Jude And Cardan - The Cruel Prince

REMEMBER ME IN SUMMER — SATORU GOJO

pairing — one night stand!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary — six months ago, you left satoru gojo's apartment before sunrise, thinking you'd never see him again. now, trapped in a beach house for a weekend with mutual friends, you're forced to face the man who doesn't seem to remember that night—or does he? between shared walls, heated touches, and games of pretend, you're starting to think maybe one night wasn't enough after all. but in a house full of friends, some things are better left in the past… right?

word count — 9.5 k

genre/tags — beach house AU, summer romance, one night stand to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, tension, awkward reunions, friends gathering, miscommunication, beach vibes, satoru is a little menace in this one

warnings — 18+ ONLY. contains explicit sexual content, alcohol consumption, all characters aged up (mid 20s), language

author's note — hi everyone ! this fic came out of nowhere, and i literally wrote it in three days, but i really love the idea and the summer vibes in this one, even tho i wrote it while it was literally snowing outside, but somewhere on earth it's summer rn, so why not post it lol. hope you enjoy this mess of a summer romance story as much as i enjoyed writing it ! <3 (credit/art)

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The last person you expected to see in Okinawa was Satoru Gojo.

Yet there he was, lounging on the deck of the beach house like he belonged there, white hair catching the sunlight as he laughed at something someone had said. Your heart tumbled over itself as memories of that night six months ago flooded back unbidden.

"You okay?" Maki nudged you with her elbow. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

More like the ghost of past bad decisions. "I'm fine," you managed, gripping your weekend bag tighter. "Wasn't expecting so many people."

The beach house was supposed to be a simple weekend getaway with close friends. But somewhere between planning and execution, it had turned into a "friends of friends" situation to fill the eight-bedroom house Okkotsu's family had offered.

"Yeah, Yuta's cousin's boyfriend invited some people to fill the space," Maki explained, completely unaware of your internal crisis. "That's Satoru over there, by the way. He's actually pretty fun once you get past the whole—" She gestured vaguely at all of him.

You wanted to laugh. Or cry. Maybe both. Because you were already very familiar with how "fun" Satoru Gojo could be.

Six months ago, you'd met him at a bar in Tokyo. He'd been charming and gorgeous, all easy smiles and playful banter. One drink had turned into several, flirting had turned into kissing, and kissing had turned into...

Well.

You'd slipped out of his apartment before dawn, leaving nothing but a lipstick stain on his collar and a dip in his pillow. It had seemed like the right thing to do at the time. You weren't looking for anything serious, and someone like him definitely wasn't the settling down type.

Now, watching him chat lively with your friends like the universe's cruelest joke, you wondered if you should have at least left your number.

"Girl," Maki waved her hand in front of your face. "You sure you're okay?"

Before you could answer, Satoru looked up. His eyes met yours across the deck, and for a moment, your heart stopped. 

But there was no recognition in those sea blue eyes. No hint that he remembered the way you'd gasped his name in the dark, the way his hands had traced every inch of your skin, the way he'd whispered "stay" against your shoulder just before you'd fallen asleep.

He just smiled politely, the same smile he’s probably giving everyone else too, and went back to his conversation.

Right. Of course he didn't remember. You were probably just one in a long line of one-night stands for someone like him. The thought shouldn't hurt as much as it did.

"Come on," Maki said, tugging you towards the house. "Let's get settled in before the others arrive.”

Up close, the beach house was even more impressive. A sprawling three-story mansion of white stone and floor-to-ceiling windows that caught the afternoon light like rippling water, a wraparound veranda with a cozy sitting area led to a private path down to the beach, lined with swaying palms and colourful flowers.

Inside, the house opened into a huge room with soaring ceilings and an open floor plan that made the space feel endless. Ocean views followed you everywhere through the massive windows, and the whole place smelled of salt and lemon.

"The bedrooms are upstairs," Maki said as she led you up a floating staircase. "Most of them are on the second floor, but there are two master bedrooms on the third."

The universe, it seemed, had a twisted sense of humor. Not only did you have to spend the weekend pretending you didn’t know how Satoru's brows draw together when he'd cum, but your room ended up right next to his—the two largest bedrooms on the top floor, sharing a wall and a connecting balcony. Of course.

Your room was bigger than your entire apartment in Tokyo, with a king-size bed draped in soft white linens. One wall was entirely glass, offering an unobstructed view of the ocean, while the other walls were decorated with pictures and minimalist art.

"My god, the view’s amazing!" Maki gushed and threw open the balcony doors. The sound of waves immediately filled the room, along with fresh, salty ocean air. "You can see the whole beach from here." 

But you were too busy staring at the wall next to you, where a door that must lead to Satoru's room was hidden behind a cupboard. You could hear muffled movement from his room, the sound of his laugh drifting through the wall that suddenly felt far too thin and your mind helpfully supplied memories of other sounds he could make, and you wondered if it was too late to fake some sudden illness and go home.

"Yeah," you said, dropping onto the edge of the bed. "Amazing."

Maki flopped down beside you, bouncing slightly on the plush mattress. "I know I've been here like five times already with Yuta, but it never gets old." She rolled onto her stomach and rested her chin on her hands. "Usually it's just us and his family, maybe a few cousins. This is the first time we're doing a friend group thing."

You tried to focus on her words instead of the sound of suitcases being wheeled into the room next door. "How long have you and Yuta been coming here?"

"Since we started dating three years ago. His family does this whole summer tradition thing." She smiled. "First time I came, I was so nervous I barely left the room. Now it feels like a second home." She sat up, crossing her legs. “And since his parents said we could use it this weekend, we thought why not invite friends.”

Through the wall, you could hear male voices chatting and laughing, followed by the sound of a door sliding open. Probably the balcony doors. Your shared balcony. Where he could walk past your windows at any time.

“You’re okay with this, right? Yuta’s friends are actually really fun once you get to know them. Especially Satoru, even tho he can be a pain in the ass.” Your stupid heart tumbled over itself once more at his name. "And single, if you're interested. I could—"

"No!" The word came out louder than intended, and you heard the conversation next door pause briefly. Lowering your voice, you added, "I mean, no thanks. Not really looking for anything right now."

Maki gave you a strange look. "You sure you're okay? You've been weird since we got here."

"Just tired from the drive," you lied and stood up. "Maybe I'll take a quick shower before everyone else arrives."

"Okay..." She didn't sound convinced but got up anyway. "I should go find Yuta anyway, make sure he's not letting Satoru destroy any of Yuta's mum's favourite vases."

You waited until she left before falling with your face first onto the bed with a groan. Perfect. Not only did you have to spend the weekend next door to your one night stand who might or might not remember you, but now your best friend was trying to set you up with him.

Through the wall, you heard Satoru laugh at something, the sound familiar enough to make your chest ache. 

It was going to be a very long weekend.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 

You'd barely finished unpacking when Yuji burst into your room without knocking. "Hey! We're setting up a net for beach volleyball. You in?"

"Ah, I don't really—"

"Everyone's playing!" He was already on his way back to the door. "Even Megumi, and you know how he is about fun."

Before you could form a proper excuse, Maki appeared behind him. "Come on, it'll be fun, the sun is out and it’s better than hiding up here all afternoon."

And that's how you found yourself trudging down to the beach, trying to convince yourself this was fine. Totally fine. Just a fun game of volleyball with friends. Nothing to worry about.

But then the boys started stripping off their shirts. It was like watching some ridiculous scene out of Top Gun as they all shed their shirt in the afternoon heat. But it was Satoru who made your brain go silent completely. 

He pulled his shirt off, and suddenly you were having vivid flashbacks to exactly how that toned chest felt under your hands. The sun caught his hair like a halo, and when he stretched his arms over his head, the muscles in his back shifted in ways that should not make your knees so weak, but here you were, rooted to the spot, your pulse racing as if it had a mind of its own.

"You're staring," Maki whispered next to you.

"I'm not," you said, even though you definitely were. How could you not? It was like someone had taken every beach volleyball scene from every summer movie ever and combined them into one ridiculous moment.

Teams were forming, and with an uneven number, you volunteered to sit this round out. Not that you were particularly eager to participate in the first place. You were perfectly happy watching from the safety of your beach towel, where the risk of accidentally brushing against Satoru's unnecessarily perfect body was thankfully minimized.

The game started, and it quickly became clear that everyone was taking it way too seriously, as Satoru and Yuji seemed to be in some sort of competition to see who could spike the ball more impressively. 

"Show off," you muttered to yourself as Satoru delivered a rather dramatic jump serve, the ball landing dangerously close to your foot. But he must have heard you, because he caught your eye with a wink that made your stomach flutter. "Like what you see?"

"I've seen better," you said before you could stop yourself.

His eyebrows shot up and a slow smile spread across his face. "Have you now?"

Oh god. Were you flirting? This was definitely flirting. You needed to stop staring at the way sweat was making his skin glisten and focus on... literally anything else.

"Pay attention!" Nobara yelled, and Satoru barely managed to dodge the ball she'd spiked directly at his head.

The game continued, growing more competitive with each round. You had to admit, it was entertaining watching your friends become more and more dramatic with each point. One of Yuta’s cousins and Yuji had some sort of rivalry going on, while Maki and Nobara were trash-talking each other.

But it was Satoru who kept drawing your attention. The way he moved was almost unfair and you found yourself following the drops of sweat as they made their way down his neck, remembering how that skin had tasted under your tongue.

"Incoming!"

You looked up just in time to see the volleyball heading straight for your face. Before you could react, Satoru dove in front of you and caught the ball just inches from your nose. The movement sent him sprawling across your legs, his face entirely too close to yours.

You blinked at him for a few moments, then whispered, "Thank you.” But the words came out too soft, almost like they had that night in Tokyo when he'd helped you into a taxi and then convinced you not to take it and instead come home with him.

Time seemed to slow, the crashing waves and voices of the others fading into white noise as Satoru's eyes met yours. For a moment, something flickered in those blue depths—a flash of recognition, perhaps even remembrance. 

His breath caught, barely noticeable, and his hand on your leg tightened ever so slightly. You watched his eyes, saw the exact moment his gaze dropped to your lips, and suddenly you were back in that Tokyo bar, both of you caught in that same magnetic pull.

"You're welcome," he said, his voice so low that only you could hear it. There was something in his tone, a hint of question, like he was trying to place a hazy dream. His thumb brushed against your skin, possibly by accident, possibly not, sending shivers up your spine.

The moment stretched, taut as a bowstring, thick with shared memories—memories you weren't even sure he had. Then someone yelled "Dinner!" from the direction of the house, and the spell broke.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

The sun was setting by the time everyone had showered and gathered around the huge dining table on the deck. Fairy lights twinkled overhead and the sound of the waves could be heard in the background as the chaos of fifteen people trying to organize a meal unfolded.

You'd taken extra care getting ready, telling yourself it was just because of the salt and sand, not because of the way Satoru had looked at you on the beach. You'd chosen a light summer dress that happened to be the exact shade of blue as his eyes—pure coincidence, of course—and had let your hair dry naturally in the sea breeze.

Yuta ended up ordering way too much from the local seafood restaurant, you concluded as you surveyed the spread of food on the table. 

You ended up squeezed between Maki and Megumi, which should have been a relief. Instead, you found yourself very aware of Satoru sitting directly across from you, his hair still slightly damp from his shower, wearing a loose white linen shirt that he should really button up and stop teasing the entire table with glimpses of his toned chest.

"Pass the crab?" he asked, and when you handed him the plate, your fingers brushed. The contact sent a shiver through you, and you could have sworn you saw his breath catch. But then he was turning to laugh at something Yuji said, and you were left wondering if you'd imagined the whole thing.

"—and then he just fell face first right into the sand!" Yuji was saying, gesturing wildly with his chopsticks. "You should have seen it!"

"We were all there, literally two hours ago," Megumi deadpanned.

"The game was rigged anyway," Nobara said, reaching for another plate of grilled shrimp. "You can't put Mr. Perfect over here on a team and expect it to be fair." She jerked her thumb in Satoru's direction.

"What can you do?" Satoru said, his eyebrows knitted together, but a grin played on his lips. "I just happen to be naturally gifted." And then his eyes caught yours once more across the table. 

Heat crept up the back of your neck as you remembered how he'd felt when he'd sprawled across your legs, his skin sun warm and slightly sandy. How his touch had lingered just a fraction too long to be casual. 

Something had changed in his expression, so subtle that anyone else might have missed it. But you'd spent hours that night memorizing his faces. His smirk when he had you right on the edge, his soft smile when you were trembling beneath him, the way his eyes darkened just before he—

Maki snorted. "Yeah, sure." And you looked over at her, breaking the eye contact before you could do something stupid like climb across the table and find out if he tasted as good as you remembered.

When the dinner was over, Nobara suggested to play drinking games, truth or dare to be specific, to which "What are we, fifteen?" Megumi commented but Maki already chimed in with "Never have I ever" and so it was decided.

Your stomach dropped. The last thing you needed was a drinking game where people confessed their secrets. Especially with the way Satoru kept looking at you, like he was one memory away from connecting dots you really didn't want connected.

"I think I'll pass," you said, pushing your plate away. "The sun really did take it out of me."

You gathered your plates and the sound of the others setting up their drinking game followed you into the kitchen—Yuji's voice carrying over everyone else's as he argued about rules, Nobara shouting something about "no questions about exes," and Megumi's long drawn out sighs.

A salty ocean breeze swept into the kitchen through the open wall of windows overlooking the water as you rinsed your plate. "You know," a voice came from behind you, making you jump, "I was starting to think you hate me."

Your heart skipped a beat. You didn't need to turn around to know it was Satoru—would recognize that voice anywhere, had spent months trying to forget how it sounded when it was rough after he’d cum. But you turned anyway, finding him leaning against the doorframe and the kitchen suddenly felt so much smaller. 

"What?" The word came out embarrassingly breathless.

"Let me rephrase, for someone who doesn't hate me, you're doing an impressive job of avoiding me."

"I'm not avoiding you.” You turned back to the sink. "I'm doing dishes."

"Sure. The dishes." His voice got closer, and you could feel the heat of him just behind you. "Though I have to wonder why someone would work so hard to avoid someone they've never met before."

Your hands stilled under the running water. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You've barely looked at me all day." He was close enough now that you could smell his perfume that had lingered on your clothes for days after that night. "Want to tell me what I did to deserve the cold shoulder? Because usually, I at least remember if I've pissed someone off."

Your heart pounded so loudly you were sure he could hear it, but at the same time the irony of his words made you want to laugh. "You haven't done anything," you said, which was technically true. He hadn't done anything wrong. Except maybe be too good in bed and then forget about it entirely.

"No?" His voice dropped lower, and you could feel his breath on your neck. "Then why—" He cut himself off. "Wait. Have we met before?"

You spun around, hands dripping water onto the floor. The motion brought you chest to chest with him, trapped between his body and the counter. "No," you said, too quickly, way too quickly. "Definitely not."

"You sure about that? Because you seem familiar—"

"Must just have one of those faces."

He moved closer still, one hand braced on the counter beside your hip, effectively caging you in. "Is that so? Because I’m sure I’d remember a pretty one like yours." You felt your breath catch in your throat, every nerve in your body screaming. He was going to kiss you, wasn't he? You should probably do something. Like move. Or breathe.

But then he simply stepped back, his smile widening. "Sorry. Must have mistaken you for someone else,” he said and the loss of his warmth felt like whiplash, leaving you cold despite the summer heat that still lingered in the air. You watched him retreat towards the door, casual as anything, like he hadn't just turned your world sideways.

Through the open door, laughter spilled in from the deck, breaking the spell that had held you captive. Satoru paused in the doorway for a moment, silhouetted against the warm light from outside, before disappearing back into the noise of your friends.

You stayed at the sink, trying to convince yourself that the heat in your cheeks was just from the summer air and ignoring the way your heart refused to settle in your chest. What had just happened? You had no idea. But one thing was painfully certain.

This weekend was going to be a long one.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

Next morning, you decided to get up early and have your coffee on the beach before anyone else was awake. Sleep had been hard to come by anyway, with too many thoughts of certain one night stands keeping your mind racing. 

Dawn was just beginning to break over the horizon, painting the sky in orange and gold watercolours and the ocean stretched out before you, quiet and calm, each small wave catching the early light like diamonds.

You'd wrapped yourself in an oversized cardigan against the morning chill, bare feet buried in sand that was still cool from the night before. And of course, because the universe hated you, that's when Satoru appeared.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked, settling into the sand beside you without invitation.

You clutched your coffee mug tighter. "Something like that."

"Yeah, me neither." He stretched his long legs out in front of him, and you definitely didn't notice how his shorts rode up slightly, definitely weren't thinking about how those thighs had felt under your hands. "Keep having these weird dreams."

"Oh?"

"Mmm." As he turned to look at you, the rising sun painted his profile gold, catching his eyelashes. There was something different about him in this light — softer somehow, more like the man who'd asked you to stay than the one who'd cornered you in the kitchen last night. "About a girl in a black dress. Red lipstick. The most amazing laugh I've ever heard."

Your heart stopped.

"Funny thing is," he continued casually, "I can never quite see her face in the dreams. But I remember how she tasted. How she felt pinned beneath me. How she clenching around my fingers. How she said my name when she—"

"Stop," you whispered.

"Why?" His voice was softer now. "Because you don't want to talk about that night? Or because you thought I wouldn't remember?"

You stared at the ocean, unable to meet his gaze. "You didn't seem to yesterday."

"Don’t be stupid. I recognized you the moment you walked into the beach house."

Your coffee nearly slipped from your hands. "What?"

"Did you really think I wouldn't remember the girl who stole my favourite shirt on her way out the door?"

Heat flooded your cheeks, you totally forgotten about the shirt. "Then yesterday, in the kitchen—"

"I wanted to see how long you'd keep pretending." He smiled, the bastard had the audacity to smile at you when he revealed that he was playing you the whole time. "You're cute when you're nervous, you know that?”

"You're mocking me."

"Mocking you?" His eyebrows rose. Then he leaned closer to you, but you still refused to look at him. "I spent six months trying to find the girl with the kind of laugh that makes you feel drunk just hearing it, who left before I could ask for her number—" 

"It was just one night," you interrupted.

"Was it? Because I distinctly remember asking you to stay."

"I couldn't."

"Couldn't? Or wouldn't?"

You finally met his gaze fully, and immediately wished you hadn't. Because he was looking at you the same way he had that night. He was enjoying this, wasn't he? Playing with you, teasing you, making you feel like a flustered schoolgirl. 

"Does it matter?" you asked.

"You're really a bit slow, aren't you?"

You wanted to protest, to tell him exactly what you thought of his arrogant everything, but then Maki's voice carried across the beach, "Breakfast! Come and get it before Yuji eats everything!"

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

The breakfast table was just as chaotic as the dinner the night before. Fifteen people crammed around the table had that effect, especially with Yuji already piling his plate high with pancakes while Nobara complained about him taking too many. 

You'd barely settled into an empty chair when Satoru slid into the seat next to you, as if he hadn't just admitted that he'd been playing jokes on you the whole day before. 

"Can you pass me the syrup?" he asked innocently, but there was nothing innocent about the way his thigh pressed against yours under the table. 

You handed him the bottle without looking at him, trying to focus on pouring your coffee without spilling it everywhere. Which was made all the more difficult when his hand found your knee under the table.

"So what's everyone's plans for today?" Maki asked, passing around a plate of fresh fruit.

You tried to concentrate on the conversation, you really did. But Satoru's hand was inching higher up your thigh, and your brain was shorted out. You kicked him under the table, aiming for his shin.

He didn't even flinch, just smiled wider and continued whatever conversation he was having with Megumi about later activities, all while his fingers danced along the hem of your shorts. You felt a sudden surge of heat, definitely not from the summer sun.

"You okay?" Nobara asked suddenly. "You look a bit flushed."

"Fine!" Your voice came out higher than intended as Satoru's fingers skimmed just slightly under the edge of your shorts. "Just... hot."

"It is pretty warm this morning," Satoru agreed, his tone perfectly pleasant even as his thumb pressed into that sensitive spot on your inner thigh that he somehow remembered. The bastard. You kicked him again, harder this time.

"Did someone just kick the table?" Maki looked around suspiciously.

"Must have been the wind," you said stupidly.

You grabbed his wrist under the table, intending to push his hand away, but he just interlaced his fingers with yours and kept them there on your thigh. It was like he was asserting dominance, staking his claim, and you were suddenly trapped.

"Hey, are you sure you're okay?" Yuji asked through a mouthful of pancakes. "You're acting weird."

"Totally fine," you managed. "Just didn't sleep well."

"Hmm, me neither," Satoru chimed in, his voice all false innocence. "Must be all these weird dreams I keep having." You dug your nails into his hand in warning, but he just squeezed your hand in response, his grip tightening.

"Dreams?" Nobara asked.

"Oh, you know," Satoru began thoughtfully, "the kind that keep you up all night, thinking about... things that got away."

You were going to murder him. Slowly. Possibly with the butter knife you were currently gripping way too tight.

"That's... weirdly poetic for you," Maki said, raising an eyebrow.

"You wouldn't want to know,” he replied, and you felt his fingers inch just slightly higher once more, making you jump and bang your knee on the table.

"Jesus, what is wrong with you two this morning?" Nobara asked, looking between you and Satoru.

Under the table, you finally managed to grab his hand in yours and hold it still. But that backfired when he started playing with your fingers instead, his thumb brushing across your knuckles in a way that made you gasp. You definitely wanted to kill him. Right after you figured out how to breathe normally again.

"So, beach day? I wanna go snorkelling," Yuji said, thankfully drawing attention away from whatever was going on under the table, and everyone agreed. JJust then, Satoru freed his hand from yours and placed it back on your knee before trailing it up your thigh. 

Okay, nope this had to end now.

"I need more coffee," you announced abruptly, standing up so fast your chair scraped against the deck.

"I'll help," Satoru offered, already rising.

"No!" The word came out too sharp, making everyone look at you strangely. "I mean, I'm good. Thanks."

You practically fled into the kitchen, your skin still tingling where he'd touched you. Through the window, you could see him chatting with the others, looking completely unaffected while you were here trying to remember how to make your heart beat normally.

When is this weekend going to end?

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

"You sure you're okay?" Maki asked, swimming up beside you. "You've been weird all morning. Is the sun too much?"

"I'm fine," you said for what felt like the hundredth time today. "I’m not used to be around so many people."

The water was crystal clear, stretching out in various shades of blue that seemed to go on forever. Everyone had eagerly jumped into snorkeling, with Yuji and Nobara already in a heated competition about who could spot the most fish.

You adjusted your mask for the tenth time, trying to focus on anything except how good Satoru looked in just swim shorts. He was a few meters away, the sunlight catching the droplets of water that clung to his ridiculously toned shoulders.

My God. You needed distance. You needed space to breathe, to think, to do anything other than stare at him.

"If you say so." Maki didn't look convinced. "But tell me if something’s bothering you, okay?"

If only she knew. "Sure."

"Guys, come look at this!" Yuji called from where he was floating near some corals. "Rainbow fish!" 

Everyone swam over to where he was pointing, and you had to admit, the sight was beautiful. Countless colourful fish swam through the coral, creating a vibrant palette under the water.

You followed the fish as a sudden pressure against your calf made you flinch. Satoru. He had brushed against your leg. It could have been an accident, a mere consequence of the crowded water, but somehow, it felt like anything but. You knew better. Nothing about Satoru was ever accidental.

You drifted slightly away from the group, desperately needing to put some distance between yourself and Satoru. The vibrant corals blurred into streaks of colour as you swam further from the group, the shouts of Yuji and Nobara fading.

The water a bit away from them was deeper, a darker shade of blue. As you peered down, you noticed the sandy ground was dotted with small stones, and a different kind of life seemed to thrive here. Sea anemones swayed gently in the current, and schools of silver fish, smaller than the ones near the reef, darted in and out of the anemones.

You floated on your back for a moment, gazing up at the sky, a vast expanse of pale blue flecked with fluffy white clouds as the sun warmed your face. It was so peaceful, and you were happy for the small pause amidst the chaos of the house.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

You startled at Satoru's voice right behind you, nearly inhaling water through your snorkel. He'd somehow managed to swim up without you noticing, and now he was close enough that his arm brushed yours in the water.

"What are you doing?" you hissed, pulling your snorkel out.

"I know a better spot.” He nodded towards a more secluded area around the curve of the beach. "If you're interested."

You glanced back at the others, but they were all absorbed in whatever Yuji had found. "I don't think—"

"Come on," he said, already swimming away. "Don't you trust me?"

"Not even a little bit." But found yourself following him anyway.

He led you around a small outcropping of rocks, the current tugging gently at your fins, to a quieter part of the reef. His hand on your arm gently guided you through the water. The water here was somehow even clearer, as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a breathtaking underwater scenery with colourful coral formations that created a labyrinth of archways and caverns with small fish swimming in between.

"How did you—"

"I came here earlier this morning," he said, treading water close to you. "While you were pretending to ignore me after breakfast."

"I wasn't—" You cut yourself off as he dove under the surface, the sunlight playing across his back as he swam deeper.

You followed him down, your breath taken away by the sight. This part of the reef was like something out of a documentary. Swarms of tropical fish swirled around you in ribbons of colour, and the coral itself seemed to shine in the filtered sunlight.

When you surfaced, Satoru was watching you with an annoyingly knowing smile. "Worth following me?"

"It's alright," you said, trying to sound unimpressed even though you were anything but.

He laughed. "You're still trying to play hard to get?"

"I'm not playing anything."

"No?" He swam closer, close enough that you could see droplets of water clinging to his eyelashes. "Then why did you follow me here?"

"To see the fish.”

"The fish." His voice was amused. "Sure. That's why you've been watching me all morning?"

"I have not—"

"You know," he cut you off, moving even closer, his body brushing against yours in the water. "You're pretty when you get all flustered. Just like that night in Tokyo. Same flush you had when I made you cum three times.”

Ha? Had he been keeping count or what? You frantically tried to replay that night in your head — there was the first time against his apartment door, then on the kitchen counter, and... oh god, he was right. The bastard had been counting. The smirk on his face told you he knew exactly what you were thinking about.

You splashed water at him. "We are not talking about Tokyo."

He wiped water from his face, grinning. "No? Should we talk about this morning instead? About how you nearly jumped out of your skin when I touched your—"

You dunked him mid-sentence.

He came up spluttering, pushing wet hair from his eyes. "Okay, I probably deserved that."

"You definitely deserved that."

But he laughed, and despite yourself, you found yourself laughing too. There was something infectious about him, something that made it hard to keep your walls up, dissolving your defenses with unnerving ease, like mist beneath the morning sun.

"We should head back," you said finally. "Before they come looking for us."

"Probably," he agreed, but made no move to leave. Instead, he floated closer, until his chest pressed against yours. "Or we could stay here a bit longer. I could remind you of all the other ways I can make you wet."

Heat flooded your body. "Satoru..."

"Yes?" His hands found your waist under the water, pulling you flush against him. One thigh slipped between yours, and you had to bite back a gasp at the friction. "You know, I still remember exactly how you sound when you're trying not to moan my name."

"We can't." But your body betrayed you, arching into his touch as his fingers skimmed along your ribs, dangerously close to your breast.

"Can't?" His lips ghosted over your lips, his thumb tracing circles on your hip under the water in a way that made you think of how those fingers had felt inside you. "Or are you afraid you won't be able to keep quiet this time?"

Before you could answer, Nobara's voice carried across the water. "Where did you guys go?"

You pushed away from him quickly, already swimming back towards the group. "Coming!"

"This isn't over," he called after you, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

"It never started!" you shot back, but you were smiling too.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

Satoru spent the rest of the afternoon driving you absolutely insane.

After snorkeling, he'd positioned his beach towel suspiciously close to yours, spending an unnecessary amount of time applying sunscreen to his chest and arms. His movements were deliberately slow, borderline pornographic, fingers sliding over muscle in a way that had you remembering exactly how those muscles had felt flexing under your tongue. 

You knew without a doubt he was putting on a show for you—every movement a reminder of how those arms had looked braced above you as he'd fucked you against his apartment door, how they'd felt pinning your wrists to his sheets.

During lunch, he'd somehow ended up next to you again, his bare thigh pressed hot against yours under the table like this morning had taught him nothing. Except this time, his hand didn't just rest on your knee. It spent the entire meal tracing patterns up your thigh, fingertips dancing dangerous close to where you'd been aching for him.

Your breath caught every time his hand "accidentally" slipped under the hem of your shorts, remembering how those fingers had curled inside you, how they'd made you beg.

The afternoon beach volleyball rematch was even worse. He kept finding excuses to touch you—steadying you with a hand on your waist when you stumbled in the sand (the same way he'd gripped your hips while taking you from behind), reaching around you to grab the ball (his breath hot on your neck like when he'd whispered how good you felt around him), his chest pressing against your back, closer than needed (making you remember how it felt to be pressed between him and that apartment door).

But dinner? Dinner was pure torture.

He'd shown up freshly showered, hair still damp and tousled in that way that made your fingers itch to grab it (like you had when he was between your thighs), wearing a dark blue linen shirt that he hadn't bothered to button properly once more and spent the entire meal finding new ways to make you squirm.

He'd catch your eye across the table and slowly lick sauce off his thumb, making you remember exactly how that tongue had felt when he'd spread you open. When passing dishes, his fingers would brush against yours unnecessarily long, making you shiver. At one point, he'd stretched his arms above his head, his shirt riding up to reveal his lower abs that had you gripping your fork so hard your knuckles turned white.

He knew exactly what he was doing, too—you could tell by the smug look on his face throughout the whole dinner. 

Thankfully, no one else seemed to notice anything amiss. They were all too busy with their own conversations, completely oblivious to the way he was systematically dismantling your sanity with nothing more than glances and touches.

Every time you thought you'd gotten yourself under control, he'd do something else — run his fingers through his hair the same way he had when you'd been on your knees in front of him, or bite his lip in a way that had you crossing your legs under the table. By dessert, you were a mess of sexual frustration and murderous impulses. 

He was enjoying this, the bastard. Testing your control, seeing how far he could push before you broke. And the most infuriating part? 

It was working. 

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

After dinner, everyone wandered into the living room in various states of food induced laziness. You'd barely managed to claim a corner of the big couch when Nobara disappeared into the kitchen, returning with an armful of wine bottles and a certain look in her eye that spelled trouble.

"No one move," she announced, setting the bottles on the coffee table. "I have an idea."

"Your ideas usually end with someone crying," Megumi commented from his spot on the floor.

"Or arrested," Maki added helpfully.

"Or both," you muttered, trying to ignore how Satoru had somehow appeared in the armchair closest to your corner of the couch. He'd rolled up his sleeves during dinner, forearms on full display, and you were having a hard time not staring at his fingers. Fingers that you knew from experience felt so good in your mouth to keep you from—

"Never have I ever!" Nobara's voice cut through your dangerous train of thought. A collective groan rose from the group.

"Not again," Megumi said, already trying to get up.

"Sit your ass down," Nobara commanded, pushing him back down. "We're bonding."

"We bonded plenty last night," you Yuta tried, but Nobara was having none of it and before you knew it, everyone agreed.

"Okay, I'll start easy," Yuji said, clearly excited despite his earlier protests. "Never have I ever cheated on a test."

Several people drank, including Satoru—and you, okay let’s be real. 

The questions started innocent enough. Never have I ever broken a bone. Never have I ever been arrested. Never have I ever dyed my hair. But as the wine flowed, the questions got progressively more suggestive.

"Never have I ever kissed someone of the same gender," Maki said, and half the circle drank. "Never have I ever faked it," was Nobara's contribution, and several people groaned but drank.

You were starting to feel a bit hazy, the wine making everything feel warm and soft around the edges. Which was dangerous, because Satoru kept looking at you like he was remembering exactly how you'd sounded that night when you definitely hadn't been faking anything.

"Never have I ever," one of Yuta’s cousins announced then, "had sex with someone in this room." For a moment, no one moved. Then Yuta and Maki drank, of course. And then Satoru raised his own glass slowly and took a long sip.

"Who?" Nobara shrieked, looking around the circle. "Satoru just drank, so someone else here has to—" Her gaze swept over everyone suspiciously.

"Someone's lying," Maki sang, already tipsy enough to find this hilarious. "Come on, fess up!"

You kept your face carefully neutral, even as you felt Satoru's eyes burning into you. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Not this time.

"Maybe it was before any of us knew each other," Yuji suggested, but Nobara shook her head.

"No way. Look at his face!" She pointed accusingly at Satoru. "He's got that look. You know, that 'I know something you don't know' look."

Satoru just smiled lazily from his armchair, swirling the wine in his glass. "Maybe I just like keeping you all guessing."

"You're a dumbass," Nobara said, but the group's attention was already shifting as Yuji launched into the next question, something about falling asleep at work.

You released a breath you hadn't realized you were holding, but made the mistake of glancing at Satoru and he gave you a look that sent a shiver of heat through you over his wine glass. 

God, you were going to murder him. Slowly. Painfully. Preferably with the very wine glass he was currently smirking into. 

Who did he think he was, just casually drinking like that, nearly exposing everything? He could have at least warned you, given you some sign he was about to blow up your secret. But no, he'd just taken that deliberate sip, probably getting hard on watching you squirm as you tried to keep your poker face. 

That sick bastard.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

Sleep was impossible. You'd been tossing and turning for hours, replaying the day's events in your mind—from that moment in the ocean to his deliberate almost-reveal during the game. The walls of this fancy beach house seemed paper thin at night, every small sound amplified in the darkness.

That's how you heard his door open around 2 AM, followed by quiet footsteps heading downstairs.

You waited a few minutes, telling yourself you were just thirsty, that going downstairs for water had nothing to do with knowing he was maybe down there. The wooden steps creaked softly under your bare feet as you made your way down.

Silvery moonlight streamed through the massive windows, creating silver patterns on the marble countertops of the kitchen. Satoru stood at the island, drinking water from a glass, looking unfairly handsome in just sleep shorts and a wrinkled t-shirt.

"Couldn't sleep?" he whispered when he spotted you.

"What's your game, Satoru?" You kept your voice equally low, padding closer. "That thing earlier? During never have I ever?"

"Game? I'm not the one who was afraid of drinking".

"Because unlike you, I don't feel the need to announce our business to everyone."

He set his glass down, turning to face you fully. "Our business? So you admit there's something to announce?"

"That's not—" You caught yourself before your voice could rise. "What are you trying to achieve here? With all the—" you gestured vaguely, "touching and teasing and almost exposing everything?"

He stepped closer, and suddenly the kitchen felt way too small, even though it was like three times the size of your Tokyo apartment. "Maybe I just want everyone to know that night wasn't as casual for me as you seem to think it was."

You felt the weight of his words settle in the quiet kitchen, heavy with meaning you weren't prepared to unpack while moonlight caught his features in a way that made him look softer, almost vulnerable.

"What are you talking about? It was only one night."

"Was it?" He moved closer, until you had to tilt your head back to keep eye contact. "Because I remember asking you to stay. I remember waking up to an empty bed and spent the next six months thinking about why you left."

"I... you were just saying that in the moment. People say lots of things in the moment."

"Do they?" His hand came up to brush a strand of hair from your face. "Is that why you ran? Because you thought I didn't mean it?"

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore how your skin prickled where he'd touched you. "Satoru..."

"You know what I think?" His voice dropped even lower, barely a whisper in the quiet kitchen. "I think you're scared. Not of me, but of the fact that you wanted to stay too."

"That's not—" But the words died in your throat as his thumb traced your jawline.

"Then why are you down here?" He was close enough now that you could feel the heat of his body against yours. "If it was just one night, just something casual, why did you follow me down here in the middle of the night?"

The counter pressed against your back—when had you started backing up?—and Satoru's arms came to rest on either side of you, caging you in. Position achingly familiar, reminding you of how this all started six months ago.

"I was thirsty," you said. You did not even believe yourself as you said it.

His laugh was barely a breath against your skin. "Liar."

And then his mouth was on yours, and god, you'd forgotten how good he was at this. His lips were soft but demanding, one hand sliding into your hair while the other gripped your hip, forcing you close against him. You gasped into the kiss, and he took the opportunity to deepen it, his tongue against yours in a way that made you forget your own name.

It was different from that first night—less urgent, but somehow more intense. He kissed you like he was trying to prove a point, like he was laying claim to every moment you'd denied him these past six months. His teeth caught your lower lip, and you had to bite back a whimper, too aware of the sleeping house above.

"Still want to pretend this is nothing?" he whispered against your mouth, and you could feel his smile when your only response was to pull him back down for another kiss.

His hands slid down to grip your thighs, lifting you onto the counter. You wrapped your legs around his waist, drawing him closer as his mouth moved to your neck, kissing your throat just the way you like it, just the way he somehow remembered.

"Someone could come down," you breathed, even as your fingers tangled in his hair.

"Then I guess you'll have to be quiet." His teeth grazed your skin, making you shiver. "Think you can manage that? Because I distinctly remember you being quite vocal last time."

You tightened your grip on his hair in return, but that just made him groan softly against your throat. "You're stupid."

"Mm, that's not what you said in Tokyo." His hands slid higher under your shirt, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts. "In fact, I remember you saying some very different things—"

You cut him off with another kiss, partly to shut him up and partly because you needed his mouth on yours like you needed air. His fingers teased along your ribs, your back, your thighs, touching you everywhere except where you desperately wanted him to.

But then his fingers found the edge of your underwear, and you had to bite his shoulder to keep from moaning as he slid his fingers inside you, making you cum all over his fingers in seconds—just like that night in Tokyo.

You were done, dizzy, breathless, clinging to him as he stripped your shorts and underwear down your legs. He pushed one leg up your chest as he lowered you back down onto the marble kitchen counter, your other leg still wrapped around his waist. His forehead pressed against yours as he thrust inside, hard, slow, perfect angle—just like that night in Tokyo.

He tossed you around, manhandled you, fucked you against the fridge, threw you onto the couch and fucked you there too. He whispered your name, his voice husky against your ear, every letter a caress, even as he picked up pace, even as his hand closed around your throat, even as you bit into the pillow below to muffle your screams as he made you cum again. Multiple times. In various positions. Using his own cum as a lube for the next round—just like that night in Tokyo.

Afterwards you laid outside on the veranda in a big chair you both shared, gazing up at the stars scattered across the deep velvet sky, countless and impossibly bright. A second later his lips found yours and another second later you were on top of him, underwear pushed to the side and your head thrown back as he watched you chase your release on his dick—just like that night in Tokyo.

And his hand found yours, intertwining your fingers as he ate you out on the stairs just before you wanted to go back to bed, but he wouldn't let you, making you cum again before he carried you off to the laundry room to fuck you one last time for sure good mesure—just like that night in Tokyo.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

Morning came way too early, sunlight streaming through windows you'd forgotten to close. Every muscle in your body ached in the most pleasant way, reminding you of exactly how many surfaces you and Satoru had christened last night. 

Yeah. You were definitely going to be feeling this for days. You winced slightly as you sat up — apparently kitchen counters weren't the most ergonomic choice for certain activities, or the stairs, or the laundry room, or... Okay, we get it.

When you finally made it downstairs, moving perhaps a bit more strangely than usual, Satoru was already at the breakfast table. Because of course he was, looking absolutely perfect and fullyfull rested in a fresh shirt, casually sipping his coffee like he hadn't spent half the night making you bite down on your fist to keep quiet.

"Well, someone looks rough," Nobara commented as you lowered yourself carefully into a chair. "Too much wine last night?"

You caught Satoru hiding a smirk behind his coffee cup. The bastard didn't even have the decency to look tired.

"Something like that," you muttered, reaching for the coffee pot and trying not to wince at the stretch. Your thighs burned in protest of the movement, and you could swear you saw Satoru's smile widening at your slight grimace.

"Must have been some wine," Nobara said, eyeing you suspiciously. "I don't remember you drinking that much during the game."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Yuji asked, looking concerned. "You're walking kind of funny."

"I'm fine, really," you managed. "Too much wine, that’s all."

Maki, who sat next to you, leaned in closer. "Your 'too much wine' is showing," she whispered, pointing to your collarbone. Your hand flew to your neck, suddenly remembering all the attention Satoru had paid to that area—especially that moment on the stairs when you'd begged him to finish what he'd started before anyone heard them, while he sucked a very dark bruise right above your collarbone.

You quickly buttoned up your cotton shirt higher, but from Nobara's growing grin, it was too late. But thankfully, no one commented on it.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

The rest of Sunday passed in a lazy haze, with everyone moving a bit slower thanks to varying degrees of wine headaches. Most of the day was spent sprawled out on beach chairs, hiding behind sunglasses and drinking coconut water that Yuta swore would help with hangovers (but, in fact, did not).

You dozed on and off under an umbrella, trying not to think about how your body still ached in several places from the night before, and enjoyed your last day in Okinawa before you'd return to work on Monday.

When evening rolled around and it was time to pack up, the house became a chaos of suitcases and forgotten phone chargers once more. You were struggling with your bag next to your car, trying to figure out the best angle to lift it into the trunk without stressing your still sore muscles, when Satoru suddenly appeared and took it from your hands without a word.

"I can manage," you protested, but he was already lifting it into your trunk with an effortless ease that really shouldn't be as attractive as it was.

"I'm sure you can," he said, closing your trunk with a soft thud. "But maybe I just want an excuse to do this." 

Before you could ask what 'this' was, he pressed a small folded piece of paper into your palm. You opened it to find a phone number written in his surprisingly neat handwriting.

"Since you didn't stay for it last time," he said softly.

"What makes you think I'll use it?"

"Because this time, you want to stay just as much as I want you to." He leaned closer, his voice dropping so only you could hear. "Besides, I believe we still have a few surfaces in my apartment left to explore."

You shoved his shoulder. "Stop." 

He caught your hand before you could push him again. "Use it. Please?" His voice held a note of softness, an unexpected tenderness that made your heart ache with a strange longing. You nodded, tucking the paper safely into your back pocket.

"Still not announcing anything to everyone tho," you warned as Maki called out that they were ready to leave.

"Yet," he said with an eye roll. Then, before you could react, he pulled you in for one last kiss. It was slower, deeper this time, his hands cupping your face as he kissed you, as if he was afraid he might forget the feel of your lips.

"Someone could see us," you whispered against his lips, even as your fingers curled into his shirt.

"I don't care," he murmured, one hand sliding down to your waist to draw you closer. "Let them see." He kissed you again, shorter this time but no less intense. "Besides, they'll find out soon enough when I take you to this little ramen place in Shibuya I've been wanting to show you."

You pulled back slightly. "Oh? Someone's confident about getting a second date."

"Third, technically," he said. "If we're counting Tokyo. And that thing against the washing machine last night."

"Those don't count.”

"Then I guess I'll have to make the next one special. Maybe dinner first. Then I can show you my apartment. Properly this time, not just the entrance hall and kitchen counter."

"Is that your way of asking me out?"

"That's my way of saying I'm not letting you disappear for six months again." He pressed a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth. "Use my number this time, yeah?"

"Satoru!" Yuji's voice carried across the driveway. "Stop making out and help me with these bags!"

Satoru laughed against your lips, stealing one more kiss before reluctantly pulling away. "Think about it. The ramen place. My apartment. All the surfaces we haven't used yet."

"Go help Yuji," you said, pushing him away even as you smiled. "Before he comes over here."

"Call me," he said, walking backwards with that stupidly handsome smile. "Or I'll just have to show up at your office. Make a big scene. Maybe bring flowers. Really embarrass you in front of all your coworkers."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try me!" He finally turned then to help with the bags, leaving you to shake your head, your lips still tingling from his kisses.

The drive home felt different somehow. Every now and then, your hand would drift to your pocket, fingers brushing over the folded paper with his number, making sure it was still there as the familiar roads back to Tokyo stretched ahead.

The beach house grew smaller in your rearview mirror until it disappeared completely, taking with it the memories of lazy afternoons under the summer sun and heated nights. But other things lingered—the ghost of his lips against yours, the warmth of his hands, the way he'd looked at you like you were something worth waiting for.

Maybe you'd call him tomorrow. Or maybe you'd wait a day or two, just to prove you could. But knowing you, you'd likely message him the moment you set foot in your apartment.

A smile tugged at your lips as you pulled onto the highway, the setting sun painting the sky in strokes of rose and  lavender. Whatever happened next, one thing was for sure — this weekend had changed everything.

And maybe, just maybe, that wasn't such a bad thing.

masterlist + support my writing

author's note — and that's a wrap on our beach house summer story ! thank you so much for reading :)) & thank you again to @/nanamis-baker for beta reading !!

for anyone wondering, yes, she kept the shirt. and yes, he definitely noticed when she wore it to their first proper date to that ramen spot in shibuya.

if you enjoyed this fic, please feel free to leave a comment or reblog. it means so much !! until next time. stay thirsty hydrated, my friends <3

ps: if you want to get notifications for future updates, you can join my taglist here.

tags — @fayuki @starmapz @starlightanyaaa @sxnkuna @cocomanga

@nanamis-baker @rosso-seta @sugurbo @chiyokoemilia @janbannan

@bloopsstuff @snowsilver2000 @ihearttoru @momoewn @yokosandesu

@90s-belladonna @fairygardenprincesss

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

HARD TO GET MASTERLIST

ran haitani has a reputation to uphold. yet it all comes crumbling down when his newest target has no interest in playing his little game. he’s now determined to add your heart to his collection — he is down to do anything

pairings. ran haitani x f!reader

tags. drinking, blackmail, angst, explicit sexual content, smoking, loss of virginity, bullying, introverted reader, misogyny, mental breakdowns, reader hurts ran’s pride & ego, slow burn

one , two , three , four , five , six , seven , eight , nine, ten , eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen

if you want to be tagged for this series : click here

[12:32 P M] part 2 - Haitini Ran

This is the hardest writer's block ever. Like I have it all there... just can't get it down. Please be patient with me. I'm working on the other HQ stuff - I promise. Just need to get Ran outta my head. Warning: Explicit smut; 18+; Ran is totally whooped First part

.

It’s been a whole week since Ran woke up hours later to Y/n still in his bed, in his arms while still buried deeply inside her.

He didn’t want to leave but unfortunately, worked called for him.

He woke her up to promise her he’ll be back, and it was difficult for him to leave when she was so adorable half-awake.

“Come here,” she mumbles, and he moved closer to her. Her fingers snake into his neatly combed hair and she pulls him closer to her lips, pecking his lips once. “Be safe.”

The entire week, all that was on his mind were her words she said to him that struck something inside of him.

“Would it be so bad if I was to get pregnant though?”

Ran buried himself inside of her three more times that first initial night. Once in the shower and once again in bed and lastly, in the morning before he had to leave. After the little oops, they both agree to disregard the condom since she would take the pill the following day.

He knew he shouldn’t take her words for it, there was a few things he feared in his life and getting a woman accidently pregnant was one of them.

But that didn’t stop him for cumming inside of her the rest of the times.

But Y/n answered him with a video recording herself taking the pill.

”Just in case you needed proof that I did take the pill.” The camera flips around to her and she smiles brightly before ending the video.

He returned as soon as he could and found her reading quietly in the library. He sat across from her, making small talks because… he didn’t know what else to say.

Other than, he wanted to fuck her again. And again. And again.

He never had any problems initiating it, but with Y/n… he felt like a stupid shy schoolboy with puppy eyes waiting for her to give him the green light.

His stupid leg wouldn’t stop shaking, he was really dying just for her to give him a sign… any sign that they can continue what they started the night before.

“What’s wrong, Ran?” Her voice was teasing, almost like she knew why he was antsy.

The boldness in him switched over and he lets out a frustrated chuckle before leaning back, to show her exactly what was bothering him. The tent between his crotch was prominent, couldn’t miss what was clearly wrong with him.

She bookmarked her page and stood up, holding a hand out to him. “Manjiro will be upset if we had some fun in here.”

. .

Ran stands at the end of the bed after discarding the third condom and stares at Y/n’s naked backside who is clearly fucked out on his bed.

Grabbing the comforters, they had kicked off, he pulls it over her body and then settles in beside her. Pushing her messy fanned out hair aside, “I…” he kisses her nape, “I gotta be on my turf for a few days. So,” he paused, lips pressing against her skin, “will you come with me and stay at my place?”

She shuffled around until she was facing him, her fingers trace along his sharp jaw. He lets out a groan when her thumb pad grazes against his Bonten tattoo on his throat. He noticed she touches it often. “Manjiro is going to be home the next couple of days… I don’t think I’m ready to tell him what we’re doing yet.” She looks into his eyes, “I’m not sure how he is going to take it.” She brushed his hair out of his eyes, “last time he was going to punch you.”

. .

Ran’s life shifted more than 360 degrees since meeting Y/n.

He was totally whooped.

Pussy whooped.

Smile whopped.

Touched whooped.

Just Y/n whooped.

And he didn’t care.

But unfortunately, he had to.

He was in charge of bring Rindou to the house for his surprise birthday party Y/n had planned. His younger brother had no idea and entered the house to only be surprised with the decoration and the confetti being shot at him.

He nearly pulled out his gun at everyone.

“Happy birthday Rindou!” Y/n shouts loudly with a big bright smile.

Ran looks at his brother, he can’t even remember the last time Rindou had a birthday party…

That didn’t involve strippers.

Y/n had wanted to throw him a party, spending time with decoration, food and a cake.

Ran leans on the counter as Y/n places the candles on the cake. “Thank you.”

This was the closest he could get to her without blowing their cover.

She looks at him with a confused look before looking away, before anyone could catch their lingering gaze. “For what?”

“Throwing this for Rin.” He twirls a finger at the whole ordeal. “This is his first birthday party without getting shitfaced.”

Looking towards the dinning table, Rindou was indeed just chatting, more than usual with the other executives and for the first time, not talking about gangs and work.

“Everyone should celebrate their birthdays, no matter how old you are.” She said, focusing on placing thirty-four candles on the cake. Very quietly, she whispers, “you’re staring, Ran.”

He breaks out of his trance and walks over to the fridge, pretending to look inside.

“Okay, it’s ready!” Y/n announces, holding the cake with the lit candles. She turns around to look at Ran, waiting for him to come over before saying, “in 3-2-1… happy birthday to you…”

. .

Ran lays in his bed, one arm behind his head and the other over his naked chest.

It has been over five minutes now since he sent her a text message: is there no work around this promise of yours? I promise… just cuddles…

Did she fall asleep already?

He couldn’t wait to go to settle for the night so he could have his dose of her…

But everyone decided to fucken stay the night and he has promised Y/n and her ridiculous request that they are not allowed to do anything funny if there are others in the house.

Even if they’re the only two on the left-wing side.

His phone buzzed and he quickly checked the message.

Cuddles, only?

His fingers never worked as fast; other than the times they were curled inside of Y/n’s tight pussy.

Yes. Promise. Cuddles only.

The three little dots show up and disappear on his screen, as if she is writing something and then deleting it and repeating it.

Come over or you want me to come over?

Ran never got out of bed so quickly before, throwing his door open and rushing over. He barged into Y/n’s room to find her standing by her bed in a spaghetti strap silk night-dress.

Twisting the lock in place, he walks towards her, only wearing his boxers.

She turns her body towards him, fingers twisting the material at her side. “What if… I want more than cuddles?”

Ran’s heart leaped and so did his cock. His mouth curved into a teasing grin, “are you going to break your own promise?”

She nods her head, a smile creeping on her lips.

He steps forward until he is standing in front of her, “well, who am I to deny you at all?” His finger hooks around her straps, tugging them off her shoulders until the thin materials pool at her feet. He nearly chokes when his eyes lower, noticing she wore not undergarments. “Fuck, you’re killing me already.”

“We’ll have to be quiet… nothing… rough…”

Tilting her chin upwards, he leans down to meet her lips. “Okay, quiet and… soft…”

Her mouth moves hungrily over his, “what are you doing to me, Ran?”

Ran picks her up easily and carries her onto her bed, setting her down and settling in between her legs. “The real question is what are you doing to me? I’m fucken whooped.”

He pulls his boxer briefs down and throws it off the bed. He strokes his already erect cock with one hand and groans, “fuck, do you have condoms over here?”

The look on her face tells him no.

He was about to grab his boxer briefs again to run to his room when she halts him, “I’m on the pill for a week now… we should be safe without a condom… if you’re okay with it. Otherwise, you can… pull out.”

Ran practically went brain dead and his cock took over. He has been dying to fuck her raw.

“Fuck pulling out…” he muttered, hovering over her. He leans down and kisses her, “no going back.” He guides the tip of his cock to her core and slowly pushes until his hips met hers. “Fuck, I miss you.”

Her eyes were shut, mouth ajar and heavy breath escaping. Her nose rubs his in a sweet intimate way. “Ran… Ran I missed you too.”

Ran rocks his hips in a slow and deep rhythm, quiet and soft.

God, he was making love to her.

. .

Ran wakes up to kisses.

“Wake up, you should return back to your room…” Her nose rubs his. “As much as I would love for you to stay here…”

“Fuck them.” He mutters, catching her jaw still so he could kiss her. “One more time?”

She half groan and moan, “Ran… I don’t think I can walk…”

He flips her onto her back, “soft and quiet…”

The knock at her door makes both of them freeze, “Y/n? Y/n are you up?”

“Manjiro.”

“Mikey.”

They both whispered.

“Yes, I’m up.”

“I was wondering if you knew where Ran is. His door is open, but I don’t remember seeing him leave.”

Y/n looks at Ran who shakes his head, “no, I don’t.”

“Okay, I gotta head out so I’ll see you.”

“Okay, bye ‘Jiro!”

They both exhaled after ten seconds when they don’t hear the creak down the hall no more.

Y/n’s head falls back, and she lets out a laugh.

Ran collapse on top of her, nuzzling against her neck. “That was close.” He rubs himself against her. “I’m going to have to go take a cold shower… If Mikey can’t find me, that means Rin can’t find me too and he’ll come hunt me down soon.” He sits up on his knees and he looked do tall just on his knees.

Pushing herself up into a sitting her position, she glances up at him and his hard cock before whispering, “I’ll be quick.”

His eyes bulge out when she reaches forward and starts stroking his cock in both her hands. “Wait… let me sit down.” He collapsed and legs spread out before Y/n takes a spot in between his legs. His breath hitched when she craws closer and before he could register, something warm swirls against the tip of his cock.

Ran’s head rolls back and so did his eyes.

“Fuck,” he swore when she takes part of his cock into her mouth, feeling the back of her throat. “Y/n…”

He looks down and brushes her hair out of the way. When she looks up at him with his cock still in her mouth, he nearly came.

His thumb brushed the tear that escape. “I’m close… I don’t want you to swallow.”

Y/n pulls away, stroking his cock, “you don’t want to cum in my mouth?”

“Oh, I do… but I rather cum inside of you.” He swipes the corner of her mouth. “I very much love cumming inside of you." He guides her upward and onto her back. Spreading her legs, he guides his sensitive, ready to explode cock into her and groans. Her walls squeeze around him, and he gives two lengthy thrusts before he comes undone.

Y/n lets out a quiet whimper, thighs tensing around Ran.

He slides out after a minute. His thumb rubbing her clit as he waits until the thicky milky fluid seeps, “and I love watching it spill out.”

“You’re so nasty,” she giggles, “but I love it.”

. .

Another week of separation.

Ran wasn’t able to return back to the main house since issues seemed have arise one after another.

But his relationship with Y/n has deepen each day.

He wasn’t sure what this warm tingly feeling he felt inside.

He looked forward to her morning and night texts, as well as the rest of the texts throughout the day.

He was always looking at his phone that Rindou was becoming annoyed. Literally any sort of buzzing or notification was always Ran’s phone.

“Are you seeing someone? You have a stupid look on your face.”

As much as he trusts his younger brother, Rindou had no idea about his relationship with Y/n.

“No one, don’t worry about it.”

He’s glad Rindou respected him when it came to personal relationship, because he doesn’t like it when Ran butted into his affairs.

What are you doing now?

Looking at his watch, he couldn’t wait two more hours before he could leave and spend the next three days at the main house.

And bury himself inside of Y/n for the next 72 hours.  

He hated this separation.

The communication may have increased but it wasn’t enough.

Even over a video call.

Ran was never one to have phone sex, but desperate time called for desperate measures.

He enjoyed knowing he was pushing Y/n to do things that made her fluster but knew deep down, she found it sexy playing with herself over the camera just for him.

She loved his dirty talking.

His phone dinged.

A message from Y/n.

I’m having lunch with an old friend.

Something about that made Ran frown.

Oh, who is this?

Her response came through and Ran’s jaw tighten.

Mitsuya Takashi, do you know him? He’s an old friend of Mikey.

. . .

If you're confused, this is the first part

E/N: I love you all. I'll be back.

>>> @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @eadyladlegard @wolffmaiden @satoritendoucultsacrifice @yourgonvermenthooker @littlemochi @cloud-lyy @pana-dolle @basmamme (I hope this tagged you) @haitanifxn @mfreedomstuff @itsroseally @warrior-of-justice @jmnfilter @captainchrisstan @louschan (I hope this tagged you)

𝐔𝐍𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑 | 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐎 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎.

“if you have a crush on me, you could just say so,” you chuckle, plopping beside him and nudging shinichiro with your shoulder. his breath hitches as he tries to pretend like he’s not losing his mind you’re sitting right beside him, watching him work. and this is all in good fun, he tells himself, you absolutely don’t know about his feelings, and you’re not onto him.

but then you sigh quietly in content, leaning your head on his shoulder like it’s second nature. his heartbeat quickens, his palms grow sweaty, and he thinks maybe you are onto him.

“what makes you say that,” he mumbles, shoulders stiffening the tiniest bit at your proximity. he tinkers away at his bike, and you gently poke your finger at an oil stain on his uniform.

“i didn’t say it,” you shrug, “i heard it.”

he stops, you smile, and there’s a silence.

“you what? who…who said that?” he finally asks. shinichiro thinks it must’ve been wakasa—and he’s finally considering cutting off that traitorous, good for nothing, heart stealing, cocky and all-knowing asshole. “was it waka? he’s always full of shit—”

“it wasn’t waka,” you snort. by now, you’re hugging his arm, cheek pressed against his bicep, and he feels like he might just lose his mind. he’s trying desperately—and failing—at fighting off the blush that’s furiously spreading across his cheeks, neck, chest, and even the tips of his ears.

“it had to be waka,” he huffs, setting his tools down. you still don’t unlatch from his arm, and he’s holding back a frustrated sigh. imaushi wakasa might beat him in a fight on a regular day, but shinichiro thinks he might just take the win this time around—he’s too determined after this.

traitorous bastard is too of a kind phrase for someone as lowly as the blonde.

“shin,” you giggle, “it wasn’t wakasa, leave him alone. it was someone else,” you poke his cheek, and he hopes it’s not too hot under your touch from the heat that continues to rise.

“then who?” he pouts, deflating. there go any of his chances with you completely, he tells himself woefully. not that he thinks he had one from the start, but he doesn’t know if there’s any recovering from this.

because you’re perfect.

he knows this fact like it comes to mind as second nature—it’s as simple as fixing a flat tire for him. you’re perfect, and shinichiro is awkward and nervous, and he’ll be the first to admit he’s a little lame too. he thinks it’s pretty cruel that you of all people had to be the one crush he didn’t just bounce back from. instead, he gets to fall in love and watch you from the sideline, and it’s a little unfair.

it’s unfair when shinichiro watches you laugh at wakasa’s jokes and bat your eyelashes at the (aggravating) way his friend chuckles smugly, and he realizes how awkward his own smile really is at times. no amount of practicing smiling in the mirror seems to help.

it’s unfair as he watches you stare in absolute shock at how many pounds benkei can bench press, and he glances at his lanky physique in comparison with sagging shoulders. he quickly gives up trying though when he almost crushes himself under the weight once.

it’s unfair how easy it is for you to tell takeomi about the silliest things that come to your mind, and he wonders if he’ll ever be able to hold a conversation with you without stuttering. he finds he blurts the stupidest things when he’s not too busy stuttering though.

it’s unfair, and it’s always going to be unfair. and some day, you’re going to be another rejection he can add to the list—it’s probably going to be sooner rather than later at this point, and he thinks that’ll be unfair too.

“i promised not to say a word,” you murmur, and your hand trails to grab his hand. gently, you unclench the fist he doesn’t realize he’s making, smoothing a thumb over his knuckles.

“well if they knew, they promised not to say a word too,” he grumbles bitterly.

“don’t be like that,” you insist gently, peering up at his tight jaw as he stares ahead. your fingers lace with his, and even if he thinks you’re just mocking him, he can’t help but lace his back.

“if you’re going to reject me get it over with,” he sighs, “and let a guy down gently. twenty rejections gets to you after a bit.”

“who said i wanted to reject you?” you pout. he thinks you’re just being mean at this point, dragging it out like this.

“look, i get it—”

“if it makes you feel any better, mikey only told me because i called you cute first.”

shinichiro pauses, and after a moment of registering your words, he’s cursing his own little brother in his mind—and he regretfully thinks maybe he owes wakasa an apology for the not so kind thoughts from earlier too.

“mikey? you mean my little brother? that mikey?” he sputters, and you giggle, rolling your eyes.

“unless you know any other manjiro’s that go by mikey, then yes. that’s the one.”

“how could he? we’re brothers. we share the same blood—i let him go to bed thirty minutes late the other night,” he rambles, and there’s a warmth that spreads through your chest as he talks more to himself than you.

shinichiro’s not exactly a smooth talker, but all things considered, he’s always been charming nonetheless. you lean up and kiss his jaw, and he goes silent instantly, eyes widened in shock. it makes your heart flutter, and you can’t help but press one more.

“well, he clearly did you a favor shin,” you snort, leaning back to lay your cheek on his arm. “by the time you confessed on your own, mikey would probably be too old for bedtime.”

“that’s not true,” he pouts, looking at you with defiance in his eyes, “i’d have told you.”

“oh yeah?” you raise a brow, and he wilts a little under your gaze.

“yeah,” he mumbles, “i would’ve. eventually.”

“sure,” you chuckle, “i’m sure you would. eventually.”

he watches as you play with his hand in yours, laying your palms flat together to compare hand sizes. you trace over the calluses and glide your fingertips along each line of his palm, and he shivers slightly at the feeling.

“so…you uh…you don’t mind?”

“mind what?” you hum, bringing his hand up to kiss the small scratch on the back, “and you should be more careful when you work with sharp tools,” you scold gently.

“you don’t mind me feeling this way? and that wasn’t my fault, stupid wakasa never knocks when he—”

“it’d be pretty unfair if i minded, shin,” you smile, looking up to meet his eyes, “since i feel the same and all. and be nice to wakasa, he put in a good word for you when he told me a few weeks ago.”

“wha—you knew? and wakasa did tell you—”

his breath hitches when your lips are already on his, cutting him off. his eyes flutter shut as your hand cups his cheek, thumb tracing the warm skin, and he thinks out of the goodness of his heart, shinichiro might start letting manjiro pick his own bedtime every now and then.

he won’t be apologizing anytime soon to imaushi wakasa, his traitorous bastard friend, however.

if

kissing the homies goodnight 😚 especially kaveh

Modern AU headcanons - Diluc as a wine industry tycoon

Warning: NSFW

Pairing: Diluc x gn reader

You and Diluc have been fortunate enough to be born as the heirs to the wine tycoon business run by your families. The vineyards are flourishing and the company has been passed down from one generation to the next for decades.

Your families have been handling the business matters side by side, fighting back against any adversities. Like a hand in glove, with the core principles being mutual respect and sincerity, the successful partnership has always made their chests swell with pride.

Ever since you were small children, your parents have made it a point to time and time again remind you of the importance of the family business and the well-fortified trust between your ancestors. You had to attend extra lessons, read lots of books or meet other wine specialists to gather the necessary knowledge to take over the wine empire.

The time has finally come and your parents have deemed both of you ready to be in charge of the family-run business.

The hitch is, though, that you and Diluc are far from being happy to share the ownership of the world-famous winery. But, it wasn’t always the case. In the past, one could say that you were perhaps too inseparable, leaving Diluc’s step-brother behind. However, as time went by, the connection was gradually lost and now it only remains a bitter-sweet memory.

Diluc, for reasons known only to himself, finds you unfit for the task of being a co-owner of the company. He despises the idea of running the business together with you and bluntly criticises you in front of your family members.

Nevertheless, your parents have already settled on a plan of action, giving you an ultimatum to mend the fences and prove to them that you’re worthy of inheriting the winery tycoon.

„You have a month to end this childish nonsense.”

Diluc’s father informs adjusting the knot in his tie. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Diluc’s pouty face. He looks stiffened like a wooden wine rack and that mental connotation alone sends you into a fit of stifled giggles. Diluc’s eyes express a mix of annoyance and repulsion once he reluctantly peers at you from the opposite side of the coffee table.

„I’m sorry, ahem,” you clear your throat and straighten up in your armchair, mirroring Diluc’s weird position. His face contorts in a fake smile, which you immediately reciprocate, causing his eyes to narrow.

„Erm…, I was saying,” Diluc’s father refocuses your attention back to him, „You need to somehow learn to co-operate. I’m thoroughly sick and tired of your antics. I’ve already spoken to Kaeya. Should you fail to come to your senses, he’ll be the one inheriting the majority of shares.” He informs, taking a sip of the coffee in his hand.

Diluc looks ready to rise to his feet, however, he composes himself and digs his nails into the armrest, turning to his father.

„I thought he said he wasn’t interested in anything that has to do with the company. Apart from plundering our wine barrels for free, that is.”

„He was thoughtful enough to change his mind per my request.”

Diluc snickers, „Oh, how considerate.”

„It’s your last warning. Screw this up and you’ll be forever stuck as Kaeya’s personal assistants.” He announces, grimacing at the bitter taste of the beverage. „You could perhaps start with buying a new coffee machine. It tastes like dog’s piss.” He reluctantly lifts himself from the armchair and saunters to the door.

„It’s your coffee machine, Dad,” Diluc observes in a huff.

But, his father’s already marched out of the office, leaving you two alone. The ticking of the clock is the only sound that breaks the stillness of the room. Your fingers start impatiently drumming on the armrest. Diluc’s eyes zero in on you.

„What? Why are you looking at me like this? Don’t tell me it’s my fault.” You gasp, feigning offence.

„Remind me of the time when it actually wasn’t.”

You roll your eyes and decide to remove yourself from his view before he throws another tantrum.

And so, the co-operation thing has kicked off pretty fast. Albeit, it is still quite rough around the edges.

For the sake of his sanity, Diluc suggests that you should reside in a separate office and reduce your daily interaction to an absolute minimum. He tells you to compose a list of matters that require both your and his attention, which you will later discuss once you’ve agreed on a date of a meeting. He informs you about all of that in an e-mail. He is kind enough to notify you that if, for some reason, you happen to have some doubts his secretary will be ready to answer your questions.

The first days he avoids you like a plaque, hoping that things will somehow blow over if he only stays out of your way and continues doing his job.

He thinks he doesn’t need your help and can single-handedly deal with the paperwork and the meetings.

Keep reading

paris (teaser)

❝You and Jeonghan, jazz-filled corners, hidden history, and the city of love.❞

historical! au | exes to lovers! au | angst, fluff, smut | approx. 45k words (teaser wc. 1.4k words)

s u m m a r y : disgraced by hollywood for the last time, you, a once superstar-turned-alcoholic, escape to the city of love to seek sanctuary from the ruthless tabloids. your sanctuary comes in the form of film noir superstar yoon jeonghan, the enigmatic man who taught you the art of acting, lust and love before your fame. when he asks to meet you once, just like old times, you cannot refuse. what is meant to be a simple date turns into a path of passion, pain and everything that comes with fooling around with your ex in the jazz-filled corners of paris.

c o n t e n t s : actor! mc, actor! jeonghan, mc is incredibly bitter and makes bad decisions, agent! seungkwan who is tired of fixing them, jeonghan is the suavest, sultriest mf, mentions of parisian landmarks in this fic, also a bit of french peppered throughout, greek mythology art references, tons of fluff which is also layered with angst, this will be very hurt-comfort, hella ansgty but will have a happy ending mature warnings -> alcohol consumption and abuse, smoking, this is basically sexual tension with plot, slightly drunk making out, oral sex (f. receiving) unprotected sex (refer point to bad decisions), very soft angsty sex, body worshipping, petnames (chérie, mon ange, darling, angel), overall emotional rollercoaster, more tba!

p l a y l i s t : here!

t a g l i s t : @hyuckworld​ @sysymei @alaypsy23 @belladaises @jjeongddol @sparklyshuji @forcoups @ilovesungjun @wonwoo24 @scandal-in-bohemia @hopefulchick @superbbananananana @onedumbho3 @fragmentof-indifference @cuntycheol @rubywonu @if-i-like-i-reblog @yoonzinoooo @jungwoos-luvr @crookedwolfruins @leclercloverbot​ @alexai (let me know if y’all want to be tagged!)

a u t h o r ’ s  n o t e : after three years … four rewritings later… she may finally see the light … i am releasing the teaser now but will post the fic when i’m back from holiday! i hope you all enjoy the lil extract <3

read this fic here!

SHIT. YOU COULD NOT DO THIS TODAY.

Suddenly, you wished he was a mere figment of your imagination, because then he would not have to see you in your drunken, disordered state, looking for art that was not there, looking for the past in the present.

But then he began to move.

This very real presence walked closer to you, and you felt your entire body constricting, because Yoon Jeonghan was in front of you, the greatest star in the world was approaching you, the man of your distant memories was coming too close.

Keep reading

Cassian: So... I've seen you've been spending a lot of time with Rhys recently.

Feyre: No, Cassian, it's not what it looks like. I swear.

Cassian: Oh really? So no reason for me to be jealous?

Feyre: No! You're the only one for me.

Cassian: Is that so?

Feyre: I promise. Rhysand and I are just bonded, okay? He's my mate.

Cassian: So there are no best-friend-feelings involved?

Feyre: You are still my one and only best friend! He's just the love of my life, nothing more!

Cassian: But I'm still the platonic love of your life, right?

Feyre: Of course!

Rhys:

Rhys: What the-

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ THE F*CK LIST (extras)

✧.* “See? Was that so hard? Now here, clean yourself off my fingers, messy girl.”

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ Masterlist for What-If scenarios & extra scenes that originate from & take place in the AU of my completed jjk fanfic; The F*ck List.

[ { NEED TO KNOW } ] ➤ This is a collection of oneshots, most of which are smut. Some are canon to the fic while others are not.

[ { CONTENT/WARNINGS } ] ➤ fem!reader, explicit nsfw scenes, alcohol, college au, whore activities, gen z references, & above all; 18+ themes.

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

Coming soon ➤

☆ Gojo joined you & Geto.

★ Geto couldn’t get enough of you.

☆ Gojo skipped class to eat you out.

☆ You and Shoko practice kissing.

★ You and Choso fucked like rabbits.

☆ You slept in Toji’s bedroom.

☆ Sukuna became your fwb.

☆ Teasing Ino went further than planned.

☆ Nanami invited Ino to join the two of you.

★ Choso let you hold him while he pees.

☆ Yuki and Shoko “comfort” you after the drama.

☆ Your boyfriend Choso turns out to be a cuck.

★ Choso treats his newly wedded wife like a slut.

These aren’t exactly in order of when they’ll come out but links will be added to each as they’re published.

[ ★ = canon. ☆ = non-canon. ]

|| @kamiversee || status; ongoing ||

Requests; open — It can be smut, fluff, or angst, a canon or non-canon scene to/for the fic & anything I’m uncomfortable with writing, I’ll lyk <3