#i drew you once in art class

[codacheetah]

I remembered that drawing is fun and awesome and I'm deeply tempted to crawl out of bed and go draw something else but it's 4am

[babygirlificationn]

Gay people.

Did a little doodle about this in class before drawing it in digital but its so. charmingly silly im obsessed with it. He just wants to order.

[highonarttm]

Small Souma and Adonis doodle

[todayisafridaynight]

Okay this is going to be an off ask if I ask it anywhere, but have you ever drawn Megaman… who am kidding of course you have. It’s just your style is perfect for megaman 💙💙💙

I HAAAVE I USED TO DRAW MEGAMAN SO MUCH if you looked at all my highschool class notes its JUST megaman drawings

[eddiethebrave]

secret admirer part eighteen

767 words

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Steve isn’t sure what to do. He knows what he wants to do. He wants to stuff Eddie’s locker full with every thought he’s had in the past week and a half without an outlet. But would he be receptive to that?

By practice the next morning he’s decided that he’ll give it a try and then see if Eddie’s still wearing the ring.

He figures the boy isn’t ready to talk about it face-to-face yet, given he brought out the ring instead of simply talking to him. Then he had the gall to ask Steve if he was okay.

No. He’s really not.

Eddie you talk with your hands a lot it’s hypnotizing it was one of the first things i noticed about you at the beginning of the year i never knew what you were saying from so far away  but i felt like i was in on the conversation just from that and i never feel like that, so thank you p.s. i’ve missed talking to you well, not talking, but you know p.s.s. i could definitely say more but i don’t wanna bombard you  so we’ll save all that for later thank you for giving me another chance

Steve is nervous walking into the lunch room. For the first time since he switched, he takes his usual seat on the side of the table where Eddie is in his line of sight. 

Steve was worried that he would have changed his mind and taken the ring off, but there it is on his right hand. 

Steve actually engages in conversation with Tommy and Carol for the rest of lunch so Eddie doesn’t see him staring, even if he feels a little better about it now that Eddie knows who he is and is still wearing the ring. 

Out of the corner of his eye, though, he catches sight of Eddie talking animatedly to his friends, arms waving this way and that, perhaps a bit more than usual and Steve has to tamp down a smile. 

They don’t talk in class until the bell rings and Steve realizes Eddie didn’t say where they were meeting after class today. 

He must have forgotten all about it because he goes to stand up and Steve has to catch him by the wrist before he makes his escape. Eddie jerks back out of instinct and shoots him a questioning look. Steve busies himself with packing his bag to avoid eye contact. “Wanna meet at Benny’s? On me?” he asks tentatively.

Eddie bats his lashes. “Steve Harrington wants to buy little ol’ me a milkshake from Benny’s Burgers? Oh my,” he says breathily, fanning himself.

Despite him raising the pitch of his voice several octaves to sound more feminine, Steve’s face still burns. Oh god. 

Steve rolls his eyes and swings his backpack over his shoulder. “Is that a yes?”

Eddie nods, pulling a piece of his hair over his face and as cute as the whole blushing maiden act is, Steve has to resist reaching out to tuck the hair back in place so he can see his smile. 

He bites his lip and backs away. “See you there, Munson.”

“Yup, see you there, Harrington.”

— — — — 

They don’t talk much once they get going on their projects. Eddie, of course, attempts multiple times to catch sight of Steve’s portrait. 

He even goes as far as to sneak up on him on his way back from the bathroom, not thinking Steve would be anticipating the act. Steve had pulled a blank piece of paper out of his bag and placed it over his actual project. On the paper, he drew a stick figure with Eddie’s haircut and huge eyes. Remembering how much Eddie had seemed to like Steve’s more unsettling attempts at art, Steve made the eyes as realistic as he could manage while the rest of the thing looked like a child had drawn it in a hurry. 

Steve didn’t even know Eddie had come out of the bathroom until he heard laughing and wheezing coming from behind him. 

He didn’t turn around. He simply sipped his strawberry milkshake until Eddie fell into his seat once he’d calmed down. The boy pouted for all of two seconds before breaking out into a smile and commending Steve’s foresight. 

Once they pack up and Steve pays the bill, they make their way outside and he pulls out the prank drawing. 

“Here,” he says, holding it out to Eddie. 

“For me?” The smile he gets in return is beaming.

Steve rides that high well into the next day.

nineteen

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sorry if i missed anyone!!

[rosenclaws]

Hi! 👋

I saw your requests were open and I was wondering if I could submit a request?

The reader is a shy artist who is a friend of Wades. She carries a sketchbook with her everywhere to sketch new pieces, but she doesn't show her work to people unless it's to Wade.

She and Worst!Logan become friends and slowly develop feelings for one another, but they won't say anything to each other because they think that the other wouldn't want them. Until Worst!Logan finds her sketchbook by accident and finds the book is filled with sketches of him. Worst!Logan confronts her about it, but she's a stuttering mess, and they end up confessing to each other. And please make it extra fluffy. Maybe throw in a kiss or a makeout session. Your choice lol.

Thank you and have a good day! 😊

Hidden Feelings and Hidden Sketches || Worst!Logan Howlett x Reader

warnings: drinking, swearing, wade making suggestive comments, make out sesh towards the end, reader gets drunk and logan helps her out. Logan also calls the reader sketch. It got kinda suggestive at the end I apologize sldfjka

a/n: Hi!! This idea is adorable omg I love it, I hope it was fluffy enough for you I have to admit I'm not great at writing pure fluff. I also hope wade is funny because I am not funny so its hard to write his dialogue sometimes. I also altered the plot a little so i hope its okay

You never quite understood how you and Wade became friends. He was possibly the biggest extrovert you have ever met and you were the exact opposite. He saw you once at his favorite diner with your sketchbook and he jumped into the seat across from you.

Yapping on about your art and if you drew often and that he once tried to paint but the class didn't appreciate his art and asking if you'd paint him naked as a present for his girlfriend. Which you declined very quickly.

He wouldn't leave you alone, talking and asking you all sorts of things. You getting a few words in and him covering the other 98% of the conversation. He left with the promise of seeing you again and disappeared before you could say anything else.

It was an odd experience that's for sure but you liked Wade. Sure enough he kept coming back and a friendship had blossomed. He invited you over to dinner multiple times but you always declined, choosing to meet at the diner instead.

Slowly he got you out of your shell around him. Cracking jokes and sometimes putting him in his place when he went a little too far. You showed him your sketchbook after a while and he gushed over your drawings. Begging you to draw him at his best angles and you would sometimes give in.

When he disappeared for a while you got worried, that is until he showed up with a new dog and a very handsome new friend. You couldn't take your eyes off of him. Wade spotted you and waved but you didn't even notice.

"I know right, he's like a tall glass of rage filled water." Wade sighs as he sits across from you.

"I uh what?" You hug your sketchbook close to your chest as you rip your eyes away from Wade's new friend.

"Oh don't pretend like you weren't eye fucking him the second he walked in here, not that I blame you." Your eyes widen as you start to stutter. Your face heating up as you stare at the pancakes in front of you instead. A loud grunt catches your attention. You can barely meet his eyes as your brain is too busy being embarrassed by what Wade had said.

"You can sit on my lap angel cakes." Wade pats his leg but gets shoved to the side as his new friend sits down across from you.

"Logan this is my friend, be a good kitty and play nice." Logan rolls his eyes and chooses to ignore Wade. He does look at you though, burning a whole through your skull.

"Hi Logan," You say shyly.

"Hi." A few beats of silence pass until Wade breaks it as usual.

"Well aren't you two the life of the party, if you excuse me I have to go relieve myself." Wade stands up and instead of asking Logan to move, starts to climb over the man.

"What the fuck?!" Logan hisses as he grabs Wades shirt and tosses him to the ground. You can't help the laugh that escapes your mouth as your friend flops to the ground.

"So rude." Wade shakes his head and heads off to the bathroom. Silence falls once again as you awkwardly push around the pancakes on your plate.

"What's that?" Logan asks, nodding towards your sketchbook. You grab your book and shove it into your bag.

"Nothing! It's uh, just a sketchbook it's nothing don't worry about it." Logan raises an eyebrow as you panic in front of him.

As if you couldn't feel more embarrassed. You debate on waiting for wade or just leaving to save yourself but Logan makes the choice for you.

"You don't have to stay, not holding you hostage." He sips his coffee as you let out a shaky laugh.

"Not much of a talker." You play with your fork as you look up at Logan. He's much more handsome up close.

"Neither am I." He offers a small half smile and you return it. He's still incredibly intimidating but maybe you can stick it out a little longer. Logan's food comes and the two of you eat in a comfortable silence and when you're done you work up the courage if he'll be here tomorrow. He holds the door open for you as you step outside.

You clutch tightly onto the strap of your bag as you wait for his answer. He lights a cigar and you try and suppress your smile when he says he will be. As you part ways you realize that Wade never did come back from the bathroom.

That sneaky bastard.

-on

The diner uh, meetings as you called them, with Logan were amazing. His grumpy exterior was hard to crack but eventually the two of you started to become friends. Being with Logan started to become your favorite parts of the week. He was more than the tough guy persona he put on. What surprised you the most is that he seemed interested in you too. Well you know as friends.

Logan could appreciate someone who liked the quiet. He never pushed you out of your comfort zone, never made you feel uncomfortable. He was just Logan. Call it what you want but it was only a matter of time before you fell head over heels for that man. Not that you'd ever tell him.

How could you?

He's a superhero. He's gorgeous and grumpy and funny and so much more. All you do is draw silly pictures. So for now you settle on friends. Even if he makes your stomach turn with ever smile. Even if his laugh is the best thing you've ever heard. Friends. That's good enough for now.

-

"Wade Wilson I am going to kill you!" You say angrily.

He had texted you asking you to meet him for coffee and you had agreed solely because you never got the chance to scold him for his little dine and dash.

"Leaving me alone with a stranger!" You slap his hand as he tries to reach for your pastry.

"Ow! That was so five months ago! Anyways I was just trying to help. You know, relieve the sexual tension." You gasp as he makes a very lewd gesture with his hands.

"Besides, you and Logi bear are spending a lot of time together for just being friends huh Boo-Boo." Before you can stop him he reaches for your sketchbook. Keeping it just out of reach as he flips through the pages.

"Give it back!" You plead as you reach across the table.

"Oh. My. God. How come you never draw me this sexy?" He shows you the pages and you fall back into your seat in defeat.

You know what's in there and now Wade does too. Pages and pages of sketches of Logan. You feel like a stalker. It's not your fault! Ever since you met him he's all you can think about. All you can draw.

"Please give it back." You beg but he refuses.

"You'll get it back after you admit to Logan how you feel."

"What!" Your jaw drops as you make another lunge for your book.

"I am a very impatient man and I'm not about to wait another thousand words for the two of you to fuck." He stands up and tucks the book down his pants.

"Ew really?" You groan as you let your face fall into your hands.

"I'm having a get together and you're invited. Logan will be there it's the perfect opportunity." You feel like throwing up at the idea of talking to Logan about any of this.

Maybe you could just steal it back tonight. Or maybe you could never show your face to anyone ever again. Yah the second option sounds better. If only it was that simple. You waited for many anxiety filled hours, the only thing on your mind is getting your damn book back. You knock on the door and it swings open with Wade standing there, a stupid smile on his face.

"Honey badger at 4 o'clock." He hands you a drink and pushes you right towards him. You shoo him away, taking a deep breath and head towards Logan.

"Hi Logan," You say nervously.

"Didn't think these were really your thing." He says with a smile. You laugh nervously and nod your head.

"Yeah well...I thought he'd finally stop asking if I came to one of these things." You joke. Logan snorts and offers you the seat next to him.

"Good luck with that." You sit next to him and swirl around the ice in your drink.

If you're going to tell him then you're going to need a lot of help. Logan's eyes widen as you down your drink in one go, making a face before asking for another one. He's never seen you at a party, let alone drink.

"Why don't you take it easy there sketch."

"It's a party right, why not have a little fun." Logan keeps an eye on you as you drink and drink. As the night passes on he realizes that you might have had a little too much. You can barely get a sentence out by the time the party's over.

"Hi Logii!" Your arms slink around his neck as you stumble into him.

"Come on, let me take you home." He chuckles as he helps you to the door.

"Nooo, I needa get my uh..." You stop and think for a moment.

"My uhhh" Logan hums as he helps you to your apartment. You stay close to Logan as you walk through the night. He's just so warm and he smells so good.

"Got your keys?" You pat around for them and frown. Logan reaches into your bag and pulls them out.

"Right here." He unlocks your door and helps you to your bed. You sigh as your head hits your pillow.

"Oh! my sketchbook. Wade has my sketchbook." You say with a yawn.

"I'll get it back tomorrow, now sleep well." Logan takes off his jacket and lays it on you. He brushes your cheek gently. A soft smile on his face as he leaves you to sleep peacefully.

"Good night."

-

God your head hurt and the sun was way too bright. You crack your eyes open groan as you head pounds. What were you even thinking last night? You wanted your damn book back that's what you were thinking. A loud knock on your door makes you moan in pain. Getting up you swing open your door only to be met with Logan holding your book. Your face pales as you see a smirk on his face.

"Wade gave me back your book." You reach out for it but he holds it back.

"You're a real good artist sketch." To your horror he opens up your book and flips to one of its pages.

Right in front of you was a side profile sketch of Logan. It had been while you were at the park or something. The sun was hitting him perfectly, he had this content look on his face. You couldn't help but draw it when you got back home. To capture him in a moment where everything felt okay.

"I uh..I.." You don't know what to say. He caught you red handed. Your face is on fire from shame and embarrassment as he finally hands over your book. You can't even look at him.

"I'm sorry." You whisper. Shutting your eyes you hope he gets the hint and leaves, leaves you to wallow in pity.

"Sorry? Why are you sorry." He grabs your chin and tilts your head up.

"I'm flattered sketch. I think you really captured me pretty good." You still can't bring yourself to say anything as you hug your book tightly. You can't tell if he's making fun of you or what.

"This isn't funny Logan." You try and push his hand off you but his grip is strong.

"Not trying to be funny." He brushes his thumb over your lips.

"Logan..." Your eyes flick down to his lips and you know he catches you.

"Say it, come on don't be shy. Not with me." Sighing you dig your fingernails into your book.

"I love you." Your voice is barely above a whisper, eyes squeezing shut. You almost hope he doesn't hear it but of course he does.

He presses his lips to yours roughly. You drop your book in shock as you melt deep into his kiss. Wasting no time in kissing him back, hands wrapping around his neck to pull him closer. He deepens the kiss as his hands fall to your sides. You pull away much to his disappointment, his lips chasing after yours for a moment.

"I love you too." He kisses your jaw lightly making you sigh.

"You know, those drawings were good but I think you got my lips wrong." You furrow you eyebrows, you thought you got his lips pretty good. After all you stared at them long enough to memorize them.

"Yeah sweetheart, think you need a lesson." He walks you back until you hit your couch.

"Get up close and personal." He winks as you bite your lip. How flustered can he make you?

"Then maybe you can show me more of those drawings."

Well, If it would help make your drawings more, accurate. Then who are you to say no?

"Okay." You run your hands along his arm as you look back up at him. Nerves and excitement swirling around your eyes.

"Don't worry sketch, I'm a pretty good teacher."

[hauntedhokage]

miscommunication

summary: Toge's been distant, you finally confront him to find out why

word count: 2.5k

warnings: explicit sexual content (minors dni), emotional conflict, Inumaki uses his cursed speech

note: for my beloved @silverrings-n-prettythings who drew some inspirational Inumaki art. Ily bbygirl

It felt like with every day that passed, he’d become more distant. Late nights that were once spent talking about the future, kisses exchanged between soft touches and other intimate gestures that replaced the words that he couldn’t use himself, turned into nights spent apart with you going to bed alone and waking up with cold sheets and a note. Did he love you anymore? You weren’t sure, and that uncertainty hurts more. The anxiety that came with waiting for that shoe to drop - waiting for the note written in his messy handwriting that tells you that he didn’t love you and wanted to separate. 

What would you do if it came to that? A life without him didn’t feel like something that you could do, considering the way he’d steadily been a constant in your life over the past year. Nobody made tea the way he did, or knew exactly how to scratch the itch at the base of your scalp when it was bothering you. Squeezes of your hand in his when you were feeling anxious, how it felt to be wrapped around him after a particularly rough mission - the despair you felt when he left, and the relief when he returned. 

These things all became constants, things you’d come to expect like the sun rising in the east and setting in the west. Your sunrise was Inumaki Toge; morning, afternoon, midday and the evenings - but you’re worried that the sun was beginning to set on your relationship. You didn’t think it was fair for him to just distance himself, not even try to talk to you about what was bothering him that he’d feel the need to do this to you. Even with his limited verbal communication ability, you’d spend hours on the couch texting back and forth or learning sign language to develop something that was more efficient than texting and note writing. 

Tonight was worse than any other night, only because you’d had plans. Plans made in advance; plans to stay in and have a nice dinner, play some silly board and card games, and then cuddle up for a movie or two. Plans that he was now two hours late for, plans that had you sitting at a dinner table with two plates of a dinner that was a blend of his and your favorite dishes. Dinner that was now about as cold as you’re Toge felt about you, dinner that had you crying as you stood to pick up the plates that clearly wouldn’t be touched tonight. To punish yourself; you’d probably eat the leftovers for a couple days, reminding yourself that Toge would rather do anything but share a meal with you. 

The front door opening has you slamming the fridge shut, and you’re making eye contact with your boyfriend as he takes his shoes off. Your obvious emotional state has him immediately concerned, closing in on you to try and assess the situation until your hands smack him away to put some space between you both. 

“You don’t get to pretend to care after missing game night for the third week in a row.” Your statement has his eyes widening, phone coming out of his pocket while his other hand pulls his collar down. “Don’t even bother, Toge, I get it. You don’t love me anymore and you’re tired of pretending, so you don’t have to pretend anymore! And to think I started taking sign language classes just for you to…”

You turn away as his fingers start to rapidly tap against the screen, needing to clean up the table and finish cleaning the kitchen. The whole time, though, you can’t stop talking at him. Telling him that you know he thinks you’re more of a burden because you don’t have any cool talents like his, that you must be overbearing since you like to know his schedule, how awful you most be to be around that he never wants to be home when you are or spend time with you. Those kinds of things that you’re not even sure where it all had been bottled up but you do hear his frantic tapping behind you as he tries to respond only to have to pause, backspace a bunch, and type some more. 

You catch him gesturing, frantic “tuna, tuna” leaving him while he tries to show you his screen, but you keep your gaze fixed on the task before you because you fear that if you look at him you’ll start crying. You didn’t want to cry when you were trying to yell at him for putting off breaking up with you, that would make you look more pathetic to him than you’re sure you already did.

“Please stop.” 

Two words uttered so softly yet full of desperation have you freezing, though you’re sure even without the cursed speech you’d be frozen at the sound of Toge’s using words that weren’t his usual safe words. You’re afraid to even look at him, but you face that fear as you turn to face him and the phone extended towards you with a screen full of words intended for you to read. 

“Toge?”

“Please,” he whispers again, angling the phone towards you in a silent plea for you to take it and let him defend himself. You do; your fingers grazing against his as you take the device into you hand with your thumb tapping the screen out of habit to keep the screen awake. 

I love you so much. 

I’m so afraid that I’ll let something slip and hurt you by accident so I’ve been trying to stay away while figuring out words that can be safe for us to use together. 

Didn’t know that my distance would hurt you

I’m so sorry

“Toge,” you whisper, nearly dropping his phone in your rush to pull him into your arms. Tears burn at your eyes while you feel his dampen the skin of your neck, his arms tight around your waist to keep you pressed flush against him - as if you could be apart from him after this. “Don’t you ever try to hide from me again.”

“Salmon,” is mumbled into your neck, and you give your own nod before you pull back to kiss his cheek.  A kiss to your cheek becomes a kiss on your lips, Toge’s mouth carefully coaxing yours open to allow him the opportunity to deepen the kiss. You feel small shockwaves along your tongue as it brushes against his, the sensation caused by his cursed markings sorely missed by you in the period of distance he’d forced between you now a source of comfort and a reminder that he was with you again and just as desperate for your touch as you were for his with the way his mouth worked against yours. Your back hits something sturdy, you think it’s probably the fridge but don’t have time to think too much about it because Toge is bringing your leg up to rest on his hip to press the growing tent in his pants to your core in search of friction that would bring pleasure to you both. 

“T-Tore,” you breathe when he pulls back, watching as his eyes search the space beside your head for something while keeping himself pressed against you. When he finds it, he’s reaching for it, and you recognize that it’s one of the magnet strips with pre printed statements on it that he’d been searching for. This one had been originally something unimportant to your life with Toge, so you’d used a label maker to make it something that would have real purpose in your home.

Would you like to fuck? Stares at you in bold black font, the smiley face after bringing a smile to your own face as you take the magnet from him to slap on the fridge above your head before you’re kissing him again. It’s not a kiss that lasts long before he’s pulling away, slowly lowering himself to his knees before you and pulling at your pants and underwear as he goes. 

He only bothers to free one of your legs from its confinement, bringing it to rest over his shoulder so he could be close to your core, his eyes closing as he takes a deep inhale of your scent. It was clear that he’d missed you just as much as you’d been missing him, the pure relief that you see in his relaxing features bringing a new wave of calm through your body. He was here, he was happy, any doubt that may have lingered regarding whether or not he wanted to be with you is calmed in this moment - only to be replaced with the sparks that come with the feeling of his tongue against your clit. With the way his cursed markings seemed to vibrate against your skin, it’s like you feel him in your skin in all the best ways while his fingers carefully probe your wet slit. 

“Toge,” you whine, your hand in his hair while your other hand grips the handle of the refrigerator door. “Please, no marathons.”

That earns you a displeased grunt against your clit, but he had to understand that his forced distance was the reason why you needed him to go easy on you. But you continue to stare at him, eyes locked on his own as you push his hair back away from his forehead until he gives a more affirmative grunt with a nod that would serve as his agreement that he would not intentionally seek to overstimulate you like he typically enjoyed doing. 

Two of his slender fingers ease into your cunt, the wet sound so loud in your ears but drowned out by the loud groan Toge let out when he got a taste of how wet you were already. His tongue moves eagerly around your clit, the cursed appendage rolling around the sensitive bud in tight circles while his lips maintain a tight suction that keeps you clenching around his fingers as they fuck you. You’re not sure what is louder; your moans of pleasure, Toge’s moans and groans of delight, or the sinful squelching of your wet pussy being attacked from the inside and outside by your attentive lover’s hand and mouth. His eyes open, the look he gives you full of pure adoration as he opens his mouth to press the pulsing flat of his tongue against your clit as his fingers continue their fast strokes inside your cunt. 

“Cum for me,” is mumbled against your clit, the command forcing your eyes closed as your body tightens up around him while he does his best to keep you upright and prevent injury. Your pleasured cry is music to his ears as his tongue laps at your throbbing clit to try and keep you on the edge of overstimulation. You said no marathon, you didn’t say he couldn’t use his cursed speech and that loophole was an unfair advantage you’d truly scold him for later. 

“You’re cheating,” you scold; voice nothing more than a whisper as you push his head away from your core, pouting down at him as he grins, his free hand massaging your thigh that rest on his shoulder as he brings his fingers to his mouth. Your leg is carefully removed from his shoulder, and he’s carefully pulling you down to the floor to sit with him. There’s a delightful awkwardness in trying to get each other undressed while sitting on the kitchen floor, and it all reaches its intended outcome when Toge is carefully lying you back against the cold tile of the kitchen floor. Your feeble attempt at an offer to reciprocate the oral pleasure you’d received is met with a shake of his head as he settles between your spread legs, his fingers trailing along your slit before you feel the blunt tip of his cock trying to make its entrance. 

Your hands settle on his chest as he kisses you, his length working its way into your neglected pussy. You feel his groan rattle his chest, the sound reverberating through your mouth with the additional hum of his cursed energy overwhelming your senses. He’s all that matters to you at this moment, the slow grind of his hips into yours to keep close as he savors this reunion. His pace is slow, hard strokes pressing deep into your core and sending waves of pleasure along your spine as your hands move to clasp at the back of his neck. 

“I missed you,” you whisper, a statement that has him frowning, an apology in his eyes that has you regretting your honesty only momentarily before he’s smiling again as he shakes his head. Everything was going to be okay, you know that and trust in that. He sits up slightly, his hands taking your thighs in his hands and pushing them back towards your chest to allow for closer contact. He’s checking only momentarily to make sure you’re okay, the nod on your end allowing him to continue with his forceful thrusts. 

“T-Toge,” you gasp, the deeper angle forcing the wind out of you as he rests his forehead against yours. The only sound that follows is the sound of skin on skin with his hard thrusts, the primary soundtrack to your lovemaking as his mouth leaves yours in face of kissing along your face down to your neck to that spot that made you squirm as you feel yourself approaching the cusp of your orgasm. He knows you’re close, the pace of his strokes slowing down to try and force you to hold out for him. He wouldn’t dare tell you to wait, and you’re relieved when he whispers in your ear for you to cum for him. The cry that leaves you has him smiling against your cheek, his own groans flooding your ears as he finds his own release inside your pussy. 

He finally pulls out, moving to lay on his side beside you and gently stroking your cheek as he smiles at you before poking your nose and getting a giggle out of you that has him chuckling. In return, you reach out to poke his nose, which results in a poke competition as you’re both laughing until your arm gets tired. Your eyes close, relief washing over your system at the fact that you still had Toge, he still loved you and wanted to be with you, but his need to protect you from himself had him doing something stupid and not communicating his fears. That would need to be discussed when you weren’t naked on the kitchen floor.

There’s a gentle nudge to your side, and your eyes open to see Toge sitting up and looking down at you with a fond smile while nudging you with his knee. There’s a head nod towards the hallway that led to your bedroom, you know he’s trying to get you either to the bedroom to rest on a more comfortable surface than the kitchen tile. 

“Get into bed.”

“You’re a menace!” And you’re standing, Toge taking your hand in his own so he could walk with you to the bedroom. 

[cottonlemonade]

hii! may i please order a medium pineapple lemonade with extra ice for suna? your work is always so wonderful 🥹🌸

Accidental Confession

word count: 1317 || avg. reading time: 6 mins.

pairing: rival!Suna x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff with some suggestiveness, enemies to lovers

warnings: mdni

request: fluffy-spicy accidental confession with rival Suna

It all started with a meme. If Suna hadn’t taken that picture of you stretching during class and added a little Simba into your hands, you wouldn’t have photoshopped his face onto a mop.

To be fair, his was harmless. Yours was downright rude and so he fell in love immediately.

He followed you around - not as inconspicuously as he might have hoped - to sneak a photo in the most meme worthy moments, flooding his camera roll with dozens and eventually hundreds of snapshots of you. The whole front of a silly little meme war was a great excuse to mask his steadily growing crush and his friends didn’t think anything of it when Suna set a picture of you mid-sneeze as his lock screen. Granted, he himself was still very much in denial about his feelings as well, so it wasn’t that difficult to pretend that he wasn’t bothered when you talked to an upperclassman and laughed loudly at his, undoubtedly, mediocre joke - although Suna did sweep his pencil case off his desk in an attempt to wave Osamu off when he asked if he was okay.

The class groaned when the teacher announced that for the impending field trip they’d be split into teams of two via random lottery. Half the students got assigned a number while the other half drew a little piece of paper from a box held out to them to match with said number. Quiet cheers and not so quiet disappointment could be heard and the teacher called for silence.

Annoyed that he didn’t even get the minuscule chance to work with him, Suna leaned over to Osamu, “Who do you have?” His friend unfolded his paper and turned it over to read.

“5. That’s…”, he craned his neck to check and count, “Y/n, ya?”

“Switch with me.”, Suna said.

“Why? Who do ya have?”

“Don’t care. Come on.”

Osamu frowned and raised an almost disappointed brow.

“What happened to ya, dude? Ya know, yer bein’ real obvious at this point, right?”

Suna rejected the allegations, waited a moment, then simply exchanged his slip of paper with Osamu’s.

“Ya owe me.”, Osamu noted.

“Yeah yeah.”

Meanwhile, you seemed less thrilled about the match and when the bell rang you threw an annoyed look at Suna who gave you a blank stared wave and went to lunch with your friends. He was a very unfortunate long-term crush you had nursed since the beginning of the year and was as handsome as he was annoying. In spite of this, you had a great time complaining about your matched partners over your bentos while enjoying the mellowing summer sun under the shade of a tree.

When the next morning arrived, Suna made sure to be only two minutes late instead of his usual 15, so he could secure the spot next to you on the long drive to Kobe. The class would be headed to the big art museum in the city and as an assignment got a list of 15 art pieces they had to find, like a scavenger hunt. The first team to get a picture from each of their art works would get to choose where to go for lunch.

With a sigh you dropped in the seat next to him, frowning at his sleepy grin. When you only scoffed and looked away, his heart started pounding and he had no idea why. And this wasn‘t a “oh Suna, you‘re just in love, silly“ kinda pounding. No! This was more similar to that one time when he went out for coffee with his friends and instead of admitting that he wanted his favorite - a sickeningly sweet vanilla latte with extra syrup pumps - he ordered an iced Americano with a triple shot because he thought it sounded cool and for hours it had felt as if a tiny panicked bird was trapped in his chest. In short, he concluded, you were not good for his health.

“Alright.”, you said once you turned to him. You stood in the entrance together with the rest of the class, holding the reference paper in hand listing the artwork, “I’ll take the top 8, you take the bottom 7.”

He bit back a comment about how there was nothing “bottom” about him, but one look from you and he was quiet. That icy stare of disdain made him want to do the cooking and the cleaning and ask how your day had been while he finished up the ironing. “Let’s do this.”, he replied and nearly whimpered when you rolled your eyes at him.

With some quick online searching, the artwork was quickly found and the pictures taken. To keep up appearances he snapped a few pics in between of the NPCs in baroque paintings with increasingly weird facial expressions, fully intending to ask, “This you?” the next time he saw you. He could also airdrop them during class and looked forward to receiving a less than flattering emoji or thumbs down.

But now he had a different objective. Excited at the prospect of finally having an excuse to get your number, he jogged through the museum to your previously agreed upon meeting spot, finding you seated and waiting for him on a bench. You were scribbling on a notepad precariously balanced on your knees. He snuck up behind you, leaned in close to your ear and in a low calm voice went, “Boo.”

The yelp you let out had museum goers turn to you and a man with a lanyard, who was guiding a tour, threw an exasperated sigh in your direction.

“You better sleep with one eye open.”, you pressed out through gritted teeth, a deep red tint on your cheeks.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”, he said simply and in one smooth movement sat down next to you.

“So, how do you wanna do this?”, he then asked casually, waiting for you to say the words.

“Just airdrop them to me.”, you frowned.

“Oh.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Luckily his deflated shoulders were masked by his chronically bad posture and he quickly selected the necessary pictures.

Your phone gave a little buzz and you accepted the stack. “That’s all. You’re excused. Go off and do… whatever it is you’re doing.”

“I can stay and help, you know? I skimmed some of the plackets.”

“What great work ethic.”, you deadpanned but moved your notepad closer to him so he could see.

With your other hand you swiped through the photos, double checking if you had everything.

He was too busy catching a whiff of your shampoo to notice you furrowing your brow.

“Uhm, Suna.”

You turned your phone screen to him and the blood drained from his face.

It was a picture of you - of course, what else could it have been. You were absently staring out the window in the classroom, your hair a little messy from a regular day of fending for your life in high school. Your chin rested on your palm and the sun shone beautifully against your face. He knew the picture well, because just last night when he couldn’t sleep, he edited it. Black and white hearts bordered the snapshot, a slightly blurry filter gave it a dreamlike feel. He gagged when he saw just how mushy he must have felt to add words around your head. Pookie. Baddie. Loml. My Bbg.

“What kind of prank is this?”, you asked, suspicion clinging to every syllable.

Suna thought.

Telling you that this picture was born out of post-nut hormones would only lead to a somewhat compromising confession that he fondled and humped his body pillow thinking of you, having no problem at all imagining your so very tempting love handles spilling between his fingers.

“Would you believe me if I told you my dog took my phone?“

You stared at him for a moment, then broke into giggles.

a/n: thank you so much for continuing to participate in my events! I’m so happy when someone comes back for more 🥺 I hope you enjoyed this one! 🌟

And once again thank you to @haikyu-mp4 for letting me surf her brain through the storm ✨

[kelluinox]

I just want to understand how westerners who never experienced war, who don't have anyone they know affected by war, have the audacity to sit in their ivory towers and pontificate about war. It's truly mind boggling. These pampered, privileged, spoiled little kids sitting on social media, treating wars in which real people are dying like they're a particularly interesting Netflix show, drawing anime characters with the colors of terrorist regimes.

I have family in Odesa. Practically every summer of my childhood I spent in Odesa. I went to the beaches. I stayed at my aunt's apartment. Walked around the city with my cousin. Odesa is beautiful. And I watched it be bombed by Russians with no ability to stop my terrorist government from doing so. I received text messages from my cousin, saying, "we have fireworks tonight" and nearly lost my mind every time I heard of new bombing. I didn't know if the next day I would be hearing of my relatives being trapped under rubble. I had nightmares over what the Russians did and are doing in Ukraine. Bucha still haunts my thoughts. All of this slaughter is being done by my government and I have no ability to stop it. And Russian society supports it. You know, those screaming about innocent civilians show only one thing - they don't understand the first thing about fascist societies. The innocent civilians of Russia celebrated the annexation of Crimea. They stuck Z symbols to their cars and hung st George ribbons on their clothes to support the invasion. They got their kids to record their anti war teachers to get them fired or even imprisoned. They dress up their kids in military style clothes and they invite terrorists to speak in front of class about 'patriotism'. An innocent civilian art class teacher reported a girl who drew an anti war picture in class to the innocent civilian school principal. The principal called the police. The girl was put into solitary confinement until her mother agreed to take her. Her father was kidnapped and secretly put in prison.

Some other absolutely ignorant claims I've heard are ones about "collective punishment" and "illegal blockades". Funny. I live under collective punishment - sanctions, and countries bordering Russia are closing entry to Russians, slowly forming a blockade. And you know what? Russia deserves it. Russia deserves to learn the hard way that this is what you get for being an imperialist aggressor. I don't blame the Baltics, or Finland for closing their borders with Russia. I blame Russia for being such a shitty neighbor that such measures were needed in the first place.

And for those who will say, oh but how does this relate to the Middle East. Well, first of all, I'm a jew. I care when the biggest attack on jews since the Holocaust happens and the world spends 12 months celebrating it and bemoaning that only 1200 were murdered and not 7 million. I also care because, unlike you, I know Putin's allies, I know who helps bomb my family in Ukraine. I know that Hamas and Hezbollah and numerous other terrorist organizations terrorizing Israel are Iranian proxies. And I know Iran and Russia are buddies and Iran sells weapons to Russia. I was here, in Moscow, when the PA and Hamas were here for a visit. I was in the same city as those bloodthirsty murderers who want all jews dead. And yet people will still have the audacity to tell me that I'm the one who's in the wrong. It's me who doesn't understand anything about geopolitics, you see. I'm the one who can't tell the difference between a war and genocide even though I had entire branches of my family erased by the Holocaust, have parents and grandparents who lived in the Soviet Union and watched my own government attempt a genocide in Ukraine. I'm the one who doesn't understand imperialism even though Russia is an empire. Russians believe that all post Soviet states should still belong to them and make no mistake once they have them they'll go on to grab some more. I'm the one who doesn't understand how dictatorships operate such as using outside conflicts to distract the population from internal problems and hold on to power. I'm the one who doesn't understand anything.

I don't care if anything of what I say isn't politically correct. I don't care if just being honest about reality and refusing to coddle westerners with lies loses me followers. I'm not going to lie about my life just to be accepted on social media. I don't care. I don't care what the UN says, they've shown me their alliance way back when they didn't do shit for Ukraine. They let Russia veto whatever it didn't like. Putin wasn't arrested when he visited Mongolia. What did the UN do, really? Except waste their time with Israel? I'm not surprised to learn of the complicity of UNWRA. I'm not surprised to see videos of Hezbollah tunnels mere meters away from UN outposts. The majority of countries in the UN are undemocratic and interested in pushing their own agendas. The UN has lost its purpose. I don't care about the Red Cross, who told hostage families concerned about their family members being held by a brutal terrorist organization that "they should think about the palestinians". The red cross claimed there were no installations for the extermination of jews at Auschwitz too. I don't care about Greta Thunberg who now claims that Israel is causing damage to the environment and has forgotten all about Russia that continues to bomb Ukraine. Russia blew up a fucking dam, but everyone has already forgotten all about that. It wasn't the jews who brought down the Kakhovka dam, so who cares, right? No jews, no news. I don't care about student activists demanding they be brought humanitarian aid on the steps of elite US universities. I don't care about Biden who spent more time holding Israel back, than actually rescuing his own citizens from Hamas. I don't care about the Spanish with their history of antisemitism (the Inquisition), and colonialism (that they're now trying to blame on us by saying Columbus was a jew when he was not). I don't care about the British who also have their own history of colonialism and tried to stop jews who were fleeing the Holocaust from migrating to the then British Mandate. I don't care about South Africa, who would rather distract their own people with Israel rather than sort out their internal problems. I don't care about the BBC, Reuters, CNN, NYT nazi rags that give awards to terrorists taking pictures of the bodies of dead jewish women and cry bitter tears over a murderous monster like Nasrallah. I'm past the point of caring what any of these people say. I see who they are. I see their hypocrisy. I see their blatant bias and hatred. I see all of it. I'm tired of it.

And I'm tired of being lectured by westerners who don't live in reality. Who are so morally confused and who live with such a simplified worldview that they've started supporting terrorism. I actually live these conflicts. Who the fuck are you to lecture me? Who the fuck are you to "educate" me on anything?

[feltit-wroteit]

Spoiled and Loved

Art Donaldson x Fem!Reader

In every way, you were the person that made the college experience that much better for Art. You, on the other end, were still struggling to find your place at Uni.

Watnings: inscure reader, lost reader, small angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, reader has rich parents, one s3x joke

There he was. In your usual spot in the cafeteria eating a lunch that his athletic nutritionist must've assigned him to eat. God was your boyfriend beautiful... "Baby?" He called you out of your trance and you smiled at him. "Come?" He motioned for the chair in front of him with his head. You walked toward it and sat down with your lunch that was healthy but certainly not planned. "Hey!" You said. You started eating and asking how his morning practice was and he smiled throught it all. After finishing his lunch and while explaining his morning, he drew mindless doodles on your left hand with a pencil. One was a tennis racket the other a heart and another a paint brush. Once he was done, silence had fallen and Art looked up at you, stopping his drawing. "Y/N?" Art asked while looking for your gaze. "Hmm?" You answered still looking at your left hand. "Look at me." He asked and lifted your head up with the help of his palm on your jaw. You looked at him and smiled. "How was your day so far, baby?" He then asked with certainty. You sighed and went to look down again, only to feel your boyfriend rubbing your jaw and hearing him hum no. When you met his gaze again you felt it.

The need to tell him the truth.

"Art?" He nodded at your interpellation, waiting for you to continue. "I don't think I belong here." You had felt like this for a while, but your boyfriend's joy at being here made that feeling simmer down a little.

That was until yesterday.

"That's Donaldson's girlfriend, right?" A girl said behind you during your history of the arts lecture. You normally tuned these type of conversations out, but today your ears decided that it was a mighty fine time to do as they wanted. "She play any sports?" The girl, Jenny from what you heard her friend call her earlier, proceeded to ask her friend, Luna. "Not that anybody knows of. Not to his level at least." The other girl answered with a certain turn in her voice. It wasn't a nice one at that. ""But she must do something else around campus for her to be with him, right?" Jenny continued her interrogations. "The only place other than her lectures that people see her at are Donaldson's games. She just does those two things that includes school life. People have said and know that she doesn't even have a major yet. She just does classes until she finally finds something that makes her spark. It's pathetic really." Luna said and chuckled with her friend who fired back : "Why would he want to be with her? If I were Art Donaldson-" And you never heard the last of her life hacks, because your ears decided you had been tortured enough as it was. The notes you had started taking were the only ones you took for the rest of the 3 hour lecture. Well, what was one more exam failed?

You would stay in this godforsaken place until you found a stupid major to work in life with.... Why bother studying right now? Your parents paid for your acceptance at Stanford. Your life was as corrupted as that.

"What do you mean Y/n/n?" Art asked with a concerned look and rubbed his tumb over your jaw. "I don't know what I mean by that. But that's also a problem, I never know..." you tried to explain but it was still unclear to him. He only wanted to comfort you and make you feel at ease at all times, but right now he couldn't understand you. That made him mad at himself. "I don't know what I am going to major in, I don't know why I went to college in the first place and I don't know what you find in me. Before you start to argue that point, I have to tell you that I don't doubt your love, I doubt my ability of being loved right now. I am a mess Art... I can't do it anymore! The only thing I do know, is that I'm going to end up like I always feared..." You continued to elaborate on your feelings while he was listening. "Baby... I love you for who you are. I'm sure what you feared for your future isn't even that bad-" you cut him off on that and laughed while letting some tears flow. "Oh yeah, it is. I will end up as every other rich kid who doesn't amount to nothing and will live off my family's money for my whole life." You said and removed his hand from your face. You didn't feel deserving of his touch right now. "Stop." He said sternly. How could he have left this go this far? How couldn't he have seen you were feeling like this? How bad of a boyfriend was he? "Y/n, you are not messed up. You are beautiful and intelligent and you are worth more than your family's wealth. You are important. Not only to me but to a lot of people. Listen, college isn't for everyone, baby. I know it 's easier listening than believing, but please don't pull away from me." He had tears brimming his eyes now.

What did you do to deserve him?

"I love you, Art. I'm sorry for upsetting you..." You explained and held his hand that had been squeezing the edge of the table. "Don't, baby. You do not have to appologize. I should appologize for not seeing how you had been feeling. Please... talk to me about these things. I want to be there for you like you are for me." He took your hand back in his to play with it lightly. "Okay." You said and smiled softly at him. "Okay?" He asked smiling softly too while looking into your eyes. "Yeah. I'll talk to you more about my feelings, baby." You nodded and affirmed.

As you both walked to your last class of the day that you shared, the girls of your history of the arts lecture passed you. They were looking at you and art with sadness. It was then you realized what they had been doing. Only wallowing in their jealousy because:

Art had chose you. Not them.

His heart was set on you and that made them mad. Some part of you felt like you could see them. Maybe you were loved by someone like they wanted to be, but you were also envious of how these girls would be graduating in Teaching in less than two months likw you wanted to be graduating.

Everybody was jealous of somebody in this world.

"Art?" You asked while going closer to his side. "Hmm?" He had answered when wrapping his arm around your shoulder to pull you in even closer. "I think I'm jealous of you." You confirmed while giggling. "Oh yeah? How come, y/n?" He smiled at your randomness. "You have a massive dick. I want that." You said in the most serious tone you could master in that instance. Art burst out laughing and admitted that he was jealous of you too. "How come, Art?" You copied his sentence. "Imagine being as pretty as the one and only Y/n Y/l/n under sun rays. I'll pray for that to happen one day." You looked up into his eyes and stopped walking for a second. You smiled at him and went up to kiss him on his lips. The kiss was slow and full of love, just how you prefered then to be.

"I love you, baby. Even if you are a spoiled little brat sometimes." He said and tried to cover his head before you shoved his head to the side playfully.

[grangerhater]

A GAME OF TABOO

pairing: professor!Remus Lupin x student!reader

synopsis: it’s against the school principles but it’s just for a night right?

smut

warning: plot, teacher-student relationship, they are both two consenting adults, p in v penetration, nick names “daddy” and “baby” once or twice, spanking

The rain poured heavily outside as Y/N hurriedly made her way through the hallways of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was her last year at the prestigious school, and despite the gloomy weather, she couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement. Today was the day she would meet her new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Remus Lupin.

As Y/N entered the classroom, a warm, inviting atmosphere greeted her. The room was adorned with shelves filled with books, and the crackling fire in the fireplace emitted a comforting glow. Y/N's eyes scanned the room, finally landing on the figure standing by the blackboard.

Professor Lupin turned to face her, his eyes filled with kindness and warmth. He had a tired look about him, as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. But there was an air of wisdom and intelligence that made Y/N's heart skip a beat.

"Ah, Miss Y/L/N, I presume?" Professor Lupin greeted her with a gentle smile. "Please, come in. Take a seat."

Y/N nodded and took a seat at the front of the classroom, her heart fluttering nervously. As the other students filed in, Professor Lupin began the lesson, captivating the class with his vast knowledge and engaging teaching methods. Y/N found herself hanging onto every word, her fascination growing with each passing moment.

Days turned into weeks, and Y/N found herself growing more and more infatuated with Professor Lupin. His calm and patient demeanor, combined with his intelligence, drew her in like a moth to a flame. Yet, she couldn't help but feel a sense of guilt. It was wrong to have feelings for her teacher.

Throughout the lesson, Y/N found herself constantly stealing glances at Professor Lupin. His voice was soothing, lulling her into a sense of comfort as he explained the intricacies of the Patronus Charm. She admired the way he spoke, his words flowing effortlessly and captivating the entire class.

After class, Y/N lingered behind, pretending to gather her belongings as the other students filed out. She watched as Professor Lupin collected his papers, his brows furrowed in concentration. Summoning her courage, she approached his desk.

"Professor Lupin, I wanted to ask you something," Y/N began, her voice barely above a whisper.

He looked up, his eyes softening at the sight of her. "Of course, Y/N. What can I help you with?"

She hesitated for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest. "I... I was wondering if you could recommend any additional reading on the Patronus Charm. I find it fascinating and would love to learn more about it."

A smile spread across Professor Lupin's face as he reached for a nearby bookshelf, pulling out a worn, leather-bound book. "Ah, I have just the thing for you. This is an advanced text on the Patronus Charm. It delves into the theory behind it and provides numerous tips for successful casting. I believe you'll find it quite enlightening."

Y/N's eyes widened with gratitude as she accepted the book. "Thank you, Professor Lupin. I really appreciate it."

"It's my pleasure, Y/N. I am always here for you" he replied, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary.

Over the following weeks, Y/N found herself spending more and more time with Professor Lupin. They often engaged in deep discussions about various magical subjects, and their conversations would stretch into the night. Y/N cherished these moments, treasuring the connection she felt with him.

As the months passed, Y/N's feelings for Professor Lupin grew stronger and stronger. She found herself thinking about him constantly, and longing for his company. She couldn't help but feel a sense of guilt, knowing that a teacher-student relationship was taboo, but she couldn't deny her feelings.

One day, after class, well after curfew that is Y/N snuck out of the party that was held in her common room and drunkenly decided to take a chance and admit her feelings to Professor Lupin. She gathered her courage and knocked on his office door, her heart racing.

Unfortunately, her drunken confession came at the wrong time as Professor Lupin had just finished a particularly hard day of work and was resting in his office as he enjoyed his well-earned drink. He wasn't in the mood to entertain any conversations, let alone one with a drunken student, so he ignored the knock on the door and continued sipping on his drink, assuming that whoever it was outside the door would eventually get the hint and leave him alone. But she continued knocking on the door, oblivious to Lupin's intentions and wanting nothing more than to finally tell him how she really feels.

Lupin eventually got up and answered the door, immediately realizing that it was Y/N , and annoyed that this drunken adventure wasn't ending anytime soon. Despite his annoyance, Lupin was still fond of her and knew that she had been having a rough time lately, so he softened his demeanor and asked, "miss Y/N, what are you doing knocking on my door at this time of night?" she sheepishly looked down at her feet as she answered, "I-I wanted to tell you that I have feelings for you." Lupin's expression turned to one of confusion as he asked, "Is this some kind of joke?"

Y/N realized that she had to be serious if she wanted Lupin to take her seriously. She met Lupin's gaze and said in a determined tone, "No, this is no joke. I really do have feelings for you." Lupin's face softened further as he said, " I don't know what to say. I'm flattered, but we can't be together. I'm your professor, and-" she interrupted him, saying, "I'm not asking you to be my boyfriend, I just wanted you to know that I have real feelings for you."

Lupin looked at her, trying to figure out what to say next. He didn't want to hurt her feelings but at the same time, he couldn't ignore the fact that he had always been attracted to her. Eventually, he took a deep breath and said, "Listen Y/N… I can't act on any personal urges I may have for you. It's against school policy -and-"

Y/N interrupted him again as she stepped closer to him, putting her hands on his arms and leaning in closer. "So you're saying you're attracted to me too?"

Lupin felt his face blushing as the tension mounted between them. "I can't -", he began to say but was stopped as she leaned in closer to him, bringing her face close to his. Lupin couldn't ignore the fact that she was looking at him with such desire. He took a deep breath and said, "This is not the smartest thing either of us could do, but..”

He led her inside and locked the door behind them. He pushed her against the wall, eager to fulfill their unspoken desires. Y/N couldn't believe that her night of liquid courage had paid off, but she knew that she wanted Lupin more than anything in the world at that moment.

As Lupin kissed her with all the passion he had been suppressing for so long, her heart raced with emotion. She wrapped her arms around Lupin's neck and let him take control of the situation. Lupin gently pulled her robes off as he kissed her neck and began to explore her body. Despite his initial reservations, he couldn't deny that he wanted to be with Y/N in this moment. He moved his lips down to her neck, kissing and sucking gently as he made his way down her body. She let out a soft moan of pleasure as Lupin's lips brushed against her sensitive skin.

He continued to explore her body with his mouth, devouring her sensitive skin with his kisses. As his hands groped her curves, Y/N felt her pleasure grow and she responded by running her hands through Lupin's hair, pulling him closer and pressing herself against him. Lupin was feeling more aroused than he had in years and he finally forgot about his worries and concerns. His focus was now completely on the woman in his arms and the joy she was bringing him in this moment.

Lupin and Y/N’s passion intensified as they kissed and groped each other, their bodies pressed tightly against each other. Lupin knew that what he was doing was wrong, but he was beyond the point of worrying about rules or consequences. He wanted Y/N and he was going to have her no matter what. her moans of pleasure grew louder as Lupin increased the intensity of his kisses, running his hands over her body and squeezing her curves. Y/N was lost in a state of blissful pleasure that was overwhelming and she knew that she never wanted it to end

His hands moved down to Y/N's panties, pulling them off to reveal her wetness. He slid a finger inside her causing her to moan louder. Y/N reached down and unzipped Lupin's pants, freeing his hard member. She stroked him, making him groan in pleasure. Lupin positioned himself between her legs and entered her slowly at first, but then picking up speed. They moved together in perfect harmony, their passion intensifying with every thrust.

Lupin grabbed Y/N's hair and pulled it back, exposing her neck. He bit down on it leaving a mark. Y/N moaned in pleasure, the pain only adding to the pleasure Lupin's thrusts became rougher and more aggressive, making Y/N scream with pleasure. He spanked her ass, leaving it red and raw. They were both lost in a world of rough intense pleasure with nothing else mattering but the ecstasy they were feeling

Lupin continued to spank Y/N's ass, each hit sending waves of pleasure through her body. She begged for more, wanting to feel the pain and pleasure mix together. Lupin obliged, hitting her harder and harder until she was screaming in pleasure. He pulled out and flipped her over entering her from behind.

Lupin continued to thrust into Y/N, his hands gripping her hips tightly. She moaned and cried out calling him "daddy" in a moment of intense pleasure. Lupin's desire for her grew even stronger at the sound of the nickname, and he pounded into her harder and faster until they both reached the peak of ecstasy together.

He growled in pleasure as he continued to thrust into Y/N with rough, intense strokes "You like it rough, don't you, baby?" he asked his voice filled with desire. Y/N moaned in response, her body shaking with pleasure. "Yes, daddy," she replied, her voice filled with need. Lupin's thrusts became even rougher, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room

he whispered dirty words into her ear, telling her how much he wanted her and how he was going to make her come. Y/N's moans grew louder and more intense as he continued to pleasure her with his rough, skilled hands

Lupin continued to thrust into Y/N with rough, intense strokes until he finally reached his peak. Lupin's climax was intense, his body shaking with pleasure as he came inside her with a groan. They both collapsed onto the bed exhausted and satisfied with their experience. The room was filled with the sounds of their heavy breathing.

Lupin pulled Y/N close to him and whispered in her ear, "That was amazing, baby" Y/N smiled up at him, feeling content and satisfied. "Yes, it was," she replied, her voice filled with pleasure. They both knew that what they had just experienced was something special, something that they would never forget.

[hai7ani]

divorced parents au / with your faves

When your daughter turned two, you and your husband had brought her to Disneyland as her birthday gift. Growing up, Umi was always fond of the 12 Disney Princesses ー more specifically Princess Belle ー and she keeps a photograph of her and Belle at a meet and greet on her nightstand. Her father's half-expected her favourite to be Ariel, given that Ariel and Umi do go pretty well together. (Ariel and the sea.)

In Disneyland that summer your baby has had the time of her life, so she starts asking for it every birthday (which slowly turned into every milestone) and up until then you both have had no issues with bringing her there. He'd told you once that if going there makes her happy then he was willing to visit again, no matter the amount of times and the slight boringness he'd have to face when waiting in line to go on rides or booths.

Today she had learned how to properly draw a flying bird in art class after failing a few times and drew flying chickens instead. When you picked her up from school, the first thing she said after showing you her art proudly was, 'Let's go to Disneyland, Mama! Let's go with Daddy!'

You would bring her if you could. You know you would in a heartbeat.

But it has been two years since her last visit to Disneyland, and you and your husband aren't together anymore.

So when he comes over for dinner tonight ー just like he has been every Friday without miss ever since your divorce ー you show him Umi's drawing of the flying bird.

"Can I bring this back with me? I'd like to frame it up." He asks. In his head he plans to hang it on the wall of his living room, right on top of his television, next to your family portrait.

You eat a piece of the orange he'd peeled. "Of course."

/

At noon when your daughter asked, you told her no. So at night she is tugging on her father's shirt with a red face full of tears and she is begging for him to stay.

"Stay here, daddy. Don't go." She cries to him at the foyer. Only one side of his shoe is put on and he kicks it away quick when she attempts to climb into his arms.

"You'll see me again on Sunday, Mimi." He attempts to console her. "We're gonna go to the mall together 'n we'll find the toy you've been wanting."

Her father scoops her into his arms and sits on the floor. She kicks her feet in the air and wails.

"But I want to go to Disneyland with you and Mama." She sobs into his arms. He pecks her crown and shushes her a little.

When your chest gets too heavy you push yourself off the wall you've been leaning against and turn your back to them.

(You've been watching the duo since the moment her father was putting on his shoe, ready to leave, and your daughter came running after him in her pyjamas with wet tears already streaming down her cheeks.)

And Umi continues to cry while her father rocks her in his arms, trying his best to console her.

While walking away from the scene, you pick on the skin around your thumb. Your nose sours and you try pinching it in hopes of soothing it a little.

"Why d'ya wanna go to Disneyland?" You hear him ask before you disappear into the hallway. It's funny how he still asks even though you and him both know that going or not going to Disneyland was never the problem.

Umi sniffles. Her father hums for her to say it.

You hide behind the door of your bedroom.

"I want Mama, Daddy and Umi together again."

Just the three of us together in Umi's favourite place.

You cry.

/

"She's asleep now."

You pause from folding laundry at the couch and look up. He's got both hands in his pockets and a soft smile planted on his face.

He's also a mess, you notice ー his shirt a little stretched and out of place from how hard your daughter had been tugging on it earlier, the fabric wet from tear and snot stains, his hair a bit disheveled (you figure he was resting beside her when putting her to sleep), and he's moving to sit beside you on the couch now.

You smile back. "Thank you. I haven't been able to calm her down easily these days."

He picks up one of the garments from the pile and starts folding it beside you. "It's fine. You know I like doing it." I like being a dad, is what he wishes to say. But he knows you know it already and he holds his tongue.

Neither of you say a thing to each other after that and he continues helping you with the laundry. He folds your bra the way you prefer and your daughter's school uniform neatly so that it doesn't crease.

You steal a few glances at him without shame while stacking his sweatpants onto his pile of clothes.

"Your hair's getting long." You comment.

"Is it?" He raises his brows, genuinely wanting to know.

"Yeah." You reach a hand up to comb through his soft strands of hair. You push them back and try parting it on the middle.

"I've been busy." He's got a boxy, kind of nervous smile on his face when he explains. "Can't really see well through the mirror anyway." He rubs his nape.

You chuckle. "Want me to cut it for you?"

"Okay."

/

You still keep a room for your ex-husband even after the end of your marriage and he's given you the house.

You like telling yourselves it's solely for the sake of your daughter, for when she misses her father a little too much and refuses to let him leave.

But both of you know that's not really the case.

Somehow it didn't feel right when he was in the process of moving out to his new apartment somewhere in Meguro, and you slowly realise that you'd be having an empty room all to yourself.

(Back then you didn't think you could cope with living alone in the house you used to love each other in ー in the house you'd both created a life in.

You still don't now. Not really, anyway.)

So you transform the room that used to be his study into his own bedroom just right across the master (yours). He didn't reject the idea when you told him so.

And because of this, you leave your bedroom door open whenever he stays the night.

Tonight you do it again, and you watch him across the hall, in his room, drying off his freshly cut hair. Your head is resting on the edge of the bed with one hand tucked under your cheek and the other playing with a plush toy he'd gifted you many years ago.

When he turns to hang his towel on the wall he sees you like this. You don't shy away when he smirks.

"Goodnight." You mouth to him. You stay like that until he leaves his door open and finally gets in bed ー until he, too, shuffles around, and dangles his head off the edge of his own bed.

"Goodnight." He mouths it back to you.

You spend some time looking at each other like that ー really taking your realities in ー in rooms across each other with heads dangling off the edge of your beds, two hearts connected by the sea, and your daughter asleep in the room next to yours.

On most nights he comes over sometime during the night and helps you back on your pillow when you accidentally fall asleep like this, and every time, you'd unconsciously tug on his arm and beg him not to go.

He stays every single time.

Tonight, however, he pads over to your room while you're still awake with a pillow clutched in one hand.

"Hi." You scoot on the bed to make space for him as he throws his pillow next to yours and lays down beside you ー face to face, heart to heart. "Hey." He sighs upon getting comfortable on the bed he'd grown to find so much comfort in.

You bring the blanket up to cover his shoulders. He scoots closer to you, sneaks a hand under your shirt, and rubs a warm hand up and down your spine. (You always sleep better when he rubs your back like this.)

And while falling asleep you think to yourself that perhaps someday you'll get to try again as lovers.

You know for a fact that you'll always love him in your heart, and you'll never stop loving him even though it doesn't really make sense anymore ー just like how he'd sworn to never love again after your divorce.

Perhaps someday the both of you would be ready to move on ー still loving each other, but ready to move on from your past, from your love.

And perhaps someday the two of you wouldn't have to argue about money or time anymore. Perhaps someday he'll find a suitable work-life balance, and you're able to trust him enough to keep himself safe at work.

But for now, he's content with rubbing your back as you fall asleep next to him in the bed you'd once shared. You're content with the flowers he still buys you from time to time and cutting his hair whenever it grows out.

For now, you know that you're not ready to move on just yet. Both of you are not, and both of you have something else in mind...

You want to try again.

And you know that trying again will not be easy, but you both also know that you're willing to start all over again with everything you have if given the chance, the opportunity.

Maybe someday.

Maybe you'll give it more time.

(You feel a nudge on your elbow.)

Or...

"Wanna go to Disneyland tomorrow?"

(You smile.)

"Yes."

...Maybe tomorrow?

(He reddens all over.)

"Okay."

You'll see.

(just some characters i have in mind) TOKYO REVENGERS RAN, RINDOU, KAKUCHO, DRAKEN, NAOTO JUJUTSU KAISEN GOJO, NANAMI BLUE LOCK SAE, RIN HAIKYUU KITA, OSAMU & your faves

(i have never been to disneyland before. 😹)

© HAI7ANI ON TUMBLR. DO NOT STEAL

[queer-little-demigod]

Hi lea!!!! Can you write about an clarisse la true x apollo!reader

Clarisse got in trouble for something (what's new tho) and got a punishment of helping out with the little demigods art class for 2 weeks (or however long) the volunteer teacher is reader. At first Clarisse did NOT wanna be there she acted like a baby for the first few days but after she got more involved and started to understand she enjoyed it (she would never admit it), she started talking to the kids more (she totally has favorites, reader has to constantly tell her dont be so obvious about her favorites 😭) it got to a point where the kids would start talking to her outside of class. Also Clarisse definitely doesn't develop a crush on reader. AT ALL. SHE DEFINITELY HATES HOW PASSIONATE SHE IS ABOUT THE KIDS AND ART AND HOW GOOD SHE IS WITH KIDS SHE DOESN'T THINK ITS CUTE AT ALL. SHE DOESNT THINK OF THAT CLASS AS ONE BIG FAMILY. I mean what???? Who said that???

Anyways when it's time for her to go reader takes some of the kids to make a goodbye sign for clarisse; clarisse takes her 100% not favorite kid on a secret mission to make an 'I'm staying' sign. Then reader and Clarisse present them at the same time and it's all cutesy!! After class, reader asks clarisse on a date via showing her a pain she drew of them on a date and hopes she gets the message!

Thank you! :)

you got an artist inside you - clarisse la rue

summary where clarisse finds herself falling in love with a girl over paintbrushes and a punishment

fic type fluff

pairing clarisse la rue x fem!apollo!reader

word count 1.8k

warnings none

The camp was usually sleepy, quiet, and mostly empty apart from a few stray campers training here and there. But with summer already beating down with a burning force, it was full of kids running around, training left right and center, and all-in-all just general chaos.

So with the burning heat came grumpy older campers, which meant fights.

And a fight at lunch is what led to Clarissa having to help the younger campers with art class, with the co-teacher being none other than you, Y/n L/n, counsellor of the Apollo cabin. Additionally and otherwise known as the girl Clarisse was smitten with.

"Clarisse La Rue if you don't stop whining like that right now, I am going to smack you," you grumbled in utter frustration for the fifth time that hour, when she complained to you about some kid not cutting the paper the way it was supposed to be cut.

For a child of the god of war, she was such a wuss sometimes.

"But they're not following-" she began to protest, but a smack upside the head with a roll of wrapping paper shut her up.

"They're seven year olds in a summer camp art class," you emphasised on those facts. "They're gonna do their own thing!"

This was how the first few days went. She complained, you disciplined both her and the kids. But once she got used to the whole routine of you both giving instructions and the final products having irritatingly distinct variations, she cooled down.

If this was going to be a punishment for the next two weeks, she might as well enjoy it.

The art room, as usual, was a mess. Glitter was everywhere, coloured pencils were strewn around, papers were on the floor, blackened and trampled on. The strong scent of glue made everyone a bit woozy, and there was enough shouting for supplies across the table to give even the calmest camper a sensory overload.

Clarisse sat in the danger zone where the most glitter was being thrown around and spilled, and her soft skin was already glimmering with purple and red glitter as she tried restoring order. However, instead of yelling as usual she was laughing along with the little kids.

One kid in particular, you noticed, she helped far more than the others. A Hephaestus kid named Dennis, who was the sweetest little thing with big, round glasses and bronze hearing aids that you had Charlie customise so they looked like metal elf ear tips.

You pulled Clarissa aside and scolded her with a smile, “Clar, you cannot pick favourites!”

Clarissa loved your smile with everything she had. So naturally, she was so captivated by it that she didn't hear you the first time. Nor did she register the scolding.

"Excuse me, but Dennis deserves special treatment--" She began, but you cut her off.

"No, he's just like the other kids, okay? Just make sure you don't pick favourites, please," you sighed and walked away, going back to showing the kids how to make paper butterflies.

But you're my favourite, she thought to herself. She wished she had the courage to say it out loud, admit her feelings for you, but she couldn't.

Later, as time went by, as days of standing in clouds of glitter and glue fumes began and ended, Clarisse found that she was apparently likeable. After classes, during training, during dinner, she'd have little kids pulling her sleeve to talk to her, she'd have kids randomly hugging her at odd times of the day, or giving her small artworks like a wonky bird or a odd-looking Cerebrus. It shocked the campers beyond belief.

But for you it just made your love for her grow.

One day during class, a Demeter kid named Flora started to cry because glitter went into her eye. You rushed over immediately and helped her up, holding her in your arms as you took her to the basin to clean her up.

"Shh, don't cry, baby, it's okay, I'm gonna wash it out, alright?" You said softly.

"Guys, focus on your work, Flo's fine," Clarisse said, clapping her hands to direct the staring kids back to work, her eyes fixed on you as you washed Flora's eyes with water gently, telling her that she should not to go so close to the page when blowing glitter off in the softest voice the child of war had ever heard.

You were so gentle, like the softest summer breeze which didn't make the leaves rustle, but cooled one's warming skin. You were so precious, with your soft smile and loving words. Your voice was sweet like honey, no matter who you talked to or how.

If your voice was bottled, she swore to the gods that she'd get drunk on it every night.

"You okay, champ?" She asked, gently ruffling Flora's soft brown hair as the girl sat down. "You're a strong girl, aren't you? Showed that stupid glitter it's place."

You giggled at the way she spoke, covering your mouth with your hand to hide it. It was ridiculously obvious that Clarisse thought the kids in the art class were like family, and it was genuinely so adorable.

Seeing her like this, curly hair pulled back in her red bandanna, arms splattered with paint here and there, with glitter shining off her smooth caramel skin with every movement she made into the light, lit up something inside of you. Seeing her without her usual scowl, pulling funny faces with the kids as she showed them how to draw a monster, made your heart beat twice as fast.

However, two weeks went by with heartbreaking speed, and before she knew it, she was in Chiron's office, listening to him gleefully say she was officially un-grounded.

But honestly? She didn't share his happiness.

Nor did you.

"What?! Already!?" You exclaimed that evening as you sat in your cabin at your desk, which had plans put out for what to make for the next art class.

"Yeah," she grumbled, lounging on your bed. "I hate it."

"That's rough, but it's okay, you can always hop in to volunteer,"

"What do we tell the little ones?"

"The truth?"

"You're fucking crazy if you think they'll go with it,"

"I'm out of options, Clar," you leaned back in your chair and put your hands over your eyes. "I love that class, and I love teaching art."

"I know, and as much as I hate to admit it," she sat up. "So do I."

The very next day, Clarisse rushed to Chiron and begged him to let her stay for that class. Even going to lengths that she told him how she felt for you.

"Fine," he relented. "You can stay with the class for as long as you'd like,"

She'd never run to the forges to find a kid so fast.

"Beckendorf!" She exclaimed, looking at the cabin counselor. "Hey, where's Dennis?"

The boy looked around, and his eyes landed on Dennis, who was inquisitively watching one of his half-sisters mold a few practice swords, helping occasionally with putting the swords in water.

"Dennis!" Beckendorf exclaimed, "Clarisse wants to talk to you!"

Dennis immediately ran over, grinning broadly, showing his gap-toothed smile. "Hi, Clarisse!" He said, excitedly.

"Hey there, big boy!" She smiled back, giving him a high five. "So listen, I'm going to need your insane artistic skills and your help..."

While you did help the other kids make a 'goodbye' sign for Clarisse, on the side you decided to confront your feelings.

You knew you liked her from the beginning, from when you first saw her infectious smile, from when you heard her deep laugh reverberating through the empty Apollo cabin on days where you both would plan lessons.

She held the key to your heart, she knew her way past your walls. She clearly also knew how to remain in your thoughts, subconscious and conscious, to the point where you found yourself in the art studio, canvas on an easel before you.

Thoughts of her, of feeling her coarse, battle-worn hands on your skin, of gazing into those deep brown eyes which were like the colour of the rain-kissed earth, and when she fought were like the evening sun, golden enough to put the wings of Icarus to shame, made your paintbrush move. It made your colours flow like the blood in your veins, made each stroke perfect enough to create the scene you most desired on the canvas in front of you.

You stepped back once you felt the need to express yourself flow away, gazing at the canvas. A scene it held, and what a scene indeed. The sky was cornflower blue, a cloudless day, with the sun’s rays shining down on a big oak tree. The leaves were paler as the golden light kissed the surface, casting sharp shadows on the pillowy grass.

But then there was vivid orange and red, a flash of bronze. In the foreground there sat both you and Clarisse, the latter having more detail than any part of the drawing.

Then the dreaded day came where you all had to say goodbye to her.

The little ones were devastated, not letting Clarisse go anywhere without following her around like baby ducklings, making her explain to them that she's not going away from camp, she's just not going to teach them anymore.

At the end of the final class, just as everyone unveiled the 'we'll miss you' poster, she and Dennis revealed their 'I'm Staying' poster, causing a loud, thunderous cheer to erupt from all of you.

Later, you pulled her aside to give her your canvas painting.

Nerves wracked your body, your palms began to sweat.

When was the last time you had felt this nervous? It was probably your cello recital the day you had come to camp...

"Holy shit, Y/n this looks absolutely amazing!" Clarisse exclaimed, taking the painting in her hands.

She didn't miss the detail you had given her, drawing her angelically, despite her thinking she was the opposite. It was so well done that the brush strokes weren't even visible.

Please get the message, you blockheaded, oblivious fool...you thought.

Deciding to act against your nerves, you asked her in a shaky voice, "That's a painting of us on a date...would you like to go on one with me sometime?"

Clarisse's heart stopped. Had you just asked her out on a date?

She was at a loss for words, they didn't touch her tongue, nor did they pass her lips. She stood there, speechless, gaping at you for a moment too long.

"I mean, I get it, you're probably not even a les--" you began, but a pair of gentle lips on yours silenced your words.

Sparks flew, butterflies went haywire, your brain short-circuited. You didn't know what to doo, just stood there frozen with shock. Kissing the girl you had liked for the last few months now.

Clarisse, however, was ecstatic. Her mind was a burst of colour, her body was ablaze. She felt like she had wings, and her heart was taking her up, up, up.

Once she pulled away, she winked at your blushing face and dopey grin.

"It's a date, L/n."

hi, it's me! lea! i hope you enjoyed this long overdue oneshot <3 requests are open via dms or asks!

[koolades-world]

Hey there! I'd Like to request something. So like, MC is an Artist (Style doesn't matter they just have to draw humanoid things) and then they draw the brothers+dateables in their style, what would the reaction be?

hello! sure thing :)

I myself am admittedly not a very good artist, which is my my preferred art form is writing. the only time I draw is usually during gartic phone games with friends, and thanks to my franticness under a time limit it's always very chaotic. but at this point I've just embraced it and it's always funny

enjoy!

Artist Mc

Lucifer

you draw him while he's seated at the dinner table on a saturday morning while he's reading the newspaper and enjoying a coffee

not that you didn't intend to show him, but suddenly he was leaning over your shoulder, staring, and it caught you off guard

as you scramble to explain, he just smiles and sits back down in his chair and goes back to what he was doing to keep being you model

once you're done, he asks if he can at least have a copy to keep, which in itself is a huge compliment, but it's so he can think of you every time he looks at it 🥺

Mammon

during class, he happened to look super cute as always while looking wistfully out a nearby window a few rows in front of you and the lesson was getting boring anyways. next to your notes, you begin to doodle him, using highlighters for color

you forget it's there and lend him that very notebook since he had tuned out that same lesson

once he opens it, he seems himself and doesn't know how to react. he's a babbling, red mess

once he regains motor functions, he shakily declares that it's very becoming of the Great Mammon and that you did a great job. success!

Levi

the two of you are hanging out in his room. he's playing a ruri game and you're lounging behind him, sketching on a bean bag

you're not drawing anything in particular and were searching for an idea when suddenly, the idea found you

levi wasn't paying attention to you, so you could easily look at him and ruri, and sketch them side by side in matching outfits

once he stops for a moment to get a snack, you happily show him the drawing and he does the demon equivalent of blue screening. give him a minute to reboot then try again haha

Satan

when you decided to draw him, the two of you were seating together, with you in his lap while he read a book so he saw the drawing from it's first line to it's last

made positive comments about it the entire time, like about how you captured the green of his eyes perfectly, or telling you his hair looked better in the picture than it did in real life

at some point, he stopped pretending to read the book and sat watching you with his chin on your shoulder

he added cute little notes around it once you were done with little hearts around them

Asmo

he's asked you to draw him jokingly a few times, but never expected you to actually do it the next time he asked

when you tell him if he wants, he can pick something else to wear, he almost strips down so you can draw him nude but you stop him as soon as he started to take his shirt off

he scurried away and was back quickly in a new outfit, and posed how he would for a picture

talks to you basically the entire time you draw, and once you're done, he squeezes you into a tight hug and asks if he can post it on his Devilgram

Beel

after joining him enough times for Fangol practice, you knew it well enough to begin making sketches of him as he practiced

drawing him in action was a little challenging since he never held still, but you were determined

you drew a few since his practice went on longer that day, and got to proudly show him the results

he was equally as proud of you since he thought you did a great job. he asks if he can have one, and if you give it to him, you'll find it hanging up next to his bed next to all his Fangol trophies <3

Belphie

he's an easy model to draw thanks to his lethargy, so you often find yourself sketching him

something about his peaceful nature and natural frosted tips was just so drawable, so you had at least a few pages full of him napping in various positions with different blankets

one time, he wakes up while you're next to him drawing, and is a little shocked in a good way. he didn't know you viewed him that highly

he's still half asleep, so he just compliments your artwork and moves to lay his head on your lap, then falls back asleep, ensuring you're the flustered one now

[colormepurplex2]

Falling In Love At A Coffee Shop | MYG

▻ Falling In Love At A Coffee Shop ↳ ArtProfessor!Yoongi x Artist/CoffeeShopOwner!f.Reader ⤜ Strangers to Lovers, Cozy Romance ⤜ Coffee Shop/Art AU | fluff, smut ⤜ Rating: MA ⤜ WC: 8,028 ⤜ Summary: It’s like clockwork; you receive the same online order every weekday morning at eight o’clock: large decaf iced Americano, picked up promptly shortly after. His face has become familiar, as a part of your routine as the hiss of the espresso machine. Until, one day, that routine takes an unexpected turn, and you find yourself getting familiar with more than just his face. ⚠️ Very mild language, panic over student/teacher potential date (reader is a student, but she's the same age as Yoongi, just taking classes later in life than most), oral m receiving, fingering, kissing, mild dirty talk, cum swallowing, confessions of the heart

A/N: This is part of my 'Heartbeat Melodies' mini-series, where I write fics that are inspired by songs. If you'd like to hear the song that inspired this, you can find it here! A special thank you to @downbad4yoongi & @moonleeai for their amazing beta services!

Can also be found on: Ao3 | Wattpad

“Large decaf iced Americano,” you call out, barely glancing up from behind the counter.

A deep, familiar drawl pulls your attention, “That would be mine.” It’s only familiar for the fact you’ve heard that voice nearly every day for the last six months.

Your eyes snap up from the tablet, where the next online order has come through, to meet warm brown ones. “I should have known,” you reply before you can think better to bite your tongue. Heat suffuses your cheeks. You pull your lips between your teeth to stifle the groan of embarrassment that begs to be released.

The man chuckles, absently using a knuckle to push up the hornrimmed glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know if I should be offended or honored by that comment. But, I guess I do come here a lot.”

Nearly every day for the last six months, at least. That’s how often he comes here—to your coffee shop. It’s tiny, barely big enough for a handful of small tables and chairs. But it’s yours, and you’re proud of it.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to seem…” you trail off. Not sure how to finish that thought because you’re not entirely sure how you meant it or why you said it other than the fact you’re a bit frazzled this morning and apparently forgot your mouth filter at home. It was a late night last night for you. It's not an excuse, but still.

He waves a large hand in the air, dismissing your apology. “Please, it’s quite alright. I’ll take it as flattery; could use a little boost to my confidence anyhow.”

That almost makes you sputter in disbelief. There’s absolutely no way this man needs any flattery. Surely, he comes by it in droves. Because, well, he’s honestly so gorgeous it should be criminal.

His hair is fluffy, somewhere between charcoal grey and black, though the warm lighting of your cafe gives it a golden honey halo effect. The eyes behind his black-rimmed glasses are dark swirls of espresso that match his coffee order—a straight nose sitting above soft, pink lips that have a light glossy sheen to them.

As usual, he’s wearing a pressed slack and jacket combo, a cream-colored collared shirt underneath with a bold print tie. His choice of ties is what drew you to him in the first place, and made you pay a little closer attention to the mysterious man behind the large decaf iced Americano.

You clear your throat, daring to be bold, while it seems you’ve no filter to stop you. “Well, if you ever need further flattery, you know where to find me.” It’s clear that you give him an assessing once over, his eyes locked onto yours as you do so.

“Do you paint?”

The question throws you off, nearly making you drop the tablet in your hands. Your fingers flex against the case, your thumb brushing along the glass screen. Busying yourself with reviewing the next order on the screen, you turn, giving him your back as you decide how to answer his random question. You’ve never actually had a conversation with him; this man that you feel like you know yet is a complete stranger.

“Why do you ask?” you deflect as you go through the motions of scooping grinds and swapping out the portafilter for a freshly filled one. However, you know it’s not always polite to answer a question with a question; you’re just not sure how to decipher his curiosity or where it came from to begin with.

The bell above the door rings, and you wince as the espresso machine gurgles and hisses loudly as you mechanically pop a cup in the machine and hit the brew button. The noise fills the quiet space of the coffee shop. It’s not until the cup is filled, you’ve added two lumps of sugar, and you’re grabbing a lid that the man responds.

“There’s paint under your fingernails. Or, at least, what I would guess is paint.”

Glancing down at the cup in your hand, you take in the colorful myriad of flecks coating your skin. The colors fill the grooves of your knuckles and hug around the bed of your nails.

“Double espresso with two sugars,” you announce, ripping your gaze from your hand to the interior space of your cafe. A woman steps around the man, giving you a hurried smile as she holds out her hand to receive the cup. You hand it off. “Have a good day.”

Giving the cafe's inside a quick glance, you ensure all the customers within are taken care of. A college student is busy pounding away at their laptop keyboard in the corner, utilizing your free wifi. A half-empty cup of hot cocoa sits cold and abandoned beside them. A trio of friends sit at your only table big enough to seat more than two people, laughing softly and sipping hot lattes and teas. No one seems to need your attention; except the man still standing there, large decaf iced Americano in hand.

You lick your lips, a nervous habit you picked up after endless stressful nights pouring your heart, soul, blood, sweat, and tears into opening the small cafe. Most believed it would flop; others rallied to your side and helped your dream come true.

“Look, sorry if I’ve overstepped somehow,” he begins, but you shake your head, letting him know he’s not.

Gesturing at the wall behind the man, you finally answer, “In my spare time.”

He glances over his shoulder, eyes zigzagging across the giant unfinished mural covering the windowless back wall of the cafe.

“That?” he asks. “You’re painting that?”

It’s hard to decipher if that’s disbelief or awe coloring his voice.

“I am,” you answer a bit hesitantly.

“Wow!” he exclaims, a giant grin spreading across his face, crinkling his eyes at the corners. “I’ve been meaning to ask after the artist every time I come in and see something new added, I just uh,” he brings his free hand up and rubs it across the back of his neck, eyes dropping to the floor under his feet, “well, could never bring myself to.” It’s pretty, the way his cheeks take on a flush of color as his eyes cut to you from over the frame of his glasses. “It’s wonderful work.”

“Thank you.” You can’t help your own flush of shyness at his praise.

“So, uh,” he lifts his cup and gives it a swirl, the ice sloshing around inside, before taking a small sip through the straw, “I know you probably see it on the order, but for the sake of propriety, my name’s Yoongi.”

Min Yoongi, to be more precise, you know. It’s a name you’ve read so many times it’s ingrained in your mind. However, it’s still nice for him to offer it to you. Willingly establishing your connection one step further than his coffee order.

You feel so silly tapping the name tag on the front of your apron, but you do it before you can think better of it, mumbling your name as if he can’t read it for himself after you brought direct attention to it. “Sorry, I’m not normally so weird,” you give a shaky laugh, willing yourself to shut up before you chase him off from how awkward you’re being.

Something changes in his demeanor, his eyes taking on a light twinkle that sits somewhere between mischief and wonder. “I like weird,” he offers casually as if that doesn’t make your stomach swoop and your heart beat a little harder. “Maybe we can talk more about your art sometime. Maybe over dinner? Or lunch if dinner is too forward.”

If you were a cartoon, you’re confident your tongue would actually be tied into a jumbled knot right now with you frantically trying to talk around it, a comical scene for sure. Yet, there is no knot, just a thick feeling that you have to swallow past. “Um, yeah, sure. That would be great. Dinner…or uh, lunch. Both. Either one. Though, dinner might be better considering my hours.”

Yoongi glances at the vinyl hours printed on the front window by the door. They’re backward from his vantage point, but you assume he has no issue reading them, considering he turns back to you and asks, “How does seven work for you?”

“Tonight?” The beating of your heart lurches again, and you can barely hear him over the rushing in your ears.

“Yeah, if that’s not too soon. Perhaps next week, if that’s better? I don’t want to come on too strong. Or well, rather, what I mean to say is, don’t feel pressured.” You can tell he’s feeling hesitant now, trying to backtrack and offer you a way to politely decline his offer for dinner tonight. You didn’t mean to come off sounding so put out. You just weren’t expecting his request to be for tonight.

Mentally, you dig through your schedule. You’re not closing today. Marvin comes in at noon to help with the lunch rush, and then you leave at four to make it to your five o’clock class. It would be today of all days that your new art class starts. It’s the beginning of the fall semester at the local university, and you just so happened to decide to take a few art classes they were offering, the first of which starts tonight.

The class should only be around an hour long, with plenty of time to get home and change before the date. Is it a date? Or just strangers getting together to talk about art? Isn’t that what a date is anyway, though?

“Seven. Tonight. That would be great.”

“Okay, perfect. Can I pick you up? Or we can meet here if that works better.”

It’s endearing he’d offer, both picking you up and meeting in a familiar place. Considering you live above the coffee shop, though, it makes no difference. Though, he doesn’t necessarily know that.

“Here is fine.”

“Wonderful. Have you tried that steak house on the corner yet?”

“The new one that opened last week?” He nods. “I haven’t, no.”

“Perfect.” Yoongi smiles. “Here, at seven. Consider it a date.” His smile falters, and his brows pinch, forming a line between them. “Not that I…well, it’s not that…it doesn’t have to be…if you don’t want this to be a date, that’s—”

“It’s a date,” you confirm, giving him what you hope to be a warm smile to ease his mild panic. “I’ll see you then, Yoongi.”

“See you then,” he responds, tacking your name on at the end in his deep drawl. The way it sounds coming from his mouth should be added to one of those spicy erotica audiobooks you may or may not have downloaded on your phone.

Just as Yoongi is leaving, it’s like the world finally takes a breath, and the exhalation that follows brings with it a rush of early morning commuters seeking their morning fix. The everyday bustle and hubbub of the day filter back in, and you’re soon lost to the sway of the shop, coffee, tea, and cocoa. It all comes alive beneath your nimble fingers, much reminiscent of the way holding a brush makes you feel: a thrill of the soul with each pour.

☕☕☕

Yoongi

In all Yoongi’s years of teaching, he’s never been late to a class, especially on the first day of the semester. Yet, he’s nearly fifteen minutes late getting into his classroom this morning. Students are already filled in and scattered around the theatre-style seating. No one says anything. It’s far too early in the morning for smart mouths and snarky remarks about his tardiness. Not that he would expect that from any of the students anyway.

“Good morning, welcome to Art 320. I’m Professor Min.” He drops his bag and coffee off on his podium at the front of the classroom. Turning to the large chalkboard behind it, he scrawls his name to the side and then begins to write directions. “We will begin with Chapter 1, ‘Mediums and Forms’, in your textbook. Please read quietly, and I’ll be with you all in a moment.”

The day goes on, class after class, and the familiar monotony of it brings Yoongi a sense of peace. This is familiar territory; he’s in his element, not like this morning in the coffee shop. He felt totally out of control and swept up in the swirl of uncertainties and possibilities.

To say he’s relieved you agreed to go to dinner with him would be an understatement. From the moment he decided to change up his routine to check out the cafe Namjoon wouldn’t shut up about, he’s been hooked not only on the impeccable decaf iced Americano, nor the beautifully decorated and painted interior but on the smiling face behind the counter.

Yoongi feels a bit self-conscious thinking about how much he thinks about you. He’s always been too intimidated by the idea of speaking more than a few passing words to you. It’s like every time he gathered up the courage, it would abandon him at the last moment. Namjoon calls it a crush, Yoongi calls it frustrating.

The whole conversation this morning is a bit of a blur to him. Yoongi swears once he opened his mouth it was nearly impossible to stop the word vomit from gushing out…and the next thing he knew, you were agreeing to a date with him tonight.

The day's last class rolls around, and Yoongi feels much lighter as he steps out of his adjoining office and into the classroom to welcome the new students. A few offer him quiet hello’s, some he’s seen from other art classes he’s monitored across the entire department and fine arts program. 

Turning his back as the last few students filter in, he makes the same spiel he has at the beginning of every class. “Good morning, welcome to Art 320. I’m Professor Min…”

And so it begins, the beautiful dance of teaching and introducing fresh minds to the concept of forms and mediums. Yoongi is sure he could recite the entirety of Chapter 1 from memory now, with as many times as he’s gone over it today.

“What if you decide you don’t like your form or medium halfway through the project?” a student from the front row asks after Yoongi explains the medium and forms requisite for the final project for this class.

“We’re going to spend plenty of time during the first part of the semester testing out different mediums to know which best suits each of your individual tastes and needs. Regarding the form, I recommend choosing something you most likely won’t tire of. Something that means something to you but also isn’t so complex that you frustrate yourself and burn out before you can complete the project. You’re welcome to, at any time, bring me an idea of the form you’re considering, and we can talk about the intricacies and any potential issues that might arise with using it.”

Another question comes from somewhere in the middle, “Can we choose people, too?”

“A form can be anything that inspires you. If that happens to be a person, then of course. However, note that portraiture isn’t covered until Art 322, but I’ll do my best to help if that’s what you choose.” Yoongi glances at the clock, noticing there are only a few minutes left of class. “Let’s take the last few minutes to wind down, pack your things. If you have any further questions concerning your final project forms and mediums, please don’t hesitate to email me. Also, my office hours are open Tuesdays and Thursdays from two to six.”

As Yoongi turns to begin putting his things away from his podium, his eyes slide across the faces of his last class students, trying to cram them into his mind for the sake of remembering. He always likes to be as personable and approachable to his students as possible; knowing names and faces is always a good place to start.

He has to do a double take as his eyes flick over the very top row. The shock is felt throughout his entire body. It’s not that he’s surprised to see a face he already knows. It’s just that he wasn’t expecting it…wasn’t expecting to see you. Mild panic makes him jerk around, hands gripping at the papers on his podium, shuffling them mechanically.

The first thought that crosses his mind is he can’t possibly be going on a date with one of his students. Surely you’re just here to…to what? He turns over one of the papers, quickly scanning his roster that he hadn’t bothered to check yet. It doesn’t take long for his eyes to snag on your name.

Unease settles across his shoulders. He hates to cancel the date, as he was really looking forward to it, but it’s just…not right, right? There’s a line he shouldn’t cross with his students, even one who he is sure is his age and not the typical college freshman. Yoongi knows this because maybe, perhaps, he might have spent his lunch hour googling you and the cafe. You’re in your early thirties, given the birth year that was viewable on one of your social media pages, and own the coffee shop, have for several years now…a full-ass grown adult—the perfect person to date.

Except now you’re his student. There’s some moral code there somewhere, something about the skewed power dynamic. The thought of going on this date should have red flags flashing in his mind. Yet…yet, no matter how much he tells himself to cancel, he honestly doesn’t want to. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt that much, right? A harmless date.

That’s what he’s still telling himself as he dismisses the class a few minutes later. He intentionally avoided looking in your direction, unsure if you’d be comfortable with him acknowledging you as one of his students or not.

Much to his surprise, as the bubble of sound dissipates, a soft voice reaches his ears from a few feet behind him, “Fancy meeting you here.”

Yoongi has been so consumed with his own feelings about going on a date with a student that he hasn’t even thought about how you might feel. Are you about to cancel on him? Does he try to convince you not to?

He slowly turns, the stack of papers clutched in his hands, glasses slipping down his nose, yet he doesn’t want to pry his fingers from the bundle to fix them. “Look, I understand if you’d rather not—”

“I’m fine as long as you are.”

He’s relieved for your interruption, for keeping him from saying those words out loud. “Are you sure? If I had known this morning that you’d be one of my students…” he trails off, because he’s not so sure that would have stopped him after all. Considering he’s wanted to ask you out for at least the last four months.

“I’m glad you asked me. Student or not. I promise not to make it weird if you don’t.” You give him a brilliant smile, coy and full of mirth but light enough to make his heart jerk inside his chest.

“No weirdness, got it,” he agrees, unable to help his own teasing smile.

“So, I’ll see you then?” you ask, hefting your canvas bag on your shoulder. His eyes flick to it, noting the splashes and swirls of fabric paint that cover the outside. Yoongi wonders if you painted it yourself.

He nods, letting his eyes drink you in one last time before you turn to go. You’re still wearing the same jeans and thin cable knit sweater from the coffee shop this morning. Even in such casual clothes, you are stunning. A work of art all your own. He doesn’t stop staring until the door to his classroom shuts behind you.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath. It’s not out of irritation or anger, just an acknowledgement of how truly and utterly he’s got it down bad for you.

☕☕☕

Seven can’t come soon enough. It only took you thirty minutes to get ready, putting on a simple black dress and flats. It’s not too fancy, but it makes you feel far more put together than just jeans and a t-shirt.

At five til, you make your way down into the coffee shop from your upstairs apartment. All of the main overhead lights are off, leaving only the warm accent lights that line the menu board and the display case lights on. Even now, the space smells delightedly of coffee.

It’s kind of funny, the fact that you’re not a coffee drinker. Everyone finds it odd that someone who doesn’t drink coffee would aspire to open a coffee shop. What they fail to realize is you love the smell of coffee. The warm, roasted, mildly sweet notes are what you thrive on, better than any shot of espresso in your mind.

There is a street lamp right outside your shop, flooding the sidewalk with a pool of yellow light. Standing just within the glow is Yoongi, his back to the shop door. You watch as his head swivels, looking down both directions of the sidewalk, completely unaware that you’ll be coming from behind him instead.

The sound of the lock turning over startles him. He jerks around and laughs softly, taking a step back, hand to his chest, as you pull the door open. “Can’t say I expected you to come from inside the cafe.”

“I would have been down sooner had I known you would be a bit early,” you say, locking the door behind you. “I probably should have given you my number or something.”

Yoongi eyes you, his gaze sliding up and down your body like he’s drinking you in. You hope he likes what he sees. “I think I was so excited about the date that I forgot even to ask,” he admits, giving you a sheepish smile when his eyes finally land back on yours. “You look,” —he gives you another quick once over, shaking his head and sinking his teeth into his bottom lip— “gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” you preen under his praise. “You look quite handsome, yourself.”

You’re not just saying that to return the compliment, either. Yoongi is wearing the same thing he was this morning, except the tie is loosened, and the top button of his shirt is undone, giving you the slightest peek at his prominent jugular notch.

“Shall we?” he asks, offering you his arm.

You slip your hand into the bend of his elbow, falling into step beside him. The walk to the steak house is short, just enough for pleasant exchanges. He asks how your day at the coffee shop went, and you ask after his first day of classes. Neither of you bring up the fact that you were part of one of those classes.

“I’ve been meaning to check this place out. I’ve heard excellent things.”

Yoongi hums, nodding his head at your words. “I’ve also heard good things, though it might perhaps be biased considering all the praise I’ve heard has come from the owner himself.”

“You’ve spoken with the owner?”

“He’s one of my best friends, actually. This will be the first time I try it out. I kept telling him I’d stop by, but it always got away from me.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up. “I can’t believe you know Seokjin.”

“Wait, you know Seokjin?” Yoongi asks, surprised.

“I’d say know is a relative term. We get deliveries from the same produce truck. He tried to take my apples one time. I had to set him straight.” That makes Yoongi laugh along with you. “We chat sometimes, mostly about the quality of produce and the best places to get ingredients. I had no idea he was your friend.”

“Small world,” Yoongi says. His smile is warm and inviting. You’re sure you could get lost in it if he’d let you. It makes you wonder what his lips taste like. They have a slight sheen to them like they did this morning. Cherry chapstick? Maybe mint? A nice subtle vanilla?

You’re not sure the last time you laughed so hard you had tears in your eyes. But Yoongi has your sides in stitches and your cheeks aching from smiling and laughing so much during dinner.

“Oh gosh,” you wheeze between fits of giggling, clutching your stomach. “Ow, ow. Don’t make me laugh again. I can’t take it.” It just makes you laugh even more, the huffs trailing off as Yoongi reaches across the table toward you.

You pry your hands from your abdomen and slide them into his. His fingers are warm against yours, his thumbs rubbing across the backs of your knuckles. It’s a gesture he’s done several times tonight, silently asking for your hands any chance he could.

“Sorry, you just have such a beautiful laugh,” he says. “I could listen to it all day.”

His flattery hasn’t stopped. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think the two glasses of wine he had with dinner were going to his head. But, he speaks so assuredly and looks in your eyes like you’re truly something special.

Feeling so intimately connected with someone you barely know might be absurd. Yet, you can’t help but feel drawn to him. If you’re being honest, the attraction started long ago, and tonight has just made it blossom into something so much more.

Yoongi has been the perfect gentleman. He’s not tried to railroad the conversation or make decisions for you like other guys you’ve gone on dates with. Whenever a server approached the table, he would defer to you and your needs before his.

“You’ve been so wonderful to me tonight. Please let me repay you with coffee and dessert. If you’re up for it.”

Yoongi squeezes both your hands before letting them go and sitting back in his chair. “There is no need to ‘repay’ me,” he says, emphasizing the word repay. “But, I wouldn’t say no to a date after this date, say in fifteen minutes, coffee and dessert?”

“Fifteen minutes? Coffee and dessert?” You give him a thoughtful look, tapping your fingers against your chin. “Hmm. I think I’m available.” You both break into more fits of soft laughter, contrasting so highly to the high energy from before; it’s intimate, if laughing can be such a thing.

It’s easy being with Yoongi; he’s attentive and curious. “What made you want to open a coffee shop?” he asks as you unlock the door to the cafe.

“I liked the idea of having a space that could cater to people from all walks of life. Businessmen in a hurry? Get it to go. Students needing a place to study? I have a quiet corner for that. College professor looking for his daily decaf Americao fix? Would you look at that? I got that covered, too.” You usher him inside, closing and locking the door behind you. “It also doubles as a great place to have a private coffee and dessert date after a lovely dinner date.”

You watch as Yoongi looks around the cozy space, his attention ending on the mural wall. “What’s your favorite kind of coffee?”

“Would it be weird if I said I don’t like coffee?” you ask.

He glances at you from over his shoulder. “Really?”

You shrug. “I love the way it smells, though.”

“Acrylic?” Yoongi asks, nodding toward the mural.

“Good eye,” you assess, stepping behind the counter to start making the coffee. You grab two pecan cinnamon twirls from the dry storage where you keep extra treats to take up to your apartment at the end of each shift and pop them into the small convection oven along the back wall. “You teach art, but it might be presumptuous of me to assume you also create. So, do you?”

“Not nearly as much as I’d like to. Pastels and charcoal are my favorites to work with. I like the mildly messy, chaotic feel of them. There are few things better than the feeling of taking something so uncontrolled and turning it into a thing of beauty.”

“Charcoal, huh?” Your mind instantly goes to the framed collection of pieces you have in your apartment upstairs. “I can appreciate that.”

“Maybe I can show you sometime.” Yoongi turns from his appreciation of your mural to watch you work behind the counter. He gestures to a few frames hung up on either side of the giant menu on the wall. “Arfé, right?”

You glance up, moving with automated motions to load the portafilter into the espresso machine. “Oh,” you laugh. “Yeah. An experiment. I wanted to try something new and needed some new decor. I thought it was appropriately on theme.”

The half-dozen pieces are all made with swirls of various shades in brown and tan and depict a mix of cups, mugs, bags of grinds, lumps of sugar, and piles of roasted coffee beans.

“Very appropriate. They’re lovely. You’re an exceptional artist.” You’ve lost count of the amount of compliments Yoongi has paid you tonight. You might have been the one flattering him this morning, but it seems he’s making up for that now.

“Thank you. Truly. That means a lot coming from you.” The hiss of the brew machine fills the air, and the soft gurgle of espresso trickling into the small mug follows. “One decaf Americano for one of my best customers,” you say, carefully carrying the steaming cup over to a table beside Yoongi. “Please, sit.”

Yoongi settles at the table, bringing the cup of coffee up to his nose and giving it an appreciative sniff. “Wonderful,” he murmurs before taking a tentative sip. “Thank you, that hits the spot.”

“If you think the Americano is good, wait until you try this,” you say, scooping the twirls out of the oven and onto a plate. They’re perfectly warm and gooey. “You’ve never tried any of our pastries, have you?”

You sit across from him. The table is small enough that you could reach out and cup his cheek if you wanted, and set the plate on the table before Yoongi. He whistles low, “Wow, these do look amazing. Maybe I’ll become a pecan twirl and coffee guy every morning instead.”

Your eyes track his movements, watching as his fingers pinch and slightly sink into the edges of one of the twirls. Some of the warm glaze and cinnamon sugar filling squishes from between the layers.

Yoongi’s lips part and the tip of his tongue peaks over his bottom teeth as he brings the pastry up to take a bite. The moan he lets out surprises you both. His eyes flutter before landing on you and going wide. He chews methodically, his gaze not leaving yours. His tongue darts out, swiping over his lips before he swallows.

“Well?” you ask, settling your elbows on the table and leaning into him, expectant.

The smile that tugs at his lips is coy. “Might be one of the best things I’ve ever put in my mouth.” There is a heat in his gaze as his eyes search yours. “What other surprises do you have up your proverbial sleeve for me?”

“Now, if I told you, they wouldn’t be surprises anymore, would they?”

That makes him laugh. “Fair point. You know,” he glances around the coffee shop, “I never knew just what it was about this coffee shop I loved so much, but I think I’ve figured it out.”

“Yeah?” you say, feeling positively giddy.

“Mhm. So,” he mirrors your pose across the table, his elbows nearly touching your own, fingers toying with yours where they’re folded in the air in front of your face, “is it too soon to ask you on a second date?”

“I thought this was our second date.” You raise a teasing eyebrow, a smile quirking on your lips.

“A third then,” he offers, eyes hopeful.

Of course, you want to say yes. And in the spirit of trying to be coy and playful, you lean in with the full intent of showing him instead of telling him how much you want to go on another date.

Yoongi’s eyes flicker to your lips, watching as you deliberately lick them as you lean in a bit closer. Acceptance lies within their dark depths, a flash of hunger at the impending response that’s only a breath away.

As you advance, your elbows slide on the table, accidentally knocking the coffee cup. Liquid goes everywhere; it floods over the table and pours off the side…right into Yoongi’s lap.

“Oh fuck!” you yell, jumping up from the table and rushing around to his side. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay? Do I need to call an ambulance? Does it burn?”

Yoongi pushes back from the table, holding his arms up off his lap as he assesses the mess. “No harm done. It was already cooled off. It's just a bit of a mess, that’s all. I’m fine,” he laughs. “Truly, I promise. Do you have any towels or anything?”

“Oh god, your shirt, it’s going to stain,” you lament, staring at the dark splotch soaking through above his trousers. “Towels? Yes. Yes. Okay. And some baking soda. Come on, let’s hurry. Again, I’m so sorry!”

“Should we clean this up first?” he asks, motioning at the coffee-covered floor.

“I can mop in the morning. Please,” you fret, guilt making you a bit frantic and flustered.

Yoongi lets you lead him up the stairs in the back that go to your apartment. “You live here?” he questions. “No wonder you were coming out of the coffee shop earlier. That’s very cool.”

You make a noncommittal sound. “It’s cool if you like the smell of coffee and don’t mind rising early every day to open shop.”

It’s so hard to think right now, your mind solely focused on cleaning up the mess you’ve made of Yoongi’s clothes. That’s what you get for trying to be sly and answer his date question with a kiss. You’ll be lucky if he still wants that date now, surely.

The bathroom is barely big enough for the two of you. You insist Yoongi sit on the lip of the tub while you dig under the sink for the baking soda that you use for cleaning and removing your own coffee stains.

“Hey,” Yoongi says softly, grabbing your attention. You glance at him over your shoulder, bottom lip clamped between your teeth in an effort not to fall apart entirely. “I promise it’s okay, alright? You don’t have to stress over it. It’s just an accident. It's a pretty funny one if you ask me. If I’d have known we were getting wet on the first—I mean, second date, I would have planned accordingly.”

His words hang between you, full of static and charged with intention. He’s trying to lighten the mood…and it’s working. It’s also making you feel a certain kind of way. Words shouldn’t have the power to do that. Yet, here you are, flustered for a whole different reason now.

“Date’s not over yet,” you respond, unsure where the bold attitude came from, but you’ll take it. His eyes flicker with something like surprise mixed with desire, though it’s gone before you can really be sure. “Do you mind?” You gesture to his shirt. “It’ll be easier if I can soak it in the sink.”

Slowly, Yoongi undoes the buttons on his shirt, starting at the top and working his way down. Somehow, you weren’t expecting him to be naked underneath, but every open button reveals another swath of flesh. He shrugs out of the shirt, revealing a toned chest and taut belly. His nipples are hard, dark chips, standing out in contrast to his smooth, creamy skin. Yoongi is absolutely breathtaking.

In fact, you have to remind yourself to breathe, taking in a large lungful of air that’s so much it makes your chest ache. He holds the shirt out to you in offering. Your fingers tremble lightly as you take it, quickly turning back to the sink and the distraction of scrubbing at the stain.

Reading over the garment tag quickly, you make sure what you’re about to do is okay. You can feel Yoongi’s eyes on your back, like heated dagger points pricking beneath your skin. You turn on the water, letting the tap run until it’s hot, before quickly swishing the area of the shirt covered in coffee under it. The hot water alone makes a world of difference, the dark liquid swirling away down the drain.

“Do you want my pants, too?” Yoongi asks, startling you.

Your eyes flick up to the mirror, looking at him through the reflection. He’s talking to you, but his attention is zeroed in on your backside. Suddenly, you’re intimately aware that your dress has ridden up dangerously high. You can feel the cool air of the bathroom kissing the crease between your thigh and asscheek.

Turning off the water, you slowly turn to face him. Your chest rises and falls as you try to take deep, even breaths, but with the way your heart is revving inside, it’s impossible to do so. “Let’s see the damage,” you say lightly, raising an eyebrow in question, giving him a chance to call you off.

When he doesn’t comment further, you close the distance to where he’s sitting and ease down onto your knees. You mentally tell yourself it’s so you can get a better look at the coffee that’s saturating the dark fabric, but you know better than that.

Being so close to him, you can feel the heat of his body. His chest rises and falls as rapidly as yours, and when you look up and meet his gaze, there is no mistaking the fire that you see blazing there. “Don’t think I forgot you still haven’t answered my question,” he murmurs, lips barely moving as he watches you.

You lift a hand, hooking your index finger under his chin and using it to angle his face toward yours. “I’d love that,” you respond, your lips brushing over his with every syllable.

He kisses you. Or maybe you kiss him. It’ll be something you tease each other over for many years to come. You open yourself to him, welcoming the glide of his tongue against yours. The kiss tastes mildly of coffee, yet for the first time in your life, you don’t mind the flavor.

“For me to take my pants off, or the date?” he teases, alternating between nipping and consuming kisses. Yoongi’s hands frame your face, holding you to him as he continues to ravage your mouth.

“Mm, both,” you manage to get out. “Definitely both.” Sliding your hands down his torso, you marvel at the softness of his skin and the already very prominent bulge that your fingers dance over as you try to get a grip on the button to his slacks.

Yoongi breaks away from the kiss long enough to help you with his pants, standing up from the edge of the tub and bringing you up with him. He toes off his shoes, leaving his pants puddled on top of them. “Good answer,” he chuckles.

You let out a tiny squeal as he wraps his hands around the backs of your thighs and hauls you up, your legs automatically winding around his waist. Thick erection pressed right against your panty-covered pussy, he slowly walks you out of the bathroom and into your adjoining room. You land on the bed with a soft oomph, Yoongi following you down. His weight is a comfort, settled over your body in a warm, hedonistic embrace.

“I’ll change classes,” you pant, flexing your hips against his. “As long as our next date is to an art gallery.”

“Is it weird for that to turn me on?” he responds, groaning as you roll your hips against him again. “The art part, not the dropping classes part. You don’t have to do that if it’s too much trouble. I know your schedule must be pretty set with the cafe.”

You press your hands against his chest, giving him a gentle push until he’s rolling over and you’re hovering over him. “I’ll make it work. I want to make it work. Everything tonight,” you pause and sit back on your heels, dragging your hands along his torso as you do, “I want more. You’re driving me crazy in the best of ways.”

“Says the woman who’s been running through my thoughts for the last several months now.” Yoongi’s lips part in a gasp, turning his last word into a breathly plea as you trace the tips of your fingers over his straining erection. The fabric of his grey boxer briefs is slightly sticky when you brush your thumb over the head.

“It reminds me of making art,” you casually say, curling your fingers over the waistband of his underwear and tugging until he lifts his hips and lets you drag them down. You toss them to the side, marveling at the glory now resting against his belly. Yoongi’s cock is a gentle upward curve, all smooth steel and thick veins. It throbs, bouncing against his stomach, leaving behind a thick smear of precum. “The way you make me feel.”

“Art?” he asks, breathless. His eyes flutter behind his glasses, his chest hollowing as he sucks in ragged breaths.

“Being with you gives me the same feeling as viewing a Duncanson or a Matisse, calm and full of joy. Though, you can also make me feel the chaos of a Kandinsky when you touch me.” To emphasize your words, you wrap your fingers around his girth, angling it up, watching the emotions on his face. The tip of his tongue works at the corner of his mouth, lips parted with every pant and soft moan. “Is this okay?” you ask, leaning down and gently blowing over the leaking tip before tentatively giving it a kitten lick.

“More than,” Yoongi moans. His eye slide closed as you wrap your lips around the head and suck. The flavor of him bursts across your tongue. You can’t help but moan yourself at the idea you’ve made him like this, hard and leaking.

Working as much of his cock into your mouth as you can, you delight in the shuddering convulses you can feel from his body as he loses himself in the sensations you’re bringing him. Yoongi always seems like such a collected individual. He still appeared so well-kept even when he stuttered over his words asking you on the date this morning. Now, though, he’s unraveling into a puddle of debauchery.

It’s a satisfying feeling, similar to when you get into a perfect rhythm when working on a project, bringing him to the edge. You work your mouth and hand in tandem, never leaving an inch of his cock free of your touch.

“Mmm,” you moan, the head of his cock resting in the back of your throat. Yoongi jerks under you, half raising onto his elbows, his eyes zeroing in on where you’re wrapped around him.

His fingers twist into the duvet, bottom lip puffy and flushed as he worries it with his teeth. “I’m going to cum,” he grunts, throwing his head back and moaning his pleasures, deep and throaty.

You quicken your pace, hollowing your cheeks as you suck in earnest. Yoongi cries out a second before liquid warmth floods your mouth. It’s greedy, the way you swallow and continue to lave your tongue over him, eliciting tiny tremors and more moans.

“Just like art,” you whisper, finally letting his cock slip from between your lips. You’re riding your own high, wet and throbbing between your thighs. You can feel the ache in your clit, begging to be touched. All it would take is a few seconds, a few well-placed swirls of your fingers, and you know you’d be floating in orgasmic bliss.

Before you can even think of bringing your hand between your thighs to find relief, Yoongi is sitting up and urging you backward. Your back hits the mattress, and he settles on his side beside you. Somewhere between there and here, he pulled off his glasses. Despite having just found his release, his eyes are still so full of hunger and desire.

“May I?” he asks, pressing a hand against your inner thigh. You nod, eyes locked with his as he slowly trails his hand upward until his fingers brush over the soaked fabric of your panties. “You are so beautiful,” he whispers, leaning in to capture your mouth in a languid kiss. Your lids flutter closed, consumed as you are by his touch.

Yoongi takes his time, toying with the edge of your panties before tugging them down past your knees. They pool around your ankles as he pushes your thighs apart, exposing your weeping pussy to the air of the bedroom.

“Yoongi.” His name is half moan, half curse as he brings his hand back up and cups your heat. The meat of his palm rests against your clit, right where you need to be touched, but the pressure isn’t enough to satisfy.

“An exquisite work of art.” His lips strum against yours, plucking and teasing just the way his fingers do through your wetness. The tips of his fingers briefly kiss your clit, dancing away before returning; a slow build of decadent pleasure.

It’s not above you to beg. “Please. Yoongi, please!”

“Open your eyes, look at me. Let me watch you fall apart so I can brand it into my memory.”

You snap open your eyes the exact moment he slides two slender fingers into your pussy, thumb finally giving the needed pressure to your clit. You’re so worked up that your body pulses around the intrusion, a tiny fluttering orgasm rippling through you.

“Fuck,” you whimper.

Yoongi gives you a wicked, knowing smile. “It’s not over yet, beautiful,” he assures you in a whispered promise.

His fingers are long, able to reach the perfect, special place inside you. As he strokes his fingertips, moving them in an undulating wave, his thumb swirls in a circle around your clit.

The next orgasm is less surprising, building to a heightened peak that has you crying out as you careen over the edge, entirely at Yoongi’s mercy. “Yoongi, fuck!” you babble, your whole body alive with sensations of pleasure.

“That’s it,” he coaxes. “So beautiful.”

Your body shudders around his hand, his fingers slowing down their rhythm until you finally recover. The slide of his fingers along your walls as he withdraws makes you wish he’d put them back in…or maybe something else. The bereft feeling lasts only a moment before Yoongi gathers you into his arms. He’s completely naked, and you’re still wearing your dress, but you feel just as exposed as he is…only, it’s your soul on display for him instead of your body.

You wait for the feeling of vulnerability to filter in, that broken feeling of uncertainty. But, it doesn’t come. The only thing you feel is complete and utter content. It’s not even the post-orgasmic bliss that’s clouding it, either. No, there’s plenty of that, but it feels different; he feels different.

“Yoongi,” you begin, resting your cheek on his chest. You want to confess to him, but the words get choked in your throat. Is it too soon? Are you completely crazy? What if he doesn’t feel the same way? Fuck. Here goes nothing. “This feels good, really good. Is it too soon to say…?”

“Too soon to say?” he prompts.

You absently trace haphazard swirls and lines across his chest, trying to think of how to word it. “I, well…”

“Too soon to say that I think possibly, maybe, I’m falling for you?” You look up at him, surprised by his words. Yoongi looks at you with so much warmth and affection in his eyes. “Because that’s exactly how I feel, too.”

◅ Back to Main Master List ©️   2023-12-30 ColorMePurplex2

[bvidzsoo]

Love Me Like A Rockstar (13)

ー☆ Chapter 13: You Know Me Too Well

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

ー☆ Warning: cursing, usage of the word 'bitch' ー☆ Word count: 6.5k ー☆ Genre: university!au, enemies to lovers!au, rockstar!au ー☆ Rating: sfw ー☆ Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: Well, well, lovelies...new chapter is up and maybe I'm kind of kicking my feet??? Who knows, we'll see what y'all think of this chapter hehe. Also, happy birthday to Song Mingi?! I actually didn't mean to post the new chapter today, but today was the only day I had enough time to write it sooo, yeah. Tmi, but MC's mother is exactly like my mom, so maybe I drew inspiration from real life lol, I love her to death but sometimes I really wish SHE DIDNT SPEAK lol. Also, I'm so obsessed with today's song for the chapter; I'm screaming, crying, throwing up over it LOL. Just a heads up, next chapter is the last like actual chapter of the series and then I decided to add an epilogue lol cue the sobbing. As per usual, listen to You Know Me Too Well before or while reading the chapter! I hope you enjoy and let me know through feedback hehe <3 Enjoy your weekends! divider

Taglist: @orshii @or5i @lovely-red2 @scarfac3 @juicy-red

@sunaswifes-blog @voicesinmyhead-rc @teez-the-time @maru-matt @kyeos4ng

@deathbyyeekies @chicksmoothie @mjlbn01 @xhexy @tmtxtf

@hwashiningstar @thatfavouritesong @ateez-atiny380 @xciiiomwliah @vixensss

@catchingskzzzs @tesssaurrr @ginger-mingi @mingisbbg

⟨Series M.list ↭ Previous Chapter⟩

♫Playlist♫

            Saturday (2:55 pm)

Me: mingi can we talk?

Saturday (8:30 pm)

Me: i am free whenever you say so just let me know and i’ll be there

            Sunday (9:15 am)

Me: we need to talk, mingi.

            Sunday (12:08 am)

Me: please hear me out im sorry

Monday (current time)

            “Do you think he’ll slam the door in my face?” The hallways were buzzing with life as I tried to veer my way around the crowd of students without running into anyone. Today, out of all days, I just so happened to have my last class of the day in a completely different building and at least a good five-minute walk away from the arts building.

“It’s what you’d deserve, to be fair, but—” The was a gasp on the other side of the phone and my eyebrows furrowed as Seulgi muttered something to someone, muffled, “sorry, Wooyoung almost dropped my mother’s favorite vase, I told him to take off that blindfold.”

Eyebrows furrowing even deeper, I abruptly stopped walking, making a girl give me a heated glare that I didn’t care for, “Why is he blindfolded? Wait! I actually don’t want to know.”

“We were playing hide and seek with his niece, you idiot, but I got bored and sneaked away when I saw you calling.” Seulgi’s voice was exasperated and I chuckled as I took off again, leaving the science major’s building as I nuzzled further into my thick scarf. Some days it was warmer, but most days it got really cold and I hated it. I couldn’t deal with the freezing weather, perhaps it was my biggest enemy after Jeong Yunho, “Anyways, as I was saying, you deserve to be ignored by Mingi, but knowing how big of a sucker he is for you, he’ll probably give in before you can utter a single word.”

My heart jumped at the thought as I gnawed on my bottom lip, cutting off the path as I hurried through the grass, uncaring that I was probably destroying the work of the gardener. Besides, the grass had barely just started growing out again, it would be fine, “You think so?”

“I know so.” I heard Wooyoung’s high-pitched voice shouting from the distance and my eyebrows furrowed as I realized Seulgi had probably put me on speaker. Now that was a bit awkward, “He’s an idiot, but he’s in love. Now that I come to think of it, you two are a lot alike, two idiots in love—”

“I believe your niece is looking for you, babe.” Seulgi cut her boyfriend off and I was thankful because I don’t think I could’ve handled hearing him say the words ‘in love’ again. That was scary, even just the thought of it. I was barely coming to terms with liking Mingi, but hearing the word love sort of made me want to turn back around and abandon my whole plan of trying to make peace between the two of us. And Seulgi knew this, thankfully, because she didn’t say anything about it again, “Are you on your way to his studio right now?”

I hummed and curled my fingers tighter around the thermos bottle, my nose cold from the weather as the arts building finally came into sight, “Yeah, three minutes and I’m there.”

“Good.” Seulgi sounded content and I sighed as I tried to ignore the dawning anxiety that tried to crawl through my body and make me abandon my well-thought-out plan. I had to do this. Seulgi and my mom were right, I couldn’t mess this up again. I liked Mingi, a lot. He is a good guy and I shouldn’t let my past and my fears dictate my life. Yes, Mingi is Yunho’s best friend, but Mingi isn’t like Yunho. Hopefully, “Update me later then, I love you Y/N, I hope you know that.”

I chuckled and nodded at the security guard as he was out of his cubicle, standing at the bottom of the steps, smoking his cigar, “I know, thank you for knocking some sense into me.”

“We’ll see about that later.” Her snort was amused and I shook my head as we said our goodbyes, the warmth of the building making me sigh out in relief as I entered through the front doors. I pocketed my phone and unwrapped my scarf from around my neck, greeting the familiar people I crossed paths with. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t feeling nervous at all, after all, I didn’t know how Mingi would react. If he was anything like me, he wouldn’t forgive me so easily. Not when I’ve hurt him again and in the worst way possible.

As I ascended the marble stairs, I found stability in the thermos bottle clutched firmly in both of my hands now, its weight helping me to keep my determination and focus on going through with my own plan. When I woke this morning and went to take a quick shower, I was surprised to hear my mother’s singing and smell the delicious waft of pancakes, making my stomach growl loudly as I didn’t have dinner the night before. It seemed like my mother had taken a day off, grumbling something about her deserving a day to rest after she was almost choked out by one of her mentally ill patients. I couldn’t help but agree with her as we sat at the table in silence, enjoying our breakfast, that is until she cleared her throat loudly and stood up, fetching a mug and a cup from the counter next to the sink. I froze when I realized she was handing me the cup Mingi had designed with funny looking chicks on it, and I was even more confused when I realized it wasn’t coffee I was drinking, but hot chocolate.

“So, what are you going to do about that handsome fella?” I tried not to groan or regret the fact that I told her everything about Mingi. I took a tentative sip of the hot chocolate and realized it wasn’t hot before taking a bigger gulp as I enjoyed its sweet taste.

“I’ll talk to him today—”

“Great!” My mother didn’t even let me finish as she sprung up from her seat again to fetch something from a cupboard, “It’s amazing how strong our maternal intuition is, I swear my starlight, you should make some babies soon.”

“Mom.” I groaned as I watched her curiously as she took a blue thermos bottle from the cupboard and filled it with hot chocolate from the kettle, “We’ve had this discussion many times before, I’m not having children so young.”

“You’re not that young though.” She sent me a sheepish smile as my eyes widened, feigning hurt.

“I’m turning twenty-three?! How is that not young?” She cleared her throat as she sealed the thermos and walked back to the table to sit down.

“I’m just trying to inspire you, anyways,” She huffed and then placed the thermos on the table and pushed it towards me, “Bring this to him as peace offering, he’ll love it. Trust me.”

“I don’t think what Mingi needs right now is hot chocolate—”

“Finish your breakfast and shut up.” My mother didn’t let me finish as she cut off a thick part of the pancake with her fork and forced it inside my mouth, making me groan, “Mothers know best when it comes to stuff like this, be thankful I’m saving your relationship and be back before lunch. I’m ordering take out, and I certainly am not waiting for late your ass if I’m hungry.”

I knew fighting my mom was fruitless, so I just grumbled an okay as I tried to chew the pancake she had forced in my mouth, my cheeks all puffed out. My mother seemed content that I finally wasn’t talking back to her and I shook my head as I pulled the thermos bottle towards me, reminded of the time when Mingi had brought me tea knowing that I would be feeling probably a little sick after getting all soaked in the cold rain and harsh wind.

So, now, with Mingi’s clothes in my tote bag and the thermos filled with hot chocolate in my hands, I couldn’t help but feel optimistic despite the anxiety gripping at my thoughts. If my mother, Seulgi, and even Wooyoung—who knew Mingi like the back of his hand—were convinced that everything would work out just fine, then why would I not believe that? Sure, Mingi was probably still annoyed at me, but I didn’t think a few apologies and even more explanations couldn’t fix the issue at hand. All I had to do was be honest and come clean with my feelings and he’d probably do the same and then—that’s where anxiety stepped in. Then what? Was I ready to pursue a relationship? Did Mingi want to date me? Did I want to date him? Why did it have to be Jeong Yunho’s best friend I was into? Why could I not move past my fears and stop associating Mingi with everything I was wounded by, when he never once made me feel like Yunho did? I could dwell on these thoughts for an eternity, I fear, but I didn’t have that time right now. And to be fair, I didn’t want to think of such things right now because I could feel my determination wither the closer I got to the music majors’ floor, heartbeat loud in my ears.

I stopped at the end of the hallway and took a deep breath, eyes settling on the studio I knew now was used by Mingi only. Wooyoung was nice enough to tell me the number of his studio—not that I had forgotten since the last time I was here—and he also let me know that it was used by Mingi only, the teachers having granted him full access, even at hours when students were supposed to be at home. It seems so Mingi was a favorite amongst the teachers, and I could see why. He was diligent and hard-working; his lyrics were beautiful and nothing would stop him from fulfilling his dream of becoming a well-known rockstar. I couldn’t help but feel excited at the prospect of that, and hoped that I would be part of his journey, that he’d let me back into his life.

Steeling my nerves and trying to see the light at the end of the tunnel, I knew there was no turning back. I wanted to do this, I had to do this. I had to stop sabotaging myself, and so, I marched down the hallway towards Mingi’s studio with a newfound hope and determination. Which lasted about five seconds as I came face to face with Mingi’s studio door. There was a small window on it, which would let you know whether the room was occupied or not, and it was straight across the desk where he was sat at—with the blonde girl standing right next to him. And that should have been okay, because really, Mingi could talk to whoever and spend his time also with whoever he pleased. And it’s not like I didn’t have male friends—I didn’t, Seulgi was my only friend—it’s not like he couldn’t speak to one of his fans. After all, he’s made it clear she was nothing more than a fan he appreciated for helping spread the word about his band.

But then, why was her hand on his shoulder one second and the next second slowly trailing down the sleeve of his beige cardigan—which looked like it was messily stained with paint—and certainly the way my good disposal dissipated and was overtaken by blind jealousy and rage had nothing to do with the sudden possessiveness that shook me to my core. And perhaps the thing that bothered me the most wasn’t even her feeling up Mingi’s arm as she looked down at him with sultry eyes, perhaps it was the way Mingi leaned back in his chairs, legs spread wide, and smirk on his lips as he looked up at her with his sharp gaze, allowing her to touch him. Perhaps that’s what sent me over the edge as I barged inside the studio in the most unceremonious way, making the girl yelp in fright and Mingi flinch as his eyes widened.

『Baby, you're all that I want

I want you all to myself

Oh, but you know me too well』

And when I was angry—or panicking, or hurt—all rational thoughts flew out the window as I was led by nothing else but pure instinct and a shit ton of unclear and not so necessarily nice thoughts. Simpler put, I wasn’t thinking nor making sense, but I couldn’t care less as I glared at the both of them while I struggled to mask the fury licking at my veins. They were both looking at me wide eyed, as if I had caught them doing something I wasn’t supposed to, and that made me snap before I could think through how to proceed with this whole shitshow, “Get out.”

For a second, even I didn’t recognize my voice as it dropped a few octaves, fierce gaze set on the blonde girl as she paled, eyes scrambling between Mingi and me as, suddenly, Mingi seemed to snap out of whatever scare I had given him by slamming his door open and into the wall. God, I hope I haven’t actually damaged it, because I certainly didn’t have the money to pay for it right now. I couldn’t look at the blonde girl anymore, heart beating fast in my chest as Mingi and I made eye contact, his eyebrows set in a deep frown as he had a sneer on his face.

“Excuse me?” God, even her voice was annoying. I looked back at the blonde girl and raised my eyebrows at her mockingly.

“Are you deaf?” I chuckled, but it was humorless, “Do I need to repeat myself?”

She huffed, looking offended—rightfully so—and I gritted my teeth as I stepped inside the studio, making it pretty obvious that I wasn’t going anywhere before this bitch left. I tried not to see red as Mingi’s hands balled up into fists or the way the girl snickered, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“You’re the one that’s barged inside uninvited, sweetheart,” And if I could have, I would have ripped her blonde strands out, “this isn’t your fucking studio, so, shut up. Mingi wants me here, maybe you should leave.”

I bit my bottom lip to stop myself from laughing, somewhere deep in my mind realizing I looked absolutely psychotic and if Mingi didn’t hate me before, he certainly would hate me now. I wasn’t helping myself; I was making everything worse—just the usual, then. But this bitch wasn’t stopping me from getting what I came here for, and I hummed as my eyes fell on Mingi again, who’s jaw was clenching and unclenching. His sharp eyes were narrowed, but it seemed like he wasn’t saying anything anytime soon and that only pissed me off more.

“Sure,” I nodded and walked further inside, forcefully throwing my tote bag on the small couch against the wall on my left, making the contents of it spill out. I watched as both Mingi and the girl looked at the clothes, and Mingi’s expression flashed with something unreadable for a second, “Mingi wants you here.”

I suppose neither expected me not to stop until I reached the desk, coming up on Mingi’s left side as I slammed the thermos bottle—albeit too harshly—against the desk, a loud bang echoing in the room. Mingi’s eyebrows furrowed as I opened my mouth to tell the girl to leave again, but suddenly, he was up on his feet, staring me down. The height difference wasn’t that great between the two of us, but suddenly I felt small under his heated glare and sneer that seemed to settle on his lips, broad shoulders intimidating as he lowered his head just a little bit. He looked nothing like the Mingi I had gotten to know over the past few months, and it made my heart race as I realized I might not be able to reason with him today, “What the fuck is your problem, Y/N?! You tell her to get out when you barge in unwelcomed, and then start demanding for her to leave—”

I couldn’t even let him finish his sentence before I was firing back my argument, “Oh, what’s my fucking problem?! Maybe the fact that you lied to me?”

“About what?!” Mingi snapped, eyebrows furrowed as he took a step towards me, his body big enough to make the blonde girl not be seen behind him.

“Oh, be for real.” I scoffed and rolled my eyes, “You never show anyone your songs to? But you so conveniently let me listen to that unfinished song of yours and now look who else gets to listen to it? Her. If you’re so desperate to get laid, you should have—”

“I didn’t show her shit.” Mingi cut me off, voice shaking as his cheeks grew red from anger, probably. Mingi wasn’t a scary person, but he looked scary right now. There was no ounce of kindness in his expression nor tone, he looked cold and angry and like he hated me. I gulped and realized, once again, that I was digging myself deeper into the shithole I had created for myself, that I was hurting him again and again. This is not how things were supposed to go, “I only showed you. That unfinished song you’re talking about, only you know about it. Thanks for reminding me again why I shouldn’t deal with you anymore—”

“Stop it.” I snapped, eyebrows furrowing as I felt fear grip at my throat, making my voice sound shaky as Mingi’s expression went blank. I hated when he did that. I wanted to know what he was thinking about, I needed to see what he felt. I couldn’t do this if he withdrew himself, I couldn’t do this if I was the only one that would bare her heart to him. I was scared. He was pushing me away like Yunho had done, Mingi was abandoning me.

“Stop it?” If I wanted to cry when he laughed in my face mockingly, impassive smirk settling on his lips, I didn’t let it happen. I kept my composure, anger, hurt, desperation, yearning all mixing together as I found it harder and harder to breathe, “You want me to be nice to you after all the shit you said to me on Saturday? You want me to treat you like before after everything that’s happened? I can’t. You hurt me, made me feel like a fucking idiot, Y/N, you broke—I thought we were friends. I feel disrespected and played, and yet here you are again, acting like you have even an ounce of right to act the way you are right now, when it’s you who made it so fucking clear you want nothing to do with me anymore. Do you enjoy making others suffer? Do you want to see me on my fucking knees begging for your attention? I have enough self-respect to step back and move on with my life when someone so blatantly tells it to my face that I am nothing—”

“But you aren’t!” My tone raised without me meaning to as my heart continued to beat out of my chest so fast my ears started ringing. I felt tears prick at my eyes, but I didn’t want to cry. I didn’t want to victimize myself, I just wanted Mingi to understand I made a mistake, that I knew I did, and that I was trying to fix things. I didn’t want us to part ways, especially not like this, he made me realize this second that I didn’t want to lose him, “You aren’t nothing to me. I said those things because I’m scared. I don’t know how to navigate these feelings—”

“Save it, okay?” I was left gaping as Mingi shook his head, pushing his hands in the pockets of his light denim jeans, “I don’t want to hear whatever sob shit you have to say right now, I’m asking you kindly to leave before I call security and delete my number, like I have deleted yours.”

The silence that settled upon us was deafening and my eyebrows furrowed as a tear rolled down my cheek without warning, my chest rising and falling rapidly as I tried to find my breath. That hurt, it hurt more than anything before, it hurt more than when Yunho left me, broke my heart. Mingi meant so much more to me than Yunho ever did, and I bit my lower lip as Mingi seemed unaffected, expression blank and rather bored. Nothing was making sense anymore. I was scared, but I also felt ready to break free of the chains of the past, I wanted Mingi. And knowing all this, I didn’t want to hold back anymore, I didn’t want to consider my next words anymore. I just wanted to speak my mind freely.

“My ex-boyfriend is Jeong Yunho, your best friend.” Mingi had almost turned away from me, but he froze, head slowly turning back to face me once again, “We dated back in high school, many years ago, when we were still some headless and stupid teenagers. But he was the first boy I’ve ever loved and he fucking broke my heart, shattered into pieces with a bright smile on his lips. He promised me many things, and I was naïve, so I believed it all. And because I did, I ended up hurt beyond fixing and I’ve never trusted a man again. He was my first boyfriend and the center of my universe, yet he never cared enough about me to properly break up with me.

“Yunho talked about you all the time. Everything you liked, everything you hated, you were part of our daily conversations and I always wished to meet you, to see what was so great in you that had Yunho gushing all the time. I was jealous, so jealous that I became bitter. I started hating even the mention of your name, I selfishly wanted Yunho to myself, and you gone from his life. I couldn’t understand what was so great about you and why I wasn’t enough. I knew Yunho didn’t love me, but I wanted him to, so I made myself believe it, believe that I was worth more to him than you’ll ever be. And in the process, I stupidly made myself believe that he’d never leave me, that he was the one for me like he has said so many times before.

“He broke my heart so fucking bad that it took years until I could say his name or even see his face again. I am over him now, have been for a long time, but I can’t help still feel bitter about him. I can’t help but associate you with him at times. He made me defensive and untrusting of men, I couldn’t help but assume you’d be just like Yunho when I first met you, at least when I finally realized who you were. I felt so guilty, I tried to push you away but you wouldn’t fucking give up. You are everything yet nothing like Yunho and that scares me, because I want you, Mingi. But I’m scared you’ll abandon me like Yunho did, that you’ll fill my head with empty and pretty fantasies and then leave me alone with them, tearing my heart apart in the process. I want to open up, but I’m scared. I think, however, with you by my side, I’d be able to do that, to let my walls down.”

The silence that settled upon us, once again, was deafening and I gulped, heart racing and making me feel lightheaded as Mingi’s face had fallen, expression finally not as void as before. He looked shocked, but surprisingly, he didn’t look hurt nor like he would hate me for ever. It made me hopeful for a second, it made me sniff loudly and blink away the insisting tears from my eyes. He gulped and took a deep breath, making me stare in his eyes, hopeful and less scared, as he sighed and rubbed at his chin; a stubble was showing. Now that I come to think of it, he looks rather tired with bags under his eyes, and his platinum hair has a blue hue to it.

“I’m sorry he made you go through so much; I know it wasn’t easy.” Mingi’s tone finally lost the edge it had before, finally it wasn’t laced with so much anger, and it almost made me cry, “I kind of—I knew. Not exactly the whole thing, but I suppose I can say I had a feeling that there was history between you and Yunho. It was too obvious whenever I brought him up that you didn’t like him, at first I was confused, but then I suppose everything just clicked into place. The drawing of his eyes, the sweater you lent me and the fact that you gave it to me in the end—I’ve known since then that it was probably Yunho. I never said anything to him, not like that at least, I wanted you to come to me on your own, when you fully trusted me with the information. And I’m sorry, but he—he was an asshole back in high school, he was insecure and he played with everyone’s feelings, he was quite good at manipulating people around him. He’s mentioned dating you, but very few times, and by the time you had broken up I had all but forgotten about you, I suppose I wasn’t much better compared to him.

“But all of this isn’t my fault in the end, and while I completely understand your reasoning now and why you often acted the way you did, I’m sorry, but I can’t just let go of things and start anew. There’s just—too many things that have happened, emotions that you stirred up in me, and I just can’t do it, I—it’s not even about you and Yunho, I don’t give a fuck about it, it was ages ago and Yunho is a changed man and I know he’s long moved on. And you too, I believe you have, you seemed less bitter lately, but I just can’t. I can’t help but ask again, what do you want, YN?”

At least he wasn’t mad at me, but I did feel ashamed that I made him piece everything together on his own, that I wasn’t capable of telling him the truth myself. I have made mistakes, sure, but Mingi apparently didn’t hate me for them, “I just want to apologize, for everything.”

Mingi nodded and I watched in despair as that cold mask slipped back onto his face, expression void of any emotion once again. It made me want to grab his shoulders and shake them, force him to look deep into my eyes and just see everything I felt for him, “That’s fine, I accept your apology. If that’s all, you can leave—”

“But that’s not all!” I snapped, having had enough of being dismissed by him. I saw the way his jaw twitched, the way his eyebrows furrowed at my defiance, at my reluctance to leave just yet. I was being pathetic and a pain in the ass, but I had to make him understand that I was ready to leave all my fears behind for him, to learn how to be a better person next to him. I wanted to change, and I wanted it to happen with him by my side, with him guiding me and teaching me how to be more like him, and less like the shitty person I was for so long. I longed to be the way I was before meeting Yunho, a lot happier and a lot less broody and hateful of the beautiful things that surrounded me, “Mingi, I cannot stop thinking about you. I spend every waking moment when we’re apart wondering what you’re up to, what’s going through your mind, whether you’re okay or not. And I’ve been drawing you, since the first time I saw you, you’ve captured my attention, you’ve made me curious of who you were the longer we spent time together. I don’t want to be like this anymore, I don’t want to hurt you anymore and shut you out, I want to fix everything. I want to—I just want you, Mingi.”

There was a quiet scoff behind Mingi, but neither one of us reacted to it as our gazes bore into each other, my eyes glinting with yearning and his façade slowly breaking down as he released a shaky breath, “Mingi, I adore you.”

“Get out.” For a second, my body froze as I thought he was addressing me, but then, he whirled around and pointed towards the studio’s still open door, “Get out, now.”

And I just realized that the blonde girl had been witness to everything, and I couldn’t help but blanch in embarrassment as she made to interject, but I guess Mingi’s sharp eyes made her reconsider her choice as she huffed and then stormed out of the studio. My cheeks felt hot and I realized the clothes were making me sweaty, so as Mingi hurried towards the door to close it, I shrugged my jacket off and placed it neatly on the back of the sofa together with my thick scarf. And as I looked up, mouth dry as the door clicked shut and Mingi turned around, it felt like time stopped, like the world stopped moving. But Mingi was moving towards me, in nothing more than three steps he stood in front of me, and before I could even as much as try to reason with him or plead more to be forgiven, warm fingers dug into my cheeks and the wind was knocked from my lungs as his plush warm lips slammed against mine, making me gasp as my eyes remained wide open.

『Filthy impetuous soul

I wanna give it to you』

I thought he wouldn’t want anything to do with me, I thought he’d tell me that he needed time to forgive me completely and for us to work things out. But I couldn’t help shudder and feel ecstatic as I grabbed the collar of his shirt and cardigan, my eyes falling shut, as I pulled him closer to my body, savoring the kiss as if it was our first. But it wasn’t anything like that one, it wasn’t soft nor careful nor slow, it was hurried and desperate as Mingi pushed me backward, pressing me against the wall, right between the small space between the sofa and the desk. My arms circled his neck as he grabbed my nape with one big hand and pressed his other into the small of my back, making it arch as my fingers tangled into his soft hair, not pulling, just feeling the need to hold onto something, to keep myself grounded.

And much like the first time, our lips seemed to fit perfectly, and I tried not to keen when he sucked my bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling on the soft flesh, and I tried not to turn into a puddle when he hummed lowly against my lips as my fingers flexed in his hair. Perhaps I kissed him a bit harder and more aggressively as our pace quickened, my hand holding the side of his neck as Mingi pressed his body into mine until it felt like he was trying to forbid me even of the idea of escaping from his clutches, and I had no fucking intention of going anywhere, because in his arms I felt content and safe, and perhaps a bit too hot as goosebumps covered my arms the longer our lips moved hungrily against each other. And when I cupped his cheeks and perhaps held onto them a bit too firmly, his lips parted, and I ignored my lungs screaming for air as my tongue slipped past his parted mouth. I didn’t expect him to moan as our tongues tangled together, all wet and perhaps a little disgusting, but neither one of us cared about that.

I tried to stand on my tip toes for better access as Mingi’s ring clad fingers were suddenly running through my hair and tilting my head back, making my skin tingle where he held my hip firmly. I had been kissed by other people before, but neither felt like with Mingi, neither made me crave more and more and more. But our lungs could only go on so long without air, and I would’ve been embarrassed for the loud gasp I let out when we finally parted, if it wasn’t for Mingi diving straight for my neck and finding the sweet spot that made me putty in his arms. And I tried to ignore his deep grunts as my fingers got tangled in his platinum blonde strands as he pressed open mouthed and wet kisses against my neck, his arms around my hips pulling me into an embrace that had my pulse showing through the skin of my neck. My lips were tingling and my lungs actually hurt, but I couldn’t care less when Mingi finally pulled back and blinked his dark eyes open, pupils dilated and lips so swollen he almost made me chase after them once again.

『Oh, just to see what you'd do

'Cause I'm so drunk on you』

“What’s in the thermos?” His voice was raspier than usual, and it made me bite my bottom lip as my eyes searched his face, his falling on my lips instead.

“Hot chocolate, for peace making.” I answered, sounding a lot more breathless than I actually felt, and Mingi chuckled, the sound deep in his throat. I let my arms fall from his shoulders and instead circled them around his torso, trying to fight off the smile from my lips. Mingi didn’t look angry nor dismissive anymore, but I knew I wasn’t actually forgiven just yet. And that was only fair.

“This is peacemaking, not the hot chocolate.” And there it was, the mischievous glint in his eyes and the smug smirk on his lips as he squeezed my hips once and lowered his face until our lips brushed together, “Although I do appreciate the hot chocolate too.”

“Good, my mom was rather excited when she told me to give it to you.” I pressed a chaste kiss against Mingi’s lips before he could try and say anything, and he chuckled when I pulled away, eyes creasing and crooked front teeth showing.

“What are we now?” His voice was a mere whisper, not insecure nor scared, just wondering, “What do you want?”

I gulped, but decided to be honest. No more hiding my feelings and thoughts from him, “I don’t know just yet, and that’s why I need you to take the lead, but this—I want more of this, of you.”

“Good,” Mingi hummed, lips pursed as he kissed my cheek once before slowly releasing me from his warm embrace, “because I’ve been wanting more of you for fucking ages, doll.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle as suddenly I felt embarrassed and perhaps a little shy, but Mingi seemed to be unphased as he grabbed my tote bag and looked through it because his clothes were in it, “You can keep these, they looked better on you anyway. But you better not give them to Yunho if he ever happens to go over to your house—”

“Mingi.” I snapped mortified and pushed his arm as he dropped the tote bag and burst out laughing, giving me a cheeky smile.

“Want to hear the rest of the song I made for you?”

“For me?”

“Yeah, doll, for you.”

            By the time I managed to get home I might as well been on cloud nine and in so much ecstasy that one would think I was on drugs. Which, kind of felt like it after the day I have had—not that I’ve ever done any drugs. I failed to notice my mother’s silhouette in the window of our kitchen when I got out of Mingi’s car and, of course, that meant she saw him get out of his old Honda Prelude and jog after me to kiss me hard and leave me dizzy before he left. And all of that, of course, meant that by the time I unlocked the front door and stepped inside, my mother was leaning against the archway of the kitchen with the widest smirk I’ve ever seen on her face.

“So, did you have sex?”

My eyes widened in mortification and I struggled to step out of my boots and shrug off my jacket, “Mom!”

“So, you did, huh.” It wasn’t even a question, and suddenly running after Mingi’s car sounded a lot better than standing in front of my mother as she bit her bottom lip, giving me a wink.

“We didn’t!” I exclaimed, cheeks flushed a deep red as I cradled the tote bag to my chest, “He needs to take me out on a date first—many dates, actually.”

“Well, he better hurry up then cuz you’re glowing and you’re happy.” I froze at my mother’s words as she looked at me with a serene expression on her face, lips pulled into a small smile, forgetting all about her previous teasing, “He’s good for you, too good. I haven’t seen you so relaxed and happy since—since highschool.”

Since Yunho broke up with me.

“I know, and I will make sure I never hurt him again.” I told my mom and she hummed, looking down at her wristwatch.

“You missed lunch, by the way, so you’ll eat chicken tenders—”

“Again?!”

“Again, exactly. Go wash up before dinner.”

And I was out of her sight in no time, with a newfound rush in my system, skin tingling as I realized I craved to hold my pencil and my sketchbook in my hands. I couldn’t remember the last time I drew something for me and not because it was an assignment. And if hours later the sketch looked a lot like a familiar platinum blonde haired man with sharp eyes and a tall nose wearing blue jeans, a white t-shirt and a beige cardigan over it, accessories many and nails painted black, then I wouldn’t even deny it anymore. Perhaps he would love seeing my drawings. Perhaps I should finally show him.

Mings 🖤: date on wednesday? Me: but im paying this time Mings 🖤: so when we went to the pottery coffee shop it was a date wasnt it, doll Me: maybe it was maybe it wasnt Mings 🖤: no maybes this time

『Oh, but you know me too well

Oh, but you know me too well, well』

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