synopsis | sfw and nsfw headcanons for sweet, sweet boyfriend!jo, who has been hiding some interesting drawings from you.
details | boyfriend!jo x female!reader, non idol au, established relationship, fluff, jo is a sweetheart of course, below the cut is SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI, sub!jo, oral (f receiving), masturbation, penetration (p in v), unprotected sex (WRAP IT!), cum eating, cursing, not proofread, requested
wc | 1.1k
from the author | ive never written headcanons before and im 90% sure i did not do them Right. i wrote a normal fic in a horrifically complicated way. enjoy anyway i had fun :D also let me know if the cut placement is annoying and ill edit it to put everything under the cut !!
boyfriend!jo who, after mustering up every ounce of courage within him, planned an elaborate, romantic, and very public first date for the two of you. the restaurant was notoriously fancy, so he rented a tux and asked that you, too, wear something nice. although he thought you'd look beautiful in anything.
boyfriend!jo who visibly sighed a breath of relief when you suggested abandoning the dinner reservation and ordering a pizza to his apartment. the two of you sat in his floor dressed to the nines, stringing beads on plastic thread and bordering on madness when the fully constructed bracelets slid from between your greasy fingers before you could tie it off.
boyfriend!jo who carries the shopping basket while the two of you are grocery shopping because you once complained that the metal handles dig into your fingers.
boyfriend!jo who slowly piles blankets on top of you while you watch movies together, hoping that you'll be too comfortable by the time the credits roll to leave. alternatively, you'll just be stuck on the couch with him.
boyfriend!jo who feeds you popcorn while your arms are trapped beneath nine blankets.
boyfriend!jo who hangs onto your every word when you speak to the point that you reconsider what you're even talking about. what am i even saying, you wonder. he cant possibly be this interested in your friend's secondhand workplace drama. but he's listening, actively, attentively. because its you.
boyfriend!jo who secretly loves being little spoon, curling his long legs into yours and sinking into your hold.
boyfriend!jo who attempts to bake you a cake for your anniversary and ends up with more ingredients outside the mixing bowl than in.
boyfriend!jo who stole your heart, yes, but also steals glances at you more often than not, sometimes snapping a candid photo to use as a reference when he draws you in his notebook later.
boyfriend!jo who nearly cried when you gifted him the expensive set of pencils he'd been wanting forever but couldn't justify buying for himself. after giving you a swift kiss, he crammed his sketchbook and pencils into a bag and pulled you to the nearest cafe. he spent the next hour having you pose in sunlight, experimenting with shadows and basking in every moment with you.
boyfriend!jo who used his new pencils to add rich, blended color to a different, secret sketchbook, one you were never supposed to see.
boyfriend!jo who left his private sketchbook on the table, spine cracked and pages face down. he should have known you'd be curious about his work. you're always astonished by his varying styles, vivid interpretations of shared experiences. this time, however, you flipped the book over to reveal something you've never seen, at least not from that angle.
boyfriend!jo who has dedicated several pages of the sketchbook to lewd illustrations. ultra detailed, vibrant depictions of you, your pussy stretched and leaking, your lips swollen and coated in white. all hand drawn and from memory. you flip through the pages, thighs clenching, ideas brewing.
boyfriend!jo who comes home and sees the sketchbook face up, whose heart drops into his stomach as he anxiously peers into the kitchen in search of you, and who eventualy finds you on the bed, waiting for him with your clothes in a pile and your knees falling open.
boyfriend!jo who freezes in the doorway, watching your fingers pump in and out of your desperate hole. he feels his dick strain in his pants as your free hand gropes and twists at your nipple.
boyfriend!jo who manages to choke out a generous, "c-can i help you?"
boyfriend!jo who, after you reply with, "no, thank you, baby," seethes with lust, watching you bring yourself to completion in front of him. your orgasm racks over your body, your mewls and gasps sending all the blood to his cock.
boyfriend!jo who is so obedient, fetching his special sketchbook and sitting on the bed in front of you, just like you asked. as he settles, shifting uncomfortably from the way his dick is pressing against his jeans, you say, "i saw your drawings, jojo. you're very good, wouldn't you say?"
boyfriend!jo who cant stop staring at the crease of your thigh as you speak, your legs folded to one side. he knows what he wants from you but he just cant take it. he needs you to give it to him. "y-yes," he gulps, "especially when its you."
boyfriend!jo who has never been so needy, his mind actually spinning when you suggest, or rather insist, that he use you as a live model. "pose me however you want," you had said with a smile despite the venom of your intentions seeping between your words, "and if its good, i'll let you touch me."
boyfriend!jo who outlines your body on the page, truthfully and precisely. every curve, every shadow captured on paper to the best of his ability. with his tongue tucked between his teeth, he shades with a slanted wrist, washes the whole image in a gentle pigment, highlights the glistening slopes of your breasts and the pulsing slit of your pussy. and when he turns the book around to show you, you feel your face grow hot. his interpretation of you is perfectly honest and raw, beautifully executed.
boyfriend!jo who sighs into your pussy when you finally let him touch you, taste you.
boyfriend!jo who whines as you thread your fingers into his hair, grinding desperately against the bed as the taste of you covers every inch of his tongue. he was so good in every way.
boyfriend!jo who gets the most satisfaction just laying helplessly beneath you and letting you use him for your own pleasure. he loves watching your body roll and twist above him, caressing your thighs and, if he's feeling brave, ghosting his fingers over your nipples.
boyfriend!jo who knows hes not allowed to cum inside of you, so he fists the sheets and rolls his own hips to bring you closer to the edge. you know he's close when his frantic whimpers regress into concentrated breathing, teetering on stifled groans but just controlled enough that you know he wants to make you proud.
boyfriend!jo who lets you ride out your high before pulling out and spilling hot cum all up his stomach.
boyfriend!jo who shivers when you lower your tongue to his skin and lap the majority of it up, just before pulling the freshly drawn page out of his sketchbook and using it to wipe up the rest.
boyfriend!jo who takes the paper from your hand and drags it over the scattered droplets on his chest.
boyfriend!jo who, after a sudden rush of confidence, slides his sensitive tip through your pussy and sighs, "let me draw you while im inside?"
ෆ ･ 𝓢YNOPSIS: jo is a quiet, shy art student, lost in sketches and ceramics. you can’t help teasing him, brushing his hands, and testing his obedience. he’s shy, sensitive, but he trusts you more with every touch. ෆ ･ 𝓦/𝓒: 3272
ෆ ･ 𝓜.LIST! & 𝓣AGLIST!
the art building wakes up before the rest of campus.
the halls still echo a little, footsteps too loud against concrete floors, sunlight barely stretching through tall north-facing windows. jo likes it this way. early means quiet. quiet means he can breathe.
he’s already there when most people are still asleep, sketchbook open, pencil moving in soft, practiced strokes. hands, mostly. always hands. he draws them like they’re something sacred. curved fingers, careful tension, the way palms tell stories without words.
he doesn’t notice you at first.
you’re leaning against the doorway, watching him with your arms crossed, expression unreadable. the kind of presence people feel before they see. someone passes behind you. one of the football guys, loud even this early.
“damn, you’re fine, you—”
you: “no.”
just one word. calm. effortless. he stops talking immediately. jo’s pencil pauses when the room goes quiet again. he looks up, eyes wide, startled like he’s been caught doing something private.
j: “oh—hi. sorry, i didn’t hear you.”
you step inside, heels clicking softly, gaze drifting from his face to his sketchbook.
you: “you’re here early.”
j: “i, um… yeah. i like the light better.”
you hum, leaning over slightly to look closer.
you: “you draw hands a lot.”
his ears turn pink.
j: “they’re expressive.”
you: “they’re honest.”
that makes him look at you. really look. you sit on the edge of the table beside him like it’s the most natural thing in the world, knee brushing his leg. he stiffens but doesn’t move away.
j: “do you… need something?”
you smile, small and unreadable.
you: “just wanted to see what you were working on.”
your fingers hover near the page, not touching. he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. the pencil starts moving again.
and for the first time in a long time, jo doesn’t mind being watched. by the end of the week, jo starts expecting you. it’s subtle at first. the way he glances toward the doorway when he sits down. the way he listens for footsteps that don’t rush or hesitate.
you show up between classes, always unhurried. sometimes with a coffee you don’t offer him. sometimes with nothing at all, just your presence filling the room. he pretends it doesn’t affect him. it does. today you drop into the chair across from him, chin resting in your palm as he sketches.
you: “you always get that look when you’re concentrating.”
his pencil stutters.
j: “what look?”
you: “like you’d do anything if someone told you how.”
he swallows.
j: “i’m just… focusing.”
you lean forward, elbows on the table.
you: “you’re really good at it.”
praise lands harder than teasing. he ducks his head, ears warming.
j: “thank you.”
the room fills with quiet again, broken only by the sound of graphite on paper. jo relaxes into it, until you shift closer, your knee brushing his this time on purpose. he tenses. doesn’t pull away.
you: “sorry.”
he shakes his head quickly.
j: “it’s okay.”
it feels like permission. outside, raised voices drift through the open window. laughter. someone shouting his name. one of the guys from ceramics class, loud and careless. jo’s shoulders curl in instinctively. you glance toward the window, unimpressed.
you: “they always this annoying?”
j: “kind of.”
you: “you don’t have to talk to them, you know.”
he blinks at that.
j: “i don’t want to be rude.”
you smile, slow and knowing.
you: “you’re not rude. you’re just quiet.”
he risks a look at you then.
j: “you don’t mind?”
you: “no.”
you reach out, briefly covering his hand on the pencil. just a second. grounding. intentional.
you: “i like that you don’t talk much.”
his breath catches. later, when you finally leave, jo realizes something unsettling. his sketchbook is open to a page he doesn’t remember starting. it’s you. not detailed. not perfect. but unmistakably yours. and he doesn’t erase it. jo learns things about you without meaning to.
it’s hard not to, when people talk the way they do. your name travels faster than you do, carried in half-whispers and exaggerated stories. untouched. unbothered. impossible. the kind of girl people try once and never again. he sees it play out in real time outside the student union. he’s sitting on a bench, sketchbook open but forgotten, when a group of guys pass you. one of them peels off, confidence loud and unearned.
“you should let me take you out sometime.”
you don’t even slow down.
you: “i’m good.”
“c’mon, i’m just asking—”
you stop walking. turn just enough to look at him.
you: “and i already answered.”
something about your tone shuts him up. he mutters something under his breath and backs off, embarrassed in front of his friends. jo watches, stunned. when you spot him, your expression softens immediately. you walk over like the shift is instinctive.
you: “hey.”
j: “hi.”
he hesitates, then gestures vaguely.
j: “does that… happen a lot?”
you shrug, sitting beside him.
you: “more than i’d like.”
j: “i don’t get why they think they can just—”
you: “because they think i owe them something.”
you glance at his sketchbook.
you: “i don’t.”
that settles something in his chest. a group of girls walk past, eyes flicking between the two of you. whispers follow. jo feels suddenly self-conscious, aware of how close you’re sitting, how your shoulder brushes his.
j: “people are staring.”
you: “let them.”
you shift closer, deliberate.
you: “they’re not the ones i’m here with.”
his face warms, heart tripping over itself.
j: “why… me?”
you look at him then, really look.
you: “because you’re gentle.”
your fingers tap his knee once, light but grounding.
you: “and you don’t expect anything from me.”
he swallows, nodding.
j: “i like that you choose me.”
you smile, small and real.
you: “good.”
and for the first time, jo sits a little straighter beside you, sketchbook forgotten, letting the world see what you’ve already decided. it starts with convenience. that’s what jo tells himself, anyway.
the art building couches are old and sunken, placed too close together like someone wanted people to sit wrong on purpose. when you drop down beside him, there isn’t enough space not to touch.
your thigh presses into his. steady. warm. he freezes. waits for you to move. you don’t.
you: “you okay?”
j: “y-yeah.”
he means it, too. his body just hasn’t caught up yet. you lean back, stretching your arms over the back of the couch. relaxed. unguarded. like this is normal. like he is normal. after a few minutes, you shift without warning and sit sideways, one leg draped easily over his lap. casual. unthinking. devastating. jo’s breath stutters.
j: “i—”
you: “is this too much?”
he shakes his head quickly.
j: “no. i mean—no, it’s okay.”
your weight settles. grounding. your hand rests briefly on his shoulder, thumb brushing once, absentminded. he melts. later, it flips. you tug him down gently by the sleeve, until he’s half-sitting on your lap instead. he’s stiff at first, posture awkward, hands hovering uselessly.
you: “relax.”
your hands guide him, firm but gentle, settling him where you want him. his body listens before his brain does. he exhales, shaky.
j: “i don’t usually… do this.”
you: “i know.”
your tone is soft. understanding.
you: “you’re doing great.”
that does something to him. his shoulders drop. his head tips forward, resting briefly against your collarbone like it belongs there. he makes a small sound before he can stop himself; embarrassed, needy.
j: “s-sorry.”
you: “don’t apologize.”
your fingers slide through his hair once, slow and deliberate.
you: “i like when you let yourself be held.”
he nods, cheeks burning, hands clutching lightly at your jacket like he’s afraid of falling. when he finally pulls away, he looks dazed. softer. changed. and when you stand, he reaches for your wrist without thinking. just for a second. you look down at him, smiling.
you: “yeah?”
j: “…nothing.”
you squeeze his hand anyway before letting go. jo spends the rest of the day feeling like something has shifted. like he’s crossed a line he doesn’t want to uncross. it happens after hours.
the art building is quieter than usual, lights dimmed, the air cooler. jo stays late to clean brushes he doesn’t need to clean, to wipe down tables already spotless. anything to keep his hands busy. you notice.
you: “you’re stalling.”
he startles, glancing up from the sink.
j: “i just—wanted to finish up.”
you step closer, leaning against the counter beside him.
you: “you always do that when you’re nervous.”
his shoulders tense.
j: “i’m not—”
he stops. exhales.
j: “okay. maybe a little.”
you don’t tease him this time.
you: “talk to me.”
he hesitates, fingers twisting in the hem of his hoodie.
j: “i don’t really… know what i’m doing. with this.”
you: “with me?”
he nods.
j: “i like you. a lot. and i don’t want to mess it up by being… too much. or not enough.”
the words come out rushed, like he’s afraid they’ll disappear if he doesn’t say them fast enough. you reach out, lifting his chin gently so he has to look at you.
you: “jo.”
your thumb brushes his jaw once, grounding.
you: “you don’t have to perform for me.”
his eyes shine, emotions too close to the surface.
j: “i just want to do things right.”
you: “you are.”
you step closer, closing the space between you until he can feel your warmth.
you: “you listen. you ask. you stop when you’re unsure.”
your forehead rests lightly against his.
you: “that’s not nothing.”
his breath comes shaky.
j: “i don’t have a lot of experience.”
you: “that’s okay.”
firm. certain.
you: “we go at your pace.”
his hands lift hesitantly, hovering at your waist.
you: “you can touch me.”
they settle there like they’ve been waiting for permission. he exhales, shoulders sagging in relief.
j: “thank you.”
you smile, soft and real.
you: “come here.”
you pull him into a slow, careful embrace. nothing rushed. nothing taken. just closeness. just choice.
and when you pull back, the air between you feels charged. fragile. dangerous in the best way. something has been crossed. neither of you wants to go back.
the studio is empty. the sun has gone, and the overhead lights hum softly, casting long shadows across tables and easels. jo is already there, hands busy with a half-finished ceramic piece, but he’s distracted. he knows you’re here before he hears your footsteps.
you: “finally alone.”
he swallows, heart hammering. his pencil hovers over the clay like he might drop it at any second.
j: “i… didn’t expect—”
you: “didn’t expect me to follow?”
j: “i… no, i mean—”
your smile stops him mid-word. the kind of smile that tells him you know exactly what you’re doing. you step closer, close enough for your hands to brush his shoulders. the warmth sends a shiver down his spine.
you: “you’re tense.”
j: “i—i am.”
you laugh softly, leaning your forehead against his shoulder. he flinches a little, but doesn’t move away.
you: “good. i like when you’re nervous around me.”
his ears burn. he drops his gaze to the table, fingers fidgeting, but he doesn’t pull back.
you: “hands.”
his eyes snap up, and you lift one of his, holding it gently in yours. you trace his knuckles, fingertips brushing lightly.
you: “so capable. do you know how good they could be?”
j: “…i… i—”
you: “shh.”
your fingers linger on his jaw, holding him steady as you lean in for a kiss, his lips swollen and parted the second you pull back, chasing more. the studio's dim light catches the sheen of sweat on his skin, his chest heaving under the thin fabric of his shirt. you can see the bulge straining against his pants, his thighs shifting restlessly where he stands before you, close enough that his heat radiates toward you.
you: “on your knees, jo. show me how much you want this.”
he drops without hesitation, knees hitting the cool floor with a soft thud, his hands hovering uncertainly at your hips. his eyes flick up to yours, wide and pleading, that flush creeping down his neck. you nod encouragingly, guiding one of his hands to the hem of your shirt, lifting it just enough for him to see the lace of your bra peeking out.
j: “like this?”
his voice is a whisper, fingers trembling as they push the fabric higher, exposing your stomach, then your ribs. you arch into his touch, letting him take his time, his palms sliding up to cup your breasts through the thin material. he squeezes tentatively, thumbs circling the hardening nipples, and you hum in approval, threading your fingers through his hair to keep him close.
you: “yes, just like that. don't stop now.”
he leans in, mouth brushing the edge of your bra before he tugs it down with his teeth, freeing one breast. his tongue darts out, licking a hot stripe over the peak, then closing his lips around it to suck gently. the pull sends sparks down your spine, and you press his head firmer against you, rocking subtly against the air between your legs.
he switches sides, lavishing the other with wet, open-mouthed kisses, his free hand trailing lower, tracing the line of your waistband. you spread your stance a bit wider, inviting him, and he takes the cue, fingers popping the button on your jeans. the zipper drags down slowly, his breath hot against your skin as he peels the denim away, along with your underwear, leaving you bare from the waist down.
j: “... can i taste you?”
you: “not yet. use your fingers first. make me feel good.”
he nods eagerly, one hand steadying on your thigh while the other slips between your legs. his fingertips brush your folds, slick already from the buildup, and he gasps at the wetness coating them. slowly, he parts you, middle finger circling your entrance before pushing inside, the intrusion warm and careful. your walls clench around him, pulling him deeper, and he watches your face for every reaction, adding a second finger when you moan softly.
you: “curl them... find that spot.”
he does, twisting his wrist, the pads of his fingers pressing against your inner walls until he grazes the sensitive ridge. your hips buck, pleasure blooming sharp and sweet, and he starts thrusting in earnest—pumping steadily, his thumb finding your clit to rub in tight, uneven circles. the lewd squelch of your arousal fills the quiet space, his arm flexing with each motion, face buried against your stomach as he works you higher.
j: “am i doing it right? you feel so tight... so perfect.”
you: “you're learning fast jojo.”
that fueled him up. his fingers plunging deeper, faster, scissoring to stretch you open while his mouth sucks bruises into your hip. the coil in your core tightens unbearably, your thighs quivering around his shoulders, until it snaps. orgasm ripping through you, pussy pulsing around his digits as you cry out, juices soaking his palm and dripping down his wrist.
he doesn't stop right away, easing you through it with gentler strokes, kissing your trembling skin until you tug him up by the hair. his face is wrecked. lips shiny, eyes dark with need, cock tenting his pants painfully.
j: “please... i need to be inside you. let me in you. i can't wait anymore.”
his plea tumbles out desperate, hands fumbling with his own belt, but he waits for your permission, body taut like a bowstring. you smile, predatory and fond, stepping back to the nearby stool and perching on its edge, legs parting wide.
you: “come here. show me what you've got.”
he shoves his pants down just enough, freeing his cock. thick, veined, tip flushed and weeping pre-cum. he steps between your thighs, gripping the base as he lines up, rubbing the head through your slick folds. with a shared groan, he pushes in, slow at first, your pussy yielding to his girth inch by inch until he's seated fully, balls snug against you.
j: “... so warm. so good.”
you wrap your legs around him, heels digging into his ass to urge him on.
you: “move. take me like i taught you.”
he starts thrusting, shallow at first, testing, then building to a steady rhythm—hips snapping forward, cock dragging along your walls with each plunge. you guide his hands to your breasts, showing him how to pinch and twist, and he follows, leaning down to capture your mouth in a messy kiss, tongues tangling as he fucks into you harder. the stool rocks under the force, his grunts mixing with your moans, sweat slicking where your bodies meet. he angles his hips, grinding against your clit on every inward stroke, chasing both your pleasures under your watchful eye.
you: “that's it... deeper. make us both cum.”
he pounds relentlessly now, one hand bracing on the wall behind you, the other stroking your thigh. the pressure rebuilds fast, your second orgasm cresting as his cock throbs inside you. you clench down, pulling him over the edge. he buries himself deep with a broken whimper, cum flooding your pussy in hot pulses, spilling out around him as he shudders.
you hold him close through the aftershocks, praising softly into his ear, bodies entwined in the hazy quiet of the studio, the night far from over.
the studio smells faintly of clay and paint. the lights are dim, just enough to see, but the room feels quieter now. jo sits curled up on the couch, hoodie pulled a little tighter around him, fingers twisting in the fabric. his cheeks are still pink, eyes wide, uncertain.
you: “hey.”
he startles, looks up.
j: “i… i’m sorry.”
you: “for what?”
he swallows, voice small.
j: “for… everything. for being… too sensitive.”
you kneel in front of him, lifting his chin gently so he has to meet your eyes.
you: “jo. look at me.”
he blinks, hesitant.
you: “you didn’t do anything wrong. i wanted you exactly like this. every whimper, every nervous glance. all of it.”
he exhales shakily, shoulders sagging. relief floods his expression.
j: “really?”
you: “really.”
you reach out, brushing a loose strand of hair from his face. your fingers linger on his cheek, thumb tracing lightly.
you: “i like you. like this. like… you.”
his lips part slightly. he leans into your touch without thinking.
j: “…okay.”
you shift so he’s leaning against you, still on the couch, and he melts into your side. your hands rest lightly on his back, rubbing circles, slow and grounding. he nuzzles against your chest, quiet now, but completely present. after a moment, he hesitantly lifts a hand. you catch it in yours, holding it gently.
you: “you’re safe. always.”
he exhales, tiny whimper of contentment.
j: “i… i like being with you.”
you: “i know. i like it too.”
later, he shows you the small sketch he made after everything, quiet but proud. a little smile tugs at your lips as you lift it carefully, setting it somewhere meaningful. you lean back against him, forehead to forehead, and just breathe.
you: “we don’t have to rush anything. we’ll take it slow.”
j: “…slow is good.”
the tension from before lingers, but softer now. heavier with trust. heavier with warmth. and jo realizes, fully, that he’s not just a boy you notice. he’s someone you choose. and that thought is the quietest, strongest kind of intimacy there is.
@snowzxki actually requested this so like all props to them for the idea. i fucking love submissive jojo and this shit literally gave the movie "babygirl" vibes.. also so sorry if i missed a few things i've been mind fucked bc of school.😓
warnings: fluff!! mentions of alcohol, the existence of nakakita yuma
a/n: for my amazing mimi!!! sorry for torturing you with tyler catastrophe tiktoks this is my formal apology i sincerely hope you accept it.
asakura jo always preferred to be alone rather than around people.
people meant chaos, crowds meant exhaustion and he always valued his peace more than anything - quiet evenings spent in his apartment, soft music playing in the background as he sat down on his couch, fully and wholeheartedly invested in his hobbies and passions without any interruptions or outside distractions.
but then you came along.
his quiet, perfectly curated routine of calmness began to crumble the first moment his gaze landed upon you — yuma’s apartment loud with chatter and laughter, his group of friends chaotic as always. it didn’t bother him, at least not anymore: he’s grown accustomed to the mischief and havoc his friends brought along with them wherever they went. despite all their personalities being completely different, they all got along together perfectly — jo valued their friendship more than anything else in this world. he was thankful for how they never forced him to participate in their banter, giving him a chance to just sit in their presence instead of necessarily interacting. they were his bubble of comfort; a group of people whom he didn’t mind the loudness with, whose chaos didn’t seem to bother him. he thought inviting someone out of the group would disrupt that bubble — and yet his assumptions couldn’t be further from the truth.
normally, strangers entering his space meant discomfort — a lingering feeling which left him uneasy, unable to enjoy the function to its fullest extent. that same feeling mounted over him the moment yuma mentioned bringing in someone from outside to meet the rest of his friends: and yet when he saw you, it disappeared completely.
you seemed familiar in a way jo couldn’t quite decipher. there was something alluring about you — a quiet charm which piqued his interest almost immediately. you were much calmer than his friends, more collected, more hesitant about speaking in a group setting, settling for polite smiles and quiet laughs instead. your personality didn’t take up much space and yet, for jo, it seemed to be the most interesting thing in the room.
he wouldn’t speak up on it, though. that night, the only conversation you had with him directly was an awkward exchange of names, followed by a smile which made jo feel weak in the knees, face heating up in an instant, which somehow went unnoticed by you.
but it didn’t go unnoticed by nakakita yuma.
nakakita yuma — jo’s self proclaimed best friend, the only friend who’s known him long enough to know every little detail about him, down to his meal preferences and being able to spot that slight, almost unnoticeable change in his facial expression whenever he felt uncomfortable. they’ve been seemingly inseparable since kindergarten, a fact which surprised many due to their rather different personalities. in truth, it didn’t need to make sense for anyone else — they understood their bond perfectly, and that was what mattered most.
he was the only one jo ever went to for advice, even if he ended up questioning said advice later on, the only one jo trusted enough to fully open up to no matter the situation — which made it even more surprising for yuma when his best friend uttered no word to him about his very obvious crush on you, instead opting to stay quiet. it struck him as odd, but he didn’t push. if there was one thing that yuma’s learned throughout the years, it was to give jo time — so he let him solve this one on his own.
but he still watched with a curious eye and an amused smirk pulling at his lips, almost as if the whole thing humored him more than his friend’s shenanigans ever could.
jo tried his best not to make it too obvious — his moves calculated, his steps slow and careful. his head seemingly shooting up whenever he’d hear you start talking, soft laughter escaping his lips when you’d make a joke, making sure not to forget your favorite drink when it was his turn to provide drinks for the hangout. all casual to an untrained eye, but extremely meaningful once you realised it was jo who was doing these things. he’d smile softly when you’d thank him, your fingers brushing his as you took the beverage from his hands, trying desperately to stop the pinkish blush creeping onto his cheeks, your touch lingering where your skin brushed his.
and yet despite all this, you two barely talked — some small talk here and there when you’d be the first ones to arrive at yuma’s apartment, a look exchanged whenever one of your friends would do something particularly dumb, but nothing more. jo’s own helplessness infuriated him greatly: no one has ever made him feel this way, he wasn’t exactly sure of what to do to truly get your attention, to truly have a chance with you.
he didn’t even know you that well and yet you had already acquired a special place in his soul - a soft spot that had created itself only for your sake.
and this fine way was how he ended up in yuma’s apartment, a bag of takeout in his right hand and the most miserable look on his face.
‘i need your help.’ he mumbled between bites of rice, eyes avoiding his best friend’s gaze at all costs. yuma chuckled.
‘i know you do.’ the shorter man admitted, a can of beer in his hand as he sat comfortably at the other end of the table. ‘it’s been pretty apparent since the first moment you laid eyes on her.’
jo almost choked on his food at how quickly his friend exposed him — and yet he shouldn’t have been surprised, truly. it wasn’t the first time this has happened, with yuma reading him like an open book at almost any given occasion.
‘you’re just saying that to play with me.’ he said, turning his head to the side.
‘you blushed when she introduced herself. she literally just told you her name and you were redder than euijoo’s hair.’
jo sighed.
‘alright, maybe you’re right.’ he finally admitted, a hand running through his hair in an anxious motion. ‘it won’t work out anyways. i can’t- i don’t know how to talk to her. yeah, i’ve had crushes before, but this feels… different.’
yuma’s smile faltered for a few seconds — turning into something more serious, eyes scanning his best friend’s face with perfect focus, almost as if he was trying to read his emotions, get inside his brain. it didn’t last long, though: sooner rather than later he was back to his usual relaxed position, back leaning against the wall behind him, a grin pulling at his lips.
‘don’t you worry about a single thing, my dear friend.’ he said, voice laced with a hint of something jo couldn’t quite decipher. mischief, humour maybe. ‘i’ll gladly help you ask her out if that means not having to see your rather pathetic attempts at chatting her up any longer.’
‘were they really that bad?’ jo asked quietly, covering his face with his hands, elbows propped on the table.
‘not the worst i’ve seen, but certainly in the bottom tier.’ yuma admitted. ‘but look at the bright side! you have me as a friend — i’ll make sure that everything works out in the end.’
jo’s blind trust in yuma might’ve as well ended up being the death of him one day.
small hangout, he said. only the friend group and you, he said. what an absolute liar he was.
yuma’s apartment was filled to the brim — overflowing with people, music buzzing in jo’s ears, the limited amount of personal space making him feel slightly uneasy. he remembered what his best friend said about ‘having to get out of his comfort zone’, and yet he still didn’t expect to be thrown into deep waters like this. so many faces he didn’t recognise, so many unpredictable situations that could’ve occurred, and no corner to hide himself in from the crowd, the loudness and the absolute hell of a dance floor in the middle of yuma’s living room.
little did he know, it was all part of his best friend’s plan.
jo searched around for any faces that seemed familiar, preferably his best friend’s, when his eyes landed on you — standing in the kitchen area, back leaning against the counter and a can in your hand as you talked with the host of the party, the one who jo was trying to find mere seconds ago.
he saw the way you smiled at something yuma said and he swore his heart melted right then and there: your smile so beautiful and radiant he wanted to engrave it inside his mind and let it stay there forever. he didn’t even realise when his legs started moving in your direction — steps slow and careful, maneuvering around the crowd of people with true skill and determination only someone who hates interacting with strangers could possess.
yuma noticed his best friend in the corner of his vision and chuckled at the sight of jo’s awkward journey through the multitude of drunken individuals — waving him over to join him and you in your conversation, a grin on his face when jo finally managed to get through to the two of you.
‘enjoying the party?’ he asked almost teasingly, knowing almost too well that the answer was written all over jo’s face. he couldn’t help but let out a laugh when he saw jo shaking his head.
‘it’s, uh, it’s fine.’ he said, voice barely audible because of the loud music. his eyes drifted to your face for just a split second — and yet he looked back just as fast when he noticed you had already been staring at him. ‘just, a little um, too loud. yeah.’
‘yeah, i agree.’ you added, putting the half empty can down on the counter. ‘i’m surprised you managed to fit so many people in here.’
‘i have my ways.’ yuma answered, a grin plastered to his face as he finished his drink. ‘but alas, we have a problem. a huge, ginormous one, if i do say so myself.’
both you and jo looked at him with the exact same expression — brows furrowed in confusion, heads tilted slightly to the side. yuma chuckled under his breath at the sight.
‘we’re running out of alcohol. snacks, too.’
‘that seems like the hosts problem.’ jo mumbled, voice quiet. and yet both you and yuma heard it somehow - his best friend shooting him a glare while you giggled quietly at his remark.
you giggled. at something he said. and in that moment asakura jo felt like that was the greatest thing that has ever happened to him — his biggest triumph, an achievement he could be proud of forever.
yuma broke his quiet celebration with a cough, seemingly clearing his throat.
‘it is in fact your problem as well, my dear jojo.’ he said dramatically, poking jo’s arm in an almost cat-like manner. ‘wanna know why?’
‘no.’
‘because you, my trusted friend, my right hand, my second in command, my future best man, will be given the task of restocking my fridge with beer.’
‘you didn’t have to use so many… titles.’ jo said, looking as miserable as ever upon hearing his friend’s words. and yet, after pondering on the idea for a while longer, he realised this could actually be a perfect opportunity for him. a perfect opportunity to leave the crowded apartment and get some alone time to recharge his batteries before having to come back to this absolute hellhole.
his eyes met with yuma’s for just a second before he sighed, agreeing to his friend’s request.
‘oh, one more thing.’ yuma added before jo was able to leave, and by the smile plastered to his face he knew that his best friend was about to say something he could suffer the consequences of pretty soon.
‘take someone with you. might be hard carrying all the bags by yourself.’
jo’s initial reaction was to groan and mumble something about how he can do it himself, no help needed. he wanted to say he’s good on his own and leave the apartment as soon as humanly possible, getting to experience the peace and quiet and the fresh air the outside could provide him with. alone. no people in sight, no unnecessary interactions.
‘i can help you, if you want.’ you said over the loud music, and all of a sudden jo was nodding profusely, the sight greatly humoring his best friend as he agreed almost instantly.
‘perfect.’ yuma muttered to himself quietly, eyes scanning as yours and jo’s figures disappeared into the crowd, heading for the exit to the apartment.
his plan was going well — but from that moment on, everything was in jo’s hands.
you noticed the way jo’s posture shifted the moment he stepped outside the building — finally taking in a deep breath, the fresh air filling his lungs as his muscles loosened up, visibly more comfortable without the crowds invading his personal space.
‘not a fan of parties, huh?’ you asked, a small smile on your face as you walked, pace matching his despite his limbs being much longer. jo nodded, a soft hum escaping his lips, hands in his pockets as his gaze landed on you for a quick second before looking away. you didn’t mind his quietness at all — in fact, it made you feel more at ease, more… comfortable. familiar somehow, too. even though you hadn’t known him well at all, his silence felt cozy in the same way a warm blanket feels on an autumn rainy evening.
the night sky illuminated his face with a gentle light, features glowing in the moonlight. you noticed them ever since you first met him — his face must’ve been sculpted by angels themselves for it to look this perfect. you let your gaze linger on him as you walked: eyes tracing his sharp jawline, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, the pinkish shade of his lips, a pair of the kindest looking eyes you’ve ever seen.
a pair of eyes which was, in fact, staring right back at you.
you could feel your face heat up, praying that the dim lights of the stars and the moon weren’t enough for him to see the pinkish shade of your cheeks, the colour deepening with each passing second. thankfully for you and your embarrassment of getting caught, you noticed the store in front of you, legs speeding up the pace of your walk immediately almost as if they were closing in a few minutes — a poor attempt at hiding your flustered state, and yet it somehow worked.
jo caught up to you inside the store — the sudden contrast of the bright, pale white lights inside the supermarket hurting his eyes at first before he managed to adjust to them. his phone buzzed in his pocket and he instinctively reached to check the notification walking up to your figure already standing at the alcohol aisle.
he stopped in his tracks before he reached you.
a notification from yuma. a single message from his best friend.
‘fuma brought us drinks so you don’t need to get any, dw. enjoy some alone time with your crush, coward ;3’
‘oh.’ he uttered quietly, the message staring right back at him from the phone screen. and then it clicked.
it was all part of yuma’s plan to get him to finally confess — jo couldn’t help but shake his head in disbelief at how he hasn’t figured it out earlier. but then again, maybe it was due to the fact that his mind was currently occupied entirely by you; and has been for quite some time by now, making his senses duller when it came to his best friend’s antics and schemes.
‘did something happen?’ your voice tore jo out of his thoughts, eyes dropping to your face as you suddenly appeared in front of him, brows furrowed in a worried expression. ‘you stopped in your tracks all of a sudden.’
his lips curved up in a small smile, fingers threading through his hair as he exhaled with a sigh.
‘oh, it’s nothing. just a text from yuma.’ he explained, trying to seem unaffected — and yet his expression betrayed him.
‘just… a text?’ you questioned, looking at him with curiosity. jo sighed once more.
‘he doesn’t need us to buy the alcohol anymore.’ his voice was quiet, much closer to a murmur than anything else, laced with a hint of something resembling disappointment — as if the information given to him by his best friend meant you’d soon come back to the party and his time with you would be over.
you smiled, lips curving up in a way which made jo’s breath hitch in his throat for a second — then let out the most beautiful laugh he’s ever heard.
‘oh thank god.’ you stated, letting out a breath of relief. ‘that means we don’t have to go back there, right?’
‘what?’
‘we can go somewhere else instead of back to the party, because we have no obligations of bringing in alcohol for the rest of these drunkards.’ you explained, voice with a newfound hint of excitement. ‘unless you want to go back there, of course.’
asakura jo has never shook his head faster.
‘absolutely not.’ he murmured, still shaking his head as he did so. ‘do you, um, have something in mind? something else we could do.’
‘i do, in fact.’ you smiled, taking a step towards him, your hand reaching out to grab his. although a little frazzled at first, he complied with a smile on his face — letting you drag him to wherever you wanted to go without even knowing the direction you were heading in, without any knowledge about the destination or the plans you had in mind. it was different than what he would usually do — different from his routine, his perfectly curated bubble of quiet aloneness. and yet with you, like this, different felt good.
the night sky was perfectly clear, not a cloud in sight as you stepped outside, your fingers intertwined with jo’s as you led him towards a small hill in the park close to the store, a local favorite for kids in winter. and yet at this time, on a warm spring night, it was perfectly empty — only you and jo remaining as the night sky hovered above you, stars a beautiful artwork for you to admire in the peace and quiet this place provided.
you sat down on the grass and jo followed right after, allowing himself the courage of sitting right next to you, leaving little to no space in between — just enough for you to move away if need be, and yet close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating off of the side of your body. he sat there in perfect silence as you gazed up at the stars with a smile on your face: the brightest smile jo has ever seen, one which shone so hard that even the sun itself was jealous of the sheer power and beauty it held.
‘can i?’ you uttered, body relaxing slightly as you leaned closer to jo. he could only nod in response — a smile on your face as you noticed his answer, head resting on his shoulder as you scooted up closer to him. your gaze still focused on the stars above you, eyes tracing every constellation almost as if you’d stared up at them millions of times and knew them by heart.
and yet jo didn’t look up even once — not when the real star was right there beside him, with her head on his shoulder and a dreamy look in her eyes.
‘the moon is beautiful, isn’t it?’ you mumbled. jo nodded, muttering a quiet ‘yes’ in response.
but his eyes stayed on you.
he wanted to speak up — wanted to say something about his feelings, about how he’d love to take you out if you’d allow him to, how he’d do anything just to get a chance — and yet he felt the moment was too perfect to ruin it by interrupting the silence between you. so he left it unsaid. having you so close to him was enough to make him happy, even if it meant his feelings would stay hidden for just a little while longer. but he didn’t mind waiting, not even in the slightest. he’d do it all one day, at his own pace, on his own conditions.
