#me reading normal feedback from a teacher

[tiredf-o-u-r]

Teeheehee and then what else twirls hair

[gyuuberryy]

extra credit!

pairing: tutor!jungwon x downbad!reader

synopsis: getting tutored by the smartest guy in school should’ve helped your grades—not tanked your dignity. jungwon thinks you’re flirting to distract him from actual studying, and the more you try to act normal, the more he seems to think you’re in love with him. which, okay, maybe you are. but that’s not the point. unfortunately, there’s no syllabus for surviving weekly sessions with your crush when every word you say sounds like a love confession.

genre: highschool au, crack, slowburn, fluff, slight angst

warnings: reader is embarrassingly down bad, some kissing

note: this is like my second tutor!jungwon fic🙏🏻 why don't tutors like this exist irl. anyway enjoy reading!!

word count: 8.2k

if you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3

2k event | previous | next

you didn’t ask to be tutored by jungwon. 

in fact, you were actively hoping the school would forget about your tragic math grades entirely—like, maybe the universe would take pity on you and spontaneously erase the concept of vectors from existence. but when your teacher announced you’d be getting help from the yang jungwon, top student in your year, you knew you were doomed.

walking to the library now, your stomach twisted in a way that had nothing to do with the questionable cafeteria lunch. jungwon was everything you weren’t—composed where you were a mess, effortlessly intelligent where your brain short-circuited at basic equations, terrifyingly observant when you could barely remember your own schedule. and, because the universe hated you, he was also stupidly attractive.

you’d noticed it the first time you saw him in your class, head tilted as he scribbled something in a notebook, his brow furrowed in concentration. his uniform always looked annoyingly perfect, like he’d stepped out of some academic themed photoshoot, while yours was perpetually wrinkled and half tucked. and his voice—god, his voice was unfairly soft, which made your stupid heart stutter when he answered questions in class.

of course, you’d never admit any of this out loud. you weren’t even sure when the crush had started—maybe when he’d stayed after school to help a lost freshman find their classroom, or when he’d laughed at some dumb joke in the cafeteria and his nose scrunched up in a way that made your chest ache. it didn’t matter. what mattered was that now, you were about to sit across from him for an hour every week, trying not to combust while he explained polynomials or whatever.

you paused outside the library doors, taking a deep breath. act normal. don’t say anything weird. don’t stare at his hands. don’t—

the door swung open before you could finish your mental pep talk, and there he was, blinking at you like he’d been waiting. 

“you’re late,” jungwon said, but there was no real annoyance in his tone, just that quiet amusement that always made you feel like he knew something you didn’t.

“traffic,” you deadpanned, then immediately wanted to kick yourself. traffic? you walked here.

jungwon’s lips twitched. “right.” 

he stepped aside to let you in and as you brushed past him, you caught the faint scent of his laundry detergent—something clean and warm, like sunlight. great. now you were sniffing him.

this was going to be a disaster.

you had promised yourself you’d act normal. no weird jokes, no nervous rambling, definitely no accidental slips of the tongue that would make him think you were even more of a mess than he already did. you’d rehearsed it in your head all morning.

but then, barely ten minutes into your first study session, your traitorous mouth betrayed you in the worst possible way.

“so if you move the x over here—” jungwon was saying, his voice calm and measured like he wasn’t currently explaining something that might as well have been ancient Sumerian to you. you were nodding along like you understood, gripping your pen so tight your knuckles were turning white, when he paused and glanced at you. “got it?”

“yes, sir—i mean, jungwon,” you blurted out, the words tumbling out before your brain could catch up.

the second it left your mouth, your entire body went rigid. no. no no no. you didn’t just say that. you didn’t.

jungwon didn’t laugh. he didn’t even smirk. he just—stopped. his pencil hovered mid air, and for one horrifying second, you swore his eyes flickered with something unreadable before he slowly, painfully deliberately, raised an eyebrow at you. like he was mentally adding this to a list titled reasons my tutoring student might be insane.

then, without a single comment, he went right back to explaining the equation, as if you hadn’t just shattered your own dignity into a million tiny pieces.

you wanted to die. you wanted to melt into a puddle and seep through the library floorboards. you wanted to invent time travel just so you could go back and slap your past self before those cursed words could escape. but instead, you just sat there, your face burning so hot you were surprised your skin wasn’t peeling off, and pretended to focus on the worksheet like your life depended on it.

which—ha. focus? impossible. the numbers on the page blurred together, your brain too busy short circuiting over the fact that yang jungwon was sitting right there, close enough that you could see the way his dark lashes fanned against his cheeks when he looked down at the paper, the faint crease between his brows as he worked through the problem. his fingers were long and slender, his nails neatly trimmed—of course even his hands were perfect—and every time he tapped his pencil against the page, you swore your heartbeat synced up with the rhythm.

then it got worse.

he leaned over to point out a mistake in your work, his arm brushing against yours, and—oh.

his sleeve was soft against your skin, the warmth of him seeping into you like sunlight, and suddenly, breathing felt like an advanced skill you hadn’t mastered yet. your lungs forgot how to function. your throat went dry. you could smell his shampoo, something clean and subtly sweet, and it was distracting in a way that should’ve been illegal.

you fake coughed into your elbow, desperate to disguise the way your breath hitched, but the damage was already done. your brain had officially abandoned all rational thought, leaving behind only static and the frantic, looping mantra of don’t freak out don’t freak out don’t freak out—

but you were freaking out. and your hands, apparently operating on pure panic autopilot, decided the best course of action was to start doodling in the margins of your notebook like a middle schooler with a crush.

you weren’t even paying attention to what you were drawing—just desperate to do something with the nervous energy buzzing under your skin. your pencil moved on its own, sketching lazy shapes, swirls, half formed equations you’d already given up on understanding. and then, because you seemed to be your biggest enemy, your subconscious took over.

you didn’t even realise what you’d written until jungwon’s voice cut through the silence, slow and deliberate.

“god of math… and my heart?”

your entire body locked up.

your pen slipped from your fingers, clattering against the table before rolling off the edge, but you didn’t even move to catch it. you just stared, numb with horror at the evidence of your own humiliation: right there, in messy, ink-smudged letters, surrounded by half hearted calculations and a poorly drawn heart, were the words god of math… and my heart?

your eyes snapped up to meet his.

jungwon was staring at you. not just glancing, not just mildly curious—full-on staring, his dark eyes flickering between your face and the notebook like he was trying to decide if you were joking or if he needed to call for a mental health intervention. his lips were slightly parted, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and way too much amusement for your sanity to handle.

your soul left your body.

“that’s—it’s not—” you stammered, your voice coming out strangled as you slapped your hand over the doodle like that could somehow erase it from existence. but it was too late. he’d seen it. he’d read it. there was no coming back from this.

jungwon tilted his head, the corner of his mouth twitching. “so,” he said, dragging the word out like he was savouring your suffering, “are we here to study math… or feelings?”

your face was on fire. you were pretty sure you’d stopped breathing altogether. somewhere in the distance, you could hear the faint sound of a librarian shushing a group of freshmen, the rustle of pages turning, the hum of the overhead lights—normal, everyday sounds that felt completely detached from the reality where you had just accidentally confessed to jungwon via notebook doodle.

“i—that’s not—oh my god,” you choked out, burying your face in your hands. “can we pretend i never picked up a pen?”

jungwon let out a quiet huff of laughter—actual laughter, warm and low and devastating to your already fragile composure, before sliding the worksheet back toward you. 

“focus,” he said, his voice light but firm, like he wasn’t the entire reason you couldn’t. “we’re on question three.”

you swallowed hard, staring down at the paper like it held the answers to all your problems. but the numbers might as well have been dancing. your heart was pounding so loud you were surprised he couldn’t hear it.

this was going to be the longest tutoring session of your life.

the next session started with an immediate, glaring difference that made your stomach drop the moment you slid into your usual seat: jungwon had positioned himself a full twelve inches further away than normal. not enough to be obvious to anyone else, but enough that you noticed immediately—enough that the space between you suddenly felt calculated, deliberate, like he'd used a ruler to measure out the exact distance required to maintain proper tutor-student boundaries while still being able to pass you worksheets. his posture was still picture perfect, his notes still organised with military precision, but there was a new tension in his shoulders that hadn't been there before, a carefulness to his movements that made your palms sweat.

he was polite—painfully so—with that same quiet professionalism he always had, but his voice carried a new kind of measured calmness. you couldn't even blame him. not after last time. not after the doodle. not after you'd basically turned into a malfunctioning robot every time he so much as breathed in your direction.

you tried desperately not to stare at the way the library's fluorescent lights caught the subtle highlights in his hair, or how his long fingers tapped rhythmically against the edge of the textbook—one two three, pause, one two three—a nervous habit you'd never noticed before. you tried to focus on the equations swimming across your notebook page, but the numbers might as well have been written in hieroglyphics for all the sense they made to your currently short-circuiting brain. 

was he uncomfortable? had you made him uncomfortable? the thought made your stomach twist violently. you hadn't meant for any of this to happen. that stupid doodle had just... appeared, like some kind of subconscious betrayal, and now you were paying the price for it in the form of this excruciatingly careful distance jungwon was maintaining between you.

then, just as he was midway through explaining some godforsaken exponent rule—his voice smooth and steady like he wasn't currently dismantling your entire nervous system—he paused. his pencil hovered over the page, and for one heart stopping moment you thought he'd caught another glaring error in your work, but then he glanced up at you through his unfairly long lashes, his dark eyes utterly unreadable and dropped the verbal equivalent of a grenade into your lap with terrifying casualness: "you don't have to flirt to get out of studying, you know."

the world stopped spinning.

your brain short circuited so violently you could practically hear the fizzle of your neurons giving up. your mouth fell open, then snapped shut, then opened again like a malfunctioning marionette as every single thought in your head evaporated at once. 

"i wasn't flirting!" you blurted out, far too loudly, earning an immediate and aggressive "shhhh!" from the librarian three tables over. 

your face burned so hot you were surprised your skin didn't melt off, but the words kept tumbling out in a desperate, rambling avalanche. 

"i just—you're very well-spoken! i mean—not that i notice that! i don't think about your voice at all, ever. like, not even a little. it's just a normal voice. a totally unremarkable, not-smooth, not-nice-to-listen-to voice—"

the moment the words left your mouth felt like deja vu,because you wanted to die again. wanted to spontaneously combust. wanted the library floor to open up and swallow you whole because oh god, you'd just insulted his voice while trying to compliment it, and now he was definitely going to think you were either insane or the world's worst liar—which, honestly, you might be at this point.

jungwon's expression didn't so much as flicker. he just looked at you with that same infuriatingly neutral face, though you could have sworn you saw the faintest glimmer of something in his eyes—amusement? disbelief? sheer existential despair at having to tutor someone this socially incompetent?—before he turned back to the textbook with the air of a man who had seen too much. 

"right," he said, his voice drier than the sahara, "let's just... focus on the math."

you swallowed hard enough to hurt your throat, nodding like one of those bobblehead dolls as you attempted to glue your attention to the worksheet in front of you. but the numbers blurred together, your thoughts a chaotic whirlwind of oh god oh god oh god and why can't i be normal for five seconds and please let me disappear right now. the air between you felt thick enough to choke on, every rustle of paper, every shift in posture amplified to deafening levels in the silence.

what followed was nothing short of a masterclass in humiliation. every attempt you made to contribute to the lesson ended in disaster.

"so if x equals... uh... the thing that's... not y?" you stammered at one point, watching in real-time as jungwon's eyebrows crept higher up his forehead like they were trying to escape your nonsense. 

when you reached for your pen, your butterfingers decided to send it clattering to the floor with a noise that echoed through the entire library. you lunged after it like your life depended on it, only to smash your knee against the table leg hard enough to make the textbooks jump. 

"i'm fine!" you hissed through gritted teeth, rubbing your throbbing knee as jungwon stared at you with the expression of a man seriously reconsidering his volunteer work at as a tutor.

by the time the session limped to its merciful conclusion, you were a shell of a human being. your notes looked like they'd been taken by someone having a stroke, half legible equations interspersed with frantic scribbles and the occasional subconscious doodle that you immediately scratched out before it could betray you again. your dignity had long since packed its bags and left the country. and jungwon? he just gathered his things with that same infuriating calm, slinging his bag over his shoulder with effortless grace before pausing to look at you one last time.

"next time," he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear it, "just tell me if you don't understand something." a beat. "it's less... dramatic."

then he was gone, leaving you sitting there with your face burning, your heart pounding, and the sinking realisation that you now had approximately six days, fourteen hours, and twenty three minutes to figure out how to face him again without spontaneously combusting from sheer embarrassment.

the moment your head hit the pillow that night, your brain decided to stage the world’s most brutal highlight reel of every single embarrassing interaction you’d ever had with jungwon. you squeezed your eyes shut, but the memories played in vivid technicolour behind your eyelids, each one more excruciating than the last.

first, the meme incident. you’d meant to send him a screenshot of the math problem you were struggling with, but instead, you had somehow selected and sent an entirely different screenshot from your camera roll: a stupid meme that just said "i want you" in bold, gliterry letters. 

you’d realised your mistake immediately, frantically typing "NO I MEANT TO SEND THE MATH PROBLEM I NEED HELP" in all caps, but the damage was done. 

jungwon had left you on read for a full twenty minutes before responding with nothing but a dry "question 3.7 is on page 46." no mention of the meme. no acknowledgement of your mortified follow up messages. just math. always math.

then there was the handwriting debacle. last week, when he’d written out a particularly complex formula in his annoyingly perfect script with each number and symbol aligned with geometric precision, you’d blurted out, "your handwriting is so nice, i bet your love letters are pretty." 

the second the words left your mouth, your soul had left your body. jungwon had just blinked at you, his expression completely blank, before slowly sliding the notebook back toward you and saying, "focus. we’re on question five."

and now today. today. the way he’d looked at you when you’d tripped over your own words, your own pen, your own damn feet—like he was watching some tragic comedy where you were the unwilling star. the worst part was he never called you out on any of it. never laughed, never teased, never even acknowledged the sheer magnitude of your awkwardness. he just stared at you with that unreadable expression, those dark eyes giving nothing away, and continued tutoring like you weren’t slowly combusting in your seat.

you groaned into your pillow, rolling onto your stomach and pressing your face into the mattress like you could suffocate the memories away. why couldn’t you just be normal around him? why did your brain short-circuit every time he so much as glanced in your direction? why did your mouth betray you with increasingly unhinged comments that you would never say to anyone else?

outside your window, a car passed by, its headlights casting fleeting shadows across your bedroom walls. you stared at the ceiling, your chest tight with something between frustration and longing. 

part of you wished he would just call you out on it—laugh at you, tease you, anything to break this unbearable tension. at least then you’d know what he was thinking. at least then you could stop wondering if he pitied you, if he was uncomfortable, if he was counting down the minutes until these tutoring sessions were over.

but he didn’t. he just kept showing up, kept explaining equations with that same calm patience, kept sitting just a little too far away, close enough to teach, far enough to remind you that whatever this was, it was strictly academic.

the weird air conditioner of the library hummed softly overhead, as jungwon watched you fumble with your notebook for what felt like the hundredth time that session. 

your pencil—the third one you'd dropped in the past twenty minutes, slipped from your grasp again, rolling across the table toward him with a quiet clatter that echoed unnaturally loud in the nearly empty library.  he caught it effortlessly between his long fingers, the movement so smooth it was almost frustrating, and when his fingertips brushed against yours as he handed it back, you inhaled sharply like you'd been shocked, jerking your hand away way too fast and nearly knocking over your half empty water bottle in the process.

"thanks," you mumbled, staring down at your work like held the secrets of the universe rather than just being a series of meaningless numbers that refused to make sense no matter how long you stared at them. the numbers blurred together as you became hyper aware of every tiny detail, how close his arm was to yours on the table, the way his sleeve brushed against your wrist every time he reached to point something out, the faint scent of his laundry detergent that somehow made even the musty library air smell better.

jungwon cleared his throat in that careful way he always did when he was about to say something he'd clearly rehearsed in his head first, and you could practically see him mentally selecting each word before speaking. "you're getting better at these," he said, tapping the paper where you'd actually managed to solve one problem correctly against all odds. 

his voice was still calm and measured like always, but there was something softer in his tone today, something almost encouraging that made your traitorous heart skip a beat. "just need to watch your signs when you—"

"i got a B!" you suddenly blurted out, slapping your quiz paper onto the table with way more force than necessary, the sound reverberating through the quiet library like a gunshot. 

"on the last quiz! i mean, it's not an A or anything, and there's still like three red marks where i clearly didn't know what i was doing, but considering i was barely scraping D's before and mrs. kim said i might have to retake the class if i didn't improve and—"

and then, before your brain could catch up with your body's terrible decisions, you threw your arms around him in a burst of pure, unfiltered excitement that immediately turned into pure, unfiltered panic the second you made contact. you froze, suddenly hyperaware of every point where your bodies touched—how warm he was despite the library's aggressive air conditioning, how nice he smelled— like fresh cotton and something faintly minty with just a hint of citrus, how his breath hitched almost imperceptibly against your shoulder before his entire body went rigid with surprise.

you sprang back so fast your chair screeched against the floor, "oh my god, i'm so sorry, i don't know why i did that, that was completely inappropriate, i swear i wasn't trying to— i mean, i know we're not— i should've just—"

"it's fine," jungwon interrupted, his ears turning a shade of pink you'd never seen before and that you immediately committed to memory. 

he adjusted his collar unnecessarily, like he needed something to do with his suddenly fidgety hands, and you noticed the way his fingers trembled slightly before he clasped them together on the table. 

"you... you earned that B. good job." his voice sounded slightly strangled, like he was fighting to keep it steady while he was clearly flustered just as much as you were.

an awkward silence settled over you both that was so thick you could practically choke on it. you stared down at your hands, willing the burning in your cheeks to subside even as you could feel the heat spreading down your neck, while jungwon cleared his throat for what felt like the hundredth time and opened his planner with slightly too much force, scribbling something quickly before turning back to your work with forced professionalism.

"let's look at the ones you missed," he said, his voice steadier now but still not quite meeting your eyes, like he was forcing himself back into tutor mode through sheer willpower alone.

you nodded mutely, sneaking a glance at his planner when he wasn't looking (which was definitely an invasion of privacy but you were way past caring at this point). in the margin, in his annoyingly perfect handwriting that you'd secretly tried to imitate more than once, you could just make out: "focus: not how happy she looks right now" with the last three words crossed out messily but not completely, like he'd regretted writing them but couldn't bring himself to fully erase them either. the sight made something warm and fluttery settle in your chest despite your embarrassment.

the next week found you both in the library past closing time, the only ones left under the dimmed lights that cast long shadows across the tables. your head drooped dangerously close to your textbook as exhaustion weighed on you, your eyes struggling to stay open after hours of studying and what felt like gallons of terrible library coffee. the numbers on the page had started swimming together about thirty minutes ago, and you were pretty sure the last equation you'd written down was actually just nonsense at this point.

"maybe we should call it a night," jungwon suggested, packing his things with his usual quiet efficiency but moving slower than normal, like he was just as tired as you were. 

there was a faint smudge of ink on his cheek from where he'd absentmindedly rubbed his face earlier, and you had to physically restrain yourself from reaching out to wipe it away.

you lifted your head blearily, taking in the way the soft golden light caught his sharp features, highlighting the tired shadows under his eyes that made him look oddly vulnerable. his usually perfect hair was slightly mussed from running his hands through it one too many times, and a few dark strands fell into his eyes in a way that made your fingers itch to push them back. 

"mmm, but you're so cute when you're focused," you murmured without thinking, your sleep-deprived brain-to-mouth filter completely malfunctioning as the words slipped out in a drowsy mumble.

the second the words left your mouth, your eyes flew open wide as every ounce of drowsiness fled your body in a rush of sheer panic. jungwon's hands stilled on his notebook, his entire body going rigid like he'd been electrocuted. you watched in horrified fascination as a slow, creeping flush travelled up his neck, staining his cheeks a pink so vivid you could see it even in the dim lighting.

"i mean—! i mean you're very—! the way you explain things is—!" you buried your face in your hands with a groan, your voice muffled against your palms. "i'm going to walk into traffic. just push me into the street, it'll be kinder for everyone involved."

to your utter shock, jungwon let out a quiet huff of laughter, the sound so soft you almost missed it but so genuine it made your chest ache. "just go home and sleep," he said, his voice warmer than you'd ever heard it, with a fondness that made your traitorous heart skip several beats. 

"we'll pick this up tomorrow." he hesitated for a second before adding, almost too quiet to hear, "and... thanks. i guess."

the following afternoon, you slid a bubble tea across the table toward him without meeting his eyes, the condensation from the cup leaving a wet trail on the wooden surface. 

"here. for, uh. being smart. and stuff." you'd spent an embarrassing amount of time at the boba shop that morning agonising over which flavour to get him before remembering he'd mentioned liking taro once in passing months ago.

jungwon stared at the drink, then at you, his eyebrows inching upward toward his hairline in a way that would've been comical if you weren't currently dying inside. 

"you're thanking me... for being smart?" he asked slowly, like he was trying to parse some complex equation from your words.

"shut up," you groaned, taking an aggressive sip of your own drink to avoid having to explain further, the too-sweet strawberry flavour bursting across your tongue. 

jungwon's lips twitched in that barely-there smile you'd come to live for as he poked the straw through the seal, taking a slow, deliberate sip. the way his eyes lit up at the taste— like he was genuinely surprised you'd remembered his favourite flavour—made your stomach flip wildly, and you had to look away before you did something even more embarrassing than usual.

"it's good," he admitted after a moment, his voice softer than you'd ever heard it. 

"thanks." he took another sip, and you didn't miss the way his shoulders relaxed slightly, like the simple act of drinking something you'd brought him had unwound some tightly coiled tension in him.

"no problem," you muttered, not being able to fight the smile tugging at your lips, the way your chest felt weirdly light at the small victory of making him happy, even just a little. you pretended to focus on your notebook to hide your expression, but from the corner of your eye, you could see jungwon sneak glances at you between sips, his expression unreadable but his ears still faintly pink.

the final straw came during a group study session in the cafeteria, where you'd somehow gotten roped into joining jungwon and a few of his classmates at their usual table. the noise and chaos of the crowded lunch period should've made it easier to blend in, but you felt hyper aware of every glance, every movement, especially with jungwon sitting so close his knee kept brushing against yours under the table.

one of the guys from your class—park jisung, who thought way too highly of himself and had never met a mirror he didn't like—leaned over and scoffed at jungwon's neatly pressed white button down, his nose wrinkling in exaggerated distaste. 

"don't you ever wear anything that isn't so... boring?" jisung sneered, gesturing to his own aggressively trendy outfit like it was some kind of fashion revelation rather than looking like he'd fallen into a rack at hot topic. "i mean, come on, it's like you're trying to blend in with the walls."

before jungwon could even open his mouth to respond—not that he ever really bothered defending himself against stupid comments like this, you snapped, "at least he's hot," loud enough for the entire table to hear. 

the moment the words left your mouth, your brain caught up with your traitorous tongue, and the table erupted into laughter and wolf whistles that made you want to crawl under the table and die. you buried your face in your hands with a strangled groan, your entire body burning with humiliation as jisung made exaggerated kissy faces at you both.

when you dared to peek through your fingers, jungwon was staring at you with an expression you couldn't quite decipher. his ears were bright red, his lips slightly parted in surprise, but there was something dangerously close to amusement in his eyes, something almost fond as he calmly turned back to his notes like you hadn't just publicly declared him attractive in front of half your classmates. but you didn't miss the way his fingers trembled slightly as he flipped a page, or how he kept biting his lower lip like he was fighting a smile.

you pressed your cold hands to your burning face, wondering how much longer you could keep this up before you actually died of embarrassment. but judging by the way jungwon kept sneaking glances at you when he thought you weren't looking, the way his lips quirked up whenever you said something particularly ridiculous, the way he'd started sitting just a little bit closer during study sessions— it felt like you weren't the only one feeling this way. and that thought was terrifying and exhilarating in equal measure.

you'd been stuck on the same problem for what felt like hours, the pencil between your teeth nearly chewed to splinters when suddenly—

"you're doing it again."

jungwon's voice made you jump, your knee slamming against the underside of the table hard enough to make your eyes water. his hand appeared in your line of vision, gently prying the mangled pencil from your mouth and replacing it with a fresh one and —oh god—your favourite mint gum. 

"you’ll get lead poisoning at this rate," he said, his voice dry but his eyes oddly soft.

you unwrapped the gum with trembling fingers, the mint bursting sharp and sudden on your tongue. "how do you always know when i'm about to chew through another pencil?" you stammered, immediately cursing yourself for how breathy your voice sounded.

he shrugged, but you didn't miss the way his lips twitched at the corners. "you get this... look." he mimicked your frustrated pout, his face scrunching up in a way that should not have been as adorable as it was. "like the numbers personally offended you." 

his finger tapped your notebook, the sound startlingly loud in the quiet library. "now focus. midterms are next week."

"i know, i know," you groaned, slumping so low in your seat you were practically sliding under the table. "i just can't get this integration method to click in my stupid brain." you immediately regretted calling your brain stupid in front of him, your cheeks burning as you stared resolutely at your hands.

jungwon sighed, and then scooted his chair closer, his arm brushing against yours as he leaned over your paper. you could smell his delicious smelling shampoo once again and it took every ounce of willpower not to visibly sniff him like some kind of creep. 

"okay, watch," he murmured, his neat handwriting filling the margins of your notebook as he walked you through the steps. when you still looked confused, he huffed a quiet laugh that sent shivers down your spine. "you're overcomplicating it. it's just—"

"like reverse differentiation!" you blurted out too loudly, immediately slapping a hand over your mouth when the librarian glared at you(you had made a new enemy at this point). 

the concept had finally clicked, and in your excitement you'd momentarily forgotten where you were. "sorry, sorry," you whispered, shrinking into yourself. "i just... get it now."

the smile jungwon gave you then was devastating—all crinkled eyes, so different from his usual composed expression. "there you go." 

he reached into his bag and your heart stopped when his fingers brushed against yours as he slid a package of your favourite peach gummies toward you. "reward for the breakthrough."

you stared at the candy like it was some kind of alien artifact. "how do you even remember these are my favourite?" your voice came out embarrassingly high-pitched. "i mentioned that like one time months ago when we first—"

"i have a good memory," he interrupted, suddenly very focused on organising his already perfect notes. you didn't miss the faint pink tint to his ears though, and it made something warm and fluttery settle in your chest.

the following week found you drowning in midterm stress, your forehead pressed against the cool library table as you groaned dramatically. you didn't even hear jungwon approach until a warm cup of coffee was set down right next to your face—caramel latte with extra whipped cream, exactly how you always ordered it.

you sat up so fast you nearly headbutted him. "jungwon! i didn't— when did you—"

"thought you might need this," he said casually, taking the seat across from you like he hadn't just materialised out of your wildest dreams holding your favourite drink. his own black coffee looked bitter and depressing in comparison.

you wrapped your hands around the warm cup, frowning. "but the coffee shop is all the way across campus. don't you have class in like..." you checked your phone, "ten minutes?"

jungwon glanced at his watch with exaggerated seriousness. "eight actually. plenty of time." he took a sip of his black coffee before pulling out his notes, and you tried very hard not to stare at his throat as he swallowed. 

the session passed in its usual blur of numbers and formulas, but when you packed up to leave, jungwon didn't immediately bolt like he normally did. instead, he slowly, almost deliberately gathered his things, waiting until you'd zipped your backpack before asking, "how was your weekend?"

you froze, your fingers slipping on the zipper. jungwon didn't do small talk. jungwon especially didn't do small talk with you. 

"uh, good?" you squeaked, mentally cursing yourself. "i finally tried that new bubble tea place near the dorms."

"the one with the peach oolong you've been talking about?" he asked, shouldering his bag with infuriating grace.

your mouth fell open. "you remember that?"

he shrugged, but his ears were definitely pinker than they'd been a minute ago. "you mentioned it a few times. was it good?"

"yeah! it was amazing. you should—" you cut yourself off before you could blurt out 'you should go with me sometime,' nearly biting your tongue in the process. that would be too much, right? way too forward? he was just being nice because he was your tutor, not because he actually wanted to—

"maybe i will," he said quietly, interrupting your mental spiral. then, after a beat too long where you both just stood there awkwardly, he added, "see you wednesday," before walking away, leaving you standing there with your half finished coffee and a heart that felt like it might beat out of your chest.

wednesday's session ended with an even bigger surprise. as you were shoving your notebooks into your bag, jungwon suddenly said, "i was near that tea place earlier." he reached into his bag and pulled out a familiar cup with the café's logo. "got you the peach one. you said it was good, right?"

you took the drink with hands that definitely weren't shaking (they were), the condensation cool against your suddenly burning fingers. "you went all the way there?" your voice came out embarrassingly breathless. "that's like twenty minutes from your apartment."

jungwon shrugged, suddenly very interested in zipping up his pencil case with unnecessary focus. "i had time."

the drink was perfect—just the right amount of sweetness, with real peach pieces at the bottom that you may or may not have saved to eat last like some kind of lovesick weirdo. you tried not to read too much into the gesture, but when you got home, you carefully washed the cup and placed it on your shelf like some kind of sacred artifact, tracing the logo with your finger as you tried (and failed) not to smile like an idiot.

the next day, when you stopped by jungwon's apartment to return a notebook you'd borrowed (and definitely not because you wanted to see him again so soon), you spotted a familiar cup in his recycling bin—the same café's logo, but the peach oolong flavour instead of his usual black coffee. your heart did something complicated and painful in your chest.

he followed your gaze and immediately flushed, quickly kicking the bin under his desk with his foot. "it's not— i was just—"

"curious about the peach?" you finished for him, immediately wanting to die because why did that sound so suggestive? your face burned as you stared at the floor like it held the secrets of the universe.

jungwon ran a hand through his hair, looking more flustered than you'd ever seen him. "yeah," he admitted quietly. "something like that."

in that moment, with his ears turning pink and his usually perfect hair mussed from nervous fingers, you realised something terrifying and wonderful all at once —maybe you weren't the only one falling here. and when jungwon shyly met your eyes, the soft, uncertain smile on his lips told you he knew exactly what you were thinking.

your friends, of course, noticed the whole ordeal before you did. one of them cornered you after class a few days later, grinning like the devil as they leaned against your locker. 

“so… how’s your math husband?” she asked, their voice dripping with faux innocence.

you threatened violence, your face burning as you shoved her away, but the way your blush crept down your neck betrayed you completely. “we’re literally just studying,” you muttered, focusing very hard on stuffing your books into your bag so you wouldn’t have to meet their knowing gaze.

“you called him sir,” she reminded you, her grin widening. “in the first session. and don’t think i haven’t seen the way you look at him when he explains things—”

you were mid-way through plotting your revenge when your phone buzzed in your pocket. you yanked it out, ready to ignore whatever notification had popped up, but then you saw jungwon’s name on the screen and nearly dropped the damn thing.

“got snacks for our next session,” the message read. “hope your favourite gummy bears still apply as brain food :)”

you stared at your phone for five whole minutes, your friend’s cackling laughter fading into the background as you realised— he remembered once again. he remembered your favourite gummy bears, the ones you’d mentioned exactly once in passing months ago when you’d been complaining about the vending machine always being out of them.

your fingers hovered over the keyboard, typing and deleting at least seven different responses before you finally settled on a simple “they do,” followed by a heart that you immediately regretted but couldn’t bring yourself to unsend.

when he replied with just a thumbs up emoji, you buried your face in your hands and groaned, your friend’s laughter ringing in your ears as she patted your shoulder with far too much sympathy.

you were so, so screwed.

you slumped in the school’s auditorium’s chair, picking at a loose thread on your sleeve. academic awards assemblies were always painfully dull, and you'd only shown up because attendance was mandatory. 

when the principal started listing names for "most improved in mathematics," you zoned out entirely—until you heard your own name echo through the speakers.

your breath caught in your throat. that couldn't be right. you turned to your friend with wide eyes, only for her to shove you out of your seat with an excited squeal. "that's you, dumbass! go!"

your legs moved on autopilot as you shuffled toward the stage, nearly tripping on the steps in your haste. the principal's handshake was firm as he handed you the certificate, his booming voice saying something about "remarkable progress" that you barely registered over the blood rushing in your ears.

as you descended the stage, your eyes instinctively scanned the crowd—and there he was. jungwon sat halfway back, not whooping or whistling like some of your classmates, but smiling that small, private smile you'd come to recognise as his version of beaming. his hands came together in steady, measured applause, but the way his eyes crinkled at the corners made your stomach flip violently.

"i didn't even think they tracked that stuff," you mumbled to your friend when you returned to your seat, your face burning.

"oh please," she snorted, elbowing you. "we all know who's really responsible for this glow up."

later, when you opened your math binder at home, a yellow sticky note fluttered out. in jungwon's annoyingly perfect handwriting, it read:

proud of you! you did this. —j

your fingers trembled as you traced the letters. it shouldn't have meant so much —it was just a note, just a few words, but something about seeing his pride in writing, knowing he'd taken the time to leave this for you, made your chest ache.

before you could overthink it, you grabbed your phone and typed out a message: "hey so. i got this award today. maybe we should celebrate? my place after school tomorrow?"

the three dots appeared immediately, then disappeared, then appeared again. finally: "what did you have in mind?"

"idk. snacks. maybe a movie. unless you have better plans with your other students you've dramatically improved?" you added the teasing text before you could chicken out.

his reply came faster this time: "my schedule's miraculously clear. see you at 4."

when jungwon arrived the next day, he looked unfairly good in just a simple white t-shirt and jeans, his hair slightly messy from the wind. he held up a plastic bag with your favourite convenience store snacks. "brain food," he said, that small smile playing at his lips.

"you're such a nerd," you muttered, taking the bag and trying to ignore how your fingers brushed against his.

the first hour passed comfortably enough—junk food spread across your coffee table, some indie movie neither of you were really watching playing in the background. jungwon sat cross-legged on your floor, flipping through your math notes with that focused expression you knew so well.

"you missed a step here," he murmured, pointing to a problem. when you didn't respond, he glanced up to find you staring. "what?"

"nothing," you said quickly, looking away. then, before you could stop yourself: "do you actually think i was pretending to like you?"

jungwon's pencil froze mid-correction. he set it down carefully, his movements deliberately slow. "i wasn't sure what to think," he admitted after a beat. "you're kind of... a mess."

"thanks," you deadpanned, your voice cracking slightly.

"i didn't say it was a bad thing." his fingers tapped an absent rhythm against your notebook. "you're just... inconsistent. one minute you're calling me 'sir' and drawing hearts in your notes, the next you're pretending you don't know me in the hallway."

you swallowed hard. "that's because i panic! you're... you. and i'm..." you gestured vaguely at yourself.

jungwon's lips quirked. "my favourite mess?"

"shut up," you groaned, covering your face with your hands. when you peeked through your fingers, he was watching you with an expression you couldn't quite place—something warm and unbearably fond.

"for the record," he said quietly, "i bought that peach tea for you because i wanted to see you smile. i remembered your favourite gummies because i like the way your eyes light up when you eat them. i kept tutoring you long after you actually needed help because..." he trailed off, his ears turning pink.

your breath caught. "because?"

"because i'm an idiot," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

something bold and reckless surged in your chest. before you could overthink it, you leaned forward and kissed him. it was clumsy at first—you missed slightly, your nose bumping against his cheek before you corrected course. but then his hands came up to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing gently along your jawline, and everything clicked into place.

when you pulled back, breathless, jungwon didn't go far, his forehead resting against yours. "was that your way of saying you like me too?" you whispered.

he huffed a quiet laugh. "i left you a note in your binder. i bought you snacks. i—"

you cut him off with another kiss, this one softer, sweeter. "say it," you murmured against his lips.

jungwon pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his expression uncharacteristically vulnerable. "i like you. a lot. even when you're a mess. especially when you're a mess."

"good," you said, your voice wobbling slightly. "because i'm probably not going to stop being a mess anytime soon."

"i'd be disappointed if you did," he said, and when he kissed you this time, you could feel him smiling against your lips.

the semester ended much like it began—with you and jungwon in the library, textbooks spread across your usual table by the window. but this time, instead of sitting stiffly across from each other, his arm was slung casually over the back of your chair, his fingers playing idly with the ends of your hair as you struggled through one last practise problem before finals.

"you're overthinking it," he murmured, his breath warm against your temple as he leaned closer to look at your work. his free hand came up to point at a line halfway down the page, his chest pressing lightly against your shoulder. "see here? you did the hard part right, then second guessed yourself."

you huffed, "maybe i just like when you correct me."

jungwon snorted, but you didn't miss the way his ears turned pink. "you're impossible."

"you love me," you shot back automatically, then froze, your pencil slipping from your fingers. you hadn't meant to say that—not yet, maybe not ever—but the words had tumbled out before you could stop them.

for a terrifying second, jungwon was completely still behind you. then his hand left your hair to gently turn your chin toward him, his expression unbearably soft. "yeah," he said simply, like it was the easiest truth in the world. "i do."

your breath caught in your throat. you'd imagined this moment a hundred times, but none of your daydreams had prepared you for the quiet certainty in his voice, the way his thumb brushed gently over your cheekbone like you were something precious.

"even though i still don't understand half this math stuff?" you whispered, because you had to ruin the moment, had to give him an out just in case.

jungwon's lips quirked. "especially because you don't understand it. gives me an excuse to keep you around." he leaned in, his nose bumping playfully against yours. "and because you're stubborn. and messy. and you still sometimes call me 'sir' when you're flustered."

you groaned, hiding your face in his shoulder. "i thought we agreed never to talk about that again."

"we agreed no such thing," he laughed, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours. his arms came around you properly then, pulling you back against him as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "but if it makes you feel better, i've loved that about you since the beginning."

"you're such a sap," you muttered into his shirt, but you were smiling so wide your cheeks hurt.

later, when you walked out of your last final with jungwon waiting by the doors, his hand found yours without hesitation, his fingers lacing through yours like they belonged there. the sun was shining, your friends were whooping obnoxiously from across the quad, and for once—for once—you didn't overthink it. you just squeezed his hand back, leaned into his side, and let yourself be happy.

"so," he said as you walked toward the parking lot, his voice light but his grip on your hand just a little too tight, like he was afraid you might disappear. "does this mean i'm officially retired as your tutor?"

you bumped your shoulder against his, grinning up at him. "not a chance. i hear calculus is even harder."

jungwon groaned, but he was smiling as he pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple as the late afternoon sun painted everything gold. "lucky me."

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

[alohajix]

𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬

Description: when I show up at his door with a college essay and a short skirt, I tell myself it’s just for feedback. But Mr. Styles isn’t my teacher anymore—and the moment his hands find my skin, it’s clear we’re both done pretending.

Warnings: explicit sexual content, strong language, age gap (18 & 35), power imbalance, praise kink, edging, rough sex, hair pulling, light spanking, oral sex (f & m receiving), mirror sex, dirty talk & aftercare. Readers +18.

Words: ~7K.

don't forget about the taglist guys 🔥

requests are open; if you want me to write about something specific, feel free to ask 🫶🏻

*****

I shouldn’t be here. That’s the first thought I have when I step out of the car and onto the quiet suburban street. His house is tucked into the corner lot like it belongs in a magazine—clean lines, tall windows, dark wood paneling. Too perfect. Too intentional. Like him.

I don’t know what I expected. But I didn’t expect to feel this… nervous. The manila folder clutched in my hand is damp from the sweat of my palm. It holds my college essay, which I told myself was the reason for this visit. But even I know that’s a lie. I came here for him. For the man I spent all of senior year stealing glances at. The one I used to fantasize about while pretending I was too focused on Shakespeare to notice the way he rolled his sleeves up or leaned against the edge of his desk.

He never touched me. Never looked at me like that. But something simmered in the space between us. Something unspoken. And now? Now I’m not his student anymore.

I take a breath and ring the doorbell. The door swings open almost immediately. He fills the frame like he owns it—barefoot in dark slacks and a white button-up with the top two buttons undone. His sleeves are rolled, his hair longer than I remember, curling around his temples and behind his ears. He looks older. Sharper. Softer in the eyes, harder everywhere else.

“Hey, trouble.” His voice still has that quiet rasp, smooth and teasing.

My stomach flutters.

“Hi,” I say, a little too breathy. “Hope I’m not too early.”

“Not at all.” His mouth tips up at the corner. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

I smile like this is normal. Like I haven’t been replaying this moment in my head since I messaged him last week asking if he’d read over my essay. He said yes within minutes. Gave me his address and told me to stop by Saturday afternoon. And here I am—dressed in the only outfit that made me feel halfway confident. A soft white tank that hugs the shape of my chest. A dark skirt that hits mid-thigh. He looks at both. Doesn’t hide it.

“I figured I’d stop by and torture you one last time,” I joke.

His brow lifts. “One last time? Sounds like a threat.”

“Or a promise.”

He huffs a low laugh and steps back. “Come in.”

His house smells like cedarwood and clean laundry. It’s open, warm-toned, lived in. No photos on the wall. Just books. Lots of books. Stacked on shelves, under tables, on window sills. I pretend not to be impressed and sit where he gestures—on the couch near the fireplace.

“You want coffee?” he asks, heading toward the kitchen.

“Still drink it black,” I say without thinking.

He glances over his shoulder. “Still remember that?”

“You used to tease me for it.”

“I teased you for a lot of things.” Something in the way he says it makes my breath catch.

He disappears for a moment, and I take the opportunity to look around. The place feels like him—intellectual, quiet, a little mysterious. Like there are layers I’ve never seen. Like maybe I wasn’t wrong about what I thought I felt back then.

He returns with two mugs and hands me one. When he sits down beside me, I notice how close he is. His knee bumps mine. He doesn’t shift away. His cologne wraps around me—spiced, woody, something masculine and soft all at once. He smells like temptation.

“So,” he says, nodding to the folder in my lap. “What literary confession am I about to read?”

I hand it over, trying not to fidget. “It’s open-ended. I panicked and wrote about how literature helped me survive high school. And I might’ve mentioned you.”

He raises an eyebrow but says nothing, flipping it open and beginning to read. The silence stretches. He reads with the kind of focus that used to make my skin itch in the classroom—total, intent, like every word matters. His brow furrows slightly. His thumb rubs the corner of the page as he flips it. I stare at that thumb for too long. When he gets to the third page, he pauses.

“You wrote about The Great Gatsby.”

I nod. “Yeah. You stopped reading that day and asked the class why sadness sounds beautiful when it’s written well.”

His eyes don’t leave the page. “I remember.”

“You said sometimes pain is the only thing that feels honest.”

“I did.”

Silence settles between us again, heavier this time. He closes the folder, sets it on the coffee table.

“You always listened more than the others,” he says.

I shrug. “You always said things that were worth hearing.”

He glances sideways. “You really think so?”

“I wrote a whole essay about it.”

He leans back, one arm stretched along the back of the couch. His fingers graze my shoulder. My pulse skips.

“You look different,” he murmurs. “Grown.”

I glance at him, trying to read the expression on his face. “So do you.”

“Yeah?”

“You used to wear those tweed jackets. The elbow patch kind. Very ‘English professor with a tragic backstory.’”

He laughs. The sound is low and honest and hits me straight in the chest. “God, those jackets were hideous.”

“And now you look like…” I trail off, embarrassed. “Someone who probably writes poetry and breaks hearts for fun.”

He’s watching me too closely now.

“You always were good with words,” he says.

My throat dries. “So were you.”

His eyes flick down. My tank top. The way I’m sitting—ankle hooked over my knee, skirt riding up slightly. His gaze lingers, and this time, he doesn’t look away.

“Shouldn’t be looking at you like that,” he murmurs.

“But you are.”

He turns his head slowly to face me. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“But I am.”

“I should’ve said no.”

“But you didn’t.” Silence.

The air between us pulses. He leans forward slightly, just enough to make my heart race.

“What is it you’re really here for?” he asks. “Because we both know it’s not the essay.”

I swallow hard. My voice shakes. “I don’t know.”

“Bullshit.”

He shifts closer. I can feel the heat of his body now. His voice is lower. Rougher.

“You came here wearing that skirt. You knew what it would do to me.”

“I didn’t think—”

“Yes, you did. You’ve always known exactly what you’re doing.” I can’t breathe. “You used to stay after class just to get under my skin,” he says. “Asked questions you already knew the answers to. Sat in the front row like you weren’t the biggest distraction in the room.”

I shake my head, dizzy. “I thought I imagined it.”

He smirks. “You didn’t.” A beat passes. My skin tingles.

His hand reaches up—slow, deliberate—and brushes a loose strand of hair from my face. His fingers trail down, brushing my jaw, then stopping at my chin. He tilts my face toward his.

“I’m giving you one chance to leave,” he says quietly. “Right now. If you stay, I won’t be able to stop. I’ve wanted you too long to pretend anymore.”

I look at him—really look at him. His eyes aren’t teasing anymore. They’re dark. Serious. Wanting.

“I’m not leaving.”

“Say it,” he breathes.

“I want you.” That’s it. That’s the moment everything tilts.

His jaw clenches. His thumb brushes my lower lip. His eyes drop to my mouth, then my chest. Then he leans in so close I can feel the whisper of his breath. But he doesn’t kiss me. Not yet. His mouth brushes mine. Once. Barely there. A breath of a kiss that’s more threat than touch. My heart stumbles, tripping over the moment—over the heat radiating from his body, over the pressure in his fingers where they still rest under my jaw.

“I’m going to ruin you,” he whispers, voice so low I feel it in my stomach. “You know that, don’t you?” I nod. I don’t even blink. His lips ghost against mine again. “Say it.”

“I want you to.” And then he’s on me. Not soft. Not gentle. Just pure, hungry need.

His hand slides to the back of my neck, pulling me into the kiss like he’s been starving for it. His other hand grabs my thigh, yanking me toward him on the couch. I gasp against his mouth as my legs fall apart instinctively, one slung over his lap, the other bent awkwardly beneath me. The kiss deepens—tongue, teeth, a low groan that rumbles in his chest. His hand slides beneath my tank top, fingers dragging up my side until he cups my breast over my bra. His thumb brushes my nipple, and I moan into his mouth.

“I knew you’d be loud,” he mutters.

“You don’t know anything yet.”

He pulls back with a wicked grin. “No?”

Then he lifts my shirt. I suck in a breath as he drags the soft cotton up and over my head, eyes fixed on my chest. My bra is thin. Barely there. His gaze darkens.

“Off,” he says simply.

I reach behind me, unhook it, and let the straps fall from my shoulders. The sound he makes isn’t human. His hands come up, palms wide, rough and warm, as he cups both breasts in his hands and leans forward to mouth at one, then the other. His lips wrap around my nipple, sucking hard until I cry out, then he licks it to soothe the sting.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he groans. “So soft. So fucking pretty.”

My back arches into his mouth, hands gripping his shoulders. When he finally pulls back, my chest is wet and tingling and hot. He doesn’t give me a second to recover. He reaches down and grabs my thighs, pulling me to straddle him. My skirt rides up over my hips. His hands slide up under the hem, gripping my ass hard.

“You’ve been teasing me since you walked in here,” he growls. “You knew exactly what this would do to me.”

I grind down against him, already feeling the thick length of him beneath his slacks.

“I was hoping.”

“You’re gonna pay for that, sweetheart.”

He kisses me again, messier this time. His hands move to the front of my skirt, fingers finding the waistband of my panties. He tugs them down my hips, then slides a hand between my thighs. He groans against my mouth.

“Already soaked,” he whispers. “Dripping. Fuck.”

His middle finger slides through the wetness, finding my clit and pressing there, circling. My hips jerk, and I whimper.

“You like that?” he mutters. “You like me touching you like this?”

“Yes—please—”

“You sound so fucking sweet when you beg.”

He slides one finger inside me, then two. Slow at first. Deep.

“Oh my god—Harry—”

“That’s it. Say my name.”

His fingers curl, and I cry out. My nails dig into his shoulder. He moves faster, thumb back on my clit, relentless and focused. It doesn’t take long. I’m already close, already teetering— And then he stops.

“Don’t you dare,” he growls, yanking his hand back. “Not yet.”

I whimper, grinding down helplessly. He holds me still.

“You don’t come until I say so. Got it?” I nod. My whole body is shaking. My thighs are slick. My panties are long gone. “Good girl.”

He shifts suddenly, lifting me off him and standing. He pulls his shirt over his head in one swift motion. I stare at his chest—tattoos and soft muscle and skin I’ve only dreamed about. Then his fingers go to his belt. He undoes it slowly, watching me the entire time.

“You ever been fucked like this before?” he asks, pulling the leather free with a snap. I can’t speak. I just shake my head. He smirks. “Good.”

His pants drop, and then he’s stepping out of them, standing in front of me in nothing but black briefs that do nothing to hide how hard he is. My eyes drop instinctively, and my stomach flips.

“You want a taste?” he asks. I nod. “On your knees.”

I slide off the couch, palms hitting the hardwood. He steps closer. I look up at him, heart pounding, and then he hooks his fingers into the waistband of his briefs and pulls them down. My breath catches. He’s thick, long, flushed at the tip. Veins trail up the shaft. It’s intimidating—but all I want is to have him in my mouth. He strokes himself once. Twice.

“Open.” I do. “Good fucking girl.”

He slides the tip past my lips, groaning low in his throat. I wrap my hand around the base and suck him slowly, working inch after inch into my mouth. He’s big. Too big to take all at once, but I try. His fingers slide into my hair.

“Look at you,” he mutters. “Taking me so well. That mouth—fuck.” I hum around him, dragging my tongue along the underside. He twitches against my tongue, and I feel him pull out slowly. “Couch,” he rasps. “Now. Face down, ass up.”

I scramble back into position. My knees hit the cushions, chest pressed to the backrest. I feel him behind me, hands on my hips, dragging me back into place.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs.

“I need you.”

“You’ll get me.”

He teases me first—rubbing the head of his cock through my folds, smearing wetness along my slit. I moan. And then, without warning, he thrusts into me. I cry out—loud, raw, shocked at how deep he is. He fills me completely.

“Jesus,” he growls. “You’re so fucking tight.” He stills, buried to the hilt. “Take a breath, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.”

I whimper, clenching around him, and he groans again.

“Fuck, you feel like heaven.” Then he moves.

He pulls out slow, then slams back in, hard. I scream. His hands grip my hips tight, holding me in place as he begins to fuck me in earnest. The couch creaks beneath us. My skin slaps against his with every thrust.

“Listen to that,” he grunts. “You hear how wet you are for me?”

“Yes—Harry—oh my god—”

He leans forward, one hand sliding up my back to my neck. He grabs a fistful of hair, yanks me upright until I’m arching back against him.

“Look at yourself.”

I open my eyes and see us in the wall-length mirror across the room. He’s behind me—glowing with sweat, eyes dark, mouth parted. My body bounces with every thrust, breasts jiggling, mouth open, completely wrecked.

“You see that?” he pants. “That’s mine now.”

“Yours—yours—please—”

“You wanna come?”

“Yes—please, please—”

“Beg for it.”

“Please let me come. I need it, I—I can’t—”

“Good girl.”

He thrusts harder, hand sliding back down to my clit. One tight circle and I fall apart. It hits like a wave—white-hot, unstoppable, all-consuming. My body clenches around him, and I scream. He groans loudly, thrusts once more, and spills inside me with a guttural moan.

We collapse. He falls over me, breath hot on my back, heart pounding against my skin. We stay like that for a long time—pressed together, bodies slick, breath tangled. When he finally pulls out, I wince.

“Shh,” he murmurs. “You okay?” I nod.

He scoops me up—literally carries me—into the bathroom. He sits me on the edge of the counter and turns on the faucet, dampening a cloth with warm water. He cleans me slowly, gently. Kisses the inside of my thigh. My knee. My collarbone. He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t treat me like a mistake. When he’s done, he wraps me in a towel and pulls me into his lap on the couch. I tuck my face into his neck. His hand strokes my back.

“You really just came here for an essay?” he asks, teasing.

“Maybe I wanted… private lessons.”

He chuckles softly. “Lesson one: don’t wear skirts like that if you want to behave.”

“Who says I wanted to behave?”

He pulls back just enough to look at me, a smirk curling at his lips.

“You’re gonna get me in so much trouble.”

“Too late.”

His fingers trail lazily down my spine. I’m curled up on his lap, wrapped in one of his towels, skin flushed and tingling and exhausted in the best possible way. My thighs ache. My mouth is swollen. My body feels like it’s been dragged through a storm and rebuilt softer. He smells like sweat and clean skin and something warm I want to memorize.

Neither of us speaks for a while. There’s no pressure to. His hand just keeps moving—fingertips ghosting over my back, through my hair, along the ridge of my shoulder.

“You okay?” he murmurs eventually, voice low and rough against my temple.

I nod into his neck. “Mmhmm.”

“Still with me?”

“Barely,” I say, and he chuckles.

“That good, huh?”

I shift just enough to peek up at him. His hair is a mess. His lips are red. There’s a faint mark on his collarbone where I bit him by accident. He looks… different. Softer. Proud. Like he just did something sacred.

“You exceeded expectations,” I whisper.

“That’s a relief,” he says dryly. “Thought maybe I was out of practice.”

I roll my eyes and nestle back in. His fingers sweep my hair to one side and press a kiss to my shoulder. My skin buzzes under the weight of it.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks after a pause.

I take a breath. “That I’ve never done anything like that. Not like this.”

“Like what?”

“Where it didn’t feel like just sex.” He stills slightly beneath me.

“Wasn’t just sex,” he says finally. “Not for me.” My stomach does something stupid and slow.

We sit in it for a moment—whatever this is. I don’t know what it means. I don’t care right now. I just want to stay here.

“Also,” I mumble, “I can’t feel my legs.”

His hand slips under the towel to rest on my thigh. “Want me to rub them?”

“Only if you’re trying to start something again.”

He shifts, and suddenly I’m on my back again, towel slipping down to reveal my chest. His eyes darken as they rake over me.

“I always want to start something again,” he murmurs.

I grin. “Insatiable.”

He leans over me, one hand braced beside my head, the other tracing a line from my breast to my hip.

“You know how hard it was back then?” he asks, voice low. “Trying to act like you weren’t driving me mad?”

I blink. “Wait—back then?” He nods slowly.

“I never crossed a line. I never would’ve. But every time you stayed after class… every time you looked at me like you knew…”

“I did know,” I whisper. “I just didn’t think you’d ever admit it.”

He dips down and presses a kiss to my collarbone. Then another, lower.

“I told myself I’d forget you after graduation.”

“Didn’t work?”

“Clearly not.” He kisses between my breasts. “Every time I ran into your name in the gradebook, I remembered your handwriting. The way you used to twirl your pen when you were nervous. The way you’d go quiet when something hit too deep.” His hand slides between my legs. “I remembered wondering what your voice would sound like when you begged.”

My breath catches. “You remember it now?”

He looks up at me from between my thighs, mouth hovering.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says. “I’ll never forget it.”

He leans in and licks a slow stripe through my folds. I gasp—sharp and high-pitched. My body’s still sensitive. Too sensitive. But he doesn’t stop. He spreads my thighs, kisses the inside of each, and starts again.

“Harry—oh god—”

“You’re already shaking.”

“I—can’t—”

“Yes, you can.”

He pushes two fingers inside me, slow but deep. His tongue flicks my clit with soft, relentless pressure, and my hands fly to his curls, tugging hard.

“You’re gonna come again,” he murmurs. “Right on my mouth. Want to taste all of you this time.”

I’m already spiraling. My thighs shake. My hips lift. The pleasure builds fast, sharp, all-consuming— And then I fall apart. It hits different this time. Slower. Deeper. Like falling into something warm and heavy and endless. I cry out his name, sobbing against the towel beneath me. He doesn’t stop until I push weakly at his shoulders.

When he finally pulls back, he kisses my knee and crawls up beside me, brushing sweaty hair from my forehead.

“Still with me?” he teases.

“Barely.”

He grins and kisses me—slow, messy, soft. I taste myself on his tongue and moan into his mouth. When he pulls away, he grabs a blanket from the back of the couch and wraps it around both of us, tugging me into his chest. We stay there. Breathing. Drifting. I’m not sure how much time passes.

Then I hear him say quietly, “You don’t have to leave right away.”

I look up. “No?”

He shakes his head. “Stay the night. Stay as long as you want.”

I study him for a beat. His eyes are open. Earnest. A little uncertain.

“I want to,” I whisper.

His whole body relaxes under me. Like maybe he was hoping I’d say that more than he wants to admit.

“I still have your essay,” he says with a grin.

“Oh, right,” I tease. “That was the whole reason I came here.”

“Sure it was.”

I smirk. “Are we still pretending you didn’t bend me over the couch?”

He chuckles. “That was a bonus. I take my mentoring responsibilities very seriously.”

“Uh-huh.”

He brushes his lips against mine.

“I meant it,” he says quietly. “Lesson one.”

I raise a brow. “What’s lesson two?”

His voice dips, low and filthy. “How much you can take before you start crying.” My breath catches. He grins. “But that’s for next time.”

*****

@cloudyluun @gem1712

[aajjks]

Mommy Issues (V)

Synopsis. They wanted you, they needed you.

Pairing. Yandere single dad jungkook x fem reader

Warnings. Yändërë bëhàvìøür, ëmøtìøñàl mánìpùlàtìøñ, pøssëssìvënëss, dëlùsìøñàl thìñkìñg, gùìlt-trìppìñg, jùñgkøøk bëìñg wëìrdly søft ànd scàrÿ àt thë sàmë tìmë, ùnhéàlthÿ àttàchmënt, sèdúctìón, lónlínèss.

note. OH MY GOD I KNOW YOU GUYS HAVE PROBABLY FORGOTTEN ABOUT THIS BUT LIKE SERIOUSLY I MISS THIS SO MUCH SO I HOPE YOU GUYS WILL LIKE THIS CHAPTER. PLEASE SHARE YOUR FEEDBACK AND LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED REPLY UNDER THIS POST!

series masterlist.

•••

The house is too quiet.

That’s the first thing jungkook notices when they get home.

Seol runs inside ahead of him, dropping his little backpack by the door like always, shoes half-kicked off, already calling for his tablet.

Jungkook doesn’t move.

He stands in the hallway with the door still cracked open behind him, hand on the knob, heart way too loud in his ears.

He can’t stop thinking about you.

Your face.

The way you looked at him when he said it. Like he’d shattered something between you with that one sentence.

You’re not his mother. You’re just his teacher.

God.

He didn’t mean it. Or maybe he did. He’s not even sure anymore.

He just wanted to hurt you the way you hurt him. The way you made his son feel like he wasn’t normal.

Like he loved too hard. Like needing you was a problem.

But it’s not.

It’s not.

Jungkook locks the door, finally, and shrugs off his jacket. He can hear seol’s little voice somewhere in the house, but he can’t make out the words.

Probably talking to his tablet again.

Or talking to you. He’s been doing that lately. Pretending to FaceTime you.

It’s cute. It’s scary.

Jungkook walks to the kitchen and grabs a beer, doesn’t bother with a glass. His hand is still shaking a little when he takes the first sip.

Why did you look so… disappointed?

Why did you make him feel like some broken thing?

You smiled at him just days ago. You tucked his son’s scarf under his chin. You touched his shoulder when you laughed at that dumb joke he made.

You wanted them.

He saw it.

So why are you backing away now?

What changed?

“Daddy,” a small voice says from the hallway. Seol’s peeking around the corner, thumb in his mouth. His eyes are wide. Wet. “Are you mad?”

Jungkook blinks. “No, baby. I’m not mad.”

Seol shuffles into the room and wraps his little arms around jungkook’s leg. “Miss yn didn’t say bye to me.”

And just like that, jungkook wants to punch a wall.

He crouches down slowly and cups seol’s face in his hands. “She still loves you. Okay? She’s just confused. Grown-ups get confused sometimes.”

Seol sniffs. “But I didn’t mean to be bad…”

“You weren’t bad.” Jungkook kisses his forehead. “You were perfect. You were just trying to protect what’s yours.”

He means it.

He means every word.

Jungkook tucks his son into bed a little early that night. Reads him his favorite story twice.

Holds him until his breathing slows.

Then sits beside him for a long time, staring at the glowing nightlight and the picture on the wall.

The one seol drew.

Stick figures. Him. Daddy. And you.

Under a rainbow.

Labeled “our family.”

Jungkook stares at it until his throat hurts.

You don’t get to walk away.

You made them need you.

So now you have to stay.

•••

The morning starts soft.

Sunlight spills, Jungkook wakes up before his alarm, which never happens, but something about the quiet feels right today.

He stretches and slips out of bed without waking seol, who somehow ended up tangled in the covers beside him again. Tiny limbs everywhere.

Drool on his pillow.

God, he’s perfect.

Jungkook stares for a moment, just watches his son’s chest rise and fall, messy hair sticking up in every direction.

He’s all he has.

He’s all he needs.

And now… they have a mission.

•••

“Come here, baby.” Jungkook kneels in front of seol, zipping up his puffy little coat. “Let me fix your hair.”

Seol groans dramatically, already eating a rice cracker in one hand while holding a toy car in the other. “You always make it look weird.”

“It’s called handsome.” Jungkook grins, ruffling the front until it doesn’t look like a bird nest. “Miss yn likes it like this, remember?”

Seol perks up at that.

Jungkook sees it. Sees the glow in his face whenever you’re mentioned. It stings.

He ties seol’s shoelaces slowly.

“You know what?” Jungkook says softly. “I think… maybe we don’t talk to miss yn too much today.”

Seol frowns. “Why?”

“She’s a little… busy lately.” He keeps his tone gentle. Like it’s nothing serious. Like he isn’t burning inside. “And sometimes when people are busy, they don’t like being bothered.”

“But… she likes when I talk to her…”

Jungkook nods, brushing seol’s cheek. “I know. I know you love her.”

He swallows.

“But today… maybe just wave. Be polite. But not too much. Let’s give her space, okay? If she wants to talk, she’ll come to us.”

Seol is quiet for a second, then nods. “Okay…”

Jungkook kisses the top of his head. “That’s my boy.”

He zips up his own jacket, picks up seol’s little lunchbox, and heads for the door with his son’s tiny hand tucked in his.

They’re the perfect picture.

A young father. A devoted son. Matching shoes.

But inside?

Inside jungkook is ice.

He’s still angry. Still hurt. You made him feel small yesterday. Like he wasn’t doing enough. Like his love wasn’t enough.

So fine.

If you think you can turn away from them, he’ll show you what that feels like.

You want to act like you’re just the teacher?

Then that’s all you’ll be.

For now.

•••

The classroom is already buzzing when you look up and see them walk in.

Jungkook with his hand on seol’s back, guiding him through the little sea of cubbies and jackets. He doesn’t even glance at you.

Not even once.

Your heart dips. But it’s fine. You’re used to parents being distant after difficult conversations. You can handle this. You’re professional.

But then seol walks past you too.

No bright “miss yn!”

No little hug around your waist like he usually does.

Not even eye contact.

He just walks straight to his seat and sits down, fiddling with the zipper of his jacket.

You feel it like a slap.

You blink. Smile. Try not to let it show on your face. “Good morning, seol.”

Nothing.

He doesn’t respond.

Jungkook is standing at the door, arms crossed, silent. He meets your eyes now, just briefly. His expression is unreadable.

Cold.

“Thank you for yesterday,” you manage to say, keeping your voice soft. “I hope—;”

He cuts you off. “We’re good.”

That’s all.

Then he’s gone.

And you’re standing there like a ghost.

•••

You make it through the first hour of class on autopilot.

Your voice is gentle. Your instructions are clear. But your eyes keep flicking to the corner where seol is sitting, shoulders small, lips pressed together, refusing to look at you.

Your chest aches.

You want to walk over and crouch beside him. Ask him what’s wrong. Run your hand through his hair the way he used to love.

But you don’t.

Because you know what this is.

You’ve seen it before.

You’ve felt it before.

A man with power. Pulling the strings. Turning love into a punishment.

You press your hand to your stomach for a second, right where the pain used to be. The pain that never really left.

You remember the hospital. The pale blue gowns. The way your hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

The nurse who asked, “Was this your first?”

You nodded.

You lied.

That baby was already real to you.

You already loved them.

And now? now you’re losing another one.

Even if seol’s not yours, he was something close.

Something sacred.

And you don’t know how to stop the tears welling in your eyes as you turn away from the class, just for a second. Just long enough to breathe through it.

You’re just his teacher.

That’s what jungkook said.

That’s what he wants you to be.

But he doesn’t know what it cost you to love his son the way you did.

And he doesn’t know what it’s doing to you to let go.

•••

You wait until story time. The kids are all sitting on the carpet, half-listening, half-daydreaming.

Seol is sitting cross-legged at the very edge, back straighter than usual, like he’s trying not to look comfortable.

You pretend it’s nothing.

You keep your voice steady as you read, but your eyes flick to him again and again.

He doesn’t raise his hand like he used to. Doesn’t giggle when you do silly voices. Doesn’t lean against your leg, even though he’s sitting right there.

You close the book and say, “Okay, let’s go get ready for snack time.”

As the kids scramble up, you place a gentle hand on seol’s shoulder, just like you always used to.

He flinches.

It’s small. Barely there. But he flinches.

And then he stands up without looking at you. Walks away without saying a word.

You follow him.

Your voice is barely above a whisper. “Seol…”

He stops at the sink, washing his hands.

You kneel beside him, slow and careful, like he’s something fragile.

“Hey,” you say softly. “Are you okay?”

He doesn’t answer.

He just nods.

It shatters you.

Because seol is never like this. He always has something to say. Always wants to show you something, tell you something, ask for something.

You try again.

“You’re being really quiet today,” you murmur. “Did something happen?”

He dries his hands. Doesn’t meet your eyes.

“No,” he says.

Just that. No.

It’s not angry. It’s not rude. It’s just…

Empty.

You’re still kneeling there as he walks away to join the other kids, and you feel like the floor could split open beneath you and you’d just disappear into it.

You sit on your knees for a few more seconds before you slowly get up, your legs numb, your hands trembling.

This isn’t just about him being tired.

This is deliberate.

And now you know exactly who taught him how to do it.

•••

You find a moment alone in the staff bathroom. You close the door. You sit on the closed toilet lid and press your hands to your face.

You don’t cry.

Not yet.

But you feel it creeping up your throat like nausea.

You were a mother once.

Not for long. Not even long enough to hear a heartbeat. But you felt it. Felt them.

And when they left, you thought that maybe that part of your heart would just stay empty forever.

And then there was seol.

Seol who clung to your leg the first week of school. Seol who drew you pictures of his “family” and put you right in the middle.

Seol who looked up at you with love like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You didn’t try to take his mother’s place.

You didn’t mean to.

But he gave you that role.

And now. now he’s being taught to unlove you. To unneed you.

To keep you out.

And it hurts in a way you can’t even explain. It’s a grief that has no name.

Because how do you mourn a child that was never really yours?

How do you mourn a second time?

•••

The day ends slow.

Painfully slow.

Every smile you force feels like peeling a band-aid off skin that’s still bleeding underneath.

Seol doesn’t come to show you his crayon drawing.

Seol doesn’t ask for help opening his snack.

Seol doesn’t even flinch when you help another student zip their backpack.

You keep checking. Watching. Hoping.

But he’s gone. Still right there. but emotionally, he’s already been walked away.

The final bell rings and your chest squeezes like it always does when it’s time for dismissal.

Usually, you’re crouched down with open arms when seol runs into them, squealing about something that happened at lunch.

Usually, he makes you promise to come watch him draw chalk outside before his dad gets there.

Today, he stands by the door like a stranger.

You call each name one by one as the kids are picked up, and you pretend your eyes aren’t glancing to the street every five seconds.

And then you see him.

Jungkook.

Standing tall in that all-black outfit like he’s about to bury you.

His hair’s still a little messy, and his hand is tucked into his pocket, but his face?

Blank.

Cold.

You call seol’s name and the little boy lights up. It’s instinctive. Like a switch was flipped.

He runs.

Straight into his father’s arms.

“Appa!” he squeals.

You watch jungkook drop to one knee to scoop him up. Seol throws his arms around his neck, burying his nose against his cheek.

“I missed you!” he says.

You feel your heart rip a little more.

Because he used to say that to you.

You see jungkook’s mouth twitch with the faintest smile as he lifts his son, holding him close like a trophy.

You try to look away. You try to breathe through it.

But then jungkook looks straight at you.

And that’s when he twists the knife.

“Did you have a good day?” he asks seol, loud enough that you can hear.

The boy nods quickly. “Uh huh! I didn’t talk to miss yn just like you said!”

Your stomach drops.

Jungkook doesn’t flinch.

He just brushes his son’s hair back gently and murmurs, “Good boy.”

You nearly stumble.

There’s this heavy silence pressing against your ribs and you’re trying not to show how fast your pulse is racing. You’re trying not to cry.

He meets your eyes again, gaze calm—almost amused.

Like this is what you asked for.

Like this is what you deserve.

“You ready to go, bud?” he says, and seol nods again, still clinging tight.

And then jungkook turns.

Walks away without a word to you.

Not even a glance back.

You’re left standing there, arms empty, watching the boy you loved be carried away like you were never anything at all.

This is the consequence of your concern.

•••

The ride home is quiet at first.

Jungkook adjusts the mirror. Checks the street. Buckles seol in, tight and gentle.

He doesn’t speak.

Not until he knows you’re watching.

He saw your face at pickup. Saw the pain, the guilt, the confusion spinning like a storm behind your eyes. You looked so lost. So broken.

It made him hard.

He pulls out from the school lot slow and smooth, his voice low but firm.

“You did good today, seol-ah.”

The little boy beams in his car seat. “I did what you said! I didn’t talk to miss yn!”

Jungkook hums.

His hand rests on the steering wheel but his knuckles are white from how tightly he’s gripping it.

“That’s right,” he says softly. “Because she’s not your mommy. You remember that now, right?”

Seol nods, a little slower this time. His voice drops, quieter. “Yeah… she’s just my teacher.”

“That’s right, baby,” jungkook murmurs. “She’s just a teacher. And teachers don’t get to love you like I do.”

He glances in the rearview mirror. Seol is kicking his legs gently, humming to himself now.

It’s almost too easy.

He knows it hurt you. The silence. The rejection. He knows how tender you are.

he’s watched it grow.

The way you used to touch seol’s hair like it was sacred. The way you bent down to his level and told him he was brave. The way you always said our boy during conferences.

And yet, you had the nerve to stand there and say he had a problem for loving you too much.

No, baby. You just didn’t understand. You still don’t.

But you will.

Jungkook reaches into the console and pulls out a small pack of gummies. He hands it back to his son.

“Good boys get treats,” he says, and seol lights up.

You should be here to see this.

But you’re not.

That’s the point.

“You know…” jungkook starts again, voice dripping low, almost wistful. “If she was your mommy…”

He trails off.

Lets it hang.

Seol tilts his head, curious. “What?”

Jungkook smiles, slow and secretive.

“If she was your mommy, she’d be here in the car with us. She’d sit next to you, maybe even hold your hand. She’d help you pick what to eat for dinner. She’d tuck you in and kiss your forehead.”

Seol goes quiet.

Jungkook watches his son blink up at the ceiling, his little mind drawing pictures he can’t fully understand yet.

“She’d love you forever,” jungkook finishes softly.

And in his head— he sees it.

You.

In the passenger seat.

Hair messy, eyes soft. Your hand resting on the center console, close enough to touch. Seol in the back, giggling. A little family. His family.

But you ruined it.

You said things you shouldn’t have.

So now?

Now he’ll make you want it so badly you’ll beg to be part of it.

You’ll beg to be his.

“Appa,” seol says quietly, “do you think miss yn is sad?”

Jungkook’s smile grows.

That twisted, beautiful smile.

“Maybe,” he says.

And he drives the rest of the way home with that ache in his chest slowly fading into satisfaction.

Because you’re hurting.

Because you miss something that was never yours.

And because he knows—

It won’t be long until you come crawling back.

Begging to be her again.

Begging to be theirs.

•••

Later that night, the silence is too loud.

You’re still in your work clothes.

Sitting at the edge of your bed. Staring at the folded drawings seol made you two weeks ago.

Crayon hearts. Stick figures with messy smiles. One of them had you holding his hand and saying “I’m proud of you.”

He used to shove them into your hands every day like they were treasure.

You trace the wobbly letters with your finger and your throat tightens.

God, you miss him.

It’s been one day and you miss him like you lost a limb.

And it hurts even more because you know that detachment wasn’t his idea. Seol’s just five.

A soft, clingy little thing who loves big and easy.

He doesn’t understand emotional punishment. He doesn’t understand passive rejection.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing to you.

Someone told him to do it.

But you don’t blame jungkook.

Because maybe… maybe he’s right.

Maybe you were too harsh in that meeting.

Maybe you shouldn’t have said it like that. Called his son possessive. Said “he’s not your mother” out loud.

It sounded so clinical. So cold. You didn’t mean it to be. You just wanted to help.

But now?

Now that warm, sweet little boy is looking right through you.

And the worst part?

You can’t even be mad at him. You get it.

You press your hand to your chest, eyes blurring.

You’ve always been maternal. Even when you tried to pretend you weren’t anymore.

But no one knows what you’ve lost. No one knows the way your arms still ache when you wake up some nights.

No one knows how your heart cracked in half when you lost your baby in that apartment with the thin walls and the screaming man who never loved you.

You never got to hold her.

But seol…

He made you feel like a mother again.

For just a moment. He gave you the thing you were so sure you’d never have.

And now he’s gone.

You blink back tears, but they come anyway. Hot and heavy. You curl in on yourself and try to swallow the sobs.

Maybe this is your punishment.

You tried to set boundaries. You tried to do the right thing. But it feels like you’ve only made it worse.

And the image that haunts you the most?

Seol’s face as he ran into his father’s arms. That tiny, bunny smile.

The soft brown hair, those Bambi eyes. He looks just like jungkook.

You can’t stop seeing it.

The way he clung to him. The way he laughed. The way he didn’t even look back.

You lost two people in that parking lot today.

And you don’t know how to get them back.

Maybe you shouldn’t.

Maybe you can’t.

You don’t even notice your phone vibrating at first. You wipe your face and blink at the screen.

Mr Jeon:

[9:52 PM]

I hope your day was peaceful, Miss yn. Seol had a wonderful one. Thank you for everything you’ve done for him. Truly.

You stare.

No name. No heart emoji. Just that cold politeness that stabs like a knife.

You type a reply. Then delete it.

Then cry harder.

Because you miss them.

And the worst part?

You’re starting to believe you don’t deserve them.

•••

The house is quiet.

Not the kind of quiet that’s peaceful. No, this is curated. Designed. Controlled.

The lamp in the living room hums softly. The wine glass on the table is half full. The screen of his phone glows against his skin, illuminating the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

He reads the message again.

I hope your day was peaceful, Miss yn. Seol had a wonderful one. Thank you for everything you’ve done for him. Truly.

Polite. Distant. Perfect.

It sounds just fake enough to stab.

He takes a slow sip of wine, eyes flicking to the couch across from him.

Seol is fast asleep there, curled up with his favorite blanket. Lips parted. Cheek smushed against the pillow.

One arm clinging to the stuffed rabbit you gave him on his birthday.

It’s kind of cruel, really. How easily seol trusts.

But that’s what makes this so easy.

So beautiful.

Jungkook reaches for his phone again. Opens his camera. Snaps a quiet photo of the boy, soft and small and vulnerable.

The bunny toy in frame. That’s the detail that makes his smile widen.

He hovers his thumb over your contact. The urge to send it pulses in his fingertips.

You’d break down if you saw it.

He knows you would.

You’d take one look at that little boy with his matching smile and think about everything you’ll never have.

Not unless he gives it to you.

Not unless he lets you have them again. But he doesn’t send the photo. Not yet.

He wants to wait.

Let you sweat. Let your guilt simmer until it burns. Until you’re begging to be let back in. Until you think you’re the one who left.

That’s the thing about good manipulation. It’s never rushed.

He’s been alone a long time. He’s gotten good at waiting. And now that he has something worth fighting for worth keeping? he’s not about to let it go.

You were too good at loving seol.

Too gentle.

Too warm.

And when you looked at him with those soft eyes, when you smiled and asked if he’d been eating properly, if he was sleeping okay.

jungkook couldn’t stop thinking about it for days.

Not because he wanted your care.

Because he wanted it forever.

From the same person.

Over and over. On his terms.

His.

He leans back, phone resting on his chest. Wine glass in his other hand. His gaze drifts to the side table where a folded paper rests.

One of seol’s drawings.

Stick figures. You, him, and seol. All holding hands. Big red heart in the middle.

He keeps it close. Like a promise. Like a prophecy.

You’ll come back.

You have to.

Because you were made to be theirs.

And the longer he keeps you out, the harder you’ll try to claw your way in.

•••

You read the message five times.

Then a sixth.

You sit on the edge of your bed, the silence of your apartment suddenly heavy. Your phone is still in your hand, thumb trembling slightly over the screen.

The glow of it makes your eyes sting, but you can’t look away.

I hope your day was peaceful, Miss yn. Seol had a wonderful one. Thank you for everything you’ve done for him. Truly.

Miss yn.

Truly.

Your chest tightens.

You almost laugh. He used to call you “yn” like it was a delicate, precious thing. And now you’re back to Miss yn.Like a stranger.

Like the woman across the hall who used to matter.

You set the phone down, face down on the comforter, like it’s infected.

But it doesn’t stop the ache.

Because all you can think about is seol.

Sweet, clingy seol. The boy who used to throw his arms around you and bury his little nose in your neck when he didn’t want to say goodbye.

The boy who used to smile like you were the sun.

And today? He didn’t even meet your eyes.

He clutched his backpack straps too tightly and gave a quiet, polite “bye.” And that was it. No hug. No smile. Nothing.

And the worst part is— he looked just like his father.

The same bunny smile. The same soft, dark lashes and wide, unblinking eyes. The same ability to gut you without saying a word.

You press your hand to your stomach, not because it hurts—but because there’s a ghost of something that used to live there. Something you lost.

A baby that never made it.

Maybe you’re too soft.

Too maternal.

Maybe that’s why this hurts so much. Because somewhere in the back of your mind, you let yourself feel like a mother again.

And now it’s gone.

Stripped.

Ripped away with a smile and a formal text from the man who lives just across the hall.

You stand up too fast. You don’t know where you’re going, but you end up by the window.

Your building complex is quiet. The lights in jungkook’s apartment are still on.

You can’t see much from here—but it makes your chest ache anyway.

You press your fingers to the glass.

It’s pathetic, maybe.

But you just miss him.

Both of them.

You miss the boy who called you mama in his sleep, even though you told him not to.

You miss the father who used to watch you like you hung the stars, even when you pretended not to notice.

You pick up your phone.

You start to type a reply. Just something simple. Something soft.

I’m glad he had a good day. I’ve been thinking about him.

Delete.

Too much.

You try again.

Thank you for the update. Please let me know if he needs anything.

Too formal.

You delete it again.

In the end, you don’t send anything at all.

You just curl up on your side of the bed. The side that’s always cold. And you wonder— just for a second. what it would be like to live in the warmth of their home instead.

Even if it’s built on a lie.

Even if it hurts.

Because love always hurts. And you?

You already know what it’s like to lose a child.

You don’t think you can survive losing another—even if he was never yours to begin with.

•••

You feel weird.

Attached. Too attached.

You’ve been thinking about Seol all night. The way he brushed you off. The way he used to cling to you like you were his lifeline. Now he barely acknowledges you.

You never meant to get this close to a student.

But here you are. Sitting in your apartment, heart heavy. You’re too deep in this, too involved.

You need to clear your head.

You decide to go outside. Maybe the cold will help.

The wind hits you hard as you step out onto the balcony. It cuts through you. Makes your chest tighten.

You don’t expect it, but it hits you all at once.

You feel the tears.

You try to hold them back, but they fall anyway.

I have to make it up to him, you think.

Seol. The sweet boy who doesn’t even know what happened. He doesn’t understand why he’s being distant.

You should apologize. Maybe that’ll fix it.

Maybe if you talk to Jungkook tomorrow, maybe you can fix it.

But there’s a lump in your throat.

You know you’re being manipulated. You know this is more than just a mistake.

You’re already in too deep.

And as the wind whips around you, you don’t know how to stop yourself from falling even deeper.

•••

It’s almost midnight when you finally decide.

You’ll bring cookies. Just a small gesture. Something to say “I’m sorry” without using words.

It’s Saturday tomorrow—no school. You know they’ll be home. And maybe if Seol sees you outside of the classroom, it’ll soften him. Maybe he’ll remember how much you care.

You bake them yourself.

Sleep-deprived, face still puffy from crying, but your hands move like they know what to do.

Like they’re aching for something warm, something gentle, something motherly.

Chocolate chip. The kind he once said was his favorite.

You go to bed feeling a little calmer. A little bit stupid. But hopeful.

The next morning, you’re at their door by ten.

Your hand hovers over the doorbell.

Then— press.

A few seconds pass.

And then the door swings open.

Jungkook stands there.

He’s wearing grey sweatpants and a fitted black tee, like he didn’t expect company but somehow still looks devastating. His tattoos peek from the sleeves.

His hair is messy. He looks… domestic.

You almost forget why you’re there.

Then his eyes drop to the cookies in your hand.

You smile, nervously. “Um… I brought something for Seol. Just thought maybe— uhh I know it seems a little inappropriate that I’m here, but you know I’m here as a neighbor..”

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says.

Not rude. But not welcoming, either.

Still, he opens the door wider.

“Come in.”

You step inside.

The apartment smells like detergent and lemon and something soft. You don’t know why that makes your chest ache.

You spot Seol curled up on the couch, a little blanket over his lap, cartoons playing softly on the TV.

But he doesn’t jump up when he sees you.

He just blinks.

“Hi sweetheart,” you say gently. He waves. A small, half-hearted wave.

And it punches the breath out of you.

You turn to Jungkook, trying to stay composed.

“I didn’t mean to intrude. I just… wanted to see him. I felt bad.”

“Why?” he asks. His tone is innocent. Too innocent.

You blink. “After the meeting. I think maybe I… overstepped.”

He doesn’t reply.

You place the cookies on the counter.

“I know it doesn’t fix anything, but I hope he likes them.”

Jungkook nods slowly. Then he steps a little closer.

“You didn’t have to bring anything.”

His voice is low. Soft. He looks at you with those deep, unreadable eyes.

“But you did.”

You feel your stomach twist.

He walks past you, picks up one of the cookies, bites into it. Chews, thoughtful. Then…

“These are really good.”

You smile, a little. “I’m glad.”

He takes another bite. Still watching you.

“He missed you yesterday,” he says suddenly.

Your heart jumps. “He did?”

Jungkook nods, licking a bit of chocolate from his thumb.

“He told me after we got home. Said he missed your hugs. Your voice.”

You feel your eyes sting.

“I think he was just… confused,” you whisper.

“Maybe,” Jungkook says. “Or maybe he just needs someone who won’t leave.”

You stare at him.

His words are so simple.

But they feel like a blade.

“I never meant to—;”

“I know.”

Silence.

The TV buzzes softly in the background. You hear Seol’s soft humming from the couch.

The warmth of their home is thick around you, pulling you in.

And yet— why does it feel so lonely?

Why does it feel like you’re on the outside, looking in?

Like you’re being allowed in for just a moment. Just enough to crave it. Just enough to never forget what it felt like.

Jungkook looks at you for a long, long second.

Then he smiles.

Small. Gentle.

“You can stay for coffee if you want.”

•••

You sit on the edge of their couch with your hands curled around the warm coffee mug, trying to stop the ache in your chest from spreading.

The apartment is quiet, except for the sound of Seol’s cartoon.

Spider-Man zips across the screen in bright flashes of red and blue, his little voice chiming in every now and then.

But he doesn’t look at you.

Not once.

You thought maybe. just maybe he’d come over.

You baked. You apologized. You tried.

And now you’re sitting here feeling like an extra.

Like someone on the outside of a picture-perfect family.

You sip your coffee, throat tight.

Jungkook is across from you at the kitchen counter, leaning against it like he lives in a magazine.

His arms are crossed, tattoos on full display, the shirt hugging his chest in a way that’s way too intentional for a Saturday morning.

You try not to look.

But of course you do.

Because he’s beautiful. And soft in all the places you miss having. And strong in all the ways you don’t.

“Seol,” he calls softly. “Aren’t you gonna say thank you for the cookies?”

The little boy turns, mouth full of juice pouch, and gives you the same small wave from earlier. “Thank you, Ms. Yn.

“Yn,” Jungkook corrects, voice smooth. “She’s not at school.”

You blink.

Seol repeats, “Thank you, Yn.”

You smile, aching. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

But the ache doesn’t go away.

He turns back to the TV, curling deeper into his blanket. Like that’s all he needs. A cartoon. A blanket. His dad.

You watch the scene in front of you and feel something raw bubble in your chest.

This is what you wanted.

This is what you used to have. Before it was taken.

Before it was crushed.

You blink fast. Sip your coffee again. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

“You alright?” Jungkook asks.

You nod. “Yeah.”

He tilts his head, a little smile playing on his lips.

“You don’t look alright.”

He moves closer.

Stands behind the couch. Behind you.

You feel the warmth of him. The weight of his gaze. The quiet power in the way he doesn’t speak unless he wantssomething.

“I just haven’t been sleeping,” you say.

“You should,” he murmurs. “You look like you need rest.”

You let out a soft laugh. “Thanks.”

“No, I mean it.”

He walks around the couch now. Closer. You feel the heat of him as he leans against the armrest near you.

“I think you need to let yourself be taken care of for once.”

You look up.

His eyes are so dark. So steady.

“You’re always taking care of other people. Of kids. Of their parents. Who takes care of you?”

The words drop into your chest like heavy stones.

“I’m fine,” you say. Too quick.

He doesn’t reply. Just sips his coffee, slow. His jaw tightens with every swallow.

And for some reason, watching him do something so simpleit wrecks you.

You wonder what it would feel like to sit like this every morning.

In silence. With coffee. With someone beside you.

Not alone in your apartment, holding your own body through another long night.

“You don’t have to pretend,” he says, voice low. “I see through it.”

You glance at him.

He’s watching Seol. But his words are for you.

“You’re lonely.”

You freeze.

“You don’t need to say it,” he adds. “It’s just written all over you.”

Your breath hitches.

You open your mouth. Close it.

The silence between you hums.

He doesn’t touch you. Doesn’t move. Just sits there.

Radiating heat.

Smelling like woodsy cologne and dryer sheets and safety.

But the kind that’s too close to danger. Too close to falling.

“You can stay for lunch,” he says.

Not a question.

Just a line. A trap.

And something in you… something soft and broken wants to walk right into it.

[saturnbellfromhell]

RANDOM ASTRO OBSERVATIONS

Welcome back! I hope you relished my roasting series as much as I did. I can’t wait to create another one and laugh all over again. But for now, we’re returning to the heart of my account—my favorite kind of post. I love observing the people around me and capturing the psychological traits they all seem to share. I'm excited to see all of your feedback and hope you enjoy reading this post as much as I loved creating it! So let's begin, shall we...

▫️CAPRICORN SUN

I believe the perfect match for a Capricorn is an incredible Scorpio. Both signs carry a certain darkness and mystery, each in their own unique way. They share a sharp edge, a love for a little cynicism, and a reputation for being pessimistic—when in reality, they’re just deeply realistic. They both understand the isolating feeling of being surrounded by people yet still feeling alone. They’re keenly aware of how time can crawl and race all at once. More than anything, they need a partner who will stand by them unwaveringly—someone who would go to the ends of the earth for them.

They have a deep love for all animals, but while they may get along well with dogs, I believe Capricorns are naturally more drawn to cats. They appreciate the quiet companionship of a solitary, independent creature rather than one that is constantly energetic and demanding. A cat’s reserved yet loyal nature aligns perfectly with a Capricorn’s own sense of self.

Capricorns may sometimes be seen as boring—after all, they prioritize stability and practicality—but beneath that exterior lies a wise, spiritual, and introspective soul. They crave meaningful connections, thoughtful conversations, and depth that go beyond surface-level interactions. Shallow exchanges bore them; they seek substance, authenticity, and a bond that truly resonates.

▫️AQUARIUS SUN

Another Saturn-ruled sign, but this time with a more high-spirited and free-spirited nature than our dear Capricorn. What I find so amusing is that every Aquarius I know seems almost indifferent to their own birthday—not in a sad or melancholic way, but with a casual, “Oh, thanks, I guess” kind of attitude. It’s as if they view celebrations of themselves as unnecessary, yet they’ll happily go all out for others.

Aquarius and Capricorn have an undeniable pull toward each other. Capricorns admire Aquarius’s visionary mind, while Aquarius respects Capricorn’s quiet strength and determination. Though they approach life differently, they both share a deep sense of independence and an appreciation for intellect, making their bond very close.

▫️MOON IN 12th HOUSE

There’s so much to unpack in this observation. Highly psychic, intuitive, and almost otherworldly, they navigate the unseen realm as if it were their personal gateway to deeper self-awareness. They don’t just sense energy—they absorb it, making them incredibly empathetic yet easily drained by those who feel too "normal" or disconnected from the deeper layers of existence. Their intuition is sharp; they can read a room and spot a bad vibe from miles away. It’s less of a skill and more of a knowing.

Life for them rarely feels steady—there’s always another transformation, another shift, making a "normal" week or year feel almost impossible.

With the Moon in the 12th house, isolation isn’t just a preference—it becomes a necessary refuge, a way to process the overwhelming energies they absorb. It’s not just about wanting to be alone; it’s about needing to retreat to protect their own spirit. However, their biggest lesson is learning when to disconnect—stepping away before they become completely drained. If they fall into the trap of constant people-pleasing, they risk deeper isolation and, eventually, emotional exhaustion. To truly thrive, they must prioritize their own energy just as much as they do for others.

They are the empaths of society, the caregivers, the spiritual teachers, the mothers, the fathers, and much more. They are all of the above wrapped up. They have lived and outlived many lives before choosing this one. Always on a journey to complete an invisible mission.

▫️CANCER MOON

Often looked down upon for their love of solitude, these individuals are actually some of the most comforting souls to exist. They don’t ask for much—just a cozy room, dim lighting, and a lover by their side. You can already picture the kind of person they are: someone who finds joy in life’s simplest pleasures. They appreciate good food, tend to be naturally sleepy, and have a soft spot for people who are often misunderstood by others.

They’re always eager to help when needed, but when overstimulated, their mood shifts quickly—becoming grumpy, distant, or even off-putting. And when deeply hurt, they may resort to manipulation or cunning behavior. Angels become devils quickly if not attended to correctly.

▫️NEPTUNE IN THE 11th HOUSE

Neptune, the planet that embodies Piscean energy, isn’t concerned with reality. Instead, it drifts into dreams and the abyss. In your birth chart, Neptune reveals the areas where clarity can become clouded over time, where rose-colored glasses are often worn, distorting one’s perception. When Neptune resides in the 11th house, the realm of groups and friendships, it can make it difficult to see situations clearly, especially when it comes to choosing friends.

Those with this placement often find themselves losing friends, trusting too easily, or losing their sense of self in their relationships. They tend to see the best in others, which can lead to heartbreak when they realize too late that their trust was misplaced. What’s right in front of them can go unnoticed, and by the time the truth reveals itself, it’s often already too late. Keep a steady eye when having this placemnet. Sometimes, your biggest enemy is sitting right next to you.

▫️LIBRA SUN

Libras can be seen as the “popular girl” who effortlessly draws attention without needing to try too hard, unlike a Leo who thrives on being the center of the spotlight. They naturally shine, but they don’t need to vocalize or flaunt it—there's a quiet confidence to them. Their need to always appear at their best can sometimes come off as superficial or a bit fake, creating a sense of distance. However, what many overlook about Libra is the deeper, darker energy they carry beneath the surface—something that often remains hidden.

What you see with a Libra is typically what you get—99% of the time. They rarely let anyone see the depths of who they truly are. While their gorgeous exterior and enthusiastic demeanor attract many, most people don’t stick around long enough to see past the façade. Though they draw the interest of signs like Scorpio, Cancer, and Capricorn, these connections often fall short of the emotional depth and loyalty they seek.

Capricorns, for instance, are always a bit wary and never fully trust a Libra. There’s something about them that just doesn’t sit right, though they can’t quite pinpoint it. Cancers, on the other hand, may feel neglected and unappreciated, often leaving when they sense their efforts to care for Libra aren’t reciprocated. Scorpios, despite their initial attraction, get frustrated with Libra’s seemingly indifferent attitude—an attitude that, deep down, they know is a mask for vulnerability and insecurity. Though all three signs can sense the hidden layers, they often end up walking away when they realize they’re not getting the emotional connection they hoped for.

▫️MOON IN THE 8th HOUSE

Moon in the 8th house holds immense power, one that can be both a gift and a challenge. People with this placement have the potential to undergo profound transformations, constantly evolving and reshaping themselves. However, these transformations are rarely easy. They often come through deep emotional upheaval, and navigating these intense shifts can be draining and difficult.

The 8th house Moon individuals are deeply connected to the unseen and unconscious realms, making them highly sensitive to emotions, often to the point of becoming overwhelmed. If they don't learn to channel their emotional depth constructively, they can become disconnected from their true selves and find it hard to navigate their inner world.

Because they feel so much and often don’t have the tools or outlets to process these intense emotions, they can fall into coping mechanisms like substance abuse as a way to numb the emotional overload. This is especially true if the individual’s emotional needs are neglected, and the heavy energy of transformation becomes too much to bear. Without support, people with this placement can become trapped in their own emotional cycles.

However, when these individuals do unlock the potential of their Moon in the 8th house, they have an incredible ability to heal themselves and others. Their emotional depth can lead to profound self-awareness, transformation, and even a powerful ability to guide others through their own emotional challenges. The key is self-acceptance and learning how to process those intense emotions in healthy ways, avoiding the temptation to numb them.

As always, thank you for being here. Sending lots of love!

xoxo NK❤️

[fishnapple]

How they act towards you vs towards other people

(lover/partner/future spouse)

The lighting was bad so I didn't include the pictures of crystals for each group.

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost

Book a reading with me - KO-FI (→ personal reading)

1. Labradorite

How they act towards you The energy: Black egg

They will be their most truthful self when they are with you. They will always speak the truth or try to. It could be unfiltered, they may even be more blunt with you than with other people. What they don't feel comfortable sharing with others, they will be comfortable sharing with you. You will be the one to witness the most authentic version of them.

They will try to be a dependable person that you can lean on, wanting to be your pillar of strength. They also want you to be the best version of yourself. But the way they do it can be a little heavy-handed. They have the tendency to say things that can get on your nerves, if you are someone who doesn't have the thickest skin, you would find their words sometimes hurting or too raw, too blunt, too sharp, they will touch your most vulnerable part, your foundation. In the process, you may be hurt and want to lash out at them but if you become more aware of yourself and try to look at things from a positive viewpoint then you will come out stronger than ever, no one will be able to shake your foundation. In a way, they help you destroy the untrue and unstable and then help you build up the true and enduring.

On a lighter note, they will act more silly with you, saying ridiculous things that they normally wouldn't say to other people, just to make you laugh. It will be odd, clumsy, but endearing, you will find your stomach constantly hurting from laughing.

They will probably give you many surprising gifts that show their care and thoughtfulness. It could even be a handmade gift. The one that you can keep for many years to come, the one that will be the symbol of their devotion to you that can always bring you comfort whenever you look at it.

At times, they could fall under a melancholy spell, unsure of themselves and their worth in the relationship. You will find them being a little jittery, hiding themselves away from you. They may need some alone time to realign themselves. Just give them the time and space they need and always be honest with them.

How they act towards other people The energy: Sea serpent

They are a lot less demanding of other people than with you. They will hide their thoughts and intentions a lot, prefer to keep them to themselves. They may have been betrayed in the past, so it made them wary and distrustful towards other people. They will have their guard up most of the time.

Unlike their tendency to doubt themselves when being with you, to other people, they will present a very confident and vibrant self. Their public image could be quite eccentric, the one who always stands out from the crowd. But they have a very empathetic aura that people find very comforting. People would easily open up to them, even when your person doesn't have much in common with that person.

They will act like a teacher to other people, always ready to give advice and guidance. They will be generous and helpful, dedicated, and dependable. They will try to be the safe space for other people, no idea is too unrealistic, no thought is too wishful, no belief is too strange, they will help others be more comfortable and open to more new ideas. A gentle teacher.

But your person will hide a lot of things from other people. They may sometimes appear as a people-pleaser, wanting to avoid conflict. If they are angry or not pleased with the other person, they won't show it directly, could even be a little passive aggressive.

2. Citrine

How they act towards you The energy: Dragonfly

They will talk a lot with you. Sharing every thought and random inspiration with you. They may have a fear of miscommunication, not many people understand them, and their way of communicating may not be very clear. But with you, I think you guys will have similar communicating style that allows them to be more comfortable in sharing their chaotic thoughts. They feel energised by talking with you. Not just talking but listening too, they want to be both the student and the teacher. Mental connection will be their focus. They don't want to have any misunderstanding between you guys.

They will act less restrained while having you by their side. When you go somewhere public, they will be more brave and show themselves more, unapologetically. They will be more sociable, more open to strangers and new acquaintances. You help expand their social circle. But that doesn't mean they will forget about you and go mingling with other people. They will still keep themselves close to you.

They definitely will act more loving and gentler with you than other people. Sometimes, it can be childish, wanting to be spoiled and babied by you.

At the same time, their intensity will be visible to you but not intimidating. It will show the focus on being happy and trust in each other. They are fiercely protective of the relationship with you and will try to stay clear-headed to maneuver any hardship that you may encounter.

For some reason, I get a sense that they will try too hard to present a perfect partner image and hide some parts that they deem not favourable, such as their more messy emotions, their fantasies, their true desires. In a sense, a part of them will stay detached from the relationship, they don't go all in, despite their unrestrained way of sharing their thoughts with you, some of their deeper thoughts will still stay hidden. This could be a problem later on because they can't keep the perfect image forever, and they don't want to disappoint you. You will have to be pretty intuitive in your approach, if you can sense that they are hiding something, instead of confronting them, you could gently point to that direction and share your thought and experience related to it, try to send the message that you won't judge them, that you can see their truer self and can still love them for it.

How they act towards other people The energy: Firefly

As I was saying in the previous section, your person can be very confusing in communicating with other people. Either they don't really say what they're thinking or their words are ambiguous and misleading. Subconsciously, they could have a desire to mislead and confuse others. They don't feel comfortable sharing their true self, it feels too vulnerable and disorientating.

They are intensely private yet appear as very open and a social butterfly. They excel at superficial interactions, arousing interest in the other person, but only for a fleeting moment, turn around and they will be gone. They could be very popular, especially on the internet, social media. They have this enigmatic and charming presence that others find irresistible yet unreachable. They can share their cool new ideas, some wacky pose or random stuffs about their life that intrigue other people, but even if you scroll through all their contents, you won't be able to tell a definite tale about who they are.

With other people, they will joke a lot and not acting serious, they can appear as superficial and childish, or childlike, a fun entertainer.

Whatever unpleasantness that they feel, they will shove it down their subconscious, not willing to face and acknowledge it. This can lead to the feeling of dissatisfaction and resentment that they don't even know exactly where they come from. Another thing is that they will act 'pure' in front of other people, hiding their more aggressive side. People may view them as cute, innocent, pure, and all kind of that perception and won't be able to associate aggression and sexuality with your person. People may treat them like an eternal child, and the thing is, your person doesn't object to that perception. In some way, it helps in protecting themselves.

3. Agate

How they act towards you The energy: Eagle

They will act all clingy with you, physically and emotionally, they want to be close to you all the time, you may even sometimes find it suffocating and want to push them away a little. They seem to be a pretty confident and straightforward person that they don't have any problem showing their more needier side to you. They are probably the kind of person that when they find a song they love, they will abuse the repeat button countless times and many years later, that song will still be their favourite.

They will want to constantly in contact with you, asking what you're doing, where you are, do you need or want anything, they could even drop their work and other schedules to be with you. If you show some detachment towards them, they will definitely notice and confront you about it or will just pout openly. I don't know how you will feel about all this, but they sure are not leaving any space between you guys. They have a tendency to involve themselves in their partner's life a little too much. You will need to remind them again and again so that they don't lose themselves in the relationship.

They will be openly displaying their affection towards you in public. They like the idea of people knowing you guys are together, it makes them proud and giddy. Nothing obnoxious, of course, they will be pretty restrained but still show enough.

They will want to take you on sudden trips, preparing surprises for you on no particular occasion. Knowing your favourite music, food, your idea of dream date, then plan the most romantic date for you.

Their romance mode will be full on.

How they act towards other people The energy: Eagle

This person is very consistent in their energy, whether with their lover or other people, they show the same strong and radiant energy of the Eagle.

With other people, though, they won't show their vulnerable and needy side. There's still that intensity and care towards the other person, but they will be more confrontational and direct in their approach. They will talk a lot, sometimes not letting the other person have a word in, could be quarrelsome, but only when they are provoked, they're not preachy or controlling. People can still feel a certain softness in them. It's not harsh, and their words have a certain genius to them that some could even find it sexy. Their energy feels very alpha and dominant.

They care a lot about how they come across to others, their public image. They will always try to be their most presentable self in front of people. No curse words, no uncivilised actions, fussy, charming (when they are not in quarrel mode), prim and proper.

They have some hobbies that they can share with their close friends. They like to have fun and play games, joking around, being unintentionally flirty.

Others could say that they are a home-body or not going out much (probably busy being with you). If not at home, then they will be busy travelling somewhere. Their whereabouts can be pretty mysterious.

They have a certain spiritual belief that they keep to themselves, even with you, they won't disclose it fully, and not disclosing it at all with other people. It may not be anything big or mind shattering. They just don't want to voice it out, it's the part of them that want to keep private.

4. Amazonite

How they act towards you The energy: Beaver

Love for this person is a serious commitment that they won't take lightly. Once they've committed to you, they will put in their effort to keep the relationship healthy and strong. They will view it as a project. They will put their heart at the centre of every action they take towards you.

They will act responsible towards you. Be a dependable and steady partner for you. If any problem or conflict would ever arise, they will roll up their sleeves and find the solution for it. Their love language is act of service. If anything, be it a small inconvenience such as you forgetting your umbrella on a rainy day, to a bigger problem such as distance between you guy's living places, they will try to do it for you, to erase the inconvenience or the problem. They will approach everything with practicality.

They could act a little dry and too serious towards you sometimes, trying to emulate a literal rock. Because in their mind, you are the love of their life, so they have to act serious and responsible, this can also make them hide some of their traits that they deem childish. If it's you, then it's okay for you to act childish sometimes. They will assume the more mature role. But if it's them, then they cannot allow themselves to act like that. They will put some standards on themselves. You won't be starved of affection, their love will be a constant, comfortable flame that can warm you and help you make many things.

But in term of intimacy, they won't be restrained towards you. They will try to know your every wish and desire, from your own words to your facial expressions and from something left unsaid, they will know it all. You will find it uncanny how much they understand you. And how much they can put their effort to make your wish and desire come true.

With you, they will always try to be brave, to leave their fears at the door. Even when they see some obstacles in your future together, they won't give up, they will try to conquer them. They will probably talk a lot about your future together, it will sound romantic and dreamy and it will surprise you.

How they act towards other people The energy: Camel

This person has a lot of love to give, even with other people, they always put the harmony and balance in relationship to the centre. They are charming, not in the superficial or loud way, or even mystical or jubilant way. Their charm is quiet and steady. People can't help but be attracted to them.

They will be a dependable person that many will look up to. They could be in a higher position in their career. If they are a boss then they will be the caring and well-liked one, but are not too close with other people, there will be an appropriate distance.

They are pretty independent and resourceful, others come to them for help but they usually don't come to others. They would rather solve the problem on their own. They could overburden themselves with other people's problems, not to mention their own problems.

Some people may try to control or wanting to be more involved in your person's life, but they won't dare to, they will hesitate, because they can see that your person is just too independent and know full well their worth to be manipulated or controlled by someone else.

They will be guarded towards sharing their goals or future plans with other people. They know that the moment they share it, it will be affected by other's opinions and objections and will create unnecessary obstacles.

It's like somehow they don't want to receive the same kind of treatment that they give to other people. They can be caring and considerate, ready to help, but when it comes to themselves, they actually want to be left alone and don't want other's involvement.

5. Aventurine

How they act towards you The energy: Elephant

This person has some insecurities or some misunderstood perception when it comes to you. They don't feel too confident and sure of themselves when they are in your presence. It's like you hold up a mirror to them, making them aware of their shortcomings and imperfections.

They're not used to this, so they might want to over compensate by acting in a more aggressive, assertive, and confident, trying to exert dominance, trying to control the situation. But it will mainly be in petty matters, though.

I think you just view this kind of behaviour as childish. They will act a little like a spoiled brat, wanting to get their way, but in an endearing way? You will probably chuckle and indulge them.

They will pout a lot or give you silent treatment often. It will be frustrating. When they do talk, it can become a clash of egos. Maybe your communication styles are just different.

They just want their ego to be soothed a bit. They want to be acknowledged by you, to feel needed and praised for their effort. When they do get that, they will be very loving and accommodating, like a cat with hackles raised then turned docile when being petted properly.

How they act towards other people The energy: Earthworm

This person could be young? They don't seem to be too confident when around other people either.

They can act defensive and will try to appear more mature, in control of their life. But others can pick up on their insecurities. They can be shy in public. But they will put efforts into becoming more sure of themselves, learning to gain more knowledge and try to understand themselves better. Maybe they're surrounded by more mature and experienced people, so they feel the need to prove themselves.

They could be the nice guy/ nice girl that people feel that they can ask for more, demand more from your person, they will think that your person is easy-going. Some controlling or manipulative people could be involved too much in their life.

They get projected a lot on, it could be really tiresome. Coupled with their lack of assertiveness could result in them not being taken seriously. It's a big lesson for them to learn in this life, to assert themselves and be clear, to be more in their masculine energy, but not in the toxic way.

People could compliment their hands or their body a lot. It can feel like harassment sometimes. Physical appearance could be their insecurity and makes them more guarded towards people in general.

It probably the reason why you will be gentle and act with compassion when they try to be controlling or aggressive. Because you understand their struggle, and I think deep down, they're really grateful for that.

6. Flourite

How they act towards you The energy: Deer

I will be honest and say that they will act like a parent to you. In a nurturing and caring, protective way.

They will seem motherly to you, regardless of their gender. They will fuss about your daily routine, whether you've eaten enough, do you get enough rest, etc.

They may view you as someone they need to take care of, to gently guide you in life. They could be older or are used to taking care of other people, so they assume this role for themselves, perhaps? In some parts deep down inside them, the thought of helping you, protecting you will satisfy their wish to be a 'saviour', they want to have someone that they can commit to and even sacrifice a part of themselves to that person. They may have some Neptune, Jupiter and Saturn aspects in their chart.

They will be highly in tune with you. What you feel, they can subconsciously feel it too. Someday, you may not feel well in the body and you will see that they've become moody or tired without knowing why. They will share all your joy and sadness, truly mean it when they say that they're happy for you or they feel sad for you.

They could become a little paranoid and overly protective when you show signs of distress of emotional distance. They will want to know why, step in and take care of the cause, could be silently, secretly. Like a guardian, always a few steps behind you.

You will feel that all of their focus is put on you, it could feel unnerving, it could feel like being in a tight embrace.

How they act towards other people The energy: Moth

They are pretty detached towards other people. There's this indifferent air about them. It's not that they don't care, but they don't want to be too involved with the other person, they prefer to keep it light and polite.

They will be generous, though. If someone asks for help, they will probably help them as best as they could, and after that, they won't need any reward or praise from that person. It can feel quite clinical or cold to the other person.

They would like to talk and banter with people, light conversations, nothing too serious, could be gossiping. They have a belief that everyone should have their own path, if somehow their paths are connected, great, but if not, then no problem, just live and let live.

This detachment but friendly way of them could actually make them popular with the crowd. As long as people don't get too attached to them. Only a few people get to have a closer look inside your person's psyche.

People will be curious about them, what do they do for fun? What are they like when angered? what's their favourite food? To even more intrusive curiosity, like what are they like in bed? How much money do they have?

They will keep themselves as a mystery to other people, they can get curious all they want but your person won't care.

[sapphicandgraphic]

Crash

Summary: An accident pulls you and Melissa further into each other’s orbit.

Chapter: 2/4

By the time you got to the assembly hall, most of the staff had already gathered in fold-out chairs near the stage. A few heads turned as you trailed in behind Melissa, moving a little slower and more gingerly with each step. You sank gratefully into a seat that Gregory had saved you. Melissa stood nearby, one foot propped against the bleachers, arms folded across her chest.

“You good?” he asked in a low voice. “You’re pale…well, paler than usual.”

You gave him a mocking smile. “Gee, thanks.”

Melissa, overhearing the exchange, narrowed her eyes and carefully scrutinized your face. A light sheen of sweat had broken out on your forehead during the walk. Add it to the growing list of things she didn’t like about this whole situation.

“Had a little fender bender this morning,” you said. “Just shook me up a bit.”

He cast a doubtful glance toward the cut on your forehead. “Fender-bender?”

“She means attempted homicide,” Melissa said loudly.

Barbara turned to see what the commotion was all about. “Homicide? Good Lord! Are you all right, dear?”

Before you could answer, Ava came waltzing out to the podium and tapped the mic aggressively. “Is this thing on?”

There was a collective wince from the gathered teachers as feedback echoed loudly throughout the auditorium. She gave the crowd one of her dazzling, impish smiles and started reading out the litany of announcements for the upcoming quarter.

You shifted in your seat, trying to find a comfortable position. You could feel Melissa’s eyes on you, hawk-like, cataloguing every movement. By the time Ava wrapped things up about an hour later, your breathing was shallow, pain radiating throughout your entire body.

Some of the teachers began drifting off to their classrooms to finalize lessons plans and restock supplies. Melissa started toward you, but got pulled into a negotiation about timetables for library access with Mr. Hammond. You watched her cracking her knuckles, casting furtive glances in your direction. She was jittery, anxious, and itching for a fight. Hammond, known for condescending and long-winded diatribes, had picked the wrong day to go toe-to-toe with her. His fleshy, weak-chinned face wobbled with indignity as she laid into him.

Normally you would have wanted a ringside seat, but the noise in the cavernous room was making your head throb. You rolled your shoulders experimentally to see if you could relieve the building pressure.

“I’m going to grab some coffee,” Gregory said. “Want to sneak out?”

“Yes, please,” you replied instantly.

Gregory watched you struggle to your feet for a few seconds, finally taking pity on you and hooking an arm under your elbow.

“Fender-bender?” he repeated drily.

“Don’t start,” you groaned.

Together you slipped out of the auditorium and made your way down the hall, chit-chatting about politics and sports and weather. Gregory was always easy to talk to; you liked his mellow energy and calm presence.

Reaching the empty teacher’s lounge, you suddenly realized what was missing. “Hey, where’s Janine?”

“She had a doctor’s appointment this morning,” Gregory said, glancing at his wristwatch. “Should be here soon.”

He took two mugs from the cabinet, filled them with coffee, then fixed you with a pointed look. “You gonna tell me why Melissa looks ready to murder somebody?”

You scoffed, rubbing your temples. “She always looks like that.”

He inclined his head slightly, conceding your point.

Back in the assembly hall, the very subject of your discussion had just noticed your absence. As Hammond slunk off to lick his wounds, Melissa’s eyes flickered reflexively over to check on you and widened when she found your chair empty. She scanned the room, muttering a string of colorful curses under her breath. Barbara’s ears perked up, organically attuned to Melissa after so many years of working together.

“You’re tense this morning,” she observed. “What’s the matter?”

Melissa scrubbed a hand over her face. “She’s trying to put me in an early grave, Barb.”

The other woman nodded sympathetically. No need to ask who “she” was. There was only one person at Abbott Elementary who could drive Melissa this crazy.

Over the years, Barbara had had occasion to observe Melissa in several relationships. Most with men lacking in some combination of character, decency, romance, or tenderness—all qualities her friend keenly deserved, all qualities that you possessed. Yet when Barbara had dared to imagine a potential suitor that might come close to being good enough for Melissa Schemmenti, you were not remotely what she had envisioned. You were younger, for starters. And quiet. And not a Philadelphia native. Three strikes, or so she’d thought.

But then Barbara had noticed the way Melissa found excuses to appear in your office, the way you seemed to always end up on the playground during her class recess, the way you made each other laugh, the way your breath caught when she leaned against you, touched you. Most of all, Barbara noticed the way you looked at Melissa when you thought no one else could see you. To Barbara, it looked a little like love. She supposed the old saying was true—it really was the quiet ones you had to watch out for.

“I think I saw her slip out with Mr. Eddie,” she confided, feeling a surge of affection for Melissa as she stormed away and a twinge of concern for Gregory who had no idea he’d just entered the Schemmenti crosshairs.

In the staff lounge, Gregory slowly stirred his coffee with a small spoon, an infuriatingly patient expression on his face.

“Is that cup for me?” you asked eventually.

Turning on one heel, he reached across the counter for a protein bar. “It could be,” he observed. “If you tell me what’s going on.”

“That’s coercion.”

“Bribery,” he corrected, handing you the mug. “Technically, more of a quid pro quo arrangement.”

“Wow,” you said, taking a sip. “This tastes like whatever you pour on your yard when the weedkiller isn’t strong enough.”

“Mmm,” he agreed. “The notes of battery acid are particularly aggressive this morning.”

You braced yourself against the refrigerator, trying to find some relief from the deep ache that had settled in your sides, and finally gave Gregory what he wanted. As you quickly outlined everything (the truck, the aggressive cutoff, the swerve, the crunch of metal meeting pavement, the surreal glow of ambulance light) his eyes widened.

“Shit,” he said. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah,” you assured him. “It scared me, but I think it scared Melissa more. And it pissed her off. You know how she is.”

“Of course,” he said, giving you a significant look.

“Crazy,” you both said in unison, nodding.

“And she likes you,” he added.

You felt your cheeks pinken. “Yeah.”

He watched you over the rim of his mug, a smug smile spreading across his face. “Yeah,” he repeated.

“So anyway,” you said, plowing ahead. “Long story short—I have a couple cracked ribs and a gorgeous, deranged redhead vowing to avenge me.”

“Don’t forget the concussion,” he added. You stared at him blankly.

Gregory pointed at his own eyes. “Your pupils are like, hella dilated.”

Before you could respond, a small tornado-shaped woman came flying into the faculty lounge. First she rocketed into Gregory, squeezing him affectionately.

“Good morning, boyfriend!” Janine beamed, preparing to launch herself at you next. “And Happy New Year, treasured colleague!”

As you braced for impact, two things happened. Gregory reached out a hand to restrain Janine, and a furious voice from behind you bellowed, “Hands off the shrink!”

Janine paused mid-lunge. You all turned to see Melissa, arm outstretched and hair in a fiery mane around her shoulders. The look on her face was murderous.

“I gave ya one rule,” she seethed. “And ya broke it in an hour.”

Gregory set his coffee cup on the table diplomatically and placed a hand at the small of Janine’s back. “Ms. Teagues,” he announced, sounding overly formal even for him. “I need some help rearranging those desks in my classroom.”

“But what about —“ Janine objected, wide eyes bouncing back and forth between you and Melissa, a look of desperate curiosity on her face. Gregory just shook his head, guiding her out of the room. Rather than moving aside, Melissa roughly checked his shoulder with her own as he passed.

“You’re on my shit list,” she growled.

He massaged his shoulder. “Noted.”

Once they had disappeared, Melissa stalked over to where you stood leaning against the refrigerator. “You’re worse than my second graders. I turn my head for 5 minutes and you’re gone?”

“Maybe you should put me on a leash,” you said sweetly. Melissa’s lips parted slightly in an “oh” of surprise. For the second time in as many hours, you’d managed to put an absolutely mouth-watering thought into her head.

“Maybe I will,” she nodded, glassy eyes lingering on your throat. “Maybe that will help you learn to behave like a good girl.”

Now it was your turn to squirm in delicious agony as she threw your own words back in your face. She grinned at reclaiming the upper hand. Before she could press her advantage, however, Jacob wandered into the lounge.

“Oh there you are,” he said to Melissa, clearly relieved. “There’s a meeting happening in five minutes about computer…”

He trailed off, glancing between you. “Sorry, am I interrupting something?”

Melissa shook her head. “Not at all,” she said smoothly. “Just chatting with Dr. Freud here about her thoughts on discipline.”

Unfortunately, you had just taken a sip of coffee and your choked reaction gave way to a fit of coughing. Turning toward the kitchen counter, you leaned over the sink as eye-watering pain exploded around your ribs.

“Discipline?” Jacob frowned, oblivious to the innuendo. “Any students in particular?”

Melissa waved him off. “Just tell everyone I’ll be there in a minute.”

He bobbed his head in agreement and wandered back the way he had come. Melissa stepped forward and rubbed small circles on your back as you shuddered, tried to catch your breath. She murmured soothing words, a steady mantra of “It’s okay, you’re okay” over and over again, as if saying it enough times would make it true.

“Fuck,” you croaked when the coughing finally subsided. You wrapped one arm around your stomach and stood up stiffly. Melissa crowded you, running her hands along your back, your arms, as if to confirm firsthand that you were alright.

“I shouldn’t be teasing ya like that,” she said, a disquieted look on her face. “I dunno what’s wrong with me.”

“Pretty sure I started it,” you reminded her, a wave of exhaustion settling over you. You placed an arm around her shoulders, putting your weight on her. “Come on, Ms. Shemmenti. Walk me to my office.”

When she started to protest, you silenced her with a pointed look. “You can come right back when your meeting is over. I promise, this time I’ll be exactly where you left me.”

A few moments later, Melissa was depositing you on the sofa beside your desk. When she flicked on the overhead light, pain ricocheted around the inside of your head. You immediately covered your eyes. “Too bright,” you mumbled.

“You need painkillers,” she said, switching it back off and turning to rummage in a drawer.

You reclined a bit, resting your head on the cushion. “It’s a shame I left my horse tranquilizer at home,” you murmured. She snorted, grabbing a bottle of Tylenol.

Once she was satisfied you had everything you needed (laptop, glass of water, pillow) and that you’d taken something for the pain, she reluctantly backed out of the room with a promise to return soon. You waved her off.

“I’ll be right here, updating my student files.”

Melissa hummed, giving you one last hard look. Then she turned and stalked down the hallway.

Chapter 3

[navybrat817]

Teacher's Pet

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You role-play a bit with Bucky before a costume party. Word Count: Over 2.6k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal sex, dirty talk, role-play, inner monologue, established relationship, feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Fic #6 for Navy's Trick or Treat Nonsense! Not exactly a costume party with this Stud and Smartie poll winner, but close? @mumbles411, I think you'll appreciate it.❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Tonight was Tony's Halloween party and it was the perfect excuse to bring one of Bucky's fantasies to life. Months back, he told you about a particular role-play he wanted to try. You, shockingly, didn’t jump him then and there when you asked him to repeat himself, which he did. Right against the shell of your ear.

"I wanna fuck you while you wear a schoolgirl outfit."

Whatever you want, Stud.

You had to admit to yourself, that particular fantasy sounded like fun. You hadn’t thought about fucking any of your teachers before. Had Bucky actually been one of your professors, however, you would’ve been more than willing to cross a line. Who wouldn’t risk it all for him?

You inspected yourself in your mirror with a soft groan as you twirled. You reassured yourself after a moment that you looked good and Bucky would love your costume, if that's what you'd call it. The soft blue cardigan matched one of the shades in the short plaid skirt, which barely covered your ass. The white button-up exposed your midriff, along with the top of your bra, and the knee-high socks provided the finishing touch.

I look sultry, right? No, innocent. Both? Sulocent? Innotry?

With a deep breath, you pushed your door open and left your room to find him.

Oh, fuck.

You weren't sure if you said the words in your head or out loud as you spotted him standing beside the bookshelf in the living room. Everything went quiet in your mind as his gorgeous eyes met yours, but your heart almost raced out of your chest. Instead of his normal work or casual clothes, he had a tight sweater vest over a nice shirt and tie. The outfit made your massive boyfriend look even larger than normal somehow. He even wore a pair of fake glasses to complete his look.

“Well, look at you,” he said, the corner of his lip tugging in a smile as you bit your lip.

Yeah, look at me.

Something predatory in Bucky’s gaze surfaced as he dragged his eyes down the length of your body. You worried initially that the costume was cliche when there were so many others to choose from, but you felt sexy from the way he looked you over. You could’ve worn a hideous costume and he would’ve managed to find a way to compliment you. Tearing your gaze away to glance at the clock, you realized you had time to have some fun together before you had to leave for the party. At least, you hoped he wanted to fool around.

“Professor Barnes,” you breathed, hoping the next words out of your mouth wouldn’t sound ridiculous as you smoothed out your skirt. “Do you have a few minutes to discuss my paper? I want to make sure it’s perfect before I turn it in.”

You weren’t sure if he wanted to experience a bit of role-play before the party, but you wanted to give it to him if he did. The two of you did your best to please one another and it would be something for him to remember for days to come. You would, too.

And I can play it off if he decides he’s not into it, right?

He pushed himself away from the bookshelf to walk toward you, taking slow and deliberate steps as your breath hitched. “Do you normally violate the dress code when you want to discuss a paper? Not what I expect from my top student,” he said, making you swallow as he brushed a finger along one of the buttons on your top. “Or were you just trying to get my attention?”

“I’m going to a party,” you answered, smiling to yourself when he raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure I’ll catch someone’s eye.”

Bucky jaw clenched he stepped closer, forcing you to take a step back with wide eyes. “Is that right? Who said you’ll have time to go to this party?” he asked, backing you up until you were in your bedroom again. “If you really want your paper to be perfect, we’ll have to go through it line by line. That could take quite a bit of time.”

You tried to keep your breathing even as your eyes stayed on him, praying you appeared seductive as you walked backwards until your hips met your desk. “A bit of time? That could take all night, Professor,” you protested, lost in his gaze as he pushed a thigh between your legs.

“I’m counting on it,” he said, his voice quiet and deep as he braced a hand on each side of you. How was it possible for you to come undone when he hadn’t actually touched you? “You still want to be my top student, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do,” you answered as he leaned in, his breath fanning along your lips.

“Good girl,” he whispered, not kissing you just yet as you whimpered. Praise from Bucky always spread warmth through your core. “You do want to be my good girl, right?”

A shiver rolled down your spine when he brought his hands up to cup your face. It didn’t matter how he dressed or acted or what games you played. You knew in your heart this was your Bucky, your roommate, your everything. You were his as much as he was yours. So if he wanted you to be his good girl, you’d give him that.

“Yes, Professor,” you whispered.

His mouth hovered over yours before he kissed you, your mouth moving in perfect time with his. The scent of his cologne filled your nostrils when you inhaled, the touch and smell of him a sensual assault on your senses. The kiss was deep and thorough, a promise of what was to come. It made your head spin when his tongue brushed against yours, your hands flying up to his shoulders because you feared you’d collapse otherwise.

We really might not make it to the party.

“Turn around,” he ordered, his voice rough as he backed up enough for you to face your desk. Your body felt hot and needy, desperate as you fell into that familiar pit of need you often found yourself in with him. “And bend over.”

Blood warmed your cheeks as you bent over as instructed, your ass on display. Well, almost. You wore a pair of snug underwear that covered as much of you as possible. No doubt he saw the wet spot that formed and you didn’t have it in yourself to feel embarrassed with how turned on you were.

“I don’t even have to look at your pussy to know how pretty it is,” he said, flipping your skirt up a bit more. “Bet it’ll look even prettier when it’s taking my cock.”

Please, please, please.

“I thought we were going to discuss my paper,” you said, peering over your shoulder.

“We’ll get to that, but I think we should take care of each other first,” he said, making you clench around nothing as he touched your covered slit. “Or was it your goal to make me hard in my pants and go along your way?”

“No, Professor. I wouldn’t tease you,” you promised, your teeth digging into your bottom lip as he slid your underwear down to your ankles.

“Of course not because you’re my good girl,” he said, your thighs trembling as he pushed them further apart. “My brilliant, sexy, good girl.”

Your head nearly collapsed against the desk, your eyes squeezing shut. Why did his praise make you feel hot and want to cry at the same time? “I…”

Bucky’s hands froze on your thighs when you sniffled, immediately leaning over you and touching your cheek. “Are you okay? Check in, Smartie. Please,” he said softly.

As if you needed more reasons to love Bucky, the fact that he stopped to make sure you were okay meant the world. “Green, Stud. Very much green. I'm okay. I’m sorry,” you replied after taking a breath, your heart nearly beating out of control. “ The praise just hit me all the sudden. And I just love you so much.”

And here you were trying to do something sexy and fun for him and you ruined the moments with your emotions. The erection in his pants probably faded as soon as you sniffled. Maybe the two of you could leave for the party and try again later.

He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple where you felt him smile. “First, you don’t need to apologize for getting emotional. Second, I love you, too. So much. And third, we'll only keep going if you want to.”

Your eyes shut, the urge to cry both surfacing again and subsiding at his words. “I didn’t ruin the moment, did I?” you asked in a tiny voice.

“You’d never ruin the moment,” he replied, his lips touching your temple once more as you sighed. “Trust me.”

It was comforting that you could talk to Bucky about what was going on in your head or heart, whether you elaborated or kept it short. Which was why you felt confident again when you opened your eyes and glanced back at him, seeing only love, desire, and something soft in his stare. “In that case, I want you to fuck me bare, Professor.”

Bucky groaned, his soft hair tickling your neck, before he leaned up. He kept a hand on your back like he knew you needed his touch, his other hand quickly working to open his pants. “You think I’ll go easy on you just because you’re at the top of my class?” he asked, easily slipping back into his role. “You think you’ve earned my cock?”

“I can take whatever you give me. And I’ve earned it. I’m your good girl, remember?” you said, your nipples aching through your clothes as he pressed you further into the desk. Fiery shocks and heat went through your body as his finger teased your clit. “Please.”

You whimpered as he moved the digit to your folds, spreading the growing moisture around with a hum. He teased your hole, but didn’t push inside. The slow torture made you quiver and you wondered just how much more begging you had to do.

“Really is a pretty pussy for me to ruin,” he said, finally pushing in with little resistance. Your eyelids fluttered as he slid in and out, but you needed more. “Maybe I should let you go to that party. Send you in there dripping with my seed and show those boys who you belong to.”

“Please, ruin me,” you begged when he pulled his finger out, looking over your shoulder again. He was going to fuck you with the glasses on and the thought had your body going up in flames. Almost as much as the fact that he was stroking his hard cock to the sight of you. “Make me yours, Professor.”

“You’re already mine, baby,” he told you as he lined himself up. “But if I need to come inside you to prove it, so be it.”

You cried out as he thrust into you, the stretch intense and the force hard enough that you had to grip the desk to hold on. Waves of sensations threatened to explode through you at the deep slide of his cock, your body more worked up than you initially thought. You crushed your chest against the hard surface beneath you and you moaned as he pushed in more. There was no doubt in your mind that he was in control.

And you loved every second of it.

“Fuck, I needed this,” he groaned, his hand mapping along your back as you melted under his tender touch. “Should make you ride me wearing this. Put your hands behind your back with my tie.”

His mouth was on your neck in an instant when you moaned, licking and lightly sucking as his hips rocked against yours. The image of you in his lap filled your mind, your hands bound as he helped you bounce up and down on his cock. There would be plenty of time for that later. For now, he was practically pounding you into your desk and you wondered why you hadn’t worn an outfit like this for him sooner.

“Should keep you under my desk,” he went on, feeling his weight press you down more as he thrust. “Such a smart mouth in class, I know you can use it to keep me warm.”

“Fuck, please,” you begged, trying to push your hips back. He drove harder and deeper, your wet walls on the verge of quivering with bliss. “Please, Professor.”

He chuckled low in your ear, your eyelids fluttering again as you mewled. Your building orgasm threatened to rip through you and you barely registered that you begged for him again. “Already close, aren’t you? And I thought you were a good girl,” he said, his breath hot as he sped up his thrusts. “But bad girls let their professors fuck them bare, don’t they?”

“Y-Yes,” you whined, your eyes starting to roll back when he angled his hips to hit that glorious spot inside you. “Oh- There. There! Please!”

“My good and bad girl,” he grunted, moving faster as you arched your back, needing desperately to come.

“Want you to come in me,” you blurted out, teetering on the edge. Just a bit more and you’d fall. You needed it.

“I’ll come in you when you come for me,” he urged, smiling when he said the words that made you come undone. “You can do it, baby. Make me proud.”

The cry you let out was a decibel you didn’t think you were capable of reaching when you came, succumbing to pleasure as you shivered beneath him. He let out an impressive string of swears as you quivered around him, chasing his end as ecstasy flowed through you. A few more thrusts and he was gone, painting your walls with a growl before he rested his head on the back of your neck, both of you trying to steady your breathing.

You made a sound of protest as he pulled out of you, both because you didn’t want him to leave your body and you didn’t want his release spilling all over the floor. As if he sensed the latter, he pulled your underwear back up your legs. “Hey. I’m here,” he said, carefully guiding you to the bed so you could cuddle together. You were thankful he moved you since you didn’t have the strength to move yourself.

Fuck the party. I can’t walk.

“So,” he said after a minute, letting out a deep breath as he rubbed your back. “You earned an A.”

You giggled when he smiled, the sight making your heart speed up again. “Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah,” he sighed, a dreamy look in his eyes. You were glad he was satisfied. “Thank you for indulging me.”

“Don’t thank me. It was fun for both of us,” you said, tracing a heart on his chest. “The glasses really are a nice touch. You should wear them again.”

“Yeah? You like how I look in these?” he asked, adjusting them on his nose.

“I do. You’re always handsome,” you said, his blue eyes crinkling behind the lenses.

“I like looking good for you,” he said, tilting your chin to give you a soft kiss. “And I’m fucking you at the party.”

Oh, Stud. You know how to make a girl feel special.

“You better,” you said, burrowing yourself closer. “But I need a minute before I try to move, Stud.”

“Whatever you want, Smartie,” he whispered, linking your fingers together as he took your hand. “Whatever you want.”

These two will always have a special place in my heart. Love and thanks for reading! 🧡

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[maybe-a-bi-witch]

You're my Best Friend (nanami kento x reader)

A longer fic version of this

Best friends to lovers with Nanami Kento. Fluff, a little tiny bit of angst but a Happy ending. Mild spoilers. Set in the early 2000s. I was thinking about what to call this and became inspired by the song "You are in love" by Taylor Swift

a/n: this is my first fic like this, i hope you guys like it. Feedback is super appreciated <3

"You're a…what?", you say in disbelief, trying to figure out if your normally level headed best friend has officially gone insane.

"A sorcerer", Kento says slowly, as if he hasn't fully accepted it either. "In the world, there's cursed energy and some people, sorcerers, are capable of using it. Usually to fight curses." 

Your mouth hangs agape as you wonder if this is some prank he's playing on you. But Kento has never lied to you before. (although he's never claimed monsters and sorcerers were real either.)

"I believe you", you say finally, to Kento's relief, "I mean this sounds completely insane but I trust you."

He finally cracks a small smile before frowning as he remembers something. "That's not all"

"What? Don't tell me aliens are real too"

"They want me to go to a school that trains sorcerers" he swallows before continuing, "in Tokyo"

You feel your heart stop as you realise that means you'll hardly see him anymore. Ever since preschool, the one constant in your life has been Nanami Kento. Sitting in class, eating lunch, walking home, no matter what you did or where you were, he was always by your side. 

You can't pinpoint the exact moment you fell in love with him, you just remember waking up one day and knowing. Maybe it was when he would ask the teachers questions for you in preschool, or in elementary school when he tried to bake you a cake by himself for your birthday. It might have been when he started reading all your favourite books so he could talk about them with you or when he spent half an hour trying to win you a teddy bear at an arcade. You may not know when you fell in love with him but you do know that loving Nanami Kento came as naturally as breathing.

"Promise you'll come back to visit", you say, trying to offer a smile. He nods, swearing that he'll never break a promise to you.

Nanami Kento remembers the exact moment he fell in love with you. It was fourth grade and your tenth birthday was coming up. He spent days looking up recipes and baking tutorials so that he could bake you the perfect cake. He spent hours on it. By the time he finished, his mom joked that there was more flour on him than in the cake but it was worth it to see the look on your face when he sowed it to you. The cake didn’t turn out great, the layers were uneven, the frosting was grainy and the entire thing was lopsided. When you saw it, you immediately started tearing up. At first he started apologising because he thought it was so bad that it made you cry. But then you threw your arms around his shoulders smiling widely and told him that nobody had ever done something so nice for you before. From that moment he knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life making you smile like that. 

“- and  I put some of the new Fall Out Boy songs on the playlist too. The new album isn’t their best but”, you stop as you see a strange look on his face. “What’s wrong Ken?” 

“Nothing’s wrong it’s just,” he pauses then says, “You’re my best friend”

“The cheesecake was good but I think next time I want to try the brownie”, you say, shivering as you step outside the new bakery Kento brought you to. “I told you to bring a jacket, " he says, frowning while he takes off his sweater to give you. 

“I didn’t think it would be this cold!” you say trying to defend yourself as you tell him to keep his sweater on so he doesn’t freeze. “I’m not feeling that cold anyway”, he says as he forces the soft material into your hands. 

You put it on, closing your eyes as you feel the warm embrace of the fabric. “It smells like you”, you say before clarifying, “in a good way, I mean.” He just laughs and shakes his head before walking you back home. 

He laughs the same way years later, when you reveal that you slept in the sweater for a week, only stopping once it didn’t smell like him anymore. 

“Kento I know you’re in there!”, you shout, knocking on his bedroom door. “Your mom told me you were home.” He opens the door with a sigh before looking down at you and asking what you were doing here. As he gazes at you, you notice the deep eyebags that weren't there before, and a hardness in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. 

“I’m here because my best friend disappeared! Because you haven’t responded to my texts, or IMs or emails for weeks and I needed to know that you were okay”

“Well you can see that I’m fine. Thank you for checking on me, but you can go now.”

“Fine? Really” , you scoff, pushing your way into the dark room. “You won’t talk to me, your parents told me that you barely say a word to them and you clearly haven’t been sleeping! I want to help you Ken. I want to be there for you but you keep pushing me away.” Your voice softens before you continue, “I know you and Haibara were really close. I can’t imagine how you must be feeling right now”

“Exactly, you don’t know how I’m feeling right now and I hope that you never do”, he yells , “I’ve seen what this life can do to people, I’ve seen the toll it takes on the people left behind. I could die at any moment while on a mission, and I don’t want you to have to feel that kind of loss! I love you too much to put you through that! It’s better this way.” 

“Better for who Kento? Because I’m already miserable without you and you don’t seem to be doing much better! I know that being a sorcerer is dangerous and that something could happen to you. But isn’t it better to have loved and lost than to live life alone, because you’re worried about what might happen?”, you feel tears welling in your eyes before you continue, “I’m in love with you Kento and I don’t care how risky your life is. I’m willing to face any amount of pain if it means keeping you in my life. I would rather have you, and risk losing you, than not have you and lose you anyway.”

Kento feels his world stop spinning as soon as the words ‘I’m in love with you’ spill out of your lips. His mouth hangs open as he tries to figure out what to say. The only words that he manages to get out are, “Can I kiss you” as he leans closer. You nod slowly as you move towards him. 

You can feel his breath tickle your face before his lips finally descend to capture yours. Something warm grows in his chest, like the first flowers of spring blooming after a long winter. The entire world around him disappears as he feels your soft lips dancing against his own. His hands move gently to cup your face as he deepens the kiss. You snake your arms around his waist, feeling the soft caress of his hands on your cheeks. Feelings left unsaid for years come bubbling up and overflows.

When you two finally break apart to breathe, you notice a familiar look in his eyes. And this time, you knew what it was. 

He is in love

a/n: I'm not a huge fan of the title banner i made but lmk what you guys think.

tag list: @jasminelee324

[lvmimis]

cw: spoilers. after timeskip. selfship-coded. reader has a defined quirk. hurt/comfort.

As strong as the bond between any high school class can be (even yours, arguably more a small superpowered militia than a group of hopeful freshmen in far over their heads and strong enough to make it through the other end anyway), paths diverge as people follow their dreams, even if they will all forever call UA their home. 

It’s fitting that Izuku Midoriya, indisputably the most affected by the trauma of the meta war has kept UA as home base, and settling into his new career as teacher has remained both expected and fulfilling, even if poorly introspective onlookers would think otherwise. He is the heart of what it means to be a hero and that is to inspire the present and the future, and carry on the lessons of the past.

He is also your heart, you muse, as you find him sitting at your kitchen table, poring over graded essays, the red ink from his excessively lengthy corrections and comments practically jumping off the paper it’s scribbled on. You set down your work bag and attempt to sneak up behind him, but even if he’s focused and still, he’s always sharp, setting his pen down to turn around and greet you with a kiss.

“Hey, you’re later than usual, so I just let myself in, is that okay?” he asks. You nod, moving over to wash your hands in the sink quickly, then coming back around to pull a chair next to him. 

You’ve wanted to ask him to just move in together for months now, especially since now you spend more time at each other’s places than you do your own separate ones, but something about the proposition has felt wrong, rushed maybe. It’s been just a little over a year since you moved back to Japan after your fellowship overseas, and while you’ve remained in a varying level of contact the whole time since graduation, the flux of things has changed significantly instead of settling normally. For one, confessing an unrelenting affection that was kept mostly secret since high school had changed the trajectory of your lives, finding ways to incorporate seeing each other without fanfare between your busy post-grad education and his UA courses, then finally a year of long distance had made it difficult to ever feel like things had been truly steady.

“I wouldn’t have given you a code or key if not, silly,” you remind him. He smiles, and you glance over at the last assignment he’s corrected, and grimace. 

“You know if Aizawa had given me this many comments on an essay, I wouldn’t have shown up the next day, Izuku,” you remind him. He laughs, as you take the paper and read his feedback, mind spinning.

“I mean, no kid’s ever cried yet. I try to be nice.”

He is nice, you think, realizing that not a single word in the practical novel he’s scribbled in the margins of the brief constructed response can be misconstrued as disappointed or demanding. 

In fact, you would have cried tears of joy reading this. 

“How was the clinic?” he asks over the turn of another page.

“The most darling kid who didn’t have a Quirk manifest yet at age 5 showed up with worried parents with too much money on their hands.” You twist your mouth to the side. 

Izuku doesn’t look up as he says, “Oh, that’s too bad.”

There’s a pang of discomfort in your chest for a split second, but he doesn’t say anything else, scribbling a series of checkmarks and x’s, the quick scritch of his pen a little louder and resounding.

Izuku was meant to be Quirkless and is happy being Quirkless yet again, his mission fulfilled and the world better for it - even if sometimes only marginally so - but you know he yearns for the ability to be back on the field, with the same restlessness All Might once recounted feeling once he’d retired to teach as well. It’s evident in the way Izuku stays up a little too late reading/watching the news at every level, and how much of his free time he coordinates to a similarly intense training program at the crack of dawn, and the fact that even now he bristles at the implication of Quirklessness as a disability.

Everyone can be a hero. He was the greatest of them all - is, in fact, and not just your personal one, but his own personal world has shrunk. Documentaries, videos, people’s memories will not change that the fact that he’s far bigger than the quiet life he lives.

Now he’s relegated to cheering his friends on, day in and day out, and preparing a path for the youth to surpass him, something he is willing to do, but you know perhaps the timing is a bit too early for someone who shines as brightly as him. 

You rest your head on his shoulder. I love you, you could say out loud, I love you, and the world loves you, for you even more than what you did and what you represent, but it doesn’t help and Izuku cannot help sometimes interpreting your love as pity.

“What do you want for dinner?” you ask instead, keeping your voice as gentle as possible.

He turns to kiss your forehead. “I’m good with anything.”

You hate that no matter what you ask, big or small, he’ll always say this, and decide you’ll order his favorite food instead.

—

Years ago, when Mei contacted you out of the blue while you were ass deep in your medical school finals, asking you if you remembered the last time you’d used your Quirk on Izuku Midoriya, you had immediately assumed she had officially gone insane. It had been greater than five years since you’d last had a normal conversation with her at all, if even that could be considered normal, and you hadn’t had a need to use your Quirk on Izuku since the meta war.

“I know it’s a long shot but I need to know if you still remember-”

“I do,” you answered quickly, then immediately your face warmed at the admission. You can’t help that your Quirk gives you near perfect memory of people by their neuronal diagram, but something about it feels stalkerish when you still think of him affectionately, and not just as someone you’ve once healed. It also doesn’t help what the circumstances were when you’d healed him… but that would be a concern and memory for later.

“How can I help?”

Katsuki rolled his eyes visibly at you when you showed up to Hatsume’s lab the very next day but the animosity between you two has been a running schtick for years and you responded in jest. Using Hatsume’s program to redraw each neuronal connection from memory and adjusting for differences related to age was your greatest contribution to Izuku’s suit, small sums of money to contribute to the class pot whenever you could spare them the other.

There was always a little pang of jealousy that Katsuki could always offer up more money than you could, which once you’d confided to him by late night phone call days before All Might came back to Japan, he’d remind you,

“I’m just trying to beat your boyfriend in a fair fight, don’t make this about you.”

Katsuki’s rash way of speaking has always intuitively comforted you in just this way. It brings a smile to your face, and you offer him a word of thanks, anyway.

“He doesn’t know, does he? I know you like to run your mouth.” 

Katsuki can’t see you roll your eyes. “He’s none the wiser, don’t worry.”

“Good.” 

—

Izuku sends you a daily good morning message, and you’ve rarely beaten him to the punch, but this morning, you offer him a phone call as you make your way to the center of the city to work. All Might is coming back today and will present his suit to him then, the fruit of all your joint labors, and you were practically unable to sleep due to the excitement. Part of you agonized over whether or not you should try to be with him in the moment, but this is a moment to be kept between them, mentor and mentee.

“How are you feeling this morning, Izuku?” you ask, hoping the pants of your speedwalk (late to work as usual), don’t concern him through the phone.

“Weirdly enough, excited. There’s a feeling I can’t quite place, a good one,” he starts, and your grin is ear to ear.

Hours later, you get an excited text and one of the happiest phone calls you’ve ever received, and your heart is full to bursting.

—

“It’s fine, you don’t have to fuss over me,” Izuku insists, and you pout. There’s one stubborn emerald curl that won’t right itself in your opinion, and he’ll be on set for an interview in just a few minutes - the first since returning to active hero work - but he holds your fingers in his hand and pulls them to his lips instead.

“It’s okay. Don’t be nervous on my behalf,” he reminds you as he kisses them. His eyes are kind and relaxing, and you let out a deep breath, biting your lower lip. “I’ve got this, I promise.”

“Fine.”

“I love you,” he reminds you. “Thank you for always being by my side.”

You nod, as his assistant whisks him away, and he steps back into the spotlight, where he’s always belonged.

[pokilicious]

While I understand the appeal of degradation in Dr. Ratio fanfics, consider praise instead. That man throws insults as easily as he breathes, but praise? Legit, genuine compliments? That's rare, that's special. Of course, it could always be a combination of both, but the sheer potential of a Dr. Ratio who is soft when comfortable and far away from all the eyes that follow him wherever he goes is too much to ignore, reminds me of some teachers and professors I had that were tough to pass in class but were completely soft and genuinely nice outside of it, I had this one geography teacher in high school that seemed like one of those teachers who'll fail you for grammar mistakes, but actually was a really cool guy who would grade essays and homework by hand and give feedback privately, or discretely if in front of class, which is something most won't do, and honestly really sweet. I would love to read one of those fanfics where Dr. Ratio is in a relationship without the knowledge of his students or even colleagues, who probably think "who would want that narcissistic guy", and then boom, actually that guy is happily married for almost eight years and is absolutely in love with his S/O and it shows, even if subtly.

I don't normally make posts like this but it's something I've been thinking about for a while lol

[movingmusically]

What Are Friends For? - Chapter 21

Word Count: 1.4k

Masterlist

The flat felt too still when I woke up.

No soft hum of music from Austin’s record player.

No quiet footsteps moving around the kitchen.

No warm weight beside me, shifting, reaching—

Just me.

I rolled over, eyes barely open, reaching for my phone.

Austin: Morning. Made my own coffee today. Not the same.

Austin: What time do you start?

A small smile tugged at my lips.

Me: Morning. 9am, it's a training day today. Teachers are in, kids aren’t. Zara (my work wife) and I will be “working” (talking shit in my classroom) most of the day.

Me: How was your morning?

A few seconds later, my phone buzzed.

Austin: Early workout. Going over scenes. Missing my scene partner, though.

I snorted.

Me: Don’t think Callum would appreciate that feedback.

Austin: Yeah, well. He’s not you.

Something warm curled in my stomach.

Me: I’ll text you later, gotta get up.

Austin: Yeah? Can I request a dramatic reading of your lunch options?

Me: Absolutely not.

Austin: Rude.

Austin: Talk later x.

I sighed, stretching my arms over my head before forcing myself out of bed. One day in, six to go.

The training session was dragging. Useful, maybe. But it was hard to focus when I kept replaying the last ten days in my head. Zara and I escaped early to my classroom, coffees in hand.

“You’ve been weird,” she said, narrowing her eyes.

I lifted a brow. “Excuse me?”

She pointed at me, then waved a hand vaguely. “Like… suspiciously quiet. You barely said anything in the group chat.”

I rolled my eyes. “Maybe I just didn’t have anything to say.”

She gave me a look. “Yeah, right. You always have something to say.”

I hesitated.

Zara’s eyes widened. “No. No way. What happened?”

I pressed my lips together.

Then— “I slept with him.”

Zara nearly dropped her coffee.

“You what?”

I rubbed the back of my neck, suddenly self-conscious. “It—kind of just… happened.”

She stared at me. “Angie.”

I groaned. “Don’t make it a thing.”

“It is a thing!” She smacked my arm. “You barely told me anything about this whole set visit, and now you’re telling me you slept with him?”

I sighed. “Okay, yeah. A lot happened.”

She folded her arms. “Start from the beginning.”

So, I did.

I told her everything—about touring the set, Austin arranging for me to be an extra, the first time we kissed. The pub date and him asking me to stay. The past week. The mornings, the nights, the way everything had shifted without me even realising.

By the time I finished, Zara just stared at me.

“Jesus Christ.”

I huffed a laugh. “Yeah.”

Her head tilted. “And now?”

I swallowed. “Now… I’m here, and he’s there, and we'll see each other Sunday.”

Her expression softened. “And?”

I exhaled. “And I already miss him.”

Zara shook her head, muttering under her breath. “Knew it.”

I frowned. “Knew what?”

She sipped her coffee. “You’re all loved-up, aren’t you?”

I choked. “It’s been ten days, Zara.”

“Yeah, but how long have you actually been into him?”

I frowned. “I don’t know.”

Zara’s look was unimpressed. “Bullshit.”

I sighed, tipping my head back.

Because honestly? I wasn’t sure I had an answer.

After Zara finished dramatically analysing my entire life, I grabbed my lunch and sat at my desk, my phone in hand.

I hesitated for half a second before holding down the mic button.

“Alright, Butler, since you demanded it—today’s lunch selection: pasta bake, jacket potatoes, or a ‘seasonal vegetable risotto,’ which was 90% peas. I went for the pasta. Solid choice. Five stars. You're really missing out. Tragic”

I sent it off and took a bite of my food, shaking my head to myself.

A couple of hours later, my phone buzzed with his reply.

Austin: ‘Tragic’ is right. You get dessert?

Me: Sponge cake with pink custard.

Austin: That’s not real.

Me: It absolutely is.

Austin: I need to see it with my own eyes to believe it.

I huffed a quiet laugh, tapping out a reply.

The week slipped into a new kind of normal after that. We texted through the day. Nothing dramatic. Just small things.

Austin: Barry says hi. And that he misses you. Mostly because you’re the only one who’ll listen to his theories about the moon landing.

Me: Tell him I miss him too. And that I fully support his research.

Austin: Call time got pushed. Wanna FaceTime later?

Me: Yeah. Call me when you’re home. x

It wasn’t the same as being there. But it was something.

One evening I was curled up on my sofa, laptop open, when my phone buzzed. Austin’s name lit up the screen, the familiar FaceTime ringtone cutting through the quiet.

I answered, and Austin’s face filled the screen—hair damp, hoodie on, stretched out on his bed.

I smiled. “Hey.”

He exhaled like he’d been waiting all day for that. “Hey.”

I tucked my legs under me. “Long day?”

He nodded. “Good, though. You?”

I shrugged. “Yeah. You know. Changing lives, shaping young minds, confiscating Rubik’s cubes. The usual.”

Austin smirked. “Sounds heroic.”

“Oh, incredibly.”

A beat of quiet.

Then—

“I miss you.”

The words were easy, slipping out like they belonged.

Austin’s expression softened. “Yeah?”

I swallowed. “Yeah.”

A small pause.

Then he smiled. “Me too.”

And somehow, that made everything feel just a little bit easier.

By the time Friday night rolled around, I was officially done.

The first week back had been fine—busy, sure, but nothing I couldn’t handle. Even so, by the time I made it home, all I wanted was to get into pyjamas, make a cup of tea, and not move for the foreseeable future.

Which was exactly what I did.

Now, curled up on the sofa, laptop open but mostly ignored, I half-watched some mindless TV, letting the voices blur into background noise.

I checked my phone instinctively.

Nothing new from Austin.

Not that I was waiting.

I stretched, rolling my shoulders, reaching for my mug—

Then my phone buzzed.

Austin: Still awake?

I smirked, sinking deeper into the cushions.

Me: Barely. You?

Austin: Yeah. Night shoot.

Austin: Sitting in a freezing hangar, waiting for them to reset the shot. Callum is monologuing about the ‘psychological toll of war’ to a very tired grip.

Me: That poor grip.

Austin: That poor ME.

Me: You love it.

Austin: Lies.

Austin: What are you up to?

Me: Not much. Just crashed on the sofa with tea and some mindless TV.

Austin: Sounds unfairly good.

Me: Unfairly?

Austin: I’ve been standing in the cold for an hour and a half. This is inhumane.

Me: Would it help if I told you what was for lunch today?

Austin: That depends.

Austin: Was there pink custard?

Me: No.

Austin: A travesty. I regret asking.

I grinned, shaking my head.

Me: You’ll be here Sunday. I’ll make sure you’re well-fed.

Austin: Careful. That almost sounds like a promise.

Me: Maybe it is.

There was a pause.

Then—

Austin: What time should I come?

I chewed my lip, considering.

Me: Whenever you’re here is fine. You can come straight to mine if you want.

Austin: You sure?

Me: Obviously.

Austin: Alright. I’ll head over once I’m back in London.

Me: Good.

Austin: Yeah.

Another pause.

Austin: Looking forward to it. x

Me: Me too. x

I let my head sink back into the cushions, eyes slipping shut for a moment. My body had been heavy with the kind of exhaustion that only came after a full week of work—the early mornings, the endless to-do lists, the sheer energy it took to be switched on all the time.

But now? Now, I wasn’t tired at all.

I glanced at the clock without really meaning to.

Two more days.

I hadn’t meant to count. Hadn’t meant to be aware of it at all.

But I was.

I locked my phone, exhaling slowly as I stared at the ceiling.

I stretched out, pulling a blanket over me as the TV murmured in the background, but I wasn’t really paying attention to it anymore.

My phone sat beside me on the sofa, screen dark now, but the weight of his last message lingered.

Looking forward to it. x

It should’ve been simple. Just another Sunday. Just another visit.

But it didn’t feel like that.

Not anymore.

Because seeing him this time wasn’t just seeing a friend.

It was seeing him.

And I already knew—

One day wasn’t going to be enough.

Taglist:

@slowsweetlove @thefallofthedamned @saturnsdaughtr @bellesdreamyprofile @myradiaz @butlerrizz @chocolatetree222 @richardslady121 @ilovereadingfanfics

[loren91]

Would you have any advice on how to find your own style, or just nurturing a habit of drawing things well if that makes sense ?

Oh hello anon! This is a topic I have many opinions about so I might go on a lil rant 😅

I don’t believe it’s good for you to chase after an “art style” in your personal practice. The only time a set art style is necessary, is when you’re working on a project (film, book illustration, game etc) that needs a coherent design.

Because when you get stuck in the mindset that you need a specific style to be an artist, you’ll only restrict your own creativity. It’s much more rewarding to explore different styles and techniques. Have some fun and experiment with your art!

I’ve been practicing art for about 15 years, and personally don’t really think I have a set “art style”, nor do I want it because I know I’ll just end up bored 😅 But then I’m probably biased because I’m an animator, and a part of my job is to adapt to new designs. Maybe you can identify my drawings as mine, similar to how you can recognise someone’s handwriting, it’s just how I draw and it’s not always a specific choice I’ve made.

Now I don’t know how many years of practice you’ve had so far, but it’s worth keeping in mind that your art will change over time as you learn and improve. You’ll find what you’re comfortable with in your own practice. In a way, your “art style” will naturally come to you!

I’m gonna offer some advice that I’ve picked up over the years!

Drawing is a skill, and just like any other skill you need to be persistent and have a lot of patience. Any art teacher will tell you that you need to draw 100 bad drawings until you can make a good one. Sounds daunting I know, but it really is the truth. And when you get to that good drawing it’s so damn satisfying! 🩷

There’s no such thing as talent. There’s only willpower, determination, time and patience. Anyone can learn to draw! You just gotta have the interest to keep at it, even when it’s hard.

Feeling frustrated is perfectly normal and valid, drawing is really hard! I end up rage quitting drawings all the time lol. Then it’s good to go cool down. Take a walk, read a book, have some tea or whatever you enjoy. Come back to the drawing or start a new one when you’re comfortable again. Don’t force it! Anxiety isn’t good for your creativity.

Feedback is the most valuable resource you can find to help you improve! Find someone you trust to be honest and encouraging. Maybe a friend, family member, teacher, or colleague? Or maybe find a good art community, online or irl.

Use reference!! All well respected artists do I promise you! I really like Pinterest for collecting references and inspiration.

If you can, go to life drawing classes where you live. It’s some very good practice!

Be wary of some art tutorials you find online. I keep seeing some awful ones from TikTok and YouTube, and they make me so angry 🙃 If the person can’t even explain how anatomy works or why they draw the way they do, chances are they don’t even know what they’re doing. You want the full context to properly learn! I can make an extensive list of YouTube videos I’ve found helpful if anyone’s interested lol

And again, have fun with it! Draw because you want to, because you enjoy it. Then you’re gonna have the best time 🩷

Best of luck to you! ✨

[kellanved-ammanas]

TF2 Drabbles: Heavy/Medic & Sniper - Just an Observation

Summary: Turns out that circular breathing (vital to playing the didgeridoo) can help to alleviate snoring. At least one merc (probably several), having been reliably informed that they snore, starts pestering Sniper for lessons.

~

Medic hadn’t necessarily said it as a complaint, just an observation. One of a list of reasons why they only shared a bed in a sexual sense and not just in general. His main reasons had been being a doctor/scientist meant sometimes he needed to be up at odd times of night to take care of a patient, do something with an experiment, and/or to handle a medical emergency. Heavy being disturbed from sleep by all that too wouldn’t do anyone any good. The, “Besides, you snore, it would be hard to sleep next to,” had been just an additional reason.

It was all perfectly logical. Heavy had no complaints. He had no desire to possibly be woken by Medic’s sometimes needing to get out of bed at odd hours. So them separating to sleep in their different rooms was perfectly fine with him. What about after this job though? Presumably one day they would, if not retire together, still go somewhere else together. If it was just the two of them, those disturbances would be less likely to pop up frequently enough to be an issue. Heavy’s snoring would remain though. If it was loud enough to be an additional reason they couldn’t sleep side by side then surely it might be enough to be a main reason too.

And so, after only a handful of days after the discussion about possibly moving into the same room, Heavy made his way to Sniper camper van. He paused outside, hand already raised to knock. There was no reason to be nervous. But still, asking for help never felt right. Handling problems directly on his own was preferable. Technically he could teach himself this on his own but the only books he would be able to get on the subject in America were ones written in English. He could muddle though of course, he was more than conversational in the language after all, but it would be much faster and easier to just ask Sniper. No hunting through bookstores for something that would take even more time and effort to read and understand required. Especially since a book couldn’t reliably give him any feedback no matter how easy it was to read. So, not letting the hesitation hold for more than a handful of seconds, he forced himself to knock.

The sound of Sniper’s didgeridoo playing inside stopped. A few seconds later the door opened, revealing the man himself. “Uh… hey, mate.”

“Hello. I have problem. Doctor says I snore. I have heard that…” Heavy paused again. Probably the was a proper phrase or term for it in English that he’d never heard before because it wasn’t exactly the kind of thing that normally came up in their line of work. “…that type of breathing when playing wind instrument can help with snoring.” That should make clear what he was asking for, right? “I was wondering if you could teach me, please.”

Sniper let out a slight chuckle before replying. “Engie was here just the other day with the same request. So uh… I guess I’ll tell you what I told him. I ain’t sure how good a teacher I’d be but I suppose I got nothing much else to do so I’m willing to try. We could do it this weekend, midday Saturday, same day I’m gonna try to teach him.”

“That is acceptable. I will be here. Thank you.”

[navybrat817]

Any chance we'll see tattoo artist Steve soon? 🥺

Here's a bit of Steve's birthday, nonnie.

By Any Other Name

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Steve Rogers x Teacher!Female Reader Summary: You're the only thing Steve wants for his birthday. Word Count: Over 900 Warnings: Implied sex, implied oral sex (f. receiving), future couple, Steve Rogers (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Meet Thorn and Rose, set in the same AU as Hottie and Sugar. ❤️ Thank you to @jobean12-blog for chatting with me about this! Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics and Steve edit by the wonderful Nix. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The first thing you thought when you woke up was that you couldn't believe how well rested you were. The sun was already up, shining bright through the window and curtain. You didn't normally sleep in and had no idea what time it was, but you didn't care as you nestled back into the pillow. It was going to be a good day.

If indicated by the wonderful ache between your thighs.

Your eyes widened when the figure beside you wrapped an arm tight around your waist. For a second, you almost forgot that you weren't alone and weren't in your bed. The large body was so warm and solid, practically a furnace. The beard that tickled your neck made the ache in your core throb with need.

So, I did actually sleep with my tattoo artist. It wasn’t a dream.

"Morning," Steve rasped, his lips lightly brushing against your skin as you held back a whimper.

“Morning,” you whispered back.

Your heart fluttered when he raised his head, his deep blue eyes focusing more as he smiled. His blonde hair was slightly dishevled, but he managed to still look perfect. You probably looked like a monster. It didn’t stop him from pressing a kiss between the center of your eyes.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, his muscular arm pulling you a bit closer.

"I'm okay," you replied after a moment, lightly tracing one of the tattoos on his forearm.

"Just okay?" he asked, concern in his eyes.

You weren't sure how to respond. The gorgeous man who talked you through getting your tattoo was practically a stranger. And you slept with him. To say he rocked your world was an understatement. The man shattered you and you couldn’t believe how he was able to put every piece of you back into place.

“Steve, Steve, Steve!”

“That’s it, sweetheart. Scream my name when I make you come for me. I’ve got you.”

The mere memory, along with his chest against yours, made your nipples hard and made you damp between your legs. You didn’t draw any attention to it though. While he didn’t seem like the type to kick you out of his bed, you had no idea where he wanted to go from here.

“More than okay. I slept really well,” you admitted, backing up just a little. He didn’t need your morning breath in his face.

Steve only pulled you closer. “So did I,” he smiled, cracking his neck a little. “And how’s your wrist feeling?”

“Just fine. Thank you,” you said as he gently took it to check. You still couldn’t believe you ran from the chair when he turned the tattoo gun on. Needles weren’t your thing. He managed to get you through it and you were glad for it.

The rose and single thorn tattoo was beautiful and worth conquering that fear.

“I’m glad you went through with it. And I’m not afraid to tie you down if you try to run from me again,” he winked, making your cheeks hot. “I have to say, this is the best way to wake up on my birthday.”

“Wait, it’s your birthday?” you smiled when he gave you a sheepish look. “Happy birthday, Steve. I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything.”

To be fair, you didn’t know and you hadn’t expected to go home with him last night.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he said, slowly tugging the sheet away. “But do you want to give me something?”

Instead of trying to cover yourself up, you let him fully see you in the sunlight. The way his eyes darkened, he liked what he saw. “What did you have in mind?” you asked, your voice huskier than before.

“Well, Bucky and the guys are having a small thing for me tonight,” he said, lightly running his fingers along your torso. “Would you, maybe, want to go?”

Not what I thought he’d have in mind, but that kind of sounds like a date.

“Sure,” you smiled, happy that he wanted to see you again. “I’d love to go.”

Watching his face light up was almost like you gave him a real gift. “Is it selfish to ask for one more thing?” he asked, bracing himself over you before he leaned down to capture your mouth.

Any self-conciousness about your breath and anything else disappeared as desire took over. His cock was hard, trapped between your bodies as he lightly grinded against you. “That all depends on what you ask for,” you teased as he moved his kisses down your neck.

“Scream my name again. Do it while my tongue’s deep inside you,” he said as you bit your lip. It sounded more like a command and one you knew you wouldn’t be able to resist. “And do it again when I give you my cock.”

“Steve,” you whimpered, slipping your fingers into his hair.

“Louder than that, Rose,” he said, nipping your collarbone and making you giggle at the reference of your tattoo. “And since it’s my birthday, I get to eat as much as I want.”

“You really are going to be a thorn in my side, aren’t you?” you asked affectionately.

“I prefer to be the ache between your gorgeous thighs,” he smirked. “So open up and let me eat.”

Your legs spread without another word. You’d let him have his fill. It was his birthday, after all. And it would’ve been wrong to deny him.

Steve deserves it, right? Love and thanks! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Steve Rogers Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[annafall]

now that its been 2 years, i think i have enough distance to that asshole from back then who fucked me up so much that i can talk about it properly

putting it under a read more, dont expect anyone to actually read it, just need to get it out

cw abusive relationships, fictional sa, fictional torture, grooming, self-harm mentions, suicidality mentions, hospital mentions

so back in 2022 i met someone online, a dutch girl on a rwby rp discord. she was 28 and i was 27 and we hit it off insanely well

too well, in fact

right from the get go she was absurdly flirty and of course, as a trans girl who just started hrt and had absolutely no self esteem, that worked well

we talked a lot and 99% of the time it was some sort of sex topic, turned into sexting really quick. if we talked about the things she wanted to talk about, it got instant feedback . i think the first i love you came 3 weeks in and it became a flood of compliments and professions of love and the like. talking about other things got little to no response and if i said something she didnt like, she straight up ignored me for the rest of the day, went offline and didnt answer anymore

eventually we talked about an rp scenario, this was still sfw, but already pretty messed up. she wanted to rp a torture thing. not the actual torture itself, just my character being out of it the next day and realizing slowly what had happened. like, how her vision was gone on one eye, or how she couldnt stand up anymore because "there was nothing go stand on". how weird the meat tasted that she got fed

this was between cinder and penny from rwby, but inversions of the two. my character was a version of cinder who got adopted by hazel before the madam showed up, who always meant so much to me because of how much i relate to her. she was wishful thinking, a what if for an abused girl who finally got help

penny was laughably evil, she was salems newest maiden, sadistic as fuck, had all sorts of implements installed into her, like syringes and needles built into her fingers to do whatever the fuck those would do, grimm parts that replaces mechanical ones, like a grimm part for a reactor

and at first, it was kinda fun honestly, fucked up but in a twisted self-harm-y way.

then she talked me into roleplaying a full on torture scene and i was reluctant, but eventually relented because getting silent treatment again was worse at the time. so we just ... roleplayed a torture scene. something about forceful cannibalism, i dont remember the details

at that point i had abandoned all my boundaries in favor of not being ignored again, because then i would be treated nicely, being told i matter, that she wants me, loves me.

and then it was a full on torture SA scene

it was probably the most extreme thing ive ever experienced in this sense, as a fictional thing, and i have seen some shit

like, full on destruction of the body type shit, vile and sadistic

it took me roughly a year, i think, until i could just see regular images of penny without panicking

penny with grimm-parts is to this day a massive trigger, as are depictions of absurdly long tongues because that somehow featured into this torture scene

i was in a bad way then, because the character i had player was someone i projected onto, identified with, and she had been abused to a degree that a normal human in the real world could never survive

i had let her assault my reader-insert, if you will

i was starting to crack, full on suicidal at times from everything, unable to keep it going any more, and then, because i couldn't "perform" like that anymore, it seemed over

a friend irl noticed and we talked about stuff, and eventually she suggested, i should look further into the info i had of her

the image? straight off of instagram (but believable, she said she was a teacher and the girl she sent me looked the type)

her being a dutch teacher at a dutch middle school? pulled into question when she couldnt explain extremely simple stuff about the language

so many things that just turned out to be extremely flaky or no longer trustworthy

when i confronted "her" about it, she dumped me, tried to guilt trip me about the catfishing

i was gonna let it go, until a mutual friend messaged me, flora, and through pure coincidence, it turned out that flora had received explicit images from that asshole too

flora was, like me, dealing with aith mental health problems

flora was 17 at the time

and when another kid like that stepped forward, i knew what this person was

i had fallen into the hands

a full on predator, looking for mentally ill people online to fuck them over

we ended up reporting her to discord for solicitation of minors and she got banned from a dozen rp discords after, but i dont know if she ever got banned

and to this day, everytime someone joins the simps server, i still check to see if its her, because the owner assured me he would ban her instantly the moment she stepped foot into the server

she was my first "relationship" (im putting it in air quotes, because really the first real relationship I've had that was built on mutual adoration, respect and love was with Robyn), and it ruined me

we briefly considered putting me in a hospital just in case, because my mental health had deteriorated so much

i know, rationally, that shes never going to come back, but im still terrified of her