For a split second, you panicked, gripping the handle of the leash tightly. Rin’s ears pinned flat, and a dark, dangerous shadow crossed his eyes. But he took a deep, deliberate breath, and stepped in front of the ball to block them, and merely let out a sharp, warning hiss. He held back from absolutely tearing them apart, showing a level of restraint that made you beam with pride.
You even traded contact info with the owner of the two canines incase Rin wanted others to play with. You even managed to sneak in a pat on their heads. What a lovely pair those two make, they must be best friends. You thought wistfully watching Bachira, and Isagi pester Rin.
He was so incredibly good that on the way back, you decided he deserved a massive reward. You stopped by a high-end traditional restaurant and ordered a special, premium takeout container of Ochazuke, savory green tea poured over delicate dashi, rice, and seared salmon.
The moment you both got back home, you unclipped his leash, and Rin practically flew to the kitchen. He happily devoured the warm meal, his tail swaying in pure bliss as he tasted the rich broth. A sight you rarely get to see.
The heavy warmth of the food, combined with the sensory overload of his first big outing, caught up to him instantly. Minutes after finishing dinner, Rin dragged his feet over to the living room couch where you had just sat down. Without hesitation, he climbed up, turned around, and completely collapsed sideways, letting his heavy head drop right into your lap.
He was out cold within seconds, his dark teal ears twitching as he drifted into a deep sleep.
Smile melting, you slowly, carefully reached your hand out. You gently pressed your fingers into his soft hair, petting him as he let out a deep, rumbling purr that vibrated right against your thighs.
—
Now, Rin was basically domesticated—or, at least, as domesticated as a prideful, apex predator hybrid would ever allow himself to be. He finally let you do normal hybrid pet things, like dressing him up in the expensive designer loungewear you bought him. It was honestly offensive how good he looked in everything.
You doted on him relentlessly, entirely ignoring his constant, dramatic grumbling and complaints. You know he secretly likes it.
It was an ordinary, lazy Sunday afternoon. Rin was melting into your lap, his heavy head resting comfortably on your thighs while you lazily shook a fluffy dangling teaser toy above his face. His dark teal ears twitched, tracking the feathers. Occasionally, he would huff, swatting at it with a single finger and muttering, “Put it closer to my face, idiot.”
The peaceful silence was broken when your phone suddenly began to blare from across the room.
With a soft sigh, you set the toy aside and started to rise. Rin let out a displeased, guttural whine, begrudgingly shifting his weight so you could stand, his tail thumping against the couch cushions in protest.
You picked up the device to see Shidou’s name flashing on the screen. Shidou was a fellow hybrid owner and your chaotic childhood friend, currently living abroad for work. You swiped answer, and the speaker immediately exploded with his loud, unfiltered voice.
"Yo! What's up, slacker?!" Shidou cackled by way of greeting.
You chuckled, leaning against the kitchen counter. "Hey, Shidou. I'm good. How's Madrid treating you?"
"Amazing! The energy here is insane!" Shidou rambled, before pausing. "Oh, by the way, I finally did it. I adopted my own hybrid. Absolute genius, this guy."
"Oh, really? I actually heard about that a while ago," you replied, smiling. "Congratulations. What kind did you get? I actually just adopted one recently, too."
Shidou hummed over the line. "Mine’s one of those predator breed type. What about yours? What’s the paperwork say?"
You racked your brain, recalling the complex classifications listed on Rin's official adoption documents from the Second Chance Foundation.
"Uh, let's see... his file classified him as an ultra-rare, high-risk feline predator variant. Specifically an Arctic-boreal pantherine hybrid, don’t ask me what that is, I don’t even know. But they’re extremely territorial and their aggression is off the charts.”
There was a sudden, dead silence on the other end of the line. Then, Shidou burst into a loud, hysterical fit of laughter that nearly blew your eardrums out.
"No way! You've gotta be kidding me!" Shidou wheezed, slamming his hand against a table on his end. "Holy shit! Mine’s from the exact same litter!"
Your breath hitched. "What?"
"Yeah! The shelter told me his backstory when I cleared the background checks," Shidou yelled cheerfully. "I adopted a hybrid named Sae! Sae Itoshi!"
The name hit you like a wave. Your mind instantly flashed back to that first day in the isolation corridor of the sanctuary—the tired staff attendant flipping through a clipboard, explaining Rin’s history.
'He was actually rescued alongside his older brother, Sae... Sae was adopted by that foreign football player last month... when Sae left, Rin's abandonment issues got worse...'
"Sae..." you whispered.
Shidou’s loud voice broke through your stunned train of thought. "Hey, you still there? Listen, this is perfect! I'm actually flying back to Japan later this year. We’re totally meeting up. A family reunion type of shit, you know? The brothers gotta see each other!"
Before you could even process the absolute chaos of a reunion between Rin and the brother who inadvertently broke him, a crashing sound echoed from Shidou's side of the phone.
"HEY! Drop that! Drop it right now, bad Sae!" Shidou suddenly screamed away from the receiver. He huffed back into the phone, "Gotta go, babe! Sae’s tryna rip my uniforms. See ya!"
Then the line went dead.
You stood frozen in the kitchen, staring blankly at your phone screen, trying to comprehend the cosmic coincidence of it all. But you weren't allowed to ponder it for long.
A heavy, warm weight suddenly crashed into your back. Rin had crept up behind. Annoyed by your long absence, he pressed his chest firmly against your back, draping his broad shoulders over yours. His tufted ears brushed against your cheek, and his long tail wrapped tightly around your waist, forcefully dragging you backwards toward the couch.
"You're ignoring me for a stupid phone call," Rin muttered into your neck, his voice a deep, possessive growl as he squeezed you tighter. "Drop the phone. Put the toy back in my face."
You melted against his warmth, hiding your growing panic behind a soft smile. You would have to deal with the reality of Sae and Shidou later. For now, you had a very grumpy, very clingy hybrid to appease.
Summary: After your new neighbor saves you from AVTF, you bake him cookies to thank him. Dex isn’t used to getting gifts and it’s not long before you become important to him.
Tags: Bullseye’s identity is hidden/No one knows he is Dex (slight AU), Reader doesn’t understand social cues, Reader is empathic, Blood/Violence/Murder, Age gap (mid/late 20s reader), Stalking/Obsessive Dex, Jealous Dex, No use of y/n
Notes: I think is my first time writing an x reader fic (or maybe first time in a very long time??). I think this will only be a few chapters, but idk yet.
You made it back to your apartment building with grocery bags in both your hands, already wondering if this would be your last trip for a while. Hell’s Kitchen had been getting worse lately, especially with mayor Fisk’s anti vigilante task force roaming the streets.
You almost didn’t notice the man walking down the hallway leading to your apartment. The noise canceling headphones you wore felt necessary with the city noises, but maybe not the safest choice anymore.
You remembered what your roommate had mentioned a few nights ago while through scrolling on her phone.
“By the way, there’s a new guy down the hall. I think. I saw him talking to the landlord. He’s kinda.. weird.”
You had nodded, even though you weren’t sure what she meant by it.
You hadn’t even saw the new neighbor until now as you fumbled your key out of your pocket while balancing most bags in your other hand.
The man was moving swiftly down the hall faster than most people you see go in and out, like he was locked onto wherever he was going.
You glanced up curiously, not sure what to expect, but his size caught you off guard. Not just tall, but muscular too. Around here, people usually only looked like that if they worked in something rough enough to require it.
As he neared you down the hallway, you realized maybe you should be polite and greet him.. Or maybe it was safer to keep to yourself… but people usually introduce themselves.. or at least say hi.
You paused then glanced at him once more before stiffly turning and lifting your hand to a small wave.
As he brushed past you, his eyes shifted down at you for maybe half a second before looking forward again, not slowing even slightly. No response.
You lowered your hand. “..okay” you murmured under your breath.
You then entered your apartment and for a second, you stood there in the entryway while thinking it over.
Maybe you should’ve said something out loud.. or smiled with the wave… or not even bothered at all.
It’s not a big deal, probably. He looked busy anyways.
-
Your work routine is just fine. At least, that’s the easiest way to put it. You have a semi-manageable job schedule and it pays your bills, sometimes just barely, but at least it is only a 20 minute walk from where you live.
The office you work in is pretty basic and usually doesn’t become too overwhelming.
At your desk you sort through paperwork and organize them properly, sometimes running errands for your boss.
During lunch break a couple of the co-workers that hang closer to you invite you. You agree because, although you wanted the time alone today, they would make an excuse for you to join them anyways.
By the time the day is finished and you are walking back down the hallway to your apartment door, you feel exhaustion and can’t wait to lie down.
You walk toward your door while reaching for the key out of your bag, but your movements slow when you look across to the new neighbor’s door.
The man is there again, standing outside the door as if he is just about to go in, but he is lingering.
You haven’t seen him in about a week since your first sight of him. You wondered if maybe he had already moved out, but there he was again.
He didn’t notice you at first. He leaned against his doorframe oddly, as if he was propping himself up while searching for the key.
You notice red dripping down from his eyebrow. A cut maybe? Did he get into a fight? You wonder.
You try not to stare, but you probably only make it more obvious by the way you turned your head to glance over, then look back at your door, then glance over again in a repeated motion.
Maybe you should say something, you think, like ask him if he’s okay? You could offer a bandaid or-
Your thoughts went quiet the moment he looked over at you. He only stared for a few seconds, but something about the intensity of it sent a chill down your spine. You try to turn your attention back to your door through slowed movements.
Down the hall, you heard the click of a lock turning. Glancing back over your shoulder, you caught him looking at you one last time before he disappeared inside his apartment.
You sighed and stepped into your apartment. You really sucked at socializing in the right ways.
An hour later, after finishing your bedtime routine, you stood in your bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. You look at your bandaids, but the only ones remaining were a couple of snoopy themed bandaids.
How stupid. You sighed. But it was better than nothing, wasn’t it?
Before settling into bed, you very hesitantly walked back into the hall with a bandaid in your hand. When you stopped at your new neighbor’s door you lifted your arm and contemplated knocking, but you stopped.
This is ridiculous. You thought to yourself.
You almost turned and left, but at the last second you quickly bent down and slid the bandaid underneath the crack of the door before rushing back to your own.
-
A week passes without you seeing him again and work fills most of your time, yet the blood and the look he gave you still occasionally lingers in the back of your mind. What was that about?
At some point, you overhear a front desk worker mention to another resident that he used to be FBI. That makes more sense now. Does it?
People in those kinds of jobs probably get hurt often and it’s probably for the best that you haven’t crossed paths with him. Especially after leaving that bandaid under his door.
-
You get home late after work one night.
The lobby lights are on, but you notice something is immediately wrong. There are people gathered near the front desk, their hands either slightly raised or covering their faces.
Then you see an officer holding up a gun in their direction. AVTF.
Your steps slow to a stop as you observe the officer appears agitated in a way that feels unpredictable. Everything in you tenses like your body is bracing for something you don’t know how to respond to.
“Are you hiding him?” the man snaps, “don’t play stupid with me. I know he’s been here.”
The workers behind the desk look panicked.
“We- we don’t know who you’re talking about-”
“Bullseye,” he interrupts, “you expect me to believe no one’s seen him?” The officer then slams a knife into the desk, carved with some type of symbol. “This is his. I found it outside the building after tracking him the other night.”
To you, the name sounds almost familiar. Like you’ve heard it before on the news, possibly. Something about a vigilante, but you’re not entirely sure.
…But if a vigilante was living here, it would be hard not to notice. There must be some type of mistake.
No one is answering him the way he wants and he seems to be getting impatient, so you try to be reasonable with him.
“Officer,” you say, your voice quieter than you expected, “I- I’ve never seen him, so it’s unlikely he lives here. There must be a misunderstanding-”
The man turns toward you like you’ve done something wrong. “I didn’t ask if he lived here. I asked if he was being hidden.”
You blink, thrown off by whatever accusation he was trying to throw.
“Are you trying to trick me with your words?” His voice rising. “Why don’t you come here.”
He motions to floor beside him with the gun, but your body doesn’t move.
Your mind catches on the phrasing trick me? Trying to understand what part of what you said could be taken that way.
Ridiculous.
The officer steps forward, closing the distance quickly by grabbing your arm. Your breath catches sharply as you instinctively pull back, your body reacting before you can think through it.
“I-I’m not!” Your voice trembles.
“Maybe it takes someone dying to get some answers around here.”
The gun lifts and you can feel the presence of it near your head.
Everything inside you goes still, but somehow your mind races at the same time. You were probably about to die and you couldn’t even process what you should do in this last moment.
Someone behind the desk starts pleading, telling him to stop, but you can’t really make anything out from the fear you feel.
Your eyes squeeze shut and your hands curl in on themselves as your whole body locks up. You don’t know what you’re supposed to say.. or do…
You whisper a prayer underneath your breath, but before you finish a gunshot rings out, but it didn’t echo from where you expect.
Something warm flecked faintly against your check, followed by the feeling of pressure disappearing near your head. There’s a shift behind you and then a heavy thud. The officer isn’t holding you anymore. You don’t move at first and your eyes stay closed for a second longer before you slowly open them.
You turn and the officer is on the ground, gurgling in a pool of his own blood. The sight of it makes you look away immediately, snapping your head back forward to the ground.
Your breathing is still uneven as your eyes flick upward instead, searching for where the shot came from.
Across the lobby, your new neighbor stands near the entrance, like he had just walked in. A gun hangs loosely in his hand, lowered now. Strangely, his grip is relaxed and doesn’t match with what happened. Almost like it required no effort at all.
His expression is also nothing.. maybe slightly irritated, like something inconvenient just occurred, but not enough to matter.
Behind the desk, the tension breaks and the voices rise in relief and gratitude, but your ears are still ringing and you’re still too shaken up to focus on anything anyone is saying.
You’re still standing where the officer left you, but now blood is pooling at your shoes. It causes your stomach to lurch. A faint tremor still ran through your hands as you tried to block out the warm feeling of blood specks on your face.
-
The next few days, the whole apartment was still in a paranoid frenzy after the events of that night. There were so many witnesses to what had happened that your neighbor wasn’t arrested or charged. In fact, the news stirred up citizens of Hell’s Kitchen and raised even more suspicions against the AVTF. The whole incident was passed off as an unstable officer who must have been working against the major’s orders, though many people didn’t believe it.
You called out of work that week, keeping yourself confined in your bed where it was safe. Your phone buzzed occasionally somewhere across the room, but you ignored it. You avoided all news or social media, not that you normally looked at those things often anyways.
Even your roommate knocked on your door a few times to check on you, but you never answered it.
Your hands hadn’t stopped trembling from that night and although you had scrubbed every inch of your body, you could still feel the slight warmth of the blood that hit your cheek.
You couldn’t properly sleep for days because of the memory. The officer’s hand grabbing you, the gun pressed to your head, the gunshot and then seeing him choking on his on blood. It all stayed with you. Hell’s Kitchen had plenty of crime, but you had never experienced, nor seen something horrific like that. It’s something you will never really forget.
Your mind lingers to your neighbor. You think about him more than you mean to. About the way he stood there with cold eyes.. just empty.
The memory sends a shiver crawling down your spine.
Maybe he’d killed people before.. maybe that was normal for someone who used to be in the FBI. Maybe whatever assignments he worked made him used to things like that.
You don’t know, but you try not to think too hard about it. Either way, he saved your life. The realization keeps circling back no matter how uncomfortable it makes you.
If he hadn’t been there, it would’ve been you on the floor instead of the officer. He saved you and you don’t even know his name. You never thanked him.
Eventually you push yourself upright for the first time all day and stare at the wall for a long moment.
The apartment is quiet when you step into the kitchen. Your roommate is at work, which helps because you don’t have to hear questions or get strange looks.
Baking always helped you take your mind off things and this way you would be putting it to good use.
Soon the counter is cluttered with ingredients, measuring cups, bowls and other baking tools. You put your headphones on and start mixing the ingredients together.
By the time you pull the cookies out of the oven, you feel a little more eased. You arrange them carefully inside one of the nicer plastic containers you keep for special occasions.
Chocolate chip should be fine, you think. Everyone likes chocolate chip cookies.. at least you think everyone should.
You stand there holding the container for a while after that. Your eyes drift toward the apartment door and your stomach tightens again.
It’s okay now, you remind yourself.. the officer is dead. The thought brings relief so quickly that the feeling is replaced with guilt. Relief shouldn’t feel good when someone died. …Even if he almost killed you, right? Even if you still wake up with the feeling of a gun pressed to your head..
Before you can overthink it too much, you leave your apartment.
You stop outside your neighbor’s door and stare at it before shifting the container nervously in your grip. You raise your hand and knock lightly against the door then wait for a minute, but no one answers.
Maybe he isn’t home.. or maybe he’s sleeping... Or maybe people don’t usually knock on his door and this is strange and you should’ve thought about that before coming here. But you knock again anyways, a little harder this time.
Still no one answers. You considered leaving the container outside the door instead when the lock finally clicks and the door opens.
Up close, he somehow seems taller than he did before.. broader too. He’s also much handsome then you remember, though you never got a clear look at him until now. You notice the deep healed scar on his right cheek, yet it only seems to enhance his appearance.. you snap out of the thought.
Admiring your, much older, neighbor right in front of his face was definitely an interesting way to start off.
His expression is unreadable as he looks down at you.
You suddenly realize you didn’t think about what you were actually going to say and there’s a long pause while he waits. You just stand there holding the container awkwardly while your mind struggles to fill the silence.
“Oh.” You quickly hold the container out toward him. “I made these for you- I mean to thank you,” you correct yourself. “I know it doesn’t compare to you saving my life or anything, I just.. I was going to thank you sooner, I’ve just been.. uh..”
You don’t really want to explain the last week, but your hands were shaking enough to give it away.
There’s another pause before you speak again abruptly, pushing the container slightly closer toward him like that somehow fixes the conversation.
“It’s chocolate chip.”
Dex glanced down at the container. No expression crosses his face at first, but when his eyes lift back to yours he looks more attentive like he’s studying you.
You keep talking before the silence can settle again. “What you did was..” You swallowed. “Well, if you hadn’t been there.. I would be dead, so… thank you for saving me.”
Saving me.
Dex watches you carefully. The way your gaze keeps slipping away from his before cautiously returning.
Then he thinks about the word saving.
That hadn’t really been the intention. The officer was a problem. The AVTF had been getting too close already and if they tracked him to the building, that couldn’t continue. The man needed to die.
You surviving had simply been convenient and lucky for you.. and yet hearing you say it like that makes something pause in the back of his mind.
Saving you.
He finally reaches out and takes the container from your hands. “Well,” he says smoothly, almost dry, “you can’t really go wrong bringing cookies to someone’s door.”
You blinked once as another thought hits you. “Oh- I should’ve introduced myself.”
You tell him your name then you look up at him expectantly and Dex notices immediately. The long pause and stare he gives doesn’t bother you the way it should. You just stand there patiently, eyes resting on him with silent curiosity, waiting for him to tell you his bame.
He also noticed how close you’re standing and he almost takes a step back out of habit, but he doesn’t. Instead, he tilts his head slightly and forces something close to a smile or a smirk onto his face. It’s not unfriendly, but practiced, it’s not like you notice that though.
“I’m Dex.”
You nodded. “I haven’t seen you around much,” you say honestly. “I was going to say hi last week, but you seemed kind of busy.”
The second the words leave your mouth, you regret it.
What were you even saying?
You sound ridiculous.
You’re trying to have normal conversation with the man who literally saved your life and somehow you’re talking about hallway timing.
Dex’s expression shifts subtly. He knew exactly which moment you’re talking about.
“Yeah,” he says after a second. “I’m usually busy with work.”
You nod, relieved he didn’t mention the bandaid left under his door. There was no proof it was from you, but you were probably the only one to see him.
There’s another awkward pause.
“But thanks for this,” he adds, lifting the container.
You stare at him for a few seconds and Dex waits staring back. You don’t move until you blink as realization catches up.
Right. That was probably the end of the conversation.
A small smile finally spreads across your face. “I hope you like them.”
You lift your hand in a small wave before turning and heading back down the hallway toward your apartment. Dex watches you the entire way until the door shuts quietly behind you.
Maybe that could have went better, you thought to yourself while you begin to clean up the kitchen.
Dex remains standing there for a moment longer with the container still in his hands and he looks down at it once more before stepping back into his apartment.
Idk how I feel about this fic but thanks for reading :D
Your family sets you up with potential husbands….. rich, influential JJK men… for a business marriage. You try to scare them off by acting weird but it backfires… and now you have 4 men obsessed with you.
Pairings : Yandere JJKmen x Reader
Ft. Gojo, Sukuna, Toji, Nanami
Tw: MDNI, some 18+ jokes, fanfic
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Last Part
How the fuck were you supposed to know they all knew each other? Like, genuinely, in what universe was that information NOT relevant?
The office scene from earlier still played in your brain like a YouTube video stuck on loop. Your coworker Mei had filmed the whole thing and was probably already editing it for TikTok with some godforsaken caption like "bestie's reverse harem era just dropped."
(You were starting to suspect you WERE the protagonist of a poorly written fanfiction.)
You had managed to usher them out… separately, because putting them in an elevator together seemed like a recipe for either murder or an orgy, and you weren't sure which was worse.
NANAMI KENTO - same day, Evening
Nanami sat at his desk at home, tie loosened, jacket discarded, staring at nothing.
He’d never been in a situation like this. Never competed for a woman’s attention. Never wanted to. But here he was.
And worse… here they were. Three other men who apparently wanted exactly what he wanted.
You.
The gentlemanly thing to do would be to step aside, let you choose from the others without pressure.
But the thought of you choosing Gojo… a womanizer…. made his jaw clench.
Or Sukuna…. dangerous, possibly criminal.
Or Toji…. who clearly didn’t respect you enough to take any of this seriously.
No.
No, he wasn’t stepping aside.
He pulled out his phone and typed a message.
Nanami: I apologize for today’s disruption. I hope you’re well. Would you be available for coffee this weekend? I’d like to speak with you properly.
He hit send before he could overthink it. Then immediately started overthinking it.
FUSHIGURO TOJI - NIGHT
Toji was not a planner.
He didn’t do strategies or schemes or any of that corporate bullshit the other three probably thrived on. But he also wasn’t an idiot.
He’d seen the way you looked at him. You liked him. Maybe despite yourself, but you liked him.
And he liked you. More than he’d liked anyone in a long time. Maybe ever.
Which meant he wasn’t backing down just because three other assholes had decided they wanted you too.
He pulled out his phone and scrolled to your number.
Toji: You still have that cat?
He waited. It was late. You were probably asleep.
Then: three dots appeared.
You: Why are you texting me at midnight
Toji: Answer the question
You: Yes I still have the cat. It’s on my bed. Happy?
He grinned.
Toji: Very. Sweet dreams.
You didn’t respond to that.
RYOMEN SUKUNA - NIGHT
Sukuna leaned back in his chair. He’d never competed for anything in his life…. people either gave him what he wanted or he took it.
But he couldn’t take you. That much was clear.
Which meant he’d have to actually try. Actually compete. The thought should have irritated him.
Instead, it made him smile.
~~~~
You were laying on your couch…. a secondhand monstrosity you'd gotten from a friend of a friend who may or may not have used it to film adult content, but you tried not to think about that.…. staring at your ceiling's water stain that had recently evolved from "mushroom shaped" to "definitely looks like a dick now," while your phone buzzed…..
Buzz buzz buzz
You'd been ignoring it for twenty minutes now, which was impressive considering your phone addiction.
You KNEW who it was.
You knew because because you'd made the mistake of glancing at your lock screen twelve buzzes ago and seen his name.
Gojo Satoru
AKA: one of the four horsemen of your apocalypse
Your phone buzzed again. Then again … and again and again….
"Oh for the love of…” you groaned, rolling over so violently that your cat relocated to your laundry pile where she immediately started kneading it with her claws.
Great. More holes in your clothes. Perfect.
Gojo (do not answer) : Good morning my lil saint 😘
Gojo (do not answer) : Heyyyy
Gojo (do not answer) : there was some excitement at your office
Gojo (do not answer) : You never told me you were into group activities
Gojo (do not answer) : not judging. just curious 👀
Gojo (do not answer) : I know you're reading these
Gojo (do not answer) : Your read receipts are on, sweetheart
Fuck. Fuck. You'd been meaning to turn those off for like three years but kept forgetting, which was very on brand for your life choices.
You: WHAT DO YOU WANT
Gojo (do not answer) : ouch
Gojo (do not answer) : straight to business huh
Gojo (do nt answer) : no "hi satoru" or "wow satoru you're so handsome and thoughtful for checking on me"
You could feel your twitching. You wanted to throw your phone across the room. You really, truly did. But phones are expensive and you’re not about to sacrifice your cracked screen, two generations old iPhone to make a point that Gojo Satoru will probably just find amusing.
Gojo (do not answer) : I have a proposition. meet me tomorrow
Gojo (do not answer) : I can help with your little... situation
He sent an address. Some caféyou'd never heard of, which meant it was either incredibly exclusive or a front for money laundering. With Gojo, both options seemed equally plausible.
You: Why would I meet you anywhere
You: You're literally one of the problems
Gojo: Ouch
Gojo: And here I thought we had something special
Gojo: What happened to seven years of courtship?
You: I'm going back to sleep
You: Goodnight Gojo
Gojo: See you tomorrow, sweetheart ;)
What the hell was that supposed to mean? What "common problem"? What "solution"? And why…. why…. did your stupid treacherous heart did a little skip at the word "sweetheart"
Your cat looked at you with an expression that clearly said, You're going to go, aren't you?
"I'm not," you told her.
She turned around and showed you her butthole. Which felt like appropriate commentary on the current state of your life.
THE PROPOSAL (NOT THAT KIND) - THE NEXT DAY
The cafe was, predictably, obnoxious.
You'd worn the only nice dress you owned that wasn't currently in the dirty laundry pile. Your hair cooperated for once, falling in waves instead of its usual "I stuck my finger in a socket" aesthetic.
You looked... good. The kind of good that made you paranoid about what the universe was planning to balance it out.
"You came," He stood when you walked in. Like a gentleman. Which was concerning, because Gojo Satoru was many things, but a gentleman was not on the list.
You slide into the booth across from him, immediately grabbing the menu like a shield. "Why am I here?"
"I told you I have a proposition"
Right.
The proposition.
The mysterious solution to your mysterious problem that was actually not that mysterious because your problem was very straightforward…. four men who wouldn’t take a hint and a family who thought arranged marriage was a totally normal thing to do in the year of our lord 2026.
You crossed your arms and waited. Because goddammit, you were curious.
“Fine,” you bit out. “Talk.”
Gojo’s smile went from playful to something predatory. The expression of someone who’d just gotten exactly what they wanted.
“So here’s the thing,” he said, settling back into the booth like he was about to deliver a TED talk on How To Ruin Your Life In Three Easy Steps. “You have a problem.
"Several, actually. You're one of them."
"Flattering." He took a sip. "Your problem is that your family is forcing you into an arranged marriage. He paused, eyes raking over you in a way that should’ve been offensive but instead made your stomach do a weird flip thing.
“Are you done?”
“I have a problem too. See, my family’s been on my ass about settling down. Find a nice girl… Produce some heirs…..Stop sleeping with the entire female population of Tokyo….” He didn’t look remotely ashamed. “They’ve been threatening to cut me off from certain business ventures if I don’t show commitment to my future.”
You snorted. “You? Settle down?
A waiter appeared from nowhere…. seriously, did they train these people like ninjas…. and poured champagne into crystal glasses.
He grinned, shameless. “Exactly. A man of my… appetites… being asked to commit? To one woman? Forever?” He shuddered dramatically. “Unthinkable.”
“So what do you want? A recommendation for a therapist? A dating app for commitment phobes?”
“Something better.” His eyes locked onto yours, and suddenly the playful mask dropped “You,”
You stared at him. He stared back.
Your brain was making a little BLEEP sound like something had gone fundamentally wrong and all your programs had crashed simultaneously.
“I’m sorry,” you said slowly, like you were testing each word before speaking it. “Could you repeat that?”
He leans forward, elbows on the table, chin resting on his interlaced fingers. “Let’s get engaged.”
You chocked
Champagne went down the wrong pipe and you spent a good thirty seconds coughing. "You… " cough "…. WHAT….” cough cough "….. are you FUCKING INSANE….."
"Fake engaged, obviously” he clarified, sliding you a napkin "I know I'm irresistible, but even I don't move that fast."
"That's….” you wiped your mouth, eyes watering, "…..that's the DUMBEST thing I've ever heard."
"Hear me out…”
"NO”
“what's your alternative?" He spread his hands. "Keep pretending? You're not exactly a master of deception.”
Ouch
You felt your cheeks heat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you don’t.” His smile was devastating in that way that had probably convinced many, many women to make many, many bad decisions.
(You were not going to be one of those women. You WEREN’T.)
“I did my research, you know,” he continued, pulling out his phone “After our first date.” He scrolled through something, smile widening. “Interesting Instagram you’ve got there.”
“You…. you STALKED me?” You glared at him and he had the audacity to wink
“2019 keg stand,” he continued, completely unbothered by your existential crisis. “Very impressive core strength, by the way. That Halloween party where you dressed as a sexy nun….. ironic, given recent events. Oh, and my personal favorite…”
He turned the phone to face you.
It was a photo from your friend’s bachelorette party you’d been to last year. You were wearing a tiara that said “PENIS QUEEN” in rhinestones (you were DRUNK) and holding a drink shaped like… well. Like a dick
You’d never wanted to die more in your entire life.
“Delete that,” you hissed.
“Hear me out first”
( This white haired motherfucker)
“This better be good”
“Think about it” He held up one finger like he was about to teach you basic math. "One: gets your family off your back.Two….” another finger, "… gets my family off my back."
"Three….” a third finger, he was really committed to this bit, "… makes those other three idiots back off because you're publicly TAKEN."
"And what happens after?" you asked. "When your family wants a wedding? Grandchildren? Matching his and hers bathrobes?"
"We break up." He waved a hand. "A year from now, maybe two. Enough time for both of us to get our shit sorted and establish enough independence that our families can't control us anymore."
"So what do you say?" He extended his hand across the table. "Partners in crime?"
This was a bad idea
The kind of idea that future you would look back on and go “what the FUCK were you thinking?”
You took his hand. "Fine. But we need rules and a contract or something because I don’t trust you.”
His eyes lit up. "I love rules. Specifically breaking them."
"No breaking these ones." You held up a finger, mimicking him. "One: No actual romantic feelings. This is a business proposal."
"Obviously."
"Two: We keep up appearances in public, but in private, we're just... roommates. Friends. Strangers. Whatever."
"Can friends cuddle?"
"Satoru."
"Fine, fine. Continue."
"Three:" You hesitated. "If either of us wants out…. No questions asked. No guilt trips."
"Deal," he said softly.
This was possibly the stupidest decision you'd made since that time you got bangs in college and looked like a medieval peasant for six months.
You shook his hand.
It was warm.
Why were his hands always so WARM? It was like shaking hands with a human furnace.
"So," he said, still holding your hand (why was he still holding it?), grin widening, "when should we tell our parents?"
Oh fuck.
Oh FUCK.
What had you just agreed to?
Two Days Later: The Phone Call That Destroyed Your Eardrums
You called your mother
Mistake number one.
“Hi mom, I have news…..”
“YOU’RE PREGNANT.”
“WHAT….. no….”
“Oh thank god because I’m not ready to be a grandmother, your father would have a heart attack…..”
“I’m not PREGNANT……”
“Then what?”
“I’m getting engaged.”
Silence.
You checked your phone to make sure the call hadn’t dropped.
“Mom?”
“To who.”
“Gojo Satoru?”
The scream that came through the phone sounded like a banshee getting exorcised . You had to hold the phone away from your ear. Your neighbours probably heard it.
“SATORU GOJO? THE GOJO HEIR? THE… OH MY GOD…. OH MY GOD I NEED TO SIT DOWN…”
Muffled sounds of your father in the background going “what? what happened? is she pregnant?”
“SHE’S GETTING ENGAGED TO A GOJO…. “
More muffled sounds of your father going “holy shit.”
Your father never swore.
“Mom I have to….”
“….I NEED TO CALL EVERYONE… YOUR AUNT….YOUR GRANDMOTHER… OH MY GOD YOUR AUNT IS GOING TO SHIT HERSELF…. SHE’S GOING TO ACTUALLY DIE…”
Click.
She hung up.
Probably to call every single person she’d ever met in her entire life to brag about how her disaster daughter had somehow landed a Gojo.
~~~
Gojo showed up at your apartment one evening without warning.
You opened the door in your rattiest sweatpants and a shirt that said “LETS FUCK” that you’d gotten as a gag gift three years ago and never stopped wearing because it was comfortable
“Nice shirt,” he said, walking past you into your apartment like he LIVED there.
“You can’t just….did I invite you?”
“Nope.” He looked around your apartment“Cozy.”
“It’s a mess.”
“Same thing.” He spotted Dumpling…ypur cat… on the couch and immediately went over to her. “And who’s THIS?”
“That’s Dumpling. Don’t touch her, she hates people….”
Dumpling immediately rolled over and started purring as Gojo scratched under her chin.
This bitch
“She’s adorable,” Gojo said, now fully sitting on your couch, dumpling climbing into his lap like they were old friends. "You look beautiful, by the way."
"Don't flirt with me."
"Sweetheart, if we're getting engaged, I'm legally required to flirt with you. It's in the contract."
You stared at him. "You're joking."
"I never joke about legally binding documents." He pulled out his phone, scrolling. "Clause one: neither party shall develop genuine romantic feelings for the other…"
You snatched the phone, scanning the document
"Clause seven: both parties agree to attend a minimum of four public events together per month?"
"Gotta make it believable."
"Clause twelve: any physical contact shall be limited to hand holding and brief embraces unless mutually agreed upon in advance?"
"I'm a gentleman."
You handed the phone back. Satoru's hand found yours, fingers intertwining with yours…making your breath catch.
"For practice," he murmured.
"Right. Practice."
He stood, stretching like a cat. "Anyway. I should go.”
He grabbed his jacket from where he'd thrown it. At the door, he paused and turned back.
"Thanks," he said quietly. "For everything”
The sincerity caught you off guard. You weren't used to this version of Gojo… soft, vulnerable
"See you tomorrow, Mrs Gojo."
Clause one: neither party shall develop genuine romantic feelings for the other.
Right.
Sure.
No problem at all.
At the same time
SUKUNA RYOMEN - 4:47 AM
Sukuna hasn't slept properly in days. He sits in his office….the one at his home, surrounded by reports and contracts
But for once, the paperwork wasn't holding his attention.
He picked up his phone, scrolling through the messages he hadn't sent. Draft after draft, deleted before completion.
You're not what you pretend to be.
Too direct.
I know what you're doing.
Too threatening.
Have dinner with me.
Too... desperate.
Sukuna set the phone down. He didn't do desperate. He didn't chase. People came to him, not the other way around.
But there you were…. with flushed cheeks and wild eyes, and he'd felt something crack in his chest. Something he'd thought was long dead.
NANAMI KENTO - 5:30 AM
Nanami was already awake when his alarm went off.
He'd been awake for hours, actually, staring at his ceiling and replaying every interaction he'd had with you.
His colleagues would laugh if they knew. Nanami Kento, the man who could spot a lying witness from across a courtroom, completely undone by a woman pretending to be interested in him.
But you weren't a schemer. You were a mes.
An adorable mess
His phone buzzed. A calendar reminder.
Thursday meeting - Father's firm - 3 PM
Right. He had actual work to focus on. Actual responsibilities.
But as he rose to begin his morning routine, Nanami found himself wondering what you looked like when you first woke up. Whether you were a morning person or if you emerged from sleep like a grumpy cat, all squinted eyes and defensive hissing.
He suspected the latter.
The thought made him smile.
TOJI FUSHIGURO - 6:15 AM
Toji hadn't gone home.
Home was a concept that didn't really apply to him anyway… just a series of apartments and hotels and occasionally the backseat of his car when things got complicated. Last night had been an underground poker game, where he'd won enough to keep his credit card company from sending another passive aggressive letter.
But he hadn't been able to focus on the cards.
That was new.
Toji had excellent focus. It's what made him good at the things he was good at… fighting, gambling, pissing off his family. Distractions were weaknesses, and he didn't do weak.
But there you were, stuck in his head like a song he couldn't shake.
He laughed, alone in the early morning streets, drawing concerned looks from a passing men.
The giant stuffed cat you’d clutched to your chest on the back of his motorcycle, pressing against him like it was the only thing keeping you tethered to the earth?
Toji had dated plenty of women. Beautiful women, smart women, dangerous women. Women who knew exactly what they wanted and how to get it.
You were none of those things.
You were a disaster
And he wanted you anyway.
That probably said something unflattering about his psychology, but fuck it. He'd never claimed to be sane
~~~
The next week was a blur of dress fittings and dinner reservations and pretending to be in love with a man whose primary personality trait was being insufferable.
Actually, that wasn't fair. Gojo was... more than that. You were starting to realize it in small ways. The way he checked in on you when you looked tired. The way he ran interference when his family got too pushy. The way he made you laugh… when the stress felt like it was going to crush you.
"You're thinking too hard," Gojo said one evening. He was lounging on your couch. He had been doing that a lot lately, showing up unannounced with snacks and excuses about "keeping up appearances"
"Your eyebrows are doing that thing." He poked the space between your brows. "Stop that. You'll get wrinkles."
Your phone buzzed. You reached for it automatically, then froze when you saw the name.
It was Sukuna's assistant, requesting a meeting
"What?” he notices immediately when your face drops.
"Nothing."
"That's your 'something bad is happening' face. What is it?"
You hand him the phone wordlessly. He reads, his expression darkening.
"Block him."
"What?"
"Block him." He hands the phone back. "Block all of them. You don't have to deal with this anymore. That's the whole point of the engagement."
He's right. You go to your contacts, thumb hovering over Sukuna's name.
Then Nanami's.
Then…
Toji.
You opened his chat and froze.
There's a photo there that you'd forgotten about. From the arcade. You're holding that ridiculous giant cat plushie and he's standing next to you, and he's smiling. Not that cocky grin he usually wears. A genuine.. soft smile
"What's wrong?" Gojo's voice is closer now. He's moved from the couch to stand behind you, looking over your shoulder.
"Nothing." You close the chat quickly.
"Awe, You're blushing."
"I am NOT."
He reaches past you and taps the screen, pulling up Toji's contact. "You should block him too."
"I will."
"Now?"
"I…." Your thumb hovers. "I will."
Gojo sighs, but there's something careful in the sound. "You don't have to, you know."
"I know."
"If you want to talk to him…”
"I don't."
You block Sukuna. Block Nanami.
And then you close the app before your thumb can make a decision about Toji that your brain hasn't approved.
"Done," you say, and if your voice is a little too bright, Gojo has the grace not to mention it.
“You like him," he says.
"I don't…”
"It's fine." He stands abruptly, moving to the window. His back is to you, shoulders tight under his expensive shirt. "If you want to see him..”
"I don't want to see him." You sit up, frustrated. "I don't want to see any of them. That's the whole point."
"Then why didn't you block him?"
You look at your phone. At the chat with Toji, still open. At the photo.
"I don't know," you admit
Gojo turns. His face blank… but something in his eye…. Something that looked almost like hurt before it vanished behind a smile.
"Well," he says, "when you figure it out, let me know."
He grabs his jacket.
"Wait…. where are you going?"
"Home." He doesnt look at you. "We've rehearsed enough for tonight."
"Satoru…."
The door closes behind him.
That night, alone in your apartment, you let yourself think about what you were doing.
Gojo made sense. On paper, in practice, in every logical way. He was safe because he was temporary. He was easy because neither of you wanted more.
But Toji...
Toji was different. Toji made your pulse race and your palms sweat and your brain short circuit in ways that were decidedly inconvenient.
You couldn't afford inconvenient. Not now. Not when everything was finally falling into place.
So you texted Gojo instead.
You: are we doing the right thing?
Gojo: What's wrong?
You: I don't know. that's why I'm asking.
A pause.
Gojo: I think we're doing the survivable thing. Sometimes that's all you can do.
You stared at the message for a long time.
Gojo: also I ordered us pizza because I know you haven't eaten since that sad croissant this morning. It'll be there in 20.
You: how do you know about the croissant
Gojo: I know everything.
You: you're very annoying
Gojo: Eat the pizza. That's an order from your future fake husband.
You laughed despite yourself. It bubbled up, unexpected and warm, filling the quiet of your apartment.
Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.
Maybe, with Gojo by your side, you could actually survive this.
The pizza arrived eighteen minutes later. You ate the whole thing, didn't think about Toji once (okay, maybe twice), and went to bed feeling something dangerously close to hope.
You are getting fake engaged to a man. The three other men are going to kill your fake fiancée, once they find out.Your mother is losing her mind
And somewhere in all of this, you think you might actually have feelings for someone.
You just don't know who.
Fuck.
Rule one, you reminded yourself as you drifted off. No feelings.
To be continued
Your Reblogs and comments are appreciated 🫶🏻✨
A/n : This is a bit rushed and not proofread. I'm sorry if it wasn't what y'all were expecting ♥︎
☆ summary : leon finds.. you. in a cage during that whole mess at victor gideon’s center. he thinks you’re a victim of something weird and perverted until he realizes oh—no! that’s.. those are your ears not a headband! that’s your tail! not a butt plug! communication is not going great and unfortunately for you, this is the first man you’ve ever seen look like that. baby’s first crush?
☆ caution : captivity, abuse/conditioning, power imbalance, non-human traits (ears/tail), reader is a hybrid! surprise! also, reader is younger than leon, early to mid twenties. aaaand fem!reader.
☆ note : hi! i haven't posted in a while, i’m sorry! work has been crazy!
victor gideon—you could say he was your handler. owner. master. the verbiage doesn’t matter, but it’s important to know that he was the man responsible for your very being. everything that you are has been shaped within the boundaries he’s decided on. you have no concept of religion, no understanding of worship or faith. but if someone were to explain it to you, victor gideon may be the closest thing to a god in your eyes. above everything else, unquestioned and the source of consequence and comfort.
victor is a cruel, cruel man but, he never really believed in wasting his energy in unnecessary displays of these grandiose schemes. he thinks it's tacky—there’s a difference between completing a task and making gross display of it. but that’s what makes victor gideon so hard to understand on the outside, because he’s polite. a gentleman, even. and at some point perception starts to blur and blend making it look like care.
because he fed you. regularly at that. they’re meals that came at the same times everyday. breakfast, lunch and dinner, in the same portions and adjusted when necessary without you having to ask. you learned quickly that hunger wasn’t something you had to worry about—as long as you stayed within the lines he set. in other words, when you’re good. and it’s not like you’re disobedient by nature or you purposefully do things you aren’t supposed to do. it’s honest mistakes, small mistakes. but little ones are still mistakes nonetheless, aren’t they?
because he clothed you. nothing fancy but it was always practical. things that fit you well, kept you warm and helped him in handling easier, move you, manage you. of course, you never had a say in what you ever wore but he did notice you taking a liking to what you now know as your favorite color. so, you do have more pieces in that shade than you do anything else.
because he bathed you. at first because you didn’t know how then later because he didn’t trust you to do it properly. it became routine—just like a clinical, detached in that way. it was never sexual either, at least.. it doesn't feel that way (again, you really have no concept of sexualization or perversion). it was simply just maintenance: something that had to be done to keep you functioning the way you were supposed to.
and because he taught you. this is the part of his influence that lingers the most, and may actually be the first thing that someone would notice if they managed to have a conversation with you. his lessons on english started simple at first, then things got a bit harder, and your repeated everything until they stuck. he corrected you when you got something wrong, rewarded you when you didn’t. but it wasn’t just language. it was behavior. expectation. understanding the way the world worked, or at least the version of it he allowed you to see.
“people are dangerous, (name). unpredictable. selfish. sick.”
he would tell you that, not always in those exact words but in the same way that built the same idea. he reinforced it with examples, with his tone, with the way he positioned himself in contrast to everything else.
so of course after fear mongering, he would feed you something extra nice and warm to fill your belly or perform something similar to an act of service for you (for example, he liked to fix your hair, otherwise it becomes a mess). or even correct you in a way that didn’t hurt as much as it could have. and the message would settle where it was meant to:
he is the exception. the only one who doesn’t want to harm you. the only one who understands you. the only one who provides.
victor gideon wouldn’t ever break the pattern—your pattern. the routine you’ve come to know as your life. and yet for the first time, the rhythm breaks.
you haven’t seen him for hours so you assume he’s busy.
so, you do what you’ve always done when something doesn’t make sense. you stay still and you wait because waiting has always kept you safe.
but footsteps that don’t belong to him move through the hallways. a different scent. a different voice registers.. mm. it doesn’t make sense.
you wait for things to correct on their own but.. it doesn’t. and time stretches in an unfamiliar way without you fully understanding why you feel so.. unsettled. perhaps it’s a bit of separation anxiety or maybe you’re picking up on a shift in the air.
the footsteps comes closer, then the sound pauses like whoever it belongs to is.. adjusting? is that the right word? it feels like whoever it is, is cautious. and that alone is enough to make something in your chest tighten because there’s no place to put it. no rule to apply. no outcome you’ve been prepared for.
by the time it reaches the door, your body has already reacted; shoulders pulled in tighter, your tail curls closer around you, your ears press back. you don’t think through any of it, you just brace for whatever.
the handle moves, not suddenly but definitely not in a way anyone else would notice—it lacks the confidence you’re used to. there’s a difference in the timing, in the pressure, in the certainty of the motion. victor was always certain. this hesitates where it shouldn’t and shifts where it should be smooth followed by a quiet greeting of ”hello darling.” or “how are you, little one?”
the door opens anyway, the shape that fills the doorway doesn’t align with anything you’ve been taught to expect. the presence is foreign and there’s no hesitation in how your mind processes it, no pause to question or reassess.
it categorizes immediately. not him. which means—not safe.
leon doesn’t move right away when he pushes the door open.
for a second, it’s just assessment—distance, layout, exits— but all that collapses almost immediately when he mentally hiccups. the cage. that’s the first thing that he processed and then, there’s you.
young. folded into the space like you’ve been shaped to fit it. not fighting it—just existing inside it. he doesn’t know, but it seems like it’s clear as day this isn’t new for you.
his jaw tightens.
“jesus,” he mutters under his breath, the word slipping out before he can filter it. his gaze flicks over you again, slower this time to catch on the details. the ears. the tail. for a brief second, his brain tries to file it somewhere explainable. and it lands in a sick place. something ugly, but a conclusion built on what he’s seen people do before.
“perverted bastard..” he murmurs, more to himself than anything else, the words laced with quiet disgust as his attention shifts back toward the cage, toward you and the way you’re watching him.
the comm in his ear crackles softly. “leon?” sherry’s voice cuts through, low but alert. “you stopped moving. what’s going on?”
his eyes don’t leave you. “..i found someone,” he says after a beat, voice quieter than usual. there’s a pause on the other end—brief, but enough to register surprise. he adds, more specific this time, “there’s a girl. locked up.”
another pause. “is she—”
“i don’t know yet,” he cuts in, already stepping closer as his attention stays fixed on you, tracking every small reaction. “stand by.”
he lowers himself slightly as he gets within a few feet of the cage, not close enough to crowd you, but not distant either. enough that you can see him clearly. and.. up close, the details don’t resolve the way he expected them to.
leon is.. confused. yeah, confused.
because the ears don’t sit like.. a headband would. there’s no seam, no break in the line where they meet you. they move—subtle, reactive, flattening tighter against your head as he shifts, responding to him.
his gaze drops, just briefly, to the tail. and its the same thing. its not attached to you. it is you.
there’s a moment where his expression stills completely, the realization settling in without fanfare or comment. he doesn’t want to be rude. but whatever assumption he made a second ago dissolves just as quickly as it formed, replaced with a new feeling. something similar to finding out the gayest person you’ve ever met is straight.
“..okay,” he exhales under his breath, more to himself than anyone else. he doesn’t linger on it. doesn’t question it out loud because whatever you are— or whatever was done to you—it doesn’t change the situation.
you’re still in a cage.
you’re still looking at him like he’s the worst possible outcome.
“hey,” he says, voice dropping again, softer now. its definitely not the tone he uses in the field. “you understand me?”
you don’t answer but your eyes stay on him, tracking every movement like you’re waiting for something to go wrong.
“alright,” he murmurs, not pushing it, because clearly.. you’re scared of him. “that’s okay.” there’s a pause, just long enough to let the space settle again before he tries something else.
“i’m gonna get you out of there,” he continues, “you don’t have to—” he stops himself, “..you don’t have to do anything right now. just stay there, okay?”
not that you could do much else.
you don’t respond to that either. not verbally at least. but something in your posture shifts. not enough to call it movement, but you are less rigid than before.nyour gaze flickers over him again and there’s something there that doesn’t fit with the fear.
confusion, maybe. or curiosity. something softer that doesn’t have a place to settle, caught between everything you’ve been taught and everything you’re seeing.
because he doesn’t match what you expected.
he doesn’t move like a threat. doesn’t sound like one. doesn’t look like anything you’ve been told to fear in the way you understand it.
and more than that—he’s different.
there’s no comparison for it or framework to put it in. you’ve seen one man your entire life, learned the shape of him, the way he exists in a space. this one doesn’t match.
his face.. his body. something about the way he holds himself, the way he looks at you. not through you, not around you, but at you. it doesn’t align with anything you know how to interpret.
it catches and lingers longer than it should. and somewhere underneath all these big emotions—
you think he’s… nice to look at.
you don’t have a better word for it.
and you don’t have the context to understand why your attention keeps drifting back to his face, to the way his expression shifts when he looks at you, to the steadiness in his voice when he speaks again.
you just know it doesn’t feel the same as looking at victor and that alone is enough to make your belly flutter in a completely different way.
“i’m leon, by the way.” he says, he’s a few feet away now looking for something—a key maybe.
⋆ ｡ ˚ ⋆ ⸺ surviving raccoon city together, you catch the affections of leon kennedy, ada wong, jill valentine, and carlos oliveira. six years later, you reunite with them and realize their obsession with you has increased tenfold.
+𝟏𝟖 ᢉ𐭩 currently rewatching 'ex on the beach' and I can't stop thinking about ex!bf!Caleb
ex!bf!Caleb who swoops out of the sea like a fucking greek god. his skin glistening beneath the harsh afternoon sun - his sculpted abs flexing, dripping in sinful droplets of salty seawater as he buries his feet into the sand, grounding his massive body to the land. his pretty, purplish eyes eagerly looking around the beach, desperately - no, yearningly waiting to feast upon your perfect, heavenly figure. and when he does? shit, he almost wags his, inexistent, tail for you - just for you.
a perfect, angelic smile blossoms over his full, plump lips. his hands shaking, his heart thumping like a relentless drum inside its bony cage, as he watches you shyly walk towards him. "shit," he curses, once your body is finally within his reach. his huge, massive arm wraps around the small of your back. effortlessly forcing you off the ground, guiding you straight into his lean, wet body.
his hands linger over your curves. his fingers flexed, arched into the plush flesh of your hips. "fuck, hi pips" caleb softly murmurs, inches away from your tender flesh, as his head dips into the crook of your neck. hiding, beneath a faint, chaste string of neck kisses, a triumphant smile as he feels your body helplessly tremble against his. "'m here," his long, slender fingers draw little, careful circles above your light bikini's bottoms. allowing you to melt into his knowing touch. "'m not going anywhere, baby" his breathing warm, dense - nostalgic over your weak flesh. "cling onto me, harder. that's is, 'm here"
ex!bf!Caleb who can't stop his gaze from seething as he watches you walk back to villa. his blood boiling, his heart breaking as he's forced, by stupid, trashy TV rules to fucking abandon you - again - to go an a meaningless date with a girl he couldn't care less about.
ex!bf!Caleb who can't wait to come back to you.
ex!bf!Caleb who follows you around like the most obedient of puppies, as you show him around the majestic villa. nodding along as you speak, even though his mind is completely unfocused, gauzy as your barley covered ass, swings from side to side, docilely following the way you strut.
his big, smooth hands tenderly resting over your thighs. cradling and lightly tracing sweet, intricate pattern over your delicate flesh, as you point to your little bed. he hums into your skin, bullying your back closer, deeper into his sculpted torso. "oh yeah, right there?" he taunts you, using that specific tone that makes your poor pussy almost drool. "seems so small baby," he croons into your ear. his hands like an omniscient presence over your tensed body. "d'you think I'll fit in?" you almost whine at his nasty, pornographic allusion.
ex!bf!Caleb who can't keep his hands to himself. stealing hungry, needy touches every time he has the chance. his fingers lingering over yours as you pass him a glass of water. his hands on your lower back as he introduces himself to all the other participants. guiding your leg to gently rest over his, carefully marking his territory, as you cheerfully chat away with the girls.
loathing, and missing your presence especially during dinner. when he has you perfectly seated in front of him - growing hungrier and needier at every slight, little glance he steals in your direction.
using his fallen fork as an excuse, he slyly lowers himself under the table. his fingers slowly clasping around your ankle, leading your leg to faintly rest on him - needing even the feeblest of contacts, now more than ever. he buries his hands beneath the colourful tablecloth, massaging your tender flesh in between his digits. letting you, once again, melt into his comforting touch.
in a moment of pure panic, he gasps. his eyes dripping in heavy, desperate questions as he feels your foot slowly draw teasing, sloppy circles over his clothed dick. "baby . . please" he mouths in your direction. his mushroom tip already leaking - profusely sobbing candied, syrupy pre-cum tears, as he watches your bottom lip glide in between the pearly shine of your teeth. you smile, discreetly shaking your head at him. "stay," you mouth back. "wanna feel you"
ex!bf!Caleb who swears he could just commit a murder on world-wide television. his hands closed into two tight fists, as he watches you recreate your favourite sex position with a silver haired guy, who seems to be looking at you a little too adoringly for caleb's personal liking.
he plays along all night. letting hefty, heavy truths spill from his lips at every question and precisely acting out every dare thrown in his direction. patiently waiting, desperately yearning for the moment he could finally steal you away.
ex!bf!Caleb who almost creams his pants, as the off cameras producer's robotic voice announces: "as the newest guest, tonight you hold all the power. the 'love room' is all yours for the night. take your time and choose wisely, 'cause the night is young and there are no limits"
ex!bf!Caleb who wastes no goddam time. entwining your small fingers with his, as he helps you to your feet. letting you lead the way to your private suit for the night.
ex!bf!Caleb who allows you to have your fun with him - teasing both his body and his mind. letting you talk your shit as he attentively watches you from the bed. his hands sprawled under his head, steadying his body to the headboard. the feeble, tender light of the candles dancing all over his body, making his muscles appear even stronger, beefier than before.
"augh, fuck baby" he voicelessly moans into the air. his eyes slamming shut, his head heavily thrown back as the light leather of the of the whip, you hold, faintly traces the prominent outline of his muscular pecs. you let the whip freely wander over his torso - enchanted by the way his body reacts to you. "closer. come to me" his big hand cups the back of your thigh, effortlessly helping you to throw your leg over his hips - finally taking your place upon his lap. "missed this," he mumbled distractedly, letting his hands shamelessly run all over your body. "missed you, pips" his fingers slip inside the faint, lacy hem of your panties. making you gasp and shudder, as he strangles the plush flesh of your ass in between his desiring hold. "fuckin' missed us"
your forearms gently rest over his pecs. your tummies heavily squished together as your breathings aligned with one another. his fingers like droplets of rain over your back - sultry grazing and gliding right over your spine, forcing your flesh to erupt into shuddering chills. "'m sorry" he murmured - his lips merely inches away from yours. "for what?" nuzzling your face closer to his, you desperately cling to his body. marking, clawing your desperation into his exposed flesh. "for how long it took me to find my way back to you" he confessed, tangling his fingers over your chin. softly bringing your lips to his, in heated, teeth clashing kiss.
ex!bf!Caleb who begs you to: "shit, baby please fuck — slow down. need to cover us up — please augh! don't want them to see you. pips, 'm begging you, let me — nngh, fuckfuck —" when you first started to dry hump his aching, throbbing cock.
ex!bf!Caleb who, that night, basically films an endless amateur porn with you.
ex!bf!Caleb who lets you grind your sopping, drenched folds over his dick till your legs cramps up. your sweaty, damp body glistening under his hungry gaze. the puffy, fluffy covers restricting the already slim place, forcing your quivering body to rely on his at every needy roll of your hips. "no, no. c'mon, look at me," he demands, pushing his pelvis to yours, as he watches your lusting eyes roll in the back of your skull. "need you to look, focus on me. nothing else matters, just me, under you — fuckin' please baby, look at me"
ex!bf!Caleb who pushes you onto your back, slipping in between your parted legs. his back arched, flexing, as he dips his hand lower - slowly descending over your body. he gasps, following the heavy pattern of your laboured breathing, the moment his index finger slide inside your desperate cunt. his eyes needy, in frenetic search for yours, as he pumps his long, slender finger in and out of you. "talk to me," he begs. nuzzling his nose to your cheek, urging you finally meet his gaze. "tell me you're okay — fuck, tell me anything" shyly, caleb adds another finger. mimicking the way your lips drift apart, as the pleasure only intensify within the heat of your lower tummy. "guide me. you're in charge, fuckin' remind me what makes you lose your mind"
ex!bf!Caleb who suks his initial into your neck, right over your thumping heartbeat, claiming you - prying you away from anyone else.
ex!bf!Caleb whose tongue almost fucks you as rough as his fat cock. his tongue lapping - eager against the candied mounds of your pussy. soft, controlled movements as his hands pry your legs further apart, guiding them to lay over his broad shoulders. "open, need you open" his teeth like the meanest of bullies over your hard, swollen clit. biting, rolling and sucking the little bundle of nerves deeper, rougher into the depth of his mouth. "it's okay, I've got you. shake, tremble — holy shit, fuckin' scream — I can take everything. let go, cum f'me" he spits on your cunt, his drool blending right into you - like it fucking belonged there. your hands buried in his chocolate hair, almost collaring him - pacing his moments - holding on for dear life as he dips his head lower, diving back in like a starved, egoistic man.
ex!bf!Caleb who folds your legs over your chest. his dog tag sinfully dangling in front of your dizzy, foggy gaze. his mushroom, leaky tip grinding all over your drenched pussy - viciously slapping against the round, puffy entrance of your sex every time you impatiently whimper for him to hurry. "d'you want to feel it? — uh fuuck, you can tell me how you feel baby"
"fuuuck, you're mine" he pushes inside. slowly gifting you every inch of his length, as his fat girth forcefully stretches your gummy walls open. your hips buck upwards, urgently trying to meet his sloppy thrusts halfway. "good girl, take whatever you want from me — shitshit! — 'm yours, just yours, forever" his mouth latched onto yours. his tongue nasty, angry against yours - demanding submission.
his body moved like the filthiest of fantasy above yours. his hips almost dancing, slowly rolling and pushing deeper inside of you. his thrusts insatiable. his movements erratic, vigorous, fucking relentless.
his tip brushed against your spongy cervix, making you sob uncontrollably beneath him. "there you are," he cooed. slowing his pace down to let you bathe in the drowsiness of his impossible depth. "no more hidin' — fuuck, uh-uh — let me hit that spot again, mh there you gooo" his hands on your body. pushing you - guiding you deeper into the mattress. "shit baby — let me claim you. let me fucking ruin you for anyone else — fuckmhfuck, anyone else but me"
pov: you confront ohyul, it doesn’t go as you expected.
𝜗౿ dark romance, obsessed!ohyul x f!reader, use of y/n, 2.1k words, crying sobbing throwing up literally, tw, hint of submissive!ohyul
tag list @somswib @whitelittlecinnamon @maddybuckets @wintericysnow @stanlngshot4sho @rickyshensgirlfriend @vvidka @kurafairy @yatta-exe
credit for top divider !! @cursed-carmine
PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5
mondays, how insufferable.
“is louis still avoiding you?” yunjin asked as she sat next to you. you nodded, resting your head in your hands. the loud conversations and laughter of your classmates become unheard as you talked to your best friends.
“we always leave at the same time, usually to say goodbye and wish each other a good day. i go out and his dad is already driving away.” you sigh, making yoonchae frown.
“that’s so weird. i’m assuming you haven’t been able to reach him?”
you nod, confirming their suspicions. “he’s avoiding me like the plague. also, his mom came out while i was waiting for my mom and she asked if me and louis were okay. i was like ‘what do you mean?’ and she said that he’s been locked inside his room since friday afternoon ever since my boyfriend went to talk to him.”
“your boyfriend?” yunjin asked, face scrunched up in confusion.
“girl, ohyul. remember how i told yall that he went over to louis’s place after dropping me off.”
yoonchae gasped as yunjin’s jaw dropped. “right!! oh my god he is so getting his ass beat. louis is so cute and innocent and sweet!” yunjin said. yoonchae dropped her head into her hands. “god, i feel so guilty.”
“it’s not like we knew what that lunatic was gonna do. are you going to confront him?” yunjin asked, rubbing yoonchae’s back before turning to you.
“oh i am, but im scared to do it alone.”
“we’ll go with you.” yoonchae suggested.
“no, it needs to be one on one. could you guys be on the sidelines just incase?” you asked, a pout forming on your lips to convince them.
“fine, i guess we can do that. i can also ask ryul to come, for male protection.” yoonchae said with a tiny smirk.
“ryul? i thought you were over him?”
yoonchae smirked, a sheepish look on her face. “he might’ve called me last night? he apologized and we have a date after school.” yunjin squealed in excitement for her best friend, making you turn to her.
“you’re so fake, you literally said last week that you hoped he tripped and chipped his tooth.” you laughed, pointing at a offended yunjin.
“that was before he apologized.”
“okay class, settle down!” the teacher shouted out, making the trio calm down as they fixed their eyes to the front of the classroom.
after a couple of classes, you sat with yoonchae, yunjin and ryul in the courtyard. you’ve avoided ohyul all day. doing your best to not make eye contact and pretending to not even notice that he was there.
even when he was playing with your hair while he sat behind you in class.
“how to i even start the conversation?” you grumble, already annoyed. “hmm, oh i know. ‘ohyul, spill the beans or ill turn you into beans’.” ryul said before bursting out laughing.
the 3 girls started at him blankly, making him cough awkwardly. “tough crowd.”
“i’m being serious, how do i bring up the fact that he threatened a kid?”
“so.. he’s obsessed with you and made your 15 year old neighbor scared of you because of something he said?” ryul asked, making yoonchae sigh.
“yes ryul, i already told you this. keep up.” ryul raised his hands, defeated. “i say smack him.” yunjin nodded to herself, like if she came up with a bright idea.
“i am not putting my hands on him.”
ryul and yunjin shared a look, making yoonchae roll her eyes at their childish tactics. “he could harm her if she hits him.”
“right.. forgot he was crazy for a minute.”
“oh, he’s right there. shit, he’s staring at us.” yoonchae mumbled, looking at you with a panicked look.
you sigh, peeking over your shoulder and sure enough, ohyul was staring directly at you. you quickly look away, “okay, remember the plan?”
“follow close behind but not too close to the point that he could possibly see us and hear us. you’re gonna take him behind the school building where the shed is. we’ll be behind the shed while you make sure that ohyul’s back is facing us at all times.” yunjin confirmed.
you sigh, “gosh we’re acting like this is life or death.”
“feels like it, my hearts almost beating out of my chest.” ryul chuckled. you bite back a smile before standing up, “okay, avengers please assemble and don’t leave me alone with him.” you say before walking towards ohyul.
“noona, what are you doing with him?” is the first thing out of his mouth. you look over your shoulder at your friends, “with ryul?”
he nods, his expression clearly annoyed.
“he’s yoonchae’s.. man, i think.”
ohyul nods, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “oh okay, uhm.. we haven’t talked all day. are you avoiding me, or something?”
you press your lips together, “we need to talk.” you can tell by his shoulders that he tensed up, “about what?” he asked.
“not here, somewhere more private.” he nods, quickly following right behind you as you lead him around the building to the back of the school.
you turn to face him, making sure that he was faced away from the shed. you can see your friends take their hiding positions, quickly throwing a thumbs up at you.
“i’m not stupid, ohyul.” you mumbled, crossing your arms.
ohyul nodded like an obedient child, a small smile on his lips. “of course you’re not, noona.”
you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose.
jesus christ, he’s down bad.
“that’s not what i meant,” you begin. “i know you’re the reason louis stopped talking to me.”
you watched the way his smile slowly faded, before shaking his head. “n-no? you must be confused—”
“cut the shit ohyul!” you said loudly, making him flinch slightly. he’s never heard you shout, much less seen you mad. his bottom lip wobbled at the fact that you yelled at him.
“i’m not stupid! what did you say to a 15 year old that he’s so scared to even see me?”
he shook his head, “i-i didn’t.. noona, p-please believe me—”
“ohyul, i will smack you if you don’t start telling me the truth. i already know half of the truth so stop denying it! yet you have the nerve to stand in front of me and deny it! not only today but yesterday as well when we were texting.”
ohyul shook his head, looking down as a tear rolled down his cheek. you gulped nervously, glancing at your friends who put thumbs up.
you couldn’t stop now, you’ve already made him cry. wait, why do you feel bad? he’s the weirdo here.
“i can’t be friends with you if you’re going to be hurting other people, with your words or physically.”
ohyul quickly looked up, an expression of terror taking over his features. “w-what? no, no no no! noona, i-i’m sorry, okay? i-i thought i was helping you!” he finally broke down, falling to his knees in front of you.
you look down at him with wide eyes, “what are you doing—”
he wrapped his arms around your legs, resting his cheek against your thigh. “i’m sorry, please forgive me. i thought i was helping, i swear!”
you pat his head, running your fingers through his dark hair. he whimpers, hugging you tighter. you glance at your friends, who have a weirded out look.
you can’t blame them. you bite back a laugh as ryul stared with a hand over his mouth.
you take a deep breath, preparing yourself. “what did you tell louis?”
he looked up, licking his dry lips, a nervous habit. “hm?”
“ohyul,” you began, squatting down to be face to face with him. “what did you tell louis? if you give me a bullshit answer, i’ll make sure you never see me again.”
ohyul shook his head quickly, “no.. i—” he swallowed, his hands resting on your knees now. “i said.. i-i told him that i’d hurt him, if he bothered you again.”
he let out a shaky breath as he saw your eyes narrowing. “what do you mean hurt him?”
“i said.. i-i’d get a couple of guys to beat him, and his family. that i could hurt him without having to touch him. h-he got so scared, he promised to leave you alone. b-but i thought that’s what you wanted! i swear, i-i thought i was being good for you, noona.” he said, breathing heavily as he watched your blank face.
you looked away from him, staring down at the ground quietly for a couple minutes before standing up and taking a couple steps back.
ohyul looked up, worried and afraid. “n-noona?”
“we’re not friends anymore.” you whispered, staring down at him with a hint of disgust. his face dropped, quickly standing up. “no, no no please! i-i’ll apologize, i’ll take it back. i’ll never speak to him again but please, please im begging you!” he shouted.
you raise your hand, making him stop all of his movements. “we. are. done. i don’t know if i have to write it down for you, but i never want to speak to you again. do i make myself clear?”
“d-don’t do this, baby please. i’ll be better!” he pleaded, pressing his hands together as he looked at you with a brokenhearted expression.
“i’m sorry, but no.” you say like it’s final. ohyul stared, face falling. you turn away from him, beginning to walk away.
suddenly, a sharp gasp escaped your lips as your back gets slammed into the hard brick wall.
from the corner of your eye, you see ryul stand up quickly, getting ready to walk over but you raise a hand. ohyul notices, slowly looking over his shoulder but you quickly grab his chin before he could spot ryul and the girls.
he let out a soft ‘hmm’ as he felt your touch. his own shaky hand lifted up to hold your wrist gently, kissing your palm with a warm kiss. you gulped nervously, why is your stomach doing that? stop it!
you rub his cheek with your thumb, making his bottle lip tremble. “i’m sorry ohyul, but i think it’s for the better that we stay away from each other.”
he shook his head, shocking on a sob. “please.. i’ll apologize to him, i swear. y-you can come with me, just please don’t do this to me. d-don’t do this to me, i love you! i’m sorry.. please.” he broke down, beginning to sob as he laid his head on your shoulder.
you froze, your hands up in the air as you felt his hands snake around your waist. your wide eyes dart to your friends who stared in shock, their expressions matching yours.
your hands come down and landed on his back, where you began rubbing softly. he sniffled, his grip tightening around you.
“i’ll be better,” he whispered. “i know i have a problem, but i can’t help it. because it’s you. if i had to choose between getting better or having you, i’d rather be sick for the rest of my life.”
you swallow, “don’t say that.”
he said into your shoulder, “it’s true. you’re the first person to make me feel love, to make me feel like a person.”
“you’re not experiencing love, ohyul. you’re experiencing obsession. you may think it’s love, but it’s not.” you whispered, making him pull back to look at you, blankly.
swollen eyes, wet lips, tear covered cheeks, yet his face was blank. staring at you like he was contemplating something. “that’s not true,” he finally said. “it may seem that way to you, but i do love you. i love you more than anything in the world.”
the only thing you could do was stare, unaware of what to say or what to do. your throat clogged up, your own eyes getting teary. ohyul immediately noticed, his expression softening.
“you feel it too.”
“stop it.” you whisper.
“you don’t like it, you think i’m bad for you. you think im a bad person in general, but you can’t ignore the feeling you get in your gut when you see me.” ohyul mumbled, his hand coming up to push your hair away from your face.
“don’t do this.” you whisper, voice cracking slightly.
he stayed quiet, just watching you with a fixed gaze. “i’ll change if i have to, so you can love me freely without having people on your ass over me.”
you frowned, “what?”
“i’ll change, just for you. if that’s what it takes for you to love me back.”
pairing: ex!ohyul x black!f!reader x fwb!situationship!ryul
summary: ohyul and ryul were both bad in their own ways. ohyul treated you like an afterthought and is now trying to prove you still want him. ryul is clearly not ready for committing but gets irked at the idea of you spending time with anyone else. and you somehow keep running back to them.
wc: 5.9k words
warnings: angst, angst, angst, major hurt/little comfort, partial smut—mentions of sex, oral sex (f receiving)—some tension, ohyul yearns, they are both toxic if you think about it, reader is complicated but stands up for herself, lmk if i should add more
colly’s notes: i’m trying something different with this fic, idk if i’ll like it but anyways! this was loosely inspired by @ohyulism’s toxic ex!ohyul smau fic and i highly recommend you check that out but anyways, i really wanted to make over 6k words cause i only wanted it to be a 2-part series but i gave up but this will have a part 2 and most likely an alternate ending! also, sorry the banner quality is so bad, idk how to fix it 💔💔💔
and i realized that i never included ryul’s jealousy but that’s gonna be in the next part!
song recs: bad dream - soniccreations / little bit - lykke li / eyes don’t lie + heartbeat - isabel larosa
part two - part three/alternative ending
You can’t find your camisole.
Ryul had flung it somewhere across the room while you were both trying to get your clothes off but it seems he may have genuinely thrown it into the void. Now you’re practically half naked—having put on your underwear, at least—running around like a headless chicken while Ryul watches from your bed, amused.
“Looking for something?” He teases.
“Shut up. It’s your fault that I’m running around like this.” You grumble, checking under the bed for the umpteenth time. “And it was my favourite one too.”
You sigh again and give up, opening your closet to find an old shirt to sleep in. You find a tank top that you’re sure shrunk in the dryer but you don’t really care at this point. You tug it on as you walk towards your mirror.
Your eyes trail over the love bites Ryul left on your chest and those hidden by your tank top. You don’t think about the ones in between your thighs, your face heating at the memory. You push your hair back, trying to gather it into a ponytail. You can see Ryul in the back and the first thought that comes into your mind is how serene and laid-back he looks. Almost as if he belonged there. Like he never wanted to leave.
“So what’s up with you and Ohyul?”
You didn’t expect Ryul to ask that question, and certainly after you had just finished having sex.
You almost thought you didn’t hear him properly. He was just cleaning you up in your bathtub a couple of minutes ago and now he’s asking about your ex?
“What?”
“You and Ohyul. I know you dated but…”
You let out a small laugh. “Where is this coming from?”
“Can’t a man be curious?” He chuckled, bringing an arm behind his head to rest on the headboard.
You adjust your shirt, fixing the straps. “Does curiosity involve finding out the intricate details of my love life?”
“It couldn’t have been that bad.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“I guess I’ll be the judge of that.”
You chuckle, facing him and crossing your arms.
“If you must know, yes. We dated.”
You want it to end there. To have him drop it and you go back to your night routine. Ryul just looks at you and it took you a while to realize he wanted you to continue. You give him a small smirk.
“Are you always this nosy?”
“Only with people I like.”
You turn your head to hide your smile at his statement. “He was good, I guess. At least I thought he was. He made it clear where his priorities lay and I wasn’t one of them. I wasn’t interested in dealing with that so I broke up with him.”
He hums, out of pity or understanding, you don’t know. “I’m sorry about that.”
“It’s fine. You weren’t there.”
It’s easier this way.
It’s easier to act all unbothered and composed about it.
Like you didn’t spend days pushing and pushing at Ohyul to initiate dates, hang outs, even physical touch. That you didn’t pull out your hair wondering why he was being so distant with you. That he didn’t put everyone else above you and only remembered you existed occasionally. Like you didn’t spend nights crying in your bed, wondering if he was cheating on you or if he truly never loved you.
Part of you wishes he did. Maybe it would’ve given you a reason to hate him. It would've been easier to talk about it and not get evasive about the subject like you were now.
Sometimes, you wonder if Ohyul even remembers you exist. If he remembered that he had a girlfriend he neglected for months. You wonder if he’s punching the air right now, regretting that he ever let you go.
You don’t think so. But it doesn’t hurt to try.
“Hey.”
You don’t even realize that Ryul is standing in front of you until his fingers softly bring your chin up. His other hand comes up and gently taps your forehead. “Where did you go, pretty girl?”
You let out an embarrassed laugh, your cheeks warming at being caught and at the pet name. “Just thinking.”
“About what? Round 2?”
You hit his chest and he lets out a laugh, wrapping his arms around your hips to tug you closer. He sits on the edge of the bed and tugs you into his lap, his hands going to your waist and your hands threading through his hair. He stares at you, a soft look spreading through his eyes.
“What?” You softly ask, the moment getting weirdly intimate. “Something on my face?”
He chuckles and brings a hand up to caress your face, his thumb trailing across your lower lip. Before you realize it, you’re leaning in as Ryul closes the rest of the distance.
Kisses with Ryul post-sex were always soft and sensual. He kissed like he meant it, like he was trying to ground you and make you float at the same time. Your hand threads deeper in his hair, bringing him closer to you.
He breaks apart first, giving you a few extra pecks before smiling. “Nah. Just felt like doing that.”
You’re giddy now, your head falling on his shoulder. He falls back on your bed, bringing you with him. You adjust yourself so you’re laying on his chest, your ear to his heartbeat. One of his hands begins tracing patterns on your shoulder, another reminder of his quiet presence.
It’s strange how domestic this feels. How Ryul does everything a boyfriend should but refuses to put a label on it.
You weren’t stupid. You knew what you were getting into. Your breakup with Ohyul left you feeling lost, so you thought about fooling around. You had hook-ups here and there, and just when you were about to give up and move on like a normal person, Ryul showed up.
His steadfast presence, the way he could read your mind, the way he knew just what to say to make you feel better. But the reminder was above both your heads:
“I don’t do relationships.”
You blinked, as if he just announced he had two heads. “So… what, we’re just friends with benefits?”
“If that’s what you want to call it. I’m just fooling around now. I wanted to let you know so it’s not a shock. If that’s something you don’t feel comfortable with, let me know now. I’ll respect it.”
You thought it over for a moment, pretending his words didn’t sting more than they should’ve. Don’t fall for Ryul. How hard could that be?
Apparently, falling in love was the easiest thing in the world. You don’t even know how it happened, just that somewhere along the line, it had changed for you and you know that Ryul knows it too. It had taken you less than a month for you to realize that you wanted something more with him. But every time you wanted to say something, his words rang in your mind and you chickened out, opting to just forget it and bask in the moment.
Like right now. You could tell him. Ask him what you guys are. Tell him you regret what you said and you want to start something fresh, real. But when you look up at him, seeing the softness in his face, the words die in your throat.
Because you’d rather live this way than admit what you already know:
He doesn’t want you.
You know he’s going to pull away. You know he’s going to end whatever this is and you’ll be left worse than you were when you broke up with Ohyul. You want to cherish every moment with him, the “dates”, the dinners, the moments spent together.
You want it all. But you don’t know if that’s what he wants.
“You’re doing it again.” Ryul taps your forehead, laughing to himself. “Come back to me.”
You smile and bury your face in his shoulder. You scoot closer and a chill across your legs makes you realize that you forgot your shorts and are currently cuddling next to him in just a tank top and your underwear.
“Crap. I forgot to get sleep shorts.”
“Leave it. Nothing I haven’t seen before.” His fingers trail the band of your underwear before he slaps your ass.
You yelp and he laughs when you hit him again. He holds your face and kisses you, each one getting deeper than the last. It’s not long before he’s on top of you again, the same position you guys started in.
“You think you’re okay to go one more time?” His kisses trail down your neck. Always so attentive. Always so respectful.
You let out a hum of acknowledgment. His hand takes yours and you lock hands as his other fiddles with the band of your underwear.
You don’t mind living like this. Staying in the “what if”s.
Even if it kills you.
—
The only downside with Ryul is that he has this habit of ghosting you. But it’s not really ghosting.
You tell yourself it’s not, at least.
You’ll spend a beautiful night together and then you won’t hear from him for days, maybe even a week. He’ll text back once in a blue moon to let you know he’s alive atleast, but other than that… nothing.
You try to pretend it doesn’t hurt. Like this was the exact same thing you were avoiding. You make excuses, saying it’s not that serious or he has a life or he’s just busy.
You open your phone for the umpteenth time. Your “u busy?” text has been left on delivered for 7 hours. Every time you open your phone, you think he’ll magically respond but now you’re just getting more and more frustrated.
You let out a groan and flop on your bed, staring at the ceiling. You wished he could just say something, anything to not leave you hanging. You wonder if he even realizes what he’s doing.
Your phone gets a buzz and you scramble to pick it up. You’re slightly disappointed to find that it’s just your friend but you reply nonetheless.
bestie: friend is hosting a party, wanna come? :)
You’re not the biggest fan of parties. The idea in itself isn’t that bad, it’s probably that you just haven't been to any good one. But it’s not like you had anything better to do, except mope and sulk and spend every breath waiting for Ryul to text you back. Your fingers type out a response before your brain can stop you.
you: sure, what time?
bestie: 7 pm, i’ll pick u up ;) you won’t regret it. wear smth sexy
you: ???
bestie: i’ll be over early to make sure you’re dressed good
you: it’s a party, not a club
And that’s when she decides to leave you on read, which just reminds you of your situationship right now.
You throw your phone on your bed and get some household chores done before you get ready. You clean your room, the bathroom, the kitchen, mop the floor and everything else you can think of.
“This party better be good.” You mumble to yourself as you prepare to get ready.
—
“You look like you’re about to go to your niece’s school play.”
Your best friend is sitting in your chair in the corner of your room, shooting you a disapproving look as you come out of the bathroom with what you thought was a cute dress.
“You’re too modest. This is a party, not a potluck.”
“Do you have anything better?” You shoot back, dejectedly dropping your arms. You were practically hopeless. You hadn’t done any shopping and you weren’t in the mood to go on a spree right now.
“I thought you’d never ask.” She excitedly exclaims, rummaging through her purse and dropping a crap ton of tops and various types of pants on your bed. You wonder how she even fit any of that into her purse.
“What the hell is this?” You eye some of the clothes, some that are definitely… uh, interesting, to say the least.
“Your party options. Get with the program!” She playfully scolds you.
“Is this a skirt or a thong?” You say, picking up the black fabric, which is some sort of mix between the both.
“A miniskirt.” She clarifies. “Just pick something, we're running out of time.”
You roll your eyes and quickly scan over your options. You spot a top you really like, a red drawstring halter top. You pick it up before grabbing the first pair of bottoms you see, a black skirt. You also make sure to grab some tights—the last thing you want is to be cold at the party.
“Be right back.” You rush into your bathroom to change.
A few minutes later, you step out, giving your friend a twirl of the outfit. She claps her hand in excitement. “That looks really good! I’d be so jealous if I saw you.”
You roll your eyes again but laugh nonetheless. “Can we go now?”
“We have to pre-game first!” She pouts.
“And you’re driving, missy.” You remind her, grabbing a purse to match your outfit, along with some nice shoes.
She says something, maybe a complaint, but you don’t care. You just hope this party will give you some time to think. To take your mind off the man plaguing your thoughts.
You check one last time, hoping that maybe Ryul responded but still nothing. You sigh and decide to focus on having fun. You won’t think about him for the rest of the night.
Sigh. Why are people so complicated?
—
You should’ve never stepped a foot into this stupid party.
Not because of the party itself. It was actually pretty good. Your friend failed to mention it’d be a pool party but you weren’t in the mood to swim, so it actually worked out for you.
There were at least things to do: beer pong, some games, you’re sure the host made it their goal to have this be a party where everyone can feel included.
It was more what happened during that pissed you off.
You walked in and the party was already lively, people dancing and others animatedly talking with each other
After mingling with people left and right, you went to go fix yourself a drink.
“I’m gonna get a drink, you want something?” You ask your friend, but she waves you off. She’s too busy trying to get into the pants of the guys in front of her.
You roll your eyes, making a beeline for the kitchen.
That’s when you saw him.
“You gotta be fucking kidding me.” You grumble under your breath.
Ohyul. Kwon Ohyul, your ex, was here at this party.
He was talking with some friends while a girl was hanging off his arm. She was gorgeous, and you really liked the way she styled her hair, being that you could see the dyed red streaks. But it wasn’t her you were worried about.
For some reason, your stomach bubbled with a mix of jealousy and hurt. You felt pathetic, you had no reason to be jealous over a girl you barely even knew. So what if he moved on? You weren’t entitled to his attention and vice versa.
But it was the way she looked so perfect, hanging off his arm. You used to do the same, except she looked less like an accessory and more like his girl. Someone that actually mattered to him. How could she get his attention so easily? What was her secret?
You had broken up only a little while ago, enough for you to have met Ryul and start your little arrangement. He was perfect at making you forget and you didn’t even think about the man that broke your heart all at.
But he didn’t even look the slightest bit hung up over the fact that you broke up with him. Actually, he looked like he was thriving. Like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. You had to admit, he looked really good even after all this while and that was what stung the most.
Were you that much of a bother? Were you the only one holding him back? You were aware that you were becoming suffocating at one point but he just wouldn’t say anything. You weren’t a mind reader, you had known of his quiet tendencies but you didn’t think that it’d be that bad when you guys were together. You figured you could work through it like everyone else. But seeing him here, all perfect and surrounded by his friends and that girl like he belonged there just made you so unbelievably—
The hurt in your stomach turns into anger. How dare he? How dare he basically tell you you wasted your time with him when it’s practically his fault that you guys broke up?
You shake your head and try to pretend he isn’t there as you grab a red solo cup and go to the keg that’s unfortunately being blocked by his friend. You take a deep breath and act like you’re unbothered. You’re just gonna get a drink and go. That’s it, that’s all.
“Excuse me.” You say, tapping on the shoulder of his friend. “I just wanna get a drink.”
“Oh, my bad.” He says moving over for you.
You can feel his eyes on you before you even turn around. You try to pull the keg but it’s just your rotten luck that it gets stuck the moment you need it. You try what you can to pull it or make it work but the universe is hellbent on slapping you across the face.
“Here, let me get that.” His friend saves you, smoothly grabbing the cup out of your hand and trying to fix the keg for you.
You stare ahead, not wanting to make any eye contact with him. You hope his friend can hurry up so you can grab your drink and go.
“Long time no see.” Ohyul starts, getting your attention and forcing you to make an interaction with him.
You turn your head and act all mature, not too surprised but not too pissed off. That’s what he starts with, long time no see? How can he be so casual about it?
“Oh! Ohyul. I didn’t know you were here.”
The girl on his arm gives you a weird look for some reason, and you try to ignore her. You don’t know this girl after all.
“Who’s she?” She asks, pointing at you.
Ohyul almost looks like he doesn’t want to answer, you can see the hesitation on his face, which greatly confuses you. Why is he unsure about your standing?
“I’m his ex-girlfriend. We broke up 4 months ago.” You tell the girl.
She looks you up and down, an unrecognizable look on her face. Whatever, you’re not interested in finding out. “Okay… nice to meet you.”
His friend finally fixes the keg and hands you the drink. “Sorry about that–”
He doesn’t even get to finish before you grab the drink and speed off, uttering out a hushed “thank you!”
And that wasn’t even the worst part.
It wasn’t even the way Ohyul seemed to magically appear where you were.
It wasn’t even the fact that he wouldn’t stop staring at you the entire time, with a weird look on his face, like he was thinking about something.
It wasn’t the fact that you couldn’t get him out of your mind.
It was what happened after.
You had stepped away from the pool area after talking with some new people you had met, wanting to use the bathroom. Once you finished you closed the door and heard a familiar voice through the muffled walls of the room across from you. You found out it was your friend and some guy making out. Leaving her to her own devices with a smirk on your face, you spotted someone familiar in the hallway.
Ryul.
But he wasn’t alone.
There was a girl with her arms around him, and he seemed to be playing into the situation, encouraging it and not pushing her away. His arms were around her waist, an empty cup hanging from his hand. She said something and he laughed at what she said and then–
She kissed him.
It wasn’t one of those rougher ones. It was a softer one, the ones you thought he reserved for you after he had finished fucking your brains out. After he had given you the best night of your life and now he was just giving it to someone else.
It felt like someone had splashed you with cold water. The reminder of your little arrangement washed over you heavily, its reality settling in like concrete.
I don’t do relationships.
You don’t know what you expected. You knew that this would happen. You knew that this day would come. You knew it was only a matter of time.
But you thought you were different.
You thought you could fix him.
You thought that if you spent enough time together, he would change his mind. He would let down his walls for you. And for a while you thought that it worked. He started opening up to you. He started taking you on dates and asking about your day. You thought that you had managed to break whatever barriers he had put up. Sometimes he wouldn’t even come over to have sex, he’d show up and you’d watch a movie together or play some random board games. He even started introducing you to some of his friends.
You wanted to believe it yourself.
But you weren’t fooling anyone but yourself.
How could you be so stupid?
You quickly turn and walk away from the situation. You can’t be here any longer. You want to call your friend because she drove you here but you remember that she’s upstairs making out with a guy. You find your purse and rush outside, needing to get out of here.
Not even air can help you digest what you just saw. Tears are blurring your vision and you’re trying not to crumble in the middle of the empty street. You start walking, not knowing where but just needing to be somewhere.
You hug yourself, your heels clicking on the pavement as the quietness of the night washes over you. You could’ve been at home, watching a movie, relaxing. But no. You didn’t want to cry over Ryul but that’s exactly what happened.
Your phone lights up with a call from your friend and you answer immediately. “Hello?”
“Where are you?! Did you leave already, you should’ve told me!” She exclaims.
You want to say something but your voice breaks and you’re sure she heard it. “Hello? Are you okay? Where are you?”
“I’m fine.” You manage to croak out. “I’ll send you my location. I’m sorry to worry you.”
Your friend absolutely knows that you aren’t fine but she doesn’t press it. “Okay. Just stay put. I’m coming soon.”
You say your goodbyes and hang up the phone. You curse and try your hardest to keep it together until you get home.
You should’ve never stepped foot in this stupid party.
—
You wake up feeling… dreadful.
After your friend dropped you off, you cried into your pillow for half an hour straight, then lazily washed up and covered your hair, passing out as soon as you hit your pillow.
Your phone buzzes and you check to see who texted you. You ignore the messages from your friend, your mom and Ryul—cause he’s the last person you want to talk to—and then you resist the urge to groan when you see the recent text message. From the other last person you want to see texting you.
DNI: you good? saw you leave the party pretty upset
In your haste to hop on the Ohyul hate-train, you had forgotten what even attracted you to him in the first place.
He cared.
And not only in a quiet way. In the way that showed he was always watching, always attentive, noticing every little thing about you. You could mention something offhandedly that you want more hair clips and all of a sudden, he’s gifting you a whole bag of them, and all your favourite colors too.
you: i’m good
You’re not explaining anything else to him. You’re not even giving him the time of the day.
Your phone buzzes again and even though every bike is screaming at you to ignore it, you answer it anyways.
DNI: you wanna talk about it?
you: fuck no. not with you.
DNI: i think we should talk. i’ll be over in 10
you: bro don’t come by my house tf ???
you: bro
you: are you actually srs
you: i’m being dead serious, don’t swing by
But as always, the universe is out to get you because exactly 10 minutes later, you get a knock on your front door. You don’t have to look through the peep hole to know who it is.
“Go away.” You say from behind the door.
“Is this really how we’re gonna play it?” He responds. You can practically hear his amusement and you want to so desperately wipe the smirk off his stupid face.
“Yeah. This is how we’re gonna play it.” You cross your arms.
“C’mon, don’t be like that. You can’t shut me out forever.” He replies and you imagine he’s leaning on the doorframe.
“And yet, here we are. Now fuck off my property.”
There’s a beat of silence before he laughs and you hate the way it sounds exactly the same as when you left him; carefree, open, beautiful.
“Fuck, I missed you.” He admits and even though it’s quiet, it’s loud enough for you to hear.
And it’s enough for you to crumble.
This had been exactly what you were wishing for. For him to notice. For him to realize your presence. For him to stop and actually think about you. All those times where you forced yourself to move on and to stop thinking about him, believing that he wouldn’t give you the same treatment and here he was, admitting that you actually had an effect on him.
A statement that filled you with both satisfaction and anger.
Why did it take you breaking up with him to realize that he had made a huge mistake? Why was it only when you were gone that he realized that he fucked up?
Your hesitation tells Ohyul all that he needs to know. “C’mon, sweetheart. Be a good girl and open the door.”
You sigh and roll your eyes so hard. You’re so fucking easy.
You unlock the door and there is Ohyul in all his glory, his infuriating smile, his infuriating face. You don’t know if you want to punch him or kiss him. “If we talk, you better go away after this.”
“No promises.”
You roll your eyes again but let him in nonetheless. “Don’t make me regret this.”
—
You have no idea how you got here.
One minute Ohyul was in your house and now you’re on your bed, exhausted beyond belief after Ohyul ate you out like there was no tomorrow.
He’s in the kitchen now, probably fixing something for you to eat. Space has given you time to think. And some serious thinking you did.
With the strength you managed to muster up—considering your legs feel like jelly—you don an old tank top and leave your room, grabbing a long cardigan and meeting Ohyul in the kitchen.
You were right to assume that he was cooking something because you see him setting a plate with a sandwich that looks really delicious. He catches you leaning against the door frame and gives you a small smile. “You're up. I was wondering if I was gonna have to carry you.”
You ignore the way your face heats up at his reminder and try to focus on the task at hand. “We need to talk.”
“Yeah, that’s what I came here to do.”
“We didn’t talk, you just wanted to get into my pants.”
“You didn’t object.” He reminds you, turning and leaning on the sink. He crosses his arms and faces you and you ignore the way his arms bulge, showing off his muscles and you’re sure he knows what he’s doing.
“Ohyul, I’m so fucking confused right now.”
He can sense that you’re being a little more serious, so he straightens up a bit. “What’s up sweetheart?”
“You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to ignore me for the entirety of our relationship and then show up here under the guise of wanting to talk.” You begin, the past hurt bubbling up again.
His lips press into a flat line. “I think that’s a bit of a stretch. We had a good time together.”
“Are you serious? It got to a point where I was practically chasing you around everywhere! You stopped texting, you stopped calling, you’d cancel on dates or even stand me up sometimes!” You get off the door frame and take a step closer.
“I was busy. I wasn’t trying to be checked out. I was still here, I was trying.” He tries to defend himself. You don’t know why he’s getting heated instead of just admitting he was wrong.
“Do you know how many times I told myself that? The amount of excuses I made for you and to my friends on why you were getting flaky? I thought if I waited, you’d come to me slowly and slowly. I thought this was a rough patch, that it was a normal thing couples go through. But every time I pulled away, it was like you remembered I exist and suddenly, you were the best boyfriend ever. You were the Ohyul I first fell for.”
“I didn’t want things to be like this!” He says, his voice getting louder. “I loved being with you, I loved everything you had to bring, your smile, your laugh, everything!”
“And yet, here we are.” You say. “And the girl you were with at that party, is she your new girlfriend?”
“There’s nothing going on between me and her.” He clarifies and if you weren't so hurt, you would’ve noticed how quick he was to answer that.
“Sure didn’t look that way at the party.”
“What, you’re jealous?” He smirks.
“That’s what you’re getting from this?”
“I’m getting that you’re still in love with me.”
His words stop you in your tracks. Your eyes widen, at the absurdity of his words and the unsettling truth you didn’t want to confront.
“And…” He continues, taking a step closer. “You also have some sort of feelings for Ryul.”
Your heart drops to your stomach. How the hell did he know about that? And why is he bringing this up now? “How the hell–”
“He and I are friends. Do you know how interesting it was to hear that not even a month after we break up, Ryul says that he’s been seeing some girl he met? He didn’t tell me your name but I overheard him bragging to his friends about how good you were, and how he loved how needy you got after getting your brains fucked out.”
If this was anyone else talking, you would’ve been happy to hear that Ryul noticed that part of yourself, your need to initiate physical touch to ground yourself, to make the moment more intimate. But this was too much to wrap your head around:
Your ex-boyfriend and your situationship are friends.
Ryul’s words hit you like a freight train:
“So what’s up with you and Ohyul?”
He knew. That fucker knew and he still made you feel like you were the only person that mattered to him. “What’s your point, Ohyul?”
“My point is,” he begins, a hand reaching out to grab your waist and pull you closer. “That you’ll have to choose between me or him.”
When you don’t say anything, he continues. “I fucked up. You have no idea how long I spent regretting every single second that I pushed you away, that I ever made you feel like you were less than you were. Seeing you at that party, in that fucking skirt drove me mad. I didn’t know whether to kiss you or hold you close and never let go. And then seeing you run out and you were almost crying broke something in me because I had to remember that I couldn’t wipe your tears away anymore. I wanted so desperately to run after you but I didn’t know if that was what you wanted.
“But none of that anymore. I’m here. I’m here and I want you so bad that it hurts. Every second spent without you has made me feel–”
“Get out.”
Your words stop him cold. He almost thinks he didn’t hear you properly until you shove at his chest.
“Get the fuck out!” You shout, trying not to cry infront of him.
You think you catch a little bit of vulnerability in his eyes but instead he covers it up with an infuriating smirk, one that screams that he knows something you don’t and it has your stomach churning with both butterflies and dread. He grabs your face and kisses you, passionate and fast, like he’s trying to pour out all the words he can’t say. You don’t push him away at first, you actually reciprocate by instinct until you remember your outburst. He pulls away before you can push him off, a string of saliva connecting you before he runs his thumb across your lip.
“I’ll be waiting. Take your time, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.”
And with that, he’s gone. As if he was never here to begin with. And with him being gone, you break down in your kitchen, sinking to your knees and sobbing.
Because he was right. You were still in love with him.
And you hate him for that. Ohyul was always an observant guy, he could tell what you were feeling and he had a knack for being able to tell you the cold hard truth. Yours being that you’re still in love with your ex-boyfriend. You waited weeks to hear that confession from him, staring at his contact hoping that he’d tell you he regretted it and that he wanted you back. All those times you psyched yourself out of blocking him because you needed to make sure he was completely over you.
And then when you finally get the confession you want, it makes you happy and undeniably furious.
Why did he have to wait until you were Ryul to say something? He knew all this time and chose to wait until you had feelings for Ryul to fuck with you? What was stopping him before? He surely had no qualms coming in here and pulling the submission of you—in more ways than one—so why now? Why when you were so entangled with another man did he choose to make himself known? If he had told you weeks before, you would’ve dropped everything and ran back to him.
And the worst part is that you know Ohyul is sincere. You know that he wouldn’t have said all that if he didn’t mean it. It had hurt you to kick him out while he was being vulnerable and honest but you knew that if he didn’t, you’d do something that you regret. (Like sleeping with him.)
But he doesn’t have the right. He doesn’t get to just show up thinking that a couple of words will undo all the shit he put you through. You needed to think.
You pull out your phone and go to make a call. He answers on the second ring, his voice filling your ears.
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