#Smart-H Series

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[awrkive]

THE LOVE PROGNOSIS, pt. 1 — JJK (m.)

for as long as you can remember, you’ve always been a hopeless romantic.

the girl who’s always dreamt of cheesy encounters with her soulmate, grand love declarations, and a cute little beach wedding to boot. but reality pretty much slaps you hard right on the face, because love, unfortunately, doesn’t come grand — it’s simple and it’s quiet, but it is quite painful, especially when the love that you’ve been seeking for all your adult life has just been right under your nose all this time.

PAIRING jungkook x female reader // mingyu x female reader

GENRE r18+ (angst, fluff, smut) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

CHAPTER WORD COUNT 20k 😍

CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC medical!au, roommates!au, surgeon!jk, surgeon!reader (they are both 4th year residents and are co-workers), corporate lawyer!mingyu, oc and jk are bffs since med school but their love language is fighting each other <3, jk and mingyu are bffs during undergrad, jk sluts it out quite often😞, hopeless romantic!oc, countless mentions of weddings and engagements, angsty undertones, it’s the… yearning? 97liners assemble lmao, the surgeons gang: jk, oc, nayeon, doyeon, taehyung <3, explicit sexual content [dry h*mping, making out, c*nnilingus], alcohol consumption, arguments 🤓, i personally have only acquired a degree on Bingewatching Grey’s Anatomy so my medical knowledge is.. you see.. greys anatomy 💔 BUT! i did a lot of research for this pls dont crucify me 🙏🏼 belated happy birthday jaykay, my forever muse❤️❤️

NOTES hello awrkive nation!!!!!!!!!!!!! sorry this got delayed!! gave up on trying to make this a one shot cos it stretched out into 50k words IM SORRY! anyways check out my trello page for updates on my writing progress 🩷 make sure to comment down ur thoughts and like and reblog to circulate hehe !! asks are deeply appreciated!! scream your takes!! let me know what you think!! also made a spotify playlist for this mini-series soooo if u wanna listen to the songs that i think embody this fic, i've linked it below 🫶🏼

[ TLP MOODBOARD ] // [ SPOTIFY PLAYLIST ]

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

For as long as you can remember, you’ve always been a hopeless romantic.

The girl who’s always dreamt of cheesy encounters with her soulmate, grand love declarations and a cute little beach wedding to boot. You’re the kind of girl who thought her high school jock boyfriend would make good on his promise of keeping contact until college. That girl who thought the guy she met at nineteen at some sleazy frat party wanted more than just sex. The girl who thought that her boyfriend at twenty-one would finally be The One after introducing her to his parents on New Year’s Eve. You’re exactly the kind of girl who thought that it was smart to get a boyfriend in her first year of med school and get proposed to in fourth year.

Reality pretty much hit you hard with a big slap on the face; because you soon found out that your love interest doesn’t suddenly come into your life while you clock in your shift at a coffee shop, and there is no such thing as grand love declarations – no one wanted to profess their love to somebody at airports anymore, or even in the pouring rain, for god’d sake! And there is never going to be a beach wedding when there’s no one to do it with in the first place.

Because even if you do everything right, men just always somehow manage to do you wrong.

Your first boyfriend, Changsub, just suddenly ghosted you after you moved to a different town for college. When you saw him again for winter break, he was dating the girl from his History class – the blondie who was always the cause of your heated arguments in the lockers because you’ve always been jealous of her. Needless to say, you never talked to him again, and Changsub never bothered to reach out either.

At nineteen, you met Soohyun at a frat party your roommate invited you to. He was part of your college’s football team – the regular famous jock, and you felt a little bit special when he showed you a little bit of attention. When he chased you for a while, you caved in and had sex for the first time. You soon realized that was his thing – “popping them girls’ cherries” – as what you’ve overheard from his equally asshole teammates when you made an impromptu visit at their sweaty, stinky locker rooms – and that he apparently had a thing for girls in the cheerleading team (you were a part of it for awhile). Soohyun just told you it wasn’t working anymore. He was out and about with another girl three days later.

You swore at twenty-one, you were smarter. Heck, you got your heart broken two times already by then by the same brand of asshole with two different names and faces! You must’ve been a bit wiser, no?

But in your defense, Jaehyun was totally different from Changsub and Soohyun. He wasn’t an athlete. He was low-key… an introvert, and a total nerd. A film major guy who was so good at getting you through his art. He told you you were his muse, and you believed it wholeheartedly for the almost three years you’ve dated, most especially when he brought you to his hometown that one New Year’s Eve and introduced you to his family on your first anniversary.

You don’t exactly know what happened then… he just ran cold. Backed out of your plans of moving in together. Suddenly got so busy with his gigs when he normally would make time. Until the elephant in the room was acknowledged and it was just over before you knew it.

That relationship was your first “I love you”, Jaehyun said it was the same for him.

Fast forward, he gets married two years into the break-up, which is six years ago from the present. He has three kids now, two lovely girl twins and one boy. You didn’t go to the wedding, just sent him a post-it card that said you’re happy for him.

Which is true. He was your first love, but the heartbreak didn’t last long like you thought it would.

Because lastly, there was Eunwoo. The guy you met during the construction of the condominium near the apartment where you were staying at for med school.

Cha Eunwoo was an intern architect around that time, a nice one at that that it didn’t really take long for you guys to hit it off. Too many encounters on the street made you think that maybe it wasn’t just a coincidence anymore that he was there whenever you walked passed by. You really thought it would be difficult for you to love somebody again like how you loved Jaehyun… but Eunwoo made it easy. He did everything right. From the cute encounter, a grand love declaration in your fourth year together wherein he proposed to you in a romantic cruise ship dinner, down to the beach wedding he promised you during that night.

What was supposed to be a three-month engagement lasted longer than you both wanted, though. And it was mostly due to you because you told him you couldn’t marry yet. Not until you pass your licensure exam. Unintentionally, it stretched into a year. Eunwoo blamed it on your internship, said you were too busy that you couldn’t really give him time anymore.

You still remember that argument so vividly inside your head. When you said you told him already that it was life for you in residency. He rebutted with the sentiment that if you wanted to, you would. But you knew it was unfair of him to say that – not when he was also volunteering himself for the mountain of projects at his firm just so he could impress the senior architects there. Eventually, the engagement was called off. You two broke up. You both settled that it was the schedule conflict… you were just both so busy with your careers. Such big ambitions. So much to prove, passionate to a fault.

But two years ago, Eunwoo got married, and his wife is a general physician. The last time you two accidentally bumped into each other at a café downtown, he said he was “so happy and contented” that he felt like “taking a sabbatical to focus on being a husband”.

You guessed then he doesn’t actually mind dating doctors. Doesn’t mind making sacrifices for them. He just minds specifically you.

Your long, tragic dating history should already stop you by now from believing in love altogether. You mean, it just never works out for you, do they? The universe gives you a taste of what it’s like to embark on that journey, but it never takes you to the final destination.

But what can you say… love is just so special to you; romance, falling in love… they hold a significant place in your heart that you can’t help but bet on it every time it comes. You just have so much love to give – but unfortunately no one to give it to, because the men you date always don’t want you in the end of it all.

It bubbles up frustration in you, especially when you see all your exes getting fucking married left and right and them having the audacity to send you an invitation – and even thank you for what you’ve helped made them become. Eunwoo made that lame ass speech in the café. It’s such a subtle physical act of slapping you right on the bone of your cheeks and violently hurts you psychologically.

You’re frustrated that marriage seem to come easy for them, but never for you.

It’s why you unintentionally spat water out of your mouth when one of your co-residents, close friend, Nayeon, announced:

“Minhyuk proposed!”

Naturally, your other friends at the cafeteria attend to your spluttering, with Doyeon patting your back and asking, “Girl, are you okay?”

You shake your head repeatedly at them, tapping your chest to regulate your breathing, putting on a tight smile before turning to Nayeon.

“I’m sorry— what? Minhyuk proposed?” You ask her, and you don’t intend it to sound incredulous.

Nayeon, thank god, doesn’t notice it. And you realize it’s because she’s in a lovesick haze to care about anything else.

“Yep!” She almost squeals. “You guys are all invited to the engagement party next week on Friday.” She giggles when Doyeon pokes her side, lightheartedly teasing her about the wedding.

“Oh my god, I’m so happy for you!” You say, grinning widely, but your jaw hurts from the way you forced it. You look at each one of them; Nayeon, Doyeon, and Taehyung. “You guys are soon gonna be… married.”

Taehyung turns to Doyeon, taking a bite of his sandwich. “Doyeon’s still single, though.”

Doyeon throws a napkin at him. “It’s because your kind are bums. Anyway, Taehyung is also still not married.”

Taehyung pauses. Then, he purses his lips into a thin line, raising his eyebrows, nodding slowly.

“Well… about that…”

“He’s planning to propose to Hyerin!” Nayeon exclaims and quickly covers her mouth when some of the doctors in the cafeteria turned their heads to look in your direction. She shrinks herself small, as if realizing what she’s done, and then her eyes widen when she sees your guys reaction. “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry, Taehyung!” Nayeon quickly apologizes to him who looks like heaven and earth fell on him. She scrambles to say, “It’s just that I saw the ring in his locker today and so of course I have to ask and you guys met Hyerin, she’s an amazing woman and I’m so excited for her and Taehyung and she are a good couple aaand… I’m shutting my mouth.” She stops, closing an imaginary zipper over her lips when she notices the death glare Taehyung’s sending her way.

He turns to look at the rest of you.

“Well… you heard it from her.”

“Oh my god, Tae! This is insane!” Doyeon tells him. “When are you proposing?”

Taehyung shakes his head and rubs his nape. “I don’t know… she has this, uh, case that she’s confident on winning this Thursday. Maybe I’m going to do it when she gets home that day…” he trails off, and Nayeon coos at him when she sees his ears turning red. Doyeon throws back the napkin Taehyung threw at him, and she receives a juvenile pinch on the arm from Taehyung back.

You laugh along with them.

But deep inside, you’re finding it hard to process all the information that you learned today. You were just letting out words when you said that they were all going to be married, an exaggeration at best, because Nayeon is apparently now a fiancé, Taehyung has been in a long-term relationship with his prosecutor girlfriend that it’s easy to assume their next step is tying it down, and Doyeon is single but you refuse to believe that’s the case. It’s a wild theory that your friends have but you all feel like she has a secret boyrfriend or something.

Apparently, though, you’re not exaggerating at all. Because Taehyung is indeed planning to tie it down.

“It seems like everybody is getting married these days, no?” Doyeon mentions. She looks at you and you feel your heart beating abnormally for some reason. “What about you, __? How did that blind date last week go?”

She’s talking about the guy whom your cousin set you up with a few months back and have only gotten around to meet a week ago, Park Hyungshik.

They all seem to eagerly wait for your answer, and you can only meekly shake your head, sipping on a juice box so your jittering fingers can have something to do.

“It was okay.”

You can see the way their shoulders deflate, and you know you don’t need to explain the details for them to know how bad the date actually went.

“Fuck men.” Doyeon sighs.

“I agree.” Taehyung affirms, followed by Nayeon.

It earns a laugh from you.

“Fuck off, you guys.” You say, rolling your eyes, knowing they’re blindly judging Hyungshik in unconditional support for you. The joke is appreciated though, as it makes you light up and forget about the sudden grey that washes over your insides at the terrifying thought that maybe you’re never going to be married at this rate.

“You’re laughing right now but I’m still scared that you’ll just put up an IG story of you and Jungkook getting married on a random Sunday.” Nayeon suddenly says which elicits quite a violent reaction from you.

“Fucking gross, Nayeon!” You slap her on her arm and she gives you an ingenuine, “Owe!”

Taehyung laughs and adds in another nonsensical input, “That’s where my grandma and grandpa started, by the way. The line between love and hate is thin, after all.”

Your face contorts into a deeper frown every passing second as they continue to tease you.

“Fuck you, Taehyung. I’ll kill you in your sleep and me and Doyeon will hide the body.” You threaten him with your eyes and when he only laughs more, you make quick work of your hands and snatch out his egg omelet, putting it in your mouth fast enough he doesn’t get the chance to take it back.

“Aw, man! Hyerin cooked that for me!” He whines, going back to his seat, defeated after trying to get back the food from you.

But Nayeon is more concerned about another thing.

“Why is it only you and Doyeon? I can help hide Taehyung’s body, too!” She says, face painted with an expression so solemn as if you betrayed her.

“You made the joke first, you don’t get the privilege.” You cross your arms under your chest.

“I’ll commit perjury for you in court. Doyeon can’t do that ‘cos she still hasn’t told us about her secret boyfriend.” She insists.

Taehyung deadpans. “You guys really do love me a lot here, no?”

“We never pretended to love you, Taehyung,” Doyeon taps his arm, giving him a contrasting look of faux sympathy. “And for the nth time, I do not have a secret boyfriend,” She says dryly, sounding exhausted for having to say it again. And then, she turns to you, “Where is that punk, Jungkook, anyway?”

You scowl at her. “Seriously guys, why do you always look for him from me?”

“It’s just that you always know where he is, babe.” Nayeon says as a matter of fact. “No offense.” She says, looking straight into your eyes. When she sees your eyebrow raising higher, she adds quickly, “And malice!” And then she continues some more, “Even though I personally think you’d be cute together and all but we understand perfectly you both just have this sort of weird relationship where you’re platonic roommates and you’re like best friends but you argue all the time for no reason—”

“Oh my god, shut up, Nayeon.” Doyeon cuts her off before she goes on a spiral again.

“See why it’s only me and Doyeon who gets to hide Taehyung’s body when I kill him? You’re gonna tell the police word for word how exactly I did it.” You tell her, and she pouts at you.

“And we’re back to killing me again.” Taehyung comments, sighing, and you stick your tongue out at him in that juvenile manner, only that Taehyung does the same because he’s an even bigger child than you.

“Kids, stop fighting.” Doyeon warns. “Seriously, where is Jungkook?”

“He told me he has a laparoscopic cholecystectomy.” You say.

“Damn.” Comments Taehyung.

Everybody including you nod in understanding.

It’s always been an inside joke in your friend group that Jungkook and you are gonna end up marrying each other because you’ve known each other for a long time, the closest to each other, live together – and you both are also the ones that can’t keep a relationship.

After your breakup with Eunwoo in the middle of your internship which was four years ago, you took a break from dating for a very long time. It’s only two years ago that you picked up going on casual dates, having quick flings, all that sort of stuff. It’s an occasional thing and they never end up as something more.

It’s why you’re still single up until now, and it’s not even that you want to be so – you prefer to be in a happy, loving relationship, thank you very much – but you yearn for a deeper connection with someone, and every date just doesn’t seem to click. And even though you find a little ugly bitterness when somebody brings up marriage, you would never, ever want to settle down with somebody just ‘cause you feel like you have to.

Meanwhile, Jungkook is a special case. He’s single because he wants to be. He’s single because according to him, the bachelor life has “chosen” him and he can’t do anything about it.

It’s why he goes to this myriads of dates… with those… women. Sleeps around. Never attempted a serious relationship as far as you’ve known him except that one time in your last year of med school when he exclusively dated Min Sora for about a year.

You don’t judge him for the kind of life he lives. He’s just an admittedly good-looking, liberated guy who hooks up with good-looking women who are looking for the same fun as him. When you asked him if they ever do fall, he told you that they always agree prior sex that it’s just going be a one-time thing (two or three or four times if they particularly like each other… or whatever the hell he said).

Despite that, Jungkook is – and always has been your best friend. You met each other in med school and were in the same study group together with Doyeon and Taehyung.

As much as heartbreak is a constant in your life, Jungkook is a frontrunner in it as well because from being in almost all the same classes during med school for four years, you both decided to live in the same apartment unit together.

It has two different bedrooms, of course. The apartment’s a big unit he and Taehyung owned three years ago until Taehyung moved in with his girlfriend. Jungkook couldn’t pay for it all by himself, and the only logical roommate choice was you because when he proposed it to Doyeon, she just looked at him disgusted beyond belief.

You’ve been with each other for so long it’s quite impossible to not know the other like the back of their hand. You’ve seen him during his worst in med school days up until the years of your residency as does him you. You both shared the highs and lows of life with the other’s presence, and as much as you both quite differ in the way you approach certain things in life – he’s ultimately your person, the one-call-away friend (or the one-knock-to-the-door-friend), and the guy you can always lean on when things are just particularly hard to bear.

Jungkook may not be the most ideal when it comes to romance, but he’s the guy you’d certainly wish was your friend.

Why you don’t understand when the rest of your friends tease you both is because you’re so… platonic with each other. Sure, you’re closest – you knew each other first – but you and Jungkook never acted borderline sweet for other people to be making assumptions. You aren’t the kind of friends who call each other siblings but then get weirdly clingy towards each other behind everyone’s backs.

You may have had a tiny bit of crush on him when you first saw him during first year of med school – it’s a common fact that he’s handsome and whatever, okay – but he had never shown interest; from post grad all throughout the years of your shared residency. You never, either.

But maybe it’s the teasing, since you always fight like goddamn children whenever you’re near each other. There’s nothing romantic about it, though, you don’t think so. In your defense, that’s how your dynamic works! That’s how your friendship with everybody works! If you didn’t banter with a person, you probably hate them.

Shaking the thoughts of Jungkook in your head, you continue to eat your lunch, asking questions about Nayeon’s further plans, squeezing your break with the rest of your friends, knowing your pager is going to beep anytime soon.

What Doyeon said, though, everybody does seem to be getting married these days. If you could sigh, you would, but you have to do with a little bit of internal mulling for now lest one of the gang notices and you get interrogated for it. You don’t want to get aired out for feeling suddenly weird at the tough realization that again, everybody seems to be getting married and proposed to except… you.

You’re happy for them – you really are! You’d be such a shit friend if you weren’t. But there’s a pang in your chest and you know exactly where it’s coming from.

There was an added case to the OR schedule when you checked it earlier this morning, and you were assigned to it as per instruction from the chief of your team – a melanoma excision.

After your lunch, you went to scrub in for the surgery and it was what made you busy including the paper works needed to be done, so busy that you thought you’d forgotten the pain from a while ago.

Turns out, it sat at some bench at the far end of your heart, hiding and shrinking itself for a little while, only showing up when it’s time for you to clock out; in the quiet of the locker room, alone while you change out of your scrubs.

You let out a heavy sigh and lean your forehead to your locker door, closing your eyes and getting your breathing even.

You’re just tired from work. You tell yourself. You had two surgeries today; it would be true. But you know it’s not entirely that. It’s the reminder of your loneliness when you see an envelope peeking out from your locker.

You take out the invitation card for Nayeon’s engagement party she’s given you this afternoon. It’s a thick off-white material that has her and her fiancé’s name printed on gold beveled font. So intricate to the touch; you deduce once you run your fingers over it.

“Yo, what are you up to?”

You quickly stand up straight and hide the envelope behind your back, your other hand going right above your chest when you turn around only to see Jeon Jungkook approaching the inside of the room.

“Jesus christ, learn to knock.” You say, genuinely surprised and taken aback. Jungkook cocks a brow at you.

“Feisty.” He muses, and the way his eyes fall to your chest makes you realize you’re still in your bra having not put yourself into a clean and fresh top yet since you decided to have a sentimental moment in your locker door like some high school girl.

“Asshole.” You mutter under your breath, making quick work of putting on a shirt.

Only when you’re done wearing it do you see Jungkook stripping out of his own scrubs until he’s left with only his boxers across from you.

“Some decorum, please?” You tell him, turning around to sit on a bench to change out of your sneakers and wearing a more comfortable pair of sandals.

You hear Jungkook laugh behind you.

“What can I say? I’m a bit of an exhibitionist, you see.” You take a quick look at him so he can see how far your eyes roll to the back of your head. Jungkook ignores that, wearing his shirt while he says, “You’re out the same time tonight?”

You take out your ponytail and comb your hair through your fingers to fix it.

“Yeah. You?”

Jungkook smirks and suddenly there’s something flying at your direction. You’re quick on your reflex and manage to catch it on time, only to realize it’s his keys.

“You’re driving.”

It earns an instant groan from you.

Jungkook puts on another pair of shoes while laughing. “What? I drove us here this morning.”

You’re about to give him an attitude but then you realize making him pity you may be more effective. Stepping closer to him, you sit on the bench where he placed his foot to tie his shoes on. You look up at him and try your puppy face on.

“But I had two surgeries today, Kook.”

Jungkook stares at you, his expression unreadable. A few seconds pass by, with you blink up at him, and you think he’s gonna cave.

Instead of getting swayed by your poor attempt to get his sympathy, he takes down his leg and says with a sarcastic smile on his face, “I did a major one. Yours were both minor.”

Your shoulders deflate, making sure to jab at his thigh that was at eye level and snark, “And two is more than one. Fuck off, Jeon.”

Jungkook follows behind you while his boisterous ass is laughing.

“Don’t get pissed at me, are you kidding? It’s your turn to drive. Favor for a favor.”

You turn back to him, and because you were walking in a faster pace, he crashes to your back. He grips your shoulder, pursing his lips into a thin line, obviously holding in another fit of laughter.

“You’re gonna drive us tomorrow here, do you understand?” You say, giving him an ominous glare.

Jungkook raises his hands up. “Okay, okay.” He nods his head, and to piss you off more, he adds, “Bossy.”

That earns him a pinch to the side which he quickly dodges. Rolling your eyes, you shake your head and continue to head towards the exit.

You both enter his car soon after.

“I miss my car…” you longingly say, turning on the ignition to start driving.

“It’s still in the shop?” Jungkook asks while rummaging around his compartment glove to look for a snack. He always has a few in it. It’s convenient.

“Yeah, the mechanic told me it’s gonna take a few more weeks. So,” you look at him bitterly.

“That’s tough.” Jungkook comments, opening a granola bar and biting on it. He extends his hand to you. “You want some?”

You stretch your neck to the side, eyes still on the road while taking a bite off his food.

“Tough because you can’t bring your girls here anymore?” You joke a little. Jungkook gives you a dirty look. Your eyes widen a little, realizing what you just said. “Please say you don’t fuck in your car. I’ve touched your passenger seat and your backseat.”

“Give me more credit, yeah? I don’t fuck in my car, that shit is unhygienic as hell,” Jungkook rolls his eyes, and you heave a sigh of relief upon his confirmation. “I wine and dine my women before we do the deed, thank you very much.”

“You’re just so sweet, aren’t you?” You say with a straight face.

Jungkook sing-songs. “Just like how they like it.”

“You’re really beating them off with a stick these past few years, huh?”

“A gorgeous stick, might I add.”

That earns a disgusted groan from you, which he laughs at, and you drop the subject before it even goes to another place.

There’s a comfortable silence that sits on the air for a while until Jungkook speaks.

“Hey, what was that earlier?”

“Hm?”

“In the locker room.” He says.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat. Clearing your throat, you answer, “Oh, it’s just, uh… Nayeon’s getting married. Do you know that?”

“Yeah.”

You turn to him in surprise. “Wait, how? You didn’t eat lunch with us.”

Jungkook snorts. “I saw the invitation cards in her locker yesterday, she thought she was being discreet. She threatened me to keep it a secret when I asked her about it, though. I guess she told you guys today at lunch?”

“Oh my god, you really need to stop snooping in everybody’s locker.”

“I do not snoop in in everybody’s locker.”

You give him a certain look. Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Don’t change the subject.”

Letting out a heavy breath, you look straight ahead as you say, “I don’t know. I wasn’t doing anything…”

“Just getting a little sentimental in the locker room?”

“A bit.” You purse your lips. “But it’s not a big deal.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything to that. From your peripheral vision, you can see him staring at you but you choose to ignore that, focusing on driving instead.

“If you say so.” He says after a while.

You’re thankful for the dismissal. Jungkook’s usually insistent that you tell him everything – he’s just nosy like that – but deep down you know it’s because he cares. And if you’re in any trouble, he’s always willing to be there for you may it be listening to you vent or eat unholy amount of Chinese take out in the middle of the night.

As you went on the road, he played a few of his playlists and they served as background noise as you both talked about your day, like how your surgeries went. It’s a usual drive when you’re both in the same car together – which you’ve done quite a few times now because after all, you work in the same building and gas is expensive. It’s the most logical way to save up in this economy.

These past few weeks, though, it just so happened that your car got a little bitchy and started to act up so you made a bargain with Jungkook.

Anyway, you both arrive at your apartment shortly, with Jungkook and you taking turns in the shower.

“You wanna order in something?” Says Jungkook who’s currently drying his hair, a towel wrapped around his lower half.

He wasn’t kidding when he said he’s some kind of exhibitionist. Jungkook has the habit of walking around the apartment shirtless and sometimes with just even his boxers on, and it’s not like you aren’t used to seeing it! You admittedly see a lot of it when you guys would change in the locker rooms back at the hospital, but that is work, and you have more things to worry about at work other than your co-worker changing in front of you.

Still, it’s hard to get used to his exhibitionist tendencies. You had a hard time with it especially in the first few months of living together, but you had to adapt, and right now, even though you can say you’re partly immune to it, his naked upper half still bothers you. A little.

Listen, you’re a human being with primal instincts and men who have good bodies do, in fact, distract you a tiny bit.

“Nope.” You take a sip of the glass of water, closing the refrigerator with your foot, looking at Jungkook who groans at your answer. “What?”

“I was hoping we could split the delivery fee.” He deadpans.

“Wow. And they say chivalry is dead.”

Jungkook laughs while you head towards your room. He follows you until you reach your door so you turn to him, putting your hand on your hip as you ask, “What?”

“Don’t think too much about it.”

Your furrow your brows. “How do you mean?”

“The wedding,” Jungkook says with a soft smile. “And weddings, in general. I know you’re thinking about a few things up in that smart brain of yours. Don’t.”

You’re completely taken aback by his words, but at the same time, you’re not at all that surprised. Jungkook can read you almost like an open book.

Still, you decide to lie.

“I’m not thinking about weddings, weirdo.”

“Liar,” Jungkook’s brow arches, and you know he’s figured out your shit. “Your nostrils flared up. You’re lying.”

You groan, giving him a light jab at his bicep. Jungkook chuckles.

“My nostrils do not flare up.”

“It does so,” Jungkook points out. “Like this.” He stands there on your door and start to purposefully enlarge his nostrils to imitate you.

You roll your eyes. “My face is not like that when I lie. Go back to your room,” you say, pushing him slightly out of your doorway, ready to close it in front of his face, but you add more, “And don’t bother me.”

Jungkook stands up straight and gives you a salute. “Yes, ma’am.” he says in a register octave lower, walking away with laughter as you tell him he’s annoying. You roll your eyes once again before finally closing your bedroom door.

A lot of people may judge your love for romance as naivety, but you really couldn’t care less. Even if you get heart broken countless times, love will never fail to make your heart soft and make you feel like you’re floating.

It’s exactly what you think as you look at Nayeon and her fiance, Minhyuk, on the stage huddled so close together, laughing and giggling to each other. They look so incredibly happy. So connected. So sweet. It brings a feeling of warmth to your heart – to see one of the most important people in your life finally meeting the person she wants to spend the rest of her life with. It makes you melt on the inside to see two people so deeply in love that it emanates in the whole venue of the garden their engagement party is being held at today.

The weather is sunny – not too hot, like the universe knows not to fuck it up for Nayeon and her fiance. There’s also a lot of people; their families, some of Nayeon’s friends and probably Minhyuk’s – people you’ve never seen before. You assume it’s Minhyuk’s friends or acquaintances. The guest list for their wedding must be big, but it isn’t surprising, given that Minhyuk comes from the big corporate world.

“You want more champagne?” Jungkook whispers beside you, ready to stand up from his seat.

You stare at him, and you notice his eyes are not even on yours. He has it glued towards a woman across from you. A pretty woman wearing a satin dress that shows off her slender figure. You notice Jungkook’s been looking at her since the beginning of the party.

Shaking your head, you scoff. “You’re just gonna pick up some woman.”

Jungkook sputters and quickly take his gaze off the woman. “No, I’m not. I just think she’s familiar.”

You raise your brow. “Let me guess… one of your hook-ups?”

Jungkook huffs. And then off he goes.

Everybody has their plus-ones except you two, and now that Jungkook is probably off his mission to find a hook-up for the night, you’re left alone as usual.

You don’t feel bad about it. The champagne is good and there’s hors d'oeuvre on the table.

“Miss?”

You look up, finding the owner of the voice.

And holy hell.

“Hi.” You greet reluctantly, not sure if he meant you. You’re also trying to contain a blush from spreading across your cheeks because goddamn, was the man beautiful.

He smiles. Wow. Whoever this is… he looks pretty damn good.

“Is this seat taken?” The stranger says, pointing to the now empty seat beside you. You look around but can’t really spot Jungkook.

So, you shake your head, gesturing to the chair beside you. “No, not really. You want to sit here?”

He nods. “Alone?”

“No, not really… but I’m Nayeon’s friend. I’m her co-resident at the hospital.” You smile, taking a sip of your champagne that’s already about to run out. “Are you one of Minhyuk’s friends?”

“You guessed right. Law school friends. Worked at the same firm when he was a practicing lawyer until he quit some time ago,” You nod at that, and he gives you a boyish smile again. He offers his hand for a handshake. “I’m Mingyu, by the way. Kim Mingyu.”

You take his hand.

“I’m ___.” You both laugh when you shake your hands together.

His hands feel rough but at the same time warm. It’s nice.

“You’re a doctor?” Mingyu asks, keeping up the conversation.

“Yeah. A resident surgeon.” You glance at him. “I’m assuming you’re a lawyer?”

Mingyu nods. “Yeah. Corporate.”

“I see.” You nod, looking in front of you again, trying to stray from any eye contact. He’s way too attractive for your own liking.

“Say… I hate to make this about work but I just need to ask real quick,” Mingyu says, and when you look at him, you furrow your brows at the worry in his eyes, suddenly growing nervous at the depth of seriousness it’s showing. “So, I got here, and I suddenly have this sort of… feeling of heart palpitation. Increased heart rate. It’s like it’s missing a beat and it’s been making me real nervous.”

“Oh,” you look at him in concern. “That’s— did you drink uh… coffee?” He shakes his head. You place your champagne glass on the table and turn your body to him so you can face him properly. You don’t know if it’s just the doctor in you, but you forget about pretty much everything when you see or hear someone feeling under normal. “Are you a smoker, then?” You continue your line of questioning.

“I quit years ago.”

“I see… okay, uhm…” You look around, trying to look for something. “There’s a lot of roots for heart palpitations. Does your heart feel like pounding right now? Flip-flopping or something like that?”

Mingyu nods.

“Okay… well I can’t say for sure – I wish I have stethoscope with me right now. But I’m gonna lay out all the possible reasons why you might be feeling so. Smoking’s out of the question. You didn’t drink coffee, but do you drink more than one cup in a day?”

“Not in the past few weeks, no.”

“So, you’re not overcaffeinated, then. I really don’t want to lay this out on you, but you might want to check in with your doctor if this is not your first time feeling this. Heart palpitations is normal most of the time but I’ve seen lots of people get in these situations and it ends up being arrhythmia, which is a really serious condition.” You look at him straight in the eyes.

Mingyu looks stricken back. “Well… are there any more reasons out there that’s not… as dangerous?”

You still in your position.

Oh, right. There is more.

“Are you feeling certain emotions right now? Like, really, strong emotion?” You say, internally face-palming yourself because how can you not remember one of the very basic roots of palpitation!

“Yes, I am.”

“Well… certain emotions do trigger your heartbeat to accelerate. It might be anxiety… fear, panic, stress…” You look at Mingyu, noticing that his once serious face is now forming a smile. That makes you back-track, but you hesitantly continue. “... infatuation.”

And then he says, “I think you’re right off the bat with that one.”

Your lips part slightly. A few seconds passed and then suddenly, what he’s doing registers in your head, and you can’t help but to let out a laugh.

“Oh my god,” You say in disbelief. “You weren’t– you weren’t actually asking for medical advice?”

“Bad way to flirt with a pretty woman, huh?” Mingyu smiles and it’s so dashing that you shy away from his gaze, but you’re still laughing at the turn of events.

“God, no. I can’t believe I didn’t get it earlier.” You say, gingerly placing a palm on your forehead at the embarrassment.

But Mingyu just laughs along with you.

“It was just bad flirting. I’m sorry,” He says, sipping from his glass and takes a glance at you. “I can do better.”

You arch your brow. “Oh?”

“Yeah. If you let me. Say, Friday, ten o’clock?”

You chuckle. “That was really smooth.”

Mingyu was about to say something when suddenly, you hear a familiar voice approaching your direction.

“Mingyu?” When you look up, you see Jungkook. You eye him in confusion, wondering how the hell he knew Mingyu’s name.

But then Mingyu speaks and you grow even more confused.

“Jeon Jungkook?”

“Oh hey, it’s you,” Jungkook says, and he looks genuinely surprised. Mingyu stands up from his seat to give Jungkook a hug, slapping him on the back – kind of like how guys usually greet each other. You watch as Jungkook reluctantly reciprocates it.

“You work with Nayeon?” Mingyu asks, and even with a smile on his face, you can see he’s also in disbelief to be seeing Jungkook.

Jungkook nods at him, still looking a bit stricken. You can’t figure out if it’s just his surprised face or something else. You’ve never seen him look so… stunned like this before. Nevertheless, he says, “Yeah. How ‘bout you?”

“Been with Lee and Song for the past three years, Minhyuk’s previous firm before he quit and went out to the business world.” Mingyu chuckles, tapping Jungkook’s back.

Jungkook smiles. “That’s crazy, man. I can’t believe we’ll meet here again.”

Mingyu, seemingly sharing the same sentiment, says, “Man, it’s been, like, what– almost ten years?”

“Yeah, yeah, too long, man.” Jungkook nods, chuckling slightly.

You hate to interrupt, but you’re confused, and you need to confirm something.

“Wait,” You butt in, making them both look at you. “You know each other?”

Jungkook sits across from you while Mingyu follows.

“We did pre-med together during undergrad.” Mingyu says.

“You did pre-med in undergrad?” You look at Mingyu incredulously, and he nods with a bashful smile on his face. You squint your eyes at him, feeling slightly betrayed that he asked you all that stuff earlier when the whole while he has a pre-med degree.

Jungkook cuts in.

“How the hell do you two know each other?” He said, leaning back and pointing between you two. It seems like he’s finally out of the trance he was in earlier.

“I just met him today.” You tell Jungkook, blinking your eyes at him.

“Well, how about you two? How do you know each other?” Mingyu asks and the whole thing suddenly feels like watching a game of tennis somehow.

You’re about to answer when Jungkook beats you to it.

“We’re co-workers. Together with Nayeon.”

Mingyu nods his head and then turns to you, “So not his girlfriend, then?”

“What? No!” you didn’t mean for it to come out that violently, so you repeat it in a gentler manner this time. “I mean no. What?”

Mingyu turns to Jungkook who’s now looking confused.

“I was just asking her out for a date.”

You suddenly feel blood rushing to your cheeks at his straightforwardness. In front of Jungkook, out of all people! You aren’t embarrassed! You just feel weird and shy.

But Jungkook looks at you as if silently asking you if Mingyu’s being serious. You tuck your bottom lip under your teeth.

Then he nods his head slowly. “Really?” Jungkook chuckles, looking at you. “What’d you say?”

Mingyu looks at you with a hopeful smile. “What do you say?”

You feel weird about doing the whole thing in front of someone, but you look at Mingyu again – how attractive he is, his charming smile, his physique, and his charisma… and you don’t think it’d be too bad to chance at least one date with him.

So, you nod, avoiding Jungkook’s sudden way too intense gaze.

“I would like to,” But he cocks his head to the side. You chuckle, adding, “Yes, Mingyu. I’d like to go out with you.”

“Woah!”

“Jungkook, please knock!”

You look at Jungkook irritably while you lock your stud earring, standing up from your chair in front of the vanity table to pick up your purse from the edge of your bed.

“I was just going to borrow your hair dryer.” Jungkook says, trudging inside your room freely which makes you roll your eyes at him.

You watch as he expertly makes his way to your vanity table and slides one of the drawers, taking out the hair dryer.

“You need to buy your own one.” You say with a straight face.

But Jungkook just stands there for a while, and when his stare goes on longer than necessary, you start feeling conscious.

“What.”

“What are you so… dolled up for?”

You jab him on the chest when you get near him, enough to make him wince. “What an asshole way to say I look good.”

Jungkook laughs. Your heart drops.

Most of the time, you understand that your dynamic consists of teasing and bantering with each other until one of you gets pissed off. That’s usually you. But they never go too far – you’ve built a foundation of respect in your relationship which you love. However, sometimes, there are moments when you’re under a certain kind of pressure – like right now in which you only have twenty minutes before Mingyu arrives to pick you up outside of your building complex and you still haven’t done your hair – and Jungkook laughing while looking at you is not helping.

The faux confidence falls as fast as that.

“Okay, Jungkook, can you just tell me nicely if this dress looks ridiculous or if I put too much make-up on?” You say, failing not to sound defensive.

Jungkook’s quick to halt his laughter, and he looks taken aback at your clipped tone.

“What? I didn’t say anything.”

“You were laughing at me.” You point out, turning around to rummage through your make-up products scattered on the top surface of the furniture, thinking that maybe you overblushed. So, you look at yourself in the mirror.

Jungkook situates himself on your vanity table so you’ll look at him.

“Wha— you thought I was laughing at you?” You don’t answer, checking if your cheeks are way too pink, purposefully ignoring him. “Okay, that’s– I wasn’t. I’m sorry if you thought I was. I laughed at your words, not the way you look.”

You let out a sharp breath, look at him angrily, ready to present more argument, but you see the look of sincerity on his face and you realize then that you’re being borderline sensitive.

You sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Jungkook places a gentle hand on your shoulder.

You pout at him. “It’s just… first date jitters. I feel slightly anxious, I don’t know,” You sigh again, “I bought this dress two days ago.” You say, looking down at it. It has a tube top with thin straps, fitting your upper half like a glove but flows prettily to the bottom, stopping just about four inches above your knee.

“It looks good on you.” Jungkook comments, and you quint your eyes at him.

“You swear?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Why would I lie?”

“To make me feel better, I don’t know,” Then you can’t help but chuckle. “Anyway, does my make-up look okay? I didn’t put too much blush?”

“You have lipstick on your teeth,” Jungkook says, baring his own to emphasize what he meant.

“Shit.” You panic, quickly ducking down to check it in the mirror.

You soon realize Jungkook was fucking with you when you hear him laughing beside you.

“I hate you.” You hiss, pushing his thighs so he can get off your vanity table. He remains on his seat, fighting your force while laughing. “Ugh, don’t you have a date of your own or something?” You groan as you take the hair straightener on the side, sitting back down again on the chair to straighten a certain part of your hair again so it’s looks nothing but perfect.

“Ohh, so you are going on a date.” Jungkook says as if he wasn’t there in front of you when Mingyu asked you out.

You give him a weird look. “With Mingyu, remember?”

“Oh, right.” He’s quiet for awhile, and then, “You’re really dating him?”

You put down the hair straightener.

“Yeah… why?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Nothing.”

But you want to insist. “He’s your friend. You told me he’s a nice guy.”

He nods his head. “That’s true.”

You eye him suspiciously. “You’re making me nervous.”

Jungkook chuckles and pats your head. You scowl at him and slap his wrist.

“You’re like a cat,” Jungkook comments. “Anyway, I told you, it’s nothing. It’s just…” He trails off. You look at him, waiting for his continuation.

You don’t expect the genuine smile he sends your way.

“I wish it works out for you this time.”

Lips parted, you think about what to say to that, but nothing comes out of your mouth.

Jungkook gets off the table and brings with him your blow dryer. Before he heads out completely, he tells you, “And don’t worry about how you look. Mingyu likes pretty women. You’re exactly his type.”

“Really, mini-golf?” You ask Mingyu, but he already has his fingers intertwined with you as you both enter the course.

You’ve just had dinner at some fancy restaurant that served, admittedly, good steak. He told you it was some sort of special place for him; where he takes himself to whenever he closes a deal or wins a case. You tried not to think too much about what it meant that he brought you there – given that you’re only on your first date.

But hey, maybe he thought you deserve to eat good steak? That’s probably what it was.

You don’t ask.

You thought the night was over when you finished your meal and good two glasses of Malbec, but Mingyu commented in his car that he’d love to burn off the food for a moment – and you didn’t really want to leave just yet.

So, you end up at Pier 26, and Mingyu’s enthusiastic.

“Come on, it’ll be fun.” He says, and you have no choice but to follow behind him.

“I really don’t know how.” You tell him, smile bashful as you watch him carry the golf club, walking towards the direction of the ball. 

“What’s up with that? I’ll teach you,” Mingyu says, putting down the club and unbuttoning his cuff to push his sleeves up to his forearms.

You try not to focus too much on the veins that show up at the action and how his biceps are almost fighting to pop out of his sleeves. His hands look so big compared to yours when he offers it to get you to stand beside him.

“Really? You’re gonna teach me like a big… macho man?” You tease, taking his hand nonetheless.

Mingyu smiles once you’re beside him, placing himself behind you, guiding your hands so you can hold the club together.

You can feel his breath on your neck as he instructs you what to do. “You just have to stand like this,” He lets go of your hands in favour of your hips, and your breath hitches when he whispers, “Look ahead, and you just… let go.”

The golf ball jumps out of the line and you giggle at the way it completely misses the hole.

“That was… wow.” Mingyu says, staring at the ball.

“Shut up! Okay, okay, I’ll try it alone.” You say, dismissing his incredulous look, a bit embarrassed at your performance.

From your periphery, you see Mingyu closely watching you as you grip the golf club a little less tight this time so it’s not too tense when you hit the ball. Squinting your eyes, you eye the goal and let out a controlled breath. You relax your posture just like he taught you and when you finally hit the ball, it lands right in the hole perfectly.

You turn to look at Mingyu immediately with widened eyes, and when he gives you a huge grin, you do a little jump out of excitement.

“Oh my god, I did that!”

Mingyu chuckles at your enthusiasm. And due to the high of hitting the goal once, you agree to another round until it turns into a session.

You only stopped when you got tired. Nonetheless, you realize it’s actually something you’re good at, and that geeks you inside. Meanwhile, Mingyu suggested you walk around the park for a little while.

Mingyu told you he was just going to buy some food at a stall, but as you sit on the bench to wait for him, you think about how you’d like to go with Jungkook here some time to challenge him to mini-golf. You almost always never beat him to any games… surely, he must not know mini-golf, right? You can finally have the upper hand, if ever.

“Ice cream?” Mingyu returns from the stall and extends the cone to you. You try not to show your wince. You’re lactose intolerant.

“Thanks.” You say, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. It’s not that bad, and you want this date to be perfect. Mingyu joins you on the bench.

The night’s cold and you regret not bringing your blazer with you and leaving it in his car instead.

“You know,” you start to strike up a conversation. “I’m still pretty shocked you studied pre-med.”

Mingyu chuckles. “Why?”

“I don’t know… but in hindsight, I should’ve known the moment you asked me about “heart palpitations”.” You say, quoting the last two words, trying to tease him.

“I really thought that was a good idea, huh?”

You snort. “It was–” you gesture with your hand, pursing your lips. “Pretty lame, yeah. But admittedly… it was cute. So, there.”

Mingyu laughs. “Thanks. I also thought that was a brilliant way to flirt with a doctor.”

You shake your head, laughing at him.

Silence sits in the air for a while until he speaks.

“You know what they say? Study law when you don’t know what to do after getting a degree, so law it was.” Mingyu shrugs.

“You didn’t see yourself as a doctor then?” You ask curiously.

“Not really. Didn’t really think too much about it when I chose a pre-med program as my major. Soon realized it wasn’t for me. I was lost in law school too for a good couple of years, though. But I love it now,” Mingyu looks at you who’s intently listening. “You? You always wanted to be a doctor?”

You look ahead, nodding. “For as long as I can remember.”

“Just like Jungkook, huh?” Mingyu chuckles. “He really wanted it a lot. I remember him excelling during those moving tests. He had a lot of people getting jealous over him for balancing his school and basketball lives so well, you know?”

You furrow your brows. “He did basketball?”

“Yeah. We were in the varsity team together.”

“Hah.” You smile. Jungkook. A jock. “That makes sense.”

“That I’m a jock?” Mingyu asks with a teasing smile on his face.

You didn’t mean him, but regardless, you nod, finding that it also applies to him. “You look like someone who plays basketball.”

“And what’s the diagnosis of that, doctor?” Mingyu leans closer.

You nibble on your bottom lip.

“Let’s say you have a… chronic jock face.” You say, not backing down from Mingyu’s sudden challenge of eye contact.

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing. Is that a good thing?”

You chuckle. “It just means that you are conventionally attractive.”

“Ah,” he nods, but you notice his hand making its way around your waist. You don’t make a move to protest it. “Then, can a conventionally attractive guy like me chance a kiss with a pretty girl like you?”

Your breath hitch when he leans his face closer. One more inch and his lips will lock against yours.

“Yeah.”

Mingyu doesn’t waste a second longer and leans in to plant his lips on yours. It’s nothing short of a peck when he breaks away from the contact, but when you look up at him with parted lips, he goes back to kissing you again, cupping your cheek and angling your face towards him better, this time taking you closer by your waist.

It starts off as something experimental, like he’s testing the waters first. But when you take out your tongue to prod the side of his mouth, he does the same and inserts his tongue in yours.

You did not really think that you’d end up making out of some bench at a park, but here you are.

“Oh,” you unintentionally let out a low moan, and you hear a guttural sound coming out from his throat. Your hands come up to fist his collar as some sort of support, and Mingyu responds with a slight pinch to your hip.

You break away from the kiss to regain your breathing, and Mingyu takes that as an opportunity to plant kisses across your cheek down to your jaw. Sighing at the sensation, you close your eyes as you let yourself get drowned in the feeling of his soft lips against your skin.

But when you open your eyes, you see people walking by at a short distance and that’s when you wake up from your trance.

“Mingyu,” You call him, but he’s too busy kissing your neck. “Hey, I think we shouldn’t do this here.”

Mingyu stops. Then, he looks at you, eyes hooded, hair a mess, his lips swollen, some of your lipstick getting on it.

Your blood flows to your cheek at the sight. He looks unbelievably hot. God, what more if he was under you and you were doing more than just kissing and– no, no. Not going there. Absolutely no thoughts of … there.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Mingyu says after seemingly snapping himself out of the trance as well. “Shit. I really am.”

He looks so apologetic, so you put your hand over his arm.

“It’s fine. Just uh… let’s take it slow?” You tell him.

Mingyu gives you a small smile.

“Slow. Yeah. Let’s do it slow.”

What's the definition of slow, anyway?

The tension at the park was too much and you made out some more in his car with heavy petting that may have included Mingyu copping a feel of your boob and you coyishly feeling out the bulge in his pants.

Safe to say, you haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.

You started coming over to his place, but you still haven’t had sex. Not yet at least. You haven’t even taken off your clothes in front of each other yet. Suddenly, you remember being eighteen and just making out with your boyfriend – the territory of any form of sex prohibited for some reason. Somehow, you two have never gotten around that for the past few weeks you’ve hung out. It may be because you always stop it before it happens, but it’s not because you don’t want to; just that it feels like you’re going to a place you won’t know how to go back to.

So, it’s mostly date nights, a sneaky coffee hung during the afternoon when you’re not particularly busy and your schedule aligns, and making out in his car until your pager beeps or when his phone rings.

And as good as Mingyu may be with his lips when he locks them with yours, he’s more than what you thought he was.

You have to admit that you had doubts when you first met him. You don’t trust a lot of good-looking men, because they always end up being assholes. He also has the face of a guy who – in a cliche fashion – likes to break women’s hearts on a regular basis. You went to the first date a little hopeful of something real, but you knew your luck with romance isn’t the best – may be the worst you’ve ever known – but recently, you’re starting to think that maybe the poison’s wearing out and Mingyu may just be… decent.

Decent enough to be a boyfriend. Your boyfriend.

And it feels so weird to think so. You’ve been single for so long, and sure, you went to a lot of dates during the past two years but Mingyu’s going on two months, and everything just seems so… right. Like this can be it.

You hate having wishful thinking. You hate getting your hopes high. But god, he makes it so hard.

“You going with us later?” Nayeon asks, stretching her neck while looking at you.

You’re all currently at some abandoned ward at the hospital where you take quick breaks from your shift to eat or talk for a while.

“Where to?” You ask, taking a bite off Taehyung’s egg sandwich which he gave you earlier.

“We’re going out for barbecue tonight. Jungkook didn’t tell you?” Doyeon says, coming back from her quick trip to the vending machine.

You look at them confused. “No, he didn’t tell me about… barbecue or going out.”

As if on cue, Jungkook arrives in the scene.

“She’s not coming with us,” Jungkook says, and you look at him with visible offense on your expression. “She’s going out with her boyfriend tonight.”

The room quickly becomes rowdy at the declaration, and you flip Taehyung off when you hear him let out a lighthearted “boo”.

“Oh my god,” Nayeon squeals. “Mingyu’s your boyfriend now?” She asks, going over to the bed you’re sitting on, huddling closer to you ready to hear some gossip.

Doyeon looks surprised as well.

You look at Jungkook to give him a death glare. The fucker just puts his hands up in the air.

“No, god– why would you believe him?” You huff out, rolling your eyes. “Mingyu’s not my boyfriend.” Nayeon’s shoulders deflate. “Yet.” You add, and suddenly, she smiles. You take a glance at Doyeon who looks at Jungkook subtly. Or not so subtly, since you saw her. She didn’t seem to notice.

But Jungkook just wears a smug expression as he approaches you closer.

“See?” He shrugs, plopping himself on the same bed beside you. He looks at everybody. “She barely goes home nowadays.”

“Shut up, Jungkook!” You say, continuously hitting him on the arm as he makes little effort to dodge them.

But as usual, your friends love to bully you and join in the teasing.

“So, you joining or what?” Taehyung says after a while.

You actually had plans with Mingyu tonight. Just the usual dinner at his place and some movie and some fooling around, but you remember Jungkook’s teasing and felt the competitive need for him to not be right.

Besides, you don’t want to be the kind of friend who suddenly ditches their friends just because they’re starting to date – and you know that beneath their good-natured chaff is a genuine feeling of sulk because you’ve been admittedly bailing out on all your hangs lately.

It isn’t even that much because you don’t get to hang outside the hospital often – but you usually do go out on Fridays or Saturdays for some barbecue and go to a KTV bar afterwards. It’s sort of like became a tradition at this point, and it dawns on you that you haven’t been present in them for the past few weeks, which makes you feel bad.

“I’m coming with.”

Jungkook immediately eyes you with an arched brow. “For real?”

You challenge him with a look. “Yes, why?”

“I just remember you mentioning you’re going to Mingyu’s tonight.”

“Eh,” you shrug. “I’m just gonna tell him I’m hanging out with you all. No big deal.” You say, believing what you said. Mingyu’s come accustomed to your group of friends and you’re both adults who live separate lives. As far as you know him, he wouldn’t be making a big deal out of you cancelling on a plan. You think he’ll understand. You hope he does.

“Oh my god, don’t!” Nayeon cuts in. “Don’t worry about us. Go date your hot lawyer boyfriend right now. Are you insane?”

You look at her incredulously. “What are you talking about?”

Doyeon looks at you, nodding her head. “Nayeon’s right. If it’s between a date with my boyfriend or having barbecue with Taehyung and Jungkook, I’d rather be with my boyfriend,” She looks at the two guys. “No offense.”

“As if I don’t want to be with my girlfriend either tonight?” Taehyung says in disbelief.

Doyeon rolls her eyes, but she lets out a low chuckle.

“Wait– why are we fighting right now? If __ wants to cancel her date with Mingyu to come with us for barbecue night, then let her be.” Jungkook says.

In the corner, Taehyung crosses his arms and sends a certain look Jungkook’s way.

“Don’t get too excited, Jungkook.”

Jungkook and you pretty much have the same exact reaction at that.

“What the hell does that mean?”

You feel a slight pinch to your arm.

“Aw!” You slap Jungkook’s bicep for what he did. “What the hell!”

“I said it first.”

“You’re a child.” You roll your eyes.

Taehyung raises his hand. “I think you’re both twelve-year-olds trapped in thirty-year-old surgeons’ bodies.”

“Twelve’s too generous, I think they’re mentally still in first grade.” Doyeon comments.

You don’t get to rebut as you see a glimpse of the resident chief coming your way. It seems that the rest noticed the same thing, and suddenly, you’re all scrambling from your comfortable positions on the ER beds and going your separate ways to the hallways.

You went to your go-to-barbecue restaurant as soon as your shift ended for the day.

The eating becomes a drinking session until everybody tapped out but you and Jungkook. More like, you, because Jungkook wasn’t drinking at all. Doyeon was the first one to call herself an Uber, and then Nayeon and Taehyung had to leave because they have an early shift the next day.

“Don’t you have a shift tomorrow?” You ask Jungkook, downing another shot glass of soju. Your alcohol tolerance is not that high nor is it that low, but after two bottles – you admit you’re starting to feel a little dazed.

“Yeah. Afternoon.” Jungkook responds. When he sees you pouring yourself another glass again, he takes the shot and downs it himself.

“Rude!” You pout at him.

“You’re all red and shit, it’s time to tap out.” Jungkook chuckles when you show him an even deeper frown. “Come on, it’s nearing twelve.”

“I’m so tired.” You whine, not even bothering to take your glass back from him, just letting your shoulder deflate and bowing your head down, your eyes becoming droopier by the second.

After four years of residency, you feel like you have started to operate on autopilot somehow. Wake up at fuck-ass o’clock at dawn to prep for work and finish a varying number of hours of shift for the week. You admittedly barely get time to partake in leisure activities – and it’s not new per say. It’s just like in med school except you’re actually doing the real thing now and instead of grades, real lives are involved and at stake – which puts an even bigger weight on your shoulders.

It’s why you’re thankful to Mingyu; for his presence… for starting to invite you to his place rather than eat out. Don’t get it twisted– you love the bougie dinners and all that, but his penthouse is definitely way more comfortable.

But lately you’ve forgotten about what it is like to hang out with your friends outside of the five-minute breaks in the hospital – and times like these you love letting yourself loose and relax because, hey, you deserve it a little!

“Should I buy you soup to drink in the car?” You can hear Jungkook ask. You don’t answer. “Yeah, I should buy you soup.” He tells himself.

And then you see him going to the counter only to come back after a few minutes with a paperbag in his hand.

“You’re drunk.” He announces.

You snicker. “I’m not.”

“You sure are.” Jungkook shakes his head as he takes you by your waist to help you stand up.

“Just feeling a little dizzy, ‘s all.” You mumble when you fall against his neck upon straightening your legs.

“You’re not just a little dizzy, silly.” Jungkook whispers against your head.

You hum as a response and you can feel the vibration on his chest as he laughs at you. He doesn’t say another word as he guides your steps outside of the restaurant, and before you know it, you’re situated in the passenger seat of his car, with him wearing your seatbelt around you.

“Thanks.” You give him a lopsided smile, shifting around in the space to get more comfortable.

“Welcome, your highness.” You giggle at his response. “Drink up, it’s gonna help you sober up.” He says, handing you the paper bowl of soup he bought from the restaurant a few minutes ago.

You groan, taking it from him and slowly sip from the cup. Jungkook tells you to get his water flask from his backpack on the back seat when you finish your soup.

The soup and water relieve you from the acid reflux you feel in your stomach. Only slightly. Because when you close your eyes and lean back on the seat more comfortably, that’s when you feel something in your throat.

“Jungkook,” You call him.

“Hm?”

“I think I want to puke.”

Jungkook immediately turns to look at you. “For real?”

You bite your bottom lip, nodding your head repeatedly.

“Okay, shit– wait,” Jungkook looks around for something. Probably a plastic bag or whatever. But when he finishes scoping the area around the interior of his car, he seems to find nothing. When he glances at the rearview mirror, he takes a reverse and suddenly, he turns off the ignition of his car. “I’ll park here for a while. Let’s go outside.”

He gets out of the car first before opening your door. You think you’re fine to walk on your own, but you don’t oppose to Jungkook wrapping his arm around your waist and leading you to a…

Playground. The swings, in particular.

“Sit here for a bit.” He instructs, holding the chains steady for you as he waits until you’re sitting on it. He runs towards the car, and you feel way too weird in the throat to ask him why.

You recognize the place that’s not exactly far away from your complex. Maybe a ten-minute drive away.

Jungkook comes back with a crumpled plastic bag. It’s from a familiar provision shop. Probably was in his compartment glove the whole time.

“Here,” he hands you the plastic. “I’ll help you.”

You get it from him and shake your head.

“No, it’s fine.”

“I don’t mind.”

You look at him straight in the eye. “You’re not gonna help me puke, Jungkook.”

Jungkook stares at you for a while and then sighs. He holds the chains of your swing again, standing beside you, putting his hand in his pockets.

“Okay. Puke your heart out.”

You snort. You open the plastic bag and get a feel of that weird invasive push in your throat – until you realize Jungkook is watching you.

Looking up at him, you whine, “Jungkook. Don’t watch.”

Jungkook furrows his brows. “I’m not watching.”

“It’s gross.” You say, a bit embarrassed. The whole thing’s embarrassing, to be honest. Jungkook taking care of you because you got stupid drunk. It’s not the first time, and there were definitely a lot more occurrences worse than this – you’re just grateful he hasn’t kicked you out of a curb. Yet.

“Watching somebody puke?” He scoffs as he says your name. “We literally amputated a leg today, and FYI, I’m just scared you’re gonna have some serious complication while puking.”

You frown because– okay. Fair. He has valid points.

“Okay. Well. I’m not gonna die puking. So, turn around or stand back there at the slides far from me.”

“Seriously?” Jungkook asks, disbelief painting his voice.

You just nod. Thankfully, he doesn’t say any more and obediently walks about five steps away from you, acquiescing to your request.

It takes you a few minutes to settle yourself before you let out the accumulation of what you’ve digested for the day. Your throat feels crass when you’re done, and your stomach feels empty. When you look ahead, your head still feels like it’s floating. But at least you feel a little better now.

“Drink this,” Jungkook approaches you again and gives you his tumbler once again. You drink from it quickly and quietly. “Feel okay now?”

You hum, nodding and smiling up at him.

“Thanks, Kook.”

He only mirrors your smile and goes to sit on the swing beside you. “You wanna go home now?”

You nibble on your bottom lip, contemplating his question. As you look around, you notice it’s so... solemn. It’s midnight, after all. There’s a sort of eerie calmness with the cricket sounds but the wind is nice and the dark skies project twinkling lights.

“It’s so nice here,” You say instead.

“I’ll take that as a no.” Jungkook chuckles and you follow.

You look at him and sincerely, you ask, “Just for a few minutes, please?”

Jungkook’s quick to say, “Okay.”

His voice is just as gentle as the night breeze.

“Thank you.”

“It’s nothing. You’re sobering up?”

“Eh. I’m getting there.”

“Good.”

You look at him again. “Thank you.”

Jungkook sends you a confused look, but there’s a smile on his face.

“I heard that.”

You chuckle. “And I’m saying it again. Thank you.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Alright. You’re welcome. Times two. And you’re not allowed to say it again.”

You both laugh at the exchange. The silence that follows after that is comfortable.

“You know, you still remember Changsub? My first boyfriend?” Jungkook nods at your words. “He asked me to be his girlfriend at a playground. Some old one in our hometown.” You pause for a while, recalling that memory. You laugh because it was just… so long ago. But the pictures are still so vivid in your head.

“Sweet. Too bad he’s an asshole, huh?” Jungkook comments, having known most of your relationship history.

“Yeah,” You shrug, laughing still. “But I, uhm, I remember a day after that– I had, like, this whole scenario in my head. I pictured a few years down the line, he’s on his knees and he’s showing me a ring asking me to be his wife on the very same playground. I thought it would be really sweet if he proposed to me at the same place.”

“Wow.” Jungkook muses, and you chuckle at the reaction.

“I know. It was crazy. I mean, why the hell was I thinking about getting married at that time? I was literally only sixteen and I think I had an AP assignment due the day after that. I was just so in my head.” You say, looking at Jungkook who has a smile of amusement on his face.

And then your laughter fades.

“I was so naive that time. But then I was also naive at twenty. And Jungkook…” You bite your bottom lip, feeling it quiver when you look into his eyes this time. “I’m afraid that I’m still naive at thirty.”

Jungkook calls your name softly, noticing the drop on your tone and the shift from playful to… melancholic.

You close your eyes and draw a deep breath.

“I like Mingyu. I really like him a lot,” And the declaration feels weird verbally announced. You’ve thought it for the past few weeks you’ve been with him – but you’ve both never said it to each other. Not yet. But saying it out loud now – it feels different. It feels real. And you’re so scared. “And we enjoy each other’s company a lot that I feel like he likes me just as much as I like him. You know, we kissed on the first date. I don’t usually kiss on the first date. But I like him so much that I did.”

You look at Jungkook sadly. You gauge the look on his face, but he just sits there with an unreadable expression on his face, though he listens. He always does. You’re not particularly looking for any response, anyway. And he just seems to know so well that right now, you just want to vent.

“It’s so embarrassing to say but I feel like he’s it, Kook.” You swallow the lump in your throat. “And I feel like… like the last time I felt this way about someone was with Eunwoo. And that was four years ago—” You let your head fall slightly. “And I’m so scared.” You don’t intend the crack in your voice when you say it.

“Hey,” Jungkook calls you again, turning his body towards you, reaching out to hold your arm.

“What if I’m wrong? Again?” You tell him.

It takes Jungkook a few seconds to answer.

“I think, __, that you’re a person with a big heart,” You scoff with a smile on your face at that. You get that a lot. But Jungkook insists, “I think you have so much love to give, you know? And I think… Mingyu’s a lucky guy if he gets to receive it.”

That makes your lips curl. Touched.

“You think so?”

Jungkook only nods.

“Why can’t you be nice to me like this all the time?” You crack a joke.

“I’m always nice to you,” Jungkook says in disbelief, obviously finding your words absurd. You only laugh but now Jungkook turns serious, and you fear you might have induced a genuine worry in him. “Am I not always nice to you?”

“You always tease me and shit in front of our friends but so incredibly sweet when we’re all alone.”

Jungkook stutters when he says, “Well… that’s my love language. Teasing you.”

You squint your eyes at him. “Awe, you love me?”

“Okay, fuck off.”

You burst into laughter when Jungkook rolls his eyes at you.

“Hey, swing me.”

You tell Jungkook, situating yourself more comfortably on the wooden platform attached to the chains.

“A dollar per minute.” He says, standing up from his own seat and placing himself behind you.

“I thought you hate capitalism? What is this?”

“This is forced labor.” Jungkook says with a groan that you think is a feigned exasperation, since you begin to feel movement right after it.

“You broke my hairdryer the other day. Consider this your compensation.” You look up at him to give him a smarmy smile.

Fom where you’re seated, you realize just how… big his presence is. It’s not the looming, ominous type, though – it’s quite the opposite. When Jungkook surrounds you, you find a bit of comfort in it – a huge one if you want to be honest to yourself.

“And I already bought you a new one. We’re even.” Jungkook squints his eyes at you.

You laugh.

“You’re gonna borrow and break it again.”

He visibly winces. “Touché.”

Jungkook swings you while you talk about your day, just like usual. He asks you about your laparoscopy that kept you from having lunch with the rest of your friends at the hospital earlier that day, about your new scrub cap, and you gossip a little about the new lab tech having a crush on the scrub nurse you both know.

For all his complaints earlier, Jungkook seemingly doesn’t seem to mind having swung you for the past ten minutes now. He’s relaxed and gentle with his movements, and his voice is quaint and soft as he talks to you.

But then you start to feel bad for him so you tell him to stop, standing up from the swing.

“Okay, your turn.”

Jungkook gives you a big grin.

“Nice.”

You chuckle at his enthusiasm when he sits on the swing chair this time around. But when you attempt a push, he barely moves, prompting him to laugh.

“What weak ass push was that?” He says incredulously, looking at you.

You jut your bottom lip out. “You’re heavy and I’m drunk.”

The second time you push him is more forceful but then Jungkook voices out a complaint after the third, fourth, and every single time you do it. You roll your eyes at his tantrums, but then suddenly, you think of a much better idea.

You push him off the swing with all your remaining strength even though your body feels like jelly from all the alcohol you consumed an hour ago.

“What the fuck, __?”

You burst out in boisterous laughter at Jungkook’s state, his hands and knees planted on the ground. He then sits on it, clapping his palms together to get rid of some dust that gathered on his skin.

Without thinking too much about it, you make quick steps over to his direction and situate yourself beside him.

Jungkook looks at you, confused, but you only give him a grin.

“Let’s lie on the ground.”

“What? No!” Jungkook immediately opposes it. As you expected.

You scrunch your face. “Oh! Look at me! I’m Jeon Jungkook and I’m a germaphobe and I’m afraid of dirt!” You say, intentionally making your voice a pitch higher.

Jungkook deadpans. “Pathogens can kill your cells’ metabolic machinery, so, yeah? I’m afraid of dirt.”

You roll your eyes at him and while he goes off about how they can also cause a toxic massive immune reaction, you push his chest forcefully which catches him off guard, prompting him to lay on the ground. Before he can say anything, you take his arm out to spread beside you and you use it to rest your head on.

Jungkook stops his rambling after that.

“See, shut up.” You say, backhanding him slightly on the chest. You fix your gaze at the skies.

“The sky is beautiful tonight. Worry about your pathogens next time.”

Jungkook chuckles, and you feel the vibration of his body as he does so, being so close to him.

As you peer up to look at him, you see him folding his other arm to lie his head on it.

You smile, going back to looking at the sky.

“This is like in The Notebook.” Jungkook says after a beat of silence.

“Right?” You grin. “And with the pathogens, too.” You tease.

Jungkook laughs, pinching your arm in his reach. “God, shut up about your pathogens.”

You chuckle at the irony.

“That’s me,” you point upwards, referring to a big twinkling light in the sky. Then, you move your finger towards the star beside it. “And then that’s you, ‘cause I’m a bigger star than you.”

You feel Jungkook look at you from his position. “You are so drunk.”

That causes you to giggle, clutching your stomach because you can’t stop laughing at pretty much everything tonight.

“I feel like I'm not anymore. My head just feels like it’s floating but no, definitely not drunk.”

“Whatever you say.” Jungkook says, chest vibrating from laughing at you.

“Hm. Race you to sleep, Jungkook.” You snuggle on his armpit. As you do, you smell a waft of your water lily springs body wash from Bath and Body Works. “Can you stop using my body wash?”

“What?” You can hear Jungkook say, but as he calls your name and more, his voice starts fading. “__? Hey, don’t sleep on me.”

You hum, eyes still closed.

“__, hey!” Jungkook grazes your arms. You can feel your head moving as Jungkook starts to sit, guiding your back to sit upright. He calls you again, gently tapping your cheek to wake you up.

The truth is, you’re really sleepy, but not so much that you can’t hear him anymore or move on your own.

Jungkook gives up trying to wake you up, though, convinced by your acting. Soon, he goes over in front of you, reaching for your arms and placing them around his neck.

“Just put your legs around me, yeah?” He whispers against your hair once you’re glued against his back.

You hum, intending it to sound like a mumble so Jungkook thinks you don’t actually understand.

Jungkook fixes your legs around him, standing up, bouncing a little to get you nice and snug in his back. You smile at the prospect of a piggyback ride.

“I know you’re awake, silly,” He says suddenly, his voice painted with amusement.

You stifle your laughter against his neck, breaking your supposed to be convincing act.

“Race you to the car, Kook.” you whisper into his ear.

Jungkook scoffs, but he doesn’t say anything more until you reach his car. He wears your seatbelt for you, though, and tells you to drink more water from his tumbler.

You fall asleep easily mid-drive.

In the morning, you wake up with a banging headache, your eyes catching the sight of a post-it note on your desk with one tab of Advil.

morning/afternoon stinky i made porridge before i left for my shift just heat it up again when you wake up ps: your medical bill from my personal care will be discussed later when i get back home. no friends discount allowed — your angelic friend, kookie

You chuckle at the (annoyingly elaborate) sketch of an angry bunny on the side.

“Mingyu,” you call his attention. Mingyu turns to look at you. “This is a really nice place.”

He smiles at your remark. Mingyu moves his hand from your waist to your lower back as he leads you to the entrance door.

“I’m glad you think so. I’ve been wanting to bring you here for a while.”

When you both reach the door, Mingyu introduces himself to the butler. You let the two of them talk for a while, him confirming his reservation, your eyes roaming around the restaurant and taking in the classy interior.

“Please follow me, Mr. Kim and Ms. __,”

The butler gestures inside and you both follow behind him.

It’s another one of your date nights. While it isn’t unusual for you both to get fancy with dinners, you’ve gotten used to the casual dinners you’ve been having at his own place with take-outs and his impressive cooking.

But tonight is a little different. There’s a certain something in the air – especially when Mingyu especially asked you to dress a little more formally. He always has a suit on naturally with his line of work, but tonight he’s wearing a particularly shiny one. The tie is something you’ve never seen before, but maybe you just like to think that. You on the other hand settled for an indigo satin dress that hugs your figure like a glove and shows just enough skin. You’ve always thought you looked good in it.

And you think it’s perfect for when Mingyu asks something that will change the trajectory of your relationship for good.

Today marks the third month since you started seeing each other. You don’t know if he’s aware of it – but it’s been, indeed, whole three months. An monthsary some sort? Granted, there’s no official label to it, at least not yet. But with the fancy set-up and the way he cryptically replied to when you asked him what the whole thing was for tonight, you think he does know. And this is his idea of surprise.

Of course, you don’t let yourself get obsessed with the idea lest you end up with only mere assumptions.

“Thank you.” You both say to the butler as he leads you both to your table. He gives you the menu book and you take your sweet time to choose from the selection, giving the butler your orders after a few minutes.

When he leaves, Mingyu looks at you wearing his usual charming smile.

You don’t think you’ll ever tire of his face.

“This is really fancy,” You tell him, smiling.

“It’s sort of like special place,” Mingyu chuckles. “You know, Mr. Yang– the senior partner over at work– officially announced me as partner here.” He tells you, eyes looking into yours.

You feel your heart do a somersault at his gaze and the possibility of his words.

“Good steak?” You say, trying to act oblivious to the weight of his confession. You also don’t want to assume he’s saying what you think he’s saying…

“Yeah, yeah,” He nods his head, chuckling, then his laughter fades as he begins to look more serious when he continues, “So… it’s been three months since we started seeing each other.”

Your heart skips a bit when you listen to his words. You didn’t think what you were thinking earlier was true, but now that he’s brought it up, you deduce you might not be too far away.

“__,” Mingyu calls. You hum, leaning in closer to let him know you’re listening attentively. He gives you a coy smile, then his hand on the table moves over towards yours. You don’t fight your big smile off when he places it on top of yours, especially when you feel the warmth it radiates and how it looks like it could just easily enclose your own. “You said you wanted to take things slow, and I respect that. I just want you to know that this is – this thing between us – it’s serious for me.”

“I’m serious about us two.” You say immediately.

Mingyu chuckles, simpering when he looks at you again. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

“So?” You ask, waiting.

“I want to be your boyfriend. If you let me.” Mingyu says, clear and firm. “It’s just… I’m happy with our dates. And I just love hanging out with you. But I think I’ll be even happier if we go out together as boyfriend and girlfriend – officially – from now on.”

You nibble on your bottom lip; couldn’t contain the big smile you’ve been fighting against since earlier.

You’ve been expecting the question ever since you got here, but you’re quite surprised for your assumptions to be right.

“Okay.” You say coolly.

Mingyu furrows his brow. “Okay– as in…?”

“Okay, as in, I wanna be your girlfriend.”

His lips part. “Are you… for real?” You nod your head repeatedly, stifling a giggle as Mingyu begins to smile so widely. “Fuck.”

“Hey,” you lightheartedly scold.

Mingyu nods his head, still smiling. “I’m sorry, I’m just—” he cuts himself off with a chuckle. “You’re my girlfriend now.”

“Yeah.” You chuckle.

“I wish I can kiss you right now.”

You feel your cheeks heat up as you look around. There are too many people. But the hopeless romantic in you tells you it’s okay.

“Why won’t you?” You challenge him, and Mingyu arches a brow at that.

He looks like he’s giving in, but then he shakes his head. With a smile that borders on flirtatious, he leans closer to you and whispers, “Later.”

Mingyu’s sweet promise at the restaurant ends up with you straddling his lap on the driver’s seat, your dress riding over your thighs and the thin straps falling off your shoulder.

"Fuck," Mingyu breathes in your ear, hands full of your ass while you continue to grind against the bulging crotch of his slacks.

You're not any better, panting on the crook of his neck as he encourages you to move on top of him. You feel the wet kisses he bestows across the column of your neck, moaning at the delicious friction from one particular thrust of his hips.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, in your defense. Your dinner ended on a really good note and Mingyu was just supposed to lean in for one sweet kiss once you were situated in his car.

But then you swiped your tongue over his lips and Mingyu threw away his gentlemanly act for the night, granting you back with a kiss that had more fervor in it. Forceful in a way that says he wants you.

And the feeling’s more than mutual.

His coat’s long gone now, stashed away on his back seat, and you’ve already undone the top three buttons of his dress shirt. Mingyu squeezes your boob over the thin material of your dress, prompting you to let out a low moan.

“Why—” Mingyu cuts himself off to kiss your lips one more time.

“Why don’t we go to your place?”

You don’t register his words the first time, too drunk from the sensation of his touch over your body.

“Yeah?” You mindlessly say, eyes shut as Mingyu peppers kisses to your jaw down to your neck once again.

“You’ve never invited me to your place.”

At that, your eyes open and you still on top of him.

“What?”

Mingyu looks up, and you’re about to be distracted by his messy hair and his swollen lips but then he says, “We’ve never gone to your place before.”

“Oh.”

He’s quick to gauge your reaction. Cupping your jaw, he plants a kiss to the side of your lips. “I’m not insisting if you don’t want to.”

“N-no, I want to,” is your immediate response. “It’s just…” you trail off, thinking about how to approach the subject.

Mingyu hums, waiting for your next words, rubbing his thumb over your cheek. It helps you regulate your nervousness at the sudden mention of your place.

“I have a roommate.”

There you let it out.

Somehow in the past three months you’ve been dating, you never mentioned that you’re living with Jungkook. The subject just never came up – until now, that is – and you didn’t really feel the need to tell him when he never asked in the first place.

But deep inside, you’re a bit hesitant to tell him about it. Sure, Jungkook’s his friend, and Mingyu did say they were close and knew each other well, so it shouldn’t be a problem for him that you’re residing with his close friend – but that’s exactly what makes the whole thing weird. It’s one thing as a woman to live with a man in one place, and it’s another if that man is a friend of your – well, now boyfriend.

And you know to yourself that you and Jungkook are purely platonic so there should be absolutely nothing to be worried about. It’s not even that you don’t trust Mingyu to understand – it’s just that it’s not as easy to tell him straight up. Not when you’re just starting a relationship right now with an official label to it – not when you’re finally in a serious relationship after four whole years of looking and waiting.

You don’t want to ruin it. Not right now.

“Oh, okay.” Mingyu nods at your confession, understanding. “Is it why…?”

You nod your head, already getting what he means. Licking your lips, you look anywhere but his eyes. Instead, you focus your gaze on the exposed upper part of his chest and let your fingers toy with his collar. Mingyu lets you.

“But… roommate’s away for the night.” You tell him. And it’s true. Jungkook told you he has a date tonight and that usually means he won’t be going home.

And you want Mingyu so bad it’s not even funny anymore.

That puts a smile on your boyfriend’s face.

“She is, huh?”

Your heart skips a bit, and you give him a smile you hope he doesn’t recognize as fake.

Somehow, you don’t bother to correct him even though Jungkook – your very roommate – is most definitely not a she.

“And here goes my bedroom,” You say as you open your door, letting Mingyu in. You’re not really worried about its state because thank god you cleaned up before leaving for your date tonight. Jungkook’s the cleaner one though, and that’s an advantage because he’s kind of obsessed with cleaning the whole apartment and not just his room when he has the time. It’s exactly why Mingyu pays you a compliment on the neatness of the place.

“Cute,” he muses, looking at the Sanrio plushies on your nightstand.

“Yeah.” You nod, feeling a little shy. Mingyu’s place is the definition of bachelor – his bedroom’s literally out of an Architectural Digest page. And while you’re proud of your Sanrio plushie collection – they’re your childhood gifts and you’ve collected them until college and they were expensive as hell – you can’t help but think that maybe you’re coming off as childish right now. You wish you could’ve hidden them or something…

You hope Mingyu doesn’t think too much about it.

“I like the room,” Mingyu says, looking at you who’s sitting on the edge of your bed. “It feels very… you.”

“Really?” You chuckle. “I mean, I’d hope so. I’ve been here for two years.”

Mingyu chuckles, following you to the bed. You feel the mattress sinking in when he sits beside you.

“I wanted to give you something at the restaurant earlier, but I kinda chickened out,” He says.

You arch your brow. “What is it?”

You watch as Mingyu takes something out of his pocket, your heart skipping a few beats when it turns out to be a jewelry box. Mingyu looks at you and smiles, hands slowly opening the velvet box, and your lips part when it reveals a dainty silver necklace with a small drop diamond pendant.

“Wow.” You utter, eyes blinking repeatedly, not knowing how to react.

“Well…?” Mingyu says, gauging your reaction.

“You’re giving that to me?” You ask in pure disbelief. He only nods. “That’s really– it’s really pretty.”

“I thought about you when I picked it up. It made sense.” He says smoothly, and you giggle at his words.

God, you like him so much.

“I honestly don’t know what to say,” You chuckle, cupping your face with your hands as if it could make the blood go away from your cheeks. “Thank you.”

“I’d love to wear it on you.” Mingyu smiles.

“Of course.”

He takes out the necklace from the box and asks you to turn around for a bit. You do so, helping him put your hair over one shoulder. You can feel him scooting closer to your back, his breathing on your nape, and the way he slowly caresses your shoulder first before his arms go around your neck to lock the necklace around your nape.

The cold of the material hits your skin, just on time when you feel Mingyu planting a kiss on your clavicle.

“It’s really pretty.” You say in awe, touching the pendant.

“Hm,” Mingyu continues to pepper your skin with small kisses. “You’re beautiful.” You turn to look at him, smiling. He mirrors that and cups your jaw to give you a peck on the lips. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

You giggle when he squeezes your waist.

“Thank you.” you say in between your laughter. You hold his arms and stand up from the bed to place yourself in front of him. Mingyu looks up at you with one brow raised, but he’s quick to manspread when you begin to straddle his lap. As you situate yourself on top of him, you wrap your arms around his neck and let him run his hands across your body when you do so. “I really appreciate the necklace.”

“Yeah?” Mingyu whispers against your lips.

You hum, trailing your fingers down his collar then start to unbutton his shirt. When you get the few undone, you look Mingyu into his eyes and he meets your lips that crash into his in a few seconds.

You suppose it’s not exactly surprising that the kiss turns heated way too quickly. After all, you were both humping each other in his car earlier.

Sighing into the kiss, you tug at his hair, and it prompts his hands to squeeze your ass a little too tight. Mingyu breaks the kiss and there’s a barely noticeable string of saliva when your lips move away from each other. He trails kisses from your jaw down to the base of your neck, taking the straps of your dress down, hands beginning to rub your bare arms.

“So beautiful,” Mingyu sighs, lips travelling back to your own. He prods his tongue in your mouth that you gladly open for him. You let out a moan from the sensation of his tongue against yours, clutching his shoulders so hard you're sure you're gonna imprint your nails on his skin despite the shirt he still has on.

"Mingyu," you whisper, mouth ajar and gaping uselessly against his hair as his mouth leaves yours eventually to go down to your cleavage. His wandering fingers go around your back to fumble with the ribbons that are holding the dress, and you’re quick to help him tug it down completely until your chest is out for his full viewing.

Mingyu hisses at the lack of bra – except the nipple tapes – when the top of the dress comes off. He stops and stares, then takes a long and deep breath, as if the sight of your breasts intoxicated him; sighing as if he's long wished to see you like this.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you're so hot." He cups the swell of your chest in his two large palms, fondling them as you continue rolling your pelvis against his straining crotch area. He grazes the silicon material covering your nipples, looks up at you as if to ask.

“Y-yeah,” you sigh out, knowing what he meant with the look.

Taking them off gently, Mingyu earns a moan from you, the sound getting a bit louder when he puts one of the two peaks in his mouth, and the sight is nothing short of erotic.

It elicits a sharp breath from you, hands flying to his soft and brunette locks. You almost feel bad thinking that you've been grabbing at them since earlier.

But you have more important things to mind than attending to Mingyu’s silky and healthy hair.

You seek for his lips which he gives you almost automatically when he notices you asking for it, the two of you meeting in a hungry kiss, your nails on one hand clawing at his back as you cup his jaw in the other. But his hands don't leave your breasts, palming them roughly but just right; squeezing so hard all the while tugging at your nipples.

For a moment, you take a halt, catching your breath and look at him with your hooded eyes. You kiss the corner of his mouth. "Take your shirt off."

He does as you say so, and you help him unbutton the entirety of his dress shirt to get the thing off him faster. Mingyu lets go of your boobs but quickly holds them as soon as his shirt is off. This time he flicks at both your nipples, and you can’t help but bite at his neck. The pleasure’s too much and you can feel yourself dripping down your thong, the sticky feeling of it making you squirm on his lap.

As if Mingyu has read your mind, he grips your waist and sets you down on the bed. He hovers over you, fingers idly exploring under the skirt of your dress until he finds the band of your panties.

You groan when you feel the cold brush of air on your bare thighs, suddenly feeling impatient. "Mingyu,"

“You want me to eat you out?” He whispers, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

You almost cry at his question.

“Yes,”

Mingyu drags his fingers on your clothed core, groaning when he feels how soiled your thong is. "You're so fucking wet, sweetheart. Look at you," he sighs, hands leaving your pussy as he leans back and palms the strain of his pants. Your toes curl at the sight, uneven breaths puffing from your lips. "Look so sweet under me."  

And you're also a mess under him, writhing and completely getting lightheaded from his actions.

You let out a mewl when he pushes up the skirt of your dress to your hips, dragging down your underwear to your thighs.

Lifting your butt off the mattress, you help him get it off of you completely and you don't miss the way the flimsy thong sticks to your pussy before he takes it off you entirely. Mingyu seems to notice as well, judging from the way he hissed under his breath.

Your pussy is slick and sloppy, wet and dripping for him.

"So fucking pretty for me, god, I can’t believe I get to have you like this," he whispers against your throbbing heat, leaving a small kiss on your clit.

You arch your back when he uses his finger to run it through your slit, adding another one to spread your walls. Mingyu groans at the juices that stick to his digits.

As he adjusts himself on the mattress, hands gripping the back of your knees, you push them up until you're bended in almost half. You hold up your own legs, getting whiplashed when he licks a long, firm and deep stripe over you, making your eyes roll from the back of your head, breath hitching as you keep yourself steady in your own hold.

"Oh my god – Mingyu!–"

He starts slow, kissing around your labia, the tip of his tongue teasing your clit. Your head falls from the mountain of pillows under you, suddenly feeling frustrated.

"S-stop teasing me. Please, Mingyu,"

Ending your misery, he spreads your thighs, puckers his lips and dusts a few pecks over your bare heat and dives in for it seconds later with too much fervor. He savors every drop that oozes out from your hole, licking and lapping until you feel his tongue inside you. Mingyu could be spelling out his name for all it matters, but you really couldn't give a fuck.

"Oh, fuuuuck–" you groan, trying so hard to keep yourself steady. "S-so good,"

He hums in your pussy, and you don't help the way one of your legs drop to the mattress, the other one hooking on his shoulder. It makes you grab for his hair, pushing his head down and thrashing underneath his face.

It felt like minutes passed and you're almost crying by how good it all feels, his tongue doing wonders in the walls of your heat.

Soon, tears start to well in your eyes because of the pleasure, drawn out moans and heavy breaths filling the room. You couldn’t care less about the volume. Right now, you just want to cum.

"Your fingers, Mingyu,” You sigh out, and before you could even prepare yourself, he's inserting his middle finger inside you, pushing it in until it's knuckle-deep. "Oh god!"

“Yeah?”

He starts at an average pace until he adds another finger in your entrance, this time picking up his speed – and it makes you drip everywhere.

When he settles on scissoring his fingers inside you, moving at an abnormal pace that have you gasping under him, your body shake and your toes curl on the sheets. Mingyu swoops down to kiss your pussy again, two digits being repeatedly swallowed by your warm hole, slurping every juice that comes out of it. As he feels you tremble, the precedence of you nearing your climax, he takes his thumb to your clit.

"Oh, fuck, fuck," your pant, "I'm coming–fuck–“

Mingyu removes his fingers from you, exchanging them with his tongue instead and you cry out while he continues to rub your clit vigorously.

And when you arch your back higher this time, you spasm around his fingers, moaning uncontrollably.

“That’s it, sweetheart, that’s it,” Mingyu whispers, pecking your heat a few more times to calm you down from your high. After a few moments, he removes your thigh from his shoulder, quickly coming up to kiss you on the mouth.

You taste yourself on his tongue but you couldn’t pay much attention to it when you feel his dick against your thigh. Closing your eyes, you let exhaustion wash over you.

Mingyu lets you stay still, and when you open your eyes again, you see him staring at you with a warm smile dancing across his lips. Your heart skips a beat, could no longer feel it but hear it instead, and you bite your lip, pushing his chest away slightly in an attempt to get on top of him.

“Let me suck your cock.” You say, but Mingyu shakes his head, firm on his place: on top of you.

“Let’s do that next time. Tonight, I have to fuck you well into the next day.”

And he does.

You didn't cum again – you usually don't from penetrative sex – and your first orgasm exhausted you way too much to let yourself go the second time. Mingyu didn't mind, telling you it was fine when you gave him an apology about it.

You wake up panicking at the thought that you’re going to be late for work.

Scrambling to sit on your bed, you take your alarm clock in your hands, letting out a dramatic “Thank god” when you see it read as 5:06am. Your alarm goes off at 5:30 as your weekday shift starts at seven.

Which means it’s still early. And you’re not going to be late for work like you feared.

You remember last night’s events though, and your eyes quickly go over to the other side of your bed.

Mingyu’s not in it – but it feels warm. An indication of the fact that he stayed the night over after what you did. You also deduced that he must’ve only gotten out a few minutes before you woke up.

Thinking he’s outside your room, you begin to stand up – groaning the way your thighs ache a bit as you do so. You’re only dressed in your panties and camisole, and you thought about going out in them – but then it made you feel a little weird. Okay, sure, Mingyu’s already seen everything there is to see – you had sex last night – but being naked in a non-sexual fashion in front of someone is kind of a little different, so you opt on putting on a pair of short shorts.

As you head towards your door, fingers ready to twist the knob, you’re surprised to see Mingyu meeting you halfway.

“Hey—”

“Why the hell is Jungkook here?”

Your smile drops and you look at him in confusion.

Mingyu wears an expression you’ve never seen him in before. He’s pissed. Eyebrows furrowed, gaze not soft like it usually is when it comes to you, and above all… his tone borders on accusatory.

“Why is he in the living room saying he’s your roommate?” Mingyu asks once again when you don’t say anything.

“I—” but you’re rendered speechless, frozen in your position. Your mouth moves but nothing comes out. Your brain is a jumble of thoughts and all you can think about is Mingyu seemingly getting mad at you.

“__?” A voice that’s absolutely familiar speaks up. You hear Jungkook’s steps getting closer to your door when he finally shows himself to you. “What’s Mingyu doing here? And why doesn’t he know we live together?”

Mingyu forces himself inside your bedroom and bumps into you a bit as he faces you with a venomous tone. “I’m going.” He declares, grabbing his shirt from your desk chair and putting on his belt.

“Mingyu, it’s not—”

“Save it, __.” He cuts you off before you can finish your sentence, hastily buttoning up his dress shirt.

Jungkook frowns and butts in. “Mingyu, let her talk. I told you earlier, we’re roommates—”

“Jeon,” You turn to look at him, almost spitting out his name. “Not now.”

You see Jungkook visibly recoiling at that. But you’re too concerned over Mingyu already on his way out the door, ready to leave.

“Mingyu, just hear me out.” You say, looking at him sincerely.

“I don’t wanna hear it. Not right now.” Mingyu tells you with a cold look paired with a cold tone. You deflate, taken aback at how nothing on his face screams like he cares about you. He glances at his watch. “I have to go to work.”

He heads towards your apartment door and you follow him there, hoping to change his mind about hearing you out.

“I know what you’re thinking right now, and it’s not that, Gyu.” You tell him once again, following him outside your unit.

Mingyu stands there for a while. Then, he sighs, putting his thumb over his temple. He heaves out a breath, looking into your eyes as he says, “I just don’t want to talk about it right now, okay? Let’s just… let things cool down for a bit.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “How do you mean?”

“I’m flying to Chicago this afternoon but I’ll be back in the evening. I’ll call you later after work.” He says, and now his face doesn’t look so devoid of emotions like how it was earlier.

But you worry about his words.

“You’re flying to another state.” You reiterate, just so you know you heard him right.

“It’s just for a few hours, sweetheart,” The petname soothes you a little but then he continues to add, “Look, I’m not sure of how I feel about… Jungkook being your roommate. You didn’t tell me about it– just imagine my surprise when I saw him after I went out of your room. It’s not a nice feeling to get lied to,” He says, and you feel an arrow shooting straight to your heart at that. You blink your eyes, feeling like there are tears forming on the sides. Mingyu seems to notice that as he steps closer to you and rubs your arm. “We’ll talk later, __. Just not now. Give me time to process this.”

You give him a weak smile.

Mingyu cups your cheek, and you lean towards his touch. Rubbing a thumb over your skin, he leans down to kiss your lips.

When he breaks away after a quick moment, he tells you, “Later, hm? I promise.” You nod. Mingyu gives you a smile. “And thank you for last night.”

That erases your worry. Not all, but some of it.

“Thank you too.”

“Alright, I’m going, okay?” Mingyu lets go of your face and you look at him as he turns around after you bid your goodbye.

You watch his retreating back in the hallway from your position, nibbling on your bottom lip trying to process the turn of events – and it’s only five fucking am still.

When you enter your apartment again, you see Jungkook sitting on the couch of your living room. And he looks just as pissed when your gaze falls to him.

“What the hell was that?” He welcomes you with.

“What the hell is this?” You point back at him. “You told me you weren’t coming home.”

“Yeah, but I have work – which we both go to at the same time, by the way. Apparently, you’re bringing boys now to this goddamn place.”

You do a double take at his tone.

“What the fuck do you mean by that?” You say, voicing starting to pick up volume. You feel irritation bubbling up inside you as Jungkook stands up from the couch and turns his back to you, ignoring your question as he heads to the direction of the kitchen.

“I said we’re both gonna be late for work.”

You follow his steps. “No, you said I’m “bringing boys here”, what do you mean by that?” You grab his arm and that’s effective enough to make him turn around and look at you. But he avoids eye contact. “Don’t turn your back to me when I’m talking to you, Jungkook.”

“I’m so sorry then, I’ll make sure to look into your eyes when I say every word that comes out of my mouth from now on.” He sarcastically says, and your annoyance grows.

“Watch your goddamn tone.”

Jungkook scoffs. “You’re the one to talk about watching tones when you literally just told me to shut up in front of your boyfriend?”

Your frown instantly. So you were right to think that moved him a little. But you tell him your confusion, “Where the hell did you get that? I didn’t tell you to shut up.”

“Yeah, you just told me “not now” like I’m a child trying to insert himself in mommy and daddy’s little argument. You might as well just have told me to shut the fuck up.”

The way he phrased your argument with Mingyu “little” rubs you off the wrong way.

“Oh, I am so sorry,” you sarcastically say. “Did getting told to shut up by a woman in front of another man hurt your big macho man ego?” 

“You’re making it about another thing.” Jungkook rolls his eyes, opening the refrigerator and taking out a loaf of bread.

“You think I forgot about your little “bringing boys here” comment?” You point out, but Jungkook decides now is the time to be an asshole and starts acting nonchalant instead, putting jam all over his bread. But you see the tick in his jaw, the tongue prodding against his mouth. He’s just as pissed as you are right now.

“And you sure as hell did. I don’t know what to tell you.”

You seethe. “Fuck you. I don’t bring “boys” here. Mingyu’s my boyfriend,” You say, and to be petty, you add, “As if you’ve never ever brought girls here before?”

Jungkook looks at you instantly. “Don’t you dare pin that on me. That was in the very first week that we lived together, mind you. But you told me how uncomfortable it made you feel and I thought about boundaries since then and never did it again. Why do you think I come over at their place instead of just hanging out here, huh, __? Even when we didn’t verbally agree on not having sex around this place, I thought it would be a goddamn principle. Heck,” He looks somewhere and scoffs, “Mingyu didn’t even know I’m your roommate. What did you tell him?”

You open your mouth to make a rebuttal, but nothing comes.

Because you realize in the middle of his outburst that… he’s right.

The first time that you saw a woman coming out of his own room and Jungkook noticing your discomfort about it, he just stopped doing his… thing in the apartment. It wasn’t a verbal agreement, as per his words, but he’s right. It should have been a principle.

In the past two years you lived with each other – that was the only time he ever did it. It became an unspoken rule: don’t bring your hook-ups here. But you never really had to worry about that unspoken rule because you didn’t do one-night-stands often, and when you did hook up with people over the past two years, it was rare so it was easy to do it in their place.

It has become a norm for you that you don’t see other people here anymore except for your friends when they invite themselves over – but you aren’t aware that Jungkook’s apparently making an active choice to specifically not hook up in here this whole time.

Coupled with the fact that you didn’t tell Mingyu about him being your roommate and him being caught up with your argument earlier – you feel a sense of guilt. A huge one at that.

But the stubborn part in you thinks that Mingyu’s different. He’s not a mere hook-up. He’s your boyfriend now! Couldn’t that be an exemption to the rule that’s unspoken in the first place?

“I…” you trail off, scolding yourself internally for not forming a coherent thought faster than you’d like.

When you don’t follow it up with anything, Jungkook takes his plate with him, turning on his heels away from you.

“See you at work.” He says, but it’s sarcastic and clipped.

Jungkook leaves one piece of bread for you though – just like he always does. And you take that as a sign that he’s not all that mad at you.

… Maybe?

You stand there in the middle of your kitchen island like some stupid stoned individual, going over the things that happened for the past – what – twenty minutes? You don’t even fucking know. Your wall clock in the living room had run out of battery, and your brain is too occupied with messy thoughts scattered all around you can feel a headache coming.

One thing’s for sure, though: you’re in the wrong. With Mingyu and with Jungkook. And you need to make it right somehow.

PART TWO | PART THREE

all right reserved © awrkive, 2024. no reposts, modification, and copying allowed. if you enjoy my work and have the extra means, please consider supporting me on ko-fi <3

[byfulcrums]

been rewatching rtte

toothless is called T multiple times, but the letter T doesn't exist in the alphabet of this world

i think hiccup was also called H???

hiccup went to the wedding of the man who tried to kill him and his family multiple times. no wonder he thought he could change drago's mind

snotlout is canonically a theater kid

"you're so small and cuddly" "please never say that again"

the twins are really smart, but they're also just stupid

hiccup straight up disappears when he's working on something

heather had a super noticeable crush on astrid

fishlegs got a love interest!! a plus size main character actually has a cool, badass love interest!

it was super hetnormative but it was cute

there was an island full of flying women who were implied to regularly commit cannibalism

hiccup taught all the riders how to fly with toothless, that's so sweet

everyone is a flat earther except for the twins

hiccup almost directly killed a lot of people

and killed a LOT more when destroying their ships

“scalding– cal..ding--" "toothle, plama bla!" was pretty much the funniest part of the entire series

dagur was bullied as a kid by a guy 8 years older than him who literally tattooed an imagine of him beating up little dagur in his arm??? What was that all about

actually we need to talk about how messed up everything about dagur is and about how the things that could've/did happen(ed) to him may be the reasons why he's Like That

just why was he imprisoned by the outcasts??? he didn't do anything to them directly

oof my brain is spiraling. "he loved you" "ig now we'll never know" what do you mean he didn't know if his dad loved him

there's a technically musical episode

tuffnut became hiccup's defense attorney and immediately got him the death sentence

hiccup regularly jumps off cliffs

he also jumped off a boat, with his arms tied and without toothless. just where did he think he was going

snotlout's annoying attitude is actually because spitelout pressures him too much and he feels like he has to be perfect for his dad :((

THE 'HICCUP'S EVIL MIRROR' VILLAIN THEME DONE RIGHT YESS!!!

viggo is the best httyd villain change my mind (you can't, swords at sundown, you may bring backup but i will win on my own)

skrill comeback skrill comeback SKRILL COMEBACK!!!!

"COMEEE TO DADDY"

what is a boar pit???

oh my god i had missed this series so much. it has no right to be this funny

this was my childhood. it has forever shaped the way i am

berserker heather the unhinged >>>

actually good disability rep! yay

hiccup complains about his peg leg pinching him

he straight up cannot walk without it and it is shown many times

"well, there are the benefits of a metal leg" after it got caught in a bear trap

funny moments, like snotlout trying to steal it to use it as a weapon

the jokes!! toothless laughing at the jokes!!! hiccup being so fucking done with the twins, who are always making the jokes!

there's an episode where everyone is so sleep deprived they actually start spiraling

astrid becomes a happy go lucky girl, hugs snotlout and tells him he's handsome

the fucking mood swings snotlout got were insane

the twins were straight up just hallucinating

"i sent them to wash their dragons, how could they mess that up?" cut to heather falling on her face with a bucket full of water in her hands

fishlegs becomes so paranoid, he's yelling at everyone all the time

"don't you know the trapper's trap can trap the trapper?? ...oh gods, i must be losing it, i'm quoting dagur"

YOOOO VALKA!!!! it's so nice to see her

hiccup tried to murder dagur to stop him from getting to toothless, which is scary bc it shows just how far he's willing to go for his bff, but also funny because hiccup. that was not going to work

oh the hiccstrid slowburn, how i have missed you

the twins's made up language

there was a beach episode turned murder mystery and a musical episode held at gun point

hiccup has a whole little speech that he periodically gives astrid to remind her that the twins serve a purpose

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: GUILTY CONSCIENCE

✩ ‧ ˚. serial killer!au: ever since that first night, you can't get him off your mind—and even though you handed him over to law enforcement, it looks like he still wants you too. PART 1 | NSFW

contents: fem!reader. porn with plot, dubcon, semi-public sex (in a bathroom), oral (m. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), pet names (detective, princess, smart girl, pretty girl, etc.), gojo cums in your mouth. non-sexual threatening. non-sexual usage of knives/guns. more plot than porn. this is not good for you btw !!! 4K words.

author's note: pls appreciate your smut writers bc this shit is hard !!!! the sk!series might be over after this one bc i'm not feeling it anymore, but nothing's set in stone yet. posting this for the ppl who wanted a part two, but personally i would've just left it as a standalone.. oh well, i didn't want 4K words to go to waste, so enjoy 🤍

“satoru gojo, what are we going to do with you?” your subordinate asks, resting his hands on the table dividing the dim interrogation room in two. you and your coworker sit on one side, facing the serial killer on the other side—who also happens to be the man you fucked in an alley two weeks ago.

ever since that first encounter, you haven’t been able to get his face out of your mind. at work, his ice blue eyes haunted your every move. at home, he was all you could picture as your mind strayed back to your time beneath him. and now, as you and your boss interrogate him, all you can think about is how good satoru’s hands felt roaming over your skin when you cornered him—or, more accurately, when he cornered you.

“i dunno,” satoru replies, leaning back in his chair and resting his hands behind his head. he grins shamelessly, looking you up and down with interest. “so, pretty girl, how’ve you been since we last met?”

you slip your hands into your pockets to stop yourself from doing something you’ll regret and ignore the curious look your coworker gives you. “this meeting isn’t about me. this is about the people you killed and the punishment you’re about to get,” you answer through gritted teeth.

satoru laughs, eyes locking with yours and seeing right through you. “that’s funny. so, who’s this shrimpy guy next to you? your boyfriend?” he jeers, grinning unnervingly at your coworker. you shoot your subordinate an apologetic look, which he responds to with a nod.

“i’m her boss, actually,” he clarifies, running a hand through his blonde hair and narrowing his eyes. “kento nanami. and i’ve been referred to as a lot of things, but shrimpy is a first.” satoru makes a face and laughs, as if he’s amused by the whole scene. 

“really? i’m surprised,” satoru replies easily. “i mean, whatever. i’ve seen better looking officers… like the one next to you.” he looks back at you, a careless smile still dancing on his lips. kento frowns and looks back and forth from you to satoru, and you force yourself to maintain a poker face in order to detract any suspicion.

“do you two know each other?” kento asks, crossing his arms. satoru starts laughing again, to which you roll your eyes. even if satoru were to tell kento what you hadn’t—that you two had fucked when you were supposed to be arresting him—you doubted that kento would believe him. after all, what’s the word of an obnoxious criminal compared to yours?

you shake your head and ignore satoru. “i’m the one who’s been leading the investigation on him for the past couple months,” you answer. kento meets your eyes and cocks an eyebrow, so you continue, “we met two weeks ago. i cornered him, but he escaped—”

“she let me,” satoru interjects, clearly enjoying the death glare you shoot at him a second later.

“you held a gun to my forehead,” you remind him pointedly, tapping the spot on your head where you vividly remember the cold metal resting against. 

“yeah, but i kissed it aft—”

“we’re getting off-topic,” kento interrupts, shooting you a warning glance. “detective, i’ll handle the interrogation from here.”

you hesitate, not liking how smug satoru’s expression is—but, seeing as you don’t have a choice, you dip your head in assent and exit the room. 

now that satoru’s been caught and is now in the grasp of the law, you don’t really have anything to do for the rest of the day. he was your case, and now, it looks like it’s closed, especially if your boss is the one interrogating him.

kento nanami has a reputation among law enforcement—he’s known as the stoic, serious man with a perfect record. there hasn’t been a single criminal he’s interrogated that hasn’t cracked, although the knot in your stomach tells you that this might be the first.

a sharp knock sounds on your office door, summoning you back from your train of thought. “it’s open,” you call, holding a piping hot coffee with both hands. kento opens the door and steps inside, eyebrows unusually tensed. his hands are balled into fists, too, in stark contrast to his characteristically calm demeanor. 

“something wrong?” you ask tentatively, studying your boss’s troubled eyes.

kento takes a seat in the leather chair in the corner of your office and rests his elbow on the armrest, rubbing his temples. “detective, be honest with me. what happened the night you were supposed to arrest satoru gojo?”

for the first time since satoru pinned you to the wall of a darkened alley, your heart drops. kento’s knowing eyes watch your every move, from the subtle twitch in your eye to the way your fingers tense around the cup of coffee. “what do you mean?” you ask carefully, surprised at how steady your own voice is.

“detective, don’t play games with me,” kento asserts calmly, hand casually drifting towards the side of his waist. you know him well enough to know what he’s reaching for—the same instrument that another man pressed against your forehead just two weeks ago.

despite your mind being clouded with fear and uncertainty, you manage to rationalize your way through the situation. what proof could your boss possibly have besides the word of a criminal? 

it’s your word against his—and you both know whose word kento’ll believe.

“that night, he threatened to kill me,” you start, repeating the story you told the authorities when they came ten minutes too late to catch satoru. “and he must’ve drugged me or knocked me unconscious because next thing i knew, he was gone.” your confidence grows with every word, and you start nodding as if you believe your own lies.

kento’s eyes narrow, and you force yourself to hold your poker face as he scrutinizes you and your words. three long, painful seconds of silence pass before his hand moves away from the holster strapped to his waist, and you internally sigh in relief. he stands without a word and makes to exit the room, but before he does, you risk it all. “why do you ask, sir?”

your boss pauses and turns back to you, eyebrows lifting in mild interest. he doesn’t answer immediately, and you tentatively ask, “...what did he tell you?”

kento exhales a soft huff of air, a look of dread in his brown eyes. “detective, for your own peace of mind, i assure you that you don’t want to know.”

well, fuck.

“i trust your judgement, then,” you reply, feeling your poker face start to slip away. you lift your now-cold cup of coffee to your lips and take a sip, attempting to hide the grimace that threatens to make an appearance. “have a good night, boss.”

“you too, detective. stay safe.”

“i’ll do my best.”

kento nods and heads out, and through your open window you watch him tell another one of your coworkers about how he’s planning on heading out early to make bread for his family, a gentle smile on his lips. eventually, he waves bye and exits the building.

you finish off your coffee and stand up, fishing out your key card from your pocket. you figure that you should head to the bathroom before you go home, just in case. a couple of your coworkers congratulate you when you come out of your office, praising you on the capture of your suspect. you take their compliments with a smile, ultimately wishing them a good night and escaping to the bathroom.

the door clicks shut behind you, and the comfortable quiet eases you at once. but before you can even appreciate the silence of the confined room, a sultry, familiar voice interrupts your thoughts. “aw, you weren’t gonna say bye before you left?”

you turn and your mouth drops open—standing before you, in the flesh, is the criminal you swore you last saw handcuffed to a chair.

“what the fu—”

satoru reaches out and grabs your wrist before you can scurry away or grab your phone. he pulls you into his chest, and you can feel his heartbeat against your back—at least, that’s what you notice before he clamps his hand over your mouth to stifle your yells.

“shut it,” satoru hisses, breath hot against the side of your face. he turns you towards the mirror of the bathroom so you can see how he’s holding you—one hand over your mouth, and one wrapped around your waist. “don’t try anything clever, sweetheart. i wouldn’t wanna have to hurt that pretty face of yours.”

you turn your head and glare at him furiously, cussing like a sailor against his hand. you eventually try to bite it, but your meager attack is essentially useless against his iron grip. satoru raises his eyebrows sternly and hushes you again, ice-blue eyes boring into your own. 

“i’ll answer your questions, honey, but be careful,” he pauses and nods at his pocket, where the handle of what appears to be a knife—how the fuck did he get his hands on a knife?—pokes out of the cloth. “okay, i’m gonna take my hand off your mouth now,” he murmurs, purposefully lowering his voice.

true to his word, satoru removes his hand from your mouth. you take a long breath and hesitate—again, there’s not much you can do in this situation but play along. if he’s telling the truth, you can ask questions and he can answer them, so you try your hand at getting some information and biding time. someone would have to walk in the bathroom eventually, right?

“by the way,” satoru starts, a grin curving the corners of his lips upward. “nobody’s gonna come save you, princess. the door’s locked from the inside.” he also removes his hand from your waist, letting you take a step back.

“how?” you ask suspiciously, unsure if he’s telling the truth or not.

satoru laughs—his hair falls into his eyes, and immediately shakes it away with a huff of breath. “i’m good with my hands. but you already know that, don’t ya?”

you back away towards the other side of the bathroom, where sinks line the quartz countertop. “why aren’t you still in the interrogation room?”

“you think you’re the only girl i can convince to let me go?” satoru tuts, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. he reaches into his pocket—not the one with the knife—and extracts a badge of some sort. satoru flicks it at you, and you catch it in midair. to your surprise, it’s the badge of one of your superiors who was supposed to be keeping an eye on satoru. the coy smile on satoru’s face confirms what you’re thinking, and his nod seals it the next second. 

“okay,” you say carefully, drawing out the word for a couple seconds. “how long have you been waiting here?”

“long enough,” satoru answers vaguely, not bothering to elaborate.

“thanks a lot,” you deadpan.

“nice to see that you’re still feisty—”

“and what the hell did you tell my boss?” you interrupt, suddenly remembering the dread-filled way kento had looked at you. the way your voice rises is unexpected enough to force satoru to involuntarily take a step back. it’s not much, but the step you take forward a second later to assert your position brings you a small feeling of satisfaction. after all, he’s only human—and all humans get surprised by loud noises.

satoru holds up his hands in mock surrender and eyes you skeptically. “you’re really worried about your boss’s approval, aren’t you?” he asks dryly, white hair falling into his eyes again. “heh, desperate much?”

you roll your eyes and curl your hands into fists—unfortunately, your action only seems to amuse satoru, but you ignore the little “aw” he coos and continue glaring at him. “answer the fucking question, satoru.”

“language,” he snorts. a second later, satoru cocks his head and thinks for a moment, and when his eyes land on you again he asks, “so, you’re still callin’ me satoru? cute.”

your face involuntarily heats up, and even though you’re sure satoru can tell, you pretend not to notice—again. “answer the question or i’ll scream.”

“you wouldn’t dare.”

“wouldn’t i?”

you don’t get the chance to fufill your threat, because satoru sees that you’re serious a second too early—everything’s a blur as he grabs your wrists and bunches them into one hand, firmly securing your hands behind your back. his chest rests on top of your back as he folds you over the bathroom counter, and his reflection leers at you from the mirror. “nice try, baby. but remember, you’re dealin’ with a world-class serial killer.”

“world-class? how humble of you,” you snap irritably, craning your neck to glare at satoru out of the corner of your eye. “you asshole, get off me or i’ll—”

satoru interrupts you by prodding at your lips with two of his fingers, forcing your mouth open and slipping them inside. you instantly attempt to bite him, but his fingers are so long that they trigger your gag reflex instead. “missed me, detective?” satoru coos, curling his fingers downwards and pressing on your tongue. a little whine involuntarily slips out of your lips, and satoru takes that as a yes. “yeah, i can tell,” he continues, studying your heated face in the reflection of the mirror. “i bet you couldn’t stop thinkin’ about me since that night, yeah?”

he doesn’t bother waiting for a response before he extracts his fingers and leaves you gasping for breath. you watch as satoru lifts his now-soaked fingers to his lips and runs his tongue over them, ice-blue eyes boring into your own. it’s disgusting, filthy even, but that doesn’t stop your thighs from clenching together in a futile attempt to hide your arousal from him.

“y’know, i think you’re wearing too many clothes,” satoru sighs, resting his chin on top of your head and smiling coyly. “wanna fix that for me?”

“do i have a choice?”

“no.” satoru pushes himself off of you and gives you enough space to start removing your clothes without his smothering presence. the idea of running away or screaming crosses your mind, but the serial killer’s smile makes you certain that you’d regret it—and that’s even disregarding the knife that’s still shining at you from his pocket. 

seeing as you don’t really have any other option, you slowly shrug off your coat and let it slide down your body and onto the floor. your collared shirt comes off next, followed by your pants, until there’s hardly anything shielding you from satoru’s hungry eyes. the feeling stirring in the pit of your stomach is hard to describe—it’s something like a mix between longing and fear, two emotions you hadn’t felt since that night.

and maybe, even though every instinct you have insists that this is the last thing you should be finding pleasure in, you want to feel that way again.

“you really coulda been anything in the world with that body,” satoru sighs, leaning back against a wall and taking his sweet time looking you up and down. his eyes narrow slyly as he watches you shrink away from him instinctually, and the next thing you know, he’s on you again, hands tracing over your skin and lips unbearably close to yours. “although, i guess it’s a good thing you’re a detective, ‘cause i wouldn’t have met you if you weren’t.”

you shouldn’t be agreeing with him, and as he lifts you up onto the counter, you also know that you shouldn’t be letting him do this. it goes against everything you swore to protect when you joined law enforcement, and if this ever got out—no, when it got out, you’d be the pariah of the city.

but even after thinking it through, one, two, maybe even three times, you can’t find it in your heart to care about much else than the hands pushing apart your thighs and slipping inside your shamelessly wet cunt.

“heh, how long has it been since we last did this?” satoru coos, eyes glazing over with a mixture of lust and adoration. his face is redder than you’ve ever seen it—the blush spreads all the way up to the tips of his ears, and it’s even more prominent underneath the overhead lights as he eyes you. “two weeks, right? feels like it’s been twenty.”

“do you ever shut up?” you mutter sourly, averting your eyes from satoru’s. he responds by curling up the two fingers he has inside your cunt, a mean little smile on his lips. 

“careful with that mouth of yours,” satoru warns, pushing his fingers in farther until he’s practically knuckle-deep inside of you. his thumb rests firmly against your clit, toying with the sensitive skin. “it’ll get you in trouble one day, pretty girl…” satoru withdraws his fingers in one swift motion with a soft, wet pop. he lifts his hand to his lips and licks off your slick, swiping his tongue over his fingers a couple times with a smile. “y’know what? i’ll let you go if you can do one thing for me, ‘kay?”

he waits for your response, raising an eyebrow patiently for you to catch your breath. it almost feels like deja vu, or some cheesy movie from the 90’s: the pretty little detective getting fucked by the big bad serial killer, and you know how these films always ended—not pretty.

“what?” you ask halfheartedly, expecting him to ask you to do something like erase him from the police records or sabotage the investigation. satoru cups your face with both hands, leaning in close enough for his lips to brush against yours, and his smile is almost mocking when he replies.

“suck my dick.”

part of you wants to ask “that’s it?”, but the glimmer in satoru’s knowing eyes makes you certain that he won’t make this easy for you. 

“what if i say no?” you ask tentatively. it’s a stupid question—now you’re just playing russian roulette with his rationality, and either way, you already know your decision.

the past two weeks have been torture. every waking moment of yours was spent thinking about the man you fucked, and every time you thought of his carefree smile and feather-light touch, you just felt guilty for wanting more. after all, when you first became a detective, you swore to prioritize your job and not make any personal relationships with your subjects. and yet, here you were, almost too eager to get on your knees for the serial killer who you swore to incapacitate. 

satoru shrugs nonchalantly in response to your question and not-so-subtly shoots a furtive glance at his pocket, where the handle of his knife still pokes out. “you’re a smart girl. i think you can guess, yeah?”

and that’s how you ended up with your lips wrapped around satoru’s dick for the seventh time (if you include every fantasy you’ve had about giving him head). it’s almost funny how he switches up the second you run your tongue over his blushing pink tip—his face goes red, all the way up to his ears, and the little breathy moans that slip out of his lips would be adorable in any other context but this.

“f-fuck, wasn’t expecting you to be this good,” he manages to mutter through gritted teeth, eyes fluttering open and shut. “where’d you learn to suck dick like this, heh—”

it’s been.. a while since satoru first helped you get on your knees in front of him and unzipped his pants, and even though it could’ve just been a couple minutes, it feels like this is all you’ve ever known. satoru’s ice blue eyes have barely moved from you since you started, and it looks like it’ll stay like that until you finish—or, more accurately, until he finishes.

satoru’s foot bounces on the floor as you lick a long stripe from the tip of his dick to the top of it, and the way his nails dig into his palm makes you absolutely certain that he’s close to cumming down your throat. “shit, don’t— don’t stop,” he chokes out, threading his fingers through your hair and involuntarily pushing down your head. “fuck—”

when satoru finally cums, it’s pitifully obvious—actually, it’s almost embarrassing. last time, you were the one in shambles when he was done with you, but now, it looks like it’s the other way around. his eyes flicker as they almost roll back from the sheer pleasure of you sucking him dry, and when satoru’s cum shoots out of his painfully hard dick, it’s a hot mess that leaks out of your mouth and down your chin. 

“y-yeah, good girl,” he murmurs shakily, reaching down and swiping his thumb over your cum-soaked, swollen lips. you lick off the thick, viscous liquid from his fingers instinctually, a dazed little smile on your face as you watch satoru tilt his head back towards the ceiling.

it’s interesting, seeing the city’s infamous serial killer like this. he’s leaning back against the white tile of the bathroom walls, chest heaving from his orgasm, and in that moment, you realize that his attention is on everything else but you. 

so, naturally, you stab him in the back.

not literally—that’d be a pain for your office’s custodian to clean up, but you extract the knife from satoru’s discarded pants and, before he can register the sharp object in your shaky hand, you press it to his blush-red throat. 

satoru’s hazy eyes widen in disbelief as he realizes what’s going on before they narrow in what looks almost like a mix between anger and shock. it’s stupid, foolish, and almost naive, but somewhere in your chest, it feels like a dagger pokes at your softened heart when you categorize the look in his eyes as betrayal. which is, by all accounts, entirely unreasonable—did he seriously think you wouldn’t take advantage of him like this?

at the end of the day, no matter how good the dick was, you weren’t about to sacrifice your well-paying job for a man on the run from the law.

“what the fuck?” satoru snaps, hand twitching in a movement to throw you off of him, but thankfully, the sudden shift in atmosphere heightened your instincts to a point where nothing could possibly catch you off-guard. you dig in the knife a millimeter deeper into his throat, avoiding eye contact with the man you just made cum with your mouth. “are you—”

“yeah, i am,” you assert, biding time. as much as you’d like to pretend that you’re completely in control of the situation, there’s only so long that you can hold up this stalemate. satoru’s stronger than you physically, and the second he figures out a way to handle the knife pressed to his neck, he’d get his revenge.

satoru comes to this conclusion about as fast as you did, and his lips curve upwards in a jeering smile. the look in his eyes is borderline insane when he snarls, “nobody’s gonna rescue you from me, princess. just you wait—”

and, with perfect comedic timing, the bathroom door opens, and one of your female co-workers steps in. you’ve never talked to her much, but thankfully, her instincts are even faster than yours.

what happens next goes by in a haze. your co-worker holds a gun to the side satoru’s head, and calls for backup. then, a handful of sleepy-eyed police officers haul away a cursing and fighting satoru to who-knows-where.

but just before he’s out of sight, satoru shoots you an unsettlingly calm look. and as if that wasn’t concerning enough, the last words he mouths to you are “this isn’t over.”

[syoddeye]

consequence / shopping

price x f!reader | 1.5k words series directory tags: stalking mention, white lies, jp fears no 'friend zone', entitled cats a/n: john price vs. his feelings. john price vs. old man allegations. john price vs. his barista . ☕

john’s grip tightens on the wheel as he turns onto her street. he’s imagined this moment since he set her in his sight. possessing the patience of a sniper comes in handy with endeavors such as this, and it’s good to pull a trigger that isn’t lethal for once.

she’s waiting outside. good girl.

nose-deep in her phone, she doesn’t notice him until he’s a building away. his heart jumps into his throat when her eyes lift, and her face follows. she squints, then shades her eyes with a hand. a smile breaks the mild confusion, and she rises to her feet from the steps outside her door.

he forces himself to relax, painfully aware of the intensity of his gaze. he can’t risk running her off, but he has to see it—the moment of realization.

~~

it cannot be the same car. calm down, you order yourself, plastering a small smile on your face as john rolls to a stop, grinning back through the window. it’s statistically impossible. there are thousands of cars in town, plenty of the same make and model. this is just the universe’s idea of a cruel joke: giving your favorite customer the same car you smashed your face and arm into. your good hand shakes as you open the door and sink into the passenger seat.

coincidences happen.

~~

“hey.”

“afternoon. you look nice.”

“yeah? i was worried you wouldn’t recognize me without the apron.” she says wryly, draping her bags over her lap.

i’ve memorized your face and more. which one would think would help decipher the minutiae of her expressions. does she recognize the car? remember it? she was drunk and crashed hard enough to break bone—fuck, he hadn’t thought of the effects of the impact. too caught up.

he watches her buckle, eyes falling to her cast. it’s filling with signatures fast. the space that held his number is covered in a drawing of a cat. all that remains is ‘john’. 

“did you draw over my number?”

“i didn’t think you’d want the free advertising.”

smart girl. the number isn’t traceable further than falsified records, but it's best to avoid nuisance. he lets the doodle eclipse his grand scheme and pretends to adjust the mirror. he’ll wait until the time is right. “that i don’t.”

the drive to her preferred market is ten minutes by car. she might’ve managed alone, but he’s done some of his best work in ten minutes. performed miracles and misdeeds. he spends this bit on recon.

he susses out a little more information about her life: she’s worked, on and off, as a barista for nearly a decade. she recently took in a kitten, the very one depicted on her arm, and named her chicken cutlet a tortoiseshell.

“it's all i had for food. now cece’s a snob.”

“points for uniqueness.” he grins and gestures at the doodle on her arm. though he doesn’t have much of an eye for art, it’s obviously stylized. “and creativity. bet you did her justice, like a regular artist.”

the comment, meant as a compliment, makes her wince. she ducks her head in poorly concealed shame, pretending to check something in her wallet. it comes out casually, like a weather report—she dropped out of an mfa program to move here, for the ex, a year ago.

the details resurrect his anger. 

the tremble in her hand tells him to leave it. he will. for now.

the car park is packed, and it’s all he can do to not celebrate when he finds a space on the first go. he cannot be much older than her, but he’d rather avoid feeding the ‘old man’ reputation his sergeants encourage.

she separates her reusable bags as they climb out of the car. “do you have any pets?”

he circles to her side and takes them without asking, “no. afraid my schedule doesn’t allow for it.”

“oh.” 

he beats her to the baskets, tossing her bags into the bottom, and she strolls past him. he traipses behind, head on a subtle swivel, inwardly tickled at how normal it feels. it’s not often he shops, let alone in the company of a bird. it makes him puff up. go a bit softer in the face, especially when a woman roughly his mother’s age gives them a long, wistful look in produce.

it’s nice playing house, even in the middle of a bustling supermarket, dodging the less spatially aware and rogue children. it strokes his ego to flex an arm over her head to reach the shelves she can’t and carry a bag of cat litter in the other. he cracks a joke about tinned fish, and though she doesn’t laugh, he can tell she wants to. how she ignores his suggestions and color commentary on other shoppers. it’s fascinating to watch her, all business, as if she were behind the coffee bar. tapping items off the list on her phone, triple-checking a recipe.

while she’s distracted, slowly loading the conveyor belt one item at a time, john pushes his luck. he slips his card and pays.

her focus breaks when she sidles up, reaching for her wallet, only for the cashier to offer the receipt. she takes it, confusion turning to understanding, and her jaw clenches. her thanks are muttered, and she promptly joins him in bagging what’s left.

he knows she’s upset before she speaks, practically punching items into the bag.

“please don’t do that again.” she whispers. “my wrist is broken. i am not broke.”

angry as she is, she sails out the doors without waiting. clearly expecting him to tote her bags like a porter and follow.

which he does, of course. it’s what he signed on for.

good view, at least.

the ride back to her place is quiet, but he feels the tension burning away with the light. it’s damn distracting how the sun plays off her skin and hair. ten minutes fly by. she turns to him as the car idles, a storm of thoughts in her eyes. severe, tempestuous, and pretty.

“park. you’re not off the clock.”

“yes, ma’am.”

the bag handles loop into one fist, and the litter rests on his shoulder. he beams, and with the complete confidence he usually carries himself, he starts up the steps of her building.

“uh…john?” 

he glances over his shoulder and sees her fidgeting at the bottom of the stairs.

“that’s…not actually my address.”

his brows raise, fall, and pinch in rapid succession. the minx. a fake address. smart.

she sheepishly apologizes on the walk to one street over and explains. 

“i mean, this part’s weird.” 

“what part?”

“befriending regulars,” she shrugs. “the counter’s there for a reason—to sling espresso, yeah, but it’s also a social barrier.”

“do you often befriend regulars?” he hopes not.

“god, no.”

thank christ. he’ll start memorizing faces on his next trip, just in case.

“but being polite to people is part of my job.”

he cracks a careful grin. “do you get reprimanded for that?”

her eyes roll. “ha. ha. no. my manager’s a coward and afraid of me. what i mean is, it’s a tightrope. be nice, but don’t be too nice to the wrong people, else they’ll stalk you or something.”

john’s gut tightens. what was his plan again? expose her? he manages a chuckle. “and am i one of those…wrong people?” effortless.

“well, you’re a minute from my kitchen with an invitation. so.” she smirks after a second. “are you fishing for a compliment? for me to say you’re special?”

heat shoots up his neck and colors his cheeks. “i am not–”

“relax. i’m joking. but you are the first customer i’ve brought back to my place.”

the phrasing instantly sets him on high alert. it could mean nothing. it could mean anything.

her place is markedly worse than her fake one. he does not like the look of the neighbors, but the exterior light reaches the walk. he bites his tongue when she veers to the side, cutting down a set of steep stairs to the basement. it won’t do, not long-term.

but the interior of her flat—it’s everything he did and did not expect. 

it’s sensibly furnished and lit to compensate for its floor plan and limited windows. it’s cozy and colorful, with artwork fixed to the walls and littering various surfaces. some pieces are more notable than others: tiny statuettes of women, a diptych of a cow, and a collage of what looks like found notes. in the living area, there is a console and a headset, a small collection of games and dvds, and ten too many knickknacks. a stuffed backpack occupies a seat at the table.

he moves mechanically behind her, toeing off his shoes and treading straight into the surprisingly decently sized kitchen. he sets the bags and litter down, rolling his shoulder as he soaks it all in.

might be his only chance, after all.

something bumps his shin. two big amber-colored eyes stare up at him, unblinking.

“you must be the famous cece.” 

“the one and only.”

the young cat weaves through his legs, then jumps, immediately sticking her pointy head into the bag containing the chicken. she meows, indignant, when her human automatically hooks her around the middle without looking and returns her to the floor.

“bad.” she murmurs, unpacking. “would you mind setting the litter next to the door down the hall?”  

john obeys, though he lingers outside of said door, staring through a crack into the dark of her room. she has a big, comfortable-looking bed. a shudder passes over him. an unhelpful throb. christ. feels like a fucking teenager. he pulls himself together, retreating toward the door to leave. probably overstayed his welcome.

just as he turns to say his goodbyes, she glares from the kitchen. around her neck, untied, hangs an apron—don’t be afraid to take whisks.

“where are you going? i’m making dinner.”

it’s not an invitation. it’s an order.

he slips his shoe off.

“yes, ma’am.”

[sluttsumu]

DOUBLE TROUBLE

.ೃ࿐ feat. atsumu + osamu miya

in which: the twins have a little bet, and you’re their next target. who can make you cum the most on halloween night without anyone knowing, keep quiet virgin or you’ll get caught.

warning: 18+, college!au, fratboy!inarizaki, oblivious!reader, non+ dubcon/peer pressure, threesome, corruptive thoughts, misogyny (?), manipulation, drugs (molly), vaginal fingering, vaginal penetration, unprotected, petname: angel, oral (f!receiving + m!receiving), virginity loss, exhibitionism + voyeurism, implied orgy (with suna), sunaosa TEASE, they’re sleazy hoes. wc: 2k

ೃ࿐ ki’s note: this is fic was supposed to kickstart my kinktober series. i hope you love this as much as i do because i had the best time writing it! in my mind it’s still october 😭 divider: @cafekitsune

two devils, one angel, and fate. being a virgin sacrifice wasn’t necessarily on your halloween bucket list for this year.

— ♡︎ —

“can’t think of anyone to bring ‘samu ?” atsumu piqued, osamu is supposed to be the smart one.

the infamous twins had been thinking for some time on who to invite to their annual halloween party.

there were plenty of guests, but they needed someone special for the night.

atsumu’s fucked half of the bimbos from his fan club, meanwhile osamu was never satisfied with any of his groupies.

“well,” he starts. “i have an idea.” the light bulb in his head flickered before finally going off when he thought of the perfect girl. the dainty little college freshman whom he sees walking around campus all dolled up.

“who’s that girl that we always see with sunarin?” he ponders, in attempt to remember your name. atsumu’s eyes lit up when he realized. he knew exactly who his brother was talking about.

osamu really was a genius.

“y/n..” his tone was unsure, but curious nonetheless. osamu shot a finger gun “bingo.” indicating that his atsumu was right on the money. they paused, staring at one another as if they were reading each others minds. twin telepathy surely was a blessing. if they were both thinking correctly it seems like they’ve got a target.

*incoming facetime from; suna rintaro*

“yes suna?” you answer holding the phone above your face. “what’re you doing tomorrow?” the abrupt question never threw you off anymore, it was common for suna taking you on all kinda of spontaneous adventures on and off campus.

“ ‘m not doing anything, gonna watch horror movies and eat candy.” suna eyed you feigning disgust, what lame plans. “absolutely not..” he scoffs, “the twins invited you to their party tomorrow and you’re going.” the miya twins were mutual friends and have been known to throw some awesome ragers from time to time, how could you decline such an offer?

“i don’t have a costume???” honestly you were trying to find any excuse possible to lessen your chances of coming home wasted on halloween night. but suna had a solution to everything, even this. “wear white, i’ll sort out the rest.” he hung up after the condescending message, leaving you to piece together his surprise.

white, the colour of purity and innocence. nothing is innocent about a college party, especially because,

halloween was the one night a year a girl could dress like a total slut, and no one could say anything about it.

a firm knock was set on your dorm room door. “let’s go” his eyes fixated as you opened the door. suna mildly regrets not taking up the twins’ offer to join them on their escapade tonight, especially with the way that dress hugs your body. he quickly releases himself from the dirty thoughts.

“okay, what’s my costume? you said wear white.” suna’s hand rises from his side revealing a halo. makes sense why he told you to wear white now. it wasn’t until you took in his costume that really made you understand his choice.

he’s dressed in a red button up, except the buttons weren’t being used at all. the devil horns stuck in his hair confirmed the unoriginal costume idea. a few days back he mentioned matching costumes with the rest of his fraternity, and if you had to see the rest of them like this, than you were sure that attending this party was worth it.

the house was loud, as much as it was crowded, suna’s hand around your wrist is the only thing preventing you from getting caught in the ocean of people.

“sunarin! we’re over here.” pi kappa alpha (ΠΚΑ) was one of seven frats at your university, and was definitely the hottest. pretty, rich boys with the world at their disposal. everyone knew this but that never stopped girls from clinging onto them, after all osamu’s arms and atsumu’s abs— focus!

“ah, you made it.” osamu exclaimed opening his arms for a particularly tight hug. you hugged all of them, each cologne scent different from the last. “mind if we steal rin for a minute? won’t be long, promise.” atsumu’s tone of voice couldn’t have been more condescending, talking to you so sweet and saccharin. you nodded, shooting the quintet a small smile, before going to find a drink.

“an angel, cute.” atsumu watched your back was you walked away into a crowd of people. all that clouded his thoughts were all the things he wanted to do to you throughout the night. “get yer head intha game. what are the rules?” osamu chuckled, it was no doubt that he was having the same thoughts as his brother. that’s for sure.

“ ‘ts 10:30, whoever can make her cum the most before midnight first wins. unless you fuck her that is.. she’s a virgin so if you manage to to take her virginity you automatically win. get caught and you have to restart.” the night is young and the rules were set, but there was one question unanswered, whats the prize for a game such as this?

money of course. sex and money have been interchangeable for as long as mankind can remember, no difference here. a thousand dollars put up by each member, totalling to five thousand. winner takes all, loser gets nothing. may the best twin win.

atsumu wasted no time following you to the kitchen hearing the laughs from his friends behind. unfortunate for him bokuto caught your attention a little too quickly. he watched the two of you laugh and introduce yourselves to one another. it wouldn’t go on for much longer, not if atsumu could help it.

“bo-kun! do me a favor would’ya?” he said, slinging an arm over your shoulder. “get some more ice for the cooler, ‘ts intha basement.”

in boy world, this was a territorial interaction meaning; get the fuck out of here.

meanwhile in girl world, you didn’t think anything of it.

bokuto cheerfully agreed uttering “nice meeting you!” before sliding past the crowd of people to go fetch that ice.

“cute costume miya.” you look up to see him above your shoulder. he unhooks his arm from your side, leaning up against the counter. “not too bad yourself. you look,” he pauses for a mere few seconds. thoughts of you and how innocent you look plagued his mind, costume doesn’t help either. something in him was excited to taint that, you’d look so much prettier with your makeup smudged and begging him to make you cum, he thought.

“pretty,” he smiled, eyes shifting around your lips, and neck then back to your eyes. “you look really fucking pretty.”

“nights still young, you like games?” you tilted your head at the question. a suspicious question but how could anyone say no to him. “dependsss..” you drag out the word, tone laced with hesitation. this was all one big game, that you unfortunately didn’t know you were apart of, throwing another in the mix couldn’t hurt.

“how do ya feel about suck and blow?”

—♡︎—

suna forcefully offered up kita’s amex for the game, safe to say that he’s not happy about it.

the game rules were simple; suck and blow, on a card that is. pass the card mouth to mouth without dropping it. drop it and make out with the next person in front of everyone and spend an additional 10 minutes in an enclosed space. sounds easy right? it wasn’t a pi kappa alpha party without this tradition, they have a separate room dedicated for games such as these.

you watched intensely as the card made its rounds over and over you successfully received and passed it on. you were also standing between atsumu and bokuto, yikes! the card was making its way back around and like before it was just a matter of sucking and blowing, until you were locking lips with one of the hottest guys on campus. atsumu ‘dropped the card’ by accident, catalyzing the makeout sesh between the two of you.

it’s hot, it’s sloppy, it’s fucking miya atsumu.

you feel his smile on your lips as he slips his tongue in between yours, aiming for your bottom lip. the whooping, and whistling among the group was enough to encourage the egotism within you both to put on a nice show for everyone. your nails intertwining in his undercut, while his arms hug your waist.

“okay okay,” kita pushes, removing the two of you off of each other. “10 minutes, you know the drill.”

the frat brothers exchange a glance, one of many kita has shared with his little since atsumu started college.

the amount of girls that have survived that room, godspeed.

hearing the door close behind you was almost frightening, even after the spectacle you put on for everyone just now. it wasn’t until you took a few steps in you noticed this is a bedroom, not your average stuffy coat closet.

“suna teach you to kiss like that or what?” he teases, watching you stare at him in disbelief. “can’t believe he hasn’t fucked you yet.”

guess i’ll be the first, he thought.

suna? fucking you? confusion was an understatement really. unbeknownst to you they all thought you were sunas secret fuck buddy till he told them you were untouched.

atsumu almost forgot, and the realization ran through his blood with pure mischief. he was ready to get his hands on you and play with his toy of the night.

“let’s have some fun, yea?” he quips, walking towards you. “fun like what?” unintentionally you take a step back, the two of you flowing in a seamless b-line towards the bed as he goes forward and you go back.

“you’re a big girl right? in college now. ya know what big girls do?” his tone was informative signalling that there’s more to his mini monologue. “big college girls…kiss, and suck, and fuck boys.”

the smooth of your calves hit the sheets.

“a-atsumu i’m—” you’re a stuttering mess, and he finds it adorable.

“you’re what?” he mocks, lifting his voice up an octave to replicate you. it was only a matter of seconds before you were pushed onto the bed with his body caging yours beneath him.

it was all happening so fast, it’s not that you didn’t want to but this has never happened before. being stuck in a room with a guy especially an experienced one was never on you to-do list for today.

atsumu’s done this to many girls. he’s used to fucking bitches every week and you were no different. he never looses and he’s damn sure nothing will change that tonight.

“i’ve never done this before…” shame drowns your conscience as you confess what you thought was a secret. little did you know, he knew.

“s’okay,” his lips pecked against your jaw lightly, he could feel how tense you were but curious as well. “just wanna make you feel good, hmm?” you could feel atsumu’s hand creeping between your thighs though his eyes never leaving yours. this look on your face, the look of a virgin, never gets old for him.

the inquisitive look of “maybe it’s not so bad” staring back at him as he pulls your panties to the side running his fingers along your wet folds. you didn’t protest, or squirm, or defy, you just laid there beady eyes staring, legs spread for him awaiting his touch.

simultaneously, his fingers slide into you with ease while sharing a kiss to keep you quiet, earning a soft moan onto his lips. your body can’t help but concentrate at the foreign feeling of someone else other than yourself fingering you. “ahhh—! s-slow down ‘tsumu, too much!”

“no can do angel, got a lot ridin’ on ya.” completely dismissing your feelings, he continues to pump his fingers into your leaking cunt. “hurts..” you whine. “atsumu it hurts!”

“don’t lie ta me pretty, i can feel you clenching ‘round me.” your face flushed at his words, fluttering around his fingers. besides the slight discomfort it felt so fucking good, you really couldn’t get enough of it.

the humiliation you felt hearing the lewd squelching of his digits fingerfucking you was apparent. you watched in awe as he sped up, arm now jackhammering in and out of you at an ruthless pace. “fuckfuckfuck!” you cry, eyes brimming with tears.

atsumu traps your lips in a messy kiss, tasting a mixture alcohol on each others tongues. whines and whimpers escape fall from your lips onto his at the feeling of the coil in your stomach about to break. the euphoria that overcomes your body when your legs begin to tremble, thighs squeezing around his hand, your virgin cunny covers his fingers in sticky cum.

but his assault on your pussy doesn’t stop there, he’s still going; fucking you through your orgasm. “can’t stop there, you can give me another one baby, know you can.”

“no! c-can’t take it! i—” his hand quickly cups around your lips, muffling any sound that dares to come out of your mouth. time’s almost up and atsumu would throw more than a fit if he got caught and had to restart already.

he could feel it again, your pussy clenching around his fingers. atsumu continued at his gruelling pace, with a slick smile on his face. It was so cute seeing you like this, half an hour ago you walked into this party as an innocent little thing, and now he had you exactly where he wanted you — under him with his fingers buried inside of you, on your second orgasm.

“cumming… ‘m cumming—!” you mumble under the weight of his hand, eyes fluttering shut. “atta-fucking-girl angel.” your chest heaved and knees buckled while you creamed on the blondes fingers once more this time at full force, making you see stars before he pulled out of you.

“wasn’t so hard now was it?” he smiled sucking your slick off of his fingers. atsumu is now leading by two points and cocky was an understatement, he can feel himself growing hard watching your body go limp against the sheets. if he had the time, he’d take you right then and there but there was always an opportunity for that.

“make yourself decent before you come out.” was the last thing he said to you, chuckling while the door clicked shut behind him.

get yourself together! the sound of your own voice mentally cursing you was enough to spring you back to your feet, pulling your dress down, and fixing your hair. luckily for you, everyone continued their conversations, dancing, and games as you crept out the room exhaling heavily with relief.

a few eyes lingered, especially kita’s. he peered at you from afar, while atsumu whispered in his ear. he raised the red solo cup with an upward tilt of his head before smirking in your direction, taking a sip from the cup.

frat boys are just the equivalent to mean girls.

hell, it hasn’t even been five minutes and he’s already going around telling everyone. you couldn’t bare to see it really, causing you to relocate somewhere else in the house, the stairs.

you sat on the wooden steps, eyes glued onto your phone screen. the feeling of someone walking down was evident as the hardwood took a dip at the weight, it was osamu.

he pondered, swirling the liquid courage in his hand. how could he get you on his white linen sheets? he thought. osamu smirked at the idea that popped into his head soon after remembering the common denominator between his bed and that dress you’re wearing.

starring at your back from a few steps above, his eyes moveded to suna who was situated mere meters away from where you sat. he feigns tipping his cup, eyes pointing down to where you sat then back to the brunette.

it was genius, if he ruins that pretty little dress of yours you’ll have no choice but to take it off.

“do it.” suna mouthed covering his words with a cupped hand.

the weight of someone walking down the stairs returns after having paused, you didn’t think much of it until alcohol poured down your shoulder and into your bra from above you.

“sorry angel! that was my bad.” osamu quips, downing the rest of his cup.

“you’ve got to be kidding me..”

“relaaax,” he drawls before reassuring that “you can come change up here.”

—♡︎—

osamu scanned his closet looking for one of his old flings’ clothes murmuring, “no-no-no-too big-too small— damn i should call her..” as he looks through the assortment of clothing.

you waited on his bed partly disgusted at the fact that these clothes were equivalent to trophies.

“check that drawer ta’ your left for something.” he gestures a waving hand, pointing to the side table next to his bed.

the drawer was less then helpful, containing: condoms, an agent provocateur set (brand new, mind you), a bottle of dior sauvage, and a miniature plastic bag with two smiley face pills in it.

he has drugs just laying in his room?

“what’re these?” prodding at the drugs you ask, dangling the bag between delicate fingers.

he turns to face you, smirking when he sees what caught your curiosity. “a pretty girl named, molly.” osamu banged a girl with that name now that he thinks about it.

“you guys seriously take these?” eyes narrowing at the tiny pill analyzing it’s appearance, but wanting to know more at the same time. “are they fun?”

osamu closes the closet door, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. his attention is focused elsewhere when you display genuine interest in the party drug.

“wanna find out?” he asks with the tilt of his head.

fuck around and find out was an understatement, getting fucked after finding out was more accurate really.

“fuuuuck ‘samu..” your manicure runs through silver hair, as he messily laps at your cunt.

every flick of his tongue making your knees buckle, the pleasure was overwhelming your lower half as he teased your clit with the tip his tongue.

you couldn’t get over how good it feels, what was the point of staying a virgin when there’s men who will pleasure you like the miya twins.

“pussy tastes s’good princess.” he mumbles onto you, sending vibrations up your spine, continuing to eat you like you’re his last meal.

he could feel now eager you were to get off, grinding yourself against his face in hopes to chase the orgasmic high that your body was so close to.

the loud noises of his mouth smothered against your pussy and broken whimpers fill up the room.

loud enough for suna to hear through the bedroom door he’s standing on the other side of. he could feel his erection growing, listening to his best friend taint his virgin girl bestie on the most sinister night of the year.

“righthererighthere! ‘m cumming— oh fuck!” the euphoric feelings of the drug in your system enhanced every last nerve running through your veins.

you’re loud, high pitched whines falling from your throat as you throw your head back, eyes shutting tight.

osamu’s face pushed into your cunt with force, nose nudging at your clit. little did the two of you know, the brunette purposely walked into the room with you on the verge of a mind blowing orgasm and osamu’s mouth quite busy.

“you cumming?” suna asks, gripping your face with slender fingers.

your eyes shoot open to see one of his hands planted on the back of osamu’s head pushing his mouth deeper into your pussy, the other holding your face, taunting from above.

“oh yea, you’re fucked.” he taunts, pushing your lips into a kissy face forcefully moving your head from side to side, observing your features.

suna’s done his fair share to know you weren’t all there, your dilated pupils, flushed face and very vulnerable state gave it away.

“don’t be shy, go on. might be ‘samu going to town on ya but your attentions on me, hmm?”

seeing you tweaked out on the verge of your third orgasm of the night really did it for him.

it was torture, watching and hearing the twins have their fun with you meanwhile he had to watch.

absolutely no fair. he’s the reason you even considered coming to the party at all it wouldn’t be all that bad if he used you as a reward for his efforts, now would it?

“rin!!” you whine, “get out! this is embarrassing!”

suna doesn’t bother listening to your protest. he’s already slid his shirt off, unbuckling his belt watching osamu make you cum.

“move it.” he chuckles, tugging at grey locks.

“hey, i had her first.” osamu scoffs at his friends audacity.

“technically atsumu had her first, but it’s my turn. so, are you gonna keep bitchin’ or get your dick sucked while i fuck her?”

the two boys spoke as of you weren’t even there, like you were just an object for them to play with. this wasn’t about the bet anymore. this was about you, and the fact that they’d never get the opportunity to see your tweaked out, legs spread, off molly ever again.

a once in a lifetime opportunity with you in a position to not protest.

suna’s shadow hovered over you, manipulating your body to fit both of them on osamu’s mattress.

hazy eyes stared into his green ones with incoherent mumbles falling from your lips. seeing you fucked out made him want it that much more.

“hang in there for us pretty.” his voice sounding so sincere, meanwhile rubbing the tip of his cock along your slit.

he pushes into you without warning, stretching your cunt around his girth.

“shit..” he hisses through his teeth. “definitely a virgin, fuck.”

“ah—!” your hand flies to his chest in attempt to get him to slow down. “s’too much..”

“none of that,” osamu coos, grabbing your wrist.

you didn’t even notice that he slid his boxers off, smearing precum on your lips like lipgloss.

“hey ‘samu where’s the—” atsumu says, swinging the door open to the lewdest live scene he’s ever seen. “holy hell.”

“are you gonna stare or join?”

sluttsumu 2023

[homeofthelonelywriter]

Your lips | Pt. 1

(A/N) I don't think this will be along series, but there will be at least on more part! Also, I'm no doctor, or nurse, that's why I mostly skipped over the exam part!

Pairing: Simon x fem!pregnant!Reader

Warning: mutual pining, medical stuff (nothing graphic), mention of scars, pregancy

Synopsis: Almost done with your day (and your pregnancy), you get a last minute patient. The usual stoic and guarded Ghost is immediately charmed by you.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Epilogue

“There is a lot I can spare you from Simon, but the medical checkups are mandatory. There is nothing I can do about that.”

Price had his arms crossed over his chest, his eyebrows were pulled together in a slight frown as he regarded his Lieutenant. Simon on the other hand just looked annoyed. There were many reasons as to why he joined the military, but being fussed over by grown people was not one of them. He opened his mouth to, surely, whip out a smart remark, but Price held up his hand before he had the chance.

“You have until tomorrow six p.m. to go to the clinic yourself, or I’ll drag you by your scruff, you hear me?”

With a defeated sigh, he nodded, before he left Price’s office. Might as well get it over with, right?

One look at your computer told you that it was almost time to go home. Your to-do list for the day was all ticked off and your list of patients had no name remaining. With a heavy sigh, you pushed yourself out of your chair and onto your feet, your hand instinctively cradling your swollen belly. Your lips pulled into a smile as you felt a kick right against your hand.

With slow, even steps you made your way to the door of your office and leaned outside until you caught the secretary’s eyes. She smiled at you. But not a bright, sunny smile, no, it was a sad, apologetic smile. Your own smile faded, but you nodded before waddling back to your desk. By the time you sat down, a new patient file was displayed on your screen.

His entire name was redacted, only his callsign was displayed. Ghost. You quickly read through his file, noting that he obviously hated all medical personnel, since he barely showed his face here. By the time you were almost done, a sharp knock rang out from your door.

“Enter!”

From the heavy steps, you could discern that it was the soldier who had been added to your day last minute. Still, you kept your eyes on the screen, trying to get all the information into your head.

“Take off your shirt and sit down on the bed. I’ll be with you in a second.”

Your tone might have sounded harsh, but you quickly learned to use an authoritative tone with soldiers. Otherwise, they might not listen. Your eyes were still fixed on the screen as rustling sounded through the room, followed by the creak of the bed. Now that he was done, you slowly rose to your feet again and squeezed some sanitizer into your hand, grabbing your clipboard before waddling over to the man.

“Just a regular checkup, right?”

Your eyes finally landed on the man’s back when he grunted in response. And good lord, he had one hell of a back. Covered in scars and a few tattoos, his shoulders were broad and strong. You felt yourself blush as some not-so-innocent thoughts entered your mind and it took you a second to switch back to work mode and to stop admiring him. You dealt with soldiers all day, every day, and yet none have had that effect on you. Until now.

To distract yourself, you quickly started with the exam. Looking for any injuries, listening to his lungs and heart. Within a few minutes, you were done with his back and slowly moved to his front. You were ready to just continue the exam when your baby landed an especially firm kick against your womb. You came to a quick stop, placing your hand against the place the baby had kicked.

“Woah, you okay there, love?”

Ghost jumped to his feet, placing a firm hand on your shoulder, but you just waved him off, by now being used to it.

“I’m fine…just…pregnant with a very active baby.”

An amused huff left his lips before Ghost sat back down. And even though he looked the same as before, you noticed how his eyes were more focused now, looking for any sign of trouble. He almost seemed…protective.

After a few moments, you recovered and let out a sigh, closing the distance between you and Ghost. But you hesitated for a moment. How would you reach his chest? As if reading your thoughts, Simon spread his legs, allowing you to step between them and reach his chest. A smile tugged on your lips.

“Thanks.”

He nodded in response, keeping still while you continued your exam, only moving when you asked him to. You instinctively reached to your right, ready to take his blood pressure, but your hand came back empty, you had forgotten to bring it with you from the table. A tired sigh escaped your lips and you took a few steps in the direction of the table when Ghost placed a hand on your arm and stopped you.

“I’ll get it.”

Before you could answer, he was on his feet and already at the table, picking up the device. Something that always seemed so large in your hands was easily dwarfed in his and you couldn’t help but admire his hands. Hands which he used to kill people. Hands which surely could do unholy things to your body. Hands which…

Your thoughts were interrupted by the clearing of a throat and you finally noticed that you had been staring at his hands.

“Oh, uh, sorry.”

With flaming cheeks, you grabbed the device and swiftly pulled the sleeve up Ghost’s arm. Pressing two buttons, you watched as the sleeve slowly began to fill with air. This part was always kind of awkward since all you could do was wait. You expected it to be the same way with him, but instead, he suddenly spoke up.

“How far along are you?”

You looked up, surprise clear on your face.

“Uh, thirty-three weeks.”

A small smile pulled at your lips as you gazed at your belly, your hands softly gliding over it.

“Hm…husband must be excited.”

You chuckled dryly and shook your head as the device finally displayed the value you had been waiting for.

“No husband. No father at all, to be honest. Left as soon as he found out I was pregnant.”

If you weren’t so focused on filling out the form on your clipboard, you would have noticed Ghost’s entire body tensing up and his eyes darkening. His gaze swept over you, following your curves, as his mouth watered. How could someone abandon someone who looked this delicious?

But before his thoughts could continue, you looked up from your clipboard and smiled at him.

“All that’s left is drawing some blood. But since it’s already late, I assume you’re not sober, so could you come in tomorrow morning before breakfast? That way we can get the most accurate values.”

Ghost found himself nodding, a smile hidden behind his medical mask at the thought of seeing you again tomorrow.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

You grinned before waddling back to your desk and sinking down on your chair. As soon as you were out of sight, Ghost quickly pulled his shirt on and got to his feet. He turned to look at you and for a split second, caught you staring before you quickly averted your eyes.

With a grin under his mask, he started to walk to the door, before he got an idea.

“Are you done for the day?”

You looked up at him, your eyes sparkling with confusion.

“Yes, why?”

Ghost nodded and walked back into the office.

“I could accompany you to your car if you’d like. Carry your bag, you know.”

Your eyes widened, a smile tugging at your lips.

“I’d like that, but I took the bus to get here. I don’t exactly fit behind the steering wheel anymore.”

“Oh, in that case, let me drive you home. You shouldn’t be on your feet that much.”

You shook your head, about to protest, but Ghost insisted and finally, you accepted. He watched you finish up your paperwork and pack up before he grabbed your bag and offered you his arm to hold onto.

With slow steps, he led you through the clinic to the doors and towards one of the base cars. One that could be used by all soldiers. On the way you gave him your address, not noticing the smile once he noted that you lived on base yourself.

After he helped you get settled and made sure you were buckled in, he got in and started the car, carefully taking off in the direction of your house. The car ride was spent in comfortable silence, and with you almost falling asleep in the passenger seat. But all too soon, the car pulled up in front of the army-issued house and Ghost quickly rounded to your side to help you get out.

He insisted on helping you get inside, only being satisfied once you sat on your couch with a glass of cold water in front of you.

“Thank you, Ghost. I really appreciated you bringing me home.”

He nodded, his mask hiding a sheepish smile and red cheeks.

“When do you start tomorrow?”

With a slight frown, you told him that you usually started at seven a.m. and he nodded, before saying goodbye and walking towards the door. But at the last second, he stopped and turned to look at you again.

“It’s Simon…my name.”

A grin spread on your lips as you nodded and slowly repeated the name, almost to yourself. But Simon heard it and he couldn’t deny that he loved how his name sounded coming from your lips.

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Call of Duty - Masterlist

Master-Masterlist

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[theostrophywife]

kiss with a fist | chapter one.

masterlist 💋 chapters 💋 playlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: kiss with a fist - florence and the machine.

author's note: i'm so excited to share this series with everyone. this was literally meant to be a one shot fic but i have no self control therefore it spiraled into a whole series. without further ado, please enjoy the first chapter and let me know what you think 🤎

Wit beyond measure is a man’s greatest treasure. 

Intelligence, knowledge, wisdom. These were the traits that Ravenclaws valued most, but if the founder of your house could see you now, Rowena Ravenclaw would probably roll over in her grave. 

Because there was nothing smart about falling in love with Theodore Nott. 

In fact, it might be the most idiotic thing you’ve ever done in your entire life. 

So why did it feel so bloody exhilarating? 

To understand your descent into madness, it was prudent to trace the events back to point zero. 

It was a rainy September afternoon, unusually dreary even for the Scottish Highlands. The first week of your return to Hogwarts had been chaotic to say the least. Between performing your prefect duties by showing the first years around the castle and dealing with the clueless third year that accidentally set off Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-bangs in the Great Hall, you were absolutely knackered by the time Friday rolled around. 

Unfortunately, you had no time to rest. Even though the term just started, you were already spending much of your nights studying until your eyes felt like they were going to fall out of your skull. Tonight, you were in the potions laboratory tackling a particularly stubborn advanced draught. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t figure it out. 

You dropped a sprig of wormwood into the cauldron and stirred counterclockwise then clockwise, just like the recipe instructed. The concoction bubbled to the surface. Holding your breath, you peered into the mixture with hope that this try would finally turn out successful. The potion turned a vibrant magenta color before exploding all over the front of your uniform. 

Sadly, this was the closest you’d come to brewing the Angel’s Trumpet Draught. You sighed, wiping down your tie with a washcloth. It did nothing except make the mess worse. What you needed was a good old fashioned soak.

Luckily, you had access to the prefect’s bathroom on the fifth floor. During this time of night, it would be gloriously empty. Giving you the perfect opportunity to wallow in bubbles and self pity. 

The trek from the dungeons to the fifth floor was fortunately uneventful. The hallways were dark and quiet, allowing you to slink off to the bathroom in peace. With a whisper of pine fresh, the pearly gates opened.

You turned on the faucets, setting the temperature just below boiling and dispensing herbs and fragrances into the tub. When you were finally satisfied, you quickly discarded your soiled clothes and eagerly stepped into the warm bath. The scent of rosewater and pink himalayan salt instantly relaxed you. 

You sighed deeply, leaning against the marble tile and closing your eyes. This was definitely not the way you thought seventh year would go. Your last year at Hogwarts was supposed to be the highlight of your academic career. While your housemates fretted and fussed over quidditch games and blood moon balls, you refused to take your eyes off the prize.

Ever the diligent student, you had no interest in extracurriculars unless it brought you closer to your dream of becoming an accomplished potions master, which would hopefully catch the eye of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers. Joining the prestigious group was a dream that you had been working towards since first year. Blood, sweat, and tears had gone towards achieving this goal, especially during your most recent break. 

You spent the entire holiday interning at the Brewery, attending lectures at the Magical Division of the University of Oxford, and you had not only completed the assigned reading for your Advanced Potions class, but Professor Slughorn’s personal recommendations as well. All of that hard work should have placed you ahead of the curve, but your class rank remained the same as always. 

Second. 

Not first.

Never first.

No, that spot belonged to that rich infuriating smartass pureblooded motherfu—

“Theodore Nott,” you said, lacing your voice with as much venom as you could muster. 

Between the pale moonstone pillars stood the source of your academic anguish. Theodore was dripping sweat, his green and silver quidditch jersey covered in mud and grime. The prefect badge pinned to his robe was barely visible, more brown than silver. His curly brown hair fell erratically across his cheekbones as he brushed a stray strand away to squint in the faint light. 

The side of his mouth quirked up into a smirk when he recognized you. “You know, most people just call me Theo.” His gaze lingered on your form, which was barely covered by pink suds. “Especially those who know me rather intimately.”

You flushed in response. Amusement danced in his watercolor eyes, which seemed brighter now thanks to his sun kissed complexion. Knowing Nott, he probably spent his summer laying out in the Italian sun while attractive witches fed him grapes by hand. You didn’t get a tan like that from holing up in the English countryside with nothing but a boiling cauldron and a dusty textbook for company. He didn’t even have the audacity to pretend like he was worried about his class ranking. The bastard. 

“Every rule has its exception, Theodore,” you gritted out. “Now get the fuck out.” 

He cocked his head, sending a mass of wavy brown locks to spill to one side. “You’re right. Most people don’t usually say my name like it’s an unforgivable, but I guess you’re special in that way, diavolina mia.”

Little devil, Nott's idea of a fond nickname, irritated you to no end. Your annoyance only made him use it more. Gods, what a wanker. 

“Are you deaf or just thick? This bathroom is occupied,” you huffed, sinking lower into the bubbles. “Leave before I scream bloody murder.” 

Theo smirked. “Oh, I guarantee you’ll be screaming.” He kicked his shoes off, leaving them in a messy pile beside your own neatly arranged boots. “Though the only thing I’ll be murdering is that pu—”

The glare you sent his way would have sent lesser men running for the Forbidden Forest. “I’m serious, Nott. I’ve had a terrible fucking day and I am not giving up the bath.” 

“Neither am I,” he countered. “Practice was brutal. I ate shit on the pitch and all I want to do is to reap my prefect benefits via bubble bath. I’m afraid you’re just going to have to learn how to share, sweetheart.”

You watched in stunned silence as he peeled off his jersey. The moonlight streamed through the glass stained windows, painting him in a surreal sort of light. There was no ounce of shame to be found in Theodore Nott as he stripped off his trousers and stood stark naked in the middle of the bathroom. 

Look away, you thought. Look the fuck away now.  

But like a moth to a flame, you found yourself horribly drawn to the cocky, arrogant, son of a bludger. His tall frame cut an imposing figure in the dark as slivers of moonlight danced across his ridiculously toned chest and well-defined abs. He was neither brawny nor scrawny, but somewhere in the middle, which unfortunately happened to be your sweet spot. 

To make matters worse, the smug prick seemed perfectly aware of your ogling. You could’ve sworn Theo flexed as he stalked towards you. Unlike most boys his age, he wasn’t awkward or bumbling. Theo was confident in his body. Too confident. 

You sighed. “Can you at least attempt to be decent?” 

“Why? It’s not like you haven’t seen it all before.”

As if you needed a reminder of this ongoing tryst between you. Theo waded to your side, leaning his head back as the warm water sloshed around him. His eyes fluttered close, those thick lashes of his kissing the top of his cheekbones. Water trickled down his collarbone and you had to fight the urge to lean over and lick it off. 

“I told you, last time was—“ 

“The last time,” Theo finished. “I’m perfectly aware, principessa. You say it every time.” 

“I mean it this time.” 

He cocked his head, flashing those hypnotizing eyes at you. “Oh?” Theo drawled slowly, reaching out to brush a wayward lock of hair that had escaped from your braid. “Did my poor little Ravenclaw finally find the courage to say no to the big bad Slytherin?” 

Your breath hitched as he pressed his lips against your throat. “Fuck,” you whispered. 

“Go on then, love,” Theo hummed against your skin. He kissed the sensitive spot beneath your earlobe, making you involuntarily arch into him. Slender fingers wrapped around the base of your throat, holding you in place. “Tell me what you want, diavolina.” 

You sighed in defeat. “Stop being an asshole and kiss me, Nott.” 

Theo grabbed the back of your head and crashed his lips against yours like a man starved. After months of going without, you came to the horrid realization that you craved this as much as he did. You crawled into his lap, straddling him as he gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises. 

I am a stupid girl, you thought. A stupid, horny girl who had no business snogging Theodore Nott. 

One, you were bitter rivals. Two, Theo awakened a dangerous side of you that defied all logic. This whole fucked up situation started because of your lapse of judgment last winter. As always, Theo had said or done something to annoy you during class and in return you hexed his drink to taste like dragon dung. He retched for a week straight. Somehow Snape found out that you were to blame and placed both of you in detention.

One thing led to another in the potions classroom and you ended up with your skirt around your waist and Theo’s head between your legs. You quickly resolved that the only way to shut him up was to keep him occupied and occupied he was. Ever since then, the two of you had been at it like rabbits. 

You thought that you would leave all of it behind in sixth year, but barely a week into this term and you were already repeating the pattern. 

“I’ve been thinking about this all summer,” Theo groaned into your mouth. 

“That’s cute, Nott,” you responded sarcastically. “Miss me over the holidays, did you?”

Theo rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. Don’t act like you haven’t been thinking about this too. You’ve been testier than a Hungarian Horntail since the minute you got off the platform. I could tell that you haven’t been properly fucked since our little impromptu goodbye in the broom closet last spring.” 

“You’re absolutely repulsing.” 

He smirked. “Then why are you pulling me closer?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up and fuck me before I change my mind.” 

“You could say please.” 

“I could,” you said with a shrug before gripping his cock and lining him up at your entrance. Theo groaned as you sank down into him with a satisfied little smirk. “But I won’t.” 

The moan that came out of his mouth barely sounded human. “Fuck,” he said, burying his head in the crook of your neck. “How do you always feel so fucking good?” 

You knew what he meant. As much as you hated to admit it, Theo was right. You hadn’t gotten properly laid since your last tryst. There had been other boys this summer, but none of them made you feel like this. Because sex with Theo wasn’t just sex. It was warfare. You fucked like you both had something to prove. 

Even now, as you grinded your hips against him, Theo thrusted upwards with equal force like you were competing for the bloody house cup. You ran your fingers through his hair, frowning a little. 

“What?” Theo asked. 

“Did you cut your hair?” 

He grinned as he trailed kisses along your jaw. “You don’t like it?”

“Less to hold onto.”

“Don’t worry dolcezza,” Theo chuckled darkly. He squeezed your thighs and pressed you against him roughly. “I’ll make sure to hold on tight for the both of us.”

You hummed in agreement before sinking down again, setting a steady rhythm as you rode him with reckless abandon. For someone who valued logic, every ounce of common sense you possessed went out the window when it came to this infuriating boy. 

Maybe you were a masochist. But as Theo thrust sharply into you, the stupid little voice in your head said that you didn’t really mind the pain. 

You moaned as Theo tilted your chin, capturing your lips with his. It was a clash of tongue and teeth as you fought for dominance, putting your bodies to the test. He knew exactly what buttons to press, which sensitive spots to hit, how to challenge you physically and mentally. 

“Gods, right there.” You whimpered, digging your fingernails into his back. Theo’s hypnotizing eyes snapped to yours, piercing through every layer until you felt even more bare than you already were. “Don’t fucking stop, please.”

He smirked. “So you do have bedside manner after all.” 

“Not for you,” you said as you grinded down hard, making Theo bite into your shoulder. 

“Salazar fucking save me,” he grunted. 

“Your founder can’t save you now, Nott.” 

“Cruel, ruthless woman.” Theo looked up at you like he was praying to the stars. His movements stilled as your gazes collided. “Tell me you missed this. Tell me that no one else makes you feel like this.” 

You whined at the loss of friction. “You’ve picked a shit time to get all sentimental on me, Nott.”

“It’s not sentiment, it’s the truth,” Theo declared, thrusting lazily. “And I want to hear you say it.” 

“Why?”

“Call it curiosity,” he said casually. “I want to know if I measure up to the boys back in Oxford.”

Not even close, you thought. But you were not about to admit that out loud. 

“Curiosity killed the cat, you know.” 

Theo chuckled before sinking his teeth into your neck. “But I’m not a cat, little bird. I’m a snake and I’m coiled around you ready to strike if you say the word.” 

You shivered slightly. This constant back and forth, all the bickering and banter, was just you and Theo’s sick and twisted version of foreplay. Gods, you fucking missed it. 

“Fine,” you grumbled. “Theodore Nott, you are an infuriating little shit but you fuck like an absolute demon. I missed sneaking around with you in the broom closet, the charms classroom, the astronomy tower, and wherever else we managed to defile in this bloody castle. Is that what you wanted to hear?” 

The shiteating grin on his face almost made you want to take it all back, but then he flipped you over, laying you down on the cold marble tile and staring at you with so much lust in his eyes that you felt the depths of his desire in your core. He crawled over you, water trickling down his tanned skin. 

“Close enough,” he remarked before hiking your leg over his shoulder and burying himself so deep that you clawed the edge of the tub to keep yourself from slipping. 

The rest of it was a blur of skin on skin as Theo unleashed himself on you. His mouth, his fingers, his cock were all just tools of seduction that he wielded with lethal precision. 

The pleasure washed over you in waves, crashing again and again as he made you cum not once, not twice, but a total of three times. By the time he reached his peak, you were so exhausted that the two of you collapsed in the dark. 

You laid side by side, staring up at the domed glass ceiling in stunned silence. After a moment, Theo turned over to face you.

“So?” 

“So what?”

“Did I manage to knock that stick out of your arse?”

You rolled your eyes, pushing off the tile. “And that’s my cue to leave.”

“I’m kidding. I’m good, but I’m not that good,” Theo teased, following closely behind as you put your clothes back on. He eyed the bright magenta stain on the front of your uniform. “What happened there? Did you murder some poor unsuspecting pygmy puff?” 

“No, but I did a number on the potions lab,” you lamented with a sigh. “That stupid Angel’s Trumpet Draught is bloody impossible to brew.” 

“That old thing?” Theo asked, pulling out a fresh set of clothes from his quidditch bag. “I finished it ages ago.” 

You gaped, nearly tumbling over your own skirt. “How? I followed the recipe word for word and this disastrous stain was all I managed to achieve.”

“Sometimes you have to go off the book,” he replied. “Experiment a little.” 

“No thanks, I’d rather keep all my limbs intact.”

“I think you’re doing a rather splendid job of endangering yourself all on your own,” Theo said sarcastically. He cocked his head as you slipped on your boots. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll show you how to brew the draught in exchange for a favor.” 

You narrowed your eyes in suspicion. “What kind of favor?” 

“That’s for me to decide and for you to accept.” 

“I’d rather not give an egomaniac a nuclear advantage.” 

Theo rolled his eyes. “Do you want my help or not, diavolina?” 

“Fine,” you said with a sigh. “But only because I’m desperate.” 

“Words every bloke is dying to hear.” 

Without a word, he tossed a mass of balled up fabric in your direction. “What’s this?” 

“A jumper, an article of clothing generally worn to retain warmth in colder climates,” Theo deadpanned.

“I know what a jumper is, you tosser. Why are you giving it to me?” 

“Because, you’ll get a cold walking around like that,” Theo explained with a longsuffering sigh as though you were a clueless first year. The corners of his mouth quirked up. “Plus, I can see your nipples through your blouse and as much as I enjoy the view, I doubt that flashing Filch is at the top of your bucket list.” 

“You truly are appalling,” you replied, shrugging the slightly faded jumper on. The thing was so worn that you couldn’t even make out the inscription on the front. The fabric swallowed you whole, skimming the top of your thighs. It also smelled like sea salt and smoke and boy. One boy in particular. 

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” He grinned, showing off those stupid little dimples of his. “Meet me in the potions lab tomorrow. Eight o’clock sharp, just like old times. And bring a muffin.” 

“For the draught?’ 

“No, for me.” Theo said, holding the door open. “I’ll need motivation if I’m spending my Saturday morning with you.” 

You slipped into the hallway and flipped him the bird. His laughter followed you in the dark like an annoying shadow.

“See you tomorrow, my little pygmy puff!”

Taglist: @annaisabookworm@marina468@yaraasthings @the0doreslover@bubybubsters@moony-artemis @natasha887@lucyysthings@criesinlies @bunnymallowo@niktwazny303@letmedownslows @siriuslyalovergirl@wordsarelife@clairesjointshurt @daydreamingabthar @mishtay @cherry-hoe  @littlebookbengal @maybefoxysouls @nomup  @aliensknowmyillusions

[officialaemondtargaryen]

Never Gonna Be Alone [part 2]

Summary: A collection of small moments that lead to falling in love with your roommate. This is a Modern Day!AU.

Pairing: Aegon Targaryen x Reader

Word Count: ~2.6k

Author's Note: I hope that you all enjoy!

Warnings for the entire series: language, drug & alcohol use, two oblivious idiots, pining, fluff, possible angst, sexual content, and, me attempting to be a comedian.

Masterlist | Playlist

Originally, you had made a bet with yourself that your silly little crush on Aegon wouldn’t last more than a week– then it was two, and suddenly a month had passed. Your feelings, much to your chagrin, had remained persistent. 

It wasn’t for a lack of trying, either. 

You had done anything and everything you could to stop thinking about him– kept your distance by taking extra shifts at work, joined an improv club, read approximately eleven new books, and even learned how to crochet so that you had an excuse to stay in your room 24/7. Worst of all was downloading that stupid dating app, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and they don’t say that the fastest way to get over someone is by getting under someone else for nothing. 

The truth was a hard pill to swallow, however. No matter how many guys slid into your DMs and then ghosted after a couple of days of texting, no matter how many miniature cows you crocheted or books you read, you liked him. And not in the fleeting, passing kind of way that you’d originally expected. No, these feelings had taken a hold of you– rooting into you in the way that a stubborn weed roots into concrete. 

Anyways, back to that dating app… 

It had been a joke with yourself at first; a half-hearted swipe-fest with no real intent behind it. You weren’t actually looking for someone, more like waiting for someone to miraculously appear and make you forget about Aegon Targaryen. You were smart enough to know that Mr. Right wasn’t lurking on Hinge, but you figured there had to be someone out there who could temporarily distract you from his stupid, not-at-all beautiful smile, or the way he belly-laughed at your jokes that weren’t even funny.

The first guy to make it out of the 72-hour ‘Only-Talk-On-The-Hinge-App’ phase, and into the ‘We-Can-Start-Texting-And-Maybe-Plan-A-Date’ phase was a guy named Criston. Yes, you should have known by the name that it wasn’t going to work out, but he was dark and handsome– the complete opposite of the person you were actively trying to forget existed– and seemed interested enough in you to ask you out on a proper date. Sure, he was a bit boring via text, but you figured that not everyone can be as clever and witty as you, and you owed it to yourself not to write him off yet. 

Aegon was sitting on the couch playing video games when you walked down the hallway and into the living room. You had been listening to him chatter with his online friends for the past hour and a half as you got ready for your date; his voice carrying through the thin walls of your shared apartment, hurling profane insults at random children and laughing along with his friends at the crude jokes they’d tell each other (their mother’s would be ashamed). You didn’t look at him when you entered the room, but you could feel his attention immediately shift. 

He paused the game mid-action, pulling his headset loosely around his neck, and turned to look at you. The sudden silence of the room made you hyper-aware of his eyes on you as you made your way into the kitchen to grab your purse from the counter. When you finally turned back to the living room, you finally caught his stare. 

His mouth was slightly agape and he swallowed hard before saying, “Where you off to?”

Without waiting for you to answer, he turned back to his game, pulling his headset back up over one ear so that he could still hear your response. Your shoulders fell just slightly as he turned his back towards you as if he didn’t care to hear the answer at all, as if your sudden appearance hadn't just thrown him completely for a loop and rendered him nearly speechless. 

You straightened up and smoothed your dress and walked over to check yourself in the mirror one last time; delicately fixing a few fly away hairs and ensuring there wasn’t lipstick smeared on your teeth. “I am going on a date,” you told him with more confidence than you actually felt.

There was a brief pause and then he muttered, “A date, huh? Good luck with that.” 

You caught his eyes in the reflection of the mirror and turned to look at him, quirking an eyebrow at the sarcasm in his tone. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was jealous, but that would mean that he actually cared, and you didn’t want to get your hopes up more than they already were. Before you could think too much about it, Aegon quickly looked away, dismissing you as he immersed himself back into his game, seemingly ending the conversation. 

Not sure how to feel, you turned on your heels towards the front door without another word. You had half-hoped that you would have elicited more of a reaction from him by choosing this particular outfit, and couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed by the interaction; chalking it up to him just being a typical, clueless guy who probably didn’t even notice how much effort you had put into looking like that— because none of them ever did. 

“Hey!” Aegon called out just as you stepped into the foyer. You stopped in your tracks, leaning back against the doorframe and cocked your head to the side to see what it was he wanted. “You, uh– you look really nice,” he added, the words tumbling out awkwardly.

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden compliment. 

"Uh, thanks," you replied bashfully, not knowing what else to say as you tried to ignore the warmth that bloomed in your cheeks.

The moment that you left your apartment you realized that this date was surely pointless, and that was made crystal clear from the second that this Criston guy had slid into the booth across from you more than fifteen minutes late. Despite the fact that he was the one to initiate the date, you were the one who chose the place and time; deciding on a comfortable hole-in-the-wall Italian joint that you enjoyed but didn’t get the chance to frequent often. They had a live jazz band that played on Friday evenings, which was perfect for a first date– intimate enough to set the mood with enough distractions to fill any conversational gaps. 

And unfortunately for you, there were plenty. 

Turns out that Criston was just as dull– if not more so– in person as he was over text. He only spoke when spoken to, answering your questions with stiff, one-word responses that made you feel like you were conducting a job interview rather than enjoying a nice dinner with someone that you were trying to get to know. You did what you could to steer the conversation toward more lighthearted and fun topics, like movies and music– the typical things two people would discuss on a first date– but every attempt was met with a flat, almost disinterested tone. 

By the time the entrees had arrived, you had resigned yourself to the fact that this was a dud, and in doing so, you found yourself retreating to the very thoughts you had set out to avoid– Aegon.

As hard as you tried to stay present, unlike your date, the comparison was unavoidable. Criston’s lackluster personality and quiet brooding left you too much space to think; to imagine Aegon’s laugh, the way he teased you without a filter, making even the most boring moments feel like they had spark. The jazz band was a saving grace– offering you an excuse to zone out during Criston’s long, awkward pauses. But even then, the music seemed to remind you of the nights you'd spent in your shared apartment, secretly listening to Aegon strum his guitar in the other room, filling the air with a familiarity that always made you feel… at home.

Halfway through dinner and long after the conversation had fully flatlined, your date decided that it was time to make his move. He pushed back his chair and stood up, and for a split-second you were expecting that he was going to ask you for a dance, but then he mumbled something about needing to go to the restroom and grabbed his phone and keys before leaving. 

At first, he was headed for the general direction of the restrooms, but quickly- and without hesitation- pivoted towards the entrance; practically jogging out the door, without so much as a glance back in your direction. Instead of feeling the least bit shocked or upset, you just sat there, fork hovering over your plate, staring at the door, thinking to yourself, “well, that tracks.”

Honestly, him leaving mid-meal was probably the best thing that could’ve happened. 

You were off the hook from having to finish this awkward, disaster of a date, and wouldn't have to pretend that you were interested in seeing each other again only to be ghosted later on. You didn’t even mind getting stuck with the bill, knowing that this was the universe doing you a solid, and that you no longer had to waste any more of your evening trying to make small-talk with a guy who clearly had the personality of a brick wall. 

Aegon was in his room when you got home, the soft strumming of his guitar coming to a halt the moment that the door clicked shut behind you. Silence replaced the gentle melody, and you could suddenly feel the weight of the evening's disappointment pressing down on your shoulders. Just as you slipped off your shoes and took a deep breath, Aegon appeared in the hallway, his hair slightly tousled, a hint of curiosity dancing in his eyes. 

“You took a to-go box?” He asked, following you into the kitchen. You sighed in response, not wanting to talk about it. “Inn’t that like the Cardinal Rule of datin’ that you shouldn’t take a box home on the first date?” 

“Considering that I had to pay for both my meal and his as he ghosted me in the middle of dinner, you best believe I brought my leftovers home,” your tone was laced with exhaustion and annoyance, not wanting to be interrogated or lectured. “Just mine though, not his, Alfredo?” 

You shoved the box into his hands and grabbed a wine glass out of the cupboard. 

“Here, let me,” he said softly, setting down the styrofoam box and taking the wine glass out of your hands. “There’s a freshly rolled joint on the livin’ room table, go, put your feet up. I’ll be right behind you.” 

You wanted to protest but Aegon silenced you with one look, gently nudging you towards the living room with his elbow. As you settled into the couch, you could hear him shuffling around the kitchen, the soft clinking of glasses and the low hum of the fridge opening. You stretched your legs, sinking deeper into the cushions, and let out a long, steady breath; shutting your eyes for a moment and allowing yourself to be comforted by the space– the safety of it. This was home. Not the walls or the furniture, but the feeling of it. Strange how it never felt like this until Aegon moved in, at least not that you could remember. And now, he belonged here just as much as you did, his presence somehow made the air feel warmer, more settled.

“Here you are, m’lady,” he said smiling, as he handed you a generous serving of Pinot.

“Mm, thank you,” you smiled as you took the glass and indulged yourself with a long sip. 

Aegon nudged your legs gently, signaling for you to move them, and you obliged with a soft sigh, letting him sit down beside you. As soon as he was settled, he pulled your legs back into his lap, his fingers absentmindedly tracing small circles on your calf. It was a small gesture– simple and unspoken– but it sent an explosion of warmth throughout your body, spreading from where his fingertips grazed your skin and settling deep in your chest. His touch was suddenly all that you could think about, and why is it so warm in here?

You weren’t used to this, not from him—this quiet, effortless closeness. You had never been this physically intimate before, and yet, it didn’t feel awkward or out of place. Instead, it felt... natural. Like some unspoken shift had occurred between you both, and this was just how it was now; the air instantaneously buzzing with a different type of energy. His touch was no longer just a fleeting moment as you moved around each other in the kitchen in the mornings as you fixed your breakfasts before work; it lingered, deliberate, almost soothing. Every soft stroke of his fingers made you acutely aware of how intimate this moment really was.

“So,” he said, turning slightly towards you, draping one arm across the back of the sofa– the other was still placed gingerly on your calf. “You met this guy where? Tinder, Hinge, Bumble, Fetish.com?” 

You gave him an immediate side-eye and he smirked. “We met on Hinge.” 

“Interestin’, I thought that one was the more superior app,” he shrugged and took a drink from his glass. “What happened?”

“Other than the fact that he had the personality of a wet napkin?” You sighed, leaning your head back against the cushion. “Honestly, Aegon, I should’ve seen it coming. He was a shit texter, but I kept telling myself maybe he’s just better in person. Nope! Still shit! Truth be told, the most interesting thing he did all night was ghosting me in the middle of dinner.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head in disbelief. 

“That’s low, even for the sad state of modern dating,” he muttered as his soft smile was replaced with a frown. “I’m sorry that happened to you. I’m sure it was humiliating.”

You replied with a nod, taking another sip of wine. His fingers continued their gentle tracing along your calf and you felt another wave of warmth roll through you, but convinced yourself that it was just the wine. 

“I’m just... over it, you know?”

He only nodded in understanding, allowing a comfortable silence to settle in between the two of you. The sounds of the city drifted in through the open window; the faint murmur of traffic, the distant laughter of a passerby talking on their phone, a warm, late summer breeze stirring the curtains– it all just faded into the background as you became consumed by your thoughts. 

Aegon shifted slightly, his hand still resting on your leg as he set his glass down and reached for the joint on the table. With a flick of his lighter, he lit it and took a slow drag before passing it to you without a word. Your fingers brushed his as you took it from him, the contact lingering longer than it should have, and nearly sending you into cardiac arrest. You brought the joint to your lips, hoping that it would help you calm down before you did something to ruin the moment, and exhaled the smoke with a tiny cough. 

His eyes lingered on you as you took another hit before passing it back to him. You were desperate to know what he was thinking, but you were terrified that if you opened your mouth to ask, every pathetic thought you had about him would come spilling out. 

“Do me a favor, yeah? No more dating apps.” His voice cut through the haze, fingers tracing delicately along the outside of your ankle now. “Those twats online only want one thing and you deserve so much more n’that.”

“Oh, it’s already been deleted,” you grinned, sneaking a glance at him.

“Good,” he smiled and moved to get up off of the couch, you immediately mourned the loss of his touch. “Now if you’ll excuse me, my lovely roommate was nice enough to bring home her leftover Alfredo and I’ve got a serious case of the munchies.” 

You sighed, leaning back against the couch as the harsh reality sank in. 

This wasn’t just a silly little crush anymore– no, there was a reason why every attempt you made to push him away only resulted in him reeling you further in. It was sickening, really, once you realized it and how you suddenly wanted to scream it from every open window. The sensation made your stomach churn and simultaneously gave you butterflies, and goddamnit.

You were so in love with him.

Tag List: @primroseluna, @elllielewiss, @mrs-starkgaryen, @watercolorskyy, @st-eve-barnes, @seaheaded , @roxiphera

Let me know if you would like to be tagged (or un-tagged)

[solxamber]

Hi! Loved your villainess series and i can't wait for a Jamil chapter! In the meantime, do you mind if I request Jamil x a reader whom the Asims are absolutely terrified of? As in they're one of the most genuinely kind people out there but they could eradicate you with a snap of their fingers when pissed (though they only do that in extreme situations and are pretty reasonable). So as soon as Jamil starts dating them, everyone in the Asim household starts walking on eggshells around him cause they don't want to be eradicated off the face of the earth. He still has to do his job but the more dangerous aspects or any extra work is delegated to somebody else. Basically, Jamil can now be as overachieving as he wants since nobody has enough of a death wish to risk pissing off his lover.

Jamil Viper x Intimidating! reader

thank you for waiting <3 i hope you like it

The moment Jamil starts dating you, the entire Asim household becomes a drastically different place. It’s not like you’re a tyrant or anything—you’re the sweetest, kindest person they’ve ever met.

You’re always smiling, polite, and helpful. But everyone knows about that side of you. The side that only shows when something pushes too far, and you go from warm and gentle to terrifying in the blink of an eye.

It doesn’t happen often—really, it only ever happens in extreme situations—but one close encounter was more than enough to put the fear of you into the entire Asim household.

The first time it happened, one of the servants had accidentally endangered Jamil by not paying attention. Nothing too serious in hindsight, but in the heat of the moment, you had stepped in, voice cold and eyes sharp as you reprimanded the poor servant with an intensity no one expected from you.

You didn’t yell or make a huge scene, but the weight of your words and the terrifying calm in your expression was more than enough to send everyone scattering. And now, that incident has taken on a life of its own, becoming a whispered legend among the staff.

Jamil, however, is a little too amused by the whole situation. He’s never seen you lose your temper with him, and he finds it kind of satisfying watching everyone tiptoe around, desperate not to cross you.

Not to mention, it’s made his life a whole lot easier. Suddenly, all the extra dangerous or exhausting tasks that used to be piled on him are conveniently handled by someone else. No one dares to risk upsetting you by overworking him.

As you walk into the Asim estate one day, the staff noticeably scatter, heads ducked as they try not to make any mistakes in your presence. You exchange an amused look with Jamil as he walks beside you.

"Did I do something to terrify them today?" you whisper, half-joking.

Jamil smirks, clearly enjoying this more than he should. "No, they're just smart. Nobody wants to be the one responsible for angering you."

You roll your eyes, nudging him with your elbow. "I’m not that bad."

"Tell that to the servant who accidentally put me in danger last month. I think he’s still recovering," Jamil replies, his voice teasing.

You blush, feeling a little guilty. "I didn’t mean to scare him. He just needed to be more careful."

"Oh, you didn’t scare him. You petrified him," Jamil says, his smug grin growing wider. “Now, everyone’s scrambling to make sure I don’t get stuck with anything that could stress me out, all because they don’t want you to get upset on my behalf."

He’s not wrong. It’s like there’s an unspoken agreement among the staff that keeping Jamil stress-free is the key to survival.

Tasks that used to involve risky magic, late nights, or heavy lifting are reassigned before they even reach Jamil’s to-do list. And it’s not just because Jamil’s Kalim’s right-hand man; it’s because of you.

The thought of you unleashing your wrath is enough to keep the household running smoothly, with no one willing to take chances.

Jamil stretches, looking relaxed for the first time in what feels like years. “I could get used to this,” he mutters, clearly reveling in his newfound freedom from extra work.

You shoot him a playful glare. "You’re enjoying this too much."

"Can you blame me?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve got more free time, no one’s shoving dangerous tasks my way, and I have the best motivation to keep it that way.” He leans closer, his voice dropping to a soft murmur, “That motivation being you.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, warmth flooding your chest. Jamil isn’t always one for open displays of affection, but when he does say things like this, they hit hard. You can’t help but smile, reaching out to take his hand as you walk together.

"I didn’t mean to turn the whole household into a bunch of scaredy-cats," you admit, squeezing his hand.

Jamil chuckles softly, pulling you a little closer. “It’s not your fault they’re terrified. You just have... a certain presence when you’re angry.”

You snort, shaking your head. "I’m sure you’re not complaining, considering all the benefits."

"Not one bit," he says, his voice smooth and teasing. “Though I’ll admit, I don’t need them to be scared of you. I can handle my own problems.”

"Uh-huh, sure," you reply, narrowing your eyes at him. “And here I thought you were just enjoying the luxury of not being overworked.”

Jamil leans in, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “I enjoy being with you more.”

Your heart flips, and before you know it, you’re turning your head and pressing a quick kiss to his lips, unable to resist the moment. He seems a little taken aback, his smug exterior cracking for a second as he blinks in surprise. Then, a slow, satisfied smile spreads across his face.

"Keep that up, and I might start making excuses to slack off even more," he teases.

You laugh, shaking your head. "I can’t believe you. I’m not your excuse to get out of work."

Jamil grins, his eyes softening as he looks at you. “Maybe not. But you’re definitely the reason I’m a lot happier these days.”

He says it so casually, but the sincerity in his voice makes your chest feel tight with affection. You glance up at him, your hand still in his, and you realize just how much he’s changed since you started dating.

He’s still the same hardworking, overachieving Jamil, but now he’s more relaxed, more at ease. And you’re glad you can be a part of that.

Meanwhile, the staff is still scattering like leaves in the wind as you and Jamil stroll through the estate. Kalim, of course, is the only one who remains blissfully oblivious to the atmosphere.

"Hey, guys!" Kalim shouts, bounding over with a bright smile. “I just heard about a new event happening tonight! You two are coming, right?”

Jamil exchanges a glance with you, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You know, Kalim, I think I’m going to take the night off. We have plans,” he says smoothly, pulling you a little closer.

Kalim grins, not missing a beat. “Oh! That’s awesome! Have fun!”

You can’t help but chuckle at Kalim’s eternal optimism, but as you walk away, you notice a few of the servants letting out relieved sighs. They clearly appreciate that Jamil is taking a break, but you’re well aware of what they’re really relieved about: keeping you happy.

Jamil’s smirk returns as you head back to your shared quarters. “I think I owe you for this.”

You raise an eyebrow. "For what?"

"For making my life a whole lot easier," he says, his voice low and teasing.

You roll your eyes, but there’s a smile on your lips as you lean into him. "Just don’t get too cocky."

Jamil grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Too late.”

You laugh, shaking your head. Maybe the Asim household will always be a little terrified of you, but if it means keeping Jamil happy and safe, you can live with that.

Masterlist

[pursuitseternal]

“I wanted to hear you whimper…” ✨Update to “Bites in the Night”✨

Act 1 Astarion x f!Reader | E | 3K

Summary: After fighting your way out of the Githyanki Crèche, your vampire has a raging… ego. And you need to check it, to remind him his place… and to hear him whimper.

CW: Subby Astarion, Whimper alert, mild bondage, inappropriate use of grasping vines, begging, brat taming, face sitting, anal fingering, oral sex

Ao3 link | series on ao3 | Masterlist

“Well…” he purrs, that aspirate ‘h’ somewhere in the middle of the word making you bristle with irritation. “I thought they’d never leave…” Astarion grins, spattered in Githyanki blood as he casually licks his blade clean.

He’s the image of cool and collected… as if you all didn’t just fight your way out of the entire Crèche in the Rosymorn Monastery. As if Gale didn’t almost die three times and as if you didn’t get your favorite weapons disarmed from your hands twice. “Leave?” you snap at him. “They’re dead!”

Astarion sheathes his blade and starts to suck the blood clean from under his fingernails. “Seems hardly a difference worth fighting over, darling. Same result.”

“No, it’s a result of your big… fat… mouth,” you snip the words, closing the distance to poke him in the leather armored chest with every word. “And you defaced their painting of Vlakith! You’re lucky your undead guts aren’t being used for training targets.”

Astarion just gives that same conceited, shit-eating grin. “My guts are perfectly fine. Theirs are spread on the ground… and, since you seem in a feisty mood…” he leans in close to purr in your ear, “perhaps you’d like your guts rearranged, dear?”

“Ugh!” you gag in disgust at the suggestion. “You arsehole. You should be apologizing for that smart mouth of yours.”

“Darling, I rarely apologize, and I never do when I’m in the right. Thanks to me, we can leave this mausoleum.” He comments with a flick of his wrist, ignoring your enraged glare and heading for camp.

That’s when something snaps inside you. The other companions are already well up the trail from the Monastery. And, by now, when you and Astarion disappear, they know better than to come looking… and Shadowheart usually has her hands already glowing with Lesser Restoration. A nice treat for after feeling the blood loss on your end of your trysts.

But not this time.

“You’re a proper bastard, aren’t you?” you hiss at him, heart racing with the need to fight.

But he just flashes you that cool, collective seductive smile. “Such a mean spirit, you wouldn’t want me to have to teach you some manners… would you?” His lean frame crowds you, one arm reaching to cage you in against the tree behind you. “I’m feeling rather good right now… all that Githyanki blood has given me quite the raging… affliction. I could use your help…” his eyes flash dangerously seductive as he grabs your wrist and guides your hand to his clothed erection.

Tearing your hand away, you cuss at him. “Fucking arrogant Elf,” you hiss, grabbing him by the top of his flushed and pointed ear. “You’re going to learn manners, not me!”

Astarion crumples between your pinching fingers. Knees buckling, voice cracking, eyes tearing… you’d think you had kicked him in the balls with how pathetically he’s reacting now. “Ow, ow, ow,” he whines as you drag him off the path into the sunny woods of the Mountain Path.

You have to reach high to grab it, that pink tip of his ear, but the ache in your shoulder is worth it for how he instantly cows to you. He’s sputtering curses and calling you names, but it’s hard to take them seriously as his voice breaks with shrill whines.

Like a boy in puberty, every word cracks in his voice.

“Cheeky little… argh!” He squeals as you squeeze harder, making his feet stumble. Just in time. You find what you’re looking for.

Grasping vines, a nice little patch.

“You, my vampire, have been insufferable long enough today. Apologize,” you command.

He scoffs, trying to reach for your punishing fingers on his most tender of spots. “I won’t apologize for killing our enemies in battle. They had it coming, those Gith…”

“Hmmm, guess what, my dear,” you cup his bloodied cheek with your free hand, bringing him in for a kiss. His lips tremble against yours, his ear is still nabbed tightly in your grip, after all. You whisper in delicate and threatening tones against his mouth. “Now you’ve got your own thing coming as a result.”

He gasps, cool breath on your face as you guide him to the ground by his ear. “Hands above your head, and if you’re a good boy, I’ll even let you come.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” he snarls, trying to jerk his ear free as he lies in the grass and dirt, but the pain only makes him hiss and relent as you hold fast.

“Oh I dare, Astarion. I dare because you’re being an obnoxious, unbearable… louse!”

“I think you mean leech,” he tries to giggle, a snap of his fangs beneath you. “I have more in common with leeches.”

Your withering glare gives him just enough pause, those hard lines of his eyes softening, gaze widening as he realizes you aren’t joking.

“Hands above your head, leech,” you give your icy command.

Those elegant hands move in obedience, slender, skilled digits twitching slightly as they extend across the forest floor until…

…with a creaking groan, the grasping vines do their job, locking his wrists and upper arms neatly in place.

“Wretched hells, you have to be joking,” he growls, fighting against the vines as anger flares in those crimson eyes. “You have got to be joking, darling.”

“Serious as death itself,” you smirk down at him. “Now all you can use is your smart mouth, and until you apologize, I’m going to give it something to do.

You pull off your leather armor and underthings slowly. A smile turns your lips as you watch Astarion try to slip his hand from the vines unsuccessfully. A sweat is dotting his brow, eyes roam your exposed skin and follow your hand to where your fingers slide themselves to bury into your own cunt.

His fangs catch in the patches of sunlight through the canopy. Pupils blown wide, he watches your hand, his pink tongue wetting his lips at the sight. It doesn’t take any effort to perceive the prodding, twitching erection in his leathers. “Are you going to apologize for being a proper twat?”

“As I demonstrated today with our Gith friends, I’m not one to back down from a fight… darling….”

Oh, that smug grin on his face, that tongue teasing the corner of his mouth… you want to smack it from his handsome face, you want to… to…

You step over him. Feet framing his chest, you lower yourself to your knees, fingers parting your folds to show his hungry eyes your swollen little clit. “If you insist on being a cunt, you can taste mine…”

He smirks wider, purring and stretching beneath you. Proud of himself. “Oh darling, I…”

The groan that comes from your mouth as you cover him with your folds is so loud, birds startle from the trees. You grind, slow rolls that push his prominent, aquiline nose right against your aching clit. Finally, that tongue that has caused you nothing but trouble today is put to good use as it thrusts in and circles around your channel. His laughter tickles up your spine from your sex, and you can almost feel his self-satisfaction as you positively drench his face.

But this is supposed to be retribution. A lesson to tame his brat behavior. So you grab a fist of his perfect, blood-streaked silver hair and yank. “Mmmph,” he whines loudly into your folds. Desperation and pain. It’s high pitched, pitiful. And you shake him a bit, your breathing ragged from being driven so close to your release already.

“This isn’t for you, Astarion, it’s for me,” you snap, watching the twinkle of mischief flash in those crimson depths. “You’ve been naughty… intolerable. And now you’re going to pay for it.”

“Oh I quake in my boots,” he thrusts his hips up behind you into the air, miming what pleasures await. “I’m all a-quiver with fear,” he sniggers.

You fist your hand tighter in his hair until he hisses and whines that you’ll ruin it. “Just remember, it’s a good thing you don’t need to breathe.”

Those eyes widen at your implied threat as you sit firmly on his mouth and nose and chin. His skin already slick with your arousal, he works his head and tongue inside your folds for far longer than any mortal would survive. You grind slowly, careful not to let in too much air, savoring all the friction he can give you.

And he… he knows his duty. All fangs and tongue and lips as you roll your clit on his nose. Your walls flutter around his tongue, your pulse thumping in your ears now, no longer from rage but from hot, desperate arousal. “I’m close,” you gasp, and you know he hears you as his pointed ears twitch. “Make me come, and I just might let you, too.” You give a low, threatening laugh, “eventually that is.”

That’s when you feel it on your clit, his face sliding in your folds as he catches your bud in his front, blunted teeth and nips.

You groan, voice breaking in a scream as you come around nothing. Holding yourself up with your fist in his hair, you can’t just let yourself pitch forward or you’ll end up in the vines too. So you shake in your bliss, braced against his face and scalp as your tremors wrack through you.

Raising up, you move to kneel beside him, pulling out a rag from your bag of holding to wipe his face off.

“You just can’t keep your hands off me, even after you’ve come. Isn’t that right, darling?” He gives you that arrogant asshole of a smirk, and you mirror it. Slowly, you pop open the fastening of that blue and burgundy leather armor until his cream undershirt lies damp against his skin. You can feel his belly clenching under your feather light touch, watching it rise and fall with ragged breaths.

As your hand brushes gingerly over the rock hard bulge in his leathers, he hisses, a low giggle of a laugh in his throat. “I’ve made you feel good, haven’t I? I think I deserve a treat,” he sasses you, another roll of his hips to push his erection against your palm.

But you’re not done, and you give his cock a punishing squeeze through his leathers. “Hush,” you snap. You reach into your bag again, pulling out an eagle feather and a bottle of oil. “Now, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll open your mouth to do one of two things: apologize….” You lean forward to place a gentle kiss on his lips, “or beg.”

He laughs, catching you off guard as he bites your lips until you taste blood. “You know by now, I never beg,” he growls, pride dripping from his words.

“First time for everything,” you hiss, pulling your mouth out of his reach and licking your blood from your lips. Reaching for the feather, you tickle it over the sharp, mouthwatering line of his jaw. “We’ll start with something soft, I think…” Just that downy tip traces the lines of his chest, the chiseled muscles underneath flex and constrict as his belly clenches.

“Fuck,” he gasps, his breathing light and rapid. You hear his hands straining against the vines, their growth creaking as he fights for freedom. “Mmhm,” you hear him whine, that feather tracing the line of his waistband as his cock remains twitching.

Untouched.

His eyes are blown, pupils wide and dark as his body undulates under your teasing touch.

“I think I heard you speak, but not to apologize or beg…” you taunt, leaning over him, setting aside the feather in favor of a single finger. Your isolated touch trails the same pattern, those ridges of his abdominals are a map you know by heart now. “So you’ll have to suffer having me touch you like this ‘til you ask nicely…”

Your finger wanders to his hips, just brushing the outline of his cock. He bucks into nothingness, into open air… his breathing rough, his belly rapidly rising and clenching repeatedly. “Eugh,” he whines, your finger tracing that prominent ridge at the base of his cock head.

“Ready to apologize or beg?” you lean down to whisper in his ear, but by the way his fang bites his bottom lip, you can see he’s still clinging too tightly to that insufferable pride.

“Neither,” he says bravely, but the sensation of your hand reaching into his leathers makes an open-mouth whine rip from his mouth. You force your hand into that waistband. It’s snug, especially with how hard he’s gotten. And all you have room to do is squeeze, pulsing your fist around his shaft. You can feel the slow thump of his undead heart in his dick, so hard and so aroused as he is. “Hells… fuck… damn you…” he whines something new with every squeeze you give him.

“Just say ‘sorry,’ or ‘please,’ and all this can go much faster,” you taunt, a singsong in your voice as you release him to unlace his pants. He just gives a pathetic sigh as his cock is freed. You know it aches. All that blood from the Gith, all your teasing has made him flushed and hard and leaking precum profusely. His crimson eyes stare at your lips as you lick them, his whole world narrowed to their wet promise of release and the aching tingle in his cock. It takes a second to shimmy his leathers to the tops of his boots and to uncork the bottle of oil.

A generous amount on your hands and you smile at him. “Come on, you rascal. After all the trouble you caused, don’t you feel the least bit sorry?”

His fangs bite his lower lip tighter again, the sharp lines of his face set, determined to prevail.

Your mouth quirks to one side, hand wandering a single oily finger up his taut thigh, then between those pert ass cheeks of his.

His voice cracks in a whimper, fangs piercing into his own skin as you tease one, single finger around the tight ring of his hole. He tries so hard to snarl, to buck his hips as if he has any control. His cock just juts into the air, twitching and leaking, as you tease inside that ring of muscle just a little more… and more. The oil helps to slide your finger in, just the one digit you thrust in and out. He voices his rapid breathing, quick fire noises that sound so pathetic from his throat, you’re almost tempted to give in and bring him the sweet release you both crave.

“By the hells,” he opens his mouth, whining like a child, “you’re going to really make me pay for just being myself, aren’t you?”

“And just who do you think you are?” You snigger, all those feelings of sympathy evaporate, and suddenly you have two fingers knuckle deep in his ass. Jamming them in slowly, you crook over and over until you find that spot inside him that makes him shudder and writhe. “Ha… huh…” he’s huffing with each stroke you make inside him. “P….p….”

“Is that a ‘p-p-please’ that’s starting to finally form on your irritating tongue?” you chide him, pressing your lips on the spasming plane of his belly even as your fingers fuck him. “And don’t fool yourself, I’m making you pay not because you’re insufferable… or mischievous… or down right maliciously cruel…”

Your fingers continue their torture in his tight walls. Another kiss on his stomach, a flick of your tongue below his navel and more along those deep v cut grooves over his hips, and you hear the most divine noises from his lips. “Just so we’re clear, I’m doing this to show you your place… to remind you, you need to be a member of my party… and just because I want to hear you whimper.” You lower your mouth, his eyes almost black with lust as they stare at you. He watches you lick your lips slowly only to just breathe warm, damp air on his cock. He grunts, fangs and teeth grit as it jerks widely from the promise of contact. “Beg for me, dear…”

You can hear his little swallowed growls in time with your fingers that are still thrusting inside him.

“Beg for me to let you come…”

His breathing comes in rapid succession, hissing between his clenching teeth. Until… finally… he opens them for a single word. “Please…”

But you just laugh, low and rough in your throat. “Louder, you proud, arrogant bastard.”

“Hells, just…. Fuck me… please!” He finally breaks, voice high and breathless as he bucks his hips into the air closer to your face. A desperate attempt at contact. Any contact.

You stick out your tongue, a teasing lick up the underside of his shaft to clean the mess of precum that’s positively dripping in streams. His cock twitches away from your tongue, a mind of its own. And you laugh, letting your lips and throat vibrate as you slowly suckle him down. Your fingers prod just right, and those warm, tight muscles inside him pulse and tighten… until his cum fills your mouth. He erupts with the most pathetic sounds yet… all rapid whines that crack his voice box until he can only grunt in time with his cock spasms. He fills you; the taste is familiar, but his seed is strangely warm on your tongue. Perhaps it’s from positively gorging himself today. Maybe that’s one thing that you could enjoy because of his arrogance. You smile as you swallow, savoring the look on his sweaty face. You pull your oiled fingers free, cleaning you both with a rag.

“Still feeling like a brat?” You taunt him, as you wipe his softening cock.

“I’m hardly ever a brat, darling…”

You scoff, throwing the rag on his face. “Maybe I should leave you like this until the vines decide they’re tired of your attitude too.”

“Gods, no, please,” he adds quickly. And you just smile down at him, naked and triumphant as you say two more words…

“Good boy.”

[ffsg0jo]

𝖆𝖋𝖋𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓[𝖑𝖊𝖘𝖘] - 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊

sukuna is on the verge of being kicked out from uni, and his friends are completely useless (no surprise there, though). if only there was someone who could help him get his grades up before the semester ends....

college au - various x reader (mainly sukuna x reader)

warnings: mean gojo , slight mean suguru , kinda ooc characters , sukuna is his own warning , college/uni au , swearing

w/c: 1000 words + (not proofread)

series masterlist :: general masterlist

join the taglist here to be tagged in future chapters for this series <3

next chapter

sukuna was fucked.

he messed around last semester a bit too much, spent too many nights partying and getting shit faced. his already mediocre grades got worse and worse, attendance slipping, and now he was faced with the threat of disenrollment if he didn’t get his grades up this term. he might as well kiss his degree goodbye now.

“what about (name)?” gojo suggests, thinking about how you used to tutor suguru. gojo remembered how it was thanks to you he’s gained a real proficiency in the social sciences and even tutors students himself.

“what about her?” he says in response, becoming increasingly annoyed at both the situation and his friends.

“she’s smart right?” gojo shrugs.

“why can’t you or nanami help me?” sukuna groans, ignoring gojo and facing his long haired friend. suguru was sat at his desk, minding his own business, finishing up the references for his essay.

“leave (name) out of this satoru,” suguru sighs, turning to face the two sat in his room and cracking his knuckles. “poor girls suffered enough at your hands.”

it’s true. gojo saw how introverted you were and personally made it his job to constantly mess with you. he revelled in your embarrassment and not knowing how to act, and quite frankly it was mean. everyone knew he wasn’t really interested in you and would get bored with teasing you soon enough, moving onto someone else. but your reactions were quite funny if they were being honest.

suguru was nice enough to you on his own, but never really spoke to you beyond a “hello”, gojo constantly bothered and teased you, whilst sukuna completely ignored you, forgetting you existed. out of the four nanami was the nicest, always respectful and dragging gojo away from you with an apology. the world needed more nanamis.

“you’re no fun suguru. you never cared before” gojo pouts. he suddenly sits up straighter, painting a smirk on his face as he realises something, “are you in loveeeee? does suguru have a crush on plain old (nameeeeee)?” he singsongs.

“you’re insufferable, and don’t be stupid satoru,” suguru fights back, already done with satoru’s nonsense. “she’s not my type anyway.”

sukuna hums, nodding, agreeing with the latter part of suguru’s statement. there was nothing extraordinary about you. your quiet nature somewhat irked him, and he didn’t understand why you were so shy. you were an adult for god’s sake, why didn’t you ever stand up for yourself. the more he thought about you the angrier he became so he made a point to ignore you.

“oi, getou, answer my question.”

suguru really needed to invest in a new lock or even just move dorms altogether so these two idiots wouldn’t bother him. he just wanted to submit his essay and lay down and scroll on his phone, maybe even have a nap.

“kento has a billion jobs and barely has time to study himself, and i don’t want to waste my energy on you,” suguru says, standing up and stretching, his hand dipping under his t-shirt to lightly scratch his stomach. he walks over to his mini fridge and gets a bottle of water out, pointing it at sukuna to emphasise his next words. “you’re hopeless.”

satoru laughs at the scowl on sukuna’s face and decides to take pity on him; uni would be considerably boring without him he supposes. he gets his phone out of his pocket and scrolls for a bit, grabbing sukuna’s phone when he’s found what he’s looking for and unlocks it. he types something into his phone and hands the pink-haired giant his phone back.

“there’s (name)’s number, ask her to help you. she’s too nice and too scared to say no to you anyways.”

sukuna really didn’t want you to be his tutor, he can’t imagine you being able to teach someone like him very well, but he has no other choice. unfortunately, most of the girls (and people in general) in his acquaintance aren’t really the smart and tutoring type. he takes his phone in his hand and stares at your contact details, debating on what to do.

he’ll message you later in the week, he thinks, slipping his phone into his pocket. but for now, he just wanted to take his mind off it.

bonus:

nanami walks up to his and suguru’s shared dorm, tired and so ready to collapse on his bed for a while before he works on finishing his assignment. it seemed like the world’s against him though as he can hear suguru and gojo arguing from outside. great, he thinks to himself. so much for relaxing.

today was not a good day. he was late to work, spilt boiling hot coffee on himself after a customer bumped into him and missed his bus home. his only saving grace was that you rushed to help him, guiding him to the bathroom and holding his arm as the water ran freely on him.

truthfully, he would’ve quit working at the coffee shop long ago, but after finding out you were a regular, he convinced himself to stay. he was busy juggling his second job and lectures and whatnot, so he didn’t get to see you often. plus, the pay wasn’t too bad for part time work, and the customers were generally quite nice.

(if we’re being frank, it was like any other normal job, but nanami needed something other than his infatuation with you to rationalise his behaviour).

nanami was ready to walk away and maybe beg you to let him stay with you for a couple of hours. you’d understand fully having interacted with gojo before, and maybe he’d have a chance to finally ask you out. but the sound of your name leaving gojo’s lips made him stop in his tracks.

his eyebrows furrowed deeply in confusion. gojo had your number? why on earth did gojo have your number? and why was he giving it to sukuna out of all people? and why does the thought of either of them texting you make him feel sick to his stomach.

© ffsg0jo 2024 — do not plagiarise, repost, modify, or translate any of my work, in any way shape or form; i will piss in your cereal if you do. all work belongs to me and me only.

[skzdarlings]

07. sharing a bed series ; skz ; seungmin

masterlist.

sharing a bed series part 7/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN. -

pairing: kim seungmin/reader content info: sexual content. enemies2lovers, sharing a bed trope. sassy bad girl reader, sassy good boy seungmin. handcuffed together trope. sex toys, blow jobs, strap-on blow jobs, handjobs, dick piercings, fake sex. lots of bickering, lots of moaning, lots of evil smirking hehe.

-

It takes about ten minutes to get through the doorway because neither you or Seungmin will concede ground.  With your right hand handcuffed to his left hand, your shoulder-to-shoulder breadth is too big for the doorframe. 

After some arguing, you face each other.  You are glaring the entire time but you manage to force your way into the bedroom. 

You can’t change clothes with the handcuffs so you head straight for the bed where you proceed to stumble around clumsily.  With some cussing and your failed attempt to put him in a headlock, you and Seungmin manage to get in bed. 

You lay on your backs with your handcuffed hands between you.

There is a minute of silence.   Everyone else went to bed hours ago so the vacation house is silent.   It’s just you and the most annoying man on earth, forcibly handcuffed together, stuck in the same bed.    

“My life is a joke,” you say. 

“Yeah,” Seungmin says.  “Your life is a joke.  Ow!”

He slaps your hand when you pinch his thigh and you smack his chin only for him to chomp at your fingers.  You both roll your eyes and look away from each other for all of ten seconds, then you glare at him and he gives you a judgemental stare. 

“How are you going to sleep like that?” he asks. 

You raise your joined hands, the chain jingling.   

“Wow, Seungmin, whatever do you mean?” you say dryly.     

“Wow, Seungmin, meh-meh-beh-beh,” he mocks your tone then uses his free hand to smack your arm.  It makes a crinkling sound when it collides with the leather jacket you can’t remove.  “I’m talking about the skinned cow on the cow.”

“Funny.”

“The skinned cow is the leather jacket.”

“I know that.”

“And you’re the other cow.”

“I got it, Seungmin.”

“Just checking,” he says with that blithe, shit-eating grin of his. “You’re just not very smart so I wanted to be nice and check.”   

This fucking guy.  

Kim Seungmin is the mouthiest smartass you have ever met.  A friend of your friends, the acquaintanceship has been forced on you for the sake of the overall friend group.   You two are like oil and water, completely incompatible in every way.  You are the denim-and-leather bad girl and he is the blazer-and-tie good boy.  Equally sassy, but astronomically apart in lifestyle.   You clashed from your first introduction. 

You can usually manage an hour or two of civility, especially if you stay out of each other’s way, but this vacation has pushed that strained dynamic to its breaking point. 

Changbin’s family owns a vacation house near a ski resort so your whole friend group is spending the winter holidays at the luxury cabin.  This means you and Seungmin have been forced to interact for much longer than a few hours. 

You expected some annoyance but Seungmin is an even bigger brat than you remembered.  You have already spent three days at each other’s throats.  Tonight you went to a party at the resort and the few hours away from him did wonders, but it only took one stupid remark for you start fighting all over again. 

You didn’t even have time to remove your boots or jacket.  With Seungmin, it was on sight. 

Fed-up, Minho leapt off the couch and disappeared into his bedroom.  The others were just groaning or slouched in their seats, shaking their heads at you and Seungmin.   You couldn’t stop if you wanted to, every dry remark needing a comeback, every insult escalating. 

Then Minho returned.  He yanked Seungmin out of his seat and practically threw him at you.   You should have let his stupid face hit the ground but your reflexes kicked in and you caught him in his flail.  There were a few seconds of confusion before Minho clasped the handcuffs around you.   The whole room went silent, you and Seungmin staring at the cuffs then looking at Minho. 

Minho dangled the keys in your face.  

“I will let you out of the handcuffs,” he spoke as if speaking to particularly stupid children, “when you overcome your differences and decide to stop ruining the holiday.”

You and Seungmin both sputtered in protest, but neither of you were brave enough to physically fight Minho for the keys.  That kitty has claws, mean ones.  Not even you mess with Lee Minho. 

Now you and Seungmin are stuck sharing a bed.  You are still fully dressed, in jeans, shirt, and leather jacket, whereas he was already dressed down in pyjama pants and a t-shirt.  All he has to do is remove his glasses and he’s fine to sleep. 

You, however, are dressed for a whole different kind of evening.

“Trust me,” you say with an aggrieved sigh, “the jacket is not the most uncomfortable thing I’m wearing.”

He pinches his glasses at the stem, wiggling them up-and-down like it will help him see better. 

“What do you mean?” he asks.  “Wait, you’re a freak, right?  Is it something kinky?”

He asks it mockingly but you smile and turn your face to him, lifting an eyebrow.  You get some satisfaction from the way his face contorts with realization.

“Wait, really?” he asks.  “What the hell.  Why?  What is it?”

“You sound curious.” 

You really can’t help but tease him, anticipating he will snap back with equal verve.  You are surprised when his remark gets tangled on his tongue, his mouth open with no reply.  The tips of his ears are faintly red. 

“Oh, you are curious,” you say.

“Gross, no way.”  He comes back to himself and scrunches his whole face with revulsion.  “Keep it to yourself.  Pervert.”

“Proudly.”

“Wow.”

You feel satisfied with the silence that follows, feeling like you finally won a conversation and sent him into a mute stupor.  But then he looks at you and you brace yourself for the incoming wave of irritation. 

“It’s not gonna suddenly go off or something, is it?” he asks.  “I don’t want to wake up to you thrashing around like a fish on a boat deck.”

“It’s a hard packer.  You know, a strap-on for wearing out?  A ready-to-go, signed-sealed-and-delivered dick?”  You list everything with the same pleasant smile.  “Big one too.” 

His face is perpetually frozen in a state of prepared ridicule so he still looks marginally judgemental, but more confused than repulsed. 

“Right now?” he says.  His eyes drift down to your jeans.  “You wore… you wore it out?”

“Brave new world, Seungminnie,” you say, the nickname making his eye twitch despite the sarcasm in it. 

“You’re lying,” he says.  He doesn’t wait for you to argue; he reaches with his cuffed hand to feel for extra weight between your legs.  It drags your own hand along with it, too surprised to react fast enough to stop him.  He finds what he was looking for, his brow furrowing when he closes his fist over the hard bulge under your fly.   “Whoa, wait, seriously?” 

“Dude!”  You pry his hand off, though he doesn’t go without a fight, patting it like it’s puppy.  “What the hell, man.  You can’t just grab someone’s dick like that.”

“Why not? It’s not real.”

“It is in a way!  I can still feel it!”

“You can?”  He pokes it.    

“Yes.” You swat him away.   “Depending on position.”     

“And you wore it to the party?” he says, then whistles low and shakes his head.  “Wow.  You have a high opinion of yourself.  Thought you were gonna get lucky?” 

“I did very well for myself, thanks.”

He holds up your cuffed hands with a sarcastic look of his own. 

“Not that well,” he says.  “Or you wouldn’t be here.” 

“I don’t tend to stay the night,” you say. 

“Love ‘em and leave ‘em,” he says.  “I should have known.”  He sighs as if disappointed in you. 

You barely register his retort, your brain jumping ahead a few paces.  

Walking around with ready-to-play silicone in your pants does have a tendency to leave you teetering on the side of horny, so maybe that’s why your brain is incapable of supplying another type of plan, but a plan begins to form nonetheless.

“I have an idea,” you say. 

“Breaking your wrist so you can slide out of the handcuffs?”

“Kim Seungmin, I’ll let you know that while I might have one hand out of commission, I am still capable of shoving your slipper in your mouth.” 

“Kim Seungmin, meh-meh-meh, beh-beh-beh.”

“Why do I even bother?”  You sigh.  “Do you wanna get out of these handcuffs or not?”

“Fine.”  He fiddles with his glasses and glares at you.  “I’m going to regret asking this, but what’s your idea?”

You sit up and nod your head towards the wall behind the headboard. 

“Minho’s room is on the other side of this wall, isn’t it?”  you ask.   

“Yes,” he replies, warily.  “Why?”

“Let’s pretend to have noisy sex.”

“What!”  He sits upright too, the cuffs jingling again.

“We can bang the headboard against the wall,” you add.

“What the hell is that supposed to accomplish, you idiot?”

“Two things,” you say.  “One: that we have clearly resolved our differences through the release of sexual tension.  And two: if we are exceptionally noisy about it, it will piss him off enough to want to separate us again.” 

“That is a terrible plan,” he says, which is not a rejection.  “Besides there’s no sexual tension between us.  There’s no way he’d believe it.”

“Well then,” you say, leaning closer to his face, “you better put on a believable performance to make up for it, hm?” 

You expected him to lean back but he didn’t move, so you find yourself nose-to-nose and locked in a staring contest.  It is so quiet that you can hear every intake of breath.   His gaze goes from your eyes to your lap and back again, jaw clenching.

“Fine,” he says.  “I’m only willing to try because I’d rather chew off my hand than spend the night with you—”

“I mean, you can try that too,” you say. 

“Shut up.”  He grabs the collar of your jacket and jerks you around.  “Just get down.”

“Uh, get down?” You push when you realize he is trying to wrestle you onto your back.  You lift your joined hands off the bed so he loses his balance.  “You get down. I’m on top.”

“Can you relax?” he says, scrambling back upright.  “We’re not actually having sex, you uptight weirdo.”    

“Yeah, but do you think those skinny arms can push this headboard against the wall?”

“I think these skinny arms can push you off the bed.” 

“I think those skinny arms will find themselves following.” 

You tussle for a good minute, pushing at each other’s faces and tugging each other’s shirts.  Your physical strength overpowers his but he isn’t hindered by a stupid leather jacket.   Already a bit sweaty and exhausted, you surrender with an aggravated huff. 

“Fine, try it then,” you say, flopping on your back.  You stubbornly cross your arms, trapping his cuffed hand in your arm. 

“Let me go,” he says, trying to wrest his arm back. 

“I’m not doing anything.  Ahh, stop that!”

He tires to lick you.  Tongue out, he dives at your head.  He only stops when you snatch his glasses off his face, at which point he climbs on top of you to try and grab them back. 

“Stop it. This is so immature,” he says, stretching to reach your own outstretched arm.

“Immature?” you ask, aghast.  “You were trying to lick me!”

“That was different.”

“How?”  

“Because you suck,” he says. 

He manages to get his glasses back.  He sticks out his tongue as he puts them on his face. 

You tussle a little more, shuffling around and swiping at each other.  Eventually you get to the middle of the bed with him still straddling your hips.  Your cuffed arm lifts when he grips the headboard with both hands.  He strains for one pitiful push.  His hair bounces but the headboard barely hits the wall. 

You lift an eyebrow. 

“Shut up,” he says.

“I didn’t say anything,” you reply.

“I can hear your ugly face.”

“That’s a you problem.”

He ignores you and braces himself to push on the headboard again.  All the beds are extravagantly woodworked pieces, the headboards dense and heavy.  Despite the proximity to the wall, you are not surprised it takes effort to actually make the bed bounce.  

Seungmin, to his credit, does not give up easily.  He braces his shoulders, but this time when he pushes he rocks with his whole body.  

Unfortunately, this does drag almost all his weight against the toy in your pants.  You are wearing the kind of underwear designed to support a toy, the base of it separated from your clit by only a strip of fabric.  When he rocks against you, it grinds there, and your hands instinctively fly to grab his hips.

It knocks him a bit off balance because your cuffed hand drags his down too.  He puts that hand over yours, cupped around his hip, and glares down at you. 

“What the hell was that?” he asks. 

You let go of his hips immediately. 

“Nothing,” you say.

He looks at you with a scrutinizing eye, then looks down, then up again.   You hold his gaze unflinchingly, at least until he rocks again and a little spark of heat goes off inside you. 

“Can you feel that?” he asks.  He asks it matter-of-factly, peering down at you from behind his big round glasses, sitting comfortably in his stupid pyjamas. 

“Yes,” you speak in as steady a voice as you can, because you will not show weakness first.   “There are only a couple positions where I can feel it strongly.  This… is… one of them.” 

“Wow,” he says.  He looks genuinely reflective for a minute, then he grins one of his evil grins.  “So… you can feel when I do this?”  He puts his free hand on the middle of your chest and leans forward so he grinds against you at a different angle, his own bulge pushing against yours. 

“Ohmyff—”  You grab his hips again, freezing him while he snickers above you.  “Dude.” 

“Just checking,” he says.  He grabs the headboard and pushes again.  The thud is a soft one. 

You clench your jaw, annoyed and wound up.  You grab his waist and roll over in one fluid motion, knocking some wind out of him when you thump him on his back.   His thighs clench instinctively to hold onto your hips, his legs still around your waist when you grab the headboard and shove it several times in a row.  

His cuffed arm is above his head, hand dangling under your grip on the headboard.  His glasses are askew from the flip, his legs still open around yours.  He stares at you, however crookedly through the tilted glasses.  Your breathing is heavy in the quiet room.  He swallows.

You break the silence with a pointed, “Well?”

“Well, what?” he asks just as roughly. 

“Moan or yell or something.  Whatever you normally do in bed.”

“I’m normally quiet.”

“I find that hard to believe,” you say dryly.  “Since that mouth never stops.”  

“Why don’t you moan?” 

“Because I’m in charge of bed pushing.”  To make your point, you rock the bed some more, pushing slightly against him with the motion.  The headboard hits the wall for a few rhythmic thumps. 

He fixes his glasses with his free hand, still frowning at you.  That hand freezes on his glasses when you shrug your coat off your free arm, too hot to keep wearing it.  It will only get caught on the handcuffs if you push it down the other arm so you leave it hanging off your shoulder.  You put your hand back on the headboard, muscles flexing with the next shove.   His eyes go to your arm. 

“Well?” you say.  

He looks at you.  It’s a cold, unfeeling stare, followed by an annoyed puff of a breath. 

Then he makes a sound, a small, rough moan in the back of his throat.   You are certain only you can hear it.   He looks right at you while doing it, legs still accommodating your shape, on his back with an open mouth while glaring at you despite the noises.

It is, in a word, hot.  Hot as fucking hell.  Oh god.  You are not getting turned on by Kim Seungmin.  Absolutely not. 

He moans again, closing his eyes and shifting with the next push, as if he can really feel it.   He cants his hips and falls back again.  He moans one more time.

Ah, you think.  Fuck. 

You stop shoving the bed for a second, breathless and not from exertion. 

You clear your throat.  Seungmin is still staring at you.  You stare back, then your gaze drifts.  The leather jacket starts to slip down your shoulder so you tug it back up.  You gulp. 

“You’re hard,” you say, a very basic observation.  His soft pyjama pants leave little to the imagination.

He drops his legs from around your waist, but you are between his thighs so he can’t quite close them.  He plants his feet on the bed and glares up at you. 

“So are you,” he says.

“Mine’s not real,” you say.  

“Ohh, so now it’s not real?”  He rolls his eyes.  “Sorry, I can’t keep up with Schrodinger’s dick.” 

“You know what I mean, smartass.”  

“If anything yours is more real,” he says.  “Your dick is more deliberate than mine.  I can’t control my hard-on but you put one there on purpose.” 

That logic is a weirdly difficult to argue.  You try to think of a witty comeback but your brain is more than a little fried. 

“So,” is all you say, at a loss. 

He stares up at you for another second, then pushes himself upright.  You let his cuffed hand lead yours, at least until you realize he is bringing his hands to the button of your jeans.  You seize his cuffed hand and tug it away. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask.

“What do you think I’m doing?” he asks contemptuously.  He even snarls. 

Despite the viciousness, he dives in without waiting for an answer.  He uses his free hand as a guide, but otherwise he leans forward and clamps his teeth around the button.  He works it open quickly, then takes the zipper in his mouth and yanks it down. 

You let go of his hand, surprised.  He uses both hands to fish the toy out of your pants. 

He balks at it. 

“You walked around with this all night?” he asks, looking up at you. 

Fuck.  It is literally right by his face.  It looks obscene.  Your figures twitch with the urge to cup his chin. 

“Yes,” you answer in a low voice.  “It’s my preferred method of, uh, action.”

“Action,” he repeats, smiling like the word is a hilarious punchline.  He even cackles a little.  “Action,” he repeats.  “Not ‘making love?’”  His tone is drole. 

“Not really the making love type,” you say. 

“Wow,” he says.  His eyes flick to your toy dick, just millimeters from his face.  He pushes his glasses up his nose.  He glances up at you with that evil smile.   “Same,” he says. 

Then suddenly he has his mouth wrapped around the end of it, looking up at you as he sucks on it. 

For a second, you think you have gone completely insane, because you swear you can feel it.  Your clit and pussy and every other body part rears to life with sudden, unbidden arousal. 

“Jesus fucking—” you start.

He pops off your dick with a wet sound.   He licks his lips. 

“Hmm,” he says, eying it thoughtfully.  “Tastes funny.   Could you feel that?”

“Kinda,” you squeak.  “In a way.”

“Got it.” 

Is this even turning him on?  His dick is filling out his pyjama pants so you think so, but he is also approaching the entire thing like it can be hacked through a scientific algorithm.   He studies the toy with a lot of scrutiny, as if he is calculating the mechanics of it. 

“You don’t have to—” you start, but then suddenly his mouth is back on the end of it, his free hand is in the middle of it, and he is pushing it back against you, clearly having figured out you can feel the part against your clit.  He grinds it there, up and down, bobbing his head and staring up at you. 

It is usually fairly difficult to reach orgasm this way but he takes you the edge in an almost terrifying speed run, then abruptly stops.  He takes in a deep breath, a huge wad of spit connecting his lips to the end of the toy.

“Did that do something?” he asks, wiping his mouth. 

Your jacket slips down your arm and catches on the handcuffs.  You stare at him.

“Uhhh…” you say, voice guttural.  “Yes.” 

He grins, looking immensely satisfied with himself. 

“That wasn’t so hard,” he says.  “I thought it would be more complicated.  I’m guessing gravity works in your favour when someone sits on it?” 

Yes, that is your brain spilling out of your ear in a big, mushy goop. 

“Uh, yeah,” you say.  “Yeah.”  What the fuck else are you supposed to say? 

He suddenly narrows his eyes at you, his regard suspicious even while he starts jerking the toy with his free hand. 

“How do I know you’re not lying?” 

You show him the only way that makes sense, leading his cuffed hand to your pants and nudging the toy aside so he can slip his fingers past it.  He freezes completely when he feels how turned on you are, looking up at you as he returns his now wet fingers to himself. 

“Oh,” he says.  He looks at his fingertips.  “I see.” 

Then he grins at you and puts his fingers in his mouth. 

“Right,” you say.  “Got it.” 

You grab him and put him on his back again, reaching immediately for his waistband.  You have barely grasped the material when you are suddenly shoved back, his foot planted squarely in the middle of your chest. 

“Slippers first,” he says.  

He is just being difficult.  You know that, but you indulge the little brat anyway, glaring at him while removing his stupid slipper.  You toss it behind you and he switches feet, shoving his other one in the same spot.  He smiles at you, leaning back on his elbows at tapping his slippered toes against your heart.   You shake your head but remove that one too.  Before he can try any more funny business, you grab him under the knee and push his knees back to his chest.  His glasses slip a little again.  His cuffed hand can’t leave yours, hooked under his knee, so his free hand awkwardly reaches up to fix them. 

“Careful,” he says, like you’ve been the unreasonable one in any way, shape, or form. 

“I’ll try,” you say dryly, then reach for his waistband. 

You get the material barely shuffled past his hips when your jaw falls open. 

“Hold on,” you say, fingers reaching for his twitching dick.   “No way.  No way.” 

Kim Seungmin.  Blazer-and-tie good boy.  Pristine socialite.   Arrogant snob.   High society darling.   Spoiled brat.  Good boy.  Good boy.   Good boy. 

He has a classically beautiful piercing on the head of his dick. 

He opens his mouth to speak, his expression revealing it is about to be some mouthy retort, but it turns into a gasp when you run your thumb up and over, teasing at it, gathering a not-inconsiderable amount of precum and stroking the whole length of him. 

“Aren’t you pretty,” you say, circling the most sensitive cluster of nerves with your thumb.   It makes his thighs twitch and his shoulders shake. 

“S-surprised?” he asks. 

“Honestly, yeah,” you admit. 

He looks very satisfied with that, grinning at you.  That evil smile drives you crazy so you flash a grin of your own then dive down. 

His fake moans were pretty close to his real ones, but his real ones are louder as you expected.  He has to bite his fist to keep the sound down.  You rise, wiping at your mouth and glaring at him. 

“Louder,” you say.  “Remember?”

“Oh, right.”  He drops his hand.  “Your stupid plan.  Okay.  Continue.”  He waves you onward like a prince, thumping his head back on the pillows. 

He is so annoying.  He really does have a pretty dick, though.  Drawing real moans out of him is more fun than arguing over fake ones, and he makes some exceptionally lovely sounds when you put your mouth on him.  He starts gasping when he gets close, his face scrunching up, but he grabs your head and stops before he gets there fully. 

You look at him with a questioning eyebrow lift but move when he nudges you.  He gets on his knees so you are kneeling in front of each other, then he guides your hand back to his dick at the same time he curls his fingers around the base of your toy.  

Your eyes are heavy-lidded and your mouths are close together but not touching.  It feels like another contest, to see who will give in and kiss the other person first, even while your hands are way past that stage. 

Fuck it, you think when he gets a bit whiny, breathing hard against your lips.  You clasp your free hand around his neck and drag him close for a kiss.  It makes him come, his back locking and mouth opening under yours.  He wouldn’t be Seungmin if he didn’t try and turn a kiss into a fight, licking at you with messy intensity.  The rapid back-and-forth of his tongue coupled with his skilled hand takes you over the edge too. 

You get a bit euphorically giggly when you come, smiling against his mouth. 

Seungmin turns unexpectedly clingy, putting his free arm around your neck and burying his face in your shoulder.  He holds so tightly that you fall, flopping onto the bed with him still nestled against you.  

You lay there for a bit, him still hiding, your heavy breathing slowing to a more normal cadence.  Eventually he lifts his head and exhales.  He adjusts his crooked glasses then grins. 

“I won,” he says.

“You can’t win at sex,” you reply.

“Yes you can, and I just did.  Don’t be a sore loser.”

“Oh my god.” 

Your exchange passes with far less animosity than usual.  You still side-eye each other while dealing with your respective dicks.  It’s a little easier for him to pull up his pants one-handed than it is for you to wrestle a toy out of an O-ring, but you do succeed.  You let it roll off the edge of the bed, watching and listening as it thumps onto the floor. 

You look over Seungmin who was watching too.  When you make eye contact, you both start laughing.  It turns the whole scene into an unusually affectionate one.  Figuring you might as well commit, you hold his cuffed hand in your own.  He rolls closer, eying you with those perpetually mischievous eyes.

Then suddenly the bedroom door flies open.  It smashes into the wall, startling both of you. 

Minho walks up to the bed and chucks the keys at you, glares, then turns and leaves the room.  He slams the door shut behind him. 

You and Seungmin look at each other then down at the keys. 

“Told you,” you say. 

“Don’t rub it in.”

“Don’t be a sore loser.”

He licks your cheek unprompted, then unlocks the cuffs while you complain and wipe your face.  It has you so distracted that you are a second too late realizing he has another dastardly plan in mind. 

Your wrist is still cuffed.  He takes the now empty half and clasps it around one of the intricate loops in the headboard.   You tug on it then look at him. 

“Kim Seungmin,” you say. 

“Kim Seungmin,” he repeats in that mocking voice, grinning as he climbs up over you. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask, trying not to smile at his wicked grin as he starts kissing under your chin and down your chest.

“What do you think I’m doing?” he asks.  “I’m winning.”

You decide not to argue for once.   It goes without saying you both won this round. 

[queenshelby]

ONE SHOT: THE CASTING COUCH

PART ONE OF THE DARK & SEXY SERIES

NOTE: This is a series of one shots and mini series for Cillian Murphy & Tommy Shelby in which he acts totally off-canon. Most of these shots are very dark in nature and you should read their individual warnings. All of these shots are requests from readers. Co-written with @darkshelbyfiction

PAIRING: CILLIAN MURPHY X VIRGIN READER

WARNING: DUB-CON, BLACKMAIL, LOSS OF VIRGINITY

"Thank you for coming over Cillian, and for helping me out with my rehearsals," you said after opening the door for him. You hesitated, your eyes glancing at the untidy mess strewn around, hoping he wouldn't notice how disorganized you were. You were still young and inexperienced when it came to acting and life in general and had recently finished filming your first movie under Cillian's guidance.

"No problem, Y/N," Cillian replied smoothly, stepping inside your apartment with a confident swagger. "I was looking forward to it," he told you and you nodded silently, forcing out a smile.

"Great! Well, let me just clear up a bit of space here," you murmured, quickly moving clutter off your couch and onto the floor.

You noticed that Cillian took note of this odd behavior, raising an eyebrow curiously. His gaze lingered on your body, taking in every curve and line.

"You know you've got a lot of competition to get this role," he stated matter-of-factly. It sounded like advice rather than a threat, but there was something strange about his tone.

"I know," you mumbled back, shifting uncomfortably on your feet. "I'm willing to do whatever it takes, Cillian," you told him and he smiled, the corners of his lips quirking upwards slightly. 

"Whatever it takes, huh?" Cillian mused thoughtfully, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face. His touch was gentle, almost tender, and you could feel your skin tingle beneath his fingers.

"Yeah, I really want this part," you admitted quietly, meeting his gaze directly with your big eyes. There was something magnetic and yet uneasy about his presence, drawing you in despite your better judgment.

"Well, I can help you with that," Cillian offered with a knowing grin. "But I need something in return," he added, his voice dropping low to a husky whisper.

You swallowed hard, feeling a wave of trepidation wash over you. "What do you mean by that?" you asked innocently, squirming under his steady gaze. 

"Come on Y/N, you are a smart girl, aren't you?" Cillian asked with a playful smirk. "I am sure you know what I want," he continued, running his fingers through your soft hair.

Your heart raced in your chest as you struggled to find the right words. "Look, Cillian, I appreciate you giving me this opportunity, but I don't think I can go there," you finally managed to say.

His eyes narrowed slightly, assessing your resolve. "You know that roles like these don't come along often, especially when you're starting out in this business," he explained coolly. "It's all about connections. And trust me," Cillian said, his voice dropping even lower—a soft purr against your ear, "I have plenty of those." 

"I will touch you, down there, if you like, but I won't sleep with you. I never had sex before, so..." You hesitated, unsure how to express yourself. Your voice trembled as you tried to maintain composure. "I mean, I am not ready and..." you suggested cautiously.

Cillian's gaze intensified, locking onto yours as he interrupted you mid-sentence. 

"Y/N, I want to fuck you properly," Cillian explained calmly, watching your reaction carefully. "You either take it or leave it," he whispered softly, leaning closer. "But if you want to have this role, then you'll have to make some sacrifices."

The air between you felt thick and heavy, charged with an electric tension neither of you dared to confront. Cillian was older, far more experienced in both acting and life, but there was something that made you feel uneasy about his request, despite your attraction towards him.

"But I have never done anything like this before," you insisted feebly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not ready," you pleaded, clinging onto hope that he would relent.

"I didn't ask if you were ready," Cillian retorted sharply, his eyes flashing dangerously. "I asked if you wanted the role," he reminded you coldly, crossing his arms defensively.

"Yes, I do," you agreed hurriedly, eager to appease him.

"Good, then we understand each other," Cillian said confidently, stepping closer. "Now I will try to make this as comfortable for you as I possible can," he promised, his voice low and soothing. "Take off your clothes," he then commanded abruptly, staring intently at you.

You hesitated, biting your lip nervously. The silence hung heavily between you two, making your palms sweat. But the prospect of achieving your dream outweighed any doubts or fears you may have had. So without further hesitation, you began undressing, shedding layer after layer until only your panties remained.

Cillian watched your transformation with rapt attention, his gaze lingering on your exposed flesh. His eyes gleamed with lustful desire, sending shivers down your spine.

You stood naked before him, completely vulnerable, as he appraised your curves and lines.

"Such a beautiful young woman," he muttered, admiring your form. "You're perfect for this role and many others, if you play your cards right."

He stepped closer, reaching out to trace a finger along your collarbone. You flinched slightly, bracing yourself for what was to come.

"Relax, darling," he cooed, his voice deepening. "I will be gentle with you."

He placed a strong hand on your shoulder, guiding you gently backwards until you reached the edge of your study desk, the wood now pressing into your lower back. 

You felt nervous, his proximity threatening to overwhelm you.

"Just relax, Y/N," he reassured you, his voice a soothing balm to your anxious nerves. "We're going to take things slow, okay?" He reached down and scooped you up in his arms, placing you delicately upon the desk. Your knees wobbled with uncertainty, but you forced yourself to stay upright.

Cillian stepped away, leaving you in nothing but your panties. His eyes trailed over your entire body, scrutinizing your vulnerability.

"Sit up straight," he instructed firmly, reaching out to adjust your posture. You complied obediently, clutching the tabletop tightly.

"Don't worry," he consoled you, his voice calm and collected. "This will hurt a little, but everything will be fine." You looked doubtful, swallowing a lump in your throat. But you knew you couldn't turn back now.

As he moved closer, you saw his eyes sparkle mischievously. "Lets take a look at this little virgin hole of yours, shall we?" Cillian murmured, trailing a finger along your inner thigh. You instinctively jerked away, causing him to chuckle.

"No need to be shy, love," he teased, reaching out again to stroke your knee. You didn't respond, instead opting to close your eyes, focusing on breathing deeply.

"Alright, alright," Cillian sighed, removing his hand. "Why don't you lay back for me, baby?" Cillian says, his voice thick with seduction. 

You gulp, your palms sweating profusely now. The anticipation builds within you, and fear mixed with excitement dances across your veins. Despite the situation, you can't deny the urge to surrender to Cillian's will. To submit completely to his desires. After all, you remind yourself, this is your ticket to stardom.

"Are you sure about this?" Cillian asks, concern etching his features. "You know I would never force you, Y/N."

"I know," you reply weakly, mustering a thin smile. "It's just that I-- I've never, uh, I am nervous," you murmured. 

"I know," Cillian murmurs, reaching out to cup your cheek before running his fingers over your stomach, stopping again at the hem of your cotton panties. 

Hooking his fingers into the hem, Cillian pulled them downwards, exposing your most intimate area to his hungry gaze.

A groan escaped him as he stared hungrily at your swollen pussy, nestled between smooth thighs. "So fucking gorgeous," he breathed reverently, reaching out to trace your slit delicately.

"And so small," he chuckled, his fingertip circling your entrance. "But don't worry, I will manage to work my cock into you, baby," he assured you, his tone laced with confidence. Your breath hitched, the anticipation mounting within you. "You see, I've been waiting for this moment ever since I laid eyes on you," he confessed, stroking your cheek lovingly. Your heart pounded in your chest, the thrill of being desired by such an experienced man overwhelming you. "In fact, I've fantasized about you countless times," he whispered, leaning in closer.

"My cock is already throbbing with anticipation, imagining your tight pussy wrapped around it." He ran a finger down your belly, tracing the path it would soon follow. 

Cillian then reached for the pocket of his jeans to retrieve a condom, which he placed onto the desk beside you before unbuckling his belt.

He then slid his pants down, revealing an impressive erection, rock-hard and ready for action. 

Leaking pre-cum, it stood tall and proud, a testament to his arousal. You couldn't help but stare at it, mesmerized and concerned all at the same time. 

"I don't know..." you started to stammer, but Cillian put a finger against your lips.

"Shh," he hushed. "It will only hurt for a moment. I promise," he told you as he picked up the condom and opened the wrapper.

As he rolled it onto his throbbing member, you couldn't help but glance at that massive erection standing erect, a symbol of raw masculinity. It seemed almost intimidating and you closed your eyes, overwhelmed by the intensity of this situation. You knew what was expected of you, but somehow the reality of submitting to Cillian scared you.

"Open your legs for me, sweetheart," Cillian said softly, interrupting your thoughts. He reached out to pull you open, spreading your bare thighs apart to reveal your moistened folds. You whimpered, arching your back involuntarily as he touched you. 

"You've got a tight little hole, haven't you?" he commented casually, brushing aside your tears with callous indifference. "It's good though—it means you're going to feel every inch of me," he added.

"Just relax, Y/N," he urged you once more, positioning himself between your legs. You shut your eyes some more, concentrating on slowing your racing heartbeat when you felt the head of his cock press against your wetness.

"I'm going to enter you now, baby," he murmured before slowly pushing the tip of his cock inside you. You gasped loudly, squeezing your eyes shut as the burning sensation spread throughout your body.

"Ssh, it's alright. Just let me in," Cillian murmured. You let out a yelp as he pushed harder, your eyes widening in shock as he stretched you. 

"You're doing great," Cillian encouraged you, easing the head of his cock deeper into you while looking down in between your bodies, enjoying the sight of his cock slowly opening you up.

"The head is in," he whispered triumphantly, watching the initial resistance crumble before the persistent pressure of his manhood. "Now, I'm about to stretch you out some more," he warned, the anticipation building with every word.

You writhed helplessly on the desk, your eyes squeezed shut, your grip tightening on the wooden surface beneath you.

"Just breathe," Cillian comforted you, his fingers caressing your cheek. "It's going to burn for a second, but it'll pass," he promised, his tone soothing.

You took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of his shaft sliding inside you as he inched forward. Each thrust drove deeper, stretching you wider. The pain was intense, but you bit your lip to hold back your groans. 

"That's it, baby," he praised. "You're doing great. Just a few more inches and I'll be fully inside you," he told you, his eyes locked on yours. "Can you feel it? My cock stretching you wider with each push," he whispered, his voice sending chills down your spine. "That's right, baby," he encouraged you, watching as the muscles of your vagina contracted around his shaft. "Just a little more," he growled, his movements becoming more forceful.

His cock felt huge inside you, filling you up entirely as he took your innocence, the head of his cock hitting your cervix with each thrust.

"You feel so good," he moaned, his cock twitching in response to your tightness. "I could cum right now," he groaned, grinding his hips against yours before pulling out abruptly. "But I want to enjoy this for a little longer. Turn around," Cillian demanded, reaching out to spin you around on the desk.

"I want to fuck you from behind," he said before thrusting his length back into you. "Spread your legs wider," he ordered, and you did as he asked, your cheeks reddening from embarrassment as he increased his pace. 

Cillian's cock throbbed inside you, filling you up completely. He withdrew a little, teasing you with shallow thrusts. "Mmm," he moaned approvingly, running his hands up and down your body. "You're so hot like this," he whispered, pulling on your nipples roughly while watching his cock plunge in and out of your swollen pussy. "I can tell you're getting used to me," he observed, grabbing your ass and pulling you closer, impaling you on his erection. "Getting tighter, too," he noted, grinning wickedly. "It's like you're trying to squeeze me," he joked, bucking his hips wildly until he was balls-deep inside you.

"Fuck!" he shouted, his cock throbbing painfully. "I might cum too quick," he muttered, grabbing your waist tightly.

"I've been thinking about this for so long," he confessed, his breath hot and heavy in your ear.

"Such a good girl," he rasped, thrusting deeper into you. "Tighter than I imagined," he groaned, digging his fingers into your hips. "I bet you're going to be a real star one day," he praised, slamming into you harder. "This isn't going to be easy, Y/N," he warned, his voice strained. "But I've got faith in you," he said, punctuating each word with a brutal thrust before pulling out abruptly and ordering you onto your knees. 

"You are going to swallow my load now, baby," he barked, your ears ringing with the harsh command. "If you want to become a star, that is," he added ominously, pulling off the condom and then holding his cock firmly in his fist while he guided it toward your mouth.

"Oh no, please," you begged, shaking your head in protest.

"Open up," Cillian ordered sternly, guiding your jaw wide while aiming his cock at your mouth. He then shoved his cock into your mouth, gagging you instantly.

"Good girl," he said gruffly, his fingers gripping your chin tightly. You whimpered, unable to speak as he fucked your mouth mercilessly.

"I am going to pour my seed right down your throat now," he ordered, his voice muffled by your gag reflex as he started to groan loudly. "Here it comes," he announced, his cock swelling and pulsing with pleasure as he released his load directly into your mouth.

You gagged inadvertently, your eyes watering from the sudden influx of semen as you swallowed his essence and, going by the sounds he made, he was clearly pleased by your efforts.

"That's good. Drink my seed," he grunted, withdrawing his cock from your mouth. "Swallow it all down," he ordered, watching you struggle to catch your breath.

"Fucking fantastic," he then complimented, patting your head affectionately. "There's a good girl," he cooed, handing you a wad of tissues to clean off before pulling up his pants. 

"Now, we start shooting next week," he informed you, checking his watch. "You did well, but I really got to run," he grinned, kissing your forehead lightly. "I'll text you our schedule tomorrow," he confirmed before saying his farewell. 

[soular-sisters]

Your Moon Sign & Your Mama: Mother's Day Edition 💐

hi guysss!! happy mothers day to all the beautiful mamas out there. 💗 in honor of mothers day, i did a lil series on how each sign finds deep connection to their mother.

to those who don't know, the moon sign in a person's chart shows not only their emotional & deepest side, but it also shows their relationship with their maternal figure. the moon very simply equals "the mother".

🤱 Aries Moon: “my mother is so strong.”

*having an aries moon means it is likely that you see your mom as a very strong & dominant figure in your life.

*it is likely you’ve always looked up to your mother’s strength, resilience, boss energy, & ability to get through any hardship.

*you may see your mother as being a little too aggressive or domineering at times, but it is important to remember through the hard times, your mother loves you fiercely.

**best ways to connect with your mom: enjoy a passionate debate, go out to do a fun physical activity, stand up for her when she needs you, & remind your mom of her strength through it all.

🤱 Taurus Moon: “my mother is so loyal.”

*with a taurus moon, it is likely that your mom is a very loyal & solid figure in your life.

*your mother is probably loving, practical, grounded, & an amazing provider as a parent.

*you may see your mom's stability & loving qualities to be sustaining to your soul. it is possible your mom may be a bit stubborn & uncompromising at times. regardless, her love for you shows through it all.

**best ways to connect with your mom: cook a yummy meal together, talk about fond family memories, buy her a bouquet of flowers to show your love, & remind her how consistent she’s been in your life.

🤱 Gemini Moon: “my mother is so funny.”

*being a gemini moon, your mom is likely intelligent & filled with silly stories.

*it is likely your mother’s best qualities is her humor, multifaceted personality, her colorful mind, & wonderful anecdotes.

*on the downside, your mom may be a little inconsistent or unreliable at times. but her love for you is there regardless of inconsistencies.

**best ways to connect with your mom: listen to her funny stories, play a fun board game together, watch movies you both love, & remind her how valuable her humorous mind is.

🤱 Cancer Moon: “my mother is so nurturing.”

*as a cancer moon, it is likely your mom has always been a caring & compassionate figure in your life.

*your mom’s best qualities is likely her sweetness, her caregiving nature, her softheartedness, & the overflowing love she’s shown you.

*at the worst of times, your mother may be moody & a bit overemotional. but her love for you has never been in question.

**best ways to connect with your mom: look at family photo albums together, treat yourselves to a nice spa day, gift her a nice piece of jewelry, & remind her what an amazing nurturer she is.

🤱 Leo Moon: “my mother is so passionate.”

*having a leo moon means your mother is likely fierey & outgoing.

*it is likely your mom is a loud, proud, independent, & charismatic mother filled with life.

*at her low points, she may be dramatic & over the top. but no matter how performative she can be, she loves you as passionately as possible.

**best ways to connect with your mom: go watch your favorite theatrical play together, listen to her talk about her latest drama of the moment, take her on a shopping spree, & remind her how beautiful her heart is.

🤱 Virgo Moon: “my mother is so intelligent.”

*with a virgo moon, it is likely your mother is a logical & practical figure in your life.

*your mom’s best qualities are likely her analytical abilities, intelligence, her organizational skills, & her ability to be a smart caregiver for others.

*at times, she may be a little bit of a perfectionist & an overthinker, but no matter what her love for you is without question.

**best ways to connect with your mom: have an intelligent conversation with her, engage in a brain game together, gift her a self-care gift to help her unwind, & remind her of her brilliance.

🤱 Libra Moon: “my mother is so beautiful.”

*as a libra moon, it is likely your mother is someone filled with love & beauty.

*your mother is likely charming, flirtatious, has great taste, & is sociable.

*at her worst, she may be a little superficial or overly friendly, but her loving heart has always loved your dearly.

**best ways to connect with your mom: take her to a lovely social gathering, treat her to get a beauty treatment, compliment her beautiful style, & remind her how gorgeous she is inside and out.

🤱 Scorpio Moon: “my mother is so deep.”

*being a scorpio moon, it is likely you see your mother as a very raw & real figure in your life.

*your mother’s redeeming qualities are likely her honesty, deepness, unbreakable loyalty, & strength through hardship.

*in dark times, your mom may be a little intense & overbearing, but you know with her intensity that her love for you is unshakable.

**best ways to connect with your mom: open up to her about hardships, take her on a private retreat, always be real with her, & remind her how her realness is cherished.

🤱 Sagittarius Moon: “my mother is so fun.”

*with a sagittarius moon, your mother is likely adventurous & a free-spirit.

*your mom’s best qualities is likely her youthful spirit, her taste for fun, her great sense of humor, & her openness to trying new things.

*at low moments, she may be a little out of control or wild to a fault, but her love for her remains in her spirit.

**best ways to connect with your mom: go on a fun adventure with her, try new foods you’ve never had before, embrace her wild spirit, & remind her how precious her adventurous heart is to you.

🤱 Capricorn Moon: “my mother is so hardworking.”

*as a capricorn moon, your mother is most likely a diligent & grounded figure in your life.

*at her best, your mom is probably consistent, determined, ethical, & always working to improve herself.

*in bad moments, your mom may be a person of tough love & little overly concerned with money. no matter the bad, her love for you in unquestionable.

**best ways to connect with your mom: talk to her about self-improvement, take her on a fancy dinner date, ask her about her goals, & remind her how her hard work never goes unnoticed.

🤱Aquarius Moon: “my mother is so unique.”

*being an aquarius moon, your mom is likely an innovative & one of a kind type of mother.

*your mom’s best attributes are likely her independence, her futuristic mind, her unconventional style, & her sharp intelligence.

*her unfavorable moments may be her unchangeableness & being emotionally distant at times. no matter what, her love for you is deep in her heart.

**best ways to connect with your mom: talk with her about new technology, explore new ways to do things, go stargazing, & remind her of how her independence makes her beautiful.

🤱 Pisces Moon: “my mother is so spiritual.”

*as a pisces moon, your mother is likely a kind & empathetic soul.

*your mother’s best features are likely her sensitive heart, her connection to the spiritual realm, her silliness, & her sweet temperament.

*at worst moments, she may be vulnerable to harshness & overwhelmed with emotion. but there is no question she loves you deeply.

**best ways to connect with your mom: talk about the spiritual side of life, share deep spiritual practices together, do a creative activity together, & remind her of how kindhearted she is.

happy mothers day to all who celebrates. 🤍

xoxo -A.A.

IG: @dredivinecreates 🤍 i would appreciate all your support. thank you so much!

[mitsua]

HELLOO!! I love your writing style sm I just had to requesttt😭😭💖 Can you do angsty middleschool!Izuku x Popular!Fem!Reader? Like reader is literally so popular because of intelligence, her quirk, whatnot. A lot of suitors but she still chose to date that quirkless, squirming boy 😭‼️ Lots of people start to mean-eye Izuku cause what did you do to get a girl like her?? what?? So Izuku starts to distance himself but reader is so clingy and whenever he distances himself, reader only gets more bothersome and attached to him so he "snaps" to make reader distance herself cause he's afraid that her reputation will drop because of him. This was before he met all might btw!! What would be the aftermath?

Thank you so much for saying that you precious story!!! I'm so glad you requested too!! Such a thrilling and angsty idea, I love it! Hope I fulfill your expectations!

Your true feelings

Warnings: bullies, mentions of self-depricating thoughts, low self-steem, crying, shouting, fighting (verbally), if I missed any please let me know!

Genre: angst Series: Boku No Hero Academia

Pairing: Izuku Midoriya × FEM! Y/N Words' count: 2.91k

Izuku liked you, he really did. He'd made it clear the day he decided to dump on you all about how he felt about you and since that moment on you've started a romantic relation. One that he couldn't be happier with.

You were simply everything he didn't even know he was searching for—you were cheerful, smart, strong, you were almost everything—he loved it, he loved you.

By simply being yourself with a bit more of carefulness towards him you've managed to make him fall harder for you every time.

You ask how he's doing every morning just as you enter the classroom and see him there, you make sure no one else can hear when he wants to talk about his struggles, you prepare his lunch sometimes too—with you, he can talk so easily about his interests he forgets about everything going around you two and gets mesmerized by your beauty and voice.

Alas, everyone else can see you too and get jelous over the fact Izuku Midoriya—the 'good for nothing nerd' of the class—has somehow a relation with you, and as the rebellious and wild teenagers they all are—they make sure he gets their message of leaving you.

"She deserves much better," "maybe she just agreed to go out with you out of pity," "I'm sure as this year's done, she'll be done with you too."

Those are some of the comments he can hear around him when you're not in the same room as him.

It first started with a couple of confused and disgusted looks from your classmates when you grabbed his hand to take him to lunch or gave him some pecks on his cheeks.

Then the rumour of you two being a thing got confirmed when the first mean bully just so happened to unleash his resentment on him infront of you—whom decided to stood up for the both of you and told them to let you be.

After this ordeal, it was as if all your fans made a silent pact of only teasing him when you're not close. Be it when he goes or comes out of the bathrooms, when you've got to go a bit earlier than usual, whenever they catch him alone.

Izuku didn't want to bother you, he ended up crying by himself at his house each time someone told him how undeserving of you he was, how stupid of him to have fallen in love with the most astounding girl of the school was, lots of hatred filled comments and comparisons.

They started to leave those rude remarks written in his belongings. Locker, backpack, notebooks... they were hunting him to get to you.

There was a breaking point in the poor boy's heart once he saw one of his bullies confess to you at the school's front after classes when you were supposed to go to his house and spend time together.

Of course you told off the guy but as Izuku's rage started to get to the surface, he heard the bully talk bad about him as a person and as a partner.

He froze, you were on the verge of tears as you caught on what he was trying to do—disuade you from loving your one and only—and even if it didn't make your mind change as the tormentor wanted to, it did affect Izuku.

He had gotten to your side and as fast as possible and caught your wrist with his hand, running out of the scene with tears in both of your eyes.

"Thank you for getting me out of that Iz-oh, Izuku, are you ok?" You asked worriedly as you gasped for air when you arrived to a park near your house.

"It's-It's nothing, just that seeing you want to cry made me want to cry too and I tried to move as fast as possible to help you..." he replied, giving you a forced smile. While his body had stopped moving at such fast speed, his mind couldn't seem to do it.

He was nervous to what were you thinking about him right now. He was almost sure you hadn't heard a single bad comment about him than that time you ended up exposing your relation to the whole school, now that the dude had dared to speak up what no one wanted to with you close, he thought he'd lost you. 'What if those observations only served as a reason to break up with him?' 'Did you believe that guy at all?' 'Would you still want to be with someone like him?' 'What were people thinking about you seeing you with a guy like him?'

"Well I really appreciate it, I don't know what that fella was thinking when telling me all that but now that we're finally hereee... do you want to go to the swings?" You suggested with no more glassy eyes and a grin on your face.

"Yeah, that'd be great."

"Did you hear what he did yesterday?" "Yes! I never thought someone would really declare to her knowing she is dating him..." "Just what did she saw in him again?"

The classroom was now full aware of the love declaration you received the day before and were going mad about it prior to classes.

Izuku was going mad about it too. He liked you... he really did. 'But why was his love waning now? Was he seriously going to let people's comments get to him and end things with you?'

"Good morning Izu!" You greeted, smiling ever so brightly just at him and carressing his cheek like you'd always do. "How are you?"

He could only hum in response, not really looking at your eyes, instead staring at his hands that were placed in his desk. He needed time to think about this new insecurities of him without bothering you with all of it and worrying you.

"Uhm, do you want to talk about it at lunch maybe? We can go to our secret spot at the rooftop-oh! Before I forget to tell you, I got you lunch today! I've discovered this new recipe you'd want to try out!"

As you spoke ever so joyous Izuku could only think about how all of their classmates statements were true. You were so much for him, you cared for him more than anyone—besides his mom—had ever done and he didn't seem to be able to do the same for you—hell, even if he wanted to protect you from some danger all he could do is run away with you, he had no quirk either.

You've told him many times that you would never discriminate or think less of him for that, but after yesterday's encounter with that stupid guy and his desire of flying him out of the world's ozone layer, he was not sure about it anymore.

Everything seemed to tell him in one way or another that you were not made for each other, that you'd find better in anyone but him.

Izuku loved you... he really did, and for this he found his heart aching when he didn't meet with you in lunch to speak as you'd usually do. Even if he knew you'd still let him choose to speak right then and there or not, he couldn't bring himself to look at you in the eyes.

You'd gotten worried once your second period of classes started and he could feel your glances at the classroom from your seat to his.

It was difficult to, but he'd also managed to get out of school without you. You tried to follow after him but as you caught a glimpse of his eyes by far and he recognized yours too, he turned as quick as he could to run, then a couple of friends started to approach you and left you with no space nor words to go with him.

Was he avoiding you now?

You liked Izuku, you really did, that's why you couldn't bring yourself to sleep last night since you sent worried messages to him only to get no reply. Opting to just stay up before even your alarm went off, you started preparing food for the two of you. You'd cook your boyfriend's favorite today to cheer him up!

"Hi Izuku! Here! Better put it inside your backpack for you to not forget to eat today!" You showed him a bowl-shapped container and carefully placed it inside his things to then start chatting normally with him. "Soo, how are you today?"

Izuku could not comprehend 'how were you so kind to him? Even when he felt he was being mean to you? Why?' He now wanted to let you see what others had been saying about him all along but you left no room to budge. You were always by his side even after some days of not replying to your text messages or usual videocalls, he'd also flinch back as you tried to reach for his usual morning cheeks kiss in class and excuse himself after school since he suddenly had some other stuff to do.

You loved him, you really did, that's why your heart and mind told you maybe he needed some time or space to think about what had happened when that random guy confessed to you—because it's been since that day that he's gotten a 'little' colder towards you.

It didn't matter, you could give him some days to order whatever was on his mind and come back when he was feeling better. Though it's never been your way of sorting things out with him—you researched online and found out it could be a helpful way to get better as a couple.

So after giving him a week and a half to be reach out when he felt ready to—as you'd clarified via message to him and being left on sentvyour heart broke when there was still no signal of him coming back to you.

'No, don't think negatively now, maybe he just needs me to start up again! There's no problem with that since he's always been shy!' You thought as you came closer to your classroom, an uncomfortable feeling started growing in the pit of your stomach.

"Hello Izuk-" You went to embrace him as your body missed so much his warmth as you hugged him but froze in shock seeing his disturbed eyes after he'd flinched back once again from your touch.

"I'm-I'm sorry, maybe my voice was too loud, haha, soo, how are you? Do you feel better now?" You questioned keeping in mind your voice and opting to take one of his hands on yours, smiling kindly to hopefully demonstrate you weren't being distant because he had done something wrong.

"I'm sorry too, uhm, I-I'm doing better I guess." He said coldly, still not looking at you.

"Maybe you'd like to talk about this lat-" The ring went off and everyone gathered in their seats to start class, as you went to end your sentence, you noticed Izuku had simply taken out his notebook as a dismissing action.

Lunch time arrived and as you didn't find Izuku anywhere in the cafeteria, you thought of going to the rooftop as he'd most likely be there by himself—that's where you'd seen him go to these past days you haven't spent time with him by these hours.

You closed the door behind you and let out a relieved sigh watching him there—sitting down close to where the bars were—so calmly, oblivious to his inner turmoil.

"Hello again!" You spoke softly, smiling tenderly as he heard you and turned to look at you.

"I don't think it's a good time to speak Y/N," he'd finally spoken, but certainly those were not the words you were expecting to leave his lips after a week and a half from not talking to each other.

"I, I came to see how are you doing! I've been so worried this days!" You decided to brush it off as he'd done with your salutation.

"I thought you've finally given up on me." He said ever so softly you first thought you hadn't heard him right. 'You couldn't have, had you?'

"Wha-What? What are you talking about? You know I like you Izuku-I would never do tha-" "don't, please don't continue. I've told you it's not a good time to speak."

"Then could you tell me when will it be?" You asked truly curious and a bit hurt from his way of cutting you off.

"I don't think there would be another time..." "Hey, I'm sure you don't mean that-" "WHAT IF I REALLY DO?!" He cried out.

"Y/N, NO ONE WANTS US TO BE TOGETHER! SHOULD WE REALLY BE THEN?!"

Spilling tears after tears, forest-like green eyes missing their light among all the tall and thorny-full trees were begging for something even he could still not decipher what it was.

"I WANT TO BE WITH YOU, EVERYONE ELSE BE DAMNED FOR ALL I CARE!" You could not help your voice, after hearing him scream you screamed back wishing he'd get your message and be done with all this.

"I-sorry, I want to be with you, Izuku, Izuku Midoriya, I like you, I-I love you, not them." You confessed on the verge of tears, getting closer to take his hands on yours, craving for reassurance that he didn't want neither of this too.

"Then... I don't like you."

He uttered. Shattering your heart and breaking whatever was keeping you together. 'Did he really mean it?' 'Have I done something wrong?' 'Maybe all this time I thought he was the one who needed time to think and change something but actually I was the one who needed to change.'

Your mind ran thousands of miles per hour with all the bad thoughts you were trying so hard to erase. With Izuku by your side it was always much easier but now he'd been the one provoking them.

You liked Izuku... you really did, that's why you felt as if time had suddenly been frozen and you could only stare into those darkened, green eyes. 'When did they lose their spark? Why?'

You loved Izuku... you really did, that's why your heart even while being in so much pain couldn't bare to let your mind think about a life without him.

'Anyone but him.' But for him it seemed to be 'anyone but you.'

"Izu-No, you can't be serious, right? I-It's all their fault!" "Stop it Y/N, I think this has gone for too long now." He balled his fists at his side and went past you to get to the exit door.

"Please tell me you're lying..." you sounded so defeated. Izuku could only take so much and it was undeniable he wouldn't ressist hearing you nor seeing you cry because of him.

"Izuku, what did I do wrong..." you begged for answers most likely to yourself thinking he had already left you alone.

"It's not your fault," between sobs he pleaded, "don't blame yourself."

"It's not yours either, so then why?..." you implored to him, havig already fallen to your knees holding your tearful face with your hands.

"I-..." he'd fallen speechless, his mind echoing your question making him realize what he's been missing all this time.

Clarity. As simple as that.

He's read thousands of books and heard one to many stories were the main character would lack a certain thing and even if it seemed so absurd at the moment how much impact it could have on them once they got it back—Izuku could now understand how they all felt.

His thoughts had all been scrambled ever since that damned day someone confessed to you with no light to help him see the truth behind it all—behind all those jelousy-filled remarks from your classmates—he liked you, he really did. He loved you, heck, he adored you.

'Why did a random person's words have to be relevant to any of you?' 'Why did they get the right to decide who he is with and likes?' 'He had control over his own life, not any of them.'

As if he was holding his breath for days, he hurriedly went to your side, kneeling next to you and cried out apologies, "I'm sorry-I'm so-so sorry, I wasn't thinking clearly, I didn't think how you'd feel when I said that and for that and everything I've been putting you through I'm sorry."

"I love you Izuku, I really do." You shared after a few moments of silence, catching him by surprise when you side hugged him and looked at his matching red-puffy eyes.

"I love you too." He'd ultimately admitted, reciprocating your feelings and looking in that brightness only his eyes could hold and cast light upon yours as well—that, even if you were recognized as one of the most cheerful people on your school and such, you knew you'd be none of that without Izuku in your life ever again.

Oh, how love does wonders, doesn't it?

"Well, let's go and give a fuck about everyone's opinion now!" You encouraged as you caught Izuku to stand up and go back to class.

"Eh?!" He got surprised by your sudden cursing but quickly his eyes softened as he found the deep meaning of your words and nodded his head. "Yes, let's go."

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