#it is a little embarrassing watching it with someone else who doesn't get it quite as much

[viaviavie]

BLOT BATTLEMENT (100 FOLLOWERS MILESTONE)

in which he suffers watching you fawn over his overblotted copy who seems to be in love with you.

SUMMARY: after an experiment gone wrong, an overblotted clone of one of the victims has re-emerged. luckily for everyone, it's reasonably powerless and will eventually disappear. unluckily for him, the clone seems to reflect his true feelings towards you.

PAIRINGS: overblot gang x reader (seperately)

WARNINGS: suggestive (for jamil, vil, and idia), slight possibility of drowning (azul), projection for ob!vil

NOTES: this is in celebration of hitting 100 followers! thank you so much for following my work, and for all the comments you have left behind! i will also be rewriting malleus's section once book 7 is complete! on another note, pls invade my inbox if you immediately see that reference from malleus's section, mwah!

"That's enough. If one of you barks one more time, I will have to show you what happens to unruly puppies that won't obey." Crewel sighs and pinched his nose, another hand gripping his baton in irritation. "Unfortunately, we cannot fix this in an hour. You bad doggies need to get along until this entire issue is resolved."

The professor clicked his tongue, shoving the two out of his office. "I have already contacted someone to get you both. Surely, the Prefect has survived both of you once and will be able to do it again. So stay put, and be good. Or else."

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

Seeing his Overblotted self summons waves of shame and embarrassment for Riddle. It was not his best moment at all, and that inky copy is a reflection of his worst flaws and traits. You could imagine how rushed Riddle was to collar his copy in fear that it would hurt others again, especially you who had already dealt with it once.

"Don't make me repeat myself, I demand that I see my King of Hearts, this instant!" It's very much like babysitting a spoiled child, and it makes Riddle so wracked with embarrassment. He cannot control his copy as it stomps and yells outrageous demands to see you. Riddle was really on the verge of collaring it and dragging it back to Heartsyabul when you turned the corner.

OB!Riddle's smile is so wide that it could be mistaken as sinister. "My rose!" Inky blot is smeared all over your uniform as the fake runs towards you. Just as Riddle was about to whip out his wand to stop it, you relax and return the embrace, albeit with a confused expression. Riddle manages to explain very quickly whilst trying to pry off his copy, but you suggest that it is best to let it do what it wants.

What Riddle doesn't tell you is that his copy reflects his desires as well, claiming he is uncertain why it insists on being so affectionate with you. However, it seems to be quite the blessing when OB!Riddle marches to the Heartslabyul dorm to resume its position as Housewarden. In fact, the entire dorm thanks you profusely for being able to manage that little tyrant with a bat of your eyelashes and a gentle voice.

"Trappola, have you not learned your lesson!? Rule #186, you shall not eat hamburg steak on Tuesday! OFF WITH YOUR HEAD—" Tapping lightly on its shoulder, you attempt to placate the copy with a weak smile. "Riddle— I mean, Housewarden Riddle, Ace has not been able to eat all day and the steak was the only thing left in the cafeteria. He did not have much of a choice." Suddenly, the copy's face softened before relaxing back into its seat.

"My rose, I mustn't bend the rules. If I bent them for one, I would have to bend them for all." It scowls, only sinking further into its chair as you rub gentle circles around his forearm. The entire table stares at you with looks of gratitude and relief, all in agreement that you just saved everyone a tantrum's worth of stress. You hummed at the copy, nodding softly. "I know, dear. May I remind you that rules are there to ensure everyone is happy and safe? If Ace hadn't eaten his lunch, perhaps he might have gorged on the tarts instead."

"I suppose you are right, my King of Hearts."

Riddle seethes from the other side of the table, arms crossed and face on the verge of turning red. It was hard for him to decide whether he was merely jealous, or upset at his own copy rampaging around as if he were the real one in charge. He pauses for a moment as an epiphany comes to him.

Is this what it looks like whenever the Prefect is here to calm me down from my temper?

Even though OB!Riddle cannot use his magic, Riddle is extremely watchful of his copy. It is perhaps the ugliest side of him, and the last thing he wants is an Unbirthday Party ruined and spoiled by ink. They only had to put up with it for a day, and surely, Riddle has enough patience to ride out this episode.

He does have to watch and hold himself back as his copy acts so familiar with you. A hand at your lower back, perhaps an inky kiss on the cheek, and you being referred to as 'his rose'? It should have been me!

When his copy disappears, Riddle takes the time to pull you aside and admit the truth behind the blot's behavior. His jealousy seems to have pushed him into confessing, and he makes it clear that he would rather earn your feelings properly instead of coercing you for affection with potential tantrums.

"Forgive me, Prefect. I apologize for my copy's behavior. I have to tell you the truth— it was reflecting my innermost feelings. Prefect, I harbor these affections for you and I yearn to be more than friends. You do not have to tell me anything else at the moment. If you wish for time, I understand as well. Allow me to be curt, at least just this once. I like you more than a friend should, and I would hope to hear your response soon." (So polite!)

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

What a drag. Does he really need to help monitor his own Overblotted self? If you were able to survive it once, you should be able to handle that huge lion on your own. OB!Leona appears to be nothing but a grumpy lion who answers to no one, only being forcibly dragged around by his original self.

It changes when you show up. Suddenly, the copy springs to life in your presence and is completely disobeying the original.

You are taken by surprise when OB!Leona backs you onto a wall, a clawed hand lightly brushing against your cheek. "Herbivore," He breathed as his green eyes zoned in on you. "You should be more careful when you wander these halls alone." You couldn't help but gulp as he grins, fangs glinting against the sunlight. "You never know who might just be planning to eat you."

But when Leona takes notice of his Overblot's sharp nails cut into your skin, his attitude changes as well. The original takes initiative to pull you away and stand between you both. Perhaps you don't understand the way they bare teeth at one another, taking aggressive stances as if one or the other would jump and claw at their target. It sets the tone for a very tense environment as you attempt to drag them both to Savanaclaw.

It was best to keep both lion beastmen confined in his room. Considering that OB!Leona was focused on getting your attention, it wasn't hard to manage him. It was all that his overblotted self wanted; attention and absolute adoration. Leona, on the other hand, was more so bothered by the fact you smelled too much like ink in his own room.

"Tell me, do you look at anyone else like this?" Having been kicked out of his own bed, Leona could only stare blankly from his couch as his copy kept you trapped against its chest on the mattress. It only served to annoy him further when you seemed to reciprocate the attention it was giving you. "No, only you." The copy smirks, its tail entangled around one of your legs. "Then tell me, why? What do you adore about me?"

You hummed, sighing while your hand began to play with his mane-like hair. "You're brilliant. You're the most cunning lion that I know." Leona swears you were teasing him as you take a quick glance at him, smiling slightly. "And you're the only one that can protect me." With a mocking grin, the copy cups your cheek and returns your gaze to his own. "Tell me more, herbivore."

When the copy finally reverts back to ink, Leona can't help but find some relief in having the bed (and you) all to himself again. The first thing he does is drag you to the mattress and keep you trapped against his chest. You still smell of ink and lion, and it's his job to fix that.

"Go to bed, herbivore... Ha? I don't have to give you an explanation. You're a smart cookie, haven't you figured it out yet? ... Even with all the answers my blotted copy gave you, you're still not satisfied? Hmph, that's not my problem anymore. You're mine now, is that what you wanted to hear? ... Good. Now if that is all, let's go to sleep. You reek of ink..."

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

It had become priority to get Azul's overblotted self into the biggest Octanivelle tank, which also happened to be the most isolated one. While OB!Azul seemed to be temporarily human, he seemed more irate with each second spent on the surface. It only relaxes slightly when it spots you, but his grip on your arm never relents. "Prefect, please. I need the sea..." He's just so needy and in pain. You'd help him, would you?

Azul is absolutely livid. He doesn't want you to see his copy in such a pathetic state. He most certainly tried to get you to turn the other way and march straight home, but you had to hit him with, "Even if it's your overblotted self, I would still help you." It might have been just a small comment, but he takes it as if you would move mountains for him. You weren't making it transactional, and that's practically special treatment for him.

You thought that his overblotted self would settle once in that tank. The copy immediately sheds its human form in favor of his merform, much to Azul's embarrassment. The businessman ready to drag you out and leave that blotted mess to fend for itself when a tentacle had dragged you into the water. Suddenly, you're met with teary blue eyes just before you were submerged. "You didn't plan to leave me here alone, did you?"

And goodness, Azul is just torn between fuming and panicking as his copy drags you further and further down. To make things worse, you haven't even taken a breathing potion! That was more than enough to make the octomer shake off his anxieties and plunge down into the waters after you before you drowned.

"And then what? What exactly were you planning to do once you had the Prefect here?" Azul pinched the bridge of his nose as he crossed his arms, unable to even make eye contact with you. Clutching at the little potion bottle in your hands, you do your best to ignore the way that the copy's tentacles seem to latch onto every single limb of yours. Not to mention how they twitch and slowly coil against your skin, or the way that the copy buries itself into your neck with a whine while it ignores its original.

"Why? Why won't you give me an answer?" It murmurs, arms caging you into its chest. You can see Azul's jaw clench, but you cannot exactly tell if he's embarrassed by how pathetic his overblot can be or envious of how it got a chance to be so close. "I'll give you everything. You will never want for anything. All you have to do is say that you'll be mine." The copy grits its teeth as it tightens its grip on you, tearing a surprised gasp from your throat.

"Why won't you surrender to me?"

The moment that this entire fiasco ends, you never see Azul for another two weeks. Every time you go to the Mostro Lounge to see him, he's suddenly occupied with every single disaster known to man. It isn't until Floyd gets bored of the entire thing when you get the opportunity to be tossed into the tank again. It isn't until Azul jumps into the tank after you with another breathing potion to save you, again.

"Please don't speak of that incident, Prefect. I wish you never had to be witness to such a sorry display... W-What do you mean Floyd told you about that botched blot experiment?! ... Don't play with me, Prefect. You can't just say that you'll surrender to me, you'll hurt my poor heart! ... If you dare say it again, I am afraid that the contract can never be broken. Choose your next words wisely, Prefect. Not all agreements have to be in writing."

JAMIL VIPER

Of all the Overblots here, Jamil's was the most... unhinged one, surprisingly. It was also the nastiest, based on how it seemed to disregard everyone around him. Truly, it was the worst of Jamil's envy and wrath towards everyone around him for shaping him as a servant. No matter what Jamil did to snap some sense into his copy's head, it only served to tick it off even more.

When you came to assess the situation, however, you immediately got the sense that the Overblot will not be cooperative unless it gets what it wants.

"Master Jamil," Both copy and original froze, slowly turning their heads to you, who has knelt onto the floor with a small smile. "A frown does not suit such a handsome face. Is there anything I can do for you?" Jamil remains frozen, mentally screaming in his head while his Overblotted self smirks, sauntering towards you with desire swirling in his maddened gaze. "Rise, my diamond. You certainly may do a little favour for me..."

Thanks to Kalim and the coordination of the entire Scarabia dorm, everyone has tricked OB!Jamil into thinking it was the boss of the place (at least for a day, Kamil is super understanding of the situation!). At least someone expected the copy to see through this farce, but OB!Jamil's ego was so stroked by you and everyone around that it seemed to buy into the delusion.

Unlike Leona's copy which was super uninterested with anything that didn't concern you, Jamil's blotted self was extremely irritant with everyone else. Had it not been for you, Jamil would never be able to live down the embarrassment for having such an... unpleasant copy. So far, there have been no disasters while Jamil was occupied with keeping his copy at bay.

It's just that... Jamil has been watching from the sidelines as you are perched on his copy's lap, feeding it and attending to it's every beck and call!

Gripping his knee, Jamil's eyes narrowed onto your flushed gaze as your fingers combed through his copy's hair. If he had envied everything that Kalim ever wase, he certainly envied the abomination wearing his face as it rested its head on your lap. You didn't have to look at Jamil to know that he was seething, but it wasn't as if you could abandon the blotted copy either. It had only been a few hours since it had latched onto you, and this was not the best time to agitate it.

"It seems that I have not rewarded you." The copy sings. Its expression remains content, shuddering at the sensation of your fingers pulling gently at its scalp. "Do tell me what you desire most." Your breath hitched at the copy's purr. You do not react either as the fake Jamil sits up to caress your warm cheek. Biting onto your lower lip, you shook your head. "I desire nothing but to make you happy, master." You swear that you see Jamil's expression strain itself, and you already see how tight he grips his knee.

"Is that so?" You say nothing when the copy leans in closer to you, licking its lips with intent. You should be frightened, and most certainly be running away, but you don't. "You wish to make me happy, then? Is it me that you want?"

All the signs were there. That copy's hand was pressed against your lower back, the other hand was on your cheek, and his face was so so close—

Its lips are hot to the touch, and you melt immediately into his hands as he pushes and prods with his tongue. Against the candlelight, Jamil cannot tell if your cheeks were truly flushed red. He watches as your own hands crept up onto the copy's shoulders, pressing and digging nails into its shoulders until you have the strength to push yourself away for air.

You pant as your vision returns to you, meeting the copy's cruel smirk. It is looking down on you, and yet, you do not feel animosity towards it. You only feel disappointment once you recall it was only a fake.

"Or perhaps," A gasp is torn from your throat when the fake grabs your cheeks with a firm hand, forcing your gaze to fall upon a stunned, yet flushed Jamil. The copy smiles wickedly against your cheek, humming with absolute glee.

"Is it him that you want instead?"

You nod, and Jamil's heart skips a beat.

Yeah, no. Our boy Jamil ain't recovering from this. The moment that the blot disappears, you best expect that Jamil ain't letting you leave that room without an answer.

"I wouldn't act coy right now, Prefect. You may be clever, but I have no patience for your antics. Now, are you going to be honest with me? ... Why don't you tell me what you want, instead? What? But you were so honest with that fake only a few moments ago. Where have your words gone? ... You wish for me to force the truth out of you, then? ... As you wish, Prefect. I will give you everything you want."

VIL SCHOENHEIT

This was such an inconvenience for poor Vil, and he hates his copy to the same extent that Azul does. Just like Riddle, Vil feels a sense of shame when he looks at his doppelganger because it was a personification of his insecurities and selfishness. However, at least the copy was very calm and cooperative, perhaps even melancholy until it sees you.

Seeing Vil's Overblotted self again doesn't change the fact that the fake was still so beautiful. You are actually stunned into silence when you are brought before the two. Grim swears you have stopped functioning because being in the presence of two Vil's is too much for this world.

If you weren't watching yourself, you would've passed out the moment OB!Vil cupped your cheek with its inky hand and smiled down at you. "Ah, Prefect..." You gulped as it cooed at you, much to Vil's alarm. Its surely dangerous, but danger loves you so much and you can't pull away from it.

OB!Vil never lets you out of its sight after that. Wherever you went, the blot would follow. It seems to be fixated on being in your sights, which was not exactly a problem when you brought yourself to Vil's quarters where you would wait the entire thing out. It does concern you, however, just as the copy seems to grow more and more unhinged with each second that passes.

Vil is not exactly envious of how intimate the fake acts with you. Rather, he's extremely perplexed and observant of the way it pines for your attention and praise like a lovesick puppy. However, it isn't always so sweet. It isn't so sweet when the copy comes so close to scratching at your skin as it begs for your honesty. It certainly does not appreciate being lied to.

"Tell me, Prefect. Who is the fairest one of all?" It asks for the hundredth time.

Vil cannot exactly explain how he found himself watching his copy cage you into his own bed. It has straddled your hips, pinning your hands down onto the mattress without a care for the mess it makes. Ink drips and spills over his silk sheets, his pillows, you. Your neck has been smeared with ink, and so have your clothes. His copy is smiling with ink dripping from its lips and its hair, an obscure yet beautiful mockery of the original.

The original's breath hitches as your lips part into a breathy smile. You look like absolute art, and his fake looks like an absolute mess. "You, Vil. You're the fairest one of all." Vil shut his eyes at your quiet whisper, and he wishes that you stop bending yourself over for this pathetic imitation of him.

The copy snorted in dismissal, a sinister grin taking over its features. "Ha!" Even as it grips your wrists tighter, you know better than to believe that the copy would dare hurt you. Your heart pounds, however, as it leans in closely to your face with desperation on its breath. "Why do you say such, Prefect? Why do you say such when you feast your gaze on the ugliest part of me?" A choked breath stills the copy, its grin growing more crooked and maddened. Ink splashes against your cheek, and the copy pathetically takes a long finger to smear it away, only obscuring your features further.

"Are you trying to lie to me?" It croaked, maintaining that desperately smile.

Vil thinks you'll push it away. Vil thinks that you think of his copy so hideously, and so ugly. Vil thinks that you see him as ugly.

And you dispel all those cursed thoughts as your hand reaches out to cup the copy's cheek, dirtying your own hand in turn. "You've pushed yourself so hard, Vil. You've worked hard for everything you dreamed of." The copy's crazed expression remains, and more ink pours into you. Still, you return it with a gentle smile of your own. "Even when everyone complains, you're only pushing them because you care the most. Perhaps you act like the evil queen everyone makes you out to be, but that crown is yours by right."

Vil's heart stops. He still cannot bring himself to look at the sight. It's that cynical part of him that believe in your acting skills, that this was all a ruse to satiate his fake. The knife digs into his chest further as you hummed sweetly. "Your flaws are just as beautiful to me."

Only then does Vil bring himself to look at his copy. It is still smiling, eyes so wide as blotted tears fall upon your skin. You are covered in ink, covered in the ugliness that had consumed Vil, but you accept it all. You embrace the mess, just as you embrace the ugliness of Vil's heart. "Do you truly mean it, Prefect?" Its whisper shakes with hope, very much unlike the weariness and suspicion it held towards you the entire time.

Both you and the copy slowly glance at the real Vil whose eyes had widened at your softened gaze, filled with nothing but adoration. The heart in his chest ached, and he imagines that his entire body is melting into your hands. You are his weakness, after all.

"I mean every word, Vil."

When the situation died down, Vil takes the time to walk you back to Ramshackle Dorm. However, he makes a quick stop when the moon is set at the right spot, just to cast down light on your starstruck gaze.

"To think that the ugliest part of me revealed such feelings— you deserve an appropriate confession, at the very least. The affection that my fake expressed to you was no different to what I feel for you. I realize... that you meant more to me than you should have. I am not a benevolent prince, nor am I pure as the white snow. Still, I offer my heart for you to keep in a box. I only ask you to accept me, for all my beauty and ugliness... Ha, potato. My lovely potato, you're mine..."

IDIA SHROUD

Surprisingly, Idia got along the most with his Overblotted self. It wasn't as if he was driven by pride or competition— there was just some sort of acceptance when OB!Idia was first manifested. There wouldn't have been much issues.

At least, that was what he wanted to believe before OB!Idia set his eyes on you. It sent Idia into a choking fit when he saw OB!Idia approach you with such cool indifference, acting like one of those aloof protagonists from those dark otome games that he saw on a playthrough once. It's the way that OB!Idia leaned down towards your ear, muttering something about his boredom and suggesting to retreat to his dorm.

Idia took an hour to recover before sprinting to his dorm to ensure nothing has happened. All he found was you sitting on OB!Idia's thighs (it insisted!), and Idia swore that his copy was smirking at him.

OB!Idia was nothing to be concerned about. It wasn't as if it had the power to open up the Gate of the Underworld, which so happened to be far away. Other than the fact that the copy seems so... forward with you, Idia tried his hardest to ignore it.

"You look tense, Prefect." The copy smirked as it gently backed you against the wall. It places an arm right above your head, the figure leaning down at you. Behind the mask it wore, you can almost see it smirking down on you. "Don't I scare you?"

If this was the copy's attempt to intimidate you, ha! You got it covered! Idia is practically weak to any sort of romantic notion, it should surely send his overblot into a flustered fit! Boldly, you close in the gap slightly, crossing your arms around his neck and smiled at him. "Not at all, Idia." Much to your surprise, however, the copy takes its hand to cradle the back of your head, gently nudging your face closer until you barely a hair's worth away from kissing his mask.

"Are you sure about that?"

Suddenly a flare of red catches your attention as you glance to the side to see a fuming Idia who snuck over to your side. Wrapping a possessive arm around your middle, the original Idia glared at the fake and gritted his sharp teeth. "Listen here, bucko. You ain't getting more action than me, so buzz off!" He towers over you, hair threatening to burn orange if this fake continues to toy with you. "You wanna play, huh? Only one of us can have her, and you're nothing but a MagicMart knock-off!"

Cocking its head to the side, the copy snorted. It didn't seem to relent its hold it had on you. Instead, it leaned in towards Idia with a taunting stare. "Yeah? Why don't you ask the Prefect, hm? Seems like our little guest is enjoying all the attention." Both of them glance down at you, who seemed to be busy turning red to even give a proper response.

The blotted copy takes its hand to cup your cheek gently, but it was only a ruse as it forces you to look at Idia, eyes hazy with want. The way your breath shudders makes the original itch to steal you away from the copy.

"Don't you?"

Take that ending however you will. Idia does end up confessing to you once his copy is reduced to ink once more.

"Don't give me that look, Prefect. You totally loved seeing me get all riled up. And don't you dare deny you hated the idea of getting sandwiched by two of me... Please don't make me say it. I ain't good at the 'asking out' part, but I don't wanna skip over to straight up dating. Ugh, fine. I actually liked you for a really long time, and oh Great Seven, I just hope that I'm saying the right stuff to get onto your route. You're the only route that I wanna pursue."

MALLEUS DRACONIA (Book 7 is incomplete at the time of this posting)

Had it not been for the lack of potency in the blot, OB!Malleus would have been the end of NRC. Lilia was not a stranger to Malleus's ability to change the environment based on his mood. Even when this was a mere fake that they were dealing with, no one really wants to find out the consequences of upsetting the copy.

Malleus looks down on his Overblotted self. It was a flawed part of him, but nonetheless, a part of him that he was most disappointed by. The Fae Prince should know better than to act so wickedly, but the original understands. He tries to be as sympathetic as he can be for the copy, but it was only indifferent to what the original demanded of it.

Being the concerned friend that you were, you went to see them both despite all warnings from Sebek. Admittedly, Malleus would rather you be as far away from this poor imitation as possible. He does not want to see you hurt, let alone be at the mercy of his copy. Alas, it is too late now. The blotted copy will not allow you to leave.

Malleus hid his frustrations and anger underneath that collected demeanor. The only thing keeping him from doing anything rash was the fact that you were cradled against his chest. With a protective arm holding your waist, you were seated upon the fae's lap. The copy is forced to look up at him as he sat on his makeshift throne, and the fury behind its eyes is most evident, based on the way its hands grip your knees as if it were the only piece of you left.

Alas, it is only a stalemate now. With each tug that the copy made at your lower half, Malleus would simply pull you closer to him in turn. The fae hummed, glaring down at the copy who seems indifferent to intimidation. "Prefect, you may only say the word and this fake will be no more." He grunted, and you resist the urge to whimper as the copy's lips turned upwards into a smile. "If you wish for it, Prefect, I will disappear." It cooed, and the glint in its eyes reflecting the madness of blot.

Hesitantly, you shake your head and only feel Malleus's nails brush against your waist. "I don't want you to disappear." You whispered meekly, uncertain of what to think of the fake's lovestruck gaze. "Prefect, do you know what I can give you?" Even as the fake is forced down by the original, it still has the nerve to reach out and cup your cheek. "I can grant your dreams. I can make your fantasies a reality. I can give you everything."

Malleus lets out a breath of warning, leaning down to your ear as he narrowed his eyes at the fake with restraint. "Do not listen to this mockery, Prefect." His words are tinged with a hint of desperation, as if he had something to hide, something to shield you from. No matter how much he attempts to intimidate the fake, his blotted self presses on with a cruel smile.

"Prefect, all you have to do is love me, fear me, and do as I say. I will be your servant to will, to rule, to ruin." You are frozen as Malleus loses his temper, swinging out his staff to dispel the fake once and for all. Much to his dismay, his blotted self backs away just in time as its glowing green eyes lock onto yours once more.

"All you have to do is stay with me, forever."

The campus lets out a collective sigh of relief when the OB!Malleus disappears. However, suddenly, the entire campus is holding its breath again when Malleus doesn't immediately let you leave his room.

"Prefect, I beseech for your forgiveness. I fear that the fake has reflected my most selfish desires... You have nothing to fear, for I shall never withhold you against your will. How could I do such a thing when I am already so weak to your whims? ... Perhaps you do not have to stay forever to render me your servant. I pine for you, Prefect. My heart has already been yours long before I noticed. Please, grant me your forgiveness, Prefect, lest you cast me aside and I shall let my feelings fade with time."

[smallhatlogan]

you'd think that having watched Madoka Magica for the first time like 12 years ago and having lost count of how many times I've rewatched it in the years following I would have stopped getting really choked up every time Sayaka starts to become a witch and then spending the rest of the series barely holding it together and yet...

[deathbxnny]

Arcane characters when someone flirts with you. | Viktor, Jayce, Vi, Caitlyn, Jinx, Sevika x Gn!Reader

I am the brain rot. The brain rot is me.✨️

Content: pre season 2 Viktor/Jayce!, Jealousy, pitfighter Vi, established romantic relationships, angst, threats of violence/death threats, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VIKTOR

He always struggled with self-esteem issues, mainly due to his sickness and disability that made it difficult for him to do much. A part of him forever will believe that you could easily do better than him, yet that doesn't stop him from getting terribly jealous anytime someone gets too friendly with you. Especially when they can see him standing next to you clearly being your partner as well.

But despite his insecurities, he doesn't allow anyone to harass you either on his watch. He lets you defend yourself for the most part until he has enough and lets his more sassy side handle the flirtatious person for you. He may not be able to do anything in a physical way, something he very much would rather avoid. But his tongue is sharp, and it takes little to make them quickly scurry away with a nervous apology for the disturbance.

He'll never admit to being jealous, however, and denies any teasing accusations you send his way. But he'll secretly ask for reassurance as he starts feeling embarrassed over his insecurities rather quickly after. A couple of hugs and kisses from your side will fix that right up, though.

》JAYCE

He has a reputation to keep up. And so, technically, he should always handle things professionally no matter what. People are watching him after all, and his public image can not be tarnished under any circumstance... or so he says. Things change in his mind when they are about you. In general, people know who you are and who you belong to since he rarely shuts up about it.

But every now and then, someone who is somehow unfamiliar with this concept will come up to you and attempt to woo you right in front of his very eyes. Now, Jayce tries to let you handle yourself, but doesn't hesitate to step in either if the person doesn't get the hint. His rather intimidating frame and position as a councilor help him out Immensely with this. He chases them away with a tight smile and a kiss to your head, as he casually asks how he can oh so graciously help them.

Once they leave, he'll pretend not to hear you, of you teasingly asking him if he was jealous. Him? Jealous? Hah! Impossible... okay, maybe a little. But don't tell anyone that.

》VI

As a pitfighter, Vi doesn't hesitate to get violent with anyone who comes close to the only good thing she has left in her life, which happens to be you. She's extremely protective and makes sure everyone gets the hint regarding who you belong to. But alas, there are always the couple strays that refuse to comprehend that fact and therefore attempt to "steal" you away from her. Something that never ends well for anyone.

Her temper is shorter than it used to be, and that becomes quite clear when she's quick to loom over the person that was pestering you. She knows that you can handle yourself just fine, too. But that doesn't stop her from grabbing their shoulder and asking them if she can help them out instead. Or maybe they want to talk it out in the pit? All the same to her, but the message is clear. She'll win if it comes to you every time, and that's enough to make the person scurry away in terror.

You'll definitely have to calm her down and reassure that you had everything handled. She's just looking out for you, though, and doesn't want you to get hurt, too, like everyone else in her life. The last thing she wants is to mess up again, so her overprotective tendencies will probably never lessen. Not that you kind anyways.

》CAITLYN

Your role as her partner is crystal clear to absolutely everyone in Piltover, especially after she takes over the troops as their new ruler. She's much more cutthroat and cold than she used to be before her mothers death, which made her extremely overprotective of you and your safety. She may even be suffocating at times with her security measures, but she finds it absolutely necessary. This also means, however, that those who try becoming a bit too friendly with you are always at risk of facing her wrath.

She doesn't hold back with her dismay and is quick to stand before you with a dark, stern glare directed at whoever was flirting with you beforehand. Caitlyn doesn't care if you can take care of yourself or not either. She'll take full advantage of her new position and power too, not hesitating to give the person that was pestering you a professionally worded threat that leaves them as pale as a ghost.

Admittedly, it's hard to tell if she's jealous or just worried in her own way. Before her mother's death, it may very well just be her being a bit jealous... but with her current position, she may also just be afraid to lose you too deep down. And she couldn't handle that.

》JINX

After Silco's death, Jinx's temper is milder than before due to her deteriorating mental health (if there was anything left of it to begin with). She's a lot calmer when handling situations and seeming more calculated than before, but that certainly doesn't quell the extreme abandonment issues in her at any rate. If anything, they've become much worse than before. This means that she'll cling to you and snap at anyone who nears you. No one is allowed to steal your attention away from her. No one can take you away from her. She just won't allow it when you're all she has left.

And so, she won't hesitate to use her gun on anyone who is pestering you. A death threat or two usually gets the point across anyway. Jinx will also let you handle yourself first, however though, knowing you can easily do that. But if things do get out of hand, she will step right to scare them away at best. She'd never kill anyone infront of you after all. She doesn't want to scare you away.

You'll have to reassure her of your loyalty a lot afterward, however, as her insecurities and issues can make her spiral fairly easily. Giving her a lot of attention and love makes everything go away, though, luckily.

》SEVIKA

She's very secure in your relationship and trusts you perfectly fine, which is why she rarely ever gets jealous. Why should she, anyway, when you'll always come back to her at the end of the day? Besides, people in the lanes know who you are and who you belong to, and most importantly, what will happen to their faces once she bashes them in if they ever harass you too much.

With that said, though, she typically lets you do your own thing and chase the person away yourself first before bothering to step in. If things get out of hand, then she'll suddenly be right behind you and tower over whoever it is that's not getting the hint. Blowing smoke right into their faces, she'll ask them if they have a problem, and if yes, then they should take it up with her outside. Although everyone knows she's the only one back afterwards. This usually does the trick.

Don't expect her to ever say that she is jealous, though, and hopes you know better, too. She knows you're loyal, as she certainly is for life and therefore doesn't worry about a thing regarding the strength of your relationship.

No one is better than her anyway.

[simpjaes]

BOOK SMART? P*SSY SMART. — P.JS

The one where Jay basically lives in the university library and you live in any and every party you can find on campus. Unfortunately, your grades are suffering over it and you need help. You’re quite lucky though because Jay is quite helpful. 

minors do not interact. 

WORDCOUNT― 10k

PAIRING― inexperienced loser jay x afab reader

CONTENT―  Jay wears glasses even tho the banner says otherwise lol, he’s also a loser ass dweeb in this, open minded and playful reader, college au, jay just rly wants to get in that but doesn't know how to

NOTE― this is a revamp, surprise surprise, nobody is shocked. was originally written for mark lee over on my other blog @/ncteez but i need jay like i need air so….cackling at the title tho, my brain is malfunctioning pls forgive me

smut tags under cut:: 

smut tags :: MONSTER COCK AGENDA. Jay is a pervert and smells ur towel lmao, mentions of food and detailed popsicle eating,  reader is very vocal and talkative, slight use of the pet name “pretty”, a lot of cum, cream pie, unprotected sex, mention of bc pills, Jay has a huge cock and he didn’t even know it, inexperienced Jay, experienced reader, finger sucking, nipple sucking, grinding, oral (f recieving), Jay gets on his knees, making out, sex on a table

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

         It wasn’t shocking that you were failing but it was shocking that not a single one of your friends were failing with you. They somehow managed to keep their grades up while partying just as often as you do. You don’t know how the hell they did it and you also don’t know why the hell they refuse to help you study now that they’ve seen your failure.

         Not the greatest friends, you think. They won’t help you study because they only have time to study their own classes and to continue partying without you, apparently. You knew you had to come to terms eventually that these people aren’t your friends. They’re just people to party with, people to have fun with, and apparently, people that will watch you struggle.

         It’s frustrating to walk home from classes by the run-down houses with booming music already playing. Without fail, every time, you wish you could be attending instead of studying. It’s even more annoying when you give up on your studies because you’re just not fucking getting it, and you probably would be fucking getting it if you were at a party talking to potential boyfriends or fuckbuddies. 

         Fairness in the world is so hard to grasp. Someone else always has it, but never you. The worst part about all of this is that you’re very aware of how lucky you actually are, you wasted away in college and allowed yourself to get this low simply because you were lucky enough to be well-liked. You prioritized the pointless things over the important things, and now you’re suffering for it. Complaining that you can’t attend parties, looking like a bore to your friends who pity and are embarrassed by you for not being able to multitask like everyone else.

         That’s right. You can’t party and study like everyone else, so maybe now it’s time to focus on the task you’d pushed aside for so long.

         Studying. Ugh.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

         You don’t know Jay past the fact that he is in at least three of your classes, extremely quiet, and constantly in the library when you pass by to leave the campus. You’re a little bit ashamed to admit that the majority of people you are well-liked by are the people who are ignoring you right now. The only choice you have is to find someone that can help you catch up on all of the studies you’ve blatantly abandoned. You could go through the student center and “officially” attend tutoring sessions with someone who would likely scoff at you for not getting it, or you could find someone of your own choice to help you. 

         That’s the only reason Jay comes to mind. Again, he is in three of the four of your classes. Every semester, without fail, you’ll look for your name on the dean’s list knowing that it’ll never show up, but you have seen Jay’s name on that list more times than you care to remember. 

         Jay knows of you as well. The girl who cut in front of him in the cafeteria to grab coffee with her large group of friends, making him ten minutes late to be early for his class. The girl who loudly slammed a book down in the library and nearly gave him a heart attack, the girl who came into class stumbling and giggling with one of the guys, clearly still tipsy from the night before. 

         You are everything that Jay isn’t. You are everything he avoids when accepting friends into his life, and his interest in you doesn’t really go past the point of having a stubborn, pretty girl to look at. He is a man after all. A man who is finally away from home, surrounded by hormonal women and men who can’t see past their brain fog of sexual fantasies in class. Never towards him though, he’s usually just on the outside looking in. 

         Jay has those fantasies too, but it isn’t his focus. He is dead set on being a top student, one that people recognize on the academic end rather than the partying end of it all. So, here he is, sitting with his nose in a book, glasses sliding down every few minutes as he munches on a pack of crackers. He’s been here for three hours already and finds comfort in the silence of the library. It’s such a vast place with so many corners to hide in if someone were to come and disturb his peace. Today is no different from any other Friday, where few students choose to study and instead opt for one of the various frat parties or bar hops. 

         You wish you could be one of those people, truly, but instead, you’re making your way to the library in search of Jay. The one student who you assume may actually take you up on the offer of study sessions. You imagine his shocked face when you sit in front of him, and you try your best not to imagine a look of disgust rather than approval. You need Jay now, for the first time in your life, more than ever. His knowledge of the three out of four classes you have will surely work wonders on your GPA, you will probably have to admit how much you’d be relying on him in order for him to even consider your offer too.  

God, you hate begging.

The library is so deafeningly silent when you walk in. You can’t hear even the slightest of a whisper as you walk around and peek into the many empty study rooms and cubicles. After several minutes of searching, the anxiety bubbles up inside of you. What if he decided to do something else? Of all days? The one day where he is needed to be studying? 

Just as you turn to leave, ignoring the entire second floor of the library, you nearly walk straight into him. And by nearly, you actually do  walk directly into him. 

Books clatter to the floor, Jay sighs as he looks down without making eye contact with you. It’s not the first time he’s been walked into and it probably won’t be the last. He is forever wishing that people could just watch where they’re fucking going.

“Hey, I’m sorry–” You go to say as you lean down to help him pick up the mess, he still doesn’t look at you though. Honestly, he barely even notices you there with those airpods in his ears and eyes on the floor. 

To be fair, most people who walk into him just continue walking, so…

         When he does take note of another person helping him retrieve his things, he looks up. You’re not shocked that all he does is nod at you when he takes the book from your hands and makes his way back towards his study space. 

         In an awkward way, you follow him. You feel dumb and kind of lost in this world of books and good students. Up the stairs, towards the floor you’d not even bothered to check, Jay unintentionally leads you to his little corner that already has papers and books laid out. 

         You swallow hard when he takes his seat and looks up to see that you have followed him. Jay is quick to swipe one of his AirPods from his ears and you can kind of tell that he instantly went from relaxed to nervous.

“Uh–” You look around, feeling awkward standing there. “I was looking for you.” 

“Me?” Jay questions with a soured look on his face. He doesn’t really do it intentionally, it’s just, like, what? 

 “Why?”

“Okay, just hear me out.” You start, taking a few steps forward and inviting yourself to sit at his table. There is absolutely no arm space on this side, but that doesn’t entirely matter. You begin your pitch.

“I know it’s kind of weird, but, I’m failing.”

“That’s not weird.” Jay mocks, shaking his head and moving to put his airpod back in his ear.

“Wait! Just, please–hear me out.” You plead now, a little frustrated that he’s already refusing to help you.

         He looks around and then lets out a deep sigh. Rubbing his temples, he nods.

“I know we aren’t the type to like, help each other or whatever– but I’ve asked all of my friends, and they kind of blacklisted me…you are my last resort, I swear.” You say, begging with your eyes. “Can you please just help me study for like, one day a week?”

         His body is stiff and his face is unimpressed by your pitch. 

“An hour a week?” You adjust clapping your hands together to plead even harder. You very nearly start to grovel on the ground before him. “Jay, please. I need to get my grades up.” 

“If you had just given yourself a day a week, you wouldn’t have to be asking someone you’ve never even spoken with to help you study.” He rolls his eyes, still mocking and appearing a bit cocky at the sudden power he’s been given. Of course he only gets approached when someone needs something from him. 

 “How many classes are you failing?”

“I’m failing three classes and have a C in another–” You shamefully admit. “Just an hour a day, please.”

         Jay eyes you over, shifting a bit in his seat before letting out another sigh. 

“Finals are barely a month away.”

“I know! I’ve already got extra credit lined up so I can at least get my grades up by a letter but– I,” You look down, more ashamed than before.

“You don’t know how to actually do the extra credit, do you?” Jay finishes for you and is, for some reason, shocked when you nod. 

         He can see the panic in your eyes, and he noticed for the past week that you’d been looking incredibly tired around campus. Not the hung-over type of tired either. He’s noticed you move your seat closer to the front in one of the classes and even noted that you’re actually taking notes during your time spent there. Maybe he should help you out. If not for the fact that you genuinely seem to need it, but also maybe because he’s like, incredibly aware that he is attracted to you.

 He always has been, but that’s not the fucking point. 

“Okay, you can come study with me whenever you want then. I usually study here because I have a roommate who isn’t exactly the quietest person–” He goes to explain. 

“I have an entire apartment to myself, you can come study at my place. Really, I’ll make food and everything.” You panic, still trying to sell the idea despite him already accepting your offer. 

         Jay is a little shocked and offended that you have your own apartment, and yet you’re failing your classes. No way in hell are you paying for that yourself. This only prompts him to want to help more. Because, like? An entire apartment to study in? Where a pretty girl makes his food? 

“Okay, that can work. What days and times can I be over?” He follows up with a nonchalant nod, noting the three shared classes and the one other you’ll probably need help with. He hopes he’s already taken the outlier class, otherwise he won’t be much help in that regard. 

“You can walk home with me after those classes if you want, and we can study until you’re ready to leave?” You offer. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be every day, but–”

“We can meet up after every class and decide if you want to study or not.” Jay finishes for you yet again, and you nod with a smile. 

“What’s your favorite food?” You ask, wanting to make a mental note of keeping your end of the bargain. 

         Jay thinks hard at that because being put on the spot like this makes answering any question a bit difficult. 

“Here–” You hold out your phone. “Put your number in and you can think about it. I’ll text you so you have mine.”

 You can’t wipe the smile off of your face, the anxiety is practically dissolving from your body at the very idea of someone being willing to help you in the comfort of your own apartment.

         He, on the other hand, is a bit more anxious now. He realizes that now, he’s going to be studying with you. A girl who had never even looked at him twice during the semesters you’ve shared classes. He’s putting his number into your phone, and you’re going to be texting him, and spending time with him instead of going to the parties that he’s never invited to. 

“I’ll see you on Monday?” You ask in his silence, sending a quick text to him so that he can save your number. He nods and looks down at his books. “Don’t forget to text me what you want to eat, okay?”

         He nods again as you stand to walk away. He watches intently at the way you have a little bounce in your step and can’t help but feel his cheeks flushing. God, why is he doing this to himself? 

         Slamming his head on the desk, he, much like you, cannot stop smiling now. All thoughts of studying for the remainder of the night left his head and were replaced with his new study schedule. He thinks he will try and take it easy this weekend, specifically so he is mentally prepared. He’s only talked to you for a total of fourteen minutes and he’s already lost his ability to study and think clearly. 

If he’s lucky, the two of you will pass this semester with flying colors. There’s still that tiny part of him though, that wonders if maybe you’d find interest in him, and maybe he will fail the semester with you because, honestly, you are so distracting.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

         On Monday, you sat up straight in class while eyeing the back of Jay’s head most of the time. Mostly to prepare yourself for if and when he makes a break for it. He hasn’t even texted you what he wants to eat today, and part of you wonders if he went back on his promise to you. Not that it was much of a promise in the first place, anyway.

         He was a little shocked that you weren’t the first out of the room once everyone wrapped up though. Like you, he was assuming the same thing. You’d make a fucking break for it and pretend you never approached him in the first place. After all, It was common for you to leave mid-way through class or be the first one out the door. Instead though, he finds himself proud of you. You stood there awkwardly looking at him as the room emptied out, clearly unsure of what to do or say to him.

         Jay nods your way as if to beckon you towards him. 

“You’re still wanting to study today?” He asks with a brow raised in surprise. 

All weekend he had thought about it. Thought about the possibility of it just being a joke to you, or maybe that you’d change your mind and allow yourself to flunk out like you already had been doing. His heart kind of jumps a bit noticing you looking at him like this. 

“Yeah? Wasn’t that the plan?” You ask, nudging him a bit once you get up beside him. “You didn’t text me what you wanted to eat so you’re just gonna have to eat whatever I have in the fridge, by the way.”

         Jay nods, opting to stay silent at this moment. He’s going home with you. He’s going to be seen on campus walking home with you. He’s not the sort to want attention, but this situation feels dangerously attractive to him. Especially when he takes note of how you’re probably going to look all…cozy and at home in your apartment. Like, he gets to be in your space teaching you things that you should have already known. 

         It all shouldn’t be so exciting. After all, his days are filled with the typical boring sessions of reading, writing, noting, and memorizing. It is exciting for him though. Never has he studied with someone like you, or really even gotten to talk to someone that most of the men speak to, the unreachable men no less. The ones with families that own the city, and all the houses in it.

You’re one of the unreachable women on campus, he thinks. The ones with standards based on fun, attractiveness, and chaos rather than charisma, personality, and knowledge. It’s kind of a once-in-a-lifetime thing for Jay to be doing this right now.

“Okay, so...” Jay drones out, avoiding eye contact with you as he packs things into his ratty backpack. “I’m not super hungry right now but–we are going to your place right?”

He needs the confirmation himself if he’s being honest. Nothing would suck more than assuming and being proved wrong.

         You nod with a smile, grabbing his hand as soon as he throws his backpack on. It isn’t intimate to you, but for him, it’s…something. Holding his hand is reserved for intimate relationships with family or girlfriends. He never holds hands.

 He’s never really gotten the chance to anyway, aside from a little cousin when they were crossing the street last summer. He can’t help but buckle in on himself in a shy sort of way as you lead him from the room and out of the building. 

         You’re rambling about all of the things you need to study. All of the snacks you could offer to him. All of the hours you wish you hadn’t wasted partying, yet, all he’s thinking about is how warm your hand feels in his. You seem to be a natural at talking to people. Touching them without a single worry in the world, it’s kind of nice, he thinks. The fact that you aren’t ashamed to be seen together with him, heading towards the place you sleep. Sometimes Jay forgets that this is college. No one actually cares who is hanging out with who unless they are in the middle of a raunchy frat party, seeing their love interest getting touched against a dirty bathroom counter. 

         He smiles to himself as he finally catches up to you and allows you to stop dragging him around. He keeps pace with you now, resting his hand as if to allow you to let go, but you don't. 

“Just around that corner–” You say,  glancing over at him and noting the shade of color his face has become. “You good?” 

         Jay nods, staying quiet and trying to force himself out of his thoughts. He glances down at your hand holding his and then back up at you on instinct. 

“Ah, sorry.” You mumble, releasing his hand and trying hard to understand that maybe you truly are too clingy with most people in your life. You think his reaction was kind of cute though, and now you’re a little determined to help him relax those stiffened shoulders. Jay can’t be as boring as he seems, right?

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“I have peanut butter and jelly, eggs, noodles, some leftover pizza and–”

“I’m not hungry, but If I can have some water or something, that would be cool.” Jay cuts you off, slipping off his shoes in an immaculate show of how clumsy he is. You can hear the clatter of your entire coat rack falling to the floor due to his weight leaning on it through that single task. 

“Okay–” You side eye his mess with a slight smile. “Water, got it.”

 You trail off to get him the drink, keeping a small mental note of how nervous he appears to be right now. He’s panicked, frantically trying to balance your coat rack back in place as if you hadn’t walked directly into him just the Friday before. 

“Jay, it’s just a coat rack.” You laugh with water in hand, hearing him mutter a sorry as he hangs one of your empty purses back onto it.

“Thanks.” He says now, reaching out for the drink.

         Watching his eyes go from the glass of water to your apartment, you smile at the look on his face. Such a smart guy acting so incredibly stupid the moment he’s alone in an apartment with a girl. Cute.

“Is this good?” You ask as if you’re offering a change of subject so that he doesn’t have to think about the coat rack he had just knocked over. You point over to your dining table that’s placed perfectly in a little nook against a window and look at him as he stands in place. “We can start whenever you’re ready?”

“Can you show me to the bathroom first?” Jay blurts, hyper-aware of his awkward demeanor. He needs to calm himself down before even thinking about sitting down to fucking study. 

   You point to the bathroom quickly, making your way to the table and adjusting everything so there is space for the piles of books soon to be laid on it. You watch only a little bit at how Jay makes his way over to said bathroom in a show of not-so-confident body language. He seemed kind of cocky on Friday, but today he seems to be like jelly. 

         You sit at the dining table without thinking much more of the man in your bathroom, instead, you pull out some textbooks and lay them out.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

         Jay stares at himself in the mirror, he can practically see the blood rushing to his cheeks and ears as he comes to terms with the fact that he probably shouldn’t have agreed to come to your apartment to study. You’re attractive. That alone is a reason in his head to avoid it, but he’s here and he’s already made a fool of himself. 

         He slaps his face a bit with some cold water and tries to will himself to stop acting like such an awkward idiot. Surely you’ll pick up on his inability to talk to women if he doesn’t get it together, right? You’re going to think he’s some weirdo, a pervert maybe, before throwing him out and avoiding him forever.

         Staring harder at himself, he waits for the color to run from his face so that way he can get out there and start the study session, but then his eyes start to wander. 

         Your bathroom is immaculately clean save for some makeup stains on the counter and a few stray hairs that must have been yanked out of your head while you attempted to brush out a night of drinking. It smells fresh and your perfectly hung towels look plush hanging against the wall. Without a thought in his head, he leans towards the towel so that he can dry his face and hands, and that’s just what he does. Except, maybe he buries his face into the towel a bit longer than he needed to, and maybe the smell of it was so astronomically sweet that he nuzzled against it even more.

         He could tell the towel had been used at least once though, solely because he could smell a scent that wasn’t the soap on the counter, nor any laundry detergent he’s aware of. Then…his eyes flick to the actual hand towel that he somehow missed, right beside it? A lace bra. The flush comes back to his face, making him feel even warmer than he did when he entered the room. Which feels like a fucking nightmare if he’s being totally honest. 

         It dawns on him again. He’s in your apartment, smelling your towels, and staring at your bra. Coming to the bathroom in an attempt to calm down has done nothing more than make things worse, and the only option he has now is to stumble out of the bathroom hoping you assume he was in here doing number two rather than planting his face into a towel where you dry off your naked body. 

         Mumbling to himself, Jay prepares himself to face you. Sure, you probably see nothing out of the norm if he does well and hides the fact that he’s hyper-sensitive just for being in your space, then again, Jay has never been the best at playing pretend.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You offer him a bright smile once he finally makes his way back into your living space and seats himself at the table. He seems to be avoiding eye contact with you, bashfully pulling his own books out of his bag with shaking fingers. 

“Are you okay? You sure you don’t want a snack or something?” You look at him, head tilting at him in concern. 

Jay finally looks at you and notes how comfortable you seem while he feels like he’s internally falling apart. There shouldn’t be any fucking issue in his head when it comes to this situation, but here he is, panicking because a pretty girl is in front of him. 

He feels so dumb, so obvious, so embarrassed. Yeah, maybe he should eat something, at least so he can buy some time to focus on something else before he starts stuttering through your studies. At this rate, all you’re going to learn about today is how awful Jay is around women. 

“Maybe I should eat, yeah–” He says in a small voice, still staring at the books as he places them on the table.

“Come look in my kitchen, we can eat something together?” You offer, reaching toward his hand. 

He pulls back from your touch and tries to play it off casually like he was just reaching for a pencil, but you didn’t miss the fact that his hands were cold and shaky.

Taking note, it starts to dawn on you. You’ve dealt with men like him before, and it was always an interesting situation. To check your theory, you rise from the chair and lean over the table, being sure to squish whatever cleavage you have visible to make it more visible to him. 

“Salty or sweet?” You ask, watching his eyes intently and the way they struggle to reach your face. Score one for you, Jay is definitely a man above all. Luckily for him, you have lots of experience in that field, while he appears to have very little in the field of women. 

“W-what?” He drones out, pulling his eyes away from you in an attempt to hide the way his face immediately flushed. 

“The snacks? Savory or sweet?” You laugh, propping yourself back from the table and hopping into the kitchen, checking behind you to see if he follows.

He does stand to follow, but by the time you round the corner, he isn’t behind you like you figured he would be. Peeping your head around the corner, you watch as he holds his hands in front of his groin, looks down at himself, and then lets out a deep sigh. You then watch as he adjusts himself in his pants, uncomfortably hiding a semi-hard on so that he could come into the kitchen without suspicion. 

By this point, you’ve already decided that studying will very likely not be part of today’s schedule. He wouldn’t be able to focus on a damn thing like this, right? You should help him, right?

“Took you long enough.” You joke as he appears in the kitchen, turning to look at him and intentionally trailing your eyes down his body just to see if you can see any sort of bulge. He’s safe though because he apparently must have skills in hiding his arousal during the worst times. 

Jay, on the other hand, can already tell that your shift in mood is intensely different compared to before he went to the bathroom. Twice now you’ve been blatant towards him and it is not helping him at all right now. Is he reading it wrong because he’s very obviously horny right now? Were you really trying to dangle your breasts in front of him like that? Are you really checking him out right now? 

“Sorry–” He looks down. “I– uh, I dropped something.” He offers as an excuse, uncomfortably trying to shift from your view and avoid eye contact. 

“Sure.” You say with a roll of your eyes, knowing full well that he was hiding his cock. “I want something sweet. Sounds good?” You change the subject, reaching out and running your fingers down his arm. 

He swallows hard, stiffening his shoulders and nodding to you. Without hesitation, you let your fingers stay against him for a few seconds longer, keeping eye contact with him before turning and opening a cupboard. 

“Peanut butter crackers, cereal, and oatmeal.” You deadpan, slamming the cupboard and stepping to the fridge. “Pudding.” Then you open the freezer. “Popsicles, and ice cream.”

Jay just stands there when you close the doors to the fridge and look at him in question. He could opt for the crackers but his throat is already dry enough. Choking right now would be even more humiliating. Cereal could work but that would be embarrassing too, for some reason. Oatmeal is an option, solely for how disgusting it looks, surely it would tame his boner. 

But, popsicles? Hell no.

“Grab whatever you want, I'm eating a popsicle.” You say, raising a brow and throwing open the freezer door again to take your pick.

Of course, it’s  intentional. It’s fun to see his eyes light up at the very idea of seeing you eat a popsicle, and even more fun to imagine how flustered he’s going to be in mere minutes.

Jay looks to the floor and heads towards your fridge, also opting for a popsicle despite his very recent internal protest. Mostly so you don’t think he’s a pervert when he inevitably sees you eat it. But also, like, just in case you really are trying to flirt with him right now, at least his lips will taste sweet too. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You had expected Jay to get flustered, and boy did he. What you didn’t expect though, was to become flustered yourself by the image of Jay’s tongue darting over sweet ice, and then over his own lips to suck up the melted and sticky juice. The only image in your head right now is the idea of if he would lick his lips like that if you were to spread your legs for him. Would he lick up your mess on his face, chasing the flavor the same way he’s doing right now?

A dull ache begins to spread throughout your body as you watch him. His eyes still avoid you but you manage to catch him a few times. Each time he makes eye contact with you, your gaze shoots to his lap just to see if he’s gotten hard enough for his cock to leave its tucked position in his waistband. 

Jay is hyper-aware now too, with the way you’re staring and almost leaving your popsicle unattended as he eats his own. He feels confused, like? Are you doing what he was actively avoiding doing to you? Jesus, you really are kind of a whore, god.

By the time the popsicles are finished, your fingers are sticky from allowing it to drip down the stick. You make a point to suck each of your fingers innocently, looking under your lashes at him for split seconds as you begin to shuffle through the papers on the table. 

“So–” You say, popping one finger out of your mouth and inserting another. “Can we start here? I need to have a paper written on at least one topic on this list and have no idea how to find a good source to read from.”

Jay hears and sees you in tunnel vision right now, but he manages to catch the ass end of your sentence and begins to try and focus on the studies at hand. Still watching you suck your fingers into your mouth, he clears his throat and places his own popsicle stick onto the table, pretending he doesn’t wish your tongue would lick him like that.

“I wrote mine based on this topic, and I found a lot of good sources for it. I don’t think our professor would think too hard about us choosing the same subject–” 

“Yeah, especially because it’s me. They’d never guess you’re in my apartment right now.” You laugh, smirking over at him. 

“I would’ve never guessed either–” Jay says without thinking, barely processing how embarrassing he is before you squint at him with a wider smile. 

“Oh yeah?” You ask, raising a brow and leaning forward. “Why’s that?” 

Jay tries to look around but now can’t seem to force his eyes away from you. A much different circumstance compared to before when he couldn’t bring himself to look at you. There’s a connection here, he can feel it. You’re definitely coming onto him and you have been for the past however long he’s been here.

“You’re kind of out of my league, don’t you think?” He laughs more at himself than he does the situation, and to you, he honestly looks pitiful after saying that. It’s incredibly attractive to you in the way he seems to praise you for being a failure simply because he’s attracted to you. At least, that’s the case if you’re reading him right.

“Who said someone like you couldn’t teach me a thing or two?” You have a smile in your voice, and it comforts him, but that comfort is shot down when you stand on your feet and walk over to him. “Who says I’m out of your league?” You ask again, watching him scoot back with his chair as you come closer.

You prop yourself against the table, essentially blocking him from his books and papers. You look down at him now, dipping your head in a playful way. “I don’t think I’m out of your league.” 

Jay notes how you’re between him and the table now. You look comfortable leaning in front of him like this, and when his eyes trail up to your face all his body can do is give in. He looks at you through large eyes, the overhead light is sparkling through them at you. 

In that instant, you can see his embarrassment fill his body because he’s no longer resisting the urge to be himself. He’s staring at you as if you could be a god and saying nothing in response to your words. 

“If anything, Jongie–” You soothe him, grabbing one of his hands and smiling at the way his pen immediately falls out of his grip. “You’re out of my league.” 

He blinks up at you, soaking in the words and not yet understanding in full what you’re doing until he feels warmth enveloping the entirety of his hand and wrist. 

“Do you know how lucky I am that you’re here right now?” You ask him, basking in the way you can see his breath get caught in his throat. “How lucky I am that you’re not only smart but hot too?”

He dips his head at this, a bashful show of your words having an impact on him. He hides his face briefly against his arm and then he realizes–

“Is this okay?” You ask, holding his hand in place as you begin to move your hips against his palm.

Jay watches the way you’ve managed to pull his hand out and plant it between your legs, all so you could grind against it without so much as a warning. He’s not against it though, if anything, his head is shot back to reality and he’s immediately back to glancing around the room and avoiding the scene in front of him.

His palm is against your literal, dampening panties, and all he can think to say right now is, “You could write your thesis on human connection and its effects on the brain.” 

You smile at his attempt to continue to study through this moment.

“I could,” You say with a deeper voice than before, feeling the way his hand stays relaxed in your grasp as you grind against it. “Or we could think about how your brain is being affected right now?”

Jay groans, feeling the warmth of your wet beginning to seep through the fabric, and honestly, it is happening so fast that he’s sure it would be more embarrassing if he walked out now. 

“How are you feeling?” You reword your question towards him, intentionally swiveling your hips so that you can position his fingers into your underwear. 

“You’re warm.” Jay chokes out, eyes now zoning in on your legs slightly spread in front of him. 

You let out a small laugh at this, pulling a bit on his arm to pull him closer, but he doesn’t compute it at all. 

“Do you like it?” You ask again, this time slipping his fingers into you. You let out a deep sigh and roll your eyes back, fucking yourself gently against his fingers before you look at him.

He’s nodding, probably more thankful now that you’d worn a skirt today rather than pants. He didn’t allow himself to take note of your attire, because if he did, he would have made even more of a fool of himself. But he’s nodding now, watching the way you hold his arm in place and slide his fingers in and out of you. 

His silence is louder than his words could be right now, you think. You can feel him straighten his fingers inside of you, you can practically see him salivate at the very idea of how you’re using him right now. You’re not done though, no, no. He’s far too sweet like this, but you want to hear words.

Gently, you pull your hips back effectively slipping his fingers out of you. There, you lift his arm and examine your wetness against his fingers. You smile again, eyes now adjusting to his face rather than his wet fingers. 

Jay watches as you guide his fingers to his lip, and without a second thought, he opens his mouth to taste you against them. He licks circles around each of the two fingers, closing his eyes almost instantly so that he can relish the experience.

He no longer cares how awkward he must seem sitting here like this, letting you do all the work.

“Do you like the taste too?” You ask, releasing his hand and watching how he continues to suck his fingers. 

“Mhm–” Jay groans with his closed mouth around the digits, making damn sure to suck every bit off.

“You’re pretty, you know that?” You compliment him this time, tearing your eyes from him and slipping your panties down your legs. You turn yourself over so that you’re now bent over the table and you ignore the corner of one of the textbooks poking against your ribs, all in favor of what sound Jay will make when he opens his eyes. 

“You can taste more, if you want.” You offer, lifting to look behind you at the way his fingers drop from his mouth and his eyes immediately zone in on your bare pussy displayed for him under your hiked-up skirt. 

He does let out a whimper, one that seemed entirely desperate to do just that for you but–he doesn’t move. He just stares, soaking in the words you’re saying, memorizing each fold and dip in your glistening pussy.

You don’t intend to wait though. Reaching behind you, you grab the back of his head by his hair and guide his face to you. The way you can hear his chair tip over as he falls to his knees makes you quiver a bit before him, and you’re almost surprised to not just feel a face against you. It appears that Jay does know what he’s doing. 

He instantly jumps into action, loving the feeling of your hand in his hair basically telling him to do it. Giving him that green light, letting him.

You can feel his tongue exploring and his other hand reaching to lift your skirt entirely over your ass. His tongue is soft, warm, wet, and so entirely eager to lick and suck every inch of you. It’s not until he starts allowing his moans to vibrate into your flesh that you hike one of your legs up and open your cunt against his working tongue more.

Guiding him by his hair still, you press his face harshly into you with little to no fight for air from him, and you’re loving it. Loving the way he whines for more when his tongue reaches the furthest limit, loving even more when he finally reaches his hands up to your pussy and spreads it out for himself.

He isn’t even thinking at this moment, just tasting and feeling you guide his tongue as if this is what you wanted all along. The thought alone of someone like you wanting to fuck his tongue like this sets his cock on fire in so many ways. He’s so hard right now that it hurts to think about it at all. Jay doesn’t give a single fuck about how pathetic he must sound to you right now, whimpering and panting against you as if this was the only sweet thing in your apartment he wanted to eat anyway. 

You hear a clatter to the floor, knowing for a fact that he’s knocked his glasses off of his face from the angle in which he skewed his neck in order to fuck his tongue into you. You wonder what’s going through his mind right now, because goddamn he’s eating you out like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted. He’s impressively messy and loud with it too, making you feel as if you must taste like the sweetest thing on earth to him. 

For some reason, thinking back to all of the non-sexual situations you’d passively seen Jay in? It turns you on even more. The big-brained student who is constantly making straight As and never going out to parties eats pussy like this? Eats your pussy like this? Better than half of the men you’d already been with? Jay doesn’t miss a single centimeter of it,  and you can tell he’s focusing on you more than he has ever focused on his homework or studies before. 

You feel so deeply needed at this moment by Jay that all you can do is let out a desperate moan for him. One so that he knows he’s not the only one utterly stunned by the turn of events, but also because you’re fucking loving what he’s doing to you.

With each moan, Jay picks up his pace, using those same two fingers and spreading your cunt out impossibly wider just so he can attempt to bury his tongue deeper into the messy, wet heat you offer. He’s spreading you apart so well that it almost pains you to move without the fear of being torn open by his tongue alone. Your clit has barely even been reached but he still managed to make you feel sensitive to the point of wanting to beat your fists on the table out of sheer frustration for not approaching him sooner. 

Not only can he help you pass your classes, but he surely could make you feel like a fucking queen on top of it all, licking you open, up and down, as if he were born and trained for you and you alone? Insane.

“You’re so–” You groan out, releasing his hair from your grip but pressing your ass out more so that you can feel him slip his tongue back to your clit with impossible reach. He continues that, sliding his tongue from your clit to your entrance, dipping in and swirling the muscle before going back to your clit. All while he’s moaning, groaning, and panting against you. 

It’s too much, he’s so incredibly eager that you’re honestly too sensitive to let him keep going. You hate it when you pull your hips forward and lift from the table. Your legs are shaking when you do this, and shaking even more when you turn to face him and lean against the table again. 

“How–?” You look down at him in pleasant surprise, watching him lick his lips much like you hoped he would. “How are you so good at this?” 

Jay is stunned by your question because in all fairness, he’s only ever eaten a girl out once and like, it wasn’t that great because she made him stop within like a minute. He wasn’t really thinking about what to do with you though, or how to do it. He just…did it. That’s all. So obsessed with the taste and smell of you to the point he couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to. He’d still be licking you right now if you didn’t move away. 

“I–don’t know.” He shamefully admits, nonchalantly moving his hands to his pants and unbuttoning them. Not to fuck you or anything, mostly just to release his cock from the chokehold of the denim rubbing against him. 

“You’re lying.” You deadpan, running your hand between your legs and quivering the moment your fingers run over your swollen clit. “There’s no way you haven’t practiced doing this.” You gasp, looking at him as if no other man exists. 

He shakes his head, looking up at you from the floor with innocent eyes. His lips are wet, his eyes are hooded, his hair sticking up from your fingers guiding him– it’s a lot to see him like this when you’ve only ever seen him as that goody-two-shoes student who doesn’t know how to have fun. Clearly, Jay knows how to have fun.

Your gaze on him makes him feel more bashful as he looks down to the floor, feeling embarrassed that you’re praising a complete amateur at this. 

Using your leg, you nudge him.

“You did all of that and didn’t even touch yourself?” You ask in curiosity, noting how he had only just now undone his pants to relieve pressure. “Let me see it.” You say again, almost demanding as you hop up on the table and spread your legs even more.

Frantic at your tone of voice, Jay stumbles to his feet and pushes his pants down to his thighs. His cock springs out and stands erect in front of you. You could stare all day, honestly. Jay, of all people? He’s the one with a cock this big? He’s the one with a size that could make you feel as if you’re being split in half? Well, fuck.

“God.” You comment, mouth falling open at the way it twitches in mid-air. “All of the girls would be fucking swooning, Jay, really.” You get a bit flustered yourself because only now do you understand who you just seduced and what he’s got to offer outside of brains. 

In all of his shyness, Jay hides his face from you again despite his cock out in all of its glory. Your mouth could honestly start watering if he hadn’t just eaten you out to the point of needing him to stop. Meaning, your throat is too dry right now to start drooling. 

Without another thought, you pull your shirt and bra off all in one go. No way in hell is he leaving without fucking you stupid with a cock like that. Absolutely no fucking way  would you let this go to waste.

“When’s the last time you’ve done anything with a girl?” You ask now, reaching for his arm and pulling his gaze back towards you, now almost completely naked save for your skirt hiked up to your waist. 

Jay stares at you again, much like he did when you spread your legs in front of him, this time zoning in on the way your nipples are erect and begging for his mouth to be put to use again. He nearly forgets that you’re talking to him because of the way you’ve presented yourself to him. The reality is right in front of his face, but he still wonders if this must be a dream.

“I–um– right out of high school before she broke up with me,” He says in a lazy voice, slightly raspy. It sounds as if it doesn’t even matter to him because he is so focused on you in front of him. “I’ve only had sex two times.”

“Aw–” You pitifully look at him. “What a waste, you’re such a pretty boy.” You coo, wiggling your hips as if to entice his cock to make its way towards you. “You’ve got the brains and the cock for it. You must feel so neglected.”

All he does is nod, because yes, he does feel fucking neglected, partly because he let it happen and mostly because he knows he doesn’t know how to talk to girls. Right now, Jay could genuinely start crying if you keep talking to him like this though. He can’t tell if you’re mocking him or being genuine, but the only thing he wants to do is bury his cock so deeply inside of you that all you can do is moan out mantras of how pretty he is again. He wants to hear you moan over how much time has been wasted without his cock inside of you, how badly you’d want him again and again after this. 

You can see his facial expressions change every few seconds and to be fair, your body yearns to be filled. With the way he is looking at you, there’s no way he doesn’t want to.

“Wanna fuck me, Jongie?” You ask, realizing that you much prefer calling him this rather than his full name because he seems to lean directly into it. 

“God,” He sighs out, hanging his head to look at the way his cock still stands painfully erect throughout the conversation. “Can I?” He asks now, making eye contact with you through pleading eyes.

You reach out for him, grabbing his waist and pressing his cock directly against your core. You lean your head back a bit to look at him and the way his eyes sear straight through your own. His pupils are dilated, his cheeks are rosy, and his lips are glistening. You lick against them, and the way he immediately starts to kiss you makes you think he’s a liar. He knows exactly what he’s doing with his mouth regardless of where it is. His tongue presses into your mouth so beautifully that you genuinely could argue that this man has only ever had sex twice. 

Maybe he’s a natural? 

Jay knows exactly when to grind his cock between your folds, knows exactly when to pull back to kiss your neck, and knows exactly how to lean you back with his hand protecting the back of your head so that it doesn’t slam against the table. 

He slips his cock so beautifully as he trails his kisses to your tits too, suckling gently against one of your nipples before he nearly can’t stand it anymore. He’s in his own world, barely recognizing that he’s not the only one experiencing this right now.

With an eager hand, Jay grabs his cock and presses it directly into you without waiting any longer. He isn’t slow or gentle with it. You can feel how desperate he is solely because of the way he can’t seem to fathom taking it slow. He doesn’t let you adjust, no. The second the head of that thick cock slips in he’s slamming in. All the way, forcing a yelp from your throat and a tight grip to his back.

He’s lost himself in the moment and you’re loving it. Loving the way his tongue picks up against your nipples, and the way there is no rhythm or rhyme to his thrusts. His size alone is enough for you, and you can admit to loving every single push and pull his body is offering.

The room is silent save for his whimpers, your gasps, and the wet sound of skin slapping against skin. You’re quick to wrap a leg around his waist so that when he presses in again, you can force him to stay in place, if just to let him genuinely feel what it’s like to have a pussy clenching around him.

“You feel it?” You groan out, feeling his teeth pinch against your nipple and sending a sharp pain down your body. 

He nods frantically, pulling your nipple with his lips as he does it. You can tell he’s drooling, wetting your chest in such an embarrassing way, but he’s so–Jay. He’s Jay. This is Jay.

You watch his face and the way he winces with each pulse of your hole quivering around the sheer size of him, and you coo out at him when his cock twitches in response. As if you can handle yourself right now, as if he can too.

Neither of you can comprehend the pleasure.

“Can’t believe I get to be your third.” You sing out. “You’re so good, so–”

“S-stop talking, fuck-” Jay calls out in a broken and choked gasp, feeling too turned on by the way you speak. He can’t help it when he forces his hips to move against the pressure of your leg trying to keep him in place. This time he fucks at a quicker pace. His mouth falls open against your breast and his hands shoot to your waist as he pulls himself up and opens his eyes. 

He watches the way your sticky cunt coats him as he slides in and out of you, fingers pressing so hard into your hips that you feel he could be bruising you. 

You’re so in awe of him losing complete control that you want nothing more than to cum with him inside of you. You quickly reach your hand down to your clit, rubbing harsh circles against the sensitive spot almost to the point that you could start crying out at how painful it truly is at this moment. You’ve never been this sensitive for a man, and yet, you’re coming undone beneath him and nearly losing as much control as he has. 

A mess of moans and groans is filling the room as Jay chases his high, and you are at the point that you want to say the nicest and dirtiest things to him out of sheer arousal. So you do, you talk, and you talk. Whispers of “girls would die to be fucked by you,” turn to screams of, “yeah, fuck Jongie, just like that!” 

It wasn’t until you moaned out, “Cum with me, now, Jongie, I can’t hold it–” when Jay ’s hips stuttered and his eyes closed tightly in a frustrated groan. “Stop–” He grunts, hips pressing impossibly hard against you. To the point that you scoot up on the table. “Stop, I’m–” He groans again, attempting to pull out so that he can release against your pulsing and empty pussy.

But you don’t let him.

Your legs hold him in place as you release your clit and pull yourself up on your arms just to grab against his neck and pull him down with you against the table. 

“Cum in me.” You nearly demand, holding his face so that he can’t look away from you.

You watch the way his pupils dilate more at the words and you feel the way his cock twitches inside of you. Then? His pupils are gone. He’s rolling his eyes back now, looking so fucking beautiful while doing it.

Jay’s eyebrows fall much like his mouth does when he cums. His hips are frantic but his face looks calm, and not a single sound releases from his lips. His breath is caught in his throat with each twitch, shooting ropes into you so deeply that you feel each wave of his pleasure hitting your cervix. 

  You’re very quick to rub your clit again, harsh and rough circles being amplified by the way his abdomen adds pressure to your hand with each push of his cock in you. It sends you over edge so fast, even he feels the clench, choking out each spurt of his remaining orgasm. 

You grab onto him harshly now, without a thought in your head besides kissing him. He kisses you back, realizing that despite having sex before, this may be the first time he’s ever made a girl cum. It’s certainly the first time he’s ever felt his cock being tugged by the walls of a pussy as it works itself through an orgasm, anyway.

Crazy thing is…he’s not done. Like, he can’t stop cumming. Lasting entirely far too long and far past sensitivity. Jay opens his eyes to look at you when you’re reaching the end of your own orgasm, all while he’s still filling you up, and even feeling his load bubble out from around him with each tight thrust. Your voice is beautifully raspy, and the way you hold onto him makes him feel like you should never let go. 

Upon his ears popping and finally emptied, he genuinely feels the mess between the two of you. Quickly, he pulls back and notes that the hem of his shirt is absolutely fucking soaked. In an attempt to take a small step back in order to remove himself from you, he nearly trips over his pants that had fallen to his ankles.

“Oh.” You laugh, wincing as you feel his cock leave you empty. “Probably should have undressed you.” Your eyes sparkle at the large damp spot, nearly making his shirt entirely see-through from just how soaked it really is. 

Jay steps out of his pants silently and just kind of stands there awkwardly, watching the cum spill from you. Then panic spreads across his face. 

“Um,” He croaks out, voice cracking almost immediately. “I– I couldn’t pull out…I’m so sorry.”

“I didn’t want you to.” You soothe him, noting how he’s right back to his awkward and shy persona the moment he’s finished fucking you. “It’s fine, I’m protected” You confirm for him, just to see the relief replace that panic.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“So–” You comment, looking down at the wrinkled papers in front of you. “You really expect me to try and write at least 1200 words tonight?” 

Jay tilts his head at you, sitting with a blanket covering his entire body as his clothes go through the cycles of a wash. “If we hadn’t gotten off track, you could already be almost done with it.” 

“God, you are such a fucking bore.” You laugh, shivering at the cold air hitting your bare skin. “I’m literally naked right now and you’re making me do this right now?” 

“Finish your paper and we can talk about that. Besides, I kind of need to recover for more than thirty minutes from that, you know? I’m sensitive.” He shoots back, not afraid to sound as embarrassing as he truly is now. 

To his surprise, you nod with a cheeky smirk. Promising you any amount of him after what happened was enough to force your focus on your school work for now at least. Just because he did it once doesn’t mean he will always want to fuck stupid girls. If anything, Jay deserves someone who respects his work ethic and need to help others right? The huge cock is just a bonus when you think about it.

You know it’s going to be a hell of a month after tonight, but for the most part, you think that studying with Jay may have been your best college decision to date. You can learn a lot from him, and apparently... he can learn from you too. You just hope he doesn’t run off and use that knowledge on other girls once he realizes he’s definitely got the ability to break hearts. 

[p1utofairy]

★ how will people feel about you going public with your fp?

NOTE: for entertainment purposes only. take what resonates & leave what doesn't. ⭐️ i always appreciate the feedback so don't be shy. MWAH. enjoy!

PILE 1.

i feel like this relationship is going to cause quite a stir, pile 1. the energy is giving “that should be me!” lmao some people are really going to be mad as fuck. your person is going to treat you like an absolute queen and i’m hearing people scoff like “UGH!” which is crazy cause you might not even know these people, but y’alls relationship evokes this energy out of them. you (or possibly your fp) might have a narcissistic ex lurking in the shadows who constantly watches your social media & keeps tabs on y’alls relationship. it’s really weird, EW. they feel like they didn’t have you the way your person does, and it makes them really fucking jealous – it’s honestly absurd.

they fumbled you and they’re really going to regret it!especially because of how well your fp treats you & prioritizes your relationship. this ex has a BIG ass ego like the way they make everything about themselves is insane?! this person could be a fire sign – i’m picking up on some leo energy. they’re in disbelief that you moved on from them, and found someone wayyyy better that fulfills you in so many ways that they couldn’t possibly measure up to. they might create fake pages or reach out to you repeatedly trying to win you back over…it’s shameful honestly. from the outside looking in, your relationship with your fp is going to look so lowkey + private yet so warm + stable. you or your fp could have scorpio/taurus placements, but i just feel like neither of you are the type to post every single thing you do together on social media but people will know that’s YOUR FP, YOUR FP, YOUR FP! like don’t play!

y’all will make it very known that y’all are a couple, but people will not be all up in the mix because y'all simply don’t want them to be. they’ll see little hints and clues that you’re off the market, but this relationship is for you two, not everyone else. i can see you both posting things like holding hands, dinner dates, taking long walks together, an off guard while one of you is doing something, etc. just cute moments that only show a small glimpse of the immense love you two share on a day to day basis.

PILE 2.

were you split between choosing this pile and pile 1 lol? if so, check out pile 1 as well! there might be some messages in there for you too. now anyways, i’m ngl this is giving me single era vibes. you might have options and even if you don’t…you’re like “is any person really worth going public with?” LOL i get it, i really do. you’re very cautious and want to make sure that you’re not wasting your time on a relationship that you know might not last in the long run – you’d rather save yourself the embarrassment.

if you went public with someone…that means you really are committed like they REALLYYYYY won you over because you don’t pop out with just anybody! it takes a lot of effort to keep your attention, let alone gain your trust to be in a public relationship. i actually think your content with being by yourself right now. of course, you want a partner who can provide you with the best and also be loyal and committed to you.

however, you're willing to wait for that one person instead of wasting your time on others who don't meet those standards. OOOOO did some of my fellow saturnians choose this pile? this energy is amazing like seriously i’m so proud of you! you’re doing the inner work and it’s genuinely going to pay off in the long run. you’re cultivating your own happiness and building up your self-confidence. because of that, you’re going to attract a like-minded partner. you will have your desired reality, pile 2! you don’t live your life based on society’s standards and expectations. you’re on a different vibration and are attracting love, prosperity and abundance towards yourself effortlessly because you refuse to settle for less and put yourself in a box.

i know this reading is about how people will feel about you going public with you fp, but you genuinely don’t give a fuck what people think lol. people won’t even be able to form a proper opinion, because you are genuinely on a different level. i randomly just heard that one nicki minaj video when she’s like “BROKE PPL SHOULD NEVER LAUGH!” lmfaooooo i’m sorry but yeah! once you get everything you always said you would, including your fp, people are gonna be real silent no shade.

PILE 3

um pile 3 why is this energy a bit messyyyy, hold awn?! your relationship with your future partner might be different from what you perceive, or at least that’s how the public views it. take that with a grain of salt, but i feel like this relationship is going to have its ups and downs and it’s going to reflect on y’alls social medias.

you or your future partner might be the type to get emotional and act out by reposting different quotes on your IG story or tiktoks that relate to your situation, might even go as far as posting cryptic messages to allude that you two are on the outs. you and your fp know how to push each other’s buttons, and it honestly can get petty between you both. someone is not fully healed from their previous relationship in this connection & the unresolved baggage is carrying over into this one. idk, pile 3. for some of you this could be a karmic relationship and for others of you this could be baggage on your end that you need to work through in order for you to be in a stable relationship.

there seems to be a lot of wishy-washy energy, and people might perceive your relationship as having a 'one minute they're together, the next minute they're not' type of vibe. also, i’m picking up on a third-party situation where either you or your partner is keeping someone on the back burner without completely closing the door.

honestly, people might be amused by this and say things like, 'OMG, go check [Y/N]’s IG story and go see what [Y/FP] posted,' which only fuels the mind games being played. ultimately, i think this relationship will teach you about healthy boundaries and what you are and aren’t willing to tolerate, especially in public. it’s messy because this third party keeps interfering and amplifying the situation to make it worse. the ball is ultimately in your court, pile 3. you’ll know what to do.

[cherubfae]

𝔥𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔰 || {𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔢}

tags: fluff, shy!gn!reader, ftm!reader for Angel 💕 crushing/mutual pining, pre-established relationships, blitz's relationship/intimacy issues (but we gonna get that healthy growth we need), striker's is a bit suggestive!

Alastor

You weren't sure the barrier of touching Alastor would ever be something that would be crossed and you told yourself that you didn't mind. You chose to revel in the moments of when he sought out affections and physical closeness be it dancing or if he suddenly tugs you in to tell you something. Alastor is not very privy to other people's space and Heaven forbid someone enter his without permission. Quite the contradiction.

Now, if he notices you're purposely not trying to give him any sort of touch or affection, he will get rather annoyed. You, darling, are the only one who he doesn't mind touching him. Has he expressed this? No. Will he? Maybe. Did he expect you to be able to read his mind? Quite possibly.

Alastor hoped to have made a smoother transition rather than just outright grasping your hand. Even he seemed surprised by his own action, static feedback chirping from him. His ears flick and the slightest sliver of a blush creeps from beneath his suit collar.

"I don't mind if it's you, dearest. I... I don't detest your touch as much as the others." Alastor clears his throat, his large hand briefly covers your smaller one. Giving your hand a little squeeze, he stands abruptly and disappears into shadow and darkness.

You'd never seen Alastor embarrassed before. How cute.

Lucifer

He's a pretty affectionate guy, especially once he's comfortable around you! His heart warms as you mindlessly play with your fingers, eyes looking everywhere but at him. The more you feel his stare, the more the blush darkens on your face.

"Take it easy there, sweetling," Lucifer's soft tone eases your senses. Pressing a light kiss to your forehead, he pulls back. He offers his hand, palm upwards, giving you time to back away. His gentle smile deepens when you slip your hand in his, his thumb brushing along your knuckles. Tugging you to his side gently, your shoulders brushing, you continue on the sidewalk towards Hell's finest local café.

Husk

While not one for PDA, Husk doesn't mind affection behind closed doors. Preferably out of sight of anyone who may mock and tease him for it.

He didn't however expect you to be sitting on his bed, thumbs lightly pressing into the center of his paw watching his claws go from being exposed and then retracting thanks to your gentle manipulations. He snorts lightly, as silly as you were, he couldn't be mad at your fascination.

"You're lucky you're cute, hun. If you were anyone else I may not be as nice as I am with ya." Husk smirks. Maintaining complete eye contact, you raise his paw to your lips and give it a soft kiss, grinning as Husk jolts with a huffy mrow. "Sneaky brat," he sighs, falling back on his bed with an arm over his eyes.

Angel Dust

You want to hold his hand? Which one, babe? He's got six! :) Angel is understanding of your shy nature, though he hopes you'll be able to be more bold with him in the future. He won't pressure you, of course, but he wants you to know that you can trust him. That he is capable of taking things slow.

"Is this okay?" Angel asks, softly grasping your hand in his gloved one. When you make no move to pull from his touch, a happy wobbly smile wiggles onto his face. He lightly leans his cheek against the top of your head, a brief sign of his affection. He can snuggle you more later, but for now, he wants to enjoy the day with his favorite person.♡

Vox

Intimacy of any sorts isn't foreign to him, but he's not used to someone so good, so pure. And he's certainly not used to that innocent attention being directed at him. Any time you touch him, even if you only accidentally brushed past him, it leaves him buzzing. Craving for something more. He wants your sweet smile to be directed at him and him alone. It takes everything in Vox not to scream when you give his hand a small squeeze only to pull back, muttering apologies. Soon, he's reaching for you again, taking your hand in his.

"I didn't say that I hated it." Vox whispered in an uncharacteristically soft way. His eyes flicker up to your face, then back to see where his hand has dwarfed yours. With his free hand falling to your hip, lightly stroking circles there, he pulls you to stand between his legs. Your other arm slides to rest on his shoulder as his clawed hand curls around the back of your knee. Intimate but not forceful. There's no aggression in his movements. Lifting your head towards him, even with Vox sitting down, he's much taller than you. His eyes hold a silent question, one that you answer with that smile he loves so much and a nod, and his lips press to yours with your hands still joined.

Blitzø

Romantic gestures are a big deal for him. Big in the way that he struggles with them, but that he doesn't want it to be something that holds him back. He really doesn't. Familial and platonic he understands, but Blitz is pretty damned confused with the fact that you want to even be near someone like him. He doesn't want to inadvertently hurt you by acting how he does. He doesn't wanna fuck up, but goddammit, he really does want to be near you. He wants to be able to give you everything you could need and more, he just doesn't know how. How to unfuck himself.

"Sl-slow," Blitz's voice betrays him with a crack and he swallows thickly, taking your hand in his. Ever grateful that you're the ones in I.M.P right now. This is different. Intimate. He's shaky, palms sweaty. His brain feels foggy and it's suddenly hotter than normal. He feels dizzy and like the floor may break beneath his feet and swallow him whole. The second you start to withdraw, he's tugging you back to him with a soft, raspy, "No." This is progress. Progress is good.

Facing him now, your other hand slides up to his. Both your palms are pressed together. Blitz keeps his gaze on the floor, unable to help how fidgety he feels, even as he laces your fingers together, and leans his head onto your shoulder. He's not gonna let you pull away. Not yet. Please...

Loona

Lighting up a cigarette, Loona leans her back against a wall of some dingy alleyway in the human world. You had chosen to wait with her, both dressed in your human disguises, hoping that any second Blitz and M&M would return with the mission completed. Your sole purpose tonight had been to guard Stolas's grimoire and open the portal when everyone was ready to return home.

Blowing her smoke towards the sky, Loona hummed softly. "At least it's a nice night, huh?" She smiles lightly, grateful her tail was hidden in this form when you leaned against the wall beside her. You looked great; you always did.

A vast blue sky with billions of twinkling stars smiled down on you two. It was a nice change of pace from the hellish red glow of your home. This particular area of Earth was quiet. Peaceful, even. Nodding your head you smile at her, Loona swallows.

Her pinky finger lightly brushed your own, a gentle startled gasp leaving you. But you smile, albeit shyly, your hand taking hers. Not many words were exchanged, none needed to be. Just Loona smoking her cigarette and looking up at the stars.

Striker

Ain't you just the cutest little thing? You think he doesn't notice how worked up and shy you get when he's just finished wrangling in some dinner, with his bare, sweaty muscles on display. It's a direct, unvoiced invite for only you and yet you haven't taken him up on anything yet. Why?

"You scared of me, sugar?" Striker drawls, flicking his cigar butt into the dirt and crushing it with the heel of his boot. You look up at him with those big, beautiful doe eyes and adamantly shake your head that you weren't. "Then what is it, darlin'? Spit it out." He smirks, gold tooth glinting.

Cheeks heating, you gnaw on your lower lip. "I'd like to hold your hand." Striker blinks, clearly taken aback. That's it? You're getting so worked up like a nervous virgin begging for a thick cock because you want to... Hold his hand? He stops himself from laughing, he can tell that it's really bothering you. Heaving a sigh, Striker plops down beside you. Pulling you into his lap, his arms slide around your waist and he offers both his hands to you. He hides his reddening face at your back, the sound of his blood rushes in his ears, unable to focus on anything but how soft your hands are. And how well they fit into his. "Jus' do it then, they're yours to touch, ain't they?"

|| ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ, ʀᴇᴜꜱᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴡ��ʏ! ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ. ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱɪᴛᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ. ᴀʟʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ © ᴄʜᴇʀᴜʙꜰᴀᴇ 2024 ||

[earlysunshines]

downstairs neighbor

danielle marsh x fem!reader ; fluff

synopsis: in which you party so often that you get another complaint, but this time it's from a very pretty girl that really has you considering shutting the whole function down.

warnings: alcohol and weed mentioned ; readers an asshole at first but danielle is danielle so reader goes through a whole crisis ; yeah they're adorable, basically black cat and golden retriever trope sorry not sorry ; anything else i didn't mention ; not proofread

a/n: get it because usually it's the upstairs neighbor but i'm quirky so its not... ok nvm ill delete my account i gues ... anyways FIRST DANI FIC UNDER 10K! guys im so in love with her i need to be put into an asylum do u see these pics of her LOOK AT HERR!!! i need to die like rn

danielle has settled in quite alright into her new university. she's moved in with one of her close friends from high school, decorated her side of the room, and all of her professors are oddly sweet--much better than the professors from her old school.

she makes it to the first friday of the semester, deciding to settle in and watch a movie, maybe call her mom and dad later if she doesn't doze off. but when she hears muffled music and disturbing footsteps from downstairs, she pauses the show she's two minutes into and gets out of her bed.

hanni's on the other side of the room completely slumped, her headphones peeking out from the blanket sprawled on top of her with no care in the world as to what is happening downstairs. danielle purses her lips before getting out of bed and slipping the university sweatshirts over her tank top.

she looks back over at hanni, who’s still sleeping, before heading out into the living room area, past the kitchen, and out the door.

when she reaches the floor below, she follows the noise, it gets louder as she steps through the corridors, and then she stops in front of what she suspects is the source of all this disruption before knocking on the door—no response.

“hm.” she mumbles, knocking again in a little pattern—still no response.

before she can knock again, her fist in the air ready to hammer a little harder on the door, it opens.

a girl—probably her age—answers it, eyes narrowed at danielle. she’s slightly taller, but still, danielle feels a little small with how scrutinizing she checks her out. 

“did kazuha invite you? yujin? or was it jungwon?” the girl looks at her with raised brows, expecting an answer with a slightly bothered look. it seems like danielle had interrupted their little… event? whatever event it was, did they really need to have house music being blasted so loudly?

danielle rubs her thumb against her pointer finger, trying to steady her nerves. “oh, no, i um… wasn’t invited,” she says, her voice wavering slightly. the words sound even more pathetic out loud than they did in her head, but there’s no taking them back now. she pushes on, though it feels like her confidence is slipping away with every syllable. “i was just wondering if—well, if you could turn the music down? my roommate is sleeping and it’s just… really disturbing.”

the girl in front of her snickers, a look of disbelief crossing her face as she sizes danielle up. it’s clear she finds the request ridiculous, and danielle feels her cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

“you know what, this isn’t even my party—hey y/n! come out here!” the girl calls over her shoulder, her tone dismissive as she waves danielle off like she’s someone else’s problem now.

you hear your name being called, and with a sigh, you push yourself up from the couch. the group you were sitting with whines in protest as you leave, but you roll your eyes—they’re all drunk, their complaints nothing more than the amplified nonsense of intoxicated minds.

“what is it, yunjin?” you call out, rubbing your eyes as you approach the entrance, the taste of the cheap beer sakura handed you earlier lingering unpleasantly on your tongue. “what—”

the words die in your throat as you spot the girl standing just inside the doorway. she’s probably, no, definitely new here—new to the party, new to the scene. you’ve never seen someone that makes you stop in your tracks like this. her long eyelashes flutter as she looks up at you, her big brown eyes sparkling with a mix of nervousness and something else you can’t quite place. she’s dressed in baggy sweats and an oversized university sweater, the logo stretched across her chest in signature block letters. there’s an air of innocence about her, something that feels out of place amidst the environment both of you are in right now.

you take her in, noting how pretty she is—adorable, if you’re going to be honest with yourself. she looks like a lost puppy, especially with those pleading eyes and the subtle bite of her lip—

you push the thought aside, telling yourself it doesn’t matter. you’re just here to deal with whatever minor inconvenience yunjin has decided to dump on you.

“who are you?”

“um, my name is danielle, i live right above.” she has an accent, something strong and similar to that girl yunjin’s been bickering with – was it lily? no, bangchan? hell no, she hates him and his little group. ah, hanni that short girl that came complaining during your second party of freshman year, yunjin still brings her up. 

“right, what do you want?” you ask, sensing yunjin’s departure when you feel her brush against your shoulder. “is there a problem or?”

“well, yeah, kind of…” she’s actually adorable, especially when she avoids your eye contact like that. “it’s kind of loud, you know. i was wondering if you could turn down the volume a bit? there’s a lot of thumping i can hear from above, i can’t imagine how it must be for the downstairs neighbors…”

“you must be new.”

“sorry?”

“you’ll get used to it.” you say simply, poking the inside of your cheek before starting to close the door. “i recommend a pair of some good noise cancelling headphones—and a signature study spot. see you around danielle.”

you feel a strange pang of guilt, something unfamiliar and uncomfortable twisting in your chest. you’ve done this before—brushed off people’s complaints, shut the door on them without a second thought. but there’s something about her that makes you hesitate, something that tugs at you. maybe it’s the way she looked at you, those big brown eyes wide with a mix of hope and desperation, like she was really counting on you to help. you give her one more glance, catching that puppy-dog expression that makes your resolve waver for just a second. but then, before you can think twice, you close the door on her, shutting out the sight of her pleading face.

–

danielle spends the whole night tossing and turning, the faint vibration of the music seeping through the ground and into her restless mind. it’s not loud enough to keep her fully awake, but just persistent enough to keep her from finding any real rest. she considers going back downstairs, maybe trying to have a proper conversation, coming to some kind of compromise. but every time she thinks about it, the memory of how things ended—the snickers, the dismissive attitude—fills her with embarrassment, making her shrink back into her bed.

the next morning, she’s awake before the sun, the lingering fatigue making her body feel heavy and sluggish. still, she forces herself out of bed, the need to talk to someone—anyone—pushing her into action. with a deep breath, she reaches over and starts shaking hanni awake, the clock not even close to ten a.m. on a weekend. hanni groans in protest, burrowing deeper into the blankets, but danielle is relentless, her fingers poking at hanni’s sides until her sleepy roommate finally stirs, blinking up at her with bleary eyes.

“what the hell man? the sun is still rising!”

“what do you know about the downstairs neighbor?”

“w-what?” hanni mumbles, rubbing her eyes as she turns to lay on her back and squint at her roommate. “y/n? is this about her?”

“the girl directly below us—taller, mean, arrogant, tattoo on her arm and wrist, kind of pretty, nice lips, and jawline… ugh! her!”

“that’s y/n, but you’re reaching with the whole kind of pretty part. petty? yeah, more accurate.”

“last night i went down and asked her to–”

“you went to her place? to do what, complain?” 

“yes!” hanni shuts her eyes and sinks her head deeper into the pillow, sighing softly again. her roommate is new, she can’t be harsh, and plus, it’s danielle. 

“dani… the ra is literally in love with her, and y/n uses that so she can party and get high in her fuckass living room.”

“what?”

“danielle, mo dani, please listen.” hanni sits up, blinking hard as she reaches out ot put a hand on her friends shoulder. “you’ll get used to it, you can use my old headphones and i’ll show you my favorite cafe.”

“you’re just going to let this slide?”

“well until y/n stops flirting with jiyoung; there’s nothing we can really do other than cope every friday—and sometimes saturday—night.” hanni explains, flopping onto the bed and returning to fetal position. “can you put the blanket over me, please? i’m tired and cold… please.”

danielle frowns before covering her roommates body with her weighted blanket, sighing before she returns to her bed, laying down and recollecting all her memories from the night before–of you.

—

you’re late. of course you’re late on the second week of classes, as if last weeks twenty minute surprise appearance wasn’t humbling enough. 

as you rush out of your apartment, you’re met with jiyoung standing right by the exit, as if she’s been waiting for you—she probably has. this has happened at least once a week last year. she greets you with her signature smile and a small piece of chocolate, a gesture that would be sweet if you weren’t in such a hurry. you force a smile and mumble a quick thanks, but you know what’s coming next. the compliments, the small talk, the forced out, cliché lines she always uses. it’s all part of her routine, but you really don’t have the time for it today. you need to get to class.

fifteen minutes later, you’re finally free from jiyoung’s conversation, but you’re also running dangerously late. again. you sprint across campus, your heart pounding in your chest as you mentally prepare for the inevitable stares and the professor’s disapproving remarks.

when you finally reach the classroom, you throw the door open a little too forcefully. the room falls silent as heads turn to face you, the sudden interruption catching everyone’s attention. you freeze for a second, cringing at yourself when you’re caught in the spotlight, before the professor’s voice cuts through the silence.

“late on the second week? what was it, kim… no, yang…” he trails off, squinting at you as if trying to remember your name.

you clear your throat, feeling your face heat up. “l/n, l/n y/n,” you correct him, trying to keep your voice steady.

“well, you’re lucky i’ve just started the lecture. please hurry and take a seat, you’ve already made quite the impression.”

“sorry, sir,” you mumble, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration as you scan the room for an empty seat. most of the rows are full, and the weight of all those eyes on you makes your skin prickle with discomfort.

finally, you spot an open seat in the fourth row from the top, right at the edge. you hurry over and drop your bag beside the chair, quickly unzipping it to pull out your laptop. your hands move with practiced speed, signing in and opening a page for notes before setting your bag on the empty seat next to you. you look up, hoping to catch up on what you’ve missed so far. 

and that’s when you see her.

danielle. she’s sitting just two seats away from you, her gaze locked on yours the moment you look up. her big brown eyes, framed by those impossibly long lashes, are full of recognition—and something else you can’t quite place, and why are they sparkling? your jaw tenses as you force yourself to look away, zipping up your bag with a little more force than necessary. three seats. that’s all that separates you from the girl who showed up at your doorstep last friday, the one you dismissed without a second thought. and now here she is, sitting way too close for comfort, her presence making the air around you feel heavier.

of course you blindly chose the spot next to her. the new girl who filed a complaint, only to have the door shut on her. it’s just your luck.

you catch her in your peripheral staring at you for a few more seconds before she redirects her attention towards the professor. you let out a breath of relief, now you just have to get through the next hour and fifty minutes near the cute girl you were an ass to.

–

as soon as the class ends, you’re out the door without sparing a glance at danielle. she watches you hurry out, noticing how you started packing up your things five minutes before class was even dismissed. it’s like you couldn’t wait to get away.

you make your way to the engineering building, where you know your roommate yunjin’s class ended a bit earlier. when you spot her in the lobby, you walk up with a bothered look on your face.

“good morning…?” yunjin greets you, her smirk showing she’s amused by your expression.

“you won’t believe who’s in my sociology class,” you say, still reeling from the encounter.

“everyone takes sociology, even the finance freaks,” she replies, shrugging as if it’s not a big deal.

“nevermind.” you roll your eyes, scoffing. “whatever, let’s grab a bite. i’m hungry.”

“you always are,” yunjin chuckles, stepping beside you.

the two of you end up at your favorite local thai place, sharing a large bowl of fried rice. it’s a familiar routine—since freshman year, you’ve known one bowl is more than enough to satisfy both of you. the memory of that first time, half-drunk and thinking the portions would be small, makes you smile despite your lingering annoyance.

as you chew on your second bite, glancing at a notification on your phone, yunjin’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “so, who’s in your sociology class?”

“danielle,” you reply, not looking up from your phone.

“who?”

“the girl from friday.”

yunjin frowns, trying to recall. “at our party? there wasn’t anyone i didn’t know–”

“no, no. the girl you made me deal with. she knocked on the door—big eyes, long lashes.”

“oh, her,” yunjin hums, finally understanding. “what about her?”

“i closed the door on her that night after she complained or whatever. i didn’t think much of it, but then i was late to class because jiyoung wanted to talk to me, and i picked a random spot… turns out it was three fucking seats away from her—danielle.”

yunjin laughs, thankfully before she can take another bite of rice. “seriously?”

“shut up.”

“that’s hilarious. you think she’s going to give you shit?”

“i mean,” you poke at your rice, hesitating, “she doesn’t seem like she will…”

but even as you say it, the thought nags at you. danielle doesn’t seem like the type to hold a grudge—polite and sweet even when you were being arrogant—almost too good to be true. she looks like she belongs in a fairy tale, with her princess-like appearance and demeanor. meanwhile, you feel like the ugly villain in her story, lurking under the bridge, ready to cast a spell or something like that. the more you think about it, the more ridiculous it seems.

“then you’ll be fine, you were fine shutting the door on her anyway.”

you were fine, but that version of you was under the influence of cheap beer and too focused on going back to your conversation than dealing with someone’s complaint—even if it were from danielle.

“i guess.”

–

the next time you host a party, the volume’s turned down by two notches. you tell yourself it’s because yunjin’s been saying “huh?” to you more often, but deep down, you know that’s not the real reason.

you’ve also decided to stick with one can of beer instead of three. even yujin seemed surprised when you declined the second. 

these parties used to be at jake’s place, but he argued they should be at yours since the ra is madly in love with you, and your place is slightly bigger. you were against it at first, but socializing never hurt, and it made you happy to see others happy. you’d also be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the occasional expensive drink that someone brought when their paycheck had been a bit fatter that week.

now, you’re leaning against the counter while minji rummages through a cupboard, searching for spare plastic cups. you take a sip from your sprite—the second can of the night, and surprisingly, neither has been alcoholic (you don’t count the bitter can of beer, it’s only five percent alcohol). yunjin’s voice cuts through the music just loud enough for you to hear, “you think that girl will show up again? give you shit?”

“i’d hope not.” you pretend it’s a truthful statement, your tone firm, a little snarky, and a bit confident, but there’s a small part of you that hopes she does. you catch yourself imagining her showing up in her oversized sleepwear again, her eyes wide, her voice so soft and sweet it makes your chest tighten a little. 

“and if she does?”

“i’ll shut her out again.”

“and if you show up late, then sit three seats away from her again?”

“ignorance.” you sip on your sprite again, licking your lips to savor something that actually satisfies your tastebuds. 

“you’re good at that.”

“aw, thanks.” you say bitterly, hearing yunjin snicker as she tears open a new pack of red plastic cups. “asshat.”

your orange-haired roommate leans against the counter across from you, then says, “i think jungwon brought penjamin.” his infamous pen, the one you took way too many hits of last time that it had you seeing the stars. 

“not again, i don’t trust myself.”

she laughs at you again, “i don’t trust you either, let’s stick with a hit or two instead of five.”

“and you need to stick with a few drinks instead of passing out on the floor again. you’re lucky you were leaning against the couch.”

“womp womp.” you can’t believe her, what an idiot.

“say that again when you wake up with your legs in the fucking blinds, or something. i still don’t know how you don’t have liver damage, and doesn’t that affect your performance on the court?”

“conditioned to drink and score three’s.”

“whatever.” you sigh, then hear a few knocks from the door.

yunjin raises her brows, then chuckles, “hey, it’s your lovergirl.”

“she’s not my— ugh. be right back.” 

lovergirl, yunjin is going to wake up upside down in her closet if she keeps it up. there’s no chance that she’s attracted to you in the slightest, not with your first impressions. the thought makes you a little dissapointed, but you shake your head, you’re being ridiculous again. 

you shake the thought away, forcing yourself to focus getting to your door and not tripping on the shoe that had been blindlessly kicked off. there’s a quiet anticipation simmering beneath your calm exterior as the music gets more faint in your ears. you tell yourself you’re being stupid, but the truth is harder to ignore—there’s a part of you that wants her to be at the door, even if it’s just to scold you again.

you open the door, and there she is—miss lovergirl herself.

“another party?” she asks, her tone light, almost teasing.

“are you going to tell me to shut the whole thing down? still haven't invested in headphones, have you?”

“actually, i wasn’t going to—the shutting down part, i have headphones being delivered tomorrow.” she replies, smiling. maybe your brows furrow, just a little. “but the music is a little quieter, that i noticed, so maybe my efforts did pay off.” she pauses, then adds, “anyway, my roommate told me there’s no getting through to you about these parties. so, i came here to give you this.” 

she holds out a keychain with a cardholder attached, and you see a picture inside—a photo of you and your little brother at your high school graduation. he’s about twelve in the picture, braces on and cheeks still chubby. it’s one of your favorite photos, and your eyes widen as you take it from her slowly, almost carefully.

“where’d you get this?” you ask, voice a bit more cautious than you intended.

“you dropped it under your seat last lecture. seemed like you were in such a rush to leave, or to avoid me…?” she tilts her head, batting those impossibly long lashes.

you realize she’s not in her sleepwear this time. she’s dressed in everyday clothes—a zip-up over a fitted white shirt, jeans, and some well-worn sneakers. a nike cap sits snugly on her head, her long, wavy hair flowing down in a way that makes you look twice. she’s wearing light makeup, and it strikes you for the first time how nice her lips are, and—

“um, thanks,” you mutter.

“it’s no problem.”

“are you going to ask me to turn the volume down now?” 

she shakes her head, adjusting the backpack slipping down her shoulder. “no, but i'd appreciate it. you’ve already made baby steps.”

if it had been anyone else saying that, you’d have rolled your eyes, maybe even scoffed in their face. but there’s something about the way danielle says it—so genuinely, so kindly—that catches you off guard. you’re used to sharp words and snide remarks, not this… breath of fresh air, this three a.m. glass of water in the form of a person.

“right, okay,” you manage to say.

“well, i'll get going then. my roommate’s friend is coming over to watch a movie with us, so we’d appreciate it if you could maybe turn it down. but, that’s up to you, mate.” 

“oh, okay, yeah.” you feel like you’re melting into a puddle. what is going on with you? “i’ll see what i can do.”

“night then.”

“night?”

she walks off, your eyes follow her until she reacehs the end of the hall. it was the most casual encounter you’ve ever had in a bit, and yet, it felt like so much more. 

–

haerin sits back, watching without a word as hanni and minji bicker over the remote, their voices rising slightly above the hum of the tv. hanni has her arms crossed tightly over her chest, a scowl forming when minji suggests yet another sappy romance. haerin half expects them to start wrestling for control, but just before the tension hits a breaking point, the sound of the door lock twisting stops them. both heads turn to see danielle stepping inside, her hand raised in a small wave, a polite smile on her lips.

“sorry i’m late,” danielle apologizes.

“you’re good,” hanni replies, running her fingers through her hair to fix it. “movie time? can you choose, please…”

“yeah! let me get changed first, okay?”

“okay, okay, but hurry or else minji’s gonna have my limbs cut off or something. and we both know haerin would rather watch than save either of us.” hanni jokes, drawing a chuckle from haerin and a playful glare from minji. 

a few minutes later, danielle is back in an old t-shirt and plaid pajama pants. she drops herself right between hanni and minji, effectively acting as a buffer. she grabs the remote, settling under the blanket as her legs casually stretch across hanni's lap.

“where were you, by the way?” hanni asks, feeling danielle’s legs settle more comfortably over her own. “if the bus was late, you could’ve called.”

“my bus came early. i just stopped by y/n’s,” danielle replies casually.

minji’s head snaps toward danielle so fast it’s a wonder she doesn’t get whiplash. haerin even lets out a small gasp of “what?”

“y/n? you mean l/n y/n?” minji echoes, her tone filled with disbelief. “you went to her place?”

danielle nods. “she dropped something in the class we have together, so i returned it.”

“and she didn’t bite your head off?” minji asks, eyes wide. “you’re really something, danielle.”

danielle just laughs softly, her fingers scrolling through the endless netflix catalog in search of a movie they all might actually agree on. she seems unfazed by the shock that mentioning your name has caused, a slight smile playing on her lips. she can’t quite understand the big deal. you’ve been… normal, for the most part—pretty normal, actually, in the three times she’s spoken to you.

“she’s really not that bad,” danielle shrugs, finally stopping on a rom-com that catches her eye. “i can fix her.”

“you can what?” hanni swivels her head toward danielle, eyes wide in disbelief.

“what?” danielle grins. “she doesn’t bite.”

“well, her friend yunjin does,” hanni mutters, thinking back to the group project from hell with yunjin, who’d spent every meeting hungover and useless. “she’s probably just like the people she hangs out with.”

“no, i bet she’s nicer deep down.”

“you’re too pure for this world,” minji murmurs, feeling danielle’s head lean on her shoulder. “she’s got a bad reputation, you know.”

“well, she turned the volume down for us,” danielle insists.

“she did?” hanni raises an eyebrow, surprised.

“yeah, just before i visited her. i told her we’d be having a movie night and said i’d appreciate it if she toned it down a bit. now we can barely feel the bass.”

hanni thinks for a moment. maybe the music is a bit quieter, but she’s gotten so used to it, she barely notices the difference. minji and haerin, on the other hand, don't deal with the noise often—haerin lives with her parents, and minji’s dorm is on the other wing.

danielle presses play, and the conversation shifts. they all settle in, pushing the topic of you, the downstairs neighbor, out of their minds as they focus on the opening scenes of the movie.

hanni leans into haerin, a smile on her lips as her legs tangle with danielle’s. “you’re so interesting, man,” she mutters, half-amused, half-bewildered.

–

there aren't any assigned seats—it's university, for crying out loud. still, you find yourself three seats away from danielle again, like last time, pretending not to notice her as you settle in, determined not to drop anything today. you set your things down carefully, opening up your laptop and pulling out your ipad, keeping your eyes firmly on the screen.

out of the corner of her eye, danielle watches you fumble with the apple pen, spinning it between your ring and middle finger. she sees it slip from your grip and clatter to the floor beside you. you let out a soft sigh, standing to retrieve it, making your way down two rows. when you straighten up and head back, you catch danielle trying to hide a smile, her shoulders shaking with quiet laughter.

“what’s so funny?” you ask, a little defensive.

“your pen-spinning skills,” danielle says, turning fully toward you with that same amused smile. “slippery fingers?”

“shouldn’t you be reviewing before the lecture?”

“i usually get here fifteen minutes early,” she replies, still grinning. “i’ve already done that.”

“whatever.” you drop back into your seat, tapping away at your keyboard as the professor approaches the front, fiddling with the hdmi cable. you open your notes app, trying to ignore the way danielle’s laughter still lingers in the air.

“you know i don’t bite, right?” her voice breaks your focus.

“what?”

she nods at the empty seats between you. “you’re sitting pretty far… come sit next to me.”

“i’m not getting up. my stuff’s already out.”

danielle rolls her eyes, moving the desk platform in front of her as she stands, gathering her things without a second thought, and before you know it, she’s dropping into the seat beside you. you weren’t expecting that—her choosing to sit next to you so boldly. but there she is, right next to you, with that grin stretching across her face as she adjusts her notebook.

“there, lazy bum,” she teases, her tone light, eyes flicking back to the professor as he sets up the projection.

you find yourself staring, caught off guard by how close she is. she smells sweet—like cherries, with a mix of amber and jasmine. you quickly shift your gaze back to your laptop, opening your calendar and planner and, almost instinctively, the tab with the jacket you’ve been eyeing for weeks.

when you steal another glance at danielle, she’s put on a pair of glasses. stupid, adorable glasses that make her look even cuter—something you didn’t think was possible. 

you can’t help the small grin that creeps onto your face as you focus back on the slides on the big screen, but your mind is still partially with her, sitting beside you, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off her skin.

—

for the next month, sociology becomes your favorite class—not because of the subject, but because it means you get almost two hours near danielle. she’s just as sweet as she looks, always greeting you with a warm smile and tossing out casual small talk that somehow feels more personal every time. she compliments you now and then, little things like “your hair looks nice today” or “i like your shoes,” which leaves you more flustered than you’d care to admit. soon enough, it's routine—you both leave class together, walking side by side until you reach the main lobby of the science building. danielle always waves goodbye with that bright smile, her eyes sparkling, even when the sky is overcast. you smile back, feeling a little bashful, but somehow, it feels right.

sometimes, you even meet up at the entrance of your little dorm complex to head to class together. danielle's just a floor above, so you run into her in the elevator sometimes too. there’s something about her—something so effortlessly charming and magnetic. it’s like she’s a light, and you’re a moth, drawn into her presence without even realizing it.

what you don’t realize is that jiyoung, your ra, has noticed these little interactions. she catches glimpses now and then, her curiosity piqued.

after another class ends, you wave goodbye to danielle, planning to meet up with yunjin, but before you can leave, jiyoung intercepts you. 

"hey, didn’t see you this morning,” she says, her tone casual but her eyes narrowing slightly. “i haven’t been seeing you around as much, actually."

"oh, yeah… i’ve been…” you start, your gaze flicking past her to danielle, who’s almost out of the building. jiyoung looks in the same direction to see danielle as well, her brows furrow just a bit. you continue, “um, spending more time with this girl in my sociology class."

"right, danielle? she’s on the floor above you, right?”

“yeah…”

“hm,” jiyoung murmurs, more to herself than to you. “you’ve been spending a lot of time with her, haven’t you?”

“i mean, yeah. she’s nice and—why does it matter?”

“you’re not into her, are you?”

the question catches you off guard, like a punch you didn’t see coming. you stare at jiyoung like she’s lost her mind. “w-what? n-no, no, she’s just— you know, we’re friends. we’re friendly.”

“nothing more, right?”

“i mean, no, but even if it were… why does it matter to you?”

jiyoung’s gaze drops to the floor, and she mumbles, “i don’t know? i mean, you said you didn’t even want to date.”

you pinch the bridge of your nose, exhaling in frustration. “look, i’ve got to meet up with yunjin. i’ll see you around, okay?”

you turn to leave, but jiyoung’s soft scoff stops you in your tracks. she hesitates for a moment before speaking again.

“by the way,” she says, her tone light but pointed. you turn your head slightly, just enough for her to see the edge of your expression. “you can’t party this weekend. there’s been an increase in complaints.”

you pivot to face her fully, opening your mouth to argue but then closing it again. you bite the inside of your lip, letting the frustration simmer before you finally nod, muttering a resigned, “fine.”

jiyoung watches you, her expression unreadable, as you walk away, but you don’t look back. the weekend suddenly feels a lot quieter than you planned.

—

even if you’d wanted to party, it wouldn't have been an option. yunjin’s gone home for the weekend to help her sister, and you’re stuck in your dorm, feeling sicker than you’ve ever felt.

the day started off fine, just a light headache that you shrugged off. but somewhere between the gym and a quick grocery run, everything went downhill. by the time you made it back to your place, it felt like your body had been run over by a truck. your head throbbed, every limb ached, and a wave of dizziness nearly had you collapsing against the wall as soon as you stepped inside.

you barely made it to the kitchen, dropping the paper bag of groceries onto the counter before stumbling toward your bedroom. the cold hit you like a slap to the face, making you shiver uncontrollably. you rummaged through your closet for the thickest sweatshirt and sweatpants you could find, pulling them on with shaky hands. 

you didn’t even think to check your temperature; the pounding in your head and the chills wracking your body were enough to know you were in trouble. grabbing two ibuprofen from the drawer, you swallowed them dry with a couple of forced gulps of water, then collapsed onto your bed. 

you pulled the covers around you, but they did little to stop the violent shivers. your teeth chattered, and you curled in on yourself, hugging your knees to your chest as if that would somehow keep the cold at bay. every breath felt heavy, every blink longer than the last, until finally, exhaustion pulled you under.

—

the music is noticeably quieter these days, sparing your hearing and everyone else a floor above or below you. really, it’s all danielle's doing. she's somehow found your weakness—those soft, pleading eyes and that gentle voice asking you to turn it down. it’s a saturday night, and normally she’d hear the faint beats of charli xcx or troye sivan vibrating up through the floor, but tonight there’s nothing. 

danielle seems to be the only one in her shared dorm—and probably the whole building—who feels unsettled by the lack of music. the silence is almost unnerving. 

“finally, i can take a nap without those headphones on,” hanni sighs, dropping face-first onto her bed like a log. 

danielle, leaning against her bedframe, bites her lip. “don’t you think it’s weird though? no party tonight?”

“weird? dani, this is a miracle,” hanni mumbles, already half-asleep. “it’s been months since she hasn’t partied, and that was only because we were all gone during summer break.”

but as hanni's breathing evens out and she drifts off, danielle’s frown deepens. it is weird. you’ve never missed a saturday night. she doesn’t even have your number to text and check if everything’s alright.

minutes pass, and her mind races with possibilities—maybe you’re just tired, or busy with something else, or… sick? before she knows it, danielle is up and moving, driven by a strange concern she doesn’t fully understand. she tucks hanni in properly, pulling the blanket up over her instead of letting it dangle off the bed. 

once she's sure hanni is comfortable, she heads for the door, slipping on her slides and grabbing her key. she feels a small surge of determination as she steps into the hallway. if something’s wrong, she needs to know. danielle isn’t sure what she’ll find out, but she's already halfway down the hall, her feet carrying her to your place almost on their own.

she gets to your door quickly, fixing her hair because you’re somehow the only person who makes her feel the need to fuss over her appearance. 

danielle knocks twice, softly at first, just enough to be heard over normal conversation, but there's no answer. she waits, listening for any sound from inside, even from your orange-haired roommate—but nothing. she knocks again, a little louder this time, about the same level as when you party. still nothing. 

determined, she finally bangs on the door with all her might and shouts, "y/n! hello?" her voice echoes in the hallway, and a few curious heads peek out from behind their own doors, wondering what’s going on.

there's a long moment of silence before she hears a faint, “coming! coming...” it sounds like you, but groggier, almost as if the sound is muffled by the door between you two.

danielle waits, her heart pounding in her chest, until the door opens just a crack, and you peek out, looking utterly exhausted. 

“y/n?”

“w-what, what...” you murmur, your voice barely more than a whisper, and slightly slurred, like you’ve been asleep for days. "who— danielle? what are you doing here? there's no party," you mutter, breathing heavily like you’ve just run a mile. "you don’t have to… have to yell at me."

“i’m not here to yell at you, i never yell at you, silly," danielle says softly, a small smile on her face. "can i come in?”

you hum in agreement, and she pushes the door open further, stepping inside. 

the apartment is dimly lit, with only the glow from the streetlights outside and a small lamp in the living room. danielle’s eyes dart around—she’s never actually been inside before, just caught glimpses through the doorway during those parties. it’s surprisingly clean, smelling of lavender and fresh laundry instead of the stale beer or weed she expected. 

you stumble forward, catching yourself on the kitchen counter, your legs shaky and unsteady. 

danielle rushes over, her hand reaching for your arm. “are you okay?”

“y-yeah, i’m fine," you mumble, but your voice is rough, strained. 

she flicks on a light, and you wince, shielding your eyes with the back of your hand. danielle guides you to the couch, sitting you down gently. you slump back into the cushions, and she takes a closer look—your hair is stuck to your forehead, cheeks rosy, and there’s a dullness in your usually sharp eyes.

without thinking, she presses the back of her hand to your forehead, feeling the intense heat radiating from your skin. “you’re burning up,” she says softly, concern etched in her voice. “how long have you been like this?”

“i– i don’t know… i’m so tired…” you murmur, your eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

“let’s get you to your bed,” danielle suggests. “can you show me?”

you nod weakly, and she helps you to your feet. you sway slightly, leaning heavily on her as she tries to steady you. you’re taller, heavier, and she’s not exactly built for this—but she does her best, slipping an arm around your waist to support you.

your head drops forward, and you breathe slowly against her shoulder. danielle's heart races as she feels the warmth of your breath, and when you look up, your faces are inches apart, close enough that she can feel the heat radiating off you. her cheeks warm up, she wonders if your fever is contagious.

but she shakes it off, tightening her grip on you. “come on,” she whispers. “let’s get you to bed.”

you lead her to your room, and she’s a little surprised by how tidy it is. the walls are painted in soft, earthy tones, the furniture minimalistic and neatly arranged. polaroids and film photos cover the walls, snapshots of you and your friends, some of family, too. there’s a warmth to it, a sense of calm that she hadn’t expected. she notices a movie poster above your bed—something she doesn’t recognize. you collapse onto the bed immediately, curling up into a tight ball, yanking the nearest blanket over you with a groan.

danielle watches you for a moment, then quietly slips out of the room. you lie there, thoughts buzzing in your foggy mind. how did she know you were sick? why is she here? did she come just for you? did you forget something? but the craziest thought of all is that danielle is in your apartment, just the two of you. the realization sends a tiny thrill through your chest.

she returns a few minutes later, carrying a bowl, a bottle of medicine, and a thermometer. she sits beside you on the edge of the bed, nudging you over gently so you're lying flat on your back, your tired eyes meeting hers. she sets the bowl beside you and slides the thermometer into your mouth. you stare at her, feeling a bit dazed, and she offers a small, reassuring smile.

when it beeps, she pulls it out and checks the screen, her brow furrowing slightly. “you’ve got a fever, it’s pretty high,” she murmurs, setting the thermometer down and reaching for a water bottle. “i kind of went through your place to find this, i hope that’s okay.”

you nod weakly, letting her help you sit up on your elbows. she presses the bottle to your lips, and you sip slowly, a few drops spilling out and dribbling down your chin. you reach up, embarrassed, to wipe them away, but danielle just grins at you gently, wiping them with her sleeve.

she places the bottle down and dips her hand into the bowl. you lie back, too tired to care, hearing the soft sound of water being wrung out. then, without warning, she presses a cool, damp cloth to your forehead, and you wince at the sudden chill, a small whine escaping your lips. danielle clicks her tongue softly, using her thumb to swipe a stray drop of water away from the corner of your eye. 

“i know it’s cold, but it’ll help bring your fever down,” she explains gently.

you feel her hand slide down, and suddenly her fingers are wrapped around yours. her thumb brushes over your knuckles in slow, soothing circles, and you let out a shaky breath, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest. you hum softly, the tension easing out of your body.

"is it okay if i stay for a bit?" she asks quietly. "i don't want you to be alone, but this is your place, after all."

“p-please,” you whisper, gripping her hand tighter, needing the comfort. “please stay.”

she smiles warmly, nodding, and you feel the weight of her presence, steady and calming, beside you. “i’ll stay close then,” she promises softly. “don’t worry.”

—

you wake up with a low groan, feeling like you’ve just been hit by a bus. every muscle in your body aches, and your head throbs just a bit. blinking against the dim light filtering through the blinds, you sit up slowly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. you look around, trying to get your bearings. 

your gaze falls on the bowl of water beside the bed, with two rags soaking in it, and the thermometer resting on the edge. memories from before you passed out come flooding back, and your cheeks heat up at the thought of danielle sitting by your side, taking care of you. your heart does a little flip at the memory, and you shake your head, trying to steady your thoughts.

there’s no sign of her in your room. she’s not in your bed, and you exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. honestly, if you had woken up to find her next to you, you’re pretty sure your heart would’ve just exploded right then and there. 

with a bit more urgency than necessary, you get up and make your way to the living room. your steps are quiet as you peek around the corner, and there she is, curled up on the couch. she’s asleep, head resting on a pillow, her zip-up hoodie pulled over her legs like a makeshift blanket. the sight tugs at something in your chest, a mix of guilt and gratitude. she stayed the whole night.

you hurry back to your room, grabbing another blanket from your bed, and return to her side. you drape it over her carefully, making sure not to wake her. danielle shifts slightly, mumbling something you can’t quite make out. her face softens in sleep, and you find yourself smiling without meaning to. 

the morning light slips through the blinds, casting a warm glow across her face, illuminating the soft curve of her cheek, the way her lashes fan out against her skin. she looks peaceful, so pretty in the soft light, and you let yourself enjoy the sight for just a moment longer than you probably should.

you let out a small sigh and decide to leave her be, tiptoeing away quietly. but as you move, you can’t help but glance back one last time, her serene expression etched into your memory. then, feeling a strange mix of comfort and nerves, you head to your room to get yourself ready.

— 

danielle wakes up only thirty minutes after you, sitting up a minute after she’s blinked herself awake. she sits up and catches you on the floor by the coffee table, knees drawn to your chest, a bowl of fruit and two pieces of toast in front of you. her vision clears, and she catches you popping a blueberry into your mouth, scrolling absently through your phone.

"good morning..." she mutters, stretching and rubbing her eyes.

you turn at the sound of her voice, surprised to see her up already. she's quicker at waking up than you; you would have stayed in bed for another ten minutes at least, but the pounding in your head forced you up earlier. "hey, i didn’t think you’d stay the whole night."

“i just wanted to make sure you were alright," she explains, moving to sit next to you, mirroring your posture, knees tucked in. "i checked in on you during the night to change the rag on your head and everything, seems like you’re back to normal.”

“you didn’t have to, danielle,” you say, feeling a wave of gratitude mixed with embarrassment.

“but i wanted to.” she shrugs lightly, her eyes softening as she looks at you. “how are you feeling?”

“i took two advils before brushing my teeth," you say with a small smile. "feeling pretty great now.”

“i’m glad. your fever was pretty high.”

“was it?” you raise an eyebrow, grabbing a piece of strawberry and popping it into your mouth.

“yeah.” she picks a piece of kiwi from the bowl and eats it. “i was worried.”

you turn your head, meeting her gaze directly. her eyes look a bit tired, her face bare of makeup, but she still looks good—so natural, so effortlessly beautiful. a thought crosses your mind: you owe her for this, for being so kind and caring when she didn’t have to be.

";ast night i didn’t hear any loud noises from downstairs," danielle continues, “there wasn’t a party going on, and i got a little concerned.”

you chuckle, setting your phone aside, resting your cheek against your knee. “so you came because… there wasn’t a party?”

“it was pretty suspicious,” she insists with a playful grin. “then you opened the door looking like you’d just fought a bear, stumbling around. it was kind of funny, and cute.”

her compliment catches you off guard. you turn away quickly, pretending to be more interested in the fruit than you are. "thank you, danielle," you mumble. "i owe you."

“it’s nothing,” she says softly. "as long as you’re okay, that’s all that matters." her words feel like a direct hit to your heart, it’s as if cupid had a gun instead of a bow and shot you right in the chest, making you feel strangely warm and fluttery inside.

“you’re so… hey, what about your roommate? isn't she wondering where you are?”

“oh, hanni,” danielle giggles, checking her phone for any messages but finding none. “she was passed out before i left last night. it's not even ten yet, so she’s probably still asleep.” she stands up, and you rise with her, feeling a slight pang of disappointment. “but i should go check on her, and fix myself up. i probably look like a mess right now.”

you look perfect. it almost lips right off your tongue, but you manage to shut your mouth.

you lead her to the door, wishing she could stay a bit longer, just a little while more. “of course,” you say, feeling a knot tighten in your chest. “thank you again for everything.”

danielle places a gentle hand on your shoulder. “it’s nothing,” she says warmly. “i’ll see you around.”

you open the door, watching her step outside, but she turns back, hesitating. before she can say anything else, you speak first. "hey, danielle?"

“yes?”

“are you free later?”

“i’m free all day,” she replies, though she adds, “but i might run errands with hanni.”

“right, well.” you play with your hair nervously. danielle tilts her head, noticing the shift in your demeanor. “you should come over tonight. i’ll cook you dinner—to repay you, of course.”

she chuckles, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “that’s quite intimate,” she teases. “is this your way of asking me out?”

“uh—” your heart races, but you nod, swallowing hard. “yes. and i'd hope your way of accepting is… coming over around six?”

danielle's smile widens, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “i’ll see you then, as long as you’re not sick again.”

“i’d count on that if it meant having you take care of me again.”

she glances away, hiding a smile, and you catch sight of the tiny moles on her face. "you're really good at this," she says softly.

“i’m really not,” you admit, “but it’s you, so i thought i’d try a little harder.”

she rolls her eyes playfully, then steps closer and presses a soft kiss to your cheek. your skin heats up instantly, heart racing faster than before. she pulls back with a grin, waving as she says, “see you tonight, six p.m.!”

“see you…” you reply, still stunned as you watch her walk down the hall. she glances back twice, each time your smiles mirroring and growing wider.

you wonder if you should cut down on the weekly parties, maybe dedicate more time to being with her. but that might be getting ahead of yourself. for now, all you know is that you have to prepare the best dinner ever tonight—something that might just earn you another kiss, maybe on the lips this time.

[random-potat]

˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ heads up

pairings: ni-ki x reader ft. danielle of new jeans and mentions of jake

synopsis: sometimes getting hit on the head by a baseball can be something to bond over.

word count: 1063

warnings: mild swearing, poor attempts at humour

a/n: as somebody who has always been hit in the face by a sports ball growing up, hopefully this is a meet cute that can actually happen to me but thats probably still unrealistic lol. anyways here's a short little ni-ki oneshot!! i still dont know how i feel about it but its good enough ε-(ｰдｰ) will most likely be posting my jongseob smau soon so that will be my main focus :)) so oneshots may not be posted as often cause this writer cannot multitask :p

Sitting in class, you continuously check your phone, counting down the time until class ends. 

You feel a nudge on your shoulder, waking you up from your daze. Turning to the person beside you, Danielle whispers to you. “Mr. Hong may be smart and nice, but why does his voice have to be so gentle?” She puts her head down on the desk. "Like, it makes me sooo sleepy.”

"Agreed,” you say as you check your phone again for what seems like the 127th time.

“Why do you keep checking your phone? You got a hot date?” Dani teases.

You roll your eyes and respond, “I wish. More like a date to the dentist. Have to leave as soon as class ends, or else I'll have to wait thirty minutes for the next train.”

"Well, that sucks,"  Dani sighs. "Honestly, knowing you, you may not be able to make it considering how slow you run.”

You slapped her arm. “Hey! So not true. I’m just preserving energy.”

“Mmhm. Sure.”

Five minutes before class ends, you start to pack your things, getting ready to dash outside the classroom.

As the bell rings, you quickly run down the stairs, saying a quick goodbye to Dani as well as Mr. Hong. You couldn’t really care as people gave you odd looks for rushing towards the train station; some people may have thought that you just really needed to take a shit.

On the way to the train station, you have to pass by the sports field. Being completely unaware of your surroundings, you fail to hear someone shout toward you.

“Hey! Heads up!”

All of a sudden, a hard object hits you square on the side of your head, making you lose balance and fall to the ground. 

Aware of your position on the ground, a wave of embarrassment took over. You lay there for a bit, not wanting to make eye contact with the people around you. “Not gonna lie, you would think somebody would come and ask me if I’m alright,” you thought.

As you start to get up from the ground, the sound of footsteps can be heard running towards you.

"Hey, are you okay?” A tired yet deep and husky voice says

You look up from your position, seeing a boy around your age with a baseball mitt around his hand. “Why is this man so freaking tall?”

You watch as he mouths words, but no actual sound is coming out of those plumped, nevertheless sort of chapped lips.

He shakes your shoulder lightly. “Excuse me, are you okay?”

You shake your head, getting out of your daze, although that may have been a mistake, seeing that it made you more dizzy.

The boy reaches his hand out, and you grab them as he hoists you back up.

“I’m so sorry, that was quite a hit; it must’ve hurt,” he starts. “Normally Jake has better aim, and when he doesn't, I can normally catch it,” he says as he scratches the nape of his neck.

“It’s completely fine; it totally doesn’t hurt at all.” You respond nonchalantly. 

“Do you want some ice? I can get someone to get you some," he says as he grabs your hand and pulls you towards the practice field. “Here, just come sit on the bench and I’ll grab you some ice,” he says as he ushers a team member to get some ice.

“No, no, it's okay. I'm good. Kind of running late for something anyway, plus it really doesn't hurt.” You attempt to stand up.

The boy gently pushes you back on the bench. "Look, I'm sure whatever you have to do can wait, cause even if you say it doesn't hurt, the side of your head is definitely saying something else.”

You reach up to where the ball hit you, feeling a swollen bump starting to form. “Fine, you can give me ice, but after that, I'll be on my way to the station.”

He gives you a stern look. “Um, no, we still have to go with the standard precautions. You could have a concussion right now.”

"Look, I'm sure if I had one, I would know.”

“No, you're staying here. Practice ends in fifteen minutes anyway. So stay put.” He hands you a plastic bag of ice that his teammate got.

Being left with no choice, you watch as he runs to the center of the field. Watching as he throws and catches the ball around.

Not really knowing anything about baseball, you plug your earbuds in and slowly close your eyes to rest. “I'm already late at this point; I might as well rest.”

Little did you know, resting your eyes caused a little misunderstanding with the boy that had helped you. As he practiced, he took small glances at you every now and then. Seeing your eyes start to close caused him to immediately think you were about to faint.

Worried that you just became unconscious, the boy was unaware of the baseball that was being thrown towards him.

With history repeating itself, the boy fell face flat to the ground, a swollen bump starting to form on his head.

Waking up from your quick nap, you look beside you to see the same boy holding an ice pack on his head, similar to you.

“What the hell just happened?” You questioned.

“You know it turns out Jake over there really does have bad aim,” he jokes. “Or maybe I was just a teensy bit worried about you.”

“Worried about what?”

He explains, "Well, you closed your eyes; I thought you had fainted.” 

"Well, I didn't.”

He sighs. “Yeah, I can see that now.”

The two of you guys sat there with an awkward silence surrounding you. Feeling a bit better, you decide to grab your things, turning toward the boy beside you.

“You know, I never got your name. It would be nice to know who my hero is.”

“I'm Nishimura Riki, but people just call me Ni-ki. You?”

“I'm YN. Nice to meet you, Ni-ki, and thanks for helping me.”

He smiles, “Anytime.”

As you begin to turn away, a faraway voice can be heard.

“Hey! Heads up!”

You turn around and see Ni-ki in front of you with a baseball in his hand.

He screams towards his teammate, “You know Jake, you really do have shit aim!”

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[f1girliefics]

F1 Drivers when Someone is Flirting With Them - Preferences

Max Verstappen, Danniel Ricciardo, Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Charles Leclerc, Carlos Sainz x Reader

Warning: Smut

Scenario: You were out with your boyfriend, having an amazing time at a club when suddenly a girl came up and started flirting with him, right in front of you.

She was clearly a bit drunk, so you tried to be nice and tell her you are his girlfriend, but she didn't listen.

She kept on flirting no matter what he said, suddenly, she turned to you and complimented your dress.

"I also love your make-up. Is your lipgloss Fenty?"

"No. It's his cum." you replied with the most serious expression.

Max Verstappen

He was in the middle of a sip from his drink and he spat all of it out on the floor.

Both of them were too speechless to say anything, so you took the opportunity.

"This is the part where you leave." you said and the girl quickly nodded and left.

Max watched you as your eyes followed her before you turned back to him and he still couldn't believe what you just said. 

"You are something else." he said as he finally laughed along with you.

"You know I was half joking, you can make it true." you suggested and Max didn't need to be told twice as he dragged you back to your hotel room.

Daniel Ricciardo

He would laugh so loud everyone could hear it even with the loud music playing in the club.

He would laugh for so long, that the girl had to leave due to her embarrassment. 

"Lipgloss? Really?" he asked as he still laughed, it made you smile.

"Well, she wouldn't leave." you shrugged your shoulders as Daniel finally stopped and gave you a big kiss.

"She left now." he whispered into your ear.

"Looks like we are wearing the same brand." you said as you ran your thumb over his lips and laughed.

He soon followed with a roll of laughter. 

Lando Norris

Lando was about to say something when you spoke up.

What you said shocked him.

You were always so innocent and cute around him and everyone, so this was completely unexpected.

But he loved this side of you as well.

Completely unexpected, but he liked it very much.

You smiled at him so innocently and he wondered how could you just say that and then go back to being so nice?

"She annoyed me." you admitted and Lando nodded.

"She was annoying. Thank you for making her leave, I tried to push her but-"

"I saw, she just didn't get it... stupid bitch." you whispered the last part and Lando looked at you surprised.

"You have quite the mouth on you."

"Yeah, well I don't want anyone stealing my boyfriend..."

"Is that why you would wear my... hmm on your lips."

"I think we have done more... interesting things before."

"We have... we for sure have." he laughed as you smiled.

He knew you were no innocent little girl, but something about you talking like that really got his imagination flowing.

Oscar Piastri

Speechless.

Absolutely stunned.

Doesn't know what to do or say.

Zero clue.

The girl just awkwardly left as you smirked, making her finally leave.

You looked back at Oscar who was probably having a mental breakdown in complete silence right about now.

"So, I was thinking we could go to my parents for the summer." you said as you took a sip from your cocktail.

He finally came back and shook his head with a smile.

"How do you come up with this stuff?"

"What? Plans for the summer?"

"No... your lipgloss."

"Well, she was about to put your head straight into her boobs, so I had to say something."

"I love you."

"Love you too, Oscar."

Carlos Sainz

It actually took him a moment to fully process what you just said.

The girl was long gone, you drank another cocktail when he realized what just happened.

"Why would you use it as lipgloss?" he asked and you almost laughed at how late he was to the party.

"Well... why not?" you shrugged and laughed as he smiled, eyes still filled with confusion.

You had to explain to him later that you only said that so she would leave, you didn't actually have any lipgloss on.

He still wouldn't fully get it. But now the image of his cum on your lips couldn't leave his mind.

Charles Leclerc 

His eyes went wide as he held his laughter in, but he failed.

He actually turned to the girl and said, "This is your sign to move."

And she did, fast.

Charles smiled at you as you watched the woman leave.

"I love you so much." he said and you smiled at him. "You and your dirty mouth."

You laughed as he leaned in for a kiss.

A/N: Shoutout to CupcakKe's Squidward Nose lyrics when she said "So can I wear your cum as clear lipgloss?" for the inspo.

[literaila]

the brunch

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: satoru does not get jealous, just so everyone knows

a/n: (that previous statement was a lie) the brainrot is real

last part | next part

year four.

it’s a bit unusual for the house to be this filled, especially this early in the morning. 

chatter echoes throughout the space, loud exclamations, and secret whispers, all making up a terrible-sounding symphony. 

megumi and tsumiki are playing some elaborate board game with onlookers on the coffee table, both of them smiling proudly. 

satoru is trying to tidy up the many different plates and cups everyone's left lying around, laughing when shoko rolls her eyes at something he's just said. 

and you're in the kitchen, talking with nanami like you haven't seen him in several years--it's been three weeks. 

it's very strange for the four of you. to let anyone--not to mention a dozen people--intrude on your carefully planned out saturday mornings. to invite others into your world of burnt breakfasts and uncombed bedhead. 

but here you all are, managing. 

and you’d reminded satoru probably seventeen times—too many times, he thinks, with far too many knowing glances—that hosting was not something to be taken lightly (and that you weren’t going to help him ((both of you know that you are)). 

but he doesn’t mind this. 

the crowded house, or the many different phone calls he had to make about getting this party (which he swore wasn’t one) set up. the loud sounds or the inevitable cleanup he'll try to swindle his way out of. 

it’s quite nice. actually, satoru is a little proud of his makeshift brunch, and the fact that everyone came, and everyone seems happy. he likes that he can barely hear his thoughts, that there's nothing important enough for him to think about anyway. 

and honestly, with all of it going on, satoru should not be this discontented with the fact that you’re smiling at someone else. 

he invited nanami because he knows that you miss him and that you’re too embarrassed to admit that. or too proud, maybe. too forgiving. and he knows that you wouldn’t have done it yourself, had he not gotten involved. 

but still. should satoru really have to sit back and watch as you fawn over a man who wore a suit to casual brunch? 

no, he should not, thank you. 

"what's wrong with your face?" shoko asks him after the silence has drawn on for too long, sounding very uninterested. 

satoru shakes his head, snapping out of his daze. "what?" 

"you've got a weird look." 

"no, i don't." 

"it's like that time that you chugged the entire carton of expired milk someone left in the fridge." 

"don't remind me," he says, trying to put on a theatrical wince, but he just ends up looking back at you, with a blank face. 

there is no time for joking, or flamboyancy, or caring about anything else in the world. 

shoko does the same, her eyes trailing where his are, watching as you tilt your head at nanami, laughing when he murmurs something. 

in typical nanami fashion, his lips only twitch a little bit, but it's enough to tell that he's amused by whatever conversation you're having. 

that he's got your full attention, and he gets to watch your eyes as they shift from one glance to another and--

shoko nods, looking back to satoru, who is trapped in his stare. chained down at the mere thought of you. "oh," she says, rolling her eyes. 

satoru doesn't look away, but grunts in the form of a question. 

"you're an idiot, you know that?" 

he frowns. "what?" 

her eyes are exasperated, and her smile is all-knowing. she has always alluded satoru, and his very short attention span. and he kind of hates her, at this moment, for distracting him. 

"seriously," she scoffs at his perturbed face, "after a whole year of living basically in the same room, i thought that the two of you would finally get over it." 

"who?" satoru asks, smiling confusedly. "get over what?" 

"you. get over yourself. honestly, only you and y/n would raise two kids together and pretend like there's no intimacy in it." 

"what?"' satoru repeats, dumbly. 

"and, by the way," shoko tells him, sipping on her drink. "jealousy is not cute." 

and then she walks away, like she's answered a single one of satoru's questions. 

and he frowns, thinking about it. 

because--no, there's no way she was talking about him--he shakes his head. where would she even have gotten that idea? there's--

no. 

and it’s—it’s not jealousy. he laughs off that thought.

satoru gojo is the strongest. he's the one everyone looks to. he doesn't have anything to be jealous about. 

and besides satoru knows that you don’t get enough time away from your discombobulated family. that your life revolves around them, and they around you. 

and the two of you have talked—at length—about the fact that you’re both young, and neither of you should live the lifestyle of some middle-aged parents, with no way to connect with the people in your age group. the people that would’ve been your family, in some alternate universe. 

satoru knows that you don’t carve out the things that you need without being asked to, that you get anxious about these types of occasions--he's watched it happen before, when you were forced into a corner at one exchange event the two of you shared, or when yaga took you all out to dinner, and you'd shrink yourself in your seat until someone noticed. 

he's seen you try to make yourself smaller at the convenience of others, and as he's grown (he almost winces at the thought) satoru has sworn to himself that he'd keep you from any situation where that might be necessary. 

so he shouldn’t--he doesn't--mind that you’re having a good time. he should be--is--happy with himself, for setting it up so you could, for planning it around you, and the kids. he should be preparing himself to gloat in your face about the fact that he thought of this, and he set it up all on his own. 

god. he doesn't have anything to be jealous about. 

but that doesn't change the fact that satoru can't really see beyond you, ten feet away from him, laughing at something that nanami said. 

and maybe it's not the fact that you're talking to him, or that you're smiling at him like satoru wants to be smiled at, he thinks, but more that you don't act that way with him. 

satoru is well aware of the grounds in your relationship, and he knows that you spend most of your days rolling your eyes at the obnoxious things that he says, trying to protect the children--and him--from the antics that you've all grown used to. 

he's not jealous, but maybe he's a little bit annoyed that he hasn't seen you this easy, and light since you were still in school. since you were still younger than him, and still someone he could look down upon. 

you cling to nanami like satoru clings to you, he realizes, sullenly. you smile and tease--if just the way your eyes crinkle means anything. 

you grin at nanami like you're trying to irritate him. like you're the reckless one between the two. 

and maybe it hurts satoru more just to know that you are the reckless one.

he'd lived with the two of you for three years. he'd experienced nanami's typical brooding--which, now, reminds him a lot of megumi, actually--and the way he'd think through everything. maybe a little bit too much, even. 

satoru was always there to watch you giggle alongside the austere man, pull him out of whatever thought process was darkening the mood, and remind him that none of it was all that serious. 

satoru knows--he knows--that you and him are similar. he knows that it's why he feels the way he does with you. that the way the two of you dance around your emotions, and say nothing that you truly mean is something to cherish, if also something to despise. 

he's not jealous, but maybe it hurts satoru because he knows that you've never been able to truly not care, with him. that he takes up all of the ignorance one household can get, even without meaning to.

or maybe it's just been a long time since he got the chance to watch you interact with anyone else. 

maybe he's just ridiculous, and he should go do something else before he thinks about this for too long. shoko is wrong, though, he thinks. he's definitely not jealous. 

he's satoru gojo. he doesn't have anything to be jealous about. 

but he's still watching when you shake your head at something nanami says, tapping him on the shoulder and excusing yourself while waving him on, still light and airy, eyes meeting satoru's with that same grin. 

it's probably worse to know that it doesn't quite belong to him. that he's not the sole benefactor of it all. 

"hey," you say, bumping into him on purpose when you come over, your hands wrapping around his forearm as you lean on him. "need help?" 

"nah, i've got it," he finally looks away. he doesn't want to watch this. 

but you're still grinning at him, trying to catch his eye--even with the sunglasses. "you're all alone over here," you coo, "i can help you clean up." 

satoru snorts. "i thought you weren't going to help with anything." 

"well, since i'm already here..." you drawl, beginning to pick up spare utensils, and napkins. all of the things he'd been too distracted to do. 

you're humming as you do it, completely content with everything. 

satoru tries not to grind his teeth at the fact that your mood is not because of him. 

"how's nanami?" he asks, unprecendented, after a moment. 

you shrug. "he's good. i guess the real world sucks too," you say it with a lilt, like there's an inside joke that satoru is missing. 

he shakes his head, trying to keep his words civil. "the real world?" 

"the corporate universe, and laws of reality, or whatever," you roll your eyes, and you sound exactly like him. "no curses or magic to liven things up." 

"no monsters, you mean." 

"or that," you smile at him, looking almost giddy. 

satoru hums. 

you put all of the trash you've collected on a serving dish, piling things up without a care in the world. and then you turn towards satoru, and he can feel your slight frown before he can see it. "you okay?" you ask him. 

satoru freezes. "what?" 

"is it getting to you? the brunch?" 

"what? no, i'm fine," he tries to look at you like you're ridiculous, but his face feels stiff, and wrong, and far too happy for you. 

"you look like your tongue is too big to fit in your mouth." 

he sticks his tongue out, almost on command. "does it look any different?" 

"hmm," you pretend to observe. "yeah. might want to see a doctor about it." 

"noted." 

"are you trying not to laugh at something? you can tell me if i have something on my face, you know." 

satoru's smile is a bit easier at that, but he shakes his head anyway. he kind of wants to run away to his room--something he's learned from raising two children. "no, i'm just thinking." 

you raise a brow. 

satoru scowls. "what? you didn't think it was possible?" 

"no, not really."  

he shakes his head. he tries to turn away, scoffing like it's a joke (it's not), but your hand reaches for his bicep before he can. 

"hey," you say to him. he turns back to you, and your smile, nose scrunched up as you lean in. "how are you?" 

"busy. i have to go make sure there's enough ice in that bucket." 

"i'll come with you," you say, even though you both know that he's lying. 

"no. i'm sure nanami has more he wants to talk with you about." 

"is that what this is about? nanami? are you mad at him, or something?" 

"why would i be mad at him?" 

"i don't know, satoru, your brain is a confusing thing," you tug on his hair just a little bit. "hey, c'mon. why're you upset?" 

"i'm not upset." 

satoru should be basking in your attention, but he can't quite bring himself to notice it. or that you spend every day with him--mostly without complaint--and never fail to laugh at something he says. 

no, his thoughts are not very organized, at the moment. 

"you've got your little angry pout on," you nudge his lips with a finger. "i think you've been spending too much time with megumi." 

he grabs your hand, trying not to squeeze. "i'm fine. go hang out. you're not supposed to be helping me." 

this time, you pout. "you don't want to spend time with me?" 

he groans, throwing his head back. "i'm trying to be nice," he tells you. "you know, like how you're always telling me to?" 

"ew," you say, giggling a little bit. "i don't like it." 

he rolls his eyes. 

"seriously, come hang out with me and the kids. we can beat them at charades, or something, again. you need a little pep in your step." 

"what are you, my mom?" he deadpans but feels his heart twitch a little bit because you're still holding onto him. 

"might as well be. take a break, satoru, i miss you." 

you say it so easily and nonchalantly that satoru wants to pick you up and lock you in a little box, just so you can never talk to anyone but him again.

he stares at you, blinking beneath his glasses, feeling like you're doing all of this just to mess with him. 

honestly, whiplash is a serious condition. 

you smile at him, fluttering your eyelashes unknowingly, pouting at him a little bit, even through the smile. 

and satoru's never been able to say no to you, so he lets you pull him with you, back to the kitchen, where you grab nanami too--to the dismay of satoru, of course. he tries not to glare. 

and satoru chooses to ignore the discerning look that nanami sends him, and the fact that his arm tightens around your waist as you drag the two men along. 

he's not jealous. god, it's just very loud in here. 

*

somewhere several minutes earlier, when the two of you were standing just a little bit too close to each other, both of you pouting, looking like two children fighting over a toy--you had a couple of spectators. 

shoko scoffs, shaking her head. "that's disgusting." 

you're on your tiptoes, head tilted as you purr something to satoru. they can't see his eyes from twenty feet away, but they can all tell that they're stuck on you. glued, never to be torn away. 

megumi looks at the woman, then follows her eyes to the two of you, blank-faced. 

tsumiki giggles. 

"we know," they both say, rolling their eyes. 

*

next part | series masterlist

[m0llygunn]

Hello! Can I request oneshot with Eddie and virgin reader?

Something like when they're talking casually and she confesses that she feels so insecure about being virgin at her age (22) when everyone she knows has boyfriends/girlfriends and had first sex a long time ago. But she hasn't even kissed anyone and she doesn't know how it works.

(She has also a big crush on Eddie but she's shy about it)

How do you think Eddie would react?

It's so personal for me but if you're not comfortable with this idea it's okay ☺️

Thank you for your time!

hi! sorry for how long it took! I didn't want to write something too too similar to Eddie's Notes, so it took me a minute to think something up, hope thats okay!

also this is my first request!! thank you! I hope you like it :)

it's not too explicit but 18+ only please!

wc: 2.4k+

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“How much do you wanna bet they’ll be fucking within the hour?” Eddie whispers, leaning in close enough for you to hear him.

“Huh?” you reply, catching Eddie’s gaze. He nods back to the couple you’ve both been sparring glances at ever since you sat down.

You and Eddie stopped at the diner to get late dinner after hanging out with the group at Steve’s house. He was just going to drive you home, but he insisted he was starving and you both had to stop for food. You’re not complaining, you’ve always had quite the soft spot for Eddie and more time with him is always welcomed.

You both sat at the back of the diner on the same side of the booth as Eddie insisted it was the best spot for people watching. Sitting in the other back corner of the restaurant was some girl you hardly recognized from high school and a guy who you assumed was her date.

To you, it looked innocent. They both sat on the same side of the booth, probably doing the same thing you and Eddie were doing. Their shoulders were just barely touching and they were making quick, shy glances at one another. To you, you thought that maybe it was a first date due to their nervousness, so for Eddie to think they’ll be fucking within the hour… you couldn’t help but look at him in pure confusion. 

“His hand’s been on her thigh the whole night and she’s been slowly inching it up, see,” he explains in a low voice, motioning down to under their table. You spare another glance and just as he said, their hands are just nearing the hem of her skirt. 

“I didn’t notice,” you say quietly, refocusing your attention on your food, picking at your fries.

To you, they looked innocent. You thought their nervousness was because it was a first date. What a stupid thing to think.

“Look, look,” Eddie says excitedly, leaning further into you, laying his arm across the back of the booth. You glance over as the guy's hand fully travels under the girl’s skirt. 

“Eddie, I can't watch that,” you say, turning away out of embarrassment for yourself and the couple.

“What’s wrong? Never fooled around in public before?” he teases, his arm behind you coming forward just enough to nudge your shoulder.

“No,” you say quietly, throwing down the fry you’ve been swirling around on your plate before crossing your arms over your chest. 

“What?” he laughs and you shrug. 

No, you haven’t fooled around in public. You haven’t fooled around, full stop. Not even a kiss. Not even a hand hold. Not in public nor in private. Nothing. 

“You’re telling me you haven’t gone on a date and the guy hasn’t gotten a little handsy with you?” Eddie teases further.

You’d have to go on dates for someone to get handsy with you. You shrug again, just faintly shaking your head. You turn your face away from Eddie only to be met with the sight of the guy's hand all the way up the girl's skirt— something you really don’t want to see. You redirect your gaze forward, having nowhere else to look at this point. 

“I don’t believe you,” he laughs, hand nudging your shoulder again. You shrug again, sighing heavily. 

“Eddie. I don’t go on dates,” you say, flatly. 

“Me neither really. I guess, it’s kind of an old school thing,” he says, taking a sip of his drink. He clearly doesn’t understand what you mean. You brave a glance at Eddie. You like him. You have for a while.

“Eddie, can I tell you something really embarrassing?”

He sets his drink down, and while you go back to avoiding his gaze, you can tell he’s making every attempt to meet yours. You look at him for a split second before looking down at the table once again.

“Yeah, of course,” he says quietly. You can feel his hand grazing your shoulder, fingers just barely brushing over your skin. As nervous and embarrassed as you are to say what you’re about to say, his light, gentle contact is sort of relaxing, soothing in a way. Eddie’s always been kind, you know he won’t be mean about it, that’s just not in his nature, but it’s still something you’re insecure about. 

“I don’t go on dates, or do anything like that,” you say, nodding your head over to the couple. His eyebrows raise before he relaxes into a light laugh, like he expected you to say something different maybe. 

“Okay… not everyone’s into public stuff, it’s fine,” he smiles. His hand settles completely on your shoulder and that gives you the courage to just blurt it all out. 

“I’m a virgin, Eddie,” you say, hushing your voice. 

“Oh?” he says, in a short sort of quiet gasp. If you thought he expected you to say something else earlier, you can tell that he really didn’t expect you to say that.

“Yeah,” you hum, hoping he’ll give you some other reaction other than his blank stare.

“Oh,” he says again, his eyes shifting down to your crossed arms before back up to meet your gaze. You cower under his look, regretting saying anything. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that. It’s so embarrassing.” You say, shifting in the seat, not sure if you want to get up and leave or just hope that the earth opens up and swallows you whole. Eddie’s hand on your shoulder grows more firm, keeping you still.

“No— no. I’m just... I didn’t know. Is it… like, on purpose?” he asks tentatively, keeping his tone soft.

“No,” you answer, shrinking into yourself as the burning from your cheeks turns into your whole body lighting aflame. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he says, leaning into you, his hand on your shoulder pulling you in closer to him at the same time. 

The couple draw both yours and Eddie’s attention as the girl giggles loudly. When you look over at them, they’re both quickly shuffling out of their booth. The guy wraps his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into a kiss before taking her hand and guiding her out of the restaurant. It makes your stomach sink because that’s exactly what you’ve never had and it’s mocking you right to your face. 

“It’s not okay, Eddie, it’s embarrassing. Like, that—” you say, motioning to the direction that the couple just left in. “That’s what normal people my age do. Everyone’s had relationships and I haven’t done anything,” you say hastily, feeling entirely too fed up with yourself for being in this situation. It’s hard to not be upset with yourself when people around you are constantly reminding you how behind you are, even without them knowing it. 

Eddie squeezes your shoulder lightly. “I think you forget who you’re talking to right now,” he laughs.

“Eddie, you’re not a virgin,” you state.

“No, but I was. For a long time. Nobody was exactly lining up to get with the satanic super senior freak,” he says, adding emphasis to the names he’s been called over the years. You know he’s just saying this stuff to make you feel better about yourself, and it makes you feel worse. He shouldn’t have to put himself down. Eddie’s the best and it’s not fair for him to do that. 

“Yeah, but you’re not a ‘satanic super senior freak’. You’re cool, you’re in a band, you’re attractive. So many people would be lucky to be with you. It's different, you’re hot and funny— and you’re not 22 years old and still a virgin,” you blurt out, squeezing your folded arms over your chest harder. You shift in your seat again, contemplating getting up, but Eddie’s hand on your shoulder pulls you in even closer to him until your shoulder meets the edge of his chest and your hip meets his.

“Hey. It’s okay. I’m not judging you, you’re fine,” he says, softly.

“But—”

“I’m serious. If that experience hasn’t happened yet, it’s no big deal.”

You deflate into yourself, feeling the embarrassment burn hot inside of you. Eddie shifts, facing you but you keep your head down, avoiding his gaze. His free hand landing on your thigh startles you, making you look up at him in surprise. You’re met with a soft smile, like he knew that would get your attention. 

“You know, you’re attractive too. Very pretty. Just because some idiot hasn’t made the moves on you yet, doesn’t mean you aren’t.”

“Don’t say stuff just to be nice,” you mumble, feeling your cheeks heat for an entirely different reason. 

“I’m serious. I wouldn’t lie to you. You’re smart, and funny, and I like being around you,” he says, leaning in even closer, close enough for you to feel his breath on your cheek.

“Eddie, I haven’t even kissed someone before,” you say, turning to him abruptly. You're nearly nose to nose with him, and it makes your heart beat too fast. You pull back a few inches, looking at Eddie but his gaze stays low on your face.

“Is it a bad time for me to say I’ve been dying to kiss you?” he asks, eyes still lingering low, and you suddenly realize it’s your lips he’s focusing on.

“What?” you say, your brows pinching in confusion. 

“I want to kiss you,” he repeats with clarity, eyes meeting yours. You shake your head, surely this is a joke. 

“Stop making fun of me,” you huff, uncrossing your arms. You put your hand over Eddie’s to pry it from your thigh. He let’s go, taking your hand in his instead, making you stop dead in your tracks.

“Why do you think I brought you here? Why do you think we’re sitting in the back of the diner?” he says, raising his brows. “And it’s not just because I wanted to spy on the couple who was practically fucking back here.”

“I don’t know.” 

“Because I’ve been dying to kiss you. It’s awfully hard to get you alone, you know?” he says. He smiles at you softly, squeezing your hand in his. Your stomach flutters. You’ve thought about this moment, wanted it so badly— yet something inside of you still holds you back. 

“I don’t know how,” you say, feeling flustered. He squeezes your hand, dipping his face to meet your gaze.

“It’s easy, just come closer,” he whispers. You do as he says and he hums lowly. His hand on your shoulder moves to the back of your head, keeping you moving into him at a steady pace and he inches forward, meeting you in the middle. 

You let your eyes flutter shut, and you feel his lips on yours, light as a feather. He presses into you more firmly, and when his lips start to move, you freeze up, not knowing what to do. His hand on the back of your head moves to your neck, caressing you softly— like an encouragement. He slows down and you take the leap, following his lead. You match his pace, moving your lips like he does, copying the movements, and he hums again— like a praise this time. 

“Easy, isn’t it?” he says, just barely moving away from your lips. 

“Yeah,” you agree breathily, feeling like your whole body is tingling. 

“You’re a natural,” he says. You feel his breath against your lips and you don’t know if you want to run away or lean in for more. He doesn’t give you the chance either way before he’s tugging you closer to his chest so your head rests on his shoulder. His hand guides you to look up at him.

“I like you for you. Not the experiences you have or haven’t had,” he says, meeting your gaze. His words make your stomach explode with butterflies but your head stops you from letting yourself believe his sentiment. 

“Don’t you think it’s embarrassing though?” you ask.

“Would you think it was embarrassing if it were the other way around? Would you like me less if I were a virgin?”

“No,” you reply honestly. You would never like Eddie less for something superficial like that. The way he looks at you so softly is a testament to how good he is, you wouldn’t like him any less even if he were a virgin. 

“Things happen at different times for people. I’m sure you’ve done all kinds of things I haven’t done before… like graduating on your first try,” he says with a smirk.

“Don’t put yourself down just to make me feel better,” you say, leaning further up towards him, squinting your eyes into a glare so he knows you’re serious. 

He laughs at you, nodding his head gently before continuing.“I’m just saying, sex isn’t the end all be all of who you are. Not to sound preachy, but it’s only embarrassing if you let it embarrass you— and it shouldn’t. At all. Ever,” he emphasizes, rubbing his hand against your side. His lips quirk up into a smirk—one you’re familiar with and know that it typically means he’s up to no good. “And if you ever want to not be a virgin, I’m right here,” he says, digging his fingers into your ribs, making you laugh. 

It was a joke— him being there if you ever wanted to not be a virgin, but then it was the truth. When Eddie drove you home, he helped you brush up on your kissing skills. Right before you went inside for the night, he asked you on a date. 

While it didn’t happen that night or even that week, it did happen eventually. And when it did, Eddie was slow with you. He was patient with you, and made sure you were comfortable the whole time. You’ve always heard the romanticized versions of people losing their virginity, and how it was so perfect, and this or that, but with Eddie, it really was. He was someone you cared for and trusted and that’s what made it perfect. 

He quelled all your negative thoughts. He made sure you knew that your sex life didn’t dictate who you were. What experiences you had or didn’t have doesn’t make you or break you.

He took you on a date, he kissed you, held your hand, held you. He took you on more dates, called you his, did all the things you dreamt about— the things you were worried you would never get. 

Everything you hadn’t done, you did with Eddie. For a long time you thought you were missing out. In some ways, maybe you were, but if you had to choose, you’d do it all over again exactly the same, as long as you’d get to do it all over again with Eddie. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

thank you again!

[kakashixhatakesxwhore]

Love Language Headcanons

What I imagine the love languages of Iruka, Kakashi, Itachi (w bonus Hashirama and Madara) to be. GN!Reader, until Madara.

Warnings: lil bit of sexism from Madara (nothing new), fluff, lmk if this sucks

Masterlist💿

Iruka

Words of Affirmation

While he's giddy around lunchtime when he sees the note you left in his box, Iruka much prefers to hear the words of love come from your lips

After a long day, sharing his knowledge and wrangling children, the only thing on Iruka's mind is the sweet, little nothings you would soon be whispering against his ear as you two lay in embrace

Some nights, Iruka would even be known to fall asleep before dinner, in your arms, lulled and comforted by your tone and your words

There's something in the constant reminders of your love for him that keeps him spry, his adventurous spirit engaged

With every syllable of 'forever', Iruka can feel his heart thrum in his chest

Likewise, he will be the first to compliment every outfit, any touch of makeup, or even just your sleep-coated face in the early mornings - he wants you to hear his voice every time you look into a mirror, praising you and adoring you

Nothing will ever stop Iruka from telling you exactly how he feels in a given moment, no audience or situation too embarrassing

In fact, he adores telling you how devoted he is to you with an audience - he wants everyone to know you are completely and utterly his, and he goes weak in the knees when you return his words

Kakashi

Physical Touch

When you're sitting with him, his hand is lightly gripping your thigh, reminding you and everyone else who you came with

He finds he cannot walk without touching you, his arm needs to be over your shoulders or your arm locked into his - even when moving through a crowd, Kakashi will hold onto a bit of your clothing as to not lose you

Every night is spent completely tangled together, a jumbled mess of legs and arms, in and out of the sheets, with you practically on top of him

Even while asleep, if you roll away, Kakashi will lock his arms around your waist, pulling you close for a warm cuddle

He's always kissing you while you're within the sanctity of your shared home, and when he's not, he's rubbing his nose against yours, putting his forehead against yours, or nuzzling against your cheek

Will come to the bathroom with you, if you let him, just to sit on the edge of the tub and shoot the breeze while you pee

Never stops getting tingly and bashful when you touch him, especially in public, so aware of the declaration of together-ness that your touch brought

Kakashi cannot stand when someone else touches you, even your close friends - he's got quite the jealous edge, and you know his hands will be all over where the other person touched you, soon, vying to erase the memory of another from your skin

Itachi

Quality Time

He hasn't got a lot of spare time on his hands, but he feels like he might go insane if he doesn't spend every available second with you

The kind memories warm Itachi in the cold nights, so he is especially keen on making a million with you

Comfortable silence is common, which relaxes Itachi immensely

He wants to be with you fully every time you are together - reading is fun, but he prefers to do anything that distracts from you at, quite literally, any other time

Knowing his hours were numbered, Itachi curses the universe for letting the time spent with you slip away like sand in an hourglass

I suppose time flies when you're having fun, and he has never had such an abundance of fun as when he's by your side

Any activity is a good activity when done together, even ones that Itachi didn't particularly enjoy like laundry or mending clothes - he found he could watch paint dry with you and still enjoy himself thoroughly

Lingers heavily when it's time to say goodbye; he can't do it if he doesn't need to it

Itachi plans three months in the future at the crack of dawn - he can't help but try to optimize the length of the periods he spends with you, somehow being able to schedule entire days to be together

Hashirama

Gift-Giving

Knows exactly what you want, in what colour, in what shape, in what size - to the exact dot.

Hashirama can think of no better way of proving his love for you than proving he knows your material desires inside and out

Some way, some how, he never runs out of ideas of things to get you, and absolutely no price is too steep for something he knows you'll love

His favourite part of showering you in presents is the face of shock and sheepishness, telling you he would go to the Edge of the World if it had the only tree with the fruit you craved

Enjoys giving you things that can be used by both of you, like books, rare spices, hair products, but loves giving you things to wear

Who else can procure a silk dress, with yards of intricate embroidery? Who else can find jewels so large and sparkly? Only Hashirama, thusly marking you as his to anyone with working eyes

But truly, your favourite gifts aren't the adornments, or spices, or a massive house - the gifts that truly enraptured your heart were the handmade cards and drawings Hashirama spent hours perfecting for your eyes only

Madara

Acts of Service

While Madara rarely humoured you with a walk through the sunflower fields, he would consistently ensure that you could go through life without the slightest hint of discomfort

He'll make you a tea in the morning, bringing it to you with a gentle shake of the shoulder to wake you up - it's how you start every day, with a small smile and a steamy drink, reminded that Madara would strive to wake you like this even if the world were actively burning

Going both ways, Madara deeply enjoys it when you prepare dinner for him, and will pitch in with the dishes to show you that he was truly thankful

Women's duties are women's duties, but Madara would do anything you asked of him without hesitation within your home (in public, he'd be much more conscious, however helping you as much as he could while still saving face)

Dotes on you entirely - if you told him you wanted the sky to turn fuchsia, he would be taking to the God of the Skies in an instant

Half the time, you don't even need to ask Madara to do something for you, it'll already be done, and done so perfectly you would be left with no question as to who did it

Every thank you, to Madara, is like you asking for something else, and he will tear the world to shreds until it is just to your liking

[wri0thesley]

SO glad someone else is in the "Just the tip" hole, so here I am like a little kid, cupping my hands for any spare thoughts (preferrably anyone besides Sampo), if you have any to share? 🤲🖤

loni i was going to write a post anyway but being able to reply to asks with my thoughts - proof that there is Demand (tm!) makes me feel SO much better about the brainrot!!! i have many thoughts abt sampo too so i am eagerly awaiting ur drabble, just the tip is really a concept of all time!

ft: gepard, welt, himeko, serval, jing yuan, luocha cw: reader is afab with no pronouns used. public sex (luocha), straps, sex toys (himeko and serval), a little size kink (jing yuan), a little soft dom (welt). not sfw, minors dni.

Gepard doesn't quite realise how big he is. He's not got all that much experience; he's never really thought about it, far too busy with all of the responsibilities that come hand in hand with being Captain of the Silvermane Guards. So when your eyes widen and your fingers can't quite meet when you wrap them around his length, he lets out a ragged breath and a moan and pushes his cock between your thighs. You have to breathlessly curl your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and whisper out his name. He's already on the edge just by being close to you. The silky softness of your thighs, the inviting shine of your lips and the way that arousal makes your eyes blow dark and wide - when you whisper softly into his ear; "I don't know if I can take it, Gepard . . . J-just the tip, alright? Go slow--", he worries that he's about to embarrass himself right there and then and come before he's even gotten inside of you.

You whine and whimper as he slowly pushes you open, your wetness smearing all over the ruddy head of his cock. Your fingers tighten in his hair even as a soft strangled noise falls from Gepard's own mouth and he struggles to not ram himself inside of you - you have no idea how good you feel. How hot and tight and wet and perfect the embrace of your walls clinging to him is, even on just the head of his cock.

But he did not get where he is by not having self-control. His muscular arms, corded with scars from practise battles and real battles alike, cage you in on the bed beneath him. He looks at you like someone who cannot believe how lucky he is.

"I'll wait here," he promises you, his voice lust-soaked and cracking with the effort. "As long as you need me to."

Welt sees how your lip trembles, how you take in a slow, steadying breath, and he cannot help his desire to take care of you a little. To coddle you and fuss over you, to make the most of the age and experience that he has and you do not. So he smiles at you, crow's feet crinkling the edges of his eyes behind his glasses, and traces the pout of your bottom lip with his thumb. His voice is patient and soft when he speaks to you.

"I'll go slowly," he tells you, as he gently slaps his cock against your wet folds where you sit on his desk before him, animation sketches and research papers pushed to one side in favour of the tempting treat that is your body. He has spent so much of his time working - nobody could blame him for taking a break and finding himself again in the silky tightness of someone younger and prettier than he himself is. "Just the tip first."

"Alright, Mr Yang," you breathe to him, your hands locking about his neck, urging him forward. You sigh as the head nudges your clit, as his precome mingles with your own slick arousal. You're a sensitive mess already - Welt is certainly not the kind of man who'd leave a partner unsatisfied, and his fingers and his tongue have already learnt every petal-soft fold of you, every spot that makes you shiver and whimper until you'd had to bite into his shoulder to stop your cries waking up every other crew member of the Express.

Slowly, slowly, carefully, he eases into you. Watches with rapt attention every movement of your body; the stretch of your cunt as it accepts him, until your hips are wriggling and squirming and you're tugging on his shoulders.

"Mr Yang," you're saying to him, your lip trembling, your shoulders racked with gasps. A whine leaks into your tone as he rests the head of his cock inside of you, enjoying the feel of it. Your sex pulses around the modicum of his length inside of you, fluttering, waiting to be fully claimed. "It's -- it's not enough!"

Welt laughs softly and presses a kiss on the top of your head that is almost paternal in its comfort - a reminder that he's old enough to be your father, your grandfather--

His voice is soft with just a hint of admonishment in it.

"You're really going to have to learn some patience."

Himeko has you wrapped around her little finger, but that doesn't mean that you don't eye the toy that she shows you with a little trepidation. She laughs at you when you do, pulling you into her, kissing you with the taste of coffee on her tongue as she talks you into her bed.

"If you're frightened of it," she's saying, even as your mouth is going dry as you watch her disrobe, "We'll go as slow as you need, darling. We'll start with just the tip."

You lose the ability to speak at the sight of her, auburn curls tumbling down her back and over the milky pale spill of her breasts and shoulders. Bathed in the starlight from her cabin window, she's unearthly, and your entire body sings out with desire for her. She smiles when she sees you looking.

"Always such a flatterer," she teases affectionately, as she wraps the toy carefully around the curve of her hips. It looks just as striking on her as everything else does. "Now, you just lie back. I've done this before. Let Himeko handle it, hmm?"

You're helpless to a command from the beautiful navigator, and you let yourself fall back on the pillows as she walks towards you with all of the elegance of somebody who knows exactly how lovely she is. She gives you a soft smile, her golden eyes gentle in the light, even as she gathers herself onto her knees and her fingers lightly dance over your bare skin. Electric pinpricks of desire radiate from every touch.

"Aren't you beautiful?" She muses to herself, as she wraps her hand around the toy and pumps it a few times - when it comes away, you see there's something thick and clear and viscous dripping from it. She laughs softly again when she sees you looking.

"You're already wet," she whispers to you, in a low, musical voice. "But if you're still nervous . . . well, there's nothing wrong with a little help, is there?"

Her fingers dance over your skin. She knows every part of you intimately by now; the spot on your stomach, the way you whimper when she pinches your nipples, the place on your hips that makes you breathe in a deep sigh and your own lashes flutter. Through her touches, she keeps murmuring soft platitudes to you - how pretty you look like this, for her. What a precious treasure you are. How she can't wait for you to come apart--

And by the time she is sliding the tip of the toy inside of you and you are fair dizzy with want, you can do nothing but whisper out her name. She leaves the tip of the toy inside of you, smiling down, as patient and beautiful and dazzling as ever.

"I told you," she murmurs, as her long fingers return to pluck and play with your nipples, and you get used to the new stretch of having something thicker than Himeko's fingers inside of you. "We'll go as slow as you need. Any new territory worth exploring is worth doing . . ." She leans down, her mouth full and soft and wet as it meets yours and you whine into it. "Thoroughly."

Serval is a tease. You'd known she was up to something the moment you'd stepped into the workshop and she'd flipped the sign to 'closed' with a feline grin on her face as she'd beckoned you over to her and told you she could really use your help with some new gadget she was tinkering with.

So now, as she has you bent over her workbench with something vibrating pressed in the valley between the folds of your sex, the tip pressed just so - buzzing and tingling - against the swollen pearl of your clit, it's all you can do to keep your fingers tight around the edge of the workbench and your knees locked so you don't collapse.

"Kitten," Serval is purring, her hips slowly rocking back and forth, the phallic toy strapped to her hips rubbing through the wet mess of your cunt. "Don't you like it? I made it thinking of you!"

Your words come out garbled, a mess of moans and sighs. Your own hips thrust back when she pulls away, trying to get her to keep the toy pressed against your clit for long enough for you to get off. Instead, she just laughs, nipping at your bare shoulder.

"You're getting desperate," she teases you, her voice deep and throaty and satisfied. "Beg me, kitten, and we'll see what I can do for you."

"Serval--" Your voice comes out a whine. "Please . . ."

Her clever fingers, calloused palms, slide down your bare skin, leaving electric zaps wherever they touch you. You shudder under her practised touch - you are an instrument, and Serval has already proved she is a master musician.

"Seeing as you asked so nicely," she says to you, and you sense the wicked cat-like grin on her mouth. "How about I give you just the tip?"

"Not enough--"

"You're getting greedy!" The buzzing toy slides a scant inch inside of you without the smallest hint of resistance; you're wet enough from the teasing already. You can feel your own arousal dripping down your thighs, and Serval sighs happily as she dips one of her fingers between your thighs to toy with your clit as the tip of the toy rests inside of you.

"You're lucky you're so cute," she whispers to you. Her finger slides back and forth over your clit, drawing delicate circles - she always knows how to use them. "Come for me on the tip, and I'll fuck you with the rest of it too."

Jing Yuan's patience has long been mistaken for occasional laziness; but you know better than most that there is nothing of the kind, when it comes to him. And there is certainly nothing of the kind when it comes to trysts like this.

Oh, you and he have gotten used to rushing moments when you can, in between him being needed for meetings and work - but now? In the evening, loose ends tied up, with nothing but one another to spend the night on?

This is a tryst that will last.

Jing Yuan is not lazy - he merely likes to take his time. For a man whose being is tied up in his past warfare, he knows how to handle delicate things like you - but that doesn't mean he's going to rush it. Not when you look so pretty laid out like this for him, clothes rumpled and discarded beneath you, looking up at him with your eyes all soft and wanting and your mouth aching to be kissed.

He hums beneath his breath as he lets his mouth learn the shape of yours; pushes you gently back when you try and kiss deeply into him, to make him hurry up. His cock nudges against your inner thigh and he sighs a slow, indolent sigh of pleasure that makes your heart beat double time in your chest.

"We have all of the time in the world, little bird," he tells you, with an insouciant smile on his face. Your face scrunches, an adorable expression of impatience taking over your features, and he smiles down at you like someone looking at the finest treasure in the world.

"Impatient," he chides you, but there's nothing but warmth in his tone when it comes to you. His hands find your thighs, digging into the soft skin as he parts them. Warm eyes like pools of molten gold find your core, and he sighs as he looks at you. You squirm under his gaze, and as he softly leans down and lets some of his own saliva drip onto your cunt, you whimper at the feel. "This is impatient, too," He says to you, and laughs. "Drooling all over the place. Mm. Is that how much it wants me?"

"I want you," you respond to him, mouth petulant. Jing Yuan shakes his head fondly at you but readjusts himself, hand around his cock to guide it to your sex. He taps the thick head softly against your clit until you squirm, pouting. "Jing Yuan--"

"Ah, I know, I know," he looks down at where the two of you are not yet joined. "I'm always reminded how . . . small you are, when I look down at you like this."

"It will fit," you insist to him, and he raises one eyebrow.

"Oh, I know it will," he tells you, still smiling at you. "But it's a tight one, isn't it?"

"Jing Yuan, you're stalling--!"

He laughs again.

"Ha. My apologies, little bird." Slowly, he guides his cock to your opening - resting it against there, just for a moment. Exactly as he said, he seems so much bigger than you - his tip thick and blunt and rounded, your entrance small even as your hole pulses and oozes slick in preparation for him. "I simply like looking at you."

"There's something you'd like more than just looking," you encourage him, and he shakes his head so that his mane of hair falls over his shoulders.

"You're incorrigible," he tells you - and then he is pushing forth into you, and your mind goes white of anything but the feel of Jing Yuan inside of you, his cock, your cunt, where they meld together and you become one--

Wait.

Why has he stopped?

"Jing Yuan--!"

He swallows your cry of his name with a kiss that is anything but lazy, tongue exploring your mouth, teeth tugging at your bottom lip until you're dizzy with it all. He tastes, just a little, like sweets.

He pulls back just enough to look at you half-lidded, the tip of his cock just stretching you out.

"I'm merely taking my time," he tells you. "Whilst I have it."

Luocha is mean, you think, even as his words remain unfailingly genteel. Even as his face remains a polite mask, he leaves his cock not-quite inside of you as you tremble against the wall he has you bodily pressed up against.

"Please," you breathe out to him, teary-eyed, lip trembling. "Y-you can't just leave it there--"

He cocks one eyebrow, his face unfairly pretty - unfairly unruffled, even with the tip of his cock buried in you. He's unfailingly still - almost as if the hot tightness of your cunt pulsing around him has no effect on him whatsoever. One long, elegant hand curves around your cheek as a small smile pulls at the corner of his lips.

He's big. You can't help but squirm against the concrete, your cunt wrapped around only the head of his cock but feeling like you've taken far, far more.

"We're in public," he says to you, voice just a little condescending. "If I were to go about this more . . . vigorously, surely you wouldn't want the attention of every person in the vicinity on you?"

Your own need feels like a thrum inside of you. It's hard to think, as Luocha moves his hips the barest fraction and you find yourself whining aloud. Firmly, he moves the hand on your cheek so that it's pressed over your mouth, muffling your noises.

"You can't take more than this," he tells you, voice calm and patient. "Not here. Not now."

You whimper into his gloved palm, tears beading in your eyes like little diamonds. Even that doesn't seem to move him, though he tips his head to one side, vaguely considering. He moves his hand just enough for you to take a breath, and whisper beseechingly;

"I-if not here . . . will you do it somewhere else?"

He laughs only one soft, musical little noise. He leans in close, his breath cool against your neck.

"Mm . . . but when you ask like that--"

You cry out as he pushes another inch of himself into you, eyes widening as the noise breaks the calm, cool air. Luocha pauses.

"Oh dear," he says. "I suppose we'll have to both come quickly then, hmm?"

[anantaru]

ARE YOU DEAF, OR JUST STUPID?

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — visiting a club at night wasn't something scaramouche would normally agree on, but when someone asks if you're single all of a sudden, the night appeared to become all the more eventful.

— ꒰ word count ꒱ — 800 words

— ꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff & crack, he's a jealous man with a dream, gn! reader

the hefty, immersive atmosphere encompassing your body was erratic, shining and full of lucent light.

you can perceive the differences in scents colliding with each other in the humid air of the underground club you were currently visiting as your boyfriend scaramouche was anything else but delighted to be here.

at least you're with him, but he simply doesn't get the appeal of being ringed in between infuriating, boring, pesky little humans having fun.

indeed, he has been playing the grumpy card for the majority of the time, fairly speaking, 'grumpy' was a comical understatement.

most of all, he cannot even convince himself to go out, don't even mention manipulating himself into thinking he likes it. because what's there to like? the noisy crowd or the blaring music blasting into his poor ears with people wildly shaking their bodies to the pesky tune, including you— who thankfully was only having eyes for him, also gleefully dancing and swaying your body as your boyfriend only watched;

stone-cold features not moving a muscle, unbothered and ready to go home again.

but then, the atmosphere changes when you feel someone tap on your shoulder, "sorry if this is weird." you flinch immediately by surprise, noticing the man behind you as you pull your head aside to face him.

"but are you single pretty?"

ugh, double ugh.

yet if you were being quite honest with yourself now, you're already laughing and were feeling just a little bad for the random guy asking you such a question not knowing what storm he had just conjured— because he does not even see that scaramouche was also standing next to you, mouth tight and swallowing, clearly not pleased by that insignificant insect, as he called him, bothering his partner while having fun.

"what?" scaramouche doesn't waste a single breath and spits out immediately, right away cutting you off the conversation entirely and inserting himself into the middle of you and the stranger so he couldn't bother you anymore, even if he tried. "what did you say?"

"w-wait, who are you?" the stranger forces a smile on his tensed face, strikingly irritated.

"are you deaf?" well, again, to make things clear, you should maybe pray to the archons now, clearly not for your boyfriend but for the odd man there. if it wasn't this hilarious. but you silently tug on scaramouche's arm to signal him that it was in fact, okay, and you could simply handle this alone, but you would also lie to yourself if you'd say that it wasn't cute, quite charming too, of him to be this animated, let alone protective right now.

scaramouche feels his throat tighten but doesn't let any anger run down, it's pointless and he would only make people notice him even more. "i don't want any troubles." the man silences down, feeling a warm, embarrassing hotness on his neck and his shoulders shrug inwards, because how possibly couldn't he react that way?

presently, he was being watched up and down, up and down, closely, with those indigo eyes boring sharp, burning daggers into his flesh and bones. "then you better leave."

"because there's no one single here, leave." scaramouche takes a step forward, "do you i have to spell it out for you or are you just that stupid?"

you could've sworn you heard a little 'no' leaving past the guys lips, yet the irksome stranger ultimately decided to take a haste leave instead, thankfully, but not before awkwardly glancing towards you and back to scaramouche, grinning through his tensed mouth, as if not knowing how to possibly tackle a situation like that, ever.

"you didn't have to do this, you know." you sneakily whisper into scaramouche's ear, "but then." and you begin to ponder dramatically in front of him, wrapping your arms around his body as you perceived his muscles lose on tension, "i wouldn't have been able to see this cute side of you."

what followed next was quite a sight to behold— that sicken, repulsed look on scaramouche face was award worthy, the best one in all of teyvat, but you loved that about him and place a soft, pleasing kiss on his parted lips before he was able to say anything back.

"i'm not cute." yet his response brushes over your lips regardless, his warm breath coating your own while he leaned into your warmth, gracefully accepting your candied kisses that were his treasured favorites.

"lets leave this place before i track that sucker down."

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[wayvchip]

cute dates with boyfriend!wayv

kun invites you over to his apartment to cook dinner and have a relaxing wine night. except maybe it wasn't that relaxing since you both turn it into a tipsy masterchef cooking competition. although you are quite intimidated by his cooking skills, you don't let that stop you from trying your best (which wasn't very good). kun, being the nicest guy ever, lets you win. the winner chooses the loser's punishment. you make him wear an embarrassing apron that says "kiss the cook but don't touch the buns" kun complies and prays the pictures you took of him on your phone never end up in yangyang's hands, or else he would never hear the end of it.

ten loves volunteering at the animal shelter, especially a shelter with lots of cats who need extra love and attention. you and ten spend the whole day playing with the cats, feeding them, cleaning out their cages, and brushing their fur. he almost wants to adopt yet another cat or two or three, but you gently remind him this isn't in real life neko atsume so he cannot collect all the cats in the world (unfortunately). ten's eyes soften when he sees you cuddling a senior kitty and he can't help but think to himself he wants to raise many cats with you in the future.

winwin would take you to the beach on a sunny day to enjoy the light breeze and salty air until the sun sets. you notice how he doesn't even try to hide the fact that he is checking you out. winwin compliments you endlessly and gives you one of his jackets to cover up because he hates the thought of other people staring at you. throughout the day, you help each other reapply sunscreen, and you giggle whenever he struggles to squeeze the tube that barely has any sunscreen left, because it sounds exactly like someone after they eat taco bell. during moments he thinks you aren't looking, winwin manages to find a pretty pearly white seashell among the billions of grains of sand and gives it to you.

xiaojun would invite you over to his place and you guys spend the whole time building legos and geeking out over the newest flower and plant lego sets. he starts sweating when your hand accidentally touches his hand while reaching for the same lego piece, even though you guys are literally dating. silly ahh boy. after you both finish building the set in one sitting, xiaojun makes you one of his famous oreo mug cakes, and he makes sure to lightly blow on the spoonful of batter to cool it down before feeding it to you and watching you eat it (he is so whipped for you)

hendery would take you to a hong kong style cafe. it's cozy and cute, and has lots of history behind how the shop came to be what it is today. you have trouble deciding what to order since you are unfamiliar with cantonese food but hendery excitedly explains each dish in detail just for you. once you decide what to get, hendery orders for you in cantonese, which makes you fall in love with him all over again. his eyes light up when you show interest in learning a few canto phrases and he feels his heart melt a little when you repeat after his words and ask if your pronounciation was okay.

yangyang loves going to the arcade section in the amusement park. the bright, colorful lights, silly circus music, and sound effects from the machines makes him feel like he's reliving his childhood again. yangyang tries to show off his claw machine skills because he wants to impress you. he literally tries so hard and finally wins a plushie for you after his like eleventh attempt. while yangyang is rambling on about how the "claw machine was rigged" and how "it wasn't a skill issue" on his part, you give him a quick kiss on the cheek, which makes him shut up immediately and start blushing furiously.

[merumis]

you gave kuroo a notebook last may—he hasn't quite had the courage to open it yet.

it's almost august now; it's that sticky kind of heat outside, the one that clings to both his skin and the inside of his lungs, so he's stuck in his childhood room. there's a rickety fan that keeps blowing half-cooled air into his face and downstairs, he can hear his father talking to his grandparents. something about dad's hardware store, something about a new employee, something about grandma wanting to make grandpa's favorite for dinner tonight.

the fan keeps lifting the cover of the notebook up. it's sitting on kuroo's desk. to his right, between all the remnants of last semester's college apartment that he couldn't leave there this summer: an air purifier his mom sent him (it was a peace offering, he thinks, after a particularly bad phone call. he doesn't think he forgave her), a box of his dishes, filled with cracks from his shitty dishwasher, and a bread basket you thrifted him. just to name a few.

and still, between the clutter, the breeze from the fan lifts only the cover—just enough for it to catch his eye. he reaches over to grab it, playing with the cover, bending the spine and flicking through the pages. it's an old notebook, well-worn and imprinted by your fingertips. the leather bends and gives where you would've held it, or where it would've jumbled around in your bag—molded by textbooks and pencil cases and your laptop.

he supposes he'll see you again next month, so now is as good a time as any to open this. you've been awfully incurious regarding this whole thing—sending him texts about your and his internships more than anything else. he's been partially grateful.

it's not that he doesn't want to read it. he doesn’t know quite how else to say it. he’s watched you scribble in this thing over the course of the year. it’s almost always late at night, in his bed or yours, lit only by his half-broken lamp or yours, gifted by a professor who you get lunch with every other week.

it was never that he didn’t want to read it—he means it, really. he’d always try to sneak glances while you were writing in it, and you’d tsk and laugh at him while pulling the papers up to your chest. in a weird way, it felt wrong to read it after you’d given it to him—like he hadn’t earned it, or like he’d be looking at something all too personal that hadn’t been there during all those failed attempts.

the fan lifts up the cover again, and this time, he sneaks his index finger under it, flipping to the first page.

i don’t normally fill the first pages of notebooks, it reads, scrawled out in your too-neat handwriting that he’s always made fun of. but it’s a good thing, you continue, because this way i get to fill this page with this. you finally get your way, tetsurou. you can read the notebook. i’m so—underlined three times, drawn a little darker, he can feel the sarcasm seeping through the pencil led—proud of you.

and then at the bottom, one more bit.

and by the way, do NOT tell me when you read this. don’t even mention it to me at all. this is embarrassing enough as is.

he lets out that stupid breath of laughter through his nose. those uninterested texts suddenly make a little more sense. he turns the next page.

i’ve met someone infuriating, it reads. crooked smiles, tequila-drenched breath, eyes made just to match. he leans in close when he speaks, laughter bubbling between words and fanning his warm breath across my ear and neck.

and then there’s that pull. i couldn’t put a name to it if i tried. that sweet tingling across my skin whenever he gets close enough; it feels like someone’s placed magnets beneath the surface of my flesh, and he’s holding their pair.

i knew we were going to kiss before he ever got that close—and i think he did too. he was too warm, too enticing, too, well, magnetic for anything else. and i love watching his brows furrow at the sound of my voice—indifferent, maybe a little cold. a comment about his big nose in return for one about my pretty eyes.

and all at once, kuroo knows this moment. the fan acts as a poor imitation of the cool october breeze—but it feels similar, all the same. it wasn’t quite halloween but at every party, you could see hints of it popping up in the corners. window decals of a witch and a ghost hanging in someone’s room, pumpkin carving kits tucked against the wall because no one had planned for a place to store them.

it was hardly the first time he’d talked to you—much less the first time he’d seen you—but you are right. he did know he was going to kiss you that night.

the fan catches one of his old posters behind him—making the thick paper scrape against his wall. the noise makes him turn. it’s an old periodic table (groan) and now it’s starting to get a little tattered at the edges. the fan catches again, this time on the notebook, and flips to another page.

kuroo allows it—call it fate or languor—and flattens out the notebook onto this new page.

i don’t know if you know this, it starts, but you fell asleep last night. shocking, i know, but it was before me, in my bed. you were sprawled out on my sheets—taking every inch of space you could in my mediocre full-size.

two weeks ago you told me you loved me. i didn’t know what to say. i laughed and kissed you and maybe said thank you. you took it like a champ while i dipped tofu into panko crumbs.

but tonight, i whispered it to you. once, twice, a third time—my lips brushing against the curve of your ear. i stopped every time you tossed or turned—i love, i would begin, and then hold my breath until your body stilled against mine. you, i breathed out. warm and all mine for tonight.

and kuroo has always known that you’re a writer—a good one, at that, from all those nights reading over your latest essay or poem for class, but this is different.

you like to write break-up poems for class—all about him, all fictionalized (he hopes) and all there to get a bit of a rise out of him, he knows. you love to write about the grand, the grotesque, things that he couldn’t put words to describe and you always did.

you had never written about him like this. or not to his face, anyway, and yet here it was—laid out in front of him, your handwriting looping around the college-ruled lines.

he flicks through a few more pages, fanning them out underneath the slow glide of his thumb—the fan swirling them in front of him faster than he wants, so he has to do it once, twice, and then again—a third. they’re not all about him, some are about her roommate, others about an essay or a concept that kuroo couldn’t put a name to. but most center him—in one view or another.

his grandmother clatters a few pans downstairs, a sharp clanging of metal hitting just beneath his floors. he can hear his dad call to her, his grandfather watching the tv 4 clicks too loud.

but here, with his rickety fan and tattered posters and his claustrophobic childhood scattered around him, he also has you. his phone buzzes next to him.

i think my job hates me btw, you send, and then another. how was your day off?

good, he replies, read a little.

anything good?

and because kuroo is so compliant to your word—perhaps maliciously so—he replies.

eh. not really. he smiles to only himself. maybe i’ll tell you about it later.