#especially if you never fucking open up your computer and LOOK AT YOUR FUCKING CODE GDI!!!!!!!!

[shmreduplication]

i think if you plan on revolutionizing an industry you shouldn't be surprised that you attract people who want to work for you who also revolutionize other things like team structure. And then if you do hire them to revolutionize the team structure you should, you know, let them do the thing you hired them to do

and if you work at a science company then you should be swayed by data

[alwaysshallow]

— coffee at midnight, part 2

John "Soap" MacTavish x f!reader

Bombs, explosions and lipsticks are dangerous weapon. Things are getting interesting. (4,4 k)

AO3 version

Everything escalated over time – what once was just in your room, started to be visible outside, you knew it will be that way, sooner or later. Pressure with the job that you both had was… higher than someone could ever expect. Especially with someone like Soap, that had just talent with being in extremely dangerous situations. It's not like the whole Task Force didn't have it, it comes up with a job, right? Fighting, trying not to die and do your job properly.

MacTavish however… had a talent for things like that. For being constantly in trouble, even if he was a really good soldier. Maybe it was because he was demolitions expert and being a Scot only added to that? Hell, only God probably knew, but you were constantly stressed. Constantly, because that motherfucker was constantly on adrenaline high, and he wasn't shy to say it out loud.

Dealing with bombs was his thing - everyone in TF141 knew that, it was ongoing joke that he's gonna marry a bomb, not a person. He looked like a kid in candy store if he had to work with explosives, even if it was a threat. Not to mention how his eyes sparkled when he was actually about to dismantle bomb, oh boy. He was insufferable.

And insufferable was the stress came with it, not only Soap's – though, you wondered sometimes, who was stressed more. He was always talking about dealing with bombs like it was babysitting or something so carefree, like his whole body wouldn't rip off when he would cut the wrong wire.

Meanwhile, it was a pattern. You and Ghost were silently stressed, Gaz was praying in the background, Alejandro was swearing under his breath. And Price pretty much gained more grey hair when he was listening what Johnny was doing.

The worst situation with the bomb that you remembered was ten months after you two met, right after that situation when you slept in his bed after a rough mission. You had to work with him over shortwave transmitter, and that probably was the first time when you cried out of frustration on a mission.

It started off normally; he found it, he had to dismantle it, nothing too fancy, seemed like a "pretty silly bomb", as Soap described it. He was babbling over a radio how unprofessional it was, and how embarrassing it was to even put it in a place like that. Price scolded him, telling him that it was better not to brag about it because he doesn't need anything hard. You all needed him safe and secure, without any obstacles in a way. Problem started to form when he suddenly got quiet, causing the team to ask what the hell was happening.

"I might need some help, bonnie."

And when whole Task Force 141 looked at you, your throat went dry because everyone knew what it meant. As a IT specialist, you wished that Johnny would never need your help, considering it was probably the most fucked up thing ever.

"I'm listening, Soap" you said almost immediately, opening your computer, trying to remain calm.

"I cut the wires already, seemed good." MacTavish started explaining "And when I was about to secure it, screen lighted up again. Pretty messed up, I'd say, it looks like a virus or something."

"Virus?"

"Yea, like, the things, codes? Floating. The worst thing is, timer is going down too. Again."

"Is there a one code in the down right corner? Or anywhere that is not floating?" you asked, starting the system. "And, how many fucking minutes do we have, Johnny?"

"Yeah, there is, hang on. And, four."

You wanted to punch something, when he told you how many minutes you both had; or, mostly, he had, considering that you were on the other side of the line. Safe and secure, but he wasn't, and he wouldn't leave this bomb behind. He had no other choice than handle the problem.

And you were here to help him.

From what he told you over the walkie talkie after that, it seemed like it was not hard code to crack; if you would have time. Four minutes was a tough job to work with, especially with something like that, but you tried to manage. You were practically going insane over it, wanted to throw your computer out of that temporary base. Instead, your frustration was showing in tapping your leg nervously against the hardwood floor that was creaking every time.

It didn't help you that boys were watching your every move. You wanted to tell them to fuck off, to stick nose somewhere else, but that was the nervous wreck. Normally, it would flatter you that they were watching what were you doing because in calmer moments, they asked, and you answered. It was funny to see their confused faces.

Back then, it was a different situation with Johnny on the line, anxiously waiting for your instructions, when timer was going down. It was either a good ending or a bad one, and you were praying to God that you would joke about that situation later with him, rather than…

You shook your head.

Him, being dead, wasn't even an option.

"Timer is still going. Another piece opened though, and it looks more like my cup of tea." Soap laughed on the other line – you could feel that was a forced one, though. Probably to calm everyone, he was always doing that.

"You're sure it's safe to cut it?" you asked anxiously, still looking through code, to possibly find something useful, what would maybe help him.

A silence on the other side of the line worried you.

Minute and thirty seconds.

"Soap, for fuck's sake… You have to leave it, right now, right this fucking second, I'll beat your Scot ass if-"

"Everything is pretty much tangled. I'll have to freestyle it and…" his voice cuts; you can't hear a damn thing, and sound is just robotic, like he was never there. Soon enough, his device shuts completely, leaving you with dead silence.

"Johnny?" you spoke up, your voice cracking. You knew he wouldn't answer, his device was off, yet, you were just fucking anxious. "For fuck's sake, does he not have a signal? It's fucking impossible, I-"

"…probably, or battery just gone out. This shit is acting up sometimes" Price murmured, as he took a few steps closer to you.

You didn't even bother to look up at your Captain; your gaze was on time you previously set on your phone. It was going down, and when you heard an alarm, a shiver went down your spine automatically.

So many questions, and not enough answers to put your mind in ease. Did Soap managed to make dismantle the bomb or he just ran off, trying his chances in surviving? He could do that, he wasn't dumb, he knew that the team needs him, and if he can't stop the explosion, he should run. Sometimes these things happened, even if none of you wanted it to happen.

Yet, you knew him, you knew that motherfucker would try and do his best. So, probably he stayed and he's dead, and others would discover it later that day. That was your main thought back in the day, and you couldn't brush this excruciating feeling in your chest, when you stood up, hands shaky. Everything was dizzy, when you walked over to a chair where your jacket was, and you started putting it on.

Your head was heavy with thoughts. Maybe it was a bad decision from Price, that he sent him there alone. Maybe if someone would go with him, it would be different. Maybe you wouldn't start to lose your mind.

"Rosa?" Alejandro looked at you with concerned face. You were barely able to hear him, you felt like you were under water with all of these sounds coming to you. "What are you…"

"I have to check. Like, right now, if he managed to…" your voice caught in your throat. It was hard to form a sentence, when you anxiously tried to tell yourself that he's probably safe and you're exaggerating.

"Not a chance." Price spoke up again, looking at you with a knowing look. Like he knew what you had in mind, like he knew what were you thinking about, but wouldn't dare to say it out loud. "I sent only him for a reason, Rosalie. We can't do it now, it's too dangerous. We have to lay low for a few hours. Bigger group, especially."

You snorted and shook your head with disbelief.

"With all due respect, sir…"

You couldn't even finish that sentence, as you heard the loud explosion. Considering that Soap was a few miles away, it could be that explosion from his bomb, and, oh my God, you were shattered.

You didn't even notice how your shaking hand went to your lips to cover it in disbelief. It was just a coincidence, right? It had to be a coincidence because you simply couldn't believe that… that it would be true. The possibility of him being blown by some 'stupid, home bomb' as he described it sooner, before all this fiasco with losing connection, was… no, no, no.

For fuck's sake, you were a mess. You didn't even realize that Ghost put his big, warm hand on your shoulder, when you focused on looking at the material of tent, trying to get yourself together before speaking. What the fuck happened? You always joked that if he's gonna die before you, you're gonna die too because he was unbearable ass, and you two came in pack. And, right after hearing the explosion, you pretty much felt like dying.

Dying, because you lost control over what you felt, and it was the second worst thing that you hated to happen. The first, was Soap dying. You couldn't imagine it, honestly – not only because the team would be different, but you would be. He had a huge impact on your life, on being in Task Force 141, being around others. He teached you to trust people, even if they hurt you, because 'not everyone is so bad', as he liked to tell you over a simple drink, when you accidentally were calling him "Johnny" the first few times. Fuck, even if you were supposed to call him by his callsign, he was always Johnny to you, always, no matter where you were. If he was talking with pissed version of you, or stern one, it was always Soap or John. And he accepted that, which was a shock to everyone around because no one could call him that, except Ghost.

And now, you couldn't even call him that, because he was-

"Ros? Ros, fuck, hey" Gaz was snapping his fingers just right in front of your eyes, trying to get a proper reaction from you. You could tell that he, and the other members of TF141 were talking before that, but you couldn't… recollect, what they were saying.

Your heart was heavy.

"What? What, I'm sorry, I…" another problems with your sentence. Another shaky breath, another try to form it right. To tell what you are supposed to say, but you can't even think properly, anxiety eating you inside out.

"Give her a break, Gaz." Simon looked at you, to look at worried Price next. "Breathe, sergeant. Just breathe."

Tears pricked to your eyes, as you clawed with your nails, painfully, the inside of your hand. Ghost was rarely like that, and when he was, things were bad. He meant good, of course, but it was another reminder of something that you didn't like to admit.

"We have to wait until dark. Then, we can move." Price spoke up again, a bit louder, so everyone could hear him.

You just nodded, walking to corner of the tent, as you sat there, thinking – because what other choice did you have? Speaking to anyone would be wrong now, you could break down in pieces, and no one needed that. No one needed a mess, when everyone was a mess, at least that's what you've told yourself, to make this whole situation less painful.

Everyone was pacing around at this point. Alejandro was the only one who talked, cursed under his breath in Spanish, probably asking himself and all the Gods around what the hell had happened. Gaz tried to focus, as he played with his hands near Price that was writing something down in his journal, pissed and sad as hell. Ghost… well, Ghost was Ghost, he observed everything, but he was the closest to you, just… sitting.

Because what someone should say in a situation like that, when technically you didn't know anything, but you know? A chance that he might be alive was low, almost non-existent.

It was ironic. Demolitions specialist, being killed by the thing that brought him adrenaline, tore him to pieces.

Elisabeth Kübler-Ross once said there are five stages of grief – denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. Until now, you pretty much believed it, because it had sense, but back then, when you were thinking of your best friend and a partner in crime, you were undermining it. How come you felt every single one of them, apart of acceptance? There wasn't a fucking world where you could accept something like Johnny dying, and the stages of gried should be… ensue after each other, yeah?

You felt too much. Even your limp body was too much, you couldn't move a muscle without feeling like you're not actually in your body. It felt like it belonged to someone else, and for the first time in months, you felt miserable. You missed that stupid grin, that stupid face, his voice when he was saying something weird or completely out of place.

Tears rolled down your face involuntarily. Two hours from that accident didn't help you.

Another thing that you couldn't even think of – his funeral. No matter if they would find his body or not, he would have one, and that would absolutely destroy the shit out of you. Not even mentioning that probably people would like to give speeches, especially Price as a Captain, his family. His friends. People that he doesn't see so often, but when he had a chance, he was going for it, and you were in awe every time, because his family meant everything for him. He was so proud when he talked with you about his cousins, or when he told you about his mom. 

His dearest mom that was somewhat of a role model to him, person that he always looked up to. She taught him "how to act around a lady" and how "MacTavish never backs down" – which you found funny in his words, but also melting. He loved his mom, his family.

And how were you supposed to face them with the knowledge that he's dead? That the last person he talked to...

The thought of it made you sick in your stomach. It was nothing but wrong.

"Why are we actin' like someone's dead, folks?" you heard a tired, but still amused voice that made your head jerk up immediately.

You would recognize it everywhere, no doubt in that – and here was that motherfucker, with a small smile, all dusty and dirty, with a helmet in his hand. Everyone, except you, almost immediately approached him to hug that son of a bitch, to ask what happened. He wasn't saying much, except mumbling something about bomb being 'fucking crazy', and he had to take another road to base. He didn't know about explosion, Soap called it more of a coincidence.

Even if he was hugging person after person, laughing how tough of a motherfucker he was, his gaze wandered; and landed right at you, while you were observing the scene. Quietly, like a mouse, trying to process everything that was happening in your mind because it was too much. For two hours straight, you thought he was dead. You were in fucking pieces, trying to not break right in front of the team.

And, right after his arrival, you tried not to cry from happiness because he was here, alive, in one piece, safe with his usual attitude. Like you weren't already thinking of funeral.

Safe and alive.

Two words that you needed to calm down.

"And what, you're not gonna welcome the phoenix? Risin' right from the ashes?" his eyebrow cocked, as he grinned a bit more, knowing how that riles you up.

"Oh, I fucking hate that phoenix, actually." you managed to say, in a little quieter tone than you usually used; still, you had to keep up with your playful demeanor around him, trying to not show how it touched you.

Of course he noticed. He always did, and in his gaze flickered the amount of softness that he always had for you, no matter what was happening in the moment.

He walked to you, finally – he practically bumped into you, but of course, you didn't mind any of that, not even his arms tightly wrapping around you, like he was about to strangle you. You absolutely loved his hugs because of his size. Because his chest was wide, and you could literally hide in it, so you did, trying to find that comfort. Trying to calm because he was here, and nothing else mattered.

Soap's hugs were the best, and that was a fact.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ, bonnie…" he murmured in low tone, kissing the side of your head. "Don't want ya to haunt me in afterlife, remember? 'm not supposed to die." he chuckled, referring to your words from months earlier.

He seemed clueless at first, how the whole situation had an effect on you. Only when youshook slightly in his arms, he looked down at you, grabbing your chin with worried look on his face.

"You're shaking." he whispered, frowning. He looked at your face, a bit closer, and took a quick breath. "Oh, don't tell me you cried. Because if you did, I…"

"I was worried to death." you interrupted him, clearing your throat, as you looked away; only for a moment because your gaze was on him almost immediately. "I thought you…" words stopped in your throat.

Even if he was here with you, it was hard to say it out loud.

"Mm… 'm gonna make it up to you. I don't want you to cry and worry because of me" he mumbled, looking at you with his soft, sapphire eyes. "Now, smile a little, yeah? You have to put up with my ass a little longer. That's what you want, apparently" he put his thumb on corner of your lips, pulling it up. Even if it was stupid, it made you smile a bit, and he automatically grinned too. "Nooow, that's my girl. Better?"

"You're stupid" you murmured, still looking at him. "Yeah, better."

You took a step back, still smiling; the smile disappeared a bit in moment you saw that everyone was looking at you two, observing the situation and what was happening. It was the first hug they saw between you and Soap; the first one so… emotional, so to speak. Until that moment, boys were only joking about that "connection" and such, but now, they had actual material to their assumptions.

Hell, your face got a little redder, when Alejandro laughed and said something about birds in love and boys (including that motherfucker) joined him in that. Even if Johnny joked about being so close, he still had an arm around you, protectively, with a hand on your hip.

They stopped with that narrative shortly after, though; because it started to be more present in the outside, gestures like that. Hugs after coming back, stolen glances when the squad was drinking and you both were checking out each other, or trying to make the other person smile. Everything was more evident after that one mission for everyone, and sometimes they made comments, or to joke around, because it was funny.

"Get a room already" Gaz groaned one time in the bar, nudging Soap.

It just encouraged him to switch seats with Price (who was visibly confused, murmuring something about being professional). He wrapped his arm around you that time and smirked.

"What'cha say, lass? Up for sharing a room with me tonight?"

"You wish, MacTavish" you said, pushing him a little with a laugh; it was playful, platonic.

At least you were telling yourself that, trying to blame your red cheeks on the alcohol, not the close proximity and an innuendo. It was hard, considering that eyes of whole Task Force were on you, but you managed. Somehow.

You were in constant denial – because you couldn't believe that you would grow some feelings for Soap. Your best friend, your rock, someone who was always here for you, no matter what was happening. Someone who made you easily laugh every time, someone who pretty much made your day better only because he spoke to you, or just hugged you. It was rather easy to please you.

So, naturally you were scared of admitting anything because it could be nothing, your minds could be playing you. He was a man, giving you attention, close to you, and you were starved of that, maybe it was it? A little crush, or just simple admiration, you told yourself, when his gestures made you shiver out of excitement, or your cheeks were flushing. Sometimes he acted like he wanted something from you, though. Something… romantic as well, maybe?

You had this one situation in mind, where you were painting your lips. It was in your apartment, a night or two after you got back from the mission, and you, Kyle and Johnny decided to go out, hit some pubs. Garrick sent you the name of first one, clarifying that he will wait here, while your best friend decided to walk from your apartment with you.

And, of course, he came a little sooner than you expected. Maybe an hour before you two were supposed to walk to Kyle, so your makeup was pretty much unfinished, and you told him that. He chuckled, and then told you he doesn't mind waiting. Next thing he did, was grabbing a beer from your fridge and making himself comfortable on your sofa, while you were near him, making yourself all pretty, because the light there was perfect. With companion that was turning the TV on, ruining your silly routine with Taylor Swift in the background.

The fucking audacity from him, huh? You weren't surprised though, he was acting in your apartment like it was his. It was mutual, you knew when every time you came to his place, you could act like this too, without even explaining yourself. Comforting feeling, ain't it? Knowing that you basically had two homes, instead of one.

While he watched a basketball game between Boston Celtics and Miami Heat, you were working over your makeup so carefully, like it was a painting or something. It wasn't your plan to go overboard with it, it was a casual going out, but you wanted to look pretty. Who knew who would you meet, right? So, that's why you decided to pull out a red lipstick since most of your makeup was simple. It seemed like a right occasion.

You parted your lips slightly, looking straight into your standing mirror, making a first swipe; carefully, slowly, because it was one of those lipstick that were hard to wipe off, and you didn't have time for that. Not when Soap was drinking already second beer, and you wanted some of it too, before he will empty your alcohol shelf completely.

It was even your intention to joke about it, when you felt his piercing gaze on you. He was probably impatient, wanted to ask when you will finish, and you could joke that you will be ready when he pours some of beer in your cup.

None of this was said though because you forgot everything in second, when you laid your gaze on him, and you noticed that he was looking straight at your lips. Half-done right now, waiting for that one last swipe, maybe two, if it wouldn't look right to you.

"Do you have to do that like that?" he asked after a few seconds, when his eyes lazily looked up into yours, his head tilted to the side.

"Do it like what? I can't speed the process up, Johnny" you murmured, not breaking your eye contact.

His usually warm, blue eyes, now had some darkness behind it, when he let out an amused sigh, like he wasn't buying you.

"'m not talkin' about time, bonnie." he explained slowly. "Parting your lips like that."

You laughed, as you shook your head.

"No, I can't. It would look messy, and not good as I want it to look."

He seemed to think about your answer for a moment. Then, he nodded, like he was actually seeing some point in it, even if he didn't know shit about make up. Once he wanted you to "doll him up" after he got beaten up on a mission and had to go to the photographer. You couldn't count how many times he not only whined, but asked you multiple questions. For example: why it is so important to know color theory, if you can "pat this shit up and go".

"Mhm. Do your thing, then."

So, you focused one more time in your imagine in the mirror, as you started applying red lipstick, carefully. It wasn't going so smooth as the first time, and something felt odd enough that you again looked at Johnny.

He was still looking at you, with that unreadable, dark gaze – when your green eyes met his, he had to inhale sharply, but he didn't break that gaze. Quite the opposite; he even tilted his head to the side, and raised an eyebrow, like he was challenging you or some sort.

Fuck, was that bad that you liked every part of that?

"…you're distracting me, Johnny." you mumbled, and your gazes crossed again.

He broke the eye contact almost immediately, and looked at the TV.

"Sorry, do your thing." he repeated quietly.

And you were back into finishing your makeup; it didn't take much time, but from that moment, you couldn't help but go back into this moment. He was so distracted with simple movement. You tried to explain this thing with simple "he's a man, they react this way", but it wasn't good enough for you. Once in a while, you were coming back with your thoughts to this situation, to… that look.

[exhaustedandlostit]

Not A Bad Way To Go | John Price x Reader

You met Price by accident, but you think it’s your favorite accident.

Word Count: 1.1k

Tags: Price/Reader, no gender mentioned, first meeting, mildly suggestive towards the end, no use of y/n.

Rating: Mature(Suggestive Content at end) 18+ mdni please

Warnings: None, just fluffy fluff, Not edited or beta’d.

First fic I’ve written on this account, and in a very long time. Hope you guys enjoy. Reblogs and comments are welcomed and appreciated.

——————————————————————————————

You aren’t quite sure what got you here. Your brain is fuzzy, dizziness setting in from the failed huff you took when Price settled his cigar between your lips. He’d chuckled to himself a bit when you grimaced.

“Not supposed to inhale, love,” He’d said, chest rumbling with his light laughter. You’d shot him a stare laced with irritation.

“Too used to cigarettes, I guess,” You retort. He doesn’t chuckle this time, just gives you a warm smile that reaches his eyes. You can feel the warmth of his smile in your chest, and you muse to yourself about how fucked you truly are.

You’d met Captain John Price by accident. You were back on base, again, much to your dismay. You left the service months ago, no longer holding the desire to torture yourself further. Your brother, who’d convinced you to join in the first place, was both dismayed and grateful for your departure. Once you’d left the unit you two shared, he was selected to join a task force.

“Task Force 141, its intense as hell,” his voice crackled through the phone the day he got the assignment. You shook your head, provided some dry retort your brother was inevitably expecting. Much the same way you were expecting the call you received a week later.

“We need help.” You knew what that sentence meant, especially with the rare serious tone your brother’s voice had taken. Tech help, clean job, in and out. That’s what they always say, and yet its never what it ends up being. You’d (unfortunately) made a name for yourself while you were still in for being computer savvy. Guess all those coding classes you took for extra credit in highschool paid off somehow. You grasped technology easily. Your brother is happy you love him, because you’re on a plane within hours.

You weren’t supposed to come in contact with the team period. You were to meet with a woman named Kate Laswell, who would provide you with a laptop and the information you needed. However, the room the soldier who’d met you at the airport brought you to had not a woman in it, but a man.

Weird. That was your first thought. Weird hat, weird facial hair. However, you weren’t one to judge someone purely on their appearance. The man looked up from the document covered table as the door opened. His eyes found yours quickly, and the minute they did you knew you were fucked. His eyes pierced yours, examining everything about you in a second. You could tell by his stature and tac gear he was most definitely a soldier, and also not the woman you were supposed to be meeting.

“You don’t look like a Kate,” you stated, very matter of factly, and the sentence drew a chuckle from him. That may have been the first time you brought that from him, but you knew then it certainly wouldn’t be the last. You enjoyed it far too much.

“That’ll be ‘cause I’m not.” His accent was soothing. Another checked box on the list of things that make you absolutely addicted to this man, and it had only been about 45 seconds.

Kate being unavailable was your first indicator that the mission was absolutely not going as planned, but you weren’t too disappointed by that. After all, spending an afternoon showing off your expertise in front of a man who you were absolutely trying to impress was not a bad alternative. However, you did not get to go home after as planned. That night, your brother had shown to greet you, apologize that in a matter of hours shit had gone sideways, but that was not the most interesting part of that encounter.

The most interesting part was that when your brother entered the room he said your name, and then turned to the man and said “Captain.” to acknowledge him.

Fuck.

The knowledge that the man you had spent your afternoon swooning and even lightly flirting with(much to his enjoyment) was in fact your brother’s captain definitely threw a wrench in your day. Not as big a wrench as it threw in your brother’s though, who had inevitably sensed the not uncomfortable tension between you and Price about 30 seconds after entering the room. You sat in the smoke pit nursing glasses of shitty whiskey, burning through cigarettes, while getting an earful about being a slut from your brother. It was all in joke of course, but you could tell he was definitely irritated.

“I leave you alone with him for 4 hours and you’ve already got heart eyes for him.” He took a long drag of his cigarette with a hefty sigh.

“Not my fault your captain is hot.”

“Not my fault you’ve got hella daddy issues.”

“So do you, asshole.”

“Touché.”

Months later, here you were. Hired on as a contracted tech intel agent, you now spent your days living on base, digging around through documents and CCTV, scouting everywhere your team went, noting threats and holes before they even got there. You’d become invaluable, but that wasn’t what kept you there. He was. Captain John Price.

Every long day spent inside of the military bases you’d tried so hard to escape were made worth it by returning to not your room at night, but John’s. That’s where you are right now, settled into his lap in his bed, his cigar in his left hand, his right tangled in your hair while he damn near killed you with a kiss.

When he finally did let you breathe, he had a smirk plastered on his face while your hands rested on his chest, panting for the air you’d been lacking. You looked at him in the pale light from the lamp, and raised one of your hands to brush over his head and through his hat-flattened hair. Your hand came to a stop on the back of his head, and you looked into his eyes again, this time expecting the way they reached inside of you to your normally walled off soul, now bared, but only to him.

“You’re going to kill me like that one day,” You say, without a hint of a negative emotion in your voice. The chuckle you love rumbles from his chest again. He puts out his cigar in the ashtray on the nightstand, and grips your hips. In a second, you’re below him on the bed, and you can feel his body pressing into yours as his face dangles so close but not close enough to reach from your pinned state.

“Not a bad way to go,” he muses as one of his hands moves to rest on your face, encasing your cheek as he finally gets close enough.

“No, I guess it isn’t,” are the last words you say that night, save John’s name.

[pointreyesjournal]

The Amnesiac : ep17

Saturday

I’ve never been much for watching sports, especially American sports, but I do catch a Formula 1 or MotoGP race from time to time. Henrik is excited about all things culturally European, especially soccer. Since we live right across the hall from each other, and since his space is mostly office, and mine is mostly apartment, it’s not uncommon to find Henrik watching European football on my couch most weekend afternoons. Bundesliga is a favorite of his.

I’ve got a pretty decent home theater system, so I like to open up the windows and let the sound of the game pour out onto the street below. And because 99% of soccer is watching grown men pretend to be injured, I like to pester Henrik with lively conversation and cold beers throughout most of the game. When the game gets exciting Henrik will jump up out of his seat and yell at the TV. It only lasts for about thirty seconds per match, so when his butt leaves the seat I let him enjoy the game uninterrupted.

Today’s match is interrupted by the old fashioned zing zing of my vintage brass doorbell. I peer out the window and see - to my surprise - Emma from the coffee shop standing at my door. I buzz her in a greet her at the top of the stairs.

“Hi, Emma. I’m surprised to see you here.”

“Sheesh … I can’t believe how close you live to the coffee shop. No wonder you’re always in there. Can I come in?”

“Oh, sure. Henrik is here. We’re watching soccer.”

Emma steps inside and takes a look around. “Wow, nice place, it’s like one big loft. I love how bright it is in here. ” she says.

“Thanks. Yeah, it’s a great space.”

“Hi Henrik. Whatcha doin’?” she says.

“Just watching the game” Henrik says nonchalantly. “It’s almost over.”

That’s his polite way of saying “leave me the fuck alone for the next two minutes.” Emma gets the message, so she walks over toward the kitchen, dragging her index finger along the counter top as she survey’s the surroundings.

“Floody, you’ve got a really nice espresso machine. How come you’re always at the coffee shop?” she says.

“A little chit chat and some people watching helps break up the day.”

“I get it. But damn dude, this espresso machine is nice. Nicer than the one at the shop! And a burr grinder too.”

“Henrik pulls a mean shot Emma. He’s like a fucking coffee scientist. It’ll make your panties fall off.”

“He doesn’t need coffee to get my panties off.”

Henrik’s either not listening or doing a really good job of pretending not to listen as he focuses on last minute of stoppage time in the game. The referee blows the whistle three times signaling the end of the match. The magic spell is broken and Henrik stands and returns his focus to the real world. Henrik walks across the room to greet Emma with a handshake. She brushes his hand aside and gives him a tippy-toe hug.

“Hi Emma.” he says as they hug. “Sorry, I was focused on game.”

“What was the score?” she asks.

“Nil Nil” he replies.

“Wow, sounds exciting” she says sarcastically. “I hear you make a mean cappuccino.”

“Did Floody tell you that?” he replies.

“Yup. Would you make one for me?” she asks.

“Sure!”

Henrik is delighted. The goal of nerdism is to demonstrate your skills and share you knowledge at every opportunity. Coffee geekery and computer geekery are culturally simpatico. Good coffee, like good code, is the net result of a thousand little tiny details, each executed to perfection. Henrik immediately takes credit for my coffee hardware. “I’ve got friends who made big money in tech and dabbled in coffee. They told me which grinders go with which espresso machines. I even chose the coffee cups. It’s a real science!”

It sounds more like death by a thousand paper cuts to me …

Henrik dazzles Emma with his coffee knowledge. He presents his methodology like he’s practiced the presentation a dozen times in the mirror. First he explains his favorite roast profiles for the beans, and how fresh he likes them. Then he explains exactly how and why he chose the exact coarseness for the grind. Then he pulls the shots, and they’re perfectly frothy dark brown creme. He carefully tamps down the espresso on the counter top before carefully spooning in tiny dollops of foam, making them more of a traditional macchiato than a cappuccino. He hands one mug to Emma, and keeps one for himself. They clink mugs together. “Cheers!” she says with a smile and then takes a sip.

Her reaction looks like someone pumped a needle full of heroin into her arm. Her eyes close as she savors the flavor. She exhales like she had an orgasm. Emma, the barista, looks like she just had her first kiss. Her cheeks are rosy, lips plump and full as she realizes that there’s a whole realm of coffee perfection heretofore unbeknownst to her. If Henrik’s aim was to impress miss Emma, then he’s struck the bullseye.

“Henrik, are you good at everything you do?” Emma asks.

“I tend to do the things I’m good at …” he replies.

“He tends to nerd out on things until he reaches some level of perfection”

“Mastery is probably a more accurate term” he says.

“Do you make homemade sushi?” Emma asks?

“Why? Do you like sushi?” queries Henrik.

“Because if you make sushi like you make coffee, I’ll fuck you ‘till one of us bleeds or begs for mercy.”

I decide to interject before Emma’s panties light on fire.

“So what brings you by today Emma?”

“Oh, I thought you wanted to score some magic mushrooms.”

“Oh, you were serious about that?”

“Yeah, dead serious. My connection is just a few blocks away.”

“Oh. Uhhh. Do you want to go right now?”

“We’ll walk, but after sunset, so we’ve got a little time to kill.”

“Well … it’s only 2:30pm, do you want to hang here for a while or come back later?”

“Got any beer?”

“No.”

“White wine?”

“Yes.”

“Is it chilled?”

“Yes.”

There’s a bit of an awkward silence, then I get the hint and fetch glasses to split the bottle between us with three generous pours.

“Where do you live Henrik?” Emma asks.

“Right across the hall”

“Shut the fuck up. You two are next door neighbors?”

Henrik points to the door across the hallway. “Literally, right there.”

“Floody, why don’t you go to the ATM and get some cash while Henrik shows me his apartment?” Emma suggests.

I take a big gulp from my white wine and then grab the house keys from the tray near the door, and slip out. The sushi place a few blocks away opens at 3pm, so I decide to just walk there and get an early dinner, and grab cash from the ATM on the way home. I don’t know if Henrik has realized it yet or not, but Emma the Barista is about to spend the next two hours or so impaling herself on his Swedish meatballs.

“Better him than me” I keep telling myself as I slurp down two large Sapporos, with Spanish mackerel and hot sake.

The afternoon light passes though my loft like a golden rainbow, turning the white walls to yellow then orange before giving way to the streetlights below. I break the silence with some soft 90’s trip hop through the hifi system and watch the light from turn signals and crosswalks pulsate on the ceiling. When the latch on Henrik’s door finally opens, it’s only Emma who passes through the door. She’s standing in my living room wearing only jeans and a bra, her body and hair are drenched in sweat. I can see bite marks across her belly and ribcage as she pulls her white v-neck over her head.

“He’s asleep” she says as she pulls her shoes on. “Did you get cash?”

“I got cash.”

“Let’s just walk there. It’s only a few locks away.”

“You want to walk to a drug deal? What if we get busted? Are we just going to run home?”

“Well, it’s better than having your or my license plate sitting in front of his house. We’ll walk. Go in through the alley, and nobody will be the wiser. Come on … trust me, I do it all the time.”

I change my shirt to a nondescript long sleeve black tee, and put on running shoes with my jeans just in case. “You look like Steve Jobs” Emma snarkily tells me as we slip out the back door. We walk briskly with our hands in our pockets for a couple of blocks.

“Anything special I should know about your dealer before we get there?”

“It’s not like that” she says. “He’s just a regular guy.”

She’s not kidding. When the back door of the little bungalow opens, standing there is the most ordinary looking forty-something male I’ve ever seen. He’s got shaggy reddish brown hair to match his tidy reddish brown beard, and corduroy pants with brown top-sider boat shoes. He looks like a dad from an 80’s sitcom. “Emma!” he says with a hug. He turns his attention to me.

“Hi, I’m Dave” he says.

“Dave?” I say with a chuckle.

“His name is Dave too” says Emma gleefully. “But everyone calls him Floody.”

Great … now the magic mushroom dealer knows my first and last name. It shouldn’t be a problem, unless we get caught. But then … if we get caught, him knowing my name will be the least of my problems. I was expecting a burnt out hippie, or a gun toting gangster. This guy is as tame as a kitten by contrast. He’s a Volvo driver for sure. He shows us into the living room and we plop down on the couch

“Can I get you a drink?” he says as he points the remote control toward the TV. An episode of Bill Nye the Science Guy is on, and he lets it continue to play, but hits the mute button.

“No thanks, I’m fine.”

“I’ll get myself some water” says Emma as she steps into the kitchen.

“So, Emma tells me you’re experiencing traumatic retrograde amnesia. Can you tell me what happened?”

The big words catch me off guard. I was expecting a drug deal, not a therapy session. I rub the bump on my forehead as I think of a response.

“I walked into the coffee shop Sunday morning with a lump on my forehead and a month of my life missing.”

“You mind if I take a look at the wound?”

“Forgive me for asking, but are you a doctor or something?”

“Emma didn’t tell you who I am?”

“Her drug dealer presumably.”

“Haha, no. I’m David Hoover, Department Chair, UC Berkeley College of Psychology. I specialize in the study of psychotropic drugs, specifically entheogenic hallucinogens such as psilocybin, and their effects on the brain.”

“So you’re not her drug dealer? Wait … so is this legal?”

“The study of psychotropic drugs is legal, but the substances are strictly controlled. We cultivate our own spores in the lab at Berkeley, so … I just cultivated a little extra here at home for those just-in-case moments.”

“Do you have many just-in-case moments?”

“Are you a fan of contemporary literature Mr. Floody?”

“Sure.”

“Are you familiar with the Beat Generation?”

“You mean like Jack Kerouac and William Burrows? Yes of course.”

“When I began college I became captivated by the work of Timothy Leary and his work in the field of consciousness.”

“Isn’t he the LSD guy?”

“Exactly. You see … I’d love to be the Timothy Leary of the 21st Century. An astronaut of the mind. But the world just doesn’t work like that anymore. Everything is bogged down in paperwork, and official transfers of controlled substances. Placebos and audit trails. It’s almost impossible to get anything done …”

“Unless a willing research participant walks through the back door of your kitchen.”

“Bingo. Like a monkey in a space capsule.”

“So you’re willing to put me into orbit. What do you want in return?”

“I’ll get you on a brief dosing regiment and interview you on a regular basis to see if it brings back any memories. If it works, I’ll use the data to formula the basis of a clinical study, knowing privately of course that my therapy has already been proven effective … at least with a sample size of one.”

“So in an official capacity … ?”

“This never happened.’

“The clandestine space monkey. Sign me up.”

“Great. Now let me take a look at that bump on your head.”

Doctor Dave pulls his iPhone out of his pocket and turns on the flash light and looks into my eyes. “Your pupils are dilated.”

“It’s night time.”

“Have you been drinking?”

“Sake … and beer.”

“Okay, so during the initial round of dosing, I need you to just take the psilocybin, no other drugs or alcohol.

“Is coffee okay?”

“Coffee is fine. Now listen carefully. The psilocybin is delivered in the form of a capsule. The contents are 100% organic. They’re just dried mushrooms. But I can more accurately dose you with capsules versus making tea. Plus, the tea tastes awful. Take one capsule tomorrow morning, then another tomorrow night. Then the following day, I want you to skip the morning capsule and take two at night. The following night, three. Got it?”

“Got it. Can I overdose on them?”

“Even three pills is only going to give you a mild buzz. Don’t expect to see a yellow submarine or a white rabbit. Just focus on regaining the memories. Take lots of notes, and reconnect with me in four days and I’ll adjust your dosing schedule. Got it?”

“Got it.”

Doctor Dave produces a large, unmarked bottle of about fifty pills from the bookshelf and hands them to me. Separately he hands me his business card. At just that moment Emma returns from the kitchen with a glass of ice water.

“Good night daddy” she says with a hug and a kiss.

“Good night sweetheart” he replies. “I think your friend is going to work out perfectly for my study. Thank you pumpkin.”

“Sounds great, so happy for you daddy. Nighty night Floody.”

[barbiewritesstuff]

So my brain is a lost cause at this point there's just neurons and random sparks but nothing is computing

Like that ever shuts me up though

You were going to pray and you got smutty thoughts because of me !! I shouldn't but I'm totally cackling like a deranged hyena rn im sorry xD

ANYWAY

FUC- THAT WAS TO DIE FOR you made it so much better than it was in my head !!

Now I know you said you’d walk in afterwards but can you imagine being in the meeting? SHIT SHIT SHIT YOU MADE IT BETTER THAT WOULD BE ... FUC- IDEK ?!? THAT WOULD BE SERIOUS MAVERICK LEVEL DANGEROUS BEHAVIOUR THOUGH! THE GLARE CYCLONE SENT ALONE WOULD RENDER YOU TO ASH AT THE SPOT

He’s standing there looking fine - See it ain't even your fault who can resist that man?!?

“Don’t know if my uniform is up to code Admiral…” THAT IS SO CORNY I WOULD TOTALLY SAY THAT THO CACKLING AGAIN

(you’re saved under ‘Brat’ because that’s what you are) OF COURSE IM A BRAT DUHH

Maverick is going over everything he’s done this week just to check whether he’s going to get screamed at, Warlock is shooting daggers at Maverick, the entire team (you pretend because you’re a little shit) is mentally sending their family goodbye letters and exchanging worried glances. I CAN ACTUALLY PICTURE THIS ENTIRE SCENE AND ALL THEIR EXPRESSIONS AND I AM DEAD THIS IS PEAK COMEDY I WANT THIS SO BAD XDDDDD

Hondo, poor, sweet, sweet angel Hondo, who has just accidentally had a very good look at what the Admiral received via text is honestly reconsidering his career because Admiral Simpson is a possessive man. If he finds out Hondo knows, he will kill him. OH FUCK BERNIE YOU'RE DEAD MAN. RUN. V V V V FAR AWAY. (THE ADMIRAL'S GONNA BE A BIT BUSY ANYWAY WINKWINK) poor Bernie tho??? He's probably traumatised for life?? He didn't wanna know that about you?? And definitely not the Admiral hell he won't be looking him in the eye for a month xD Also the image of possessive Beau is just *so good*.

I mean you give him the best performance of your life, especially since he tells you he’s not going to touch you for a week as punishment. NO SHIT DONT DO THAT I'M SORRRYYYY

In conclusion:

I AM DEAD

Glad you got some amusement from my predicament this morning XD

Okay so Cyclone's glare? It almost makes you regret the entire operation. I mean you think the man is going to reach across the conference room and make you pay for it right then and there.

Imean you're ready to beg for forgiveness as soon as he cocks his head sighly to the side and shoots you the look, but at the same time, you also think that Beau is one of those rare people who get hotter the angrier they are. Or maybe that's just because you know what happens when he does get mad?

I mean, let's not kid ourselves, you're pissing him off on purpose, because when he gets past a point, Beau just snaps. And last time he snapped he railed you against his desk until you could no longer speak. You're absolutely trying to recreate that.

But you regret dragging the team into it (not Rooster though, he deserves the twenty minutes of fear he's going to live through for trapping you in a conversation about Star Wars with resident expert Fanboy last Tuesday) because they look like they're absolutely shitting themselves. Especially Hondo.

Because you know he's seen the picture. When Beau opens his phone and sees the picture, Bernie happens to be looking down and he stutters. No one else notices, and you're almost certain it's a coincidence when Hondo briefly glances at you with such a shocked expression. You know what he's thinking. He's already planning the purchase of a foreign passport on the black market, becaude he absolutely can never set foot in San Diego again!! He will never be able to speak to the Admiral without having that stupid picture flash before his eyes!!

And of course Beau's lying through his teeth when he tells you he won't touch you, but he has to make you believe that so you get desperate. He's absolutely going to be balls deep inside you by Wednesday because he needs to relieve the stress Maverick causes him on the daily. And maybe he needs to punish you one more time, you know, just so he knows you got the message.

EDIT: needed to fix so many typos because this prompt just made me dumb, I love it. I may have missed some but you know...

[babyboibucky]

The Match - Part 3

Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky’s becoming extra horny around you in the office.

Word Count: 2,697

Warnings: still smut, boss x employee affair, unprotected sex everywhere, hints at misogyny???

A/N: And a mini series was born 😂 no but honestly, I didn’t expect for parts 1 and 2 of The Match to receive such amazing feedback 😭 I really enjoy reading everyone’s reaction to this series and trust me, all comments keep giving me ideas. Thank you all so much!!!!!!! 😘😘😘 and btw, this part isn’t their promotion “celebration” because that will have a chapter on its own. Long story short, that will be pure porn with no plot at all so stay tuned for that 😂

The Match Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

It’s been a rollercoaster ride since you matched with James— Bucky, on Tinder. Maybe not a literal rollercoaster ride but with how Bucky had you bouncing on his cock as he sat on the couch, or that one time he asked you to sit on his face inside his car, it was a ride nonetheless and an exhilarating one at that.

Despite your relationship with him, the both of you surprisingly managed to keep things professional when there was work involved. Of course there were times when quickies in the office took place, given that Bucky was fucking insatiable (let’s all admit it, so were you). Work was work and you excelled at being the head of your department, but once office hours are over, you excelled more at giving Bucky head.

Oftentimes you found yourself worrying about getting caught. You’ve always been careful but lately, Bucky seemed to be slipping up. He just couldn’t seem to get his hands off of you and he was becoming more and more obvious. You were pretty good at being discreet but sometimes, it was hard not to react to Bucky when he would look at you with a naughty glint in his eyes, a smug smirk tugging at his lips as he watched you present. He’d tilt his head sometimes as he looked at you, lifting a brow as he smirked whenever he was impressed.

You ended up stuttering when he gave you that look one time. It was proud and it made your chest swell and your pussy throb. He rewarded you that night in his office by making you cum on his face twice.

That look was going to be the death of you and he was giving it to you now as you entered the conference room for the monthly mancom meeting. Bucky eyed you as you went around the desk, lifting a brow and pulling the empty chair next to him, commanding you to sit beside him without having to say a word.

You cleared your throat and pulled the chair, noticing how Bucky eyed your ass before you sat down.

“Is everyone here?” He asked after ogling your backside for a good five seconds.

All the department heads affirmed their attendance and soon enough, the meeting began with the HR manager reporting first. Lights were shut off and as soon as the report was projected onto the wall, Bucky began his little game. You were paying attention to the slides being presented until you felt Bucky’s foot nudge your ankle, hooking around it to slightly open up your legs.

You side-eyed him and subtly shook your head. He had never done this in public, at least, not during meetings. So you weren’t sure why he was being so frisky now, placing a hand on your thigh. You grabbed his hand and moved it away gently before slightly moving your seat away from Bucky, crossing your legs in the process.

“What do you think Mister Barnes?” The HR manager asked.

All heads turned towards Bucky, who obviously wasn’t paying attention provided that his hand was trying to sneak back onto your thigh. He cleared his throat and straightened up on his seat, fixing his tie before pursing his lips.

“I’m sorry, can you please repeat that?” He asked and you fought the urge to snort.

“I was wondering if we can hold another seminar about workplace etiquette.” She said.

Bucky hummed, “Do we have problematic employees?” He asked curiously.

The HR manager sighed, a blush creeping up to her face. “There have been rumors going around the office about employees engaging in...lewd acts within the workplace. I thought that we should revisit the topic about workplace code of ethics.” She explained.

You ended up in a coughing fit, quickly apologizing and reasoning out that you were having allergies today. Bucky tensed in his seat but managed to remain calm. He stole a quick glance at you before turning back to the HR manager.

“And have we identified these employees?” He asked, rubbing a hand on his chin. A nervous habit of his, you noticed.

This was what you have been worrying about! Bucky has been fucking you around the office and now everyone was catching on to it. And although you wanted to blame Bucky for this, you knew you were just as much to blame. Damn you and your hormones!

The HR manager shook her head, much to your and Bucky’s relief. “No sir, but some employees have been noticing and hearing things, especially after office hours. Janet for instance, filed a report last week about hearing hushed whispers from the pantry, followed by the creaking sound of the table. The following day, shards of someone’s mug were found in the trash. There was an assumption that there might be employees behaving inappropriately.”

“Oh my god, I’m close. Bucky I’m—“

Bucky’s hand clamped around your mouth as he shushed you, hearing footsteps approach the pantry. You stilled as you nervously watched shadows move beneath the door, but of course, this didn’t stop Bucky from snapping his hips against yours.

His thrusts were slow and languid, but he slammed back in with such force that made the pantry table scratch against the floor. Once the footsteps faded, Bucky wasted no time to get back to fucking you. He lifted your legs up and rested the back of your ankles against his shoulders, slightly bending down over you so he can angle his cock to perfectly hit that one sweet spot.

A single, powerful thrust sent you reeling, your hands finding purchase on the sides of the table.

“Cum, baby. Cum.” Bucky growled.

Another thrust made you gasp out loud, feeling the head of Bucky’s cock nudge against your cervix. One hand reached for his bicep, your nails digging into his dress shirt while the other reached back for the edge of the table only to knock off the mug resting on top.

You made a face when you heard it crash against the floor. The mug was soon forgotten when Bucky leaned down to kiss you, his tongue sliding into your mouth as his hand reached down to rub your clit.

You wiped the sweat on your forehead upon remembering that incident. Fucking Janet just had to file a report. It was after office hours, for fuck’s sake! Who cares what employees do after their shift?!

“I see.” Bucky responded, fixing his suit. “Okay. I approve of the seminar. Who’s next?” He asked, quickly changing the topic as if it was no big deal.

The head of the Finance department began with his presentation and just like that, Bucky returned his hand on top of your thigh, prying your legs open. You turned to him with a look of disbelief on your face. He was acting as if there wasn’t any close call earlier. You couldn’t believe this man, sure he was hot as hell, but you weren’t giving in to him. Not today, not when the both of you were almost caught.

The entire mancom meeting was pretty eventful, with Bucky teasing your legs with his hand despite your half-hearted protests. You hated how Bucky was able to familiarize himself with your body and how it reacted to him. Your eyes might be saying no but with how your legs eventually spread on their own, Bucky knew you were desperate for him too.

-

It was an hour past your shift when you received an e-mail from Bucky with the subject being “Report”. Thinking it was one his follow-up e-mails (Bucky is an impatient man when it comes to the submission of reports and you weren’t an exception) you opened it immediately and choked on your spit when a photo of his dick showed up on your desktop. You started clicking around in an attempt to close his e-mail, but instead of hitting the “x” button, you ended up maximizing the window instead.

“Jesus fucking christ!” You cursed and covered your monitor with your hands as you frantically looked around the office.

It was like a fucking jump scare, like one of those computer pranks asking you to concentrate on a dot before a scary photo would pop out. Except that it was Bucky’s dick that appeared. A dick scare.

Fortunately, you were the only one left in your area since pretty much everyone else scrambled out of the office as soon as work hours were over. It was a Friday after all.

You sighed in relief and quickly scrolled down to see the message beneath the photo of Bucky’s dick.

Need you in my office in ten.

P.S. Bring the report I asked from you the other day.

Best,

Bucky Barnes

Who sends an unsolicited dick pic through e-mail followed by a work reminder? And the signature? It was the cherry on top. Bucky Barnes was something else. Sweet jesus, you really couldn’t believe this man.

Grabbing your report, you marched your way to the elevator and headed up to Bucky’s office. Seeing that his floor was empty, you didn’t even bother knocking on his door and simply barged in.

“I can’t belie— what the fuck?” You called out when you were welcomed with the sight of Bucky leaning back on his chair, his cock out for the world to see as he gently stroked it.

“Need your pretty mouth around my cock, baby.” Bucky cooed with half-lidded eyes.

You huffed out a humorless laugh and shook your head, “I’m not sucking your cock, Bucky.” You refused and walked over to his table, slamming your report on top of it before walking away, but not before stealing another look at his majestic cock.

“Are you mad?” Bucky asked but he was smirking with amusement. He was giving you that look again but you were having none of it tonight.

You stood in front of his desk, keeping a safe distance away from him. Crossing your arms over your chest, you scowled at Bucky and tried your best not to let your eyes fall down to his cock again. Which by the way, he continued to stroke.

“For someone as smart as you, I can’t believe you’re so fucking dense.” You said with irritation when Bucky didn’t seem to understand why you were agitated.

He licked his lips, bucking up his hips when he squeezed the base of his cock. Bucky let out a delicious grunt as he continued to stroke himself. As much as you were salivating at the sight of Bucky’s cock— tip red and swollen, begging to be sucked— you didn’t want to give in.

“You’re fucking priceless, James.” You said, exasperated and turned around, heading towards the door.

You were about to reach onto the door knob when you heard the sound of a zipper followed by the wheels of Bucky’s chair screeching against the floor before a pair of hands grabbed at your waist. Turning you around, you were met with Bucky’s worried face.

“Shit, you’re really mad. Talk to me?” He pleaded, eyes apologetic as he took a step back, urging you to speak up.

“You might want to take a seat because I’ve got quite a list.” You said.

Bucky obeyed and returned to his chair immediately, sitting upright as he looked at you with doe eyes. If you weren’t so mad, you would’ve melted at the sight of him like that. And the Bucky Barnes? The CEO? Obeying you like a good little boy? Huh, what an interesting concept. You mentally took note of a certain kink that you might enjoy. But for now, you were mad at him and you were going to make him understand why.

“Number one, I don’t particularly enjoy it when you tease me in front of everyone else. We talked about staying professional when there’s work involved and what you did during the mancom was definitely not professional.” You told him.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hold back not when your ass looked so fuckin’ tight in that skirt of yours. Can you blame me?” Bucky almost whined.

“Keep it in your pants, Barnes. I’m not yet done.” You reminded him and went over your second point.

“Number two, we almost got caught to the point of the HR deciding to hold a seminar on workplace ethics! Do you know how awkward it would be for me to sit there and listen to scenarios about office misconduct? Most of which we’ve probably done. I’d sweat like a whore in church!” You hissed.

Which scenarios could that be? Fucking inside the janitor’s supply closet? Check. Doing the nasty in one of the bathroom cubicles? Check that twice. Giving a blowjob beside the fax machine during lunch break? Triple check that shit.

“And oh, you sent me a dick pic using your work e-mail! You do know that the IT can access our computers right? Almost gave me a heart attack when it flashed on my monitor.” You asked in a huff.

Bucky snickered, “Are you forgetting that I’m the CEO? Baby, I can easily clean up our mess.” He reassured and stood up, approaching you.

You shook your head, “That’s exactly the point, Bucky. You are the CEO and I’m an employee. You may not understand it but I’m scared. If we get caught, it’s over for me. Whether you have it cleaned up or not, I’d still be the one at risk here. You’ll never be in the same position as I am. People won’t call you names if we get caught. No matter what happens, I’d always get the short end of the stick.”

You didn’t mean to be all serious, talking about the possible misogynistic outcome of your relationship with Bucky. As much as you enjoyed it, it still scared the living daylights out of you. Some were already spreading rumors about your promotion, getting caught would only add fuel to the fire.

Bucky sighed and nodded, “I’m sorry. I didn’t try to understand where you were coming from.” He genuinely apologized.

“If it scares you that much, then let’s make it official.”

You deadpanned at him, “Make what official, Bucky?” You asked, eyebrow raised in curiosity.

Bucky shrugged and motioned his hand between the both of you, “This...us.” He simply said.

You scoffed, “Tell the entire office that we’re fucking every chance we get? Are you out of your mind?”

Bucky ran a hand through his cropped hair, “Not like that. Look, we’ve been at it for what? Two? Three months now? We might as well make this into an official relationship.”

You blushed at Bucky’s suggestion. Sure, you practically jumped at the opportunity to fuck your boss when he asked you. But were you an easy bitch in general? Of course not, even with how thirsty you were for him, you still had a little bit of appreciation for the old-fashioned ways.

Pushing Bucky’s chest away, you shook your head at him. “That’s now how relationships work, Bucky. You can’t fuck your way into my heart.”

Bucky laughed and bit his lip, “Fine. Then I’ll do it properly.” He said so easily you were starting to wonder whether he was fucking with you.

You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously, “I don’t believe you.” You said.

“You will, baby. I’ll make sure of that. We’ll do it old-school.” He said, caressing your cheek.

You were caught off guard but you didn’t want to get your hopes up. Bucky had been an amazing lover and in the past months you’ve fucked, he treated you with respect and took good care of you. He brought you dinner, drove you home and texted you good night. Sometimes he’d text you during the weekends too.

“Old-school it is then.” You shrugged as if it was no big deal but oh, it was a big deal.

Bucky nodded with a grin, “Okay. But...” he trailed, his smile turning upside down in deep thought.

“Does that mean we’d stop fucking each other for the mean time?” He asked.

You snickered, “I said you can’t fuck your way into my heart, not my pussy. So sit down and let me suck your cock.”

-

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[whatifyoulivelikethat]

love letter, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Jeon Jungkook gets love letters shoved in his mailbox and under his apartment door all the damn time. You, too, get love letters shoved in your mailbox and under your door. All the time. It could be a sweet gesture, but this is the twenty-first century. Love letters aren't all they're cracked up to be. 

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; short graphic descriptions of sex acts; smut (fem reader, a very intense make-out session including some wild tongue and too much saliva, nipple play, a bit of m-receiving oral, cowgirl, handjob); non-idol!BTS – technically university, blond, softsub!Jungkook x working, softdom!reader; slightly desperate and needy JK

yes, yes, it’s MTV Unplugged ‘Telepathy’JK

--

"I'm so tired of people thinking they have a chance with me."

Was the exasperated declaration as you backed up into your apartment, only to turn around and witness Jeon Jungkook dumping a waterfall of colorful envelopes from his giant black backpack onto your hardwood floor. 

"At least remove your shoes before you start flaunting how hot you are," you replied dryly.

Jungkook rolled his eyes as he kicked off his large white sneakers. "Look at this shit! It's relentless! It's annoying! I just want to live my life!"

You vaguely recalled Jungkook being excited about his first love letter upon reaching university, and then the second, the third... and now you were staring at pile number five hundred on your doormat. "I don't know, put a sign on your door? 'Please stop, the answer is no?'"

Jungkook winced. "I can't do that. How many hearts am I going to break?"

"Uh, I dunno, you already broke half the campus by existing in general."

He bonked you on the head lightly with his denim jacket sleeve. "I have not. I've only slept with a couple people and that was supposed to be no strings attached."

You shrugged. "People can't understand that. Especially women."

He puffed his cheeks and stepped over the pile. You noticed the small stickers and nice handwriting on the colorful pastel paper. You almost felt bad, seeing all the effort put into them.

"At least they're cute. I only get torn notebook pages with scribbles."

"Stop lying. You get girls' letters too," Jungkook grumbled. "Can I borrow your computer? One of my professors assigned an online quiz and the internet at my place is down, again."

"You gotta move," you commented, kneeling down to collect the mess Jungkook made. You noticed Jungkook flit his eyes about before throwing up his hands and bending down to help you. 

"I'm trying to get out of the lease, but I have a couple more months left," he complained childishly.

"What about your other friends? Can't you go bother them?"

Jungkook frowned, sticking out his lower lip. The tiny mole underneath winked at you. "You hate me now or something?"

You laughed, standing up with a stacked pile of confessions to Jeon Jungkook. "No, I'm just curious as to why you always come here."

He shoved the rest in your arms, his pile slightly messier than yours. "You live the closest and you're usually home. Plus, you have two computers."

"A laptop and a desktop," you corrected. "Don't you have a laptop?"

"It's easier to borrow yours."

"Lazy."

Jungkook ignored your remark and ticked his silvery-blond head further into the apartment. "Can I borrow it or not?"

You laughed. "Of course. Laptop's on the bed."

He turned and followed the hallway to your bedroom. "Same password?" he yelled, not looking back.

"Obviously."

"Why is it my birth date?" he shouted.

"Because, one, no one will guess it, and, two, you're a dumbass and always forget it."

"I do not!"

"How many times did you ask when the password was Klingon?"

"I don't know your nerdy shit!"

"Do your fucking assignment," you belted down the hall. 

Jungkook stuck his head out of your bedroom door and scrunched his nose to make a hideous face at you, holding your gunmetal-colored laptop. You rolled your eyes as he disappeared again. This crackhead. You let out a sigh, walking past the acrylic painting of a blue sky with pink-purple clouds hanging in your living room, flicking through at all the letters addressed to Jungkook.

Surprisingly, you knew what he felt like. With you, it started with inviting one guy over to your place, sucking his dick, and then suddenly a letter appeared. Well, letter was putting it nicely. Dirty napkin with words scrawled with smeared ballpoint pen shoved under your door, explicitly asking for more. Then another, wanting it. Then another, begging for it. You ignored them. At some point, you invited a girl over, ate her out, and then the colorful envelopes started appearing, with cute stickers and neat handwriting.

Mmmhmm.

Why did Jungkook bring them here anyway? To brag? For you to peruse? You spread them out them on your coffee table and tore one open. Read it. Simple confession of love, no name. You were kind of jealous. Jungkook always got nicer ones than you did. Something about being a sexually uninhibited woman seemed to translate to others that you were down to fuck anyone, anytime, anything. You tossed the letter aside, ripped open a folded card closed with lilac tape. Another, 'I love you, please go out with me', no name. Toss. And you opened another one, reading out loud. 

"I want to cram all one hundred and seventy-nine centimeters of you into me?”

Uh.

Huh.

Still no name.

Cute peach stationery though. 

Was it a euphemism? Symbolic? Thinly veiled code? Hm. In any case, this was more along the lines of shamelessness you encountered yourself. 

By all conventions, Jeon Jungkook was attractive as fuck. Pretty pink lips, big brown eyes, manly sharp jawline. He kept his hair on the longer side, around ear length, now silvery-blond compared to the usual black. You heard he dyed it a couple times, but now it had since faded to the original blond.

Oh, yeah, also he had nice hands and a body to die for. 

You could see why Jungkook got all these love letters. You? Well, similar reasons, except less muscles. Also, yours weren't really love letters. More like vulgar remarks on the backs of grubby receipts. 

Probably just as heartfelt.

The only reason you knew of Jungkook was because you were friends with one of his close friends. Alright, maybe you sucked his friend's dick. More than once. But anyway, not the point. The point was that the topic of love letters came up one night when everyone was hanging out and you voiced your predicament. It was the summer before Jungkook entered university. He had burst out laughing, thinking it was a hilarious situation.

"Haha, that would never happen to me!"

Jokes on you, Jungkook, karma's a bitch. 

You thought about moving, but the location was close to your work and the internet service was great here. At least you always recycled the paper. What were you supposed to do? Keep an album of Starbucks napkins of people asking if your tongue was good or not?

You opened another envelope addressed to 'sweet, adorable Jungkookie'.

Their words, not yours. 

"Shove your dick down my throat and make me gag? Smiley face?"

Well, that's a contrast. 

Jungkook didn't start contacting you on his own until the letters started coming and then they didn’t stop coming, flooding his mailbox and underneath his door, overwhelming and confusing him. He didn't think he would get much attention, although perhaps it might be your fault, since you seemed to have set the precedence for this type of thing at this particular university. There was at least one person in every year that got this treatment, and it all started with one dirty napkin with smeared ink. Rumor caught on and then bam! It became a thing. 

So, yeah. 

Maybe kind of your fault.

You shouldn't have told so many people about that napkin. 

You fished out a pizza receipt from the pile, inspecting it. You couldn't find anything out of the ordinary. Then you noticed it had Jungkook's phone number and an order of three pizzas. Not a confession, just trash from Jungkook's backpack. Did he really eat three pizzas? Hopefully not by himself and in one sitting. You noticed the timestamp. Mmm, three in the morning. Okay. Maybe he did eat three pizzas by himself in one sitting. 

You filed through the rest, removing trash from the recyclable paper. Paused when you found a scrap of paper that said, "Put your dick in my ass." You recognized this curvy, narrow handwriting, slightly heavy-handed. Same person wrote you the same note this week. 

This was why you didn't take the messages too seriously.

You saw a particularly thick purple envelope and picked it up, tearing it open. It was several pages, with tiny, crammed handwriting on paper with cute bunnies on it. Several pages detailing straight up porn with Jungkook as the leading role. 

You almost burst out laughing. 

Who the fuck would write this?

And send it to him?

Not you, that's for fucking sure. 

Still, it wasn't the worst thing you've ever read. Had some spelling mistakes and poor grammar. Instant turn-off. Needed a good proofread. You settled onto your brown leather couch, highly entertained as you read it. Then you actually burst out laughing, because said person wanted Jungkook to lift them and fuck them at the same time and that kinda shit just wasn't possible. You would know, because you’ve tried. It sounded good, but in practice, the dick ended up falling out pretty quickly if the pussy was any sort of wet.

If you weren’t wet, then, eh, not sure why you're fucking. 

"What is so fucking funny?" Jungkook grumbled, poking his head around the corner, still holding your laptop. 

You held up the sheets of bunny-printed paper, still laughing. "Someone sent you their written erotica and you're the star!"

Jungkook grimaced. "Oh yeah, that person. They write something new every week. It's weird." He frowned. "I try to take it out so you don't have to read that shit. I must have missed it."

"It's hilarious," you chuckled. "You should publish them into a book."

"You know I can't do that," Jungkook sighed, putting your laptop on the coffee table and snatching the pages from you. "I throw them away like everything else."

"Did you finish your assignment?" you chortled, leaning over to look at the laptop screen. Submission successful. "80%?! When you could easily cheat?"

"I read a question wrong," Jungkook whined, balling up the paper and throwing it down. "Ack."

You looked up at him and he was looking upset at the pile on the table. 

"What's wrong?"

"What if one of them is real?" 

"Huh?"

"I mean... I just throw them away now. But what if one of them is real?" Jungkook wondered out loud. 

You shrugged. "Does it matter? They'll tell you in person if it's that important."

Jungkook tilted his head at you doubtfully. "Will they?"

You sat back into your couch, with your legs wide open. You were wearing sleek black leggings and a cropped pink sweatshirt. Not the most ladylike pose, but you didn't really care. You gestured to the stack of letters on your wooden coffee table. 

"They should. If they actually like you and it's not a joke, then they should tell you in person and accept that they might be rejected."

Jungkook frowned and slumped down next to you. His light-wash denim jacket made a loud floof as his ass hit the brown leather cushions. The wash of his jeans matched his jacket. He wore a white graphic t-shirt under. It looked vintage, but it probably wasn’t. 

"What if they're nervous?" he questioned, twisting his pink lips around.

"So what? Everyone's nervous. We all live in a perpetual state of terror."

Jungkook rolled his eyes. 

You leaned forward and plucked a sky-blue memo note from the table, reading it out loud. "I love you. Marry me." You held it out to him. "See? You get nice ones. I get, ‘choke me like you hate me’ and 'shove your tongue into my asshole, please'. Rarely do I get is that please at the end," you finished with a dry laugh. You looked up to see Jungkook staring back at you. Your laugh died a little seeing his serious expression. 

"Yes."

You blinked at him. "What?"

Jungkook ticked his chin to the note, then shifted his eyes to you.

You pointed to the memo sheet and raised an eyebrow. "I didn't write this."

"I did."

He was so serious that you couldn't laugh. You just blinked at him rapidly and turned your head to look at the sky-blue memo sheet, finally recognizing the clean, block-like handwriting and spotting the bottom right corner. English letters. A J and a K fused together, the way Jungkook usually signed his paintings.

You dropped the note like it was on fire.

Jerked your head up, not to him, but to the painting across from you in the living room, the one with the blue sky and pink-purple clouds, with a tiny JK signature in black at the bottom right corner. The painting you asked Jungkook to make you a while back. 

"You paint, right? I want something calm for my living room. I bought a canvas, so about this size. It's that cool?"

Jungkook had squinted his eyes, nodding. "Yeah, I could draw a pretty big dick on it."

"This is for my living room, dumbass. And I said I wanted something calm."

"A flaccid dick then."

You turned your head back to Jungkook of now, who was wringing his hands on his thighs, wiping off his palms. He noticed you watching him and puffed one cheek before letting out a big sigh. 

"I was... gonna leave it on your laptop," Jungkook mumbled, flapping a hand to the sky-blue note. "But I couldn't find it in my backpack, and then I realized one of the pockets was open, the one where I keep receipts... anyway I had put the note there, so I came out to see if it was in the pile... yup, there it is."

He sucked in his cheek and fell back against the leather sofa.

"Was a joke."

Jungkook's voice sounded hollow. Empty. 

"... Ah." You tucked the tip of your tongue in your cheek.

"Not the greatest joke," he added flatly.

“No, it’s not,” you agreed. "Jokes that are insincere are bad jokes."

The black words glared back up at you, contrasting the pale azure paper. You picked up the memo sheet again. Turned to face him, holding it up next to Jungkook's head of silvery-blond hair. He pursed his lips and looked away from you, jaw clenched in nervousness. 

"Just say it."

He puffed one cheek again. "It was a joke."

"Then why are you saying it in past tense?"

His brown orbs shifted from side to side before Jungkook tried to bolt out of his seat, only for you to slam a hand down on his shoulder and throw a leg over him, straddling his lap before pinning the note to his chest. He yelped sharply and looked up at you with huge, shaking irises. 

In all your time knowing him, you never tried to sleep with Jungkook.

Never. 

You jabbed the note into his white shirt and he gave you a terrified squeak in response. 

You scrutinized his face, jaw slack, eyes wide, blond curls framing his chiseled cheekbones. One of your eyebrows raised, your voice calm and unfazed.

"Say it."

"You say it," Jungkook finally shot back, furrowing his brows, biting on his lip and mustering up the most indignant look he could produce at this very second. You didn’t react. He seemed to have forgotten you did, in fact, say it, although perhaps that wasn’t exactly what he meant.

You never tried to fuck Jungkook because he didn’t treat you as anything more than his primary source of internet when his own was down. Ah, and also his outlet for complaining about his love letter problem. And then there was that other little wrinkle, the unwritten societal rule one of sucking a guy's dick you're still friends with - don't suck his friends' dicks. Surefire way to fuck up a friendship, especially if the dude’s ego was fragile.

Jungkook’s friend was dating someone else now though. His ego couldn’t be that fragile.

You leaned forward and Jungkook's annoyed gaze faltered. He gulped and tried to shrink into your brown leather couch, as if he could somehow disappear under you.

"I love you," you stated clearly and firmly. You glanced at the slightly crumpled piece of blue paper before your eyes flickered back to his face. "Marry me."

Hah, the thing about rules with you was...

Fuck 'em.

Not actually. 

Eh, not the point.

"Really?" Jungkook squeaked, voice cracking slightly.

Ah, right, the other reason you never tried to sex up Jungkook because he was a little bit of an idiot around you. But maybe this sky-blue note detailed the reason for it. 

"Say it," you repeated crossly, poking him in the pecs. "Stop avoiding it."

You observed Jungkook swallow hard again, Adam’s apple bobbing. You furrowed your brows, tipping your head down so that your forehead was hovering over his, eyebrow cocked, gazing into trembling brown orbs. Why was he taking so long? He wrote the damn words. Were they really just a joke? Hmph, why were you even trying then?

That’s how everyone was.

Not putting any stock or thought into their fucking words.

You lifted your finger but Jungkook’s right hand, the one with tiny tattoos, suddenly darted in your view, grabbing your hand back and jamming your finger onto his chest again. His heartbeat raced under your fingertip, thud-thud-thud, rapid bass accenting the moment. Electrifying it.

“Don’t.”

Whisper so faint you frowned and closed even more distance between you two, picking up the scent of vanilla fabric softener and lush cotton. A little different than you, who used a blackberry and spiced vanilla perfume.

“I like this,” Jungkook breathed under you, chewing his lip anxiously. You could feel his warm breath tickling your lips and chin with how close you were. You could count his individual eyebrow hairs, even though the eyebrow product he used.

“I… really like this.”

He let go of your hand.

Now you raised both eyebrows.

You slowly uncurled your middle finger, landing it on his chest next to the index. You felt him shiver a little, lips parting. Straightened your ring finger, planting it down. His lashes lowered a little, brown orbs on your face, watching your reaction to him. You could count the moles on his face. The one on his nose. The one on his cheek. The one under his lower lip. The one on his neck. Your pinky slid onto his chest. A wispy moan left his lips, eyelids fluttering, blond strands floating around his head with the little rise and fall of his heavy, tense exhale.

Why is it your birth date?

Take a wild guess, dumbass.

Your fingers abruptly dug into his white t-shirt, crumpling the note and scrunching the graphic up in your fist. He inhaled sharply, head tipping back and lips nearing yours, a whine escaping his throat. You quirked an eyebrow, drawing back slightly, taking in the rich depth of his tan skin, the sensual line of his neck, up to his angular chin and his dangling silver earrings. All of it. His hands immediately came up to grab your wrist and forearm, ensuring you and himself that you wouldn’t let go, the tendons in your flexed wrist right against his large palm.

“Say it, Jungkook,” you demanded. “Say those words with your pretty pink tongue hanging out your mouth for me.”

You watched him obey immediately, tongue sliding out and touching his lower lip, brown eyes framed by his long lashes and hazy with lust.

“I love you,” Jungkook breathed, a little gargled with his tongue out. “Fucking marry me, please.”

Ah, you couldn't help it. 

You smirked.

"What about all your admirers?" you murmured, twisting your fingers in his shirt, digging your nails into his chest. "You'll break all those poor hearts you’re worried about."

Those dark brown eyes told you they didn't give a single fuck. 

"What about you?" he countered, closing his mouth a little to speak more clearly.

"Me?"

The definition of trouble?

Well, if you looked that up in a dictionary, there would definitely be a picture of you. 

Jungkook’s lips parted once more, keen to submit to your wickedness, pink tongue slipping out again, shiny and glistening with saliva. Breathing shallowly, rubbing your wrist with his thumb, encouraging you to keep going. 

Your lips curved into a treacherous smile.

"I'll break all the hearts to get to yours, Jungkook."

And then you licked his tongue. 

A low moan bubbled from Jungkook's chest, his eyes rolling back and his hips bucking up, desperate for friction as the tip of your wet muscle glided over his warm softness, your spit dripping down his throat, listening to his moans turn into messy garbles of your name, begging you, pleading you, more, more, kiss me, please, and you hooked your tongue around his, gently nudging his jaw with your other hand. Knuckle to chin, tilting your head as your lips closed onto Jungkook's. 

It was not a neat kiss.

There was spit running down his chin, dripping onto his neck and your skin, your lips roughly working his, tongues intertwined and making even more of a mess, you sucking forcefully to earn pained, delicious whines. Jungkook was far too turned on to attempt to glamorize it, cries a jumbled mess under your greedy mouth, but none of that mattered. The moment was sensual and dark, bodies speaking to each other through dopamine and adrenaline. Your hand released his shirt, breaking his grip, switching to burrowing your fingers into his soft blond hair and running your nails over his scalp, leaving lines of prickling pain to enhance your kiss. 

"F-Fuck, oh fuck, yes..."

Your teeth caught his tongue, pulling back and forcing his head to follow. Jungkook made a pained noise, trapped in your embrace, whining as you took him to the brink. You released him swiftly and he snapped backward, blinking hard, trying to reorient himself, but it was impossible, your lips crashing down again, thrusting your tongue into his mouth aggressively, one eye open to witness his fucked-out state, pupils unfocused, long lashes quivering, moaning into your mouth and you inhaling it all, literally taking his breath away. 

It started out with a kiss. 

How did it end up like this?

It was only a kiss. 

It was only a kiss. 

You dropped your lower half onto his crotch and Jungkook gasped, breaking the kiss, strings of spit breaking between you two. You smirked wickedly as you felt his hardness trying to escape its clothing jail, his large hands already on your thighs and hips, sinking his fingers into the soft fabric of your leggings, rocking you into him, desperately trying to get some stimulation.

"Please," he croaked, panting for breath, pulling himself up to sitting position, so easy and smooth, fuck, so sexy, and now Jungkook was in your face, pleas on the tip of his tongue pouring out, tempting you, wanting it. 

"Please, wanna be yours so fucking bad, seeing all those fucking letters and notes you get, and it pisses me off, it's me, I want it to be me, I want to be yours and I'm telling you to your face." 

Whisper achingly hot, deep voice soaked with longing, staring into your eyes with those shaking brown orbs, spinning with emotion like an unstable top, barely enough torque holding it in place and all it took was another spin to encourage it or a gust of rejection to topple it over. 

"And you don't even care about mine, you think they're fucking funny, fuck, I can't stand it, let it be me, please..."

His hands running up your sides, grazing against your breasts, and now his hands were in your hair and yours were in his, bringing your face close, the crumpled sky-blue note right between your joined crotches, forgotten, witnessing the agonizing lust wound tightly in this embrace. 

"Let it be me," Jungkook begged.

You licked your lips slowly, scarcely swiping against his. He shuddered, leaning into it, taking whatever crumbs you gave. His long fingers tensed in your hair, yours buried in the dark roots of his. 

"You'll have to skip the marriage bit for now," you teased lightly. "I don't think my parents will appreciate you slapping down papers before you finish school."

Jungkook snickered, tucking his tongue in his cheek roguishly. "Can't they understand I have to snatch this ass as soon as possible to make people back off?"

Your hands slipped down to his jaw, fitting it in your palms, his silvery-blond stands wrapped around your fingertips. "They'll back off my door once they hear you screaming my name." 

You leaned in, but Jungkook stopped you, brown orbs glittering with mischief to get in one more quip. 

"I doubt it," he purred. 

Yeah. 

Jungkook was right. 

Ah, well. 

You seized his face and kissed him again, fuck, such malleable lips just pleading to be bitten by you, gazing up his nose and to his beautiful eyes, his soft skin in your hands, clenching his jaw under your power, letting you have it, letting you control it and him. You felt him scramble and throw his denim jacket off, dumping it onto your couch to cup your cheeks with his hands, sighing in satisfaction as you inhaled him. Your tongue lazily traced the outskirts of his lips, hearing the rattle of his beaded bracelets by your ears, amused, knowing they were his good luck charms. 

"They bring good luck," he had answered when you saw them for the first time.

You remembered tilting your head at the wooden beads on his slim wrists. "You trying to get your dick sucked or something?"

He had broken out in a loud guffaw. Nudged you with his elbow, cheeky smile on his lips. 

"Never gonna say no to getting my dick sucked."

"Mhm, cool, where's my painting of the flaccid dick?"

From then on, you noticed he wore the same wooden, beaded bracelets every time he came to your apartment.

Hmm. 

Now, your hands falling from his face, yanking his shirt from his pants, annoyed it was getting caught, and then Jungkook fitted his hands around your ass and lifted you easily, breaking the kiss, a moment for you to bear witness to his arms flexing – holy fuck, that’s sexy – right one covered in tattoos. Images and script, with one catching your eye, a string of words running up the inside of his upper arm. One you recognized because you had those words written on your bedroom wall, on a canvas hanging above your bed. A canvas you made, background a chaotic mess of varying dark red brushstrokes, the black script in the center, written by your hand. 

The exact black script with your flourishes and ticks, now tattooed on the inside of his right arm. 

Your eyes drifted to Jungkook's face and his naughty smirk, pleased to be found out. Your lips formed the sentence slowly, in awe of his audacity.

"The devil knows my name."

the devil knows my name. 

Hung above your bed, where all manner of marvelous sinful acts were performed. 

Jungkook grinned deviously. "I saw it. I wanted it on me."

Wanted it on him. 

Oh, fuck. 

Did he know? Could he guess?

"Who's the devil?" you whispered, smile widening, matching his. 

Jungkook reached down, yanking his t-shirt out of his jeans and pulling it up and over his head, revealing the body he sculpted himself, tan skin taut over hard muscle, toned and...

"You're the devil, of course," he snickered. 

Yours. 

"Ding dong daeng," you sing-songed.

How many people have been on your bed, head pulled back by your hand, blinking hard, trying to read the words on your wall through waves of forced ecstasy? Gasping them out, ending with a question, inquiring for an answer.

The devil knows my name?

And you, leaning forward, haunting whisper in their ears, yes, she does, before pushing their face down into the sheets.

"All those love letters not good enough for you, Jungkook?" you breathed, running your hands over his bare chest, spreading your fingers, letting your exhale out through your teeth. His eyes on you, torso trembling, hairs raising, feeling your nails dance up, up, raking over his collarbones and neck, leaving little pink lines of intensity.

"They're not you," he whispered. His hands brushing over yours, outlining your fingers, eyes darkening as you pushed him back into your sofa, lowering your head. "You, the one they talk about..." Your lips on his hot skin, kissing softly, tongue so slight that it made him whimper. "You, the one they look for..." His voice, deep and rumbling, vibrating your lips, pitching as you bit and sucked, leaving small hickeys. "You, the one whose bed I sit on, wondering who else has been there, wondering why it's not me, when I make myself available to you, so easy to prey on, but you let me be..." Your lips closing around his dark brown nipple, scraping your teeth against it, making him squirm and look down at you, you and your self-satisfied, ravenous smirk. 

"I let you read them," Jungkook whimpered, blond strands curled around his cheeks, chest shuddering at your nail flicking his other nipple while your mouth worked the other. "Let you see everything they want to do to me and you still didn't know."

You chuckled darkly. "What's there to know?" you mused, sticking your tongue out and pressing it against the now hard pink-tinged nub, receiving small whines of pleasure as your reward. "It's obvious what you wanted. I was right in front of you. All you had to do was say something."

Jungkook frowned as you sat up, tongue in cheek, half-grinning.

"Look at you."

You crossed your arms and pulled your pink cropped sweatshirt up and over your head, dropping it to the floor. Casually running a hand through the top of your hair to pull it away from your face, gazing down at shirtless Jungkook covered in your red bites, cocking your head with a smirk. He raised an eyebrow, eyes roaming over your figure and the curve of your breasts molded to smooth black satin. 

"You look like you eat hearts for breakfast," he murmured, admiration in his tone.

The side of your lips quirked further upwards.

"And yet you wanna love me."

Jungkook grinned. "I don't want to. I already do."

And then he was the one to pull you to him, kissing you hungrily, you immediately turning it into your favor, your pace, his tongue commanded by yours as he unhooked your bra, moaning into your mouth, rubbing your exposed nipples with his palms, unable to do much as you pushed him into the couch again, guiding his tongue down with your teeth and running the tip of yours over his wet muscle once more, trickling saliva into his throat and onto his chin and neck, messy and lewd. 

"The devil knows your name," you sighed into his mouth, feeling him knead your breasts, thumbs brushing over your hard nipples, tendrils of pleasure making your skin tingle. "And now the devil takes what she wants."

You saw the sides of his lips curve upwards as you backed up to strip the rest of your clothes, amused at Jungkook eagerly following suit and unbuttoning his jeans.

"Can't wait to flaunt how hot you are?" you laughed, reaching down to the shelf under the side table where a ceramic R2-D2 cookie jar sat.

"Do you think I'm hot?" Jungkook haughtily accused before gawking at your waist to ass ratio, his hands slowing, pants stopped to his knees in his distraction.

You gently took off the head of R2-D2 and plucked a condom from it. Some guy told you once that you couldn't like Star Trek and Star Wars at the same time and you told him to shut the fuck up as you slapped his nuts. He begged you to do it again. You fondly patted R2-D2's head after you fitted it back.

You straightened to see Jungkook on your couch with his hard dick on display.

You looked him dead in the eye. "You think I'd let you borrow my laptop if I thought you were ugly?"

Jungkook broke out of his trance and shrugged, finally yanking his calves – holy shit, his calves and thighs were muscular as fuck – out of his jeans, underwear and socks gone with them.

"Maybe you pitied my grades."

"I'd just pay for you to go to the library and fuck off, dumbass," you muttered, pushing his hands aside and ripping the condom open, drinking in the delicious sight of his throbbing red cock dripping pre-cum, his balls just waiting for – fuck it, you got down on your knees and wrapped your tongue around his length, Jungkook sputtering and gasping at your suddenness. Fuck, he smelled and tasted fucking good, clean and velvety to your lips enclosing around the head and sliding down, using one hand to scoop up his balls. Made eye contact with him again.

Jungkook breathed your name hesitantly.

Your tongue slid out of your lips and you jammed his cock all the way down your throat, slathering his balls wetly with your whisking tongue, circling around one and then the other, long expansive strokes that went past the girth of his cock, your pink tongue visible to him. Jungkook's pupils blew wide with shock, moans catching in his throat, whole body shivering, trying desperately not to look away even through you could tell he wanted to throw himself into your sofa and fucking lose it.

"Oooooooh, fuck, that's amazing.... Holy shit, your tongue is everything...."

You chuckled and pulled your head back, satisfied with his reaction. He seemed slightly disappointed until you rolled down the condom, cracking your neck.

"I think I've given enough." You stood up, getting back on top of him and his glorious thighs. "Time for you to be taken."

Jungkook smirked.

You smirked wider and more wickedly.

The sky-blue memo was crumpled into a ball, fallen to your hardwood floor.

Held him with two fingers, ugh, the weight of his cock, fuck yes, and those beautiful dark chocolate eyes, Jungkook, you dumbass, cursing that he didn't tell you sooner so that you could watch him groan and throw his head back like he was right now, gasping at your tightness, your name torn from his throat as you took in every centimeter of him, every pulsing vein and contour of his wonderful cock, stupid Jungkook and his attractive self not using his damn words so you could ride him like you were right now, setting up a fast, bruising pace. Your fingers dug into the back of the couch as you bucked your hips into his violently, keeping yourself tight because you were so fucking wet, fuck, so wet for Jeon Jungkook and his idiotic self, asking for internet to do his school assignments and not asking for his dick to be used as your fucking joystick. 

Dumbass.

"Oh fuck," Jungkook gasped. "Oh, fuck, you're so wet and tight, shit, shit, shit..."

"Tell me something I haven't heard before," you chuckled, only half-meaning it, waving your entire body to deliver a particularly hard smack to his crotch, Jungkook whimpering under you, his hands flying to your upper arms and clutching them, trying to hold on to your wildness.

"Holy fuck, you have some hard biceps," he blurted out, startled at the prominent muscle.

Well, you haven't heard that one before.

"Guess that's what happens when you jack off a lot of dick," you mused nonchalantly.

You ticked your head to Jungkook's arms – delicious – and he frowned at you, opening his mouth to protest and you cut him off by shoving two fingers into his lips, pressing them down into the wet warmth, grinning maniacally as you watched him struggle with your fingers rubbing his tongue and his cock getting assaulted by you aggressively slamming your hips down and clamping around his stiffness, tighter, faster, whines of your name in his throat, head falling back onto the couch with a flump. You were careful not to push your fingers too far. 

Getting vomited on wasn't really on your sexual activities bingo card.

Jungkook was, however, drooling down his chin and neck, and you pulled back to grab his shoulder with your wet hand – oh, fuck, his shoulder, what a lovely shape – and Jungkook wheezed for breath, you ignoring it as you focused all your energy on fucking the life out of him, dirty squelches and smacks of hips on hips, staring down at his abs and v-line, all his hard work at the gym on display, his hands still on your upper arms as he raised his hips to meet yours, needily moaning for you to destroy him with your pace.

Damn, maybe you would have sent him a love letter if you had seen him naked at least once.

"A-Ask me to cum for you," Jungkook finally got out, voice hoarse from breathing so hard for so long.

"You're going to anyway," you taunted.

"Want you to ask," he whined, almost pouting. "Tell me to do it."

You gazed into his eyes, into those brown irises overtaken by black pupils, him a top spinning by your hand, your plaything commanded by your body, pussy clenching around his twitching cock, spurred on from his pleading tone, giving him a devious and wicked grin, speaking to his swollen lips, the devil knows your name, Jungkook, and him moaning back, fuck yes she does, so close, so fucking close, unashamedly barreling towards your release, power in your veins and under you, his muscles rippling as he fucked you back, amplifying every thrust.

"Jungkook."

"Y-Yes?"

"Say it."

Brown eyes locked with yours.

"I love you. Marry me."

You smirked.

"Cum for me."

A half-second and then you let go, letting the feeling rush in and envelop you, the moment held back to torture him, and now you felt it all, already at the tipping point, strained moan as your orgasm crashed into you, shudders all over and falling, sitting all the way down in his lap to experience the throbbing ache of your core giving out and spilling onto his cock and balls in rapid bursts, viscous and sweet. The scent of sex mixing with blackberry and spiced vanilla, his length jerking inside you, and only then did you hear Jungkook crying out your name over and over, the roar in your ears fading out to his shivering moans, hands sliding up and down your arms, eyes closing and lost in the pleasure of your pussy squeezing out his cum. His touch travelling down to your waist, pulling you to him.

Messy, soft kisses, your name and curses mixed together.

"It's me, right?"

You smiled into his mouth that was still asking questions.

"Please let it be me. You'll let me love you for real, right?"

Pushing your hair back, his sweaty blond locks sticking to your face.

"Because I already do, can't stop, won't stop–"

"Yeah, Jungkook, funnily enough I figured that from the first kiss already," you chuckled, running your fingers through his ash blond hair and pulling his head back lightly, seeing him pout, the mole underneath his lower lip peeking out.

"But..."

"Hm?"

His voice suddenly small, vulnerable, his semi-hard dick still inside you.

"Do you love me?"

You lifted a brow. "What kind of dumbass question is that?" You grabbed his arm and pressed your nail into his tattoo of your words, drawing a pink scratch under them, making him gasp. "How can I not love you? Fuck, that's the sexiest thing I've ever seen, my handwriting tattooed onto you. Yes, I love you, Jungkook."

Jungkook's jaw dropped.

This fool is still shocked after all this?

You reached down and held the condom down as you lifted yourself off, yanking him to his feet, pushing Jungkook to your coffee table, right in front of the pile of letters with his name all over them. You picked up your laptop and pushed it onto his chest, forcing him to hold it, him still confused, mildly stunned, not knowing what the fuck was happening.

Then you made him half-straddle your coffee table and yanked off the condom.

"Um–"

Grabbed his cock and started furiously jacking him off.

"Oh, f-fuck!"'

And then he realized what you were doing, the sheer wrongness of it, getting harder and harder with every second, throbbing in your hand.

"You're just like them," you chuckled through exerted breath.

Faster, rougher, tighter, Jungkook clutching your laptop, his larger frame leaning against yours, head thrown back so far that his blond hair was brushing your shoulder, moaning lustfully as he thrusted his hips into your grip. White pooled onto the purple-red tip of his abused cock, far too sensitive to be jacked off this hard right after orgasm, but Jungkook begged you not to stop, streams of residual cum running down your slicked fingers.

"Always looking for your fix from the addiction that's me," you whispered into his ear, laced with an authoritative growl. 

You saw Jungkook's head lower out of your periphery, eyes opening, staring at the colorful envelopes with his name printed on them, the cute stickers and neat handwriting, panting your name, tendons and veins standing out on his neck, sweat beading on his tan skin. 

A low, dangerous chuckle rising in his throat. 

"There's a difference between them and me."

You felt his cock twitch in your hand, ridiculously hard at what you two were about to do. 

"They're not going to get their fix."

Jungkook shuddered against you, jerking his hips forward, thick white strings splattering all over the pastel paper as you watched, fascinated, the scent of his cum saturating the air and the envelopes, drops soaking and smearing the carefully written ink, time wasted and defiled. 

"I am," he moaned, twisting his body on your arms, leaning down to kiss you hungrily as you squeezed his cock, draining it all out, all over your coffee table and coating your hand, stained with Jeon Jungkook's love letter to you. 

--

masterpost

[get-shiggy-with-it]

Ch. 1

Shigaraki Birthday Week! MINORS DNI DO NOT PUT THIS ON TIKTOK

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x fem!reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: reader is marked fem cause Tomura is a little sexist and hates you cause you’re a woman, no pronouns, incel!shiggy, collage au/no quirks, tomura is an asshole, gratuitous swearing, like so much, shiggy has a dirty mouth, mentions of shigs being anxious, let me know if I’ve missed something

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6

Summary: Tomura gets stuck taking an English class to graduate and is partnered with you, a bitchy try hard (his words not mine) for his final project. But over the course of the semester he finds that while he hates everyone, he might hate you just a little...less. 

AO3 mirror

The door at the back of the room creaked open and jarred Tomura from his half-sleep state. He didn’t look at who’d bothered to slip into this fucking class late, and instead tried to let the prof’s inane droning on Timothy Whoever The Fuck’s 18th weirdo letter book lull him into day dreaming. 

He only made it about a quarter of the way back into his boredom induced coma until he was dragged unwillingly into wakefulness once more. 

“Sorry, could you plug this in for me?” 

Tomura jumped again when you leaned over to whisper to him, computer charger in one hand, gesturing to the outlet on the wall by his head. You’d left the typical courtesy seat empty between the two of you and he stared blankly at the way you leaned your weight on the vacant chair. 

He recognized you.

The classic, dumbass teacher's pet who was always front and center of the room, iced drink at the ready looking like you belonged on the set of some god awful college b movie. 

Well, almost always. You certainly had that loud ass drink, but you’d tucked yourself at the end of his row towards the back of the room and was clearly a bit embarrassed for bursting in almost 15 minutes late. 

Tomura swallowed hard as your shirt gaped in the front. It took an immense amount of control to not gaze outright into the swell of your chest. 

“You good?” you asked softly, head cocked like you were straight out of a fucking manga panel—tits on display with that stupid innocent, puzzled expression.  

“Uh yeah, sorry,” Tomura mumbled. 

You offered him this gross, clearly fake smile—because why the hell would you be grinning like that if it wasn’t just because you wanted something from him—as he threaded the cord behind his chair and plugged it in. 

“Thanks,” you replied and turned back towards the professor, typing away cause you actually take notes in this class. 

Of fucking course you did. 

Probably trying to impress everyone with how you typed practically every word the prof said. Tomura decidedly did not take notes, and didn’t really pay that much attention in general. Usually he just played some trashy phone game under the desk or dozed with his head against the cement wall. 

It had gotten to that portion of the semester when it was warmer outside but the buildings still had the heat cranked all the way up, especially here in the basement where the classroom was. That environment along with his usual hoodie/joggers combo created grade A napping conditions that Tomura took full advantage of. 

As a rule, he actually cared about school and he did relatively well. But this was just some dumbass liberal arts requirement course that had nothing to do with his actual major, so he was perfectly fine with coasting. Why his comp sci degree required him to take a fucking Restoration era English class, he had no clue. Apparently neither did his advisor other than that the ‘administration recommended it’ so their students would have a ‘well rounded learning experience.’ 

It was almost certainly just a cash grab to make him take more credits than was necessary to graduate, but whatever. He was here now. And so were you. Your presence was overwhelmingly clear, typing away and smelling like one of those insanely specific laundry detergent label scents—fucking rolling meadows and grandmother’s clean linen or something like that. 

He’d never sat this close to you before, but that didn’t stop you from annoying the shit out of him for the previous whole half semester and going since it was just now passing midterms. Long enough for him to have pegged you as a textbook try-hard, pick-me bitch. You contributed to discussion at every opportunity, turned in shit early, and debated other classmates regularly enough to disrupt his in-course sleep schedule. 

The way you dressed pissed him off too, with a particular style that was enough to stand out but not so over the top that it would cause disinterest from any potential mates.

And now you were filling his corner of the room with the overpowering smell of freshly washed hair and demanding he do things for you. 

Fucking disgusting. 

“Tomura Shigaraki.”

He jumped a third time, attention directed from his lap to the front of the room where the prof stood, listing out names from the board. He heard your name next followed by Kai Chisaki. The list was projected on the board as well, grouping everyone into twos or threes with “Final Project Partners” listed in bold Helvetica font at the top. 

Only fucking English profs used Helvetica. 

He vaguely remembered mentions of a final presentation—one of like three grades in this class cause the prof was almost certainly a sadist. 

No, not almost—definitely. Otherwise he wouldn’t have stuck him with you and that weirdo Kai pre-med student who insisted on acting so elitist you’d think he already had his fucking M.D. 

One time he asked Tomura to move seats at the start of the semester because he looked “dirty” and Kai liked to sit in the back—which, fair enough, it wasn’t like Tomura showered as frequently as he probably should but what the fuck??  

With you rushing in late, chest out and panting every now and again from your apparent sprint across campus, Tomura was certain he’d be subjected to a whole 6 weeks of watching you try to mount that fucking Kai dude instead of actually working. 

This was going to be a nightmare. 

From the end of the table, he saw you shifting and turned to find that stupid fucking smile flashed his way once again. 

If you had a tail, he’d bet it would be wagging. 

“Hey, well that’s convenient,” you chuckled and plopped down directly next to him, sliding your noisy ass drink across the table with you and brushing against his thigh when you shifted your bag to the side. 

“Yeah,” he nodded.

It most certainly was not. 

But Tomura would never say that because—as his roommate put it so kindly—he was kinda a pussy. 

People made him nervous, they always had. That’s why he liked computers so much. Code made sense, there were clear rules and when something didn’t work out, he could fix it eventually, but you couldn’t see people’s codes. You had to fucking guess at shit and it made his anxiety skyrocket which the sides of his neck and finger tips suffered for. 

So he cowered like the fucking dog you probably thought he was instead and kept his eyes on the floor, letting you set up in silence. 

“Who was our third?” you asked, glancing around the room. “Sorry, I was busy making a shared drive and I came in  late so I missed that last bit.”

Why the hell did you feel the need to apologize all the goddamn time? Seriously, who would believe you were actually sorry for being irritating as hell. 

And god if he thought you were irritating. 

“Kai,” he grumbled simply as the man in question sauntered over to the table and fucking Clorox wiped down the seat before sitting.  

Tomura watched your smile falter just a bit and grinned inwardly at the slip in your fake little persona. But you didn’t say anything more, just moved your chair back so the three of you were in a semi-circle and pulled up a few pdfs on your laptop. 

“Cool, so I was looking over the directions on the syllabus last week and I set up a little work delegation thing so we can distribute everything pretty evenly,” you jumped right in, tone matter of fact in the down-to-business manner he was used to hearing from you during class discussions. 

It was better than you so clearly forcing yourself to be overly polite, and he honestly couldn’t really care less if you wanted to take charge of this thing. You seemed kinda bossy, but he begrudgingly admitted that your suck up behavior did mean you sort of knew what you were talking about. He was just here to pass and you might actually make that a lot easier. 

It was okay as long as he was taking advantage of you, he told himself. And you would be too stupid to notice, so he could play your game and play pretend nice all the way to an A. 

That walking condescension on the other hand— 

“I’m not doing that,” Kai huffed through his ever-present mask. 

Tomura wasn’t actually sure he’d ever seen the bastards face without it. 

“What?” you laughed awkwardly. “Yes you are, you don’t really have much of a choice.” 

You stared at your classmate who simply stared right back with his own, equally confused expression. 

“Why do you look so surprised?” you asked after a moment of silence. 

You weren’t smiling anymore and your voice had dropped down about a fucking octave. At least you sounded more like a person and not some wannabe uwu gamer bitch.

“People don’t talk to me like that,” Kai looked at you down his nose, legs spread wide and elbow resting on his knees. 

Tomura could feel the pretentiousness wafting from him in waves, and waited with bated breath for you to get kicked off your pedestal. Just a bit though, he did need you around to do most of his work for this thing. 

But in a shocking turn of events, you just laughed dryly twice and turned back to your laptop screen, mumbling as you did. 

“Really? Well they should.” 

Tomura would have laughed too, but he didn’t feel like inflating your ego. Kai on the other hand looked a bit like you’d just spit on shoes and furrowed those stupid, plucked thin eyebrows at the back of your head. 

“So Tomura, you code right?” you asked, turning away from Kai completely to address him. “I just remember you saying you were in comp sci when we did introductions.” 

He was taken aback by the knowledge that he existed as a person in your head outside of this room for a moment and simply nodded—suddenly feeling far too hot in his black on black sweats and hoodie. 

God just talking to you made his skin burn. 

“Great, cause we’re allowed to chose the medium we present in and I was thinking of taking it in a more creative direction cause I’ve had this prof before and he eats that shit up,” you begin to ramble again, scrolling through a bulleted list, shifting the screen for him to see. 

“Right,” he murmured, still surprised you’d thought this far and not...actively hating what you’d brainstormed. 

Well, it was a bit juvenile and you clearly didn’t know what you were talking about but the concept wasn’t horrendous. He could work with that and it shouldn’t be too hard. It kinda seemed like you’d overestimated a bit with how challenging it would actually be and saddled yourself with most of the heavy lifting. That or you were just a control freak which was a little more believable.

He wished you would stop looking at him over the edge of the screen. He could feel himself starting to sweat. Rivulets falling down the nape of his neck and racing across his bare chest under the sweatshirt. Tomura sorta regretted not wearing a shirt underneath but he knew that he wouldn’t have taken off the insulating layer even if that had been an option. 

It would just mean you had more drying, pale as fuck skin to look at and judge him for because he knew that’s what you were doing. Fucking vapid and shallow like everyone else. 

“It’s really rough so far, but I have it the gist outlined,” you indicated to another tab and then turned back to Kai who had been sitting silently glaring daggers into your back. “So, Kai, since you’re in STEM I figured you’d be okay with doing more of the preliminary research—”

“I don’t think so,” Kai interrupted, shaking his head and pushing off his knees to lean back in the cheap, plastic seat. “Look, it’ll be easier for all of us if you two just make it look pretty and I can handle the oral presentation.” 

You gaped and looked to Tomura with this pathetic fucking incredulous stare, like you thought he’d back you up. 

Which actually, now that he thought about it was probably a good idea—he did need you to remain somewhat cordial with him—but he certainly didn’t care enough to defend you in any way. Kai was a dick, sure, but he wasn’t gonna let you rope him into being your white knight or whatever. 

He settled for a similarly disgruntled downward twitch of his lips. The movement pulled at the cracking skin which stung as it tore open even more. Tomura felt the familiar crawling feeling on his neck and shifted in his seat to resist the urge to scratch. 

He couldn’t pinpoint why exactly you staring at him was so uncomfortable. He didn’t like you, he didn’t care about you and by extension didn’t give two shits what you thought of him, but anything he might have said shriveled on his tongue when you spoke or looked in his eyes too long. 

Tomura had never made a habit of talking to females and they certainly had never wanted anything to do with him either. 

Maybe he was fucking allergic or something. 

Whatever the case, you seemed to take his half frown as a sign of solidarity and leaned back in your own seat. 

“Okay, look,” you retorted. “If you’re seriously not gonna at least try to cooperate, then there is actually an option to do the project by yourself and I suggest you take it.” 

The look on your face was distinctly impolite. There was a sharpness to the set of your jaw that Tomura had never seen before, but it looked practiced enough that he could bet it was simply the snake that resided in every woman just waiting to come out. 

“Look sweetheart—” that masked jerk began, also for some fucking reason looking to Tomura for support. 

For someone who was very much used to blending into the background scenery, this was the most eye contact Tomura had ever made in a day. 

Except on the rare occasions his roommate had friends over and he had to make the dreaded trek from his room to reach the fridge. 

“Oh yeah I’m not doing that,” you closed your laptop sharply and rolled your eyes. “I get it, but I’m really just trying to graduate. I don’t think this is going to work out and you,” Tomura froze as you shifted your gaze to him once again, “seem okay, so Tomura and I can just work this out by ourselves and you can find a different group.” 

Kai scoffed behind the black layer of fabric covering his mouth and slung his backpack over his shoulder. “Whatever.” 

Tomura watched him saunter straight out the door as the room was filled with the shuffling of notebooks and zipping of backpacks. 

“God,” you huffed and turned back to him. 

His raw skin burned under the new wave of heat and accompanying moisture that slicked his skin when you scooted closer to him. That clean laundry and shampoo smell was suffocating from this proximity. 

Did you fucking bathe in the stuff? 

He was becoming increasingly aware of his less than pleasant aroma and the fact that you not scrunching your nose up in disgust just out of some stupid, ingrained need to appease him. 

“Well, that was...weird,” you chuckled in a way that was probably meant to break the tension. 

Unfortunately Tomura felt more like he was about to break out in hives if you came any closer so it really just ended up making the atmosphere ten times more awkward. At least for him. You, somehow, remained resolutely unaware. 

“Mhm,” he hummed in response and picked silently at the skin of his fingers. 

“Anyway, I have a meeting in a few but we can trade numbers and pick a time to meet up sometime tomorrow maybe?” you suggested, quickly saving the steadily degrading vibes of the conversation and pulled out your phone. 

He really hated the full body pulsation that rushed through him at the thought of getting a girls number. It made him fucking sick at himself for falling into your stupid trap to get him interested. Was your plan to just use him to get a good grade or whatever and then block his texts?

It wasn’t like Tomura didn’t know about his status as the class ‘freak.’ That one guy everyone whispers about and makes sure not to sit next to. And he knows you know, so why the hell else would you act so nice?

He wanted to say something scathing in return. That he could do the whole thing by himself too—which he definitely couldn’t but that was irrelevant—and that he didn’t need you bossing him around either. 

“Sure thing,” he said instead and took your offered phone all too eagerly, typing in his number and watching as you shot off a text back so he’d have yours. 

His phone buzzed against his thigh and he jumped a fourth time, but you seemed not to notice as you packed your bag and grabbed your basic ass drink. The ice clattered against the tumbler, dropping cool condensation against the searing skin of his hand. 

Tomura shivered as you waved over your shoulder and slipped out the door with another rush of students. 

He sat silently in the empty room for a moment, trying to process the last hour. He pinched himself idly, wondering if it had all been just a weird dream, but the results were inconclusive. A minute or two passed before he pulled out his phone to scroll through the list of reddit and discord notifs to find your text. 

Unknown Number:

— pEopLe DoN’t TaLK tO mE liKE ThAt 

— not very plus ultra of him...smh

— anyway, library at 6 tomorrow ?

 Tomura caved, digging his nails into the side of his neck and hissed at the pain, confirming the day's horrible reality. 

[muselin]

See You Later - Part 1

Who: Beomgyu

Group: TXT

What: Beomgyu/f!reader, collegeAU, slow burn, eventual smut, college student!Gyu, model!Gyu

Word count: 2,238

A/N: this is for @bluekais ❤ Hope you enjoy! Sorry that it's taken so long! There will be a Part 2 coming but I got myself elbows-deep into Kinktober so might take a while as well 🎃

____________________________________

"Tch."

The dissatisfied noise leaving your lips had become habit by now. Just his presence annoyed you, but the fact that he had the nerve to show up late to class almost every time, carrying that stupid skateboard, made your blood boil a little bit. He never studied, never did the assignments, always showed up late and he was still somehow passing this class. This class that you had worked so hard to get into and had to keep working so hard to stay in. It didn't come naturally to you but it did to him and it made you green with envy.

"Ah, Beomgyu-ssi, how kind of you to join us," your professor quipped sarcastically as Beomgyu beamed a smile that was frustratingly charming and headed for the only empty space in the auditorium which, to your displeasure, happened to be next to you.

You didn't acknowledge each other as you continued scribbling furiously into your notebook while Beomgyu sat with his chin leaned on his hand. You noticed that he hadn't taken out anything to write with.

"Now I will hand out your assignments for the next lecture. Remember we have study week, so you will have one week to complete these. Please remain in your seats as you are now."

Your professor proceeded to hand out stacks of papers and you couldn't help noticing that he was handing only one stack for every two students. He was making his way down your row and dropped off an assignment right between you and Beomgyu.

"I can hold it for us," Beomgyu smiled pleasantly as he looked over to you, seemingly unaffected by your sour expression. As the two of you read the instructions for the music production assignment, Beomgyu would stop and mutter to himself every once in a while: "Hmm, I already have a bass guitar for this," "This would be very easy to add a snare to," "I just need vocals and someone to match the drum line to this".

"Alright, everyone ready?" The auditorium hummed with mumbled "yes"es.

"Good," your professor continued, "you will be doing the assignment in pairs, in the order that I've handed the assignments out to you".

You groaned inwardly, noticing yours and Beomgyu's names at the bottom right corner of the cover page.

"Class dismissed!"

You were unsure what to do. You'd have to spend quite a lot of time with Beomgyu to finish this but you didn't have his number and you didn't even know which dorm he was in. Before you could open your mouth to ask Beomgyu when you should meet up, he was getting up and slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

"See you later, Y/N," his voice laced with his regional dialect reached you as an afterthought.

"Tch. Fuck you too, Choi," you muttered.

___________________

It had been four days since you last saw Beomgyu and you were getting nervous. You had started the assignment early and done as much as you could do. You hated to admit it but you really did need him for this. You had worked out a base melody but it was too bare and uninteresting and you knew from hearing him talk to himself that he knew a lot of elements which could add flare and points to the assignment. You hunched over your laptop, browsing the music library. Begrudgingly, at 10 p.m. on a Tuesday, you decided to email him through the university central email list.

### 22:01 ###  Hi Beomgyu, it's Y/N, your partner for the music production assignment. I've thrown some things together but we need to meet to do the rest. I realised I didn't have your number or your dorm address, let me know when we can meet up. ###

You waited for a while after pressing send, just in case he was on his emails right now. At midnight you gave up and went to sleep.

### 03:44 ### Hi! Sorry about that! Can you bring what you have over to mine at about noon tomorrow? Here's the postcode ###

You woke up to the reply from Beomgyu and nearly panicked that you would be late. He didn't live close by at all, the post code seemed to be for a swanky area of newly built apartments downtown, miles away from your suburban campus.

You showered and dressed as quickly as possible. You weren't dressing up for anyone. Jeans, sneakers and a flannel shirt was all Beomgyu was getting from you. You grabbed your laptop and equipment and headed out the door.

________________

At 11:55, you knocked on Beomgyu's door. He lived on the 13th floor and on the elevator up to his apartment you hoped to whoever would listen that this wouldn't turn out to be as unlucky as the out-of-order sign on the second elevator.

The front door clicked and opened to reveal a somewhat sleepy Beomgyu, dressed in a tshirt and pyjama bottoms.

"Oh, Y/N, you're early," he said, then looked at his watch. You found this ironic, considering he never showed up to class on time.

"Well, not by much. Can I come in?"

"Sure," he said, opening the front door widely for you to walk in past him. "I'll make coffee," he yawned.

As you walked past him you couldn't help but note in your head that he smelled really good. You weren't sure if it was his cologne or laundry but it was the kind that settled pleasantly in your chest and made you want to breathe in deeper. You stopped that train of thought harshly as soon as you felt your mind drift that way. You were perfectly happy with feeling generally mildly annoyed with Beomgyu. It was your comfort zone, even if having to work with him was pushing it.

"So how come you don't live on camp-- Wow..."

Your jaw dropped as you walked into the apartment. It was nothing like the cramped dorm rooms you and your friends shared on campus. It was bright, spacious and well-decorated, with huge windows and a view that rivaled the best hotels in the business district.

"How the fuck are you affording this," the words tumbled out of you with little grace before you could stop them.

"Well, since you ask, I work a lot of side jobs," Beomgyu said nonchalantly as he poured water into the kettle in the open-plan kitchen.

"Really? What do you do?"

"Uhm...," he scratched his neck sheepishly, "at the moment I model."

"You? You model?"

"Yeah, why," he tilted his head at you, looking at you quizzically.

Those big brown eyes, the soft curves of his lips, his chiseled jawline... And his hair looked really soft too. Suddenly from thinking nothing of him you were imagining him as a model. You wondered what he modeled for. Could it be fashion brands? Lifestyle? Prints? Maybe even swimsuits? He always wore those baggy jeans and t-shirts, but maybe...

"Y/N?"

"Oh," you snapped back to him, realising you hadn't answered him. "Yeah I just... didn't know, that's all."

"Uhm, cool. Why don't you drop your stuff off in the room down the hall, the one on the left?"

You nodded and picked up your laptop bag and equipment, your feet sinking into the plush carpet as you padded down the hall. You nudged open the door to the room he'd pointed you to, jaw dropping again for the second time today as you walked in.

The room was a small makeshift studio, with mics, a sound control board and several guitars. Several notepads were strewn about along with a few used coffee mugs and muffin wrappers. It seemed to be the most lived-in space of Beomgyu's house so far and you were suddenly starting to understand why he never seemed to pay much attention to the classes. You dropped your bags off in the corner and sat down at his computer, looking at the various pieces of equipment connected to it.

"How do you like your coffee?"

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard Beomgyu's pleasant voice reverberate in the room. You hadn't heard him come in after you. Covering up your startled reaction, you mumbled your preference and he returned shortly with two steaming mugs, setting them down on his desk.

"Um, so... For this assignment I've tried layering the melodies but it's very bare. I thought we could use it as a starting point and build on it," you said, trying to sound more businesslike.

"That's good, thanks. I actually don't have a lot of time so a head start would be good. I have an hour now but then I need to head out."

Your brow furrowed. An hour? It had taken you three days to put together what you had so far.

"Let's see what you've got," Beomgyu reached for the USB stick in your hands and plugged it into his computer. He downloaded the files and ran them.

An unobtrusive melody filled the small studio. He listened politely, head tilted to one side until it faded out.

"Um... Yeah, I don't play guitar so I wasn't sure what would sound good with that," you started, hands playing with the edges of your shirt nervously. You hated feeling incompetent, especially in front of Beomgyu.

"Yeah, no offence, but it does need a lot more than that," he said. "Let's see what I can do with that."

You sat in your chair and watched him plug one of his guitars into the amp behind you. He tuned it according to the scales in your melody and started to play along.

"Nana naaa," he hummed along quietly. "I don't know about that bar, what do you think," he asked you.

"It's not bad but I think it can go for longer," you replied. Beomgyu nodded, stopping the recording and starting again.

You watched him get lost in his own world as the notes coming from his guitar breathed life into your melody. You watched his fingers strum and pluck, watched his lips open and close in concentration, occasionally the lower one being worried by his teeth. You watched his long hair fall into his face. You simply watched Beomgyu in his zone, not noticing when he stopped playing.

"Y/N?"

Your eyes focused and met his deep brown ones, your lips tensing as you tried to seem attentive.

"Yeah? Yeah, that was good, let's add that in," you spoke quickly.

"Cool," Beomgyu then stood up and reached behind you to switch off the amp. You couldn't stop yourself from breathing in again when his chest and neck nearly brushed across your face. His warm hand dropped to your shoulder, giving you a casual pat.

"Why don't you sit at the computer and keep replaying the recoding while I write down the chords," he suggested.

"Okay, sure," you stood up in the cramped space and there was barely room for you two to switch places. Beomgyu's hands instinctively came up to your waist to steady you as he brushed past you. Your breath hitched but you said nothing as you sat down at his desk and started the recording.

Your combined melody filled the small room and you found yourself nodding along. You hated to admit it but you liked it much more with Beomgyu's additions. You played it several times while he wrote down the chords.

"Right, awesome," he drawled in his dialect after he was finished. "I have to get dressed and head out now, but if you want we can meet up again later today. I won't be done until quite late but I sleep late anyway."

"How late are we talking," you asked suspiciously.

"I would be done about 11, we could meet back here," Beomgyu offered.

You hesitated for a second. It was a lot later than what you considered acceptable but at the same time you didn't trust Beomgyu. You weren't sure you would get any more time out of him than this.

"Okay, deal. Message me when you're done and I'll head over."

"Cool, here's my number," Beomgyu grabbed your phone to type his own number in and called himself. "You okay to let yourself out?"

He left the studio and went into the room across, which you guessed was probably his bedroom. You copied the new files onto your USB before you packed up your things and left the studio as well. On the way you saw that Beomgyu's bedroom door was ajar. You saw him standing with his back to the door as he was pulling his t-shirt over his head. Your lips tensed into a line as you tried to not to make any noise and not even to breathe.

"Yeah, I'm good."

"See you later, Y/N."

You stood frozen in place as your eyes traced the lines of his back muscles to his pretty shoulders, not missing his toned arms flexing as he reached up to push the t-shirt over his head. Your gaze trailed back down his body to his hips where his bottoms were slung low, exposing the two cute dimples at his lower back. He didn't look like he was wearing anything underneath.

Beomgyu dropped his shirt to the floor and you suddenly darted down the corridor, panicked that he would turn around and see you. His bottoms dropped down just as he heard his front door open and shut.

[runeterrankhaleesi]

Fuck it Imma ask for a LMMU for League of Legends.

I'm a gay trans man in my early 20s. I do freelance art, Am starting a Youtube Channel with some friends, and I have a job as a librarian at the town's centre where I live. Im 5'5, pretty chubby, and I use a walking cane because one of my legs is slightly too short.

I like Jazz/classical/lofi music, I've started a collection of teas, and I like to sew, knit, and paint when Im not doing commissioned work. I dont really care if someone shares my interests or not, as long as they're ok with me enjoying them and they arent afraid to talk about what's important to them.

My love language (giving) is acts of service, quality time, and gift giving. My love language (recieving) is quality time or physical touch.

What I look for in a partner is someone reliable, willing to listen and accomodate my weirdness and my disability, and someone who I can trust completely. I have abandonment issues and am very touch-starved, so someone bouncing once they hear I might want kids one day is something I dont want.

Thank you sorry for being so late.

[A/N: Just as you asked, darling, I consulted my matchmaker for this one. ;)]

I pair you with...

VIKTOR!

Why? Because...

I'm sure you're already aware that science and technology is Viktor's bread and butter so when you tell him that you're starting your own Youtube channel with your friends, he runs to get his hands on the nearest computer to help you. He comes and helps you set up the channel (if you haven't already) and tweaks the coding of the website itself to make it a bit more personalized for you and your friends.

As you can tell, Viktor fully supports your hobbies and interests, he wants nothing but the best for you. There once was a time where he offered to create a website where you can advertise your art and receive commissions and to this day, he stills bugs you about it, begging you to just let him do it.

He has a warehouse where he stores all his inventions and spare parts. Ever since you've said you've started collecting teas, Viktor has taken the liberty to set aside a space for you in said warehouse. He knows that it's a bit much but it's his way of showing his dedication for you. You're free to whatever you want with the free space, you can turn into a workspace, you can store your teas, your art supplies or even your finished pieces (though Viktor would rather have those framed and hanged around his workplace).

If you do decide to turn it into a workplace, Viktor would mark the space under construction as he works to build a surround sound system in the place so you can play music whenever you like.

He loves having you close whenever he works. You don't actually have to be close, he just wants to feel your presence in the room, it provides him that sense of comfort he can't quite explain. It's like he never wants to be away from you-wanting to share and spend every minute of his life with you.

Viktor loves to infodump and share his ideas (he would make sure you're free, comfortable, and open to listen first before proceeding). He'd like to hear your opinions, feedback, and critiques, he likes to take note of it to improve. He'd also like to hear your ideas as well, even helping you bring it to life.

Due to his...enhancements, he's almost all metal. It makes it hard for him to display affection, especially physical but that doesn't mean he won't try. The temperature of his metal body is near unpredictable so he settles to show his love for you verbally by words of affirmation or simple things such as calling you by nicknames.

You don't have to worry about Viktor, he's loyal and dedicated, the thought of ever leaving you has never crossed his mind. He's more than reliable, he makes sure to remind you that he's there for you always and that you can lean on him when things are tough. And sure, he can't physically give you kids but that doesn't mean you can't adopt, especially since he has thought of having a family once or twice ever since he met you.

💝~Happy Valentines Day!~💝

[You were matched together by @mellonzinho]

[yoichichi]

Intern!Eren HC

warning(s): none

a/n: some Intern!Eren HC based off my CEO!Levi x secretary!reader post you can read here <- if you’d like :) I got one person requesting it in my inbox and that’s all I needed LOL :) I’d love to hear from you guys in my inbox! Hope you enjoy <3 I’m also gonna be posting more characters from this ~universe so feel free to send in thoughts or ideas !

FIRST OFF HES SO STUPID LIKE PLS

I’m sorry but hear me out:

He’s very intelligent, right. He was well composed in his interview to be an intern, his resume was wonderfully organized full of all kinds of references and experience, he can hold a corporate conversation like nobody’s business, and he’s definitely got this natural charm working for him

But this man can’t work a photo copier for the life of him 😭

He doesn’t know the difference between business casual & smart casual (tbh who tf does)

He is always joking with boss Levi at the WORST times

He’s AWFUL at finding things pls

Someone will tell him to go grab more printer paper from the cabinets in the break room and he’ll just go and stand in there like 🧍

“Cabinets, cabinets... okayyy what one.”

^he definitely talks to himself like that ALL the time but more on that later

But anyways he’ll be searching through all the cabinets and just,,, not see it and he’d start freaking out like oh fuck they’re gonna fire me cause my dumbass can’t find the fuckin printer paper

He’d just come back like

“Um, uh, Miss Parker I couldn’t find the printer paper🧍.”

She’s an older lady in the advertising department of the company that just finds him so endearing pls

so she goes and just opens the first cupboard he looked in and hands it to him like “here sweetie, make sure to open your eyes next time.”

She’s so sweet but poor baby is so red and embarrassed 😭

It’s even worse when she asks him to load it and he just - breaks it

he accidentally pulled too hard trying to open the paper compartment and ripped one of the plastic front pieces off and is just holding it in his hand like 😰

He jus tapes it on w scotch tape and bolts out of the room once it’s loaded and then blames it on Jean when Levi asks why the hell the printer in the front office is broken

“Yeah no I have no idea sir, I think it might’ve been Jean, I mean I saw him in here last buttt, yeah no I really don’t know sorry!”

Queue Eren speed walking to the bathroom so he can collect himself abdjdjajdjf

But on the note of breaking things it’s totally happened more than once

I STRONGLY HC this mf as being clumsy a lil like he just never fully got used to his height after he had his growth spurt

So he has a habit of tripping over himself or hitting his head on cabinets and such

This also means long arms accidentally knocking these over 😭

His first day he reached across his lil intern desk adjacent to Jeans to answer the phone and just completely knocked off his stapler and it kinda came apart

So once he was done with the call he was like no biggie I can fix this :)

And then he spent the next 20 minutes trying to figure out how the hell to put it back together

Levi happened upon him at his desk with google up on his computer, “how to put together stapler”, and he was fiddling with it in his lap and Levi was just 🤨

Eren was so embarrassed and went beet red

But as soon as Jean started chuckling Levi was like “well help him? I’d rather not have a broken stapler and besides, it’d give you two idiots something to do.”

So of course jean was like ok 🙄 but now him and eren have been arguing and BOTH been trying to fix it for another 10 minutes

Levi comes over to check on them and he’s so disappointed he’s just like “give me the fucking stapler” and puts the pieces back together and hands it to eren like 😐.

But yeah, Eren has a tendency to break things LOL

Ok back to mans talking to himself

He can be forgetful when it comes to tasks he needs to do so you’ll often find him walking around the office muttering things to himself like “phone, phone. Listen to the voicemail on the phone.”

And sometimes he’ll sing it to himself instead of speaking it cause it he finds it keeps him entertained 🥺🤲🏼

He also has a bad habit of just humming at his desk period

Jean absolutely hates it, especially when the songs Eren’s humming get stuck in Jeans head LMAO

Levi implied he was proud of Erens work ~once and he almost cried, he had to excuse himself and Miss Parker thought he was gonna throw up

One time Levi joked about long hair not being dress code and immediately had to take it back before Eren and Jean had a crisis at their desk

But even with his little quirks and shenanigans he takes his internship very seriously and is highly knowledgeable about the core responsibilities of the job, which is definitely a reason Levi accepted his application in the first place

Eren is so punctual it’s insane, he hasn’t missed a single day at his internship and has never been more than a minute late

And he’s so cute always asking Levi what he could do better at the end of his day or if there’s anything else he needs from him

At some point Levi had to ask him to only ask it once a week cause he has other things to worry about too 😭

But Levi did admire his determination to improve

Eren may be a little silly but he’ll be damned if he’s gonna lose this internship <3

————————

Eeeeek okok so this is officially a part of my CEO!levi universe LMAO any work that is based in this will be tagged appropriately! I’m also thinking of posting a pt.2 to this with reader 😏! Lemme know if you guys are interested! I’ll be having some more works come out with other aot boys in this universe too :)! Anyways yes I’d love any and all thoughts <3

requests are open

-🐇out

taglist: @plutowrites @armins-futon @peachysimp (if you’d like to be added to aot, hq, mha, or a mixture of those jus lemme know!)

[stardust-kenobi]

Let Me Help You

Obi Wan x Reader

Summary: Obi Wan isn’t very tech-savy, and he wants you to help him with his computer while you two sit in the Jedi Temple library. You offer your assistance, and decide to help him in other ways, too.

Warnings: smut, dub-con!!, male oral receiving, public oral sex

Word count: 2k

A/N: ⚠️please DO NOT read if you’re uncomfortable with dub-con. It’s not for everyone. (In this specific plot it’s used because Obi Wan is trying to be a good Jedi) Consent is slightly more clear right before the act.

This was requested by anon! Thanks lovely, hope you enjoy 💕

(my gif)

Obi Wan’s face became more frustrated by the second. You sat across from him in the Temple library. You’d joined your friend today because he wanted the company while he completed some tasks undoubtedly related to his Jedi duties. 

“You alright?” You inquired, attempting to withhold a giggle at the sight of a man who is so usually calm becoming annoyed at technology.

“This datapad is going to drive me mad” he huffed. His fingers furiously tapped away at his attempted tasks.

“Sounds like a user-error” you teased him while continuing to stare at him. He looked up at you, obviously trying not to smile back. “And it’s a desktop computer, so, not technically a data pad” you jokingly corrected him.

“Well, whatever it is, it doesn’t like me very much” he remarked and returned his attention to the illuminated screen.

“What exactly are you trying to do?”

“I’m trying to navigate the archives here but it keeps telling me I’m typing in invalid coordinates” his voice grew more annoyed.

“Would you like my help?” You offered kindly

“No, that’s not necessary.” He politely declined.

You waited, not responding, knowing he’d change his mind after another failed attempt. His eyes shot upward at you across the table and quickly looked back down, but then hesitantly returned to your gaze.

“Maybe I could use your help, y/n” he finally admitted.

“Mhm, that’s what I thought” you rose from your seat and headed around the table. You observed the room, and no one was around. You hadn’t seen anyone in the library since you walked in. You could probably hear a pin drop in the vast silence. You came around behind his chair and leaned down next to him. Obi Wan’s eyes could not have been less discreet as they peered over to your chest that was now at his eye level. Your shirt was low cut, and perhaps a little too tight, but nothing you wouldn’t normally wear. You noticed but said nothing to Obi Wan, just flattered that he wanted to look.

“Let me try and enter the coordinates. What were they?” You inquired. He gave you the same numbers he had been typing in. You unfortunately found yourself having the same issue he was having. Obi Wan laughed, mocking you for thinking it was his fault.

“User-error, was it?” He teased you. You shook your head and giggled.

“Let me try something else” you said. You attempted other methods in order to make it work. 

“Why don’t you pull up a chair?” He suggested.

You looked around, there were no chairs close, except for your chair on the other side of the table.

“Oh no, that’s alright” you shrugged, but then an idea crept into your devious, sexually deprived head. You checked your surroundings again, no one was in the library. It was late, anyways, so it wasn’t unusual.

Obi Wan’s lap sat there, open and empty, legs spread open, as if it was waiting on you to fill the space. You slowly moved your hips downward and over onto his thighs. He didn’t say a word, protest, or even make a sound, until you were fully seated on his unprepared lap.

“Oh, um...alright then” he stuttered, unsure what to say, but didn’t reject you either.

“Sorry, I saw a perfectly good seat and took it. That okay?” You clearly played innocent.

He roughly cleared his throat and breathed out hard. His built up sexual tension was obvious, and you preyed on it guiltlessly.

“No problem at all” he chuckled, finally responding to you. Continuing to work at the computer in your new found seat, you rotated your hips side to side subtly, pressing more firm into him. Hardly any time had passed before you felt him grow aroused under your ass. You smirked, loving the effect you were having on him.

“Oh, there we go, it worked!” you announced suddenly. The screen displayed the archive location that he searched for, after tweaking with the settings for a bit.

“What worked?” He breathed out, clearly more flustered than the last time he spoke. It was as if he was snapped out of a trance. He was incredibly distracted and couldn’t even recall for the moment what you were even helping him with.

“The...computer?” You stated the obvious, turning around sharply to meet his eyes.

“Right!” He shyly remembered.

His erection was continuing to grow and he wondered if you could feel it against you.

“Something wrong, Obi Wan?” You asked him, Both of you were fully aware of what was happening, but the lack of direct communication refused to acknowledge it plainly.

“Oh, I’m fine” He replied, clearing his throat again.

“You sure? You seemed flustered” You pushed the conversation further.

“Y-yes I'm, uh, I’m sure” he stumbled over his words.

“Seems like you’re having a hard time with your words there, Master Kenobi” you purred, wasting no time dancing around the idea. “Well, something is hard” you smirked, getting close to his face while sitting sideways across his thighs.

His breath hitched in his throat when he heard your voice turn sensual. Obi Wan said nothing because he wasn’t sure what to say. He wanted you, that you could tell, but a man that lived so strictly by the Jedi code would be hard to crack. And in public? He’d be insane to let you seduce him.

“Y/n...” he groaned deeply. His body language communicating how hard it was to restrain himself.

“Yes?” You whispered while moving your lips to his bare neck. You placed your lips at his supple skin and pecked slowly and lightly.

“As lovely as this is, I can’t” he protested. “It’s forbidden for me to engage in this, y/n, you know that”

Regardless, your lips continued working at his neck. A hum, almost resembling a moan, crawled from his mouth.

“You’re telling me, that if I got on my knees, right now, right here in front of you, that you wouldn’t want me to suck your cock?” You purred so softly directly into his ear. You observed the chills that cascading down his body and you smiled against his skin.

“Stars, y/n, I’ve never heard you talk like this” He avoided the question, his breathing still tense. You felt his hips buck slightly up into your weight.

“I know how stressed you are, Obi Wan, let me help you” you offered. He looked into your eyes for a moment. Desperation was hidden deep in his gaze. He wanted a release, but had to make a decision of his morality and his loyalty to the Jedi Order.

“You want to do that to me...here?” He inquired the absurdity of your offered actions and especially there in public. His tone was so innocent and clueless to your attraction to him.

“Oh, Master Kenobi, it’d be my pleasure” you called him by his formal name yet again, even though you’d only ever called him Obi Wan. You assumed it might turn him on. You were right.

You softly press your lips onto his. He received your lips hesitantly, but then eagerly. You moved to straddle him, placing both legs on either side of his hips. You pushed your hips forward, curling them into his bulge. Becoming more comfortable with your touch, Obi Wan’s lips danced with yours passionately.

Butterflies fluttered in your belly as you finally acted on your eager built up desires for him.

“But, y/n, the Council -” he began again, breaking the kiss, and still worried for his long list of ethical restrictions on his life.

“I don’t see them here...do you? And we both know Anakin doesn’t follow the rules, does he?” You persisted.

“Well, no. I suppose you’re right” he whispered back, laughing quietly at your comment. He was nervous, but it was impossible for him to hide his new hunger for your lips around his cock.

“Allow yourself some fun, Master”

“Y/n, I want to, but I’ve never done anything like this before” He admitted casually.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you” you sweetly assured him.

“Okay, darling, but I do believe we must make this quick” he finally fully accepted the idea, but looked quickly around the very large room to confirm you were alone together.

“Oh it won’t take me long at all” you winked at him.

Removing yourself from his lap, his eyes never left you as he was unsure of your next step. You got on your knees in front of him, as you promised. His hands eagerly fumbled to pull his trousers down. You met his hands halfway and took over.

His cock begged to be let free from its restraints. Once the cloth passed his full length, it sprung out and met your eye level. He was so adorably nervous. You released a moan at the sight of him exposed to you.

You wrapped your hand around him and the contact made him twitch. He breathed out heavily as he’d never been touched like this by another person. Your eyes met his lustful gaze. You raised your eyebrows, non verbally asking If he was ready. He nodded his head, and you proceeded.

Your lips parted widely to bring him into your mouth. Your eyes locked as you lowered your mouth completely down his length, taking all of him into you. A feeling so unfamiliar to him caused Obi Wan to grip the arm rest of the chair. He breathed in sharply, and exhaled the sweetest moan. Using the moisture from your mouth, you glided yourself up and down slowly.

“Oh my stars, y/n” he whispered. You two knew you still needed to be quiet, in case someone was close.

Obi Wan was so sensitive and touch starved beyond belief. No matter how hard he tried to muffle himself, he was unsuccessful. Your ears were graced with the delicate sounds escaping his lips as you brought him more pleasure than he’d ever experienced before.

“Fuck” he cried, already so close to his climax from your skilled motions. Vulgarity flying from him was a new sound to you and it earned a warm sensation inside of you.

An aching formed between your legs, a feeling of pleasure that was all too familiar to you. You wanted him to take you right then and there, but you’d surely get caught. Another time, you thought.

Removing your mouth to rest your jaw, you pumped your hands around him. You looked up at him, his eyes had still not broken contact with you while you created a euphoric form of pleasure for him for the first time.

“Y/n...” he whimpered

“Yes, Master Kenobi?” You cooed and smiled at him. He formed a grin down at you that quickly turned back into his O-face as you pumped him faster.

“I’m...oh my” he started, his body couldn’t stay still.

“Are you gonna cum for me?”

“Oh, yes, y/n. I’m so close. I’m gonna cum” he whined.

You returned the moisture of your mouth back to his cock and sloppily, yet rhythmically, sucked him continuously, responding to the way his body moved and the sound of his moans. The veins in his length twitched and his hips shifted.

Obi Wan threw his head back in ecstasy and just then you felt your throat become coated in his hot cum. The suppression of the growls that formed from his climax was intense and deep, somehow loud and quiet simultaneously.

You swallowed him up and removed your mouth from his sensitive parts. Obi Wan’s head was still laid back, you watched as his chest rose and fell with the effort to catch his breath.

“Was that alright?” You asked, giggling, knowing the answer already.

“Well, I...darling that was...incredible” he finally expressed in between his deep breaths.

You helped him pull his trousers back up and plant a kiss on his cheek as you stood.

“Glad I could be of some assistance for you tonight” you winked.

He was blushing, still in disbelief that you two just engaged in such an act. He was so precious and shy about the whole thing, but enjoyed every single second of it.

“Perhaps maybe I can help you next time, hm?” He suggested. You bite your lip, already growing eager for the next time you’d be alone with him.

Kinda wanna make a part 2??

[oh-for-fic-sake]

Dress Codes,Nooky And  Cock Blocks

Masterlist

Henry tries to be a white knight and realizes Kal is to smart for his own good.

Request/Prompt: Henry and Kal meets you from work after having a bad day. Playing with Kal to make Henry jealous. Shutting kal out for some nooky but Kal sits outside the door barking and howling.

Warnings: Smutty Almost Smut! Fluff, Swearing

A/N: so this has combined two ideas one of which is from the lovely @being-worthy This was going to be a Pooh bear chapter two but hasn't quite fit the bill. Anyway I hope you all enjoy.  P.S I 100% belive Kal would be a little shit!!!

Taglist: @two-unbeatable-beaters​ @thatgirly81​ @angelofthorr @iloveyouyen​ @sofiebstar​ @thefangirlsblog​ @harrysthiccthighss​ @loserrlauraa​ @tumblrnewby​ @isitmine​ @tinabean37​

This was a fucking piss take your manager was an asshole! You huffed about the office still trying to process the stupidity he just fucking spouted at you. You moved to the ladies room phone in hand ready to vent locking yourself in a stall fingers poised to rant in a long ass text message but you froze. Henry was home well at the gym to be more specific. He was over the moon having just snagged the role of Geralt of Rivia and had been working tirelessly on bulking up for the role especially now that he was getting the dates for shooting. You paused taking a deep breath. No. You cant vent to him and ruined his day to. You growled and moved leaving the bathroom slamming the door thankful that you only had another hour, at least the prick had the decency to wait until the end of the day.

You through your phone down into the bag sitting at your desk for a few moments. You cast your eyes over the computer screen seeing the little bimbo...His little bimbo Stacey there was an office romance between your asshat of a manager and this little blonde. She ran about the office in small tight skirts hair immaculate and thick makeup smeared across her face and fuck me glasses that were an accessory not prescription like yours. She had a snug fitted blouse and pencil skirt on flitting about the office in some dangerous looking heels. More feminine? Was you supposed to jump up and say 'yes sir of course Sir, anything to keep this job sir' then flutter your lashes at him?.

Fuck that, and fuck this be more feminine bullshit, there was no written dress code and as far as things had gone you were doing your job pretty damn well and you didn't need heels to do it!

You scowled seeing the blonde slip out followed by your manager it mus be time fore their discrete get away a make out in the copier room...How original. You sighed clicking your mouse scanning through the next lot of appointments...No more today but there was a shit tonne tomorrow. You sighed getting down...Was your job really on the line over skirts,  makeup and heels? Sure you were on probation but they couldn't sack you for breaking a non existent dress code...Could they.honestly you wouldn't put it past Dave he seemed to have some fucked up traditional views.

Your attention was quickly drawn down to your phone buzzing you smiled seeing it was Henry quickly tapping the notification.

'Bbe you still at the office?? Miss you! 😘😘' You smiled softly heaving a deep breath then began typing.

'Yep still here not for long though finish in 1hr thank god 😘😘 u 2 at the gym still??' You sent the text and got a reply pretty quick you smiled he must have left the gym to reply so quick. Your thoughts wandered a daydream of the huge glorious man puffed out and sweaty ugh yes that's what you needed right now your man to just ruin you fuck the stress and doubt right out of you!. Your eyes scanned the new text he had sent pulljng you out of your raunchy thoughts.

'No just left walking Kal around the park he got a bit excited need to wear him out, so have a good day?'

'😂 good luck with that. And its been okay...G2g shopping after apparently I need to dress more feminine😒😒 so will be home late' You frowned hearing the two love birds enter the office again wrapped up around one another professionally you rolled your eyes as the blonde pulled away from your manager giggling and made her way to the computer opposite you instantly reaching for her compact mirror trying to correct the smeared lipstick across her face. Your phone pinged and you looked down face lighting up a little seeing the anger emojis. Henry felt the same ass you.

'😡😡🤬WTF? wats tht sppsd 2 mean?' you cringed maybe you should have just kept your mouth shut but it was too late now you sighed trying to placate him.

'I need to wear skirts and shit...be an office bimbo no big deal🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️ just get a few skirts thts all' you typed back his reply was immediate almost as if he'd been typing the same time as you. Wincing you prepared yourself for the worse, Henry was a very protective man and you knew he hated the whole gender roles thing.

'😡😡You dnt need makeup and shit!! ur gorgeous dnt u listen to that wanker!! Can't u leave early?? Say ur going shopping?? Just get out of there! please love dnt let this get 2 u!!🥺🥺 I love u, ur perfect!!😍😘😘😍' You grinned got flushing rereading the words a warmth in your chest. You knew that he meant every word. Stacey looked over with a smirk snapping the compact shut and pointed a false nail in your direction.

"Oh? Is that a blush? Who are you texting? Someone cute?" You flicked your eyes up to her you didn't have anything against her per say but you were different people, she was all Instagram, kardashians and trending and you were all gaming, books and cosy pajamas. You never really spoke to her if you could help it.

"Err yeah...My boyfriend" you admitted looking down seeing another text from him. Another round of compliments and reassuring words lit up your screen.

'I mean it bbe I know u! dnt beat urself up over it! Dont u let him get 2 u!😘😘' you smiled softly yes he did know you and he knew this had not only made you angry but also insecure. You thought you looked good at work you always made a point to look 'put together' but it wasn't enough?

"Ooo was that him again? You never told me you had a boyfriend! Is he new? How long have you been together? What does he do? Whats he saying!?" You gulped as she got up quickly scuttling around the desk as fast as she could in her heels and skirt.

"We've been together a few years...He's just asking me to leave early and catch diner with him but I don't think Dave would like that..." Stacey's face lit up and she beamed at you. She was happy to have something else to gossip about.

"Oh! that’s so sweet~ he wants to steal you away for dinner! You know I wish Dave would do that but he only really pays attention to me at work....So does this sweet mystery man have a name?" You looked up at her tilting your phone away a little so she didn't see Henry's on going threats of 'coming down there and teaching Dave some manners by ripping his tongue out his ass' you shook your head as you caught the ass end of a long text full of emojis...You sort of regret teaching him the meanings of them....Was that an eggplant in the middle?.

"Henry...His name is Henry and he's an actor" Stacey squealed cupping her face completely excited for some reason.

"Oh that's so cute! You know its always you shy ones that nab yourselves the boho guys...You know I always wanted to date the 'boho' type myself but never did, they were all to....Just not my type I like clean cut guys, you know ones who fill out a suit" You squinted what the fuck was she getting at? You schooled your features standing taller quickly and made your own little dig.

"Like Dave?" she flushed and nodded excitedly missing the whole sarcastic droll over your words. She clapped her hands completely missing the fact you were poking fun at the scrawny 'stud' sleazeball who Henry could easily snap over his thigh if he wanted to.

"Yes just like my Dave~! Ugh anyway do you have a pic...Come ooon! Let me see your man~" you sighed tilting your head to her...She was pretty harmless...And dippy so it shouldn't do any harm she didn't strike you as the type of person to watch Henry's movies so shouldn't recognize him. You nodded sweetly it was actually a little fun you rarely got to show off your man,  most people who knew him knew you were dating. You twisted the phone eying the screen and froze seeing the last texts he sent you whilst you spoke to Stacey.

'Have you got out early??🧐🧐'

'Babe don't ignore me!😤😤 Is he still there!?😡'

'Woman you better answer me! Stop ignoring me bbe it wont help😤😤'

'Im serious y/n do I need to chat with him? Do you want me to help?🧐🧐'

'Look out the window'

"Oh hell no!" you huffed out under your breath then stood up scrabbling to the large office window Stacey followed you alarmed. You freaked and quickly opened the window poking your head out to scream at your sweet but very dappy boyfriend. As irritated as the texts were he didn't look it, well until you really looked he was tense and it wasn't just because Kal was puling excitedly.

"Oh my god?! HENRY?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!....GET OUT OF THE GOD DAMNED ROAD!!" lone behold when you looked down you saw Henry standing there with a huge bouquet of Roses and a bag you suspected held a box of chocolates, Kal was barking up at you spinning in circles and jumping up super excited almost dragging the huge man over in all the excitement. It would seem the walk was not enough to wear out the bear. Henry grinned up at you you heard Stacey from beside you gasp.

"Holy shit is that your boyfriend??" you turned to her and smiled smugly to her nodding then glanced back down to him seeing him quickly navigate the people bustling around the car park heading for the doors. You froze. You can't let him up here he sounded angry earlier...He'd kill Dave. You ran back to your desk quickly logging off the pc and snatching up your bag.

"Where do you think your going y/n?" Dave called after you you stopped seeing him there arms crossed giving you the filthiest look he could muster seeing your bag slung over your arm then there was the distinct buzzing of someone Henry at the door trying to be buzzed in. You pointed to the door opening our mouth to fake sickness or something but was interrupted.

"Oh Dave leave her alone...All the times she's here early let her go early for once, we don't need her anymore today and it means we get the office to ourselves for an hour~" your eyes bugged out as Stacey came to your aid fluttering her lashes to your manager. He heaved a sigh and nodded to the door in a 'get out of here' motion.

You smiled quickly darting out down the stairs to the ground floor seeing Henry standing there unimpressed finger holding the button down in one long irritating ring. You shook your head at him through the glass as he held the button.

You slapped the exit button opening the door and Henry tried darting past you into the building chest puffed shoulders ready to give your boss a piece of his mind but you caught the frightening man by his ridiculous bulging bicep. You spun with him digging your heels into the worn carpet.

"No no no! Henry no!" he carried on to the stairs dragging you with him passing you the roses and Kal's lead as the dog bounced around you both yipping like the over excited pup he was. Henry had hoped filling your hands would give him time to jump up a few steps out of your reach so he could have a chat with Dave about this whole misogynistic bullshit. Henry swore when you scampered behind him hooking your arms around his forearm and leant back, if he moved you'd drop like a rock and up the few steps as you both were, you'd hurt yourself. He stopped heaving a deep sigh looking to you.

"Just five minuet's babe is all I need! fucking feminine my ass he just wants to oogle your peach of an ass!! And that's not- that ass is mine!! fucking no one NO ONE fucking upsets my baby!" Your body flushed skin prickling at the shear alpha tone the possessive growl that seeped into his words made you tremble swallowing dryly you managed to shake it off and focused on the task at hand fucking could come later for now you needed to stop him from ripping your manager a new one. You moved crouching down bearing your weight down giggling at him as he still tried to thunder up the stairs. Kal helped to pulling at his lead it was a joint effort.

"Henn love?! I'll be sacked if you go up there and make Dave piss himself! Please lets just go home it's Friday I can find a few things over the week end for now can we please leave" he stopped and looked up to the brown ceiling and flickering light sigh he clicked his tongue then looked to you slowly with a heavy breath.

"....Fine, but next time I'm having him!" you smiled finding his protective side arousing your tummy clenching just knowing you big strong man could rinse the little twat upstairs made your pussy clench you always had a thing about strong men and Henry was the most physically fit you'd ever met. You somehow managed to coax him out of the door in the direction of home taking a detour picking up a Chinese on the way.

You giggled rolling around the floor with Kal. after a quiet dinner and snuggle with Henry you had been ushered away so he could do his nightly reading of his new script.You didn't mind at all you loved seeing him so invested in his roles. you caught a glimpse of the red roses sitting proudly in a glass vase on the fireplace almost blocking the view of the tv but not quite. You loved this, just being home with your favorite boys enjoy a nice quiet night in. you scoffed mocking kal who was pulling hard on the black rope trying to out witt you with quick flicks of his head, playing tug with Kal was a workout huge as he was he had the weight and strength to out match even Henry. You did not stand a chance just holding onto the black rope hoping to slow him down but he was full of energy today.

Henry was sitting on the sofa feet up reading his witcher script pen in hand as he read his page, one a night was the deal. But honestly trying to pull him away from this particular script was a hell of a job fair enough he was trying to memorize lines and scribble down alternatives in the margins. It was sweet how excited he got, he already knew the character in and out so could already tweak things around so it felt like Geralt. He was happy had been chasing the role for a while so you didn't mind that preparing for it was taking up most of his time. but you were still horny from earlier and wouldn't complain to a night of nooky. But alas Henry was drawn in by the script and you were trying to find other ways to distract yourself from the bubbling arousal in your loins, like playing with Kal. But that’s not to say you wasn't going to tease your man, there were ways to get his attention~

You smirked putting a plan into action bending lower wriggling your ass, craning back so your shorts rode up just that little bit more. Then once in place you squealed loud gaining the mans attention as Kal tugged dragging you across the floor growling playfully bouncing his weight back jerking you around, it was only then that Henry grunted in annoyance, your voice had been high he loved you keeping Kal entertained he really did, but sometimes he needed a little quiet. Especially when he was trying to concentrate.

"You know if I keep this up I'll have bigger muscles then you~" you giggled out a you tried to hold your own against the mighty bear. Henry smiled and watched shaking his head as Kal dragged you under his legs to the free space on the side of the coffee table. As much as he was trying to concentrate you could never get on his nerves for long, he just loved you to damn much. Henry frowned as you were pulled again wincing anticipating an accident as Kal was definitely getting to invested in the game.

"Or a dislocated shoulder" he commented as Kal did another particularly painful looking shunt and shook his head side to side still growling loud around the toy. It was then that he looked at you properly and what he saw made the man pause and suck in a breath air getting trapped in his throat at the innocently erotic sight. Seeing you bent over any time was a pleasure but here and now? Bouncing deliciously on your knees being half dragged about the living room added another dimension to the whole thing. Your arms and back stretched out low on the floor spine arched slightly, sitting with your knees tucked under you, the bouncing making your ass jump deliciously.

Two full ass cheeks peeking out of you short shorts as Kal carried on his jerky movements. You bit your lip grunting and tugged back pulling with all your might successfully gaining a few inches which Kal stole back and more making you yelp and moan as you were sprawled out on the carpet again. This time dragged up on your knees into a position he he spent many nights enjoying to his fullest. were you doing this on purpose? he wouldn't put it past you...Maybe you needed a fuck, a proper fuck.

Henry couldn't help the twitching in his groin, the first tremors as he got a front row seat to the two perfect globes of your ass seemingly clapping against one another with the shorts acting like a thong shucked up your ass. Fuck you wasn't wearing Knickers again. Little fucking minx. He lowered his feet to the floor now far to invested in watching you roll around in the tiny shorts. swept up in the way your body swayed taunting him. you turned to him with a sly smile and sent him a quick wink that he almost missed.

He gaped at you, you were doing it on purpose!! His script laid completely forgotten on his lap as he watched you turn back to Kal innocently dipping down low again shoulders to the floor stretched out taught in front of you face tucked into your arm as Kal fought you for the coveted rope. God...It had been a while since he fucked you like that. He licked his lips. Too long in the busy days since snagging the witcher role he had only had time for a two quickies. Two fumbled quickies in three weeks and they wasn't even that good. Well not his usual hour long foreplay teasing and touching then good few rounds. They were just a flurry of fast rutting motion's, less fucking more jerking trying to finish as quickly as you could just wanting that high. he bit his lip watching you watch him out of the corner of your eye definitely teasing him.

"Babe come here~" You froze and twisted your head back you knew that tone.Grinning knowing you'd got your way you looked seeing Henry eyeing you hungrily biting his lip tilting his head, legs spread wide making his thighs bulge in what should be a loose set of black shorts but actually became skin tight on this Goliath of a man. You flushed under the gaze but managed to hold into the rope not giving the still pulling pup an inch. His eyes were a dark ocean blue pupils nearly swallowing the color completely, you wondered how far you could push him. you pouted at him before teasing him further opening your legs wider letting the material of your shorts almost completely disappear.

"Henry...I'm playing with Kal-" he squinted at you then quirked a brow before shaking his head snapping shut the folder holding the script and let it drop to the floor by his foot with a decisive thump. You gulped. But didn't move instead you heaved back pulling the Akita across the floor.

"Babe...Come here Kal's had his playtime..." you rolled your eyes hearing the silent 'now I want mine' sometimes he was a man child. You twisted your head to him with a flutter of your lashes and cheeky grin.

"Well I'm playing with Kal you have to wait your turn-HEY? HENRY THAT’S CHEATING!?" You yelped as Henry quickly bolted up right and stomped on the rope whilst using his considerable size and strength to pull you up off the floor making you release the toy.

"Well that’s enough playing with Kal, time to play with me. I wont be cock blocked in my own house by the dog~" you giggled as Henry quickly began climbing the stairs laughing kicking your feet, watching as Kal stayed two steps behind rope in his mouth excitedly following his parents, you were all going to play!. It was only when the dog found himself shut out of the bedroom did he realize you were in fact not going to be playing with him anymore tonight. you could hear the indignant huff through the door.

You wriggled as Henry fell onto the bed with you wrapped around him slowly devouring each other with deep kisses tongues and teeth roaming each other. It had been a good few weeks since you both explored one another properly. Henry pulled away chuckling at the soft scratches at the door. Kal was not impressed.

"Kal go lie down! We will be finished soon" Henry called out and ignored the high whines and more insistent scratching at the door and leaned over you sucking at your neck decorating it as he saw fit leaving marks of red and purple biting his mark into the crook of your neck then lower tracing a warm wet train over your thin shirt. You moaned clutching his waist trapping him between your thighs using the grip you had to rock up onto him trying to ease the burning in your core.

"Oh whats this? Someone is impatient considering she wanted to keep playing with Kal?" His voice came out as a deep rasp making you gasp cupping his face.

"You treating me with your Geralt babe?" He smiled latching onto your ear rocking down onto you drawing out soft mewls. You vaguely heard Kals whines become louder barks out side the door hearing the dog jump up pawing at the handle of the door trying to break in.

"Oh you like?~" You sighed quickly trying to rid your tshirt panting feeling just how wet your slit had got, you were embarrassingly wet considering you hadn't even done anything yet.

"Fuck yes~ oh god its so-ah fuck its so hot Henry~" he pulled back growling in the new low tone you hadn't known he was capable of, his large hands helped remove the tshirt throwing it across the room and latched onto your tits biting and sucking slow flicking his tongue across a pebbled nipple as his hands stripped you of your shorts. he chuckled seeing the damp patch, your arousal sticking to the material in one neat line.

"Oh you really do need me don't you love~" you nodded to him whining when he pulled back grunting a growl biting your boob and sucking harshly. You both moved in tandem rolling around the sheets grinding ,rocking ,biting and grunting both intent on ignoring the pup crying outside the door. He would wear himself out and get bored. Well that was the plan anyway.

Henry finally pinned you and descended on your core like a starving man given the sweetest fruit. You cried out fingers in his hair unsure what spurred on this heated frenzie but would happily indulge him. One thing you loved about him is he was always up for eating you out, the man thrived on it! He seemed to get a massive kick out of feasting on you until you came all over him. You grunted as he suckled on your bud teasing and twisting his supple lips across it Nipping you began to loose yourself panting and jerking up into his mouth chasing a sweet release you hadn't known you needed and then you heard it.

A deep loud echoing mournful howl. Even Henry stopped frowning up at you from between your legs. That was new, Kal wasn't a howly dog, he barked and yipped giving off the weirdest groans and moans. But never howled. You both burst out laughing unable to stop it as the howls were all over the place, loud and quiet raspy and uneven like Kal was an apprentice learning on the job.they were less 'howls' and more 'how-wo-wow-wo-wow' It was clear this was his first time but bless him he was trying to be the wolf of the house. You panicked as he began to get the hang of it and patted Henry's shoulder. he was still chuckling finding Kals new found voice hilarious.

"Quick stop him! If he learns that we'll never hear the end of it!" You chuckled pulling the thin sheet over you as Henry swore and quickly slinked off the bed racing to the door opening it stopping Kal in his tracks. The Akita smiled panted a few breaths thumped his tail on the floor then collected his rope entering, jumping on the bed without a care in the world.

"Babe?" You asked biting the inside of your cheek trying to stop the giggles as Henry began to scowl at the fluffy bear sprawling out on his side of the bed a flush building up his chest settling over his face. He cleared his throat.

You and Henry watched as Kal moved dropping the rope by your hand waiting for you to continue your game of tug. You flopped back in peels of laughter at Henry's face. The man looked amused and livid at the same time as realization struck. Kal, lovable cute baby boi Kal had just played Henry like a fiddle. You didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the fact your boyfriend, your chosen mate had just been outsmarted by a dog.

"Yes love?" He said none to happy with how things had turned out, here he was standing at the foot of his bed painful hard on and there you were naked and willing...In his bed...With Kal. This was not the plan.

"I hate to break it to you...But you've just been cock blocked in your own house by your dog....For a game of tug!" You giggled as you threw Henry's previous words back at him petting Kal who was still fiddling with the rope trying to make you grab it.

"No shit...Can we still fuck? I mean he can have my side! I'm gonna be on top of you anyway?" You gaped at him as he rounded the bed fulling intent on rolling on top of you sliding home. You held up your hand to him.

"Nope! No way am I fucking you next to Kal!" Henry ignored you crouching over you trying to lay you back down to finish what he started before being rudely interrupted by the Akita now in bed with his girlfriend.

"Oh babe why not? this is painful, look I'm going purple...Besides you started it its your responsibility~" he whined trying to bat away your pushing hands leaning in to capture you with a burning kiss. You dodged anticipating his next move, his kisses were always a sure fire way to make you completely melt and give in to him. you quickly twisted away throwing your legs over the side of the bed placing your hands either side of his naked hips, pressing him back as he still tried to gain on you. you swallowed looking up at him meeting his lopsided grin, trying to ignore the proud cock swaying in front of you almost tapping your heaving breasts.

"How about the shower? He's scared of the bathroom since his last bath?" Henry snapped his fingers and clapped face lighting up as he patted your hands slowly easing them off of him.

"Fuck yes! Babe you are a genius!" He moved over and kissed your face making you bat him away and then he turned to Kal wagging a finger at him.

"And you my four legged son are a pain in the ass!" You shook your head patting Kal as he tilted his head  he looked offended with his dads statement. You looked to the bathroom door as Henry's pert ass vanished around the door frame.

"Daddy didn't mean it baby boy~ you know how he is when he doesn't get his way...Just a spoiled man child~ he loves you really" Kal whined ears flattening  as he heard the shower switch on. You patted the dog with a sigh and got up padding across the bedroom to the en suit.

"Don't worry baby you stay there and daddy wont get you in the mean old shower~" you giggled scratching his ears as he huffed  in defeat. His daddy had got the better of him and the Akita wasn't pleased. He grumbled as Henry poked his head around the door frame wriggling his brows at you as you passed him getting a playful smack on the rear. then he faced the dog and stuck his tongue out childishly to the dog who huffed and turned around choosing to give you both a clear view of his ass.

[mamamittens]

Coming this October

(Inspired by the Voices of the Void playthrough on IGP's YouTube, specifically the Black Hole Singing)

The monitors buzzed with life as data flew across the screens endlessly. Complex code being broken down to their base parts and reassembled. Scrubbed clean of interference.

You had to hear it again.

The doctor you sent the original file to barely noted it's massive size.

He didn't even comment on what was in it.

You barely slept after hearing it yourself but the grainy, looping sounds from gas giants that barely resembled speech got to him? Did he think the audio was a hoax?

Did he think you were fucking with him?

It felt more like the universe was fucking with you.

Hours. Days. Weeks. The sound haunted you still.

Echoed in your restless dreams.

An angelic choir in the vastness of space. Layered voices singing through remarkably little static. You found yourself humming the tune as you worked on the satellites that your job depended on.

So here you were. Equipment upgraded to the point that the government was probably watching your every move now. Perfectly fixated on...

Nothing.

The 'black hole' you had found so long ago was just... Gone.

You felt cold sweat drip down your body.

Where did it go?

Black holes don't just disappear. Even singing ones.

Especially ones that sing.

There was no evidence of a collapsed black hole in that small corner of space. All the nearby stars that were surely being pulled in before were still there. No blow back. No eerie empty space except for the coordinates you had noted down on a old sticky note.

Like it was never there.

But your data didn't lie.

There was supposed to be something there. And now there wasn't.

You could still hear the echo of a song, incomprehensible and beautiful and terrifying.

But there was just you. In an empty room. Filled with servers and computers all telling you the same thing.

There. Was. Nothing. There.

You didn't want to believe it.

But...

Maybe...

Maybe you needed to sleep more. Take some of those sleep aids you packed in your old apartment.

Actually rest for once in this lonely research base.

And that's what you did. After a thorough hot shower, a full meal of something that wasn't an MRE. Really treated yourself to human comforts in the face of an uncaring reality.

You curled up in your bed, warm and comfortable for the first time in weeks.

If you cried a little in frustration well, no one could see you anyway.

The stars were bright outside your window, a vivid ribbon of light cutting through the trees as an aurora borealis ignited above your isolated base. You were reminded of the simpler beauty of the universe as you drifted off.

What inspired you to look deeper as a young child.

The comets, stars, constellations, and many distant galaxies humanity was I'll equipped to explore. An endless universe of beauty and possibilities.

Not the horrific implications of a song that enraptured you for weeks on end, and seemingly only you.

Darkness swallowed you in pieces. Your limbs growing heavy and numb.

Fingers. Hands. Toes and feet. Sensation dulling as you drifted off. You relaxed into it. Aware that full rest was so close and there was nothing stopping you from enjoying it now.

The distant sound of a door opened and closed.

Some things, you supposed, were not meant to be found.

Footsteps approached at an unbothered pace without any hesitation. Like they knew exactly where to find you in the maze of hallways.

And that was okay.

Something soft gently brushed back your hair. A warm and metallic scent washing over you.

Your heart kept a steady rhythm, lost in the final stages of falling asleep.

Fuzzily, you sighed and nuzzled the warm hand that pressed over your cheek. Thumb brushing under your closed eye.

"I'm sorry it took so long... You wouldn't believe how hard it was to find this place." Static filled your head, warping their voice.

Humming resonated in your sparse room, echoing over your skin. Horrifyingly familiar, but your heavy body refused to respond. Choosing instead to sink into the haunting beauty.

An incredibly personal song, lacking the many voices, and more intimate than before. Untainted with static and light-years of distance.

You could barely wonder what they looked like now. If they were still many rings of light in the darkness. If it was even a hand that touched you so sweetly.

You were simply lost to the universe of possibilities and dreams. Finally at rest.

"It's time for us to go home."

[joonapeach]

skylines (nj)

college!au, where namjoon openly chases you and you love running from those advances. that is, until everyone in your architecture department finds out you’re the daughter of the man behind the biggest architecture firm in the country. 

alternatively... namjoon is a simp for you until he’s suddenly not 

author’s note: sometimes i just wanna write for the fun of it and not take life so seriously so this is what i churned out. 8.8k words of some minor pining and mini character development for our oc because tbh, being a student sucks and you get so caught up in your insecurity sometimes

also reposted on ao3

[this is fluff and light-hearted, with a bit of a rivalry trope, 8.8k words]

You love skylines.

From when you were six years old with short legs, you remember craning your neck up high to see each building that surrounded you. At that age, the world seemed big and you seemed small but you loved it. You loved seeing the world build and function around you. 

From then on outwards began your decades-long relationship with your first love - buildings. 

Well, you called it buildings and your father called it architecture. You were the daughter of his dreams, his proclaimed legacy. What luck I have, he would say, that I have a daughter who will grow up to work beside me.

Growing up, those comments were your food for the day. You would eat up his encouragements and cheers throughout high school, serving him back your high grades on a gold platter.

This is the way you’ve worked through your past nineteen years. It’s a little basic, maybe, but you’ve operated on your father’s ambition for you. 

But like all good things, even that seemed to come to an end. Since entering university and embarking on your path as an architecture major, the once comforting encouragement has slowly changed to a choking chain around you.

You’ve learnt a lot in two semesters at university. You’ve learnt how to finish assignments the night before, how to memorize historical names and dates minutes before an exam, you’ve learnt how fun it can be to be with your friends.

But most of all, you’ve learnt that… you’re not special. 

You’re surrounded by overachievers, all like you, all perhaps better than you in some way. You’re the daughter of the man behind HN Architects, but some of your classmates look like they’re on their way to the top of the chain.

You always thought you deserved your seat, your privilege, because you’d worked for it. These days, it doesn’t seem much like that. And you worry that your father is thinking the very same thing.

Let’s finish this assignment, you sigh, there’s not much left. Let’s do it, you give yourself a pep talk, fighting back a yawn at the practically empty library before dawn.

Books crash down on your table, right beside you. You shake, being pulled so abruptly out of your reverie. Although maybe you should be thankful, for the sleep that was threatening your productivity seems to have run away from the sound. 

“Excuse me,” you scoff loudly, making your presence known to the disturbance.

From above the tower of books on the desk, peeks out a familiar dimpled smile. His eyes glint with mischief and despite the early hours of the day, his face reads no exhaustion.

“You’re excused.” 

You groan. “There’s an entire empty library, you can only sit here?”

“Studying is more fun with company,” he retorts with a grin.

“It’s studying. It’s not meant to be fun,” you reply, hostile. “Didn’t I tell you to stop showing up in front of me with no purpose?’

He smiles again, confidently with his eyes unmoving from you. It’s almost unnerving, how much you see Namjoon smile in front of you. Architecture students are not meant to be this happy. They aren’t meant to carry a warm smile everywhere they go, looking at people with such attentive intensity.

“I haven’t shown up without a purpose though,” he says. “I came to ask for help with the assignment.” 

This time, you smile. But your smile is one of disbelief and amusement.

“Yes, that’s very believable, Namjoon,” you cock a brow. “You’re the one finishing assignments a week early and screwing up the curve for everyone but I’m sure I could help you with whatever you need.”

He grins, taking a seat next to you. “Hey, sometimes even I need help,” he replies but then pauses. “Ah, you’re right. I should’ve gone with coming to offer you help. That’s a lot more believable.”

“I don’t need your help,” you argue. “Stop showing up in front of me. And stop subtly flexing in front of me. It’s nauseating.”

He throws his head back and laughs. He looks so happy that it almost stirs a scary, fluttering feeling in your stomach. “You should be the last person to feel jealous of me, _____.”

You glare at him. “Yeah, because I’m the one who threatens your ranking?”

He shakes his head. “No, because I would help you with everything if you just asked.”

You still, for a moment. His words lull over in your head and they feel a bit weird. Your major is competitive and cut-throat, even if it doesn’t appear it. To you, Namjoon is your biggest rival, your biggest worry because you can never match up to him.

“Well, I’m not asking you for a thing. Is there really nothing you stress over?”

“No, there is. I just don’t cry over my textbook the nights before exams.”

“That was one time,” you mumble, infuriated. “And I had every right to be crying that night. It was the hardest exam that term and I have big shoes to fill. I can’t afford to be bothering people, like you,” you say with an intentional offense.

He takes none. “Big shoes? Who’s putting expectations on you?”

“Just some family. Stop being nosy,” you say swiftly. “And you didn’t even tell me. What do you stress over?”

He pauses, not giving a response for a moment. You wonder if it’s because there’s really nothing he stresses over. You wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. While you and your friends have all cracked under the pressure of your degree, you especially with the added burden of your father… Namjoon has not once shown signs of struggle. He walks through life with that smile every day.

“Finding work,” he says after a while.

“Huh?”

He meets your eyes. “You asked me what I worry about. I worry about finding work when I graduate,” he says sincerely.

You bite back a rude laugh. “Please, Namjoon. Get real,” you roll your eyes. “You really think you can worry about that? You were the top of our class all last year.”

You don’t do a good job of hiding your envy, but it’s beyond you to care at this point. You’ve become this person now. The one who seeks everything out of their number on the paper.

“But I don’t have any connections. I come from a village, practically, as you like to call it,” he says with a chuckle. It stings you a little, he’s referring to the time you and your friends had put him down out of jealousy with those words. But he doesn’t say it like it bothers him. He says it like it’s true. 

“So?” you say, looking away from him and back on your sheet. “You don’t always need connections.”

“Not always, but a lot of the time,” he shrugs.

“Any company who takes a look at your record and speaks to you for five minutes would want you, Namjoon,” you exhale, knowing your words are 100% true. You think about your father, about HN Architects. Namjoon’s the kind of guy who your father wouldn’t think twice about hiring. He’s the epitome of someone who could fill any shoes you gave him.

You scoff bitterly. “Wait a second. Why am I comforting you right now? You’re a success story in the making,” you snap and he laughs, even though you didn’t intend it to be a joke. “You should be comforting me, you idiot. I don’t even know if I’ll have Mr. Labadee’s assignment done in time for submission!”

He puts his hands up. “Okay, okay, don’t worry. Why do you think I’m here?” he looks away, still smiling as he takes the pencil from your hand and moves closer to the sheet.

“What?” you say, watching the way his eyebrows furrow and his eyes scan the paper. He’s losing himself in the sheet now, and it feels like watching a prodigy at work. You picture this is what it would feel like to watch Bill Gates code on a computer before he formally started his career or watching The Beatles pen a song before they made it big. 

“Hm?”

“Did you come here for me?” you ask and for a split second, you see his eyes shift. “Did Chae tell you I was here?”

He doesn’t respond, instead focusing on the assignment. “Your calculation is wrong here. Look,” he says, pointing at a section. As he explains your mistake, you smile satisfied. 

He doesn’t need to admit it. You two have gone through this very situation so many times now, that you both know it’s true. Namjoon always comes for you.

/

You have kept your background, your family, extremely private since joining university.

In high school, you made the mistake of letting people know that you were the daughter of HN Architects. It resulted in years of people smooching up to you, gossiping behind your back, mean assumptions, and just a general nightmare.

That nightmare would only multiply if your friends here found out about it. They were all architect majors, all in the same cut-throat degree, and you came from privilege. 

It scared you, knowing what could happen if they ever found out. You begged your family to make sure that nothing would tie you to them here, keeping your name different on the registrar, not publishing photos of you in the paper. You couldn’t risk all the friends and relationships you made. Even if they said things won’t change, you know they would. They always do.

“I need to sleep for 10 years,” you mumble, falling on your bed. 

“Fuck this, I wish I was you right now,” Chae cries from her side of the room. “I’ve got one more submission.”

“I woke up at 4 to finish it so you should be fine,” you laugh, looking at her. “And did you send Namjoon to me?”

Chae fights a smile on her face. You sigh, knowing you’ve opened Pandora's box.

“He came to me asking about you last night. I told him you were sleeping, but you’d be at the library at 5 working on the assignment,” she smirks cheekily. “Why, did he come?” she asks, not hiding the overly inquisitive edge to her question.

You say nothing, deciding to turn on your laptop.

“He did!” she screams and your eyes widen, telling her to be quiet. “Sorry! I just can’t help it. That’s so sweet,” she squeals.

“Stop sending him after me. You’re encouraging him.”

“You’re encouraging him!” she counters. “You let him help you with your assignment, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but-”

“And you showed up at his dorm last week for notes, didn’t you?”

“Okay, but-”

“And you told him off for helping Eun like four days ago, remember?”

“Chae,” you stop her, sternly. “Have you lost your mind? Don’t you realize what all those things have in common?”

“They all are evidence of the fact that you reciprocate his year-long courtship?”

You roll your eyes. “No, idiot. All these things are work-related. I can’t afford to be falling behind, and I need his help.”

“Okay, but you were jealous of Eun-”

“I was annoyed that he was helping other people score higher! The last thing I need right now is the lazy kids of the class becoming my competition too,” you complain, grumbling.

Chae stares you down. “_____, not everything is about your degree,” she says light-heartedly, but you know your statement bothers her. 

Exhaling, you shut your eyes. You hate it when conversations come to this. Sometimes, you wish you could just tell people which family you came from. Maybe it would do them good, to make them realize that yes, for you, everything is about your degree. Everything in your life revolves around being successful in this path. 

You were cynical but at least you were real. You admitted things the way they were, when competition was competition, you said it, and when you needed something, you asked for it. That made it okay, you told yourself.

And when it comes to Namjoon… it’s especially okay. He’s both the only reason you’re hanging on okay in your degree, and the reason you feel insecure. You wonder how it can be that someone like him exists.

“Anyways, are you really gonna leave talking about Joon there?” Chae scoffs. “He’s liked you since we started. You really won’t do anything about it?”

“Namjoon is nothing but another classmate that stresses me out, Chae. I don’t see him that way. I just like his work ethic.”

Chae laughs. “You’re so skewed, honestly. Are you busy tomorrow?”

“Why, are you planning on ratting me out to him again?”

“No, silly,” she laughs, although you both know it’s likely she’d do it again. “Let’s go to the Autumn fair tomorrow. After I submit.”

“The fair? You mean those three stalls they set up and call it an event?”

She frowns. “Don’t be mean. Hobi and the others have really been working hard on it this year. It’ll be nicer than the last, I promise.”

“As long as there are at least 10 booths this year.”

“You’re too mean for your own good, _____,” she says, tsk-ing. “One day, you’ll see what it’s like to be on the other end.”

/

Your overactive imagination always paints a skyline for you, where there’s an empty space. You can always picture different styles of buildings, standing together, making a city. 

It’s at times like those you realize that even if you wanted to give up, even if you tried to pursue something else, your heart will always come back to this. There is nothing more that belonged to you than this.

Even if it’d become difficult now, it didn’t matter. It became a source of worry more than an outlet of passion, but it’s still your calling. You can’t give up on something you love this much.

“Your toffee apple is dripping,” you hear his voice before you see him.

You want to turn and snap at him but the sticky toffee syrup that falls onto your fingers stops you.

“Ugh,” you groan, trying to fix it. Namjoon’s hand comes out with a tissue, quickly wiping your fingers without a word. Even after he’s done, the sticky feeling remains. “I should just throw this away.”

He laughs. “Let’s get candy corn.”

“No, thanks, I have to go find Chae and Yuna.”

Even though you step away, you hear his footsteps almost immediately behind you. 

“What’s the rush?” he says, catching up beside you. When you two walk together like this, his tall figure towers over in a way that makes you feel small. “Shouldn’t you offer to buy me candy corn? Did you forget how I helped you at 5 in the morning two days ago for Professor Labadee’s class?”

“You chose to wake up at that time, not me,” you say, keeping your eyes trained ahead. You weren’t expecting much from this fair, but the students had done well. Bright fairy lights decorate the lamp posts around you and along the long path, dozens of stalls are set up. It all feels a little bit like a movie.

“As long as you got it done,” he says under his breath. You dare to take a glimpse of him and inhale sharply. He’s wearing his smile, he always is, but the fairy lights reflect on his face, illuminating him like an angel. Everything about him feels good.

You look away almost immediately. “Stop following me Namjoon,” you say, stopping at a trinkets stall and smiling at the girl behind the table.

“But I like seeing you outside of architecture things,” he grins confidently.

You opt to ignore him, asking the price of something that catches your eye.

He cranes his neck to see what it is. “Want me to get it for you?”

You quickly counter. “Absolutely not,” you say, handing over your money notes. 

“You’re really buying an ornament of buildings?” he cocks a brow. “Don’t you want something like this instead?” he picks up a small snow globe, shaking it so the snow moves. The globe is miniscule to begin with, but you notice how in his hands, it looks almost tiny.

“What can I say? I like buildings.”

He smiles. “More than people, maybe.”

You sigh, ignoring his statement. Once you get the paper bag with your purchase inside, you keep walking ahead. You count to three before you hear his footsteps mimic yours.

“I’ll buy you candy corn, then you leave me alone,” you turn to say to him. “It’s not good that you’re always showing up where I am.”

He nods like an obedient puppy. Then he frowns and asks, “why is it not good?”

When you don’t respond, focusing on walking to the candy booth, he adds, “is it not good for you? Getting attached to me now?”

You don’t have to see his face to know he’s doing his goofy smile again. “It’s not good for you to keep going through these many rejections in a lifetime.”

He laughs, your words not bothering him the slightest. Standing in front of the candy booth, Jungkook and Jae, two of your architect classmates greet you.

“Hey Joon! Aw, you two hanging out again?” Jae smiles widely as if he’s in some big secret. You roll your eyes, not saying a word but pointing to the candy corn.

“_____ is treating me to candy corn. Isn’t she sweet?”

“I’m not treating you out of kindness, I’m doing it so you feel compensated for your efforts with my assignment.” 

Jungkook and Jae share an amused look that you almost miss. Shuffling through your pocket, you start counting the money to give. As you hand over the money to Jae, Jungkook places a brown paper bag in Namjoon’s hands.

“You two enjoy yourselves,” Jungkook beams brightly.

You scoff. “Is there really such a thing as enjoyment when I have him on my tail?” 

Without bidding them a proper goodbye, you walk away from the stall, leaving the three standing. Like clockwork, Namjoon is beside you again.

“Here,” he says, and suddenly the bag of candy corn is in your hands.

You raise a brow. “What are you giving this to me for? You were the one who wanted it.”

“You were eating a sad, overpriced toffee apple. This should be for you too.”

“Namjoon.” You give him a look, but he pays no mind. 

Without saying anything more, you two walk together in silence. It didn’t intend to be this way, but it feels nice now. You feel good that you were dragged out of a cycle of the bedroom to the classroom to the library for once.

Of course, it’s weird that amidst all this, Namjoon is the one beside you. Usually, when you see him, your mind wanders to the place that curses him for being everything you wish you were. But tonight, you’re laying off those thoughts.

Staring at the crowd around the speakers, you two pause for a bit. You see Chae and Yuna, along with your other coursemates all together.

Still beside you, Namjoon speaks out of the blue. “Why don’t you call me Joon?”

“What do you mean? I didn’t realize I was required to,” you shrug at the random question. “I don’t know you like that.”

“Everyone in our class calls me Joon. Even your group member who I met that one time is calling me Joon,” he argues. “You know me better than all those people. If anything, you should be the only one.”

“What are you on about? I don’t know you at all,” you throw a blank look his way. “And don’t argue that we spend a lot of time together. You follow me around and show up where I am. That’s not spending time together.”

“We’re spending time together right now, aren’t we?” 

“It’s a first. Don’t get used to it.”

He laughs as if your cold remarks are something affectionate. “I don’t think I really could get used to seeing you outside the library, _____. You’re there more than me and I’m always studying too.”  

You scoff cynically. “Are you flexing your rank again on me?”

“_____, if I cared so much about my rank, I wouldn’t be helping you with work all the time,” he laughs, amused.

“I don’t know. Maybe helping me is all part of your plan to keep beating me,” you say. “Isn’t this just a power move? You always showing up to help me.”

He laughs again before his stare stills on you. His eyes are bright and sparkling… or is it just the effect of the stupid fairy lights? You can hardly tell.

Despite yourself, it all makes your stomach drop. You hate it when Namjoon shows up unannounced in your life, but more than that, you hate it when he gives you this kind of look. Like he can’t look anywhere else but at you.

“More than a power move, it’s just a gesture for you.”

The fluttering feeling worsens and you blink. You choose to say nothing, instead staring ahead at the view. “That is the ugliest building I’ve ever seen.”

For a second, he smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Eventually, he humors you. “It’s not all that bad.”

“In my professional opinion as a future architect, that is the exact type of building I would want to bulldoze.”

“Well, in my professional opinion as another future architect, I’d say your standards are far too high.”

“I’m allowed to keep my standards high. It’s me,” you smile with a glint in your eye.

He laughs, staring at you softly. “That I can agree with.”

You taunt him playfully. “You’re so predictable. Does it not get tiring hanging off my every word?”

He shakes his head loyally. “Absolutely not. I think everything you say is valuable and worth hanging off.”

“How lame,” you joke although you two share a smile. It’s true, he is a little predictable. But it’s Namjoon’s predictability that at times, catches you off guard. It’s fun, knowing that he’s two steps behind you wherever you are.

A warm feeling stirs in your body and you wonder if it’s the autumn air. Glancing up at Namjoon, the same air ruffles his hair endearingly and you tear yourself away from staring at it.

“I’m only gonna say it once so if there’s any word of mine you wanna hang off, it’s this,” you say before shoving the bag of candy corn back into his hands. “Power move or not, thanks for helping me. I really need it sometimes and I appreciate it.”

The grin on his face widens. “One more time, I didn’t hang off it enough!”

“I told you, only one time.”

“But the music was so loud, I couldn’t hear you well.”

“Too bad.”

“Come on, _____, take pity on me.”

“Shut up and eat your candy corn.”

/

You find yourself quickly back in your routine after the Autumn fair, working on new assignments and projects till your worst nightmare comes to life unexpectedly.

“Please be on time, _____!” Chae repeats to you for the fifth time that morning.

“Chae, I’ll be there. I’ll literally run from the design building to the auditorium, okay?”

She clicks her tongue at you. “Stop acting like you’re doing me a favor by showing up. You should be excited.”

“I am. But… I mean, do we really need this kind of random assembly for our architecture department?” you groan, slipping your laptop into its case. “Can’t they just give us the extra time to work on our homework?”

“But there’ll be companies there!” she retorts, wide-eyed and excited. “Just imagine. This is like those movies, where they come and scout students and then bam, life is sorted.”

You nod, forcing a smile. You remember your privilege, knowing your worry has never once been finding work but living up to the work that was set out for you. But you could never explain that here. How could you cry about the burden that kept you so troubled when it was a burden any one of your friends would happily want?

“Okay. I’ll see you there,” you settle for a wave, walking out to leave. You rush with your bag on your back to your classroom, immersed in your lesson till the hour finishes up.

For the moments after class finishes, your mind is blank. You’re going over your homework in your head, packing your things and your eyes widen. The meeting. You almost forgot.

True to your words, you actually do end up running from the design building to the auditorium. Sprinting from your class to the auditorium proves to be a harder workout than you anticipated and your heart can’t stop racing.

Stepping inside the auditorium, you jump into the first empty seat you see at the entrance.

“Where is she?” you mumble under your breath. Your eyes shift around the room, looking for a familiar head of short black hair. Catching sight of Chae, you wave to her but she doesn’t notice you at all. Instead, she’s busy talking to a group of students all from your year.

Everyone’s sat together, cozy and comfortable in a conversation together. You can even see Namjoon in the row above Chae, chatting energetically. Your heart strangely pangs.

Sometimes, seeing everyone like this, everyone from your major and year together, made you feel more like an outsider than anything. At first, you’d chalked it up to be because of your obsession with studying and academics… but students better than you, students like Namjoon and Mina, all seemed to be doing fine. 

In the end, you realized it isn’t anything to do with that. You feel like an outsider because you are one. You’ve tried your hardest to blend in, but the fact remains that you feel alone in the problems you have. You’ve kept your identity as the daughter of HN Architects a secret, you’ve kept your family pressures a secret… Now you’re alone in the burden of your struggles.

Sometimes, you’ve thought about opening up. But the thought terrifies you even more.

If you felt so alone while keeping the truth of your ambitions a secret… there’d be no telling what kind of way your friends would treat you after finding out.

“We’re lucky enough to have… here’s a representative from Canvas Corp… looking for fresh talent… Yongchan Architecture…” you’re hardly paying attention to the speakers on stage till you finally hear, “and most fortunately, the chairman of HN Architects!”

Your head shoots up so fast that it almost flies off. No fucking way.

Your father is smiling on the stage, wearing a crisp suit and greeting the architecture department heads. Without realizing it, your body cowers back into your seat as you see his eyes scan the auditorium. He must be looking for you - his daughter.

His daughter that not a single soul in this room knew was you.

Your heart goes into panic mode before you try to calm yourself down. Relax, you mutter repeatedly to yourself although it’s less effective than you thought it’d be.

Your eyes dance between your father on stage and your group of friends with Chae sitting seats away from you. Neither of them have noticed you.

Instead, your classmates are all watching your father with starstruck eyes. They’re staring at your father like he’s their idol.

Well, objectively, maybe he could be. After all, you admire your father for the very same reason every architecture student does - your father is a legend. His company has one of the best reputations in the country, which feeds your pride, and he’s nothing short of a hard-working, inspiring man.

Namjoon, in particular, is staring at your father like he can’t believe his eyes. It’s a look you’ve never seen from him before. Like he’s both nervous and thinks he’s in a dream. It’s almost endearing.

“To celebrate having the chairman of HN Architects with us today, we’ll have him say a few words!” Mr. Lim, the head of the architecture department, announces enthusiastically into the mic. He turns to your father, “do you mind?”

“Not at all!” your father grins, taking the mic before starting. “It’s my pleasure to be here today! In fact, seeing all of you reminds me of my own days as an architecture student…”

He trails off into a long speech, excitedly. You’ve been witness to every single one of your father’s inspirational speeches since the day you were born so you fight back a yawn. On the contrary, your classmates look like they’re hanging onto every single word.

As your father paces across the stage, he inches towards your side. You blink in panic, bending down but before you know it, it’s too late. His eyes sparkle with joy.

You almost worry he’s gonna wave at you mid-speech. But he doesn’t, simply shooting an overly friendly smile your way. You sneak a glance at your classmates and they’re all giving you a strange look - one that most definitely reads what the heck is he smiling at you for?

Meeting Chae’s eyes in particular, you give an awkward smile and shrug. Soon enough, your father turns to the side and you finally think you can breathe.

“That’s why I’d like to encourage you all to live up to your potential! The world is changing around you as you know it and as future architects, you can be a part of that,” your father enthusiastically continues. His eyes are on you again. “And this is what I tell my beautiful daughter everyday! She loves skylines, my dear _____, and she’s going to be a wonderful architect too!”

My life is officially over.

A little dramatic but that exact thought crosses your mind as you duck into your seat. You think you hear the collective gasp around the auditorium or maybe your ears are playing tricks on you.

No, it’s probably as bad you think it is. Your father’s called you out by name and exposed your identity that you worked so hard to conceal. Your life is quite literally over.

Oblivious to your misery, your father grins happily on stage. He returns the mic to Mr. Lim before stepping to the side. The rest of the assembly goes by without you realizing. You’re still numb to the fact of what just happened.

You risk a glance at your classmates, and in cliche movie fashion, they’re all staring at you with mouths gaping wide open. Every single one of them.

Your neck heats up and you quickly turn around. But curiosity gets the best of you a few minutes later, and you risk looking again.

They’re still staring at you in shock. Like they can’t believe their eyes.

Chae especially is looking at you with hurt flashing across her face. It squeezes at your heart and you feel overcome with guilt for lying to your friend for a year. You don’t dare to imagine what she’s thinking now.

Without realizing, your eyes travel over to Namjoon. Much to your surprise, he’s not looking at you. He’s the only one with his eyes looking ahead blankly, deep in thought.

You frown, evading everyone’s stares to focus on him. An unrecognizable emotion is written all over his face… is it realization? Regret? Embarrassment?

You can hardly tell. But for the first time, an uncomfortable feeling plunges in your stomach at the fact that Namjoon’s not looking at you.

/

“Dad!” you cry. “How could you do that?”

Your father smiles happily at the sight of you, the two of you standing outside the auditorium in a secluded, private spot. The torture, that was the assembly, has finally come to an end.

“What do you mean?” he answers in confusion. “Do you mean showing up here? Because I was invited by that Mr. Lim fellow, he-”

“Not that!” you whine, groaning into your palms. “I’m talking about saying I’m your daughter in front of the whole architecture department!”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, that? What did I do wrong?”

Your jaw drops. “Dad, are you being serious?”

He nods, clear puzzlement on his face.

“Don’t you remember? I specifically asked for you and Mom to make sure that it never gets out!” you say. “Now, you’ve told everyone I go to college with that I’m the daughter of the man behind HN Architects!”

He blinks for a few seconds. “Is that so wrong?” he almost pouts like a child. “I didn’t know it was such a problem.”

“Of course, it is! Why do you think I asked you not to tell anyone?”

“...I thought you were being modest.”

“Modest?!” you exclaim, before sighing. There’s no use berating your father. It’s no one’s fault but your own for not preparing better for this situation.

“Did you really not want anyone to find out?”

You nod weakly.

“Why not?”

“I… I can’t explain it. They’ll freak out,” you look down. You can’t imagine how much worse your stress is gonna get from now on - it isn’t enough that your own title of the daughter of HN Architects is choking you to death… now you’ll have to deal with every single one of your classmates doing the same thing.

Things will never be the same again. For every grade you get, it’ll be discussed as the grade of the HN Architects’ daughter. For every drawing or idea you’ll submit, it’ll be scrutinized as the work of a girl from privilege. The pressure would multiply infinitely. 

“Oh dear, don’t be silly,” your father suddenly says, resting his hand on your head. “I’m sorry for that. I didn’t realize it was so serious to you. But even if they know, it’s not an issue. You’re an excellent student and it’s only right they pay you the respect as the future CEO of HN Architects.”

You shoot your father a smile but your stomach drops. “I guess so, thanks,” you mumble, unable to explain to him that it’s exactly what he said that terrifies you. 

For the rest of the day, you hide out off-campus in hopes to avoid facing reality.

/

“_____, I think you need to pay for the emotional shock you gave us,” Hobi laughs at the lunch table as soon as you arrive.

Hesitantly, you sit beside Chae who doesn’t share a word with you. Since yesterday, you haven’t even made eye contact with her, despite being her roommate. 

“I think I almost spat out my water when I heard my daughter,” Mina jokes and the table echoes in laughter. You smile awkwardly.

“Yeah… it’s not really a big deal,” you shrug.

“Not a big deal?! Hello! We’re talking to the next HN Architects CEO right now!” another student pipes up.

“_____, forgive me for all I did wrong last semester,” Yuri playfully adds.

“I think we need to be cleaning the floor for her to walk on!”

These statements all fly around the table, exchanged with laughs and smiles. Part of you cowers in the attention, uncomfortable by such blatant recognition of your upbringing.

Another part of you wonders… will things be okay?

You take a careful look around the table of your classmates. Not a single one seems to wear a glare, all sharing in jokes and smiles. For the strangest reason… you feel at ease.

Chae suddenly stands up, with her tray. “I’m done eating. I’ll see you guys later.”

Instantly, you mimic her and chase behind her retreating figure. “Wait Chae-”

“I have class right now-”

Like a child, you jump in front of her to block her path. “Okay, please just hear me out,” you say, pouting. “I’m sorry.”

She sighs. “What are you sorry for? It’s not a big deal.”

“You must feel… annoyed, right?”

Chae blinks at you. “I’ll admit, I was irritated at first. You come from such privilege and I’ve unloaded so much crap on you sometimes about being scared about post-college life while you never had that… but, I’m not really mad about that. You can’t help who you are, right?”

You nod. “You’re still mad at me though, aren’t you? For hiding it?”

She takes a second before replying, “I just… you’re so unreachable sometimes, _____. After I found out, I kind of realized why you’re so stressed all the time and what you meant whenever you alluded to things about your pressures and all… I’m just annoyed you never shared that part of you.”

“I’m sorry.”

For the first time since yesterday, Chae cracks a smile. “Don’t be sorry. I just want you to be more open with me. You don’t need to feel like you need to hide your background… I would’ve tried to understand either way.”

Her words soothe you more than you can explain. Since entering your major, you haven’t once relied on the people around you for support that wasn’t academic. Now, you’re realizing your fatal flaw.

“I’ll try to be better,” you say with a nod. “Thank you for not being mad at me.”

She laughs. “Anyway, you don’t need to worry about me,” she says with a glance elsewhere. “You should check up on him. He’s been spooked since yesterday.”

You turn on your heel to see Namjoon, walking around with the same strange expression on his face from the assembly. For a brief second, your eyes meet but the second flashes, and he quickly looks away.

“Did you see that?!” you scoff. “He just ignored me!”

Chae smiles. “Wow, there really is a first for everything.”

“What’s with him?” you say, watching his awkward walk in your opposite direction. He keeps glancing in your direction, but once he sees you staring at him, he swiftly looks away. It’s a completely new side to him. 

“I don’t know,” Chae shrugs. “He’s being weird. I thought he’d be running after you like always, but he’s resorted to this.”

You scoff again, unfamiliar with this Namjoon who runs away from you, rather than to you. You wonder what’s running through his mind, before pushing the thought away. He’s bound to come after you again after a few days.

/

The confidence with which you assumed Namjoon would be all over you again is faltering.

It’s been a full week since the assembly, and while life has seemingly gone back to normal for you (as normal as things can be)... Namjoon certainly has not.

In classes, he picks the furthest seat away on purpose. You even started to tease him by trying to sit in his front row with him, but instead, you found him in the back row - where he can’t even see. 

His lunches seem to be perfectly timed to not clash with yours. All of a sudden, he’s no longer in the library either. All the places you’d easily find Namjoon hovering over you, he’s disappeared from.

“Does he think this is effective?!” you rant to Chae in your dorm room. “That by suddenly ignoring me, I’ll become obsessed with him?!”

Chae smiles at you knowingly. “I don’t know… if that was his plan to begin with, I’d say it’s pretty effective-”

“Shut up, Chae! I’m just saying this is all so stupid!” you scoff. “Once or twice is fine but he’s actively avoiding me! He saw me in the library yesterday and acted like he forgot a book to leave! We were in the library for god’s sake! What book did he forget that he couldn’t find there?!”

Chae giggles like the situation is laugh-worthy. “Maybe he’s just busy.”

“He made time during final exams last year to bother me. How much busier could he be than he was then?”

“Or maybe he doesn’t want to distract you.”

“It’s not that for sure. Whenever I’d tell him that he’s distracting me before, he wouldn’t care,” you mumble under your breath annoyedly. Chae continues to grin at your behavior, as if your reaction were amusing.

You don’t say it to her but you know very well why you’re annoyed beyond relief. It’s because you know it’s to do with finding out about HN Architects.

You groan. You expected your classmates to be weird around you, maybe even your professors… but Namjoon was the last person you thought would suddenly make a 180 after learning about your family.

That’s why it’s aggravating. Because it’s the one thing you didn’t think he’d care about.

A part of you fears he’s realized just how pathetic you are. After all, Namjoon probably knows how much more promising he is compared to you and now… he had to sit with the fact that you were the daughter of HN Architects.

“Why don’t you just approach him yourself?”

You’re momentarily stunned by Chae’s suggestion. You shoot her a dirty glare.

“What?!”

“I’m not gonna chase after Namjoon! He should approach me himself!”

Chae looks at you like you’re crazy. “You’re the one who wants him to talk to you!”

“Exactly! He should come to me like he always does.”

A laugh escapes Chae’s lips. “Oh, _____… you don’t even realize it, do you?”

You cock a brow before shaking your head. “I don’t have time for your indirect dialogue. I’m just saying that if Namjoon doesn’t come to me and talk this out soon, I’m gonna have to do something very crazy.”

Chae’s eyes flicker with amusement. “Oh? And what’s that?”

You grimace, as if even saying it brings you humiliation. “I’m gonna go talk to him first.”

Chae bursts out laughing, despite your solemn expression. You brush her off, spending the rest of the night on your design homework but secretly planning on wringing Namjoon’s throat if he doesn’t go back to normal soon.

/

By now, you’re sure Namjoon can feel the daggers you’re shooting into his back.

He’s even risked turning back a few times, to see who’s glaring at him. But as soon as your eyes meet, his head spins around as if it were all in your head. He focuses on the professor teaching ahead of him, taking notes diligently.

Beside you, Chae says with a nudge, “so are you gonna do that very crazy thing you were planning?”

You ignore her for the sake of gritting your teeth. Usually, you have no trouble focusing in classes. It’s all because of this wretched situation that you’re so off-game.

As soon as the professor wraps up his powerpoint, you’re faster than anyone else in the class at packing up your things and zooming out the door. You don’t even bid Chae goodbye.

You tap your foot impatiently, staring directly at your target. 

Namjoon… try and ignore me now.

Hooking his bag over his shoulder, Namjoon comes to the door of the classroom before stopping his tracks. Aha, you smile pleased.

“Ah, I just forgot… to talk about my assignment with Mr. Choi,” he mutters out loud to no one in particular. The acting is so terrible that you don’t even have to think about it to know he’s intending it for you to hear.

You march up to him. “No, you don’t,” you scoff and when he looks up at the ceiling, you jump like an infant calling for attention. “Namjoon, if you value your life, you’re gonna drop this act right now,” you say in a menacing voice. 

Immediately, he gulps and looks down at you. His height towers over yours but you smile, knowing you’ve gained the upper hand here. He’s looking at you just as he did before - completely enamoured.

You say nothing but give a deadly gesture to follow you. He obeys without complaint.

When you two are finally in a spot you deem private enough, you raise your chin and look at him happily. Under your gaze, he looks down uncomfortably.

“So you want me to say it or will you explain what the hell is going on?”

He blinks. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, _____.”

Your blood boils. Now, he wants to feign ignorance. “You’re joking,” you deadpan.

He looks at you innocently and shakes his head. You sigh, blinking in confusion.

This whole situation is a first. True to your words, you’ve never actually… had to do anything more than bat an eye to know Namjoon would come to you. You don’t know the words to even ask what’s wrong.

“_____,” he says in a low voice. You glance up at him, completely losing your train of thought. The sight of him has never registered you disorientated before. But now, you can’t help but trace your eyes over his dimples and sparkling eyes.

You scoff at yourself. You must’ve lost your mind temporarily. “You know what I’m talking about!”

He shakes his head so you continue, “you used to always come to the library at my timings and sit on my lunch table.”

“Oh,” he nods. “That’s because I wanted to sleep in more so I changed my schedule around a bit.”

You blink at his explanation. “You sat at the back of the class when I came to the front row-”

“I just wanted to see what it’s like to sit there. Turns out, it sucks,” he pauses when you don’t reply. “_____?”

You frown, part confused and part innocently. “I just mean… why aren’t you following me anymore?”

The words are out of your mouth before you can help it and your eyes widen in humiliation. That isn’t the way you wanted to ask the question.

Namjoon, instead, is amused. He smirks ever so slightly, before cocking his brow and asking, “Are you asking me why I don’t chase you around anymore?”

His newfound confidence almost makes you lose your footing. This is Namjoon - the nerdy guy who’d come to you. He can’t have this effect on you.

You scoff, faking an assured smile. “Are you denying that you chased me around?”

He blinks. “I mean-”

“Surely, you accept the fact that you did chase me around for a whole year,” you say with a smile playing on your lips. Of course, between the two of you, you both know very well of Namjoon’s infatuation with you. He’s danced around those feelings for both of your comedy’s sake… but this time, you won’t let that slide.

He looks at you, tongue poking in his cheek. “Fine. I do chase you around.”

You almost smile with victory but you stop yourself. Before you can speak, he continues.

“But I won’t anymore. I’m sorry. It was wrong of me,” he says sincerely, seemingly ready on his toes to walk away. Your fingers wrap around his wrist without realizing.

“Wait!” you frown displeased. He’s glancing down at where your touch meets his hand and you instantly let go. “This makes no sense.”

He blinks, confused. “What do you… isn’t this what you’ve wanted?”

“You can’t just change your mind like that!” you argue, a strange desperation cutting into your voice. “You can’t make people get used to you and do that!”

Much to your surprise, he wears a small smile. “I didn’t think it’d bother you so much.”

“I can’t stand you,” you groan. “You chase me around, then you find out one tiny fact about my family and now, you think you’re so much better than me to come after me!” you yell, your heart hammering against your chest. You sound like a child, you know as much but… suddenly around him, all logic’s been thrown out your brain.

“_____,” he says in a breath, a glint in his eye that reads surprise and amusement. His dimples are poking out and you wonder what it’d be like to affectionately poke into one. “Do you… did you like when I would come to you?”

There’s no self-preserving answer to this, one that can save both your dignity and pride. You know what you should say to his question, but nerves are prickling under your skin.

It isn’t the nerves you feel before submitting a drawing or entering an exam, but a whole new uncharted territory of nerves. Everything about this conversation is uncharted territory.

“_____, do you…” he starts a question, before nervously brushing the nape of his neck. He looks shy to even ask but after a moment, he looks at you like a child with candy and says, “do you like me?”

Your heart’s in your stomach. Immediately, you laugh, “no! No! Why would I?! Are you crazy?! Why would I ever like-”

“I don’t know,” he blinks innocently, but the stare he holds on you seems suddenly intimate. “That’s what I’m thinking. Why would you ever care about why I stopped chasing after you, if you don’t like me?”

His cocky grin annoys you. You shoot him a deathly look. “Don’t get too confident with me, Joon,” you say although you’re fumbling with words. “I still remember when you couldn’t even look me in the eye.”

He takes a step closer, holding your stare with no qualms. Your heart speeds up again, like you’ve been running.

“_____,” he says softly with a victorious smile. “You like me, don’t you?”

“I’m not answering your stupid question. First, you explain to me why the hell you think you can treat me the way you have the last week-”

“Because I thought you didn’t like me back,” he answers smoothly. “You’re the daughter of HN Architects and I’ve been wasting your time all year long. I’ve always felt intimidated by you… but now, I realized I really wasn’t worth your time.”

You blink with a frown. “Namjoon-”

“I feel really embarrassed, _____… If I ever wanted to work at HN Architects, I wouldn’t even be able to show my face knowing the way I’ve bothered you-”

“You’ve never bothered me.”

“Huh?”

Your cheeks flush and you suddenly become very aware of the words that escaped your lips. You cast a hesitant glance at Namjoon and you can’t help it. Suddenly, everything feels a lot clearer.

“You know, you’re the kind of architect my father dreams about,” you find yourself saying. “You’re the kind of student someone like me should be. It all comes natural to you. I love buildings but everything I do, it’s just part of who you are… that’s why I acted like you bothered me.”

He’s at a loss for words before muttering, “_____…”

“All I ever think about is trying to fit the ideal I know I have to be and it all comes easy for you. You feel embarrassed in front of me…” you laugh with a scoff. “How do you think I feel, needing your help?”

“I never wanted to compete with you,” he says. “I just wanted to be by your side. I really wasn’t helping you for anything apart from looking for an excuse to be near you.”

There it is… the fluttering feeling.

The truth is, you’ve known all this time too. You’ve known that there was never any ulterior motive, just your cynical mind trying to conjure excuses.

You almost hate yourself at this moment. Your insecurity over your work has warped your thoughts so much that you convinced yourself that… that you feel nothing but annoyance for Namjoon.

“_____,” he starts. His hand hesitantly reaches up, stopping multiple times on its way before finally brushing your hair away from your forehead.

“I think it goes without saying but in my eyes, you’re the smartest person in our major and every time I’m with you, I don’t even care if you reject me or look for an excuse to go away,” he says. “You don’t even realize the way I see you.”

Your eyes sting and you’re not sure if it’s because his words move you or you’ve just forgotten to blink for a long while. “You’re so corny.”

He laughs. “Well, someone needs to tell you you’re doing a good job because I can tell you’re not telling yourself,” he says before sheepishly adding, “and I thought we were exchanging what we like about each other.”

“Who said I like you?”

He grins, ruffling your hair despite the scowl you give him. You say nothing but then give a smile. You didn’t expect today to feel so good… but somehow, that insecurity that plagues your mind at all hours of the day disappears for a while. 

All you can think about is wanting this feeling to last with him. Without warning, you reach to grab Namjoon’s wrist to walk out into the open garden of the campus. In front of your sight, there’s a skyline of buildings decorating the city.

“Do you still stand by your statement that that building is the ugliest?”

You grin. “It’s literally hideous, Joon. I can’t believe you’re the top of our class but think those colors look nice together.”

He gives a warm laugh, unable to disguise his happiness at the way you call him endearingly. Your eyes go back and forth between the skyline and Namjoon beside you before deciding that while buildings are your first true love… there’s something even more beautiful about the boy next to you.

hehe so excited to write on this blog if u read till the end jus know u have all my love

[butwhyduh]

The Batmobile

Jason todd x reader

Warning: angst, fluff, smut, it’s fucking in the fucking batmobile 🤷🏻‍♀️😏

It was a whole year ago that you found out about Jason being Red Hood. He had left a spare helmet in the back of his closet and you had pulled it on top of you when you grabbed a hoodie. After mentally freaking out, Jason had gotten you a bag of ice for the knot on your head.

It took a whole freaking year of knowing his secret and almost 2 years of dating for you to be invited to the Wayne Manor. Okay, actually Bruce had invited you within the first 6 months of dating. Jason was the one who wanted to keep you a secret.

You spent a good 2 hours looking through your entire closet to find something to wear. What the hell do you wear to dinner at a billionaire’s house? You relaxed a little when you saw Jason wearing plain jeans and a hoodie. Okay, yeah good. Casual was better. Not to mention that you were taking a motorcycle there.

You arrived in skinny jeans and a leather jacket that felt like a protection. You could act like a punk and most people won’t touch you. Especially when Jason had the scowl he was currently wearing. You followed his eyes to see the unmistakable form of Bruce Wayne in the drive.

Did Bruce specifically find children that resembled him? Much like Jason he was tall and muscular with dark hair and as you got closer you could see he also had blue eyes. He had a few wrinkles around his eyes and grey in his hair that seemed to add to his beauty rather than take it away. You’d never met a billionaire before.

“Hello,” Bruce said.

“Hello.” You shook his hand.

“I apologize for not having you over sooner but Jason seems to have wanted to keep you a secret,” he said with a tiny smile you almost missed.

“I wonder why,” Jason whispered sarcastically. Bruce ignored it. “Hello demon spawn,” he said and you gasped at the person you hadn’t seen before standing only a few feet from you.

“Damian Wayne,” he said with his hand out to you. You shook the young man’s hand and stated your name. He was only a inch or two within your height despite his youth and heavily resembled his father except for his deep olive skin tone and green eyes.

The door opened and a voice called out, “perhaps you should bring your party inside the manor. It will be snowing soon.” The polished English accent must have been Alfred.

Bruce moved to the side and you all walked in. Alfred had walked to the dinning room. The hallway had deep polished wood walls and was dimly lit by candles on candelabras. As you walked towards the room, a warm body grabbed your hand and you shrieked.

“Sorry! Sorry!” He said releasing your hand. You flushed, embarrassed. “I thought you saw me. I’m Dick.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.

Jason grasped your hand and stepped towards Dick with a look of murder on his face. You put your hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. It was an accident,” you said with a little awkward laugh. Jason relaxed a little.

Alfred stood in the doorway to the dinning room with a small smile. He gently cleared his throat and you all followed him in the dinning room. It was then that you truly took in the beauty of the house. You had been too nervous about meeting his family when walking in.

The room was breathtaking. A long mahogany table was lined with emerald tuffed chaired and heavy gold curtains over the windows. The wooden floor gleamed and you noticed that your feet were the only ones making any noise as you sat down.

“Hello master Jason. It’s nice to see you here again. And you must be y/n. I’m glad he finally brought you around,” Alfred said quietly, shaking your hand. “Excuse me, I must serve dinner.”

A lovely smelling soup was placed before you all and water and wine was served. You watched as everyone ate. Bruce ate casually while Dick animatedly told a story. Another brother, Tim, shook your hand across the table before eating and typing away on his phone. Jason stared at Damian while eating and the teen glared back. You put your hand on Jason’s knee and he seemed to relax a little.

“I need to speak you, Jason, about work after dinner,” Bruce said casually. All of Jason’s tension came back.

“Not today,” he said. “We can talk later.”

“Well it’s quite important WE business,” Bruce said and everyone at the table watched the two closely.

“Is that why we came over? For you to talk business?” Jason said. He almost had a grimace on his face.

“Of course not. We wanted to meet your girlfriend,” Dick interjected. Jason ignored him.

Bruce finally spoke. “He’s right. We can talk about it later. Tell us more about yourself, y/n.”

“Oh, uh...” you said quite put on the spot. “I’m a photographer.”

“You should have brought your camera. The courtyard can be very pretty in the evening,” Bruce said. “Do you work for a newspaper?”

“Of course she doesn’t,” Jason scoffed.

“I don’t. I mainly take portraits but I have been taking urban photos lately,” you said. “Like the effects of urban areas. I mean-“ you felt a loss of words to describe what you meant.

“She takes photos of the worst parts of Gotham to expose the poverty. That’s where we met. I don’t really let her go alone anymore,” he said with the smallest hint of a smile. “It’s pretty damn dangerous.”

“I’ve been fine,” you insisted and Jason thought back on the multiple shady characters he’s had to beat for you to get your shots without knowing what he was doing. “But I’m putting together a piece for South Gotham Gallery. A few more shots and it will be complete.”

“I’ve heard certain areas can be very dangerous,” Dick commented. “I would be very careful. Especially with a camera.”

“Yeah, like the East End,” Tim said.

“I grew up there,” you admitted with a laugh. “Stay away from Crime Alley and you’re probably okay. During the day.”

“It’s unwise to visit at all. Crime has risen 11 percent in the past 3 years,” Damian said. Alfred served a salad next.

“And unemployment by over 15 percent in the Bowery. That’s why I’m doing my piece. Poverty and crime is caused by wealth,” you said frankly before realizing that you just said that to a bunch of billionaires. Jason stifled a snicker.

[[MORE]]

“I suppose so,” Bruce said slowly. Jesus, you had just insulted your boyfriend’s adoptive father.

“Sorry,” you said quietly looking at your salad.

“It’s fine. It’s true,” Jason said with a shrug.

“So do you two live together,” Dick asked, changing the subject.

“You’re saying that crime is caused by wealth? Can you explain,” Damian said. Jason almost crushed the stem of his wine glass.

“I just mean, Gotham’s rich have gotten richer and the poor poorer and the ones with the money can control that,” you said delicately.

“So the rich can prevent poverty? All poverty?” Damian asked. And to the 13 year old’s credit, he just seemed to be curious. He could clearly feel the tension he was creating but didn’t actually care as he wanted answers.

“Paying people enough to live, healthcare for all, rehabilitation services that actually rehab, good education. All will help prevent crime and poverty. Many studies have shown this,” you said and you wanted to remain impartial but your voice betrayed your passion for the subject.

“We donate and run many foundations that support most of those things. Right father?” Damian asked. You sighed but kept silent. Throwing money doesn’t solve a problem.

Bruce cleared his throat. “Yes.”

“Drop it Damian,” Tim said. He roughly stabbed at his salad.

“I just want to know how she could possibly know what the rich do if she has always been poor.”

Jason crushed the stem at this point. “Shit,” you said quickly wrapping his bleeding hand in a handkerchief from the table. He looked close to exploding.

“Don’t forget that she’s not the only poor kid at the table. I grew up on the streets and moved here. Rich people are shit,” Jason said. He started standing and Damian watched him with a glint in his eyes. He was ready to fight too.

“Sit down, Jason,” Bruce commanded. “He’s just a curious boy.”

“Not surprising. He gets it from his old man. Disregard for anyone else,” Jason all but growled. Tonight was only the tip of the iceberg. You put a hand on his forearm. The last thing you wanted was a fight.

“You’re angry,” Bruce said quietly. He swallowed harshly. “Sit down.”

“I’m a grown man,” Jason said scoffing.

“Not acting like that,” Bruce said. Jason’s hands twitched towards his gun on his hip but he resisted the urge.

“Come on. Let’s get out of here. Alfred, food was great. Fuck you, Bruce,” Jason said grabbing your hand.

“Don’t leave,” Dick called as Jason pulled you down the hall. He didn’t go towards the front door but downstairs to a garage. There was probably 20 cars. Many of them were cars you had never seen in person.

“You wanna go for a drive?” He asked and you felt a thrill.

“One of these?” You asked.

“Nope,” Jason said pressing a code into a computer. A hidden garage door opened to expose a very conspicuous vehicle. The batmobile. You’d definitely never seen that car in real life.

“Seriously? Won’t he get mad?” You asked a little shocked.

“Fucking furious. We’re just going to get something to eat,” Jason said grabbing the key and unlocking it.

“Ugh... what the hell? Why not? Yeah,” you finally said. You knew the value of not missing a ride in the freaking batmobile. He grinned and opened the door for you. You climbed in and noticed a billion buttons. As Jason started the car, a string of lights pulsed on before the car showed multiple sensors. Jason pressed a few buttons before shifting the gear and driving out of the garage. The front gate automatically opened and he started putting on some speed once the car hit the road.

It felt like he was driving 50 when the speedometer was showing a cool 120. Your heart beat quickly in fear and excitement. Jason slowed down to 70 and grasped your hand. You could see tiny little cuts on his hand from the glass he crushed earlier.

“Is your hand okay?” You asked looking it over.

“It’s fine. Doesn’t hurt at all. Let’s get some food. I know a spot. But you’ll have to wear this,” he said pulling out a small black mask to cover your eyes. He took his own. “Can’t exactly drive the batmobile and show our face.”

The spot he knew was a tiny little taco truck strung with Christmas lights and a white board advertising “elotes con chile y limon.” It was on an empty corner lot in a not so great area of Gotham. It was extremely conspicuous as the pair of you got out of the car. Most people watched but as they thought they were watching freaking Batman order tacos, they didn’t say or do anything.

“Hello,” said the truck owner nervously. “Would you like something to eat? Elotes? Carnitas?”

“Yeah, 6 carnita tacos with cilantro and lime. A Mexican coke. 2 orders of sopapillas. What do you want?”

“That’s all for you?” You laughed always amazed at the amount he could eat. It made sense with all the energy he used but still. “Same but just 2 tacos and and a coke.”

Jason wrapped an arm around you waist and swayed slightly to the Mexican music playing in the truck. People started to get used to you both being there. Maybe Batman just wanted some tacos?

After receiving a plastic take out bag with foil wrapped tacos, a sign of good tacos, you both climbed back in the car. The masks were haphazardly tossed on the dash. Jason drove you both back the way you came and you wondered if you were going back to the manor when, no he was taking you to a quiet rest stop outside the city. You ate the tacos and sopapillas on the hood of the car. You watched as Jason added way to much spicy green chile sauce to his tacos.

“Want some?”

“I choose life but thank you,” you said. You giggled as he cleared his throat and gulped down his coke. But to his credit, he ate it. Maybe he just enjoyed pain? “Now what?” You asked watching the stars. They weren’t visible in the city.

Instead of answering, Jason pulled you close. Your back against his chest and he wrapped his arms around you. You held his hands and looked at the little scars that littered his skin. Always fighting. Jason bent to kiss your neck.

“Wanna be really bad,” he asked with audacity that you knew meant something interesting. You leaned into him more.

“What do you mean?” You purred. Dating a guy like Jason Todd, you weren’t exactly new to taking some risks.

“Let’s fuck. Right. Here,” he said and with every word he slowly spoke in a husky voice, he pushed his hips against you and you knew exactly what he wanted. You went to turn in his arms but he moved quicker and you were quickly bent over the car with a gasp. He pulled off his jacket and threw it on the hood. Little did you know but he was covering the camera.

Jason’s hand ran along your back and you shivered as your skin pressed against the hard metal. He kissed the back of your neck and kneaded the flesh on your hips and he ground his hard on against you. “Fuck you’re pretty. And letting fucking Bruce know what you think of the rich. That was hot as shit. I’ve been wanting to do this for months.”

“This was on your bucket list,” you asked grinding your hips back against him. “To bend me over the batmobile and fuck me?”

“Jesus,” he said before pulling down your jeans and panties in one push. You shivered at the cold air touched your ass. “Your fucking mouth, Princess. I love it.”

You weren’t cold for very long because after a few seconds of rustling with a belt and zipper, you felt Jason press against your ass. He rubbed his cock through your folds a few times before pulling away. You turned to whine only to see him rolling on a condom. He sunk into you without ceremony. His fingers roughly held your hips as he thrust into you.

You moaned and the echo reminded you that you were outside. Anyone could come up on the pair of you fucking on the goddamn Batmobile. It made you moan even louder. He rubbed his hand up and down your spine before sliding down to the front of your body to rub your clit. It didn’t take long for you to grip him tighter.

“Fuck, Princess, are you close?” He moaned in your ear. His thrusts were rough and deep and his fingers moved quickly over your clit.

“Yeah, oh shit, yeah,” you moaned. “Jay,” you whined when he readjusted his hand.

“I got you. Let go, Princess,” he purred in your ear. You reached a hand up and grabbed his hair. You pulled him close and moaned his name on repeat as you came. He grunted and a few more thrusts found his release. Jason pulled out and pulled up your pants with a pat on your ass and took care of his condom.

“We probably need to get the car back before Bruce come looking for it,” he said grabbing his jacket. Jason gave you a long sweet kiss before getting back in the car.

“Does he have a tracking device in it,” you asked with sudden realization.

“Yeah but all we did was get some tacos and stopped to eat them,” Jason said with a wink. “He won’t care too much. Plus he’ll only be mad at me anyways. Don’t worry about it, Princess.”

You held his hand all the way back to the front drive of Wayne Manor. As soon as you were in his car, his phone lit up and before he put it away, it was a message from Tim. “Clean it before you bring it back. I don’t even want to know what happened and Bruce is ofc mad.😩”

You laughed a little and Jason went from grinning to laughing out loud. “At least we didn’t fuck in the car,” you said. He laughed some more.

“Maybe next time, baby,” he said with a wink before speeding out of the drive.

“Oh god. I wouldn’t do Alfred like that.”

“I knew I liked you for some reason. Let’s get home. It’s cold as balls out here and I’d like to spend some time with my hot as shit girlfriend before the other shoe drops,” Jason said taking your hand again.

“That’s a fan-fucking-tastic idea.”