#I wish I were less clueless on this

[to-dance-beneath-the-diamond-sky]

State and local politics are sooooo fucking important. I cannot emphasize this enough

when you call your reps to ask them to pretty please stop taking away your rights, remember:

In deep red areas you’re a republican who is thinking of voting for someone else if they don’t vote what you want on this specific bill because it impacts your republican ideals so very much

In swing states you’re an undecided voter who’s gonna go blue if they don’t vote how you like

remember to call because that way their phone is going off and their peers can hear it because their offices are close together (emails and letters don’t work like that), so it can rattle them if they get high volumes. remember that you gotta make them feel like they’re losing something.

[riaki]

i literally cant stop thinkin’ about highschoolbully!gojo who used to be your ride or die ‘til he started getting attention from those popular jock type guys who are always assholes to everyone. and him being.. well, him means he preens under attention no matter who it’s from, so naturally he started to gravitate towards that group and their little troop of cheerleading fangirls. and then he started distancing from you and without either of you really realizing it, you’ve slipped between the other’s fingers. but the way he acts towards you makes you think he let you fall without moving a muscle to slow you down.

soon enough, a year swings by and by the end of it he’s gone from your life, save as just another face in the gaggle of boys who make crude jokes and laugh at smart kids and pop milk cartoons during lunch just for the hell of it. but you’re minding your own business, ‘cause you’re mature enough to realize that people come and go, no matter how close you might’ve been and you think it’s unfortunate that so many memories could be thrown aside in a blink of an eye, but it makes a lot of sense when you walk past satoru and his friends bullying some random kid. you don’t know him, but you’ve heard enough to realize it’s his girlfriend satoru’s flirting with while his ‘gang’ kick at the kid. and it’s sickening, but you don’t say anything when you walk by.

and when you don’t ever see the kid afterward and catch the dark eyebags under his girlfriend’s eyes, you come to the cruel realization that satoru isn’t the boy who’d bandage the scrape on your knee you got from tripping in the playground or buy you a soda because he’s noticed your sweat when you were walking home and you don’t have any money left on you.

it’s a glass half empty, half full type of situation. on the one hand, you don’t have him anymore. on the other hand, you don’t have him anymore. that is, you lost your best friend, but you’ve also lost someone who has the potential to absolutely ruin your life. and you don’t know whether to be glad or not, so you just mind your own business even if it hurts a little when he ignores you, stops tossing paper at your head in class (unless it’s to embarrass you) and stops walking you to and from school.

but the cherry on top of the shit cake is that he doesn't get it. so when he approaches you in the library one day after satiating the need to tear pages from books and make them into paper airplanes to throw at people, he doesn't seem to understand why you try to ignore him, or put off his attempts to hold a convo. but the worst part is that he's just sleazy and clueless about it. it's like he took an eraser and wiped every single year of your friendship off the chalkboard with one fell swipe, and you wish he'd done that too to the less-than-appropriate messages he and his friends had written towards one of your classmates.

he doesn't understand why you're hesitant to talk, and that's what makes it the worst. he always thinks he's in the right, and he keeps setting you off and it sucks that he knows exactly what sets you off. "i'm an asshole? what're you talking about? really, you're in over your head. you never change." he laughs, and you ignore him, and he gets bored, and he's about to leave when he spots your wallet open next to your book, on the table. there's a polaroid peeking out, and he recognizes the tufts of white hair to be him. but there's a weird feeling in his chest, and he thinks he gets it from you, so he leaves because he thinks you're weird.

and it goes on; you practically become a nobody in satoru's eyes, because of that weird, weird feeling you give him. it's unfamiliar and he's never gotten it before and he doesn't like it. but it's unavoidable when your professor pairs you two for the end-of-term project. and of course, you're ready to do all the work, because that's how it always was between you when you were kids. but sometimes he'd surprise you by helping, and he'd show you that he was actually intelligent just to earn your praise because he liked it. but he ignored you, and you did everything, and it would've been okay if not for his friends egging him on to present your entire project when the day came and leave you with no content for a grade.

that's the first time it hits him: does he really want to do that? but it's not like it'll be the first time; you've always taken the hits for him, because you're naturally smart and you'll pick yourself back up in no time, and you get why he does it, so it'll be okay. so he agrees, and he enjoys the time he gets to spend with you through it, but the nagging weird feeling that blooms in his chest like a pesky weed only grows stronger. that's all his feelings ever seem to do around you.

but before you know it, presentation day swings around. you had coffee this morning (on his card), and you're ready enough to shoot him a small smile that sends his heart a-flutter. so you go up, feeling up to the task and ready until— he starts talking, and talking, and talking, and people don't think that he's taking your words out of your mouth because he's intelligent when he wants to make you praise him and you don't get the chance to get a word in and you notice the guys are laughing and hitting each other's shoulders to themselves in the upper rows and before you know it it's over. people are clapping but moreso they're looking at you and they're whispering— but it's terribly loud and they don't bother to hide it. they call you things that shouldn't bother you but they do anyway, because it's satoru's fault, and you're such a fool for thinking you could have it your way again.

so you leave class early, excusing yourself and ignoring the way your professor gives you a distasteful look and scribbles something next to your name. you're out the door in a second, neglecting your bags and satoru's a little lost because— didn't he just do good? people were clapping, and laughing with him and not at him, but it's attention either way so he doesn't mind. so why do you? why did you look at him like he stabbed you in the back? and his friends are calling his name, and he wishes he could chase after you and do something but he doesn't.

and it's a little sickening what they do next; one of their girls grabbed your bags and tossed it to them, and they've started rifling through it as if they own it, tearing up your shit and dumping everything onto the ground and he's kind of just... glued to the chair by his feelings. his heart feels like it's been patched together and the weird fuzzy feeling he had in his chest that's been cultivating has extinguished to be replaced with something he realizes he's only ever felt when it comes to you— guilt.

he's so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't realize his friend is silently offering him something— nudging his side to get his attention. he takes it without really realizing he moved his hand, and his silent friend with the gauges in his ears and the dark hair gets up and leaves without another word. when satoru looks down, he realizes he's been given your wallet. "the reward for betraying your baby," they call it. like all you're worth is the money in your account.

he's a little curious. that's how he's always been; asking you questions, rummaging through your stuff, laughing sheepishly and shaking it off when you caught him red-handed. so he opens it up, ignoring your sad little cards and the funny look on your license. he's looking for something, subconsciously; but he doesn't find it. there's no white tuft of hair to suggest his presence in your life; just empty black leather. nothing else.

and he doesn't see you after. or the following day. or the following weeks; weeks that turn into months that turn into the end of school and he's graduating but you're not by his side. and neither are his so called 'friends'; the only thing he has to their name is your own ruined friendship. it's a shame; he feels alone. very alone. no fuzzy weird feeling, not even that thing people call guilt. no attention to chase, and connections are ever harder to make. it shouldn'tve mattered that much, right? it was just a presentation. why wouldn't you just come back to him like you always did? were you not still friends...?

but the blood is still on his hands, and he doesn't manage to ever wash it off. guilt has a way of festering; of weighing on the heart 'till there's nothing left to feel or think but unfortunate circumstance and what could've been done differently. it just sucks that he never tried hard enough to keep you from slipping between his grasp. and now, he doesn't even have a polaroid to your friendship's name.

pt.2

[2kiran]

FRANCIS MOSSES 交易 ── `` DARK CONTENT﹕monsterfucking. top amab reader. doppelgänger francis. handjob. no protection + preparation. overstimulation. ✶ IN WHICH you unknowingly let the wrong francis inside.

the prospect of you being fired—or worse, being put in a cell—was incredibly likely. enthusiasm of the milkman’s arrival being your final entry request for the day lead to your upcoming demise.

it shouldn’t be on you, both the blame and responsibility. the given identity document had indistinguishable information, merely an artist’s mistake as you finally realize that his eyebrows were just a tad thicker. his eyes were a bit too lively for the real francis.

realization dawned on you a second too late as you feel cold, but strangely simultaneously familiar and unfamiliar hands grab you from behind. before you could reach the rotary phone to contact the D.D.D., he grabbed your wrist and spun your chair around to face him.

francis, or so you thought, had a gentle smile plastered on his face but you knew better to tell that his intentions were far from truly kind. “don’t tell me you were actually going to let them kill me,” your jaw tightened, gaze hardening into a glare. he chuckled, hands landing on the armrests, so dangerously close to yours that were balled in fists to prevent yourself from punching his face.

when you didn’t respond, he continued. leaning in as he shook his head with a scoff, “aw, c’mon. . .we both know that you’re too much of a good sweetheart, yeah? please don’t try that again.” his saccharine voice was improbable, a subtle take of a threat behind his tone.

“you’re gullible enough to think i’d do that for you.” the tension between you was palpable, a thin thread that threatened to break at the tip of his finger. his lips pouted, sadness in his untrue eyes. “me? but you’re the one who let me in here,” he laughed, tone rather arrogant, “and i should thank you for that.”

if he were the real francis, you probably would have been making out with him by now. this doppelgänger was awfully confident, you wish you could break him. see tears fall down to his round cheeks, lips trembling as pleas tumbled out of his pretty lips.

these thoughts were idiotic. but fuck, he was near enough to the milkman, the clueless neighbor who could care less about it all. “want me to spare you? or—” you cut him off, lips connecting with his. francis was surprised, but welcomed it nonetheless. his hand came up to your neck, sliding towards your hair. groaning as he gently, almost experimentally, tugged at it. tongue met tongue, a clash of saliva and mess. you bit onto his bottom lip, eliciting a soft moan.

“mmph, and here i thought you hated me.” he grinned, panting, “what gave you that idea?” you place a kiss on his chin, “because you tried to get rid of me, and the fact that. . .i’m not him.” grabbing his hips, he let out a yelp. he scrambled to hold onto your shoulders for dear life, gasping when he felt your teeth graze against his neck. “seems like i’ve struck a nerve, hu—haah, fuck!”

a lewd moan had escaped him, your teeth sinking into his flesh. it was far from gentle, biting him like you wanted to see him bleed. he was simply a doppelgänger that you stupidly let in, after all.

the pink muscle settled in your mouth lapped at the bite, cueing francis to whimper at the sensation. he moved closer on your lap, grinding against your crotch. the action could’ve been mistaken for something relating to a dog; for he seemed like a bitch in heat. quite uncharacteristic for his kind. “you’re pathetic, mosses.”

francis, beyond belief, was affected by the use of the stolen surname more than you anticipated. his hips trembled, “that’s, haah, not my fault. you made me like this. fucking a– ah! doppelgänger, really? they’d surely co– come for you next.” his cock twitched, spilling pre-cum that formed a wet patch on his boxers. you were a lowly human, another one to get rid of, so why does he feel this way?

silence was met with his words. not until you pull down his pants, taking off what was left until his lower half was bare to you. “oh yeah? you’re letting me fuck you,” your fingers wrapped around the base of his dick, giving a single stroke, “you’re not even trying to fight back against me, honey.”

he whined, beginning to selfishly rut into your palm. “what were you going to say?” francis doesn’t respond and you twist your wrist, a cry slipping from him. you asked on a whim, wishing to hear what he planned besides allowing you to carry on with your life. “i-i don’t know!” your thumb presses down on his slit, causing him to wrack his brain to remember. “ah, ah, i meant to ask if you wa- want me to kill you right he— hmmng!” his voice wobbled as if he was fearful, tears in his eyes and he’s suddenly ethereal.

“do you still want to do that? to end my life?”

“no, no, please, i didn’t mean it.”

you tease the vein that ran on his shaft, never failing to witness the face he makes when he’s within the depths of pleasure; of that high he never dared to reach. oh, if only if it was francis mosses. the real one, the one you’re so curious about, the one who your eyes like to linger on a bit too long for comfort. your pace picks up, palm slick with his pre-cum and the room’s sinful with his sobs and arousal.

francis moans under his breath, “i’m cumming-!” he warns a second too late, hips bucking as the familiar fluid splatters across your fingers. the doppelgänger was your very own legendary mona lisa with how his face is painted with all shades of red.

when you swipe your thumb over his tip, he swore he had a glimpse of the deity he didn’t have the conscience to worship.

beliefs were foolish; it was his opinion. with that, he thought you were the one insane. doppelgängers aren’t flawed with such imperfections like humans are. he didn’t need to be prepared for situations similar to this, and you used his inhumanity for your pleasure.

“ughm, agh!” you had wordlessly given your cock a few pumps, no more than that before slipping inside of his tight hole. the tiniest beginning of guilt threatened to engulf you with shame, but why should you allow it? his mere purpose and intention was to murder.

his hole spasmed around you, freely welcoming the intrusion. maybe they were quite useful after all. he whined, his insides tingling with the stretch. the doppelgänger has never felt so full, or genuinely anything, for that matter. “please—fuck, move already, damnit.” he, himself, was breathless.

how could you deny him?

your hands grasped his hips tightly, like you wanted to indent a marking into his flesh. cold emanated from your palms, contrasting to the heat licking at his cheeks. he’s lighter than you’d expect, hole gripping you as if he was a fleshlight. lifting him up, your tip was held onto. heavenly; as the way he wrapped around you was undeniably heavenly.

sensing his apparent impatience, you let him crash down on you. a broken gasp-of-a-moan occupied the air, globs of pre-cum building on his slit. “yeah, fuck me like that,” he breathed, instructions hazily clear to your sex-deprived brain. his ass slapped, slapped, slapped against you. shit, the D.D.D. surely ought to give you a punishment worse than death for this.

he clung onto you, both with his arms and entrance. you don’t think you could really get enough��as vague as this memory could get. your tip brushes against his prostate with each harsh thrust, slick sounds adding onto the cotton pressed into his little head, forming static and nothing else to focus on besides your cock pounding into him. “you’re liking this- ahngm! right? like how good i feel? haa, needed your dick in me s’ bad. . .”

he pushed his hips forward, grinding on your cock as he purposely clenched. “thaaaat’s it, sweetheart. think ‘m gonna keep you.”

yeah, let’s hope your neighbors forgive you for indulging in him.

masterlist﹒divider﹒artist kaworinx

[kismetlotts]

cw: angst, mentions of sex, best friend Simon Riley, mentions of knives, mentions of hurting yourself but no implications of actually doing so or having done in the past, mentions of cheating, mentions of alcohol, clueless Simon Riley, crying in each others arms, helping out your best friend, reader is self less

part 2 of Best Friend Simon Riley Angst (I recommend reading part one first to understand certain elements better)

You woke up in the morning, daylight shining through your curtains and you already knew it wasn’t sunshine- bound to be nothing but grey clouds out there, flooding the sky like a polluted ocean. Your nose and head ached in the silent flood of last nights memories, your crying, your actions and worst of all, your best friend.

Oh Simon, what a dickhead you were. Why did you have to come here?

Your body flushed against the cold sheets behind you, a weightless bed, giving you the impression he’d done a runner. Typical him honestly- you wouldn’t be surprised if that was what initiated their breakup; the same breakup that was at fault for all of this.

He was always so forward, front and confrontational within the field. The notorious ‘Ghost’ that installs fear in every enemy he has to face. He’s a fighter at work but ironically, in life, all he knew was how to retreat. Pull away before he can cause anymore damage, pull out before the mess gets bigger.

You flung the covers off you, their pretty, pink, innocent pattern already making vomit surface in your throat. He’d flopped down on that bedding countless times in the past: memories which made it hurt more came to mind. The knives that were already jammed in your gut, heart and what’s seemed as your brain, twisting a little deeper before freezing up in place.

You remembered the times when his body would accidentally fling you around the mattress, grunting and smirking while he settle down and got comfy. You remembered the way his fingers tapped on the cotton as he leaned over to see what you were looking at on your phone. Nosy but never prying in too much.

Imagining how you looked when you watched his hand sweep across the duvet on movie night, pushing every crumb onto your bedroom floor with a laugh and an apology leaving his lips. His hands, shooting into the air as he surrendered in playful shame. Not really paying attention as your voice scolded him for eating in your bed.

Your fingers stripped the bedding from its covers. Tossing them into a pile on the floor beside your laundry basket, the sheets so stained with both of your sweat and dirt from the situation, your nose scrunched up at the sight. You left it there ready to put in the wash later.

Though, a part of you can’t help but wonder if they will ever feel as clean as they did before.

If they’ll ever give you the warm, comforting sensation you got every night before nodding off to sleep. Would you ever hear their soft cries to slip back in bed when you wake up early for work? The covers flopped back in agony, silently pleading for you to come back and have five more minutes?

No. Now they just feel like you never got out of that bed, the duvet still wrapped around your body keeping you hostage and forcing you to go about your day. The weight of everything on your shoulders enough for you to trip and fall on the material.

You’d burn them if they weren’t so big.

The whole thing was absolutely ridiculous, why the fuck did you let it happen anyway? The sex with him wasn’t anything like you’d wished or dreamed of nor would it have never been.

He didn’t love you but something inside you obviously can’t comprehend that. Every chance you get to show or pretend that the two of you were more than what you were- you’d leap for it: eyes sparkling with the same hope a lost kid has.

He used you last night and you let him like the pathetic, lovesick loser you always were. It wasn’t sex, it was nothing more than a mere distraction and waste of time. A waste of his time, more hassle just for him.

Your fingers wrapped around your smooth doorknob as you pushed open your bedroom door, trailing into the kitchen before an aroma of pancake batter and fresh baking gripped you by the throat. Your big eyes meeting Simons, his familiar, large figure pressed against your kitchen counter as he sucked on his bottom lip.

His face was pale and his brown pupils never left the plate of fucked up pancakes, left on a placemat on the table.

You laughed. You laughed because you couldn’t trust anything else to come out- You couldn’t trust that you wouldn’t break down crying, that you wouldn’t scream or hurt yourself in front of him, that you wouldn’t wince at this- idiotic gesture.

Was this an apology? Was this all you meant to him? A plate of sweet treats you’d have to force yourself to eat, to swallow down and help you forget everything bad that happened. Maybe, or perhaps it was pure coincidence it summed up his perspective of the night; perfectly.

“Did you make me pancakes?” The tremble and nerves in your voice was apparent and he nodded slowly, gesturing to the massive bag of groceries on the countertop.

“With berries and sugar on top. I’ve got some other things here though, chocolate- all kinds, some syrup and honey and other fruit in that bag if you want any. I just added berries because I know they’re your favourite.” He rambled on.

“When did I tell you that?” Your head turned to the side, twitching in uncertainty as you sat down in front of the plate. Eyes squinting as you bit the inside of your cheek.

“You said when we…-oh.”

That’s not her, Simon.

His hand lifted to his eyes, rubbing them to avoid looking anywhere. The rise and fall of his chest grew faster and you just knew how is heart felt, flooding with guilt and embarrassment at his own actions.

Staying mad at him was hard when you knew him so well. Mistakes get made and feeling get trampled on but he wasn’t a bad person. That’s why you fell for him all that time ago.

The knife in your hand cut through the pancakes like butter, your posture up straight and distant from the plate while your appetite warned you not to bite. Your eyes flickered over to Simon again, seeing his hands still firmly placed over his eyes, broad shoulders retracted inwards as his body jolted in silent cries. The metal rattled against the table as you put the knife down and jumped out of your chair.

“Simon don’t do this-“ You spoke comfortingly, lunging over towards his body. Your soft skin met with the roughness of his arm but before you could say another word he shoved your body away from him.

A voice you’d never heard before coming out loud and brute, as you took a step back from his harsh rejection.

“Can you just fuck off trying to make me feel better constantly- I know i’ve fucked up and I know i’ve upset you. Stop acting like everything is alright when it isn’t, you do this every time- i’m not a kid!” His fist clawed at his shirt. Pulling it away from his chest as if he wanted to rip his heart out to stop the torture he was suffering.

Spit flew from his mouth and his eyes looked red, sunken with despair. Your voice died in your mouth, tongue soaking up all your saliva and you tried to swallow.

He was lost. He ruined the thing he needed the most- fucked about and caused chaos with his lifeline. You were his saviour and always had been. He didn’t need for you to fix his relationship or his problems, he needed you to fix him. He didn’t sleep with you to use you intentionally, it was a drunken mistake and a shitty timing.

He inhaled through his mouth, his throat croaking as he gripped the counter for stabilisation. Face was locked down to the floor, glued and staring at his shoes on your kitchen floor.

The drops of his tears on the black leather of his boots and the drops on your tiles reminding him of how pathetic he was being. He was a man, he worked in the military. He had slept with people before, cheated, and ruined relationships but nothing hurt like this hurt. Nothing knocked him down so hard he was afraid to get back up, he was afraid to lose you. Simon was scared.

“I made a mistake and I’m so fucking sorry. I don’t know what I can even do to make it up to you- fucking pancakes- it is stupid I should know better and I should know what to do but I-” The whiteness in his knuckles disappeared as he lessened his grip on the counter. Hands falling to his side as he broke down on the spot.

The hard armour he lived in unraveling like flimsy pieces of ribbon. His wet eyelashes hitting his cheeks as he wiped his nose and face on the back of his wrist.

“I can’t think. I can’t be me without you here and I don’t know what to do, please, i’m so sorry just please come back to me. I know i’ve lost a part of you and I will fight until the end of day to get it back, but for now just let me have the rest back. I need my best friend back.” His hands met your lower back as you flung your arms around his neck, your own eyes dripping with tears of outrage and hurt but above all you needed Simon too.

You sobbed silently into his shoulder as he held you close to him finally getting his breathing back to normal. You bit your lips shut and breathed slowly so he couldn’t feel your body shake for air. You didn’t want him to realise how much you were struggling in his arms- how lost and abused you felt. You didn’t want your emotions to worsen his because he had to come first.

He’d lost the love of his life and he needs someone to be strong for him, help him get on his own feet. Be beside him with wide arms and a welcoming face. It wasn’t him being selfish, it was something you had to understand Simon to understand.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment before you hesitantly sat down and talked. It was a long talk hidden by cheap smiles and forced laughter but of course, he didn’t catch on. You let him speak, you gave him advice- hugged it out and as weeks passed by, the two of you were back to normality again.

He’d found a new girl quicker than you thought he wouldn’t, pretty girl and ironically she your figure and eye colour. The more you watched them interact the more they seemed to happy together, kissing, hugging, buying each other gifts. It felt just like how it was before.

Back to Simon and his lovesick best friend that will always be there for him even if he’s never there for her. Back to Simon and his awful dating life as he hops from one awful breakup to the next because they all are missing something.

All he wants, is girl with your hair colour. A girl with your eye colour and your smile. All he longs for is a girl that he can hold hands with but can also roll his eyes at when she teases him for being too cheesy. He wants a girl who can laugh and joke with him but still support him and by there for him in more ways than one. Not just a girlfriend but almost as if a best friend at the same time. That’s all he wants and asks the world for but for some reason she just isn’t out there for him.

And until he realises why he looks for you in every girl he meets. Until he steps back and opens his eyelids to everything right in front of him. She won’t ever be.

[tteokdoroki]

THIRD TIME'S A CHARM - kento nanami.

✩ — about. “my coworker is a wonderful person. they’re kind and sweet. they care a lot about others. recently, i’ve been having some…less than platonic feelings for them and i don’t know how to handle it." kento nanami never cared for workplace shenanigans. he never took his mind off of work. and he never thought he would develop feelings for his coworker, nor expect for them to feel the same way about him. what happens when he misses your three attempts to ask him out? perhaps reddit will know... ( 5.5K )

✩ — warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, angst, happy ending  - video banner ! AITA-verse!au, office romance!au, mutual pinining, cluelessness, misunderstandings, christmas time, mentions of alcohol, office worker!nanami, afab!reader.

✩ — things to note. happy monday everyone, i have for you yet another fic to go with my gojo one! this story was written as a gift for @antizenin bc i love her so bad !! can be read as a stand-alone but does make refrences to my AITA gojo fic !! thank you to @todorosie for beta reading! hope you enjoy beloveds <3 - series m.list ⋆ m.list ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪𖤐₊ ⊹

my coworker is a wonderful person. they’re kind and sweet. they care a lot about others. recently, i’ve been having some…less than platonic feelings for them and i don’t know how to handle it. my chest feels tight when they’re away and whenever they’re nearby my heart beats so fast i feel like i might pass. it would be a pleasure to date them or to just stand by them… there’s only one problem. i’m not usually the type of guy who engages in workplace shenanigans, i hardly know how to interact with people outside of the confines of my work. my coworker has made a few advances, at least i think they have. i don’t know how to respond or whether or not i’m over-thinking this. do they even like me? is it all in my head? i could really do with some advice… how should i go about this and telling them how i feel?  TLDR: i have a crush on my coworker but i can’t, for the life of me, tell if they like me back. 

you’ve always liked your co-worker, kento nanami.

to those who don’t know him, he appears quite stoic and blunt, cold even. like the crisp weather at the start of winter, air that’s sharp and bites unpleasantly at your nose. nanami tends to act the same towards those he holds no affections for, blocking them out as if he were a fortress made of stone.

one may even paint a picture of kento nanami as a lone wolf — callous and uninterested in the buzz of the office. he stays late, works long hours, never engages with the gossip on your floor after work. 

that’s only the beginning of how the world sees your blonde co-worker.

but you have come to know nanami, in your short time working for Gojo Corporations. you’ve not been there very long, still adapting to the office culture and your brand new line of work, but in the few months that you have been finding your equilibrium in the office — you’ve gotten used to nanami’s demeanour, his ethic, his lifestyle. you’ve come to appreciate it, and him. 

the man works hard, with a quiet confidence about him that puts your mind at ease — a quality you only wished that you had. it makes you curious, how little he seems to care about what it is Gojo Corp actually does but how much of his time he puts into it and how much he cares for the people around him too. you’ve learned, by taking the desk to nanami’s left, that he’d risen pretty quickly in the company, he begrudgingly seems to be gojo’s (your boss’) favourite employee and that he’s surprisingly good at what he does for someone who hates it so much. 

he presents at meetings and debfriefs calmly, always gets through his tasks with an air of rationale and when you’d first started…nanami was kind, gently leading you through your own work as if he’d taken your hand in his and was guiding you to some place warmer — away from the chill of your nerves and self-doubt. in his own way, he cared. nanami was not as cold as one might think. 

there’s so much more to him than what meets the average human eye. ever since joining the company — you found yourself curious, wanting to know everything about him. what drives him, what pisses him off, where he wants to go and who he wants to be. beneath his calm, collected and commanding aura there is a man whose heart holds many secrets. a man you want to know… and might even want to be with.

the very thought of being with nanami makes you shy where you wish that you weren’t. maybe then, you could tell the blonde office man how handsome you thought he looked while concentrating on filing reports and paperwork. perhaps you could then steel your nerves and stop the shake in your voice while telling him how much you like the low dip in his own when he explains KPIs and stock markets to you. not to mention how hard he works on keeping his patience with not just you… but the interns megumi, nobara and yuuji as well (yuuji was the brother of someone your boss new very well back in college, apparently). the ways in which he’s taken the young trio under your wing, it’s a wonder you haven’t had baby fever yet.

nanami even extends the same grace to your man-child of a boss, he wouldn’t have stayed working for Gojo Corp and for satoru gojo if he didn’t. in some ways, they were like a little family at the company, and nanami was the responsible one always picking up gojo’s messes and holding the others together. 

especially on days when gojo came into work emotional over developments in his ex’s new life.

still, nanami stayed. 

and your crush on him bloomed like a light frost spreading across the double-glazed glass of a window. 

you felt your heartbeat speed up whenever nanami was close by and you could smell the ginger and cinnamon on him, not to mention, the hairs on the back of your neck would stand whenever your hands brushed over one another’s. nanami was warm on the inside, you knew that — he liked his interns, he cared for gojo especially when the days were tough (like when he holed himself up in his office after finding out his ex was getting engaged). he even brought lunch for the office floor. mostly soup for haibara whenever he got sick. 

you knew deep down that nanami was soft and loving — you felt that he needed love too. you wanted to be the one to give it to him, even if it was the last thing you did.

ATTEMPT #ONE - THE CHRISTMAS PARTY. 

satoru gojo’s office holiday parties were far from what was considered appropriate for the workplace. 

with thousand dollar bottles of booze and jars of caviar dotted about the main conference room — it was hard for anyone not to be in high spirits. the notes of cheery christmas carols drift through your ears and the tinsel that your boss had thrown over your shoulders scratches at your neck uncomfortably. you’re not one for buzzing celebrations like this, they’re too noisy and loud, but gojo has made you promise to attend this year's party… and he was oddly convincing for a manager this unserious. 

ultimately, you were glad that you’d decided to come because while being spoiled by your boss was all good and fun — it provided you with the perfect social setting and opportunity to speak to your longtime crush, nanami. 

like you, he wasn’t a fan of forced mingling in the office, and had no interest in consoling his tipsy manager who was currently crying up a storm into one of his poor intern’s shoulders. the blonde office man kept to himself, tucked away by the bright lights of the christmas tree as he nursed a piping hot coffee — he wouldn’t be getting drunk on company time. 

you manage to break away from conversing with shoko and make your way over to the latter co-worker, swallowing down your nerves with a swig of the moscato satoru had so generously picked out for you — knowing that you liked the sweeter stuff and that it would probably loosen your lips enough for you to get this over with (he and those interns were fully aware of how much you admired kento nanami). sliding up beside the man, your long, embroided skirts swish against his ankles — only serving to pull his attention away from his work phone and onto you. 

taking a sip of your drink to warm yourself up with liquid courage and break the ice — you hum, quietly. “any plans for the holidays, kento?” you ask him simply, and though your deep and gorgeous brown eyes stay trained on the bubbles in your glass — you can feel kento’s own chocolatey pair land on the side of your face. whether they’re scrutinising you or admiring you, you can’t actually tell.

if you were looking, you’d be able to see the way that the sharp edges of kento’s usual expression soften across his face — the straight line of his lips are parted, his furrowed brows becomes relax and his posture no longer ridged, but instead, at ease. if you were looking you’d know that out of all of his co-workers (aside from the interns), kento is most comfortable around you. he find your meek and cautious demeanour adorable and the way that you sometimes awkwardly flutter around him in conversations is cute. 

“not much, just working.” he responds quickly and shortly. to anyone else, they would have taken nanami’s reply as cold and callous, but you? you smile softly, glad that he’s even taking part in your small talk. 

you’ve always been a little quieter than most colleagues at Gojo Corp, but you’ve always tried your hardest to make connections and bring the group together. you care for the interns so deeply, helping them to learn from your initial mistakes at the organisation and to do better. he likes that you’re good company, knowing just the right things to ask and when, allowing for comfortable silences when no one in the team feels like talking.

nanami likes you. 

and perhaps that’s what makes him awkward around you as well, the very fact that he can’t find fault in you — that you’re too sweet and kind and gentle to complain about like he would with nagging gojo. what does he say to someone as wonderful as you?

he doesn’t want the moment to end, however. “how about you?” 

the blonde says your name softly, as though he’s testing it out on his tongue — and you can’t help the warmth that blooms like a spring rose in your chest at the honeysuckle sound. you’re hot all over and you’re sure it’s not the alcohol. 

“f-family!” you squeak shyly, voice high pitched as you fend off excitement — having nanami elaborate on your conversations isn’t a usual occurrence. coughing, you take a sip of your drink and knock it down a notch. not that kento would want you to, since he finds your enthusiasm to chat with him so endearing. “i have family…coming. o-over the break! flying in from abroad, so it’s going to be special.”  the blonde’s brow raises with interest, and you latch onto the opportunity to speak with him further, basking in your quiet moment together. “i’m not usually one to cook, but my mother and i will be handling dinner together! so it’ll be a mix of all sorts of foods. traditional and from our home country too.” 

nanami slips his work phone away in order to give you his full attention. “that sounds…wonderful,” he settles on saying. he wonders what your family is like, if they’re as shy and endearing as you or louder like that of the dynamics at the office. he imagines you surrounded by love, by laughter and warmth… and can’t help but yearn for the same. “i do miss home cooking, christmas in new york isn’t quite the same as japan.”

“t-then you’re welcome to spend christmas with us!” you blurt before your mind can even process what you’ve said. now you really must be drunk, or tipsy at the very least. who just invites their coworkers over to their house without getting to know them first. “we’ll have more than enough to fix you a plate…if you’d like,” despite your overexcited blunder, you remain hopeful that nanami will accept your invitation or at least get the hint. that you want to know him better and spend more time with him. 

but nanami doesn’t take the hint, he can’t seem to figure out why you’d want to spend time with him outside of work, and so, puts up a respectful boundary. nanami smiles and puts down the coffee he’d been drinking. “i wouldn’t want to impose on your time with family.” 

you frown, the stacked bricks of your excitement coming tumbling down. “kento that’s not what i meant—“ 

“look!” gojo cuts in, slurring from across the room as he points a shaky finger at the two of you by the tree. “they’re standin’ un’da the mistletoe!”

both yourself and nanami look up in disbelief to find yourselves standing under calculatedly placed mistletoe — no doubt due to the meddling of your boss. though you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to kiss nanami, it was more of question as to whether or not he wanted to kiss you.

“gojo, you’re drunk. and i really should be getting back to work.” kento insists, clearing his throat and immediately looking away from you with a bashful blush. you’re perfect, and darling, and to kiss you really would make kento’s day…but he’d never want to make you uncomfortable or put you on the spot like this. “i have budget reports for your meeting in a few hours.” 

“fuck the reports, don’t you wanna kiss the pretty lady?” nanami looks to you, shying away from the conversation and squirming under the sudden attention of the office party-goers. “i wouldn’t want to make her uncomfortable.” 

“i-i wouldn’t be.” comes your hushed whisper. 

nanami coughs to clear his throat, flustered by you. “are you sure?” 

having had enough of your back and forth, dancing around one another like two teenagers confessing to each other on white day — gojo steps in, forcing his drunk yet authoritarian hand. “come on nanamin,” the white haired man drawls impatiently. “if you don’t kiss her! i will!” 

“no!” you and nanami bark adamantly in unison — causing gojo to smirk and stagger happily while megumi and yuuji hold him up.

 “then go ahead and kiss. or i’ll have to fire you.” 

the idea of losing your job over a trivial christmas tradition is enough to spook you into agreeing. that and you couldn’t imagine kissing satoru gojo… the thought makes you gag to yourself. “fine,” nanami grunts before looking to and addressing you next, “do you mind?” 

you nod once, breath shaky. “it’s okay.” 

“where are you most comfortable being kissed?”

“um, i haven’t… i’ve not had my first yet so…” 

“ah, i see. i won’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable then.” hearing the news makes something weird… stir within the blonde’s firm chest. being your first kiss, his co-worker’s first kiss is an appealing thought — almost a little twisted and selfish for him. to have that honour, to be the one you would give it to, makes his head spin. 

gojo cute through his train of thought, however. “god, would you too hurry it up!”

nanami rolls his eyes at his boss (which would have gotten anyone else fired.) but let’s the corners of his pink lips quirk up into a subtle smile directed at you, and only you. cautiously, he leans down as though not to spook you like a deer in the woods, and takes your hand in his larger and more calloused one. “sorry about this.” he hums quietly, the rough pad of his thumbs traversing through the ridges of your knuckles. 

“i-it’s fine.” you repeat your earlier sentiment, holding your burning breath as kento drags the back of your hand up to his lips. dark brown eyes meet even darker ones — your gentle gazes meeting in the middle as the tensions rise within the conference room. your entire body melts like butter in a pan and your heart bursts out your chest with the crescendo of the christmas music in the background when kento nanami presses a soft chaste kiss to the back of your hand.

your kiss under the mistletoe. 

once he breaks eye contact and snaps out of it — nanami is quick to announce is departure, covering up his flustered expression. “now, i really must be getting back to work. thank you for the party gojo,  kids,”  he nods at you softly with an utterance of your name and leaves not long after, leaving you with a flurry of butterflies in your tummy. 

leaving you a sheepish, warm mess because while you had intended to ask nanami out and failed, you still managed to get somewhat of a kiss. 

you press your hand to your lips, feeling the warmth of kento’s lips embedded into the skin there. somehow, you find it within yourself to ignore gojo's whine for a proper mistletoe liplock in the background — choosing to focus on the lingering touch left by your crush.

“how about the receptionist, she’s into you!” you hear yuuji suggest, earning a cheer from your stupid silver haired boss. 

the three interns plus gojo disappear from the party after that, while you remain stuck in place like a statue made of stones— repeating the kiss in your head over and over again, in your thoughts drowning in images of kento nanami. 

ATTEMPT #TWO - THE SECRET SANTA.

“good morning, kento!”

“good morning to you too,” 

bristling from nanami’s warm greeting (as well as him calling you by your first name), you shuffle into the seat beside him with cold cheeks and bright eyes — doing your best to quietly shift out of your winter attire to make sure you don’t disturb the rest of the conference room. you’ve just snuck into the team meeting for Gojo Corp’s annual secret santa. this year would be your first time taking part and it took a hell of a lot of bribing (not really, just some locally made daifuku and the number of the receptionist gojo might be crushing on) to convince your boss to give you nanami for the special festive event. 

picking out a gift for your blonde haired and stoic presenting crush proved difficult at first. you already knew that kento spent a lot of time at the office, working hard and dedicating himself to hours of paperwork — but that wasn’t exactly useful to know when it came to gift giving. however, after weeks of gathering intel by tapping into whatever office buzz nanami was involved in and sharing short exchanges with him by the coffee cart outside of Gojo Corp, you’ve managed to learn two things about kento nanami.

one, his appreciation for something homemade or cooked — like the quaint family owned bakery not too far from the office. 

and two, his dream destination. the one place that he’s always wanted to vacation to — Kuantan, Malaysia. 

now you couldn’t exactly afford to just splurge and buy him a ticket over there, not to mention there was a considerate budget placed on gifts…but what you could do is bring nanami’s favourite things to the office. while gojo sets out the rules for staff, you gently place your carefully wrapped presents on the table before you, again, trying to avoid making a ruckus with the crinkling wrapping paper. 

“you’re a little later than usual.” nanami comments to you in a low tone, having been watching you this entire time. 

he would feel weird saying it out loud, but he notices that you’re always early into the office — clicking in around twenty minutes to nine every day and that you take your time in setting up your desk for the day. as though you have a routine to calm your anxieties.

“i had to stop by somewhere for a last minute gift.” you grin after a hushed quip. and nanami can’t help but find it contagious. you’re a warm ray of sunshine to him — one that he can’t help but want to bask under and be near, especially during this winter cold. you make kento feel at peace with your calm aura. the way you speak so tenderly and kindly. as he turns his attention back to a blabbering gojo, he finds himself growing jealous of whoever received your gift. whoever it is, he hopes that they appreciate your thoughtfulness.

after the rules are done, everything is exchanged between assigned pairs as gojo calls up who was responsible form who.

elation courses through nanami’s veins once he learns that his secret santa was you —  happy to know that he is about to be on the receiving end of your perfectly wrapped presents. 

“i hope you like them,” you bleat shyly, passing him the leopard print-covered gifts. the very sight makes him grin, since the paper matches his usual work tie.  

the blonde takes his time unwrapping each layer of paper — as if he doesn’t want to ruin all the hard work you put into presenting this perfectly for him. a strong wave of fondness crashes over your co-worker once the first present is revealed. nanami’s favourite, freshly baked sandwich from the japanese bakery downtown. the one he visits every day, and the same sandwich he orders every time. the one that fills him with nostalgia and reminds him of home. 

the next gift is even more thoughtful, and he fights off the urge to clutch his chest — as if cupid has shot an arrow right through his heart and made it yearn for you and your kindness. it’s a crocheted water lily, like those found in the Taman Gelora park in Malaysia. the same park that nanami has always wanted to go to. 

there’s a little postcard of the location too — with a note scribbled in your precise handwriting, wishing nanami a happy christmas. he tries not to dwell on the heart signed next to your name.

your saccharine voice slices through kento’s wild and appreciative thoughts delicately and he spares you a glance, watching your features as they illuminate with happiness from his reaction. you can tell that he likes your gift, and that fills you both with joy. “i heard from a little bird that you’ve always wanted to take a trip to Kuantan. and while i couldn’t get you a ticket myself, i figured these would be the next best thing. plus some food for your flight.” you joke while nanami thumbs the ridges of the yarn making up his water lily gift. 

he laughs then, remembering how yuuji had grilled him about his dream vacation weeks back. it must have been for you. 

you’re so selfless and thoughtful, it still blows the blonde office man’s mind that you would have gone through the trouble of getting him such a gift. most times, colleagues at Gojo Corp settle for fancy chocolates or snooty vouchers for department stores… but you used so much of your own time and effort to create something that kento nanami would truly appreciate. it drives him mad that he can’t seem to figure out why. why would you do something so nice for him? 

“i wish i could have gotten you something in return.” he mumbles fondly.

“i don’t need anything from you kento,” you say sweetly, making his heart race as you put your hand over his. “i appreciate you and you’re my friend. i don’t need anything more.” you figure now is a bad time to confess to him, in front of everyone. though you might have chosen the wrong words — because while you do want more from nanami, he now thinks that you don’t, pulling away from you slightly. “i… i appreciate everything you do for the company. a-and i like spending time with you. being your friend.” 

you facepalm internally, knowing you could have worded yourself better — but the realisation comes a little too late, for nanami is already pulling away from you, his once soft smile falling into place with the harsh lines of a frown. “thank you for the gifts,” he says, a little colder. now that he’s figured out why you truly made him those gifts. you see nanami as a friend, a good one. nothing more, like he had secretly hoped. “i must be getting back to work.” 

“o-oh but kento—“ he looks down at you icily, you have no idea why he’s being so cold. he hasn’t a clue either, it’s not like you know of his affections or fondness towards you. you thought that calling yourselves  friends would be just fine… at least until you found the confidence to confess properly. “nanami…did i offend you? i didn’t mean to pry with your gifts! i just wanted them to be perfect—“

“—you’re fine. just… duty calls. paperwork.” 

“oh, right.” you reply, weak and defeated, thinking that he’s mad at you. rejecting you again. “good luck nanami…”

“thanks,” he mumbles. “for this, and the gift.” 

“you’re welcome,” you say, mostly to yourself but before you can say more he’s disappeared from the conference room and gone back to his cubicle. 

ATTEMPT #THREE - THE EVE OF CHRISTMAS.

as mentioned before, your boss isn’t exactly the serious type.

satoru gojo is silly and often irresponsible in regards to work. he’s had a lot to deal with and a lot to learn, he covers his mistakes with charms and smiles, but he’s learning. and when it comes down to it, satoru cares for the company, the office and most importantly —  his staff.

which is why he makes it a rule that no one in his main team should work over the christmas period — with no exceptions. 

of course, the ever-dedicated kento nanami has always found a loop-hole in avoiding the festive rule and his manager’s simple christmas wish. which is why, much to your chargin, satoru has meddled a little bit and sent you into the office to send nanami home. usually you wouldn’t mind the opportunity to speak with your crush, but after your second rejection from him in such a short space of time, you’re not so sure your little heart can take seeing the man before the holidays. 

you’d agreed to satoru’s request nonetheless, your family didn't arrive until tomorrow and you couldn’t live with yourself if you let kento work through the night. you still had feelings for him after all. 

when you arrive at your office, it’s dark and dim — matching the evening and it’s weather outside. you assume that any cleaning staff have already gone home, instructed by nanami who would also hate to keep people behind on Christmas Eve. it seems like him to offer to clean up after himself.

rounding the corner, you spot him in the conference room, tucked away by the tree from your christmas party as he taps away at his work laptop — no doubt finishing the Q3 report. you push past the glass door and make your way inside, tugging your scarf, hat and coat off while you watch nanami work. you hang them all up on a nearby coat rack.

“i know you’re there,” he speaks into the dark silence. “is that you, satoru? i’m not going home.” 

“actually, satoru sent me in here to make sure you weren’t working on Christmas Eve.” you respond in an even tone, ignoring the slash of hurt over your heart when nanami fails to even spare you so much as a glance upon hearing your dulcet voice. 

he instead scoffs, returning to his work. “tell him that i’m fine. i don’t need to be babysat. i know when to take a break.” kento doesn’t why he’s being so harsh with you, it’s not like you knew of his feelings. calling him your friend had been a token of kindness, but he let his rationality slip away and acted out because… what? he was afraid of your rejection?

despite his mean words, you stand your ground and refuse to leave kento alone. “i figured you might say that, so i bought you some food. these are cookies from the bakery that you like and they should keep you going,” you rummage in your tote for a small of cookies — pushing them across the large conference table for your stubborn blond co-worker. “the girl that works there is sweet. maybe we should go sometime, we can take a break from your work and have some cold turkey sandwiches ahead of Christmas Day—“

“if i wanted sweets i would have called up that meddling boss of ours, satoru,” nanami seethes, losing his patience. the more he looks at you, those big brown eyes and your soft, beautiful face, the more hurt he feels, the more nauseated he feels knowing that you might not like him the way he likes you. as  just friends, instead of something more. “why are you here?” 

you blink back your suprise. “w-what?” 

“don’t you have family to be spending the night with?”

“i do it’s just… i worry about you, nanami. you work too hard, it’s christmas.” 

“i really, really would like to finish the report so i can go home.” 

your face scrunches up with rage and using that same fury, you march over the blonde man in three short strides — grabbing his chair and whirling him around to face you. you slam his laptop closed with enough power to shatter the damn thing, fixing nanami to look at you. ”what is wrong with you?” 

“pardon?” 

“i’ve… i’ve been trying all month to show you how much..how much i care about you and how much i like you. but it’s like you don’t even see me.” your voice warbles despite how angry you are, tears threatening to spill over the edge of your lashes. everything hurts, you don’t know what you’ve done to make nanami resent you in the way that he does now. perhaps if you were different, more confident and self assured maybe he would notice your gestures and implications. maybe he would like you back.

you wish for the darkness of the office to swallow you whole and make you disappear as you and nanami do nothing but stare blankly at each other. however, the lights on the obnoxious christmas tree continue to flash in the corner — illuminating the crystal tears clumped in your lashes and the slope of your features with a perfect golden glow. nanami sees you, he always has…but what good would a man like him be to a girl like you? sure, he wants to settle down, wants christmas with someone he loves, somewhere comfortable where he doesn’t have to worry about a thing — let alone money.

…but nanami is a tough nut to crack, he keeps to himself so much that even now you’re struggling hard to get him to speak his truth, and his feelings. he wouldn’t want you to give up trying even while he struggles to open up. 

“i see you.” finally, kento finds his confidence and admits his truth to you. “i always have.” 

he stands from his seat, towering over you and you stumble back. “do you? i’ve tried so hard… to tell you…”

the blonde leans down to your height and your words trail off, overwhelmed by him. “to tell me what?” 

he prays that you can’t hear the pound of his heart against his ribcage or the blood rushing through his ears… but nanami has never stepped out of line or taken a risk and if he doesn’t, break the rules, he could risk losing the one good thing at this god forsaken place. “that i… that i like you. kento. i-i’m fond of you.” you exhale through your words, succumbing to everything that makes up kento nanami. his scent, gingerbread and fresh mint, makes you dizzy, his proximity makes your world tilt on its axis and you’re so nervous that you latch onto the collar of his dark blue dress shirt to keep yourself steady. 

nanami seizes the opportunity to pour into you every emotion that he can’t bring himself to say. his large hands settle gingerly on the small of your back and his warm breath coasts over your fleshly lower lip, as if to ask for permission to kiss you properly. “may i?” comes his timbre voice, equality as shaky as yours had been earlier. you shake your head ‘yes’, giving nanami your consent to press his lips against your own in a life changing kiss. the action is tender, guiding you in all of the right places where you lack experience. the fists you'd formed in the collar of his shirt loosen the more that nanami works your lips in his gentle kiss — warming the frost over your little heart. 

“i’m quite fond of you too,” he says your name after finally giving you the room that you need to breathe and kento brushes a thumb over your the swell bottom lip before he kisses you gently again. “i’m sorry i didn’t say so earlier.” 

still holding onto him, a breathy chuckle escapes you as if you’re in shock. “w-what…what changed your mind? i thought you didn’t like me like that…”

“it wasn’t my mind that needed changing. it was the way i saw how you felt about me… i should have asked instead of assuming you only saw me as a friend. that was my mistake,” nanami explains carefully, choosing his words wisely. “you’ve been fair and kind to me, and i failed to give you the same grace due to my own doubts. i admire you, and should have confessed to you sooner but i—“ 

“but you wanted to finish working first, i get it.” you giggle and lean up to peck kento on the lips, stealing the words right out of his mouth. “just… please talk to me next time. i thought you were mad at me.” 

your blonde co-worker, crush and now.. partner? (that was to be decided) gives your waist an apologetic squeeze — acknowledging his mistakes. “i owe you that much,” he replies warmly, “now how about those turkey sandwiches you were talking about?” nanami questions you awkwardly, in his own charming way of asking you out for a date on christmas eve. 

after packing up and like a gentleman, he retrieves your scarf, hat and coat from the nearby coat rack by the door and gently pulls them over you one by one. like he cares, like he might even love you. he even zips you up to protect your cheeks from the bitter cold. nanami folds his own coat over the bend of his and grasps your hand firmly in his — keeping you close as you walk out of the office, a newly formed christmas couple. 

somewhere off in the distance, the boss of the Gojo Corp office watches with a sly grin. while satoru might not have gotten his holiday romance, he’s glad his little plan was enough to get yourself and nanami together. 

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[knavesflames]

hiii 🩷 i saw that you like raiden... i was wondering if we could have a fem!reader sucking her strap 🫣 maybe while wearing a collar & leash, and some praise from raiden?🩷 (she probably isn't good at it, but she tries!!)

- 🍰

Hi 🍰 anon!! Sorry this took literally so fucking long :( I also forgot to include the leash and the collar D: either way, reader sucking strap… yummy

Word count: 1022

Contents: reader sucks The Strap, mentions of praying, devotion to a god, yeah

Nsft utc!

For someone who meditated in isolation for 500 years, her skills in bed are.. about what you’d expect. She’s clumsy, unsure, but all she ever seems to want to do is please you. On occasion, when you request something she’s unsure she can fulfill, she orders the Shogun instead. Even though the Shogun is different, more robotic, less emotional, only saying and doing what she is programmed to, Ei watches, memorising the way she had memorised the Mosou No Hitotachi all those years ago. Of course, you’d much rather Ei do it herself, but the fact she’s a powerful god, the slayer of orobashi, means nothing when she’s alone with you.

“I do not understand your request. You want to.. suck it?” She asks softly, a tilt of her head causing her purple braid to sway gently with the movement. “I do,” you murmur, your finger gently tracing the vein on the strap she had so carefully crafted for you. Made from pure electro energy, it gave the perfect buzz when she needed it to, but only when she wanted it to. You loved it, and it gave you what you needed. Plus, the sounds you made when you were both alone in Tenshukaku sounded better than anything she had ever heard. “I think it would be fun. I think.. I don’t know. I want to try it.”

“I do not wish to hurt you, my petal. If you require the Shogun, you really must say—“ you cut her off with a firm shake of your head. You don’t want the Shogun. Quite frankly, you’re sick of the Shogun. You don’t want to look up, mid groan, only to see the puppet with its emotionless eyes. You want the woman you love, the god you worship so dearly. You’d be a liar if you said you hadn’t gotten on your knees in other ways for her, kneeling at the shrine and praying for unholy things. You wonder if she hears your prayers (she does. She listens with her mouth slightly open and her breath quickening, and yet, she can never do anything about it). You assume she does not. You love her anyway.

“I see. You do not wish to engage with the Shogun any longer.”

“No. I do not worship a puppet, I worship the divine being stood in front of me. Do the thing.”

“What thing?” Again, she’s confused. You sigh. You wonder why she has to be so clueless for a god so old and smart.

“Make it vibrate. I want you to feel good.” Ei’s problem is that she can’t accept pleasure. At least, not from anyone but herself. Long mediation sessions that only include thinking about the faces you make every time she hits the right spot, or kisses the right place. Watching over you with the omnipresence she so happily flaunts as you touch yourself to the thought of her (and, on occasion, being tag teamed by her and the Shogun. You’ll never ask).

“Oh.” Speechless, is the god who is so feared and respected by the nation. The nation who seems to have no idea how shy and flustered she can truly get. “Right. If you wish, then I shall oblige. Anything for you.”

When she fastens the hand crafted strap onto herself, her own breath hitches at the slight sensation. Neither of you know exactly how to work this situation with the small vibrations, but the fact you can feel your heartbeat between your own legs and the way you notice you can’t take your eyes off of it, you know that it’s the only thing you’re thinking about, and damn the archons if you don’t get to. Tentatively, you let your tongue move across the surface of it. Her violet eyes pierce down at you— she doesn’t mean for it to be, but it’s slightly intimidating nonetheless (maybe that’s what you like). You see the softness that lies beneath anyway.

“I think you need to hold my head, it’s— it’s big, and I’ve never done this before.”

“Hold your head? Is that not violent? I will not injure you for pleasure.” She states, but when you gently explain that it’ll help, her hand slowly moves to your hair. Her fingers, smooth despite the centuries of fighting, weave through your hair before gripping a small handful. Looking at you with her eyebrows knitted, waiting for a sign of consent, she stands still. When you give that sign, a murmured “please”, she begins to help your mouth and throat adjust by pushing you down. She’s gentle, almost a little too gentle, but the second you make that tiny little sound, she gasps. Your own eyes flutter to hers, a silent look of consent.

She’s hesitant at first, her hand barely guiding you, but when she starts losing herself at the sight of your eyes (beginning to water with what can only be described as tears of pure, unadulterated devotion), she lets herself loose, gently testing the waters with a roll of her hips. At the pleased choking sound you make, she does it again, and again, until she builds a rhythm, her breath coming out in little pants and stifled groans. Her lip is bitten in any attempt to hide the fact she’s enjoying this more than she thought she would. When a small whimper finally breaks through, she lets her head tilt back. Ei has decided she can’t look at you any longer or she’ll probably cum at the sight of you with spit on your chin and wet eyelashes.

Ei is a sensitive being, believe it or not. Unfortunately, for her and her ego, she does, in fact orgasm at the sight of you, the vibrations secretly doing nothing for her. She lies, and tells you that the vibrations did the trick. You know, it's different. You say nothing. You wouldn’t dare disrespect your god and accuse her of deceit.

And of course, when she notices the fact you’re throbbing, her hands gently pry your thighs apart, her braid tickling your ankles as she brings you to an eternity of pleasure.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Hi I was wondering if u can do more roommate Ethan landry like he walks out of his room to find reader in the kitchen with lingerie and SMUT u can add the rest I love ur work btw🧸

Request: Reader with a slight exibitionist kink where she likes to flash her tits in public places to tease Ethan and Ethan gets hard every time

This smut sucks and I'm so sorry

Warnings: 18+, public nudity, oral (m receiving), 

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Ever since he drunkenly confessed to being a virgin and having never seen a girl naked before, teasing your roommate became your favorite hobby. The best way to do so, you found, was by randomly flashing him in public places. In the subway, during your morning runs in Central Park, or even in your apartment building's hallway. 

It was amusing to watch him get flustered and whine every time. 

Your favorite one was at the bodega down the street when getting snacks. 

It was never anything too scandalous. Just a quick flash of one of your breasts when nobody but him was looking. 

Little did you know, all those teasings were driving Ethan crazy. The number of public boners he got lately was embarrassing. All because of your pretty tits. God he wished he could cum on them and paint you with his cum. 

A couple of weeks of teasing later, the game was still just as fun as the first time. You thought Ethan would get less flustered with time, but he didn’t. His whines turned into groans, getting more annoyed at you than scandalized. There were a few incidents where someone else got a peak too, like that one time in the subway, but you got out before the man could come sit next to you and try to get a grope. 

‘’Tara changed her mind, by the way,’’ you told Ethan while finishing your slice of overpriced cherry pie at the café around the block. ‘’She will be joining us on Friday. She and Sam got into an argument and she wants to piss her off by going to the Kappa Phi party.’’

Ethan frowned. ‘’Won’t this aggravate the situation?’’ he asked, already done with his late lunch and just playing on his phone. 

You nodded. ‘’Probably, but Tara is set on pissing her off more.’’

‘’This is not gonna end well and I don’t want to be there when it blows up.’’ 

‘’Me either.’’ You looked around to see if anyone was looking your way, then pulled the top of your cami and flashed a boob. ‘’I can’t finish. I’m full. Do you want the rest of my cherry pie?’’ 

‘’I told you not to take the pie—’’ His words were cut off when he looked up. ‘’Ugh, please stop,’’ Ethan whined half-heartedly, covering his face with his palm to hide how flustered he was. 

You giggled in return, pushing your plate toward him. ‘’Your face matched the pie’s filling.’’ 

In the midst of the jokes and all the teasing, you fell into the cliché of falling for your roommate and found yourself developing feelings for Ethan. You didn’t think this would happen when you signed the lease, but he was sweet, dorky and surprisingly muscled under his preppy polos.  

The problem was, you tried to flirt with Ethan, but he was rather clueless when it came to understanding girls' intentions. Seeing that your hints weren't working, you decided to take a more direct approach. You bumped up your teasing by dressing in lingerie and casually strolling around the apartment one Sunday morning. Perhaps this would finally make him realize your feelings for him.

The bra and panty set you chose was light pink and barely covered anything. It was a guaranteed boner. 

In Ethan’s routine, Sundays were for staying in and watching movies or catching up on his readings for Monday’s classes. However, this Sunday was different. When Ethan woke up and went to get the coffee machine working, he stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of his roommate standing in the kitching in lingerie. 

‘’Shit. Sorry. I didn’t know you were up.’’ 

You turned around when you heard his voice and saw Ethan’s eyes were wide like a deer caught in headlights, pieces of curly hair sticking up at the back from moving during his sleep.  

He gulped, averting his eyes from your body and trying to stay calm — in other words, trying to not get a boner. ‘’Did you have someone over? You probably do… I didn’t hear anything though, which is strange because these walls are paper-thin.’’ Ethan covered his face with his palms, immediately regretting that last sentence. ‘’Eh, I can go to Chad’s and come back later when your date leaves—’’ he rushed, stumbling over his words. 

‘’There’s no one here. I dressed up for you,’’ you responded with a playful smile.

Your words hung in the air, a mix of anticipation and uncertainty enveloping the room.

‘’For me?’’ Ethan echoed skeptically.

You nodded, looking up at him sweet and innocent as you awaited his response. ‘’Do you like it?’’ 

Ethan twitched in his sweatpants, his mouth unable to form any words. 

‘’I've been trying to drop hints, but it's like you're immune to them. So, I thought maybe this would make it a bit clearer…’’ You stepped closer to him, pushing your shoulders back to make your chest more forward. 

Ethan's cheeks flushed a shade of pink darker than your lingerie. He scratched his head, a shy smile tugging at his lips. It was too early for this kind of confession. His brain was barely awake. ‘’I... I didn't realize. I thought you were just teasing me because of me being a virgin.’’ 

‘’Initially. But I found myself developing a strange liking to the dorky virgin I was teasing,’’ you said, taking a step closer to him and closing the gap between you. ‘’What do you say we stop playing, Roomie?’’ You reached between your breasts and unclasped your bra, freeing Ethan’s two enemies for the last few months. 

Not knowing what to respond, Ethan simply kissed you. 

While he lacked experience, it wasn’t his first kiss. He had kissed a few girls during high school…and had a lot of practice kissing the back of his hand. 

Luckily for him, you were there to show him the ropes, your hands wandering up and wrapping around his neck to pull your body closer. He gasped softly against your mouth, feeling your breasts press against his chest through his shirt, your body warmth sending waves of electricity through him. 

You slid one hand underneath his worn Star Wars shirt and Ethan pulled back when he felt his cock twitch again. And since your body was so close to his, you felt it too. 

‘’Sorry… It’s just—’’

You shook your head. ‘’It’s okay. I got you,’’ you assured with a sweet smile, wanting to make him feel not so anxious about his lack of experience. You wanted him to focus on what you were going to do to him. ‘’I got you.’’ 

You pressed your lips to Ethan’s once more, taking his hands as you kissed and running them over your body. They found the path to your breasts and Ethan couldn’t help but give them a small squeeze, making you laugh softly. Of course he would do that. 

As you slid down him to the floor, Ethan’s breath caught in his throat. You felt him tense and looked up, telling him it’s gonna be okay. He nodded and you pursued, undoing his  dark grey sweatpants and slowly pulling them down. His boxers were already tented as you moved your hand over his hard cock, a small wet spot of precum making the fabric a darker color.

Ethan was pleasantly big, but not so massive you would need two hands. You slowly slid your hand down the shaft, maintaining the slightest pressure. At the base you grasped a bit harder and dragged your hand back to the now reddish head, circling it in your fist.

‘’Aah fuck,’’ Ethan moaned out. It felt much better than his own hand.

You giggled at his reaction and continued your ministries. ‘’I haven’t put my mouth on you yet.’’ 

‘’I don’t ca—’’ his voice was cut by another moan, his whole body shuddering as you leaned forward to give him a long lick from base to tip. 

You kept licking up and down his shaft, wanting to get him nice and wet as you moved your hands to his balls. Ethan threw his head back, the muscles of his thighs flexing. He was going to cum fast, as most first-timers embarrassingly did. 

Not wanting him to spill before the fun began, you opened your lips and took the weeping, engorged head into your mouth. 

‘’Fuck, that feels so good!’’ he moaned out weakly, his hands searching for something to grab, something to hold onto.

You grinned around his cock and opened your mouth wider, taking as much of him in your mouth as you could. 

After a little over a minute, Ethan couldn’t hold it anymore. He was a whimpering and moaning mess above you, gripping the countertop to keep his control. As soon as you felt the first spurt of cum in your mouth, you pulled off and let him cum all over your breasts, painting them in white ribbons. 

You had never done this before, but you thought Ethan would like it. And he did. 

When he was done, he looked down at you, cum running down your chin, and whined as his cock twitched.

—

Scream taglist: @misfityanii @beautybyfire @iluvscream191 @mariposa555 @bella7866 @o638 @lulubelle14 @luvvtxinityy @frasersgf  @Eddiefrickenmunson @jasperr-the-friendly-ghost @ghostf4cee @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @wandaswigglywoos @xjennyx2 @jennasslut @thatonesblog  @mikaelsonsstuff @icarly23 @tcddszn  @bt.oliana  @skyesthebomb @a1mzcruml3y @red1culous @iluurmom @popeheywardssecretgf @michaelangdonsslut @byhrxb @kamthecoolest @kattybug @ravenstrueluv @landryslxys @die4niyahhh  @sl4sh3rfuck3r @radiant-whore  @Meadzy21 @luci1fer @nomorespahgetti  @bloodyhw  @depthsofdespairr  @bellysbeach @wilmalovegood @loupiotesworld  @wenvierismycomfort @t-candy  @s-al-em  @darylscvmdumpster  @tommysaxes  @adaydreamaway08 @johannelis2302nely  @aqshua @lynbubble  @luiise  @planetkt  @vampyrgoff

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade  @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn  @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @marzipaanz  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart  @xyzstar  @graceberman3  @Heartsforneteyamsully  @aerangi  @hallecarey1  @bxbyyyjocelyn @mikeyspinkcup

[candyk0rn]

Comforting your tears-BG3

If they found you crying

Ugh I know my old friends are sick of this prompt because I’ve probably done it one hundred times..but can you blame me??

Before reading: gn reader, Angst (if you squint) with comfort, Astarion x reader, Gale x reader, Halsin x reader (separate)

Astarion:

Astarion has shed his fair share of tears in his prolonged life

Not recently, of course (Unless this takes place after a certain quest line…)

And he’s used to seeing others cry, wether they be his conquests when they realize his actual intentions,

Wether he sees a lost child in the night sobbing for his mother,

Wether it be a sad woman mourning a loss in the darkened graveyard

But he’s never seen you cry, and he’s never craved that sight either

He’s not sure why you were crying, and he doesn’t take time to ask you that

Because if he’s being honest, he doesn’t know what to do

He has never once had to comfort another’s tears, and if he ever has, there was always an ulterior motive

But here you were, trying to suck back floods of tears before him

And all he could do was stand still, a small furrow in his brow

In all honesty, he waits for you to do something first

To reach for him, to say his name, anything

Even just telling him to go away would be enough, because it would give him the slightest bit of direction

If you shove him away, without hesitation he shall flee

But if you move the slightest bit, he rushes to your side

His hand twitch as they hold you, not knowing if this is truly what you need to feel better

But perhaps, these hands which have killed many,

Can also comfort.

Gale:

Similar to Astarion, he’s not quite sure what the best remedy for a broken heart is

But he is a lot less clueless

When he sees you, he wishes so badly to take all of your pain and inflict it onto himself

He’d rather die than see you like this again

He thinks back to his youth, how his mother would confer him when he would cry or become upset

He also thinks ‘How would I want to be comforted?” Only to be bombarded with thoughts of Tara purring sleepily in his lap

So that wasn’t gonna work

He silently takes you in his arms, rubbing loving circles into your back

He kisses your temple, whispering ‘What’s wrong?’ Into your ear

If you shake your head or don’t respond, he’s not going to push you for any more information

If you begin to tell him, he listens diligently, not interrupting you

He rocks you back and forth, hoping he’s helping you in some way

My bro is trying his best 💪

Halsin:

Halsin is easier than the other two because omg he’d be the best at comforting you

Like Gale, he would just scoop you up in his arms and shower you with affection

He’s also a very smooth talker

You need him to distract you? He already has a story to tell you

You need him to whisper loving nothings into your ear? He’s gonna make it his life goal to make your cheeks grow red

He takes your hand in his, placing it atop of his chest, allowing you to feel the soft rise and fall of his breathing

This is something he does often, waiting for you to follow suit

Times like these are precious to him, because it shows him that you feel able to be vulnerable around him

In his eyes, vulnerability is so beautiful, even if it leaves your face tear stained and red

He presses his lips to your temple, lingering for a long moment

He wouldn’t mind staying like this for a while

Thanks for reading!!

[eskumii]

yandere!incel!tomura shigaraki + foreigner!darling who can't speak japanese

TITLE: " RENT-A-GF " — navi.

NOTES: nsfw (18+ only) below the cut (non-con!! somnophilia!!) reminder: this is merely fantasy, i don't condone. will prob proofread someday lol. enjoy!

PAIRING: yandere!incel!shigaraki tomura x foreinger!reader

GENRE/AU: shigaraki is rlly misogynistic and delusional, age gap (you're older), reader is a substitute english teacher who got kidnapped by bwad gwuys and is now... yeah

CHARACTERS: shigaraki tomura (21), reader (24)

let's be for real: shigaraki was born to be an incel.

and incel!shigaraki is shamelessly self-aware of this, indeed. when he's not out terrorizing innocent citizens with his villainous coups, he takes to the internet to fulfill his insatiable need for an adrenaline rush. gorey video games and brutal death metal makes him light up in glee, but sometimes it's just not enough.

so, instead, he's a frequent on the dark web, diligently scouring sites that specialize in obscure female porn collectives that cater to his twisted kinks. incel!shigaraki glowers at the pictures of stupid, slutty women who prance around in sexy lingerie, but still gets a hard-on because he wishes he had a woman who would do that for him and him only.

and what shigaraki wants, he gets. on another sweaty night in his dark bedroom, he's boredly clicking through the hundreds of entries of women who are being sold for, what he thinks, too high of a price. not that money would ever be a problem for him; if he felt compelled to, he could just kidnap the girl he wanted all over again. so, no, it's not the price—it's what he thinks they're worth based on his attraction to them.

and, so far, all of them are worthless.

you see, the conundrum is that incel!shigaraki has a thing for foreign girls. don't ask why, he doesn't know. maybe he finds it cute that they're so clueless about his culture and language, and he's the one who'll control the narrative that rules their ignorance. maybe it's so cute how they wear their perpetual confusion on their face at all times, like a bratty kid who can't navigate the world without mommy or daddy by their side.

of course, though, women could hardly do anything on their own anyway. every time he came across one they'd wail and cry as he grabbed them by the hair and threatened to kill them if they didn't shut the hell up. they'd beg for their lives or scream for someone to save them, but it would only piss him off more at how useless and brainless they tended to be. he just couldn't help but decay them—they were so noisy and whiny, it wasn't his fault.

obviously, shigaraki has neither patience nor experience with women. in fact, he can probably count with two fingers how many times he's had a non-violent interaction with a woman in his entire lifetime. the mere thought of this drives his insecurities to the brink of rage, but it's not his fault women are so unbelievably tasteless in their choice of men. it's their fault he has to go to such lengths to find a decent woman worthy of his presence.

but imagine his delight when he happens upon a listing of you, an immediately attractive foreign woman who used to be an english substitute teacher of all things. he clicks through your pictures with a renewed vigor, his interest piqued as he studies your unique features. eagerly, he scours through your posted information and it turns out that you happen to be exactly the kind of woman he's looking for.

it's a done deal. the transaction takes less than a few minutes and incel!shigaraki couldn't be more pleased with how smoothly it went. he'll have to leave a good review later on, when and if the woman he's just bought has satisfied him.

it takes just one night before shigaraki finds you literally dropped off at his doorstep like an amazon prime package. you’ve clearly been pampered with the way you’re clad in a skimpy maid outfit; your nails, hair, and makeup are all dolled to perfection. you look exactly like you did in the pictures.

and clearly you're wise beyond your years. you don't speak much because of the obvious language barrier, but you do seem to understand a bit of elementary japanese. shigaraki is delighted by your small mutterings of broken japanese—it’s unbelievably cute. sometimes he'll force you to speak in japanese just because he loves watching you struggle with your limited vocabulary.

incel!shigaraki gets attached to you. you're very attractive in his eyes, and he's completely ecstatic that you're all his. a woman he can do whatever he wants with, and no one would dare question him. the immense power trip sends him over the edge.

that being said, the first couple of weeks are still rather... awkward. you're not happy about being in the situation you're in, but you're smart enough to keep that to yourself. you don't fuss when shigaraki orders you to fetch him liquor or tidy up his filthy room, nor do you complain when he commands you to cuddle with him or keep him company while he plays video games.

"[name], c'mere," he'd bark at you, eyes still glued to the tv screen.

"be a good girl and keep my lap warm, hm?"

he'll force you to wear cute lingerie sets like he's seen the women on porn sites do. somehow you look so much better though, and it feels as though you're teasing him with the way you bend over so much while cleaning. the outline of your pussy through the small fabric that stretches over it has him horny in a matter of seconds. you're such a tease, aren't you ashamed? you just can't seem to stay in line.

however, despite all your obvious sexual innuendos towards him, shigaraki gets no relief. he's resorted to jacking off whenever you go to sleep but no matter how hard or how much he cums, there's an itch that can't be scratched with masturbation alone. and the way you're so shy around him is adorable, sure, but your little playing-hard-to-get act wasn't cutting it anymore.

the remedy? incel!shigaraki starts slipping sleeping pills into your food and drinks.

and it doesn't take long for shigaraki to develop a routine of visiting you while you're sleeping. partly to check up on you and assure himself of your presence, but mostly to creep around the edges of the bed and feel you up. you sleep so soundly that you don't even twitch when he fondles your soft breasts or runs his spindly fingers over your curves.

he almost doesn't want to disturb you; you look so peaceful, totally different than the frightened little faces you muster when you're awake. but the bothersome tightness stretching his boxers taut against its stitches makes it hard to resist his urges. anyway, you're simply doing the only thing a woman is good for: using your body to please him.

his breath is hot and heavy, laced with lust and selfish perversion as he defiles you to get himself off. some nights he just sits and admires your beauty, caressing your face with clumsy, inexperienced fingertips. some nights your shirt is pulled up so he can marvel at how nicely your breasts sit in whatever color bra he forced you to wear.

other nights his cock is nestled between them, thrusting like his life depends on it, chasing that euphoric high he gets when he finally spills his seed across your hardening nipples. and other nights shigaraki is even more daring—cute pajama pants and panties below your knees, face buried between your thighs as he explores every inch of your sweet cunt. he knows it's wrong, but so what? he's a villian, that's what makes it feel so right.

when you make faces in your sleep, he's filled with so much genuine affection—it's almost as if you're telling him he's doing a good job. you love it, don't you? he so desperately wants to hear you cry his name in that precious accent of yours and run your hands through his hair as you lavish your praise upon him for making you cream so many times.

he can't keep his eyes off you. so soft and compliant. you're so pretty while he's stuffing his cock into you and relentlessly flicking your little clit, not stopping even when he feels you clench around him like a vice as you orgasm over and over. not stopping even though you're drooling all over the linen sheets and he's came twice already.

"that's right... y-you gonna cum again? you gonna—ngh—cum all over my cock, you dumb whore?"

shigaraki watches with glassy, intrigued eyes as you squirm ever so slightly, face warped into one of undeniable pleasure as he ravages your gushing pussy. you're such a good girl for him, letting him use you as he wishes.

you're the woman he's chosen to give his virginity to. he's so happy and content that when he cums inside of you for the third time, he doesn't pull out. instead, shigaraki gently maneuvers your body so he can spoon you from behind, whispering tender "i love you's" as if he knows what that means. absently grinding his hips because your warmth is so comforting around his sticky, softening dick.

as much as shigaraki wants to stay and pound you into the mattress all night, the sleeping medication doesn't last forever. not to mention the mess you've made; the sheets are completely ruined and your clothes are strewn about on the floor, long forgotten. it's hot in your room and it stinks of his cum and sweat, but it doesn't really matter. the only thing on his mind is you and how he'll ruin you again tomorrow night.

for now, though, he rewards you for being so good by cleaning you up, smirking whenever you unconsciously nuzzle up to his touch. when your clothes are back on, he plants a tender kiss on your forehead and admires your flushed face from the shadows of your bedside. when the sun begins to rise and you stir in your ignorance, he'll sneak out and act as if nothing ever happened.

incel!shigaraki who doesn't deny that you're just another stupid slutty woman, but you're the only woman he'll ever want to cum inside of. when he returns to his room, he remembers to pull up your archived listing on his computer and dazedly taps away at his keyboard.

"10/10 recommend"

[otkuhotgirl]

─── 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐔𝐄 .

# with roronoa zoro.

roronoa zoro had a bounty of over one billion berries for his head — and prided himself in it. particularly, out of all of his crimes, you thought that his most heinous one yet had been to dress himself that fine while you were not around to see it.

⎰ & suggestive. mdni. thirsting over wano!zoro. reunion after whole cake. implied fem!reader. no y/n used. i need this man carnally. no spoilers!

W.C: 1.7K

the whole cake island incident had taken less than a week to be solved, and yet, it felt as though you had spent an entire decade and more into that miserable and forsaken place. upon approaching the location where the rest of your crew was stationed at — with your stupid swordsman you so yearned to reunite with — you foolishly believed that the coast was clear.

one single hour with him was all you hoped for. hell, ten minutes would have been enough for the time being. but as so it seemed, fate was a sadistic worm that threw battle after battle onto your lap, against foes stronger than you would have wished for, and whose mere existence was enough to divide the crew for yet longer periods of time.

glimpses of him were what you had been offered amidst that never-ending nightmare, and seas be merciful, wasn’t he a luxury meal course.

you had been praying to whoever listened for a mere opportunity to get that man alone, and at last, the deity of couple-who-spent-two-years-apart-and-now-can’t-keep-it-together-for-more-than-a-week — or something like that — was merciful enough to grant you that desperate wish.

zoro had snatched you by the waist once the opportunity seemed fit enough, and that monument of a man dug his calloused fingers so deep into your figure that it threatened to leave bruises longer-lasting than the ones you received at whole cake. his lips brushed near your earlobe, before traveling lower; chests pressed against one another as he whispered lustful-filled promises amidst small confessions of how much he had missed you.

and oh, hell knew those words were more than reciprocal. unfortunately, your tongue seemed to weigh more than a hundred sea kings as your fingers gripped the hems of his kimono, lips half-parted while your eyes drowned in the sight of him.

at your lack of action, zoro froze. he was an experienced man — so long as the subject involved alcohol or sword-fighting or your detailed schedule. the love matter? he was as proficient in it as he was in differentiating north from south. zoro moved his face from where it was buried in your neck, a tinge of uncertainty shown in his glance.

the silence lingered as zoro’s face scrunched in concentration, gears turning inside his head as the poor and clueless man attempted to understand whatever thought was going through in yours.

“if you want to speak about what happened during the time we were apart—” he began, seemingly planning on taking a step back and further from your body.

you tugged at the kimono and pressed him to your figure, a lonesome finger trailing down the bare skin of his chest, losing itself under the fabric of his clothing. you felt him shudder due to your touch, though your mouth remained sealed and you were sure your eyes were as wide as the four seas. zoro’s own hands were hesitant. there he was — the terrifyingly strong swordsman, the one who’d be the strongest, the one whose name was uttered in fear — completely vulnerable at the palm of your hand.

you wanted to swallow him whole.

“do i need to kill—” he spoke again, and you shushed the attempt yet again. as much as you valued his immediate instinct to eliminate whoever had dared to bring you pain, that was anything but the time for such declarations.

zoro’s grip regained its usual strength as he became more impatient, his words coming out with an edge as sharp as the swords sheathed and carried at his hip. “what is it, woman?!”

“was this given to you?”

he blinked, dumbfounded. “huh?”

“the kimono, zoro. was this given or borrowed?”

the swordsman rolled his eye as he, once again, pressed your chest flush against his, returning his ministrations to your neck once he was sure that nothing was amiss.

“why does it matter?” he rasped against your sensible skin.

as much as you wished to surrender entirely to that sinful mouth, a glimpse of the dark green of the cape he wore made you push his shoulders. your eyes were transfixed, unable to tear themselves from his appearance.

“of course it matters! i need to know whether or not i’ll need to bother stealing them once we leave this place,” you answered, eyes so focused in his chest you failed to notice the darkening of his glance.

zoro’s usual attires consisted of overused pants, the green haramaki that was close to infusing itself with his skin, and — if he felt the need, which was rare — a plain coat or t-shirt. the instances in which your lover dressed himself with such fine clothing were rare. truth be told, the entire crew was more well-dressed in an hour in wano than in an entire month in the sunny. the lack of money was far more common than you would’ve wished, and zoro himself refused to waste his slim fair share of berries and gold with — at least to him — vain and useless things such as new clothes.

hence why you were planning on robbing at least two entire wardrobes worth of those kimonos. the absolute urge to have him like that was gnawing at your insides. you wished for nothing but to have your arms around him for the entire day, acting as though an insistent pendant dangling from his neck and clinging to his chest due to the sweat from battles.

your mind trailed on, wondering if that pirate-surgeon would’ve been able to perform such a feat.

“keep wearing that, at all times,” you punctuated, allowing his hand to raise your thigh to the height of his hip. “you don’t bathe whatsoever, so it won’t be hard.”

he grinned against the skin of your exposed collarbone. “liked it that much?”

you hummed your agreement. zoro pressed your back against the nearest solid surface and opened your legs for further access to where you needed him most. the pair of you had half-an-hour of privacy — if not less — and he clearly didn’t mean to lose those precious minutes with meaningless gestures and words. zoro tossed the cape on the ground and started to undo the knot that kept his kimono shut.

you stopped him in the spot. “nuh-huh.”

“the hell you mean nuh-huh?” he bit back.

“clothes on.”

“how am i supposed to fuck you with shit on?”

you craned your neck to the side, offering him a clear glimpse of the wickedness gleaming in your eyes. “you’ll figure it out. unless you’re not up for the challenge. i’ll understand if you’re feeling like backing out. maybe someone more flexible would’ve—”

he wrapped both of your legs around his waist, supporting your entire weight with the arm placed under you. he moved and aimed for a distinct position, and you blinked a bit surprised at his decision. zoro had suspended you midair, with neither a wall nor a table to aid him. a gasp of delight and awe passed through your lips as zoro’s clothed thigh roughly rubbed itself against your arousal.

a calloused finger guided your chin up with roughness, adjusting your eyesight to his face.

“me,” rough voice wielded in a monosyllabic command whose further intentions he was sure you would understand.

the trance upon the first glance of that set of clothes — and the sinful thoughts thereafter — managed to distract you from the fact that you and zoro had been apart for almost three weeks. and for an instance you had forgotten that the yearning fed by distance was reciprocated. that zoro had been just as eager to have you in his arms as you were to be drowned in the sea of his lust.

that brief pledge — me, look at me — had such a meaning hidden underneath, that for a second you felt the urge to cradle his face in your hands, if only to caress the man beyond the demon with the care he ever so longed for.

most pirates sailed around the seas with postures and expressions that nearly seemed to shout “sex for free”. to them, the act itself conducted with strangers was but another trivial aspect of adventure; an adrenaline-filled activity not to be taken seriously. to zoro, sex symbolized the deepest shade of intimacy. an instance where he laid himself bare to you. not in the sense of nakedness — for he couldn’t care less for the sight of his body beyond the physical strength required to wield his swords and protect his crewmates —, but rather in the act of offering you his soul on a silver platter.

he was not a man of words. his devotion was made explicit through the manner with which he served you. zoro thought himself a wretched creature at your service, meant to protect and please. there was no space available for the hesitation born from the thought of vulnerability. sex was the act of tearing his skin apart with his own blade in order to offer you a warm solace within the walls of his heart. it was a sacred transaction where you were the worshiped deity; the ground beneath your feet the altar he knelt upon. and one should treat the object of their faith with the utmost respect.

yet, due to the scarce time unmatching the accumulated desire, zoro wasn’t given the chance to adore you properly. hence the reasoning of such a request.

a heartwarming action, truly. but your eyes were attracted to the way that stupid kimono hugged his frame, offering a scarce glimpse of his chest — only enough to leave space for imagination. both a curse and a blessing was bestowed upon you.

zoro turned your chin towards him yet again, a vein nearly popping on his forehead, wearing an expression you’ve grown to know too well. “eyes on me.”

you grinned. perhaps your stupidest decision yet. “are you jealous of a kimono?”

that taunt was his undoing.

“up for the challenge,” zoro echoed, tone dead, pupil blown. “clothes on.”

zoro flexes the muscles of his thigh, his entire expression brightening up with wickedness as his other hand reaches for your clothed arousal. “let’s test that, huh?”

“i need my legs to fight!” you suddenly felt the urge to remind him.

he grinned like a devil. “you’ll figure it out.”

— 🐈‍⬛ wrote this while rewatching some zoro moments in wano!!!!!!!! the exclamation marks are a shout for help!!!!!!

[rachelsfav-queer]

Wednesday: I really don’t see what this all has to do with the bouquet of flowers you offered me, Enid. Quite frankly, you seem to be acting stra-

Enid: *fed up* I LIKE YOU!! THAT’S WHAT IT HAS TO DO WITH IT! I LIKE YOU WEDNESDAY AND I WANT TO KISS YOU!! I WANT TO KISS YOU ALL OVER YOUR STUPID, SHARP FACE! THIS! IS! A DATE!!

Enid: I’VE BEEN TRYING TO ASK YOU TO BE MY GIRLFRIEND BUT YOU’RE THE MOST CLUELESS PERSON ON EARTH AND THAT’S SAYING SOMETHING BECAUSE I EXIST!!

Enid: I WANNA BE YOUR FRICKING GIRLFRIEND!!!

Enid is left panting from screaming so much and Wednesday is left flabbergasted, mouth wide open and her face bright red. As literal months of missed flirting and misinterpreted gestures pass by her eyes in less than a second, Wednesday realizes how true Enid’s statement was, as harsh as it may have been. She truly was the most clueless person on earth, perhaps even on the astral plane as well. Just as Enid is about to storm off, Wednesday speaks.

Wednesday: Enid. I apologize for unwittingly putting you through this torture of trying to get through my admittedly thick skull and confess your feelings towards me. I’m ashamed to share any trait in common with that socially inept gorgon you call an ex boyfriend…

Enid: *interrupting sadly* Wends… I didn’t mean that whole, clueless thing. I just… my emotions got a bit ahead of me, I’m sorry. You’re not-

Wednesday: But I am, am I not? I’ve been completely clueless to your advances and looking back, it’s certainly not from a lack of trying on your part. I wish I could’ve noticed your affections earlier, so that I may have told you that they are returned in full by me.

Enid: *starstruck* Wow… well, I’m super glad that you feel the same way about me, Wends. And just for the record, trying to court you has been like, a thousand times more enjoyable than it was with Ajax. At least you were aware enough to go along with everything I had us do, he was barely aware I was even talking to him half the time. Again, he’s cute, but very clueless.

Wednesday was caught on one part of Enid’s sentence.

Wednesday: Court me? You want to court me, Enid?

Enid: *smirks and giggles* Of course, silly! I would absolutely love to get the chance to sweep you off your feet! Just like you deserve, cutie! *winks*

Wednesday: *blushes, smiles* Oh, mi loba. I would love nothing more than to be swept away by your affections. What a fitting proposal for an Addams, being courted by such a beautifully deadly creature as you, Enid.

Enid: *extends her hand* Well then, mi luna, will you allow me to court you? Prove myself worthy of your divine beauty?

Wednesday: *takes her hand* As if you haven’t already proven it by saving my life. But yes, please woo me, Enid.

On the other side of the graveyard, Yoko and Divina are watching the interaction, eating popcorn and drinking soda.

Yoko: Wow, that was literally the gayest shit I’ve ever seen.

Divina: Yeah, that was harder to watch than you trying to be flirty with me before we started dating, baby.

Yoko: *spluttering* I- you- you said! But-

Divina cuts her off with a kiss.

Divina: Shh, you’re cuter when you’re quiet. *winks*

Yoko somehow blushes bright red.

End <3

(Note: Sorry this was so damn long lol. I just couldn’t get the idea out of my head of Enid courting Wednesday, so I had to add some plot to it. Hope y’all enjoyed!)

[sundew199]

Let me

a/n: it's 9am...shame is nonexistent

tags: reiner x f!reader, virginity, submissiveish reiner, oral m!receiving, loss of virginity (reiner), cowgirl position, he’s a bit clueless but not annoyingly clueless

kinktober day one: virginity

!!minors DNI!!

“Have you really never slept with anyone?” 

Reiner shrugged, sipping the last of his drink and sliding it across back to the bartender, who silently asked if he wanted another, which he nodded in reply. 

“I mean I’ve gotten close, but.” Shying away at your brash question, wishing this could be a conversation elsewhere or not at all. 

“Define close.” You asked, leaning back in your seat with a knowing smile, needing to know how the hunk of a man in front of you hasn’t gotten laid at least once. 

“Can we talk about something else?” 

“Ugh come on, I’m just curious! How has someone as attractive as you not had a dozen or more women in your bed.” Shoving his shoulder playfully to try and get him to loosen up. Blame it on the alcohol but you weren’t convinced he hasn’t fucked before and shamelessly wanted the details, there was no way he didn’t fuck women’s brains out and leaving them begging for more. 

“I don’t know, just hasn’t happened.” Reaching for his refilled glass of bourbon from the bartender, contemplating if he should down it all at once to keep up with this conversation or savor it in hopes that you’ll drop it.

"Is it because you're nervous? Scared you'll mess something up?' Continuing on with your questions, even though the man beside you looked less than willing to indulge you, irritation settling into his guise.

"I really just want to drop it." Whipping his heard around to face you in the stool next to him, brows pinched with a thin-lipped frown.

Holding your hands up to surrender, you couldn't help but laugh a little. "Well, I'm always down to give you pointers, if you know what I mean."

Despite being initially irritated with you, Reiner broke out into the tiniest of smiles, understanding the playful humor in your words.

A couple weeks had passed since then, going about your life and occasionally talking to him. Reiner was your closest friend, meeting a couple of years ago through mutual friends between each other. At the time, you were dating someone and kept things respectful, even if you found him wildly attractive and wanted to climb him like a tree. Now you were single, living life with no pursuit of getting into a relationship, but your attraction to Reiner didn't go away, only seem to be inflamed since breaking up with your ex.

The hints you were dropping weren't doing the job like you wanted, Reiner was either clueless or brushing them off, not feeling the same towards you. But now knowing he was a virgin, scrambled things in your brain, made things even more confusing.

A night in on a Friday evening were your plans, catching up on some shows, tidying your place up a bit and just relaxing. That was until you received a cryptic text from Reiner asking if he could come over and get some help from you. Of course you said yes, not even know what it could be about, it's not like you were busy.

He looked flustered when you opened the door to your apartment, coyly smiling and slipping inside, going straight to the couch to sit. Not thinking too much of it, you joined him, crossing your legs underneath you and facing towards him.

"Everything okay?"

He sighed, placing his elbows on his knees and covering his face with his hands. Reiner didn't say anything for a moment, both his legs bouncing up and down with nerves, making you turn slightly concerned for what this was about.

"I don't really know how to ask this, it's kinda embarrassing and I don't want it to ruin anything between us."

Nodding slowly, setting your half drunk glass of wine down on the coffee table, you looked at him.

"Can't be that bad, just ask." Smiling warmly, leaning into your fist on your temple.

Letting out another sigh, Reiner groaned, slouching into the couch and staring at the ceiling. He was flushed red, embarrassingly red from the way he spoke and how uncomfortable he looked sitting on your couch, something he's done a hundred times.

"I want some pointers." Murmuring under his breath, still looking at the ceiling.

Pointer? For what? That was so vague you couldn't begin to think of what he needed pointers on or for.

"Okay...? For what exactly?"

Sitting up, scooting to face you more, Reiner looked at you with a stern stone faced expression, like you were already supposed to know what he was talking about.

"When we were at the bar, and you offered pointers for, ya know." Kind of whispering when he spoke, like there were others in your apartment that could possibly hear what he was saying.

Blame it on the bit of wine you had, you stared at him a little blankly, trying to recall what he was talking about. That night was a little blurry as both of you were drinking, but when it finally hit you what he was referring to, your mouth shut and your eyes widened.

"Oh. You want "pointers" for that." Using air quotes around the word, attempting to be lighthearted but quickly seeing the embarrassment spread across his face. It was sweet the way he was asking, not trying to come off too blunt or wrong for what he was asking.

"I didn't know who else to go to and the conversation got me a bit, it's not your fault but I just want to know what to do if I ever get the chance." Sputtering out and stumbling on his words, Reiner somehow turned even more red and like he was ready to sprint out your front door to never return.

Letting out a breath, you scoot closer to him on the couch, watching him sit up straight and scan you over with his eyes. He was trying to psychoanalyze what you were going to do or say, nervous he overstepped the boundaries of your friendship and partially regretting bringing this up at all.

"I can help you, give you pointers. But you know for this kind of thing, physical teaching is best," Pausing to give him a reassuring smile and place a hand on his leg. "Is that something you want?"

Reiner swallowed thickly, adam's apple bobbing nervously and the gears behind his eyes turning in contemplation. You kept your line of vision on him, not moving a muscle till he gave you an answer. Deep down you hoped he would be okay with it, more than happy to show him how to please a woman and how to get pleasure of out of having sex with one. Indulgences aside, you would've been willing anyway, being such good friends for a couple of years now.

"Yeah, I'll do whatever you say, just teach me, please." Breathlessly replying, following your movements as you stood from the couch, holding out your hand to lead him to your bedroom. His large hand engulfed yours timidly, so warm against your skin it sent goosebumps up your arm.

Once the two of you were in your bedroom, he seemed to relax, only a little as he took off the jacket he wore and laid across the desk chair in your room. His biceps swelled against the fabric of his short sleeves, distracting you as you were trying to dim the lighting to better set the mood.

Patting the edge of the bed where you sat, Reiner shuffled over after kicking off his shoes, sitting with a little more distance than you'd like, scooting closer and running a hand over his chest. He stiffened, trying to gauge what you were doing.

"For the best experience, it's always better to build up to it, instead of jumping straight in. So, have you ever kissed or made out with someone?"

"A couple times yeah."

Humming, you moved your hand to hold the side of his face, turning him to face you completely, leaning in close. "Kiss me then, do whatever feels natural."

Reiner cleared his throat, bringing his hand to hold the side of your face as well, leaning in until his lips brushed across yours, just barely. You were going to let him lead for now, since he knew what to do right now, sighing softly into his lips when yours finally met. They were so plush and soft, not what you were expecting. He was still nervous as his kissed you with closed lips, but you teasingly swiped your tongue across his bottom one, getting him to part just enough to slot your lips together.

The hand on the side of your face moved to the back of your head as he got comfortable with the flow of your lips dancing together, running his other up and down your arm. Reiner was eager, or getting there as he didn't break away once. Your fingers tangled into the short blonde locks at the back of his hair, pulling yourself in closer, trying not to get ahead of yourself.

"Like that?" Whispering into the space between your mouths when he pulled away, breathing a little heavy from the extended lack of air.

"Mhm, keep going, do whatever feels right." Encouraging him with another smile, curious of what he would do next, whether that be hauling you into his lap or moving his lips to kiss along your jawline or neck.

Almost with hesitation, Reiner slipped the hand running up and down your arm under your thigh, indicating he was about to haul you into his lap. Helping him out, swinging your legs on either side of him, you wrapped your arms around his neck and bent down some to meet his lips again. He groaned oh so softly at that, resting his hands on your hips, making you thing he was going to scoot your further onto his lap instead of just sitting on his thighs. And surprisingly he didn't, keeping you right where you were and devouring your mouth eagerly.

Taking a bit of initiative yourself, you moved to sit right over his crotch, rolling your hips once and smiling at the surprised gasp behind his lips still pressed to yours. His eyes snapped open, the obvious question of 'what are you doing' swirling in his irises. Pulling away, brushing a thumb over his bottom lip, you smiled.

"Just helping in building the tension, getting us both worked up and needy."

A slow nod came, still nervous rather than confused, making you realize he hasn't gotten as far as you presumed he had. Knowing he was placing a lot if trust into your hands, you rolled your hips again, a bit firmer, watching him stifle a groan. He was growing hard beneath you, pitching a thick tent in his jeans and you could only imagine how uncomfortable it must've been.

"Here," Sliding down from his lap, reaching for the hem of your shirt to pull it over your head. "Undress a bit, it'll feel better."

Instead of moving, Reiner's eyes hungrily traces over your chest, staring right at your bra and nearly missing you pulling your sweats down, left in only a bra and panties. He broke from the trance, unbuttoning his jeans after undoing his belt and ripping him off his legs, now much more eager as he was about to get a taste of something he's never had before. It was cute, endearing almost, making you feel like a predator closing in on its prey with solid intent. You swung your legs back over either side of him, hovering over his clothed erection as you slipped his shirt off yourself.

"If at any point you want to stop, just tell me." Running your hands on top of his shoulders, down his biceps and eventually to his hands to place them back on your hips, still hovering above him.

"I don't think I will but, I appreciate it." Breathily responding, looking at you with stars in his eyes, wetting his lips and craning his neck back to look up at you.

"Of course, but you'll communicate with me right, I don't want to do anything to make you uncomfortable." Teasingly lowering your hips, almost brushing your clothed cunt over his erection and seeing the anticipation run throughout his body, how much he was craving the touch.

"Yeah, I trust you. Just show me how and what I've been missing out on." God, his voice was so desperate sounding, yearning for the experienced touch and the knowledge that was within his grasp, dangled in front of him by you.

Softening, your fingers threaded through the back of his hair, finally sitting on his lap all the way, giving a roll of your hips and drinking in the sweet sound of his groan. His fingers dug into your hips, releasing quickly and palming the area instead. To keep him occupied and not distracted by new sensations, you smashed his lips to your, kissing him insistently, eagerly and with one goal in mind. Reiner melted to your touch, gaining a bit of confidence with his hands, allowing one of them to reach up to your neck and the other start to guide your hips back and forth. He was falling into bliss, on his way to getting drunk on lust, and that was exactly how you wanted him.

Pushing him back with a hand to his chest, you fell with him on the bed, reaching around to unhook your bra, sitting up and breaking the kiss so he could set his eyes on your tits. You cupped them proudly after your bra was tossed, giggling to his wide eyes and parted lips, letting your humming laugh turn into a moan when you tweaked your nipples with your thumb and index.

Gyrating slowly to a beat in your head, your thumb and index pinched and pulled on your nipples, turning them hard and pointed. Reiner couldn't help but reach a hand up, move one of yours out of the way and engulf the flesh in his hand. His palm was warm and gentle, his touch hesitant as he pressed the pad of his thumb down onto your hard nipple, earning a squeak from you.

"That okay?" Asking with concern almost, like he couldn't differentiate the noises you made just yet.

"Yea, just let your instincts guide you." Letting your head fall back, letting out a sigh of a moan as he rubbed his thumb in circles on your nipple.

It was then Reiner sat up on his elbows, craning his head to flick the tip of his tongue on the same nipple. To help him out, you bent forward, pushing your tit into his mouth and groaning in relief when he sucked and swirled his tongue around the bud. He caught on quickly and had the touch of someone who knew what they were doing, which was a welcomed surprise. He hummed into your skin, looking at you with the equivalent of doe eyes, checking in to make sure everything he was doing was right, so eager to please.

Running a hand through his thick blonde hair, pressing down hard on his clothed dick, you let your head fall back, squeaking out a whine or two.

"Reiner, fuck-"

He stopped, coming off with a pop and letting out a few heavy breaths. "W-what?"

"Keep going."

The relief coming over him at the realization that you were exclaiming in pleasure to his ministration and not the opposite, it was so sweet that he cared as much as he did.

He gripped the other one in his hand as his mouth, returned to sucking and swirling his tongue, getting more into it with the muffle of groans and twitching of his hips, which reminded you to resume what you were doing earlier. You didn't even have to see to know he was painfully hard, throbbing beneath his boxers from doing more than making out and fisting his own cock.

Pulling back just a little, you slipped his dick out of the waistband of his boxers, thumbing over the flushed red tip. Reiner audibly groans this time and pulls off of your tit, shaking as he inhales a few breaths. He watches as the pad your thumb swirl the bead of pre-cum around the head with rapt attention.

"Feels different from when I do it." Muttering under his breath, fingers curling into the fabric of your comforter.

" 'Suppose to, someone else's touch is always going to feel different, better."

Tightening your hand into a fist, you let it descend down to the base of his cock, getting a better idea of how thick he was. There was a considerable amount of length to him, but fuck was he thick. Even if it wasn't his first time, fucking into your tight pussy may send him over the edge after a few strokes.

"Such a pretty cock, nice and thick too." Idly commenting, lazily stroking him from base to tip, his face contorting in pleasure from your hand and the inner struggle of not releasing too soon.

"Won't hurt too much for you?"

"No. As long as there's prep neither of us will have to worry about anything." Smiling a little deviously, seeing as he was so blissed out that he hadn't caught on to your insinuation, which anyone else would've.

Sinking down to the floor on your knees, taking his boxers along the way, you hummed sweetly, eye to eye with his dick now. Running a long stripe on the underside of his cock, kissing the tip, you heard the man grapple with quieting the noises admitting from him. Eventually he wouldn't be so shy, wouldn't conceal those pretty moans and whines, letting whoever it was he was fucking enjoy knowing they were making him feel good.

Carefully reaching the tip after a few long stripes to the underside of his cock, you enclosed your lips around the head, hollowing your cheeks out to harshly suck. His hips rutted, or tried to, as you began, whining under his breath and keeping his eyes trained on you. That pitiful look on his face with a hint of innocence still was making you press your thighs together. Reiner was already so attractive, but he looked so pretty like this, trapped under you metaphorically and literally here soon.

Knowing the head of his cock was good and sensitive now from your undivided attention to it, you opened your mouth and relaxed your throat, taking him all the way down and holding yourself there, inhaling the musk of his skin as your nose pressed underneath his naval.

"Oh fuck - shit." He cursed, clenching a fist and biting down on his knuckles as he met your eyes. They were watery and rapidly blinking while keeping the fat cock deep in your throat. Reiner gaped, huffing and puffing, doing everything in his power not to cum down your throat.

Humming around his dick, you moved to pull off, but not all the way. Bobbing up and down slowly, dragging your lips over the veins and ridges on the appendage granted you the sweet decadent whimper from the blonde man experiencing ecstasy for the first time. You didn't let up either, kept moving up and down, moaning around his cock and fluttering your eye lashes. Reiner had either made a mistake or the greatest decision coming to you for 'pointers', going out of your way to give him a hell of a first time to think back on.

"Wait! Stop I'm about...I'm about to cum." The plea was so strained and raspy, it sent shivers down your spin, reluctantly pulling off and letting the pre-cum and saliva drip down your chin.

"Sorry, I didn't want to cum in your mouth, rather do it somewhere else." Bashfully saying as he was still catching his breath, watching you stand up and slipping your sheer panties down your legs, kicking them aside.

"And where would that be exactly?" Teasing him even though you knew the answer, pushing him back by the chest until he scooted more onto the bed, moving to standing on your knees and pressing them into his hips.

Reiner's mouth opened and closed as he grappled with the answer, not wanting to say it aloud for whatever the reason may be. But you pressed by wrapping a hand back around the base of his saliva coated dick, leaning to hover over him, chuckling under your breath.

"Inside."

"Inside where?"

A displeased whine emanated from his tightly pressed lips, squeezing his eyes shut as you squeezed your hand around him.

"Inside your pussy." Reiner's words being so breathless and airy as he spoke, emphasizing the craving deep inside him to sink and stretch his cock around your plush inviting walls and who were you to deny him?

Releasing your hand from around him, you then moved to slide the sensitive tip of his dick through your folds, cooing at his overwhelmed reaction.

"When a girl rides you, it's always important to let her sit herself down, especially with your size, don't want to hurt her." Going back to advising him on future endeavor despite hating the idea of anyone else getting the privilege of riding his cock.

He nodded in response, tensing when the head slipped inside, sputtering out more groans and gasps. You bit down on your bottom lip to compose yourself, just the very tip of him stretching you out more than expected.

"Make sure to let her adjust too, don't just start slamming her down or up into her." Continuing on while slowly sinking down all the way, until he was bottomed out inside you. God he was bigger than he looked, feeling so fucking full and neither of you had moved yet.

"Fuck this feels so good, so tight oh my god." His beautiful face pinched in pleasure, letting his hands instinctively rest on your hips and caress the area as you adjusted.

"Feel how you expected?" Teasing as an arch in your back grew, raising your hips off of him half way and sinking them back down painfully slow.

"No, you feel so much better than I could've dreamt of baby."

Reiner caught you off guard for a second. Had you misheard him? There's no way he'd dreamt of fucking you like he just said, you swore he didn't even like you like, current situation aside. Deciding to not give it much thought, you resumed softly moving your hips up and down before you began to bounce, really not wanting him to cum too early. Though, the man was eager, gripping your hips and trying to move faster, chasing the sweet taste of relief.

Moving to bouncing up and down on his cock, you saw as something flip inside Reiner, confidence taking over and greediness swirling with the lust in those golden eyes of his. He grunted with each slam of your pussy, pushing his cock deeper inside you each time, prodding against your cervix it felt like.

"You're going to cum if you don't slow down." Doing your best to hide the moan hidden behind your words, not shy to admit being slammed down onto his cock didn't feel good. In fact it felt heavenly. His fat dick sliding and rubbing along your walls, stretching your pussy to take each stroke and bullying its way across the spongy spot inside you had you focusing not to cum too quickly and end this with him.

"Tryin' to make you cum," Reiner huffed, grasping your ass cheeks and pulling them apart, gritting his teeth as he concentrated on meeting your hips with his. You weren't expecting yourself to be loosing it as quickly as you were but, fuck it felt so god damn good.

"Fuck, then keep doing what you're doing, don't change anything just - keep fucking me." Letting your head dip, planting your hands on either side of his head and unleashing all the unfiltered noises that had been trapped in your throat.

First time or not, Reiner picked up on things quickly, once the nervousness of it all dwindled and he allowed his confidence to take the reins. You had to remind yourself to savor every second of this, not knowing if this would be the only time, but having a strong feeling it might be. Oh well. At least you were his first and not someone random, at least you were able to teach him a bit and prevent him from awkwardly stumbling around for his first time.

"Next time I want you to teach me how to eat that pussy of yours, get it nice and wet so I'll just slide right in." Growling right into your ear, bending on of his legs at the knees to give him a better angle to fuck into you.

"Wha?" So gone, barely understanding what he just said, partially not believing it.

"I still have a lot to learn don't I?" Now he sounded smug, a half smirk pulling on one corner of his mouth when you slightly turned to look at his face.

"I guess you do yeah." Giving him the same half smirk and slamming your hips all the way down unexpectedly, grasping his chin and holding it tight. "Now cum inside me like you said you wanted to big boy."

His eyes rolled back into his head, sucking in a sharp breath, keeping you flush to his hips as he vigorously rutted his hips up into yours, pushing the head of his cock to what felt like all the way to your stomach. You cried out, nails creating crescents in his skin as you moaned and writhed above him, reaching your own orgasm while adding fuel to his own until the rutting stopped and warmth filled the walls of your pussy.

A low deep groan came with each pulse and spurt inside of you, sweat beading at his hairline and neck, rolling down his glistening skin. When his hand released your hips, you slipped off of him, ruined and oversensitive pussy hovering over his cock, letting Reiner watch his cum leak out from your entrance and drip down onto his softening dick. He tried to get up, but you pushed him back down, shuffling to the bathroom to clean up and him when you got back.

You'd never seen him so relaxed, tired and content at once, sprawled out in the middle of your bed, catching his breath once again.

"After care is important, don't just fuck someone and leave." Gently running the warm damp wash rag over his lower body, cleaning up your combined messes.

"Yeah," Sighing contently, sitting up all the way and looking directly at you with the all too familiar bashfulness from earlier. "What I said when we were, um - if you don't feel the same way-"

Cutting him off with a press of your finger to his lips. "Let's talk about all that in the morning, we're tired and it's late."

Softening once again with a small relief, Reiner nodded, moving off the bed so you could pull back the comforter, slipping inside and snuggling up beside him into his chest with his arm wrapped around you, allowing the two of you to drift off to sleep.

[temilyrights]

"all this to prove a point?" for the writing prompt

emily prentiss x reader

no warnings. no use of y/n or pronouns for reader.

sentence fic prompt

You rub your hands together, trying your best to generate some heat in your body. Emily’s car, while lovely, did not provide the warmth of an suv on a usual stakeout and you were seriously regretting your inability to tell this woman no. 

“All this to prove a point?” You mumble, the humour fading from your tone the longer you sit in the cold car, the September air biting away at your fingers and toes. 

Emily sits with her camera pointed at Morgan’s apartment, a determined glint in her eye. “Better personal life than me, my ass. He came straight home and hasn’t left the building since!”

You roll your eyes, wishing desperately you were home, “Yeah but he’s also not wasting his evening stalking his friend.”

Emily lowers the camera and turns to face you, brows drawn together. “He can’t make accusations like that and not expect me to find proof.” 

“Well maybe if you focused a little bit more on yourself and a little less on him then you wouldn’t need to prove it and you’d have a private life he couldn’t argue with.”  

She scoffs, “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Always so clueless.

You shake your head, annoyed, embarrassed, and frustrated by the woman in front of you. “I’m right here.”

Emily’s frown only deepens and you blow out a breath, “I invited you out for dinner tonight and instead we’re stalking Morgan and have completely missed our reservations. Every time I try to move us forward you find a way to shut it down.”

“Reservations? I thought you wanted to get take-out and head back to one of ours, like usual.” She says with genuine confusion. 

“No, I booked that nice Indian place you like.” 

“Oh,” She responds, dropping the camera firmly in her lap. 

“Look,” you sigh, “I just need to know, okay? Because maybe I’m just failing to get the hint and you’re really not interested but I thought we were going somewhere. I like you Emily.” 

“You like me? Tonight was supposed to be a date and instead I blew you off and made us sit and stake out Morgan.” She says slowly, words strangled.

“Yes.”

“Fucking hell.” She blows out a breath. The car is silent for a moment as she comes to terms with the news and then her gaze focuses back on you. “I’m so sorry. I will make this up to you. I’m taking you for the best date night starting right now.”

Your eyes widen, “Wait so that’s a-?”

She smiles, wide and happy, “Yes, idiot, I like you too. God, why else would I ask you to sit here with me?”

You can’t help but smile too. Head in the clouds as Emily puts the camera away and the keys back in the ignition. 

“Ready to go?” She asks, a playful smirk on her lips that your eyes linger on. 

“There’s just one thing first.” Because you can’t wait a moment longer. You’ve waited years. 

You lean over the centre console, hand cupping her cheek and pulling her towards you to meet you in the middle. Emily’s eyes darken instantly, her gaze dropping to your lips before they fall close and her lips softly meet yours. 

Your body hums, alive as your lips move tenderly against hers. A gentle whine escapes your lips and your body heats up as you regretfully pull away. 

“Mmmhmm,” Emily hums, lips well kissed and eyes dark. “We can definitely do that again.”

“Food?” You ask, voice strangled. Avoiding the knowing look in her eyes, suddenly shy. 

“Oh, babes, I’ve got the perfect place.”

taglist: @ry-kills-jemily @sapphic-stress @xrainydazeteax @mckennamayfairgoode @enduringalexblake @augustvandyne @themoontaxi @prentissology @alexbllake @ssa-sapphic @storiesofsvu

[glossdebut]

PRICE OF FAME | MYG ★ 03

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SERIES SUMMARY: You were about ready to give up, your career nowhere near what you dreamed it’d be when you started at eighteen, bright-eyed and naive. Reality for you these past few years has consisted of pouting at a camera, ignoring whispers of your name at company events, and ensuring that the stupid, tiny designer purses they keep forcing on you can at least carry a flask. But now, you’re helping a friend in need. For the first time in a long time, it feels like you’re doing something worthwhile with your life. Too bad Min Yoongi, the newest thorn in your side, seems insistent on stopping you.

✧ SERIES TAGS: enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, smut, fake/pretend relationship (not main couple), rockstar!yoongi, model!reader, guitarist yoongi, singer jungkook, bassist taehyung, drummer jimin, manager namjoon, yoongi & maknae line are in a rock band, reader & seokjin are best friends, yoongi & hoseok are best friends (sope duo ftw), yoongi has a tongue piercing, reader is a brat

✧ CHAPTER TAGS/WARNINGS: THE JEJU TRIP BEGINS!, JK is clueless and a little bit annoying, jimin and taehyung are meddlers, seokjin wishes he was fishing, yoongi is a bitch as per usual, aqua uses ANOTHER arctic monkeys song as a plot device, A BIG REVEAL OF SORTS!, idk a lot of stuff happens in this chapter, the exposition is expositioning (see series masterlist for series warnings)

✧ CHAPTER WORDCOUNT: 7.4k words

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: hi everyone! happy belated taehyung day and happy new year! writing this chapter kicked my ass. it sat at 1k-ish words for almost the ENTIRE month until i miraculously busted out the final 6.4k in less than 48 hours. but it’s hereeeeee! a big thank you to tanni @yooniivrse for beta reading and mj @kkaetnipjeon for answering my many, many questions about jeju <3

P.S. the jeju house in this is modeled after an airbnb i found online (with a few alterations to fit my perception of yoongi’s taste) so if my description isn’t enough for you to picture it, here is the link to the house i modeled it after!

P.P.S. i finally got my taglist sorted out! if your username is missing at this point, it means i straight up don’t have it. comment and/or fill out my taglist form if you want to be added!

CH. 03: WHAT DO YOU KNOW?

Jeju is a big change of pace for you.

You spend your days in Seoul with little reason to step outside of city limits. It’s so big, offering anything and everything you could possibly need. When you do happen to travel, it’s always for work, and always to some other booming metropolis. It’s difficult to recall the last time you’d been surrounded by such lush greenery as opposed to the impenetrable walls of slate grey you’ve grown accustomed to.

It feels like a miracle that your manager, Seoyeon, was able to swing this for you, even if there are a few strings. You’re still technically working—you always are, whether it’s through the brand of clothes you’re seen wearing or the model of car you’re seen leaving the airport in. A walking advertisement. But still, she’s managed to finesse things so you don’t have any shoots lined up for the next few weeks.

You don’t think you’ve been to Jeju since your last trip with Seokjin, the summer after you graduated high school. A trip that Seokjin spent fishing and you spent sunning. And the two of you, funded by the money Seokjin had saved up during his second year of college, certainly weren’t staying in a place like this.

Yoongi’s house in Seogwipo is far from what you imagined.

It’s huge, but you knew to expect that, at least. Two floors, four bedrooms, three bathrooms. More than enough space to accommodate a rock band and their instruments (and their egos), which is why it was purchased in the first place.

But given what you know about Yoongi, and the fact that the band only comes here when they need to write an album, you weren’t expecting it to be so… homey.

The walls are painted a soft sage green. Dark wooden furnishings, splashes of charcoal grey and cream. A screened-in patio on the first floor that leads to a gorgeous garden with a wooden (and from the looks of it, hand-built) free standing swing. A terrace on the second floor with a beautiful view of the surrounding beach village.

There are fucking houseplants all over the place, thriving in the natural light the many windows offer. It looks like somebody lives here, even though you’d bet your left tit that Yoongi doesn’t. 

It doesn’t look to his taste, or at least what you’d imagine his taste to be. Dark and minimalistic, rather than dark and cozy. Cold, clinical. Yoongi’s apartment is probably as inviting as a hotel suite.

Maybe Yoongi owns it, but Namjoon maintains it. That’d make sense.

You think about asking, just to satisfy your own curiosity, but as everyone disperses to drop their bags, you decide it’s not worth it. Namjoon is preoccupied with his managerial duties, unloading equipment and instruments from the car, and nothing good seems to ever come out of talking to Yoongi anyway.

Jeongguk, ever the gentleman, wrenches your bags from your hands before you even get a chance to figure out which room you’ll be staying in. Hefting the strap of a duffel bag over his shoulder, extra large rolling suitcases in each hand, he carries everything up the stairs with alarming ease, leaving you no choice but to follow. He has your bags, after all.

You follow him silently into a bedroom on the second floor. It’s only when he tosses all of the bags onto the bed that you realize, with shocking clarity, that you and Jeongguk are expected to share a room.

This room. Which only has one bed. Because happy couples sleep in the same bed.

“You okay?” Jeongguk asks, the sound of his voice effectively tearing your eyes away from the mattress-shaped elephant in the room.

You really need to get better at keeping control of your facial features, instead of looking like you’re going to be sick at every perceived complication.

“Is, um,” you start, pointing at the bed. “Are we…?”

Realization crosses over Jeongguk’s face as his gaze follows the direction of your finger.

“Oh, fuck,” he huffs, big boba eyes widening. “I didn’t really think about it, to be honest with you.”

Well, that’s not very reassuring.

“Oh,” you say, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, even though you’re feeling very much the opposite. 

Being on this trip is bad enough. You already feel like you’re intruding on something you’ll never really be a part of, despite all of Jeongguk’s insistence that you being in Jeju with him will do wonders for your story’s credibility. But the idea of sharing a bed with him is just… It’s too much. It’s too real.

Somewhere in a hospital back in Seoul, Seokjin is laughing at your expense. You can sense it.

“It’s fine,” Jeongguk says, waving his hand dismissively. 

“Jeongguk,” you huff. You don’t want to be a bitch, but you can’t help but get frustrated—on behalf of yourself and his girlfriend, who you’re allegedly doing all of this bullshit for in the first place. He’s been here, has lived in this house for weeks on end as long as they’ve been writing albums here. He should’ve known this would be a problem. 

“I don’t think your girlfriend would like it very much if she knew we’d be sharing a bed while we’re here.”

“I’ll figure it out,” he says, apparently oblivious to the irritation that’s starting to come off of you in waves. “I’m sure there’s a couch I can move in here or something.”

“Okay,” you say stiffly. You’re unconvinced, but if he wants to figure out how to move a couch in here unnoticed, that’s up to him.

“Seriously,” Jeongguk insists, squeezing your shoulder in reassurance. “I’ll take care of it. Come on, let’s go back downstairs.”

“You go ahead,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m gonna unpack a little before I head down.” 

Jeongguk shrugs, leaving the room without fighting you on it. Thank god, too. You need a few minutes to decompress before you willingly head back into the belly of the beast.

Shit, this was a bad idea. This was all a bad idea, and you just keep going along with it because you’re incapable of saying ‘no’ where Jeon Jeongguk is concerned. 

Meeting the band after their last concert was one thing. A necessary evil, in order to sell all of this. Even hijacking their tour wrap dinner wasn’t that big of a deal—it certainly felt good to put Yoongi in his place, you have no problem admitting that.

But this? Sharing a house with the other members who all think you’re someone you’re not, just for some airport pictures? A few Instagram posts? It feels like you’re both taking things too far.

And then there’s Yoongi. 

Yoongi, who hasn’t spoken a word to anyone since the plane took off from Incheon. You didn’t think so many questions could be answered with hums and grunts, but you’re almost impressed by how wrong he’s proven you. It’s all in the inflection, it seems.

He’s pissed. Whether it’s still about the dinner, or just the fact that you’re here at all, you don’t know. Normally, you’d jump at the chance to piss him off further, just on principle. But being in such close quarters like this…. All a pissed Yoongi is going to do is cause more problems for you.

You’re deliberating on whether or not proposing a truce would be worth it when you finally leave the bedroom, heading towards the stairs. 

Everyone seems to be doing their own part in setting up for the trip. Namjoon and Jeongguk are outside clearing out what remains in the car, visible through the glass of the front door. Taehyung is pacing around the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets and recording his findings in the notes app of his phone. And…

Speak of the devil. Yoongi is helping Jimin set up his drum kit in the middle of the living room, right smack in front of your face as you reach the foot of the staircase.

Since you’ve been upstairs, he’s shed the stupid black puffy coat he was wearing at the airport. The sweater that was underneath too, it seems, leaving him down to a long-sleeved white thermal. 

It makes sense–-Jeju is more temperate than Seoul, and the heat is blasting in the house anyway.

He’s sprawled out on the floor, on his back as he attaches the legs to the kick drum while Jimin deals with the toms. It’s not as if drum kit assembly is particularly interesting to you. You don’t know why you stop and look, but you do. 

Yoongi is always so buttoned up, both metaphorically and literally. Especially with the chill that’s been permeating Seoul for the past two months. Everyone’s been drowning in layers—except you, thanks to Hyerin. And it’s so, so stupid, but the hem of Yoongi’s shirt is bunched up just the slightest bit as he reaches for a screwdriver. It’s just the faintest hint of pale skin, right above the waistband of his jeans, but it’s more than you’ve ever seen from him. For some reason, you just can’t bring yourself to look away.

But then he adjusts and its gone, forcing you to snap out of whatever bizarre reverie you’ve found yourself in.

When you glance up, he’s staring right back at you. Your eyes zero in on his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip, just a flash of the little silver barbell there before it’s gone again. His eyebrow raises in recognition, like he’s caught you doing something you shouldn’t.

…Are you doing something you shouldn’t?

“You’re doing that wrong,” you blurt, relief flooding you when he breaks first, his head swiveling to look over his handiwork with a furrowed brow. 

Your diversion gives you enough time to sneak away towards the kitchen. Yoongi’s muttered ‘what the fuck do you know’ reaches your heated ears as you pass by, but you have no choice but to let it go.

What the fuck. You really need to get laid if an inch of skin can make heat crawl up your neck like this. From Min Yoongi, no less.

★ ★ ★

Time spent hiding in the kitchen reveals the method to Taehyung’s cabinet-snooping madness: building a grocery list. 

Once your little freakout subsides, you’re fully briefed on the process, joining him in taking stock of what’s here and what isn’t. To your surprise, many of the shelf-friendly basics have been kept in full stock, leaving mostly perishables (meats, vegetables, and fruits) to be added to the list. After Taehyung’s phone is passed around for everyone’s additions, Namjoon and Yoongi roll out to go grocery shopping at a nearby market.

It isn’t lost on you that the pair are acting a bit strangely towards each other—and it can’t just be because of what went down at the dinner. Ever since you met the band at Incheon, they’ve given Yoongi a noticeably wide berth. But the maknaes still talked to him, despite the lackluster responses (grunts) they received in return.

Even Jeongguk has been interacting with Yoongi, and he was the one who drove him out of Yoojung Sikdang in the first place! You haven’t seen Namjoon look his way all day. He still isn’t, you note, as you watch their car retreat through the window.

Weird.

Not that you care, of course. Yoongi deserved what he got at that dinner, as far as you’re concerned. You don’t regret calling those reporters. You told Seokjin you wanted to make his life a living hell, and you’d meant it. 

But still, you can’t help the guilt that gnaws at you at the possibility that you’re playing the part of Yoko Ono. You’re sure Yoongi thinks so.

Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi. Who gives a fuck? It’s not like you’re here for him. You’re here for Jeongguk. You just need to put him out of your mind, you decide.

You make your way through the house, intent on finding Jeongguk to help with whatever else needs to get done tonight, when you’re ambushed by two maknaes that are clearly up to no good.

“YN-ieeee,” Jimin sing-songs. There’s a mischievous look in his eye as he grabs you by the hand and pulls you towards the living room.

“Come sit with us,” Taehyung insists, plopping himself down on the couch and patting the space next to him.

“I was actually looking for Jeongguk,” you say, eyeing both of them. But you relent anyway, stiffly sitting down on the couch where they now flank you.

“He gets you all the time,” Jimin says. He smiles brightly, turning his body towards you and tilting his head as he studies you. “It’s our turn. We have a question for you.”

Oh, you do not like this one bit. 

“A question?”

“A question,” Taehyung repeats, nodding.

“Okay, um,” you start, unsure of which one of them to look at. You settle on Taehyung, because he’s far less menacing. “Go ahead?”

“What’s going on with you and Yoongi-hyung?” Jimin asks.

Fuck. So much for putting him out of your mind.

It’s a fair question, but still, your head turns so fast in Jimin’s direction that you swear you hear a crack in your neck.

“Wh-what? What do you mean?”

“The animosity,” Jimin purrs. He’s still grinning at you, all charming teeth and deceptively cute mochi cheeks. “You both just met, right? Where’d that come from?”

This is a nightmare.

It’s not like you can tell them the truth, as much as you may want to. Until you can figure out exactly what it is Yoongi claims to know about you, he pretty much has you backed into a corner. Plus, you’ll be living with him for at least a few weeks. You’re not against ruining his time here in small, inconsequential ways, but this is decidedly not that.

You’ll keep the peace. For now.

“I think Yoongi-ssi and I just got off on the wrong foot,” you explain. It’s not a complete lie, to be fair. “I’ve been meaning to talk to him about what happened at Yoojung Sikdang…”

“That was ugly,” Taehyung says, wincing at the memory.

“Yeah,” Jimin agrees. “Does he really think the photographers were your fault?”

Yes, because they were.

“I guess so,” you sigh. “I don’t blame him, honestly. I would’ve thought the same if I were him. I feel really bad about the whole thing.”

“Don’t,” Taehyung says emphatically as he clasps one of your hands in his. If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Taehyung since you’ve met him, it’s that he’s not very big on personal space. He’s so casual about it, though, that you’re finding you don’t mind all that much.

“We can talk to him if you want us to,” Jimin says. “Yoongi-hyung can be a real asshole when he puts his mind to it, and you don’t deserve that.”

“No! No, it’s fine,” you insist, trying not to panic. For whatever reason, Yoongi has kept his suspicions about you between the two of you. As far as you know, at least. You’d like to keep it that way. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Are you sure?” Jimin asks, eyeing you.

“I’m sure.”

Thankfully, they both seemingly let it go after that. When Jeongguk reappears, he joins the three of you on the couch and the conversation moves to safer topics, all of them excitedly chattering to you about what they plan to do while they’re in Jeju. 

Apparently, the four always make a point to visit a nearby citrus orchard when they come here. It sounds fun, and for the first time since Jeongguk invited you, you allow yourself to feel the slightest bit of excitement about this trip. You can’t help it. You fucking love tangerines. 

Namjoon and Yoongi return from the market an hour or so later. 

Namjoon enlists the help of the maknaes to help him haul bags of groceries inside, leaving you to hover awkwardly as Yoongi moves around the kitchen.

He and Namjoon must’ve talked or something. He looks much more at peace than he did when they left. At least, until he catches you staring.

“What?” Yoongi asks, narrowing his eyes at you as he procures a cutting board from a cabinet.

“Just wondering if you need any help,” you say, a practiced, saccharine smile on your face.

“From you?” he scoffs. “I’m good.”

“At least I offered.”

“You’re a regular Mother Teresa.”

You roll your eyes as you watch him pull what he needs from the knifeblock, silently praying he cuts one of his precious guitar-playing fingers off. But your intent to voice that hope is thwarted by Namjoon and the rest of the members ambling back inside, arms full of grocery bags.

Yoongi clearly doesn’t want you lingering, so after you help clear off the counter, you make yourself scarce until dinner is done.

You busy yourself with texting Seokjin with an update on how things are going. You know he’s probably at work, so you try to keep it as succinct as possible despite everything that’s happened since you’ve arrived—Yoongi’s icy behavior, the confusion surrounding your sleeping arrangement, the (resolved?) tension between Namjoon and Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung’s interrogation.

And then, because you want him to at least envy you a little bit, you send him pictures of the house—and then brag about your proximity to fish.

You: we’re like a 5 min walk from a fishing port too lol

A few minutes later, your phone buzzes, and you can’t help your snort at his response. It’s a selca of him pouting in his scrubs, covered in stickers of an agonized Mario.

SuckJin: I h8 u

You: <3

The rest of the night goes smoothly, all things considered. Yoongi’s maeun-tang is delicious, which is slightly annoying, but you’re not one to take good food for granted. Plus, the two of you are a lot more amicable during this dinner than the last one you shared together.

After dinner, everyone finishes setting up the equipment in the living room, which quickly turns into an impromptu jam session under the guise of testing the setup. It’s nice, being able to watch them play together without the pressure of a stage, of a crowd. They’re just fooling around, playing whatever sounds right, joking back and forth—and you get to witness it.

You’re just about to get out of their hair and head upstairs when Jeongguk gets up, intercepting you before you reach the staircase.

“Hey,” he says softly, tilting his head towards the patio. “Come outside with me?”

Wordlessly, you nod, confused as you follow him outside. Jeongguk guides you over to the swing you were admiring when you’d all arrived. You can’t help but notice how nervous he looks as you both sit, but you try not to assume the worst.

“I feel like you were kinda mad at me,” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Earlier.”

About the bed? Yeah, kind of. But you didn’t realize you’d made it so obvious.

“It’s fine,” you insist, shaking your head. “I was more flustered than anything, honestly. I just don’t want to get you into trouble.”

“You won’t,” he huffs, smiling a little. “I moved a couch into our room while Yoongi and Namjoon-hyung were gone. Like I said I would.”

Oh. Well. Now you kind of feel like a bitch.

“I’ll take it,” you offer. “You’re the one who’s here for work, anyway. I’d feel bad if I didn’t—”

“No, I’ll take it,” Jeongguk says, ignoring your responding huff. “Come on, YN-ah. I’ll barely be working while we’re here, anyway. It always goes the same way: Yoongi-hyung pretends like he’s going to let us help, and then he writes the entire album by himself. The rest of us are basically on vacation.”

“Besides, you’re here as a favor to me,” he adds. “Let me take the couch.”

You want to protest, but once Jeon Jeongguk sets his mind to something, it’s pretty much impossible for anyone to stand in his way.

“Fine.”

“Speaking of Yoongi-hyung…”

You groan, leaning your head back against the support of the swing. Everyone wants to talk about Min fucking Yoongi today. “What about him?”

“Is he playing nice?”

“He’s barely spoken to me,” you mutter, turning your head to level Jeongguk with a look. “So yes, he’s playing very nice. For him.”

“What’s his deal with you?” he asks, curious. Isn’t that just the question of the day?

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you say. “Jeongguk, it’s fine. Seriously. He doesn’t like me, I don’t like him, but I’m dealing with it. It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

Jeongguk clearly disagrees, but he holds it in, which you’re thankful for. At least you can be more candid with him than you can with Jimin and Taehyung.

“Just let me know if that changes, okay?”

“I will,” you mumble.

“Let me know if anything changes,” he corrects, nudging your shoulder with his. “Like… If you don’t want to do this anymore. I know it’s a lot.”

“It is,” you agree, sighing. “But nothing’s changed, Guk. I’ve dealt with assholes before. Min Yoongi is nothing compared to the worst of them.” 

If only he could know just how much you mean that.

“I just wish you two could get along,” he says, fiddling with his lip ring nervously. “Yoongi-hyung is a good guy when you get to know him. I’ve never seen him like this before.”

You don’t know what to say to that, partially because you have a hard time believing it. You have absolutely zero evidence that Yoongi is a good guy, and you’re more likely to believe that they’ve all just known each other way too long. That Jeongguk is blinded by admiration for his hyung.

“I’m sorry,” you say, because it’s all you have to offer. “I wish we could get along, too.”

The two of you sit in silence for a few minutes, the swing rocking your bodies back and forth. But you can only take it for so long.

“I’m gonna head up. You coming?”

“No,” Jeongguk says, shaking his head as you stand up. “You go ahead. I’ll be in later.”

You feel bad for leaving him alone when he’s so clearly upset, but you know there’s nothing you can say or do to fix it. Just another thing outside of your control. They’re piling up, aren’t they?

You offer him a sympathetic smile, and then you head inside, leaving him with his thoughts.

★ ★ ★

You’re up bright and early the next morning, a full afternoon of Teams meetings ahead of you. Luckily it’s nothing too laborious—some planning for your schedule prior in light of the new year, calls that were scheduled long before you were invited to Jeju.

Jeongguk didn’t make it in before you fell asleep last night. You find that he’s already gone when you wake, too, blankets left in disarray on the couch he’s wedged into the corner of the room. 

Guiltily, you resign yourself to staying locked in the bedroom until you’re done with your work. It’s only right to give him time with his hyungs, something he obviously needs after your conversation last night. You’re happy to leave him be, if that’s what he needs.

You’d set your alarm with plenty of time to scroll aimlessly on your phone before you need to get up, so you do just that, reading through missed texts and Instagram notifications in a groggy haze. After, you wash your face and brush your teeth in the adjoining bathroom before setting your laptop up on the bed. 

Your calls go fine, although you’re bored to tears the whole time. You don’t know why Seoyeon even adds you to these things—it’s not like you have any control over your career. They might as well cut out the middleman and brief you on their decisions via email. But instead, you silently snack on a power bar you find stashed in your bag as your life for the next calendar year is mapped out for you, smiling and nodding when necessary.

As time passes, you lose track of how many faces have cycled through your screen. You stay glued to the same spot call after call, your stiffened legs pins and needles underneath you, and you only register how much time has passed when the bedroom door swings open. 

“Hey. You in a meeting?”

Your eyes snap up from your laptop to find Jeongguk poking his head into the bedroom. With a quick glance to your calendar, you realize you’ve just finished your last call of the day, and it’s not even two in the afternoon.

“No, I’m all done,” you say, shutting your laptop and waving him in. “What’s up?”

“Namjoon-hyung’s gotta go back to Seoul, so we’re taking him to the airport,” Jeongguk says, kicking the door closed behind him and sitting on the edge of the bed. “And then we’re gonna fuck around in Jeju City for a little bit. See the sights and all.”

“Oh, okay.”

Is this an invite, or…?

“Yoongi-hyung’s staying, though.”

Fuck. Nope, not an invite.

“Is he,” you hum, acting as unbothered as possible.

“We got some songs started today,” Jeongguk says, studying your expression for a moment. “The rest of us are burnt out, but he wants to keep going.”

“Well, do you want me to join you guys, or—”

“I want you to stay and talk to him.”

There it is.

“Jeongguk,” you huff, a protest on the tip of your tongue.

“YN, it’s worth a shot! Maybe if you two have a chance to talk you’ll find out you have more in common than you think.”

“I don’t think he’ll be happy if I interrupt his songwriting to have some kind of Kumbaya moment, Guk,” you sigh.

Jeongguk stands up from the bed, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“Can’t you at least try?” he says, his voice clipped as he paces. “Both of you are so fucking stubborn. Maybe you can bond over that.”

He’s one to talk about being stubborn, but whatever. You’ll let it slide, only because you feel so fucking guilty.

A long moment passes, and at your silence Jeongguk stops in his tracks to look at you expectantly. Fuck. Fuck this man and his stupid big brown eyes.

“I can’t promise you anything,” you finally say.

“Like I said, I just want you to try.”

He’s still tense, but at the hint of acquiescence from you, he softens. And that little bit of softness is enough for you to fully give.

“Fine,” you huff. You can already feel a migraine coming on.

“Thank you,” he beams, pulling you into a tight hug.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, patting his back. Your heart flutters just the slightest bit because you’re a weak, weak woman. “Just don’t get your hopes up, okay?”

“I won’t!” he promises, pulling away with a bright grin. Hopes absolutely all the way up.

Goddammit. You hope Yoongi is feeling talkative today, because if not, you’re going to be the one crushing this poor guy’s dreams.

At this point, you’ll make him talk if you have to. Anything to keep that from happening.

“Go,” you say, nudging him towards the door. “I can’t talk to him until you guys leave.”

He clearly doesn’t need any more motivation than that, because then he’s out the door.

“You’re the best, YN!” he calls as he books it down the hallway, leaving you to flop back onto the bed with a groan.

Well. You’ve fucked yourself now.

***

You allow yourself the luxury of taking a shower before you head downstairs to face Yoongi. Maybe part of you is trying to prolong your peace, but you also haven’t felt clean since you got off the plane yesterday.

Still, you take your time, giving your hair a thorough wash and meticulously applying your skincare. By the time you dry off and exit the bathroom, a large cloud of steam follows you into the bedroom, still lingering in the air as you pull on some clean clothes.

What’s the right outfit to wear while you’re waving a white flag at your sworn enemy? Will a sweater and jeans cut it? You reason that you might as well be comfortable for this, settling on something soft and cashmere for the top—because you’re worth it!—and then pulling on a baggy pair of blue jeans.

Your socked feet finally pad down the stairs in search of the man himself, but you don’t have to look very far.

Yoongi sits cross-legged on the floor in the living room, his signature custom McCarty laid across his lap as he scribbles in the notebook in front of him, brow furrowed.

You know it’s not going to be easy to get him to talk, but you can’t help but feel annoyed when you sit down in front of him and he doesn’t even lift his head. Asshole.

“Yoongi,” you say, waving your hand in front of his face.

It doesn’t make him look at you, still scribbling away, but you at least get a grunt in return this time. You’ll take it.

“Don’t you think you should take a break?” you say. It’s obvious you’re fishing, but looking at him, it’s clear he needs one anyway. He looks exhausted. Did he even sleep? Or did he start working when everyone else called it a night? He’s not wearing the same clothes from last night, white thermal replaced with a black t-shirt and matching beanie, but that doesn’t mean he slept.

Not that you care. 

“No.”

Okay, you expected that. God forbid he make things easy for you.

You watch as he drops his pen, gaze still on his open notebook as he strums at the strings of his guitar, humming a half-baked melody under his breath.

“Why’d you pick Jeju?” you ask, satisfaction swelling when he glances up, meeting your eyes. But then it fizzles out when he looks away again.

The seconds tick by and he remains as tight-lipped as ever. Annoyed and antsy, you resort to filling the silence yourself, hoping you’ll get him to break if you just keep talking.

“I mean, it’s nice here, but you guys could write an album anywhere. There’s gotta be a reason you picked here, of all places.”

More silence. You want to give up—you could give up. You could easily tell Jeongguk you tried, and it wouldn’t necessarily be a lie. But you owe it to him to try harder.

Huffing, you reach out and close the notebook between your sitting bodies, earning a sharp glare from the man in front of you.

“C’mon, Yoongi,” you plead. “I’m really trying to get to know you here.”

With a long sigh, Yoongi looks up at the ceiling, his eyes rolling dramatically.

“Okay, fine,” he concedes. “If it’ll get you to shut the fuck up. What do you wanna know?”

Triumphantly, you ask about the house—if you’re going to be forced to make nice, you might as well ask questions you actually want to know the answers to. Who actually owns this house and why seems like as good a place to start as any.

“I own it,” Yoongi says. It seems like he’s going to try and leave it at that, but when you fix him with a withering stare, he continues with a sigh. “It used to be an Airbnb, but after our first stay I wanted it for myself. So once I had enough money from the first album, I negotiated with the owner. Bought it for a ridiculous price, but it’s mine.”

“It looks so well-maintained,” you offer, hoping he’ll continue if you resort to flattery. Plus, it’s true.

“I didn’t just buy it for us,” he says opening his notebook again. It doesn’t go unnoticed that he slides it out of your reach. “My family uses it sometimes, like a vacation home. When I was growing up, they always talked about taking family trips here during the summer, but money was too tight most of the time. Now they can come whenever they want.”

Oh. That’s… actually kind of sweet. Huh.

To your surprise, he entertains more of your questions without a fight. Where does his family live? (Daegu.) Does he have any siblings? (An older brother.) Is the swing outside really handbuilt? (Yes.) Who built it? (Yoongi did.)

His answers are succinct, but at the very least you’ve got him talking. As he continues to strum his guitar, you decide to push your luck and switch topics, hoping he’ll continue to play along.

“What are you working on?”

Yoongi grins, meeting your eyes again. “I’m writing a song for you.”

Uh oh. 

He’s fucking with you, right?

All kinds of alarms are going off in your head, but still, you can’t help yourself. “Is that so?”

“Mhm. Listen.”

Without missing a beat, Yoongi starts playing the chords he’s been half-heartedly strumming since you sat down, this time in earnest. And then, his gravelly voice fills your ears as he sings the lyrics he has written down in front of him.

Well, it's ever so funny 'Cause I don't think you're special, I don't think you're cool You're just probably alright But under these lights you look beautiful And I'm struggling, I can't see through your fake tan Yeah, and you know it for a fact that everybody's eating out of your hands

But what do you know? Oh, you know nothing Yeah, but I'll still take you home

What. The. Fuck.

Is this why he’s been entertaining you this whole time? Was it all just a set-up for the most insulting punchline you’ve ever heard in your life?

He doesn’t even bother to suppress his laughter when you snatch his notebook and throw it clear across the room.

“You are such an asshole!” you shout, surging forward to push roughly at his chest.

“Come on, dollface,” he says, shoulders shaking with the force of his laughter. “It was funny.”

“The fuck it was,” you snap, scrambling to your feet. Fuck this. You can really say you’ve tried now, and you don’t think Jeongguk would blame you one bit for calling it quits after Yoongi’s little show.

You turn on your heel, ready to run upstairs and lock yourself in your room until the maknaes get home, when you feel a strong hand grab your elbow. You don’t know when Yoongi got up, but before you can react, you’re whirled around to face him with your back pressed against the banister.

“I knew you were boring, but I thought you’d at least have a sense of humor.”

“Fuck you,” you say through gritted teeth, jerking your elbow out of his grasp. He lets go easily, but for some reason, you don’t move. You don’t retreat up the stairs. Instead, you stand stock still as the both of you stare at each other, your chest rising and falling with your anger-fueled breaths.

Just like he had when he caught you staring yesterday, Yoongi raises an eyebrow at you. A challenge.

“What’s your problem with me?” you manage, unsure of what to do with the way he’s staring you down. Why is he so close to you? Why can’t you bring yourself to move away?

“Stupid question. I’ve been pretty clear about that.”

“No, seriously,” you snap, jabbing your index finger into the center of his chest. “You said you know more about me than I think. What do you know?”

Silence. Nothing but a stupid, amused smirk plastered on his face. Of course. If he wants you to play a guessing game, you will. Not knowing exactly what he’s holding over your head is driving you insane, and you can’t do it anymore.

“Do you know about the photos?” you ask, your voice weak now.

Yoongi blinks at you, bewildered.

“Huh?”

You let out the breath that you were holding. Thank fuck. Thank fuck. Okay, he doesn’t know. Holy shit, you’ve never felt so relieved.

Shaking your head, you soldier on, despite your overwhelming urge to throw up. Your mind wanders to the lyrics he sang to you just a few moments ago. I'll still take you home. Instead of the power bar you ate earlier, a sudden bark of a laugh escapes your throat, visibly startling Yoongi.

“Do you want to fuck me or something? Is that what this is about?” It’s your turn to be amused now, especially when Yoongi sputters and turns bright pink right in front of your eyes. “You’re jealous that Jeongguk got to me first?”

“The fuck? Are you insane?”

“If that’s not it, what the hell is it, Yoongi? What could I have possibly done to make you hate me so much?”

Huffing, Yoongi crosses his arms over his chest. It’s clear that he’s torn about whether or not he should lay all of his cards on the table right now, but you’re not giving him much of a choice. You’re so wired that you might strangle him if he decides to bite his tongue.

Finally, he speaks.

“I just happen to be pretty good friends with Yoo Kihyun.”

Just like that, your hard-earned upper hand disappears and your stomach drops to your goddamn ass.

Oh.

Oh, shit.

There’s a name you haven’t heard in a while.

It’s satisfying, seeing you falter. 

In fact, it makes Yoongi feel all the more justified in the way he feels about you. He’d started to doubt himself after his phone call with Namjoon last week, but if just the sound of Kihyun’s name makes you look like you’re about to shit your pants, he must be on the right track.

“I… Oh,” you say, dumbstruck.

Yeah, Yoongi’s fucking caught your ass.

“Good enough explanation for you?” he asks, smug. Rightfully so, too, he thinks. 

But then you’re grabbing him by the wrist, glancing around like someone’s going to fucking overhear you or something. Like it’s not just the two of you here. 

“Come here,” you hiss as you drag him to the nearest bedroom, which just so happens to be his, slamming the door shut behind you.

Yoongi watches with amusement as you pace around the room, but his patience is wearing thin. He has shit to do.

“If you have more of your stupid fucking questions, just ask them,” he snaps. “You’re wasting my time.”

“What did Kihyun say about me?”

Ah. Wouldn’t you like to know?

But he’ll tell you, only because he’s feeling nice. You’ve put him in a good mood.

“Mostly that you were a shit girlfriend,” Yoongi says, smirking at you as he shrugs.

“I—”

“Felt bad for the guy, honestly. I’ve known him for years, you know, and he’s had plenty of girlfriends. He’s a good looking guy. But I’d never seen him so fucked up over a girl until he started dating you.”

“Yoongi…”

“And then one day, he calls me out of the blue, right? It wasn’t the first time he’d complained to me about you, and I figured I was in for more of the same,” he says, leaning back against the door as you perch at the end of his bed, wobbly. “But he said something pretty interesting, actually.”

“What?” you ask. Your voice is shaky. Yoongi grins.

“He told me he thought you were using him,” he says. “You barely talked to him, never took interest in anything he liked. Hardly spent time with him.” He pauses, before adding, “unless there were cameras involved. It’s a reasonable conclusion to draw, don’t you think?”

When you remain silent, Yoongi’s more than happy to continue.

“I tell him he shouldn’t have to take that shit, you know? It’s not fair. He’s a really good guy. So he tells me he’s going to invite you over, at least give you a chance to explain yourself before he dumps you. He didn’t want it to be a big thing, wanted to end things quietly.”

You whimper at that, your head in your hands now.

“Next thing I know, I’m seeing headline after headline,” he says, tilting his head at you. “And less than twenty four hours later, you’re at an award show, putting on this pitiful act for sympathy.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say. Yoongi can’t help but laugh.

“I don’t think Kihyun was lying to me,” he says, matter-of-fact. “He’s not that type of guy. Everyone knows that. Admit it, you were using him. And now you’re doing the same thing to Jeongguk.”

When you look up, you have tears in your eyes. Yoongi’s gotta hand it to you, your acting is getting much better.

“I was a shit girlfriend,” you concede, sniffling. “But I wasn’t using Kihyun.”

Okay. He’ll bite.

“Why even bother dating him, then? You obviously didn’t like him that much.”

“I just—” you cut yourself off, taking a shaky breath. “He was nice. That’s hard to come by.”

“Too boring for you in the end, then?”

Yoongi expects you to snap at him, to get angry, but instead you let out a watery little laugh.

“Yeah, something like that.”

Hm. Okay. 

He’s not sure what to do with that.

“Look,” you say, wiping at your eyes as you stand up from his bed. “I don’t know how to convince you that you’re wrong about me, and I’m honestly sick of trying. You want to hate me? Fine. I hate you, too.”

At least they can agree on something, Yoongi thinks.

“But Jeongguk asked me to talk to you,” you add. “He’s hurting.”

God fucking dammit. Yeah, Yoongi noticed how fucked up Jeongguk looked when he finally came inside last night. Part of him was hoping that you two had gotten into it, that Jeongguk was about to buy you a one-way ticket back to Seoul.

But no. It was about him.

Fuck.

“Can’t we just pretend to get along? For his sake?” you ask. “Call a truce, at least as long as I’m here?”

Shit. You really care about him.

Yoongi’s still not convinced the relationship isn’t bullshit, but this doesn’t seem like acting. He thinks about what Namjoon said over the phone, about the idea of losing Jeongguk over something so stupid.

Pretending to get along with you while you’re in Jeju wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Not if it means he gets to keep Jeongguk. He can always have a heart-to-heart with the kid after you fly home.

With a sigh, Yoongi relents. “Fine. But I still don’t fucking trust you.”

“Whatever,” you mutter, holding out your hand for him to shake. Reluctantly, Yoongi takes it.

“Great,” he says, dropping your hand in an instant. “Can I go back to work now?”

“Do what you want,” you say, shoving past him to open his bedroom door. 

And then you’re gone.

★ ★ ★

Yoongi doesn’t see you for the rest of the day, but even as he works, you invade every single one of his thoughts. The songwriting streak he’d been on since last night comes to a grinding halt, leaving him with nothing to show for his day alone.

When the kids get back, rowdy and excited, Yoongi’s guitar is long forgotten as he lays across the couch. Lost in thought, he only lifts his head when Jeongguk makes a beeline straight for him.

“YN talked to you?” Jeongguk asks hopefully, and Yoongi’s heart clenches.

A truce.

Well, no better time than now to start.

“Yeah,” Yoongi says, forcing the corners of his mouth to lift up in what he hopes is a convincing smile. “Yeah, Guk-ah. We’re all good.”

Relief flashes over Jeongguk’s face, and for the first time since Yoojung Sikdang, Yoongi’s on the receiving end of one of his genuine, big grins. He feels bad lying to the kid, but it’s not like you’ve left him with much choice. And it feels good to be the recipient of one of those again.

Still, Yoongi can’t help but think about what you’d said earlier. 

Yoongi might’ve shown his hand, but in a way you did, too. The photos? What the fuck did you mean by that? Is there something out there that can point to your guilt, and all Yoongi has to do is go digging for it?

Not to mention your resigned agreement when he guessed Kihyun was too nice for you, too boring. Maybe he can’t use Kihyun against you like he thought he could, but the way you’d looked at Yoongi when he was setting up Jimin’s drums…

That he can use.

He’ll hold up his end of the truce, so long as you do the same. 

But you can’t blame him for wanting to know the truth.

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PREVIOUS CHAPTER ✧ MASTERLIST ✧ NEXT CHAPTER

[ggyurae]

when it’s one-sided.

pairing: mingyu x gn!reader

genre: angst

summary: you should have moved on

You have always known the fact that he’s far too good for you— incredibly smart, charming, kindhearted, a gorgeous man who constantly looks out for his friends and anyone he meets, family person— always treats his family members well, loves cooking and is very good at it, holds no grudges even when his friends pulled multiple pranks on him, talks sweetly to animals, smiles so pretty with his little fangs out, and well— basically almost beyond perfection.

Almost, because the one thing that makes him slightly less attractive is his undying crush on his senior.

And he likes to make it obvious.

“What do you think?” You blank. Then there’s a small sigh from the right side of your seat and a knowing look from your close friend, Seungkwan. “I wish I never introduced him to you. You’re always looking at him.” He complains with a whine, and you roll your eyes.

“Don’t be dramatic. I don’t do that.” You try to deny, but your friend knows you better than your mother does. You give him a harmless pinch on his arm when he made his disgusted face upon hearing your words. You both know the truth.

But Seungkwan also knows something that you might not want to know. As a friend, though, he cannot keep any secrets. Especially if it involves your feelings. He glances at his friend who’s now laughing with Wonwoo, his roommate, and focuses his gaze back at you, his voice lowering to almost a whisper. He looks rather concerned. “Have you.. heard about it?”

You look back at him with a brow raised, clueless. “About what..?” Then you see how troubled he wanted to open his mouth, the short pause in his response and the weird, ugly feeling that’s slowly approaching as Seungkwan takes more time to form his sentence. You start feeling anxious as you wondered why your friend struggled to tell you— did Mingyu get into a nasty fight? Did he get any trouble and get caught? Does he want to move out to another country and leave all of you here? Or maybe he—

“They’re dating.“

Oh.

And your mind stops working for a minute. You don’t know how to process that information as you lost all abilities to function, eyes staring nothing, your mouth opened but no words coming out.

Numb. You feel strangely numb.

After a few moments though, it starts sinking in. Your chest feels tight, heavy and has little space for you to breathe. Seungkwan notices the shift in your reactions and panics, immediately regretting his decision to reveal the news. “Shit, hey— are you okay?”

“Y—yeah, good.” You stammer, blinking rapidly. That’s embarrassing. “It’s fine. I’m.. I’m fine.” You respond with a shaky laugh and a small wave as a sign to dismiss your little overreaction. Seungkwan wants to argue but his guilt eats him up more. His eyes soften as he apologizes. “I’m really sorry. I thought sharing this to you would help you to.. you know.”

You know. You do. You were supposed to move on way before this could happen. When Mingyu stopped making small conversations with you weeks ago, when Mingyu no longer offered, which he absolutely didn’t have to, to help you with your assignments, when Mingyu started replying late, when Mingyu did not look at you excitedly when you arrived at your friends’ usual place, when Mingyu didn’t give you random compliments about your basic outfits, which was the same boring style that definitely needs an upgrade.

When he stopped doing these little things that used to make you feel special, as if you were more than a— what? What exactly were you to him? Sure, your friends are also his friends but that does not equate to you having a close friendship with him like the others. But there was something unspoken that only the two of you knew. It lingers when he’s close, makes your heart jumps when you stand near him, and it’s warm all over your cheeks when he starts speaking to you. You could count the times you two verbally interacted, which was not a lot, but you treasured the moment every single time. You always sleep with the biggest smile on your face after talking to him.

Seungkwan is right. You’ve always looked at him. Mingyu would sometimes lock his pretty eyes with yours too. You would blush immediately and he would smile wider, proud that he’s caught you staring at him again. But now he smiles at his phone instead. Probably due to his crush girlfriend’s texts.

“Has it been long?” You don’t want to know, your heart hurts thinking about him, yet you found yourself asking for more details. You just missed him that is all, and want to gather as much information as possible through his friends since you two barely interacted. You blame it on your introverted, shy, delusional self. Things wouldn’t end up this way if you acted normal, if you stopped yourself before getting so invested.

Seungkwan can hear the difference in your voice. He has witnessed some of the worst times in your life. Was there to calm you through your emotional breakdowns, there to lend you his shoulder for you to cry on, cuddling you to sleep when your pet died, volunteered to cook for you even when he has no skills, took care of you when you had a bad fever. So when you constantly torture yourself with the thoughts of him, even when Mingyu is also one of his friends, it pains him.

“No, let’s not do this anymore. Stop hurting yourself, please.” He gently takes your palm into his and rubs soothing circles against the skin. You look up to find Seungkwan smiling gently. “Come, let’s go out and eat. I’ll treat you this time.”

You hum with a grateful smile and spend one last glance at Mingyu as your friend drags you out.

He still does not look back.

[mothandpidgeon]

Making Out to Pablo Honey (virgin!Dieter Bravo x f!reader)

Moth's Masterlist // follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

pairing: virgin!Dieter Bravo x f!reader

rating: E MDNI

summary: Dieter’s always tried to be cool. The thing about being cool, though, the more he tries, the less it works. You, on the other hand, you’re cool.

contents: virgin!Dieter, young!Dieter, lots of 90s references, cannabis, mentions of masturbation, fingering, premature ejaculating, one ferris bueller reference, reader is able bodied and not described physically moth never uses y/n.

This fic is about horny teens doing horny teen things. It's not too late to not read this if that's not ok with you.

wc: 2.5k

a/n: I'm thinking of this as a Dieter origin story. I really enjoyed thinking about him before he was the DIETER BRAVO. Anyway, this was kind of healing I wish I knew him back when I was in high school. Thanks @moonlitbirdie and @whocaresstillthelouvre for betaing and cheering me on!

“Sweet or salty?” you ask. Your head is buried in one of the kitchen cabinets, rummaging through a selection of snacks. 

Dieter sits on the counter opposite, watching you with a lazy smile. 

“Sweet,” he says. “No, wait. Salty.”

You look at him over your shoulder, your eyes bloodshot under heavy lids. 

“You’re so stoned,” you giggle. 

Dieter blushes. Despite the fact that he coughs after every hit, getting high with you after school has become his favorite past time. You never tease him for it, just put the joint between your lips while Dieter wonders if you can feel the warmth from his there. You’re both well and truly blazed at this point after smoking up in the dugout of the school's baseball field.

Dieter gazes over your body as you stand on tip toe, reaching for the top shelf. It’s like he can’t control his eyes from wandering to you when he’s like this. Sometimes you notice. 

“What?” you’ll say. “You’re staring at me.”

“You’re paranoid,” he’ll lie. 

He wishes he was brave enough to tell you that he’s staring because he thinks you’re beautiful. 

It’s hard to believe that the two of you are actually friends now. He still remembers when you were assigned as his lab partner, a girl that he was equally drawn to and intimidated by.  

Now he’s in your house after school almost every day. 

“Honey?” your mother’s voice calls from the front door.

“Shit.” Dieter hops onto the floor before she enters the kitchen in a smart business outfit. 

“Oh, hi, Dieter,” she says, smoothing the bottom of her hair. 

“Hello, ma’am,” Dieter says. 

You stifle a laugh. 

“Dieter, you don’t have to call me ma’am,” your mother says.  

“Um okay,” he replies. He can’t remember her first name. She’s told him before. Does he seem stoned? Oh, god, he definitely does. 

She scrunches her nose.

“What’s that smell?” she asks.

Dieter’s stomach plummets. The two of you must reek of pot. He’s grown to like the scent– an earthy tang that now reminds him of you. He braces himself, trying to clear his foggy mind for a moment so he can’t act sober. 

“Somebody must’ve run over a skunk,” you say. “What’re you doing home so early?”

You change the subject so seamlessly. Of course. Nothing ever seems to scare you.

“I’ve got a meeting with the Vermont people but I left the damn file here,” she says, picking a folder up from the kitchen table. “I’ll be back late if we close the deal.”

“Good luck,” you say.

Dieter bursts with laughter as your mother goes out the front door. You join him, nearly doubling over with your giggles. 

“I was freaking out!” he tells you. “A skunk! I can’t believe she bought that.”

“I know, right? She’s clueless,” you chuckle. “Look.” 

You hold up your creation— a plate bursting with flavor and texture. It’s organized into little piles of treats— potato chips, Oreos, a handful of glistening strawberries. Chocolate covered pretzels rest beside dried cranberries and several ropes of licorice separate honey roasted peanuts from fun sized Kit Kats in glossy red wrappers. It’s a feast, every bite he could ever want just when he wants it the most. 

“Fuck,” he whispers as he takes in this offering. 

Maybe it’s the pot buzzing around in his head but he can feel himself falling head over heels for you. He wants to kiss you but what if you don’t want to be kissed? What if you reject him? He could play it off as a joke like the one he told in the biology lab that got you to notice him for the first time. Humiliation he can handle but he’s not sure he could take that heartbreak. 

The cookies are calling his name so he abandons any dreams of filling his mouth with your tongue in favor of a Nutter Butter. 

There’s a big, L shaped couch in the basement that Dieter sprawls out on while he munches on the fruit. They might be the best strawberries he’s ever eaten. Everything tastes so good when he’s high. He wonders what you taste like. 

“Do you like Radiohead?” you ask sorting through a pile of cassettes. 

“Yeah. I love them,” he says. He’s only heard one of their songs on the radio but if you like them, he wants to like them, too. 

Dieter’s always tried to be cool. He has a lot working against him— built like a string bean, a goofy personality. His own fucking name has betrayed him. He got the same haircut as Leonardo DiCaprio, he saved up to buy a pair of fancy sneakers, he spends hours in the mirror carefully choosing his outfits. The thing about being cool, though, the more he tries, the less it works. 

You, on the other hand, you’re cool. Effortlessly so in your black boots and chipped nail polish. It’s not just the music you listen to or the clothes you wear. There’s something in your attitude, an aloof confidence that he’s never been able to replicate. 

Despite his anxieties, you never make him feel judged. It seems like you enjoy introducing him to new things. You offered to make him a mixtape and it sent his heart fluttering. He’s shared a thing or two with you, too— leading you through the aisles of the local video store handing you his favorite obscure movies. Sometimes you laugh at his enthusiasm but it’s never mean spirited. 

You pop the tape in and climb up onto the sofa as rough guitar strums seep through the speakers. There’s something psychedelic in the music that has Dieter sinking deeper into his seat. 

Although there’s plenty of space, you sit alongside him, propping your feet up on the chaise beside his. Dieter’s pulse picks up. He’s so aware of you so close to him, each move of your muscles as you get comfortable. He can smell the pot tangled up in your hair and the fresh scent of cotton that always lingers on your clothes. 

“I like being high,” Dieter sighs. 

You laugh. He fucking loves the sound of it, wants to be a little clown to keep you giggling away.

“Give me a Kit Kat,” you say. 

The snack plate is balanced on Dieter’s lap so when you fish through it for the candy, he can feel the pressure of your touch right on his dick. He stifles a groan, trying to focus his attention on the crinkle of the wrapper in your hands. 

He’s touched himself to the thought of you more times than he’d like to admit. There was an incident when you unexpectedly brushed your ass against him at your locker and he popped a boner. He had to take care of it in the bathroom, one hand cupping the tip of his cock as he came so he didn’t make a mess. 

“Dieter,” you say. His name sounds so sweet when you say it softly like that. 

“Yeah,” he replies. 

Some time in the last fifteen minutes, his mind wandered away and he got lost in the haze of his high. He can’t remember what he was thinking about before you got his attention or how long he’s been out of it. There’s just a warm feeling in his head and every once in a while he remembers that you’re sitting right next to him and he smiles to himself and then he floats away again. 

“You’re staring at me,” you say. 

You’re close, laying on the same couch cushion, your face just inches from his own. You have pretty eyes. Maybe that’s what he’s been looking at. Or your hair. He likes your hair. 

“Yeah,” he says with a sigh. There’s no denying it this time. 

Your lips curl into a smile and your eyes dance over his features. He feels himself leaning towards you like his head is too heavy to fight your magnetic pull. 

Your noses brush, that’s when he realizes that you’re moving towards him, too. Both of you hesitate there, an acknowledgement of this point of no return— your friendship will never be the same. 

You kiss him. At first it’s a cautious meeting of lips and, suddenly, a crash of passion and excitement. It’s sloppy and unchoreographed but the two of you find a rhythm. He can taste the chocolate in your kiss. 

You climb onto his lap, sliding your hands beneath his shirt. Having all of you there, straddling him like he’s in his own wet dream, is overwhelming. Blood rushes to his cock. There’s so much of you to explore— soft places to touch and hold and taste. He wants all of you all at once and you seem just as eager. 

Your mouth roams his neck and teeth rake against his earlobe as you rock over the bulge in his jeans. He’s so sensitive from the weed, he can practically feel the hot drag of your pussy even through the layers between you. 

Dieter fumbles with the clasp of your bra and you knock his hands away to do it for him, then unbutton your pants and do the same for him. He keeps his mouth on yours as you pull off his shirt with eager kisses. 

He slips his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties. He’s met with the slick lips of your pussy giving him a delicious shiver. You gasp and sink your teeth into his bottom lip. 

Now your hand finds him, coating his length with precum and tugging. 

“Oh god,” he chokes. He wills himself not to finish right there in your hand. 

Dieter presses a finger into your entrance, slow and cautious, watching your expression for any signs of discomfort. You’re so tight, he can’t imagine the crush of it around him. The strokes on his cock stutter and slow as he thrusts deeper until eventually your limp hand simply holds him. He doesn’t care.  The feeling of you is addicting, all slippery and inviting. 

“Ow,” you complain. 

“Is this ok?” Dieter asks. 

“Don’t just finger me,” you complain. 

He blanches, unsure of how to correct himself. If you want more, he’s more than willing to give it to you but it has nerves churning in his belly. 

“I’ve never done it,” Dieter says. 

He immediately wishes he could take the words and swallow them back down. His neck burns with embarrassment. The coolest girl he’s ever met is letting him in her pants and he just spoiled it all by admitting he’s a virgin. 

You stare at him with big, round eyes, your lips swollen from kissing. Your adam’s apple bobs in your throat. 

“Me either,” you tell him. 

It’s Dieter’s turn to stare. He’s shocked. It seems like you’ve done everything already. At least, everything a high school senior would aspire to do. 

If you were embarrassed to tell him that, you don’t let it linger for long. “That wasn’t what I meant,” you say. “It just— I don't think I can come that way.”

Dieter nods in awe. This isn’t the first time he’s gone to third base but he hadn’t felt very sure of his technique during those few encounters. You look a little nervous, maybe for the first time ever, but he’s so impressed you’re confident enough to tell him what you want, to even know. He wants to give you exactly what you need. 

“Show me,” he says. “Show me what you like.”

Your pupils blow out and Dieter’s not sure which one of you is more aroused. Eventually you regain yourself, nodding quickly and climbing off of his lap so you can shimmy your pants all the way off. 

Dieter can’t help but stare at all the parts of you that are exposed. You’re so pretty he can hardly believe he gets to touch you. His cock throbs at the sight and he fists himself before realizing that he’d better stop if he wants to last more than half a minute. 

You lay back on the couch, parting your bent legs for Dieter. He sits up for a good view as you explain the secrets of the universe. You take his hand and guide his fingers to your pussy, carefully sliding them along the side of your clit. It’s velvety soft and warm and slick and you take in a sharp breath. His cock jumps. Again, a wet stroke over you. You set a pace, your hand around his as he makes you melt.

“Woah,” he whispers to himself as he watches your body respond. 

He’s not sure where to look; at the glistening lips of your pussy, a rare glimpse at the opposite sex in real life or at your face, eyes closed and brow knit as you float in ecstasy. It’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen.

He forgets the throbbing between his own legs, entranced by your pleasure. Your grip around his hand slackens and Dieter experiments with slightly faster strokes, kissing your neck. Your pulse thrums under his lips, your whines vibrating. 

As he gathers more slick from your entrance, you grind your clit into the heel of his hand. Your hips lift from the wet patch that’s growing beneath you. Dieter keeps his hand planted on you, giving you all the friction you need. 

He tries to find a way to tell you to use him, to take what you need, but he’s speechless. Watching a girl get off on him, and not just any girl but you, feels like witnessing a miracle. 

Your muscles tighten, every single tendon in your body wrapped up like a rubber band about to snap. He can’t help himself. Dieter slides a finger inside of you. It feels even better than before, now that your walls are coated in that sweet release. 

That’s when it crashes over you. You lock up, your arms and thighs straining. He can feel your core tensing around him desperately and he thinks he might cum just from the sight of you like this. It’s not like he’s seen in porn. You’re quiet, focused, somewhere else and he wants to go there, wherever that planet of pleasure might be. 

He wants to kiss you, to taste your release and bury his face in your tits but he doesn’t dare move and ruin this exquisite moment for you. So he keeps moving with the same steady tempo as you flutter around him. 

You groan out his name, long and slow and it sounds like music. 

Dieter feels his hips jerk and, oh fuck, he’s cumming. He tears his hand away from you to squeeze it over his spasming cock. It’s too late and the wet press of you coated on his fingers doesn’t help. He paints his torso with his own warm, sticky spend. 

You stare, eyes wildly surveying the mess on his belly, still dazed as you come down. 

He should be mortified that he just blew his load all over himself the very first time he’s gotten physical with you but his veins are coursing with bliss. His head falls back, chest heaving as he catches his breath. 

“I really like you,” he says. 

Your face breaks out in a smile and you bashfully bite your lip. He feels your fingers intertwine with his own. 

“Yeah. I like you too,” you say. 

-

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